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xnalux · 6 months ago

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I don't know if you're taking orders, but it doesn't hurt to try.

I was wondering what it would be like if the reader and (young) Violet were caught in the middle of making out (nothing too extreme, they're teenagers) by Vander/Silco and the two pull them into THAT awkward conversation. (I can imagine this so easily, it would be embarrassing and funny at the same time!!)

- that's it, a kiss on the ass

warnings: teens making out, fem!reader

an: this request was so cute I had to write it at soon as I got it. not entirely satisfied about this but I hope you like it ♡

In the warm, slightly messy confines of Violet's bedroom, the afternoon sun painted a playful pattern of light and shadow across the floor. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and the faint hint of cherry, a scent that clung to Violet from her favorite shampoo. The room was a testament to the tumultuous energy of adolescence: The walls were adorned with a mismatched collage of boxing posters featuring both legendary fighters and multiple polaroids featurings vi with her colest friends, some of them picturing vi and powder together.

The floor, a battleground of discarded textbooks, a few stray pieces of gym gear, and an ever-growing mountain of laundry that she always swore to tackle "later."

A worn-out punching bag hung defiantly in one corner, a testament to the countless hours she's spent working off her angst and energy. A rumpled bed in the corner with half-read comic books spilling onto the floor, and the faint smell of snack foods that had been hastily stowed away.

Violet, with her short hair sticking up in a halo of defiance, grinned mischievously as she danced around the room, throwing feigned punches at the air.

"Come on, cupcake" she goaded,

"I'll show you how to throw a real hook. You've got to keep your guard up, though."

You didn't know exactly how your sparring session started, one moment you and vi were bickering about who the best hero was in the last comic book you read and the next violet was circling you, fist raised in front of her face as she challenged you to ''show her what you've got''

Your eyes sparkled with both excitement and a touch of apprehension, as you mimicked Violet's stance, your hands held up in an awkward guard. you'd always admired Violet's strength and the way she could command a room, the way she'd stand up for anyone she thought was being bullied. You'd been inseparable since you were kids, but lately, you had been noticing something more, a spark of attraction that you hadn't quite known how to navigate.

Your playful sparring grew more intense, the air crackling with something electric and unspoken between you. Violet's movements grew bolder, and she began to enjoy the sight of you trying to keep up, your cheeks flushing a delightful shade of pink with every near-miss. As you circled, your foot slipped on a stray sock, and with a playful laugh, violet reached out, catching your wrist to stop you from falling.

In that moment, the space between you two seemed to shrink, the air growing thick with an unspoken tension. Violet looked into your eyes and saw something there she hadn't noticed before: a flicker of curiosity, a hint of desire. Her own heart began to race, and without thinking, she took a step closer.

The next few moments were a blur of movement as Vi playfully pinned you to the bed, your laughter echoing off the walls. your eyes went wide, but not with fear, with surprise and a thrill that you didn't quite understand. your body went tense for a brief second before you melted into the mattress, you hands fluttering to her sides, gripping slightly the fabric of her worn out t-shirt, like a butterfly unsure where to land.

Violet hovered over you, her grin turning soft and gentle as she looked down into your eyes. "You okay?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

you nodded, the nod turning into a shy smile.

"Yeah," you murmured, "I'm okay."

The room grew quiet, save for your panting breaths and the distant hum of zaun streets outside. Then, as if pulled by some invisible force, Violet leaned down, her lips brushing against yours in a soft, tentative kiss. It was a moment of discovery, a moment where the lines between friendship and something more began to blur. Your eyes closed, and you felt your inexperience show as your clenched hands hovered by her sides, unsure of where to go. The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as you both gave in to the feelings that had been bubbling beneath the surface.

Your bodies pressed together, fitting in a way that felt so natural it was almost surprising.Your hearts hammering against your ribs like they were trying to escape.

She pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss to look down at you, her gaze searching for any sign of regret or discomfort.

''Truce?''

She asked, her slightly sweaty fingertips, a mirror of her own inexperience, caressing the skin of your wrists still pinned to the side of your head. You swallowed hard, feeling your heart pound in your chest.

"Truce," you echoed back, your voice trembling slightly with excitement and nerves.

Vi's smile grew, and she leaned back in, her eyes fluttering closed. Your hands, which had been frozen in place, started to move of their own accord, sliding up her arms to rest tentatively on her shoulders. Her skin was warm and soft beneath your touch, and you felt the muscles beneath. The kiss grew deeper as you both lost yourselves in the moment, the gentle pressure of her lips against yours making your head spin.

Your own hands grew more confident, moving up to tangle in her hair, which was sticky with sweat but still smelled faintly of cherries. You felt the softness of her strands between your fingers, the way they curled around your knuckles. Violet's grip on your wrists tightened slightly, a silent message of reciprocation and encouragement.

Her tongue brushed against your lower lip, and you gasped, feeling a thrill of excitement shoot through you. Without thinking, you parted your lips, and she took the invitation, deepening the kiss even further. Your tongues met, clumsily at first, but quickly finding a rhythm that matched the rest of your movements. She tasted of sour gummies, ''her favorites'' you tought, and iron due to her split upper lip.

In an instant, the heat of the moment froze as the door burst open. The sound of the door handle jolted you out of your daze, and your eyes went wide with shock. You saw Vander's surprised expression just before you had the sense to pull away from Violet. In your haste, you misjudged the distance and ended up headbutting her with a painful thud, making her yelp and clutch her nose.

''ouch'' violet groaned as your panicked gaze glanced between her pained face and vander amused one.

"Thy drugs are…are quick. Thus with…''

you squeaked high pitched as your tried to remember the lines from romeo and juliet you recently studied at school.

Vi looked at you, a bewildered gaze that screamed ''what the fuck are you doing'' scrunching her features.

''w-with a kiss I die."

you finished in a dramatic way trying to ignore the weight of the stare of vander still standing in the doorframe.

Vander glanced between the two of you crossing his arms on his chest, his right eyebrow slightly arched

''What's going on here?"

Before violet could utter a word you quickly shot up from the bed, your hand gesturing hastily in front of you.

''we were just…practicing…uh…drama for school!"

you looked at violet pleading her with your eyes to play along

"Yeah, for the school play''

she mumbled still holding her nose with a pained expression

''You know, the one about those two idiots who kill themselves by accident''

you glared at violet because she didn't sound convincing at all.

''romeo and juliet''

you hissed

Vander nodded slowly but it was clear in his eyes that he was reading through your ridicolous attempt at making excuses

"I didn't know you were in drama club?"

he said with a teasing tone

''I'm not'' violet responded

''it's for losers'' and you almost felt the physical need to headbutt her again because she was not being helpful at all.

you brushed your fingers over the dorsum of your nose trying to come up with something.

''yeah, we are not but…'' you said

"It's… it's just a new extracurricular we're thinking of joining,"

you blurted out, hoping that the desperation in your voice didn't give you away.

"You know, to… to expand our cultural horizons!"

Vander's eyes darted back and forth between you and Violet, the amusement in his gaze growing with each awkwardly constructed sentence.

The room felt as though it had suddenly shrunk, the air thick with the scent of embarrassment and the awkwardness of the situation. The punching bag in the corner of the room looked almost sympathetic as it swayed gently from your earlier playful exchanges.

"Oh, really?" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"And here I thought you were just… I don't know, wrestling for fun or something."

Violet's cheeks turned a deeper shade of red as she shot you a look that was both apologetic and slightly exasperated.

"Well," vi began, trying to keep her voice steady, "it's like… a new form of sparring, to mix shit up. It's all about… emotional expression and… uh… trust?"

Vander's eyebrow quirked upwards, clearly unconvinced.

"And this… 'sparring' requires kissing?"

Violet's eyes grew wide with panic.

"It's a… it's a trust exercise," she blurted out, her voice nasally from her still-pinched nose. "We read about it in a book. It's supposed to… to make us more… emotionally connected?"

the silence that followed was as palpable as the awkwardness. You could hear the clock on the wall ticking away, each second feeling like an eternity. Vander looked at the two of you, his arms still crossed over his chest, his biceps flexing under the fabric of his shirt.

Finally, he spoke up again, his tone softer now,

"Look, girls, I know you're growing up, and you're gonna have… feelings for each other, but maybe you could save the… extracurriculars for when I'm not around, yeah?"

You both nodded vigorously, relieved that he wasn't as upset as you had feared.

''and you know'' vander cleared his throat a little awkward not expecting to do the talk to violet today ''if you need to talk about you know...kids your age...and hormones''

he started suddendly feeling awkward.

"Vander!" Violet's voice was a mix of embarrassment and annoyance, her hand shooting up to cover her face. "We're not doing that!"

She was blushing furiously now, her eyes pleading at him to drop it.

Vander looked at you both trying to find the right words

"you know the birds and bees...''

He paused, looking between you two before continuing,

"or a bee and tanother bee" he gestured awkwardly towards the bed, "ok maybe not the best example but you know two blossoming young girls like you two"

Violet's hand dropped from her face as she finally shot up from the bed hastily walking to vander pushing on his chest.

"oh my god please stop"

"It's all about the…uh…pollination of life,"

he continued, his cheeks growing redder by the second.

"And how it's a beautiful, natural process that happens between…uh…people who really care about each other."

Violet groaned, her movements stiff as she tried to compose herself.

"we get it all right...just leave us alone" she asked, pleading as her cheeks grew redder by the seconds

Vander's finally raised hi hands in front of his chest as violet tried to push him again out of her room

"all right all right, just wanted to let you know I picked up dinner. It's in the kitchen. Don't eat it all before I get a chance, okay?"

As he left, shutting the door behind him, Violet and you shared a look of relief and awkwardness. She winced as she touched her nose gently, checking if it was still bleeding.

you rushed over to grab a tissue from her nightstand and handed it to her. "Sorry," you whispered, feeling guilty for causing her pain.

"I didn't mean to…"

"It's fine," she said, taking the tissue and dabbing at her nose. She looked at you, her eyes searching. "So… that was… weird, huh?"

you nodded, trying to keep your voice steady. "Yeah, but… I liked it," you admitted, your heart racing.

Violet's eyes widened, and she looked away, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red.

“I… I liked it too," she murmured.

for a moment, you just stood there, the silence stretching out between u like a tightrope you weren't sure you could both walk on. Then she looked back up at you, a tentative smile playing on her lips. "Want to… try again?"

#vi arcane #arcane vi #vi x reader #arcane vi x reader #arcane violet #arcane spoilers #arcane au #arcane s2 spoilers #arcane #arcane vi x you #arcane vi and jinx #wlw #wlw post #lesbian

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snail-day · 2 months ago

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Packing for a beach trip right now and it's got me thinking about SatoSugu on trips.

I'd imagine that, Suguru does all the planning. Lets you pick out all your little outfits - bikinis, coverups, cute little sundresses, and folds them neatly into your shared suitcase. He even sneaks in one outfit he picked out himself, something that coordinates with what he and Satoru are bringing. “For family pictures,” he murmurs, not looking at you, and you don’t have the heart to tease him when you catch the soft flush on his cheeks.

(He absolutely scrapbooks. Has little captions under Polaroids like Baby's first beach trip, and Satoru tried to catch a seagull. Mothers so hard and denies it harder)

You’re sprawled out across the bed, bally down as you scroll on your phone, Suguru sits cross-legged on the floor in front of two open suitcases. Occasionally, holds something up and asks, “Are these shoes okay for walking?” or “Can I put your jewelry with my stuff, don't want it to get lost, y'know?” Always so thoughtful and careful with your things. He folds all of Satoru’s clothes too - meticulously, even though Satoru will inevitably wrinkle them within twenty minutes, and throws in an extra pair of glasses just in case. Even a little sun hat for you.

Your job, along with Satoru’s, is to handle the little travel essentials: snacks, toiletries, chargers, the fun stuff. Satoru loves going to the store with you. Gets to nudge your arm with his, steal quick kisses when no one’s looking (and when they are), and hold up items like, “Think Suguru would like these?” or “Ooo, should we get him a book for the beach?” You both go wildly off-list, of course. New towels? Absolutely. Sandcastle tools? Necessary. A novelty kite shaped like a jellyfish? You know exactly who’s going to be holding that string from a lounge chair while you and Satoru dive into the waves.

On the actual trip, whether it’s a plane, train, or long car ride, the seating arrangement is always the same. You get the window. Suguru takes the middle. Satoru sprawls out in the aisle seat. That order isn’t negotiable. Suguru insists he just prefers the middle, but you know it’s because he doesn’t want strangers brushing up against you. He’s still working on that possessiveness thing (his words, not yours). And Satoru, well - he has to be on the aisle. Says it's for his long legs and so he can ensure everyone is safe. Mostly it’s because he likes to go fetch snacks.

Once you arrive, it’s pure bliss. Suguru likes to relax. He spreads out under an umbrella with a book and takes photo after photo of the waves, of you and Satoru tangled up in salt-soaked towels, of his sandals half-buried in sand. He takes selfies too, pulling you into frame with a kiss to your your cheek and waving Satoru into the shot with the sweetest smile. He’ll ask a stranger to take a full group picture and makes it his lock screen later.

Satoru, on the other hand. He spends the day chasing you into the surf, tossing you over his shoulder despite Suguru's protests (You're laughing! What's the harm?), and twirling you around until you’re both breathless and sun-drenched. Suguru watches from his spot on the sand, sunglasses reflecting the sea. You’ll find him smiling to himself every time he catches you looking his way. He will give a little wave. Vacations are his favorite times with you both <3

#Soft satosugu #satosugu fluff #they're rotting my brain again #make it stop #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #geto suguru #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #geto x reader #satosugu x reader #satosugu #jjk satosugu #stsg #theres not enough satosugu fluff in the world

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godricgryffinsnore · 2 months ago

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The Photo In His Wallet ♡ : A Sirius Black Fan Fiction.

pairing : Sirius Black x female!reader

summary : When a picture of his girl falls out of Sirius Black’s wallet, Remus and James seize the opportunity of a lifetime—and Sirius? Well, he doesn’t go down without screaming. And you? You grab the perfect opportunity to tease the shit out of him.

warnings : Fluff overload, Secondhand embarrassment, Sirius Black being a hopeless romantic (and dramatic menace), Mischievous Marauder teasing, Mentions of laminated photos, Light language and chaotic energy, Excessive cuteness and mutual pining. Please let me know if I missed any.

author's note : English is not my first language, so please forgive me for any grammatical errors or spelling errors. Re-blogging is completely fine with me, but please don't copy my work. I love you all. Enjoy <3.

word count : 2k

main master list <3

banners : @uzmacchiato and @cafekitsune

It started with a perfectly innocent game of Exploding Snap.

At least, that’s what Sirius would tell you later, when he’s lying across your lap dramatically, whispering about “the betrayal of brotherhood” and how “even James turned on me, my dearest heart, the pain—the agony—you can’t possibly understand.”

In reality, it started with Sirius refusing to lose.

“Just give it up, mate,” Remus said, smirking as he laid down a perfect pair. “You’ve only got two cards left, and I can see the panic in your eyes.”

“I never panic,” Sirius huffed, slapping a card down with such force that it ricocheted off the table and nearly set Peter’s sleeve on fire. “I’m Sirius Black. I am the panic.”

James raised an eyebrow. “You okay, Pads? You’ve been weird ever since we got back from Hogsmeade yesterday. You’re not still swooning over her in that new dress, are you?”

Sirius went very still. “I wasn’t swooning. I was… appreciating.”

“You tripped over a display of pumpkin pasties because you were too busy staring at her,” Remus added helpfully.

“Pumpkin pasties are a hazard to us all,” Sirius replied solemnly.

They all laughed, Sirius included. And just when things seemed like they’d settle into a normal rhythm again, Sirius pulled out his wallet to settle a bet—and that was the moment. The moment the earth stopped spinning.

Something fluttered to the floor. James bent down to pick it up.

And then… the silence.

It was too quiet. Dangerously quiet.

James stood slowly, holding something between two fingers. “Sirius.”

Sirius blinked. “Yes?”

“What is this?”

Remus leaned over. His face split into a slow, delighted grin. “Oh, no.”

“No, no, give it back, give it back right now—”

Because in James Potter’s hand was a photograph. A small, well-worn Polaroid of you sitting in the Gryffindor common room. Your legs were tucked beneath you, hair spilling over your shoulders, and you were laughing—at something Sirius had said, no doubt, because the way your eyes sparkled was the same way he looked at you.

And worst of all? In the photo, Sirius was next to you, mid-way through tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear.

You both looked… soft.

Dangerously, disgustingly soft.

James’ jaw dropped. “You CARRY THIS with you?!”

“It’s laminated,” Remus added, peering closer. “Oh my Godric, did you laminate it?”

“FOR PROTECTION!” Sirius yelped, leaping across the table with the grace of a drunk Hippogriff. “SHE’S VERY PRECIOUS TO ME, OKAY?”

James was howling. “Pads, you’re whipped. I mean, we knew, but this? This is evidence. This is proof in a court of law.”

“Shut your mouth, Potter—”

“Do you talk to it when she’s not around?” Remus asked, utterly serious. “Like, do you take it out before bed and whisper, ‘Goodnight, darling, I miss your smell’?”

Sirius turned scarlet. “I DO NOT—well, not out loud!”

James fell off the chair.

Sirius finally managed to snatch the photo back and cradled it to his chest like it had been wounded. “Don’t listen to them, love,” he whispered to it, with a glare at the boys. “They don’t understand us.”

“You know we’re telling her, right?” Remus said, already pulling out a quill.

“You wouldn’t dare—”

“Actually,” James grinned, “I think she’d find it adorable.”

“She’d die of secondhand embarrassment,” Sirius groaned, hiding his entire face behind the wallet.

But when he saw you later that day—when you smiled at him like he hung the moon, and kissed his cheek and called him "my handsome boy", and tucked your hand into his coat pocket where he was still clutching that damn photograph—he thought, maybe... maybe the teasing was worth it.

Even if Remus and James greeted him that evening with synchronized kissing noises.

── .✦

You knew something was up the moment you walked into the common room and James Potter looked at you like Christmas had come early.

“Oh, hey there,” he said far too casually. “Funny thing happened earlier. Wanna hear it?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Not particularly.”

“No no, I insist,” said Remus, sliding onto the arm of the chair beside you like this was premium entertainment. “It’s about a certain someone. And a certain object.”

You blinked. “Is this about Sirius? What did he do now?”

James grinned. “Oh, nothing. Just carries you around in his wallet like a 1950s milkman’s sweetheart.”

You stared.

Remus nodded solemnly. “Tiny photo. Worn around the edges. Laminated.”

“I—what?!”

And then—then—you spotted him.

Sirius Black, standing frozen at the top of the boys’ staircase like a deer caught in a very romantic set of headlights.

He held his wallet in his hand. He made brief eye contact with you. Then he did the only logical thing:

He turned around and bolted back upstairs.

“Oh my GOD,” you gasped, launching up from the couch. “He did not—SIRIUS BLACK, GET BACK HERE!”

“No you don’t!” came his panicked yell from somewhere above. “YOU CAN’T SEE IT—I’LL DIE—YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND, SWEETIE—”

James was wheezing. “He’s GONE. He’s GONE feral.”

You thundered up the stairs two at a time and flung open the dorm door to find Sirius mid-dive onto his bed, clutching the wallet like it was the Marauder’s Map and you were Filch.

“Sirius Orion Black,” you said, arms crossed, breathless from the chase, “do you or do you not carry a photo of me in your wallet like a lovesick lunatic?”

He peeked over the edge of his blanket. “Lovesick gentleman, actually. Big difference.”

“Let me see it.”

“No.”

“Sirius.”

“…No.”

You stepped forward.

He whimpered.

Finally—finally—with a deep sigh and a dramatic flop onto his back like he was sacrificing his soul, he handed it over.

And there it was.

A tiny, slightly faded Polaroid of you. Laughing, sunlight on your face, your hand tangled in his hair. Laminated. Well-loved.

You looked at him.

He looked utterly destroyed. “It’s for morale,” he whispered, staring at the ceiling. “You’re like… a good luck charm. Or emotional support. Or a Patronus. You’re my Patronus, darling.”

Your heart turned to mush.

But you kept your face straight. “So you laminated it?”

“For protection!” he cried, sitting up. “You don’t understand, my love—James keeps gravy packets in his wallet. I wasn’t about to let you mingle with beef stew residue!”

You burst out laughing, full and loud and bright. And Sirius—sweet, ridiculous, hopelessly gone Sirius—just looked at you like you were the only thing in the world.

“Hey,” you said softly, climbing onto the bed beside him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “You know you could just ask me for another one, right?”

He blinked. “A photo?”

You nodded. “Or better yet…” You kissed his cheek. “You could just look at me.”

He grinned, slow and smug and utterly Sirius. “I do. All the time. That’s why I walk into furniture.”

You laughed again, burying your face in his chest. “God, you’re lucky you’re pretty.”

He kissed your temple. “I’m the luckiest man alive.”

── .✦

You weren’t planning on him finding out.

It was meant to be a quiet little secret. Something soft, something yours. A folded-up photo of Sirius—just his profile in sunlight, caught mid-laugh, probably making fun of James—and it sat right behind the emergency chocolate bar and next to your spare quills. A talisman. A comfort.

You took it out on bad days. When classes were dragging or the world felt too heavy or you missed him more than you could say aloud.

But Sirius Black was many things, and snooping-proof was not one of them.

You’d left your bag on the floor for five minutes. Five. That’s all it took.

"Darling?" his voice called from across the common room, the kind of cautious that meant he’d either broken something, found something, or was preparing to dramatically confess something. You turned, only to see him holding your wallet open with an expression like he’d just discovered ancient treasure.

"What's this?" he asked, holding up the folded photo like it was evidence. His own face stared back at him from the picture. He looked younger, a little softer, sunlight in his lashes. You’d kept it since fifth year.

You blinked. “...That’s private.”

“PRIVATE?!” he shrieked, his voice cracking. “You’ve been carrying me around in your wallet, sweetheart?!”

You walked over, nonchalant. “Yeah. What about it?”

Sirius stood there like you’d just proposed marriage. “I—You—You keep a picture of me on you? Like I’m—like I’m a lucky charm or something?”

You smirked, plucking it from his fingers. “I thought it was only fair. Since you keep one of me.”

“That’s DIFFERENT,” he gasped, pressing a hand to his heart. “Mine is—mine is chivalrous. Yours is criminally adorable and I’m having a crisis.”

You leaned in, lips twitching. “Having trouble breathing, love?”

He nodded solemnly. “Yes. Also blinking. Also standing. I might need to sit down.”

You nudged his shoulder with yours and tucked the photo back where it belonged. “You look good in that picture. It always makes me feel better.”

Sirius made a noise like a wounded animal and flopped backward onto the couch, arms flailing. “I am going to DIE. This is the best day of my life and I’m going to die and I will not be reborn because nothing will top this.”

You sat down beside him, tugging his arm until he curled into your side like the absolute drama queen he was. “You’re such a baby.”

“I’m your baby,” he said smugly, nose brushing your jaw.

“You’re a pocket-sized baby,” you replied sweetly. “Fits right in my wallet.”

“Unholy words,” he groaned. “Say it again.”

You kissed the tip of his nose. “My pretty boy.”

He visibly short-circuited.

You grinned, victorious, and tucked your legs over his lap.

And that was it. He was a goner.

── .✦

It started, as most Marauder disasters did, with ego.

Specifically, Sirius’s ego.

You caught him staring at your wallet photo again. He tried to play it cool, of course, with that smug little smirk and a head tilt like he hadn’t literally gasped when he saw it for the first time.

But you saw the twitch in his jaw. The unspoken challenge in his eyes.

And then, the next day… it began.

You were in the common room, halfway through a cup of tea, when James’s voice carried across the room:

“Pads, why is your wallet thicker than Peter’s entire textbook collection?”

Sirius—cool, collected Sirius—looked far too innocent. “What? I just like being prepared.”

Remus reached over, yanked the wallet from his hands, and opened it.

And snorted.

James peered in. Then cackled. “NO. You didn’t.”

You raised an eyebrow as Sirius’s face went red. “What’d he do now?”

James turned the wallet around.

You blinked.

There were photos. So many photos. Every single one was of you. Laughing. Reading. Sleeping. Eating toast. One of you with a spoon on your nose.

You choked. “Sirius?!”

He sat up proudly. “Well, sweetheart, if you’re going to keep one photo of me, I figured I’d keep a few of you.”

“Seven is not a few!”

“Oh, that’s not all,” Remus added, flipping through the slots like a catalogue. “This one’s labeled ‘sunlight angel’. And this one—oh my Godric, he put a HEART STICKER on this one—”

Sirius snatched it back, scandalized. “It’s artistic expression!”

“You’ve got one tucked into your wand permit,” James added, eyes wide. “Pads, be honest… are we gonna find one under your pillow?”

“I’m not a monster,” Sirius huffed. “That one’s laminated and goes in my boot.”

You buried your face in your hands. “Sirius. You’re a menace.”

He leaned over with a grin. “I’m a menace in love, sweetheart.”

You tried not to smile. You failed miserably.

“You’re completely ridiculous.”

“And yet,” he whispered, brushing a kiss against your cheek, “I’m still your ridiculously handsome, wallet-stuffing, picture-hoarding idiot, yeah?”

You looked at him—utterly smitten, utterly Sirius—and sighed.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “You’re mine.”

He beamed, all sunlight and smug satisfaction.

Until a photo slipped out of the back of the wallet and fluttered to the floor.

Remus picked it up.

It was of you, with a very noticeable smear of toothpaste on your chin.

You froze.

James gasped, delighted. “He laminated it.”

Sirius’s face turned crimson. “IT’S CANDID, OKAY?!”

You smirked.

“...You’re not getting any new ones for a week.”

Sirius groaned. “Worth it.”

#della 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x oc #sirius orion black #sirius black fic #sirius black #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fanfiction

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honeyhaeya · 1 month ago

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(🔐)🖇 ༘ ⋆"How to Date Discreetly"

' ╰┈ "can i go where you go? can we always be this close forever and ever?"

' ' 박성훈 x fem!reader

🎧ྀི 'ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Lover (Taylor Swift)

♫⋆₊˚ ﾟ. 'ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ genre / tags: idol!sunghoon x idol!reader, ice prince x reckless rookie, secret & established relationship, enemies to lovers (kinda), fluff, smut – MDNI, angst (minor), a pinch of comedy ੈ✩‧₊˚warnings: NSFW WARNINGS UNDER THE CUT ! smut, slight jealousy (m), language, detailed explicit scenes, angst (minor), reader on the pill (birth control), mutual hate that’s just actually horny confusion, mild hate (online), – ugh, theyre so in love, its intoxicating ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗ smut warnings: unprotected sex (reader doesn't get pregnant, but you might irl, so wrap that shit up), overstimulation, oral (f. receiving), cock riding, rough sex, creampie (lol), praise kink, dirty talk, emotionally charged sex, soft dom hoon, high sex drive hoon ✩‧₊˚ wc: 6003 – 2/2 (mini series) ੈ♡ a/n: this is peak delusion. dont like, dont read. open for constructive critisism but fact checks or logical expected outcome are out of the picture, come on yall, this is fanfiction. this is the last part, y'all, pls enjoyyyy mwuah. be sure to read part 1 ! *^★ playlist: lover (taylor swift), celebrity (iu), they dont know about us (one directon), polaroid love (enhypen)

you were trembling when they handed you the trophy.

your first win.

lights blinding. fans screaming. camera zooming in.

and just when you thought you couldn’t hold it in anymore—tears starting to fall, your members surrounding you like the sisters they’ve become—

a staff passed you a note.

no name. just: practice room 3b. after stage. alone.

your heart knew before your head could catch up.

so after all the cameras stopped flashing, after the encore ended and you waved goodbye with shaky hands—

you went.

and there he was.

sunghoon, leaned against the mirror, hoodie pulled over his cap, eyes meeting yours like he’d been waiting forever.

you walked in and locked the door.

“you came,” you whispered, not quite believing it.

“of course i did,” he said. “you won.”

“we won,” you whispered, and that’s when he crossed the room and pulled you into a hug so tight your knees nearly gave out.

“i’m so proud of you,” he murmured into your hair. “i watched it live. twice.”

you laughed into his chest. “i tripped during the dance break.”

“and still looked better than me every comeback.”

you grinned. “no one’s ever looked better than you during bite me era.”

“...valid.”

and then you stayed like that, forehead to forehead, laughing softly and just being.

just breathing each other in like the chaos of the world couldn’t find you there.

a week later

the fandom wasn’t ready.

a short collab tiktok. your new dance challenge.

you posted it with your leader.

he posted it with you.

and fans went feral.

“wait. is that sunghoon and y/n???” “don’t play with me—this is a power collab” “why are they so… flirty? HUH???” “they have matching energy idc this is my otp now”

even some idols reposted it with captions like “siblings or dating???” and “get a room but make it cute”

you both just smiled and ignored the chaos.

a few weeks later

the photo spread across stan twitter like wildfire.

a local park. grainy zoom.

a girl in an oversized tee and denim shorts, cap low, platinum-blonde strands peeking out.

a guy in a hoodie and mask, arms swinging beside hers, sneakers kicking up sand as they teased and fake-ran after each other.

laughing.

laughing like they had nothing to hide.

laughing like they forgot the world existed.

“wait is that them—” “sunghoon and y/n in public?!” “no way that’s not them” “i actually think this is kind of sweet???” “you can tell they’ve been in love for a long time”

of course, some fans weren’t having it.

“if it’s true i’m unfollowing” “he should focus on his career” “i don’t support this at all”

but for every hater, there were two fans saying:

“they deserve happiness” “you can tell they make each other so happy it’s insane” “i want a love like this…”

and behind closed doors, in their bubble of stolen glances and whispered phone calls and late-night snack deliveries—

you and sunghoon just smiled.

because maybe the world didn’t know for sure.

but you both did.

and that was enough.

he didn’t even say hi.

not even a “you look beautiful,” or a “i missed you”—though god knows he did. months of schedules, oceans apart, stolen glances through screens that never felt like enough.

but the moment the door shut behind you, he was already moving. one step. two. arms around your waist, lips crashing into yours like he’d been holding his breath this whole time.

your back hit the wall gently, his hands framing your face, breath trembling as if you were something fragile, sacred.

he didn’t rush. didn’t speak. just kissed you like the world had been unbearably quiet without you.

you tasted like home.

and he tasted like longing.

his lips moved with yours, slow but deep. his hands were over your waist, pulling your body close to him.

he moved fast—you didn’t even notice his hands slipping under the fabric of your shirt, touching your bare skin. you gasped, trying to question what was going on, but he just took that moment to slip his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss. your knees buckled, but he was there to hold you. he always was.

sunghoon lifted you like you weighed nothing, your legs wrapping around his waist instantly. he didn’t pull away until he laid you gently on the bed, like you were fragile glass.

his lips trailed to your cheeks, your jawline, then your neck. his hand held your chin, tilting your face to the side, giving him more access to the soft flesh.

slow. steady. nipping, but not enough to leave marks for the world to see. he was careful. he hated hiding you—hated hiding this. but he had to. for both of your sakes. thank god both your schedules lined up this week. this was his only chance. now or never again.

“hoon… i don’t get it… are you alright?” you asked, your voice soft, your body pliant as you let him kiss you like that. melting beneath him.

he didn’t reply right away. instead, he pressed a kiss to your neck, then rested his head on your stomach, settling between your legs.

“i just… missed you.”

you hummed, your fingers brushing through his soft locks. “that’s obvious. i missed you too,” you replied, giggling when he buried his face deeper into your stomach. it was cute. too cute. “tell me the real reason, pengsoo,” you teased.

he smiled. “you smell good… i want to feel you… like really be inside you,” he murmured, already tugging at your clothes. and you let him.

“it’s so hard. seeing you every once in a while, then you’re gone again,” he continued, your top slipping off, your breath hitching as your bra followed seconds after. his fingers traced your bare skin, teasing your sensitive spots with praise—calling you pretty, soft… intentional with every word.

you felt shy all of a sudden. this was the man you liked, dated, got in trouble with. the one who was always there—but somehow, not really. now he was undressing you. your cheeks heated as he pulled your pants down, and you tried to cover your face.

sunghoon noticed, smiling softly as he grabbed your wrists. “i… i love you.”

your breath caught. your cheeks burned. “…i love you too.”

and then he kissed you again. his hand tugged your panties aside, not even pulling away from your lips, keeping you distracted so you wouldn’t hide. “just tap me twice if you want me to stop,” he murmured between kisses, dipping lower. his fingers found your clit—it was already soaked. you were dripping. your grip tightened on his biceps, nails digging in.

then one finger slid inside you. then two. they curled perfectly, making your back arch, your mouth falling open as you gasped into his. he moved them in and out, finding that one perfect spot that made you moan—loudly, desperately—and he loved it.

he pulled away to watch you, fascinated. your flushed cheeks, your messy hair, your eyes rolling back. your pussy swallowing his fingers. lewd. beautiful. he didn’t even notice how hard he was until you came on his fingers, screaming his name.

“fucking beautiful,” he breathed, stripping down completely until nothing was left between you. he kissed your cheeks, muttering sweet nothings and filth that made you hide your face again.

“see how hard you make me?” he whispered. “i get so fucking mad knowing other guys get to look at you like that.”

you frowned, your hand cupping his face. “i’m yours. always.”

“i’m the only one who gets to see you like this,” he murmured, leaning into your touch.

you nodded, humming. “i want to feel you.”

his cock teased your entrance as he hovered over you, his breath heavy. “p-push it in,” you whispered, holding onto him as he slid in. your walls clenched around him, swallowing him perfectly. you were a moaning mess.

“shit… you’re so tight… perfect,” sunghoon grunted as he finally bottomed out. he stilled, letting you adjust to the stretch, to the overwhelming fullness.

the heat was dizzying. your body felt weightless. then, he drew his hips back and slammed them in again, hard. you screamed, voice cracking.

his pace started slow… but quickly turned feral.

his thrusts were deep, cock dragging along your walls like he was trying to mark you from the inside. the room echoed with the wet, obscene sounds of sex—messy. “fuck, baby,” he growled, lips brushing your ear.

he pulled back just enough to watch. your tits bounced with every thrust, your mouth open in a silent moan, your body wrecked. sunghoon grinned. “so... ha- pretty.”

suddenly, he dropped your thighs and flipped you over like you weighed nothing. he tugged your hips up so you were on your knees, his hand weaving into your hair to arch your back. “you're dripping,” he said, spreading your thighs apart before sliding back in.

you’d never seen him like this. so desperate. so rough. your mind blanked when another sharp thrust hit you.

“hoonnn!” you cried out, face buried in the sheets. his hips slammed into you, hard and fast. you felt every inch.

he leaned over, chest pressed to your back, mouth against your ear. “you like this, baby? you’re fucking perfect,” he rasped.

your moans were muffled, tears slipping down your cheeks as his fingers rubbed and twisted your clit mercilessly. your whole body was shaking.

he kept pounding into you, his cock slamming your cervix, your walls clenching tight. then, he grabbed your face, turning you to kiss him, searing and possessive.

“mouth,” he ordered.

you obeyed, dazed, and he kissed you, saliva mixing with yours before leaning back, watching you. “swallow it. please…”

you did. drunk on him and gone, and he knew. he could see it all over your face.

“f-fuck! hoonnie! i’m gonna cum!” you moaned, eyes rolling back, sobbing.

you came hard, squirting and soaking his cock. he groaned, pulling out just in time as his cum spilled over your folds, hot and thick. it dripped from your swollen pussy.

“so fucking pretty,” he whispered, staring at you like art—flushed, wrecked, dripping.

he brushed the hair from your face, kissing your cheeks. “you did so well.”

and your arms wrapped around him.

your legs were trembling, body still reeling from your high. your breath came out in short, shaky gasps as sunghoon lay beside you, brushing the sweat-damp strands of hair from your face.

"you okay?" he asked gently, voice husky from all the growling, his lips brushing against your forehead.

you nodded, eyes still glazed. "never better," you whispered, wrapping your arms around his bare torso.

but he just smirked—eyes flicking down between your legs, watching how wrecked and sensitive you were. “good,” he said. “'cause we’re not done yet.”

your eyes widened, and he loved that. the way you blinked up at him, totally ruined but still willing—still eager for more.

he sat up, leaning against the headboard, pulling you gently by the waist until you were straddling his lap.

“i wanna see you ride me,” he murmured, hands stroking your hips like he was sculpting you. “want you to learn how to take me like this. slow, deep—your pace. your rhythm.”

you blushed, chewing your lip. “i don’t really… know how.”

“that’s okay, baby. i’ll teach you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. “just trust me.”

you shifted nervously, feeling his cock already getting hard again beneath you. still messy from earlier, twitching against your thigh.

sunghoon reached between you, grabbing the base of his cock, guiding it to your entrance. “sit, baby. go slow,” he said softly.

you lowered yourself, gasping as the tip slipped in. he hissed, gripping your waist tighter.

“fuck… that’s it. just like that.”

inch by inch, you sank down on him, stretching around his length again. you whimpered, gripping his shoulders. “s-sunghoon…”

“you’re doing so well,” he praised, kissing your chest. “so fucking tight. so warm. take all of it.”

when your hips finally met his, you both let out a shaky breath. you felt full, stretched, overwhelmed all over again. but god, the look in his eyes—completely ruined, in awe of you—made it worth it.

he cupped your cheeks, kissed you gently. “okay, baby. now move for me.”

you lifted yourself slowly, then lowered again, moaning softly. “ah—hah, i feel everything…”

“yeah?” he grinned. “you feel how deep i am?”

you nodded, tears forming again from the pressure and pleasure. you started rocking your hips, rolling them in slow, deliberate circles, your hands bracing on his chest. the way he groaned—low, raw, possessive—sent heat straight to your core.

“fuck, just like that,” he said, guiding your hips with his hands, helping you ride him. “you’re so sexy like this… bouncing on my cock, eyes all teary…”

you whimpered, gripping his wrists. “feels so good, hoonnie… wanna make you feel good…”

“you are.” his voice dropped. “you’re my dream, baby.”

his hips started meeting yours halfway, thrusting up into you with each bounce. your thighs were shaking, sweat clinging to your skin, but he didn’t let go—his arms around your waist, lips pressed to your neck.

you picked up the pace, moaning louder, his cock hitting that spot that made your body jolt.

“sunghoon! h-ha, i—i can’t!”

“yes you can,” he growled, eyes dark. “show me how pretty you cum riding me.”

you cried out, your body clenching down around him. “i—i’m cumming! hoonn—!”

he wrapped his arms around you tight as you came undone, hips stuttering, your walls spasming around his cock.

sunghoon groaned, teeth sinking into your shoulder as he buried himself deep, cumming inside you without pulling out.

“fuck… fuckkk, baby…”

he held you there, cock twitching inside you, both of you breathless and slick with sweat and cum.

you collapsed against his chest, and he stroked your back, whispering sweet things as you came down from the high.

“you did so good, baby. best fucking student.”

you giggled weakly. “best teacher.”

he grinned against your skin. “lesson two’s in ten minutes.”

you were slumped against his chest, sticky and spent, your thighs trembling from the effort. sunghoon gently stroked your spine, humming softly like he wasn’t the one who just had you seeing stars.

but then you felt it.

that unmistakable twitch inside you.

you gasped.

“wait—hoon… you’re still hard?”

his voice was pure mischief now, cocky and low in your ear. “i told you. lesson two’s in ten minutes. but you’re such a fast learner…” he tilted your chin up, his smirk deadly. “thought we could skip ahead.”

before you could answer, he was shifting you effortlessly, flipping you onto your back like you weighed nothing. his body hovered over yours—warm, slick, glistening with sweat. the dim lighting made his skin look like gold, hair a tousled mess, and his lips were swollen from kissing you like he needed you to breathe.

“legs up,” he murmured.

you blinked, still hazy. “w-what?”

“legs up, baby. now. hands under your knees. i wanna see everything.”

and god—you obeyed.

he groaned at the view, pupils blown. “fuck, look at this mess… all because of me.”

he didn’t waste a second. he slid back inside with ease—your walls still sensitive, wet, perfect for him. you let out a gasping whimper, eyes flying open.

“too much?” he asked, faux sweet, brushing hair from your face.

you shook your head quickly. “n-no… don’t stop…”

he grinned. “good girl.”

he started slow—too slow—just rocking his hips in lazy, deep thrusts. each roll dragged a moan out of you, your overstimulated body twitching beneath him.

“you’ve taken me so well tonight,” he whispered, lips brushing your cheek. “you’re not even trying to run away now…”

you whimpered, fingers clutching his shoulders.

“you like it when i fill you up, huh?” thrust. “like when i don’t hold back.” thrust. “you were made for this, weren’t you?”

his hips snapped into you harder now, and your moan turned into a cry. your hands scrambled for purchase, nails dragging down his back.

“fuck, you’re squeezing me again,” he groaned, pace quickening. “you gonna cum again, baby?”

“i-i don’t know—hah, too much, i can’t—!”

“yes you can,” he growled, one hand gripping your jaw. “open those pretty eyes and look at me when you fall apart.”

and when you did—legs shaking, eyes rolling, moaning his name like a prayer—he followed right after, pushing deep and cumming with a broken gasp of your name.

he didn’t move for a moment, forehead resting against yours, both of you covered in heat and breathlessness.

finally, he chuckled. “third time’s the charm, huh?”

you could only giggle weakly, completely wrecked.

“my best student,” he whispered, kissing your lips. “but you’re not graduating yet. i’m keeping you in class forever.”

your legs were jelly. like actual, boneless, no-sensation-left jelly. sunghoon didn’t even give you time to whimper about it. no—he just swept you up bridal-style, still looking like he didn’t break a sweat, and padded right into the kitchen with his bare ass on display like he owned the whole goddamn hotel room (and you. very much you).

you blinked as he set you on the cold counter, your skin prickling.

“h-hoon… water first?”

he just smirked. “i’m thirsty, yeah. but not for that.”

you knew that look.

that glint in his eye.

the same one he had the night he bent you over the shower door.

“baby…” you started, weakly trying to protest.

but he already had your knees spread again, palms pressing your thighs apart like he was flipping open a favorite book.

“can’t help it,” he muttered, eyes locked on your completely ruined core. “you look too good like this. like you want me to make a mess in here too.”

“but—countertop—hoon this is a kitchen—”

“and now,” he purred, dragging his length along your entrance with a dark grin, “it’s where i’ll eat you, too.”

you nearly screamed.

he slid in without warning—your whole body arched off the marble. he grabbed your waist, holding you still as he bottomed out again, slow and deliberate.

“still so tight,” he groaned. “after all that?”

you sobbed a little laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“fuck, you’re incredible,” he whispered, forehead pressed against yours. “ruined and perfect and mine.”

his hips started moving, hard and fast—filthy wet sounds echoing with every thrust. your back kept thudding against the cupboards, the fridge humming violently beside you.

“anyone could walk in,” you gasped.

“let them,” he growled, hand wrapping around your throat just enough to make your head spin. “let them see who this pussy belongs to.”

your moan came out wrecked.

he drove into you like a man possessed, the counter rocking beneath your bodies. sweat dripped from his jaw, and his voice went breathless:

“gonna fill you up again,” he whispered, right in your ear. “you’re gonna be leaking me for hours, baby.”

that was all it took—you clenched around him, body trembling, and he lost it, spilling inside you with a hoarse cry of your name.

he collapsed into your chest, both of you panting, sweaty, sticky, and probably going to have to bleach the counter.

after a minute, you groaned, weakly swatting his back.

“what happened to just water?”

he smirked against your skin. “hydration starts with you.”

sunghoon’s still inside you when he leans in and kisses your temple. it’s soft. way too soft for someone who just absolutely demolished you on a hotel kitchen counter.

you’re both still breathing heavy, your chest rising against his, your thighs twitching around his waist.

but hoon doesn’t move.

doesn’t pull out.

just holds you like he’s afraid the moment might dissolve if he lets go.

“baby…” he says it quietly, like he’s scared to break the calm. “we’ve got a little time, right?”

you nod, a little dazed. “mhm.”

he finally smiles. that soft one. the rare kind. the one he only gives when it’s just you and him, wrapped up in the low hum of hotel aircon and the warmth of being close.

“then i’m not done yet.”

your stomach flips.

before you can ask what he means, he’s pulling you off the counter—slowly this time, carefully—and carrying you bridal-style again, lips brushing your shoulder.

“gonna make the most of every second, angel,” he murmurs, eyes dark. “wanna remember how you sound. how you look. how you feel.”

he lays you down on the big hotel bed, sheets still crisp and hot from earlier.

and this time?

he takes his time.

his hands move slow, like he’s memorizing you. lips pressing gentle kisses from your collarbone to your thighs, whispering between every one.

“love how soft you are…”

“god, look at you—so pretty like this…”

“gonna keep you full, baby. wanna stay with you like this until the sun comes up.”

and he does.

there’s no rush. no teasing. just sunghoon, worshipping you like you’re his last good thing in the world.

he kisses every part of you, murmurs praises against your skin, and when he slides into you again—it’s slow. achingly slow. just hips pressed together, foreheads touching, fingers intertwined like he’s holding on for dear life.

you’re not just his tonight.

you’re his home.

and maybe the world outside is chaotic and cold, but here?

with him?

it’s soft. safe. sinful. sacred.

and when he finally falls asleep, arms wrapped around you, lips ghosting “i love you” into your shoulder—you believe him.

the sun barely peeks through the hotel curtains, soft light filtering in like it’s trying to give you a break. but no. no peace. not when you’re dealing with park sunghoon.

you’re standing—well, attempting to stand—in front of the mirror, trying to shimmy on your shorts. your legs feel like noodles, your thighs ache, and your hips scream in protest with every movement.

“babe,” you groan, gripping the edge of the dresser for support. “I can’t walk.”

from behind you, he hums—fucking hums—like he didn’t just ruin your entire lower half hours ago.

“you shouldn’t have looked that good last night,” he shrugs from the bed, sheet half-draped over his naked waist, eyes heavy and smug.

you shoot him a look in the mirror. “you say that like it’s my fault my thighs exist.”

he grins. “it is your fault for looking at me like that. like you wanted dessert—and not the kind on the menu.”

“sunghoon—”

but before you can finish, he's behind you, arms slipping around your waist, lips ghosting along the curve of your shoulder. you jolt.

“sunghoon, I’m literally trying to put my pants on—”

“you don’t need pants,” he mumbles, voice low and sleepy and dangerous. “just lay down for a second. just one more.”

“you said ‘just one more’ like four orgasms ago—”

he gently tugs the shorts from your grip, lets them drop to the floor again.

“baby,” he pouts, pressing a kiss to your neck, “can’t help it. you’re walking around all sore and pretty, making those little noises when you bend, acting all shy—what am I supposed to do? respect you?”

you snort. “yes?!?”

but he’s already guiding you back to the bed, back to him, back under the covers where his hands are warm and his mouth is hungry again.

and when he pushes your legs apart, head dipping between your thighs, tongue flicking slow and evil over your inner thigh, you realize—

you’re not walking out of that hotel room soon.

[THE WALK OF “FAME”]

you step out of the hotel with sunglasses too big for your face and a cap pulled so low it nearly hides your whole soul. your body’s still screaming for rest, but your manager’s van is already parked just outside, tinted windows and all. no time to cry.

well—maybe a little whimper when you shift your legs.

you glance down at yourself. hoodie? check. shorts? regretfully, check. confidence? left it in the sheets of that king-sized bed where he is probably still sprawled, proud and shirtless.

your phone buzzes.

sunghoon: you forgot to kiss me goodbye sunghoon: also i found ur sock under the bed lol. want it back or should i keep it as a trophy?

you almost trip over your own feet from laughing. covering your mouth quickly, you slide into the backseat like an embarrassed criminal on the run.

you reply with a selfie—sunglasses, pout, middle finger up.

you: keep it. bury it. i never wanna see that cursed room again. sunghoon: cursed??? wow. so u scream my name like a prayer in cursed places now huh? got it.

you physically bite your lip to keep from smiling too hard, but your manager glances at you in the rearview mirror. you straighten up, pretending you’re just… normal. functional. not completely demolished by park sunghoon.

[THE FANMEET DISASTER THAT WASN’T]

you’d been smiling all day, hearts and polaroids flying, fans whispering sweet words that made you feel lighter. until… he walked in.

disguised in an oversized hoodie, baseball cap, mask—as if that jawline could be hidden. you almost broke character when you recognized the slouch of his shoulders, the way his fingers fiddled with the strap of his bag like a schoolboy with a crush.

you play it cool when he approaches.

"name?" you ask sweetly, not even hiding your smirk.

he tilts his head. “hoon. with an h.”

you scribble it down on his photocard, doodling a heart beside it. "thanks for coming, pengsoo. you’re really cute." then you leaned close, just enough to whisper. "you crazy bastard, if you get recognized I'm out of this."

he stares at you. “...thanks,” he says, flat. and walks away dramatically like he’s the one being played.

[THE VAN]

you finally climb into the random van later, excusing yourself from your manager and members. you even dragged a rookie staff to sit in front so you and hoon could have the entire backseat to yourselves.

as soon as you slide in, sunghoon’s arms cross. he looks away dramatically.

“oh, you’re mad now?” you laugh.

he glares. “so you treat your fans better than you treat me? I waited 40 minutes in line and all I got was a you’re cute and a smile like you didn’t make me almost break the hotel furniture last night.”

you giggle, poking his cheek. “you are cute.”

“not the point!” he whines. “you called me ‘sir’ and everything—who even taught you to be that sweet?!”

you lean in, pressing a teasing kiss to his jaw. “guess I’m just that good.”

he sighs dramatically, already pulling you into his lap.

"you're gonna pay for this. you know that, right?"

you blink innocently. “what’re you gonna do? break my legs again?”

he narrows his eyes.

“…worse. I’m gonna make you fall harder.”

the van rolls through the city, a lazy sunset washing golden light over tinted windows. you’re curled into sunghoon’s lap, hoodie sleeves hiding the way your fingers keep sneaking up his sides to poke him like you’re five.

“stop,” he says, grinning, arms wrapping around your waist. “you’re gonna get us caught.”

“you started it!” you whisper back, smacking his arm as he leans in to nuzzle your neck.

“oh my god—hoon, shh,” you giggle breathlessly, swatting at him again. “what if they hear?”

he chuckles, voice low and teasing against your ear. “shoot, haha.”

and then his hands are moving—fingers spidering up your sides, making you yelp as he tickles you mercilessly.

you squirm in his lap, laughing, trying not to be loud, but his mouth is curled in that smug smirk that means he’s enjoying every second of this.

“you’re evil!” you gasp, face warm, breath hitching when you shift and feel—

“…you’re hard,” you say flatly, raising a brow, hair all over your face as you freeze in his lap.

he stops tickling, blinking at you.

“you’re definitely hard,” you repeat, a little louder, a little smugger.

sunghoon rolls his eyes. “you’re squirming in my lap like a cute little worm, what do you expect?”

you smack him again. “don’t call me a worm when you’re—”

“raging. yeah. your fault.”

you stare at him, flustered, breathless, laughing, your forehead pressed against his shoulder as you try to calm your heart—and everything else he just activated.

“I hate you,” you whisper.

“you love me,” he whispers back, arms tightening around you like he’s scared you’ll vanish.

and you do. you really do. even if he’s currently a menace in every sense.

up front, your manager exchanges a knowing glance with hoon’s, the two of them scrolling on their phones, pretending they didn’t hear any of that.

the rookie staff just sips her coffee.

“…she’s really quiet today,” she comments.

both managers nod.

“yup. probably just tired,” hoon’s manager says, deadpan.

they’ve all known for months.

they’re just pretending they don’t.

because the love these two idiots have? it’s the kind that can’t be managed out of them anyway.

the rooftop was quiet, lit only by the soft glow of fairy lights they’d strung up in a rush. takeout containers litter the picnic blanket they brought, drinks sweating in the evening air, and the city lights below blink like they’re watching—silent witnesses to a love that never stood still.

you’re lying beside him, his hoodie pulled over your head, sleeves long enough to swallow your hands. sunghoon’s cap is low on his face, but the smile he’s been wearing all night? yeah. nothing could hide that.

“you know we’re not really disguised, right?” you murmur, nudging him with your knee. “we look like staff, sure, but we still shine like dumbass stars.”

he snorts, hand reaching out to hold yours. “it’s because we are stars. duh.”

you laugh, the sound soft and small and just for him. your manager had reluctantly agreed to this—one last date before he leaves with his members tomorrow. they’d whispered, “make it quick,” but they knew damn well these fools wouldn’t listen. love like this doesn’t follow call times.

hoon sits up, arms stretched over his head as he yawns. “should we go?”

“you wanna go?”

“no.”

you grin. “then stay.”

and just like that, he pounces.

you squeal, trying to escape, but he’s already chasing you around the rooftop like a lovesick idiot. he catches you by the waist, spinning you, your laughter echoing into the sky as you crash onto the blanket again, breathless and tangled.

“you’re crazy,” you whisper.

“you’re stuck with me,” he whispers back, nose brushing yours.

and then he kisses you.

slow at first. gentle. like he’s memorizing the shape of your lips, the taste of you, the way your breath stutters when he pulls you closer.

but it doesn’t stay slow.

not when you cup his face. not when your hands disappear under his hoodie. not when he presses you into the blanket with a soft groan like he’s trying to mold your bodies into one.

his hand slips under your shirt, warm and reverent, like he’s trying to say goodbye without ever using the word.

you kiss him harder, just to shut the sadness up.

because tomorrow’s coming.

and he’s leaving.

but tonight?

tonight, he’s yours.

in every laugh.

in every kiss.

in every heartbeat pressed against yours.

it’s quieter than usual in the company building. late, after practice hours, when everyone’s tired and scattered. the hallways are mostly empty except for you and sunghoon, sneaking through the dimly lit space like you’ve got all the time in the world… but neither of you do.

you stop in front of a door tucked at the end of the hallway—a secluded little area you two like to use when no one’s around. the walls here are soft and quiet, like they understand the weight of your secret love. hoon looks down at you, his face unreadable for a second before his lips pull into a smile, a bittersweet one.

“this is it, huh?” you whisper, looking up at him.

he doesn’t answer right away. instead, he just pulls you into him, his arms wrapping around your waist like it’s the only thing that makes sense anymore.

“you’re not going anywhere,” you murmur into his chest, but the words feel hollow even to you. because you know tomorrow, he’ll be gone.

hoon pulls back slightly, his eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them. there’s so much unsaid in that look, but then—his lips. they’re on yours before you can stop it.

it’s gentle, a slow burn of goodbye, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. it deepens as his hands slide to your neck, pulling you closer as if he wants to hold onto this moment forever. you kiss him back with everything you have, even as the pain in your chest starts to build.

the sound of footsteps approaching pulls you both apart with a snap, hoon’s fingers brushing your cheek one last time before he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“i’ll text you. and don’t forget to check your bag,” he whispers against your skin, voice low.

you blink up at him, confused, but before you can ask—he’s gone. disappearing into the hall, leaving you standing there, heart pounding.

later that night, in your shared dorm, you slump onto your bed, exhausted from the chaos of the day. your three friends—who all know the secret—are chatting around you, unaware of what you’re about to find.

you’re digging through your bag, mind on something else, when your fingers brush against something unexpected. a plastic bag, slightly crinkling as you pull it out. it’s filled with all your favorite snacks, the ones you’ve been craving but haven’t allowed yourself to eat in weeks.

your heart skips a beat, and for a moment, you just sit there in disbelief. hoon knew. you can almost hear his voice in your head—“you’re too hard on yourself. eat the damn snacks.”

you grin to yourself, because even though he’s gone, he’s still here with you. in these snacks. in his words. in the little ways he’s still taking care of you.

you text him back immediately: “you’re an idiot. but i love you.”

his reply comes almost instantly. “just wait until i’m back. i’ll sneak way more stuff into your bag.”

you laugh softly, shaking your head, because damn, even from a distance, he’s still making everything feel so damn real.

the next day, hoon’s getting ready to leave, and his members are, as usual, teasing him. sunoo and jungwon are in the van, and they’re not even trying to hide their amusement.

“dude, you’re like obsessed with her,” sunoo teases, grinning like a little shit. “you’ve barely been here all week.”

jungwon raises an eyebrow, smirking. “i thought you were supposed to be the one who couldn’t keep your hands off her, and yet... here we are.”

hoon groans, his face flushed with embarrassment. “shut up, you guys. she’s not just anyone.”

“right, right,” sunoo grins. “she’s the one.”

“can you stop?” hoon mutters, slumping back in his seat. “this is not the time to talk about this.”

but then, sunghoon’s phone buzzes. he glances at it, a soft smile creeping onto his face as he reads the text from you. his heart clenches, but before he can respond, sunoo smirks again.

“she texted you again? still sending you love notes, huh?”

hoon doesn’t say anything, just stares out the window, because damn, he’s going to miss this. miss her.

but for now? he has one more ride with his members. one more teasing session. one more stolen moment of normal before everything changes.

your night starts normal. you're back at your dorm after a schedule, hair tied up, hoodie on, eating cereal for dinner while watching a romcom you’ve seen a hundred times. your phone buzzes with messages from your members, random memes and updates. nothing special. just another quiet night.

until one of them says, “hey, did someone order food?”

you blink. “no?”

they go to check anyway, and you hear faint footsteps in the hallway. a small knock. then—quiet.

a beat.

another beat.

“um… you might wanna see this,” your member calls.

you shuffle to the door, cereal still in hand, until you freeze in the doorway. because standing there, wearing a black cap and a freaking mask under a hoodie is sunghoon.

real. in the flesh. looking at you like no time has passed.

your cereal bowl literally drops on the floor. he flinches. “whoa—are you okay?”

you don’t even answer. you launch yourself at him, arms around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder.

“you asshole,” you mumble. “you’re actually here?!”

“yeah,” he whispers. “i’m here. i’ve always been here.”

later that night, you’re on the rooftop again. the same one from before. the one with memories still stitched into the wind.

sunghoon brought your favorite drink, two snacks from the convenience store, and a blanket. he didn’t need to go overboard—he just needed to be there.

he pulls you into his side, both of you wrapped in that soft blanket, backs against the wall as the city lights flicker below.

“i missed you every single day,” you whisper.

he kisses your temple gently. “i never stopped loving you. even when i had to pretend.”

you look up at him. “so… what now?”

sunghoon turns toward you with the softest smile ever. “we keep going. even if we’re shadows in our own love story. even if the world never knows.”

“we’ll still have our little world?” you ask.

“always.”

he leans in and kisses you, slow and full of all the months you’ve both spent waiting. and in that moment, even the moon feels like it’s holding its breath for you two.

and your love does continue. hiding in plain sight. anonymous glances in music shows. strangers in public, lovesick fools in secrecy. hotel rooftop dates. secret messages in fan letters. little scribbles in notebooks. a hoodie that smells like the other person. staff members who pretend not to know. call signs – he'd call you yeowoo (fox or yeobo / honey), as cringe as that sounds, you call him pengsoo(nghoon) anyway. and a love that burns quietly, brightly—behind closed doors.

and maybe… just maybe… both of you’ll last.

a/n: that's the end. thankyou for readingggg

taglist: @kpoplover-19 @kpoppiesofinternet @hooni3luvs @stta-princess @softservesungie

@starry-eyed-bimbo @jessicaradreamer @btsreadss @butterflydemons @honnieswife

@synielve

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rainrot4me · 15 days ago

Note

What are each of the creeps' way of claiming the reader as theirs? Like, a subtle way of letting others know "this one is mine." ex: An accessory, a visible mark they left, etc.

✦ . jeff the killer

Visible bite marks and nail scratches in intimate places, usually where others just barely catch a glimpse.

He also makes you wear his hoodie, bloodstains and all, and doesn’t care that it’s oversized. It smells like him. That’s the point.

“Let ’em stare. If they’re lookin’, they’re learnin’. That’s mine. Touch them, and I’ll carve a smile so wide, you’ll never close your mouth again.”

✦ . ticci toby

Carves little symbols into your belt or your shoes. Subtle at first… but they’re coded. He knows what they mean. So do the others.

He likes to linger when others are around—palming the back of your neck, whispering close to your ear, keeping eye contact with whoever’s watching.

“Cute shoes. Wonder who put tha-that symbol there… Huh. Looks familiar, doesn’t it, Brian?”

✦ . eyeless jack

He’ll whisper your name low against your skin or speak to you in an ancient tongue only you can hear, a language no one else understands. It clings to you like smoke. People can feel it.

He also leaves very faint, almost animalistic bite marks where no one but you or another monster would know to look.

“They’re staring again. Maybe I should remind you you’re mine.”

✦ . masky (tim wright)

You’ve always got bruises—some from “training,” others from rough kisses. He smudges your lipstick with his thumb and doesn’t wipe it off his hand.

Makes you wear his jacket when others are too close. Smells like smoke and leather.

“That jacket look familiar? Good. Keep starin’. They don’t need you to talk to them—they’re already taken.”

✦ . hoodie (brian thomas)

He’s a photographer—he takes candid, blurry, intimate Polaroids of you and keeps one in his pocket. Sometimes he leaves one where others will find it.

He lets you wear one of his flannel shirts or hoodies and always has a hand low on your back, guiding you. Never obvious. But dominant.

“Smile for the camera, sweetheart. I want them to remember your face when they realize they can’t have it.”

✦ . kate the chaser

Paints your nails black with a blood-red tip. Her version of tagging you. She does it after missions, bruised knuckles and all.

She never lets anyone stand between you. When they try, she moves closer. No words. Just a glare.

“Touch them again. I never miss what I’m hunting. Especially not what’s mine.”

✦ . ben drowned

He codes a secret signature into your laptop wallpaper or phone lock screen—an old pixel heart that flickers with his name.

His bites leave a glitch-like welt on your skin, faint but digital-looking. “A part of the game,” he says.

“Nice background, huh? Yeah. That’s them. Try touching them and you’ll get debugged.”

✦ . clockwork

Leaves lipstick marks on your neck and jaw. She wants people to see them. Also occasionally loans you one of her knives.

Will randomly pull you into her lap during conversations with others, resting her chin on your shoulder like, mine.

“See this? Yeah, I left it there. Right next to that vein. Thought about nicking it, but… they purr too pretty.”

✦ . laughing jack

Paints a tiny symbol behind your ear or under your wrist in invisible ink that glows under blacklight. He’s the only one who can see it.

Gifts you creepy handmade trinkets: a little clown charm with your initials. Keeps the matching one around his neck.

“You’re part of the act now, sugar. And every circus has its star. Too bad for them—you’re already taken by the ringmaster.”

✦ . slenderman

His tendrils wrap briefly around your wrist when someone gets too close. Like a leash. Or a warning.

Your voice echoes differently when you say his name. Like it vibrates with something unnatural.

“They are not to touch what is mine. Let them feel the air still and the forest turn its gaze. You are claimed in ways they cannot comprehend.”

꩜ .ᐟ

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k-tarotz · 7 months ago

Text

PAC - 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒖𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒇𝒍𝒂𝒈𝒔

Hello our lovelies we hope you are doing well! Since Christmas is around the corner, this year I will do a pac focused on the good things only! Therefore I thought about doing green flags only, related to your future spouse - and since there are a few people here who aren't into marriage it's completely fine to read this for your next partner / your special person! This is a timeless reading so feel free to read it whenever. Please keep in mind that tarot and intuition isn't anything written in stone though! Now let's get into it.

PAC masterlist Ko-fi Paid readings

𝓟𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓮

First of all what comes through for you pile one is that your future spouse will be someone grounded and they deeply value shared memories with you. Your future spouse will remember a lot things about you, your favorite snacks, the veggies you dislike, and small none important things like the characters you hate or like in a show. They will help you cherish the smaller things in life also. Also even though they have a phone with good camera, they might own a literal camera or camcorder. For some of you that could be a Polaroid camera, for others it could be something like Canon or as mentioned one that's similar like in the picture. Your future spouse is likely artistic in some way! They enjoy self expression and to be creative, always seeking beauty in the world. Will definitely share pictures with you, either of things that remind them of you or of nature pictures that they took. They are very kind, for some of you they might have an innocent touch to themselves.

𝓟𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓽𝔀𝓸

Alright pile two for you what immediately comes through is that your future spouse will be a great listener, they will make you feel heard and understood. This person won't be good at comforting with words, instead they comforting with actions; hugging you, holding you, rubbing your back gently and as already mentioned listening to you without interrupting you or making it about themselves. Their love language is definitely skinship and quality time. Your future spouse is very into music, they are the type to make a whole music Playlist just for you. They value deep conversations and are calm and peace oriented, isn't a drama person. For most of you this person will actually choose personality over looks, for the few others - even of they prioritize other things like looks, they will also only stay for personality, they might have higher standards because of their family or career not naturally in that case. Oh they are also the type of person to listen to songs depending on their mood, unless it's a song they just find catchy. They might be a hopeless romantic or just genuinely a bit cheesy. Your future spouse will give you compliments on multiple different things, not just your outfits, because they are attentive.

𝓟𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓮

Pile three for you, your future spouse is someone who is fond of animals and/or little kids and for most of you they already have/had at least one (like either has/had an animal or for some of you has a child / has a very young family member that they help taking care of at times) that means that your future spouse is someone responsible and dependable. Like you can ask them for something and you know they will actually do it and not just say so. They will make you feel cherished and safe. Might be a bit overprotective of you, although nothing crazy or toxic just actually cares deeply about you. You will be their number 1. This person is very loyal and committed, they will love you with all their heart. For some of you this person has big goals in life, yet is grounded and reasonable. For the others, especially if you are a bit younger in general, this person will be a bit of a goof ball? at times like isn't too future oriented yet and is very playful and a bit awkward at time in a cute way you know, of course still very dependable and reliable! Your future spouse seems like a very empathic person with a gentle loving heart.

Thank you all for reading, I hope you enjoyed my little pac! Please like and repost this to support our blog, thank you ♡ if you would like to support us by buying a reading from us or making a small donation through our ko-fiit would mean the world to us! <3

- Hun

#pac #pick a photo #love pick a card #pick a number #pick a picture #pick a pile #pick a card #pap #fs #fs reading #fs tarot #intuitive reading #fs pac #pac future spouse #next partner #tarot reading #love pac #future spouse reading

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starmocha · 4 months ago

Note

sylus, zayne and caleb: who asks mc for nudes the most?

especially when she's away on training? or on a mission?

who's needier? (personal opinion is zayne would behave but then he'd break and i mean *break* and request the filthiest pics/videos. but then again caleb is a puppy. sylus has self control but as his heatwave secret time showed us, he can be very very veeeeery needy)

do you think they keep all the pics/vídeos or delete them with a heavy heart out of fear of their phones getting stolen and exposing mc to some lowlife unworthy of even mentioning her name?

what about pics/vídeos during sex? we already know sylus and mc are making their little vídeos, but I think sylus also has a polaroid collection of mc under him, on top, on all fours--he gets addicted to the way she looks while he's inside her

caleb would totally be into recording too

zayne's trickier, I think

mc would probably have to initiative the pic taking event lmao it'd have to be when things are innocent enough and she's saying she just wants some cute pics of him

she riles him up so much that he snaps a pic at the exact moment she's got his entire lenght in her mouth and is looking up at him and he says he wants some cute pics too

but I don't know, would love to hear your opinion if you're not to busy

sincerely,

an anon who's in the middle of a very stupid work conference and is very bored ☺️

😭 oh this was a good one to think about. …I don’t know why I wrote it like this, but let’s just roll with it lol

Personally, I don’t think any of them will ask directly for nudes. They’re all gentlemen. Of course, they wouldn’t be opposed if they’re offered some instead.

Video Call

Sylus is so tech-savvy, we’re not discussing that enough. He would for sure have a secret encrypted folder full of sexy photos and videos for his own personal viewing pleasure. His collection consists of all the ways he would take her and capturing her face at the exact moment she has an orgasm. After all, he doesn’t think it’s fair that only he sees it. He wants her to also see what she looks like as she comes around him. OK, my mind wandered a little too much this afternoon…this has nothing to do with what I had written above, but…squint and maybe it does…

Thinking of Sylus away on some hush-hush “business” trip. It’s been hard getting in contact with him. Perhaps there are no signals where he’s at.

The one evening she decides to break out her favorite “toy”, she gets a call from Crow Man himself, but it’s not just any call. He wants to video chat. Embarrassed, she quickly puts on a robe and tries to act normal as she answers his call.

He raises a brow, both confused and amused by what he is seeing. “Why is your face so red?”

She lies and says she had just finished doing some cardio exercises.

He calls her out on her bullshit. At that moment, they hear a faint buzzing noise in the background.

Shit. She forgot to turn the toy off before answering the call. With him watching knowingly, she has no choice but to confess.

“Really? A toy will get you off better than me?” He’s skeptical that she can be fully satisfied by a toy.

Indignant, she tells him that she already had two orgasms before he called.

Amused and intrigued, he challenges her to test it out in front of him. He would love to be proven wrong.

She’s caught off guard by his comment. Even more embarrassed, she asks meekly, “A-are you asking me to…in front of you?”

He nods and crosses his arms. “Unless you don’t think you can—”

“Fine!” She knows he is riling her up on purpose, but the mere idea of having him watch her is oddly arousing.

After finding a way to position the phone so he can see her perfectly, she disrobes and picks up the toy again. Sylus wouldn’t exactly say he is an expert on the different models of toys available, so he watches with intrigue as she positions the small toy, and the moment she feels it pulsing against her, she gasps, still sensitive from her previous climaxes.

Sylus draws in his own breath, silently cursing that he’s not in the same room with her right now. He watches in amazement as she shows off the different settings. Quick short bursts. Long, dragged out pulsing.

But her favorite? It’s the one that vibrates steadily and every few seconds, it sends a powerful pulse that has her arching, crying out. She maximizes the strength, and Sylus is getting hard at hearing how powerful the toy is, watching with darkened eyes as she loses herself, forgetting him and is entirely focused on chasing her next climax. With the way her clit is stimulated so heavenly, she isn’t even aware that Sylus had started his own fun, his hand wrapped around his large length as he strokes himself to the same pacing as her. It isn’t long before she comes again, the way she moans is enough to have Sylus spilling into his hand, panting along with her.

“Well,” he laughs, looking at the evidence in his hand, “You’ve certainly proven me wrong, sweetie.”

A few days later, she receives a mysterious package, giftwrapped in black. Upon opening it, she discovers several different new toys, a giant bottle of lube, and a bright red lacy teddy. There is a note: Play date this Friday?

Text Messages

Going feral at the idea of sweet, well-mannered Zayne being the filthiest. It’s always the innocent ones… Perhaps, she had a role in bringing out this side of him. After all, we know Zayne won’t do anything unless he has permission.

Zayne wouldn’t even think of initiating something like this.

But she would.

After hearing a co-worker share her experience with her boyfriend, she is now intrigued about trying something like this out with Zayne.

With him away on a business trip, she sends daily casual text messages to keep in touch.

Have you arrived safely yet?

What’s your hotel like?

Have you eaten yet?

I miss you.

Sleep early!

Are you tired? Don’t forget to rest!

It’s all so innocent and mundane, Zayne suspects nothing.

Then comes that message. It’s a video attachment. He clicks it and nearly drops his phone.

On the screen is his beautiful girlfriend, completely nude and her legs spread apart for the camera.

There’s a caption on the video:

Have a special treat waiting for you when you come home.

She squirts some cold whipped cream between her legs before dragging a dollop onto her finger and sucking it clean. She asks him sweetly, “Zaynie, you will help me finish this right?”

He can’t think straight, but he feels like he needs to catch the next flight back to Linkon now.

His phone starts pinging nonstop.

There are more risqué photos and videos. He’s losing his mind at seeing her posed in such provocative positions with so many different sexy expressions.

As he’s scrolling down this treasure trove of pictures and video clips, he gets another message:

I miss you, Zaynie. I can’t wait to have you inside me again. <3

*With me again. Darn that autocorrect ;)

Polaroids

Virgin Caleb is going to want to experiment with everything, including taking pictures and recording videos. I mean, he’d be cool with everything. It gets lonely in Skyhaven, so having some photos around the house would make coming home more…exciting. He would also keep that one special polaroid in his wallet.

Can’t stop thinking of Caleb and her finding an old polaroid camera and bringing it home one afternoon. They take some silly photos and experiment with it around her apartment. When they start play fighting, he accidentally pins her down, her shirt riding up to expose her chest and the camera snaps.

She’s not wearing a bra.

He’s straddling her.

The photo prints out.

As seconds tick by, the photo develops completely and it’s a perfect shot of her torso. Her shirt is pushed up, her beautiful breasts the main focus. Caleb swallows, his eyes darting from the polaroid to her pink nipples, knowing he should get off of her, but...he needs to get off now.

“Um…”

She teases him. “Are you hard already?”

He flusters and tries to glare at her, but it’s so hard to be mad when she looks so cute underneath him like that. Instead, he smirks and holds the camera up again.

“We’ve bought so many films,” he says mischievously, “we should put them to good use.”

She takes the first photo from him and presses her lips to it, her bright red lipstick staining the polaroid. He is even more turned on now. She waves it playfully at him, saying, “A gift for the colonel.”

Fuck.

They’re gonna have so much fun with the camera. He plans on taking enough to keep him entertained the next time he does patrol through the Deepspace Tunnel.

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txrully · 8 months ago

Text

BLLK BOYS' CHRISTMAS GIFTS!

chars: isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, chigiri hyoma, mikage reo, hiori yo, shidou ryusei, itoshi sae, michael kaiser, alexis ness x fem! reader (all seperate)

a/n: whew that's a lot of characters.. ;-;

isagi yoichi

he’s overthinking. like, seriously overthinking. this man has researched “best gifts for girlfriends” on google at least five times. a candle? too basic. jewelry? what if you don’t like it? a heartfelt handwritten letter? too corny.

it takes bachira dragging him to a mall (where he immediately gets overwhelmed by the crowds) to finally decide. he ends up picking out a cute sweater that’s totally your style and pairs it with a charm bracelet he thinks would look adorable on you. bonus: he spends an extra half hour wrapping it perfectly. there’s no way he’s messing this up.

... except he accidentally forgets the tag and panics, scribbling a little sticky note with “to the best girlfriend ever :)” right before handing it to you.

bachira meguru

bachira’s gift? chaotic perfection. this man goes all out, no second-guessing. he decides on a custom plushie that looks like you and him as little cartoon characters (it’s both adorable and mildly terrifying, let’s be real).

but that’s not all. he also makes a scrapbook filled with random polaroids of the two of you – some cute, some extremely cursed – and decorates every page with colorful doodles and washi tape.

he doesn’t bother with wrapping paper, though. he hands it to you in a giant gift bag covered in glitter with the words “BEST GIRLFRIEND IN THE WORLD!” written in permanent marker.

rin itoshi

rin claims he doesn’t “do christmas.” yeah, okay, mr. grinch. except he totally does, because he’s secretly been working on his gift for weeks. he gets you something practical but meaningful, like a sleek pair of headphones in your favorite color, engraved with your initials.

oh, and he throws in a tiny sanrio keychain because he noticed you staring at one in a store once. (yes, he remembers these things. don’t ask how.)

he doesn’t say much when he gives it to you, just a quiet “merry christmas” while awkwardly avoiding your gaze. but you catch the little smile when you say you love it, and it’s the best present of all.

nagi seishiro

nagi... completely forgot it was christmas until reo reminded him. but don’t worry, he’s got this! (or so he claims.)

his idea of a “perfect” gift is something chill and cozy – like a weighted blanket and a pair of fluffy socks, because he knows you love staying warm. he wraps them in the most halfhearted way possible, with tape sticking out everywhere and zero attempt at folding the edges.

“it’s what’s inside that counts,” he mumbles when you laugh at the wrapping job. you love it anyway, because it’s so him. and when you catch him napping under that same blanket with you later, you know he secretly loves it too.

chigiri hyoma

chigiri’s gift is effortlessly elegant, just like him. he spends weeks planning it out because he wants everything to be perfect. he gets you a delicate necklace with a tiny charm that reminds him of you – maybe a snowflake or a flower.

but that’s not all. he also bakes you cookies (yes, chigiri bakes, fight me on this) and arranges them in a cute little tin with a handwritten card. the card? it’s filled with heartfelt words that make you tear up just a little.

when you thank him, he gives you one of those soft smiles that makes your heart race. “only the best for you,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

mikage reo

reo spoils you. like, you tried to tell him to keep it small this year, but does reo listen? absolutely not.

his gift is an entire experience – dinner at a fancy restaurant, followed by a private ice-skating session (because, of course, he booked the whole rink). then he hands you a perfectly wrapped box containing the most beautiful dress (or outfit) he picked out just for you.

“i saw it and thought it’d look amazing on you,” he says casually, like he didn’t spend hours agonizing over it. you try to scold him for going overboard, but he just grins. “your happiness is worth it.”

hiori yo

hiori is the thoughtful gift-giver. he listens to every little thing you say and somehow remembers it all.

so when you open his gift, you’re stunned to find it’s exactly what you mentioned months ago – whether it’s a book you wanted to read, a cozy hoodie you loved, or even that random stuffed animal you gushed about once in passing.

he also includes a playlist he made just for you, filled with songs that remind him of you and your time together. when you tell him how much it means to you, he gives you a shy smile and says, “i just wanted to make sure you felt special.”

shidou ryusei

shidou’s gift? utterly unhinged but somehow sweet in the weirdest way possible. he buys you a gigantic stuffed animal—like, it barely fits through the door. why? because he “wants you to think of him when you’re hugging it.” (as if you could forget him even if you tried.)

but wait, there’s more. he also gives you a pair of matching pajamas. yes, matching. one side is obnoxiously pink with sparkly hearts (yours), and the other is black with a neon skull print (his).

when you ask him why, he just smirks and goes, “so everyone knows we’re the ultimate power couple, babe.” obnoxious? yes. thoughtful in his own shidou way? absolutely.

itoshi sae

sae doesn’t do christmas gifts. or so he says. but then he shows up at your place with a sleek little bag in hand, acting like it’s not a big deal.

inside? the perfect pair of winter gloves—luxurious, soft, and in your favorite color. oh, and he picked out a matching scarf, because, in his words, “you’re always complaining about being cold.”

he tries to play it cool when you gush over the gift, but you catch the tiniest smirk when you wrap the scarf around your neck. “don’t make it a big deal,” he mutters, but the way he watches you wear it says otherwise.

michael kaiser

kaiser’s gift is pure drama. he makes an event out of it, because, of course, he has to be the center of attention. he leads you on a whole scavenger hunt through the house, complete with cryptic notes and hints that are honestly harder than necessary.

when you finally reach the last clue, it’s a big box wrapped in glittery gold paper with an obnoxiously large bow. inside? a designer coat that probably cost more than your rent.

“only the best for my empress,” he says with that signature smug grin, pulling you into his arms. when you point out he went way overboard, he shrugs and smirks. “you’re worth it.”

alexis ness

ness is the ultimate cinnamon roll gift-giver. he spends weeks making something special for you—like a scrapbook filled with photos, ticket stubs, and little notes from your time together.

but he also surprises you with something cozy, like a fluffy blanket or a custom sweater he picked out because he knows you’re always cold.

when you thank him, his cheeks turn pink, and he shyly mutters, “i just wanted you to have something that feels like a hug from me.” (stop. he’s too precious.)

do not copy, translate, plagiarize, or post my works on other platforms.

likes and reblogs appreciated :) <3

hmmm should i make a part 2 w other characters? pls lmk! ^^

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woso-dreamzzz · 7 months ago

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Sunshine's Halloween

Mapi León x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader

Summary: The sixteenth of my Halloween-centric fics

Ingrid smiles fondly over the rim of her coffee mug, leaning against the door frame as Mapi zips up your sunflower costume.

The petals frame your face as Mapi drops a kiss to the very tip of your nose.

It's so sweet and so domestic and Ingrid's heart swells at the scene, especially when Bagheera comes wandering over to rub her cheeks against your legs.

"Looking good," Mapi says, grinning as she lays another kiss onto your nose," And we're all ready to go."

"No, we're not," You giggle," Mama's still drinking her coffee! We can't leave if Mama hasn't finished her coffee!"

Ingrid grins down at her drink.

"Oh, silly me!" Mapi laughs," That's right, we can't leave without Mama finishing her coffee or she'll turn into a monster!"

You giggle as Mapi tickles your tummy.

"Go and say goodbye to the birds," She says, nudging you towards your room," And when you come back, Mama will have finished."

Mapi's only half right of course because Ingrid makes the point of still having some dregs left in the mug by the time you come back, fresh from kissing your birds goodbye.

But it's not much longer to wait and soon you're wandering into the locker room with your little flower Halloween bucket.

"Trick-or-Treat!" You call out, giggling as the girls coo over your cool, new costume.

"Yeah," Mapi teases," Load it up! We're feasting tonight!"

"No, we're not," Ingrid cuts in with an eye roll," Because we're demonstrating healthy eating, remember?"

"Kill joy."

"What was that?"

"Just...er...muttering about how much I love and adore you!"

"Uh-huh, sure."

You're not listening to the bickering of your mothers though as your aunties drop sweeties into your bucket under your watchful eyes.

You wait.

They look back at you.

"It's your turn!" You tell them in exasperation," Trick-or-Treat for you!"

For a moment, no one says anything. Maybe in shock or maybe in them being doubtful that you have sweets to give them back.

But, finally, your auntie Frido speaks.

"Trick-or-Treat?"

You grin at her, rummaging around in your coat pocket for a moment to fish out a polaroid picture of her you took yesterday. You hand it to her, absolutely beaming.

"Treat!" You answer, giggling as Frido stares at her 'treat' with a fond smile.

"Thank you, y/n," Frido says, dropping a soft kiss onto your cheek," But you didn't have to get us anything."

"But it's nice," You reply with a little giggle," Because everyone deserves treats!"

Frido glances at Ingrid. "I swear, what are you teaching this girl? She's just so sweet."

Ingrid smiles down at you, eyes following after you as you wander around handing out your photos in return for sweets.

Mapi's holding your bucket, her gleeful smile just getting wider and wider as it gets fuller and fuller and Ingrid already knows that Mapi's the one that she's going to have to fight to not gorge herself tonight.

You don't seem to care about the sweets at all, looking like you only view them as a way to hand out the cute pictures you took yesterday at trainin.

"Mapi," Ingrid says in warning," You know you're not allowed to eat all of those tonight, right?"

"What? Why not?"

"Well, mostly because they're not yours and because you'll make yourself sick."

"I can deal with it!"

"And if you eat sweets then our daughter wants to eat sweets and if she eats sweets, she'll feel sad that Bagheera and her birds aren't eating sweets and then she'll give them sweets. So I'll have you and her and the animals on a sugar high. No one is having sweets tonight. Except for me."

"What? Why?!"

"Because I know about moderation," Ingrid says with a grin, kissing Mapi's pouty lips," And because I know there's sweets in there that neither you or Sunshine will eat."

"Well...I..."

"Go and get our daughter," Ingrid says fondly," Before she talks Alexia's ear off."

Both of your mothers turn to look at how you're sitting on your Tia Ale's lap.

"And this one is of you and your baby Mija when you brought her to practice. She's smiling because I think she's happy that you're her Mami."

Alexia's bottom lip trembles and her face washes with emotion and Mapi's kind of worried she's going to burst into tears over such a sweet gesture with Mija asleep in the carrier placed in Alexia's cubby.

"Come here, Sunshine," Mapi calls," Let's leave your Tia Ale with her Mija, huh? I think the staff have more sweeties for you to collect."

#woso x reader #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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miyasmagnolias · 5 days ago

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𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐭 ⏾ ࣪ ˖ ⊹

miya atsumu x f!reader

atsumu takes you on a date to the university night market. everything is perfect — until you run into the last two people he ever wanted you to meet.

part twelve of the in close quarters series, a friends-to-lovers college AU featuring you, atsumu, and the ten months you spend living together senior year.

"I can't — " you stammered, chopsticks clamoring onto your plate in defeat. "I can't eat another bite. I feel delirious right now."

Beside you, Atsumu folded another dumpling into his cheek like a squirrel. "Ya tappin’ out now? I thought ya wanted to get our picture up on the wall of fame!"

"Goddamn it. You're right," you growled, pointing at the poor eighteen year-old boy who had been serving you dim sum for the past hour. "How many more before we get our picture taken?"

"Uh..." The waiter quickly counted the empty plates scattered around your cramped table. "Between the two of you? Seven."

"That's not bad," Atsumu said behind a mouthful of pork.

"Not bad at all," you grumbled, picking up your chopsticks with a renewed sense of purpose. You wiped off the sweat that had formed on your brow and said, "So much for looking pretty on our first date."

"I dunno," Atsumu drawled, dividing the remainder of the dumplings between you — four for him, three for you. "Yer awfully cute when yer determined.”

"Hush and eat your dumplings," you snapped at him, uncapping the lid off a fresh cup of chili oil. "We're getting a cute Polaroid of us."

Atsumu had expected a couple of things to happen on your first date. One, he expected you to make him nervous (because when did you not). And two, he expected the atmosphere to lean somewhat romantic. After all, your university's annual night market was a prime spot for first dates — with all the string lights and food stalls and thousands of opportunities to feed each other. The tickets couldn't have gone on sale at a better time.

What he didn't expect was for you, in the middle of exploring, to find a dim sum stall who promised all parties who ate twenty-five dumplings a person a photo on their commemorative wall of fame.

"We have to do it," you deadpanned, staring at the collection of Polaroid photos tacked onto the back of their makeshift dining stall. "Think of how memorable it would be!"

Now, Atsumu felt less like he was on a romantic date with you and more like you were on an intense leg of The Amazing Race. Sweat sheening. Stomachs distending. Morale lowering by the second. In fact, as he shoveled another dumpling into his mouth, he half-expected Phil Keoghan to appear and tell them they'd been eliminated. The energy was that palpable.

But as you practically inhaled the chili oil up your nose, sending you into a half-coughing, half-laughing fit, Atsumu couldn't help but crack up. You looked adorable when you set your mind to something. And, if he were being honest, he'd had more fun on this date than all of his previous first dates combined.

Perhaps things were leaning more romantic. Just not the type of romantic he expected.

"Good job," the waiter said flatly after you both had finished the last of the dumplings. Stomachs full. Souls depleted. "Let me grab the Polaroid camera from my boss."

"You alive?" you asked Atsumu, slumped against him in the wooden booth you both shared. A low burp grumbled out of him in response.

"I feel pregnant," he murmured, brown eyes glazed over in delirium. "I hope it's a girl.”

You snorted, a hiccup escaping your lips. "What are you, a seahorse?"

The waiter returned not a moment later with the check and the Polaroid camera, Atsumu's hands sinking into the flesh of your hips as he hoisted you into his lap for the photo. You ended up taking two — one flashing peace signs at the camera for the wall of fame, and another, softer one as a keepsake for the two of you.

"Awe," you gushed, the image of Atsumu pressing a kiss to your cheek slowly developing under the warm lights of the food stall. Your heart swelled at his freshly cut hair, the baby blue button-down he'd rolled at the sleeves. "You look so handsome, Tsumu!"

"Oh, please," he drawled, watching as the polka dots on your blue mini dress grew more vibrant by the second. His breath had caught in his throat the moment you'd stepped out of your bedroom with it on. "Yer the real show stopper ‘ere.”

You tacked your Polaroid onto the wall while Atsumu paid the check, your hand easily slipping into his as you exited the stall and returned to the busy halls of the night market.

As nervous as you'd been to take things further with your roommate of eight months, you also felt a sense of overwhelming relief. After all, you'd spent the latter half of your senior year dancing around each other — sneaking in touches, dismissing flirtation with the flimsy excuse of we're-just-good-friends. It felt good to just act upon your attraction toward one another without restraint. It felt like the puzzle pieces of your relationship were finally falling into place.

"You in the mood for dessert?" you asked him, gesturing to the handful of food stalls selling an assortment of confections: ube soft serve, matcha cake rolls. Mango bingsu and mochi in every flavor you could imagine.

Atsumu let out a low whistle. "Maybe lemme walk this off first?”

Chuckling, you leaned into his side and said, "Fair enough."

Unsurprisingly, the conversation flowed just as easily as it had before. You talked about everything and anything as you wove in and out of the bustling crowd: Atsumu's most recent home game. The progress you'd made on your creative writing thesis. Your predictions for the latest episode of Love Island USA, which you had both planned to watch when you got home.

"Do they all need to make out with each other, though?" Atsumu bemoaned as you waited in line for a Filipino dessert stand that had caught your eye. "That's like, a mono outbreak waitin' to happen."

"But that's what makes it entertaining!" you argued, scanning the display case of ube crinkle cookies, buko pandan, and leche flan. "Nobody watches Love Island for the picture-perfect romance. That's what Norah Ephron is for."

"Still," Atsumu huffed, shaking his head. "Some people oughta be ashamed of themselves..."

He trailed off the moment he spotted them.

There, in the corner of his peripheral vision. He wasn't sure if his mind was playing tricks on him right now, or if the universe actually hated his guts.

Because there, standing at the cash register, was his ex-girlfriend.

And her boyfriend.

Who just so happened to be Atsumu's ex-best friend.

His face drained of color.

"Tsumu?" Akemi asked in disbelief, blinking up at the setter through her long lashes. Before he could even utter a response, her bony arm snaked around his shoulders and forced him into a hug. The smell of her perfume — pungent and floral — careened him into the biggest wave of déjà vu. "It's been so long! How are you?"

"Akemi," Atsumu breathed, gently setting his hands on her shoulders and peeling her off of him. Then, towards the young man that had drawn himself up beside her, "Terushima."

"Well, ain't this a reunion?" his former fraternity brother drawled, flinging his arm around Akemi with a smirk. "We were real worried about you for a sec! Thought you went off the grid."

Atsumu dug his fingernails into his palms, tried to restrain the anger steadily rising in his chest.

"Glad to see the two of ya still together," he managed cordially. They had the audacity to laugh.

"Oh, yeah. We're coming up on what — six months now?" Terushima said, stroking Akemi's hair. "Had to convince this one to finally commit to me. She's a real handful. Though I'm sure you of all people would know, right?"

The question sent a bolt of electricity down Atsumu's spine. He hated how casually Terushima had said it, too. Like they were just old friends catching up.

"Yūji. Stop teasing him," Akemi giggled. Her large, patronizing eyes snapped onto Atsumu's. "Anyways, how are things going? Are you still doing your little volleyball thing?"

"Yeah," Atsumu huffed, trying to swallow down the lump that had formed in his throat. "Yeah, somethin' like that."

She pursed her lips to one side and said, "I'm happy for you, Tsumu. Seriously. You always did enjoy volleyball way more than you enjoyed me." Then, running her long fingernails down Terushima's arm, "I'm just glad I found someone who left all that stuff back in high school."

Her words sounded sweet, but they pierced him between the ribs and twisted, threatening to split him in half. Memories he'd long since withheld came boiling back up to the surface — him, shouting at Akemi down the hallway of the fraternity house. Akemi, throwing her phone at his face. Terushima, throwing Akemi over his shoulder before she could cause any more collateral damage.

Their entire dynamic had been toxic, tiring. Atsumu hadn't been entirely surprised when he found them together at their end-of-year fraternity party. And yet, seeing Terushima on top of her made something in him splinter beyond repair. Told Atsumu everything he suspected of himself and more.

Ya ain't enough. Never have been. Never will be.

The reminder was enough to make his throat close.

"Hey," you said casually, resting your hand on Atsumu's shoulder as you approached. The warmth of your palm jolted him out of his trance, pushed through his icy demeanor like a flower in early spring. "You okay?"

His brown eyes gleamed with an apology he didn't quite know how to voice. Before him, his ex-girlfriend's lips parted in surprise.

"Oh! Are you on a date? She's so cute!" Akemi gushed, leaning forwards like she wanted to pet you. "I'm Akemi, by the way. Atsumu and I used to date."

"Yes, I know who you are," you said, your expression calm. Neutral. You knew Atsumu's history with these people, had thought about it more times than you cared to admit. But actually seeing them in the flesh made something in you shift. Sharpen.

"Well, hopefully he's learned a thing or two since dating me," Akemi drawled, staring at you in what you could only describe as pity. "From one girl to another? Don't provoke him. We used to bitch at each other all the time — it was horrendous."

Careful, now, you thought. Partly to her. Mainly to yourself.

"Really? He isn't like that with me at all."

You could've sworn Akemi flinched.

"...I see," she hummed, schooling her expression. "Well, it's only a matter of time before he shows you his true self."

Furrowing your brow innocently, you said, "Well, maybe he didn't show you his 'true self' because you were too busy fucking his best friend."

Beside you, Atsumu nearly choked. Akemi blanched. Terushima cleared his throat and adjusted his collar.

"Sorry. I don't mean to be crass," you told her. Eyes empty. Tone flat. "But I don't take advice from people with bad character.”

And with that, you took Atsumu's hand and walked in the opposite direction.

"...what assholes," you murmured under your breath, shooting him a displeasured look. "You put up with that shit?"

Atsumu gulped back, unable to find the right words to say. His heart hadn't stoped hammering in his ears.

The sun had long since dipped past the horizon by the time you had escaped the crowd, the two of you now sitting on a bench just outside the night market. Bands of college students, families, and local food enthusiasts buzzed in the background as you unwrapped one of the ube crinkle cookies you'd managed to pay for before all hell broke loose. You tore off a piece and held it out to Atsumu. He popped it into his mouth without a word.

You'd never seen someone eat a cookie more seriously.

"Tsumu," you drawled, brushing the powdered sugar off your fingertips.

"Yeah," he clipped, his tone flat. Dismissive.

"Your face."

"What about it?"

"You look constipated."

A muscle in his jaw ticked. "I dunno. Maybe it's the dumplin’s.”

"Sure," you chuckled. You folded the plastic wrapping of the cookie and gingerly slid it back into your purse. "Do you wanna talk about it? You know, how the dumplings made you feel?"

"Not really," he mumbled, folding his arms across his chest. Then, after an excruciatingly long minute, "I just think it's funny how they think they can talk to me like that, ya know? Like they didn't totally stab me in the back."

"I know."

"And you. God — " He ran a hand over his face. "I didn't know ya had that in ya! I mean, I was mad. But you...you were irate."

"Irate," you breathed, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling. "You did today's Wordle, didn't you?"

"It was a good word!” he exclaimed. He pinched the inner corners of his eyes and sighed, his anger morphing into something softer. More vulnerable. "Ya know, that lil’ stunt ya pulled back there? That was...the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me."

Your heart splintered at his confession. "Really?"

Atsumu winced. "Kinda a low bar, ain't it?"

"A little — but that's okay!" you insisted as Atsumu hid his face in his hands and groaned. You reached out and pried his hands away from his embarrassed expression. "What matters most to me is that you're okay."

"Yeah," Atsumu reassured you with a nod. He pulled your hands into his lap and gave them a gentle squeeze. "Yeah, I am. Just...weird runnin' into them after so long, ya know?"

"Yeah, I get it,” you said. "Probably doesn't help that it was on our first date, either."

"Just my luck, eh?" Atsumu scrubbed his hair out and laughed miserably. "Argh — I'm sorry. I had this whole plan! Tonight was supposed to be fun, not…traumatizin'."

“Well, for what it's worth, I had a lot of fun going off on your ex."

"Yeah, honestly? That was pretty fun to see,” he said. A comfortable silence washed over the both of you, filled only by the sound of distant laughter and buzzing cicadas.

"I'm not usually a confrontational person," you admitted after a while, running your thumb across the back of his hand. "But when I heard how they were talking to you, something in me just...snapped. I couldn't stand it."

He looked you in the eye at that moment, brown eyes gleaming with an emotion you couldn't quite place.

"Sometimes I think yer the only thing holdin' me together these days.”

You shook your head. "Tsumu..."

"I'm bein’ serious!" he said, turning to face you on the bench. "Y/N, I was so fuckin' pathetic before I met ya. Ya should've seen me the day I caught those two together.”

He could still remember the details of that night, if he reached far back enough. Him, volatile and drunk out of his mind. The Uber driver, kicking him out two blocks from Osamu and Suna's house. He was pretty sure he vomited into one of their house plants before they found him there on the front porch, angry tears streaking down his face. He looked pitiful. Heartbroken.

That day used to hurt whenever he thought about it. Now, it just felt like scar tissue. Still tender, but not nearly as painful.

You gazed at him with a gentle look in your eye and murmured, "Well...I'm here now."

Atsumu's throat bobbed as he looked down at your joined hands. A small smirk flickered onto his lips.

"Yeah. What took ya so long?"

"Excuse me?" you guffawed, nudging him in the shoulder. "I wasn't the one doing keg stands with the worst people on Earth."

"One, ouch," he said, shooting you an offended glare. "Two, fraternities aren't that bad. Ya know, minus all the hazing and infidelity."

You rolled your eyes, though a laugh rumbled out of you. "People will do anything for belonging and a beer."

"Can't argue with ya there," he exhaled, his gaze affixed on the full moon casting white shadows across the campus pavement. "Can we go home and watch Love Island now? I've had enough real-life drama for today."

"Couldn't have said it better myself," you agreed, standing up from the bench and stretching your arms towards the night sky. "Oh, and Atsumu?"

"Hm?"

"If it makes you feel any better, I still had a great time tonight."

"Really?" he asked, a grin blooming across his face as he stood. You nodded.

"Yeah! I'd love to do it again sometime," you said, smiling up at him sweetly. Then, before you could stop yourself, "We can invite my ex-boyfriend while we're at it, too."

He buried his face into your shoulder and groaned. "Yer unbelievable, ya know that, right?"

Your laughter reverberated off the campus buildings as you flung your arms around each other and began the long walk home.

@miyasmagnolias, 2025

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