#these were all jokes just for the funnies | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pbaz7 · 2 days ago

Text

FLIGHT 2136: PART 4

paige x azzi

warning: sexual content

word count: 8.6k

A/N: This really somehow turned into a serious lmao. God bless ✈️ anon. I’m thoroughly enjoying writing this one and I’m excited to see where I can take it next. Anything specific people wanna see?? Leave live reacts and comments if you can 🫶🏼🫶🏼

—————————————————————————

After that night their conversations become effortless and automatic. What was once occasional text over a span of a few days here and there now turned into good morning messages, updates throughout the day, and late-night conversations that stretched longer than either of them intended.

Azzi quickly learned that Paige wasn’t actually that bad of a texter–when she wanted to be. It just took a little extra effort. Sometimes, though, she still slipped up, forgetting to reply for hours. When that happened, Azzi would call her, barely waiting for Paige to pick up before saying, “Text me back, genius.”

Paige would mumble out a sheepish, “My bad,” rubbing her eyes. But then, everytime without fail, she’d add, “You look pretty today,” her voice turning soft.

Azzi would roll her eyes, but she couldn’t hide her smile before hanging up.

A few seconds after hanging up, Azzi’s phone would buzz with notifications from Paige—each one carefully addressing everything Azzi had mentioned. It was clear Paige was paying attention, making sure to answer everything, even if it was something small like, "I just got Dairy Queen!" or "I found that song you were talking about."

The Facetimes, once a source of mild resistance from Paige, quickly became something she didn't mind at all. She didn’t grumble about how she didn’t like them anymore. Instead, Paige would simply answer and just prop her phone up and go about whatever random task she was doing, talking with Azzi as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Whether it was shooting in the gym, organizing her room, or just lounging around, Paige would keep the conversation light, letting Azzi watch her move through the motions of her day. And even on days where Paige wasn’t the most animated during their calls, a little spaced out, Azzi could still hear the underlying affection in her voice when she did say something—the way her words were always just a little softer compared to when she talked to everyone else, a little more personal.

Azzi found herself completely captivated by how Paige’s personality started to shine through in their everyday conversations. At first, Paige had always come across as a bit reserved, quiet, especially when surrounded by others–and honestly she still was. But in their moments alone, whether it was through text or FaceTime, Paige’s true colors began to emerge. Azzi had never expected her to be this way–honestly. Paige was a little obnoxious at times, cracking jokes that made Azzi laugh out loud, even when she tried to keep a straight face. Paige could be playful and sarcastic, the type to tease Azzi for the tiniest things, but it was never mean-spirited. It was endearing.

But what Azzi adored most was how gentle and observant Paige was. It was like she had a way of noticing the smallest details, even when she didn’t say anything about them. Whether it was how Azzi would get distracted by the simplests things, or how she picked up on subtle changes in Azzi’s mood, Paige seemed to have this innate ability to read between the lines.

The way these traits blended together–Paige being confident that was borderline cocky at times, a little obnoxious, funny, yet so thoughtful and perceptive–shouldn’t have worked as well as they did, but it was perfect. It was her. And Azzi was starting to realize just how much she loved it. There was something about Paige’s complexity, the contradictions of her personality that made her unique. With every conversation, every little moment, Azzi found herself falling for Paige Bueckers.

Paige didn’t know the exact moment she fell for Azzi. Maybe it had been the night after the USC game, when she sat there in the hotel room, unraveling a part of herself she had never shared with anyone before. When she told Azzi about the accident—some of the details, the conflict she felt all the time, the way she had spent so long resenting the world for what happened but thanking God that it wasn’t worse. And instead of offering empty words or hollow reassurances, Azzi just was—solid, there asking Paige what she needed instead of offering up what she thought she needed to hear. Somehow, within seconds of laying it all out, Azzi had brought her peace. A kind of peace Paige hadn’t even known she was searching for with a simple story about cutting her little brother's hair.

Or maybe it was in the hallway that same night. When she admitted she’d miss Azzi, the words feeling heavier than they should’ve. And Azzi, instead of overcomplicating it, just pulled her in, giving her something to hold onto, a quiet reassurance.

But then sometimes Paige thinks it was the next morning. When Paige, still groggy, had opened her door to find Azzi standing there in full UConn gear, clearly about to leave the hotel. Paige had barely mumbled out a good morning before Azzi stepped forward, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, like it was the most natural thing in the world and handed Paige a coffee, as if she knew that the blonde didn’t sleep much that night.

So yeah, Paige didn’t know the exact moment she fell for Azzi Fudd. But she knew that she had and she knew it happened when she was in California. She knew that she liked how Azzi made her feel. How Azzi made the world seem a little brighter. Like sunshine and rainbows as Paige would often sarcastically say when Azzi told her to cheer up.

Right now Azzi was lying in her bed, her phone propped up against her pillow as she absentmindedly toyed with the drawstring of her hoodie. Paige, on the other hand, was sitting at her desk, hunched over doing—well, Azzi wasn’t sure what exactly.

Azzi narrowed her eyes at the screen. "So, how was your LSU visit?"

Paige snorted, not even looking up. "It was alright."

Azzi raised a brow. "Alright? So… no?"

Paige finally glanced at her phone, looking at Azzi before smiling a little saying, "Not my vibe, is all."

Azzi smirked, shifting onto her side. "I feel like you say that about every team except UConn."

Paige leaned back in her chair, smirking right back. "Maybe I said it about UConn too. I just wouldn’t tell you."

Azzi’s jaw dropped at this. "That’s rude."

Paige just shrugged, clearly unbothered as she went back to whatever she was doing at her desk.

Azzi squinted at her. "What are you doing over there?"

Paige huffed as she leaned back in her chair again, throwing her pencil down on the desk. "I’m trying to do a sudoku."

Azzi snorted. "Why?"

Paige shrugged again.

Azzi’s lips curled into an amused grin as she propped herself up on one elbow. "Since when do you do sudoku?"

Paige groaned, dragging a hand down her face before resting her chin in her palm. "Since today. And probably not after today."

Azzi laughed, shaking her head. "Let me see."

Paige picked up her phone and angled it toward her desk. The screen showed a sudoku puzzle that looked… well, disastrous. Numbers were scratched out at the bottom, some squares had been filled in and erased multiple times, and at least one spot had what looked like a tiny doodle in the corner.

Azzi covered her mouth to muffle her laugh. "Oh my God."

Paige rolled her eyes but smirked. "Okay, mathlete. Relax."

Azzi grinned. "Do you even know the rules?"

"Yes, I know the rules," Paige said. "I just don’t know why there are so many numbers."

Azzi blinked. "Paige… that’s literally the point of sudoku."

Paige let out a deep sigh, tilting her head back. "See? This is why I don’t try new things. I need to just stick to dribbling a basketball."

Azzi hummed. "What’s got you trying new things, then?"

Paige shrugged as she pushed back from her desk and stood, stretching her arms above her head. Azzi watched as the hem of Paige’s shirt lifted, revealing parts of her toned stomach. She hadn’t meant to stare, but—okay, maybe she had a little.

Paige smirked, catching the way Azzi’s gaze lingered. She picked up her phone, bringing it closer to her face. "You’re a pervert."

Azzi scoffed. "I literally didn’t even do anything." But there was a slight smile on her lips, giving her away.

Paige dropped back onto her bed, lying on her side with one arm propped under her head. "You didn’t have to," she mumbled, eyes locked onto Azzi’s through the screen.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, shifting onto her stomach, resting her chin on her hands. "Oh? So now I’m just guilty by association?"

Paige’s smile deepened. "More so guilty by intention but sure."

Azzi let out a breath of laughter, shaking her head. "You’re actually the worst sometimes."

Paige tilted her head. "Am I really?"

Azzi caught the shift in tone, the playfulness turning into something a little more intentional. She pressed her lips together, debating for a second before deciding—fuck it.

"Mhm," Azzi hummed, trailing a finger along the edge of her phone as she watched Paige closely. "But I think you like it that way."

Paige licked her lips, her gaze flickering over Azzi’s face. "Maybe."

Azzi bit her lip, her voice turning softer. "You’re a little smug for someone who just got roasted over sudoku."

Paige grinned. "Mmm course I am, look at how you’re lookin at me."

Azzi exhaled a short laugh. "You’re so annoying."

Paige’s smirk didn’t waver as she said, “No I’m not."

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the way her cheeks warmed. "What am I gonna do with you?"

"I could give you a few ideas."

Azzi blinked, her breath catching just slightly. Paige was really pushing it now.

She swallowed, tilting her head. "Oh yeah?"

Paige nodded, her fingers idly playing with the ring she always wore on her finger. "Mhm. But I think you already know."

Azzi let out a slow breath as she shifted. "You sure you can handle me?"

Paige huffed out a chuckle as she licked her lips. "I think I already showed you I can handle you just fine, Azzi."

Azzi exhaled sharply, her stomach flipping at how Paige was looking at her through the screen—like she knew exactly what she was doing, exactly how she was making her feel.

Azzi bit her lip, her voice softer now. "I miss you."

Paige’s expression softened just slightly, but then, before Azzi could get too caught up in the moment, Paige smirked again. "You’re just horny."

Azzi’s eyes widened, her mouth parting in shock. "Paige!"

Paige just chuckled, clearly enjoying herself. "What? Am I wrong?"

Azzi narrowed her eyes, though the warmth creeping up her neck betrayed her. "You’re disgusting."

Paige propped herself up on her elbow, tilting her head as she studied Azzi through the screen. "I’m just saying… you’re looking at me like you want something."

Azzi huffed, shifting onto her back as she threw an arm over her face for a second before peeking at Paige again. "And what if I do?"

"Then I guess I’d have to do something about it next time I see you."

God, Azzi wished she hadn’t asked that question because now she was warm and uncomfortable, and the worst part was—she knew Paige knew. The way she was chuckling on the other side of the screen, made Azzi squirm even more.

Azzi groaned. "Paige, please."

Paige hummed, all teasing. "Hm?"

Azzi hesitated, debating whether she was really about to ask for help with her… situation, but before she could get the words out, there was a knock on Paige’s door.

Paige’s head moved toward it, her smirk fading slightly. "Yeah?"

The door creaked open, and Drew peeked inside. "Can I sleep in here tonight?"

Paige’s expression shifted instantly—her playfulness replaced with something softer, more serious. She sat up, nodding without hesitation. "Yeah, course." She scooted over on her bed, making space for him near the wall.

Reaching for her phone, she looked down at the screen, her gaze apologetic. "I’m sorry, I gotta go, I’ll text you in a sec."

Azzi shook her head, completely understanding. "Don’t apologize."

Paige gave her a small, grateful smile before they both hung up, leaving Azzi lying there, staring at the ceiling—still warm, still uncomfortable, and now, very much alone with the feelings.

Or at least she thought she was alone—until her phone buzzed a few times.

Azzi grabbed it from beside her, her brows raising slightly when she saw Paige’s name on the screen. She unlocked her phone, and the second she saw what Paige had sent, she felt her stomach tighten.

The pictures weren’t anything too overly suggestive, but they were enough.

Some were mirror selfies—Paige’s sweats low on her hips, her stomach on display, a sports bra the only thing covering her top half. Others were clearly taken after being in the gym, her skin still slightly flushed, her hair damp, the definition in her arms pronounced.

Azzi chuckled when she got to the last one—a hand pic.

All the pictures were followed by a message. "Get yourself right."

Another buzz. "I'm sorry I couldn't help. I got you next time."

Azzi exhaled sharply, her entire body warm, her face buried in her pillow as she groaned.

Somehow, even when she wasn’t physically there, Paige still had her in a chokehold.

Still, Azzi followed directions. She sighed, shifting against her sheets, wishing—aching—that it was Paige’s hand instead of her own.

…

Back in Minnesota Paige lay still beside Drew, both of them staring up at the ceiling, their arms thrown behind their heads in near identical positions as they laid in silence for a few minutes. It was almost uncanny how much they looked alike when you really looked at them, their features reflecting off one another from the dim glow of Paige’s bedside lamp. Drew had gotten older, taller, but in moments like these, Paige was reminded that he was still her little brother—the same kid who used to follow her around with wide eyes, hanging onto every word she said.

The silence stretched between them, Paige figuring Drew was just taking a while to fall asleep. Then, Drew said something.

“That girl you’re always talking to,” he started, his voice quiet but still confident, like Paige had taught him.

Paige turned her head slightly, already knowing where this was going. “Her name’s Azzi,” she corrected, a small smirk playing on her lips.

Drew hummed in acknowledgment. “Is Azzi the reason you’re leaving?”

Paige blinked, caught off guard for a split second before she turned her head to look at him. She studied him for a moment, the way his brows furrowed slightly, waiting for her answer. With a sigh she said, “You know how when you were younger and we always talked about you coming to my games when I got to the league?” she asked.

Drew simply nodded.

Paige exhaled, glancing back up at the ceiling. “That can’t happen if I stay where I’m at now.”

Drew was silent for a moment before he mumbled, “I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you.”

Paige let out a quiet chuckle. “You and Dad are moving to the DMV. I’ll be one call away, I swear.”

Drew turned his head, watching her carefully before he finally asked, “So you’re going to UConn?”

A slow smile spread across Paige’s face as she nodded. “Yeah. I’m gonna go to UConn.”

Drew studied her for another moment, then asked, “Have you told them yet?”

Paige sighed, shaking her head. “No, not yet.”

“Why not?”

Paige turned her head to look at him again, a different kind of warmth settling in her chest. She smirked slightly before answering. “I gotta tell Azzi first.”

Drew’s lips twitched into a grin as he turned onto his side, finally facing the wall to go to sleep. But not before adding, “You like her, huh?”

Paige rolled her eyes, but the smirk never left her lips. “Man, shut up. You’re supposed to be in here going to bed.”

Drew just laughed as he pulled the cover over his head to go to sleep.

Paige grabbed her phone from the nightstand, her fingers lingering over it for a moment before unlocking the screen. She chuckled softly when she saw a message from Azzi sent just three minutes ago. The message was simple, just a “Thank you.” Paige huffed out a quiet laugh when she saw the period.

She quickly typed out a response, her fingers moving without hesitation: Yup. After a brief pause, she added one more message, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she typed: Goodnight beautiful.

She read it over once more, her heart skipping just a little at the words before she locked her phone and set it back on the table. Paige turned off the light and settled into bed, pulling the covers up over her.

She stayed still for a while, her hands tucked behind her head, staring out the window that was across from her bed. The sudden quietness of the room seemed to amplify the thoughts racing through her mind, each one more tangled than the last.

She couldn't help but think of Drew, her little brother, and the way he'd come crawling into her bed tonight, like he’d done so many times before–seeking comfort from the chaos of his own thoughts. Her heart ached just thinking about it. She’d been around for every significant moment of his life, his constant lifeline, and she couldn’t help but feel guilty for leaving him behind, even if it was for the right reasons.

But then, as if the universe was constantly reminding her of the duality of her life, another thought would emerge: the weight of her future, the pressure to fulfill a dream she’d been chasing since she could walk. She wanted to go back to the notoriety she used to have, not because of the attention it gave her, but because of what came with it—the ability to give her family the life they deserved, to give back. To provide for Drew, her dad, her mom.

Paige sighed softly, her body sinking deeper into the mattress, as she tried to will her mind to quiet for just a moment so she could fall asleep. She was exhausted, physically and emotionally, but the thoughts kept coming. She knew it would take time, a lot of effort, and maybe even more sacrifice to make everything fall into place. But for tonight, she just wanted a break from the weight of it all. Just a few minutes of peace. She closed her eyes, exhaling a long breath as she tried to empty her mind, willing herself to relax.

It wasn’t long before another thought slipped into her head—Azzi. This time, instead of adding weight, like everything else, it brought a sense of comfort. Azzi wasn’t like anyone else in Paige’s life. Thinking about Azzi didn’t tighten her chest or add more confusion to her already overwhelming thoughts. When her mind drifted to Azzi, everything else seemed to fade into the background. Because she knew Azzi didn’t expect anything from her. Azzi wasn’t asking Paige to be anyone but herself—she didn’t have any preconceived notions about who Paige used to be. The girl on the other end of those late-night Facetimes only knew Paige from what she’d shared. The thoughts she had were based on the present, not some past version of Paige.

That was the thing that should've terrified Paige. She wasn’t used to feeling so... seen, without the weight of what others thought she should be or the pressure of always having to do the right thing. Azzi didn’t ask for any of that. The simplicity of their connection, how natural it felt, should have sent her running in the opposite direction, a voice in the back of her mind telling her it was too easy, too comfortable for the kind of world they lived in. They hadn’t even had a serious conversation about what they were or what they had going on—and yet, Paige didn’t worry about it.

She should’ve been terrified of how she felt about Azzi already–it had only been a few months. But for some reason, anytime she thought about her, the only thing Paige felt was calmness. She rarely thought about it if she was being honest. It just felt right. Everything about Azzi felt... right. Like the pieces of her life, of their connection, were meant to fall into place in the way they had.

As Paige lay there, still, her mind slowing down for the first time that night she couldn’t help but smile a little. The thought of being around Azzi all the time, physically being with her instead of having to hear her voice through a phone. Being able to physically touch her. It all seemed too good to be true, but Paige didn’t worry about that—she thought just maybe that the universe was finally repaying her.

Third Person POV - March 2024

After taking a shower Paige sat on the edge of her hotel bed, the soft glow of her phone illuminating her face as she idly scrolled, waiting. The room itself was silent, but Paige’s mind was buzzing with anticipation. She knew it was only a matter of time before Azzi texted her or called. It always happened that way after games.

She leaned back against the pillows, letting out a slow breath as she glanced at the time. UConn had won their Sweet Sixteen game against Duke earlier that night, and unknowingly to Azzi, Paige had been there to witness it. She had come down with her dad and Drew, who hadn’t seen UConn play in person yet. The three of them had seats in the stands, and while it felt strange watching from far, Paige loved the experience.

Her dad and Drew were sharing a room down the hall, while she had her own. Now, alone in her room, Paige found herself sitting, waiting—because she knew Azzi would reach out. Azzi never let too much time pass without talking to her.

Right on cue, her phone buzzed. “You up?”

Paige chuckled to herself, shaking her head before typing out a response.

Paige 💗You a 16-year-old boy now?

Azzi’s reply came almost immediately.

Azzi <3 Lol I’ll take that as a yes

Paige smirked, stretching one of her arms over her head before texting back.

Paige 💗I was waiting on you

Azzi <3 Oh yeah?

Paige💗Yeah.

The typing bubbles appeared for a moment before disappearing, and then suddenly, Paige’s screen lit up with an incoming FaceTime call. Her smirk deepened as she swiped to answer, settling back against the pillows.

When the call connected, all Paige could see was the bathroom ceiling, but she could hear Azzi’s voice.

"Why are you always flirting with me?"

Paige laughed. "Cause you like it."

"No, I don’t," Azzi shot back, but there was no real conviction behind her words—it was clearly a lie.

Paige raised an eyebrow, playing along. "No?"

"No," Azzi repeated, but Paige could hear the slight waver in her voice.

Paige chuckled. "Why not?"

There was a pause before Azzi mumbled, "Because all it does is make me sexually frustrated."

Paige smirked at that, biting her lip before saying, "Lemme fix that for you, then."

"Paige, please," Azzi groaned, still off-screen.

Paige chuckled. "Please what?"

"I really can’t handle that today," Azzi muttered. "I won’t be alone for the next week, and I already feel like I’m about to explode."

Paige hummed, amused at Azzi’s frustration. "That’s not a problem."

She heard Azzi groan again, making her chuckle. "Azzi, come to the camera."

There was a beat of silence, then a soft shuffle. A few seconds later, Azzi finally appeared with a towel wrapped around her, clearly fresh out of the shower.

"Where are you?" she asked, scanning Paige’s unfamiliar background.

Paige tilted her head slightly. "My hotel room."

Azzi's expression was filled with confusion. "What? You’re done with visits."

Paige grinned. "That’s what I been tryna tell you." Then, more sincerely, she added, "You played great today, by the way."

Azzi smiled at the compliment before quickly piecing together what Paige was saying. "Wait—you’re here? In Portland?"

Paige simply nodded, watching as realization dawned on Azzi’s face. A grin spread as soon as the realization sank in.

"What room are you in?" she asked, her voice carrying an excitement that wasn’t there before.

"617," Paige answered smoothly.

Azzi didn’t hesitate. "I’ll be down there soon."

Paige hummed in response as Azzi hung up the phone.

A few minutes later a sharp knock at the door shocked Paige a little, but she didn’t hesitate when she got up to answer it. She swung it open without even checking the peephole, already knowing exactly who was on the other side.

Before she could fully take in Azzi’s appearance—her damp hair, the cropped shirt she must’ve thrown on in a hurry—Azzi rushed forward, crashing their lips together.

The kiss from Azzi is urgent and unrestrained. Paige stumbles back a little, her hands instinctively gripping Azzi’s waist as she pulls her in, making sure neither of them lose their balance. The door swings shut behind them with a loud thud, the only sound in the room now is their heavy breaths as they press closer to one another.

Azzi’s hands find Paige’s jaw, tilting her head to deepen the kiss, while Paige steadies them both, her fingers slipping beneath the loose cropped shirt Azzi has on. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing—just unspoken longing spilling over now that they’re finally in the same place again.

After what feels like an eternity of them standing there, Azzi pulls back just enough to whisper against Paige’s lips, “You really didn’t think to tell me you were here?”

Paige smirks, her hands still on Azzi’s waist. “Figured a surprise was more fun.”

Azzi huffs out a small laugh before tugging Paige back in, shaking her head as she mumbles, “You’re ridiculous.” But she doesn’t seem to think so when Paige’s tongue slides in her mouth.

They move together, stumbling but somehow in sync, until they reach the foot of the bed. Despite how frantic it seems, Paige is careful—guiding them, making sure Azzi doesn’t trip over anything in her rush. They stay standing at the foot of the bed for a moment, lost in one another, lips moving, hands exploring like they’re memorizing the feeling of each other.

Then Azzi pulls back just enough, her fingers slipping under the hem of Paige’s shirt. Paige lifts her arms, letting Azzi tug it over her head. The second it’s gone, Azzi discards her own shirt and doesn’t waste another moment before pulling her back in, her lips crashing into Paige’s.

Paige chuckles against her mouth, breaking the kiss just enough to murmur, “Baby, slow down—” her hands find Azzi’s waist, thumbs smoothing over her skin as she whispers, “Lemme see you.”

Azzi, still a little dazed, blinks at Paige and murmurs, “What did you just call me?”

Paige chuckles, shaking her head as she tries to play it off. “Nothing,” she says casually. “I said, lemme see you.”

Azzi doesn’t press—at least, not yet. Instead, she lowers herself onto the bed, looking up at Paige through her eyelashes, the corners of her lips tugging up just slightly.

Paige exhales, rolling her eyes playfully. “Don’t look at me like that.” She steps closer, brushing her thumb along Azzi’s chin, her touch impossibly gentle despite the tension crackling between them.

Azzi tilts her head, feigning innocence. “Like what?”

Paige groans, her fingers curling under Azzi’s chin as she mutters, “Like that.”

Azzi just blinks up at her, a soft smile playing on her lips.

Paige exhales sharply, shaking her head as she steps back. “You know what you’re doing,” she mutters, turning away.

Azzi simply shrugs. “Maybe.”

She watches as Paige leans against the desk across from the bed. Azzi takes her in, letting her gaze roam—Paige’s hair pulled back in a loose bun, her diamond earrings catching the light, the black shorts sitting on her hips, paired with a black Nike sports bra. And then there’s her cross necklace, resting just above her chest.

Azzi smirks. “Why are you dressed like that?”

Paige lifts an eyebrow, silently challenging the question. Like what?

Azzi shakes her head, her smile deepening. “Come here.”

Paige pushes off the desk and walks over, looking at Azzi the entire time. The moment she’s close enough, Azzi reaches for her necklace, curling her fingers around it as she gives a gentle tug, pulling Paige down toward her on the bed.

Paige hovers over Azzi, smiling down at her, amusement flickering in her eyes. Azzi meets her gaze, fingers still curled around the necklace. She gives it another tug, just enough to bring Paige down to her level, and their lips meet again—this one is slower, more intimate, as if they’re finally allowing themselves to just exist in this moment.

There’s no urgency, no frantic need to make up for lost time.

Paige starts to pull away, but Azzi’s fingers tighten around the chain, keeping her close. Their lips reconnect, and Paige can’t help but smile into it, letting out a soft chuckle at Azzi’s persistence. Azzi hums against her mouth, clearly pleased with herself, and Paige deepens the kiss for just a second longer before murmuring against her lips, “So this is how it is, huh?”

Azzi hums in response, deepening the kiss, and Paige lets her, letting herself sink into the warmth of it as Azzi’s fingers stay wrapped around her necklace, keeping her close, as if she’s afraid Paige will disappear if she lets go.

After a while, both of their lips are raw when Paige pulls back just enough to murmur, “I gotta tell you something.”

Azzi doesn’t release her immediately, stealing a few more kisses before finally loosening her grip on the chain. Paige smirks at the reluctance before pulling back slightly, still hovering over Azzi.

Azzi tilts her head, her fingers fully undoing Paige’s bun that she messed up. “What?”

Paige exhales softly, then says it as casually as if she’s commenting on the weather. “I’m coming to UConn.”

Azzi blinks up at her, the words not quite registering at first. “What?”

Paige chuckles, brushing a loose curl from Azzi’s face. “I’m transferring to UConn.”

The grin that spreads across Azzi’s face is instant and huge, her excitement practically radiating off of her. Without thinking, she wraps her arms around Paige and pulls her into a hug, the force of it making Paige collapse onto her with a laugh.

Azzi holds on tight, her face buried in Paige’s shoulder, her voice muffled as she says, “Are you serious?”

Paige just laughs again, wrapping her arms around Azzi in return. "Yeah. I'm serious."

Azzi pulls back slightly, looking at Paige with surprise. "When did you tell Geno?" she asks, her voice filled with curiosity.

Paige shrugs. "I haven't yet. I wanted to tell you first."

Azzi’s expression softens, a wide grin spreading across her face. "You wanted to tell me first?"

Paige nods, her gaze softening as she meets Azzi’s eyes. "Yeah."

Azzi smirks, leaning up slightly. "Aww, that’s sweet."

Paige rolls her eyes, but a small smile tugs at the corner of her lips. "Alright, shut up," she mumbles, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks.

Azzi chuckles, clearly enjoying the moment. "I’m just saying. It’s cute."

Paige exhales a quiet laugh, rolling her eyes as she mutters, "Whatever," before leaning back down to kiss Azzi.

This time, the kiss is slower, deeper—Paige’s weight pressing into Azzi completely as their lips move in sync. Azzi feels the warmth of Paige’s body against hers, the way Paige’s knee slides in between her legs. She lets herself sink into it, her hands finding their way to Paige’s sides, fingers curling against her skin as she pulls her closer.

The moment is so consuming that it takes a second before Azzi realizes where her hands are—right over the scar. The very place Paige had once pulled her away from, tensing at her touch.

Azzi stills, her breath hitching as she pulls back slightly, ready to apologize, but before she can say a word, she notices that Paige hasn’t moved away.

She’s still there, still hovering over her, her blue eyes looking a little shocked but still soft as they search Azzi’s face. There’s a little hesitation in her eyes but no discomfort—then slowly just a quiet acceptance.

Azzi barely has time to process it before Paige leans back down, capturing her lips in another kiss, deeper this time. It’s slow and almost calculated, as if Paige is telling her without words that it’s okay. That she wants this. That she wants her. At this, Azzi flips them over, her movements instinctual, and suddenly, she’s the one hovering over Paige. Paige lets out a quiet breath of surprise, her blue eyes flickering with something unreadable—something Azzi has come to know all too well.

Azzi doesn’t give her time to think too much. She dips down, trailing her lips along the sharp curve of Paige’s jaw, then lower, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses down her neck. Paige licks her lips at the feeling, willing her body to relax beneath Azzi’s as she sighs slightly, her fingers brushing along Azzi’s back.

Azzi smiles against Paige’s chest, taking her time, savoring every second of this—of Paige letting her in, letting her touch her like this. She feels Paige shift slightly beneath her again, feels Paige pulling her closer, and the small action makes something warm bloom in Azzi’s chest.

So she keeps going, kissing down the column of Paige’s throat, feeling her pulse racing beneath her lips, feeling the way Paige’s breath hitches every time she lingers just a second too long.

Paige couldn’t help but sigh at how soft Azzi’s lips felt against her throat, how warm and steady she felt hovering over her. It was effortless—the way Azzi moved, the way she kissed her, like she had all the time in the world. She was making sure to kiss every part of Paige’s neck, every inch of exposed skin, trailing lower with no rush, no hesitation.

Both of them had a soft appreciation for this moment. For Azzi, it was about memorizing Paige like this—unworried by the outside world, just them, just this. And for Paige, it was about allowing herself to let go, even if just for a little while.

She knew, from all their late-night FaceTime calls, that Azzi understood her in a way not many people did. Azzi knew that Paige didn’t like giving up control—that it wasn’t in her nature, that her brain basically screamed at her when she wasn’t in control of something. She knew that Paige always had to be the one holding the reins, the one dictating the pace, the one leading.

But right now, Paige wasn’t doing that.

Right now, she was letting Azzi take the lead. She was willing herself to trust the girl hovering above her. And the way Azzi handled her, with such care and patience, made it feel easier than she thought it would be.

Azzi watches Paige closely as she trails lower, her lips brushing over her skin, her hands smoothing over Paige’s sides. When she glances up, all she sees is Paige with her eyes closed, lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths. She smiles at the sight, at the trust Paige is giving her, and then she dips back down, kissing every inch of her stomach with the same patience she had when she started.

But when she reaches the scar, she hesitates. Because it’s a tricky thing—she can’t ignore this part of Paige, wouldn’t want to, but she also knows it’s sensitive, both physically and emotionally.

So, she starts slowly. A soft kiss. She feels Paige’s stomach tense slightly beneath her, the smallest shift, but she doesn’t tell her to stop.

So she places another kiss. Then another. Azzi takes her time, shifting her lips along every part of the scar, not missing an inch. She even moves to Paige’s side, making sure to trail her kisses as far as she can.

When she finally looks up, Paige’s eyes are open now, watching Azzi’s every move.

Then, Paige’s hand moves.

Azzi stills when she feels the gentle brush of Paige’s thumb against her cheek. She leans into it instinctively, closing her eyes for a brief second before looking back at her.

Paige is watching her, something unreadable in her expression, but there’s absolutely no hesitation in the way she touches her.

Azzi turns her head slightly, pressing a kiss to Paige’s palm before murmuring, “You okay?”

Paige nods. “Yeah.”

Azzi’s smile is soft as she moves back up, her lips finding Paige’s. As their mouths move together, her hand drifts lower, sliding easily into Paige’s shorts where she runs her fingers against Paige. The touch is barely there, but it pulls a reaction from Paige immediately—a low, involuntary sound escaping her lips.

Azzi chuckles, pulling back just enough to murmur, “You good?”

Paige nods, her breath a little uneven. “Mhm,” she manages, but then Azzi is sliding into Paige, settling completely before she’s pulling them out again agonizingly slow. Paige’s eyelids flutter as she exhales shakily, her voice coming out softer now, more like a whisper. “That feels good…”

Azzi smiles against her lips, happy with the effect she’s having on her. So she keeps the slow pace going, feeling the way Paige subtly arches into each time she curls her fingers. After some time, when she feels Paige getting a little more urgent in her movements, Azzi pulls away from the kiss. Creating just enough space between them to take in Paige’s face fully. To see her reactions.

Paige opens her eyes to look up at her, blue eyes heavy, but locked onto Azzi’s with an intensity that makes Azzi’s breath catch. There’s something about the way she’s looking at her—like she’s completely lost in her.

Azzi’s voice is quiet as she whispers. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Paige swallows hard at that, something deep in her chest tightening, like she might explode under the weight of those words. Her fingers flex against Azzi’s back as she struggles to find a response, but the truth is, she doesn’t need to say anything—Azzi already knows.

The way Azzi is looking at her, like she’s the only thing that matters in the world—makes her heart pound faster. Feeling Azzi move in and out of her almost perfectly, sends a warmth spreading through Paige’s entire body. She feels overwhelmed, not just by the sensation but by the way Azzi is completely focused on her, on every reaction she’s having.

Paige swallows, her throat suddenly dry. “Azzi…” she whispers out, not even sure what she wants to say.

Azzi just smiles, dipping her head down to brush her lips against Paige’s again. “I mean it,” she whispers against her mouth. “You’re so beautiful Paige.”

Paige exhales shakily, her fingers flexing against Azzi’s back, like she needs to hold onto something solid to keep herself from falling apart completely. “…Shut up,” she finally mumbles, but there’s no real bite to it.

Azzi raises her eyebrows, surprised by this response. But then she’s smiling because Paige’s blue eyes are completely hazy, her chest is rising and falling quicker now, her body reacting in ways she’s clearly struggling to control as she throws her head back against the pillow.

“Fuck— I’m sorry, I just—” Paige starts, but she can’t finish, her voice becoming unsteady. Azzi just chuckles, continuing her pace but adding a little pressure as she slides her knee in between Paige’s legs.

“It’s okay,” Azzi reassures her, keeping her voice gentle. “I know.”

But Paige’s breathing only stutters more, her body tense beneath Azzi. Azzi lowers her head near Paige’s ear. “Relax, baby.”

Paige takes a sharp inhale at hearing Azzi whisper in her ear, her fingers gripping Azzi’s arm tightly. Still, she listens—taking a deep unsteady breath, forcing herself to settle.

Azzi kisses the corner of her jaw, feeling the tension in Paige’s body start to unravel beneath her. “That’s it,” she whispers, dragging her lips along Paige’s skin as she speeds up her movements.

Paige swallows hard. “Azzi I—”

“Sshhh,” Azzi soothes, as she adjusts so she has more room to keep her pace. “I know.”

And then Paige is tensing under her all over again.

Paige’s words come out choked, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t think I can…I can’t…it’s—”

Azzi lifts her head, “Look at me,” she murmurs.

Paige forces her eyes open, her eyelids are low and her eyes are unfocused as they lock onto Azzi’s. Once their eyes lock Azzi slows her pace again, curling her fingers perfectly every time she moves. Making sure Paige feels her.

“Just relax for me,” Azzi whispers.

Paige swallows, nodding once, never breaking eye contact as she takes another deep breath. As soon as she does that it hits—her body trembling, breath hitching, fingers tightening against Azzi’s back.

Azzi leans down, immediately taking Paige’s lips in her own, swallowing every shaky breath, every quiet whimper, every moan, until Paige finally starts to settle beneath her.

Before Azzi even knows what’s happening, Paige is flipping them over. When she does this, she’s a lot more feverish than Azzi was, her lips trailing down Azzi’s jaw, sucking and nipping along the way, like she can’t get enough of her.

Azzi, already worked up just from watching Paige, takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “Fuck Paige—”

Paige hums against her skin, the sound vibrating through Azzi’s body.

Azzi exhales shakily. “I really can’t wait. It’s been too long.”

Paige lifts her head, her pupils dilated, she nods once before leaning back down, sealing her lips over Azzi’s again.

Paige easily slides her hand into Azzi’s pajama shorts and groans when there’s no other barrier and she immediately feels how ready Azzi is for her. Paige whispers out, “Fuck baby, why you didn’t tell me.” Before Azzi can respond Paige is easily sliding her fingers into Azzi.

As soon as Paige does this, Azzi’s breath hitches, and she mumbles, “Oh god.” Paige smirks, feeling the heat radiating from Azzi’s body as she easily takes her in.

Azzi, already feeling the tug in her stomach, grabs Paige’s waist and pulls her closer, the weight of Paige on top of her having Azzi closing her eyes in relief. She runs her hands up and down Paige’s back, her breath growing shallow. “I miss you so much,” Azzi murmurs.

Paige leans down to kiss her. “I miss you, too pretty girl,” she replies softly.

Azzi exhales a quiet, needy sound at the nickname, she wraps her arms tightly around Paige’s shoulders and hooks her legs around Paige’s waist, using the leverage to pull her closer. A low groan escapes her lips as Paige presses deeper into her, her fingers tangling into Paige’s hair seeking any piece of her she can get.

A few moments later, Azzi’s phone rings from the nightstand, popping the bubble they created. The first time, Azzi ignores it, her attention completely on the way Paige is making her feel, but then it rings again. Again, she ignores it, letting Paige continue, her hands never leaving Paige’s head, but when it rings a third time, Azzi can’t ignore it anymore.

With a deep sigh, she reaches over to grab the phone, still breathing unevenly from the way Paige feels inside of her. She glances at the screen and sees Caroline’s name flashing.

Azzi sighs again, this time louder, her chest tightening. Paige, noticing the change, starts to shift off of her, but Azzi grabs her, shaking her head, “No… don’t,” she says softly, pushing Paige’s head into her neck. Paige is a little surprised at this but she complies with what Azzi wants as she starts placing open mouth kisses to Azzi’s neck, curling her fingers as she does it.

Reluctantly, Azzi answers the phone, her voice completely breathy as she says, “Yes, Caroline?”

Caroline’s voice comes through the phone. “You have 15 minutes.” And before Azzi can respond, Caroline hangs up, already knowing exactly what Azzi is doing.

Azzi throws her phone somewhere and immediately pulls Paige back into a kiss, this time more urgent. Both of them are aware of the time slipping away, and the need to be close is almost overwhelming.

Paige, knowing what she needs to do to speed the process up for Azzi, adjusts so she can use her thumb adding slow soft circles to the mix as she continues to curl her fingers.

It doesn’t take long for Azzi’s body to shake under Paige’s touch, her breath coming in shallow bursts as her hands tighten around Paige. She tries to speak, but the words don’t come out clearly, her chest heaving with every shaky exhale.

“P-Paige…Yes—” she stammers, struggling to find her voice as Paige’s continues to work in and out of her, drawing another tremor from her. “Fuck—” Her hands find Paige’s back, trying to pull her impossibly closer, her fingers digging into her skin as she gasps. “I… want you... so much...”

Azzi’s words slip into a breathless murmur, almost incoherent. Paige slows her rhythm as she helps Azzi ride out the sensation, her smile growing as she watches her.

“You have me,” Paige whispers, pressing her forehead to Azzi’s as they both savor the moment.

They stay just like that for a second, both of them breathing deeply, still feeling the weight of each other. There’s a quiet, unspoken understanding between them as they both lay there, hearts still racing in sync.

Paige breaks the silence with a soft murmur, “You gotta go.”

Azzi exhales slowly, her body still warm beneath Paige’s, but the words don’t seem to make her move just yet. She pulls Paige closer instead, pressing a kiss to her lips before she mumbles, “I know.”

Even as she says it, Azzi’s hands tangle in Paige’s hair, and the kiss turns more urgent. The heat between them grows again, their lips moving together perfectly, tasting each other in a way that seems to say they’re not ready to let go, not yet.

But eventually, Azzi pulls away, her chest rising and falling. She gives Paige one last lingering look before she’s tapping her to stand up. Once Paige rolls off of her, Azzi stands, stretching and crossing the room to grab Paige’s discarded shirt from the floor, easily slipping it over her head.

Paige smirks, her eyes following Azzi’s every movement, and as she stands up from the bed she says. “Look at you, putting on my shirt. Ms. ‘Don’t get used to it.’”

Azzi rolls her eyes, as she slips her Uggs back on. Paige mirrors the move, grabbing her phone and keycard, ready to walk Azzi upstairs.

Azzi’s voice breaks the quiet. “You’re not going to put on a shirt?”

Paige laughs, glancing down at herself. “You kinda sorta stole mine.”

Azzi laughs softly, nodding. “Fair enough.” She watches as Paige glances at herself in the mirror, her jaw tightening just slightly before she looks toward Azzi.

“I should be fine. It’s pretty late.”

Azzi nods, grabbing her hand and the two of them step out of the room, walking down the hall toward the elevator. The walk feels too short and they reach Azzi’s door before they know it.

Azzi reaches out first, pulling Paige toward her in one more kiss. It's slow, a little messy—her lips pressing against Paige's with a delicate urgency. Azzi’s arms slide over Paige’s shoulders, her fingers playing with the hair at the back of Paige’s neck and Paige responds, her hands wrapping around Azzi’s waist, pulling her in closer.

But then the door to Azzi’s room swings open, and Caroline peeks her head out. She doesn’t seem surprised by what she sees, “You deadass have like a minute.”

Like most people, because humans truly can’t help it, her eyes flicker down to Paige’s exposed torso, and Paige immediately notices the look.

The moment shifts, the lightness of Paige’s energy almost vanishing as she steps back from Azzi. Her jaw tightens, her fingers subconsciously starting to fiddle with the ring on her finger. She clears her throat, putting a little more distance between them. “I’ll text you, okay?” she says, her voice quieter now, and Azzi nods, understanding the sudden shift.

Paige takes one last look at Azzi, giving her a small smile then turns to walk away.

As Azzi and Caroline walk into the suite. Caroline watches as Azzi shuts the door and as soon as Azzi starts walking towards her bed, Caroline can’t help herself. “What was that?” she asks, her voice light with curiosity.

Azzi glances at her but doesn’t pause in her movement. “That was a kiss,” she answers simply.

Caroline raises an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with that response. She shifts slightly on the couch. “Obviously. But I’m not talking about that.”

Azzi stops in her tracks, knowing exactly where this conversation is headed. She takes a breath, turns, and faces Caroline. “Then what was what?”

Caroline is persistent, but her tone is soft and inquisitive, rather than pushy. “She had this huge scar on her side. I saw it when you were...you know. What’s going on with that?” Caroline’s eyes flicker with concern, showing she’s not trying to pry in a harsh way.

“It’s nothing,” Azzi says simply, keeping her voice neutral.

Caroline frowns, not convinced. “Azzi, that’s not nothing,” she says gently. “Is she okay?”

Azzi finally looks at Caroline. “She is.”

Caroline senses the finality in Azzi’s words and nods slowly, her curiosity still piqued, but understanding that Azzi isn’t going to share more. “Alright. I get it,” Caroline says, leaning back on the couch, not pressing any further.

True to Paige's word, as Azzi climbs into bed, her phone buzzes. She picks it up with a smile, seeing Paige's name light up the screen. Her fingers quickly swipe across the screen.

Paige💗You good?

Azzi reads the text and replies with a single word, followed by another.

Azzi <3 Course

Azzi <3 Why wouldn’t I be?

A few moments later, Paige responds.

Paige💗We kinda rushed for you.

Azzi’s chest warms a little at that. She pauses before texting back.

Azzi <3 You’re sweet

Azzi <3 Truly

Azzi <3 But the word "quickie" exists for a reason

Paige’s reaction comes through quickly — adding a laughing reaction to the message. Before adding

Paige💗Just wanted to make sure.

As Paige and Azzi continue their text exchange, a knock at the door interrupts the rhythm of the conversation for a second. Caroline glances over before moving to answer it, pulling the door open just enough to see who’s there.

CD stands in the hallway, her expression neutral as she steps just inside the room. Her gaze scans the space, quickly landing on Azzi sitting up on her bed, phone in hand. CD gives a small, satisfied nod, completing her room check, but her eyes linger for a second longer when she notices the shirt Azzi is wearing—the familiar bold Minnesota lettering printed across the front.

If CD has any thoughts about it, she doesn’t voice them. Instead, she offers a simple, “Goodnight, girls.” She doesn’t wait for a response, turning on her heel and pulling the door shut behind her.

Azzi chuckles under her breath, shaking her head slightly before turning her attention back to her phone, her fingers resuming their steady taps against the screen. Her smile growing as she sends another message to Paige.

Meanwhile, Caroline moves through the dim room, flipping off the last light before climbing into her bed.

Azzi remains awake, the faint glow of her phone illuminating her face as she continues the constant back-and-forth with Paige.

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics

331 notes · View notes

myloveer0 · 3 days ago

Text

My lovely darling

Girlfriend Ambessa Medarda X Fem!reader

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Summary: You were just trying to survive your family reunion when Ambessa Medarda—your girlfriend—showed up unannounced. Now, you have no choice but to introduce her to your entire clan. What’s got you nervous isn’t just introducing any partner—it’s the fact that you’re dating a woman who also happens to be twice your age.

💋 Enough with the smut we need sweet girlfriend Ambessa💋

All of the Ambessa's fic are mostly smut. Now i want write different this time ;)

Part I

The night of the gathering was full of noise, the endless chatter, catching up with your cousins which you hadn’t seen in ages, and men cheering at the current football game. It was so noisy and chaotic which was stressing you out.

But still, there was something comforting about seeing those familiar faces. Your aunties laughing out loud echoing from the kitchen, your uncle's bad jokes that somehow got worse every year, the kids running around and toddler crying the brain out.

Family gatherings were never your thing. Too many questions, too much noise, and way too many relatives. You just don't have a choice but to obey your mother since it only happens once a year. Everyone minding their own business. It was almost funny, though, how everyone acted like nothing ever happened. Just last year, there was that massive fight over your Grandpa’s inheritance and the land rights. You thought your family would never be the same again.

But here we were, gathered like old times—those heated arguments maybe forgotten. This is what families like. Everyone was busy bragging about their new cars, job promotions, or perfectly curated family vacations.

You were doing a decent job of blending into the background, sipping your martini and pretending to care as your aunt went on about her new Victoria’s Secret bag that definitely looked fake.

It was fake, but you weren’t rude enough to point it out. You just kept nodding, trying your best to look impressed.

“So, do you have a boyfriend yet?” Your auntie suddenly asked. Wine glass in hand, eyes sparkling with nosy curiosity. “Anyone special in your life?”

But of course, it wouldn't be a family gathering without that question.

You forced a polite smile, which lead to an awkward laugh the kind that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

Your auntie's release a collective gasp, followed by the inevitable assumption. You wanna roll your eyes.

Not surprised… are they asking you because you’re the only adult in the family who still hasn’t brought a boyfriend this year? Just like every other year. Meanwhile, your cousins are busy introducing their partners to the family—even the one who’s still in high school. And there you are… all alone.

“You know, Y/n, your cousin Emily is already married and has a two-year-old son. She’s doing so well! You really should think about settling down, sweetheart. You’re not getting any younger, and it’s harder to have kids when you’re older.”

Ah, yes. Emily—the family’s golden child. Same age as you, but somehow light-years ahead in the game of life, according to everyone else. Married, a kid, probably a dog too, for good measure. It’s like she checked off every box on the ‘Perfect Life’ checklist, and here you are alone while everyone assuming you where still trying to find a pen.

You'd force a smile, nod along, and pretend like it didn’t bother you. But inside? You was screaming. If only they knew.

You were doing your best to avoid another round of those questions when your cousin tapped you on the shoulder.

“Hey, Y/n” he whispered, glancing around while a plate food in his hand. “Someone’s looking for you outside.”

You blinked. “Who?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Some lady. But, uh… she looks like someone important. She was kinda scary too..”

That made you pause. Someone important? You racked your brain, trying to think of who would show up here, of all places. But with no other choice, you set your martini down and asked to leave. As you made your way to the front door, a strange feeling settled in your chest.

And then you stepped outside the gate.

You froze.

There, standing by her sleek black car, was her.

Ambessa Medarda.

Your girlfriend.

She wore a sharp red and black suit, tailored to perfection, exuding power with every inch of her posture. The soft evening light glinted off her gold earrings, and her confident stance made it impossible to look anywhere else. Your heart did this weird little lurch, and your chest tightened with a mix of excitement and full-blown panic.

Because what the hell was she doing here?

Behind her—not far away—was another black car, more like an convoy. And there you saw Ricktus, Ambessa’s head security. He glanced in your direction, giving a slight bow when your eyes met. You returned a small smile before starting to walk toward Ambessa.

You barely had time to process before Ambessa large build crossed the distance between you, her hand sliding behind your neck as she pulled you in for a kiss—right there, in the open, in front of your parents house. Your brain screamed at you to stop her, to do something, but your body? Yeah, it had other plans. You melted into the kiss, your nerves buzzing under your skin, and when she finally pulled back, you were left breathless, trying to collect your thoughts.

“Ambessa,”You whispered, glancing nervously over your shoulder to make sure no one had seen. Thank goodness.. you didn't have a front yard party. “What… what are you doing here?”

Ambessa smiled, that infuriatingly calm, self-assured smile that always made you weak in the knees. “I missed you. little one ”

You blinked. “It’s been barely two weeks.”

“Too long,” Ambessa said without missing a beat, seriously? How can she be so clingy and possesive at the same time. Which was kinda cute to be honest. “So, I came to see you. little one. Why? You don’t look happy. I was hoping you’d jump at me out of pure rejoice.”

You swallowed hard, heart thudding in your chest. You would have jumped at her—hell, you would’ve run into her arms if she weren’t standing right in front of your parents’ house, of all places. The timing couldn’t have been worse. But God, seeing her again stirred something deep inside you. Yes, it been just two weeks but it felt like forever.

“I—” you started, but the words stuck in your throat. Instead, you just stared at her, taking in the way she stood there like she owned the whole damn world, that familiar smirk playing on her lips, the glint of mischief in her eyes. You missed her. More than you’d let yourself admit.

Ambessa raised an eyebrow, stepping closer, her presence overwhelming as always. “What’s the matter, dear? Cat got your tongue?” she teased, her voice a low, velvety whisper that made your skin prickle. She glanced at the house behind you, then back at your face, reading you like an open book. “Ah… I see.” Her grin widened. “Didn’t realize you’d be home home.”

You shot her a look, trying to keep your cool, but it was impossible with her standing so close, with that look in her eyes.

“I missed you,” you finally blurted out, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

Ambessa’s smirk softened, just a hint, and for a fleeting second, something warmer flickered in her gaze. But it was gone just as quickly as it came, replaced by that same cocky confidence.

“I know,” she said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I always know.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the chest, but before you could even process it, she stepped closer, her hand brushing your arm, her touch sending a jolt through your entire body.

“So,” she murmured, her voice low and dangerous, “Are you going to invite me in, or do I have to stand out here all day while your parents wonder who the hell their daughter’s been dreaming about?”

You blinked. Your eyes slowly widened as your stomach flipped. Reality snapped back into focus. This was bad.Very bad. How can you two flirting in this situation.

“Bess, you can’t just… show up like this,” you hissed, lowering your voice. “This isn’t the right time.”

This wasn’t at all how you pictured the family reunion going. They can't meet Ambessa. Not now.

She raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. “Why not?”

You swallowed hard, the words catching in your throat. “Because my parents don’t even know I have a lover. They’ve known me as single for the past five years. Let alone a woman who’s…”

Ambessa’s gaze locked onto yours, sharp and unwaverin like daring you “Continue your words, little one.”

You bit your lip, your cheeks warming as you dropped your eyes to the ground. You didn’t want to offend her.

“W-who’s… well, twice my age.”

Ambessa didn’t flinch. Not even a flicker of surprise crossed her face. Like she knew it was coming along. The gap—had always been the issue people latched onto. You told yourself you didn’t care what they thought. But sometimes… sometimes it stung.

But not Ambessa.

She just tilted her head, eyes sharp and unwavering, that usual confidence. “Then are you embarrassed?”

Your eyes widened, and you snapped your gaze up to meet hers, a frown pulling at your lips. Is that what she think of you? “Of course not! Don’t even think about it that way, Bess. You’re—” Your voice began to cracked, the emotion bubbling up before you could stop it. You were having a hard time sinking all of this. It was too sudden.

“You’re one of the greatest things that’s ever happened to me. I’m proud to be yours. Every time i'm with you i feel so whole and I'm not letting you go cause your mine. I’d stand on the highest rooftop and shout it to the whole damn world if I had to. I’d tell everyone you’re my girlfriend, that you mean everything to me—”

You didn’t even realize the tears had started falling until Ambessa’s thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping them away with surprising gentleness. That small gesture broke something in you—the floodgates opened, and you couldn’t hold it back anymore.

You hated when she thought like that. Like she wasn’t important to you. Like you didn’t value your relationship just because of that damn age gap everyone kept pointing out.

You didn’t want her to ever feel that way.

Ambessa didn’t say a word. She just pulled you into her arms, strong and steady, like nothing in the world could touch you when you were with her. Being wrapped in her embrace was your safe haven.

Her hand cradled the back of your head, and you felt her breath warm against your temple “Shh… Forgive me.. Let them talk. Let them think whatever the hell they want. You’re mine. And that’s all that matters.”

“I just…” you gasped between sobs, clinging to her suit. God! You just ruined her expensive suit. “I don’t care what they say, but it—it gets to me sometimes. Like we’re wrong. But we’re not. We’re not, right?”

Ambessa pulled back just enough to cup your face in her hands, forcing you to meet her gaze. Her eyes were fierce, unwavering, like they always were, but there was something softer beneath the surface now—a tenderness she rarely showed.

“We are never wrong,” she said, her voice firm, leaving no room for doubt. “Let them talk. Let them think whatever the hell they want. They don’t know us. They don’t know you.” She leaned in, her forehead resting gently against yours, her breath warm and steady. “And I don’t give a damn about anything but this—you and me. That’s all that matters.”

Her words wrapped around you, and for the first time, you felt the tension ease from your chest. You let out a shaky breath, nodding slowly, you buried your face against her chest, clutching her like she was the only solid thing in the world.

“I don’t care what they say,” you whispered through the tears. “I just… I love you so much, Bess.” voice raw but sure. “I love you so much.”

A rare, genuine smile tugged at Ambessa's lips—one of those smiles she only ever gave you. She pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment before pulling back just enough to look into your eyes.

“I know you do,” she murmured, her thumb brushing away the last of your tears. “And I love you more than all their words combined. They can’t touch what we have. I wouldn't let them. They have to get to me first”

A small smile tugged at your lips. You slowly wiped your tears before gently pulling away from her embrace.

“You know no one can get past you,” you chuckled, wrapping your arms around her waist and looking up into her eyes.

Who would even dare to challenge a figure like her—unless they had a death wish or wanted to live through hell itself.

A cocky smile graced Ambessa’s lips. “Precisely, little one.”

“I’m sorry for being so emotional,” you whispered, your voice still shaky. “It’s not that I’m embarrassed… It’s just—they’re so important to me. My family—they’re not exactly…” you trailed off, searching for the right word. Ready? Accepting? Prepared for the force of nature that is you? None of it felt right.

''i know.. that's why it’s time they found out.”

You stared at her. “Bess…i know but they’ll flip out. They’re not exactly… open-minded about this kind of thing. ”

Her gaze softened just a fraction, but there was still steel underneath. “I’m not here to hide. And neither are you.”

You ran a hand through your hair, heart pounding like it was trying to break free from your chest. “ My parents are a little homophobic. They’ll freak out.”

Ambessa stepped closer, her voice low but firm. “Then let them.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. Because deep down, you knew Ambessa wasn’t going to back down. She never did. And maybe, just maybe, a part of you didn’t want her to.

But that didn’t make this any less terrifying.

She reached out, brushing a strand of hair from my face, her touch surprisingly gentle. “I’m not leaving,” she whispered. “It’s time.”

You blinked at her, trying to gauge if she was really serious. “Bess… it’s just a family thing. You’d be bored.” one last convencing.

She raised an eyebrow, that signature smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “ You look so adorable with your puppy eyes. But it will not work this time. I think it’s time I met your family.''

You let out a shaky breath, your nerves coiling tighter with every second. Is there anything in this world this woman was afraid off? But as you looked into her eyes—steady, unwavering, hers—you knew there was no talking her out of this.

God help. This was happening.

You knew a moment like this would come. You just didn’t expect it to be today.

Ambessa’s sudden appearance—like she’d just pop out of thin air—sent your heart into overdrive. She always had a knack for catching you off guard, but this? This felt different. You weren’t prepared. You hadn’t braced yourself for the surge of tension crackling in the air between you.

And the worst part? The way she looked.

Standing there like she owned the damn place, dressed to perfection, like every single detail had been planned to the last thread. It made you wonder—had she planned this? You knew Ambessa had been eager to meet your parents. You did. But you always found a way to shift the topic..

Is that why she showed up today? But God—the way that outfit hugged her frame, you couldn’t help but ogle. It was distracting she look so smoking hot and gorgeous. And the subtle gleam in her eye? It told you she was fully aware of the effect she had on you.

Your palms felt clammy, your pulse thrumming in your ears. But as your eyes flicked down to your own outfit, a small wave of relief washed over you. Thank God you’d put some effort into how you looked today. If you’d been caught in something sloppy, standing next to her, you would’ve crumbled right there on the spot.

But still… even dressed your best, Ambessa had a way of making everyone else fade into the background. And you couldn’t help but wonder—how the hell were you supposed to keep your cool standing beside her?

“A-alright,” you whispered, your voice barely steady. “Let’s do this.”

#ambessa #ambessa medarda #ambessa x reader #ambessa x you #ambessa x y/n #arcane ambessa #ambessa league of legends #ambessa arcane #wlw #arcane #arcane s2 #arcane season 2 #lesbian

240 notes · View notes

void-galaxy-shenanigans · 55 minutes ago

Text

I wanna share a trans/nonbinary tidbit about abortion protestors, Planned Parenthood, & starting to “pass” as a man, inspired by this. It was silly in real time, despite the wild (/neg) ideology behind it.

I went to Planned Parenthood for HRT because they do informed consent. We did all the paperwork stuff for insurance & whatnot & got approved. That was back in May of 2023.

I did not pass at the time, not by their standards. (That “body weight distribution” change from HRT is no joke.) But I did my check-in for HRT there, roughly once a month for the first 6 months (I bumped the dose up whenever allowed, which requires a one month check-in), then every 3 months from there. (¡I am now approaching year two! ☺)

For the first nine months (coincidental alignment with pregnancy “clock”), they were horrified/frantic every time they saw me, trying to wave me down & tell me that the Lady of Life* wanted My Baby™ to live.

(* very important to them; this is the most common denomination of xtian protestors at this particular clinic location)

Every time I just gave them a baffled smile & walked to the door.

Finally, after the 3-month gap to month nine, I began to “pass”. They saw me walk towards the doors, no longer identifiably trans / no longer perceived as a “woman” by their standards.

And they glitched—I watched them blink fast several times, tilt their head, look to eachother, etc. as I walk up to the door and ring the bell (clinic added it for covid).

I don’t know if they concluded I must be a trans woman, or couldn’t comprehend why a “man”* would be at this clinic. What I do know is they left before I came out, about 40 minutes later. This was a very new, very funny development.

(* I’m actually nonbinary/genderqueer)

But the shift was undeniable & ridiculous*.

(* using “ridiculous” with both its silly & judgemental connotations)

I still think its the funniest shit ever that when I used to volunteer at planned parenthood every week even though I walked past mostly the same protesters every single time they were begging me not to get an abortion theres other options yadda yadda. Like meemaw you see me here every week. They call me abortions georg because I get another one every Monday at 8am

#they still go there btw #they still get confused every time #let people choose what’s best for their body (including abortion)#AND this was such a wild experience #validated my gender tho 🤷‍♂️ (sort of)#~Helios (collective)#~Nico #transgender #trans #nonbinary #enby #abortion rights #Planned Parenthood #personal story

53K notes · View notes

steviewashere · 22 hours ago

Text

I kinda feel like Steve wasn't as popular as he's made out to be. Like, maybe he's got a bit of a reputation that proceeds him—ladies man, The Hair, and Steeevveee Harrington. He takes care of himself, takes care of his dates. The guys around him oversell his personality a lot, how many people he can get in bed with him, the way he can instantly charm a person.

But then you meet him and it's just.

This is the guy you're talking about?

The guy who forgets how to use his tongue sometimes and just does one of those little finger waves? The guy who, if he thinks you're not paying attention to him, will just stand there and make a bunch of goofy faces, lost in thought, muttering song lyrics under his breath? The guy who keeps making the most dorky references to music and movie culture—he quoted something from Star Trek on one of his dates. And the guy who will run into walls when trying to make a swift exit?

Dude is awkward. He is clammy. He is stuttering over his words and trying to cover it up with his pretty smile—which, yeah could be charming, but in his own special streak of charming. Every romantic gesture he pulls is more outlandish, garish, and brash than the last; he is fumbling matches for candles, though, and he is sticking himself in the thumb with the thorns on roses, he is spilling popcorn all over himself on movie dates, and he is tripping on his own feet while trying to carry a girl to his bed upstairs.

Every time a girl kisses his cheek, he's immediately flushing head to toe, smiling all crooked, eyes all soft. He almost forgets to kiss them back.

When he dates Eddie, though? Oh my god.

Eddie flirts with him and Steve literally squeaks. Eddie watches him while Steve is playing basketball, he fumbles the ball and falls onto his knees on the court. Eddie tucks hair behind Steve's ear, Steve is blurting out his entire hair care regime—all because Eddie murmured about how soft it was. Eddie rubs his back while they're cuddled on the couch, Steve gets a boner so fast that he nearly blacks out. Eddie makes them dinner once, tells Steve to just sit down at the table while ushering him out of the kitchen, and Steve is in such a daze of love that he runs into the doorjamb face first and breaks his nose.

When Eddie tells him he loves him? Steve literally screams and has to take a lap before saying it back.

Every time Steve flirts, he has to back track five steps. Every time he compliments Eddie, he has to clarify that it's a compliment because they all come out so aggressively to the point they sound like insults. He tries to quote Shakespeare and, sure it's a love quote, but it's from some incest scene and Eddie laughs before telling him what it really means.

I don't know. Steve just embarrasses himself a lot. Like he definitely has the capacity to sweep somebody off their feet, romance 'em or whatever. But when he's really, really in love with somebody (whether it be after a few dates with a girl, the person he's in love with is Nancy, or even Eddie)? Steve is not chill whatsoever.

Everything that rumors said were just complete lies. You wanna know who started them?

Tommy.

It was Tommy trying to cover for his best friend. Because he saw Steve smile at a girl once, flirt with her, get a date with her. But he had a piece of broccoli stuck between his two front teeth. He couldn't save the interaction even if he tried, Steve was too enamored to quit. The only saving grace Tommy could think of was sell Steve as this handsome, charming, romantic guy—even though the Steve he knew was dorky, a major geek in private, awkward as hell, and funny half the time (his jokes were very hit or miss).

(Also, imagine gay Tommy just trying to reason with himself that his crush—his best friend—is actually not the awkward guy he really is. And maybe he still likes Steve. But Jesus. That piece of broccoli was huge! How did Steve not feel it?)

Anyway. Cringe fail Steve is something very important to me.

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #bisexual steve harrington #bisexual disaster steve harrington #he's a lovable loser

200 notes · View notes

hisfavegirl · 2 days ago

Text

HOTD Characters when you posted something that angered them on instagram.

a/n : with their revenge.

Aegon :

Aegon wasn’t just jealous—he was seething.

He hadn’t been paying much attention to his phone, probably nursing a drink or sprawled out on his bed in boredom, when his notifications started going off. Dozens of messages, tags, and mentions, all leading back to one thing.

Your post.

The second he saw it, his entire body tensed. His fingers gripped the phone so tightly he nearly cracked the screen.

You were practically naked. The lighting was teasing, the pose deliberate—bare skin, just barely covered, revealing far too much. His mouth went dry, his jaw locked, and his pulse spiked with something dark and possessive.

And then, the comments.

“I think I just died and went to heaven.”

“No way you’re single posting this.”

“You’re actually cruel for this.”

“Let me take you out, I’ll treat you better than he ever could.”

Aegon snapped.

His tongue pressed hard against his cheek, his breathing slow and measured—forced control. Every part of him burned. The thought of other men looking at you like this, imagining things they had no right to—it made his vision blur with rage.

Did you want this? Were you trying to make him lose it? Because if so, congratulations. It worked.

His hands were shaking as he opened your messages.

Aegon: What the fuck is wrong with you?

Aegon: Take it down. NOW.

Seconds passed. No response.

His jaw ticked, his heart pounding. He could already see you smirking at your phone, enjoying this.

Aegon: Do you think this is funny? You think I’ll just sit back while you let every desperate asshole on the internet drool over you?

Another moment of silence.

And then—

Aegon: Fine. You don’t want to listen? Then I’m coming to you.

He didn’t care where you were, who you were with. This wasn’t going to be solved over text. If you thought you could push him, make him jealous, tease him like this—

You were about to find out exactly what jealous Aegon Targaryen really looked like.

Aegon Revenge :

THE INTERNET WAS NOT READY.

People had barely survived your last stunt.

And then—

He ended them.

A video.

Dim lighting. A massive, ornate mirror reflecting everything.

You—completely bare, wrapped in Aegon’s arms, your back pressed flush against his chest. His grip on your thighs, fingers digging in as he held you up, your body rocking against him.

And then—

Him.

Silver hair messy, sweat dripping down his bare chest. His lips bruised, parted, his eyes half-lidded—but focused. Locked on the mirror. On you. On himself.

He didn’t even turn off the sound.

Your whimpers. His low groans. The sound of skin against skin.

And then—his voice. Rough. Arrogant. Possessive.

“Let them watch. Let them know exactly who you belong to.”

And the caption?

“You’ll never be me. You’ll never have her.”

THE INTERNET? DESTROYED.

The guys:

“What the actual fuck?”

“No way. NO WAY. I refuse.”

“Delete this right now, Aegon, I’m not joking.”

“BLOCKED. REPORTED. SOBBING.”

“She was supposed to be ours. OURS, YOU BASTARD.”

“First, she posts that picture, now THIS? Haven’t we suffered enough?”

“Aegon. BRO. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.”

“This wasn’t just a flex. This was a declaration of war.”

“Bro didn’t even try to be subtle. Just straight-up ruined us.”

“I WAS LIVING A PEACEFUL LIFE, AEGON.”

“I can’t even be mad. He won. He fucking won.”

The Girls:

“This is the most disrespectful thing I have ever seen, and I need more.”

“The mirror. The hand placement. The fucking arrogance. I’m unwell.”

“HOW DO I SIGN UP FOR THIS LIFE.”

“He knows he’s that guy, and he’s making sure we do too.”

“Aegon is actually dangerous because why is this so hot??”

“This should be illegal. In every country. And yet I can’t look away.”

Meanwhile, Aegon?

He was smirking, watching the absolute chaos in the comments, lazily scrolling, completely unbothered.

And just to finish them off, he dropped a comment under his own post:

“Cope. She’s screaming my name, not yours.”

With that—

The internet was officially incinerated.

Aemond :

Aemond rarely paid attention to social media. It was a distraction, a meaningless void filled with people desperate for attention. But when his phone buzzed relentlessly—notifications flooding in, people tagging him, sending him something over and over—he knew something was wrong.

Then he saw it.

Your post.

His entire body went rigid. His grip on the phone tightened, fingers twitching against the screen as his eye locked onto the image.

You were practically naked.

The dim lighting barely concealed you, your pose deliberate, teasing, calculated. It left just enough to the imagination while making it painfully obvious what you wanted people to see.

And judging by the comments, it was working.

“You’re actually a goddess.”

“This is illegal. It has to be.”

“I need a minute. Maybe an hour. Maybe my whole life.”

“If he doesn’t wife you after this, I will.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched so tightly it ached. His chest burned with something vicious, a white-hot fury that spread through his veins like wildfire.

Who the fuck did these men think they were? Speaking like this—like they even had the right to look at you, let alone imagine more.

His breathing was slow, controlled, forced—because if he let himself fully feel this, he’d break something.

He opened your messages, his fingers moving before he could even think.

Aemond: Take it down.

No response.

His teeth ground together, his patience already paper-thin. He could feel you smirking at your phone, waiting, pushing him.

Aemond: Now.

Still nothing.

A dangerous heat flickered behind his eye. His grip on the phone was dangerous now, his mind already racing with possibilities.

Aemond: You think this is a game? You think I’ll just sit back while you let every desperate bastard in the world stare at what’s mine?

His lips curled into a sneer as he refreshed your post, seeing the numbers climb—more likes, more comments, more eyes on you.

Fine. If you wanted attention, he was about to give it to you.

Aemond: You’re going to regret this.

And before he even gave you a chance to answer, he sent one last message.

Aemond: I’m coming to you. Right now.

You wanted to test him? To push him to the edge? You were about to see exactly what happened when Aemond Targaryen is jealous.

Aemond revenge :

The Internet Was Not Just Broken—It Was Destroyed.

Aemond had been quiet lately. Too quiet.

People should have known he was plotting.

And then—

He dropped the video.

Dark sheets. Low lighting. Your body sprawled against his bed, wrists tied above your head, satin bindings digging into your skin.

And then—

His hand.

Slow. Intentional. Inside your cunt.

Aemond wasn’t even looking at the camera—his gaze was locked on you. Sharp. Unrelenting. His lips curled into something dangerous as he watched you struggle beneath him.

And then—his voice. Low. Rough. Possessive.

“They can watch. But they’ll never touch.”

And the caption?

“Don’t bother fantasizing. She’s already ruined for anyone else.”

The Internet? Utterly Incinerated.

The Guys:

“I can’t keep doing this, bro.”

“AEMOND. THIS WAS NOT NECESSARY.”

“This wasn’t even a flex. This was pure domination.”

“I was a happy man. Now I’m in hell.”

“He could have just hinted at it. But no. He had to prove it.”

“What the actual fuck is this??”

“I just dropped to my knees in Walmart.”

“I need time to process. Maybe a lifetime.”

“WHO ALLOWED THIS???”

“No way. NO WAY. I refuse to accept this reality.”

“This is actually a hate crime"

The Girls:

“The hand placement. The bindings. I actually feel pain.”

“Aemond Targaryen is actually disrespectful for this.”

“I don’t know whether to cry, scream, or book a one-way flight to his bed.”

“The way he’s just watching her struggle—I am NOT OKAY.”

“WHO GAVE HIM THE RIGHT??”

“I hate her. I love her. I want to be her.”

“The fact that he tied her up and still made sure to show off?? I need a moment.”

Meanwhile, Aemond?

Unbothered. Probably sipping wine, watching men suffer, knowing no one could ever take you from him.

And just to finish them off, he dropped a comment under his own post:

“Cry harder. She’s not leaving my bed.”

With that—

The internet was officially annihilated.

Jace :

Jace wasn’t the type to obsess over social media. He didn’t scroll mindlessly or waste time checking comments. But when his phone wouldn’t stop buzzing—when his notifications were flooded with messages, tags, and people sending him something over and over—he knew something was up.

Then he saw it.

And everything else faded.

You. Practically naked. The lighting was soft, shadows barely concealing you. The way you posed, the way your skin was on full display—every inch of the picture was deliberate.

And the comments?

“Holy fucking shit.”

“No way in hell Jace is letting this slide.”

“You’re actually unreal.”

“If you ever need someone to treat you better… just say the word, baby.”

Jace’s jaw locked. His grip on the phone tightened so hard his knuckles went white.

His chest burned—jealousy, rage, something dark and possessive twisting deep in his gut. Did you want this attention? Were you enjoying the way these men spoke to you, the way they looked at you? Did you forget who you belonged to?

His vision blurred as he opened your messages, his fingers moving before he could think.

Jace: Take it down. Now.

Nothing.

His knee bounced, jaw ticking as he refreshed your page, watching the numbers climb. More likes. More comments. More eyes on you.

Jace: Don’t make me repeat myself.

Still nothing.

His tongue pressed hard against the inside of his cheek, his blood boiling. He knew you were doing this on purpose. Testing him. Pushing him.

Jace: You think this is funny? Letting every desperate asshole in the world think they have a chance?

He exhaled sharply through his nose, running a hand through his hair before sending one last message.

Jace: Fine. You don’t want to listen? I’m coming to you.

Because if you thought you could make him jealous, make him furious, and just get away with it?

You were about to learn exactly what happened when Jace Velaryon snapped.

Jace Revenge :

The Internet Was NOT Okay.

People were still recovering from the last time you posted something that had them spiraling—

And then he ruined lives all over again.

A video.

Low, moody lighting. The golden glow of a bedside lamp casting soft shadows over your bare back, your skin flushed, the smooth curve of your spine on full display.

And then—

His hand.

Fingers twisting in your hair, pulling just enough to tilt your head back, exposing the slope of your neck, the sharp inhale that followed.

His other hand—out of frame, but you could feel it.

The video was silent, except for the sound of breathing—his and yours, deep, uneven, filled with undeniable tension.

And the caption?

“Mine.”

The Internet? SHATTERED.

The Guys:

“Jace, bro. What the fuck.”

“This is personal. I feel personally attacked.”

“Nah. This is war.”

"BLOCKED. REPORTED. UNFOLLOWED.”

“I can’t do this anymore. I’m logging out forever.”

“This is actually illegal. I’m calling the police.”

“Jace, be honest… was this necessary? Was it??”

“I just threw my phone across the room. I can’t look at this.”

“Bro really said ‘you thought you had a chance?’ and ended us all.”

“At least let me heal from the last post first, damn.”

The Girls:

“That hand placement? That possessiveness? Yeah, I’m in pain.”

“Jace Velaryon is the standard. I’m sorry.”

“The hand in the hair. The bare back. The silence. Yeah, I’m not okay.”

“HOW DO I APPLY TO BE HER?”

“The way he’s handling her like that… this is too much.”

“I will never get over this. Ever.”

“Who gave him the right to post something like this?”

Meanwhile, Jace?

Completely unbothered. Probably smirking, watching the chaos unfold, scrolling through the absolute meltdown happening in his comments.

And just to ruin them further, he dropped a comment under his own post:

“Don’t be jealous. She’s right where she belongs.”

With that—

The internet was officially in ruins.

Daemon :

Daemon wasn’t a man who checked social media often. He didn’t care for it. But when his phone wouldn’t stop buzzing—when people kept sending him something, tagging him, warning him—he knew something was wrong.

Then he saw it.

And the world around him went silent.

It was you. Practically naked.

Soft lighting, shadows teasing just enough to make the image dangerous. The way you posed—deliberate, taunting, meant to provoke.

And the comments?

“I need a moment. Or a lifetime.”

“She’s actually unreal.”

“Daemon’s done for. There’s no way he’s letting this slide.”

“If he won’t treat you right, just know my DMs are open, .”

His fingers curled around his phone, grip tightening until the device creaked.

His jaw clenched, his breathing slow and controlled—because if he let himself fully feel this, if he let the jealousy and rage take hold, he would break something.

Or someone.

You were his. And yet, here you were, putting yourself on display for every desperate, pathetic fool to see. Did you enjoy this? The attention? The way they drooled over you?

A muscle in his jaw ticked as he opened your messages.

Daemon: Delete it. Now.

Nothing.

His nostrils flared, his lips pressing into a thin line. He refreshed the page—saw the likes climbing, the comments piling up. More eyes on you. More men thinking they had a chance.

Daemon: I won’t ask again.

Still, no response.

His vision blurred at the edges, his pulse pounding hard in his ears. He didn’t need to guess what you were doing—smirking at your phone, waiting, pushing him.

Fine. You wanted to play this game?

He sent one last message.

Daemon: I hope you had your fun. Because I’m coming to you. And when I get there, you’re going to regret making me jealous.

If you thought you could tease him, taunt him, make him seethe like this and get away with it—

You were about to learn exactly what happened when Daemon Targaryen snapped.

Daemon Revenge :

The Internet Was Not Ready.

People were barely breathing after the last time you pulled a stunt—

And then, he ended them.

A video.

Steam curled in the dimly lit bathroom, water cascading down your bare skin. Your body, glistening under the soft glow, was pressed firmly against the fogged-up glass.

And then—

Daemon.

His hand, wrapped around your wrists, pinning them behind your back. His body, completely covering yours, silver hair damp, clinging to his skin.

He wasn’t looking at the camera—he was looking at you.

His lips ghosted along your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin as his voice—low, smug, downright sinful—rumbled against your ear:

“Go on, love. Tell them how badly you want me.”

And the caption?

"Try harder. She’s not going anywhere."

The Internet? Decimated.

The Guys:

“THIS IS A CRIME AGAINST HUMANITY.”

“I am NOT okay. This is NOT okay.”

“You didn’t just flex. You obliterated us.”

“Daemon, bro, was this NECESSARY???”

“The way he claimed her, I—no, I can’t do this anymore.”

“Just say you hate us and go.”

“I actually felt physical pain watching this.”

“Daemon, bro. This was unnecessary.”

“HE’S NOT EVEN FLEXING—HE’S JUST OWNING US.”

“This man has no mercy. ZERO.”

“I would literally sell my soul to trade places with him.”

The Girls:

“I CAN’T DO THIS TODAY.”

“The way he’s just holding her there like that… I need to go outside.”

“Hands behind her back??? IN THE SHOWER??? I am ACTUALLY in pain.”

“That hand placement… I’m unwell.”

“You’re telling me she gets to live this life for FREE?”

“Daemon is disrespectful for this and I love it.”

“The way he’s handling her… yeah, I’m done.”

“This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen and I will never recover.”

Meanwhile, Daemon?

He was grinning, scrolling through the utter destruction he left in his wake, watching the internet collectively lose its mind.

And just to make it worse, he dropped a comment under his own post:

“Tell me again how you had a chance?”

With that—

The internet was officially in ruins.

Luke :

Luke was never the jealous type. He was sweet, easygoing—never the one to start fights, never the one to lose his temper.

But when he saw your post?

That soft, kindhearted boy? Gone.

His breath caught in his throat as his grip tightened around his phone, fingers pressing into the edges so hard the plastic nearly cracked. His jaw clenched, his heartbeat hammering in his chest.

You.

Barely covered, skin on full display, your gaze sultry, teasing—like you knew exactly what you were doing.

And the comments.

“This is my Roman Empire.”

“Imagine waking up next to her every morning.”

“Luke is too soft for this, he ain’t doing what needs to be done.”

“If Luke won’t handle her, I will.”

“She doesn’t belong to just one man. She’s for us.”

His vision blurred with rage. Us? The fuck do they mean, us? Did they really think they had a chance? That they could talk about you like this?

He immediately opened your messages, his breathing sharp, his fingers moving fast.

Luke: Take it down. Now.

Nothing.

His nostrils flared. He refreshed the post—saw the likes climbing, the comments piling up.

Luke: I’m serious.

Still nothing.

His patience? Gone. His normally warm, easygoing demeanor? Shattered.

You thought this was funny, didn’t you? You were pushing him, testing him.

Fine.

His next message was short.

Luke: Keep playing, love. But when I see you, don’t bother acting innocent. You wanted my attention? You’ve got it.

And Luke Velaryon?

He never let things slide.

Luke Revenge :

The internet collapsed.

People were barely breathing after your last post, still clawing their way back to sanity—

And then Luke decided to ruin lives.

A video.

Dim lighting, tangled sheets, the heavy sound of breathing filling the air. The camera was shaky, intimate—Luke wasn’t filming for them, he was filming for himself.

And then—

Your voice.

A broken, breathless moan of his name, soft, needy, wrecked.

And in the background?

Luke.

Smirking.

The angle barely caught him—just a glimpse of his sweat-slicked skin, the possessive grip of his hands on your waist. His voice, low, teasing, barely above a whisper:

“Louder, love. Let them know exactly who you belong to.”

And the caption?

"I don’t hear them laughing now."

The Internet Was NOT Okay.

The Guys:

“Nah. This ain’t right.”

“Luke, bro, please, have some mercy.”

“I can’t breathe. I actually can’t breathe.”

“I was having a good day.”

“I need everyone to stop what they’re doing and just process this.”

“He knew what he was doing. And I hate him for it.”

The Girls:

“I am actually going to scream.”

“Luke Velaryon is disrespectful.”

“She is so lucky and I hate it here.”

“I need what she has. IMMEDIATELY.”

“He really had to flex like this? On today of all days?”

Meanwhile, Luke?

He was grinning, scrolling through the absolute carnage in his comments, watching men and women completely unravel.

And just to finish them off, he dropped a comment under his own post:

“Jealous? You should be.”

With that—

The internet was officially deceased.

Margor :

Maegor didn’t do social media. He barely tolerated its existence. But when his phone wouldn’t stop buzzing—when people kept sending him something with messages that ranged from “Bro, you need to handle this” to “LMAO, she’s testing you”—he finally checked.

And his blood boiled.

It was you.

Practically naked.

Soft lighting, shadows teasing every dangerous curve, your expression taunting—as if you knew exactly what you were doing. As if you wanted to drive men insane.

And the comments.

“This is a religious experience.”

“If Maegor won’t handle you, I will.”

“She’s too stunning to be owned by just one man.”

“She belongs to the people now.”

“Maegor is somewhere flipping tables right now.”

His grip tightened around his phone, fingers curling so hard the device nearly cracked. His chest heaved as he breathed through his nose, his jaw locked so tight it ached.

You were his. And yet, here you were, putting yourself on display for every desperate, pathetic fool to see. Did you enjoy this? The attention? The way they lusted after you?

He opened your messages, his anger controlled—for now.

Maegor : The fuck you thinking?

Maegor: Delete it. Now.

Nothing.

His nostrils flared, his patience already threadbare. He refreshed the page—saw the likes climbing, the comments piling up. More eyes on you. More men thinking they had a chance.

Maegor: I won’t ask again.

Still, no response.

His vision darkened at the edges, his rage sinking deep into his bones. He could already see you smirking at your phone, waiting, pushing him.

Fine. You wanted to play this game?

His next message was short.

Maegor: I hope you enjoyed your little show. Because when I get to you, you’re going to learn exactly what happens when you make me jealous.

And when Maegor Targaryen snapped—

There was no escaping him.

Maegor Revenge :

The Internet Was Not Just Broken—It Was Obliterated.

No one was prepared. No one even had time to brace themselves.

Because Maegor Targaryen?

He didn’t just post—he declared war.

A video.

Dim lighting. A massive, gilded mirror reflecting the carnage behind it. Your body—wrecked, ruined, utterly claimed—pressed against the cold glass, your bare skin glistening with sweat.

And then—

Him.

Towering over you, still inside you, his broad hands gripping your hips so tightly there would be bruises—his bruises.

He didn’t even bother hiding his face.

Silver hair wild, lips parted, gaze locked on the mirror, watching himself own you in every way imaginable.

And then—his voice. Low, dark, dangerous.

“Let them watch.”

And the caption?

"You’ll never be me."

The Internet? Dead on Arrival.

The Guys:

“I have never been more jealous of a man in my entire life.”

“Maegor, please, have some HUMAN DECENCY.”

“This wasn’t a flex. This was a public execution.”

“I was happy. I was living my life. And now? I have to deal with this.”

“He’s not even trying to be humble. He’s just taunting us.”

“You know what? I’m logging off. I can’t do this today.”

The Girls:

“I’m actually feral right now.”

“HOW DO I APPLY TO BE HER.”

“The way he’s just holding her there like she’s nothing—I need a moment.”

“THIS COULD HAVE BEEN AN EMAIL, MAEGOR.”

“I can’t even hate. She’s living my dream.”

“This is the hottest thing I have ever seen. And I hate that I will never recover from it.”

Meanwhile, Maegor?

He wasn’t even looking at his phone. He had better things to do.

But when he finally did check?

He smirked. Slowly. Lazily. Completely unapologetic.

And just to make it worse, he dropped a single comment under his own post:

“Stay jealous. She’s not leaving my bed anytime soon.”

With that—

The internet was officially incinerated.

Aegon I :

Aegon wasn’t the jealous type—at least, that’s what he liked to tell himself. He was easygoing, laid-back, the type to laugh things off.

But then he saw your post.

And something inside him snapped.

His phone nearly slipped from his fingers as he stared at the screen. His chest rose and fell, breathing suddenly too shallow as his jaw tightened—so tight it ached.

You.

Barely covered, skin on full display, lips slightly parted like you knew exactly what you were doing. Like you wanted people to look.

And the comments—

“This is actually life-changing.”

“No way Aegon lets her get away with this LMAO.”

“She’s unreal. Divine. Untouchable.”

“If Aegon won’t claim her, I will.”

“Bro, she’s for the people now.”

His grip on his phone tightened so hard his knuckles turned white. The people? The fucking people? Did they think this was a game? That they could just—talk about you like that?

He opened your messages, fingers moving with an urgency that wasn’t entirely controlled.

Aegon: Take it down.

No response.

His jaw clenched harder. He refreshed the post. More likes. More thirsty comments from pathetic little nobodies who clearly didn’t understand their place.

Aegon: I’m not asking.

Still nothing.

His tongue swiped over his teeth as a low growl built in his throat. Oh, you thought this was funny, didn’t you? You were playing with him. Pushing him.

Fine.

His next message was short.

Aegon: I hope you got all the attention you wanted, baby. Because when I see you, the only thing you’ll be worrying about is how long I plan to keep you in my bed.

And Aegon Targaryen?

He never made empty threats.

Aegon I Revenge :

The Internet Was Not Ready.

People were barely recovering from the last time you decided to ruin their lives—

And then, he destroyed them.

A video.

Low lighting. The soft rustling of silk sheets. Your body glowing, tangled in his bed, looking like sin incarnate—your breath uneven, lips parted, skin flushed.

And then—

His hand.

Large, firm, resting possessively on your breast, fingers slightly digging in, making it painfully clear that you were his.

But that wasn’t the worst part.

The worst part was him.

Aegon, half-lidded cocky smirk, his other hand holding the camera, his cock still inside you, his grip lazy, casual—like he had all the time in the world.

And then, his voice—low, smug, devastating:

“Yeah… go ahead. Say something now.”

And the caption?

"Don’t act like you wouldn’t trade places."

The Internet? Absolutely Unhinged.

The Guys:

“Aegon, bro. Please. Have some compassion.”

“This is actually cruel.”

“I hate him so much but I respect it.”

“HE’S NOT EVEN TRYING TO BE HUMBLE ABOUT IT.”

“I was having a good day. Now I have to rethink my whole life.”

“This wasn’t necessary. He just wanted to hurt us.”

The Girls:

“She’s so lucky and I hate her.”

"Not even gonna lie, this ruined my entire day.”

“The way he’s just sitting there like a smug little bastard—yeah, I’m sick.”

“Aegon is the biggest menace to ever exist.”

“I have never known true jealousy until this moment.”

“She’s living the dream. I can’t even be mad.”

“HE KNOWS EXACTLY WHAT HE’S DOING AND IT’S DISRESPECTFUL.”

Meanwhile, Aegon?

He was laughing, scrolling through the absolute devastation in his comments, watching men spiral into despair and women descend into chaos.

And just to finish them off, he dropped a comment under his own post:

“Keep crying. She’s still moaning my name.”

And with that—

The internet was officially in shambles.

Rhaenyra :

Rhaenyra wasn’t one to obsess over social media, but when her phone wouldn’t stop buzzing—when people kept tagging her, sending her messages, practically warning her—she knew something was up.

And then she saw it.

Her stomach dropped. Her grip on the phone tightened.

It was you.

Draped in soft lighting, skin bare and glowing, your pose deliberate—calculated to tease, to tempt, to drive people insane. It left just enough to the imagination, while making it clear you knew exactly what you were doing.

And the comments?

“I can’t believe we’re witnessing perfection in real time.”

“This is actually dangerous.”

“If Rhaenyra doesn’t kill someone over this, I’ll be shocked.”

“No way she’s letting this slide.”

“If she won’t claim you, I will.”

Rhaenyra’s nails dug into her palm as she gritted her teeth. A sharp flare of jealousy surged through her—hot and possessive, a burning anger she rarely felt this intensely.

Because who were they to talk about you like this? To look at you like you weren’t hers?

Did you want this attention? Did you enjoy knowing people were drooling over you, imagining things they had no right to even think about?

She exhaled sharply through her nose, forcing herself to breathe before she opened your messages.

Rhaenyra: Take it down. Now.

No response.

Her fingers tightened around her phone as she refreshed your post. More likes. More comments. More pathetic fools thinking they had a chance.

Rhaenyra: I will not ask again.

Still nothing.

She could see you smirking at your phone, relishing in this, testing her.

Fine.

Her next message was short, sharp, final.

Rhaenyra: I’m coming to you.

If you thought she would just sit back, let you taunt her, let you make her jealous like this—

You were gravely mistaken.

Rhaenyra Revenge :

The internet collapsed.

People were barely recovering from your last post—scrolling, coping, trying to move on—when Rhaenyra ended them all with one photo.

A single image that sent the entire world into ruins.

It was you.

In her bed.

Soft lighting, silk sheets tangled around your body. Your head tilted back into the pillow, lips slightly parted, the glow of your skin dangerous in the dim light. And then—her hand. Resting on your thigh, fingers glistening with your release sprawled in a way that left no room for misinterpretation. She wasn’t just touching you. She was claiming you.

And the caption?

“Mine.”

The internet lost its mind.

Guys and girls alike descended into madness:

The Guys:

“I am actually about to throw up.”

“Rhaenyra, PLEASE, LET’S TALK ABOUT THIS.”

“Bro, how am I supposed to recover from this??”

“This isn’t fair. This is violence.”

“We lost. We fucking lost.”

The Girls:

“I’m happy for her but also devastated for me.”

“THIS COULD HAVE BEEN ME IN ANOTHER LIFE.”

“Do I congratulate them or do I cry? Or both?”

“Rhaenyra, what was the reason? WHAT WAS THE REASON??”

“I’m choosing to live in denial.”

Meanwhile, Rhaenyra? She was smirking at her phone, watching the despair unfold. She knew exactly what she was doing—dropping the photo, sitting back, and enjoying the chaos.

And just to truly bury everyone, she left a single comment under her own post:

“You can stop dreaming now.”

And with that—

The internet was officially in shambles.

Alicent :

Alicent never cared much for social media. She found it shallow, a place for desperate attention-seekers, a distraction from real matters. But when her phone wouldn’t stop buzzing—when messages kept coming in, some filled with concern, others with amusement—she knew something was wrong.

And then she saw it.

Her breath hitched. Her fingers tightened around her phone.

It was you.

Practically naked.

The lighting was soft, intimate—dangerous. The way you posed, the way your bare skin was on display, your confidence radiating off the screen… It was deliberate. It was a taunt.

And the comments—the flood of people thirsting over you, speaking as if they had a right to look at you like this, as if they could ever touch you—

“Mother of the gods, I need a moment.”

“Alicent is somewhere seething right now.”

“You’re actually unreal. Perfection.”

“If she won’t claim you, I will.”

“How does it feel to be the most desired person alive???”

Alicent’s grip on her phone was so tight, her knuckles turned white. A slow, hot wave of jealousy coiled in her chest—sharp, possessive, furious.

Did you enjoy this? The way people devoured you with their eyes? Did you want them to look at you, to desire you?

Her jaw locked as she opened your messages, her fingers moving with icy precision.

Alicent: Take it down. Now.

No response.

She refreshed the page. More likes. More disgusting, pathetic fools thinking they had a chance.

Alicent: I will not repeat myself.

Still nothing.

Her nails dug into her palm, her patience snapping thread by thread. She knew you were doing this on purpose. Testing her. Pushing her.

Fine.

Her next message was short. Final.

Alicent: If you think this little stunt is going to go unpunished, you are gravely mistaken.

If you thought she would sit back and allow you to tease her, to make her jealous, to tempt her patience—

You were about to deeply regret it.

Alicent Revenge :

The internet broke.

People were just recovering from your last post—scrolling, coping, trying to move on—when Alicent ended them all in one swift, merciless stroke.

A single photo.

Dim lighting, silk sheets slightly messy, shadows stretching across warm skin. You—in her bed. Head tilted back, lips slightly parted, hair yanked firmly in Alicent’s grip. The way her fingers curled into your strands—possessive, unrelenting, a silent but undeniable claim.

And the caption?

“Mine. And I don’t share.”

The internet descended into absolute chaos.

The Guys:

“I need a support group. This is actually painful.”

“Bro, I can’t compete with this.”

“Alicent did not have to flex this hard.”

“I swear I was fine five seconds ago.”

“The grip she has—on the hair, on the situation, on my emotions—I can’t take this.”

The Girls:

“Happy for them but also screaming inside.”

“This could have been me in another timeline.”

“Alicent said know your place, and I guess I will.”

“Do I cry? Do I throw my phone? Do I respect it? All of the above?”

“I was coping until she posted this. Now I’m just suffering.”

Meanwhile, Alicent? She was satisfied. Watching the world crumble, notifications exploding with people’s rage, jealousy, and despair.

And to truly finish them off, she left a single comment under her own post:

“Go ahead and cry. It changes nothing.”

And with that—

The internet was officially six feet under.

Tag list : @danytar @julessworldd @hangmanscoming @yazzzmints @giirlinblack @searatarg @vaelry @callsignwidow @ashblooddragons

103 notes · View notes

jazzy96scorpio · 2 days ago

Note

Yes of course any idea you have send it. Just give me the details 😊 I'm glad I can write for you. // It's me again, who asked 😅😅.

Could you write a funny/fluff one about Pedro x reader. Like the reader is visiting Pedro on the set of Fantastic Four in Oviedo and everyone makes Pedro being protective/jealous over the reader because the crew and his cast members (Coco included) makes him blush every time they tell him how happy he looks after he finally opened his heart to a serious relationship. Like the reader could maybe tell them some jokes about how goofy Pedro is around the house, or he almost burnt the whole house cause he can't cook 🤣🤣

(if my husband sees this: babe I love you, thanks for he inspo)

My Boyfriend, the Firestarter

Here is your request it was a quickly written 😁 I hope so you are gonna like it ❣️

Description: Burnt chicken, jealous extras, and a whole lot of love. This lighthearted story chronicles the ups and downs of dating Pedro Pascal in secret, proving that even a famous actor can be a dorky sweetheart (who occasionally sets things on fire).

⚠️ Warnings ⚠️: Lot of love and fluff

The crisp Oviedo air nipped at your cheeks as you huddled deeper into your oversized coat, watching Pedro film a scene.

He was seriously captivating, even when he wasn't just being Pedro. The director yelled "Action!", and boom – he was someone else entirely, this tough, seen-it-all kind of guy. You knew the real Pedro was a goofy and shy sweetheart with a surprisingly bookish side, a version the world rarely got to see.

That was your secret, and you cherished it.

Keeping your relationship under wraps had been Pedro's idea. He valued his privacy, and after a string of fleeting romances, he wanted something real, something away from the glare of the paparazzi.

You understood. It wasn't always easy, but the stolen moments, the whispered "I love you"s in quiet corners, made it all the more special.

As they were filming some extra dude strolled by offering a polite smile. You smiled back, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw Pedro’s gaze narrow.

His jaw tightened, and he totally messed up his line which, of course, the crew found hilarious.

"Cut!" the director yelled. "Pedro, you okay? Lost in thought?"

Pedro shot a angry glare at the guy, though he was trying to play it cool.

He mumbled something about needing a coffee break and he grabbed your hand, practically dragging you off set.

"Someone's a little jealous," Coco, his hair groomer and close friend, chuckled, winking at you. Coco was one of the few who knew about your relationship, and he delighted in teasing Pedro.

"I'm not jealous," Pedro protested, though his flushed cheeks said otherwise. He pulled you into a quiet corner, away from prying eyes. "Just…protective."

"I know, babe " you said, reaching up to smooth a stray curl from his forehead. "And I appreciate it."

"He was practically drooling over you," Pedro grumbled, though a smile played on his lips.

"He smiled politely," you corrected, laughing. "Besides, I only have eyes for you."

Pedro’s expression softened, and he pulled you into a gentle embrace.

"That's what I like to hear," he whispered, kissing you softly. "Now, where were we? Ah yes, coffee. And then…maybe we can sneak off somewhere later?"

The thought of spending some quiet time with Pedro, away from the set and the watchful eyes of the crew, made your heart flutter. Being with him, even amidst the chaos of his career, was the best feeling in the world. And as you walked hand-in-hand towards the catering tent, you knew that no matter how famous he was, no matter how many handsome extras smiled your way, your heart belonged to Pedro Pascal, the man behind the actor. And his heart, you knew, belonged to you.

You and Pedro grabbed some empanadas and settled at a table when, inevitably, the cavalry arrived. Coco, naturally, was first, followed by Vanessa, Joseph, and Ebon, his co-stars. The whole crew seemed to show up around you and Pedro.

The conversation buzzed with set stories and inside jokes, and then, Coco, never one to miss an opportunity, piped up, "Pedro, you seem…radiant. Dare I say…happy?"

Vanessa chimed in, "Seriously, Pedro. You've got that glow. Is there something you're not telling us?"

Joseph raised an eyebrow suggestively. "Finally settling down, are we? Someone's tamed the wild Pascal."

Ebon, always the joker, added, "Next thing we know, you'll be wearing matching sweaters and adopting a golden retriever."

Pedro blushed and stammering, "Guys, come on…" He glanced at you, a mix of amusement and slight panic in his eyes.

You squeezed his hand under the table, giving him a reassuring smile.

"They're right, actually," you said, deciding to put him out of his misery. "He is happy. And yes, he is in a serious relationship. With me."

A chorus of "Oohs" and "Finally!" erupted from the group. Pedro looked at you, his expression softening.

"He's amazing," you continued, ignoring the playful whistles. "Even if he did almost kill me that one time."

"Hey! It was a rogue toaster oven!" Pedro protested.

"And he almost burned down my kitchen trying to make me chicken soup when I had the flu," you added, grinning. "It smelled like burnt rubber and despair."

"In my defense, the recipe said 'sear the chicken,' and I wasn't entirely clear on the definition," Pedro mumbled.

Everyone burst out laughing.

"But seriously," you said, turning to Pedro, your voice softening.

"He's the most wonderful, goofy, caring man I've ever met. And I’m crazy about him."

You leaned in and kissed him, a sweet, lingering kiss that shut down any further teasing. When you pulled back, Pedro was beaming, his earlier embarrassment forgotten.

He looked at you, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. "I love you too," he whispered, just loud enough for you to hear. And in that moment, surrounded by the laughter and chatter of his friends and colleagues, you knew that your secret, while now shared, was still something precious, something uniquely yours and Pedro’s.

Later that night, back in your hotel room, the city lights twinkled outside as you cuddled close to Pedro. He was scrolling through his phone, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"You know," he said, finally putting his phone down, "I'm really…really happy."

"Me too," you whispered, nuzzling into his side.

"I mean…seriously happy," he clarified, his eyes searching yours. "I want…I want this to be something real. Something…forever."

Your heart did a little flip. "Me too, Pedro."

He took your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. "Maybe…maybe you could come with me to the premiere?" he asked, a touch of nerves in his voice.

"I'd love that," you said, squeezing his hand.

He pulled you closer, his gaze intense. "I mean it," he murmured. "I want to be with you…forever. Whenever you're ready…I'm ready."

Tears pricked at your eyes. "Pedro," you said, your voice thick with emotion, "I love you. I will love you forever. And I'm so incredibly lucky to have you. You're an amazing man."

He kissed you gently, a slow, tender kiss. When he finally broke the kiss, he grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"So," he said, his voice dropping to a low rumble, "about the rest of the night…I was thinking…we could do some things?"

He nuzzled his nose against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. "Naughty?"

He trailed a finger down your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. "Definitely spicy"

You laughed, playfully shoving him. "You're incorrigible," you said, even as your heart pounded in your chest.

"Hey," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear, "a man's gotta have priorities."

He nipped playfully at your earlobe, making you gasp. "And mine," he continued, his voice husky, "are definitely…you."

He pulled you closer, his eyes burning with a playful intensity. "Unless," he murmured, his lips brushing against yours, "you had other plans?"

You met his gaze, a playful smile dancing on your lips. "Oh," you whispered back, "we'll just have to see where the night takes us."

After fun and naughty time as you drifted off to sleep later, wrapped in his arms, you knew that the "forever" he spoke of wasn't just a word. It was a promise, a feeling, a shared dream. And you, you were ready for it. Ready for forever, with Pedro, and whatever delicious surprises he had in store.

To all husbands if your wife is reading this,

SHE LOVES YOU..And she just likes to read 😉 Let her enjoy 😊

Thank you for your request and reading 💜

It was my pleasure ❣️

#pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fluff

87 notes · View notes

orchidyoonkook · 2 days ago

Text

KIKI!!!!!! I know I already screamed at you in DMs but holy shit dude!! I'm so spoiled in your love <<<33333. My coworkers literally looked at me like I was nuts because of how near manic my smile was reading this. I cannot believe you wrote all this about my babies. They love you so much too!!

can i just say how i am totally captivated by this fic once again just going back and reading everything again had me mesmerized by this plot line,

YOU REREAD IT???!!!! 😭😭😭😭♥♥♥ I love your love for them so much. You make me wanna keep writing every time I see your name in my inboxes with your delicious words. I eat them up in record time, every time.

The plot line was VERY plotted so I'm glad it's being given a moment to shine!!!!

seriously it is so good you guy have no idea, it's written to perfection that you are completely be drawn into the story, just like a movie it plays out in front of your eyes as you read the words i am not even joking it's literally the best part about it that you get drawn into the fic like that it's magical I tell you...

I try so hard to get the details and imagery. The movie thing is EXACTLY what I want to happen as you read so this particular feedback makes my heart just SIIIIIIIIIINNNNNGGG.

Also I will cry at "it is so good you have no idea" because I'm trying so hard to write stories worth reading, ones you don't go "meh" afterwards. Like I want the folks who read them to be happy they spent their free time reading my stories, so I cannot stress enough how much hearing things like this motivates me, thrills me, and fills me with the most incredible happiness.

sorry for the babbling on

NEVER! No sorries, I live for the babble. I love to yap, babble, whichever, gimmie all of it no bars held.

but i can't fully express how much i love this fic and i can't not mention the prince and me because it just reminds me of it especially oc's personality and how she works so hard to achieve her goals i love it so much,

I LOVE THAT MOVIE

It was not any part of the inspiration for this fic tho! Funny enough, but now that you mention it, you're so totally right, (minus the initially douchey prince) but holy cow the similarities are kinda wild now that I'm thinking about it. I sweat it wasn't intentional XD

yoon your words, how you describe oc passion and jungkook's desires it's just beautiful you build the scenes so well and not only that the emotions, their thoughts it's like you are one with the character and this world you have build it sometimes brings me to tears to read the way your wrote their thoughts like in chapter 3 I literally had tears in my eyes...

emotions are so hard dude, especially as an AuDHD girly. So i again, try so hard to get them right. I just experience emotions differently than 'regular' folk, in a way that's hard to describe and feel, therefore, making emotions and desires hard for me to describe and write into my characters. So confirmations like this help me a lot to know that what I'm doing is working for the readers!!

(also not me and going back to reread chapter three so I could remember what you were hinting at there XD)

I was honestly blown away and that scene in the at the cafe when they are truly just themselves, i can't stop saying this but they way you write is pure gold and i hang on all of your words, the way oc and jungkook conversations just flow and holds so much meaningful moments like i can't describe it but it feels more like just a conversation for a story it just latches on to my heart and i feel like your words have so much meaning behind them, the placement of certain words, what they talk about it's like poetry if i am being honest i feel like there should be an analysis of each line or thought that they have that's the best way I can describe it...

The words do in fact have loads of meaning behind them, they are all also intentionally chosen and placed, so you nailed that to a T. But that being said, I did go back and reread this scene and I sae a good handful of mistakes (grammar and double uses of words close togehter). And thats what I get for editing chapters so quickly after writing them, I don't catch those XD.

It's so funny you mention poetry because you aren't the first person to compare my writing style to poetry, and that's funny to me because I don't like poetry 😂😂. Like at all. I could/can never get the meanings behind it like other people were abel to do (hello un/diagnosed AuDHD literal thinking brain)

An analysis would be so cool. Vi (violetsiren90) does that for me sometimes and she'll get meanings out of my words that I didn't even intend to have, but there she goes, everytime, making me out to be way better of a writer than I really am XD

jumping into ch. 5 can i just say i love oc's spirals about the jungkook dating news i don't wanna spoil it but gosh i love her trying to decipher why it's that girl, why out of the people in the world it's her

omg OC is just like me FRRRRR. I spiral think about everythhiinnngggg. and it's gotta be her for the plot, i dont make the rules except yes I do

i really enjoyed that and her subtle inclusion of herself in the comparisons hehehehe oc i see you, also i am with Yuri and oc on the hate train, oc's just hilarious in that conversation i love it..

I love seeing everyones reactions to Her, because obviously from a literary POV she's written in to be a villainous type of character, but from an I created this human being from my mind POV, I know why she is the way she is, and in the wise words of Ender Wiggin "I think it’s impossible to really understand somebody, what they want, what they believe, and not love them the way they love themselves."

As for OC doing the subtle comparisons, I loved that because it makes her that much more human and real to me.

so the slow ass burn warning was very much needed hey wow no I still can't believe jk did a whole post with that girl and didn't tell oc, i somewhat get where his coming from but cmon how did he think she would react especially since their friendship is so strong and they clearly care about one another hehehe

slow burns are my fav and you can bet your ass it. is. slow. i make no apologies. I've had the plot plotted for three years now and I've loved the arc for just as long. I hope you will too

I think we as people, often forget that JK is a boy, and even though hes a nice boy with big responsibilites in this story with his title and all that, he is still, a boy. And boys arent the best at remembering to tell people stuff XD. also he like,, really didnt want to tell OC XDD

and jk's spiral after she confronts him ouch the slowest burn ever and the angst got me hooked,

😈😈😈😈😈 I love yearning so much, it really just makes a story that much more story centered.

i am absolutely looking forward to how things proceed between jk and this girl and oc's take on everything will she be able to focus on her time with nel

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IT'S BEEN SO FUN TO WRITE THIS!!! The back and forth, the similarities, the differences, all of it between the two couples, oh it's so fun to compare and contrast them.

i'm pretty sure she's gonna have jk on the brain

no comment.

(also not sure if i mentioned it but I am sooooo not team this girl she's clearly soaking up all the influence jk brings and the complete opposite of what jk needs and she's oc's nemesis so not my vibe i can only imagine a scene where this girl just says the wrong thing in oc's presence and oc just flips and gives her a piece of her mind oooohh I hope that

i really wanna say something about this point specifically. but i CANT because it spoils something in a future currently unwritten, but very well documented plot wise, chapter. so just know that i wanna but cant.

(also the giggle /eye roll, which i totally blame on oc by the way, that i let out when i read this man was at a party making out with this girl, jk whatcha doing my guy??????)

excellent. As we can clearly tell from his tone in the chapter he was having an absolute BLAST (sarcasm). Very much: *through gritted teeth* "I love my job" of him.

lemme hop on into the next chapter and see jk's thought this man better explain himself 😉🤭🖤

EXCITEEEEEEEEMENTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!

okay!!! i have officially spent about two hours writing this reply now (between writing, and having to go back and reread stuff and then wiritnig and rereading) so i hope it's a good response! if you have anymore questions or talking points, you know where I am. And if it wasn't blatantly obvious: Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you. for all the kind words and the theories and the thoughts. I cannot thank you enough for this. Thank you.

xo, Yoon

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 5

Title: Shocking Announcements and Camouflaged Explanations

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: I'm sorry the prince is dating WHO?

Warnings: PG16, swearing, drinking, pining, angsssttttttttt, Jk has a lot of feelings, and so does Reader. Yuri being Yuri. Adaline being Adaline. TOUCH of fluff.

Word Count: 6,006

Release Date: October 20, 2023, 2:00PM

A/N 1: brain mush. finally out. Thank you for understanding. Already working on 6.

Series: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

It’s 2:30pm on the Wednesday before fall reading week.

Saturday’s looking so beautiful. Sunny skies and comfortable temperatures.

It’s 2:30pm on the Wednesday before the Friday you get to see Nel for the first time since August.

And by god you can’t wait. You’re counting the days, minutes and seconds till he’s in front of you again.

But it’s also 2:30pm on the Wednesday after you mysteriously woke up in your bed after movie night. And that thought alone has been in the back of your mind since you opened your eyes Monday morning.

You’d thought about asking Jungkook what happened, but also didn’t think you could face the mortification if his answer was the one you almost 100% knew it was going to be. Hell, you could already feel the nose dive your stomach would make towards pavement the second you got confirmation.

So instead, like any other rational person, you shelved it away in the back corner of your brain. Far, far back, hopefully being covered with dirt and cobwebs and lint as the days pass on.

Though you have a nagging feeling that someone or something keeps dusting—anyways, there are much more important things to be focusing on.

Currently at the greenhouse cafe, you’re sipping on hot chocolate and painting this week's florals on a canvas almost half the size of you. Perched onto an easel, a bunch of sunflowers is beginning to take shape when your phone dings so many times you're worried someone’s dead.

Dropping your brush, you scoop it up from its place on the edge of the table, only to see a series of texts from Yuri, and you loose a worried breath.

Her contact name is the same from when you two went to a party the first night of freshman year. While you were sipping from your first and only drink that night, Yuri was sloshed out her mind and slurring her words. And thus, SlurryYuri was born.

She whines every time she sees you still haven’t changed it. You were never going to, of course.

SlurryYuri [2:32pm]: BITCH

Oh, here we go.

SlurryYuri [2:33pm]: YOU WILL NEVER GUESS WHO WENT SOCIAL MEDIA OFFICIAL TODAY SlurryYuri [2:33pm]: BABE ANSWER SlurryYuri [2:33pm]: ANSWER ANSWER ANSWERRRRR SlurryYuri [2:34pm]: YNNNNNNNN

You [2:34pm]: Take a breath why dont you

SlurryYuri [2:34pm]: FINALLY. SlurryYuri [2:34pm]: By the gods YN… SlurryYuri [2:35pm]: ANYWAY SlurryYuri [2:35pm]: JUNGKOOK SlurryYuri [2:35pm]: as in PRINCE Jungkook SlurryYuri [2:36pm]: is dating ADALINE. SlurryYuri [2:36pm]: as in #1 ENEMY OF THE STATE EVIL BITCH ADALINE.

You spit out what was left of the hot chocolate in your mouth.

Thankfully, you had some of your mind about you and managed not to ruin your painting by turning your head…couldn’t say the same for the cafe wall though. Rustic brick now splattered with a lovely, Pollock-esque spray of brown.

Oops.

But Jungkook and…Adaline? That doesn’t make any sense whatsoever.

He hasn’t mentioned anything about this to you. You speak to him every day, see him almost every day, and nothing? Not a peep? A morsel? A hint? Nothing?

Maybe you two aren’t as close as you thought you were.

To be fair, you didn’t tell him about Nel. And now that you think about it, you haven’t seen or heard much from Jungkook since Sunday, which is unusual. He’s normally stuffing your inbox full of messages as the sun rises and sets, yet he’s sent maybe two a day since then.

You thought he was just busy with schoolwork.

Spiraling, you can’t help but wonder how long they’ve been seeing one another. How long he’s kept this little secret—not that it’s any of your business anyway, but he’s always seemed so open with you, with just about everything. So the fact that he kept this from you? What does that say?

Does he think you’d react like any other girl? That you would scream and cry and mourn and tell him he’s making a mistake, that you’re his true love? Like Adaline would if he weren’t dating her?

As if! And he knows that.

He knows that…right?

Doesn’t matter. Yes it does. No it doesn’t.

Ugh! Whatever!

Does he even know who Adaline really is? Or does she put on a mask in front of him too, like she does everyone else. She must because now you wonder how he could even possibly like someone like her, knowing…well her!

Bitchiness and duchess-ness aside, you and Adaline are incredibly similar, and Jungkook has never had any interest in you whatsoever, thank god. You and Adaline are both fine arts majors, both top of your class, talented, driven. You both work tirelessly for what you want, and don’t let others get in your way to success. Though only one of you will cheat if you have too, morals be damned. You both want your lives to yourself, to make your own path, to be trailblazers in your chosen fields.

That kind of woman doesn’t seem like Jungkook's type.

He needs someone who will follow him, and allow him to lead the nation. Someone who is okay submitting to him and his needs for the good of the people and the betterment of the Western Shores. He needs a politically inclined cheerleader, for lack of better phrasing. And that isn’t Adaline at all…or you, if you're still putting yourself in this conversation, which you’re not.

Also, wasn’t it a rule that princes could only marry princesses? Or was it that nice, genuine people shouldn’t end up with assholes who use and abuse those around them for social status and power? And isn’t that a thing for him too—that he hates when people use him for his name?

So how could he go for her? You can’t fathom a goddamn reason as to why—

Ah…Well.

You can, but you hate it.

Adaline is beautiful, and while no, not a princess, she does have a title the prince can be seen with in public without ridicule, friend or more than. Someone who wouldn’t be looked at like a charity case or a flavour of the week. Someone who’s used to the media. Adaline doesn’t have to hide from them. Isn’t scared to be seen by them with him. It wouldn’t ruin her future. It’ll only add to i—Wait.

Holy shit.

Adaline comes from one of the most influential families on the Eastern Shores. One with a lot of political power. Like, best friends with the Queen of the Eastern Shores, political power. Though she was only ever graced with sons. Adaline’s probably the closest thing she has to a daughter.

A marriage between Jungkook and Adaline could potentially unify the two sides again.

Jungkook and Adaline could re-unite the East and West after centuries of war and separation, and current amicable co-existence.

Now that’s a reason he would date her. to become power couple of the century.

The next step in history.

The whole idea of them makes more and more sense the more you think about it. Adaline, darling of the East marrying the future King of the West. And your stomach curls in on itself.

Just because it makes sense doesn’t mean you have to like it.

And you pray to whatever god or gods there are in this universe that he keeps her away from you and out of your conversations. Jungkook’s relationship isn’t any of your business, nor your interest, but you don’t know how well you’d be able to keep your mouth shut about her if he asks anything.

You know he likes that you’re honest. That you don’t hide things from him others would just to please him. But at what point do you put that aside to keep the peace in an otherwise very comfortable and still blossoming friendship? At what point does honesty become an obstacle rather than a building block?

You know that if Jungkook ever meets Nel and happens not to like him he would keep his mouth shut, mostly. Hopefully. He may give you a hard time but that’s just him. Jungkook knows your relationship is important to you, that it and Nel, make you happy. He would respect that.

So again, who are you to speak ill of the person he’s chosen for himself? Maybe he knows something you don’t, sees something in her that you haven’t.

Just…Why did it have to be Adaline?

He could have anyone, anyone—on campus, in the West, the East, for the love of god, he could have anyone in the entire ass realm he wants! It’s easy to forget when he speaks with his mouth full, dresses in baggy, comfy clothes, and whines about movie choices, but Jungkook is still Prince of the Western Shores.

He’s still the most eligible bachelor on the continent.

Yet somehow he chose the one person you can’t stand to be within 1000 feet of. He chose the one person you never thought he would’ve liked for himself because underneath everything, she is everything he claims to hate.

He chose Adaline Dupree.

So yeah, you wonder why he hid it from you. Why he felt like he couldn’t tell you. Sure, you hated her, but he doesn’t know that. Probably.

Maybe his love life is something he keeps private? Everyone has that right, and maybe that’s what he’s used to doing due to his every choice being splashed on every news and media outlet there is.

You roll your eyes. Merciless vultures.

So maybe he’s not used to sharing this side of himself with others. Maybe that’s why he didn’t tell you anything.

And with all of this chaos now flitting around your brain, you failed to notice the little slice of pain behind your sternum the more they ricochet around up there. You’re hurt.

You didn’t expect it to hurt.

Out of everything you could feel about this: confusion, anger, exasperation, annoyance, you don’t feel any of them. You just feel upset that he didn’t come to you about it. Didn’t feel like he could discuss it with you.

You are the person your friends—old and new—come to talk to. Always have been. You’re the one who has the rational, well thought out advice. The common sense distributor. The one sought out to help, regardless of the situation.

And you love it. You love that you’re able to help your friends. Love that they trust you with such things. That you’re the person they seek assistance and guidance from. The ear they bounce their thoughts off of. You’ve always been told you have ‘knowledge beyond your years’ as your mother says. You take pride in that. It gives your life that much more meaning.

So even though you don’t want to, and know you shouldn’t, because it has nothing to do with you and you know that…you’re taking this as somewhat of a personal blow.

Maybe you’re losing your touch. You hope not.

But, you need to react like you normally would. Like you still hate the prince for how he humiliated Yuri, just like she hates Adaline for you. Solidarity between best friends, even if it’s fake.

Come on YN you got this, you think to yourself.

You [2:40pm]: I almost feel sorry for him. After how he treated you tho? They deserve each other

No they don’t, no they don’t, no they don’t.

He deserves so much better.

SlurryYuri [2:40pm]: I’m just surprised he went for her tbh SlurryYuri [2:41pm]: isnt she like a total bitch? To you at least? SlurryYuri [2:41pm]: like just knowing what I do from the tiny bit of time I spent with him, she doesn’t really seem to be his type

Vindication!

You [2:42pm]: uh yeah, like 100% yes. Shes a rich party girl who doesnt know the word punishment, always gets what she wants, regardless if she works for it or not. And takes it when she especially doesnt deserve it You [2:43pm]: probably explains how she got him 🙄

Vivian pops outside to check in, and takes the couple steps to reach your table, some napkins and a large cup of water in hand.

“Hey! Are you okay? I saw that spit take and one; wow, that was impressive. But two; is everything alright?” she asks, passing you the napkins. The water gets thrown on the wall to wash off the splatter.

You wipe up your chin and remnants of projected hot chocolate on the table.

“Sorry, thank you. Yes, I’m fine,” you lie easily. A little scared of how easy it’s becoming. “I just learned some really shocking news is all. I shouldn’t have read it with a full mouth.”

“Oh! That makes sense. I hope whatever it is turns out fine.”

“Thanks, me too.”

You know Vivian means well, but she doesn’t know that that is the very last thing you want. You want Adaline’s corruptive, cutthroat, cruel nature away from Jungkook.

But is he just Jungkook anymore?

You’ve spent enough time together to consider him a friend, a close friend even. You’ve grown to care for him, platonically, similar to the way you do Yuri. And the fact that you want Adaline as far away from him as she can get so he doesn't go through whatever shit she’ll inevitably get him wrapped up in, definitely says something.

Adaline loves many things—art, fashion, publicity—but the thing she likes better than anything else?

Attention.

She thrives on it. The more eyes on her the better. She’s a ‘there’s no such thing as bad press’ type, and you worry what that means for him.

Especially now that she’s taken them public—because you know it was her that did it, he would have never—and she’s going to be the hottest topic in all of the newest news cycles.

Say they’ve been seeing one another since the beginning of the school year? Just a guess, but a likely correct one—you shiver at the thought. That’s less than seven weeks to get to know one another before camera crews and reporters start breathing down their necks. They’ll ask and comment on everything you thought you might go through at one point. But unlike you, Adaline will face it head on with a smile and win them over. Gladly welcome them with open arms.

Because exactly like Jungkook fears with everyone new, she desires everything a relationship with him would give her.

Status, fame, power, wealth, brand sponsorships, popularity, jealousy, people wishing they could be her. You couldn’t build a better trap to lure her into if you tried.

Jungkook is potentially unknowingly feeding her already enormous ego simply by publicly dating her. And it dawns on you that your classes with her are going to become even more insufferable.

Great.

You don’t even know if she’s going to care that she has him. As wonderful, kind and talented as Jungkook is, you have a very good sense that she’ll be just like rest; happy to receive what he can give her, and not a damn to be given about him.

So now you worry. You worry for him and for his safety and for his feelings.

Because that’s what friends do.

Right?

“Hey.”

You look up to see Jungkook rounding the back corner to the cafe, backpack slung over a shoulder, mask, hat and hoodie all too familiar. You’d be able to spot him a mile away now, it’s all in his posture and eyes.

Maybe he should invest in some sunglasses.

And slouch.

You’re elbows deep in yellow and brown paint from the sunflowers that now fill the canvas in front of you. You’ve been experimenting with texture, oil paint thicker in some places to give off a more 3D effect. Stripes of green carved into the medium by the edge of a long palette knife mimic stems, and fat leaves placed with precision also riddle the cloth.

As he nears, you try your best not to come off as upset, pissed off or worried when you reply.

“Hey,” you fail miserably, sounding exactly like you’re all kinds of upset, and pissed off, and worried.

Shit.

Like always, he notices immediately.

“Everything okay?” he’s taking his spot at the table beside you, the one that seats four, having abandoned his original one weeks ago.

You two both found yourselves here so frequently that over time, he started sitting next to you without asking. Always in the same spots. Always side by side. Him at the closest chair to you, you at the same one you always have.

Sure, you two shared movie nights and fun messages, you talk everyday and pretty much talk about whatever you want. But when it comes to academics, he knows he has to tread water a little differently around you. He can’t constantly start conversations the way he would at movie night when you’re at the greenhouse cafe. You’re here to work and to study, and if he wants to be there too, he has to respect that about you, and know not to take it personally.

So you work together in comfortable silence most of the time, occasionally breaking it to have a conversation, get snacks, or pose for one another’s homework. It’s become another routine you share, an unspoken agreement that when you were both there at the same time, you worked together.

And you haven’t minded since that first time. The one when you decided to say yes to your friendship.

You welcome it. Welcome him. His presence.

Company’s nice to have when it’s wanted.

When it’s him.

And whether you know it or not, you seem to work better when you are in each other's immediate orbit. You work better when he works alongside you, able to focus better due to body doubling and to have a second opinion at the ready when you need it. Just like he worked better when you worked alongside him, a willing model any time he needed, and an open ear when he wanted to work something out.

You two just work. And because of this, he also picks up when something isn’t quite right with the atmosphere you two have created.

Play it off YN.

“Yeah, just focused. Sorry.”

He doesn’t believe you for a second. When you focus you have a very distinct look on your face, eyes clearer, an eyebrow constantly quirked in self reflection, and that isn’t the one you have on right now.

But he lets it slide. For now. Somethings up with you, and he knows better than to push you before you’re ready.

“That’s okay. I’m running in, need anything?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you go back to painting, barely acknowledging him and shutting out the outside world.

Yeah, something’s definitely up.

You’re ignoring him so hard you don’t notice Jungkook lifting your hot chocolate just enough to feel it’s empty.

Vivian’s behind the counter as he enters and takes off his mask to flash her a wide smile.

“Hey Vivian, how are you today?”

She blushes like she does every time he comes in, hands slowing in their task.

“Hey JK, I’m good. You?” He had to ask her about a hundred times to drop the ‘your highnesses,’ ‘you majesty’s,’ and ‘prince’s.’ Telling her it really was okay, and that no, she wasn’t going to get in trouble for it. It took her some time, but eventually she came around and it’s made his experience here so much better. So much more normal.

She’d settled on JK because ‘it makes me feel like I’m listening to what you want while also not feeling guilty and weird about calling you Jungkook without the prince part.’

He could work with that logic.

“I’m alright, could I get my usual and a hot chocolate for YN? With a little extra secret ingredient if you're so inclined?” You shared the not so secret stash secret with Jungkook about a week after you said yes. “She seems upset. Have you noticed anything off lately? Has she said anything to you?”

Jungkook peruses the pastry display while Vivian starts on his drink.

“Not really, she did a wicked spit take earlier about some news her friend told her, but said she was fine, just surprised. Besides that, focused maybe? Or maybe the opposite of that and a little distracted?” She thinks for a second. “Does she have an exam coming up that you know about? She gets a little weird before those.”

He knows exactly what’s meant by that. Witnessed it himself, bunny slippers and all.

But no, you don’t. Your midterms aren’t until the first week of November, nearly two weeks away. You started studying for them last week.

He spots egg tarts in the back corner of the pastry display, hiding. Perfect.

“I don’t think that’s it, but thanks though. I’ll get it out of her eventually, especially if I have one of those egg tarts to butter her up first,” he says in a questioning tone to ask for one while pointing at them.

Vivian smiles a knowing smile. He wants to know what it means because she’s worn it around him for a while now, and he’s half tempted to ask at this point.

“I think that could be arranged.”

Jungkook pays and heads to your tables again. You’re still locked into your own world of colour and canvas. He subtly sets down the hot chocolate and bagged tart so that you won’t notice until you pop the bubble you’re in.

Halfway through a business assignment he hears your surprise. The weird look on your face finally breaking, a grateful one taking its place as you peek at him.

A soft, genuine, “thank you,” finds his ears as your lips meet lid, and you can’t meet his eye. He knows you often forget to drink or eat when you’re in the zone.

Maybe now with a warm drink and some goodies in your belly, you’re willing to talk about it.

“You sure everything’s okay?” he asks again.

Your deep sigh and unfocused gaze says enough to him.

You are willing to talk.

Quietly, almost ashamed sounding, you ask, “Why didn't you tell me about her?”

Her?

Oh.

Oh…

You meant Adaline. Why hadn’t he told you about Adaline.

“Why did I find out an hour ago from Yuri screaming at me through text messages and not from you? Is it something you’re private about? Do you not trust me?”

The truth was that he was hoping to keep it under wraps for a bit longer, actually, hoping you never found out so he wouldn’t have to explain the reason why.

He still doesn’t have too, and he won’t. Not the real reason.

He won’t ruin things. He can’t.

But he also should have known better. Should have known that not telling you would hurt you instead. Of course he trusted you.

You talk everyday, sometimes for hours, sometimes just to check in. You hang out during the week, whether it be at the cafe like you are right now, or for Sunday movie night.

Six weeks isn’t a long time, but it was plenty when he thinks about how much time you two have already spent together, how much you’ve gotten to know one another.

How comfortable you are in each other’s presence.

Six weeks isn’t a long time, but it feels like you’ve always been there with him, listening, cheering, supporting.

Six weeks isn't a long time, and yet it feels like it’s been forever.

Of course you’re hurt he didn’t tell you. So he doesn’t lie to you, but he also doesn’t tell you the full truth.

“Oh…uh, that.” He rubs a hand at the nape of his neck. “That just kind of happened recently actually, like Monday recently. My father’s been really pressuring me to find someone to court,” and I couldn’t go with my first choice. “So I did.”

“And you went with Adaline?” You ask carefully.

“Uh, yeah? Is there something wrong with her?”

Adaline isn’t his first, second or tenth choice. She's his father’s choice. Might as well appease him and at least try with this girl. It’s going…fine, so far.

Adaline wanted to make it social media official as soon as possible, wanted what he could give her, like everyone else. Like he expected. And so he willingly suffered through a photo session where she staged everything to make it look perfectly unposed and natural. Even though none of it was.

She’d told him to put his arms around her waist and kiss her forehead, and it worked. The picture wasn’t bad, they both looked great. But he hated it anyway. It wasn't a spur of the moment decision, or sincere. It wasn’t a picture of two fools drunk on love, wanting to capture something beautiful for their future selves to look back on to reminisce over.

It was an uncomfortable hour and a half of touching and kissing a complete stranger, and it is the complete opposite of what he wants in a relationship.

He wants genuine and carefree and candid. He wants honest, true feelings and social media posts saved for anniversaries and birthdays instead of using them as a mini documentary of every part of his life through pictures.

He wants shitty birthday cakes made from scratch, and blurry polaroid pictures of kisses in the rain to put in his wallet when he’s away from them. He wants silly nicknames and inside jokes no one else will understand.

He wants midnight walks hand in hand under moonlight and quirky habits he picks up from them. He wants pictures of precious moments and holidays celebrated between just the two of you and movie nights under blanket forts with popcorn and hot chocolate and egg tarts.

He wants real.

He wants authentic.

He wants love.

Not some staged artificial bullshit for an online presence that means nothing once you’re dead.

But this is new and exciting for Adaline. He understands that a relationship with him is a very big deal, that she’s not used to it yet, and that it hasn’t been nearly long enough for him to see the true her yet.

It’s only been 44 hours. Not that he’s counting.

So he’s going to give her some time, and have some faith that maybe she shows him that side of herself if it exists. He doesn't think she's going to change all that much for several reasons, the first being her enormous reputation, and the second being that she’s a politician's daughter, but he’s going to at least try. The way he hopes she will.

And if nothing does change, and she stays the exact same, at least she’s pretty enough to distract him.

He knows that’s not the most mature or princely thing to do or think. In fact, he knows it’s quite asshole-ish of him, but if Adaline’s going to openly use him for her own personal gain, why shouldn’t he be able to use her just a little bit too?

She isn’t unfamiliar with political relationships, having been born from one, so he doesn’t think she would be against it either. And it’s not like he’ll be mistreating her, quite the opposite in fact.

He’ll shower her with expensive gifts and happily take however many pictures she wants. He’ll smother her in physical affection and get or do whatever she needs in order to make her happy.

Because as much as she clearly wants this relationship with him for whatever reason, he desperately needs it more with every passing day. He needs somewhere to put everything he’s feeling. And if that happens to be in a beautiful woman his father approves of who he could possibly, eventually grow feelings for? It’s a win-win in his book.

But at the same time, sometimes he really hates the shit he has to navigate in his Royal Life.

While Jungkook is caught in his thought spiral, you bite your tongue. Like actually bite your tongue.

Don’t say shit Y/N.

Don't say anything.

It’s not your business. What they have together and what’s between you and Adaline are completely separate, unrelated things. One’s a rivalry and one's a relationship. Those are not the same.

At. All.

So, still untrusting of your mouth, you shake your head and dodge his question by changing the direction of the conversation.

“Why did you go public so quickly?” you ask, feeling like it’s the safest question you can muster. “It’s literally only been two days.”

He shrugs. “She wanted to, and I didn’t say no.”

“Courseshedid,” you mutter under your breath. That should’ve been red flag number one. Two days? Who goes social media official after two days!?

“What?”

“Nothing,” you try your best to give him the closest thing to a smile you can currently muster, forcibly removing any acid from every word. “I hope she makes you happy.”

He doesn’t tell you she was hand picked by the king for him.

That at twenty-four, he still isn’t pulling all of his own strings. It’s pathetic.

“Me too.”

He hopes she’ll help more than anything. Even if it’s just for a little while. “I’ve never been in a public relationship before. But the kingdom and my father seem to like her, so I’m sure I will too, with time.”

It takes all of your focus not to roll your eyes.

Of course they do. Of course the King already likes her, she’s got the attitude and knowledge for politics, so she’s perfect! Strong potential to be the heartless, ruthless Queen to what you already know will be Jungkook's kind and giving King.

Great! Just great. That’s just…great…

Maybe you’re biased. Maybe there’s something in her that you can’t see because of your past with her.

Maybe they really are perfect for one another and you just refuse to see it. Opposites attract, isn’t that what they say? Well Jungkook and Adaline couldn’t be more opposite of one another.

So you decide that you won’t let your personal feelings get in the way. That you’ll keep the peace and support his choice, regardless of your opinion of her, even if you hate his choice.

And you really hate his choice.

“I have no doubt.”

The seat heater in the car you rented to pick Nel up from the airport keeps your tush toasty while you drive.

Friday night has never felt so exciting!

You can barely sit still, the leg not pressing the pedals won’t stop bouncing and you have to sit on your hands at stop lights to try and keep calm.

God you missed him, it's only been two months since you last saw him, and yet it feels like forever.

You have the piece of printer paper with ‘Smoosh’ printed on it in the biggest font you could have horizontally. It’s something you do every year, and every year it never fails to bring the biggest smile to Nel’s face when you wave it wildly the second you see him.

Pulling up to the terminal you keep your eyes peeled for the first parking spot you can find. Never an easy feat at this particular airport but you manage to find one somewhere in the J lot under section 1, whatever that meant. All you care about right now is that you’re decently close to the doors as you grab your phone, bag, sign, and that you’re perfectly on time.

Entering through sliding doors, you find the waiting area mostly empty, so you pick the best place to sit as you wait for his flight to land: dead center and up front.

You can’t wait. Just a few more minutes and you’ll see him.

You can’t wait. You can’t wait. You can't wait!

Your phone dings and you jump at it, looking for the ‘I’ve landed’ text from Nel, but it’s not from Nel.

It’s from Jungkook.

Me [10:42pm]: See you in a week. I hope you enjoy your time with Nel.

That sounds okay, right? It sounds neutral? Safe?

Like he hasn’t been dreading this week since that day you told him about it?

Jungkook hopes so. Because he wants you to enjoy your week off.

Your week off with Nel.

And not him.

That’s normal, he has to remind himself. That he’s not anyone particularly special to you, just a friend. Not someone you would go out of your way for to spend all your free time with over break. Not even for two hours on Sunday nights.

Just a regular, average, nothing important about him…

Friend.

He doesn’t want to feel like this. Doesn’t want to have all of these… whatever these feelings are, about and for you.

He really doesn’t want to. But more than that, he can’t.

He can’t have any sort of non-platonic feelings for the first person who didn’t give a shit about who he was. For the person who makes him feel more like himself than anyone else.

For the person who has a boyfriend.

For the person who isn’t his girlfriend.

For the person who’s you.

But he can’t fucking help it!

So he’s been shoving them down, down, down. So far down that he’s able to function around you.

Because it’s you.

You’re kind, and caring. Talented, beautiful, giving. Driven, smart. You respect what he asks for and what he wants for himself, not because he's the Prince demanding, but because it's him—because it’s Jungkook—that asks you, and you liste–

No! Stop it. He can’t. He can’t!

Stop, stop, stop—

You have Nel! 5 years in, loving, loyal boyfriend, probably soon to be more after graduation, Nel.

It’s expected that you would spend what little time off you have with the boyfriend you barely get to see, wouldn’t it? Makes sense that every second you have, is saved for him?

For being happy with who makes you happy?

Jungkook wants to see you happy. And Nel makes you happier than he’s ever seen you before, so he can’t be too upset with the guy, even though he wants to be. He wants to hate him. But how could he hate someone that gave you the smile that completely shatters his heart.

Picasso [10:43pm]: Thanks! I will. See you soon😊

With a broken smile, he turns his phone off and puts it in his pocket.

He’s up against a wall, red cup in his hand filled with something that he’s barely touched yet, trying not to be too noticeable.

Adaline’s dragged him to some party on campus he really doesn't care about. But she said it would be good to be seen out together now that things are official.

Out in the open, for everyone to see. For everyone to talk about.

So he went, because she asked him to.

And now he’s regretting it. The music is shit, the people smell and everything he touches is damp or sweaty. This isn’t a part of the university experience he ever intended on participating in, but here he is.

Adaline appears from the crowd, walking over to where he stands, a cup of her own in one hand and the other finding its way to his neck.

One thing Jungkook’s glad for is the alcohol. Something to help his racing thoughts, pounding heart, and roiling gut. Something to drown out the world. Even if he’s only had two gulps so far.

More, then.

Taking a hefty swig he revels in the burn that crawls down his throat. It feels good, it makes him feel less. So he takes another one and another, and then pours his turmoiled feelings about you and Nel into Adaline’s lips. Shoving them down, further and further, until it’s like they were never even there in the first place.

The only thing that's there now is the fire in his stomach, Adaline, and her cherry flavoured lip gloss.

Chapter Six: Eastern Arrivals and Unwanted Doubt

A/N 2: I'm so sorry this took for literal ever. I never intend on taking forever but unfortunately real life gets in the way and I'm left with no creative energy to output writing I'm proud of.

A/N 3: As always, Thank you for reading, loves. Xoxo - Yoon <3

<- Back

#I'll respond to the others tomorrow and friday!!#I unfortunately have adult tasks like laundry and dishes and dinner making that take up way too much valuabe tumblr responding time #being a grown up sucks dude #THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS I CANNOT STRESS THAT ENOUGH #you're a big part of why the fic community stays alive #reviews #TWWWBAATTA reviews #Shocking Announcements and Camouflaged Explanations #moonchild1 #kiki my love <3 #the kindest of souls #if you see typos no you dont

373 notes · View notes

amesul · 3 days ago

Text

favorite nerd; c.clark ❥₊ ⊹

“you look cute,” the compliment towards your girlfriend impacted the corners of her mouth to lift, giving you a view of how white and shiny her teeth were as she showered you with more compliments.

that only made you laugh and admire her face features that had quickly returned to her teammates, lexie hull and aliyah boston. chatting about the next season and how caitlin would feel as a vet soon.

u saw the way the not so new glasses, that she had boughten just three months ago apt her appearance, only making her look like a nerd.

yet, you couldn’t help urself but feel your entrance leak a little when caitlin slowly bit her bottom lip, listening to aliyah’s comments before nodding her head and making a funny reply, earning a giggle from you.

u never knew you would have a kink to see her in glasses, but is it ur fault? it didn’t feel like ur fault when her other teammates had called her beautiful with glasses on and that it suited her, which had of course made you envious.

it was like she read your mind because her hands flew to ur right thigh, scratching the surface softly as she continued on with her conversation.

tho, u wanted her hair to meet your own for a kiss, and maybe more than that.

“caitlin,” you whispered low the best you could, trying to succeed in getting her heed, ur hand wandering off inside her hair, scraping a bit of her scalp that had suddenly caused caitlin to sigh in relief.

“mh’ yeah, baby?” she asked, twisting her head to you for a split second, flashing you a smile before returning it to lexie who had made a joke.

u couldn’t debate whether you should tell her because it was truly embarrassing. you got soaked over a pair of glasses on the wnba’s roty along with time’s aoty.

if that doesn’t speak on how sensitive you are, then who knows.

u tugged at her puff jacket, hugging the epic knit jacket underneath, which just made her look even hotter in ur opinion. especially with how her perfectly straightened hair fell.

“can we go home?” you trailed off with a knowing tone, giving her the puppy eyes hoping she would notice but she didn’t, only replying with a small, “why?” already turned to her teammates.

it was starting to make you feel irritating, the conversation caitlin was having with lexie and aliyah surely shouldn’t be as interesting.

you didn’t want to get jealous, there was no need for that, you knew lexie and aliyah had a good friendship with caitlin, so you shouldn’t feel envious.

“i just wanna go right now ‘s all” you mumbled, moving a strand of hair behind her ear slowly, scrutinizing her side profile.

caitlin finally twisted her attention on you, taking notice of the way ur breathing slowed down and the frown u gifted her.

“what’s wrong, sweetheart?” she questioned, wondering if you had gotten ill.

you responded by grasping her veiny hand, subtly slipping it under the waistband on ur shorts, trailing it down to ur throbbing pussy that needed the touch no one could ever give like her.

she met your doe eyes, the sly dimple appearing above her left cheek, her smirk only growing as she saw u close ur eyes, letting her hand pinch ur clit under the table.

“care to explain?” she asked softly, taking a choice and letting two fingers escape from the fabric, hiding and folding in between ur labia.

u immediately took a deep breath, trying to calm down, only getting harder to do so when caitlin was nearly tickling ur g-spot with a flow you loved every time.

“i- um.. caitlin.” you moaned as low as you could, lexie and aliyah almost forgotten when caitlin’s fingertips glided swiftly on ur bundle of nerves, meeting caitlin’s eyes — only to see her now nodding at whatever lexie was saying.

and you? you felt like you were already gonna release.

u wanted her to look at you, look at the way she was making you struggle, so there was no better way than to try and stop her movements.

check. it worked.

her furrowed brows only grew as she saw ur pout, “look at me,” you whispered, “please.”

u examined the way her eyes drew you in, lust written all over her orbs as she slowly continued, “i can’t, darling.” mumbling, signaling over to her teammates that were in a conversations themselves now, and to make it more risky, you both were sitting in front of them.

“take me home th-then, fuck you—why are you doing this knowing we-“ you cut urself off before you could let out a scream, three fingers pressing hard against ur g-spot suddenly.

“but i love seeing you suffer, sweets” now she pouted, hinting a smile to indicate it was also a joke, yet it was hard for you to laugh when her fingers found home inside ur dripping entrance.

“you still didn’t answer my question, y’know,” she reminded you, and u quickly blushed, embarrassment taking over you at the thought of getting turned on from seeing ur girlfriend with glasses on.

“just.. flashbacks,” you tried to mask it with a fake answer, hard to admit but also hard because her fingers were still rocking against ur bud.

caitlin wasn’t stupid, she knew you better than anyone.

she saw that lie more than she should’ve, humming softly as lexie asked her something, but she took no action in talking to her as she dipped her fingers deeper into ur slippery walls.

she cocked her brow, “i know you better than to lie, princess,” and with the tone, the eyeing, the easy demeanor had some type of courage to tell her what it actually was.

you didn’t wanna keep anything from her, especially because all of this happened because of her.

“your.. f-fuck, your glasses,” you confessed, the knot in ur stomach building up as her fingers started a rapid pace around ur bundle of nerves, eye contact helping you chase the strong catharsis.

“mm’ really?” caitlin asked, almost to herself before smiling and shaking her head, turning her head to aliyah who suddenly asked her something too, still trying not to risk the moment and get caught, but she felt the want to get caught and let her teammates know how she was making you feel.

you on the other hand, felt like the world was caving in, the adrenaline rushing through you, but also having all of ur blood rush to ur brain as pre cum started to seep out, clenching around her fingers as you tried everything in you to hold it in, failing almost immediately as you quickly bit ur lip so hard you knew blood would appear, but you didn’t care.

the moan that slipped out was incredibly unnoticed by the two teammates, but the small wet patch that went through the shorts was surely to be noticed.

you felt proud, you didn’t know you could get away with releasing in public, the only thing that you couldn’t get away with was caitlin’s fingers still flicking against ur g-spot.

“and that’s our cue to go, we’ll see you later guys, it was very nice to have the opportunity to talk about this particular topic, love ya’ll.” caitlin quickly dismissed the both of you, feeling ur cum all over her hand was enough for her to make you want to cum all over her strap.

“alright, we’ll catch up later!” lexie exclaimed, the both waving at the couple, oblivious on your panting and the athlete concentrated on whatever she was thinking of.

as soon as you both got in the car, caitlin’s lips latched onto yours, “my glasses, huh?”

an. the glasses on her. that’s all i have to say.

115 notes · View notes

concretejunglefm · 2 days ago

Text

Obsession.

Have you ever craved somebody so much that you literally ache?

Summary: Ever since Noah first laid eyes on you, you’ve been the object of his desires and occupied his thoughts. However, there’s one catch—you’re Jolly’s girlfriend.

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x f!reader (Jolly's girlfriend) with mentions of Jolly Karlsson.

CW: Heavy pining and slight patheticness from Noah.

AN: The timeline and progress of this little story may be skewed, and there’s definitely an unreliable narrator in the form of Noah.

Dividers: Silent-stories.

Noah can’t stop thinking about you. Since Jolly introduced you as his new girlfriend, you’ve been the only thing on his mind.

There should’ve been some guilt for this, especially when his thoughts about you turned to lust, leading him to fantasize about you and give in to his urges, where he would say your name like a prayer every time he came over his hand and stomach. Even when you were just meters away in the next room, completely unaware of his actions.

It didn’t start that way, though. Initially, everything had been innocent. You were kind, funny, and pretty in a way that made everyone joke that you were too good for Jolly. However, Noah was aware that you were too good for him.

During late summer, when the guys all decided to have a last-minute barbecue, Jolly chose that time to introduce you.

Noah was aware that he'd been seeing someone, but he didn’t realize how serious it was until he brought you around, eager to show you off like a new trophy. Admittedly, Noah felt a twinge of envy the first time he laid eyes on you.

“And this is Noah,” Jolly breaks the ice, introducing you. Noah offers a timid wave, already feeling the nerves fluttering as he was in your presence. “He’s also my roommate, so you’ll be seeing his pretty face around quite a bit.”

Noah’s eyes flicker to Jolly and widen with a ‘what the fuck’ type of expression, but the moment you let out a laugh, his eyes fall back onto you, completely captivated by such a beautiful sound. Now all he wants is to hear you laugh again, even if it comes at his own expense.

As the party progresses, everyone starts to mingle and unwind in the relaxed atmosphere. Meanwhile, Noah has become preoccupied with overthinking how to initiate a simple conversation with you. He is so caught up in his own thoughts that he is startled when you finally break the ice.

“That’s a cool tattoo.”

He glances down to his thigh, where you had gestured to one of his favorite tattoo designs peeking out from beneath his shorts. “Oh, that? Yeah, it’s pretty cool.” He pulls up the end of his shorts, revealing the full Itachi design, standing up slightly as he tries to show it off to you.

“So cool,” he hears you murmuring as you lean down to fully examine the design. Having you so close to him makes his head dizzy and his heart race.

He quickly fumbles over his words, trying tries his best to prevent himself from being overwhelmed by the thoughts that are rapidly entering his mind. “It's from my favorite anime, Naruto. Have you ever heard of it?” He barely takes a breath before pulling his short leg back down and settling into the garden chair once more.

As he rattles off random facts and Easter eggs about the show, he can’t help but feel slightly self-conscious. Even as he hears himself, he wants to stop, but your soft smile and nodding in response has him continuing. Somehow, your attentive listening makes him feel compelled to keep going, his lisp occasionally slipping through, causing him to stumble further over his words.

As he finally catches his breath, you speak, “Oh, so is that Naruto?” You point down to his thigh.

If it weren’t you, he would likely have lectured the person asking, about the difference, but instead, he simply laughs and shakes his head. “No, that’s Itachi.”

“What can you tell me about him?” You ask.

Noah can't tell whether you’re genuinely interested in knowing more or not. However, before he can continue, Jolly intervenes, sweeping a hand across your shoulders while glancing down between you both.

“Don’t get him started on his anime shows; he’ll never stop talking about them.” The Swede chuckles, and you join in, as does Noah in a manner which feels forced because that comment makes him feel inferior and like Jolly's mocking his interests.

Noah knows that he’s not. Jolly never says anything with a malicious intent. Nevertheless, he can’t help but feel slighted by it, especially when Jolly invites you to come inside with him, and you bid them all a; “It was nice to meet you all.”

And it was, nice to meet you.

That was six months ago, and somehow, you’re still stuck in Noah’s system. He’s tried dating, hooking up with random girls, and even the occasional girl he knows, but nothing seems to extinguish the flame he holds for you or satisfy the gnawing need he feels for you.

His inability to perform in those moments also brought any attempt to move on from you to an abrupt halt.

And you accompanying the band on tour only intensified Noah’s longing for you.

Instead of being able to hide out in his room or leave the house, he was forced to spend the duration of the tour with you. If you weren’t in the sound booth, you were at the side of the stage, watching them perform. If you were staying at the hotel with them, you shared a room with Jolly, which always conveniently seemed to be next to Noah’s own.

This proximity to you drove him crazy, and it was his reasoning for sneaking into your room one day, just to get himself off over the smell of you still lingering on your sleep shorts—the same pair that he held onto for the rest of your time on tour before they conveniently reappeared in the laundry when you returned home.

Being back has only continued to worsen the situation, especially since you’ve been staying over more frequently than ever. Although Jolly hasn’t officially declared it, you’ve essentially moved in. You spend more nights over than you don’t, and when Jolly isn’t home, you spend your free time with Noah.

While Noah enjoys and savors these moments, it's still not enough, he still needs and craves more from you. He’s becoming desperate, seeking ways to spend time alone with you that are inconspicuous enough to capture your attention and possibly even your affection, without it becoming too evident what he’s seeking from you.

Tagged: @fadingangelwisp @deathblacksmoke @geminigirlfromfinland @fuck1ng-queen @xxkittenkissesxx @lacy1986 @ami--gami @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @blade-dressed-in-red @bloody-spades @halfalgorithmhafdeity @dominuslunae @tosoundlessdarkistare @xmads-omensx @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @lonelydragonlady @th4t-em0-k1d @amelia-acero

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian x reader #concretejunglefm fics #joakim jolly karlsson fanfiction #joakim karlsson x reader

84 notes · View notes

thequeenofneverland1 · 2 days ago

Text

Minho Moon////Love in the Little Things

Anonymous request: hey can you a angst but a happy ending of Minho from xo kitty pls thank you

Warnings: fluff, humor, Romantic themes, lighthearted drama and mild jealousy

You’ve had a crush on Minho for as long as you can remember. He’s charming, funny, and always lights up the room when he walks in. But there’s just one problem. he only has eyes for Kitty. No matter how hard you try to get his attention, it’s clear that his heart belongs to someone else.

At first, you tried to ignore the ache in your chest every time you saw them together. You told yourself that maybe, just maybe, he would notice you one day. But as time passed, it became painfully obvious that Minho would never see you the way you saw him. And that realization shattered you.

You spent weeks sulking, avoiding him in the hallways, and dodging any conversation that involved his name. Your friends told you to move on, but how could you? He was Minho the one who made your heart race with just a smile.

Then, everything changed.

A new student transferred to your school Lee Joon. The moment he stepped into the classroom, he caught everyone’s attention. Tall, effortlessly cool, and with a confidence that made people gravitate toward him, he was impossible to ignore. But what surprised you the most was that, out of all the people he could have talked to, he chose you.

At first, you didn’t think much of it. Maybe he was just being nice. But the way he looked at you, the way he seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say, made your heart do something it hadn’t done in a long time it fluttered.

Days turned into weeks, and Lee Joon became a constant presence in your life. He made you laugh when you thought you’d forgotten how. He noticed the little things about you how you always tapped your pen when you were nervous or how your favorite subject was literature because you loved stories that made you feel something.

And one day, as you were walking together after school, he stopped and looked at you with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

“You know,” he said, tilting his head slightly, “I think Minho was an idiot for not seeing you.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

For the first time in a long while, Minho didn’t seem to matter anymore. Maybe, just maybe, you were finally ready to move on. And with Lee Joon by your side, it didn’t seem so impossible.

It was a perfect afternoon warm sunlight streaming through the trees as you and Lee Joon sat on a bench near the school courtyard. You were laughing at something he said, a joke that wasn’t even that funny, but for some reason, everything seemed lighter around him. You didn’t feel the weight of unrequited love pressing on your chest anymore. With Lee Joon, it was easy, effortless.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, but you barely noticed, too caught up in the moment. You ignored it the first time. Then, it buzzed again. And again.

Lee Joon glanced at you. “Someone’s persistent.”

You pulled out your phone and glanced at the screen. Minho.

For a brief second, something in your chest tightened, but you quickly shook it off. What could he possibly want? Maybe he needed something, but whatever it was, it wasn’t urgent enough for you to pull away from this moment.

Without hesitation, you silenced the call and slipped the phone back into your pocket.

Lee Joon raised an eyebrow, amused. “Not gonna answer?”

You shrugged. “Not important.”

He smirked, leaning back against the bench. “Well, then, more of your attention for me.”

You laughed, pushing Minho further from your mind.

Little did you know, you had forgotten something important plans you made with Minho days ago.

Minho sat at the café, checking his phone every few minutes, frustration slowly turning into disappointment. You were supposed to meet him here. He even got there early, ordering your favorite drink just the way you liked it. But the minutes ticked by, and there was no sign of you.

At first, he thought maybe you were running late. Then, after the third unanswered call, he started to wonder.

Had you forgotten?

The thought made his stomach twist in a way he didn’t quite understand. You always showed up when he needed you, always answered his calls, always made time for him. But today… you didn’t.

His fingers tightened around his phone as he stared at your last message, confirming the plans. He had been so sure you’d come.

So why did it feel like, for the first time, he wasn’t the one you were waiting around for?

Minho sighed, tapping his fingers against the table as he stared at his phone screen. The message was still unread.

Minho: Hey, where are you? (Delivered, no response.)

He waited, watching the little “delivered” notification sit there, unmoving. Maybe you were just busy. Maybe your phone was on silent. Maybe—

No.

Something felt different.

Minho wasn’t used to waiting on you. If anything, you were always the one waiting for him waiting for his texts, his calls, his time. And now, for the first time, the roles were reversed. And he hated it.

He exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair, gripping the iced coffee he had ordered for you now watered down from sitting too long. He should be annoyed. Maybe even a little angry. But the uneasy feeling in his chest wasn’t anger. It was something else.

He tried again.

Minho: Did you forget?

Still no response.

He stared at the message for a moment before locking his phone and shoving it into his pocket. His jaw clenched as he glanced around the café, realizing that people were starting to stare at the guy sitting alone with two drinks.

It wasn’t like you to ghost him. Sure, maybe you were busy, but you would have at least texted back, right?

Unless… you really had forgotten.

Minho couldn’t take it anymore. The café, once filled with comforting warmth and the hum of conversation, now felt suffocating. He had been sitting there for nearly an hour, his untouched drink melting into a watered-down mess. You weren’t coming. And you weren’t answering.

Shoving his chair back, he stood up abruptly, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stormed out. His mind raced with thoughts, each one more frustrating than the last. Were you ignoring him on purpose? Had something happened? Or… were you just with someone else?

That thought made his chest tighten in a way he didn’t like.

As he walked down the sidewalk, his eyes were locked on his phone, waiting for any sign of a response. He wasn’t even paying attention to where he was going until—

Thud.

He bumped into someone, nearly making them drop the books in their arms.

“Oh—Minho?”

He looked up, recognizing the familiar face immediately. “Kitty.”

She adjusted her books, giving him a curious look. “What’s up? You look kind of… stressed.”

Minho exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I was supposed to meet Y/N, but she never showed up. She’s not answering my calls or texts either.”

Kitty raised an eyebrow. “Really? That’s weird.”

“Right?” Minho huffed. “I don’t get it. She’s never just… ignored me before.”

Kitty studied him for a second before casually saying, “Well, I literally just saw her.”

Minho’s head snapped up. “You did?”

“Yeah,” Kitty said, shifting her books to one arm. “She was with Lee Joon.”

The name hit Minho like a brick to the chest.

Lee Joon.

That new transfer student. The one who had suddenly appeared and, apparently, had stolen all of your attention.

Kitty must have noticed the shift in his expression because she tilted her head. “Why? Something wrong?”

Minho’s jaw clenched. He didn’t know what to say. Of course something was wrong. You were supposed to be with him today, not Lee Joon. You were supposed to answer his calls, not ignore them for someone else.

But why did it even matter so much? Why was he suddenly so bothered by the idea of you with someone else?

He swallowed hard, forcing his voice to stay even. “No. Nothing’s wrong.”

But as he turned away, he knew that was a lie. Something was definitely wrong. And for the first time, Minho wasn’t sure he liked the way it felt.

Minho lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind replaying everything over and over again. The unanswered texts, the forgotten plans, Kitty’s words—“She was with Lee Joon.”

It didn’t make sense. You weren’t the type to flake on him, especially not without saying anything. And yet, here he was laying alone in his room when he was supposed to be…

The diner was bustling with the hum of conversations and the clinking of silverware against plates. Neon lights flickered outside the window, casting a soft glow over your booth. Minho sat across from you, Kitty next to him, but your attention was entirely elsewhere on Lee Joon, who sat beside you, smiling warmly as he slid a milkshake between the two of you.

"Two straws, one milkshake," Lee Joon teased with a playful grin. "Very old-school romance, don’t you think?"

You laughed, leaning closer to sip from your straw. "I think it’s perfect," you said, eyes sparkling as you met his gaze.

Minho's chest tightened as he watched the exchange, his words faltering mid-sentence. He had been talking about some random story from school, trying to keep the mood light, but it was clear you weren’t listening. Not even a little.

Kitty, sitting beside him, noticed the way his jaw clenched and the flicker of hurt in his eyes. She nudged him lightly with her elbow. "You okay?" she whispered.

Minho forced a tight smile. "Yeah. Totally fine."

But he wasn’t fine. Not even close.

He tried to ignore the way your laugh filled the space between you and Lee Joon, the way you leaned into him as if the rest of the world didn’t exist. It was like he was invisible reduced to just another background character in a scene where you and Lee Joon were the main act.

"So, Y/n," Minho said, trying to cut through the tension gnawing at his chest, "did you finish that project for science class?"

You glanced at him briefly, a polite smile on your lips. "Oh, yeah. Lee Joon helped me with it. He’s really good at that stuff."

Lee Joon chuckled modestly. "It wasn’t a big deal. Y/n did most of the work."

Minho's stomach churned. He used to be the one you came to for help with assignments, the one who made you laugh over ridiculous study sessions. Now, it was Lee Joon in that role, effortlessly slipping into a space that had always been Minho's.

"Cool," Minho said flatly, stirring his untouched drink.

Kitty shot him a sympathetic glance, but Minho couldn’t meet her eyes. Instead, he watched as you leaned closer to Lee Joon, your conversation flowing effortlessly. The two of you were in your own world, completely oblivious to the storm brewing inside Minho.

"Hey," Lee Joon said, his voice warm, "you’ve got whipped cream on your nose."

You laughed, wiping it away with the back of your hand. "Classic me."

"You’re adorable," Lee Joon said softly, and your cheeks flushed at the compliment.

Minho's grip tightened around his glass, his heart pounding with a mixture of jealousy and hurt. He didn’t want to feel this way, but seeing you with someone else so happy, so carefree was like a punch to the gut.

Kitty cleared her throat, trying to break the awkwardness. "So, uh, Minho, you were saying something about that crazy teacher?"

Minho forced a laugh, though it sounded hollow even to his own ears. "Yeah, doesn’t matter," he muttered, his appetite gone.

As the evening dragged on, Minho sat there, watching the girl he had always thought of as his—his best friend, his constant slip further away, lost in someone else’s orbit. And for the first time, he wondered if it was already too late to pull you back.

Minho had always been the kind of person who carried himself with confidence. He was loud when he wanted to be, always cracking jokes, always had a smirk on his face like nothing in the world could bother him.

But lately, something had changed.

And his parents noticed.

It started with little things. He barely touched his food at dinner, pushing it around on his plate instead of eating. He wasn’t complaining about his mom’s overly healthy meals like he usually did. He didn’t argue with his dad over what to watch on TV. He wasn’t even making sarcastic remarks about his mom’s drama shows, something he usually did just to get a reaction.

Instead, he just… sat there. Quiet. Lost in thought.

Then, he stopped staying out late.

Minho was always out with his friends, always coming home late with some new story to tell. But now? He was coming straight home from school, shutting himself in his room, barely saying a word.

His mom noticed first.

One evening, as she was setting the table for dinner, she glanced over at him, watching as he scrolled through his phone, a deep frown etched onto his face. He wasn’t even really looking at the screen just staring at it, lost in whatever thoughts were eating away at him.

She set the last plate down and sighed. “Minho.”

He barely reacted. “Hmm?”

His mom crossed her arms, leaning against the counter. “What’s going on with you?”

That got his attention. He looked up, eyebrows furrowing. “What?”

“You’ve been acting… off,” she said, tilting her head. “You’re quiet, you barely eat, you don’t go out as much. It’s like you’re not even you lately.”

Minho scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “I’m fine.”

His dad, who had been reading the newspaper, finally looked up. “You don’t look fine.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “I didn’t realize I had to put on a performance at home.”

His mom sighed, walking over to sit beside him. Her voice softened. “Minho, we’re just worried about you. Did something happen?”

Minho’s jaw tightened. He wanted to brush it off, to say something sarcastic, to make a joke and move on. That’s what he always did.

But for some reason, the words wouldn’t come out.

Because, for the first time in a long time, he didn’t know what to say.

What was he supposed to tell them? That he had been too blind to realize he was losing someone important? That he had spent so long believing you would always be there, only to realize that maybe, just maybe, you were slipping away?

That he had never considered what it would feel like to lose you until now?

Minho swallowed hard and forced a smirk. “I’m fine, Mom. Seriously. Just tired.”

His mom didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push. Instead, she just patted his arm before standing up.

“Okay,” she said simply. “But if you ever want to talk about it, we’re here.”

Minho just nodded, offering her a small, forced smile.

But as he sat there, poking at the food on his plate, he couldn’t shake the feeling in his chest.

Because deep down, he knew the truth.

He wasn’t fine. Not even close.

Later that night, Minho lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, the glow of his phone screen casting a dim light across his face. He wasn’t even doing anything just mindlessly scrolling, opening and closing the same apps, checking messages he had no intention of responding to.

Still no text from you.

Not that he was waiting or anything.

He let out a slow breath, tossing his phone onto the nightstand before draping an arm over his eyes. His mind was a mess thoughts tangled up in frustration, confusion, and something else he didn’t want to name.

A soft knock at his door made him sigh. “Mom, I already told you—”

“It’s not your mom.”

Minho sat up slightly as his dad pushed the door open, stepping inside. His dad wasn’t the kind of guy who barged into his room often. Usually, he let Minho do his own thing, never prying too much.

Which meant that if he was here now, it was serious.

His dad glanced around the room before settling his gaze on Minho. “You didn’t finish dinner.”

Minho shrugged. “Wasn’t hungry.”

His dad hummed, shutting the door behind him as he walked over and took a seat on the chair by the desk. “Your mom thinks something’s wrong.”

Minho huffed, flopping back against his pillows. “Mom always thinks something’s wrong.”

His dad chuckled. “Yeah, well… this time, I think she might be right.”

Minho’s fingers curled around the blanket. He could feel his dad’s eyes on him, waiting for him to say something. To admit something.

But he didn’t even know where to start.

His dad sighed, leaning forward slightly. “Listen… I know I’m not the guy you usually come to for this kind of stuff.”

Minho rolled onto his side, staring at the wall. “There’s nothing to come to you about.”

His dad didn’t respond right away. Instead, he just studied Minho for a long moment, like he was trying to piece together a puzzle. Then, in a softer voice, he asked,

“Is it about a girl?”

Minho’s breath hitched.

He didn’t answer. But the way his shoulders tensed just for a second was enough of a confirmation.

His dad nodded slowly, like everything was suddenly making sense. “Ah.”

Minho groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “It’s not—”

“You know,” his dad cut in, leaning back in the chair, “when I was your age, there was this girl I really liked.”

Minho peeked at him from the corner of his eye. “Is this where you tell me some long, dramatic love story about how you met Mom?”

His dad smirked. “No, actually. It wasn’t your mom.”

That got Minho’s attention. He turned fully to face him. “Wait. What?”

His dad chuckled. “Before I met your mom, there was someone else. She was my best friend. We did everything together. I thought we’d always be like that just us, against the world.”

Minho swallowed hard, his chest tightening.

“But then one day,” his dad continued, his voice softer now, “she started spending more time with someone else. And suddenly, I wasn’t the person she turned to anymore. I wasn’t the one making her laugh the hardest or sharing secrets late at night.”

Minho stayed quiet. He didn’t need to hear the rest of the story to know how it ended.

His dad sighed, rubbing his hands together. “I didn’t realize how much I cared about her until it was too late.” Then he looked at Minho, eyes steady. “Don’t make the same mistake I did.”

Minho’s throat felt tight.

Because suddenly, he wasn’t thinking about his dad’s story anymore.

He was thinking about you.

The way you used to wait for him after class. The way your eyes always lit up when he walked into a room. The way you used to choose him without hesitation, without a second thought.

And now?

Now you were looking at Lee Joon that way. you were sharing your time, your moments, your jokes with someone else.

And for the first time, Minho felt like he was standing on the outside of your world, looking in.

His dad patted his knee before standing up. “Think about it, kid.”

Then, just like that, he left, shutting the door behind him.

Minho sat there in silence, staring at the ceiling.

And for the first time, he allowed himself to admit the one thing he had been avoiding this whole time.

He didn’t just care about you.

He didn’t just see you as a friend.

He liked you.

And maybe just maybe he was too late.

The next morning, Minho barely said a word at breakfast. His mom was chatting about something on TV, and his dad was flipping through the newspaper, but Minho’s mind was somewhere else entirely.

He couldn’t stop thinking about what his dad had said last night.

“I didn’t realize how much I cared about her until it was too late. Don’t make the same mistake I did.”

It kept replaying in his head, over and over, until he wanted to scream.

Was it too late for him? Had he already lost you?

He had spent so long pretending not to care, pushing down feelings he didn’t want to deal with. But now, it was all hitting him at once, and it was suffocating.

His leg bounced under the table as he stared at his plate, barely touching his food. He needed to do something. Say something. But where did he even start?

“Minho.”

He blinked, snapping out of his thoughts as he looked up. His dad was staring at him knowingly from across the table.

“Come with me,” his dad said, setting down the newspaper and pushing back his chair.

Minho frowned, confused, but stood up anyway. His mom barely glanced up from her show as his dad led him down the hall and into his office.

Once inside, his dad walked over to his desk, pulled open a drawer, and grabbed his wallet. He took out a few bills and held them out to Minho.

Minho stared at him. “Uh… what’s this?”

His dad gave him a pointed look. “Money.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Minho scoffed. “Why are you giving it to me?”

His dad sighed, placing the money in Minho’s hand before closing his fingers around it.

“Go buy some flowers. And chocolates. Or whatever it is girls like these days.”

Minho’s eyes widened. “What—”

His dad raised an eyebrow. “You want to win her back, don’t you?”

Minho hesitated, staring down at the money in his hand. He hadn’t even said anything about you, but somehow, his dad knew.

Did he really look that obvious?

“I…” Minho swallowed, shifting on his feet. “What if it doesn’t work?”

His dad gave him a small, knowing smile. “Then at least you’ll know you tried.”

Minho stared at him for a moment before sighing, stuffing the money into his pocket.

“Fine,” he muttered. “But if this goes horribly wrong, I’m blaming you.”

His dad smirked. “That’s fair.”

With that, Minho turned on his heel and walked out of the office, his heart pounding harder than he wanted to admit.

Because for the first time, he wasn’t just thinking about his feelings.

He was about to do something about them.

Minho stood outside Kitty’s dorm, shifting from foot to foot as he debated whether knocking was a good idea. He wasn’t the type to ask for help, let alone from Kitty, who had an annoying habit of knowing things before he was even ready to admit them to himself.

But this? This was different.

This wasn’t something he could handle on his own.

He took a deep breath and knocked twice.

A few seconds later, the door swung open, revealing Kitty in her usual oversized hoodie and pajama shorts, her hair tied in a messy bun. She blinked up at him, clearly not expecting to see him standing there.

“Minho?” she said, tilting her head. “Are you lost?”

Minho rolled his eyes. “No, I’m not lost.”

Kitty leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms. “Then why are you standing outside my room looking like you’re about to throw up?”

Minho groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. “Can I come in or not?”

Kitty narrowed her eyes, studying him for a moment before sighing and stepping aside. “Fine. But if this is about getting me to watch another one of your boring dramas, the answer is no.”

Minho ignored her and stepped inside, shoving his hands into his pockets. The room was a little messy clothes scattered on the bed, notebooks open on the desk but it was exactly what he expected from Kitty.

She plopped onto her bed, crossing her legs. “Okay, spill. What’s going on?”

Minho hesitated, looking at the floor. He wasn’t used to being this vulnerable, especially with Kitty, who would probably never let him live it down. But he was desperate, and if there was one person who knew how to fix things, it was her.

“I need your help,” he muttered.

Kitty’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me? Did Minho just say he needs my help?”

Minho groaned. “Do you want to help me or not?”

Kitty smirked, sitting up straighter. “Depends. What’s it about?”

Minho exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “It’s about Y/N.”

At that, Kitty’s entire expression shifted. The teasing look faded, replaced by something more serious something that told him she already knew what this was about.

“What about Y/N?” she asked, her voice softer now.

Minho hesitated, but there was no point in pretending anymore.

“I…” He clenched his jaw before sighing. “I think I screwed up.”

Kitty hummed, as if she wasn’t even remotely surprised. “Yeah, no kidding.”

Minho shot her a glare. “Can you not?”

She held up her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. Keep going.”

Minho shifted on his feet, suddenly feeling restless. “I don’t know when it happened, but… I like her.” The words felt foreign on his tongue, but once they were out, he couldn’t take them back. “And now she’s spending all her time with Lee Joon, and I feel like—” He exhaled sharply. “I feel like I lost her before I even got a chance.”

Kitty watched him carefully, nodding along. “So, what do you want to do about it?”

Minho pulled the money from his pocket, holding it up. “Dad told me to buy flowers and chocolates.”

Kitty snorted. “Classic.”

Minho glared at her. “Are you gonna help me or not?”

Kitty grinned. “Oh, I’m definitely helping. But if you’re gonna do this, you can’t half-ass it.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “I never half-ass anything.”

Kitty smirked. “Good. Because if we’re winning Y/N back, we’re going all out.”

Minho felt his stomach twist. This was really happening.

He was about to fight for you.

The sun was beginning to set over the park, casting a warm orange glow over the trees and pathways. A soft breeze rustled the leaves, carrying the faint scent of flowers in the air. It was the perfect setting for something romantic something grand.

At least, that’s what Kitty had convinced Minho.

He had spent the last hour carefully placing a trail of red roses along the park’s winding path, each one leading to the small bench where he was waiting. A box of expensive chocolates sat beside him, tied with a neat satin ribbon.

He was nervous, but he had convinced himself you would come. Kitty promised she would make sure of it.

So he waited.

And waited.

But as the minutes stretched on, his excitement slowly turned into doubt.

Then doubt turned into disappointment.

And disappointment turned into something heavier something he didn’t want to name.

He checked his phone. No messages. No calls.

His jaw clenched as he looked down at the chocolates in his lap. He had really let himself believe this would work. That maybe, if he just put in the effort, if he showed you how much he cared, you would see that he was still here. That he had always been here.

But you weren’t coming.

Maybe you had seen the roses and chosen to ignore them. Maybe you had better things to do maybe with Lee Joon.

Minho exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before standing up. He didn’t want to sit here like an idiot any longer.

Without another thought, he placed the chocolate box on the bench and turned away.

As he walked down the path, his hands stuffed into his pockets, he told himself he didn’t care.

He tried.

That was enough, right?

But just as he reached the park entrance, just as he was about to leave—

“Minho!”

His entire body froze.

For a second, he thought he had imagined it. That maybe his mind was playing tricks on him because he wanted to hear you say his name so badly.

But then—

“Minho, wait!”

He turned around.

And there you were.

You were breathless, your hair slightly messy from running, your eyes wide as you searched for him. In one hand, you clutched the chocolate box he had left behind.

Minho’s heart stuttered in his chest.

You came.

His feet moved before he could think, carrying him back toward you.

As soon as you saw him, relief washed over your face. “You—” You paused, trying to catch your breath. “You were leaving?”

Minho swallowed hard, trying to act indifferent, trying to ignore the way his pulse was racing. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

Your grip on the chocolate box tightened. “I was late. Kitty didn’t tell me why I needed to come here, just that I had to.” You exhaled, taking a step closer. “But when I saw the roses, I knew it was you.”

Minho blinked, caught off guard. “You knew?”

You nodded, smiling slightly. “Of course. It was dramatic and over-the-top. Who else could it be?”

Despite everything, a small chuckle escaped him. “Fair point.”

There was a beat of silence before you looked down at the chocolate box in your hands. “Were you really about to leave without this?”

Minho hesitated, then shrugged. “I figured you’d find it eventually.”

You bit your lip, studying him carefully. “Minho… what is all this?”

His heart pounded against his ribs. This was it.

The moment where he had to say it.

The moment where he had to be honest.

Minho inhaled deeply, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. Then, in a quiet but steady voice, he said—

“It’s you.”

You blinked. “What?”

Minho exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “It’s always been you, Y/N. I know I messed up I know I took too long to realize it, but I like you. And not in the casual, best-friend-who-flirts-with-you way. I really like you.”

Your eyes widened, lips parting slightly in surprise.

Minho swallowed, forcing himself to keep going before he lost his nerve.

“I see the way you look at Lee Joon,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “And I hate it. Not because he’s a bad guy, but because… I wanted to be the one you looked at like that. I wanted to be the one who made you laugh, who got your attention, who you—” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m too late. Maybe I should’ve said something sooner. But I had to try.”

Silence.

The park suddenly felt too quiet, too still.

Minho’s chest tightened as he watched you, trying to read your expression. Were you angry? Were you happy? Did you think this was too much?

Then, after what felt like forever, you took a deep breath and whispered, “You’re an idiot.”

Minho’s heart sank.

Before he could respond, you shook your head, stepping even closer until he could feel the warmth of your presence.

“You’re an idiot,” you repeated, softer this time. “Because I waited for so long for you to say that.”

Minho’s breath hitched. “You… what?”

You smiled, reaching out to place the chocolate box back into his hands. “I like you too, Minho.”

His heart stopped.

For the first time in weeks, the weight in his chest lifted.

“You—” He let out a breathless laugh. “You do?”

You rolled your eyes, but there was a fondness there. “Took you long enough to notice.”

Minho could barely process what was happening. The relief, the shock, the stupid grin tugging at his lips he felt like a complete idiot for not realizing it sooner.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “So… does this mean I don’t have to pretend I like Lee Joon anymore?”

You laughed, and the sound was his favorite thing in the world.

“No,” you teased, nudging his shoulder. “But maybe you can start making it up to me by sharing those chocolates.”

Minho smirked, his confidence returning. “Only if you share a milkshake with me after.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were still smiling.

The two of you made your way through the streets, the city lights casting a warm glow around you. The streets weren’t too crowded, but there was a comfortable buzz of life all around cars passing by, soft music playing from open shop doors, the occasional laughter of strangers.

And through it all, Minho never let go of your hand.

When you finally reached the small restaurant a cozy little place with checkered floors and booths that looked like they hadn’t changed since the ‘80s you felt a wave of nostalgia.

“You picked this place?” you asked, surprised.

Minho smirked. “Obviously. I have great taste.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re just saying that because they put a cherry on top of their milkshakes.”

He gasped, placing a hand over his chest. “How dare you expose me like that.”

Laughing, you let him pull you inside. The warmth of the restaurant immediately wrapped around you, a stark contrast to the cool night air outside.

A friendly-looking waitress greeted you both and led you to a booth by the window. Minho slid into one side, and instead of sitting across from him like a normal person, you scooted in beside him, close enough that your legs brushed under the table.

Minho blinked, momentarily thrown off. But then, a slow smirk stretched across his lips. “Oh?”

You raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing.” He shrugged, leaning back against the seat like he wasn’t losing his mind over the fact that you were willingly sitting this close. “Just didn’t expect you to be so clingy.”

You scoffed, nudging him with your shoulder. “Shut up.”

Minho chuckled but didn’t push it. Instead, he picked up the menu and held it out to you. “Go ahead and pick. But if you don’t get chocolate, just know that I’ll be judging you.”

You shook your head, smiling to yourself as you took the menu. “Noted.”

As the two of you sat there, your fingers still loosely intertwined under the table, Minho realized something.

For the first time in weeks, he wasn’t thinking about what he had lost.

He was thinking about what he had found.

The milkshake sat between you, two straws sticking out of the tall glass, condensation gathering on the sides. The diner’s neon lights cast a soft glow over your faces, reflecting in the window beside you. The place had a cozy hum of life soft music playing from the jukebox, the occasional clatter of dishes, and the quiet murmur of other customers.

But none of it mattered.

Because all Minho could focus on was you.

The way your lips curled around the straw as you took a sip, the way you absentmindedly played with the sleeves of his hoodie, the way your knee kept bumping against his under the table but you didn’t move away.

You caught him staring.

“What?” you asked, tilting your head.

Minho blinked, trying to play it cool, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “Nothing.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Liar.”

He smirked. “Maybe I just like looking at you.”

Your cheeks turned the faintest shade of pink, and Minho’s smirk only grew.

But before you could come up with a response, he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to something softer.

“You know,” he said, fingers brushing against yours on the table, “I didn’t think tonight would end like this.”

You raised an eyebrow, lips twitching. “How did you think it would end?”

Minho exhaled a small laugh, shaking his head. “Not like this. Not with you wearing my hoodie. Not with you sitting so close I can barely think straight.”

You smiled, looking down for a second before glancing back up at him through your lashes. “Is that a bad thing?”

Minho swallowed, his heart doing something stupid in his chest.

“No,” he murmured. “Not at all.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

The world outside continued moving cars passing by, people walking along the sidewalks but inside the small diner, time felt still.

Then, before he could talk himself out of it, Minho reached up, his fingers gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His touch lingered for a second longer than necessary, and you didn’t pull away.

Instead, you leaned in.

His breath hitched, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. “Y/N…”

You tilted your head, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah?”

Minho hesitated, just for a second. Not because he didn’t want to he had wanted to kiss you for so long—but because this moment felt different. It wasn’t just some casual, fleeting thing.

It was you.

And that meant everything.

But when you gave him the smallest nod, silently telling him it was okay

He didn’t wait.

He closed the space between you, his lips brushing against yours in the softest, slowest kiss.

You tasted like chocolate and vanilla, sweet and warm, and Minho melted into it, one hand cupping your cheek while the other rested lightly on your waist.

You kissed him back without hesitation, your fingers curling into the fabric of his sleeve, pulling him closer like you never wanted to let go.

And Minho?

He was already gone for you.

After finishing your milkshake, neither of you had wanted the night to end just yet. The warmth of your first kiss still lingered, making everything else feel softer more real. So when Minho suggested walking back to his place instead of calling a ride, you agreed without hesitation.

It wasn’t far, just a few blocks, and the walk was quiet, comfortable. His fingers never left yours, his grip firm but gentle, as if he was still trying to convince himself you were really here.

When you reached his house, he didn’t even hesitate to invite you inside. “It’s late,” he had said. “You can crash here if you want. I have extra blankets.”

You had teased him, saying, “You just wanted an excuse to keep me close,” and instead of denying it, he had simply smirked. “And?”

That’s how you found yourself now, lying on his bed, wrapped in the same hoodie he had given you earlier. At first, you had planned to stay up just talk, maybe watch something but somewhere in the middle of the quiet conversation, with the soft glow of his bedside lamp illuminating his face, sleep had crept up on both of you.

Now, the room was silent except for the steady sound of Minho’s breathing.

His arms were securely wrapped around you, holding you close against his chest like he had no intention of letting go. His face was relaxed, his usual sharp features softened by sleep. Every so often, his grip would tighten slightly, as if even in his dreams, he was making sure you were still there.

And you?

You had never felt safer.

You had never felt more at home than you did right now, tucked into Minho’s warmth, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

It was perfect.

Until—

The door creaked open.

Minho’s parents had planned on checking in on him, expecting to find their son in his usual dramatic sleeping position sprawled out on his bed, probably snoring.

What they didn’t expect was to see him curled up around you, his arms wrapped protectively around your frame, his face buried in your hair.

His mother blinked, momentarily speechless.

His father raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s new.”

Minho stirred slightly, mumbling something in his sleep before pulling you closer.

His mother, finally snapping out of her surprise, melted on the spot. “Oh my god,” she whispered, grinning. “Look at them.”

His dad sighed as he smiled. “ He finally got his girl.”

His mother smirked. “He sure did.”

She reached for her phone, quickly snapping a picture. “We’re saving this for later.”

His father chuckled. “Should we wake them?”

His mother gasped, horrified. “Are you insane?! Look how peaceful he is! Do you know how rare it is for Minho to not be complaining about something? We let them sleep.”

His dad held up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright.”

But before leaving, his mother glanced back at the two of you one more time, her heart swelling. She had never seen her son like this before so content, so soft.

And as they quietly closed the door behind them, she smiled to herself, already imagining the wedding.

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. The first thing you became aware of was warmth. Minho’s warmth. His arms were still wrapped securely around you, his chest rising and falling steadily against your back.

For a moment, you didn’t move.

You just lay there, soaking in everything. The way his breath tickled the nape of your neck, the way his fingers had lazily intertwined with yours sometime in the middle of the night, the way his body was completely relaxed against yours.

Then, Minho stirred, groaning softly as he tightened his hold on you. “Mm… five more minutes,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

You smiled, turning slightly so you could see his face. His hair was an absolute mess, sticking up in random directions, and his eyes were still barely open. He looked ridiculously adorable.

“You’re the one who has to get up,” you teased. “It’s your house.”

Minho groaned dramatically, burying his face in your shoulder. “Let’s just live here forever.”

You laughed. “In your bed?”

“Yep.” He peeked up at you, smirking. “Though, to be fair, you didn’t seem to mind being in my arms all night.”

You rolled your eyes, lightly pushing his shoulder. “Shut up.”

He grinned but finally let go, stretching with a yawn before rolling out of bed. “Come on. Let’s get food before my mom thinks we died in here.”

Breakfast was surprisingly peaceful.

Minho’s mom had made pancakes, and despite the teasing glances she kept throwing at you two, she didn’t say anything though you could tell she wanted to. Minho, of course, acted like nothing had changed, but every now and then, his knee would brush against yours under the table, or he’d sneak little glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking.

You definitely noticed.

As you reached for the syrup, Minho’s phone buzzed on the table. He picked it up, and when he saw the name on the screen, he immediately sighed.

“Of course it’s Kitty.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What does she want?”

He opened the message, and you leaned over to peek at his screen.

Kitty: Soooo… did the plan work or not??? I need updates. Did you confess??

Minho shook his head, smirking. “She’s acting like this was some grand heist.”

You laughed. “To be fair, it kinda was.”

Minho hummed, pretending to consider it. “True.”

Then, instead of responding with words, he turned his camera on, leaned in toward you, and snapped a quick picture of the two of you sitting way too close at the breakfast table your hand in his, his hoodie still draped over your shoulders.

You blinked. “Minho—”

Too late.

He sent the picture.

A second later, Kitty’s response came in.

Kitty: OH MY GOD I KNEW IT!!!

Minho chuckled, locking his phone before placing it back on the table. “That should keep her satisfied for now.”

You shook your head, amused. “You’re so dramatic.”

Minho smirked, resting his chin in his palm as he gazed at you. “And yet, you’re still here.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips.

Because, honestly?

There was nowhere else you’d rather be.

The school day was just beginning, and you were walking alongside Minho, your usual group of friends scattered about. The moment you stepped onto the campus, you could feel the weight of the new dynamic. You and Minho were finally… officially together. The tension and uncertainty of the past few weeks had shifted into something more solid, more real, and it made your heart race every time you caught his eye.

You couldn’t help but notice the small things how Minho would reach over to squeeze your hand between classes or how he’d make sure to walk you to your next period, carrying your bag for you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Today, you noticed it even more. The way he looked at you when you laughed at something, the way his hand never left yours unless absolutely necessary. You were still getting used to this new, more affectionate side of Minho, but it felt right.

Until—

As you walked toward the building, a familiar voice cut through the chatter of the hall.

“Minho.”

You froze, and Minho did too. You both turned to see Lee Joon walking toward you, his usual calm expression in place. He wasn’t alone there were a couple of his friends walking behind him but it was clear his attention was on you and Minho.

For a second, there was an awkward silence. You weren’t sure what to say after everything, you’d almost forgotten that there had once been something between you and Lee Joon. But here he was, standing in front of you, and you had no idea how this was going to go.

Lee Joon gave you a small smile, but his gaze shifted to Minho, his expression softening.

“I just wanted to say,” he began, his voice steady, “I’m happy for you two.”

Minho blinked, clearly not expecting that. “What?”

Lee Joon shrugged, hands shoved into his pockets. “I mean it. I’m glad you two worked it out.” He glanced at you for a moment, then looked back at Minho. “I just hope you’ll treat her well, yeah?”

There was a strange tension in the air, but Lee Joon’s words were honest, and his tone was sincere.

Minho raised an eyebrow, clearly processing Lee Joon’s sudden warmth. “I—yeah, I will.” He smirked. “Not like I’d do anything else.”

Lee Joon nodded, his gaze softening. “Just making sure.” He offered Minho a small smile. “Anyway, good luck, man. I wish you both the best.”

Minho nodded, his posture relaxing. “Thanks, Lee Joon.” He smiled in return, a little less guarded now.

Lee Joon didn’t linger for long. He gave you a nod before turning and walking away with his friends, leaving the two of you standing in the hallway.

The moment Lee Joon disappeared around the corner, Minho exhaled a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, his hand still holding yours. “That was… unexpected.”

You looked up at him, a little surprised by how easily Minho had taken it. “Yeah. It was nice of him, though.”

Minho smirked, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Yeah, well… he knows I’ll treat you right. I don’t need to prove anything.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the warmth spreading through your chest. “You’re so confident.”

Minho chuckled, pulling you a little closer. “It’s not about confidence. It’s about knowing what I have.”

He gave you a mischievous look, and you felt your cheeks heat up.

“Well, good,” you teased, “because I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

Minho’s grin softened, and he leaned in to kiss the top of your head. “Good. Because neither am I.”

And as you both made your way into the building, hand in hand, you couldn’t help but feel like everything was finally falling into place.

The day was flying by, and lunch break arrived with a wave of relief. You and Minho made your way to the usual spot where you’d meet up with your friends, settling into a spot on the grassy field behind the school. The weather was perfect a light breeze, warm sun but something about it felt a little off today.

As you sat down, you noticed that Kitty wasn’t exactly looking too thrilled. She was pacing around the area, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, shooting occasional glances at you and Minho. It wasn’t the usual carefree Kitty you were used to, and you couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.

Minho, sitting beside you, seemed to pick up on it, too. He leaned over, resting his head on your shoulder for a second as he whispered, “What’s with Kitty?”

You looked over at her. “I think she’s… jealous?”

Minho blinked, clearly confused. “Of us?”

You chuckled lightly. “I think she’s tired of playing the third wheel.”

At that, Minho burst into laughter. “What, you think she’s jealous of me?”

“Well, when you’re always the one hanging out with me, maybe.” You shot him a teasing glance, nudging him with your elbow. “Don’t worry, she’ll get over it. It’s just… funny how she’s acting.”

Just as you said that, Kitty suddenly groaned loudly, causing both you and Minho to turn toward her. She flopped down dramatically on the grass beside you, throwing her arms out in frustration.

“I can’t stand this!” she declared, earning curious looks from the people around her.

You raised an eyebrow, trying not to laugh. “What’s wrong with you now, Kitty?”

She let out a theatrical sigh, flopping her head back onto the grass as if the entire world were conspiring against her. “I am literally the third wheel now! How am I supposed to be your best friend if you’re over here being all cute together all the time?” She shot you both an exaggerated pout. “You know I’m just here for the drama, and you guys are ruining it with all your…” she gestured dramatically to the both of you, “…love and cuddles and whatever else you’re doing.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and warm. Minho chuckled too, clearly amused. “We’re not doing anything, Kitty. We’re just sitting here.”

Kitty threw up her hands. “It’s not the sitting, it’s the fact that I’m alone while you two are all over each other! You’re making me feel like a third wheel, and I’m not okay with that!”

Minho grinned mischievously, leaning back against the grass. “If it makes you feel any better, Kitty,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm, “I’m sure we could work something out. You’re always welcome to hang out with us.”

Kitty narrowed her eyes. “Oh, really? You’re just so generous, Minho. Like, I’m so excited to spend my time watching you two be all… sweet and adorable.”

You grinned, teasing her playfully. “I think you’re just mad because you have no one to complain about like we do.”

Kitty groaned again, rolling her eyes. “Ugh, fine, I get it. You two are all happy and cute, and I’m stuck in the corner being the lonely best friend.”

Minho smirked, nudging you with his shoulder. “Well, you can hang out with us, but you have to put up with the cuteness.”

Kitty dramatically covered her face with her hands. “I don’t think I can handle it!”

You laughed, your heart warm from the teasing banter. You could tell that even though Kitty was acting all dramatic about the situation, she didn’t truly mind. She loved both of you, and she just wanted to make sure she wasn’t forgotten in all of this new relationship excitement.

Minho, sensing the mood shifting, leaned forward with a genuine smile. “Hey, we’ll make it up to you, Kitty. How about we all hang out this weekend? You, me, Y/N. I’ll even throw in some extra snacks for you to complain about us with.”

Kitty raised her head from her hands, giving him a skeptical look. “You’ll throw in extra snacks, huh?”

“Yep.” Minho grinned. “And I’ll promise not to be overly affectionate around you. Maybe.”

Kitty smirked. “Alright, deal. But only if I get to choose the movie.”

You and Minho exchanged glances, both of you knowing there was no way Kitty would ever let you pick the movie after all this.

“Deal,” Minho agreed, already preparing himself for whatever chaos Kitty was about to drag you into next.

“Great,” Kitty said, sitting up and wiping her hands dramatically. “Now that we’ve settled that, you guys owe me for ruining my third-wheel-free life.”

Minho rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll make it up to you, don’t worry.”

As the three of you sat there, joking and laughing, the warmth of your new relationship and the friendship that came with it was more than enough to make everything feel right. Even if Kitty was a little dramatic, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The weekend arrived, and the three of you gathered at Minho’s place for your promised movie night. Kitty had already made it clear that she would control the movie selection, but to her surprise, she was having a hard time picking one. Every time she suggested a movie, Minho would raise an eyebrow and say, “Are you sure that one? We might fall asleep in the middle of it.”

“You’re lucky I don’t make you watch another rom-com,” she threatened, glancing between the two of you with a playful smirk.

You chuckled. “I think we’ve seen enough rom-coms for one lifetime, Kitty.”

Minho grinned. “I’m on her side this time. No more cheesy love stories.”

Kitty huffed but eventually settled on a movie. She made sure it was one neither of you had seen, determined to pick something that would hold your attention. Popcorn was popped, and drinks were set out in front of you both, but as the night went on, it became obvious that the movie wasn’t the only thing that had everyone’s attention.

You and Minho found yourselves sitting close together on the couch, your legs tangled beneath a soft blanket. Kitty was seated next to you, but she was starting to get a little more restless as the evening wore on.

Minho, being Minho, couldn’t help but keep sneaking glances at you. your hand in his, his fingers gently tracing the back of your hand. Every now and then, he’d feed you a piece of popcorn, and you’d smile and reciprocate by handing him one in return. It wasn’t anything dramatic, just simple gestures of affection that made your heart flutter.

Kitty, on the other hand, was watching the two of you with a slightly exasperated look on her face. At first, she tried to hide it behind the popcorn bowl, but it was hard not to notice the way her eyes kept flicking over to you and Minho, both of you so caught up in your little bubble of quiet tenderness.

You leaned against Minho’s shoulder, feeling content as he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. “This movie’s good,” you said softly, though you knew you were paying more attention to him than the actual film.

“Mm-hmm,” Minho murmured, his lips brushing your forehead. “Better with you here.”

You smiled, brushing your cheek against his arm. “It’s always better when you’re around.”

Kitty rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the tiny smile tugging at her lips. “You guys are so cheesy,” she said, though the tone wasn’t as biting as before.

You looked at her, a little mischievous. “Oh, don’t act like you’re not enjoying the drama of it all.”

She threw a pillow at you. “I’m not enjoying anything, thank you very much. I’m just—”

She stopped when she saw you and Minho share a quiet laugh, his hand brushing your hair away from your face. It was in that moment that something shifted in Kitty’s eyes. The earlier feeling of being left out and annoyed by the constant affection faded, replaced by something different.

She felt a little… guilty.

She had been so quick to complain about being the third wheel, but now, as she watched the way Minho gazed at you like you were the center of his world she couldn’t help but feel a wave of regret.

Minho was happy. You were happy. And here she was, trying to make herself the center of attention, when she knew perfectly well that she didn’t need to be.

Kitty paused, her arms crossing as she sighed deeply. “Okay, okay. I admit it. I’m a little jealous. Happy now?”

You and Minho both laughed at her outburst, and she threw her hands up in defeat.

“I’m just saying, you two are so cute together. And I’m just… I don’t know… sitting here eating all the popcorn.” She leaned back into the couch dramatically. “You’re like a real couple now, huh?”

Minho leaned over, gently pulling the blanket higher around you both. “Yeah, we are.” He gave her a playful grin. “And don’t worry, Kitty. You’re still our favorite third wheel.”

Kitty rolled her eyes again but smiled, her earlier annoyance melting away as she saw the affection between you and Minho. It was clear that you both were in a happy, comfortable place, and while it might’ve taken her a moment to get used to it, she was genuinely happy for you both.

“I guess I can get used to being the third wheel if you two keep being this adorable,” she said, her voice light and teasing again.

You grinned and handed her the popcorn. “As long as you’re still our favorite third wheel.”

Kitty took the bowl from you and sighed dramatically. “I’ll allow it.” She glanced over at you both, her expression softening. “But you guys better treat each other well. I’m keeping an eye on you, Minho.”

Minho chuckled, wrapping his arm tighter around you, pulling you closer. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”

Kitty leaned back, smiling quietly as she watched you and Minho. And despite the playful teasing, there was a warmth in her chest a realization that she wasn’t just the third wheel. She was part of something special, too. She would always be a part of your circle, and that’s what truly mattered.

As the movie continued to play, and you and Minho quietly exchanged sweet words, Kitty settled in beside you both, no longer feeling like an outsider. Instead, she was part of this beautiful, messy, and loving little family you were creating, and maybe just maybe being the third wheel didn’t seem so bad after all.

The next day, you and Kitty were hanging out in the school courtyard, enjoying a rare moment of peace before the chaos of the next class. The sun was warm, the breeze gentle, and for once, Kitty wasn’t groaning about third-wheeling until, of course, Minho appeared.

And not just Minho.

Minho, walking confidently across the courtyard with a massive teddy bear in his arms.

You blinked in surprise, trying to process what you were seeing. The teddy bear was almost as big as he was, its fluffy arms practically swallowing him whole. He carried it effortlessly, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

Kitty, on the other hand, immediately burst into laughter. “Oh, this is gold.” She crossed her arms and smirked as Minho reached your table. “So, tell me, Minho who’s the lucky recipient of that absurdly large bear? Is it… me?” She batted her eyelashes dramatically. “You really shouldn’t have.”

Minho rolled his eyes, adjusting his grip on the bear as he looked at Kitty with mock seriousness. “Oh, yeah, totally. I went to the store, saw this giant teddy bear, and thought, You know who needs this? Kitty Song Covey.”

Kitty gasped, pressing a hand to her chest in fake flattery. “Wow. I’m touched. I mean, I always knew I was your favorite person, but this really seals the deal.”

Minho ignored her, turning toward you with a small, almost shy smile. “Nah, this is obviously for Y/N.”

Your eyes widened as he extended the teddy bear toward you, and a soft warmth spread through your chest. “Minho… this is huge.” You reached out to touch the soft fur, grinning as you took it from him. “What’s the occasion?”

Minho shrugged nonchalantly, but there was a hint of pink dusting his cheeks. “No occasion. Just saw it and thought you’d like it.”

Kitty groaned dramatically. “Oh my god. You two are unbearable.” She gestured toward the teddy bear. “Literally.”

Minho shot her a smug grin. “Jealous, Kitty?”

Kitty huffed, shaking her head. “Not in the slightest. But I will say this if you keep spoiling Y/N like this, you’re setting a dangerous precedent. She’s gonna start expecting giant teddy bears all the time.”

You hugged the bear close, laughing. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind that.”

Minho smirked, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Noted.”

Kitty fake gagged. “Okay, enough. I need to find a date immediately before I drown in the sheer amount of romance happening in front of me.”

Minho just chuckled as you leaned into the plush bear, completely content.

And as Kitty dramatically pulled out her phone, muttering about setting up a dating profile, you couldn’t help but feel incredibly lucky to have Minho and his ridiculously sweet gestures all to yourself.

That night, Kitty walked into your living room, arms full with two giant bags of snacks like popcorn, candy, chips, and even a couple of sodas she had smuggled in from her dorm. She had been looking forward to this sleepover all week. A classic bestie night: just you and her, watching rom-coms, gossiping, and stuffing your faces with junk food.

But the second she stepped into the dimly lit room, her excitement immediately turned into exasperation.

Because there, right in the middle of your living room, were you and Minho.

Cuddled up on top of the massive teddy bear he had given you earlier, wrapped in a fluffy blanket, both of you fast asleep.

Kitty let out the most dramatic groan, dropping the snack bags onto the floor with a loud rustle. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

You had promised her. PROMISED. It was supposed to be a just the two of you kind of night no boyfriends allowed. But here you were, completely breaking the sacred best friend sleepover code, snuggled up against Minho like the two of you were in your own little world.

Kitty crossed her arms, tapping her foot. “Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath.

Minho, of course, was sleeping peacefully, his arms wrapped securely around you, his face buried in your hair like he had no plans of moving anytime soon. You, curled up comfortably against his chest, were equally as lost in dreamland, your head resting just beneath his chin.

Kitty sighed, rubbing her temples. “This is exactly why I need a boyfriend. So I don’t have to suffer alone every time you two decide to turn my night into a third-wheel nightmare.”

She contemplated waking you up shaking you awake and demanding answers but then she noticed something that made her pause.

Despite how annoying it was to have her best friend ditch their plans, the way you and Minho were curled up together, completely at ease, was kind of… sweet. It wasn’t just some casual nap; it was the kind of peaceful, soft kind of love that made it obvious how much you two cared about each other.

Kitty sighed dramatically, crouching down to grab the spilled snack bags. “Fine,” she muttered to herself. “I’ll let it slide this time. But next sleepover? No boyfriends allowed. I mean it.”

With one last exasperated glance at you two, she plopped down onto the couch, pulled out a bag of popcorn, and started her movie third-wheeling once again, but at least with good snacks.

The afternoon sun hung high in the sky, casting a golden glow over the school courtyard as you and Minho walked hand in hand, matching strides. The weekend was just around the corner, and you had the perfect plan a carnival date. Well, technically, a carnival hangout, since you were about to invite Kitty.

Minho, of course, was less than thrilled about that part.

“Remind me why we’re inviting her again?” he asked, glancing at you with a smirk.

You nudged him playfully. “Because she’s our friend and because I totally ditched her during the sleepover. We owe her.”

Minho sighed dramatically. “Fine. But if she ruins our romantic moments, I’m making her buy me churros.”

You giggled as you spotted Kitty near her locker, scrolling through her phone, completely oblivious to your approach. Minho, ever the menace, leaned in and whispered, “Watch this,” before calling out

“Kitty Song Covey!”

Kitty visibly flinched, nearly dropping her phone. She whipped her head around, eyes narrowing. “Why do you sound like you’re about to ask me for a favor?”

You beamed at her. “Because we are!”

Kitty groaned, already shaking her head. “Nope. I don’t like this. Whatever it is, no.”

Minho scoffed. “You don’t even know what we’re gonna say.”

Kitty crossed her arms. “Fine. Hit me with it.”

You clasped your hands together, putting on your sweetest voice. “We’re going to the carnival this weekend, and we want you to come with us!”

Kitty blinked. Then, as if she had just heard the most ridiculous thing in the world, she let out a loud, mocking laugh.

Minho frowned. “What’s so funny?”

Kitty wiped an imaginary tear. “Oh, you two are hilarious. You actually think I’m going to spend my Friday night watching you two be disgustingly cute at a carnival?”

You pouted. “Come on, Kitty. We’ll go on rides, eat junk food, win prizes. It’ll be fun!”

Kitty gave you a deadpan look. “Fun for who? Because let’s be real, the moment we get there, it’s gonna be ‘Omg, Minho, let’s go on the Ferris wheel!’ ‘Minho, win me that stuffed bear!’ ‘Minho, let’s share some cotton candy!’” She rolled her eyes. “Meanwhile, I’ll be in the background, questioning all my life choices.”

Minho smirked. “You do have a point. We’d be way too busy being adorable to give you attention.”

Kitty groaned. “See? This is exactly what I’m talking about!” She turned to you. “Tell me I’m wrong. Go ahead. Lie to my face.”

You opened your mouth, then hesitated. Because, well… she wasn’t wrong. You and Minho would probably do all of that.

Kitty smirked in triumph. “Exactly.” She slung her bag over her shoulder. “So, yeah. Thanks, but no thanks. I’d rather spend my Friday night doing literally anything else than third-wheeling at a carnival.”

Minho grinned, draping an arm around you. “Your loss. Guess that means more snacks and prizes for us.”

Kitty scoffed. “Oh, please. Minho’s just saying that because he knows you’re gonna make him spend all his money on those overpriced carnival games.”

Minho’s smirk faltered slightly. “…That’s not entirely false.”

You giggled, leaning into him. “You love it, though.”

Minho sighed dramatically. “Yeah, yeah. I guess I do.”

Kitty made a gagging noise. “And this is exactly why I’m staying home.” She started to walk away, then paused, turning back to you. “But hey, if you win a big plushie, I expect a picture. Y’know, just so I can suffer from afar.”

You laughed. “Deal.”

As Kitty walked off, Minho chuckled, squeezing your hand. “Well, that went as expected.”

You grinned. “That just means we get to have the most romantic, disgustingly cute date ever.”

Minho smirked. “Oh, absolutely. Let’s make sure Kitty regrets not coming.”

And with that, the two of you walked off, already planning the perfect carnival date completely third-wheel free.

The carnival was everything you had hoped for bright lights, the scent of fried food in the air, and the sound of excited laughter filling the night. It was the perfect atmosphere for a date, and Minho, ever the gentleman, had already taken your hand the moment you stepped through the entrance.

And, of course, in true Kitty fashion, everything she predicted was coming true.

First stop? The Ferris wheel.

You had insisted on it, dragging Minho toward the towering ride with stars in your eyes. “Come on, it’s a must!” you said, looking at him with so much excitement that he just sighed and let himself be pulled along.

Once inside the small, enclosed gondola, you leaned against him, resting your head on his shoulder as the ride began its slow ascent. The higher you went, the more the entire carnival stretched out beneath you, a glittering wonderland of neon lights and moving rides.

Minho glanced down at you, smirking. “So, when do I get my dramatic movie moment where you say something super sentimental?”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “You mean like, ‘Minho, you make my world brighter than all these carnival lights combined’?”

Minho chuckled. “Yeah. Something cheesy like that.”

You looked at him for a moment, then smiled softly. “I don’t need to say that, because you already know it’s true.”

For once, Minho was silent. His smirk faded just slightly, replaced with something softer, something almost vulnerable. Then, without a word, he leaned down and kissed your forehead, letting the moment speak for itself.

By the time you got off the Ferris wheel, you were beaming.

Next stop? The carnival games.

You weren’t going to lie you were determined to leave with a stuffed animal. And unfortunately for Minho, that meant that he’ll end up being replaced by that some stuffed animal

“Minho, you have to win me that one!” You pointed at a giant plush bunny hanging from one of the booths.

Minho eyed it skeptically. “That thing is, like, twice your size.”

“So? That just means I’ll have more to cuddle when you’re not around.”

Minho gave you a deadpan look. “Are you seriously saying a stuffed bunny could replace me?”

You grinned. “I mean, let’s see if you can even win it first.”

That was all the motivation Minho needed. He rolled up his sleeves, stepped up to the game booth, and put on his game face.

What followed was several attempts, an increasingly frustrated Minho, and a lot of teasing from you. But eventually finally he knocked down all the targets, and the booth attendant handed over the giant plush bunny.

You gasped in delight, hugging the stuffed toy tightly before turning to Minho with the biggest smile. “I take it back. Nothing could replace you.”

Minho huffed, pretending to be unimpressed, but you could see the tiny satisfied smile on his lips. “Good answer.”

Then, without warning, he reached out, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you in close. “But just so you don’t forget, I think I deserve a reward.”

You laughed. “Oh? And what exactly do you want?”

Minho smirked before leaning in, brushing his lips against yours in a sweet, lingering kiss.

By the time you pulled away, your face was warm, your heart racing.

Minho grinned. “That’ll do.”

And finally? The food.

You insisted on sharing cotton candy, even though Minho rolled his eyes and muttered about how predictable you were. But when you held out a piece for him, he didn’t hesitate to lean in and take a bite letting his lips brush against your fingertips in the process.

You felt your face heat up. “You did that on purpose.”

Minho just smirked. “Did I?”

And then there was the churro.

Which Minho also insisted on sharing, but in the most obnoxious way possible.

“Let’s do that couple thing,” he said, holding the churro up.

You raised an eyebrow. “What couple thing?”

Minho’s smirk widened. “Where we each bite from one end at the same time.”

You stared at him. “That is the dumbest—”

But before you could even finish, Minho already took one end into his mouth, raising an expectant eyebrow at you.

You groaned. “I cannot believe you.”

Still, you leaned in, biting the other end.

Kitty would have thrown up on the spot if she had seen it.

By the end of the night, you had done exactly what Kitty had predicted Ferris wheel, winning a plushie, sharing cotton candy, and feeding each other snacks.

And honestly?

You wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Kitty was sprawled across your bed, lazily flipping through a magazine as you tidied up your desk. She had come over to hang out, claiming she needed a “break” from dealing with her own dramas, but you knew the truth she was mildly curious about how your carnival date with Minho went.

She hadn’t asked outright, of course. Instead, she casually glanced around your room, humming to herself until her eyes landed on something huge in the corner.

The giant rabbit plush from last night.

Kitty sat up instantly, pointing at it. “Wait a minute. Don’t you already have one already?”

You paused, following her gaze before letting out a small laugh. “Okay, first of all, I only have one other giant plush. And second, this one is special.”

Kitty snorted. “Special how? Because Minho wasted all his money trying to win it for you?”

Before you could answer, your door suddenly swung open, and speak of the devil Minho walked in.

“Excuse you,” he said, giving Kitty a look as he strolled inside like he owned the place. “I did not waste my money. I made a perfectly justified investment.”

Kitty rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh, of course, spending an absurd amount of cash just to impress your girlfriend is an investment. How silly of me to think otherwise.”

Minho smirked, plopping down onto your bed beside you. “Exactly. Glad you’re finally catching on, Covey.”

Kitty scoffed before turning back to you. “Okay, so explain. Why do you need two enormous stuffed animals taking up half your room?”

You shrugged, hugging the plush rabbit close. “Because they’re cute. And soft. And Minho got them for me.”

Minho leaned back, resting an arm behind his head. “Yeah, it’s called being an amazing boyfriend. You wouldn’t get it, Kitty.”

Kitty groaned. “Oh my god, you are so smug.”

Minho grinned. “And yet, here I am, still the favorite.”

Kitty dramatically flopped back onto your bed, staring at the ceiling. “I need a boyfriend. Or literally any kind of love life. Because I physically cannot keep third-wheeling you two like this.”

You giggled. “You could always get a giant plushie for yourself.”

Kitty shot you a look. “It is not the same, Y/N.”

Minho smirked, leaning in closer to you. “See? No one does it like me.”

Kitty groaned into a pillow. “I hate both of you.”

You and Minho exchanged amused glances before bursting into laughter, while Kitty just dramatically complained about needing new friends who weren’t disgustingly in love.

Kitty sat up, staring at the giant rabbit plush like it was calling her name. She tapped her chin thoughtfully before turning to you with a suspiciously sweet smile.

“So…” she started, scooting closer to the plush. “Can I borrow this little guy for a while?”

You blinked at her, clutching the stuffed bunny closer like she had just asked for your firstborn child. “Uh… no. It’s mine.”

Kitty gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her heart like you had just deeply offended her. “Excuse me?”

Minho, who was casually scrolling through his phone on your bed, snorted. “Did you actually think she’d say yes?”

Kitty ignored him, narrowing her eyes at you. “Wait, why not?! You have Minho! I don’t have anyone! Let me have the bunny!”

You shook your head firmly. “Nope. Minho won it for me. It’s special.”

Kitty threw her hands in the air. “Okay, and what about me? What do I get? Third-wheeling privileges?”

Minho smirked. “Sounds like a you problem, Covey.”

Kitty shot him a glare. “I wasn’t talking to you, Mr. I Spend All My Money on Rigged Carnival Games.”

Minho shrugged, completely unfazed. “Worth it.”

Kitty groaned, flopping back on your bed. “This is so unfair. You have a boyfriend and two giant plushies. Meanwhile, I have neither. I should at least get one!”

You laughed, patting her shoulder. “You can hug the pillow?”

Kitty dramatically rolled onto her side. “It’s not the same. It doesn’t have the emotional support energy that the bunny has.”

Minho leaned in, smirking. “Sounds like you need a boyfriend, Covey.”

Kitty shot up. “Thank you, Minho! I hadn’t realized! Let me just go to the boyfriend store and pick one out!”

Minho chuckled. “Well, if you want, I could help set you up—”

“NO.” Kitty cut him off immediately, pointing a finger at him. “You and your questionable matchmaking skills stay far, far away from my love life.”

Minho leaned back, hands up in surrender. “Fine. Your loss.”

Kitty huffed before turning back to you with pleading eyes. “So? Are you gonna let me borrow the bunny or not?”

You shook your head again, holding it even tighter. “Nope.”

Kitty groaned. “You’re a monster.”

Minho smirked. “Now you know how I feel when she steals my hoodies.”

Kitty gasped again, eyes widening in realization. “OH. MY. GOD. Y/N, you hoard things! First his hoodies, Mostly everything?! What’s next? His soul?”

You grinned innocently. “Already got that.”

Minho chuckled, wrapping an arm around you. “It’s true. I’m hers.”

Kitty made a loud, disgusted noise. “I need new friends.”

And with that, she dramatically flopped onto your bed again, while you and Minho just laughed at her misery.

Kitty, still sulking from her failed attempt to claim the bunny, suddenly pointed at the other giant plush sitting in the corner of your room the first one Minho brought for you.

“Okay, but what about that one?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Can I at least borrow him?”

Before you could even answer, Minho immediately cut in, shaking his head.

“Yeah, no. That one’s off-limits too.”

Kitty groaned. “Oh, come on! Why?!”

Minho smirked, leaning back against your pillows. “Because that’s our son.”

You blinked, looking at him in confusion. “Wait… what?”

Minho pointed at the plushie. “That’s Minho Jr. Our firstborn.”

You burst out laughing. “Oh my god.”

Kitty, meanwhile, was staring at him with pure disbelief. “I— Minho, what the actual—” She turned to you. “Are you seriously going along with this?!”

You shrugged, grinning. “I mean… I guess it kinda makes sense.”

Minho nodded seriously. “Exactly. Minho Jr. was the first big plushie I got for Y/N. He represents the beginning of our love story. He has sentimental value.”

Kitty gagged. “Please, spare me.”

But Minho wasn’t done yet. He pointed at the giant bunny still in your arms. “And that one—our second child.”

Kitty threw her hands in the air. “You did NOT just give the plushies a family ranking!”

Minho shrugged. “Listen, it’s called commitment. You wouldn’t get it.”

You giggled, hugging the bunny closer. “So… Minho Jr. and…” You looked at the bunny thoughtfully. “What’s this one’s name?”

Minho tilted his head, pretending to think. Then he snapped his fingers. “Bunny-ho.”

Kitty lost it. “NO.”

You burst into laughter. “Oh my god, Minho—”

Minho looked so smug. “What? It’s perfect.”

Kitty groaned. “I hate it here. First, I can’t have a plushie, and now I have to sit here while you two build a fake family with stuffed animals?”

Minho smirked, pulling you closer. “You could be the cool aunt, Covey.”

Kitty gave him a deadpan look. “I want nothing to do with this family tree.”

You giggled, leaning into Minho’s side. “It’s okay, Minho. She just doesn’t understand our vision.”

Minho nodded. “Exactly. Some people just aren’t ready for this level of commitment.”

Kitty groaned again, flopping back onto your bed. “I need to start charging you guys for emotional damages.”

Meanwhile, you and Minho just exchanged knowing smiles, completely content with your ridiculous little plushie family.

Kitty was still dramatically lying on your bed, mumbling complaints about how she had somehow ended up third-wheeling a couple and their imaginary plushie family.

Minho, of course, was having the time of his life teasing her.

As he wrapped an arm around you, he turned to Kitty with a smirk. “Hey, so… do you mind watching your nephews while I take this beautiful lady out to dinner?”

Kitty sat up immediately, staring at him like he had lost his mind. “I— excuse me?!”

Minho gestured towards the two giant plushies in the corner, looking completely serious. “Minho Jr. and Bunny-ho. You know, your nephews. Someone’s gotta babysit them while we’re gone.”

You giggled, playing along. “Yeah, Kitty. They’ll get lonely.”

Kitty rubbed her temples. “I cannot believe I’m having this conversation right now.”

Minho tilted his head innocently. “What? You love kids, don’t you?”

Kitty gave him the most deadpan look. “They’re not kids. They’re stuffed animals.”

Minho ignored her, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your temple before grabbing his jacket. “Anyway, we’ll be back later. Make sure they don’t stay up too late.”

Kitty threw her hands in the air. “Oh, right. Because a bunch of cotton and fabric totally has a bedtime!”

You smiled, hugging Bunny-ho close. “And don’t forget to feed them!”

Kitty let out a dramatic gasp. “Oh my god. You guys are actually insane.”

Minho just grinned. “You knew what you were signing up for when you became our friend.”

Kitty groaned, flopping back onto your bed. “You know what? Fine. I’ll watch your fake children. But if they start talking to me, I’m out.”

You and Minho burst into laughter as he took your hand, leading you towards the door.

Right before you stepped out, Minho turned back with a teasing smirk. “Love you, sis. Be a good aunt.”

Kitty threw a pillow at him. “GET OUT!”

You laughed the whole way down the hall, holding Minho’s hand as he chuckled beside you. “She’s never gonna let this go.”

Minho squeezed your hand, smiling down at you. “Totally worth it.”

The restaurant Minho had chosen was small, cozy, and tucked away from the busy streets a place that felt like your own little world. Soft lights hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the wooden tables, and the faint sound of music played in the background. It was perfect.

Minho pulled out your chair for you, giving you a teasing smirk as you sat down. “Only the best treatment for my girl.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “You’re so extra.”

He sat down across from you, resting his chin in his hand as he gazed at you with that annoyingly charming look he always had. “And yet, you love it.”

You pretended to think for a moment, tapping your chin. “Hmm… I don’t know, do I?”

Minho scoffed, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. “Wow. After everything I’ve done for you? After winning you one child at the carnival?”

You giggled. “Oh, right! Bunny-ho. I should’ve known this was about him.”

Minho smirked. “Obviously. I take my fatherly duties very seriously.”

A waiter came by, setting down your drinks. Minho grabbed his immediately, taking a sip before looking at you again. “So, what’s the verdict? Best date ever?”

You smiled, stirring your drink with the straw. “It’s definitely up there.”

Minho leaned forward, raising an eyebrow. “Up there?”

You shrugged playfully. “I mean, there was that one time you tripped while trying to impress me—”

Minho groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Oh my god, you promised to never bring that up again.”

You laughed. “I never promised that!”

Minho peeked at you through his fingers before shaking his head, clearly trying to hold back a smile. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You took a sip of your drink, looking at him over the rim. “I know.”

The food arrived, and as you both started eating, Minho kept sneaking bites from your plate, acting innocent every time you caught him.

“Minho!” you gasped, swatting his hand away. “Eat your own food!”

“But yours tastes better,” he whined, quickly grabbing another bite before you could stop him.

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Unbelievable.”

Minho grinned, chewing happily. “Hey, you knew what you were getting into when you started dating me.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help smiling.

After a while, Minho set down his chopsticks and leaned back in his chair, looking at you softly. His usual teasing smirk was replaced by something gentler.

“I really like this,” he said, voice quieter now.

You tilted your head. “Like what?”

He gestured around. “This. Us. Sitting here, eating, talking. Just… being together.”

Your heart melted a little at the way he was looking at you like you were the only person in the world.

You reached across the table, taking his hand in yours. “Me too.”

Minho squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. “Good. Because I plan on doing this a lot more.”

You giggled. “Stealing my food?”

Minho smirked. “That too.”

And as you sat there, laughing and talking over dinner, you knew there was no place you’d rather be.

After finishing dinner, Minho insisted on paying, waving you off when you tried to argue. “Nope, I got this,” he said, pulling out his wallet. “A gentleman always pays for his lady.”

You rolled your eyes with a small smile. “You just don’t want me to see how much you spent.”

Minho smirked. “That too.”

Once you were outside, the night air was cool, but not too cold. The streets were quieter now, the soft glow of streetlights giving everything a warm, cozy feel. Minho reached for your hand as you walked, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“I think that was the best dinner I’ve ever had,” he said.

You looked at him with a teasing smile. “Because of the food or because of me?”

Minho pretended to think for a moment before grinning. “Both. But mostly you.”

You laughed, nudging him lightly. “Good answer.”

As you continued walking, Minho suddenly stopped in front of a small convenience store. “Wait here,” he said before disappearing inside.

You stood there, confused, until he came back out a few minutes later holding two ice cream bars. He unwrapped one and handed it to you.

You smiled, taking it. “What’s this for?”

Minho shrugged, unwrapping his own. “Just felt like ending the night with something sweet.”

You took a bite, enjoying the simple moment. Minho watched you for a second before chuckling.

“What?” you asked.

“You have ice cream on your lip,” he said, stepping closer. Before you could wipe it away, he leaned in and kissed the spot, his lips lingering just for a second.

Your face felt warm despite the cold treat in your hand. “You’re ridiculous,” you mumbled, looking away to hide your smile.

Minho just laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulders as you continued walking. “And yet, you love it.”

You sighed dramatically. “Yeah, yeah.”

He squeezed your shoulder gently. “Say it.”

You looked up at him, meeting his expectant gaze. With a playful smile, you said, “I love it.”

Minho grinned, looking completely satisfied. “Knew it.”

And just like that, the night felt even more perfect.

As soon as you and Minho stepped into your house, still laughing from your walk back, Kitty was already standing there in the doorway with her arms crossed, tapping her foot like an impatient mother waiting for her kids to come home past curfew.

“Finally! You guys are here,” she huffed, throwing her hands up. “Now come and watch your kids— I mean, your stuffed animals.”

Minho smirked, pulling off his jacket. “Aw, did Aunt Kitty have a hard time babysitting?”

Kitty shot him a glare. “Oh, you have no idea. Minho Jr. and Bunny-ho have been so needy. Bunny-ho kept falling over, and Minho Jr. refused to sit properly on the bed.” She placed a dramatic hand on her forehead. “It was exhausting.”

You giggled, playing along. “Wow, sounds like you had a rough night. Maybe you should’ve read them a bedtime story.”

Kitty rolled her eyes. “Oh, I would have, but I didn’t want to overstep my boundaries as the aunt.”

Minho grinned, stepping over to the bed where the two plushies sat, slightly slumped over from all of Kitty’s supposed “hard work.” He picked up Minho Jr. and cradled it like a baby. “Aw, our poor son. Was Aunt Kitty mean to you?”

Kitty groaned, flopping onto the couch. “I hate that I’ve been dragged into this family roleplay.”

You sat next to her, hugging Bunny-ho close. “You love it.”

“I really don’t.”

Minho sat down beside you, still holding onto Minho Jr. “Well, thanks for watching them while we were gone. You’ve done a great job, Covey.”

Kitty crossed her arms. “Yeah, yeah. Next time, I’m charging for my services.”

You and Minho exchanged a knowing look before turning back to her.

Minho smirked. “Nah. You’re family. Babysitting comes with the title.”

Kitty groaned, grabbing a pillow and covering her face with it. “I need a new friend group.”

“So,” Minho started, stretching out his legs. “What time did you feed our kids?”

Kitty’s head snapped up so fast you thought she might get whiplash. “Excuse me?”

Minho gestured toward the stuffed animals. “Minho Jr. and his little brother. What time did you feed them?”

Kitty gawked at him. “They’re stuffed animals, Minho. They don’t eat.”

Minho gasped in pure horror. “You didn’t feed them?!”

Kitty blinked. “Are you serious right now?”

You, already knowing exactly where this was going, bit your lip to hold back your laughter.

Minho turned to you, eyes wide with mock distress. “Y/N. Our kids haven’t eaten all night. No wonder they look so weak.” He reached over and patted Minho Jr.’s head like a concerned parent. “Oh my poor, starving son…”

Kitty threw Minho Jr. at him. “Here, you can have him back then.”

Minho caught the plush with ease, holding him protectively. “Wow. Just wow, Kitty. I trusted you. And you just let them starve.”

Kitty groaned into a pillow. “I hate you so much.”

“You’re never babysitting again,” Minho continued, shaking his head in disappointment. “Neglectful. Absolutely neglectful.”

“They’re literally stuffed animals!” Kitty shouted. “What was I supposed to do, blend up a smoothie and pour it on them?!”

Minho shrugged. “A responsible babysitter would’ve figured it out.”

Kitty threw another pillow at him.

You, by now, were full-on cackling, clutching your stomach as Minho continued his very dramatic lecture on how Minho Jr. deserved better.

And as much as Kitty complained about you two being absolute menaces, you could see the small smile she was trying to hide.

Yeah, she’d never admit it but she loved this chaos.

Minho, still cradling Minho Jr. like a very concerned parent, suddenly gasped and sat up straighter. He patted down the couch dramatically, as if searching for something.

“Oh no,” he muttered. “Oh no, no, no this is bad.”

You wiped a tear from your eye, still giggling from the last round of teasing. “What now?”

Minho ignored you, turning to Kitty with a grave expression. “Kitty,” he said, voice laced with disappointment. “Where’s the diaper bag?”

Kitty stared at him, unblinking. “The what?”

Minho sighed heavily, rubbing his temples like he was so stressed. “The diaper bag, Kitty.”

Kitty let out the most exasperated groan. “Minho, they are stuffed animals! Why the hell would you need a diaper bag?!”

Minho completely ignored her and reached for an imaginary diaper bag beside the couch. He started “rummaging” through it, his expression getting increasingly more horrified.

“Oh my god,” he breathed. “Oh my god.”

You covered your mouth, already losing it.

“What?!” Kitty snapped.

Minho looked up at her, pure betrayal written across his face. “Kitty.” He placed a hand over his chest, like what he was about to say physically pained him. “Did you even change their diapers?”

Silence.

Kitty just stared at him, completely at a loss for words.

Minho let out a long, dramatic sigh and shook his head, turning to you. “Y/N… I think our children have been sitting in dirty diapers this entire time.”

Kitty screeched. “THEY. ARE. STUFFED ANIMALS!”

Minho shushed her, rocking Minho Jr. back and forth. “It’s okay, buddy. Daddy’s here now. I won’t let Auntie Kitty neglect you ever again.”

Kitty launched a pillow at his face.

Minho caught it without even flinching and just tossed it aside, still fully committed to the bit.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, shaking his head. “My poor, poor kids. Abandoned. Unloved. Sitting in filth.” He dramatically wiped an imaginary tear. “Worst babysitter ever.”

Kitty stood up so fast she nearly tripped over your coffee table. “I AM LEAVING.”

You were crying from laughter at this point, clutching your sides as Kitty stormed toward the door.

Minho called after her, “Don’t forget to leave your babysitting license on the counter! Oh wait you don’t have one anymore.”

The door slammed shut.

And that was the exact moment you completely lost it, doubling over with laughter as Minho grinned victoriously.

“She’s never gonna forgive you for that,” you wheezed.

Minho just smirked, hugging Minho Jr. to his chest. “She’ll be back,” he said confidently. “She loves our kids too much.”

You giggled, wiping at your eyes. “She’s so done with us.”

Minho turned to you, an adorable glint of mischief in his eyes. He shifted closer, draping an arm around your shoulders. “You know,” he said smoothly, playing with the hem of your sleeve. “Since Kitty isn’t here anymore…”

You raised an eyebrow. “What?”

His smirk deepened. “I was just thinking.” He leaned in, dropping his voice to a very suggestive whisper. “Let’s try for another baby.”

Your entire brain short-circuited. “WHAT?!”

Minho chuckled, loving the way your face immediately heated up. “Yeah,” he continued, looking completely serious. “I think Minho Jr. and his brother need a little sibling.”

You blinked. Then it hit you.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, shoving his shoulder. “You mean another plushie?!”

Minho gasped, feigning offense. “Another plushie?” He scoffed. “Excuse me, they are our kids, Y/N. Have some respect.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. “You scared me for a second!”

Minho only grinned, completely unfazed. “So? What do you think? Maybe a little sister this time?” He tapped his chin in mock thought. “Maybe a bunny? Or a big fluffy bear?”

You pretended to consider it, tilting your head. “Hmm… I did see a really cute panda plush at the store the other day…”

Minho’s face lit up. “Say less,” he declared, already grabbing his phone. “We are getting that panda.”

You laughed as he immediately pulled up a shopping app, looking way too serious about his mission.

“Wait, wait,” you teased, tugging at his sleeve. “Are you sure we’re ready for another kid? We just got the last two.”

Minho put a hand over his chest, dramatically serious. “Babe,” he said, completely straight-faced. “I was born to be a dad.”

You lost it, burying your face in his sweatshirt as you laughed.

And just as Minho started adding a panda plush to his cart, your phone dinged with a message from Kitty.

Kitty: I swear to god, if you two adopt another one, I’m reporting you to stuffed animal CPS.

Minho glanced over your shoulder, reading the text. He smirked and immediately typed back:

Minho: Too late. You’re gonna be an aunt again.

You laughed as Kitty sent back an immediate string of angry emojis.

Minho just grinned, kissing the side of your head. “Best parents ever.”

You were struggling.

Kitty had somehow convinced you to help her rearrange her entire room, and at this point, you were seriously questioning how she managed to talk you into this. She was currently sprawled on her bed, scrolling through her phone, while you were the one moving stuff around like a personal assistant.

“Okay, now push the bookshelf like… two inches to the left,” Kitty instructed lazily, barely glancing up.

You sighed but did as she asked, nudging the heavy bookshelf over. “How’s that?”

Kitty squinted. “Mmm… actually, maybe a little to the right—”

Before you could throw something at her, Minho, who had been sitting on her desk chair eating your snacks, suddenly stood up, clearing his throat. His face turned serious, eyes narrowing at Kitty as he dramatically put his hands on his hips.

“Excuse me,” he said, voice firm.

Kitty barely looked up. “What?”

Minho took a deep breath, shaking his head as if he was deeply disappointed. “You do realize that my girl is pregnant, right?”

You froze mid-movement. “…What?”

Kitty blinked. “…Come again?”

Minho crossed his arms. “Pregnant.” He gestured toward you. “She shouldn’t be doing all this work! She can’t be carrying heavy things or running around. You should be doing it! So get your butt up and help.”

Kitty stared at him. Then at you. Then back at him. “Minho,” she deadpanned. “Are you stupid?”

You groaned, shaking your head. “Minho, I am not pregnant.”

Minho gasped dramatically. “Babe.” He clutched his chest like you had wounded him. “How could you say that about our baby panda?”

Kitty let out the loudest, most frustrated groan. “Oh my god.”

Minho ignored her, placing a gentle hand on your stomach. “Shh, baby, don’t listen to Mommy,” he cooed, pretending to rub your nonexistent baby bump. “She’s just tired from carrying you all day.”

You shoved his hand away, dying from laughter. “Minho, it’s a stuffed animal.”

He gasped again, even louder this time. “How dare you talk about our unborn child like that?” He turned to Kitty with pure disappointment. “And you! You’re making a pregnant woman do hard labor! Shame on you!”

Kitty, looking like she was on the verge of throwing something at him, slowly sat up. “Minho.”

“Yes?”

She grabbed a pillow and hurled it at his face.

He caught it effortlessly, smirking. “Wow. Violence in front of our child? Terrible influence, Auntie Kitty.”

Kitty screamed into her hands. “I hate you.”

Minho just grinned, wrapping his arms around you. “Come on, babe. You’ve done enough. Let’s go home and rest for the baby’s sake.”

You rolled your eyes but let him pull you toward the door. “Kitty, good luck with your own room.”

Kitty threw another pillow at the both of you as you left, yelling, “I HOPE YOUR KID THROWS UP ON YOU!”

As soon as you and Minho stepped outside Kitty’s room, you burst into laughter, playfully shoving his arm. “You are so ridiculous,” you giggled, wiping away a stray tear from laughing so hard.

Minho just grinned, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close as you walked down the hallway. “Ridiculously devoted to our unborn child, you mean.”

You groaned, shaking your head. “Minho, for the last time, it’s a stuffed panda!”

He let out a dramatic sigh, looking at you like you just didn’t get it. “And? Does that make them any less of our child?”

You gave him a look. “Yes. Yes, it does.”

Minho pouted, nudging you playfully. “I can’t believe you’d say that. Poor little Panda is in there, waiting to be brought home, and you’re already denying them.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help but smile. “You’re impossible.”

Minho smirked, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “And yet, you love me.”

You sighed dramatically, leaning into him. “Unfortunately.”

#minho moon #minho moon x reader #Minho moon x y/n #Minho moon x you #Minho moon imagines #xo kitty #xo kitty x reader #xo kitty x you #ox kitty x Y/n #ox kitty imagines

79 notes · View notes