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anonymousewrites · 19 hours ago

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A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 2) Chapter Sixteen

Saiki Kusuo x Reader

Chapter Sixteen: Teruhashi's Tears and Rifuta's Crush

Summary: Teruhashi comes over and interrupts Saiki's New Year, but somehow she isn't the worst guest that comes. Also, (Y/N)'s hypothesis is spot-on about Rifuta.

Mr. and Mrs. Saiki laughed as (Y/N) told them about one of the many (unfortunate) adventures they had been on with Saiki—this time a tale of the karaoke party where Saiki had to end up performing. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t want his parents to know he’d done something so public since it would encourage them to bother him to do stupid stuff in front of people, but it was a fond memory since (Y/N) had been there, taken most of the attention, and made the entire thing worth it. So, he let (Y/N) continue as they beamed when they remembered dancing around and pretended to do it again. All-in-all, this was turning out to be a perfect New Year’s Day.

Alright, I’ve got the plan! I casually tell him Happy New Year, and then when I mention the festival, he’ll want to come along!

Saiki’s mood darkened. Of course Teruhashi was already here to bother him on a lovely day. So, to stop her from interrupting, he grabbed onto the doorbell of his house with his psychic abilities and smothered the sound of it.

There. No ruining my day.

“Hey, can I help you?”

Saiki jerked as he heard a voice speaking to Teruhashi. He hadn’t heard any other thoughts approaching, and the voice—

Him!

“What’s wrong, Kusuo?” asked (Y/N), noticing Saiki’s tiny change in mood.

There was a knock at the door, and Mrs. Saiki stood. She peered out the window and beamed.

“It’s Kusuke and Kokomi!” she said. “What a lovely surprise.”

Oh, that explains his mood, thought (Y/N), smothering a little chuckle. Saiki saw their amusement and scowled—though there was no real malice. (Y/N) chuckled and patted his hand. “We’ll deal with it.”

“Don’t let them in,” said Saiki as his mom headed to the door, but she was already opening the door.

“Welcome in!” she said, beaming. “Oh, Kusuke, you’re home!”

“Mom, it’s been a while,” said Kusuke, smiling.

“Happy New Year,” greeted Teruhashi politely. She saw (Y/N) and started slightly. “Oh, (Y/N). You’re here?”

Fortunately for Teruhashi, there was no annoyance at seeing them. They were friends, and that friendship meant Teruhashi’s inevitable jealousy at not getting Saiki alone was dampened. (And that was fortunate for Teruhashi because bad thoughts about (Y/N) meant getting onto Saiki’s bad side).

“My parents are out of town on a work trip,” said (Y/N), smiling. “The Saikis were nice enough to invite me over.”

That was the complete truth, they merely left out that Mrs. Saiki had also rambled about how “if (Y/N)’s family wasn’t going to take care of them as a family, then they were going to be part of the Saiki family, and Kusuo should get a move on and make sure they never leave because they’re just too sweet and—” (and so on and so forth).

“When are your parents actually at the house?” said Saiki.

(Y/N) shrugged. They were pretty much used to living independently at this point.

“Wait, do you two know each other?” said Mr. Saiki, looking between Teruhashi and Kusuke.

“She was ringing the doorbell, so I brought her in,” said Kusuke. His intelligence had just known it would irritate Saiki.

“The doorbell?” said Mr. Saiki.

“Oh, my, I’m so sorry, I didn’t hear it!” said Mrs. Saiki.

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow at Saiki. He looked away, and they tutted.

This is a huge revelation! I had no idea Saiki had an older brother! thought Teruhashi. But I don’t really like his type…Speaking of siblings “Is Kuriko here today?”

“What?” said Saiki’s parents.

Oh, right. Saiki had forgotten about his feminine name. I pretended to by my own sister, who doesn’t exist. I have to let them know.

“Kuriko?” said Mrs. Saiki, frowning.

“Oh, right, kuriko!” Mr. Saiki grabbed something from the kitchen—literal kuriko. “Here is kuriko for you.”

That’s kuri chestnut paste.

“No, I mean Saiki’s sister,” said Teruhashi. She looked at (Y/N). “You met her.”

“Right,” said (Y/N), smiling. “Isn’t it amazing how similar she and Kusuo look? Especially since their brother—”

“You can call me Kusuke,” said Kusuke.

“No.” Saiki didn’t need him being familiar or friendly with his partner.

“—looks so different with the blonde hair. Kuriko and Kusuo both have pink,” said (Y/N).

“That’s true,” said Teruhashi, smiling.

Good clue, thought Saiki. Hopefully his parents would get the hint.

“I don’t know any Kur—Mm!”

Kusuke shoved the kuri chestnut paste into his dad’s mouth and smiled. “Oh, of course! Our sister, Kuriko.” Of course the genius had figured the plot out. “She’s abroad right now, like I was. You know her?”

“Oh, really?” said Mr. Saiki, still a little confused but starting to get it.

“I do,” said Teruhashi.

Unbelievable, thought Saiki.

“Which country did she go to?” asked Teruhashi.

“Paraguay,” said Mr. Saiki.

“Paraguay?” said Teruhashi, amazed.

“Shut up,” said Saiki to Mr. Saiki.

“Kusuo, I have a present for you!” said Kusuke, successfully changing the subject (not that a “gift” from Kusuke would be much better than the present conversation). “I have one for you, too, (Y/N)!” He held up envelopes.

Never mind, this is good. Saiki could see the money inside with his x-ray vision.

“Oh, I can’t accept that,” said (Y/N), waving their hands.

Teruhashi glanced between (Y/N) and the envelope. Saiki’s brother prepared a gift for them? That’s very close…

“Well, you are Kusuo’s pa—”

“Pal!” interrupted (Y/N) before Kusuke could blurt out the word “partner.” Embarrassed, they took the enveloped and bowed. “Thank you!”

Close one… (Y/N) and Saiki breathed a sigh of relief.

We need to get out of here, thought Saiki. He tapped (Y/N) on the shoulder and gestured to the door.

They nodded and grabbed their coat—pink with hearts embroidered on the pockets. They headed towards the door, and Saiki pulled on his boots.

“We should invite Kokomi,” whispered (Y/N).

“No,” said Saiki. He wanted a nice moment with (Y/N).

“She and Kusuke with each other is going to be a problem,” pointed out (Y/N).

Saiki hated they were right. “Fine, but then we go out the two of us.”

“Of course,” said (Y/N), kissing Saiki’s cheek before going back to the living room to invite Kokomi.

Saiki let out a little sigh. Oh, wow. He’d never get tired of their affection.

This is the worst-case scenario. Saiki glared ahead of himself as Kusuke walked through the crowd with them.

Why is his brother tagging along? Teruhashi had deflated. With (Y/N) at least that was a friend and she could still have a moment with Saiki—Not happening—but with Kusuke, that was going to be weird.

I should have known Kusuke would tag along, thought (Y/N). The genius had known what would annoy Saiki.

I need to get out of here with (Y/N), decided Saiki. Risking Teruhashi and Kusuke interacting was fine—he was too tired to care.

“By the way, do you have a crush on Kusuo?” said Kusuke, turning around with an “innocent” smile. He looked directly at Teruhashi.

Her face promptly turned several shades of red, and she coughed. “You shouldn’t embarrass Saiki like that!” she said nervously. “And we’re just friends! It’s nothing more!”

“Oh, good,” said Kusuke.

He knows she’s lying. (Y/N) and Saiki exchanged a worried glance.

I knew I wouldn’t like him, thought Teruhashi.

“I mean, you obviously don’t have anything in common,” said Kusuke, still with that “innocent” smile. “You’re different as night and day.”

“What?” said Teruhashi. “Saiki and I have plenty—”

“What are you saying?” Kusuke’s smile had dropped, and he looked at her coldly.

“What?” said Teruhashi.

“I can see through you. You’re not worthy of Kusuo,” said Kusuke.

Teruhashi froze. No one had ever spoken to her like that.

“You thought you could fool me?” said Kusuke. “Well, it’s to be expected. You probably have been pampered your whole life because of your looks. But Kusuo is on a different level.”

“Hey!” said (Y/N), glaring at him. “Leave Kokomi alone!” Even if they knew Teruhashi didn’t have a chance with Saiki, Kusuke was just being mean.

I realize now why I don’t like this guy, thought Teruhashi, staring at Kusuke with wide, shocked eyes. He hasn’t gasped even once since meeting me. There’s never been anyone who wasn’t interested in me.

“Come on, Kokomi. Let’s leave this jerk,” said (Y/N), taking Teruhashi’s hand. Kusuke had been unnecessarily cruel, and (Y/N) wasn’t going to stand around while their friend was hurt.

“Don’t look at me like that, Kusuo,” said Kusuke as Saiki glared. “I was just teasing her. We both know only one person is worthy of you, and that’s because they aren’t shallow and have some real spirit! They stand up to everyone! That’s some real power against a monster like you.”

Saiki ignored the insults directed at him and the compliments towards (Y/N). (He wasn’t sure whether to be pleased that his entire family liked (Y/N) or irritated that even his annoying brother liked them).

“Kokomi?” said (Y/N), gazing at their friend in worry. They still held her hand.

I’ve never felt such shame. I won’t forgive him! declared Teruhashi. She sniffled, and a tear fell. “I—I never meant to—”

“Sorry, I know you’re a talented actress, too,” said Kusuke, looking past the crying. But everyone else was glaring at him as the crowd noticed the perfect pretty girl crying. “What’s going on? These people are surrounding us.”

“They’re surrounding you. Not us,” said Saiki, taking (Y/N)’s hand and pulling them back as the crowd advanced on Kusuke.

My secret pretty girl technique, Angel Tears! thought Teruhashi.

“Who do you think you are?!” shouted the crowd. “You made Teruhashi cry!” They rushed Kusuke.

“Are these all her boyfriends?” he remarked.

“We’ll bash your head in!” cried the crowd.

“Kusuo? (Y/N)?” Kusuke sweat-dropped and looked at them.

“What do you want us to do?” said Saiki, deadpan.

“Get him!” The crowd jumped onto Kusuke.

“Wow, he was defeated by Kokomi,” said (Y/N), impressed.

“And there’s a perfect distraction.” Saiki pulled (Y/N) through the crowd as Teruhashi watched her “hard work” proudly.

“Shouldn’t we be worried about Kusuke?” said (Y/N), looking back at the crowd.

“He’ll be fine. He always has a plan,” said Saiki.

“Fair enough,” chuckled (Y/N). “And he does deserve a little bit of fear for being so mean.”

Saiki smirked. He agreed. And, now, as he pulled (Y/N) far away from Teruhashi and her fans, he could really enjoy the New Year Festival. With (Y/N) and only (Y/N).

“We should go on the Ferris Wheel,” said (Y/N) excitedly, squeezing his hand.

“Okay.” Anything they wanted, they were getting.

And so, he let them lead him to the line and watched them grin out the window of the compartment all the way to the top. (Y/N) smiled as they saw the city spread out before them, all the people small and faraway.

“So pretty,” they said, smiling.

“Very,” agreed Saiki. But he wasn’t looking at the view. No, he was looking at the smile on (Y/N)’s face. And, unable to help himself—why would he when they looked so handsome in the golden light of the sun—he leaned and kissed their cheek.

(Y/N)’s cheeks warmed, they turned towards him, and, before he could pull back, (Y/N) kissed him. Saiki happily kissed back.

A perfect New Years.

What could be better than this?

“We have a problem,” said Saiki as the lunch bell rang.

“Huh?” said (Y/N). “Are you alright?”

“Rifuta is going to try to confess to me,” said Saiki.

“Uh-oh,” said (Y/N). They had forgotten about Rifuta developing a crush on Saiki (though they also knew that Rifuta 100% also had a crush on Teruhashi and was a bit confused).

“Let’s leave to eat lunch before she gets here,” said Saiki.

“Got it,” said (Y/N), grabbing their bento box and following Saiki out. They took the long way around the school and headed to the yard. There were too many people around for Rifuta to confess, so that was good.

“I’ve been using my telepathy to give her dreams so that she hates me, but it’s not working,” said Saiki.

“She and Kokomi are very single-minded,” said (Y/N). They paused. “But I think that Rifuta is just a bit confused. Maybe if you get her to realize she’s head-over-heels for Kokomi more than she is for you, that’ll help?”

“…She’d hate me for Teruhashi liking me, and then my reputation would be ruined,” said Saiki.

“Fair point.” (Y/N) winced. They’d seen Kusuke get dragged away by people who were angry that Teruhashi was upset, and they didn’t want to see what would happen to Saiki if he upset Rifuta—it wouldn’t be as bad as upsetting Teruhashi, but it wasn’t preferable. “So what do we do?”

“I don’t know,” said Saiki.

“…What if we acted closer?” said (Y/N).

Saiki looked at them. “What?”

“If Rifuta thinks you’re dating someone, she’ll back off. She’s just competing with Teruhashi, not really interested in you, so it could help,” said (Y/N). They waved their hands. “I-It doesn’t have to be me so it’s not obvious we’re really dating, we can get Miko or something, but it’s just an idea—”

“Let’s do it.” Saiki was desperate to get Rifuta off his back, and maybe being unavailable would explain his “unbelievable” disinterest in Rifuta.

“Okay, I’ll text Miko—”

“No, you and me.”

“Are you sure? If she really believes we’re dating, that’s another person finding out,” said (Y/N). “And it could get out that we’re dating—”

“If it does, it does. It has to happen at some point,” said Saiki.

The blowback from Teruhashi and the craziness of people finding out would be troublesome, but if it meant just being himself with (Y/N), in public, then he was fine with it. (Y/N) and Saiki both knew their relationship as their business and no one else’s, but they supposed it would have to happen at some point.

Plus, this could begin to get the idea of them dating into people’s heads so when it finally came out it made a sense. It eased people into it so they didn’t freak. (Honestly, it was fairly obvious to the audience that they liked one another, so why wouldn’t it be for people in the story?)

“Okay,” said (Y/N). “Then we’ll act affectionate to get Rifuta to realize you’re not interested for a real reason.”

Saiki nodded.

(Y/N) counted to ten as Saiki entered the lobby of the school to get his shoes. Rifuta was waiting for him, and he had walked right by her. Now it was their turn. They were a little giddy at the idea of being affectionate with Saiki in public. They weren’t a huge PDA person, and they didn’t care about people knowing they were dating—they didn’t act much differently than they had before except for being sweeter and kissing—but this was still fun.

Alright. Here we go.

“Kusuo!” (Y/N) smiled as they rounded the corner and walked up to Saiki. They took his hand. “Are you ready to go out?” They leaned in, their head on his shoulder.

“What?” Rifuta couldn’t help but speak aloud as she stared at the sight. He’s got a partner?! Really? No way!

“I am,” said Saiki, brushing their hair from their face affectionately. “Let’s go.”

“Saiki! Is that your partner?” said Rifuta, getting right to it. Her hands were on her hips as she looked between the pair.

Didn’t expect her to be so direct. I guess someone else is really finding out today.

“I am,” said (Y/N), smiling.

“Your Teruhashi’s friend and are dating him?” said Rifuta, hands on her hips.

“Hm? What does Teruhashi have to do with who’s dating him?” said (Y/N), tilting their head in “confusion.”

They don’t know Teruhashi likes him?! Oh, no! How will Teruhashi feel?!

Saiki heard Rifuta’s thoughts and blinked. (Y/N)’s analysis of a suppressed crush on Teruhashi was correct.

“W-Well, uh, doesn’t your friend know?” said Rifuta, trying to cover.

“I think relationships are very private. Don’t you?” said (Y/N), smiling and friendly as ever.

“I, uh, I guess—” Rifuta was growing confused by her worry for Teruhashi and how to react to (Y/N) still being sweet as usual. No thoughts of liking Saiki herself came to her mind—Saiki was pleased by that. I don’t feel jealousy, hate, or anything. Weird. I’m just confused. I guess I don’t like him after all?

Looks like it went well, thought Saiki.

But then why do I still feel so upset? Why does my stomach hurt? Why do I keep thinking about how Teruhashi will react to this? thought Rifuta.

“Uh, oh, Kusuo, Kokomi’s coming,” said (Y/N), seeing a glow appearing at the end of the hall. “I don’t think we can risk her finding out.” Her crush was still so steady that the blowback to their friendship would be horrendous.

Oh, no! Teruhashi is coming! She’ll see them together! I have to do something!

What?

Rifuta shoved (Y/N) and Saiki forward, and they stumbled into the storage closet. She slammed it closed behind them and stood in front.

…Huh?

I did not see that coming.

“Oh, Imu!” said Teruhashi, spotting her friend. “Long time no see.”

“Y-Yes,” said Rifuta, growing nervous.

“What’s was that?” whispered (Y/N), looking at Saiki.

“I don’t know.” He supported himself by his arms, but they were still incredibly close in the cramped closet. “Ask the girl who shoved us in here.”

“Are you on your way home?” said Teruhashi, smiling.

“Yes, I’ll be leaving soon, too,” said Rifuta. Why did I cover for them? Because she would be sad if she saw?

“Let’s go home together!” Teruhashi grinned and linked her arm with Rifuta’s.

Rifuta blushed, and her heart pounded. She’s so close! Wow! Shaking her head, she pulled away. No, no way! If you think everything is fine, you’re mistaken! She steeled herself and looked at Teruhashi. “Do you like Saiki, Teruhashi?” If she admits she likes him, I’ll open the door and show her! I’ll make you cry your eyes out!

Saiki and (Y/N)’s eyes widened. If they were found like this and their relationship came out—Oh, boy. Teruhashi would be upset, and they’d be hunted down for the rest of their days.

Nervously, Teruhashi blushed. “Y-yes. I’ve never really liked a boy before, so I’m not sure, but I think I do.”

“Why? Was it love at first sight?” said Rifuta.

“No. I was the opposite,” said Teruhashi. “At first, I didn’t like how he was never attracted to me. I was so angry with him that I couldn’t stop thinking about him.”

I see. I get it now, thought Rifuta.

I knew it was the idea of someone not treating her as a pretty thing to look at, thought (Y/N). Teruhashi needed to be valued as more than her looks, and Saiki was the first person to look at her without paying attention to her appearance, which was attractive to her.

Teruhashi! I love you! Rifuta hugged Teruhashi suddenly.

“Not what I expected,” murmured Saiki.

“Huh?” said (Y/N).

“She loves Teruhashi,” said Saiki. “You were right.”

I’ll never beat her beauty and kindness! Rifuta held Teruhashi close.

“What’s going on, Imu?” asked Teruhashi, confused.

I’m so hopeless! I love her! Rifuta smiled with a wide smile.

“I knew it,” asid (Y/N), smiling.

“What’s the matter?” asked Teruhashi.

I felt such anger because Saiki didn’t choose Teruhashi, but now I’m so relieved you weren’t taken from me. “I’m rooting for you!” said Rifuta. Even if she was lying a bit, she wanted Teruhashi to be in a fulfilling relationship. “I want you to be happy!”

“What’s gotten into you?” asked Teruhashi, worried at the sudden change in attitude.

“This is so much worse,” said Saiki.

“It’s nothing. Let’s go home together,” said Rifuta.

“She’s going to help Teruhashi,” groaned Saiki as Rifuta and Teruhashi walked away from the closet.

“Uh-oh. I guess this backfired a bit?” said (Y/N), wincing. “Sorry. It was my idea.”

Saiki shook his head. “It’s fine. Rifuta just had a realization. It had to happen at some point.”

“Who else would be someone’s gay awakening?” laughed (Y/N) slightly. They reached for the door handle. “At least we can leave now and one less person has a crush on you. And we didn’t get found in here. That would have been a scandal.”

“Scandalous, huh?” Saiki smirked slightly.

(Y/N) looked at his expression. “Uh, Kusuo? You alright?”

Saiki leaned in and kissed them. (Y/N) was surprised but kissed back—they weren’t saying no to a kiss from Saiki. One of his hands supporting himself went to their waist and pulled them closer. (Y/N)’s felt the pressure and smiled into the kiss. Their hands rose and tangled into his hair as he kissed them.

When the passionate kiss ended, Saiki leaned his forehead against theirs. “That is scandalous.”

(Y/N) looked at him, breathless. “When did you become a flirt?”

Saiki just smiled, leaned back in, and kissed them.

“We—” kiss “—have—” kiss “—to—” kiss “—go—” kiss “—home—” (Y/N) spoke between kisses.

Effortlessly, Saiki teleported them and their belongings back to his house, all the while continuing to kiss them. “There. Let me kiss you.”

(Y/N) laughed, pulled him in, and kissed him.

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#a not so disastrous romance #x reader #gn reader #nb reader #x gn reader #x nb reader #the disaster of psi kusuo saiki #saiki kusou no psi nan #saiki kusuo #saiki #kusuo saiki #saiki x reader #saiki no psi nan #saiki kusuo x reader #kusuo x reader #the disastrous life of saiki k.#the disastrous life of saiki k #tdlosk

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capquinn · 2 days ago

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No because I feel like he would be the best parent when it comes to calming down their child if they’re overstimulated or not in a good mood 🤧

STOP he so would. Just imagining him with Bug, she’s three and full of all these big emotions that her tiny body can’t work out just yet. She’ll be in full meltdown mode — fists clenched, little cheeks flushed, and tears streaming down her face. And he just… scoops her up, calm and steady, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

He always starts with that low voice, barely a whisper, saying, “Hey, hey, it’s okay… just breathe, Bug. Daddy’s got you.” Then he’s rocking her, rubbing these slow circles on her back, every move gentle. It’s like his whole presence just says, “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

And the best part? He never tries to rush her. He’ll just sit there with her curled up on his lap, patiently brushing her hair back from her face, totally unfazed, until she starts to settle. It doesn’t matter if it takes five minutes or an hour — he’s all in, like being there for her is his only job. Sometimes he’ll pull out her favourite book or start humming that soft tune she loves, and, slowly, she just melts against him, her breathing slowing to match his.

By the end of it, she’s completely calm, looking up at him with those big, trusting eyes, and he’s giving her that soft, proud smile that says he’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. And there you are, just watching the whole thing, wondering how you got so lucky to have him as her dad. He’s her safe place — and every time you see it, you fall in love with him all over again.

#need quinn to hold me and talk me through a menty b fr LOL #capquinnchats #dad!quinn #quinn hughes

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gabgabwrites · 16 hours ago

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MOTHER F*CKER | Patrick Zweig

summary ⇝ Patrick is a local mechanic, and when you come it to get your car checked, he’s in love, but when your little baby girl comes into the frame, Patrick can safely say you’re one hot MILF!

warnings ⇝ language, smut! p in v, unprotected sex, breeding kink (well duh), daddy kink if you squint, RUSHED ENDING, it’s actually a little cutesy fanfic. mdni

sorry it’s like my shortest fic 🙁

based off this request here!

Patrick is working as a mechanic, and one day you bring your car in because it's been making these weird sounds.

And when you climbed out the vehicle, Patrick thinks you're hot. You're maybe a little bit younger than him but by good heavens he thinks you're in your prime, and when he sees your little girl climb out the car, interested in looking around the shop in childlike wonder, he almost groans.

You must be taken, a mother who's probably married and is that gorgeous? Yep.

He smiles, wiping the grease off his hands and onto the old towel around his neck before approaching you both. "Hey, ladies. What brings you in?" He asks with a kind smile, glancing between the two of you.

You blink up at him and smile, your hand holding your daughters. "Hi, I came in because my car is making funny sounds. I know it's an old car but not that old. Is it fine if you have a look or do I need to book an appointment or...?"

He nods, holding back a little smirk at the sight of you holding your daughter's hand. "Yeah, I could have a look. There might be a bit of a wait though, if you're cool with that." He glances down at your little girl who seems to be distracted by an old car parked off to the side.

You nod. "No, it's fine. Hazel and I will go wait outside." You shrugged, looking down at your carbon copy.

He nods and watches you walk out, keeping his eyes trained on your figure as you go. Once you're through the doors, he turns his attention away from the entrance and over to the car you just brought in, popping the hood and beginning the inspection.

As he works away at your car, he finds himself stealing glances every now and then through the garage doors as your little girl runs around the parking lot.

Watching her make daisy chains out of the weeds while you look over old cars, he can't help but think you're even more beautiful in the natural lighting.

After about 45 minutes, Patrick wipes off the last of the grease and closes the hood. Before heading to the entrance to find you, he takes a deep breath and tries to compose himself a little bit. His eyes stay on the parking lot, keeping watch for you and your daughter.

He finally spots you sitting on the curb, your daughter settled into your lap sound asleep as you quietly hum a tune, running your fingers through her hair. He stood there a few feet away, debating whether he should interrupt you or not.

After a few beats of contemplation, he figures he should go and get you. He starts with a few quiet steps towards you before making enough noise to get your attention.

You look up and smile at him. "Finished?"

He smiles back, nodding as he stops in front of you. "Mhm. You've got a loose alternator cable. And as for the sound, it seems like the problem is with your exhaust."

You frown. "Oh, how long will that take to get fixed?"

He runs a hand over his chin, "If I order the part, it should only take a couple days, hopefully. Do you have a way to get around in the meantime?" He asks, his eyes trained on your sleeping daughter in your arms.

You nibble on your bottom lip. "I can call my sister."

He lets out a soft chuckle, "Or I can give you and your little one a ride home. It looks like you've got your hands full there." He says, nodding towards the girl asleep on your lap.

You glance down at her then back up at him. You didn't really have much of a choice, and he seemed friendly enough.

If need be, you did carry a taser in your bag. "Yes, please? That would be great."

He smiles, the corner of his eyes crinkling just a little bit with it. "Alright. 'll help you to the car." He says, offering his hand to help you up.

You happily took it, feeling his calluses scrape your fingers. He helped you up, his hand slipping away as to not linger too much. He starts a slow pace away from the garage, looking back every few seconds to make sure you're following him.

After passing through the main doors to the lot, he leads you over to a large black pickup truck. Opening the passenger door, he gestures for you to get in, his eyes focused on you.

Once you're settled in, he closes the door behind you. He circles around to the driver's side, keeping an eye on you and your daughter through the windshield as he climbs into the vehicle.

You decide if you should tell this man your address, then again if someone breaks in, you know the name of the company he works at, so you tell him.

He nods, repeating it quietly after you before starting the car. He glances over at your daughter again. "So, how old is she?"

"She just turned two in September." You tell him, with a small smile

He hums quietly, a small smile forming on his own lips. "She's a cutie, got her mama's looks." He says as he begins the drive to your address.

You couldn't help the small chuckle that left your lips. "That she is."

The car falls into a comfortable silence as the drive continues. He watches the road as he drives, stealing the occasional glance at you from out the corner of his eye.

After not too long, he pulls up in front of your house, looking out through the windshield at the small and cozy home.

"Are we here?" He asks, cutting the engine before turning to glance at you again.

You nod. "Yes, thank you so much."

He smiles, unbuckling his seatbelt. "It's no problem." He says, opening the car door and climbing out. He circles around to your side, opening up your door before holding out his hand to help you and your sleeping little girl out.

Once all three of you have exited the car, he closes the passenger door before facing you again. He can't help but be drawn to how soft you look, a warm and content smile on your lips as you hold your sleeping daughter tightly in your arms. Patrick clears his throat. "So, uh, you should tell your husband about your car, wouldn't want him worried, right?"

You blink a couple times, a little startled before you realize what he's insinuating. "Oh," you murmur, a small laugh slipping past your lips. "I actually don't have a husband." You say with a small smile.

He blinks at your confession, the realization slowly settling in. "Oh, really?" He asks, his hand moving up to idly rub the back of his neck. His heart seems to skip a beat when he considers the implications of that sentence.

You nod again. "Yeah, didn't work out, but at least he still tries to look after our daughter."

He nods as he listens, his heart beating a little faster at the knowledge that not only are you absolutely stunning, beautiful, and gorgeous, you're also single. He can faintly feel a blush beginning to travel across his cheeks so he looks away for a second, taking a deep breath to compose himself.

Patrick cleared his throat again, his hand still rubbing the back of his neck as he looks back at you. "You make for an amazing mom though, considering your little girl seems as sweet as they come."

"Thank you, I do try."

He smiles again, his eyes roaming over your figure one more time before nodding towards your front door. "Well, I better let you get inside before it gets late. It was a pleasure meeting you."

You nod. "You too, I'll be back at the shop in a week? It was about a week you said, right? If not, uh, I’ll give you my cell for you to phone when my cars finished."

He nods, feeling a little disappointed to have to wait for you to return to the shop but he doesn't show it, instead continuing to give you a friendly smile.

"Yeah, it'll probably take about a week for the part to get here. Here, let me get my phone. Gimme a sec..." He said, taking a few steps back before digging into the pocket of his jeans and pulling out his phone. He walks back over to you. "Here, just put your number in there, l'll give you a call when the cars done."

You shift your daughter to your one hip while reaching for his phone with your now free hand

He hands it over, watching as you begin to type into his phone with a small smile on his lips. His eyes flit between your own and your little one, who's still fast asleep against your shoulder.

"All done." You smile, handing him back his phone.

He takes it back from you, holding it for a few beats too long before he pockets it again. He can't help but feel a little breathless at your smile, his heart racing a little faster than it should. "Uh, I guess I'll see you in a week then."

And he does. Patrick also was sly, so while he fixed the more serious parts of your car, he'd lightly mess up another, just enough to have you concerned but nothing major, only to see you again in his shop (he charged you 30% of what other customers had to just because of his other alterations)

You start to notice the increase of issues with your car every few months and have to make the frequent trips back to the shop. But the thing that changes is the way the handsome mechanic, Patrick, seems to behave around you. He's a little more sly, a little more cocky and a little more flirty as time goes on. You can't help but notice the change.

And so it was no wonder when you began to get flustered around him, drawn to his flirty remarks and lingering touches.

The way you'd react to his flirting only feeds his ego, driving him a little more wild and crazy each time. The way you'd blush and stutter, trying to keep your cool would only make him want to push your buttons more, to have you flustered and squirming for him.

Eventually, you two started seeing each other, he'd take you on little dates while your sister baby sat, or the three of you would do something altogether.

As your relationship with Patrick grows, he's more and more drawn in by you. He loves spending time with you but seeing vou interact with Hazel and vice versa, seeing how you are as a mother makes him want you in a whole other way.

Was it too quick for Patrick to want to put a ring on your finger? Yes. But you two weren't getting younger.

He knew he was moving a little fast but he can't help it. You make him crazy, make him want things he hasn't dared to think about for too long while staring at your lips, your neck, your wrists... he was gonna marry you if it was the last thing he ever did.

He eventually moved in (bills were equally split). He's living in your home, sharing your bed, your shower, your kitchen. And he could honestly say he's never been so happy. He's got a beautiful fiancé who's also the most caring, perfect woman he's ever met. It almost makes his life perfect.

Almost.

Except now he needs to claim you. Mark you as his. So it's no wonder when he has you on all fours, arched back and sobbing while you're taking his cock, relentlessly bullying your cunt. "Shh-h-h, ma. Don't wanna wake Hazel up, do you?" He asks, pulling at your hair and feeling you clamp around him.

Your little girl is asleep in the other room, and Patrick knows you're trying your hardest to keep quiet so as not to disturb her. But he doesn't want to make it easy for you. He grips your hip a little tighter with one hand while the other starts moving along your back, feeling every inch of your skin under his fingers.

His pace picks up, his eyes never leaving your body as his gaze travels over your arching figure. "You sound so good, ma. Trying really hard to keep that pretty mouth of yours quiet while I breed this cunt. Gonna knock you up nice. Don't you wanna make me a daddy?"

The mention of getting you pregnant has your stomach in knots. You can't help but whimper, your brain trying to come up with a coherent answer. "Y-Yes! Wanna to make you a daddy real bad."

His hand moves down your body, resting on the soft flesh of your stomach. "Yeah, ma? You want me to fill you up? Get you pregnant with our baby?" He asks, his voice a little rougher than before.

You moan, feeling your heart and pussy flutter. "Fuck, yes. Need to...to..."

"Need to what? Need to take my cum in your sweet, needy little hole? Need to have me fill you up until you're leaking? Want me to breed you real good? I'll do it. I'm gonna fill you up so good, you'd never forget who your daddy is."

Your heart hammers against your chest, his words making a knot tighten in your gut as a shiver runs up your spine. "Yes, please, need you to, want you to fill me up!"

"Want to have my baby?" He asks, giving your hips a light little smack. "Want me to knock you up nice and good?" You could only nod, feeling your lower belly stir. Feeling you nod eagerly has him groaning quietly. "You're gonna look so damn pretty pregnant, ma." He growls, his fingers gripping you a bit tighter like he was holding onto you for dear life.

You could feel his hips stutter.

"Gonna be so sweet on you, ma. I'll spoil you so damn much. My sweet little wife, all filled up with my baby. I...oh." He moans, his pace becoming a bit less steady as his fingers flex on your hips.

You felt him spill inside you, never feeling as full as you did. That feeling alone pushed you to your own orgasm.

Patrick held you against him while you trembled through your own release, his eyes watching your body shaking under his touch. His breath felt heavy, his own heartbeat a little too fast as he watched you. His hand slid up your back, coming to a rest between your shoulder blades before his lips made contact with your skin, leaving a soft kiss there. "Think it worked?" He asks quietly.

"There's only one way to find out..." You said through a grin, voice breathless.

He lets out a small chuckle, his lips moving over to your neck. "Guess we'll have to try and try again until it does." He murmurs before nipping your skin gently.

You anchored yourself into the bed, preparing for a long night ahead of you when a high-pitched voice called out for you.

"Mama!"

Just a few words was all it took to have reality setting in. The two of you freeze, your heart beating a little faster as the realization of what you were doing just a moment ago dawns on you. Patrick slowly pulls back, sitting up and away from you on the bed, his eyes glancing at the door.

"Well, duty calls." You mumble, standing up on wobbly legs to grab your gown and wrapping it around yourself.

He watches you get up after a few beats, admiring the sight of you in your gown before he slowly gets up himself, grabbing the pair of boxers he laid on the bed only a few hours before. Once you're both decent, he opens the door for you so you can go to your daughter.

Hazel's in her bed, her big eyes staring up at the ceiling and her tiny hands grasping a handful of her blanket. She turns her head towards you when she hears you walk in. "Mama? Thirsty."

You felt your bottom eyelid twitch, but nonetheless you smiled. "Okay, baby. I'll go get you some water."

She gave you a small nod and a sleepy smile while you made a mental note to remind her that she's not supposed to get out of bed whenever she's thirsty.

You were about to exit the room when you heard her tiny voice once more.

"Mama?" You turned back around to her. She looked at you with those big, innocent eyes of hers. "Read me a story, please?" She asks quietly.

You let out a soft sigh. "Okay, my angel. I'll go get you water while you pick out a book."

Her face immediately lights up at your answer, a smile stretching across her lips and revealing her missing two front teeth. "Okay!" She eagerly responds before crawling over to dig through the pile of books on the floor next to her bed.

You can't help but shake your head at her eagerness to always have a bedtime story as you leave her room and close the door behind you. Once you're in the hallway, you glance towards the bedroom you and Patrick share, and find him sitting on the bed, a bemused look on his face.

"Wait until it's your own child calling for their dad." You told him with a pointed look before turning and disappearing to the kitchen.

Patrick just lets out a quiet chuckle, he can't wait for that day to come. He grins to himself as he leans back against the pillows behind him, his mind filled with the idea of a miniature version of you or him or both calling him 'Dad'.

The thought alone has his heart clenching a little.

#gabgabwrites #my works ✎#x reader #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x you #patrick zweig smut #patrick zweig x reader #challengers patrick #josh o'connor #josh o connor x reader

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velvetsupremacy · 2 days ago

Text

In My Head (Part 1)

Pairing: Irene x FEM Reader

Summary: In which Joohyun is a popular cheerleader majoring in psychology and you’re a hopeless gay who reports on Joohyun’s boyfriend’s, Minho, soccer season and you’re paired together for a class project.

Word Count: 8.9k words

Warning: Alcohol use but very brief, no smut

So sorry for the delay but here's part 1, part 2 (final part) coming soon!!

The start of junior year felt like the beginning of something big for you. You practically skipped across the campus lawn, camera bag bouncing against your hip as you soaked in the buzz of excitement that hung in the air. It wasn’t just about covering the men’s soccer team for the college news station, even though the team was expected to go all the way to the championship this year. No, it was the possibility of seeing her again - Joohyun.

“Look at you, all perked up,” Yerim teased, pulling her sunglasses down. “Excited about watching a bunch of dudes sweat it out on a field?”

“Hey, it’s for the story,” you said, pretending to sound professional but failing miserably as you grinned ear to ear. “We need a good story to start the year, and this team’s perfect for that.”

Yerim arched an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “Uh-huh. And the fact that Joohyun will be bouncing around in a skirt has nothing to do with your sudden love for sports?”

You nearly tripped over your own feet. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” Yerim shot back, her smirk widening. “Just don’t drool on your camera lens.”

Yerim had a point, though. You had met her in a media law class last year, bonding over your shared major and mutual love for Ariana Grande. Since then, you'd become close friends, sharing everything from class notes to hangover remedies. Yerim had a knack for reading you like an open book, which was both a blessing and a curse.

You both reached the field, and your breath caught in your throat as your gaze zeroed in on the cheerleaders warming up on the sidelines.

Your eyes found Joohyun almost immediately, as if drawn to her like a moth to a very, very hot flame. Joohyun, with her long, silky brunette hair that looked like it belonged in a shampoo commercial, was impossible to miss. Her hair cascaded down her back in waves, catching the sunlight with every effortless toss of her head. She was short - barely 5’3”- but every inch of her was perfectly proportioned, from her slightly toned legs that peeked out from under her cheer skirt to the soft, delicate features of her face. Joohyun looked like she’d stepped out of a dream, all elegance and confidence wrapped in a cheer uniform that somehow made her both sweet and dangerously alluring at the same time.

She twirled a pom-pom, laughing at something one of her teammates said, and for a moment, you forgot how to function.

Bae Joohyun wasn’t just a cheerleader. She was practically campus royalty. A psychology major with plans to go to law school, Joohyun had a reputation for being not only drop-dead gorgeous but also frighteningly smart. She had a soothing voice that made her a favorite at the college radio station where she hosted a show once a week and probably had a fan club just for the way she said, “Good morning.”

For you, the crush had started last year in the most cliché way possible. You’d been covering a student rally, trying to capture the perfect shot of the crowd, when Joohyun had stepped up to the microphone. The crowd had quieted instantly, hanging on her every word. You focused on getting the perfect shot, but when you looked up through the lens and saw Joohyun’s face, something had clicked.

There was a passion in Joohyun’s voice, a fire that matched the intensity of her gaze. She had spoken about the importance of mental health with a conviction that was impossible to ignore. It wasn’t just that Joohyun was beautiful—though she definitely was. It was that she seemed to care so deeply, to be so fully herself, that it drew you in like nothing else had.

Since then, you’d found herself “accidentally” ending up anywhere Joohyun might be, even if it was just to catch a glimpse from afar.

“Why don’t you just ask her out?” Yerim said, snapping a picture of the team’s star player, Choi Minho, as he jogged onto the field. “You’ve been swooning over her for, what, months now?”

“Not gonna happen,” you denied vehemently, shaking your head. “Not while she’s with Minho, and not unless I know for sure she even likes girls. Plus, someone like her going for someone like me? Yeah, right.”

Yerim snorted. “You say that like you’re not a catch. Besides, I’ve seen the way she looks at you when she thinks no one’s watching.”

“Yeah, like I’m the weird girl with the camera who’s always lurking in the background,” you chuckled.

“Or maybe like she’s trying not to blush every time you’re within a hundred feet,” Yerim retorted.

You would like to believe Yerim, but the idea of Joohyun returning your feelings felt about as likely as you becoming a professional soccer player overnight. Still, you couldn’t deny the way your heart sped up at the thought.

“Focus,” you whispered to yourself, zooming in on Minho as he made a perfect pass. But your mind wandered back to that rally last year. Joohyun had been captivating then, and she was just as captivating now. The crush that had started in that moment had only grown, fed by every little thing you had learned about her since.

“Hey,” Yerim snapped her fingers in front of your face. “Practice is wrapping up. Let’s go get those interviews before you lose your mind.”

“Right,” you said, lowering the camera. You had a job to do—a story to tell. But as you headed toward the team, your gaze lingered on Joohyun for just a moment longer. What was it about her that made your heart do that little flip every time you saw her? It was ridiculous, really. A crush on a girl you could never be with.

And with that thought, you followed Yerim toward the team, ready to get these interviews over with…

As you wrapped up the interview with Minho, he wiped the sweat from his brow and flashed you a charming grin. The guy was a natural during interviews, confident and effortlessly likable. You thanked him for his time, making sure to capture one last shot of him before lowering your camera.

"Good luck this season," you said, trying to sound more professional and less like you’d been daydreaming about his girlfriend half the time. How unprofessional.

"Thanks," Minho replied, flashing a bright smile. "I’ll do my best not to disappoint."

As he turned to jog back to his teammates, you caught movement from the corner of your eye. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw Joohyun walking toward the field. She moved with that same effortless grace, her hair shining under the late afternoon sun and was making a beeline for Minho, tiptoeing adorably to kiss his cheek.

Of course, you thought to yourself, trying not to make a face. They were dating. You knew this. Everyone knew this. Still, knowing it didn’t make the sight any easier to watch.

You couldn’t help but feel a little ridiculous. This wasn’t some romantic drama where a smile meant destiny was at play. No, this was just real life, and in real life, Joohyun didn’t even know your name.

“Come on, let’s head out,” Yerim called from a few feet away, waving her phone in the air. You nodded, following her lead.

As you both made your way off the field, a nagging thought wormed its way into your mind, the one you’d been trying to avoid all week.

Classes were starting next Monday, and with them came the embarrassing reality that you, a junior, would be sitting in Journalism 1 like a freshman.

It wasn’t exactly how you’d pictured your academic journey. You’d planned to take Journalism 1 ages ago, but thanks to a mix-up in your scheduling during your first year, you’d ended up prioritizing other courses. By the time you realized the mistake, all the Journalism 1 sections were full.

So here you were, entering your junior year and still having to take an introductory class. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but the idea of sitting through lectures you probably could have passed two years ago was a little silly.

“Lost in thought again?” Yerim’s voice cut through your thoughts, snapping you back to reality. She gave you a knowing look as you both reached the parking lot. “Let me guess, you’re freaking out about J1 again?”

“Maybe a little,” you admitted with a shrug, trying to downplay it. “It’s just…I don’t know. I should be past all that by now.”

Yerim snorted, adjusting her sunglasses. “You’ll be fine. Besides, who cares? It’s just a class.”

“Yeah, but still,” you sighed. “It’s not exactly ideal.”

Yerim lightly slapped your shoulder, snorting off your concerns. “Don’t worry so much. You already have experience making stories for the school paper and radio. What’s an intro class with Professor Kim anyway? She loves you.”

You cracked a smile, recalling how you earned Professor Kim’s approval in Media Law and Ethics, which were two of the hardest classes within your program. “You’re right. It’s just an intro class.”

“Of course I am,” she said, holding her growling stomach. “Now, let’s go grab some food. I’m starving.”

Monday arrived with an unexpected sense of calm. You strolled across campus, your bag slung over your shoulder and a spring in your step. The weekend had been fun catching up with all your friends, and your first few classes that morning went better than expected.

But now, as you approached the door to Journalism 1, that confidence started to waver. You’d been riding high all day, but the reality of walking into a freshman-heavy class was suddenly weighing on you.

You paused outside the classroom, staring at the door. It was just a class. Just an hour, and then you’d be done for the day.

With a sigh, you pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was already filling up with fresh faces. You scanned the rows of desks, looking for a spot where you could blend in. After a moment, you settled into a seat toward the back, hoping to go unnoticed.

As you pulled out your notebook and laptop, you caught snippets of conversations from the students around you. They were buzzing with excitement about writing for the school paper or getting their hands on some broadcast work. You smiled, remembering the time you had been as eager and wide-eyed.

The door swung open again, and you glanced up out of habit. When you saw who had walked in, your heart skipped a beat - Joohyun.

Your mind immediately went into overdrive. What was she doing here? This was just some intro class. Joohyun was a psych major. Surely she didn’t need to be here too. Yet, there she was, making her way into the room with that grace you admired from afar. She didn’t seem to notice you as she scanned the room for a seat.

You quickly ducked your head, pretending to be engrossed in your notes. The last thing you needed was for Joohyun to catch you staring. As fate would have it, she ended up sitting just a few rows ahead of you. Close enough that you couldn’t help but notice every time she shifted in her seat. Great.

The lecture began as Professor Kim walked in, her presence instantly commanding the room. You’d taken a few classes with her before, so you knew she was the type to keep things moving quickly. After a brief introduction, she jumped right into the syllabus.

“Welcome to Journalism 1,” Professor Kim began, her tone brisk. “I know some of you are here because you’re excited about journalism, some because it’s a requirement, and some because, well, you need the credits.” A few chuckles rippled through the room, and you allowed yourself a small smile.

She went on to explain the course structure—lectures, assignments, workshops—but it was when she reached the partner project that your attention fully snapped back.

“As part of this course, you’ll be working on a partner project,” Professor Kim announced, scanning the room. “This will be an opportunity to apply what you’re learning in a practical way. You’ll be paired in a few weeks, and I expect each team to produce a piece of journalism that could be print, broadcast, or multimedia. This counts as the final of this class so you will have the second half of the semester to work on it.”

You swallowed hard. Partner projects were always a bit of a gamble. It could mean working with someone who’d pull their weight, or it could mean babysitting.

“Now, before anyone panics,” Professor Kim continued with a faint smile, “I want to reassure you that I’m here to help, and so are your classmates. In fact, I see a familiar face in the crowd.” Her eyes landed on you, and you froze.

“Ah, yes, there you are,” Professor Kim said, her smile growing. “I’m sure many of you don’t know this yet, but we have a bit of an expert with us today. She’s done excellent work for the school newspaper and the college news station, and she excelled in my previous classes.” You felt your cheeks flush as several heads turned in your direction. So much for flying under the radar.

“So, if you have questions about storytelling, pitching ideas, or even how to juggle deadlines, don’t hesitate to ask her,” Professor Kim added, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “She’s a great resource.”

You managed a weak smile and a nod, trying to look like you weren’t about to melt into your chair. Inside, though, your nerves were high. Being called out like that was the last thing you’d expected. You’d wanted to blend in, not stand out, especially with Joohyun just a few rows ahead.

The rest of the lecture passed in a blur, your mind racing with a mix of anxiety and curiosity. What if you ended up paired with Joohyun for the project? Like that would happen.

As Professor Kim wrapped up the class and dismissed everyone, you quickly packed up your things, eager to escape. You slung you bag over your shoulder and made a beeline for the door, hoping to avoid any awkward encounters.

But as you stepped into the hallway, you couldn’t help but glance back. Joohyun was still in the classroom, slowly packing her things. She didn’t seem to notice you at all, and for once, you were grateful. You needed time to figure out how you were going to navigate the rest of the semester…

The media center had always been your safe place, the place where you could bury yourself in work and forget about everything else. The familiar hum of activity filled the space as students shuffled between the school newspaper and the college radio station. The faint sound of music from the radio station’s booth mixed with the low murmur of conversations, and you felt your shoulders relax a little as you made your way to your usual spot near the back.

You practically lived here, spending countless hours on projects, hanging out with the news and radio staff. Today was no different, except for one thing, you couldn’t stop thinking about Joohyun showing up in Journalism 1. You were halfway through editing some soundbites for the soccer team’s story when you heard a familiar voice behind you.

“Look who survived!" Yerim’s voice rang out, dripping with playful sarcasm. She plopped down into the chair next to you, leaning back with a satisfied grin. "How was J1 and how does it feel to be Professor Kim’s golden child?"

You groaned, regretting that you texted Yerim everything that happened and ran a hand through your hair. "Don’t remind me. I was trying to hide. Now everyone’s gonna think I’m some know-it-all."

Yerim snickered. "Please. Half those freshmen probably think you’re a TA or something. They’ll be asking you for help with their shit by the end of the week."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but laugh. "Just what I needed. More work."

"So, tell me," Yerim leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "What’s this about Bae Joohyun being in your class? You nearly faint when you saw her?"

"Not quite," you muttered, feeling your cheeks heat up. "But yeah, she’s in J1. No idea why, though."

Yerim raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Seriously? What’s she doing in intro courses? She’s like, Miss Campus Everything."

"That’s what I was wondering," you replied, mindlessly fiddling with a pen. "I didn’t get a chance to ask her, obviously. I figured she’d be in some psych courses, not sitting through the basics of journalism."

Yerim snorted. "Maybe she’s got a secret passion for headline writing. Or she’s just there to watch you squirm."

"Ha ha, very funny," you shot back, though the thought of Joohyun silently judging you made your stomach twist. "I’m just curious, okay? It’s not every day someone like her shows up like that."

Before Yerim could respond, a familiar face appeared in the doorway, Changmin, the station manager. He was juggling a stack of papers and his ever-present coffee mug, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. But despite his appearance, there was a warmth about him that made everyone feel welcome.

"Hey, Changmin!" Yerim called out, waving him over. "You got a minute?"

Changmin ambled over, setting his papers down on the nearest table. "Always got a minute for you two," he said, his voice tinged with that familiar fatherly tone he used whenever he spoke to his "media kids."

He took a sip of his coffee, looking at you both with kind eyes. "What’s on your minds?"

"We were just talking about Joohyun," Yerim said, leaning back in her chair with a grin. "Apparently, she’s in J1 with this one." She pointed at you. "Any idea why she’s slumming it with us peasants?"

Changmin’s eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise, and then he smiled, nodding as if something had clicked into place. "Ah, yes. She mentioned that to me last week when she stopped by the station. She’s minoring in broadcasting, so J1 is a requirement for her."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Broadcasting? Really?"

"Yup," He confirmed. "She’s got big plans, wants to do more on-air work and maybe even take on some anchoring for the morning news. She’s driven and looking to learn as much as she can."

"Wow, I’m down so bad," you groaned, feeling a mix of awe and admiration. What couldn’t this woman do?

Yerim patted your back, though you could hear the laughter in her voice. "Chill. You’re gonna be just fine. If anything, this is your chance to impress her with your charm and expertise. Who knows? Maybe you’ll end up partners for that J1 project."

"Yeah, right," you muttered, though the idea made your heart race. “Knowing my luck, I’ll get paired with someone who doesn’t even show up to class.”

Changmin shook his head with a smile, gathering up his papers from the table. "Good luck with that. And hey, if you do end up working with her on that project, just be yourself. You’ve got plenty of experience to share, and she’s smart enough to appreciate that."

You felt a bit of the tension in your chest ease. Changmin had a way of making everything seem okay, like you could handle whatever came your way. "Thanks, Changmin. That… actually helps a lot."

“Anytime,” he smiled warmly, “Just remember - you’re here because you love what you do, and that passion is going to carry you through, no matter who’s in the class with you."

With that, he gave you both a reassuring nod and headed out the door, leaving you feeling more grounded than you had all day.

Yerim turned back to you, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "So, what’s the game plan now? You gonna impress her with your skills?"

"Or," you said, raising an eyebrow, "I could just try not to trip over my own feet in front of her."

"Where’s the fun in that?" Yerim teased. "But seriously, this could be your chance to show her what you’re made of."

You couldn’t help but laugh, despite the butterflies in your stomach. "We’ll see. I’m not even sure if she’s into girls like that. For now, I’m just gonna take it one class at a time."

Yerim grinned, giving you a mock salute. "That’s the spirit. And hey, if you need any tips on charming her, I’m always here."

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the soccer field. The air buzzed with anticipation as the men’s soccer team warmed up for their first game of the season against a visiting school. You were stationed near the sidelines, camera in hand, ready to capture the action for the upcoming story you were working on. This game would be a key piece of the puzzle, the team’s first real test of the season.

You adjusted your lens, focusing on Minho as he led the team through drills, his every move sharp and precise, though his gaze drifted to the stands every so often, like his mind was somewhere else. The team was hyped for the season, with high expectations from everyone around them. But your attention wasn’t fully on Minho or the players. No, your thoughts kept drifting back to Joohyun.

Ever since you found out she was in Journalism 1, you couldn’t stop wondering about her. And now, here you were again, on the same field where you’d seen her just last week, except this time, you knew a little more about her goals and ambitions. Broadcasting. It made perfect sense, really.

"Hey," Yerim’s voice broke through your thoughts as she appeared by your side, her usual teasing grin in place. "You’re not drooling over Minho, are you? Because that would make things even weirder."

You smirked, rolling your eyes. "As if. I’m just trying to get the perfect shot."

"Uh-huh," Yerim said, jokingly denying your response. She nudged you playfully with her elbow. "So, what’s the deal? Are you gonna make a move on Joohyun? Or are you still playing the long game?"

"I’m not playing anything," you sighed, adjusting your camera to focus on another player. "She has a boyfriend, and I’m not exactly keen on being a homewrecker."

"Well, you know what they say," Yerim wiggled her brows, leaning against the fence. "Never let your boyfriend get in the way of you finding your wife. Maybe you’ll get partnered up for the big project and bond over broadcasting."

You snorted. "Or I’ll just end up partnered with some random person."

"Optimism isn’t your strong suit, is it?" Yerim clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "You never know. Stranger things have happened."

Just then, the sound of laughter caught your attention. You glanced up from your camera and, unsurprisingly, saw Joohyun walking onto the field with the other cheerleaders. They were here to support the team, of course, and Joohyun looked as perfect as ever. Her hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and she wore the red and white cheer uniform that seemed to hug her body so well.

Your heart did that annoying fluttery thing it always seemed to do whenever she was around, and you cursed yourself for it. This was getting sad.

Yerim followed your gaze, her grin widening. "Speak of the devil," she said, her tone practically singing. "Maybe she’ll come over here. Give you a chance to work that journalistic charm."

"Sure," you muttered, trying to refocus on the task at hand. "She’s here with her team to support the guys, duh."

But as fate would have it, Joohyun’s path did seem to be leading her closer to where you stood. She waved at a few friends as she made her way toward the sidelines, but then her eyes landed on you. For a brief moment, you froze, unsure of what to do. Should you wave? Smile? Pretend you hadn’t seen her at all?

Joohyun didn’t seem to have any hesitation, though. She gave you a small, polite smile and a nod as she passed by, her gaze lingering just a second longer than you expected. It wasn’t much - just a brief moment of acknowledgment - but it was enough to make you almost crazy.

Yerim nudged you again, practically vibrating with excitement. "Did you see that? She smiled at you! Oh my god, this is progress. We’re making moves!"

"Calm down," you said, trying to sound nonchalant, though you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. "It was just a smile. She smiles at everyone at games."

"Yeah, but she smiled at you and I’m standing here like a snack," Yerim insisted, her grin widening. "That’s gotta mean something."

You shook your head, “You’re being delusional, Yerim.”

Before she could respond, the whistle blew, signaling the start of the scrimmage. The players took their positions on the field, and you quickly turned your attention back to your camera.

Throughout the game, you found yourself glancing over at Joohyun more than you intended to. Every time you tried to focus on the action on the field, your eyes betrayed you, drifting back to where she stood, cheering with that infectious enthusiasm. Her smile seemed to light up the entire stadium, brighter than the field lights themselves.

But then it happened. She caught you staring. Your heart skipped a beat as your gaze collided with hers, and for a split second, you froze, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up your neck. Joohyun met your eyes and gave you another smile, one that felt warm, but suddenly it made you feel exposed.

You quickly looked away, pretending to adjust your camera settings, but the embarrassment lingered. God, she probably thinks I’m a creep, you thought, mentally kicking yourself.

As the game wore on, you put those thoughts aside to focus on the story. By the time the final whistle blew, you were more relieved than anything. The match had been tense, and you were just glad it was over. The team celebrated their hard-fought win, and you lowered your camera, ready to pack up and call it a day.

But then, Minho had to pull his jersey over his face in celebration, revealing a perfectly toned set of abs and stealing the attention of his fangirls and fanboys. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Of course, he has abs, you thought, trying to suppress the mild envy creeping in

"Well, that was fun," Yerim said, stretching as she stood up. "So, what’s the plan now? You gonna stick around for interviews, or are we grabbing food?"

"I need to get a few more shots and talk to the coach about the game," you replied, packing up your gear. "But after that, food sounds good."

"Cool. I’ll wait for you by the bleachers," Yerim said, chucking up a peace sign. "Try not to let Joohyun distract you too much."

You rolled your eyes as she walked off, but you couldn’t help but smile…

You and Yerim walked across campus, the fliers in your hands feeling heavier with every step. The afternoon sun was sitting high in the sky, and you were starting to regret your life choices - mainly, why you agreed to this. Promoting the annual college radio event wasn’t exactly thrilling, especially knowing it had the energy of a retirement home bingo night.

"I still can’t believe you volunteered for this," Yerim said, holding up a flier like it was a tragic masterpiece. "No one ever shows up, except for a few lost freshmen."

You sighed, pinning another flier to the bulletin board outside the student center. "I know, but Changmin looked desperate. And I already feel guilty knowing it’ll probably be a flop, so I figured I’d help out."

Yerim gave you an exaggerated look of pity. "This is like going from your prime time slot to a 2 a.m. infomercial. What’s next, counting ceiling tiles in the library?"

"Maybe," you muttered. "At least it’d be quiet."

Yerim rolled her eyes and smirked. "You’re such an old lady."

You chuckled, knowing it was half-true. As you both made your way to the psychology department, where there were a few more pinboards, your attention suddenly caught on something or rather, someone.

Joohyun.

She was standing near the water fountain, refilling her water bottle, her calm, collected presence making your stomach do that fluttery thing again. The memory of the game popped back into your mind, specifically, the part where she caught you staring at her like a total creep. You’d been trying to shake off the embarrassment ever since.

Yerim noticed her too, and the familiar mischievous glint sparked in her eyes. "Hey, isn’t that your favorite cheerleader?" she whispered, grinning like the Cheshire cat. "Now’s your chance. Go say hi."

You shot her an exasperated look. "Why would I do that? She probably doesn’t even know my name. What am I supposed to say? ‘Hi, I’m the person who stared at you during the game’?"

Yerim smirked, clearly enjoying your inner turmoil. "Oh, come on. She’s probably forgotten all about it. Just go over there, act normal, and don’t bring up your little staring contest."

You sighed, trying to focus on the pinboard in front of you instead of the fact that Joohyun was literally ten feet away. "You’re making this sound easy."

"Well, if you’re not going to do it yourself, I’ll just have to help you along," Yerim said, and before you could protest, she not-so-subtly nudged you in Joohyun’s direction.

You stumbled forward, barely catching yourself as you nearly collided with Joohyun. She turned around just in time to see you regaining your balance, her eyes widening slightly in surprise.

"Oh, sorry!" you blurted out, awkwardly clutching your stack of fliers. "I didn’t see you there."

Joohyun blinked, then offered you a polite smile. "That’s okay. It happens."

Yerim, who had positioned herself conveniently nearby, was failing miserably at pretending not to be entertained by the whole situation. You could feel her eyes boring into you, silently egging you on.

"Uh, how’s it going?" you asked, internally cringing at how generic that sounded.

"Good," Joohyun replied, her tone soft. She glanced at the fliers in your hands. "Hanging up fliers?"

"Yeah," you said, trying to sound casual. "Just helping out with some promotions. You know, the usual."

She nodded, her expression still neutral. There was a moment of silence, just long enough to make you start to sweat, before she offered you a small smile. "You’re always working hard, aren’t you?"

Your brain stalled. For a second, you weren’t sure you heard her right. Joohyun noticed you? You, the girl who had been trying to stay invisible this entire time? Your mouth went dry as your mind raced to come up with a response, something coherent at least, but all that came out was, “Uh, yeah, I guess.”

Great. Really nailed it. You could practically feel Yerim’s second-hand embarrassment radiating from a few feet away, but Joohyun didn’t seem fazed. In fact, her smile lingered, like she was waiting for you to say more.

"I mean, I like staying busy," you added hastily, trying to recover. Your heart hammered in your chest as you searched her face for any sign of amusement or judgment, but all you saw was that same curiosity. It was unnerving, yet kind of thrilling.

“Well, it shows,” Joohyun said, giving a small nod before glancing at the stack of fliers in your hands. "Good luck with the event."

And just like that, she turned to leave, her water bottle in hand, leaving you standing there, gripping the fliers like a lifeline.

It took a second for your brain to catch up to the rest of your body, the interaction replaying in your mind on a loop. She noticed you. She thought you worked hard. You wanted to feel proud, but all you could focus on was the fact that Joohyun noticed you.

Behind you, Yerim’s muffled laughter broke through the haze of disbelief. "Oh my god, you should see yourself. You’re totally blushing!”

You tried to play it cool, but the heat creeping up your neck betrayed you. “I-I’m not, the AC in here sucks," you mumbled, even though it was perfectly cool and ventilated throughout the building.

As you moved on to the next pinboard, you replayed the brief conversation with Joohyun in your mind, chastising yourself for every little mistake you made but also a little proud you didn’t spontaneously combust in front her. Well, a win is a win…

It had been a few weeks since you hung fliers in the psychology department, awkwardly bumping into Joohyun. Since then, your time in the media center had dwindled. Other students on the school paper were eager to get their hands on some sports stories, and you were more than happy to give them the reigns. Besides, the break gave you a chance to slow down and focus on other things like keeping up with your classes, helping your peers, and seeing Joohyun in Journalism 1 twice a week.

You couldn’t exactly say things had changed much between you and Joohyun. You still admired her from afar, barely making eye contact during class, and any passing interactions were short-lived. But today, Professor Kim was ramping things up with the partner project, and your mind buzzed with nerves and anticipation.

"Alright, everyone, listen up," Professor Kim’s voice rang out, snapping you out of your thoughts. "You've all been building your skills over the last few weeks, and now it’s time to put them into practice with a partner project."

Your stomach twisted. The partner project? Already? You glanced around the room as a few students exchanged looks. This was going to be interesting.

“You and your partner will be interviewing each other,” Professor Kim continued, pacing at the front of the classroom. “Twenty minutes each, so forty minutes in total. I want you and your partner to find something newsworthy to report on based on your interviews. Whether it's a unique hobby, an unusual experience, or a surprising interest. You’ll need to research your partner beforehand. Stalk them a bit on social media, Google them, find out whatever you can. Then, write 8 to 10 questions for the interview which will be due by class next Monday, and next Wednesday there will be no class, so you have time to interview your partner.”

Your mind immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario, being paired with someone who didn’t care about the project. Or worse, being paired with Joohyun. You gulped at the thought.

“The final story will be collaborative," Professor Kim continued, "There are different requirements for the project depending on the medium of your choice - print, audio, or video, but the details of that are on the syllabus.”

Professor Kim then held up a small hat, clearly excited about what was coming next. “Half of you will tear out a piece of paper, write your name, and drop it into this hat. The other half will draw a name, announce it, and that will be your partner.”

The class groaned, but you could tell some people were excited. You, however, were trying to calculate the odds of not getting paired with Joohyun.

You watched as the first half of the class, including Joohyun, scribbled their names on pieces of paper and dropped them into the hat. You were in the second half, the group tasked with pulling names. As the hat slowly circled around the room, Professor Kim paused at each student to let them pick.

Your heart pounded harder with every name that was read aloud.

“Kim Minjeong.”

“Jung Jaehyun.”

“Jimin—oh, great…”

One by one, names were called out, and with each one, you felt a strange mixture of relief and rising panic. The hat finally made its way to you. Your hands were clammy as you reached in, fishing around until you grabbed a small slip of paper.

Please don’t be Joohyun, please don’t be Joohyun, you chanted in your head.

You opened the slip of paper.

“Bae… Joohyun.” The words left your mouth before you could stop them.

You felt your stomach drop as the room went quiet. You could feel the eyes on you—mostly Yerim’s, though her smug face was nowhere to be seen—and you froze, struggling to keep your cool. When you finally glanced up, Joohyun was looking directly at you, her expression calm but curious.

You swallowed hard, trying to seem composed. You definitely didn’t feel composed.

Professor Kim smiled and nodded. “Great. Everyone else has their partners. Before you leave, I want you to exchange contact information, introduce yourselves, though I assume most of you already know each other, and plan a time to meet.”

You stayed seated for a moment, dreading the thought of standing up and walking over to Joohyun. But you had to do it. You have to be professional, you reminded yourself.

After taking a deep breath, you stood, your legs feeling a little shaky, and walked over to Joohyun’s desk, where she was quietly packing her things. She looked up as you approached, smiling shyly.

“H-hey,” you stammered, nerves kicking in as you awkwardly slid into the seat beside her. “Looks like we’re partners.”

Joohyun nodded with a cute smile. “Looks like it.”

“So, um… we should figure out when to meet for the interviews,” you said, trying to sound normal but feeling anything but with her watching you with bright eyes.

“Yeah,” Joohyun agreed easily. “How about next Wednesday? Or whenever works for you.”

You nodded a bit too quickly. “Sure, that works! I mean, Wednesday’s good for me.”

An awkward pause followed, and you could feel your heart racing as the silence stretched. Desperate to seem less weird, you pulled out your phone - only to fumble it like a hot potato, sending it flying onto the desk with a loud clatter. Joohyun burst out laughing, the sound completely unfiltered.

“Well,” she said moments later, her body shaking slightly with silent laughter, “at least I’m not the only one a little nervous about the project.”

You blinked, your cheeks burning. If only she knew it wasn’t the project making you nervous. “I—I guess we’re in this together,” you mumbled, feeling both embarrassed and relieved.

Joohyun’s smile softened as she picked up your phone and handed it back. “Yeah, we’ll figure it out.”

You thanked her quietly, your hands brushing for a brief second as you exchanged contact info. The awkward tension between you both started to fade, replaced by a sense of familiarity. Joohyun, despite her reputation, seemed just as shy by the end of class.

“See you next time,” she said gently, her eyes meeting yours.

“Yeah,” you replied, your heart still pounding. “See you.”

As you left the classroom, you pulled out your phone and shot Yerim a quick text.

You (2:33 pm): Guess what? Just got paired with Bae fucking Joohyun for the project.

Her response came back instantly.

Yerim (2:33 pm) ??? are you breathing ???

You nearly choked on a laugh, tucking your phone away. Maybe, just maybe, this project wouldn’t be so bad after all…

The hum of the café provided the perfect background noise as you tried to clear your mind. After a whirlwind week of classes, getting off campus was a much needed escape. The coffee shop you and Yerim had chosen was small, tucked away in a quiet corner of town, just the kind of spot you both liked.

You took a sip of your favorite coffee, the warmth calming your nerves, as you stared at the blank document on your laptop. Interview questions. That’s what you were supposed to be working on. The project with Joohyun was real now, and it was your job to research her and draft some thoughtful questions.

But professionalism wasn’t exactly what was on your mind.

You glanced around the café, making sure Yerim wasn’t paying attention. She was engrossed in her own laptop, typing furiously. Thinking the coast was clear, you pulled up Joohyun’s Instagram on your phone. You’d looked her up before, obviously. Long before this project was even a thing. But back then, her profile had been private. You’d debated sending her a follow request so many times, but always chickened out.

Now, though? You were following each other.

Joohyun had texted you a few days ago, asking for your social media handles. Just seeing her name pop up on your screen had made your heart skip a beat. Bae Joohyun. For a brief moment, you let yourself imagine she was texting you for something more. But the excitement faded as soon as you saw her message—it was just about the project.

You sighed and pushed that memory aside as you scrolled through her feed. Her profile was clean, simple, and exactly what you’d expect. Lots of scenic shots, some sunsets, quiet moments in nature. There were a few selfies, where she looked effortlessly stunning, of course. Then, there were the photos of her with Minho.

They seemed happy. A handful of pictures together, tagged at restaurants and casual days out. That familiar twist of disappointment crept up.

"Looking up your new girlfriend, I see?" Yerim’s voice cut through your thoughts, startling you.

You fumbled, nearly dropping your phone. "What? No!"

Yerim raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Sure, sure. You’re not being very subtle here."

You groaned, putting your phone down. "It’s for the questions I have to come up with. And how many times do I have to remind you about her boyfriend?”

"Ah, yes, perfect Minho," Yerim said, rolling her eyes dramatically. "But you’ve got something too. Maybe not trophies, fame, and abs just yet but you’re a cutie who has a knack for chatting people up.”

You snorted, shaking your head. "Thanks for the pep talk."

Yerim grinned. "Anytime. But seriously, stop creeping on her Instagram and focus on your work, weirdo.”

You walked briskly across campus, your nerves fluttering as you neared the media center. Today was the interview with Joohyun, and while you’d snagged a cozy room filled with snacks and drinks to make things more comfortable, it was hard to shake the anxiety. Joohyun was your partner, and the idea of interviewing her still felt surreal.

Professor Kim’s constant reminder to “dress professionally” echoed in your mind as you tugged at the fitted oxford grey long-sleeve top you wore. The black slacks and boots completed the look, giving you an air of confidence you weren’t entirely sure you felt. Looking the part seemed to be half the battle.

As you approached the media center, you spotted Joohyun waiting by the room door, looking effortlessly composed in a black V-neck sweater tucked into sleek black pants, her low-heeled boots completing the outfit. If Steve Jobs had gone full-on fashion icon, it would be Joohyun. She looked like a young hot CEO of a multibillion-dollar company.

You swallowed hard, trying to calm your racing heart.

Just as you reached for the door, you heard Changmin’s voice behind you.

“Well, don’t you two look serious,” he said with a playful grin, his coffee mug firmly in hand.

Your face flushed instantly, caught off guard by his teasing. He shot you a knowing wink before heading off, leaving you feeling like he knew far more about your situation than you’d ever told him.

You quickly composed yourself and opened the door, motioning for Joohyun to go in first. “After you,” you said, hoping your voice sounded more confident than you felt.

“Thanks,” Joohyun replied, offering you a kind smile as she stepped inside.

You let out a small breath of relief as you followed her into the room, shutting the door behind you. The room was quiet, the snacks laid out neatly on the table, and you both settled in quickly, exchanging small talk on the way. Despite your best efforts to stay calm, Joohyun’s presence had you on edge. It wasn’t that you were inexperienced, you’d done countless interviews before, but interviewing her made it different.

After a minute of organizing your notes, you glanced at Joohyun and noticed something that surprised you. She was fidgeting with the hem of her sweater, her fingers twisting the fabric, and she shifted in her seat. For someone who always seemed so poised, she looked nervous herself.

You hesitated for a moment, then leaned forward, deciding to take a chance. “Hey, are you okay? You seem a little… on edge.”

Joohyun’s eyes widened slightly, and she let out a soft, embarrassed laugh. “Yeah, I guess I am. I’m not used to doing interviews, especially with someone who’s clearly experienced and really good at what they do.”

You blinked, genuinely surprised. “You’re nervous because of me?”

She nodded, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks. “Yeah, kind of. You’ve done this a lot, and I’m still figuring things out. Plus, Professor Kim seems to think highly of you, so there’s a bit of pressure.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Joohyun, the campus queen, nervous because of you? The thought was almost unreal, and yet here she was, feeling the same way you had when you first saw her name on the slip of paper.

You chuckled, trying to ease the tension. “Trust me, I’m still figuring things out too. Actually…” You hesitated for a second, nerves bubbling up as you decided whether or not to tell her the story. But seeing her this vulnerable made you want to take the chance. “If you’re up for it, I can tell you about the first time I interviewed someone.”

Joohyun looked intrigued, so you continued, even though the story still made you cringe a little. “It was for the school paper during my first year. I was interviewing one of the professors for a feature piece, and I was so nervous, but he reassured me that I wouldn’t do a bad job. So, I got comfortable eventually. We sat there for probably twenty minutes, and I thought I was being all professional, nodding along and asking good questions. Then I realized the recorder wasn’t even on.”

Joohyun’s eyes widened, and she leaned forward with a wide grin. “Oh god, what did you do?”

“I panicked,” you chuckled, feeling more relaxed now that she was laughing. “I didn’t want to ask him to do the whole thing again, so I tried to rely on my notes, but they were a mess. It was awful. So, I asked for another interview, but he wasn’t exactly enthused about it.”

Joohyun was laughing fully now, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “That’s amazing. I would’ve died.”

“I almost did,” you said, joining in her laughter. “So, if I can survive that, you can survive this. Trust me.”

The tension between you eased as Joohyun relaxed, her shoulders no longer hunched and her fingers no longer fidgeting with her sweater. “Thanks for sharing that,” she said, still smiling. “I guess I was overthinking it.”

You nodded, smiling warmly. “You’re going to do great. And we’re just practicing, right? I’m here to help.”

The interview started smoothly after that. Joohyun’s answers were thoughtful and personal. She talked about psychology and why she was drawn to it, places she’s traveled, and how she balanced her academics with her extracurriculars. She mentioned how photography was a way for her to decompress, especially when she captured photos of the sky and nature, and how there was a small garden on campus that was her favorite spot to think.

By the time it was her turn to interview you, she was much more confident. Her questions were unpresumptuous and relevant. They were about why you chose journalism, what kept you motivated when things got tough, and what got you into photography yourself.

“I saw some of your nature shots,” Joohyun said, her voice thoughtful. “They seem to be mostly pictures taken on hiking trips, is that right?”

You nodded. “Yeah, it’s kind of a side hobby. It helps me clear my head.”

As she listened carefully to you, you could see her growing more comfortable in the journalist role. By the time the interview wrapped up, the room felt lighter, and you were both sighing with relief.

“That wasn’t so bad, right?” you teased, packing up your notes.

Joohyun smiled, her shoulders visibly relaxed. “You’re really good at making people feel comfortable. I wasn’t expecting that,” she said, a hint of admiration in her voice. Then, realizing how it might sound, she quickly added, “Not that I didn’t think you could! I just didn’t expect it to be so… easy.”

You blinked, a bit taken aback by her sudden fluster. “Oh, don’t worry. I didn’t take it that way at all,” you reassured her. “I’m just glad I could help. And honestly, you did really well too.”

At that, Joohyun’s cheeks flushed slightly, and she let out a small, relieved laugh.

As you both stood to leave, you held the door open for her again, and she glanced back at you with a grateful smile. “Thanks again. Really.”

You returned the gesture, feeling a warm sense of connection. “Anytime.”

As Joohyun walked out, you couldn’t help but feel that things had shifted slightly between you. It wasn’t just about the interview anymore…

After a discussion with Professor Kim and Changmin, you’d finally settled on the next direction of your soccer story. It wasn’t what you had originally planned, but both of them had made a compelling case. A feature on Minho. You’d dig into his struggles growing up and his rise through adversity. It would create the kind of emotional connection that any solid piece of journalism needed. The story wasn’t just solely about soccer anymore. It was the kind of personal journey that would resonate with the audience.

You knew it was great for your portfolio too. It was exactly the type of human-interest story that could set you apart when applying for future jobs. You agreed to it, even though the idea of digging deeper into Minho’s life, with your feelings for Joohyun lurking in the background, made you a little uncomfortable. You could handle this professionally though. You had to.

Later that day, after his practice with the soccer team, you spotted Minho chatting with some of his teammates near the field. Taking a deep breath, you approached him.

“Minho,” you called out, waving slightly as you approached.

He turned to you, a welcoming smile already in place. “Hey! What’s up?”

You adjusted your bag, feeling the weight of it on your shoulder as you tried to keep your tone casual. “I wanted to talk to you about a potential story for the school radio.”

Minho raised an eyebrow, curious. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, pausing for a moment before continuing. “I was thinking about doing a feature on you. Something about you and not just soccer, how you’ve gotten to where you are now. I think it would be a really strong piece, but only if you’re up for it, of course.”

Minho’s expression softened, and for a moment, he looked genuinely surprised. “Wow. I don’t know what to say… I mean, I’d be honored. But really? A story on me?”

You nodded, smiling. “Yeah. I think people would really connect with it.”

He seemed to consider it for a moment, then nodded slowly. “If you think it’s a good idea, then I’m in.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “Great. I’ll start pulling things together soon, and we can schedule some time for interviews.”

Minho smiled humbly, “Sounds good. Thanks for thinking of me. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” you said, giving him a nod. “I’ll be in touch.”

After getting his contact info, you met up with Yerim at a nearby bar, ready to drink away some of the tension that had been building all week. Three shots in, you were starting to feel the warmth of the alcohol loosening up your thoughts. Just then, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You saw Joohyun’s name, and your heart did its usual happy flip. You quickly swiped to read her message.

Joohyun (9:17 pm): Hey, when do you want to meet to go over what we should report on from our interviews? I was thinking we could talk about it next week?

You exhaled slowly, the thrill of seeing her name making you grin. Joohyun texting first? A miracle. Her message was all business, which was its own kind of reality check, but hey, she was the one messaging you, and right now, that felt like something.

You had thought about meeting her at one specific place, but that was sober you and you didn’t have the guts to ask. However, with a little liquid courage coursing through your veins, you typed back, smirking to yourself.

You (9:19 pm) Nxt week sounds good, but I have an idea.. wanna go to that boba place on main st. aftr class on monday?

Satisfied, you hit send and dropped the phone back into your pocket, telling yourself you were such a genius for thinking of a way to spend more time with Joohyun, completely unaware of the grave you were digging for yourself…

To be continued...

#irene x reader #bae joohyun x reader #red velvet imagines

34 notes · View notes

goldenempyrean · 19 hours ago

Note

hey :) just wondering - would you ever consider writing for agatha harkness/rio vidal?

Under Her Spell

〚 Notes - So I originally wasn't going to write for them, since I tried to write Agatha in the past and couldn't quite nail her character down but I was super sleepy last night and wanted to give this a go! So let me know what you think! 〛

〚 Pairing - Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal 〛

〚 Summary - Agatha wakes up ill but she's got Rio to look after her. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 1280 〛

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Agatha Harkness was a woman of power.

A woman of strength and most certainly a woman of unwavering resolve. She’d faced trails, hunts and grief yet little had ever slowed her down. Yet here she was, slumped over her desk, surrounded by a messy pile of books and various other magical nicknacks.

She honestly wasn’t quite sure what she was meant to be doing. It had all seemed clear a few hours away when she felt decisively less shitty. You see, the witch had woken up with a groggy mumble and an empty bed to match. That wasn’t all too unusual, after all, her girlfriend’s “occupation” didn’t exactly give her the flexibility to lie in whenever she wanted

Agatha was used to it by now, what she wasn’t used to however was waking to a throbbing headache and horribly sore throat. She swallowed, the action provoking a sharp wince in response. Before she had even sat up properly, the brunette had been sent forward with an unpleasant fit, the dry rasping coughs only further irritating her enflamed throat.

She groaned as she forced herself up from the bed, each movement feeling like it took twice the  amount of effort. When she finally managed to stand, she had to reach back and grip the bedpost, her vision swimming for a moment and the room span out of focus.

After taking a minute to catch her breath she made her way over to her desk, weaving between the clutter that had accumulated on her floor—enchanted objects, potion bottles, and the odd errant crystal she’d forgotten to clean up

The desk was already covered in books and ancient tomes, their pages splayed open from last night’s research. Agatha had been on the verge of discovering something big—or at least, it had felt that way. But now, squinting at the words on the page, she found herself struggling to even focus.

That’s how it went for several hours, forcing herself to read lines of spells and chants, only half understanding their meaning. Even if she had, she was way too congested to pronounce anything correctly anyway. Why she had even bothered to work on this in the first place had been long forgotten but the thought of giving up without making any progress was embarrassing for a witch of her calibre. 

Rubbing at her nose, Agatha sniffled thickly but wasn’t doing much in the way of giving her relief.  Reaching over to her side, the pulled open the drawer of her desk pulling out a white stitched cloth.

Another sniffle escaped, this one more insistent, making her nose twitch. She could feel the prickling sensation of a sneeze building, and for a moment she tried to will it away, refusing to let the cold control even a small part of her. But the tickle won out, and with a begrudging gasp, she sneezed into her handkerchief, a soft, “Hh’tschh!” escaping before she could stifle it.

A distant knock at the door caught her attention. She coughed and pulled her navy cardigan closer around herself, wishing whoever it was to leave as quick as they came. They knocked again, a little louder this time. Agatha groaned, rolling her eyes as she glared towards the door.

She had just been about to get up when the wooden hinges creaked subtly as the door opened, “Agatha?” The witch instantly relaxed from the barely-held defensive position she’d gotten it when she recognised the voice calling out to her.

“In here my love.” The witch cringed at the sound of her own rasping voice, clearing her throat with an irritated noise as she looked up to see Rio leaning against the doorframe to her room.

“You look like death.”

“Hilarious.”

Rio shrugged with an amused smirk, “I like to think so.” She came towards Agatha, gently reaching out to touch her forehead, wincing at how warm her girlfriend felt beneath her touch, “I told you not to go out in the rain yesterday without so much as a coat to keep you warm. Now look at you.”

Agatha let out a grumble, eyes narrowing slightly as she looked up at Rio with a mixture of stubborn defiance and begrudging affection. “I can look after myself.” She said, her words quickly followed by a damp sniffle. The action didn’t provide her any relief, in fact it only seemed to irritate her sinuses further. Her pink nose twitched for a second before the witch scrambled to duck into the fabric she’d been clutching, “Hii’tshhuu!”

Rio made a noise somewhat between sympathy and adoration as she pressed a soft kiss to the top of Agatha’s forehead, her nose winkling a little as she realised how damp her hair was, “Were you outside again?”

“No.” Agatha grumbled, turning away to blow her nose quietly before continuing, “I think I broke a fever earlier. Just had to sweat it out I suppose.” She filled in the obvious and Rio simply hummed but her expression said she wanted to say something more.

The brunette dragged a chair to come and sit beside her girlfriend, watching silently as Agatha tried and failed to get on with some work, “Do you want me to draw you a bath love? I’m sorry but you’re fooling nobody with the way you’re shivering.” Rio took off her coat and laid the warm fabric over the witches shoulders. Agatha unconsciously sank into the garment, the faint smell of her girlfriend lingering on the item.

Agatha sniffled again, rubbing at her nose once more before nodding as she turned to look at her, “I’d like that.” She said simply, sighing before pushing her chair away from the desk, standing up to simply sit back down again a few seconds later, only this time she was sitting in Rio’s lap, tucking her head against the crook of her neck, “Thank you.”

Rio continued the hold her for a while, her hand finding its way beneath Agatha’s shirt as she drew shapes down her back, her cool touch providing a welcomed relief from the fever that had her freezing cold one minute and burning up the next, “You may have to let me get up if you want that bath anytime soon.” Rio murmured, earning a tired mumble in return. She hadn’t noticed how her girlfriend had practically fallen asleep against her, “You’re exhausted love.” Her voice was quiet.

Without another word, her girlfriend slipped her arm around Agatha’s shoulders, guiding her up, “Back to bed with you, hm?” Though her words were sweet, Rio’s tone left little room for arguments as she made easy work of getting the notoriously stubborn Agatha Harkness changed into fresh nightwear and then back under the covers of their bed, “Good girl.” She pressed another kiss to her forehead.

“I’m going to get you mix you something for your throat then run you a bath, alright? I don’t expect to come back and find you wondering about like a lost puppy.” Rio narrowed her eyebrows playfully but Agatha simply rolled onto her side and tugged the blanket a little closer over herself as she closed her eyes.

The Green witch sighed softly, this time as she leant down she allowed herself to plant a kiss on her girlfriend’s pink tinged cheeks, earning a sleepy mumble of gratitude from her partner, “Just rest, okay? I’ll wake you up in a little bit.”

So maybe Agatha was stubborn. Maybe she was a woman of power. The woman of power. But right now she was a sleepy, feverish, sniffly mess. But maybe that was okay.  Now she had Rio to take care of her and that was all that mattered.

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#agatha harkness #agatha all along #rio vidal #agathario #agatha harkness x rio vidal #agatha x rio #sickfic #whump #fluff #marvel #fanfic #rio vidal fanfic #agatha harkness fanfic #agatha harkness sickfic

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jbaileyfansite · 18 hours ago

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Vanity Fair Interview for the Hollywood Issue (2024)

In the last 13 months or so, Jonathan Bailey has carried on a secret gay love affair in McCarthy-era Washington, performed cunnilingus in a Regency England manor, rendered teenage boys speechless with a pop-philosophy lecture, and danced through life in a prince’s bedazzled breeches. This coming summer, he’s fleeing dinosaurs.

That would be in, respectively: Fellow Travelers, Bridgerton, Heartstopper, Wicked, and Jurassic World Rebirth. But even if he’s just pretended to do all those things, it’s understandable why Bailey is, right now, pinking his nose at a villa in Puglia.

“It is just so dreamy to be able to chill out,” he says via Zoom. “The cortisol levels have depleted.”

Playing Fiyero in Wicked was a dream come true for Bailey, who at one point in our conversation fantasizes about going to a Broadway rave with his castmates—he refers to Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo as simply “the girls”—and dancing to techno remixes of Wicked tracks, like “Defying Gravity,” under pulsating green lasers.

After filming the two-part movie with the girls, he’s nabbed an Emmy nod for Fellow Travelers and started a charity, the Shameless Fund, to uplift the LGBTQ+ community he’s proud to be a part of.

We’re thrilled to have Bailey as part of our 2025 Hollywood Issue. Here, he shares his thoughts on being a change agent in Hollywood, how he chooses roles, and the secret talent that he wishes he’d kept a secret.

Vanity Fair: What a run! How are you feeling?

Jonathan Bailey: I’m very much enjoying my holiday. But the girls started rehearsing Wicked, what, two and a half years ago? I think people assume that I haven’t had any breaks, but I have. Also, we had the strike right in the middle. What was crazy is going from Fellow Travelers to Wicked, just insane.

The Wicked movie is so close to the stage show that if you’re a big fan, you’re not going to be like, “Well, I can’t believe they…” It hews so closely, how could you complain there? But that flip. Are you a secret tumbler?

I remember I’d flown back from Canada and then I was filming Bridgerton. I met the girls then, and they were well and truly underway. I remember going to the dressing rooms, and theirs were pink and green and were just spilling into the hallway. And mine was just an interrogation room with nothing.

But I did spend the whole day with [choreographer] Chris Scott and went from Chris Scott to see [musical writer] Stephen Schwartz, and it was just, for me, boot camp days. You just lean on the amazing choreographers and obviously [director] Jon M. Chu’s vision. So when it came to the beginning of “Dancing Through Life,” I felt like it had to be sort of a flair and sort of performative, but hopefully in a way that was just with abandon and not arrogance. I did gymnastics growing up and I did dancing. I was the only boy within a whatever-mile radius. And because I was a boy and I was dancing, whenever the Royal Shakespeare Company wanted to cast someone, they called. It was dancing that got me into acting. And in dance school—not school, but a hobby club—they had acrobatics, which I was obsessed with. So I had, and still do have, a very bendy back, as shown in Wicked.

I’m a big fan of Heartstopper, the books and then the show; I loved the comic. Was that something that you sought out, or they were like, “Hey, we need someone who’s so handsome that he sends multiple people into a crisis”?

I sort of wedged myself into that part. I was so moved by the series and also the graphic novel.

And, of course, doing Bridgerton—it’s funny what comes with doing a lot of press, and suddenly there’s a lot that people want to know about you, and there’s a lot that’s asked of you that, obviously, in any other industry, you wouldn’t have to talk about. So I was hyperaware of the complexities and nuances of how I felt about myself being a gay man, let alone a gay actor, and suddenly finding success in playing a straight part and talking about that. Heartstopper seems to allow people to feel catharsis and to feel a sort of melancholic sort of nostalgia for what could have been. I was feeling all of those things anyway. And [executive producer] Patrick Walters is really good friends with Josh Cole, who produced Crashing, so it is all a bit of a small world.

I love the cast. I think they’re brilliant. I remember seeing all of them speak to their own experiences and being like, My God, they’re so erudite and grounded and thoughtful and kind and compassionate in their answers. I would be really proud of myself if I could be a part of that as my younger self. Everyone above the age of 40 should be forced to watch it.

Do you think that Hollywood is more open to risk than it used to be? So many of these projects wouldn’t have existed 10 years ago.

Yeah. And with huge budgets and [the] trusting of Universal and Donna Langley and Peter Cramer, obviously they just got the right people, with Marc Platt, and they took their time. That’s the common denominator between these things: Fellow Travelers took 10 years to percolate and run its way in his genius, genial brain, and then four years to commission. Wicked, I think they’ve been trying to make a film of it for over 10 years. With Jurassic as well, this time they’re going back to David Koepp, the original writer of the original film, and Gareth [Edwards] is shooting on film.

I’m going to crack on with the work and I’m just incredibly excited for opportunities. I do think that as long as the work is good, anyone should be able to do the job. And I think that’s what’s changed. I obviously did not imagine myself in this sort of career, so that must be a sign of progress.

Do you get recognized out and about a lot? You’re in all these properties now that have such intense fan bases.

It’s funny—obviously, you do get recognized, but the Bridgerton of it all is really interesting, because it’s one thing to be on a show that is national, but I feel like I was more recognized outside of the UK than in the UK. It takes time to adjust to, it really does. It’s not an easy thing, but it also is amazing.

Do you have any secret talents? You already said that flipping is your party trick.

Yeah, I think that, and I was going to say dexterous toes…

What do you do with them?

…. but I would regret that, so I didn’t say it.

But then you did. What can you do with them that makes you so sure they’re dexterous?

Nothing about this goes well...I just remember entertaining my sisters by being able to pick things up with my toes, but like a monkey. But we probably don’t need to put that in writing.

Physical therapists, I’m sure, hail you.

I did ballet for ages, and I’ve only as an adult found out I’ve got very flat feet. Doing Fiyero, I learned that. And the physio one day walked in because my knees were twanging, and across the room he went, “You got flat feet.”

Your big secret: flat feet.

Yeah, that’s my party trick as well.

Revealed. Do you consider yourself to be a rule follower or a rule breaker? Are you afraid of getting in trouble?

I’m not a rule breaker, I just don’t really adhere. Do you know what I mean? If someone says, don’t do that, I won’t not do it. Probably people would always have said I was probably quite naughty.

You have a philanthropy, the Shameless Fund. Can you tell me about what inspired you to start that?

I’ve always found it is impossible to talk about this without sounding like an asshole, but it’s something that I do think about: opportunities for other people. And I also see where there’s an abundance of energy, whether that be money or creative, that could be siphoned off into other areas.

With the Shameless Fund particularly, there were certain commercial opportunities that were coming my way that I just wasn’t interested in because they just didn’t feel right, or I didn’t want to be stepping into [them]. I’m hoping next year we’re going to start giving out grants, in 2025.

Whom will the grants be going to?

Well, we’ve got three that we are certain on, nonprofits and charities that work internationally and locally in the UK for areas of the LGBT+ community, to educate and elevate. Hopefully, we’ll get to a point where we can offer smaller nonprofits a platform.

The three weeks after Bridgerton came out, there were so many requests from charities that I found it so upsetting and distressing because I wanted to do all of them. “Can you come to this thing, or can you speak, or can you send a shoe, or could you send a bag? Could you sign a script?” So this is also a way where you can work with multiple groups, become a bit of a patron.

Is there anyone who you feel reached back and helped you along in your career too?

Theater directors massively. Ian McKellen was wildly amazing, and I did King Lear with him. He was one of the first people to come to see me when I did Cock on the West End, and we went for a drink afterwards. He was so clear about how it might play out, and should it play out that way, what to be excited about and what to be aware of. I couldn’t wish for a better role model.

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#jonathan bailey #jonny bailey #interviews #interviews:2024 #vanity fair hollywood issue interview #vanity fair #NEW!

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fxckn-sxck-fr · 3 days ago

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id lovee to hear ur rankings of the comic book men from appearing to be the most normal to something is obviously wrong w them (if that makes sense... like,,,, who is and isnt an obv red flag)

ur writing keeps me fed :3

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐂 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐆𝐒…

!!! GN reader, manipulation, gaslighting, mentions of stalker-ish picture-taking, mentions of schizophrenia and anxiety, poor treatment of mental illness, mentions of violent behaviors, murderous Bucky Barnes, Tim Drake (he’s just a problem), mentions of suicidal tendencies, can be translated as platonic or romantic.

EAAAAATT!!!!! EEEEAAAAATTTT!!!!!!!!! EAT MY WRITING!!!! CONSUME IT!!!!!!!!!!!

Remember, this is from least to most, meaning we’ll talk about the seemingly well-adjusted folks first and gradually move up to the, “okay, what the fuck is wrong with him” peeps.

Wally West: The way he’s playing everyone like a fiddle is downright disrespectful. He’s filled to the brim with green flags, easily appearing as one of the safest guys on the planet. Even when you start to suspect something, you have to constantly second guess yourself, because come on… it’s Wally. What the fuck can he do wrong? Don’t even bother voicing any of your concerns. No one — and I mean no one — will believe you. Having problems with Wally West? The embodiment of a warm summer evening? Damn, that sounds like a you problem. Poor Wally, having to deal with a crazy weirdo.

Dick Grayson: He’s got an amazing personality and pretty privilege working for him. At this rate, the masses manipulate themselves. Only those who are extremely perceptive will pick up on the cold glint in his eyes, and even then, the mystique only adds to his charm. By the time you realize he’s been hiding a darker side, it’s too late. Everyone’s too captivated by how endearing Dick is to hear you out. Even those who know him personally — who know about his struggles and rough patches — think you’re full of shit. Dick’s an emotionally mature man, so why don’t you just talk it out with him?

Steve Rogers: This is a bit unfair, considering the leverage he’s granted as Captain America, but hey… work what you got. While it may seem obvious to you that he’s way too overbearing and protective, good luck trying to get other people on your side. Everyone else thinks it’s a part of his 40s charm. Social norms were just different back then; why can’t you be more appreciative of his old-fashioned care? Besides, you’re probably overreacting. Is it really that bad? Steve is the leader of the Avengers, so maybe you’re just taking his authoritative demeanor the wrong way.

Clark Kent: I’m gonna be so for real, any man from a fuckass state like Kansas is going to come with some personality quirks. People will probably give him the benefit of the doubt by default. Just a farm boy trying to navigate the big city and can’t even hurt a fly. Sure, he can be odd at times, but nothing makes him an inherently bad guy. This is the same man that helps old people cross the street, for god’s sake! He most definitely means well, it’s just a matter of setting boundaries with him. What’s the worst he can do?

Remy LeBeau: Despite what differing opinions may say about The Gambit, Remy seems like he’s got his head on his shoulders. His “red flags” are more on the blurry side. Do you count excessive flirting as a red flag? What about hiding behind charisma and a fake ego instead of going to therapy? Some people may say yes, others no. But in terms of glaring red flags, Remy’s relatively clean. We’ve all got our issues, no? Being a thief doesn’t make you a psycho. That being said, due to Remy’s shifty past, people may be more inclined to listen should you ever express that something’s wrong.

Peter Parker: Honestly… he’s a bit of a weirdo. Nothing obvious at first, but the longer you know him, the more behaviors you may pick up on that make you go, “oh… well… that’s weird”. Take his Polaroid obsession, for example. He’s got at least one photo in every jacket pocket, dozens in his wallet, and a fuck ton in his desk. Poor guy accidentally spilled them all over the ground once, which naturally sparked rumors. But Peter’s a sweetheart. Clingy, but still a sweetheart. Maybe he’s just a little messed up due to everything he’s lost in his life.

Bruce Wayne: Okay. Red flags in the playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne? Absolutely unheard of. He’s an absolute angel. According to all of the stan accounts out there, he could do nothing wrong. But red flags in the real Bruce Wayne? Where do we even begin. Distrusting as fuck, paranoid, argumentative, the occasional fit of violence, a known manipulator and liar… want me to keep going, because I can. It’s very hard to rank Bruce due to the ginormous contrast between general public opinion and those who actually know him, so he goes smack in the middle. Billionaire Bruce Wayne would never be a horrible person to you, but the real Bruce Wayne 100% would.

Jaime Reyes: Because of how mental illness is stigmatized, Jaime’s unfortunately labeled to be dangerous. But it’s not really his fault. That damn scarab has him muttering to himself like a crackhead, and naturally assumptions will be made. When actually given a chance, people will learn that Jaime’s a nice kid. He just probably struggles with schizophrenia or really bad anxiety. Yes, his paranoia can get bad, but again; mental illness. He’s never proven himself to a threat, despite what others may think. He just needs help (but there’s no way to combat the manipulation of Khaji Da. Jaime lost that battle the moment he became Blue Beetle).

Hal Jordan: Oh, yeah. He’s got red flags alright. But they’re mostly normal ones, like his ego and horrendous stubborn streak. Lots of guys out there are like that, and are they considered freaks? No. Well, not all of them. However, it is a bit concerning that he’s willing to throw hands at the drop of a hat. Bro’s one major freak out away from catching assault charges like they’re Pokémon. But if it’s any consolation, it should be noted that he hasn’t gotten into major legal trouble. On Earth. Yet. Some call him rough around the edges, others call him a severely troubled individual. Either way, he definitely needs to seek professional help.

Scott Summers: MAJOR red flags. He’s an overbearing control freak that really needs to work on his… well… his everything. Emotional intelligence, temper, daddy issues… yeah, no. He’s an amazing leader, but probably someone you should steer clear from otherwise. Most wouldn’t be surprised if you two were having issues. It’s not like he wears all of his problems on his sleeve; the iceberg goes much deeper than that. Though he sure as hell doesn’t present himself as a well-adjusted member of society. Proceed at your own risk. Don’t say you weren’t warned, because you probably were.

Bucky Barnes: This is the opposite of Captain America’s case. His reputation as the Winter Soldier kind of skews the perception of him to be a walking red flag. And you know, he really is. Bucky is extremely dangerous. Down to snap necks anytime, anywhere, no amount of charm or endearing quirks will make people feel fully safe around him. His history of violence did not stop post-brainwashing. And it’s not like he’s hiding it, either. There’s this crazed gleam in his eyes that just screams “fuck around and find out,” no matter what his mood is. Who in their right mind would involve themself with THE Winter Soldier?! Yeah, no shit you’re having issues with him. He is an issue.

Tim Drake: Bro is the epitome of “you’re scaring the hoes.” He could be walking down the street — face neutral, hands in his pockets — and total strangers will get the sense that something is deeply wrong with him. The aura around him exudes the reddest of flags. Yes, his face and intelligence are attractive, but even those who have fallen for his pretty boy swag can’t help but sigh dreamily and think, “he really needs to be institutionalized.” Disturbing humor. Creepy staring. Mood swings. Suicidal tendencies. Sadomasochism to the max. The list goes on and on and on. If Dead Dove: Do Not Eat was a person, it’d be him. What were you expecting? It’s Tim fucking Drake.

#❥ CALL INCOMING: DO YOU LIKE SCARY MOVIES?#❥ TW: YANDERE #❥ YANDERE CHARACTER #❥ PLATONIC YANDERE #❥ ROMANTIC YANDERE #❥ YANDERE BRUCE WAYNE #❥ YANDERE BUCKY BARNES #❥ YANDERE CLARK KENT #❥ YANDERE DICK GRAYSON #❥ YANDERE HAL JORDAN #❥ YANDERE JAIME REYES #❥ YANDERE PETER PARKER #❥ YANDERE REMY LEBEAU #❥ YANDERE SCOTT SUMMERS #❥ YANDERE STEVE ROGERS #❥ YANDERE TIM DRAKE #❥ YANDERE WALLY WEST #❥ YANDERE VARIOUS X READER #❥ GN READER

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handmade-witch · 2 days ago

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Is It Over Now...? Part 3

Pairing: Toxic!Mattheo x fem!Reader

Hogwarts University!AU

Warnings: cursing, mentions of substance use (alcohol and marijuana), cheating

Part 1 Part 2

[[AN: I deeply apologize for the long wait for part three. To spare you the details... life got really busy. 😬 I'm not sure what the timeline is going to be for part 4 so if you're interested please let me know and I will add ur username to the tag list. As always, thank you for the love and support and feedback is appreciated. 💗💗]]

🎶 You dream of my mouth before it called you a lying traitor 🎶

"That prick!" Ginny growled. She had just woken up and her hair was a tangled mess atop her head.

"I'm so stupid." You mumble again. Your eyes are glossy and unfocused as you stare at the ground in front of you.

"Hey, look at me." Daphne snaps, she places her hands on both your shoulders and forces you to meet her icy gaze.

"You are not stupid. He is the stupid one for not realizing how good he had it. He's going to regret this."

Your eyes water a bit at her words and you blink away tears.

"I could key his car." Ginny offers, a sly smile on her face.

Hermione glares at the redhead, "Ginny, no."

"Oh c'mon Mione." She complains. "Stupid prick deserves even worse." She grumbles, rolling her eyes.

Through your tears you snort softly at your friend's fiery passion.

"I just want to crawl into a hole and die." You muttered. You rested your chin on your knees and hugged your legs tightly. "I can't bear to see his stupid face anytime soon." Involuntary tears resurfaced in the corners of your eyes.

"Well surely you're going to confront him?" Pansy furrows her eye brows at you.

"What part of I don't want to see him wasn't clear?"

"Yeah let's go give him a piece of our mind." Ginny punches her fist into the palm of her hand and her grin is wicked.

Tears quietly slip down your cheeks. "I don't think I can do it." You voice is comes out in an unsteady whisper. "I'm not strong enough."

A soft hand rests on your shoulder and you tilt your head and your teary eyes meet Luna's big blue ones. Her gaze is full of a quiet understanding. "Whatever you choose to do, we will be behind you."

You sniff, the tears flowing more freely now but the corner of your lips tugs into a smile. You nod.

"Even if you don't confront him, I have some choice words for him. Like first of all, how DARE he?" Ginny rants.

This does elicit a soft snort from you. You wipe your tears on your sleeve. "Maybe you're right. That asshole is the stupid one." The icy cold blood running through your veins begins to warm. "I was the PERFECT girlfriend and, what? That still wasn't enough for him? Fuck him." You spat.

"Thatta girl." Pansy gives you a smug look.

You climb to your feet, balling your fists at your side. "When I see him, I.." The warm coals of your angry flame have been coaxed into a fire, now burning bright.

"Maybe you should brush your teeth first?" Hermione offers, gesturing to the fact that you are still in your pajamas.

"Oh, right."

•••

You stalk across the lawn from the girls to the boys dormatories. The common area is mainly empty. Most students were likely sleeping or out getting something to eat. A few small groups of male students sat scattered around conversating. You scan their faces and find that your target is not present, but a familiar face spots your group as they enter.

Draco Malfoy sits in an armchair, peering over the top of a book. He quirks his eyebrow as the murderous parade approaches.

"We are in no mood for your bullshit today Malfoy" Pansy snears, scowling at the boy. He closes his book, placing it down on the table, and holds his hands up defensively. You continue marching forward, barely registering the exchange as your anger is focused on only a single target at the moment. As the group of girls stalks past, Draco quietly slips out of his chair and follows behind. He was never one to miss a dramatic episode unfolding.

You march up to the door, banging your fist against the wood. "Mattheo Riddle you open this door right now." You shout.

Quietly, the other boys peek out of their rooms, seeking the source of the commotion. Mattheo didn't need to guess why you were there. He already knew. And, as much as he wanted to sweep it under the rug and pretend it never happened, there was no more pretending.

When Mattheo opens the door his looks disheveled. His curly hair is mess and his eyes look sunken and dark.

Your eyes are angry and fiery, and your face is twisted into a scowl. You inhale and Mattheo braces himself for impact.

"What the fuck!? What in the actual fuck?!" You yelled, not caring that you had likely woke the entire boys dormitory.

"[Y/N]..."

"You lying traitor!" You spat, voice filled with poison and rage. Seeing his face made you more furious. "Never do anything to hurt me, huh? That's fucking rich. Fuck you, Mattheo Riddle." Your fists clenched hard at your sides.

"[Y/N] wait..." His voice trembled and you had never seen Mattheo cry, but damn if he didn't look close to tears. "I- I don't know what happened. It's just like I- like I just lose control of myself." He looks at you with sad eyes. You feel your stomach turn sour. "It won't happen again. Please- please, you have to believe me. Never again."

"No, Mattheo, don't you get it? That was your second, and only chance, and you fucked it up. It's over now." As the words left your lips your heart burned, begging you to recant them.

"Just listen to me please." His voice was strained but grew louder as he spoke. "Listen to me, dammit. That's not who I am. You know me, [Y/N]. Blame it on the alcohol, the weed, just please, please. I love you."

Your group of friends stood in the background, quietly watching the train wreck unfolding, unable to avert their gaze from the disaster laid before them.

"It's. Over. Now. Mattheo." You spoke through gritted teeth, and with that you stomped off angrily; hot, wet tears flowing freely down your cheeks.

Without a word, the army of girls that had accompanied you followed behind. The other slytherin boys just stood there, varying degrees of shock and confusion on their faces before they retreated from the scene of the crime, leaving Mattheo all alone in the hallway.

Part 4 is coming... eventually...

Comment if your interested in being added to the tag list for a reminder when the series continues! Thank you for the love and support! 💗

Taglist 💜: @nat1221 @hoeforvinniehackerrr @rorysbrainrot @leviosatothestars @themoodyteen @misamericana1 @theodorenottswifeyy @nayveetbhh

#slytherin boys #theodore nott #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #harry potter universe #spotify #Spotify

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brightlight-dazzlingeyes · 2 days ago

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out of my league | pedri gonzalez

🎓 synopsis: You got into college hoping to reinvent yourself, to leave the “loser” label behind. But months in and nothing’s changed – then you see him. Pedri González, the guy who couldn’t be more out of your reach. You’re sure he’ll never notice you, but maybe, just maybe, you two have more in common than you realized. And maybe, just maybe, he’s been looking your way too. tags: self-doubt, nerd and jock trope, love triangle, you're not like other girls, mutual pining. (written in 2nd person but no mention of yn) | (around 3.8k words) | (and, yes, i made i playlist for a one shot, here you go)

part 1

You walk into the lecture hall, shifting your weight from foot to foot, clutching your bag strap tightly. Students swarm in around you, talking, familiar voices calling out to each other, laughter echoing off the walls. You scan the seats, looking for an empty spot – but, more importantly, looking for an empty spot where it might be easy to casually say hi to someone, where you might manage to start up a conversation without feeling like you’re forcing it.

No luck. Everyone else seems to have a seat next to someone they know, pairs and small groups filling up rows, bags and books claiming seats before you get a chance to. Finally, you slip into a seat near the back, opening your notebook and hoping that, if nothing else, maybe the professor will start early and save you from the heavy silence between you and everyone else around.

Class begins, and you make yourself busy with notes, trying to ignore how easily the others settle in. You catch part of the conversations: plans to go out, complaining about an exam, and one girl a few seats over talking about her internship in a confident voice that makes you feel smaller somehow.

It’s silly, childish even, to still be waiting for something to change, still half-hoping someone might come along and say, “Hey, you look like you’re new here,” or “We’re grabbing coffee after this, wanna join?” But you know better – things like that won’t happen for you. So, after class, you head to the café down the street, at least there you can sit alone in peace.

As you order your coffee, you try to shake off the familiar feeling of disappointment, reminding yourself that college isn’t some high school movie where everything magically falls into place. It’ll come with time, you tell yourself.

You take your coffee to a small table near the window, trying to focus on the hum of conversation around you rather than your own thoughts. Then, out of nowhere, you notice him.

Pedri.

You’ve seen him before, of course. His face practically wallpapered half the university’s Instagram page. Pedri González, the football prodigy, popular on campus with that effortless charm. Today, he’s leaning against a counter, his order in hand, scrolling through his phone. He’s so close you almost look away instinctively, but something keeps your eyes on him – maybe the way he seems so at ease, so comfortable in a way you can’t seem to find for yourself.

And just as you think that, he glances up, catching your eye. A flicker of recognition crosses his face, and for a split second, you swear there’s something like a smile directed right at you.

You suddenly hear a voice from behind – high-pitched, bubbly, and unmistakably familiar. Melanie, his influencer girlfriend with the flawless face and perfect body, skips up to Pedri with such an enthusiasm that it makes your stomach twist.

“Pedri!” she squeals, throwing her arms around his neck. He looks a bit startled at first, but then his expression softens, and he wraps an arm around her, shifting his coffee to avoid spilling it. “I’m holding coffee,” he laughs, his voice low and easy. “Calm down.”

She pouts, tugging at his sleeve in an exaggerated, cutesy way, her voice taking on a pitch that gets on your nerves. “You didn’t wait for me!” she says, drawing out the words with a look of playful hurt. Her expression is almost too perfect, like she’s used to performing for an audience – and for all you know, she might be.

Pedri just shakes his head, still smiling. “Alright, alright, next time I’ll wait,” he says, clearly charmed. That gentle look in his eyes makes your heart sink. Here he is, so warm and patient with her, someone who seems worlds apart from you.

You look down at your coffee, suddenly feeling invisible again. You decide to make your way to the door, head down, hoping to slip out of the café without a second look from anyone. It shouldn't be too difficult. But in your haste, your bag catches on the edge of a chair, and you feel a sting as something sharp nicks your finger. You wince, glancing at the tiny cut forming on the tip of your finger, and that’s when you hear her voice again.

“Oh my god, are you okay, honey?” Melanie’s voice rings out, unexpectedly dripping with concern. You look up, realizing that she’s talking to you.

“Oh! Uh, yeah, yes,” you stammer, raising your hand to show her the barely-there cut. “It was just… a tiny cut. Really, it’s nothing. But thanks for asking.”

Pedri’s face shifts from curious to concerned as he sets his coffee down and digs around in his pocket. “Hey, hey,” he says as he pulls out a small band-aid and holds it up with a smile. “Don’t worry, I got you.”

He comes closer and carefully grabs your injured finger. His hands are warm, and he’s so close that you can smell the faint hint of his cologne. Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire. You try not to make eye contact, so you look up at Melanie instead – only to find her lips pressed into a tight line, her eyes narrowed. She looks absolutely furious.

You pull your hand back as soon as he finishes, tucking it away like it’s something you shouldn’t have shared. Your heart is pounding, and for reasons you can’t quite understand, you feel a knot of nerves in your stomach.

“Umm, thanks,” you say, glancing from Pedri to Melanie and back again. “I… yeah, okay. Well, bye then.”

Without waiting for either of them to respond, you spin on your heel and head for the door, practically stumbling over yourself in your rush to leave.

part 2

It happens one afternoon when you’re at the library, tucked away in a corner, lost in your notes. You’re not really expecting anything – it’s just a quiet day like any other. You’ve been at it for hours, and it’s one of those days where everything feels like it’s blurring together – but you need to keep going. Finals are coming up, and organic chemistry isn’t about to let you off easy.

In front of you, a group of students has taken up a whole table, their textbooks and notebooks sprawled across the surface. You’re aware of a little rustling, some light laughter, then whispers that rise just enough for you to catch a few words.

“Just ask her!” one of them says, and you notice a nudge from one person to the next, like a gentle push to do something. You ignore it, but then, after a pause, you hear a voice close by.

“Hey.”

You glance up, slightly startled, and there’s Alexia standing next to you. You recognize her from thermodynamics – she’s that person who always seems to understand things when the rest of you is lost. You didn’t think she’d remember you, let alone approach you.

“Oh, hi,” you manage, trying not to sound as surprised as you feel.

“We’re, uh, actually about to grab lunch,” she says, gesturing to the group sitting around the table. “And… well, we were wondering if you wanted to come with us?”

You look over and realize that the rest of the group is watching with interest.

“Oh… sure, that sounds nice,” you say.

The next thing you know, you’re sitting in a little restaurant, the sound of salsa music filling the air and the table scattered with plates of tacos, chips, and guacamole. You’re squeezing around a table just big enough for the six of you.

“So, did anyone actually get the last question on the problem set?” Diego asks, looking around the table.

“Don’t even talk to me about that one,” Ana groans, reaching for a chip. “They’re just trying to mess with us. Like, sure, a totally realistic scenario in the real world, right?”

Arthur smirks, shaking his head. “Weak. I got it. Want me to explain?”

“Oh, please, Mr. I-Got-It-On-The-Fifth-Try,” Andrés scoffs. “Don’t act like you didn’t guess half of it.”

Laughter rises around the table, and you catch Alexia rolling her eyes at Arthur. “He totally guessed,” she whispers, leaning in, and you smile, realizing you’re laughing too, genuinely. There’s no awkwardness, no need to carefully plan out every word.

Then Alexia groans beside you, rolling her eyes. "Ugh, the most annoying people on campus just walked in."

You follow her gaze and spot Pedri and his friends entering the restaurant, laughing loudly and drawing attention, moving with confidence.

"Oh, do you mean the most famous?" Ana teases, which sets off a laughter around the table. They’re clearly all in on the joke, sharing knowing glances.

You feel your cheeks warm, trying to hide that you're blushing. Just a few hours ago, the thought of being in that group had felt like the ultimate goal, some idealized version of what college life should be. You’d thought everything would change, that you’d somehow become a different person overnight. Now, you look at them again, at their loud voices and carefree attitude, and something about it feels... less shiny. Less like what you actually need.

This time, he doesn’t look at you. Pedri and his friends settle at a table on the other side of the restaurant. It’s strange – you’re both here, sharing the same space, yet you might as well be in different worlds.

For the first time, it doesn’t bother you. There’s a quiet satisfaction in knowing that you don’t need to be over there, part of his world, to feel like you belong. You turn back to your own table, the conversation picks up right where it left off, and you dive back in, laughing along, feeling more settled than you ever imagined you would.

part 3

You’re standing in Ana and Alexia’s tiny dorm room, surrounded by piles of clothes, makeup scattered across every available surface. Alexia’s leaning in close, brushing eyeshadow onto your eyelids while Ana adjusts the straps of her dress on your shoulders. The room feels so cramped, and your pulse is racing – this party is supposed to be huge, half the campus will be there, and just thinking about it makes you feel like you’re looking down the edge of a cliff. Your palms are clammy, and every now and then, you catch yourself wondering if maybe you should back out.

When Alexia pulls away to get a good look, you finally muster up the courage to ask, "Do I look... pretty?" The words come out quieter than you intended.

Alexia squints at you, considering. "What? Yeah, of course! Maybe…” She leans closer, tapping her chin, “maybe just take your glasses off."

Ana reaches over, carefully slipping them off, and both of them stare at you. Your heart skips a beat. Why did they pause like that? Why haven’t they said anything?

“Actually, you know what,” Ana says, laughing as she slides your glasses back on. “Let’s keep them on.”

Your stomach drops, and you immediately start overthinking. Does that mean you look… weird without them? That the glasses are hiding something? You’re seconds away from spiraling when Ana laughs again, picking up on your panic.

“No, no, it’s not that! Really!” she says, putting a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “I just think the glasses suit you. They make you look like… you, you know?”

You take a breath, looking at yourself in the mirror. “Sometimes, I feel like people don’t even look at my face,” you say quietly, almost more to yourself than to them. “Like… am I ugly or something? Just be honest.”

Alexia shakes her head, leaning in with a smirk. “The problem is not that you’re ugly. Because listen – you’re not.” She tries to keep a straight face but can’t hold back a grin. “It’s just… you have this really scary resting face. Honestly, it took us months to gather up the courage to talk to you. You looked like a total psycho!”

Your jaw drops, and then Ana starts giggling, and before you know it, all three of you are laughing so hard you’re practically gasping for air.

By the time you and your friends arrive, the place is buzzing – every corner packed with groups chatting, laughing, flirting, leaning close in half-drunken conversations, snapping selfies that will likely look more like a blur tomorrow. It's surreal, looking out over the room and recognizing faces – people you've seen day after day in the library or sitting across from you in classes.

You glance over at Alexia, who’s already chatting with Ana, while Diego and Andrés are joking around, nudging each other, making it look like they’ve been friends for years. It feels good – safe, even – knowing you're with people who know your quirks and still want you here.

For a second, you catch sight of Pedri and his friends across the room. They’re their own universe, laughing, leaning back casually against the wall, looking like they know everyone and everything.

The music grows louder, bass pulsing through the floor, and after a few songs and a couple of drinks, the air feels thick, almost stifling. You slip out onto the balcony, breathing in the cool night air, grateful for the silence.

A few moments later, you hear footsteps. When you turn, Pedri is standing there, leaning against the doorframe with that familiar half-smile.

“Hey! Finger-cut girl! Escaping too?” he says, nodding back toward the chaos inside.

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, needed a break. It’s… intense in there.”

He steps forward, looking out over the city lights beyond. “It’s kind of crazy, all this,” he says, gesturing toward the noise and chaos inside. “Sometimes I just want to get away for a while, you know?”

You blink, caught off guard by the depth of his words. You’re both a bit tipsy, sure, but it doesn’t feel like enough to explain why he’s opening up like this to you. It’s almost… intentional.

You want to keep the conversation going, to say something meaningful back. Tonight, you’re really trying to be friendly, trying to bridge that gap that always feels so hard to cross. But it’s not easy for you. It’s like something physically tightens in your chest whenever you’re around people – every word feels like you’re tiptoeing on the edge of saying too much.

Still, you take a breath, gathering the nerve to open up, even if it’s just a little. “I get it,” you say, surprised at how steady your voice sounds. “Sometimes it feels like everything’s moving too fast, and you’re just… stuck, trying to catch up.”

He looks at you like he’s really hearing what you’re saying. His expression softens, and the usual cockiness in his eyes is replaced with something quieter.

He agrees, “Exactly.”

For a moment, you both stand there, the noise and music from inside a distant hum. Then he leans on the railing beside you.

“You look different tonight,” he says, his voice lower, almost as if he’s sharing a secret. “Good different.”

You roll your eyes, trying to hide how much his words make you blush. “It’s just makeup and a nice dress.”

He shakes his head, his eyes still on you. “No, it’s more than that. You look… happy.”

You’re not sure how to respond, caught between laughing it off and letting his words sink in. You look up, meeting his gaze, and suddenly the closeness between you feels electric. His eyes flicker from your face to your lips, and for a heartbeat, you’re frozen, feeling that rush of anticipation.

There’s a pause as you both just look at each other, and in the dim light, you notice something unexpected – he’s actually nervous. The way he glances down at his hands, how he shifts slightly, like he’s unsure of himself.

Your heartbeat picks up as he leans in, his breath warm against your cheek. When his lips finally meet yours, it’s gentle at first, tentative, like he’s testing the waters, waiting to see if you’ll pull away. But you don’t. Instead, you let yourself sink into it.

Just as you’re starting to forget where you are, his hand slides down your back, fingers trailing lower, and it’s like a switch flips. You pull back, reality rushing back in as you catch your breath, and he looks at you, confused.

You look down, noticing your lipstick, or, well, Alexia’s lipstick smudged on his lips, “You have a girlfriend,” you say, your voice a mix of anger and disbelief. “Why would you do this?”

He hesitates. “I don’t. Not anymore.”

“Since when?”

“Uhmm… listen, we’re about to break up. Any day now. I’m just trying to find the right time.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, stepping back.

He sighs, like he knows how this sounds. “She kisses other guys too, it’s fine, we have an open relationship.”

You fold your arms, skeptical. “Okay… maybe start with that next time. I still don’t feel like I can trust you, and I’m pretty sure she hates me. Either way, I don’t want any drama.”

Pedri laughs, trying to look nonchalant. “Drama? Me? I’m the chillest. There’s no drama with me.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You just told me you’re in the middle of breaking up, and I don’t even know what that means.”

He rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. “Okay, okay, I get it. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Well, I like thinking,” you say, your voice sharper than you intended. “You should try it. It’s really good – it lowers your chances of hurting people.”

Pedri opens his mouth, maybe to defend himself, but instead, he just nods, an apology in his eyes. And though you can see that part of him wants to win you over, there’s a quiet recognition there too. He knows he messed up. The music shifts, someone calls your name, and before either of you can say anything more, you turn and walk back into the noise, leaving him standing there.

part 4

It’s a random Tuesday when you find yourself in a situation straight out of a cheap comedy. You’re just minding your business, walking back to your dorm with an armful of snacks you impulsively bought after a long day of exams. But right as you turn the corner of the hallway, your foot catches on a loose bit of carpet. In an effort to keep from falling, you stumble forward, dropping your snacks everywhere – chips and candy scattering across the floor like confetti.

As you scramble to gather everything, trying not to laugh at your own clumsiness, you realize you’re not alone. Just around the corner, you hear voices. You freeze, quickly recognizing one of them as Pedri’s. And the other... Melanie.

You lean down, staying out of sight and pretending to reach for a stray bag of chips, hoping to avoid drawing attention. But as their conversation grows louder, your curiosity gets the best of you.

“You don’t understand,” Melanie’s voice is strained, dripping with frustration. “We have something big, something real. We’re building a future here!”

Pedri sighs, his tone more tired than angry. “Be honest with me – are you even still in love with me?”

There’s a beat of silence, followed by her dismissive laugh. “This is bigger than some little crush, Pedri. We have stability. What kind of future do you have with her? You two have absolutely nothing in common!”

You bite your lip, cheeks heating up. Could they be talking about you? You’d get up and leave if you didn’t feel like you’d definitely be noticed now. You’re basically a hostage in your own hallway.

Pedri’s voice grows firmer. “This isn’t about her. It’s about us, Mel.”

She scoffs, and you can practically hear her rolling her eyes. “You two aren’t going to last a month. Just wait. You’ll come crawling back to me.”

At that, she storms off, heels clicking sharply. Pedri steps out from behind the corner a moment later and catches sight of you sitting there, wide-eyed and completely flustered, with a bag of chips crushed in your hand. There’s a split second of mutual shock before he bursts out laughing.

“Oh god,” you mumble, utterly mortified as you scramble to stand. “I swear I wasn’t eavesdropping. I… I was just… my snacks…”

Pedri grins, shaking his head. “You know, I think this might be the best thing that’s happened all day.”

He holds out his hand to help you up. “Need a hand with that?”

You take his hand, still flustered but grateful. As he helps you gather up the rest of your snacks, you both start walking down the hallway toward your dorm room. It feels easy – surprisingly comfortable, considering the circumstances. The small talk flows without much effort, and Pedri seems genuinely happy to be talking to you.

“So, what’s your course again?” he asks, glancing over at you with that warm smile that makes you a little nervous.

“I’m studying chemical engineering,” you say, trying to sound confident, even though you’re still a bit flustered from your earlier clumsiness.

Pedri raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “Oh, so you’re smart, smart, huh?” he says with a grin. “I didn’t take you for a genius.”

You laugh, a bit shy but glad he’s not being too serious. “Well, I’m smart in the sense that I know how to memorize a bunch of formulas. I wouldn’t call it genius-level.”

He chuckles, clearly impressed. “I don’t know. Sounds pretty smart to me.”

You shrug, glancing at the floor. “Well, I know, it sounds super boring, but I kind of like it. I guess I’m just really into figuring out how stuff works.”

Pedri looks amused. “So you’re, like, a chemical wizard, huh?”

“Something like that,” you joke, trying to downplay it.

"So..." Pedri seems to want to start a serious conversation, looking at you with a slightly hesitant expression. "About what you heard... and about the kiss..."

You immediately shake your head, feeling your heart race. "We don't have to talk about any of it. Really."

Pedri pauses, confusion flickering on his face, as if he’s hurt by your response. "Are you sure?"

You look at him, trying to keep a straight face. "I have social anxiety."

He stares at you for a moment. "You seem fine talking to me."

You sigh dramatically, though you can’t quite hide the smile tugging at your lips. "I'm freaking out inside, trust me."

"That's okay," he says, his tone softening. "Alright, then maybe we can talk about other stuff? Maybe I can walk you to your room again some other times? What about that?"

You think for a second, still a little unsure but feeling the warmth of his easy-going demeanor. "Umm... yeah. Other stuff sounds nice. Walking sounds... okay."

Pedri raises an eyebrow, clearly teasing now but with a playful glint in his eye. "Can you handle walking and talking?"

You pause for a beat, then nod with a little more confidence than you actually feel. "I can handle!"

#pedri #pedri gonzalez #football fanfic #pedri x reader #pedri x you #pedri imagine #football imagine #brightlightwrites

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