#could be cute or romantic or ridiculous

[gyaruhana]

hiiii!

if it is not too much to ask, could you please do player 120 (cho hyun-ju) sfw and nsfw headcanons for fem reader, plsss??(ofc, only if u are comfortable, no pressure🫶🏻🫶🏻)

Ty, and wish u a good day/night 💞

Cho Hyun-Ju/Player 120 - Headcannons

Synopsis: Hyun-Ju sfw and nsfw headcannons !!

A/N: tried my best to write for this absolute girlboss who highkey carried the series

Warnings: nsfw content, fingering, pussy eating, pretty vanilla actually

SFW:

➠ Honestly best gf one could ask for

➠ She’s so caring and ridiculously patient

➠ Showers you in compliments !! always calling you pretty and complimenting what you wear/how you look

➠ If you’re ever insecure she’s so reassuring and knows just how to make you feel better

➠ Not a lot of PDA other than some basic hand holding but she doesn’t shy away from being open about your relationship

➠ Cute dates like picnics because she’s honestly a romantic..

➠ You could honestly just sit in silence and stare at each other for ages and you do, in fact, stare at each other

➠ She’s always open to trying new things with you like ice skating because quality time with the person who cares about her and accepts her for who she is will always be a must for her

➠ Super protective of you !!

➠ She keeps all the creeps away from you 

➠ She actually doesn’t get jealous.. Just concerned when someone flirts with you because she hates when you’re uncomfortable

➠ Very easily slips in and openly tells whoevers flirting that you’re taken by her

➠ If they don't get the message, she'll just walk away but if they try to get physical she WILL put them in their place

➠ Overall, perfect girlfriend. I will never change my mind !!

NSFW:

➠ Prefers to take care of you so she’s actually quite gentle in bed

➠ You are her number one priority so expect her to literally always bring you to the best releases !!

➠ Honestly enjoys fingering you so she can watch your expressions

➠ Don’t be afraid to get loud. She wants you to say what you’re feeling all the time !!

➠ She, herself, isn’t very loud but she does make some comments praising you for taking her fingers so well.

➠ Gentle kisses all the way ! No matter where she’s leaving them, it’s so gentle. Your lips, your neck, your thighs- every kiss she leaves is so full with love 

➠ When she eats you out, still gentle and not messy. She’s polite with it😭

➠ Rubs soft circles on your clit when you’re close to make your orgasm that much better

➠ I feel like she’d prefer to dom but if you want to be dom, she’d let you

➠ Overall, sex with her is more gentle and loving because she wants you to know how important you are to her

"Just breathe. I'll make you feel good, baby," she says as she thrusts two of her fingers in and out of you. Her fingers reach all the right places and, just when you thought it couldn't get any better, she begins to rub your clit in a soft, circular motion with her thumb. The action forces a moan from your throat as you feel yourself draw closer to a release. She smiles as she looks at you and gently squeezes your thigh with her other hand. "There you go, don't hold back. Just cum on my fingers, yeah?"

[ahqkas]

Could you do the bamboos doing the tiktok trend a boy who jacket and kind please

♯JACKED AND KIND ( the batboys doing the ‘jacked and kind’ tiktok trend with you ! )

— gn!reader, dick & jason & tim ( separated ), cursing, not edited

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

. . . DICK GRAYSON !

this man would literally be so hyped about doing the trend with you!!

your boyfriend stood behind you as you positioned your phone just right, angling it to catch the best angles. he doing some simple stretches, probably the same ones he did whenever he got ready for one of his patrols. you watched in the reflection your phone provided how his navy blue shirt fit his torso, wrapping and stretching around the muscles without any real effort to show off his broad shoulders and muscular arms. you could also point out the faintest smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. he knew exactly how good he looked.

“okay,” you took a step backwards toward him once you were satisfied with the preparation. “don’t let me down.”

a chuckle left his throat at your words while he met you halfway in the steps, taking a few steps forward so he could be standing behind you in order to record the trend. “baby, letting you down isn’t part of my vocabulary. lifting you up, on the other hand . . .” he trailed off with a wink and you managed to lightly slap his bicep before the countdown went off and the video started recording.

the song started playing from the phone — “slim pickins” by sabrina carpenter — and you tensed into position, facing the camera. you felt the warmth of his large hands on your hips before he touched you ( his touch was steady, as if he had done this a million times before ).

with an almost effortless motion, dick lifted you up in the air for a second before you made contact with his shoulder. you squealed in surprise from how quickly the whole thing happened and tried to balance yourself on top of him. he adjusted his grip on your knees while flexing his biceps for the camera, showing off the pure muscle with a large grin etched on his pretty face.

he looked confident, like he was the first man to ever grace the earth, even swaying a bit on his feet. show-off. the song continued playing, and just as the lyrics — “a boy who’s jacked and kind” — faded, dick followed it by lowering your body down in a quick move, catching you in a bridal style before you could even process what was happening.

“dick!” you couldn’t help but gasp this time. you haven’t seen this feature in the trending videos yet, and you were pretty sure you two would end up viral with just this move alone. you could picture the comments already.

“get a room”

“i miss my future bf”

“ON MY PHONE? ON MY WIFI? ON MY ACCOUNT??”

he really was jacked and kind.

. . . JASON TODD !

jason would kill this trend without even trying.

you had been begging him for the last hour about doing one of those new trending tiktok videos. the ones where couples did something ridiculously romantic which caused the whole comment section to show what’s it like to be born a hater (“so cute!! BLOCKED” “reacted "👍🏻" to your message” “i’m sleeping on a highway tonight guys” ). jason had been through countless trends already, but you were extra set on doing this trend with him.

“jason, come on! it’ll be fun, i promise.”

he dropped the book he was reading on the coffee table with a dramatic sigh, turning to look you in the eye. “i swear, every time i turn around, there’s another damn trend going viral.”

but there was no real annoyance in the tone of his voice. he could act all rough and nonchalant, but deep down, he adored you with all his heart and soul. he’d never admit it aloud, but you got him feeling things he didn’t quite know how to process.

you looked over at him with those pleasing eyes he could never resist. “please, jay?”

letting out the biggest sigh you’ve ever heard, your boyfriend stood up from the couch and walked over to where you were standing in front of your phone. “you’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered under his breath lowly with those beefy arms crossed at his chest.

“i promise this will be the last one.”

“uh-huh.” jason didn’t want it to be the last one.

you turned your head over your shoulder to look at him while you set your phone up. “you know how this works, right? just pick me up and place me on your shoulder.”

you didn’t have a single doubt about him not being able to pick you up. jason was a big guy, he could manhandle you all you he wanted without breaking a sweat, you knew that. he was going to pick you up.

“alright, sweetheart. get over here.”

the song started playing as soon as the timer was up and you felt his hands sliding up your thighs as he bend over a bit before he wrapped his forearms around the meat of your legs. he picked you up effortlessly like you weighed nothing, not a single sound of protest leaving his lips from the motion. your laugh filled the room when you made contact with his broad shoulder and you wrapped your arm around his neck, leaning slightly closer to him for the video to capture.

jason didn’t flex his arms, didn’t need to show his strength off. he simply wrapped his hands around your thighs, fingers kneading the soft muscles as he helped you balance yourself so you wouldn’t fall and make a blooper instead.

“see? no big deal.”

. . . TIM DRAKE !

tim was never one to enjoy attention, especially not the one that came with being on camera.

but when you, with your sweet smile and convincing voice, had asked him to do yet another one of your tiktok trends, he couldn’t really say no.

“tim, please? you’ll love it, i promise,” you pleaded with him, already setting up your phone with the timer set straight on because you knew he wouldn’t resist you. he never did.

and he didn’t this time, either. “what’s this trend about again?”

you practically bounced over to where he was standing with pure excitement written all over your face. “it’s a lifting one. i just need you to pick me up exactly when the songs say ‘a boy who’s jacked and kind’. simple, right?”

“i really don’t think–“

“oh, come on! you’re strong, and you’re always complaining i never let you have fun. this is fun, tim.”

at that, he let out a long sigh while his hand rubbed the back of his neck. he was thinking, deep in thoughts. but you were really really really hard to resist when you got like this — all pleading and loving with him. you had this look in your eye, he had realized, one that said you would never stop bugging him until you got your way. and he realized he was down bad for that look.

“fine. but if i drop you, don’t blame me.”

tim stepped into position behind you, his eyes narrowing as he mentally braced for the lift before the video could ever start. he wasn’t sure how exactly this was supposed to go, but it didn’t look that complicated, right? it was just about picking you up and holding you there for a few seconds. simple. yet, he couldn’t help but overthink the whole thing.

his stance was little awkward, with his hands hovering near your waist as if he wasn’t entirely sure of his footing, trying to maintain that balance between not looking too stiff and not being too casual either.

for a split second, everything was going perfectly. your boyfriend had you in his arms, effortlessly supporting you on his shoulder while your laughter erupted from your throat. you knew tim would be perfect for this trend. but that’s when things went sideways.

his feet shuffled under him and he lost his footing on the carpet beneath him. his balance wavered which caused yours to do just as same, and before he could adjust and save the situation, your body slipped a little too far to one side. tim’s eyes widened, and he made a split-second decision to shift his hands, trying to catch you before you fell completely.

everything happened so fast.

you were halfway to the floor when his arm shot out, catching you by the waist just in time. for a second, it looked like he might’ve actually saved the moment — then his grip faltered, and you were both tumbling to the ground in a tangled mess of limbs.

“ah!”

the two of you collapsed together, but your boyfriend managed to twist in the last moment, taking most of the fall with his own body before you could hit the floor completely. he groaned softly under you with his chest rising and falling rapidly as you lay on top of him, your face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and laughter.

“you almost dropped me.”

“i did drop you,” he replied dryly, but his voice held no real frustration — just the tiniest hint of amusement as he looked up at you.

it might’ve not been a video that would kill the whole trend, but it was a video that would never fail to make you smile. and that was enough for you.

[moon-child-goddess]

Charming

James Potter X Gryffindor reader

Kind of Enemies to start with.  This one is just a collection of scenes.

Summary: Reader hates James, and James keeps showing up to annoy her.

Warnings: Language, reader loves to flip James off, Lily is not a bad person in this, mentions of injuries,

I once again don't know how to keep things short like is over 8k words so its a long one.

Potter was at it again, bothering Lily that is.  Which was no surprise at all, his life’s purpose was to bother Lily and pull obnoxious pranks. He was perched against the black tabletop, arms crossed, and that stupid charming smirk of his was present. He was spewing out nonsense, about what their first date would look like.  

“Imagine it, Evans,” his tone dripped with mock sincerity. “Fireworks across the sky, a romantic broom ride under the stars, and—of course—a picnic with the finest butterbeer Hogwarts can offer.”

I rolled my eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t get stuck. Of course, Potters’ idea of romance would include the most cliché theatrics. He probably thought he was charming too.  

Suppressing the urge to gag at his words, I refocused on the simmering potion before me, carefully stirring the thick, bubbling liquid in clockwise motions. The aroma was faintly herbal, with a sharp tang, it was my only indication I was on the right track.

 “James,” Lily said, her voice was sweet but firm like a scolding mother. “I need to help my partner. She can’t do all the work alone.”  

Her words pulled his attention my way for the first time their entire conversation. He turned, and for a fleeting second, something softened in his brown eyes. But his trademark grin returned, and whatever glimmer of humanity I’d spotted was gone.

“Oh, I see. Don’t worry, Lily, I’m sure she’s perfectly capable of stirring a pot without supervision. Isn’t that, right?” His tone was light, but there was a condescending edge that made my grip on the spoon tighten.

I shot him a cold glare before flipping him off without a word.

“Charming,” he quipped, that maddening smirk of his only widening. “aren’t you just a little ray of sunshine”

I was tempted to lob the wooden spoon at his head. Infuriating—That’s what Potter was. Every word out of his mouth made me want to throttle him.

Lily let out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “James really?”

Muttering the word ‘asshole’ under my breath, I skirted around him to retrieve a forgotten ingredient from the shelf at the back of the classroom. I glanced back at our table and Lily was smacking him on the arm, hissing something to him. By the time I returned to our workstation, he’d finally slunk back to his seat beside Sirius, whose shoulders were shaking with barely suppressed laughter.

Lily offered me an apologetic smile. “Sorry, he’s just…James”

“He is arrogant and full of himself.” I replied, dumping in a measure of powdered moonstone into the cauldron. “I can see why you always tell him to booger off.”

“He is cute,” She admitted with a small shrug. “But he has eyes for someone else.”

I almost dropped the spoon. Of all the ridiculous things she could say that had to top them all.  Everyone in the castle knew Potter was utterly infatuated with her. It was the topic of every whispered bet in the corridors.

“Right.” I muttered in disbelief under my breath.

Before I could say anymore there was a loud hiss and crackle coming from behind us. My head snapped up just in time to see a plume of green smoke erupting out of Potters and Sirus’s cauldron. Whatever they had brewed smelled noxious.

“Everyone, step back!” Professor Slughorn’s voice boomed as he waved his wand to contain the smoke.  

But before I could move, the cauldron gave a final, violent pop. A spray of scalding liquid flew in all directions. I let out a small squeak closing my eyes and bracing for the inevitable burn. Amongst the chaotic noise I swear I heard someone yell out my name.

The pain never came.

A firm grip caught my arm, yanking me back. When I opened my eyes again there was a sizzling green goop right where I was standing. I was met with Potters concerned eyes when I looked up. His signature grin was gone, replaced by an intensity I had never seen before.

“Are you okay?” He asked, voice unusually quiet.

Potter looked me over inspecting for any sort of injury. Both his hands were on my shoulder’s steading my shaking form.

I blinked once, twice, three times, before responding. “Uh… Yeah.”

His hands lingered on me a moment longer before taking a step back, running a hand through his hair. Sirus behind me was laughing so hard he was nearly in tears.

“James, mate that was brilliant!” Sirus wheezed, wiping his eyes.

Potter shot him a frosty look. It was an expression I didn’t know he could conjure; he was always smiling and carefree.

“Brilliant? You nearly got her killed.” He bit out shoving me behind him.

Sirus froze, his laughter dying. “Oh, come on it wasn’t that bad.”

But James wasn’t listening. He turned his attention back to me, his expression softer. “Are you really, okay?”  

I nodded mutely, still trying to process what was happening. The boy who annoyed me every waking moment was being… Kind to me?

Potter nodded back before walking out of the room. His shoulders tense.

Lily leaned over, whispering, “See? He’s not all bad.”

I didn’t reply. For once, I was at a loss for words.

The courtyard was peaceful despite the bustling of students crossing through. I sat in a shady patch of grass with an old, but well-loved book.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Potter’s voice rang out, breaking my solitude like a shattering glass.

I let out a groan. He had an uncanny knack for ruining perfectly good days. I didn’t bother looking up, pretending to focus on the words in front of me.

“What do you want, Potter?” I muttered, my tone sharp.

He plopped down on the grass right beside me, stretching out like he owned the place.

“Just enjoying the great outdoors, same as you. Sans the book. I think you read more than Remus.”

I finally looked up; my scowl sharp enough to peel paint. “There’s an entire courtyard for you to ‘enjoy.’ Go find a different patch of grass.”

“But this is the best spot,” he said cheerfully, completely ignoring my attempt to banish him. “Nice shade, quiet atmosphere, good company—”

“You’re impossible,” I cut him off, snapping my book shut. “Do you ever get tired of being... you?”

“Nope,” he replied, popping the P. “And you don’t seem tired of it either.”

I blinked at him, stunned by the audacity. “I literally just told you to leave. What part of that makes you think I like you?”

“Yet you haven’t left.” He leaned in slightly, the smell of sandalwood and vanilla coming from him. “I think you secretly like having me around.”

Potters eyes were twinkling.

“I think you are delusional,” I countered, but my voice cracked slightly. His smile deepened like he’d caught me in some grand confession.  

“Delusional, huh? Interesting diagnosis, sunshine”

My head snaped back to him so fast I nearly got whiplash. “What did you- What did you just call me?”

“Sunshine.” He repeated, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Fits, doesn’t it?”

He really was delusional.

“No, it doesn’t,” I bit out through gritted teeth. “don’t call me that.”  

“Why not? It’s perfectly you. You are so warm and radiant”

My hand clenched around the edge of my book, and for a split second, I considered using it as a weapon.

I stared at him in disbelief. My jaw tightening. “I hate you.”  

“Aw, don’t be like that, Sunshine.” his smirk now verging on insufferable. “Deep down, I think you actually like me.”

I stood up so fast he flinched slightly.

“Listen, Potter. I don’t know what twisted game you’re playing, but I’m not interested. Call me that again, and I swear—”

“What? You’ll hex me?” he interrupted, clearly unbothered by any threat I could make. “Go ahead. I’m dying to see what you’d come up with.”

The nerve of this boy.

Instead of dignifying his challenge with a response, I glared harder before turning on my heel and storming off. Behind me, I could hear his laughter following me like an annoying echo.

“See you around, Sunshine!” he called after me, his voice ringing with triumph.

I flipped him off without turning around, my blood boiling.

Sunshine? What an absolutely ridiculous, infuriating nickname. And yet, as I stalked back to the castle, I couldn’t stop replaying the way he’d said it—like it was a joke only he understood.  

I hated him. I really, really hated him.

I had managed to keep the Potter interactions to a minimum. I avoided him by ducking behind statues whenever I caught sight of his messy hair or hiding behind Lily when in class. For a moment, I thought I’d finally regained my background character peace.

The Sunshine nickname had stuck much to my dismay. Every time he said it in class, I swear my blood pressure spiked.

Which is why, when the library’s familiar quiet atmosphere enveloped me one late evening, I let myself relax for the fist time in days. This was my slice of heaven. The dim candlelight and the faint scent of parchment was soothing, a perfect backdrop for tackling the mountain of notes piled before me.

“Well, well if it isn’t my favorite ray of sunshine, hiding in the shadows.” Potters voice drawled breaking the silence like a Bludger through a window.

My quill stilled mid-sentence, and I groaned internally.

“Don’t you have someone else to bother?” I pursed my lips pretending to think. “Like Lily perhaps?”

Instead of taking the hint, he pulled out the chair in front of me and plopped down.  This took my attention away from the papers in front of me. Potters grin was so smug it could rival the Cheshire Cat’s. How could one person be so obnoxious?

“Lily’s got enough admirers for one day. Besides,” he said, leaning back slinging a toned arm over the chair next to him. “you’re far more interesting.”

“Watch it. Lily is my friend,” I shot back, folding my arms across my chest. “What do you want, Potter?”

“Nothing much,” as he spoke, as he leaned his chair on its back legs.  “Just thought you could use some company.”

Company? What about me in a dark corner with books scattered about screams I need company. Potter was an idiot.

A special kind of idiot.

“I don’t need company” I snapped turning back to my notes.

“You sure?” He was leaning forward now. “You seem awfully tense maybe I could help.”

I arched an eyebrow at him unimpressed with his antics. The only person in his group I would accept help from was Remus. He spent more time on schoolwork then I did.

“Unless you have suddenly become an expert in transfiguration theory, I seriously doubt you can help”  

Potter hummed before picking up my book.

“Transfiguration, huh?” He tilted his head to the side like a curious dog. The candles reflected off his glasses creating a glare.

“Nope can’t help with that. But I am an excellent distraction from stress.”

“Clearly.” I mumbled, yanking my book back.

He chuckled, a warm sound that I refused to acknowledge as pleasant.

“You don’t have to be so prickly sunshine.”

“Maybe I am prickly because you are insufferable.” I shot back.

I wanted to throw something at him, but the detention was not worth it.

“But I think you mean I am insufferably charming.” He countered.

“As charming as a toad.”

That earned me a loud laugh from him, he was genuinely amused. “Sunshine has jokes, I like this side of you.”  

I didn’t say anything just flipped him off. Potter laughed again, the sound carrying through the now empty library.

“Prongs!” Sirius voice rang out from somewhere near the entrance. “Come on, we’ve got rounds.”

James stood up, still looking at me. “Guess I’ll leave you to it, Sunshine.” He winked as he walked away, leaving me wondering what the hell had just happened.

It was about a week later before he spoke to me again. I was on an evening stroll around the grounds enjoying the crisp evening air.

Potter was at the lake skipping stones with his group. They were all laughing and making fun of something. I was to far away to hear. Sirus noticed me first nudging James in the arm pointing in my direction. I narrowed my eyes.

“Sunshine!” He called out. As if were the greatest of pals.

I kept walking, acting like I didn’t hear him. He jogged up the hill quickly falling into step with me.

“What has you in such a hurry?”

“Trying to avoid you and your gaggle of friends.” I was blunt not bothering to soften the blow.

“Harsh,” He clutched his chest dramatically. “You wound me.”

“You will survive, especially if you know, just leave me alone.”

There was a beat of silence.

“You know you could just admit you like me”

I halted my steps and blinked turning mid step. “Why on earth would I do that?”

“Because everyone likes me!” I half expected him to spin with his arms out, but he just shrugged.

The confidence of him. His parents raised an irritatingly confident secure personality.  

I rolled my eyes, “That is impossible Potter, because I really don’t like you.”  

“Oh, I will grow on you, I promise.” There was a playfulness to his tone.

“Like a fungus, maybe.” I scoffed.

James burst out laughing, the sound wasn’t entirely unpleasant. My lips twitched fighting a smile. He was kind of cute in that moment. The way the setting sun caught in his hair and how he absentmindedly adjusted his glasses made him look... well, charming.

Shaking the thought away, I did what came naturally and flipped him off continuing my walk. This time, though, the gesture was almost playful.

Before I got far, I glanced back and spotted Sirius patting James on the back with a mischievous grin. My stomach sank. They were up to something, and I was undoubtedly their next target.

I steeled myself, pulling my walls higher than ever. I wouldn’t fall victim to whatever scheme they were concocting.

Not this time.

Avoiding Potter from that point on had become a fulltime task. No matter where I went, he showed up with a cheesy pick-up line. Somehow, he was everywhere. Like he had some sort of magical tracker. Which was why I had taken refuge under the shade of a secluded oak tree on the furthest side of the castle grounds. A book clutched in my hands like it was my lifeline of sanity. Lily had recommended it to me. It was a fun muggle mystery. She had called it a classic.

“I think about it a lot you know. What our first date would look like.”  Potters annoying voice spoke from above me.

And yet, there he was, like a persistent weed sprouting through the cracks. Of course, the obnoxious boy would find this well-hidden tree. How was he always finding me?

“Umm what?” I sputtered not quite believing what I heard.

“You heard me sunshine.” that damn confidence was back, as if he was going to get what he wanted out of this conversation.

The sun made it difficult to see him, its light blasting directly into my eyes from behind his head, forming a blinding halo around him.

“Stop lying, it’s not cute.”  I muttered.

Potter moved to the side; my eyes followed.  He was unfazed by my dismissiveness. I closed my book with a snap, no longer able to tolerate being in the same space as him.

“I promise you, I’m not,” his voice still dripping with that unshakeable confidence.

He was up to something, and I had no idea what it was—but I sure wasn’t going to stick around to find out.  

“I will believe that hmm… let’s see- never.” I stood up, almost headbutting Potter.  

“Sunshine, even if you don’t believe me now, I am good at proving people wrong.”

Before taking my leave, I flipped him off aggressively. The gesture sharp and final, I wanted him to get the message to leave me alone. Usually when someone flips another person off, they get a clue.  

But he laughed.

On my way back to the castle I passed by a Sirus Black hiding behind a statue. He was clearly trying (and failing) to stifle a laugh. That confirmed it—they were definitely up to something, and I had no intention of being the butt of their joke.

Potter had taken Lilys seat in potions class. She sent me an apologetic look when I entered. Slughorn wouldn’t be bothered. He just cared that everyone sat and paid attention.

“Guess I am your partner today, Sunshine.” He greeted.

I ignored him, dumping my books on the table with a thud. Ignoring him was not working for me but it was the only thing keeping me from harming him.  Potter was like a dog with a bone—relentless.

“Did you know you’re my favorite lab partner?” he added, his voice light, teasing.

“No, and I don’t care,” I muttered, flipping through my notes.

Slughorn us gave us instructions to brew the potion we talked about earlier in the week. I opened my notebook to the vigorous notes I had taken.  I got up collecting everything we needed and started the process without a word.

Halfway through and Potter hadn’t moved. He was supposed to be actually helping brew. But he was utterly useless, just sitting there staring at me with his head propped up on his fist.  

It was infuriating.

“Merlin! Potter, you need to help me,” I snapped, thrusting the spoon in his direction. The frustration in my voice was impossible to miss.

His only response was a stupid dopy grin, He didn’t flinch, didn’t so much as blink at the spoon an inch from his nose. Instead, that ridiculous grin widened.

"You know, sunshine, if I could brew a potion to make you smile, I would." He winked, and I resisted the urge to hex him.

He was impossible. No wonder Lily always said no—these were the kind of lines you’d expect from a child. What did I do to earn his attention?

“Do these lines actually work for you?” I frowned.

“I don’t know,” he said, his amber eyes twinkling now. “Are they?”

There it was again—his infuriating ability to twist every interaction into a game. I wasn’t playing.

There was no way he was insinuating anything with me. Everyone knew he only had eyes for the redhead—Lily—who just happened to be my actual potions partner. Just a few weeks ago he was at our table bothering her.

“I meant, do they work on Lily?” I clarified, my voice flat.

James tilted his head, feigning confusion, though the mischievous glint in his eyes gave him away. “Why would I care about that?”

For the millionth time since I’d met the boy, I rolled my eyes again.

“For the love of Merlin, just stir,” I hissed, shoving the spoon into his hand.

To my surprise, he actually complied, though he made a dramatic show of it, swirling the liquid as though he were crafting some grand masterpiece.

“See? I’m not completely useless, “his tone insufferably self-satisfied.

I ignored him, turning my attention back to the notes. Sirius let out a snort of laughter, only to be smacked on the back of the head by Remus.

“Get back to work,” Remus muttered, though his lips twitched with suppressed amusement.

It was impossible to ignore the lingering sense that Potter was up to something—and I was the target.

James Potter took it upon himself to sit at my usual dining table. My quiet, little secluded corner—the one that no one really bothered with except Lily and her close circle of friends. He slid into the seat across from me his tie undone.

I raised an eyebrow at him, fork halfway to my mouth. What does he want now?

“Are you made of stardust?” I looked heavenward; his tone was teasing but had a softness. “Because every time I look at you, the world seems to disappear."

I set my fork down, sending him a flat look. “You seriously think I am going to fall for one of your cheesy lines while eating?”

He was persistent to pull of whatever prank they were up to. If only he applied that persistence’s to his schoolwork.

Potter shrugged, but this time there was no playful retort. Instead, his grin faded slightly, replaced by something almost... serious. "Maybe I’m just hoping one will finally catch your attention."

The tone change caught me off guard. I almost believed him. He has been playful and flirty the last few weeks. There was movement a couple feet away that caught my attention. Sirus was leaning against the wall just within earshot.

He looked like he was barely containing a laugh, as though James was the star player in some elaborate joke they’d cooked up.

They were too obvious. My frown deepened.

"Potter, your games won’t work on me,” my voice sharper than I intended. "You’re wasting your time."

His gaze softened further, and for once the playfulness was gone. "Maybe I like wasting my time... if it means I get to spend it with you."

The sincerity in his voice made my stomach twist, and I hated it. Hated how, for a fleeting second, I felt something crack in my resolve. But before I could dwell on it, Sirius snorted loudly from his perch, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

Another pick-up line? Another game? Another performance for his friends?

Potter just didn’t seem to know when enough was enough. My appetite was officially gone, and I had no intention of sticking around to entertain whatever nonsense they were plotting.

 “You really don’t get it, do you?” I said slinging my bag over my shoulder.  “I’m not just some joke to you and your friends.”

“Wait—” James started, his hand reaching out like he might stop me.

But I didn’t give him the chance. Before he could say another word, I flipped him off and stalked out of the dining hall, not bothering to look back.

The moment I stepped into the corridor, the tension in my chest eased slightly, though my thoughts still churned. It was bad enough that James had inserted himself into nearly every aspect of my day. Classes, hallways, even the library. He was everywhere.

I didn’t know what he and his friends were planning.

And yet, as I made my way through the castle, a new thought began to gnaw at the edges of my frustration. Was this all part of some elaborate ploy to make Lily jealous? A way to grab her attention by pretending to care about someone else?

The idea stung more than I wanted to admit.

Of course, I told myself firmly. That has to be it. Why else would someone like James Potter be wasting his time with me?

Pushing the thought aside, I tightened my grip on my bag and headed for the common room. I wasn’t going to let him—or his stupid, infuriating grin—take up any more space in my head.

Lily my saving grace was in her spot when I entered the potions classroom. Relief flooded through me, and for the first time in days I felt lighter. There she was my red headed angel. With a smile, I dropped into my seat next to her, savoring the normalcy.

“I didn’t think I’d ever be so happy to see your face," I whispered to Lily.

She laughed softly. "James is persistent, isn’t he? I got to class early to make sure I got my spot.”

As if on cue, the door to the classroom opened, and Potter’s messy head of hair appeared. His eyes dulled when he noticed Lily sitting next to me. For a moment, his usual smile faltered, the realization that his plan had been thwarted clearly hitting him. He glanced at me, then back at Lily, shaking his head. I stuck my tongue out at him in playful defiance.

James gave me a half-smile, and made his way to the table behind us.

Lily leaned in closer, her side brushing against mine as she whispered, ““Do you need help getting James to leave you alone?”   

I shook my head. “No, he will lose interest eventually.”

She gave me a look before responding. “I doubt that. He has always had his eyes on you.”

I shot her sideways glance. “He was always flirting with you and begging you to date him.”

Her lips curled into a small knowing smile. “Only when I am around you. Which is why I always said no.”  

My eyes widened in disbelief, and I almost laughed. “You’re crazy,”

my voice was just above a whisper now.

But as I took in her words, something shifted inside me. We all knew James potter had been in love with Lily for years- He had practically made a sport out of trying to win her over. But hearing her admit that his attention had only intensified when I was around... it felt strange.

I couldn’t help the flicker of discomfort that passed through me at the thought. Why would he suddenly change tactics? I was still convinced he was playing a prank.

Lily nudged me gently, “You’re not as oblivious as you pretend to be, you know.”

I sighed, trying to ignore the strange, fluttering feeling in my stomach. “I’m not oblivious. I just don’t want to deal with it.”

She chuckled softly, her voice full of affection. “You don’t have to deal with it alone. Just know I’m here for you, alright?”

I gave her a grateful smile, leaning in to whisper back, “Thanks, Lil I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Her smile softened, and she gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze.

The Gryffindor common room was warm and bustling with activity, the fire crackling in the hearth and casting flickering shadows across the walls. Groups of students gathered in clusters, laughing and chatting, while others bent over homework or played games. I had tucked myself away in a corner near the window, the happy buzzing fading into background noise as I doodled in my notebook.

I glanced up when I heard Potters voice, a playful lilt as he joked with Sirius on their way in. My heart sank. My shoulders stiffened, and I hunched further over my parchment, praying he’d move along. Surely, he wouldn’t notice me here.

He made eye contact with me immediately, as if he knew I was there.

The room seemed to hush around me, or perhaps it was just my nerves heightening as his footsteps grew closer.

“I need to talk to you,” he said, stopping beside my chair. There was a resolve in his eyes. Potter was determined right now.

I didn’t make eye contact. “Whatever it is, I’m not interested.”

But he didn’t move. Instead, he crouched slightly to meet my gaze, his usual grin replaced by a more serious expression. “I mean it. Can we talk?”

My patience snapped. My chair scraped against the stone floor as I stood up. “I’m not sure what you and your group are up to,” I said, my voice low.

“But stay away from me. I am not something to play with and laugh at.”

“That’s not what—”

I didn’t want to hear what he had to say. It was probably all lies anyway.

“Save it, Potter,” I cut him off, crossing my arms tightly over my heart.

The usual noise of the common room seemed to fade entirely. I just wanted to be left alone, to return to the peace of being forgotten by most. I was here to get an education, to keep my head down, and leave this castle behind.

His expression faltered, just for a second, before he squared his shoulders. “It’s not a joke. I’m not—”

“I don’t care, I just want to be left alone.”

He sighed, dragging a hand through his messy hair, a nervous tic I’d seen countless times now. “You think I’d go through all this trouble for a joke? You think I’d—”

Potter stopped talking when my eyes flicked to Sirius, who was lounging on one of the sofas, smirking like he found the entire situation hilarious. A look of understanding crossed James’s features.

“Please, Sunshine” his voice softer now, almost pleading. His hand reached out, grasping my wrist as I turned to walk away his fingers brushing against my pulse. “Listen to me.”

I froze, my pulse quickening, but not from fear. No not from fear.

“We aren’t playing some joke. Sirus is always around as moral support. He is a shitty wingman.”

Sirus let out an offended noise.

“Let me go,” I hissed, narrowing my eyes at him. “I don’t trust you.”

When he didn’t release my wrist, I glared and flipped him off with my free hand. His lips twitched, almost into a smile, but the determination in his gaze didn’t waver.

“Go ahead and flip me off, love,” his voice tinged with quiet resolve. “I’ll prove to you that I’m serious.”

The words hung between us like a dare, his amber eyes searching mine for some crack in the wall I’d so carefully built. I was stunned into silence. This wasn’t the James Potter I’d come to expect—the grinning troublemaker who lived for attention and pranks. This was different.

“Prove what?” I said flatly, more a statement than a question.  

“That I really really like you,” he replied, his grip on my wrist loosening but not quite letting go. “I’m not playing games. I know I’ve been... annoying.”

An understatement.

“But I need you to know that I’m not doing this to mess with you.”

I snorted, though the sound lacked conviction. “You’re always messing with someone, Potter.”

“Not you,” he said softly.

That stopped me cold. There was no smirk, no teasing edge, just the quiet insistence of his words and the weight of his gaze.

I shook my head, pulling my hand free.

“You don’t have to believe me now,” he said as I stepped back. “But I’ll prove it to you.”

I paused, my heart inexplicably skipping a beat. Then, without another word, I turned and walked away, leaving him standing there.

Things weren’t like before when James Potter was just an annoyance— a loud self-assured presence that demanded attention. Whether you wanted to give it to him or not. No, something was different now, and I was having a hard time making sense of it.

He stopped pestering me in class. There was no interrupting my study sessions or tossing out cheesy pickup lines. Instead, he was actually helping me in class, gave me space when I asked for it, and didn’t push my buttons just for the fun of it.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had flipped him off, and strangely I did miss it.

Part of me hated the change. It felt like losing an old habit. But the other half of me was enjoying the calm side of him. The side of James that was almost thoughtful. Maybe he really wasn’t doing it all for attention or laughs.

I was hidden between bookshelves, shelving the books I no longer needed when I caught the unmistakable sound of Sirus’s voice. It was loud and drifting from a nearby table.

Eavesdropping was bad. I knew that. But my curiosity was piqued and so I took small slow steps, careful to not make a sound.

“She is a lost cause” Sirus was saying, his tone almost sarcastic.

Who is she? Was the ‘she’ me?

“I mean it, James. She always flipping you off and has a permanent scowl. Its hopeless mate.”

Ahh so the she was definitely me. My heart twinged in a way I didn’t expect. I did flip Potter off a lot, but hearing Sirus dismiss me so easily stung.

“Sirus.” James’s tone came out as a warning. “You don’t know her, and you are crossing a line.”

Sirius paused, his grin faltering as he looked at James with a raised hand. “Alright, alright, no need to get all protective. I was just making a point.”

James didn’t respond, his jaw set as he turned back to his parchment, the tension in his shoulders lingered as his quill scratched along the paper.

I ducked back behind the shelf, my heart racing for reasons I did not want to admit. James had defended me to his best friend. Made it clear I wasn’t someone he could get a laugh at.

James wasn’t as bad as I thought he was. There was more to him then the playful antics and relentless charm. And I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about that.

James had gotten hurt during quidditch practice last night. Lily had casually mentioned he was being kept in the hospital wing for observation. Apparently, they were worried that his head injury was worse than it seemed. 

I hated to admit it, but I was worried about him. An annoying flutter in my chest came at the thought of him laying there injured and alone. But how could I just go visit him? Just showing up out of nowhere would seem odd. Especially after I spent so much energy convincing myself, and everyone else, that I couldn’t stand him.

When my notes tumbled out of my bag I had tossed to the side, I found my excuse.

I will make copies of my notes.

 Its practical.

Thoughtful.

Not suspicious.

It wasn’t long before I found myself standing in the doorway of the hospital wing, clutching the freshly copied notes nervously. I should leave. This was stupid. Remus would have notes for him when he was released. He didn’t need me.

Before I could back out the door he saw me. His eyes lit up and lips curved upwards into a smile despite the cut on his lip.

“Sunshine, you came to visit.” His voice was warm.

 “Don’t flatter yourself,” I shot back, waving the notes at him. “McGonagall asked me to bring these.”

He smirked seeing right through my lie.

“Did she?” he asked, leaning forward slightly. He winced at the motion, and before I could think I was at his bedside.

“Stop moving, you are going to make things worse.” I scolded.

James raised his hands up in mock surrender. “Yes ma’am.”

Rolling my eyes I hesitated for a moment before sitting on the edge of the bed. Up close the injury looked worse. A dark bruise was peeking out over the top of the bandage. A quick pang of sympathy ran through me.

James must have noticed my expression, because his pupils softened.

“You know,” he said a teasing lilt to his tone, but nothing over the top. “I’d get hurt more often if it meant you’d visit me like this.”

Without warning I reached out, brushing his stray curls away from his forehead. They were softer than I had expected.

“Don’t be stupid,” I muttered, handing him the notes.

As he reached out to take them, his fingers brushed against mine. The contact was brief, but it sent a jolt through me. I pulled my hand back immediately, pretending to adjust the hem of my sleeve.

“You’re ridiculous,” my words lacked their usual bite.

“Ridiculously happy to see you.” he countered, grinning in that familiar, infuriating way.

Groaning, I shifted to stand up, but his hand caught mine, gently pulling me back down. This time, I didn’t pull away. I let his fingers curl around mine.  

“Thanks for coming,” His thumb brushed lightly against the back of my hand, a gesture so simple and tender that it caught me off guard.

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry.

“It’s just notes.”

“It’s more than that,” he replied, his eyes holding mine. “It means something.”

I didn’t know how to respond, so I let the silence stretch between us. When I finally pulled my hand away so he could rest, I missed the warmth of his touch.

“Well,” I said, standing. “Don’t get used to it.”

“We’ll see about that.” He winked.

“Get some rest Potter.”

“What will it take for you to call me James?”  

I paused at the foot of his bed, glancing back at him with a smirk.

 “We will just have to see,” I quipped.

Something had shifted, and there was no going back.

The biting cold of the Forbidden Forest seeped through my robes as I stumbled over a twisted root. I barley caught myself before face planting into the dirt. My wand was clenched into a death grip, the dim glow of Lumos casting a little more then a pale circle of light. Shadows stretched in every direction, distorting the trees into looming specters. It was an endless sea of black.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Brilliant,” I grumbled to myself attempting to lighten my mood with sarcasm. “Absolutely brilliant.”

Class had ended ages ago. The castle was surely alive with the hum of dinner, but I was lost, hungry and beyond exhausted. My arm throbbed where I had scraped it against a jagged branch, and panic began to set in. Now would be a great time for James to magically appear like he always did.

A sudden rustle nearby caused me to freeze in place. My heart was beating against my ribs rapidly. I slowly moved the light in the direction the sound came from.

There was a low growl from somewhere in the darkness. My breath caught in my throat. I was going to die here.

And I ran.

I didn’t know where I was going, but staying felt like an early invite to my grave. Twigs snapped under my feet; the cold air stung my face.

A bright white beam of light pierced through the trees, and a frantic voice followed.

“Sunshine, where are you?”

Relief flooded through the me my knees buckled.

“I’m here!” I called out my voice trembling. I was going to cry.

The growling stopped abruptly, and there was hurried footsteps making their way to me.

James burst into view, his wand raised high, and his hair was a mess more so then usual. His white button up was disheveled and stained, as if he had plowed through every branch in his path to get to me. His wild eyes locked on mine, and his entire body sagged with visible relief.

But only for a moment.

In a heartbeat, his hands were gripping my shoulders, his gaze scanning me from head to toe.

“Are you hurt?”  he demanded, his tone rough with worry.

Before I could answer his hands moved to my face, gently pushing back stray strands of hair. His touch was warm, a stark contrast to the icy air. A shiver ran through me, though I wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or something else.

I shook my head, trying to find my voice.

“I’m fine.” I whispered.

“Merlin’s beard,” he muttered, pulling me into a tight, impulsive hug.

The sudden contact startled me. James Potter, the boy who loved a good laugh at my expense, was hugging me like his life depended on it. His arms were strong and steady, and for a moment, the situation didn’t feel so terrifying.

I didn’t pull away. Instead, I let myself sink into the warmth of him. My hands found their way to his back, clutching the fabric of his shirt as I breathed in the scent of sandalwood and vanilla.

“You scared the hell out of me.”  He mumbled into my hair.

James was the first to pull away, his hands lingering on my arms looking me over again. Like he was checking for hidden injuries.

“You have a cut.”

The way he said it was so soft I almost missed it.

I’d forgotten about it until he mentioned it. Glancing at my arm, I saw the dried blood and torn sleeve. “It’s nothing,” I said quickly, not wanting to make a fuss. “I just need to clean it.”

James frowned, clearly not satisfied with my answer. He stepped closer, holding his wand up to examine it. The warmth of him was back, his presence grounding me.

“What are you even doing out here alone?” he demanded, exasperation creeping into his tone.  

“I—I got lost,” My cheeks burned at my admission. “I was late for class, and I thought I found a shortcut.”

He stared at me like I’d grown a second head. “A shortcut? Through the Forbidden Forest?” His voice rose slightly, incredulous. “Do you have any idea how dangerous—” He cut himself off, running a hand through his already messy hair yanking on it a bit.

“I didn’t mean to cause a panic,” I said quickly. “Or waste your time.”

James froze, his jaw tightening. For a moment, he said nothing, his wand hand trembling slightly as he lowered it. “Waste my time?” he repeated, his voice low, almost bewildered.

I winced.  

“Waste my time?” he said again, his words sharper this time. He stepped closer, his eyes locking onto mine with a fire I hadn’t seen before.

“Sorry.” I squeaked out. 

The way he was acting caught me off guard. I looked over his shoulder and into the dark, the weight of his concern was overwhelming.

I figured the only person who would notice me missing was Lily.

“Don’t you get it?” His hands found my face again, his thumbs brushing over my cheeks. “I know you don’t believe it, but I care about you. You stubborn, brilliant, infuriating woman. That’s why I came running the second I heard you were missing.”

My breath hitched, the weight of his words crashing into me like a wave. His touch was gentle, grounding, but his gaze was unrelenting, raw, and unguarded.

After a long moment, he pulled back slightly and extended a hand. “Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s get out of here before you catch your death.”

I hesitated, my eyes lingering on his outstretched hand before placing mine in his. His grip was firm, steady, and when his fingers curled around mine, they held on like he was afraid I might disappear.

As we walked through the trees, his thumb brushed lightly against the back of my hand—a quiet reassurance that made my chest ache in a way I wasn’t ready to examine.

For the first time, James Potter didn’t feel like an annoyance. He felt like a lifeline.

Gryffindor won the quidditch game. Our common room was alive with the hum of celebration. Streamers of crimson and gold were lazily thrown up around the space. Cheers erupted from everyone when the team entered the crowded dance area.

I stood off to the side, cradling an empty cup, at the edge of the room away from the crowd. Lily, was perched in the chair beside me. She laughed at a first-year attempting to smuggle an oversized barrel of butterbeer across the room. A sixth-year intercepted it with a laugh, stowing it out of reach.

It was enough to distract me from the figure weaving through the crowd.

James.

He towered over most of the cluster of people, his curly hair unmistakable, still damp from the post-match shower. His Quidditch jersey clung to his frame, the number on his back catching the light. He looked every bit the victorious captain, and the sight of him sent an uninvited warmth through my chest.

“What’s with the brooding? We just won! You should be grinning like that prat over there.” Lily asked shoving a full glass in my hand. She pointed to James who was laughing with his gaggle of friends.

“I’m not brooding,” I replied, taking a sip. “Just enjoying the chaos from a safe distance.”

“If that’s what you want to believe.” She winked, already dancing away toward the center of the room.

James appeared in front of me, his grin widening when our eyes met.

“There you are, Sunshine. Thought you’d gone into hiding.”

That warm, teasing lilt had become as familiar as the sound of my own heartbeat.

“Someone has to make sure you lot doesn’t burn our living space down.”

He chuckled.

“But, not hiding,” I replied, glancing over his shoulder. “Just... thinking.”

He leaned casually against the wall beside me his foot brushing mine, but there was something softer in his expression tonight. His warm brown eyes held a warmth that sent a flutter through my chest.

“Care to share what’s on your mind?” his tone curious.

I hesitated, swirling the liquid in my glass. “It’s just... a lot to take in. Everything’s been so—different.”

James tilted his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Different how?”

I turned to face him fully, “You. Us. Everything. Just three months ago, I couldn’t stand you.”

“And now?” he asked, his voice quieter, the teasing edge gone.

I bit my lip, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze. “Now... I’m not sure I ever did.”

His grin widened, but it wasn’t cocky or self-assured like the ones he used to flash at me in the past. This one was softer, filled with something that made my heart ache in the best way.

“I’d say that’s progress,” he murmured, stepping closer. His hand reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered, against my skin.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “You’re not going to make a big speech about how you knew I’d come around eventually, are you?”

He chuckled, the sound low and comforting. “Not tonight.”

“Good.”

We stayed there for a moment, neither of us speaking. His eyes brighter then usual.

“Enjoying the celebration?” he asked trying to act casual about my confession.

“It’s... lively,” I said, unable to hide a small smile.

He raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “We just crushed Slytherin, I think it’s more than lively.”

I shrugged, taking a sip of my butterbeer. “It was a decent match.”

I couldn’t help but tease him.

“Decent?” He leaned forward, his knees pressing more firmly against mine. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I can’t make things to easy for you Potter.”  

His grin softened, and for a moment, the noise of the room seemed to fade. “You never do.”

James moved back a half step. “Take a walk with me?”

“Ok.”  

He didn’t ask just grabbed my hand navigating us through the crowd. We didn’t stop walking till we were outside strolling through a field of grass.  The stars were bright and beautiful tonight.  It was almost romantic.

“You know,” he began, his tone light, “I was thinking.”

“Dangerous territory,” I teased, the corners of my mouth lifting.

He laughed, the sound warm and familiar. “Maybe. But I was wondering what it might take for you to stop calling me Potter.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What will it take for you to stop calling me Sunshine?”

He grinned, pulling me closer. “Never. That’s non-negotiable.”

“Then I guess you’re stuck with ‘Potter.’”

He hummed thoughtfully, lacing our fingers together. The simple gesture sent a comforting sensation coursing through me that no spell could replicate.

“What makes you think you’ve earned us being on a first name basis?”

“Scoring the winning goal isn’t enough?” he asked, mock-offended.

“Not even close.”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to make my stomach flutter. “Then what if I told you I’d do whatever it takes?”

“You are persistent.” I laughed.

“Only for you.”

 James usual playful retorts absent in his tone.

I looked up at him, my breath catching at the way his eyes searched mine.

“Maybe just maybe I don’t mind that anymore.” I added, just loud enough for him to hear.

His grin returned, but this time it was softer, almost shy. “Does that mean I can finally take you on that first date?”

I hummed tapping my chin, pretending to think about it. “Maybe.”

I had the teasing tone now.

He laughed, his thumb brushing against my hand. The world seemed to still as he leaned in, stopping just short of my lips. The question in his eyes was unmistakable. I nodded, barely visible.

When his lips met mine, it was like every piece of the puzzle I hadn’t known was missing finally clicked into place. His hand came up to cradle my cheek, the kiss warm and steady, filled with a kind of tenderness I hadn’t realized he was capable of.

When we pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, and I felt his smile against my skin.

“Finally,” he whispered, his breath tickling my nose.

I giggled shaking my head. “Don’t ruin the moment, Potter.”

“James,” he corrected.

“James,” I echoed, and it felt right in a way I couldn’t explain.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t hide my smile. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Never.” He placed a quick kiss on my lips. 

[prinvessdior]

Three times you ask Kinich for something and the one time he asks for something.

tags: first person soz, bff! Mualani, I forgot ab Ajaw lol, y/n has a vision, established relationship, first kiss, just cute as hell, ft. me trying to write romantic tension.

wc: 3.6k

a/n: idk,, i think he needs more fics but yes crossposted on ao3 still editing as well

feel free to leave me req or msgs for any charc <3!

◣──•~❉᯽❉~•──◢

I think this was the fifth time I had water up my nose this afternoon. Or maybe it was the sixth, definitely. My nose and throat burned as I gasped for air above the water. My surfboard flung up beside me with another slap of water to my face. I hoisted myself back up to sit over my borrowed board. Mualani let me borrow one of her old ones from childhood. Since I'd never been able to surf. I wrung out my hair over my shoulder. "This is so hard," I whined to Mualani who padded over on her own board over to me.

Mualani only laughed, laying down on her stomach, "You're doing fine for a beginner." I doubted it. "Keep practicing, maybe you could finally convince Kinich to come to swim." 

I snorted and rolled my eyes, "Yeah like that'll happen."  

Mualani giggled, "He's a lost cause. Maybe if you asked him nicely, he might change his mind," she teased, sending me a look with a knowing smile. 

"I don't think a simple 'please' will do the trick," I retorted, paddling my board backward in the shallows. "He'd probably just come up with some excuse like 'I don't want to get my clothes wet' or something, and then go back to what he was doing," I grumbled.

Mualani snickered. "He can be such a diva sometimes. It's like he's scared to have any fun. I don’t know how you can date a guy like that."

She was being dramatic. He wasn’t that bad. I’ve known practically everyone since I was a kid, I know the ins and outs. Kinich just.. more so liked to keep to himself. I didn’t mind it though it really seemed like we had just become really good friends now even after putting a relationship title on us. 

"Though I'm sure he'd do anything you asked," Mualani says with a nod

I quickly looked away.

"Don't be ridiculous," I mumbled, "Kinich doesn't listen to anyone, let alone me." I quickly looked away.

Mualani gave me a knowing smile. "Oh come on, don't pretend you haven't noticed the way he looks at you. That boy is absolutely smitten with you."

I tried to feign indifference, though my heart thumped in my chest. "He doesn't look at me any differently than he looks at everyone else."

Mualani raised an eyebrow. "Are you serious? He's practically drooling every time you're around. And he always insists on helping you with anything you need, no matter how menial."

I shifted uncomfortably in my waterlogged swimsuit. "That's just who he is. He's like that with everyone. He's just...a good guy." I don’t think I wanted to spill my guts with my best friend about my relationship just yet.

Mualani rolled her eyes. "You can be so clueless sometimes. Trust me on this."

I huffed, pushing my soaked hair out of my eyes. "Even if you're right, which you're not, I doubt he'd ever actually do anything about it. Kinich is too aloof to make a move."

Mualani smirked. "That's where I think you're wrong. I've seen the way he stares at you when you're not looking. That boy has it bad. If you ask me, he's just been waiting for the right moment.”

I narrowed my eyes with a laugh, "Sure, and dendro slimes will fly someday. Besides, I can't even imagine Kinich acting all romantic. He's too sarcastic and quippy for mushiness."

Mualani shrugged. "Maybe you should try giving him a hint then. See if he responds. I know he'd be all over you in a heartbeat if he thought he had a chance."

"I don't know, Mualani...he's always been so closed off. It wouldn’t feel natural."

Mualani grinned. "Well, you could always try being a bit more... flirtatious. Give him some nonverbal cues to let him know you're interested. A touch on the arm, a smile, a compliment, something like that. See how he responds."

"Yeah, nope," I said with a determined nod, I'd give up my pyro vision back to our archon before doing something as embarrassing as that.

“C'mon! What’s the harm in it?”

I gave Mualani a pointed look, “The harm is we’ve only been together three months.” 

Mualani groaned, “But you’ve been friends for years!” She emphasized by splashing me with water.

I splashed her back, “I don’t expect anything from Kinich, Lani, I’m fine with what we have now.” 

“Yeah, but, did you ask him that? Maybe he wants to be closer with you.” 

Okay, yeah maybe I hadn’t thought about that. I paused mid-splash attack. “Oh.” 

Another splash of water to my face, as I tipped sideways losing balance sitting on my surfboard. I tipped straight into the water making another splash for the seventh time. 

Mualani was laughing when I arose from the surface. “Just try it. It’s not like he’ll outright reject you.” 

I gave Mualani a glare, “I’m going to go change. I’m done learning today.” 

“Ouchie, you really know how to burn me.” Mualani sighs with a dramatic expression. 

“Insanity.” I mumbled padding back to the shore with my best friend trailing behind me. Still making dramatic plans about how to get my boyfriend to be more open. I was not listening as she rambled all the way back to my house. 

◣──•~❉᯽❉~•──◢

I liked living right beside the hot springs. Even the ones that weren’t heated were usually the ones I gravitated towards. Given that Natlan was already hot, I never remembered my normal body temperature being this hot before I received my Pyro vision. 

But right now, I think I was jealous of Cyro Vision users. Kachina had requested my help near her tribe. She wanted to collect flowers among herbs, and fruits for the traveler to help her gain enough confidence to enter into the night warden wars. 

But it was too hot, and I was craving a bath. Being drenched in sweat was horrible. I didn’t want to complain in front of Kachina so I continued to follow her, we’d strayed far from The Children of The Echo’s tribe. 

“Do you think this is enough?” I asked the smaller girl once we’d stopped near a stream. 

“Uh-! I-.. I think so!” Kachina reached her arms up to take the fruits nestled in my bag. I happily let her take it as I took a seat near the stream for a much-needed breather. 

“Great, I’m just gonna.. sit down for a while.” 

Kachina gave me a nod with a bright smile. Which in turn made me smile. I felt like a big sister whenever I was with Kachina. It made it better that she was so smart and easy to talk to. I closed my eyes as a gust of wind helped cool my sweltering face. 

Kachina sat down beside me, dipping her toes into the water. “Thank you for helping me today, I really appreciate it.”

I smiled, grateful for the respite. “Of course, Kachina. It’s the least I can do. The Traveler did so much for you.”

She nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Yeah, they really did. I wouldn’t have had the courage to join the Night Warden Wars without their support.”

We sat by the stream, the cool water lapping at my feet, and my mind drifted back to what Mualani had said the day before. Could it really be that simple? Just say please? I found myself lost in a whirlwind of emotions as the cool water of the stream rippled around me. 

“Y/n? Y/n!” Kachina’s voice broke through my reverie, pulling me back to the present.

”Huh.” I blinked, realizing she was talking to someone. I turned to see Kinich standing there, looking a bit awkward but smiling warmly. 

“Hey, Y/n,” he greeted, his voice a little uncertain. “Are you okay?”

I forced a smile, trying to shake off my embarrassment. “Oh, hey, Kinich. Yeah, I’m fine. Just, you know, dying of the heat,” I joked, fanning myself dramatically.

He chuckled, his eyes softening. “Yeah, it’s pretty brutal today.” He turned to me and narrowed his eyes. “Should you really be out here for much longer? You don’t look so good.”

Before I could respond, Kachina’s face fell, and she quickly apologized. “Oh no, I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize you weren’t feeling well. I shouldn’t have taken you so far.”

I shook my head, giving her a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Kachina. I wanted to come out and help you. Really.”

She still looked worried, but I could see she was trying to believe me. I took a deep breath, deciding albeit hesitantly that if I were to test Mualani’s theory. Any time would be the best time “Kinich, could you please get me some water from the stream? I think it would help me cool down.”

To my surprise, he didn’t hesitate. Without a single sarcastic comment or playful tease, he nodded and walked over to the stream. The next thing I felt was the cool, wet rag on my forehead, and sighed in relief. Kinich's gentle touch was comforting as he helped me sit back down. My body was still cooling off from Natlan’s scorching heat.

"Thank you, Kinich," I said, looking up at him with a small smile.

He smiled back, though it was more a twitch of lips upwards, his eyes warm. "It was no problem at all. Just take it easy for a bit."

I nodded, leaning back into the grass. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kachina watching us. She seemed to be trying hard not to look awkward, and I couldn't help but find it endearing.

"Are you okay, Y/n?" Kachina asked, her voice filled with genuine concern.

"Yeah, I think so," I replied, giving her a reassuring smile. "Just a bit... overwhelmed, I guess."

Kachina nodded, her cheeks flushing slightly. "You two are really cute together," she blurted out, then immediately looked like she regretted it.

Kinich chuckled softly, and I felt my own cheeks flush. "Thanks, Kachina," I said, trying to ease her embarrassment. 

She smiled, looking a bit more relaxed. "Well, if you need anything, I'm here to help."

"Thanks," I said, appreciating her kindness. "I think I'll be okay now."

Kinich gave my hand a gentle squeeze. "Just rest for a bit. I'll be right here."

I nodded, feeling a little lightheaded. Not from the heat though. As I leaned back, feeling the coolness of the rag on my forehead, my mind wandered to Mualani’s words. Maybe she was right.

◣──•~❉᯽❉~•──◢

A couple of days later, I found myself in Xilonen’s shop, surrounded by shelves filled with various trinkets and artifacts. The air was filled with the scent of herbs and old parchment, a comforting reminder of the past. Xilonen and I were busy organizing her shop, a task that felt both familiar and soothing.

“Thanks for helping out, Y/n,” Xilonen said, her voice warm. “I’ve been meaning to get this place in order for ages.”

“No problem,” I replied, placing a stack of scrolls on a nearby shelf. “It’s nice to catch up. We haven’t had much time together since the war ended.”

She nodded a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Yeah, things have been so hectic. But it’s good to see you. How have you been holding up?”

I shrugged, trying to keep my tone light. “I’ve been okay. Just trying to figure things out, you know?”

Xilonen smiled knowingly. “I get it. It’s been a strange time for all of us. But I’m glad you’re here. It feels like old times.”

We continued to work in comfortable silence for a while, the rhythm of our movements almost meditative. As we sorted through a box of ancient artifacts, Xilonen suddenly looked up, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “So, I heard a little rumor that you and Kinich are dating now. Is it true?” Probably from Mualani...

I felt my face heat up slightly but nodded. “Yeah, it’s true.”

Xilonen grinned. “I knew it! How’s that going? I mean, considering how Kinich… is.”

I chuckled, understanding what she meant. “It’s going fine, actually. He’s been really sweet and supportive. It’s still new, but we’re figuring it out.”

She nodded, her expression softening. “That’s good to hear. Kinich can be ahh.. how do I put this? Blunt? but he has a good heart.”

“Yeah, he does,” I agreed, feeling a warm glow at the thought of him. “He’s been really great.”

we continued to clean, the door to the shop opened, and Kinich walked in. His eyes immediately found mine, and he smiled warmly Again, just the hint of his lips turning at the corners. “Hey, Y/n,” he greeted, then turned to Xilonen. “Xilonen.”

“Hey, Kinich,” I replied, feeling a flutter of happiness at seeing him.

Xilonen gave him a playful look. “Didn’t expect to see Y/n here, huh?”

Kinich chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah, I was a bit surprised. What’s going on?”

Xilonen rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh, so I can’t see my friend for a day? I asked Y/n to help me clean up since it’s been a while.”

Kinich nodded, looking a bit awkward. “Right, of course. Well, it’s good you both are here. I actually came by to let you know that someone from The Children of the Echos commissioned me for a project, so I don’t have much time to chat.”

“That’s great, What kind of project?” genuinely wanting to know

He shrugged, a small smile on his face. “It’s a bit of a mystery for now, but I’ll fill you in later.”

Xilonen smirked. “Always keeping secrets, huh?”

Kinich laughed. “Something like that. Anyway, I just wanted to say hi. I’ll catch up with you both later.”

It was the perfect time to test Mualani's theory further. I spotted an item on a high shelf that I couldn't reach and decided to ask Kinich for help.

"Kinich, could you please help me get that down?" I called out, pointing to a random scroll.

He stopped talking to Xilonen almost instantly and came up behind me. "Sure, what do you need?" he asked, his voice so, so close to my ear.

I pointed at the scroll again. "That one, right up there."

Without hesitation, Kinich reached over my head and grabbed it, his arm brushing against mine. He handed it to me with a smile. "Here you go."

"Thanks," I said, feeling a bit flustered by how quickly he had responded.

"No problem," he replied. "I have to go now, but I'll see you later." He turned to Xilonen and me, giving us both a quick nod. "Goodbye, Xilonen. Bye, Y/n."

"Bye, Kinich," we both said in unison as he left the shop.

As the door closed behind him, Xilonen turned to me with a curious look. "What was that? I've never seen Kinich act like that before."

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. "I don't know. Maybe he's just being extra helpful today."

Xilonen raised an eyebrow. "Extra helpful, huh? Well, whatever it is, it's definitely interesting."

I smiled,  Maybe Mualani was onto something after all.

“I should get going too,” I said, giving Xilonen a hug. “Thanks for today. It was really nice to catch up.”

"Oh yeah totally! I can handle the rest here. Also, come by anytime,” she replied, hugging me back. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

“I won’t,” I promised, smiling as I headed out the door.

◣──•~❉᯽❉~•──◢

I found myself back at Mualani’s place, surfboard in hand and ready for another lesson. Mualani was determined to teach me how to surf, and I was equally determined to make her proud, even if it meant a few more wipeouts.

“Hey, ‘Lani!” I greeted her, adjusting my swimsuit as I approached. “Ready for another round?”

Mualani grinned, her eyes always sparkling with excitement. “Always! But first, tell me have you been messing with Kinich? He’s been super quiet. More than usual.”

I laughed, setting my surfboard down. “Really? That’s funny. I’ve been testing your theory. It’s been interesting, to say the least. I really don’t think he’s reacting. He’s doing things any normal boyfriend would do.”

She nodded enthusiastically. “You absolutely need to keep it up. Yesterday he looked like he was going to explode.”

I snorted a laugh Mualani clapped her hands together. “Alright, enough talk. Let’s hit the waves!”We headed down to the beach, the sound of the ocean filling the air.

As we paddled out, Mualani and I chatted about everything and nothing, enjoying the easy flow of conversation. Suddenly, someone from the tribe called out to Mualani, needing her assistance with something urgent.

Mualani sighed, giving me an apologetic look. “Duty calls. Just focus on balancing on the board for now, okay? I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Got it!” I called, watching as she paddled back to the shore.

Left to my own devices, I paddled out to the shallow part of the water. I stood up on the board, feeling the gentle sway of the ocean beneath me. Balancing was tricky, but I was determined to get the hang of it. I took a deep breath, focusing on keeping my stance steady.

The sun was warm on my skin, and the sound of the waves was soothing.

My balance wavered, and I tumbled into the water with a splash. As I surfaced, sputtering and wiping the saltwater from my eyes, I heard a familiar voice.

"Having trouble there?" Kinich asked, a teasing smile on his face.

I felt my cheeks heat up with embarrassment. "Maybe just a little," I admitted, trying to laugh it off.

He chuckled, wading over to me. "Here, let me help you." He reached out, steadying me as I stood up in the water. His hands were firm but gentle, and I felt a bit more stable with his support.

"Thanks," I mumbled reeling from the taste of saltwater, feeling self-consciousness.

"No problem," he replied, still holding my surfboard, "Everyone falls sometimes. It's part of the learning process."

I nodded, appreciating his encouragement. "Yeah, I guess so."

He handed me the board, his eyes warm with amusement. "Just keep at it. You'll get the hang of it."

The sun glinted off the water as I turned towards Kinich, curiosity, and anxiety bubbling with the ripples of the water.

“Kinich,” I called out, voice catching the wind.

“Would you help me with this, please? I mean, with keeping my balance on the board?”

His gaze softened, and without a word, he nodded. With practiced ease, he dropped the surfboard into the water, and it settled with a small splash. Approaching me, he placed his hands gently around my waist, lifting me as if I weighed nothing.

My heart beat wildly, like drums against my chest—not just from the thrill, but from the intimate touch. Kinich’s hands lingered longer than necessary as he steadied me on the board, fingers warm against her skin through the thin fabric of my swimsuit. His grip was firm, yet tender, as though he was acutely aware of his strength and its effect.

“This good?” he asked, voice low, almost a whisper. It sent shivers down my spine, as I nodded, unable to find my voice. So instead I nodded, slowly.

Once Kinich was convinced Ihad found my balance, he slowly let go. For a few moments, I managed to stay upright, it was my triumph. But the waves had other plans. The board wobbled violently beneath my feet, and with a startled yelp, I lost my footing. In the blink of an eye, I grabbed onto Kinich, pulling him down with me. We both plunged into the cool embrace of the ocean. Breaking the surface, I wiped the water from my eyes, only to be met with the sight of a thoroughly drenched and disheveled Kinich. My initial shock dissolved into a fit of giggles. 

“I am so sorry!” I gasped between laughs, noticing the way his usually calm demeanor was replaced with a mixture of surprise a cute scowl. “You look... upset.”

Kinich’s expression softened, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile. “Upset with you? Never.”

His eyes held mine, a glint of mischief playing in their sunsets. “Actually,” he continued, his voice low and sincere, “since you’ve been asking so politely, I thought I might as well ask the same... Can I please kiss you?”

Time seemed to pause as his words settled over. The world faded around us, leaving just the two of us in that perfect, sunlit moment. I barely managed a nod.

Kinich's lips met mine with a tenderness that took my breath away. The kiss was soft, almost hesitant as if he was savoring the moment, afraid it might slip away too soon. His hands, still resting on my hips, tightened slightly, pulling closer but never forcefully. 

I felt the warmth of his touch through the cool water, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on my revealed skin. The world around us seemed to fade, leaving only the sensation of his lips on mine and the steady rhythm of our breaths mingling. 

As the kiss deepened, Kinich's hand moved to cradle my face, his thumb brushing lightly against my cheekbone. It was a gesture of pure affection, a silent promise of his care and respect. I responded in kind, my own hands finding their way to his shoulders, feeling the strength and warmth beneath my fingertips.

When we finally pulled apart, he rested his forehead against mine, heavy breaths mingling in the space between us. Kinich's eyes searched mine, a soft smile playing on his lips. Before he frowned.

"Now please stop saying please," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the gentle lapping of the waves. "I can't take it anymore."

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐒𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐘, 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐀 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄 ! ❞

❝ HONESTLY, I CAN'T BELIEVE I GET TO CALL YOU MINE !! ❞

✧ pairing: professor! suguru geto x reader

✧ summary: it's your first valentine's day as a couple with suguru, but he's away for a conference in another city -- and you understand you do, but you can't help but miss him -- so what happens when he ends up surprising you?

✧ warnings: so fluffy!!, suggestive, mentions of nsfw, implications of smut, reader has graduated from her program, set after the events of the main series (including every part), these two idiots are so in love its ridiculous, lingerie mention, wearing his glasses and button down

✧ wc: 1,206

“I’m sorry I have to be away,” you smile at Suguru through the screen, knowing that you’d kiss his furrowed brow away if he was here, before finding his lips with yours. “This conference was last minute, I wish I didn’t have to go, but Yaga left me little choice but to go,” 

You shake your head, “We can celebrate when you come back, it’s not a big deal anyway. Just means you have more to make up for on White Day,” you tease, and he laughs, a smile on his lips for the first time the entire call, “don’t worry ok? I’m really not upset,” 

“I know, it’s just our first Valentines together and I know you had planned something for us. I really wanted it to be special,” his lips purse, arms crossed as he looks almost utterly hopeless (far too cute) and you can’t help but chuckle, “what?” 

“Never thought my hardass professor could be such a romantic,” you smirk, as his cheeks are tinted with a lovely red, “should I be giving you a poor grade for your tardiness?” 

He rolls his eyes, as his lips curl again in a smile that can’t seem to escape your presence, “Well, while I’ll definitely be making it up with some extra credit, I’d appreciate my favorite student to cut me a little slack,” 

“I recall you cutting me very little slack that first day,” 

“On the contrary, I think I was very kind, especially considering you were late to the very first class—“ 

“And what is this weekend?” You say in mock thought, “our first Valentine’s Day?” He huffs, and you smile in victory, “is this the first headache I’ve given you?” 

“Today? Yes,” and you gape at him, and it’s his turn to smirk, “I love you,” 

And your gaze grows soft, “I love you too, call me after the conference is done for today?” 

“You know I will,” and you both share your goodbyes and you’re left by yourself, as you lay back on your bed, a pout on your lips. Suguru had offered to let you stay at his place, but you know it would have only made you miss him more — being surrounded by his things, his scent, his clothes. You sighed as you buried your face in your pillow, glancing at the picture the two of you had taken in Kyoto at one of the local shrines, almost taunting you. 

He’d be back soon enough — right? 

Sorry I haven’t been able to call again. It’s been a lot of late nights — too many networking dinners. I’ll call you tonight. 

It has been two nights now, and it was Valentine’s Day tomorrow. You had barely gotten a minute to speak to Suguru since your call with him on Friday. You sighed, sending him a picture of you in his button up you stole, along with his spare glasses he had left at your place, can we have a networking meeting? I’ll send an invite to your calendar. 

I’ll clear my schedule. You smile. 

Another message, as soon as I get back. 

You pout, you expected as much — you shouldn’t have dated such an indemand academic. The horrors of academia. 

You laid back, forearm over your forehead as you stare back at your blank ceiling. It was fine, you really understood that he was busy, but you just — turning on your side to stare at his smiling face in the framed image on your bedside table before your eyes flutter shut — missed him. 

You stir awake to lips pressed at your neck, soft kisses that draw you from the heavy arms of sleep, as your eyes flutter open to see Suguru, at your side. 

“Sugu?” And his fingers trace your jaw, as your brow furrows in confusion, “but isn’t it—“ 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart,” he pulls a bouquet of flowers from behind him — an arrangement of your favorites, as you blink, brain seemingly struggling to keep up, “you okay?” 

Your fingers find his cheek, “is this a dream?” And he chuckles, as he leans down to plant a sweet kiss on your lips, before his fingers lightly pinch your cheek. And you’re sitting up only to jump into his arms, a gasp on his lips, as he chuckles, arms curling around you, raking his fingers through your hair. The bouquet lays forgotten on the side because truly the best gift was in your arms. 

“I missed you too,” he chuckles, as you bury your face in his chest, breathing in his scent, as if he’d disappear any second. 

You lean back to look up at him, “What are you doing back early?” 

“Made a deal with Yaga that I’d go to all the networking events he wanted, if he let me leave last night,” he kisses your forehead, “surprised?” 

“I am, the best surprise,” you find his lips in another kiss, “I was fine with you being busy, but I just missed you so much. It reminded me of all the time we had to spend apart — and I just know I can’t spend another minute without you,” you bite your lip, “I was going to wait until the end of the night, but,” you bite your lip, “I know we discussed moving in before — and I think I’m ready to,” 

He blinks, before a smile breaks out on his lips, “Are you sure?” And you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him, lips sliding against his, as your hands slide back to cup his cheeks. 

You part, barely a breath apart, as you press your forehead against his, “Never been more sure of anything in my life — it’s definitely owed to us now, don’t you think?” 

He snorts, his eyes shining, as he presses another gentle kiss to your forehead, “Should we start looking for a place now?” And you grin, as you climb into his lap, a tilt of your head. 

“Don’t you want your Valentine’s Day gift?” You ghost kisses along his jawline, drawing a gasp from his lips, your hands guiding his own under his shirt you had stolen, “I had worn it last night just to try it on, but now,” you undo a few buttons of his shirt, a hint of red lace peeking through the undone collar. 

His clothed cock twitches through his slacks, as his fingers pull yours away, to undo the last remaining buttons to show a red and pink lingerie set — red lace hugged the outline of body with red hearts dotting along the design, sheer blush fabric left barely anything of your breasts and cunt to the imagination — not that he needed to imagine — he had practically memorized every curve and corner of your body. 

“Well?” And his fingers pull his shirt off of your body, as he’s gotten you pinned to the bed, as you giggle, lips parted, “I also baked you some sweet treats, baby,” 

His lips curl, as he leans down to meet your lips, as his breath warms your lips and his words warm your heart, “There’s only one sweet thing I want, right now.” 

The two of you never did get around to looking for a place together — not until the next day. 

✧ a/n: this was supposed to come out earlier, but i fell asleep because i slept badly last night and ended up reading a manhwa when i got tired of trying to sleep. wrote this fic listening to laufey's valentine :) i also didn't tag everyone since this was kind of a last minute thing - sorry guys <;3

✧ taglist: @spider-fan72, @grunge-mo0n, @ameri-blog, @kentocalls, @peachyminx, @forest-fruits-jam, @hanxyy, @flyingtranscatofeffed, @sunflowmaryam, @regrettinglifechoices, @sugurus-fave-monkey, @atomicbxtch, @shinylightsalad

[onlyswan]

summary: in which you sacrifice your strawberries and eyelash wishes for the boy knocking at your door.

idol!jungkook x reader, strangers to friends (?) to lovers / fluff and a pinch of angst / word count: 5.5k

content/warnings: allusions to death and grief / jungkook is a cutie patootie and a blushing hopeless romantic mess / he wants to kiss oc so bad (me too bro) / oc is a sunshine <3 / they do chores and watch movies together :((( / in one scene he was worried oc would think of him as a perv lmao / they’re dorks and i love them / seokjin cameo hehehe

> in which masterlist!

note: to make up for the pain i may have caused and will cause <3 LOL. i hope you enjoy reading as much as i enjoyed writing :D as always reblogs and feedback are appreciated! come chat w me. ily 🌼

—

“it’s so cold,” you mutter through chattering teeth.

the grocery bags sit on the hardwood table with a thud— the careless bringer too hasty. you shove your icy hands in the deep pockets of your jacket, breathing in and out with a sense of relief.

you are not granted the mundane euphoria for much longer, however. the doorbell rings and you are padding across the floor against your will. the cold air hits your face before it enters your apartment.

however, the happy smile that greets you blankets your heart with a type of warmth that is difficult to describe.

if you had to guess who was behind the door, you wouldn’t say the boy you’ve been fiercely pining over for the past month, but it is certainly who you’d be hoping for regardless.

“good morning!”

“oh! wait there for a moment!”

jungkook stands motionless by your open front door as you disappear into your apartment. confusion accompanied by curiosity, he tries poking his head inside, but then decides that he shouldn’t.

upon your return, his face lights up again.

“here you go!”

he accepts the jar of honey faster than he could think.

“w-why are you-?”

you tilt your head, lips forming a small pout. “isn’t that what you’re here for?”

“uh, actually-” he awkwardly pauses, hand that carries the heavy paper bag behind him suddenly feeling weak. “i came here to give you something.”

your eyes animatedly expand in surprise of the size of it, not at all expecting to receive a gift from him today. you do know that he’s fresh from japan, as you converse on the phone almost everyday… why would he come here almost immediately? and didn’t he say they weren’t given the chance to roam the city because of their work schedule?

“i just grabbed things i thought you might like. i hope i got most of them right?” he explains with a nervous chuckle as you take a look inside.

a diverse array of snacks; a beautiful journal painted with cherry blossoms; a hello kitty plushie; stickers, muji pens…

“oh my god, jungkook… these are too much. you didn’t have to.”

oh, curse the hopeless fluttering of your heart.

“wow, gifting your merch- that’s real idol behavior for you.” you tease him, referring to the hooded jacket that has their group logo on its plastic packaging. “thank you!”

“no but it seriously warms you up! i have one too!”

“jungkook, why are you so cute?!”

“ah, shut up! i’m getting embarrassed!” he whines, blushing. “just look at them later after i leave, how about that?”

“let go! it’s mine!” you glare at him, hugging the paper bag to your chest to deny his advances on snatching it away. “are you not leaving? don’t you have work?”

“i told you— it’s my rest day.”

“you did?”

“while we were texting last night.”

“oh,” you blink. “i don’t remember reading that.”

“you? what are you doing today?”

you bite back the smile threatening to give away the thoughts running in your mind a thousand miles per hour. why does he want to know?

“nothing special. just chores the entire day.”

jungkook puts his hand inside the pocket of his coat, an attempt to appear casual as he offers you his valiant effort. “do you want some help? i’m good at doing chores.”

you stare at him, perplexed, as if he just said the most ridiculous sentence you’ve ever heard in your entire life.

“it’s your rest day and you want to do chores?”

“sure,” he grins playfully, not at all seeing how that could be wrong. “why not?”

“you know…” you pause— observing his expression, considering shutting your mouth, but that plan rarely ever works out. “you can just say that you want to spend time with me, right?”

your bluntness sends his heart racing. you’re a danger to his health.

he sinks his perfect teeth on his bottom lip, bringing his dimples into view. to be honest, you didn’t always have a thing about dimples. you didn’t consider them all that special. but why do they make him look cute and sexy at the same time?

his cheeks become tinted with a pale scarlet. you’re wearing that friendly beam again; he doesn’t know how to act. he never knows whether you are joking or not.

“well, now i know.”

—

jungkook sets down the jar of honey on the table as he settles in the living room, fascinated doe eyes darting around every inch of your place. it’s not his first time here, but somehow, it looks different each time. the two frames hanging above the sofa captures his attention all over again, colorful drawings against the plain white wall. gifted to you by your siblings, you said.

a tall castle with a happy family. a little boy slaying a dragon to protect a princess from its savage fire.

he is blissfully unaware of the knowledge that the drawings are the lone survivors of a school bus and a tragedy. you want it to stay that way. you want people to feel the opposite of the sadness you feel when you look at them. that is how you seek your peace.

“are you wearing toe socks?”

“huh?” he makes a sound of confusion, only processing your question upon seeing your gaze trained to his feet. “ah- toe socks- yes.”

“i’m only noticing them now. they look funny.” you scrunch your nose, chuckling.

“don’t laugh! they’re so comfortable!”

“really?” your eyes widen with genuine interest. “i should try them then.”

“yeah, you should!”

he whips his head around as he jokingly voices out an observation.

“but ____, your house kind of looks different today… it’s almost like it’s cleaner than the last time i was here.”

you bury your face in your hands with a high-pitched wine, hiding from him in humiliation. you did not plan on inviting someone over that night, and he had to watch you run around organizing and picking up things— the scattered books all over the table and the floor; the jackets that have created a big heap on the small couch; the jewelry box that ended up on the dining table for some reason.

he laughs in endearment, unable to take his eyes from you. even the way your hair bounces as you furiously shake your head is pretty. wait, does that sound weird?

“that’s right, it should look different! the first thing i did when winter break started was clean up my mess.”

“what’s the first chore on the list then?” he catches the grocery bags in the kitchen from his peripheral. “were you putting away your groceries?”

“you really want to do chores? you don’t want to watch a movie or something?”

“aigoo, it’s fine!” he waves off your reluctance. “stop worrying! i already said i’d help you.”

“but it’s embarrassing…”

it’s either jungkook is denying your advances or he is simply dense. but the fact that he showed up at your door unannounced on his day-off despite complaining about his exhaustion from their hectic work schedule, you want to lean towards the latter and believe that he is… as good at chores like he claims to be.

“you must like fruits a lot.” jungkook comments as he is squatted infront of your fridge, sheltering the freshly bought perishables one by one.

kimchi, lettuce, strawberries, tangerines, shine muscat, apples…

this is an entirely different world through your lens.

it feels strange to watch another person restock your fridge for you.

“they’re easy to eat and i’m lazy to cook.”

he chuckles as he looks back at you, who is sat on the dining table, airy and carefree as you snack on a bag of assorted chocolates from the paper bag he brought. almost all of the white chocolates are gone, he notes.

“not because they’re nutritious?”

“that’s the bonus!”

“what is this?”

“cranberry juice.”

“and this?”

“oyster sauce.”

you energetically hop off the table, an idea lighting up the bulb in your mind.

“i have another recipe for you. french toast with strawberries, then drizzle some of the honey. should i make it for you?”

“ah!” he gasps as if he is in pain, but the truth is his mouth is watering. he hasn’t eaten breakfast, and he wanted to eat more for dinner last night but sleep proved to be much more enticing than food. “that sounds so good! i’m starving!”

“stand up!” you begin pulling at the back of his sweater, forcing him to remove himself from the floor. “i’ll make it! just go relax in the living room, okay?”

“but you just said you’re lazy to cook.” he tilts back his head, meeting your gaze. “i’ll help you.”

“i’m not lazy when it becomes to being a host.”

you bend down with a sweet smile, merely inches away from him, and jungkook swears the earth has stopped spinning on its axis. your face is natural and bare, except for the sheen of lip balm across your lips— and dear heavens, having you this close, you are so breathtakingly beautiful.

“they’re playing christmas movies on channel 36.” you announce, giving him the bag of chocolates. “and the remote is… somewhere on the sofa… or maybe the floor.”

and as he gets practically kicked out of the kitchen, your hands roughly pushing his back, he daydreams of kissing you and tasting sugar on your lips.

—

the sweet, addicting smell of the french toast— strong hints of butter and cinnamon— invades every corner of your apartment. consequently, it also compels jungkook to break your rules and insert himself in the kitchen again.

“you never give up, do you?”

“i don’t,” he agrees, nodding eagerly. he has successfully stolen the task of washing the strawberries, and then slicing them after. he endures the freezing water rendering his hands numb. “it’s a known fact.”

“are you saying i should study harder?” you cross your arms, expression painted with faux vexation.

“yes! exactly!” he humors you, grinning of amusement. “what’s my favorite color?”

you sigh, looking at him from head to toe.

“anyone can guess that from a mile away, jungkook.”

“fuck, okay. that’s fair!”

the sound of his laughter reminds of you reasons to stay through the cycle of the seasons. you don’t understand why, but for some reason, it has finally begun to feel like christmas. the only comfort that comes along with the cruel winter that nips at your skin; the blanket over your heart that provides a type of warmth one can travel to seek but will never be able to find alone.

“what’s my height then?”

“aren’t you six feet?”

the silence that follows is an answer enough for you. the noise of the television emerges now that none of you is talking. he pretends to be too busy to speak, transferring the strawberries over to the chopping board.

“yes, you’re ri-”

“liar!” you point an accusatory finger at him.

and he winces, guilty as charged.

“you hesitated!”

“tsk, i should’ve said yes faster! i wanted to experience what it’s like to be tall!” he regretfully purses his lips, eyebrows knitted as if he just lost the lottery. “but haven’t you read it online? even my shoe size and weight are there.”

“what? why do people even need to know that…?” you exclaim, flabbergasted. “i mean- of course i’ve searched up your name, but it feels like cheating on a test. does that sound silly…? it’s just more fun learning about you from you.”

you briefly walk away to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, and jungkook is left at the counter with fondness blossoming in his chest, bleeding into the chopped strawberries staining his hands red.

he calls out your name.

“mhmm?” you hum in question, muffled by the water in your mouth.

“want to hear a fact about me?”

you wipe your lips with the back of your hand, eyes expanding with fueled interest. “what?”

“i’m actually very good in the kitchen.” he boasts his skills with the kitchen knife, quick and precise, the blade against the wood creating the satisfying click you usually only hear from cooking shows. “are you seeing this? huh…? what do you think?”

“so i’ve noticed. i want something new!”

at that, his shoulder sags in disappointment. to his demise, there goes another failed attempt at making you acknowledge that he is boyfriend material.

“what do you want to know? ask me questions.”

“what’s your ideal type?”

being in your presence for the past hour has gotten jungkook re-adjusted to your personality— straight-forward, bold, smart— so vivacious that it’s dizzying. you make him nervous and comfortable at the same time, and he doesn’t quite know how to explain it either. but you’re a breath of fresh air, the change that he has been anticipating to disrupt his routine.

“why do you want to know that?”

you shrug coyly, smiling like the troublesome vixen that you are. you rather enjoy the tension that has hung in the air. if you’ve learned something from the past: men are easy to get, not easy to keep. because they relish in the chase, getting strung along like this. so, shouldn’t you have your fun too? but even if jungkook’s intentions were pure, you can only imagine that seeing someone whose life revolves around their career is… the perfect recipe for disaster.

“i think who you like also says a lot about who you are as a person.”

“i like someone who is kind and funny…” he hums in thought, unconsciously slotting a piece of strawberry in between his lips. “and passionate about the things they love… mhmm, someone who can be honest with me.”

his words form a constellation named after you, unbeknownst to you, and he wants to say more but anticipating what comes next after you connect the dots makes his stomach twist. he doesn’t feel like an adult yet. he’s still just a young boy with a gorgeous crush and high ambitions that coalesce in his dreams.

“i like someone who has a really pretty smile, too.”

and he should probably stop staring, erase the dumb lovesick smile on his face. for fuck’s sake, it would be easier for him if you would just do the same. behind the sparkles of your eyes, there is something he’s been dying to decipher.

“okay, why are you looking at me like that?”

because you are so pretty, especially when you smile.

“nothing,” he replies innocently. “you? what’s your ideal type? who do you like?”

“i don’t know… no one has captured my heart yet. they’re not trying hard enough!”

every romance you’ve had so far has been a letdown.

“but i’m still looking. i’m young, and hot, and the universe is vast.”

“mhm, i see… that’s true, but maybe… you don’t want to be looking too far.” jungkook suggests.

you smirk. “so you agree that i’m hot?”

“you know. you don’t need me to say it.” he chuckles, shaking his head.

“but i want to hear you say it.”

“you’re very beautiful, ____.”

“but that’s not-”

“the food is ready! let’s eat it before it gets cold!”

he runs to the living room without waiting for you, and you seize the opportunity to squeal without a sound, punching the counter without actually punching— releasing the giddiness threatening to spill from the seams of your heart.

you don’t know if this is heading somewhere, nor do you expect it to, but where you are right now is a good place to be.

—

the movie playing on the screen has become more of a white noise to you, a family comedy far less fascinating compared to jungkook drizzling honey over strawberries and bread from a spoon. you wonder if he is aware how often he creates sound effects while he is doing something.

beside you, his body quakes with cackles during the scenes that an editor would definitely insert the classic sound of an audience’s collective laughter and holler. you stumble upon the understanding that his happiness lies in a myriad of things, and you would envy him for it if not for the fact that he is currently sharing that happiness with you. you laugh when he laughs, and being becomes a little less heavier at that moment.

another commercial break rudely interrupts and jungkook turns towards you. the two of you sit cross-legged, knees knocking against each other as you occupy nearly the entire sofa.

“hi!”

“hi.”

“what are your plans for the holidays?”

“my best friend’s family invited me to stay with them for christmas until the new year. it’s kind of been a tradition since…”

the end of your sentence hangs suspended in the air. you still can’t say it out loud.

jungkook knows they’re gone and you’re alone: only the plain and brutal truths.

the reminder that this is the third christmas you will not spend with your family; the thought that this would be the third christmas they would spend without you if the afterlife was real— they bring tears to your eyes at once, but you forcibly blink them away, shoving enthusiasm down your throat.

“how about you?” you take a bite from your toast, attempting to divert your thoughts to… anything else. “are you coming home?”

you hide so well behind a smile. it doesn’t occur to jungkook that his question rubbed salt on an open wound.

“i miss my mom but i can’t go home yet.” he pouts. “i have work on christmas day as usual. we’ve been preparing hard for it.”

“oh, that’s right! gayo daejeon?!”

he nods in confirmation.

the music festival has been an annual event for his group since they debuted, and he never feels the need to complain because not everyone is given this kind of opportunity. what’s extraordinary for most has become his ordinary, and what was once his ordinary like everybody else’s has simply become a thing of the past. nevertheless, he does not have regrets. he is living a good life, one that he believes is his fate. as long as he has a voice and it is being heard, then his existence has meaning.

“your family will surely watch you, so they’re still celebrating it with you in a way. making them proud is the best christmas gift you can give!”

and right now, in his life, you are the cherry on top. you were so cheerful and supportive about the final shows of their tour as well, raving about how amazing it is to perform three nights in a row at gocheok skydome.

“i’ll watch you too!”

he can’t help it— you’re driving him to be better at what he does. childishly, he wants show off and be the one to capture your heart.

“ah!” he groans. “that means i should work harder at practice tomorrow! i can’t mess up infront of you and my family!”

“why not me? you want to make me proud too?” you interrogate him jokingly.

“of course, it’s my job. it’s what i do best. i’ll make you see!”

“use me as motivation then. you can’t mess up, okay? you have to do well, jungkook! you better not make a mistake! my eyes will be focused on you only!”

his face is reminiscent of a deer caught in the headlights— the headlights being your wide, threatening eyes.

he releases a shaky sigh in dramatic fashion. “i don’t feel motivated, though? i’m getting pressured?”

you wheeze; the plate over your lap tilts along with its contents.

“this is tough love!”

jungkook nearly staggers to his feet. “…love?”

you roll your eyes, small corners of your lips still cheekily lifted. “was the french toast good?”

jungkook is interrupted before he can form a response.

“but if it tastes like shit, just lie to me!”

“what are you talking about?!”

oh my god, you’re too fucking good at making him laugh.

“you’re eating it too! you know it’s delicious!”

“maybe you got a bad batch!”

—

“i’m going to the laundry shop across the street. i’ll just be a minute.” you announce, hauling a laundry basket to the living room.

your strained grunts prompt jungkook to look up from his phone, and eventually to stand up with urgency and relieve you of your heavy, heavy burden.

“shit, how heavy is this?”

you’re not given a chance to protest as the basket is immediately stolen from your grasp; your lips part open but no words come out.

“i’ll come with you!”

“well, hopefully not more than twelve kilos.”

it’s definitely heavier than usual; mainly comprised of the thick and layered clothes you’ve been wearing to shield yourself from the unforgiving cold.

“let’s go.”

jungkook wraps his hand around your wrist, gently tugging. the butterflies in your stomach wakes up earlier than spring’s arrival.

“this thing is bigger than you.”

an extremely obvious exaggeration.

“i’ll be the one to carry it.“

—

jungkook wears a cap and a face mask underneath his hoodie, eyes barely even visible in his all-black getup for the public to see; and somehow you also find yourself with a scarf around your neck, pulled up over the bridge of your nose.

when the year 2017 rolled in, you predicted that more crazy, life-altering stuff would happen. it has been an on-going theme, a relentless domino effect that has brought you to your knees time and time again. but you never would’ve fucking imagined that this is how you would be wrapping it up. how the hell did you cross paths with a famous idol, and why is he carrying your laundry basket right now?

“wait here for a bit.” you bring both hands to the basket’s handles, coaxing him to let go. “i’ll just bring it inside.”

“are you only dropping it off? that’s expensive!”

“what?” you stare at him in bewilderment, not expecting him to utter such statement at all. “you’re talking like you’re not rich!”

“i’m not! and still,” jungkook becomes flustered underneath his disguise. “it’s good to be practical. anyway, we have a lot of time.”

“you sound more like a mom than my mom did.”

“shhh!” he shushes you, putting a finger over his face mask. “let’s just do your laundry ourselves.”

“why would you do laundry right now? you’re supposed to be resting in the first place!”

a tug of war ensues infront of the laundry shop. strangers doesn’t know better. you look like a married couple bickering over who should take responsibility of the chore.

“____, just let me, mhm? i’m a pro at doing laundry too! we’ll be done before you know it!”

“how are you good at everything? honestly, it sounds like a scam!”

“how dare you doubt me?” he gasps in offense. “i do my own laundry!”

“seriously?” you quirk an eyebrow.

“i’m serious!”

“i don’t think i believe you, though…”

“if you search online, you-” your voice echoes in his mind, and subsequently, jungkook cuts himself off.

‘it feels like cheating on a test. it’s more fun learning about you from you.’

“oh, nevermind. let’s go inside already. i’m freezing!”

“jungkook!” you whine, stomping your feet on the ground as you refuse to let go of the basket despite jungkook beginning to head inside.

“why?” he copies the childishness of your tone, and although you can’t see his face, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes tell you enough.

“we can’t…”

the adorable sight of you appearing to be so shy is foreign to him. he can’t help but to chuckle. “why not?”

your lips form a pout.

“my panties…”

you bring a finger to point at the basket.

“they’re in there too… i was only going to drop them off today because you came with me…”

“ah…” jungkook awkwardly freezes, unblinking. “wait, you’re right?”

why didn’t he think of that? he’s a fucking idiot. of fucking course. what if you take things the wrong way and you’re creeped out by him now?!

“fuck, sorry. i’m sorry. i wasn’t- um, i swear i wasn’t trying to…”

his tongue becomes tied, struggling to search for the words that won’t make him sound like a damn pervert.

yeah, way to go, jungkook. you’re not the fucking boyfriend yet and you’re ruining your chances.

“did i make you uncomfortable? i’m sorry. it probably looked li-”

“hey, breathe, calm down. it’s alright, jungkook.”

you giggle in amusement, placing a hand over his chest— his heart. it’s meant to ease him, but the knowledge that you’re feeling his racing heartbeat only causes it to further intensify. he swallows the lump in his throat, dumbfounded by the turn of events. he wants the ground to swallow him whole, but he also wants to stay in this moment a little while longer.

“it’s alright. i’ll go bring this inside then i’ll treat you to lunch at the restaurant over there! don’t run away from me, okay?”

—

“the yukgaejang looks good.” you utter absentmindedly, admiring the spicy beef soup with plentiful vegetables from afar. “i’m jealous of you.”

the other tables are already having a feast while you and jungkook are waiting for your take-out to be prepared.

“then you should’ve ordered it too.” jungkook scolds you lightheartedly. “should i go?”

“no! i’m not good with spicy food. spice makes me cry.”

he smiles softly. once again, you complete the picture from his eyes. “what is there to frown so sadly about?”

“i feel like i’m missing out.” you complain, the pout on your face almost permanent. “spicy food is like one of the trademarks of korea, you know? but i can’t handle it!”

“so cute…” jungkook has decided to give in to his impulses, it seems— the evidence is him pinching your cheek for the very first time, and with the discovery of its delightsome softness, it will definitely not be the last.

“oh, oh, oh! an eyelash!”

his doe eyes glisten with pure wonder and excitement, and the air in your lungs becomes suspended when his hand moves to tenderly cup the side of your face. as he is absorbed in capturing the tiny eyelash that has fallen and glued itself on your cheek, your mind reels with the size of his hand, the sensation of his innocent touch against your neck.

“aaand-” jungkook takes your hand, passing on the eyelash to your index finger. “there you go. make a wish!”

your eyes flicker down, and none of you speaks for a moment or two.

a wish…?

what does one wish for when they have given up on wishing for miracles?

“did you do it?”

you peek at jungkook, nodding. at last, you blow the eyelash away, outside the window, where it becomes one with the snowflakes that came from the same sky where wishes are supposedly granted.

“what did you wish for?”

“i’ll tell you when it comes true.”

—

jungkook eats so well— you feel full just by watching him eat. so when he asked you, eyebrows knitted and legs bouncing, if he could have more rice, you were left with no choice but to plug in the rice cooker for the second time today. you cooked only enough for two meals today: brunch and dinner for one. you’re more than happy to have given him the dinner portion. you like that your apartment is providing warmth for another soul, despite the old times that it housed ones that ended up haunting you.

“are there any more chores to do? while we wait for the rice?”

you gaze switches from him to the living room.

the boy who was knocking at your door is now vacuuming your floors.

you sit on the couch with your legs hugged to your chest, chin propped on your knees. an unexplainable feeling swims in your chest, but your heart calls to welcome it. not to be delusional, but technically, isn’t this a marriage proposal?

it falls on dear ears— the infuriating sound of the cheap vacuum cleaner your landlord lended you and never came back for. underneath it is jungkook’s mellifluous voice, humming and singing, and it’s all you can hear.

the only use you knew of honey is the magic it does with tea for a sore throat. when you learned about his demanding occupation, he is all you can think of in relation to the elixir. since then, you’ve been taking the god awful amount of honey your pesky neighbor provides without any complaints.

this is nice… this is good. you are glad that you opened the door.

—

after a hearty and satisfying meal, you and jungkook retired to your previous spots infront of the television screen. more of the snacks he bought for you ended up being shared. near your stacks of books are colorful food wrappers and half-empty glasses of water. two mediocre yet entertaining movies later, you tell jungkook that you should pick up your laundry before the shop closes in an hour. however, after he has excused himself to the bathroom, he is greeted by the sight of you peacefully asleep on the sofa.

once more, a new side of you is laid bare, and his affection grows. he doesn’t know when he can admire your face this close again without melting from your stare.

heedful of disturbing your much deserved rest, he carefully places a pillow beneath your head, and he pulls down the blanket you’re wrapped in to cover your cold feet.

with one last stolen glimpse, he grabs your key and receipt from the bowl and leaves.

—

“is it time for you to leave?” you delicately rub at your eyes that are still half-closed; voice quiet, barely there.

you were awoken by the front door opening and closing, but nothing has quite registered to your fuzzy brain yet, except for the coat that you neatly kept and is already re-worn by its owner.

and he knows you’re most probably just sleepy, but the way you’re gazing at him as if you’re sad to see him go makes his heart clench.

“no, i picked up your laundry.” he enlightens you, consciously speaking with refined tenderness, as to preserve the serenity that has enveloped the atmosphere. “i can stay until eight. is that okay?”

you release a weary sigh, nodding. “of course… and you’re such a nice friend, thank you.”

he plops down on the sofa, filling the jungkook-shaped space beside you.

tired… you’re so tired… despite the given privilege to finally sleep to your heart’s content, you’re still so tired. your forehead lands softly on his shoulder, and unbeknownst to you due to your stupor, jungkook’s breath hitches— the polar opposite of the steady rise and fall of your chest. you make him swoon. he deliberately ignores the fact that you just called him a friend.

you peer down at the floor, past the curtain of your disheveled hair, slowly blinking. those ridiculous toe socks… you giggle in secret.

“jungkook?”

“yes?”

“are you cold?”

“freezing.”

you lift your head and he knows— you have to be playing games with his heart, bringing the temptation to kiss you so painfully close. “do you want some tea?”

—

the performance has commenced but the passionate screams of the audience still rings in jungkook’s ears as he runs backstage, chased by the staff attempting to wipe the sweat he is practically bathing in. he squeezes one eye shut as beads of sweat threaten to enter it. his chest heaves with exhaustion and his heart pumps with overwhelming adrenaline. most of the time, this job doesn’t feel real. he feels high. this is the textbook definition of a dream.

“where’s my phone? please? does anyone have it?” he yells in the midst of the chaos and clamor as he completely strips off his in-ears.

a hand reaches towards him with the device, and his expression of gratitude gets lost somewhere among the repetitive reminders of the remaining time before they should have returned to their designated seats.

he allows the hair and make-up stylists to do their jobs, him as their doll in need of a retouch. on the other hand, he impatiently waits for his phone to power on.

the tapping of jungkook’s foot ceases, and from his glowing reflection on the vanity mirror, the clueless people surrounding him witnesses love strike.

guess my eyelash wish worked like a charm. your performances went really well

and you looked so cool on stage ☺️

merry christmas jungkook ❤️

“jungkook-ah, what are you smiling at?!”

seokjin cackles. jungkook didn’t even notice him roll his chair so close. he then decides to play dumb to tease their youngest one.

“wow, who is this ____ you’re texting?”

“hyung!” jungkook panics, hissing underneath his breath. “lower your voice!”

“ouch!” seokjin yells, rubbing his arm that was hit as a punishment.

he allows a moment of silence.

his expression goes blank and he avenges himself.

“ah!” jungkook gasps as the slap on his thigh resonates, forced to be ripped away from overthinking a text message. “hyung! you better start running!”

Draft: i know it’s late.. but can i see you later?|

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[yurinaa-world]

Hi hello! I love your writing!!

Could I request Aventurine, Ratio, Jiaoqiu, and Boothill with an s/o whose love language is bitting?

"𝑅𝒶𝓏𝑜𝓇 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓅 𝓉𝑒𝑒𝓉𝒽"

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Aventurine, Veritas Ratio, Jiaoqiu, & Boothill x Gender-Neutral

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with a s/o whose love language is biting

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff, & Spelling Mistakes

💫𝒜𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑒 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝑒𝓃𝒾𝑜𝓇 𝑀𝒶𝓃𝒶𝑔𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝐼𝒫𝒞 𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓉𝑒𝑔𝒾𝒸 𝐼𝓃𝓋𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒟𝑒𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉"

He’s a romantic guy, words and actions alike, and loves anything you give him but biting was something he didn’t expect at all. Some people have this idea of branding someone with bite marks but you just do it out of your love, that reason alone makes him want all that love since he's a greedy gambler.

Come on, how about he pays you back for it? Forget jewelry this time, how about he returns your love the same way? 

Since you get so joyful when you do it to him, what kind of reaction will you have, flustered? Shocked? Maybe a pretty smile on your face? Who knows until he finds out?

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Why so nervous? I'm only returning the favour.”

He's crazy not know why you're so nervous, eyes wide and mouth agape, his face was just inches away from your own. He loved seeing that look on you, it was better than any other expression you could ever make. 

Even better when he leaned into your neck, shrieking the second you felt his teeth nipping into your next.

Before fully sinking his teeth into your neck, leaving a dark red blemish on your skin. It’s absolutely cute! now you're both matching. Forget about matching jewelry or matching tattoos on each other's skin, this was better.

“We’re the only ones matching now.”

💫𝒱𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓈 𝑅𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜 "𝑀𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝐼𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒾𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈𝒾𝒶 𝒢𝓊𝒾𝓁𝒹

He can’t help but lecture you about those things, and open your mouth as well, who knows you might have damaged your teeth from the obsession you have with biting people (him). Horrified when you first bit him, only until you explained it to him that he understood your nonsense but at the same not really…

But he can’t stop you from loving him, can he? Seeing that happy smile on your face when you lean in to bite him on the neck, the blood rushing to his ear while he hides his face with his book.

 Lecturing again but failing since you won’t listen, what will he do with you? Seeing that loving look on your face even when he lectures you he ends up just taking whatever you give me

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Veritas.”

He hears the giddiness in your voice as you poke his shoulder to get his attention off his book onto you, yet to no surprise he already knew what you wanted, a nice chomp on his cheek as usual, he always lectures you about the harm that can come from yet you refuse to listen using the words: “I’m just showing how I love you.” 

“No.” 

And as usual, He shuts you down immediately, not even looking your way which just makes you frown—which is your second tactic, to make him feel bad that he let you do it and if that doesn’t work then onto the third one, guilt-tripping.

“You don’t want my love, do you hate it?”

Shutting his book so fast you could still hear the slam echoing from the walls, staring at you with a determined look in his eyes, at the same time filled with love. “Ridiculous, I would rip my heart from my chest for you just to have the essence of your love.” He speaks blankly as if speaking scientific facts without hesitation or fear.

“If you love me that much, would you let me bite your cheek?” you suggested clasping your hands together as if you were some kind of beggar—you were acting like one—he was staring back at you with the most deadpan look you had ever seen before “You compare my heart to biting?”

“No, but you did say you’d rip out your heart for the essence of my love.” he cocks his brow before sighing at you, putting his book aside, giving you a chance to bite him willfully. You grin so happily at his words of acceptance, leaning in to gently leave a bite on his cheek as if he were dessert sold in the best restaurant in Penacony. 

“Happy now?” 

The tips of his ears were sooo red! He loves to much to stop you.

💫𝒥𝒾𝒶𝑜𝓆𝒾𝓊 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒳𝒾𝒶𝓃𝓏𝒽𝑜𝓊 𝒴𝒶𝑜𝓆𝒾𝓃𝑔"

He’s a victim, you’ve made him a victim with your love. At least do something with your teeth, maybe try his cooking, sinking your teeth into his cooking instead of engraving in his skin, leaving such marks that make people look at him funny.

He can’t forget how you love biting his ear—though you’re always gentle with it, like your teeth just graze his teeth, only to close in a little to make it feel like you're biting but it’s always so gentle, instead of pain he could feel the blood rush to his face, hiding behind his fan

Don’t act as if you weren’t the reason he’s like this. Since you like to bite so much, did you know that it’s customary for people to leave bites on their lovers in the Yaoqing, why doesn’t he do the same to you as well? 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

He finally can relax after a long day—he feels his sore body still in pain while sitting down, collar unbuttoned to reveal several bite marks left all over his neck by you. The whole day he couldn’t even dare to think of unbuttoning his collar until he was alone, if anyone saw they would be utterly speechless, and he wouldn’t blame them for what their imaginations would lead them to.

“Jiaoqiu,” 

As if on cue you showed up as if you were reading his mind.

Your gentle voice rang through his ears from behind, wrapping your arms around his neck, before gently grazing his ear with the edge of your teeth, closing down ever-so-gently, like a little mouse in your palms with how easily you left much so flustered over something so small, he can’t help but want to pay back, repaying the love you give the same way. “You’re not too tired, are you?” you worried, acting so concerned for him when you see his ears go flat.

“I’m fine,” sighing in your arms, gently taking your arm around him and biting you gently back. “But I’m starting to get tired from all that teasing from you,” he mutters, turning his head back just to grab the back of your head, and pull you down to chomp down on the skin of your neck. 

“...Jiaoqiu.” you groaned his name, feeling the slight sting from his bite as if he were a vampire instead of a healer, drawing back to open his eyes—the slight of his teeth engraved into your neck made his smile wider, it suited you better then it did him, along with that flustered expression as well.

“Just returning the favour to you. And it suits you quite well.”

💫𝐵𝑜𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓁𝓁 "𝑀𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒢𝒶𝓁𝒶𝓍𝓎 𝑅𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇𝓈"

You're shattering your teeth if you try any part of his body, like I mean you’re chipping or cracking your teeth for sure and he just laughs at your face when you cover your mouth, whining and complaining about the pain. So you're just getting veneers unless it's his face you're biting.

He’s completely touch starved, he’ll take anything you give him affectionately even the bitting, like he just loves it so much, sucks his face is the only place you can bite.

Imagen bitting his face out of nowhere, he just freezes, feeling your teeth dig into his cheek as if you were some kind of a monster, leaving teeth indented into his cheek. Before he just starts smiling like an idiot, you know what! He’s going to show his love too! Let him bite your pretty self.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You just couldn’t resist from just chomping down on his cheek as if his cheeks were like brownies, there wasn't a taste or anything but it just felt nice doing so, even when you left back to find a boothill open mouth and confused that staring back at you with teeth marks into the skin of his cheek.

When you smile back at him with your pretty smile, he can’t help but get in a giddy mood, a cheeky grin placed on his lips as if you had kissed him—but that just might be his every reaction when you show him some of your love.

 ”Now we’re speaking my mother fudging language.”

The expression on his face looked like crazy murderer and lovesick madman mixed—impressive that he was able to do that so naturally—you could hear his gears grinding so fast, maybe even the fans speeding up as well. He looked like he was going jump you, which isn’t too far from what happens in the next moments.

Leaping towards you, pushing you down on the ground, with a large grin on his face—his sharp shark-like teeth, you probably see your face reflecting from it. Just feeling the sharp sting on your cheek, his sharp teeth just teeth unusual dark red engraved into your cheek, leaving you whining and complaining at the pain.

“You know how much that hurts!”

“I was just shownin’ my love, just like you.”

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[eatmyheartoutjpg]

AMNESIA ;; Headcanons. Rom. SFW. Jayce gets amnesia and seems to forget you're in a relationship, queue him falling in love with you and trying to woo you all over again.

12.08.24 Masterlist

— Jayce’s amnesia was from an unexpected lab accident while testing one of his latest inventions (one Viktor said not to go through with)

— As usual, anything with Hextech has good odds of exploding. The explosion left Jayce with a few injuries, but nothing major as he was luckily able to scramble away before impact.

— One issue, Jayce hit his head hard. And it seems like his memories are fragmented, scattered about.

— Viktor is the one who informs you about his condition, and though he’s not one for sentimentality, he gives you a subtle "good luck" look, clearly amused by the situation

— When Jayce first sees you after waking up, he immediately recognizes you as someone important but can’t quite place why. His heart races, but he assumes it’s because you’re ridiculously attractive.

— “Wow, uh, hi. Do we… work together?” He stumbles over his words, completely oblivious to the fact that he’s greeted you every morning with a kiss for months.

— You quickly learn that trying to convince him about your relationship outright doesn’t work. He seems too embarrassed to believe it’s true without some "evidence."

— Even with amnesia, his personality remained the same

— Jayce quickly becomes enamored with your kindness and presence. Even though he doesn't remember your relationship, he finds himself gravitating toward you, making excuses to spend more time together.

— He gets flustered and awkward whenever you’re near, suddenly back to his old self before you were a couple—blushing and overthinking every word he says to you (you thought it was quite cute)

— Viktor watches the entire thing like it’s his favorite drama series, sometimes quietly muttering, “You’re pathetic” when Jayce nervously rehearses ways to ask you out (he's dealt with it the first time, doesn't need a second)

— Jayce goes full “romantic mode,” thinking he’s trying to impress you for the first time. Flowers start appearing at your desk, hand-picked (poorly arranged, but cute nonetheless).

— He invites you to “lunch meetings” that are just dates in disguise. “I thought we could brainstorm over some food?” he says, a little too enthusiastically.

— If you asked where Viktor was, his actual lab partner, he'd shrug and say "He's.. busy"

— His love for grand gestures definitely resurfaced.

— One day, he shows up with a personalized invention—a tiny mechanical gadget shaped like a flower that lights up when you touch it. You don’t have the heart to tell him it’s the same gift he gave you on your last anniversary, but it does warm your heart nonetheless

— Overtime,Jayce gets fleeting moments where things feel oddly familiar. When you instinctively reach for his hand while walking, he feels a spark of recognition but chalks it up to an imagination.

— At one point, you accidentally call him by an affectionate nickname you’ve always used. He freezes, a blush creeping up his neck, and mutters, “I… I think I like when you call me that.”

— And besides that, Jayce gets adorably jealous when anyone else seems to monopolize your attention, even though he can’t quite figure out why he feels so protective over someone he isn't even with

— If someone flirts with you, he awkwardly but assertively inserts himself into the conversation. “Oh, I think they’re busy with me right now.”

— He tries to subtly fish for information about your "type," not realizing he’s literally your type.

— Though tempted to tell him everything outright, you realize how sweet it is to watch him fall for you all over again. It’s like reliving the honeymoon phase of your relationship.

— Everyone else doesn't feel the same, Mel and Viktor both felt a mix of amusement and exhaustion at the constant lovesick rambling Jayce, always talking about you

— Jayce, when he first fell in love with you, was so apparent. But again? It's a romcom at this point.

— Sometimes you drop small hints about your history together. “Funny, you used to make me coffee just like this,” you tease when he tries to impress you with his barista skills.

— At one point, you jokingly ask, “What if I told you we were already dating?” His immediate reaction—widened eyes and a nervous laugh—makes your heart melt.

— After weeks of awkward flirting and unspoken tension, Jayce can’t hold it in any longer. He confesses his feelings in classic dramatic fashion, stumbling over his words but sincere.

— “I know this might sound crazy, but I think… I’m falling for you. Or maybe I’ve already fallen—I don’t know. I just know I don’t want to mess this up.”

— You decide it’s time to fill in the gaps, gently telling him about your relationship. He’s stunned at first but quickly shifts to a mix of relief and happiness. “Wait, so I already got to be with you? And I forgot?! I must be the luckiest idiot alive.”

— Once Jayce knows the truth, he’s even more determined to make up for lost time, showering you with affection and doubling down on all the little things he thinks he missed.

— The two of you create new memories while revisiting old ones, turning the experience into a fresh new chapter in your relationship.

— Jayce jokes that he’ll never take you for granted again, but you know deep down that he never did—even when he didn’t remember, his heart still knew where it belonged.

ˢᵉᵛᵉⁿ

[sixosix]

inspired by wanderer’s bday letter <3 happy bday

you couldn’t even make it two steps out of the library before you were pinned to the wall by a scowling figure. his hat blocked off the sun and everything else; his face was all you could see. you could only imagine what this must look like to bypassers—it would be almost romantic if he were kissing you behind the hat instead of breathing heavily.

“did someone enjoy his little surprise?” you asked, batting your eyes while he was a breath away from your face.

he scoffed. “don’t act coy. I know you were the one who told them where to find me.”

“and i know you found it cute.”

“so ridiculous it was almost adorable.”

“ridiculously adorable?”

lately, students of his darshan noticed that you were close to him. they found out about his birthday and asked you if he would like anything. you took it a step further, because you knew it would drive him to do exactly this.

wanderer rolled his eyes. “you’re eating that cake.” he leaned away yet kept his arms pressed against the wall. “i first thought it was lesser lord kusanali who told them about this day, but they jumped on the chance to give you credit. or should i say to throw you under the bus?”

you laughed. “you’re so mean to me. is that what those three padisarahs mean?”

“yes,” he replied swiftly. “it means can’t stand you.”

“aw, and is that what ‘you’d best tell me in person’ also means?” you smiled sweetly, pulling him closer by the obi belt. “just say you want to kiss me next time.”

wanderer grumbled but didn’t deny it. his eyes flicked to your lips as if remembering himself, and he was your boyfriend who could kiss you whenever he pleased. still, it didn’t look like he was giving in first, with his pride and all.

“happy birthday,” you whispered to his mouth. wanderer’s eyes fluttered shut as you pressed against him, his hands moving to your hips. “will you let me celebrate it with you?”

wanderer sighed against your lips. “if not you, then who?”

Lately, there’s always been a gaggle of students sneaking around and gossiping behind my back. One glare, and they’d scatter and hide. And would you believe it? Just when I was hiding out in the the wild, seeking some peace and quiet, they jumped out of some bushes, holding a cake that anyone could see was sickeningly sweet. It’s so incredibly ridiculous that I had to laugh. Just how many people on this planet would be happy about my “birth”? But their little joke did remind me that on this day, there is someone I need to give a gift to.Since I’m the one picking the gift, I’ll choose it based on my own preferences. If you’ve got any opinions, you’d best tell me in person. Hmm… Though just how did they find me? Next time I’ll need to find a more secluded spot.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 6

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5

In the next letter, Eddie makes no comment about their differing opinions. Chrissy knew he wouldn’t. She doesn’t know Eddie, not really, but he’s never seemed like the kind of guy who’d stop talking to someone over such shallow, small differences, no matter how he comes off in his little cafeteria rants.

       Secret Admirer,

       You’re enough, just the way you are, brown eyes and all. I bet they’re real pretty. I could look into them for hours, mesmerized by every color differentiation, spend days counting every one of your eye lashes.

       Just say the word—I’ll pick you up in my van and we can go to the drive-in and hold hands the whole time. I’ll wear my silver jewelry, and you can wear gold. I bet your hands would look real pretty wrapped up in mine.

       I’ll be a gentleman, sweetheart, I swear.

       Only the best for you.

       Yours,

       Eddie

       P.S. Romantic meeting spot. I can’t wait to put this note right next to your heart. Next time maybe I can put my letter in Moby Dick. After all, you’re my white whale, baby, I’m always looking for you.

She likes Eddie, really she does, but the way Steve blushes as he hands the letter to her is ridiculous. The guy’s not exactly smooth, or suave, or any of the things that should leave Steve all hot and bothered.

Still, she dutifully helps him write his reply:

       Eddie —

       Maybe someday, we’ll get to go to that movie. When we do, you don’t have to be a gentleman at all—I’m easy, if it’s for you, and it would be such a waste not to make use of all that space in your van.

       I don’t have any rings, but if I did, I think I’d want one of yours. That way, whenever I look down at them, I’d be reminded of you.

       How was your day? All I want to do is ask and hear your reply.

       Yours, always

       Your Secret Admirer

       P.S. I’ll search the seas for you.

“I know he’s your friend, but I just don’t get it,” Chrissy says to Jeff, walking close enough to his side that their shoulders brush. “The guy looks like a mangy poodle, and he’s not exactly Shakespeare.”

Jeff snorts. “Hey, he’s at least a cute mangy poodle,” he replies, bumping their shoulders purposefully this time.

“I guess if you’re into that sort of thing,” she mutters, and somehow, Steve is. It still shocks her, sometimes, when she thinks about it too much.

“The heart wants what it wants,” Jeff says, sounding wise, but when she glances at him, he’s grinning, eyebrows jumping up and down at her like this is all just some joke.

She scoffs, “I just wish what Steve wanted wasn’t leading toward a broken heart.”

Jeff’s expression drops at that, mouth pursing. He’s quiet all the way to Eddie’s locker. She slips Steve’s letter between the slats and keeps walking, only stopping when she realizes Jeff’s no longer beside her. When she turns around, he’s staring at Eddie’s closed locker like it holds the answers to the universe.

“I’m not so sure about that,” he says, finally turning back toward her and catching back up with quick strides.

Chrissy doesn’t respond, at a loss for what to say. She can’t see it, but for all the letters she’s helped write, her and Eddie aren’t friends. She doesn’t know him as well as Jeff, who’s been by his side for years, or even as well as Steve, who watches him every chance he can get.

“Yeah, maybe,” she replies, unwilling to let any hope build, not when it’s Steve’s heart on the line. “Want a ride home?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Jeff replies.

And when he slides into her passenger seat, she feels a little less alone.

The letters keep coming, and Steve keeps blushing and pushing them across the table at her.

       Secret Admirer,

       Oh, a flirty one, aren’t you? I like it. But maybe I’m shy, did you ever think about that? Maybe I want to walk you to your door, slide one of my rings on your finger, and give you a little kiss. You can pick the ring, baby—I’ll even resize it to fit you just right.

       My days are always brighter when I hear from you. I go to the quarry on Wednesday’s to peddle my wares, but all I want to do is go home and play my guitar (my sweetheart). I’m writing a new song and I really want to get it down by next week’s practice, but I’m stuck on a riff I just can’t get right.

       Do you play any instruments?

       Sincerely,

       Eddie

       P.S. You’re going to make me swoon, babygirl.

And Steve keeps responding using Chrissy’s pen and Chrissy’s brain, and his own bleeding heart.

       Eddie —

       My mom made me take piano lessons when I was little, but my dad refused to keep paying for them. I didn’t want to at first, but I really liked it. Maybe I’ll brush up my skills so I can play a song for you. Any requests?

       Does your band play anywhere? I remember you from the middle school talent show, are you still going by Corroded Coffin? I bet you look hot when you play—I want to see it, someday. Your rings would glint under show lights, hypnotizing the entire audience. Especially me.

       Did you figure out your riff? I’m waiting with bated breath.

       Sincerely,

       Your Secret Admirer

       P.S. leave this one in The Taming of the Shrew.

She wants to build a cage and lock him inside, or shake him and shake him until he sees what a risk he’s taking. Jeff might not see it, his priorities are different. But her first concern is Steve, always will be Steve, whose heart isn’t the only thing on the line. And she can feel it coming—the moment, inevitably, when this whole thing falls to pieces.

       Secret Admirer,

       Have you read this play? It’s not the romantic story you think it is. Since you’re already holding the book, why not check it out? I promise not to look at the checkout card to figure out who you are (I say, unrepentantly lying).

       My band actually just got our first gig at the Hideout. It’s next Tuesday, and you should come! I would love to see you in the audience, cheering me on. I’ve been trying to respect your boundaries, but darling, I want to see you. Will you come? Please?

       Thinking of you, always,

       Eddie

Chrissy doesn’t want to stand by and watch Steve Harrington break.

*** 

Part of Eddie wonders if he won’t get another letter—if she’ll just show up at the Hideout next Tuesday with a smile. Still, when he hasn’t received an answer for a couple days, he checks if anyone’s checked out The Taming of the Shrew, but no, it’s still there, nestled on its shelf in the library, Eddie’s damning letter no longer inside.

He’s starting to wonder if he made a terrible mistake.

It’s happenstance, the way he finds out. He could have just as easily not forgotten his campaign notes. He could have been prepared, and not left all his little sheep moaning and groaning about what amounts to a five minute delay, if he’s quick about it.

He could have, but he didn’t.

Instead, Eddie stands at the end of the hall, transfixed, as he watches Chrissy Cunningham’s distinctive high ponytail sway back and forth as she walks away. From his locker. Where he just saw her slip something in.

She’s well out of sight before Eddie walks up to the looming hunk of metal on shaky legs. It takes three tries to get it open, and there, for all and sundry to see, is an envelope with his name written in a familiar scrawl.

He doesn’t open it.

“What took so long?” Doug gripes as Eddie shuffles back into the room, clutching his notebook to his chest.

Eddie walks slowly to his throne without replying, eyes still unfocused and fixed on the swishing of Chrissy’s hair.

“Are you okay?” Jeff asks.

Eddie shakes the thoughts out of his head, leans back on his throne, and smiles. “Sometimes a quester is besieged on his travels and must defeat a mighty foe before he can return from whence he came.” He says it with all the gravitas of his dungeon master voice.

Doug laughs, Gareth rolls his eyes, but Jeff’s eyes are narrowed on his face for the next ten minutes until he gets sucked into the campaign. And Eddie? Eddie’s heart isn’t in it. No matter how determined he is to put it out of his mind, it keeps sticking to his neurons.

Because Chrissy? She’s nice, sure. And pretty, definitely. Her hair’s…nice? Bouncy? It’s probably soft. And yeah, she’s a jock, but she’s not like most of them—too kind to give a kid a swirly or call any of the other girls fat.

Which brings him to the King of the jocks, Steve Harrington, whose name is practically branded on Chrissy’s shoulders by this point, whose arm is pretty much super-glued around her waist. Steve, with his perfect hair, and long eyelashes, and those big brown eyes, and all those muscles.

Something too squirmy to be hatred sinks in his gut. Jealousy, maybe? Because how could someone like him compete with King Steve for a lady’s hand, love notes or no?

He’s distracted for the rest of the campaign, says half-hearted goodbyes to the boys before finally closing the van door on them and driving away.

When he opens the letter in the safety of his bedroom, it’s shorter than usual:

  Eddie —

  There’s nothing more I want than to see you up on that stage, rocking out, in your element, but I’m just not ready. I hope you’ll forgive me.

  Yours,

  Your Secret Admirer

  P.S. If you still want to respond, I’ll look in the big print edition of The Hobbit.

He goes over the words again and again, finger running along the lines of each character, trying to picture Chrissy pouring over them with her pen.  He loves all the words in all the letters, wants to carve them all on his skin, helplessly charmed by each vulnerability shared.

He can’t quite make the words fit the girl.

Eddie still drops his next reply in the big print edition of The Hobbit the next morning. He watches Chrissy all day. He’s surprised, somehow, when she meets his eyes once across the insurmountable distances between them in the lunchroom. She ducks her head immediately and blushes, even with Harrington’s arm wrapped around her shoulders.

There isn’t another note by the end of the day.

“So, wait,” Gareth says, stoned out of his mind and sprawled out on Eddie’s bed after the hell they call education finally released them. “You’re saying Chrissy has been leaving you all those notes?”

Eddie spins around in his desk chair, but it’s not one of those fancy wheeled ones that Harrington probably has, so he’s forced to turn and straddle the back, letting his head hang over the headrest as he groans.

“For the last time, yes!” he says, more to the little bits of his carpet that he can see than to Gareth himself. “It’s Chrissy!”

Gareth takes another hit, blowing smoke toward Eddie’s ceiling to swirl around and join the rest of the stains up there. “Are you sure it wasn’t just someone who looked like her? How close to her were you?”

Eddie groans again, shuffles off his uncomfortable chair to flop beside Gareth and steal his joint back. “She was wearing a cheerleading uniform, man,” he says before taking a puff and letting all the smoke out with his next words. “And no one else on the team has that color hair.”

Gareth hums, twisting on his side to burrow his head into Eddie’s only pillow. “What is that color even? Like, blond but with a weird red in it? What’s it called, bluh-red?”

He laughs like that’s the funniest joke in the world, so Eddie doesn’t hand back the joint, just pulls on it until he’s down to the quick and ashes it on his nightstand as Gareth whines.

“It’s strawberry blond, you idiot.”

Gareth wrinkles his nose at that. “That’s a stupid name.”

Eddie smacks his hand out, lets it hit Gareth’s arm with a solid thwack. “You’re supposed to be helping me!”

“With what?” Gareth replies, rolling away from Eddie when he goes to hit him again. He ends up on Eddie’s floor, fall cushioned by all of his dirty clothes scattered about. “Just like, talk to her?”

“Chrissy Cunningham?” Eddie demands. Gareth doesn’t seem to be understanding the severity of the situation. “Whose head cheerleader and, oh yeah, dating Steve Harrington?”

“So what? The guy’s a douche,” Gareth replies.

Instead of getting back up on the bed, he snuggles further into Eddie’s dirty clothes, rolling around like a pig in a mud puddle until he’s got enough of Eddie’s discarded shirts on him to function as a makeshift blanket.

Harrington is a douche. He’s got to spend an obscene amount of time on his hair in the morning, and he hangs out with those hyenas on the basketball team all the time, and he’s Steve Harrington. Rich kid, lady killer, King Steve Harrington.

Maybe all Chrissy really wants is an excuse to leave him. If that’s what his lady wants, he will provide.

*** 

Steve’s been sitting on Eddie’s letter for a few days now, at a loss for what to say. He puts it under his pillow at night, hoping the perfect answer will come to him in his dreams. He finds himself unfolding it and refolding it again and again, wondering if the words will change.

  Darling,

  If you’re not ready, that’s okay. But the heart wants what it wants, and you can’t blame me for trying, can you? Even still, I’ll be singing just for you.

  Of course I still want your letters, never doubt that. They’re still, always, forever, the best part of my day.

  Always,

  Eddie

  P.S. Excellent choice in hiding places, have you read it?

It’s just, a big part of him had expected Steve’s dismissal of meeting up would end this thing they have. He’d braced for it, and instead, Eddie was sweet.

And Steve can’t give him what he wants, isn’t what he wants, so he keeps the letter with him and stews on it, Chrissy sending him worried looks when she thinks he’s not paying attention.

No matter how lost in thought he is, a part of him is always tuned into Eddie’s presence, so he sees him coming before Chrissy does.

“Miss Cunningham,” Eddie says, leaning forward like a gallant knight as he takes her small hand in one of his own. She jumps, eyes darting up from her lunch to meet Eddie’s own. “Can I have this dance?”

The rest of the lunch table titters. It might have been charming, if they were at a dance, or anywhere aside from shoehorned to the side of the table with all of Steve’s shitty friends laughing.

It might have been charming if Eddie’d looked at Steve at all.

Chrissy’s sure looking at him, though—eyes all wide in her face as she shifts her gaze back and forth from Steve sitting across from her to Eddie crouched at her side.

“Um—” is all she gets out before Jason stands from the far end of the table and starts taking threatening steps forward.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Freak?” Jason demands, chin raised.

Steve’s about ready to stand, insert himself in the whole thing, but then Eddie’s lips graze Chrissy’s hand.

Jason stumbles back like he’s been shot. Eddie grins against Chrissy’s skin, turns his gaze away from Jason, and lands on Steve. He can almost feel it on his own skin as Eddie puckers his lips again and presses another kiss to Chrissy’s skin, this time to the smooth surface of her wrist.

He never looks away from Steve.

“Um!” Chrissy says again.

Only then does Eddie break eye contact with him. He drops Chrissy’s hand, placing it gently back to the table, says, “until next time, mi amore,” and saunters away, continuing until he’s out of the cafeteria entirely.

Steve doesn’t look away until the door swings shut and blocks his view of Eddie entirely.

“What was that, Chrissy?” Jason demands. He’s moved closer while Steve was distracted, absolutely towering over her, looking more like a beleaguered father than an ex. “First Harrington, and now the Freak?”

Steve wants to defend himself, defend Eddie, defend Chrissy. But despite what Jason clearly thinks, she’s never needed defending, so he asks, “do you want to get out of here?”

“God, yes,” Chrissy sighs.

They leave their lunches uneaten and their tables unbussed, hustling out the same doors Eddie’d just sauntered through, leaving a scolding Jason in their wake. Something about devil worship and blaspheming?

Steve’s not exactly the church-going type; he’s just glad when the doors swing shut and cut off Jason’s little speech.

“What was that?” Chrissy asks in a whisper despite the deserted corridor.

“Jason?” Steve asks at his normal volume. “I don’t know, he’s always been a bit like that, hasn’t he?”

“Not Jason,” Chrissy snaps, slapping at Steve’s arm, taking any sting out of the motion by wrapping her arm in his after and reeling him right back in. “Eddie!”

Steve, who had sort of been hoping that he could pretend the whole thing had been a vivid hallucination, has nothing to say.

“Do you think he knows?” she asks, voice quiet again as she looks furtively around the deserted halls, for random passerby’s or even Eddie himself.

“About you?” Steve asks, stomach sinking even further when he continues, “or about me?”

Chrissy stumbles, eyes going impossibly wider at the thought. She pulls him into an abandoned classroom and pushes him into one of the uncomfortable chairs. She sits in front of him, looking across the desk between them like he’s a sad woodland creature she’d just hit with her car.

“He can’t know about you,” she says. “He was flirting with me.”

Steve grimaces. Chrissy’s too nice, always thinking the best in people like she doesn’t have Jason Carver as living, breathing proof that sometimes, beyond all expectations, people can suck.

“He could be fucking with me. Eddie seems like the type to play with his food.” Steve stares down at the grooves of the desk he’s seated in. Someone had carved FUCK on it in big, bold letters. Steve’s never agreed with a sentiment more. “Do you think Jeff told him?”

Chrissy shakes her head so hard that her ponytail whacks her in the face. “No way, he promised!” she reminds him.

Jeff seems like a good guy, but Steve’s not sure how far that goes. He doesn’t have the wherewithal to trust like that, not with this.

“Well, what do we do?” Steve asks. “Should you just flirt back next time?”

Chrissy bites her lip, worrying at the dry skin there until Steve taps her chin in reminder, and she puts her teeth back in her mouth.

“Maybe it won’t happen again?”

Steve sighs, thunking his head down against the desk. “Yeah, maybe,” he murmurs into the wood, Chrissy’s hand patting his shoulder a paltry consolation to the nightmare he’s found himself in.

*** 

It happens again.

“Carry your books, my lady?” Eddie asks. He’s already got his hands out expectantly, but he’s too much of a gentleman to make a move without her say-so.

She watches his hopeful grin for a moment before sliding her pile of books into his awaiting arms. Once secured, he does an endearing little fist bump before taking up residence at her side like it's his birthright.

“What are you doing, Eddie?” she asks.

“What do you mean?” he asks, almost sounding clueless enough to convince her, if it wasn’t for that little smirk on his lips.

Everyone in the hallways are giving them a wide berth, clearly shocked by the unexpected pair. It’s nice, almost, to be given so much space. But—

But.

“You know I’m with Steve, right?” Chrissy asks.

Eddie grimaces, like just hearing Steve’s name is enough to sour his mood. “What, is it illegal to walk a pretty girl to class now?” he asks.

Chrissy’s own mood sinks to the pits, and she sighs, disappointed. “No,” she replies before letting the silence between them linger uncomfortably.

Eddie’s fidgeting with her books, anxious fingers fluttering against the loose pages of one of her notebooks, and his eyes dart toward her every couple of seconds.

“Chrissy—”

“You know, for someone who spends so much time ranting about the status quo, you sure can’t seem to look past skin deep.”

Eddie jerks like she struck him. Chrissy would feel bad if she wasn’t thinking about having to tell her best friend about this in a couple hours. “I see you,” he murmurs, shifting on his feet and not meeting her gaze as he holds out her books for her to take.

When Chrissy sighs, he flinches again. “I don’t think you do,” she says, not sticking around to see how it lands.

She’s got class to get to, and a best friend’s heart to break.

Chrissy snags Steve’s hand before he can walk through the cafeteria’s swinging doors and pulls him the other way. They settle into the same, abandoned classroom in the same, abandoned seats.

“It happened again,” she says, not letting go of Steve’s hand.

He’s still got a bit of polish clinging to his nails, the chipped yellow making him look almost jaundiced with how patchy it is. She uses her own fingernail to chip at it, ignoring the sunshine yellow flakes dropping down to the empty desk separating them.

Steve doesn’t ask what happened again; he doesn’t need to.

“Did you flirt back?” he asks.

Chrissy bites her lip. “I let him carry my books.”

She hadn’t flirted, is the thing, but she hadn’t gotten rid of him either. She knew, no matter how heartbroken he looks across from her right now, he wouldn’t have wanted her to.

“Okay,” he says, like it really is, like he means it. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me!” she snaps, snatching her hands back for a second before the bewildered look on his face has her reaching out again. “What are you thanking me for?”

Steve smiles—it’s small, and sad, and he’s beaming it right into her soul. “For keeping me safe.”

Chrissy groans, dropping her head onto their clasped hands and just keeps groaning. He means it—of course he does. If there’s one thing she’s learned since this whole thing started, it’s that Steve Harrington is somehow, inexplicably, too nice for his own good.

“I love you, you know,” she says, lips brushing against his skin with every word.

She’s been thinking it since he’d called her his best friend in that letter, since he’d said it and she hadn’t said it back. It sits unsaid behind her teeth every time he smiles, or frowns, or anything at all. He’s just too dang easy to love.

When he doesn’t reply, she forces herself to raise her tired head and get a look at his face. His eyes are big and round, mouth hanging open far enough that she’s tempted to close it for him, and there’s a damning sheen to his eyes that makes her own water.

“Really?” he asks, voice cracking. “You do?”

“Of course,” she replies, the way he always does to her, no matter what she asks for.

He smiles again, and it’s big this time, happy and watery around the edges as he says, “love you, too,” leaving the “I” out of the confession like that’ll somehow make the whole thing less real.

They’re smiling at each other like damn fools when Steve’s stomach growls and they dissolve into giggles.

“Buy me lunch?” she asks.

“Of course.” He jumps up from the desk and holds out his hand for her, an unknowing mirror of Eddie this morning.

She doesn’t put her books into his arms, just takes his hand.

PART 7

[sanatomis]

cw. none! except satoru falling asleep in your arms (he snores, it’s adorable).

It wasn’t a surprise to you when Satoru told you he has trouble sleeping. The confession came four months after your relationship became official—which finally happened after many, many years of dancing around one another. In those four months, despite being attached at the hip, you have never, ever seen him fall asleep before you. 

A small, secret part of you hoped for that to change; That your darling would find peace in your presence, and sleep without any sign of trouble. In an ideal world, his nights that were previously filled with insomnia would make way for loving cuddles and some very needed shut-eye. Though, that thought may have been the hopeless romantic in you. 

Of course, none of that actually happened. Satoru still runs on approximately four to five hours of sleep a day, and with the occupation he holds, you think that’s far too little. So, despite your fleeting wish, your relationship didn’t change that part of him—you didn’t change that part of him. Though, even if you’re unable to do much about his (concerning) lack of sleep, you make his waking moments much more bearable. 

His nights are still long, and the time that he sleeps is still short, except now—he enjoys the time that he spends awake. In the middle of the night, while the rest of Japan is asleep, Satoru is awake. Doing what, you wonder? Holding you. It’s all he does until his (still very human) body knocks him out and forces him to rest—he holds you. 

Every night is different, even if his routine is the same. Sometimes he’s seated against the headboard with you in-between his legs, your cute little face squished against him. Other times he’s spooning you from behind, and snuggling into the crook of your neck as he finds comfort in your scent. Though, he plays favourites, and enjoys it most when you’re cuddled into his chest—he gets to shield you from the world, and gets to keep you safely tucked away into his arms. 

Satoru often says he could spend hours simply sitting with you in his arms. You never quite understood why, however. Until now. 

You’re laying on the couch, and it’s not even remotely close to midnight, but your sweetheart is asleep. The faint noise of the TV hits your ears, but it quickly gets overshadowed by the small snores your boyfriend lets out. You quickly bite your bottom lip—cooing over him would surely wake him up. 

Of course, he does this. Of course, he snores. 

You smile at the thought, and shake your head knowingly. Satoru lays on his stomach, in-between your legs, and with his head on your chest. Both his arms are wrapped securely around you, and you fight another smile when he cuddles further into you. His hair tickles your chin when he does so, but you’d rather die than ever have him move away. He’s so ridiculously cute. With his mouth slightly parted, with low breaths steadily leaving his lips, and with all signs of stress faded from his pretty face. 

You bring a hand up towards him. It’s a careful movement, as you’re a little scared of waking him up and depriving yourself of such a sweet sight. Your fingers gently caress his face; from his jawline, to his cheekbone, to his nose. Subconsciously, a little smile appears on his lips, and you feel as if you’re the luckiest person alive for being allowed to witness it. 

Satoru moves shortly after. Not because he’s awake, but because he senses it when you move your hand away from him, and even while asleep—he chases after it. He leans into your touch, and lets out a soft, happy sigh when he does. It seems he found himself at peace once again. 

“So cute, mochi,” you sigh lovingly, and gently start carding your fingers through his hair. You bring your lips to the top of his head, and press a sweet, lingering kiss to it. “You’re so cute. I get it now.”

Satoru is asleep, finally. He’s resting, and at ease, and, well, a little bit loud still as the snores continue on—but he’s so very adorable. 

It makes the next three hours of sitting completely still all worth it. You didn’t need the feeling in your legs, anyway.

[pucksandpower]

Hi!! I always see fics of Charles being the one who isn’t believed he’s in a relationship (and i eat it all up cause it’s such a fun trope 😌) but what if it’s the reader’s turn. Like she’s a normal university student who always talks about her boyfriend but her friends and her fellow students just don’t believe her so Charles decides to surprise her and just be the proof. Thanks in advance!!

Daydream

Charles Leclerc x engineering student!Reader

Summary: You are living the dream … except no one actually believes that your boyfriend is really your boyfriend

You walk into class after the winter break with a sun-kissed glow and a new watch on your wrist.

Your friend Matteo notices it immediately and lets out a low whistle.

“Wow, that has to be the most realistic looking fake I’ve ever seen! Where did you get it?” He asks with a grin.

You roll your eyes but smile back. “It’s not a fake. Charles gave it to me for Christmas.”

Your friends barely give you a chance to get the last word out before they burst out laughing. You feel your cheeks flush in embarrassment and annoyance.

“Oh sure, I’m certain that your very real boyfriend, Charles Leclerc the Formula 1 driver, just happened to give you a €340,000 Richard Mille for Christmas,” your other friend Livia jokes.

“Come on guys, I’m serious! Charles and I have been dating for months now. We met when I was interning with Ferrari last year,” you insist.

But your friends just keep chuckling and shaking their heads in disbelief.

“If you were really dating an F1 driver, you would be posting cute couple-y pics all over Instagram. There’s no way anyone in that position could resist showing off a little,” Matteo argues.

You let out an exasperated sigh. You and Charles agreed to keep your relationship out of the public eye for now to avoid media scrutiny. But your friends just see this as further proof that you’re making it all up.

“Maybe he’s embarrassed to be seen with an engineering student,” Livia quips.

That stings a bit, even though you know she doesn’t mean for it to.

You slump down in your chair, absentmindedly fiddling with the exquisite watch on your wrist. You hadn’t realized it was worth so much when Charles gave it to you. The way his eyes lit up when you unwrapped it on Christmas morning was priceless. He was so excited to spoil you in any way he could. And now your friends think it’s just a cheap fake.

Charles is always doing ridiculously romantic things like flying you out on a private jet just so you can spend any free weekends together and sending you bouquets of roses bigger than you are. But no one believes that he’s really your boyfriend. To them, it’s all just part of an elaborate scheme you’ve concocted.

You met Charles when you were one of ten engineering graduate students selected for a prestigious internship with Scuderia Ferrari. You spent six months working in Maranello, learning from some of motorsport’s brightest minds.

Charles took an interest in you immediately. He would come by your workstation in the aerodynamics lab, peppering you with thoughtful questions about your projects. You would discuss aerodynamic principles and simulations for hours. Even ex-team principal Mattia Binotto said the two of you had a visible “synergy.”

Your internship had since ended but your relationship with Charles continued. You tried to play it cool at first, not wanting to seem overly eager. The day after you went back to study in Milan, he asked you out to dinner. Your first date lasted five hours as you talked endlessly about everything under the sun. You were amazed at how you never ran out of things to discuss.

Over the next few months, you grew closer and closer. Charles would take weekend trips to Milan just to see you, even if it was only for a few hours. He told you that you grounded him and reminded him that there was more to life than racing.

When he asked you to be his girlfriend after inviting you to the Monaco Grand Prix, you were shocked but ecstatic. You knew then that your hectic schedules won’t make it easy but Charles is unlike anyone you’ve ever known. He makes your heart race faster than a V12 engine.

You’re shaken from your reminiscing as Matteo waves a hand in front of your face. “Earth to Y/N! Come on, tell us where you got the watch. I want to get one too! It looks so identical to the real thing that we could probably sell it to some suckers on eBay.”

You shake your head with a huff. “Forget it, I’ll tell you all about my ‘fake’ boyfriend another time.”

For now, you’re just counting down the days until you can see Charles again.

No matter what anyone else may think, the two of you know that your love is real.

***

You’re humming along to your playlist as you drive Charles’ Purosangue on the winding roads leading to Milan. The SUV handles like a dream and you’re thoroughly enjoying the feeling of having 715 horsepower under your feet.

Your own trusty Fiat had broken down while visiting Charles in Monaco over the weekend. He insisted you take the Purosangue for the almost four hour drive back rather than waiting for a rental. You tried to decline at first, anxious about driving such an expensive vehicle. But Charles wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“I don’t like the idea of you driving all that way alone in some random rental car,” he argued. “This will be much safer and more comfortable for you, mon amour.”

You finally relented, unable to resist when he turned on the charm. Charles gave you a lengthy tutorial of all the car’s features before sending you off with a lengthy kiss and plans for your next visit.

As you pull into the Politecnico di Milano parking lot, you realize just what a scene you’re about to cause. The other students are used to seeing you in your almost ten-year-old Fiat, not a glittering metallic Ferrari.

Sure enough, jaws drop and whispers follow you as you step out of the driver’s seat. Matteo quickly spots you from across the lot and comes jogging over eagerly.

“No way! Is that ... is that a Purosangue?” He gapes. “What are you doing with that?”

“Funny story actually. My car broke down when I was visiting Charles in Monaco last weekend. So he let me borrow this while mine is in the shop.”

Matteo stares at you blankly. “Visiting Charles ... in Monaco?” He throws his head back and laughs. “Your dedication to this bit is honestly impressive, Y/N. But there’s no way that the Charles Leclerc just gave you his Ferrari to drive back to Milan.”

You sigh but you’re determined not to let Matteo get under your skin this time. “Believe what you want. But I had an amazing weekend with my boyfriend before heading back to reality today.”

You head into class, Matteo trailing behind you, still shaking his head in disbelief. Livia immediately jumps up when she sees you.

“Shut up, is that really a Ferrari outside?” She gasps. You nod nonchalantly and take your seat.

“Y/N here is trying to convince us that her boyfriend let her borrow it over the weekend,” Matteo says with an exaggerated eye roll.

“You do realize those start at €390,000 right?” Livia says. “Why on earth would Charles Leclerc of all people let you drive his brand new ultra luxury SUV around?”

You throw your up hands in indignation. “Maybe because he’s my boyfriend and he wanted to help me out! Why is that so hard for you guys to believe?”

But instead of listening to you, other classmates join the conversation and chime in with their own theories about why you suddenly have a Ferrari.

“Maybe she rented it to play a prank on everyone,” suggests Liam.

“No way,” Eva argues. “Maybe she got a big inheritance? Some distant rich relative died and left their fortune to Y/N?”

You groan internally. But before you can respond, your professor walks in and instructs everyone to take their seats.

Through the lecture, you catch people whispering and pointing discreetly at you. By the time class ends, you just want to go home and video chat with Charles about your frustrating day.

As you pack up your things, Livia comes over. “So have you thought about what you’ll tell people when they see you getting out of that Ferrari for the foreseeable future?” She asks.

You blink at her. “The truth? That Charles loaned it to me while my car is in the shop,” you say slowly.

She pats your shoulder. “Come on Y/N, the joke was funny at first but now it’s just getting sad. No one actually believes that you’re dating Charles Leclerc and driving his cars around. Just tell us where you really got it so we can all move on from this weird fantasy life you’ve constructed.”

You stand up abruptly, shoving your notebook in your bag. “It’s not a fantasy,” you spit sharply. “It’s my real life and I’m sorry you can’t accept that. But I don’t need to convince you or anyone else.”

You storm out of the classroom, blinking back frustrated tears.

Pulling out your phone, you text Charles.

I miss you. My friends still think I’m making this all up. I can’t wait to see you in Spain next race.

Charles texts back immediately.

Not as much as I miss you. Don’t worry about what other people think, we know our love is real.

And you looked so hot driving my car 😉

You smile down at your phone, comforted by his words. You may never get your friends and classmates to believe your relationship, but as long as you and Charles know the truth, that’s all that truly matters.

Sliding back behind the wheel of the shiny Ferrari, you feel your stress melt away. Who cares what anyone thinks? You have an amazing boyfriend who trusts you with his most prized possessions. And someday when you and Charles are ready to share your love with the world, everyone’s jaws will drop in disbelief.

For now, you’ll just enjoy the ride.

***

It’s nearly time for summer break and you’re sitting outside with Matteo, Livia, and some other friends, soaking up the sunshine.

“We should all go backpacking around the Greek islands in August!” Suggests Livia. “We could start in Athens, then ferry to Mykonos, Santorini, and end in Crete. Who’s in?”

Everyone voices their enthusiasm for the idea. Then Matteo turns to you. “How about it, Y/N? Take a break from your ‘boyfriend’ and come adventuring with us common folk.”

You take a deep breath and stir your coffee, debating on how to break the news. “That sounds amazing but I already have plans for the summer.”

“Oh yeah? Going home to see your family?” Matteo asks.

You take a deep breath. “Actually, Charles and I are going on a vacation for a few weeks.”

Your friends erupt into laughter.

“A holiday? With Charles Leclerc?” Livia giggles. “Girl, your fantasies are really taking off lately!”

You frown in annoyance. “I’m serious. Charles chartered a yacht and everything. I wish you could see how excited he is for our first big trip together. He’s been planning it for months.”

Livia pats your hand gently. “Sweetie, we know you’re probably feeling financial pressure with school and all. You don’t have to lie about going off on some glamorous vacation. If you can’t afford to join us in Greece, just say so.”

You stare at her in disbelief. “This isn’t about money. Charles and I have been looking forward to this since the start of the season! I’m sorry that our relationship is still so unbelievable to you.”

Your aggravation must show on your face because Matteo holds up his hands appeasingly. “Look, I’m sure whatever you end up doing this summer will be great. But clearly this whole Charles charade has gone too far. It’s time to come clean.”

You stand up abruptly, grabbing your things. “I don’t need to come clean about anything. My relationship with Charles is real, whether you choose to believe it or not.”

You storm off fuming. Your friends’ outright refusal to even entertain the notion that you could be dating Charles is so patronizing and demeaning. Do they really think so little of you?

That night, you vent to Charles over FaceTime about the conversation.

“I just don’t get why it’s so hard for them to believe me! I know we’re not exactly a super conventional couple but it’s like they think I’m delusional,” you sigh.

Charles gives you a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry they’re being like this, mon cœur. But try not to let it upset you too much. We know the truth about our love. That’s what matters.”

You nod, cheered as always by his encouragement. “You’re right. I’m just so excited for our trip! Sailing around the Mediterranean with you all to myself? It’s going to be a dream.”

Charles grins. “Oh I can’t wait either. The yacht has a hot tub on deck under the stars. I want to make sure it’s just as magical as you deserve.”

You spend the rest of the call discussing your vacation itinerary and plans for when your families will join you in Sardinia.

Charles reassures you again not to worry about what others think.

“Soon we’ll share our love with the world. But for now, let’s just focus on us,” he says softly.

By the time you hang up, your frustration has faded. Matteo and Livia may not believe you but in a few short weeks you’ll be cruising the bright blue Mediterranean with the man of your dreams.

The day finally comes for your trip to begin. As Charles helps you aboard the sleek yacht, you forget all about your friends. They don’t know him like you do. And they definitely don’t know how he kisses you goodbye at the airport or the special way his eyes light up when he says “I love you.”

This vacation will be everything you’ve been dreaming of. And you know Charles will do whatever it takes to make it unforgettable.

As the yacht pulls away from the marina, the only thing on your mind is the blissful weeks ahead with your love. Everything else fades blissfully into the background.

***

You walk with the group of engineering students through the halls of Maranello, thrilled to be back at the Ferrari factory. You did your internship here last year but walking around still feels surreal.

As you pass the simulator room, you hear someone call your name.

“Y/N! Hold on a second!”

You turn and see Gianni, one of the simulator engineers you befriended during your internship. He jogs over holding a sleek black ring.

“Charles left this after his session the other day,” he presses the familiar band into your palm. “Can you get it back to him?” Gianni asks.

You grin, turning the ring over in your hands. Charles hates taking off his Oura fitness tracker but has to for simulator runs.

“Of course, I’ll give it back to him when I’m in Monaco.”

You turn back to your friends, expecting this to be the final push they need to believe you.

But Livia just rolls her eyes. “Come on Y/N, he is obviously in on this whole charade. I bet you convinced him to play along!”

The other students nod, chuckling. Your smile disappears.

“What? No, Gianni and I really worked together when I interned here! This isn’t some weird prank,” you insist.

Matteo pats your shoulder condescendingly. “It’s alright, you don’t have to keep pretending with us. We get it, you want people to think you’re dating Charles Leclerc. But it’s getting kind of sad now.”

You clench your fists in frustration as the group moves on. Why are they being so stubborn? You clearly know people here and have a real connection to Charles.

When you pass the aerodynamics lab, your mood lifts a bit. Your favorite team leader, Fabio, is there working on computational fluid dynamics simulations.

“Y/N! So great to see you back here!” He greets you warmly and pulls you into a friendly hug.

You chat with him for a few minutes, explaining about the visit. As you say goodbye, he adds, “Tell Charles I said hi when you see him this weekend!”

But Matteo just scoffs as you walk away. “Let me guess — he’s in on it too?”

You don’t even bother responding this time, too irritated. Why should you have to convince your so-called friends of anything? You don’t owe them proof when they’re clearly set on ignoring it.

As the tour concludes, Livia pulls you aside, her expression serious.

“Look Y/N, we’re a bit worried about you. All these stories ... it just seems unhealthy. We think you should talk to someone,” she says gently.

You gape at her. “Unhealthy? Because I mentioned my boyfriend a few times on a trip to his workplace? You guys are unbelievable.”

Livia frowns. “Come on, it’s more than that and you know it. The jewelry, the car, the traveling ... it’s all an elaborate fantasy life. We just want what’s best for you.”

You feel anger bubbling up inside you. Livia reaches for your arm but you jerk away.

“You want what’s best for me? Then start believing me! I love Charles and he loves me. I don’t need therapy just because you refuse to accept the facts,” you snap.

Livia looks taken aback. You don’t wait for her response, just turn on your heel and stalk away fuming.

You pull out your phone and call Charles, needing to vent. When he picks up, the sound of his voice instantly calms you.

Charles listens patiently as you recount the horrible field trip. “I’m so sorry they’re being like this, ma belle,” he soothes. “But you handled it well. Don’t let them make you question yourself.”

You sigh. “I just wish they could see how happy you make me. I hate that our love seems so unbelievable.”

“It’s their loss for not seeing what we have,” Charles replies. “Soon everyone will realize that I only have eyes for you.”

You chat for a while longer, feeling reassured. Your friends’ doubt used to make you sad but now it mostly just angers you.

You know the truth. This weekend when you fly to Monaco and fall asleep in Charles’ arms, what Matteo and Livia think won’t matter one bit.

The only thing that matters is the love between you and Charles.

And one day, both of you will make sure the whole world knows that it’s as real as it gets.

***

It’s Friday morning and you’re stuck in your Principles of Advanced Aerodynamics lecture, anxiously watching the clock.

The Italian Grand Prix weekend starts today but your professor refused to excuse you from class early. Which means you’re missing out on precious hours with Charles before free practice later today.

You resigned yourself to not seeing him until tonight when the classroom door bursts open.

And there stands Charles, looking unfairly handsome in a Ferrari branded polo and jeans.

“Sorry to interrupt professor,” Charles flashes a charming grin. “But I’m going to need to steal Y/N away for the weekend.”

He shoots you a playful wink and your heart melts.

Your classmates erupt in excited whispers as they realize that the Charles Leclerc is standing in front of them. Your professor’s lips are moving but no discernible sound comes out.

The professor struggles to find words for a moment. “You’re ... you’re Charles Leclerc!” He stammers.

Charles smiles humbly. “Yes sir. And as I’m sure you know, the free practice for the Italian Grand Prix starts today. I’ll need to have my good luck charm there with from the very start.”

He extends his hand to you.

You grab your bag, legs wobbling as you make your way to the front. Charles wraps a supportive arm around your waist.

“You see professor, Y/N is my biggest supporter. My results improve dramatically when she’s present. So surely any Ferrari fan would agree that she must be trackside all weekend?” Charles urges charmingly.

The professor nods mutely before seeming to find his voice again. “Yes, of course! We certainly want the best results for Ferrari here at home. Y/N, you’re excused for the day. If you give me just a moment ...” He rummages through his bag with shaking hands and pulls out a Ferrari phone case.

“Would you mind?” He asks sheepishly.

“Not at all,” Charles smiles, taking the case and scrawling his signature across it with a provided permanent marker.

Your professor looks ready to faint. “Thank you so much. Enjoy the race weekend. Forza Ferrari, sempre!”

Trying not to laugh, you quickly gather up the rest of your things. Your friends watch wide-eyed as Charles takes your hand.

“Ready, mon amour?” He asks.

When you nod, he sweeps you into his arms and kisses you passionately in front of the entire class.

“I missed you,” he murmurs against your lips.

You cling to him, dizzy from the kiss. “Not as much as I missed you. I can’t believe you came here just to pick me up.”

Charles caresses your cheek. “I’ll always come for you. Now let’s get going to Monza. I want to show you how much I appreciated your good luck texts before practice.”

He keeps your hand clasped firmly in his as you make your way outside. When you glance back through the windows, your classmates are still staring after you in stunned disbelief.

Once you’re in the familiar 488 Pista, you finally let out the laugh you’ve been suppressing. “Did you see the looks on everyone’s faces? I thought Professor Mancini was actually going to faint.”

Charles grins. “I know dramatic gestures aren’t usually my style but I wanted them to see once and for all that you’re mine.”

He lifts your intertwined hands to his lips. “No more doubting our love after today. And I meant what I said — you’re my good luck charm, Y/N. Having you here this weekend means everything.”

You smile up at him softly. “I’m just happy I can be here to support you.”

He kisses you deeply, still parked outside of the Politecnico, not caring who sees. And you know without a doubt that this amazing man and your once-in-a-lifetime romance are completely real.

The rest of the day flies by in a blur of excitement. In between practice sessions, Charles takes any chance he can to steal moments alone with you in his driver’s room.

His tender kisses and whispered reminders of his love send your heart racing faster than an F1 car.

***

It’s race day in Monza and you’re walking through the paddock hand-in-hand with Charles. His physio and press officer trail behind you both as Charles waves to the cheering Tifosi in the stands.

Suddenly, you hear voices calling your name.

You look over to see Matteo and Livia leaning over the fence, trying to get your attention.

“Y/N! We’re so sorry we didn’t believe you!” Livia shouts.

“Please come talk to us!” Yells Matteo. “We feel awful about everything!”

You stop short, conflicting emotions swirling through you. Charles senses your hesitation and squeezes your hand supportively.

“What do you want to do, mon cœur?” He asks. “I can try to get them paddock passes last minute if you want to talk.”

You bite your lip. Part of you wants them to witness first-hand the depth of your relationship with Charles. To show them just how wrong they were to mock and belittle your love.

But another part of you is still hurt by their stubborn refusal to believe you all this time. Do they really deserve VIP paddock access after the way they treated you?

“I don’t know, Charles ... they were so patronizing about our relationship for so long. I’m not sure they deserve the reward of paddock access after demeaning my feelings,” you reply.

Charles nods thoughtfully. “I understand. It’s completely up to you, of course. But it could be nice for them to see up close just how real our love is. Watching us together will help it finally sink in.”

You feel a smile tugging at your lips. Charles does make an appealing case ...

“Alright, I can’t say no to that adorable face,” you laugh and kiss his cheek. “But maybe keep them waiting a bit first as payback!”

Charles grins mischievously. “I think that can be arranged.” He pulls you in for a passionate kiss, dipping you backwards dramatically.

The crowd erupts in cheers and whistles, a wild and beautiful sea of Rosso Corsa.

When you come up for air, you see your friends watching open-mouthed from the stands. Charles winks at them over your shoulder before leading you away, his arm curled firmly around your waist.

Several hours later, Matteo and Livia finally receive their paddock passes. They rush over to you right away, profusely apologizing again.

“Seeing you and Charles together in class was unbelievable, but this ...” Matteo trails off, darting around at the bustling paddock with wide eyes. “You really are dating an F1 driver!”

You exchange an amused look with Charles. “Yes, that is what I’ve been trying to tell you for many months now,” you laugh.

Livia hugs you tightly. “I’m so sorry for ever doubting you. But after today, we’ll never question your relationship again.”

Charles wraps an arm around your shoulder. “I hope after witnessing our love up close, you will see there is nothing Y/N wouldn’t do for me, just as I would do the same for her.” He gazes down at you tenderly and you feel your heart skip a beat.

You and Charles both laugh as your friends turn red. “We’re really happy for you two,” mumbles Matteo. “Hopefully we can all start over now.”

Charles smiles kindly. “Of course! Y/N’s happiness is what matters most to me and I know how important her friends are to her.”

You feel yourself falling even more in love with this man and his endless patience and compassion.

The race keeps you on the edge of your seat from start to finish. When Charles takes the top step on the podium, you and your friends scream loudly enough to be heard in Milan.

That night at the celebration, Charles gives a sweet toast about how your love inspires him.

Matteo and Livia watch with tears in their eyes.

“Wow, when you said your boyfriend was romantic, you really meant it,” Livia whispers.

“I told you, Charles is one-of-a-kind. I’m so lucky to be his and to be loved by him.”

Charles comes over and pulls you into his arms, nuzzling your hair. “I’m the lucky one, mon ange.”

He stops and takes both of your hands, gazing into your eyes intently. “I never want you to doubt what we have, Y/N. You are everything to me. My whole world.”

Matteo shakes his head in wonder as he takes in the pure love clearly shining in both of your eyes. “We’re so sorry we ever doubted that what you have is real. Seeing you together, it’s obvious your love is straight out of a fairytale.”

You grin up at Charles, your heart overflowing. With his kisses still lingering on your lips and surrounded by friends who finally believe, you feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

Now everyone can see your love just as clearly as the two of you always have.

***

Today is the day you’ve been working towards for years — your graduation from the Politecnico di Milano with your Laurea Magistrale in Aeronautical Engineering.

The auditorium is packed with proud families as you line up with your classmates, dressed in formal robes and caps. Charles insisted on coming, despite it being right before the start of a triple header. And having him here means the world to you.

When your name is called, you grin widely as Charles’ cheers rise above the polite applause of the audience. He gives you a standing ovation, not caring that he is blocking everyone’s view.

His pride and support brings happy tears to your eyes. You blow him a discreet kiss and see him pretend to catch it, pressing his hand to his heart.

After the ceremony ends, you rush straight into Charles’ arms. He swings you around then kisses you deeply. “I’m so proud of you, mon amour! All of your hard work has paid off.”

You hug him tight, overwhelmed with emotions. “Having you here today, supporting me every step ... it’s the best gift I could ask for.”

Charles strokes your hair tenderly. “I wouldn’t have missed this for anything. But I do have one more surprise ...”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out an envelope with the unmistakable Ferrari seal.

Handing it to you, Charles bounces excitedly on his toes. “Go on, open it!”

With shaking hands, you open the letter and read the words offering you a position as a Junior Aerodynamics Engineer with Scuderia Ferrari.

“Charles, what ... how ...” you stammer in shock.

He smiles widely. “Enrico Cardile was very impressed with the work you did during your internship as well as your thesis.”

You continue staring at the letter. “But I don’t want special treatment just because I’m your girlfriend. I want to earn a position at Ferrari on my own merits,” you say uncertainly.

Charles grasps your hands. “Mon ange, you know I would never influence the team’s decisions. They want you because of your skills, not our relationship. I only asked if I could deliver the news as a graduation gift when I found out.”

You bite your lip. “It’s just ... I don’t want anyone thinking that I didn’t earn this.”

“Listen to me,” Charles quickly gets serious. “You are the most talented, driven, and intelligent person I know. You’ve worked relentlessly for this and Ferrari recognizes that. Please don’t doubt for one second that you deserve this.”

His sincere words dissolve your concerns. He’s right — you interned successfully with the team already. You can do this.

You throw your arms around him again. “Then I accept the offer! I’m going to be a Formula 1 aerodynamicist!”

“You will be incredible, Y/N. I can’t wait to see you thriving there. You’re going to change the world with that beautiful mind of yours.”

You cling to him, overwhelmed with emotions. “I couldn’t have done any of this without your love and support. You gave me the strength to keep pursuing my dreams.”

Charles tips your forehead to his, eyes shining. “And you gave me the gift of true love. My life is so much richer with you in it.”

He kisses you until you’re both smiling too widely to continue. Taking his hand, you turn to look out at the gathered families, classmates, and professors mingling around.

Just months ago, no one believed your relationship with Charles was real. But here you stand, ready to take on the world together.

Your storybook romance has grown into an unshakable partnership.

As Charles squeezes your hand, you know that the next chapter of your lives will be even better. You can’t wait to build your future with this amazing man — both on and off the track.

***

10 years later

You take a deep breath as you walk into the familiar lecture hall at the Politecnico di Milano. Looking out at the eager young students, you remember sitting in their place not so long ago. Back when you were just starting your engineering studies, never dreaming you would one day return as a guest lecturer.

Charles insisted on coming with you today and you scan the room until you spot him sitting inconspicuously in the back row, trying his hardest not to draw attention to himself. He gives you an encouraging thumbs up.

“Good morning, everyone. For those who don’t know me, I am Y/N Leclerc — Head of Aero Development at Scuderia Ferrari and former student right here at Polimi.”

As you start your lecture on the aerodynamic theory behind Ferrari’s latest championship-winning car, you easily slip back into the familiar rhythms of university life.

Discussing complex simulations and wind tunnel testing with these eager minds reminds you of the days you were in their shoes.

You can hardly believe it’s been 10 years since you sat in this very room, never imagining the incredible journey ahead.

After joining Ferrari, you and Charles found ways to balance your personal and professional lives through compassion and communication.

Winning your first World Championship together was a euphoric blur of champagne and ecstatic team celebrations. Being the first female Director of Aerodynamics in Formula 1 was daunting but Charles never stopped believing in you.

When he got down on one knee after winning in Monza and asked you to be his wife, it was one of the happiest moments of your life. Planning a wedding while chasing championships was no easy feat but your passion for racing and each other kept you going.

Now, five championships later, you’ve settled into a blissful rhythm as partners both on and off the track. There were tough times and painful losses but coming home to each other’s arms helped erase the remnants of any bad day.

As you wrap up the lecture and open the floor to questions, a female student raises her hand. “As a woman working in F1, what’s the best advice you can give aspiring engineers like me?”

You smile, thinking back on your own self-doubts starting out. “Don’t be afraid to take up space and make your voice heard,” you tell her. “Formula 1 needs more brilliant women like you. If you love the science and the cars, pursue this career fiercely no matter what anyone says.”

The student thanks you excitedly and you make a mental note to talk to Charles about establishing an engineering scholarship for female students.

After the lecture finishes, Charles comes up to greet you with a tender kiss. “You were incredible up there. I’m so proud to call you my wife.”

You kiss him back, still just as dizzyingly in love as that first date all those years ago. “I couldn’t have done it without my biggest cheerleader here supporting me.”

As you walk hand-in-hand back to the car, you think about how far you’ve come together.

A storybook romance, successful careers, and most importantly, an unbreakable partnership built on love and trust.

When Charles said your love would overcome any doubt, you never imagined how right he would be.

But now, as the Italian sunlight glints off your matching wedding bands, you know the best is still yet to come.

[latin5mamii]

Jude Bellingham Comfort fluff??? Maybe reader is on her period and she suffers from endometriosis 🙏🫶🫶🫶

Silly comfort -Jude Bellingham

|WARNINGS: fluff and cute

|AUTHOR'S NOTE: loved writing this!If you have any other idea let me know girlie!

|SUMMARY:Your boyfriend is the only solution to your pain...

You were curled up on the couch, clutching a hot water bottle to your abdomen. The familiar, excruciating pain of your endometriosis had flared up again, and this time it seemed worse than ever. The cramps were relentless, and no amount of painkillers seemed to help.

The front door opened, and you heard Jude’s footsteps as he walked in. You had texted him earlier, letting him know you weren't feeling well, but you hadn’t expected him to come over so soon.

“Hey, love,” Jude said softly as he entered the living room. His eyes immediately filled with concern when he saw you. “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible,” you admitted, your voice weak. “The cramps are really bad today.”

He frowned, coming over to sit beside you. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Is there anything I can do to help?”

You shook your head, wincing as another wave of pain washed over you. Jude reached out and gently took the hot water bottle from you, placing it on the coffee table. He then carefully gathered you into his arms, holding you close.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Just try to relax.”

You nestled against his chest, feeling his warmth and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It was comforting, and despite the pain, you felt a little better just being close to him.

“Have you eaten anything?” he asked, stroking your hair.

“No, I don’t really have an appetite,” you replied.

“How about some tea? It might help a bit,” he suggested.

You nodded, and Jude gently laid you back against the cushions before heading to the kitchen. You could hear him moving around, the sound of the kettle boiling, and soon he returned with a steaming mug of chamomile tea.

“Here you go,” he said, handing it to you. “Drink it slowly.”

You took a sip, the warmth of the tea soothing your throat. Jude sat beside you again, his arm around your shoulders.

“Thank you,” you murmured, leaning into him.

“Anything for you,” he replied, rubbing your arm gently. “I hate seeing you in pain.”

You closed your eyes, savoring the comfort of his presence. Despite the pain, having Jude there made everything a little more bearable.

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” he asked. “Maybe it’ll help take your mind off things.”

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” you said, managing a small smile.

Jude picked up the remote and turned on the TV, scrolling through the options until you found your favorite cringy-romantic movie. As the movie started, he settled back, making sure you were comfortable against him.

“Do you remember the first time we watched this?” he asked, a mischievous glint in his eye. “You laughed so hard you snorted soda out of your nose.”

You chuckled, the memory brightening your mood a little. “Yeah, I remember. You teased me about it for days.”

“I still have the video,” he said, grinning. “Want to see it?”

“Oh, no you don’t,” you warned, but you couldn’t help laughing as he pulled out his phone and started playing the video. Seeing your younger self, doubled over with laughter, did make you smile despite the pain.

“You were so adorable,” Jude said, kissing your temple. “Still are.”

As the movie played on, Jude started to get even sillier. He mimicked the characters’ voices, exaggerating their accents and making you laugh. He made funny faces, did little dances, and even tried to do some of the more ridiculous scenes from the movie.

“Jude, stop,” you giggled, holding your side. “You’re going to make the cramps worse!”

“But laughter is the best medicine!” he declared dramatically, making you laugh even more.

Despite the pain, you couldn’t help but feel lighter. Jude’s antics were working, and for a little while, you forgot about the discomfort.

After the movie, Jude turned to you with a serious look on his face. “I have one more trick up my sleeve,” he said.

“What’s that?” you asked, curious.

“Tickle attack!” he shouted, and before you could react, he was gently tickling your sides. You squealed, trying to squirm away, but he was relentless.

“Jude, stop! I surrender!” you laughed, breathless.

He finally relented, pulling you into a tight hug. “I just want to see you smile,” he said softly. “Even when things are tough.”

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with love. “Thank you, Jude. You always know how to make me feel better.”

“Anything for you,” he said, kissing your forehead. “Now, how about we order some comfort food and watch another movie?”

“That sounds perfect,” you agreed, snuggling closer to him. With Jude by your side, you knew you could get through anything.

[pomefioredove]

HIYYYAAAA

JUST SAW THE FLRITY PROMPTS EVENT!

What do you say about Lilia with "Don't bite your lip, I want to do that."

I would say hgghh💕💖❤️

summary: "don't bite your lip, I want to do that" type of post: short fic characters: lilia additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is kinda implied to be yuu but doesn't have to be, not proofread, Lilia is shamelessly flirty thank u a part of this event

There are very few things that still manage to catch Lilia by surprise.

At his age, he's simply running out of new experiences; school, politics, even the wonderful world of the internet have started becoming monotonous and boring, leaving him in a slump.

Perhaps, then, that's why he's taken such an interest in you.

Such an intriguing little creature, he thinks, watching you from the shadows of the Diasomnia lounge.

You'd come by to drop something off for Malleus, the sweet thing that you are, and, once again, Lilia finds himself shamelessly staring.

He knows he shouldn't, but, oh, he truly can't help himself!

He inches closer. Lilia can't help but wonder what sort of noise you'll make when he startles you this time. A gasp? A shout, perhaps? Maybe even a cute little squeak... the thought of that is strangely exciting to him.

Only one way to find out.

He drops out of the shadows, blocking you from the exit just as you turn towards it. "Hello!"

And... Nothing.

You smile. "Ah... hello again, Lilia. Did Malleus tell you I was coming?"

His arms fall to his sides with a pout. Nothing? Nothing at all? You look at him like he has something stuck in his teeth.

"He may have mentioned," Lilia sighs. "You're impossible to tease these days. It's quite disappointing, really."

You smile slightly, much to his bemusement. He hates letting you have the upper hand... "Maybe I've started anticipating your pranks. You'll just need to find some new material,"

New material...? He scoffs. You're not even the least bit concerned about him!

"It used to be so easy to get a rise out of you. Humans change far too fast," he laments.

"Now I'll never get to see that flustered look on your face ever again! Or I'll have to come up with something new to tease you with..."

"Orrrr... you could just not tease me at all?"

He chuckles, shaking his head as if you had just said something ridiculous. "With your precious reactions? Impossible!"

You sigh.

Lilia tuts, tapping his chin as if lost in deep thought. He circles you once, twice, then stops in front of you.

"I can't think of anything," he sighs dramatically. "It'll come to me later... Is that uniform new?"

"Oh, uh..." you mutter, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. You turn around yourself in a circle. How cute.

"Well, it's the same uniform, but I got my measurements taken at Pomefiore, and they they got me a better fitting one."

"I can tell,"

He hums pleasantly, dragging his eyes over your body. "They did a wonderful job accentuating your features,"

You huff and look away, much to his delight, clearly taken by surprise by his change in tone.

"...Thank you,"

"Fufufu. Don't mention it," Lilia says, eyes narrowing. "You don't get complimented very much, do you?"

"Not regularly,"

"I could surmise as much. Why, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're almost flustered by little old me. Is that right?"

Hook, line, and sinker. Your eyes widen as you realize that you've walked right into his trap. "Oh, no, no. I'm not. I'm fine!"

"Really? Don't get shy on me, now. I'm beginning to like this even more than scaring you,"

He takes a step forward, drinking in the sight of you, your body's nervous reactions to his teasing. "How cute,"

"Tease," you say, biting the corner of your lip.

You back yourself against the wall of the lounge, to his absolute delight, and he takes that as an invitation to get closer.

"That I am," Lilia admits without a hint of shame. "But don't bite your lip... I want to do that."

That long sought-after squeak finally escapes you, music to his ears, and he leans closer. For a moment, it seems like he's about to close the distance between you... then, at the last second, he pulls back.

He chuckles. "Oh, what fun! I haven't felt so young in ages. But I do have other business to attend to,"

And so, Lilia leaves you stunned, trembling against the wall as he merrily walks off before you seem to come to your senses.

"Vanrouge, you little shit! Get back here!"

A slight giggle escapes him as he starts off running, with you not far behind. He was right; this is much, much more rewarding than scaring you.

Maybe, if you make another one of those cute noises, he'll even let you catch him.

[phyrestartr]

Deal With It (P.1) | Gojo x M!Reader |

W/C: 2.8k C/W: depictions of self-harm, depictions of depression, poor mental health, stress, mental illness, arranged marriage, hostile relationships, smoking, language, violence Tags: SFW, hurt/comfort, drama, canon-typical violence, character growth, eventual romantic feelings, eventual fluff and good vibes, kouhai gojo, senpai reader, plot and lore

Tag List: @pleniluneg4ze @aizen-lover @easnowpw @tomiokasecretlover @snoweclipsese @mef0rg0r @soulsire @kiiyoooo @reiluvr @fricking-ur-mom @cucumbertoptier @enchantingkitty @mira-la-sol @deepestartisanhumanoidshark @animadi888 @cloudserenity @sageofspades @dietothemusic @prettorett @animadi888 @playboygeniusphilanthropist @chikai-k @starrykie

1.

“So, you really don’t care what he thinks?” Shoko asked as you lit her cigarette. “Even I think he was kinda harsh.”

You pocketed your lighter and leaned back against the cold college walls. “He’s got a thing for that black-haired guy.”

“Getou.” 

“Sure.” You shrugged and tried to rub the ache out of your neck as you stared up at the bleak, grey skies. The air reeked of petrichor. Thankfully you’d brought an umbrella that day. 

“And you’re not bothered he’s in love with Getou?” Your friend continued, her cute bobbed haircut swaying with the tilt of her head. She always looked so charming like that, when she was being a mischievous brat while pretending to be anything but. 

“Dunno.” And that was the truth. “He’s not even my type. I’d rather hitch up with someone like you or Nanami. Someone less annoying. Less loud-mouthed.” 

“Ooh, that'll hurt his ego.” Shoko smiled. “Well, guess you'll have to learn to deal with it.”

You took a deep breath and rubbed your face as you nodded. “Yeah.”

–

“Forever is a long time,” You mumbled, leaning your forehead against the cool touch of the window. Rain pittered and pattered, exploding off the glass like trillions of kamikaze planes. It almost birthed some sort of hurt in your chest. Best not to dwell on it, you decided.

“Hah? Are you talking to yourself again like a weirdo?” The one and only Gojo Satoru yowled before kicking you in the rear like a petulant child. “Pft! Figures. Knowing my luck, I would have to get married to a creeper.” 

“Even if you married Getou, you'd still be marrying a creep,” you grumbled, dusting the dirt off your behind. “You need something? Or did you harass me just for the fun of it?” 

You heard Gojo, your fiancé, scoff and shuffle behind you. “I just wanted to remind you to humble yourself! Just because I'm forced to marry you doesn't mean you're accomplished or cool or anything, got it?” 

Being in his presence had you craving a cigarette. “Yeah, got it.” 

“And Suguru's better than you,” he added, aloof voice bowing down beneath hardened, steeled words. “Don't forget that either.” 

You bit down on your cheek to ward away the heat building under your skin, the magma sinking deep into your eyesockets and threatening to pour down your esophagus. The taste of iron washed against your tongue, and you released your flesh from between your molars. Sometimes, you wanted to keep boring down on yourself to see how much you could really take, but a fear of the answer too often made you think twice. 

“This is starting to bore me,” you said, tilting your head as you caught a flicker of red in your rain-muddied reflection. You touched your fingers to your tongue and found blood coating the tips. 

“Pah. I was gonna say the same!” You watched his reflection turn away. “Good luck trying to impress me.” 

I'm not interested. You watched him walk away, slouching and with his hands in his pockets like he was emulating some kind of yankii character. He might have fit the bill, if he hadn't had such a ridiculous, brat side to him.

Just deal with it. You wiped the red on your uniform with a sigh. Tomorrow's a new day. 

—

“Sorry about Satoru,” Getou said. He'd found you outside, tucked close against the stone wall with a cigarette in your mouth as you watched the downpour. Apparently, he liked the rain, too. 

“You don't need to apologize,” you said after a drag. “It's not your fault.” Probably. 

The younger sorcerer smiled a little bit wider. “In a way, it almost is; Satoru wouldn't be coming after you if it weren't for my, ah, sheer existence, I guess you could say.”

You shrugged. “You didn't ask to exist,” you said, secretly cringing as the words left your mouth.

Getou laughed. “Ho, that's a good point, I didn't think about it that way.” Another chuckle left him as he leaned against the wall beside you and stared at the rain. “It's definitely Satoru's fault, then.”

You hummed in agreement and offered him a cigarette. He blinked, but plucked one out of the box and looked it over before fumbling to tuck the end into his mouth as you held the lighter's flame out for him. You blocked the wind as he leaned in and inhaled deeply until the butt hissed to life with molten red. A beat later, Getou sputtered and coughed wildly, waving his hand through the air to dismiss your stare and the smoke's mockery. 

You frowned. “You don't smoke?” 

Your company wheezed and laughed, leaning back against the wall with a humbled smile. “Just wanted to see what all the fuss was about,” he said. “You and Ieiri—I feel like I never see either of you without a cigarette.”

“Life’s stressful, I guess.” You looked at the half-spent smoke in your hand, exhaling smoke through your nose as you thought.

You saw Getou lean in out of the corner of your eye. His dark hair brushed against your shoulder, though it could have just been the wind, too. “It doesn't affect you?” 

“Shoko reverses the negatives,” you grumbled. You stuck the cigarette into the corner of your mouth again before pocketing your hands. “Lung cancer would be an easier out than getting ripped to shreds by a curse, besides.” 

“Ho? You think so?” Getou teased. “You don't think you'd go mad? Laying in bed, suffocating in your own body, just waiting to die?” 

You shrugged. “It's a human way to go, at least. Random. Maybe self-imposed, sometimes. But…normal.” 

Time slowed for a second as Getou stared at you. You hazarded a look for once in your life, and caught the enigmatic thing's warm, obsidian eyes. They gave you pause, made you wonder, sent your mind reeling as you caught glints of jagged edges disrupting smooth, volcanic glass. 

“Are you alright?” You asked without thinking. 

Getou blinked, then smiled. “I just think you're interesting, senpai.” He glanced down at the smoldering stick caught between his fingers. “It's a surprise, to be honest. I think Satoru'll be in good hands with you.” 

You stared down at the puddle pooling around your boots. Another self stared back, his image ruined and distorted by raindrops crashing into him, yet he was still clearer than the version trapped in your skull. Maybe the mirrored image was your real self, and you were just the distortion. “I don't have much of a choice, I guess. But I’ll try my best.”

“That’s all we can really hope for with partners, right?” 

“Right.” A moment passed. “You’re oddly okay with this.” 

“I’m not taking it personally,” Getou said. “How can I? Neither of you want to do this, anyway—you hardly even tolerate each other in the first place, and now Satoru’s gone extra crazy about it.” 

The ground felt a little more solid under your feet, and you were a little more real, after those words were spoken. Even the reflection in the puddle grew clearer, revealing fresh colours once concealed by grey thoughts. Something would drain the world of its saturation again, but that moment would stay with you until that day came. 

“Thanks,” you said with some difficulty. “The thought’s appreciated.” 

“It’s the least I can do.” His hand clasped your shoulder and squeezed gently. You forced yourself not to shrink away from it like a slug trying to flee a grain of salt. “Thanks for putting up with him, senpai. Most people aren’t so charitable. Besides,” he said, leaning in close enough for his breath to brush against your ear, “I get whatever Satoru gets, and you get whatever he has, no? What’s yours is mine, what’s mine is yours, and all that?”

Heat scattered across your face and prickled the length of your spine. You were foolish to forget that Getou was a menace, just like Gojo, yet somehow more lethal. 

“Sure.” You didn’t look at him. You couldn’t look at him. It’d be a death sentence. “You’ll get as much as he gets, I guess.”

Getou chuckled and backed off. “We’ll see.”

–

Gojo threw open the door to your room and zoomed inside, socked feet sliding against smooth hardwood. “It’s me!” 

He slipped and fell as soon as you turned to look at him. “It’s you.” You snatched your walkman out of the air as it tipped off your desk following the sorcerer's tumble. “Why is it you?”

“Rude!” Gojo spat out in-between his pained whining. “I'm your fiancé! I'm allowed to be here!”

“That's not really how that works.” You watched Gojo melt into a starfish, stomach down, cheek smooshed against the floorboards. 

And you turned away, back to your work of flipping through astronomical charts and comparing the dates and info with the briefs sent to you, the one third year who bothered to stay. The admins relied on you too much, yet thankfully left the role of guidance counselor and teacher to someone older and more tolerant like Yaga. Still, the sparks of hope that were Utahime and Shoko promised some future relief for—

“Mou, why aren't you more concerned for your fiancé’s well-being?” Gojo whined. 

“I'm more concerned about your sudden desire for me to be concerned,” you offered. 

Gojo gasped and sat up in a whirlwind. “I never said I desired your concern! That's so salacious.” 

“Is this because Getou spoke with me?” You asked, leaning back into your chair with a sigh. 

“No!” He rebuked. “Maybe,” he said. “You better not be trying to win him over ‘cause you’re jealous.” 

“I’m not interested in him,” you snapped. “I’m not interested in you.”

“Hmmm, sounds fake. Everyone loves me.”

“Right.”

“You think there’s any chance they’ll call off the engagement?” 

“No.” 

“Can’t you, like, look into the future and figure it out?” 

You frowned and sent him a look. “What?”

Gojo swayed side to side, hands tucked in the middle of his criss-crossed legs like a kindergartener. “Isn’t that your thing?” He huffed. “Doing pre-op stuff, predicting future events, never really going out on missions ‘cause you’re low-key kinda weak in the field?” A ghoulish snicker left him. “I mean, you’re waaay weaker than me, so—”

“I don’t divine for myself,” you said, voice sharp and jagged. “I help avoid disasters. I help foresee assignment outcomes and the best way to move towards or away from them. I don’t—” You swallowed and caught your breath. “I don’t divine the fates of people.” 

“Well, maybe you should,” Gojo said, sobering slightly. “I don’t wanna do this, you don’t wanna do this, why don’t you just check and see how we can avoid it, huh? This is kind of a natural disaster in its own way.” 

“It’s just an arrangement,” you rasped. “You’ll get over it.”

“I shouldn’t have to.” Gojo frowned in return. “I’m gonna be the strongest sorcerer in the world. I don’t have to settle for an arranged marriage.” 

Your heart thudded dully in the back of your skull, its rising pace shaking the cage keeping it safe. Your throat tightened, too, while your thoughts warped and rippled into one another like your reflection, unable to stay whole under the devastation of falling rain, until you heard everything but nothing at once.

Your face must have done something strange for Gojo to look at you like you were a kicked puppy. You hated it, the way his expression flickered and the way his posture lost its self-righteous poise despite his childish way of sitting. He looked less-than. You didn’t mean to make him look that way. 

“I—” He tried, but you raised a hand. He fell silent. 

“I’ll look into it,” you said. “You’ll know if I find anything.”

If Gojo said anything more, you didn't hear it. You shut the rest of the world out and lost yourself in the positions of planets and the elements of each sorcerer available for future missions, comparing and contrasting the direction of energies to decide who would be best suited for which job. Losing your mind in the charts and data calmed your mind and spirit, easing you back down to an equilibrium until the sun rose again and you’d forgotten the turmoil of the hours before. 

Morning already. You squinted looking out your window and closed the blinds with a quick snap. Right after the blinds settled, you heard a snore. 

Gojo Satoru was asleep in your bed. His gangly arms hugged a pillow to his chest as he laid on his side, facing your way. The odd sight of peace on the younger sorcerer's face drew you in, bringing you close enough to get a good look at the snowy lashes resting against porcelain skin. He always looked odd to you, as though he were some kind of inhuman human, like an alien trying to put on the guise of your fellow terrans. But he was very much human; the glimpses caught of him during a distantly shared childhood proved as much. 

I don’t wanna do this, you don’t wanna do this, why don’t you just check and see how we can avoid it, huh? 

You'd never tell him you already tried to divine that. You could never relay properly how your mind burned with ways to discount your work and force self-doubt into what you knew to be true time after time after time; you were going to marry him. There was no way out. 

But there were still some things you could judge.

You sat down at your desk and skimmed through files until you happened upon Getou Suguru. Your heart hit your ribs a little faster, a little harder, as you found his birthdate and recognized his element as metal. It suited him. Gojo, on the other hand, held earth energy. That coupled with the more Western-normalized fire sign Sagittarius, explained him in a way that could be regarded as violating by those who didn't understand. 

You rubbed your brows and squeezed your eyes closed until sparking colours and inky black splotches danced against your eyelids. Charting the stars, understanding people, contrasting energies and suggesting changes to ensure favourable outcomes—all were the culmination of onmyoudou, the ancient art that carved the path and existence for jujutsu, but people feared an onymoji’s ability to read people more than the destruction caused by sorcerers. Onmyoji helped empires move, assisted in bringing them good fortune and positive outcomes; they could foretell what a person should and shouldn’t do. Clairvoyance born from calculations, and the wielding of shikigami by those clairvoyants, reeked of power and the abuse of it. 

Curiosity wrenched your eyes back open. You blinked away the stars and darkness until your vision and mind cleared enough to let you draw up a timeline of events and planets you’d already looked over a thousand times. 

You frowned and double checked, triple checked, quadruple checked the facts after a first look. You glanced at birthdates again and again. You looked for anomalies in the calendar and cross-referenced your sources. All stayed the same, all were as they’d been five and sixty minutes ago—you were too good at your job to be wrong, yet you still always held out hope for errors and your own incompetency. 

You leaned back in your chair and picked at a hangnail. You can always redirect energy for the sake of a client, you recalled; your mother had taught you as much. It might not be perfect, but we can try. You pulled at the sliver of skin until you gouged it out of your finger, leaving a bloody wound and a shred of relief in its wake.

You jumped as your door slid open to reveal Yaga. His train of thought stopped dead in its tracks as he spied the bratty Gojo curled up in your bed, snoozing without a care.

“What the hell is he doin’ here?” Your teacher groused. 

“He came in to harass me, I guess,” you said. “Then apparently fell asleep when I started ignoring him.” 

“Hah. Yeah, that kid can't function unless someone's giving him attention.” Your superior sighed and crossed his arms. “Anyway, you have those predictions?” 

“Yeah, I—yeah, just one second.” You rubbed your eyes and begged the rest of your lifeforce to lock it in as you saved documents and compiled them in an email for all the higher-ups to view. Something about the process made your spine rattle; it must have been the fear of not CC-ing someone by accident. “Sent.”

Yaga checked his phone as it dinged. He took a moment to skim through the forecast and nodded, letting you stand impatiently before him. 

“Looks like you touched on everything,” he said as he tucked his phone away. “Good job. Now get some rest, you look like shit.” 

Yaga took his leave, and you stared at the oversized baby hogging your bed. 

Rest. You nudged and pushed Gojo into the wall before collapsing beside him. Right.

[orangeblossomsintheair]

BUTCHERED TONGUE | CS55

summary : carlos is going to teach you spanish whether you like it or not.

wc: 0.9k

an : this is a thing my bf does to me so i thought it’d be cute :> non-spanish speaking reader!!

Carlos’ latest obsession is, by far, the most infuriating one yet.

Forget about his short-lived fascination with perfecting latte art or his undying allegiance to the soccer team he won’t shut up about. No, this is worse.

He has declared it his personal mission to teach you Spanish.

The most maddening part? His methods. Subtle? No. Gentle? Not a chance. He’s decided that every sweet moment between you is an opportunity to slip in a little Español.

You’re tangled in the blankets, half-asleep, basking in the comfort of a warm bed when you feel the mattress dip beside you. A soft breath brushes against your cheek, then, nothing. Silence.

Your eyes remain closed, waiting for the familiar morning kiss.

Nothing.

You frown. “…Carlos?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re just… sitting there?”

A pause. Then, his voice, far too smug for the hour, “I’m waiting.”

“For what?” you mumble, burrowing deeper into the blankets.

“For you to ask me properly.”

You crack one eye open. He’s leaning over you, grinning like a cat who caught the canary. “Carlos,” you groan, “kiss me.”

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “No, no, no, bebé. En español, por favor.”

Your glare could set the room on fire. “Carlos, it’s too early for this.”

“¿Demasiado temprano para aprender?” He gasps dramatically. “Nunca es demasiado temprano para aprender español.”

You groan louder, rolling onto your stomach. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m a dedicated teacher.”

“You’re an obnoxious teacher.”

Carlos leans in closer, lips hovering just out of reach. “Say it. Dámelo.”

Your brain, still fogged with sleep, tries to piece together his demand. “Dámelo… what does that even mean?”

His grin widens. “It means ‘give it to me.’ Very fitting, no?”

You grab a pillow and launch it at his face. He catches it effortlessly, laughing.

“¡Violencia!” he cries, clutching the pillow to his chest. “Is this how you treat your teacher? After all I do for you?”

“Carlos,” you growl.

“Yes, mi amor?”

“Just. Kiss. Me.”

He leans down, lips brushing your ear. “Pídemelo bien.”

You let out a strangled noise. “You’re impossible!”

“I’m waiting~”

You squeeze your eyes shut, gathering the shreds of your dignity. “Carlos, dame un beso.”

A satisfied hum leaves his throat. “Mmm, qué bonita suenas cuando hablas español.”

And finally—finally—his lips meet yours, soft and warm. You melt instantly, fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him closer.

But it’s over too quickly.

You blink up at him, betrayed. “That’s it?”

He taps his lips. “Your pronunciation was a little off.”

Your mouth drops open. “Excuse me?!”

Carlos laughs, dodging the swipe you aim at him. “Relax, bebé, I’m kidding. Mostly.” He settles back on his elbows, still grinning. “But if you want another one… conjugate el verbo ‘besar’ en presente.”

You groan so loudly it rattles the windows. “Carlos!”

“What? It’s very simple. Yo beso, tú besas, él besa…”

“Nosotros rompemos,” you snap, throwing the blankets over your head.

Carlos bursts into laughter. “Oh, so now you can conjugate!”

You peek out just enough to glare at him. “You are so lucky you’re cute.”

He smirks, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “Y tú eres muy afortunada de tenerme.”

You huff but can’t fight the small smile tugging at your lips. “Fine. What’s ‘kiss me again’ in Spanish?”

Carlos lights up like you handed him a trophy. “Bésame otra vez.”

You try to repeat it, but your tongue stumbles. “Bes…a…me otra vez?”

His eyes soften. “Perfecto.”

You hum, feigning thoughtfulness. “And what’s ‘stop being annoying’?”

Carlos gasps. “Deja de ser molesto. But that’s not nearly as romantic.”

“Oh, but it’s accurate.”

“You wound me.” He clutches his chest. “After all this effort to enrich your mind-”

“To torture me.”

“-to nurture your linguistic abilities-”

“Molesto.”

Carlos leans in, eyes gleaming. “You love it.”

Unfortunately, you kind of do.

—-

Later, Carlos continues his relentless campaign.

You’re in the kitchen, trying to make coffee, when arms wrap around your waist. A chin rests on your shoulder.

“¿Qué haces?” he murmurs into your neck.

You sigh. “Trying to survive.”

“That’s not Spanish.”

“I’m ignoring you.”

“That’s also not Spanish.”

You sigh deeply. “Estoy… intentando… sobrevivir.”

Carlos squeezes you, proud. “¡Muy bien!”

“Coffee first. Spanish later.”

“Coffee is Spanish. Café.”

You elbow him lightly. “Stop.”

He laughs but doesn’t let go. “Okay, okay. But when you drink it, say está delicioso.”

“If I spill it on you, that’s intentional.”

“Intencional. Good job, bebé!”

You groan but can’t help laughing.

—-

By afternoon, Carlos has moved on to labeling objects around the house with sticky notes.

You walk into the living room and find the remote with a bright yellow note: control remoto.

The fridge: refrigerador.

Even the dog is not spared, a tiny note precariously taped to its collar: perro.

You stare at Carlos, who is sitting smugly on the couch.

“Really?”

“What? Visual aids are very effective.”

“You labeled the dog.”

Carlos shrugs. “Perro needs to know who he is.”

The dog glares at him and stalks off.

You pluck a sticky note off the lamp. “This is getting out of hand.”

Carlos leans forward. “You’re learning, though.”

“I’m learning to throw these at you.”

“Lánzamelos. Go ahead.”

You throw one at his forehead. It sticks. He doesn’t even blink.

“Wow. Fluent.”

—-

By evening, you’re curled up on the couch, Carlos half-asleep beside you.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” you murmur.

“Mmm. Ridículo.”

You nudge him. “I’m serious.”

His eyes crack open, lazy and soft. “But you’re learning.”

You sigh, letting your head fall onto his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah.”

Carlos smiles, eyes closing again. “Te quiero, bebé.”

You smile against his shirt. “Love you too.”

A beat.

“Say it in Spanish.”

You groan into his chest. “Carlos-”

“Come on…”

“…Yo también te quiero.”

Carlos hums contentedly, pressing a kiss to your hair. “Perfecta.”