#they’re in LOVE and they’re BEST FRIENDS

[gpcwsl]

r x leah/alessia grew up together and have been best friends since. they act like a couple and everyone thinks they are but they’re both completely oblivious

Warnings: a kiss?

Leah Williamson x Reader

- Last ones to know -

MasterList

The late afternoon sun streamed through the park trees as Leah kicked the football toward you. The thud of her foot meeting the ball was as familiar to you as the sound of your own heartbeat. You darted forward, trying to intercept, but she was faster. Always had been.

“Too slow!” she taunted, her grin wide and mischievous.

You groaned, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “You know I let you win, right? I just don’t want to bruise your ego.”

Leah smirked, trapping the ball under her foot. “Sure you did.” She paused, looking around. The park was empty except for the two of you, just like it had been when you were kids. Back then, you’d spend hours here, turning patches of grass into stadiums in your imagination.

“Do you ever think about when we were kids?” Leah asked suddenly, her voice softer.

“All the time,” you admitted, walking up to stand beside her. “Especially how I always carried your team in our little tournaments.”

She bumped you with her shoulder. “Delusional.”

You laughed, but your chest warmed at the familiarity of it all. Leah had always been like this—sharp-tongued but gentle, competitive but protective. The kind of person who’d tease you mercilessly but also stand in front of you if anyone else dared to try.

You’d met Leah when you were seven years old, the new kid in the neighborhood. Your first encounter had been less than graceful: she’d accidentally hit you in the face with a football while practicing in the park.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” she’d asked, wide-eyed and panicked, crouching beside you.

You’d sniffled, holding your nose, but the sight of her distressed face had made you laugh. “You’ve got a terrible aim.”

She’d grinned then, the kind of smile that made you forget your stinging nose. “Wanna play?”

From that day on, you were inseparable. Whether it was playing football until the streetlights came on or sneaking into each other’s rooms to whisper about school crushes and big dreams, Leah became your safe place.

Now, years later, that bond had only grown stronger. You and Leah were adults with busy lives, but your friendship remained the one constant.

The first time someone mistook you for a couple, it had been funny. You’d both laughed it off, joking about how people couldn’t handle a “platonic dream team.” But as it happened more often, the jokes started to sting in ways neither of you could explain.

After one of Leah’s matches, you were standing by the pitch, waiting for her. She spotted you instantly, her face breaking into a grin. She jogged over, still in her kit, and pulled you into a sweaty hug.

“God, Leah!” you laughed, trying to squirm away. “You’re disgusting.”

“Stop complaining,” she said, squeezing you tighter. “You love it.”

“Do I?” you teased, but your heart fluttered in a way you chose to ignore.

One of her teammates walked by, smirking. “Leah’s better half strikes again,” she said, giving you a mock salute.

Leah rolled her eyes, but you caught the faint blush on her cheeks. “They’re just jealous,” she muttered as the teammate walked away.

“Jealous of what?” you asked, genuinely curious.

She shrugged, avoiding your gaze. “Nothing. Forget it.”

You didn’t press her, though you couldn’t shake the way your chest tightened at her words.

Leah’s family had always treated you like one of their own. So when her mum invited you to Sunday dinner, you didn’t hesitate.

The evening was filled with laughter and good-natured teasing, as it always was. You sat next to Leah at the table, your shoulders brushing every so often.

“So,” her mum said, setting down a dish. “When are you two finally going to admit it?”

You froze, a piece of roast halfway to your mouth. “Admit what?”

Leah groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Mum, not this again.”

Her mum just smiled knowingly. “Oh, come on. You’ve been in each other’s pockets since you were kids. It’s obvious to everyone except you two.”

You laughed nervously, glancing at Leah. “We’re just friends,” you said quickly.

Her mum raised an eyebrow. “If you say so.”

Leah didn’t say anything, but she was unusually quiet for the rest of the meal.

ILater that night, as you lay in bed, you couldn’t stop thinking about her mum’s words. Were you and Leah really so obvious? And if so… why didn’t you feel weird about it?

Leah, meanwhile, was having similar thoughts. She stared at her ceiling, replaying the day in her mind. It wasn’t the first time someone had assumed you were together, but this time it felt different.

“Why does it matter?” she whispered to herself, her chest tightening.

The week after Leah’s family dinner was like any other on the surface. You still met up for your usual Friday coffee run and sent each other memes at midnight, but there was a shift in the air. Something unspoken hovered between you, neither of you daring to address it.

It started when you mentioned a coworker.

“Jamie’s been helping me with this project,” you said casually, sipping your coffee. “They’re great. Really funny, too.”

Leah froze mid-bite of her croissant. “Jamie?” she asked, trying to sound uninterested.

You nodded. “Yeah. They’ve been a lifesaver. Stayed late with me last night to finish everything up.”

Leah felt a sharp, unfamiliar pang in her chest. “Sounds… nice,” she said, though her tone betrayed her.

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you okay?”

“Me? Fine.” She forced a smile, though her grip on her coffee cup tightened.

Later that evening, Leah texted you:

Leah: So… is this Jamie person just a coworker?

You: Yeah, why?

Leah: No reason. Just wondering.

But it wasn’t no reason. The thought of someone else being that close to you made her stomach twist.

A few days later, the tables turned.

Leah had mentioned in passing that her teammates were trying to set her up on a date. You’d laughed it off at first, but when you saw the texts popping up on her phone—“She’s cute, Leah! Just say yes!”—you felt an ache you couldn’t explain.

“You’re actually considering it?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

Leah shrugged. “Maybe. I mean, it’s just a date, right?”

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Right. Just a date.”

But as you walked home that evening, you couldn’t stop picturing her with someone else. Someone who wasn’t you.

The annual weekend getaway had always been a highlight of your friendship. This year, you rented a small cabin by the lake, just the two of you. It was supposed to be an escape from the noise of your lives, but instead, it became the backdrop for the emotional storm brewing between you.

The first night, you sat by the campfire, the crackling flames casting shadows across Leah’s face.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” you said, breaking the silence.

Leah shrugged, poking at the fire with a stick. “Just… thinking.”

“About what?”

She hesitated. “Do you ever feel like… people see us differently than we see ourselves?”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Like… maybe they see something we don’t.”

Your chest tightened. “Are you talking about what your mum said?”

Leah nodded, her gaze fixed on the fire. “Yeah. I mean, why do people keep saying it? Are we… giving them a reason to think that?”

You laughed nervously. “We’re just close. People don’t get it.”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “Maybe.”

The conversation lingered in the air, unresolved.

The next day, you went out for a hike. The trail was quiet, the only sounds the crunch of leaves underfoot and the occasional birdcall.

As you reached the summit, Leah stopped and turned to you.

“Why did you ask if I was considering that date?” she asked suddenly.

You blinked, caught off guard. “I don’t know. Just curious.”

She stepped closer, her eyes searching yours. “Was that all it was?”

“Why are you asking me this?” you whispered, your heart pounding.

“Because I can’t stop thinking about it,” she admitted. “Every time someone flirts with you or sets me up, I feel… I don’t know. Weird. Like it’s wrong.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse racing. “Leah…”

“I think…” She hesitated, then shook her head. “Forget it.”

But you couldn’t forget it. Her words stayed with you, echoing in your mind long after the hike was over.

That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, you sat on the cabin porch, staring at the lake. Leah joined you, sitting so close your knees touched.

“I need to say something,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.

You turned to her, your breath catching at the vulnerability in her eyes.

“I’ve been trying to ignore it,” she began, “but I can’t anymore. I think… I’ve always felt something more for you. I just didn’t realize what it was until now.”

Your heart stopped. “Leah, are you saying…?”

“I love you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Not just as a friend. Not just because we’ve known each other forever. I love you in every way.”

Tears stung your eyes as her words sunk in. “Leah, I…” You trailed off, overwhelmed.

“It’s okay,” she said quickly. “You don’t have to say anything. I just needed you to know.”

But you couldn’t let her think it wasn’t mutual. Reaching out, you took her hand in yours. “I love you too,” you admitted. “I think I always have. I was just too scared to see it.”

Relief and joy flooded her face as she pulled you into her arms.

The weekend at the cabin came to an end too quickly, and you found yourself driving back home, the weight of the real world creeping back in. But this time, it felt different.

Leah was in the passenger seat, her hand resting on the center console, palm up. Without thinking, you slipped your fingers into hers. She glanced over at you, her smile soft and full of unspoken promises.

“Do you think people will notice?” you asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

Leah raised an eyebrow. “Notice what?”

“That we’re… different now,” you said, your voice quieter.

Leah’s thumb traced slow circles on the back of your hand. “They’ve always thought we were a couple. Now they’ll just be right.”

You laughed, her words easing your nerves. “Fair point.”

Her tone turned more serious. “We don’t have to tell anyone right away if you’re not ready. This is ours, first and foremost.”

You glanced at her, warmth flooding your chest. “No, I want them to know. I want the world to know.”

Leah’s smile widened, her cheeks tinged pink. “Good. Because I was going to have a hard time not kissing you in public.”

It didn’t take long for Leah’s teammates to figure it out. You showed up at her next match, as you always did, but this time something was different.

When Leah spotted you in the stands, she jogged over after the final whistle and pulled you into a hug—nothing unusual. But then she pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before stepping back, her grin sheepish but unashamed.

You felt your face heat as her teammates began whooping and cheering from the sidelines.

“Finally!” one of them shouted, throwing her arms in the air. “I was starting to think you two would never figure it out!”

Leah rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop smiling. “You lot are ridiculous.”

“But we’re right,” another teammate said, grinning at you. “Welcome to the family, officially.”

When you showed up at Leah’s family home for dinner a week later, her mum took one look at you and grinned.

“So, it’s finally happened,” she said, hands on her hips.

Leah groaned, her face in her hands. “Mum, can we not make this a thing?”

Her mum just laughed, pulling you both into a hug. “Oh, it’s a thing, sweetheart. I’ve been rooting for this since you were kids.”

Leah’s cheeks turned red, but you couldn’t help but laugh. “Guess we were the last ones to know, huh?”

Her mum winked at you. “Better late than never.”

A few weeks later, Leah insisted on taking you out for a proper date. She picked a cozy Italian restaurant, tucked away from the usual crowds.

You sat across from her, your hands intertwined on the table, the candlelight casting soft shadows across her face.

“You’re staring,” she teased, though her own gaze hadn’t left yours.

“Can you blame me?” you shot back, feeling bold.

She laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “I still can’t believe this is real,” she admitted. “That you’re mine.”

“I’ve always been yours,” you said softly.

Her eyes softened, and she squeezed your hand. “And I’ve always been yours.”

As the night went on, you couldn’t help but notice how relaxed she was, her guard completely down in a way you’d only ever seen when it was just the two of you. It felt right—like you’d both finally found the piece of your lives that had been missing.

Months passed, and your relationship only grew stronger. The transition from best friends to partners wasn’t always easy—there were moments of doubt, of learning how to navigate the new dynamic—but you faced it all together.

One quiet evening, you sat on the couch in Leah’s flat, her head resting on your shoulder.

“Do you ever think about what’s next?” she asked suddenly.

You turned to look at her. “What do you mean?”

“Us,” she said, her voice soft. “I mean, we’ve known each other forever, but now… it feels like we’re starting all over again. In a good way.”

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “Whatever’s next, we’ll figure it out together. We always do.”

She grinned, leaning up to kiss you. “I like the sound of that.”

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER TEN ━━ The Introduction

❀ ━ pairing: paige bueckers x oc (jo jacobson)

❀ ━ word count: 5.9K

❀ ━ warnings: allusions to sex, alcohol consumption

❀ ━ links: my masterlist, nobody gets me masterlist

❀ ━ author’s note: hehe

IT’S FRIDAY, December 2nd, and UConn just annihilated Providence. Jo played out of her mind, as she always does. Of course, Paige is proud. Of course she is. But both her performance and the team win can’t really make this might feel like a victory for Paige to bask in. 

Currently, she’s standing in Nika’s kitchen, staring down at the cup full of Everclear in her hand. The liquid inside is dangerous, too strong for her, and yet she’s already downed three or four shots. She doesn’t even like it. In fact, she usually avoids this shit like the plague. But tonight, it’s the only thing she can think of to numb her, the only thing that might be able to quiet the anxious, suffocating storm inside her chest.

It’s almost laughable, really, how predictable she is. How every time Jo does something—breathes, laughs, smiles—Paige feels like she’s suffocating just a little more. It’s insane. They’re best friends. They’ve been living together since May. She’s seen every side of Jo—the silly, the serious, the completely ridiculous.

Well, every side except the one she shares with Asher.

Because Paige still hasn’t met him.

She’s seen all the pictures, of course—the one’s on Jo’s Instagram, the one that Jo has as her lock screen, the one framed in Jo’s family’s house back in Boston, the one perched on Jo’s desk in their apartment. She hears about him a God awful lot, too. She’s seen Jo text him, call him. She’s listened to Jo gush about him and their future while Paige is just… there. Watching Listening. Seeing Jo get lost in that perfect, fairytale love that Paige will never be a part of.

The rest of the team, on the other hand, have already met the damn boy. Back in October, while Paige was in LA rehabbing, he’d come up to visit Jo, and they’d met him. And, of course, they all informed Paige of how kind and charming and absolutely perfect for Jo he was.

And, tonight, it seems that Paige has finally met her dues. Because he’s coming to Ted’s with Jo, to hang out with the team.

Okay, it’s not that Paige wants to hate Asher. He hasn’t done anything to her, not really. She just doesn’t want to see it. Doesn’t want to see the joy and adoration in Jo’s eyes when she’s with him. Doesn’t want to see her look at someone else the way she’ll never look at Paige.

That’s why she’s standing here in Nika’s kitchen, holding the cup of Everclear like it’s a lifeline. She’s downed drink after drink, trying to numb herself before the night really starts. She needs something to take the edge off. Anything to make the world feel a little less sharp, a little less raw.

So, Paige reaches for the bottle again, pouring herself another cup, her hand unsteady from the alcohol already coursing through her veins. She doesn’t even care that she’s probably about to get way too drunk to function. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Not when she’s about to experience first-hand the perfect, romcom, movie-like romance of Jo and Asher.

As Paige pours the drink, she doesn’t even hear Caroline approach. It’s not until the sophomore’s hand wraps around her wrist that Paige jerks back, spilling some of the alcohol across the counter. “Bro!” she exclaims, frustration creeping into her voice as she whips her head to glare at Caroline. “What the hell?”

Caroline narrows her eyes, and the look she gives Paige is one of irritation, not amusement. “What are you doing?” she demands, voice tight. “You’re gonna be wasted before we even get to Ted’s. Besides, you don’t even like this shit!” She gestures to the bottle of Everclear in Paige’s hand, her gaze pointed.

Paige rolls her eyes. “Nah, don’t do that with me, Carol,” she says, her voice flat and cold, the words rolling off her tongue like venom. “I’m older than you. If you wanna mother someone, go find the freshmen.”

Caroline doesn’t flinch at Paige’s outburst. Instead, she just rolls her eyes back, her expression practically dripping with exasperation. Then, with one swift motion, she gives Paige a quick shove on the shoulder, a mockery of affection that’s meant to get her attention but only serves to make Paige more frustrated. “No,” Caroline says, her tone laced with that same tired edge. “I’m gonna mother because clearly you need it!”

The words land like a slap, stinging more than Paige expects. Yes, she knows she’s not being entirely responsible, but also—when has she been? It’s sort of in her nature to be irresponsible, so she’s not sure how this is any different. But is is. And she doesn’t even know why.

There’s a long pause. Too long. It stretches between them like a chasm, and Paige can feel the moment hanging in the air like it’s about to swallow her whole. She thinks Caroline might be done. She thinks the conversation might be over.

But it’s not. Caroline is not finished.

“Look,” the brunette says, her voice gentler now, but still firm. “I know you’re, like, totally in love with Jo and all, but please, Paige, get yourself together.”

Almost instantly, Paige stills. It’s as if the entire world falls silent in an instant. The sound of her pulse fills her ears, louder than anything else. Her mind goes blank for a moment, and then the words slowly filter through. Caroline knows. Paige has been so careful recently to pretend, pretend, pretend. But Caroline’s still seen through it.

Fuck.

“Wha—? How did you know that?” Paige’s voice comes out high-pitched, more frantic than she wants it to be. She feels like she’s suffocating, like she’s about to drown in the truth that’s just been laid bare. “Did Azzi tell you? Aubrey?” The thought of anyone else but the two of them knowing, of anyone else seeing what she’s been trying to hide, is bad. It’s what Paige imagines standing in front of a crowded room, naked, while everyone stares at her would feel like.

Caroline gives her a look. “No, dumbass,” she deadpans. “I figured it out myself. You’re not very subtle.”

As if it were possible, Paige’s stomach seems to drop even more at the simplicity of it all. Because Caroline’s right, just as Aubrey and Azzi both had been. Paige isn’t subtle. She never has been. The way she looks at Jo, the way her face burns every time Jo smiles at her, the way she seems to track everything Jo doesn’t without even meaning to—none of it is subtle.

She groans, a frustrated sound that escapes her before she can stop it. She leans forward, her palms flat against the counter as she rests her forehead against the cool surface. She’s so tired. Tired of pretending, tired of fighting the feeling that never goes away. And now, with Caroline’s words hanging before her, she knows it’s probably only a matter of time before Jo figured it out, too. Before Jo realizes what Paige has been hiding, and everything goes to shit. Jesus Christ, she’s gonna have to transfer.

Caroline doesn’t let the silence linger for too long, though. “Okay, yeah,” she says, her voice softening a little. “I know it sucks. I get it.” She takes a deep breath, and Paige can hear the sympathy in her voice, the understanding. “And I’m sorry you have to see Jo with Asher while you like her. But, please, get yourself together. Because she’s so excited for you to meet him, and if you’re drunk off your mind when you do, you’re probably just gonna embarrass yourself and her. Do you wanna do that?”

Caroline’s right. Of course she is. Paige can imagine herself meeting Asher, entirely wasted, and saying some stupid shit that would have him grimacing at her and Jo flushing with embarrassment over the fact that this drunk girl before them is supposed to be her best friend. It would be wrong and selfish to do that. But it’s gonna be so hard to do it and act normal. She knows she swore she would take Jo in whatever way she’ll give her—and she still stands by that—but that doesn’t mean she has any desire to meet her boyfriend. Because she just doesn’t. She’s truly not sure she can. 

She doesn’t respond right away. Instead, she just stays there, head pressed against the counter, trying to will sway the stupid, hot tears that begin to form in her eyes. She can’t cry here. It’s fucking stupid.

Eventually, after blinking the tears away, Paige begrudgingly shakes her head. “No,” she mutters under her breath, the words barely audible. “I don’t wanna do that.”

Caroline pats her on the back. “That’s what I thought.”

PAIGE LISTENS. She’s being good. She’s only slightly tipsy, every so often taking sips of her Dirty Shirley. She’s doing her best to integrate herself into the team’s conversation around her, despite her uncharacteristic anxiousness. She tries to will her gaze to stop flicking toward the door. It doesn’t work; her mind is already rehearsing every possible scenario when Jo and Asher walk in.

“Aye, JoJo just said they should be here any minute!” Ice says loudly, reading a text off her phone. The rest of the team, half-fueled by the alcohol running through their bloodstream, lets out a few cheers.

Azzi, who’s across from Paige and who Paige can tell is almost entirely sober, meets her eyes. She title her head, giving her a look as if to say you good? The blonde gives her a tight nod. She will be good. She’s gonna keep it together, it’ll be fine. It’s just one night, one introduction. After that, she can pretend none of it matters. She doesn’t need to be anywhere near Asher.

But even as she tells herself that, her pulse begins to quicken, the seconds ticking by too slowly as she waits for the pair to walk through that door. And, when they finally do, it’s not the way she thought it would be. She expected her heart to sink, her breath to catch, but what happens instead is worse. Her skin tingles, and her chest feels too tight, like her ribs are being squeezed, her lungs struggling for air. Jo walks in first, her laugh ringing out across the bar like it’s some beautiful melody that Paige can’t stop hearing. And then there’s Asher, in the flesh, right behind her. His arm is casually draped over Jo’s shoulder, and the two of them look so natural, so right together that it makes Paige feel like she’s been hit with a sucker punch to the gut.

They’re happy. It’s blatantly obvious in the way they move together, the way Asher’s hand rests lightly on Jo’s shoulder, the way they share that easy, carefree smile, as if nothing in the world could ruin this moment for them. Paige’s vision sharpens, the edge of the bar blurring as the urge to shrink away into herself rises up like an overwhelming tide. She wants to leave, to disappear, to drink so much she blacks out and dies.

But she doesn’t. Obviously.

Jo and Asher head straight toward the team, where they stand in the back corner. Paige forces herself to appear nonchalant like always, her back pressed against the bar wall, her fingers gripping the edge of her drink. The others begin to greet the pair quickly, all laughing and chatting with him so easily and fast it almost gives Paige whiplash. Within a minute, he already fits in so seamlessly—and Paige hates if. She hates the way he’s making them all laugh, the way he’s charming without even trying, the way everyone seems to like him so easily. Things would be so much easier for Paige if he was just some shitty douchebag boy.

But then Jo’s eyes find hers, that smile spreading across her face, and all thoughts of the boy flee for a short moment. It’s that smile only for her, only for Paige. She’s reserved it.

Paige feels her heart leap, an automatic reaction that she can’t stop, especially with alcohol in her system. She doesn’t know if Jo can see it, the way her face softens at the sight of her, but Paige knows her smile is already in place, even if it feels a little strained, like her cheeks might crack under the pressure.

Paige watches as Jo grabs onto Asher’s wrist, pulling him so they’re both face to face with Paige. “Paige! This is Asher!” she exclaims excitedly, and it’s adorable, it really is, the way her doe eyes shine at Paige, twinkling.

With some effort, the blonde forces her gaze from Jo to the boy beside her. “Hey, bro,” Paige says, her voice coming out a little higher than she intended, but she doesn’t let it show. She forces the words out, the greeting she’s practiced a thousand times too many.

“Nice to meet you,” she adds. It’s a lie. Of course.

Asher nods, his hand extending to shake hers. It makes everything inside Paige write. He’s not just some asshole she can dismiss; he’s the guy who makes Jo happy. And in the face of that, what does Paige have to offer? Absolutely nothing.

“Yeah, you too,” Asher replies, his smile wide, genuine. Fuck, he really is likable. It makes everything worse. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Stupidly, Paige can feel her heart skip a beat. He’s heard about her. Jo’s talked about her. The thought of it makes her skin flush, and she glances at Jo, who’s standing just a little too close to Asher, her eyes sparkling. There’s a faint blush on her cheeks, just enough for Paige to notice.

Hm.

Jo’s talked about her. Jo’s talked about her. It’s an absurdly stupid thing to obsess over, because, yes, it would only make sense that Jo has talked about her. They’re roommates, for God’s sakes.

But then, just as quickly, it all comes rushing back—the overwhelming knowledge that it just doesn’t matter. Because Jo has Asher.

Paige’s hand in tightens slightly around her drink, and she forces her smile to stay in place. “I bet,” she says, before gesturing to Jo. “She’s a yapper.”

Asher’s grin widens, and he nods in agreement. He glances down at Jo for a moment, and Paige can see the faint sparkle in his own eyes. It makes her sick. “Yeah, she is,” he chuckles. Of course he would know that. He knows everything. Certainly more than Paige (except how to make a girl cum—though, at this point, she supposes it can’t even apply to the situation). But he’s been there. For everything. Since the fucking sandbox days. It’s not something Paige can even remotely compete with.

She needs another drink.

JO SITS awkwardly in the booth at Ted’s, wedged between Asher and Paige. It’s not even that the space is tight—there’s room enough for the three of them, probably room for one more—but the proximity feels off, almost claustrophobic. She shifts in her seat, feeling the edge of Asher’s knee against hers, and Paige’s shoulder brushing lightly against her own. All of it—the heat from their bodies, the weight of their presence—is somehow making her feel small, like there’s no space for her in this conversation.

Asher, ever the extrovert, is holding court with Paige, talking on and on about college football rankings and how Penn State (where he goes to school) is sure to win their bowl game. Jo tries to listen and engage, but the topic doesn’t interest her. Basketball is far superior to football. But she still follows along, because Asher’s so into it, so excited to share his thoughts, and Paige—who, as usual, is completely unfazed by the world around her—responds with that ease that always leaves Jo wanting more.

Jo feels herself sinking lower in the booth, staring at her drink. It’s a cranberry vodka, something that feels sweet on her tongue. She takes another sip—maybe too quickly—and feels the alcohol warm her from the inside out. It helps dull the growing discomfort, but it doesn’t erase it. The tightness in her chest persists, a strange, insistent thing that makes her shift again, trying to find a way to make herself comfortable.

She doesn’t know why she feels this way. She should be happy. She should be enjoying this. After all, she’s the one who was so eager to introduce Asher and Paige, so excited to see her favorite people meet and get along. So why does it feel… wrong now? Why does it feel like she doesn’t belong?

It’s not jealousy. No, not even close. She’s fine with Asher and Paige talking. She’s good with it. She wants them to like each other. She’s been waiting for this, hoping for it. But still… the weight of their conversation feels like it’s too much for her to hear, even if she can’t articulate why. It’s the way they’re so at ease with each other, like they’ve known each other for years, and Jo feels like she’s just a spectator, stuck in the middle. Paige is talking about football like she’s always been passionate about it, and Jo wonders if she even really cares or if she’s just being her usual, charismatic self, making everyone around her feel like they’re the most important person in the room.

She doesn’t know why this feels so weird, so odd. It’s almost as if the booth is too small for the three of them, like either Asher of Paige needs to move out of it so Jo can finally breathe again. She just doesn’t get it.

Asher keeps talking, oblivious to the tension knotting in Jo’s stomach. She can tell he’s enjoying himself, that he’s happy to be here, happy to be connecting with Paige. He’s wanted to ever since he’s realized how close she and Jo are, not to mention the fact that he’s a big fan of Paige’s game—which, valid. And Paige, of course, is just as nonchalant as always. She’s good at this—at making people feel seen and heard, like she’s the only person in the room that matters.

Jo tries to keep her smile in place, but she knows it’s not quite reaching her eyes. Every time Paige laughs, it hits something inside her she can’t explain, some quiet ache. Every time Asher leans in closer to Paige, every time they lock eyes, Jo feels a small, gnawing discomfort in the pit of her stomach. Not jealousy, just… something else. Something she doesn’t want to name.

Paige’s voice cuts through her thoughts, and Jo snaps back to the moment. “I’mma go get another Shirley,” the blonde says easily, pushing herself up from the booth. Jo watches her walk away, feeling a strange sense of relief mixed with the sudden urge to grab Paige’s hand and pull her right back. So weird.

Asher’s voice suddenly cuts through the murmur of chatter, causing Jo’s head to snap toward him. He’s looking at her now, his brow furrowed in that way he gets when he’s concerned. “Babe, you good? You been kinda, like… quiet?”

Jo forces a smile, the expression coming easy enough but feeling unnatural on her lips. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and she can feel it, can feel the way he’s watching her, sensing something is off. Why am I being like this? She doesn’t know.

“Yeah, let’s go dance,” she says, the words sounding too breezy. Asher doesn’t seem to notice, though, his smile brightening. He takes her hand in his, tugging her up from the booth.

They make their way to the dance floor, and Jo feels the heat of the crowd, the heavy bass that vibrates in her chest. She tries to lose herself in it, tries to let the rhythm take over. Asher’s hands find her waist, guiding her gently, pulling her closer as they fall into the music. She moves with him, tries to feel the warmth of his body, the comfort of being with him. It’s weird, though, because the steps feel a little too quick, like she’s trying to make her body fit the rhythm of something that feels off.

Her gaze drifts without meaning to. It’s not even something she consciously does, it just happens, as her eyes scan the room, taking in the crowd of people. And then, they land at the bar.

Paige is there, talking with someone Jo doesn’t recognize at first. But when she squints her eyes, trying to make sense of the redhead leaning over the counter, she realizes it’s Celeste. She watches, captivated for reasons she doesn’t understand, as Celeste leans in closer to Paige, her fingers brushing along Paige’s arm. Jo doesn’t really like that. She should stop watching.

But she doesn’t. And the longer she stares, the more that strange feelings gnaws at her. She can’t tear her gaze away, even though she tries. It’s weird and wrong, Jo knows, watching her best friend cook up her nightly fuck—because, surely, that’s what this is.

And then, just as if she’s been caught, Paige’s eyes meet here. Jo feels her heart skip a beat. Her cheeks instantly flush, her gaze jerking away from Paige’s with an awkwardness she doesn’t understand.

Bur when she dares to glance back, she finds Paige still looking at her, her gaze steady, unwavering. There’s something about the way Paige is staring, like she’s waiting for Jo to react, to do something, anything. Jo feels herself shift uneasily under that gaze, her skin heating as though she’s been caught in something she shouldn’t have been.

She looks away again, closing her eyes briefly as she tries to focus more intently on the movement of Asher’s hands on her hips, on the way he’s leading her in a slow circle. She tries to focus on the feel of his body close to hers, tries to drown out the memory of Paige’s eyes. But Jo’s thoughts are all scattered, her focus slipping like sand through her fingers.

The music changes, the beat shifting, becoming more sensual, slower. Asher leans in closer, his lips brushing against Jo’s ear, and he whispers in that low voice that always makes her shiver, “You wanna go back to yours?”

Jo nods automatically, because, yes, she really needs to leave this place.

As they move through the crowd, heading for the exit, Jo sneaks one last glance at the bar. She’s hoping for something—she doesn’t even know what—but Paige’s attention is elsewhere, focused on Celeste now. Jo feels a pang, but it’s fleeting, and she brushes it off with a shrug, tightening her grip on Asher’s hand.

“I’MMA GO get another Shirley,” Paige says, pushing herself out of the booth before either Jo or Asher can respond. She’s already halfway out by the time the words fully register with them, and she doesn’t wait to hear what they might say. For obvious reasons, talking to Asher has drained her. They’ve been going on and on about football, and it just got to a point. Not to mention the fact that Jo was between them, the whole right side of her body pressed against Asher, his arm casually slung over her shoulders.

Paige tries not to think too hard about it. She’s fine. She’s so fine, in fact, that she decides she needs another drink.

The bar is crowded, but Paige carves her way through the bodies easily. She leans against the counter, resting her forearms on the sticky surface as she flags down the bartender. She orders another Dirty Shirley, and then a shot of tequila because, well, it’s just one of those nights.

Paige exhales and lets herself sink into the moment—the crowd, the pounding bass of the music, the buzz of alcohol in her system. She tries to think about anything but the happy couple she’d been forced to hang out with for far longer than she’d planned.

Her drink arrives, the tequila shot placed next to it. She picks up the shot glass without hesitation, throwing it back quickly. The burn hits her immediately, sharp and biting, but she welcomes it. She needs it. The glass clinks against the bar as she sets it down, and she picks up her Shirley, sipping it to chase the tequila’s lingering heat.

“Hey, P,” a voice says from beside her, catching her off guard.

Paige turns, her brown furrowing for a split second before her expression smooths out. It’s Celeste. Of course.

“Hey,” Paige says casually, as if the sight of the redhead doesn’t throw her a little off balance for a moment. She’s not surprised Celeste is here—she’s always around. She’s also not surprised when Celeste slides closer, her lips curving into a smile that Paige knows all too well.

“You celebrating the win?” Celeste asks, her voice light, flirtatious. Paige has to give her credit, if she’s honest, because, really, this girl never gives up, no matter how hot and cold Paige is.

And, if Paige is even more honest, Celeste looks good. Better than good. She’s wearing some kind of black corset top that pushes her tits up in a way that’s impossible not to notice, her bright red hair perfectly blown out, and her makeup flawless even in the hazy lighting of Ted’s.

“Something like that,” Paige replies, her words accompanied by a small shrug. She takes another sip of her drink, letting the alcohol settle over her like a warm blanket.

Celeste doesn’t waste any time. She leans forward, her hand brushing against Paige’s arm in a way that’s calculated. “You looked good on the bench tonight. I posted a couple shots that the cameras got of you,” she says lowly.

Paige nearly snorts at the words—you looked good on the bench tonight. That’s what she’s been reduced to, a pretty bench-warmer, too injured and useless to be anywhere but on it. But she doesn’t laugh. Because she knows exactly what Celeste is doing. And under normal circumstances, she might be annoyed—Celeste has a habit of getting too attached, of acting like there’s more between them than there really is. But tonight, Paige is a little drunk, a little tired, and more than a little tempted to let herself fall into the distraction Celeste is offering. She was already planning on fucking someone tonight, and Celeste? Well, she’s right here, looking like that. Why not?

So, Paige smiles, tilting her head just slightly, enough to give the redhead the impression that she’s been hooked. “Yeah?” she says playfully, teasingly. “Didn’t know you were paying that much attention.”

Celeste laughs a little, leaning even closer, and Paige can feel the way her fingers linger on her arm. She plays along, letting herself fall into the conversation, the push and pull of flirtation. It’s easier to think about other things.

But, of course, somehow, her focus still seems to slip.

Over Celeste’s shoulder, Paige catches a glimpse of the dance floor. Her eyes find Jo and Asher almost instantly, like she was looking for them without even realizing it. They’re dancing, their bodies close, their smiles easy. They look happy. They look like they belong together. And it makes Paige want to puke.

She tries to look away, tries to focus on Celeste, on the warmth of her hand still on her arm, on the sharp curve of her smile. But she can’t. Her eyes keep drifting back to Jo, drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

And then, suddenly, Jo looks over. Their eyes meet across the room, and Celeste blurs into the background beside Paige like she was never even there. Paige should look away, should stop staring. But she doesn’t. Her eyes stay locked on Jo’s, rooted there.

But then Jo breaks the connection, her gaze shifting away, and Paige is left staring at nothing. She feels an idiotic pang, and forced herself to take another sip of her drink.

Celeste seems to notice, her head turning to follow Paige’s line of sight. Her eyes land on Jo and Asher, and she tilts her head as she turns back to Paige. “Is that Jo’s boyfriend?” she asks.

Paige nods. “Yup. His name’s Asher.” She forces her voice to sound calm and unaffected, even though saying his name feels like she’s choking on something too sharp to swallow.

Celeste hums slowly in response. She pauses for a moment, and Paige can feel her gaze, sharp and curious, boring into her. “So… you and Jo are, like, best friends, right?” Her tone is casual, but there’s something suspicious laced beneath it, like she’s fishing for something Paige doesn’t want to give.

Paige nods again, slower this time, turning her head to glance at Celeste. “Yeah…” she says, the word dragging out of her like it takes effort to say. She wonders where this is going.

“Well,” Celeste begins, tipping her shot glass back and setting it down with a faint clink. “I ask her about you sometimes, and she never really gives me a clear answer. I can tell she tries to be nice to me, but it doesn’t really seem like she likes me much.”

Paige raises an eyebrow at that, her instinct to defend Jo kicking in automatically. “Nah, Jo likes everyone,” she says, waving Celeste off with a dismissive hand. And it’s true—Jo does like everyone.

But Celeste shakes her head, her red hair catching the light. “I don’t know,” she says thoughtfully. “For a while, I kinda thought you and her were a thing.”

The words hit Paige like a slap, and she chokes on the sip of her Shirley she just took, coughing as she sets her glass down hard on the bar. “What—?” she manages to get out, her voice rough and disbelieving. Her heart is pounding so loudly in her chest she’s sure Celeste can hear it.

Celeste shrugs, her expression almost too nonchalant, like she knows exactly what kind of chaos she’s causing. “Yeah. I mean, I guess I just kinda got that vibe. But if she’s got a boyfriend and we’ve fucked a couple times recently… I guess I was wrong.”

Paige blinks at her, wide-eyed. “You definitely were,” she says quickly, the words tumbling out too fast, too eager to set the record straight. Her face is flushed, and she can feel the heat crawling up her neck. “We’re just friends. Nothing more. At all.”

The words feel heavy in her mouth, bitter and thick. They’re not a lie, no matter how much Paige sometimes wishes it could be.

She doesn’t miss the way Celeste studies her, her green eyes narrowing slightly, like she’s trying to figure out if Paige is telling the truth. Paige hates how exposed she feels, like someone on the outside—someone as far removed as Celeste—can somehow sense the mess of feelings she’s been trying so hard to bury.

She forces herself to take a large gulp of her Shirley, the alcohol doing little to ease the tightness in her stomach. When she glanced back at the dance floor, her eyes automatically searched for Jo, she realizes that she’s—and Asher—are gone from their previous spot.

Her gaze flickers around the bar, scanning the corners, but they’re nowhere to be found. Probably went to go fuck, she thinks bitterly. Even though she has insight now that Asher is basically terrible at it, the idea still makes Paige want to die.

But she doesn’t. Obviously.

Instead, she finishes the last of her drink, turning her attention back to the girl next to her, forcing her signature smirk back onto her lips. Jo’s gone, busy with him, and Paige doesn’t owe anyone anything.

She leans into the conversation, matching Celeste’s flirtation with her own, their banter growing looser and bolder with each drink they down. The alcohol is certainly doing it’s job, blurring the edges of her thoughts, making everything feel distant and less painful.

Unexpectedly, Paige ends up in Celeste’s bed. And, also unexpectedly, she thinks about brown hair and doe eyes during the entirety of it.

JO LIES tangled in the sheets with Asher, her head resting on his bare chest, his arm wrapped around her back. It’s around four, she thinks, and the world outside feels impossibly quiet at this hour, the kind of stillness that comes only in the dead of night. Asher’s fingers trace slow, lazy patterns along her shoulder, his touch featherlight and soothing.

The haze of the night has mostly worn off now—the alcohol burned away by time, replaced by a comfortable clarity that feels almost foreign after hours of noise and chaos. It’s just the two of them now, alone in her room, their breaths in sync, the moment easy and weightless and familiar.

Jo closes her eyes, letting herself drift in the warmth of his presence, but her mind doesn’t quiet as easily as her body does. It’s almost like something beneath the surges won’t let her fully settle. It’s not unease, exactly. Not suspicion. Just… something. A restlessness she can’t name.

“Okay, I gotta piss,” Asher says suddenly, breaking the silence.

Jo snorts, her eyes fluttering open as she turns her head to look up at him. “Way to ruin the moment,” she teases, though her voice is laced with affection.

Asher grind down at her, unapologetic as he shifts, moving to sit up on the edge of the bed. “Nature calls,” he jokes. He starts to stand, but Jo catches his wrist, tugging him back down for just a second.

“Put some clothes on first,” she reminds him. “Paige got back a little bit ago.” She’d heard the door open, the quiet shuffle of footsteps as Paige made her way to her room. It was probably a half an hour ago, maybe less, and Jo had listened, wondering how Paige’s night had gone, whether she’d been alone or gone back with the team or left with Celeste.

Asher groans playfully, leaning down to peck Jo’s lips. “I will, I will,” he promises, his voice low and warm.

Jo rolls her eyes but can’t help the soft laugh truth escapes her. “You’d better,” she says, swatting lightly at his bare chest.

He smirks before gathering his clothes from the floor. Jo watches him for a moment, her head propped on her hand, a faint smile tugging at her lips despite herself. He looks good, his hair messy, his lips still swollen pink from all the kissing. And he’s here—he’s always been hers. She knows she should feel lucky.

When he leaves the bedroom to disappear into the bathroom, Jo sighs and sits up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. The cool air against her skin makes her shiver, so she grabs the first things she can find—a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants from her drawer. She pulls them on quickly, then settles back on the bed, folding her legs beneath her as she waits for Asher to return.

The sharp buzz of a phone notification catches her attention, the sound loud in the quiet.

Instinctively, Jo reaches over to the nightstand, assuming it’s hers. She picks up the phone without thinking, the screen lighting up in her hand—and stops short.

The message isn’t hers.

Her heart stills in her chest, her breath halting for a moment as she stares at the screen. Without thinking, she presses on the contact, scrolling and scrolling and scrolling, unraveling everything she thought she knew in an instant.

She doesn’t notice the sound of the bathroom door opening, doesn’t register Asher’s footsteps until they’re right at her bedroom door.

And then she hears his voice, soft and unsuspecting. “What’s wrong?”

[jadeshifting]

— SCRIPTING YOUR FAMILY. ( i swear it can work even if they’re not dead )

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— DISCLAIMER. script what you want !! this isn’t judgement or an attempt to convince you of anything. i still have ded family in some realities, don’t worry :^)

alright, so a lot of shifters skip right to scripting their DR families straight into the afterlife. gone, nonexistent, dead and buried. this is for a myriad of reasons, though for me and everyone i know, it has a lot to do with backstory, or the idea that family ties are going to cramp our style or get in the way of our dream life and the plot. but, for anyone who’s interested, let’s flip the script (pun intended) and talk about why creating an original, unique family for your desired reality can actually make your experience richer, more meaningful, and a whole lot more fun !!

WHY KEEP THE FAMILY DRAMA?

first off, let’s address the elephant in the room: family can be a lot. but scripting them out entirely can be like throwing the baby out with the bathwater !! there’s tons of potential to consider there. a family offers plenty of opportunities to add depth, lore, and a whole bunch of emotional layers to your DR. think about it—what’s a life without a little family drama, a bit of cozy love, or even a quirky aunt who always brings the laughs? it doesn’t have to be a big, happy family—it can be whatever you feel like you need, whatever fits

HOW TO BUILD YOUR DR FAMILY

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— SIZE MATTERS ( but not really ) .　　. 　 ˚　. when scripting your DR family, start with size. do you want a big, loud, chaotic family with siblings running around, or something closer to a small, tight-knit crew? maybe you’re an only child who’s the apple of your parents’ eyes, or perhaps you’re in the middle of a bustling household where everyone’s got a role to play. there’s no right or wrong—just what feels right for you, and what you feel like you need in that specific DR

— CHOOSE YOUR ROLES .　　. 　 ˚　. who’s in your family? a loving, supportive mom who’s your biggest cheerleader? a cool dad who’s kind of your best friend? maybe a set of grandparents who tell you the most insane stories about their youth, or a mouthy sibling who keeps you on your toes. think about the roles that would enrich your life in your DR. remember, these people are there to support your life, not unnecessarily complicate it

— CONNECTIONS .　　. 　 ˚　. now, here’s where it gets fun (in my opinion): your relationships. are you super close with your mom, the kind of close where you can endlessly gossip and have deep life talks? is your dad the type to give you space but always manages to have your back when it counts? maybe you have an insane sibling rivalry that spans over a decade. the relationships you script can add so much flavor to your DR—it’s all about creating connections that resonate with you, and support you in all the ways you want to be supported

FITTING INTO THE LORE ( making it make sense )

if your DR has a specific lore or world-building element ( Hogwarts, Marvel, etc. you know ), weave your family into it !! maybe your mom’s a legendary witch, or your dad’s a top Auror. perhaps your family runs a magical bakery, or you’re part of an ancient lineage with a complex magical or academic heritage. the point is, your family should feel at home in your DR, adding to the story rather than feeling like an afterthought that detracts from it

SOME IDEAS FOR YOUR DR FAMILY

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( just to get you started )

— MAGICAL LINEAGE .　　. 　 ˚　. your family has a rich history tied to your DR’s lore—maybe you’re descendants of a powerful wizard, or you’ve got a long-standing feud with another powerful family. drama

— ECCENTRIC GROUP .　　. 　 ˚　. a family full of eccentric or seemingly ridiculous people—a dad who invents magical gadgets, a mom who’s an expert potion maker, siblings who are always concocting some mischievous or downright strange plans

— TIGHT-KNIT TEAM .　　. 　 ˚　. quiet and likely unassuming—just a small, close family who’s been through everything together together. you lot might not be flashy, but their love and support are solid and you know you can always count on them

— CHAOTIC CLAN .　　. 　 ˚　. a massive, bustling family where everyone’s got their own unique role. maybe you’ve got siblings with vastly different personalities, parents that always have something insane to say, or aunts and uncles hailing from faraway places. family gatherings are always an ordeal

DON’T STRESS THE DETAILS

here’s the deal: scripting your DR family is about enhancing your experience, not stressing you out or detracting from all the things you wanna do. whether you want to create a sprawling family tree or just script a few key members, it’s all up to you. and remember—at the end of the day, your DR is personal to you. it’s about what makes you feel connected, supported, and ready to dive into the adventure of a lifetime

so, build that dream family !! whether they’re magical, mundane, or somewhere in between, totally supportive or bringing never-ending drama to spice things up, at the end of the day they’re there to add richness and depth to your DR. and trust me, it’ll make your journey all the more special if you let it !!

　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　

[clesired]

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐀 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘 | 𝐆𝐄𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘 !

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 ! “can i request a george weasley x reader where she’s harry’s sister? set in the goblet of fire?” thank you to the lovely anon who requested this <3

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ! fun fact: no one loves harder than a weasley!

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ! no warnings, fluff, comfort ( reader big sister-ing harry ), gryffindor potter fem!reader, established relationship, second person pov, 1.7k words!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You watch as your little brother storms through the doors of the Great Hall, Hermione hot on his heels.

You want to move—but you’re torn between chasing after Harry and his angel of a best friend, or turning around and hexing his dimwitted doorknob of another.

Ever since Harry’s name was pulled out of the Goblet of Fire, it’s like the whole school has turned on him. And no one worse than his very own best mate, Ron Weasley.

And of course when Ron is upset, everyone else has to be too.

He’d started a row with Harry in the middle of breakfast, and when he’d lost it on Hermione for stepping in and defending your brother—Harry had reached his limit and walked away. No doubt because he’d been seconds away from socking Ron a good one.

And you’re honestly not too far behind him, but your big sister instincts ultimately win out and you rush out of the hall in hopes of catching up to the younger Gryffindors before they’re out of sight.

Your head swivels from left to right as soon as you burst through the doors, but to no success. And with the amount of hidden passageways and corridors in this castle—you’re shite out of luck.

So caught up in looking for any clues as to which way they may have gone, you completely miss the arrival of another person.

“C’mon, sweetheart—there’s no use looking for them now.” George’s voice rings out gently as he steps in front of you. His large hand falls to your shoulder and squeezes, a familiar feeling that calms you.

You lean into his touch—seeking his comfort, but shake your head in denial. “I have to try, Georgie. He’s my brother.”

“He’ll be alright, sweetheart. Hermione’s got him.” He murmurs against your hairline as he places a gentle kiss on your forehead, his hand rubbing up and down your arm soothingly.

“You hardly even touched your plate before mini Potter was storming off. Come back and eat. Give him some time to cool off, yeah?” He coaxes gently and you let out a soft sigh.

“If I go back in there now, I’m afraid you’ll be walking out with one less brother.” You murmur quietly as you look up at him, earning a soft chuckle from your boyfriend.

“That’s okay, still got four of ‘em left.” He jokes quietly, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Besides, I’m pretty sure Ginny’s beat you to it, darling.”

That makes you smile, and you pull away from him to peer at the doors—as if trying to see through them.

“She throw a Bat-Bogey yet?” You ask curiously, the smile on your face a testament to how upset you are with Ron right now.

Normally, you’re like two peas in a pod—mainly because Ron knows if he’s on your good side, George won’t prank him.

You know that’s the real reason he talks to you, but you don’t really care.

Ron can be particularly nasty if he’s on bad terms with a person—proven by this morning’s lovely show, and you’d rather not deal with that sort of nuisance; so you entertain him.

But all of that is out the window now. Ron has gone too far this time—accusing Harry of deliberately putting his name in the Goblet of Fire and cheating. As if he needs another threat to his life after all that he’s already been through. Ridiculous.

“Not yet, but her hand was looking pretty twitchy before I ran out.” George’s voice is laced in amusement now, as he comes up behind you and gently steers you toward the Great Hall.

You smile softly. “You always know what to say to make me feel better.”

George chuckles. “Comes with the job of being your boyfriend, sweetheart. One promise of Weasley-on-Weasley violence, check.”

“Well now that makes me feel bad.” You frown softly as you walk through the doors.

“Don’t. He had it coming.” He squeezes you gently before smirking. “And plus—Fred and I have been waiting for an excuse to prank ickle Ronniekins without making you mad.”

As the Gryffindor table comes back into view and you find that Ginny has in fact casted an absolute wicked Bat-Bogey Hex while you were gone, you smile.

George’s words ring in your ear as a thought occurs and you turn to look at him—momentarily ignoring the chaos the flying bats are causing among the students and staff.

“You know what? Consider him out of my protection. You and Fred can prank him as much as you want from now on.” You declare.

This will be your get back at Ron for being a little shite to Harry. Only you are allowed to be mean to your little brother and get away with it.

George positively beams down at you as he places a fat kiss against your forehead and then looks over to his twin.

“Hear that, Freddie!? My witch gave us the go ahead on ickle Ronniekins!” He shouts, and you can’t help but laugh as you watch Fred pump his fists in triumph.

As you settle down at the table beside George and watch the Professors struggle to help Ron fight off the bats, you scan the table until you find Colin Creevey.

“Colin!” You call out, gaining his attention. “Do me a favour and take a picture of this, yeah? I’m sure Harry’s gonna love it.”

The amused smile on your little brother’s face when he looks at the picture later that day in the common room proves you correct.

“Figured since you couldn’t be there to see it in all its glory, I could get you the next best thing.” You shrug casually, before smirking.

“Oh, and the twins are working on a few ideas to make Ron’s life a bit more…entertaining for the next few weeks.” You say lightly.

Harry looks up to where Fred and George are sitting at a table, quietly discussing as they both pour over a parchment.

After a moment, he turns to smile at you, all traces of anger due to Ron’s awful behaviour absent from his expression—at least for the time being, until Ron inevitably opens his mouth again.

“You’re a great big sister, you know that?” Harry says quietly, and you chuckle.

“Obviously. We Potters never do anything by halves.” You smirk.

“Except for boyfriends!” George suddenly calls out as he looks up from the table and winks at you. “Get it, sweetheart? Because you’re dating a twin?”

You shake your head in fond amusement as you look at your boyfriend. “I got it, Georgie.” You smile, holding back a laugh.

He blows you an air kiss and you catch it before blowing one back in return. He smirks, before you both refocus on your respective brothers.

Harry is already looking at you by the time your head turns, and his smile is smaller now—but also softer.

“George is good for you. I’m glad you have him.” He says quietly, and you feel your heart warm.

By the time your little brother had entered Hogwarts, you and George had already been dating—and with all the crazy shenanigans that’s been going on ever since Harry’s first year…you two never really had a conversation about how he felt about it.

You know he never had a problem with your relationship—he would’ve said something if he had; but to actually hear him verbally approve you and George fills you with a particular joy you only ever feel when it involves your boyfriend.

“I’m glad I have him too.” You murmur softly as you glance back at the aforementioned wizard.

“No one loves harder than a Weasley, you know.” You add on as you look back at your brother.

“No one hates harder than one too, apparently.” He grumbles, and just like that—his face is darkening all over again as he thinks of Ron.

You sigh softly and wrap your arm around his shoulder, smiling when he lets you. The Dursleys did their number on the both of you, but it was worse for Harry—with physical touch being one of the things he sometimes gets a little finicky about.

Both you and Hermione have been working overtime throughout the years to get him used to it, and you’re proud to say that the progress is there.

Harry’s first instinct is to usually shy away from touch when he’s angry, but rather than pull away this time—he leans into your warmth.

“Ron is…Ron, and I have no doubt that Hermione can and probably already has given you a more in depth explanation on why he’s being a prat—so I won’t even bother trying.” You smile gently, before continuing.

“But what I will tell you is that sometimes friends fight. And it’s messy and it sucks, but it also strengthens the bond between you.” You pat him consolingly.

“I’m not saying you two are gonna make up tomorrow—even I know Ron’s too much of a git for that. But you will eventually.”

“How can you know that, though?” Harry asks quietly.

You shrug gently. “Call it big sister instinct, or the fact that you two have been through more things together in the past three years than most people go through in a lifetime. Whatever it is, you two are going to be just fine.”

Harry relaxes at that, and as the twins join you on the couch—George pulling you into his lap, and Hermione comes bursting through the common room rambling about what she read in the library about the Triwizard Tournament rules—you look back at your brother.

He’s watching the twins—who are now rattling off ideas to Hermione about how to get him out of the tournament, and you can tell that he’s touched by their efforts.

You lean into Harry to give him one last word of big sister advice. “Ron’s poor behaviour is more than upsetting, but he’ll come around eventually. In the meantime—you’ve got a pretty solid group of friends right here.”

You gesture to Hermione and the twins, and hold up the picture of Ginny casting a Bat-Bogey at Ron.

It’s not lost on either of you that three of the four people you pointed out are Weasleys, and Harry smirks.

“No one loves harder than a Weasley, indeed.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ! its actually criminal that i dont have my own george, smh. i hope you lovelies enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

©clesired - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

xoxo,

mila! *: ･🐚༄🫧*ੈ✩

[fangdokja]

The sweetest kisses are often the most dangerous.

❤︎ Synopsis. Your best friend has always been your safe haven—until his touch lingers too long, his words drip with unspoken threats, and you realize too late that safety was never part of his plan.

♡ Book. World Ablaze (WA): For You, I'd Burn the World.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Light Yagami x Reader

♡ Novella. In the Name of Love - Part 2

♡ Word Count. 7,794

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, general non-con, possessiveness, psychological manipulation and conditioning, suggestive themes, fear play, emotional manipulation and abuse, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, BDSM, manipulation of circumstances, abandonment issues, angst + tragedy, gaslighting

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr content guidelines involving minors, some plot details of the original story were changed to fit the platform. If you want the true original story, please look at the author's official website or Ao3.

♡ A/N. This is a request, but I have not yet fulfilled the full request (hence the lack of proof of request). This turned out better than I thought it would. No explicit stuff yet, but the subtly of it? Yeahh.

Once you finally became of age, it brought with it a new set of challenges—and some old, familiar dynamics. Light Yagami, your self-proclaimed best friend and eternal tormentor, had somehow grown into the golden child of your school. Teachers adored him, parents praised him, and students—especially the girls—flocked to him like moths to a flame.

You, on the other hand, remained firmly in your lane. A slacker by nature and a ‘loser’ by reputation, you floated through school just barely scraping by. Your grades hovered just above the failing mark, your desk was perpetually cluttered, and your teachers sighed in resignation every time you turned in a half-finished worksheet.

“How are you two even friends?” became a question whispered in every corner of the school.

———

Light, of course, handled his popularity with the effortless charm he’d always had. Girls left love notes in his locker, baked him cookies, and blushed when he smiled their way. He’d already received more confessions than most people would in a lifetime.

“Another one?” you’d ask flatly whenever he showed you a new letter, scrawled in pink ink and dotted with hearts.

“They’re very persistent,” he’d say with a smirk, tucking the letter away. “You jealous?”

“Not even remotely,” you replied, your attention already back on the handheld game console in your lap. “Have fun with your fan club, Your Highness.”

———

For a while, Light balanced his new relationships with his time spent with you. He’d date the occasional girl, give her his full attention for a while, then inevitably move on when the novelty wore off.

“Why do you even bother?” you asked once, sprawled on the grass during one of your cloud-watching sessions.

“Because it’s good practice,” he replied matter-of-factly, hands tucked behind his head as he stared at the sky.

“Practice?”

“For social dynamics,” he explained. “Understanding how people think, what they want, and how to navigate their expectations. It’s useful.”

“You sound like a robot,” you said, unimpressed.

Light smirked. “You’re just mad I’m right.”

———

When the girls dragged him away, as they often did, you were left to your own devices. You didn’t mind—at least, that’s what you told yourself. It wasn’t like you’d ever been the center of attention, anyway. Loneliness wasn’t new to you; it was just an old companion that came and went as it pleased.

You filled the time with your usual distractions: gaming, reading, cloud watching, and sketching mindless doodles in the margins of your notebooks. Sometimes, you’d overhear whispers about Light and his admirers, but you tuned them out.

“Why don’t you go after him?” someone asked you once, their tone half-curious, half-mocking.

You didn’t even look up. “Because I’m not an idiot.”

———

Despite the distance his popularity sometimes created, Light always found his way back to you. When the crowds cleared and the noise died down, it was the two of you again—two opposites bound by years of shared history.

One evening, as you both sat in your room playing video games, he glanced over at you and said, “You’re not mad about the other girls, right?”

“Why would I be mad?” you replied, not taking your eyes off the screen. “You’re Light Yagami, the golden child. Go do your thing. I’m good.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. Then, with a small smirk, he said, “You’re impossible, you know that?”

You grinned. “Takes one to know one.”

No matter how far his orbit expanded, Light always seemed to come back to you. And though you’d never say it out loud, you were glad he did.

────────────

From Light Yagami’s perspective, life was predictable—and predictably successful. He was the golden child, the perfect student, the center of admiration. People hung on his every word, sought his approval, and envied his effortless excellence. For the most part, it was satisfying. Life unfolded as it should, meticulously planned and executed.

But then there was you.

His so-called best friend, the antithesis of everything he represented. Lazy, unmotivated, and perpetually on the fringes of mediocrity. Despite your differences, you were always there—silent, sarcastic, yet strangely dependable in a way he couldn’t quite define. It wasn’t something he thought about too often. You were just…you.

Until the day he noticed you staring.

———

It was during lunch, an ordinary afternoon where Light was half-listening to the chatter of his friends while methodically organizing his notes for the next class. His focus should’ve been on the conversation, but his gaze flickered to you, seated a few tables away as usual.

You were always in the corner, avoiding attention, engrossed in some book or game. But today, your attention wasn’t on the usual distractions. It was on him.

Not Light. Not one of his admirers. No, your focus was fixed on a scrawny, nervous wreck of a kid seated a few tables over.

The boy was all sharp angles and awkward movements, perpetually hunched over as though trying to shrink into himself. Light recognized him vaguely—a shy, nerdy kid who tripped over his own words whenever called upon. Nothing remarkable.

Yet, you watched him.

Not with mockery or disdain, but with something quieter, more intent. You weren’t laughing, whispering, or rolling your eyes like most people would. You just…observed.

It unsettled Light in a way he couldn’t immediately place.

———

Later, as he packed his bag and prepared for the next class, Light’s thoughts returned to that scene. He prided himself on his ability to read people, to predict their behavior and motivations. And yet, he had no explanation for your interest in that boy.

He brushed it off initially. What did it matter? You were free to stare at whoever you wanted.

But the image lingered, uninvited, in his mind: the distant look in your eyes, the way your usually indifferent demeanor softened just slightly.

He frowned, closing his notebook with a bit more force than necessary.

———

The following week, he started paying more attention. It was subtle—Light was nothing if not discreet—but he kept you in his peripheral vision whenever he could.

And there it was again.

That same quiet, almost contemplative look as you glanced at the boy in question.

Light found himself growing irritated, though he couldn’t pinpoint why. It wasn’t like he cared who you watched. You had your own life, and he had his.

So why did it bother him?

———

He thought back to the countless times he’d teased you about being jealous of his popularity, the playful smirk on his face as he’d waved off another confession or accepted a gift from yet another admirer. You never cared. Not once.

It had been mildly disappointing, in retrospect. He’d thought it might get a rise out of you, but you never so much as flinched.

Yet here you were, paying attention to some no-name boy like he was the most fascinating thing in the world.

Light’s fingers tightened around the strap of his bag. It didn’t make sense.

Not yet, at least. But Light Yagami didn’t like questions without answers.

He decided then and there that he’d find out what had caught your attention—and why it left him feeling so uncharacteristically unsettled.

────────────

Light never let himself get too attached to anything, at least not to the point where it would affect his plans. He had control over his emotions—he had to. And yet, as he watched you sit with Ethan, that crack in his composed facade began to form, slowly but surely.

It was subtle at first. The boy, Ethan, always seemed to be at the edges of Light's awareness, always there when Light was distracted by his admirers or lost in his own thoughts. But this was different.

You didn’t just sit with him. You spent time with him. You helped him with his homework. You joked around with him in the way you never did with anyone else. You went out of your way to keep him company at lunch, when no one else would. You, who had always kept your distance, kept your circle small—yet now you were investing time in him of all people.

And Light hated it.

There was no reason for it. It didn’t make sense. Ethan wasn’t even someone worth considering. He was shy, weak, and socially awkward. Everything about him screamed mediocrity, the kind of person who would never stand out, never make anything of themselves. So why? Why were you helping him? Why were you treating him like he mattered?

Light had always been the one to push you, to help you improve, to get you to rise above your own mediocrity. He'd worked tirelessly to shape you, to make you better. And now, here you were, giving that same attention—your valuable attention—to someone who didn’t even deserve it.

But then, as he continued to observe you two from the sidelines, the truth started to unfold, albeit in a way that made him recoil. He couldn’t stop it from clicking into place. You didn’t see Ethan for what he was now. You saw him for what you used to be.

He reminded you of yourself.

The realization hit Light like a wave. You hadn’t always been the person you were today—motivated, sharp, and at least somewhat capable. No, you’d been the same kind of outcast Ethan was now. Alone. Invisible.

And you saw a part of yourself in him, that small, quiet echo of who you used to be.

You wanted to help him. You had to help him.

Light would have expected a feeling of satisfaction, even a touch of flattery. After all, you cherished your experiences with Light enough to want to help someone like Ethan, someone who reminded you of the person Light had pulled you from. But it didn’t feel like that. It didn’t feel warm or appreciative. It felt... cold. It felt harsh and bitter, like the sting of jealousy he’d never fully acknowledged before.

Why? Why was it this way? Why didn’t he feel proud that you were helping someone who could never repay you?

He hated it. He hated how it made him feel, how his thoughts twisted and spiraled into something darker.

———

Light tried to keep himself composed, but it was becoming more difficult. As the days passed, and he saw more of you with Ethan, that unease continued to eat at him. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but it was growing harder to ignore.

If he confronted you about it, it would mean acknowledging something he wasn’t ready to face. Something he couldn’t process. He wanted to think it was just about Ethan. But deep down, Light knew it wasn’t. He knew it wasn’t about the boy at all. It was about you—and the way you were slipping further away from him.

He was jealous.

It was ridiculous. He of all people, jealous of someone like Ethan?

But he couldn’t ignore it. It hurt.

So, he buried it. He buried it like everything else—like the ambition he’d always kept under wraps, like grand plans where he couldn’t afford to falter. He buried it deep down, pretending it didn’t bother him, pretending that you could still be his, that your attention was his, even as you drifted to someone else.

There were moments when he almost confronted you, asked you why you were so hell-bent on helping someone so insignificant, but he held back. Instead, he bit his tongue, letting the resentment simmer inside, like a serpent coiling around his thoughts.

It was a feeling he couldn’t quite place, but one he couldn’t escape. And for once in his life, he hated not having control over it.

────────────

It had been a month, a whole month, of Light trying his best to suppress the gnawing frustration and resentment. On the surface, life carried on as usual—he kept up his studies, dated other people, spent time with you, pretended everything was fine. It was routine. Everything was routine. But underneath, something had shifted. Something that made everything feel hollow.

He’d watched Ethan grow in confidence, all because of you. He couldn’t deny it. Ethan had improved significantly—he spoke up more, stood taller, even started getting more attention from others. And Light hated it. Hated how he had been replaced, how your attention, once reserved for him, was now shared with Ethan.

You didn’t even notice, though. You were too absorbed in your "little project," as you called it. You genuinely wanted to help Ethan, and it was clear to everyone, Light included, that you had. You were kind to him in a way you had never been with anyone else, and though it made Light’s stomach churn, he couldn’t argue with the results. Ethan had gone from an anxious, nervous wreck to someone who could hold a conversation, someone who felt like he had a place in the world.

But all of that—the improvement, the attention, the support—it was nothing compared to the point of no return.

The moment it all cracked open for Light was when he saw Ethan, of all people, trying to kiss you. Trying to confess to you. In that moment, every bit of control Light had over his emotions snapped. All of the jealousy, all of the uncertainty, the fear that he might lose you to someone else, came crashing down in a split second.

Ethan had moved closer to you, his hand reaching out toward your face. You were looking at him in that quiet, gentle way you always did when you were being supportive, completely unaware of how things had changed. Light’s heart raced, his chest tight, suffocating with a mix of jealousy and... something deeper. Something he couldn’t ignore anymore.

Without thinking, he moved. He didn’t care how it looked, didn’t care that it would make him seem possessive or irrational. He couldn’t let this go any further. Not now, not when he hadn’t even had the chance to process it himself.

“Hey,” Light’s voice was sharp, cutting through the tension between you and Ethan. His hand shot out to grab Ethan’s wrist before it could get any closer. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

Ethan recoiled slightly, a mix of confusion and disappointment flashing across his face. You looked between the two of them, still unaware of what had just happened.

“Light?” you said, voice confused. “What’s going on?”

Light forced a smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He tried to maintain his usual cool demeanor, tried to act like nothing was wrong, but his mind was racing. His heart was pounding in his chest. “Nothing,” he said smoothly, his voice casual. “I just thought it was a little too soon. You don’t have to rush things with him, do you?”

He kept his gaze on Ethan, the mask of indifference slipping in place. It was all too easy to be the confident, charismatic Light Yagami in front of others, but inside, something was boiling. He wasn’t ready to admit it—not to you, not to himself—but it was there. A slow-burning ache. The realization that he might actually care more than he’d allowed himself to believe.

And he hated it. Hated how unstable it made him.

You seemed to brush it off, distracted by the sudden interruption, and shifted your focus back to the situation at hand, oblivious to the internal war happening inside him. Light gave Ethan one final look, sharp and piercing, before letting go of his wrist, silently warning him to back off.

“Let’s get back to work,” Light said, his voice cool and collected, as if nothing had happened. His smile was back, a perfect mask to hide what was really going on. “There’s no need for any of that, alright?”

Ethan nodded, visibly uncomfortable, and after a moment, he stepped away. Light watched him leave, his gaze lingering a little too long, as if to make sure Ethan didn’t try anything else.

When the two of you were alone again, Light tried to act normal. He even teased you lightly about it, making some comment about how you were apparently too irresistible for Ethan. But beneath it all, the feeling stayed with him, thick and suffocating. The truth was there, buried deep inside.

He wasn’t ready to face it. He wasn’t ready to admit it to you. But Light was starting to realize just how much you meant to him. And for the first time, he wasn’t sure how to deal with it.

So, he buried it again. He kept the mask in place. He pretended it was just a moment of concern, just a protective instinct over his best friend. He’d dealt with worse. He’d always dealt with worse.

But as the days went by, the pressure continued to mount. And no matter how hard he tried to push it down, that little crack inside him was only getting wider.

────────────

Light was a master of subtlety, an architect of unseen movements in the intricate game of social dynamics. He didn’t need to manipulate overtly—he understood that power wasn’t in direct control, but in the delicate nudging of events, in guiding people without them ever realizing they were being guided. And so, when it came to you and Ethan, he did what he did best: he bent the circumstances in his favor without ever leaving a trace.

It started with a casual observation. Light knew that Ethan’s new-found confidence, while refreshing, was also a weakness. The more he was validated by his peers and admired by the girls in school, the more distracted he became. He was no longer the shy, introverted kid, but a rising star in a social hierarchy that was just as demanding as it was fickle. And that, in Light’s mind, was his opportunity.

It wasn’t enough to push Ethan directly. That would have been too obvious, too aggressive, and would only serve to make Ethan wary, perhaps even resentful. Instead, Light did what he always did: he stayed in the background, gently adjusting things without ever touching them directly.

———

One afternoon, Light invited Ethan to study at his house, a seemingly innocuous gathering. It wasn’t that Light wanted to help him with his homework—he was smarter than that. No, he invited Ethan because he knew exactly who else would be there.

“You should join us,” Light had said, his tone casual but with a hidden undercurrent of suggestion. “I’ve got some friends coming over. A few people from our class, actually. I’m sure you’ll enjoy their company.”

Ethan, eager for approval, agreed without hesitation. And when he arrived, he was greeted by not just a group of classmates but also a few girls from your year—girls who Light had carefully cultivated an interest in Ethan. They were charming and confident, just the kind of people who would make Ethan feel special, like he was part of a social circle he’d only just begun to enter.

Light watched with quiet satisfaction as the evening unfolded. He knew that Ethan, although still somewhat socially awkward, would be swept up in the flattery, in the attention from the girls. He would find himself caught up in their world, a world that was fast and shallow and entirely separate from the quiet, introspective world you inhabited.

But Light wasn’t finished yet.

———

The next day, when Ethan and you were supposed to meet for a study session, Light intervened once more, subtly inserting himself into the equation. He casually mentioned that Ethan was already busy with other plans.

“I’m sure Ethan has his hands full,” Light had said with that same detached, almost apologetic tone. “He’s got a lot going on with his new... friends, after all. It’s good for him.”

You had simply nodded, the familiar pang of abandonment not even worth acknowledging. Light could see the slight drop in your expression, the way your shoulders slumped imperceptibly. But he didn’t act on it immediately. No, he needed you to feel like you had no other choice, that it was just a natural consequence of the circumstances.

And as the days passed, Light continued to keep Ethan distracted. More invitations, more group activities, more of those seemingly innocent social events. He made sure Ethan was always busy, always surrounded by people who pulled him in different directions. He could feel Ethan growing more distant, his once-deep friendship with you fading into the background as he became more absorbed in his new social circle.

———

On the surface, nothing changed. You two continued to hang out, study, talk. But Light knew. He knew that you were slowly becoming aware of the shift, of Ethan’s increasing distance. And that’s when Light did what he did best—he made sure you still felt like you had him.

One evening, after Ethan had canceled another plan with you, Light casually invited you over to his place, no agenda, no ulterior motive—just two friends spending time together. But Light’s manipulation wasn’t about grand gestures. It was in the small things.

He’d set up a video game session, one of your favorites, and while you played, he would drop little hints, reminders that you were the one he always came back to. He never let the topic of Ethan come up, choosing instead to distract you with conversations about your interests, your hobbies, things you hadn’t realized you’d been missing. Subtly, quietly, Light reminded you of your place in his life. You were the constant, the one who always remained, the one who didn’t leave.

———

When you finally admitted your inner thoughts to Light, he didn’t show much reaction at first. He kept his calm, his cold indifference.

“It’s a bit sad,” you’d said, your tone light, almost detached, as if you didn’t want to admit how much it stung. “But I’m not too sad. I’m used to it.”

Light, the ever-constant figure in your life, simply nodded. “Yeah. I get it.”

But it wasn’t just that. Not for you. You had always been prepared for this moment. Prepared for the day Ethan would outgrow you, for the day he would soar to greater heights. You had always been alone in that way, haven’t you? You knew how to let go.

And that’s when Light’s grip on you tightened, though you didn’t fully realize it. He was the only one who came back to you, the only one who had never truly left. He was the constant in your life, no matter what came and went. He was the one who always returned.

You couldn’t quite explain it, but something about that—the fact that no matter how many people came and went in your life, Light was always there—comforted you. And maybe that’s why, deep down, you never questioned his actions. You never thought to look at the situation from a different perspective, to wonder why Light was so intent on keeping you around, when you were used to being discarded so easily by others.

You saw the change in Ethan, sure. You saw the way his life had shifted, how he had grown. But that didn’t mean you resented him. You never did. You were prepared to let him go if it was what was best for him, just like you had done for everyone else.

But Light? He never let go. Not completely. And you never had to ask why.

────────────

The evening was peaceful, the kind of calm routine you had come to expect when it was just you and Light. The house was quiet save for the faint sounds of clicking buttons as you both battled through another video game session, your focus entirely on the screen. You didn’t need to speak much to him—nothing ever felt awkward when it was just the two of you. It was always comfortable, always predictable, until it wasn’t.

As you took a break to rest your fingers, Light leaned back against the couch, looking at you in a way that made your stomach tighten. His gaze was uncharacteristically serious, and there was something in his eyes that you couldn’t quite read. For a moment, you wondered if he was going to start one of his usual philosophical tangents or give one of his self-imposed lectures on some obscure topic. But when he finally spoke, his voice was steady, and there was no trace of teasing or sarcasm.

“Can I kiss you?” Light asked, his words blunt and direct.

You blinked, not immediately reacting. It was such an out-of-place comment that it took a few seconds for it to register. You raised an eyebrow, your fingers still hovering over the game controller. You were certain he couldn’t be serious—Light was always surrounded by a revolving door of girlfriends and admirers. He was practically a Casanova, after all.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?” you asked, still unsure whether he was joking or not. You didn’t want to entertain it, but the sheer randomness of his question caught your attention.

Light didn’t miss a beat. “I broke up with her.”

You shook your head at the nonchalance in his voice, thinking about how many times you had seen him casually switch partners in the past. It was never a surprise. Light was always the one in control, always the one who seemed to be in charge of everyone and everything, and you had learned long ago that his romantic entanglements were always temporary distractions.

“You really are a Casanova, huh?” you muttered under your breath, continuing to focus on the game as your thumb pressed the button to start the next round.

Light smirked, but there was something different in his expression, something that made the usual cockiness feel almost forced. His eyes were still locked onto you, and there was an intensity there that you hadn’t noticed before.

“I’ve been saving my first kiss for you,” he said, the words so calm, so matter-of-fact, that it almost sounded rehearsed.

You paused mid-game, your thumb stilling on the controller. You turned to him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What? Why?”

“It’s simple,” he said, his voice softer now, but still carrying that logical, detached tone. “You’re the one who matters the most. You’ve always been there. Everyone else is just a distraction.”

His words hit you like a strange mix of sincerity and something else you couldn’t quite place. He had always been there for you, the constant in your life, the one person who had stuck by you through everything, despite all the weirdness of life. But as his gaze lingered on you, something felt different. There was a weight in the air, an expectation you hadn’t noticed before.

You didn’t immediately respond, unsure how to take his words. You glanced at him, brow furrowed. “Are you serious? You’re asking me this now?”

Light leaned in slightly, his voice dropping into a softer tone, the edges of his usual confidence giving way to something quieter. “I know you don’t get caught up in emotions. You’ve never been the type to care about that kind of thing. But... I’ve been feeling things, and I think you should too.”

There was something almost... resigned in his words, as though he had been carrying a burden for a while. The way he spoke wasn’t forceful, but there was a subtle gravity to it, like he was simply revealing something long kept beneath the surface.

“You know,” he continued, his voice becoming even more subdued, “I’ve always been here for you. But you’ve been spending so much time with Ethan lately. Helping him out, giving him your attention...” He paused, just long enough to let the silence fill the space. “I couldn’t help but wonder why.”

You hadn’t realized how much he had been observing, how much he had noticed. You always thought things were just as they were—Light and you, close as ever. It had never seemed like there was more to it, never something to question. But hearing his words now, there was an unfamiliar sting that gnawed at you.

“You’ve always had me,” Light added, his gaze steady, though there was something new, something deeper in it now. “And I’ve always made sure to be there. I guess I just... I never thought you’d be so busy with other people.”

It wasn’t blame, exactly. It was just the way he said it—like an old truth suddenly reexamined. He never demanded your attention before, never pushed for it. But now, in this moment, it felt as if he was trying to help you see something you might have missed.

“I should’ve said something earlier, but... I guess I was too focused on being there for you.” His words hung in the air, as if he was unburdening himself of something that had long been kept quiet. “Maybe... maybe I didn’t want to admit that I’ve always been waiting for you to notice.”

Your chest tightened, the weight of his quiet confession pressing on you. You had always been so focused on helping Ethan, on seeing his progress, that you hadn’t realized how much Light had been in the background, how much he had been giving without asking for anything in return. His presence had always felt constant, like a backdrop to your life, never demanding, always patient.

He shifted closer, his voice lowering even further. “So... can I kiss you? I’ve been waiting for this.”

———

As Light’s words lingered in the air, you felt a strange pull in your chest, a mix of confusion and guilt that twisted deeper with each passing second. His gaze was steady, unwavering, as if he had already anticipated your hesitation. You had always trusted him, relied on him, and the thought of disappointing him—of not recognizing what he had done for you—felt like an unbearable weight.

But still, you couldn’t shake the uncertainty that gnawed at you. Something didn’t sit right, not entirely. But when Light spoke again, his tone soft yet somehow firm, you couldn’t ignore it.

“You’ve always had me,” he repeated, his voice more intimate now, like a whispered confession. “I’ve always been here for you. And maybe that’s why... it’s so hard for me to see you with someone else, giving all your attention to Ethan, when I’ve given you everything. When I’ve always been here, waiting for you.”

There it was—the subtle shift in his words, the quiet insinuation. The way he made it seem like you owed him something, like you hadn’t truly appreciated everything he had done. And it worked. The guilt bubbled up inside you, slowly at first, but it soon filled every inch of your chest, clouding your thoughts.

His eyes softened, his voice quieter now. “I don’t want to make you feel bad... but I can’t help how I feel. And I’ve always been there for you, through everything.”

The logic, the gentle push—it was all so subtle, so carefully calculated that you barely even realized how much it was affecting you. You didn’t want to hurt him, didn’t want to make him feel neglected or unimportant. And the truth was, you hadn’t thought about him the way you should have, not in this sense.

The thought of him hurting, of him feeling left behind, sent a pang of guilt through you. Wasn’t he always there for you? Wasn’t he your best friend? And hadn’t he given you so much, asking for nothing in return? How could you not see that he needed something from you too?

You swallowed hard, feeling as if you were cornered, though he had never raised his voice. You met his gaze, and the weight of everything—his words, his feelings, the years of friendship—pressed down on you. Maybe, just maybe, you could give him this, just this once.

“Okay,” you muttered, almost too quietly, nodding in agreement, though you weren’t entirely sure why. “Okay, Light.”

His eyes brightened, as if he had been waiting for you to finally understand, to finally see what he had been trying to show you all along. And before you could think any further, before you could change your mind, he closed the distance between you, his lips pressing against yours with a fervor that surprised you.

The kiss was hard, intense—far more passionate than anything you had ever imagined from Light. His lips parted, and before you could react, his tongue slipped into your mouth, coaxing you deeper into the kiss. His hands, once casual and comforting, were now firm, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

You tried to pull back, to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions that were suddenly flooding your senses, but he was relentless, his grip tightening around you as he deepened the kiss, pouring out all his hidden feelings in the act. There was a rawness to it that unsettled you, a sense of desperation that didn’t feel like the Light you knew.

“Don’t pull away,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours as he kissed you harder, more urgently. “I’ve waited too long for this.”

You struggled, your hands pressing against his chest in an attempt to create space between you. But his hold was unyielding, his mouth determined as he kissed you more forcefully, his body pressing you back into the couch. The more you tried to push him away, the more he responded, tightening his grip, kissing you with an intensity that left you breathless.

It was like he was trying to make you feel every ounce of what he had been holding back all this time—the possessiveness, the longing, the unspoken need. You couldn’t escape the feeling that this wasn’t just about a kiss. It was about something deeper, something he wasn’t willing to admit, and for some reason, you were caught in the middle of it all.

Your heart pounded, your breath quickening as you tried to regain control, but it felt impossible. Every time you thought you might push him away, his presence swallowed you whole, and you found yourself trapped in the moment, uncertain of where it was going or what it meant.

And in the chaos of it all, you couldn’t help but wonder: Had you just given in to something you weren’t ready for?

———

The kiss seemed to stretch on forever, the force of it stealing your breath and leaving you spinning. Light’s lips were desperate, hungry—each movement sending a storm of emotions through you, making it hard to think clearly. His hands were unrelenting, pulling you closer as if he needed you to be closer than ever before, and you couldn’t tell if you were suffocating or if it was just the intensity of the moment.

But just as you thought you might lose yourself entirely, Light finally broke the kiss. His lips lingered near yours, a soft breath escaping him as he pulled away slightly. His eyes were wide, almost unsteady, and there was a flush on his cheeks, a vulnerability you hadn’t expected. He looked at you, a mix of guilt and something softer in his gaze, almost as if he had been holding something back for far too long.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Light’s voice was low, softer than you had ever heard it. The usual confidence was gone, replaced by something raw and apologetic. He reached up, his fingers brushing lightly over your cheek as if trying to make sure you were still there. “I just... I’ve wanted this for so long. Wanted you to know how I feel. But I didn’t want to push you, didn’t want to scare you off.”

You could barely breathe, the rush of emotions still flooding your chest. But his words, the way he spoke—so calm, so seemingly vulnerable—made it harder to argue with. He was always in control, always the one who seemed so certain about everything. But now, he seemed... different. More human. More real.

“I know you care about Ethan,” Light continued, his voice growing quieter, almost like he was confessing a long-hidden secret. “But you’ve always been my person. And I can’t just keep pretending that it’s okay to watch you give all your attention to someone else. I can’t do that anymore.” His gaze softened, and he let out a slow, shaky breath. “I’ve always been here for you, through everything, and I’ll always be here for you. But you need to know that I need you too.”

Your chest tightened, a mixture of guilt and confusion flooding you. You had always relied on Light, always seen him as the constant in your life—the one person who never faltered. But now, with him standing so close, his eyes filled with emotion, it felt like he was asking for something that you didn’t know how to give.

“It’s just hard, you know?” he went on, his voice softer, almost as if he were talking to himself. “I never wanted to make you feel pressured, never wanted you to think I needed something from you. But I’ve been waiting for you to see it... to see me. The way I see you.”

His words stung, a sharp reminder that maybe you had been blind to his feelings, had never really considered how deeply Light had been there for you. His presence, his care—it had always been so constant that you never thought of it as anything other than friendship. But now, hearing him speak so openly, it felt like you had missed something, like you had failed to notice the depth of his emotions.

“I’m sorry,” he added, his hand moving to cup your face gently. “I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I just wanted you to know how much you mean to me. How much I’ve been there for you. You’re my everything, you know that?”

You couldn’t help but soften, despite the overwhelming swirl of emotions inside you. He was right about one thing—he had always been there for you, through every up and down. He had given you so much without asking for anything in return. Couldn’t you just give him this? Couldn’t you show him the same loyalty, the same devotion he had shown you?

“I know I’ve been selfish,” Light continued, his voice thick with emotion now. “I didn’t want to admit it, but I’ve always needed you, and I can’t pretend that I don’t anymore.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. His words were so soft, so raw—something about the vulnerability in his tone made it hard to keep your walls up. He was your best friend. He had always been there, a steady force in your life. How could you not want to give him this?

“I’m not asking for anything big,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just want you to see me. To know how much I care. To know that... I’ve always cared.”

Your heart clenched as the weight of his words settled over you, and despite the uncertainty swirling in your mind, you nodded slowly. You could never refuse him. Not Light. Not when he had always been your constant, the one person who had never wavered in his loyalty.

“I... I do care about you, Light,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

He smiled softly, almost sadly, as if he had expected something like that, as if he had known you would give in.

“I just needed you to understand,” he whispered, leaning in again, this time his touch gentler, more tender, as he kissed you once more.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself be swept away by the warmth of his lips, the tenderness of his touch. Even as doubt whispered in the back of your mind, telling you that something wasn’t quite right, you buried it deep. After all, Light was your best friend. The one person who had always been there for you. You couldn’t turn away from him now, not after everything he had done.

And so, despite the confusion, despite the overwhelming swirl of emotions, you let yourself fall into the kiss, letting the weight of his presence consume you. Because in the end, he was the one constant in your life. And to you, that meant everything.

────────────

As Light’s lips moved against yours, his touch became softer, more controlled, though the intensity beneath the surface didn’t waver. When he finally pulled away, he didn’t let go. Instead, he wrapped his arms tightly around you, drawing you into an embrace so firm it felt like he was trying to fuse your body with his. His chin rested against your shoulder, his face buried in the curve of your neck, inhaling deeply, almost reverently.

The scent of you—natural and subtle, like soft florals—flooded his senses, grounding him in a way he hadn’t anticipated. His grip tightened for just a moment, and though you couldn’t see his face, there was an unguarded smile stretching far too wide, twisted in its elation. Ah. Finally. This feels so good. So perfect.

He allowed himself one long, slow breath, savoring every second of having you in his arms. His face remained hidden, safely tucked away where you couldn’t see the mask slip, where you couldn’t catch the flicker of something far darker than the tenderness he pretended to offer. His voice, when it came, was warm and light, the perfect mimicry of someone lovestruck. “I’ve waited so long for this,” he murmured, pressing his lips lightly against your temple. “You have no idea how much you mean to me.”

But inside, his thoughts were far from gentle.

Calm down, Light. Don’t ruin this. Not yet. She’s not ready. He had to physically restrain himself, fingers digging into your back to keep his hands steady. The urge to take, to claim, to make you entirely his surged like wildfire, burning away the edges of his composure. Not yet. You’ll ruin everything if you move too fast.

Your naivety was what made you so precious. You were brilliant in your own way—smarter than him in certain areas, even—but socially? Oh, you were practically a child, stumbling blindly through interactions while he played the perfect friend, the perfect protector. And you trusted him so implicitly. That’s your greatest weakness. You trust me.

His mind was a whirl of strategies and calculations, and all of them led to the same conclusion: you were his, and you always had been. It was simply a matter of time before you realized it too. If he had to break you, mold you, and piece you back together to make you understand, then so be it. He would do it slowly, carefully, ensuring you never saw the cracks in his façade.

You think you’re safe with me. The thought was almost laughable, sending a ripple of satisfaction through him as he tightened his embrace. You don’t realize how deep you’ve already fallen into this. How much I’ve shaped your life to keep you close. But that’s okay. You’ll understand soon enough.

He could feel the heat of your skin against his, hear the soft hitch in your breathing, and it made him drunk with control. He’d never felt calmer, never felt more in command of himself. Every step from here on out was carefully planned, meticulously crafted to lead you exactly where he wanted you. There was no need to rush.

I’ll break you, little by little. But you won’t even notice, will you? You’ll think I’m helping you, protecting you. And when there’s nothing left of the girl who thought she could exist without me, you’ll thank me for it.

You stirred slightly in his hold, and for a moment, he almost let his grip slip—almost let his hunger get the better of him. But he reined himself in, forcing his breathing to slow, forcing the wicked grin on his face to soften into something fond. His lips brushed against your neck, leaving a featherlight kiss that made you shiver, though you didn’t pull away.

“I won’t let you go,” he whispered, his voice so soft and tender that it sent a pang of guilt through you for even considering doubting him. “I’ll always take care of you. I promise.”

And he meant it. Oh, he meant it in every twisted sense of the word. You were his to care for, to cherish, to love. And if caring for you meant destroying every piece of independence you had, if cherishing you meant breaking you down until you couldn’t live without him, then that was exactly what he would do.

Because to him, you weren’t just the person he loved. You were his purpose, his possession, his world. And no one—not Ethan, not anyone—would take you from him.

As he pulled back slightly, his hands lingered on your shoulders, holding you at arm’s length as he gazed at you with eyes so warm, so sincere, you felt your heart twist. “Thank you,” he said softly, his lips curling into a gentle smile. “For trusting me. For letting me in.”

You didn’t have the words to respond, too overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, too consumed by the vulnerability you thought you saw in his expression. You nodded, offering him a small, shaky smile of your own.

And Light, ever the patient predator, smiled back.

Good girl.

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of World Ablaze (WA): For You, I'd Burn The World. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “World Ablaze”: @berry-berry-beam , @magica-ren , @hyakki-yosai , @esthelily , @zombeepuppy , @mololoteco , @whyamaris , @iciel , @songbirdgardensworld , @airangelaira , @illyanaillyana , @ninahorikoshifr , @yandere-daze

[xyywrites]

Tips for writing flawed but lovable characters.

Flawed characters are the ones we root for, cry over, and remember long after the story ends. But creating a character who’s both imperfect and likable can feel like a tightrope walk. 

1. Flaws That Stem From Their Strengths

When a character’s greatest strength is also their Achilles' heel, it creates depth.

Strength: Fiercely loyal.

Flaw: Blind to betrayal or willing to go to dangerous extremes for loved ones.

“She’d burn the whole world down to save her sister—even if it killed her.”

2. Let Their Flaws Cause Problems

Flaws should have consequences—messy, believable ones.

Flaw: Impatience.

Result: They rush into action, ruining carefully laid plans.

“I thought I could handle it myself,” he muttered, staring at the smoking wreckage. “Guess not.”

3. Show Self-Awareness—or Lack Thereof

Characters who know they’re flawed (but struggle to change) are relatable. Characters who don’t realize their flaws can create dramatic tension.

A self-aware flaw: “I know I talk too much. It’s just… silence makes me feel like I’m disappearing.” A blind spot: “What do you mean I always have to be right? I’m just better at solving problems than most people!”

4. Give Them Redeeming Traits

A mix of good and bad keeps characters balanced.

Flaw: They’re manipulative.

Redeeming Trait: They use it to protect vulnerable people.

“Yes, I lied to get him to trust me. But he would’ve died otherwise.”

Readers are more forgiving of flaws when they see the bigger picture.

5. Let Them Grow—But Slowly

Instant redemption feels cheap. Characters should stumble, fail, and backslide before they change.

Early in the story: “I don’t need anyone. I’ve got this.”

Midpoint: “Okay, fine. Maybe I could use some help. But don’t get used to it.”

End: “Thank you. For everything.”

The gradual arc makes their growth feel earned.

6. Make Them Relatable, Not Perfect

Readers connect with characters who feel human—messy emotions, bad decisions, and all.

A bad decision: Skipping their best friend’s wedding because they’re jealous of their happiness.

A messy emotion: Feeling guilty afterward but doubling down to justify their actions.

A vulnerable moment: Finally apologizing, unsure if they’ll be forgiven.

7. Use Humor as a Balancing Act

Humor softens even the most prickly characters.

Flaw: Cynicism.

Humorous side: Making snarky, self-deprecating remarks that reveal their softer side.

“Love? No thanks. I’m allergic to heartbreak—and flowers.”

8. Avoid Overdoing the Flaws

Too many flaws can make a character feel unlikable or overburdened.

Instead of: A character who’s selfish, cruel, cowardly, and rude.

Try: A character who’s selfish but occasionally shows surprising generosity.

“Don’t tell anyone I helped you. I have a reputation to maintain.”

9. Let Them Be Vulnerable

Vulnerability adds layers and makes flaws understandable.

Flaw: They’re cold and distant.

Vulnerability: They’ve been hurt before and are terrified of getting close to anyone again.

“It’s easier this way. If I don’t care about you, then you can’t leave me.”

10. Make Their Flaws Integral to the Plot

When flaws directly impact the story, they feel purposeful rather than tacked on.

Flaw: Their arrogance alienates the people they need.

Plot Impact: When their plan fails, they’re left scrambling because no one will help them.

Flawed but lovable characters are the backbone of compelling stories. They remind us that imperfection is human—and that growth is possible.

[kat-thelorekid]

I think I can make a chain out of this >:]

What do you think of fan works? (Such as fanfiction, fanart, etc.)

Haven’t read any murder drones fanfiction (yet) but the Cyn fanart Pinterest recommends to me is always so pretty!!!!

What do you think of your in-source family/friends? (A brother, a best friend, etc. that is close to who you were/are!)

I think N is a nice person and I’d like to say sorry to Tessa :(

What does fandom get right and/or wrong? (Such as gender or pronoun headcanons, or portrayals in fanfiction and fanart!)

About to try a Mango in a few days (time of writing this: 19th January 2025, 11:19 AM) and then I can comment on the “Cyn likes Mangoes” headcanon

Do you like the name you got in source, or do you go by a different one?

I go by Kat irl and online but my friends use Kat and Cyn interchangeably and it makes me happy

Do you own any merch from your source? If not, would you like to?

I saw someone make Solver figdet spinners on youtube, don’t think they’re purchaseable though :(

But if I acquire black beads then I could make a Kandi bracelet!! I’d love to have merch of myself :]

What do you remember from your past in-source, and does it align with canon media?

I don’t have any memories (besides those seem to be more common for fictionkins in systems which I’m not so I’m not counting on gaining any)

Do you dislike your source? Does anything in it bother you? (Such as the portrayal of a friend!)

Nope, nothing bothers me!! Cynessa captures my chaotic energy really well and if I was evil in this reality I’d probably be her even more

What does canon media get right and/or wrong about you? (Or, how different are you from canon?)

In my mental image of myself my face is completely a screen and I have extended metal fingers on my left hand, a circuit pattern on my right and I have a cursor attached to some wires on my back. My friend (the same one who helped me edit fullscreen-faced me on ibispaint) offered to craft my cursor with me!!!

But canon absolutely gets the speaking style and standing right. My parents in this reality had to teach me to stand correctly until I was like 7 so I wouldn’t damage my muscles in my feet permanently lol

What did you look like?

I described myself in the previous question :]

I’d like to mention, though, that (— googles and looks at my canon hair—) I wore it a little more openly.

How did you find out you were/are this/these character/s?

Thought I might be digitalkin, realized that speaking like cyn was comfortable and felt right, worried that I was subconsciously copying my screen face from murder drones in a way (and my cursor from the things the disassembly drones had on their back) and then when I asked my friend if it was okay for me to talk in a certain way they essentially said “so you’re talking like cyn now?” and we figured it out from there

Is there anything canon never showed that you remember happening?

Nope, no memories :(

Do you have any memories you visit a lot?

No memories (hoping-this-doesn’t-make-me-invalid-voice)

fictionkin & fictive ask game!!

/pt: fictionkin & fictive ask game!! end of pt/

i really want to explore my identities a bit more so i decided to make my own ask game! feel free to reblog, please send an ask to whoever you reblogged it from if you can, and enjoy!

this doesn’t follow an emoji/number system because i find those hard to keep track of. questions below!

What do you think of fan works? (Such as fanfiction, fanart, etc.)

What do you think of your in-source family/friends? (A brother, a best friend, etc. that is close to who you were/are!)

What does fandom get right and/or wrong? (Such as gender or pronoun headcanons, or portrayals in fanfiction and fanart!)

Do you like the name you got in source, or do you go by a different one?

Do you own any merch from your source? If not, would you like to?

What do you remember from your past in-source, and does it align with canon media?

Do you dislike your source? Does anything in it bother you? (Such as the portrayal of a friend!)

What does canon media get right and/or wrong about you? (Or, how different are you from canon?)

What did you look like?

How did you find out you were/are this/these character/s?

Is there anything canon never showed that you remember happening?

Do you have any memories you visit a lot?

[starkissedmallow]

Uh, hi. I would like to request a texting things where the reader accidentally sends a ‘hear me out’ to the person they’re ‘hearing out’ thinking it’s like, Mina or something. Feel free to ignore though.

btw I love ur writing

Accidentally Sending The MHA Boys a “Hear Me Out” Text pt. 1

A/N: Thank you so much for the request, anon! I hope that you enjoy! I’m going to break this up into two parts since it’ll be a bit long. Part two will be up tomorrow!

IZUKU MIDORIYA-

- You were so excited to gush over how much you liked Izuku to your friend that you didn’t realize who you actually texted until it was too late

- About a few minutes after sending the text you quickly received a response back

- Your face went red as you realized who you actually texted. It was your crush. Izuku Midoriya!

- He had sent you a text back and you were nervous to see what he said

- “Uh, you think I’m attractive? Thank you, y/n! No one’s ever told me that before. I’m flattered.”

- “I think you’re really cute too, y/n!”

BAKUGOU KATSUKI-

- You have been gushing about your new crush, Bakugou Katsuki, to your best friend for hours now

- Going on and on about how cute he is and how attractive you think he is when he’s working out

- Thing is your friend had been responding up until you sent the last message and you were wondering why they haven’t responded yet

- The message you sent was particularly clear on how you felt about Bakugou and you were eager to see what your friend had said

- A look of fear crossed your expression as you realized who you actually texted

- It was Bakugou. Your crush. The man you’ve loved since childhood.

- And he was very confused in his response. You really messed up your chances big time.

- “Huh? What the hell are you talking about?”

- “Are you messing with me?”

- Now you really messed up big time. And now Bakugou was calling you and you had allot of explaining to do.

KIRISHIMA EIJIRO-

- You were so excited to get home and send a text to your best friend about all of your thoughts about Kirishima

- You could go on for hours about how much you wanted to spend time with him and just be near his energetic self

- He was a longtime crush of yours but you haven’t mustered up the courage to ask him out

- You decided that you would ask your friend how you should confess your feelings to Kiri and you were describing in detail everything you loved about him

- Little did you know was that you accidentally sent that very detailed text to Kirishima instead of your best friend until you checked if your friend had seen the text or not

- Crap. Now you really messed up. And now he was typing back a response.

- Kirishima sends back a winking emoji and a short text back which reads, “Haha, really? That’s awesome, y/n! I really like you too. Let’s hangout sometime. What do you say?”

SHOTO TODOROKI-

- Shoto had asked you to hangout with him later that week and you were so excited to tell your best friend all about it

- Including adding in your personal thoughts about the red and white haired hero

- These were some deep and emotional feelings that you had kept hidden until now that you sent them over to your best friend

- You wait a few minutes and then hear the ding of your text notifications, eager to see what your friend said you quickly open up your texts

- The message you saw surprised you and you quickly realized you texted the wrong person

- “You sure do think a lot about me, y/n. That’s not entirely unexpected…”

- “How about we go and grab some coffee at the local café sometime, just you and me?”

[purplereina11]

New Signing, New Beginning Part 7

Mia Larsen was Barcelonas new summer signing

Alexia Putellas is a club legend who just can't seem to talk to her

Mia was staying with Keira the night of the El Classico, she was relaxing on her sofa watching the TV as Keira was getting the spare room ready, something she hovered to help with but was scolded so skulked away. There was some Spanish soap on the television her grandparents watched religiously, she found herself invested and if not home to catch it had them record the episode for her. She smiled at the text she got from her Gran assuring her she was recording the episode for her incase Keira didn’t watch it.

“Hey” Kiera spoke as she came into the living room, she looked at the TV “Oh god you like this too?” Keira flopped onto the sofa, “Alexia loves it, her and Lucy used to always talk about it, she used to watch it, I haven’t a clue what’s going on ever”

“Why did you not just put subtitles on?” Mia spoke like it was the most obvious suggestion and it probably was

“She wouldn’t let me, she said I would pick up Spanish better if I didn’t have them on” Mia giggled moving her head to look at Keira before her attention turned right back to the episode, “Not that has proved to be true”

“It’s nice you two are still friends”

“There was no bad blood there, we just.. ran our course I guess. Ona makes her so happy, and she’s a good person. She helps me a lot with my Spanish”

Mia hummed, “I noticed that, Aitana has the thankless task of the Catalan I’ve noticed”

“We don’t all grow up in multi lingual houses Mia” Mia smiled, “I think Aita has given up, to be fair it just wasn’t going in at all, languages has never been my thing”

“You understand a lot”

Keira nodded, “Yeah I understand it just can’t speak it” Keira pointed to the Tv, “Thought you were watching this”

“It’s fine, my gran text she’s recording it for me”

Keira swooned, “That is so adorable”

“Yeah.. she’s the best”

Both looked as there was tapping at the door, Keira furrowed her brows as Mia looked back to her silently asking are you going to get that, Keira pulled herself off the sofa and towards the door she pulled it, “Oh, hi” she smiled at Alexia at her door, Mia hadn’t turned around to see who was at the door she just snuggled under her blanket that little bit more.

She felt her body get goosebumps when she heard that voice, one she’d not heard in some time now, it had been maybe 4 days since they’re confrontation, Mia had lost count of the nights she’d laid awake replaying it over and over in her head. What she would say when Alexia made the move to make it less awkward between them again. If she had the chance. Mia had become an expert in not being where Alexia was until today.

Alexia opened her mouth to ask her question when she got the sweetest smile on her lips, “You watch this? Lucy said you hated it”

“Oh um” Keira looked and from here you couldn’t actually see Mia, “No.. Mias here, she watches it” Keira silently gained Alexia’s attention her eye contact told her to go say hello, “What did you need?”

“Oh, I needed sugar.. please”

Keira nodded, “I’ll put some in a cup”

“Gracias”

Mia sat tense whether the captain would come acknowledge her or not, she knew she was here but there conversation moved past Mia’s presence quite quickly. Mia’s chin rose to look above her, feeling her presence, her attention was fully focused on the show, Mia lowered her head back down. For a second she thought Alexia had pointedly come over to actively ignore her, “Hola” her voice was timid, Alexia was fearful she’d get the angry face from Mia that had played on repeat in her dreams.

Mia swallowed, “Hola” that came out quieter than she intended, Mia found herself wanting to make small talk but she figured she’d let Alexia fill the silence, she obviously came over for a reason. Maybe actually mustering up the courage to apologise, who knows.

Alexia glanced as Keira appeared with a cup, “Gracias” Alexia stared at the sugar in the cup, “You were great today”

“Thank you” Mia spoke softly, Alexia waited for her to say something else, smile at her, just even acknowledge she was stood behind her but she never. Alexia admitted defeat despite her abysmal attempt and retreated back to her apartment a few floors up.

“Mia” Keira said softly as she sat back down

“I know i did wrong but she started it”

“Are you 12?”

Mia smiled, “No, but she loves reminding me she’s the captain so she can make this right that’s what a captain should do”

+

Mia was fiddling with her shorts as she walked down the corridor, “Bon Dia” she rose her head and Alexia was right in front of her. Alexia smiled ever so slightly, she really wanted to make amends with Mia but she just didn’t know where to start with it.

“Bon Dia” Mia lowered her head again and went walking straight by her, Alexia took a breath turned grabbed her hand before Mia even knew what was happening she found herself in the meeting room door shut and Alexia blocking the exit. “I’m not doing this with you again”

“Sit down”

“No” Mia fought back, “Why should I sit down?”

“Sit” Alexia rose her voice slamming the chair back out from under the table, “Down”

The girls in the locker room next door fell silent hearing Alexia raise her voice, Keira swallowed there was only one person Alexia would speak to like that. There was only one other person missing.

“Sitting down isn’t going to happen, what, do you want” Mia had her back up, and rightfully so here Alexia was speaking to her like shit again. Mia could feel all these emotions swirling around her body as they stood silently neither making a move Alexia looking everywhere but her as she searched for some words to say.

Mia silently urged Alexia just to make this right, apologise, do something because holding her hostage in the meeting room wasn’t achieving anything. It was pointless. Futile. Fruitless. It was getting them no where. It wasn’t achieving anything. It was just building more anger and resentment towards the captain on Mias part.

“This is stupid” Mia moved by Alexia, she didn’t mean to bump into her as she opened the door.

“Stop” Alexia slammed the door back shut, turning Mias body to face her. They were incredibly close, Alexia could feel Mia’s breath. She was lost in every sense Mia was infiltrating. Her touch, her smell, her sight. The words weren’t coming yet again and she could feel Mias anger building again.

“Say something then” Mia whispered into the smallest gap between them, Alexia practically pushing her against the door.

“Please, just, sit down”

Mia put her hands on Alexia’s stomach forcing some distance, “That’s not what you needed to say” Mia slipped out the door making sure to slam it, the girls in the locker room heard the door slam followed by something clattering. Alexia had kicked a chair. Mia appeared in view walking straight through the locker room.

“Mia” Keira spoke getting to her feet

“I’m fine” Simply stated before heading out to the gym for today’s recovery session. It was Keira and Ingrid that went after her.

Alexia was noticeably missing for some time, she arrived finally her eyes scanning to see where Mia was. She was tucked in the corner on the treadmill, Pere talking to her, she didn’t say a word however. She was just nodding, she got a little smile towards the end.

Alexia plonked herself down between Mapi and Patri to began stretching, “I need your help” she directed at Patri, “I” Alexia looked to Patri and to Patri, her friend looked anguished. “I don’t know what to do, I keep making it worse.” The pain in Alexia’s face and voice was evident, the spaniard clearly torn apart about the way her friendship or lack there of with Mia was going.

“What happened?”

“I pulled her into the office, she wouldn’t sit down” Alexia looked like she was almost going to have a panic attack recounting the story.

“You shoved her into a door?” Patri asked

Alexia’s head dropped, “She’s never going to forgive me”

Patri put her hands on the captain’s neck yanking her to kiss her temple, “You need to speak to her, she’s just a person Ale why do you find it so hard to just speak to her”

Alexia shrugged, she knew she’d finally figured it out, but she would never get the opportunity to explain to Mia she doubted now.

+

Alexia sat nervously in the restaurant waiting on an arrival, Patri told her to be here and she’d get Mia here. Alexia looked at the time and she should have been here by now, maybe she’d arrived seen it wasn’t in-fact Patri she was meeting and just left.

Her head rose and she froze much like Mia had, their eyes locked over the restaurant, Mia instantly knew. Her dinner date wasn’t Patri. It was Alexia all along. She did think it was odd the restaurant choice Patri had suggested but it became clearer. A waiter approached Mia as Alexia rose to her feet, she told him with a smile she was meeting a friend and she’d seen her. That smile quickly dropped however as she began closing the distance to the table way at the back Alexia stood awkwardly.

“Buenas Noches” Alexia said softly watching as Mia took her seat, she lowering herself back down. She hoped they could work this out.

Mia placed her bag on the floor took off her jacket and poured herself a glass of water, Alexia felt it was a good start she’d at least stayed. It was a good sign.

“Don’t blame Patri”

Mia sipped her water finally looking at Alexia, “Who else am i to blame?”

Alexia shrugged, “Me i guess, I asked her to get you here so we could talk” Mia simply nodded as her glass was lowered back to the table

“Talk then” Mias attitude wasn’t helping Alexia’s sweaty palms but she knew it was justified. She had to ignore it. She needed to start the ball rolling tonight in making this amends with Mia.

“I don’t know how to speak to you” Alexia just started if she over thought what she was going to say or how to say it, it wouldn’t come out, “And I know it sounds stupid because we’ve had conversations but” Alexia stuttered slightly, “I feel like.. you are the only person that’s ever come here that when you look at me you aren’t looking at Alexia Putellas, you’re looking at.. me” Mia lowered her gaze, “I’m not used to that, and it makes me feel vulnerable around you. I don’t let myself be vulnerable around many people especially people i’ve just met. It scares me. And. I don’t know why but my natural reaction is to just be mean to you and i don’t know why. And i hate myself for it, i really wish i wouldn’t do that”

Mia rose her eyes back to Alexia’s as they were interrupted, Alexia ordered the wine she knew Mia liked when asked about food Alexia checked Mia knew what she wanted and they ordered. Mia sat back looking around the restaurant she’d never been here before, she looked back to Alexia. “Me to”

Alexia swallowed, “I’m sorry”

Mia softened almost instantly, she didn’t speak as the waiter brought over their wine and poured them each a glass, Mia gladly sipped hers needing the courage. She watched as Alexia looked past her out into the restaurant, Mia didn’t know how it got to this and maybe her avoiding Alexia only proved to deepen the tensions. “I don’t actually think your a dick by the way” Alexia moved her eyes to Mia, “Maybe a little bit but id had quite a bit to drink and i was out of order, i shouldn’t of spoken to you like that ever let alone in-front of the team”

Alexia let herself curl her lips ever so slightly, “I don’t even know what you mean by dick”

Mia lowered her head as she smiled, “In England we use it as an insult or to describe someone who’s being not very nice or aren’t nice, it’s a harsher way of saying jerk basically”

Alexia lifted her chin briefly now understanding, “Well as you say, I was being, a dick” Mia laughed, “What’s funny?”

“Just your accent when you speak English” Alexia tilted her head, “It’s cute” Alexia blushed, this was going better than Alexia thought it would be, even if Mias laugh was at her expense. Mia silently tore off some bread as she chewed she felt maybe she owed it to Alexia to tell her the truth. “You know when you asked me what Olga wanted”

“That was none of my business i shouldn’t of asked”

“It sort of is your business” Alexia’s face pulled in confusion, “As Captain… she wants me at Madrid”

“What?”

Mia shrugged, “She said if i say the word Toril would put an offer in in the January window”

“You want to go?” Mia simply shook her head eating some more bread, “Did you say that?”

Mia nodded, “Despite it appears it’s your life’s mission to make me hate it here, I like it, i enjoy the football”

“I am sorry”

Mia nodded finally making eye contact, “I know. But, we’ve been here before”

Alexia knew her apology was appreciated but she also knew her actions from here on out would speak louder. She needed to not let herself try to push Mia away just because she was infatuated with her in a way she never had with someone before. Mia was different. She knew that. She knew she’d be punching to even attempt to pursue Mia but the way she’d been behaving, it was never going to happen.

Patri had told Alexia Mia thought she was attractive. It gave Alexia hope.

“You do realise your now down a midfielder” Alexia rose her head from dipping her bread, “I’m going to kill Patri”

Alexia smiled, “I made her do it”

Mia hummed, “Bet the capitana line came out” Mia rose her eyes, “Am i really that scary to you that you couldn’t just speak to me”

Alexia shook her head, “You make me nervous”

Mias forehead wrinkled in response, “Why?”

Alexia shrugged, “Everyone else always seems to be so impressed by Alexia Putellas, you don’t” I feel not good enough is what Alexia missed off the end of her sentence.

“I am impressed by you, of course i am all you’ve achieved and what you can do. But i understand there’s a person behind all that, one that deserves just as much acknowledgment. I want to know you Alexia, not ‘Alexia Puetellas’ even though she is pretty cool” Alexia rose her eyes, “If that makes you nervous i’m sorry but you’re going to have to get over it, because clearly just not speaking isn’t something you want either”

Alexia laughed softly, “Why do i feel like i got you here to sort things and you ended up being the one to fix it”

“Because i’m just that amazing” Mia smiled sitting back sipping her wine, “Plus i need you on my side when I punch Patri tomorrow”

“I’ll hold her if you want” Alexia joked making Mia’s smile even bigger, “Although.. seems it was worth it”

Mia nodded as she spotted there food coming over, “Seems it”

Mia let Alexia come back to her grandparents in the taxi they stayed in the restaurant just talking for hours, Mia’s cheeks hurt from the smile Alexia kept on her face all evening, she was funny. Unintentionally witty and incredibly charming. If Mia wasn’t mistaken she could have sworn at one point they were gently flirting with each other, the ride to her grandparents home was held in a comfortable silence.

Mia unlocked the door and flicked on a light as she walked into the bungalow dropping her bag and keys on the table to her right she had breakfast at every morning, Alexia dipped her head as she followed her inside, closing the door behind herself. She took in her environment she smiled, it screamed grandparents, family pictures scattered around the space, “I’ll be back, make yourself comfy if you want”

Alexia simply nodded as Mia disappeared off into a room off the kitchen, she let her eyes scan around, her lips tugged seeing Mia’s picture the club took in her kit on her first day, framed on the mantel piece one side. Alexia let her feet carry herself to the opposite side, she scanned the family picture, she instantly spotted Mia big smile on her face flanked by Alexia knew were her parents she was the perfect mix of both. Alexia carried on wandering, looking at more pictures of the grandchildren, nearly all Mia’s pictures were football related, she either had on a football shirt, or a football was visible in the picture.

Alexia rose her eyes as Mia reappeared opening the fridge, “You were a cute kid” Alexia commented, Mia smiled as she got two bottles of water out of the fridge, closing the door coming towards her holding one to her.

“Thanks” she tittered at the comment

“Why is that funny?” Mia just shrugged, opening her water, “And you say I’m weird”

“No.. I say you’re awkward” Mia swigged some of the water, “You want to go sit by the pool?”

“You have a pool?” Alexia asked, Mia started walking backwards

“Follow me La Reina” Mia turned, she got to a door soon enough opening it to a rather large back garden considering the quaint size of the bungalow. Alexia shut the door behind her self as she saw Mia was already lowering her self to sit on the edge of the pool her feet dipping into the water. Mia spoke as Alexia silently joined her, “I like to sit here” she pointed up, “You get a real good view of the stars” Alexia watched Mia as she stared up at the sky clearly mesmerised, “You never saw this many stars in London” There was a subtle curve of Mia’s lips as she kept her gaze on the night sky, unaware how Alexia was admiring her taking in every inch of her, relishing in the interrupt view “My dad loved space, he was always so intrigued by it, he’d sit for hours at his telescope just looking. He never really liked football, but that was the thing we could talk about, instead of watching a game together we’d go look at the stars together” Mia laughed gently to herself at the memory, “Mum would hate how many space documentaries we’d watch, one Sunday he promised it would be finished before Barcelona played, it didn’t. She missed the first half, she was so angry she refused to cook dinner.” Mia swallowed as she seemed to catch herself, she glanced seeing Alexia watching her and lowered her gaze, “Anyway, you didn’t come here to listen to me witter on about space”

“I like listening to you.. it’s cute when you speak English” Alexia smiled proudly when Mia rolled her eyes shaking her head

“I’ll push you in the pool”

“You wouldn’t dare”

Mia looked to Alexia a playful glint in her eye, “You clearly don’t know me very well”

“You’d actually push me in the pool”

Mia smiled as the water bottle came to her lips humming as she nodded before taking a sip.

“When you think you know someone” Alexia jokingly shook her head, before she knew it. She was in the pool, Mia on the side laughing at her as she popped back up.

Mia was laughing it soon faded when she saw Alexia’s face, “No, don’t even think about it” Mia pointed at her, “Alexia” Mia couldn’t help but laugh when Alexia took hold of an ankle. “I’m sorry”

“Oh well” Alexia took her hand and pulled her in to.

Alexia was laughing when Mia appeared back through the top of the water, it was a beautiful sound Mia could listen to it forever. It faded when they realised just how close they were floating. Mia’s favourite thing about Alexia was quickly becoming her eyes, her dark brown eyes that always seemed to draw her in. Even when Alexia had nothing nice to say they were the softest part of her. They’d change colour in the sun and become brighter, they’d glint when she was feeling cheeky. 

Mia got goosebumps when Alexia’s arm slipped around her waist gently gripping her waist as she helped hold her up, it was an excuse to be closer in truth. Mia slipped her arms around her neck and they held each other silently for what felt like an eternity. But it still felt not long enough when Mia felt Alexia start to pull away, she smiled feeling her peck her check. Mia let her arms fall her hands resting on Alexia’s strong shoulders instead she spotted Alexia swallow a nervous lump in her throat. Mia whispered when Alexia’s eyes trained to her lips, “What you waiting for?” Alexia’s eyes shot back to Mia’s own, “Mapi isn’t coming”

Alexia let a simple breath push out in amusement, a warm feeling washed through Mia as Alexia came closer, it felt like fireworks going off inside her as her face leaned in closer. Their lips brushed together, tentatively. It was brief, sweet, innocent and she expected nothing less from the awkward Alexia. She’d felt Alexia’s shoulders relax under her fingertips the second their lips brushed, Alexia had been imagining this moment since the day they met. The way Mia’s lips would feel against their own, how her body would feel against the brits. It was everything and more than she imagined.

Alexia cleared her rambling thoughts her lips still painfully close to Mia’s that one simple kiss wasn’t enough. Her heart raced as she reconnected there lips, Mias body setting on fire as there lips moved in perfect synchronicity body’s pushing together as her back gently touched against the wall of the pool. The cold forcing her chest forward in an attempt to relieve the sting of the cold. She let her hands come to Alexia’s jawline when Alexia used one hand to hold her self up the other still around Mia. It may of been a slow kiss but it certainly was intense.

Mia licked her lips when they parted, both their breathing was unsteady and fast, they didn’t speak neither wanting to pop the bubble of bliss they were in. Alexia’s thumb was slowly moving up and down on her waist as there breathing was slowly becoming under control.

Mia spoke first, “Shall we um” she started when she saw Alexia’s jaw chatter very briefly, “Shall we get out, it’s a bit cold” Alexia nodded, she reluctantly removed her arm from around Mia and without her body against her own her jaw now had a mind of its own. The heat of Mia or between them no longer shielding just how cold this pool was.

Alexia hovered at the door, Mia looked back when she didn’t follow, “I’m dripping everywhere”

Mia smiled, “Your fine, it’s tiles it’ll dry” Mia kept going, she headed to the bathroom to grab them some towels. She smiled when she came back and Alexia still wasn’t inside. “Alexia you’re going to get sick just come inside” Mia put the towel around Alexia, “Please” Mia smiled when Alexia slipped by her into the home.

Mia showed Alexia her room, got her some dry clothes out and offered her the hairdryer she left her to it whilst she used her grandparents room to change out the wet clothes.

Alexia came out Mias room in a pair of her barcelona shorts and a plain grey jumper to see Mia already on the sofa the soft light of her phone lighting her face. She looked when she heard Alexia, “You, sticking around or do you want me to drive you home?”

“I’ll get a taxi”

“You’re not getting a taxi, you’ll either stay here or i take you home”

“Sorry, who’s captain?”

“My house” Mia rose to her feet with a smile, “My rules” Alexia got a smile like Mia hadn’t seen before, was this the Alexia everyone else got because if they did she was incredibly jealous. She was hot. “What you doing Putellas?”

“I’m not dragging you out it’s late”

“Ok” Mia glided by Alexia whose smile just got bigger, “No funny business though, i’m not that easy” Alexia laughed and as she turned Mia stood staring. “Why is that so funny?” Alexia shrugged, “You’ve been talking to Keira haven’t you?”

Mia got into bed moving over to the other side next to the wall, she tried to hide how amused she was with how awkward Alexia was being about the situation. It was just adorable. “I haven’t” Alexia lay flat on her back, stiff as a board, “Should i?”

“You could just ask me” Alexia turned her head to Mia and Mia was just honest, “I’ve had three relationships”

“Why did they end?”

“First one, just ran its course we were young, second, she moved to Germany for football so we ended that, Third that’s the one that Keira would say sent me spiral into ‘Fuck buddy era’ that we won’t count or get into”

Alexia turned onto her side, the casual conversation easing her into there wasn't an expectation, “Why?”

“She was 10 years older than me, based in America but it worked somehow. Til it didn’t when she asked me to marry her”

Alexia looked over Mia’s face, “Well the fact your not married tells me how that ended”

Mia smiled turning to her, “I said no, and that was that. Rather abrupt way to end something i was quite happy in but i was 24, i wasn’t ready for that and she obviously was being older.” Mia laughed softly to herself, “You know what they say to get over someone get under someone else, i sure did that” Mia looked away, “Don’t even know why I’m telling you that doesn’t paint me in a good way”

Alexia smiled softly, “Your just being honest, who am i to judge” Alexia took a breathe, “I’ve not dated in 5 years”

Mia looked to Alexia, “Not to ruin this moment but you not dating is a hate crime to all the gay women of Barcelona” Alexia thankfully smiled, “You get how hot you are right?” Alexia’s smile grew, “I’m being serious” Mia giggled, “Answer me”

“You think i’m hot?”

“I know Patri told you, that women can’t keep a secret unless it’s about who she’s sleeping with then she’s surprisingly quiet on the matter”

“Patri’s seeing someone” Mia’s eyes went a little wide, “Mia!”

“Buenas noches dulces sueños” Mia turned to face the wall smiling hearing Alexia laughing softly.

“I won’t say come on”

“No”

“Mia” Alexia reached forward and Mia squirmed under her touch, “Are you ticklish?”

“No”

Alexia laughed as she tickled Mia her body trying to get away but the wall blocking her route, Mia ended up on her back directly below Alexia’s gaze. “Tell me”

“No”

“Mia”

“Stop” Mia laughed grabbing at Alexia’s hand, she finally let Mia prize it off her but only because their fingers laced. “If you watch her, you’ll figure it out” Alexia furrowed her brows, “Watch her, all i’m saying”

The pair spoke some more before Mia was slowly falling asleep, she woke in the night and Alexia was wrapped around her. She smiled and let herself go back to sleep, in the comfort of Alexia’s strong arms.

+

It was match day as Mia entered the locker room Patri made a beeline for her, “Well?”

“Well what?” Mia looked up at her as she sat down

“What happened?” Patri looked awkward as Alexia entered the room.

“As if i’d tell you” Alexia took her spot beside her, “Liar”

Patri put both hands on either of Mia’s cheek, “I’ll find out, I always do”

“Big talk from someone with big secrets”

Patri narrowed her eyes and walked away, “I’m watching you”

“Enjoy the view my love” Mia pouted a kiss at her as she took her seat the other end of the locker room.

Mia felt nervous her and Alexia had been here before, today would be the day to see if they’d actually turned a corner or not.

Mia lowered her head as they started to hover to come out for the warm up, Alexia chose to stand beside her which she never did. “I’m serious” Alexia spoke hushed, “I want that pan cake recipe” Mia lifted her head and smiled, “They were good” Mia made Alexia pancakes in her Grandparents as Alexia sat patiently at the table watching her,

“I know, you had 5” Alexia couldn’t wipe the smile off her face as they jogged out for the warm up.

Alexia turned jogging backwards, “You promised you wouldn’t judge”

Mia mimicked the coach doing the warm ups, “No judgement just pointing it out”

+

Mia was starting today’s game, it was 20 minutes in and Barcelona were three nil up when she was pushing forward with the ball once again.

Mia was tackled and the whole stadium stood still. 

The thud was sickening the cry she let out sent chills down everyone’s spines. Alexia sprinted over to her, “Mia” she got onto her knees hand on her back, “Mia..”

“I think she’s broke my ankle”

Alexia moved when the medical team got to her, she walked away visibly worried, “Is she ok?” Keira asked

“She said she thinks she’s broke her ankle” Alexia said before moving back to hover worried for her, she couldn't just leave her side. She needed to be there for her.

Surely Mia’s season couldn’t be over just like that. It wasn’t fair. The team spent a long time with Mia before the signal was shown to sub her off and Alexia’s heart dropped seeing Mia’s face when she sat up. She looked devastated, players just knew when something was bad. It’s only a feeling players who’d gotten hurt know. It was the feeling they all dread.

When Mia was in the back she let her emotions out, hiding her face in her shirt as she cried this wasn’t suppose to be how it went, she’d had a dream start to life at Barcelona. It couldn’t all end like this. She heard a cheer go up, Barcelona were clearly fine without her scoring multiple more times. That fourth goal, Alexia scored.

She held up one finger on one hand and five on the other.

15 for Mia.

She had to be ok, she just had to be. There was no way around it.

[unabletonotlovesatoru]

as a fairly new pro-hero, you love your fans. they’re kind, they’re sweet and they love you — what more could you ask for. so of course when on one of the rare meet and greet’s a little a little girl with her older sister approach you, you are delighted: giving them your best smile and inviting them to talk to you as a friend rather than a pro-hero.

. . . that is until the little girl thrusts a bakugou plushie into your hands, causing your eye to violently twitch.

the rivalry going on between dynamight and you is something that is talked about every week. it’s not a friendly thing like his rivalry with pro-hero deku, something that has been going on ever since they went UA; it’s much worse that that.

with you and bakugou it started one-sided because you tried to ignore it for as long as you could. his stingy attitude, meaningless jabs at your handiwork whenever you happened to be at a crime scene together, the condescending look he gave you every time you opened your mouth and the way he casually boasted about his own abilities. it was all very superficial to you and your personal assistant told you to refrain from saying anything that would cause the explosive hero to, well, explode.

but at some point, you don’t even fully understand when, your mouth moved before you could stop it and one-sided banter grew into screaming matches in the middle of a crime scene, barely covered insults and constantly throwing shade at each other whether you guys are in the same room or not.

you’ve never really understood why bakugou didn’t like you so much, but your personal assistant was quick to discover that if there was one thing bakugou katsuki, better known as pro-hero dynamight, cared about it was ratings.

and you happened to one up him in every rating system. ratings were something that changed a lot, heavily depending on civilians perception of them, but you were always there to be higher than him. and you suspected that since you always mingled closely whilst everyone’s position changed constantly, you caught his eye like you never managed to do back in UA.

if you could project your frustrations into the plushie in your hands it would be instantly blown up(ironic), ripped apart and drowned, yet you couldn’t. you could go down in ratings, after all, but more than that you were concerned for the little girl’s psyche and didn’t want to traumatise her. so you gave her a semi-genuine smile and offered to give her an autograph, putting the plushie aside.

the little girl gushes on and on about how she was so excited to be here and meet you and you manage to forget about the damn plushie.

until the little girl says this, causing you and her sister to look at her in panic and shock,

“my sister says that you’re actually really in love with dynamight—”

“—oh that’s not—”

your eye twitches again. you give her sister a questioning look and from the corner of your eye, you see bakugou, whose table was conveniently right next to yours, looking at you.

“—and she also writes fanfiction about you two so—” the little girl continues eagerly, mortifying you further, but her older sister is quick to hoist her up in her hands and run away.

“o-okay, thank you for the autograph, bye!”

you stared at the dynamight plushie on the table and then slowly turned your head towards bakugou’s table. that fucking annoying smirk was plastered over his face, ruby eyes glowing and face far too pleased for you to be able to look at him for longer.

that damned asshole.

[sodapopper]

Sodapop Curtis with abandonment issues.

Sodapop Curtis, whose last words to his parents were “see ya later,” only to never see them again.

Sodapop Curtis, who finds solace in keeping the last fragments of his family together, holding a brother’s wrist in each hand, his grip tight enough to cut off circulation, nails digging deep, drawing blood. He soothes and listens and understands. This, a reassuring constant—they’re not so broken that he can’t keep the pieces taped together with comfort and love!

Except his love isn’t enough. It never was, even though it’s all he has, and he feels it with every failure, every fight that ends in shouting, teenage tears and a brother’s anger. Down deep in his stomach, that sticky ball of fear. They’re tearing each other apart. He’s losing them, day by bitter day, and he can’t stop it, he can’t fix it, he’s trying but he’s not enough.

Soda fails to deescalate a fight that ends with Ponyboy running and Darry retreating into the cold shell of his mind. After, he finds Pony’s sweatshirt in Dally’s room. It cuts deep, drawing more blood than Johnny Cade’s knife. He could’ve come home; Soda would’ve understood, that’s what he’s good at.

But Ponyboy went to Dallas Winston instead.

Soda connects the dots of Sandy’s freckles with dreams bigger than the sky, dreams of marriage and love and a white picket fence. He wants to raise her baby. Doesn’t matter who the father is—he loves her child because he loves her, pretty Sandy with the gap between her teeth and grease in her blood. He would go to war for her, ride out to a field of spears, he would tear down Heaven to give her a footstool.

She leaves him with nothing but a letter and the idea of an apology.

Soda watches a friend die in front of his eyes. Blood spurting, violent red. Shiny on the pavement. Glistening on his face. Dally had a life with them. But in the end, he still chooses a bullet to the chest.

So yeah, Sodapop Patrick Curtis with abandonment issues. Soda, who’s lost so many people, it’s no wonder he waits for whoever’s next. He holds tight with clenched fists, bruised knuckles and heart, just too sensitive for his own good. Bawl Baby Curtis with his stupid hurt feelings. A stayer left behind in a family of goers. Laughing loud so nobody will hear when his voice goes shaky; making jokes so nobody will notice the fear.

Ponyboy leaves for college. Soda hugs him tight, ruffles his hair— “When you’re rich and famous, try to remember us little guys!” Every Saturday, he waits by the phone. Pony calls with religious faithfulness, but still, Soda hears the difference in his voice. Soda used to sleep easy, but now he stays awake, staring at the dark ceiling. Wondering why his baby brother would ever return home when Tulsa has nothing left to offer him.

Sodapop Curtis is best man at Steve and Evie’s wedding. “Nothing’s gonna change,” Steve tells him, but he’s lived long enough to know a lie. Sodapop Curtis, who’s losing Steve, too.

He doesn’t go on dates anymore. He breaks girls’ hearts with reluctant ease, rejection coming quick to his tongue. He never had much to offer, anyway—only his looks, and if they weren’t enough to keep Sandy, why would anyone else stay?

He makes jokes about Darry leaving, and plays it off when Darry doesn’t laugh. It’s just a joke, he doesn’t mean it! Why would Soda be afraid of losing Darry too? Just because he’s lost his parents and Johnny and Dally and Sandy and Ponyboy and Steve and—

It’s just a joke. He doesn’t mean it.

Sodapop Curtis with abandonment issues.

It’s just a joke!

It was never a joke.

(And if Darry welcomes his little brother into his bed at night without a word of complaint, squeezing him tight when he’s restless, if Ponyboy makes spontaneous trips home on the weekends, if Steve and Evie name their first baby Patrick, well—maybe it was never a joke to them, either.)

[mzenins]

❛ far from a couple (of besties) ! ❜ ✶ ࣪˖࿐ * satoru gojo

꒰ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ──── contents: sfw, gn reader, friends to potential lovers, reader is a teacher at jujutsu tech, banter, black cat x golden retriever combo with a small side of yearning

“how come you never want to hold my hand in public?”

you take a long sip of your lemonade refresher, feeling your thirst automatically quenched by the cold drink. the ice cubes clinked against the glass and the warm spring breeze gently whistles, filling the small momentary silence.

as you reach the end of your drink, you prolong the activity as long as possible by intentionally slurping on the straw rather slowly and swishing around the remainder of the drink in your mouth before gulping down.

the glass hits the table with a light thud, “not this again.” you sigh, leaning back against your seat with your arms crossed over your chest.

“yes this again!” satoru exclaims with a small whine in his tone. he leans forward on the patio table, his hands flat on the surface.

grabbing lunch with satoru had its ups and downs. while you appreciated his generosity of inviting you out to eat with him —even offering to pay for the joint meals— and his vast knowledge of different cuisines and restaurants, moments like these damper the mood.

his knack for constantly talking about anything and everything instead of enjoying the meal and your company in silence soured the activity for you.

the days where he personally ventured out for you after his lessons with his students were arguably the worse; looking high and low in different locations of the establishment just to link arms with you and drag you away from whatever you were occupied with at the moment.

today was one of those days.

he shifts idly in his seat, “i just don’t get it— i mean, it’s not like a little hand holding is gonna hurt anyone~” a small grin tugs at the corners of his mouth due to the scowl that was present on your face.

you scoff, “i don’t even hold your hand in private why would i hold it in public?” you lean in forward against the table coming face to face with satoru as he sat across from you. you try to flick his forehead but he puts up his infinity before you get the chance, making your planned attack useless.

satoru has been pretty adamant on this oddly specific subject. saying how if you two were to “platonically hold hands” it’ll strengthen your friendship with each other. even going on about how him, shoko and nanami did it and now they’re the closest they’ve ever been.

however, you inquired to shoko about the accuracy of this statement and she looked at you dumbfounded which told you everything you already knew.

he evades your question and gasps. “don’t tell you’re afraid of physical touch, that might be a problem for future partner,” he quips.

he takes a small slip at his water and hums, “don’t you just love h2o. it’s the best, right?”

you can feel a vein in your forehead become more prominent as the scowl on your face deepens,“sure. i’m a big fan,” you deadpanned.

you tilt your head and raise a brow, “how does my love life correlate to me not wanting to hold your hand?”

you can see him attempt and fail to contain his piqued interest. you’re finally asking him the right questions.

“i’m so glad you asked!” he stabs his fork into his desert, a strawberry covered cheesecake, and silently notions the fork towards you, offering a bite. you decline by shaking your head and he shrugs, taking the bite instead.

“if you can’t even hold hands with a friend how do you expect to get all touchy with your significant other, hm?”

he stumps you a bit with the question. there’s a thin line between a friend and a romantic partner, but with having a significant other also comes with a gained friendship. while you’re not touchy with most of your friends, you still hold respect for them and put enough effort to maintain those bonds.

physical touch has never been a problem for you. it’s something you don’t really mind but would pick another love language over it in a heartbeat, if given the opportunity.

before you could answer him, he speaks up. “all i’m saying is that i would make good practice so when your knight in shining amour comes around, you already know what to do.” he’s lowers his head as he peeks at you from above the small cracks of his sunglasses.

the gears shift rapidly in your head, noticing inconsistency. you narrow your eyes at him, “but wait, i thought you said us holding hands would “strengthen our bond?” where’s all this other stuff coming from?”

satoru freezes his movements. fork in mid air nearing his opened mouth. he slowly takes a bite and swallows nervously, he clears his throat, “..let’s just say we’d be killing two birds with one stone.”

“sureee..” suspicious laced in your voice, “but that won’t be necessary. we’re adults, practicing stuff like that, like we’re middle schoolers, is strange to say the least.”

satoru frowns at your words. “you’re never too young or old to learn and practice new things.”

“true but holding hands isn’t a new concept to me, satoru.”

the waitress soon comes into view at your table and asks if you’d like to close your tab. before satoru can answer with an expected ‘no’, you interject, asking for a takeout container for his cheesecake and the bill.

you let out an agitated huff while gathering your items, “we’re running late for training again. almost every time we eat out, we spend way longer than expected.”

he snickers and takes out his wallet from his pocket, “yet you don’t show too much resistance when i bring you out.” he smugly bites at his lip.

“that’s because you force me out, i don’t have much of a choice.” you kick his foot with yours under the table in annoyance and your blow presumably lands as you hear a small grunt from him.

“oh please, you would’ve been eating away at those stale donuts in the staff room everyday if it weren’t for me.” he pays for both of your meals and the two of you venture back to the school.

the walk back is surprisingly silent. something you longed for the whole day, however, it became unnerving after a few long minutes. you speak up, breaking the silence. “by the way, i’m choosing the restaurant next time.”

satoru chuckles sarcastically, “oh? there’ll be a next time? lucky me i guess. and here i thought you didn’t enjoy my company.”

“oh my gosh will you shut the hell up.” you roll your eyes biting the inside of your cheek to hide away a forming smile.

© mzenins, all rights reserved … reblogs & feedback is welcomed.

[sandraharissa]

It’s clear that the original idea behind Silco was to make him pure evil but that didn’t pan out that way in the end but the trio didn’t get the memo so so much of s2 feels like reveals that are supposed to retroactively redeem this guy.

They’re glimpses of simplistic ‘good’ stuff like knowing the mom/Silco turning out good in the au/the implication that being evil wasn’t his fault and that he wouldn’t turn evil if he found the letter/his ghost talking about breaking the cycle of violence, stuff that would have made a difference if he was indeed pure evil in s1, but they don’t actually do a better job at humanizing/”redeeming” him than what s1 already did. They actually make him look worse like establishing that he was actually trying to kill his de facto niece the whole s1 after her mom who was his best friend asked him to build a better future for her daughter while she was pregnant with her like sdfghgfdsasdfghgf

It’s like the original idea behind Silco was to make him pure evil in s1 and then somewhat redeem him in s2 and have ppl go ‘woah’ but they accidentally wrote him as complex from the get go so the s2 follow up did not make sense anymore. But it worked on ppl anyway cos a lot of ppl are very susceptible to vibes. So even tho a lot of this stuff in retrospect accidentally makes Silco a worse person there’s positive/sentimental framing around it like warm lighting, prettier character designs or sentiments about ‘violence bad, forgiveness good’ and so some ppl started liking him NOW. The new Silco who actually never had a backbone, was motivated by personal insecurities and was trying to kill a girl he helped raise probably (so much for his love for Jinx being a redeeming quality and his beef with Vi not interfering with that cos he didn’t know her and was able to fully project Vander onto her).

They disliked him for being a bad guy to the point they couldn’t tolerate (which is fine, different ppl like different things in fiction) but NOW they like him that he’s less consistent/well-written and an even worse and less understandable person???

[glossdebut]

everything i want (a take a bite drabble collection) | MYG

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader (TAB!couple)

✧ GENRE: established relationship, fluff, smut, humor

✧ REQUEST: @joonary: hello my dear friend i am here to request something with dilf yoongi 😁 no other specifications go crazy and @beomcoups: I wanted to send you a request with Yoongi and you spend the day at the beach with this prompt "isn't that view beautiful"? It can be sfw or nsfw.

✧ SUMMARY: The best part of being with Yoongi, from the very beginning, was that nothing had to change for either of you. You could be married to Yoongi and to your job at the same time, build your career from the ground up and never sacrifice a thing. But this? Having a baby? It’s all going to be sacrifice. It won’t be just you and Yoongi anymore, living in your precious little workaholic love bubble. Everything is going to change.

✧ TAGS: pregnancy, different stages of pregnancy (conception, morning sickness, early labor, etc.), the smut is crazy but this is mostly soft, TAB!couple are in complete domestic bliss i fear, and they’re married!, yoongi and MC being each other’s voices of reason, TAB!yoongi’s murderous inner monologues make a comeback, rina cameo, baby penny <3, beach episode moment (warnings under the cut because… um…)

✧ WORDCOUNT: 7.6k words

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: blame MJ for this. and my m’lady anon for saying i’m always ovulating. *taps mic* min yoongi my womb is empty please call me.

P.S. thank you to tanni @yooniivrse for beta reading <3

P.P.S. i feel like this can maybe stand alone??? but parts of it might be confusing if you haven’t read take a bite in its entirety, so… do that, if you want!

✧ WARNINGS: vaginal fingering, oral (f. receiving), dirty talk, spanking, nipple play, hand/finger kink, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, yoongi calls reader a sl*t in bed but it is all extremely consensual, rough sex, unprotected sex (duh) (but wrap it before you tap it), creampie (double duh)

one —

Yoongi’s being a real good sport about it, but you know you’re being annoying.

Ever since both of you got home, you just… There are things that need to be done, okay? Like unloading the dishwasher. You can’t just leave that for tomorrow, that would be insane. And since you’re unloading the dishwasher, you might as well organize the kitchen cabinets. They’re a mess, and you’re putting away dishes anyway. Why postpone the inevitable?

And Pepper! Sweet, sweet Pepper. She needs to be fed, obviously. You’re not going to neglect your cat, are you? Your cat who has nobody else in the whole world aside from you and Yoongi? The two of you are responsible for a whole life—feline life! Feline life. 

This doesn’t have anything to do with what Yoongi’s eomma said tonight. Absolutely not. 

You are a grown woman. An award winning music journalist with a kickass career and a super hot, famous, rich man by your side. You’re not going to let Yoongi’s eomma get under your skin. You’re just fidgety. Who wouldn’t be after dinner with the in-laws?

You pause mid-kibble pour, staring down at the sparkly, significant thing wrapped around your finger. It’s been over a year, and sometimes you still can’t believe it’s true. Married. Husband and wife. Mr. and Mrs. Min.

The thought makes you relax, just a little. Yoongi is your better half in every sense. Your soulmate. And more than that, he has your back. There’s no reason why you can’t just tell him what you’ve been thinking. What you’ve been thinking for a long time now, really. 

As if he can read your mind, your husband sidles up behind you, wrapping his arms around you as you finish feeding the cat. 

“You wanna talk about it?” he murmurs against the back of your neck.

“No,” you huff, turning in his hold to loop your arms around his neck. “But I think we have to.”

Yoongi hums, dipping down to kiss you softly. “Okay. Let’s talk about it, then.”

With a sigh, you peel yourself away from your husband and head to the couch. This feels like a sitting down conversation. Yoongi sits next to you, pulling you into his body, your head on his shoulder.

“Y/N… You know it’s not a dealbreaker, right? Kids. You know that.”

Tilting your head up, you study his features.

Yoongi is usually so unshakeable. It’s rare that you see him truly nervous, not when it comes to you. Your relationship is so solid, you can’t remember the last time you saw him like this.

“Yoongi, of course I know that,” you assure him immediately, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek.

The two of you had the marriage-and-kids conversation not long after you moved in together. It was the logical thing to do, with how serious things were getting. The marriage part of the conversation was easy. Yeah, duh, you wanted to marry Min Yoongi one day. No shit. 

The kids part, though? That was a little harder. At least for you.

You didn’t know if you wanted kids. The cons far outweighed the pros, especially where your work schedules were concerned, and at the time, you weren’t sure if that would ever change.

Yoongi was amenable about it, though. He wanted what you wanted. Kids, no kids, whatever. You’re pretty sure those were his exact words.

“I’m not freaking out because I think you’re gonna, like, leave me or something.”

“Okay,” he says, visibly relaxing. “Then why are you freaking out?”

“I don’t know!” you groan, pressing your face into his shoulder. “I don’t know.”

“Baby,” he huffs. “This is our decision, not my eomma’s. Nothing’s changed.”

That’s the thing. That’s why you’re so restless.

“Maybe…” Fuck, you can’t sit still for this. So you stand, hoping you can force the words out if you’re pacing. “Maybe things have changed.”

It would be funny, the way Yoongi’s mouth pops open in a little ‘o’, if you didn’t feel like you were about to throw up.

“I just—” You rub your hands over your face, exasperated. And then you’re stopping in front of him, jabbing your finger at his chest. “You’re really annoying, you know. Paternal. Every time I have to watch you play with your brother’s kid I really want to smack you.”

“Paternal?” Yoongi snorts. His hands catch yours, interlaced fingers pulling you to stand between his open legs.

“Paternal,” you sniff. “Stop looking at me like that.”

Of course, that only makes it worse. He looks so fond, even though you feel more and more like you’re dying as you speak. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

“You mean how long has this been plaguing me?” you grumble, earning a laugh from him.

“Yeah, sure,” Yoongi says as he looks up at you expectantly.

You look down at your joined hands, swinging them back and forth so the warm lamplight catches on your rings. “Since we got married, I guess.”

Yoongi squeezes your hands to catch your attention, quirking an eyebrow at you when you glance up. “That long?” he asks, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to tell you until I was sure,” you mumble as your heart threatens to beat out of your chest.

“You’re telling me now,” he points out. He sounds a little unsteady, like he’s feeling just as jittery as you are, now that it’s all out in the open.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I am.”

“You want a baby?”

You nod, bottom lip catching between your teeth. “I want a baby.”

Before you have a chance to react, Yoongi sits up, pulling you into a kiss with a hand on the back of your neck. Almost as soon as you melt into it, clambering into his lap as your lips slot with his, he’s pulling away. 

“With me, right?” he teases, squawking indignantly when you pinch his sides in retaliation. “Yah, I’m just making sure!”

“Yes with you, asshole!”

two —

You feel a little stupid.

Maybe it’s because you don’t know how to act now. Nobody told you that planning to have a baby would suddenly put so much pressure on sex, but now here you are, standing in the kitchen in a too-tight dress while you try not to burn dinner.

You never cook. That’s Yoongi’s job. But you don’t know what else to do with all this restless energy, don’t know how else to initiate the ‘okay, I’m ready, knock me up’ conversation.

You’ve talked about the important things. You’ve dealt with the birth control issue. You’re taking, like, vitamins and shit now. All that’s left is to… actually try, right?

Except you’re nervous as hell, have been since you woke up to the notification from your cycle tracker informing you that you’re in your fucking ‘fertile window’ (ew!), and you’re suddenly acting like someone you don’t even recognize. Christ, you wonder if Yoongi has been feeling like this, too.

Speaking of Yoongi… He isn’t home yet, and for a moment, you think it’s not too late to just get rid of all of the evidence. Do away with the self-imposed theatrics, order some takeout, and act like it’s just another night. It’s not like Yoongi would mind.

But you’ve already committed to these stupid fucking steaks. And candles. There are candles.

It is too late, anyway. Almost as soon as the thought begins to form in your brain, you hear the sound of keys jangling and a lock turning, and then your future sperm donor himself is slipping his shoes off at the front door.

At least, he’s trying to. He’s got one socked foot out, frozen in his tracks as he takes in the scene before him.

“Did I forget an anniversary?”

You scoff, eyes rolling despite the nausea building inside you. “As if you’ve ever forgotten anything in your life.”

“Point made.”  He kicks his shoes off the rest of the way, nodding his head in the direction of the candles on the table. “Wanna tell me what this is for, then?”

You shrug, poking at the steak sizzling in front of you with a pair of tongs. “I wanted to make you dinner.”

“You don’t do that,” he says, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Well, I felt like it tonight,” you huff in exasperation.

“Okay,” he says, rounding the counter. His eyes rake over your form shamelessly, now that he can see all of you. “And the dress?”

“A girl can’t dress up every now and then?”

“Hey,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. “Not complaining, believe me. Just curious.”

You know you’re being a little bit testy. Evasive. But it’s not your fault. Is there a good way to say ‘I did all of this because I want you to cum inside me tonight’? If there is, you haven’t found it.

Instead, you settle on, “I just felt like it.”

Yoongi hums, sliding behind you so he can wrap his arms around your middle. “Just felt like it, huh?” he mumbles. You can feel his lips on the back of your neck, and it’s dizzying how quickly your body reacts to his proximity. “No ulterior motives?”

“Nope,” you say. It sounds like bullshit, even to you. But how are you supposed to spin a convincing lie when your husband’s hands are on you? Hands that slide from hips to waist to tits as his mouth grows insistent at your nape, making you shiver.

“Shame,” he murmurs, nosing at the curve of your neck until his lips reach the shell of your ear. “I was hoping you wanted me to fuck a baby into you.”

“Fuck,” you breathe. Your legs are already growing wobbly beneath you, and he hasn’t even touched you. It’s pathetic, the way anxiety gives way to anticipation so easily.

Smoothly, Yoongi reaches in front of you to turn off the stove. It’s probably best that you skip dinner, anyway. Those steaks were going to be shit and you both know it.

You’re guided away from the stove, spun around so the small of your back is pressed against the kitchen counter. The room seems to shrink around you with the way you’re pinned under Yoongi’s gaze.

He kisses you, slow and deliberate, your legs growing even weaker at the way his lips slide against yours. You get lost in it for a moment, reveling in the way his body molds to yours as his tongue teases at the seam of your lips. But then he pulls away.

“Why don’t you tell me the truth?” His hands slide down your body to knead your ass roughly, causing the hem of your dress to ride up. “What does my girl want, hm?”

“Yoongi,” you whine, desperate as you reach down to palm him through his jeans.

“Nuh-uh,” he chastises, voice laced with amusement. He grabs hold of your wrist, bringing it up to his lips to press a gentle kiss against your skin. “You’ve just gotta ask, beautiful. You know I’ll give you what you need. I’m not a mind reader, though.”

Annoying. Also patently untrue, but whatever. The point of all of this—the dress, the candles, the dinner attempt—was that you wouldn’t have to say it. But of course, Yoongi never makes things easy for you.

“You already know, though,” you huff. “Don’t be mean.”

Yoongi huffs a laugh, fingers skating teasingly along the hem of your dress. “Okay, baby,” he concedes. “I’ll be nice.”

And then his hand slips under your dress, only to find that you’ve foregone panties for the night. “Shit,” he groans. “You’re gonna kill me.”

The anticipation of the day has left you dripping for him, the pads of his fingers sliding along your cunt with ease. You gasp when he thrusts two digits into you, moan when they curl against your front wall, the sensation sending you climbing up the counter.

“This?” he murmurs against your lips. “This is what you want?”

Suddenly, all of your anxiety from the day washes away. It’s stupid, you realize, to be so scared of just telling him everything you want. He loves when you tell him what you want, loves to be the one to fulfil every single one of your wishes. And right now, while your husband’s fingers fuck into your pussy in the middle of your kitchen, all you want is—

“Fuck me. Please, Yoongi. Need you to fuck me.”

“Yeah?” he growls. “Why?”

“B-because,” you whimper, cheeks flushing as you finally say the words. “W-wanna make a baby with you, wan’ you to give me a baby.”

“Fuck,” Yoongi hisses, nipping at your jaw. The pace of his fingers is slow and steady as heat crawls up your spine. You cry out when his thumb begins to circle your clit, your eyes rolling back in your head at the sensation. “There’s my good girl. I’ll give you what you need, baby, I promise. Just cum for me first.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You’re so fucking wound up, and his fingers feel so good pumping in and out of you, it was only a matter of time before you unraveled for him. 

Wetness gushes around Yoongi’s fingers, the filthy squelch of his ministrations filling your ears. You don’t have it in you to be embarrassed by it. Not when you’re this close. Before you know it, your orgasm is washing over you, leaving you clenching helplessly around his fingers as he mumbles praise into your neck.

“Shit,” you breathe.

Gently, Yoongi withdraws his fingers. “Feel good?”

With a giggle, you nod, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Mm. We really need to stop using our kitchen for non-kitchen related activities, though.”

“Nah,” he chuckles. “Where’s the fun in that?”

As you catch your breath, you start to feel antsy due to the silence that settles between you two. Everything’s out in the open now, isn’t it?

As if he can sense the shift in your energy, Yoongi presses his forehead against yours, rubbing his hand down your back. “You’re in your head again.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, pouting.

“Don’t apologize,” Yoongi murmurs softly. “Just tell me what's wrong.”

You take a shaky breath, closing your eyes for a moment. Better out than in, you suppose.

“I just… There’s all this pressure now that we’re trying to have a baby. I guess I’m just worried we’re not… doing this right.”

“Right?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Like… It’s a big deal, isn’t it?” you say, glancing at your forgotten steaks further down on the counter. “Shouldn’t we treat it like one?”

Yoongi pulls back, eyes widening in understanding. “So… The dress and the dinner.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, and you can’t help but squirm as he studies you for a moment. You desperately wish you knew what he was thinking, but you know Yoongi. He chooses his words carefully, always.

“Do you want to do things differently?” he finally asks.

Huh.

“What?”

Yoongi grins, chuckling as he reaches to intertwine your fingers with his. “Y/N,” he starts, squeezing your hand. “You are the woman of my dreams. It doesn’t matter when or where or how it happens, our baby is going to be made with love no matter what.”

Your heart pangs at that, lips twisting in a contemplative frown as you consider his words. Damn him for making so much fucking sense all the time.

“If you want to do the dinner and the candles and the rose petals and everything else, we can do that,” Yoongi says, pausing to kiss your nose. “I’ll take my time, fuck you nice and slow. Anything you want.

“But I don’t want you to feel nervous about this,” he murmurs, pressing more kisses into your skin until he’s nosing the underside of your jaw. “I could bend you over this counter and fuck you right here, and we’d still be doing things right, as long as it feels right to you.”

Yoongi’s right. You’ve been building up all of these unrealistic expectations for how this night should go, and for no reason. The anxiety that had built a home in the pit of your stomach gives way to something hotter, your eyes fluttering shut as his breath ghosts over your skin.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, tangling your fingers in his hair as he mouths at your neck. “I don’t want anything to change.” 

“Quit apologizing,” he chastises with a bite to your skin that makes you gasp. “You know what you want. Always so good at telling me, too. So tell me.”

Here goes nothing.

“I want you to take off my dress,” you breathe. It feels like a good place to start. 

Tongue darting out to lick his lips, Yoongi’s gaze roves over your body. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Bedroom? Or here?”

“Bedroom,” you say, gently pushing him out of your space so you can hop off the counter. 

You barely get a chance to steady yourself before Yoongi’s grabbing hold of your hand. You can’t help but giggle at his eagerness as he drags you out of the kitchen, pausing only to blow out the candles you’d lit earlier.

Once he gets you to the bedroom, Yoongi spins you around so you’re facing away from him. You feel the evidence of his arousal against the curve of your ass as he slowly unzips your dress.

“So fucking pretty,” he murmurs, his breath warm against the back of your neck as your dress drops and pools at your feet. His hands roam over your body, squeezing and caressing everywhere he can reach. “How did I get so lucky, hm?”

Turning in his hold, you loop your arms around his neck with a cheeky smile, your naked form pressed against his clothed one. “Through a mutual disdain for square dancing, if I recall correctly.”

Yoongi laughs at that, gummy smile in full force even as he shamelessly fondles your breasts. “You don’t recall correctly,” he teases. “I had to put in a lot of work after that to actually get you, remember?”

How far you’ve both come since then. No more tortured longing. No more misunderstandings. No more fear of taking the leap. All that remains between you now is love. Plain and simple. 

“You had me from day one,” you insist, fondness swelling in your chest. “I didn’t stand a chance.”

It’s so gratifying, witnessing the way you can still fluster your husband after all this time. With pink cheeks, Yoongi ducks his head, attempting to hide a shy smile. “Aw,” he coos, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Do you love me or something?”

Snorting, you bite back a grin. “I do. Very much. And you love me.”

Yoongi hums in agreement. An errant squeeze to your ass, as casual as it may be, reminds you of where you are. Heat floods you all over again, a delicious shiver wracking your body at the reminder of what you’re about to do. As head over heels as you may be for Yoongi, you’d really like to get his cock inside you sometime this year. 

You catch his gaze, raising a challenging eyebrow at him.

“But you can fuck me like you don’t,” you offer. 

In an instant, the softness in Yoongi’s eyes shifts into something else entirely. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his grip on your ass tightening.

“You’re sure?” he asks, voice so low and gravelly that your cunt clenches in response. You know him well enough to know that he’s giving you one last out, that his control is likely hanging by a thread.

But fuck, you want it. Want to be fucked within an inch of your life, because who knows the next opportunity you’ll have to get it like that once you’re with child?

“I can handle it.”

Yoongi scans your features for a moment, taking in your flushed cheeks and parted lips. The way your body responds to him without a second thought, willing to take anything he wants to give you. If he’s looking for uncertainty, he isn’t going to find any. Not anymore. 

He must be satisfied with what he finds, because before you can react, you’re suddenly on your back, gasping as you’re enveloped in memory foam.

“Spread your legs, baby,” Yoongi says, his hands on your knees roughly guiding your legs to part nice and wide so he can settle between them. “Show me that pretty cunt of yours.”

“Yoongi,” you whimper, fingers instinctively threading into his hair. It’s getting so long lately, so pullable. You might kill him if he tries to cut it anytime soon. “Want your cock, you don’t have to—“

Your pleas are effectively halted when Yoongi spreads your folds with his thumbs, looking up at you with eyes that are all pupil. “You’re this wet for me, and you think I’m not gonna get my mouth on you?” 

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, surging forward to lick a broad stripe over your pussy. You cry out, back arching and hips kicking off the bed when his tongue flicks against your oversensitive clit.

“Fucking dripping,” Yoongi groans appreciatively. “Holy shit, Y/N.”

The whine that escapes you is pathetic, embarrassment and arousal warring inside you as you rock your hips forward. Luckily, Yoongi gets the hint, dipping down again to swirl his tongue over you.

It’s filthy and loud, the way he sucks and slurps at your pussy like he’s starving for it, can’t get enough. It doesn’t take long before your second orgasm is barreling towards you, thighs trembling on either side of his head as you squirm under him.

“Yoongi, fuck,” you mewl as he laves over your aching cunt, tugging hard at the strands of dark hair caught between your fingers to keep him from pulling away. “I’m gonna cum, like, any second.”

Yoongi hums, tongue lashing at your clit at a pace that almost drives you up the bed. Everything feels so fucking good, so overwhelming, that you can’t hold back any longer. 

You cum hard, a litany of curses and moans falling from your lips as Yoongi works you through it, only letting up when your hands push weakly at his head.

“You’re so worked up, baby,” he teases, although the way he palms himself through his jeans as he climbs over you tells you he’s just as turned on as you are. “You want my cum that bad?”

Your pussy flutters at his words, silently begging to be filled. Fuck. It doesn’t surprise you that your husband knows how to read your body this well, knows exactly how to push all of your buttons, but it still drives you crazy all the same.

“You’re worked up, too,” you huff as you snake your hand under his, feeling the way his erection strains against his jeans. He’s so fucking hard.

“Of course I am,” he agrees, chuckling at your impatience. He pulls his shirt over his head as he speaks, moving to deal with his jeans next. “I’ve got my girl cumming so easily for me, begging for my cock. Why wouldn’t I be worked up?”

“Then fucking do something about it,” you whine, mouth watering when his cock springs free in front of you. You need him inside you yesterday.

In a flash, you’re flipped over roughly so you’re flat on your stomach. 

“So fucking impatient,” Yoongi growls, delivering a sharp slap to your ass that makes you moan.

You feel the heat of his hand dip between your thighs, fingers sliding over your slippery folds, and you can’t help but push your ass back against his touch, knees spreading as wide as they’ll go.

“Look at you. You’re desperate for it.” He sounds almost amazed. You whimper when he slides his fingers from your core, replacing them with the blunt head of his cock. “Well since you wanna act like a slut, I guess I have to fuck you like one, hm?”

Yes. Fucking. Please.

“Please,” you breathe, arching your back prettily for him, wiggling your hips in a way that makes him hiss. “Want it, please.”

Yoongi teases you for a moment, rubbing his tip through your soaked folds, but then the warmth of his body disappears from behind you. “Nah. I changed my mind,” he finally says, smacking your ass once more. “Turn over. I wanna see your face when I cum inside this pussy.”

Oh.

You’ve never moved so fucking fast in your life. Within seconds you’re on your back, and Yoongi doesn’t waste any time either, slotting his body between your legs with ease. You both moan when he finally slides into you, one of his hands coming up to cradle your face.

Yoongi’s always been so patient, much more patient than you. He gives you time to adjust to the stretch of him, his thumb sweetly caressing your cheek as you look into each other's eyes.

But that’s pretty much all the grace you get.

Once he’s sure you’re ready, the first snap of his hips has you reeling, your eyes rolling back in your head. And then he’s fucking you for real, setting a pace that has you crying out his name.

“Fuckin’ love being inside you,” he grunts, his eyes fixed on where your bodies meet so he can watch the way his cock slides in and out of you. “Pussy was made for me, wasn’t it, baby?”

You don’t think you could speak if you tried, too high on the feeling of Yoongi’s cock hitting that place inside you that makes you see stars. Instead, you turn your head, craning your neck until you can get the thumb that was rubbing your cheek into your mouth.

You love Yoongi’s hands. Love how strong and capable they are, love how gentle they can be even when he’s fucking you this hard. You could live and die with Yoongi’s fingers in your mouth and you’d be a happy, happy woman.

Yoongi groans, his thrusts growing rougher as you wrap your lips around his thumb and suck. “There’s my good girl,” he praises. “Fuck, you’re so pretty, baby.”

You preen at the praise, looking up at him through your lashes as you moan around the digit. But then Yoongi’s using his free hand to hitch your leg around his hip, driving his cock even deeper into you somehow, and you’re pulling off of his thumb with a sob.

“Yoongi! F-fuck, it’s too much—”

“You begged for this,” he growls. His thumb, slick with your spit, travels down to circle a nipple, your breath getting caught in your throat when he adds his forefinger and pinches. “You said you could handle it. So take it.”

He keeps fucking into you, rough and relentless, and even though you’ve been reduced to a sobbing mess, it feels so fucking good. So you do what he says and take what he’s giving you.

Satisfied, Yoongi dips down to lave his tongue over your other nipple, sucking it into his mouth as your hands fly to grasp at his hair.

“Nnnghh, Y-yoongi,” you moan. “Feels so g-good.”

With one final flick of his tongue against your breast, he comes back up to kiss you, his mouth moving against yours with an urgency that takes your breath away.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips, pressing his forehead against yours. His hands come up to cradle your face again, wiping errant tears from your cheeks. “Love you so much.”

“Love you too,” you sob, using the much-needed reprieve to catch your breath.

“Taking me so good,” he breathes, thrusts growing erratic as he pants against your mouth. “Can’t wait to give you a baby.”

You moan, clenching around him in response. “Need you to cum,” you pant, delirious. “Please, Yoongi, wan’ you to fill me up.”

“Fuck,” he moans, eyes squeezing shut as if he’s pained. “‘M gonna. Gonna fill you up so good, baby. Do me a favor and rub your clit for me, m’kay my love?”

You do as you’re told, slipping a hand between your sweaty bodies. It’s not going to take much at this point, not with how desperate he looks above you. He’s a fucking sight for sore eyes, lips bitten and pupils blown as he tracks the movement of your hand.

“Shit, you’re so sexy,” he groans. “Gonna cum.”

You’re right there with him, both of you moving in perfect synchrony as you chase your release. All it takes is a few passes of your fingers over your clit before your vision goes white, a sob escaping your throat as you feel Yoongi spill into you with a groan.

You cling to him, arms wrapped around his neck as he presses sloppy kisses to your naked shoulder. “God,” you breathe, thighs shaking when you stretch your legs out.

You both gasp for breath, skin sticking together from the sweat that’s been created between you.

“Yoongi?” you mumble. He hums, lifting his head to look down at you. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asks, brows furrowing in confusion. Then, he grins tiredly. “For giving you the creampie of the century?”

“Ew,” you huff, flicking his forehead weakly. “No, idiot. For getting me out of my head.”

You know he knows what you mean. That’s what you do for each other. Yoongi knows how to calm you down like no one else, and you know you do the same for him. It’s a perfect give and take. 

“I don’t know if this will be… If this is the time that’s gonna give us a baby,” you continue, lips twisting as your eyes water slightly. “But I can’t imagine a better man to be the father of my child. I just want you to know that.”

Yoongi softens, taking in your words. Wordlessly, he dips down, eyes fluttering shut as he kisses you tenderly.

“You are the most incredible woman I’ve ever met,” he says, his voice gentle. “I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.”

The two of you lay there for a long time, bodies tangled together as you process everything that just happened. What it means for both of you.

The best part of being with Yoongi, from the very beginning, was that nothing had to change for either of you. You could be married to Yoongi and to your job at the same time, build your career from the ground up and never sacrifice a thing.

But this? Having a baby? It’s all going to be sacrifice. It won’t be just you and Yoongi anymore, living in your precious little workaholic love bubble. Everything is going to change. 

Funnily enough, nothing has ever felt more right.

three —

It stands to reason that you find out that you’re pregnant in the office of Look Here Magazine. Where else?

You had your suspicions this morning, when you rolled out of bed nauseous as hell. But you also had an important interview scheduled for this afternoon—surely, you were just anxious about that. But the interview went great, and you still felt like shit afterwards. 

And then you got sick. Like, really sick. In the bathroom of the store you’d stopped at to grab some ginger ale, hoping that would help with the nausea.

Instead of ginger ale, though, you watched with no small amount of shame as the clerk at the register rang up a pregnancy test for you, eyeing you with thinly veiled judgement. Whatever. Jealous bitch needs to get laid.

So here you are, locked in the single stall restroom at your office, staring down at two pink lines. Fuck.

You’re shaking like a leaf. You’re fucking giddy, of course you are, but holy shit. It’s real now. It’s real, and you’re at work, and Yoongi is at his studio, and all you want to do is call him and tell him the news. Because you’re overjoyed, but you’re also terrified, and when you get like this, he’s the only one who can make you feel better.

But you can’t. You don’t want to tell him over the phone. You want to see his reaction in real time, see the gummy smile you love so much, feel his warmth when he pulls you into his arms, kiss him stupid.

So instead, you pick your phone up with trembling hands and snap a picture, sending it straight to Rina. 

It’s five in the morning in Athens. You know she won’t see it for another few hours. But it still calms you down enough to clean up and exit the bathroom, returning to your desk on shaky legs.

★ ★ ★

You can’t wait, as it turns out.

It’s seven in the evening. You got off of work less than thirty minutes ago, and you’re already all the way across town, riding in an ostentatiously large elevator to get to your husband’s swanky ass studio. You definitely broke several traffic laws to get here so fast, but you don’t care. Who knows when Yoongi will get home? You need to tell him now.

When the elevator doors slide open, allowing you to step foot onto Yoongi’s floor, you start to feel sick again. For a different reason this time. 

You know Yoongi’s going to be just as psyched as you are, but still, what if he’s not? What if he’s scared shitless and all of a sudden he changes his mind about this? You both wanted a baby, but it sure as shit feels completely different now that it’s real.

You don’t know what you’re going to do if he has a change of heart. Fuck. Flee the country, probably.

You put one foot in front of the other, following the familiar path to Yoongi’s studio. Your heart races as you punch in the code you know by heart, gut twisting as the whir of the lock fills your ears. And then you’re stepping inside, slipping your shoes off at the door with the expression of a sighted rabbit on your face.

Yoongi spins around in his chair, eyes widening at your unexpected presence. “Hey,” he greets, visibly puzzled as he gets up to pull you into a hug. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Hey,” you breathe, heartbeat thrumming in your ears. But still, it feels nice to be in his arms after the day you’ve had. “I didn’t know I was. Sorry if I’m interrupting.”

“Nah, don’t apologize. I need a break anyway,” he says, pulling away to study your face. “Everything okay?”

“Um!” you squeak out, grabbing his hands to pull him towards the couch in the corner of his studio, sinking down on the worn leather. You stare down at the material beneath you. He really needs to replace this thing. “Yes? I think so. I hope so.”

“You’re scaring the piss out of me, Y/N,” he huffs, settling down next to you. Gently, his fingers grasp your chin, lifting your head so you’re looking straight at him. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Swallowing thickly, you shift your bag into your lap, digging around in it for a moment until you can procure what you need. Shakily, you hold out two positive pregnancy tests for him to see. God, pregnancy is so gross. You’re holding pee sticks in your hand.

“I’m, um…���

“You’re pregnant,” Yoongi breathes, eyes widening in amazement as he stares at the little lines. Tearing his eyes away, he gapes at you. “You’re pregnant? We’re going to have a baby?”

“I think so,” you say, chewing at your bottom lip nervously.

“Shit,” he says, grinning so wide you can’t help but return it. “We’re going to be parents!”

Before you know it, tears are streaming down your face, even as you laugh in disbelief along with him. You never should’ve doubted him, not even for a second.

“We’re going to be parents,” you sob, still clutching the positive tests in your hand as you speak through your tears. “Can I put these down? It’s so gross. I peed on these.”

Laughing, Yoongi takes the tests from your hand and sets them aside, pulling you into his lap so he can kiss you silly. “Fuck,” he murmurs, breaking away with a sniffle. “I’m so happy.”

Fuck. He can’t do that. He can’t cry, too. You don’t think you can take it.

“Me too,” you say, wiping at your eyes. Then you smack his shoulder, sniffling yourself. “You can’t cry, stupid. You’re supposed to be the strong one.”

Another laugh bubbles up from his throat, nothing but fondness and joy in his watery eyes. “I think for the next nine months, you’re one hundred percent going to be the strong one,” he says, staring down at your belly with awe.

It’s crazy. There’s nothing there yet, but yes there is.

“Yoongi,” you whimper, mouth twisting as you try to hold back another wave of tears. “We’re going to be parents.”

“We’re going to be parents,” he repeats, swallowing thickly as he meets your eyes again. “Fuck.”

“Fuck,” you agree. You’re delirious, so happy you think you could pass out. “I love you.”

Pulling you into a tight hug, Yoongi rubs your back soothingly. “I love you so much, baby,” he breathes as he nuzzles into your hair.

Nothing has ever felt more right.

four —

Yoongi is going to kill somebody. It’s only a matter of time.

He was close, in that stupid fucking airport. It was going to be that bitchy flight attendant. It was. She’d been testing his patience all goddamn morning, getting testy every time he asked for updates on his flight, and Yoongi was already barely hanging on by a thread. But then he could practically hear your voice in his ear. Don’t be a jackass. It’s not her fault your flight is delayed, you’d say. Because you’re his voice of reason when he can’t keep himself in check.

So the flight attendant was spared.

Then, it was going to be the snot-nosed little brat that kept kicking the back of Yoongi’s seat the whole way home. He had booked the flight last minute, unable to upgrade past economy. Which was fine. It’s not like Yoongi’s a snob!

He was just already pissed off. He wanted—no, needed—to be with you, instead of cruising at 35,000 feet, stuck in his very own personal saw trap. But you’d insisted he go on this stupid ass work trip, eviscerating every single logical objection he tried to make. You were impossible to reason with lately. 

So there he was.

In the end, the kid was spared, too. Only because throttling a child would probably look really bad for him, considering the circumstances.

The universe just seemed to be working against him, even after the plane touched down on the tarmac. Because of course! Of course it took him forever to find his stupid suitcase. Of course it took him even longer to get an Uber. Of course there was traffic on the way! Why not? What’s one more ‘fuck you, Min Yoongi’?

And of course, when he finally makes it, when he’s panting and out of breath, suitcase in hand as he searches wildly for the room number he was texted, the first person he sees is not you.

“Well look what the cat dragged in!”

Yeah, Rina might not make it. He’s sure you’ll understand.

Yoongi appreciates Rina, he really does. He tries to be there for you when you need him, but sometimes, despite his best efforts, he can’t be. It’s just the way life works. But Rina always steps in when she’s needed. Today is a great example.

That being said, Rina also has a tendency to step in when she’s not needed. Or particularly wanted. Like the entire past month, living in his guest bedroom to dote on you even though—apart from the work trip you insisted he go on—Yoongi has literally been working from home since month six, at your beck and call. 

Yoongi gets it. Rina is your best friend. He knows you’ve been elated to have her closeby this past month. But still, Yoongi would’ve paid for a hotel room for her or something. It’s been a little weird trying to, like, fuck his super hot pregnant wife knowing her best friend is just across the hall.

“Hi, Rina,” he says, deadpan even as he’s catching his breath. “Wanna point me in the direction of my wife?”

“She’s piiiiiissed at you,” Rina sing-songs, grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

Yoongi’s eye twitches.

“Because I’m late?” he guesses.

“Because you impregnated her in the first place.”

“Great,” he says, choosing not to engage. He points at a door. “There?”

“Good luck, champ,” Rina says in response, waving him through. Like he needs fucking permission to see you. Don’t engage don’t engage don’t engage.

Huffing, he opens the door to what he can only hope is actually your room, closing it softly behind him.

“Yoongi,” you warble.

There you are.

Suddenly, it’s like none of the events that have transpired today matter one fucking bit. Not the frantic voicemail he’d woken up to, the delayed flight, the bratty kid, none of it.

You look like an angel. A very pregnant, very stressed angel, but his angel nonetheless.

“Baby,” he breathes. He’s by your side in an instant, carding his fingers through your hair. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“How was your trip?” you ask, leaning into his touch so sweetly. Man, he missed you.

“About as pointless as I thought it’d be. Just wanted to be with you the whole time.”

“Well, you’re here now.”

“Yeah. I’m here now,” he hums, pressing a kiss to your sweaty temple. “How are you feeling?”

You huff at that, staring up at him like he’s stupid. Or like Rina wasn’t lying when she said you’re pissed at him. 

“Like my vagina will never be the same again, thanks to you,” you grumble. “I can’t believe I let you do this to me. I’m going to make you pay, Min Yoongi.”

“Feel free,” he huffs, unable to suppress the small smile quirking at the corners of his lips. He can’t help it. You can be pissed at him all you want, he’s just happy to see you. “I’ll even remind you, if you want. Do you want me to put a date on your calendar?”

“Don’t push it,” you grit out, glaring daggers at him.

“You’re the only one doing the pushing today, baby.”

“God, I hope so,” you whine. “Get this thing out of me! It’s not fair that you get to be a DILF and I have to be all big and gross.”

A DILF???

“Baby,” Yoongi coos, doing his best to stifle the laughter threatening to break free. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. You’re glowing.”

“It’s sweat,” you deadpan.

“No, I’m serious,” he insists, taking your hands in his despite the way you try to whack him away. Despite his amusement, he’s completely sincere when he says, “You are the most beautiful woman in the world. Don’t be like that.”

“Really?” you pout.

Yoongi nods sagely, squeezing your hands. “One hundred percent a MILF.”

You groan, whacking his hands away in irritation, successfully this time. “Make yourself useful and go get me some ice chips, motherfucker.”

He snorts, backing towards the door with a little salute. “Yes ma’am,” he says. “I’ll be back in a few. I love you.”

“I love you too. Asshole.”

As he slips out of your room, he swears he catches the corners of your lips turning up, although you try valiantly to hide it. 

Yeah. You’re going to be just fine.

five —

It’s been nine months—thirty six weeks, because apparently babies are measured in weeks for some reason—since Min Penny was brought into this world. Yoongi doesn’t think he’ll ever get sick of looking at her.

She looks so much like you, it’s crazy. Every time he says that, you’re quick to tell him just how wrong he is—that she has Yoongi’s nose, Yoongi’s eyes, Yoongi’s smile—but when he looks at her, all he sees is you.

He loves it. She’s perfect.

She sleeps every night in a crib that Yoongi built, surrounded by stuffed animals that you handpicked, in a home that you two have made together.

Yoongi couldn’t be happier. 

The three of you have spent the last week or so in Daegu, and Yoongi’s parents have had ample time to get plenty of pictures and shower Penny with gifts that she proceeds to shove in her mouth at every opportunity.

It’s time to head back home, but not before a little detour. 

The weather is perfect today, giving both of you an opportunity to celebrate Penny’s half birthday the way you’ve been wanting to. A little overcast, but not so much that there’s a chance of rain. Really, it couldn’t be any better.

Yoongi’s always hated the beach, but a weekend trip to Jeju with his family didn’t sound half bad when you’d pitched it. And now that he’s here, sprawled out on a blanket on Jungmun Saekdal Beach while you shovel Jolly Pong into Penny’s waiting mouth, he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

When Penny grows disinterested in the Jolly Pong, you take a moment to adjust the little yellow sun hat you’d bought for her earlier and then lean back on your hands.

“Isn’t that view beautiful?” you sigh.

It’s so silly. You’re gazing out into the water, eyes sparkling as you take in the scenery in front of you. It’s beautiful here, it is. Yoongi hasn’t been to Jeju in a long time, and he’s sure the view is just as beautiful as you say. But all Yoongi can see is you. You, the amazing mother of his child. 

You’re radiant, glowing in a way that he’s never seen before. Even after all this time, you never fail to take his breath away.

“Yeah,” he hums, his hand curling around yours where it rests in the sand. “It is.”

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[diamonddaze01]

oh, baby!

pairing: husband!seungcheol x fem!reader, bestfriend!jeonghan x fem!reader wc: 5.4k genre: fluff, crack | au: non-idol!au | rating: pg warnings: mentions of pregnancy, mentions of alcohol consumption a/n: based on an ask by an anon! i love writing miscommunication LMAO. i'm not the best with stuff regarding pregnancy though, so if this reads bad...im sorry // big thanks to @tusswrites for beta-ing and giving me ideas for the scenes! and thank yoj to @wongyuseokie for the lovely banner!

summary: in which jeonghan knows he's the bestest of friends, so why can't you tell him your secret? read as: jeonghan knows you're pregnant. you have to be, right?

Jeonghan prides himself on being a really good friend. The best, even, if you asked him. He’s the kind of friend who remembers everyone’s favorite coffee order, who diffuses arguments with that easy smile (just ask Seungkwan and Seokmin about the infamous Jeju incident), and who somehow manages to be exactly where you need him, exactly when you need him.

He’s the one who introduced you to Seungcheol, and later, he turned down Seungcheol’s offer of being best man just so he could stand by your side during the wedding. He held back tears as he watched his two best friends exchange vows, hands trembling with how much he cared for both of you. Jeonghan even caught the bouquet afterward— everyone relentlessly teases him about it—and he keeps some of the petals in his wallet, pressed flat like they’re part of his heart.

So, yeah. Jeonghan considers himself the ultimate best friend—which is why he’s feeling a little miffed that you didn’t tell him. You’re pregnant, and he had to overhear it like some nosy bystander. Granted, it’s not like you’re obligated to share every detail right away, but he can’t help the small sting of hurt, the sense that he’s been left out of something monumental. And if there’s one thing Jeonghan’s always wanted, it’s to be the cool uncle— the one your kid would adore, the one they could go to for all kinds of secrets and stories.

Jeonghan knows he shouldn’t have eavesdropped (he knows, truly), but he couldn’t resist when he saw the two of you murmuring in a corner outside the bar, expressions far too serious for a simple night out. He presses himself against the door of his car, praying he’s hidden in the shadow, and watches as you drop your head against Seungcheol’s shoulder, your hand gripping his tightly.

“It’s okay, baby,” Seungcheol’s voice is soft, his hand gently circling your back. The quiet reassurance sounds so intimate, so tender, it tugs at something in Jeonghan’s chest.

“What are we gonna do?” you whisper, your words muffled as you press your nose into Seungcheol’s neck.

Jeonghan holds his breath as he watches Seungcheol pull back, his hands moving to your hips, fingers splayed protectively. His thumbs start tracing soothing circles at the bottom of your stomach, eyes locked onto yours with an intensity Jeonghan has rarely seen. “We’ll do whatever you want, my love,” Seungcheol says, voice steady. “It’s your choice.”

And that’s when it hits Jeonghan, right there in the cold. His heart skips a beat. Pregnant. You’re pregnant.

A thrill courses through him, excitement mingling with nerves. You’re going to be parents—something he’d always imagined would happen one day, but he never expected it to feel this real, this soon. He’s already picturing himself as the “cool uncle,” the one your kid would adore, the one they could go to for all kinds of secrets and stories.

But why hadn’t you told him? The sting of hurt starts to creep in, subtle yet unshakable. He’s your best friend—shouldn’t he have been one of the first to know? He sighs, leaning back against the car, the chilly metal pressing into his back, anchoring him. Maybe it’s early; maybe you’re waiting to process this as a couple. The thought soothes him slightly. And while he’d love nothing more than to rush over and demand answers, he knows he’ll have to wait until you’re ready.

His phone buzzes, startling him. Joshua.

joshuji: u coming in or what

joshuji: we want alc hurry UP

Jeonghan glances up, heart still racing, as he spots you and Seungcheol walking toward the bar’s entrance. He straightens his jacket, quickly pasting on his most nonchalant smile. Nothing happened, he tells himself. Just a regular night out.

Inside, the bar is alive with the hum of laughter and music, dim lights casting warm shadows across the wooden tables. Usually, Jeonghan would soak in the energy, but tonight he’s got a mission. He spots Joshua waving him over to the booth, where you, Seungcheol, and the rest of the group are already seated, laughter spilling out as Seungkwan finishes a story. Jeonghan can see the happiness on your face, the ease in the way you lean against Seungcheol—and it grounds him, if only a little.

Sliding into the booth, Jeonghan flashes a quick grin. “Alright, what did I miss?”

“Just in time!” you say brightly, reaching for the menu with a casualness that Jeonghan can’t help but find a little too… normal. “We haven’t ordered yet, but I’m thinking something fruity. Maybe a cocktail?”

His heart skips a beat. Cocktail? Oh, absolutely not. The protective instinct kicks in faster than his thoughts.

“Actually…” He reaches across the table, plucking the menu from your hands before he can even think twice. “Maybe tonight’s not a cocktail night for you?”

You blink, confused. “Huh? Since when are you my personal bartender?”

His laugh is quick, covering his nervousness. “Oh, I just… well, you’ve been looking kind of tired lately. Right, Seungcheol?” He tosses a hopeful glance in Seungcheol’s direction.

Seungcheol, clearly not expecting the cue, fumbles slightly before nodding. “Uh, yeah, babe, now that he mentions it… maybe.”

Your gaze sharpens, suspicion creeping in as you study Jeonghan’s face. “Tired? I’m not tired. I’m fine!”

Jeonghan quickly backpedals, his mind racing. “Of course you are! It’s just, well, you know, the cocktails here are pretty strong. Maybe a soda or a nice glass of water, just to keep things… chill?”

Joshua’s eyebrow arches in amusement. “Since when do you care about people drinking, Jeonghan?”

“Just looking out for my friends!” Jeonghan insists, pulling you close and throwing his arm around your shoulders in a playful half-hug. “Only the best for you, buddy! Besides, wouldn’t want you, uh… getting woozy on us.”

You narrow your eyes, a smirk playing at the corner of your lips. “I think I can handle one cocktail, Jeonghan.”

He glances around, desperate. “Right, right, but you know, Seungkwan was just saying how amazing the mocktails are here. No… risks. All the flavor. Right, Seungkwan?”

Seungkwan’s mouth opens, clearly taken by surprise, but he gives a quick nod. “Yeah! Mocktails. They’re, uh… very safe. Delicious, too.”

You fold your arms, your amusement turning into a mix of suspicion and annoyance. “What’s going on with you tonight, Jeonghan?”

Jeonghan stammers, adjusting his posture but keeping his smile intact, though his face flushes under the dim lights. “Nothing! Just… just looking out for you. That’s what friends are for, right?”

Your expression softens, the suspicion melting into exasperated affection. With a sigh, you shrug. “Fine. I’ll try the mocktail, I guess.”

Relief washes over him, his shoulders relaxing as he shoots a quick grin at Seungcheol, who shakes his head, clearly amused but in on the act. For the rest of the evening, Jeonghan doesn’t let his guard down for a second. Every time the waiter brings over a drink, he discreetly “taste-tests” yours with an exaggerated nod before passing it along.

“Just making sure it’s up to your high standards,” he says with a smirk each time you raise an eyebrow at him.

You laugh, shaking your head, your hand instinctively slipping into Seungcheol’s under the table, your thumb stroking his knuckles.  “You’re acting so weird tonight, Jeonghan.”

If only you knew.

Jeonghan wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. He swears. He’s just standing by the kitchen counter, the crinkling bag of chips in his hand an innocent alibi, while scanning the room for something—or someone—interesting. The dinner is in full swing, music humming softly in the background, conversations buzzing like white noise, and he’s basking in the satisfying quiet of being a wallflower in a room full of social butterflies.

He pops another chip into his mouth, savoring the salty crunch, when Mingyu’s voice cuts through the atmosphere like a spotlight snapping on.

“Seungcheol, man, we’re so proud of you!” Mingyu says, loud enough to turn heads.

Jeonghan tilts his own head slightly, his chip midair. He wasn’t expecting that.

“Yeah, seriously,” Seungkwan pipes up, clapping Seungcheol on the back hard enough to make him stumble. “It’s about time!”

Jeonghan’s hand hovers, chip forgotten as he shifts his attention. A small crowd is forming around Seungcheol now, congratulatory pats and cheers echoing through the room. Seungcheol, as always, wears the kind of bashful grin that makes it clear he’s soaking in the attention, even if he pretends he doesn’t like it.

“It really did take years,” Seungcheol admits, rubbing the back of his neck in that way he always does when he’s being humble.

And there you are, standing right beside him, smiling so warmly that Jeonghan swears the room tilts a little. “But he didn’t give up. I’ve seen him work so hard, day and night,” you say, the pride in your voice impossible to miss.

Jeonghan’s brow furrows as he slowly lowers the chip to the bag. Pride. Hard work. Years. What’s this about?

The murmurs of approval spread through the group like wildfire. Jeonghan catches Mingyu and Seungkwan clinking their beers in silent celebration.

“It’s not easy breaking into this industry,” Mingyu says sagely, though Jeonghan knows for a fact the most Mingyu’s ever ‘broken into’ is a tub of ice cream after a long day.

Jeonghan frowns. Industry? His mind races as he flicks his gaze between you and Seungcheol. What industry?

“Man,” Seungcheol begins, shaking his head with a small, nostalgic laugh, “those years in the bedroom and basements—”

Jeonghan chokes on his chip.

Heads whip around to look at him. He coughs, hand over his mouth, scrambling to recover.

“Bedroom?” Jeonghan croaks, louder than he intended.

A few people snicker, but Seungcheol looks more confused than anything, one brow arching as he crosses his arms. “Uh… yeah?”

Jeonghan blinks rapidly, his mind running laps. Years in the bedroom? With you? And basements? What does that even mean?

“That’s where I started making music,” Seungcheol continues, his voice steady but tinged with the slightest bit of defensiveness.

“Oh,” Jeonghan mutters, the word barely audible over the thudding of his pulse. “Music.” He forces his face to remain neutral, though his brain is screaming. He takes another chip, if only to have something to do with his hands.

Seungcheol doesn’t stop, his voice gaining momentum like a runaway train. “It was rough, honestly. I spent hours in there, pouring everything into it, over and over again—”

Jeonghan’s hand freezes in the bag, his eyes going wide as unbidden images flicker through his mind. Images that have nothing to do with music. He fights the urge to slap himself.

“And you supported me through all of it,” Seungcheol says, his voice softening as he turns to you. His eyes practically glow with sincerity.

You smile at him, your expression so warm, so open, that Jeonghan feels a twinge of secondhand emotion. There’s something private in the way you look at Seungcheol, something that feels too big for a moment like this.

And yet, Jeonghan can’t help but tighten his grip on the chip bag.

Mingyu breaks the moment with a hearty clap on Seungcheol’s shoulder. “It’s inspiring, really. You just kept going, even when it got hard.”

Jeonghan’s chip crumbles in his hand. Did no one else hear that?

“Well,” you say with a laugh that’s just shy of teasing, “he never does things halfway. When he’s passionate, he’s all in.”

Jeonghan presses his lips together tightly, his shoulders shaking as he stifles a laugh. He risks a glance around the room, but no one else seems fazed.

Seungcheol chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck again. “What can I say? It’s worth it when it’s something you love.”

Jeonghan is two seconds away from either bursting into laughter or leaving this dinner altogether. He doesn’t know which option will save his sanity faster.

“Man,” Seungkwan says, grinning broadly, “and now you’re a producer at that studio! You really made it, Cheol.”

Jeonghan freezes mid-breath. Producer?

“Oh,” he blurts out before he can stop himself. “Music.”

Seungcheol’s brow furrows as he turns toward Jeonghan. “Yeah? What else would it be?”

“Nothing,” Jeonghan replies quickly, brushing off the crumbs from his hands as nonchalantly as possible. “Congrats, man. Really proud of you.”

Seungcheol eyes him for a beat longer before Mingyu distracts him with another round of enthusiastic pats.

As the conversation flows back to lighter topics, Jeonghan sneaks another glance at you and Seungcheol. You’re laughing at something he’s said, your hand swatting his arm playfully, and Seungcheol leans down to whisper something in your ear. The way you nudge him back, your smile soft, makes Jeonghan’s chest feel oddly heavy.

He shakes his head, letting out a quiet laugh to himself. I’m definitely overthinking this.

But no matter how many chips he eats, the phrase “years in the bedroom and basements” echoes in his mind, refusing to leave.

Sunday brunch has been a sacred tradition ever since you and Jeonghan were broke, hungover, and shamelessly nosy college kids. It used to be a chance to pick apart every terrible decision from the night before—who ended up with who, which of your friends was blacklisted from your favorite bar this time, and whether that one prof actually knew how to teach or was just winging it. Now it’s all slightly more respectable, though the core vibe is the same: hungover, nosy, a little too loud for public, and still hung up on the drama of the week.

When Jeonghan strolls in, spotting you at your usual table with an iced Americano in hand, he stops short. For a second, he feels a wave of pride—he’s got his act together, and you’re clueless as ever—but it’s quickly followed by a flash of concern. So he switches gears, zeroes in on your coffee cup, and slides into the booth with what he hopes looks like an easy grin.

He prides himself on subtlety, Jeonghan does. He’s sure he can manage this without causing alarm, without making you feel pressured or spied on. Just a small adjustment to the routine. Easy.

“Hey, what’s that you’re drinking?” he asks as he slides into the seat across from you, keeping his tone light but shooting you a grin that’s maybe a little too tight. He plucks the coffee cup from your hand before you can react, inspecting it like he’s never seen iced coffee before.

“Uh… an iced Americano?” You raise an eyebrow, more amused than anything, but he can already tell you’re getting suspicious. You take in his tight smile and his sudden interest in your drink. “Why?”

He takes a quick sip and barely stifles a grimace. “Iced Americano. Really? You drink this every Sunday?”

You shrug. “Yeah, since forever. What’s your deal?”

“Oh, nothing,” he says, shrugging it off as he slides the coffee back. “Just thought you’d want something herbal, maybe? Like… chamomile? Peppermint?” he offers, trying to sound casual. “Soothing stuff, you know? Maybe something decaf?”

“Herbal?” You narrow your eyes. “When did you get all wholesome on me? Since when do you care about herbal tea?”

You stare at him, an eyebrow quirking, skepticism starting to creep into your eyes. “Herbal? Are you okay? Since when do you care about, like, chamomile tea?”

He gives a quick shrug, faking his usual breeziness. “I’m just saying! Caffeine’s not all it’s cracked up to be, you know? All the jitters, the heartburn…” He trails off, flashing a strained smile. He’s proud of how smoothly he’s handling this, trying to steer you away from the iced coffee without raising any red flags.

You give him a look, deadpan. “Han, I have one coffee, once a week. And half of it’s in your stomach now, so don’t lecture me.”

He barks out a laugh, forcing himself to look casual as hell as he raises his hands in mock surrender. “Right, right. My bad. But you should try water instead—hydration is key, y’know.” Without giving you a chance to argue, he pops out of the booth and heads to the counter for a bottle of water.

He keeps an eye on you from the counter, grinning to himself like he’s just scored a major win. This is step one, and he figures if he plays his cards right, you won’t even notice his sudden caffeine-sabotage campaign. He grabs a bottle, quickly sidling back over to the booth.

He plunks it down in front of you with a wide smile, as if he’s doing you the world’s biggest favor. “Stay hydrated. That shit is better than any iced Americano.”

You just stare at him, bewildered. “What the hell is going on with you today?”

“Nothing!” Jeonghan insists, a bit too enthusiastically. But then, maybe he overplays his hand. The next thing he knows, he’s sliding the bottle over to you and muttering, “Gotta stay hydrated, buddy.”

“Buddy?” You shoot him a look that could drill holes. You’re not buying it, not even a little. Jeonghan practically flinches because, yeah, he never calls you “buddy.” Normally, it’s just your name—or a well-timed “ho” when he’s feeling especially feisty. He can tell the second he says it that he’s tipped you off, just a bit.

And now, you’re watching him, that too-sharp glint in your eyes. “Since when am I your buddy?” you ask, voice laced with suspicion.

Jeonghan keeps his grin intact, waving it off like he’s got nothing to hide. “What? Aren’t we buddies?” He goes for his water glass and takes a long, slow sip, playing up the nonchalance. “Just looking out for you. You need a buddy to make sure you stay hydrated, that’s all.”

But he’s starting to see it in your eyes—that look you get when you know he’s up to something. He can feel his casual act slipping, so he pulls back, deciding to ease up on the hints. “Anyway,” he says, tone lightening, “I’m just messing with you,” He leans back, stretching with a lazy grin that he hopes comes off as relaxed, not calculated. “So, anyway. Tell me about what that idiot boss of yours pulled this week.”

You’re still squinting at him, but he can see you filing his “buddy” slip-up away for later. Probably already figuring out ways to make him squirm next time he tries to pull something over on you. The thought almost makes him laugh.

Despite the coffee swiping, you settle back, leaning into the usual rhythm of your weekly debrief, losing yourself in the vent session as you pick at your food and Jeonghan eggs you on. He throws in his own commentary—“I swear, that guy’s one bad review from a lawsuit”—while giving you sideways glances, watching to make sure you’re sipping the water. And every now and then, he slides your plate a little closer, pushing you to take another bite.

But in between the jokes, he’s already plotting his next move. Subtlety is the name of the game, after all. He just has to keep you guessing long enough to make sure you’re taking care of yourself… without letting on that he’s keeping watch over two of you now.

Seungkwan has chosen a sports park for the monthly hangout, a classic Seungkwan move—something energetic, competitive, and likely to end in some hilarious disaster. Everyone’s in high spirits as they gather under the bright sun, ready to kick off the day with some casual sports. It's the perfect opportunity for some fun, but as usual, Jeonghan’s on a different wavelength.

Jeonghan prides himself on being subtle—too subtle, probably. He doesn’t want to overstep, doesn’t want to make you feel pressured, but his instincts are... well, Jeonghan instincts. And right now, they’re telling him something’s off.

There’s been too much of you skipping out on things, and while he would normally chalk it up to your “weird habits” or just you being you, today it’s starting to feel... different. You’ve been playing it off, pretending everything’s normal, but he can feel the change. And he's not about to let this slip by.

First, there was the iced Americano incident. The way you looked at him when he tried to take it away—it wasn’t just you rolling your eyes. You were trying to hide something. Then last night, at dinner, you hardly touched your drink, instead opting for water—water, for god’s sake. And now... here you are, standing way too still in the middle of a busy sports park, looking like you’d rather be anywhere else. Jeonghan is practically scanning your every move.

Seungkwan’s already yapping about his plan for a “friendly” soccer match, while the others are warming up on the sidelines. You’re laughing with the girls, joking about who’s going to be the first to get a goal past Seungkwan’s notoriously awful defense. It’s all very chill, very normal, but Jeonghan’s eyes keep darting to you. It’s subtle—he’ll give you that—but there’s a difference in the way you’re standing. 

Yeah. This is definitely it. You’re pregnant.

Jeonghan doesn’t even need to say it out loud. He knows. He knows in his gut. You're keeping it from him. The way you’ve been acting—it's obvious. You’re pregnant, and you’re hiding it. But he’s not about to make a scene. No. He’ll be subtle about this. He’ll protect you without you knowing he’s doing it. He’s not going to make you feel uncomfortable or pressured. He’ll just... look out for you.

He watches you take a sip from your water bottle, and the sight of you not reaching for something more exciting (like your usual iced Americano or even a bloody beer) sends alarm bells ringing in his head. No way. You’ve been on a healthy streak all day. Something’s wrong.

Slipping into the conversation as casually as he can manage, he leans on the edge of the table, giving you his most easygoing smile. "Hey, buddy," he says, eyes flicking to yours, a little too sharp.

Shit. There it is. “Buddy”—again. He’s almost positive you’ve caught him red-handed. His instincts are getting worse, and it’s almost like he can feel the sweat forming at the back of his neck.

You blink, confused, and he feels a little too caught off guard. Shit. Did he just say that out loud?

“What?”

“Just checking in,” Jeonghan continues smoothly, his tone dropping an octave. “You sure you’re alright to just... watch today? You know, I’ve been thinking, soccer is a little intense, don’t you think? It could be a lot on your body...”

You look at him, a little puzzled, probably trying to figure out what the hell he’s talking about. "It’s just a game, Jeonghan."

“Yeah,” he shrugs, trying to mask the panic that’s bubbling up. He needs to keep this light, keep it casual. "But still, with your... situation.” He trails off, forcing himself to look like he’s just making a suggestion.

You frown now, clearly starting to get suspicious.

Without waiting for you to question him further, he quickly slides into a new tactic. “You know, hydration’s important,” he says, snatching the water bottle from your hands and taking it upon himself to force it into your grip. "I think you should drink more water. It’s the best thing for you right now." He gives you an exaggerated smile, all teeth. “You’ll be just fine if you stay hydrated.”

You’re about to protest—he knows you are—but before you can get the words out, he quickly walks off, telling himself it’s fine, just fine. Keep it cool, Jeonghan. You’re fine.

But his mind is still working overtime, running through all the signs he’s seen—skipping drinks, staying still, not participating. And every single one of them is screaming the same thing.

You’re pregnant.

He glances back over his shoulder to check on you—thankfully, you’re still sitting, still sipping the water like the good little soldier he’s turning you into.

Suddenly, Seungcheol appears out of nowhere, grinning like a fool, pulling you away from the picnic table. “C’mon, babe, time to stretch those legs. Don’t tell me you’re already done being the cheerleader?”

Relief washes over Jeonghan, and he feels a knot in his chest loosen. There you go, Seungcheol, swooping in to save the day—taking you away from all the chaos he’s cooked up in his head. You’re in good hands. For now, at least.

Jeonghan watches as Seungcheol sweeps you into the crowd, joining the others on the field. He’s grateful—so grateful—that you haven’t caught on yet. Not yet.

The party is buzzing, the clinking of glasses and laughter filling the room as Seungcheol’s birthday kicks into high gear. It’s the usual mix of their close-knit friend group—Seungkwan, Mingyu, Vernon, Jihoon, and all the others—each in their own little bubble of conversation, but you? You’re standing off to the side with that damn glass of champagne in your hand, eyes glancing around, and there’s something about the way you’re holding it that has Jeonghan’s mind spinning.

You’re standing there like you belong to no one, not even yourself, but something about the way you keep looking at your glass makes him uneasy. Maybe it’s the way your fingers are wrapped around it too carefully, almost like you’re avoiding drinking. Or maybe it’s the way you keep glancing at Seungcheol, who’s busy chatting away with Mingyu and Vernon, like he’s not giving you enough attention. It’s hard to tell, but Jeonghan can’t shake the feeling something’s off.

Then it happens. The moment he’s been waiting for.

You raise the glass, like you’re about to toast. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses grows louder, and it’s like the whole room pauses. Jeonghan’s mind clicks into overdrive, his instincts kicking in, and before he even realizes what he’s doing, his hand is moving.

One smooth motion, and the champagne is in his hand, your glass no longer where it was just a second ago.

He doesn’t look at you when he does it. He doesn’t need to. He just takes it, like it’s nothing. Because, in his mind, it’s something. He’s doing you a favor, right? He’s looking out for you, protecting you from something—something you don’t even realize you need protection from.

Your frown is immediate. Your eyes narrow, and you turn to face him, the glass now mysteriously missing from your grasp.

“Jeonghan, what the hell?” Your voice is sharp, confused, but there’s an undertone of concern. And for a split second, Jeonghan feels his stomach tighten. He’s not sure if it’s nerves or guilt, but damn if it doesn’t feel like something.

He keeps his cool, though. It’s Jeonghan, after all. He doesn’t panic, doesn’t falter. He smiles, giving a shrug like this is no big deal. “I’m just trying to protect you,” he says, voice light, playful, even though there’s a certain tension in his shoulders that he can’t quite shake.

“Protect me?” You stare at him, eyes widening in disbelief. “From what?”

His heart beats a little faster now, because this—this is the moment. He knows he’s been right. He’s sure he’s been right. It’s been building up, the signs have been obvious, and if he doesn’t stop you now, he could be too late.

“Pregnant people can’t have alcohol,” Jeonghan says, his tone turning a little more serious, but he’s still keeping it light. Too light. He barely catches the way your brow furrows as you process his words.

You blink at him, the confusion settling into something far more incredulous. “Okay, thank you for that little factoid,” you say, your voice laced with sarcasm. “Who’s pregnant?”

Jeonghan can feel his pulse picking up, his gaze darting nervously from you to the champagne in his hand. Maybe he’s just being paranoid, but you look like you know. You’ve caught him. You’ve noticed the signs, and this is it. He’s been caught red-handed.

“You are?” Jeonghan’s voice comes out in a high-pitched squeak, the words tumbling out of him before he can stop them. He doesn’t even recognize the tone of his own voice—he just knows that this is the moment he’s been dreading and, somehow, waiting for.

And then you start laughing. Laughing.

It’s loud, it’s spontaneous, and it fills the entire room. Your shoulders shake with it, your face turning pink with the force of your amusement. And for the first time since he walked in, Jeonghan feels like a damn idiot. A total idiot.

“WHAT?” Jeonghan can barely get the word out before he realizes what he’s said, and now, you’re laughing even harder, clutching your stomach like it’s the funniest thing that’s ever happened to you.

Seungcheol’s head whips around from where he’s talking to Mingyu and Vernon, his curiosity piqued by the sound of your laughter. You’re still giggling, though, and Jeonghan watches in utter confusion as Seungcheol’s grin slowly spreads across his face.

“What are we laughing about?” Seungcheol asks, his voice thick with amusement, his arm sliding around your waist as he walks over to you.

Your laughter is still uncontrollable, and you’re leaning into Seungcheol as if this is the funniest thing that’s ever happened. “Jeonghan over here thinks I’m pregnant,” you say between laughs, and Jeonghan feels a lump form in his throat.

It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense.

Seungcheol starts laughing too, looking from you to Jeonghan like he’s just stumbled across some inside joke. His arm around your waist tightens, and he pulls you onto his lap with that effortless strength of his. You’re still giggling, though now, you’re half sitting on Seungcheol’s lap, your face buried in his neck, clearly enjoying the chaos you’ve unleashed.

Jeonghan is standing there like he’s been hit by a truck. His brain’s scrambling to catch up. Wait, this isn’t what he thought was happening, is it?

“You’re not...?” Jeonghan stammers. His voice is a little too high, like he’s a kid who just learned that Santa isn’t real. You're not pregnant?

You wipe the tears from your eyes, finally able to speak. “Pregnant? No, Jeonghan, why would you think that?”

Jeonghan’s hand tightens around the champagne glass, his mind replaying every little thing he’d witnessed over the last week. The water at dinner, the soccer game, the way you were avoiding alcohol— it all clicks into place, and he can feel the weight of his mistake crushing down on him. “But at the bar—the whole ‘it’s your choice, you can do whatever you want’ thing?” Jeonghan’s voice cracks slightly, but he keeps going. “And the drinking water at dinner last week instead of wine? And the not playing soccer?”

You just stare at him, eyes wide with disbelief, but this time, there’s a trace of sympathy in them. “Jeonghan,” you say, a little quieter now, “our lease is up. We were stressed about finding a new place to live. That’s why I didn’t drink, and the whole soccer thing? I had a cold that day.”

Seungcheol, still holding you on his lap, leans in with a grin. “Dude, she had to drive us home,” he adds, voice full of playful exasperation. “And she was sick that day. You seriously thought she was pregnant?”

Jeonghan blinks a couple of times, like the whole world has just shifted. The understanding starts to dawn on him, slow and painful. Oh. He almost wants to bury his face in his hands. “Right. Oh.”

“Yeah, OH,” you say, still chuckling. “Now, give me back my drink so I can drink to my beautiful, spectacular husband, whose baby I am NOT carrying.”

Seungcheol laughs and presses a quick kiss to your temple, his arms tightening around you as he looks over at Jeonghan with a smirk. “Don’t worry, Jeonghan. She’s not pregnant. But I’ll take the champagne now. You can go ahead and get her some water, though. She might still need it after all that laughing.”

Jeonghan lets out a long breath, his face a mix of embarrassment and relief, and finally hands your champagne back to you, though he looks like he wants to sink into the floor. “Right. Right. You’re welcome. No baby. Got it.”

You raise your glass toward Seungcheol with a grin, finally able to focus on the toast you’ve been trying to make all evening. “To my incredible, perfect husband—who, I assure you, I’m not pregnant with.”

Jeonghan, though, is standing off to the side, looking like he just got hit with a truck. He rubs his temples, muttering to himself. He’s definitely not going to live this one down. Not today, not ever.

[planet-hwa]

୨୧  the remedy to resistance – 우영

   ↳   chapter 1 ; immunity to my charms

  ୨୧  summary     without regret — the last thought before falling asleep next to your best friend after finally giving into temptations, so why did you feel so strange the next morning? it wasn’t regret but an unknown emotion; unexplainable and underlying with anxious thoughts and over thought questions… maybe you should’ve stayed in your content state of immunity and denial, then you wouldn’t be fighting yourself to avoid him.

pairing     fratboy!wooyoung x reader genre     angsty best friends to lovers… and of course with smut *kiss kiss* word count    6.5k

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warnings     MDNI !!  overthinking/anxiety, mentions of a hangover, mentions of jealousy, hickeys/marking, dry humping, nipple/breast play, fingering, cunnilingus, orgasm denial, overstimulation, one line of degrading but mostly praising, begging, blowjob, hair pulling, gagging/choking, slight cockwarming, unprotected sex [no go irl], cowgirl and missionary, slight ruined orgasm

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the look of love, the rush of blood now playing   no. 1 party anthem ; arctic monkeys ⇄  ◁  II  ▷  ↺

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Without regret.

After all the years of avoiding flirtatious remarks, repressing your non-platonic feelings and staying content in a complete state of denial, you finally fell into temptation — all because Wooyoung threatened to hook up with a girl you didn’t like, the jealousy of it boiling over you. You never thought it would happen, holding a remaining belief of it. And yet, here you were, a week into avoiding him for no apparent reason. Multiple texts ignored, missed phone calls piling up in your voicemail, all from one very confused person.

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Saturday morning

The morning after the party was quiet, not filled with the usual morning rustles of the frat house. The sunlight glimmered through the cracks of the curtains, setting the room with an orange tinge. You swivelled your head and peaked over your shoulder at the digital clock on his night stand: 8:59 which quickly flicked to 9:00. Considering the exciting night you had last, you expected yourself to be waking up closer to noon.

The sheets shuffled next to you, turning your head to watch as Wooyoung had flipped to his side and was now facing you, still in a deep slumber and softly snoring. His hair fell across his face and his expression was peaceful. You observed as his facial muscles slightly twitched every few minutes, similar to how a cat does when they’re dreaming. A soft smile grew on your face as you thought about the events of last night, not the party but what happened once the two of you left.

You finally gave in to your temptations for Wooyoung, after always being so adamant that you would never hook up with your best friend, or even admit that you had feelings for him to him. But when he reciprocated those feelings? It was like fireworks burst in your heart, every ounce of love you had for him — platonic and romantic — exploded and shot through your entire body. No man had ever made you feel like that, no matter how much you were interested in them.

The peaceful state of mind was ruined as sudden thoughts of anxiety began flooding your brain, conversations that were blurred by the hangover and unknown to you if they were real or not. 

“Is that why you looked so mad just now? Because I was hooking up with her?” Wooyoung scoffed, pushing his hair back with his hand just for the front strands to fall back to covering his face. The emphasis on the last word proved he already knew the answer. He knew how you felt about her and how she felt about you. He knew that you usually didn’t care about his hookups, but because it was with her; you cared. He knew that you being upset wasn’t just because of her.

“Why would you even go for her when you could get any girl you want?”

“Because the girl I want doesn’t seem to want me back.” He slowly drifted towards you, settling himself in between your knees and resting his hands on your thighs. “Don’t you?”

Did this actually happen, was I dreaming it?

“You know,” He purred, petaling kisses from your chest and down to your belly, falling lower and lower until he sat between your legs. “I’ve always dreamt about this; how you’d look… how you’d feel… how you’d taste.”

Did he actually say that, or was I blinded by orgasmic bliss?

A nausea swelled in the pit of your stomach, fueled by anxiety and the lingering effects of alcohol in your system. You needed to get out of there, right now, before you mentally broke down. Quickly gathering your clothes and throwing them on, but still wearing the shirt Wooyoung gave you to sleep in, you silently left his room and tip-toed down the stairs into a pitiful escape.

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Thursday midday

Your exam results sat on the table next to you, staring at you in torment. San sat across from you, stuffing a sub into his mouth whilst watching as you glared at the unopened papers, his brows furrowed in confusion to your hesitation. This was one of the things you had been thinking about all week, not particularly excited for it. 

The other thing on your mind? 

Jung Wooyoung.

Wooyoung who has been your best friend since the start of college. Wooyoung who you would never have feelings that exceeded your friendship. Wooyoung who you gave in to and hooked up with, only to leave in a hurry in the morning out of sheer anxiety, embarrassment, disgust in yourself, guilt. Wooyoung who you had successfully, but with extreme challenge, managed to avoid all week — leading you to be glued to San and your girlfriends all week. He didn’t mind of course, he adored being around you, but he was definitely curious. He noticed how any time Wooyoung would walk by, your eyes would shift. It was even more obvious when you would turn away after noticing him walking in your direction. San even tried talking to him, asking what the tension between the two of you was, but Wooyoung would brush it off as a small disagreement and swiftly change the subject — because he too was unsure of the tension between you.

San watched your eyes burn holes through the paper, frankly getting sick of the silent until he plucked up the courage to break it. “Can I ask you a question-”

“I’m gonna open it.” The rope of anxiety and slight anger snapped within you, causing your tone to be more aggressive than intended which you noticed and hurriedly apologised for.

“I wasn’t gonna ask that, but that’s okay.” A light chuckle left him as he took another bite of his sandwich before continuing. “What’s going on with you and Wooyoung?”

The mention of the name caused your eyes to widen and shoot up at him, a look of slight shock sat on San’s face at your expression. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I just noticed that you guys have sort of… avoided each other, all week.” Taking a final bite of his sandwich and violently chewing the big piece, almost choking on it. “I mean, the last time I saw you guys talk was at the party, so did something happen there?”

“Did you guys hook up or something?” He let out a small laugh at the ridiculous idea, it immediately dropped as he noticed your face glow a bright red. “Oh my god, you did.”

You began to shuffle in your seat, avoiding all eye contact and feeling your face grow more flushed by the second, the exam papers suddenly becoming of extreme interest to you.

“About damn time.”

“Wait…what?” Confusion furrowed between your eyebrows as you stared at the boy, him only looking at you with an innocent face as if he didn’t just drop the most open-ended statement. He rolled his eyes as he realised you weren’t playing dumb, you were actually dumb. Dumb enough to not notice the obvious looks of love from Wooyoung all these years, the remarks of flirtatious with evident intent, the physical touches that were held for longer amounts of time to be just friends.

You were completely oblivious to all of it.

Well… you chose to be.

Because in reality: you did notice all of these things. But you had pushed down your own feelings from the day you met due to insecurity and uncertainty. Of course, there was always the hope of Wooyoung’s intent to be true, but what if it was just pure friendship and you made a move causing the awkward end of it. Dealing with rejection was hard enough, but losing a best friend in the process of it? That would be unbearable.

“Wow, you really are an oblivious idiot.” San laughed, your lips curling into a small pout. “He talks about you all the time, it’s actually a little annoying.” You kick him lightly under the table, his eyes turning into crescent moons while he’s giggling.

“I mean, I was never truly sure until the first time we hooked up. After you left, he kept questioning me on it and I could tell he was jealous even when he denied it. And it happened after every time we hung out.”

A small smile curled at the corners of your lips, the thought of Wooyoung being jealous over you sending soft flutters to your heart. San also mentioned how one time Wooyoung had gotten so bitter over you spending time together that he almost fought San over it, the information increasing the butterflies that grew within your stomach.

“Come to the movie night tonight, he’ll be there and maybe you guys can talk.” San suggested as he began to pack his stuff in his bag and ready to go to his next lecture.

Even with the newly discovered information on Wooyoung’s thoughts on you, anxiety still bubbled inside you at the possibility of rejection. “I don’t know, what if he doesn’t want to talk to me?”

“He will want to, he’s been trying to. You’re the one that has been avoiding him, remember?”

The sudden reality check hit you like a bus. It truly was all in your head, Wooyoung avoiding you, when it was your fault the entire time. Before you can give him a definite answer, your phone buzzes to alarm you of your class in five minutes.

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The living room was filled with bean bags and pillows — a setup made by the oldest frat member, Seonghwa — a variety of snacks and drinks lay on the coffee table in the middle. Yunho and Mingi sat on the floor, attempting to throw popcorn and catch it in their mouths, ultimately getting scolded by Seonghwa every time they missed and how he was not cleaning up their mess again. He was snuggled into a bean bag since you and San stole the couch, his arm flung comfortably over your shoulders, the rest of the frat members being out: including Wooyoung.

Although it took some convincing, San eventually managed to persuade you to join the movie nights like you usually would. This was also his attempt to break some of the tension between you and Wooyoung, hoping that you would go off somewhere and talk. But fortunately for you: he wasn’t there, though you held some hope that he would be. You did want to talk to him, to confide in him like you usually would when you were stuck in a cycle of overthinking, but it was hard since he was the reason for it. But due to him not being there, it would have to wait until another time.

The night had grown darker as the tv continued flipping through action scenes, the light setting a dim glow across the room. Mingi, now passed out, was lightly snoring into Yunho’s shoulder, the tallest boy being used to the younger boy’s clinginess and it not bothering him. Seonghwa was immersed in the movie, it being his favourite from the Star Wars franchise, whilst stuffing his face with cold pizza. Your head now rested on San’s lap, his fingers intertwined and playing with your hair softly, his other hand occupied by silent scrolling through tiktok. He didn’t have much interest in Star Wars but still paid attention by glancing up for a few minutes and right back down to his phone.

The click of the front door sounded through the room, opening with a slight squeak. The tv was blocking your vision so you couldn’t exactly tell who it was-

“Wooyoung!” Yunho cheered, accidentally jolting a sleepy Mingi awake.

A small smile grew on your face as you look up at the boy who walks in, soon followed by a blonde girl. 

Her.

The one he left at the party to be with you was now standing next to him, hands interlinked with each other. Wooyoung sends a quick hello through the room, as does she when she catches your eye, a sly smirk growing on her face as she pulls him up the stairs in a haste. Before he was ushered away, he caught a glimpse of familiar saddened eyes that rested on San’s lap, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of you. A feeling of regret fell over him. He hadn’t seen you in almost a week, noticing how you avoided the glances he’d send your way or how you’d walked around corners after noticing him in your line of travel. All he wanted to do was talk to you and hug you deeply. And now here he was: willingly taking the girl who you hated and who inevitably was the cause for the two of you to hookup, upstairs to his room for the same thing right in front of you.

And god did it hurt you.

“Wooyoung, come dance with me again!” She whined pathetically. Her gaze — turned to a glare — went to your connected hands, face screwing at the sight. 

“Not interested sweetheart.” Wooyoung dismissed and continued up the stairs, ignoring her scoffs.

“You’re not seriously gonna hook up with this whore, are you? She wouldn’t be as good as me and you know it-”

“I said fuck off, didn’t I?”

The girl came bolting down the stairs ten minutes later, sending curses throughout the house before swiftly leaving. Wooyoung was quick to follow her down, instantly met with curious looks from the rest of the group. Seonghwa grabbed the remote and paused the movie to watch the boy, a slightly distressed mask sat upon his face.

“Damn, couldn’t get it up?” Yunho chuckled but was quickly silenced by the sharp daggers that Wooyoung shot at him. His gaze moved around the room, noticing the absence of someone.

“Where’s Y/N?” His eyebrows were furrowed, concern lacing his voice.

“She left about ten minutes ago.” San sighed and shook his head, a look of disappointment sent towards Wooyoung’s direction. Without hesitation, Wooyoung grabbed his car keys and sped off down the road towards the university dorms, pushing through the speed limits to get to you.

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Curled up under your covers, tears stained your cheeks as you sobbed into the pillow. The thought that he had already moved on, and with his original hook up plan, was too much. It hurt more than any argument you had between each other, your heart aching hopelessly in your chest. But what did you expect, really? You guys made a huge mistake by pushing the friendship boundaries to more, now suffering the consequences of unresolved feelings. Even if you were ready to talk about it, you were too late.

As soon as he was upstairs and out of sight, you got up and left in a hurry. San tried to calm you down but ultimately let you go once your eyes met and he saw the waterworks begin to well up in them. If you had stayed just a little longer, you would’ve realised that the girl left shortly after arriving, that Wooyoung looked for you as soon as she left and when realising you were gone, rushed towards you as fast as he possibly could. But if you had stayed, he wouldn’t be knocking desperately on your dorm door right now.

Wiping your burning cheeks of any reminiscence of tears, you shuffled towards the door, eyes blowing in shock to see the man standing in front of you. Panting heavily and leaning his hand against the door frame, his eyes met yours which caused his breath to ease back to normal, just by the small amount of eye contact. Moving out of the way, you let him in, instantly taking his usual spot on your bed as you got him some water from your mini fridge, which he gulped down in no more than a few seconds.

“Did you run here or something?” A soft chuckle leaving you as you watch the boy choke down the liquid.

“Only up the stairs.” He panted through the water bottle breaks. “Why is that elevator always broken-”

“Why are you here, Wooyoung?”

His attempt at breaking any awkward tension was quickly shut down, a serious look masking your face as he looked up at you. The first thing he noticed was your tear-stained face, the puffiness of your cheeks and the red rim in your eyes. His heart broke thinking he was the reason that made you cry. His hands cupped your face gently as he stood up, finger tips tracing the tears, saddened puppy eyes looking down at you.

“I’m sorry.” He spoke no higher than a whisper, almost inaudible. You weren’t really sure why he was apologising considering you were the avoidant one. “I think we need to talk about what happened…” You moved his hands from your face before leading him over to sit on your bed. An awkward silence fell between the two of you, both of you unsure of how to start the conversation before Wooyoung spoke.

“Why have you been avoiding me all week?” He muttered, surprising you with his straightforwardness, but he couldn’t wait any longer — desperate for answers. “Do you… regret it?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“Then why avoid me?” The silence was deafening, the mumble of ‘I don’t know’ floating in the air. Your brain racked through every possible explanation but couldn’t find one, maybe because you weren’t entirely sure why you were avoiding him. He hadn’t given you any reason to, it was just your overthinking and anxious thoughts on the situation that caused you to be distant from Wooyoung, without true meaning behind it. Everytime you tried to explain yourself, the words would get stuck in your throat, leaving you to sit in an extended silence. He was sick of it.

“Look Y/N, I know how you get with stuff like this, how you overthink everything,” He held your hands in his lap, the gentle touch causing butterflies to form in your stomach as your eyes caught each other. 

“I love you, as a friend and as more. As soon as she entered my room, I knew it wasn’t what I wanted… who I wanted. Because, truthfully, all I want is you. All I’ve ever wanted is you, and I was always too scared to tell you because I didn’t want to ruin-”

His sentence was cut short by connecting your lips with his in a soft and gentle kiss. The sparks of built up tension over the years burst between you as you melted into each other’s touch, his hand moving to the nape of your neck. Pulling away, you watched as his gaze softened in yours, cupping his cheek with a delicate touch.

“I love you too.” You breathed in the broken kiss before he hastily reconnected your lips, feeling the smirk on his face whilst his tongue swiped at the bottom of your lip. Your lips parted and his tongue slipped in, the kiss firing with passion the moment your muscles danced together.

Lips pashing together and hands lingering had pushed your back to the bed, Wooyoung now hovering over you with the look of love filtered in his eyes. His tongue traced every part of your mouth, tangling itself between your teeth. His lips were plump and glistened in a coat of saliva, as did yours. As the kiss grew more lustful, you felt your core become more tense, a wet patch growing within your panties. He pulled away, a string of saliva connecting your lips, watching as your face flushed a rosy pink and your eyes grew darker. He was losing all sense of control at the sight, leaning down to place soft kisses on your jawline and neck. You turned to grant his easier access to your neck, his lips finding that sweet sensitive spot within seconds and beginning to suckle lightly on it, eliciting a soft moan to fall from your parted lips. His pants tightened around him at the sound, holding in a groan of his own as he sucked harsh enough to begin to leave a pretty purple mark: one that, next morning, would let everyone know you were his.

Kissing his way back up your jawline, his breath hovered over your lips before attaching them back to yours. The kiss was filled with fire, tongues swirling and teeth clashing as you groaned hopelessly into each other’s mouths. Unconsciously, you rolled your hips upwards to feel friction at your wanting core, eliciting a deep moan from the back of Wooyoung’s throat as you grinded into the hardening bulge in his pants. Desperate for more friction, he slowly began rutting his hips into you, deliciously hitting the heat in your pants. You whined at the feeling, your hips matching his movements and begging for more. You tugged at the hem of his shirt, your lips breaking as he removed it then moving to remove your own. To his glad surprise, your breasts bounced out of your top and showed the lack of coverage, only returned with a sly smirk from Wooyoung.

He lent down and curled his tongue around your hardened nipple, his fingers pinching the other one. He sucked harshly on the bud, tongue swirling around it and nipping it between his teeth. A painful pleasure surged through your nerves, throwing your head back with a whine. His other hand palmed at the soft skin, rolling the bud between his fingers and sending shivers through your body. The teasing motions were expected by him, but he was agonisingly slow with them. He wanted to savour every moment with you, but the wetness growing within your pants was begging him to be inside of you. Almost as if he could read your body like a book, he kissed his way down your stomach and tugged your sweatpants off quickly. His eyes were instantly drawn to the visible wet patch that coated your panties, dragging his finger over it and watching as your body jolted to his touch.

“So wet for me, love.” He placed a soft kiss over your covered clit, you bit your lip to hold the moan that tried to escape you. A devious smirk curled at the corners of his lips as he continued to pepper delicate kisses over your heated core. Your hips moved upwards to chase more friction, but were met with a teasing laugh at your desperation.

“Please Woo… I need you…” You begged pathetically, but he was even more desperate to hear the pretty noises you were trying to contain.

Hooking his fingers underneath the band of your panties, he slowly pulled them down to reveal your glittering soaked folds. He dipped his tongue out to wet his lips as he looked at you, your face flushed with a crimson red and painted with a begging expression. He kissed your upper thighs and around your core, never making contact with where you wanted him most — until he had you begging for it.

Sliding his tongue slowly through your folds, flicking up on your sensitive bud, your arousal collecting on the tip of his tongue. He watched as your body shivered under his touch, soft moans falling through parted lips as he swirled his muscle around your clit. Hungry eyes stared up from between your legs, pupils blown with lust and desire, you didn’t think you could get any wetter but he just proved you wrong. Twisting and twirling his tongue through your heated core, your quiet moans morphing to louder whimpers as his actions increased in speed. It shocked you the way he could drive you so close to the edge of bliss so quickly, feeling your stomach pulse in pleasure and your orgasm getting ready to crash. He watched as your breaths grew hitched and your hips began to lightly grind into his mouth, feeling how close you were to falling off the edge.

“Woo… ‘gonna cum- ahh” You looked down at him as your orgasm was torn away, a smug smirk and hooded eyes glared back at you. A pout turned at your lips, eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the loss of sensation, your hips attempting to chase it but being held down by a rough hand.

“You didn’t think I’d let you go that easy, did you?” A condescending laugh left him as he watched you. “You ignore me all week and think you’re not getting any punishment for it? Wow, you spoiled little slut.”

He ran the pad of his thumb over your extra sensitive bundle of nerves, your body instantly reacting with a jolt and a whine leaving your lips. Waiting for your breath to return to normal, chest bouncing less than before, he reconnected his swollen lips to your clit. Without warning, he began harshly sucking at it, your hand running to grip into his hair which returned you with a moan vibrating through your core and adding extra sensations to the overstimulation. One hand was pushed gently on your lower stomach as his other preoccupied itself with two fingers, toying with your clenching hole before slowly pushing them in. The sensation of his two fingers pumping deep within you had your gummy walls hopelessly constricting, the curling of them pushing against that special spongy spot was driving you closer to another high.

“P-please Woo, I’m so close.” You believed you would never beg a man for anything, but here you were, pathetically whining for Wooyoung to let you cum as your high grew closer. He smirked into your heat, pumping his digits deeper and earning a loud moan to vibrate through the air. The clench was immediate and he knew you were close again. He swirled his tongue at immense speeds, lewd slurping noises filled the room as he hungrily devoured your juicy folds like it was his last meal, your voice forming incoherent words that turned to moans. 

But again, just before the band in your stomach snapped, Wooyoung pulled himself away and laughed as you growled in annoyance.

“Stop teasing me!” You huffed out, exasperation lacing your voice as you caught your breath back. Wooyoung couldn’t help but find you adorable: your flushed cheeks, your swollen lips from biting them, the death glare you sent his way.

“Come on love, don’t be so greedy.” He chuckled, his body moving up yours until he hovered over you once more. You hadn’t noticed that he removed his hands, but the prominent bulge in his boxers that poked at your thigh made you well aware.

He began peppering your face and jawline with delicate kisses, the soft demeanor change started turning your brain to fog. His lips moved over your jawline and neck, tracing the already formed hickeys from earlier.

“Beg for it.” He seductively whispered in your ear before nibbling on the lobe. Lifting his head from your neck, his eye contact was instant, intense and filled with taunting desire.

“Please…” A breathy whine spilled from your lips. “I’m begging… please”

Unhesitating, Wooyoung crawled back down your body and swiftly rekindled his way between your legs, the sharp sting of his tongue hitting your overstimulated bud coursed pleasure through your veins. He pushed your legs up and ordered you to hold yourself by the knees, giving his easier access. The sponginess of his tongue was quickly met with your gummy walls, pumping his muscle in and out and covering it in your built up arousal. Your moans filtered his ears and encouraged him for more, digging his nose into your clit whilst his tongue continued to pound your tight hole.

You could already feel your orgasm about to burst once more, disordered moans and begs purified the air, praying that Wooyoung would finally finish you. Your legs started to shake, even with your hands holding them and knuckles growing white from the intense grip. He groans deeply into your seeping core as you clenched around his tongue once more, your orgasm snapping in your stomach and spilling out — more intensely than expected. Wooyoung drank up every ounce of arousal that leaked out of you, the taste becoming his new favourite beverage.

As you rode out your high, your hips slowly stopped any grinded movements and breath returned to normal, you looked between your legs and eyes widened in shock. Wooyoung’s face was dripping wet, the front strands of his hair slightly sticking to his forehead and not from sweat. You saw the soaked patch that sat between you on your sheets, a wave of embarrassment crashing over you. He only chuckled lowly, licking his lips of your essence and wiping the droplets escaping his chin. Climbing back up your body, he uncovered your hands from your face and placed a gentle yet lustful kiss on your swollen lips, the taste of your arousal mixed in both your mouths as your tongues danced.

He gripped your hips tightly before flipping you over, with you now straddling his waist and lips still connected. You wanted to return the favour, kissing down his neck and chest to meet with the hard-on beneath his boxers. Pulling them down, his dick bounced out and lightly hit his abdomen, the tip swollen and red and leaking with pre-cum. He pulled his hands behind his bed, cockily watching you as you stared at his very hard, very large cock, a large smirk claiming his face.

All of his arrogance was gone the moment your hand wrapped around the base and slowly pumped, your tongue tracing the underside vein. Your lips wrapped around his swollen tip, tongue swiping over the slit and sending chills through his entire body.

You began to gather your hair, holding it up with your free hand before it was replaced with Wooyoung’s grip. He sent you a small wink as you looked up at him, encouraging and assuring you to keep going. He had never seen a hotter sight than your pretty mouth wrapped around his length. You steadily started to bob your head up and down, swirling your tongue over the tip every few bobs, your hand pumping the length you couldn’t fit in your mouth. He growled deeply at the sensation, throwing his head back against the wall and tightening the grip on your hair. The pull at your head made you dizzy with pleasure once more, a moan trembling within your voice and down Wooyoung’s cock. His hips began to buck upwards and match your rhythm, chasing more friction as you continued to pump.

“Fuuck love, you’re doing so good.” He groaned, his voice had a gravelly accent to it.

You could feel his body tensing underneath you, showing you he was about to crack. You slowed down the bobbing of your head, stopping at the tip and suckling it lightly before pushing your mouth down his entire length, the tip hitting the back of your throat. Wooyoung moaned louder than before, the grip on your hair tightening before pulling you up and watching you pant softly.

“Y/N baby, do that again…” Practically whining your name, his dick twitching in your hands, more pre-cum desperately dripping out of it and mixing with your saliva coating. 

And you did exactly what he asked, wrapping your lips around him once again and deep throating the length with every nod.

His moans grew higher with every motion, his abs tensing every time his cock smacked at the back of your throat. Orgasm just sitting on the edge, he clasped your hair with force and encouraged your motions to speed up. Your hand’s grip tensed around his base as his high crashed into him like a tidal wave, his hand holding you down on him causing you to gag around his length — ultimately sending extra sensations for him. His white ropes spilled out into your mouth, leaking from the sides and down your chin as he held you in place, milking him of every string drop. After the final spur of his high calmed, his grip ceased and you lifted your head, swallowing his juice as he watched with a smirk.

A smirk that told you, you weren’t finished.

He grabbed you by the wrist, guiding you up to straddle his waist before watching as you lined yourself up with him. You ran his — still extremely hard — cock through your folds, flinching as the tip hit your clit. Lining yourself up, his hands moved to your hips and helped lower yourself on him, both moaning in unison as the burning sensation. Your walls constricted around him like a python, the feeling of him hitting your gummy spot as he bottomed out was delectable. You started to move your hips before the grip on them tightened.

“Wait love,” Concern instantly washed over your face, only answered by a small hoarse chuckle. “If you move, it’ll be over too quickly.”

You could only giggle in response, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on his lips. There was no time before gentle kisses turned into a passionate makeout, whimpering into each other’s mouths as your tongues twirled together. His hands moved around your entire body, grasping and pinching every inch he could reach. The simple passion quickly escalated once more to pure desire. Wooyoung began to buck his hips upwards, a moan falling through you at the sudden penetration, causing you to disconnect your lips. Desperate for more friction, you sat up and began to rise and fall on him, his hands finding their place on your hips once more.

He guided your motions with a hard grip, hard enough to bruise, but you didn’t care. The pleasure of him was all that mattered to you. You threw your head back as your moans grew higher and bounces became sloppier. How he could get you so close to an orgasm so quickly was beyond you, yet you felt the similar band prepare itself to snap. 

The room was mixing with the scent of sex and the sound of hopeless moans and slaps of skin, both bodies glistened with a sheen of sweat. People who lived in the dorms were certainly aware of the ceremony happening…

Wooyoung watched as you jumped up and down like a bunny, your belly tightening as your orgasm neared. Releasing his grip on one side of your hips, his hand hastily moved you where you were joint, the pad of his thumb rubbing against your over sensitive bud. Within seconds, your hips jolted and walls clenched as your orgasm hit you like bricks. He halted his own high to follow yours, overstimulating your clit with his finger, the restriction around him cursing him to finish himself. Through hooded eyes he watched as you came down from waves of pleasure, waiting for you to calm before his hand quickly circled your waist and flipped you over in seconds. He buried his head in your neck, low groans filtering your ears as he thrusted sloppy and hopelessly into you, biting down on your shoulder. It was seconds before his white ropes spilled into you and filled you up with warmth, his dick twitching as your over sensitive walls clenched around him, bleeding him dry.

Both panting as you calmed from your highs, he started kissing his way back up to your face, peppering your lips with fragile and soft kisses. You wrapped your arms around him and cuddled into his neck, breathing in the cologne scent that drove you insane. Sitting in a comfortable silence, the setting was tranquil and undisturbed as you enjoyed the solidarity of each other’s company before cleaning yourself up and falling asleep.

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The morning warmth spat through the small window in your dormitory, an orange glow overlaying the room and reflecting off the mirror on the back of your door — directing in your line of vision. Your eyes flickered open attempting to adjust to the bright sensation. In a state of semi-wake, you began to stretch your body before an arm tightened around your waist, followed by an annoyed groan.

“Don’t move, I’m comfortable.” He breathed into your ear, the air warm against your skin as he nestled his head back into your shoulder, lips resting against it.

“You… stayed?” You whispered, slightly turning your head to look at the boy in your bed.

“Of course,” Lifting his head to meet your eyes, a soft smile curled at his lips before he placed a delicate kiss on your cheek. “I don’t just pack up my stuff and leave.”

The not-so-subtle dig earned him a slap to the shoulder, sheepishly giggling before littering your face with kisses. Compared to the intensity of the previous night, he was so soft and full of love in the morning — not expecting any extra pleasure but just enjoying the morning bliss of affection. He wrapped his arms around your waist securely, not wanting to let go before pulling you into his chest. Wrapping a leg around his waist, one hand rested on your thigh whilst the other played with your hair almost sending you back to sleep.

The morning was nice: peaceful.

No guilt or regret travelled from the night before, instead filtered with love and adoration.

However, overthinking still sat in the back of your mind.

“So, what do we do now?” You whispered into his chest, the silence that followed made you unsure if he heard you.

“I’m not sure.” Wooyoung finally breathed out, the calm pattern of his chest rising and falling doing little to calm you.

“I don’t think we can go back to… just being friends.” Mumbling quieter this time, uncertainty laced within your voice. Wooyoung could sense that you were nervous, overthinking the situation like you usually would.

More silence followed, the atmosphere growing slightly awkward.

“I don’t want to go back to that.”

You looked up at him, instantly met with the eye contact he sent down through a sleepy haze. Although you were an abid overthinker, you could see through his hooded eyes that he was genuine.

“Y/N love, I want to be yours: only yours. And I want you to be only mine.” He cupped your face lightly with his cheek, the instant flush to your cheeks obvious to him and causing a small chuckle to fall through his lips before continuing. 

“We should try being together, and if that doesn’t work — even though I’m certain it will — we can go back to being friends and laugh about this whole situation in the future when we’re old and decrepit.”

His humoured seriousness caused you to laugh, hiding yourself in his neck and he ran his fingers through your hair once more.

“Let’s try it.” You whispered into his neck, the instant validation causing Wooyoung to grab your face and stare at you in a shocked bliss: he definitely expected you to distant yourself again and say no. He smiled brightly before pulling you into a tight kiss, hands tangled in your hair and around your body so you wouldn’t disappear.

Without the knowledge of each other’s wishes for a romance, you both granted them together.

author's note hey lovelies !! i hope you enjoy chapter two, sorry it took me so long i had writers block for a bit on this. hopefully it's alright ('>.<') ୨୧ san x reader side will be in the works but probably won't be posted for a while since i have requests and other drafts to catch up on

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