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skeltnwrites · 2 months ago

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The Shape of Family ‧₊˚❀༉

As a single dad, Steve’s world revolves around school drop-offs, bedtime rituals, and tee-ball practices—and he's struggling to keep up. But you're always there, happily lending a hand when he needs it most. / masterlist

part one - you find out your work crush is a dad and offer to watch his mischievous little girl so he can get some work done 5.2k

a/n - penelope is a little shit and i love her dearly, general warnings/tags here

── .✦

“Hey, sorry to bother you, Steve. I just had a quick question– but before I forget, there’s this little girl in the lobby knocking stuff over. Do you know if her parents are here?”

“Fuck– sorry. One sec.”

He brushes past you with an urgency that is typical of Steve. As the community outreach coordinator, he’s naturally a busy man. You haven’t known him long– just the couple of months since you became a volunteer for the local rec center– but it’s clear he’s dedicated to his work. Always zipping from one end of the building to the other, juggling class setups, organizing meetings, or hunting down the next thing that needs fixing. He tends to add more to his plate than he can carry, at least according to another staff member, which is why you’ve been assigned to help him.

You strain to match his long strides and nearly take out a trash can when he turns a corner unexpectedly. But you can’t lose him now– someone is always nearby to steal him for paperwork or performance reviews and all you have is a quick question.

The lobby unfortunately looks like a tornado blew through the front doors. Cabinets are thrown open, papers are scattered like leaves across the floor, and a chair has been toppled over. And said tornado has her cheek pressed to the vending machine glass, an arm twisted inside the dispenser box to reach for a loose pack of Skittles. The scene is almost amusing until you remember you’ll likely be the one to clean it up.

“Penelope!” Steve scolds, not loud but stern enough to surprise you. He’s consistently an embodiment of gentleness– always accommodating and rarely assertive. And while he’s still gentle with her, his tone carries a weight and firmness that’s a stark departure from his usual demeanor.

The girl, Penelope, retracts her arm and spins around to face Steve. And if it wasn’t for the shit-eating grin pinned to her face, you might’ve felt bad for getting her in trouble.

Steve’s hands snap to his hips. “I asked you to wait in my office.”

She shrugs, “Need a snack.”

Steve huffs and rakes a hand through his hair– a habit when he’s stressed, which is most of the time it seems. By the end of the day, his hairspray will have been combed out and Steve will argue with the strands that curl over his forehead.

“You can have one after you clean this up and if you stay in my office.”

“Candy?”

“No, no candy. There’s snacks in your lunchbox.” He bends to scoop up a few pamphlets to hand to her. “Or I have pretzels. Do you want that?”

She pinches a page between her nails, weighing her options.

Steve pries tiny fingers off, “Don’t rip those. Put ‘em away please.”

And she listens for maybe the first time ever, it seems, cramming a stack of them back on the shelf.

You gather your own stack of handouts and press them into Steve’s sleeve. He recoils a step, his eyes widening before rapidly shutting in a moment of realization. “Sorry! You had a question- I’m sorry.”

Penelope abandons her organizing to plant herself at Steve’s left like a sidekick– anything to get out of cleaning up. She gazes at you with a familiar pair of almond eyes and then it clicks. Her hair is the same shade of brown and her jaw, though softer, is square shaped like Steve’s. The resemblance is indisputable.

You redirect your stare to answer Steve. “Um, yeah– I just needed to borrow the storage closet key to grab some more chairs.”

“Oh, of course.” He pats the front pocket of his jeans. “Keys are in my office– I hope.”

Steve marches past you once again, a new mission in mind, tugging Penelope by the wrist and toeing a cabinet shut on the way out. Penelope’s poor little legs must be tired if he always walks this fast.

“I don’t want pretzels,” she eventually decides.

“Then you can have what’s in your lunchbox.” He glances over his shoulder to confirm you’re in tow, “This is my daughter, Penelope, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Penelope.” You wave, not that she sees.

A braid sits high on her head, swinging like a horse's tail with each hurried step. Her faded denim overalls ride up slightly, exposing just enough ankle to show off the bubblegum pink Converse on her feet. She’s a cute little thing, button-eyed and puffy-cheeked like a cabbage patch kid.

Steve nudges her with his hip, “Say hi.”

She throws you an impartial glance. “Hi.”

When Steve’s office is in sight, Penelope wriggles away from his hold to sprint down the hall. On her tip-toes, she flicks on the light, letting the door slam in Steve’s face. You catch him rolling his eyes as he stops the door with his foot for you. Penelope is clambering onto his chair like it’s a race and pushing off the desk to spin as soon as she’s seated. Steve steers her out of the way to search the drawers, passing you a set of keys when he finds them.

“Just bring ‘em back, please. Dottie found them in lost and found last week.”

“Thanks, I will,” you promise, eyes falling over Penelope again.

It’s your cue to leave, but your feet remain anchored to the floor. Your mind is buzzing with questions that neither of you have the time to discuss. The rational part of you knows you should exit before you let your curiosity win. Yet, you find yourself lingering in the doorway, stalling just long enough for Steve to lift an eyebrow in silent inquiry.

And before you can rule whether or not it's a good idea, you blurt out, “I can keep an eye on her if you want?”

Penelope peaks over the back of the chair, perched on her knees so she can see.

Steve shakes his head, “No, it’s okay. You’ve got stuff to do. And Penelope is going to be a better listener for the rest of the day, right?” He ruffles her hair, earning him a glare.

You bite back a smile. It’s a funny thing, seeing that frown and furrowed brows that resemble Steve’s so clearly because you can’t imagine him making that face at anyone ever. It’s cute, even if it’s meant to be mean, but you would never tell her as much.

“I really don’t mind. She could help me tape the flyers up– If she wants something to do?” You direct the last part at Penelope. To a kid, being trapped in their dad’s dusty old office is probably boredom purgatory.

Penelope blinks at you and then Steve for permission.

“You want to?” He asks.

She nods, then adds, “Snack too?”

“Yes, honey.” He sighs, faint but deflated, burdened by the guilt of not feeding her sooner. Steve fishes her backpack out from under his desk. A vivid shade of pink with a Barbie patch sewn to the front. Her tin lunchbox is similarly themed and only harbors a bag of fruit snacks.

“Fruit snacks or pretzels?”

Penelope’s features pinch in a way that says neither but she snatches the fruit snacks anyway. Decidedly dismissed or over the conversation, she hops off the chair and sees herself out.

You can’t help the smile that finds your lips as you turn back to Steve.

He chuckles, “It’s been a day. Bring her back if she doesn’t listen. Good luck.”

Penelope leans against the wall outside, popping a gummy in her mouth lazily.

“We’re gonna make a pitstop at the supply closet and then you can help me with the flyers.”

She doesn’t say anything, but she follows as you start walking, and that’s all you need from her. She’s strangely silent for a kid, especially Steve’s kid. Conversation seems to come easy to him, he likes to talk, which is one of the reasons you still can’t believe you didn’t know he had a child. On your first day as a volunteer, he’d crammed that he was on the swim team in high school, that he's from Indiana, and that he prefers the warmer months all in one conversation– the guy is an open book.

And you’re quiet too because you’re focused on recalling where they put that damned supply closet. The rec center halls all sort of look the same still, bleeding into one jumbled image of wood paneling and old carpet in your mind. The building is practically a maze; constructed in the fifties, it still carries its historic charm—stubborn doors, leaky faucets, and all—issues the city claims they 'can’t afford' to fix.

Penelope must get tired of going in circles because eventually she tugs on your sleeve and points down the opposite hall you were planning on going. When she leads you right up to the door you beam at her. For a second, she forgets to be brooding and smiles back.

“You’re a smart little cookie, Penelope. How’d you know it was here?” You ask, unlocking the door.

She shrugs nonchalantly, “I just know things.”

You laugh loud enough to draw eyes from a nearby meeting and determine Penelope is the funniest kid you’ve ever met.

She holds the door open at your request, munching on her fruit snacks as you maneuver a stack of chairs into the hall. You make it back to the classroom without her directions, not to toot your own horn. She tosses her empty wrapper in the trash as you unstack the chairs.

“Here,” you pass her a roll of tape. “Rip some pieces off for me?”

She nods, ambling over to the wall with you.

“So, Penelope, how old are you?” You ask, pressing a flyer against the wallpaper.

She debates, flipping fingers up and down on her free hand before concluding, “Four.”

“Ohh, very cool. You’re almost ready to go to school with the big kids, huh?”

“Yes, at the big school. I’m in pre-school.”

“Mhmm. Do you like preschool?”

She hums no and strains to tear off a piece.

“Here, like this,” you demonstrate, pulling in the proper direction. She copies you, ripping a neat line. The corners of her lips raise as she views her handiwork.

“You don’t like school?” You ask, peering down.

She hands you the slice of tape. “Only sometimes.”

“Why only sometimes?”

She shrugs and heaves a hefty sigh for such little lungs. She’s too small to be sighing like that, you think, and she definitely acquired it from Steve.

“I only like work sometimes too,” you admit.

Her eyes chase yours– all innocently wide and filled with disbelief. She rips off another square of tape, “Are your friends not nice?”

You consider her question, answering truthfully, “Well, maybe sometimes, I guess.”

“Meg was not a kind friend today.” Her tone is hilariously chastizing for a child. Kids are just like mini adults sometimes– collecting random phrases and mannerisms like trading cards.

“No? Why’s that?”

“She wouldn’t share. Daddy always says sharing is caring.”

“That’s true. Did you tell your teacher?”

Penelope shakes her head, tilting on her heels.

“Why not?”

“Meg told the teacher on me because I wasn’t being a kind friend either.”

“Oh. Why weren’t you being a kind friend?”

“Because I wanted to play with the dolls too,” she mumbles, upset wavering in her voice. To a child, these seemingly trivial matters really do feel like the end of the world, so you can’t help but empathize, even as you wish your worries were confined to sharing toys.

You crouch in front of Penelope, “We still should be kind, hmm? Even when our friends don’t want to share?”

Penelope’s unconvinced, picking at her nail like the dirt underneath is a more important issue. But you’re at the end of your stack of cardstock and it maybe isn’t your place to have this conversation anyway.

You get her set up at a table with printer paper and a box of crayons from the closet. She dumps them out immediately, spraying rainbow across her paper so she can find the “bestest” colors.

“I can share,” she declares, sliding her extra sheet over to your end of the table.

“That’s very sweet of you. Thank you.” You catch a crayon before it rolls onto the floor. “What should I draw?”

“I’m coloring my family.”

“That’s nice. I think I’ll draw a dinosaur.”

“A dinosaur?” She cocks her head and giggles, bubbly and pure in the way that kids laugh. Your heart aches with happiness. “That’s silly!”

“What? Why’s that silly?”

She cackles like this is the funniest idea anyone’s ever had. “They just are!”

“Hmm. Should I draw a serious dinosaur then?”

“All dinosaurs are silly– Trevor says so.”

“What! Why does he think that?”

Her words fuse into one smear of a sound as she shrugs, “I dunno.”

“Well, my dinosaur is very serious. See?”

She presses into your arm to examine your quick sketch. “That’s not a dinosaur!”

“It is! You can’t tell?”

She nibbles on her lip, smile growing as she shakes her head.

You pull the paper closer, as if a better angle might somehow improve it. “Hmm, I guess it does look a bit like an alien, doesn’t it?”

Penelope giggles and nods enthusiastically before returning to her work. Her crayon moves methodically across the paper, lips pressed together in concentration. After a long spell of silence, she kindly requests, “Can you draw a house?”

“Of course,” you reply, “On my paper or yours?”

“Mine,” she says, her pointer finger tapping the corner of her sheet with emphasis.

The drawing is a riot of color, blending bold strokes of crayon to create two people and an animal. The taller, presumably Steve, is painted with orange and yellow hues– true to the the warmth he represents. Penelope, doused in cooler tones, carries their floppy-eared pet– a bunny or a dog, maybe?

“Wow, Penelope! This is amazing!” You genuinely mean it; despite her young age, her talent shines through in little details like eyelashes and a set of heart-shaped earrings. “Is this you and Daddy?”

“Yes, and Cinderella!” she adds proudly.

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” you say, admiring her work. “Is Cinderella your pet?”

She bobs her head animatedly.

“Wow, she looks like a very pretty… animal in your drawing.”

“She is a very pretty cat,” Penelope affirms and you are relieved not to have guessed incorrectly. She stares at you for a long moment. “Is Cinderella family?”

“Well, does she live with you?”

Penelope scrunches her nose and tips her head, “Sort of?”

“She sort of lives with you?”

“Yeah. She lives outside mostly but sometimes I let her inside.” Her pitch fluctuates as she talks, the words lilting in a strange, almost sing-song cadence that kids do.

“Ohh,” you smile. “Do you feed Cinderella?”

“Yes, Daddy buys her food in a can and it’s really stinky!”

Penelope joins you when you laugh. Not because you are but because stinky things are just funny at her age.

“Do you love Cinderella?” You ask.

“Yes– except when she bites me.” She sobers quickly, forehead wrinkling.

“Oh,” you chuckle, “Well, I think she’s family then.”

“I think so too,” she states seriously, swapping a blue crayon for a green.

“What color should the house be?” You claw through the rainbow spread.

“White!”

“Well, the paper’s already white but how ‘bout I outline the house in black so you know where it is?”

“I guess so. There’s two windows and the door is red– Oh, and there are lots of flowers outside.”

You nod, sketching her vision into existence. “Is this your house?”

“Yes, and Daddy’s. And sometimes Cinderella’s.”

“Just you three? Is that your whole family?” Admittedly, it’s a self-indulgent question. You’re curious about Penelope’s mom. And you noticed Steve doesn’t wear a ring, checked multiple times in the last few weeks even. But that doesn’t refute the possibility he might be seeing someone.

“Yes, Daddy and Cinderella is my family. Daddy says families come in all shapes and sizes.”

You’re glowing with a fondness that’s impossible to hide– because everything about her is adorable– her chubby cheeks, her tinkling little laugh, even her attitude, though Steve would probably disagree with the latter. She’s different than Steve in a lot of ways: grumpier and more aloof, but, at her age, it’s cute. And still, she feels like his carbon copy. An echo of everything you’ve come to like about him.

Him being a dad makes perfect sense in retrospect. To have overlooked such an important part of his life seems silly. A tenderness radiates from Steve, the kind only a parent could possess. He’s full of love– too much not to share. He pours lots into his work: late nights at the center, taking on more than he can chew, always with a smile. And the rest? It must go to Penelope.

“Your dad is very right about that.”

She smirks confidently, holding up her artwork, “I’m going to give this to him.”

“I bet he’ll love it so much, Penelope!”

And his dad senses must be tingling at the mention of his name because his face appears in the door’s slim window not even a minute later. His lips curve into a grin as he realizes he’s been caught spying.

The door clicks and Penelope turns. “Hi, Daddy.”

“Hi, baby,” Steve strolls over to the opposite side of the table, “Are you being a good listener?” His attention flicks around the room, searching for any signs of misbehavior.

Penelope shimmies up tall in her seat and nods until he meets her pleased gaze.

Steve must believe the girl because he doesn’t press further, but you praise her anyway, “Very good. Penelope’s been an amazing helper this afternoon.”

“Is that right?” He orbits the table to stand behind her. “What are you drawing, Nell?”

She flips over her paper, clapping the front against the table. “It’s a surprise!”

“Oh, sorry!” He paces back, redirecting his attention to you. “I didn’t see it.”

Penelope twists around to confirm his eyes are elsewhere before proceeding to squeeze in a final set of details– grass blades and sun rays. “Here,” she thrusts the page into his hands. “For you.”

“For me?” His face lights up like a Christmas tree before he’s even seen it. She could hand him a pebble, and he’d treasure it like a gem. And when his eyes do fan across the drawing, he melts.

“This is so lovely!” He coos. “Where did you get all this talent from? This belongs in a museum, Nell!” He keeps his heart from bursting with a steady palm to his chest. And with his free hand, he flashes it at you just long enough to catch a glimpse before he reels it in to study some more. “And you got Cinderella’s stripes too. Wow.”

He squats behind Penelope’s chair, throwing an arm around her middle, “Thank you for this. And thank you for being a good listener. That makes my heart very happy.”

She slumps into his chest, peering up at the reflection of her own features. “Is it time to go?”

His eyes leap to the clock hung on the opposite wall. “Couple more hours, babe.”

Penelope huffs.

“I’m gonna hang this in my office. I love it so so much!” He sows a couple of kisses on her temple, straining to stand with achy knees. “You wanna come hang out with me or stay here?”

She looks at you like you might object. “Here.”

If Steve’s offended, he doesn’t show it. He’s still grinning like the Cheshire cat, high on the parenting win that is receiving willing affection from your child. “That okay?” He asks you.

“Of course. I’ll put her to work,” you reassure.

“Good, keep her busy. It keeps her out of trouble.” He raises the drawing for another look. “I’ll be in my office, doing paperwork, yay.”

You snicker, as he retraces the path he came. “Have fun with that boss!”

Just before the door slams shut, he yells back, equally playful, “I told you to stop calling me that!”

Penelope doodles some more, gifting you a vibrant rendition of the night sky– a collection of stars and circles and swirls. You’re so grateful you tell her it’ll go on your fridge, and it does as soon as you’re home. She sorts through toys and equipment in the gym closet and even holds your dustpan when you sweep. Her role as your helper is taken very seriously.

The two hours pass faster than you expect. Time flies when you're having fun, as Steve would say. All his little phrases and cheesy jokes suddenly make sense in the context of him being a dad.

She takes your hand on the way to Steve’s office, escorting you when you pretend not to know which direction it’s in. It’s as comforting as it is validating; winning the kindness and attention of four-year-olds, especially this one, is difficult. You knock on the wood frame even though the door’s propped open.

Steve peaks up through a rare pair of reading glasses. Round, wireframes that match the golden shade his hair assumes when it catches the light. They highlight his eyes—warm and gentle as a summer breeze. But he swipes them off his nose, folding them with practiced care.

A smile mends his frown as Penelope climbs into his lap. “Hi, sweetheart.”

She wiggles into a comfortable position, nudging his chest until he reclines further to make space. “Hi.”

“Are you having fun?” Steve cradles her shin to keep her from slipping. “What have you been up to?”

“Cleaning.” Her tone is casual, dismissive even, like it’s nothing to fuss over; but her eyes are fixed on him, waiting for a reaction.

Steve gasps, “No way! You were cleaning? I don’t know if I believe it.”

“I was!” Penelope whines, tickled with glee.

“Hmm, is this true?” He arches an eyebrow at you.

You nod, delighted to play along. “It is. Penelope here is excellent at handling a dustpan. She even organized the dodgeballs by color.”

“Really? Because you never-ever want to clean at home.”

“I do!” She squeals, bending backward over the arm of his chair.

“Yeah right.” He blows a raspberry on her belly where her shirt has pinched up.

She shrieks, squirming and kicking her heels into his thigh. Steve’s dad reflexes must clock in because he blocks her knee just before it drives into his cheek. And he takes it as a sign to ease up before someone gets hurt– craning back up and scooping Penelope into a baby cradle against his chest. Her legs are long and lanky, dangling over his arms like uncooked spaghetti.

“Do we need to invite them over every time you make a mess in your room? Will that solve the problem?” He teases, squishing her arms against his shirt so she can’t escape and peppering kisses from temple to temple.

Eventually, Penelope comes to terms that no amount of writhing will succeed against his strength. She slackens in his embrace, surrendering to the terrible thing that is unconditional love.

“Oh, here are your keys!” They rattle against the desk where you drop them.

Steve nods into Penelope's crown, poking her side. “Can you say ‘thank you for hanging out with me?’”

Anticipating another round of tickles, she grins before parroting, “Thank you for hanging out with me.”

“Thank you for helping me clean!”

Her eyes sweep back over to Steve, “Can we go home yet?”

His fingers tap rhythmically on the desk, a small sigh escaping as he glances at the paperwork drowning his workspace. “We’ll leave as soon as I’m finished.” He pecks the top of her head. “Promise.”

She rolls her eyes, moaning, “Daddy, come on it’s taking, like, a million years!”

“A million? Surely not.”

“It is!” She elongates the sound until it’s less word and more noise.

His shoulders droop, tension slipping from his frame as he agrees, “Okay. I’m ready to go too.”

You don’t blame him for giving in so easily, Penelope’s puppy eyes are powerful. Her chunky little hands smoosh his cheeks– molding and kneading like it’s play-doh, “Is that why your face looks so sleepy?”

A hearty laugh bursts from his throat, “Yes, that’s why my face looks so sleepy.” He pats her arms, “Come on. Up.”

Penelope scoots off his knees, gripping his wrist for balance. Steve ducks under the desk for his backpack and shoves the stack of paperwork inside.

“Hey, I meant to ask you, is the new schedule working okay for you?” He asks you, always so thoughtful.

You nod earnestly. “Yeah, actually, I like doing Fridays better I think.”

“Yeah, Fridays are fun. Fitness Friday has been a big hit with the high school's soccer team.” He slings his bag over his shoulder and lifts Penelope’s by the strap.

“Oh, good! Did the new jump ropes come in?” Conversations like this, as mundane as they are, are fleeting– the next interruption always around the corner– so you savor it while you have him.

“Mmmm, not yet. I think they’re coming next week– shipping delays or something.”

You turn to leave but stop in your tracks, attention stolen by Penelope’s drawing. As promised, it’s hung up– a few pieces of scotch tape secure it to the wall across from his desk.

“I’m gonna get a frame for it,” Steve passes you with a toothy smile, flicking off the light.

Penelope chimes in before you can respond, “Can I play jump rope?”

“I don't know if you know how, babe. I can teach you.”

“I can! I did at school!”

“You did? I didn’t know that.” Steve waves to a passing coworker. “Maybe we’ll buy one for home too then.”

Penelope nods, hopping the last stretch to the front door.

“Any fun plans this weekend?” Steve asks you outside, bumping the back of Penelope’s hand until she takes his. The parking lot is almost empty at this time of day, but a few stragglers remain inside after hours.

“If you think laundry is fun, then sure.”

“Oh, I know all about that, trust me.” He nods at Penelope, “This one goes through more clothes in a week than I do in a month.”

Steve approaches a BMW, only a few spots over from your car. An older model, but well taken care of. It’s a nice shade of burgundy with a stick-figure family on the back windshield. It feels so him.

You hum a happy sound. “What about you? Any plans?”

“Besides laundry? Well, we’re actually going kayaking at Red Fleet tomorrow,” he unlocks the passenger door, tucking the backpacks in the footwell.

“Oh, fun! Are you excited?” You ask Penelope.

“I’m gonna look for frogs.”

She wrenches the handle a few times before her door flies open. Steve intercepts mid-swing to prevent her from denting the neighboring truck at the expense of his fingers.

“Ow– shit,” he grimaces, shaking his wrist. He visibly swallows any other swears when he sees Penelope gawking, “Nell, I’ve told you to be gentle with the door.”

“You said we can’t say that word,” she points out, climbing into her car seat.

You scrub your mouth, not so inconspicuously erasing your smile.

“I– yes,” he nods, “You’re right. We shouldn’t say that word. I just–”

“Even when we’re frustrated; that’s what you said!”

Steve takes a deep breath through his nose, choking down his several feelings. She’s right, he did say that, to hopefully stop her from swearing at preschool, but the profanity policing is comical coming from a four-year-old. And he can’t be laughing right now– he has parenting to do– but he’s on the verge of breaking when he catches sight of your face.

Steve collects himself as he buckles her in. “Yes, Penelope. I shouldn’t have said it. I’m sorry.”

She pats his head, “It’s okay. We all do mistakes.”

Steve softens. The irritation evaporates instantly, replaced by a surge of satisfaction. This is one of those rare moments where he can so clearly recognize the lessons he’s instilled taking shape.

He lets himself chuckle then, “We do. We all make mistakes and that’s okay.”

She nods as he tightens her straps, “Like when I spilled my juice this morning.”

“Exactly.” He triple-checks that all her limbs are safely out of the door’s reach before shutting it.

He faces you, scratching his cheek– rosy and round with joy. “How much you wanna bet she swears at me tomorrow?”

“Hey, I don’t doubt it!” Your elation mirrors his.

“If she can’t find any frogs at the park I can almost guarantee it.”

“Better help her look then.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’d invite you but it’s reservation-based. And I’d be surprised if there’s any spots open still… But we can sneak you in if you really want to go.” It’s meant to be a joke, but something in the way he holds your gaze suggests a level of seriousness.

“No, that’s okay,” you grin. “The pile of laundry on my bed awaits.”

“Well, maybe next time.”

You try not to read into it. Steve’s a friendly guy, he probably invites his coworkers out to things all the time.

You nod, idling at the hood of his beamer.

“I really appreciate you watching her today. You’re a lifesaver, truly,” he shakes his head, peeking at Penelope through the window. “She’s been a handful lately– I mean, I had to pick her up early today because she bit another kid, can you believe that?”

“She’s a kid,” you shrug, “All kids do that at some point.”

“I don’t know,” he pinches the bridge of his nose, “I’m honestly at my witts end. This is her third warning and if she gets kicked out of school— I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“From what I saw today, she’s a really good kid, Steve. I can’t imagine they’d do that.”

“I’ve just been so busy, you know, sometimes I wonder if she acts out because of that– and it’s just me so I can’t–” he pauses, wiping his face, “God– I’m sorry, you’re… I’m just dumping all of this on you when you’re trying to leave.”

“No! It’s okay, I don’t mind, really.”

“It’s– Well, it’s a lot and I,” he’s cut short by Penelope knocking on the glass, impatience strewn across her features.

He throws up his pointer finger to tell her one second. “We can talk next week. You’ll be here Friday?”

“Yep. I will see you then,” you nod, backing up a step so he can cross over to the driver’s side.

“Okay, thanks again,” he says, opening his door.

You wave goodbye, “Of course. Have fun kayaking!”

“You too!” He yells, then mumbles, “Shit.”

“Dad!” Penelope’s voice scolds.

A warmth simmers in your chest as you walk away– a fizzy feeling that had been bottled up and crammed into a forgotten corner of your body. But as soon as you’re settling into the privacy of your car, it boils over into this rush of giddy exhilaration, electrifying every inch of your skin. Giggles cut through the silence as your smile stretches wider, completely untamable. There’s no stopping this, not when you’re already fantasizing about a next time with Steve.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington #stranger things fic #stranger things #dad steve harrington #coworker steve harrington

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o0sleepingdead0o · 7 months ago

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Prepared for Anything Pt. 3

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4, MasterPost

What was with Danny’s luck and fires? He wondered as he searched a warehouse he’d come across for survivors. He’d been flying home(invisibly of course) when a nearby building had exploded. Flames licked at the grease spattered floor and ate at old crates, but the biggest issue was the smoke. It billowed thickly like the smog that filled Gotham’s skies, and impeded even Danny’s enhanced vision. He could taste the ash in the air. He knew there were people here. He heard someone coughing and the sound of fighting going on ahead.

He forged onward, dashing towards the sounds, and the layers of smoke lessened enough for Danny to see what was taking place.

The first thing he noticed was the scuffle. About a dozen of what were clearly henchmen fired guns and grappled with. . .

Danny sighed.

More vigilantes.

One wore purple and had long, blonde hair. The other wore black with gold accents, and a mask covered her face. Both sides of the fight wore rebreathers.

The second thing Danny noticed was the red vigilante with bandoliers across his chest, bound with chains, and hanging by the ceiling. He hung over a vat of boiling oil that was alit with flames.

. . .

What was this? Some scene from a childrens’ cartoon?

Danny hurried forward, egged on by the lung Red was hacking up, one who very much was not wearing a rebreather.

Danny pointed a finger at the chain suspending the poor vigilante, and shot a small ecto-blast from the tip. The chain broke.

The vigilante screamed as he fell towards the boiling vat and Danny leapt to intercept him mid-air.

“Huu—“ The vigilante huffed at the impact, Danny’s shoes squealing as he landed and skidded to a halt.

The red guy wheezed. “Thanks.”

“Sure. Couldn’t just leave you hanging around, now could I?” Danny grinned.

Tim groaned.

Danny didn’t think the vigilante had room to complain.

Immediately, they were beset by attackers.

“Oop.” Danny dodged a bullet, shifting only the needed inch to avoid it. “Hey! Watch it! I’ve got cargo!”

“Carg—?!” The vigilante tried, only to hack again. He sounded offended. Danny didn’t really care.

A few goons were closing in on them from all sides, and Danny found it highly annoying that they were interfering with his mission to get this damsel in distress outside to fresh air. It wouldn’t take too long to knock ‘em out, but still.

One of the lackeys raised his weapon and Danny prepared to—

Flying in from the left came a foot, clocking the man in the jaw. Danny watched a small and lithe black figure move like she was the manifestation of violent, deadly grace itself. Danny was in awe as she took the man out, gliding and dancing as if it was all she breathed and all she lived. Her movements were efficient and so quick, Danny could barely catch the motions taking out the next three men after. She tore through them like they were nothing. They fell at her feet as if they were insignificant gnats, as if one look was enough from the goddess of death over here to kill them.

She turned to Danny when she’d cleared his immediate attackers, and he stared at her, mouth slightly agape. His heart fluttered.

“That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. . .” Danny muttered mostly to himself. He could watch her do that over and over and over again and never get tired of it. It was captivating.

The black vigilante went still for a moment, her eyes seeming to lock with his through her mask, before motioning for him to flee.

“Right.” Danny dashed past her, lugging the red one in a bridal carry. A fireman’s carry would probably be hard on his lungs.

“Wh—at w—s tha—t?!” The red one coughed up. Danny couldn’t tell if he was laughing at him or judging him. Or both.

“Shush.”

Danny blew through the nearest doors of the warehouse to meet fresh air and sucked in a deep breath. The smoke didn’t bother him, but this was still nice. He distanced himself from the warehouse quickly, worried about wasting time and risking this dude’s life. Or health. Danny had no idea how bad the smoke inhalation was. Pretty bad, he was guessing.

Danny laid him down in some alley. Mechanical whirring announced who had arrived. Danny looked up as the purple and black vigilantes dropped down from the roofs.

Danny’s eyes briefly glanced over Purple to rest on Black.

“Oh, hey. That was quick.”

The purple one shrugged. “We were almost done any—where did that come from?”

Danny uncoiled the tube to the oxygen tank and mask, fixing it over the baffled face of Red.

“Huh?” Danny fiddled with the knob on the tank and Red took deep breaths.

“You just have an oxygen tank on you at all times?” The purple one laughed.

“You don’t?” Danny countered. He tried not to smirk as Purple choked on her laugh.

“I was joking!”

Danny shrugged.

“Good job.” Black complimented and Danny’s heart palpitated. Her voice was so soft and gentle and the most melodious thing he’s ever heard.

“Yeah, thanks, I mean, no problem, just passing by, I'm in burning buildings all the time, wasn't any trouble." Danny rambled as he went back to fumbling with the knobs.

"Wait, what?" Red croaked.

Purple took in a long breath, as if hit with some amazing bit of realization.

Danny abruptly stood where he’d been sitting on the ground next to Red.

“Here. These are for you.” Danny thrust his hand out to Black, holding a bouquet of exotic, beautiful flowers, native to the Infinite Realms, and at least six times the size of his head.

Purple nearly seized back. “What the—?! Where are these things coming from?!”

Danny had received a multitude of bouquets for his coronation and he was suddenly very glad that he’d frozen them in time to decorate his keep with. Jazz had insisted it would brighten up the place.

“Ah, well, you never know when you might need a professionally done, extravagant bouquet of exotic wildflowers to present to your rescuer. You were my knight in shining. . .whatever kinda armour that is. . .”

Purple’s jaw went slack. Black seemed to pause before shrugging lightly and looking away, curling a little into herself as if embarrassed. Her body language said she was still happy, though. She carefully took the bouquet from him.

Danny was gonna die again. The butterflies were going to mutate and burst out of his stomach.

“Oh my gosh! Stop flirting over my dying body!” Red interrupted.

Danny spluttered. “I am not—“

“You totally are!!” Purple cackled as if this was the most entertainment she’s had in weeks.

Danny ignored her. “Anyway, can I have your name?” He asked Black.

“Wait. . .”Purple tried to get herself under control. “You don’t know who we are?”

Danny shrugged. “I’m, uh. . .from outta town.”

“Well, that was kinda obvious.” Red said.

“Orphan.” Black gestured to herself.

Danny paused. He blinked. Alright, that was. . .that was some oddly personal information to go straight to, but okay.

“I’m. . .sorry for your loss.”

Purple guffawed and slapped a hand over her mouth. Red hacked up another lung. He was gonna run out soon.

Black shook ever so subtly with her own laughter and Danny nearly melted.

“No. Name.” She gestured to herself. “Orphan.”

“It’s her vigilante name.” Purple was still laughing.

“Ah. . .yes. . .right.” Danny blushed. “My name’s Danny. It’s nice to meet y'all.” His words implied he spoke to all of them, but he looked only at Orphan.

“Yeah, I’m lucky you were there to grab me. I don’t know how that chain broke.” Red said from where he’d sat up from the ground. Danny’s lips pursed. He honestly kept forgetting about him.

Purple took a steadying breath, warding off the laughter still treading her words. “We should probably get him some medical attention.”

“Psh, I’m fine.”

“I thought you said you were dying?” Danny asked.

“That was like, ten seconds ago, I’m fine now.”

“Yeah, about as fine as a chain smoker with a drinking problem. Have you heard yourself? It’s like you swallowed a sword and gave it a good swishing around down there.” Purple retorted.

Red scoffed.

Danny backed out of the alley, flashing Orphan a smile before disappearing.

<><><><>

“What happened to all your food?!”

Danny came home to Jason(AKA Red Hood. {The wacky ectoplasm kinda made it obvious. Danny was working on that}) peering into his fridge judgementally as if it was an a affront to his person. “I loaded it up just a couple days ago!”

Danny reached past his friend to grab the orange juice and poured himself a glass. He went to sit at the counter. “I ate it all. Duh.”

“There was a week’s worth in there!” Jason gestured indignantly at the empty fridge, staring at Danny.

Danny took a long sip of his juice, keeping eye contact with Jason all the while. When his thirst was parched, he set the cup down with a quiet clink. He leaned his elbows on the counter to hold his face.

“Obviously not, because I ate it all.”

Jason pinched his nose and sighed before letting the fridge door drift closed. He poured the kettle he must’ve boiled earlier into a prepared mug.

Danny stared down at his half-emptied glass. “I think I’m in love.” He murmured thoughtfully into it.

The tea bag bobbing in Jason’s mug paused, before continuing. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Danny sighed, mournfully. He wondered if Orphan would care if he was half-dead or from another dimension. Would he meet her again? He really, really hoped so. “I met her in a burning building.”

“. . .What?”

“Yeah, what an amazing coincidence, right?”

“That’s not—“

“She was so cool.”

“. . .kaaay?”

How did Danny get her attention? He couldn’t just show up wherever she was vigilante-ing, could he? He didn’t want her to feel like he was stalking her.

Danny shuddered and made a face. Ugh. Ew.

No. He needed to find another way.

A small smile wound it’s way over his lips as an idea came to him.

“What’s her name?” Jason asked.

“Umm, you’ve probably heard of her. She said her name was Orphan.”

Jason choked on his tea.

#dpxdc fanfic #dp x dc crossover #danny fenton #orphan #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #Red Robin #tim drake wayne #Dimension Travel #dp x dc au #danny phantom #Spoiler

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jenmongiii · 2 months ago

Text

— nct dream when they ask you the big question

MARK LEE

mark would be a nervous wreck when planning to propose to you. he's always been good with words but he'd stutter when he gets too nervous or just tries to laugh it off. he'd have your family and his family in on the surprise with you being completely oblivious. you both are having a family dinner at your place, while mark is nervously playing with the box in his pocket as he watches you with sparkles in his eyes. so when you two were finally alone out on the back porch, you catch the nervousness in his eyes. your small laughter fills his ears as he rubs the back of his neck. but then he meets your eyes again. this moment was now or never. mark professes his love for like he always has when you two were officially together and expresses how he's ready to spend the rest of his life with you. so when he pulls out the box with the ring inside, you stare at him in shock as he ask you the big question: "will you marry me?"

HUANG RENJUN

renjun would plan to propose to you at the aquarium which happened to be the place you both had your first date. he'd rent the aquarium after closing hours where it would only be the two of you with a few workers to help in on the special surprise. the lights would be dimmed down a bit, the light shinning through the water tank like little shimmer rainbows as the fishes and sea creatures swim about. you'd always be fascinated by the color fishes that would stay closer to the bottom of the tank that you hadn't even noticed the rose petals quickly being tossed around on the floor behind you, leading to renjun who stood nervously but patiently in the middle of the room with flowers in his hand and small box with a ring inside. "renjun-ah, i don't see any sea turt-" you pause mid-sentence when you turn your around to find your boyfriend standing there with a smile already on his face when he meets your eyes. you see how shy he gets when he laughs to himself, throwing his head back a bit before walking closer to him. he's unable to keep the eye contact as you laugh a little with him. "baby, what's all this for?" renjun hums a little before handing the flowers in your direction while you gladly take. they were your favorite flowers. and as you take them, renjun slowly gets down on one knee and you're taken aback. he presents the proposal ring to you as you bring a hand to cover your mouth. "y/n, you make me the happiest. i've always felt safe with you like i could share anything without the need to hold back. you've always been my pillar. and now i want to be that kind of support for you... forever. y/n, will you do me the honor of marrying me?"

LEE JENO

you and your boyfriend would literally be texting each other even if you were both in each other's presence. to others, it's weird. but to you both, it was something special. you love that your boyfriend really isn't that type of a high-maintenance guy. you would show love to him and he would reciprocate that same kind of love back. he's never one to show off pda but behind the scenes, he's actually the sweetest and most lovable person. and that's what you love about him, how he can be himself when he's around you. so when you're both texting each other, jeno sends a picture of the proposal ring to you. you look up at him in confusion and he smiles when he meets your eyes before you start texting back. 'what's this?' and he replies. 'it's a ring.' 'well duh, i know it's a ring. but why did you send me a pic of that?' jeno brings his phone closer as both his elbows are propped on the chair's arm rests. 'isn't it obvious? i'm trying to propose to you.' your heart literally jumps out as you look back him but he's avoiding your eyes, still stuck at looking at his phone. "what do you mean?" you blurt out. his eyes finally look away and he has that puppy-dog look as he blinks a couple of times. "i mean, it means exactly what it means." your jaw drop slightly as you place your phone on the table while covering your mouth. "wait.. are you being serious right now?" your looking at your boyfriend for confirmation. he puts his phone on the table before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small box. he opens the box to reveal the same ring from the picture he sent. "yeah, i am. is that a yes, baby?"

LEE DONGHYEOK

you and your boyfriend would be at your house chilling on your bed as you both watch a netflix show together. haechan would always have this tendency to look in your way, stealing glances every so often which would eventually turn into staring. you notice this and eventually take your attention away from the tv. "you know if you keep staring at me like that, people actually think you're in love with me." you chuckle. "but i am in love with you." he looks at you with a grin on his face as he leans on his propped elbow. "really? i did not know that." you gasp before letting out a small laugh and turning your attention back to the tv. that was one of the things he loves hearing from you: your laugh. his eyes never look away but instead keeps focusing on you. when haechan loves, he loves loyally. he could never give his heart away to another person, not when you already have it. "marry me, y/n." the sudden confession snaps you to reality as you slowly turn to look at him. you thought you might have heard wrong as your boyfriend was always known for joking around a lot. "what?" haechan, who was now sitting up fully looks at you, never breaking eye contact. "i said marry me." you blink your eyes a few times before chuckling a few times as you sit up. "are you being serious right now?" "i'm dead serious." and he leans in closer to you, you swear you can feel his breath on your lips as he stares deeply into your eyes. and when you stare back, you can tell he really is serious. you don't notice the ring he takes out before he takes your hand into his, forcing you to look down at it. "i know i tend to make a lot of jokes, but this time im serious when i say i want to marry you. so will you marry me, y/n?"

NA JAEMIN

it was no surprise how much of an artist jaemin was when it came to photography. being in a wonderful relationship with you for six years, jaemin was ready to spend the rest of his life with you and he had the perfect plan on how to propose to you. you were all dressed up for the evening as jaemin had requested but found yourself curious as you both were entering an art exhibition. jaemin leads you inside by the hand as you follow him. immediately upon entering in, jaemin smiles as he puts some headphones over your ears before pressing the play button. you hear jaemin's voice start to speak as you look at him funny but the smile on his face never wavers. one portrait after another, you start to realize it's all the fragments of your relationship that has been built up to this moment: the first photo he took of you when he met you on the bridge, the day where he attended your first theater play, when he asked you officially to be his girlfriend, another photo of the promise rings he got for the both of you. you hadn't realized jaemin had already let go of your hand as you mindlessly wandered to the last portrait to where your boyfriend's audio recording asked you to stand. the last portrait is blank, just a white page making you even more confused until you're asked to turn around. and you do. only to your surprise you see your boyfriend already down on one knee before you with a small box in his hands. he looks at you with the most romantic eyes explaining how he's ready to spend forever with you. "will you marry me, y/n?"

ZHONG CHENLE

you were always chenle's number one supporter when it came to his basketball games. no matter what, you always made it to his games, never missing one. and for that chenle has always been grateful. so when you receive a text from your boyfriend to meet him at the basketball court where he usually practices, you're already on your way. when you arrive at the outdoor basketball court, you find chenle alone shooting some hoops. smiling to yourself, you make your way over to him quickly coming up from behind. "what happened? the boys couldn't find time to play a few matches with you today?" and chenle grins when he meets your eyes. he passes the ball to you and catch it before dribbling it a few times. "no, i just wanted to shoot some hoops with you." you raise an eyebrow at him before focusing back on the ball and swiftly jogging up closer to the hoop before throwing it up above your head, the ball landing in safely. chenle's admiration for you clearly does not leave his face as he watches you turn to him, meeting his eyes. "actually, there's something i've been planning for some time... something i've been wanting to ask you." you look at him slightly confused before he poses another question. "do you see a future with me?" the question leaves you unguarded and candid, but deep inside yourself you already knew the answer to his question. "of course." and a look of relief washes across his face. "good, because i don't know what i would have done if this didn't work." you look at him even more confused. "if what didn't work." what you didn't noticed is that you had your back facing the bleachers, obviously oblivious to signs chenle's friends were excitedly holding. and when everything was ready and in place, chenle places his hands on your shoulder turning you around and a shocked expression plasters on your face. you see the signs 'will you marry me?' spread across the bleachers being held up in the air by his best friends. your boyfriend slowly walks in front of you before taking out a small box from his pocket and getting down on one knee. "so, will you?"

PARK JISUNG

jisung would totally ruin his own surprise of proposing to you. he would misplace the ring some place that sends him into panic mode before coming home from work. when you arrive home, you notice how tense and nervous your boyfriend was making you slightly concerned as to why he was behaving that way. just when you're about to ask him what's wrong, he's already out the door going to check the car and the streets in case it must have fell from his pocket. pouting slightly, you're left along in the house for a bit so you decide to just go and freshen up with a warm shower. you're hoping jisung would be back when you finish but he wasn't. when you're walking back into the room you and your boyfriend both share, your foot suddenly kicks something. you look down to find a small green, velvet box on the floor and eventually find out it's an engagement ring. your lips press together trying to contain that smile that was threatening to show. jisung was going to propose to you. you hear the front door suddenly open and close indicating that jisung was back in the house. quickly, you close the box and hide it behind your back before you hear your boyfriend call out your name. that's when jisung you finds you in the bedroom. "hi." jisung, still clearly stressed out, squeaks out a small 'hi' back before he's pacing from the bed to the nightstand to the bathroom. "looking for something?" you watch as he peeks his head from the bathroom door. "i am. i lost something important today." "oh? what did you lose?" jisung comes out from the bathroom feeling the signs of defeat. with a pouty look on his face, he walks over to the bed you both share before plopping his back on it. "it's a small box." a grin breaks out on your face before you plant yourself a seat next to him on the bed. "this box you mean?" you pop out the small green, velvet box from behind you presenting it to him before he sits up straight, his eyes widening in relief. "jisung, is this what i think it is?" he carefully takes the box from your hand and opens it, revealing the ring again. "it was suppose to be a surprise..." you could only smile at him. "i'm still waiting for you to ask me, ji." and you watch as his eyes shyly meet your's. "will you marry me?"

©𝐣𝐞𝐧𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐢𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

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bad268 · 8 months ago

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a kimi story where the reader is ollie’s sister and they’re a secret and ollie finds out please

Impromptu Meeting (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Bearman! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (AHHH I LOVE THIS)

Warnings: Making out, brief sex joke (if you squint)

POV: Second Person (You/your/They/them)

W.C. 1253

Summary: Maybe sharing a room wasn't a good idea...

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

It was not how you imagined introducing your boyfriend to your family, let alone your brother.

You were supposed to be there to support Ollie (which you were!), and it wasn’t like you were sneaking off to another garage or wearing another team’s kit. Thankfully, Kimi had signed to Prema at the beginning of the season, so that was not something you needed to worry about.

When you first met Kimi through a mutual friend, he did not know your brother. Granted, you only introduced yourself by your first name, but drivers stuck with drivers. You assumed he knew that you were associated with one of the drivers. It wasn’t until the middle of the Formula 2 season that Kimi finally made the connection.

You had stayed up the entire night before, catching up on assignments you had been putting off in order to spend more time with Kimi. You had traveled to the track a few days early to meet with him, and you told your family it was for a school trip. You would meet them at the track by Thursday.

It was currently Wednesday, and you were cuddling with Kimi in your hotel room. You may or may not be struggling to stay awake, but that was not really a problem since Kimi had done all of the promotional things he needed to do that morning. Plus, the whole team, namely one of their drivers, was not there yet, so they did not want to get too far ahead without the rest of the team.

You were watching some random lifetime movie on the television as you laid on Kimi’s chest. He may have been reading race strategies, but you were not going to force him to pay attention to the movie when you weren't paying attention anyway. You were more captivated with listening to his heartbeat and watching his concentration focus on the piece of paper. At one point, you moved up a little to lay your head on his shoulder, so you could look at the paper too. Despite growing up surrounded by racing, you still could not understand most of the strategies for the life of you.

“Y’know,” You broke the silence as you shifted your attention to his face. He looked down at you, his concentration being broken as soon as you moved, but he did not say anything. “I really wish I understood any of that jargon. Sometimes I wish I could read it and think ‘Ah, yes! This will be a one-stop race and we’ll pit for mediums.’ I really do sometimes.”

“I thought you just liked the sport,” Kimi laughed as he set the papers to the side. “You really don’t care about the behind the scenes or the strategies. You like cars going fast, and you like the people in the cars.”

“Sometimes, I really wish you didn’t know me as well as you do,” You giggled as you leaned up to peck his lips. He reciprocated immediately, pulling you onto his lap as he wrapped his arms around your back to hold you to him. Your lips moved in sync for who-knows how long, and you were only broken apart by the sound of bags being dropped on the floor. That’s when you finally pulled apart, thinking it was Kimi’s dad or Anthoine, but no. It was Ollie with his jaw on the floor and his hand over his eyes. You moved away from Kimi and approached Ollie, but it’s not like he could see you. You approached him cautiously, reaching out your hand, “Ollie, I can explain.”

To say Kimi was confused would be an understatement. He knew Ollie was going to come today, but why would you need to explain to Ollie? The Prema boys almost always shared a hotel room. He had walked in on Ollie with a few people, so why was he reacting this way when the tables were turned?

“I don’t need to see this!” Ollie complained as he turned around and walked back into the hallway.

“Ollie, wait,” You followed after him, causing Kimi to also climb out of the bed, wanting to get to the bottom of this. He grabbed a keycard just in case as he followed you both toward the stairwell and out to the back of the hotel. “Ollie, please. Give me a chance to explain.”

“You and my teammate? Really?” Ollie sighed, turning around to face you. It did not sound like a disappointed sigh, just a confused one. You could work with that. “Why my teammate? Also, I thought you had a boyfriend!”

“I do! It’s Kimi,” You explained as you moved to stand in front of Ollie. “It’s been Kimi this whole time. We’ve been seeing each other since Paul and I went to the FRECA race at Mugello last year but became official after Hockenheim.”

“All this time I thought you liked Paul,” Ollie commented to himself, but it caused you to laugh. “What?”

“I’ve been around Paul for too long,” You laughed, finally letting out a breath you had been holding. “He’s like a brother too much.”

“Hey! You already have a brother! Don’t go replacing me already!” Ollie protested, and that caught Kimi’s attention. He had been hiding by the stairs, watching you two converse in the parking lot, but at that point, he could not hold back his shock.

“Brother?” He said out loud on accident, causing both of you to look at him. He never realized how similar you looked until that moment. Not identical, but now that you both stood side-by-side, looking at him, it was fairly obvious that you were siblings. “You’re related.”

“Maybe,” You chuckled at the look on his face. Just as much, maybe more, shock than when Ollie saw you and Kimi.

“Yeah, that’s my younger sibling,” Ollie said as he pointed at you before brushing past you to walk up to Kimi. “I get that you’re my teammate, but if you screw this up, I will push you off the track.”

“You’re not gonna forbid me from dating your sibling?” Kimi was confused, but he would accept it with open arms if it meant he got to stay with you.

“No,” Ollie sighed with a smile. “I’ve heard enough about how well you treat them, so I’m not concerned. Don’t make me concerned, Andrea.”

“I’ll try my best,” Kimi replied back with a smile as Ollie pulled him into a hug. Having your older brother’s approval was something you always wanted, so you smiled as well.

“Oh, one more thing,” Ollie started as he turned to look at you, still standing in the spot you were at previously. You slowly walked over to join the two. Ollie turned from smiley to downright serious in the blink of an eye; it almost scared you. “I don’t wanna walk in on you making out ever again.”

“Then, the same rule goes to you,” Kimi joked back, causing you to gape at Ollie.

“You’re making out with people? Ew.” You jokingly pushed away from Ollie, wiping your hands on your shirt.

“You did the same thing! Don’t even try to flip this on me!” Ollie tried to defend

“I have a feeling we should not be sharing a room anymore,” Kimi trailed off to himself as he slowly started moving towards the stairwell again.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Andrea?” Ollie accused as Kimi took off up the stairs. “No! Get back here! We’re not done with this conversation!”

~~~~~

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nanaslutt · 1 year ago

Note

i feel like choso probably wouldn’t have been with many people (maybe anyone) before with him being half-cursed spirit.

what would be be like getting head for the first time?

I’m so glad you asked :3

contains: fem reader, inexperienced!Choso, so much praise, dirty talk, teasing, insecurity, comfort, choso has a crush on reader, first orgasm, he cries from pleasure, soft as hell

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

“You gotta sit still Choso, don’t you know how big you are?” You asked seductively, jerking his hard on while you sat on your knees on the floor in front of him, “You might seriously hurt someone with this thing.. you don’t want that right?” You questioned again. He shook his head, he didn’t wanna hurt anyone, especially not you.

“Good boy, just keep your ass on the bed and i’ll take care of everything.” You reassured, rubbing your hands along his thick thighs soothingly.

—

Choso had no idea how things escalated this quickly, the two of you had gotten dragged into a conversation about your sexual experiences with Gojo, and suddenly here you were, in his room between his legs after he confessed that he had never been touched before.

This situation was something he didn’t even dare dream of, he never thought he was allowed to think of you this way. Choso had talked to Yuuji about how he felt about you, but nothing of this manner, just how cute he thought you looked in your uniform, how nervous you made him whenever you looked his way, the ball of warmth in his stomach whenever you touched him.

He always stopped his thoughts whenever the warm feeling started to drop lower in his pelvis when he saw you stretch your arms above your head before sparing, your stomach rising to reveal your soft looking tummy. Looking away when it had rained during a mission together, the liquid soaking through your shirt, making it see through, where he sometimes got a glimpse of the black bra you wore underneath your clothes.

So when you dragged him aside after the conversation and asked if he wanted you to show him what a blow job felt like, who was he to deny his long-term crush?

—

Your fingers rubbed along his dripping slit, collecting his pre before you stroked the wetness down the length of his cock, making his breath hitch. You had only been touching him for a couple minutes maybe, and he already felt like something was going to come out.

"I- I think I'm ready." He said, his knee bouncing under the weight of your hand, trying to ease his nerves. "Tap my head twice if its too much for you Choso," you smiled sweetly up at him, making him suck in a breath at how beautiful you looked between his thighs combined with the use of his name.

He watched with bated breath as you opened your mouth, your pretty pink tongue darting out and licking the slit of his cock, making his body jerk forward at the contact, "You okay?" you asked in between kitten licks on his head. He nodded, not being able to take his dark eyes off the scene in front of him, "Just feels s-sensitive." He explained.

You giggled before taking his mushroom tip into your mouth and suckling gently, using your tongue to expertly draw circles around it. Choso's breath hitched above you, his jaw dropping open at the feeling of your warm mouth enveloping his cock. This sensation was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. He started getting dizzy when you started bobbing your head slowly, taking more and more of his length into your mouth as you did so.

Was it supposed to feel this intense? Did it always feel like this? He felt like he was losing his mind, like he had taken some drug that made his brain feel like mush, and his body feel like lava.

"I-its so warm, shit.." He cursed, his cock twitching strongly against your tongue as you took him even deeper. He swore he saw stars when he felt you hum around his length, sending delicious vibrations through his balls.

He was unsure of what to do with his hands, they were just digging into the sheets behind him, but every neuron in his brain was telling him to pet your hair. He wanted to touch you so bad, but he didn't know if he was allowed to.

You popped your lips off his cock, replacing it with your hand as you stroked him quicker, nuzzling your head against his thigh and peppering kisses into the skin there. "I, I want to touch you, can I?" He asked shyly, maintaining eye contact with you through his hooded eyes.

"Of course, you can do anything you want Choso." You said smiling, "As long as your hips stay on the bed." You added, going back to taking his cock into your mouth. His hand immediately came to place itself on your head, not putting any pressure on you, instead just resting it there.

His groans increased in volume when you took his cock to the hilt, his fat tip hit the back of your throat, making you gag around him, the feeling of your throat constricting around his dick made his eyes roll back in his head. "S-so good- feels so good," He moaned out, his jaw had gone slack and his eyes were trying their best to stay open and watch the show you were putting on for him.

Choso had to fight his hips to not buck up into your mouth when your throat repeatedly took him in, over and over again he felt his tip hit the back of your throat, and it was almost too much to take. He started feeling that semi familiar warmth coil in his stomach, the feeling being more intense this time around as he panted and heaved loudly, squirming against the sheets.

"A-ah wait s-stop please, p-please," He begged, sighing in relief when you popped your lips off his cock. Choso’s his hand came down to squeeze the base of his cock harshly, to prevent himself from cuming so fast and embarrassing himself in front of you. "Why'd you stop me? Are you okay?" You ask concerned, the hoarseness of your voice being very prevalent from the abuse your throat had taken.

"I uh.. I think I was about to cum." He admitted, giving the base of his cock one last squeeze before he let go of it, letting it twitch in the air between the two of you. “Ohh, Choso,” you laughed lightly, making his face heat up, “I want you to cum, that’s why i’m doing this.” Your beautiful voice rang in his ears.

Although you had just given him permission, he still shook his head, “No?” you asked, tilting your head to the side, confused. “I don’t..” He paused, gathering all the courage in his body before he spoke again, “I don’t wanna cum too quick.” He said, “I’m sure other people you’ve been with have.. lasted l-longer.” he stuttered out.

His words made you bite your bottom lip, suppressing a smile at how cute he could be. You had no idea he was insecure about this kind of thing. “Choso, this is your first time ever being touched, right?” You ask, rubbing comforting patterns into his thigh with one hand while you wrapped your other around his dick again, starting up a slow pace.

He nodded, body jerking at the sudden pleasure starting up again. “Exactly, so your not as used to this kind of this like someone else might be.” You explained, “But this isn’t about anyone else, this is about you and me.” Your words were doing wonders on his self esteem. “I have no expectations from you, i’m not comparing you to a single other soul.” You reassured, stroking him faster now, his eyes fluttered as he soaked in your words.

“O-okay.” He eventually said, making you smile as you repeated the word back to him, before licking his tip once more, “If you feel like you’re gonna cum, just let it out, I got you.” you comforted, taking him back into your throat again.

He hoped his face wasn’t as red as it felt, (it was) as he slapped a big hand over his mouth to conceal his groans and heavy breathing when your bobbing picked up.

There were strings of spit connecting from the base of his cock to your lips, the sight was so erotic. He almost passed out when he felt your fingers expertly massage his wet balls in your soft hands, squeezing them just right, and steadily working him back up to his orgasm.

“Shit- I- Im close again.” He said, his hand dropping from his mouth as he placed it back on your head and gripped it for stability. You moaned out an ‘mhm mhm’ around him in acknowledgment, trying to let him know it was alright. “It f-feels weird.. I think it’s coming-“ He whined, his thighs shaking and abs clenching at his impending high.

You popped off his dick, sticking out your tongue and stroking him quickly, still massaging his heavy balls, “Yesyesyes good boy Choso, let it out, cum for me.” You whined, and that was all the encouragement he needed.

He didn’t think he’d ever felt anything so intense, he fought to keep his eyes open as he released his load all over your face and tongue, feeling your hot breath pant against his length. Tears he didn’t know had been forming dripped down his face as his body curled in on itself, not being able to take such intense pleasure.

“F-fuck ngggh- ffffuck!!” Curses of your name fell from the dark haired man’s lips as his orgasm seemingly went on forever. His body shook and shook with pleasure even after the ropes of cum stopped, you swallowed up everything he gave you, wiping up the cum that landed on your cheeks you popped your finger into your mouth, sucking it off.

You leaned your head forward to leave a soft kiss on his sensitive cockhead, making him whine, before you stood to your feet in front of him.

“Good fucking boy Choso, how did that feel?” You asked, taking his face in your hands and wiping away his tears, his eyes glassed over, his soul still finding his way back into his body as he took in your words.

He just nodded at you, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he swallowed air into his lungs greedily, “Thank you, t-thank you.” he repeated, wrapping his strong arms around your body. You took the opportunity to sit on his thighs, careful to avoid sitting on his still sensitive but softening cock.

You held his heavy head against your chest, “Thank you~” you giggled, pulling his head away from you and making him look into your eyes, “Felt so good.” he said, shaking his head.

You held his soft cheeks in your hands, before you brought your lips to his head and left a soft kiss against his forehead. “And this is just the beginning.” You replied.

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testrella · 6 months ago

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CRAZY RICH ASIANS…! G.SATORU X READER : PROLOGUE

𝜗𝜚 SYNOPSIS 𝜗𝜚

since the beginning of japan, the gojo clan has always been wealthy. the clan brought their money to rural japan and built from the bottom up, making them the landlords of half of japan.

gojo satoru, the heir to everything, finds himself in a difficult position as he fell for somebody who his family would never approve. yet, he cannot find himself to leave as you are the first girl who isn't interested in his family's wealth.

𝜗𝜚 | PROLOGUE

money.

sony corporation, mitsubishi corporation, nintendo co, sanrio co etc…

all these companies are based in japan and rack up billions in revenue every month. with money, comes power, and with power comes authority over everything.

and that was all satoru ever knew growing up.

“gojo satoru! how would i even begin to explain your state to your mother?!”

the first time satoru noticed his authority over people in the real world was when he was seven.

he was covered in mud, head to toe. any other day, he could’ve gotten away with it. but today was not those days.

the suit personally made for him that day was too tight. he believed if he took a walk outside, it’d stretch and fit to his liking. one thing led to another and his now ¥5790 suit was in ruins.

though he didn’t see an issue with the suit being covered in grimy wet dirt, and possibly worms. his mother gave him permission to go outside. but she knew that satoru, at age seven, would find a way to mess up his suit.

“how could you explain what to me?” the snake herself walked through satoru’s door.

satoru always believed his mother was a snake. not because her teeth could most certainly be filled with venom, or the fact she was twofaced. but because she lurks silently and waits for the right moment to wreak havoc.

before he could greet her, a loud, sharp smack was echoed in the room. almost like a wet towel was being thrown against the floor.

“how dare you let my child walk around looking like this?” her voice was strong and full of jurisdiction.

satoru watched the head maid get beaten to the floor. it was hit after hit. it was like a broken movie cd, and it replaying the worst scene.

“mom, please stop..” he spoke barely above a whisper. but somewhere within that sentence, he gained consciousness.

as he watched blood splattered across the room, he knew in that moment that he was the only one who could say something. everyone watched in terror as the young boy stood with unshaken bravery.

“mother, as future heir to the gojo clan, i-i command you to stop!!”

and she did. that was power.

and nobody in japan had any when standing next to gojo satoru.

taking care of kids full-time wasn’t something you had in mind. children are snotty, had sticky fingers and asked a million questions that have no answers.

your heart was set on journalism.

you wanted to be the next to have their big break with the most jaw dropping piece. but fate had other ideas for me.

“boys in the back, please be quiet. how many times do i have to ask all of you to not talk while someone’s presenting??” a frustrated sigh escaped your lips as they continued their banter at the kid in front of the class.

now you find yourself in a secondary classroom, asking teenagers to be quite for the millionth time.

“miss. l/n,” your head turned to the direction of the child, “may i use the restroom? it’s an emergency.”

you knew him well enough that he was trying to escape from presenting his project next. the boy was quiet and kept to himself. the only time he would ever speak was to use the restroom, or to greet you in the morning.

“nice try, you can go after you present. come on up fushiguro, you’re next.” you gave him an encouraging smile as his posture slumped.

you rested your arms on your desk and watched the boy slowly walk up to the front. he gave you one last ‘do i have to?’ look before speaking to his peers.

once again, the group of boys snickered and made rude remarks towards him.

“look at emo boy up there. his hair is covering his entire face!”

“i bet you could punch him, and he wouldn’t see it coming.”

before you could silence them, your student spoke up.

“why don’t you come up and find out then?”

the class starts echoing ‘ooouuu’ at his comeback. as smart as it was, it was highly inappropriate. sighing, you stand up from your chair “okay, settle down everyo-“

“OH SO ITS LIKE THAT EMO BOY?!”

one of the boys from the back stands up so aggressively that it knocks down the desk in front of him.

“yeah, it’s like that.” fushiguro states with the straightest face anybody could have. he was unphased by the other’s outburst. as if he had his share of tantrums from others.

“you’re gonna let him talk to you like that? beat his ass!” one kid blurted.

“get his ass! we got you from right here…” another said while muttering the last sentence.

and of course, with teaching, you get to see your fair share of fights. although nothing could’ve prepared for you to see a five v one.

..and nothing, absolutely NOTHING could’ve prepared you to watch the quiet kid in your class demolish all five boys before being separated.

“megumi fushiguro! i will be calling your father, and he WILL be having a meeting with miss. l/n and myself.” declared the head of the school.

you watched awkwardly as he slumped down into his chair, muttering a quiet ‘he’s not my father’ and wiping the dry blood on his face. you wanted to speak up but the tension in office was too thick.

“i’ll- um,” both the dean and megumi look at you, the first to break the silence. “i’ll get fushiguro some ice and bandages. i’ll be back before his father-“

“he’s not my dad!”

“oh! his um, his guardian. i’ll be back before his guardian arrives.” you sigh realizing that any errands you’ve had before would have to be rescheduled.

the cold, tingling feelings lingers on both hands as you alternate the ice bag on your hands. your eyes are glued to the floor as you have today's events replay in your head.

from your lack of situational awareness, you bump into a wall. or at least what you thought was a wall. you look up and see a white haired male towering over you.

“woah there little lady, you okay? seems like we’re both in a hurry today.”

𝜗𝜚 | CHAPTER ONE : fight! fight! fight!

tag list: @roscpctals99 @poeticlovefanpage @mistyheart @sureconfused @chilichopsticks @lightshowerrr @faeryminnyx @0001010dog @myabae @nivi @therealestpussyeater @kolpvii @sleepykittycx @browrm @tojisworm-5 @universallystrangeravenue @catobsessedlady @shivzypuff @nico707 @invisible-mori @peqch-pie @dilflover-3 @lovelivelaygh1324 @mo0sin @gojoracle @foliea @honoredalone @goldenglow149 @portgas459ace @sealsu @misorastars @hyori2 @selysixn

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more-hysteria-things · 18 days ago

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BEGGING FOR SOME LIKE JACK FLUFF FROM LIKE A ROUGH DAY ON SET AND HIM JUST BEING SWEET TO US!! (my first scenario🥳)

ROUGH DAY

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jack champion x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: it’s one of those days on set, and jack is not having it. even worse that it’s his birthday, the day when it’s supposed to be fun and carefree. then, you come along to truly show how much he means to you.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none! just tooth rotting fluff :)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,224

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: FIRST JACK FIC LFG.

also, since this is my other account for non-sturniolo fics i’m still putting the same tag list. if you would like to not get tagged for this blog, just let me know!

shoutout to bbg @venusbabysblog for helping me get started🥹

𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 blessing. it’s a job where you have great opportunities to meet amazing people and be in hit films, but sometimes it’s a struggle. jack opens the door to his trailer with a clenched jaw, shutting the door as he looks around. his eyebrows twitch in confusion, noticing how you’re not in sight.

your boyfriend loves to bring you along to wherever he goes for filming. one reason being that he honestly can’t live without you, but also because you’re his biggest fan and will support him through anything. usually, you’d be watching him act from afar or you’d be waiting in his trailer by watching TV or keeping yourself occupied in general. however, you’re nowhere to be seen.

he’s on a long break until later tonight, which annoys him. he just wants this day to be over. “y/n?” he calls out, peeking his head into the small bedroom. alas, you’re not there.

alarms start to go off in his head, although it’s silly. you can’t really go anywhere, but since you’re not in your usual spot, the caring boyfriend in him makes him worry that something bad has happened. especially since you didn’t text him that you were going somewhere or anything.

then, a giggle is heard along with the opening of his trailer door, and he turns around to face the noise. he takes a small sigh of relief when he sees you beaming from ear to ear holding a present bag.

while in the middle of a scene, jack texted you about the day he’s having—lines he couldn’t nail, and a director who seemed impossible to please. you frown slightly when you see his semi-disgruntled face, shuffling over to him excitedly to wrap your arms around his body in an embrace he desperately needs. he exhales deeply, bends down to nuzzle his face into your neck, and kisses it softly.

“sorry, i was hoping i’d be back before you were, but your mom and i got stuck in traffic,” you say in his chest before pulling away after long seconds. trying to make the atmosphere more positive, you smile and extend your arm with the bag in hand. “happy birthday!”

the smallest smile appears on his face, grabbing your hand to head over to the leather couch to sit down. he places the bag onto the floor, removing the tissue inside of it to reveal his presents. his eyes widen in surprise, seeing more than he thought you’d get him. “you didn’t have to do all of this...” he says, a small blush forming on his cheeks.

he pulls out the first thing that sits on top of the rest, which is a homemade birthday card out of construction paper in his favorite color. he lets out a chuckle as he looks at the front of it, seeing two drawn stick figures that are supposed to be you and him holding hands with the title in big writing: HAPPY BIRTHDAY •ᴗ•

opening the card, there’s a bunch of words scribbled on the right side.

jack,

*queue song* happy birthday to you!

i am so incredibly proud of you watching the way you chase your dreams. here’s to many more birthdays, memories, and quiet moments in between the chaos. no matter how many lights and cameras around, you’ll always just be jack to me. the one who laughs too loud, holds me close, and somehow manages to make me feel like I’m the only girl in the world.

i’m so grateful to be apart of your story.

always, y/n ❤︎

p.s. like what your name implies, you are indeed a champion.

his heart jumps with joy, closing the note and leaning in to peck you on the nose. your face turns red as you try not to beam with happiness, tilting your head to the bag. “there’s still a lot more.”

he nods, placing the card aside as he grabs a leather journal, specifically personalized for him. the border of it is embroidered with eye-catching detail, his initials JC in big cursive letters in the middle. you know jack sometimes likes to scribble lines down in between takes in a way to remember, or something to put his ideas in for fun. he flips through the pages rapidly, the gust of air flowing on his face as he smells the paper and leather mixed.

you watch his every move, nibbling on your bottom lip excitedly when he pulls out a small, navy blue box. inside of it is a chained necklace with a small pendant of a waxing crescent. the moon phase the day he was born.

scratching the back of your neck nervously, you speak. “this one’s a little girly…” you trail off. “you don’t have to wear it, you can hang it up or something for decoration. i just thought it was pretty.”

he nudges your arm with his elbow. “stop that. it’s beautiful; i love it.”

jack carefully takes it out of the box, undoing the chain and reaching behind his neck to clip it. the length is perfect, and the accessory oddly suits him. “thank you.” he says softly, running his hand over the moon and reaching into the bag once more.

this time, he pulls out two things. another book along with a film camera on top of it tied in ribbon so both items can stick together. while untying it, he notices the scrapbook underneath.

THE STORY OF US…

he glances at you as he starts to look into it. the pages are filled with film photos, ticket stubs, and little mementos from your favorite times together. you’d written little captions under each, capturing inside jokes and sweet moments. it was something he could flip through on hard days.

however, each left page is blank. “you can add to it whenever you have the time. it takes two people to make a love story, you know.” you explain, feeling somewhat cheesy and cringy at the saying, but you mean it.

last but not least, the last few items are snacks. homemade cookies, energy bars, and even a small container of his favorite food.

he feels overwhelmed by all of the gifts but in a good way. nobody has ever shown him this much adoration before, and it’s obvious how much he means to you. “y/n.” your name rolls perfectly off of his tongue, his eyes not leaving the presents now scattered on the couch cushion. “i love it all so much. genuinely, thank you.”

you place your hands on the sides of his neck so he can look at you, kissing him full of love. he cherishes you, and he couldn’t ask for a better girlfriend. he’s always so grateful that he met you that time in his hometown. you made his 𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐃𝐀𝐘 turn around completely.

“how’d you even do all of this?” he adds, starting to feel dumbfounded about how you did all of this under his nose without him knowing.

“i don’t kiss and tell.” you say with a smirk. “but also with the help of your mom.”

laughing, he grunts as he lays to rest his head on your stomach, your hands finding way into his wavy hair. “i’m so in love with you.” he mumbles, grabbing your hand and kissing the back of it.

best. birthday. ever.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @moncherriis @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @raysmayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @tworosesblackthorn @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hearrtsturns @freshsturns @etershine @sukiipjs @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @ivyyyyyysposts @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @thesturniolos @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @hrt-attack @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @bernardsbendystraws @hoes4matthew @deareststurns @starz4star

#jack champion #jack champion x reader #jack champion imagine #jack champion fanfic #ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry imagine #scream #scream six #scream 6 #ghostface #{ 𑁍ࠬܓ } : requests!

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tomriddleslove · 7 months ago

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Obliviate.

✩ Mattheo Riddle x Reader angst

Summary: The one where tensions are running higher, and everyone has to pick a side. You promised to stick by one another, but a stupid oath you made when you first met threatens to drive that apart. Alternatively: If you love her, then you have to let her go.

A/N: If you don’t listen to the recommended song when reading this i will fight you 🤺🤺

Song: Goodbye - Billie Eilish

The Daily Prophet

Unrest Brews as Dark Forces Loom

By Rita Skeeter

In a disturbing turn of events, Diagon Alley was rocked by an unprecedented attack last night, sending shockwaves throughout the wizarding community. Witnesses reported seeing a group of hooded figures, suspected to be Death Eaters, descending upon the famous magical thoroughfare with malicious intent.

The Flourish and Blotts bookstore bore the brunt of the assault, with its windows shattered and shelves overturned. Several nearby shops, including Ollivanders Wand Shop and Eeylops Owl Emporium, also sustained significant damage.

"I've never seen anything like it," said Horace Slughorn, a retired Potions Master who happened to be in the area during the attack. "It was pure pandemonium. People were running for cover, spells flying everywhere. It was like a scene out of the darkest days of the last wizarding war."

Ministry of Magic officials were quick to respond to the scene, deploying Aurors and members of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol to contain the situation. However, the attackers managed to evade capture, leaving behind a trail of destruction and instilling fear in the hearts of many.

The Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, condemned the attack in the strongest terms, vowing to apprehend those responsible and bring them to justice.

"We will not tolerate such brazen acts of violence in our society," Minister Shacklebolt declared in a statement issued this morning. "The Ministry is fully committed to ensuring the safety and security of all witches and wizards, and we will spare no effort in our pursuit of these criminals."

The attack on Diagon Alley serves as a grim reminder of the growing threat posed by Voldemort's followers, who have been emboldened in recent months by reports of their dark lord's rumoured return. With tensions running high and fear gripping the wizarding world, many are left wondering what the future holds in this time of uncertainty.

You frown as you observe Mattheo, watching as he tosses the paper down onto the table in front of you with a huff. The tension in his face has become increasingly evident over the past few weeks, and you've begun to forget what Mattheo looks like when he isn't frowning.

You wrap your arms around his arm, leaning in close to him as you speak quietly.

“Hey. It’s alright,” You reassure, pressing a light kiss to his shoulder. He doesn’t tear his gaze away from the fireplace, a small huff of both frustration and amusement escaping his lips as he clenches his jaw, nodding.

“It’s alright.” He scoffs, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

It’s alright? No, it wasn’t alright. His father was a murderous lunatic who was about to trigger the second wizarding war. He had to sit back and watch his own friend get tortured for hours for failing to complete a task. He can't close his eyes without seeing Theodore writhing in pain on the floor.

Mattheo was expected to fight with them. The time would come, that was for certain. Mattheo would have to stand there, and raise his wand against the people he's shared a dorm with and sat in class with.

Hell, he would be expected to raise his wand against you.

“They always say this, Mattheo. They’ve been saying it for years, and nothing has happened.” You say, but even you can see how pathetic it sounds. Despite your efforts to comfort him, it's clear that his mind is elsewhere, consumed by the looming threat of war and the impossible choices he may soon be forced to make.

Mattheo finally tears his gaze away from the fireplace, his eyes meeting yours. Your breath hitches, the sheer look of sorrow in his eyes enough to shatter your heart into a million little pieces.

"I don't want to drag you into this," he confesses, his voice raw with emotion. "You deserve better than to be caught up in my mess."

Your heart sinks as you realize where this conversation is headed. "Mattheo, please," you plead, the fear in your voice palpable, "don't do this. Don't shut me out."

But he shakes his head, his expression pained. "I have to," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "Remember our promise?"

Mattheo looks up when he sees you sit next to him, a wide grin on your face as you unpack your bag.

He had seen you here and there in the common room. You always seemed to have an impossibly bright smile, far too lovely for the gloominess of Slytherin.

“Riddle.” You hum with a small grin, and he can't help but let a small smile tug at his lips as he looks over at you.

“What's wrong? You’re looking at me as though I’ve grown another head” You tease as you sit down next to him .

Mattheo blinks in surprise as you address him, the warmth of your smile catching him off guard. He's used to being treated with caution and apprehension, especially given his family's reputation and his own reserved demeanor. But your easy manner and genuine curiosity leave him feeling strangely disarmed.

"Nothing's wrong, just lost in thought, I suppose," he replies, a hint of amusement in his voice as he watches you unpack your bag. Despite himself, he can't help but feel a sense of curiosity about you, wondering what it is that draws you to him when so many others keep their distance.

-•-

“Please-” Mattheo pleads in frustration, slamming the door shut behind him as he storms through the empty common room. You follow after him briskly, slamming the door that separates the common room from the dorms closed with a flick of your wand as you corner him.

“What do you mean, please?” You snap, frowning at him.

“Stop-” He says, his movements exasperated as he motions between the two of you “- this! Stop trying to be friends with me! It’s for your own good.” He says, looking up at you.

You let out a dry laugh, a mix of amusement and frustration as you shove him lightly.

“Oh fuck off. So you can kiss me and spend every evening with me but when it suits you we are just friends. You don't get to decide what’s good for me, Mattheo. I choose what I do and who I associate with, and if that hurts me then so fucking be it.” You retort harshly. Mattheo goes to interject but you cut him off.

“No! You don't get to choose when you want to be with me. I want you, Mattheo. All of you. I couldn’t give two flying shits about who your father is, or who you associate with. I'm capable of making my own decisions.”

He remains silent, his expression torn between turmoil and guilt, as your words hang heavy in the air between you. You feel slightly guilty for your outburst and your expression softens, reaching out to hold his hand gently as you speak.

"You know, if you really think it's that dangerous for me to be around you, you could always just obliviate me. Make me forget about you completely."You quip, trying to lighten the mood

For a moment, Mattheo's shock gives way to a burst of laughter, the tension in the room dissipating as he shakes his head in disbelief. "You're impossible," he says, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."

-•-

You pull back from Mattheo, shaking your head. “No. No, that was a joke.” You stammer, but he turns to you.

“It wasn’t. We spoke about it afterwards. You promised me.” Mattheo says, sternly.

You know he’s right. You only agreed because the idea seemed so laughable. But now it was a reality, and you could see the hurt and disappointment in Mattheo's eyes.

Tears well up in your eyes as you struggle to find the right words, the weight of everything crashing down on you like a ton of bricks. "I love you, Mattheo," you say, more of a plea than anything else. He draws you into him, a strong arm wrapping around you tightly, as though he is scared to let you go. His hand cups the back of your head, pulling your head down to rest on his shoulder as he kisses the top of your head.

“I know. I love you too. That's why we have to.” He murmurs, trying his hardest to not let his voice break.

-•-

It’s not fair.

It wasn’t fucking fair.

Mattheo had just found it. Found his reason for living. Found his reason to keep going when all the odds were stacked against him. You were the air he breathed, the light that lit his life up and the tender hand that soothed him. You were his everything, and you had to be snatched away from him.

He gently raps on the door to your dorm, just to let you know he was about to enter before cracking the door open. You hastily scramble, shoving the book you were writing with under your pillow as you spot Mattheo.

He notices but he doesn't say a thing, no, he can't. Because in a few minutes, it would be as though he never existed to you. He couldn't tell what would have hurt more, you not being able to see him, or you not even knowing who he was. You’d hold his heart in your hands, unknowingly, and he would be nothing but a stranger.

“Not in here, Please, not in here.” You breathe out, your words hitching in your throat as you fight back tears. He nods wordlessly, taking a step back.

“No one’s in the common room. I’ll uh- go there.” He murmurs, his voice hollow and empty as he turns to leave, unable to bear the thought of facing you for what may be the last time.

As he makes his way down to the common room, every step heavier than the last, he can't shake the feeling of emptiness that gnaws at his insides. It's like a void, swallowing him whole and leaving nothing behind but a hollow shell of the person he used to be.

He finds a seat in the furthermost corner, where you both usually sat, facing the fireplace. He watches the embers crackle and dance, not even noticing your presence till you slide up into the seat next to him. He wants to avert his gaze when he sees the tears in your eyes, but instead, he reaches up.

His hands were shaking. Why were they shaking?

He wipes a stray tear from your cheek.

“My wand. Let me go uh-” He blurts , quickly getting up as he looks away. He blinks back tears as he hurries up the stairs. Instead of going up to his dorm, however, he sneaks into yours.

He walks over to your bed, pulling back your pillow. Sure enough, the small book you were so desperate to conceal from Mattheo was there. He looks around and then with a small huff, tucks it into his back pocket. He hurries back downstairs.

Returning to the common room, he sits back down next to you, his hand reaching out to gently intertwine with yours as you sit together in silence. For a while, you don't say anything. You fear that speaking will break this small bubble, where time has frozen and you can just enjoy your last moments together.

As Mattheo gently cups your face, his touch trembling with the weight of what's to come, he feels the soft dampness of your tears against his fingertips. Your eyes, filled with sorrow and pleading, search his for some semblance of reassurance, some sign that this isn't the end.

"I can't do this," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, his heart breaking with every word. "I can't lose you. You mean everything to me. I’m so scared"

Your sobs fill the air around you, the sound like a knife to Mattheo's heart as he struggles to hold back his own tears. He leans in, pressing his lips against yours in a tender, bittersweet kiss, savouring the taste of your lips one last time before it's all gone.

“I love you.” Is all you can muster. It’s pathetic, but it hurts to even think about anything.

You cling to him desperately, your fingers tangling in his hair as though trying to anchor yourself to the present. Mattheo feels a lump form in his throat, the weight of his decision pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket, but he knows that he has to do this. For your own safety, for your own sake, he has to let you go.

His forehead presses against yours, taking in every last moment of intimacy he’s granted. You don't open your eyes, and he's grateful, for he doesn't think he could bear to look you in the eye.

“Obliviate.”

The second after he murmurs the words he stumbles away from you, reeling backwards as though your touch has burnt him. You wouldn't remember a thing about him, not even his name. He couldn’t be close to you anymore.

Mattheo watches as you blink, confusion clouding your features as you try to make sense of your surroundings. You look around the room, your eyes scanning the familiar surroundings with a sense of bewilderment, and for a moment, Mattheo's heart clenches with the hope that maybe, just maybe, you'll remember him. But deep down, he knows that it's futile, that the spell has already taken effect, erasing every trace of him from your mind.

You shake your head slightly, as if trying to clear the fog from your thoughts, before turning and heading up to your bed. Mattheo watches you go, his heart breaking with every step you take away from him, knowing that he can never follow.

But then, just as you reach the top of the stairs, you pause, your gaze flickering back to where Mattheo stands in the corner of the room. And in that moment, you give him a small, absentminded smile, the kind of smile you might give to a passing stranger.

Mattheo's heart lurches in his chest at the sight of your smile. He wants to call out to you, to tell you who he is, to beg you to remember him, but he knows that it's pointless. You're gone, lost to him forever, and there's nothing he can do to change that.

As you disappear, he collapses down onto the sofa, He wants to sob, and for a second he thinks he is, a horrible restictive choking feeling in his throat as he looks down at the floor. He reaches into his pocket, fingers fumbling with the small black book, perhaps the last piece of you he’d truly have.

He finds the most recent entry and wipes away the tears that blur his vision as he begins to read.

Don't be alarmed when you see this. I want you to read every word of this carefully. This is you, that is writing. It is the 26th of June, 1996. You might have felt like you’ve woken up in the common room, feeling a bit disoriented.

You were obliviated. And it was your idea.

When you were that annoying, pestering little kid, you had taken it upon yourself to befriend a boy called Mattheo Riddle. You’ll see him over the next few days, perhaps. He might look at you as though it hurts him to. It most definitely does. He’s devastatingly handsome, with the softest brown curls and the most expressive eyes. I do believe you won't need me to describe him. Really, my love for him is so strong I doubt any sort of obliviate can erase the idea that Mattheo Riddle lives within the recesses of your heart. Everyone had warned you of how dangerous he was, how his father was rumoured to be the Dark Lord and that he was bound to be no good. But you, in your true Slytherin ambition, set out on a mission to befriend him.

And you fell in love. It was impossible not to, really.

He is everything to me. He was everything to you. He is the most brilliant boy I’ve known. Far too many people gave up on him early. He’s beyond just being incredibly intelligent. He feels. And that’s rarer than you might believe. For someone who was subjected to such horrible things growing up, he is tender. Do not let his bruised knuckles and split lips fool you.

Now, more than ever, he will struggle. He believes you are fully not aware of him. But with this, I hope you are.

Be there for him. Do not tell him about this. You were awfully good at forcing your way into people's lives. Do that for him now. Make him think it was a coincidence. Be there for him, and don’t let his stubbornness fool you. Merlin knows he will be stubborn. He is simply scared, and you mustn’t let that deter you.

People will often compare their lovers to the sun. Bright, warm, near perfect. Mattheo is the moon, casting a gentle glow in the darkness, guiding you through the night. He may not shine as brightly as the sun, but his presence is no less mesmerizing, no less essential.

You had always preferred the moon more, anyway.

Take care of him.

You stupid girl. You stupid, selfish girl.

Mattheo's hands tremble as he reads the letter, his heart constricting with every word, every line. It's like a knife to his heart, the pain of knowing that even in a situation like this, you still found a way to look after him, to care for him, to love him.

Tears blur his vision as he reads on, each word cutting deeper than the last. The book, filled with pages of recollections of the time they spent together, feels like a cruel reminder of everything he's lost, everything he can never get back.You had nearly filled the whole book, addressed to yourself with worries and letters in the hopes of getting your obliviated mind to fall back in love with Mattheo. To remember him, and to negate the whole idea of obliviating yourself by leaving this book for your future self.

And you did all of this just because you wanted to look after him.

It hurts to breathe, to even entertain the idea of going to bed tonight knowing that the love of his life sees him as nothing but a stranger. And in his hands, he holds the thing that could do the impossible, that could somehow reverse it all.

The very selfish part of him wants you to see the book. He wants to slip upstairs, and hide it back under your pillow, and let you find the words you addressed to yourself.

But he couldn’t. He could die far more happily knowing he’s not leaving you behind, no. Really, you were never his, the two of you forcing destiny in the opposite direction, living on borrowed time. Now he has to face the consequences of it all, and if he can stop you bearing the brunt of it, then he’s made no mistake.

He places the book down on the table, and doesn’t think twice about his actions.

“Incendio.”

#slytherin #slytherin boys #tom riddle #harry potter #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #slytherin boys fic #theodore nott #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #mattheo riddle angst #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle x you

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sleepynoons · 4 months ago

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togame x afab!f!reader (characters aged up), nsfw, 18+, not beta read

cw: marathon sex, unprotected sex, oral (receiving), slight face riding, subdrop + dubcon (not intended but could be interpreted as so), one slap on the ass, cum eating, fingering, descriptions of violence + pain + blood

notes: the underground fighter/fight club!au that no one asked for. i've never seen the movie either, so literally, take everything – especially the fight scene in this one-shot – with a fucking atom of salt. i was inspired by this lovely art, and since the manga mentions that togame has limitless stamina... well, i kinda had to do something with that info...

YOU'D EXPECT your boyfriend to be tired out by now. in fact, if you were him, the two of you would have gone to bed hours ago, deep in slumber from the day’s excitement and exhaustion. instead, you’re splayed out on the bed, arms boneless next to you and mouth releasing tired whimpers, as your body rocks along with every deep thrust from jo.

his hands hold onto your hips tightly, pulling you back as he pushes forward, attempting to bury himself ever deeper into you. jo’s always been competitive, and paired with his methodical nature, he’s obsessed with trying to bring the two of you to new heights of sexual pleasure.

how did the two of you end up like this?

your brain’s hazy, clouded by the feeling of jo’s cock kissing that sweet spot inside of you and his teeth nipping and biting at your neck and shoulders. but you try to recall, as a means to hang on, to stay awake for just a little bit longer.

you were invited to watch jo fight for the first time. you weren’t particularly fond of supporting violence, but he had insisted it was something of a casual community event, and it was good for some extra cash and fun prizes. it was also an important part of his life, and since the two of you’ve been dating for a few months now, he wanted to bring you along to meet some of his friends.

when both of you were driving to the club, hosted in an abandoned warehouse on the edge of town, you asked, “aren’t fight clubs illegal?”

he shrugged and said, “number one rule of fight club: don’t talk about fight club.”

you snorted and rolled your eyes. “you already have.” jo chuckled and answered all the questions you had until the two of you arrived.

he guided you toward the entrance and showed you around, pointing out a few coolers for drinks, the bathroom, and the arena itself. several people were already there, catching up and placing bets on the night’s matches.

as you walked around, you overheard someone say, “all my money’s on togame.” you glanced at your boyfriend, but he made no indication that he had heard anything.

after being introduced to a few of jo’s friends, it was almost time for the match-ups to start. he had explained to you earlier that he would have to leave you unaccompanied as all participants were required to prepare for their rounds in a large storage room, which was essentially a smaller, neighboring warehouse unit. you reassured him that you would be fine, and in the worst case, you would wait for him in the car.

the fights shortly began after your boyfriend left. you watched as challengers came and went, some throwing punches and kicks at each other while others with more experience used their wits and specific techniques. you cringed as fists collided with jaws and feet were swiped off the floor. but everyone, including the fighters, seemed to be enjoying themselves, so you remained in your seat.

after four matches, it was finally jo’s turn.

like all of the other fighters, jo was shirtless and barefoot. everyone in the audience seemed to roar for your boyfriend as he made his way into the ring. when he stepped into the light, you sucked in a deep breath, a little shocked and in awe.

you had never seen jo so excited about anything in his life.

the jo you knew ate so slow that all the food would be cold by the time he was half-finished, preferred to nap on a beach chair instead of swimming in the pool, and hosted gatherings with friends at home to avoid clubbing and drinking out. the person you’ve gotten to know in the past few months seemed to be a wholesome, harmless dork.

but this jo didn’t even spare you a glance. now that he was standing in the ring, he was laser-focused on his opponent, eyes wide with dilated pupils and a wild, animalistic glint in them. it became abundantly clear to everyone in the audience that, no matter what, jo would win.

apparently, jo had amassed quite a bit of a reputation for himself, hence why the fight club was so packed. the hollers and howls from the spectators escalated as jo exchanged blow after blow with his opponent. you watched as your boyfriend ducked a swing, shifted his balance and stepped on one of his opponent’s feet, effectively immobilizing them for a second, before using his shoulder to jab at and ram into the opponent’s solar plexus. the other stumbled back a bit before managing to land a heavy kick to jo’s side, and despite knowing it would leave a nasty bruise, jo didn’t flinch and instead lunged forward, landing a series of punches in quick succession to the other’s face. in a few moments, his opponent surrendered. you finally allowed yourself to breathe, only noticing then that you barely did throughout the fight.

as the referee held up jo’s arm to announce his victory, he finally looked around in search of you. your boyfriend must’ve noticed your stunned expression, so he cocked his head and discreetly nudged his chin towards the exit. intuition told you to wait for him outside.

as you rushed outside, jo easily caught up to you, spinning you around and pinning you to the car. you squeaked as he kissed you deeply, taking away the air you just managed to regain, and pressed his body against yours, the smell of sweat and rusting blood piquing your senses. when he broke away and you thought you had a moment to recollect yourself, he dove back in, sucking on your lips till they bruised and swelled and brushing his hands against your ear, knowing that the touch made you shudder and buckle at the knees. even when your legs gave way, he didn’t relent, and you had to gasp out a “it hurts!” for him to pull away. you watched as he let up, and when the two of you were face-to-face, that wild glint you saw earlier was still apparent in his eyes. but his usual lazy smile returned as he apologized and rubbed at the spot where the car door handle was digging into your skin.

you can’t seem to recall your return home, and even then, you only remember jo haphazardly unlocking his door as you clawed at his t-shirt to take it off. you were still oblivious then to what the night actually held in store.

you’re brought back to the present when jo’s arm suddenly wraps around the front of your shoulders and chest and heaves you up. now, your back is arced backwards, and the slight shift in angle causes you to mewl in pleasure. you’re starting to see white spots in your vision with the way his thick cock stretches your walls apart and pokes at new spots in you that you’ve never discovered yourself.

between pants, jo gulps and asks, “what are you thinking about? am i that bad?”

you want to object, but then he gives you a harsh slap to the ass cheek with his other hand that effectively silences you.

“princess, i won just for you, so give me some attention, yeah?”

you manage to choke out, “for me?” jo reaffirms by pulling almost all the way out, leaving only his tip inside you, and then thrusting himself in again heavily with force so strong you feel it rattle throughout your body. you’ve always known your boyfriend is strong, but today’s fight and sex have exceeded your expectations. you cry out shamelessly and cum unexpectedly that even jo releases a guttural moan when your pussy clamps down on him, and he also finishes.

you collapse onto the bed. faintly, you hear jo apologize, “shit, sorry, babe. didn’t mean to cum inside of you.” he helps you roll over so that you’re lying on your back, and picks your legs up to slide you fully onto the bed. you think it’s the end.

but suddenly, the bed dips at where your feet lie, and your legs are pried apart. jo lines firm kisses along your inner thighs, and you whimper at the feeling of his fingers playing with your folds. he slides the fingertip of his index finger up and down between your folds, causing you to jolt whenever he flicks at your clit.

“jo…,” you whisper. you rest your hands around your boyfriend’s neck, holding onto him in hopes of grounding yourself.

“how about one more, babe? just one more,” he pleads, transfixed at the sight of your messy, wet pussy. his want hasn’t been satiated. he needs to feel you one last time. he begs again, “i won’t put it in, i know you’re sore. i’m going to clean you up, alright?”

the feeling of his warm tongue against your hole erases all of your thoughts and concerns. he’s careful, aware that you’re spent and overstimulated, and he laps at the mixture of his and your cum spilling down and onto the sheets. when he feels your body tensing up, he pauses and presses feather-light kisses instead as he waits for you to relax once more. he then mouths at your folds, sucking one into his mouth and licking softly, then switching to the other. you’re both moaning at the sensation – you because every suckle brings you closer to your high and him because you taste, smell, and feel so sweet and delicious against his tongue. finally, he reaches the top and spreads apart your lower lips with two fingers, admiring the sight of your pert clit throbbing in anticipation and need.

you groan, eager and impatient, when jo stares for too long. you scratch at his undercut to get his attention and whine, “jo, hurry! want your mouth on me!”

obediently, he dips down and gingerly kisses your bud. you shiver at the light touch and cant your hips upward, urging him to continue. jo resumes, alternating between gentle pecks and quick sucks of your clit, which leaves you writhing and compounds your arousal. occasionally, he even hums, and the vibrations pinch at your bud and you yelp in surprise every time. you’re no longer holding onto his shoulders – you’re grabbing and tugging at the curls of your boyfriend’s hair and pressing your clit against his mouth and nose, desperate for release. jo supports your movements as his large, calloused hands cup your ass. lastly, jo adds in his tongue. the erratic, unpredictable switching between all of the different ways he can tease your oversensitive nub quickly sends you over, and as you scream and cum, your thoughts are fully consumed with the sensations of his mouth drinking up your release and his nose nudging against your clit to extend your climax. you’re wantonly rubbing yourself against jo, smearing your pussy messily against your boyfriend’s face, and your eyes roll back as he just takes it and laps at what he can.

“you’re so fucking good to me, princess,” he moans into your pussy. from his words, you feel one last crashing wave of your orgasm, pleasure overwhelming you for a little longer, before it begins to subside.

seeing that you’re coming down from your high, jo pulls away. he licks at his lips, savoring the remnants of your high, and watches as you begin to drift off. jo himself is finally feeling the drowsiness and settles next to you.

even as you’re losing consciousness, he whispers, “this is the best reward, baby.” you nuzzle into his warmth, mumble something incoherent, and fall asleep.

#wind breaker #wind breaker smut #wind breaker x reader #wind breaker (satoru nii)#wbk x reader #wbk smut #togame jo #togame jo x reader #jo togame x reader #togame x reader #togame smut #togame jo smut #jo togame smut #wbk #togame #carrot cake!

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yeokii · 9 months ago

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⌗ ADORE YOU ﹕이희승 (TEASER)

꒰ synopsis ꒱ all hopes were crushed when you realized there was no way to get close to your crush, choi beomgyu. your advances to get close to him never seemed to work. so, you decided to get closer to his best friend, heeseung, by joining the broadcasting club. but as scripts change, so do crushes, and you end up falling for his best friend instead.

▸ auditions are open . . . !

ㅤ❕MATCHMAKER ── crush bsf ! heeseung x reader

fast forward ⃕ [ genre ] : written, fluff, angst, 90s au, unrequited love

meet the members ! beomgyu, gaeul, jungwon, taehyun, juyeon [more tba.]

warnings 𖧷 [only in this scene] unrequited love, yn kinda uses hee, thats all I think

ㅤhe's a real catch ▹ est. 2OK ❨ 이희승 ❩ ⌗ catch adore you here!

⌕ [ archives ] one result found . . . hi (still on hiatus kinda) js came here to post the fic teaser :D (im prolly gna post this after mocks or after my igcses) also ty @yenqa sewlmate for writing the synopsis (ly dookie) send an ask or comment to be added in the taglist !

THE FALL OF NINETEEN-NINETY SIX MARKED A PIVOTAL MOMENT IN YOUR LIFE. Ever since you came into the world, you never really could grasp the concept of love.

You wrapped your head around the myths and tales your mother would read to you every night. You thought that every princess would have her own shining knight in armor. So, after thirteen years of living, where was yours?

Your knight in shining armor, or knights in shining armor, existed within the pages of the comic books you read. You often wondered if they would magically pop out of your books and transport you into their world. Similarly, you wondered whether any of the characters from your adored TV shows would step out and bring you into their lives.

So, it wasn't a surprise when your jaw dropped to the ground as you saw the most beautiful man in your life (well, technically, boy). If the epitome of beauty was a fourteen-year-old boy, it would be Beomgyu.

But it wasn’t just his face that made your thirteen-year-old self swoon over him, it was also the way he acted. You loved the way he conversed, his smooth way of talking at a young age and the way he smiled at you every time he made jokes with his friends. You loved how his eyes lightened every time he’d pull a silly prank.

But the problem was, he never talked to you. You admired him from afar. You never actually had the guts to talk to him, as if. You were content with watching his funny actions from a distance.

There were some moments when you pushed aside your nervousness and talked to him. You remember having butterflies in your stomach the moment you first talked to him. There were times when you both were paired up as project partners for a biology assessment and at that moment, you swore you could’ve worshiped the floor that your biology teacher walked on due to her giving you an opportunity like this.

You knew this was an opportunity to make your move. And you did. You brought him small snacks with little notes on them. Gave him gifts regularly. Maybe even took lessons from your best friend on how to subtly flirt with him. You really thought you had him. Because whenever you used to play out these little acts, you saw the subtle smile on his face. You were so close. It’s like the universe laid it out for you. Gosh, how lucky you were!

Luck. The luck that you thought you had. If luck was a person, you would’ve tackled it to the ground already. Because the day you were about to confess to him was the day he announced his new girlfriend.

His first girlfriend. You doubt you called it ‘love’ since the only thing she cared about was that he was popular and pretty. That’s it! All that girl could get from Beomgyu was his looks and his reputation. You could’ve scoffed at the sight.

Beomgyu was so much more than that. He was loyal, kind, and trustworthy. And she went for his looks. Even though she had him, you felt as if she was missing out on so much. You were partly sad due to them getting together and also due to Beomgyu getting used to his looks.

So, you were practically prancing when you heard the news of their breakup a month later. Did you care that Beomgyu was absolutely heartbroken? Well, yes, but you felt relieved that Beomgyu was finally unleashed from that mean troll's wrath.

And as he got older, he grew more handsome. And God did you love it. When you entered high school he was a completely different person. He had gotten more flirty and way more pretty. He was way out of your league.

Out of the years you were in this crappy high school, you made absolutely no improvement in your and Beomgyu’s relationship. Beomgyu, who kept getting new flings every summer and tons of situationships seemed to discard your existence. One could only say ‘What the fuck?’

Your thoughts swirled, and you had a collection of emotions roaming around your head until your best friend jolted you back into reality with a gentle nudge on the shoulder.

“Are you even listening?” Seori’s voice cut through your thoughts, annoyed, since she had to explain what she was talking about in the first place.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” You blinked, focusing your attention on your best friend.

She sighs, “I was saying that I think Doyoung is going to ask me out.” Seori pouts “Why does he not get that I don’t like him that way, jeez.”

Her ramble about her current boy toy washed out in the background. You were once back in your thoughts until you saw him heading into the cafeteria. Beomgyu entered the cafeteria, his smile widening at something his best friend said.

Lee Heeseung, Beomgyu’s best friend. His ride or die. As long as you can remember, they were attached to the hip. They were basically the package deal. If Beomgyu was the life of the party, Heeseung would hold up his hair while he threw up in the host’s toilet. While Beomgyu was the exact depiction of a social butterfly, Heeseung remained aloof, keeping people at arm’s length. You could only wonder how he dealt with Beomgyu’s outbursting personality.

“Earth to Yn!” Seori snapped her fingers in front of your face which once again, brought you back to reality.

“Sorry.” You sheepishly smiled looking at your best friend's annoyed face. Your friend followed the gaze you had fixed before looking over to her. And her eyes followed the trail of your alleged ‘man’–– Beomgyu.

“Him again.”A sigh erupted from Soeri, having enough of your rambling over your four-year-old crush.

“I’m sorry, alright!” You pouted, your back hunching over the disappointing development between you two which was nowhere to be found. “He’s just so cute, God!”

Your sigh was followed by your best friend. Not long after, your best friend’s fed-up expression converted into a rather eager one.

“I got it!” She exclaimed, her hand hitting your back while she practically screamed. You winced in pain as a few fellow students gave you judgemental stares.

“All you have to do is be close with his best friend, Lee Heeseung.” She slowly said, almost like a mastermind coming up with a villainous plan–well, you would consider your best friend to be some sort of evil criminal.

But this, this opened new angles in your head. It felt like the universe–or more like your best friend–laid it out for you again. Your once unsolvable puzzle showed a new direction, and the missing piece was all in front of you.

Okay, maybe you felt bad that you were going to use Heeseung like that, even looking forward to it. But, you were really desperate. To the point where you would actually be eager to attend Sunday mass just to ask God for Beomgyu to like you back or even spare one glance at you. Well, what could you do?

Out of excitement, you pulled Seori in for a hug with a squeal while giving her a kiss on the cheek which she in return, yelped. “Seori, you’re a genius!”

“Yes, I know.” She laughed a bit, escaping your tight grip on her before wiping the spot you kissed her hastily with her hands.

“I mean, how hard could it be?”

You smiled and your gaze wet up to the boy you loved for most of your life, then slowly to the equally handsome boy.

Jackpot.

adore you tags . @wonsbaer @isoobie @armydrcamers @heegyuwrld @nxzz-skz @txtlyn @enhastolemyheart @positivelyinlovewithjungwon @sumzysworld @eleanorheartschishiya @petalsofink @bluujeans @jvjsssnaa @iamliacamila @m3chigo @oldjws @kyrjnie @heartswonn @aeminju @en-dream @yeahsspider @imstupidcheesecat [closed]

tags . @flwoie @zuyairus @bubblytaetae @yenqa @haknom @redm4ri @hanniluvi @haechansbbg @taejaysreads @shinunoga-iie-wa @teddywonss

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