#FIRST YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL I'M PRETTY SURE

[shanastoryteller]

Hi, long time reader. Thank you for your incredible brain and bringing your writing into the outside world. You might have answered it before but I don’t remember ever seeing it. How many times do you read/watch/refer to your source material? Like, do you decide to rewatch a series once every couple of years or do you watch it once, get inspired and then mostly focus on your own interpretation

hi! thank you! :)

answering publicly because it got kinda long and i thought other people might be interested

it depends! usually on how closely a fic is in conversation with the source material and if i've consumed it recently. like for my dead boy detective fic, i'd just watched it, i didn't need to review anything, and i'm often inspired to write after reading/watching

i haven't read harry potter since maybe high school, possibly middle school. i was 13 when deathly hallows came out and i remember being so underwhelmed by it, especially since i hadn't really liked half blood prince either, and i don't think really reread it after. for siat i just use sparknotes or google something something if i can't remember because for a long time it was in pretty close conversation with canon. i'd literally read the sparknotes for a couple chapters, think about how i wanted that to go in my fic, and update the outline. my other hp fic i'd just google something if i couldn't remember

while writing lynchpin, which was very in conversation with canon, i'd literally watch an episode, or to a certain point in the episode, then go and write until that point. i had stuff and arcs in mind, but that's how i kept pace and made sure i didn't miss anything on accident. however, i haven't watched untamed since completing lynchpin, which was my first untamed fic, but nothing else has been so closely in conversation with canon

i didn't consume any canon prior to writing my avengers fic because what good would it do me lol. speak of her is directly after infinity war pt 2 which i've never seen. i just knew that tony died and i thought it was bullshit

at the rind was while i was in the middle of a house rewatch, but anything after season 4/5 i probably googled because that's when i thought the show started to decline

pour herbel oil was definitely in pretty close conversation with the canon. i did with nirvana in fire kind of what i did with untamed, watching any scene with yujin and figuring out how i wanted to slide it a little to the left

supernatural is probably one where i'm most frequently checking the source material directly. this is partially because i first watched it a looooong time ago (like watched real time through most of season 4, although i really hated what they were doing with dean, then fully fell off when season 5 started because i hated the direction it was going so much) and because the boys and their relationship have gone through so many arcs and cycles that i want to make sure i'm hitting them both correctly for the time period they're in. see something say something i'd rewatch the episodes with cases i was including, but not much else, but that fic is probably in the least conversation with canon. back was a direct result of me rewatching when the levee breaks and hating it. no safe investments was just me being like, i think dean should have crashed out waaaay more about sam dying the first time. once i decided to expand the great puzzle i rewatched season 5 so i'd know what i'm working with and it was a SLOG at times, especially early season 5, because the way sam is treated just fills me with rage. but it's like, if i'm going to have the boys dig themselves out of this hole of bullshit, i need to know how deep it goes

so the broad answer is usually not at all, except with specific fics that are in such close conversation with canon that i have to make sure i'm hitting the timeline/references right. i have a pretty good memory so unless we're getting that specific, i don't feel the need to review source material that i haven't in a while

[kxsagi]

a little rant then a smol request in the end bcs i wanna let it out and i have no one to talk about it with and this is kinda my safe place (and ik you can make me better with your great writing 😚😚)

~

so, i had this classmate that also liked blue lock and this classmate of mine liked nagi sm. he also acted like nagi (as in like both gamers, lazy but genius and vv tall and shi)

had confessed to him exactly 2 years and 5 months ago and got rejected because he wanted to focus on himself for now and i respected that because I totally understand when things get rough in life you want to distance yourself with others

and everytime i move on from him i keep coming back. the first time was after i got rejected, moved on and it came back just right before our Christmas break because he said to me "Merry Christmas and enjoy your break" (i know I'm a simp) and the second one was after our high school graduation and it only came back when i saw him after summer because we attend the same university (and in the same class too)

it's literally so hard to move on from him, like one of his friends had a crush on me that i had spoken to but cut him off (he was a red flag, and luckily i avoided it) because i was still crushing on this guy 😭

and months later (literally just this april) i noticed he keeps talking to all of our classmates, even my own group friends but when I'm in the picture he starts to avoid me and ignore me as if I wasn't even there?

so here i am, moving on and trying to get the closure i want but can't because he keeps running away from me and i guess that's a good thing (??)

so the request was to make a better ending than my life because oml i can't with this (yes it's a nagi x reader so i can just associate him with Nagi since they're the same) during their student night (prom) where Nagi realizes he just kept running away because he didn't want to fall in love but he knew he'd be better off with reader and confessed that night and they become lovers (yay)

(ps. sorry for the long message and sudden lovestory lore drop, i couldn't talk abt this to my friends because i know if i did, they'll just question my feelings because they know it's nigh impossible for me to move on and let on my efforts go to waste ����😔)

– 🪻

“𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫”

a/n: hey pretty! honestly, your feelings are totally okay, normal, and valid. us as girls tend to have crushes on people for a long time, and if he’s still single, then that’s okay! it’s nothing to be embarrassed about it and if he’s a green flag, if you think he’s good for you as a partner, i PRAY that you two get together someday! 

him avoiding you isn’t a bad thing, don’t overthink about it + i’m always here if you wanna talk about anything as well :)

side note: where i’m from, we have high school prom in hotel ballrooms. i’m not sure if it’s like that for other schools

side note #2: i chose i was all over her by salvia path as the title because i think the song is fitting for this scenario. nagi’s known to be lonely and he definitely finds comfort in others’ presence

the music is loud, the lights are spinning, and the ballroom smells like too much cologne and cheap perfume. your heels are already starting to hurt, your mascara’s a little smudged, and your best friend ditched you for their date ten minutes ago. 

and then there's nagi. 

leaning against the back wall like he always does. hands in his pockets. slouched posture. tie half undone. phone in hand like he’d rather be anywhere else. you catch his eye across the room and flash him a look that says really? you promised you'd try tonight. 

he shrugs. lazy as ever. but his gaze lingers longer than usual, like maybe there’s something on his mind. something heavy. 

“this is kinda lame,” he says when you walk over to him, voice low and bored like always. 

“you’re the one who didn’t wanna go in the first place,” you tease, nudging his arm. “but you still came.” 

“’cause you asked.” 

your breath catches a little. he says it so simply. like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

nagi seishiro doesn’t do effort. he doesn’t move unless it’s convenient. he doesn’t stay unless it’s worth it. but he’s here. in a suit he didn’t wanna wear. at a dance he didn’t care about. standing next to you like it’s the only place that makes sense. 

“did you eat?” you ask, trying to change the subject before your heart betrays you and starts beating out of your chest. 

he shakes his head. 

you pull him toward the snack table. he doesn’t complain. he lets you drag him through the crowd, fingers brushing together until he just... holds your hand. casually. no warning. 

your brain short circuits. 

he pops a cookie in his mouth like nothing happened. 

you try not to explode. 

“you’re acting weird,” you mumble. 

“am i?” he says, chewing. 

you look at him. really look. something’s different tonight. not in his appearance, he still looks effortlessly good, like some model who wandered into a school dance, but in his eyes. they’re softer. warmer. watching you like you’re something rare and precious. 

“i’ve been thinking,” he says, voice quiet. 

that alone is shocking. nagi? thinking? willingly? unheard of. 

“about what?” 

he glances at the ceiling like the words are stuck there. “about you.” 

oh. 

your stomach flips. 

“i always thought love sounded like a pain,” he continues. “too much work. too many feelings. not worth the effort.” 

you nod slowly. “and now?” 

he meets your gaze. “and now i think i’ve been running away. ‘cause maybe i didn’t wanna fall.” 

you don’t say anything. you can’t. the music fades into the background. it’s just the two of you. the lazy genius who always kept things at arm’s length, now looking at you like he’s finally ready to let go of his fears. 

“but then there’s you,” he murmurs. “you make everything easy. even when it’s hard. and i don’t wanna keep running.” 

your breath hitches. 

“so... can we be something? like, for real?” he says, cheeks slightly red. “you and me?” 

you blink. once. twice. and then you smile so big it hurts. 

“took you long enough.” 

he lets out a soft chuckle. it’s rare. boyish. genuine. 

you pull him onto the dance floor, ignoring his halfhearted grumbles. he puts his arms around your waist, lets you sway with him, lets the world blur. 

and in that moment, nagi seishiro realizes love isn’t something to avoid. 

not when it feels like this. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[greenerteacups]

Hi GT! I loved being reminded of that iconic Hermione quote from Book 6 (she only dates REALLY GOOD quidditch players), and the fact that you brought up how the Draco in canon would obviously find this interaction hilarious.

My question is, do you think, emotionally and psychologically, there is any chance that the book canon Draco could have ever had a crush on Hermione? Not whether there were any signs of it, but just whether you think it would have been possible with who he was and the way he was raised and socialized?

And then, double question, do you think LH Draco would still have developed feelings for Hermione even if he hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor and/or joined the trio's friend group?

Hey, friend! I liked this question so much I went absolutely bonkers and wrote an essay about it. Then I wrote another one about the second question, which made me even more bonkers. I'm sticking my little novel here under a readmore so it doesn't fuck up people's dashboards.

I like this question a lot, I see a lot of debate about it in fandom circles. I think canon Draco is incredibly emotionally immature, even compared to the Golden Trio, up until Book 6. Which is a fully realistic portrayal for a fifteen-year-old kid: he hasn't had to face giant monsters or ex-dictators trying to kill him, why would he be anything but a normal rich fifteen-year-old bully? That is, annoying, self-obsessed, and generally predisposed to believe whatever his parents tell him about the world?

In OOTP, though, his threats take on a tinge of menace. He starts off normally, just gloating about his prefect badge and making fun of Hermione raising her hand, but by the end of the book, he's called her "mudblood" multiple times in public, he's cracking jokes about the Longbottoms being in St. Mungo's, and by the beginning of HBP he's applauding the idea of violence being done to her ("Who blacked your eye, Granger? I want to send them flowers.") This maps to the slow darkening of tone over OOTP and HBP especially — schoolyard taunts are morphing into slurs and allusions to violence, which, yes, good, exactly. Notably, most of this bullying happens before Draco has any reason to be stressed or worried about his own future, so it's not like he's just lashing out from fear (not that it would be excusable if he was, anyway).

Is it possible to talk that way about someone you have a crush on? Maybe, I dunno. You'd have to grant that somewhere between Book 3 and Book 6, Draco is exercising a lot of repression and self-denial, which, personally, I don't read that in the text. I do believe they have compatible personalities, mostly because I think they're both really catty and manipulative, and they both love a Scheme. (That shit where Draco fakes out Ron and Harry with the duel in Philosopher's Stone? Hermionecore. She would've loved it. She would have been pissed the fuck off at him, but she would've respected the game.) That crack about Draco loving Hermione's #fuckron era in HBP was earnest, because I think their canon selves actually would enjoy each other's bitchiness, but their completely opposing political ideologies would be an immovable roadblock to any friendship with each other. Specifically, I think it would be an obstacle for Hermione, who has good reasons for believing his ideas to be dangerous. Draco seems like he's thoughtlessly parroting his parents' views, which is why I believe you could see a shift in his ideology during or after the war, when his parents very obviously fuck up their lives real bad. That's why I think postwar AUs tend to win out over canon/eighth year AUs on veracity. Not to say they're better! It's just that the time gap gives the author more flexibility in terms of characterization.

I think the more compelling argument against Book Draco having a crush on Book Hermione is that they don't know each other well enough to like each other. I do, however, really like AUs that take that premise and spin it — basically do a "behind the scenes" canon-compliant story where there's a whole arc happening that Wasn't Relevant to Harry's Journey. Because, like, Harry took a whole year to figure out one of his best friends was time traveling on a daily fucking basis. Like, yeah! Sure! She could have been hooking up with someone behind his back. The plot of War and Peace could have been happening in that fucking castle and Harry wouldn't know shit about it. (God, I love him. Perfect protagonist, no notes.)

That tees up the answer to the second question, which is: would Lionheart Draco still develop feelings for Hermione if he weren't in Gryffindor? And I think the answer has to be probably not! If he were in Slytherin, while he would obviously be a different person from canon without Lucius to guide him, he would be socialized in a way very similar to how Theo and Pansy are socialized from Book 1-3. He might be more reserved and less antagonistic, but I'm not sure when he would ever spend enough time with Hermione to develop a friendship with her, let alone a relationship. Part of the reason he fixates on Hermione in the first place is because he's the only person in Gryffindor he feels remotely close to/equal with; her intellect allows him to pretend that she's just a "different" muggle-born, or somehow special in a way that makes her a suitable companion for him. (Also, the fact that she's an annoying know-it-all and has no friends means that she, too, is a bit of an outsider in the first year, and that bonds them.) By the time they're old enough for her to give him the rightful shit he deserves about those beliefs, they already have a strong foundation of friendship, which they can both rely on to weather the conflict his ideology causes. If you take away that basis of friendship, and stage their meeting/befriending even a few years later, I think his ideology becomes too entrenched for him to entertain the idea of a friendship with her. And if he's around Slytherins, he'd be surrounded by people willing and eager to accommodate him just because of his name — he'd never be isolated in the way he is in Gryffindor, and hence would never have to self-examine his own behaviors in order to build friendships.

The other counterexamples are (a) if Draco is sorted into neither Gryffindor nor Slytherin. This depends on how you read the culture of the Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff houses; I'm going to go ahead and say I don't see a Hufflepuff!Draco happening, like, in any recognizable universe. Not because Hufflepuff isn't a great house, but Draco (at eleven, mind!!) just has none of the requisite qualities for it. He's not patient, he's not loyal, he doesn't give a hot shit about fair play; he is, arguably, hard-working, but there are hard-working people in every house, and we don't meet anyone in Hufflepuff that's remotely like Draco in temperament or values. The closest parallel is Ernie Macmillan, but Ernie just cares about shit a lot more than Draco does. Ravenclaw is an option, but we don't know a lot of the people in Ravenclaw, so a lot would depend on how able Draco is to find friends that share pureblood ideology, and how much he's forced to change in his early years. It also depends on if, in that universe, Hermione is sorted into the same House he is. But at this point, we're making big changes at such an early point in the canon that things could potentially go anywhere.

[saltedsolenoid]

kin assign me a together in hell character please i am looking at you blinking rapidly please pleaase please

(elaboration in tags)

[quitedisastrous]

my mom told me i almost got diagnosed with autism as a kid (she says i wasn't officially diagnosed because the diagnosis wouldn't have been useful so i guess my symptoms were so on the fence that they didn't push for it) which. like i'm 100% sure i have autism but holy mackerel. she couldn't have told me this as a kid???? it's a good thing i'm both logical and oblivious so i didn't spend too much time thinking "something is wrong with me. what the fuck is wrong with me" but like. what the fuck?

[bucketbueckers]

SUPERSTAR

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

content: party!p being drunk and clingy and a maybe a little annoying, fluff without plot, the fuck ass net, language, the authors love language is physical touch and you can really tell

wc: 3.0k

synopsis: Paige Bueckers is a lightweight. Knowing that, you really shouldn’t have been all too surprised by the post-win afterparty.

notes: obligatory post natty fic?? i say yes! cooking one up for azzi too, idk when it will get posted but expect it soon. i dont care how much homework i have to procrastinate. side note, watching them play live was such a surreal experience, i'm still thinking about it and there are so many emotions that i can't put into words. they deserved this win so bad and i love my team so much 😩 i also wrote the second half of this while watching the men’s natty and all i have to say is im a misandrist and go huskies! as always i hope y'all enjoy 🫶

You liked to think that you were an expert in a few niche categories.

The first is basketball. You grew up listening to the reverb of the bounce echoing in the gym. You learned how to dribble before you learned how to multiply. More often than not, you could usually tell when a shot was going into the net as soon as it left your hands. This is all to say you were pretty decent at basketball, although you’re sure that dropping a modest fourteen points in the national championship match and taking home the trophy makes you a little more than decent at ball.

Basketball aside, you weren’t lacking in the skills department. KK jokes that you and Carol share the title as the moms of the group since you’re so good at conflict resolution – although you prefer the term “trying to keep everyone alive.” More often than not, you’ll find Morgan standing at your door with a bag of groceries in hand, a wide smile on her lips in hopes that you’ll cook her dinner because, according to her, you just make the best carbonara she’s ever had. You’ve never been good at saying no to Morgan – she was yours and Aubrey’s shared freshman and after her surgery, you’ve made a point of spending as much time with her as possible because you can tell she’s not having an easy time with watching everyone play while she’s on the sidelines.

The one thing that you’re certain you’re an expert in is Paige Bueckers. You know her inside and out and on and off the court. The two of you started as rivals in high school, although your friendship truly blossomed during AAU competitions and Team USA where you had to play together. The distance and the competition kept the both of you from being anything more than friends, but when the both of you committed to UConn without the other knowing, Paige asked you out after the first summer practice and you were sure that you were a goner when she ran into a pole trying to spin a ball on her finger in an attempt to impress you. You grew up together, saw the best and the worst parts that came with dating an athlete, and stuck it through until the end – you even used your COVID eligibility to stay one extra year with her. Whether the universe wanted it or not, the two of you were going to win a natty together, damn it; and win it you did.

Which leads you to where you are now. You’re an expert in Paige Bueckers. There’s not a single thing you don’t know about her, just like there’s not a single thing she doesn’t know about you. That’s why you knew you were doomed when, during the group picture, she exclaimed “We get a parade! And we get to get drunk!” The thing about Paige is that she’s a D1 clinger when she’s plastered. She’s loud and annoyingly charming and honestly, you’re so in love with her that you’re not bothered by it. You’d hold her hair back while she vomited for the rest of your life as long as it meant the two of you were together for it. You just knew she’d be inconsolable and grumpy in the morning when she’s hungover, but after five years of blood, sweat, tears, surgery, rehab, and hardwork, your girlfriend has just won a national championship, so if she wants to get a little plastered and sing at the top of her lungs, then you have no real reason to do anything but ensure she gets back to your room safely.

A few minutes after the conclusion of the net cutting ceremony, you’re taking a few more photos with the trophy in your hands, your hat tucked neatly over your head when Paige comes over. The photographer leaves you two be as Paige reaches for the brim of your hat, turning it backwards to match hers. She’s got that soft, mischievous, slightly wide-eyed look on her face as she looks at you and you can’t help but melt at it. You can tell from her expression that it hasn’t fully set in that she’s won a natty, but you know it’ll hit her later.

“You want something or are you just here to annoy me?” you ask teasingly, handing the trophy off to Ice, who’s taking selfies. You reach out to adjust the net around Paige’s neck as she responds.

“What, I can’t come say hi to my girl?” she goads, the look on her face far too pleased. One of the other things you knew about Paige Bueckers after so many years together was that she loves attention. Specifically, from you, and you can tell that she loves how easily you handed off the trophy to focus fully on her.

“Hello,” you deadpan, which just makes her smirk.

“I ever tell you how proud I am of you?” she asks, shocking you slightly, and heat rises to your cheeks as you try to process the sudden praise.

You blink, rolling your eyes slightly, but the fond smile on your face gives you away. Your girlfriend curls her arm over your shoulders as she leads you through the crowd towards the tunnel. “C’mon, P. I should be saying that to you.”

“Nah,” she disagrees. “You brought us back in the second quarter with those threes.”

You shrug a shoulder, feigning nonchalance. “I did see Coach Staley crashing out when I was getting back on defense.” That makes Paige laugh a little, pulling you flush into her. “I’m serious, though. I’m proud of you, you know?” The two of you slow to a stop once you’re safely away from the cameras and the onlookers, so you turn towards her, resting your hands on her chest and threading your fingers through the net around her neck. “You just…you don’t know how special you are. As a person, a player, a teammate. You’ve been the heart and soul of this team, Paige. You’re here now. And you did it.” You give a teasing tug to the net, watching the affectionate smile spread across her lips, the tears pooling at her waterline again. “You deserve every bit of this.”

“We can be proud of each other,” she suggests. “But I’m definitely prouder than you.”

“You’re full of shit,” you say fondly, patting her cheek. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I really am,” she agrees, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your lips, one that makes you smile, and one that lasts not nearly long enough because KK walks by and gags dramatically. You raise a middle finger to her as she cackles. Paige laughs against you, too, wrapping her arms around your waist and sinking into your embrace instead. You rub her back, feeling her relax against you, and you kiss her head over the hat.

“I don’t suppose this means you’re gonna behave tonight?” you ask jokingly, already knowing that Party P will be in full effect.

She scoffs like you’ve just said something egregious. “I’m always on my best behavior,” she declares, and all you can truly do is smile and roll your eyes. You know.

The moment Paige finds the ping-pong table, you know it’s wraps.

She’s only a few shots in, but Paige Bueckers is a lightweight. You learned that much when you were both freshmen and you convinced one of the upperclassmen on the team to buy you drinks at Ted’s. Paige was laid out in the bathroom by 10pm and the two of you went home early. You spent the better part of the morning after tending to her hangover, but you’d told her to slow down, so everytime she whined that her head hurt you simply said, “I told you so” (although you felt bad enough for her that you rubbed her back for a few hours until the ache subsided).

Paige is playing one on one with Sarah – mind you, she’s still wearing that fuck ass net, but it’s a little endearing by this point. It reminds you of a little kid who can’t go anywhere without their emotional support blanket. Somehow, you’ve been roped in to being the referee, and as much as you tried to argue that ping-pong didn’t really need a referee, Paige was already inching into that clingy state of being drunk, so she’d just pulled you along and planted a wet, obnoxious kiss to your cheek as she steadied her paddle, unmistakable confidence in her expression.

At first, it’s tame. You watch the ball bounce back and forth between the two of them, still nursing a drink of your own. You alternate between saying Point, Sarah, or Point, Paige. Sarah, in typical Sarah fashion, hardly reacts, although Paige is either crashing out or celebrating every point like it’s another natty win. You weren’t too sure where she got the whole “nonchalant final boss” thing from, but it definitely was not true.

A few rounds later, a small crowd has formed, and she takes a breather to sidle up next to you. She wraps an arm around your waist and leans into you, taking a sip from your drink (much to your amusement), her expression is unbearably blissed out. Paige has a soft look on her face, her eyes a little hooded, but beyond the clear drunkenness, you can see a whole lot of love reflected in her eyes, an appreciation for tonight’s win. “You having fun, baby?” you ask her, a grin on your face.

She hums, tightening her grip, uncaring of the way Ice and KK are laughing at her. Paige pulls back suddenly, concern and slight guilt on her face. “Are you?” she echoes, like it would physically pain her if you weren’t enjoying your night. Knowing her, it probably would.

You laugh a little, rubbing your hand down her back, adjusting the cap on her head because it’s about to fall off from all of the bouncing around she’s done. “I am, don’t worry,” you say honestly.

“Good,” she murmurs, kissing you soundly. Without another word, she extracts herself from your grip and gears up for the next few rounds of ping pong with Sarah. She catches your eye and winks. “This one’s for you, baby,” she promises.

The serve immediately sails out of bounds. You try not to laugh too hard when you say, “Point, Sarah.”

“Shit,” Paige states.

“I think you’re supposed to keep the ball in bounds,” Sarah says helpfully.

“I got distracted,” Paige argues. “Didn’t count. 0-0.”

“It’s 1-0 for Sarah,” you call out, taking your job very seriously. You ignore the pout Paige sends your way, as if a pretty face would make you give up your refereeing integrity. It won’t.

Paige and Sarah take turns hitting the ping pong ball. You stay focused, although Paige’s expression endlessly amuses you. Her brows are furrowed, concentrated as she follows the ball, her movements strangely coordinated and precise for someone who’s a few shots in. Then, Ice announces she’s on live, which distracts Sarah, and Paige scores an easy point on her. Immediately, she launches into a celebration, chanting something that sounds like “Little Rah.” You and Sarah exchange a glance. A smile spreads across your face as you announce, “Foul on Paige. Unsportsmanlike conduct. Point, Sarah.”

Paige spins on her heel immediately. “Bruh, what?” she exclaims. “How was that unsportsmanlike? Since when does ping pong even have foul calls?”

“Careful, Lil Paigey,” Sarah says somberly, although her lips twitch like she’s trying to hold back a smile. “Arguing with the ref can get you a tech. Just ask DT.”

“Bruh,” Paige says again, looking at you pleadingly, like you can take away the egregious foul call you just made on your girlfriend. “Babe, come on. You know this is bull–” you raise a brow at her and she falters, “–crap. Bullcrap.”

You grin when you say, “2-0, Sarah.”

Paige stares at you like you’ve just betrayed her. You can tell she’s not actually upset, but she’s competitive more than anything. She takes a deep breath and reaches for her paddle again.

For the rest of your round, you do your best to throw Paige off her game, ranging from rolling up your sleeve as you pretend to inspect your conveniently flexed bicep or making increasingly more bullshit calls. You award Sarah a point for having a double double in the natty and subtract one point from Paige’s total because she had one turnover (you ignore her when she points out that Sarah had two turnovers, like that’s any of your business).

Finally, you call it at 15-9 in Sarah’s favor because you can tell the drinks are catching up to Paige. It’s already well past midnight and your flight back to Storrs tomorrow morning is early and you know Paige is going to have a rough morning. She pouts when you tell her that you’re taking her back to the room, but she knows it’s for the best so she makes her rounds, hugging everyone in the room and refuses to part with the net when KK reaches for it. Paige tangles your fingers together, not letting a single inch of space separate the two of you as she rambles on about how you and Sarah were most definitely cheating (you were).

When you make it back to the hotel room, you guide Paige into the bathroom, squeezing toothpaste onto her brush and pulling her hair tie out while she cleans her teeth. “I’mma be so sick tomorrow,” she complains, spitting, and scrubbing again as you reach for your toothbrush.

“That’s why you’re gonna take some medicine before you sleep,” you tell her. “And in the morning. And I’ll get you some coffee.”

“You’re the best,” she whispers, rinsing her mouth out. She stands behind you and wraps her arms around your waist, burying her head in your neck. Her breath tickles your skin as she tries to melt into you. She behaves like she’d die if she wasn’t under your skin, but you love your clingy girl just the same. “I’on know what I’d do without you. Like, for real. I wouldn’t be here without you, y’know that?”

“You’d still be here. Just a little less house trained, I think,” you promise her. Paige laughs against your skin, amused, as if she knew that’s what you would say. “But I’m glad you didn’t have to do it alone.” That makes her soften, her hands trailing under your shirt to brush against your skin. “You never have to do it alone as long as I’m here.”

“I know,” she says, kissing your neck tenderly. She squeezes you around your waist, then releases you, her gaze a little sleepy and hazy.

You offer her a grin, reaching for her hand. “Let’s get you to bed, superstar.” She nods and trails behind you. You flick on the lamp as she gets settled into bed. Paige tugs meaningfully at the net around her neck and you laugh, shaking her head. “You’ll choke and die in your sleep,” you deadpan. “I’d really like it if my girlfriend made it through the night.”

Paige juts out her bottom lip, grumbling under her breath as you pull the net off, draping it over the desk chair. You take the hat from her and set it on the nightstand, brushing your fingers through her hair as her eyes slip shut in relaxation. Before she can get too comfortable, you pass her a water bottle and the tylenol, which she takes without complaint.

Once she’s finally settled, you crawl into bed next to her. She wastes no time before wrapping you up, drawing you into her body and tucking her face into the crook of your neck and breathing soundly. You’d thought it would take some time before Paige would realize that she just won a natty, but now, it’s sinking in for you. You’re a national champion. So is your girlfriend. You’ve accomplished the very goal that you came back to UConn to seek out. You’re overcome with this heavy feeling of peace, gratitude, an overwhelming amount of love and admiration for the woman who put the team on her back when she needed to, who took a step back to let her team do their thing when needed to. Most of all, you’re overcome with a feeling of belonging, the feeling that you’re right where you’re supposed to be, wrapped in Paige’s arms like you’re more important to her than the trophy.

You think she’s fallen asleep until she murmurs, still slightly in awe, “We did it.” Her hand tightens around the fabric of your shirt, her voice exhausted and dripping with something that sounds like accomplishment.

Your fingers brush her knuckles, a smile of your own spreading across your face as you agree, “We did.”

You can feel the smile she presses against your skin, the subsequent kiss that follows. “I love you,” she murmurs. “Thank you for doing this with me.”

You don’t think you could be anywhere else. You lift her hand to your lips, kissing her knuckles, and she squeezes you one more time as you whisper, “I love you, too.”

When the two of you wake up that morning, you have her coffee ready and you make sure she takes her medicine to keep the headache away. And when she looks at you hopefully, holding up the net and the hat, you really don’t have it in you to protest.

You place the net around her neck again and you tuck the wisps of her hair under her hat, pressing your lips to hers, and she hugs you tightly with an emotion that feels a hell of a lot like relief. You know she’s relieved for a lot of reasons, but the top reason stems from a deep thankfulness that the both of you were able to win the national championship together, just as you’d spent years dreaming about.

Paige grins at you again, her expression adoring, and you know that what the two of you have is worth a whole lot more than the trophy you’ll be transporting to Storrs.

[alexiroflife]

"first day"

fluff, happy fushiguro family, slice of life, megs' first day of school send-off

Synopsis: you've been dating toji for a while now and megumi subconsciously calls you mom for the first time on his way out the door

to sum it up: you adore the little family you've come to be a part of

WC: 1,701

Warning(s): none

"Megs!" you call out, standing by the front door awaiting the dark-haired boy's arrival. He soon shuffles around the corner from his room, throwing a bag over his shoulder with a tired expression on his face.

His father turns to watch him walk in, crossing his arms as he leans against the counter. "The hell were you doing in there that took you so long?"

"Nothing," Megumi grumbles, moving to brush past the two of you to rush to the door. "I just wanted to look presentable, that's all."

"So you took thirty minutes to get ready?" Toji quirks a brow.

"Believe it or not, dad, some would say that's not enough time to get ready in the morning."

"Not at all, actually," you agree.

Toji tugs the corner of his mouth in judgment. " Well, you should know," he says to you. "You spend at least ten years in the bathroom when we have somewhere to go."

You scoff, rolling your eyes. "That's such an overreaction. I never take any longer than an hour." Megumi and his father exchange knowing looks and you place your hand on your hip. "What?"

"Don't worry baby," Toji assures you. "It's okay to be in denial."

"We've timed it before. The last time we all went out to dinner as a family, you took two and a half hours to get dressed," Megumi adds.

"That's only because I had to shower and pick out an outfit then do my hair and makeup," you defend.

"Isn't that a little overkill? It takes me half that time to shower, get dressed, eat breakfast, and get some homework done."

"Whatever. Your sister would understand," you sigh.

"Unfortunately, she may be worse than you."

"Women," Toji tsks. You slap his bicep and he pretends to flinch, smirking down at you playfully. "Ouch."

"Alright, well, I'm ready now. I don't wanna be late," the sixteen year old says, turning back to reach for the door handle.

"Ah ah ah, wait!" you stop him. "You're not going anywhere without me getting a good look at you. Turn around, I wanna see how the uniform fits."

Megumi lowers his head and complies, turning back around stiffly for you to admire him. You press your hand to your lips to conceal your smile, eyes gleaming with pride as you look over the sharp navy jacket and pants he adorns.

"Awwww," you coo. "It fits perfectly! How does it feel?"

"Pretty good," Megumi nods, moving his arm around slightly to show his mobility in the fabric. "It's comfortable too. It shouldn't be a problem during missions."

"I still can't believe how quickly time has gone by," you muse. "You're already going into your first year at Jujutsu High! Are you excited?"

"You better be," Toji grunts. "Your uncle Gojo hasn't gotten off my ass about your enrollment for years. At least now, he'll finally shut up."

"I still don't understand why I have to have him as a teacher. He's such a moron, I doubt he'll teach us anything useful," Megumi mumbles.

"Moron or not, he's the strongest sorcerer of the modern age and he's helped out so much. I'm sure he'll be able to give you a good experience," you say positively.

"We talkin' about the same Gojo here? The one who trashed my house playing tag with Megumi and the dogs in the living room?" Toji points out and his son grits his teeth at the memory.

"Oh come on, Satoru was like twenty one back then. I can only imagine the crazy shit you've with the kids when you were raising them," you tease.

"You don't even want to know," Megumi exhales.

"Please, you came out just fine, didn’t ya?” Toji says, reaching out his hand to ruffle at Megumi's spiky hair. The teen recoils, craning his head away and shielding himself with his arm.

"Quit it. I'm not five anymore."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You're all grown up now, I know. Gonna be a first-grade sorcerer before I can even blink an eye."

"Who said that I would be first grade? I'm only a first year."

"Yeah, and look at who your pops is," Toji grins. "Plus, you got an advantage that I never had. You'll do just fine."

Megumi hums indifferently, doubting himself momentarily but accepting the words nonetheless. "Alright, are we ready?"

"No, not yet!" you pull out your phone quickly and open the camera. "I need to get pictures."

The blue-eyed boy slumps. "(Y/n), I gotta go."

"I know, I know, just a few," you promise, holding your camera up to capture his awkward figure in the frame. "Okay, smile."

Megumi doesn't, and of course you don't actually expect him to. Instead, he calmly stares at the camera with his arms at his sides, unsure of what to do with themselves. Toji moves to stand behind you, leaning down to take a peak at the million pictures you're snapping.

"Toji, go stand with him so I can get one with the both of you."

The two groan simultaneously. "Doll, can we just focus on gettin' the kid to school?"

"It's fine. His stuff is already moved into his dorm. We have time."

"But-"

"Shut up and go stand with your son, now," you glare firmly up at the green-eyed man and he huffs.

"Yes, ma'am."

Toji raises a hand to his hip and tilts his head boredly as he stands beside Megumi, the two of them sharing the exact same blank stare as they look into the camera. You squeal happily. "You two are so cuteee!"

"We done, now?"

"No, I wanna get one more with Megs, and then I'm good." The boys give you a look, but you wave them off. "I mean it! Gosh, here Toji. Take our picture."

Toji obliges, grabbing your phone from your hand as you rush over to the tall boy. His expression melts into serenity as you place your hands on his shoulders and lean your head against his arm, smiling widely at the camera as a hint of a smile touches Megumi's lips.

Toji's heart warms at the sight, watching the way his son grows comfortable in your presence. The picture of the two of you looks so natural t to him like you are meant to be a part of his family, which he knows you are.

He snaps the photo and nods. "Got it."

You exhale, turning to face Megumi. You brush your hands over his shoulders to straighten his jacket, ridding it of any lint and wrinkles. "Okay, Megumi, please remember to be safe."

"I know. I will," he nods.

"And don't be too reckless when it comes to training."

"I won't."

"And try to make friends. I know how easy it is for you to push others away."

"I'll try."

You press your lips together with a final sigh, looking over Megumi's face warmly. You wrap your arms safely around him into a hug, your emotions getting the best of you. You have spent the past year caring for Megumi like your own, and watching him head off to achieve his goals makes your heart swell with joy and fear all the same.

"Text me or your father or Tsumiki if you need anything. Anything at all," you tell him. He returns your hug gently.

"Okay," he chuckles lightly and you pull away. "Don't worry, I'll be fine."

"...I know you will..." you pout. "Okay, I'll let you go. Good luck. I hope you have an amazing first day. I'll see you at the end of the week, yeah?"

"Mhm. I'll call you to let you know how the day went later."

"Please do."

Toji hands you back your phone and walks toward the door with Megumi. "Let's get a move on," he says. He leans over quickly to peck your lips farewell. "I'll be back in a few."

"Don't speed, Toji."

"Speeding gets you places quicker," he winks and you suck your teeth disapprovingly. Megumi opens the door, his dad gripping the frame.

"Bye, boys. Stay out of trouble," you wave, eyes glassy as you watch Megumi walk out.

"See ya, doll."

"Bye, mum."

The three of you freeze the second the words hit the air, everyone stilling in their tracks.

You feel your heart burst as overwhelming happiness consumes you. Megumi keeps his face forward, hiding his reddening cheeks as he processes what he has just said. Toji stares at the back of his son's head, eyes wide, before he turns to look at you to find your shocked, giddy face.

You don't have any time to reply when Megumi clears his throat suddenly, sweat dotting his forehead, and he walks rigidly out of the house and swiftly down the hall without looking back.

Toji stays behind, keeping an eye on you when you look up at him, stunned. "Did he just...?" you murmur.

"Yep."

Your eyes immediately well with tears and your lips wobble, your hands flying over your mouth. "He sees me as his mom?" you whisper.

Toji chuckles, ducking down to you with his hand still gripping the door. "Of course he does. He's always adored you. Him and Tsumiki."

"I'm gonna cry."

The assassin chuckles softly, pressing his thumb to the corner of your eye gently. "You're already cryin.'"

"Shut up," you sniff. "God, I love those kids so much. I just wanna give him all the hugs in the world."

"And you'll be able to. There isn't a better woman on this planet to be there for the kids," he kisses your cheek. "That's why I plan t'marry you someday."

"Fuck you, Toj. You're gonna make me cry even more."

"Sorry, baby. Can't help talkin' about it," he leans back to the doorway. "Let me get the kid squared away and make sure he's not dyin' of embarrassment, then I'll be back to talk to ya about makin' this official."

"You're being for real?"

"Of course I am."

You lower your hands and beam. "Tell Megumi I love him and get back here soon."

"I will," he hums. "But I thought you said no speeding?"

"Just- make sure the two of you at least get to the school in one peace."

He smirks. "Will do, doll."

[chuluoyi]

✎ daddy-to-be

- gojo satoru x reader

in which you're worried about how he'd react to you carrying his baby

genre: fluff and comfort, mentions of pregnancy and dizzy spells

note: i feel soooo warm writing this *sigh* thank u anon who asked this!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

"Gojo-sensei! Must we do this?"

"For real?!"

"Okaka..."

"Yoohoo! Hehehehe~"

You sighed at the sight of your tall paintbrush of a husband. Satoru was supposedly teaching his first years—Maki, Panda and Inumaki—and yet, from where you were standing, it looked more like he was bullying them into following his whims more than anything.

A kind reminder that… this silly man is the father of your unborn child.

He didn't know that you were pregnant yet, because you had discovered it just a few days ago and chosen to keep it a secret for the time being.

In theory, this was normal. You two were married and engaged in a high level of sexual activity—something Satoru made sure of—and therefore, conceiving a child was bound to happen sooner or later.

Admittedly, accepting the fact that you were carrying his baby wasn't as easy as you thought, even knowing that. You hadn't seriously talked about having kids, and sure, your husband might have just taken a young cursed boy Yuta into his care—and way before that, Megumi, but it wasn't the same with your own child. It can't be the same.

And not to mention that you two were jujutsu sorcerers. Where would raising a baby fit in this bloody, cursed world you lived in?

...and above all, as things stand now, does Satoru even want a baby?

You released another sigh as you walked away, but then your vision tipped and you had to grab the wall for support. Right, you hadn't even been feeling well these past few days. You got queasy easily, and you experienced sporadic bouts of vertigo too.

"Sensei?" Yuta's worried voice greeted you, and you forced yourself to remain upright. "Are you okay?"

"Ah, yes, I'm fine," you assured him with a smile.

"Should I get Gojo-sensei? You seem pale..."

"No, no, that's—"

"Ooh~ Wifey!"

You cursed his impeccable timing as the striking white hair of your husband came to view. A mischievous grin adorned his face, a bundle of sunshine and trouble as always, as he wrapped an arm around you.

"Don't you have to teach the second years? My pretty wife, you can't be slacking—"

His smile abruptly fell when you subconsciously leaned on him and he noticed your shallow breaths. Satoru promptly tightened his grip on you.

"Yuta," his tone had taken a sharper turn. "Go to the training grounds and train with the others. Class ends after that."

As Yuta nodded and proceeded on his way, he immediately turned to face you. "What's wrong?" he asked with genuine concern. "Are you not feeling well? Can you walk?"

"I'm fine," you insisted, even though the edges of your vision started to blur.

Satoru pursed his lips, and you could tell even with his blindfold on, he was staring at you hard. "Don't be stubborn. Come on, let's get you home."

In an instant, he teleported you back to your shared home, his arms securely under your knees. You didn't know when the dizziness started to ramp up, but you were sure to fall if he didn't have a secure grip on you.

"How long have you been feeling unwell?" he inquired as he carefully lowered you onto your bed.

Realizing there was no point in hiding it any longer, you squeezed your eyes shut as your head rested on the soft pillow. "...since this morning."

Satoru expressed his dissatisfaction with a grunt. "In that case, you shouldn't have gone to school. From now on, you're on leave."

He fussed over you—removing your shoes, fine-tuning the air conditioner, and ensuring you were snug in bed. "What is causing you to feel this bad? Is it something you ate? We had dinner together, and I feel perfectly fine..."

You raised your gaze to him just as he tore off his blindfold, his eyes locking with yours. The blue of his eyes scrutinizing and assessing you, and suddenly, you felt insecure as he quirked an eyebrow, seemingly suspecting something. “Is there something you aren't telling me?”

This is it. You couldn't keep this from him any longer. This was his child as much as yours, he had to know for you to be able to decide on the next steps.

You exhaled. "I'm… pregnant."

Silence. For the next five seconds, you could've sworn that Satoru held his own breath.

"Pregnant?" he repeated, stunned, widened cerulean marbles blinking several times. "You...?"

You sat up, reaching for your nightstand and retrieving the five pregnancy tests you had stashed in the drawer, handing them to him.

Satoru fixed his gaze onto the two red lines on the sticks, examining them and then shifting his eyes between you and them several times. You didn't dare to look at him, feeling your hands starting to shake and your gut twisting.

But contrary to your dread, before you could blink, he pulled you into his embrace. Your heart melted as he softly murmured, "Dummy, why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I... I was worried. I didn't think I..."

He nuzzled into your neck, breathing in deeply. "Silly... I'm supposed to be your safe space. You can and absolutely should tell me these kind of things..."

A lingering fear persisted in your gut as you croaked out, "Are you... okay with it?"

Satoru snapped his head so quickly, his brow furrowed. "What do you mean—of course I am! Why wouldn't I be?"

You didn't know why, but his impromptu and steadfast declaration brought tears to your eyes.

"Stupid," he chided, his voice tinged with slight giddiness and overflowing fondness, and doubled with the wide grin on his face, you were starstruck. Holding your hand, he pressed a tender kiss on your knuckles, and then on the wedding band resting on your ring finger.

His sincere, warm eyes spoke volumes as he said, "You are my beautiful, lovely, and amazing wife. And now you're about to make me a daddy. Why wouldn't I be thrilled about that?"

You had given him love that saved him in countless ways, some of which you might not even realize. And now, you were about to gift him another piece of you to love—his own family to cherish. Satoru was convinced he couldn't love you more than he did in this moment.

You cried even harder, wiping your face sloppily as you pouted at him, voice clogged with tears, a mixture of relief and happiness overwhelming you. "Why are you so s-sweet? You're u-usually... such a menace..."

"Hey! That's slander! I'm always nice to you!" he protested with a mock frown, trying to lighten the mood.

Satoru brought you into his arms again, affectionately stroking your hair. His excitement was palpable as he chuckled gleefully at the very idea of becoming a father to a mini-him or you in a not-so-distant future.

With that sentiment in mind, he genuinely meant every word of what he softly uttered in your ear:

"I love you, sweetheart. And mark my words—with everything I have, I won't let anything happen to you or our baby… I swear it."

[robynlilyblack]

But you’re over here

Fred Weasley x fem! shy! Potter! Reader

Summary: During the final game of the season, a certain redhead couldn’t care less about the trophy

Warnings/tags: swearing, friends to lovers, first kiss, getting together, mutual pining, Hufflepuff reader, potter reader, James being a good dad, Cedric being the best wing and hype man, Jess, Timothy and Joey OCs, marauders being parents

A/n: 4.4k words, ngl the alchemy plays in my head during this kiss scene, apologies for any mistakes I'm a bit ill right now, as always reader can be the bio or adopted older daughter of James and Lily, based on this and this requests ♡

Navigation | Fred Weasley Masterlist

“Oh boy, oh boy!” James claps his hands, rubbing them together in excitement as he, Lily, Remus, and Sirius reach the top of the stands 

Lily giggles at her husband's enthusiasm, following him to the front row, while Remus and Sirius brace themselves at the top, catching their breaths after a quite frankly atrocious number of stairs

Today was the big game, not only was it the old rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor, but it was the final, and the first year Harry was serving as captain after Oliver passed the torch to him two years ago. It was safe to say as fun as the Triwizard tournament was the previous year, quidditch was still the marauders and co’s favourite pastime. Hell, the whole school was buzzing

“Were they always that high?” Sirius whispers, rubbing his chest “Fuck me” he breathes heavily

“I think we’re just old now my love” Remus chuckles, after all these years he still can’t help but wind up his husband just a little bit

Sirius makes a face “Fuck you! I’m not old…you’re old!” he childishly argues, wearing a grumpy pout that twitches everyone once and again, revealing the smile beneath

“And when is your birthday?” 

Sirius’ mouth opens to reply but alas the man has nothing and is caught looking like a fish, though he’s a very cute fish in Remus’ mind

“We might be old…but you’re still as pretty as you were last time we were up here” Remus compliments, leaning down to peck Sirius’ tinting cheeks “Pretty boy” he whispers one last blow before pushing off the beam and joining his friends leaving Sirius flustered 

“Pads? You comin?” James calls out, head shooting over “Ohhhh” James barks a knowing laugh, whispering something to Remus and patting his back as he sits down

Sirius can’t help but let out a small smile as they turn away “He thinks I’m pretty” he mutters all giddy to himself before joining his friends, taking a seat between Remus and James, with Lily on James’ other side

“See! I told you we were smart coming early, it’s already beginning to fill up” Lily points out, smiling to herself as she shrugs off her jacket, grabbing the others as well, before laying them on the seats behind them to save room for when the McKinnon’s made their fashionably late appearance

James smiles, hand finding the top of Lily's head “That we were, hun” he agrees, patting her head and soaking up her proud little smile as she smooths out the rest of the coats

“Who are you looking for?” Remus asks, pulling James’ attention back to find Sirius squinting off into the distance

“Our goddaughter, I haven’t seen her in ages” Sirius pouts, squinting harder

“You saw her at Easter break” James chuckles 

“Oh yeah” Sirius nods, remembering “Still, I miss her” he confesses, warming the men's hearts

Sirius and Remus decided against children, not that they didn’t want them per se, more they couldn’t confirm the child's safety with Remus’ furry little problem. As such, they filled that hole with you and Harry. Sirius took an extra shine to you though, maybe it was your shy yet cheeky nature that reminded him of Remus, or maybe it’s the little bit of himself he saw in you, watching you get sorted into Hufflepuff when everyone else in your big, wonderfully weird family was Gryffindor. Whatever it was, though today was Harry’s day, he still had to make sure you were alright

“Do you want your glasses?” Remus offers, sighing as he watches his husbands sorry display and reaches for his bag

Sirius swats his hand away “I don’t need glasses moony, I’m fine. It’s just the wind, it’s blowing stuff in my eyes” he gestures around his face, scrunching his nose before attempting to subtly squint again

Remus’ eyes meet James’, shaking his head as he mouths ‘why can’t he admit defeat?’

James smirks, shrugging as he turns away, now interested in where you were, as is Lily after overhearing the debacle. The four searched for you as the student body make their way to the stands. Glancing around Remus’ spots a wild Weasley, smiling as he watches Ron attempt to hold back his blushes as Hermione fixes the red paint on his cheeks. Lily spots Neville, Ginny and Luna in another stand wearing their handmade lion mains. Sirius spots well…nothing, but your father on the other hand is the one to finally find you. 

He watches as you enter the stand diagonal to them with Cedric, Jess and two other boys he doesn’t quite recognise but based on their green scarfs must be Timothy and Joey, which would be two out of the four very few Slytherins in this world he accepted were good, the others being his best friends’ brother and the one and only Dorcas Meadows

“Found her” he points with joy “There she is, ain’t our little fawn beautiful” he shines, causing all their eyes to fall on you as you all worm your way to the front of your own stand

“It’s funny seeing them in red and gold” Remus notes, an amused look as he observes yours, Cedric, and Jess’s Gryffindor scarves, most likely stolen from your brother and his friends…or perhaps secretly gifted from one particular Weasley

Lily nods, but her head tilts to the side as your head taps the taller of the other boy's shoulders “They seem close, which one is he again, Tim or Joe?” she ponders trying to remember

“Tim, she said he was tall in the letters” James confirms “They aren’t together” he says with confidence

“And how would you know that Captain Oblivious?” Remus’ laughs, eyeing his friend but then his gaze drifts to peak at his husband, who's been unusually quiet, realising he’s still very much struggling to see you

Remus slowly collects the glasses from his bag again and holds them up in offering

“Dammit” Sirius sighs accepting the truth and putting them on, looking grumpy until his eyes widen, like he’s seeing a brand-new world

“Better love?” Remus teases while pointing you out again

“Shut up moo…aww there she is, beautiful as ever” he adjusts them smiling “Wait…whoa” he looks at James doing a double take as everything is now in high definition “You’ve aged so well” he notes

James’ smirks “Why thank you, I steal Lily’s muggles products” he admits unapologetically, not that it’s much of a surprise to the girl next to him who just rolls her eyes, accepting the fact she now buys two of every product just for him

“It’s the one with lighter hair, not Cedric, the taller one” Remus points out to Sirius

“Oh…” Sirius eyes the boy, judging “...nah”

“What do you mean nah?” everyone jumps a little at first turning around to see Marlene, Dorcas and the cutest little lion there had ever been joining them “Holy shi… sugar those specks are something” Marlene laughs, catching herself before glancing at her wife, mouthing an apology while their daughter looks up at them confused

“Suu’gar” the little cub repeats before pointing at Sirius “Specky!” she says excitedly “Unkie Jams t‘win” she claps, pointing between James and Sirius before jumping and clapping again all happy with herself

Sirius’ quickly pulls the glasses off, cheeks heating while the others struggle to hold in their giggles 

“I don’t need them” he looks straight at Marlene, trying his best to be convincing

She just gives him a ‘really’ look in return before smiling softly 

Sirius half chuckles, half sighs as he admits defeat, flashing the women a genuine smile “It’s good to see you Marls, you too Dorca darlin” he then looks down at little Lacy “Hello little cub” he coos 

“Rwah!” Lacy holds up her hands in a claw motion, doing her best lion impression 

It was well known the Marauders had one brain cell between them, but when that cell fired it was magical, all including her mothers and godmother pretended she was the most fearsome thing they’d ever beheld, even a couple other parents who had taken seats little ways down joined in. After some pleas and chocolate offered to calm the beast, the group settled in again, catching up as they waited for the game to start.

You rocked on your feet, eyes continually flicking to the players entrance in anticipation

“You good sunshine?” you feel a soft pat to the top of your head, looking up you’re greeted with Timothy's soft smile, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he checked in, worried the ruckus and busyness of the stand was a bit overwhelming for you

You gently tap your head into his shoulder, nodding “I’m good…just excited” you confess with warm cheeks as your nose is flooded with the scent of your scarf again

“Ahhhh” he elongates, giving you and then the scarf a look “Y/n and Freddie sitting in a tree” he whisper sings

Your eyes widen before you attempt a scowl that looks more like a puppy pouting “Shut up” you chide, fixing the scarf a little before looking away, hoping Cedric, Jess and Joey were having a more in depth conversion but instead you find them grinning “Sugar” you press your lips into a downturned smile

They all looked at each other before singing in unison 

“K…i…s…s…i…n…g!” 

Despite your cheeks positively flaming around the second ‘s’, you can help but break into a smile. Your friends knew about your little crush on the Weasley boy from afar. Despite your brother’s closeness with the family you didn’t have such ties, you adored Ginny on the few occasions she had visited, along with Ron and Hermione, but as for the rest of the clan your paths rarely crossed. You were meant to spend the summer with them as your families decided to holiday together, but when Cedric won the Triwizard tournament that changed, and instead, he took you and your friends traveling with the prize money 

Yours paths finally crossed at the beginning of the school year, when Sprout created a seating pattern allowing everyone to get familiar with their randomised Herbology partner before the end of year assignment. You were nervous at first, as you were sure the professor was when she pulled out your names. Putting the quietest person in Hogwarts with the loudest person seemed like it would either be the worst pairing she had ever seen or the most genius 

To her good fortune…and ego, it was the latter. It was surprising to see the king of mischief actually try with his assignments, but most chalked it up to the fact that while you were quiet, you were well-loved by your year, you held no prejudices, helped people with their assignments when the asked you, and was just in general sweet to everyone, to the point even the meanest Slytherins were a little soft on you. Therefore, most assumed Fred couldn’t bear to let you down either, and while that was true at first, a second reason soon bloomed for the boy

It bloomed for you as well, you slowly opened up to him each class, topics drifting to something deeper, and by the time Christmas rolled around you both were close friends. So close in fact you began inviting him to your friend’s secret hideaway by black lake, at first to study, but then to hang out both with and without your other friends. It was funny at first, with Cedric and Jess being rivals in quidditch and Timothy and Joey's Slytherin status, but Fred warmed to them, gaining their trust and, not that they told either of you, their blessing 

“I hate you all” you pout, falling into Cedric’s side hug as you shake your head

“Nah” Timothy joins from the other side

“You love us” Jess chimes in, beaming at you

“Not as much as she loves him though” Joey adds cheekily, nodding towards the pitch, it seems none of you had noticed the crowds stir for the players appearances during your teasing session

Cedric and Timothy quickly retract their grasp, smiling at one another as you lunge adorably forward to see. Your friends soon join you, all cheering, while you find Fred in the small mass of people, admiring him as he laughs with the others. After a few moments, the team is finished talking, beginning to take flight and get into position. Once there, you watch as Fred’s eyes begin to scan the crowd, heart thumping as his gaze slowly draws closer, skipping a beat when they fall on you, and damn near stopping as he doubles back, face lifting 

You see, a few weeks ago you had met Fred to check over your final herbology assignment, which meant a late-night picnic waiting to see if your flower would bloom under the full moon. While chatting, the topic of today's game came up. Of course, now that Hufflepuff were out for the count, he teased you with who you would be supporting, his teasing backfired however when, without missing a beat, said you would be supporting whatever team he was playing in. 

After his slight fluster, which, to this day is one of your proudest achievements, conversation returned to normal, you figured he’s forgotten about it until a first year found you this morning holding a small bundle of Gryffindor scarves, one of which had a red ribbon around it with a note for you

You bring your hands up, hugging the scarf as your eyes meet, causing the biggest smile to take over his face. It was times like this you truly believed your crush was requited, and little did you know a certain redhead was thinking the same thing

“Be brave and go for it” Cedric whispers some encouragement 

He’s right, you think, Now or never

As you mouth him ‘Good luck’, you add a little extra to it, blowing him a kiss

His eyes widen in a pleasant shock, melting into a mix of joy and pride as he pretends to catch it, winking at you before kissing his balled up fist before returning his gaze to the field just before the starting whistle blows

“Way to go gal” Jess cheers, reaching over to give your arm a soft squeeze

“Aww the grew up so fast don’t they” Timothy wipes an imaginary tear from his eye while Cedric and Jess both match his energy, taking out handkerchiefs and pretending to be forlorn mothers, with Joey doing the same but with an imaginary tissue

You giggle at them, and while you would usually try to come up with some sort of witty answer, you instead break into a smile “He likes me” you say simply, swaying side to side

“If he didn’t, he’d be an idiot love” Cedric gives you a side hug while the rest of your friends’ smile, happy for you “Now let’s what your man kick snake butt”

“Hey-” Joey and Tim begin to object together but then shrug 

“Oh, who are we kiddin” Timothy laughs, taking off his green scarf and pulling out a red and gold one as does Joey “Pusey’s an arsehole and I want a chance to be a bridesman at your wedding someday”

“Bridesman?” you giggle, heartwarming at the idea of you and Fred getting married someday

“Yip, Ceds already called man of honour” 

The match was a whirlwind of emotion, the kind of game that left everyone on the edge of their seats. Gryffindor and Slytherin were neck and neck at every turn, every goal answered by another, and it was clear to everyone that this match would come down who would catch the snitch first

“Holy shit, this is intense!” James exclaims, practically bouncing in his seat “Merlin, how the hell did you guys watch me and Marls do this back in the day?”

“Jamie…language!” Lily scolds with a giggle, lips quirking up in amusement as she gives Dorcas a please forgive us look

“Oh, don’t worry, Lacey can’t hear a thing thanks to these” Dorcas it waves off, gesturing to Lacey’s adorable, enchanted earmuffs “Watch this” she says leaning over the little girl perched on her lap “You want some ice cream, bubs? What about a unicorn?” 

Lacey doesn’t react at all, instead she stays focused on mimicking her other mothers’ gestures and waves towards the pitch

“Those are…” Lily starts but is promptly cut off 

“What the hell was that!” Marlene huffs, throwing up her hands as the crowds roar once more, a mix of cheers and groans as the Slytherins risky manoeuvre pays off leading to another goal “Fucking Pusey again!”

“Did you get the earmuffs for the crowd or for Marls?” Remus whispers to Dorcas, who struggles to hold back a smile

“Oi! Gingers! Stay in formation! Godric, what are you doing?!” Marlene shouts again, shaking her head as Fred and George narrowly avoid colliding whilst going for the same bludger

“No comment” Dorcas replies with a grin before planting a kiss on Lacey’s cheek

The match grows increasingly heated after Harry lets the snitch slip through his grasp, igniting a fire under Slytherins asses causing their play to get even more aggressive

“This game is insane!” Cedric grips the railing so tightly his knuckles turn white

“Come on, Freddie!” you yell, unable to stop yourself as he whizzes by

You watch him turn ever so slightly, catching your voice over the roar before he dives back into the action, pulling off a spectacular move that has more than one person flushing

“Offt…your man’s a beast” Timothy mutters as Fred swoops in to deflect a bludger, shirt riding up a little as he does “What? I can admire” his cheeks tint as he sees all of your raised eyebrows

“Don’t worry” you say with a laugh, “He’ll never admit it, but he has a little guy crush on you too”

“Really?” 

“Really” you confirm, giggling 

“Did you see that?!” Sirius exclaims, pointing towards Fred after he executes a spectacular mid-air spin to block the Bludger aimed at Angelina “Can’t deny the boys got style!”

“Sure does” James agrees but then his expression sinks to a smug one as he adjusts his glasses “Almost as cool as some of the moves we pulled off ay Marls?” he tries to get her attention but is gifted a passive ‘uh huh’ instead

“Oh, please” Remus argues, chuckling “Are we forgetting in our final year when you tried to do a spin like that and your glasses came flying clean off?”

“What?!” Lily, Sirius, and Dorcas all turned to him in unison

“Moony!” James protests before his face slowly sinks as if awaiting his impending doom

“Wait…” Marlene turns slowly, looking menacingly down at James “You’re telling me. I almost lost my final match as captain because of your speckyless ass?”

James hesitates, his ears turning near crimson as he sheepishly scratches the back of his neck “…no comment”

With one final push, the final whistle blows, and the crowd erupts into cheers. You and your friends join in, your eyes look over towards Fred, who’s the first to get to Harry, pulling him into the biggest bear hug. The sight makes your heart warm, but your admiration is cut short as your friends practically pick you up, ushering you to move 

“What’s happening” you ask confused

“Come on, we gotta get down their sunshine” Timothy insists, shooing you along with Cedric, Jess and Joey “You’ve got a ginger to congratulate”

Over on the other stands your family celebrates. Everyone’s on their feet, except Lacey who is now glued to Marlene’s hip as they cheer 

“Yesssss!” James roars, pulling Lily into a celebratory hug…and subsequent snog 

“That’s my godson!” Sirius bellows, fist pumping the air before looking to hug James then realises “Oh…well if that’s what we’re doing, come here moons!” he hithers towards Remus, arms outstretched 

Remus laughs softly before indulging his husband, pulling him in for a kiss before dramatically dipping him

Meanwhile Marlene and little Lacey remain oblivious to the romance in the air, as she was too busy yelling so hard her voice will be lost come tomorrow “THAT’S MY LIONS!”

Dorcas just chuckles at the scene, pulling out Lilys camera and snapping a shot of them all (A/n: art of this bit in the future?)

As their celebrations calm down, they notice the teams beginning to land and everyone else begin to make their way down to join them

“This takes me back” Remus lets out a small laugh watching the red and gold scarfs fly around

Nostalgia fills the air as the others join him, gazing down

“Man…that used to be us” James remarks, letting out a breathy laugh before glancing over at Marlene

She nods, a happy yet bittersweet smile on her face “Yeah…good times” she reminisces before looking down at Lacey “Times are still pretty good…maybe better” she confesses watching her little cub cheer 

Dorcas joins her side, arm wrapping around both Marlene and Lacy as their foreheads meet

“I think we should give them their moment” Lily suggests “We have time to embarrass them later” she giggles

The group hums in agreement. As their stand empties, they begin pointing out things only they are privy to from their vantage point. Like Nevilles and Lunas intertwined hands as they weave through the crowd with Ginny, Lee sprinting to hug George, the Slytherin team sulks, or even Snape begrudgingly handing a couple of gallons to McGonagall. None of them, however, have managed to spot you or your friends yet. 

“I hope y/ns alright in the crowds” James says softly next to Lily

“As long as she’s with her friends I have no doubt shell be alright” she hums, giving your fathers arm a squeeze 

“Oh, there she is…” Sirius points you out before chuckling to himself “…maybe being your twin ain’t so bad” he jokes, wiggling his glasses 

James laughs, wrapping an arm around Sirius as everyone turns their attention back towards you 

Down on the pitch, it’s a flurry of red and gold, so you hold back at the edge where it was quieter, encouraging your friends to head into the chaos and enjoy it. Jess, Joey and Timothy promise to be right back, while Cedric spots Cho in the crowd little ways from yourself and joins her, being careful not to drift too far from you

You beam as you take a couple of steps back, watching Harry get lifted up by Ron and Neville. Much like your parents and family above, you want Harry and Fred to have their moment in the spotlight. There would be more than enough time to talk to them after

Unbeknownst to you, one of that duo was already looking for you. Fred’s eyes scan the chaos for your figure, but finds a familiar blonde in the crowd first, and he smiles watching him kiss Cho’s cheek. Cedric feels the eyes on them, looking up and noticing Fred’s searching expression. He smiles, giving a knowing nod towards you, as does Cho who’s clearly been filled in on the situation. 

Fred’s eyes follow the direction and there you are, standing apart from the rest, your gaze locked on Harry. Taking a deep breath, he hypes himself up, realising in that moment you aren’t just wearing his scarf, but the jumper he gave you to keep warm a few weeks ago as well. That along with the kiss you blew him earlier, are all the signs he needed to finally make a move

“Oi, Freddie” George calls as he moves away from the rest of the team “Where ya going?” George tries again but to no avail, Fred’s already gone, pushing through the crowd, using his broom to help manage the masses

As he breaks free, you do a double take, and he finds himself smiling as your confused expression melts into hope and joy

“You’re supposed to be over there” you tell him, taking a few steps forward as he closes the gap

“But you’re over here” he replies simply before leaning closer, eyes searching yours for permission 

You bite your lip, giving him a nod, to which his own smile grows and his broom is abandoned as his larger hands come up to cradle your cheeks guiding them up towards his lips as they crash into your own. You clutch the front of his sweater, pulling him closer but Fred being the showman he is had other ideas. His hands drop down, snaking around your hips before he dips you back. You squeal at first, then laugh softly with him before your lips reconnect. After that the rest of the world fades away. The cheers and buzz around you becoming a distant hum, neither of you reacting to your friends’ cheers nor the flash of Jess’ camera 

Your friends aren’t the only spectators of course…

“Wait…” Marlene points towards you and Fred “…is he about to…oh!” her mouth drops open, gently covering Lacey’s eyes while Dorcas smiles in a happy shock beside her 

Remus, Sirius, Lily are next to react, eyes widening, before breaking into smiles. Remus and Sirius take a moment longer, clearly doing the ‘does he deserve her’ math in their heads first

“That’s my girl” Lilys hands come up to face, overjoyed, she had an inkling you were a little love struck from your letters, she just didn’t know with who until now

“He’s alright” Sirius begrudgingly admits while Remus nods in agreement

Their smiles and shock soon melt into anticipation as they all slowly turn towards James, who had been a bit too quiet considering the situation. But when they see him, he is…beaming?

Turns out Lily wasn’t the only one with an incline, in fact, James being the girl dad he was, has known about every crush you’ve ever had, your one on Fred being no different. Safe to say, he was ecstatic

“Yes!” he cheers “Oh the dips a nice touch, very classy” he nods in approval before looking over at the others “What?” he takes in their shocked faces

“Prongs?” Remus eyes him “You realise that’s y/n, right?” he feels the need to check

“Yeah” James shrugs before his mouth makes an ‘oh’ shape, his reply sending them into fits of laughter “I’m supposed to be mad right now, aren’t I?”

Thank you for reading ♡

[nightmare-niko]

Pretty When You Cry [Father Charlie Mayhew x reader]

pt. 2

Word Count: 1916

Warnings: manhandling, kinda munch! Charlie, one slap, mean! Dom Charlie, blasphemy (they fuck in the church😬)

A/N: not my gifs! I have the originals reblogged on my page😘 this was actually already being written and then I got an anon request for basically exactly what I was already writing!! Hope ya like it hehe 🙃 i also dont really ever write like this kind of smut so i hope i did good!!

Copying or translating my writing is not allowed. If you see my work on another site it is stolen. Reblogs are appreciated and encouraged.

You weren't a religious person by any means. But staying the night at your parents had you up early, trying to find the most church-appropriate outfit. of course, your parents failed to tell you that they were planning on bringing you along to church. Your skirt was a bit too short. But it is not like you had room to complain with such short notice!

You remember going to high school with Father Charlie— or as you knew him Charlie. The two of you didn't run with the same crowds-- but you knew each other.

Now, here you were. Paying no attention to the words coming from his mouth and all attention to how good he looked. Damn-- maybe you should have shot your shot years ago when he was a personal trainer.

As you watched him at the head of the room, you allowed your mind to wander.

One extremely long and boring sermon later, you stand awkwardly behind your parents as they talk to what Seems like every member of the church. God how you regret agreeing to come-- It's not like you knew anyone here- none of your friends went to church. But here you were, being judged by middle-aged churchgoers. How fun.

The sound of your name being called catches your attention.

You whip your head around to the noise, "Father Charlie!" The name is unnatural as it falls from your lips. You quickly look at your parents- too engrossed in a conversation. “It's been a while!" You awkwardly step closer to the man.

He hums, "It has been, hasn't it? The first time in the church as well.”

“Well, you know...” You gesture back to your parents.

"I'm assuming this wasn't on your schedule.” He looks you up and down, “Given your attire.”

You gasp sharply, heat rising to your face as you pathetically try to pull your skirt down. "I-uh,” you try to think of an excuse, "I didn't pack any pants..." You lie-- lying in a church is one thing but to the priest?

If Charlie sensed your lie he didn't comment on it. "Well, I hope you enjoyed today's sermon.”

"I did!" You lie again, a little too enthusiastically.

Charlie narrows his eyes at you, "You weren't paying attention, were you?" His voice is playful.

"No, I was not," You quickly confess.

He laughs, you have to fight to not stare shamefully at his beautiful face for too long. "That's odd— because when I looked at you, you looked very focused," He teases.

“I wasn't paying attention to your voice. Just your fa-" you stop in your tracks. Utterly petrified at the situation you have just found yourself in. His eyebrows raise in surprise at your slip-up. “I mean I didn't even know that you could see me in that crowd-- I-I- just figured that-”

“That every time we locked eyes it wasn't on purpose?” he finishes your thought.

You nod pathetically, your shoes suddenly extremely interesting.

Charlie takes a step towards you, the proximity making you look up at the man. Has he always been that tall? "I want you to go into my office and wait for me.” His voice is a seductive tone you have never heard him use before. It sends a shiver down your spine.

“But what about my parents?” you ask, voice just above a whisper.

“Dont worry about them,” he assures before walking away. Leaving you standing alone— stunned.

To say you were terrified was an understatement. Sure, you weren't in any danger-- at least you didn't think so. What exactly had you gotten yourself into? Here you sat, in a priest's office. Surrounded by biblical Imagery. And you were 99% Sure you were soaked through your cotton panties, you didn't care. No one but you was going to know... right?

Five minutes turned to ten. You sat anxiously in the chair across from Charlie's desk. A clock on the wall ticked away obnoxiously. You had figured when you walked in it would take him a while for him to return. how long should you wait? Has he forgotten that you were sitting in his office, impatiently waiting? You didn't dare to snoop, or even scroll on your phone. Charlie said to wait for him, and that's what you would do.

For thirty minutes you're alone in that office. you straighten your posture when you hear the clicks of Charlie’s boots nearing. The sound of the door opening makes you flinch pathetically. You don't dare turn around. Eyes glued on the desk in front of you.

Charlie is silent as he moves around behind you. Your pulse pounds in your throat at the anticipation.

“You seem nervous.” You tense at his voice, still refusing to turn around and face the man.

You try to swallow the lump in your throat, “I am nervous, Father.” You press your thighs together in an atempt to find some sort of relief to your throbbing center.

He groans quietly from behind you, “look at me.”

Like a magnet your head whips around to look at the man. His sharp gaze made your breath hitch. You felt hazy as he stepped towards you. Your eyes locked on his as he comes to stand right in front of you. Your breath quickens when he captures your chin in between his thumb and pointer finger.

Charlies predatory gaze on you deepens, his lips curling into a smirk, "you--" he rubs the lipstick on your mouth, smudging it. "Are such a pretty mess for me, darling.”

You bat your eyelashes up at him, “I don't know what you mean, Father.”

He grips the sides of your face harshly, cheeks smushing together into a pout. “Showing up to my church dressed like a slut—” he spits, “shamlessly eyefucking me the whole time like you were the only one in the room.”

You whimper at his words— he was right of course. But that didn't stop your face from flushing in embarrassment.

“Now look at you. Slut. Sitting before me like a doe as if you didn’t wait in my office hoping I would come in here and fuck you like the whore that you are.”

You moan shamelessly when he lets go of your face, while your whole body was screaming at you to submit to the man before you. You could help but push his buttons just a little bit further.

“You know for a priest you sure do have a filthy mouth—” His eyes narrow on you as you speak. “im such a slut but here you are hard in your pants over a damn mini skirt.” If looks could kill, you’d surely be dead. You needed more.

You open your mouth to speak again. But before you could even get a sound out, Charlie strikes his large hand across your cheek. You moan again, “fuck!”

Wordlessly, he turns to the desk before you. You watch curiously as he haphazardly pushes the clutter on his desk onto the floor. Your hands tremble in anticipation as you watch him bound towards you. He effortlessly picks you up from the chair you sat on, as if a reflex you cross you’d ankles behind his back as his hands greedily grip your thighs and ass.

He gently places you on the recently cleared off desk. A stark contrast to the way he effortlessly hoisted you from your seat. You attempt to grind down in the wooden desk under you for some kind of stimulation, but Charlie’s grip stops you.

“So impatient,” he purrs. He captures your lips in a quick, gentle kiss. You whine at the loss of him, but you don’t have to worry for long as his hands greedily grasps at your skirt, tearing at your legs. He leaves you with one last opened mouth kiss as he begins to trail wet kisses down your neck.

He mumbles something you can’t quite hear. But you don’t really care when he sinks to his knees, his strong hands prying your legs open. He trails more kisses to your inner thigh all the way up to your core. He licks a stripe over your soaked through panties, your legs try to close but his hands are holding your thighs open. His eyes lock on yours as he pulls them down your legs, the speed agonizing as you whimper. In a second his lips are back on you, his wet kisses up your thighs driving you mad.

“Charlie,” You thread your hand through his hair as he bites and licks at your heat like a starved man.

He mumbles a quick “no,” as he pulls away from you. His chin slicked and shiny from you. The scene is pornographic, if you had a camera you’d take a picture. He fumbles with his belt buckle and throws it to the side, the metal clanking to the floor loudly. You shamelessly stare as he stands back up, towering over you again he gets close enough that you feel his breath on your face.

“Look at you,” he tuts. You lurch forward— pulling him into a greedy, filthy kiss. When he moans into your mouth it’s the most heavenly sound you’ve ever heard. Pushing you back into the desk, once again he’s muttering something, a prayer. You paw at his zipper and he lazily watches you has you pull out his angry cock.

“Please?” You beg, tears welling up in your eyes from sheer sexual frustration.

“Since you asked so nicely~” he steals a quick kiss before dragging his leaking tip through your folds.

He pushes into you fully in one smooth motion. Your back arches up off of the desk, wood painfully digging into your spine. You didn’t care— all you cared about was him.

Fast sharp deep thrusts have you screaming as the sounds of skin ring throughout the office. You curse- throwing your arms over your head. Charlie’s mouth gaping while he groans, pressing and thrusting himself into you.

"Just, like that, oh.. god." You wail as he slams himself into your g spot repeatedly.

Charlie greedily paws at your clothed breasts as his hips slap into yours. You clench around him— you can already feel your orgasm building from the rough pace set. Charlie’s hips stutter from your action and you clench again. A low groan leaves his beautifully shaped lips as he digs his fingers into your hips.

You moan— you try to form words but Charlie feels so good inside of you that your brain feels like mush. He seems to be able to tell your close however by the way his thumb reaches down to rub sloppy circles onto your clit.

Your vision turns white as you come undone. Your nails dig into the desk below you as Charlie chases his own release. He leans down, pressing kisses into your cheeks and necks, unlike the kisses before; these are gentle and caring. You hiss when he pulls out of you, missing the feeling of him inside you immediately.

“How much convincing will it take for you to come to next weeks service?” He breathily laughs against the side of your face.

“If it’s gonna end like this again— none at all.”

♡︎༻🌸༺♡︎

Tag list (If you want to be added just comment!)

@Nallasstuff @chmpgneprblem @qoopeeya @lilybellalana @sleepysongbirdsings

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

The Alley (and Your Boyfriend?)

Minors, ageless and blank blogs do not interact. Smut written with AFAB reader in mind. ~2.8k words

Jason Todd is your ex-boyfriend. Kind of. You dated, yeah, sure. But it was in high school, years ago now. You had moved away before the school year had finished, and both of you agreed to remain friends, to keep in touch.

Life had different plans for both of you. The last time you had been in Gotham was for his funeral, so you think you deserve some leeway if you're staring at the man across the bar who looks just like him. Well, not exactly like him.

You're supposed to be celebrating your new job in Gotham, the apartment you've finally unpacked with your friends, but his eyes.

You could never forget the color of Jason Todd's eyes. Not when he was your first everything. Not when you know how his eyes would glint before he stole a kiss. How they would shine as he whispered sweet nothings and pretty promises.

(Okay, so maybe he was more to you than you're willing to admit. Maybe he wasn't just kind of your boyfriend.)

You'd probably be lost in thought over the color of his eyes for the rest of night, if his gaze didn't happen to meet yours.

Heat spreads across your face, and you duck your head. Shit. He caught you staring. The big, attractive man across the bar who has the eyes of your dead ex-boyfriend caught you staring.

That's fine. Mortifying, yes, but you quickly focus back on whatever your friends are talking about, trying to play it off.

You're finishing your drink, hoping he brushed you off, when a low voice cuts in, "Can I buy you another drink?"

Your eyes snap up to meet Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome. Your train of thought halts to a stop, he's ever prettier up close.

Before you've even managed to find your words, your friends are pushing you up and out of your seat, scrambling over each other to agree that he can absolutely buy you a drink.

He tilts his head a little at you, feet firmly planted against the ground as he waits for you to answer, "Is that a yes from you, doll?"

"I– yes. Thanks," You stumble out, and you might have gone a little weak in the knees at his grin.

He guides you over to the bar, and holds up two fingers as the bartender comes over. "Whiskey, and whatever they want."

You ask for a refill of your drink and sit beside him at the bar before introducing yourself.

He raises an eyebrow at you, "I'm Jason."

"My ex was named Jason," You blurt out, then wince. That's probably not what anyone wants to hear when they're introducing themselves. And it's definitely not what they want to hear while trying to pick someone up at a bar.

He hums thoughtfully, "I don't remember breaking up with you."

You blink at him, is that some kind of a pick-up line? "No, I meant, I really dated someone named Jason in high school."

He grins at you, "I know. I was there."

You frown a little, "Like in the same class?"

He laughs. It's a really pretty sound, if you weren't so confused, you would have swooned, "No, doll. Don't tell me you don't recognize me?"

Your gaze hardens, "If this is some kind of a joke–"

He says your name, effectively cutting you off, "It's me."

"He died," You murmur, so quiet it almost gets lost under the beat of the music.

He shrugs, and pushes your drink towards you as the bartender sets it down, "I got better."

"Prove it," You retort, fingers tapping the glass of your drink. You're this close to up and leaving. It makes your stomach churn, not knowing what game this man is playing.

He gives you a familiar, lopsided grin, "Prove that I got better?"

You scoff and go to stand up, but you waver at how he actually seems upset over it.

"Hey, hey, wait," he protests, holding out an arm to block you from leaving, "We had our first kiss in the back of Wayne Manor, in that old gazebo covered in vines. You asked me out because I was so obviously head over heels for ya, but I was too scared to ask. You said you'd wait for me when your family moved, and I said I'd wait for you too."

Your breath hitches at his rambling, it's–all of it is true. Memories you held close to your chest but never let yourself relive because of how much they hurt, the bittersweetness of it all. "Jason," You breathe out.

He relaxes, and smiles at you, "Yeah."

"How are you..." You trail off, taking in every inch of him. How much he's grown. How much he's changed.

He rubs the back of his neck, "It's, uh, a long story. It's not very nice either."

You nod slowly, "We don't have to talk about it."

He looks genuinely surprised, "We don't?"

"No, it's just good to, you know, see you," You tell him. It's the truth, whatever story he's carrying, whatever events brought him here, doesn't really matter right now. Not as long as he's alive and in front of you.

"It's good to see you too," Jason tells you, and you feel butterflies when he reaches over to touch your thigh, "Hey, am I really your ex?"

The absurdity of the question makes you want to laugh, "It has been a while since we talked, Jason."

You do giggle when he actually pouts at you, "You said you'd come back to Gotham for me one day."

"I am back in Gotham," You point out, "Got an apartment here and everything."

Interest sparks in his eyes, "Yeah? You're staying around here?"

You hum noncommittally, "In Gotham at least."

It surprises you, how easy it is to slip back into a flowing conversation with him. You reminisce about your shared past, he asks you what you've been up to, how your life has been, and before you know it, your drinks are empty and the bar is informing you of it's last call.

"Can I walk you home," Jason asks, hovering at your side, "or call you a ride?"

Your friends had long since told you they were leaving, and you have the urge to make this night last a little longer. It may be selfish, to want to stay in sight of those eyes, but you let yourself be selfish, "Walk me home?"

The way his eyes sparkle tells you you made the right choice.

You really do mean for him just to walk you home. So you're not exactly sure how you ended up making out with your ex-boyfriend in a dirty alley way.

It makes your head spin, how his hands dig into your waist to tug you closer. How he chases your mouth every time you pull back to suck in a breath.

It's desperate, needy, and you want to keep your fingers curled into the cool leather of his jacket forever. Jason crowds your space, backing you towards the wall, he trails kisses down your jaw, occasionally nipping at your skin to leave pretty, bruised marks.

"Wait–" You start, digging your heels into the ground.

He pauses, and pulls back, "Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't meant to–"

"No!" You practically shout, not wanting him to misunderstand, "it's just– the wall is dirty," You finish weakly.

He blinks, then grins at you, "Is that all you're worried about, doll? Just the wall?"

You nod, sheepish as you fidget with the zipper of his jacket.

He hums thoughtfully and kisses the crown of your head, "I got something for ya," he murmurs, tugging off his leather jacket.

Before you can ask what he's doing, he drapes the coat over your shoulders, and guides your arms through the sleeves, "There, better?"

"Better," You echo, much more willing to let him push you against the wall, to let him suck your pulse and press his hands under your clothes. The leather is soft, smells like him, and the bricks behind you don't even register as he presses against you.

You're both eager, both grasping at fabric and skin. Your eyes light up, when as you're licking a stripe up his neck, Jason tilts his head back and moans.

It's a noise you want to hear again, and when you take his ear between your teeth, you're rewarded with another sweet sound.

Neither of you waste any time to push aside the clothes you're wearing. Half-dressed and panting, you fumble with his belt in the empty alley. He doesn't hesitate to hike your leg over his hip, pressing sloppy kisses along your jaw.

"You're sure about this," Jason asks, lips hovering over the juncture where your shoulder meets your neck.

"Yeah," You breathe out, tangling a hand in his hair to steady yourself, "Are you?"

"Never been more sure of anything," he says firmly, and bites down on your skin as if to seal his words as fact.

He's hungry, as he captures your mouth with another passionate kiss, and you're just as desperate and wanting. Desire pools in your gut as you grind your hips into his, voice pitching into a whine, "Please?"

The neediness in your eyes when you look up at him nearly makes his knees buckle, "Fuck, yes, doll. Whatever you want."

He's not one to make you ask again, and shamelessly presses a finger to your cunt. "Look at you," he breathes out, slowly pumping one finger in and out, gathering your wetness, "You're dripping."

You don't bother choking back the whine that escapes your lungs, only grab his hair tighter when he adds a second finger, carefully working you open for him.

His eyes, your breath catches, when his eyes seem to darken, coveting every reaction you have, every expression that flits across your face.

"Feels good, doll'" he coaxes, scissoring his fingers. When all you manage is a hazy nod, he grins and adds a third finger, curling them as he presses deeper, "C'mon, you can use your words."

"Jason, yeah, feels good," You answer, breathless and full of desire. You squirm, bucking your hips into his hand in an attempt to get him to move faster, "but I want you."

He hums thoughtfully, and presses the palm of his hand to your clit, grinding into the sensitive flesh. When your eyes flutter and your body clenches around him, he coos in approval.

"Good," he says fondly, pressing a kiss to your lips before slowly pulling his fingers away. You almost pout at the loss, but the sight of him lewdly licking off the remnants of you in his hand more than makes up for it.

Your jaw may have dropped, and you may have looked a little more dumbfounded than you're willing to admit, but any embarrassment turns to excitement when he lines his cock up to your weeping pussy.

Neither of you looks away as he pushes into you, inch by delicious inch. It turns you into a whimpering, groaning mess as you sigh out his name, eyes half lidded.

“Yeah, pretty,” He prompts, voice a low rumble as he watches you. He can't pick which sight he likes better, the way your eyes flutter, or the way you're greedily taking in everything he has to give.

He can’t help the smug smirk that spreads over his face when you mewl out his name, clearly delighted at the effect he has on you. “There you go, Doll. Let me hear you say my name again," He coos, trailing his free hand over your thigh to find your clit again.

You're eager to chant his name again when he starts to shallowly thrust between your legs. He moans when you clamp down around his dick, and it spurs him to move faster.

Jason groans deeply as he feels your body react, his eyes darkening with desire as he pushes into you again. You both breathe out a sigh of relief and ecstasy when you take him to the base of his cock.

"Good. Doing so good, doll," he mumbles, using all his self-control to hold the pressure against your cervix for a few moments, letting you adjust, before pulling back slightly.

You tug a little at his hair, it's addicting, how full he makes you feel, how desperate you are for more, "You can move, want you to move."

He hums, and seems more interested in moving his mouth along your jaw, biting and sucking his way down your neck to leave marks on your skin. Jason sucks a prominent bruise onto your freshly bitten skin until it’s pretty and bruised and all his.

You groan, and it only encourages him to drag his hand from your folds and pinch your nipple between his fingers.

"Jason," You protest, rolling your hips to try and entice him to finally move.

“Mhm. You like the sound of my name, pretty? You wanna keep saying it while I make you feel good?” He murmurs, his voice low and rough and breathless against your skin.

He starts to roll your nipple between his fingers, pinching and kneading the sensitive peak.

"Jason, move'" You whine, almost desperate. His eyes lock on your eyes, and you're completely lost to him.

His thumb gives your nipple one last swipe before he settles his hand between your thighs again, eyes raking over your face like he wants to memorize the expression of pleasure that’s taking over at the moment, "There you go, it sounds so perfect when you say my name like that."

His other hand squeezes your thigh affectionately, and before you can protest again, he pulls halfway out, savoring how you twitch around him. You cry out in pure pleasure when he thrusts back into your heat.

He swallows your cries with a kiss, and starts to pick up his pace, steady and relentless.

You can only tip your head back and moan, as you drag your nails along his scalp, panting and trembling under his grip.

“So goddamn good,” Jason mutters, pressing himself as deep as he can go with every movement. He starts to ramble your name, driving his cock against the spot that makes you gasp over and over.

He's relentless, all consuming and you almost miss it when he murmurs against your throat, "Not your ex now, am I?"

You curse, and shudder around him, clawing at his shoulder. It doesn't make his pace falter, if anything it drives him to push a little more, to move a little fast, to test your limits.

You feel his pleased smile form against your skin when you start to chant his name, breathless and needy and so, so close to the edge.

"There ya go, come for me, doll," he encourages, and when you do, when you soak his cock and sob his name, he fucks you through your climax.

He ruts into your fluttering hole until his own hips stutter, his fingers dig into your skin hard enough to leave bruises, and he cums inside of you. He rides out both of your releases, fucking his spend back into you even as it starts to leak and drip down your thighs.

Jason presses his forehead to yours, going still against you, his eyes dart over your face as you both pant, sticky, sweaty, and messy. He grins at you when you blink at him with glassy eyes, "You look good like this. I could see it every day, and it still wouldn't be enough."

You're not exactly sure where he finds the energy to praise you, but it makes you tuck your face against his shoulder as you catch your breath.

He presses a kiss to the side of your head, "Gonna take you home and run you a bath. Then, we're gonna cuddle till you fall asleep and I'll make you breakfast in the morning. Sound good?"

You whine softly when he pulls out of you, already mourning the feeling of him inside you, but you manage to nod.

True to his word, Jason carries you home and draws you a bath. You fall asleep with him curled around you, and when you wake up, the sound of him cooking breakfast makes its way to the bedroom.

And if you entice him to bend you over the counter before you eat, letting the food go cold, or suggest you show him just how well you fit in his lap, that's none one's business but yours.

It shouldn't surprise you, if you do encourage him to find out what you taste like on his tongue, that Jason never really leaves. Sooner rather than later, he'll make sure any use of the word 'ex' disappears from your lips.

[quelsentiment]

.

[steddieasitgoes]

Eddie helps Jeff and Grant move into their freshman college dorms. Eddie's not going to college; it took him six years to graduate high school. He's not about to put more time and now money into a dead-end education, but he respects the guys' decision.

They're upset the university's stupid roommate questionare didn't pair them together. They answered everything exactly the same, and yet they still got split up. It's bullshit. Eddie knows it, they know it, everyone knows it. But it is what it is. Jeff doesn't want to make waves with the school, and Grant's just happy they accepted his sorry ass, so they'll have to live with it.

Jeff, Gareth, and Grant are currently figuring out how they're going to smuggle a microwave into Grant's room. Eddie leaves them to it, already holding a box marked for Jeff in his hands. He saunters out of the elevator and down the hall toward Jeff's room, nodding his head at anyone who does the same to him.

College is weird, he thinks. No one has sneered at him -- not even the frat dude bro type who checked Jeff and Grant in earlier. Maybe it's true what they say, college is full of open-minded people. He'll let the boys be the guinea pig on that one.

Jeff's door is half shut when he gets there, which is weird because he knows they left it wide open. They still have to bring in his record collection, and even though he ditched hundreds at home, the box is still way heavier than it should be. Having to put it down to open the door is a no go.

Thankfully, the box Eddie is carrying now is rather light so he turns and uses what little ass he has to bump the door open before sliding inside.

He stops dead in his tracks as Jeff's roommate turns to meet his gaze.

Eddie doesn't believe in God, doesn't believe in angels -- he likes to think Demons exist, but that's more of an aesthetic thing than anything else -- but he's pretty sure he's in the presence of an angel.

No, he's certain he is.

The large window between the beds shoots rays of sunshine through the horizontal blinds, painting the guy in beautiful shades of yellow and orange. And jesus h. christ the shadow gives off the illusion of a halo around his gorgeous, lush, perfectly styled hair.

He's wearing a sweater -- how he's wearing a sweater in the sweltering heat, Eddie doesn't know, but he is -- with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Eddie can't help but let his eyes take in the miles and miles of sun-kissed skin, unmarked with ink like his own but decorated with freckles and moles that Eddie wants to trace, connecting them like constellations he spent decades staring at on the roof of the trailer back at home. And, okay, maybe a few other unholy thoughts also pop into his head -- sue him.

He has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at that. Of course Eddie's first thought upon stumbling on an angel is to wreck them.

"Hey, I'm Steve," the man says, extending a hand out to Eddie.

Jesus H. Christ, it's bigger than any hand has any right to be. Eddie's mind immediately wonders what else might be bigger than most. He can't help it.

"You must be Jeff," he smiles. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"Yep, that's me!" Eddie says without thinking it through. He scrambles to put the box down and reaches out to shake Steve's hand.

It's a firm handshake, what Wayne would call "business-like," but it sends a burst of electricity coursing through Eddie's body. It's silly, really silly, but Eddie doesn't think his hand has ever fit so perfectly in someone else's before.

Maybe they're soulmates. He doesn't believe in those either, but he could if this Steve guys is his.

Steve smiles and drops his hand a second later and Eddie tries his best not to buckle under the loss of touch.

"What do you think of the place?" Steve says. His hands shoot to his waist, settling there as he gives the room a bitchy glance over. "It's a lot smaller than I was expecting."

"At least it's only a double," Eddie says. "My friend's stuck in a triple."

Poor Grant. As if losing out on rooming with Jeff isn't enough, he really got fucked.

Steve whistles lowly. "Damn, man, that sucks."

He squats then, digging through an already unopened box, and Eddie feels faint. His jeans were already tight, but with his new angle, they're stretched to the max, leaving very, very, very little to be imagined. And Eddie has no problem imagining anything, much less what the skin under those pale blue jeans looks like.

Steve's shirt rides up a bit as he leans over more, really sifting through the box now, and the tiny sliver of skin above the waistband of his boxers is enough to send Eddie into full-blown gremlin mode.

Maybe he should have applied to college.

"So, Jeff," Steve says, standing again and glancing between the two beds.

Neither has seemed to claim them yet. Jeff -- the real Jeff -- didn't want to be rude, and judging by the single box Steve's been looking through, he's only just started the move-in process.

"Got any bed preferences?"

Sharing it with you.

No, no! he scolds himself.

"Nope, have at it," Eddie says, casting his arms out wide and bending at the waist. He's not sure why he's done it, but by the time he registers how weird it might be, it's too late. So he commits to the bit, and it's worth it when Steve chuckles.

"Cool, cool," he nods. "I'll take this one, then." Steve shuffles over to the bed farthest from the door and tests the firmness with his hand. It gives just enough to make Steve smile. "I can work with this, if you know what I mean."

Eddie thinks he's really gone and died then because Steve honest to god winks at him.

Winks!

At. Him.

Eddie!

What the fuck.

"Yeah," he croaks, a little awkward and a whole lot aroused. He needs to get out of here before he jumps Jeff's roommate and accidentally gets him kicked out. Better yet, he needs to figure out how to get enrolled and kick Jeff out of his room himself. "Alright, well, I've got more shit to bring up, so I'll be back."

"I'll be here."

Eddie nods then bolts, ditching the elevator altogether and taking the three flights of stairs two at a time. Jeff's still arguing with boys when he gets down there, sweaty and out-of-breath.

"Jesus, what happened to you?" Gareth snaps.

"Oh no," Jeff winces. "Is my roommate a dick? Did he chase you out?"

"No," Eddie pants, shaking his head widly. He reaches out with both hands and slams them down on Jeff's shoulders way harder than he needs to. "Your roommate, Steve-- he's-- I think I'm in love."

The guys burst into laughter.

"Here we go again," Gareth says, rolling his eyes.

"You just met the guy," Grant adds. "How could you possibly be in love?"

"You can't be in love with my roommate," Jeff scolds, shaking Eddie's hand off of him.

"Jeff, Jefferson, Jeffery," Eddie rambles. "I am in love. He is the man I am going to marry. The one who will father my children. The one to tame this wild horse--"

"You've slept with two dudes, Eddie. I don't think that makes you a wild horse," Gareth scoffs.

Eddie ignores him. He doesn't have time to deal with Gareth. Not when Steve is upstairs waiting for him.

"I need to go back to him."

Eddie moves to step around the three, eager to grab another box with Jeff's name on it and get back to Steve. Back to the love of his life. But Jeff blocks him.

"No. No. Absolutely not," Jeff says, reeling Eddie back in. "I have to live with this guy for a year. You are not going back up there and making it weird."

"Well then I have good news for you," Eddie says, wicked grin already breaking out onto his face.

"This can't be good," Grant mumbles.

"You don't even have to go up there. He thinks I'm Jeff."

"Okay, but you're not Jeff," the real Jeff says, crossing his arms. "I'm Jeff and I'm going to go to my room and introduce myself to my roommate and you're going to stay far, far, far away from him."

Eddie shakes his head. "You can't do that! He'll think I'm a liar."

"You are a liar," Gareth butts in.

"Eddie," Jeff groans. "I have to go up there! I live here. I'm Jeff. He needs to know the truth."

"Or, or!" Eddie shouts, full of frantic energy now. He's bouncing on the balls of his feet, mind reeling a million miles an hour as the plan starts to form in his head. This could work. It could totally work. "How about I pretend to be you for the next year and you can be me."

"Dude, no!" Jeff scoffs. "I worked my ass of to get here. I'm not trading lives with you so you can try to fuck my roommate."

"Oh, I won't have to try," Eddie says. "He might have already offered."

"Oh my god. My roommate thinks I want to fuck him."

"Your roommate doesn't even know you exist," Grant corrects.

"What were you thinking?" Jeff shouts.

"He clearly wasn't thinking with his head," Gareth says.

"This is a disaster."

"No," Eddie says, shaking his head. He doesn't know why they're being so catastrophic about this. It's fine. It's all going to be fine. "Okay, new plan, I'll pretend to be you but only in your dorm. You can still go to class and do all the college shit. I'll only be Jeff to Steve."

"And where am I supposed to live?"

"With Grant."

"Asshole! I'm already in a triple! We can't house another person."

"And you're not even enrolled!" Jeff adds. "What happens when the RA finds out? I'll get kicked out and you'll--"

"Go to jail."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "I don't think people go to jail for impersonating college students, Gare."

"They might!" Gareth says, throwing his hands up. "Are you really going to risk going to jail just for a chance at fucking Jeff's roommate?"

"Well, I hope it would be more than fucking. I did say I was in love."

Gareth doesn't get it. The only thing he's ever loved is his drum set -- and he can't marry that. Not even in bumfuck Indiana.

He goes back to ignoring Gareth and focuses on Jeff. He braces his hand on his shoulders again and slinks down to his knees. He's not above begging. Not for this. Not for the angel that is Steve who is probably wondering where he is right now.

"Jeff," Eddie says, hitting the pavement. He retracts his hands from Jeff's shoulders and clasps them together in prayer. He's making a scene.

"Get up, you're making a scene," Jeff hisses, yanking him back to his feet. Eddie goes willingly and Jeff huffs. "Alright, alright. Let me think."

"You can't seriously be considering this," Grant chimes in. "Eddie's plan is shit. It'll never work."

"I know that!"

Eddie watches as Jeff paces in a circle with his eyes closed. If he wanted to, he could bolt right now. Grab a box and make a run for it. Lock himself and Steve in the room and not come out until he's sure Jeff won't rat him out. Holding Steve hostage might not be the best impression to give Steve though, so he stays put.

"Okay, how about this," Jeff says and Eddie gives him his undivided attention. "The two of us are going to go back to my dorm and we're going to set the record straight--"

"No! That's--"

"Eddie," Jeff says, firmly. "If you really do love my roommate or well, you want to eventually love him. You have to tell him the truth."

Jeff's right. He's always right that's why he's going to college on a scholarship and Eddie's not. But he doesn't like it. Steve's going to think he's a total weirdo and he'll never get a chance to see what's actually under those tight ass pants.

Still, Jeff's right.

"Fine."

Steve really is an angel because he doesn't even bat an eye at the truth. He does laugh, but Eddie doesn't mind that. He wishes he had his cassette recorder and a mic so he could record it. It's music to his damn ears, and he knows a thing or two about music.

Jeff and Steve hit it off and Eddie tries not to pout about it as he continues lugging in box after box. When Eddie's van is finally empty, Grant and Gareth meet up with them in Jeff's room. Steve introduces himself and Eddie can tell they're both silently judging him.

Yes, this is the dude he would risk going to jail for, Gareth. Eddie thinks, he hopes Gareth gets the message in the glare he shoots his way. He thinks he does.

It turns out Steve also has a best friend who just moved in, too. She's in a different building than them, but he's meeting up with her for pizza at the parlor down the street. He invites them all to go and Eddie says yes on behalf of all of them a little to quickly.

When they get there, Steve introduces them all -- Jeff, Gareth, Grant. He gets all their names right, even Gareth, but when he gets to Eddie, he smirks. "And this," he says, smiling as he slings an arm around Eddie's shoulder. "This is not-Jeff my not-roommate."

"Hi, Not Jeff," Robin says.

Eddie laughs and introduces himself to her with his real name and Robin nods before her eyes lock on with Steve. He can tell they're non-verbally communicating with each other. It's not unlike the way he is with the boys. One look is all it takes sometimes for them to know what he's thinking.

It's weird watching it happen from the outside and especially difficult when he's still stuck under Steve's arm. Not that he minds that part not at all.

Finally, her lips quirk up into a smile and she pulls her gaze from Steve, letting it land on Eddie. At the exact same time, Steve's name gets called and he excuses himself to get pizza, leaving the two of them alone.

Robin's smile falters just a bit as she takes a step closer to him, replacing the spot where Steve just was. "Just so you know, I'm obsessed with Murder, She Wrote. If you hurt him, I know where to hide your body."

Eddie doesn't have time to even think of a retort before she's scampering off to help Steve with the pizzas.

He might not be enrolled in college, but he has a strange feeling he's going to spend a lot of time up here from now on.

[sweetbans29]

Brother's Best Friend - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: Caitlin falls for her older brothers best friend

Warnings: Caitlin Clark lol, slowest of burns

Word Count: 6.1k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: I have had this in the back of my mind for a long while and it has been in my drafts even longer lol. So here we go!

"B! Come on, we are going to be late!" You yell from the bottom of the stairs. "Your parents are going to kill us if we miss this."

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" Blake says as he runs down the stairs. You hold out his jacket and the two of you run out the door and make your way to Carver-Hawkeye arena.

The two of you make your way through the arena and find her parents and Colin in the stands. Hugs are given all around and you take your seat in between the two brothers.

"When do you think she is going to do it?" Colin asks as he nervously rubs his hands on his pants.

"First quarter, all she is thinking about is winning," you say as you find her warming up. You see her and immediately know she is about to be a terror on the court.

You have known Caitlin since she was 5. You and Blake had become best friends in second grade and have been practically inseparable ever since. Brent and Anne absolutely adore you and Collin looks up to you and loves having you around. Oftentimes, Colin was the one who held you at the door when you were on your way out to talk about anything and everything which you later learned was his desire to be seen and how that wasn't always the easiest as the youngest.

Caitlin was just happy to have another girl around and you enjoyed being around her. You got to watch her grow up and see how amazing she truly is, both on and off the court. One of your favorite things about her is she would always ask if you would go to her games. You never missed a single one. She would find you after every single one and make sure you saw her favorite part of the game.

This game is no different, since you have graduated college it has been much easier to travel to see Cait play. Blake would join most of the time since both of you had pretty flexible schedules but even when he couldn't you would still be there for your favorite WBB player.

It is early February of your senior year, Caitlin's sophomore year. The Hawkeyes are set to play Michigan in Michigan on a Sunday afternoon. You get a text from the girl two days prior asking if you can make it and you just send her a picture of the 8 hour drive it would be if you were to go.

"Cait just asked if we could go to her Michigan game on Sunday," you tell Blake as the two of you are studying.

"That's like 8 hours away," Blake laughs and looks at his calendar.

"We've driven further," you say.

"I can't go - I will be at a conference this weekend," Blake says.

You sigh. You have never missed a game and didn't want to start now but an 8 hour drive alone would be rough.

"She'll understand if you can't," Blake says, knowing you are wrestling with the decision.

"I know she will, but I've never missed when she has asked," you say. Ever since she has started asking, which has been since you became Blake's best friend, you were there for her. She would ask you before every game all the way up to your senior year of high school. She knew that you would be busier and would have other priorities and stopped asking all together. You approached her about it and asked why she stopped asking to which she stubbornly avoided answering. After going back and forth, you finally got her to break and she confessed how of course she wants you there but knows you would be a college student now and wouldn't have as much time. You took her in your arms and held her, promising that if she asked, you would do everything in your power to be there.

You call her to tell her it isn't looking promising, especially since Blake couldn't go. She says she understands but you can tell by her voice she is bummed.

It's Cait's game day and you wake up at the ass-crack of dawn and decide to head to the game. You know you'll regret it the next week but you have a feeling that you should be there. You shoot Caitlin a 'good luck' text and begin the drive. You get to the arena right before tip-off. You make your way to your seat which just happens to be behind the Iowa bench.

The game starts and the whole time, it is a battle. Caitlin is single handedly carrying the team but it isn't enough. Even with Cait going 46-4-10 with 3 steals Iowa takes the loss to Michigan. You try to go to the lockers but security doesn't let you through.

You end up texting one of the coaches to see where the team is staying and decide that might be better. Once you get the address, you head there and wait for the team to arrive.

Kate texts you telling you what room they are in and that she will be in Gabby's room. She finishes the text with 'good luck'.

You get to the door and knock lightly. You hear shuffling but Cait doesn't open the door.

You knock again.

"Go away," you hear.

You knock again and keep knocking.

"I told you to go the fuck away-" Caitlin says as she swings the door open and stops mid sentence when she sees you.

"You still want me to go, what was it..." you think for a second, "oh - the fuck away?"

Caitlin immediately moves towards you and you take her in your arms. She nuzzles her head into the crook of your neck, like she always does and you hold her. You hold her, refusing to be the first one to let go. Eventually you guide them to her bed where you plop down and open your arms to her. She falls into them.

"You going to tell me your favorite part?" You ask her softly and you feel her shake her head no.

"Can I tell you my favorite part?" You ask and she doesn't move.

"My favorite part was when you got the second steal - you got the block on their big and came down and grabbed the steal leading to a transition 3," you say.

"It wasn't enough," she says, speaking for the first time. "I wasn't enough."

You shake your head no as if she can see.

"No Cait, you are always enough," you say as you kiss the top of her head.

Caitlin ends up falling asleep in your arms. You are quite tired yourself and are about to doze off when Kate gets back.

"Hey, I can go," you say as you begin to remove Caitlin from your person only to have her grip on you tighten.

"No, no, no," Kate says in a whisper. "Stay, she needs you to stay."

You nod and thank her. Kate gets ready for bed and turns the light off.

"Thank you for coming," Kate whispers with a yawn. "It means more to Caitlin than you know."

You let out a little hum, too tired to ask her what she means by that.

"Here we go," Blake says as the teams position themselves for tip-off.

The whole family watches intently and right out the gate Cait scores the first points for Iowa. The cheers are crazy as everyone counts down the points until CC breaks Kelsey Plum's WBB record. The next time up the floor Cait drains a 3 and Colin turns to you.

"You were right," Colin says as if you were ever wrong when it came to Cait's game. You give him a smile as Gabby grabs the defensive rebound and passes Cait the ball to bring it up the court.

"This is it," you say mostly to yourself but Blake and Colin nod.

You all watch as Caitlin gets to her usual spot and puts up a logo 3.

You hold your breath, not that you need to because you know it is going in the second it leaves her hands. It all happens in slow motion - the ball flies through the air and makes its way to a perfect swoosh.

The cheers blow the roof off the arena as Caitlin does her classic yell to the crowd. A time-out is called shortly after and you watch as everyone from the Hawkeye's bench goes to celebrate with CC.

You stand there smiling down at her, mirroring her family as you all just stand in awe of the 22 year old girl.

You know Cait doesn't care about the records - she is a lover of the game. But you know that her need to be the best has propelled her into a league of her own and that breaking this record in this particular game, against this particular team holds more weight than it would against any other. The fact that you are standing there watching Caitlin dominate the first quarter against Michigan is her taking back that loss from sophomore year. Eveny time she has played Michigan after that loss has been a statement.

The rest of the game is just as exciting as the first quarter. Caitlin puts up 49-1-13, finishing the statement with the win over Michigan.

Once the game is over, Colin is the first one of the family on the floor. You and Blake follow.

Colin goes over and practically tackles Caitlin in a bear hug.

You wait patiently as her parents and grandparents all congratulate her. She greets Blake with a hug and you know you are next. You are smiling at Blake and Cait embracing.

Caitlin's eyes land on you and her smile is wider than it was when she hit THE shot. She comes barreling into your arms, face straight into your neck as you laugh at the tickle of her breath on your skin. For being a few inches shorter than the basketball star, she always opted to be go under when hugging.

"I'm so proud of you," you whisper to her, knowing your time with her is going to be short in this moment.

You feel Caitlin's eyelashes flutter and she takes a deep inhale. You expect her to let you go but she squeezes you tighter. Your smile widens.

After another moment passes, you pinch her side.

"Go celebrate with your team, they are going to think I am hogging you," you say as she buckles and moves her torso away from you.

"Okay, okay," Cait says as she releases you, not wanting to be a victim to one of you tickling attacks. You look in her eyes and for a split second you see what you think is disappointment but it is quickly hidden.

Your head tilts a little as you examine her, giving her the silent 'what was that?' look.

Colin swings his arm around Caitlin's shoulder and points to you.

"She called it," he says and Cait smiles. "Knew you would break it in the first quarter, even down to the first 2 minutes."

You shrug.

"I know our girl," you say with a smile and a shrug.

You don’t notice but Colin does. He feels the way Cait’s breath hitches ever so slightly and her body relaxes. He is one of two people that knows that you calling Caitlin ‘our girl’ causes her heart to flutter and squeeze at the desire to be called ‘your girl’.

That’s been her one unspoken desire - YOU have been her one unspoken desire since the 7th grade. One she swears she will take to her grave but has gotten harder by the day. Colin only knows because over the years he has also developed a little crush on you - just not nearly as deep as his sister.

Caitlin’s feelings have been swallowed for so long and she has hid them so deep that it has become a second nature. In the eyes of everyone, you had been welcomed into the family and were considered the Clark’s fourth child. To everyone, you would be marrying Blake someday. You had become so integrated into their family that many would refer to Cait and you as sisters which caused her blood to boil.

“Ya, sometimes better than we know her,” Blake jokes and you all laugh.

“Hey, that’s not my fault,” you say as you put your hands up.

No, it was not your fault at all - that was all Caitlin. Since her feelings developed for you and began to rapidly increase, she did everything in her power to be known by you. There is no one on this earth that she wanted to be seen by more than you and you did, you have made her feel and believe she is seen.

Kate comes over and pulls Cait to head back to the locker with the team. The fam says some brief goodbyes as you all part ways.

As Caitlin walks away with Kate, her smile falters a little and she tries to suppress a sigh.

Kate gives her a side eye and chooses not to say anything. When the two of them are walking down the tunnel, Caitlin rounds a corner and stops. Her back presses against the wall as her hands come up to her face and she releases the biggest exhale. Kate looks around then steps in front of Caitlin.

It’s as if Kate can physically see Caitlin’s heart break.

Cait brings her hands to her chest, pulls at her jersey then puts her hands on her knees as if trying to circulate more air through her lungs. Kate rubs her back and lets the lovesick girl detach.

“It gets harder each time,” Caitlin says. “Every time I see her, she looks better and all I want to do is just watch her every move. When her arms wrap around me, I never want them to let go. To inhale her scent every moment of every day.”

“I know,” Kate says softly. Kate has been watching her best friend and teammate struggle with this since their first season together. Kate remembers when she first recommended Caitlin to talk to you about her feelings which led to Caitlin going on an hour rant about how she could never do that because you were so intertwined with her family. Kate literally had to talk Caitlin down from the ledge of believing that her family would choose you over her.

"I don't know what I am going to do once the draft happens and I am no longer near her," Caitlin says and feels herself start to panic. This is not the time nor the place to be having these thoughts.

"Hey, you just broke the NCAA WBB scoring record - I know you are feeling a lot but we are going to go out and celebrate, okay?" Kate says trying to shift Caitlin's gears into a different direction and she does.

After that game, things in Caitlin's mind went back to the way they usually are - present but not at the forefront.

The next time she feels like she is suffocating in her own skin is in the finals. Iowa vs. South Carolina and things are not looking up for the Hawkeyes.

You are standing in the crowd and you watch Caitlin. Watch her struggle on the floor but never stop trying because that's not in her nature. You watch as the realization sets in that they aren't going to take it, rather how SC will. You watch as she exits the floor for the final time and makes her way to hug all of her coaches, smiling through the tears because the whole world is watching.

Caitlin knows she should stay on the floor, knows the cameras are following her every move but she just can't. She's human and needs the room to be. Coach Bluder gives her a nod and Caitlin makes her way through the tunnel. She knows she only has a few moments before she needs to be back on the floor but she tries not to think about that. As she walks down the tunnel, out of view from prying eyes - an arm grabs her and pulls her into a room.

Without a second thought, Caitlin knows it's you.

You pull her into as the younger girl falls apart. She lets out a heartbreaking cry as you squeeze her tighter.

"I've got you," you say. "I've got you."

You give her another moment and you both know the time is limited before she needs to be back out there.

You pull her away from your body and that is the last things she wants. You bring your hands up to wipe away her tears and sooth over her headband.

"You are Caitlin Clark," you say as you rub her cheek. "And you are my Cait."

Never before had Caitlin been grateful to be crying in your presence but she is beyond grateful that her cheeks are already flushed to hide the blush creeping up her neck.

"Go be you," you say and give her one more hug.

"I love you," Caitlin says before she can stop herself.

"I love you too," you say and Caitlin knows you don't mean it in the same way that she does.

She walks out and you stand there for a moment.

You watch as Caitlin walks back out to the court and you can't help but wonder why she has chosen you. Ya, you are Blake's best friend and have known her for as long as you can remember but the way Caitlin turns to you makes you never want it to stop.

That night Caitlin did exactly as she should. She doesn't really have time to process everything before she is headed to New York for Saturday Night Live then to the draft.

After Caitlin gets drafted first, you join Caitlin and her friends in celebrating the occasion. Before you know it, you are all at a rooftop bar.

"How are you feeling?" You ask Kate Martin about being picked in the draft.

"If I had words for it, if I did I would tell you, but I am speechless," she says as she takes a sip of her drink.

You shake your head with a smile.

"Kate Martin," you say. "You are going to take over the W."

She laughs and you both cheers for that. You look around and your eyes find Caitlin.

"The world isn't ready for her," you say.

Kate watches the way that you look over at Caitlin. She has seen the look before, knows it well. Has seen it in her best friend.

"I am going to go see if she needs another one," you say, lifting your drink and giving a smile to Kate.

Even if neither Caitlin or Kate got drafted, Kate believed that seeing that look on our face while looking at Caitlin was worth it.

"Clark!" You shout over the music.

She screams and throws her arms around you causing you to laugh.

"I love you soooooo much," she says with a little hiccup.

"Okay, I think you have had enough," you say, taking the drink from her hand. "Why don't we get you back to the room, shall we?"

"I will go anywhere with you," she says with a giggle.

"Sounds like someone is a little tipsy," you say as you swing one of her arms around your shoulder. "Let's not tell your brothers about how much you have had tonight."

"Ugh, don't bring up my brothers," she says and you laugh.

"Why not?" You ask. "You're brothers are the best."

Caitlin pouts.

"I'm the best," she says with a frown.

You laugh.

"Stop laughing at me," she says with a stomp.

"I am not laughing at you," you say. You lead Caitlin to her room.

"I am the best," Caitlin says. "Not Colin....not Colin. Not Blake."

You chuckle as you guide her to the bed of her hotel room.

Cait falls on the bed and lets you remove her shoes.

She pouts again.

"Why are are pouting?" You say as you sit her up to remove her jacket.

"Because," she says.

"Because why?" You ask.

"Marry Blake," she murmurs.

"Who's marrying Blake?" You ask, slipping her arms out of the jacket.

"You," she says as her head falls forward and leans against your shoulder.

You laugh.

"Stop laughing, everyone knows," she says.

"Caitlin, I am not going to marry Blake," you say.

"That's what mom thinks," Caitlin says. "But do you want to know a secret?"

You don't say anything as you lean her back, placing her head on the pillow.

"I don't want Blake to marry you," Caitlin says as you bring the blanket up to cover her.

"I am not going to marry Blake," you say.

"Good," she says as her eyes close and she begins dozing off. You turn the light and kiss her forehead.

"Goodnight Caitlin," you say as you begin to make your exit.

Right before you leave, you hear her.

"It's good because I'm going to marry you," Caitlin says with a yawn.

You stop dead in your tracks as you look back at the now sleeping girl. You slowly walk back to the sleeping Caitlin and brush her hair from her face. You take a good look at the girl in front of you and sigh. It would be a lie to say you haven't thought about what life would look like if you were honest with yourself about how you feel. But you also know how much more it affects than just the two of you. Whenever you think about Caitlin - your mind goes back to one night your freshman year of college.

"You ever gonna put yourself out there?" Blake asks as you dig your spoon into the tub of Ben and Jerry's ice cream.

"What is that supposed to mean?" You ask, giving him a 'you are not serious right now' look.

"I'm just saying - it's our freshman year, we are out of the nest and it's the time to get to know new people," he says, grabbing the tub of ice cream from you.

"Why do I need to meet new people when I know you?" You ask, grabbing the bag of chips in his lap.

Blake laughs, "You know what I mean."

"When the time comes, I'll just marry you," you joke, knowing both of you know that would never happen.

Blake rolls his eyes.

"No," he says and you laugh.

"Not happening," Blake says and you shake your head. "Not me or the sibs."

"What? You don't want me marrying Caitlin?" You joke and take the ice cream back.

"Absolutely not," Blake says laughing.

You lean down and kiss the top of her head, knowing no matter what you feel you would never act.

The next few months things stay the same. You don't bring up that night and never plan to. You try to give Caitlin a little more space which proves to be harder than you expected considering she calls you multiple times a week. At the beginning you tried to not answer every one but that led to Cait calling twice as much then drilling you with questions as to why you didn't answer.

You have been able to make most of her games so far, even when she hasn't asked. How could you not? She only has one rookie season.

You are now in Phoenix, AZ for the W's All-Star weekend. It's Blake, Colin and yourself, which has been quite interesting considering Caitlin only provided you all with one court-side ticket. She handed it directly to you, leaving Colin butt-hurt.

Now it is you court-side watching Caitlin and her team taking on the 2024 Olympic team. She has run over to you 3 times in the first half and you keep shooing her away.

"Did you see that last assist?'" She says after jogging up to you and you just push her away and roll your eyes.

"Cait, I am watching - now go play," you say, feeling like you are talking to a child.

She smiles at you and sprints to guard Jewel. When half time hits she starts to run your way when the whole team is heading to the locker and you just point to where her team is headed and she slows her skip to a stop, rolls her eyes and drastically makes her way back to the tunnel causing you to laugh.

When the team comes back out for their halftime warm-ups, Caitlin comes right over to you. As she does, she passes the ball she has to you.

You raise your eyebrows at the girl.

"Spin it," she says.

"Why?" You ask.

"Because I want to see it," She says like the two of you back in her backyard.

"Cait-" you start but she cuts you off.

"Come on, pleaseeee," she whines, causing you to yet again roll your eyes.

You flick the ball up and begin to spin it on your finger, keeping it going with a few taps. Caitlin smiles and knocks it off your finger, running back to the team.

"She seems like a handful," the woman next to you says as you sit back down.

"She sure is," you laugh.

"How long have the two of you been together?" The woman asks.

"Oh no, we aren't together," you say. The woman just nods with a slight smile.

"Could have fooled me, dear," she says. "And everyone in this building."

You take a deep breath and try to laugh off the woman's words.

You try to not be a distraction for the rest of the game but Cait keeps coming over to you, trying to start random conversations and you keep pushing her away. At one point, you are pushing her back on the court as she is actively fighting against you and Ab has to come over and grab her to get her back in the game.

At the end of the game, you stand and start looking for the Clark boys as Caitlin makes her way over, yet again.

She stands in front of you waiting for you post-game hug but you don't make a move.

"Hug?" She asks.

"I don't think you deserve a hug," you say honestly.

"What? Why?" Her tone defensive. "We won."

"Caitlin, you were over here like 20 times during the game - you've had more than enough me time," you say.

"Still want a hug," she pouts as Blake and Colin walk up.

"Great job CC," Colin says, giving her a hug.

"She could have played better," you say with a joking tone.

"Hey!" She yells and goes to pinch you but you dodge.

Blake stands and observes the interactions. He has been observing Cait around you for a while now and has begun to see what Cait has been hiding for years now.

"Are we getting food or are you too busy for us now?" Colin asks jokingly.

"Never too busy for you, twerp," she says as she ruffles his hair.

The four of you grab take out and head back to your room to enjoy food and each other's company. Once everyone is full and tired, the Clark siblings all head back to their rooms.

Blake stops Caitlin before she heads to her room. Caitlin looks at her brother.

He hesitates but finally speaks.

"How long?" Blake asks. Caitlin's heart speeds up.

"What are you talking about B?" Cait asks, knowing exactly what he is asking.

"How long?" He says more firmly now.

Caitlin looks down at the ground. After a few moments of silence, she lets out a little laugh.

"For as long as I can remember," Cait says, still not looking in her brother's eyes.

Blake processes what he has just been told and logs it with what he has been slowly observing with you around his little sister. He takes his time to really think.

Caitlin stands there, dying in his silence.

"Say something," she says.

Blake continues to take his time, thoroughly thinking through what he is about to say.

"I can't-" Blake begins but Caitlin stops him.

"This isn't just some crush. It isn't something that I haven't completely thought through myself," Caitlin says. "This is a love that has burned inside of me for years and at no point has it dulled or died. It isn't a phase. I love her, with every fiber of my being and it terrifies me. She is so intertwined in our family that I have spent countless nights thinking through every scenario of what could go wrong. She is your best friend. This would change so much, but I can't help but think how much more this can be for all of us."

Caitlin takes a deep breath, then holds it waiting to see what her big brother says.

Blake removes his glasses and rubs his eyes and Caitlin can already feel her heart breaking at his soon-to-be response.

"I'm sorry," Caitlin says quietly which causes Blake to immediately shake his head no.

"Don't say sorry," Blake says. "Never apologize for your feelings."

Caitlin can feel tears forming on the brim of her eyes. Blake closes his eyes.

"I just don't know what would happen if either of you get hurt," he says.

"I won't hurt her," Cait says in a heartbeat. "And if she hurts me, I probably deserve it."

"Okay," Blake finally says.

"Okay?" Caitlin asks, not willing to let her hopes rise just yet.

"Okay," Blake says again. "But she is still MY best friend."

Caitlin nods rapidly.

"So, how are you going to tell her?" Blake asks.

"I haven't thought that far," Caitlin says honestly.

Blake lets out a laugh.

"Well I am not going to help you there," Blake says.

"What? Why not?" Caitlin says.

"Because regardless of what you do, she is going to love it," Blake says. Blake has watched you turn down every person to ask you out over the years. He has seen how your interest is never as invested as those who are invested in you and how you would run through fire for his little sister.

Caitlin lights up at hearing those words. The two of them part and Cait begins to think through how she is going to tell you just how much she loves you.

Cait wants to do it immediately but going into olympic break knows there is no real reason for her to ask you to come down to Indiana.

It is a month after her conversation with Blake that she finally sees you again. She asks if you will go to her game against the Sky and you don't hesitate to say yes.

Per usual, you watch as Caitlin dominates leading the Fever to another win on the season.

At the end of the game you wait for her but notice she is taking longer than usual. The arena clears out and you wonder if you should just head back and meet Cait in her hotel but that is not your normal. You check your phone to find no new messages.

After about 20 more minutes and a practically empty arena, you grab your things and are about to head out when you see a familiar face running your way.

"There she is," you say with a smile.

Caitlin immediately finds her place in your arms as she nuzzles her face in your neck. You laugh as her breath tickles your neck. you hold her as you rock the both of you back and forth.

"Proud of you C," you say expecting her to release you but she doesn't. She stands there in your arms and you let her.

After a few minutes, you speak again.

"Ready for food?" You ask. She nods and you smile.

"Let's go," you say.

You guys grab food and head back to her hotel room. You both sit on different beds while you eat and watch a show. Once the food has been eaten, she finds her way in the bed you are in.

Caitlin is laying with her head in your lap as you play with her hair - not an abnormal position for the two of you.

There is an overwhelming sense of comfort that settles between the two of you.

You feel Caitlin shift but are too into the show that you don't notice her looking up at you now.

Cait watches you as she brings her hand up to grab the one that is running through her hair. She begins fiddling with your fingers, like she does with her own when she is overthinking.

"What's running through that little brain of yours?" You say, eyes still on the screen.

"My brain is not small," she retorts and you finally look down at her. You see how she is looking at you and feel little flurries in your stomach.

"I didn't say small, I said little," you say.

"That's the same thing," Cait says.

"You are avoiding the question," you say and Caitlin makes a move to sit up. She sits right in front of you and you give her a slight smile.

You can see the gears of her head turning as her fingers fiddle with themselves. You can tell she is beyond nervous.

Your hand comes to stop hers as you bring them onto your lap, rubbing your thumb along the back of her hand. She sighs and closes her eyes, trying to work up the courage to say what she wants to.

Your mind is going a mile a minute but is hiding it much better than she is. She is taking longer than you want and you make the decision to take the lead.

Without a second thought, you bring your hand to her neck and pull her into you - lips meeting in the middle. Cait lets out a little gasp. Once she realizes what is happening, she leans further into you never wanting to leave this moment.

You smile into the kiss and you feel her do the same.

You pull away and a little whine escapes Cait's lips causing you to chuckle.

"Don't laugh at me," she mumbles as she leans her head into your shoulder, a blush overtaking her face. She can't believe how every nerve in her body is on fire from a single kiss.

"That was really cute," you say and you bring you hand to her head, lifting her so you can look her in the eyes.

She looks in your eyes then down to your lips, leaning in to kiss you again. You let her take the lead as she moves her lips against yours. Your hands finding their way to your waist, squeezing them and guiding her to straddle you. She is intoxicated by you and can't believe she has waited this long to have a taste.

After a few more moments, you put your hand on her chest and push her away. It is your turn to rest your head on her shoulder as you steady your breath.

"Marry me," Caitlin states and you let out a hearty laugh, lifting your head to look at her only to find she is semi-serious.

"I'm serious," she says as she brings her hand to cup your face.

Your eyebrows furrow and you just look at her.

"Caitlin, I can't-" you begin but she stops you, just like she stopped Blake.

"Blake knows," she blurts out. "He knows I'm in love with you and he didn't kill me. He knows and it is okay, he is okay."

Your heart is full at hearing her say she is in love with you.

"You should have lead with that and not 'marry me'," you say, shaking your head trying to hide a smile.

"Well it is going to happen someday, so why not today?" Caitlin says as if it is the most obvious thing in the world.

"What if I say no?" You counter.

Caitlin laughs.

"When is the last time you have said no to me?" She asks and you have to think.

She brings her forehead to yours, "You, my love, have never said no to me."

"Well there is a first time for everything," you say with a shrug.

"You are not going to say no to me," she says.

"I don't know why we are talking about marriage when we haven't even been on a date," you say.

"Fine, we can go on a date and then we can get married," she says and you roll your eyes.

"Caitlin Clark, you are unbelievable."

AN: I needed to get this out. Let me know what you think! And as always, thank you for your love and support 🤍

[bakugoushotwife]

a/n: omg heyyy i make my grand return with my humble offering to @ohkento 's reddit theme collab!! i also have a piece for shouto coming up next, but here is the first one!! i took a while off after kinktober so if this is bad....lie to me!

warnings: dark content. nsfw. no minors. yandere theme gojo, no physical harm to reader, baby trapping, threats (not to reader), female reader, breeding, pentration, oral (fem!receiving), reader is kinda dumb lol.

summary: STORYTIME: I (28M) CAN'T STOP BREEDING MY GIRL BEST FRIEND (28F)!! it's a serious problem...i'm really reaching my breaking point here. i've been in love with this chick since high school and she keeps chasing other guys...but fucking me when the dates go wrong, help!

it’s been his dirty little secret since his years at tokyo tech. you’ve always been a looker, never were you short on attention from lesser men that aren’t worth your time—and yes, that includes when geto crushed on you all through the second year of school. but they never were quite what you were looking for, and every night of passion or attempt at a meaningful connection always ended the same—dialing up your closest confidant satoru to come console you and stuff your cunt full and wipe your tears–to make it better, like best friends do. 

satoru was all too aware of your little predicament, because he had struggled with the same issues–except he realized his fate years ago and was determined to have it. you are his and his alone, no matter how many scrubs that try to take you from him. if only you would open your eyes. you were obviously hopelessly in love with him, of course—that’s why no one could compare! and that’s why you always turned your teary eyes and pretty pussy to him after yet another date gone wrong. he knew he was the only cure, and he’s given up on hoping you’d see the truth for yourself. 

he tried to play the patience card, licking your tears off your face as he pounds his love into you, telling you that you’re worth so much more than those guys you keep letting break your heart. he tried being the nice guy that holds you after yet another promising prospect never texts you back–buying you dinner and bouncing you on his cock until you were crying from pleasure instead of heartbreak. each time, he buried his load in your womb until it was spilling out around him—hoping to give you no other choice but to pack your bags and move onto his estate to further the gojo clan with the very man at the head of it, but it seems your ovaries were just as stubborn as you are. he didn’t know how much more of this he could stomach—just waiting to be your knight in shining armor while laying in bed at night, staring at the pictures of you, both lewd and cute alike while wondering just how long it would take to have you laying beside him in his bed instead of the pixels on his phone screen. 

he’s had enough. it’s clear his plan isn’t working as designed. you must be on birth control—which is both irritating yet complimentary to him. of course you wouldn’t let these bums knock you up. is it insulting that this applies to his seed too? of course, but then again the whole dynamic was rather insulting wasn’t it? fucking other men and crying to him about it when they aren’t the perfect man for you. no shit—no man will ever know you like he does. none of them could ever compete with the life he could give you if you would just face the music. he doesn’t get it either. why bother? why look elsewhere? obviously you’re attracted to each other—so why won’t you make the next natural jump and stop it with the drama-packed weekly bachelorette episodes?

that’s okay. it’s really fine. satoru is such a good friend that he’ll help you, like he always does. he would simply help you to the conclusion that he wants and then everything can proceed according to plan! it shouldn’t be too difficult anyway, you’ll be calling any moment now! you had a date with yet another sure disappointment that gojo knows will desert you as soon as the date is finished. he’ll be dry and boring after the promising conversations you had in the days leading up to the date—you’ll be confused yet again—and the guy won’t pay either, set for split-bill city. gojo knows all of this because he’s ensured that’s what happens, of course! and this is the thirty-sixth man he’s had to pay off to show up to the date and forget about you. a price he’s more than willing to pay no matter how high, though it’s definitely added up over the years. and you know what—now that he thinks of it, none of them deserve you because their weak nature and corrupt morals. he’s been proven right every time, each one of these bottom feeders would take the money no questions asked—maybe that was due to his threats of horrific death if they so much as answered a text message from you again, but who could be sure? 

this one was especially easy to pay off, too. he didn’t even think twice about taking the money. it almost makes gojo mad. he clearly wasn’t heartbroken to walk away from you, and god you deserved so much better. you deserve a man that is willing to pay off any and every suitor that comes into your life just to make you his. you deserve a man so crazy about you he can hardly recognize himself. you deserve…well, him. he’s devoted himself to you for over a decade and it’s time for that to pay off.

your unique ringtone gets him out of his own head to answer, and of course, you’re crying and asking him to come over. pretty girls like you never learn, huh? that’s all forgiven though, as he is a teacher and it’s his passion to help you understand. 

“of course sugar. i’ll be right over. mhm–don’t mention it. that’s what friends are for.” he hums to you over his end of the phone, picking up his car keys to make it to you in record time. you’re your same beautiful self as you answer the door and welcome him inside, though he can see the tear tracks staining your face. it makes him pout a little at the sight no matter how used to it he is. he hates that you let these cretins upset you like this. 

“hey baby.” he pouts sympathetically with you, ducking under your arm to gaze around your familiar living room for any signs of a man he hadn’t yet heard about. he exhales a deep sigh when he finds none. he’s got his hands in his pockets, lips tightened in a knowing grimace. “so what was it this time? no—let me guess: split the bill and then he let you walk home in this weather?” 

you close the door after he’s entered with a heavy sigh. your bleary eyes fix on your hand still clasped around the doorknob, “yeah.” you tug your lip between your teeth and turn to face him. you didn’t have to answer him, for he already knew. it was borderline routine at this point and you were already embarrassed enough. you draw your arms around yourself to feel your own warmth, shaking your head. what was wrong with you? you used to be pined after, wanted—and now you couldn’t even get non-sorcerers to call you back. you haven’t had a second date in years, nor had an orgasm that wasn’t satoru’s handiwork. but even he didn’t want you permanently. you were a good friend and an even better fuck, that’s all. you knew it was pointless to yearn for him, sure he felt nothing other than his ever-present sense of duty and loyalty every-time he took your pain away–no matter the lies that poured out of his saccharine lips to do so. your sad eyes fix on his face, letting your plump bottom lip bounce out from your teeth’s trap. he smirks softly, cock rising because it knows exactly what that look means. 

but unfortunately for you, he won’t just hold you in his arms and promise that you’re worth so much more than you let yourself believe. tonight, he’s going to take what’s rightfully his—and his plan is already working beautifully. you never look away as you walk from the door to him, bracing your tiny and ineffectual hands on his chest. “what’s wrong with me, sato?” you pout, batting your long lashes up at him. his heart could stop just from that look alone. the comfort of his large hands covering yours soothes you already, making the tension drop from your shoulders. 

“you’re naive.” he answers, eyes as bright as ever as they glow like fireflies in your living room. if you were going just by the expression on his face, you’d think he said something kind or even funny, the way he grins softly and blinks his white lashes down at you in wait of your reply. you’re sure you misheard—every other time you asked this question he always said, “maybe you’re just too pretty, huh? ever thought of that, sugarplum?” 

“huh?” you tilt your head to one side, watching his expression shift to amusement. “naive? wh-what do you mean by that?” 

“well, if you weren’t so naive, you’d know, now wouldn’t you?” he pokes his tongue between his teeth, tucking his hands behind his back while you still lean helplessly against him. he likes feeling the weight of your body on his, and he’ll like it even more when he knows it’s a permanent thing. “you’re on birth control.” he states, and your confusion sets in even deeper. your brows furrow, but you nod. 

“yeah? what about that makes me naive?” you posit, used to his antics for the most part. you’ve been around him far too long to mistake his bluntness as an attack to you, even if it stings just a touch. though you did ask, and you have used him as your sexual relief and shoulder to cry on for years now. maybe he’s fed up with lying to save your feelings. 

he looks around for a second, humming. “where is it?” 

you also know better than to question him. if he’s asking you these questions it has to be for a reason—and you don’t have to understand him in the moment. just do what you’ve always done and trust him, support him on and off the battlefield–and never hesitate. it could be the difference between life and death. you learned that on missions together years ago. 

“in my nightstand?” you tilt your head to the other side. he has to admit your astonishment is adorable. he smiles down at you, cupping your cheek lightly. his fingers are so long that his thumb rests on the corner of your lips, fingertips brushing back your hair. 

“go get it for me.” he says as if he asked you to pass him the remote. you narrow your eyes to really study him—and then you see it. the teeming rage, the simmering crazy behind his eyes as they look at you. he is the most powerful man in the world, even if you were scared, there was nothing you could do but obey. but you trust him. and you nod. you turn to pad off to your bedroom and the clicks of his expensive boots follow. you’re used to the butterflies tickling your stomach as you lead him to bed, but you know something’s different this time. you feel like you’ll puke butterflies. but nonetheless, you pull the drawer of your nightstand open and fetch the little foil pack out of it, only a few pills missing from this month’s prescription. you turn to face him with it, mind racing on what he could possibly be doing. knowing him, he’s toying with you–trying to make you as nervous as possible and all this worrying is for no good reason. 

he sits at the edge of your bed, seemingly watching you with interest. he’s happy that you’re humoring him, that’s for sure. not even the faintest hint of protest. maybe you’re not as naive as he thought. in fact, your effortless obedience has his the crotch of his loose hakama’s tightening quickly. your heart jumps in your throat at the sight of him as it usually does—satoru gojo is far too beautiful to be in your house, supposedly telling you why you couldn’t keep a man. the black compression shirt was nearly criminal when it was wrapped around his perfect body. 

“good girl. now flush ‘em down the toilet for me.” he beams, blinding white teeth baring to smile at you. it was a simple request, really. he needed you to stop taking that poison and to stop entertaining the idea of other men. 

“why?” you swallow harshly, voicing your underlying suspicion. 

“don’t you trust me, baby?” he replies with a quickness, tilting his head to mirror yours. he’s doing well to keep himself together–you don’t understand his love for you yet, but he’ll take care of that. he’s a teacher, remember? “that stuff’s not good for you.” 

you hum. the side effects have been brutal, but you’re hardly in the spot for a baby. you can’t even get a boyfriend, much less a baby daddy. “yeah…i know. sucks taking it. guess i could get an iud or something instead.” you think aloud, voice becoming distant as you turn your back to him and dump your pills in the bathroom attached to your small room. you really undersell yourself. you could have been his bride eight years or so ago and been living large. but he’s going to fix it now. his jaw clenches at that declaration, and you feel him watching you the entire time—the doorway a straight shot from the spot he sat in on your bed. 

“no.” he says simply, the lightheartedness gone abruptly. it sends a shiver down your spine, makes your brain alert to the changes within him as he stands and cages you into the bathroom, broad arms stretching to block off the doorway. 

no? he doesn’t want you to protect yourself in any way? that seems a little ridiculous, but maybe he had a good reason. “satoru…i can’t get pregnant right now.” 

“why not?” he asks, looking over your little body nearly trembling from the darkness of his cursed energy growing more oppressive, nearly sucking the air out of the room. your heart pounds, more confused than you were at the start. 

“because i’m…single?” you try carefully, not sure exactly what you were dealing with here. satoru has always been so happy-go-lucky, even when he shouldn’t be. you remember begging him to talk out his stress so that he didn’t explode right after suguru left. so this anger you see set in his features shocks you, his bright and clear sky-colored eyes are clouded and murky, more cerulean than you’ve seen before. his brow is set and you can see the muscles twitching in his jaw. but he’s still smiling, and that for whatever reason is still real. 

“there’s that naivety again, princess.” he licks his teeth, shifting his weight from foot to foot. you look like a deer in the headlights, and he’s giddy at the rush that gives him. you’re finally in his grasp. “you’ve never been single. not since hmmm let’s see, march fifteenth, 2006.” he grins at you–”which makes all this dating real offensive, sweetheart.” 

you want to laugh, but decide against it considering his unpredictability. you shake your head instead, backing yourself to the wall. “what on earth are you talking about? we’re friends–”

“friends that fuck!” he laughs a strained snicker, straightening his posture. “and make sweet hot love, of course. friends that cuddle on the couch and have sleepovers. come on. we’re both adults, don’t insult me. you love me! which is great, because i love you too. i love you so much i’ve made sure that no one could steal you from me.” 

your brows must reach your hairline at that. “stop, satoru. don’t say that! you can’t mean it–fuck, you’re supposed to be married to a kamo or zen’in girl so you can keep making powerful gojo’s right? isn’t that what you always said in school?” 

“you’d give me powerful gojo’s.” he smirks, breaking the barrier of the bathroom’s threshold by stepping closer to you, leaning down to be on face level. “i was only trying to make you jealous sugar! just like this whole stunt you’ve been pullin’, dating around to try to find someone that makes you feel like i do? tch, hahahaha—it’s impossible!! just stop it, be mine and be happy like you should be.” he grasps your chin with a surprising gentleness given his unhinged and maniacal laughter, smiling down at you with something you recognize as his power-trip going off the rails—but. 

but you’d be lying if you said you were scared. he’s declaring his love for you in the most profound way possible, however crazy it–and he–may be. and you’d be lying if you said he didn’t absolutely see right through you. he has the six eyes after all, you should have known he knew what you were trying to do. you were trying to numb the pain of never being his…but you were actually manufacturing that whole scenario. you’re the only girl he’s ever seen, and it’s clear from the desperation mixed in with the insanity—he needs you. 

you reach back and flush the toilet, letting the little white pills circle the bowl and disappear entirely. satoru gojo has always been insane. you’ve seen it firsthand on many missions and battles against curses and sorcerers alike. it just surprised you to see him turn that look upon you–but now you know it was just to get your attention. 

though you don’t doubt what he’s capable of, you have no intention of pushing him to find out.

his eyes go from crazy to ravenous in seconds. you’ve accepted his proposal with hardly any effort and he intends to show you the difference between his sweet hookups and his passionate need to claim the woman of his dreams. 

“so you…scared off all those guys?” you ask, raising a brow as your face still rests in his clutches. he swipes his thumb over your bottom lip, nodding vigorously. 

“sure did, princess. i was trying to let you figure it out on your own…” he sighs, brushing your hair back behind your ears as his eyes scan over your body again. he needs to feel you. “but you’re not a quick learner, hence why i’m on plan b.” he winks, scooping you over his shoulder moments later. he puts you on your bed, the short walk made shorter by his teleportation. he’s just too impatient, brain swelling with the flashing images of you in traditional wedding attire and round with his heir. it all feels within reach now, and he has to try it out now. “gonna show you how bad i love you–you’ll never go anywhere else.” he mutters, lanky frame swallowing up your body, hips pinning yours to the bed beneath you. “you’re gonna give me a gojo and you’re gonna look so fucking good doing it.” he mutters, lips attaching to your neck reminiscent of the way they have a million times. though this time, there’s intention behind it—or well. this time you’re aware of the intention behind it. 

in all your times together, his dirty talk has been contained to praising your body and how good you feel to him. his incantations to knock you up has your heart beating funny and wetness pooling between your legs. you make a soft gasp sound for him, elongating your neck to let him leave real marks of possession where you’ve previously resisted. your body writhes and twists under his as his teeth knick and nip bruises into your skin. he’d spell his own name with them if he could, even a ring and a baby wasn’t enough in his eyes. he needs the world to know you’re his, that you’ll always be by his side, that you were born to be his. 

“that pesky birth control’s gonna have to wear off though–so we have time to get married before you get pregnant–if that matters to you.” he moans at the idea, hands sliding under your top to push it over your head. his mouth moves to suck the swells of your tits once they’re exposed to him, humming out his satisfaction at the warm skin. your head digs back into the mattress—mind absolutely drunk on his affection and devotion. it’s all you’ve ever wanted and now it’s right here, and from the man you’ve always wished you could have—how could you ever deny him again? 

your hands pull at the fabric on his back, hips bucking up for a source of friction. he breaks away from marking up your chest to bare his to you, throwing his t-shirt into some corner of your room to be forgotten about until tomorrow. this wouldn’t be your room much longer anyway–you’ll be moved into the estate within the next two days, he wouldn’t be able to live without you now. then he’s pushing you up towards the headboard, ripping off your lounge shorts to reveal those cute panties he knows you wear when you’re trying to impress him. color him fucking thrilled at your puffy pussy lips indenting the fabric around them, making him groan at the sight. he thumbs at your clit through the cotton, sparkling eyes flickering between the growing wet spot in your panties and the adorable scrunches of your nose and the pinch of your brow from the pleasure he’s dishing out before he’s even really touching you. you’re so cute he can’t pace himself, needing to consecrate your importance to him in the best way he knows how. 

you help him get you out of your underwear, shamelessly spreading for him after hundreds of rendezvous—you’ve lost your shyness and he loves it, loves seeing your neediness for him in the glaze of your pretty doe eyes and the way you swing your hips around to beg for his attention. “tell me you love me.” he hums, nosing apart your pussy lips. his cock throbs at the scent, and you feel goosebumps break out across your skin at his command. 

“you’re the one for me, sato. i love you.” you whisper so intimately he can feels his cursed energy pulsing like the rest of him. he groans, submerging his face in your cunt with a genuine pleasure you’ve only seen from him. he loves eating you out, loves the taste of you on his tongue—loves how your noises only rile him into fucking the bed, whining and grunting with his own neediness that he could only unleash once he’s properly readied you for it. 

“you taste so fucking good baby…so sweet down my throat. get loud, i don’t care it’s an apartment. you’ll be moving out soon anyway.” he smirks, latching onto your clit to make your legs jolt like they always do. it makes him giggle every time, and the vibrations feel even better against your sensitive bundle. he rolls it around his tongue, letting his index finger explore the wetness he’s helping you create. he pokes into your entrance, knowing how violently you craved something inside. his thoughts are confirmed by the way you clench around the digit, whining and bucking into it for more. he’s more than happy to oblige, finger fucking you with two long and thick fingers while his tongue works overtime on your clit. he loves watching you at this part, enamored by your face as your hips involuntarily jump from the bed, smacking your clit into his nose instead of his skilled tongue. 

your entire body is warm, jerking like you’re receiving electrical shocks from the pleasure satoru reigns down, gasping and sputtering on the edge of orgasm just a few minutes after he started. it’s always like this with him–though this time was special because you knew your life was changing before your very eyes—that satoru’s energy was growing so rapidly because he’s letting go of all kinds of stress and pent up frustration and anger. “please—wanna cum please sato–”

“daddy. i’m daddy now. ask daddy nicely.” he chuckles as he leans his head against his free hand, curling his fingers into the spot he knows so well just to watch your mouth drop and eyes widen in absolute blissful shock. you nod–brain fuzzy from his constant teasing and his new nickname. 

“daddy!! yes—daddy! please, oh my god—daddy let me cum!” you sound so good when you say it–it’s all he ever wants to hear for the rest of his life. he can’t wait for you to make him a real daddy. 

“oh missus gojo can do anything she wants.” he coos as if he didn’t make you expressly beg for permission, lowering his face to your cunt again with precise licks, shoving your hood back to absolutely abuse your sensitivity. your legs develop a mind of their own and you’re spiraling over the edge before you can understand what he’s doing. floating balls of color cover your vision and you scream his name just as loud as he wanted. he grins in satisfaction, hands resting on your knees so he can push himself forward for a sloppy kiss; slick covered lips sliding against yours so you could taste your own essence via his tongue shoving its way in your mouth with a hearty moan. you match his eagerness, making out with satoru with more passion than ever before–because you both have the security of knowing it’s real this time. he maneuvers his hips until his leaky tip catches on your hole, his breath shaky as before he shoves in like he always does. you squeeze him so tight it’s not hard to believe why he lost his fucking mind over this pussy. he truly would do anything to make you his, thank god you didn’t put up a fight. 

“fuuuuck–” he whines a little, finding it nearly impossible to even move in the first place. you feel the burn of his fat and lengthy shaft parting your walls like they routinely do, mouth dropped wide open in pleasure. satoru hovers inches away from your face, so close that the ends of his hair tickle your forehead as he picks your legs up—holding you by the back of the ankles before he sets a brutal pace. his nuts clap into your ass from the way he moves, length curving just right to fill you to the brim. he doesn’t even have to try all that hard to bottom out against your cervix, finding the way you moan and twitch so adorable. “this is why you have to be my wife—i need you for life, sweetheart.” 

your eyes widen at that declaration–though you already realized that satoru would never let you out of his clutches again. you knew he would marry you as quickly as possible based off of his desire to also knock you up as quickly as possible—but hearing him call you that, first missus gojo and now his wife, it all felt so real. his cock slamming into you only drilled it in further, his eyes glowing brighter than you’ve ever seen. the air also grows its own electric field, suffocating and thrilling all at the same time. your eyes are glued to him, entranced by the feral look on his face. you try to hold onto him, but he’s moving so punishingly you can’t even get your hands to work, mind and body on cloud nine. “you’re so beautiful. i’ve been in love…with—you–for years now.” he says in between deep breaths, trying to contain all his focus into drilling you unconscious. 

you shudder, feeling that was completely in the realm of possibility. his balls ache, the need to breed you just as heavy as all the other times you’ve come to him to clean up every mess of yours ever since he’s known you, the need to make you his in a way no one else would be allowed to—it’s carnal. he can’t stop until you’re full of his seed and it takes. he needs to see your breasts heavy with milk to feed his baby from. he needs to see you struggle with the weight of your belly so he can urge you to rest and let him serve you like you should be. he needs to see what the combination of your love looks like; what these last ten years of hard work would become. he’s painting your insides white and still pumping just as fast as before, watching your face tick and jerk with the pleasure you’re experiencing as you tip off of your own peak. he grins, shoving that cum as deep as it will go. he stops when he knows your body can’t take anymore, cuddling you to his chest until you fall asleep safe and sound. he has the whole world in his hands, and that’s never been enough. now he can sleep with a genuine smile on his face. he knows your body will regulate in a few months off the birth control—but that doesn’t mean he can’t get plenty of practice until then. after all, he has a problem! he has to breed his pretty little girl best friend turned future wife. 

[eraserbread]

𝘪 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙛𝙚 part 1 masterlist, listen, nanami tag

god help me be a good wife, cause he needs me even when he's not right, he still needs me

a/n: thank u guys for loving my nanami as much as I do <3 he's been my fav character to crack, per se, so I hope this pretty canon n correct for all of u :)) writing and designing this short story I'm calling good wife was so meaningful to me. i'd love to bring u some comfort during these trying times. enjoy x cw: 18+ suggestive themes and explicit content

♫ - turning page - sleeping at last

When Nanami Kento asked you to marry him, you hesitated. 

You two met in the odd space between high school and the thought of university, where Nanami left sorcery and threw himself into salary work to keep his head clear. He only goes out once a week to drink his guilt away and feel normal. It’s there, at dinner with co-workers, that he meets you — a mutual friend of his desk mate who had a little too much to drink one night.

He didn’t think much of you at first, just a chatty little thing that clung to his co-worker as if you couldn’t bear being in this atmosphere alone. He understands – it’s not easy to slip into a skin that wasn’t your own. That's why he only tries this once a week, just so he doesn’t go crazy, alone in his head. 

Years of being your acquaintance were easy enough, especially when he worked more than he lived. After ten to twelve hour days, he’d disappear under his covers, bought with the money he hoarded, whispering to himself that life always carries reason. It’s hard to see when you’re self-isolating, but Kento knew himself well, right? 

Then, something shifted when twenty-year-old Nanami finally admitted to himself that this loneliness would send him to an early grave. It’s hard having self-control that swallows you whole because then you can’t admit anything to yourself. Except when he would look in the mirror and notice his muscles starting to turn into skin and bone. That night, for dinner, he ate a convenience store takoyaki and slept for three hours. 

The next morning, he forged plans to see his desk-mate, mentioning your name lightly in conversation. He wasn’t completely sure of himself, so he had to talk to you again. 

That night, he fell in love with your shimmering reflection in the shitty bar lighting. You were wearing a little blue dress with a jacket three sizes too big, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. It’s the first real feeling he’s felt that wasn’t grief – constant grief. Grieving everything. 

You were a sanctuary. 

That’s why he could only wait three years of loving you before he proposes to you at your favorite coffee shop. It’s an every-week tradition – you’d leave your part-time job and catch the bus to wherever you two spoke about the night prior. It’s usually coffee or bakeries, hardly museums and galleries. He likes talking to you, you’re the first person whose opinions he honored. 

All he does is place a ring between you when he does, amber eyes shadowed as he watches the reflections in his coffee cup. You’re still talking about baseless drama with a co-worker and their partner, and Kento nods along as long as he needs to before clearing his throat. 

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, recently.” He cuts you off, tucking his bangs back behind his ear. He’s doing almost everything to not look you in the eyes until you notice. “And I realize that I would be a dead man if I didn’t have your love.” 

You take it as a joke, too busy getting lost in the shy glimmer in his eyes as he speaks. “Not true.” 

“No, it’s true.” Kento’s talking about it all – your wakeup calls, the food you prepare for him, his clothes you’ve tended. It’s truly like you’re a miracle worker, and he’s just your peer. He loves you so much for everything you do for him, and you do it because he’s so thankful. “And I love you more than I can ever show, so I want to marry you. See?” 

You look down at the table past your mugs, dirty plates, and napkins. Next to the scone you’ve been sharing, a delicate diamond ring nudges from Kento’s fingers. 

You hesitate, looking from the ring to his shadowed gaze. 

“Ken, we’re only twenty-three.” 

Exactly one week later, holding his hand through a street festival, you say yes. After that coffee shop Sunday, you couldn’t give him a straight answer, so he told you to keep the ring until you figured it out. You slept with it for a week, gauged strangers' reactions to it in public, and kept it on while you washed your hands. It felt good, like having a tattoo of him on your finger. You found yourself thinking about him and his broad shoulders and gentle touch every time you glanced at it, and you never wanted that to go away. 

Now, as he’s holding your hand, he’s tracing his fingers across the small diamond, admiring the fact that you kept it on. Deep down, he knows you’ll say yes because you love him, but it doesn’t help that Nanami carries a fair amount of relationship insecurity. He’s terrified he’s not reciprocating your acts of service enough, but you know him. You know that his love language is just touching you – being with you like this. Early breakfast dates and falling asleep on your shoulder during movie night. 

You don’t want him to doubt himself anymore, so you give him an answer. “I’ll marry you.” 

Somewhere buried deep in his soft expression, you see relief wash over his shoulders. He cracks a smile. “You have no idea just how happy that makes me.” 

Spring is in full bloom on either side of the trail you’re walking. Commoners walk about, children laugh, and lovers love. You vow to remember this moment – the way the sunset bounces off his ivory skin and the warmth of his sweet smile. His young features glow when he’s around you, catching onto all of your tiny movements. It’s a love so pure and real, you never wanted it to fade away. And it never will because once you come to terms with your answer, you come to terms with never loving another. Kento makes it so easy, he’s everything you could ever possibly need in the perfect lover. It’s selfish, but you will do anything to keep his love for the rest of your life. It’s safe to say you’d even let pieces of yourself fall by the wayside just to keep him a little closer. 

Kento pulls you to the side of the trail, out of the way so people can walk without disturbing the moment he wants to pull you in. It’s under a maple tree that he guides your chin with his finger, carrying you through a sweet, long kiss. As the sunset dips, the wind picks up, nearly blowing the cabbie hat from your head. Of course, Ken notices, because he closes his hand over it, keeping the hat steady as he deepens the kiss. 

That night, you take Nanami dancing, but he just stands to the side with a smile on his face as you twirl across the dance floor, breaking in the shoes he bought you. The crowd was sparse at this bar, but it just gave you more room to show off to your fiancé. Being around him made you fearless and on top of the world, so you let him see it. You let him hear the joyous ease in your tone as you beg him to join you. You tease him for his shyness, but he knows it’s only a heat-of-the-moment thing. You’re never serious unless you’re telling him how much you love him. 

When you toss your hat his way, he catches it and dangles it from his long pointer finger. You’re a giggling, tipsy mess from drinks he bought and the love he gives, taking your leather black hat and placing it directly over his long hair. His face goes crimson, blushing even harder when you close two hands over his cheeks and lean forward to kiss him. 

He kisses you back, then mumbles how much he loves you against your liquor-soaked lips. Kento calls you beautiful, how fearless and admirable you are, and how he can’t wait to marry you and make you his forever. You’re so pretty in this dress he bought you, spinning like an angel in shoes he bought you. Yeah, he just loves you so much; it's hard to put into further words. He lists off everything you’re wearing, everything you’re saying, and how perfect you are until you’re drunk off of endearances. He holds your cheeks between big, warm hands, shaking your face between kisses. 

Then, for the fiftieth time that day, he tells you he loves you. You smile like it's the first time. 

You two find your way back to Nanami’s apartment in the back of a taxi, leaning your head on his shoulder as he rests on the back of his seat. You kiss over his neck a few times, but he always stills you with a gentle, authoritative hold on your lower thigh. You love the touch, and you obey him by dropping your lips. 

“I wonder how often I told you ‘I love you’ today.” You whisper, just to talk to him some more. He’s been quiet because he’s sleepy, and you know the specifics of his demeanor enough to tell he just wants to be in bed. 

“Between the two of us, I’d estimate a good two hundred.” He cracks open an eye as you gaze up at him. “Maybe more.” 

“Ken? Serious question- 

“Mhm?” 

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?” 

He cracks open his eye again, studying your little puppy-dog stare for any crack of humor. You look completely serious, and it stuns him. “I can’t read you right now.” 

You sit up a bit straighter, smoothing a hand over his sweatshirt. Completely serious, you continue. “If I woke up tomorrow as a little worm in your bed, would you know it's me? Would you love me still?” 

“Probably not.” He shrugs. Then, your face falls, and he has to pedal back. “I-I mean, yes. Yes, sweetie, I will love you. I will carry you on my shoulder as I cook breakfast so you can guide me through your omelette recipe.” 

“Aw.” You sniffle, burying your face in his chest. He pets the back of your head, chuckling once more to himself. He doesn’t want you to think he’s making fun of you, but he loves this stupid drunken state you’re in. He realizes you only had two drinks tonight, but it’s okay. He’s been speaking to you in sickeningly sweet love letters all day, so you were bound to be obsessed and silly. “I love you, my Kento.” 

Nanami presses a kiss to your forehead as the taxi rolls in front of his apartment, finally. Without a word, he pays the fare and coaxes you out of the unfamiliar vehicle. It’s easy to get you out, because as soon as he opens your door, you’re Nanami-starved and leap forward to take his outstretched hand. You love it when he takes the lead, deciding you two would spend the night at his. When you wake up, he’ll help you get to work, then help you get back to his place. It’s his duty, now, as your soon-to-be husband, and he was more than happy to fulfill it. 

“When do you work tomorrow?” He mentions over his shoulder shortly, dragging you with him by the hand. He’s leading you into the apartment building and up the few flights of stairs to his third-floor home. 

“Hm… noon, I think. I’m so sorry, I’ll have to check.” 

“Don’t worry.” He only drops your hand when he fishes for his keys in his back pocket, unlocking and opening the door for you. You tuck under his arm, finally happy and free once you’re back home – his home. Smells so much like him in these four walls that you’d be high by the time you make it out. It’s always so neat in here; Nanami likes it this way. He also likes the way you immediately begin shedding your outer layers as he clicks the door shut and locks it. 

You’re holding your eyes shut as you toe off your loafers, stumbling around and blindly holding an arm out towards him for stability. He holds you for a moment, letting you push off your jacket and hand it to him. 

“Wanna go to sleep.” You whine, Nanami nods you through it, feeling similarly. Somewhere, buried deep down, you both know sleep would be lazy, half-awake lovemaking to mark the day successful. You want that so bad – you want him more than words can express. 

“Yes, dear. Almost there…” He responds, hanging your jacket behind the door and tucking your shoes away. You’re stuck waiting for him while he settles, sweatshirt ruffling his sweet, blonde hair when he pulls it off. Your heart swells and beats at the sight, so you can’t help that the first idea to come to mind is pulling him into a lazy kiss. 

Lips hardly moving, Kento rubbed across your lower back, feeling every inch of the body he knew he had unconditionally. This is all he wanted when he wanted you – love, nurturing, and lovely, sweet sex to keep him sane. If he has to wake up in seven hours to spend his day locked in an office, he’d at least be at ease with the memory of your thighs. He couldn’t ask for a better way to end his proper engagement night. 

So, he leads you to the bedroom, hand in hand, always one step in front of you. He always knows the way. This time, it’s into his bedroom so he can unravel you and take you whole. The first night as something more than a boy or girlfriend didn’t feel much different from the rest for him, but for you, he seemed like an entirely different person. He looked like yours. Familiar and sacred. You loved these sturdy, strict bones. 

“Can you wear something loose tonight? Is that okay?” Nanami’s ushering you into his bedroom, letting you walk forward and drop his hand. Enough nights spent together make it easier to navigate it this time, but you still feel pressure. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but you wanted to be so perfect for him tonight. 

“Don’t have a lot of clothes here.” You stretch your arms over your head, whining a bit as you trek to the closet. “Can’t wait to just live with you so we never have this problem.” 

“Something of mine is okay.” You can hear him fidgeting about in the bedroom, turning lights on and off, lowering the curtains, and setting pillows. Again, you know he does this sometimes, you think it’s a nervous tick, but sex isn’t foreign for you two. 

“I bought this babydoll set I’ve been meaning to show you. Maybe I’ll save it for the wedding now.” You have a small hoard of clothes, here. Just some T-shirts and loose work clothes. It helps in a pinch when you fall asleep here and have to be at work early. Tonight, you settle for the latter – an old t-shirt with an invisible paper company etched into the front. 

Kento waits a bit before responding – he’s in the bathroom, handling something with running water. You can guess he’s washing up, so you go to join him. “You know I love those, but I love it when you’re as comfortable as possible.” He turns his head when he sees you enter the bathroom, glancing at you as he washes his face. “A shirt is good. How are you feeling?” 

“Sleepy.” You reply, lulling your head to the side as you watch thick beads of water drip from his chin to the countertop. Once he feels sufficiently clean, he uses a rag to wipe his face, then the counter before tossing it to the laundry. You loved just watching him be - everything your fiancé does is with utmost precision and purpose. 

“Take over for me, I’ll be in the bedroom.” 

“Oh, wait.” You stop him before he crosses the threshold, digging in the top vanity drawer for a condom in his stash. You both knew if you didn’t grab it here, you’d sleep in mess tonight, and Nanami would have to spend a lot of his night helping you clean and wash everything. 

“Good thinking.” It passes from hand to hand, Nanami holding it up like a prize. He steps out of the bathroom with a final glance, then you’re left to yourself, hands shaking as you start your nightly ritual. 

Kento beats you back to bed, sitting at the side with his elbows pressed to his knees. He’s in different clothes, shirtless with a pair of loose sleep pants hanging from his hips. They’re low enough to be able to tell it's all he’s wearing. You drink in his lean, lanky figure, leaning against the bathroom door with your arms crossed around your chest. 

“Pretty boy.” 

“Just come on.” He laughs with you for a second until he’s just willing you forward with pleading eyes. The lights are dim in the room, but you can still see the way his chest rises and falls nervously as you stalk over to him. He’s glancing at your thighs – up to your lips and loose hair and silky skin. You smell like rose water and him, and he just wants to eat you alive. 

You’re first - you decide as you straddle him, squeezing his shoulders in your grip. He’s so close, you can hear the breath hitch in his throat as you settle over his crotch. 

“I love you.” You whisper to him, pressing your forehead into his. You can feel the slight nod Kento gives you, so you kiss over his ear and roll back into bed. 

Ken sleeps on the left, you’re always on the right. He’s closer to the bedroom door, deeming it safer for always some unsaid reason. You always sleep facing the covered windows with his arms around you so gently, it's like you’re made of glass. Tonight is no different; he holds the covers for you to slip under, watching as you shimmy against his body to get comfortable. He sinks in behind you once you’re settled, burying the side of his head into the pillows. Everything sounds ten times louder – more intimate with your ear pressed into the bed, but you love it. You can hear the thrum in his chest when he snuggles so close. 

Then, you can feel it, and you can hear the sound of his teeth ripping open the foil condom packet in your ear. It makes you shiver, but the tip of his erection gracing your thigh makes you nervous. This is it – you don’t know why it felt like the first time all over again. 

“I love you too,” he finally responds, hand trailing under your shirt and over your thigh. He fiddles down there for a bit, breath hitching directly in your ear as he slides the slick rubber across his sensitive erection.

Once he’s settled and you’re holding onto his arm like a vice, his lips are on your neck, and the warm, familiar head of his cock eases across your entrance, dragging through your slit sensually. You whine immediately, nails digging into his strong skin as he holds you close. Under your shirt, he’s flicking and pinching your nipple, his large hand covering the expanse of your breast. 

Nanami’s breathing so hard, leaving a sticky sheen against your jaw as he works you over. It takes absolutely nothing to get you wet – you were holding back arousal just seeing him sit shirtless on his bed, but you held yourself back because that’s what he always does. He’s just always so perfect and polite, it’s like the man had no flaws. 

You whine as he drags across your sensitive clit, turning your head into the mess of pillows as you fall deeper into his whims. He’s reacting to your voice, nodding behind you like you’re speaking in full sentences. In a way, your sex noises are like sentences. He knows you just told him, right there, don’t move. You feel so good. 

So, there he stays, thrusting his hips through your folds so he always just barely kisses your clit every time. He doesn’t want you to finish like this but knows that you will if he doesn’t just do it and ease himself inside of you. 

Kento is so slow and gruelingly gentle, chewing the lobe of your ear as he presses his hips into you. The stretch of him paving his way is so familiar and lovely - aching in the way you know you can’t live without now. He’s just slightly larger than normal, especially with such a lanky frame, but you go crazy for it. You two fit together like puzzle pieces, kissing and feeling under covers as your body memorizes the shape of their counterparts to keep forever. 

When he’s finally fully seated inside of you, your guts swim and cry, sending another hot wave of arousal through your veins. He feels this good covered in a condom, it’s not like you remember. Every single nerve in your body is a million times more sensitive, more receptive to his sweet moans and love-licked kisses. 

“-feel so good.” You manage to breathe out as he humps you lazily, licking a stripe from the base of your neck to your jawline. He knows it feels good, you’re so warm and comforting under these downy blankets, he was due to overheat at any second. That doesn’t make him want to stop, it makes him want to fuck you deeper. 

“Ken- kiss me.” You know he’s not the most vocal person in bed unless he’s upset or ranting. Tonight, he was tired from work and the love he gave you so purely and easily so the loudest he gets is his panting breath in your ear. 

You help him along, craning your neck so his lips can find yours. He sucks them clean, tongue swiping across your bottom lip and spilling soft grunts inside. You swallow them all like a drug, begging for more as your lips hang open. He grabs your face, fingers digging in your chin as he pulls you back to deepen everything. Inside, he’s kissing your most delicate spots, and on the outside, he’s making your lips his. Mixing spit and tastes gives you the perfect mouthful of him. Every single trace of what his tongue touched today. But, most of all, he tastes like you. 

The realization nearly makes you cry. You love him so much. 

“P-please.” You’ve started to beg as his hand falls between your thighs, massaging your clit between his fingers. You can feel the tension in his thrusts, letting you feel his closeness as his grunts begin to break. You wish you could feel what he’s feeling, but you’re sure what you’re feeling had to be ten times more potent. It feels like you’re on fire, letters of his pretty name being branded into your flesh as you finally cum around him and his sinfully skilled fingers. 

“Loveyouloveyouloveyouloveyou,” you cry, whining so high and painfully as he fucks you through the wave of craze. You’re both damp in sweat, sticky with your finish. But, Ken isn’t done. 

He tightens his hand around your throat as he grinds his hips hard into you. He’s so silent, it’s unnerving, but when he cums, he actually breathes out a little moan. 

“My baby… love you.” 

That next morning, Nanami helps you to work like he promised, shoving a few loose dollars in your purse as you run out to your ride. Of course, you were running late. You couldn’t turn down the steamy makeout session in the morning shower, only not going further because of the doom of the morning clock. He’s due at his desk just a half hour after you leave, so he’s in just as much as a rush as you are. 

Oh, and you certainly didn’t work at noon. You two woke up just forty minutes before you had to be on the floor of your boutique job. 

You’re not complaining or stressed because you are so over the moon with your life now. Kento asked you to come straight home to him after work, and he’d order dinner. Apparently, you two have a lot to talk about, but you know he just needs your constant presence now. 

The only time you’re apart is when he turns his cell off during work hours. Your fiancé was strict, but you always had his desk number if there was an emergency. He always had you fitted with one of his cards in case you have to buy anything, but he prefers if you’re cautious. When he handed it to you those weeks ago, he told you to be careful, but you know he wouldn’t be upset if you spent the entirety of the balance. He’d likely scold you with a quirk in his brow, then make mind-shattering love to you that same night. 

Yeah, your Namani was the perfect man. You can’t stress that enough. 

As you’re folding clothes and tagging at work, your mind drifts to him and his toned chest. His voice rings familiar in your ears, making you shiver even when nobody's there. You purposefully address coworkers and friends with your ringed finger, blushing and talking all about your man when asked. A lot of your people know of Kento, but he’s extremely private. Whenever you’re drinking dollars away with your young friends, he’s usually at home sipping a beer and watching the news in distaste. 

Somehow, that made him so much more perfect… 

God, you just can’t stop thinking about him. 

Daydreaming about him

Lost in thought, with his eyes totally blocking out all of your common sense. It’s nearly impossible to exist – you would have to shrug off for a bit and let this love settle into your norm before becoming yourself again. 

It drives you crazy not being able to see him during these long work stretches. 

So, that night when you beat him home, you spend a small eternity tending to yourself in the bathroom. Shaving, plucking, perfuming, dusting – all of it. You practice saying his name in the mirror, backed by meek praises like ‘I love you so much’ and ‘I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day.’ 

You know he’d just give it that unassuming chuckle he always did, but it’s your unassuming chuckle. You’re likely the only person he’s ever given that specific look, and that makes you so warm and fuzzy. The thought of him carries the hours by until he’s turning on his phone and immediately sending you an,

On my way to you, love. 

Pressure builds in your bones as you read it a few times, skin tingling in a blush. There’s nothing more you have to do to prepare for him, so you pinch your glossed lips together and leave the bathroom. You know it usually takes Kento fifteen minutes to get home by train, so you spend all fifteen of them tidying out random spots in the apartment, even making sure a window is open to let some fresh Spring air through. 

But it’s on that 18-minute mark that the front door unlocks, and your Nanami steps inside with his briefcase and shirt buttoned high. You rise from checking your phone, tossing it back on the couch as you flood him. 

“I missed you so fucking much. God, today was terrible.” You smooth your palms over his chest, letting him lean to set his briefcase down. He doesn’t speak just yet; he leans forward and kisses you. “How are you doing, babe?” 

He’s not talking to you, he’s just kissing you, trailing hands down your back. “Mm, you smell good,” Kento whispered in your ear after kissing across your jaw. “Wear this perfume for me all the time, now.” 

“It’s like super expensive, Ken. I just have the tiny bottle.” You laugh, holding his shoulders as he steps back. The first thing he does is loosen his tie, taking his first real breath of the day. 

“Buy it on my card.” He decides like it's nothing, more focused on getting his shoes off so he can collapse on his couch. “Sorry, I just didn’t sleep much last night.”

You shake your head, furrowing your brows as you breathe out a short laugh. You knew why he didn’t get much sleep, it was your fault. “I was there. Didn’t get much either.” 

“Won’t get a lot tonight, either.” He takes in your reflection for a moment, eyes drinking in the soft silk nightgown hugging your familiar shape. You always put in so much effort making sure you dress pretty for him. It’s impossible not to when you work in a boutique and have a constant supply of cute things. 

He appreciates it more than he could ever say. Instead of thinking about what he’d have for dinner all day, Kento is thinking about what you’d be wearing for him when he sees you again. 

“Well, you smell good… you look good…” He stops for a second, tossing his blazer down with his briefcase. He didn’t know how to act when you’re standing in front of him with that doe-in-the-headlights demeanor, biting over your shimmering lips. He swallows down something sinister. “Do you taste good, too?” 

The biggest, stupidest smile takes over your face as his eyes trail up your bare thighs. He catches a glimpse of your face and laughs, taking that as his sign to hoist you up by the thighs and carry you to the bedroom. 

“You said we had a lot to talk about today?”  

You’re impartial to the fact he’s literally tossing you on the bed, reaching immediately for your knees to pose you properly. He can feel the glands in the back of his cheeks starting to secrete at the thought of drowning himself between your thighs. You just look so pretty and smell like heaven. Kento didn’t know what to do with himself. 

He keeps his collar buttoned to the top as he yanks open your knees, getting down on his so he can catch the view of your red rosy underwear. 

“What ‘re you talking about, girl?” He mumbles, licking his lips before pushing your panties to the side and dipping his tongue into your eager cunt. 

You were expecting his mouth, but you weren’t expecting him to be so eager; it makes you squeal. “Ken- fuck!” 

He hums, using a single hand to clench your thigh and another to unbutton his shirt. His sinful, loving tongue fucks you like he wants to – taking its time dipping in and out of your shivering entrance. You’re leaking and crying for him already, jumbled endearances falling out of your parted lips. 

It’s like he’s fucking you stupid only on his tongue. It kills you - he kills you. I bet he expects two more rounds out of you, too, before the night is done. 

But you two do have a lot to talk about. So, after you finish all over his tongue, he shoves off to the bathroom and closet to clean up. He leaves you time to yourself to collect your bearings, just deciding to ditch the sticky underwear in their entirety. It’s not like you’d be hiding anything from him anymore. 

“So, you’re moving in with me. I’ve started thinking about the whole process.” Kento steps out of the closet in his pajamas, combing his long hair back with his hands. He keeps complaining it’s getting too long for his tastes, but you like having something to tangle your fingers in. He wouldn’t cut it just yet. 

“Oh - yes, I guess.” 

“You guess?” He stops before he goes in the bathroom, wiping his face on his forearm. He’s looking over you with shadowed, sleepy eyes. “You don’t want to?” 

“Obviously, I want to.” You’re still gathering yourself, pushing your strap back over your shoulder. “Just… give me a second.” 

“Are you coming down well?” 

“Mhm,” You finally open your eyes, tucking some hair away. Now that you’re feeling a bit steadier, it’s easier to face him normally. He looks cute. “I’ll move in with you. You’re closer to the city, anyway.” 

That makes him smile again, and you realize you need a picture of him doing that. It’s not a common expression with him. “Since you get off earlier than I do, you can always just be at home waiting for me.” 

He doesn’t give you a lot of space to respond before he heads into the bathroom, turns on the faucet, and takes care of himself with you out of sight. You feel a pang of loneliness when he leaves your sight, but you’re stuck thinking about what he just told you. 

You can always just be at home waiting for me.