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delirious-donna · 2 days ago

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Kento finds your journal and vows to return it, but not before he accidentally sneaks a peek… or, the time he read that you wanted to climb him like a tree.

Oh fuck - no! No no no. Please don’t have read it. I’ll do all my weekend chores rather than playing videogames and I’ll even unpack that final box that has been sitting in the spare room if you’ll do me this one solid favour.

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

tw: embarrassing situations, teacher Kento and teacher reader, thigh riding, use of pet names (darling and sweetheart), dirty talk, Kento being more forward than usual, rewrite of an old story (it’s better now, promise), brief appearance of Satoru

The notebook caught his eye; magenta in colour, clearly well-thumbed and definitely not meant to be here, in the teacher’s lounge. He rolled his neck against the uncomfortably lumpy couch until the cracking noise of stiff joints popping made him wince.

With a resigned grunt, Kento sat forward and glanced at his watch.

His next class was due to begin in ten minutes and if he were honest, he felt rather unmotivated to inspire the next generation on this particular day, a feeling that was becoming painfully regular. Fixing the knot of his tie, which he had loosened upon entering the lounge, he lamented on how every day seemed to bleed into each other.

It had been so stiflingly long since anything new or of interest had occurred and he was starting to feel drained from the mundane, walking through each day like a zombie. Heaven help him, it was a frighteningly familiar feeling.

On his way towards the door, he picked up the offending notebook that was stuck between the couch cushions and glanced at it curiously. Your name was emblazoned on the front cover, written in glittery silver ink. Nanami passed a finger over the lettering, his lips tilting into a thin smile at how irreverent it appeared.

He knew you were a few years younger than he was, that you had only become a teacher at the start of this academic year after a sudden change in career, and to say you were a little shy would be a gross understatement. Kento could probably count the times you had spoken to him on one hand, and each one had been a rushed experience, as if you couldn’t wait to retreat from his presence–was he really that intimidating?

At that rather depressing thought, he resumed walking, intent on delivering your notebook before arriving at his own classroom to greet his darling little bastards charges for the afternoon lecture.

Of course, things would never be that simple, nor straightforward when you worked alongside Satoru Gojo.

The white-haired whirlwind hurtled into him as soon as he ventured into the hall. A barking laugh bounced off the walls as Gojo clapped him heartily on the back and effectively knocked the notebook from his grasp to flutter to the floor.

“Ah, Nanami-san, just the man I was looking for,” he thundered. “Could you do your bestest friend in the whole world a favour?”

“If you are referring to yourself with that sentiment, Gojo, then the answer is of course, no.”

Satoru pouted, Kento grimaced.

Celestial blue eyes peered over the rim of his round sunglasses whilst Kento bent to retrieve the book that had tumbled out of his hands and was now spread open at his feet. His eyes narrowed on the hastily scrawled text that he couldn’t quite make out, but… that was his name that he was staring at.

He was aware that Satoru was still talking, the man would continue to ramble away to himself forever, but Kento held his hand aloft to cease the incessant drone.

A strange, but not unpleasant heat coursed through his veins, and something he hadn’t felt in the longest time stirred in his chest. The wild thump of his heart drowned out his pesky colleague’s yammering as he was finally able to read the line of text that referred to him. A sentence that you had hastily scrawled and then ringed again and again with a fluffy cloud border.

Why does Nanami-san have to be so goddamn big and sexy? What I wouldn’t give to climb him like a tree…

He was sure that he could feel the warmth spread up his neck, his collar suddenly too tight, and his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed the runny saliva pooling inside his mouth.

It would be a lie to say he hadn’t admired you, although always from afar. He knew he wasn’t the most social of men, a sentiment his annoying friend constantly reminded him of. Added to the fact that Kento had been sure you were terrified of him, and he had no intention of making you feel uncomfortable, he kept his distance and his daydreaming to himself and the privacy of his bedroom and shower.

Only now, did he wonder if that discomfort had been something else entirely…

“Will you do it?” Satoru asked, shaking his arms with his long spindly fingers and offering a wide cocky smile.

“I wasn’t listening, and no. I’m going to be busy,” he replied, brushing his fellow teacher’s hand from his forearms and pushing past him to his classroom.

He could care less for the deflated look that the snowy-haired menace threw over his shoulder, there were more important matters on his mind and a knowing smirk curved his lips. The smirk was mirrored by the very man he gave his back to, and that was just fine in his book.

No longer did he detour to return the notebook. Oh no--he’d deliver it back to you safe and sound once the day was over and everyone else had cleared out.

It had been a long day. A tiring one too, and the prospect of spending your precious evening hours behind your desk marking exams and writing assignment commentary was unwelcome.

As if the universe could hear your lament, they sent you a curve ball you could never see coming…

A determined knock shook you from your thoughts. The pen in your hand fell to the desk at the same moment you leaned back in your chair, inviting your unexpected visitor to enter.

Your mouth ran dry as the very man you least expected to be calling in on you, walked inside. Least expected but most wanted, secretly, of course. There was no way you were earning yourself a reputation for flirting with your colleagues, even if he was so painfully handsome it made you chew the insides of your cheeks every time you were in his presence. Not because you were shy, because you were a little, but because you didn’t trust what might come out of your mouth! Best to keep those thoughts inside your head where they were safe.

Kento turned to shut the door, the lock flicking silently into place so as to avoid any embarrassing interruptions, before he bowed his head in greeting.

“Nanami-san, what can I do for you?” you asked, impressed that you had managed to speak without tripping over your words. It was certainly an improvement on previous attempts.

It was near impossible not to admire him as he stood near the back of the class. The collar of his azure dress shirt had been loosened, the tie askew as if he had been pulling at them both with insistent fingers. Fingers that were currently drumming against the taut muscles of his forearms. There was something about a man with his sleeves rolled to the elbows that never failed to send you into a feral kind of heat, and right now was no different.

Why did he have to look so downright tantalising? Why did your thighs have to clench together like you were some horny beast in an actual heat?

The aloof expression, the way that he seemed to caress you with his hazel eyes and the simple pleasure of how big he was. At the end of the day, you were no better than an animal, and you animal brain was saying that big was good. Big would rock your world given the chance.

“I found something that belongs to you and thought I should return it,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Oh? That’s kind of you, what is it?”

You wondered what he could have found, mentally scanning your memory of something you might have misplaced or been looking for. Standing, you took two steps forward but froze in place at the sight of your personal notebook held in his large hand. Surely your heart had seized in your chest, it certainly felt like it had.

Your eyes widened, looking from the notebook to his face and back again. For a second you thought your silent pleas had been answered, but when had life ever been so benevolent to you before? Kento winked almost imperceptibly, and you wished that a sink hole would form beneath your feet to save you from this mortification.

Heat rose to your cheeks in rushing waves. You swayed unsteadily on the spot with your hand outstretched for the book, desperate for some distance but needing the offending item back in your possession.

Kento chuckled and the deep baritone rumble felt as if the sound resonated within your own body. It stroked at you with exploratory phantom touches although he hadn’t moved. Your every muscle tightened whilst you waited for him to hand over the notebook that held some of your wildest fantasies.

When he held it over his head instead of depositing it into your awaiting sweaty paws, you swore it felt like the air was sucked from the room. It seemed like he had read a very specific piece of information, and you would die of embarrassment.

“I suggest…” he drawled almost lazily. “That if you want it back, you best climb me for it.”

“You—you weren’t meant to read that,” you whispered, staring into the depths of the floor.

A pair of sturdy but unassuming boots came into view. You frowned, surprised.

Two fingers fit beneath your chin and raised your head up to meet his gaze. There was a prominent frown between his eyes that hadn’t been there seconds prior, and you couldn’t help but admire his sharply angular face even if you were doing your best to look anywhere but into his eyes.

“I apologise… perhaps that was a bit too forward. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but you see... I’ve thought about you a lot and not just because I found your notebook? Journal? Doesn’t matter.” Kento exhaled through his nose, jaw tightening. “You think I’m big? I don’t see it myself, but then I was never my best critic.”

You nodded in affirmation, where was the point in denying it now? His eyes softened, crinkles forming in the outer corners whilst his thumb lightly grazed your jaw. Roasted coffee grounds and notes of sandalwood invaded your nose as his head bent lower, towards your ear.

“Then I will repeat myself only once, sweetheart, climb me if you want it back.”

And so, you did.

You climbed him like a feral little animal.

You reached the offending notebook and hurled it to the floor without a second thought. His laughter was warm and the most boisterous you had heard from him. It made you follow through with your impulse to hook your arms around his strong neck, fingers curling into the rough undercut at his nape. Your legs were quick to follow, circling his waist until your entire front rocked into the wall of muscles that was his body.

“Tell me, what else have you put in that saucy little journal about me, hm?”

“You didn’t read it all?” you asked, almost shocked at his level of restraint if it were true.

Kento shook his head, and you believed him. He wasn’t one for lying. “I wanted to hear them from your mouth.”

“Oh… that’s… mm. Anyone ever told you that you’re as perfect as a fictional man, preferably one created by a woman? Don’t answer that,” you clamoured, pressing your hand across his mouth as it stretched open to reply.

“There’s—uh—this one thing.” You nudged the tip of his nose with yours, moving to speak directly into his ear.

Kento’s breath caught in his throat as you whispered about getting off on his thigh, his hold at your waist, which has stayed appropriate until then, tightened and moved towards your backside—squeezing.

With you still attached to him like a koala, he seated himself on the edge of your desk, lowering you until you were spread over one of his incredibly thick thighs. Your skirt bunched around your middle to accommodate the position as his expansive palms wandered your sides, pawing at your hips and palming your ass with a groan.

In no time at all he was dragging you along the length of his thigh. Your underwear was ruined by this point, your clit throbbed from the friction, the seam of yours and his clothing catching you in deliciously new ways and you still hadn’t kissed him.

You remedied this terrible oversight with enthusiasm, delighting when he startled at your forwardness before he melted, shoulders sagging. It was everything and more. No fantasy could live up to the reality. Kento kissed softly, thoroughly. Whilst he continued to lead the rhythm of your body as you rode his thigh, he was more than happy to let you lead here.

His mouth was surprisingly hot for a man who always seemed to remain cool and composed, a deep groan rumbled in his throat when you curled around his tongue and sucked on the warm, wet muscle. The warmly spiced scent and taste of Kento filled your lungs and evaporated any sense of reason you might have had about making out with a fellow teacher in your classroom. It didn’t matter. Only this mattered.

“Feel good?” he asked as you parted for much-needed air. His rough fingers gripped into the fat of your behind, reaching beneath the hem of your skirt to bunch the cotton of your underwear until he was forcing the material between your slick pussy lips.

You nodded enthusiastically, drawing his lower lip into your mouth and sucking on the tender flesh in earnest. Kento was manhandling you in a way that would make any staunch feminist blanch, but it was exactly what you wanted, exactly what you needed.

“You’re making a mess on me, darling.”

“So, I’m you’re darling, am I?” You quipped back despite sounding out of breath. He was right about the mess, there was an embarrassingly long wet streak on his tailored slacks from being manipulated along his thigh. You were fucking yourself against the strong muscles that flexed beneath you and leaving the evidence for anyone to see.

“I think I’d like that,” he admitted with a hum, planting kisses to your neck and collarbone.

Your orgasm was coming in fast; the combination of the friction against your clenching cunt, the large palms gripping into your ass as if he owned it and his delicious mouth teasing your skin was speeding you towards the finish line in haste. His admittance that he might like some kind of relationship with you was the final nail in your coffin, so to speak.

“Nanami-san!”

Blond hair fell into your vision, urgent lips pressing open-mouthed kisses to your cleavage and the swell of your breasts. His tongue flickered at your flesh, warming you up before sucking possessive purple bruises that would be hard to explain later.

“Kento,” he breathed against your collarbone, “call me Kento, my darling.”

Gods, could he be any more perfect? It was as if he knew exactly what to do and say to set you off like a firecracker!

You shrieked in surprise when Kento lifted you like you weighed nothing—you most definitely did not weigh nothing. He held you tight as he turned your body so your back was flush with his chest, rearranging you over his broad thigh once more but this time you could feel the prod of his prominent erection at the outside of your hip. It was thick and imposing, distracting but only in that you wondered what it would look like, feel like—in your hand and stretching your walls.

“Go on, be a good girl and get yourself off on my thigh,” he cooed, nipping at your earlobe.

Kento grabbed at your breasts, squeezing the doughy mounds between his fingers whilst you rode his thigh to completion, pinching you through lace and chiffon. The orgasm that hit was staggering; it stole the air from your lungs, the equilibrium of your body and the sight from your eyes.

White lights pulsed behind your eyelids as you gushed like a surging waterfall over his trousers, ruining your underwear and skirt in the process. It would be embarrassing if it wasn't for the primal-sound growl that emanated from his chest. The almost bestial sounding war cry that made you shiver whilst you floated back down from ecstasy.

“Atta girl. There it is. Mhm, so good for me. So receptive. Can I take you home?” Kento asked, his voice thick and strained with unspoken emotion. “Cause I think it’s my turn now, and I can't wait to see how goddamn perfect you’re gonna look taking my cock.”

You smiled, drunk on the bliss. “Sure thing, big boy, but let’s not make this our get together story for the grandkids, yeah?”

You were so glad he found your notebook, even if you had no idea that it was Satoru Gojo that you needed to thank in the first place...

#delirious writes #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #kento x reader #kento smut #jujutsu kaisen smut

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mbsneur · 3 days ago

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Long time no see

Alexia Putellas x Reader

@melissabarreraswife

Summary: Alexia has not been home for a long time, and she brings you a present that you will surely be happy about

warnings: Smut18+ minors DNI, Cunnilingus, strap using

A/n : my requests are open for wishes

My Masterlist / more from Alexia

A Thursday evening in Barcelona over a whole week had passed when Alexia went to the national team

The apartment was quieter than usual, the scent of Alexia's favorite detergent and the smell of the warm kitchen floated in the air from the small room covering the cloudy weather outside.

You were happy to see Alexia again, the last days had been long without seeing her smile. The long conversations after training weren't the same as being alone without the familiar face you used to see every morning.

The pot on the stove blew softly in the air as you continued stirring you thought about cooking Alexia's favorite meal, fresh pasta with a homemade tomato sauce it has become a little ritual of yours that you always cook her one of her favorite meals after long trips or training.

After a while, you heard footsteps outside the door a key turned in the keyhole. The familiar sound of Alexia's boots came into the room, a broad smile spread across your lips and your eyes widened as you set the spoon down and looked towards the door.

Your heart beats faster as you look into her brown-green eyes. A smile stretches across her face “Hola, guapa” she calls across the room as she closes the door behind her. You sprint towards her and land directly in her wide-open arms.

Your face buried in her neck as you rub against it you pick up the smell of her freshly washed hair. She pulls you tighter against her front "Did you miss me?" she asks with a smile and tries to push herself away from you so she can look at you, but you press her tighter against you. She lets out a little laugh "So that's a yes?” she adds, closing her arms tighter around your hips.

Alexia takes a deep breath as she leans into your embrace, her hands gently stroking over your back and you feel how you both relax against each other "I also missed you, Bonita" she whispers and her voice has a calming effect. A little smile is reflected in your eyes as you pull her into a warm kiss. Her hands are still on your back and your hands are slung around her neck.

Your lips lock as if you hadn't seen each other for years. You deepen your kiss, and she pushes away from you and looks directly into your eyes "I've got a surprise for you" she says and you slightly tilt your head "May I see them now or must I wait until Christmas?” you joke, and she taps your bottom "You will get your surprise today but for now I smell something good. You have cooked something for me?” she questions and gently detaches herself from your body.

She slides over to the stove and takes a look in the pot "It smells heavenly" she says with raised eyebrows, you smile at her words and go over to the cupboard to take two plates out "Let me set the table since you have cooked", she takes the spoon out of your hand and gives you a quick kiss on the cheek.

When you have prepared the meal, Alexia quickly takes the pot with the noodles and carries it to the table. She taste tests the sauce after you.

You talked about everything possible that happened in the week.

"You know I love football but I’m always looking forward to coming back to you after weeks since which I have only slept in hotels and stood on the field," says Alexia taking a bite of the food.

"it was quiet here without you," you say and smile at her. "I missed you before, I finally called the janitor so now our heating is fixed," you say, laughing and Alexia chuckles also.

She reached out her hand to grab yours.” I mean it seriously, whenever you are not there it feels like a part of me is missing," you say and wrap your hand around hers.

The silence that followed was not unpleasant, just familiar before Alexia pulled her hand back to eat a spoonful of her noodles.

The time passed when you were finished with the dinner. You had cleared the table, and you wanted to wash the dishes but Alexia kept you from it "Put it here, let’s do that tomorrow morning I still have a surprise for you" she whispered and hugged you from behind. Her head rests on your shoulder as you drop against her.

You nod slightly and notice how Alexia’s arms loosen up "So you sit on the couch and I will quickly go to my suitcase and I’ll be with you in a minute," she says as she rushes into the hallway. You run to the couch and make yourself comfortable on the pillow.

Alexia comes back with a big black casket she looks at you slightly nervously and watches any reaction you make. Your stomach tightens as Alexia comes closer, she sits down directly opposite of you, her back leaning against a pile of cushions, her eyes fixed on yours as she smirks at you.

“it's just a little something but I'm sure you'll be happy about it,” she says proudly as her shoulders rise. She holds out the box to you and you take it nervously in your hands. It is well wrapped with a bow around it “What did I do to deserve this, Ale?”, you ask in admiration as you look at her. “I bought it when I was traveling alone in Madrid, it's just a little something”, she says and shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly. You slowly open the bow and pull the lid off the box. Alexia’s cheeks are now deep red, you notice her nervous demeanor before your gaze turns back to the black box. You see a white velvet bag and your hands start to sweat as you take the gift out.

You open the velvet bag and pull out a new strap, a big one, probably the biggest one you have now. Your jaw drops and your pupils widen as you look up at Alexia again.

You waste no second and lean in immediately to kiss her hard. Your tongue slides into her mouth and it rolls against hers. Your lips become stronger against Alexia’s and her hands find their way to your ass. Your body is tense after a few seconds."I can’t wait to ruin you with this baby", she whispers and nudges her nose. Your lips are wet and red from your previous kiss."Ale, now please" you say to her and your lips meet hers again. This time she gets up and tries with all her might to hover over you. Her hands explore your body as if it’s the first time. "Right here, right now?" she asks with a curved eyebrow and gently strokes over your thighs."Yes right there, right there" you whisper, gasping as you try to push her hands closer to your center with your thighs.

She kisses you further your kisses are all mixed up and wet these obscene noises that you give off are unmistakable "Ale please" you moan and try to rub yourself on Alexia’s thigh.

She bites on your lower lip which makes you shudder. Your hands clasp tightly around her neck to press closer "Please, Ale, I haven’t had you in so long" you moan and you beg again. Your breath trembling as Alexia’s knee presses deeper against your pussy

"Use your pretty mouth baby say what you need" she whimpers as she looks into your radiant eyes. Alexia looks at you, her eyes full of desire for you with lust that she could not hide for so long.

"Alexia, fuck me" you weep and moan, waiting for some kind of reaction. She gets up quickly and removes her clothes, she has some bruises from her training. Her shiny tight skin sticks out immediately which makes you moan again. "Take off your clothes," Alexia demands.

Your hands desperately try to grab her body to speed up the whole thing but Alexia doesn’t go for it. She’s relaxed as she always is. "Give me your gift" She smiles and points in the direction of the silk bag. You take it and put it in her stretched hands immediately.

She pulls the harness over her hips and you start to whine on the spot. You feel like you almost explode so desperately for your long-awaited orgasm. She bends down to you, her silicone cock rubs the inside of your thighs and her lips find their way to your hard nipples. She sucks vigorously as she grabs your twist to bring down your head.

Your fingers hang in her blonde hair as a whine comes from your lips. As she takes the other nipple firmly in her hand, she teases every inch of it as the strap presses against your front side. Your hard nipple touches her fingertips. She takes your breast in her mouth and moans against your nipple.

She starts to care for the other nipple as her tongue snaps against it “Fuck Ale, please do something" you whine and press her head further down but she just hums against you and continues her work. With a loud plop, she lets go of your nipple and looks up at you, her eyes are big. She looks so horny, lips swollen just like your nipple.

She looks into your ruddy face. Your eyes are also full of desire "You make me crazy you know" she says breathlessly as she pierces her fingernails into your ribs which makes you squeal slightly. Her tongue drives a long strip over your belly she spreads your legs further apart to detect your smell.

"I need you please" you whine and push her against your body. Now her hands have no choice but to leave your ribs. She smiles naughtily as she looks down at your dripping pussy before you have a chance to beg again she shoots out her tongue and licks a long stripe from your entrance to your clitoris.

Only a desperate hum comes from your throat. Her lips close around your clitoris as she starts to suck. You rock against her mouth, her strong arms lie you down. Your thighs and your mouth are wide open when she fucks you with her tongue. Your fingers catch in her hair as you beg for more.

"Give me your fingers Ale," you say as you moan. You buckle against her as one of her arms detaches from your thighs and wanders to your core. Her middle finger teases you easily which makes you babble.

At your next breath, Alexia presses two of her fingers deep into your hole which makes you let out a little scream. She makes her finger curl perfectly against your g spot where her tongue has not yet stopped sucking on your clitoris. Obscene sounds fill your room, the moist noise becomes louder with every push, and this makes you groan.

A wave of lust overcomes you as you let out a pornographic moan. "Oh mierda" you moan and lift your hips against Alexia’s face and try to fuck her face. When you look down you see that her eyes already know each inch of your body. Alexia’s licks at your clitoris become stronger which makes you cry loudly.

This feeling brings you closer to your first orgasm and Alexia feels how tight your hole around her fingers gets "I’m so close fuck" you moan and bend your back again. Your moan gets deeper as you feel your legs turn into jello."Don’t stop I’m gonna come" You moan and your muscles start to tense.

You let it happen and with a loud whine. You tremble on her fingers as you come. She comforts you until you have calmed down completely.

Alexia looks longingly up at you her eyes are glassy and her face looks like she's just had an orgasm her fingers are wet with your juices as she wipes them on your stomach making you wince underneath her.

“I want your cock now” you moan as she gently removes herself from you, causing you to whimper softly.

‘“How bad do you need it?” She taunts and looks down at you, your mouth open in horror “Don't be ashamed I love it when you are such a desperate cock slut” she adds with a grunt “Yes, baby please fuck me” you answer her and moan as she pulls away from you completely.

She now guides the tip of the cock to your entrance you let out a throaty moan as you feel her move it up and down. Another moan escapes you as she pushes the toy into you and lets you adjust before pulling it out and eagerly thrusting her hips forward.

“Mierda” you moan as she starts to pick up a brutal pace your hands clasp around her neck searching for any free flesh for your fingernails to dig into. Red streaks form all over Alexia's back.

“How tight are you mh? Haven’t been fucked for a while? “She asks herself before kissing you and swallowing every little sound you make. You feel the toy stretching you completely and you wrap yourself around it so full she pulls away from you to look down and see how well you're taking her.‘“You’re so pretty you know that?”She gasps as her hips get faster and faster.

She reaches the spot that makes you fidget and squeal. "Can I come, please?" You beg and moan as she goes deeper into you. The clapping echoes through the quiet room."Fuck come for me, Bonita" she stutters and stops. She starts to stretch you open and that’s all you need to get on her cock. Your hips are shaking and Alexia is trying to prolong your orgasm in which her finger finds their way to your clitoris and rubs circles. You scream as your legs cling to her hips and tremble uncontrollably.

Your orgasm overcomes you as she attempts to pull out of you. "Alexia no stay in me" you whine and she chuckles at your words "Good girl" she whispers as she pushes you on your belly. "Get on your knees," she says grunting and helping you up.

You try to come up to breathe but t, there is no time for that. She firmly pushes into you. Her hand wanders and taps your butt. She focuses vigorously on what makes you cry before she pumps back into you. Her hands rest firmly on your hips and your sight is clouded as Alexia fills you again so well.

Her name comes out a few times in a croak. Whines leave your lips before her tempo once again quickens. Alexia draws you closer to her so you don’t fall.

A moan comes out of alexias mouth as the strap rubs on her clit. Her orgasm gets closer her head falls back her fingers drill harder into your hips and you whimper and whine under her.

Your second orgasm comes closer as you hear Alexia moaning louder and louder. "Please" you whine when you hear how Alexia starts to sound more desperate "Please come in me" you beg again and alexias moaning turns into deep grunting.

Your orgasm overtakes you both at the same time your legs tremble again but this time only slightly. Your eyes are turned firmly in the back of your head and you feel how Alexia pushes slower and her hands become softer on your hips.

She gently rubs your clit until it becomes too much. Your hand pushes Alexia’s away.

She takes her cock out of you and lets herself fall on the bed next to you. You crawl immediately onto her chest and give her small kisses on her cheek. “I missed you and your gift was great" you whisper, relieved and Alexia begins to smile "Your pasta was also very tasty" she whispers back.

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iatheia · 3 days ago

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I'm not sure I entirely agree? I would love nothing more than if every single student in my class got an A, if they demonstrated they understood the material, and demonstrated it in the homeworks and on the exam. But, there is always a fraction of students who refuse to even show up or do the barest minimum. And plenty of students would half-ass it. And after you taught a class enough times, you can pretty well intuit not "this is the bell curve distribution, and it has to be maintained no matter what" but "this student is doing comparatively to all those who have earned this grade in the past". I strive to have a consistent grading, but it isn't necessarily imposes a particular distribution of grades on a particular class, just that on average you would get certain types of students year after year.

Of course, if you have multiple people teaching the same class, you should communicate with your fellow instructors, striving to have consistency. You want to be fair to the students, if they answer the question incorrectly, but they answer it in the same way, that deserves the same grade, you shouldn't have the case where one student would get a B, and another a D for the same submission assignment in the same class, with the only difference being who is grading them. But this is solved through having a consistent rubrics, not through it being free-for all for the TAs and then trying to match each other's grade distribution.

My opinion on ChatGPT is that it is a tool like any other. And if you know how to use it, great. But in order to use it effectively, you already need to know quite a bit about the material. Even the thing that it is supposedly good at, writing computer code, it cannot handle anything more than the most trivial of tasks without hand-holding. About half of my class involves programing. And it is incredibly obvious when a student uses it. So many times they ended up generating random data instead of using the data provided to them, because a student mindlessly copied over what chatgpt has given them and didn't care if it is correct or not.

Obviously it isn't a problem unique to ChatGPT. A decade ago, there was a different type of assignment that I gave, they needed to go outside and record some observations. And if you know what you are doing, these "recordings" are incredibly easy to fake, and I would have been none the wiser. But if you don't know what you are doing... I had a student trying to convince me that they have never seen the Moon in their life after I caught them trying to "observe" it when it was below the horizon.

But generative AI amplifies the problem more. Even if you wanted to use Spark Notes, at least you needed to read those, and engage with the material to at least some degree. They were also written by people who understood the material, so even if students regurgitate that, they wouldn't be lead quite as far astray. With ChatGPT, students don't even need to read what it wrote to submit it, but they are also more blindsided when it takes them astray.

There were a couple of students I ended up calling out on its usage. One of them has admitted that he had no idea what he is doing, and I sat with him, and I walked him through the assignment, from the beginning to the end. And he is still not great at it, it doesn't come to him naturally at all, but you can definitely see him improving after he started doing stuff without resorting to AI. I can see him being more engaged, more interested in trying to succeed. The other student... is a bit of a hopeless case. They don't care, and I have no idea what is it is they are trying to get out of not just my class, but their major as a whole, because what they are getting out it so far ain't much...

Point is, yes, a diploma doesn't make a person more special than someone who doesn't have one. What matters is your passion, and whether you are willing to put in the work. Classes are meant to encourage cognitive development, to broaden the perspective, to gain at least some skills that would be useful to you later in life - they aren't the only way to get these skills, of course, you can do it in other settings if you chose to apply yourself elsewhere instead. But, if you chose to pursue higher education, then I would hope that by the end of the 4 years, you would get something meaningfull out of it, and this would only happen if you actually put in at least some modicum of effort. Otherwise you might as well buy your diploma off the street, and that would benefit absolutely nobody, least of all yourself.

(taken from a post about AI)

speaking as someone who has had to grade virtually every kind of undergraduate assignment you can think of for the past six years (essays, labs, multiple choice tests, oral presentations, class participation, quizzes, field work assignments, etc), it is wild how out-of-touch-with-reality people’s perceptions of university grading schemes are. they are a mass standardised measurement used to prove the legitimacy of your degree, not how much you’ve learned. Those things aren’t completely unrelated to one another of course, but they are very different targets to meet. It is standard practice for professors to have a very clear idea of what the grade distribution for their classes are before each semester begins, and tenure-track assessments (at least some of the ones I’ve seen) are partially judged on a professors classes’ grade distributions - handing out too many A’s is considered a bad thing because it inflates student GPAs relative to other departments, faculties, and universities, and makes classes “too easy,” ie, reduces the legitimate of the degree they earn. I have been instructed many times by professors to grade easier or harder throughout the term to meet those target averages, because those targets are the expected distribution of grades in a standardised educational setting. It is standard practice for teaching assistants to report their grade averages to one another to make sure grade distributions are consistent. there’s a reason profs sometimes curve grades if the class tanks an assignment or test, and it’s generally not because they’re being nice!

this is why AI and chatgpt so quickly expanded into academia - it’s not because this new generation is the laziest, stupidest, most illiterate batch of teenagers the world has ever seen (what an original observation you’ve made there!), it’s because education has a mass standard data format that is very easily replicable by programs trained on, yanno, large volumes of data. And sure the essays generated by chatgpt are vacuous, uncompelling, and full of factual errors, but again, speaking as someone who has graded thousands of essays written by undergrads, that’s not exactly a new phenomenon lol

I think if you want to be productively angry at ChatGPT/AI usage in academia (I saw a recent post complaining that people were using it to write emails of all things, as if emails are some sacred form of communication), your anger needs to be directed at how easily automated many undergraduate assignments are. Or maybe your professors calculating in advance that the class average will be 72% is the single best way to run a university! Who knows. But part of the emotional stakes in this that I think are hard for people to admit to, much less let go of, is that AI reveals how rote, meaningless, and silly a lot of university education is - you are not a special little genius who is better than everyone else for having a Bachelor’s degree, you have succeeded in moving through standardised post-secondary education. This is part of the reason why disabled people are systematically barred from education, because disability accommodations require a break from this standardised format, and that means disabled people are framed as lazy cheaters who “get more time and help than everyone else.” If an AI can spit out a C+ undergraduate essay, that of course threatens your sense of superiority, and we can’t have that, can we?

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lovegalor333 · 2 days ago

Note

can you do a part 3 to safe house please where reader goes back to Allie’s but stays in Paige’s room and they start a relationship?

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

safe house pt 3 (previous part)

summary: loosely based on this request! read previous parts

content warnings: alcohol consumption

You can’t remember the last time you got drunk. While you were with your ex boyfriend, you weren’t allowed to drink or party or have any fun actually but you’re not with him anymore so you can do whatever you want. And that’s why you had a red cup in each hand, one filled with vodka and the other with rum.

You took big gulps from each cup, the harsh bitterness of the alcohol no longer having an effect on you. You didn’t know what time it was, you could have arrived at the party two minutes ago or two hours ago, everything was a blur. It was nice. The constant anxiety that you were so used to living with everyday was slowly dispersing and not just because of the multitude of drinks you had consumed tonight.

You’d been staying at Allies place with her Paige and Jana for almost a month now. Your bruises had faded, you no longer flinched when someone touched you and you slept peacefully every night knowing that you weren’t going to wake up being choked or slapped. OK, not every night, you had nightmares sometimes but you were never alone, the girls held you while you cried every time. Especially Paige, she had a knack for knowing when you needed support and she would wrap her arms around you and rub your back until you could breathe normally again.

Speaking of Paige, you hadn’t seen her in a while, nor Allie or Jana but you just shrugged this off, downing the rest of your drinks, eager to find another. Your steps were staggered and your body swayed as you walked, if you knew any better, you’d stop drinking, go find your friends and make your way home but you didn’t know better. You felt like you had a new sense of life and you wanted to do all the things you missed out on while being in such a toxic relationship and that included getting drunk at frat parties.

You giggled to yourself as you pour more vodka into your cup. Your hand shook and the liquid splashed onto the counter, “Oh shittttt!” Your speech was slurred and slow and you felt dizzy as you spun around looking for paper towels to clean your mess. You couldn’t find any so decided the next best option was your shirt. You stretch the hem of your shirt and used the thin, lacy material to soak up the spilled alcohol. Obviously, this didn’t have the intended effect and you were left with a wet shirt and a bigger mess than before. You cursed under your breath but another sip of alcohol soon had you forgetting about the wet patch and swaying to the music again.

You made your way out of the kitchen, towards the booming speakers, desperate to dance but with your eyes focused on your feet, trying to stay balanced, you didn’t notice as you bumped straight into the chest of a rather large guy.

“Woah there.” He chuckles, hands reaching out to steady you and you allow him to, looking up grinning.

“I’m soooo sorryyyy.” You drawl out and he chuckles again, “It’s OK baby. Gotta watch where you’re going.”

“I just want to dance!” You pout, “Dance with me?” You flutter your lashes at the guy and his eyes rake over you, settling on your chest and you look down to see the top of your bra peaking out of your shirt, your full cleavage on clear display. Using your shirt as a rag had caused it to expose your chest way more than necessary.

“How ‘bout we go to my room? You can dance all you like in there.”

With God knows how much alcohol in your system and lack of better judgment, you slip your hand into his and follow behind him as he leads you through the frat house. He’s walking fast and you can’t keep up, you trip over your own feet, landing on the floor, your knee instantly hurts.

“Owww.” You cry out, clutching your throbbing knee, the entirety of your cup is spilled but you don’t have time to think about any of that because you’re instantly picked by up the guy you just met and you’re on your feet again and he’s leading you to the stairs.

Your steps are slower now because you’re limping but you’re practically being dragged and you feel as though you might fall again but then you feel a grip on your wrist and you’re being dragged in the opposite direction. With your hand still tight in the guys and your wrist being grasped from behind you, you’re being dragged in both directions and you think your arms are going to be ripped off.

“Let her go.” A stern, steady voice says from behind you and you recognise it, “Paigeeeeee!” You cheered as you turned around, coming face to face with the blonde, “I’ve been looking for you!”

“Now you’ve found me. Let’s go.” She says, tugging on your arm.

“Oh noooo I’m OK! We’re going to danceeee.” You reassure and your new buddy does too, “Yeah, I got her.” He says, also tugging on your arm.

“What’s her name?” Paige asks completely deadpan, in fact, she’s full on death glaring and when the guy can’t answer her question, she tugs on you harder until he drops your hand and scurries away.

“You’re no fun.” You sulk, crossing your arms over your body, frowning at Paige.

“And you’re very drunk. And your boobs are out,” She lifts your shirt until your chest is covered again, “and your knee is bleeding. And he definitely did not want to dance.”

“So? I’m si..shingle now.” You fumble over your words.

“Shingle?” Paige laughs and it only makes you frown more, “You know what I mean.”

“Yes, I know. All too well. Let’s go home.” She says grabbing your hand.

“Oh! I loooveeeee that song! Ten minute version! I walked through the door with you…” You began belting out the lyrics to All Too Well (10 minute version) as Paige guided you out of the frat house and you laughed as you walked through a door as you sang that exact lyric.

“And the air isssss cold.” You laugh again as you step into the street.

“OH YOUR SWEET DIS-DISPO-DISPOSITION!” You continue to perform as you walk hand in hand with Paige.

“What even is disposition? I’m sure yours is sweet whatever it is.” You lean into Paige, suddenly feeling very unsteady and she wraps your arm over her shoulder, her own hooking around your waist and she pretty much carries you all the way home while you butcher the lyrics to Taylor Swift.

By the time you reach the apartment, all your body weight is leant on Paige and she holds you strong and firm as she unlocks the door. You trip and stumble as you walk but she doesn’t let you fall, “Home stretch ma, just a few more steps.” She tells you before you feel the soft surface of a bed beneath you. The covers are fluffy and lilac, “This is your bed.” You say as if she doesn’t know. “Uh huh.” Is all she says as you feel her taking off your shoes.

You lay looking up at Paiges ceiling and you hear her shuffle around her room. Her bed is really comfortable you think to yourself.

Your knee begins to sting and you flinch, “It’s OK. I’m just wiping your knee.” Paiges voice is soft and gentle and she rubs your leg comfortingly. “You’re good at that.” You mumble, “Fixing me up.”

“I got you.”

“Thank you.” You voice is croaky and dry as you sit yourself up to look at your knee and the room spins, “The room is spinning.” You groan, holding a hand to your head.

“I’ll get you some water. Stay there.” Paige instructed and she left you alone in her room. Your wet shirt clung to you in an uncomfortable way and you tussle with it to get it over your head before throwing it on the floor.

“Oh…” Paige clears her throat as she comes back with a bottle of water, “It was wet.” You motion to your discarded shirt, “I’ll get you a clean one.” She says and hands you the bottle of water which you gladly take and gulp down, desperate for hydration.

Paige slips a t-shirt over your head and helps you thread your arms through and you look down, recognising the grey, UConn Basketball shirt you’ve seen her wear so many times, “Suits you.” She remarks and you grin up at her from your place on the edge of her bed, “Thank you, Paige. For everything. All the things you’ve done for me. No one’s ever done that for me before.” You admit as sobriety starts to slip in.

“Of course. I couldn’t just stand back and watch you get hurt.”

You reach out for Paiges hand as she stands in front of you and you hold it tenderly before bringing it to your mouth and pressing a soft kiss to it. You look up at Paige through your eyelashes and she’s looking down at you, eyes blue as ever, cheeks slightly flushed, “Can I sleep in here tonight?” You ask timidly and Paige nods, “I’ll take the couch.”

“No. I want to sleep in here…with you…please.” You mutter, hand still linked with Paiges, her calloused palm pressed against yours.

“You’re drunk…” She warns but you shake your head, “I know what I’m saying.”

“I don’t think you do.”

“Trust me, I do. Just lay with me tonight.” You shuffle back onto Paiges bed, pulling her with you and she doesn’t argue. She kicks her shoes off before laying down beside you, still holding your hand.

“I never knew it was meant to feel like this. So safe and secure.” You ramble on, unable to stop the words from spewing out, “And maybe that’s why I can’t stop thinking about you. Why it’s you who I want when I wake up crying. I don’t know if you meant to do this but you’ve showed me what it’s like to be truly cared for. I think I’m falling for you.”

The air is charged and there’s a long uncomfortable silence as your words hang between you both as you lay side by side.

“Get some sleep. You’ve had a lot to drink and you’re not going to remember anything in the morning.” Paige says, staring at her ceiling.

“I will.” You argue but you listen to her and close your eyes, moving your head to rest on her shoulder as you drift off to sleep, the taste of spirits still strong in your mouth and your heart racing from your drunken confession.

You wake up feeling like your head has been crushed under a hydraulic press. You groan as your eyes flutter open and then you gasp, waking up to Paige underneath you, your head rested on her chest, arm flung over her torso.

“What the fuck?” You mutter under your breath, noticing you’re wearing her top and that her arm is wrapped around you keeping you pressed to her. “Paige!” You hiss nudging her awake and it takes a moment but she begins to stir before slowly peeling her eyes open.

“I bet your head hurts like a motherfucker.” She grumbles, voice husky, thick with tiredness.

“You can say that again.” You squeeze your eyes shut hoping that blocking out the stream of daylight coming through the curtains will ease your pounding head. It doesn’t.

“What happened last night?” You ask apprehensively, pushing yourself up and off of Paige. She stays laying down, staring up at you, her eyes searching yours for a lightbulb moment but it doesn’t come. You have no memory of last night at all.

“You don’t remember?” She asks also pushing herself up so you’re both sitting. She’s still fully dressed and you’re still clad in your skirt from the night before so you know nothing happened between you but the atmosphere is charged like there’s something unspoken just hanging in the air.

“No. Not a thing. Did I embarrass myself?” You ask, cheeks heating at the thought of you doing something you’ll regret.

Paige shakes her head, “No. You were just really drunk. Tried going to a random dudes room so I brought you home.”

“Oh God. Thanks for stopping that.” You place a hand on Paiges knee and she has a reaction that you can’t quite place, “How comes I’m in here?” You ask, referring to her room. You either slept with Allie or on the couch.

“You asked to sleep in here.” She tells you and breaks eye contact, standing from the bed. She was acting weird. Fidgety and awkward. This wasn’t Paige.

“Did I do something to upset you?” You ask, guilt starting to slip in. You were used to being blamed for everything so it was only right Paiges mood was caused by you.

“No. No, of course not.” She reassured you but her body language said otherwise, “Then what is it?” You press, starting to feel awkward yourself, sat in her bed, wearing her top.

“You really don’t remember?”

“Obviously not. Can you just tell me?”

“You were drunk-“

“Yeah I got that part.”

“You were drunk and you asked to sleep in here…with me so we layed down together and you said you felt safe and secure. You said you can’t stop thinking about me…” Paige trails off but she doesn’t need to say anything more because everything comes flooding back to you, “I said I think I’m falling for you.” You say, repeating your alcohol induced confession.

Paige nods, “Fuckkk.” You groan, flopping back on her bed, covering your face with your hands, “I’m sorry. I was drunk and I shouldn’t have said that and now I’ve made things weird when you’ve been so good to me.” Your voice is muffled as you keep your hands pressed to your face, not daring to look at Paige.

“You haven’t made things weird. I didn’t know you felt like that. You caught me off guard.” Paige says and you feel the bed dip as she sits on it.

“Off guard in a bad way…or a good way?” You ask, not sure if you want to hear the answer.

Spending the past month with Paige had been confusing and you put it down to the repercussions of such an awful relationship but the more time you spent alone, watching movies, cooking, eating, talking, laughing, crying and actually being treated right, you realised that your feelings for Paige weren’t strictly platonic. You had no plan on telling her that though. To you, Paige saw you as a victim, someone who needed saving and she was kind enough to do that and you had taken that kindness and made it something it wasn’t and you were sure Paige saw you as just a friend.

“Not in a bad way. You’re beautiful and funny and you deserve the best in life but-“

“But I’m damaged goods.” You mutter, you had allowed yourself to be used and abused for a long time and then Paige watched you throw yourself at a random guy last night, you were crazy to think she’d want you.

“No, that’s not what I was going to say,” She turns to look at you and you have your knees tucked up to your chest, back rested against her headboard, “you’ve been through a lot. You’re going through a lot. I didn’t want to take advantage of that.” Paige says softly and you feel yourself melt. She has a way with words that makes your stomach flutter.

“I just want to forget about that. You help me forget about that. But I don’t want to be a charity case.”

“You’re not a charity case. Not to me.”

“What am I, to you?”

Paige stays silent but she moves closer to you, close enough to touch but ahe doesn’t reach out and your skin burns with need.

“You’re someone I care about…deeply. I want to spend all my time with you. I do spend all my time with you. You have something that I just can’t get enough of. I want to show you what it’s like to be loved…for real. Real, wholesome love. If you’ll let me.

Will you let me?”

Your heart is beating in your ears at this point and you’re staring at Paige, eyes soft and yearning and you can’t hold back from touching her any longer so you fling your arms around her, pulling her as close to you as she can get. Her arms find their way around your waist, hugging you back, your face is nestled into her neck, the scent of last nights cologne still strong, “I’ll let you.”

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

a/n: think i might take a break from writing once i get through some requests. my mental health is downnn atm and it’s making me hate everything i write 😕

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #wcbb #wlw #lovegalor333 #lgbtq #fanfic #paige x reader #oneshot #sophs works 🪽#paige bueckers fanfiction

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wisdom-devotee · 3 days ago

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31 Days of Hellenic Polytheism

Anyone can participate regardless of how long you’ve been a Hellenic polytheist! My hope is to use these questions to reflect on the year, and repeat next year to see what has changed, and hopefully to continue doing that every year!

Answer in as much or as little detail as you see fit. You are allowed to skip any questions that you are uncomfortable answering. These questions can also apply to heroes, not just deities. You can pick specific deities to answer each one, or answer the questions with all the deities you worship. This might apply to other Pantheons and I’m happy for it to be used as such. Feel free to tweak some of the questions to fit those pantheons if you’d like!

Please link this list on your posts with your answers so that it is easy for others to find if they want to participate too after seeing your answers.

THIS IS TO BE DONE DURING DECEMBER, I’M JUST POSTING THE LIST NOW SO PEOPLE CAN FIND IT!

Have fun!

DAY ONE: Who was the first deity you began worshipping? Do you still worship them now? If this has been answered before: how has your worship changed since last year?

DAY TWO: Which deity did you most recently start worshipping? Were you called to them or did you reach out first? Do you think there were specific reasons behind why you were drawn to them?

DAY THREE: How long ago did you start Hellenic Polytheism?

DAY FOUR: Are there any deities you don’t currently worship but want to learn about?

DAY FIVE: How much have you bonded with your deities?

DAY SIX: What’s one way you incorporate Hellenic Polytheism into your routine (daily, weekly, monthly, etc?)

DAY SEVEN: Are you openly a Hellenic Polytheist offline? How does being open/not being open effect your worship?

DAY EIGHT: Do you have altar(s)? If you do, how do you use it? If you don’t have one, do you want one? Why/why not?

DAY NINE: Is there a practice that’s common among other Hellenic Polytheists that you’re skeptical about?

DAY TEN: What’s something you’ve learned about Hellenic Polytheism that you wish you knew sooner?

DAY ELEVEN: What is the clearest sign you’ve received from a deity?

DAY TWELVE: Do you do food offerings or libations? What do you do with the food/drink after you’ve offered it?

DAY THIRTEEN: Do you write your own prayers?

DAY FOURTEEN: Do you have any hobbies that fit any of your deities’ domains?

DAY FIFTEEN: How has your worship changed you?

DAY SIXTEEN: If you could give one piece of advice to someone who’s just starting in Helpol, what would it be?

DAY SEVENTEEN: Send out some love! Are there any Helpol blogs here on tumblr that you follow and really like?

DAY EIGHTEEN: How can you best describe your relationship with each of your deities?

DAY NINETEEN: If you had to assign one song to each of the deities you worship, what songs would you choose?

DAY TWENTY: Do you have a favourite aspect of Hellenic Polytheism?

DAY TWENTY-ONE: Are there any retellings/adaptations of greek mythology that you LIKE? Why/why not?

DAY TWENTY-TWO: Is there an aspect of Hellenic polytheism you haven’t yet gotten to try but hope to in the future? Do you have any other Helpol-related goals for next year?

DAY TWENTY-THREE: What’s a bit of UPG you have with your deities?

DAY TWENTY-FOUR: What’s an offering you’ve made that you’re really proud of?

DAY TWENTY-FIVE: What was the most surprising thing you’ve learnt about Hellenic Polytheism or your deities?

DAY TWENTY-SIX: Do you celebrate any festivals? Which ones or why not?

DAY TWENTY-SEVEN: Share a fun fact about one or more of your deities which you think is underrated or not well-known

DAY TWENTY-EIGHT: What is your favourite myth?

DAY TWENTY-NINE: What is an aspect of your deities you really appreciate?

DAY THIRTY: Do you have a visual interpretation of your deities? Is this different from usual depictions you see of them?

DAY THIRTY-ONE: Share a positive experience you’ve had this month/year with one or more of your deities

#hellenic polytheism #hellenism #deity worship #hero worship #helpol #hellenic community #hellenic paganism #31 days of helpol #december

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julietsf1 · 2 days ago

Text

The Potion Project - Charles Leclerc x Reader (Harry Potter inspired)

summary: When a week-long potions project pairs two opposites, something starts brewing between them as well (12k words)

content: sweet Charles, cold reader, set at Hogwarts, who hired Gunther as a teacher? enemies to lovers

A/N: I'm entering my winter groove again and every year around this time I rewatch the HP movies & it got me feeling nostalgic guys!! with Charles being a big fan I just had to write something heehee :) I know he says he's Ravenclaw but I choose to ignore that

Franco fics soon! just doing some last proofreading

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

The dungeons were colder than necessary. Not that it was unusual—I’d spent enough time in the Slytherin common room to acclimate—but there was something distinctly unpleasant about Potions. The damp air clung to the walls, steeped with the scent of overbrewed concoctions, the occasional waft of singed hair, and faint notes of despair.

Professor Steiner loomed at the front of the classroom like a storm cloud, his sharp eyes scanning the room as if daring anyone to breathe too loudly.

“Quiet!” he barked, his voice reverberating off the walls. Several students flinched, though Steiner’s theatrics were nothing new. “This is not a place for your idle chatter. This is my domain. You will respect it—or you will suffer!”

I stifled a sigh, adjusting my quill and parchment. Steiner was infamous for his dramatic speeches, though they were often more effective at frightening first-years than inspiring actual respect.

“Today,” he continued, his sharp accent cutting through the air, “we embark on a very special project. One that will test your patience, skill, and—most importantly—your ability to cooperate.”

I straightened slightly in my seat. It was never a good sign when Steiner emphasized words like patience or cooperate.

“This term,” he went on, “we will be brewing Amortentia.”

A ripple of excitement spread through the room. Amortentia: the most powerful love potion in existence. It was infamous for revealing one’s innermost desires through scent alone—a potion that required equal parts skill and trust to perfect.

“However,” Steiner added, silencing the murmurs with a sharp glare, “this is not merely an exercise in potion-making. This is an exercise in unity. You will be working with a partner from a different house.”

The murmurs returned, louder this time.

“Oh, Merlin,” Lando muttered beside me, leaning back in his chair with a theatrical groan. He was leaning so far back in his chair he might as well have been horizontal.

My usual partner in crime was a typical Slytherin: confident, smug, and disliked for the dumbest reasons. Although Lando himself had claimed his house allocation to be the result from ‘Slithering in every girl’s pants’. A remark I mocked him for at every chance I got, of course. Not that he was wrong, though.

“The potion is delicate,” Steiner continued, glaring at Max Verstappen, who was whispering something to Daniel Ricciardo across the aisle. “It requires precision. Focus. And most importantly—trust. Without these, it will fail spectacularly. Ja, you will fail spectacularly.”

“Now,” he said, pacing the front of the room, “I will announce your partners. Listen carefully—there will be no changes.”

The roll call began, each pairing met with a mixture of groans, laughter, and resigned sighs.

“Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri.”

Oscar, a soft-spoken Ravenclaw, looked visibly distressed. Lando grinned, clearly planning some sort of mischief.

“Carlos Sainz and Alex Albon.”

Carlos, the ever strategising Ravenclaw, gave Alex a polite nod. Alex, the friendly Hufflepuff that he is, returned it with a vibrant smile.

“Daniel Ricciardo and Max Verstappen.”

Max’s expression remained stoic, though there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. Daniel, on the other hand, clapped Max on the back, loudly declaring, “This is going to be fantastic!”

“Fernando Alonso and Lance Stroll.”

The room collectively groaned. Of course. Two Slytherins working together defeated the entire point of inter-house cooperation, but neither Alonso nor Lance seemed remotely apologetic.

Lance’s dad was also a professor, but he always denied that having anything to do with his seemingly never-ending luck.

“George Russell and Ollie Bearman.”

Ollie, the youngest of the Hufflepuffs, looked ready to bolt. George, a Ravenclaw with an air of calm superiority, gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“Lewis Hamilton and Franco Colapinto.”

Franco, ever the optimist, grinned at Lewis. The Gryffindor Seeker offered a polite nod in return, his demeanor radiating quiet dignity.

“Pierre Gasly and Valtteri Bottas.”

Valtteri, the epitome of Hufflepuff steadiness, seemed unfazed. Pierre, a flamboyant Gryffindor, raised an eyebrow as if already calculating the odds of success.

“And finally,” Steiner said, his gaze landing on me, “Y/N and Charles Leclerc.”

I froze.

Charles Leclerc—the golden boy of Hufflepuff. Cheerful, clumsy, and infuriatingly optimistic.

He turned around from his seat in the front of the class, flashing me a grin that made my blood boil.

I glared at him, already regretting every decision that had led me to this moment.

...

By the time class ended, the room had descended into controlled chaos. The sound of chairs scraping, glass clinking, and voices clashing filled the air as everyone began gathering their supplies and—predictably—arguing with their partners.

Charles, bless his Hufflepuff heart, had already made a mess. He reached for a jar of billywig stings on the shelf, fumbled it like it was a Quaffle, and sent it tumbling to the floor.

“Sorry!” he exclaimed, bending down to pick it up—only to bump his head on the desk on the way up.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. This was going to be a disaster.

Across the room, Franco was chatting animatedly with Lewis, waving his hands so much I half-expected him to take off like a billywig himself.

“...and then there was this time during the Quidditch match when I nearly got hit by a Bludger, but I dodged it like—” Franco made an exaggerated dive motion, knocking a vial off the table. Lewis caught it effortlessly, his Gryffindor poise still intact.

“Focus,” Lewis said mildly, setting the vial back in place.

“Right, focus,” Franco said, clearly not planning to focus at all.

At the front of the room, Max and Daniel were already plotting, their voices carrying easily over the din.

“We’ll finish first,” Max declared confidently, his Slytherin arrogance practically radiating off him.

“Obviously,” Daniel replied, grinning. “We’re the dream team.”

“Be realistic, hermanos,” Carlos interjected as he passed, his Ravenclaw sensibilities clearly offended by their lack of a plan. “You haven’t even read the instructions.”

“We don’t need instructions,” Max said.

“That’s the motto of people who fail,” Carlos shot back, but Daniel just laughed and gave him a thumbs-up.

Beside me, Lando was enjoying himself far too much. He was leaning back in his chair, looking between me and Charles like he was watching the first act of a play.

“Looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you,” he said with a grin.

“I hate you,” I replied flatly.

“Don’t worry,” he added, clapping me on the shoulder like he was offering genuine comfort. “If you get desperate, just tell him the potion needs ‘a dash of love’ or something. Hufflepuffs eat that stuff up.”

“Don’t you have a Ravenclaw to terrorize?” I shot back, nodding toward Oscar, who was nervously rearranging his supplies like his life depended on it.

“Oh, I’m going to have so much fun with him,” Lando said, his smirk widening. “He already looks like he’s on the verge of a breakdown. All I have to do is mislabel one ingredient and—poof—chaos.”

“Remind me why we’re friends?”

“Because you love me,” Lando said simply, leaning back again.

Meanwhile, Charles, who had managed to gather most of his spilled supplies, was now trying to stack several jars precariously on top of each other. The top one teetered dangerously, and I opened my mouth to stop him—but it was too late.

The jar crashed to the floor, shattering into a million pieces.

“Sorry!” Charles yelped again, looking genuinely distressed.

Lando snorted. “Seven nights,” he said, shaking his head. “Seven nights of this. How are you going to survive?”

“I’m not,” I muttered. “Just make sure the epitaph on my grave says Death by Hufflepuff.”

By the time we reached the Slytherin common room, my frustration had only deepened. The thought of spending seven nights with Charles Leclerc—cheerful, clumsy, maddening Charles—was enough to make my head ache.

Lando lounged on the sofa nearest the fireplace, looking every bit the self-assured Slytherin that he was. His legs were draped over the armrest, his tie hanging loose around his neck, and his smirk firmly in place.

“Well?” he drawled, twirling his wand between his fingers. “How does it feel to be paired with Charles ‘Sunshine and Smiles’ Leclerc?”

“About as thrilling as you’d expect,” I replied, sinking into the armchair opposite him. “Can’t wait to spend my evenings watching him trip over cauldrons while giving me a lecture on the power of friendship.”

Lando snorted, clearly amused. “At least he’s nice.”

“That’s part of the problem,” I said, slumping further into the chair. “He’s too nice. It’s unsettling. Nobody is that cheerful without some ulterior motive.”

“Maybe his ulterior motive is making you less of a cynic,” Lando said with a grin.

“Maybe my ulterior motive is not hexing him before the week is over,” I shot back.

Lando chuckled, leaning forward slightly. “Come on, he can’t be that bad.”

“He dropped a jar twice before we even started,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “Twice, Lando. That’s not just clumsiness—that’s a cry for help.”

“Maybe he was nervous,” Lando offered, though the twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement.

“Why? Because I terrify him?”

“Because you terrify everyone,” he replied, laughing.

I grabbed one of the decorative cushions and threw it at him. Lando ducked, cackling as the cushion sailed harmlessly past him.

“Alright, alright,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “If Charles is as hopeless as you say, what do you think his Amortentia will smell like?”

“Sunshine and sincerity,” I said instantly.

Lando blinked. “Sunshine? Sincerity?”

“Yes,” I replied, leaning forward in mock seriousness. “The man practically radiates it. He probably spends his free time rescuing injured animals and helping old witches cross the street. Honestly, he probably smells like freshly baked bread, lavender fields, and the satisfaction of knowing he’s a better person than the rest of us.”

Lando howled with laughter, clutching his stomach. “Lavender fields? Satisfaction? You’re killing me.”

“Am I wrong?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” Lando admitted, still chuckling. “But now I’m picturing him cradling a three-legged puppy while giving an inspirational speech.”

“Exactly,” I said, smirking. “The boy is too sweet and soft. It’s suspicious.”

“And here I thought you were being unfair,” Lando teased, shaking his head.

“Oh, I’m completely unfair,” I said lightly. “But you can’t tell me you don’t see it. He’s practically glowing.”

“Fair enough,” Lando said, still grinning. “What about Franco? What’s his going to smell like?”

“An older woman,” I replied without hesitation.

Lando froze for a second before dissolving into laughter. “Merlin’s beard, you’re right. Max and Franco, both of them. Older women everywhere, beware.”

I leaned back, considering. “Although, your potion might not be much better. Portuguese pastries, for sure.”

“What?” Lando exclaimed, sitting up slightly. “Pastel de nata?”

“Mm-hmm,” I said, nodding. “Which, let’s be honest, doesn’t narrow down your soulmate pool at all.”

“You’re insufferable,” he muttered, covering his face with a cushion.

“Thank you,” I said sweetly.

Once Lando had recovered from his pastry-induced existential crisis, his expression turned mischievous again. “Alright, back to Charles. Do you think he’s already figured out what yours will smell like?”

I frowned. “Why would he care?”

“Oh, come on,” Lando said, rolling his eyes. “It’s practically inevitable. You, with your sharp tongue and overwhelming perfection. Him, with his golden retriever energy and clumsy charm. By the end of the week, he’s going to be hopelessly in love with you.”

“If you don’t shut up,” I cut in, “I will hex you into next week.”

Lando grinned. “You won’t do it.”

“Try me,” I said, narrowing my eyes.

“You’re just mad because I’m right,” he said smugly, leaning back again.

“I’m mad because you’re insufferable,” I shot back.

“Sure, sure,” he said, waving me off. “But when you’re proven wrong, I’ll be here. Ready to say ‘I told you so.’”

I reached for another cushion, but Lando had already leapt to his feet, laughing as he dodged out of range. “Goodnight, Y/N. Enjoy your sunshine and sincerity!”

“Goodnight, Lando,” I called after him, shaking my head.

The common room fell quiet after he left, save for the crackling fire and the occasional drip of water from the enchanted windows. I sank deeper into the armchair, letting my head fall back against the cushion.

Seven nights with Charles Leclerc. Seven nights of clumsiness, cheerful optimism, and broom polish.

This was going to be a long week.

…

The Potions classroom at night felt different. Quieter, somehow, but not in a peaceful way. The torches burned low, casting flickering shadows across the stone walls, and the faint scent of old ingredients hung in the air. I’d arrived early—not out of enthusiasm, but because I refused to let Charles Leclerc think I was the kind of person who was ever late.

The workspace I claimed was one of the better ones: a sturdy wooden table near the center of the room, far enough from the cauldron fumes of other students but close enough to Steiner’s desk to appear studious.

I began unpacking my supplies with the precision of someone who needed to keep their hands busy. Dried billywig stings, crushed moonstone, powdered asphodel—each vial was placed carefully in its designated spot.

“Y/N?”

I nearly dropped my stirring rod at the sound of his voice. Turning, I saw Charles standing in the doorway, framed by the dim light. He was holding a cauldron that seemed far too large for one person to manage, and the cheerful grin on his face was the exact opposite of how I felt about this entire situation.

“You’re early,” he said brightly, walking toward me with the kind of enthusiasm that could only come from a Hufflepuff.

“So are you,” I replied, already turning back to my supplies.

“Thought I’d get a head start,” he said, setting the cauldron down with a loud thud that made the glass jars on the table rattle.

I closed my eyes, willing myself to stay calm. “Great idea,” I muttered, rearranging the jars he’d displaced.

If Charles noticed my tone, he didn’t comment. Instead, he began unpacking his own supplies, humming softly to himself as he worked.

“What’s that?” I asked, unable to help myself.

“What’s what?”

“The humming,” I said, glancing at him.

“Oh,” he said, looking sheepish. “It’s a song my brother used to sing when he studied. Helps me focus.”

“Right,” I said flatly, returning to my vials.

There was a beat of silence, and then: “So, Y/N, what made you want to study Potions?”

I sighed, setting down my pestle. “Charles, do you think we can skip the small talk and just get to work?”

His expression faltered for a moment before he nodded. “Of course,” he said, his smile dimming slightly.

Good, I thought. This wasn’t a social event.

We’d been working for nearly twenty minutes when the first argument broke out.

“You’re stirring too fast,” I said, frowning at the potion as it bubbled furiously.

“I’m following the instructions,” Charles replied, his tone calm but tinged with exasperation.

“Clearly not,” I said, reaching for the spoon in his hand. “Here, let me—”

“Let me,” he interrupted, holding the spoon just out of my reach.

I glared at him. “Charles, the potion is about to curdle.”

“No, it’s not,” he argued, glancing at the cauldron. “It’s perfectly fine. You’re overreacting.”

“Overreacting?” I repeated, incredulous. “Do you have any idea what happens when Amortentia curdles? Because I can assure you it’s not ‘perfectly fine.’”

Charles sighed, his shoulders sagging as he set the spoon down. “Why do you always assume I don’t know what I’m doing?”

“Because you just spent the last five minutes stirring like you’re whisking pancake batter,” I snapped, gesturing at the cauldron.

“That’s rich coming from someone who spent half the session rearranging the ingredients instead of actually brewing the potion,” he shot back, his tone sharper than I’d expected.

I froze, narrowing my eyes at him. “I was organizing.”

“You were stalling,” he corrected, crossing his arms.

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t trust me,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less certain. “You’d rather do everything yourself than let me try.”

“That’s not true,” I said, though the words sounded hollow even to me.

“Isn’t it?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “You’ve been micromanaging me since the moment we started. At least give me a chance before you decide I’m hopeless.”

I stared at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. Before I could respond, the potion hissed loudly, a plume of steam rising from the surface.

“What do we do now?” Charles asked, breaking the silence.

I sighed, grabbing the stirring rod. “We stabilize it. Slowly. Carefully. Without stirring like a maniac.”

The rest of the session passed in tense silence. Charles, to his credit, followed my instructions without complaint, though his earlier comment still grated on me.

By the time the potion had settled into a murky but manageable state, my patience was wearing thin.

“Well,” Charles said, stepping back from the cauldron, “it’s not perfect, but it’s not exploding either.”

“High praise,” I muttered, wiping my hands on a cloth.

He smiled faintly, his earlier cheerfulness tempered by caution. “Thanks for... guiding me,” he said, his voice careful.

I glanced at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. For a moment, I felt a flicker of guilt for being so curt with him earlier.

“Just... read the instructions more carefully next time,” I said, my voice softer than before.

“Got it,” he said, his grin returning in full force.

I rolled my eyes, but there was no real malice behind it.

“See you tomorrow, Y/N,” he said, gathering his supplies.

“Yeah,” I replied, watching as he left the room.

As the door closed behind him, I let out a long sigh. One night down, six to go.

The Potions classroom felt less eerie the second night, though it still carried the same oppressive silence that made the sound of footsteps echo louder than necessary. I arrived slightly later this time—not late enough to seem unprofessional, but enough to make it clear I wasn’t in a rush to be here.

Charles was already at the table when I walked in, his cauldron set up and his supplies meticulously organized. He looked up as I approached, offering a polite smile that I didn’t return.

“Evening,” he said, his voice cheerful as always.

“Let’s just get this over with,” I replied, pulling out my notes and setting them down with a bit more force than necessary.

Charles blinked at me but said nothing, turning his attention back to his cauldron. For a few blessed moments, the only sounds were the clinking of vials and the rustle of parchment as we prepared our workspace.

“What do you like most about Potions?” Charles asked after a beat, his tone light, as though he were trying to bridge a gap I hadn’t invited him to cross.

I didn’t look up from measuring the powdered asphodel. “I’m good at it.”

“That’s not what I asked,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“It’s what you’re getting,” I replied curtly.

He chuckled softly, which only annoyed me further. “Alright, fair enough. I like Potions, too.”

“Congratulations,” I muttered, rolling my eyes.

“I think it’s interesting,” he continued, completely unfazed by my lack of enthusiasm. “How you can take things that seem ordinary on their own—like herbs or minerals—and combine them to make something extraordinary. It’s like magic within magic, you know?”

I didn’t bother responding.

“I’ve always been curious about how things work,” he went on, oblivious to my silence. “That’s part of why I like Quidditch, too. There’s so much strategy involved—reading the game, anticipating moves. It’s not just about flying fast.”

I hummed vaguely, hoping he’d take the hint and stop talking. He didn’t.

“I started playing when I was seven,” he said, his voice taking on a more personal tone. “My dad taught me. He wasn’t a professional or anything, but he loved the game. Growing up by the sea especially, my brothers and I lost so many snitches and Quaffles in the waves. But he would never be upset about it.”

I accidentally spilled a pinch of asphodel, gritting my teeth as I cleaned it up.

“Y/N?”

“What?” I snapped, looking up at him for the first time.

Charles raised an eyebrow. “You’re not even listening.”

“I’m listening,” I said defensively.

“No, you’re pretending to listen,” he countered. “There’s a difference.”

I opened my mouth to argue but stopped short when I saw the look on his face. He wasn’t smiling anymore.

“Look,” I said finally, sighing. “I’m not here to make friends, okay? I’m here to get this potion done.”

Charles’s expression hardened. “Good,” he said sharply. “Because I’m not here to make friends either.”

The words caught me off guard, though I wasn’t entirely sure why.

“Great,” I said, recovering quickly. “Then let’s focus on the potion and skip the personal anecdotes.”

“Fine by me,” he said, his tone colder than I’d ever heard it.

For a while, the only sound between us was the bubbling of the cauldron. The tension in the air was almost palpable, thick and suffocating.

We worked in silence for most of the session, our movements stiff and deliberate. Despite the awkwardness, there was something oddly productive about the lack of conversation. Without distractions, we managed to complete the first phase of the potion without any major disasters.

As I stirred the mixture carefully, I caught a glimpse of Charles out of the corner of my eye. He was focused, his brows furrowed in concentration as he measured out the powdered moonstone.

“You’re doing it wrong,” I said automatically, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

Charles looked up, his expression blank. “Am I?”

“Yes,” I said, stepping closer. “You’re supposed to add it gradually, not all at once.”

“Right,” he said, adjusting his technique without argument.

The ease with which he accepted my criticism surprised me. I’d expected more resistance, another round of bickering. Instead, he just nodded and kept working, his movements precise and deliberate.

“Thanks,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now.

“For what?” I asked, frowning.

“For correcting me,” he said simply. “I’d rather get it right than mess it up.”

I didn’t respond, turning my attention back to the cauldron. There was something disarming about the way he said it, his sincerity catching me off guard.

We finished the session without any further mishaps, the potion a shimmering shade of lilac by the end of it. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a step in the right direction.

As we cleaned up, the tension between us felt slightly less suffocating, though it wasn’t exactly gone.

“See you tomorrow,” Charles said as he packed up his supplies, his tone polite but distant.

“Yeah,” I replied, watching as he walked toward the door.

For a moment, I considered saying something—an apology, maybe, or a thank you. But the words caught in my throat, and by the time I found the courage to speak, the door had already closed behind him.

I sighed, turning back to simmering cauldron. Maybe tomorrow would be better.

By the time I arrived at the Potions classroom for the third night, I had resigned myself to another evening of tense silence and forced cooperation. The heavy wooden door creaked slightly as I pushed it open, the familiar smell of ingredients and old stone greeting me as I stepped inside.

Charles was already there, of course. Punctuality seemed to be his specialty, along with a perpetual optimism that bordered on exhausting. But tonight, something was different.

“Evening,” he said, looking up from the table with a smile. In front of him sat not just the usual arrangement of potion supplies but two steaming cups of tea.

I hesitated in the doorway, frowning. “What’s that?”

“Tea,” he said simply, gesturing to the cups. “I thought it might make things... less awful.”

“Less awful,” I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, I figured if we’re going to be stuck working together all week, we might as well try to make it tolerable,” he explained, pushing one of the cups toward me.

I stared at him for a moment, torn between suspicion and reluctant appreciation. Finally, I sighed and took the cup, the warmth spreading through my hands as I wrapped my fingers around it.

“Thanks,” I muttered, avoiding his gaze.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, his voice soft but sincere.

I took a cautious sip, the rich, slightly floral flavor surprising me. It was good—annoyingly good.

“Didn’t peg you as a tea enthusiast,” I said, setting the cup down.

Charles shrugged, his lips quirking into a faint smile. “I’m full of surprises.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and turned my attention to the cauldron instead.

The session started smoother than the previous two, the tea serving as an unspoken truce between us. Charles seemed more at ease, his movements less tentative as he worked beside me.

“You’re adding too much powdered asphodel,” I said, glancing at his measuring spoon.

Charles paused, holding the spoon over the cauldron. “How much should I add, then?”

“Three pinches, not four,” I replied, my tone less sharp than usual.

He adjusted the amount without complaint, carefully sprinkling the powder into the potion.

“Better?” he asked, looking at me for confirmation.

“Better,” I admitted grudgingly.

Charles smiled, and for a fleeting moment, I noticed how his green eyes caught the torchlight, the flecks of gold in them almost shimmering. I quickly looked away, focusing on the potion.

We worked in relative harmony for the next hour, the bubbling of the cauldron filling the silence between us. It was almost... pleasant. Not that I’d admit it out loud.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Charles said after a while, breaking the silence.

“Is that a complaint?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not at all,” he replied, his grin returning. “Just an observation. You’re usually telling me everything I’m doing wrong by now.”

“I’m trying something new,” I said dryly. “It’s called patience.”

“Impressive,” he said, laughing softly.

“Don’t get used to it,” I warned, though my tone lacked its usual bite.

Charles chuckled again, the sound warm and unassuming.

As the session continued, I found myself watching him more closely—not in judgment, but in curiosity. There was a quiet determination to the way he worked, his focus unwavering as he carefully measured ingredients and stirred the potion with practiced precision.

His hair, dark and slightly tousled, fell into his eyes as he leaned over the cauldron, and he brushed it back absentmindedly with his fingers. There was something almost... endearing about the way he frowned in concentration, his brow furrowed just enough to give him a boyish charm.

“Y/N?”

I blinked, realizing he’d caught me staring. “What?”

“You’re doing it again,” he said, smirking.

“Doing what?”

“Hovering,” he said, his tone teasing.

“I’m supervising,” I corrected, crossing my arms.

“Right,” he said, his smirk widening. “Supervising.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

By the time we finished, the potion was a shimmering, pearly white—a marked improvement from the murky disaster of the first night.

“Not bad,” Charles said, stepping back to admire our work.

“Could be better,” I replied, though there was no real venom in my words.

“We’ll get there,” he said confidently, wiping his hands on a cloth.

His optimism was still maddening, but I had to admit it was slightly less grating than before.

As we packed up, the tension between us felt noticeably lighter.

“See you tomorrow,” Charles said, offering me another one of his infuriatingly sincere smiles.

“Yeah,” I replied, picking up my bag.

I paused in the doorway, glancing back at him one last time. There was something about the way he stood there—his posture relaxed but attentive, his green eyes bright with that unrelenting earnestness—that made me hesitate.

“Thanks for the tea,” I said quietly.

Charles’s smile widened, and for a moment, I almost felt like smiling back. Almost.

“Anytime,” he said.

I turned and walked out before he could say anything else, the warmth of the tea lingering in my hands—and, annoyingly, in my thoughts.

…

Breakfast in the Great Hall was one of my favorite parts of the day. It wasn’t just the food—though the enchanted platters that replenished themselves with warm toast, flaky pastries, and perfectly brewed coffee certainly didn’t hurt. It was the calm before the chaos, a brief window where the day hadn’t yet demanded anything of you.

This morning, however, I found myself unusually distracted.

“Earth to Y/N.”

I blinked, realizing Lando was waving a piece of bacon in front of my face.

“What?” I snapped, swatting his hand away.

“You’ve been staring into space for the last five minutes,” he said, smirking. “What’s got you so lost in thought? Don’t tell me it’s Leclerc.”

“Of course not,” I said quickly, a little too quickly.

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Sure, sure. So you weren’t just thinking about how you two are best friends now?”

“We are not best friends,” I said firmly, stabbing a piece of sausage with my fork for emphasis.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve stopped complaining about him, for one thing.”

“That’s because we’ve figured out how to work together,” I said, though the words sounded hollow even to me.

“Oh, you’ve ‘figured out’ how to work together,” Lando said, grinning. “That’s code for you’re warming up to him.”

“I am not warming up to him,” I insisted, though my cheeks felt uncomfortably warm.

“Denial is a powerful thing,” Lando said, taking a sip of his coffee with the kind of exaggerated smugness that made me want to throw something at him.

Further down the table, a lively conversation among our friends caught my attention.

“So, Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor today,” Carlos said, his Ravenclaw demeanor calm but his tone betraying a flicker of curiosity.

“Easy win for Gryffindor,” Franco chimed in, his Hufflepuff scarf loosely draped over his neck. “Leclerc might be good, but the rest of the team’s a mess.”

“Oh, come on,” Alex said, his loyalty as a Hufflepuff evident. “We’re not that bad.”

Max, seated beside Daniel, leaned back with a wicked grin. “I can’t wait to see Gryffindor lose to the worst sports team in the castle.”

Daniel snorted, nudging Max with his elbow. “You’re just bitter because we won last week.”

“I’m not bitter,” Max said, feigning innocence. “I’m just realistic. Hufflepuff’s overdue for a win, and what better team to beat than Gryffindor?”

George, always the voice of reason, raised an eyebrow. “You’re placing your bets on Hufflepuff? You have considered their statistics?”

“Not a bet,” Max said smugly. “It’s more of a prediction. Just wait—you’ll see.”

Daniel shook his head, laughing. “You’re lucky I don’t take offense, Maximilian.”

“Lucky,” Max said, grinning.

The banter continued, but I tuned out as I turned back to Lando, who was watching me with an annoyingly knowing expression.

“What now?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he said, smirking. “Just wondering if you’re going to make it through the match without swooning.”

I glared at him. “I am not going to swoon.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, grinning.

By the time we reached the Quidditch pitch, the stands were already buzzing with excitement. The Gryffindor and Hufflepuff banners waved proudly in the breeze, their house colors painting the crowd in shades of red and gold, yellow and black.

Lando led the way to a spot near the middle of the stands, his Slytherin scarf draped loosely around his neck.

“You’re unusually enthusiastic about this,” I said as we sat down.

“I’m here for the drama,” he said, grinning. “And to watch you squirm every time Leclerc does something impressive.”

“I’m not going to squirm,” I said, though my voice lacked conviction.

“Sure, sure,” he said, smirking.

The match began with a sharp whistle from Madam Hooch, the players taking to the air in a blur of motion. The Gryffindor team, as expected, played aggressively, their Chasers weaving through the Hufflepuff defense with practiced ease.

But Hufflepuff held their ground, their Keeper deflecting shot after shot with remarkable precision.

Then there was Charles.

As Seeker, his role was less flashy but no less crucial. He moved with a quiet confidence, his sharp green eyes scanning the pitch as he hovered above the chaos. His dark hair was windswept from the speed, and there was a focus in his expression that I hadn’t noticed before—not the cheerful optimism I’d grown accustomed to, but something sharper, more intense.

“He’s good,” Lando said, nudging me with his elbow.

I ignored him, though I couldn’t deny the truth of his statement.

The game dragged on, neither team managing to pull too far ahead. The score was tight, and the tension in the air was palpable as the Snitch finally appeared, darting across the pitch in a blur of gold.

Charles spotted it immediately.

He shot forward like a bolt of lightning, his broom slicing through the air with precision. The Gryffindor Seeker, hot on his heels, was faster, but Charles was smarter, his movements calculated as he anticipated the Snitch’s erratic flight path.

I found myself leaning forward in my seat, my heart pounding as the two Seekers closed in.

Then, in a move so daring it made the crowd gasp, Charles dove.

It was reckless, almost suicidal, the kind of dive that could end in disaster if his timing was even a fraction off. But he didn’t hesitate.

His fingers closed around the Snitch just inches from the ground, and the stadium erupted into cheers as the whistle blew, signaling the end of the match.

Lando turned to me, his smirk practically splitting his face. “And there it is.”

“There what is?” I asked, tearing my gaze away from the pitch.

“You,” he said, pointing at me. “Blushing.”

“I am not blushing,” I said, though my cheeks betrayed me.

“Sure, sure,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “Just admit it—you’re impressed.”

I crossed my arms, trying to ignore the way my heart was still racing. “He’s fine, I guess.”

“Fine,” Lando repeated, laughing. “You were practically holding your breath during that dive.”

“Was not,” I muttered, though the words sounded unconvincing even to me.

“Whatever you say,” Lando said, grinning.

As the crowd began to disperse, I caught one last glimpse of Charles on the pitch, his teammates surrounding him in celebration. There was a faint smile on his face, not the broad, toothy grin I’d expected, but something quieter, more satisfied.

I shook my head, tearing my gaze away.

It was just Quidditch. Nothing more.

…

I arrived at the Potions classroom that evening with a small package tucked under my arm. It wasn’t like me to make peace offerings, especially not for something as trivial as a strained group project, but the nagging sense of guilt from Charles bringing tea the previous night had finally gotten to me.

If I was being honest, it wasn’t just guilt. It was the faint, begrudging realization that maybe Charles deserved a little credit for his effort. He wasn’t perfect—far from it—but he was trying.

The classroom was quiet when I walked in, the soft flicker of torchlight illuminating Charles already at our table. His head was bent over his cauldron, his dark hair slightly tousled, and the flicker of concentration on his face gave him an uncharacteristic air of seriousness.

“Evening,” I said, setting my bag down with a thud.

Charles looked up, his green eyes brightening when he saw me. “Evening,” he replied, his usual cheerfulness returning instantly. His gaze flickered to the package in my hand. “What’s that?”

“Cookies,” I said, sliding the package across the table toward him. “Consider it a peace offering.”

His eyebrows lifted in surprise, and a grin spread across his face. “A peace offering? From you? Should I be worried?”

“Only if you don’t appreciate them,” I said, smirking.

He chuckled, opening the package and examining the contents. “These look incredible. Did you make them?”

“Obviously,” I replied. “Do you think I’d trust the house-elves to get the seasoning right?”

Charles laughed, a warm, genuine sound that filled the quiet space. “Well, thank you. Really.”

“Don’t mention it,” I said, trying not to let his sincerity catch me off guard. “Literally. Don’t mention it. To anyone.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

As the potion bubbled steadily, we found ourselves settling into an unexpectedly smooth rhythm, each of us quietly handling our assigned tasks.

“You know,” Charles said after a while, glancing at the shimmering surface of the potion, “this is almost... peaceful.”

“Peaceful?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow. “I think you mean tolerable.”

He laughed softly, adding a careful pinch of powdered moonstone to the cauldron. “Fine, tolerable. But admit it—you’re not having the worst time.”

“That’s a low bar,” I shot back, though my tone was more teasing than sharp.

Charles grinned, glancing at me as he stirred. “You’ve got a pretty high standard for everything, don’t you?”

“Is that a problem?” I asked, tilting my head.

“Not at all,” he said quickly. “It’s just... intense.”

“Intense?” I repeated, mock-offended. “Says the guy who just called potion-making ‘peaceful.’”

He laughed again, his shoulders shaking slightly. “Okay, fair point. But don’t you ever just... let things go?”

I stared at him. “Let things go? During a project? Absolutely not. That’s how you end up with an exploding cauldron.”

“Exploding cauldrons aside,” he said, still smiling, “I’m serious. Do you always approach life like it’s a competition?”

“Only when I feel like winning,” I said with a smirk.

Charles chuckled, shaking his head. “And you always feel like winning, I suppose?”

“See, you get it,” I said, gesturing to the potion.

He snickered, his green eyes bright with amusement. “You know, for someone so competitive, you’re surprisingly good company.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Surprisingly?”

“Don’t take it the wrong way,” he said quickly. “It’s just, you’re a bit... sharp at first.”

“Sharp,” I repeated, my tone flat.

“Sharp in a good way,” he added hastily. “Like a really good knife. Useful but intimidating.”

I couldn’t help it—I laughed. “That’s the strangest compliment I’ve ever received.”

“Well, it’s true,” he said, grinning. “You’re efficient, you know what you’re doing, and you don’t tolerate nonsense. It’s... refreshing.”

“Refreshing,” I said, my voice tinged with disbelief. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“Not when I’m trying to make someone smile,” he said, his tone surprisingly genuine.

I glanced at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice.

The conversation continued in that vein, shifting from light teasing to random topics.

By the end of the session, the potion was a shimmering, pearly white, its consistency smooth and flawless.

“Well,” Charles said, stepping back to admire the cauldron, “we didn’t blow anything up. I’d call that a win.”

“Low standards,” I said, though there was no real bite to my words.

He smiled at me, his green eyes softening. “I think we make a pretty good team.”

I didn’t respond immediately, my gaze flickering to the potion. “I guess we’re... okay,” I said finally, smirking.

“High praise,” he said, laughing.

…

I pushed open the heavy door to the Potions classroom, my steps measured but deliberate. My bag hung loosely from my shoulder, the weight of the day pulling at me in ways I hadn’t anticipated. I wasn’t stomping or slamming things, but the tension in my posture probably gave me away.

Charles was already at the table, as usual, his supplies perfectly laid out. He glanced up as I approached, his face brightening briefly before his brows knitted together.

“Evening,” he said carefully. “Everything alright?”

“Fine,” I replied, setting my bag down a little too heavily.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but didn’t push the matter.

The silence stretched between us as we began to unpack our supplies. I tried to focus on the potion, the familiar rhythm of measuring and stirring usually soothing. But tonight, it wasn’t enough to drown out Lance’s voice echoing in my head.

“Slytherin girls are all the same—good at charming their way to the top but not much else.”

The comment had been thrown so casually, like it wasn’t meant to sting. But it had, even though I hated admitting it.

I grabbed a vial of powdered moonstone, twisting the lid off with more force than necessary.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” Charles asked, his voice cutting through the quiet.

“Nothing,” I said quickly, though the sharpness in my tone betrayed me.

“Y/N,” he said gently, setting down his stirring rod. “Talk to me.”

I hesitated, my fingers tightening around the edge of the table. “It’s nothing important.”

“If it’s bothering you, it’s important,” he said, his tone softer now.

I glanced at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice.

Finally, I sighed. “Lance said something stupid. That’s all.”

Charles frowned, his easygoing demeanor shifting slightly. “What did he say?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said, focusing on the potion.

“Y/N,” he said again, his tone firmer now.

I glanced at him, surprised by the intensity in his green eyes. He wasn’t going to let this go.

“He made some stupid comment about Slytherin girls,” I admitted finally, setting down the vial. “Said we only get ahead because we know how to ‘charm’ people.”

Charles’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening slightly. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” I asked, forcing a laugh that sounded more bitter than amused. “It’s not like I haven’t heard it before.”

“Then they’re all idiots,” Charles said firmly, his voice low but steady.

I blinked, caught off guard by the heat in his words.

“You work harder than anyone I know,” he continued, his green eyes locking onto mine. “If Lance or anyone else can’t see that, that’s their problem—not yours.”

For a moment, I didn’t know what to say.

“Thanks,” I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

Charles nodded, his expression softening slightly. “You shouldn’t let people like him get to you. They’re not worth it.”

I managed a small smile, though the knot in my chest hadn’t entirely unraveled.

“Come on,” he said, straightening. “Let’s get out of here.”

I frowned. “What?”

“The potion’s fine,” he said, gesturing to the cauldron. “You need a break. Let’s go for a walk.”

I hesitated, glancing between him and the table. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he interrupted, his green eyes meeting mine.

Something about the quiet conviction in his voice made it impossible to argue.

The Astronomy Tower was quiet and still, the cool night air brushing against my skin as we stepped onto the open platform. The stars stretched endlessly above us, their light reflecting off the grounds below in a soft, silvery glow.

Charles leaned against the stone railing, his gaze fixed on the sky. “Better?”

“Maybe,” I admitted, my voice softer now.

He turned to look at me, his expression warm but serious. “Lance doesn’t define you, Y/N. You know that, right?”

I blinked, startled by the conviction in his voice.

“You’re one of the smartest, most capable people I’ve met,” he continued, his green eyes steady. “If he can’t see that, that’s his loss.”

There was a sincerity in his words that caught me off guard, making my chest feel uncomfortably tight.

“Thanks,” I said quietly, leaning against the railing beside him.

Charles smiled, the kind of smile that was small but genuine, like he didn’t need to say anything else.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward but peaceful, the kind that made you feel like words weren’t necessary.

As I glanced at Charles, I found myself noticing things I hadn’t before. The way his dark hair caught the moonlight, the soft curls brushing against his forehead. The faint dimple in his cheek when he smiled, even slightly. His green eyes, so vibrant in the dim light, seemed to reflect the stars above us.

He looked... different up here. Softer, somehow, but steady in a way that made me feel grounded.

I quickly looked away, focusing on the stars instead.

“You like stargazing?” he asked after a while, his voice low.

“Sometimes,” I admitted, my gaze still on the sky.

“It’s calming, isn’t it?” he said, leaning back slightly. “Makes everything else seem... smaller.”

I nodded, surprised by how much I agreed.

“I used to come up here all the time,” he said, his tone tinged with nostalgia. “Whenever I felt overwhelmed, this was my escape.”

“Overwhelmed?” I asked, glancing at him.

He smiled faintly, his gaze still on the stars. “Everyone expects you to be a certain way, you know? Happy, perfect, always doing the right thing. Sometimes it’s... a lot.”

I watched him quietly, his words hitting closer to home than I’d expected.

“But then I’d come up here, bring my favorite pizza,” he continued, his voice softer now. “And none of it mattered. It was just me and the stars.”

For a moment, I didn’t know what to say.

“That’s... nice,” I said finally, my voice quieter than before.

Charles turned to look at me, his expression thoughtful. “It is.”

The way he looked at me then, steady and unwavering, made something twist in my chest. It wasn’t the usual irritation I felt around him—this was something quieter, harder to define.

We stayed on the Astronomy Tower longer than I’d expected, our conversation drifting to lighter topics as the tension from earlier melted away.

When we finally made our way back to the dungeons, I felt... a little happy?

“Thanks for the walk,” I said as we reached the door to the common areas.

Charles smiled, his green eyes warm. “Anytime.”

As I watched him walk away, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of something unfamiliar in my stomach, as a sheepish smile appeared on my face.

…

When I walked into the Potions classroom, Charles was already there, hunched over the cauldron with his usual air of concentration. The dim torchlight flickered across his face, casting shadows along the sharp line of his jaw. He looked up as I entered, his green eyes catching the light in a way that was unfairly distracting.

“Right on time,” he said, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Were you waiting outside, counting down the minutes to see me?”

I dropped my bag onto the table with a soft thud, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t flatter yourself, Leclerc. I was contemplating skipping entirely.”

Charles chuckled, standing upright and brushing his hands together. “And miss our bonding time? That would’ve been tragic.”

“Bonding time?” I repeated, crossing my arms. “Is that what you call this?”

“Absolutely,” he said, grinning.

“Sure it is,” I said, smirking as I pulled out my notes. “Don’t mess up my grade, Leclerc.”

“I can do both,” he shot back, leaning casually against the table. “You’re just jealous because I make this look easy.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Easy? You’re the only person I’ve seen spill powdered moonstone twice in one session.”

“I prefer to call that... experimental flair,” he said giving me a wink.

“Keep telling yourself that,” I said, rolling my eyes, grinning wide.

We settled into a rhythm as we worked, the potion bubbling steadily between us. Charles had a way of working that was simultaneously precise and frustrating, his movements deliberate but occasionally overthought.

“You know,” I said, watching him carefully measure out the Essence of Belladonna, “you don’t have to treat every ingredient like it’s a baby bird. You can be a little faster.”

“Fast doesn’t always mean better,” he replied, glancing at me with a pointed look. “Sometimes patience pays off.”

“Or sometimes you’re just stalling because you don’t know what you’re doing,” I countered, smirking.

He laughed, shaking his head. “And here I thought you were finally being nicer to me.”

“Nice?” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Who said anything about that?”

“Come on,” he said, grinning. “You’re not nearly as mean to me as you used to be. Admit it—you’re starting to like me.”

I pretended to think for a moment. “I wouldn’t go that far. Tolerate, maybe.”

Charles laughed, the sound low and warm. “Admit it—I’m growing on you.”

“Like a particularly stubborn weed,” I said, smirking.

“Hey, weeds are resilient,” he said, grinning. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

By the time we finished, the potion shimmered with a pearly brilliance, the final stage completed without a single mishap.

“Not bad,” I said, leaning back slightly to admire our work.

“You mean brilliant,” Charles corrected, his tone light.

“Fine,” I said, smirking. “Brilliant. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” he said, his green eyes crinkling slightly as he smiled.

We packed up in companionable silence, the tension that had once defined our sessions now replaced by something easier, almost... comfortable.

As I reached for my bag, I caught Charles watching me, his expression unreadable.

“What?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, his grin returning. “Just wondering if you’ve always been this stubborn or if it’s just me.”

“Definitely just you,” I said, smirking as I slung my bag over my shoulder.

“Good to know,” he replied, his voice soft but teasing.

I lingered for a moment, something unspoken hanging in the air between us.

“Goodnight, Leclerc,” I said finally, breaking the silence.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he replied, his voice steady.

…

Charles and I were among the first to arrive, our cauldron resting on the designated table in front of Professor Steiner’s desk.

“Everything set?” Charles asked, glancing at me.

“Of course,” I replied, crossing my arms. “We’re the first ones here, aren’t we?”

“Just making sure,” he said, his grin soft and easy. “Wouldn’t want you to miss the chance to impress Steiner with your flawless execution.”

“Our flawless execution,” I corrected, smirking. “Try to keep up, Leclerc.”

“Glad to see you’re giving me credit now,” he replied, laughing softly.

As the classroom began to fill, familiar voices drifted through the air, weaving a tapestry of conversations.

“Alex, you’re going to spill that—”

“Relax, Carlos,” Alex replied, balancing their cauldron precariously as they set it down. “It’s fine. Look—steady as a broomstick.”

“That’s not exactly reassuring,” Carlos muttered, shaking his head.

“You think Steiner’s going to notice?” Max asked, eyeing their potion skeptically.

“Notice what?” Daniel replied innocently.

“The fact that it looks like swamp water,” Max said, smirking.

“Swamp chic,” Daniel said with a grin. “It’s ahead of its time.”

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Lando and Oscar setting up their station, Lando leaning lazily against the table while Oscar meticulously checked their notes.

“You’re doing great, mate,” Lando said, smirking. “Really carrying the team here.”

“You could at least pretend to help,” Oscar replied, shooting him a look.

“I’m supporting from the sidelines,” Lando said, grinning.

I rolled my eyes at their antics, turning my attention back to our potion.

“Alright,” Steiner began, his gravelly voice carrying over the room. “Let’s see how many of you managed to brew something that won’t explode.”

One by one, the pairs presented their potions, each receiving varying degrees of praise and critique.

Finally, it was our turn. Charles and I carefully carried our cauldron to the front, the pearly potion shimmering under the torchlight.

“Ah,” Steiner said, leaning closer to inspect it. “Now this... this is promising.”

Charles glanced at me, a small, triumphant smile tugging at his lips.

“Beautiful consistency,” Steiner continued. “No residue, perfect color, no burns on the cauldron. Very good work.”

I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of pride as Steiner turned to us expectantly. “And the scent?”

Charles stepped forward first, leaning over the cauldron to inhale deeply. His expression shifted slightly, his brows furrowing as if he was processing something unexpected.

“It’s... interesting,” he said after a moment, his voice thoughtful.

Steiner raised an eyebrow. “Care to elaborate?”

Charles straightened, a faint, almost playful smile on his lips. “No. I think I’ll keep it to myself.”

The room stirred with quiet amusement, a few pairs exchanging curious glances.

Steiner turned to me. “And you, Miss Y/N?”

I hesitated before stepping forward, leaning over the cauldron. The scent was immediate, wrapping around me like a memory I couldn’t quite place. Saltwater, crisp and sharp, like standing at the edge of a windswept cliff. Beneath it, there was the faint, warm aroma of polished wood, something sturdy and grounding. And finally, a subtle hint of... pizza margherita?

I straightened, my heart thudding softly in my chest.

“Well?” Steiner asked, his tone expectant.

“It’s... balanced,” I said carefully, keeping my voice steady. “Very harmonious.”

Steiner nodded, looking satisfied. “As it should be. Well done, both of you.”

Charles gave me a small nudge as we carried the cauldron back to our table. “Balanced and harmonious, huh?” he whispered.

“What can I say?” I replied, smirking. “I’m good with words.”

As we sat down, the other pairs finished their presentations.

“I’m just saying, it could’ve been worse,” Daniel said as he and Max returned to their seats.

“How?” Max asked, raising an eyebrow. “How could it possibly be worse?”

“Could’ve caught fire,” Daniel replied with a grin.

Lando and Oscar were next, their cauldron emitting a faint but odd scent as Steiner leaned over it.

“Well,” Steiner said after a moment, “it’s certainly... unique.”

“See?” Lando said, clapping Oscar on the back. “Unique. Told you it was brilliant.”

Oscar sighed heavily, muttering something under his breath.

As the session ended and students began to leave, Charles lingered at our table, packing up his supplies with his usual care.

“What did you smell?” I asked suddenly, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

Charles glanced at me, his expression unreadable. “Why? Curious?”

“Just wondering,” I said, trying to sound casual.

He smiled faintly, his green eyes catching the torchlight. “I’ll tell you if you tell me.”

I hesitated, quickly looking away. “Never mind.”

Charles laughed softly, the sound low and warm. “Suit yourself.”

As we walked out of the classroom, his words lingered in my mind, mingling with the memory of the scent I couldn’t quite shake.

Ocean. Polished wood. Pizza margherita.

It was unmistakable. It was him.

…

The Slytherin common room was quiet, the kind of rare silence that felt stolen rather than earned. I sat curled in one of the oversized armchairs near the fire, letting the green-tinted flames flicker patterns across the walls. The day had been long, but I was finally alone with my thoughts—unfortunately, those thoughts had been annoyingly preoccupied with one person.

I should’ve known the peace wouldn’t last.

The door slammed open, and I didn’t even need to look to know who it was. Lando’s footsteps were as distinctive as his personality—loud, unapologetic, and just the right amount of chaotic.

“Well, if it isn’t Madame Amortentia herself,” he announced, throwing himself into the chair across from me.

I sighed, not even bothering to look up. “Do you ever knock?”

“On a common room?” he replied, feigning shock. “What do you think I am? A bloody Hufflepuff?”

“Don’t let Charles hear you say that,” I muttered.

“Oh, so we’re talking about Charles now,” Lando said, leaning forward with a gleam in his eye.

I immediately regretted opening my mouth. “What do you want, Lando?”

“To know what you smelled, darling! Can’t believe you haven’t told me yet,” he said, grinning.

I blinked at him. “What?”

“The potion,” he said, his grin widening. “The Amortentia. What did you smell?”

“I thought you were in the room,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

“I was,” he replied, shrugging. “But Steiner didn’t exactly announce your deepest secrets to the class, did he? So, what was it?”

I hesitated, knowing full well that any answer would only add fuel to the fire.

“Nothing important,” I said finally, turning my gaze back to the flames.

“Nothing important?” Lando repeated, his tone dripping with disbelief. “Y/N, it’s Amortentia. It’s literally the most important thing.”

“Not to me,” I said firmly.

“You’re such a liar,” he said, laughing. “Come on, tell me. I won’t judge.”

“You will absolutely judge,” I replied, glaring at him.

“Fair,” he said, smirking. “But I’ll keep it to myself. Scout’s honor.”

“You’ve never been a Scout,” I muttered.

“Semantics,” he said, waving a hand. “Now, spill.”

I sighed, knowing there was no escaping him. “Fine. It was... saltwater. And wood. And pizza margherita.”

Lando stared at me for a moment before bursting into laughter.

“Pizza margherita?” he repeated, clutching his sides. “Are you serious?”

I rolled my eyes. “You said you wouldn’t judge.”

“I lied,” he said between fits of laughter. “That is the most ridiculous combination I’ve ever heard.”

“Thanks,” I said dryly. “Glad I could entertain you.”

“But wait,” he said, sitting up suddenly, his grin turning wicked. “Saltwater? Wood? Pizza? That’s Leclerc, isn’t it?”

My stomach twisted, but I kept my face neutral. “It could mean anything.”

“Sure,” Lando said, smirking. “Anything like... broomsticks, the ocean, and the one guy who eats pizza at every Hogsmeade visit?”

“It doesn’t mean anything,” I insisted, my voice rising slightly.

“Oh, it means everything,” Lando said, leaning forward. “You’re done for. Absolutely smitten.”

“I am not smitten,” I snapped.

“You’re blushing,” he pointed out gleefully.

“I am not blushing,” I said, though my cheeks betrayed me.

“Y/N,” he said, grinning. “This is amazing. You, the untouchable, too-cool-for-anyone Slytherin, has a crush on a Hufflepuff.”

“Say that louder,” I said sarcastically, glaring at him. “I don’t think the first-years in the dungeon heard you.”

“Admit it,” he said, crossing his arms. “You like him.”

I stared at him for a long moment, the words forming on my tongue before I could stop them. “Fine,” I said quietly. “Maybe I do.”

Lando’s eyes widened, and for a moment, he was actually speechless.

“Wait, really?” he said finally, his grin returning. “This is even better than I thought.”

“Lando, I swear—”

“No, no, this is great,” he said, cutting me off. “You’ve got to tell him.”

“Absolutely not,” I said quickly.

“Why not?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.

“Because it’s ridiculous,” I said. “And it’s none of his business.”

“It’s literally all of his business,” Lando said, grinning. “You smelled him in a love potion. That’s fate.”

“Fate doesn’t smell like pizza,” I muttered.

Lando laughed so hard he nearly fell out of his chair. “Oh, this is too good.”

I buried my face in my hands, groaning. “Why are we friends?”

“Because I’m the only one who tells you the truth,” he said, his voice still tinged with laughter.

“And what’s the truth, then?” I asked, glaring at him through my fingers.

“That you like Charles,” he said simply. “And he probably likes you, too.”

My stomach did a little flip. The words hung in the air, heavier than I’d expected. I didn’t know what to say, so I stayed quiet, the crackle of the fire filling the silence.

“You should do something about it,” Lando said after a moment, his tone softer now.

“Like what?” I asked, my voice quieter.

“We need a party,” he said, grinning again. “And we invite him.”

…

The Slytherin common room was a cacophony of sound and motion, transformed into a celebration only Lando could orchestrate. The green-tinted lanterns overhead flickered in rhythm with the enchanted music, casting shimmering shadows across the stone walls. Snacks, drinks, and laughter filled the room, the air thick with the smoky tang of firewhiskey and the faint warmth of burning candles.

I stood near the snack table, nursing a glass of firewhiskey that burned pleasantly as it went down. The heat steadied me—something I desperately needed tonight.

Lando, of course, was everywhere. He flitted between groups like the chaos incarnate he was, occasionally pausing to throw me an annoyingly knowing look. I ignored him, focusing instead on the flickering green flames of the fireplace.

“This is your party, you know,” Lando said suddenly, appearing at my side as if summoned by my irritation.

“It’s not my party,” I replied, not looking up from my drink.

“Oh, it absolutely is,” he said, smirking. “Top marks in Potions, the best Amortentia the class has ever seen, and the most interesting guest list Slytherin’s hosted in years? You should be thanking me.”

“For what?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Making my life harder?”

“For making it interesting,” he replied smoothly.

I sighed, taking another sip. Before I could respond, the crowd stirred, and I glanced up instinctively.

Charles had arrived.

He stood in the doorway, scanning the room with a tentative smile. He wasn’t in his uniform tonight, and the change hit me harder than I expected. A dark sweater clung to his frame, the sleeves pushed up to reveal strong forearms, and his hair—perfectly messy—framed his face in a way that made his green eyes seem even brighter.

“Great,” I muttered under my breath, looking away quickly.

Lando, of course, noticed immediately. “Well, well, well,” he said, his grin practically glowing. “If it isn’t your boyfriend.”

“He’s not—”

Lando cut me off with a dramatic wave. “Oi, Charles! Over here!”

I barely resisted the urge to throttle him as Charles’s gaze landed on us. His smile widened slightly, and he began making his way over.

“Stop it,” I hissed, glaring at Lando.

“I’m just helping,” he said, smirking. “You’re welcome.”

Charles reached the snack table, his easy grin lighting up the space. “Y/N,” he said warmly. “This is... impressive.”

“Lando’s idea,” I said quickly, keeping my eyes on my glass.

“Well, he did a good job,” Charles said, his voice light.

I nodded, still avoiding his gaze.

Charles tilted his head, his brows knitting slightly. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” I replied, the words escaping too quickly to sound believable.

“You sure?” he asked, his tone softening.

“Positive,” I said, finally forcing myself to meet his eyes. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He hesitated, clearly unconvinced, but nodded. “Alright, if you say so.”

As he turned to join Alex and Carlos near the fireplace, I exhaled sharply and took another sip of firewhiskey.

“That,” Lando said, appearing at my side like a smug apparition, “was embarrassing.”

I glared at him. “Go away.”

“Not a chance,” he said, grinning. “You’re making this too fun.”

Charles didn’t stay in one place for long. He moved through the room with a quiet ease, pausing to chat with everyone he passed. I tried to focus on anything else, but my eyes kept drifting toward him—his laugh, his smile, the way he leaned casually against the fireplace like he belonged there.

“You know,” Lando said, sidling up to me again, “you could just talk to him.”

“I talk to him all the time,” I replied, rolling my eyes.

“Not like that,” Lando said, smirking. “I mean really talk to him. You know, like a human.”

“I am human,” I snapped.

“Debatable,” he said, stealing a sip from my glass.

I snatched it back, glaring at him. “Lando, leave it alone.”

“Never,” he said cheerfully. “Especially not when it’s this obvious.”

“It’s not obvious,” I said, though the heat in my cheeks betrayed me.

“Oh, it is,” he said, smirking. “And honestly? You’re lucky he hasn’t figured it out yet.”

“Figured what out?” Max asked, appearing out of nowhere with a plate of biscuits.

“Nothing,” I said quickly.

“Y/N’s tragic love story,” Lando replied smoothly.

I shot him a murderous look. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” he said, grinning.

The night wore on, the common room growing louder as the firewhiskey flowed more freely. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t avoid Charles forever. Every time I turned around, he was there—talking with Alex, laughing with Daniel, or glancing in my direction when he thought I wasn’t looking.

Lando, of course, continued to stir the pot.

“Y/N, Charles is looking for you,” he said loudly as I passed him on the way to the snack table.

“He is not,” I hissed, my cheeks flushing.

“Oh, but he is,” Lando said, smirking. “And you should probably do something about it before he gives up.”

“I’ll do something about you,” I muttered, grabbing another glass of firewhiskey.

Finally, as the night began to wind down, Charles approached me again.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked, his voice warm.

I nodded, swirling the firewhiskey in my glass. “You?”

“It’s been nice,” he said, leaning casually against the table. “Good company.”

I smiled faintly, the warmth of the drink loosening my nerves. “Lando’s idea of a party is always... chaotic.”

“Chaotic, but fun,” he said, his green eyes glinting with amusement. “Kind of like him.”

I laughed softly. “That’s one way to put it.”

He studied me for a moment, his expression shifting. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

I hesitated, the weight of his gaze making my chest tighten. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just seem... different tonight,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Distracted.”

I forced a laugh, shaking my head. “Maybe it’s the firewhiskey.”

“Maybe,” he said, though he didn’t sound convinced.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. His eyes held mine, steady and searching, and I felt the familiar nerves in my stomach.

“Well,” I said finally, breaking the silence, though my voice came out softer than I intended.

Charles didn’t respond right away. Instead, his gaze lingered on me, his green eyes warm and with a light twinkle. The noise of the room seemed to blur into the background, leaving just the quiet weight of his presence.

His expression softened, a small, almost hesitant smile tugging at his lips. The air felt heavier, charged in a way that made my chest tighten.

“I should go to bed,” I said abruptly, the words tumbling out faster than I meant. I stepped back, breaking the spell as I clutched my empty glass for something to focus on.

Charles blinked, seeming to come back to reality himself. “Yeah,” he said, his tone lighter now. “Yeah, uhm, I should probably head out too.”

There was a pause, something neither of us filled right away.

“Well, goodnight,” I said, glancing at him briefly before turning toward the stairs leading to the dorms.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said, his voice soft and steady, following me even as I walked away.

I climbed the stairs quickly, my heart thudding harder than I cared to admit.

…

The dormitory was suffocating. My thoughts churned endlessly, replaying every look, every laugh, every moment from the party with Charles. His steady gaze, the faint smirk on his lips, the warmth in his green eyes—all of it had etched itself into my mind.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

Throwing on my cloak, I slipped out of bed and tiptoed past the rows of sleeping Slytherins. The common room was empty now, its usual flickering green light dimmed to a soft glow. Even the fire was just a faint ember, its warmth fading. The silence was a relief, but I needed more than that.

I needed space.

The halls were eerily quiet as I wandered, my footsteps soft against the stone. I didn’t have a destination in mind, but my feet carried me to the Astronomy Tower, as they so often did when I needed to think.

The moment I stepped onto the open platform, the cool night air hit me, sharp and bracing. The stars above stretched endlessly, their faint light illuminating the grounds below. I leaned against the railing, inhaling deeply and letting the quiet settle around me.

“You couldn’t sleep either?”

I jumped, my heart leaping into my throat at the sound of his voice. Turning quickly, I saw Charles leaning casually against the opposite railing, his cloak draped loosely over his shoulders.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he replied, smiling faintly. “But if you must know, I was taking a walk.”

“Taking a walk?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow. “At this hour?”

He shrugged, his green eyes glinting faintly in the moonlight. “Couldn’t sleep.”

I hesitated, gripping the railing tighter. “And you thought the Astronomy Tower was the best place to fix that?”

“Maybe,” he said, stepping closer. “Or maybe I thought I’d find you here.”

My heart stumbled at his words, but I forced myself to keep my expression neutral. “Why would you think that?”

Charles tilted his head, his gaze softening. “You’ve been... different lately.”

“Different?” I repeated, my voice wary.

“You’ve been distracted,” he said simply.

My chest tightened, and I looked away, focusing on the stars instead of him. “I’m fine.”

“You keep saying that,” he said, his voice quieter now. “But I don’t believe you.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us felt heavier than the quiet night should’ve allowed. Charles leaned against the railing beside me, his shoulder brushing mine lightly.

“What’s bothering you?” he asked eventually, his voice low and steady.

“It’s nothing,” I replied quickly, though even I didn’t believe the words.

“You’re lying,” he said, his tone soft but firm.

I turned to glare at him, though there was no real anger behind it. “Why do you care?”

Charles smirked faintly, his green eyes catching the starlight. “Because you’re usually better at hiding whatever’s on your mind. This must be serious.”

I huffed, looking away again. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told,” he said lightly.

His calm, teasing tone grated against my nerves, and yet... it also made the tightness in my chest ease just slightly.

“Is this about the potion?” he asked suddenly, his voice dropping just enough to make my pulse jump.

I froze, my fingers tightening around the railing. “What makes you think that?”

Charles shrugged, his smirk widening. “Call it a hunch. You’ve been weird ever since we smelled it.”

“I haven’t been weird,” I said quickly, too quickly.

“Y/N,” he said, his tone filled with amusement, “you’ve been avoiding me, stumbling over your words, and blushing more than usual. I’m pretty sure that qualifies as weird.”

“I don’t blush,” I muttered, though my cheeks were already warming.

“You do now,” he said, laughing softly. “It’s cute.”

The silence stretched again, but this time it felt charged. Charles turned slightly, his body angled toward me, and I could feel the weight of his gaze.

“What did you smell?” he asked, his voice soft.

My heart raced, every muscle in my body screaming at me to say something, anything but the truth. But the longer I stayed silent, the more his gaze lingered, steady and unrelenting.

“Nothing important,” I said finally, though the words sounded weak even to me.

“Y/N,” he said, stepping closer. “Come on.”

“Are you done?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

“Not even close,” he said, his green eyes sparkling with mischief. “Because if I had to guess, I’d say it smelled like someone you know.”

I hesitated, my pulse quickening. “What makes you think that?”

Charles smirked, tilting his head slightly. “Because you can’t look me in the eye right now. That’s usually a giveaway.”

I exhaled sharply, the tension in my chest building with every passing second.

My pulse pounded in my ears as I looked away, my grip on the railing tightening. “It smelled like... saltwater. And wood. And... pizza margherita.” I said finally, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.

Charles blinked, his expression shifting. “What?”

“I smelled you,” I admitted finally, the words barely above a whisper.

His green eyes softened, his smile fading into something more genuine. “Me?”

“Don’t make me say it again,” I muttered, looking away.

He was quiet for a moment, the weight of my confession hanging between us. Then, slowly, his lips curved into a teasing smile. “So, what you’re saying is... you think I’m handsome?”

I groaned, my cheeks burning. “That’s not what I said.”

“No, but it’s what you meant,” he said, grinning now.

“You’re ridiculous,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him.

“Ridiculously charming,” he replied smoothly, his grin widening. ”At least, according to you apparently.”

His bright eyes met mine, the teasing glint fading as his gaze turned serious. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because,” I said, my voice trembling slightly, “it’s complicated.”

“Nothing’s complicated,” he said gently, his fingers brushing against mine. “Not if we don’t let it be.”

I swallowed hard, the warmth of his touch grounding me. “I didn’t know if you felt the same.”

Charles smiled, his green eyes crinkling at the corners. “Y/N, I’ve liked you for a long time.”

I stared at him, my heart pounding. “You have?”

He nodded, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from my face. “I smelled the cookies you baked for us.”

Before I could respond, Charles closed the distance between us, his movements deliberate yet unhurried. His lips met mine with a warmth that sent a shiver through me, like stepping into sunlight after a long, cold winter. The kiss was gentle, not hesitant but full of a quiet certainty that left no room for doubt.

His hand slid up to cup my cheek, the roughness of his fingertips against my skin grounding me, steadying the wild, racing thoughts that had consumed me for days. I felt the weight of his presence in that touch—calm and sure, like he had been waiting for this moment far longer than I’d realized.

I leaned into him instinctively, my hands grasping the edges of his cloak, the thick, familiar fabric anchoring me. His other hand settled lightly against my waist, pulling me closer. The kiss deepened, slow and unhurried yet somehow desperate, as if we were trying to say all the things we hadn’t dared to speak.

The scent of him—something crisp and clean, faintly woodsy—mixed with the cool night air, and my heart pounded so loudly I was sure he could hear it. My chest ached, not from fear or nerves, but from the overwhelming realization that this felt right.

When we finally parted, his lips lingered a moment longer, as though neither of us wanted the spell to break. His green eyes searched mine, earnest and unwavering, his breath mingling with mine in the stillness of the tower.

“I told you I never wanted to be friends,” he admitted, a faint smile tugging at his lips, the words carrying a weight that felt familiar.

“Good,” I replied softly, my heart racing as I echoed his earlier words. “Because I don’t think I could ever settle for just friends.”

#f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x you #cl16 x reader #cl16 one shot #charles leclerc one shot #harry potter imagine

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punksyeet · 2 days ago

Text

ᰔᩚ Confessions ᰔᩚ

Plot: Gianna (OC) has been split from her ex for two years now. He drops their daughter off from visits with him every weekend, but this one ends a bit differently.

Warning: Talks of smut & hefty flirting!

"Mommy!" my daughter calls out excitedly, hopping out of my ex Joshua's car as soon as he parks.

I crouch down and she runs straight into my arms, to which I respond with a tight hug.

"Hi baby!" I reply excitedly, before kissing her cheek. "How was your time with daddy?"

"It was so much fun!" she replies, looking up at me. "We baked cookies and watched all the Barbie movies."

I chuckle and look up at him, still responding to her. "Sounds like you guys had a blast. I'm sorry I missed it."

He responds with a soft smile on his face - the same gorgeous smile I fell in love with all those years ago.

For context, Josh and I were together for 6 years and have been seperated for 2.

We started dating at the ages of 19 and 23, so naturally, some stupid decisions were made - one of which, lead to our daughter Jalina.

As big of a mistake as it was at the time, becoming a mom has changed my life for the better.

And my love for her somehow grows more and more every day.

She has all of her dad's features: his curly dark hair, big chocolate brown eyes, perfectly round nose, full lips that turn into a gorgeous smile, and even the exact caramel-like shade of his Samoan skin.

As for why we split in the first place, it was mainly because of the distance.

As the years of our relationship rolled on, Josh was getting more and more involved with WWE, and the traveling and time spent away was no joke.

From live shows, to weekly matches, and even occasional PPVs outside of the country, we barely got to see each other.

Which of course, caused us to drift apart and make the mutual decision of parting ways.

Unfortunately, our daughter had already been 4 by that time, so the breakup not only confused her, but hit her hard.

Just to be clear, the attraction is still in full effect, at least over here.

Josh is still very much the most attractive man I've ever laid eyes on, and his subtle ways of flirting with me to this day have lead me to believe he feels the same.

Anyway, fast forward to now, Jalina is 6 years old and spends time with both of her parents separately.

Her home is here with me in Savannah, but when Josh is off from work, she goes and visits with him in Atlanta.

"It's okay mom," Jalina replies, setting her backpack down onto the floor in the doorway. "I brought home some cookies for you."

She pulls out and hands me a tupperware container filled to the brim with cookies, sprinkled with pink sugar crystals.

I smile and kiss her temple. "That's very sweet of you, baby. Thank you."

She smiles and zips her backpack up again, throwing one of the straps over her shoulder.

"LiLi why don't you head upstairs and unpack," Josh suggests, stroking her hair gently.

"Okay daddy," she replies, wrapping her arms around his waist.

I smile as they share a quick hug and kiss before she runs inside and upstairs.

The jingle of the key chains on her backpack zippers gets quieter and quieter, causing me to stand up and brush off my biker shorts.

"You hungry?" I ask, breaking the comfortable silence. "I was in the middle of making dinner when you guys arrived.”

Josh gives me a soft smile. "What kind of man would I be if I turned down your cooking?"

I smile, playfully roll my eyes, and walk back into the house, inviting him to follow me.

He does, shutting the door behind him and taking a seat on a stool at the island.

"So," he begins again, watching me as I transfer the cookies into a Ziplock bag. "How's everything been?"

I shrug, sliding the zipper across the top. "Quiet, thank God. How's work?"

He tilts his head, nodding. "Busy as usual. You been keeping up with the shows?"

"Haven't I always?" I tease, setting the cookies to the side and turning around to open the fridge and grab some ingredients for a side salad to go with dinner.

I hear him chuckle from behind me. "Aight fair enough. I appreciate your support though forreal."

On my way over to the sink to wash some vegetables, I can practically feel his gaze on my ass.

I grab a cutting board and knife, and head back over to the island counter.

"No worries," I finally reply, cutting off the ends of a cucumber. "Half the time Jalina is the one to turn on the channels to watch her daddy, so it's not like I have much of a choice."

"Gee thanks," he replies sarcastically, causing me to giggle.

Comfortable silence falls over the room again, as the faint sound of our daughter playing with her dolls upstairs echoes throughout the house.

"Can I help with anything?" he asks, as I turn back to the stove to stir the pasta.

I think for a minute. "You can set the table if you'd like."

"Cool," he replies, the sound of his footsteps getting closer.

His hand lightly grazes against my hip, as he reaches up to open the cabinet and grab three dishes.

And, as if nothing has changed, I automatically get goosebumps in reaction to the feeling of his soft fingertips against my body.

"You cold?" he asks, walking past me smirking.

This mother fucker.

"Boy shut up," I reply, taking the pot off the heat and over to the sink to strain the pasta water.

He chuckles and heads over to me once the table is all set.

"I know you missed me," he teases, hugging me from behind.

"Don't flatter yourself," I lie, shaking the strainer to get all of the excess water out. "And our daughter is just upstairs. Don't act like an idiot please."

"You're acting like she wouldn't love to have her parents back together," he mumbles, his hot breath against my ear. "And besides, you ain't pushed me away yet."

He got me there.

"Whatever," I mutter, heading back over to the stove and pouring the pasta into my homemade Alfredo sauce.

He comes up from behind me again, his big hands stroking my sides, and somehow leaving even more goosebumps behind.

"Good comeback," he mumbles, and starts kissing my neck.

I bite my lower lip gently and tilt my head back, laying it against his chest to give him more access. "Joshua..."

"Feels good, huh?" he coos sexily against my jawline. "Daddy could never forget your favorite spots."

Once the pasta and sauce are fully combined, I turn towards him and fold my arms. "Josh, we've been apart for well over 2 years. What makes you think I'd still call you daddy?"

I mean, of course I would.

But this explanation should be interesting.

He cups my face, his thumb stroking my cheek and his dreamy eyes staring deep into mine.

"I remember all those late nights," he begins, caressing my ass with his free hand. "When this ass was all mine. I loved seeing it arched in the air while I fucked you from behind. My favorite was when I'd shove my face in it to swallow that pussy whole. All you said was 'daddy please' this and 'yes daddy' that. You miss that just as much as I do, huh baby?"

With every dirty memory that leaves his dreamy lips, I feel myself getting wetter and wetter.

God, the things this man does to me.

"More than anything," I reply, my voice just above a whisper. "But I don't miss being apart from you all the time. We'd have sex just like you said, and then I wouldn't see you for a week, sometimes two. I felt so alone. So used."

His eyes sadden, as his thumb starts to stroke my cheek again. "We were so young, baby. But we're grown now. We know better and we can make it work. I'm willing to try again, if you are."

I let out a deep sigh, wrapping my arms around his neck and playing with his curls. "I don't know."

"Say yes mama," he practically begs, his thumb now grazing my bottom lip. "I've been missing you so much. I'd give anything to have your beautiful self belong to me again. For our daughter to have her mommy and daddy back together again. To come home after a long day and fall asleep with this gorgeous body in my arms again. I love you baby. Just say the words and I'll be your Jey-Daddy again."

Jey-Daddy.

A nickname I gave him the first time we ever had sex.

So many unwanted memories, but so many good ones too.

I take a deep breath before standing on my tippy toes and pressing my lips to his.

I don't know why I'm doing this instead of responding, but it feels so good.

Better than words anyway.

He automatically responds, wrapping his arms around my waist, pulling me closer, making the kiss slow and passionate.

Our lips and tongues move perfectly in sync as he lightly grips my neck.

When we finally pull away, he looks into my eyes again. "So is that a yes?"

I lick my lips and give him a soft smile. "Yeet."

He smiles back and pecks my lips then left cheek before pulling me into a hug.

I hug back, resting my head against his chest and inhaling his delicious cocoa butter scent.

"My beautiful lady," he coos, resting his chin on my head. "I love you."

"I love you too," I reply, rubbing his back. "I never stopped."

He kisses my temple and rocks us back and forth.

—————————————————————————————————

The light snores coming from Jalina and Josh fill the room as the credits to "Cinderella III: A Twist in Time" roll on the living room TV.

I press the power button on the remote and look over at the two loves of my life.

Could I be any more lucky?

I pick Jalina up and off of Josh, making sure to be extra careful so that I don't wake either of them up.

She stirs in her sleep but wraps her arms around my neck, causing me to smile softly.

I carry her upstairs and lay her in her bed, lifting the blankets onto her body and making sure to tuck her in extra comfortably.

I press a gentle kiss to her forehead before quietly leaving her bedroom, shutting the door behind me.

I head back downstairs and find Josh still asleep on the couch.

I chuckle quietly at the sound of his loud snores and kneel onto the cushion next to him.

I gently cup his face and stroke his cheek, to which he responds with his eyes fluttering open and a soft smile when he sees me. "Hi baby."

"Hi sleepyhead," I tease, running my fingers through his curls. "I brought Jalina up to bed. You guys were knocked out by the time the movie ended."

He chuckles in response and rubs his eyes while stretching.

"I didn't wanna wake you," I continue. "But I know you have to be somewhere tomorrow and the couch might not be the most comfortable."

He smiles again, and strokes my cheek. "You're an angel, baby. Thank you."

We share a quick kiss before I take his hand and lead us upstairs to bed.

Once we're all cozy under the covers, we just kinda lay there, staring into each other's eyes.

"What?" I ask shyly, blushing like a maniac.

One thing about this man: he's always gonna make me blush regardless of the 6 years we spent together.

He chuckles and removes a curl from my face. "You're so pretty, baby."

"Thank you," I reply looking down, my face hot to the touch.

He gently lifts my chin and stares deep into my eyes.

"I'm so happy you're mine again." *Kiss* "You're everything." *Kiss* "I love you so much, baby. And I will for as long as you'll let me." *One final kiss*

I kiss back each time and bite my bottom lip after the last one before speaking up. "I love you too. More than you'll ever know."

We share a smile as I wrap my arms around him.

He rubs my lower back and buries his head into my neck, giving me a ton of kisses there too.

When we finally pull away, he puckers his lips and I giggle before accepting his offer, pressing mine to his once more.

Soon enough, we drift off to sleep in each other's arms.

Lord, thank you for bringing the man of my dreams back into my life.

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carbondioxidewater · 9 hours ago

Text

Make A Move (Pt. 5)

footballplayer!Sukuna x fem!reader

genre: slow-burn romance, college au, fluff, angst

warnings: none so far

word: 3.1

(-> Pt. 1) (-> Pt. 2) (-> Pt. 3) (-> Pt. 4) (-> masterlist)

On sunday morning, you woke up early, even though you hadn't been sleeping much. The events of the previous day came back to you one after the other. First, you thought about the game and Sukuna's impressive skills in it.

You reflected on the motorcycle ride with him and how he drove you to the Rainbow Bridge just so you could see the city at night. That must've been one of the most thoughtful things anyone has ever done for you. You turned over on your side in your bed, smiling.

And then you remembered how you almost kissed and how he treated you completely different later at the party than when you were alone. A feeling of embarrassment washed over you again at the thought that everyone present had noticed Sukuna not wanting to kiss you. Not that you were dying to feel his soft lips, probably salty from the sweat - no, that wasn't it. Because even if that were the case, it was more the fact of how and why he rejected you that was bothering you.

But asking him was out of the question. After all, you still had enough pride left to not give him that pleasure. After all, he wasn't obliged to kiss you. You shouldn't let anything show, otherwise he might get the wrong idea. And with that mentality, you went to your first lecture on Monday.

After the lecture, you entered the cafeteria. Today they cooked vegetarian pasta again and it always tasted delicious. You grabbed a plate, had it filled up, and walked over to the where the silverware was. As you were putting down your tray, someone spoke up directly from the side.

"I got your message, by the way."

You weren't startled this time.

"Did you know that people usually greet each other before starting a conversation?" you expressed calmly and Sukuna burst out laughing. You always managed to entertain him.

"Sorry, hi princess."

"Hi." you said quietly, a gloomy feeling at the nickname. "What message?"

"Yuji told me he should wish me 'good luck' from you."

"So?"

"Well, I certainly was lucky, after all you really came. But..." he didn't finish his sentence, obviously waiting for your reaction. Was he really trying to flirt with you again? This man was difficult.

You took your tray and moved towards one of the tables. Of course Sukuna followed you and sat down on the opposite chair. You sighed.

"But what, Sukuna? What do you want?" you asked in annoyance.

"You should give me your number. I couldn't even make sure you got home safe on Saturday." he flashed his shiny white teeth at you.

"Why do you care? I went home with my friends." you said, but not snippy, more in a neutral tone.

"I know that." he simply returned and didn't seem to have anything else to say. He just looked at you.

Seriously? He doesn't mention what happened at all? Well, if he can act like nothing happened, so can you.

"I don't like being watched while eating." you said bluntly and Sukuna couldn't help but smile.

"Why, are your table manners so terrible?" he countered. You puffed.

"Aren't you hungry?" you then asked, whereupon he told you that he had already eaten.

"I saw you and with you the opportunity."

"The opportunity for what?" you then questioned.

"Asking you for your number."

"You have my address already, that should be enough."

You would not let him get any closer to you.

He chuckled and you ate the first forkful of pasta.

"So you don't want to give it to me?" he carried on.

"Obviously not."

"Okay, I'll find a way. Oh, and enjoy your meal." he winked at you. And then he stood up and left the table.

Finally you could eat in peace.

You didn't see him for the next few days, which gave you enough time to concentrate on your studies. It was thursday evening and you had to give in your assignment for neurolinguistics, the due date was today. You quickly finished explaining how the priming effect works, when suddenly Utahime entered your room with the mail in her hand.

"Oh, are you finished for today already?" you asked, referring to her job, to which she nodded.

"But look at this!" she said, astonished, and waved a letter in front of your face.

The letter was addressed to you, but had no sender. Strange.

You opened it and the content was a single sheet of paper with a few lines written on it.

"You're right, your address is enough. If you don't want to give me your number, I'll have to try this way ;)"

Your face immediately heated up, you never thought he would go out of his way like that. But what was he doing that for? What was his ulterior motive?

Utahime saw your shocked face and read the letter. Then she laughed.

"Wow, he's really trying. Have you eaten yet? Should we order something?"

And together, you ended the evening with a juicy pizza.

But on the next day, you found a note in your locker too. You opened the folded paper and it said:

"Meet me under the bleachers"

Oh God, your heart was pounding. Just what was he thinking?

You decided to meet him at the stands to ask him to stop this whole thing. Even though you were really flattered by the attention, it still hurt your ego that he apparently thought he could win you over like that. Was it working? Maybe a little, but he didn't have to know that. And you definitely wouldn't fall for it any further.

When you finally got there, there was no sign of him. You asked the few players practicing on the field about him.

"Sukuna? No, he's not here. As far as I know he has a philosophy class right now."

Philosophy? You didn't even know that was his second subject. But that explained why he was around you so often, because philosophy and linguistics were taught in the same building. But why did he send you here then? Nothing he did made sense and you were slowly getting fed up with this chaos.

You were just on your way back into the building when all of a sudden, you bumped into someone's back on accident. He turned around and to your surprise, it was the menace himself.

"Careful." he laughed lightly. But you were a bit pissed at him right now and just walked past him. He walked after you.

"Hey, where are you going?" he yelled.

"I don't feel like playing your games. Find someone else to annoy." you said without even looking at him.

He grabbed your wrist and brought you to a stop. When you tried to escape his grip, he blocked you with his arm and caged you in.

"Calm down. What's going on with you?" Sukuna exclaimed.

"No, what's going on with you? Why do you leave those notes in my locker, arrange a meeting and then don't come?"

"That's what it is about?" He chuckled. "Now do you see how complicated it is? If I had your number, you would have known when I wrote the message."

You were flabbergasted, was that really his plan behind all this? To show you the need to exchange numbers?

"Or you can just write the time next time!" you spat out.

"Next time? So you like when I leave you letters?" he smirked and upset you with his presumptuous words.

"Don't twist my words..." you pouted and looked to the side. He let you go now, you had calmed down.

"Then what do you say: We have another game next Friday. If we win, I get your number, if we lose... well, you can choose."

"Why do you want my number so badly?" you probed.

"Because I like you. You're fun to be around."

This confession knocked you off balance, but you swallowed your speechlessness. In the end, two could play that game.

"Okay, if you lose, you'll never ask me for my number again." You smiled mischievously and he followed suit, tilting your chin upwards with his big hand before responding.

"It's settled then."

You stayed at Shoko's for the weekend, since you wanted to binge-watch the new season of your series. Utahime didn't like the show and had to work anyway, so it was just the two of you tonight.

After a few episodes, however, it turned into a deep talk session. You told Shoko everything that had happened with Sukuna so far and she reprimanded you for getting into this 'pact'.

"His team will win either way, the only ones who would have a chance against them are the UOT." she explained and you thought about her words.

UOT? Of course! They say their quarterback is on par with Sukuna. They are the biggest rivals!

"Are they gonna play against each other too?" you wondered.

"I think not until the very end of the season. That's the most important game after all."

The end of the season... So in about 8 weeks. But wait a minute...

"How do you even know that?" you stared at Shoko in amazement and she looked up at the ceiling.

"A few of my high school friends are on this team. Utahime knows them too."

"What? Why am I only finding out about this now?" you shifted in your seat, grinning at her. She shrugged.

"I never thought it was important. After all, you haven't been interested in football until now."

You nodded. Then your phone rang. You took it from the coffee table and saw that it was Utahime, but before you could even pick up, she already hung up.

"Who was it?" Shoko interrupted and you told her, but you two didn't think much of it.

You thought that maybe she called you on accident, so you sent her a message asking "are you okay?" and checked her location. She was still at the hotel. A few minutes later, she finally replied and confirmed that everything was indeed alright.

"Okay she just replied, she's fine. But next time we're all together, you two have to tell me more about your mysterious old friends." You waggled your eyebrows and Shoko laughed.

"Yeah, yeah, even if there's not really much to tell."

And then you were back in the stadium, this time, on your campus. It was a home game and the people on the stands were louder than at the last game, but this time you secured yourselves better seats. You were sitting in the front row now!

At the opening, all of the players walked onto the field and turned to the audience. Sukuna waved at the big crowd, his eyes moving from left to right, and finally rested his gaze on you, a small smirk spreading on his face. And then it was kickoff. As always, Sukuna's leading skills ensured a successful first half. It was clear that the team had been a unit for a long time, as well as they complemented each other.

After the first half, there was the usual break and you used it to quickly go use the bathroom. The line was long though, of course you weren't the only one who had to go after such a long time. But luckily, it quickly emptied and after you were done, the break was almost over. While the water was tingling on your hand, you heard a few girls coming in, chattering. You recognized the cheerleaders, one of them was the blonde girl named Manami.

"So, how are things going with Sukuna now?" asked Manami's friend.

At the mention of that name, you became very wary. You felt like you were eavesdropping, but you couldn't turn off your hearing sense after all.

"I think he likes me." Manami said the words dreamily, but you couldn't listen to their conversation any longer, because if you stayed at the sink for too long, you would attract their attention. You dried your hands and then went out the door.

What was their true relationship to each other? She thinks he likes her? What is he doing for her to think that? You had a weird gut feeling on your way back and when your friends noticed, they asked if you were okay. You lied to them and, thank goodness, that feeling disappeared as soon as the second half of the game started again.

And as Shoko predicted, your team won. The others weren't bad by any means, but Sukuna isn't feared in the world of football for nothing. He once again secured a great victory and after the game ended, his teammates all ran towards him to celebrate.

They picked him up and carried him to the front of the stands while you and the others clapped for their success. Many shouted his name, others shouted for the other players, but his grinning, smug look was only on you.

His comrades let him down and the crowd slowly started to leave the stands as Sukuna continued to keep you under his spell. He stepped on a bench in front of it, leaned his elbow on the railing of the stands and pulled out a small piece of paper from his pocket. He pressed it between his fingers proudly and held it in front of his slightly tilted face, a mischievous smile on it, so that you could make out the numbers on the note.

You narrowed your eyes in an attempt to see more clearly and as the digits became visible, you recognized them as your phone number.

How did he-

You were about to ask him that, but Aoi intervened, jumping onto the bench and putting his arm over Sukuna's shoulder, happily dragging him into the locker room.

When you finally came down the stairs, you decided to wait for Sukuna outside. Your friends were talking about something you didn't pay attention to.

Then the door opened and you walked towards Sukuna expectantly, but he was stopped by Manami at that moment. You saw her putting her arm around his and how she walked to the parking lot with him. That made you abandon the whole plan and you went back home with your girls.

When you got there, you got a message from an unknown number.

unknown number: not even curious how I got your number?

That was definitely Sukuna. Your mood immediately worsened. You just couldn't figure him out. You threw your phone on the bed and made yourself something to eat. Cooking should calm you down, so you put on some music and started chopping. It took half an hour before you got the motivation to text him back.

you: aren't you out with the cheerleader right now?

You sent the message and threw your phone away from you again. Why had you been so direct? You were about to take your phone to delete the message, but Sukuna had already replied.

unknown number: oh you're curious about something else I see. u stalking me? ;)

you: no, I just saw you two together after the game. hope you had fun.

unknown number: yea sure had.

you: good for you.

Somehow the message came across as more bitter than you anticipated, and Sukuna also noticed the harsh tone.

unknown number: wait, you weren't seriously thinking I was after you, were you?

you: of course not? I was being genuine.

You were not. He typed.

unknown number: well then, that's good.

And then you left him on read. Asshole.

The whole weekend was spent trying to figure Sukuna out, but as much as you tried, his motives remained unclear to you. You even started listing different possibilities together with Shoko and Utahime, but for every idea there was something in Sukuna's behaviour that didn't add up. You set up three theories:

REASON NUMBER ONE: He really just likes you platonically. But then why did he flirt with you sometimes, why did he almost kiss you, why did he put in such an effort into getting your number?

REASON NUMBER TWO: He was just trying to get into your pants. Maybe there was something going on with this girl, Manami, and he didn't want her to find out. But then why did he never make a move on you like that? Apart from the teasing, he's never been disrespectful or dirty towards you.

And, this was the most unlikely one, but,

REASON NUMBER THREE: He had a serious interest in you. But then, why wouldn't he just be straight forward? Why was this girl all over him at all times? And why didn't he do something against it? Or was he keeping the both of you as mere options?

Whatever it was, it was getting on your nerves. And you decided you wanted to make clear to him that the both of you should either be friends or nothing.

You were just taking a few things out of your locker when there was a sudden bang next to you. You took the last book out of it and then looked at the source.

"Boo." Sukuna called out, pressing his lower arm against the locker. He was wearing a simple white sweater with the sleeves rolled up, but it was so tight that it highlighted his broad, big chest. His hand was clenched into a fist, which meant that you had a perfect view of his flexing muscles as well.

You gulped and tried not to let on how attractive that was to you, because you couldn't afford to seem weak in front of him.

"Wow I'm so scared." you commented and closed your locker.

"I bet you are, now that I've got your number." he claimed. Then you faced him.

"Where did you get it from anyway?" you wondered. You still didn't have a single clue.

He smiled wickedly again.

"Why don't you ask your friend Utahime?"

Safe to say that's not what you expected coming out of his mouth.

"You're lying." you doubted.

"Why would I do that?" he replied with a foxy grin.

You took a deep breath.

"Alright, I'm gonna ask her later. But can we stop with the constant banter, it's giving me a headache."

"Oh, why's that?" he came closer, but you pushed him away again.

"It was fun in the beginning, but it's getting annoying now. Let's just be normal friends." you proposed.

"Friends?" Sukuna raised an eyebrow gently, considering your words and quirking a small smile. "You wanna befriend me?" he seemed oddly delighted about that. You didn't know if he was poking fun at you or not.

"Yeah, isn't that what you wanted?" you inquired, dumbfounded by his reaction.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course. Alright, let's be friends then." he stared down at you, a gleam in his eyes that you couldn't make out.

Yes, it would definitely be better to be friends. That way, he wouldn't constantly irritate you with his mixed signals.

And with that, your friendship with the star player began.

RAHHH he's so confusing!!! Wdym you send me LETTERS to contact me?!?!?! And then say you're not after me? ARGHHH

What do you think his intentions are? As always, reblogs and comments are so so appreciated! I wanna hear your thoughts about it so bad! <3

taglist: @miakxn @aureliaborea @nonamevenus @silkija @sad-darksoul @joh-ahae @mysteriaqueen @rebirthbunbun @inflatabledinosaurs19

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