#DRAMATIC N LIARS HELP

[pinkmoontaco]

Spotlight on Us || Lee Jihoon

Pairing: Idol Jihoon x Idol Reader Genre: Fluff, Idol romance Summary: Jihoon and Y/N are forced to sit together at an award show, causing endless cheers, teasing, and viral moments. From sneaky glances to Woozi protectively covering Y/N with his blazer, the night is full of heart-fluttering chaos. When Jihoon tears up during his speech and sees Y/N crying too, it becomes clear—no matter how much they pretend, everyone knows. Feel free to make requests || M.list

Jihoon knew this would happen. He saw it coming from a mile away.

Yet, here he was, forced to sit beside you at an award show, and the crowd was absolutely losing it.

Seungcheol had nearly fallen over laughing when Jihoon realized where he had to sit. Jeonghan had patted his shoulder like a proud parent.

And now? Now, he was trapped.

The moment the camera panned over to your table, the cheers hit like a tidal wave. The entire venue shook with the sound of fans screaming their lungs out, and Jihoon could already see the headlines forming in real-time.

"Woozi and Y/N: Power Couple of the Century?"

"Woozi's Reaction to Sitting Next to Y/N is Priceless!"

"Destiny? Fate? Coincidence? We Think Not!"

He sighed, rubbing his temple as Seungcheol cackled beside him. "Hyung, it's like a concert in here," Dino whispered, wide-eyed.

Jihoon glanced at you, only to find you smirking. "Did you plan this?" he accused.

You feigned innocence, sipping your drink. "Me? I would never."

Liar.

The second the camera landed on your table, the screaming was deafening. The venue, which had been relatively calm just moments ago, erupted.

Jihoon fought every urge to groan as he kept his expression neutral, while you—completely unbothered—smiled and gave a polite wave. You were enjoying this way too much.

"Look at you," you teased, voice barely audible over the noise. "Are you blushing?"

Jihoon scoffed. "It's hot in here."

"Uh-huh, sure," you mused, nudging his knee under the table.

And then, as if things weren’t bad enough, the host on stage decided to make things worse.

"So, I think we have to talk about one of the most beloved pairings in the industry right now," the MC said, grinning. "Our audience is going crazy for these two—Woozi and Y/N, everyone!"

The camera panned right back to you both, a split screen of your reactions broadcasting to millions.

Jihoon shut his eyes. "Kill me."

Meanwhile, you? You blew a kiss to the camera.

The screams reached another level.

The members of Seventeen lost it. Seungcheol clapped like a seal. DK was howling. Jeonghan actually got out of his seat to dramatically bow in your direction, like you had just won an Oscar.

"You're enjoying this," Jihoon muttered, side-eyeing you.

"Oh, absolutely," you replied, resting your chin on your hand as if you lived for this moment.

His phone vibrated. Another message from Jeonghan.

[Jeonghan]: Just kiss on camera. I dare you.

Jihoon choked on air. You glanced at his phone and laughed. "What's he saying?"

"Nothing," he snapped, locking it immediately.

And then, it got even worse.

A special segment played—a montage of all the best collaborations of the year. And right there, in full HD, was a clip of you and Jihoon from a previous music show, standing way too close, exchanging small smiles.

It ended with a close-up of Jihoon watching you perform, eyes soft in a way that was damning.

The camera cut back to you both just in time to catch Jihoon covering his face with both hands.

Absolute pandemonium.

Even you were giggling now. "Wow, you really don’t help your case."

"I hate this," Jihoon grumbled into his hands.

You leaned in slightly. "Hate it enough to run away?"

Jihoon peeked at you through his fingers.

You smiled. The same smile that made his heart stutter every single time. The same smile that made him—despite all his complaining—stay exactly where he was.

Every time the camera even slightly panned in your direction, the audience roared in approval. At one point, the big screen accidentally caught Jihoon sneaking glances at you when you weren’t looking, and the fans lost it.

He knew the fancams would be everywhere by the time he got back to the dorms.

And then—disaster struck.

During a short intermission, you shifted slightly in your seat, adjusting your dress, when you realized—it was shorter than you thought.

The realization hit at the worst possible moment because, just as you moved, the camera cut back to your table.

You froze.

Jihoon noticed immediately. His sharp eyes flickered to you, then to the screen, and without thinking, he reached for something—his blazer.

With swift, natural movements, he leaned in and draped it over your lap, completely casual, like he had done it a million times before.

The camera caught everything.

A split screen showed Jihoon placing his blazer over you while you whispered a flustered, “Jihoon, what are you doing?”

"Just wear it," he muttered, pretending to focus on the stage.

Fans erupted.

Jeonghan burst into laughter, clapping his hands as if Woozi had just confessed on national television. Seungkwan gasped so dramatically that DK had to hold him back, and Mingyu was already on his phone, probably tweeting about it.

The big screen replayed the moment in slow motion, zooming in on Jihoon's effortlessly protective gesture.

Jihoon stiffened when he saw it. "You have got to be kidding me."

His phone blew up.

[Jeonghan]: ROMANTIC LEAD ENERGY!!!

[Mingyu]: Jihoon, OUR SWEETHEART???

[Hoshi]: THIS IS CRAZYYYYY

[Seungkwan]: GOODBYE, WORLD. THIS IS THE CUTEST THING I’VE EVER SEEN.

The captions wrote themselves.

"Lee Jihoon, the definition of boyfriend material."

"Woozi naturally protecting Y/N?? We are living in a fanfiction."

"When will my boyfriend be like this?"

Meanwhile, you were trying so hard to hold back your laughter. "Did you have to be so smooth about it?"

Jihoon cleared his throat. "It wasn’t smooth."

"You literally just gave me your blazer without blinking."

"Because you needed it," he huffed, crossing his arms.

You peeked up at him, a teasing glint in your eyes. "…Thanks, Jihoon."

He looked away immediately, ears turning red. "Shut up."

Jihoon should have known the night wasn’t over yet.

After all the teasing, the chaotic fan reactions, and the never-ending camera zoom-ins, the moment had finally arrived—Seventeen’s category was being announced.

The entire group sat up straighter, hands clasped together, nervous energy crackling in the air. You could feel it from your seat beside Jihoon, his usually steady hands slightly curled into fists on his lap.

“And the winner is…”

The pause was agonizing.

"SEVENTEEN!"

The entire venue exploded.

Seventeen shot up from their seats, hugging each other tightly, overwhelmed with joy. Fans screamed, members cheered, and Jihoon—despite his usual composure—looked stunned.

You watched as Seungcheol pulled Jihoon into a tight hug, and that’s when you saw it—his eyes, glossy with tears.

The camera captured the moment perfectly. Jihoon, the man who poured his heart and soul into every note, every lyric, standing there, wiping at his eyes as the weight of everything hit him all at once.

And suddenly, your own eyes burned.

You covered your mouth with your hands, trying to hold back the emotions bubbling up inside you. You had seen Jihoon work himself to the bone, staying in the studio until dawn, striving for perfection in everything he did.

He deserved this. They all did.

Jihoon stood on stage, microphone in hand, staring out at the sea of fans and glowing lightsticks. The award sat heavy in his grasp, but not as heavy as the emotions swelling in his chest.

The cheers had barely died down when Seungcheol, ever the leader, began their speech—thanking the fans, the staff, the families, and everyone who had supported them.

But when the mic was passed to Jihoon, the crowd fell into an expectant hush.

Jihoon took a deep breath. “Um…” He let out a small chuckle, voice already wavering. “I told myself I wasn’t going to cry.”

The audience cheered, as if encouraging him to let it out.

Jihoon swallowed hard, gripping the microphone tighter. “This… this award means a lot. More than I can put into words. We’ve worked so hard, and to be standing here, receiving this, it still feels unreal.” He exhaled shakily, blinking rapidly, but the tears still escaped, rolling down his cheeks.

Seventeen members immediately reached for him—Jeonghan placing a hand on his back, Seungkwan nodding at him reassuringly. The crowd cooed, some fans already tearing up themselves.

The camera panned across the group, capturing their emotions, before shifting—straight to you.

Sitting at your table, eyes glassy with unshed tears, you watched Jihoon with nothing but pure admiration and pride. You hadn’t even realized you were crying until the camera lingered on you, your lips pressed together to keep from outright sobbing.

And just like that, the entire venue reacted.

Fans screamed.

The members on stage noticed, and before Jihoon could even process what was happening, Jeonghan grabbed his shoulders and spun him around to face the screen.

There, clear as day, was you, wiping at your cheeks, eyes fixed on him like he was the most important person in the world.

Jihoon's face turned red instantly. He quickly turned back, covering his face with his sleeve, but it was too late.

Mingyu burst out laughing, Joshua clapped his hands like an excited kid, and even Seungcheol cracked up, patting Jihoon's back.

“Looks like we’re not the only ones crying,” Seungkwan teased into the mic, making the crowd go wild.

Jihoon groaned into his hands, but despite his embarrassment, he peeked up at the camera again—at you.

And in that moment, as he saw you smiling softly through your tears, he couldn’t even be mad.

Because no matter how much he pretended to ignore it, no matter how much he groaned when the cameras caught you both—deep down, he knew.

There was no one he’d rather share the spotlight with.

[sugurow]

Stay the night ?

summary : You’ve been best friends with Fratboy Gojo Satoru since freshman year, the golden boy of his frat, all big smiles and loud parties, always dragging you along despite your refusal to drink or smoke. But somewhere between late-night parties, quiet mornings, and the way he looks at you when he thinks you don’t notice… something shifts. And once the line blurs, there’s no going back.

pairing : satoru gojo x y/n

warnings : 18+, smut with plot, foreplay, cussing, mentions of alcohol and drugs, mild angst.

word count : 7.9k

art in cover by thatsallitchief

“You’re wearing that?” Gojo leans against the doorframe of your dorm, grinning like the devil himself.

You glance down at your square neck shirt and sweatpants, “Yeah? What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing, if you’re planning to do my econ homework instead of going to the biggest party of the semester.” He winks. “But if you want to stand next to me all night, you might want to up the hot factor.”

You roll your eyes and grab your phone. Mind you, that shirt was not cheap. “I’m not trying to impress anyone.”

He snorts. “Yeah, that’s the problem.”

You flip him off after slipping your shoes on. He grins.

“Well I suppose it’s fine, you only need to impress me.”

-

You don’t drink. Never have. Don’t like the taste, don’t like the way it makes people sloppy. But Gojo? Gojo swims in red solo cups like he was born in one. He’s loud and stupid and radiant at these parties, throwing his arms around people like everyone’s his best friend.

But only you get the crooked grin he saves for when the music’s too loud and he leans in to say, “You good?”

Only you get the protective arm when the crowd gets too pushy. Only you get the water bottle he pulls from nowhere and hands you without asking.

You don’t drink, don’t smoke, don’t party, but you go to all of them. Because he’s there.

Because he always wants you there. Stuck to his side every weekend since freshman year.

-

You’re sitting on the couch, half-listening to Shoko recounting a story about a tequila shot gone wrong, when Gojo stumbles over. His cheeks are pink, smile lazy, tie askew.

He plops down beside you, too close, thigh pressed against yours. That was Shoko’s cue to get up out of there for another drink.

“Hey.” He leans his head on your shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Why aren’t you talking to anyone?”

“I am talking. Kind of.” You nudge him. “And you’re drunk.”

“Mmm. Buzzed. Drunk’s a little harsh, sweetheart.” He turns to look at you, his voice growing softer now. “You tired? We can go.”

You blink. “You don’t want to stay?”

“I only come to these things for the vibes.” His lips twist up. “And the vibes leave when you look like you wanna disappear into the couch of doom.” He chuckles at his corny remark.

You can’t help but laugh at how stupid that sounded. “You’re such a liar. You come to these to show off. Beer pong king, or whatever you call yourself.”

He scoffs dramatically, acting like you just cursed his whole made up championship. “Excuse you. And also, I can’t show off if my best girl looks bored out of her mind.”

Best girl.

Your chest does a stupid fluttering thing.

-

Later, after he’s done fake punching his frat brothers goodbye, you walk back together in the cold night air. The party is still thumping in the distance, but Gojo’s quiet now, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets.

You’re thankful that you didn’t bother to change your outfit and worn heels despite having him mog you the entire night. You don’t get how the others can stand up for this long without taking a break on the many seats spread out the room.

“You didn’t have to leave early,” you murmur, “You were having fun.”

“I wasn’t.” He glances sideways. “Not really.”

You look at him, eyebrows furrowing. “Why?”

He shrugs. “I dunno. It’s just… less fun when you’re not smiling.”

And just like that, you’re melting again. It’s so unfair the way he does this, hides soft confessions under jokes and alcohol.

You stop walking. “Looks like chivalry isn’t dead after all.”

There’s a beat of silence before you ask, heart stupidly hopeful, “Why do you always want me there?”

Satoru blinks, confused. “Huh?”

“At the parties. You could go with anyone. You could go with a different girl every week if you wanted to. Not to boost your ego or anything.” You try to keep your voice even, whispering the last part. “But you always ask me.”

Gojo goes still. His eyes drop to your mouth for a half second too long.

Then he says, “Because it’s you.”

That’s it. Like it explains everything.

“Because I like being around you,” he continues, quieter now. “Because I feel better when you’re there. Because it’s not really fun unless I can turn around and see you rolling your eyes at me across the room.”

Your throat goes dry. “Satoru…”

He steps a little closer. His voice is low, nervous, like he’s trying, like he’s fighting himself.

“I always thought you weren’t into guys like me,” he says. “Loud. Messy. Frat-boy reputation and all that.”

You smile, heart racing. “I thought you weren’t into girls like me. Quiet. No fun. Buzzkill.”

Gojo laughs, short and disbelieving. “You think you’re no fun? You’re the only person who keeps me sane, nerd. You’re the only reason I don’t blow up this whole damn house sometimes.”

You both stare at each other. Your side eye upon hearing him call you a nerd vanishing. The wind picks up. Somewhere, someone’s yelling about beer pong.

And then, slowly, he reaches out, curling his pinky around yours.

Not a kiss. Not yet. “I’m so glad I talked to you that evening at Suguru’s party.”

“Be thankful for Shoko for ditching us,” You chuckle.

The first party you attended was during freshman year. You were sorta known but not known enough to be considered ‘popular’. You were sweet and smiled at people passing by.

Shoko had dragged you around with her, freezing at random places to greet people she knew, leaving you standing there awkwardly because you didn’t know them. Finally she stopped to greet Gojo, entering a conversation before departing when she heard someone yell “Shots!”

You picked at your freshly painted nails, looking everywhere except at the white haired man with pearly blue eyes, standing in front of you. You tried to look natural, so did Gojo. Which was weird because he can usually talk to anybody without a problem, except you. Why was he so shy?

“You coming to next week’s party?” he asks, trying to sound casual as you reach your dorm.

You grin. “Only if you’re saving me a seat.”

His smile is brighter than the streetlights.

“Always. Maybe on my lap this time.”

You roll your eyes, forcing yourself not to smile at his cheesy way of flirting. “Whatever. Are you sleeping here tonight?”

He doesn’t hesitate to nod, yawning as he locked your dorm door and guiding the both of you towards your room. He had his hand placed on the small of your back, his droopy eyes scanning around for the remote of your LED lights.

“Satoru. Just leave it, I’ll turn on my lamp,” you suggested while laying him down on the bed beside you. You reached over your desk, turning on the sunset lamp you had purchased not too long ago. The orangey-yellow hues brightening the corner of the room it was pointed at.

“Awe but the blue LED lights bring me some sort of ease,” he blabbers, like he was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince you.

“Only blue though. Red is for..” He trialed off, making you roll your eyes knowing exactly where he was going with this. “You know.” He whispers in your ear.

Sometimes you question yourself if best friends do these types of stuff. Satoru always flirts, always looking at you with a glint in his eyes that he doesn’t have with anyone else, always cuddling with you when you two get home after a party, and always lingering closer than a best friend should be. Is he just being Satoru or is it more.

You pinch his ear before letting go. “Satoru,” You warned.

He winced. “Ow! Okay okay, I get it.”

He rubbed his ear and pulled you on top of him with his free hand, resting your head against his chest. His let go and slowly his hands found their way to your back, like they belong there, gently soothing you to sleep.

Sometimes, when you’re lucky. Satoru will sleep without snoring. When you’re extra lucky he won’t kick you in his sleep.

-

You don’t hate the frat parties.

The music is always too loud. Someone’s always spilling beer two inches from your shoes. And you inevitably end up being the only sober person in a sea of chaos.

But you come anyway. Every single time. Because Satoru always looks at you like you’re the only person that matters in the room.

This time you took the liberty of dressing up.

“You’re glowing tonight, Y/n,” Geto smirks over the lip of his cup, watching Satoru trail behind you like a six-foot puppy with no leash.

Satoru Gojo, dressed in a white shirt and black basketball shorts, a back hoodie throwing over his shoulder, beer in one hand, joint behind his ear like a decoration.

“I didn’t even put on makeup,” you say, sipping a cup of soda.

“Exactly,” Shoko chimes in from the corner. “You don’t have to.”

Gojo shoots them both a glare. “Back off.”

“Ohhh, possessive,” Toji whistles, lounging against the kitchen island. “You two still pretending you’re just friends?”

“We are friends,” Satoru says automatically, even as he casually adjusts your dress straps for you, fingers brushing your arm. “She just likes coming with me.”

“I like the free soda,” you lie, avoiding everyone’s knowing looks. You won’t deny that it hurt whenever he claims you two were merely just ‘friends’

The truth is, you like going with him.

Not because of the parties. Not because of the attention, even though you know you get it pretty girls always do, especially when they walk in beside Satoru Gojo with his arm slung across their shoulders like it belongs there.

You like it because the second you step into that house, it’s like the world goes quiet.

Because Satoru never lets you fade into the background. Because he always saves you a seat, always brings you a drink, always remembers the straw. Because even while he’s being loud and stupid with his friends, he’s glancing over to check if you’re okay.

Because you feel like his person.

Even if he’s never said it.

“You sure you’re not cold?” he asks for the third time, tugging at the strap of your dress, an odd habit of his.

“You already offered me your hoodie, Satoru.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the thick one. Next time I’ll bring that big stupid one with the sherpa lining. The one you said made me look like a polar bear.”

You laugh. “You do look like a polar bear in it.”

He grins, bright and unbothered. “A sexy polar bear, though.”

You roll your eyes, but your smile betrays you.

He always makes you smile.

-

From room to room, drink to drink, lap to lap of conversation but always together. If Gojo’s talking to Suguru in the kitchen, you’re leaning against the counter next to him, sipping something fizzy from his cup.

If you’re chatting with Maki and Panda in the living room, Gojo is lounging behind you, long legs spread across the couch, one arm looped lazily around your waist.

He doesn’t need to speak every second, he just likes touching you. A thigh against yours, fingers brushing your wrist, your knee tucked over his. Like the silence between you two is just as loud as his voice.

-

Later, when the music slows and the crowd thins, you’re sitting together in the back room again, away from the chaos.

Gojo’s legs are stretched out. Yours are tucked under you. His hoodie hangs heavy on your frame, and you swear you’ve never felt safer.

He watches you like he always does when he thinks you’re not looking, like he’s memorizing you. His blue eyes wide like saucers.

“You know you don’t have to come to these,” he says suddenly, voice softer than before. “I wouldn’t be mad.”

“I know.”

“But you do anyway.”

You meet his eyes. “I only come for you. Not for the lukewarm beer, the music, nor the stupid ‘fun’ you boys claim to have.”

The words hang there. Undeniable. A little scary.

Gojo swallows. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

He leans his head back against the couch, exhales slowly.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Geto says, walking into the room and seeing the two of you curled up like a rom-com final scene. “If you’re gonna pin this hard, at least kiss her so we can all stop pretending you aren’t madly in love.”

“Geto, shut up,” Gojo groans, ruffling his hair over his eyes.

You laugh, really laugh and squeeze Gojo’s hand tighter.

“Ignore them,” he says under his breath. “They’re just jealous I have the prettiest girl here.”

You look at him sideways. “You’re such a flirt.”

He leans in, brushing his nose against your temple.

“You always say that, sweetheart,” he whispers “Only with you.”

Like a typical frat party the voices of jocks rang into your ear as they yelled out for Gojo to join them.

“Beer pong champion, they’re looking for you,” you chuckle.

Gojo groans, “Duty calls.”

He winks your way before shooting up and walking to the table, ready for another match. You giggle at his antics. There is truly never a dull moment in the parties whenever he’s around.

-

You’re back in your corner of the room, phone in hand pretending to be busy so you can avoid unwanted conversations. You hear Shoko calling your name from across the room but you know if you got up you’d get dragged into an endless conversation with her and Maki.

You flash her a smile before returning back to your phone, opening and closing it. Your wallpaper was set on photo roulette mode, the background changes whenever you close it. You had set the pictures to be of you and Gojo, sometimes pictures of landscapes.

It wasn’t weird to have your ‘bestfriend’ as your lock screen, he has you as his. It wasn’t weird to have a polaroid of the two of you behind your clear phone case. No. It felt natural.

“Y/n, come on.” Maki drags you by the arm, making you stand up from the soft seated couch. “Live a little.”

You close your phone once again before walking behind her. “I am living. Last time I checked, I was breathing perfectly fine,” you joked.

All you got was an eye roll from Maki, making you chuckle.

“Smartass.” She says as she handed you a cup filled with juice. The people who usually attend know you don’t drink. They knew you’d refuse, handing them back the cup every time they’d try and convince you to at least try whatever concoction they created. Probably a mixture of don julio and hennessy. The liquor Satoru usually drinks if he wants to change it up from his usual beers.

It’s sort of weird. Satoru doesn’t smell bad per say. He smelt like a hint of alcohol or a little bit of weed, but he never smelt bad. You’d light his blunts for him with the lighter you carry around because you know how whiney he gets after realizing he forgot his. He says it kills his entire vibe even though he forgets about it 10 minutes later.

He didn’t smell like the other frat boys. You never had to make a face or look the opposite way whenever he comes close to you.

Satoru smells like Satoru. He smells like his expensive cologne that he claims to be “trending” all over the fragrance part of tiktok. He smelt like home.

Cheers echoed loudly, overpowering the loud speakers playing jersey beats. A group of boys chanting Satoru’s name, over and over again. A clear indication that the ‘Beer pong champion’ claimed another victory. Really, you don’t even know why people still want to challenge him.

Maki soon drifted apart from you, finding her way to the kitchen for another drink. You stood near a wall, staring off into the distance, your hand clutching your phone.

You glanced down, checking the time. It’s currently past midnight. The party is still alive as it was when it first started. Sukuna was well known to throw successful parties.

You sighed, your feet ache, your head was starting to hurt, and your eyes were drooping. Yet you never once thought about leaving without Gojo by your side. You’re in charge of making sure he even makes it back to his dorm.

-

Later close to 3 am the party was finally dying down. People getting dragged out by their more sober friends, some who didn’t even make it outside of the door, laying unconscious on the floor. The air smelt like heavy smoke and alcohol.

Red cups everywhere, ash trays left on the tables while decorations once hanging up were now on the ground.

You made your way through the hallway, looking for the 6 foot usual ball of energy. Your eyes scanned around before finally landing on him. Gojo stumbling a little bit, walking towards you with a doopey grin.

“Satoru,” you whispered, hiding back a smile “you’re drunk.”

“No sweetheart, I told you- not drunk! just buzzed.”

He draped an arm around your shoulder, his other one finding its way to your waist, holding it like he always does. His head rests against your shoulder, his white hair tickling your face.

“Let’s get out of here, please,” he said, mumbling the last part.

You didn’t hesitate to let him lean up against you while you guided the both of you outside. The fresh air, free from the pollution called frat parties, filling your lungs.

You took a deep breath while Gojo mumbled drunk words against your skin. “Mhmmm sleepy.”

With a sigh you hurried up your pace, practically dragging him towards your dorm. “Almost there.”

The moment you entered your room Gojo collapsed onto your bed, body sprawled out and eyes closed. Not a care in the world. ‘Buzzed’ he claims.

You placed a hand on your forehead, sighing in exhaustion. Inspecting the sight in front of you you realize his shirt was beginning to ride up his stomach, his v line peeking from under his toned abs. You caught yourself, quickly shaking your head and looking away.

You throw a blanket over him, turning around to close your lights and turning the lights he claims that soothes him. The clock on your desk read 4 am.

You hear Satoru mumble your name from under the covers, making you look down at him. “Y/n..”

You hum before slipping under the white, strawberry patterned duvet, “Mhm?”

“I love you,” he whispers casually. You freeze

‘What?’ was the first thing you can think of. You open your mouth but failed to speak any words, not even a sound came out. You forced yourself to speak up, not wanting to ruin the moment or make him feel like you don’t love him back.

But then doubt kicks in, what if he’s just babbling drunk thoughts? No, you can’t embarrass yourself.

“Satoru you should probably go brush your teeth-“ Snore.

You let out a loud groan. Tonight seemed to be one of the unlucky ones. Satoru was snoring and drooling.

-

And that was it. You never mentioned it and he didn’t seem to remember it.

Since then, things have been… weird.

Not on the surface. Gojo’s still Gojo. Still texts you dumb memes. He still touches you a little too much. Still throws his arm around your shoulders when you’re standing around campus. Still looks at you like you’ve hung the stars. Still acts like you’re the best part of every room he walks into.

But the closeness feels different now. Too sharp. Too hopeful. Too dangerous.

Because what if none of it meant anything? What if it’s just him being him? And what if you read too much into it?

He’s Gojo Satoru. King of the party scene. Six foot something, frat boy energy, infuriatingly good looking. And you’re… just you.

-

So you retreat.

You don’t mean to. You tell yourself you’re just busy.

You bury yourself in schoolwork. In your job. In every commitment you can find. You say yes to every extra shift at the campus cafe. You start getting ahead on assignments no one’s assigned yet. You even ignore a couple of his texts, not ghosting him, just spacing them out. Being “busy.” Master of sabotage.

You don’t mean to pull away, but you do. No more late night calls. No more tagging along to parties. No more pretending like your heart doesn’t race every time he looks at you too long.

If he noticed something changed, he didn’t say it.

If he cared, he’d say something… right?

You’re not mad at him.

You’re mad at yourself for thinking, even for a second, that someone like him could fall for someone like you.

-

The knock comes just after 10 p.m.

It’s late and you’re halfway through writing an essay that isn’t due for another week. Your eyes are bleary, you’re wearing the same hoodie from yesterday, and your room’s lit only by your laptop screen and a half-dead string of fairy lights.

You almost don’t answer.

But then you hear his voice:

“Y/n? You in there?”

Your stomach twists.

You debate not answering. You debate crawling under your desk and pretending you’re asleep. But your feet move on their own, and when you open the door, there he was.

Gojo Satoru, in a hoodie and joggers, hair pushed back like he’s been pacing. His usual cocky grin is nowhere to be found.

“Hey,” he says, voice softer than usual. “Can I come in?”

You step aside.

He walks in like your room is familiar. Because it is.

And you realize, painfully, that this is the longest you’ve gone without seeing him. He looks you over really looks and his eyes drop to the pile of papers on your desk, the untouched dinner, the overstuffed planner on your nightstand.

“What’s going on with you?” he asks after a long beat. “You’ve been distant. And don’t say it’s just ‘school.’”

You hesitate. Then go with the safest answer: “I’ve been busy.”

“You’ve always been busy,” he says gently. “But not like this.”

You busy yourself gathering papers off your desk. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”

He looks almost hurt by that. “Of course I noticed. Busy for you is good… I suppose, but not like this. Not when it’s hurting you.”

Something bubbles in your chest, something ugly and sad and fragile. “I don’t know what you want from me, Satoru.”

He tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I just-“

His lips part like he’s about to speak, but you rush on.

“You say things. You look at me like I matter. But then nothing happens. I have constant self doubt, no matter what. I can never convince myself that what I’m doing is right and not a mistake. And I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t mess with me.”

It’s the closest you’ve ever come to saying I like you.

You don’t look at him.

You’re afraid of what’s on his face, pity? Confusion? Worse?

Instead, you say, quietly, “Maybe I just needed space to figure it out.”

Gojo is silent for a long moment. Then he exhales, stepping closer. Your heart stutters.

“No, you don’t,” he adds when you don’t respond. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t be trying to disappear on me.”

You meet his eyes then and it nearly breaks you.

Because there’s no teasing in his expression. No smirk. Just raw honesty.

You whisper. “I thought if I said anything, it would ruin it, you know, us being best friends. I’m not really the venting type of person.”

He smiles, but it’s soft. Tired. “You pulling away is what almost ruined it.”

You blink, trying to swallow the knot in your throat.

He steps even closer, toeing the edge of your personal space like he always does.

“And I’m not gonna stop trying,” he adds, voice barely above a whisper, “unless you ask me to. Don’t burn yourself out trying to prove you’re worth something you

You ask, shakily, “So… what now?”

He grins a little just enough to lighten the air.

“Well,” he says, pulling something out of his hoodie pocket. It’s a folded flyer. Hand-drawn. Probably by Geto. “I’m hosting a party on Saturday. It’s gonna be outside by the bond fire.”

You give him a tired look. “I’m not really in a party mood.”

“I figured you’d say that,” he says. Then his voice softens. “But I was hoping you’d come anyway.”

You blink. “Why?”

“Because I want you there,” he says.

His eyes find yours.

“I want you to come as my date.”

It’s quiet after that. Your heart beats so loud it’s all you can hear.

Gojo runs a hand through his hair, suddenly a little nervous. “You don’t have to answer right now. I just… thought it would be a good idea. I mean most of them are bringing a plus one.”

You nod slowly.

Then, quietly:

“Okay.”

He stills. “Okay?”

“I’ll come,” you say, lips curving up. “As your date.”

He exhales like he’s been holding his breath all week. Then his grin returns, bright, wide, impossibly him.

“You’re gonna look so good, I’m not gonna survive.”

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks burn. He reaches the door, hand on the knob, then pauses.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks, one last time. You meet his gaze, softer now.

“I think I will be.”

And with that, he leaves. But his smile lingers.

-

You don’t even knock. You just step into the party the way you always do, quiet, unnoticed, somewhere between unsure and familiar. But this time, you’re not alone.

This time, you’re his date.

The house is buzzing the second you arrive, not chaotic like usual, but warm. Music hums through the speakers in the backyard, where strings of lights glow between trees and paper lanterns. There’s no beer pong, no packed kitchen, no loud bass shaking the walls.

It feels more like a gathering than a party. Intimate.

Intentional.

You spot Geto and Shoko by the fire pit, Yuta curled up in a hoodie next to Panda, who is definitely roasting marshmallows too aggressively.

And then you see him.

Gojo, standing near the back steps, laughing with Nanami and Utahime. White shirt hugging his frame, blue eyes scanning the yard like he’s looking for-

He spots you.

And just like that, his smile softens. Warms. Becomes something only you get to see.

“Hey,” he says when he reaches you, like he didn’t text you three times earlier asking if you were still coming. Like he hasn’t clearly been waiting.

You look up at him, nervous, unsure, hopeful. “Hey.”

His eyes flick over you quickly, like he’s trying not to stare. You dressed simple, but he still looks at you like you’re the only thing glowing brighter than the lights overhead.

“You look…” He falters for a second, grinning. “Really pretty.”

You smile, shy. “Thanks.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Wanna hang by the fire? Or you want the tour first? There’s a s’mores station with your name on it. I may have hoarded the good chocolate.”

You laugh genuinely, easily. “Fire sounds good.”

The party flows around you, but it feels like you’re in your own bubble.

You sit beside him by the fire, knees just barely brushing. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t pull anything bold but every now and then, he leans in close to say something. Something just for you.

And you don’t pull away.

You don’t even think to.

Because when Gojo laughs and leans into your shoulder, it feels like something you’ve already known for a long time.

Like it was always supposed to be this way.

“I missed this,” he says quietly, later in the night. “Missed you.”

You glance at him, eyes soft in the flickering firelight, his hands cupped around a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

“I didn’t go anywhere,” you whisper.

He meets your gaze.

“Felt like you did,” he says. “For a while.”

You look down. “I was just scared.”

“I know,” he says, and there’s no judgment in his voice. “Me too.”

You breathe in slowly. The fire crackles beside you.

Then:

“But I’m here now.”

He nods. “Yeah. You are.”

It doesn’t feel like a confession. It doesn’t feel like fireworks or declarations or “I’ve always loved you.”

It just feels right.

And maybe that’s better. People notice.

Of course they do.

Geto nudges Gojo when you’re off grabbing a drink. “You’re basically one slow dance away from being an actual couple.”

Gojo rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”

“You’re smiling like a dumbass,” Shoko adds, sipping her drink. “It’s weirdly endearing.”

Even Nanami, who barely raises an eyebrow at anything, mutters, “Took you long enough.”

Gojo doesn’t deny it.

He just glances toward the back deck, where you’re chatting with Yuuji, your laugh quiet but real.

And he smiles again.

-

Later, when most of the yard has emptied and only the glow of the fire remains, you find yourselves side by side on the porch steps. Close, but not touching.

The silence is comfortable.

Not like before.

He nudges your knee with his.

“You tired?”

You shake your head. “No. Just… happy.”

He looks at you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

There’s a long pause, the kind that holds too much.

And then, softly:

“Can I ask you something?”

You nod.

Gojo’s eyes search yours like he’s still scared you might disappear.

“Is this… okay?” he asks. “Us. Like this. Closer.”

You exhale. The warmth in your chest feels like it could light the whole backyard.

“Yeah,” you say, voice quiet. “It’s more than okay.”

And that’s it.

No kiss. No need to say more.

You just lean your head on his shoulder.

And Gojo who’s always loud, always dramatic goes still and soft beside you. Like the moment matters too much to risk breaking.

You stay like that until the fire burns out.

-

It starts with Sukuna.

Pierced tongue. Permanent smirk. Always skipping class.

He joins the same philosophy lecture you and Gojo have been half-ignoring all semester. But while Gojo mostly doodles on your notes and sends you stupid memes during class, Sukuna- Sukuna talks to you.

A lot.

He sits next to you one day when Gojo’s late. Offers gum. Comments on your handwriting. Makes you laugh, once. Gojo sees it when he walks in.

Sees you turn toward Sukuna instead of him. Sees Sukuna lean into your space, too close, too casual.

He doesn’t say anything that day.

But it sticks.

It builds from there.

You run into Sukuna at the library. Then again near the rec center. Then again when you’re with Maki grabbing food.

“Popular,” Gojo teases lightly. “He following you or something?”

You laugh. “I think he just likes talking.”

But the thing is, you don’t realize Gojo isn’t teasing. He’s dead serious.

He’s watching. Always. Quietly.

Watching Sukuna make you laugh in ways he used to. Watching him lean against walls and flash you that cocky little grin. Watching you not pull away.

And he hates it.

Worse, he hates how much it bothers him.

The realization doesn’t hit Gojo all at once.

It’s slow.

A sick warmth in his stomach when Sukuna shows up at the same party you and Gojo are at. Sukuna always attends the frat parties, why does this one feel so different? Gojo invited you. Sukuna just… appears.

He watches the way you talk with him near the drinks table. He doesn’t approach. Doesn’t pull you away. But he watches. Tight lipped. Drinking too fast.

Shoko eventually corners him. “You’re spiraling.”

“I’m fine,” he says.

“You’re glaring at that guy like he owes you money.”

Gojo sips his drink. “He’s weird.”

“You’re jealous.”

“I am not-“ he starts, then stops.

Shoko just gives him a look. And that’s when it hits him.

Oh.

-

That night, Gojo doesn’t text you.

The next day, he cancels plans. “Frat stuff.”

You shrug it off. You’re used to him being busy.

But you don’t miss the shift. The distance. And it hurts more than you want to admit.

Then comes the snap.

You text him to help you review for a quiz. He agrees, reluctantly. You meet in your dorm, like old times.

But he’s off the second he walks in. No teasing. No dumb jokes. No light shoulder bumps.

Just quiet tension.

You tilt your head. “You okay?”

He flips through your notes. “You and Sukuna are getting close.”

You freeze. “What?”

“I mean, he’s everywhere lately. Study buddies now, too?”

You blink, slow. “Why are you bringing this up?”

“I just didn’t realize you had a type.”

There’s a bite to it. You flinch.

“Gojo-“

“Satoru.”

You pause.

“Why are you acting like this?” you ask, softer.

He exhales hard. “Because I thought-“

He breaks off. Runs a hand through his hair. He needs to know. Needs to ask. Needs to tear the damn bandaid off before it gets worse.

“I thought it was me. I thought I was the one you looked at like that.”

The silence after is a vacuum.

“You are,” you say, quietly.

Gojo looks up. Stunned.

“I only laughed at Sukuna because he asked if you were my boyfriend and I panicked,” you admit. “I said we were just friends and he smirked like he knew.”

You look down.

“And I hated that he might’ve been right.”

Gojo is across the room before you finish breathing. You don’t miss the fact at how his pupils are more dilated than usual.

The kiss is slow and loaded.

No crash. No firestorm. Just weight.

Like the moment’s been waiting for months, and now it’s finally time.

His hands cradle your face.

“You’re mine,” he says. It’s not a question.

You nod. “Yeah.”

He kisses you again. This time deeper. Hungrier.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispers against your lips.

“Then take it,” you whisper back.

The room burns.

Your shirt comes off first, his hoodie next.

He kisses down your throat, slow and reverent. Like he’s discovering something forbidden.

“You’re so soft,” he murmurs. “So fucking pretty.”

You gasp as his hand slips under your waistband. He’s careful. Focused. Watching you fall apart like it’s something he needs.

He hesitates, not wanting to force you. Not wanting to do anything out of your comfort zone. He loves you.

You notice his hesitation and tugged him closer. “Want you. Please.”

He sucks in a breath. “Say it again.”

“I want you, Satoru.”

He rolls his head back and groans like he’s losing his mind.

He pulls down the comfortable pajama shorts you’re wearing. Whistling upon seeing your lace panties. “You always wearing these?” he teases.

You put your hand up to his bare chest and push him away, jokingly. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment. “No, they so happened to be the first pair that I grabbed.”

He chuckles, the deep chuckle that makes your throat go dry, the bottom of your stomach twist with desire. “That’s hot, sweetheart. They’re my favourite color.”

He leans in to bite your ear, making you gasp. Satoru is quick, he knows what he wants. He slowly trailed his hand down towards your clothed pussy, rubbing it gently.

“Fuck- baby, it’s leaking,” he says with a smirk.

You can’t see his face but you already know what smug expression he’s making. That asshole.

“Satoru,” you warn, no malice or disrespect behind it, just neediness.

“Heard ya, princess.”

He slips his hand in your waist band, slowly circling his thumb over your clit, making you jolt. You lean your body against his, muffling your soft moans against his skin.

Then you feel the stretch. His long fingers entering you, slow and deliberate. Your slick coating it.

“All this just from me talking?” he grins. His lips trailing kisses down jaw all the way to your neck. His tongue licking your sweet spot.

“Just-“ you stutter, “just put it in, you tease.”

“Say please.” His hands grip your hips, then your waist, then your face. He walks you backwards toward your bed, lips never leaving yours.

You gasp when the backs of your knees hit the mattress. He pulls back, just a breath, eyes dark.

“Tell me to stop,” he pants. “If you want me to.”

You shake your head, already breathless. “Don’t.”

In a flash you were on your back with Gojo placed in between your legs, your panties tossed to the ground, the tip of his cock teasing your entrance.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs against your chest. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You arch beneath him, gasping as he kisses your ribs, your stomach, your hips.

“I dreamed of this,” he confesses, voice shaking. “More than once.”

You’re trembling when he finally slips inside—slow, deep, overwhelming.

You moan into his neck, gripping his shoulders. You cling to him, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from the painful stretch and how good it feels, how real.

“Don’t stop,” you whisper. “Please, don’t stop.”

“You okay?” he whispers, forehead pressed to yours.

“Yes,” you breathe. “So much.”

He thrusts slow, like he’s savoring every inch of you.

“You feel like home,” he pants. “Like you were made for me.”

Your legs tighten around him. His hand laces with yours. It’s everything you never said, poured into movement.

You come first, body shaking, eyes glassy. He follows moments after, burying his face in your shoulder as he falls apart. Groaning in your ear.

-

After, you lie tangled in sheets, his fingers tracing circles on your bare back.

“I hate that it took Sukuna to get me to say something,” he mumbles.

You smile into his chest. “He was kind of helpful, actually.”

He groans. “Don’t ever say that again.”

You giggle. Then softer, “You’re really mine now?”

His hand curls into your hair.

“I’ve always been yours,” he says. “Even when I didn’t know it.”

-

Mornings with him are different now.

He’s still chaotic, still wakes up with bedhead and somehow makes pouring cereal sound dramatic but now he’s yours. And he acts like it.

You wake up to his hand on your waist and his breath in your hair. His leg always ends up tangled with yours. He grumbles if you try to get out of bed too early.

“Just five more minutes,” he mumbles against your shoulder.

“You said that fifteen minutes ago.”

“I’m serious this time.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. Because underneath the dramatic sighs and sleepy whining, Gojo’s hand never lets go of yours.

-

Breakfast becomes a thing.

Not fancy, usually cereal, toast, maybe eggs if he’s feeling ambitious. But he makes sure you eat before class.

“You’re not leaving here without food,” he says, sliding a banana into your bag. “Girlfriend privileges. I worry about you now.”

You snort. “You didn’t worry about me before?”

“I did! Silently.”

You raise a brow.

“Okay, loudly, but in my own way,” he amends, grinning. “Which mostly involved buying you Red Bulls and pretending it wasn’t concern.”

Walking to class together has always been in your routine.

He meets you outside your dorm even if it means being late himself. He carries your bag half the time, just because. He holds your hand like he needs to.

People stare now, but it’s not the usual Gojo-stare. It’s softer. Curious.

You overhear one girl whisper, “They’re really together?”

Another replies, “I thought she was just his best friend…”

And Gojo just smirks, squeezes your hand tighter, and loudly kisses your temple like the smug bastard he is.

His place becomes your second home.

You leave a toothbrush there. Then a hairbrush. Then half your sleep clothes.

“Is this a drawer?” you ask one day, opening a newly cleared-out space in Gojo’s dresser.

“It’s your drawer,” he says, smug. “Started making it after the first night you stayed over.”

“You’re insane. That was a long time ago.”

“I’m prepared.”

You roll your eyes, but later, you put your favorite hoodie in there. You kind of like that he planned ahead.

Studying together becomes dangerous.

He’s distracting.

He keeps poking your thigh under the table.

Keeps whispering stupid jokes.

Keeps staring at you with that annoying grin.

Keeps leaning over your shoulder, pretending to read, but really just wanting to be close.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you mutter.

“I’m studying.”

“You’re literally not.”

“I’m studying you.”

You shove his notebook at him.

He grins. “Was that foreplay?”

“Satoru.”

He memorized your schedule.

Shows up between classes with coffee. Walks you to the library. Waits outside your labs.

Sometimes, you don’t even realize he’s there until he slides next to you on a bench and offers half a cookie.

“Been waiting long?” you ask.

“Only forever,” he says, but he’s smiling.

And you know he’d wait again.

Some nights you stay in.

You curl up in his bed with Netflix on and snacks scattered across the blanket. His hand is always around your waist, even when he’s half-asleep.

He lets you steal his clothes. His shampoo. His chargers.

He lets you fall asleep on his chest and only shifts to kiss your forehead.

“Love you,” he whispers one night. It slips out between breaths, not even part of the conversation.

You freeze.

He doesn’t.

Just tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and repeats it.

“Love you. Not scared about it anymore.”

You kiss him, slow, soft, deep.

“I love you too.”

-

You don’t even tell the others.

But they know. All of them are varying levels of unsurprised.

The second you and Satoru walk in together, not just side by side, but together, like gravity pulled you that way it’s over. They can see it all.

Gojo doesn’t let go of you once.

His hand stays low on your back. Yours brushes his fingers every few steps. He’s smiling, but not in his usual chaotic way.

He’s softer tonight. Quieter. Like he’s not looking to be the loudest person in the room for once. Like his attention is already full.

You’d gone over together many times, obviously. You got ready in his room, shoved your lip gloss in his back pocket. He’d watched you get dressed from the bed, doing nothing to hide the way his eyes traveled slowly, unashamed.

“You always this pretty, or are you trying to kill me tonight?”

You threw a pillow at his head. He caught it and kissed it like an idiot.

Now, at the party, the others see it instantly.

It’s not just the handholding. It’s the way he leans into you when you laugh. The way you fix the collar of his hoodie without thinking. The way he watches you walk away, eyes glued to your back like you’re the only thing he’s ever followed in his life.

-

“God,” Maki groans as she watches you two across the living room. “It’s worse now.”

“They were already like this,” Shoko mutters, sipping something neon.

“No, but now it’s legally sanctioned.” Nobara gestures as Gojo tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “There’s nothing stopping him. He’s unstoppable.”

“They’ve always been like this. Now they just kiss in front of us.”

Maki is the first to say anything.

She corners you near the kitchen, squints like she’s solving a puzzle.

“You’re glowing,” she accuses.

You try (badly) to play it off. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Bullshit.” She leans in. “You look freshly ruined and spiritually fulfilled. That’s Gojo glow.”

You nearly choke on your drink.

Before you can deny it, Shoko walks past. “Finally.”

You gasp. “You all knew?!”

Yuta passing through, uninterested mutters, “Yeah. We’ve been over it since last semester.”

Even Panda chimes in from the couch. “I lost ten bucks on how long it would take.”

Meanwhile, Gojo’s got his own interrogation squad.

Suguru smirks from across the pong table. “You seem settled.”

Gojo takes a casual sip of his drink. “I’m good.”

“Is that her hoodie?”

Gojo smirks. “Nope. Mine. But she stole it first.”

Suguru raises a brow. “So it’s official?”

Gojo nods, that stupidly satisfied look spreading on his face.

“You tell her you love her yet?”

Gojo blinks.

“Because you do,” Suguru adds casually. “You’ve been in love with her since that stupid Halloween party freshmen year.”

“Okay, relax,” Gojo mutters, cheeks flushing.

-

Gojo slips behind you while you’re talking with Panda, slides an arm around your waist and leans in like it’s instinct.

“You okay?” he murmurs against your ear.

You nod. “They’re all bullying me.”

He kisses your temple, shameless. “Good. You deserve it.”

You try to nudge him but you’re smiling.

And so is he.

There’s a quiet in his body tonight, not bored, not tired, but anchored. Like you settled something deep in him. Like he’s finally breathing the way he always wanted to.

You drift together through the party.

He holds your hand under the beer pong table.

You steal his fries.

He kisses your cheek without thinking.

You play with his rings when you’re bored.

Sukuna shows up around ten, smirking as always. He catches sight of the way Gojo’s arm is curled protectively around your hips, and just lifts a brow.

“Guess I missed my shot,” he says dryly.

Gojo grins, all teeth. “You never had one.”

You smack his chest, but Sukuna just laughs.

“Wasn’t trying to steal her, anyway. Just wanted to piss you off.”

“You did,” Gojo says, grinning harder. “And it worked.”

Sukuna laughs.

The night drips by in warm gold.

Gojo takes dumb pictures of you on his phone. You steal his hoodie halfway through the night. He sings part of a song into your neck even though he’s off-key and way too loud.

You end up on the couch together, you in his lap, his arms snug around you.

People pass and grin. Some whisper. Someone asks Gojo, jokingly, “Damn, did you finally lock her down?”

He laughs. Looks down at you. “Nope. She locked me down.”

You blink at him, and he kisses you. Again.

You lose count of how many times he kisses you that night.

Later, you find yourselves tucked on a porch bench while the music thumps inside.

The cold nips at your skin but Gojo wraps his hoodie tighter around you, tugs you between his legs.

“You good?” he asks again, gently.

You look up at him.

His hair’s a mess. His lips are a little pink. His eyes are soft in a way they never used to be like he finally let the walls down.

“I’m good,” you say honestly.

He leans his forehead to yours. “This doesn’t feel real.”

“It is.”

He cups your cheek. “We really did it, huh?”

You nod, teasing. “I mean, you could still ruin it.”

“Oh, definitely,” he laughs. “But now you’re stuck with me.”

You sigh dramatically. “Such a demanding boyfriend.”

You lean in and kiss him, just soft, just long enough to feel it in your chest.

He hums against your lips.

When you pull back, he whispers, “Let’s leave soon.”

You tilt your head. “Why?”

His hands slip under the hem of your shirt, warm on your skin. “Because I want you all to myself. Please, can you stay the night?”

[monserelates]

Firewhisky & Trouble

"You smell like Firewhisky and trouble."

pairings: f!reader x james potter

summary: When, at a Gryffindor party, y/n gets a tad bit drunk and some feelings come out.

warnings: drunk! f!reader x james potter, idiots in love, fluff heavy, alcohol consumption, not proofread

word count: 995

The Gryffindor Tower glows.

There’s a golden haze in the air from floating fairy lights put up by Lily, enchanted to flicker red and gold. Every surface is covered in discarded scarves, emptied bottles of Firewhisky, and the remnants of a sugar-fueled celebration. The air smells like pumpkin pastries, smoke from the fireplace, sweat, and cinnamon-spiked cider. Music blares from a record player in the corner, and Arthur Weasley charmed the ceiling to look like fireworks—bright explosions of crimson lighting up the stone walls every few minutes.

The Gryffindor common room has never felt more like home.

They’d won.

Gryffindor had destroyed Ravenclaw in the Quidditch match earlier, and Y/N was currently drunk on FireWhisky and victory—her red and gold scarf tied around her head like a bandana, her cheeks flushed with warmth and giddy pride.

She stumbles through the crowd, laughing wildly as Sirius twirls her around like they’re ballroom dancing. He dips her dramatically and nearly drops her.

“Pads, you idiot,” she shrieks, clutching his shoulder. “You’re supposed to catch me!”

“Darling, if I were any smoother, I’d be illegal,” Sirius grins, hair wild, cheeks pink. “Besides, I thought you were the graceful one.”

Y/N kicks his shin (lightly) and throws her head back laughing. Around them, the party whirls: Marlene is arm-wrestling a sixth-year, Dorcas is playing bartender with spiked pumpkin juice, Lily’s sitting cross-legged on the floor arguing about Quidditch strategy with Remus.

And James?

James is watching her like she’s the sun that just agreed to orbit him back.

He’s been doing that all night.

He’d scored the final goal, had practically flown across the pitch with his hair windswept and wild—he looked like a bloody hero from a fairytale. Y/N had screamed herself hoarse, standing on the bleachers and jumping like a lunatic, pride swelling in her chest like a balloon.

And now he’s standing by the fireplace, drinking a cup of butterbeer, his cheeks glowing golden from the flames, his eyes never leaving her.

She notices. Of course she does.

She makes her way toward him, barely walking in a straight line, cheeks hot for entirely new reasons.

“Oi, Potter,” she grins, poking his chest with one finger. “Don’t just stand there lookin’ pretty. You won us the bloody match!”

James grins, sheepish, like he’s never been complimented in his life. “It was a team effort.”

“You liar,” she giggles, falling against him. He immediately catches her, arm slipping around her waist like it’s meant to be there. “You were incredible. I’ve never screamed so loud in my life. Pretty sure I ruptured a lung for you.”

He laughs—low and fond. “You’re very dramatic when you’re drunk.”

“Yeah?” she says, tipping her head up to look at him, eyes wide. “Well, you’re very pretty when you’re victorious.”

And it just—hangs there.

Heavy.

James goes pink all the way to his hairline.

“Merlin,” he mutters, “you’re gonna kill me, aren’t you?”

She blinks. “What?”

He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly nervous. “You. Saying things like that. Looking at me like that. Laughing like that. It’s—it’s murder.”

Y/N stares at him, stunned silent for once in her life. Her heart is slamming against her ribs.

Then Sirius claps a hand on both their shoulders, completely ruining the moment.

“My favourite idiots,” he bellows. “Y/N, can you help me steal more chocolate frogs from the kitchen?” he asks.

Y/N groans, burying her face in James’s jumper. “I hate him.”

“No, you don’t,” James murmurs into her hair. “He’s your brother. Practically.”

“You’re my favourite Marauder,” she whispers, loud enough for Sirius to hear.

Sirius gasps. “TRAITOR.”

James laughs and tightens his hold around her. “Don’t let Moony hear that.”

“Oh, he knows,” Remus calls from the couch, raising his Butterbeer. “You’re all absolutely insufferable.”

She laughs. "Okay, fine Pads, I'll go." Y/N steadies herself and follows through.

“Oh, she’s sloshed,” Lily says beside him, watching Y/N trip over her own feet and fall into Sirius.

“She’s perfect,” James replies dreamily.

Lily side-eyes him. “You’re pathetic.”

He doesn’t argue.

-----

Twenty minutes later, Y/N plops down right next to him on the couch, nearly landing on his lap.

“Hi,” she says, eyes bright and warm, voice overly deliberate like she’s trying to sound very sober.

“Hi,” he laughs, steadying her with a hand on her back. “Having fun, love?”

“Mmhm,” she hums, dramatically flopping over so her head lands in his lap. “But my feet are being evil and the floor hates me.”

“Floor’s a bastard,” James agrees seriously.

She snorts and tugs on his sweater sleeve, blinking up at him. “You’re really pretty, you know that?”

He freezes. “I—uh—what?”

“I said you’re pretty, James Potter.” She pokes his nose. “Pretty boy. With your dumb hair and your stupid beautiful eyes and your arms that do that thing when you flex.”

James stares at her, red from his ears down to his collarbone.

“You’re drunk,” he says, voice wrecked.

“And you’re soft,” she counters, curling into him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Like a pillow made of stars and good intentions.”

He laughs quietly and lets her stay there, running a hand through her hair.

Much later, the common room has thinned out. Lily, Dorcas, and Marlene are curled up together by the fireplace, whispering and watching like witches at a coven. Sirius is passed out under the snack table. Peter’s snoring on the stairs. Remus is reading—how?, no one knows.

“Y’know,” Y/N whispers later, barely awake now, “sometimes I think if I kissed you, the whole castle would cheer.”

James nearly chokes. “W-what?”

“Mhm. 'Cause everyone knows. They bet on us, Potter. Even McGonagall. I heard her.”

She yawns, her fingers curling into his jumper. “Do you think I’d be a good girlfriend?”

James swallows. “I think you’d be perfect.”

She smiles, already half asleep.

“Cool,” she mumbles. “Maybe I’ll kiss you tomorrow.”

He watches her for a long moment before whispering, “I’d wait forever.”

[sh4nksslvt]

A Doodle in the Cold

On a chilly night aboard the Polar Tang, you borrow Law’s coat and discover a doodle of yourself, unraveling his hidden feelings in a series of tender, awkward moments.

Law X reader | ONE SHOT tags: fluff, sfw, ooc(?) a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ffs a bit cringe n akward word count: 1.7k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The Polar Tang hummed softly beneath your feet, its metal walls groaning against the icy wind of the winter island you’d docked at. The crew had ventured onto the snowy shore earlier, gathering supplies and indulging in a rare snowball fight, but now, as night fell, the sub was a haven of warmth—or it would’ve been, if the heating system hadn’t chosen tonight to malfunction. You shivered in your thin jacket, rubbing your arms as you wandered the corridors, seeking the mess hall where the Heart Pirates were likely huddled.

The faint clatter of mugs and laughter guided you to the right door. Inside, the crew was sprawled across mismatched chairs, a portable heater glowing weakly in the corner. Bepo, bundled in his own fur, was recounting a tale of slipping on ice, his paws waving dramatically. Penguin and Shachi, ever the instigators, were snickering, while Ikkaku was trying to fix the heater with a wrench, muttering curses.

You leaned against the doorframe, smiling at the scene. “Any luck with that heater, Ikkaku?”

She glanced up, blowing a curl of hair from her face. “This thing’s older than the ship. Might as well pray for a miracle.”

“Or for Captain to stop being stingy and buy a new one,” Shachi quipped, dodging a playful swipe from Penguin.

Your gaze drifted to the corner, where Trafalgar Law sat, legs crossed, a book balanced on his knee. His hat was tipped low, casting shadows over his sharp features, but you could tell he was listening, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. He hadn’t joined the snowball fight earlier, claiming it was “beneath a surgeon’s dignity,” but you’d caught him watching from the deck, his eyes lingering on you as you laughed with Bepo.

“Cold, Y/N?” Bepo’s voice snapped you back. The mink tilted his head, concern in his dark eyes. “You’re shivering.”

You shrugged, trying to play it off. “It’s not that bad. Just… brisk.”

“Liar,” Ikkaku said, smirking. “You’re practically a popsicle. Captain, lend her your coat or something. You’re just sitting there brooding.”

Law’s head lifted slightly, his gray eyes narrowing at Ikkaku before flicking to you. “I don’t brood,” he said, voice low and dry. “And I’m not a charity wardrobe.”

But he was already setting his book down, his movements deliberate. You opened your mouth to protest—really, you were fine—but Law stood, shrugging off his long black coat with a fluid motion. The crew fell suspiciously quiet, their eyes darting between you two like they were watching a play unfold.

“Here,” Law said, holding the coat out. His tone was gruff, but his gaze softened for a split second, betraying the gesture’s weight. “Don’t make a habit of it.”

You hesitated, caught off guard by the offer. The coat was heavy, lined with soft fur, and it smelled faintly of antiseptic and something warmer, like cedar. “Thanks,” you murmured, slipping it on. It was comically large, the sleeves swallowing your hands, the hem brushing your knees. You couldn’t help but giggle, flapping the sleeves like wings. “I look like I’m drowning in this.”

Penguin snorted. “Captain’s coat’s got more presence than half the crew.”

“Speak for yourself,” Shachi shot back, but he was grinning, clearly enjoying the moment.

Law rolled his eyes, sinking back into his chair. “Keep laughing, and I’ll Room you all into the snow.” But his fingers twitched around his book, and you noticed he hadn’t quite met your eyes since you put the coat on.

The crew’s banter resumed, and you settled onto a bench near the heater, the coat’s warmth seeping into your bones. It was cozy, almost too cozy, and you found yourself fiddling with the pockets, your fingers brushing something crinkled inside. Curious, you slipped your hand in and pulled out a folded scrap of paper. It was small, no bigger than your palm, and when you unfolded it, your breath caught.

It was a doodle. A simple, pencil-sketched outline of a person—you. The curve of your jaw, the way your hair fell over one shoulder, even the little scar on your knuckle from a mishap with a rigging knife. The lines were meticulous, almost tender, capturing you in a moment of quiet focus. At the bottom, in Law’s precise handwriting, was a single word: “Y/N.”

Your heart stuttered. You glanced at Law, who was still buried in his book, or pretending to be. His shoulders were tense, his fingers gripping the pages a little too tightly. Had he meant to leave this in there? Was it an accident, or…?

“Y/N, you okay?” Bepo’s voice broke your trance. He leaned over, peering at the paper. “Oh! That’s you! Did Captain draw that?”

The room went silent again, all eyes swiveling to Law. You could’ve sworn the heater sputtered in embarrassment. Law’s head snapped up, his eyes locking onto the paper in your hand. For a moment, he looked like a deer caught in a spotlight, his usual composure fracturing.

“Bepo,” he said, voice dangerously calm, “stop talking.”

Bepo squeaked, hiding behind Penguin, who was barely containing his laughter. Ikkaku leaned forward, smirking. “Well, well. Didn’t know you were an artist, Captain. That’s some serious detail.”

“It’s nothing,” Law snapped, but his ears were pink, a rare crack in his stoic facade. He stood abruptly, striding toward you. “Give it back.”

You clutched the doodle to your chest, grinning. “No way. This is adorable. You drew me?”

“It’s not—” Law faltered, his hand hovering as if unsure whether to snatch the paper or retreat. “It’s just a sketch. I was bored.”

“Bored?” you teased, holding the paper up. “You wrote my name on it. That’s not bored, that’s sentimental.”

The crew erupted into hoots and whistles, Shachi clapping Penguin on the back. “Sentimental! Our captain’s got a heart after all!”

Law’s jaw clenched, but his eyes softened when they met yours. “Tch... you’re making this a bigger deal than it is,” he muttered, but he didn’t move to take the paper. Instead, he shoved his hands in his pockets, looking anywhere but at you.

You folded the doodle carefully, tucking it back into the coat pocket. “I’m keeping this,” you said, voice quieter now, meant just for him. “It’s sweet, Law.”

He huffed, but the flush on his cheeks deepened. “Do what you want,” he grumbled, turning back to his chair. “Just don’t expect me to draw you again.”

The crew’s teasing continued, but you caught the way Law’s smirk returned, subtle and private, as he sank back into his book. The moment felt like a secret shared, fragile but warm, like the coat still draped over your shoulders.

Later, the crew dispersed, leaving the mess hall quiet. You lingered, sipping lukewarm tea, the coat still wrapped around you. Law hadn’t asked for it back, and you weren’t eager to return it. The doodle burned in your mind, a tiny window into the man who hid so much behind his sharp edges.

The door creaked, and Law stepped back in, his hat now off, revealing tousled black hair. He paused, clearly not expecting you to still be there. “You’re still wearing that,” he said, nodding at the coat.

“It’s warm,” you replied, smiling. “And it smells like you.”

His eyes widened fractionally, and he coughed, looking away. “Don’t say weird stuff like that.”

You laughed, setting your mug down. “Come on, Law. You can’t draw me and expect me not to tease you. It’s too cute.”

“It’s not cute,” he said, but there was no bite in his voice. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, studying you. “You’re… impossible.”

“Says the guy who doodles his crewmates in secret.” You patted the bench beside you. “Sit. I won’t bite.”

He hesitated, then sighed, dropping onto the bench with a grace that belied his grumpiness. The silence was comfortable, the hum of the Polar Tang filling the space. You nudged his shoulder. “So, how long have you been drawing me?”

He groaned, rubbing his temple. “You’re not letting this go, are you?”

“Nope.” You leaned closer, grinning. “Spill, Captain. Is it just me, or do you have a whole sketchbook of Bepo and Shachi too?”

“Just you,” he said, so quietly you almost missed it. His eyes flicked to yours, then away, the admission hanging between you like a spark.

Your heart did a little flip. “Just me?” you echoed, softer now. “Law, that’s… really sweet.”

He shifted, clearly uncomfortable with the vulnerability. “It’s not a big deal. I sketch when I can’t sleep. You were… there.”

“There,” you repeated, amused. “You mean, on your mind?”

“Stop twisting my words,” he growled, but his hand brushed yours on the bench, and he didn’t pull away. His fingers were warm, calloused from years of wielding Kikoku, and the contact sent a shiver through you that had nothing to do with the cold.

You tilted your head, studying him. The dim light caught the shadows under his eyes, the faint stubble on his jaw. He was always so guarded, but tonight, with the doodle and the coat and this quiet moment, he felt closer, more human. “You know,” you said, “you don’t have to hide stuff like this. I like seeing this side of you.”

He snorted, but his fingers curled slightly around yours. “You’re too nosy for your own good.”

“And you’re too stubborn for yours,” you shot back, grinning. “But I’ll keep your secret. No one else needs to know you’re a softie.”

“I’m not a softie,” he said, but his thumb brushed your knuckles, a small, unconscious gesture that made your chest ache.

You leaned back, pulling the coat tighter around you. “This is staying with me tonight, by the way. It’s too cozy to give back.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re stealing my coat now?”

“Borrowing,” you corrected, sticking out your tongue. “Unless you want to freeze me out here.”

He shook his head, a rare, genuine laugh escaping him. It was low, warm, and it made your heart skip. “Fine. Keep it. But don’t expect me to make a habit of this.”

“Too late,” you said, standing and stretching. “You’re already my personal artist and coat-lender. Next, I’m getting you to knit me a scarf.”

“Keep dreaming,” he called after you as you headed for the door, but his smile lingered, soft and unguarded.

The next morning, you found the doodle still in the coat pocket, now joined by a small, folded note. In Law’s precise script, it read: “Don’t get used to the coat. But… nice smile.”

You grinned, tucking the note beside the doodle. The Polar Tang was still cold, but with Law’s coat around you and his quiet affection in your pocket, it felt like the warmest place imaginable.

[kxsagi]

Hi I love ur writing sm 🫶🫶 So I see a lot of girldad!kaiser fics on this site but I can't help but imagine a twindad!kaiser where its a twin boy and a girl like wouldn't that be so cute? I don't think Ive read anything like that before so I hope u could write something about it but w/o pressure ofcourse, thank u! 🤍

“𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐩𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐩𝐬����”

a/n: i could write domestic fluff all day

(art credits go to ateli_er_)

“papa, she stole my dinosaur!!” 

“i didn’t! he gave it to me!” 

“liar!” 

“snitch!” 

michael kaiser stands in the middle of the chaos, one sock on, toothbrush still in his mouth, hair flopping over his eyes as he watches his five-year-old twins reenact jurassic park with live-action screaming. the tiny plastic t-rex, likely the source of the drama, flies across the living room and smacks him square in the shin. 

he blinks. slowly. 

“... cool,” he mumbles around his toothbrush. 

a smaller human, his daughter, clings to his leg dramatically, bottom lip wobbly. “dino thief!” she accuses her brother. 

the boy, who somehow inherited kaiser’s dramatic flair and your death glare, crosses his arms. “you said you hated dinos yesterday!” 

“that was yesterday!” she squeaks. 

kaiser sighs, finally pulling the toothbrush from his mouth and wiping foam off his chin with the back of his hand like a true man on the edge. 

“okay. okay,” he says, crouching down to their level, both of them now pouting at him. “let’s settle this like civilized people. rock, paper, scissors.” 

“what’s that gonna do?!” the girl huffs. 

kaiser shrugs. “nothing. but it gives me five seconds of peace.” 

you walk in just in time to see all three of them dramatically throwing rock at the same time and arguing about what that means. 

“how’s daddy daycare?” you ask, sipping your coffee with amused detachment. 

“hell,” kaiser replies brightly. 

“language,” you and your daughter say at the same time, which earns you matching side-eyes from him and your son. 

he finally herds them into the kitchen, both now seated with bowls of cereal that may or may not be 70% marshmallows. as he’s pouring milk, while one twin insists it must be warm and the other shrieks in protest because it must be cold, you lean against the counter, watching the chaos unfold. 

“you know,” you say thoughtfully, “you were scared to even hold one of them when they were born.” 

kaiser glares at you over his shoulder. “yeah, because they were small and breakable and didn’t scream in full sentences.” 

the girl accidentally spills milk on the boy’s lap. he lets out a bloodcurdling scream and points at her like she committed treason. “she did it on purpose!” 

kaiser grabs a towel and tosses it at him. “and now you know why papa drinks coffee like water.” 

“... i thought you said wine,” you murmur. 

“same thing.” 

despite the noise, the milk, the fact that your daughter is being a messy eater and your son is threatening to move out at the age of five, there’s a softness in kaiser’s gaze when he looks at them. 

they’re loud. opinionated. tiny versions of both of you with your charm and his sass. his daughter wraps him around her little finger without even trying, and his son follows him everywhere like a miniature shadow, copying his hairstyle and demanding to train with him “so i can beat uncle yoichi.” 

“you still love them, though,” you tease, watching him watching them. 

“love is a strong word,” he replies dramatically, walking behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. “but yeah.” 

he presses a kiss to your cheek, voice softer now. “they drive me insane, but… they’re ours. and kinda cute. when they’re not trying to murder each other over extinct lizards.” 

you laugh, leaning into him. “they love you so much, you know.” 

as if on cue, the twins race toward him, your son crashing into one leg, your daughter clinging to the other, both of them giggling and yelling “papa, papa, we wanna go to the park!” 

kaiser pretends to wobble, dramatically flailing like they’ve taken down a giant. “ahh! i’m under attack!” 

“surrender!” your son yells, climbing up his back. 

“give us candy and ice cream or suffer!” your daughter joins in. 

kaiser laughs, scooping both of them up with ease, one in each arm. “you guys are insane.” 

“we got it from you,” they chirp together. 

he meets your eyes over their heads, and for a moment, you both smile – tired, amused, a little overwhelmed – but deeply, hopelessly in love with the little chaos crew you’ve created. 

“you’re gonna miss this when they’re older,” you whisper. 

he snorts. “i’ll be in a spa in bali when they’re older.” 

“kaiser.” 

“… fine. we’ll all be in a spa in bali.” 

“with dinosaurs!” the twins cheer. 

he sighs. 

“sure, with dinosaurs.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[gre3dy]

admission    makes    itself    known    ,    causing    eyes    to    roll    halfway    across    the    room    before    returning    to    opposition    .     ❝    .    .     you’re    insane    ,    do    you    know    that    ?    ❞    surveys    the    male    beside    her    as    hues    run    up    and    down    his    build    ,    a    wicked    sense    of    annoyance    and    equal    parts    infatuation    still    coursing    within    her    .     ❝    since    you    care    oh    -    so    much    ,    i    haven’t    seen    you    bending    over    backwards    to    make    sure    i’m    safe    .     and    this    ,    your    lies    ,    doesn’t    count    .    ❞

"   looking   out   for   you   is   being   jealous   now   ?   well   shit   ,   sweetheart   ,   i   won't   let   it   happen   again   .   "   masters   the   gift   of   lying   ,   garnishing   it   with   a   smirk   as   he   motions   in   the   vague   direction   of   man   in   question   .   "   nah   ,   but   i   know   his   type   .   can   smell   him   from   here   .   you   want   to   leave   with   him   and   catch   yourself   a   mean   case   of   syphilis   ?   go   ahead   .   don't   say   i   didn't   warn   you   .   "

[illbegottenfaith]

unadulterated loathing (a what is this feeling inspired fic)

yours and theo's feelings for each other evoke a deeply visceral physical reaction in both of you, for which there can be only one explanation (theo nott x reader)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

a/n - had this idea ever since I watched wicked and so I whipped smth light and fun up prettyyy quickly (I think this is the fastest I've ever writtena fic? then again it is on the shorter side) enjoyyy :)) p.s. im quite behind on my notifs etc cuz of college so if i havent responded to anything pls know its an accident!

tropes/warnings - enemies to lovers, quips/banter, fluff, mentions of injury

word count - 1.3k

taglist - @hzdhrtss @justaproudperson

"I'm afraid the rumours are true," you were saying to Penelope Skeeter, a budding journalist eager to follow in her aunt's footsteps. "Theodore Nott was just so taken by my looks this morning that he promptly passed out in the Hogwarts library, poor thing. The whole school is bereft, naturally, but Madam Pomfrey herself expects him to make a full recovery."

You paused as her reedy-looking assistant snapped a picture, putting on a breezy, winning smile with just a hint of oh-silly-me-for-putting-one-of-Slytherin's-star-Quidditch-players-in-the-Hospital-Wing-but-also-who-could-blame-this-pretty-face.

"You could say I, quite literally, stole his breath."

Your impromptu interview came to a crashing halt as a strained groan sounded from the hospital bed a short distance away. The three of you glanced over to see that Theo had woken up and was now very much alive and kicking.

"Oh," you said, abandoning that affected, simpering tone for one with a noticeable trace of disdain. You thought you'd have more time. "You're up."

"Lies," Theo rasped breathlessly, with all the menace of a kitten swaddled in a blanket, eyes darting mistrustfully between you and Penelope. "Liar."

You tilted your head, your expression as displeased as it always was when it came to Theo. "Aren't you supposed to be dizzy or something?"

"Don't listen to anything she says, especially if it's about me. Strike that all - hang on - "

You watched him flail uselessly in his attempts to sit up, unimpressed.

"I don't think you hit your head hard enough."

"Shut up," Theo wheezed under the stifling weight of the warm compresses laid across his chest, "and get out."

You pouted exaggeratedly. "But you're sickly, sweetheart."

His already pale face blanched at the pet name. "Out. Out!"

For as long as you could remember, you had never gotten along with Theodore Nott. Anything he said, you'd feel compelled to disagree with, and anything you did, he felt compelled to sneer at. The adverse physical symptoms that presented themselves within each other's proximity certainly didn't seem to help matters. One way or another, sparks were bound to fly if the two of you were in the same room.

"It's - it's her - " Theo had spat out at The Three Broomsticks on a Hogsmeade trip in your third year. "She's doing this to me and she's doing it on purpose."

Mattheo had creased his forehead.

"Like a...like a hex?"

"No," Theo had said, distractedly scratching the hive that had appeared on the back of his hand. "It's worse than a hex. My pulse is rushing, my head is reeling, my face is flushing..."

"...oh," Mattheo had said, realisation dawning upon him. "I get it. It's lo-"

"That's it, Mattheo." Theo had interjected. "You're absolutely right."

"I am?"

"Yes, exactly. Loathing is what this is. Loathing." He had swivelled around, hatefully fixing his gaze on where you were laughing over some undoubtedly inane subject matter over butterbeer with your friends. "Unadulterated loathing."

Mattheo had rolled his eyes over Theo's dramatics.

That was years ago. Now, the butterbeer was gone and the inane subject matter was long forgotten, but the two of you were still too abrasive to get along. It was as though you couldn't help but rub each other the wrong way, the way you brought out the worst in each other. The detestation that everyone had hoped you would grow out of seemed to have grown with you, with petty jabs and insults and below-the-belt undermining becoming a regular occurrence between the two of you.

Today was no different. You were spending your morning free period studying at the library with your friends, roaming the bookshelves for anything that could help you with your Defence Against the Dark Arts essay. You'd turned the corner of the aisle, a heavy tome in hand, only to find Theodore blocking your path, his long fingers leisurely tracing the spine of a book like he had all the time in the world.

"Figures," you muttered under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear. "Of all the dark, damp corners in the castle, you'd turn up in this one. Like a bad penny."

Theo's gaze flicked up to meet yours, his expression impassive save for the slight lift of his brow. "Charming as ever, I see," he drawled in his low voice, carrying that familiar bite. "I didn't realise the library was off-limits to people with half a brain."

You narrowed your eyes, stepping closer despite yourself. "Don’t flatter yourself, Nott. If brains were currency, you'd be bankrupt."

His lips twitched, and for a moment, you swore he was fighting back a smirk.

"And yet, here I am, managing just fine without the constant headache of your presence. Speaking of which—" he gestured vaguely at the aisle, "—you’re in my way."

There it was - that repulsive, three-sizes-too-big ego of his. Really, it was a wonder how he managed to fit that swollen head of his through the castle doors.

"I'm in your way?" you repeated incredulously. "You do realise the universe doesn't actually revolve around you, right?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "Could've fooled me," he said smoothly, effortlessly plucking your book out of your slack grip. "You always seem to be in my orbit."

You peered up at Theo from beneath your eyelashes. You tilted your head, your lips curling into an insidious, self-satisfied smile that Theo didn't quite understand.

"Please. You want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid."

Theo felt a pang in his chest. His pulse stuttered and there was this nauseating feeling in his stomach. His vision swam, and it was all a bit blurry after that. The next thing he knew, there was an awful lot of shrieking coming from the crowd standing over him. Over him? His hand twitched. The hand that was on the very same rock-hard floor he was lying on. When did he get down here?

He groaned softly as the voices around him grew louder. There was this awful pounding rattling his skull. With considerable difficulty, he cracked an eye open, trying to get a sense of his bearings. Some of the silhouettes seemed vaguely familiar. He could recognise some voices - his friends must have found him. Those looked like Mattheo's shoelaces right next to his face.

And in the middle of it all was you, ashen face with a panic-stricken expression, with a vice-like grip on his forearms.

And then everything went black again.

Madam Pomfrey had come along just then, shooing Penelope and her photographer away. You weren't quite as lucky in your attempt to slip out with them. So now here you were, stoically holding Theo's hand in your slightly clammy palm at his bedside while she checked him over.

She hadn't told you to hold his hand. Theo decided he'd pull away in a minute. Maybe two.

He cleared his throat ineffectively, dry from a lack of water. You glanced at him.

"Admit it. You were terrified for a minute there."

You pressed your lips into a thin line like you were holding back a smile, trying to give the impression of watching Madam Pomfrey.

"You wish," you mumbled out of the corner of your mouth.

Still, he didn't miss the way you squeezed his hand as part of you relaxed in what seemed like relief.

"I know."

You dragged your gaze back to him, shaking your head somewhat affectionately as you took in the colour returning to his cheeks.

"I see you're feeling better already."

"Something about you gets my blood pumping."

Madam Pomfrey stepped away for a moment, leaving the two of you alone behind the screen. You leaned in until your noses were almost touching.

"Are you saying I make your heart race, Nott?"

This close, he can see the faint freckles scattered across your nose, the way your lashes brush your cheeks when you blink, and the flicker of mischief in your eyes. And for the first time in all the years he's known you, he admits to himself that perhaps you might be more than a little easy on the eyes. Especially his eyes.

"Sure," he says quietly, his gaze almost lovingly lingering over every blemish along your nose. "Let's go with that."

Part 2

[iamgonnagetyouback]

Hi ivy! For the holiday enemies to lovers prompts can you do 1,3,4 with Theo nott? Ofc you don’t have to use all of them if you don’t want to! Those 3 really stood out to me and I couldn’t pick just one 😅 thank you lovely!

SO, WHAT DOES THEODORE NOTT LIKE?.⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤㅤ●ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ T. NOTT

SUMMARY ৎ୭ ever since you picked theodore nott for secret santa, you've been in absolute denial about caring. you’re definitely not going out of your way to find the perfect gift, and you’re absolutely not asking his friends totally casual questions about his interests. but when you find out he’s staying at hogwarts for the holidays, you can’t help but pry—and somehow, along the way, you might just end up learning more about him than you ever planned to

WARNINGS ಇ. a very dramatic and nosy hufflepuff, flustered moments, and a slight identity crisis when you realize you might actually like him MORE OF THESE TWO ￫ ୨ৎ A/N ಇ. assuming this is your request @astonishment, thank you so much requesting! hope you like it ‹𝟹

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᡣ𐭩 words.ᐟ 1,673

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ౨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

There were exactly 47 hours and 12 minutes until the Hogwarts Secret Santa reveal, and you were on the verge of losing your entire mind.

Why? Because you had drawn Theodore freaking Nott as your Secret Santa recipient. Of all the people at Hogwarts, it had to be him: the cold, brooding, insufferable Slytherin who looked at you like you were the human embodiment of an unwashed sock.

“I’m cursed,” you moaned dramatically, sprawled across the couch in the Hufflepuff common room. “There’s no other explanation.”

From her chair by the fireplace, your friend Sarah barely looked up from her book. “What are you on about now?”

“My life is over,” you said, tossing an arm across your eyes for good measure. “I’ve been assigned him. The human icicle. The walking void of emotion.”

Sarah blinked. “You got Theodore Nott?”

You bolted upright, grabbing her arm like she’d just offered to save you from a sinking ship. “What do I do, Sarah?! What do you get someone who hates everything? A rock? A lump of coal?”

“Well…” Sarah started, but you were already off the couch and pacing.

“He’s going to hate anything I give him,” you wailed, hands flailing. “But I can’t not give him something because then I’ll look like a terrible person, and I’m not a terrible person, Sarah! I’m a Hufflepuff! We are legally obligated to be nice!”

“Legally?” Sarah said dryly, but you ignored her.

“And I can’t ask him what he likes because then he’ll know it’s me, and then he’ll think I’m stalking him, and—oh my gosh, what if he reports me to Snape?!”

“You’re spiralling,” Sarah said, but you were already halfway out the door.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ౨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Step one in your (brilliant, totally foolproof) plan was to interrogate Theodore’s friends. Casually. Subtly. Like a normal person.

Spoiler: You were not a normal person.

“Enzo!” you said brightly, sliding into the seat next to Lorenzo Berkshire at breakfast. “How’s it going? How’s life? How are your socks? Warm? Good. So, what does Theodore Nott like?”

Lorenzo froze mid-bite, his fork hovering in the air. “What?”

“You know, hobbies, interests, favorite snacks, deepest fears,” you said, waving a hand. “The usual.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Why do you want to know?”

“Oh, no reason!” You laughed—a little too loudly. “Just curious.”

“Is this for Secret Santa?” he asked, smirking. “Wait. Did you get Theo? Merlin’s beard, you got Theo!”

“NO!” you practically yelled, nearly knocking over your pumpkin juice. “Of course not! That would be absurd. Ha! Ha ha ha!”

Lorenzo leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“Am not!” you huffed. “I’m just… conducting a holiday-themed survey. For… science.”

“For science?” he repeated, amused. “Right. Well, Sunshine, if you’re so curious about Theo, why don’t you just ask him?”

“BECAUSE!” You threw your hands in the air. “He’s scary, Enzo! He’ll probably hex me or—I don’t know—stare at me with those stupid intense eyes of his.”

“His stupid intense eyes?” Enzo grinned, waggling his eyebrows. “Are you sure you don’t like him?”

“WHAT?!” You nearly fell out of your chair. “I don’t like him! I despise him! He’s rude and annoying and—ugh—he breathes too smugly!”

“Sure,” Enzo said, clearly not convinced. “Whatever you say, Sunshine.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ౨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You were nothing if not persistent. So, against your better judgment, you cornered Theodore himself in the library.

“What are you doing for the holidays?” you asked, plopping into the chair across from him.

Theodore didn’t even look up from his book. “Why do you ask and/or care?”

“I don’t care,” you said quickly. “I was just… wondering.”

He finally glanced at you, one dark eyebrow raised. “Why?”

“Because I’m nice,” you said, gesturing vaguely. “And curious. And it’s the holidays! Aren’t we supposed to, like, bond or something?”

“I’d rather not,” he said, turning a page.

You scowled. “Wow. You really know how to spread holiday cheer, don’t you?”

“Was there a point to this?” he asked, looking at you like you were a particularly annoying fly buzzing around his head.

“Yes,” you said, folding your arms. “The point is… I was just wondering if you’re going home for Christmas.”

“No,” he said shortly. “Now, are we done here?”

Your scowl deepened. “Why aren’t you going home?”

“Why do you care?” he shot back.

“I don’t!” you said, your voice a little too high-pitched. “I just… thought you might be lonely or something.”

Theodore’s lips twitched into the faintest smirk. “Worried about me, Sunshine?”

“No!” you said, cheeks burning. “Don’t flatter yourself, Nott. I was just—ugh, forget it!”

You stood up so quickly you almost knocked over your chair, muttering under your breath as you stomped away. Behind you, Theodore chuckled softly.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ౨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

By some miracle (or maybe sheer stubbornness), you managed to find the perfect gift: a leather-bound journal, simple yet elegant, with Theodore’s initials embossed on the cover.

When the time came for the Secret Santa exchange, you watched nervously as he unwrapped it, your palms clammy and your heart pounding.

He stared at the journal for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he looked up, his piercing green eyes locking onto yours.

“Did you…?” he started, but you cut him off.

“It’s not a big deal!” you said quickly, waving your hands. “I just—I mean, you don’t have to like it or anything. It’s fine if you hate it. I just thought—”

“Mio sole,” he interrupted, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “It’s perfect.”

You froze, your brain short-circuiting. “It… it is?”

He nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Thank you.”

For a moment, you just stared at him, completely dumbfounded. Then, because you didn’t know what else to do, you blurted, “You’re welcome! Merry Christmas! Okay, bye!”

You practically sprinted out of the room, your face burning, but you couldn’t stop the smile spreading across your face.

Maybe Theodore Nott wasn’t so bad after all.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ౨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Later, when you were sitting by the fire, Lorenzo plopped down beside you with a smug grin.

“So,” he said, nudging you. “You gave Theo his gift. How’d it go?”

“Fine,” you said, playing with the hem of your sweater. “He liked it.”

“‘Liked it,’” Lorenzo repeated. “That’s all you’re gonna say?”

“Yes,” you said firmly. “That’s all.”

Lorenzo smirked. “You’re blushing, Sunshine.”

“I am not!”

Across the room, Theodore caught your eye, and for the briefest moment, he smiled—a real, genuine smile. Your heart did a little flip, and you quickly looked away.

Lorenzo laughed. “Yeah. Totally not blushing.”

“Shut up, Enzo!”

Lorenzo's laughter trailed off as you smacked his arm, though he didn’t stop smirking like the absolute menace he was. You crossed your arms and sank deeper into your seat, huffing.

“Say, Enzo,” you began, your voice carefully nonchalant, “you know Italian, right?”

He raised a curious eyebrow but shrugged. “Yeah, of course.”

You turned to face him, fiddling nervously with the hem of your sleeve. “What does… uh… mio sole mean?”

The smirk that spread across his face was so smug, you immediately regretted asking. “Ohhh,” he drawled, leaning closer with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Who called you that?”

“No one!” you said, your voice jumping an octave. “I just heard it somewhere, that’s all. Totally random. Not a big deal!”

Enzo’s eyebrows wiggled like he was performing some sort of comedy act. “Not a big deal, huh? Sure. Well, it means ‘my sun.’ You know, like…” He trailed off dramatically before pointing straight at you. “Sunshine. My sunshine.”

Your face burned so hot, you were pretty sure you were moments away from combusting. “Oh,” you squeaked, your voice barely audible.

Enzo leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “So, Sunshine, care to explain who’s been whispering sweet nothings in Italian to you?”

“No one!” you said again, practically shouting this time. “I told you, I just heard it somewhere! That’s all! Ugh, you’re so annoying, Enzo!”

“I’m annoying?” he said with mock offense. “You’re the one coming to me with your mysterious Italian phrases. Next thing I know, you’ll be asking me how to confess your undying love to Theo in flawless Tuscan dialect.”

Your gasp was so loud, half the common room turned to look at you. “Excuse me?!”

Enzo’s smirk widened. “You’re excused.”

You sputtered incoherently, your brain a tangled mess of embarrassment and indignation. “I—he—there is nothing—you are impossible, Lorenzo Berkshire!”

Enzo laughed so hard, he nearly fell out of his chair. Meanwhile, you crossed your arms and buried your face in your hands, silently vowing to never speak to him again.

Across the room, Theodore caught your eye once more, his lips quirking up in a small, knowing smile. Your stomach flipped again, and you quickly turned away, cheeks blazing.

Enzo, noticing the exchange, gasped dramatically. “It is Theo, isn’t it?! Sunshine, you sly little—”

“ENOUGH!” You groaned, grabbing a cushion and whacking him with it. Enzo, of course, only laughed harder.

©iamgonnagetyouback౨ৎ please refrain from copying, translating, or reposting any of my work, translate, or repost any of my work.

[bontentrio]

ATEEZ GETTING OUT OF THE FRIENDZONE

san x gn reader + mingi x gn reader (separated)

part 2 to ateez stuck in the friendzone! read that part so this makes sense

tw: slow burn + veeery dramatic + angst + fluff

a/n: both have the slowestttt slow burns in history of friends to lovers omg my heart did kinda break a little while writing them lol so keep in mind that both are VERY dramatic. maybe even cliche but honestly i just wrote what i, personally, enjoy reading. i’m just a girl in love with love 🥹

masterlist

SAN

san found himself attempting to hide his smile while you told him about your awful date from a few days ago. you were laying down with your head on his lap as san casually untangled strands of your hair, while you rambled on and on about the misfortunes he secretly thought were fortunes in disguise.

“who talks about their mother on the first date? like the whole time i mean, of course it’s okay to mention one or two things following the context of the conversation” you said, moving your hands dramatically to prove your point “but the whole time? i tried to switch the topic of the conversation towards work and can you believe he told me about what his mother does for a living before telling me what HE does for HIS?”

san couldn’t help but let out a loud laugh. you were so cute and he was so happy and relieved that the date had failed.

“he should go to therapy” he said, in between giggles. “right?! sigmund freud would have been thrilled to have him as a patient” you exclaimed, laughing too.

after a few moments of cracking jokes and laughing about the situation, you turned your head to face san. “so what about you?” you asked. he looked down at you, smile on his face still. “what about me?”

“have you gone on dates lately?” you asked. he threw his head back, shaking it slightly “with what time? i’m too busy with schedules” he answered, half lying. it’s true that he’s very busy with his idol duties, but he always managed to make time for you. he knows he could easily use up that time to go on dates, but for obvious reasons that you still were ignorant to, he didn’t. to you, he was just an introvert.

“but are you not interested in anyone?” you pushed, lifting your head and sitting up to face him properly. san chose to avoid your eyes, not trusting himself to keep his own secret. instead, he looked to the city on his right, suddenly finding the building architectures more interesting. he noticed that the air in the terrace got warmer too, and the concrete platform you were sitting on got harder. or was he the one that got warmer and stiffer? “no, i don’t think so” he lied, but you knew him enough to see through it. “liar, you’re blushing”

“well it is an intimate question” he answered, attempting to smile in order to play it off. you shook your head no “you blushed and your left eye twitched a bit. that was definitely a lie and as your best friend i want to know!” you exclaimed, grabbing his hands. if only you knew the effect you had on him.

when he came back from tour, he was determined to confess. but now that the perfect opportunity arose, he couldn’t open his mouth. questions and different negative scenarios plagued his mind, convincing him that maybe it was a bad idea. he much rather work on moving on than lose you as a friend.

“are they that special to you?” you asked, in a much quieter tone of voice, noticing his silence. he nodded, staring at your eyes, hoping you could notice the love they held whenever he looked at you. but despite his desperation, you didn’t. “they are very lucky then, you genuinely are amazing in every aspect sannie”. you continued, going back to your original place with your head on his lap, but still holding his hands. he kept staring at you, if only you knew.

“thank you” san managed to say.

———

“how fast can you come over to help me with something?” you asked san on the phone, as he exited the practice room. it was like the stars aligned, because he had just finished for the day. “i can come over right now, are you okay?” he asked, worried something may be wrong despite you sounding relatively okay. “i can’t pick an outfit and- shit my aunt his calling me, invite yourself in when you arrive, i’m in my room and you already know the lock number of the door” you said, before hanging up.

outfit for what?

———

so that’s how san found himself sitting on your bed on a friday night, numerous pieces of clothing scattered all over without care. he scrolled through some unread messages while he waited for you to try on a different outfit for your new date. yes, new date. as if his heart haven’t just healed from last time.

“i matched with someone on this app and they immediately invited me on a date so now i’m having a fashion crisis” you had explained to him as soon as he entered your room. why was it so hard for you to realize that your dates have been failing for a reason?

you appeared once again, now wearing an outfit that honestly took san’s breath away as soon as his eyes landed on your figure. it was nothing too extravagant, actually, it was rather simple, but it was enough to make san’s head spiral. specially when you twirled around to show the outfit from the back, since your shirt had an open back.

“so? what do we think?” you asked, eyes filled with hope.

san was conflicted: he was 100% sure he has never seen anyone look more beautiful, more dashing, more perfect. but, it wasn’t for him. he didn’t want anyone else to look at you like that, they would never come remotely close to the way he feels about you.

“san-?” you started to ask after a few seconds of silence, but got interrupted by him: “don’t go on that date”

you looked at him confused, as he stared back with the same surprised face. that really had slipped from his lips before he realized what he was saying. you fucked up big time san, he thought to himself.

“why? do i really look that bad?” you asked, turning around to face the mirror in order to examine your body and face. he noticed the way your eyes dimmed, as you carefully traced your eyes over your figure, finding little imperfections that made your face turn into a sad frown. san felt his own heart shatter at the sight, and before he knew, he stood up and quickly hugged you from behind, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

“sannie?” you asked, startled by his sudden action and making you momentarily forget about the insecurities that started flooding your mind. you looked at him through the mirror: even if he was leaning down on you, he was still much wider, making you feel very small in his arms. unconsciously, you lifted your hand and patted his hair. san lifted his head, looking at you through the mirror as well, and your eyes interlocked.

“you’re perfect y/n” he whispered. “i’m sorry if i gave you the wrong idea, you look beautiful and your date is very lucky”. he was trying to be supportive, but traces of sadness and desperation were evident in his face. enough for you to notice. you turned around, and the same hand that was patting his head went down to his cheek, holding him in place to look at you.

“what’s wrong san?” you asked, softly. your thumb traced comforting circles on his cheek, and you could feel his arms tighten around you as he closed his eyes.

“go on that date” he whispered in a shaky voice, before adding “you look beautiful”.

you stared at him confused for a few moments, not really knowing what to say. then, he kissed your forehead and, with the little bit of strenght he had left in him, unwrapped his arms, stepping back. he grabbed his jacket and went to the door, but not before shooting you another sad look and saying “like i said, your date is very lucky”.

he left, heart in his hands, slowly breaking with each step.

you cancelled the date.

———

san couldn’t sleep that night, he kept tossing and turning as his mind wandered about what you were doing with your date. were you still having dinner? no, probably not since it’s like 2 am. maybe it went so well that you invited them over for coffee at your place, something that will probably lead to something else. something he didn’t even want to imagine, since it wasn’t him committing those sins.

maybe it was time to move on, after all. he wants you to be happy, truly, so if your happiness doesn’t include him, then he should at least be supportive. and in order to do that from the bottom of his heart, he should move-

*knock knock knock* he heard, coming from the door. he decided to ignore it, thinking that it was probably mingi, so he turned around and closed his eyes, pretending he was asleep.

“maybe he’s asleep, i should come back tomorrow but thank you soenghwa” he heard you say from behind the door. he never got out of bed faster, as he sprinted to the door and opened it widely.

there you stood, now dressed in a familiar oversized shirt and baggy pants. completely different from the outfit he last saw you on, but to him you still looked beautiful. you looked at him with wide eyes, as seonghwa smirked next to you.

“i’ll leave you alone” he said, before he made his way to his room and shut the door behind him.

you stood there awkwardly, avoiding his eyes. you came here with a question, but now that you had san right in front of you, thoughts were scattered all over your mind and you couldn’t say a word.

“come in” he said, sensing your internal dilemma. you nodded in response, as you entered and made your way to his unmade bed.

“did i wake you up?” you asked. san shut the door and shook his head “actually i couldn’t sleep”

“me neither” you said in a low voice.

“how was your date?” he asked, unsure of what to say. he sat next to you on the bed, looking at you while trying to decipher your expression. you turned your head to san’s bedside table, finding the small plushie you once gifted him randomly. you smiled. “i cancelled it”

“what? why?!” he asked, with surprised wide eyes. you turned back to him. “i suddenly didn’t want to go, that’s it really. so while i was tidying up my room i found this shirt” you said, fiddling with the ends of the shirt that looked a little too big on you “the one you once lent me after we got stuck in the rain that one time. i told you i would wash it and give it back, but i didn’t. why didn’t i give it back to you?”

san stared at you in silence.

“so i realized it still had your perfume, and before i knew it, i had put it on. then i started thinking about you, about us. you’re my best friend, you know? but as i was laying down on my bed, i was thinking: what if you were not? what if my dates always failed for a reason?” you continued, as your fingers reached for his. “what if the reason they always failed was because i always searched you in them? so again, before i realized i was standing in front of your apartment, but with one question in my mind”

san could feel his heart beat increase and his breath shorten.

“what will happen to us and our friendship if i told you how i feel? how i think i always felt even if i didn’t know it?” you asked, looking at him scared.

“you’re dumb” he said, loud enough for only you to hear. that didn’t surprise you, what did was the way he immediately let go of your hand in order to hug you close, bringing you closer to his body. “what will happen? how would i feel? y/n you’re dumb because that’s how i’ve been feeling for a long time now” he said, hands leaving your waist and craddling your face. san stared at you, and now you realized that his eyes looked different: they held love in them. something you always searched on random people in dating apps, yet were never able to find. instead, it has been right in front of you this whole time.

“i love you” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. finally, he thought. he finally said the words he has been keeping locked deeply inside him for years. you smiled, as your nose touched his. “i love you too, i’m sorry i just realized”

maybe it was time to give you the silver necklace he bought you on tour, since now the timing was right.

MINGI

mingi missed you, a lot. he hadn’t heard from you since you stormed out of his house a week and a half ago. he had left you a couple of texts apologizing, and even attempted calling you, but to no avail. you had disappeared, and he didn’t blame you, he was stupid enough to let you go. in fact, that’s the thing he regretted the most about the fight: not chasing after you.

so he did what he knew best: he took his misery and transformed it into work, to be precise, he wrote three songs, all about his feelings, the situation in itself and you.

three different scenarios that made him hear yunho’s voice calling him dramatic in his mind. to be honest, he knew he was being a little dramatic about the situation. he knew that you probably just needed time to cool down, and that if his apology was good enough you would forgive him in a heart beat, because, in the end, he knew you loved him. maybe not in the way he wished for, but you loved him nonetheless.

mingi stared at the ceiling in silence, wondering what were you doing while he layed on his bed feeling miserable. did you miss him too? were you also thinking about him? he was certain of one thing only: he wanted to see you. it didn’t matter to him if you opened the door or not, he needed to at least hear your voice through the door.

he checked the time: 11:47 pm, almost midnight. fuck it, he thought. he stood up and quickly got dressed in a speed record time, tied up his shoes and grabbed his keys and song notebook in the process. by 11:55 pm he was already closing the door of his car.

as mingi started driving, questions also started flooding his mind: will you hate him if he suddenly showed up? what if you had invited someone over? shouldn’t he have discussed this with one of his friends first just in case?

questions, questions, questions.

no answers.

soon enough, he found himself standing in front of your apartment door. he could easily ring the door bell, knock on the door or simply use the spare key you gave him once for emergencies. yet, he was unable to do any, frozen in place as he mentally debated on what to do.

mingi decided to do something odd, something he would have probably laughed at if he saw it in one of the movies you usually forced him to watch with you: he took out his pen and notebook, ripped off one of the pages and wrote on it. then, he slid it under the door and left.

“i’ll tell you everything -m”

———

you have always been a hopeless romantic, mingi knew that perfectly well. you believed in happy endings, and that love and friendship can win over everything. so why hasn’t he heard from you still? did you not get the note? should he leave another one? no, that would be too pushy, it was only two days ago.

questions, questions, questions.

still no answers.

mingi was sulking again, and honestly it started to worry seonghwa and san, who watched as he walked back to his room right after dinner, without saying a word during the whole night. honestly, he was just too lost in his thoughts. their pair exchanged a look, before following him.

“mingi, hold up, everything okay? you’re more… distracted than usual” seonghwa said, carefully choosing his words. mingi hummed in response, nodding as he stopped in his tracks. “yeah, there’s just a lot in my head” he answered, not looking at his friends. “let us hear it then” san said, patting his back and leading them towards the living room.

the trio sat down on the sofa they had bought a few months ago, the one you had scolded them about because it seemed very expensive and too hard to clean. they had all laughed, but soon enough realized you were right when mingi spilled a bit of sauce on it. the stain was still there.

“so? what’s wrong?” seonghwa asked once they all got comfortable. mingi sighed, looking down before he started spilling everything that had happened, from two weeks ago until now. he noticed the eldest nodding along the story, but neither of them said anything until he finished.

“when exactly did you leave this note?” san asked, fidgeting with his bracelet. “two days ago” mingi answered. san’s eyes went wide, as he muttered a small fuck before he sprinted towards the kitchen. seonghwa and mingi exchanged a look, both equally confused at their friend’s actions. after a few moments and very weird sounds that came from the kitchen, san appeared again, with a crumbled up yellow post it in his hand. he handed it to mingi.

“the hell is this? it has food stains san, gross” mingi said with a disgusted face as he barely touched the paper. “open it, i found it this morning” san said, sitting down next to him again. mingi gave his friends a strange look, before carefully opening the crumbled up piece of paper. as he read, his eyes widened in surprise.

“what time is it?!” he exclaimed. “9 pm” seonghwa answered, checking the time in his phone. mingi muttered a small fuck, before putting his shoes on, and grabbing his bag.

“i’ll be back in a while” he said, before shutting the door behind him.

seonghwa looked at san, confused. “what the hell did the paper say?” he asked. san picked it up from the floor and showed it to him:

“8 pm, our special place”.

the hand writing was yours.

———

mingi was almost sure he broke one or two speeding laws on his way to the park where he hoped you were still waiting at. he cursed san for not telling him sooner, even if he knew it wasn’t really his fault to begin with. the park wasn’t far from his apartment though, just a short 10 minute drive. as cliche as it sounds, it was the park were you both met.

at that time, around 6 years ago or so, his mind revolved around perfection, hard work, pressure, debut. so he would succumb to overwhelming feelings pretty often, that forced him to need some time alone. that’s how he found a park nearby, and specifically, one peculiar tree that caught his attention for some reason. he used to sit down under it, notebook on his lap and pen between his fingers, as he scribbled down some random thoughts that plagued his mind during hard moments. he didn’t really plan to turn his words into songs yet, it was just his way to deal with stress. he used to find these little moments very special: it was like he was reconnecting with his inner, truer self, and not the mean facade he wore in front of his soon to be members. yeah, some of them irked him, like that wooyoung guy, but he didn’t mean to be that rude all the time. so, to escape the constant pressure kq fellaz was facing in between the company walls, he found solace in a park, but specifically, he found solace under that tree.

he could remember the day he met you like it was yesterday. he remembers all the stress he was feeling, debut date coming closer and closer. everyone was on edge, from the members to the staff. he had also recently come back from morocco after successfully shooting his first music video! but he couldn’t deny it: as much as he was excited, he was already feeling a little tired. he needed some alone time, just himself with his thoughts. so he found himself walking towards his favorite spot in the park.

only to find you there, sitting down under the tree. his tree to be precise. and you were writing on a pink notebook with a fluffy pen. mingi felt like he was looking at a reflection of himself, but instead of being comforted by it, he felt annoyed. it was HIS tree after all!

“excuse me, this is my spot” he said, coming into your field of vision. you looked up to him, pausing your hand and taking an earphone off. “excuse me?”

“this is my spot” he reiterated, making you chuckle slightly. “the tree you mean? does it have your name or something?” you asked, finding the situation hilarious. he rolled his eyes in annoyance, why did nothing go his way?! “listen, i had a shitty day and i need to sit there for a while, so can you leave?”

“no, i got here first. plus there are tons of other trees here, it’s a park after all” you said, putting your earphone back on and turning your gaze to your notebook. he stayed still in his place in front of you, making you huff in annoyance at his persistence. “look dude, i am not going to move. you can either sit on the opposite side or leave, i don’t care but stop bothering me” you continued.

mingi really really reaaaally needed to be at his safe place, too overwhelmed to funcion rationally, so he rolled his eyes and sat on the opposite side of the tree.

that’s how the story started: at opposite sides of the tree. soon enough it got replaced by sitting nearby, and eventually next to each other. some times you would even bring snacks to share in silence, as you both wrote down your thoughts on your respective notebooks. once he debuted, he broke the silence for the first time, urging you to listen to his song. after that, you started talking more, about music, shows, your respective jobs and life in itself. the safe place you both found under the tree, was also found in each other, quickly realizing you often shared the same thoughts and views about the world.

the story started under a tree, and he hoped it wouldn’t end there too. he needed you to be there, because he wasn’t ready to lose not only his best friend, but also his safe place. even the tree would become stained from the pain. and he would have nothing left, just questions, questions, and more questions about different what ifs.

you weren’t there.

but mingi wasn’t about to give up anytime soon. he started running towards the direction of your apartment, forgetting that he had parked the car on the opposite direction. his legs were aching, and he felt like he was a bit out of breath, despite all the idol training he has been enduring for six years. but he kept running.

until he spot you in the distance.

“y/n!” he yelled. he saw you stop in your tracks and turn around to his direction, confused at the sudden call of your name. once you spotted him running towards you, you sprinted to him.

his body collapsed against yours, as he hugged you tightly, like you would disappear if he let you go. mingi hid his face in the crook of your neck as you wrapped your arms around his back. you could hear his quick heart beat from how close he held you, and you were sure he could hear yours too.

after a while, mingi lifted his head from your neck, and looked at you. “why are you crying?” he asked, wiping away the tears with his thumbs. “i thought you wouldn’t come, why are you crying mingi?” you asked, repeating his own actions, but on his cheeks. he giggled, he didn’t even realize he was crying. “i thought i lost you” he said, truthfully.

the park was dark, the only lights came from street lights. so, for outsiders, you probably looked like a random couple having a dramatic moment. definitely not mingi from idol group ateez and his best friend y/n reconciliating.

“i’m sorry” he whispered, locking his eyes with yours. they still held tears, that threatened to spill depending on your answer. you shook your head “no, i’m sorry mings, i shouldn’t have walked away like that. plus i didn't even give you a chance to explain”.

“i’m sorry for not showing you the songs, for not chasing you, and for being too much of a coward to not face you directly” he apologized. you hugged him again, shushing him. “i shouldn’t have pressured you to show me, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do”

mingi looked at you again, and bit his lip. “can i still show you though?”

“it’s not necessary, mingi, it’s fine real-“ you started saying before he interrupted you, taking your hand and leading you towards the same old place from before. “i want to” he said, determined.

you let him whisk you away.

———

back at the peculiar tree that was iluminated enough by a street lamp a few meters away, he sat you down at your usual spot. he sat down beside you, as he pulled out his notebook from his bag. mingi gave it to you.

“mingi, this really isn’t necessary-“ you started saying once again. “please” he interrupted, with pleading eyes. so you took his notebook and opened it on the first page. you already read that song, it was the first one he ever wrote a long while back. “read the last ones”

you turned the pages, until you found them. mingi looked at you nervously, starting to feel fidgety at the thought of you realizing his deepest secret, the only one he hid from you. he just hoped you wouldn’t hate him. he scanned your face, puffy eyes filling with tears once again as realization hit you. you turned your gaze back to him with wide, surprised eyes.

“mingi- what? wait, hold on” you stammered, as tears fell from your eyes. you quickly set his notebook aside to grab your own bag, taking out your new pink notebook, your diary. you handed it to him, saying: “open it on august 5th”

he stared at you confused, and slightly unsure too, since you’ve always been pretty secretive about what you wrote there. he found the page and read:

“august 5th.

so i realized something, that i’m almost too afraid to write even here. i’m scared that if i admit it, i’ll have to face a sad reality. i think i’m in love with my best friend, isn’t that stupid? that’s how i feel, at least. i haven’t seen him in a while because of his work, and i feel like i’m slowly losing my mind. why do i only feel complete when he’s with me? scratch that, why am i even writing this?

anyways, i’ll probably die with the secret”

“now turn to september 16th” you said, avoiding his eyes.

“september 16th.

i’m in love with my best friend. i love mingi. how insane is that? and how stupid? he is my best friend, for god’s sake. but i can’t help the way i feel, specially when he’s so annoyingly observant. like for example, the other day he noticed my pen was dying, so today he surprised me with a new fluffy pink pen. i hate him for making my heart swell at such gestures. specially because i know I KNOW that’s what best friends do.

anyways i’m not gonna use his pen because i decided i’m going to preserve it forever”

“and now, tun to november 10th” you muttered. mingi realized it was yesterday’s date.

“november 10th.

i still love him. and i fucked up. but i’m still in love with him”

he closed your notebook, turning towards you. he found you with your face on your knees, as you hugged your legs, too embarrassed to face him, despite now knowing his feelings. he loves you too, with the same devotion, with the same desperation and intensity. mingi loves you, his best friend.

“look at me, y/n” he whispered. you slowly lifted your head, hesitantly looking at him. the way you both looked at each other held more intimacy than ever. mingi slowly reached for you, bringing your face closer to his. his hold was shaky, almost unsure, this was a whole new territory. he took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“i love you” he admitted.

too many questions, that finally got an answer.

“i love you too” you whispered.

taglist: @yoongles2025 @reallychaoticwoo

(to be added please let me know)

[paxtito]

pretty girl

pairings: wednesday x fem!reader

word count: 3685

warnings: smut 18+. just lesbian sex innit (w receiving)— (all characters are 18+)

summary: wednesday put together a little surprise date night, but, enid being enid, couldn’t keep it a secret

a/n: based on this request: ‘I love your writing and was wondering if you could make another smut fic with Wednesday? Maybe something sorta soft, honestly anything would do. Thanks!’ hope this is what you were looking for and thank you!! spent the day resting which gave me plenty of time to do this because my lil’ anger issues of a dog bit my cheek after wanting my birthday cake 😒

MASTERLIST

The morning air is crisp as you walk across campus with Enid, her usual vibrant energy making up for your grogginess. You clutch your coffee tightly, half-listening as she chatters about the latest gossip in the werewolf pack.

“And then Ajax tried to—are you even listening to me?” she asks, bumping her shoulder into yours playfully.

“Barely,” you admit with a small smile, taking another sip of your coffee. “It’s too early for full Enid mode.”

“Rude,” she pouts dramatically before grinning. “But fine, I’ll get to the point. I’m sleeping over at Yoko’s tonight!”

“Wait, what?” you ask, blinking at her. “Why?”

Enid’s steps falter, and she looks away for a moment, biting her lip. “Oh, uh, no reason!”

You narrow your eyes at her, immediately suspicious. “Enid…”

“It’s nothing!” she insists, waving her hands defensively. “Totally normal, just, uh, bestie stuff. You know, girl talk, vampire-werewolf bonding, that kind of thing.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re a terrible liar.”

She groans, throwing her head back dramatically. “Fine! But you can’t tell Wednesday I told you, okay? She’d literally kill me. Like, for real this time.”

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of Wednesday. “What does she have to do with this?”

Enid hesitates, looking torn. “Ugh, okay, fine,” she blurts out, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “She’s planning something for you tonight. Like, a date night or something. She told me to clear out so you two could have the dorm to yourselves.”

A warm, unexpected blush creeps up your neck. “Wait… Wednesday planned something? For me?”

Enid nods, her grin widening. “Yup! And let me tell you, she’s been stressing about it all week. She even glared at me less than usual yesterday, so you know it’s serious.”

You can’t help but smile, your heart fluttering at the thought of Wednesday going out of her way to plan something for you. “That’s… actually really sweet.”

“Right? But don’t tell her I told you, okay?” Enid warns, gripping your arm. “She swore me to secrecy and gave me this whole creepy ‘I’ll bury you alive’ speech. Classic Wednesday.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

“Good. Because I value my life,” Enid says with mock seriousness before breaking into a smile. “But seriously, I’m happy for you guys. She’s got a soft spot for you, you know.”

Your smile grows as you think about Wednesday, her deadpan expression softening ever so slightly when she’s around you, the way her hand lingers in yours when no one’s looking. “Yeah,” you say quietly, more to yourself than to Enid. “I know.”

As the two of you reach the doors to your next class, you can’t help but feel a little giddy. Whatever Wednesday has planned, you know it’ll be something only she could come up with—quiet, dark, and maybe a little macabre. And you can’t wait to see what she’s put together.

—

The afternoon sun filters through the classroom windows, casting a warm glow across your desk. Your fingers absentmindedly tap against the surface as you try to focus on the teacher's droning voice, but your thoughts keep drifting to Wednesday and the surprise she has planned for you.

Despite your best efforts to keep a straight face, a small, giddy smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. You sneak a glance at Wednesday from the corner of your eye, trying to gauge her reaction.

To your surprise, she's already staring at you, her dark eyes narrowed in suspicion. Your gaze meets hers, and you quickly look away, feeling your cheeks heat up under her intense scrutiny.

"You," she says flatly, her voice cutting through the monotony of the lecture. "Are you feeling alright? You seem... distracted."

You swallow hard, your mind racing for an excuse. "I'm fine," you manage, keeping your tone as neutral as possible. "Just thinking about the assignment."

Wednesday raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. Her gaze bores into you, as if she's trying to read your thoughts.

You squirm in your seat, suddenly feeling like a bug under a microscope. You can practically hear Enid's voice in your head, warning you not to blow her cover.

But it's too late. Wednesday's eyes widen slightly, a flicker of panic crossing her face before she schools her features back into a neutral expression.

"Ah," she says slowly, leaning back in her chair. "Well, I'm sure you'll figure it out."

You bite your lip, wondering if you should press further. But before you can open your mouth, the bell rings, signaling the end of class.

Wednesday stands abruptly, gathering her books without another word. She brushes past you, her shoulder bumping against yours in a way that feels almost like a dismissal.

You watch her go, your heart sinking. You've blown it, haven't you? Ruined whatever surprise she had planned.

You scramble to your feet, nearly tripping over your chair in your haste. Your backpack slips off the desk, scattering your belongings across the floor.

"Wednesday, wait!" you call out, your voice echoing in the now-empty classroom.

You chase after her, weaving through the throng of students in the hallway. Your heart pounds in your chest as you catch up to her, reaching out to grasp her arm.

Wednesday whirls around, her dark eyes flashing with irritation. "What?" she snaps, her voice sharp.

You swallow hard, trying to find the right words. "I... I'm sorry," you manage, your voice coming out smaller than you intended. "I didn't mean to ruin your surprise. I just... I couldn't help myself."

For a moment, Wednesday just stares at you, her expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, her shoulders slump slightly, and she lets out a sigh.

"You're impossible," she mutters, but there's no real heat behind her words.

You blink, taken aback by her sudden shift in demeanor. "I... I know," you say softly, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. "But I meant what I said. I'm sorry."

Wednesday is silent for a moment, and then she nods, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Fine," she says, her tone grudging. "But don't think this means you're off the hook. You owe me one."

You grin, relief washing over you. "I can live with that," you say, your voice light and teasing. "So... are you going to tell me what you have planned, or do I have to guess?"

Wednesday rolls her eyes, but there's a hint of amusement in her gaze. "Guess," she says simply, before turning and walking away, leaving you to follow in her wake.

—

You stand outside Wednesday's dorm room, your hand hovering over the doorknob. You take a deep breath, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach.

Despite your earlier promise to keep quiet, you can't shake the nagging feeling that you've ruined whatever surprise she had planned. You glance down at your uniform, suddenly self-conscious about your appearance.

"Get it together," you mutter to yourself, giving your skirt a quick smoothing. "She's not going to bite."

With a final nod of determination, you raise your hand and knock on the door. The sound echoes through the empty hallway, making you wince.

Silence greets you for a moment, and you wonder if Wednesday is ignoring you. But then, the door swings open, revealing Wednesday standing in the doorway.

She's changed out of her school uniform, now wearing a simple black dress that falls to her knees. Her hair is loose, tumbling down her back in dark waves.

For a moment, you're struck dumb, your brain short-circuiting at the sight of her. She looks... pretty. Soft. Nothing like her usual sharp edges and icy demeanor.

Wednesday arches an eyebrow, her lips twisting into a smirk. "Cat got your tongue?" she asks, her voice dry.

You shake your head, feeling your cheeks heat up. "No," you manage, clearing your throat. "I just... I didn't expect you to look so..."

You trail off, not quite sure how to finish that sentence without sounding like a complete fool. Wednesday's smirk widens, and she steps aside, gesturing for you to enter.

"Come in," she says simply, before closing the door behind you with a soft click.

You step into Wednesday's dorm room, your eyes widening as you take in the scene before you. The furniture has been pushed to the sides, creating a large open space in the center of the room. Soft, ambient lighting casts a warm glow over everything, making the room feel intimate and cozy.

In the middle of it all stands Wednesday, her posture perfect, her expression unreadable. She's holding out her hand to you, a silent invitation.

"What's all this?" you ask, your voice coming out a little breathless.

Wednesday's lips curve into a small, enigmatic smile. "I'm going to teach you how to dance," she says simply, her tone matter-of-fact.

You blink, taken aback by her words. "Dance?" you repeat, feeling a little foolish. "Like... ballroom dancing?"

Wednesday nods, her dark eyes glinting with a hint of amusement. "Yes," she confirms, her voice dry. "Like my parents do. It's a family tradition."

You feel your heart skip a beat at the thought of Wednesday's parents, of the life she leads outside of Nevermore. It's a side of her you've never seen before, and the idea of being a part of it, even in a small way, makes your stomach flutter.

"I... I'd like that," you manage, stepping forward to take her hand.

Wednesday's fingers are cool against yours, her grip firm and steady. She pulls you closer, her body mere inches from yours.

"Good," she says simply, before beginning to guide you through the steps.

You stumble a little at first. But Wednesday is patient, her instructions clear and concise. Slowly, you begin to find your rhythm, moving in tandem with her.

As you dance, you can't help but notice the way Wednesday's eyes never leave yours. There's an intensity there, a depth of emotion that makes your breath catch in your throat.

"You're doing well," she murmurs, her voice soft. "Just follow my lead."

You move gracefully in Wednesday's arms, your body reacting instinctively to her guidance. The fabric of your black trousers brushes against her dress as you spin, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine.

Wednesday's gaze is intense, her dark eyes boring into yours with an unspoken question. You swallow hard, trying to ignore the way your heart races at her proximity.

"You're a natural," she murmurs, her voice low and intimate. "I knew you'd be good at this."

You duck your head, feeling a blush creep up your neck. "It's easy when I have a good partner," you manage, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Wednesday's lips curve into a small, enigmatic smile. "Is that so?" she asks, her tone teasing.

You nod, your gaze flickering down to her lips for a brief moment before meeting her eyes again. "Definitely," you confirm, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wednesday hums, her fingers tightening around yours. "Good," she says simply, before pulling you closer, your bodies now just inches apart.

You can feel the heat radiating off her skin, the scent of her perfume filling your nostrils. Your breath hitches, your pulse pounding in your ears.

"Now," Wednesday says, her voice low and husky. "Let's try something a little more... challenging."

She steps back, her hand leaving yours. You feel a momentary pang of loss, your fingers aching to touch her again.

But then Wednesday begins to move, her body swaying to a beat only she can hear. She extends her hand, a silent invitation for you to join her.

You hesitate for a moment, your heart hammering in your chest. But then, with a deep breath, you step forward, ready to follow wherever she leads.

You take Wednesday's hand, her fingers cool and strong in your grasp. She pulls you close, your bodies pressing together as she guides you into a new dance.

This one is more sensual, the steps slower and more deliberate. Wednesday's gaze never leaves yours, her dark eyes smoldering with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat.

You move together, your bodies swaying in perfect sync. The world around you fades away, until there is nothing but the two of you, lost in the rhythm of the dance.

Wednesday's hand slides up your arm, her fingers trailing over your skin. You shiver at the contact, your nerve endings igniting with each touch.

"You're doing well," she murmurs, her lips barely brushing against your ear. "Keep going."

You nod, your body responding to her commands without hesitation. You've never felt so in tune with another person, so utterly in sync.

As the dance comes to an end, Wednesday pulls you into a final, tight embrace. You can feel the heat of her body against yours, the softness of her breasts pressing into your chest.

For a moment, you're frozen, your heart pounding in your ears. You know you should pull away, put some distance between you. But you can't bring yourself to move, not when Wednesday feels so perfect in your arms.

Slowly, tentatively, you raise your hand, your fingers brushing against the silky strands of her hair. Wednesday's eyes flutter closed, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

"Y/N," she breathes, your name a prayer on her tongue. "I..."

Your heart races as Wednesday's breathy voice caresses your name. In this moment, suspended in time, the world seems to fall away, leaving only the two of you, hearts beating as one.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, you lean in closer, your forehead resting against hers. Your hands slide up to cup her face, thumbs gently stroking her high cheekbones.

Wednesday's eyes flutter open, dark and filled with a vulnerability you've never seen before. Her hands come up to rest on your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt.

"I..." she starts, her voice barely a whisper. "I want..."

But she trails off, unable to finish the thought. Instead, she closes the remaining distance between you, pressing her lips to yours in a kiss that steals your breath away.

You melt into the kiss, your body molding against hers like it was made to fit. Wednesday's lips are soft and warm, moving against yours with a desperate hunger.

Your hands slide into her hair, tangling in the silky strands as you deepen the kiss. Wednesday makes a soft noise in the back of her throat, a sound of pure need.

Time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the taste and feel of her. The rest of the world fades away, leaving only this moment, this connection.

When you finally break apart, you're both breathing heavily, your cheeks flushed and eyes glazed. Wednesday rests her forehead against yours, her hands still gripping your waist tightly.

"That was..." she starts, her voice rough with emotion.

"Perfect," you finish for her, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Wednesday hums in agreement, nuzzling her nose against yours. "I've wanted to do that for a while now," she admits, her tone shy.

You chuckle softly, your fingers carding through her hair. "I'm glad you did," you murmur, bringing your lips to hers once more.

As you kiss, you know that this is just the beginning. The start of something new, something beautiful and terrifying and utterly intoxicating.

Wednesday's hands slide down to your hips, her fingers gripping your waistband tightly. With a sudden tug, she pulls you flush against her, your body pressing into hers.

You gasp at the contact, your hands flying up to grip her shoulders for balance. Wednesday takes advantage of your momentary distraction, walking you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed.

With a soft push, she sends you tumbling onto the mattress, her body following yours. You land with a bounce, your breath knocked from your lungs as Wednesday settles on top of you, her weight pinning you in place.

"Wednesday," you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper. "What are you..."

But your question is cut off as Wednesday captures your lips in another searing kiss. Her tongue delves into your mouth, exploring every inch of you with a desperate hunger.

You moan into the kiss, your hands sliding down to grip her hips, urging her closer. Wednesday grinds against you, the heat of her core seeping through the thin layers of fabric separating you.

Wednesday breaks the kiss, her dark eyes boring into yours with an intensity that steals your breath. She sits up, straddling your hips, her hands resting on your chest.

"I want you," she whispers, her voice low and husky. "But we don't have to..."

You reach up, cupping her face in your hands. "I want this," you assure her, your thumb brushing over her bottom lip. "I want you."

Wednesday nods, her gaze never leaving yours. Slowly, she leans down, pressing her lips to yours in a deep, passionate kiss.

Your hands slide down her back, settling on her hips. You guide her movements, encouraging her to grind against you. The friction is delicious, the heat building between your legs.

Wednesday gasps into your mouth, her hips moving faster, more urgently. You can feel her growing wetter, her arousal soaking through your clothes.

You break the kiss, panting heavily. "Let me," you plead, your voice rough with desire.

Wednesday nods, shifting off of you. You sit up, your fingers trembling slightly as you reach for the hem of her dress. With a swift movement, you pull it over her head, tossing it aside.

She sits before you, clad only in a black lace bra and matching panties. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of her, her pale skin flawless in the dim light.

You lean forward, pressing reverent kisses along her collarbone, down the swell of her breasts. Wednesday shivers, her fingers tangling in your hair.

You take a moment to drink in the sight of her, your gaze roaming over her body appreciatively. Wednesday flushes under your attention, her thighs pressing together shyly.

"You're so beautiful," you whisper, your voice filled with awe.

Wednesday shakes her head, her dark hair falling in waves around her face. "I'm not..." she starts, but you silence her with a kiss.

Switching positions, you lay Wednesday down on the bed, your body covering hers. You capture her lips in a searing kiss, your tongue delving into her mouth, exploring every inch of her.

Wednesday moans softly into the kiss, her hips arching up to meet yours. Your hands slide down her sides, cupping her breasts through the thin lace of her bra.

You break the kiss, your lips trailing down her neck, nipping at her collarbone. Wednesday gasps, her fingers digging into your back, urging you on.

Your hand slides down her stomach, teasing the edge of her panties. Wednesday's breath hitches, her thighs parting slightly in invitation.

You dip your fingers beneath the fabric, finding her slick and ready for you. Wednesday whimpers, her hips bucking into your touch.

Your fingers glide through Wednesday's slick folds, finding her sensitive bud. She gasps, her hips jerking at the sudden contact.

"Y/N," she breathes, your name a prayer on her lips.

You circle her clit with teasing strokes, reveling in the way her body responds to your touch. Wednesday's thighs tremble, her hands fisting in the sheets beneath her.

Slowly, you slide a finger inside her, groaning at the way her walls clench around you. Wednesday is so hot, so tight, so perfect.

You add a second finger, pumping them in and out of her slick heat. Wednesday's head thrashes on the pillow, her mouth falling open in a silent cry of pleasure.

Your thumb finds her clit again, rubbing firm circles around the sensitive nub. Wednesday's hips buck wildly, her body chasing the release you're so eager to give her.

"Please," she whimpers, her voice barely audible. "I need..."

But she doesn't finish the thought, her body arching off the bed as you curl your fingers just right. You can feel her getting closer, her walls fluttering around your digits.

With a final twist of your wrist, Wednesday comes undone, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm. You hold her through it, whispering words of praise and encouragement.

As she comes down from her high, you press soft kisses to her sweat-dampened skin, murmuring your love and devotion. Wednesday clings to you, her body still trembling with aftershocks.

In this moment, the rest of the world fades away. There is only the two of you, wrapped in each other's arms, basking in the afterglow of love and passion.

—

You wake to the sound of the door opening, your eyes fluttering open to find Wednesday still asleep beside you. For a moment, you simply lie there, taking in the sight of her.

Her dark hair is fanned out across the pillow, her face relaxed in sleep. Your gaze travels down her body, tracing the curves and dips you explored so thoroughly the night before.

The door swings open fully, revealing a surprised Enid standing in the doorway. Her eyes widen as she takes in the scene before her - you and Wednesday, tangled together in the afterglow.

"Oh," she breathes, her cheeks flushing pink. "I... I didn't know you two were..."

You sit up quickly, pulling the covers up to your chin. Wednesday stirs, her eyes blinking open in confusion.

"Enid?" she mumbles, her voice thick with sleep.

Enid clears her throat, averting her gaze. "Sorry," she says, backing out of the room. "I'll just... I'll leave you two alone."

The door clicks shut behind her, leaving you and Wednesday in a tense silence. You glance at her, unsure of what to say.

But Wednesday just sighs, turning to face you. "Well," she says, her tone dry. "That's one way to start the day."

[dumbseee]

reunited.

when you’re the one interviewing lando norris for the podcast you co-created with your best friend, the only issue is that you’re his ex.

lando norris x ex!reader.

fc: riley hubatka.

_

liked by y/b, yourbestie, ameliadimz and 271 728 others.

cutthecam: guess who’s joining us tomorrow 👀

_

fan1: NO FUCKING WAY???

fan2: THEY’RE HAVING LANDO NORRIS???

fan3: how tf did they manage to get him on that podcast?

fan4: it looks like everyone forgot that y/n and lando used to date…

fan5: WHAT

fan6: FOR REAL???

fan7: is y/n doing the interview?? because yourbestie is literally in cabo partying with tana mongeau

fan8: Y/N AND LANDO REUNITED YEARS AFTER THEIR BREAK UP??

fan9: i used to pray for times like this

fan10: MY DIVORCED PARENTS ARE BACK

see more.

_

imessage:

you:

i fckg hate you bitch

how could you do this to me??

out of EVERYONE you picked lando??

ONLY TO NOT BE THERE FOR THE PODCAST??

yourbestie:

oops 🤪

no fr i totally forgot i was leaving for cabo

thank me later you’re reuniting with the love of your life

you:

BITCH

you’re the first name going on my suicide note

i’m not doing it

AND HES NOT THE LOVE OF MY LIFE

yourbestie:

stop being dramatic omg

you have to be professional

besides mike already confirmed him on the podcast and you doing it

you:

i’d rather bleach my eyes than do it

yourbestie:

it’s been YEARS y/n

btw you still call him in your sleep so maybe he didn’t forget you

why would he even say yes??

he’s totally into you

i can smell it

you:

says WHO

we broke up years ago and he got a lot of gfs after me

but it is weird that he said yes to the podcast when he knew i co-created it

yourbestie:

i told you

totally in love with you

_

liked by landonorris, yourbestie, tarayummy and 372 819 others.

y/n: 💋

_

yourbestie: you’re so fucking hot

liked by y/n.

fan1: MY QUEEN

fan2: pls invite charles leclerc for your podcast!

fan3: the prettiest podcast owner fr

fan4: your hand in marriage pls maam

fan5: i understand lando tbh i wouldn’t move on if i were him

fan6: pls get back with lando

fan7: she’s so pretty wtf

fan8: forget about lando i need her

fan9: can lando fight?

fan10: I LOVE YOU Y/N

see more.

landonorris just posted a story!

caption: cheers my friend 🥂

_

_

imessages.

yourbestie:

you sneaky bitch

"he’s not the love of my life 🤪🤪"

and literally goes to the restaurant with him

LIAR

you:

okay okay let me explain

HE invited me for the sake of old times and i said yes bc i was hungry

yourbestie:

hungry for his dick

you:

WTF NO

EW

as if you’d say no to a free meal in a fancy restaurant

yourbestie:

with your hottie ex bf? ofc i’d say no

(just bc he’s your ex, i would’ve said yes otherwise)

you:

SEE?

anyways i won’t see him ever again

yourbestie:

whatever helps you sleep at night pookie

_

ig message:

landonorris:

hi

i have some paddock pass for the japan gp, wanna come?

liked by landonorris, larray, monetmcmichael and 562 929 others.

y/n: blocked @.yourbestie for this

_

fan1: OMGGG ITS HAPPENING GUYS

fan2: I KNEW IT

fan3: pls not her blocking her friend bsjslslsl

fan4: how to be her

fan5: YESSSS MY PARENTS ARE BACK

fan6: let’s not jump into conclusions omg they could be friends!

landonorris: nah we’re not

y/n: LANDO

fan7: HOLY SHIRBZJSKLSLS

fan8: OMGGBZKSKSLLSLSLSLS

see more.

imessages:

lando:

can you follow me back now :( ?

[moondustbaby]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZP8MFxVsd/

hi! can you write something like the tiktok? i definitely could see bsf reader and bsf rafe at the beach and he’s carrying everything and ofc she still asks him to carrying her stuff and you can do whatever with the rest 👀

Spoiled Rotten

bsf!rafe x bsf!reader

when rafe said he’d carry everything for the beach, he didn’t realize that included your water bottle, your beach bag, and your entire princess complex.

⸻

You don’t even offer to help.

Not when he’s dragging the cooler from the back of the truck. Not when he slings the beach bag over one shoulder and hoists two fold-up chairs with the other. Not even when he wrestles with the umbrella, fighting the wind like it personally insulted his mother.

Rafe grumbles under his breath, bare feet sinking into the sand as he trudges toward your chosen spot by the water. And you’re behind him—sunglasses on, towel tucked under one arm, sipping from your Stanley like you’re not watching him break his spine for you.

He doesn’t complain, though.

He just sets everything down in a perfect little nest: umbrella tilted just right, towels laid out, cooler cracked open to let the ice breathe. He’s got a light sheen of sweat on his neck and his hair is already sticking to his forehead. And even then—even then—you call out:

“Ray.”

He pauses mid-crouch, halfway through unfolding a chair.

“Yeah?” He turns, squinting at you from under the brim of his backwards cap.

You’re holding out your pink Stanley cup like it weighs ten pounds.

“Can you hold this?” you pout. “I wanna take my shoes off and it’s heavy.”

There’s the tiniest twitch at the corner of his mouth. A bite of a grin he’s trying to hide. Because you’re ridiculous. Because you’re dramatic. Because he loves it.

He sighs, drops the chair, and walks back over with a martyred groan.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, plucking the cup from your hand like it’s made of glass. “Can’t believe I put up with you.”

“Mm, yes you can,” you hum sweetly, flashing him a smile as you kick off your sandals one by one.

“Unfortunately,” he says, but he’s still holding your cup and now your beach bag too, because apparently taking your shoes off meant handing him everything.

He follows you back to your spot like your personal pack mule, the beach bag sliding down his forearm, Stanley still in hand. He sets them down beside your chair with a dramatic plunk, then flops onto his towel beside you.

You glance over at him, propped on one elbow now, watching you with lazy amusement as you dig sunscreen out of the bag.

“Wanna do my back?”

“You gonna carry anything today?”

“Absolutely not.”

He huffs a laugh and reaches for the bottle.

“Figures.”

You lie on your stomach, adjusting your bikini top, and feel his hands smooth over your skin a second later—slow, careful, a little more thorough than necessary.

“Cold,” you whine when the lotion hits, squirming just a little.

“Baby,” he mocks, voice low, teasing. But he rubs it in slow, warm hands chasing goosebumps, and his touch lingers more than it should for best friends. You know it. He knows it. Neither of you say a word.

When he’s done, you roll onto your side, draping an arm over his stomach. His shirt’s still on, but you can feel the warmth of his skin underneath. Rafe leans back, both hands behind his head now, eyes shut under his sunglasses like he’s the one relaxing.

You poke at his ribs.

“Thanks for carrying everything.”

He peeks one eye open. “Everything and then some.”

You grin. “You love it.”

He pretends to think. “I tolerate it.”

“Liar.”

He turns his head and looks at you, really looks at you. Sunlight on your cheekbones, smile tugging at your lips, strands of hair fluttering in the ocean breeze. His girl. His pain in the ass. His whole damn heart.

“I really am a sucker for you, huh?” he mutters.

You kiss his shoulder in response.

He doesn’t say anything after that. Just slides a hand into yours, and lets the waves roll in.

a/n: yes yes yes rafe is a pack mule and a simp and i love that for him. if your man isn’t carrying six beach chairs, an umbrella, and your emotional baggage, what’s the point. thank you for this request angel!! 🫶🏻

♥️lani

masterlist

[tender-rosiey]

oh em gosh imagine gojo with an s/o who's basically as obsessed and in love with him as he is with us <33 and every1 is just like 😒ugh get a room

back and forth — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: equally being obsessed with each other>>> also check out @novelbear her prompts are out of their world! I used some of the dialogue prompts hehe

you would like to say that you’re immune to satoru’s charms, but then you would be a liar.

sometimes you, sure, can say no, but most of the time you indulge him. he uses his pretty face and even prettier words to get his way. it does reassure you that you have the same effect on him. actually, he can never say no to you.

he once sat with himself to think that maybe he is spoiling you, and he needs to stop, but then you entered the room beaming, smooching his face and asking to go to that one café that opened recently.

satoru’s original plan was to do the paperwork yaga has been yelling to him about, but how can he say no to you? so with a grin, he locked arms with you and the both of you skipped to the café.

so yeah, you’re both so down horrendous for each other and neither of you can deny it.

it’s terrible for everyone around you.

the way the both of you are screaming each other’s name from a mile away and running towards each other like you're in some romance movie. the hug is even more dramatic than the running, somehow.

the balant display of affection makes the students all roll their eyes.

one time, you called satoru from home and you had a call that lasted for an hour or so. eventually, you had to hang up since satoru had a class to teach. however, these goodbyes take even longer than the call itself.

“I love you, ‘toru!”

“I love you, my pretty angel!”

“I love you more, my lovely husband!”

“I love you even more, my divine wifey!”

and it continued like that forever. the students almost lost hope to get any education that day, but satoru finally said, “okay, pretty, I have to go now.”

they beam as they hear your voice replying with a sweet ‘okay!’, but they quickly deflated when satoru relaxed back and said, “but you have to hang up first.”

of course, what followed was a ‘no, you hang up first!’.

one and after another and nobara had enough before snatching satoru’s phone and instead speaking to you, “okay, y/n-sensei, we all love you, but we need this guy to teach us something so bye!”

satoru spent the entire day pouting.

another thing is how the both of you take pictures of the other while they are unaware. at first, you would think there is nothing wrong with it, and there isn’t.

but both of you love to fawn about the other in front of your students or friends.

satoru rambles with the most passionate and energetic fangirling ever to nanami, an audience that’s about to jump off a building, and you, who refuses to believe his beauty, ramble to shoko who’s about to finish 4 packs of cigarettes.

in general, satoru is a lot more brazen with his show of affection. for example, the way he shamelessly stares at you like he is memorizing your every feature.

sometimes, his hands wander to your face to gently caress it, then his lips follow, pressing a peck to every part of your face, drawing constellations of love. he then pulls back with a smile, “you’re really pretty, y’know?”

he always says what’s on his mind, and he is the type of lover to help you challenge your limits. he pays the people around him no mind as he pulls you in the rain with a grin, saying, “come on, dance with me!”

and you do your best. you’re both clumsy in your steps and you’re swaying more than dancing. satoru’s infinity is off and you’re both soaked.

still, satoru thinks you’ve never looked prettier, and you think his eyes never shone brighter.

there are times when words escape you before you think about them like that one time satoru was in a mini rush to go on a mission and forgot to give you a goodbye kiss. before he dashed out the door, you held him by the shirt and frowned, “my kiss?”

despite his blindfold, shock was evident on his face. he recovered quickly though. with a chuckle, he murmured a soft, “right sorry, wifey,” and kissed you passionately. he pulled back slightly, “am I forgiven?”

you nodded lightly and kissed his cheek, “yup; now go, mister strongest sorcerer.”

“I prefer my lovely husband, but that will do as well.”

he likes to tease you too. it’s in his nature, something he does with everyone he knows. of course, there is some teasing reserved especially for you.

satoru also loves hearing you sing his praises or verbalize your love for him. like that one time you were going on a mission and murmured an ‘I love you’ to his lips, but he quickly stopped you and said, “what did you say, pretty?”

you looked at him confused, “I said I love you,” you poke his cheek, “you heard me.”

he laughed, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to your neck, “I know; I just wanted you to say it again.”

you wanted to roll your eyes, but instead, you cupped his face, pulled him down, and started smothering him with kisses. you pressed a kiss to his cheek, “I love you,” then the other one, “I adore you,” his forehead, “I am infatuated with you,” his eyelids, “I can’t imagine a day without you.”

a big wide grin was plastered on satoru’s face and his cheeks were painted a very faint hue of red. you chuckled at his expression, “was that enough?”

he enveloped you in a big hug, resting his face on yours, “one more time, please?”

for you, you see satoru in a several things in your daily life. you see him in the blue sky above you. you see him in the glass of the bakery you pass by. you see him in the white cat that always walks by your side near the school.

you also hear him in the some of the songs you listen to, and you don’t hesitate to let him know.

one time when you were stargazing on the roofs of the school, playing your playlist since the time before it was satoru’s turn. a specific song started playing and it made you smile, before you spoke up, “y’know, satoru.”

he hums and you continue, “this song reminds me of you.”

you don’t hear a response, so you turn to look at him, “it’s actually one of my favori—satoru? satoru, are you tearing up?!” you laugh, leaning close to him, and he looks away.

“nope!”

behind closed doors, and with great distances separating the both of you, you never fail to call the other to feel their presence even through a phone. it’s practically a ritual for you and satoru to video call whenever one is out on a mission.

you can talk for hours and hours on end or relish in the silence, comforted by the fact that you can see each other.

satoru always insists on them, saying that he sleeps better when he see you. you share the same sentiment, so there’s no surprise that you both always fall asleep on call.

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @sonder-paradise @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[goldfades]

loving the uconn wbb manger fics bestie!! could you do one where she makes tiktoks with the girls?

𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐔𝐍𝐊 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄 ─ UCONN WBB MANAGER

౨ৎ ─ summary | water dunk questoons with kk, paige and manager during offseason!

─ word count | 736

─ warnings | light language, lots of teasing (mostly paige and kk), comments being funny af, nothin else

─ taglist | @xocherishxo @iienstein @yazmunson @euphternal @uraesthete @hello-nah817 @wanderlusturous and here's a link to my taglist if anyone would like to join!!

"HEY GUYS, IT'S your favorite trio," KK spoke enthusiastically as she waved dramatically.

"We're doing the water dunk trend and whoever gets the least points gets to buy dinner, yaya!" You explained with a grin as you took a seat in the chair in front of the water bucket, while Paige and KK sit behind you with a devilish smirk.

Paige grips your head as you send her a mock glare. "What's my birthday?"

You scoffed with a laugh. "This is light work, October 20, 2001."

"Damn it," Paige pretended to storm off as KK sends her a side glare.

KK chuckles as Paige dramatically storms off, then leans in closer to you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "What's my favorite class?"

"It's a trick question, you hate all your classes." You responded slowly as you watched KK's expression carefully. KK scoffeed dramatically as she walked away and sat in your seat.

Paige comes back into frame and then holds KK's head with a small snicker. "Uh... what's my favorite color?"

KK looked alarmed as her eyes widened at the camera, laughing nervously. KK's eyes dart around, trying to come up with an answer on the spot. "Uh... purple? No, wait, pink! No, uh..."

Paige didn't even give her time to process before she dunked her head in the bowl, causing a loud laugh from you as you shook your head.

KK emerges from the water bucket spluttering and laughing, her hair dripping wet as she shoots a playful glare at Paige. "Bro, you're a liar. You're so annoying."

"It's blue, are you dumb?" Paige mumbled as she walked off screen, KK bursts into laughter, shaking her head as she tries to regain her composure.

You walk behind her with a sympathetic smile as you send Paige a glare. "I'll go easy on you, what's my favorite food?"

"Pasta," KK answered quickly with a proud smirk as Paige groans off-camera. KK sends her a cackle as she gets out of the chair, Paige taking her place in front of the the bowl.

KK walked behind her as she rubbed her hands together schemingly, a smirk playing on her lips.KK leans in behind Paige, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Alright, Paige, let's see how well you know me. What's my favorite artist?"

"As in like... singers?" Paige clarified sending the camera a knowing smirk, as KK smirked. "Easy, Sexy Red."

"Wrong!" She dunked Paige's head roughly in the bowl as you bursted out in laughter, unable to hold it in as you watched Paige emerge from the water, laughing. "It's actually SZA."

"You're a damn liar," Paige glared toward KK as you clenched your stomach in laughter, shaking your head. You walked onto the frame and grabbed Paige's head as she sent you a smirk.

You hummed as you squinted, trying to think of a good question as Paige looked up at you. "Okay, okay. Um, what was my first pet that's still alive?"

KK looked confused as she looked at the camera and mouthed 'the fuck' as Paige laughed. "Easy, it's your chihuahua named Grace, she's like 20 years old."

You laughed out loud as Paige glanced at the camera smugly with a smirk. You let go of her head as she stuck out her tongue at you, KK rolling her eyes as she pushed her out the chair.

"How the heck do you know that, weirdo?" KK sent Paige a smirk she just shrugged. "This is the biggest Y/N fan right here."

Paige sent KK a glare. "I'm not a damn fan, I'm just a good friend."

KK raises an eyebrow, a teasing grin spreading across her face as she glances at the camera. "Sure, sure, whatever helps you sleep at night, Paige."

Paige scoffs, crossing her arms defiantly. "I am not! I just happen to pay attention to my friends, unlike some people."

You sent the girls a glare. "Can you guys stop arguing, you're giving me a headache. Anyway, who won?"

"Oh shit," Paige and KK exchanged looks as they burst out in laughter. "We forgot to keep score."

You groaned dramatically and pushed your head into your hands as Paige and KK kept laughing.

"Anyways guys, let us know who won in the comments cus we're dumb and forgot to keep score," KK gave the camera a thin-lipped smile as Paige kept laughing in the background. "K, bye guys."

──── COMMENTS

haley 💥 | i love y/n sm it's crazy 😭 ♡ 1.8k

urfavuconnluvr | there's no way y/n and paige aren't dating ♡ 120

↳ liz 🌻 | they can't look at each other without some saying this. the girls are just friends pls don't make this another rudy and madison situation

↳ hales :p | bro everyone has fucking dating rumors on the damn team, it's really not that serious... relax 😊

cameron! | y/n's facial expressions are so HILARIOUS i can't 😭 ♡ 1k

fav taurus 😶 | we need more kk, y/n and paige content pls!!!!!!!!!! ♡ 2.7k

↳ KK Arnold · creator | idk if i can do that, paige is getting on my nerves

↳ fav taurus 😶 | LMAOOOO KK PLEASE😭

💁🏻‍♀️💁🏻‍♀️ | wait does y/n have a gf ??????? ♡ 762

↳ becca 🙏🏽 | bro ain't no way 🤣

y/n's bitch 💛 | we need more edits of our queen y/n, please 😭 she's sooo hot ♡ 2k

↳ 😍😍 | just look up y/n edits theres so many 💀

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[synthetickitsune]

Jeonghan (SVT) | Heat fluff | 0.8k | gn!reader A/N: straight up not having a good time wtf are these temperatures

Whoever said that it’s easier to bear hardships when you’re sharing them with someone is a liar. 

The unnatural heat is already torturous to handle. You’re melting, most likely dehydrated with how much you sweat, and sleeping is impossible when it feels like you’re boiling alive. You’re grumpy, tired, and probably hungry too. Not like you have any appetite in this weather.

Not a good time, made worse by none other than your boyfriend.

Jeonghan huffs and groans in a way that makes it sound more like a whine. He’s thrown the blankets off the bed, he’d remove the pillows too if you didn’t promptly pull them to your side of the bed. He keeps squirming, tossing and turning. Honestly if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s on his deathbed writhing in agony instead of trying to nap.

“Hannie, just settle down,” you sigh, then you do it again when your boyfriend turns into a starfish and shoos you to the very edge of the bed.

“I can’t sleep at all,” he complains, his bleary eyes looking at you like you have a solution, “I can’t keep my eyes closed, I just keep thinking.”

You run a hand through his sweaty hair. Sleep usually came easily to him. When it doesn’t, well, he can always cuddle up to you for distraction. Unfortunately, the conditions today do not allow for prolonged physical contact.

“I’m sorry, maybe some music would help? ASMR?” you suggest, although you’re not hopeful. He shakes his head with a resigned - and dramatic - huff.

“Maybe,” he licks his lips, trailing off for a second before looking at you again, “Maybe if I was alone?”

His eyes seem dull in the dim light of the room, pleading and so so tired. It’s not the first time and it’s not gonna be the last time he asked you to leave the bedroom without saying it outright. 

“Of course, honey,” you hum, quickly pecking his forehead, “I’ll be around if you need me.”

“I always need you,” he murmurs.

You give up on sleep entirely after fifteen minutes of the same, if not worse, disgusting sleepless uncomfortableness in the spare bedroom and accept that nothing will help you now. Maybe if you went out for a walk to get some ice cream the apartment would feel less like an oven in comparison.

So that’s what you do. You can’t say it really helped, though. 

The apartment is still too hot, and now too quiet as well, so you hope Jeonghan at least is getting the rest he deserves.

You walk into the kitchen and are just putting the ice cream into the freezer, hoping to enjoy it when he wakes up, when you get the scare of your life. You’re bent over, making space for the box when suddenly a weight drops down on your back and you scream.

You almost headbutt the culprit, backing yourself against the freezer and the fridge as Jeonghan looks at you just as caught off guard and with a pout on his face.

“What the fuck,” you breathe out, hand over your chest, “Do you want me to die?”

“Where did you go? You told me you’ll be here if I need you,” he grumbles right back at you.

“And did you need me?” you quirk a brow at him.

“Yes!” he insists, pursuing his lips more, “You weren’t there when I needed you to tell me you’re not mad that I kicked you out of the bedroom and aren’t leaving me.”

You roll your eyes. “You know I’m not.”

“What if I didn’t know today,” he closes the distance between you, only enough that he can rest his forehead on your shoulder without your bodies touching.

“Should I go get you some sleeping pills? You’re so out of it,” you tease, rubbing his back for a few seconds.

“No but you can tell me you got my favorite,” he motions towards the still open freezer and box of ice cream barely balanced on top of the open shelf.

“Of course I did,” you reassure him and he finally lets you finish the task, “Did you get any sleep?”

“No, I felt bad because the other bedroom gets the most sunlight,” he gives you a small smile, “And then you went out and I felt worse.”

You coo at your boyfriend. He pulls you close, hugging you just for a short few seconds in which you manage to kiss his cheek.

“You’re so silly, you know I don’t mind. And it’s not like any room is better or worse right now,” you shrug. He doesn’t seem too convinced but nods anyway.

The only thing you can do, as much as you both hate it, is wait. Wait for the ice cream to freeze again. Wait for the cooler temperatures of the night. Nothing is really entertaining when clothes stick to your body and you’re both tired. 

But at least you can brave this hand in hand. Maybe that’s what it means to handle misery better with company.

[luvly-writer]

Basgaith: Charmed

Xden Riorson x Gamlyn! Reader

Masterlist

It was funny really, even adorable, how Xaden would lower his walls around Y/n. She was the only one to get to see the sweet, soft, and even playful parts of him. The parts he thought had been burried with his father at the Apostasy.

The gym was mostly quiet now, the late-afternoon sun filtering through the high windows, casting long streaks of gold across the mat. Y/n was cooling down by the water station, towel slung around her neck, when she heard a familiar voice call out.

“Hey, Gamlyn.”

She turned, unsurprised to see Xaden approaching—shirtless, of course—his black training pants hanging just low enough to be distracting, dark hair damp with sweat.

“You here to admire my form, or are you just stalking me now?”

Y/n raised an unimpressed brow. “You mean your ego? Yeah, it’s hard to miss.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He grinned, stepping into the light, the gleam of sweat on his chest making it criminally hard to look away. “If you’re going to ogle me, at least own it.”

Before she could retort, he turned dramatically, flexing his biceps with an exaggerated groan.

“Damn. Think I pulled something,” he muttered, clearly not serious. “Might need someone to check it out—right about here—” He pointed to the middle of his back, then shot her the most innocent look he could muster.

Y/n burst into laughter, completely unable to help it. “You’re ridiculous.”

Xaden didn’t move, staying in the pose. “C’mon, Gamlyn, be a good citizen. Help a wounded soldier.”

Still laughing, she walked up behind him and poked at his shoulder blade. “Oh yeah, very serious injury. Tragic.”

He flexed again under her fingers. “Better?”

She swatted his arm, giggling. “You’re the worst.”

He turned to face her then, eyes dancing with amusement, the grin on his face so unbearably smug and yet… gods, he looked good when he smiled like that. Not deadly. Not broody. Just him.

“Admit it,” he said, voice low and teasing. “You’re completely charmed.”

Y/n narrowed her eyes, grinning. “Not even a little bit.”

He winked. “Liar.”

And gods help her—he was probably right.

As Y/n stood there, still chuckling from Xaden’s antics, she didn't immediately notice the approach of Ridoc and Violet until they were already halfway into the gym.

Ridoc's eyebrows raised almost to his hairline when he saw Xaden standing there, flexing like a madman in front of Y/n, who was trying (and failing) to hide her laughter behind her hand. Ridoc shot Violet a look, the silent exchange between them speaking volumes.

Violet couldn't hold it in anymore, and her eyes flicked between the two of them. "Are you serious?" she whispered with a grin, nudging Ridoc.

Ridoc, always the more expressive twin, put a hand over his heart dramatically. "Oh, I’m so serious." He gestured to Xaden, who was still preening, his muscles bulging in all the right ways as Y/n beamed at him like she was the sun and he was just basking in her warmth. “I think I’m witnessing the birth of a new level of ridiculousness.”

Violet leaned back against the doorway, crossing her arms, her smirk as mischievous as Ridoc’s. “He’s not even trying to hide it anymore. It’s so obvious.”

Ridoc nodded slowly. “You see that? Xaden doesn’t flex for the squad. He doesn’t even flex when we’re out on missions. But for Y/n?” He watched Xaden, who was still holding his pose, eyes locked with Y/n's, completely unaware of the audience he’d gathered. “He’s just showing off.”

Violet rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her grin. “You mean he’s basically preening like a peacock for her? Because that’s what it looks like.”

Y/n, finally catching sight of them, froze for a second before looking back at Xaden, still giggling. “Okay, okay. That’s enough. You’re ridiculous.” But the way she was looking at him? Oh, she wasn’t fooling anyone.

Ridoc snorted. “Oh, she’s loving it. She’s absolutely loving it.”

Xaden, hearing the comment, snapped his head over his shoulder with an amused but slightly smug look. “Mind your business, you two.”

Y/n laughed harder, raising her hands in mock surrender. “I didn’t ask for this circus, I swear.”

Ridoc leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “Sure, you didn’t.”

Violet joined in with a sigh, her eyes glinting. “It’s cute though. I mean, who knew our brooding Wingleader was a show-off?”

Xaden groaned, looking entirely unbothered. “I’m not a show-off. You’re both terrible.”

Y/n, still caught in the moment, looked between them. “I’m just trying to survive here.” She glanced at Xaden, the smallest blush creeping on her cheeks.

Ridoc shook his head. “It’s so obvious.” He grinned. “Well, just let me know when you two decide to make it official. I might just start charging for the front-row seats to this drama.”

Violet raised a brow, completely entertained. “Oh, don’t worry. We’ll be sure to let you know when we’re tired of watching you both be adorable.”

Y/n flushed slightly, trying her hardest to look unaffected as she shot Xaden a side glance. But they both knew: this was the beginning of something they’d never admit out loud.

It was one of those rare afternoon where neither of them had to rush off for drills or briefings. The light filtering through the curtains was soft and golden, the room still wrapped in the warmth of sleep. Y/n lay curled into Xaden’s chest, her fingers absentmindedly toying with the charm bracelet on her wrist. The soft clink of metal caught his attention.

He shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow, watching her with gentle curiosity. “What’s that?” he asked, nodding to the bracelet as it glinted in the light.

She looked down and smiled. “It’s my charm bracelet. I add one for every important person or moment in my life.”

Xaden reached out, gently taking her wrist in his hand to examine the bracelet more closely. “Tell me about them.”

Y/n’s voice was sleepy-soft, but there was a light in her eyes. “That one’s a flower from my hometown. My dad gave it to me when I left for Basgiath.” She touched the tiny enamel blossom. “This one’s for Violet and Rhiannon—our first squad, our first mission together. I got it shaped like a star because they always say we’re a constellation, not a straight line.”

Xaden smiled at that, his thumb brushing lightly against her skin as she moved on.

“That one’s Ridoc, of course.” She chuckled, tapping a miniature gold mask. “Because he’s dramatic and ridiculous.”

Xaden huffed a quiet laugh.

“And this,” she said, eyes softening, “is Tiamat.” The dragon charm was sleek and elegant, with tiny etched wings. “She’s… part of me. My strength. My clarity.”

Xaden was quiet for a moment, looking at the bracelet like it held pieces of her soul. “You don’t have one for us,” he said lightly, not accusatory—just observant.

She blinked, then smiled a little sadly. “Not yet. I only add charms once something is... defined. Permanent.”

Xaden didn’t say anything, just nodded and pulled her closer again, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. But he was already thinking.

A few days later:

The courtyard buzzed as riders from all quadrants gathered after training, laughing and catching their breath. Y/n, wiping sweat off her brow and adjusting her gloves, was only half-listening to Rhiannon recount a dramatic mid-air spiral from earlier when a stranger approached.

He wasn’t from their squad—probably a second-year from Flame Section—and his swagger alone made Ridoc immediately pause mid-sentence. The guy leaned just a little too close to Y/n, flashing her a cocky grin.

"Hey, you were incredible out there," he said, eyes scanning her with open interest. "Fast, sharp—honestly impressive. Maybe we could spar sometime… or something less exhausting."

Y/n blinked, her polite smile thin. “Appreciate the compliment, but I’ll pass.”

The guy didn’t back off. Instead, he smirked, lowering his voice as he added, “You and Riorson aren’t official, so that makes you still in the market, right?” He winked and walked off like he hadn’t just tested fate.

Ridoc was on his feet instantly, fury flashing across his face. “I swear to Malek, I’ll—”

“Ridoc,” Rhiannon warned, grabbing his arm. “He’s not worth a write-up.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, cheeks flushed with irritation as much as embarrassment. “I handled it.”

“Barely,” Ridoc muttered, still glaring in the guy’s direction. “I don’t care if you’re not ‘official’—he doesn’t get to talk to you like that. Or breathe near you, frankly.”

She touched his arm, giving him a small smile. “Thank you, Ric. But really, I’m fine.”

Just then, Xaden passed by, having clearly caught the tail end of the interaction. His expression was unreadable—but his gaze lingered on Y/n, then flicked to the guy retreating in the distance.

Rhiannon and Violet exchanged a glance, already bracing for the storm.

Later that evening, the tension of the day melted away as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, casting amber light through the halls of Basgiath. Y/n walked beside Xaden, arms brushing, the silence between them easy—familiar. But her thoughts weren’t as calm.

She kept replaying that flirtatious encounter in her head. Not because of the guy—he was forgettable—but because of what he said. You and Riorson aren’t official… And the worst part? He wasn’t wrong.

They’d been on dates. Shared moments. Kissed. Danced in the rain. Cuddled until they fell asleep whispering stories. But still, there had never been a moment. No question. No label. No title.

"You are quiet today," Xaden said, glancing at her from the corner of his eye as they stepped out into the cool night air.

She gave a little shrug. “Just tired.”

He nodded, then suddenly paused. “About earlier…”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “With the guy who thinks I’m still on the market?”

He scoffed. “He’s lucky Ridoc didn’t take his head off.”

“And you?” she asked, teasing lightly, nudging him with her shoulder. “What would you have done?”

Xaden stopped walking. “I don’t need to do anything.” He turned to face her, voice low and steady. “You’re mine.”

The words weren’t possessive. They were protective. Grounded. Like a promise.

Y/n’s heart stuttered, and she blinked up at him. A nervous laugh escaped her lips. “Well, that’s bold.”

He smirked, stepping closer, eyes dancing. “Not denying it, though.”

She rolled her eyes, cheeks flushed. “You’re infuriating.”

“And yet you keep choosing me.”

“I do,” she admitted softly, and that was the truth.

They kept walking, but her mind raced.

If he sees me as his… then why hasn’t he asked? Why hasn’t he made it official? The question ached at the back of her throat, but she swallowed it down. She didn’t want to ruin the moment. Didn’t want to seem needy. Didn’t want to get hurt.

And Amari, did she wish that was enough.

The day after...

Y/n had been on her way to meet Xaden in the common area, hair still damp from her shower, braid hanging loosely over her shoulder, when she heard laughter echoing down the corridor.

Curious, she slowed her pace—until she spotted them.

Xaden and Imogen stood near the library arch, the flickering lantern light casting warm shadows over them. They were close—too close. Not inappropriately so, but close enough that Y/n felt something stir in her chest.

Imogen elbowed him, clearly teasing. “I’m not the one playing boyfriend without sealing the deal, Riorson.”

He rolled his eyes. “We both know you’re too busy watching Garrick trip over his own feet when you walk into a room.”

“Deflect all you want,” Imogen grinned. “But you’ve got it bad. It’s cute. And tragic. You think acting like a territorial dragon makes it official.”

Xaden was smirking but before he could answer, Y/n turned away. She hadn’t heard the full conversation—just enough to mistake it.

You’ve got it bad. Acting like a boyfriend. Not sealing the deal.

Her heart sank. So it’s not real, her thoughts whispered. He knows it. They all know it. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t asked. Maybe she was just convenient. Someone soft he could lean on in stolen moments between briefings and squad drills.

Without a word, she turned and walked the other way. She found Violet and Rhiannon near the strategy room, half-laughing at something Rhiannon had said.

“Can we talk?” Y/n’s voice cracked a little.

Both girls exchanged looks and followed her immediately, no questions asked.

A few minutes later, they were in Violet’s room, the door shut and the lanterns dimmed low.

“I think I messed up,” Y/n said quietly, curling her legs beneath her on the bed.

Rhiannon sat beside her. “What happened?”

“I saw Xaden with Imogen. They were… laughing. Close. She was teasing him about our relationship—and he didn’t deny it wasn’t real. He just… smiled. Like it was a joke.” Her voice broke. “What if I’m just someone he enjoys spending time with? Someone easy. But not someone he sees as his?”

Violet placed a hand on her knee. “Y/n—”

“I know I sound ridiculous. I just… we’ve danced in the rain, we’ve kissed, I’ve given him chocolate cake and he’s brought me nail polish—but he hasn’t asked me. Not once. And maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to.”

Rhiannon frowned. “Or maybe he thinks you don’t need him to.”

Y/n blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You’re strong, Y/n. Brilliant. Beautiful. You command rooms and hold your own in battle. Xaden… he’s powerful, but emotionally? He’s still learning how to let people in. He probably thinks actions are louder than words.”

Violet nodded. “But that doesn’t mean your feelings aren’t valid. If this is something you need… then it’s okay to ask for it.”

Y/n stared down at her hands. “But what if he says no?”

“Then he’s an idiot,” Rhiannon said simply. “But he won’t.”

That same night...

It was past curfew when Xaden made his way down the dim corridor toward the common kitchens, a couple of warm rolls tucked into the crook of his arm, stolen from the mess hall with minimal guilt. He reached Y/n’s room and tapped softly on the door.

When she opened it, she was already in her sleep shirt and shorts, her eyes wide with surprise.

“Xaden?” she asked, voice hushed but curious.

He lifted a brow. “You didn’t eat much at dinner. I figured I’d bribe you into a midnight snack.”

A soft smile bloomed on her lips—small, but there. “You’re bribing me with bread?”

“It’s warm,” he said with a smirk. “And I’m charming.”

She stepped aside to let him in. “I’ll give you the warm bread.”

He took his usual spot near the window seat as she curled up beside him, accepting one of the rolls. For a few minutes, they sat in a comfortable silence, sharing food and occasional comments about how Garrick still couldn’t boil water properly without setting something on fire.

But Xaden kept glancing at her.

Her laugh wasn’t as easy tonight. Her smile a little too polite. She hadn’t made fun of his bed hair once, or asked about Sgaeyl.

He shifted slightly, his voice gentler now. “What’s wrong?”

Y/n blinked. “What?”

“You’re being quiet. Not in your usual ‘plotting world domination with Rhiannon’ way.” His eyes searched hers. “Did something happen?”

She shook her head quickly, tucking her knees tighter to her chest. “No, it’s nothing. I’m just tired.”

He frowned. “Y/n.”

Her heart stuttered at the way he said her name—low and concerned, like she was something he couldn’t bear to see dimmed.

But she forced a smile and shrugged. “Really. You don’t have to worry.”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, gaze never leaving her face. “I always worry. I care about you.”

That nearly broke her. Then why won’t you ask?

But the words stayed trapped in her throat. She couldn’t say it. Not when the truth might break her a little more.

So instead, she nodded. “Thanks for the bread.”

He watched her for a moment longer, clearly sensing the wall she’d carefully put up. Then, in a move so unlike the usually restrained Wingleader, he reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Next time something’s bothering you… I want to know. Even if you think it’s silly.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper. “What if it’s not silly to me, but it is to you?”

“Then I’ll listen until I understand why it matters to you.”

And just like that, her defenses cracked, just a little. She gave a small nod, biting her lip.

“Okay.”

He leaned closer, brushed his lips gently to her temple, and whispered, “I’m not going anywhere, Y/n.”

After he had left to his room, Y/n couldn't go back to sleep. The next day, she had asked Violet to meet her after hours wanting to rant to her friend.

The moonlight spilled through the arched windows of the library’s upper floor, long abandoned at this hour except for the two girls curled up between dusty shelves. Violet sat cross-legged, flipping lazily through a book she wasn't reading, while Y/n stared at the flickering candle between them.

Y/n hadn’t said much when she’d asked Violet to meet her. She didn’t need to. Violet had seen her eyes earlier—too bright, too heavy.

“I know it’s stupid,” Y/n finally whispered, breaking the silence.

Violet looked up, closing the book. “It’s not stupid if it’s making you feel like this.”

Yln pressed her lips together, eyes dropping to her hands. “I keep wondering… what if the reason he hasn’t asked me to be his girlfriend is because he just doesn’t want to?”

Violet’s expression softened instantly. “Y/n—”

“No, listen,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “He’s good to me. So good. But every time I think he’s going to say something, he doesn’t. And maybe he just… likes what we have, without anything more.” She fiddled with the thread of her sleeve, voice trembling. “And if I bring it up… I’m scared he’ll only ask because he thinks he has to. Because I’m hurt or because he doesn’t want to lose me. Not because he truly wants that next step.”

Violet’s heart clenched. She scooted closer and gently took her hand.

“Y/n… I’ve seen the way he looks at you. We all have. That’s not a guy who’s keeping things casual. That’s a guy who’s trying not to mess up the best thing that’s ever happened to him.”

Y/n blinked, tears building in the corners of her eyes.

Violet squeezed her fingers. “But I also know what it feels like to want them to choose it. To say it first. Because it means they were sure. I get that. It’s not silly. It’s human.”

Y/n nodded slowly, her voice a whisper. “I just need to know it’s real. That I’m not imagining how much he cares.”

“You’re not. But it’s okay to want to hear it from him.”

The wind brushed gently over the high ridge overlooking the valley below, the stars shimmering above like whispered secrets. Xaden stood at the edge of the overlook, arms crossed, the shadow of Sgaeyl stretching long behind him in the moonlight.

Tairn had nudged him through the bond not ten minutes ago with a simple “She’s asking for you.” And when Violet asked, Xaden never made her wait.

She appeared a second later, stepping up beside him. Her arms were folded too, a subtle mirror of his stance, but her expression held none of its usual mischief. She looked… thoughtful. Sharp-eyed.

They stood in silence for a moment, letting the wind speak first.

“You didn’t ask me here just to enjoy the view,” Xaden said at last, tone even.

Violet exhaled slowly. “No. I didn’t.”

He glanced at her. “Did something happen?”

She tilted her head. “Nothing she told me to bring up.”

“But something did happen,” he said, brows drawing slightly together. “She said something to you.”

Violet didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she studied the stars for a moment longer before speaking again. “I’m not going to break her confidence. But I am going to say this: if you keep waiting for the perfect moment, you’re going to miss a really, really good thing.”

His jaw tightened, his gaze shifting toward the horizon.

“She’s not going to wait around forever, Xaden. And even if she does… she shouldn’t have to wonder. Not with you.” Violet turned to face him fully now. “If you want her, say it. Show her. Because you want it. Not because something forced your hand.”

He let the silence stretch again, his posture unreadable—but his fingers twitched slightly at his side.

“You’re right,” he said finally, voice low. “I don’t want perfect. I want her.”

Violet gave a small, knowing smile as she walked away. “Then go get her, you dumb shadow.”

The stars were still gleaming high above when Violet left him alone on the ridge, but Xaden barely noticed them anymore.

“I want her.”

He’d said it aloud. Not just to Violet, not just to the stars. But to himself.

And it was terrifying.

Not because he didn’t mean it—but because he meant it too much.

He raked a hand through his hair and let out a breath that was closer to a laugh. Sgaeyl stirred nearby, her voice cutting through his thoughts like the scrape of steel.

“You’ve chosen your mate. Stop circling her like prey and tell her.”

“She’s not prey,” he muttered.

“Then stop acting like a predator and speak to her like a partner.”

That stung a little. Because Sgaeyl was right.

He hadn’t asked Y/n yet, not because he didn’t want her, but because some part of him—some bruised, scarred, cynical part—kept whispering that someone like her didn’t belong in the chaos of his life.

But she was in it. With her laughter, her stubbornness, the way she looked at him like she saw every darkness inside him and chose to stay anyway.

He thought of her running through the rain with him, soaked and laughing.

Of her showing up to formation in silk pajamas and a sleepy pout.

Of the little chocolate cake she gave him without a word, and how her eyes had sparkled when he handed her the nail polish in Sgaeyl’s color.

He was in deep.

And he wanted deeper.

He wasn’t going to let his silence be the reason she ever doubted his feelings again.

Xaden turned on his heel, heart pounding with unfamiliar nervousness and determined intent. He knew exactly how he was going to ask her.

No distractions. No teasing.

Just her and him.

No dragons, no squads.

No titles. No shadows.

Just truth.

And he hoped like hell she’d say yes.

Author’s note: Not me posting like 5-6 chapters a day cause i want to have EVERYTHING OUT ALREADY!!! It is a long series and I really want to post it completely without overwhelming everyone lmao. I want to finally have it published and read and enjoy it like everyone else. Having said that, to find ALL chapters if you ever get lost in my profile, go to the #’s and you’ll see one for Of Light and Shadow. There you can find them easily <3

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