#fake whipped cream and ice cream are easy

[lookninjas]

So I've been eating small amounts of hard cheeses lately, a little butter, a slice of pizza with some mozz on it. So naturally, I can also have a dish with a sour cream based sauce, right?

WRONG. SO WRONG.

[lostfracturess]

HOW TO FAKE DATE A DOCTOR — SATORU GOJO

pairing — doctor!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary — for six months, you've watched dr. satoru gojo order the sweetest coffee on your menu every morning at exactly 7:15 AM. for six months, you've convinced yourself his intense stares must mean he's spotted something medically concerning about you—maybe a suspicious mole or concerning symptom. but when a desperate white lie about a fake boyfriend results in him volunteering to play the part at your family's christmas dinner, what begins as a simple pretend relationship might just turn into something real.

word count — 9 k

genre/tags — coffee shop AU, holiday romance, fake dating, friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn, fluff, idiots in love, reader is a med student and barista, gojo is a cardiologist, age difference (reader is 25/gojo early 30s)

warnings — 16+ ONLY. contains suggestive sexual content, non-graphic medical talk

author's note — hey lovelies, welcome to my first attempt at a holiday romance. this was meant to be a short drabble but somehow turned into this 9 k words of pure fluff and pining. it's my little christmas gift to you all hehe. whether you're celebrating with family, working holiday shifts, or just enjoying a quiet day, hope this makes you smile. thank you for reading, and merry christmas !! <3 (fanart in the header)

masterlist

You first noticed him six months ago.

It wasn't just because he was strikingly handsome, with hair the color of fresh snow and the bluest eyes you'd ever seen, though that certainly didn't hurt. It wasn't even because of his white coat and the stethoscope casually draped around his neck, marking him as one of the doctors from the nearby hospital.

No, what caught your attention was the way he looked at you.

Every morning, like clockwork, the bell above the door would chime at precisely 7:15 AM, and Dr. Satoru Gojo would walk into your café. He'd order the sweetest drink on your menu (always with extra whipped cream), and while you prepared it, his eyes would follow your every movement.

It wasn't creepy or uncomfortable. And it definitely wasn't flirting — at least, you didn't think it was. Perhaps he saw something, a suspicious mole you'd never noticed, and now he was trying to figure out how to tell the coffee girl she’s dying without ruining her morning rush. 

That had to be it.

You’d catch his gaze lingering when he thought you weren't looking. Sometimes, he'd tilt his head slightly, a small, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. It made you wonder what he was thinking. Was he judging your latte art? Probably. You were still working on that.

But when you turned around to give him his iced vanilla latte with extra whipped cream and three shots of caramel (it never varied, not once in six months), he'd break his smile to you, his gaze softening for a second, and then his fingers would brush against yours as you handed him the paper cup.

He always thanked you with “Much appreciated”. It made your heart skip a beat, if you'd be honest. Not that you read all too much into it of course. And so for six months, this had been your routine. 

5:30 AM: Arrive at the café.

6:00 AM: Open up, prep for the day. 

7:13 AM: Start making his drink because you knew he'd walk in exactly two minutes later. 

7:15 AM: Heart fluttering slightly as your hand brushed his as you gave him his order.

10:00 AM: Shift end. 

10:30 AM: Rush to classes.

Some mornings, he’d arrive in wrinkled scrubs, the faint scent of antiseptic clinging to him. Other days, it was a tailored dress shirt, sometimes with a matching tie. But the routine never changed.

Same order, same time, the same easy smile that would soften slightly when you remembered his order without him having to say it. Not that it was hard to begin with. 

“Someone’s got a secret admirer,” Maki would say, nudging you with her elbow as Dr. Gojo left. You’d roll your eyes, but a faint blush crept up your neck anyway.

Between customers, you'd try to squeeze in some studying. The early morning shift wasn't exactly ideal, but it paid better, and you needed every cent you could get for your pre-med textbooks. Those things cost more than your rent, it felt like.

Your anatomy textbook usually lay open behind the counter, hidden from customers' view but accessible during slower moments. Sometimes, when the morning rush died down, you'd catch Dr. Gojo's eyes flickering to the pages as you made his latte. His expression would shift slightly, but he never commented on it.

You wondered sometimes if he was judging your highlighting technique (chaotic at best) or your margin notes (mostly question marks). He must have gone through all this years ago, probably with much more grace than your current fumbling through medical terminology.

The café job barely covered your expenses — between tuition, rent, and those damn textbooks — but at least it was flexible with your class schedule. Your manager understood when you needed to switch shifts for exams, and the free coffee helped during all-nighters.

Your coworkers thought you were crazy for taking such early shifts. "No one should be awake at 5:30 AM," they'd say. But they didn't understand the quiet peace of morning prep, the satisfaction of perfect latte art, or the way certain blue eyes would crinkle at the corners when you got his order just right.

It was a small thing, a fleeting smile, a brush of fingertips, but it was enough to make the early mornings, the aching feet, the constant struggle, almost worth it.

Not that you stuck to this schedule just for him. Obviously not. The extra dollar per hour for opening shift was the real motivator. The fact that it coincided with Dr. Gojo's apparent coffee schedule was just... coincidence.

Sometimes, during chaotic study sessions between customers, you'd catch him watching you mouth medical terms to yourself as you steamed milk. His eyes would linger on your textbook, then flick back to your face with that same intense look that made you wonder if he was counting your remaining days or something—or still trying to figure out if that one mole on your cheek was turning malignant.

The morning you had your anatomy midterm, your textbook sat next to the register, full of sticky notes and frantic annotations. You saw him notice it, saw something shift in his expression as he took in the obvious signs of exam stress. That day, he left an extra large tip with a small note that just said "Good luck."

It was probably just pity. He'd been through med school. He knew the hell you were going through. That had to be it. Absolutely. No other explanation.

That’s what you told yourself, anyway, as you added the note into your wallet, shoving it down next to a crumpled grocery list and a faded movie ticket stub, as if burying it under a pile of mundane objects could somehow bury the flutter in your chest.

For six months, this had been your life. Balancing early mornings, late classes, endless studying, and the mystery of a doctor who looked at you like you were a puzzle he couldn't quite solve.

So when he finally broke pattern that random rainy monday morning, it wasn't with some dramatic revelation about your health you’d imagined. Instead, he tilted his head slightly while waiting for his usual and said, "You changed your hair."

You nearly dropped the caramel syrup. After six months of intense stares and loaded silences, after convincing yourself he was cataloging your symptoms or contemplating your mortality, he was commenting on your hair?

"Oh." Your hand instinctively went to the ends you'd trimmed over the weekend. "Yeah, just a few inches."

"It suits you." He said it so casually, like he hadn't just shattered half a year of mysterious doctor mystique with three words. Then, with that same matter-of-fact tone, "The pathophysiology textbook you were reading last week—Robbins, right? It’s really good. Especially the part about metaplasia. Interesting stuff."

And just like that, the spell was broken. No terminal diagnosis. No earth-shattering revelations. Just a doctor who apparently noticed haircuts and had opinions about medical textbooks. 

The sudden normalcy of it all was almost jarring. For months, you’d been half-convinced he was silently cataloging your every freckle, every mole, every perceived imperfection, convinced he was about to deliver some devastating news. Now? He was talking about metaplasia. It was almot—anticlimactic. 

And, if you were being honest, a little embarrassing. All those covert checks in the reflection of the espresso machine, all those frantic Google searches for “atypical nevi”—for this?

You almost wanted to laugh.

After that day, your morning routine shifted slightly. He still came in at exactly 7:15, still ordered the same diabetis-inducing latte, still watched you work with those intense blue eyes the color of glacial ice. But now he'd occasionally comment on your study materials, or mention an interesting case that related to whatever chapter you were currently highlighting.

"Cardiac arrhythmias today?" he'd ask, spotting your textbook. "Had a case of atrial fibrillation yesterday. The patient presented with…" He’d then launch into a quick explanation, sketching a diagram on a napkin that somehow made more sense than three hours of lecture on the same topic.

Your coworkers were almost disappointed by this development. "That's it?" Maki had said when you told her. "Six months of smoldering looks and he just... helps you study?"

But somehow, it felt right. The mysterious doctor with pretty eyes turned out to be just a man who noticed details and perhaps had a soft spot for struggling med students. 

He still made your heart do that stupid flutter thing when his fingers brushed yours during the handoff, but now you had a perfectly logical explanation for that of course—the vagus nerve or some other equally fascinating cardiovascular phenomenon he'd just explained.

That had to be it.

Some mornings, when the café was quiet and you were stumped by a concept, he'd even linger a few minutes after getting his order. He’d lean against the counter, close enough that you could smell the faint scent of his cologne, gesturing with his cup while breaking down complex medical theories into digestible pieces, somehow making autoimmune disorders sound as simple as iced latte recipes. 

"You'll make a good doctor," he said one morning, completely out of nowhere and your cheeks flushed a deep crimson.

Your relationship—if you could even call it that—settled into something comfortably in-between. More than customer and barista, less than friends, but with a rhythm all its own. He'd quiz you while you made his usual, turning morning coffee runs into study sessions.

"Name three complications of chronic hypertension," he'd say while you pumped caramel into his cup.

"Increased risk of heart attack, stroke, and kidney disease," you'd reply, adding the extra shot of espresso he never actually ordered but always appreciated.

"Good. Now tell me about secondary causes."

One random Tuesday morning, however, the bell didn't chime at 7:15. You glanced at the clock, then back at the door. 

7:16. 

7:17. 

A knot of unease tightened in your stomach. It was ridiculous, really. Why did you even care? He was just a customer. A regular customer, yes, but still just a customer. It wasn't like you were waiting for him or anything. You were just—used to the routine. That was all. 

But despite your attempts at rationalization, a small, nagging worry began to gnaw at you. Had something happened? Was he okay? You found yourself staring at the door, your hand hovering over the espresso machine, your usual movements faltering slightly. You even messed up a latte, the foam swirling into a sad, lopsided blob instead of the usual pretty rosetta. 

At 7:20, just as you were about to convince yourself he’d just overslept and that you were being completely ridiculous, the bell finally rang. He rushed in, slightly out of breath, his cheeks flushed. "Sorry I'm late," he said, his voice a little rushed. "Crazy morning at the hospital."

He looked like he’d run all the way, which was odd. Why would he run? It’s not like his coffee was that important. Right? And yet, your stupid heart did a little flip at the sight of him, a traitorous swell of warmth blooming in your chest. He made it. He was here.

He stayed extra long that morning. After the rush died down, he listened to you recite your flashcards, correcting your pronunciation of medical terms with a patience that made you wonder if he moonlighted as a professor. It was a strange sort of intimacy, this shared moment of slow study amidst the busy morning rush and the soft hum of the refrigerators. 

And you never wanted that morning to end.

Your coworkers had stopped teasing you about him—mostly—and started asking if he could explain their own health questions instead. Then came the random stormy Wednesday that changed everything.

The morning had started normally enough—he arriving at 7:15 sharp, you already having his sugar latte ready. But the sky had opened up while he was waiting, rain drumming against the café windows. It wasn’t a gentle shower. It was a deluge, the kind that turned streets into rivers in minutes.

"Did you bring an umbrella?" he asked, watching you glance at the downpour.

"No," you sighed, already dreading the soggy walk to campus. "I checked the forecast last night—it said sunny all day." You internally cursed the weather app.

"When does your shift end?"

"Huh? Oh, uhm 10 AM. I have microbiology at 10:30."

His lips twitched into a faint smile and he left without another word. You tried not to feel disappointed—what had you expected? It's not like he could control the weather.

But at 10 AM sharp, as you were pulling your jacket tighter and preparing to make a run for it, you spotted him through the rain-streaked windows. He was standing outside the café in his white coat, holding a large dark blue umbrella. 

Your heart definitely did more than flutter this time.

"Ready?" he asked when you emerged, as if waiting in the pouring rain for some barista was perfectly normal doctor behavior.

"You didn't have to—"

"Can't have my favorite barista catching pneumonia," he said. "Besides, I'm heading that direction anyway." You knew for a fact the hospital was in the opposite direction.

The walk to campus was suddenly—intimate. It was strange being this close to him. You’d seen him every morning for months, but always across the counter, a safe distance separating you. Now, you were walking side-by-side, the scent of his cologne so close it made it hard to focus on anything but his proximity, to say the least.

"So, what are you studying in Microbiology?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"We're covering bacterial pathogenesis this week," you replied, and the conversation drifted naturally to a discussion of how different pathogens could affect various organ systems like it was normal small talk.

As other pedestrians passed, their own umbrellas bobbing and weaving, he’d subtly pull you closer. Each time he did, your breath would catch in your throat, and a fresh wave of warmth would wash over you. You were grateful for his height, because you were certain your cheeks were flushed a deep shade of red.

It was absurd, how flustered you were by such a simple act, but the feeling of his arm occasionally brushing against yours, the shared intimacy of the small space beneath the umbrella, was enough to send your heart racing.

Desperate to focus on something else, you blurted out, "What kind of doctor are you, anyway? I never actually asked."

"Cardiology," he replied simply.

“Cardiology,” you repeated, the word lingering on your tongue. A doctor of the heart. When you reached the medical sciences building, he paused, lowering the umbrella slightly. The rain had begun to ease, but the air still smelled wet and clean.

"Thanks," you said, meeting his gaze. "For the umbrella escort."

"Anytime." That soft smile again, the one that made your heart do a stupid little skip again.

As you watched him walk away, umbrella tilted against the rain, you realized something had shifted. Maybe you weren't quite friends, maybe you weren't quite anything definable, but whatever this was—it felt like the beginning of something. Something more than just sharing an umbrella on rainy days.

⋆꙳•❅•̩❅*̩‧͙ *̩❆₊˚｡❆

Winter arrived on a random thursday morning, transforming rain into snow and turning your early morning walks to work into arctic expeditions.

It was during one of these frigid mornings, while you were preparing Dr. Gojo's usual order and the steam from the espresso machines fogging up the frost-covered windows, that your phone rang. Your mother's contact photo flashed on the screen.

You answered with your phone pressed between ear and shoulder, still working the machines. "Hi, Mom."

"Sweetheart! I was just planning Christmas dinner. You're bringing someone this year, right? That nice boy from your anatomy class you mentioned?"

You winced, catching Dr. Gojo's raised eyebrow from where he stood at the counter. "Mom—"

"Because Aunt Marie's daughter just got engaged, and you know how she gets—"

"My boyfriend's actually busy with hospital rotations," you blurted out, immediately wanting to punch yourself. "He's, uh, very dedicated to his work."

"Boyfriend? Why didn't you tell me? What's his name? What does he—"

"Sorry, Mom, huge line forming, gotta go!" You hung up, letting your forehead thump against the coffee machine with a groan.

"That sounded stressful," Dr. Gojo commented, amusement clear in his voice.

You looked up to find him watching you with that slight smile that always made you shiver. "Just my mom being... my mom." You resumed making his latte. "She's convinced that at twenty-five, I'm practically a spinster."

"Ah." He tilted his head. "And this fictional boyfriend with hospital rotations?"

Your cheeks heated. "Seemed easier than explaining why I'm still single. Between work, classes, and studying, I barely have time to sleep, let alone date." You handed him his usual. "Plus, now she'll stop trying to set me up with every eligible male she meets through her book club."

"A creative solution," he said, taking a sip. "Though hospital rotations over Christmas? Sounds like a terrible boyfriend." A playful smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Yeah, well, imaginary men are often disappointing." You started wiping down the counter, needing something to do with your hands. "At least this way I'll have a few weeks of peace before I have to tell her we broke up."

"Sounds like you've done this before," he observed, watching you attack an imaginary coffee stain with perhaps too much force.

"Is it that obvious?" You sighed, abandoning your fake cleaning. "Last year he was studying abroad. The year before that, he was sick. I'm running out of excuses, honestly. Pretty sure my mom's stopped believing me, but she plays along because it's less awkward than admitting we both know I'm lying."

He made a thoughtful sound, then pulled out his prescription pad (why did doctors always carry those around anyway?). You watched, confused, as he scribbled something down and slid it across the counter.

"Here," he said. "My number. Call me during Christmas dinner."

You stared at him. "What?"

"Well, your imaginary boyfriend should at least make an effort, don't you think?" His eyes held that familiar amusement. "I'll tell your mom all about my very important hospital rounds, maybe throw in some medical words. Make it convincing."

You stared at him, mouth slightly agape. Was he… offering to pretend to be your boyfriend? You couldn't quite process what was happening. 

"You know," he said, after you'd probably been quiet for too long, "some of us actually do work hospital rotations over Christmas."

"I know, I just—" You stopped, realizing how her words might have sounded. "Oh god, I didn't mean to imply… I know you probably have to work during the holidays too, I wasn't trying to—"

"Someone has to make sure all those Christmas dinner caused heart attacks are properly treated," he interrupted, that familiar, almost-smirk back on his face, easing the tension in your shoulders. "Though I do get Christmas morning off this year."

You couldn't tell if he was trying to make you feel better about your lie, your accidental insult, or just sharing information. With Dr. Gojo, it was often hard to tell. After a moment of stunned silence, you managed, "Are you… sure?"

"Perfectly.”

"Thank you," you said, finally finding your voice as you picked up the slip of paper. "Really, thank you."

"Anytime," he said, that familiar, soft smile gracing his lips. "Consider it a Christmas gift. From your very dedicated, albeit fictional, boyfriend."

As you watched him leave, coffee in hand and snowflakes catching in his white hair. Even if he was probably going to tease you endlessly about your fictional, workaholic boyfriend for weeks to come, a small, stupid part of you was already looking forward to it.

⋆꙳•❅•̩❅*̩‧͙ *̩❆₊˚｡❆

The Christmas dinner was a random Friday night.

The table, laden with enough food to feed a small army, was surrounded by the usual suspects and the dinner turned out to be exactly as excruciating as you'd expected. You'd barely made it through the appetizers before the interrogation began.

"So, this boyfriend of yours," Aunt Marie started. "What did you say he does again?"

"He's a doctor," you said into your mashed potatoes.

"A doctor!" your mother brightened. "You never mentioned that part."

Your cousin Sarah leaned forward. "What kind of doctor? Where did he study? How did you meet?"

You were considering faking a sudden illness when your phone buzzed. Dr. Gojo's name lit up your screen with a video call request. You hadn't even suggested a video call—he was truly committing to this.

"Oh, that's him now!" Your mother said, clapping her hands together. "Put him on speaker!"

Before you could protest, you were surrounded by a sea of curious relatives as you answered the call. The screen filled with Dr. Gojo's face, and—oh god—he was actually in scrubs, in what looked like a real operating room.

"Hey, my love," he said as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and the casual nickname hit you like a train, making you forget your own name. You felt your cheeks flush and it didn’t help that he somehow managed to look unfairly handsome even under the surgical lights. "Sorry I couldn't make it. We had an emergency valve replacement come in."

"Are you... actually in surgery right now?" you asked.

"Just finished!" He tilted the phone slightly to show a glimpse of a team of medical staff behind him, all of whom waved. One even gave a thumbs up. "Thought I'd catch you before dessert. Is that your family I see?"

Your entire extended family crammed themselves into frame, cooing and waving at your "doctor boyfriend" who was dedicated enough to call from work.

"Oh my god, he's gorgeous," your cousin said.

"Dr. Gojo," your mother pushed forward, "we're so disappointed you couldn't join us. Though of course, saving lives comes first!"

"Please, call me Satoru," he said, flashing that unfairly attractive smile of his. "And I'm more disappointed than anyone. I was really looking forward to trying your famous apple pie that your daughter keeps telling me about."

Your mother clutched her chest, delighted. You had never once mentioned her apple pie to him. 

"Are those Christmas decorations I see in the OR?" your aunt squinted at the screen.

And indeed, there were actual Christmas lights strung up in the background. Either this hospital was very festive, or he'd gone to ridiculous lengths for this act.

"We try to keep the holiday spirit alive, even here," he said, then suddenly looked off-screen. "Oh, looks like we have another emergency coming in." Dramatic beeping noises increased in the background. "I'm so sorry, but duty calls. It was lovely meeting you all!"

"Such a dedicated young man," your mother sighed after you ended the call.

"So handsome too," Aunt Marie added. "Those eyes!"

You slumped in your chair, caught between mortification and amusement. He really didn't have to go that far—the Christmas lights in the OR? The perfectly timed “emergency”? The entire surgical team playing along? It was almost impressive.

Your phone buzzed with a text: 'How'd I do? The lights were my colleague's idea. They says Merry Christmas, by the way. Your family seems nice.'

Another buzz, a separate message: 'Also, I expect a slice of that famous apple pie at the café tomorrow. After that performance, I think I've earned it.'

You typed back: 'You are absolutely insufferable. That was completely over the top.'

His response came almost instantly: 'Is that any way to talk to your dedicated doctor boyfriend who just saved a life AND charmed your entire family? I'm hurt.'

Despite yourself, you smiled.

Your phone buzzed one more time: 'By the way, your cousin already found my hospital's public contact info and sent a friend request. Should I accept? I feel like a committed boyfriend would.'

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. He was absolutely loving this. 

Way too much.

The next morning, you weren't surprised when he showed up at his usual 7:15, despite it being his day off. What did surprise you was that he was still wearing scrubs. They were rumpled, like he'd been wearing them for a while.

"Please tell me you didn't actually work all night just to make that video call more convincing," you said as he approached the counter.

"You know, I am a doctor in real life, right? This isn't just a cover for your mom." He smirked. "But anyway, just finished an actual emergency shift." He glanced at the paper bag you had waiting next to his usual sugary coffee. "Is that… what I think it is?"

"Your well-earned reward for yesterday's Oscar-worthy performance." You handed him both coffee and pie. "Though I still can't believe you got your entire surgical team to play along."

"Bold of you to assume I had to ask." He took a bite of the pie and his eyes widened slightly. "Okay, your mom's reputation is deserved. This is actually amazing."

"Yeah, well, enjoy it while it lasts, because—" You hesitated, took a deep breath, and decided to just rip the bandage off. "She invited you to dinner. Tomorrow."

He paused mid-bite. "Oh?"

"I told her you're probably busy—"

"What time?"

You stared at him. "What?"

"What time is dinner?" He took another bite of pie, looking perfectly casual about the whole thing. "I actually have Sunday evening off, and this pie has convinced me your mom's cooking is worth experiencing in person."

"You can't be serious."

"Why not?" He shrugged. "I've already met them virtually. Might as well complete the experience. Unless you're worried I'll embarrass you?"

"I'm worried you'll be too convincing again," you said. "My mom's already planning our wedding, by the way. She told me this morning that your 'dedication to work' proves you'd be a good husband."

"Well, I'd hate to disappoint a future mother-in-law."

"This isn't funny!"

"It's a little funny." He leaned against the counter, grinning. "Come on, one dinner. I promise to be slightly less charming this time."

"Somehow I doubt that's possible," you said before you could stop yourself.

His smile widened. "Was that a compliment?"

"That was a complaint about your inability to do anything halfway." You busied yourself with wiping down the already clean counter. "But fine. Sunday at seven. Try not to bring Christmas lights this time."

"No promises." He pushed off from the counter, taking his coffee and pie. "Oh, and by the way?"

"Hmm?"

"I accepted your cousin's friend request. She's already invited me to your family's New Year's party."

He was halfway to the door when he paused, turning back with an expression that was softer than his usual teasing smile. "You look pretty today, by the way. The new sweater suits you." 

You froze, your heart skipping a beat. You hadn't even realized he'd noticed you'd changed from your usual work shirt into a cozy sweater for your afternoon classes.

He was out the door before you could stammer out a response, leaving you to wonder what exactly you had gotten yourself into. And why one simple, genuine compliment made your heart race more than all his dramatic boyfriend performances combined.

⋆꙳•❅•̩❅*̩‧͙ *̩❆₊˚｡❆

Sunday evening found you pacing a worn path in the carpet by your parents' front door, checking your phone every two minutes. 7:15 came and went—apparently his almost unnervingly precise timing only applied to coffee runs. 

You tried to convince yourself it was fine, that doctors had unpredictable schedules, but a nervous flutter had taken up residence in your stomach.

At 7:20, your mom’s worried, "Maybe he got called into surgery?" was interrupted by the doorbell. You took a deep breath, smoothing down your dress, and opened the door.

Standing there was Dr. Gojo—Satoru, you supposed you should call him now—looking slightly disheveled in a way that somehow only emphasized his unfairly attractive features. His white dress shirt, though slightly untucked at the waist, bore the clear signs of a hurried ironing, and he was carrying what looked like an expensive bottle of wine—definitely not the kind you’d find at the corner store.

"I'm so sorry," he said, running a hand through his already slightly tousled white hair. "Emergency consultation ran late, and then traffic was—"

"It's fine," you interrupted, a wave of relief washing over you. He’d actually come. "Really. You didn't have to—"

But the rest of your sentence disappeared into a surprised squeak as he stepped forward, closing the small gap between you. He leaned in and gently pressed a kiss to your cheek, his free hand settling naturally on your waist, just above your hip, as if he’d done it a hundred times before.

"Hi," he whispered against your ear, and you could hear the smile in his voice. "Missed you today at the café."

You stood frozen, brain short-circuiting from the casual intimacy of it all. This wasn't part of the plan. You hadn't discussed... this. The way his hand felt warm through your dress, how his cologne made you slightly dizzy, how natural it felt to have him this close. It was as if your body already knew this was right, even if your mind was still scrambling to catch up.

"I... you..." Words. You needed words. "You're late."

He pulled back just enough to give you that familiar amused look. "And you're blushing."

Before you could even process that observation—or the fact that your heart was currently attempting to beat its way out of your chest—your mother appeared behind you. "Satoru! We're so glad you could make it!"

He smoothly stepped past you to greet your parents, all charm and apologies for his lateness, seamlessly weaving a plausible story about a last-minute emergency consult and unexpected traffic. He shook your father’s hand with just the right amount of respectful firmness and charmed your mother with a compliment about her festive decorations. All while he left you standing in the doorway, slightly dazed, trying to remember how to perform basic human functions like breathing and blinking.

The slight smirk he threw over his shoulder as he joined the others in the living room told you he knew exactly what he'd done.

Insufferable man.

The dinner was simultaneously the longest and shortest evening of your life. Satoru slipped into the role of doting boyfriend with an unsettling ease, weaving medical anecdotes (carefully tailored for a non-medical audience) and charming compliments into the conversation like he'd been rehearsing for weeks. He even managed to compliment Aunt Marie’s notoriously sweet cheesecake without visibly wincing.

He sat close enough that your legs brushed under the table, his hand finding its way to your knee during your mother's third attempt to bring up wedding venues (she was already browsing bridal magazines online, you’d noticed). The casual touch, which should have made you incredibly nervous, instead felt strangely good, like a shared secret between the two of you in the midst of the family chaos.

"And how did you two actually meet?" your aunt asked over dessert.

"She makes the best coffee in the city," Satoru answered smoothly, his thumb drawing absent circles on your thigh beneath the tablecloth. "Though it took me months to work up the courage to say more than my order."

You nearly choked on your wine. He was mixing truth and fiction so seamlessly you almost believed it yourself. 

Every story he told had just enough reality to make you question your own memory. He mentioned how you study between customers, but added details about imaginary conversations. He even talked about your first "date" with such specificity that you found yourself half-believing it had happened.

His hand never left your leg for long, occasionally squeezing gently when your relatives’ questions became too invasive. Somehow, he’d effortlessly positioned himself as both the charming guest and the attentive boyfriend, deflecting awkward questions with a disarming smile. And you’d never been so grateful for anything in your life as you were for him breaking the pattern on that random, rainy Monday morning.

"He even helped me with pathophysiology," you found yourself saying, leaning into him slightly, enjoying it. Two could play at this game.

"She didn't need much help," he replied, his voice laced with a warmth that sounded genuinely proud. It made your heart flutter. "Just someone to hold her flashcards while she made my ridiculously sweet coffee."

Your father, who hadn't said much all evening, finally smiled. "She works too hard sometimes."

"She does," Satoru agreed, his hand sliding just a fraction higher on your thigh under the table. "Though that's one of the things I admire most about her." A wave of heat rushed to your face, and you quickly looked away, focusing on a particularly uninteresting spot on the tablecloth. This is getting out of hand.

As the conversation shifted to some other topic—something about your uncle's questionable golf swing—you leaned in slightly, whispering just loud enough for him to hear, "You're awfully charming."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping lower so that only you could hear. "Funny, you don't seem to hate it." You felt your cheeks burn even hotter now.

By the time dinner ended, your mother was completely smitten, your aunts were bickering over who would host the next family gathering (with Satoru as the guest of honor, of course), and your cousin had somehow convinced him to follow her Instagram—and had already tagged him in three separate stories.

It was all too smooth, too perfect, too real. 

The way he helped you clear the table, his hand brushing the small of your back in a casual, yet intimate touch as he passed. How he effortlessly recalled every detail you’d ever mentioned about your family, from your grandmother’s obsession with crossword puzzles to your father’s love of bad puns. The soft, lingering looks he gave you when he thought no one was watching, filled with an emotion you couldn't quite decipher.

"You're very good at this," you said as you stood side by side at the sink, washing dishes after dinner.

"At what?"

"Playing pretend."

His hands paused for just a moment. "Who says I'm pretending?"

The wine glass you were drying slipped from your suddenly nerveless fingers. You managed to catch it before it shattered on the tile floor, but not before making enough noise to draw his attention.

"Hey." His hand was immediately at your waist, steadying you. "You okay?"

"Fine! I'm fine, just—" You set the glass down carefully, very aware of how close he was standing.  When you turned to face him, you found yourself effectively trapped between his broad frame and the hard edge of the kitchen counter. "Slippery hands. From the... soap."

"Hmm." His eyes searched your face, and for a fleeting moment, you thought—you could have sworn—his gaze flickered down to your lips before returning to meet your eyes. "You know, for someone who spends all day handling hot liquids, you've seemed very clumsy tonight."

"Maybe I'm just… distracted.”

You could feel the warmth of his breath on your face as he leaned infinitesimally closer, his eyes fixed on yours. One hand came up to gently brush a stray strand of hair from your cheek, his fingertips grazing your skin, the contact sending a shiver down your spine. "By what?" 

"You're doing it again," you whispered.

"Doing what?"

"Being too convincing."

A slow, almost hesitant smile spread across his face. It was a smile that reached his eyes, a smile that felt utterly real, utterly intimate, making your heart stutter in your chest. "Perhaps," he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath against your skin, "maybe I'm not trying to convince anyone anymore."

You could feel his breath ghosting over your lips, the slight tremor in his hand where it rested on your waist, the way the kitchen suddenly felt too warm, too small, too—

"Who wants coffee?" your mother's voice carried from the dining room, making you both jump apart. Satoru cleared his throat, taking a hasty step back, his hand dropping from your waist. 

The rest of dinner passed in a surreal haze, neither of you quite able to forget the charged moment in the kitchen. What was that? You kept replaying the scene in your mind. His hand on your waist, his breath on your lips, the sudden shift in his eyes. It had felt… different. More real than any of the playacting. 

It wasn't until your aunt, after a drawn out round of goodbyes and air kisses, finally got up to leave that anyone noticed the shift in the weather. "Oh my goodness," your mother gasped, pulling back the curtains. "When did it start snowing?"

Outside, the world had transformed into a winter wonderland that would've been charming under different circumstances. At least a foot of snow covered everything, still falling heavily in thick, white sheets.

"The weather alert says it's going to continue all night," your father reported, checking his phone. "They're advising against any travel. Roads are already getting bad."

Your mother immediately switched into hostess mode. "You absolutely can't drive in this, Satoru. These roads won't be plowed until morning, at the earliest."

"I'm sure I can—" he started.

"Absolutely not," she interrupted. "You'll stay here tonight. Both of you."

You nearly choked on air. "Mom—"

"Don't be silly, dear," she said, already bustling towards the hallway. "You can take your old room, of course. It's all made up. Satoru," she called over her shoulder, "I'll go find some spare cloths for you." Then, turning back to you, she added, "And honey, you still have some things in your old room, so it'll be just like old times!"

Old times? What old times? Your childhood bedroom with those old embarrassing school photos and faded posters of your first boyband crush that you’d somehow never gotten around to taking down? This was not part of the plan. This was definitely not part of the plan.

He wasn't supposed to see that side of you.

As you counted down the seconds until you completely died from embarrassment your parents bustled off to prepare the rooms, leaving you and Satoru alone again. He leaned against the window, watching the snow fall, a small smile playing at his lips.

"Convenient weather we're having," you said suspiciously.

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you implying I somehow arranged a snowstorm?"

"At this point, I wouldn't put it past you."

His laugh was soft and warm. "As flattered as I am by your faith in my abilities, even I can't control the weather." He glanced at you. "Though I have to admit, this is working out better than my original plan of pretending my car wouldn't start."

"You're impossible," you groaned.

"So I've been told." He pushed off from the window, moving closer. He stopped just inches away, until you could feel the heat from his body. His gaze dropped—or you thought it did, your pulse quickening at the mere possibility—to your lips for the briefest of moments before returning to meet your eyes. You blinked, trying to clear your head. No, it couldn't be. "Though I notice you're not exactly complaining about the situation."

Before you could formulate a witty retort (or even a coherent thought, for that matter), your mother’s voice rang out from upstairs, effectively putting an end to whatever was about to happen. "I found some spare clothes, Satoru! And honey," she called down, "your old band t-shirts are still in your dresser!"

You covered your face with your hands. "Please forget everything she's about to show you."

"Now how could I possibly pass up the chance to see teenage you's fashion choices?" 

You peaked through your fingers to find him smirking, looking far too delighted by this turn of events. This was going to be a very long night.

⋆꙳•❅•̩❅*̩‧͙ *̩❆₊˚｡❆

"I really can sleep on the floor," Satoru offered for the third time, shifting his weight awkwardly in the doorway of your childhood bedroom. He looked around, taking in your teenage decorating choices, and you could practically hear the gears turning in his head.

"Don't be ridiculous." You tried to sound casual as you smoothed down the NASA bedsheets you'd had since high school on your small bed, that suddenly looked barely big enough for one, let alone two adults. "We're both adults. We can share a bed without it being weird."

He was quiet for a moment, and when you glanced up, you found him studying your teenage self's wall decorations with poorly hidden amusement. It was a chaotic mixture of faded movie posters (mostly featuring heartthrobs from your early teens), band posters (an ambarrasing One Direction poster taking center stage), and a poorly crafted periodic table, complete with hand-drawn elements and color-coded categories.

"Nice periodic table," he finally said.

"Shut up," you muttered, throwing a pillow at him. He caught it easily, because of course he did. "Some of us were nerds before med school."

You turned to your old closet, pulling out one of those oversized band t-shirts you'd lived in during high school. You gripped the hem of your sweater, suddenly very aware of his presence in the small room.

You could feel his eyes on you, a weight on your back, and you could feel the heat creeping up your neck. You paused, your fingers frozen on the soft knit. "Um… could you…?" you trailed off, not wanting to meet his gaze.

He didn't say anything, didn't move. You could practically feel his gaze burning into your back. Finally, you turned, holding your band t-shirt protectively in front of you. "Seriously. Turn around."

He blinked. "You know, I am a doctor. I've seen it all."

"Still," you insisted, your cheeks flushing. "Turn. Around."

He sighed, but finally turned his back, though the lingering amusement in his eyes told you he was still enjoying the situation immensely.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” you muttered, pulling the t-shirt over your head. You smoothed it down, then took a deep breath. 

"I would never," he said.

"You can turn around now."

He turned, his face carefully composed, though a telltale twitch at the corner of his mouth gave him away. His eyes traveled from the hem of the shirt to your face, making your heart stutter. "You look… cute."

"You're a terrible liar.”

You both settled into bed with careful movements, lying rigid as boards, backs facing each other in a vain attempt at maintaining some sort of personal space. The mattress, however, had other plans. It dipped under his weight, creating a subtle slope that kept trying to draw you toward the center—toward him. 

Your childhood bed, which had seemed perfectly adequate when you were sixteen, now felt absurdly small. You pressed against the edge, but it was no use, there couldn't have been more than a few inches between your back and his. You could feel the heat of his body, warming the small space between you, his every breath, the subtle shift of the sheets when he moved.

The silence stretched, filled only with the sound of falling snow outside your window and your own heartbeat. It felt so loud, you were certain he could hear it.

"Thank you," you finally whispered into the darkness. "For tonight. For all of it. You didn't have to do any of this."

The bed shifted as he turned over. After a moment's hesitation, you did too, finding yourself face to face with him in the dim light of the streetlamp filtering through your old curtains. His hair was disheveled from the pillow, his expression softer than you'd ever seen it.

"It was fun," he said simply, his breath warm against your cheek.

A small laugh escaped your lips. "Fun? My mom interrogated you about your entire medical history, my dad made you look at his coin collection for an hour, and my cousin tried to show you every embarrassing photo of me from middle school."

"The braces years were particularly charming."

You kicked his shin lightly under the covers. "Shut up."

He grinned, the warmth in his eyes visible even in the dim light. "I mean it, though. Your family is… lively."

"That's a polite way of saying chaotic."

"They care about you. It's nice."

You studied his face, searching for the truth in his words. "Why did you really come tonight? You could have easily found an excuse to avoid this disaster of a family dinner."

"Would you believe me if I said I wanted to?"

"No," you said. "Nobody wants to spend their evening being questioned by my parents and subjected to my aunt's weird baking."

He was quiet for a moment, his eyes never leaving yours. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, more serious. "Maybe I wanted to understand you better. See where you came from. Meet the people who made you... you."

Your heart stuttered in your chest. "Why would you care about any of that?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

You stared at him, suddenly very aware of how close you were, how little space there was between you in this too-small bed. "No," you whispered. "It's not obvious at all."

"Then I must be doing a terrible job of showing you."

Your heart was racing now, your voice barely audible. "Showing me what?"

Before you could respond, he shifted, until he was hovering above you. Your breath caught at the change, at how his white hair fell forward framing his face, at how his eyes seemed to hold entire galaxies in them.

And then he kissed you.

The kiss was nothing like the casual touch of lips from before. It was soft, sweet, and achingly tender at first. He moved against you slowly, his lips parting slightly, inviting you to deepen the kiss. You met his silent invitation, your own lips parting in response. One hand cupped your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek, while the other braced against the mattress, supporting his weight. 

Then, with a soft sigh, he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a gentle urgency that made your heart ache with a longing you hadn’t known you carried. He pulled you closer, just a fraction, the kiss becoming more urgent, more demanding, yet still laced with a surprising tenderness. 

You could feel the rapid thump of his heart against your own chest but then, just as suddenly as it began, he pulled back, breaking the kiss. He didn't move far, though, remaining close enough that you could still feel his breath on your face, see the rapid rise and fall of his chest. "Still think I'm just playing pretend?"

This time, you didn't hesitate. You were the one who moved forward, your hand sliding into his hair, the soft strands tangling around your fingers, pulling him back down to you. His surprised intake of breath was quickly lost as your lips met again.

This kiss was different—deeper, more urgent, six months of watching and waiting poured into a single moment. He made a low sound in his throat as your fingers tightened in his hair, urging him closer. 

His own hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, his fingers pressing gently into the sensitive skin there. The weight of him pressed you into the mattress, his warmth seeping through the thin fabric of your band t-shirt.

"I've wanted to do that since the first time you rolled your eyes at my coffee order," he said against your lips, his voice rough in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

"That long?" You tried to sound teasing, but it came out breathless instead.

He smiled against your lips. "Longer, probably." He pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth, then another to your jawline. "Though watching you try to diagnose yourself with every terrible disease I mentioned was pretty entertaining, too."

You groaned, burying your face in the crook of his neck. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Never," he agreed, pressing a kiss to your temple. Then, quieter, more intimate, "But I've got plenty of time to make it up to you."

His lips trailed down your neck, each gentle press sending shivers through your body. When he reached the collar of your t-shirt, he paused, his fingers toying with the hem. "Can I?"

You nodded, not trusting your voice, and he slowly, teasingly, pushed the fabric up, revealing your stomach inch by inch. The first brush of his lips against your bare skin made you gasp, your fingers tightening reflexively in his silky hair.

He took his time, pressing kisses to your belly, your ribs, the valley between your breasts. His tongue darted out, tasting your skin, leaving trails of fire in its wake. Your back arched, subtly at first, but with increasing urgency as his lips and hands explored your skin.

His fingers, still toying with the hem of your shirt, finally slipped beneath the fabric. He traced the curve of your waist, the swell of your breasts, leaving goosebumps in their wake. When his thumbs brushed over your nipples, you couldn't suppress the moan that escaped your lips. "More," you whispered, the word barely audible, but he heard it, his eyes flicking up to meet yours.

"You sure?"

"Yes," you breathed. "Please."

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your sleeping shorts. Your heart raced, your skin flushed, every nerve ending racing with the promise of what was to come.

He dragged the fabric down your legs, the cool air hitting your heated skin making you shiver. He settled between your thighs, his broad shoulders forcing your legs wider, and lifted one of your legs over his shoulder, his kisses trailing down your inner thigh. And then his mouth was on you, and the world fell away. 

⋆꙳•❅•̩❅*̩‧͙ *̩❆₊˚｡❆

The next morning felt like stepping into a dream—a world where Dr. Satoru Gojo, the man you’d spent six months convinced was silently diagnosing you with rare diseases, was actually just a man utterly smitten with you.

It was as if a blurry lens had finally snapped into focus, revealing a picture so obvious you almost laughed. All those intense stares, the carefully timed coffee shop visits, the way he’d linger at your counter, even helping you study—it had never been about mysterious illnesses or professional concern. 

He’d simply been trying to be near you, and you’d been too busy inventing medical mysteries to notice.

And the most embarrassing part? How obvious it had been to everyone else. Your coworkers’ knowing looks finally made sense, as did your mother’s immediate acceptance of him as your “boyfriend.” Even his colleagues had been in on it, helping stage that ridiculous Christmas video call just to make you smile. 

When you later confessed your obliviousness to your coworkers, their reactions ranged from “Finally!” to a bewildered “Wait, you mean he wasn’t actually your boyfriend this whole time?”

Over breakfast, as he effortlessly charmed your mother into accepting a third helping of pancakes he casually dropped the bomb to your mom, “I actually rearranged my entire consultation schedule to match her shifts. I don't even like coffee."

Your mind went blank for a moment. He… what? Then, the implications crashed down on you. He’d rearranged his entire work schedule just to see you. And he hated coffee. He’d only ever ordered those sugary lattes because… because of you.

A blush crept up your neck, and you couldn't believe how adorably dense you’d been.

He met your gaze then, his blue eyes softening in that way that always made your heart flutter. Only now you understood what that look truly meant. He hadn’t been studying you. He’d been cherishing you with his gaze. He’d wanted to see you, to be near you, to simply be with you. And the realization made you ridiculously, undeniably happy.

Satoru walked over to you from where he stood next to your mom and leaned down, his breath warm against your temple, and pressed a soft kiss there. You closed your eyes, savoring the simple touch. God, you wanted more. You wanted him closer, his arms around you, his lips on yours again, just like last night.

You'll probably never get enough of that.

He pulled back slightly, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin. His gaze held yours, a soft smile playing on his lips. Then he whispered three words that made your world stand still, "I love you."

Three little words.

But those three words little changed everything.

It felt as though time itself had stopped. He loves me, the thought echoed in your mind, a fragile, beautiful sound you couldn't quite believe was real. You’d imagined this moment countless times in secret, tucked away in the quiet corners of your heart, but you'd never truly believed it could happen.

And in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of his hand, the sweet scent of pancakes, and the soft morning light filtering through the kitchen window, you knew you’d never been happier in your entire life. 

And most importantly, you didn't have to pretend anymore. He wasn't just someone you were pretending to date for your family's sake. He was actually your boyfriend. Really, truly your boyfriend. And what had once felt like a performance suddenly felt very much like coming home.

But the best part? At exactly 7:15 the next morning, he still walked in, ordered his usual diabetes in a cup, and watched you work with those intense blue eyes. Only now, when you handed him his drink, he'd pull you close for a kiss that tasted of caramel and cinnamon.

"You know," he said one morning, watching you make his order, "for someone smart enough to get into med school, you were remarkably dense about this whole thing."

"Says the man who spent six months staring instead of just asking me out."

"I was building suspense."

"You were being creepy."

"Maybe," he said, then smilled. "But it worked, didn't it?"

And really, you couldn't argue with that. Though you did make his next latte extra sweet, just to watch him pretend to enjoy it.

After all, some things were worth suffering through overly sugary coffee for.

masterlist

author's note — if you're familiar with a certain story on my blog, then no you didn't see this story, and this is definitely not a healthier version of another couple, and i absolutely do not have a thing for medical AUs, okay thank you.

anway, this was supposed to get spicier, but time got away from me because i really wanted to share it with you all for christmas so this is only suggestive, but i hope you enjoyed it either way. & thank you so much for reading this far !! your support means everything to me.

wishing you all a very merry christmas !! hope your holidays are filled with sweet coffee, warm embraces, and maybe even a handsome doctor of your own <3

ps: if you want to get notifications for future updates, you can join my taglist here!

tags — @fayuki @starmapz @snowsilver2000 @starlightanyaaa @sxnkuna

@cocomanga @nanamis-baker @rosso-seta @shervinss @chiyokoemilia

@janbannan @bloopsstuff

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Partners-In-Crime

---

---

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: angst (like very substantial amount), fluff, happy ending

Category:F/M

Fandom: Seventeen (SVT), boyband

Relationships: !idol Mingyu x !idol f reader

Summary: In a whirlwind of fake dating to avoid breached contract lawsuit, Mingyu and Y/n navigate growing feelings, blurring lines between pretend and real.

Trope: Fake dating

---

Hiiiii everyone who is reading! Welcome to the ninth installment of my new mini series called "Oi! Not this again!" They do not have to be read together or in order! I hope you all enjoy!

I never really thought I’d find myself in this situation: fake dating one of the hottest idols in South Korea. Yet, here I am, sipping an iced caramel macchiato in a corner cafe, pretending that being next to Mingyu from SEVENTEEN is the most natural thing in the world. In reality, my heart is racing, and not in the good way.

“Y/N, could you, like, pretend to be happy?” Mingyu whispers through a tight smile, his voice barely audible over the ambient music and chatty customers. His dark eyes flicker with a mix of annoyance and desperation.

“I am happy,” I snap quietly, struggling to adjust the fake smile plastered on my face. “Well, as happy as I can be, considering I’m fake dating you.”

A little louder than intended, I notice a few heads turn our way. I can feel the pressure mounting. We’re supposed to be the doting couple everyone envies, yet the tension between us is thicker than the whipped cream on my drink.

His fingers drum impatiently on the table, the dull thud echoing my pounding heart. “This was your idea, remember? To throw off the media frenzy surrounding both of us.”

Sure, using the classic “fake dating” trope to divert media attention seemed brilliant in theory. We both had enough scandals and rumors hovering around us to last a lifetime. Pairing up would squash at least half of them.

Mingyu suddenly leans in, looking intently at the menu stuck between the salt and pepper shakers, but I know he isn’t paying attention to the array of overpriced sandwiches. “Y/N, if we don’t pull this off, Dispatch is going to have a field day. Again.”

I sigh, slumping back in my chair. “I know, I get it. But couldn’t we have found another way?”

He opens his mouth to argue but instead, a genuine laugh escapes his lips. “Like what? Publicly announce we’re focusing on our careers and ask for privacy?” The sarcasm in his voice isn’t lost on me.

“Okay, fair point.” I roll my eyes but can’t help a small smile. “So what’s the plan now, Mr. Perfect?”

His grip tightens on the table edge before he looks up with a smirk. “We’ve got a photoshoot tomorrow morning for a ‘couple’ branding campaign. We just need to act like we’re head-over-heels for each other, got it?”

I groan inwardly. Nothing like forced intimacy to kickstart a beautiful, fake relationship. “This is going to be a disaster.”

“Only if you make it one,” he teases, his smirk widening. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms smugly. “Or maybe you’re just afraid you’ll actually fall for my irresistible charm?”

I snort. “Keep dreaming, pretty boy.”

==

The next morning arrives faster than I’d like. The cosmetics studio is buzzing with activity. Staff members rush around, juggling makeup palettes and camera equipment, their energy palpable.

“Y/N! Mingyu! Over here!” the director waves us over to a pristine white set, where we’re expected to coo and swoon

“Showtime,” Mingyu whispers in my ear. His peppermint breath sends an involuntary shiver down my spine. This fake boyfriend thing is harder than it looks.

I force a smile, slipping my fingers through his as we pose for the cameras. Each flash feels like a dagger, reminding me this isn’t real. But for the sake of our careers, we plaster on the affection.

“Y/N, could you look at Mingyu like he’s the best thing that ever happened to you?” the photographer instructs, eyes focused behind the lens.

Like he’s the best thing that ever happened to me? Easy. I turn, my gaze softening as if on cue. As much as Mingyu frustrates me, he’s also been my confidant and partner-in-crime through this chaotic idol life. Maybe this won’t be so hard after all.

Mingyu meets my eyes, his expression unexpectedly tender. The lines of his face soften, making the acting feel less like an act.

We’re mid-pose when Mingyu decides to speak. “You know, you’re not as bad at this as I thought you’d be,” he says, his voice just loud enough for me to hear.

I raise an eyebrow, still maintaining my “loving” gaze for the photographer. "What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing. Just that maybe we should fake date more often. You’re adorable when you’re pretending.”

I falter, the smile slipping slightly. “Watch it, Mingyu.”

==

The hours pass and the shoot finally wraps. We receive a round of applause for our “chemistry,” and Mingyu pulls me into a side hug, his hand resting on my shoulder. Pretending becomes so much easier with each click of the camera.

“Good job today,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, tinged with genuine warmth.

For a moment, I almost forget we’re pretending. Almost.

“We pulled it off, didn’t we?” I muse, pressing my temple against his arm briefly before pulling away.

“Yeah,” he admits, his eyes locking onto mine. “We make a pretty good team, Y/N.”

Something in his gaze makes my heart stutter. It feels like he’s trying to say more, like he’s testing unfamiliar waters.

“Yeah, well don’t get used to it. This is still a temporary arrangement.” I remind myself more than him, with a fleeting half-smile.

==

Weeks roll by, and the line between fiction and reality starts to blur. Mingyu and I are inseparable, seen at award shows, interviews, seen leaving our "shared" house, and even the occasional late-night ramen shop. The media loves us. Fans dub us “the power couple of the decade.”

One evening, as we rehearse a choreographed routine for an upcoming awards show performance, the tension boils over. Mingyu’s patience breaks first.

“Y/N, you’re a step behind!” he snaps, frustration evident as he stops mid-spin. “We’ve done this a thousand times, what’s going on with you?”

Anger flares in my chest. “I’m sorry if I'm not perfect like you, okay?”

He throws his hands up in exasperation. “It’s not about being perfect, it’s about working together!”

“You think I don’t know that?!” I shout back, breathless. “This whole thing...it's draining, Mingyu. Maybe fake dating wasn't the best idea after all. Maybe…”

“Maybe what?” he challenges, stepping closer. “Maybe we should just end it? Announce it was all a prank?”

The space between us crackles with unspoken words, and I take a small step back, my chest heaving. “Maybe.”

His eyes search mine, the anger simmering into something else entirely—something raw and real. “And what if I don’t want it to end?”

Time stands still as his words hang in the air. The intensity in his gaze makes my heart race for an entirely different reason.

“What exactly are you saying?” I finally ask, needing clarity even if it feels terrifying.

He takes a deep breath, before lifting my head with his thumb on my chin and two under. “I’m saying...I don’t think this was ever just fake for me. And I don’t want it to be.”

My breath catches. Neither of us moves. The air feels charged and heavy with possibility.

“Me neither,” I admit, my voice barely a whisper, finally understanding the depth of my feelings.

A slow, almost relieved smile spreads across his face, and he reaches for my hand, linking our fingers together much like the first time we “acted” in love. Only now, it feels unforced, genuine.

The journey to real from fake has been messy, fraught with disagreements and tension, but standing here, looking into his eyes, I realize it was worth every moment.

“Looks like we’ve got a new script to follow,” Mingyu murmurs, his thumb caressing the back of my hand.

I smile, leaning into the comforting warmth of his presence. “Yeah, and this time, we don’t have to pretend.”

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

‐Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-Gabi✨️🎀

[gremlinshatephilosophers]

How Dan (Almost) Stole Christmas

Every Who Down in Who-ville Liked Christmas a lot…

But Daniel Who lived just outside Who-ville Did not!

Dan hated Christmas! The whole Christmas season! He had good reasons why, but no one asked him those reasons Instead they said that his head wasn’t right They told him instead he was being uptight But cynically, he accepted his fate after all That maybe his heart was just too cold and small.

But Whatever the reason That only he knew He looked out his window, hating the Whos Not in a prejudiced way, he thought with a frown As he envied their warm little houses in town He just knew as much as his life was sad and bleak They were buying more things, those capitalist freaks.

“Who still uses stockings?” he asked with a sneer “More last minute shopping when Christmas is already here!” He sat with his long fingers anxiously tapping “If only I could just stop this all from happening…”

For, Tomorrow, he knew…

… All the who girls and boys And nonbinary Whos too, would rush for those gadgets and toys And then! With thinly lined walls Dan’s ears would fill with noise! It was one of many things he despised, that NOISE!

Then the Whos, young and old, would sit down to a banquet While others went starving, without even a blanket With food in the fridge, fine any other day But not for holidays, they threw it away They would feast on Who-candies and Who-snacks Dan couldn’t stand the perspective they lacked!

And then They’d so something So annoying again All the Whos down in Who-ville and all of their friends Would gather at Who-church with crashing loud bells They’d pray to Who-gods and they’d shout and they’d yell.

Which was a personal gripe, that their singing was mid He really didn’t care about the religions they did But the singing was loud and, again, thin walls So he snapped, and he thought “I’ll just end it all! For thirty-three years I’ve been too polite! But only one of us will make it through this night! … alright?”

Then he got an idea! An insane idea Dan Howell Finally thought of a new idea!

“I know what I’ll do!” Dan laughed till he groaned And he grabbed the only red coat that he owned He was out of his mind, inventing wild tricks But squinting, from a distance, he cosplayed an evil Saint Nick!

“Now for a reindeer…” Dan looked all around But obviously there are no such creatures at home to be found But did it stop him from trying? “Of course not,” he said. “Who needs reindeer when you have a pig instead?” He snatched the cursed item, that sentient pig Broken and golden, but good for the gig.

Then He loaded some bags And more bags, and more All that old plastic From every old store.

In the night he crept out in the cold winter air Dan whipped the pig till it started to fly And they sleighed down cracked streets Racing down from the sky.

The windows weren’t dark, they were steaming TV But they were distracted enough that Dan could roam free When he stopped at his first target with nervous glee He looked at the chimneyed roof and decided “enough!” He could just use the back door with all of his stuff.

The Whos were too trusting, doors left unlocked And Dan opened the latch, and paused to take stock It was far too easy to rob these Who-homes blind He almost felt bad, before he made up his mind They were rich, all decked out in fake stuffed stockings And it was their greed all along he should really be mocking.

He tiptoed about, picking what to take first Around the whole room, choosing what would most hurt They were wealthy and shallow and Dan sure wasn’t that And they were landlords who kept raising the price on his flat So he took down the decor, those ornamental stuffed socks He took the iPhones and Switches and even pet rocks.

He threw the bags to the side and checked on the fridge Took the treats and the ice cream and left only a smidge They deserved to eat, but their plate would be bland He was a merely a thief, you must understand.

He was happy to see the wealthy get humbled But when he got to the tree, he quite nearly stumbled.

Had he gone too far, or was he just too lazy to lift it? His thought were confusing and messy and cryptic But before he could decide, footsteps came near It was a Who that was sleepy, lacking all fear.

Dan had been caught by this strange tired man! Should he play off his actions as some obsessive fan? This was Phil, Dan’s favorite Who-tube star “Don’t fans like you think this is a step too far?”

Dan tried to be fast and think on his feet “I’m so sorry,” he said, “I just wanted something to eat.” “Were you eating my tree?” Phil asked, sarcastic “Well if that’s what this is, I’m sure it’s fantastic.” “That’s a terrible lie, but I’ll get you a snack It might as well stop your little Christmas attack.”

Dan stood there, frozen in place An embarrassing blush crept up in his face He’d been caught by this man who was nothing but kind Why had he planned this, was he out of his mind?

He was out of his depth A one man army couldn’t redistribute wealth And he ran out the door, forgoing all stealth He didn’t want stolen goods, he wanted love, friendship, and health.

But the world wasn’t right And still he was angry, his head filled with shame And he took the stockings with him, one last little game.

So He peeked in the window Of other Who-houses.

Careful He took just one thing each Leaving crumbs for the mouses.

The sun had just rose And the Whos were asleep None of them knows What Dan’s done, not a peep So he tied up the pig and got back on the sled Back to that terrible flat, on a hill, in a shed.

So many feet up, to the bleak northern suburbs The presents all rattled and crinked and shuddered “I hate the materialism and I can’t stand the noise! Maybe now they’ll get a taste of life without toys! They’ll wake up in a moment and cry for their gifts They’ll shut up their singing and be sad for a bit And finally the Whos will understand how the rest of us live!”

And Dan added, “I guess, The crying is fine, as Who-noises go,” And he brought his pig-drawn sled to a halt in the snow.

And he did hear a sound, the echo acoustic It wasn’t them crying, but playing that music!

They weren’t upset Though they still sounded bad But they’d gotten his lesson They didn’t sound sad!

He stared down at Who-ville With shock in his eyes His hands nearly shook As he yelped in surprise!

The Whos had no gifts, even what Dan hadn’t yet snatched They just wanted community, no strings attached?

He hadn’t stopped Christmas from coming! It came! Somehow, yet unsurprisingly, it all came the same!

And Dan, with his cursed pet pig glowing golden Thought about how many stupid trinkets he’d stolen “They don’t need their gifts after all, so I must have been right! But then why is their village still a strange happy sight?” He thought and he thought and he thought up some more But then he gave up in the cold when his head got all sore “Maybe I should have just asked them before I stole all their things, what the glitter was for?”

And what happened then? Well, he wished he could say That he got noise-cancelling headphones and went on his way But deep in his core, he wasn’t really a Grinch The Whos shouldn’t have to do holidays in a pinch So he brought back the gifts, and some Who-food too And he…

… he himself… Dan went back to see Phil and spent a merry Christmas with the Whos!

[grandmother-goblin]

random ask: what is your go-to daily drink? your special occasion drink? detail delightful, recipe spectacular.

∧,,,∧ (  ̳• · • ̳) /    づ♡ I love you drinks [you're pretty cool though]

Ahhh thank you for the ask!

Besides ice water, my go-to daily drink would probably be either earl grey tea with a bit of honey and sweet cream OR a fake beer (the non alcoholic Coronas, Stella’s, and Athletic Brewing are my favorites). But really depends on what I’m in the mood for and what the weather is like!

For special occasions drinks, I love making hot cocoa or espresso drinks. My favorite hot cocoa is the salted caramel hot cocoa from William’s Sonoma (you can only get it around the holidays) and I make that with milk, whipped cream, a swirl of caramel, and finish it off with some shaved dark chocolate. (Though if I had easy access to them, I would probably add a Cadbury Flake as well lol)

I only make and drink hot cocoa a few times a year, and I like to make it pretty! ☕️

[her-no-bivore]

Autistic vegetarian here!

I really enjoy pan fried mushrooms, and if you shred them before you cook you can get an almost pulled pork/chicken texture- and if you mix it with a BBQ sauce and make a sandwich you probably won't even notice the difference.

Carrot cake is also an option! Simplest way is to just add shredded carrots to a yellow (or spiced!) cake mix, add 1½ teaspoon cinnamon, and a pinch (or 1-3 shakes) of cloves and nutmeg, then half the water, but otherwise follow the instructions. You can also add pineapple, raisins, or walnuts to it!

If you don't mind the texture of rice- I would consider most lentils to be similar in size, and I'll often mix the two together in dishes.

If you know where to look, most vegetarian sections in grocery stores will have "disguised" vegetables, burgers, wings, tenders- I've found all of them before and seen some really convincing "fakes". It's also just a good section to find pre-cooked foods that aren't pizza, lasagna, and chicken tenders.

You can find plenty of good potato/zucchini pancake recipes online, and it's easy enough to not notice if you add an extra carrot or something, especially with a sauce/dip.

Again if you like rice- cauliflower rice is a thing, my mom buys frozen pre-made bags, it's not that strong of a flavor in my opinion, and you can do whatever you want with it- it's a similar texture, maybe slightly harder depending on how you cook it.

There are hundreds of avocado mousse recipes- and for those that don't know, mousse is basically what you get when you mix whipped cream and melted chocolate- it's really good.

Finally, if none of these work- go buy a strawberry rhubarb pie from somewhere- if nothing else they go really well with vanilla ice cream.

i mean this in the gentlest way possible: you need to eat vegetables. you need to become comfortable with doing so. i do not care if you are a picky eater because of autism (hi, i used to be this person!), you need to find at least some vegetables you can eat. find a different way to prepare them. chances are you would like a vegetable you hate if you prepared it in a stew or roasted it with seasoning or included it as an ingredient in a recipe. just. please start eating better. potatoes and corn are not sufficient vegetables for a healthy diet.

[corrodedcoughin]

I've been having this thought

What if Steve has small rebellions that are east to hide from his parents

So this is inspired because I've seen a couple fics where eddie has a tounge piercing and I know nothing about tounge piercings but it occurs to me that if your parents don't let you talk and you never see them or only see them for a day or two it would be easy for Steve to do that as a small act of rebellion with Robin cheering him on

Maybe he also has a small tattoo somewhere (I always love him having a tiny ice cream cone or ice cream scoop somewhere and Robin having a matching one)

Robin helping Steve put on eye liner

(Eddie seeing Steve's tounge piercing and not functioning for a moment, Steve one day asking eddie about his tattoos because ' mine hurt a bit and it's tiny how bad was that one' and both the kids and eddie losing their minds because Steve has a tattoo and him refusing to tell them where it is (it's on his hip he's not telling them that though(eddie finds it eventually)))

-✏️

ANON IM RATTLING MY CAGE!!!! LET ME OUT SO I CAN THROW GIFTS AT YOU!!!

I LOVE this!!! In terms of a piercing though, how about a belly button piercing? Steve was undecided on what he would get, wanted something he could hide but also something he could show off when the time was right. So he settled on a belly bar.

He got through the healing process okay, wearing baggy tops at home to avoid catching the piercing on anything. When he was alone in his room he’d walk around with his shirt rolled up to a fake crop top, meaning he could tug it down at a moments notice. He loved the look of the bar and would stand in the mirror admiring it whenever he got the chance. Steve was just grateful he was out of school and out of the swim team, nobody would be seeing his piercing unless he wanted them to.

It hit summer time in Hawkins and the heat came with it. Steve was sweating under T-shirts when he’d been known to go around topless before. His parents didn’t ask though, in truth they didn’t notice.

The day that Steve and the older ones decided a day at his house with the pool and the kids was in order was the day Steve’s belly bar was unveiled. They’d all been sitting in their houses motionless because of the unrelenting sun. It had taken some time to round everyone up but eventually everyone was there, jumping to get into the cool water. Steve didn’t even think, just whipped his top off and plunged into the pool to dunk Dustin and enjoy himself.

After a while Steve pulled himself out of the water when he heard the house phone ring and Eddie’s life changed forever. There, in the sun, glinting away, basically mocking him, was a silver barbell through Steve Harrington’s navel. Before he knew what was happening he’d followed Steve into the kitchen, watching as he answered the phone. Eddie had lost all control, brain to body movement filter completely destroyed. That was how he found himself on his knees infront of Steve’s belly, reaching out to stroke it when he stopped himself. Steve was outright staring down at him with a blush across his face (and what a visual that was) when Eddie realised what he was doing, stopping in his tracks ‘I uhhhh dropped my contact…bye’ (Eddie doesn’t have contacts. He doesn’t even wear glasses. Eddie knows this. Steve knows this). Anyway, eddie runs

Steve started planning a nipple piercing immediately if it meant Eddie would get this close again

[peppermintquartz]

Enid Sinclair likes people. It's the werewolf in her, she figured; as her literary hero said, a creature between a wolf and a human is a dog, and all werewolves are basically dogs. Some are more bitey than others, but everyone has to live their own truths, you know?

But some people are hard to like. Bianca, for instance. That air of superiority raises Enid's hackles every time they crossed paths. Enid supposes it's also because they're diametrically opposite when it comes to their species. Werewolves are about losing control, sirens are all about imposing it.

Most people think it's hard to like Wednesday. Enid thought so too at first, but over the term she's found it very easy to like her spooky gothy roomie. Wednesday has clear boundaries, expresses them precisely, and is always brutally open. (Emphasis on brutal, but no one's perfect.)

Sure, Wednesday can be so single-minded when she has a goal that she forgets that other people have feelings and that danger is indiscriminate. And she can be rude, dismissive, devoid of emotion, obsessed with gore and violence and murder, wields sarcasm like a knife and a knife like a knife, but she's not fake.

Enid knows fake. She can smell when people are lying to her. (Okay, 60% of the time she can do so. The other 40%, she's usually distracted by something.)

They still fight now and again. Enid likes cheery bubblegum pop and unicorn colors and pumpkin spice lattes with whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles on top and she loves what Wednesday calls "foolish frippery", and Wednesday refuses to admit that color is a necessary part of life and eats black liquorice and squid ink ice cream (topped with live baby squid) and reads books that are about a century out of date. They quarrel over the style and placement of a rug in the dorm, the bats Wednesday allowed into the room, the new fairy lights that Enid put in around their massive window.

But the quarrels are half-hearted and over quickly. They get two rugs and cut them in half, to have them placed down the middle. The bats are not allowed inside the room but they can hang around (ha! Enid enjoys a pun) under the rafters around the outside of their dorm, and the fairy lights are twined with a string of black crystals.

Enid may have lots of friends, but she's never had a best friend, let alone best friends like Wednesday Addams. And whatever they face in the future (and knowing Wednesday, they're going to be facing a lot), Enid Sinclair knows she is ready to wolf out for her spooky gothy roomie any time.

Because she knows, down to her claws and teeth and bones, Wednesday will face down any monster for Enid too.

[creator-of-calm-queer-chaos]

The plot demon got away from me. Big time. (Hiding for space)

They were sure Heaven didn’t know about them. After all, if they did, surely they would have done something by now. Crowley and Aziraphale have been careful, always watching out for spies, but it wasn’t enough.

Aziraphale gets called up to Heaven. He tells Crowley before he goes, of course. They decide to meet up for drinks at the bookshop in the evening. He has a bad feeling about this visit. Heaven is not flippant with their ‘random checkups.’ 

The moment Aziraphale steps into Heaven, he finds himself frozen in place. He can’t move his arms or his legs, but finds he has full control over his head, meaning he can look around. So look around he does. In the perimeters of his vision he can see three figures. They slowly move closer and in front of him. Aziraphale inhales sharply. Michael, Gabriel, and Uriel are walking towards him. 

“Well, hello there, Aziraphale. Fancy seeing you here,” Gabriel snarks. 

“Hello, Gabriel,” Aziraphale responds nervously. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“You see, we have received word from… downstairs that you have been in frequent contact with a certain demon,” Uriel says. “Is this true?” 

“Why on Earth, Heaven, or Hell would I be in contact with a demon ?” Aziraphale exclaimed. He tries to ignore the bead of sweat dripping down his neck. 

“Is that so?” she says. “Then these images are surely faked?”

With a wave of her hand, images project onto nothing - all of them photographs of Aziraphale and Crowley together. Aziraphale gasps in horror. They go back centuries , all taken from around a corner or behind a bush. In some, they are dining at a cafe, or feeding ducks, or eating ice cream. In one, they are walking together through Soho. 

“They… they must be faked with extraordinary skill. I have never seen this de-” 

His head whips to the side as Gabriel slaps him. 

“Don’t lie to your leaders’ face!” he screams. “We know you have been consorting with a demon! We know his name is Crowley, and we know you have been friends - lovers - for centuries!” 

Aziraphale gapes at him, still shocked that he slapped him. Then, slowly, his words were processed. Heaven knew about them. Heaven had known about them for decades if not longer. Crowley is in grave danger. He decided to ignore the word ‘lovers.’ 

“I… leave him alone. Please .” He started to panic. “ I- I’ll do whatever you what. I’ll never see him again, I’ll stay on the exact opposite side of the world - I’ll leave Earth! Just… please don’t hurt him .” Something had shifted within Aziraphale as he begs. He doesn’t care about what happens to him. He just wants Crowley to be safe. 

“Oh, I don’t think that will be possible,” Gabriel says, fake pouting. “You made your choice to be around a fallen angel. And now, both you and him must be punished.” 

Tears well up in Aziraphale’s eyes. He is not a stranger to what measures Heaven will go to in order to take their revenge. 

“ Please …” he begs, squeezing his eyes shut as tears slip down his cheeks. 

“Open your eyes, Aziraphale,” Michael commands, almost impatiently. He does. “Gabriel, do it now. I’m tired of waiting.” 

“Very well,” he sighs. 

Aziraphale worries his lip as Gabriel slowly starts glowing gold. Nothing good comes after that. His form shifts, and there is a thud. Gabriel’s vessel collapses to the ground. Gabriel is still standing there, but he is slightly see-through. 

“No,” Aziraphale whispers. “No, please, no. I told you - I’ll do anything, just not-” 

A searing pain rips through him as Gabriel’s soul steps into his vessel. He has been attached to his body for so long, and this process is never easy as it is. Aziraphale’s soul wiggles and tries to dispel the foreignness that is Gabriel vying for control. But, at the end of the day, Gabriel is much more powerful than he is. And within the minute, Gabriel has gained complete control over his vessel, and Aziraphale is stuck rattling around in his body like a ping pong ball. 

“Very well,” Gabriel says through Aziraphale’s mouth. “On to stage two.” 

Shit, shit, shit! Aziraphale curses, though no one but Gabriel can hear it. 

Profanity, child, really? Gabriel says inside their mind. Hush, you can’t do anything now.  

“Good luck,” Michael says. 

Gabriel nods and steps toward the globe. He zooms in on London, then to Soho, until they are looking at a very familiar bookshop from above. 

Just leave it alone, Aziraphale begs. Gabriel ignores him. He taps on the bookshop, and they are flying through a tunnel, squeezing through an impossibly small space, between the very atoms of existence, then- 

Gabriel is standing in the bookshop. He stretches his new body, getting accustomed to being shorter and fidgets with the vest. 

Really, Aziraphale, this style hasn’t been popular for at least two centuries. 

Leave my vest alone! I work hard to keep it in good condition. 

Gabriel sighs at the empty shop. He struts over to the wall calender that Aziraphale keeps meticulously updated. He wishes he didn’t just then, because there, on today’s date, is written drinks with C, 8 o’clock in blue pen. 

“Perfect timing. A few hours to perfect the use of this body before we meet the demon,” Gabriel mutters. 

Indeed, Gabriel would spend the time until Crowley arrives walking around the bookshop and talking aloud to a mirror. Aziraphale annoyed him the entire time, begging him to change his mind and trying to get him to walk differently. But Aziraphale was dismayed to realise that Gabriel was able to mimic his movements almost perfectly. He could only hope that Crowley would realise something as off anyway.

8 o’clock rolled around, and Crowley didn’t show. Aziraphale isn’t surprised, but Gabriel gets nervous. 

Where is your devil-damned demon? Gabriel demandes. 

Aziraphale doesn’t reply, as he hadn’t for the past half hour. 

“He’ll show up eventually,” Gabriel murmurs.

A few minutes later, the bookshop doors openes dramatically to reveal Crowley. He is dressed in his usual black attire, but was holding multiple take out boxes. 

“I brought food from that Chinese restaurant you’re fond of, come give me a hand, would you?” he says as a greeting. 

“Oh, of course,” Gabriel says. He rushes forward, perfectly mimicking Aziraphale’s nervous but eager steps. He takes the top three boxes from Crowley and walks to the back, setting them down on the coffee table. Crowley follows and does the same. 

“What did Heaven want?” Crowley says, sitting down on the couch with an omfh . He immediately opens the takeout containers and starts piling a plate that appeared from nowhere. “Too many frivolous materials or…” 

“Yeah, apparently making people lose the bread they were going to give to ducks counts as frivolous,” Gabriel says, sitting down on the opposite side of the couch. He clasps his hands together, sitting up straight. 

“Why so tense, angel?” Crowley says through a mouthful of food. “Aren’t you gonna eat?” 

“Oh, yes, of course,” Gabriel exclaims, leaning forward and getting some food. Aziraphale relaxes slightly as he gets exactly the wrong foods, but then winces as Gabriel drops some garlic sauce on his pants. He keeps quiet to not clue him in. “Ah, bugger,” Gabriel whispers, trying to wipe it away. Of course, this does nothing but smears it in. 

Crowley watches the angel(s) suspiciously. He frowns. 

“Okay, spit it out. Why are you acting so weird? Did Heaven really just want to give you a stern talking to? Or is there something you’re not telling me?” 

Gabriel stiffens. The demon wasn’t supposed to be able to tell so quickly. How much time had they actually spent together? Gabriel heaves a fake sigh, and leans back. 

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he says, fidgeting with his fingers. 

What are you doing, Gabriel? Aziraphale asks. 

He speaks!  

I mean it. What are you doing ? 

Watch and see.  

“Well?” Crowley asks. “What is it? Are you okay?” 

“The…” Gabriel pretends to gather his thoughts. “Well, there is something. Something I haven’t told you…” 

“Okay… go ahead. I’m listening.” As if to prove this, Crowley puts down his plate and turns to face him completely. “What is it?” 

Gabriel stands up, pacing in front of the couch. Crowley does the same, but instead leans against the wall. 

“Zira, you’re making me nervous.” 

Zira? Really?  

Gabriel pauses in front of Crowley, turned towards him. He takes a deep breath and speaks again. 

“I… I think… I think I love you,” Gabriel says. 

Aziraphale inhales (rather, his soul does). It was true, but this wasn’t how the confession was supposed to go. At all. They were supposed to have a romantic dinner and Aziraphale was supposed to take Crowley to feed the ducks (with peas) and then they would get ice cream and he would wipe a drip of ice cream off Crowley’s face and hold his hands and say those words that Gabriel just stole. 

“Oh, angel,” Crowley says, a soft smile spreading across his face. 

A blossom of hope spreads within Aziraphale. Could it be true? That Crowley loves him back? 

“I know. And I, you.” 

Gabriel smiles back, then slowly steps closer to Crowley. Crowley does the same. Aziraphale panics. Gabriel is about to steal Aziraphale and Crowley’s first kiss. And then he realises something much, much worse. In a pocket of reality, Gabriel is reaching to grab a sword. A certain flaming sword. 

No. No, no no nonononon! Aziraphale starts screaming inside his head. Gabriel ignores him as he and Crowley move closer and closer, until - 

Their lips meet. 

Crowley sighs happily, leaning into the kiss. So much - almost 6,000 years worth! - pining and wishing and hoping for them to get together, all wrapped up in one perfect kiss. Crowley reaches up and tangles his fingers through Aziraphale’s perfect curls. He is perfect. Every last cell, and his soul. Oh, his beautiful soul. It seems brighter today, almost glowing. All his awkward behaviour earlier makes perfect sense now. 

A warm, fuzzy feeling spreads through Crowley’s body, from his chest outward. It’s quite hot, but comfortable, like sinking into a bath. Crowley feels Aziraphale wrap an arm around him, and Crowley pulls him even closer. 

I wish this moment could last forever , Crowley thinks. 

Then, in the middle of the perfect kiss, Crowley notices that the hot feeling in his chest isn’t going away. Instead, it’s just getting hotter and hotter. It’s almost burning - no, it’s definitely burning now. Why is it burning? 

All of a sudden, a sharp, scathing pain rips through Crowley’s chest. He yanks back his head and gasps for air, but finds that he is struggling to breathe. Aziraphale is grinning - no, he’s snarling . Trembling, Crowley looks down. There is a sword sticking out of his chest. It’s crackling and glowing like its made of embers. Tears well in his eyes. It was all a lie. 

Aziraphale twists the handle of the sword and fire rips through Crowley. The scream that escapes him is pure and loud and terrifying.  It’s agony like nothing he’s ever felt, much much worse than falling from Heaven. And it was caused by the angel he loves. 

Crowley’s legs give out, but Aziraphale is holding him up by his arms. He looks up at the angel. Aziraphale is still smiling. He lets out a cold cackle, something Crowley would expect from a demon, but not an angel. Not from his angel. Crowley opens his mouth to ask him why, but no words come out. He can only open and close his mouth like a fish. Still grinning like a demon, Aziraphale slams his knee into Crowley's gut violently. He screams again as the flaming sword is yanked again. He lets out a sob as the pain recedes, but only slightly. He looks up at Aziraphale again, tears streaming down his cheeks. What has happened?

Then, something shifts. Aziraphale starts to glow, and his grip on Crowley’s arms goes slack. With a groan, Crowley slides to the floor and collapses in a heap. He looks up and watches as Aziraphale’s edges get less and less defined, as if he’s discorporating. Then, the hazy form becomes more clearly defined, and everything makes sense. Gabriel’s soul is hovering beside Aziraphale’s vessel. With a small shake, Aziraphale’s vessel seems to become inhabited again. 

With a pained gasp, everything came into stark clarity. Gabriel had possessed Aziraphale’s body and tricked him to get close to him. Gabriel had stabbed him. 

It had been Gabriel who said "I love you." Aziraphale doesn’t love him. It was all a lie. 

Gabriel’s soul disappears, and Aziraphale stands above Crowley. 

“‘Zira-fell?” Crowley gasps out, weakly trying to staunch the bleeding. It was a miracle he hadn’t died the moment he came into contact with the sword. Probably a demonic one. 

Aziraphale seems to snap back to reality as he drops to his knees beside Crowley. He tosses the sword to the ground and gently pulls Crowley onto his lap. 

“Oh, my dear, what have I done ?” Aziraphale sobs out, clutching Crowley. 

“Wasn’t… wasn’t you,” he murmurs. At least it wasn’t Aziraphale who will have killed him. Even if Aziraphale doesn’t love him. 

“I… I felt the blade. I held it- oh, Crowley , my darling…” a holy tear drips onto the wound, causing Crowley to let out a yelp. “Oh, sorry, I’m so sorry-” 

“Tell me something,” Crowley interrupts. His vision is darkening around the edges, and he can feel his grip on the universe fading. But he needs to know. “You heard me. You know what I feel. Tell me the truth. Don’t -” he gasps as a wave of pain rips through him. “Don’t sugar coat it. Tell me.” 

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale exhales. “I love you more than the universe itself. I love you more than tea and books and cinnamon. I love you more than all my records and all the ducks and all the goodness of humanity. I… I love you more than God.” 

“Careful, angel,” Crowley wheezes. “You could fall for that.” 

“I don’t care,” Aziraphale sobs, holding Crowley a little tighter. “I don’t care anymore. Just… please be okay .” 

“‘M afr’d tha’s not up to me,” he sighs. “But I’m glad… to be here… with you-” he exhales and inhales heavily “- at the end.” 

Aziraphale leans down another inch. Their faces were so close, noses almost touching. With one of his final ounces of strength, Crowley reaches up an arm and places his hand in Aziraphale’s hair. This time, when he tangles his fingers in Aziraphale’s curls, he leaves blood in his white curls. He pulls Aziraphale’s head just an inch or two closer, and their lips meet. 

This time, when they kiss, it’s like fireworks. He can hear his heartbeat in his ears and can’t feel his legs, but Aziraphale is here , and everything is okay. The warm feeling comes back, but this time, it’s not painful. It’s warm like hot Irish cream and fireplaces and mint tea and the wool blanket Aziraphale made in 1632. He sees the beautiful stars they would watch from the countryside, sitting on the Bently’s hood, comfortable in their silence. He hears the mockingbird song Aziraphale loves to listen for in their walks through the woods. He feels the soft curls and delicate fabric that Aziraphale has maintained for hundreds of years. He is at home in his lover’s arms. 

When Aziraphale pulls away, Crowley blinks at him slowly. Crowley is smiling softly, happy and content. Aziraphale smiles back, but he is crying again. 

“Hinc itur ad astra,” Crowley whispers. 

“No,” Aziraphale chokes out. “Please, stay here. Don’t - don’t leave me. Please .” 

“I never will,” he says. “Never.”  

But still, Crowley’s eyes slide shut for the last time. A soft sigh escapes his body and a grey light rises from his chest. Aziraphale sobs aloud, still holding Crowley’s body. He watches the sphere of light rise up slowly. He can see it pass through the floor and through the ceiling and past the birds and into the clouds. Aziraphale watches as Crowley’s soul takes its place among the stars he so loved. 

“Sic itur ad astra, meus amor.”

It's perfectly simple. Aim for my mouth, but shoot past my ear.

[betbeton]

✃ Middle of June

Tendou Satori × Reader

Warnings - Light Angst, Oblivious idiots in love

· Fem Reader ·

· Not Beta'd ·

· A/N - tendou my beloved ·

· Part 2 ·

・❥・ Masterlist

Legs kicking idly in the air as the gelato in your hand melted slowly dribbling down your hand coating the friendship bracelet that looped around your wrist in a sickly sweet cream. Lurching forward the cold sweet in your hand almost fell onto the ground below you. Eyebrows knitting in annoyance that was quickly squashed by the stranger that had planted their hands upon your back speaking in an all too familiar sing-song voice.

"Hey hey, you went and got ice cream without me!"

The hands retracted from your back as the lanky figure circled around the small open porch and plopped down beside you. A large hand reaching to pluck the cone from between your fingers, a matching bracelet glinting in the afternoon sun as Tendou brought the treat to his own lips tongue darting out to taste it.

"Yeah yeah yeah, gonna cry about it?"

A sly grin settled on your face as you flopped onto your back head smacking against the bottom of the sliding door frame that sat behind you two. A snicker sounding from the red head next to you as a few expletives spilled out from your lips at the slight twinge of pain. Your eyes lazily wandered over to the man next to you fond memories pricked at the back of your mind the serene atmosphere shattered as a bittersweet feeling squeezed at your heart. Hand reaching out your eyes almost glaring at the bracelet that had been settled upon it for so many years, a silent reminder of the unbreakable bond between two childhood friends. Fingers grabbing at the cloth of his shirt your voice croaked out from between your lips.

"I'm gonna miss you."

His head whipped around to fix a wide eyed gaze your way lips dotted with melted cream, his own hand reached out matching bracelet catching the sun yet again as he placed his hand over your face with a soft chuckle.

"We still have all summer to get into trouble so don't think about that right now, okay?"

His tone was light hearted, but deep down he knew it wasn't that easy to ignore. After all you two had recently graduated and had your very last meal with all your shared friends before everyone went their separate ways, that was the night he told you about his intentions to leave the country. You had shrugged it off with a wide grin wishing him luck and jokingly asked him not to get a cute partner before you had a chance to visit. As soon as you had laughed it would have shattered his heart right then and there if it hadn't been for the tears turning your eyes glossy as they crinkled with your fake smile.

Fingers releasing his shirt you grabbed his hand off your face with both hands before moving around to link the little heart magnets on your bracelets together. Eyes locking on the little charms two broken halves turned whole, a similar way you viewed you chaotic friendship. Maybe it was the face he was making at you or the fact you would never get the opportunity to confess once he moved, but you agreed with a wobbly tone and an even more unstable smile.

"Fine, lets go be menaces to society."

And like that your fate was seemingly sealed.

[wonderful-writes]

Presume (Part 2)

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1k (1,053)

Author’s Note: I originally intended for “Presume” to be a single oneshot based on an idea that a friend gave me (shoutout to @bellaswansrealgf). But the wonderful reader @bluehydrangea-cherry very nicely asked for a second part, so here it is! I hope you all enjoy it!

Part 1

Tom Riddle hated many things in life. Loud noises, people who chewed with their mouth open, melted ice cream, puppies. But above all else, he hated being wrong.

But that’s exactly where he found himself when it came to you.

No matter how well he thought he could read you, he could never hit the mark. Ever since his assumptions about your intelligence were proven to be far from the truth, you’d assume he would stop judging people without knowing them. He continued to guess, however, and came up empty-handed every time.

He couldn’t help himself, really. It was easy to make predictions of what you were like.

He imagined you to be the haughty sort, the kind of girl to brush off anyone who was of lesser intellect. He was surprised to find that you were instead very humble, refusing to acknowledge your smarts unless absolutely necessary.

He also pictured you to be someone who tailed around boys like a lost dog. He was equally confounded to learn that, although you had many admirers, you had no interest in any of them.

He imagined you to enjoy sweetened tea, only to discover that you took yours plain.

He assumed you preferred to sleep in, but then he saw you outside on an early morning walk.

Being proven wrong repeatedly didn’t deter him from being fascinated by you. If anything, he was even more determined to know everything about you. He never paid much attention to you before, but now he couldn’t help watching your every move from afar.

He wanted to know what your favorite food was, what you liked to do in your spare time, how many pairs of pristine white socks you owned, how you managed to look so good without even trying.

But he couldn’t bring himself to do the obvious thing, to actually talk to you.

That would be preposterous. The Tom Riddle talking to a girl? And a beautiful one, nonetheless. Utter insanity.

So he resorted to studying you. Eyeing you as you sat down in class to know where your preferred seating was, paying attention to how long it took you to finish an essay, closely monitoring how many sips you took of your apple juice at dinner before you deemed it too sweet for your liking. He wanted to know you like he knew himself.

If it was under any other circumstance, he would have found his own behavior appalling. Ridiculous, even. Who were you to have him so enraptured to the point of complete foolery? Why were you so special? And how could you make him feel so utterly whipped with just your existence?

~

He was finally put out of his agony on one balmy morning. You were reading under a tree by the Great Lake, so immersed into your book that you didn’t notice the tall boy taking a stroll not far away.

When you finally lifted your eyes from the pages, you saw that the boy was none other than Tom. The very same full-of-himself wizard that caught your attention some time ago.

“Tom!” you called from your shady spot. You sent him a wave, amused at his startled expression.

He made his way over to you and asked, “Did you need something?”

He didn’t tell you how his heart was racing and his mind was reeling at your simple utterance of his name. The effect you had on him was much more all-consuming than he cared to admit.

You smiled up at him, scooting over to allow him room to sit. “Not really. Just thought you’d like to keep me company. It’s Saturday, so I didn’t think you’d have anywhere of importance to head off to.”

He awkwardly stood there, towering over you. He didn’t dare accept your offer to sit, too afraid that it would turn out to be a cruel joke. Despite his indifferent persona, he didn’t know if he could take it if girl he was so enamored with admitted to wanting nothing to do with him.

“Well?” you prodded. “Hello?”

“Why?” he simply asked.

“Well, you’ve been spying on me for the past few weeks, maybe months, even,” you answered with a smirk. “I assumed you’d want to actually talk to me.”

“You shouldn’t assume,” he replied, not relinquishing his hold on his nonchalant facade. “Not everyone is falling over themselves to have a conversation with you.”

You feigned hurt. “How could you say that? And here I was, trying to be nice and to get to know you.”

Tom was taken aback. Were you teasing him? Did you actually want to talk to him as much as he yearned to spend time with you?

Realizing too late that he could have come off as cold and uninterested, he quickly added, “I only say that because assuming never does me any good.”

You smirked at him. “I know you’re only second best in our year, Riddle, but I thought you would’ve been a little more observant. You can trust me, you know.”

He scoffed at that. “Who says I don’t? I’m not afraid of you. And I’m not second best.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “If you’re not afraid, actually come down and sit.”

“What do you want from me?” Tom longed for nothing more than for your words to be true. He was far too invested in you for any games or tricks. But he was too proud to let you know that.

“For some reason, you took a liking to me,” you stated plainly. “But you aren’t doing anything about it. So, here I am, throwing you a bone and asking to get to know you. Is it truly so hard for your half-sized brain to comprehend?”

He couldn’t stop the upward quirk of his lips as you said that. Even when you were poking fun of his abilities, he found you to be incredibly endearing. He decided to take a chance.

“I suppose I could spare a few minutes,” he said with fake boredom as he finally sat down beside you. He was attempting with all his might to remove any trace of eagerness from his voice. “You might not be terrible company.”

You hit him lightly on the arm. “Riddle, I am wonderful company.

And in time, he learned that to be true.

[tastyykpop]

𝑆𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝐶𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑢𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

•pairings: enemy, barista and student!jaemin x student and barista!reader

♡𝑠𝑚𝑢𝑡♡

<next>

•warnings: dom!jaemin, brat!reader, brat taming, crying kink, hair pulling, choking, small praising, small size kink, degradation (slut, whore), dumbification (sexual and non sexual use) nanas kinda mean :( but gets a lil nicer :), jaemin refers to himself as nana a lot mostly when they do the dirty, bulging kink, pet names (princess, baby, baby girl, little girl, pretty girl), unprotected sex (please be safe), slight face slapping (he slaps her once), rough sex clearly, some sexual tension, I hope i got everything

You were fuming!

The boy in front of you not even batting an eyelash, just laughing at the mess dripping down your face.

You smelt like an iced americano.

People around you held their hands to their mouths in shock and others tried to hold back their laughter. Some even pointed at you or gave sympathetic looks.

It wasnt like people were surprised anymore. Jaemin always had something up his sleeve for you. But he never went as far as pouring his coffee on you.

"Aw poor baby. Do you need a napkin?" He faked sympathy with a pout and his friends began laughing. You just got up and walk by them, making sure to bump into jaemins shoulder on your way through.

It was almost everyday that Jaemin would do something so uncalled for. It was like he was made to push your buttons. Even as you're walking out of the college building, you can still hear the boy laughing at you. Or maybe it was the other students. Either way, you wanted to kill him.

As you trudged towards your car, a sense of relief washed over you. A great happiness that only comes when you finished your classes and could go home. Only this happiness stayed for a good 2 hours until you have to go to your part time job at the cafe with your favorite person of course. But its not like you can quit. You need the money so you can live and get the education you need, no matter how hard it is being with him.

It was then when you sat in your car and the squishing in the seat made your face curl into a scowl, only made you think of ways to get away with murder. It was gross really. The seats were sticky, plus your hair and clothes were sticking to you like lip gloss. A shower would be perfect right about now.

"Hi y- oh..." Your roommate, jimin, stared at your messy state. Giving you a good up and down before shrugging his shoulders, "jaemin?"

You sighed, walking over to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, "Who else? Its always him."

Jimin gave you a small smile and came closer as if ready to hug you but didn't because he didn't want to get sticky. "You know, maybe you should quit that job."

"No."

He groaned and snatched the water that you were about to sip, "Why? You'd only see jaemin in school. And you wouldnt have to stick with his bickering in work." He huffed, shaking his head, "Girls are so difficult sometimes."

You tried leaping up to grab the bottle from jimin, but all he did was hold it above his head. You stomped on his foot in return. Jimin huddled over and you snatched the bottle, smirking with victory as you put it to your lips.

"You fucking snake." Jimin hissed in pain.

A laugh fell from your lips as you walked by him, completely ignoring his words and his pain, "Im gonna take a shower."

Once you got to your room, the first thing you did was grab your work clothes, a towel, and underwear and got ready for the warm shower.

After you switched on the water and let it heat up, you stepped in and immediately felt at peace as the water cascaded over your body, cleaning off the almost dried coffee. Your hair felt lighter, like a feather and your fingers could now slip through the strands easily without an issue. The scent of your body wash overpowered the coffee smell and you felt much better. Water, soap, and coffee were beginning to fill the drain as you finished washing up. You rolled your eyes at the sight of the murky water. What a bastard.

For once you were actually happy to wear your work clothes after what had happened earlier. The clothes actually felt comfortable and jimin was becoming more and more confused as to why you were hugging yourself with a huge smile on the couch.

"No one should be that happy after a shower." He started flipping through channels on the t.v.

"Dont tell me how to feel, I dont smell like jaemins coffee anymore." You gushed overdramtically. Jimin could only role his eyes.

"Please...you act like he's a demon of some sort."

You squinted your eyes at jimin and flared your nostrils, "he is. Hes a nasty, dumb, annoying, self centered-"

"Okay okay I get it! You hate jaemin! The funny thing is you can never get his name out of your mouth." Everything stopped and your head snapped in jimins directions.

"What are you saying?" A frown found itself on your face, jimin leaned closer.

"Im saying that maybe you might like him."

You shrieked in disgust, blocking your ears with your hands. Jimin laughed at your reaction. Almost falling off the couch in the process. "Ew! Gross! Why would you even think that!"

"Like I said, you can never get his name out of your mouth. I think its pretty obvious you like him." He was still giggling at you except your face was anything but happy, more grossed out at how he thought you could like such a person

"I can't stand you. I'm leaving for work." You stood up and jimin did nothing to stop you from going. Even though you still had about 15 minutes until you normally leave. "Ill be back at 9." The door slammed behind you, leaving jimin alone with another laughing fit.

You got in the car and drove off to your work, still trying to come up with a reason as to why jimin is saying all this. Sure maybe you talk about jaemin a little lot but that doesn't mean you like him. Its very much the opposite and jimin should know that. It only frustrates you the more you think about it. Liking someone like jaemin? Please. That would be your nightmare.

As you pulled up to the cafe, there were only a few other cars parked. Few were from other workers but the majority were most like customers or people just trying to get a free parking space. Lucky for you, there were many open spaces, unlike when you come later and they're filled. Maybe leaving earlier wasnt such a bad idea. It saved you the 3 minute walk.

"Y/n! You're just on time!" One of your coworkers, irene, called out as you stepped inside the shop. "We need help back here!" You had no time to even begin to say your shift hasn't started yet when irene took you by the hand and dragged you to where the coffee was being made. "We have a bunch of online orders coming in so can you please help us with the coffee and food?" She tossed you a brown apron for you to put on and you nodded, trying to get your brain to speed up with everything in the world.

It was so quiet when you walked in that you never even realized that the back was busy. Coffee cups were filled and put into trays for orders, food was being heated or baked. It was a chaotic place right now and all you could do was help. So as fast as you could, you began with the first order on the screen. A large mocha with extra extra sugar, whipped cream, and chocolate curls. Easy enough you thought as you reached for a cup but a hand beat you to it.

Your eyes looked up at the person in front of you and just when you thought everything was going fine, it wasn't, "What are you doing here so early?" You asked bitterly.

"I always come in early. What are you doing here so early?" Jaemin asked whilst holding a death grip on the cup.

"Just felt like coming early." You muttered, watching as jaemin turned away with a scoff, quickly cutting the conversation short. "Bastard."

Jaemin was busy making what you were originally going to do, so you looked for another order to get ready. It was just two cake pops and a small strawberry banana smoothie. Something you've been craving recently from the lack of sweetness and fruit in your day to day life.

The cake pops and smoothie were quick to make and were soon sent off to the customer. You happily beamed and wished them good day once they left.

After then there was a familiar face with a friend right next to him, he was quite handsome you must say. He was indeed so handsome that he just looked unreal. "Hey jimin. Whose this?" You nodded towards the bright black haired man.

"This is taemin! He wanted some coffee so I brought him- hey stop staring at him!" Jimin snapped you out of your trance and taemin chuckled.

"Its okay shes cute." He eye smiled, showing off his perfectly white teeth. He's definitely not real.

Jimin tsk'd, "Until you get to know her."

"Yeah yeah... whatever." You smiled at him, completely oblivious to what he just said.

They both ordered and took a seat next to the window. You were still staring at taemin with your head in your hand until someone tapped your shoulder, "Who are they?" Jaemins voice rang in your ears, making you stand up straight.

"Thats my roommate, jimin, and his friend taemin." You glanced back at the boys, mainly at taemin and just stared like he was your first crush.

"Quit staring your gonna scare him away." Jaemin said earning himself a chuckle from you.

You stuck your tongue out, "He called me cute."

The boy smirked from ear to ear and leaned in close to your face, "He was lying." You grumbled and pushed him away from you, getting annoyed by his presence very quickly.

"Jaemin and y/n, get back to work we have orders to do!" Irene called out. Both of you quickly returning to your stations and getting things ready.

"Look at him. Hes basically waiting for me to come over to him." Seulgi, another person in this school you dispise, said as she looked at jaemin in the back of the room. She wasn't very quiet either considering you were only a few seats away from him. So it only meant that jaemin could hear her, but chose to ignore it. Typical boy.

"Honestly. He looks so good today too." Sana, her best friend, commented.

"Oh and did you hear what he was planning on doing today to y/n? Apparently he's gonna-"

"Class get back in your seats, we have much to discuss." The professor stood in the front of the class. Everyone shifted and moved to their appropriate places and waited for the teacher to begin. Unlike you, who was wondering what seulgi was going to say next. If its something worse than coffee being poured on your head, you may just have to bury yourself six feet under after this.

As you were taking notes something flung towards your head and hit you on the side, looking over was jaemin with a smirk was he held his fingers in a sling shot shape. A rubber band was laying on your lap. Then another one. One even hit your cheek creating a small smack sound as you winced in pain. Oh you desperately wanted to get out of this seat and punch the boy in the face.

"Excuse me sir!" You called out, raising your head. The whole class looked at you and your cheeks began to heat up. "May i go to the restroom?" The professor nodded and you headed out. Not until you stopped in your tracks from a loud smack to your butt, causing the whole class to turn around again.

Jaemin was enjoying this, the way you stared at him with wide eyes and open mouth, made him just want to do it again. He never thought this reaction from you would be so entertaining and he tried his best not show it, with only a small smirk covering his face.

You rushed out of the room, faster than ever and leaned against the nearest surface you could find. Not only were you questioning reality, but also why jaemin just did that.

"That little bitch." You said to yourself as you paced back and forth in the hallway, staring at the ground.

"Excuse me?" Jaemin voice rang in your ears as you looked up with a angry red face. Steam was even coming out of your ears and nose. "Did you just call nana a bitch?" He put his hands to his chest and pouted, "Little girl you need to learn some manners." Jaemin tilted his head to the side and began walking forward.

"Shut up." You had nothing else to say as you grit your teeth, looking at the ground.

Jaemin didnt like that and grabbed the back of your neck to make you look at him, "What? Did your stupid head stop thinking? Your normally so chatty for nana what happened?"

"Jaemin i-" you cut yourself off as you felt jaemin grip the back of your neck tighter causing you to moan in pain.

"Stupid girl." Jaemin whispered, forcefully pushing you away. It was not strong enough to make you fall but at least stumble.

You glowered, earning yourself a chuckle from him. "What will it take for you to leave me alone!?"

"Bring this to table 15 please! Thanks!" Irene smiled as she handed you a small cup of iced coffee and you took it, taking it to its designated place. What you didn't except was to see taemin again, gleaming up at you.

"Hi y/n." He smiled and you tried to remain calm.

God how is someone so beautiful?

"Hey, I didnt except you to come back." You returned the warm smile and started to play with the apron around your waist.

Taemin giggled, "I actually quite like this place, its cozy." He began to take a sip from the straw, eyes still trained on you. If only you weren't so awkward with him, you wouldve found something to say other than staring at him and indulging in the beauty before you. But lucky for you someone behind the counter called for you, quickly averting your attention back to work.

The next order was a shake, so you grabbed the correct ingredients and began using the blendor, when someone came next to you, doing the same thing "You seem like your having fun flirting around." The unwanted conversation with jaemin began, "makes nana kind of jealous."

"Hm funny." You ignored him and continued blending the ice cream.

Jaemin casually rolled his eyes and glanced down at your nonchalant face before returning back to the blender, "you know you really do piss me off."

You sneered and snickered to yourself, "what are you gonna do about it?"

"I was thinking of fucking you dumb or until you know your place but maybe thats a bit too rewarding."

The cup was removed and set aside from the blender with your hands placed on your hips, "Im sorry what?"

"Did I stutter?" Jaemin raised an eyebrow and also put the cup down. You went silent, not knowing whether or not to just laugh it off or quickly run away. "And I'm still waiting on my apology."

"One, I am not going to apologize to your bitchy ass. Two, even if I did let you, you could never 'fuck me dumb', it just wouldn't happen. Now stop trying to get in my pants."

Jaemin opened then closed his mouth about to say something, but didn't and just put on a sweet smile, "Go take these to table 7 for nana." He said like he was testing yoj.

"Why? You made them."

"Nana told you to do something little girl, now do it." Jaemins sweet smile was still plastered on his face yet it intimidated you enough to do as he said.

Taemin was long gone when you walked out and you were kind of sad as you weren't able to say goodbye before he left. You placed the shake down on the table and was ready to walk away when you heard your name being called.

"Y/n? You work here?" Seulgis voice spoke as you turned around. Both her and sana were looking at you with shit eating grins.

"Doesn't jaemin also work here seulgi?" Sana asked the girl in front of her and seulgi looked as if she got the brightest idea.

"Oh yeah! Y/n can you get jaemin over here? Pretty please?" She asked sweetly yet with a hint of sourness and you listened, not feeling like ignoring her at the moment.

You told jaemin that seulgi and sana were out front looking for him and he nonchalantly went out without question. Leaving you to do some of the work alone, which you didn't mind considering its jaemin, the annoying bastard who won't leave you alone, but he does help you whenever you need it. And right now, it was a bit busy, and you needed it.

After doing 4 more online orders and sending them off through the driveway, jaemin finally came back with a scowl on his face looking ready to beat someone up. "What the hell is wrong with you!?" He raised his voice only loud enough for you to hear. But you were quite confused on what was happening.

"What are you talking about?" You asked, tilting your head to the side like a puppy.

Jaemin groaned, "I knew you were fucking dumb but come on y/n! Why is seulgi covered in the shake i gave you?"

You paused for a moment, unable to answer that. Is he assuming you spilt her shake on her? Why would you even do that in the first place. Yeah you don't like her, but you're not going to stoop to her or his level. "I dont know."

He slammed his hand on the wall near your head, startling you a bit, "You dont know huh?" You shook your head slowly. "Seulgi and sana both said you purposefully spilt the shake on seulgi. Now answer me honestly. Is that true?" You shook your head again, feeling really small and helpless under his strong gaze.

"I-i didnt spill t-the skake." You muttered quietly.

He inhaled sharply, "Then who did huh? Or maybe you don't know because you're so dumb."

"S-stop..." you frowned, looking down at floor, but jaemin had other plans and made you look up at him. A single tear slide down your cheek and you swear you saw a small grin appear on his face.

"Tell nana what happened." His voice became softer as he swiped away the stray tear on your face.

You huffed, still afraid that he'd do something to you although you knew he wouldnt purposely cause you pain. "W-well she asked me to go get you, which I did, a-and her shake was perfectly fine when I left."

"Are you saying she purposely spilt the shake on herself to make me angry at you?"

"Y-yes."

"Ill believe my little girl for now, but if I find out you are lying, you will be in big trouble got that?" Jaemin lifted his hand off the wall and proceeded to walk back out of the room. Leaving you shocked at his words and still frightened by an angry jaemin.

You went to the cash register once jaemin left to get ready to count the bills until you heard jaemin and seulgi arguing. Lucky for them, no one but you and him were working right now. Irene went home earlier and the normal crew always leave around 6:30, leaving just you and jaemin.

"It was only a prank nana. No need to get so worked up. And besides you didn't even prank her today, be glad I did for you." Seulgi said smiling at the boy in front of her.

Jaemin physically cringed when he heard his nickname roll off her tongue, "you didn't have to do that."

You stood there watching, astonished how jaemin was standing up for you. Hes supposed to hate you. Jaemin didn't even bother going with the girls when they offered him a ride, instead he stayed with you and even helped close. Something he normally doesn't do because he leaves before you and gives you all the hard things to do.

"Hurry up and finish." Jaemin spoke. A little bit of anger still laced in his voice.

"Whats your rush?"

He sighed, "I wanna go home. Plus I can't stand this place right now. I'm pissed."

You finished wiping down that last table and walked over to him, "Just go home then."

"Not without you."

You gave him a dirty look, "im not going home with you."

Jaemin leaned down, his face only inches from yours and whispered, "Remember what I said earlier hm? I wanna fuck you dumb." He then grabbed your waist bringing you closer to him, if that was possible, "Can I do that pretty girl? Can nana fuck you so hard you won't even remember anything but my cock?" You were so lost in your mind that everything became a blur. Jaemins words sounded so sweet but were so lewd. And you were so close to kissing him until he put his finger on your lips, "But you have to wait." You frowned and were only getting more angry by the second. You went from not wanting anything to do with jaemin to just about ready to beg him to kiss you. Was it that easy for him to get in your head? Or were you so sex deprived that now jaemin seemed somewhat interesting?

You laid on jaemins bed getting bored with the constant teasing. He never did anything but that. Jaemin would get close to your lips and back away as you chased him. Hed chuckle and coo at you for being so desperate. But that wasn't the point of all the teasing. He really just wanted you to beg him to kiss you. No words will come out of his mouth telling you to beg, he just excepted it to happen sooner or later. But youre too stubborn to do so, so you grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down to kiss him, catching him by surprise.

Jaemins hands gripped your wrists and pulled them off his face, pinning them to the bed, "You didnt even ask to kiss me." Jaemin pulled away, raising his eyebrow high, "Dont you think thats a bit mean."

"So was teasing me, but I let you continue." You huffed, trying to free your wrists from his death grip but it was no use.

"You dont have a say on whether i continue or not. I'm in charge here and you take what I give you, understand?" You rolled your eyes. It was your intention to make jaemin angry. You wanted to push his buttons.

What you didnt know was that not answering jaemin correctly would earn you a slap to the face. And jaemin was not even fazed by it.

"Dont roll your eyes and answer nana." Jaemin smiled. "Can you say 'yes nana'?"

"Y-yes nana."

"Good girl." Jaemin muttered and began slowly kissing your jawline down to your neck, sucking here and there creating shades of purple and red marks. Oh how he loved the marks he was leaving.

You so desperately wanted to grip onto jaemins hair and pull it but he never budged his hands, only tightening his grasps. As he continued attacking your neck, you began to lift your hips up to get some sort friction. Jaemin noticed and shifted so that his thigh was in between your legs and rubbing against your clothed core. A spew of quiet moans left your lips but you wanted more. Jaemin was going to soft and slow for your liking.

"I thought you were going to fuck me dumb?" You said and jaemin lifted his head to give you a quick kiss on the lips.

"Patience baby. You aren't ready yet." He let go of your wrists and took your shirt off. The cold air made you shiver and jaemin chuckled. "I wanna make you cum at least 2 times before I fuck you."

"Then stop talking and do it." You replied, pushing your hips up to rub against his thigh, but they were pushed back down on the bed.

"Didnt I say to take what I give you?" Your head slowly moved up and down and jaemin smiled, "so why arent you happy with what nana gives you?"

"I want more..." you sighed as he started to slide your pants and panties off, discarding them somewhere in the room. His mouth slowly started kissing your inner thighs and you could feel your heat dripping with anticipation. You whined for more but only got a slap to the thigh telling you to be quiet. Needless to say you didn't listen and continued to try to get him closer to where you needed him most but pulling his hair.

Jaemin groaned grabbing your wrist again and pushed it away roughly. His patience was wearing out. You were more stubborn than he thought, but that doesn't mean he can't still break you. "Next time you do that, I'll flip you over and beat your ass till its purple." Your breath hitched and as much as you were tempted, you wanted to be able to sit for a few days so you stayed put and kept your hands to yourself.

But the desperation was getting to you and you wanted relief which jaemin wasnt giving you until you felt his two fingers circling around your clit. "P-please jaemin." You moaned as he flicked your clit with his middle finger. Then soon enough he stuck two fingers inside you. Your pussy automatically clenching around his digits as he moved at a steady in and out pace.

It felt so good. His fingers felt so good. They made your body twist in pleasure as more moans left your mouth. Jaemin was watching your face closely as it contorted with pleasure. He loved seeing your eyebrows bunched together, so focused on the way his fingers worked inside you.

"My pretty slut. Taking nanas fingers so well." He gushed, still watching your face. Jaemin could feel himself get even more painfully hard but he didn't want to fuck you just yet. He meant it when he said he wanted you to cum 2 times. So he picked up the speed with his fingers, your hands landing on his forearm that was resting on near your hip. "Are you gonna cum for nana princess?"

You frantically nodded your head as a wave of pleasure washed over you. You could feel your cum leak out of you as jaemin leaned down and began eating away at your cunt.

"J-jaemin! So...go-good!" Your head flew back as his tongue sucked on your clit and a loud moan filled the room.

Jaemin smirked against your heat, "I haven't even fucked you yet and your already sounding like a dumb whore. Its so easy to break you princess."

"N-no its j-ju-...." you whimpered as your brain wasnt even trying to help you function right. His tongue was extraordinary. "Mmmm."

"Aw my dumb little princess is so cute." He muttered diving back into lapping at your soaked cunt. It was almost as if on cue and without warning, you were cumming again. Jaemins hasty tongue took it all. Groaning at the taste of you in his mouth.

He sat up over you, grabbing your neck, pulling you into a deep kiss. You tasted yourself on his tongue. Deepening the kiss by grabbing the back of his hair, jaemin couldnt help but moan a bit as his cock brushed against your thigh. He felt big. Bigger than the few guys you've been with and you were ecstatic.

You tugged on jaemins pants and shirt as a way to tell him to take them off and he did after getting off of you and sitting on the edge of the bed. His abs were more defined than you thought and when his cock sprung free, your mouth started watering. Jaemins smirk only grew watching you stare. He was starting to get cocky

"What? You wanna suck my cock?" Jaemin asked sweetly.

"Yes please." You reached over to try and touch him but he didn't allow you. And smacked your hand away. It was a way for him to tease you and you hated it.

"So kind for nana now. Ealier you were so cock hungry that you decided to be a brat. Did nana finally break you?" Jaemin whispered as he moved a piece of hair out of your face, looking at you with fill admiration.

"No you didn't break me. But I wanna suck you off." You whined as jaemin picked you up and sat you just above his cock, the tip teasing at your entrance.

"Too bad. Now I want you to sit." Jaemin said looking into your eyes. You obeyed with a little hesitation. His cock was surely going to hurt you so you took it slowly and started lowering your hips. "Fuck...thats a good girl." Jaemin praised, watching his cock dissappear between your legs and your tummy get full with his cock. "My baby's so tiny you can see my cock in your belly." He said, pushing down on the area where he was imprinted in you.

Slowly you started moving, lifting your hips up and down. You were wet enough that he could easily slide in and out with no problem.

Jaemins head fell back as he sighed with relief, grunting as you picked up the pace, "So tight for nana." He whispered and you moaned back loudly. His cock stretched every inch of you to the point where it felt like you'd split.

"More more more." You whined against jaemins neck, gripping his shoulders tightly. Carefully jaemin flipped you both over so he was on top and continued pounding into your destroyed cunt. He kept a hand around your neck squeezing it every so often as a choked out moan left your throat.

His cock was so deep and fast that you couldn't think straight. You kept blabbering about his cock. Only thing on your mind was how nice he felt inside you. Jaemin bit his lip as he smirked at you, grabbing your hair and bringing your face close to his, "Now will you admit that I fucked you dumb and say your nanas dumb slut?"

"Y-yes, I'm na-nanas dumb sl-slut." You cried, tears falling down your face from how good he felt inside and if you thought jaemin couldn't go any faster, he did. His thrusts were hard and rough, sure enough to hurt your thighs tomorrow as he pounded relentlessly. "So close." Your voice came out choked as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You held on to jaemins hand that was on your neck as he helped you with your orgasm.

Jaemin wasnt far behind you with his and groaned loudly, "fuck, where do you want it princess?"

"I-inside." You moaned as the feeling of hot cum was shot inside you. Jaemins hips kept moving him through his orgasm until he slowly came to a stop. Both of you panted loudly, there were even a few tears falling down your cheek here and there.

Jaemin slowly pulled out, making sure not to hurt you, and he laid beside you. "You did so well." He kissed your forehead. "Cmon ill carry you to bathroom so we can take a bath." He said picking up your worn out naked figure with so much care. Making you forget he was your enemy.

[arcadejohn127-9]

Okay, so I'm really skinny. Underweight tbh. And I'm kinda insecure about that, because I'm literary bones and skin.

Could I request Brothers dealing with some lesser demons who were laughing at MC because how small, skinny and "easy to break" they are?

All body types are valid and wonderful; just like some people can't control how much weight they put on, others can't control how much weight they can't gain. It's not always simple with body types - just look after yourself regardless of your size. Eat your 3 main meals, have small snacks or mini meals every 2-3 hours that are more healthy or if you have healthy main meals let your mini meals/snacks be unhealthy

Though too much of anything can be unhealthy so is there really a different between the types?

Also please everyone drink plenty of water even if you have to give it some flavour for it be more enjoyable!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"are you sure you're a human? You look more like a reaper to me."

Three demons surrounded you, leaning on the table as you tried to ignore them. Keeping your focus on the the worksheet Infront of you but a demon snatched your pencil.

"Hey, doesn't this remind you of Someone?" the demon laughed, pointing the pencil at you.

But they took it another step, they easily snapped the pencil in half with one hand. Throwing it back at you. You flinched away, covering your face but luckily it landed on the table.

They were all snickering. Prodding at your arms and sides. You squirmed away from them and slapped their hands.

"leave me alone..."

A different male demon grabbed your wrist, inspecting your slim wrist.

"hey don't grab them like that, you might break them! I mean look at them, they're bone!" The female demon mocked concern.

"Aw come on~ can't handle a few jokes? Humans really are weak."

Your wrist was thrown from his grasp; it smacked on the table and you hissed. Just before you could do anything the classroom door suddenly opened. The demons all whispered a fearful "oh shit" under their breath.

Lucifer:

"I see you're living up to the title 'lesser demon', how wonderful for you."

His condescending smile immediately drooped

His hands moved swiftly and a whip appeared in them, he glared at them

The three of them gulped, looking at each other

"How many lashing should I give them, perhaps everytime they insulted you? Every snicker or chuckle - how about everytime they breathed?"

he snapped the whip with a snarl

They looked at you for mercy and you considered letting Lucifer having his way

But you felt a sick feeling in your stomach knowing how vicious he could get

"i just want an apology and to be left alone..."

"You heard them, beg for forgiveness and if i find any of you were bothering them again I won't let them decide your fate."

The three demons immediately got on their knees, legs shaking as they apologized repeatedly for their actions

You knew it was fake but apart of you felt happy hearing their apology

"you can leave now."

On that cue they ran out making sure to dodge the quick whip from Lucifer

The last one Getting caught on the butt and practically jumped out of the room

"They're foolish, love, you are absolutely ravishing and I could never ask for a more wonderful partner, let's go get some ice cream - my treat to help your bad day."

Mammon:

"ya wanna repeat that? Don't be going all silent just because I'm here~ go on, keep insulting the human, see what happens."

He chuckled, hands in pockets

The demons weren't sure how to respond

To test what he'll do or play it safe

Mammon twiddled a playing card between his fingers, a smirk on his face as he stood behind you

One of the demons opened their mouth but he just flicked his wrist, the card sticking itself in the wall just missing the demon

"I ain't very forgiving, ya see so it's best you start apologizing now or things could get abit messy."

You was surprised by how fast they all dropped

Apologizing and begging for you to forgive them

"Please leave, you've apologized enough."

They all ran out thanking you for being so kind

"awww but (Y/N), you could of made them your posse!"

"I just wanted them to leave, I know they aren't actually sorry."

"hfmp, they better be or else I'll get 'em - did I look cool?! I was practising that trick for weeks!"

You chuckled, kissing his cheek

He grinned even wider as he grabbed your hand

"you were real cool, you were like a spy."

"does that make you my stunning partner in crime? Your looks lure in the suspects and I get them? You can't convince me otherwise - you're a real beaut."

Levithan:

"LMAO, your faces~! I can't wait for this to go viral, perhaps even Prince Diavolo will see this, wouldn't that be unfortunate."

He kept filming, pointing the camera at their faces

They looked even more Horrified

A powerful demon was already coming to get them but now the prince could get involved?

"should I post it, (Y/N)? You're in it after all."

"I just want them to leave me alone, I don't care."

Levithan hummed, displeased at the demons

"it's pretty rude you're just standing there and not apologizing, they're the one in charge if you get found out or not."

The demons gasped, staring at you and then back at Levithan

They immediately started apologizing, blaming their actions on just jealousy

You shook your head and they began to sweat

Fearing they're going to put on blast for their actions

Surprised by your defeated sigh

"just go....it's not worth it."

Levi was about to argue differently but the demon had already left

"Wha!!!! I felt like an anime protagonist! Did they say anything else to you?! I swear they can't tell what beauty is-"

"it's fine, they weren't wrong."

"HUUUH???!!!!!! don't listen to them, (Y/N), I think you look just fine the way you are and yo-you should see yourself as attractive too-! because you're awesome and Your loo-looks are even more cool!"

He hugged you, hiding his red face in your shoulder

Satan:

"You're brave to think you're in any position to even breathe in their direction, for all our dignities It would be best you apologize and leave."

They were ready to bolt right there and then

They looked at you and started to apologize but Satan clicked his teeth

"be sincere, we can be here for as long as we want until you feel genuine guilt for your actions."

He slammed his hand down on the table

The lesser demons cowered

You just sat there, frowning

You just wanted to be left alone and let your feelings out

The demons apologized again

Making sure to add sincerity in their voice but Satan kept making them repeat themselves

It got to the point you had to cut him off

"It's fine, they've apologized, let them leave."

He hummed, annoyed but nodded

The demons scrambled out of the room, fearing to even look at the two of you

"if you ever need me to go back at them I'll do just that, I couldn't believe they would say something like that to you."

"thanks for helping, just let them leave instead of using your energy."

"I'll try to but I'll make sure there is no next time, you don't deserve to be spoken to like that and you are far more charming than any of them, I for one, adore how you look."

Asmodeus:

"repeat that again~? I hope I didn't hear you three insulting my darling, it's so ugly to shame others for their body."

The demons tried to utter out a response but he just stared at them

Tilting his head as he smiled

He got closer to them, staring into their eyes

Soon enough they were charmed

"why don't you tell me why you thought it was okay to speak to (Y/N) like that."

They all began speaking; expressing their envy for your relationship with asmo and the other demons

One of them just telling him they saw you as fragile and unlikable

Asmo smiled wider before suddenly grabbing one their chins, a snarl on his face now

"do you feel sorry? Are you ashamed of yourself?"

They all said yes, apologizing to you

"thanks asmo, you can let them go now."

He happily did as you said, telling them to leave

He nuzzled into your body, hands wandering over it as he grinned

"They're just jealous demons who can't handle their own Insecurities, you're not like them, everything about you is good looking - inside and out! I couldn't ask for anything more~"

"Seriously...?"

"yes!!! I'm in love with you and your body is marvelous to look at, i can't get enough of you!"

Beezlebub:

"Apologize and leave or I'll make you my next meal."

Straight to the point

And it was effective

His size was already intimidating but his willingness to devour whatever he wanted was scarier

They apologized to you, Getting on their knees and telling you how gorgeous you were

You felt your mood get worse so you waved your hand

"don't bother, a sorry was enough, you can leave now."

They shot up but Beel bite the air Infront of them when they passed him

They shrieked and picked up their speed

"I can't stand people like that.... they're more clueless than mammon."

He sat with you

Clenching his jaw, you held his hand and leaned against him

"Don't listen to them, I think you look really nice, I like the way you look but I know the important thing is that you like the way you look, I don't mind how you look because you'll still always be you."

Belphegor:

"Hey gorgeous, are these idioits bothering you? What a shame, I was hoping lesser demons knew how to keep in their place."

He wrapped an arm around you

Glaring at the lesser demons, they grew more nervous under his hateful eye

They muttered to themselves for not realising he was there but belphie mocked them, asking them to speak up

"what's with the change of energy? You were confident about your opinions before, what changed?"

They couldn't answer without looking weak

Belphegor only grinned at them

He kissed your cheek

"that's what I thought, scram!"

They ran off, not daring to look at you

They couldn't even hiss or glare, knowing the demon behind you would have their throat for it

They were lucky to not get hurt when he found them

"thanks, sorry, did you come here to sleep?"

"I was looking for you, keep me close, okay? Don't listen to those demons - they wouldn't be able to tell what's good or not even if their lives depended on it, you're perfect the way you are."

[footballfanfictions]

The thrill of the chase - Chapter Six

Pairings: Mason Mount/OC, Ben Chilwell/OC

Warnings: Grovelling Ben and a very upset Mason. 

------------------------------------------------------------

Katie

  Three more days passed with radio silence from Ben. I stormed into my office on Thursday morning feeling incredibly grumpy and resentful towards everyone else. That was until I opened the door and the smell of fresh flowers hit my nose. 

Every available surface apart from a small workspace on the desk was covered in vases filled with white roses, lilies and purple flowers that I didn’t recognise. 

As I moved some of the vases to make space to set up my computer and tablet next to my screen I realised that there was someone stood in my doorway.

“Billy! I’ve not seen you for days. How are you?”I asked chirpily, my bad mood already lifting.

“Ye good darl, see you got Chilly’s flowers then?” he stepped closer to one vase and inspected the flowers before saying “I think mine for Bri were better.”

I laughed, shaking my head at him. The start up screen on the computer flashed up and I logged in. Immediately I started to get google alerts and other pop ups for our social media channels and some of the players’ personal accounts.

“You’re going to be busy today. Mason’s mrs has been all over social media going bat shit crazy all evening, accusing him of cheating and allsorts.” 

I narrowed my eyes at the screen trying to pick out Mason’s name in the pop ups. 

“Are you sure?” I asked as I scrolled through.

Billy was right though, Mason’s social media was flooded with people commenting in the defence of his girlfriend, asking how he could ever dare cheat on her. I clicked through from Mason’s page to hers and listened to the short clip from her tik tok where she explained that Mason’s head wasn’t fully in their relationship and she felt that could only mean one thing, that he was cheating on her. I rolled my eyes but at the same time I didn’t quite know what to think. Was Mason really that type of guy? Footballers have a really shit reputation for cheating because they can basically get any girl that they want but we had that chat the other day when I was upset about Ben and he had told me that he didn’t want to end things with her because he was scared of being alone.

“Do you think he actually did it? I can do a better job of squashing this if he didn’t” 

Billy shook his head and straight away said “No way. Ok he’s not really in it anymore but he feels really bad about that because they’ve been together so long and she even went with him when he played for Vitesse.”

“Do you think that you can send him my way when he’s free? I’ll do my best to block the trolls and we’ll deal with the rest when I see him.”

 --------------------------------------------------------

  “I am so sorry for running out on you last weekend.” 

Ben had come in from training to spend his lunch break with me and was currently grovelling. I was quite enjoying having his attention again and wasn’t going to let him off the hook for disappearing that easily. 

“Can I ask what was so important?”

“It’s going to sound stupid but I went back to Leicester. There was this kid there that I used to give my shirts to every week and he tweeted that it was his birthday and that he never got my shirt from the last game I played so I kind of panicked and drove up there with it.” he said.

He seemed genuine and if true, that was a very nice thing to do for a young fan. I felt the ice wall around my heart melt a little. 

“I guess I can forgive you then.” I smiled.

“I hope no one told you to stop seeing me.” he mumbled, his head slightly turned in the direction of the door as if he was checking no one was listening.

I laughed and took a dramatic pause before I responded. “Bri was too loved up with Billy to give any kind of real opinion on the matter and the only other person I spoke to was Mase who told me that I should give you another chance.”

Ben shifted uncomfortably in his seat at the mention of Mason’s name which seemed a little bit weird but then again he probably knew about what was happening in Mason’s relationship right now so dropped whatever he was going to say about it. 

“Do you want to go and see a movie later? Mads has been going on and on about one he saw recently. Can’t remember the name of the top of my head but it sounds good.” 

“That sounds nice. As long as it’s not a horror film then I’m up for it.” I responded.

Then feeling bad that I had been a bit stand-offish with him, I leant across the desk and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. As I sat back down in my seat he mumbled “tease.”

“Sorry you still don’t get to go back to full benefits that easy Mr Chilwell.” I grinned. 

“Ok then gorgeous. Can I pick you up at about 7? I’ll look at the film times and see if we can squeeze dinner in before.” he said, standing from his chair and subtly trying to brush crumbs from his sandwich onto the floor. 

“Yeah ok, I’ll be ready by then. I’m hoping that I won’t need to stay late tonight.” I stood from behind the desk to see him out and pecked him again on the lips just outside my office. 

“See you later.” he grinned before leaving in the direction of the training pitches.

Just as Ben turned the corner, Mason came towards the door from the opposite direction, his brow furrowed. 

“Are you here to see me?” I asked him.

“Of course, you asked for me?” 

He sounded very upset so I tried my best not to get snappy at him.

“Sorry, I just wasn’t sure if you had gotten the message that’s all. Come in and I’ll make us a drink.”

His expression softened a little then and he entered the office, heading straight for the more comfortable chairs over the in the corner.

Thinking that it might be more comforting than a coffee, I made him a hot chocolate and finished it off with whipped cream on top. The only thing missing from it was some chocolate sprinkles.

He laughed when I passed him the mug and said “hey where are the smarties or the dolly mixtures?”

“It does seem like it needs something on top of the cream doesn’t it?” I laughed.

We sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes while Mason sipped his drink and tried to calm himself down. 

“I’ve seen her video.” I started.

“It’s a load of shit. You know it’s a load of shit right? Do you know what brought her to post that? They have a fucking new song coming out that’s about cheating and revenge and she wanted to use our relationship to promote it so their PR people told her to post a video about suspecting me of cheating to get her social media engagement up!” his voice escalated in volume as he spoke.

“Are you telling me that it was fake?”

He nodded. “Sorry for getting so angry and aggressive about it but how dare she shit on me and my image to further hers?!”

“Fuck, ok. I’m trying to think about how we manage this. If we come out and say that you haven’t done anything then I’m sure she’ll make your life living hell for it. If you were to break up with her over this, she can then make it spiral even more out of control and can use that to almost confirm her story.” I sighed, feeling so frustrated and angry for him. 

“I want to break up with her now. I can’t stand the sight of her face. I don’t think I can go home and see her tonight. I don’t know what to do. I know you say she can then make it worse but I don’t know if I care at this point.” he put his head in his hands.

“Speaking to you as a friend, I think you need to do what is best for you and we will deal with the fall out from it together. We put out something this afternoon on your socials that deny her claims and we continue to do that until the story dies.” I said.

He looked over the top of his hands at me and nodded.

“Do you trust me to do this for you?” I asked.

“Of course. I’m grateful for your time. I know this isn’t exactly part of your job.”

“Marina would never forgive me if I let this get out of control and it started to affect your performance of the pitch or brought the image of the club into disrepute.” I put my hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently, hoping that he found the little bit of contact reassuring. 

He looked at me, the hands that had been covering his face now in his lap and bit his lip. There was a silence between us again, and just as I was about to ask him if he felt any better, he leant in and pressed his lips against mine, his left hand coming up and cupping my cheek.

It took a lot longer for me to react and pull away from him than it should have, and he looked shocked when I did.

“Fuck!” he shouted before scrambling out of his seat and walking quickly to the door, running his hands through his hair. “Fuck!” he shouted again before slamming the door shut behind him.

[tinyyoungblood]

the novelty of lines | tom holland

summary: being trapped with your boyfriend in a bookstore can go many different ways. good and not so good. like getting hit on by a stranger. but does that really matter if tom knows exactly what to do?

pairing: tom holland x reader

word count: 2229

warnings: language, fluff

a/n: if this doesn’t get deleted again, i’ll buy everyone ice cream *laughs through the pain* sorry to anyone who might have already come across the first post:/ this is my first submission to @hollandsrecs​​ ‘s 1k bingo writing event! go check out her amazing fic recs! 

* * *

The echo of another thunder bellowed through the streets, making you shudder and lean into Tom for a sense of safety. His hand grazed your waist and you nuzzled yourself further into his body. “You okay?” You looked up to worried brown eyes and nodded once.

“I’ve always thought being stuck in a bookstore could be quite romantic. Turns out it has some Purge potential too.”

His chuckle conjured a small smile on your lips and you felt him trace tiny shapes into your skin. “Well, the rain does add something,” he said and you hummed. Letting go of your waist, you were turned to face him. “How about you go look for that book we came for, and I’ll go check out some new books they got in the back? We can meet in a few and when the storm is over, we can go grab some coffee. Sounds good?”

You nodded affirmatively and the twinkling in your eyes made his heart melt. “Add some baked goods and you got yourself a happy girlfriend.” Pressing a soft kiss on your lips, you both parted ways and with a fuzzy heart, you watched as Tom disappeared behind a shelf before you started your own quest of finding the newest book of your favorite author. Thanks to an abundance of afternoons spent in this place, you naturally navigated toward a table in the middle of the room that most likely contained what you were looking for—and your inner compass didn’t disappoint. It only took a few seconds until your gaze fell on the familiar name and a smile curved around your lips. Picking up the hardcover, you tugged a few strands of hair behind your ear and examined the paperback in awe.

Unbeknownst to you, your little gesture had caught the attention of a guy your age and invited him to come talk to you. It took you by surprise, but he was polite, so you let yourself have an easy five minutes conversation until he started to hit on you.

Tom was just rounding the corner again when he heard a familiar laugh. He immediately recognized your fake laugh and it made him stop in his tracks. Peering around the corner, his eyes landed on a guy chatting you up. Knowing exactly what was going to happen to the poor guy shooting his shot, he leaned against the wall to enjoy the show for a second.

“So what is a pretty thing like you doing here all by herself?” The guy asked with a smirk pestering his lips.

You eyed him and cocked your head to the side. “Where?”

Taken aback, he stared at you for a moment. “Uhm, you know, here.” He laughed awkwardly and Tom smiled to himself.

Acting like the light bulb over your head lit up, you replied, “Oh, you mean in Chicago?”

Tom had to stifle his laugh as the confused guy ran his hand through his hair. The interaction was painful to witness, but it brought up sweet memories. This was exactly what you did when the two of you had first met in London. You were in a coffee shop and Tom was hitting on you, hopefully, a bit smoother though, and in response, you acted slow and dull like you were doing at the moment. Tom, of course, saw right through and called you out on it. He remembered you only laughed and didn’t hesitate to call him out on his crap too, and that was the start of a beautiful friendship. It didn’t take long for you two to start dating after.

But in contrast to Tom, the guy didn’t seem to pick up on your way to cease the conversation and tried his last sprinkles of luck. “S-Sure…Are you here often?” He hinted and once more, you feigned confusion.

“You mean at the bookstore?”

For a second, you swore you saw his spirit left his body. But he was determined to keep going. “Chicago, bookstore, same thing, right?” He let out a forced laugh and you couldn’t help but smile amusedly. You did have to give him some credit for the effort.

“Hmm. I live in Chicago, so yeah.” His eyes lit up and you felt bad for leading him on, thus deciding to end this talk as fast as possible.

“Sweet, so chances are high that we will meet again…right?” He asked suggestively and you decided to top it off with the sweet cherry of obliviousness.

“No silly, I don’t live in the bookstore, so I guess the chances are pretty slim.” Tom’s eyes widened and he had to cup his mouth to silence his laugh. The guy stared at you dumbfounded and you were almost certain he would leave now. To your luck, that was not the case.

“You can always give me your address?” He tried again and that was Tom’s cue to walk up to you. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he gave the baffled guy a meek smile.

“Sorry, pal. She lost the piece of paper that has her address on it.” Glancing to him with wide eyes, you forced a quizzical smile and Tom grinned back broadly. “Ready to go, darling?” You hummed and turned around to walk away. Looking over your shoulder again, you gave the guy an apologetic smile and lifted your shoulder in a shrug before wandering off with Tom.

When you were out of his earshot, you halted and pointed at the prominent smirk on your boyfriend’s face. “You asshole.” He pursed his lips amusedly.

“What a cute pet name.”

“You were listening to our conversation,” you accused and he shrugged.

“Possibly.”

You gasped and narrowed your eyes at him. The corner of your lips, however, quirked up and you had to hit his shoulder in response to his cocked brow. “You could’ve saved me earlier!”

Tom snickered. “But where’s the fun in that, darling?”

Pouting, you turned your back to him and feigned interest in some of the books displayed on the table in front of you. Suddenly, two arms snaked around your waist, and you were pulled backward, prompting you to squeal in surprise. “Tom!”

He whispered into your ear, “Shhh, I’m trying to be a romantic asshole right now.” He dragged you to the very back of the store where he usually spent most of his time, so you genuinely expected him to simply show you a new book he found. Just in his very dramatic own way. When he let you go and you were planted on steady feet again, you whipped around to face him.

“Not cool.” You jabbed your finger into his chest and he rolled his eyes at you.

Pecking your nose, he stepped aside and revealed a big purple velvet blanket placed neatly in the corner of the store. It was covered in mismatched pillows of all colors, and Tom watched carefully as your eyes widened—fairy lights reflecting in them. You stepped forward and picked up one of the two white mugs that carried the soft smell of hot chocolate.  “Did you do this all by yourself?” You asked, your words laced with every inch of surprise you felt at the moment.

He nodded proudly. “Hannah didn’t mind, so I thought, why not make your romantic bookstore dreams come true.” He shrugged casually, but you could see that he was just as excited as you were. “You like it?”

You placed the mug on the ground and faced him. “Do I like—Tom, I love it! This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. I still can’t believe it.” Your eyes were twinkling with joy, resembling a starry night sky, and he couldn’t believe how beautiful you were. Softly pulling you forward, you pressed your lips on his and the sweet taste made his heart flutter. You pressed him closer and closer, fingers threading through his soft curls while his hands roamed your sides. Gently pulling away again, you giggled at the dreamy look on his face and grabbed his hand. Once the two of you were seated on the soft blanket, hidden away from the rest of the store due to the big shelves, you were quick to bring the mug up to your lips to get a taste.

Mirroring your action, a strong swirl of chocolate enveloped Tom’s tongue and spread warmth down his throat. You moaned at the sweetness and let your head fall back. “This is too good.” Tom agreed and picked up the book you were still holding in your hand. Reading through the synopsis on the back, a small smile edged around his lips and you giggled. “Tom, that’s a thriller about a guy who goes on a killing spree. Why are you grinning like a psycho?”

He let out a brief laugh. “I’m not laughing because of the book.” He tossed it on your lap. “I just can’t stop thinking about how you did the exact same thing when we first met. You know, with the acting slow.”

The fact that he remembered made you smile and you lifted your shoulder in a half shrug. “I do it with everybody who hits on me.”

“Like a bit?” He asked curiously and took another sip from his mug.

You cocked your head to the side and thought about it. “Kinda. You really have no other choice when guys come up to you with the dumbest lines. It’s a default setting.”

Feigning offense, he slapped his hand on his chest. “I beg to differ! I did not say a dumb line.”

“Probably not the dumbest line I’ve heard.” You brought the mug up to your lips. “But very dumb nonetheless.” Tom furrowed his brows and pouted at you, making you giggle. “Do you remember what you said?”

His gaze averted to the ground for a second, but he shook his head. “No…But it couldn’t have been any dumber than what he said.” Tom jabbed his thumb over his shoulder and you grinned.

“If only you knew…” you trailed off teasingly and he leaned forward.

“What was it?”

You hummed and shrugged playfully, making him grab your mug and set it aside with his own. “Y/N Y/L/N, tell me how I made a fool of myself the day we met.” You had to bit your bottom lip to cease the smile, but that gave Tom the last push to lean forward and tackle you to the ground, fingers attacking your sides and the sound of your laughter seeped through the quiet bookstore.

“T-Tom! S-stop it—Tom, I mean i-it,” you coaxed out and Tom leaned down to your ear.

“Are you going to tell me what I said to you that day?” Reluctantly, you nodded. His hands left your side and you sat up while the last bits of your hysteria died down. Dramatically wiping away some tears, you shuffled forward and placed your arms on his shoulder to lock your fingers behind his head. His eyes locked with yours and he waited in anticipation as you fought with your lopsided grin. You cleared your throat for suspense.

“On the day we met, you came to my booth, and sat down. Then you looked me straight in the eye and asked me Are you from England? ‘Cause I can really see a queen in you.”

You watched as Tom internally broke down from the crippling cringe. He was blushing madly and the tip of his ears were bloodshot red, making you giggle and press a quick kiss on his warm cheek. When you wanted to pull away, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders to nuzzle his head in the crook of your neck. “I can’t believe I said that,” he mumbled and you laughed.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. It could’ve been way worse.” He leaned back to look at you.

“Oh yeah? How? I can’t see a way to outdo that. It’s really bad, I’m surprised you didn’t die of a stroke that day.”

“Bet. Harrison once came up to me all excited to read me a pickup line he found on Buzzfeed. I think it went My dick is called Big Ben. And you know where you'll find it. And then he just giggled and ran away.”

Tom broke out laughing. At this point, you were sure people must have thought you two were crazy but you didn’t mind. “Oh my god, what did you tell him?” He reached out to your waist as you turned around to lean your back against his chest. His arms wrapped around your figure and you sighed contently.

“Well, he was already halfway across the yard, but I told him afterward that it’s a great line and that he should use it sometime at the pub. I think he actually did.”

Tom’s chest vibrated against your back as the sweet sound of his laughter swept you off the ground. Seeing him this happy was everything to you and you closed your eyes for a second, just to open them again right after to make sure that you weren’t dreaming. Spending an afternoon trapped in a bookstore with your boyfriend during a thunderstorm sounded like it came straight from a novel, but apparently, you lived inside your own novel and within it, you were allowed to dream as much as you wished.

* * *

it’s been a while since my last one shot, so i hope this makes up for it! hope you enjoyed it and if you did, feel free to leave some feedback. thank you as always for reading! have a wonderful day/night peeps <3

taglist: @honeypie-holland​ @himarisolace​​ @duskholland​​ @insidiousslut​​ @siriuslyslyslytherin​​ @hollandsrecs​​ @quaksonhehe​​ @chloecreatesfictions​​ @writertoo18​

[siriusheadspace]

august - sirius black x muggle!reader

Warnings: I guess it's a bit angsty? But it's also cute, summer love fluff, so idk

Pairing: Sirius Black x Muggle!Reader

Summary: You meet a cute boy in your summer job. You share secrets and live a beautiful summer love, but will you still see each other once school starts again? Inspired by "august", by Taylor Swift.

A/N: Thank you so so so so much for liking my last fic, illicit affairs! I guess I'll have to create a master list here lol. This one's a bit less gloomy and there's *sequel potential*, so please tell me if that's something you'd be interested in! Also, should I open requests? Do you guys have any? lol. I'm taking too long in this A/N, so lemme shut up. Enjoy the fic!

Words: 3.5k ish

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Salt air And the rust on your door I never needed anything more

You were chewing the pen cap while at an especially tedious English Literature class. A head full of luscious black hair poked through the door, and you jumped in your chair, thinking for a second it could be the person you missed the most. But, of course, it was just a girl asking the teacher to make a class announcement. You tuned out immediately and let the memories flood through your mind. It was just the beginning of summer and your first day at an ice cream parlor in the middle of London. It was a funny neighbourhood - you didn't know why, but it always had a couple of people wearing the weirdest outfits, like weird flowy capes and tunics. But that wasn't really important - you just wanted to make a little money of your own this summer, and the ice cream gig was supposed to be easy. You quickly found out it wasn't as easy as it should be, since the owner decided to leave you to be cashier and server from the start, leaving you alone on your first day after little training. You were stressed, trying to guess if the ice cream machine was supposed to be that noisy or if you already broke it after only a few customers, when someone got in. Sirius regretted everything about spending the summer with his family. He was fifteen going on sixteen and decided to spend most of his days roaming through London, looking for a way to have a halfway decent summer, sending letters to his friends every day. He was about to go spend the day at the Diagon Alley, but he figured he could actually try to see different stuff for the day. Muggle stuff. Perhaps get a couple of new posters for his bedroom? That would piss off his mother. He smiled at the thought. But it was too damn hot for the beginning of summer, and he definitely wore too much black for his comfort under the scolding, rare sunshine. His locks of dark hair were starting to get wet with sweat, and he decided to put his muggle money to good use when he went by an ice cream parlor. He was pleasantly surprised to be greeted by one of the most beautiful girls he'd ever seen, her hair in a lazy, long braid, her skin tanned and glowing, and her brows frowned as if she was bothered to see him. And you'd never forget how pleasantly surprised you were to see the tall guy that just went inside the store. You'd never be able to forget the way that there was something else about him - he was gorgeous, his long strides revealing from far away how tall he was, his hair pulled back in a makeshift bun - but there was just more, an aura that made him magnetic; magic, you first though instinctively, but shook the thought. Charisma, perhaps. But you'd soon found out it was his own particular mix of both. The bell started ringing and pulled you away from your memories.

Whispers Of "Are you sure?" "Never have I ever before"

While you walked through the corridor, you felt the rush of excitement you'd always feel when you remembered you knew a secret, one so special no one would believe you, even if you told them. "You must know something about me, doll", he said, cuddling with you on your bed in the middle of the afternoon, your parents still away at work. You ended up quitting the job pretty quickly after your first day, but you were making good use of your free afternoons. "What, babe?", you said, and you felt his smirk against the top of your head, where his lips were, him breathing in your scent. You liked to use gauche pet names as much as he did. "That you're not the smartest, since it's very stupid for us to cuddle in the middle of a hot afternoon? Or that you're actually really smart, but just enjoy being around me anyway?", you joked. "How very funny of you. I am actually kind of smart, I swear", he said, jokingly, but you felt him tense up as he started talking again. "It's sort of a serious thing, actually", he said. "A… Sirius thing, you mean?", you joked again, but he brushed it off with a quick laugh. "You would know if you'd let me finish speaking", he said, and you waited. He got up and seemed nervous, not sure what to do with his hands. You never saw him like this. "Do you know how you always ask me how do I do a few things? Like, how did I fix the vase I broke the first time I came here so perfectly?" he asked, and you nodded. "You said you got another one", you squinted your eyes, trying to guess where he was going. "On the same day? Y/N, I want to be close to you, to be truthful to you. And I can't do that if you don't know about such a huge part of my life", he said. "I have… certain… habilities. And my family does, too. And my friends, as well. The school I go to… Everyone has these abilities", he completed, and pulled out a stick from his backpack. No, not a stick - not by the way he held it, with purpose. You looked for the right word in your head. A wand. "Can I trust you with the biggest secret humanity has?", he asked, and you nodded. "You can trust me with anything and everything", you said. And nothing was ever the same.

But I can see us Lost in the memory August slipped away into a moment in time

You missed him so much your entire body ached; the feeling of his callous fingertips against your cheeks, the pressure of lips on yours, how his tongue felt against yours, his laughter tickling your skin… You had to stop thinking about him. It was no good and absolutely useless. It was good while it lasted, but it was over. Still, walking home, you couldn't stop thinking about how it was once you were in on the secret, how he'd do magic in front of you, how he would tell you all about Hogwarts, about his friends… And you knew back then that there wasn't a place for you in that world.

'Cause it was never mine And I can see us twisted in bedsheets August sipped away Like a bottle of wine 'Cause you were never mine

You could remember the warm nights you spent together, once your parents decided to spend a weekend away, visiting friends or your grandparents, and how you had to pretend to be sleeping over a friend's house while you had Sirius over. You would meet at a pub, and he'd charm someone into selling you beers, so you would drink together, just enough to feel buzzed. Sirius loved teasing you. He would start by just brushing his knee against yours, but as the alcohol got to the both of you, he would get bolder, running his fingers up and down your thigh under your flimsy summer dress, whispering sweet nothings against your ear, kissing your neck. You felt so much joy, basking in his attention and his carresses. The walk to your house would always take longer than it should. He was the most sociable creature, making quick friends with everyone that grabbed his eye. He would help an old lady carry her groceries to her apartment, completely out of your way back home, while charming her; there was the time where he joined a deep conversation about bikes with a guy that had one, this huge black Harley Davidson, convincing the guy to let the two of you, clearly tipsy teenagers, to have a ride on it. It took Sirius five minutes to figure out the basics of riding that bike and convincing you to join him. "Don't you trust me, baby?", he pouted, and you gave him a quick peck - you couldn't resist his pouts and pleading. "Not with that bike, I don't", you said, watching him already seated at the bike as if it belonged to him. He looked the part, his muggle (the word always bothered you) clothes made him look like the hot, moody guitar player in a rock band, the wind flowing from his side making his hair fly in front of his face. "Then take a little risk", he chuckled, pulling you closer to him. "You can use it as an excuse to feel my abs", he said, and it was your turn to laugh. "Ok, I'm sold", you sighed dramatically, and sat behind him, your hands creeping under his shirt for a moment when you wrapped your arms around him. The speed was more intoxicating than the few beers you had, the wind whipping your exposed skin, the noise violent on your ears, the warmth that came from Sirius' back being the only thing that made you feel safe. Once you gave the bike back to its owner and were back on your foot, you would still take your time on the way there, Sirius listening to stories about your friends, the books you were reading, the movies you were watching - you promised to take him to the movies, shocked to hear that he never set foot on a movie theater. And sometimes, since you would take that long on your way home just to tease each other, he would push a loose strand of hair behind your ear and pull you in for a kiss, your back quickly meeting whatever wall was closer and spending a few minutes against the texture of the tiles while Sirius gave you long, slow kisses, trying to make the most of the night. Once you got home, you would barely have the focus necessary to find the keys and open the door, and Sirius oftenly used magic to make your life easier. "Alohomora", he said, opening the door soon after, and you chuckled. "You sound so hot when you speak fake latin", you said, and he laughed while he followed you inside, quicky going back to kissing you while you tried to guide him to your bedroom. On those nights, after he was fast asleep, his smug expression erased out of his face by sleep, you never thought about how it would be between the two of you once summer was over.

Your back Beneath the sun Wishing I could write my name on it

One week, you decided you would both spend a couple days in Brighton Beach, counting every penny that you had so you could afford two nights in the middle of the week in a cheap bungalow. Sirius had exchanged magical money for muggle money and it wasn't as hard as you thought it would be to get the amount necessary. "Well, my family sucks, but at least my allowance is halfway decent", he smirked, but the smile didn't get to his eyes. "It does help that muggle money is so devalued. Shouldn't you guys complain with your prime minister, or something?", he said, expecting you to go along in the joke as you usually would. But he touched on a subject that you felt it was taboo: he never talked about his family. You knew something was wrong - all the time you spent together was outside or in your house, and he never seemed too keen in having to go back to his parents place. "Is this the moment where you tell me more about your family?", you asked, and he sighed. "It didn't go unnoticed that you felt more comfortable to tell me about actual magic before taking me to meet your mom", you joked, but he knew you meant it. "Oh, Y/N… You could never meet my family. They'd never be able to appreciate you", he told you, and then went on to explain how there's a side of the wizarding world that despises muggles, that values purity of blood before anything else, and it killed you inside, a bit. That you were right in that gut feeling that you tried to ignore. He was too good for you. You didn't belong together. There was a whole part of his society that focused on that. And his family was totally on that side. But you avoided thinking about that in those two blissful nights away. You were close before, but that routine - waking up together, cooking breakfast for each other, seeing him getting letters from his friends delivered by owls that came inside the kitchen of the bungalow as if that was normal. He bought a polaroid in the beggining of summer and tried to adapt it to take magical pictures - according to them, they were supposed to move - but it didn't work. Still, you documented those days in normal polaroids, from candids of him drinking tea in the morning to pictures of you at the beach, and he sent one of you two together to his closest friends, and your heart ached at the thought of part of his world being even the least bit accepting of you. You'd trace random patterns on the skin on his back while he tried to tan, writing your name on him and hoping there would always be a part of him that belonged to you, that would be able to return to you once you were apart, like you did with your favorite toys when you were a kid. A childish desire to keep him with you. You loved your nights out, holding hands while going on rides that were probably unsafe and operated by other teenagers, convincing Sirius to try to win you prizes, and actually getting him a teddy bear - you were a better shot. And he would try to do magic discreetly when you asked him to cook or clean something, and you messed with him for cheating on those chores. It felt like you could absolutely live together forever, making that little bungalow home for those magical hours. You even held his wand, felt the texture of the wood against your fingertips, noticed how it was well used, the parts of it where you could see that his hands touched more oftenly, the worn wood reminding you how he was a part of something that you could only imagine for way longer than he was part of your life and your world. But he soon joked that you were "taking too long playing with his wrong wand", and you'd laugh and kiss him and forget your concerns.

Will you call when you're back at school? I remember thinking I had you

You felt the nervousness as the summer approached its inescapable end. As Sirius went out to buy school supplies one afternoon, you couldn't escape the anxiety caused by the uncertainty surrounding your relationship. You just spent the most amazing few months of your life with this guy you absolutely Loved, with a capital L, and you weren't even sure you'd meet again after a few days. You didn't know his address and you couldn't send letters there anyway. You had no idea how to send a letter to Hogwarts. Once you met him at a park near wherever he would buy supplies for a magic school, with him excited to show you what he got and hear about your day, you were already unable to hide the change in your mood. "What's wrong, sweetheart? I was just talking about you with James and..." he said, and he noticed he chose the wrong words when you winced at him. "So you can't even introduce me to your friends that are supposed to be tolerant that you're dating a muggle?", you asked, trying to sound mean, but he could hear how much you were hurting under the façade of anger. "It's not like that, Y/N. There's too many people from Hogwarts there now, people that don't like me or my friends and despise, hum, people like you, and it would be dangerous for you if they knew they could hurt me by messing with you", he explained, but it didn't soothe the pain in your chest. "What is it gonna be like once you're not here, Sirius? Is there a way for us to even talk? I don't own a magic owl, and I don't think the postman is going to able to find Hogwarts", you said, spiteful. "Do you even want to continue this, us? Or are you going to be with people your friends and family can actually know about and meet, that can defend themselves instead of just being a source of weakness for you?", you asked, your voice trembling, all the thoughts you avoided for months taking space and energy, growing inside of you and blurting out. "Y/N..." Sirius started, but you were done for the day. You got up and went home.

But I can see us Lost in the memory August slipped away into a moment in time 'Cause it was never mine

You liked being with him too much to waste your last few days together, so you accepted his apologies for not taking you to meet his friends or more of his life, but you couldn't help but notice that he didn't have plans to do what he apologized for not doing. Still, you enjoyed your last few days, the picnics under the last few sunny days of the year, taking him to the movies to watch silly horror movies that Sirius fell in love with, making out with him under the soft movie lights that reflected beautifully on his gray eyes.

And I can see us twisted in bedsheets August sipped away Like a bottle of wine 'Cause you were never mine

The last night you had together made you nervous. Sirius had prepared himself to go straight from your house back to the station, hiding his luggage on your parents garage and climbing to your window. You drank wine you stole from your parents cabinet and talked in a low voice the entire night - you thought that was what you'd miss the most, just being near him and listening to his voice, to the varying inflections, to the fancy words thats would slip and denounce him as someone from a rich family, to his excitement at the perspective of being back with his friends, and to the low energy tone that followed once he said how much he would miss you. "Hey, I figured out how to keep in touch", he said, a coy smile creeping on his lips. "But I need to know at what time do you get home from school", he completed, and you quirked up a brow. He explained that his owl would bring you a letter from him and wait for you to answer with one of your own, since you didn't have another way of getting to him. You were happy that he found a solution, but it didn't go unnoticed, again, that it seemed like a simple solution that maybe he though about before, but wasn't sure he wanted to go through with you. Also, you'd always be at his mercy and will, having no way of contacting him besides when he wanted to hear from you. But at least there was a way, a chance…

Back when we were still changing for the better Wanting was enough For me, it was enough To live for the hope…

The next morning, he woke you up at dawn with a quick kiss and said goodbye, promising to contact you again. That was three weeks ago. I mean, you couldn't really blame him. He was beautiful, talented, smart, and everyone knew summer loves weren't forever. He was probably met by a swarm of beautiful witches that would do everything for him. It would be easy to forget about you, your normal, common life. But you felt resentment towards him. He could've just been honest, you thought. He shouldn't have given you hope. He should've been honest about your intentions. He shouldn't have made you act like a fool everytime your classes came to an end, always running home and looking for an owl in the sky, only to be greeted by the emptyness of your silent house. You were getting tired of feeling angry, though. It tarnished your beautiful memories of a perfect summer. You just had to say goodbye to your hopes of getting to see Sirius again, to hear his perfect laughter, always laughing with you and never at you, the ringing in your ear that would send a shiver through your back, or that you'd never feel the silky perfection of his hair tangled between your fingers again… You were trying to come to terms with that, distracted, once you got home. There was an owl on the front window, standing on the window sill. Your heart skipped a beat.