#like I feel silly again. I feel silly for what I do and what I say and i feel like I’m irritating people a little

[lovemomhatepolice]

what brought back that smile? - lando norris

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pairing: lando norris x fem! reader

warnings: kinda established relationship, fresh relationship, curious muppets!, English is my second language!

type: fluff, pure fluff

word count: 3,5k

summary: 5 times when someone asked the reason for Lando's sudden surge of happiness, but he preferred to keep his sweet secrets to himself

more content: f1 masterlist, lando norris masterlist

Since Lando Norris broke up with his then-girlfriend Luishina in 2022, no one has seen him this happy since. Of course, there have been moments where Lando walked around smiling - for example, when he won his first race in Miami or partying with friends in Ibiza. On more than one occasion, fans saw him joking and laughing until his stomach hurt with other drivers, but further down the line, everyone knew that the old Lando was gone. The one who laughed through love. The one foolishly in love, who proved it at every turn. Since his former relationship, Lando hasn't bonded with anyone - there were only rumors of fleeting romances or PR relationships. Until recently. In fact, no one knows when it took place. And since when Lando felt like a foolishly infatuated boy again.

THE FIRST TIME: Oscar Piastri When Oscar noticed changes in Lando's behavior, it was not much before the Japanese race. Or at least it wasn't so visible before. Norris was walking around smiling from ear to ear, constantly forgetting what he should do or who he should talk to about the changes in the car. No one paid much attention to it, and Oscar initially tried to ignore it as well, and winning in Miami a month later further eclipsed the spy's thoughts. After all, Lando had won his first race after so long in Formula One and so many times standing on the podium. The Mclaren drivers weren't the best of friends on the grid, but Oscar knew it wasn't because of winning the race. Or at least not just because of that.

Oscar was curious, even if he said very little about his life, the Lando case drilled him from the bottom up. And it started off small.

One morning 2 weeks after the Miami race, Lando showed up for a meeting with a goofy smile on his face. His attention was focused on everything during the strategy discussion, his mind was clearly elsewhere.

“Are you okay?” asked Oscar, poking his teammate under the table. As if awakened from his trance, Lando stopped tapping his fingers against his thigh and turned his head toward the Australian, smiling that silly grin again. “Yeah, all good, mate. “ he asked, tilting his head to the side. Oh, how foolishly charmed he was. “Why do you ask?”

Oscar shrugged. “I dunno. You just seem... happier these days. What brought back that smile?”

The question hung in the air for a long moment. Lando hung his head and laughed quietly under his breath, as if he was thinking whether he wanted to say it or rather not. And that was the option he chose, keeping his new infatuation to himself.

“Well, you know, buddy, I won a race recently. A chance to celebrate, huh?”

Oscar laughed, but couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else behind that smile, and that Lando was lying right in his eyes. Something - or someone - had brought back that trademark Lando smile. But Oscar decided to let it go for now.

Meanwhile, Lando was smiling to himself. Was it really that noticeable? Could everyone now know his sweet secret?

Such questions were cluttering his mind, but he tried not to worry about them. They were quickly superseded by thoughts of [Y.N]. It was wild how fast she had slipped into his life. What had started as a chance meeting turned into hours of effortless conversation, late-night phone calls, and a connection that had somehow brought him back to life. He hadn't felt this way since…. well, he couldn't remember the last time. And that was the point of it all.

MUPPETS: Carlos Sainz Jr Carlos had known Lando since 2019, so this year was their 5th anniversary of knowing each other. From the very beginning, the men, despite the age difference, got along great. And they soon became friends, too, supporting each other in worse and better moments. You could say they knew each other like the back of their hand, so while Lando was drifting away more and more each possible time during their conversations, the Spaniard had no more questions or thoughts. He was well aware that his younger friend's head was occupied by not something, but someone.

The sun beat down on the lush green of the golf course, the Spanish heat was unrelenting even in the early hours of the day. Carlos set up for his shot, squinting against the blinding glare, while Lando stood to the side, waiting his turn. It was a rare moment of calm before the chaos of the Spanish Grand Prix weekend, and Carlos was glad to be spending it with his best friend.

Until he saw Lando miss every time, which hadn't happened all that often before. Well, okay, Lando was worse than Carlos at golf, but to that extent?

And those constant glances at the phone, which he was so reluctant to leave in the golf cart.

“Ay, muppet. What the hell is wrong with you?” rang out Carlos' voice as he hit the ball.

Of course it flew cleanly where it was supposed to fly. But what's the pleasure of playing as your friend drills a hole in the grass with his club, his other hand constantly checking his phone screen?

"Huh?" Lando snapped out of his trance. This had been happening to him more and more often lately, nay, it had been happening to him for more than three months now.

“You’ve been smiling like an idiot all day,” Carlos teased, though his tone was softer, more curious than mocking. “Actually, you’ve been like this for weeks like not months now. So, tell me—who is she?”

Lando’s cheeks flushed pink, and he quickly turned his attention to the golf ball at his feet, fiddling with his club. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, but there was a grin he couldn’t quite suppress. And in fact, I don't think he wanted to get rid of it.

Carlos laughed, poking Lando playfully on the shoulder. “Come on, cabrón. I know you too well and it's been a long time since you've been this happy. So who's the lucky girl? Who brought back that smile?”

Lando sighed under his breath - he knew he could trust Carlos, he was his best friend. He just liked the fact that he and [Y.N] were in a closed bubble of happiness that they had made for themselves in three months. Of course it was still fresh and nothing was certain yet, but Lando gave in. To whom as to whom, but to Carlos he already had to tell. It was drilling him from the inside.

“It's … nothing serious,” Lando finally said, shrugging his shoulders as if it was no big deal. “It's just… I'm meeting someone. I'm trying to keep it discreet.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Dude, I've known you long enough to know when you're serious about someone,” he said, and his voice became softer. “And if she makes you smile like that, I'd say it's more than a casual.”

Lando bit his lip, trying to hide the smile that threatened to break through. The truth was that [Y.N] had quickly become the best part of his days.

“Maybe,” he admitted, finally meeting Carlos' gaze. “But for now it's just … between us, sure?

Carlos clapped Lando on the back, a broad grin on his face. “I’m happy for you, hermano. And don’t worry—I won’t tell anyone. But I have to say, it’s good to see you like this again.”

They both laughed and Lando already knew he was lost. Together, with Carlos, were like the biggest gossips, so he quickly unlocked his phone, even jumping up and down with happiness, wanting to show Carlos some pictures of them together. What luck befell him when he found out that [Y.N] also loves to take pictures.

Carlos leaned closer, curious. Lando pulled out a photo from a few weeks ago - from his once-in-a-lifetime date with [Y.N]. They were sitting on a blanket in a meadow somewhere by the water, the golden sunset casting a warm glow over them. The girl's head was tilted toward him and resting on his shoulder, her eyes were crinkling with laughter, and Lando looked happier than Carlos had seen him in a long time. His hand was on the girl's shoulders, visibly embracing her closer to him.

“I want her to be the one, you know?” muttered Lando, smiling even wider when he saw the notification from her.

LUCKY CHARM: Lando's parents Lando was able to hide his fresh relationship from his friends, from his fans and from the rest of the world. But he definitely couldn't hide it from his parents and siblings. Not even a month of knowing [Y.N] had passed when he vividly talked about how much he had fallen in love and how he hoped she was the one and last woman in his life. His loved ones were damn happy to finally see the most sincere smile of his entire life on the face of this little Lando Norris.

The air around Silverstone was charged with electricity, and the energy of the home crowd gave Lando joy like no other race on the calendar. Walking through the bustling paddock, he felt lighter than he had in years. It wasn't just the thrill of racing on his own track - it was the realization that somewhere among the sea of faces there was [Y.N], watching him.

Fortunately, he managed to smuggle her into a private hospitality suite, away from prying cameras, journalists and fans. They had been seeing each other for almost four months, in truth they were not a couple, but everything was going for it. Lando wasn't the only one who was foolishly infatuated with the relationship; the girl, like him, walked around with her head in the clouds, as her university colleagues or friends seemed to notice more than once. But in her case it was easier to hide, after all, she didn't have a million eyes on her like Lando did.

When Lando entered his private area in the Mclaren garage, he immediately noticed his parents, sisters and brother, who were smiling at him from ear to ear. The entire Norris family had a close relationship with each other, so of course everyone knew about Lando's new sweetheart, whom he had been dating with for four months.

“And there's our smiling boy!” laughed Lando's mother, hugging her son tightly. The driver laughed under his breath, hugging his family one by one, fortunately in a place where the eyes of others did not reach and they could have a moment of peace. “I'm glad you're all here,” Lando said, stroking his younger sister Flo's hair.

“How could we not be here?” asked Oliver, Lando's brother, laughing under his breath.

The atmosphere was great, however, everyone knew this question would come sooner than perhaps it should?

“Well, you know what, tell us where she is,” said Lando's dad, poking him lightly on the shoulder. “You're laughing so hard, I won't believe she's not here.”

“Yes! Show us finally what brought back that smile,” said his mom, echoing her husband.

Lando felt his face heat up, but he couldn’t keep the grin from spreading. “You two don’t miss a thing, do you?” he said, shaking his head.

“We just want to meet her,” his mum said softly, eyes twinkling with warmth. “We’ve heard so much about her, and if she’s the reason our son’s been so happy lately, we’d love to say hello.”

After a moment's thought, Lando nodded. “All right. I'll bring her - but behave,” he said with nervous but excited energy.

Lando slipped stealthily out of the garage and headed for his room, which only he and a few Mclaren people had access to. Although it was a rather hidden place, [Y.N] did not complain. She could wait out the time until the race in peace, just as she could go out to Mclaren's garage and watch it there. Lando made her as comfortable as possible.

When the girl saw him, she raised her eyes and smiled warmly in his direction. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yes, everything is fine,” he assured her, taking her hand in his. At the same time, he forced her to get up from the soft couch. “But… there is someone who wants to meet you. My family is even dying to meet the woman of my heart.”

The girl took a deep breath and smiled. “I'd love to meet them.”

Holding hands, they returned to the hospitality. When they went inside, Lando's mother sighed quietly and immediately crossed the room to hug [Y.N]. “Oh, how nice to finally meet you,” she said, and her voice was filled with sincere warmth.

“She's beautiful,” Cisca whispered, looking at Lando. The boy only whispered a quiet “I know” and laughed under his breath.

Immediately the whole family greeted the girl, hugging her tightly and bestowing kind words on her, including telling her how happy they were that she was making Lando so happy again. And everything was somehow better. His parents and siblings were talking to the girl he'd had in his heart for several months, and everything was going smoothly. Lando was just standing off to the side, keeping his hand on her back and giving her a little kiss to make her feel better. But he was probably the most stressed one there.

Lando checked his watch, feeling the familiar pre-start jitters begin to overwhelm him. But today he felt a little better than usual.

“I have to go now,” he said reluctantly, turning to face the girl. His parents moved away to give them a moment of privacy.

“You can do it, you're amazing on the track,” she purred, placing her hands on his shoulders and gently correcting his suit.

Lando merely smiled in her direction and without hesitation placed his hand on her cheek and leaned in, pressing their lips together in a quick but tender kiss. This was not how they had imagined their first kiss, but in that moment it was their best memory and the time this kiss could have happened. Lando pulled away from [Y.N], their eyes met and they both smiled at each other, giggling under their breath.

Lando checked his watch, feeling the familiar pre-race jitters starting to creep in.

“I’ve got to go,” he said reluctantly, turning to her. His parents stepped back to give them a moment of privacy.

“Good luck out there,” she whispered, her eyes shining with pride. “You’re going to do amazing.”

Lando smiled, but there was a flicker of nerves in his eyes. “I hope so. This one’s important,” he said softly.

[Y.N] reached up, cupping his cheek with her hand. “You’ve got this, Lando. I believe in you.”

Without thinking, Lando leaned in, pressing his lips to hers in a swift, impulsive kiss. It wasn’t planned, but in that moment, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. He pulled back, their eyes locking, and they both smiled.

“For good luck,” he whispered, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

And even if he came in third place after the race, it didn't bother him much. He won something better and it was an amazing woman.

HI IBIZA: Max Fewtrell stream Max knew Lando since they were kids. Both could not imagine life without the other person, they were inseparable. Even if it didn't work out for them to be Formula One drivers by their side, it didn't change anything. They were always side by side, and as soon as Max heard about Lando's new crush, he knew this was the one. Norris had never talked so seriously and eagerly about any girl before. And Max liked to tease him about it. But at the same time, he was damn happy.

The warm glow of sunset in Ibiza paints everything with a golden sheen. Lando Norris, Max Fewtrell and their group of friends held a casual live stream at their bungalow, which they rented for the whole group of friends. This stream was definitely different from their typical ones, where they played games on two different sides of the screen, but that was good too.

Everyone was more muted than at times when they were playing and shouting at each other. However, the biggest difference could be felt in Lando. He was more subdued, gently but sincerely smiling, and his eyes shone with such happiness that you could envy him.

The stream had been going on for about an hour, and the fans didn't run out of questions. They were inundated with the same questions as always, but today they had more opportunity to answer them because they weren't stressed by the background game. Lando kept getting questions about the Championship, the races, the competition and some side silliness. Until Max caught one significant comment among thousands of others. And of course he had to ask them.

Fan comment: "Lando, what brought back that smile? It's been a long time since we've seen you so happy, and of course that's great, but what's your secret?"

Max looks at Lando with a smile and winks. "Good question," he says, leaning back in his chair. "So, man, what's been making you so happy lately?"

"Oh, you know. Life has been better lately. Beautiful weather, sunshine, we have a beach house. The break from racing is good for me too, my head isn't as busy," Lando replied, playing with his hair and smiling under his breath.

Oh how he lied, how he lied to keep his bubble of happiness calm even longer.

"Really? Gee, I guess I agree with that comment, you're somehow happier lately," said Max, glancing at Lando with a teasing look. He remembered well how Lando had talked down his relationship on the stream, but he wasn't going to do the same to him. "Or maybe you've found a hobby other than Formula One?"

"Maybe," he laughed lightly under his breath, feeling the warmth inside his body. "I guess I just got old and I'm not that rebellious 20-year-old anymore "

"Oh, it's definitely old age, you name it" Max laughed and went back to looking for interesting comments, leaving the matter of Lando's happiness. He wanted his friend to still have peace from prying eyes.

After the stream was over, everyone went their separate ways. Some decided to have a bonfire, but Lando felt he needed the solitude. He walked out to the beach, which they had right outside the gate of their cottage, and felt the cooler evening wind brush his face. He smiled under his breath when he saw [Y.N] by the shore. It wasn't a smile that the cameras could see; he reserved this one for her alone.

The girl was wearing a white loose dress that swayed gently in the wind, and her hair was tousled by the wind. It wasn't a moment before she heard him and gently turned toward him, giving him a beautiful smile. "Have you finished the stream yet?"

"It's been a while now," Lando stepped closer, feeling the sand under his feet surround him pleasantly. "I had to get away from the chaos. And the fans are getting curious, they asked what secret I have"

Girl raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Secret? What secret?"

Lando smiles mischievously and walks closer. "That I'm the happiest I've been in years." - he says in a quiet but sincere voice.

[Y.N] smiles, her eyes sparkling in the moonlight. Without another word, she steps into his arms, and Lando doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her, pulling her close. They stand there for a moment, just the two of them, the sound of the waves crashing in the background. Lando takes a deep breath and places a kiss on her hair, pulling her even closer to him. It was the peace he had needed for a long time

FIRST CHRISMTAS: [Y.N] Lando and [Y.N] had been together for almost half a year. Their lives were filled with happiness that neither of them had ever experienced before. From the first day, they understood each other like two peas in a pod, and that's how it stayed. That's why she was surprised by how happy Lando was.

The couple in love are together in the kitchen, with the countertop in front of them strewn with flour and other ingredients for making gingerbread cookies. [Y.N] is wearing one of Lando's voluminous sweaters and humming a Christmas carol, pacing next to the countertop. Lando, on the other hand, dressed in his loose Mclaren T-shirt and Christmas pajama pants, is trying to roll out the dough, but it's not going well. His hands are covered in flour and the dough keeps sticking to the rolling pin. Well, it's easier to say that his whole body is covered in flour.

"Do you need help, chef?" - asks [Y.N], leaning against the countertop and looking at him with an amused smile.

Lando raises his gaze, feigning impatience. "It's harder than it looks, sure?" - He laughs, combing his flour-dusted hair with his hand. "I thought baking was supposed to be easy."

"It's easy, you just have some manual problems," the girl laughs and moves to his side, gently taking the rolling pin from his hands. "Here, let me," she says, guiding him to the side. Their fingers brush as she takes over, a soft, tender moment.

"Sure, my baking queen," the boy laughs, looking at her with adoration.

"You could do the icing." the girl says, pointing to the already made gingerbread cookies.

Lando's eyes brighten, his smile widening. "Icing, huh? That's sounds better." He grabs a piping bag and starts filling it, but as he attempts to pipe a simple design, it all goes horribly wrong.

“Lando!” she laughs, her eyes crinkling with amusement. The icing has spilled everywhere.

He looks down at his hands, dripping with icing. “Well, that’s not what I had in mind…” He shrugs sheepishly.

“You’re adorable when you try, you know that?” She leans in and wipes a bit of icing from his cheek, her thumb brushing against his skin.

“And you’re just adorable,” he says, moving closer to her.

Lando’s hands quickly find their place on her waist, and his face is twisted into a genuine big smile. They both giggle, putting the matter of the cookies aside.

“What brought that smile again, huh?” the girl asks, touching his lips, which is also dirty with icing.

“You,” he says simply, and his voice carries a quiet sincerity that makes her heart skip a beat. "It was always you"

For a moment, they both stand in silence, the hum of the Christmas music in the background, the quiet crackling of the small fire in the corner of the livingroom adding to the coziness of the apartment. It’s a peaceful stillness, the kind that only exists between two people who’ve found something real.

A/N: i know it's no nut november and this should be smut but i swear when i had a vision i had to write this. i hope you like it because i won't lie, i fucking love it!

please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

[edenesth]

ATEEZ as Hogwarts Students

Pairing(s): hogwarts student!ateez x hogwarts student!reader

Word Count: 9.8k

A/N: Oh my gosh, thank you all so much for helping me reach 2.3k followers! To celebrate this, I'm back again with another one of these! Once again, special thanks to my one and only, my pookie, @itstheghostofmypast, for helping me confirm which houses some of the members should be in💘

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

Hongjoong ↠ Gryffindor

The Poor Prefect That Nobody Takes Seriously

"I swear to god, if I see another damn chocolate frog loose in the dorm, I'll—" Before Hongjoong could even finish, a cheeky first-year passing by stuck his tongue out at him. "What are you gonna do? Run off to cry to Professor McGonagall again?"

The seventh-year's jaw dropped, his blood pressure spiking, but the kid was gone before he could even scold him. Two years—he'd been a prefect for almost two years now, and still, no one ever took him seriously. Thinking back to his early days as an optimistic prefect, eager to bring order and discipline to his rowdy housemates, he knew now how impossible that dream was.

But was he going to stop trying?

Not a damn chance.

Hongjoong had chosen to become a prefect the very moment he was eligible in his fifth year. Professors had always praised him as reliable, a natural-born leader, and he'd believed that wholeheartedly. He'd pictured himself bringing order to his dormitory, respected by his housemates for his efforts to keep things in line. But the reality? Gryffindors, as he was learning, could be a lot harder to control than he ever expected.

Unfortunately, his "small but mighty" reputation didn't exactly translate into authority. He'd start off with a firm tone, reminding them of the rules, only to watch them twist his words into a rallying cry for their next scheme. His attempts at seriousness somehow only fueled their chaotic Gryffindor spirits, making him seem more like a mascot for daring antics than a figure of discipline.

While the academic staff continued to commend his commitment, his classmates saw him as the "cool" prefect—the one who'd cover for them more often than not, a little too forgiving to actually be feared. Some nights, he'd even find himself dragged into the very pranks he was supposed to be preventing, swept up by the contagious energy of his friends.

Despite everything, Hongjoong couldn't bring himself to truly give up. Every morning, he'd tell himself that today was the day he'd put his foot down, that he'd be the prefect his professors always said he could be. He knew the odds weren't in his favour, but in true Gryffindor fashion, he wasn't about to back down from the challenge.

Today's the day—I can feel it in my bones.

Letting out a determined breath, Hongjoong's gaze fixed on the notice board, now littered with doodles, silly notes, and questionable "decorations." With a purposeful nod, he crossed his arms and cleared his throat, catching the attention of the Gryffindors lounging around the common room. "Forget the frogs then. How many times have I told you all not to vandalise the notice board with your nonsense? It's used solely for—"

"For important announcements. Yes, we get it," piped up a cheeky third-year, eyes glinting with mischief. "But there are no announcements at the moment, so is it really so bad if we, y'know, decorate a little?"

And there it was again—the quick responses that left him speechless every time. Hongjoong tried to keep his expression stern, but a tiny part of him could almost see their point. Was it so bad to have a bit of fun? No, he reminded himself, that's not the point. But as he felt his resolve waver, he knew a miracle wasn't going to happen today. Why couldn't he be both firm and likeable, just like—

"Oh, so you want to test if it's bad?" your voice cut through, sharp but calm, as you stepped down from the spiral staircase. You'd been listening long enough to hear their usual defiance, and you were not about to let them undermine your boyfriend's authority. "How about we invite the professors to take a look at your 'artwork' and see how much they'd appreciate it, hm?"

Like you.

Hongjoong released a breath he hadn't realised he was holding, grateful for your support. You, with your knack for balancing authority and approachability, were everything he wished he could be as a prefect. If he could just learn how to be firm, like you, maybe Gryffindor's antics would finally come under control.

"You heard her," he added, finding a bit of confidence again as he nodded in agreement. "Clean it up. Now."

The students exchanged glances, sighing as they reluctantly began peeling off the doodles. He couldn't help but grin a little as he glanced your way.

"Thanks, babe," he mouthed.

You shook your head, smiling as you nodded toward the remaining Gryffindors lounging around. "I'm heading to the Great Hall first. I'll leave it to you to get everyone to breakfast on time, Joong. Think you can handle it?"

Hongjoong nodded enthusiastically, eager to make you proud. "You bet. They're going to see a whole new Prefect Kim this year," he declared confidently.

You laughed, both amused and a bit sceptical. He'd nearly caved to their antics just moments ago, but that was part of his charm. You loved how different he was from you—how he helped you loosen up when you were too serious, just as you helped him stay firm when he got a little too lenient. Together, you two were like yin and yang, balanced and perfectly matched, as everyone in the house always teased.

Squeezing his hand, you gave him a playful smile. "Show 'em, tiger," you winked before turning to leave, catching a glimpse of his cheeks turning pink.

The moment you were out of sight, the common room burst into whistles and smirks around him. Snapping out of his trance, your boyfriend rolled his eyes, trying to keep his composure.

"Alright, folks," he called out, clapping his hands. "You heard my girl. Let's cooperate for once and head to the Great Hall on time—don't make me disappoint her!"

The Gryffindors grinned, shuffling toward the door without a fuss, eager to play along. He smirked, pleased with their obedience whenever you were mentioned. Maybe he'd always need your presence to keep this difficult crowd in line, but he didn't mind at all. He knew they didn't have to fear him for him to be a good prefect. Deep down, he knew they all adored him, and he was pretty sure that, rule-breaking aside, they wouldn't truly make things difficult for him. They just loved teasing him—because, honestly, he might just be their favourite prefect.

Seonghwa ↠ Hufflepuff

The Goody Two Shoes and Teacher's Pet

"Oh, Seonghwa, my boy! What brings you here on a weekend? Shouldn't you be off enjoying Hogsmeade with your girlfriend?" Professor Sprout asked, pleasantly surprised as her star student stepped into the greenhouse, notebook in hand. The seventh-year smiled brightly, giving her a respectful nod before approaching.

"Good afternoon, Professor! I just came by to check on my mandrake—I'm determined to cultivate one to maturity for my latest Restorative Draught. And, uh… my girlfriend, she'll be here to join me soon," he added, rubbing the back of his neck, cheeks turning pink at the mention of you.

Professor Sprout's expression softened, a smile touching her lips. "You're too hard working for your own good, both of you," she gently chided, pride swelling as she glanced at the Hufflepuff sigil pinned proudly on his denim jacket. Even on a day when house representation wasn't required, Park Seonghwa wore his Hufflepuff loyalty openly, reminding everyone where his heart belonged. She knew he had a bright future ahead, and if she were to ever consider early retirement, he would be her top choice to take over as the next Herbology professor.

As if on cue, you pushed open the greenhouse doors and stepped inside. "Hwa, are you here already?" you called, glancing around before your eyes landed on your boyfriend and Professor Sprout.

Seonghwa, who'd been focused on his mandrake, looked up at the sound of your voice, a soft smile lighting up his face. In the presence of authority, he resisted the urge to rush over and hug you, his restraint both endearing and unmistakable. You bit back a laugh, amused by his adorable attempt at composure.

"Oh! Good afternoon, Professor!" you greeted, nodding respectfully. "Are we disturbing you? We can come another day if you need the greenhouse for your work."

She smiled warmly, waving off your concern. "Not at all, dearie. I was just on my way out. You two enjoy your little date," she added with a knowing wink. "And if you're in the mood for a treat, there are some extra Every Flavour Beans on the top shelf—please help yourselves."

"Thank you, Professor!" you and Seonghwa chimed in unison, exchanging a look of warmth and shared gratitude. As the elderly woman left, he gently took your hand, pulling you close enough to place a soft kiss on your forehead. You leaned into him with a contented sigh. "How embarrassing—now she's certain we're dating," you murmured, unable to hide your own smile.

He chuckled, his eyes dancing with affection. "Is that such a terrible thing, love? Maybe it's time the whole world knows you're mine."

You gasped in mock scandal, playfully nudging his shoulder. "How improper," you laughed, but a blush crept into your cheeks. Though you'd never formally announced your relationship, it was hardly a secret—everyone must have guessed by now with all the time you spent together. But for the sake of his reputation as the model student, you'd both kept things understated, not feeling the need to broadcast your love. Now, though, there was a new spark in his eyes, a hint of the Slytherin heritage running through his veins, as if he suddenly wanted the world to see what his heart had always known.

Seonghwa, after all, was the first Hufflepuff in a long line of Ravenclaws and Slytherins—a surprise his family hadn't quite anticipated. But their surprise had never bothered him. Instead, it had only strengthened his resolve to prove that Hufflepuff was as noble and worthy as any other house. Consistently at the top of his class in Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures, he'd gained the admiration of professors for his quiet dedication and high moral standards. Always the first to lend a hand to new students or submit his assignments, he was as dependable as they came.

Yet as much as he wanted to honour his house and his achievements, his heart now longed for something deeper. For the first time, he wanted his family—and everyone else—to see you, the one who had believed in him through every challenge and celebrated every victory, who had loved him exactly as he was. He knew that letting you into his life so openly would be the proudest badge he could ever wear.

"So," he began, biting his lip as he shifted his focus from the mandrake to you, who was busily jotting down notes about its latest growth. "Should we spend some time in Hogsmeade after this?" His voice was soft, almost hesitant, and your eyes widened slightly, your actions faltering as you locked gazes with him.

"You're joking, right? All our friends are there—" you started, but he shook his head, his expression earnest. "I'm serious, love."

The weight of his words sank in, and you realised he wasn't joking at all. A rush of emotions washed over you. "I... I don't know why it took me so long, but I don't want to hide my feelings for you anymore. I want to openly show my affection and be like every other couple in school. It's already our seventh year, and we haven't even been on a proper date. Can we make this the first of many more? Would you like to... go on a date with me?"

Placing your pen down, you blinked, your heart racing at his sincere proposal. This was a big step. Once the truth was out in the open, there would be no turning back—everyone, including his family, would know about you two. But as you looked into his eyes, you felt a rush of warmth. If he was ready for it, then so were you. You knew he would always protect you, no matter what.

With a shy smile, you nodded, feeling butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "Thought you'd never ask."

His face broke into a radiant grin, and the world around you seemed to melt away. Seonghwa stepped closer, allowing your head to rest against his shoulder, enveloped in the warmth of his presence like a cosy blanket. "I can't wait," he murmured softly.

"Me too," you replied, a wave of excitement bubbling in your chest.

In that greenhouse, surrounded by vibrant plants and warm sunlight, you both felt the first tender blooms of something beautiful—a love that was finally ready to thrive in the open, with all the joy and light that came with it.

Yunho ↠ Hufflepuff

The Popular Triwizard Champion

"Well? Have you managed to figure out the next task, golden boy?"

Yunho's head snapped around at the sound of your voice, his wide eyes betraying his surprise. Before he could respond, a few stray water droplets from his damp hair splashed onto you, drawing a squeal from your lips.

"Oh no! Angel, I'm so sorry!" he stammered, hastily brushing at your sleeve, his genuine concern making you laugh. He held the golden egg tightly, now safely shut after his latest round of inspections. "But seriously, what are you doing here? You'll be in trouble if anyone finds you sneaking into the prefect's bathroom!"

You snorted, though your heart melted at the way his brows knitted with worry. "Well, I could say the same for you, Yuyu. You're not a prefect either," you quipped with a grin.

He chuckled, the sound echoing in the steamy room as he swam closer to where you sat at the edge of the bath, your legs lazily dangling in the water. Gently, he set the golden egg beside you, then rested his arms on your thighs, gazing up at you with a playful smirk.

"The difference is, I'm a Triwizard Champion," he teased, his grin widening, "and you're not."

Rolling your eyes, you booped his nose with a finger, earning a soft laugh from him. "True, I'm not," you replied, sticking your tongue out cheekily. "But I am your girlfriend, so that grants me a special privilege, doesn't it?"

Yunho's gaze softened as he beamed up at you, water glistening on his face like tiny jewels. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice warm and affectionate. "It definitely does."

With a tender smile, you reached out to brush the water from his face, gently pushing his damp hair back from his eyes. Your heart skipped a beat when he instinctively leaned into your touch, his warmth grounding you despite the growing tension in your chest.

"You haven't answered me yet," you reminded him softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Have you figured out the answer to the second task?"

He nodded, his hand lifting to cover yours on his cheek, holding it in place as though it anchored him. He gave your fingers a soft, reassuring squeeze. "I have," he murmured, his gaze meeting yours with a quiet intensity. "But... I don't want you to freak out. Everything's going to be okay, I promise."

Despite his comforting tone, the knot in your stomach tightened. You tried to mask it with a cheeky smile, nudging him lightly with your foot in the water. "Suuure, Yuyu. I totally believe you when you say these tasks will get easier. I mean, it's not like the first one involved dragons or anything."

Your boyfriend sighed, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. You knew he was thinking about the moment his name had been announced as the Hogwarts champion—the wave of fear that had gripped you as the Great Hall erupted in cheers.

He had submitted his name on a whim, more as a joke than anything. He hadn't thought for a second he'd actually be chosen. But of course, you should've known better. He was Jung Yunho—the school's golden boy. Everyone adored him, from his endless optimism to his natural charm. He could light up any room he walked into and never turned away anyone in need. His wild card selection had shocked everyone, but he had embraced it with the same unshakable enthusiasm he brought to everything in life.

For him, the Triwizard Tournament was an adventure, a chance to make memories and new friends. For you, it was a constant worry. You knew the dangers far too well, and it terrified you. Still, when he had emerged victorious after the first task, his joy had been contagious, and you told yourself you had to let your fear go. You couldn't hold him back from greatness. He needed your support, and you were determined to be the girlfriend he deserved.

Leaning forward, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips, hoping it would reassure him as much as it did you. "Alright," you whispered, brushing your thumb along his jaw. "So tell me. What's the second task?"

Before you could pull away, he held onto you, wrapping an arm around your waist and resting his forehead against yours. His voice softened, steady but laced with a vulnerability he rarely showed.

"The Black Lake," he said quietly. "I... I have a feeling I'm going to need you to get through this task."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but the conviction in his eyes made you hold your ground. Whatever this task demanded, you knew one thing for sure: you'd face it together.

And his predictions couldn't have been more accurate—he and the champions from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons had an hour to retrieve something that had been stolen from them from the merpeople's village beneath the Black Lake.

The lake was eerily silent, its surface shimmering under the overcast sky as Yunho broke through the water, gasping for air. His strong arms cradled you protectively, his chest rising and falling in rapid bursts. The tension that had gripped him since the start of the task finally began to ease now that you were safe in his embrace.

You coughed violently, expelling the icy water from your lungs, your breaths coming in sharp, shallow bursts. The fragments of what had happened began piecing themselves together in your mind—the haunting stillness of the underwater village, the muffled echo of water all around, and your boyfriend's words from the prefect's bathroom resurfacing with a jarring clarity: "I have a feeling I'm going to need you to get through this task."

He had been right.

The task wasn't just about retrieving an object of value—it was about recovering the most precious thing stolen from them.

For Yunho, that had been you.

"Oh thank god, you're alright," he murmured, his voice thick with relief as he guided you onto the shore. The cheers and applause from the crowd were a distant hum in the background, drowned out by the pounding of his heart. Grabbing a towel, he draped it over your shoulders, enveloping you in its warmth before pulling you close. His arms wrapped around you securely, as though anchoring you back to him and shielding you from the chill that clung to the air.

You pressed your forehead against his shoulder, his familiar scent grounding you amidst the chaos of the moment. Despite the lingering cold, a soft smile crept onto your lips. Your voice, though weak, carried an unwavering sincerity. "How could I not be? You'll always save me… my hero."

His grip on you tightened at your words, his heart swelling with emotion as he buried his face in your hair. "Always," he whispered, his voice steady but laced with the weight of his promise. "Now I understand how hard it is for you to worry about me. I promise I'll make it out alive, every time—for you."

The announcement of his second-place finish barely registered. Everything seemed insignificant in the face of what truly mattered. All that filled his mind was the undeniable fact that you were safe, right here in his arms—the one person he cared for most.

Yeosang ↠ Ravenclaw

The Annoying Ace

"Hey, Kang! What'd you get for Potions? There's no way you aced it this time—it was brutal, and you barely studied before the test," a fellow Ravenclaw called out, pulling Yeosang from his thoughts. He glanced up, a small, nonchalant smile gracing his lips as he held up his graded paper. "You're right, it was tough. I only got an A- this time."

The room fell silent. His classmates stared at him, their jaws nearly hitting the floor. Was he serious? Most of the class had barely scraped by, even after endless hours of revision. Seventh-year Potions was no joke, filled with the most complex and challenging formulas known to the wizarding world.

"Only an A-? Are you kidding me? Did you bribe the professor or something?" someone blurted out, their voice tinged with disbelief.

You, seated next to your boyfriend, shot them a sharp glare. "Say that again in front of Professor Slughorn. I dare you," you retorted, crossing your arms.

The student huffed indignantly, muttering under their breath. "Whatever. You probably cheated with Felix Felicis or something."

Before you could unleash another scathing comeback, Yeosang gently placed a hand on your shoulder, his calm demeanour soothing your rising temper. His ever-composed smile didn't waver as he addressed the accusation. "Well," he began, his voice light but laced with quiet confidence, "if we were skilled enough to brew the Liquid Luck flawlessly and effectively, wouldn't that alone prove we deserve our grades?"

The remark landed with perfect precision, leaving everyone speechless. They knew he had a point. Brewing the luck potion wasn't just difficult—it was borderline impossible for most, requiring six months of meticulous preparation and risking catastrophic failure if done even slightly wrong.

The room buzzed with unspoken thoughts. If you and Yeosang could pull off such a feat, would the Potions exam have been challenging for either of you?

Your lips quirked into a satisfied smile as you exchanged a glance with your boyfriend. That was just like him—always shutting down his doubters with quiet brilliance, never needing to raise his voice to prove his worth.

"Man, I really need to learn how to be as effortlessly cool as you," you teased, giving his shoulder a playful nudge as he led you by the hand out of the classroom and toward the courtyard for some fresh air.

He glanced at you, his usual relaxed grin softening into something fonder. "You're already the coolest person to me," he replied casually as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Your cheeks warmed instantly, and you lightly smacked his arm, looking away as you bit your lip to hide the spreading blush. Even now, you could hardly believe he had accepted your confession back then—and that he was now your boyfriend. To you, he had always seemed so distant, so untouchable, like a star out of reach.

That was, until the day he noticed you struggling with a potion after class and offered to help. You hadn't known it at the time, but that small moment of kindness would lead to something far greater.

Yeosang is that Ravenclaw—the one who always seems lost in his thoughts yet somehow aces every test with ease, charming every professor in the process. He's the envy of his classmates, who burn the midnight oil studying while he effortlessly secures perfect scores. His calm, almost ethereal demeanour only adds to the intrigue, making him a bit of a mystery to everyone around him.

No one can figure out how he manages to zone out during Potions lessons and still brew flawless draughts, but they're too in awe (and slightly frustrated) to ask. It's just him—an enigma wrapped in quiet confidence, and somehow, he was yours.

"But seriously, Yeo, have you actually managed to perfect your luck potion? Don't think I didn't notice Professor Slughorn sneaking glances your way. He really did trust you to brew some for him, didn't he?" you asked, leaning your head against his shoulder, fingers gently squeezing his where they were intertwined with yours.

He hummed softly, the sound vibrating against you as he rested his head atop yours. With a flick of his wand, he cast a subtle charm to deflect a stray prank from a group of cheeky Gryffindors playing with products from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. The spell stopped the flying object just before it could land anywhere near you. Your heart fluttered at his nonchalant protectiveness, and you couldn't help but notice the envious sighs from a few girls nearby.

"I'll answer that," he murmured, his tone teasing, "when you tell me how you managed to brew such a flawless Amortentia draught."

You blinked, lifting your head to meet his gaze. "The love potion? What are you talking about? I've never even tried to make one."

A small smile tugged at his lips, and he reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Are you sure about that?"

You furrowed your brows, your confusion deepening. "Yes, I'm sure," you replied, your tone laced with scepticism. But before you could press him further, he leaned in and stole a quick kiss, leaving you gasping softly in surprise. Your hand flew to your lips, cheeks aflame as you tried to process what just happened.

Yeosang chuckled at your flustered reaction, his arm slipping securely around your back as he guided you to keep walking. "Then explain how you managed to make me so hopelessly enamoured with you," he said, his voice low but teasing. "It's the only logical explanation for how smitten I am."

"Oh, obviously. That's the only logical explanation," you burst out laughing, playfully trying to push him away, but he held firm, his grip steady yet gentle.

He chuckled along with you, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. "Exactly, my love. You've clearly bewitched me, and I have no intention of breaking free."

"The feeling's mutual, my darling genius."

San ↠ Slytherin

The Intimidating Head Boy Who's Secretly a Softie

"Oh, come on, Pumpkin! When will you learn to leave the Monster Book of Monsters alone?!" San groaned in exasperation, his eyes following his mischievous cat as it darted around, narrowly avoiding the snapping Care of Magical Creatures textbook that was now chasing it across the yard. The naughty feline had somehow managed to unclasp the book—again. "Come here, you stubborn little thing!" he called, swooping in to scoop up the cat.

With practised ease, he approached the wild book, stroking its spine gently until it calmed and locked itself shut, just as Hagrid had taught. Of course, San was probably the only one who had actually paid attention to that particular lesson.

A dramatic gasp caught his attention, and he turned to find you standing nearby, a teasing grin plastered across your face.

"Well well, who would've thought? The scary and intimidating Choi San names his cat Pumpkin? And a cat, no less? I always pictured you with an owl or a crow. Guess you're a softie after all. Wait till the rest of the house finds out."

He rolled his eyes but smirked, settling back into his seat behind Hagrid's hut. "Go ahead and tell them, sweetheart. It's not like I asked anyone to see me as the 'mean and cold Slytherin.' If they want to believe that, then that's on them."

You chuckled and took a seat beside him, watching as he cooed at his cat and peppered it with kisses. "So, what's a big bad boy like you doing out here, hm?"

"Detention, obviously," he deadpanned, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Fits my reputation, doesn't it?"

You shook your head knowingly, the corner of your lips curling upward. "If that's what you're calling it, sure. But Hagrid told me you were out here for some extra lessons on Hippogriffs when I passed him earlier."

He feigned a pout, resting his chin on Pumpkin's head. "Damn, you caught me. There goes my big bad boy image. Boohoo."

You burst out laughing, unable to hold it in.

San had always been an enigma to those around him. With his sharp, commanding presence and role as Head Boy, he had a reputation for being unapproachable. First-years practically scrambled out of his way in the corridors. But those who dared get to know him soon discovered that beneath the piercing gaze and confident swagger was a playful, caring soul who adored magical creatures.

And you? You were supposedly his rival—his female counterpart, according to your peers. With your equally composed demeanour and role as Head Girl, it wasn't uncommon for people to pit the two of you against each other. But those who looked closer would've seen the truth: you were far from rivals. If anything, you were two halves of the same warm, hidden flame, especially when it came to each other.

"Well, I hope you don't mind me joining you on your little detention, Choi," you teased, leaning your head against his shoulder.

He hummed thoughtfully, nuzzling his head against yours. "On one condition."

"And what's that?" you glanced up at him.

He bit his lip, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Let me take you to Hogsmeade this weekend, Head Girl."

"Alright, alright. None of that in my class," Hagrid's booming voice cut through the moment, startling both of you as you quickly pulled apart, clearing your throats in unison.

San shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck while you tried—and failed—to suppress a laugh.

Hagrid folded his massive arms across his chest, his bushy eyebrows raised knowingly. "We're only doing this if you're both serious, okay? This isn't some fun little date idea."

You nodded earnestly, though the corners of your lips twitched with amusement. "Of course, Professor. We're serious about this."

But Hagrid wasn't done.

Turning his attention to the Head Boy, he added, "But please, do take her to Hogsmeade, lad. I've heard more than enough from you about how much you like her."

San's eyes widened, his cheeks instantly flushing a deep crimson. "H-Hagrid!" he stammered, his voice a pitch higher than usual.

You couldn't hold it in anymore, bursting into laughter as he glared at you half-heartedly. "Oh, you're never living this down," you teased, nudging his arm.

"I—uh—yes, sir," he mumbled, his voice barely audible as he stared down at the ground, clearly flustered.

The professor chuckled, giving a hearty clap to the young man's shoulder that nearly made him stumble. "That's what I like to hear, Choi. Now, back to work, both of you. Those Hippogriffs aren't going to train themselves."

As Hagrid lumbered away, you leaned closer to San, grinning. "So, how much do you like me, Choi San?"

He groaned, his hands covering his face. "Can we just focus on the Hippogriffs?"

"Not a chance," you replied smugly, your laughter ringing out as his ears turned an even brighter shade of red.

The journey back to the common room was filled with quiet comfort, but as you both stepped through the entrance, his demeanour shifted instantly. Gone was the flustered boy from earlier; in his place stood the stoic and commanding Head Boy, his sharp gaze sweeping over the lounging students.

"Keep it down," he said curtly to a group of rowdy second-years, his tone leaving no room for argument. They immediately quieted, murmuring apologies.

You bit back a smile, watching his transformation with newfound amusement. After seeing the playful, gentle side of him during the lesson with Hagrid, this intimidating persona of his now seemed more endearing than imposing. It was his way of keeping the chaos in check, and you couldn't help but admire how effortlessly he switched between the two sides of himself.

As you trailed behind him, snippets of hushed whispers reached your ears.

"Did they come back together?"

"Isn't that the Head Girl?"

"Are they… you know?"

You glanced at San and caught the slight gulp he tried to conceal, his stiff posture giving away his unease despite his poker face.

When you both reached the point where the dorms split, you turned to him, raising an eyebrow. He stood tall, keeping his expression neutral, though you could see the faintest flicker of nervousness in his eyes. The room fell silent, the curious gazes of your housemates fixed on the two of you.

You smirked, breaking the tension. "So, Hogsmeade this weekend, right?"

His eyes widened, and a soft gasp rippled through the common room. He cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure as he met your gaze. "You… accept?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, though the playful glint in your eyes betrayed your amusement. "Well, you did say I could only join you earlier if I agreed to this. Seeing as we've already finished the lesson, that clearly means I've accepted, no?"

For a moment, his carefully constructed mask faltered, replaced by a grin so wide and boyish that it made your heart skip a beat. He didn't care about the whispers anymore as he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to give yours a gentle squeeze.

"It's a date then, Head Girl."

You smiled back, your voice light but teasing as you replied, "Sounds good, Head Boy."

The room erupted into murmurs and low cheers as you turned and walked toward your dorm, feeling his gaze follow you until you disappeared from sight. If San had been worried about his reputation before, it was clear now that he didn't care.

Not when it came to you.

Mingi ↠ Ravenclaw

The Son of a Famous Wizard Scientist

"Going somewhere, Song?"

Mingi cursed under his breath, reluctantly pulling the invisibility cloak off his frame to face you. You sat casually in one of the Ravenclaw common room chairs, a book in hand and an amused smirk playing on your lips. He looked thoroughly defeated. "How do you always figure me out?"

You chuckled, closing your book and setting it aside as you straightened up. "It's not that hard with your lack of stealth. I feel the breeze every time you pass by. Honestly, the real mystery is how Filch hasn't caught you yet."

He crossed his arms with a huff, a pout forming on his lips. "Ugh, what's it gonna take for you to pretend you didn't see me? My dad cannot find out. Name your price."

You tapped your chin, standing to your full height and eyeing the Marauder's Map in his hands. "I want in on whatever you're up to."

His brows shot up in surprise. "You? But aren't you like... the model Ravenclaw? Goody two shoes, follows every rule, reads for fun? Why would you risk your squeaky-clean image for something like this?"

You shrugged, a mischievous glint in your eye. "Let's just say I'm curious about what the great wizard scientist's son is always sneaking off to do instead of, I don't know, living up to everyone's—and your father's—expectations."

He sighed in defeat, lifting his left arm to gesture for you to join him under the cloak. "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you. Just make sure you can keep up. And for Merlin's sake, please tell me your stealth skills are better than mine. You really don't want to run into Mrs. Norris."

"Trust me, I wouldn't dream of it," you replied, ducking under the cloak with him, your heart racing at the prospect of finally joining him on one of his adventures.

And so, that night marked the beginning of an unlikely yet thrilling partnership: you and Song Mingi, partners-in-crime navigating Hogwarts past curfew.

For someone as studious and rule-abiding as you, it was a surprising twist to find yourself sneaking through hidden passageways, clutching an invisibility cloak, and dodging prefects alongside someone like Mingi. But there was something irresistibly intriguing about him—the way he effortlessly balanced his rebellious streak with a sharp intellect, and how his lighthearted demeanour contrasted with the heavy expectations placed upon him.

You see, unlike your ordinary self, his life was all about finding his own path despite the pressures of his family name. As the son of a renowned wizarding scientist, expectations for him to follow in those illustrious footsteps were high. But Mingi? He wasn't interested in being defined by anyone else's legacy.

Sure, he had the smarts for it—his insights into magical theories often surprised you, even when they were thrown in casually during one of your late-night escapades. But instead of shouldering the weight of those expectations, he found joy in simply being himself. He explored magic for the sake of curiosity, not obligation.

Of course, it was hard for someone like him to truly fly under the radar. With his tall frame and infectious laugh, he had a knack for drawing attention no matter how much he tried to avoid it. He'd always play it off with an easy grin, though—effortlessly charming his way out of trouble (well, most of the time).

And now, here you were, walking beside him in the dead of night, laughing softly at his whispered commentary about the portraits on the walls. It was a side of him most people didn't see—carefree, thoughtful, and incredibly warm.

"Alright, where to next, partner?" you asked, barely containing your grin as you reached a fork in the corridor.

He glanced at the map, his finger tracing a path. "A secret stash of sweets hidden near the kitchens. Wanna check it out?"

"Only if you're willing to share," you teased, bumping his shoulder lightly.

He smirked, holding the cloak open as you ducked beneath it again. "Deal. But only because I need you to distract the house elves if we get caught."

With that, the two of you disappeared into the night, laughter echoing softly down the empty hallways. It was the start of a friendship, and perhaps something more that, against all odds, just worked.

On one of the slower days at school, the two of you lounged in the Great Hall, a wizard's chessboard between you. The usual hum of scattered conversations and the clinking of goblets provided a quiet backdrop as Mingi hunched over the board, his tall frame bent in concentration. His eyes darted between pieces, plotting his next move with a focus that made you smirk.

"I've got an idea," you said, leaning back with a teasing grin. "Whoever loses has to take on a dare during tonight's adventure."

His head shot up, a glimmer of intrigue lighting up his eyes. He grinned, his expression a mix of mischief and admiration for the rebellious streak you seemed to save just for him. "Oh, it's on."

The match stretched out with calculated moves and sly counters, both of you pouring focus into claiming victory. But when your queen finally cornered his king, you leaned back with a triumphant grin. "Checkmate," you declared, watching the realisation dawn on his face.

He groaned theatrically, throwing his head back. "Noooo!"

You laughed, folding your arms smugly. "Now, about that dare..."

He straightened in his seat, narrowing his eyes as he tried to guess your plan. "Alright, hit me with your worst."

A mischievous gleam danced in your eyes as you leaned forward and whispered, "Tonight, when we sneak out, you have to charm Moaning Myrtle with your best pickup lines."

His jaw dropped, his ears turning an amusing shade of red. "You want me to flirt with a ghost?!"

"That's the dare," you said, grinning wider.

He blinked at you in disbelief, then let out a booming laugh, shaking his head. "You're insane. But fine—a deal's a deal."

As the two of you packed up, you noticed a flicker of something softer in his gaze. He clearly enjoyed this side of you, the playful daring you didn't often let others see.

The night was quiet as you snuck through the dark hallways, huddled beneath the invisibility cloak. The close proximity made it impossible to ignore the way your shoulders brushed, or how you could feel his breath softly against your ear as he whispered directions. You tried to focus, but the warmth radiating from him and the faint smell of his cologne made it difficult.

He wasn't faring any better. His movements felt unusually cautious, his arm brushing against yours more often than necessary, his voice a little lower than usual when he whispered, "Careful where you step."

Ironically, it was his warning that broke your concentration. Your foot landed on something uneven, and before you could stop yourself, you tripped, sending a potted plant toppling from its perch.

The crash echoed loudly through the corridor. "What was that?!" Filch's voice screeched in the distance, sending panic shooting through you both.

"Move!" Mingi hissed, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the nearest room. The door creaked shut just as the school caretaker's hurried footsteps grew louder.

You realised, to your dismay, that the "room" was a cramped broom cupboard. The two of you were squished together in the small space, the invisibility cloak still draped awkwardly over your heads. Your breathing was ragged from the sudden sprint, and you both struggled to keep quiet as Filch's grumbling grew nearer.

"Stupid kids sneaking around… I'll catch them sooner or later," he muttered as his footsteps faded in the opposite direction.

Only when the sound of his boots disappeared entirely did you dare to speak. "We're safe now," you whispered.

"Yeah," Mingi murmured back, his voice quieter than usual.

That's when you noticed just how close you were. Your heart stuttered as you looked up, your nose grazing his. His dark eyes locked onto yours, and you could feel his breath, warm and shallow, mingling with your own. Neither of you moved, the air between you was charged and heavy.

He swallowed hard, his hand slowly brushing against yours beneath the cloak. "I know I lost the game," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "But... is it alright if I flirt with someone else tonight?"

Your breath caught, your thoughts spinning as he leaned in closer, his lips barely brushing yours.

"That depends on who it is," you whispered back, your voice shaky.

He smiled softly, his eyes flicking between yours and your lips. "You."

Your heart skipped a beat. Without thinking, your hand slid up to grip the collar of his shirt as you murmured, "Fine."

Then, closing the final distance, you pressed your lips to his. When you finally pulled away, the world felt different as you stayed close, foreheads touching. He let out a soft chuckle, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "Best dare I've ever lost."

You smiled. "Guess I'll have to keep challenging you then, Song."

"Guess you will," he whispered, leaning in for another kiss.

Wooyoung ↠ Gryffindor

The Talented Quidditch Beater

"Woo, you got it! That's my boy!"

The sound of your voice rang out across the pitch, instantly catching Wooyoung's attention. A grin lit up his face as he turned mid-flight on his Nimbus 2000, his eyes sparkling as they met yours.

"I'll make you proud, babe!" he called back, his tone brimming with confidence.

"Not if you can't keep your eyes on the game," his teammate—another Beater—shouted, swooping in just in time to deflect a bludger barreling toward him.

His eyes widened at the close call before a sheepish, boyish grin spread across his face. "Thanks, mate. That was a little too close!"

He turned his attention back to you, throwing you a playful wink and blowing a kiss in your direction. "Love you," he mouthed with a quick smirk, clearly revelling in the way your worried gaze softened into a smile.

And then, just like that, he was off again, zooming across the pitch like the fearless champ he was, ready to win not just for his team, but for the person cheering him on from the stands.

Pride swelled in your chest like a warm, unrelenting tide as you watched your boyfriend play. It was almost surreal to think about how far the two of you had come—especially since there was a time when you couldn't stand him.

Back then, Jung Wooyoung was everything you couldn't tolerate: loud, attention-seeking, and constantly wreaking havoc with his pranks. He was the popular Gryffindor Quidditch star with a magnetic grin, always surrounded by friends and admirers. Meanwhile, you were his polar opposite—a shy, studious student with no interest in shenanigans, focused solely on excelling in your studies and making your parents proud.

It all started when one of his pranks nearly ruined your Transfiguration assignment. Furious, you'd confronted him in front of half the common room, calling him reckless and immature. Wooyoung, never one to back down, had retaliated with a smirk, calling you boring and stiff. That marked the beginning of your rivalry—petty remarks, pointed glares, and intentionally getting on each other's nerves became routine.

But everything changed the day he overheard a group of Slytherins mocking you. Their cruel taunts about your Muggle heritage—and the word "Mudblood" slicing through the air—left you reeling. Before you could even muster a response, he stepped in, his usual playful demeanour replaced by something sharp and unyielding.

"What did you just say?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. The bullies faltered under his glare, and though they tried to brush it off, he didn't let them escape unscathed. He stood firm, defending you with a conviction that left you stunned.

From that day on, the dynamic between you shifted. He made it clear that no one was to mess with you—not even his own friends, who had occasionally targeted you with harmless pranks. In return, you stopped berating him for his antics, accepting that his mischief was simply part of who he was. Over time, you found yourself laughing at his jokes, and he discovered a softer side to you that few others had ever seen.

Years passed, and that fragile truce evolved into friendship. Somewhere along the way, the friendship blossomed into something deeper, something neither of you could ignore. And now, here you were, standing in the Gryffindor stands, cheering him on with every fibre of your being.

Only after being with him did you truly understand why so many adored him for his talent. On the pitch, he was in his element. As a Beater, he thrived on adrenaline, his bat swinging with precision as he sent a bludger hurtling toward the opposing team. He was a natural showman, hyping up the crowd with daring plays and cheeky winks. Though his mischievous nature was ever-present, he became fiercely competitive during matches, his focus unshakable when it came to leading his house to victory.

You smiled as he executed a flawless manoeuvre, his laughter echoing across the pitch when the crowd erupted into cheers. He was so different from the boy you had once disliked, yet so quintessentially the same. His charm, his energy, his ability to make everyone around him feel alive—it was impossible not to love him for it.

"Watch this, babe!" he called as he rocketed past the stands, his grin wide and unrestrained. He was a whirlwind of passion and joy, and he was yours. And somehow, you wouldn't have it any other way.

"Aaaand Gryffindor wins!"

The roar of the crowd filled the stadium as the Gryffindor Seeker triumphantly held up the golden snitch, the tiny wings glinting under the bright sun. Cheers echoed through the stands, Gryffindor flags waving wildly in celebration. You cheered, knowing that much of this victory was thanks to your boyfriend, who had spent the game clearing the path for his teammate with skilful swings of his bat.

Amid the chaos, Wooyoung's sharp eyes immediately sought you out. Despite the throng of screaming fans and his own teammates clamouring to celebrate, all he could see was you. Without hesitation, he veered his broom in your direction, ignoring the unmistakable warning glare from Professor McGonagall.

Hovering in front of you, he flashed his signature grin, his chest rising and falling from the adrenaline of the match. Before you could say a word, he leaned in and kissed you, his lips warm and slightly chapped from the cold wind. The crowd's cheers seemed to fade as you felt his smile against your own, your cheeks heating with the realisation of how public this display was.

When you pulled away, your voice was barely above a whisper. "That's enough, Woo. You don't want detention now, do you?"

He laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I wouldn't mind it if you were there too." With a wink, he flew off to join his team, leaving you blinking sheepishly under Professor McGonagall's sharp gaze.

You cleared your throat, attempting to smooth down your robes as you mumbled, "Sorry, Professor."

To your surprise, her expression softened, and she gestured for you to walk with her as the stands began to empty. "Don't be," she said, her voice measured but kind. "You're a good motivator for him. We appreciate it. I won't lie and say our victories haven't increased since you came into the picture."

Her words left you blushing furiously as you followed her down the steps. Did that mean even she shipped you and Wooyoung? The very thought had you hiding a bashful smile behind your scarf, the cheers of the Gryffindor team still ringing in your ears.

Jongho ↠ Slytherin

The Scary Prefect Who Commands Respect

"There he is! Shhh, keep it down!"

Your friends scrambled to settle into their seats, hastily lowering their voices and pretending to focus on the books in front of them. You followed their lead, keeping your head down as the most intimidating prefect of Slytherin entered the library. Choi Jongho's very name was enough to make most students sit up straight, and his imposing presence only amplified that effect. His silence carried more weight than words ever could, commanding obedience and respect effortlessly.

You swallowed hard, trying to concentrate on the text in front of you, but your focus wavered the moment his footsteps stopped—right beside you. Your heart raced as you eyed his polished shoes, unsure if you'd done something wrong. Too nervous to meet his gaze, you froze in place, waiting for whatever came next.

"Here. I think you dropped this," he said, his voice low yet unexpectedly warm.

Your eyes widened at the gentle tone, and you glanced up to see him holding out your late father's pocket watch. The faintest trace of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips—so fleeting you wondered if you'd imagined it.

"O-oh, thank you," you stammered, taking the cherished item from him. A spark shot through you when your fingers brushed against his, leaving your heart fluttering in a way you hadn't anticipated.

"You're welcome," he replied simply, his voice kind yet measured, before continuing on his patrol.

As you watched him walk away, a realisation settled in your mind—perhaps he wasn't as fearsome as everyone claimed.

Jongho's reputation was well-earned. As a Slytherin prefect, he didn't need to raise his voice to maintain order. A single stern look was enough to make any student think twice about misbehaving, and his word was as final as it was rare. Yet, those who truly knew him understood there was more to him than his intimidating exterior. Beneath the cool, composed demeanour was a steadfast friend with a laugh that could shatter his usual seriousness in an instant.

And soon, you would become one of the few to witness that softer side of him—though, for now, you had no idea what lay ahead.

It was on a particularly eerie evening that you would come to learn the truth. The air hung heavy with an unsettling stillness as you wandered along the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, seeking solitude to clear your mind after a gruelling week. The low-hanging clouds cloaked the forest in shadows, and the quiet seemed almost too oppressive.

But peace was the last thing you found.

A low, menacing growl rippled through the trees, stopping you dead in your tracks. Your breath caught as you turned, your wand trembling in your hand, to face a pair of glowing eyes cutting through the darkness.

A werewolf.

Your heart pounded wildly as the creature advanced, its snarling lips curling back to reveal rows of sharp teeth. Panic seized you. You tried to cast a spell, but fear made your movements clumsy, and the incantation faltered on your tongue. The werewolf snarled again, its deadly intent unmistakable.

You were sure you were doomed.

Suddenly, a thunderous roar shattered the tense silence, startling both you and the beast. From the shadows emerged a massive bear, its fur bristling and eyes blazing with an otherworldly fury. The bear wasted no time, charging at the werewolf with raw power and unmatched ferocity.

Their clash was brutal and swift, the werewolf no match for the bear's strength and determination. Before long, the defeated creature limped off into the safety of the forest, leaving you frozen in place, trembling from head to toe.

The bear turned its attention to you, its intelligent gaze locking onto yours. Despite your fear, there was something strangely familiar in the way it looked at you—almost protective.

And then, to your utter disbelief, the bear began to shift. Its enormous form shrank, fur receding as its features morphed into something distinctly human. In a matter of moments, you found yourself staring at Choi Jongho, his sharp eyes unwavering as they met yours.

"You…" The word barely escaped your lips, your voice a mere whisper. "You're an animagus?"

His jaw tightened briefly before he nodded. "Yes," he admitted, his tone steady but quiet.

You blinked, your mind racing to process what you had just witnessed. It wasn't just the transformation that left you reeling—it was the way he had risked himself to save you. "Why didn't you tell anyone?" you finally managed.

He let out a soft sigh, running a hand through his hair. For the first time, you saw the stoic facade crack, revealing something raw beneath. "People already think I'm intimidating enough," he said, his voice laced with vulnerability. "If they knew I could turn into a bear, they'd see me as a monster. Even if I chose this form to protect, not harm."

Your chest tightened at his words, at the loneliness he must have carried. His stern demeanour suddenly made sense—it was a shield, a way to keep others from seeing the parts of himself he feared they wouldn't understand.

"But it's not a bad thing," you said softly, taking a step closer. "You became an animagus for a noble reason. That says more about who you are than anything else."

His gaze softened, the hard lines of his face easing just slightly. "I appreciate that," he murmured. "But not everyone would see it the same way. People fear what they don't understand."

For the first time, you saw through the intimidating exterior everyone else feared. Beneath it all, he was just someone who cared deeply, someone who bore the weight of his secrets quietly for the sake of those around him.

"Thank you for saving me," you said earnestly, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you. "Your secret's safe with me. I promise."

He nodded, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "It's my pleasure," he replied, his tone warm yet reserved. "Now, you should get back. It's not safe out here."

"And you?"

"I'll make sure the forest is clear," he assured you, his protective instincts shining through. "Go. I'll be right behind you."

As you made your way back to the castle, your mind was consumed with thoughts of Jongho. The boy who had just saved your life was so much more than the fearsome prefect everyone believed him to be. And now, you carried a piece of his truth, a secret that revealed a depth to him you never would have imagined.

From then on, something shifted.

You became one of the few who dared to hold his gaze, the rare recipient of his fleeting smiles. Where others saw the intimidating Slytherin prefect, you saw the quiet strength and vulnerability he kept hidden beneath the surface. And nothing shocked people more than seeing him sit next to you at breakfast in the Great Hall.

Whispers rippled through the tables, curious and incredulous alike. Choi Jongho, the stoic and fearsome prefect, sitting with someone? A girl? The novelty was enough to turn heads, but what truly caught people's attention was the way he looked at you.

There was something unmistakable in his eyes—a quiet affection, soft and unguarded, as if your presence unravelled the walls he so carefully maintained.

He glanced over at you as you finished your meal, his expression relaxed yet tinged with curiosity. "Where are you headed after this?" he asked, his tone casual but attentive.

You wiped your hands with a napkin, smiling up at him. "The Duelling Club."

His eyebrows rose in mild surprise. "The Duelling Club? But why?"

You bit back a laugh at his incredulity, placing your fork down with an amused shake of your head. "Because someone with a very admirable trait has inspired me," you said, your voice warm with sincerity. "To be stronger, to protect those around me too."

The words caught him off guard, and you watched as his usual composure faltered. He blinked, a faint flush creeping up his neck and into his cheeks. The sight was endearing, a rare glimpse of boyishness in the otherwise composed prefect.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, reaching for his goblet of pumpkin juice and taking a long sip as if it might steady him. Setting it down, he muttered softly, "You don't have to." His eyes flickered to yours, vulnerable but earnest. "You'll always have me."

Your chest warmed at his words, his quiet promise resonating deeply. He might have been the boy feared by many, but to you, he was simply someone who cared more deeply than he let on.

You leaned forward slightly, a teasing smile playing on your lips. "I know," you said, your voice gentle but firm. "But it doesn't hurt to know how to hold my own, does it?"

He exhaled a quiet chuckle, the corner of his lips curving upward in a rare but genuine smile. "Fair enough," he conceded, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer before turning back to his plate. "But I'm coming with."

Any fellow Potterheads here? Humour this poor author and tell me about your Hogwarts house, your favourite Harry Potter book/movie as well as your favourite character! Most importantly, let me know if you agree with the houses I've sorted the members into!

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All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[moonstruckme]

Hey girl 💖 Would love a comfort fic with James or poly!Marauders after r had a really bad day? Just cuddles and comforting words. Sure most of us need it right now 💖

Thanks for requesting my love <3 I did try to make this seem like it could just be about any bad day but for my US babes and anyone else that's going to be affected by the election, I really hope you're doing okay and I hope we're all okay over the next few years. Even if we don't all have a James to comfort us, we can still be there for each other <3

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 607 words

You’re in bed when James finishes brushing his teeth. He can see your shoulders shaking underneath the covers. 

His chest aches as he goes to you. It’s not the first time you’ve cried today and it probably won’t be the last for a while, all your hurt and anger and grief compounding on you as time goes on. James gets into bed and twines his arms around your middle, pressing his nose into your warm cheek. 

“It’s going to be okay,” he murmurs. 

Your sobs worsen, and you turn, face to his chest and arms reaching around him with an unthinking neediness. You don’t believe him. 

“It is.” He kisses the top of your head firmly, hugging you closer. You seem like you need a bit of solidity right now. “You’ll be alright, sweet girl. I’ve got you.” 

James lets you cry. Your sniffles grow thick, James’ chest under your face wet with tears and snot. He wonders if your head hurts from how much you’ve wept today, makes a mental note to get you some water in the morning if he can’t manage it tonight. Your whole body shakes with deep, aching sobs. 

“I’m sorry,” you say after a while, words jolting. “I can’t—I keep thinking in circles.” 

“Baby, it’s okay.” James rubs your back. He hates to see you upset, but he wouldn’t begrudge you it. You’ve had a day. As much as he wishes he never had to see you cry, he feels grateful that you’d do it with him. “It’s okay to be sad for a little while.” 

“I know. I know, but—” Another series of sobs jostles their way out of you, painful sounding. Your voice quiets to a tight whisper. “I just can’t stop.” 

James swallows the blockage in his own throat, making big, sweeping circles over your back. “Do you want a little distraction?” he offers. 

You nod into his chest. 

“Okay.” He thinks for a second. “Well, tomorrow, I thought we might go to the bookstore if you’re feeling up to it.” He pauses, waiting to see if this is what you want. When you don’t make a sound he continues. “We could make a day of it. There’s that Thai place you like nearby, so maybe we grab some takeaway, sit and read in the park…” You make a snuffling sound against his chest, and James gives you a squeeze. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Your voice is stuffy and sad, but calmer. “That sounds nice.” 

“I glanced at the weather report earlier.” He drops a kiss on your head. It coaxes you into looking up at him. Your eyes are wet and puffy, but James smiles at you, pinching your nose clean gently. “It’s supposed to be nice out. We’ll probably need our coats, but still, not too bad. You could probably break out those new socks you got.” 

You smile wobbily. “It feels like sort of a silly thing to be excited about now,” you say softly, “socks.” 

“That’s what I love about you, though.” James holds your face and gives in to kissing wherever the urge strikes him, your skin warm and tacky. “You’re always finding things to be excited about, that make you happy. I love that. It’s the little things, right?” 

You sniffle. You’re far from happy now, but you’re settling. “I guess.” 

“It’s nice when it’s the big things too, of course,” he concedes, “but for tomorrow I can still get my girl a book and a takeaway. Right? Okay?” 

“Yeah.” You kiss him, salt on both of your lips. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, Jamie.” 

“You’ll be okay,” he promises you again. “I’ve always got you.”

[madamechrissy]

Keep This Low Key

💜 Pairings: Choso x Fem reader- Rating: Explicit- MDNI

💜 Contents/Warnings: Choso has a tongue ring for reasons... oh and a dick piercing for other reasons. In this chapter, blow jobs, fingering, cunnilingus, explicit sex, semi public sex, lots of confusion, jealousy happening, friends w/benefits

💜 Word Count: this chap - 10.6k

💜 Summary: You have been Choso's best friend for years, and one night he has a date with Yuki, his girlfriend, while you have a date with Ino, your boyfriend, only for them both to break up with you at the same time! You all think of calling each other, but run right into each other. Choso brings you home since you didn't even have your car, and you two are crying over a couple beers and a silly movie, only to have a sudden idea. Why not say fuck dating, fuck heartbreak, and just fuck each other?

No drama, no mess, no upset, and you two are such good friends, nothing can go wrong, right? The only agreement is no feelings, and if you all find a s/o, you'll end things. But the moment Choso opens his heart to you, and the moment you start falling, things get messy, as you realize he's the best you've had, and you're falling hard. Will you all stay friends, become more, or will everything blow up?

✨️Comments and reblogs appreciated ✨️

Chapter One 💜 Masterlist 💜 Playlist 💜

Chapter Two

Your POV

You wake up the next morning in a strong pair of arms, with a thigh pressed up between your thighs, you flush when you realize where you were, in your best friend’s arms. Arms the squeeze you just a little tighter, his breath hot on your neck, tickling you and making you tremble, then he shifts his thigh, and fuck it’s pressed even more, and you’re arching up for it without thinking.

He moans softly, you feel his long dark lashes fluttering against your cheek, you are tense against him. “Mmm, g’morning.” He mumbles, burying his head back in the crook of your neck.

“G’morning, Cho.” You say softly, he pulls you even closer now, pecking little kisses down your neck, it feels way too good, too natural.

Not once had you felt like this.

Was it because you’ve known him like the back of your hand forever? Possibly, not having to worry if you look good, if you’re done up enough, to just be a little bit of a mess next to him was so comfortable. But also, it didn’t feel odd in his arms, you’d knocked right out, and now you feel that same thrill you did last night, remembering the pleasure he gave you.

You’re blushing now, cheeks hot, vivid images of his dark hair between your thighs, those violet eyes as his tongue ring had done wicked things. You’re getting wet just thinking of it, and he tenses himself behind you, arm tightening, his breath catching in his throat. You’re sure he can tell, making you embarrassed.

“You’re so hot there.” He whispers, and you cry out just a bit when he presses up once more, your hand clutches the pillow under it tightly.

“I’m sorry, I think I’m…”

“Sorry, for what? Being sexy.” Fuck you adore your best friend, his kisses against your neck turning hotter, his mouth opening, tongue lapping at you, making you shiver with desire, coursing down your body. You shift, and he moans again. “Fuck.”

“Sorry!” You cover your face, and he gently pulls your hand down, turning your face to look at him.

“Stop apologizing. Do you want me to get her off again?”

“Fuck, yes. But I wanna do things to you.”

“You can get me later.” He says, pressing up once more, and now you’re shamelessly rubbing on his thigh. “Oh my god, fuck.”

“Choso…” You whisper, eyes dropping to his lips, glossy as he licks them slowly, a big hand pressing against your tummy.

“Let me get you off, angel.” You shake your head, making him smile a bit, running his fingers down your tummy, rolling against your clit now, pressing his thigh up further, you’re bare aside from his big shirt, dripping down his sweats. “Oh my god, you feel so good, you’re this wet for me?”

“Shush, supposed to be… friends…”

“Friends who fuck, hmm?” You nod weakly, eyes fluttering shut at his gentle circles, as you keep grinding on his thigh helplessly. “So then I can talk to you like that, if you want.”

“I want.” Is all you manage, getting wetter and wetter as your hips move, his fingers hitting the perfect rhythm, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Then let me tell you how good you feel against me.” He pulls his thigh back then, you whine out at the loss. “Aw, it’s okay, I’ve got you.” He murmurs, so fucking sexy, your silly Cho Bear, it wrecks your mind.

Now he is pressing his cock against your back, you feel how hard and thick he is, when he grabs a thigh and brings it high over his leg, and plunges two fingers in your pussy now. You’re pouring more all over his fingers, weakly crying out at how good it feels, reaching a hand back to grip his hair, pulling his lips to yours as you turn your head back to him.

He moans, still fingering you so good you can’t stand it, you want so much more, especially that thick cock against you, fuck it felt so big, you ache to see it, to feel it. Choso’s tongue ring hits your own tongue, clicking gently against your teeth, as you suck on it playfully, earning more of his moans, more of his fingers.

“Close, Cho… m’close.” You whisper, and he looks at you with those dilated eyes, fingerfucking you faster, scissoring his fingers in and out, you’re so close you shatter at it, and he’s watching as your eyes roll back, as your mouth is open, you think you must look so dumb-

“Oh, you’re so pretty.” He says instead, and you begin to climax, it washes all over your body, you’re pulsing around his long fingers now, and he eases, slipping them out to toy with your clit, making you jerk.

“Sensitive.” Your voice is faint, you’re reaching behind you to find him, earning his own moan, his eyes fluttering shut, he keeps torturing your clit, until you’re close again, this time overstimulated. “Do you um, wanna fuck? Or want me to suck you?”

“Both, and add wanna eat you again.” You giggle breathlessly.

“You’re a freak, Cho Bear.”

“You really haven’t seen much freak yet, angel. But you’re so cute and nervous, I love you like this.” He brings his fingers to your lips, and you are sucking yourself off of him, stroking him over his sweats as he bucks into your palm. “You sure you wanna have sex today, we can wait. I don’t mind.”

“We’re friends with benefits, Cho.”

“Benefits are you looking pretty in my arms.” You melt then, fuck he’s perfect, and fuck Yuki is a fool.

“Choso you’re gonna snatch someone up so quick, perfect ass.”

“And look at you.”

“A hot mess.” He chuckles, shaking his head, you turn then, body still reacting to his touch, to the pleasure he gave you, you’ve got him on his back now, your hair falling half out of your loose ponytail. He smiles, gently shaking it out, running his hand through it.

He’s seen you a million times in this state, but somehow you find yourself worrying a bit, what does he think, Yuki was always so put together…

“You’re so pretty in the morning. Even with this mess.” He teases, pulling your hair softly, and watching you cry out hungrily, tattooed hands sliding down your arms now, before he’s reaching for that shirt, pulling it flush against your body.

“Are you ready for my amazing skills?” You tease, trying to shove down the feeling of being so into him, of loving everything about this too much already.

“I’m ready, show me what you got.”

“As a friend.”

He snorts. “Best friend. Oh… mmm…” He lets out this soft cry when you’re sliding down his sweats, and he’s so thick, his cock is so sexy it alone has you pulsing all over again. Especially when you see it.

“Cho… do you have…”

“Oh, it won’t hurt you, promise.” He says softly, when you see there is a piercing on the underside of his cock, right under his tip, two silver balls on either side of a barbell. You’re flustered as you study it, and Choso gets flustered as you do. “Is it… like weird or-”

“No, no! It’s really hot. Um… just didn’t know… they pierced these? Did it hurt at all?”

“No, it won’t hurt if you play with it either, don’t worry.” He gently takes your hand, putting it on it now, you feel your tummy clenching as you touch it, the skin thin over the piercing, and he moans softly.

“Does it feel good there?” He nods eagerly, urging you on as you study him, the room is dimly lit by the morning sun peeking through the blinds, casting a warm glow over Choso’s toned body. He’s gorgeous as fuck you think, especially the little blush on his cheeks when you stroke him once softly, tentatively.

“Tell me what you like, Cho bear. Like I did.” You tease, your hands are shaking slightly as you wrap your fingers around his thickness, stroking him gently, feeling him thicken.

“I would like you kissing me anywhere.” He says then, his big hands sliding up your shirt, sliding against your bare skin, making your breath catch. “I’d also love to see your pretty body again.”

“Oh yeah?” You giggle, sighing. “I’m not very sexy.”

“I disagree.”

“I’m awkward, Cho. But here.” You go to pull up his shirt now, letting it slide up off your head, falling to the bed next to you, and he eagerly grips your breasts, squishing them before you pull away. “Let me kiss you all over then.”

“Please.” His breathy reply urges you on, and he exhales as you kiss down his neck, your mouth tracing the line of his collarbone, down his chest, feeling the heat of his skin, smelling the heady scent of him. Something warm and intoxicating. He’s watching you, eyes full of desire, when you kiss a flat brown nipple his hands dig into your hair. “Sorry…”

“Cho, I don’t mind.” You say with a little smile, kissing down his chest, your hands sliding back down, one finding his cock again, as you kiss further and further, feeling the flutter of nerves as you do. You’d done this before, but you wanna do such a good job, Choso looked thrilled about it all, which melts you.

He’s now gently stroking your cheek, not listening to you, instead of pulling on your hair. “So pretty.”

You hide your pleased little smile, kissing further down, now holding his thick length, fuck he’s so big it’s intimidating, he has precum dripping out of the little hole on his tip, your thumb swirls it around, his hips buck up just at that. “Cho, you’re so big, you sure that’ll fit?”

“I’ll make it fit, don’t worry.” He says, he’s so sweet you think, as you’re studying his perfect features, the straight nose, the bow of his lips. “I will have you so ready, you are really tight though.”

“Gonna stretch me out, Cho?” When your mouth reaches the tip of his cock, you give it a tentative lick, and he gasps, you taste the salty but sweet sticky liquid there, taking more of his tip in then.

He gasps, his hand coming to the back of your head, entangling in your hair now, his moans urging you on. “Feels so good.”

“Mmm.” You take him in your mouth now, feeling the hot skin stretched tight over his hardness with your tongue. Choso’s moans fill the room, urging you on as you bob your head, finding a rhythm now, and he’s a mess under you.

“S’good, s’good, you’re… yes, please, there.” He is muttering in a little mantra, his eyes never leaving yours, so dilated they look black now, you pull up just a bit with a pop, Choso’s thumb traces your lips. “You look so pretty like this.”

“You can push me on it if you want.”

“No! I can’t. You’re too… cute and… I don’t want to hurt you…”

“Choso, stop. You won’t. Push a little.” He tentatively puts his hand on the back of your head now, pushing up, his hips rock slightly, fucking your mouth. You moan around him, loving the feeling of him fucking you deeper.

“Are you okay?” You nod around his length, and he’s fucking up harder, you hear the sound of your suction mixing with his sexy sounds. “That’s it, you’re so good.”

All his praise gets you so wet, and you are sucking him deeper, eager to taste him fully, to make him feel the same way he made you feel last night. Your mouth takes him in, inch by inch, feeling the weight of his cock on your tongue, which darts across the barbell on the underside of his thick cock.

You never minded oral, but something about tasting him makes you love it, you could do it forever if it wasn’t for the tenseness in your jaw. You breathe out your nose, relaxing your throat now, eating up the way he responds to every movement you make. His hands are in your hair now, not guiding but holding, as if he can't get enough of the sight of your lips wrapped around him.

You take him deep as you can, your throat tightening around him, he gasps, hips bucking up. “Don’t do too much!”

You laugh a bit, pulling back. “I’m good, promise. I like it.”

“Fuck you’re hot.” You giggle again, he’s just so sweet. You swirl your tongue around the tip, licking off the precum that's leaking out, and you notice Choso's thighs are trembling, his abs tightening as you suck him, and you know he's close, you can feel him getting even thicker.

With a final moan, he pulls you off, and you look up at him, eyes watering slightly, your lips swollen from your efforts. "Let me finish.”

“No, I want to feel you, please." He says, his voice hoarse, and you nod, feeling your heart skip a beat at the thought. He flips on top of you now, licking a thumb and rubbing your clit, and you're wet and ready, panting for him.

“You don’t have to, I’m so ready.” You plead, Choso’s eyes get lidded, continuing his little circles, making you whine out for him, reaching down and stroking him once more.

“You’re really tiny.”

“I can stretch.”

“Not very angelic.” He says, teasingly, and you both giggle nervously. He slips two fingers inside you, groaning out as he does. “You’re so wet. From sucking me? How…”

You slide your hands up to cup his face. “Because it’s hot, just like how you got hard eating me out.”

He kisses you again, and you drown in those kisses, your friend’s lips shouldn’t feel this good, should they? You shove that out of your mind, you’re both inexperienced, one partner doesn’t mean you all suddenly can just fuck. Of course you wanted to feel more, casual sex isn’t something you’re used to yet.

That and Choso’s lips are plush, his fingers are thick, his body is hot… he’s perfect, and you’re craving him more than anything. You’re rolling your hips up for more, more, more of him, he breaks that kiss, leaning up, a little trail of saliva between your lips for just a moment, before studying you. So intense you’re blushing again.

He takes his fingers out, sucking on them again, off his black nails, as if you’re the yummiest treat. “Do you want to… use a…”

“Oh, y-yeah. Sure?” He laughs softly then, brushing your hair gently, leaning on an elbow over you.

“You’re so cute.”

“You’re cute, Cho bear.”

“Hmm…” He kisses you once more, leaning over to his nightstand, pulling out a row of magnum condoms, and you blush further. “Is everything okay? If you change your mind please tell me. We can-”

“No, no! Um. I’m ready. I want to.” You lean up on your elbows, watching him while nibbling your lower lip. “I just can’t believe we are doing this?”

“I know it’s like some dream from high school.” You giggle a bit.

“I know, though my dreams weren’t this… wild.”

“No?” He’s tearing the condom with his teeth, pulling it out and putting it at the tip of his cock now, you sit up a bit, grabbing it, catching his eyes.

“Let me.” He nods, that pink back on his cheeks, letting you gently roll the condom down his length, his cock twitches as you touch it. “My dreams in high school of you were us just making out.”

“You really dreamt of that?” He asks softly, and you nod, looking away, embarrassed to say such things. He grabs your face gently. “Hey… don’t get shy about it. I liked you too, remember?” You nod again. “Let me get some lube, it may be uncomfy with a condom.”

“Oh, I’m more than wet enough.” You say with a blush, but he’s laying you back down, kissing your tummy, before he’s spreading your thighs, and spits right on your pussy. “Oh!”

“So sexy.” He murmurs, licking you and spreading the spit all around your clit, your lips, your entrance. You grip his hair tightly, yanking on him.

“Fuck me, please.” He leans up quickly, his tip pressing against your little entrance, and you gasp, eyes locking on his. He has one hand pressing your thigh up, the other cupping your face.

“I’ll do anything when you ask so sweetly.” He teases, kissing you again, pressing deeper. You gasp, clinging to his bare back with your nails, he hisses a bit as they press in, leaving little half moons on his skin. “Oh my… oh my god. Are you okay!?”

You nod weakly, as he’s stretching you, pressing deeper, and stretching you out, then you feel it, the piercing, dragging on your walls, making you gasp. “Oh my… oh my god…”

“Fuck let me prep you more.” He goes to pull up, you pull him down, shaking your head, rolling your hips up.

“No, no, please do that again!” He takes a shaky breath, pulling out and then pressing back in, hitting some spot again that has your eyes rolling back. “More, please, more!”

“Anything you want, pretty. Oh you feel so tight, mmm.” He whispers, pulling out and pushing back in, fucking you with just half of his cock, but it feels so good you’re shattering, especially when his hand slides up to grip your wrists, and he pumps quicker.

“There, there!” He drags his piercing against your spot again, making you cum so hard it’s stupid, then you’re pulsing around him, soaking his length, making him slip in easier and easier. “Choso!”

“Mmm, good girl. Feel you cumming on me.” He whispers, your eyes open with a gasp, your hands weakly reaching up for him, digging into his slender hips, he’s kissing you gently, your cheeks, your eyes, letting you catch a breath. “Can you take more, angel? Or want me… half in.”

“I can do it.” He smiles a bit, shoving in then, and you gasp as he hits your cervix, so fucking deep you can’t stand it, you feel so full, so full of him. “Mmm!”

“Mmm…” You both moan into each other’s mouths as he lets you adjust to the sensation, as he feels so good this deep, tip kissing your cervix. He leans up and kisses you messy now, desperate, pulling back and pushing back in, stuffing your cunt so full of him, you’re dripping everywhere, getting wetter and wetter. “Feel s’good…”

“You… feel… so… ah!” You cry out as he’s fucking into you harder, mouth wide open, back arching.

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll slow down…”

“No, no, more. More.” He groans now over you, fucking into you harder, and your cunt eagerly sucks him in, his tip and that damn ring dragging along your fluttering walls under the thin layer of latex. “M’cumming!”

Choso shoves a leg up now, over his shoulder, fucking so deep you fall off that edge, cumming even harder, and he sucks in a breath as you do, feeling you clench around him so tightly. He’s kissing your ankle, your leg, his free hand pressing down on your hips, pinning you to the bed as you ride out your second orgasm from his cock, already weak.

“Can I go faster, please? You feel s’good I can’t take it.” He whispers softly, brows furrowed, you nod eagerly, then he’s fucking into you hard, skin smacking, the squishing sound of your pussy mixing with both of your cries. “Oh fuck you’re pretty, s’pretty angel…”

“Cho…” You’re sobbing as he enters you, over and over, wrecking everything you are, your mind can’t even function as he works you, your hands gripping the sheets, eyes struggling to focus on his handsome face, on his abs flexing. He fucks you so deep it hurts finally. “Ah!”

“Shit, sorry, sorry.” He leans down, only stretching your leg further, pulling his hips back and cupping your face. “Are you o-okay!?”

“Yes, yes, keep going.”

“We should…”

“Cho, I love it. Okay?” He exhales, kissing you softly, leaning up again and starting to fuck you at the same pace, then when he hurts you again, it’s like you’re craving it, that pain of him bruising that cervix. “Y-yes, mmm!”

“You s-sure?” He asks softly, his voice breaking with a moan.

“M’sure, yes, please. Go hard.” He does as you ask, fucking you deep and rough now, and your body lights up for it, he’s easing your thigh down now, gripping your throat with his tatted hand, so big, as he moves between your thighs.

“You’re so pretty like this.” He says softly, squeezing gently, thumb right on your pulse, that’s fluttering under his touch. “Can I choke your pretty neck?”

“Yes, yes. Please.” You have no clue what the fuck you’re doing, all you know is his huge length pounding in your pussy is driving you insane, his hand is squeezing, he’s looking how pretty you are with his hand on your throat, licking his glossy lips as he works you slower, squeezing.

“God you’re sexy. Tap me if it’s too much.” You nod a bit, then he’s squeezing harder as he fucks you, violet eyes drinking you in, lashes lowered, fucking into you with deep, strong strokes. Your pussy struggles to take him, stretched beyond her means, but you crave it, along with the bliss of him squeezing.

You’re weakly whining out as he squeezes more and more, you watch the tattoos down his body move with his muscles flexing, watch as he is staring down at your pussy, exhaling.

“She’s taking me so well. You’re so good f’me.” He says, squeezing harder and pressing in, rolling his hips just so, the tightness in your tummy builds, so much pressure, you’re cumming again, and now you’re barely able to make a sound, he’s squeezing so tight.

You’re getting fuzzy, the orgasm sapping the last breaths you had, to the point Choso is blurring, your face is getting so flush as he squeezes, big hands taking your throat over completely. The thrill of it, the fuzzy, floating feeling, mixing with the orgasm is overwhelming, you’re fading until he lets you go, carefully laying on you, brushing his fingers along your neck as you suck in air.

“I said tap, you were about to… mmm… you’re so tight how!?” You giggle, breathless, earning a cute glare.

“I could pass out, you’d wake me.” You tease, then gasp as he shoves his cock in so deep it hurts, the pressure, the fullness, bottoming out and stuffing you. “Cho!”

“You are giggling?” You shake your head, dying for this version of your sweet best friend, the one fucking you stupid. “Good. Why don’t you cum again?”

“Make me.”

“Make you.” He laughs softly, shaking his head, taking your hand then, sliding it down your tummy. “You rub that pretty little clit.”

“Yes Sir.” You tease, but you watch the effects on his face, watch his jaw drop open, his eyes fluttering shut when you rub your clit, soaking wet and slippery. “Mmm… want yours.”

“So greedy, aren’t you angel?” You smile, but the smile is cut off when he takes your fingers, sucking on them, rubbing your clit insted, leaning back on his knees, you’re screaming so goddamn loud you’re sure his neighbors here. “No more laughing.”

“N-no more.” You manage to squeak out, eyes rolling back, hips bucking up when he fucks into you, thrusts harder, his balls smacking against your ass, while he’s rubbing that clit like he’s always known you. “Ah!”

“That’s it. One more time. Please.” You’re too far into it not to, cumming so intensely you’re blinded again, hands in fists on his sheets, orgasm washing over you in waves. You’re trembling and gasping when he’s leaning over you, his heavy weight pressed against you. “Good girl.”

“Choso you’re making me dumb.” You whisper, tears falling from how much he’d made you cum, he cups your face, shaking his head.

“Never, too smart.”

“Cho…”

“I’m close, do you want me to stop?”

“No! No… cum, please. Cum.” He nods gently, kissing you now, one of his hands entwining with yours, sucking your breath away, you’re surrounded by nothing but Choso. It’s so fucking intimate tears fall, he gasps as he leans back, his head tilting up, showing that adam’s apple bobbing.

“You’re so hot, you’re so perfect, you- ah! Mmm!” Choso’s cock thickens, and you  feel pulsing inside his condom, as his cock gets hotter inside of you, and his pumping slows, gently now, as he looks back at you. You’re trembling, kissing him though your tears, which he now notices, brushing them aside. “Did I hurt you angel?”

“No, no. Not at all.” You takes several breaths, and he rests his forehead on yours now. It all feels too good. This shouldn’t feel this good!?

Is this what sex was?

Or was this sex with Choso?

“What’s wrong!? Please tell me. I’ll fix it.” He whispers, kissing your tears, which just pour more at how sweet he is. You shake your head.

“No, it was so perfect, it just… was intense? And got me… emotional. How embarassing, ugh-”

“No, it’s not at all!” He swipes your tears away, and you look up at him with trembling lips. “You are just feeling a lot. Was this too soon from your breakup?”

You laugh softly. “I haven’t thought of him actually all morning. Is that awful of me?”

“No, it’s not.” He eases out of you, and you hiss a bit at it. “Are you sure I didn’t hurt you, she looks all swollen.” He frowns then, running his fingers down your pussy lips, all puffy from him. You feel them throb in response.

“No, no, I’m just still new at this. And you’re really big.” You blush as you look at his cock, with the condom half on, the white cum pooling at the tip, and so very much of it too.

“I hope you wanna do it again. I swear next time-”

“Cho, stop. Fucking loved it. Tears of cumming a lot. Swear.” He smiles big then, and you melt, melt too much, surely. “I’ve never felt like that.”

“Me either-”

“Choso, you liked fucking. Don’t say that just to say it.” You sit up a bit then, looking for your shirt, as you worry then, what must your inadequacies be? Ino had no issue leaving you-

“Hey, hey.” He slides your shirt over your head, rubbing your shoulders gently, frowning now as he looks at you. “I mean it. You’re so beautiful, you feel so good around me, I came so hard-”

“Don’t say all that.” You swipe at your eyes, and Choso sighs, turning and giving you a view of his insanely muscled back, his round little ass, you see the tattoo that runs down his neck, twigs entwining down his muscles. Fuck he’s perfect.

“I told you, I say what I mean.” He says softly, turning back to you, and you are standing nervously.

“You loved Yuki.”

“I thought I was falling. Yeah. But… I don’t know. She’s not on my mind.” He cups your face, bringing you close now.

“Friends can feel like that?”

“Do you want more?”

“Cho… we said…”

“Yeah.” He blinks a bit, and you both stand there awkwardly.

“I should go.”

“What!?” Choso stops you now, pulling your back against him, and years of feelings pour in, overtaking you. All those years you both pined for others, always just missing each other, that’s how it was supposed to be, right? “Don’t leave, I’ll really think I hurt you.”

“You didn’t. You couldn’t hurt me.”

He kisses your neck, exhaling. “Do you not wanna do this again? Is it too weird with how close we are?”

“No, no! I love it. Um… I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” You’re swiping more tears, as you realize you could have been doing this, and that nothing has ever felt more right. But you now know Choso clearly… “You did it a lot, Cho?”

“Um… yeah. A lot.” You turn then, looking back up at him. “Is that bad?”

“No! No… you seem really good at everything. I don’t think I am.”

“What? You-”

“I didn’t do anything but lay there!”

“You’re being silly. Stop it.” He picks you up now, throwing you on the bed, and begins tickling you, making you gasp.

“Stop!”

“When you stop being mean to yourself. Better be nice, you’re my best friend. Hah!” He gets you right under your breasts, and you laugh so hard you can barely breathe, wriggling under him.

“Mercy!”

“Mmm, thought so.” He stops, leaning over you, and you brush his hair back with a shaky hand. “I wanna do that all the time.”

“Fuck me?” You whisper.

“Oh God yes, in every position. You know you blush all over?”

“Hey!” You’re giggling and he leans down, then pauses. You both look at each other, the room silent now aside from Choso’s fan whirring and your labored breaths. “What is it?”

“I don’t want to lose you, ever.”

You blink emotions back. “Oh Cho… you won’t.”

“Promise me?” He holds up a pinky, you smile softly, taking his pinky in yours, curling them together. “If it ever gets too much, if it will fuck up our friendship, you have to tell me.”

“I swear I will. I’m just… new to this. I’m sorry I cried.”

“Don’t you apologize.” He kisses you gently, leaning up. “We said just around sex, the kissing, yeah?”

“Y-yeah. I guess we did.” He pulls away with a sigh, and helps you up now, hugging you tightly, kissing your head as he always has, like a friend.

A friend.

A friend with a huge cock.

A friend with a tongue that’s…

Stop that!

“Let’s get your clothes from your place and get coffee? Yeah bestie?” He asks with a smile, and you nod shyly now. “Bestie with the tightest pussy-”

“Cho!”

Choso’s POV

Five days later- Friday Night

Choso hasn’t been able to get you off his mind all week, now he is tuning his guitar, next to Yuji and Megumi, prepping for their show tonight. Choso sees Megumi as his other little brother, Yuji’s best friend forever, Yuji is tuning his bass guitar as Megumi is fiddling with his drums. The nightclub is packed tonight, tons of eager girls and fans surrounding them.

But his mind keeps drifting to you, when would you be coming, would you come, you all had just… gone back to being friends all week, both working, but texting more, and talking more, like you used to. Which he loves so much, he missed your brightness in his life, but also…Now he’s been inside of you, he’s tasted you, and you’ve tasted him.

How does he just go back to normal after it?

It feels almost wrong not dating you after being so intimate, Choso knows he’s a bit old fashioned for a man with a tongue ring, tattoos and a dick piercing, but he actually is old school when it comes to romance. It may be why he had already thought of proposing to Yuki, because that’s just what he felt was right to do, and god nothing he did before came close to you.

That’s what is really messing with him, watching your pretty face flush as he’d squeezed your throat? His tattooed, big hands wrapped on your tiny little neck, your eyes so dilated, as he had you writhing under him. How does he just compute that as his friend?

That’s what you wanted, he supposes he wanted it too, to not date anyone for some time, but now he’s going insane thinking of you, but also he doesn’t want to push something, ruin something. So he has to act unaffected, normal, every morning bringing you a coffee, but now his eyes dip to your cleavage in your pretty work dresses, just a hint, but now he knows what your breasts look like.

Now he knows how those legs feel around his face, around his hips, and knows how it feels to have that heat surrounding him. He’d jerked it to the memories every night since he saw you last, mental images driving him to insanity, to the point it’s difficult to focus on anything else. Even now you dance through his mind, as he keeps peeking at his phone, putting his guitar down then, when he sees it light up.

Angel💜 - I’m out front Cho Bear!

Choso smiles then, and Yuji comes up to him, peeking and smiling. “Hey, it’s my future wife!”

“In your dreams.” Megumi mumbles, smirking lazily when Yuji pouts.

“You’re mean, Megumi! Choso, you gotta hook me up with her. Please!” Choso usually would laugh at that, but now…

He gets irritated at his own brother?

What’s your pussy done to him, jesus.

“You’re still a baby, kiddo.” He ruffles Yuji’s pink spiky hair, earning his brother’s pout.

“But she broke up with that guy you said?”

“Yeah, so, you’re not getting her. She’s too hot for you.” Megumi says, then he chuckles a bit. “Me, though? Maybe.”

Choso glares at Megumi now, twirling his sticks in his hand, lazily looking as you walk through the front doors. “You’re both too young.”

“She’s twenty four, I’m nineteen, it’s not even that big of a deal. Megumi, you’re eighteen so hah!” Yuji says, pointing at him with a laugh. Megumi rolls his eyes.

“For two months-”

“Neither of you. Keep dreaming.” Choso says, waving over at you, and his heart falters when he drinks you in, this pretty black corset and a little plaid skirt with chains, you look so good he…

“Fuck she’s hot.” Yuji whistles, and Choso smacks him on the back of the head. “What are you finally gonna shoot your shot? Been my whole life almost.”

“We’re… just… friends.” He mumbles.

“Then hook your little brother up!”

“Nah. Now shut up, she’s coming.” You bounce up to them, a big smile on your pretty face, it’s like everyone else in the room fades. Choso has always known how beautiful you are, but now it’s ridiculous, how has he had such a pretty best friend, how has it not affected him, until now that he’s had just a taste of you.

And did you ever want to again? You’d been nothing but sweet and friendly, texting him several times a day, pictures of your meals or little selfies, along with all sorts of funny things you find. But that’s how you all were before Ino and Yuki, it was just the same, but now he wants to ask you for the lewdest things.

He wants to slide that skirt up in the bathroom and go down on you, fuck he could do that forever you taste so good, have your wetness dripping down his face, taste you on his lips all night. He gets hard under his dark black jeans thinking of it, shaking himself out of that as you get paused by several guys along the way, all hitting on you.

Of course they are.

But it makes him angry.

Choso is going to suck at this friends with benefits thing, isn’t he? He finally holds out a hand for you, and you take it eagerly, hopping up on the stage and hugging him tightly. He exhales at how good you feel, you’re so small compared to him, he could just pick you up and-

Fuck.

“Cho Bear, I’m so excited! I hope this outfit fits the vibe.” You say, and he stands back, eyeing you up and down, lips parted. You blush just a bit.

“You look so hot. I’ll say it for him.” Yuji says, as Choso is standing there, unable to even fucking speak. God what’s going on with him?

“Thanks, Yuji. Missed you!” You give him a hug, and Yuji enjoys it far too much. “You’ve gotten taller!”

“He’s still short.” Megumi teases, earning Yuji’s glare over your shoulder, he won’t let you go.

“I’m like an inch shorter, ass-”

“You’re all short.” Choso says, earning their glares, and your giggle. You now come over to Megumi, who hugs you too tightly for Choso’s liking, he wishes they were still young enough he could give them whippings, little brats.

“Megumi! Missed you!” You say, and Megumi buries his face in your hair as he holds you too long.

They’d always done this, fawned over you, and it was cute, they were just babies after all, but now Choso wants you to himself, and even their teasing has him riled up. But it’s not as if you’re his, you’re just his friend, and he knows you see them as little brothers, so why is he feeling this way!?

Did you ruin him fucking him once?

“Missed you too. We both did. You look so pretty.” Megumi says now, and you giggle a bit, holding both of their hands.

“You both are trying to suck up to me, stop it. I bet you two get in trouble at college huh?”

“Nah, that’s him.” They say simultaneously, pointing at each other, you roll your eyes with a smile, turning back to Choso, your eyes dart down his body, and that blush comes back, and fuck you blush down your throat, your chest…

“You look beautiful. I’m sorry.” Choso says softly, you shake your head, walking back over to him and letting the boys argue.

“You don’t have to say that, it’s-”

“No, you do. You really do.” He brushes your hair back, and you gasp, eyes locking onto his, and just the slightest touch, drives him insane, especially when he sees the goosebumps rise on your pretty breasts, pressed high in that corset top, one he’d love to rip off you.

“Thank you, Cho. You look really hot.” You say softly, trying to compose yourself, running a finger down his black band shirt, smiling up at him.

“Thank you, I-”

“Choso, Choso!” The girls are lining up in hoards, and he sighs, rolling his eyes a bit, you giggle. “Is that your girlfriend!?”

“No, just my best friend.” He says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, and you tense then, smiling with terse lips.

“Oh good! Can you sign my tits, Choso!” Choso rolls his eyes, and you step back, confusing him a bit.

“I’ll let you get started, I’ll be watching.” You say, and then he stops you, taking your hand gently.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No! No. I’m not cool with all the attention like you, is all.” You say, looking down nervously at your boots.

“Wait, I have a VIP tag, you can drink free all night.” You smile a bit then, and he snatches up the pass, putting it over your neck now, a neck he’d had-

Fuck.

“Thanks Cho, I can’t wait. You’re gonna kill it.” You kiss his cheek now.

“Are you… coming over? After?” He whispers now, in your ear, and you shift a bit nervously.

“I can come over. If you’ll still want to, you will be busy with all these-”

“I want you to. Please.” You step back, looking up at him.

“Of course, but don’t shut yourself off, we’re just…”

“Friends.”

“Yes.”

Choso sighs, looking at you. “Then why do I wanna-”

“Choso!” They’re all coming in hoards, before Choso can finish his sentence, that he wants to fuck you so badly you can’t walk the next day. But now he’s getting posters shoved at him to sign, and you wave at him, bouncing off over to the bar.

Just friends, huh?

Your POV

Choso, Megumi and Yuji absolutely kill the set. Choso is all sweaty now as he finishes the song, holding the mic with one hand, a hand that had been gripping your breast just last week. Lips singing, lips that had sucked your nipples into his mouth. Hips shifting, hips that had pumped in and out, wrecking your pussy, a pussy sore for days.

You can’t just think like that!

Friends, friends, friends.

Megumi and Yuji are playing so well, you remember the three of them in Choso’s garage constantly practicing, you’re so proud of them, they’re like your own little brothers. Choso however, was not like your brother, even before you all had made love, you always saw how hot he was, you always wondered what it would be like to be intimate with him.

He blew your fucking mind, you want more.

It took everything in you not to have begged him to come over, to have not just showed up at his house, fuck to not lift your skirt up and fuck in your little office at work, you were so tempted. It took everything in you to keep it together, playing with your pussy imagining Choso’s tongue ring hitting your clit instead, whining in frustration when nothing worked.

You shift now in your seat, Choso is taking a break, he smiles at you but a really pretty blond comes up to him now, wrapping her arms around his neck and whispering something in his ear. You tense as you sip your drink, tasting the tart juice on your tongue, he’s not yours, why should you care? He never has been, and one night of sex didn’t change that.

She’s holding her phone out and laughing, she’s really pretty, you think, Choso laughs a bit, genuinely enjoying her. She looks like Yuki, that’s his type, right? And that’s fine, why do you care, why does the sight of them apparently exchanging numbers make you feel sick to your stomach? When this was all your idea, not Choso’s.

Did Choso even want you, or was this just some… friendship, feeling sorry for you… going along with it? He had talked to you constantly, but he certainly had not hit on you, even when you sent kind of suggestive pics, not once did he ask to see more, or even act like a ‘friend with benefits’ you almost wondered if he wanted to do it again at all.

Until he’d asked you to come over.

You hear your name, and a whistle, and look to your left, mouth dropping open when you see him, the guy that had taken your high school heart and crushed it, Satoru fucking Gojo. How you’d missed his shocking white hair you have no clue, maybe you’d been too absorbed in the show. Now he’s smirking down at you, looking as gorgeous if not more so.

Fucker.

“You really filled out late, hmm? Look hot as fuck.” He says, earning your glare, and he’s smirking more now.

“Fuck off, Gojo.”

“That’s not a good greeting, pretty.” He pouts those full lips at you, standing right in front of you at the bar, towering over you, he’s just a little taller than Choso. He’s got a drink in his hand, you smile at it.

“You drinking a pink pussy?”

“Fuck off it’s yummy.” You both laugh then, you hold out your hand to shake his, but he pulls it in, kissing the back of it.

High school you would be freaking the fuck out at this, but you remember Gojo breaking up with you at prom, and that really hurt at the time. Honestly you were broken over him for a whole damn year after, he’d been such a little shit then, surely he hasn’t changed. But also…

Your mind is wrapped in your best friend, the best friend who is dancing as there is different music playing now, a girl grinding on him. You take a shaky breath, realizing you’re being foolish. You perhaps can’t separate the two, sex from relationships, maybe you do need more experience.

“So… how have you been, pretty?” His words shake you out of your thoughts.

“I’m good, Gojo. You?” You ask, eyes back up to his, swirling blue intense eyes that had your heart in high school.

“I’m really good. Running the family business, so fun.” He rolls his eyes, and you smile at that.

“I’m sure you do great.”

“So you with Choso finally?”

“Oh, no. Still friends.” You blush, looking down at your now empty drink, Satoru takes it from your grip, ordering you a pink pussy. “I don’t want that!”

“We’ll both drink pussy tonight.” He says with an audacious wink, and you gasp at that, earning his chuckle as he hands you the pink drink.

“You’re too much.” You say, sipping it. “Yummy though.”

“Your pussy is yummy?” You gasp again, smacking at his chest, and he throws his head back with laughter, deep and husky.

“Maybe it is.” You say with a shy look down, and he curses softly.

“Oh fuck. You finally lost your pesky virginity?”

You sip the drink, glaring at him over the cup. “Oh fuck off, jock.”

“Not anymore. I’m lazy.”

“Sure you are.” You shove at him again, but he pins you between his arms, pressing you against the bar. “Why now? You didn’t like me enough then.”

“Maybe I was a jock idiot.” He murmurs, leaning far too close, and you feel your heart skip a beat. “Can I get a re-do? Grab some food sometime?”

You take a breath then, inhaling some stupidly expensive cologne. “I don’t know, Gojo, I just got out of a bad breakup.”

“So let’s fuck then.”

“Gojo!” You sigh, head leaning back, he’s chuckling.

“I’m kidding… kinda. A date with adult Gojo, not jock Gojo?”

“Ah, still doing that third person shit.” He sticks his tongue out at you. “Maybe we can grab a bite sometime. But no promises.”

Gojo grins, white teeth glinting, and he backs off, letting you breathe, you see Choso is finishing the dance up, and the girl is kissing on his cheek. You can see his blush from here, see his hand respectfully on her shoulder, while her hands are all over his chest, making your tummy turn.

You’re stupid. You had pined for Gojo, letting Choso go, only to now pine for Choso, and maybe let Gojo go. You can’t be that dumb girl.

Choso looks at you both now, eyes narrowing, and you decide to tiptoe, yanking Gojo down by his dress shirt, kissing his cheek. Choso glares now, leaving that girl finally and coming towards you both. You’re being petty and stupid, all while Satoru Gojo’s lips are almost against yours now, his big hand cupping your face.

“You did lose it, huh?” He teases, you snort, nodding now. “Aww you’re not such a goody goody.”

“You’re still a dick, Gojo.” You lean down, stepping back, only for him to bend low and kiss your cheek now, soft lips that were your first kiss all those years ago.

“Give me your number, little brat.” He murmurs.

“Oh fine. Don’t annoy me too much.” You give him your phone number as Choso walks by, and Gojo smiles at him.

“Great show, man, you killed it.” He says, and Choso smiles back a bit, nodding and holding a hand out.

“Thanks man. Fuck your best friend though.”

“I know, shit move.” Gojo says, shaking his head. “Pussy really fucks your head up though, y’know?”

“I do know. Catching up?” He asks now, looking at you directly, and you nod just a bit, as Gojo checks his phone.

“Shit, gotta go. Text me, pretty?” He asks you, kissing your cheek again, you sigh, shrugging one bare shoulder.

“Maybe.”

“Ouch.” He shivers again, grinning at Choso. “You’ve got a mean ass, hot ass best friend you know. Later!” Gojo’s lanky form disappears, leaving you and Choso alone, tense, just staring at each other.

“Great show, Choso.” You say, and he scoffs, glaring now. “What?”

“Gojo, really?”

“Really what? I told him maybe a drink. What’d you tell the pretty blond?” You ask then, and Choso flushes, looking away.

“You told me don’t hold back. Just friends.”

“Yep. So.”

“But Gojo?”

“What about it? What do you care?” You set your drink down then, grabbing your purse and slinging it over your shoulder.

“Don’t go! What’s your problem?”

“That I sucked so bad at sex you didn’t want to again.” You whisper, choking up now, and his violet eyes go wide, his mouth dropping open, but you walk away, pressing through the writhing sea of bodies.

“Wait, what!?”

“Great show. I didn’t miss a single one you know.” He stops you then, in front of the building, in the cool night air, which you suck in greedily, turning you to him.

“You didn’t?” He asks softly.

“Not one. How could I? I’m so proud of you. I just hung out at the back of the club so you wouldn’t know.” Choso exhales, closing his eyes now.

“Why do you think I don’t wanna feel your perfect pussy again?” He whispers, making your pussy clench around nothing, you bite your lower lip, drawing his attention to it, he steps closer to you, taking over your senses.

“You didn’t bring it up all week! Even after pics of me in my slutty ass nightie I sent.”

“I thought you slept in that!?”

“No!”

“I didn’t think you wanted to. I was afraid it was too weird. And you didn’t bring it up again, either… I can’t just ask for more, it seems disrespectful!”

“You could have. I would have sent them. I’m stupid.”

“You’re not! Don’t just go home. Please, come over.” He pulls you flush against him now, and your lashes flutter shut.

“Invite the pretty girl over, don’t let me ruin-” Choso slams his lips on yours, and fuck it feels so good, you whine out softly, tip toeing as he bends down, pressing you against the brick wall of the club. His hands grip your waist, as he pulls back, eyes lidded.

“I want you so fucking bad. Can’t get it out of my head.” He says against your lips, you taste his sweet breath, mingling with yours, your hands come to grip his band shirt, feeling the sweat of him, only serving to turn you on more, especially when his thigh presses between yours.

“This is a bad idea. We shouldn’t have.” You say then, as you grind on his leg, crying out softly.

“Fuck…” He moans so quiet, his hands pressing into your waist, burning you through your corset. “No, we should do it again.”

“What!?”

“Yes, to… prove we can just… do that…”

“Oh, yes… maybe… that’s it…” He slides your skirt up, pulling his thigh away, finding you sopping wet over your panties, his eyes flutter shut as you cry out, back arching. “Not here.”

“Not here. Fuck, can you wait till I take you home?” He asks, and you shake your head, especially when his finger sinks into your heat, filling you so good, finger pressing on that spot, making you see stars in the night.

“Please.” You whisper, soaking wet, dripping down his fingers.

“I need you in my bed, not just-”

“Car.”

He blinks then, in shock at your boldness, and maybe you were too, but you can’t stand it, the throbbing need. “In the car?”

“Bathroom.”

“Oh fuck, you’re down to one word sentences, shit.” He looks around, as if thinking of his best options. “What if I get you off in the car then we go back to my place? Will that work?”

“Maybe.” He laughs a bit softly, caressing your jaw.

“I missed kissing you already.”

“Fuck.” You can’t form more than one word, not when he’s rubbing your clit right outside this club, and kissing you again, tongue ring clicking against your teeth, tongue devouring your mouth.

“You’re so wet, I… come on.” He drags you eagerly through the club, women are trying to stop him, but he ignores them completely, dragging you back in the club where you haven’t seen. “There’s a… private room for the band back here.”

He shuts the door to the room with a quiet click, locking it and turning to you then, picking you up like it’s nothing, carrying you to the little couch in the room, kissing your lips again, hungry now. He’s moaning over you, tongues entwining, and you can’t stop your hips from shifting up. He eagerly slides up your skirt, as you struggle to breathe a bit in your top.

“Is it uncomfy?” He asks gently.

“When I lay down, yeah, um… not when I sit up.”

“Oh shit, okay.” He sits you up carefully, turning you so your legs are on the edge of the couch, between your thighs now, and you tug at the pigtails he has on, earning a look of hunger in his violet gaze. “You look so fucking hot tonight.”

“You do. Ah!” He’s kissing up your thighs now, spreading them, and you’re pulling more and more. “Cho, please…”

“Please what, angel?” He whispers, making you jerk when his tongue traces the top of your inner thigh, his breath against your pussy. He shoves your thong to the side, revealing glistening lips, moaning. “Fuck you weren’t even this wet last time.”

“You on that stage did things.” You admit, and he blushes, pulling your hips towards his face, taking your hand and making you hold your panties aside.

“What do you want, use your words. And more than one.”  He teases, and you glare now.

“You know…”

“Say it.”

“Make me cum with your tongue, please.” He groans now, then he’s pulling you to him, tongue swiping up your slit, and you have to cover your mouth to stop the scream that comes out.

“This taste…” He whispers, your hand clutches the panties so hard they dig in, when he spreads your pussy lips, sliding his tongue inside. You’re soaking his face at an embarrassing speed, thighs trembling when he flicks it up, looking up at you now.

“Cho… fuck…” You whisper, breasts heaving in the corset as you look down at him. “Take em off.”

He slips them off quickly, tossing your thong on the floor, and burying his face back against you, tongue flicking so fast you can’t take it, slipping two thick fingers in your slick pussy. He stretches you out so good, your head falls back, pulling on his pigtails for more, as his tongue and fingers work you so perfectly. You’re overheated, mind whirling, vision darkening.

Choso’s touches, his kisses, his fingers pumping in and out do you in. You cover your face with both hands, legs shaking violently as your orgasm hits so hard, and you’re gushing down his face, his hand. He drinks you up, the sounds loud and lewd, slurping up every bit that pours, your walls fluttering. You yank him up again now, and drag his lips to yours, tasting yourself on them.

He moans into your mouth as you rub him over his jeans, making him hiss, stopping your hand. “Angel I’m fine just making you cum.”

“Want your cock. Now.” He blinks again, looking at you in surprise. “You felt so good in me, please.”

“Fuck… I don’t have a…”

“I don’t care.” You’ve unzipped him now, letting out his thick length, pumping it with your hand, up and down. “I never haven’t used one, I’m clean.”

“Me too… I always used one… fuck, we’re doing this, oh my god...” He flips you now, to where you’re straddling him on the couch, and starts grinding you against his cock, you’re clutching him as you slide back and forth, head lolling to the side for his kisses. “You feel so good, I wanted to fuck you so bad all week.”

“No…”

“Yes, fuck yes. I swear. Jerked off every night.” You gasp then, when he slides into you, filling you so full, his cock stretching your slick cunt out. You both pause, at the feeling of him without a condom, your breath comes out in little pants, as does his, his eyes rolling back for a moment. “Oh fuck you feel even better, you’re so hot-”

You slam your lips on his now, rolling your hips, and he’s groaning into your lips, bucking his hips up, slamming into your cervix. “I haven’t been on top… I don’t…”

“I’ll use you then, huh baby?” He whispers, mentally fucking you, as you look at him in desire, nodding, as if you know what the fuck he means. “Hold on to me.”

You do as he says, still confused, wrapping your arms around him, then he’s fucking up into you, so hard you cum all over his cock, making him slow, cheeks flushed, lips glossy, pulling at your corset and biting and sucking on your exposed breasts hungrily. He keeps fucking up into you, and you’re gushing down his jeans as he does, feeling the denim brush your sensitive skin.

“Choso… Choso…” You’re crying out, and he’s crying out your name, the squishing of your pussy louder as he fucks harder, his piercing rolling on your walls as his weeping tip knocks your cervix.

“You feel so perfect, fuck you’re pretty, why would… you think I… wouldn’t want you…” He whispers, fucking you so good tears are falling from your eyes, you’re sniffling, trying to grasp at him, to keep you tethered. “Wanna cum in your perfect pussy, fill you up.”

“Choso!” You feel yourself closer and closer, as he’s muttering to himself, to you, grabbing your ass so hard, dragging you down his length, over and over. “Why… would you think… I didn’t…want you!?”

“You’re too p-pretty-”

“Fuck off. Fuck me.” Your head is thrown back now, hair falling down your back as he does just that, biting on your throat now, as you cum again, this time it sends shockwaves, you realize Choso was gentler last time, as he pounds up hard. You pull back and see his pussy drunk eyes, matching your cock drunk ones.

His hand comes to pull your hair at the base, his thrusts slowing, moving his hips just so as you’re pulsing around his cock. “Close… close, you feel too good, you feel so… cum again, f’me please. Please.”

He’s rubbing your clit between you both now, and you shatter over him, his lips try to absorb some of the sound but it’s nearly impossible, you’ve completely lost any sense, just how good Choso Kamo feels inside you, raw. He huffs now, fucking faster and faster, before pulling you up and off him, still on his lap, and you watch the white ropes of cum pouring all over.

He’s moaning so sexy, looking right at you, free hand cupping your face, and your hand joins his, finishing pumping out his cum, making him gasp. “Feel s’good, angel, s’good.” He whispers.

“You felt so good, Choso. M’weak…” You say softly, looking at where your hands are joined, his cum all over both of them now.

“I wanted to cum in you so bad, but that’s… intimate. Huh?” He says softly, searching your eyes, and you nod a bit, looking around and grabbing tissues, cleaning him and you up carefully. He’s struggling to get a breath, as you realize what you’ve done, panicking. “What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing.” You pull on your panties now, with shaky hands, pussy aching from him, entire body lit up. You wanna cuddle him, kiss him, sleep with him all damn night, this isn’t normal this-

“Please, I’ll think I did something wrong again.” He whispers, kissing your neck, holding you against him.

“I suck at the um… friends with benefits thing, Is all.”

“Suck, no you’re… amazing. What do you mean? Pussy is perfect.” You turn then, nervously looking up at him.

“Cho, how serious will you get with a girl before you stop fucking me?” He blinks then, shaking his head.

“I… I’m not gonna date someone any time soon, I told you…”

“So if you go on dates, you’ll still…”

“I mean, until it’s a full relationship, yes. What about you?” He asks then, as he adjusts his jeans.

“Of course I agree. So if you go on dates… as long as you don’t…”

“I would never sleep with someone and not tell you, especially if we’re not using anything. I’m not like that anyway.” He says, looking down at you now. “You’re the first like this for me too. I don’t wanna fuck up.”

“I just need to separate it, that's all.” You say, and his mouth opens, but the door knocks, and you head toward it.

“Separate what?” He asks, pausing you at the door.

“Sex from… feelings I guess.” You mumble, feeling mortified. Choso gulps now, cupping your face in his hands. “I won’t sleep with anyone without telling you either, I promise.”

“And will you sleep with anyone? With Gojo?” He asks, the knocks continue, and he sighs. “In a minute!”

“With Gojo? I can’t stand him. I just… said maybe we’d catch up. What about you and-”

“You were in love with him.”

“And!? What do you care, you’re just my friend, right?” He glares, jaw locking, pressing his hand against your pussy, you gasp.

“Friend that just made you cum over and over.” He whispers, so you lean close, so close you can taste him.

“And I made you cum all over, so much cum too.” You whisper back, before stepping away, taking a breath, leaving him visibly shaken, his eyes dilating as he presses against you. “We will be honest, always. If you don’t want to… fuck me… you can just tell me, okay?”

“As if that’ll happen.” He stops you once more, pressing you against the door, kissing you again. You pull back.

“Only around sex, for kissing. Right?” He glares again, you want his kiss, you want all of Choso, you feel you’ve opened some stupid can of worms now.

“Maybe I wanna fuck you again, cum in-”

Knock Knock Knock.

“Choso!” You hear Yuji whining, and you both separate quickly, you try to get yourself together.

“Come to my place tonight.” He says softly, as he goes to open the door. You can’t stand another night in his arms, you’re already too attached, being just too stupid, what were you thinking? Maybe you didn’t think you’d feel all this…

“Maybe we can see each other tomorrow?” He frowns then, nodding, and you kiss his cheek, before darting out, ignoring everything, pussy throbbing, entire body ignited, and your heart, your mind!?

You’re confused. All you know is you can’t stand the thought of your best friend with someone, and that’s against the rules you all just made. You’re going to have to shove it back, going to have to…

But how!? How when he looked at you like that while he fucked you raw.

You take a breath, heading back into the club, to say something, anything, maybe you’re rude, maybe…

Choso’s sitting next to her, that girl, and they’re laughing.

After he was inside you.

You turn away before you make a fool of yourself, it’s just sex, it’s just sex, you’re just friends.

You get into the back of the ride you order, as your screen lights up, but it’s not Cho Bear…

It’s Satoru Gojo.

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[dira333]

Stubble or no stubble, that is the question - Suna Rintarou x Reader

for the Baby Series, requested by @moochiwoochi

“Dada boo!”

Rintarou blinks against the morning light. A weight shifts on his chest and something wet meets his cheek.

“Dada boo?”

“Hey,” he’d recognize that voice out of millions. “What are you doing up already?”

“Mamamama!”

You appear in the doorframe, toothbrush sticking out of your mouth, doing the “boo” gesture without the sound. Sora still shrieks with happy laughter, falling over on his chest.

“Mama boo!” She cries excitedly, slapping his stomach until he hooks his hand around her butt and pulls her close.

“Gimme a kiss,” he asks and Sora happily puckers her lips, sponging wet kisses against his cheek.

“Dada yuck,” she declares suddenly, her small hands poking his cheek.

“Yuck?” He asks, a little confused and a little heartbroken. “I’m not yuck.”

“It’s probably the stubble,” you call from the bathroom. “It’s itchy.”

“It’s not itchy,” he pouts, leaning into his baby girl. “Right, Sora?”

“Yuck,” she repeats again, poking his cheek until he sighs. “Fine, I’ll go shave.”

“Nooo,” you whine, stepping into the bedroom again. “I like it.”

“But Sora doesn’t want to give me kisses anymore,” Rintarou pouts, a little less hurt over that fact when you kiss him instead, and on the lips too. 

“Well,” you grin cheekily when you move back. “You’ll have to decide what to prioritize. My kisses or hers.”

“That’s mean.”

“Says the man who made me decide between cuddling my plushies or cuddling my husband.”

“Plushies can’t-”

“Shush,” you cut him off, picking Sora up. “Dada’s being silly.”

“Dada silly,” she repeats like the good girl she is. Rintarou sighs.

“No one in this house is on my side.”

You laugh. “Go to work then, see if they’ll agree with you.”

“Washio would, for sure.”

“Sure,” you pat his cheek with a smile. “Now, do you wanna shower while I do breakfast, or?”

“Depends. Does the little princess need some showering too?” He sniffs the air. “Changing first though, right?”

“I just changed her,” you cry in exasperation while Rintarou can’t help but laugh over Sora’s expression, the utter focus she has when creating a stink.

“I’ll change her and take her into the shower,” he takes her from you. “You get the breakfast.”

-

“Dada boo!” Rintarou hears over the squeaking of shoes and turns, waving. “I’m there in a second.”

“Dada boo!” Sora cries out again, no understanding for the concept of work hours and that her Dada has to get the Coaches permission to take a break.

“Hey Stink,” he’s at her side in a heartbeat, but she’s pouty already, avoiding his kiss.

“Aww,” Rintarou clutches his wounded heart. “No kiss for Dada?”

“Heeey,” Komori calls out behind him, “Is that the little Suna?”

Sora’s face lights up at the sounds and sights of him, stretching her chubby arms in his direction.

“Omo!” She calls out, laughing when he picks her up and swirls around in circles until she’s dizzy.

“Don’t be jealous,” you tell him, hitting his chest softly. “At least try to be a grown-up.”

“Traitor,” he bites back and you laugh before kissing him.

“How was training?” You ask, watching as Sora gets handed from one player to the other, laughing in their faces and poking their cheeks, content with all that male attention.

“Hmm?”

“Training, Rin. How was it?”

“Oh, it was good. We did- Hey, be careful, okay?!” Rintarou snaps at Sarukui who all but throws Sora into the air.

“Relax,” Sarukui responds, laid back as usual. “I have my own kid at home. I know what I’m doing.”

“Dada,” Sora calls out as if only just now realizing that Rintarou’s there too. “Dada boo!”

“Yeah, you wanna come back to Dada?” He opens his arms and she makes grabby hands at him, laughing when he fetches her and blows a raspberry against her clothed stomach.

“Let’s eat with Mama, hah?” Rintarou asks his little sunshine, grinning when she nods.

-

“What are you feeling like?” Rintarou asks once he’s through the door. “Making Dinner? Playing another round with Sora?”

You sigh when he pulls you into his arms, one eye on the little rascal that’s playing innocently on the living room floor - at least for now.

“I think I’m getting a migraine,” you confess to him. “Vision’s been weird all afternoon.”

“Did you call anyone for help?”

“It wasn’t that bad.

“Nuhuh, we talked about it. Vision gets weird, you call my mom or my sister. They’re alive for a reason.”

You laugh into his chest. “They’re not existing just to babysit.”

“They might as well. Especially Rikka. She owes me for all the times I babysat her.”

You wince at his tone and he quiets immediately, pulling you a little closer.

“Go lay down,” Rintarou reassures you. “Me and Sora have Dinner down, easy.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely. And if we burn everything we can still order Take-out. I’m gonna call you in half an hour, tops, to see if you’re up to eating something, kay?”

“Kay.” You get on your tiptoes to kiss him, giggle into his stubble. 

Sora doesn’t notice you leave but she notices him when he gets down on his knees next to the blanket she’d been playing on.

“Dada!”

“Yeah, Dada’s home,” Rintarou smiles. “Wanna cook Dinner with me?”

“Dada,” she reaches out to him. “Boo?”

“Not right now,” he blows a kiss against her cheek. “We’ll play Boo later. What do you wanna eat? Caviar? T-Bone Steak?”

He opens the cupboard and Sora squeals at the sight of her favorite crackers.

“One,” he tells her sternly before fishing out two. “Now, what’s easy to make that Mom likes?”

-

You’re still out for the count by the time Rintarou gets Sora ready for bed so he makes the most of it, picks a weird PJ Combo he knows you’ll laugh about in the morning and squeezes into her bed to cuddle before she falls asleep.

“This is the hungry little caterpillar,” he explains softly, pointing at the picture in Sora’s newest book. She points at it two, one ear from her stuffed fox firmly tucked into her mouth. “Yes, you got it.”

Her eyes fall closed soon after, tuckered out from another day of growing, so he closes the book and kisses her temple, pouting when his stubble makes her curl her tiny nose.

“Gonna shave right now,” he promises quietly as he frees himself from the confines of the small bed.

You curl into him the moment Rintarou slips under the covers, tuck your head against his shoulder even in your sleep.

“Hope you still love me tomorrow,” he tells you whisper-quiet as he steals one last kiss. “At least I’ll still love you without my stubble.”

[sincere1ystar]

Shining just for you

coriolanus snow x fem! reader

After things get messed up between the two of you at the gala, Corioanus is desperate to fix things between you two again

authors note: guys when i mean desperate i mean DESPERATEEEE

Everyone always said that the C in Coriolanus Snow stood for calculating. What a silly saying, because when it came to you the C in Coriolanus Snow stood for clueless.

The image he built himself as a man who oozes with power crumbles in a matter of seconds around you. You liked it that way, you knew it was just a persona and if life hadn’t pushed him around the way he did he would’ve stayed soft.

When the two of you first met you didn’t fall pity to his charms like the rest of the peers around you. He liked that about you, you were diligent. You had beauty and brains, unlike those lifeless souls that threw themselves at him as they fluttered their eyelashes. He considered himself lucky to call himself yours and he wasn’t afraid to show it either. Every gala he was there right on your arm, and if you didn’t encourage him to go converse with the other party-goers  to others he probably would have stayed there.

You had built a home in Coriolanus’s heart, love was too weak a word to describe his emotions towards you. He didn’t consider himself a violent man, but for you he wasn’t afraid to roughen up the edges of himself. To make his image seem more powerful than it already was, so people would fear him and not even think about hurting you. 

Of course he got invited to many galas, it was only natural considering he had made a name for himself now. Still, he viewed them all as pointless affairs and if you weren’t so fond of going to them he wouldn’t bother to even step foot in the venue. 

Although his signature color is a shade of deep red, he often matched whatever color you were wearing. Tonight it was a cerulean blue to match your dress of the same color. The only thing that stayed the same was the white rose in his handkerchief pocket that eventually ended up behind your ear. 

As you’re finishing up the final touches to your look Coriolanus comes behind you, adjusting the straps of your dress as he leaves soft kisses on your neck.

“Coryo we’re gonna be late-“, you try to protest but he quickly silences you with a soft kiss to your shoulder.

“We can spare a few minutes can’t we darling?”, he cooed.

By the time you manage to drag him to the car sent for you two, you’re already late to the party. Not like Coriolanus cares though, it was time well spent.

Usually when the two of you arrive to any sort of event, he would stick by your side for atleast the first part of it until some buisnessmen or some senator pulled him away. But this time since your arrival was later than usual, the minute you two walked through the doors some of his fellow associates dragged him off to discuss business. You don’t mind much, knowing he has work to do as you walk over to a few friends of your own.

While you enjoy yourself, chatting away like the social butterfly you are, Coriolanus finds the whole event to be tedious and torturous . He wasn’t even paying attention to what his colleagues were saying, too busy stealing glances at you giggling as your friend told a story about her latest date. He’s so intrigued by observing you as if he was stuck in some trance, that he doesn’t notice Aurelia, a woman married to a local senator whom she openly despised, practically throwing herself at him.

He doesn’t snap out of it , not until he feels her red painted lips slightly touch the tip of his ear. The only thing he feels in that moment is utter disgust. The fact that someone other than you attempt to get this close to him was appalling. Did she not see the wedding band on his finger?

After chatting away with your friends for a while, you politely excuse yourself to make your way to Coriolanus since it seems that all his fellow politician friends have now left. Just as you’re about to approach him, you notice her. The woman who is all over Coriolanus, as if she wasn’t married already to another senator and he wasn’t already yours.

You’ve always been the confrontational type, which is why it’s no surprise when you come up right beside them ready to tell Aurelia to back off. Well that was before you overheard her say in that sultry voice of hers, “A man like you shouldn’t be stuck at some flimsy party like this Coriolanus. I bet you want to get out of here don’t you? Y’know my hotel room is better than any party…”

Before Coriolanus responds, you storm out with anger hot on your heels. How dare he. You decide to just go home, taking the car despite Coriolanus still searching for where you went. He can find his own way home. Better yet why doesn’t he get a ride with Aurelia, surely there’s another spot left in her husband’s car.

Your rage doesn’t die down, even as you reach the manor and tuck yourself into bed. You don’t have too much time to notice how empty it seems with Coriolanus’s side of the bed being vacant before he rushes in, his words overflowing out of his mouth. But it’s all a blur to you, tuning him out completely as you shift your body to face the wall while pulling the blanket up.

It’s not until late at night just as you’re about to fall asleep, when you realize he’s begging.

“Darling.. darling please”, he mumbles almost pitiably. He continues desperately kissing your skin with your back still turned to him. “Didn’t even notice what she was doing.. was too busy looking at you”.

You don’t say anything in response and continue staying still, but you’re not pushing him away and Coriolanus takes this as a sign to keep going. “I pushed her away the minute I noticed what she was doing. I would never be unfaithful to you darling, you know that… you’re the only one for me”.

The stubborn part of you wanted to continue to ignore him, but the more reasonable side of you decided to hear him out. “I suppose… I was overreacting just a little bit. Fine”-, you start before you were cut off by his kisses.

“Thank you. Thank you sweetheart… I know I don’t deserve it”, he rasped while leaving little frantic kisses all over your face, “Don’t deserve your forgiveness. Don’t deserve you”.

“Not so stoic and cold are you now Coriolanus Snow?”, you think to yourself. Oh how funny it would be if all his politician friends see how he acted under your finger.

[jamiepaige]

Constant Companions Closeup #1: DYAD

(also on spotify!)

Hello everyone!! It's been a couple weeks and change since Constant Companions, my newest album, was released unto the world, and I've been genuinely blown away by the response. Genuinely, thank you to everyone who's been streaming, commenting, making mashups, changing their pfps and usernames - it means the world to me!

I wanted to give some of that love back with something people have been asking me a lot about - and, admittedly, something I love doing. Song explanations! Deep dives! Dropping the lore! Welcome... to the Constant Companions Closeups...

For the next eleven days, I'll be going into each track one by one and babbling about the process, inspiration, details, feelings, and thoughts behind each one! We're getting sappy. We're bearing our hearts. We're telling unfunny jokes. And we're starting with track one - DYAD (featuring unit.0)!

---

Naturally, since this is the first track, it also serves as a great point to talk about my intention with this album as a whole!

I'll elaborate more on this with future tracks, but to me, there are really two main things that define the sonic progression of this album versus my previous work - guitars and vocal synths. Obviously, these things have been present in my work since I first started calling myself Jamie Paige, but Constant Companions is intended to be my overwrought, sappy confession of love to these two things that time and time again have made me simply want to make music. I love rock and I love Hatsune Miku dammit!!!

I had originally written this song in February of 2023 for a game-jam-esque online festival hosted by my friend Loni called HAPPY PARTY TRI, and at that time, I had found myself at a major crossroads. I had put out People Posture Play Pretend and :women_wrestling: the previous year, and while the response was nice, I was feeling listless and lost.

I love singing. I like my voice well enough. I certainly love writing music with lyrics!! But... there was something uniquely electrifying about using vocal synths. Amidst a lot of insecurity and emotional turmoil surrounding the process of making art and putting myself out into the world, it was one of the few things that just made everything feel right. Suddenly, I was making the same kind of music that had touched my heart so many times over.

Would it alienate people, though? Would I lose longtime listeners? Yes, that weighed on my mind more than I'd like to admit, but even more than that... I was worried I'd lose some part of myself, as silly as it sounds. Maybe what I thought was a bridge would become a barrier, and the messages I wanted to send across the gap would never find their way.

Ultimately, I felt that Dyad was the only kind of opener I could've possibly given this album, and a perfect fit for the album's motif. A dialogue between myself, stricken with loneliness and a lack of inertia running in circles, and that synthesized voice (ANRI Arcane my darling), grabbing the outstretched hand and asking a question I already know the answer to -

"Baby, do you know what you wanna hear?"

Yes, it's a love song, but it's not just for a person - it's a love song for the creative impulse, and for the places I wanted it to take me.

im resisting the urge to be jokingly dismissive of myself to diffuse tension but i still need to signal that the emotionally bare part of this is over so pretend im doing a funny little dance Anyways let's talk more technical stuff

---

Like many of my songs, Dyad came together from a patchwork of different snippets and ideas I had laying around. The back half of the chorus - "dream together, we can dream together" - originally came from this idea I had jotted down something like 9 months prior, but ended up being a perfect fit for Dyad in basically every way. The verse snippet that I'd written to go with it got reused for a later song on Constant Companions as well! (I say without naming it, as if it isn't literally lifted wholesale from this demo and thus incredibly obvious)

I wasn't originally planning on brazenly quoting the bridge of a Tally Hall song when I set out to write this song, but while toying around with a bridge idea involving a shortened version of the pre-chorus melody, I realized I had inadvertently copied it anyways. I was going to scrap it... but at the request of my dear friend and certified Tally Hall lover Marcy Nabors, I made it an explicit reference. Which I'm fine with, personally! The first CD I ever owned was a copy of Marvin's Marvelous Mechanical Museum my sister bought me all the way back in 2006 - You can pry that sentimental attachment from my cold, dead hands, TikTok kiddies.

Lastly - not really behind the scenes so much as just a shoutout - thank you to unit.0 for the lovely lead guitar work on this song!! He's been a beloved collaborator of mine for many, many years now, and one of the people who ultimately convinced me this direction was the right one to go in, so it means a lot to share this song with him. Go listen to his music!!! Now!!!!!!

That's about it for this song! Not to sound like a fucking YouTuber, but genuinely, if there are any details you'd like to hear more about, let me know and I might made a bonus post at the end of all this. Otherwise, thank you for listening! Tomorrow: Not Quite There, featuring telebasher!

❤️💚

[icallhimjoey]

Almost, Always

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: Happy endings aren't for everyone, so it seems, but that doesn't mean that you can't stop trying for one. Question is, are you actually star-crossed lovers that can figure something out, or just absolutely blind to reality and really fucking stupid?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, smut, cheating

Author’s note: it's monday! and fake joe's here for you! he's... not exactly the best, for which i apologise, but, he's all for you, so please, enjoy him fictionally and respect him privately (too much to ask? i hope not?) ok great talk everyone, love you <33 xo

Wordcount: 6.3K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Four days of silence.

Four days of not looking each other in the eye. Of no physical touch. Of not saying a single fucking word.

You moved around each other in a shared space until you had the thought that you were probably better off avoiding each other completely for a little while.

Joe was convinced he had every right to wait for an apology before he’d speak to you again. You, however, obviously heavily disagreed.

You had just been honest.

Joe had asked for you to be honest and so, you had been, but apparently, you’d done it wrong.

It started with an evening of not speaking after an outburst. A silent night routine where you completely avoided one another. Acted like the other person wasn’t even there. You’d thought then that you’d speak in the morning. That you’d talk things out after getting some sleep, because maybe that was the problem.

You slept with your backs facing each other and dreamed of better moods in the morning.

But then the next morning, Joe had gotten up and only made one coffee.

One singular cup of coffee.

He drank it at the kitchen table, looked at you all bitterly like a disappointed parent would look at their child who was ruining their potential, and then left the empty cup there for you to grow even more annoyed at. More than you already were.

That one evening of silence had slowly turned into four days.

You bit your tongue, though. Kept quiet, because Joe did too. Stored the annoyance away. Swept it under the rug, and even though this metaphoric rug was starting to look really lumpy, you pretended you could walk over it fine still.

You then also ignored that this is precisely what the fight had been about. About you shutting up about all the little things that annoyed you. All the small things that didn’t feel worth the effort to say anything about in the moment, because you didn’t want to be a nag.

Things built with you.

Being bothersome was your worst nightmare, so you wouldn’t say anything for ages until then suddenly, on a random afternoon, a teeny tiny drop made the bucket overflow and you’d fall apart at something so stupidly insignificant which would take everyone by surprise.

Would take Joe by surprise.

And it made sense that Joe’s first reaction to your fire would be to light his own. You’d snap and shout, so Joe’d snap and shout right back.

“Babe, you never fucking communicate! It’s always– I’m always guessing with you! Just tell me when something upsets you!”

“I am!”

“Yea now you are! But you’re telling me about shit I said three months ago! What do you want me to change about something I did three months ago?!”

“I don’t want you to change anything– my God! You asked me what’s wrong, so I’m telling you what’s wrong!”

It was always the same fight. And usually, you’d end up saying something so stupid to your own ears it would break the tension and make you laugh. It’d be easy to apologise in those moments, because you knew this was on you, and the warmth coming off of Joe as he’d turn soft at your laughter would always sort of fix things.

“Stop being so silly,” he’d say as he’d hug you. As he’d kiss you on the cheek until your embarrassed grimace, aimed fully at yourself, disappeared.

“Got some moaning left in there?” he’d ask, tapping the side of your head with a finger, making you giggle despite yourself. “Want to go shout into the air from the balcony? Since you’re here now, this is the time to get all of it out.”

That was how it usually went.

And he was right; you could definitely communicate better. Express feelings in the moment rather than hold on to all the negative shit for ages.

Easier said than done, but at least you were aware that you had to stop saving things for another day.  

This time the fight had been different though. There was no eventual humour slipping through any cracks. No secret smiles hidden from each other until you stopped being able to conceal them. No apologies. Zero kind words. Just… anger. And silence.

Joe was waiting for you to break first. For your wrath to turn into something a little softer that he could mould into something more to his liking.

And you were waiting because Joe was waiting. Simple as that.

It didn’t feel fair that every time you’d share negative feelings, Joe would end up calling you silly.

It didn’t feel fair that Joe never apologised for anything.

It didn’t feel fair that, just because you were quiet for a moment as you collected your thoughts, Joe spat, “Silent treatment? All right.” at you.

Four days.

Four days of Joe making a morning coffee just for himself, actively choosing to ignore, and therefore, hurt you.

Four days of his lone empty coffee cup left on the table, which you then didn’t clean, because why the fuck would you, but the sight of it was eating you alive.

You spent four days witnessing petty, childish behaviour from the man who you started believing you needed some space from. A little breathing room. Just until he’d miss you enough to reach out and say sorry, you know?

You wondered if he was thinking the same.

If the silence was also letting his mind wander into those same dark corners yours was exploring.

But then, Joe broke it.

A glass of wine on that fourth night broke it.

It wasn’t exactly an apology, but… it felt like one. You decided it was an apology.

You were sitting on the sofa, tapping away on your phone, talking to Emily about your stupid boyfriend, and she was a good friend, made fun of him effortlessly which really did a good job of making you feel better.

Then, Joe placed a glass of wine down on the coffee table in front of you.

It didn’t fully register at first.

You saw the glass, but assumed it was Joe’s wine that he poured for just himself, and if you were going to want some, you’d have to go and fetch you own.

Mid-typing out a message to Emily about it, you felt Joe sit down next to you, and when you chanced a quick glance, you saw that he was holding a glass of wine himself as he got comfortable and turned on the TV.

Slowly, your phone lowered into your lap, and you stared at that glass of red wine on the table for a moment.

Without warning, your eyes welled up.

He poured that for you.

In the effort to not let Joe notice how this gesture hit you right in the gut, you held your breath until you were shaking, and then a heaving sob burst out of you.

Shit.

You shattered.

Split right down the middle, and burst into pieces with such vigour, you surprised yourself, but surprised Joe more.

He had expected you to pick up the glass and empty it in the sink, or whatever.

Four days was much longer than he thought you’d let this go on for.

His girlfriend was stubborn – he knew that. But four days? Four days was a really fucking long time. And, apparently, four days was long enough for a simple glass of red supermarket wine to make you cry.

The astonishment rendered Joe useless for a moment.

He just looked at you for a moment as you sat with your phone in your lap, head dropped down, and your face covered by both your hands.

This was really fucking embarrassing.

Your legs felt the want to escape the situation before your mind got the chance to catch up. You were up on your feet and wanted to bolt it to the bedroom when you heard Joe put his glass of wine down.

You hadn’t even taken two steps before you got taken hold of by an arm. Pulled into a chest. Held firmly into place.

Going from four days of moving around each other like you didn’t exist to one another, to the very sudden tightest hug you’d received in ages was a lot.

And then Joe placed a hand on the back of your neck and squeezed you gently, making you fucking bawl.

No one apologised.

No one said a word, actually.

But you took whatever that glass of wine was as enough of an olive branch to let yourself be hugged.

Be shushed quietly.

Be gently kissed and softly touched.  

It shouldn’t have counted as an apology, but you’d taken it as one, and Joe had conveniently let you.

Saturday night.

You’re out.

Alone.

You know Emily would have come if you had asked her to, but you hadn’t, because she would’ve likely asked a bunch of questions you didn’t want to answer.

“Where are we going?” “That’s not where we usually go...” “Why are we going there?”

Couldn’t tell her. She’d try her best to talk sense into you. Would try to convince you that this behaviour wasn’t serving anyone in the long term.

And she’d be right.

But you currently don’t really care about the long term.

Short term is where it’s at.

Where all the fun and the excitement lives.

So you’re out. Having drinks at a bar by yourself, and you do your very best fending off any trickle of doubt at your life choices until you see him walk in.

Jackpot.

You fucking knew it.

You pretend you haven’t seen him at all, of course. Continue your chat with the girl behind the bar, until suddenly–

“You know you’ve got the worst timing?”

Joe sneaks up on you.

His voice is low in your ear, and you do your very best to sound as surprised as you possibly can when you gasp a small breath, all innocent. You turn your head to see him over your shoulder, both his hands on your sides as he looks down at you.

“Fancy seeing you here.” You say it like you truly didn’t expect to run into him.

Oscar worthy.

Well. It would have been, had you not both been very aware that you’re exactly where you are for this exact reason. Wearing what you are wearing, drinking what you are drinking. It’s more than a lucky guess that he’d be here tonight.

Joe’s predictable like that.

Men in general are easy like that.

“I’m here with a whole group.” Joe’s making excuses he already knows aren’t going to stop either one of you.  

“Do I know them?”

“No.” Joe answers as he scans your face from the side. God, you look all… glossy.

“Good.” Would’ve been a bit awkward otherwise.

“You better hang around for a bit.” Joe gives you a face, sort of stern, and it’s so comfortable to frown at him. To act all offended. Like it’s not exactly what you want to hear.

“Excuse you, I’m–” you start all aghast, and want to add, I’m seeing someone, which is a lie, but you get cut off by a strong squeeze into your waist from both his hands.

“I’m not joking. Give me… maybe, like, an hour and I’ll come get you.”

You scrunch your nose at him and he gives a small nod, his grin spreading wide, before he turns around and finds the people he came in with.

You’re alone. Single, and having drinks in a bar by yourself, which has every opportunity to feel a little sad, but instead you feel giddy. You predicted you’d run into him, and then you did.

Perfect.

You’re a genius.

After last time, you kind of want Joe to think that you are seeing someone. Just to make you feel like you’ve got the upper hand. Not that it matters. You’ve both made the same wrong choice in similar situations before. But, still. You just don’t want him to win.

Joe joins his friends, and he throws a quick glance back to see you smile into your drink as you take a sip.

Yea. Glossy is the right word, he thinks. He could stare at you all evening.

Fuck.

A whack to his shoulder by one of his friends pulls him into a conversation and momentarily, he shifts into the evening he had planned to have.

He forgets about you for a minute, but never entirely.

It’s like there’s a constant little buzz in the back of his head, and he keeps wanting to look over. See what you’re doing. Who you’re talking to. Who’s talking to you.

Joe’s in trouble.

You do things to him that he can’t entirely comprehend, and that no one before or after you has ever really managed. He doesn’t know what to make of that most of the time, except that the feelings he’s got for you are sort of… big. And scary.

You’re still devastatingly gorgeous to him, he can objectively look at you and think, yea she’s fucking hot, but you also manage to make him laugh. Manage to him feel heard and cared for. Manage to make him forget about all current worries life has on offer for him.

And Joe is generally, just, doomed.

Whatever he had with you had worked for a while and then suddenly it hadn’t anymore. You’d suddenly wanted out, but now… it feels a little like you both want to start over. Like you both want to forget about that chapter of bullshit. Pretend it never happened.

And what’s the problem with that?

Is whatever you are doing now a problem? If it works?

If it doesn’t hurt people, Joe thinks there’s no issue.

But he knows it actually does hurt people. It’s another truth he ignores. Tries to, at least.

There’s no denying the gravitation pulling the two of you closer and closer together until eventually you end up a tangled mess. Like a pair of forgotten earphones left in a coat pocket, too annoying to untie, so instead someone will pull at both ends until the earpieces reach both ears, leaving the wire tangled up even tighter as it sits under their chin.

Even though Joe appreciates the poetic beauty he can find in all of that, he knows he’s got to fucking stop hurting people all the time.

He can’t help his feelings.

But he can help how he treats others.

If he is going to choose to let the general ache of a bad week be soothed by the balm of your presence, he can at least have the decency to not let others presume they’re dating him. Because generally, that’s always been his problem. Joe’s vague and avoidant and all about surface level fun – he never defines anything if he can help it, and he lets others think what they please.

It’s easier that way.

For him, at least.

It’s both a shame and a godsend that this is a part of him that you know through and through. That you see. He doesn’t have to try to hide it, because he knows that it’s of no use with you.

And apparently, it’s fine, because here you fucking are, aren’t you?

He remembers when he thought you were just the same, and remembers how he felt so lucky at first.

A perfect match.

He’d learnt over time, you’re actually very much not the same. But! You had at least some of the same tendencies, and you showing up in this particular bar tonight was enough proof of it.

Joe’s in his group of friends, and they’re all chatting and laughing, and this was meant to be a fun night out, but he might as well just leave right now. His mind is with the girl at the other end of the bar, sat on her own, smiling and chatting to whoever had the courage to strike up a conversation.

Yea.

He’s got more problems.

Forget not wanting to define anything with anyone.

Joe also has to stop banking his entire future on the idea that you want him too.

There’s… there’s a lot of things to ignore.

It should foreshadow that the path he’s going down isn’t good. Isn’t the right one. But... it’s so fun and exciting, he kind of has to know where it leads.

He sighs loudly, a frustrated grumble originating from sheer defeat, and he gives the glass he’s holding a glance. He’ll finish this, and then he’ll fetch you and leave.

About fifteen minutes later, he’s got you under his arm and is leading you outside. Asks, “Yours or mine?” because there’s no need to act coy with you.

You answer, “Yours.” a little too quickly for Joe not to raise an eyebrow at.

You’re walking together, and you’re still fixing your scarf, but your steps are too determined. Too rushed for your quick answer not to hide at least some secrets.

“What, you got anything to hide from me?”

“No–”

“Let’s go over to yours. It’s closer.” he challenges without the intent to actually do so, footsteps still carrying him in the direction of his own flat.

“No, I–”

“Or has Jasper left all of his things strewn about?” Joe couldn’t finish the question before having to twist his mouth in a bid to hide his smile.

You stop walking for just a second, and give him a dead pan stare that transitions into an eye-roll before you flatly say, “All right, good night.” and pretend to turn around to leave.

It makes Joe throw his head back in a laugh, both his arms grabbing at you and pulling you close.

“Mine, okay. Mine.”

And you fall back into step, smiling into your scarf at how you just made Joe’s laugh echo down the street.

Feels good to make Joe laugh.

It’s quiet for a bit, just a short few seconds. Just footsteps on the ground amongst the noises of the city. Somehow, it feels like it drags on, like every second lasts a whole minute, and you can’t help filling it with awkward chat. “No,” you start. “Jasper’s put all of his things where they’re supposed to go.” And you give Joe a pointed look after.

He bites immediately.

“Wha– I always put my things where they’re supposed to go!”

He doesn’t.

You know he doesn’t.

He knows you know he doesn’t.

It’s impossible to forget all of the little things that made the rug look all lumpy. You’d always keep things under there for ages, which gave you a lot of time to quietly lift up corners to examine all the mess.

So you snort, and he stutters through beginnings of words he never finishes to find excuses that don’t exist until you’re both laughing.

Then he says, “Here. I’ll put this thing where it’s meant to go.” And you think it’s just about the cheesiest innuendo ever, but then he takes your wrist in his hand and lets his fingers intertwine with yours.

You look up at him with a pursed smile, but Joe’s already looking right ahead, making sure you don’t bump into anything.

You’re lucky it’s cold enough to blame the flush of your cheeks on the cold wind.

You hold hands all the way to Joe’s flat.

It’s nice.

You also talk about Jasper all the way to Joe’s flat.

That’s less nice.

Joe asks what else Jasper does that he allegedly doesn’t. If he lets you keep your heating on. If he lets you sleep closest to the door. Every question comes out with disdain, like this loser doesn’t know what he’s fucking doing.

And you answer every question with lies. Paint a very pretty picture.

Jasper doesn’t even fucking exist, but you like that Joe thinks you’re taken. That you’re off the market, and that he shouldn’t be taking you home, but still chooses to. You think maybe he wouldn’t have held your hand if he thought you weren’t already spoken for.

However, it doesn’t feel so nice to remember all the things that ruined your relationship with Joe. He just keeps listing a bunch of shit you’d once yelled at him for, and you don’t think he fully understands how it’s bringing the mood down.

Presumably, you’re meant to think it’s funny, so you smile, but all of it sits wrong in your gut. It leaves you with a bitter taste in your mouth that uncomfortably sticks to your tongue and sours your mood a little.

The short-term fun with Joe is meant to be just that. Fun. You don’t want to be reminded of all the reasons why you shouldn’t be going home with him right now. If you did, you’d have taken Emily with you tonight.

You refrain from saying anything, though.

You’re still you, after all.

You just smile and tell Joe that Jasper actually does do all the things that Joe never did, and hope it sparks enough jealousy in him to maybe do something about it.

“Hmm,” Joe says when you turn the corner and his building comes into view. “Jasper sounds... he sounds kind of perfect, doesn’t he?”

He does.

You’ve created the image of a perfect boyfriend. One who you know you’d never actually gel with; you need someone who pushes back a little.

Problem is... Joe knows that too.

Just when the thought crosses your mind that maybe Joe knows you’re making everything up, that you’ve been lying this whole time you’ve been holding hands, Joe confirms your fears.

“Almost too um... almost too good to be true, wouldn’t you say?” he narrows his eyes in suspicion, a smile still playing on his lips.

“Yea, well. Some people are.” you shrug, but know Joe is reading your unsteady body language just fine.

“Sure, sure. Yea. I guess so.” Joe says, and then falls silent.

He knows you’re lying.

Well, fuck.

And then, he lets the silence linger.

Joe doesn’t say anything as he fishes his keys from a pocket and lets you into his building. Doesn’t say anything as he pushes the lift button. Just gives you a little smile, like he’s trying to hold in a chuckle, thinking secret thoughts.

It gets in your hair.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s... no, it’s nothing.”

Joe lets his small smile turn into a fat smirk and it’s starting to get on your nerves. The lift doors open, and you assertively step inside before Joe can give you a small ladies-first gesture.

Joe watches you press the button to his floor before he shakes his head a little and follows you in.

“What?” you ask again, and to that, Joe finally lets a barking laugh out.

“What?” he mimics, feeding off of the brooding bit of bite he can sense growing underneath your skin.

“If you’re trying to piss me off, it’s fucking working.”

“I’m not trying to do anything.” Joe patronises, joy very much still visible in the lines on his cheeks.

He knows you’re single.

He knows there’s no Jasper.

“Hmm.” It’s your turn to narrow eyes at him. “Yea, no. Of course not. You don’t have to try to piss me off, you’re right. You’ve got the skills to auto-pilot your way–”

In a lightning-speed quick move, Joe shuts you up by suddenly getting close enough for you to stumble back against the mirrored panel or the lift. He’s got two hands touching your sides over your coat, firm enough for you to feel them through the thick layers of fabric.

It startles you into silence, and makes you audibly swallow.

You can see from up close how Joe smugly pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, eyes roving over you slowly, and, fuck.

Yea.

Yea. Okay.

It shifts.

All of it is shifting.

The annoyance and slight anger transfers into something else.

Into something a little more raunchy.

You feel a sudden rush down your body from the way Joe’s eyes blaze with intention.

Joe knows you. Bit rash of you to forget.

Just before the lift stills and the doors open behind him, Joe lets his body sway forward a bit to press himself up against you entirely. It makes your breath hitch and stutter. Makes you want to grab hold of the large collar of his coat to pull him down enough so you can kiss him.

But then, in a blink of an eye, he’s gone. Pushes himself off, quickly moves away, walks out of the lift, and leaves you there to catch your breath for a second.

Fucking hell.

Oh, tonight is going to be interesting.

You don’t leave the lift until the doors start closing and you have to quickly launch yourself across to get an arm in front of the sensor. Down the hall you see him disappear into his flat, leaving his door open, and you take rushing steps to follow him inside.

You don’t want to waste any more time.

You want to undress right there on his doormat, despite the bitterly cold temperature you’ve just stepped into.

You want find Joe, who you can hear is already opening and closing cupboards in his kitchen, and just... you don’t know. Jump him, you guess.

That lift moment has made you want to devour him. Made you want to be devoured by him.

But then you close his door and step into his kitchen, and find him at the counter. He’s got his back turned, and is super calmly pouring two glasses of wine.

No urgency.

Zero haste.

He knows what he’s just done to you. Knows the effect that likely must have had. He’s toying with you. Fucking playing.

You drop your coat where you’re standing, right onto the floor. Toe your shoes off to make a pile. You cross your arms and grab hold of the bottom of your top, ready to pull that over your head next, but you pause to watch Joe’s shoulders move under his shirt as he carefully twists and pushes the cork back onto the bottle to seal it.

When he turns around, he leans against the counter, one hand on the edge of it, and in the other he’s holding a nice fat glass of red.

Glass.

One glass.

For a moment you just assume that there’s another hiding behind his back, though it doesn’t even fully register.

You make eye-contact as he takes a slow sip of his drink, and then you slowly pull your top off. It reveals a lacy bra you’re convinced Joe likes the look of.

And you’re right.

Joe halts, and openly stares. Mouth in his wine. Hypnotised. Frozen on the spot. Mind slowly turning to mush.

He’s predictable like that.

Men in general are easy like that.

You take a deep breath, inflating your whole chest, and Joe groans at the sight. The glass of wine gets put back down behind him, and you don’t even think he has taken real sip. Then he takes a few steps to pull a chair from his table.

He holds a hand up that means, one second, and pulls at the fabric of his trousers to give himself a bit more space before he sits down. He shifts a little, settles in, and then leans back with his legs spread wide, both hands behind his head, fingers folded and elbows sticking out.

He takes a deep breath before he gives a small nod that says, carry on.

You bite your teeth into your bottom lip as you smile, because Joe is an idiot, and you let your hands find the button to your trousers to take off next.

Then, suddenly, it lands.

There’s one single glass of wine on the counter.

One.

You stop your movements as you look at it and watch the red liquid inside softly swirl from when Joe put it down.

It takes a second for Joe to follow your gaze, and for him to understand what you’re looking at.

He frowns in confusion a little, looks back at you to see that you’re still staring, and then looks back again, and–

“Oh...”

Your expression has gone cold.

And Joe thinks that maybe he gets it. He isn’t entirely sure, but he’s smart enough to know that the show he had just settled in for is probably going to get cancelled if he doesn’t do anything.

“Did you...”

But he’s not sure what to say. Doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. When you start moving, he thinks maybe he doesn’t have to.

It’s crazy how this feels like it used to feel, before.

But, it’s a little different now, because… there’s nothing at stake. There’s no you to protect. No you two as a couple to preserve.

That stupid single glass of red wine.

You fucking hate it.

And you know it’s sick, you know that you’re not meant to enjoy this, but the feeling of rage bubbling up within you honestly feels kind of good. It’s been a while since you’ve gotten to experience full-body resentment, and have the immediate source of it right there to take it out on.

You want to feel this dark, sticky displeasure.

Feels fucking good.

Joe’s been reminding you of what a shit boyfriend he was to you, which was meant to be ha-ha funny. Joe thought enough time had passed. You had gone from no-contact to two people that bickered for a bit, and then would end up in bed together. It had happened twice already, and you had all the right ingredients to keep this going. The recipe had proven itself delicious, and Joe thought he could just... serve the same meal again.

It’s self-destructive, you know it is, but… you are hungry for it too.

You take a few slow steps and walk over to look at this glass of wine more closely. Joe watches you from his seat, entirely unsure of what to do, and then, without warning, you slowly push the whole thing into the sink.

Red splashes everywhere, and the glass clatters loudly, but it doesn’t break.

Next, you take the bottle into your hands. Look at the label for a moment. Pretend to read it. It’s still pretty full.

Too bad, you think. Such a waste.

You remove the cork, turn around to look Joe directly in the eye, and then tip that over as well. The whole sink colours blood read as you drain the whole thing, and all Joe can do is watch on from his seat.

He doesn’t stop you.

Doesn’t say anything.

Just watches you and feels the energy of the room build.

He’d forgotten how things always build with you.

You’re quite the sight, face reading thunder, standing in his kitchen in your bra, breath deepening with every second that passes.

Joe hates what it does to him inside of his trousers.

When the bottle empties, wine clattering in the sink, Joe sees your face change. Something more… calm seemingly overcomes you. You look... pleased.

“Does that feel justified?” Joe asks, eyes blinking at you.

“Fuck you. Yes it does.”

“Do you have any idea how expensive that was?”

You don’t give a shit how expensive that was, but just because you know Joe does, you want to know.

“Tell me.”

Joe scans your body all the way down and then all the way back up.

“Come here.” Joe holds an arm out and reaches for you.

“Shut up. Tell me.” You’re already making your way over.

“That’s a class A premier grand cru...”

You take Joe’s hand and let him pull you to sit on his lap. To straddle him, thighs spread wide, one leg over each one of his.

“That was a class A premier grand cru.” the words mean nothing to you, you know fuck all about wine, but there’s something glorious about correcting Joe.

“Hmm.” Joe hums as his nose nudges yours, and he lets both hands slide up your thighs until he finds the bits he likes holding most. He uses his grip to pull you in closer and continues, “A blend of merlot, and cabernet franc...” Joe’s French accent is awful. “An award-winning Château Angélus from... from 2016, I think...”

That’s fairly recent, you think. Can’t be that expens–

“Cost me over 500 quid.”

Your eyes darken.

Good.

You wouldn’t pay much more than a tenner for a bottle of the same size.

“Should’ve poured me a glass.”

And it’s only then that the penny drops. That he gets it. You can see it in his eyes. The flush of memories suddenly making it to the forefront of his brain.

The silent treatment.

The coffees he didn’t make you.

The wine he eventually did pour for you.

That one glass of red that temporarily had fixed everything.

Shit.

Joe grimaces. Groans. Squeezes his eyes shut. Feels like an idiot.

“Should’ve poured you a–”

You kiss Joe.

Hard.

Breathe him in, and move in enough for it to almost make the chair tip backwards. You’ve got both your arms around his neck, hips moving over Joe’s lap in a desperate grind, all needy and in search of feeling something.

Fire.

You want to feel the fire.

Momentarily, you think it’s working. That something is catching aflame. You can feel how Joe spreads his legs even wider, bucking his hips upward as he presses himself into you.

Joe is straining in his trousers, and he groans as you figure out the right rhythm to make it feel good with every hip roll, with every back and forth.

You break the kiss to let a moan escape you, head dropping back, and Joe’s mouth finds the skin of your neck to taste. His teeth graze before he kisses as you fiercely move against each other. Louder noises escape you when Joe lets a hand curl around and grab you by the back of your neck.

“Yea? That feel nice?” he pants, and all you can do is bob your head in a barely there nod as you keep moving.

It does feel nice.

Feels really nice.

Not exactly fire, though. You’re both in trousers, fabric rubbing together furiously, dry humping each other like a pair of horny teenagers who haven’t passed third base yet.

So, not fire, but nice none the less.

In contrast, there’s a lot of things Joe’s feeling, and he kind of wants you to know about all of them. Needs to speak them into the air in order to fully process what’s happening inside of his brain.

“Did you know I um… I broke everything off, the next day?” Joe starts, and stops to curse under his breath. “Fuck. Yea, keep going. Shit. Ah... A-after you left, I mean, remember? I had a lot of m-missed calls, so I called her back, and I–”

You shut Joe up with a kiss.

Try to at least.

“We could–” Joe starts again after turning his head and pushing you aside with his nose, both hands spread wide over your thighs as he helps you move over his lap. “Remember, how we really were something?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Try to focus on the feelings inside of your body instead of on the words you don’t want to hear.

“We could be something still.”

“N-no.”

You refuse to acknowledge what Joe’s trying to tell you, but don’t stop your movements. You can’t stop, head dropping back. This all feels too good.

It’s still not fire, though.

There’s no stakes.

You’re both single, and every decision you have made this evening turns out to have been inconsequential.

It’s... it’s almost boring.

But it’s good enough.

You just need a couple more seconds, you can feel it building already.

“We c-couldn’t be somethinhgh...” you choke on your words, unable to finish the sentence.

“Yes,” Joe insists, voice low and breathy, your bodies still moving in tandem. He then uses one hand takes hold of your face by your cheeks, tilting your head down so he can make eye-contact with you for a second.

“Yes we could.” He sounds hopeful as his eyes search yours. “Don’t you get it?”

But your eyes are glassy. They flutter and want to roll back.

Joe knows this look.

Know what this means.

And it’s not like Joe thinks his kind words will really fix anything, but, maybe they will, you know? Maybe. He’s glad he has said them anyway, even though you look like you haven’t even properly heard him.

“You close, baby?”

He switches gears.

“Yea? Come on.” He helps you move with strong arms that press you down a little more, and your arms scramble behind his back in your want to hold onto him tightly.

“There you go.” he coos into your ear, and, it’s not fire, but you come anyway.

Joe should have poured you a glass of wine.

Shouldn’t have brought up bad memories, shouldn’t have tried to be funny about it, and absolutely should have simply gone and poured you a glass.

You pretend that a glass of wine would’ve made a difference tonight.

The difference that you had hoped to find.

That would’ve lit the fire.

Deep down you know that’s not it, but still. The empty bottle is right there, watching you come down from your high, Joe still hard beneath you, and it’s easy to use that as the excuse.

You decide on the spot that Joe’s going to have to deal with what resides inside of his underwear by himself.

You’re done.

Sitting up, you look him in the eye for a short moment and softly but definitively say, “Should’ve poured me a glass.” and press a small kiss to his cheek which Joe gladly accepts.

Because he knows you’re right.

“Should’ve poured you a glass.”

---

The Taglisted

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add yourself

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Just A Prank

Franco Colapinto x Fem!reader

minor angst and a lot of fluff

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

Instagram

F1 and 2 Masterlist

The day began like any other. You and Franco had both slept in, rare and cherished moments of rest squeezed between the constant hum of his career as a Formula 2 driver. Lately, every moment together felt extra special—his season was nearing its end, and with it, the uncertainty of what would come next loomed ever closer.

That morning, you both lounged on the sofa, Franco’s head resting comfortably in your lap as you absentmindedly ran your fingers through his messy dark hair. You could feel the quiet rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his body leaning into yours. He seemed unusually relaxed, but you could also sense an underlying tension—like he was holding something back.

“Do you want to go out for a walk later?” you asked, trying to pull him out of his pensive silence.

Franco looked up at you, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I’d rather stay like this for a bit longer,” he murmured, leaning up to steal a kiss. “Besides, who knows when I’ll get the chance to do this again.”

“Franco, don’t be so dramatic,” you chuckled, but his words stirred something inside you. You both knew the competitive nature of racing, the constant push to perform, and the slim chances of moving up to Formula 1. He’d been hoping, of course, but you could feel the weight of the uncertainty. It had been pressing on both of you, silent and unspoken.

As the day wore on, you found yourself nestled in the little routines that made life with Franco feel so complete: cooking breakfast together, debating which show to watch, laughing over silly inside jokes only the two of you understood. The hours passed, and you found comfort in his presence, a sense of home you never thought you’d find so soon in life.

Then, in the early afternoon, Franco’s phone rang. The sharp sound cut through the quiet, and he tensed immediately.

“Hold on, amor,” he said softly, his brow furrowing as he glanced at the screen. “It’s my boss… I need to take this.”

You watched him slip into the next room, closing the door behind him as he answered. You felt your heart rate pick up, your mind running through a million scenarios. You knew he’d been anxiously awaiting some news about next season, but he hadn’t said much—always downplaying it, always acting like it was no big deal. Yet you could tell it mattered to him more than he let on.

Minutes ticked by, each one dragging longer than the last. You strained to hear snippets of his voice, but it was muffled behind the door. Your stomach churned with nerves, and you hugged a pillow to your chest, wondering what could possibly be taking so long.

Finally, he emerged, his face unreadable. You searched his expression, looking for any hint of what he’d heard, but he just sighed, walking toward you with a faint smile.

“So…” he said, plopping down beside you, trying to look nonchalant. “Looks like next season… they’re, uh, bringing someone else in to replace me.”

The words landed like a stone in your chest. “What?” you whispered, wide-eyed with disbelief. “Franco, no—there’s no way! You’ve been amazing this season! Who would they possibly bring in that’s better than you?”

He shrugged, looking away, his face somber. “Apparently they want a different direction or something.”

Anger bubbled up inside you, your face heating as you struggled to keep your composure. “I’m sorry, but that’s insane. You’ve worked so hard, Franco. You don’t deserve this! It’s not fair!”

Franco bit his lip, struggling to contain a grin. You were too furious to notice.

“I’ll call them,” you continued, clenching your fists. “I’ll go down to the paddock myself if I have to and demand answers. They don’t realize what they’re giving up.”

“Y/N,” Franco interrupted softly, his voice trembling slightly with laughter, “it’s a joke.”

You froze, trying to process his words. “A… a joke?” you repeated, blinking in confusion.

He laughed, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you into his embrace, his whole body shaking with laughter. “Yes, cariño, a joke! They didn’t replace me. They actually… called me up. I’m going to F1.”

For a second, you couldn’t speak. Relief and shock hit you in equal measure, a tidal wave of emotions threatening to spill over. You blinked, your mind racing to catch up. “Wait, Franco, are you serious?”

He nodded, his eyes shining with excitement, a look you’d never seen before. “I am. I didn’t want to get my hopes up until I knew for sure. But yes… I’m moving up to Formula 1.”

“Franco!” you gasped, grabbing his face in your hands as the reality of it set in. Pride, love, and pure joy swelled in your heart, and you leaned in, pressing a fierce, grateful kiss to his lips. “I’m so, so proud of you.”

He grinned, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. “So… do you still want to go to that fancy dinner? I think I could use a celebration.”

You didn’t need any more convincing. After changing into something special for the occasion, you spent the rest of the evening out together, every laugh and glance shared over the candlelit table a reminder of the journey you’d both been on together, and the exciting path that lay ahead. It felt surreal, like a dream you both dared not wake up from.

The restaurant was perfect—a quiet, candlelit spot with a warm ambiance, the kind of place where you felt like the world outside melted away. It was just you and Franco, tucked into a cozy booth with glasses of deep red wine glinting in the soft light. You both had eyes only for each other.

As you sat down, Franco took your hand, his fingers warm and familiar as they laced through yours. He began tracing soft, invisible circles on the back of your hand with his thumb, a simple gesture that sent gentle shivers up your spine. You caught yourself smiling, wondering if he realized just how much these little touches meant to you.

“Who are you most excited to see on the grid?” you asked, playfully narrowing your eyes at him. You knew he had a few favorite drivers, people he looked up to and couldn’t wait to work alongside. The mere thought of him among the ranks of those he admired filled you with pride.

“Ah, I can’t lie,” he said with a grin, leaning closer. “It has to be Alonso. To think that I’ll be racing alongside him… It still doesn’t feel real. And Verstappen, too—I’ve watched them since I was a kid, you know? To be up there with them, fighting for positions on the same track…” He shook his head, a little awestruck, and you could see the light in his eyes, that spark of a dream coming true.

You squeezed his hand, feeling his excitement wash over you like a wave. “It’s everything you’ve worked for, Franco. And you deserve it more than anyone.”

He gave you a bashful smile, a flicker of vulnerability in his expression. “I’d never have made it here without you, Y/N. You’re my biggest supporter, and that means the world to me.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” you murmured, brushing his cheek softly. “It’s just… I’m so happy to see you finally getting what you’ve dreamed of. It’s going to be incredible, Franco.”

The two of you settled into an easy rhythm of talking about the future—where he’d be traveling, who he’d meet, the circuits he was most excited to race on. He laughed as he recounted stories of watching past races as a kid, how he’d imagined himself on those tracks, feeling every turn and straight as if he was already there.

“To celebrate,” he began, leaning back with a mischievous smile, “we should travel somewhere just for us. No circuits, no media. Just the two of us, like old times.”

Your eyes lit up. “Like a real holiday?”

He nodded. “Exactly. We could go somewhere quiet, off the grid. A beach, maybe. Just us, some sunshine, no worries.”

“Let’s do it,” you said, a smile spreading across your face. “After your first race, we’ll sneak away and have our own little victory tour.”

Franco laughed, shaking his head. “It’s a date, then.” He raised his glass in a toast, and you clinked yours against his, both of you laughing, a gentle warmth in the air as the wine brought out the color in his cheeks.

As he sipped, he looked at you thoughtfully. “What about you, Y/N? This is going to be a huge change. Are you ready for all the travel, the media, the madness?”

You felt his fingers lace through yours a little tighter, a look of genuine concern crossing his face. You took a breath, holding his gaze. “Franco, I’ll follow you anywhere. This is your dream, and I want to be there to support you every step of the way. I’ll be right there, cheering you on, reminding you to eat, helping you decompress after every race. Whatever you need.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, his face softening, his eyes full of that love that had been there from the beginning. “I’m the luckiest guy alive, you know that?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but your voice caught as you noticed something over his shoulder. At a table just across the room, seated side by side with familiar expressions of pride and warmth, were your parents. They were dressed for the occasion, looking right at you with knowing smiles, raising their glasses in your direction.

“Wait… are those… my parents?” you whispered, glancing back at Franco, utterly bewildered. “What are they doing here?”

But when you turned back to him, Franco was no longer in his seat. Instead, he was down on one knee beside you, his warm hand still holding yours. In his other hand, he held a small, velvet ring box, his face a mixture of nervousness and undeniable love.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice soft yet steady. “From the moment I met you, I knew you were something special. You’re my best friend, my rock, and the reason I’ve been able to dream as big as I have. I can’t imagine facing any of life’s twists and turns without you by my side. I want to spend every lap of this life with you. Will you marry me?”

Tears welled up in your eyes, the enormity of the moment crashing over you. You could feel the warmth of his hand still holding yours, the love in his gaze steady and unwavering. You could only nod, whispering, “Yes, Franco. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

The restaurant broke into applause as he slid the ring onto your finger. He rose to his feet, pulling you close, and you laughed through your tears, burying your face in his shoulder as the joy of it all overflowed. It felt as though time had stopped, as though the two of you were the only people in the room.

When you pulled back, your parents were there, wrapping you in hugs, congratulating you both. You looked back at Franco, his eyes never leaving yours, that same quiet joy radiating from him.

In that moment, you knew that no matter where this life took you, every twist and turn would be worth it because you’d be facing them together.

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @xoscar03 @jess-wither @bountychanti @dhanihamidi @tellybearryyyy @a-panseuxalmess @love-simon @tallrock35 @iiaik0ii @Milkyymelanine @ilovsyou3000morgan @styl1shl1v @eddieharrington @hellowgoodbye

[thydungeongal]

I've been recommended by the algorithm a surprising amount of your posts about 5e and while I do agree to some degree to them, they were also been made in the span of less than 2 weeks. They were also negative about 5e and the community (again, I agree).

But you know that there are other ttrpg other than 5e, and that you don't need to constantly wallow into (what I presume you think is) the raw sewage that is the game and the community? At this point your blood is so stuck into your hate-boner that you're risking brain damage due to the lack of blood flow.

You have better-than-average takes, I'm giving you the ttrpg version of "Go outside and touch grass"

When I write things critical of D&D 5e or for that matter any RPG I'm not frothing at the mouth angry about the game but simply sharing my observations. You're just hella projecting what you think I must have been feeling when I wrote those posts which is a pretty silly assumption of you to make. I genuinely just enjoy thinking about games and posting even though my opinions are often critical and I do have a tendency to be polemic in my tone it's just a fun hobby for me. So like. Maybe stop being silly.

[halfwayhearted]

can you make a lamine boyfriend headcanons <333

Boyfriend Lamine Yamal Headcanons! ^_^

“don’t forget to kiss me.” / “or else you’ll have to miss me.”

Boyfriend Lamine Yamal who… comes up with silly ideas like having a ‘push-up contest’, knowing all he actually wants are compliments from you.

“Lamine, I already gave up. You can stop.”

“Okay… okay.” A breath. “How many did I do?”

“A lot! I’ve been impressed. Good job.”

Boyfriend Lamine Yamal who… will not take a normal picture. He always has to move, talk through it, or strike a random pose that doesn’t fit the picture’s aesthetic at all. It irks you, but it’s whatever.

Boyfriend Lamine Yamal who… loves going on vacation with you. He has fun regardless, though he knows he’ll have even more fun if you’re there.

Boyfriend Lamine Yamal who… tries to include you in literally everything. Practicing with Keyne? He’s calling you over so you can watch them play. However, the boy finds himself having to stop when his brother gets distracted by something.

Boyfriend Lamine Yamal who… compliments you daily. Even if you think you look bad, he’s making sure you know he doesn’t think that at all. Never will.

Boyfriend Lamine Yamal who… can’t plan anything for the life of him. When you’re talking about future dates and what he thinks of them, his only response is that he doesn’t care. As long as he’s with you, he’s a content man, as Lamine puts it.

Boyfriend Lamine Yamal who… is unable to keep his hands to himself. Or, actually, any part of him. You’ll always have your hair ruffled by him, feel the palm of his hand running over the side of your face, or even have him bumping the side of his body into yours. “Do it again and I’ll freak out.”

Boyfriend Lamine Yamal who… wants to dance almost all the time if a song he likes starts to play. It doesn’t matter if you don’t want to; you’re joining him, even when you tell him you won’t be good.

Boyfriend Lamine Yamal who… has a tendency to pull you close after any minor inconvenience. You’re annoyed at him? Yeah, well, he’s pulling you toward him. Excited? He’s already reaching for you. Upset? He’s not only holding you tightly, he’s also murmuring words of comfort that lighten your mood. A smile gracing your lips in seconds.

Boyfriend Lamine Yamal who… can be serious despite always joking around. His love for you is real.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @planetpedri + @spidybaby ! ౨ৎ

[ari-cuno]

A little drabble I wrote after some inspiration and a little break between drawing some art <3

I just wanted to experiment and see how an interaction like this would go between them. It was supposed to be angst but I couldn't help changing it a bit. >3<

Please let me know if I did the couch potato justice @zu-is-here and if there's anything else I could've done better!

“Aim…” Axel mumbled, looking as if he were ready to crumble or disappear from the anxiety in his soul. It formed a painful lump, making his words struggle to come out properly. But under all that was the undying love and trust of the man before him. In all his unconditional love there was still part of him that needed to know, it needed to know that Aim was truly there, and that he was his, no matter how murky the waters they swam in were. Of course it was a silly question though. He knew that answer well enough. Aim was his, but…was Axel himself Aim's? 

“...I need you, Aim.” His voice finally managed to say. “...But I don't know if you need me.” He admitted quietly, his voice suddenly breaking.

Aim, sitting on the other side of the bed, turned to look at the distressed skeleton, offering him a look of comfort with some sort of humor attached to it. “What do ya mean? Of course I need you.” He said, sounding slightly surprised by how the shorter skeleton only seemed to look sadder at his reply. 

“...No- just- ugh! You don't understand!” Axel cried out as he sat on the opposite side of the bed. “You seemed so fine before I came back to find you. Part of me wonders if I'm being selfish by asking so much of you. You don't owe me your companionship. But…but I want it, I crave it, and I crave you.” He said, looking frustrated. 

“...Heh, you have no idea how nice it is having you around.” Aim said, laying back on the mattress, his arms resting above his head. That response made Axel look at him with surprise. 

“If anything I probably need you more. I mean, I must've been really stuck in your head to make you come back after so long. Like a rattle in your skull?” He said in a lighthearted tone, watching Axel's face flush as he looked away. 

“Hm…something like that.” Axel said quietly. 

“This whole thing between us isn't bad. You've already done so much for me and-” Aim paused, noticing the little glitter from a tear that streamed down Axel's cheek. Oh no, had he said something wrong? 

“You're right. You have been stuck in my head forever, and you have no idea how great it was to see you again, but…I don't want to push my feelings on you like this.” Axel said quietly, letting out a little laugh through a few sobs. 

“Stars…oh stars…how are we going to make this work?” He said meekly, voice full of raw vulnerability and sorrow. His soul fluttered intensely in his chest any time he laid eyes on the man before him, couch-potato and lazy-bones aside. 

“Axel, you're crying-” Aim tried, sitting up. 

“Of course I am…this is never going to work!” Axel cried out, trying to wipe his tears away. “I can't even kiss you-”

“You can.” Aim replied. 

“...what?” Axel said, lifting his head up to look at him, surprised by his answer. Aim looked at him with a more genuine smile. “Is that why you are so upset? Are you afraid to ask me for a hug or a kiss?” The larger skeleton asked with a little grin. 

“I might not get it, but we're a team. One member just can't pull all the weight, I'm too heavy for you to be carrying all the weight of us. I can try my best for you if it will make you happy, just ask. There's nothing wrong giving back to my ‘partner’, eh?” Aim grinned, winking under his goggles. 

Axel stared, the glitchy skeletons gaze was  less upset, and more just shocked and moved by his words. “...you'd…you'd do that for me? Aim please…your boundaries, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable.” He said gently, trying to be careful with his wording. 

“Oi! I don't mind as long as you're happy by the end of it, I gotta keep the hand who feeds me happy, don't i?~” 

Axel rolled his eyes, sighing. He wiped the tears from his eyes, taking in a steady breath to calm himself. “Well…” he said, moving closer to Aim, their bodies close in contact. 

“...I've always wanted to see you without your goggles. The real you. I miss your beautiful eye lights. Please…let me see you.” Axel whispered, shifting his potion, sitting right in front of Aim as he reached out to the ever important goggles that hid Aim's orange eyelights. 

Aim seemed to hesitate, looking unsure as Axel grabbed the edges of his goggles with care. “Heh…they really haven't changed much.” He said, struggling to keep the smile on his face. “Are you sure it's worth your time?” The larger skeleton asked. 

Axel frowned, lifting his goggles above his head gently. “...I'm sure.” He said firmly, cupping Aim's face with his hands, lifting himself up and settling amongst his partner's lap. He moved his face closer to Aim's, a small smile of appreciation and adoration flashing across his face. He was warm, very warm, and the way his eyelights stared back at him caused Axel's soul to flutter intensely with delight. 

He leaned it, pressing his nose against Aim's, an affection nuzzle. “...Is this okay?” He asked after a few tense moments of silence, staring into Aim's face. The other skeleton seemed quite relaxed, his eye lights faintly illuminating the space between them like a dim light, a small light compared to the blue hue spread across Axel's face.

“Of course.” Aim said calmly, “...you know, you're actually pretty light, heh.” He teased. 

“Feeling better?” Aim asked for a few moments, the warmth between them being pleasant, like a warm blanket on a cold day. Axel hesitated, his hands resting on Aim's chest as he let them go from his face. 

“...May I kiss you?” Axel asked, before stopping to think for a second. “-and more?” He asked with an added huskiness to his voice, his soul beating heavily against his ribcage in a flurry of emotions. 

“Sure.” Aim said simply, leaning back. His simple response caught Axel off guard. Stars, did he really trust him that much? Axel looked starstruck, staring at Aim with sparkling eyes full of a swirl of positive emotions, the tears on his face long dry. 

Aim noticed, looking a little concerned, “You alright-?” He questioned, before he was cut off, his words swallowed up as Axel leaned in, pressing their mouths together in a soft, delicate motion. Axel held himself there for several moments, his breath held as he made contact with Aim, a warmth spreading over him, and a warmth he missed once he pulled away. 

His voice came out in a soft tone, full of emotion. 

“....Everything is fine.”

[leclerc-s]

track six - i can still make the whole place shimmer

series masterlist

JAPAN 2023

QATAR 2023

ines_alonso and charles_leclerc posted to close friends

so proud of you oscarpiastri, sucks that i can't be there with you the only way to celebrate a third championship and a maiden sprint win. this can only go wrong from here monopoly has been cancelled after someone nearly broke the table when he got beat

CHARLES' BIRTHDAY

ines_alonso and oscarpiastri posted new stories

he actually liked this cake, don't listen to whatever oscar has to say birthday boy 🥳🩷 an artist at work...i actually don't know what's she's trying to make

oscarpiastri and ines_alonso posted new stories

inés said we were on a time crunch, now i've lost her inside a flower shop and she's not answering her phone. send help. sos. birthday boy seems to have something devious planned second birthday cake was a success!!!

liked by charles_leclerc, isahernaez, pedri and others

ines_alonso feliz cumpleaños amorcito!! here's to spending more by your side (with osc of course) for many more years 🩷🎉

tagged: charles_leclerc

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charles_leclerc oh mon soleil, i might start crying again. please don't do this to me.

oscarpiastri you'll cry regardless charlie charles_leclerc stop being mean to me, it's my birthday oscarpiastri i got you a cake, that's enough user01 their love language is bullying each other

user02 had to sneak oscar in there somehow

user03 inés loves both her boys. i'm convinced she will never shut up about them user02 i fear you may be right bestie

oscarpiastri happy birthday booger 🧡

charles_leclerc thank you stinker ❤️ pedri i will never understand how this dynamic works arthur_leclerc mate it's been years and i still don't understand it. half the time i'm convinced they hate each other. oscarpiastri it's our love language arthur, leave us alone.

isahernaez feliz cumple charlie 🎉

charles_leclerc gracias isa 😊 user04 brother lost even his ex-girlfriend in the divorce to charles user05 not only is he not winning races but he's also not winning life, shit must suck for him. user06 he just became the only non redbull winner of the entire season, put some respect on his name louieee bitch won the race at the sacrifice of his own teammate, we'll put respect on his name when he fucking earns it. user07 besides this post is about charles, not his fucking whiny ass teammate

user08 i want to know what the product of that picture charles was taking in slide 2

user09 he's the embodiment of that proud boyfriend meme user10 he's just a silly little goofy guy

fernandoalo_oficial feliz cumpleaños to that french guy or whatever

charles_leclerc you sent me an entire paragraph telling me happy birthday this morning you're not fooling anyone fernandoalo_oficial that was supposed to be a secret tonto charles_leclerc oops

jensonbutton HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHARLES!! 🎉🎉 YOU'RE SO OLD NOW!!

charles_leclerc THANK YOU OLD MAN!! user11 the difference between fernando and jenson's comments is so fucking funny to me

maxverstappen1 drinks are on the birthday boy this weekend

charles_leclerc you people are animals when you drink. i should be getting free drinks not the other way around alex_albon well for my birthday i was forced to pay, so you should have to pay this weekend charles_leclerc this a hate crime against me

user12 i can't believe charles is 26, it feels like just yesterday he was starting out as a rookie at sauber

user13 STOP! YOU'RE MAKING ME FEEL OLD!! user12 your bio says you're 16? how the fuck does that make you feel old?? user13 IT JUST DOES OKAY?! DON'T QUESTION ME!

patriciooward FELIZ CUMPLE CABRON!!

charles_leclerc GRACIAS PATITO!! user14 i've seen enough scuderriaferrari get this guy into your car as carlos' replacement. he speaks spanish too user15 and charles actually likes this one

ximena.gomez feliz cumpleaños charlie!!

charles_leclerc gracias ximena! inés said to ask you about the thing ximena.gomez the answer is still no charles_leclerc one chance, just one chance that's all she asks

TEXAS 2023

liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, francesca.cgomes and others

ines_alonso there's no weekend like austin gp weekend (this message was paid for by daniel ricciardo) (p.s. please wear your fucking boots right. the jeans go on the outside not tucked inside the boots)

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francesca.cgomes you know what they say, save horse ride a cowgirl

ines_alonso yeehaw!! charles_leclerc please stop flirting with her oscarpiastri you're never beating the allegations ines_alonso WHAT ALLEGATIONS?? francesca.cgomes that the boys are a cover up for our super secret romance. ines_alonso oh that, no, that is true pierregasly STOP THIS MADNESS!!

user16 how i love women

charles_leclerc i feel like this is directed towards me...

ines_alonso that outfit is atrocious and i never want to be in your presence when you wear it. justice for andrea. charles_leclerc OSCAR SAID IT LOOKED GOOD! ines_alsonso OSCAR WEARS T-SHIRTS AND SHORTS AND CALLS IT A DAY, NEVER LISTEN TO HIM maxverstappen1 mate, i'm afraid oscar lied to you oscarpiastri i live to see him make an embarrassment of himself in public. charles_leclerc you're sleeping on the couch when we get home alex_albon that's an upgrade from when your drunk ass made him sleep on a piece of turf on your balcony last year landonorris why the fuck am i never invited to anything? first it was the group bowling and now this party? danielricciardo he-who-shall-not-be-named is your friend louieee because you're a snitch bitch that's why asshole logansargeant in their defense the party was before bowling and no one wants to party with peter pettigrew or lord voldemort user17 the harry potter references i'm dying

user18 so are we supposed to act like you didn't embarrass yourself in front of patrick dempsey?

ines_alonso if we could do that, that would be great thanks user18 oh girl, that's going to haunt you for the rest of your life.

danielricciardo thank you inés i'll be venmoing you $150 later today

ines_alonso pleasure doing business with you mr.ricciardo logansargeant he's actually paying you?? he told me i would get a shoutout on his .jpg account ines_alonso i'm his favorite logan, you should know this logansargeant doesn't mean i should like it

jensonbutton i had a blast this weekend, i enjoyed watching you lose your shit on danica patrick this weekend.

ines_alonso you're ass is such a shitstirrer, i'm telling my dad! jensonbutton he sent me an audio of him cackling for a straight 3 minutes. his ass enjoyed that too user18 this is my favorite daughter and step-father duo user19 jenson button is not a step father but the father that stepped UP

lilymhe the cutest cowgirl ever

ines_alonso oh stop it, i'm actually blushing oscarpiastri unfortunately she is actually blushing. charles is glaring at her from across the room lilymhe damn charles_leclerc i took your girl charles_leclerc fight me lily alex_albon come get your girlfriend she's being irrational again alex_albon mate, we are not having this debate ever again. they're in love, let them be. charles_leclerc you're literally no fucking help

user20 love how inés, kika, and lily flirt with each other to piss off the boys

user21 alex is just resigned to the fact that they do this, charles and pierre absolutely lose it every time, meanwhile oscar just lets them have fun to see charles lose it everytime. user22 inés and oscar live for tormenting charles and i love that user20 it's the difference between gen z's born in the 00's to the 90's is so noticeable between the three of them.

MEXICO 2023

BRAZIL 2023

liked by lilymhe, kellypiquet, patriciooward and others

ines_alonso a little photo dump for the girlies as we head into the final race of the triple header

tagged: charles_leclerc, fernandoalo_oficial, oscarpiastri, lewishamilton, maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, alex_albon, lilymhe

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patriciooward nano and honey make a reappearance!!

louieee she's kept them hidden from us for too long ines_alonoso they're camera shy

alex_albon i've missed my godchild nano!!

maxverstappen1 that's my godchild albon! ines_alonso ladies, please, you're both nano's god father alex_albon um, i'm more qualified to take nano if a 'tragic' accident were to happen to any of you maxverstappen1 i have two cats alex, you have a fucking farm, we are not doing this. ines_alonso i've made a horrible mistake

charles_leclerc where's the picture of my mexico podium??

oscarpiastri maybe win a race then she'll post you charles_leclerc you won a sprint! not an actual race! oscarpiastri I STILL WON!

arthur_leclerc i see there's no mention of me taking that 6th picture?? where is my credit alonso??

ines_alonso we bought you dinner and yet you still found a way to complain about taking one picture arthur_leclerc you try fourth-wheeling you, dumb, and dumber louieee it's dumb, dumber, and dumbest maxverstappen1 wait but who's who? oscarpiastri charles is clearly dumbest charles_leclerc this is why people think you hate me oscarpiastri haven't you heard, we're the second coming of seb and mark. multi-21 2.0 incoming alex_albon it was very clearly multi-21 (lovers edition) oscar user23 mark is probably shitting himself seeing this comment oscarpiastri i can confirm that

user24 just a pretty girl with her pretty boyfriends

user25 how to get inés alonso to blush 101 ines_alonso wrong! it's how to get three idiots to blush

kellypiquet i see the picture of the broken table didn't make it to the photo dump

ines_alonso we're never playing monopoly again maxverstappen1 if someone hadn't cheated the table would've never broke! georgerussell63 I DIDN'T CHEAT, YOU JUST SUCK! alex_albon YEAH, TELL HIM GEORGE! user26 i feel like we're missing some important lore here pierregasly post championship and sprint win monopoly is great, until someone (max) breaks the table patriciooward don't forget to specify that it's drunk monopoly alex_albon i feel like i would remember if you were there? patriciooward oh, i wasn't there in person but i was there via facetime. all of you were so fucked up that you don't even remember it

user27 i don't know what's more surprising max breaking a table, george cheating (allegedly) at monopoly, or all of them ending up so drunk they don't remember anything besides a broken table??

user28 definitely the broken table. user29 yeah, the drunkenness is expected from them so is george facing cheating allegations in monopoly.

fernandoalo_oficial i did not give my consent to having that picture posted

ines_alonso too bad old man. you snooze, you lose. user30 the world may be calm (not really) but you can count on inés and fernando always being their chaotic selves

logansargeant this is logan sargeant erasure

ines_alonso oh sorry, the whole world must know i bought you a single shot after your point in austin logansargeant well now i feel bad because it came at the expense of lewis... charles_leclerc what about me?! i'm the reason you got the point! logansargeant you said you wouldn't watch hamilton with me again... charles_leclerc fine, we can watch hamilton again logansargeant 😄😄 user31 a duo i didn't know i needed

danielricciardo is that the picture max and i took when you fell asleep?

ines_alonso yes, i'm never leaving my phone unattended with you two maxverstappen1 that's a consequence that comes with flying airmax, deal with it baby alonso louieee BABY ALONSO!!! ines_alonso oh no, that's going to stick isn't it?? estebanocon they've been calling you baby alonso behind your back for years. jensonbutton we've been calling you baby alonso since 2015 ines_alonso oh my god

lilymhe thank you for beautifully capturing my relationship with alex

ines_alonso you're welcome my love 🩷 alex_albon i'm right here lilymhe shhh alex, it's okay, you're my one and only (sometimes) alex_albon WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN?! ines_alonso it means that whenever you piss her off she runs to me and kika francesca.cgomes it's true, we kick oscar and charles out of the apartment and force them to spend the night with pierre alex_albon STOP MAKING ME SEEM LIKE A BAD BOYFRIEND! ines_alonso you're a good boyfriend alex, we're just teasing. (got to get ahead of the media)

VEGAS 2023

liked by sabrinacarpenter, louieee, alex_albon and others

ines_alonso a week spent in los angeles and las vegas. met some new friends and hung out with some old friends

tagged: charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, sabrinacarpenter, schecoperez, logansargeant, alex_albon, lilymhe, jensonbutton, joris__trouche

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maxverstappen1 where the fuck am i?

ines_alonso bitch, you won every race this season, let other people have a chance maxverstappen1 YOU HAVE CHECO ON HERE!! schecoperez me odias o qué? maxverstappen1 no, do not put words in my mouth checo!

user32 ariana (sabrina) what are you doing here?

user33 talk about an unexpected crossover user34 the most unexpected friendship to come out of the 2023 season

louieee ooh, we look so cute

ines_alonso yeah we do!! louieee 🩷🎀

charles_leclerc i'm still mad at you...

oscarpiastri maybe you shouldn't go around telling us to call you charles leclerc-verstappen maxverstappen1 well now i'm max leclerc-verstappen redbullracing max, we can't do this again, the rumors just stopped oscarpiastri i know where you live scuderiaferrari here we go again (the rumors never stopped) mclaren oscar, please refrain from threatening fellow drivers user35 they're just so tired of having to pr train oscar user36 we're talking about the kid who willingly admitted he pushed inés off the track when they were karting because they had a bet going on and he didn't want to lose

sabrinacarpenter it was a delight to meet you and sharles

ines_alonso enough to get a nonsense outro?? sabrinacarpenter woah, take me out on a date first ines_alonso name a time and place baby 😏 charles_leclerc i can fight... oscarpiastri i can laugh as you take charles down... sabrinacarpenter oscar's my favorite now charles_leclerc of course he is

jensonbutton WHERE DID YOU GET THAT PICTURE??

ines_alonso it's a screenshot from the sky sports broadcast. it's the face i make whenever i'm forced to work with that woman jensonbutton oh my god ines_alonso it's my favorite f1 meme now

charles_leclerc now that i'm no longer upset, you look beautiful ma belle 🩷

ines_alonso thank you bebe ❤️ user37 he's trying to get back in her good graces guys oscarpiastri ass kisser charles_leclerc YOU WON'T LET ME GET A DOG alex_albon jeez oscar, let the guy get a dog oscarpiastri HE'S THE ONE WHO SAID NO MORE PETS AFTER HONEY!

logansargeant LET'S GO!! I'M OUT OF THE TRENCHES!!

patriciooward FROM THE TRENCHES WE RISE!! user38 now this, this is my favorite duo inés alonso has given us

lilymhe i look great and alex is there

francesca.cgomes she's everything and he's just ken ines_alonso the realest comment here sabrinacarpenter girls who are everything and boyfriends who are just ken pierregasly our job is just car

joris__trouche he did not want to let go of mimi

ines_alonso he genuinely cried when we left charles_leclerc STOP EXPOSING ME!! oscarpiastri you called me sobbing because you were leaving mimi behind maxverstappen1 just get him a dog oscar oscarpiastri he dug his own grave max

user39 the random jenson meme is sending me

user40 the fact that both of them have pulled the same face while working with d*nica user41 they're further proving the buttlonso lovechild allegations because i feel like fernando has also pulled the same face. user39 oh my god you're so right

francesca.cgomes just a pretty girl living her best life

ines_alonso i'm blushing oscarpiastri can confirm she is blushing charles_leclerc i'm so done. user42 free my guy user42 not from the relationship but from his partners (inés) flirting with the girls (kika, lily, sabrina) user43 nah, my guy brought this onto himself by flirting with max verstappen at every single fucking opportunity liked by ines_alonso and oscarpiastri

¡taglist!

@minmira95 // @lesliiieeeee // @vroomvroommuppett // @prongsvault // @justtprachisblog // @scuderiadevils // @cataf1 // @chezmardybum // @formulaal // @lilsiz // @norstappenvibes // @ironspdy // @nikfigueiredo @hinamesgigantica // @niniluvsainz // @matchaverse // @fakeikeastore // @theseus-jpg // @six-call // @81folklore // @emppusofi // @luvsforme // @nichmeddar // @loloekie // @luvpedro // @donttouchthegnote // @nothaqks // @inferiusreggie // @mochimommy2002 // @rach3164 // @clove08 // @clove0 // @lillysbigwilly // @jenxjar // @blupblupfish // @thereadinggremlin05 // @meowiarty // @magical-spit // @camdensreg // @laneyspaulding19 // @ocyeanicc // @yelenasloverrrrr // @percervall // @blushmimi // @spilled-coffee-cup // @greantii // @ietss // @yeanoskrrt // @brakingboundaries

¡not taggable!

@ashlovestoread1411 // @books-thingys-andstuff // @ale-522 // @aandreea_2005 // @Katness1 // @mgmoore // @Scott-McCall-could-lift-mjolnir // @xxx-betty // @ririyulife // @landonorizzz // @moldyshorts1997 // @itstimeforutogo // @yar16 // @em-andemm // @killjoycra // @◇Heart- Trees◇ //@michelleyw81

¡leclerc-s speaks!

unfortunately with the current state of the us, this is my only escape. i don't know why it became so unhinged but i remember people joking about max and charles getting married and this is a fanfic so i thought, why the fuck not?? IT'S ALL JOKES PEOPLE!!

¡disclaimer!

this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition)

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus (+ maybe the other MLs!) and an oblivious player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, maybe some suggestive language?? will add more tags as the story progresses A/N: This is gonna be a multi-chapter fic! I’m still not sure whether to do the boys in rotation, or just focus on one ML per series. Don’t take my word for it atp tho – I’m not even sure if I can actually finish a series lol.  Also, I’ve had the creative liberty of changing stuff from the actual gameplay here and there. (Except for the self-awareness. That’s most definitely real.) Hope you enjoy~!

Chapter 1

It’s a quarter past eight and you’re still on your desk working overtime on a Friday night. 

You let out a big sigh, leaning back on your office chair after an unhealthy duration of bad posture from hours of slouching down in front of your computer. There’s nothing ergonomic about the way this job is killing you, and the ache in your lower back can attest to that. 

An irate orange tabby plops himself in front of you, blocking your view of the glaring screen and you figure that it’s time for a break. 

“Me-oow.”

“I know, I know,” You answer tiredly, standing up to dodge a stray paw clawing your way and you hear cracks in three different places that are honestly unbecoming of a woman your age. You haven’t even reached thirty yet, for god’s sake. “I’m a bad mother. But mom also had to skip dinner to make it to the seven PM meeting, so cut me some slack, okay?” 

A high-pitched “meooowr!” is the only response you get; it seems like there’s no excusing late dinner time this time around. 

As much as you’d like to hem and haw and complain, the main reason why you’re still keeping this job is because you can work remotely. If it weren’t for the fact that you’re stuck most days at home working hours past your regular nine to five, having to be on-call around the clock at all times, and that you’ve consumed more sodium than a nitrite victim with the way you live off cup ramen, then, really, it beats working in an office where you’d physically have to clock in and out from exactly nine to five. 

Your right eye twitches. No, I have not fallen in love with the system that exploits me, thank you very much. 

“Here is your Fancy Feast, your highness,” you tell the hungry feline who’s already ignoring the hand that feeds for the bowl full of white fish paté. He eats healthier than you, sure, but you work like this for him to eat like this. The life of a single mom is an uphill battle, but extremely rewarding. 

You raise your hand to pat your son’s head lovingly, aborting the gesture halfway when you hear a warning growl. Alright, tough crowd. 

After nuking a half-eaten takeout box in the microwave and grabbing a cold Bundaberg from the fridge, you hunker down on the “chaise lounge” (see: an old wingback and a rattan ottoman you’ve refurbished as a makeshift seat a few weeks back when you had guests over) for a late meal. 

You barely register the taste of lukewarm rice on your tongue, mouth moving mechanically while your mind runs on autopilot about everything and nothing at the same time. 

Maybe it’s time to check Jobstreet again

Is there like a laundromat near the area that’s open twenty four seven

Eugh, I hate cold peas

What do we feel about Chromakopia? 

I will… die alone

I really need to stock on some fresh produce this weekend–

Ping! 

A notification from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts – and like a well-trained dog pavlov’d into responding, you visibly perk up at the sight of your lock screen lighting up and the familiar banner you’ve already memorized by heart. 

Your Galaxy Explorer rewards are here. Did you put my hotel’s address as the shipping address? 

Ah, just like clockwork. 

You press on it with a quiet, bubbling anticipation, chewing on the plastic spork as you wait impatiently for the silly mobile game that’s been your short respite at intervals – for more than you’d care to admit – to boot up. 

Offhandedly, you wish that the devs would add more variations to the game’s push notifications; more random, personalized stuff like maybe a reminder to drink water, or a fun update about their day. What you’d give – pay – for a: "Less on the overtime, kitten. I miss you,” dialogue from a certain character, but you digress. 

Oh, well. Probably better this way, lest you dig yourself deeper into delusion. 

The game greets you with the usual picturesque view of a silver-haired man sitting cross-legged on a chair, looking all the bit at ease in his signature crimson and white button up. The warm ambience of the Destiny Café at night draws you in, already pulling your attention away from the never-ending stream of thoughts in your brain. 

“Before seeing you, I thought today would be another dull day,“ Sylus comments airily. The way he drawls out the words in that deep timbre of his voice never fails to make your heart flutter – just a teeeensy bit.

“Ever the charmer,” you sigh happily in return, situating yourself more comfortably on the sofa, almost horizontal from how far you’re leaning back on the cushion. “You’re looking awfully normal tonight. What, no pineapple glasses for your favorite girl?” 

Having bypassed the initial cringe of talking to yourself after literal months of gameplay, it almost comes off natural, the banter. You’ve already accepted the fact that you’re crazy about a fictional, pixelated man – what’s pretending to have actual conversations with him gonna do? It’s not as if he actually hears you yap your nonsense; there are worse things in the world than a parasocial attachment to an otome game character. 

Your little jab at the sometimes random addition to his choice of attire earns you a laugh from the man itself– or at least it looks as though it does, making you blink momentarily in surprise. Happy coincidence, I guess.

You shake your head, cracking a smile, then proceed to do the routine of completing the daily agenda and then some. 

It’s tedious business, sure. You’ve dedicated hours upon hours on this game and you’re honestly starting to feel pretty bored with some of the gameplay elements, but you *do* like the ritualistic nature of ticking off the tasks one by one. It’s almost ironic – the way you dutifully do one thing after the other in this game, just to avoid the pile of work that’s waiting for you in real life. 

It’s not as if anything, or anyone’s relying on you to do your daily log-ins, so you suppose it’s due to that lack of pressure as well. 

Pulling yourself away from the five-star Xavier memory card you’ve grinded to level seventy, you stare despondently at the sad little 2 on your remaining energy. The embarrassing amount of materials you lack to ascend the card seem to mock you, even as you exit the Memories window. Another goal for another day, perhaps.

All tasks on the daily agenda are complete, except for one that you’ve always saved for last.

You’re met with a standing Sylus on the game’s home screen, arms crossed and wearing an expression you’d almost describe as impatient, if you didn’t know any better. The sight makes you grin. 

Cheekily, you poke his crotch.

You’re looking forward to getting a playful remark, or if you’re lucky, a blush along with an embarrassed retort about your shamelessness. 

 What you get, however, is a resounding scoff. Your eyes snap back to his face – from, ahem, your prolonged staring at the area below his waist – and you do see the familiar tinge of pink on his cheeks, but what he says in response catches you off-guard.

“You spend that much resource for a card that isn’t mine?” Sylus tsks, both his voice and expression coming across as… affronted? “Kitten, I’m actually hurt.” 

Huh?

You haven’t heard that line from him before. Was there a recent update you weren’t aware of? The man in question then appears to look amused, from the way you’ve been rendered speechless by the unexpected dialogue. 

All at once, you gasp when you realize what the new response means. 

“That’s so smart,” you say giddily. You see Sylus cock his head to the side, synchronously quirking an eyebrow—expectant. “They actually added a feature that lets them know which memory I’ve upgraded last, and make you react to it. Oh, that’s so cool!” 

If you weren’t too busy being excited over what you think is a new update from the game,  you’d see the chagrined look on Sylus’ face. But when you glance back at him, all trace of the emotion is gone before you could notice anything different. 

“Don’t worry, Crow Man. You’re still my favorite,” you assure him, making his mouth tick upwards in a semblance of a smile. He looks pleased all of the sudden, his demeanor shifting into something more relaxed.

Then a pout forms on your face. You crinkle your nose in frustration as you complain, “It’s just really hard to level your cards up at this point. It takes ages and a shit ton of energy just to level you up past seventy five.” Sighing, you add, kind of bitterly, “And I’m too broke to be spending money on growth packs.” 

Checking the time on your phone, you see that you’ve already spent more than an hour on your self-imposed break time and you know that you ought to get back to work soon. With a groan, you pull yourself to sit upright, savoring the last few minutes of free time before you slave off for the rest of the night. 

You’re about to clean up what’s left of dinner when you notice the oddly thoughtful look on Sylus’ face. 

There’s a deep furrow in his brows as he brings a hand up to cover his mouth. He closes his eyes shut for a few seconds. He's never done that gesture before... Ugh, he looks really hot–

Suddenly, you see a flicker— then a weird, sort of graphic distortion happening in the background. Uh, what??

A beat; then a glitch on the screen. “Ah, shit.” 

The game crashes.

You exhale loudly as the game’s interface goes back to the loading screen, tapping your thumb impatiently as the bar slowly loads to 15%... 50%..... 81%....... 

“Maybe make sure to patch up first before releasing an update next time, jeez— Huh?” 

For a quick second, nothing seems to be amiss. But then the first thing you see on the home screen is Sylus’ figure standing before you, wearing an expression one could only describe as a cat that ate the proverbial canary. 

He speaks— and it’s another intro you haven’t heard him say, ever. 

“You should’ve told me sooner, sweetie,” he almost coos the words out, making your eyes bug out in shock. 

“Now, why don’t you go check your–” he pauses, and his mouth moves as if he’s rolling the word out, testing it. “Inventory?” 

Sylus slides his gaze towards the upper left corner of the screen, a coy smirk still ever-present on his face. 

There, you see something you haven’t noticed earlier: two notification badges. One on your mailbox, and another on the Hunter’s Info tab. Bewildered, you press on the mail icon first, despite the insistence for you to start with the latter. 

You see a new message: [For You]

A small gift, to bridge our worlds closer. – S 

Nothing is attached to it. You read it twice, perplexed.  

“You’re quite the contradictorian, aren’t you?” Sylus tuts as soon as you return back to the home screen, his gaze boring into you even when he tilts his head sideways in mock exasperation. “Mmm, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Take all the time you need, sweetheart.” 

Helplessly, you open your inventory next. 

Your jaw drops. 

“What. The fuck,” You whisper to yourself, voice wavering in disbelief at what you’re seeing, and the sheer amount of what you’re seeing. “This– this can’t be real.” 

You see that all the materials you own, from the bottle of wishes to the ascension crystal boxes, have been multiplied a hundred times over.

And on top of that–

Ninety nine thousand red dias????

You cannot believe how this– this recent… update (or is it a bug? Infold sure isn’t this generous) didn't make the news. Even as someone as uninvolved as you are with the community and the game’s latest releases, something like this for sure would’ve made headlines on Twitter (X), at least. But you haven’t heard anything. Nada. 

Holy shit. 

You feel a little light-headed, both from incredulity and excitement. Needing a moment to calm yourself down, you exit the Inventory tab in a daze.

You stare at Sylus. He stares back at you with what looks to be mirth in his eyes. 

Skeptically, you mutter, “did–did I get hacked or something?” 

Anticipating another unexpected dialogue to prompt up, you wait for a full minute without saying anything else. And for a moment, the man in front of you looks indecisive, contemplative. 

There’s something very odd, very… human in the way he’s looking at you. He looks as if– as if he’s—

His face falls back into a neutral expression. Not unlike how his idle animation usually looks. 

..

…

….. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to initiate a conversation any time soon, so you hesitantly poke him on the nose. 

“Even in the worst-case scenario, there’s no need to panic.”

You’ve heard that one before.

So he’s back to normal now. You temper the small disappointment that blooms in your gut. 

Shaking your head slowly, you try to make sense of all the stuff that just happened, but a sharp bite on your ankle pulls you out of your reverie. 

“Ow–!” The sight of your cat flopping near your feet reminds you of the time. More importantly, the backlogs waiting for you at your desk. 

“Wait, shit– I gotta get back to work.” This… unbelievable stroke of good luck (?) is gonna have to take a backseat for now.

You grab the carton box and the half-empty bottle of sparkling peach as you stand up. Making quick work of throwing the container in the trash and gulping down the rest of your drink, you rush into your room and back in front of your PC. 

Cracking your knuckles, you gingerly set your phone against the monitor. Setting the timer to one hour in Quality Time, knowing fully-well that you’re going to have to keep extending it until the wee hours of the morning – or until your battery dies, whichever comes first – you give Sylus one last look, letting out a long exhale before locking in.

“Just keep me company for the night, alright? I’ll figure out what’s going on once my shift’s over.” 

It could just be your overactive imagination, but you swear you hear a quiet chuckle from the man polishing his gun in your peripheral.

[moni-logues]

Reciprocity

Pairing: Yoongi x afab reader (Kintsugi couple) feat. A Fine Line Couple

Genre: established relationship

Word count: 5.8k

Summary: A couples' holiday with Suri and Namjoon highlights a particular problem between you and Yoongi.

Content: one reference to self-harm (cutting) but discussion of scars, oral sex (f. receiving), discussions of sex life stuff?, i guess some poor communication, overheard sex

A/N: yes, it's me once again with my favourite characters no apologies. i have been thinking about this since maybe even before i finished the series??? and i'm glad to have it finally out of my head. this is unedited and unbeta'd, written by me in the course of this one single day and well, here we are. This is set in the summer, somewhere a few months after the ending of the series.

* * *

“It’ll be fun!” 

Yoongi just nodded and continued carefully folding clothes and packing them in a bag.  

“You don’t want to come,” you continued, heart sinking a little. 

“Of course I do.” 

“Tell your face.” 

He smiled then but didn’t want you to see it, turned around to fetch underwear from a drawer. When he turned back, his face was schooled into something a little more neutral, polite. 

“I’m not saying it’s my first choice of holiday,” he explained, “but I want to go.” 

“Good, because you’re coming whether you like it or not!” 

You hopped off the bed, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and then moved into the kitchen to prepare snacks for the road. At the advice of your therapist, you were taking Yoongi at his word: if he said he wanted to come, you would believe him and it was not your responsibility if he was lying. Even though it felt like it was.  

A week in the sun had been your initial suggestion. Somewhere where the heat wasn’t a curse, but a blessing. Clear blue skies and cool water. Peace. Unbridled joy where the real world couldn’t touch you. Even you weren’t entirely sure when it turned into a couples’ holiday, but it was an idea that neither Suri nor Yoongi would ever come up with, and you weren’t sure about Namjoon so it must have been yours. Sounded like the sort of thing you would say. Yoongi had said yes and let you do the research, find somewhere not too far away, easy to get to but far enough to feel new, to feel fresh.  

He had been fairly tight-lipped about it since then. Got a little quiet when you brought it up, when you showed him tourism websites with activities laid out. He insisted he wanted to come but never quite managed to muster up the level of enthusiasm you’d hoped for. In a way, that was just Yoongi being Yoongi, but there was anxiety in you, too, and it was making you sensitive. You could see everyone hating the idea, hating the trip, having the worst time. The awkward silences, arguments about what to do or who should clean what. Namjoon had joked that he would have to force Suri to come and he had said it with a laugh but you knew it was true.  

You turned your head and looked out of the car window at the increasingly green scenes around you and bit your lip. It felt incongruous somehow to not be happy and peaceful when the environment was so lush and bright with life. With ease. With a natural kind of solidity that had stood for hundreds or thousands of years and was still standing. You felt small and silly to be worried about this but it didn’t stop you worrying. Yoongi’s hand found yours and, like it always did, made a warmth start in your heart. You closed your eyes for a second of intense gratitude and then turned to him. 

“It’ll be fun,” he said.  

And it sounded like he meant it. 

* 

You and Yoongi arrived first, took the back bedroom overlooking the lake at Yoongi’s insistence because it was the better view. You had stopped on the way for groceries and you stocked the fridge, took out food to cook for dinner, since it would be about that time when Namjoon and Suri arrived.  

The cabin was wooden and new, so new it still smelt literally pine-fresh. The sun was just starting to dip, dripping golden light over everything, spreading a thousand tiny diamonds on the surface of the lake. It couldn’t have been more picturesque. It made you want to send a postcard for the first time since you were a child.  You settled for texting photos to Taehyung who told you to stop messaging him. Your ripples of anxiety were peaking, anticipating Namjoon and Suri’s arrival and what sort of dynamic it would bring, how it might disturb the peace of this place.  

Yoongi tore you from the window and asked you to start peeling vegetables. You were glad of the task. 

“-t I don’t want to be here, it’s just going to be weird.” 

Suri’s voice came from the hallway and you froze. So did Yoongi. 

“I don’t know why you keep saying that-” Namjoon - “it’s not as if we’ve never spent time with them. You like them.” 

Suri’s hum in response sounded unconvinced.  

You heard the kicking off of shoes, could follow their footsteps into the living room, around the corner from the kitchen where the two of you were hidden. Yoongi put down his knife and moved to go, intercept them before they said something you didn’t want to hear, but you put a hand out to stop him. Your stomach was sick but you had to hear it. Whatever it might be.  

“She’s jus-” 

And they rounded the corner into the kitchen, stopped in their tracks when they saw you. 

“Hey!” Namjoon was the first to recover. “We didn’t know you guys had arrived already! Where have you parked?” 

“’Round the back,” Yoongi answered. 

He was looking at Suri and you were looking anywhere but. Face burning with shame—that this was your idea, that it was all your fault, that you should’ve made you presence known earlier, that no one except you wanted to do this—you swallowed and smiled as brightly as you could. 

“You made it!”  

Your cheer sounded forced to you; maybe Namjoon and Suri wouldn’t hear it. Maybe they would believe you. 

“Public transport is a fucking nightmare,” Suri said with feeling.  

“I told you we could’ve rented a car,” Namjoon replied as if they had had this argument already. 

“I’m not driving in these hills! You should do it. Right?” 

You flinched when she turned to you and realised you had to answer. 

“Uh-” 

“Yoongi drove, right? Literally what are men good for if not chauffeuring you around?” 

It was a lifeline for her, really, but you took it readily, gladly, anything to drive over the awkwardness and shame you were feeling. 

“She has a point, Joon,” you said, grinning at him. “You could at least get a licence.”  

Namjoon rolled his eyes indulgently, let you and Suri rib him a little more, smoothing things over at his own expense. You were deeply grateful.  

“Come and help us do dinner,” you said, ferreting out more chopping boards from the cupboard, handing over knives and ingredients.  

It would be fine, you told yourself as you diligently and with great focus, chopped an onion. It would be fine. It would not be weird. It would be fine. It would be fine.  

* 

It was fine. Dinner was cooked and eaten and cleaned up after. Drinks were taken on to the back porch, overlooking the lake, the heat lingering long into the darkness. It was not dissimilar to the other dinners you had had as a foursome. As long as you could forget what Suri might have been about to say, you were sure you could have a good time.  

* 

You woke the next morning, sun streaming sharply through a gap in the curtains. You rolled over, tucked yourself into Yoongi’s side even though you were already hot and sticky. You were willing yourself to fall back to sleep, even if just for a few minutes, and then you were sitting, eyes wide, ears trained.  

There was no mistaking the sound of other people having sex. You grimaced, settled back down in bed and pulled the covers over your head. 

“What?” Yoongi mumbled, not so much a word as a sound. 

“Can’t you hear them?” you asked in a stage whisper. 

Another grunt from Yoongi. Then you felt his body tense, followed by a sigh and a sleepy chuckle. 

“You’re the one who wanted to come on holiday with another couple.” 

You whined, prodded him sharply in the chest. 

“Not because I was anticipating this! Do they have to be so loud?” 

“This place is not exactly well sound-proofed.” 

“I so don’t want to hear this.” 

“Go back to sleep,” Yoongi said and he sounded like he was already halfway there himself.  

“I don’t know how you can sleep now that you can hear that.” 

Merely a hum in response. 

You lay for a few minutes, desperately trying not to hear the only noise in the house, and then you gave up. Threw back the covers and went into the bathroom to shower. The rush of the shower might not exactly cover it but it would give you something to do.  

* 

“Hey,” Yoongi greeted the other couple when they came out to join the two of you on the back porch, where you were sitting with coffee and fruit. “Just a quick request: could you please have louder sex? I’ve been getting a little too much sleep recently.” 

You and Suri both froze and you saw the blood swarm in her cheeks, red and hot. Namjoon just laughed.  

“I’ll see what we can do.” 

Suri swatted him harshly on the arm and he barely noticed, slung said arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, kissed her on the top of her head. If he felt embarrassed or awkward about it, it wasn’t showing. What was it like to be so self-assured, confident, relaxed about everything? Even with Suri’s face still pink, her mouth pulled into a scowl, furiously glowering at her boyfriend, he looked easy, his smile gentle and eyes bright. You envied him. You still felt silly and embarrassed about the previous evening, and embarrassed about hearing them have sex; he didn’t seem embarrassed at all to be heard.  

* 

Yoongi had insisted on washing up after breakfast. Didn’t let anyone else so much as carry a bowl back to the kitchen. He was taking his time on it, deliberately, carefully, putting off what he knew could not be avoided.  

He was rarely unaware of his own body. Vigilant at all times about its exposure. He had suffered years of summers under long sleeves and trousers, would suffer higher temperatures, more humidity if he had to. He regretted everything he had done to himself, but not in a way that prevented him doing it again. No amount of shame or embarrassment would stop him, it seemed. Not that it happened much these days, but the possibility was always there.  

Even when he was with you, he couldn’t let go. Even though you were sweet and kind and loving. Even though he knew there was a part of you that understood. Even though he could kiss your thighs where you had cut them and love you so much that it hurt, love your skin, love your scars (hate that you had them). Even though you kissed him, all over, generous and unsparing, even though you said you loved him, all the parts, every bit of him. He knew what he was and he found that breaking the habit of hiding himself was harder than the hiding had been in the first place. 

With his task finished, and all the others he had made up for himself (cleaning counters, fluffing cushions, clearing the dryer of lint even though they hadn’t used it), he had come to the point he could no longer avoid. He moved slowly up the stairs, towards the bedroom you and he were sharing; he stopped halfway up. He could see you through the door, left ajar.  

Your bikini was floral, cutesy, every bit you. The smile formed on his mouth before he had registered the sight. Then it was wiped away because he saw your face: your worried eyebrows, lip caught between your teeth. Your fingers ran over the scars on your thighs; your face turned towards the window, from which point Yoongi knew you could see Namjoon and Suri, already out, lounging. He could see cogs turning in your head, first this way then that.  

And then it wasn’t just the scars. You fussed with the top, fussed with the bottom, turned in the mirror to check yourself from the side, twisted your head around to catch yourself from the back. You ran a hand over your face. You picked up a slip of fabric—some kind of cover-up, a dress?—and held it up against yourself. 

He knew he shouldn’t be spying like this. He wanted to leap the remaining stairs and take you into bed where he would show you exactly what he thought of your body: your perfect, desirable, soft, body that he loved and loved to love. He wanted, briefly, to throw Suri in the lake and hope there were eels because he knew you were still thinking about it: last night.  

He knew that it didn’t matter much what he did because it wasn’t that easy. It wasn’t as easy as being told you were fine. He knew because you told him all the time but he still felt like there was something wrong with him.  

He carried on up the stairs and knocked on the door as he entered. Your face was immediately bright, free from clouds, as clear as the sky outside.  

“Coming outside?” you asked as he moved in closer, couldn’t stop himself kissing you just once, putting all his love into it, however brief, however small. 

“Yeah, just coming. You go ahead.” 

You nodded and skipped out and there was a deep tug in his chest. There was a pit of snakes in his stomach but, fuck it, he’d been bitten before. Everyone out there beside the lake knew him, knew what he was if not in full, lurid detail. He took a deep breath and fished around in the bottom of his bag for the pair of swimming shorts he had bought in a moment of madness and packed because he wanted to make the effort for you. He hadn’t expected to wear them—they were still fully tagged and pristine, ready for refunding—but here he was.  

He hadn’t anticipated the difficulty. He sat for ten minutes at the dining table in the kitchen, willing himself to get up and go outside. His legs weren’t all that bad, not the lower half. No one would care. You’d seen them before anyway. It wasn’t a big deal. He was telling himself all the right things but he couldn’t make himself move because he was thinking about all the people who’d seen him in his grossest state. Thought of the things some of them had said. Thought about their reactions. Thought about yours. Tried to focus on that. Reminded himself that it was you out there and his best friend. Suri was still a question mark but he also thought that she could go fuck herself if she had a problem with it because he was still prepared to fight her for potentially upsetting you. 

“I don’t know. I’ll go and see where he is.” 

Your voice floated over to him and that was it, the alarm call, the deadline reached. He stood from the chair and made himself move with he didn’t know what power.  

“Hey!” you cried, arms outstretched to welcome him as he approached the group. “I was just coming to look for you—thought you might have got lost.” 

He smiled, let you kiss him on the cheek, direct him into a sun lounger, sit down with him on it, not quite in his lap but almost.  

Suri raised a hand in way of a greeting; she was flat on her back, sunglasses on, straps of her bikini tucked away, her tiny body sizzling in the sun. Namjoon sat next to her, under the shade of a parasol, dug out of the cabin’s garage, book in hand. He nodded at Yoongi and kept reading. 

“I’m going to go in the lake,” you said, one hand resting on his calf. “Do you want to come?” 

He was putting all his energy into not looking where you were touching him, not noticing, pretending that this wasn’t the first time for he couldn’t remember how many years that he’d not been fully covered in front of people. He wasn’t sure what his face said, if his mouth said anything at all, but you were standing and holding out your hands for him so he must have said yes, let you lead him to the edge of the water and then jump in.  

The water was colder than he’d expected. He gasped and swallowed a lungful, came up spluttering. He wiped the water from his face and pushed his hair back. He blinked the water from his eyes and each frame brought you closer, until your arms were around his neck and your lips on his.  

“I love you, you know that?” 

He nodded. 

“I love you, too.” 

“I know.” 

Did you? Did you really know the full depth and breadth of it? The way he loved you was desperate and whole. He had loved desperately before, loved anxiously, a long time ago when he still thought it was possible he could be loved. There were times when it terrified him. You terrified him because you loved him and it was impossible. Panic seized him and he wanted to run, run anywhere, get as far away as possible until you and your enormous heart were nowhere to be seen. Then you would call him or you would touch him and the panic disappeared, a low-grade anxiety in its place.  

He hadn’t realised he had given up on it. Before you let him kiss you, before you kissed him back and said things he never believed he would hear, he had retired the idea of being loved. It wasn’t for everyone and it wasn’t for him. He took what he could get and accepted that his lot in life was nothing more. But he met you and it hit him square in the face: that he’d stopped expecting joy. That he was fine because he never expected what he deeply and desperately wanted: to be loved. 

And that’s why you were terrifying. Because he was getting used to you. Getting used to being wanted. Getting used to the idea that he could be wanted. Sometimes he thought he was expecting it. Expecting you to let him in your arms, in your life. He had to remind himself that he wasn’t owed anything, didn’t deserve anything. It was the other way around: he was in debt for everything he had been given by you, for being given you at all. 

* 

They say if you can’t beat them, join them. It was an expression Yoongi was apparently taking very seriously, as he slid his tongue down your torso, fingers already slipping through your lips, sinking deep into your soft, wet hole.  

You were less keen to join Namjoon and Suri in being overheard so you pressed a pillow to your face and moaned into it, still louder than you’d wanted to be. You bit down hard on your lip as your back arched from the bed. Every time, it was an aria performed like a concerto, Yoongi doing the work of a full orchestra suite at once. It was lethal and moving the ease with which he played you and it was somehow never the same twice. Never had anyone spent as much time with his face between your legs and it showed: he had learnt, with apparent ease, seemingly everything about what got you off: had learnt how to do it in a rush, how to take his time, how to make you squirt (a surprise more to you than him), how to edge you until you wanted to die, how to make you come and somehow keep coming. He had, on one unfortunately memorable occasion, given you a charley horse and a third orgasm simultaneously.  

You were approaching your second now, with sweat seeping into the bedsheets, and Yoongi’s tongue laving at your clit, his fingers rocking inside you. It was suffocating with the pillow smothering you, your hot breath making it damp, your breathing thick and swampy so it made you light-headed. You couldn’t have kept any quieter even if you’d be able to try; all your attention and energy fell on the mouth at the apex of your legs and the fingers inside you. An experience so in-body, it almost pushed you all the way out again, like your consciousness was hovering outside your skin, alert and alive, an electrical wire in a puddle of water.  

You came hard and gasped for breath when you pulled the pillow from your face. Yoongi kissed his way back up to you, sticky marks all over your sweat-wet skin. He was damp, too, tiny curls of hair stuck to his forehead, the T-shirt he slept in stuck to his back. You peeled it back, ran your hands over him, were reaching for the waistband of his boxers when he pulled away.  

“I’ll wash up and then make breakfast, sound good?” he asked, climbing out of bed and reaching for trousers. 

The words died in your mouth. You could see that he was hard, see the discomfort in the way he adjusted himself as he dressed; you wished you could see into his brain. It wasn’t the first time, not even the second or third and you didn’t want to have the same conversation again, with another couple in the house, with company. Knew it wouldn’t get you anywhere if you did. Knew he would not fuck you nor would he give you a real reason why not. You rolled onto your side, away from the door and pulled the covers around you, despite the heat, despite the sweat. You lay and you stewed and you wondered just what exactly you were doing wrong. 

* 

You tried to forget about it and it had been easy until you glanced over to see Namjoon swat Suri’s backside with his book, saw her retaliate by squirting water on him from her bottle, saw him pull her down in a tumble that was entirely playful until she kissed him. You turned away because you’d already heard enough, you didn’t need to see their foreplay.  

* 

“Did you guys buy ice-cream?” Suri asked later that evening. 

“No,” you answered. “Do you want some?” 

Suri nodded. 

“Yeah, there’s a shop down the road; I’ll go and get some. Anyone else want any?” 

“I’ll come, too!” 

Suri looked surprised, her mouth open (to put you off), then she shut it and shrugged. 

“Ok.” 

It was quiet, initially, just the soft rush of wind in the tops of the trees and the slight crunch of the gravel track under your feet. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

The rhythm of Suri’s feet faltered and then started smoothly again. Her answer was slow to arrive. 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

Embarrassment was worming through you, on its way to stifle you, to choke you so the words wouldn’t come out. 

“You and Namjoon have good sex, right?” 

Suri didn’t just falter but stopped completely. She looked at you guardedly, suspicious. You could feel her attempting to put distance between you, even as her feet kept still. 

“Is that... ar-, we’re trying to be quiet,” she answered eventually. 

You laughed not because it was funny but because you were nervous. 

“No, it’s not about that. It's... I mean, you do, right?” 

“Yes.” 

You were stuttering over your next question, not having planned this conversation, not really knowing what you wanted out of it. 

“Don’t you and Yoongi?” Suri asked, beating you to it. 

“We do. Kind of. Yes, but also...” 

Your face was flaming, hot pricks of sweat beading in your scalp at the embarrassment of this, at having to ask someone about your sex life—someone that wasn’t Taehyung anyway—someone who definitely did not want to be having this conversation either. 

“The thing is,” you persevered, “he goes down on me, like a lot. Or not a lot but sometimes, well, often, he...”  

Your fists clenched and unclenched at your sides. 

“He goes down on me and then we don’t have sex and I don’t know what I’m doing wrong or why he doesn’t want to fuck me.” 

You let it out in a rush, looking somewhere over Suri’s left shoulder because you couldn’t bear to look at her directly, to see her face reacting. She was quiet for a moment or two and you stewed, boiling in your self-consciousness, steaming with shame.  

“Have you asked him?” 

“Yes, of course! He just says he doesn’t want to or ‘it’s ok’ or that I don’t have to reciprocate or that he’s fine. But I'm not fine! I’m clearly shit at sex! And blowjobs because he doesn’t want those either!” 

And it was the embarrassment, mostly, but you felt tears burn in your eyes, felt your bottom lip wobble and as much as you did not want to have this conversation, you certainly didn’t want to cry during it. 

“Does Namjoon ever...” and you couldn’t finish the question because you knew the answer and didn’t want to hear it. 

“Nah, if he’s even the slightest bit turned on, he’s doing something about it. Well, I'm doing something about it, you know what I mean.” 

You cursed softly, tried to kick at the gravel in your flipflops.  

“I just wish he would tell me what I’m doing wrong so I can fix it.” 

Your embarrassment, bright enough to have burnt away now, had left you sad, miserable in fact, that you couldn’t please your boyfriend and he was being too nice to tell you so. Sad because you couldn’t give him what you wanted to, what he gave you. Miserable that you were failing where you wanted to succeed. 

“Do you ask him directly at the time?” 

“Huh?” 

“I mean, look, I’m the last person who should be giving anyone relationship advice of any kind, ok? I really don’t know how to do anything but are you asking him why he doesn’t want to have sex right now, or have you talked about it at a completely unsexy time? Because Namjoon is barely sapient when his dick is hard; his brain is entirely in his crotch.  

“Literally the only thing I have learnt over the last year is that, as horrible as it is, you have to talk about stuff, especially when you don’t want to talk about it. So maybe just talk to him again but- oh, I don’t know! I’m not good at this. But if he’s not given you a proper answer, make him give you one. You should at least know what the problem is, if there even is one, right?” 

You thought about it. Thought about how quickly you let the subject drop, let Yoongi brush you off because you didn’t really want to have the conversation at all, didn’t want to know the answer—or rather you didn’t want to hear Yoongi say it.  

You nodded, thanked her quietly for her help and you walked the rest of the way to the shop in silence. You picked an ice-cream at random and a random one for Yoongi, too, then you walked back. Suri tried to make conversation with you and you were grateful for it, for her. You didn’t know if she liked you, found her impossible to read, and often got the impression that she’d rather be anywhere else, but she was making an effort and it meant something to you. 

* 

“Can I ask you something?” you started timidly as you settled in bed that night. 

“Yeah.” 

You were quiet for a moment and Yoongi frowned, trying to work out what had upset you. You had been quieter than usual all evening and he wondered if Suri had said something to you; you had come back from the shop with two melona ice-creams, which you hated.  

“Am I bad in bed?”  

He blanched. Didn’t really understand the question because you weren't. Not in the slightest. The sex he had with you was as close to perfect as sex could be. He sometimes felt deranged in how much he wanted you, felt dirty for it even, like it somehow besmirched your honour for him to think about you when he touched himself. Like he would contaminate you with his need to have you. It often took all he had in him not to fuck you. 

“What do you mean?” 

Your mouth was pouty and your eyebrows drawn close. You didn’t look angry for which he was grateful, but you were sad and frustrated for which he was not. 

“You go down on me all the time and then we don’t have sex after! You don’t let me reciprocate! I can’t do it better if you don’t tell me what I’m doing wrong in the first place!” 

It was like static was fuzzing up his brain. He knew the words but couldn’t understand them coming out of your mouth. He had thought he was doing the right thing. Giving not taking. Or taking only sometimes, but keeping the balance firmly tipped towards you. You always offered because of course you did: you were wonderful and kind and, for reasons he could rarely fathom, you cared about him.  

“Yoongi!” 

In a tone he almost never heard, genuinely annoyed, if also pleading and anxious.  

He blinked, tried to find an answer. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Of course you do! It happened this morning! It happens at least half the time! I don’t understand why you don’t want it.” 

And his heart was suddenly hammering because he could see that he had got it wrong but he wasn’t quite sure how. Colour drained from his face because you were upset, really, genuinely upset and it was his fault and if he could have squashed himself like a bug under his own shoe, he would have.  

He tried to see what he had not seen, what he had missed, what maybe he had ignored. Could only see instead the times before, with other partners, when he’d try to initiate and be rebuffed, when he never asked for anything because he knew he wouldn’t get it anyway and, besides, it was ugly to ask, to want, to demand for something someone else didn’t want to give. He had spent so much time and effort learning his partners’ bodies, trying to make up for everything he lacked. He knew he was good at it. Knew it, was sure of it. Wasn’t he? Was it not enough? Was he still missing something? 

“I do,” he said, voice hushed as though it hurt to say. “I do want it.” 

“Then why do you always brush me off?” 

He felt stripped like old paint. Had to look at you, though the embarrassment was excruciating. 

“I didn’t think you really wanted it.” 

And it sounded stupid when he said it out loud, really stupid, but it was the truth. 

“What?!” 

You really needed to hear him say it again. That he didn’t think you wanted it, even though you had explicitly asked. Even though you had sometimes tried, feebly, to insist.  

“I...” 

But he didn’t say it again, looked as though he couldn’t. Looked as desperate as you felt.  

“Why do you think I would ask, I would offer, if I didn’t want to actually do it?” 

“Because you give. You’re... You’re nice to me.” 

“Oh, fuck.” 

And you took a deep breath, tried to blink away the tears, sent them rolling down your cheeks instead.  

“Yoongi, what the fuck?” 

You saw him move, inch away just slightly, and you remembered who you were dealing with. Because he was Yoongi, your Yoongi, and he was warm and soft and sweet and funny and smart and you loved him so much that you forgot sometimes he still hated himself. Saw his denial now not of you but of his own desires. Remembered how long he had spent silently loving you without asking you to so much as hear a confession. Remembered how close you had both come to absolutely nothing at all, his disbelief overpowering his belief and his heart and his hope.  

You could see it from his side. See what he was trying to do, even if it was madness. Even if it was wrong. You could feel him retreat even now, tucking himself back inside his tortoise shell.  

“I’m so-” 

You didn’t let him finish, would not let him apologise. You kissed him, tasted the salt of your own tears between you, leant into him, let your arms wrap around him and pressed your lips to his, to his cheek, to his hairline, to his jaw. 

“Yoongi, I love you.” 

“I know,” he replied, but you weren’t sure if he really did. 

“I’m glad you think I'm such a nice person and everything, but I promise, I’m not offering out of the goodness of my heart. I’m asking because I actually want to. Like, really want to. Like, really enjoy myself and want you to enjoy yourself and want us to both enjoy ourselves together, y’know?” 

He nodded, couldn’t quite hold your gaze.  

“I’m serious. You need to know that I want to fuck you, ok?” 

And you laughed, though you were trying not to, even if it did feel a little ridiculous, having to convince your boyfriend that you wanted to have sex. 

He nodded again. 

“You promise I’m not a bad lay?” 

And you watched his face flick through shock and outrage and a kind of disbelief that become laughter.  

“You are not a bad lay, I promise.” 

“And what about blowjobs?”  

“Also good.”  

“You promise?” 

And you sat yourself in his lap, legs straddling his hips, sinking yourself low, pressing against him. 

“I promise.” 

“What if I say you have to prove it?” 

His head cocked to the side, playful, squinting at you, and you didn’t think that it was over, that he was suddenly convinced now, but with the burden of Being Terrible at Sex lifted off you, you felt not only lighter, but the deep, heavy, familiar drag of desire raise its head. 

“Prove it?” 

You shifted your hips again, deniably but definitely, and put your lips to his ear. 

“Prove that you like it when I suck your cock.” 

His hands gripped you tightly; you felt the bob in his throat when he swallowed as you pressed kisses down his neck and a stirring in his boxers that you sank even lower to press yourself against. 

“I’ll prove it if you prove that you like it when I fuck you.” 

“Deal.” 

* 

You were late up that next morning and Namjoon greeted you both from the back porch. 

“Hey, a little request: could you maybe be louder when you fuck? Suri and I are actually sleeping a little too well.” 

[seaspringangel]

kiss kiss kissing game - kinich

you and kinich play a little kissing game. no biggie, right?

pairing: kinich x gn!reader

warnings: none! just pure fluff <3

a/n: so not only is it pocky day, it is also me and kinich's birthday + i had apt by rosé and bruno mars on loop!!!!! so i wrote this dedicated to my new obsession and birthday twin. i hope you guys enjoy <3333

“Kinich, would you like to play?” 

Your smile was truly saccharine, possibly more sugar-sweet than the chocolate glaze that covered the thin stick you waved in front of his face, and it made Kinich’s heart skip a beat. 

He was too caught up in staring at you to answer at first. He stared at how your eyes danced with such pretty whimsy, how your face glowed like a star in the grass before him, forever bright and burning, the setting sun behind your back dousing you in a golden radiance that sent him silently spinning, much like the world on its axis.

Staring at your lips, still stained with fruit juice, glistening red as if you’ve been passionately kissed. Would you like to be kissed?

“Kinich?” You tilt your head to the side, brows furrowed in such an innocent way that he feels his heart racing again, making him feel like he was standing on the needle-point edge of a mountaintop, ready to fall into the embrace of something greater.

Kinich could only hope his face didn’t betray the emotions creating a storm within him, lest he be blown away. “I heard you. Play what?”

You smile even wider, even brighter, even lovelier. “The pocky game!” 

…what?

“What.”

You laugh, mirth shimmering in the air around you like a veil spun from the fabric of your joy, and Pryo Archon above, how he wanted to lose himself in you - in the bell chime of your laughter, in the light that sang from your very being.

“It’s a game, like the ones you compete in here in Natlan.” You glance up at him beneath the butterfly wings of your lashes, a little dream unfolding before Kinich’s eyes. “...but without, y’know, the maiming. Or the potential death.”

Kinich couldn’t help but feel his lips quirk up slightly at your cheekiness. You always seem to make him smile, even without meaning to. 

“That’s a shame. I was looking forward to being resurrected again actually.”

You roll your eyes. “Veeeery funny. Anyway, this game is simple and silly, and it may not be as adrenaline-inducing as bungee jumping or the like but I think we’ll both find it fun. And I figured…”

Suddenly, your smile becomes soft and Kinich doesn’t know what he’d do if you kept looking at him like that, with your pretty eyes crinkling with a tenderness that stoked a blaze hotter than Turnfire within him. 

“...I figured since it's your birthday too, we could do something silly, I guess. Together.”

You were still smiling, but there was an undercurrent of vulnerability in your voice, swelling like a tide. You just wanted to make him happy. You just wanted him to be carefree and unburdened as you were, even if was for one day, and how could he possibly turn you away when you looked at him like that, pure glitter in your eyes?

It was as easy as plunging head-first off the edge of a cliff.

“Whatever game you want me to play,” Kinich said softly, “I’ll play it. Just for you.”

You lit up, a dazzling flame of happiness made from Kinich’s dreams. 

“Okay so,” you begin to explain, “I put one end of the pocky in my mouth, and the other end goes in yours.”

You press the chocolate-covered end of the pocky stick against his lips, and his lips parted to allow the treat entry. The sugar of it rested plainly on his tongue.

You laugh a little as you eye how stoic he looked still. If only you knew how he felt on the inside. 

“To play, we have to start eating our ends. Whoever mouth lets go of the pocky first, loses. Or…”

And this is when you begin to blush a little, and Kinich relished in the way your cheeks pinked like the clouds rolling overhead, so sweet and beautiful. “Or we both get to the middle and kiss, making it a tie. But it’s not a big deal or anything!”

Kissing you, with your cheeks so flushed and your lips looking so petal-soft. That was certainly a challenge worth more than its weight in gold. And a challenge he wouldn't back away from.

And for the rest of the day, and beyond that, with chocolate and satisfaction still melting on his tongue, nothing could’ve compared to how sweet you tasted, how soft your lips were against his, plump as a daisy, just as addictive as the fruit juice coloring your mouth painting his own like smeared lipstick. A kiss kiss kiss here and there until he had you laid out on the grass, saccharine and sugar sweet all for him.

tags: @houseofsolisoccasum