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smileysuh · 15 days ago

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that's awkward

🌙 starring. Jeon Wonwoo x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. Wonwoo wears glasses, but he’s not blind. He knows you’re a very gorgeous girl, and you’re sweet and smart to top it all off. He’s used to restricting himself, not allowing visions of you in compromising situations to pass through his mind’s eye, although this image is strictly medical, and he knows it shouldn’t stir something inside of him, but it does anyway, and a wave of shame passes over him as a result.

tw/cw. Protected sex, lots of talk about birth control/IUD’s in specific, awkward warning, fingering, praise, dirty talk, Wonwoo’s a touch pervy, dry humping, grinding, foreplay, multiple reader orgasms, orgasming together, breast/body worship, etc…

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 6.7k

🍭 aus. Best friends to lovers, nurse!Wonwoo, roommates au, crack/comedy, realism, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I’m not going to lie, this one is awkward comedy crack realism. I thought it would be funny to touch base on birth control, and some of the weird things that happen with IUDs. while birth control is often mentioned in passing in fic, I’ve never seen an in depth thing about it, or a fic with a plot centered around an IUD gone rogue lol. I love awkward nurse bestie Wonwoo, and I hope you do too!

Prologue:

“You look tense,” Wonwoo, your best friend, notes as you sit down with him in the library. “What was that phone call about?”

“It was my roommate Sumi,” you sigh. “She’s decided to move in with her boyfriend, and now I don’t know how I’m going to afford the apartment.”

The nursing major pushes his glasses back up his nose, studying you in the quizical way he’s been studying everyone since you were children. “So what are you thinking?”

“I don’t know. Give up the lease? Move out of my dream apartment on campus and go live with my parents, deal with the two-hour commute-” Even thinking about it is making your heart race with anxiety, and you let out a huff, putting your head down on the table.

“There are other options,” Wonwoo points out.

“Like what?”

“Find another roommate.”

“Sumi was enough of a mess to live with, and she’s been my friend since I met her at the welcome-to-university day last year. Where am I going to find a nice, quiet roommate, who doesn’t bring her boyfriend over to bang every night or want to throw parties or leave the kitchen a mess-”

Wonwoo chuckles, leaning back in his chair as he watches your meltdown.

“If it’s not weird, I could move in with you,” he offers once your rant ends.

You stare at him.

Wonwoo’s been your best friend since grade school, and although the two of you are super close, you’d never considered a coed living situation with him. You know he’s a clean freak with a hint of ocd, it’s part of the reason he’s doing so well with his nursing classes- but, could you really live with him?

You’ve always found Wonwoo to be attractive, well, the attraction had grown in high school when the thin sweetheart had grown out a bit, his shoulders broadening and his baby fat disappearing with frequent stints at the gym.

“Would you really do that?” you ask. “Move in with me?”

Wonwoo shrugs. “My lease is up on my one-bedroom. Your place is actually on campus, so I wouldn’t have to commute thirty minutes to and from school. We’re comfortable with each other, and we’ve been friends long enough to sort out any roommate growing pains. I think it could work out.”

He’s always so reasonable, so logical, and staring at this man, you realize he’s found the perfect solution to your problem, just as he always does.

“You know what, Wonwoo?” You let out a breath and find yourself smiling. “Let’s be roommates.”

One:

Before you’d moved in with Wonwoo, you two had been extremely close, but after a year and a half of living together, the only way you could be closer is if he was literally inside of you and fucking your brains out every day.

It’s because of this closeness, as well as his major, that you go to him when you begin to have stomach aches that persist for two weeks.

The nurse-to-be is sitting in the living room, reading through a textbook with a notepad to jot on when you approach.

“Hey, I’ve got a question for you,” you say, taking a seat next to him.

“What’s up?” he asks, immediately putting his studies to the side to focus on you.

“I’ve been having these stomach aches,” you sigh.

“Has your diet or water intake changed recently?”

“No.”

“So you’re eating properly and not resorting to a one hundred percent ramen-based diet like you did last final season?”

You laugh, pushing his knee. “No, I’m being good, I promise!”

He studies you carefully. “What kind of stomach pain?”

“Sometimes it’s sharp, and sometimes it’s like a dull ache.”

“Show me the location?”

Releasing a sigh, you bring your hand to your lower abdomen. “It’s kind of around here.”

Wonwoo looks down at the spot you’re indicating, then back up to you. “When was your last period?”

“Like… two weeks ago?”

“So you’re not due for one, which means it’s not period pains.”

“I know period pains,” you assure him, “and this is different.”

“Would you say it’s in a similar location to your usual period pains?”

You know his line of questioning immediately, and you let out a scoff. “I’m not pregnant, Wonwoo. We both know this is a celibate apartment since we’re married to our studies, and besides, I have an IUD.”

Wonwoo nods, and you can see the wheels in his mind turning. “How long have you had the IUD?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, a couple of years? Why is that relevant?”

“Well, I don’t know much about birth control, but I do know that sometimes IUDs or other birth control implants can… shift.”

Shift.

The word sounds so ominous, and you can’t help the mortified expression that crosses your face. “My IUD hasn’t shifted,” you insist. “That can’t be what’s happening.”

Wonwoo shrugs. “If you say so.”

Your mouth feels dry, and the idea that the tiny foreign birth control object inside of you has shifted makes you feel nauseous, so you’re impatient to change the subject.

“I’m sure it’s just anxiety or something,” you tell him, letting out a deep breath.

“Keep an eye on it, and let me know if the stomach pain persists. If you need me to take you to the on-campus hospital, I’m sure they’d figure it out for you. Give an ultrasound if they think it’s IUD-related, or offer alternative possibilities.”

“I appreciate that, but I’m sure it’s nothing,” you insist. For someone who’s best friends with a nurse, you don’t like hospitals very much, and getting the IUD inserted had been a traumatic enough experience to deter you from anything gynecological until the timeline on your implant has ended. You’ve got a couple of years until you’ll need to get the bugger taken out, and nothing is going to inspire you to go check on it, especially not a recurring stomach ache.

Two:

Wonwoo’s walking to a seminar with his classmate Yeji when you pop into his mind. It’s been a couple of days since you told him about your stomach aches, and he wants a female perspective on it.

He’s heard horror stories about IUDs and other forms of birth control, but Wonwoo’s man enough to admit he doesn’t know enough about the subject.

“Hey, Yeji?” Wonwoo asks.

“What’s up?” she responds, not looking up from her phone, where she’s looking over notes to prep for the seminar.

“So my roommate mentioned she’s been having cramps for a while-”

“Is she eating and drinking water okay?”

“Yeah, she’s good.”

“How about alcohol?”

“Neither of us are big drinkers,” Wonwoo admits.

“Okay, what about her period?”

Wonwoo loves how Yeji is asking all the questions he’d asked, it’s a sign he was doing the right line of enquiry. Wonwoo respects his classmate, and to know they have the same thought process is encouraging.

“She’s not due for it yet, not for another week or two.”

“Is she on birth control?”

“An IUD.”

Yeji looks up from her phone, and there’s a knowing twinkle in her eye, making Wonwoo chuckle.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I think we’re thinking the same thing.”

“It’s probably an IUD-related issue,” Yeji confirms. “Was the pain in her lower abdomen?”

“Uh huh.”

“Kind of like an ache, but sometimes sharp feelings too?”

“Yeah.”

“She has to check for her strings,” Yeji deduces.

There’s an immediate rush of embarrassment and heat to Wonwoo’s ears, and his voice cracks when he repeats, “Check for her strings?”

“You know, reach up in there and see if she can feel them. That’s a good way to see if the IUD is in place without needing an ultrasound or a trip to the hospital.”

Wonwoo swallows thickly. He’s a nurse, and physical things like this shouldn’t affect him so much, but there’s something about the notion of you checking for your own strings-

Wonwoo wears glasses, but he’s not blind. He knows you’re a very gorgeous girl, and you’re sweet and smart to top it all off. He’s used to restricting himself, not allowing visions of you in compromising situations to pass through his mind’s eye, although this image is strictly medical, and he knows it shouldn’t stir something inside of him, but it does anyway, and a wave of shame passes over him as a result.

“I’ll uh,” Wonwoo coughs, “I’ll pass on the message to her.”

“It’s good to check your strings frequently,” Yeji continues, completely oblivious to Wonwoo’s discomfort. “If she has any sexual partners-”

“She’s single,” Wonwoo interjects, unable to help himself.

“Well, IUDs can be knocked out of place even without something poking at them, so you never know,” Yeji shrugs.

God, Wonwoo had known there would be challenges that came with living with a member of the opposite sex, but he’d never imagined having to discuss female anatomy, birth control, and the checking of IUD strings.

Three:

You’re sweating.

One foot is up on the bathtub, the other firmly on the ground, and you’re bent at an odd angle trying to reach inside of yourself to find some stupid IUD strings.

Wonwoo had come home and shyly told you that there’s an at-home way to check for IUD shifting, and you’d been less than enthusiastic about it- but more enthused about the idea of checking yourself than going to a clinic and having someone else do it for you.

This whole thing is awkward, and try as you might, you simply can’t feel any strings inside of you.

With a sigh of annoyance, you pull your fingers away, removing your foot from the tub so you can wash your hands.

Your heart is racing, panic and anxiety setting in- if the strings aren’t there, that means the IUD is misplaced, which means a gyno visit, which might actually be the end of the world for you right now.

You’re not ready to accept that fate, and desperate times call for desperate measures.

“Wonwoo?” you call, finding your best friend in the living room.

He looks as nervous as you feel, which is a foreign emotion on the generally stoic man’s face.

“Did you find them?” he asks.

You shake your head.

“Well, what if we go to an urgent care clinic? Or set up an appointment with your doctor?” he suggests.

“My doctor is a man, and the clinics might have a male doctor, and they’d probably want to check on the spot without sending a referral to the place that put the IUD in, and- Well,” you can feel tears burning in your eyes, “I really don’t have the mental capacity to have a man I don’t know looking up inside me right now-”

“I could call Yeji-”

“I don’t even know Yeji,” you groan. “This whole thing is so fucking awkward.”

“So.. what are you going to do?”

“I hate to ask this…” correction, you can’t believe you’re about to ask this, “but… could you maybe… would you, uh… do you maybe want to help me check for the strings?”

Wonwoo simply stares at you.

“Please?”

He swallows thickly. “I’ll go get some surgical gloves.”

You’re doing this, and you’ve just got to suck it up. As awkward as the idea is of your childhood best friend fingering you to find some fucking IUD strings is, the notion of some random man at a hospital doing it is even worse.

While Wonwoo is getting gloves, you go to your room to change into a dress. That way, you’ll be covered, but there will still be easy access.

Once you’re dressed, you head to the bathroom, where you find Wonwoo waiting. There’s a bottle of lube on the sink, and it’s clear he’s slicked up his gloved fingers in preparation.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to a walk-in?” he asks, and you can tell from the pink of his ears that he’s as awkward about this as you are.

“Wonwoo, you’re just going to close your eyes, put your fingers into something, and see if strings poke you,” you tell him, letting out a deep breath. “It will be simple.” You’re trying to convince yourself, but it’s not working.

Now it’s Wonwoo’s turn to sigh. He kneels down on the floor, then actually closes his eyes.

“Can you guide my hand?” he asks.

“Yeah.” You swallow a lump in your throat, reaching to grab his wrist. Slowly, you bring his fingers between your thighs. “It’s uh, right here.”

The first contact of Wonwoo’s gloved digits on your core has you jolting, and your skin immediately heats with embarrassment.

“After this one, remind me to never get another IUD,” you groan.

“There are other methods,” he muses, his fingers gently slipping into you with aid from the lube.

“I don’t want pills or an implant, or a shot, or one of those diva cup ring things,” you insist.

“Condoms are pretty dependable.”

“Yeah, if a man actually wants to wear one. Most guys are such crybabies about a bit of rubber that they’d rather put their girlfriend through humiliation of IUD insertion, or the trauma of pills that fuck up your emotions and body-”

You’re so busy ranting that you almost don’t notice Wonwoo’s fingers pushing deeper, but then he begins searching around, and he accidentally makes contact with your G-spot, which immediately makes you choke on your words.

“Sorry,” Wonwoo says softly. “Uh, tell me more about bad birth control?”

“Yeah, uh…” God, you can feel yourself sweating, and you can’t bring yourself to look down at Wonwoo, so you close your eyes, tilting your head back to focus on your female rage rather than your hot best friend inspecting your pussy for IUD strings. “The fact that men get sedation or whatever for vasectomies but women still have to get this shit inserted with no local anasthesia or anything, it’s barbaric and misogynistic, not to mention anti-woman.”

“That definitely sounds like a double standard,” Wonwoo agrees.

“If men had to endure the pain we do for an IUD male equivalent procedure, they’d for sure get full sedation and pain meds,” you declare.

“You’re probably right about that.”

“Wonwoo?”

“Yeah?”

“Please tell me you can feel the fucking strings.”

“No luck, yet. Sorry.”

You groan. “You uh… feel pretty deep in there.”

“I’ve got long fingers.”

“Yeah, that’s why I wanted you to do this.”

“If I’m being honest, I think we should call it. I can’t find any strings.”

“Just…” You swallow the lump in your throat. “One more minute.”

“If you say so.”

A bead of sweat rolls down your neck, your heart racing in your chest.

Please find the strings. Please for the love of God-

“Wait, I think something just poked me!” Wonwoo tells you, and your eyes flash open.

“Is it the strings!?”

He pushes his fingers just a touch deeper, and after a moment, Wonwoo nods. “I think it’s the strings!”

“Thank God!” you practically scream.

In response, Wonwoo tears his hand away from you, and you immediately cover yourself with your dress again.

Your best friend opens his eyes and looks up at you. “We found the strings, but I still think you should get a referral for a minimally invasive ultrasound just to make sure it’s in place where it should be.”

“Wonwoo, we’re going to celebrate the small wins,” you tell him. “And we are also never going to speak of this ever again to anyone, do you understand?”

He nods solemnly. “I have zero memory of anything that just took place.”

“Good boy.”

Four:

As someone who’s entering the medical field, Wonwoo knows he’s not supposed to feel weird about the human body.

After all, a body is just a body.

But… there’s something about the fact that he was just up and close with your body, and he feels ashamed that the whole situation is affecting him the way it is.

There shouldn’t be anything sexy about stomach aches and possible misplaced IUDs, and yet… Wonwoo feels flushed every time he thinks about it.

You’ve been best friends since you were both children, but it’s a far reach to say that Wonwoo has ever seen you as a sister. The two of you had been inseparable for your younger years, and when you’d both hit puberty, the dynamic had shifted somewhat.

Sure, you’ve both had significant others, and been supportive of each other in everything- but… Wonwoo can’t pretend he’s not attracted to you.

It’s something he’s always been able to push to the side, after all, he’d never jeopardize your connection for the chance of getting his rocks off. He’s not that kind of man, which is why this whole IUD situation has put him in such an uncomfortable position.

It’s been two days since he checked your strings, and things have felt different. The two of you don’t know how to be around each other now, and that’s evident by the way you both stutter and give each other a wide berth in the kitchen at dinner time.

Wonwoo can feel his skin getting warm as he steps back to give you space to move to the fridge, and he swallows the lump in his throat, uncomfortably adjusting his glasses.

“I feel like maybe we both need a drink,” you say with a deep sigh.

The two of you are not big on alcohol, but there’s a mixed spirit drink bottle in the top cupboard for extreme situations, and this definitely feels like the right time for it.

Wonwoo helps you pour the liquid into two large glasses, and with an awkward smile, you clink your cup to his own before taking a sip.

“Let’s watch something,” you suggest next, and the two of you go to the living room.

You’re both interested in Netflix documentaries, and you find one that looks interesting. It’s something to get your mind off of things, but as Wonwoo continues to drink, his thoughts start to wander.

As a non-drinker, Wonwoo’s tolerance is substantially lower than he’d like it to be, and he can feel his skin heating. His mind feels fuzzy now, and his gaze keeps slipping over to you.

The two of you can’t live this way.

You just can’t.

Things can’t be this awkward forever, and if there was ever a time to tell you he’s into you as more than a friend, it would be now.

One episode of the documentary finishes, and as the screen cuts to credits, Wonwoo lets out an extremely deep breath.

“I need to tell you something,” he states.

“God.” You immediately hide your face, nearly knocking over your drink in the process. “What is it?”

“I don’t want things to be awkward between us because I had to help you find your IUD strings,” Wonwoo says first.

“Well, there’s not much we can do about it, can we?”

“I like you.”

“Huh?” You look over at him with confusion.

“This might make it more awkward if you don’t feel the same way,” Wonwoo admits, his mouth getting dry. “But… I like you a lot, and… helping you with that whole thing… well, it doesn’t make me see you any differently. In fact, uh… maybe kind of the opposite.”

Wonwoo can’t believe the words coming out of his own mouth.

Did he just admit that being gloved and two fingers deep in your pussy made him even more into you?

Yes. Yes, he did.

“I think maybe it’s time for bed,” you tell him, and his heart sinks in his chest.

“Okay. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, we can talk about it in the morning.”

The two of you stand up after turning the TV off, and Wonwoo doesn’t even know if he should look at you.

Then, surprisingly, you step forward, cupping his face and pressing your lips to his cheek. “Get some sleep,” you tell him.

He stands there in shock as you head to your room, offering him an awkward smile as you close the door behind you.

Wonwoo continues to just exist blankly, unmoving in the living room for a solid five minutes before he’s able to shake himself out of things.

He doesn’t know what the future might bring, but the future is best brought sober.

Five:

You’re sitting in the kitchen when Wonwoo comes out of his room.

Neither of you have classes today, and you’re kind of happy about that, because Wonwoo looks disheveled in a way you’ve never seen him look before.

His glasses are askew, his hair is a curly mess, his eyes have bags under them like he’s hardly slept-

“You okay?” you ask immediately.

Wonwoo lets out a deep breath. “Sorry about last night. I said some things I shouldn’t have, and I probably hurt our friendship-”

“It’s fine,” you assure him.

“No, it’s not. I stepped over a boundary-”

“Wonwoo,” you say his name firmly, grabbing his attention. “You didn’t mess things up. You told me you like me, and I wanted to say it back, but you were drunk, and I thought it would be best to tell you when you were sober, or at least… hungover or something.”

Wonwoo blinks at you. His lips part, but he’s not able to speak for a few moments. “You like me too?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“Like… as more than a friend?”

“I mean, you and I have been inseparable since we were kids. I’ve always had a crush on you, Wonwoo, but I pushed it aside for our friendship.”

“So did I.”

“Who knew all it would take was an IUD and a very awkward situation of trying to find us for us to admit this sort of thing?” You let out a small laugh, and Wonwoo joins in with you, which eases your anxieties.

“So…” He swallows thickly. “What now?”

“We could just watch movies and hang out today, you know, like a lazy Sunday date.”

“But we watch movies and hang out all the time, shouldn’t I… I don’t know, take you out for brunch or something?” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Well, I was thinking, while watching our show, we could cuddle, which isn’t something we’ve ever done.”

“I think I would like that,” Wonwoo admits.

“How about you go find us a new show, and I’ll make you some ramen. It looks like you need some food.”

Wonwoo nods, moving to the living room while you get water boiling for the noodles.

You’re trying to hide it, but you feel jittery. At the same time, the awkward atmosphere has shifted. Things feel a touch back to normal, but amplified in a way. No longer are you just making food for your roommate; you’re making food for a man who likes you the way you like him.

Suddenly, things feel domestic in a way they’ve never felt before, and that sensation brings you joy as you prepare the ramen and join Wonwoo in the living room.

The two of you agree on a show, and in the first fifteen minutes, Wonwoo slowly eats and sips on water.

Once he’s finished, he sets the bowl to the side.

“So… do you want to move closer?” he asks.

Your heart is racing as you snuggle up to his side, and Wonwoo’s arm goes around you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You release a deep sigh, already very comfortable, and it’s in this position that you spend most of the day.

The whole documentary miniseries you’re watching comes to a conclusion, and you shift. You sit back up to stretch, and Wonwoo watches you.

When you let out a sigh and allow your arms to rest by your sides again, Wonwoo finally asks, “Can I kiss you?”

Your heart lurches into your throat, and you swallow it back down.

“Yeah.”

He leans forward, and you mirror the motion.

You stare at your best friend, admiring all the little things about his handsome face.

He cups your cheek, thumb stroking your skin.

The moment feels suspended in time. It feels fast, yet slow, all at once, and then, Wonwoo closes the distance.

His mouth meets yours, hesitantly at first, but when you lean forward, grabbing his shoulders, he relaxes a little.

Neither of you are dreaming this up; it’s real.

You’re kissing your best friend, and fuck, it feels so good.

You love how gentle Wonwoo is, how it’s not immediate intensity. He’s soft, and his motions are tentative, as if he’s trying to figure you out.

Meanwhile, a need is growing inside of you, so you’re the one to take things to the next step. You open your mouth, licking Wonwoo’s lip, and he mirrors you.

A soft moan escapes you, and you shift closer, wanting to be pressed to him, wanting to feel his heart as it races alongside your own.

Things are getting heated fast, and soon, you’re crawling on top of him, straddling his hips on your living room couch.

Wonwoo’s hands stay in a respectable place on your hips, but it’s simply not enough for you anymore.

You reach down, guiding his grip to your bum.

Wonwoo groans beneath you, breaking the kiss to look up at you. “Should we take a minute?”

“Why?”

Wonwoo blushes. “Well, uh…”

That’s when you feel something pressing against your core, and you realize your grinding has caused him to get hard. Your pussy flutters, and you swallow thickly. “Do you really want to stop?”

“Well, I mean… you’ve been having stomach pains. Your IUD might be in the wrong place-”

“You felt the strings, that means it’s there.”

“What if it’s not working?”

“I read online that as long as it’s in me still, it’s likely working.”

“Do you want to risk it?”

You swallow thickly. “I want you.”

“What if this messes things up?”

“It won’t,” you tell him.

“How can you be so sure?”

Wonwoo’s looking at you with such pure eyes, and your heart melts for him. “I just know.”

You can see the moment he gives in.

You’re both putting your friendship on the line, but if there’s one man in the world who you know would never hurt you, it’s Wonwoo.

Slowly, you press your lips to his again.

The momentum is like it was the first time, a gentle, gradual build, and you’re doing your best not to start grinding on him again.

Your body wants one thing, but your mind knows you have to take this slow.

Wonwoo’s a thoughtful man. He’s a thinker. And thoughts don’t easily slip from his head. You don’t want to scare him away, so you meet his pace, allowing him to be the one who instigates progression.

His hand begins to grip your bum again, and you release a moan, kissing him deeper.

Your fingers thread through his hair, gently tugging to earn your own sounds of pleasure.

God, Wonwoo’s so sexy. Your entire body is humming with energy as you make out like teenagers on your living room couch.

You can feel yourself getting wetter by the second, and soon, Wonwoo seems to break too.

He pulls away from the kiss, letting out a groan. “Do you want to go to my room?”

“Okay.”

You’re breathing heavily as you stand up, and you let Wonwoo lead you to his room. Once you’re there, it’s as if the unknowing comes to the surface again. You and Wonwoo look at each other, two people in a room you’ve been in a hundred times, but this time, everything is different.

It’s like starting from ground zero again, both of you tentatively connecting, lips meeting. His hands are on your hips, and the two of you slowly move toward the bed.

You grab the bottom of his shirt, and Wonwoo breaks the kiss to allow you to remove it.

God, his body is so perfect. It’s lean but muscled, and even with his heavy nursing workload, he always finds time to go to the gym.

You remove your hoodie next, revealing the lacy bralette beneath.

Wonwoo swallows thickly, his eyes flicking up to meet your own. His ears are turning pink, and you know he’s shy about checking you out, but unfortunately for him, he’s just going to have to get used to it.

You grab his hand, pulling him to the bed, where you sit down first, looking up at him.

“Can I be honest with you?” you ask.

“Of course.”

“This might be a little awkward for both of us, first times always are,” you note, “but, I think we were always meant to be together, and after this, things will be a lot easier.”

Wonwoo is quiet for a moment, but then he nods. “I agree with that.”

“Try to get out of your own head for a minute, okay?”

“Okay.”

You stroke his hand, and then you guide it to your breast, prompting him to squeeze you gently.

A soft groan escapes your lips. “Feels good.”

Wonwoo swallows thickly, bringing both hands to your breasts so he can massage you through your bralette.

He continues this for a minute before you get too horny, and you reach behind your back to remove the last piece of fabric blocking him from direct contact with your chest.

As the material slips off, Wonwoo takes a sharp breath.

“It’s okay,” you assure him, guiding his hands back. “I like this.”

His thumb brushes over your nipple, and you shiver, core pulsing with interest.

“Here,” you offer, “come sit against the headboard.”

Wonwoo does as you tell him, no questions asked, and once he’s situated, you straddle him like you did on the couch.

Your lips meet, and the kiss is filled with passion. His hands are on your hips, but you grab them, guiding him to your breasts again.

It feels so good to be kissing your best friend while he massages your chest, and you begin to grind down against him, eliciting moans from both of you.

You’re overwhelmed in the best possible way, and you break the kiss, which prompts Wonwoo to kiss your throat, then down to your collar bones- soon, he has your nipple in his mouth, and your whole body lights up with the sensation.

You thread your fingers through his hair, keeping his face pressed against your boobs, a silent plea for him to continue.

Your hips are still swiveling, and you can feel Wonwoo getting harder and harder with each passing second.

Soon, you can’t take it anymore, and you stop. “Let’s get naked.”

“Yeah.”

You get off Wonwoo, standing so you can remove the last of your clothes. He does the same, and then he reaches for his bedside table, removing a condom package and a bottle of lube.

“Condom?” you ask.

“We’re not a hundred percent sure about your IUD yet, and I don’t want to risk anything,” Wonwoo muses.

You decide that if you try to have sex without protection, he’s just going to be in his head, so you promise yourself to get a clean bill of health from your doctor (with perhaps the help of an ultrasound machine), and then you can enjoy the raw feeling of your best friend.

Wonwoo joins you on the bed again, but the condom is still on the side table. It’s clear he wants a bit more foreplay, so you wrap your legs around his hips and draw him close, lips crashing against his own.

The two of you continue to make out, your whole body on fire. One of his hands is still massaging your breast, but then it begins to descend. He rubs your clit, and you whimper, shifting below him for better access.

“Been thinking about fingering you,” he admits.

“Got a taste and you couldn’t forget it, huh?” you tease. “Me neither.”

“Yeah?” He slips two digits into your soaked core.

“Your fingers are just so long, and they fit perfectly. You hit the perfect spot-” you whimper when he touches the exact location you were just talking about. “Fuck, someone’s a fast learner.”

“I noticed how you reacted last time. It wasn’t the time or place then, but I promised to utilize it later if I ever got the chance,” Wonwoo breathes, stroking your g-spot expertly.

Your eyes close, and you give in to the pleasure, whimpering and desperately clutching his shoulders.

Wonwoo’s lips move to your throat, and he worships you, making your mind go blank and your legs numb. God, he’s good with his fingers, repeatedly hitting your G-spot while his palm rubs your clit-

“Don’t stop,” you whimper, feeling your release bubbling already. Foreplay and longing have contributed to a fast unraveling, and Wonwoo just knows what you like. Sure, this is a first time for you both, but he knows enough about you to infer things, and your vocal nature edges him on as he works you closer and closer to the edge.

You’re getting louder and louder, and soon, you’re belting out, “I’m gonna cum!”

Wonwoo finger fucks you even faster, and you explode like a firework. Sparks of jittery energy combust through you, taking over your entire body as Wonwoo pleasures you.

You gasp loudly, and Wonwoo helps you ride out the orgasm with unwavering dedication.

His kisses are a constant on your throat, and he works you through it until your core stops pulsing around his fingers.

Then, Wonwoo removes them.

You’re shocked to open your eyes and see your neat freak best friend lick his digits clean, and your core throbs at the sight.

His cock is completely erect, and it looks beautiful. It’s long, but still thick enough to be balanced, if you can describe a penis as balanced, that is.

Wonwoo reaches for the condom package, and you watch, breathless, as he slides the rubber on.

“You still want this?” he asks.

“More than anything,” you confirm, opening your arms to prompt him to come closer again.

“Do you want me to use lube?” he asks.

“I’m wet enough and we both know it.”

“I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” he assures you, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

God, you love this man.

You’ve loved him for years, and you can tell in this moment that you’re very much at risk of being in love with him within the week.

You draw his lips to yours as he adjusts his cock to your core, rubbing the tip between your soaked pussy lips.

Wonwoo is slow about pushing into you, giving your body time to adjust.

You haven’t had sex in a while, so it’s definitely a jump from fingers to cock, and you groan into the kiss as he sheathes himself.

Once his hips are flush to your own, your mouths separate so you can both moan at the sensation. Wonwoo swallows thickly. “Should I move?”

“Yeah,” you nod, eagerly awaiting what’s to come. “Feels good already.”

Wonwoo takes a breath as he begins to thrust, it’s shallow and slow at first, but the pleasure is so great that you find yourself grabbing his shoulders.

Your head falls back against the pillows, eyes closing to enjoy everything Wonwoo is giving you.

As his pace accelerates, he draws your lips to his own again, and you kiss him desperately as he fucks you.

One particularly deep thrust has you squeaking, and Wonwoo pauses, breaking the kiss. “I can definitely feel your strings.”

“What?”

“The IUD, I felt them.”

“Like… on your cock?”

Wonwoo laughs. “Yeah.”

“Is that normal?”

Wonwoo shrugs. “I don’t know much about it. But if my fingers could reach them, I guess we shouldn’t be surprised my dick can.”

When you’d gotten an IUD, you hadn’t known any of this stuff. “Did it hurt?”

“Not really, it was just a feeling.” Wonwoo begins to thrust again, but you can tell he’s keeping it shallower.

If he were to go deeper, you get the sense he’s afraid he might mess up your wonky IUD even more, and while part of you wants him to let go and just decimate you, you respect that he’s being careful.

His lips meet yours again, and the kiss distracts you from all things IUD.

Each thrust is like heaven, and your core is so soaked that every movement is easy.

You’re whimpering more and more, and Wonwoo’s returning your sounds with noises of his own.

Sex hadn’t felt this good all those months ago when you had it last, had it?

No, you think the pleasure is because you’re having sex with Wonwoo, and your whole body warms at the notion.

“You feel so good,” Wonwoo groans, his lips moving to your throat. You love the sensation of his hot breath on your skin, and you thread your fingers through his hair to keep him close.

“Sounds…” you swallow thickly, “sounds like you’re close.”

“Yeah, maybe I need to slow down,” Wonwoo admits.

“It’s okay, neither of us has done this in a long time,” you remind him.

“I don’t want to be a three pump chump.”

You never thought you’d hear that phrase coming from Wonwoo of all people, and it makes you giggle. “You’re not a three pump chump,” you assure him.

“You’re not going to be disappointed?” he asks.

“We can always do this again in twenty minutes or something,” you point out.

“I guess that’s true,” Wonwoo laughs. “I just want to make sure you’re… satisfied.”

“I’ve cum once already, which is more than I can say for the last guy I was dating, so… I think you’re off to a good start.”

Wonwoo lets out a sigh. He never liked your ex.

“Okay,” he says finally. Then he kisses you again, beginning to move.

He’s found the perfect amount of depth. It’s deep, but not so deep that he’s hitting your strings or making you uncomfortable.

You give in to the feeling again, forgetting your little interlude as you’re taken over by pleasure once again.

Wonwoo’s fingers thread with yours, and he begins to moan again, getting close to the edge while pleasure builds within you, too.

“I think I can cum soon,” you tell him between kisses.

Wonwoo doesn’t respond, but his free hand moves between your bodies, and he begins to rub your clit, causing jolts of pleasure to erupt through you again.

You moan desperately, muscles tightening with each pass of his fingers, combined with his cock working your insides.

“Don’t stop,” you whimper, gripping the feeling and refusing to let go as it builds-

Wonwoo lets out another groan, and the sound is so sexy it makes your insides twist into knots-

One more rub of his fingers on your clit has you exploding. Your core clamps down on him like a vice, a strangled gasp escaping you as the fireworks return, sparkling through you.

Wonwoo shivers, fucking you even harder, and a moment later, he lets out his own sound of pleasure. His thrusts falter, and although you can’t feel him filling your insides since he’s filling a condom, you can tell from the pulsing of his cock that he’s cumming too.

Your fingers thread through his hair, and you draw him close, both of you panting in the throes of passion.

His movements stop, and you both just stay still for a few moments, trying to regain composure after two explosive orgasms.

Wonwoo swallows thickly, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.

Then, he pulls out of you. There’s no mess of cum, no need to clean anything up, so once he’s gone to the bathroom to discard his condom, he returns and collapses into bed with you.

You immediately cuddle up next to his side, releasing a sigh of relief as his arms wrap around you.

For the first time, you can tell Wonwoo’s not thinking about anything, that he’s fully in the moment with you. He looks peaceful, and it makes your heart sing.

Who knew all it would take was an extremely awkward interaction over IUD strings to bring the two of you together like this?

He’s your person, he always has been, and he always will be.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! IUDs can be a shit show but nurse Wonwoo is so hot.

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below!

🔮 preview. There’s no contraption to break or misplace inside of you, and being birth control free with the intention of pregnancy feels a little something like liberation from the shackles that once dictated your sexual relationship.

cw/ tw. unprotected sex, baby making, multiple reader orgasms, fingering, eating out, body/nipple worship, blow job, hand job, baby making, dirty talk, praise, etc… I petnames. (hers) honey.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.3k I teaser wc. 160

🌙 starring. Jeon Wonwoo x afab!Reader

bonus

You and Wonwoo have been together for four years now, married for one, and life is complete bliss.

Sure, things can be difficult; after all, he’s now a full nurse, and hospital hours can be hectic. But outside of general life ups and downs, your relationship is as solid as it ever has been.

About a month ago, you’d gotten your IUD taken out. It was horribly uncomfortable to get the device removed, but it was almost comical to see the tiny little ‘T’ contraption that had kick-started the most important romantic relationship of your life. You were glad to see the little bugger go, and it’s absence now signifies the start of a new chapter for you and Wonwoo.

In the year you have been married, the two of you have slaved over finances and life planning, and now that your birth control has been removed, your doctor has given you the go-ahead to start trying for a baby.

☀️ to read the full fic AND 2.3k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here

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inseobts · 3 months ago

Note

HAII, I heard your request is now open again and I wanted to request this!

wherein the reader has feelings for (any character you want!) and they friend zone her, and she gets the hanahaki disease!😁 they don't tell anyone until they're almost at the brink of death. well, you can choose if the reader lives or not but the character you choose will happen to realize they do have feelings for the reader and they were only confused at the beginning!

it's kinda like angst sorry😅 But I really want to see something like this from you, since you are an excellent writer! ty smmm

Petals in Silence

zoro x fem!reader

Hanahaki Disease (花吐き病 (Japanese); 하나하키병 (Korean); 花吐病 (Chinese)) is a fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings (romantic love only; strong friendship is not enough), or when the victim dies. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim’s romantic feelings for their love also disappear.

a/n: wrote about this for one of my old kpop fanfics so I got really exciting to write this again for a different media

words count: 4.0k

tags: illness, angst and fluff, chopper and law being good doctors, unrequited love, slow burn, emotional hurt

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The first time you cough up a petal, it’s early morning.

You’re brushing your teeth in the bathroom when something tickles your throat. You cough once, then harder.

A soft, white petal drops into the sink.

You blink. Stare. It’s delicate. Real.

“What the hell…?”

You look up at the mirror. Your reflection stares back, pale and confused.

You cough again.

Another petal.

“No. No, no, no.”

You quickly wash the sink, flush the petals, and press a trembling hand to your mouth. You’re breathing fast now.

“What is this?” you whisper.

You sneak into the library on the ship when no one’s around. Robin might be there later, but right now it’s quiet.

You pull out an old medical book. Then another.

Finally, you find it.

Hanahaki Disease: A rare, fatal illness caused by unrequited love. The infected cough up flower petals as feelings deepen. The only cures are returned love… or surgery that erases all memory of the beloved person.

You reread it five times.

Then you sit back, stunned.

“No way...” you say out loud “That’s not real.”

But the pain in your chest disagrees.

You press your hand over your heart. It feels like something is blooming. Slowly. Cruelly.

You whisper the name you’ve been hiding in your heart for so long “…Zoro.”

You try to act normal during dinner. You sit beside Luffy and across from Zoro. You talk with Nami, laugh with Usopp. But you keep sneaking glances at him.

Zoro’s sipping sake, listening to Sanji rant about proper cooking technique. He doesn’t even look your way.

That tiny ache in your chest grows just a bit stronger.

You excuse yourself early and go to bed.

Later that night, Zoro finds you on the deck. You’re alone, staring at the sea. You don’t notice him until he speaks.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

You flinch a little “Oh yeah. Just thinking.”

He steps beside you. Arms crossed “You’ve been quiet lately.”

“I’m fine” you say quickly.

“Didn’t ask if you were fine,” he says, tone flat “I said you’ve been quiet.”

You don’t answer. You look away, afraid you’ll start coughing again.

“Anyway,” he says after a moment, “don’t push yourself too hard. You get weird when you're tired.”

You smile, small and sad “Thanks, Zoro.”

He nods and walks away, like nothing’s wrong. Like your heart isn’t trying to kill you.

You start avoiding him.

Not in a big, obvious way. Just enough to keep the pain small. Manageable.

You leave the room when he enters. You sit farther away at meals. You laugh at his jokes less. You pretend you’re busy when he trains, even though you used to watch him every day.

Still, he notices.

“You mad at me or something?” Zoro asks one afternoon.

You blink “What? No.”

He raises an eyebrow “You’ve been weird. Distant.”

You shrug “Maybe I’m just tired.”

He watches you, arms crossed “You’ve said that a lot lately.”

You force a smile “Guess I’m always tired.”

You walk away before you start coughing again.

Later that night, you’re alone again on the deck. Same spot. Same stars. Same sea.

Your chest feels heavy tonight. Your throat burns.

You cough hard. Petals. So many.

They spill from your mouth, red and white, soft and cruel.

You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to stop the sound, trying not to cry.

This is getting worse.

You fall to your knees.

It’s too late to stop it now.

The next morning, you can’t take it anymore.

You find Chopper in the infirmary. You pull him aside, whispering.

“Can I ask you something… privately?”

He looks up at you, curious “Of course. What’s wrong?”

You swallow hard “Do you know anything about… Hanahaki disease?”

His eyes widen.

“What?” he says “Why? Who—who has it?”

You don’t answer. Just pull a crumpled petal from your pocket and place it in his hand.

His face falls.

“Oh no… Y/N...” he whispers.

You don’t speak.

He looks at you with tears in his eyes “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?!”

You give him the weakest smile “I didn’t want anyone to know. Especially not him.”

Zoro finds you the next day.

“You’ve been ignoring me” he says bluntly.

You sigh “I haven’t.”

“You have. What’s going on?”

You look at him. Really look at him.

Strong. Focused. Brave. And not yours.

You take a deep breath.

“Zoro,” you say softly, “do you see me as… anything more than a friend?”

He frowns “What kind of question is that?”

“Just answer.”

He looks confused for a second, then says, “You’re a great friend. You know that.”

Your heart cracks right there “I see.”

He tilts his head “Why?”

You shake your head and step back “No reason.”

“Wait—”

“I have to go” you whisper, already walking away.

You cough again as you turn the corner. This time, petals fall from your hands like snow.

You visit Chopper again the next day. This time, you don’t bother hiding the blood on your sleeve.

He panics the moment he sees you.

“Y/N, sit down, right now.”

You do.

He shines a light in your throat, listens to your breathing, checks your heartbeat. His hooves are trembling.

“Your lungs…” he says quietly “the flowers are growing faster.”

“I know.”

“You’re in the second stage. If this keeps up—”

“I know, Chopper.”

Silence.

You break it first.

“Is there any way to slow it down?” you ask, voice thin “Just a little?”

Chopper hesitates “I can give you medicine to ease the pain. But it won’t stop the petals.”

You nod. That’s enough. For now.

He wraps your wrist where you’d scratched it raw from coughing.

“You need to tell the others” he says softly.

“I can’t.”

“Y/N—”

“No.”

He looks at you, torn between doctor and friend. But he nods.

For now, he’ll keep your secret.

At lunch, you barely touch your food. Sanji notices right away.

“You feelin’ alright, sweetheart?” he asks, kneeling beside your chair with a plate in hand.

You blink “I’m fine.”

“Liar,” Nami says across the table “You look like a ghost.”

Usopp leans in “Have you been throwing up or something?”

Your grip tightens on your fork “Just tired.”

“You keep saying that,” Luffy mumbles with food in his mouth “You said that yesterday, and the day before that, and the—”

“I said I’m fine!” you snap.

Silence falls.

You don’t look at anyone. You stand quickly, chair scraping back.

“I’m sorry. I just... I need some air.”

You rush out before they see your hand fly to your mouth.

You cough behind a crate on the lower deck. Violet petals. Tiny thorns. Blood.

You shake as they fall into your palm.

Someone walks by above you, and you press your mouth shut until your lungs burn. You can’t let them hear.

You slide down to the floor, heart pounding.

You can’t keep this up much longer.

That night, Zoro knocks on your door.

You don’t answer.

He opens it anyway “Hey. We need to talk.”

You sit on your bed, facing the wall.

He walks in slowly “You’ve been avoiding everyone. Something’s wrong.”

You don’t move “I’m just tired.”

“That’s not gonna work anymore,” he says “Your voice is weak. You’re pale. And you’re breathing weird.”

You say nothing.

Zoro narrows his eyes “Did someone hurt you?”

That makes you laugh. It’s a broken sound “No. Not someone.”

He waits.

You finally turn toward him, eyes glassy “I think I’m sick, Zoro.”

He steps closer “Sick how?”

You look down at your hands. But you don’t answer.

Not yet.

He understands and leaves you alone.

It’s been weeks.

You’re coughing more now. Petals come in waves, in your sleep, in the middle of meals, behind closed doors. You can barely hide it anymore. Chopper’s running out of ways to explain your pale skin and shaking hands.

Then one afternoon, Law steps onto the Sunny.

The crew cheers, it’s been a long time since you’ve seen the Heart Pirates. But you don’t move from the railing. Your body feels too heavy.

Zoro notices.

So does Chopper.

Later, Chopper finds you in the infirmary, Law just behind him.

He stares at you for a long moment, then sighs “Chopper told me everything. Including the petals.”

Your breath catches.

Chopper looks hopeful, desperate even “He thinks he can do the surgery. It’s risky, but it might work.”

You go cold “The memory one?”

Law nods “I can remove the infection. The petals. You’ll survive. But you’ll forget everything tied to the person who caused it.”

You don’t even have to think.

“No.”

Chopper gasps “What? Y/N, you’re dying.”

“I don’t care,” you whisper “I don’t want to forget him.”

Law watches you carefully “You’d rather die than let go?”

You nod.

There’s a pause. Then Law gestures for Chopper to leave the room.

He does, slowly.

Now it’s just you and Law.

“I don’t do emotional attachments” he says, leaning against the wall “But even I know this is stupid.”

You laugh bitterly “Yeah. It is.”

He folds his arms “You sure he doesn’t feel anything for you?”

“He made it clear,” you say, staring at the floor “He sees me as a friend. That’s all.”

Law raises an eyebrow “You asked him?”

“Of course, I'm dying... I asked if he could ever see me as more. He said I’m a great friend. That’s it.”

He doesn’t reply for a moment. Then quietly, he says, “You should tell him about the disease.”

You look up sharply “No. That’s the one thing I won’t do.”

“Why?”

Your voice cracks “Because I don’t want to be loved out of pity. I want it to be real. Not because I’m dying.”

Behind the cracked door, someone stands frozen.

Zoro.

He hadn’t meant to listen. He was just walking by.

He wasn’t trying to find you. Not on purpose.

But now your words are echoing in his head, and they won’t stop.

“I don’t want to forget him.”

“I want it to be real.”

He feels like something is unraveling in his chest.

Suddenly, memories flood in. You watching him train. Laughing at his jokes. Smiling when you thought he wasn’t looking. Bleeding silently.

And him, brushing you off. Pushing the feelings down. Because love was a weakness. A distraction. Something he couldn’t afford.

But now you're dying, and it’s his fault you’re alone.

He presses his hand to the wall beside the door.

“Idiot” he whispers.

He doesn’t even know if he means you or himself.

Zoro doesn’t sleep that night.

He leans against the railing of the upper deck, sword resting by his side, your words stuck in his mind like a thorn he can’t pull out.

“I want it to be real.”

“I don’t want to forget him.”

He tightens his grip on the hilt.

He doesn’t understand everything about emotions... hell, he usually avoids them altogether but he’s not dumb.

He heard enough to know what this is.

Enough to know you’ve been dying quietly, and everyone’s been hiding it from him.

The next morning, he finds Chopper in the kitchen, alone, fiddling with a pile of vitamins and bandages.

Zoro crosses his arms and speaks flatly “What’s wrong with her?”

Chopper freezes “W-Who?”

Zoro just stares.

Chopper sweats “You mean…uh…Nami? I think she had a cold last week—”

“Y/N” Zoro says, voice sharp “Don’t play dumb.”

Chopper drops the spoon in his hoof “Oh.”

Zoro leans in, towering over the small reindeer “I heard Law talking to her. I heard enough. Now tell me everything.”

Chopper swallows “I-I promised not to—”

“Chopper.”

“I—I mean—she’s—”

He folds immediately “Okay! Okay! It’s Hanahaki!”

Zoro stiffens “Hanahaki…?”

“She’s been coughing up petals for weeks. She’s in stage two, probably. Her lungs are already getting worse. If she doesn’t get surgery, she’ll—” Chopper gulps before continuing “She’ll die.”

Zoro goes completely still.

“And it’s because of—” Chopper shuts his mouth with both hooves.

“Because of what, Chopper?”

“I—I can’t say that part—”

Zoro crouches down, voice low “Is it because of me?”

Chopper's eyes fill with panic.

“That’s a yes.”

“Zoro...”

He stands up suddenly, knocking over a chair. His jaw clenches.

Chopper reaches out “Please don’t get mad at her! She didn’t want to say anything. She didn’t want you to know. She didn’t want to make you feel bad—”

Zoro turns away, fists clenched “She’s dying and she’s worried about me?”

“She loves you,” Chopper says quietly “But she’d rather die than force you to love her back.”

Zoro doesn’t answer.

He just stands there, breathing hard and then he walks out.

Fast.

Not toward you.

Not yet.

He needs to get his head straight because for the first time in a long time, Zoro is afraid.

Not of losing a fight.

But of losing you.

You’re sitting alone in the small reading room on the Sunny, legs tucked up beneath you, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. A book is open on your lap, unread. The words blur. Your head throbs.

You’ve been coughing all morning. You can taste iron in the back of your throat.

You hear the door open and close behind you.

You don’t look up “Chopper, I already took the medicine—”

“It’s not Chopper.”

Your breath catches.

You look up.

Zoro.

Standing there, arms crossed. Shadows under his eyes. A strange look on his face — like something sharp and unfinished.

You blink slowly “What do you want?”

He walks forward. No swords. No usual swagger. Just…Zoro.

“I know” he says.

Your stomach drops.

“I know everything. Hanahaki. The petals. That it’s because of me.”

You go still.

“I didn’t want you to find out,” you say quietly “Not like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t want your pity.”

He sits across from you. His eyes are unreadable.

“You didn’t want to tell me... but you told Law?”

You wince “Chopper dragged him in. Said he could save me.”

Zoro stares at you for a moment. Then “You turned down the surgery.”

“Yes.”

“Because you didn’t want to forget.”

“Yes.”

Silence.

You speak first “I asked you once if you saw me as anything more than a friend. You said no.”

“I said you’re a great friend,” Zoro says “But I didn’t say no.”

You freeze “That’s not what it felt like.”

He leans forward “I didn’t answer you honestly. I didn’t want to answer.”

You whisper “Why?”

His voice is low “Because I was scared it would mess everything up. You’re... you’ve always been close. If I let myself feel something else, I thought it would get in the way.”

“Of your goal,” you say “Becoming the world’s strongest swordman.”

He nods once “I told myself there was no room for anything else.”

Your hands are shaking in your lap.

“And now?” you whisper.

Zoro hesitates. For the first time in forever, he looks unsure.

“I don’t know,” he says “But when I heard what you said to Law… that you’d rather die than forget me… I realized I don’t want to lose you.”

Your heart slams against your ribs.

“I don’t know if I deserve this,” he says “But I want to try. If you’ll let me. I should’ve said it before you ever started coughing.”

Zoro’s confession echoes in the small room.

You sit there for a long moment, stunned, heart beating so fast it hurts more than your lungs.

But the pain in your chest doesn’t stop. In fact, it starts to burn.

That isn’t supposed to happen.

“I…” You swallow hard, forcing your voice to stay calm “Can I ask something?”

Zoro looks at you, still tense “Yeah.”

You grip the blanket tighter around your shoulders “Do you actually mean it? Or are you just saying that because you don’t want me to die?”

He flinches.

You nod slowly “That’s what I thought.”

Zoro opens his mouth, but you cut him off.

“It’s okay. Really. You don’t have to feel guilty. I’m... glad you care. But you don’t have to pretend to love me. That would hurt more.”

His jaw tightens “I’m not pretending.”

You give him a sad smile “Zoro... if this was real, the petals would’ve stopped by now.”

You cough hard. A violent shake rips through your chest, and something wet and warm fills your palm.

You look down.

A full, red flower lies there, soaked in blood.

Your fingers tremble as you wipe it away, turning your face from him.

“See?” you whisper.

Zoro doesn’t say anything.

He just leaves.

He storms through the Sunny like a blade cutting through mist.

Straight to the infirmary.

Chopper and Law both look up from the counter.

Zoro slams his hands down “Why isn’t she better?”

Chopper blinks “Wh-What?”

“I told her. Everything. I confessed. So why is she still coughing up flowers?!”

Law stands slowly “Did she believe you?”

“What?”

Law narrows his eyes “Hanahaki is rooted in emotion, not logic. You can say whatever you want but if she doesn’t believe it in her heart, it won’t stop.”

Zoro’s throat goes dry.

“She thinks I said it out of pity...” he mutters.

Law’s voice drops “Then her body still thinks it’s unrequited.”

Zoro swears under his breath.

Chopper tugs at his sleeve, eyes big and worried “Zoro, she’s getting worse. No matter what I give her, the petals will start to grow into her lungs. They’ll wrap around her ribs. After that...”

He doesn’t finish the sentence.

Zoro steps back.

He’s never felt so helpless.

“I’ll fix it” he says, turning toward the door.

Law raises a brow “How?”

Zoro doesn’t answer because he doesn’t know yet. But he’s sure of one thing, this time, words aren’t enough.

The sun is setting. Gold light spills over the deck of the Sunny.

You sit alone again, wrapped in your blanket, watching the sea blur into the sky. The petals are getting worse now, they come up more easily, more violently. You can feel them in your lungs even when you're not coughing.

You don’t know how much time you have left.

You don’t hear Zoro approach.

He stands beside you silently for a few seconds. Then, without a word, he sits down.

You look at him. His expression is unreadable. Focused. But his eyes are storming.

“I’m not good at this” he says quietly.

You don’t answer.

He pulls something from his waist. A worn cloth. He unfolds it slowly.

Inside is a small charm. Hand-carved wood, shaped like a sword crossed with a flower.

Your breath catches.

“I made it back on Wano,” he says “Took me three days. I almost threw it out. Thought it was stupid.”

He doesn’t look at you. Just the charm.

“I didn’t know why I was making it. I told myself it was just something to pass the time. But I carried it with me every day since.”

“Why are you showing me this?”

Zoro finally turns to you.

“Because I didn’t just come here to say something this time. I’m here to prove it.”

He places the charm in your lap.

Then Zoro kneels.

Your heart skips “Zoro—what—”

“I’m not asking you to believe me because I said I care,” he says, voice rough “I’m asking you to believe me because I was a coward, and I missed my chance, and I don’t want to make the same mistake twice.”

You stare at him, stunned.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he continues “Not because I feel guilty. Not because you’re sick. Because I’ve loved you longer than I was willing to admit.”

Your eyes well with tears. You shake your head “But... Zoro... why didn’t you—”

“Because I thought I couldn’t afford it” he says “But I realized... what’s the point of becoming the world’s strongest swordsman if you’re not there to see it?”

Your lungs seize.

You cough.

A petal falls into your palm.

Just one.

Small.

Thin.

You stare at it.

Zoro sees too. And for the first time you see hope in his eyes.

It’s slow.

You still wake up coughing sometimes but not with blood anymore. Not with full blossoms tearing your throat raw.

Now, it’s just a few pale petals, thinner than paper. Some mornings, none at all.

You’re healing.

And every time you wake up, Zoro is there.

Not hovering. Just close. Training. Napping with one arm slung over a chair. But always there.

He doesn’t say much. He lets his presence do the talking.

One night, you sit outside the infirmary, wrapped in a jacket that’s obviously not yours, too big, too warm. Smells like steel, sweat, and something familiar.

Zoro’s jacket.

He comes up beside you, leaning against the wall.

You glance at him “Still watching me?”

“Still making sure you don’t keel over,” he says “It’d ruin my day.”

You laugh softly “Chopper says the petals might stop completely soon.”

He nods “Good.”

You look at him “Do you remember what you said? On the deck. About… me seeing you become the world’s strongest swordman?”

Zoro doesn’t look away “Yeah.”

“Do you still want that?”

“More than ever.”

You swallow “And… do you still mean it? What you said about loving me?”

Zoro turns to you fully.

“I’ve said a lot of things I didn’t mean in my life,” he says “But that wasn’t one of them.”

Silence.

Then you reach out, fingers brushing his hand.

“Zoro?”

He meets your eyes.

“Can I kiss you?”

His answer is a quiet but firm “Yeah.”

You lean in slowly, giving him time to pull away.

He doesn’t.

His lips are warm. Dry at first... hesitant. But then you feel him tilt toward you, just a little. And his hand rises to rest on your back.

It’s not perfect. It’s a little clumsy. But it’s real.

And when you pull back, breathless and flushed, you cough but not a single petal falls.

Zoro watches you, eyes searching.

When he speaks, his voice is low “Guess that’s one way to test if it’s real.”

You smile “Feels pretty real to me.”

It’s been days since your last petal.

Chopper checks your lungs every morning now with his stethoscope and a hopeful smile, and every time he hears nothing but clean, healthy breathing, he squeaks in joy and flails his little hooves around.

You owe him everything.

Which is why you're now crouched outside the kitchen with a stack of pink cupcakes, a tiny hand-sewn thank-you card (drawn with crayons), and one extremely annoyed swordsman beside you.

Zoro crosses his arms “I still don’t get why I have to be here.”

“Because you helped me live,” you say, balancing the cupcakes with exaggerated care “And Chopper basically didn’t sleep for a week watching over me. We’re doing this together.”

Zoro grumbles “I could’ve just said thanks.”

You grin “And yet, here you are. Holding a party hat.”

“I’m not wearing it.”

“You will wear it.”

He grunts again but doesn’t argue further.

You knock on the door.

“Chopper! Can you come out here for a sec?”

He waddles out, sleepy-eyed, blinking up at youmand freezes.

His eyes go huge.

The cupcakes are stacked with pink frosting, each topped with tiny candy flowers. The card is messy and full of stickers, and you made sure to draw you, Chopper, and Zoro in crayon (Zoro has three swords and a frowny face, just for accuracy).

Zoro groans beside you.

“Thanks for helping me” you say brightly, holding it all out “We love you, Chopper.”

Chopper’s cheeks go red “Wha—whaaa?! I—I—I was just doing my job! Y-You didn’t have to—!”

Zoro, looking like he’d rather be stabbed, mumbles, “Thanks, you tiny doctor.”

Chopper makes a noise. A mix between a squeak and a sob.

He bursts into tears, flinging his tiny arms around your leg and Zoro’s knee at the same time.

“I’m so happy you’re not dead!!!”

Zoro looks at you, completely frozen.

You just smile, slip the party hat onto his head, and whisper “Told you this would be worth it.”

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slkcakes · 5 days ago

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: ̗̀➛ Books, Books, and More Books ·˚ ༘ S. Reid

Criminal Minds Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader Summary: Spencer lays on you while he reads through all the books he's just picked up from the library Warnings: None just a fluffy little blurb Content: Established relationship

You glanced up from your laptop when you heard the clinking of metal on metal behind your apartment door. You reached over, sliding your laptop onto the coffee table and walking over to the front door before opening it up. Spencer stumbled in, key halfway in the lock and a pile of books in his arms precariously balanced in his left arm. He looked up at you with a lopsided version of his straight lined smile,

“Help?”

You let out a small laugh before reaching for the bottom of the pile just as it was moments from collapsing onto the ground and cradled them in your arms, “Hello to you too.”

With the weight alleviated he bent down to untie his shoelaces and pull off his well loved red converse before pinching them together at the opening and putting it away neatly to the side next to your shoes, one of which was tossed to the side and laying on the ground. Once he stood back up at his full height, he carefully took the books back and took them to the coffee table and let them drop a couple centimeters above the surface.

“So, not to be nosy, but what's up with all the books?” You chuckled and crossed your arms across your chest, “I think you might have cleared out an entire shelf.”

“Well, I just haven't had any time recently to read for myself and not for a case and the library was on my way home,” Spencer explains, reaching up to tug off his tie and undo the first couple of buttons on his dusty purple button up revealing his protruding collar bone.

“Yeah, that's true. You planning on reading all those today?” You walked up to him and kissed his cheek as you felt his face lean into your lips.

“Mhm,” He smiled. The moment he agreed, you mentally canceled all of the plans you had for the day to celebrate his return. To be fair, you didn't think they were going to happen anyway. All you wanted was for Spencer to decompress and get out of his work mode and if that meant staying at home the rest of the day so be it.

You plopped down onto the couch and opened up one of your arms as an invitation to Spencer to which he happily complied and rested his body weight against you. It was only an hour later where you realized your mistake. Your entire body had gone numb and you were hungry. You knew the moment you showed any sign of discomfort or movement he’d immediately scurry to get up and apologize, but seeing Spencer so engrossed in his book and so comfortable caused you to hesitate.

He had his cheek rested on your shoulder, his eyebrows furrowed in focus and round brown eyes darting over the words before flipping to the next page. Maybe he was so focused he wouldn’t notice if you just wiggled your leg a little bit to wake it up…

“Are you uncomfortable?” Spencer was already in the process of getting up,

“No- Spence, it’s okay-”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have laid on you for so long. Now you’re experiencing obdormition, right? Is it just your legs or your arms too?” Spencer tucked his hair behind his ear in nervousness and let the book drop into his lap.

You laughed and cupped his cheek with the one arm that didn’t feel like a deadweight, “It’s okay, I promise. I don’t mind some numbness as long as you’re cozy. C’mere, that’s your last book anyway. Finish it up and you can tell me all about what you’ve learned.”

Spencer’s pink lips went up in a smile again and carefully laid back onto you, making sure you changed your position before doing so, “As long as you’re okay with it.”

Before you knew it, Spencer was done and happily chatted your ear off about each individual book but even as your body tingled back to life and your regained your ability to move, you chose to stay and listen through Spencer’s rants, even during his hour-long monologue about leaf growth.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #x reader #slkcakes fics <3

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atsro-slut · 8 months ago

Note

Would you be willing to write a fem!reader x Remus where you're good friends with Remus, but one lingering touch and you were head over heels, so you're ranting to Lily about your feelings, and she comes up with a plan to set you up with Remus? Team efforts with the other marauders seem fun but you're completely free to do whatever you want! 🫶

Catching Lupin

Hey!!! My literal fav is back! I hope you enjoy bby!!

Remus Lupin x female!Reader

Y/N’s crushing on Remus, and with a little help from Lily and the Marauders, it’s about to go from friendship to something way more.

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:☆

Y/N had always considered Remus Lupin to be one of her closest friends at Hogwarts. Their friendship had blossomed over years of late-night study sessions, shared laughter over ridiculous inside jokes, and quiet walks around the castle grounds. But lately, something had shifted. The comfortable camaraderie they’d always shared suddenly felt… different. At least, it did on her end.

It all started with one lingering touch.

It wasn’t anything overly flirtatious—just Remus gently brushing her arm when handing her a book during their usual spot in the library. But the moment his fingers grazed her skin, a spark had ignited inside her, leaving her breathless and painfully aware of just how close he had been. Since that moment, she couldn’t stop thinking about him—about the warmth of his hand, the way his brown eyes glinted when he smiled, how she felt safe and seen whenever they were together. It was maddening.

And now, Y/N was pacing back and forth in the Gryffindor common room, her hands tangled in her hair as she vented to her best friend, Lily Evans.

"I can't stop thinking about him, Lily!" Y/N exclaimed, nearly knocking over a cup of tea in her haste. "Remus! And it’s driving me insane. I mean, what was that touch? That touch—it was nothing, but everything, you know? I swear, I’ve never been this pathetic over a guy before."

Lily raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at her lips. She had been watching the two of them for a while now, and it was becoming increasingly obvious that there was more between Y/N and Remus than either of them realized. She set her tea cup down, a mischievous glint in her green eyes.

"Oh, I know exactly what you mean," Lily said with a knowing tone, crossing her arms. "I’ve seen the way you look at him when you think no one’s watching."

Y/N groaned, flopping onto the couch dramatically. "This is ridiculous! He’s my friend. My good friend. And now every time he’s near me, I’m… I don’t know, melting like some kind of love-struck idiot."

Lily laughed softly. "Well, it sounds to me like someone needs a little nudge. What are you waiting for? A grand confession from him?" She paused thoughtfully before her eyes lit up with a spark of inspiration. "Wait, I have an idea."

Y/N sat up, her eyes wide. "What? What idea?"

Lily leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her voice as if they were planning the most intricate plot in wizarding history. "You want Remus? I’ll help you get him. But we need to make a plan. A plan where he realizes just how amazing you are."

Y/N blinked, slightly stunned by the sudden shift. "Wait, are you seriously going to help me? You, the one who always says I should wait for things to happen naturally?"

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," Lily said with a wink. "Plus, you’re clearly head over heels, and you’ve been too busy staring at him to actually do something about it. Leave it to me. I’ll get the Marauders involved. They owe me a favor anyway."

Over the next few days, Lily set her plan into motion, gathering the Marauders for an impromptu meeting in the common room. Y/N had no idea what was going on, but she was already feeling the heat of anticipation in her chest. The Marauders—James, Sirius, Peter, and Remus—had always been close to her, but now that her feelings for Remus were growing, the thought of being around all of them was starting to make her feel a little self-conscious.

One evening, while they were all sitting by the fire in the common room, Lily subtly nudged her toward Remus. He was sitting on the other side of the room, a book in his lap, looking so effortlessly handsome that Y/N could barely keep her focus.

"You know what I think?" Lily whispered, leaning closer. "I think you should go over there. Sit next to him. Get a little closer. Let him see just how much you’ve been avoiding him."

Y/N’s eyes widened. "You want me to just… sit next to him?"

"Yep. And don’t be all nervous about it. Just be yourself." Lily gave her a sly smile. "And I’ll take care of the rest."

Lily’s plan was set into motion the very next evening. As Y/N walked into the common room, she found Remus lounging near the fire, reading a book. His hair was slightly messy, his glasses perched low on his nose, and his warm smile greeted her as she entered.

"Hey, Y/N," he said, looking up from his book. "How’s it going?"

"Good," she replied, her heart pounding in her chest. She hesitated for a moment before taking the seat beside him, her knee brushing his in the process. It wasn’t intentional—at least, not entirely—but the moment their legs touched, she could feel the heat spreading up her spine.

"Mind if I sit here?" she asked casually, trying to hide the way her stomach was doing flips.

"Of course not," Remus replied with a smile, not seeming to notice the nervous fluttering in her chest. He continued reading his book, but the proximity made Y/N acutely aware of every little movement he made, of the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, of the faint scent of the woods and parchment that always lingered around him.

"Y/N," Lily said from across the room, catching her attention with a pointed glance. She gestured subtly toward Remus, then to herself, as if signaling some silent code.

Y/N blinked, her heart pounding in her ears. What was Lily up to? Before she could question it, Sirius, who had been watching the whole thing with a grin, leaned toward James and whispered loudly enough for everyone to hear, "So, what do you think, James? Should we help these two out? I feel like we could, you know, nudge them in the right direction."

James immediately caught on. "Oh, absolutely. Time for a little friendly intervention."

Peter, who had been quietly observing the conversation from the corner, suddenly piped up. "Are we talking about Remus and Y/N? I think we can help. A few well-placed compliments, maybe some strategic distraction…"

Before Y/N knew what was happening, the Marauders had begun their campaign. James and Sirius started joking around with Remus, purposely steering the conversation toward how “amazing” Y/N was—her intelligence, her kindness, the way she could make the most mundane tasks feel fun. Meanwhile, Peter, being the expert in misdirection, kept Y/N distracted with casual small talk, occasionally giving her a teasing wink.

Every time one of them said something about her, Y/N’s heart skipped. She was blushing. She had to admit, their plan was working.

Finally, Remus glanced over at her, his brown eyes meeting hers with a soft, almost shy smile. "You know," he said, his voice low and warm, "I’ve been meaning to tell you something."

Y/N’s heart leapt into her throat. "What’s that?"

He hesitated for a moment, then chuckled softly. "I think I’ve been a little oblivious... But I do like spending time with you. A lot more than I’ve realized."

Y/N blinked. "Oh," she breathed, a smile tugging at her lips. "I think I like spending time with you too."

Sirius, from across the room, gave a thumbs-up, and James clapped dramatically. Peter, ever the strategist, even pretended to be busy so they could have the moment to themselves.

Remus, looking a little sheepish but pleased, finally leaned closer. "Would you maybe want to… go for a walk? You know, just the two of us?"

Y/N’s smile widened. "I’d love that."

As they stood up together, heading toward the door, Lily gave Y/N a wink, mouthing, “Mission accomplished.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, feeling lighter than she had in weeks. Maybe it hadn’t been so hard after all. And thanks to her friends—especially the Marauders—Remus Lupin was no longer just her good friend.

He was something much, much more.

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sevarchive · 2 months ago

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♡ half of everything ──

જ⁀➴ a isagi yoichi story. 2.5k words

synopsis: in which isagi yoichi fell in love with someone else, and you helped him. because loving him meant staying, even if it meant guiding him into someone else's arms.

a/n: please don’t come for me after you read this. i’m just the messenger. blame the feelings, not the writer. 🕊️

the call was already running past midnight,

isagi’s voice had softened, now slurred by sleep, his words curling at the edges with exhaustion. his eyes were half-lidded on the screen, blinking slower with every passing second.

the overhead light in his room cast a soft golden hue over his features, bathing the curve of his cheekbones, his messy hair, the slope of his nose. he looked peaceful. vulnerable, even. hair tousled, lips parted like he was mid-dream.

you should’ve hung up by now. you should’ve let him rest. it wasn’t like he asked you to stay.

but you didn’t hang up.

instead, you watched him, your thumb grazing your screen, like the motion could somehow keep the moment alive a little longer.

“still there?” he murmured, his voice no more than a whisper now.

you nodded instinctively, then remembered he couldn’t see you. “yeah,” you said softly. “still here.”

he smiled faintly, the kind of smile that never reached his eyes but felt like it mattered anyway. “you’re always here.”

it was a throwaway line. something said in the haze of exhaustion and comfort. but it stuck to you like a thorn under the skin, subtle and aching.

you wanted to say, of course i’m here. i’ve always been here. but you didn’t.

instead, you whispered, “sleep. i’ll keep you on, just in case.”

he didn’t argue. he never did. within minutes, his breathing slowed into that quiet, rhythmic rise and fall you knew too well.

you stayed. just like always.

you met isagi in the early days, before blue lock swallowed him whole and before the stadiums began to roar his name. back then, he was just yoichi. ambitious, unsure, and a little too polite for his own good.

you were paired for a group project neither of you cared about. it was awkward at first. he was soft-spoken, always trying to keep things fair, and you didn’t know how to talk to someone who looked at the world like it was a problem he could solve.

but he made you laugh, genuinely, and unexpectedly. and slowly, you made him open up.

one afternoon working at the library turned into coffee at a dingy café. coffee turned into more late-night calls. one day became two, then ten, then months of uncounted hours shared between football rants and quiet silences.

he talked about dreams like they were real, like he was already chasing them with everything he had.

you listened.

always listening. like his words were sacred. like his voice was the only one that mattered.

you watched him climb. watched the way the world started to notice him, the way his shoulders grew broader under the weight of his own potential. you cheered for him from the sidelines, biting down your fears, swallowing every inch of doubt just so he wouldn’t have to.

and somewhere along the way, you fell in love.

it was quiet. slow. a steady ache that made a home in your chest.

but you never told him.

what was the point?

you didn’t want to ruin the friendship—didn’t want to risk the one thing you had.

and maybe, deep down, you were hoping he’d say it first.

the shift didn’t happen in a thunderclap. it came like a soft wind, like a curtain slowly pulling back.

at first, it was a name you didn’t recognize.

airi.

he said it during a call, offhanded, while sipping from a convenience store bottle of iced tea.

“she made fun of my tie,” he chuckled, holding the bottle to his lips. “said it looked like a high schooler’s.”

you laughed along. “was she wrong?”

“i mean… maybe not.” he grinned, cheeks slightly flushed. “god, you know, she’s funny. laughs at everything too. and her smile’s… i don’t know, it just kind of sticks with you. it’s nice.”

he said it so casually. like it wasn’t something that would echo in your head for days.

you froze, just for a second. a beat too long. but you smiled, too. of course you did. that was what you were good at, smiling when it hurt.

you wondered if he ever noticed the way your smile always came a little slower when he talked about her.

he never did.

after that, her name began to slip into conversations more and more.

“she recommended this ramen place. said their tonkotsu’s insane.” “she texted me this stupid meme and i actually laughed out loud.” “she told me i should grow my hair out. think i’d look good?”

you said yes. you always said yes.

even when it started to feel like each ‘yes’ was carving a little more of you away.

it was past eleven when the message came. his name flashed across your screen, your heart leaping even before you saw the words:

yoichi: i want to confess. but i’m freaking out. can i… try it out with you? like practice? idk

you stared at it. the little bubble. the blinking cursor. the heartbeat in your ears.

every instinct you had screamed no.

but your fingers moved on their own:

you: sure. call me.

the screen lit up within seconds. he looked nervous, eyes wide, hair a mess, like he’d been pacing before dialing.

“okay,” he exhaled, fingers raking through his hair. “just pretend to be her, yeah?”

you nodded before you could think. bit your lip so hard you swore it’d bruise.

“hi, yoichi,” you whispered.

it felt wrong coming out of your mouth. like a version of a dream where you were playing someone else’s part.

he laughed nervously, shifting in his seat. “man, this is dumb, huh? practicing like this.”

“no, it’s not,” you said. “it’s sweet. you care enough to want to get it right.”

“yeah, i guess,” he murmured. “i just… i don’t want to mess this up.”

you wanted to tell him he wouldn’t. that he never could. that any girl would be lucky to have him.

you wanted to tell him you were already in pieces just sitting here, pretending.

he didn’t give you the chance.

“i think…” his voice faltered. then steadied, like he was gathering courage. “i think i started falling for you when you teased me about my shooting form.”

your breath caught.

you remembered that day, how your words were playful, teasing. how he’d laughed, rubbed the back of his neck, eyes sparkling in that soft, bashful way of his. you hadn’t known it mattered to him.

and yet, it didn’t matter for the reason you hoped.

“i was frustrated that day,” he said. “i didn’t want to hear criticism. but you didn’t sugarcoat it. you said i was too rigid. that i wasn’t trusting myself. and i remember thinking… she sees right through me. even when i’m trying to pretend i’m okay.”

you swallowed hard, throat thick.

“you’re always honest,” he said, voice growing quieter, more thoughtful. “and not in a mean way. you’re just… real. you don’t let me spiral. you pull me back. i don’t even think you notice how often you save me.”

your eyes stung.

“you believe in me when i can’t,” he said, and it shattered something inside you. “and i don’t even know when that started meaning so much to me. but it does. you matter. so much.”

say her name, you wanted to scream. say her name so i can stop pretending.

but he didn’t. he kept going. and it was worse this way, because he was looking right at you, and still, it wasn’t you he saw.

“i think about you more than i should,” he confessed. “like when something funny happens, you’re the first person i want to tell. or when i’m nervous. or when something good happens and i want to celebrate. it’s always you.”

you clutched the edge of your desk, your knuckles white.

why can’t i be that person too? why can’t it be me you want to tell things to—when i’ve always been here, knowing you better than anyone?

“i don’t want to keep it in anymore,” he said. “so… i like you. i really like you. would you… want to go out sometime?”

you froze.

you listened to him, staring at his hopeful eyes, his smile, the way he tilted his head slightly like he was already picturing a future.

not with you.

with her.

and yet he was practicing on you. like you were just… warm-up. rehearsal.

you smiled. somehow.

“i’d say yes,” you replied, barely above a whisper.

his face lit up, eyes going wide. “seriously?”

you nodded. “she’d be lucky to hear it like that.”

he laughed, rubbing his nape. “god, you’re just saying that.”

“i’m not,” you said. “you sound perfect.”

he looked genuinely relieved. “i really needed this. i was going crazy overthinking it. but saying it out loud helped. and, like… if you think i’ll be okay, i feel better.”

“of course you’ll be okay,” you said, the words slicing your tongue as you let them go. “you always are.”

he smiled at you, so soft, so boyish. “god, what would i do without you?”

you nearly broke.

you nearly screamed that he’d never needed you. that he only ever came to you when he needed comfort, clarity, support, but never love. never the kind you gave without asking for anything in return.

you wanted to say: fall in love with me instead. just once. just look at me and see me.

but you didn’t.

because you knew it wasn’t your place.

because this wasn’t your love story.

he sent her the message right after.

you stayed on the call, watching the small green dot next to his name blink steadily. the typing bubble appeared. disappeared. appeared again.

and then, finally:

i’d love to.

that was it.

three words. just that.

his whole face lit up.

“she said yes,” he whispered, breathless, eyes glowing with something so painfully soft that it shattered whatever was left of you.

you smiled. because what else could you do?

“told you she would.”

he beamed. that rare, unguarded smile that made everything inside you ache.

“i’m really lucky, aren’t i?”

you nodded, swallowing back everything that screamed inside your chest. “yeah,” you said. “you are.”

but it burned.

not because she said yes.

but because that was all she said.

“i’d love to.” that was all it took.

you bit down hard on your tongue.

because if it had been you—if it had been you—you would’ve said everything. you would’ve told him that he wasn’t just someone you liked. he was the only constant in your storm. the voice that pulled you back from the edge every night. the dream you never let yourself have too loudly.

you would’ve said,

i love you. i love you in the way i laughed at your jokes even when they weren’t funny, in the way i watched your matches like they were sacred, holding my breath with every kick, praying the world would see you like i always did. i love you in the nights i stayed on call until the sun came up, fighting sleep just to hear your breathing slow into something peaceful.i love you in the silence, in the waiting, in the ache. in every moment you chose someone else and i smiled anyway. in every word i swallowed just to keep what little we had. in every dream i buried because it didn’t fit into yours. i love you in the way i never said it, because i was afraid. afraid it would ruin what we had. afraid you’d pull away. afraid you’d never feel the same. but most of all, i loved you in the hope that maybe you’d see it first. that maybe, just maybe, you’d choose me without needing to be told. i love you in quiet offerings, in unsent messages, in every second i stayed just to hear you breathe.i love you in the spaces where you’ll never look, and in all the ways you’ll never see.and still, you never had to ask. because i was already yours—even when you were never mine.

all she gave him was a line. neat. effortless. three little words that got her everything.

and you?

you gave him your heart, your time, your pieces, and all you got to say was yeah, you are.

you could’ve given him the world.

but he never asked you for it.

he was already giving his to someone else.

the call ended not long after. he promised to tell you everything tomorrow. you told him goodnight, then sat in the dark, unmoving, unblinking.

the silence around you felt like a scream no one could hear.

your phone lit up again:

yoichi: thank you. i couldn’t have done it without you. ur the best. fr.

you didn’t reply.

you just stared at the screen until it dimmed and faded to black. and still, you sat there, in the quiet ruins of something that was never yours. the role you played was over now; the best friend, the practice run, the warm-up act.

the one who helped him fall in love, just not with you.

you were all he’d ever needed. never what he wanted. and god, wasn’t that the most painful kind of almost?

you remembered the nights you stayed on call with him until morning, when your eyes ached for sleep, but you stayed anyway, just to hear the soft rhythm of his breathing. the way his voice would drop, quiet and warm, when it was just the two of you and the world had stilled.

you remembered dropping everything when he fell sick, racing across the city with medicine and soup, sitting by his side as he shivered and tried to make you laugh through chattering teeth.

you remembered his parents, the way they welcomed you into their home like you belonged there, his mother once taking your hand and saying, “thank you for taking care of our boy.”

you thought those things meant something. maybe they did. just not in the way you'd hoped.

because in the end, it only took one girl. one name that wasn’t yours. she didn’t know how he liked his coffee. she hadn’t heard his voice crack from exhaustion at 3 a.m., or seen the way he curled into himself when he felt like a failure. she hadn’t been there in the beginning, hadn’t listened to the earliest versions of his dreams before they were beautiful.

but she didn’t have to.

she was the one he wanted.

and the worst part was knowing it wasn’t her fault. she hadn’t done anything cruel. she hadn’t stolen anything that was ever truly promised to you. she just appeared, and he chose her. simple as that.

you couldn’t hate her for it. not really.

she was simply the ending he was always meant to have.

and you… you were just the girl who got him there. the one who made it easier for him to love someone else.

oh, you were my everything. i'm just your second best.

and still, you clung to the scraps, because even borrowed affection felt real when it was his.

because part of you believed before— foolishly and desperately—that maybe he’d look back.

but he only ever looked forward.

and it was never at you.

જ⁀➴ © sevarchive ✦ masterlist ; like/reblogs are appreciated ꣑ৎ

#sevarchive ۶ৎ #blue lock #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock angst #blue lock fluff #blue lock au #isagi yoichi #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi yoichi x you #isagi yoichi x y/n #bllk isagi

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ashotofogdensoldfirewhiskey · 10 months ago

Note

hinny prompts??? ooooh um maybe write something where harry is being a bit protective of ginny? hbp, post dh, whichever point in time you feel most inclined to write about!! thanks 😍😍😍

“You were right about Vanishing spells,” Ginny declares irritably, dumping her school bag onto the table Harry has secured for their study date in the library. “They’re a pain in my arse.”

“Ah,” Harry says, looking up from his essay with an expression of sympathy. “Bad lesson?”

Ginny throws herself into the chair opposite and scrunches her nose in distaste. “Awful. Might as well have been using one of Fred and George’s trick wands for all the good mine did, at least then I’d have had a laugh.”

“Did McGonagall set you extra homework?”

Ginny sits up rim-rod straight in her seat, makes her lips as thin as they can go, and adopts a lofty Scottish accent, “Miss Weasley,” she chides, in a passable impression of McGonagall. “An essay on the proper wand motion and theory behind Vanishing vertebrates to me by Tuesday.”

“Brutal,” Harry winces. “How many inches?”

“Two hundred and four. And once you’ve finished that, please use your newfound knowledge to Vanish the Chudley Cannons abysmal goal scoring problems, Fleur Delacour’s superiority complex, and Harry Potter’s penchant for danger. And then you can fling yourself from the Astronomy Tower for your trouble.”

Harry snorts loudly. “Oh, is that all?”

“I might just skip straight to the Astronomy Tower.”

“Efficient. Please don’t, though.”

“Honestly,” Ginny grumbles. “She set me fourteen inches. Fourteen! I’ve already got loads of Charms to do this weekend, I’m going to be in the library all–”

Ginny trails off, for Harry had turned in the middle of her rant to scowl rather hatefully at a group of fourth year Ravenclaw girls whispering at a nearby table. “Er, Harry?”

Harry turns back to her, but the scowl remains. “Sorry. Fourteen inches?”

“What’d they do to you?” Ginny jokes, jerking her head toward the girls’ table. They aren’t being particularly loud, and Harry isn’t typically one to become enraged by library volume etiquette.

“What?” Harry says quickly. “Nothing.”

Ginny grins. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“It’s nothing, honestly.”

“C’mon,” Ginny goads. “Were they trying to ask you about the Chosen One rubbish, or something?”

Harry shakes his head. “No. They… before you arrived, they were talking about you,” he says in a tone of combined incredulity and disgust.

“Ah.” Ginny sits back in her chair, utterly unsurprised. “What was it this time? That I’m spiking you with a Love Potion? Or that you’re only interested in me because I’m a tart? Or – ooh, my favorite is that I’m using you to usurp your position as Quidditch Captain. I think they might be onto something with that one, actually…”

Harry doesn’t even laugh at her joke as his expression approaches the realm of horror. “The Love Potion one but… People have been saying that other stuff about you? To you?”

Ginny shrugs unconcernedly. “Not to my face, but I’ve heard it, yeah. Dunno if you’ve noticed, Harry, but a lot of girls fancy you.”

Harry shrugs this off so quickly that Ginny can’t help the feeling of satisfaction and smug glee that sparks in her chest. “But that’s… that’s so fucked.”

“Well, yeah,” Ginny says, slightly amused by his naivety to the Hogwarts gossip mill. “I suppose. But honestly it’s all rubbish anyway, I don’t give a rat’s arse. Let them say what they want, they don’t know the real reason I’m with you - all your gold.”

Harry laughs despite himself, but the concern quickly returns. “But I don’t understand. Why would anyone think you’re spiking me with Love Potion?”

Ginny grins wickedly. “Dunno. Might want to tone down your infatuation with me. It’s very suspicious.”

Harry shakes his head as he lets out another reluctant laugh. “No, but I mean it. It’s… it’s mental,” Harry makes a gesture to her general person, like she’s meant to agree with something.

“Yeah, I mean, obviously I’d never do that to anyone, let alone you–”

“No,” Harry interrupts. “Well, yeah. I bloody hope not, you’re not Romilda Vane,” he adds darkly. “But that’s not what– I just meant, why would anyone even assume that? Half the blokes at this school fancy you.” He gestures to her again, as though his point should be self-evident.

A heat blossoms over Ginny’s cheeks. “Half the blokes in this school do not fancy me,” she laughs. “You’ve been listening to my brothers.”

Harry stares at her like she’s the one who’s lost her gobstones. “No, I haven’t. But that’s beside the point. It’s just… insulting.”

“Doesn’t paint me in a particularly good light, no,” Ginny agrees, feeling like she’s missing something. “Rather creepy.”

Harry exhales in frustration. “I just meant, how can they honestly think that’s the only reason I’d fancy you? I mean… you’re…” He gestures to her again.

If she’s meant to fill in those blanks, Harry is going to be disappointed. “I’m… what?”

Harry stares at her incredulously. “You’re… brilliant! You’re the best in the school at Quidditch, you’re always making everyone laugh, and well, you look like,” he gestures to her again, helplessly, “that.”

The heat has spread from her cheeks down to her chest. She might be on fire, actually. “Harry–”

“No, it’s… how can anyone honestly think that I wouldn’t fancy you? It’s really rude, actually, I don’t know why you’re not bothered.”

Ginny is struck quite dumb by this proclamation. A tingly, glowing warmth is radiating out from her glowing cheeks. Ginny supposes it shouldn’t feel so surprising - they’re together, and Ginny doesn’t think she’s alone in how quickly her feelings are escalating; on some level it comes with the territory that he’d think these things of her. But she had been totally unprepared for him to be so indignant – not about being the subject of baseless gossip yet again – but about the insinuation that Ginny would need any help in attracting his attention.

“I don’t–” Ginny splutters. “Well, that’s– you really think all that?”

“That you’re brilliant at Quidditch?” Harry asks in disbelief. “That you’re funny and beautiful? I mean – yeah? You are.”

“I think you might’ve overdosed on that Love Potion I’ve been slipping you–”

Harry barks out a laugh again. “Come on. Honestly. Of course I think that. You must know that.”

She supposes she did know, but it’s quite a different matter to have him state it so baldly like this, like her brilliance is so wildly self-evident. Harry’s gone and released a jar of snitches in her stomach.

“Well, clearly the rest of the school’s got a different opinion,” Ginny says, trying to disguise the way his words have impacted her. “Or perhaps you’re underselling your own appeal.”

Harry smirks, and Ginny might die. “Find me appealing, do you?”

“Obviously.”

“Glad my Love Potion’s worked.”

They grin stupidly at each other, and Ginny’s heart is thrumming in her chest.

“I am sorry, though,” Harry says, his grin fading. “That people have been saying all that about you. I didn’t realize.”

“It’s fine,” Ginny says, waving her hand. “Honestly, they’ve done me a favor. Got you to admit how obsessed with me you are, didn’t they?”

“Didn’t realize I was hiding it,” Harry replies, casually delivering the fatal blow to Ginny’s composure.

“That’s it,” Ginny announces, stuffing her Transfiguration book into her bag. “We’re done with the library.”

“But you haven’t even started–”

“Don’t tell McGonagall, then. Come on.”

Harry doesn’t need telling twice, as he packs up his things with admirable speed.

They make their way to the Library exit, still grinning soppily at one another, and their path takes them past the table of Ravenclaws. As they’re passing, Ginny thinks she catches a snippet of their conversation, sees a tightening in Harry's jaw: “--so obvious, I bet she gets them from her brother’s joke shop–”

Suddenly, Ginny is being spun around on her heel. Before she has time to react, Harry kisses her, boldly, smack in the middle of the library. His hands come up to cup her face, and Ginny’s heart is hammering in her chest. After several moments, he pulls away, leaving Ginny feeling rather gobsmacked.

She watches as he shoots a nasty scowl at the Ravenclaw girls, who are all staring in blatant shock. Satisfied, he takes Ginny’s hand again and continues their meandering path from the library, as though they’d experienced no interruption.

“Er, Harry?” Ginny says, thoroughly gleeful. “Not complaining, or anything, but I’m not sure that helped with the whole Love Potion narrative. And it’s definitely not going to help me beat the tart allegations…”

Harry shoots her a sheepish look. “Fuck. Sorry. We’re both tarts, then.”

Ginny’s grin widens. “Oh really? I wish you’d told me sooner…”

#hinny #hbp missing moment #hinny fluff #canon compliant #ogden answers

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z0mbbiegvrl · 3 days ago

Text

SAFETY NET

featuring: choi 'top' seung-hyun x fem!reader

synopsis: from fall to winter, you learn to love again when seung-hyun shows you how.

warnings: AU, takes place in 2007, 2000s nostalgia, light mental health themes, swearing, alcohol and cigarette use, mentions of past emotional manipulation, emotional vulnerability, trust issues, and healing from heartbreak. nsfw (consensual sex, implied sex, emotionally intimate, fingers, kissing, piv sex, no protection, sneaking around)

word count: 3.3k

an: this is my fic for the amazing @steponupbabe 400 followers writing event congrats on hitting 400!! so honored i was invited to this event!! as you can tell, i'm done with summer and ready for fall/winter. wrote this while watching ghost stories dubbed.

You didn’t think it would still ache like this.

It had been almost a year since your last relationship ended—messy, painful, full of words you wish you could unhear. You’d spent the summer trying to stitch yourself back together: late-night AIM rants to your best friend, blasting Paramore on your iPod Nano, updating your MySpace song every time you felt a shift in your mood.

Now it was fall 2007. New school. New dorm. You’d told yourself no distractions. No boys. No flirting. Just classes, iced coffee, and healing.

Then you met Choi Seung-hyun.

It was at a house party in some upperclassman’s off-campus duplex—blaring T-Pain through blown-out speakers, someone’s mom’s throw blanket draped over the busted couch, a beer pong table set up using cinder blocks and a door.

You were already regretting coming.

Your friends were dancing, flirting, drinking something that tasted like cough syrup and watermelon Jolly Ranchers, and you had started to fade out, that too-loud, too-tired, too-much feeling settling over your shoulders.

So you stepped outside. Onto the porch. Into the cold.

That’s where he was.

Leaning against the railing in a grey hoodie and jeans that hung low on his hips, he was lighting a cigarette with cupped hands. The flare of the lighter lit up his sharp cheekbones, the edge of his smirk. He didn’t look at you at first. Just took a slow drag and exhaled like it was a ritual.

You tried not to stare. He noticed anyway.

“You smoke?” he asked, voice low and a little scratchy. The smoke curled around his lips.

“Not really,” you replied. “Just hiding.”

That made him smile. “Same.”

He offered the pack anyway.

You took one, not because you wanted it, but because something in his quiet warmth made you want to say yes again.

“I’m Seung-hyun,” he said, eyes on yours. “You?”

You gave him your name. Watched the way he repeated it, like he was tasting it in his mouth.

The rest of the party faded into a blur after that.

You weren’t expecting him to be funny.

You weren’t expecting him to be kind.

You ran into him again in the dining hall a few days later. Then saw him in Psych 101. Then, beside you in the library. Then texting you on your pink Motorola RAZR after class.

He never came on too strong. Just casual smiles, random compliments, and playlists he made for you burned onto CD-Rs with Sharpie titles like Soft Mornings and Trust Me.

You were still hesitant. You didn’t let him see how much your hands shook when he brushed against you. You didn’t tell him how your last boyfriend made you feel small, needy, and too much. You didn’t tell him that sometimes you looked at your reflection and barely recognized yourself.

But Seung-hyun didn’t rush.

He asked questions. Waited for real answers. He stayed up with you when you couldn’t sleep.

He looked at you like you were whole.

Sometimes, after long study sessions or movie nights, he’d step out to the little side alley near your dorm and light a cigarette. You’d lean against the doorframe in your slippers, watching him.

“You know those’ll kill you, right?”

“Everything does eventually,” he’d say with a crooked smile, exhaling smoke into the cold air. “At least this calms me down.”

You didn’t like it. But you liked him.

He always came back smelling like smoke and his cologne. And when he pulled you into his chest, you let yourself believe it was okay to trust again.

The night it happened, your roommate was gone, and the campus was quiet. Rain pattered against the windows. You had just finished watching Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind on your chunky laptop, the final scene still lingering in your head.

You were lying side-by-side on your bed, shoulders touching. When you turned to face him, he was already watching you.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked softly.

Your breath hitched. “Yeah.”

He leaned in slowly. His lips were warm, unhurried. The kind of kiss that made the world feel still.

When you kissed him back, you let go of fear, of past mistakes, of the voice in your head that said this was too much.

Clothes came off gradually. Hoodie, tank top, jeans, until skin touched skin and your hands mapped each other like familiar constellations. He looked at you like he couldn’t believe you were real.

“You sure?” he whispered against your neck.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “I want you.”

His fingers were careful as he touched you, like a question he already knew the answer to, but still wanted to ask.

When he slipped his hand between your thighs and began to touch you slowly, you let your legs fall open for him without fear. He watched your face as he circled your clit with gentle, steady pressure, like he was memorizing you.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured.

You whimpered his name, hips rocking instinctively. “Seung-hyun…”

He kissed down your throat, over your collarbones, his breath hot and uneven. When his fingers slipped inside you, curling just right, your body arched toward him, aching for more.

“I’ve got you,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

When he entered you, he moved slowly, keeping his eyes locked on yours the entire time. You gasped at the stretch, the fullness, but not from pain, but from trust.

From letting yourself be seen.

He groaned softly, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he began to move, hips rolling in a smooth rhythm. His thrusts were deep, measured, dragging pleasure from you like a secret you didn’t know you were keeping. You wrapped your legs around his waist, needing him closer. Your nails scratched down his back as you moaned, voice breaking when he hit that perfect spot again and again.

“God, you feel so good,” he breathed. “You’re doing so good for me.”

You whimpered something back—his name, a plea, a thank-you—and he kissed you again, slower this time, bodies moving in sync.

He made love to you like you were sacred.

And when you came, you cried out, clinging to him as the pleasure took over. He followed soon after, panting into your mouth as he spilled inside you, murmuring your name like a prayer.

After, you lay tangled in the sheets, your legs still wrapped around him.

His hand stroked your hair, slow and rhythmic.

You pressed your forehead against his. “That was…”

He smiled. “Yeah.”

You let the silence stretch between you, soft and golden.

“I didn’t think I’d ever feel safe like that again,” you whispered.

He kissed your temple. “You won't ever feel anything but that way when I’m with you.”

The next morning, he stepped outside to smoke. You watched him from your window, hoodie hanging off one shoulder, cigarette between his lips, exhaling into the cold air like he was letting go of something too heavy to keep.

When he came back in, you pulled him into your bed again, curling into him like you’d done it a thousand times before.

You played his new CD on repeat while you painted your nails on the floor, and he read aloud from some dense philosophy book, stopping every few minutes to kiss your bare shoulder.

You weren’t afraid anymore.

He caught you

It started snowing sometime around 5:00 PM.

You didn’t notice it at first. You were lying on your dorm bed, bundled in two hoodies and socks pulled up to your knees, scrolling through Facebook on your old Toshiba laptop, the fan whirring like it was about to take off. Outside your window, the light was fading to that soft winter-blue tint, and everything beyond the glass looked blurry, muffled.

That’s when your RAZR buzzed.

seunghyun: look outside rn

I am. It’s snowing.

seunghyun: wanna watch it with me? I have hot chocolate. Real hot chocolate. Not the powdery kind

You smiled.

Then replied,

Bring it up. I’ll clear the window seat.

He arrived ten minutes later, hoodie over his head, a thermos in one hand, a pack of cigarettes in the other. His cheeks were pink from the cold, and snowflakes clung to his hair like little stars.

“You look like an emo snowman,” you teased as you let him in.

He grinned and shook his hair out like a golden retriever. “And you look like a foot,” he said, gesturing to your socks.

“Wow. Romance isn’t dead.”

He laughed and leaned in to kiss your cheek. “Not with you, it’s not.”

Your dorm didn’t have a real balcony—just one of those narrow ledges with a wide, low window. But you’d piled it with pillows and a thrifted fleece blanket, making it your unofficial chill-out nook.

You both climbed in, sitting cross-legged, your knees touching. He poured the hot chocolate into mismatched mugs—yours had chipped glaze and a little ghost on it from Halloween.

Steam rose between you, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The snow fell silently, thick and slow, coating the campus in clean white layers. The streetlights outside glowed orange, casting halos across the falling flakes.

“Feels like a movie,” you whispered, sipping carefully.

“Yeah.” His voice was quiet, too. “Like one of those sad indie ones where the girl runs barefoot through the snow or something.”

You giggled. “If you see me doing that, it’s because I forgot to do laundry again.”

He smiled sideways at you, then reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out a cigarette.

“You mind?”

You shook your head. You watched the orange glow, the way he held it between his lips like it was second nature. You curled into his side, your head on his shoulder, blanket pulled over both of you.

The snow kept falling.

In the quiet, you could hear music faintly from someone else’s dorm. The Fray, probably.

“I used to be afraid of the snow,” you said suddenly.

He glanced down. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. When I was little. I thought if I walked in it, I’d fall through and disappear.”

He was silent for a moment. “That’s kind of heartbreaking.”

You laughed softly. “I was dramatic. Nothing’s changed.”

He leaned his cheek against your hair. “You don’t disappear. You stand out.”

“Yeah, but in a loud, overthinking, too-much way.”

“No.” His voice was firm. “In your way.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the softness in his eyes. “You’re such a sap sometimes.”

He deadpanned. “I’m allowed to be secretly soft.”

You smiled. “Secret’s out.”

Later, you both stretched out under the blanket, facing the window, your legs tangled together. His fingers found yours and laced them tightly, like he needed the contact.

“You ever think about the future?” you asked, your voice muffled against his hoodie.

“Sometimes.” He was quiet. “It used to scare me. Still kinda does.”

“Me too.”

“But lately…” He turned slightly so you could see his face. “I think about you being in it.”

You sucked in a breath.

He didn’t flinch. Just looked at you with that quiet, grounding gaze.

“I mean it,” he said. “I don’t know where I’ll be in five years. But I know I want you there too.”

Your throat tightened.

You cupped his cheek. “I want that too.”

He leaned in.

This kiss wasn’t like the others. It didn’t rush. It wasn’t desperate. It was slow, sure, heavy with everything unsaid—lips pressing, parting, meeting again. His fingers curled into your sweater, yours slipping into his hair.

Outside, the snow swirled like static. Inside, everything stilled.

“I love you,” you whispered against his mouth.

He exhaled like he’d been waiting to hear it. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I love you, too,” he said, voice cracking just slightly. “More than I thought I could.”

You stayed like that until it got late—wrapped in the blanket, legs tangled, your head on his chest, listening to the steady sound of his heartbeat.

The snow never stopped falling.

And for the first time in years, you didn’t feel like you were falling apart.

The first thing you felt was warmth.

Real warmth—not the scratchy heat of your dorm radiator, but a living kind. The kind that wrapped around you from behind, breathed softly against the back of your neck, and tangled your legs up in its own like you were puzzle pieces designed to fit.

Seung-hyun.

His arm was heavy around your waist, the rise and fall of his chest slow, rhythmic. One of his hands rested lightly against your stomach, fingers splayed like he was afraid to let go even in sleep.

You blinked your eyes open slowly. The soft gray light of early morning poured in through your window. Outside, the snow was still there, thick on the rooftops and ledges, undisturbed. A few flakes drifted lazily in the air, but the storm had passed.

Everything was quiet. Peaceful.

You turned your head just enough to see his face. His lips were parted slightly, his hair messy from sleep and your fingers the night before. You couldn’t help it—you reached up, gently pushing a strand from his forehead.

He stirred, eyes fluttering open.

“Mm.” His voice was rough with sleep. “You’re still here.”

You smiled. “So are you.”

“I wasn’t sure if it was a dream,” he mumbled, pressing his forehead against the back of your neck. “Best dream I’ve ever had.”

You laughed quietly, the sound muffled by the pillow. “Do you always flirt this early in the morning?”

“Only when I wake up next to someone like you.” He kissed your shoulder through your T-shirt, then added, more seriously, “You okay?”

You nodded. “Better than okay.”

He pulled you closer. “Good. Me too.”

About twenty minutes later, you were both still in bed, too lazy to move, too content to care.

Your legs were thrown over his thighs, your arm slung across his chest. He was wearing your “Gilmore Girls” hoodie, which was several sizes too small for him, but he refused to give it back after you’d tossed it at him last night as a joke.

“You know I’m gonna need that hoodie eventually,” you murmured, poking his side.

He smirked without opening his eyes. “Too bad. It’s mine now. Smells like you.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And warm.”

You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t fight him when he wrapped you up again and kissed your temple.

“Okay,” you finally sighed. “Breakfast?”

He groaned. “Let me live in this bed forever.”

“I have instant pancakes and a single banana. Possibly expired.”

He opened one eye. “I’ll get the pan.”

Fifteen minutes later, he was standing at your little dorm kitchen nook, shirtless, flipping pancakes in your old scratched pan. You sat on the counter in his hoodie, swinging your legs, watching him.

It shouldn’t have looked this cute—hair a mess, mismatched socks, using your Hello Kitty spatula to poke the pancake—but it did. Everything he did around you felt like it carried meaning. Like he was putting love into every small moment.

You reached for your old Canon digital camera sitting on the microwave and snapped a picture.

He turned. “Hey!”

“You’re so domestic right now. I had to.”

“You mean sexy.”

“That too.”

You looked at him—really looked—and felt it again. That deep, steady sense of falling not out of control, but into something solid.

You ate together on the floor, plates balanced on your laps, his hand resting on your knee like it belonged there. You laughed over syrup stains and kissed in between bites like the world could wait.

And when the plates were empty and the light turned golden, you curled back up under the blanket together, limbs tangled and hearts full.

You hadn’t planned on inviting him home.

It just kind of… happened. One minute you were studying for finals with your head on his thigh and his fingers playing lazily with your hair, and the next, you were saying, “You don’t have to stay on campus over break, you know. My parents have a guest room.”

He looked up from his book. “Are you serious?”

“I mean,” you shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant even though your stomach was twisting, “you’re already halfway part of the family. Might as well make it official.”

His grin was boyish. A little surprised. A little shy. “I’d love that.”

The drive home was quiet, snow gently dusting the trees as you passed familiar roads and old gas stations you hadn’t thought about in months. You had burned a new CD for the ride, and Seung-hyun hummed along to the lyrics like he’d heard them a thousand times.

You stole glances at him from the passenger seat: his fingers drumming the steering wheel, his scarf knotted loosely at his throat, his jaw tense like he was trying not to overthink it.

“They’re going to love you,” you said, reaching over to touch his hand.

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “What if they don’t?”

“They will,” you said gently. “They’ll see what I see.”

Your mom opened the door in a fuzzy red sweater and wide eyes.

“You didn’t tell me he was tall,” she whispered in your ear as she hugged you, then turned to greet Seung-hyun with a polite smile.

“Thank you for letting me stay,” he said, bowing a little, still holding his duffel.

Your mom beamed. “Of course! We’re just happy to meet the boy who got her to smile again.”

Your dad, naturally, was suspicious. That was his thing. You expected it.

He gave Seung-hyun a firm handshake and a tight-lipped nod, then proceeded to grill him over dinner like they were on Meet the Press.

“What are your plans after graduation?”

“How do you feel about long-distance relationships?”

“Do you believe in marriage?”

You nearly choked on your mashed potatoes.

But Seung-hyun answered every question with calm sincerity, never once flinching. “I just want to keep building a life with her,” he said simply, looking at you with that same soft gaze he always gave you when you weren’t looking.

And for the first time in a long time, you saw your dad’s expression soften.

That night, Seung-hyun slept in the guest room, like the Good Boyfriend he was. You curled up in your childhood bed and texted him from down the hall.

u alive?

seunghyun: Barely. Your dad scares me more than finals.

He likes u. I can tell. He only asks about politics when he’s trying to be intimidating

seunghyun: Oh, thank god. I thought he wanted to duel me

You laughed quietly under the covers.

Then your phone buzzed again:

seunghyun: Wish I was with u rn now.

Me too.

You stared at the screen for a long time before sending one more,

Come sneak in

It took him exactly three minutes.

The door creaked open and shut again. Your bed dipped under his weight. His arms found you instantly in the dark, and you melted into him like muscle memory.

“Hi,” you whispered.

“Hi,” he breathed, lips brushing your hair.

You kissed like you had all the time in the world—no urgency, just mouths meeting slowly, hands sliding under sweaters, skin warming against flannel sheets and childhood nostalgia.

He moved over you carefully, reverently, like he was touching something sacred.

And when he sank into you, you bit your lip to stay quiet, fingers clutching his shoulders, his name caught in your throat like a hymn.

You made love like it meant forever.

In the morning, you both pretended he hadn’t been in your bed. But your mom smirked into her coffee mug, and your dad raised an eyebrow when Seung-hyun yawned at breakfast, wearing the hoodie he had stolen from you.

Later that day, your dad pulled you aside while Seung-hyun helped bring in groceries.

“He’s good,” he said simply. “You look like yourself again.”

You blinked, surprised. “Thanks, Dad.”

“And if he hurts you-”

“I know,” you said, smiling. “You’ll kill him.”

“Damn right.”

That night, Seung-hyun sat with you on the couch, arm around your shoulders, your feet tucked under his legs. Home Alone played on the TV while snow dusted the window outside.

He pressed a kiss to your temple. “I think I’m gonna like coming here every year.”

You looked up at him, heart full.

“You better.”

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htaesan · 2 months ago

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　ᅠ 💬　ᅠ EGG-TUALLY IN LOVE WITH YOU 　　───　ᅠ ( han taesan )

　　　ᅠ 한태산 ⠀⠀◜◡◝ ⠀⠀𝒇 reader ⠀wc 2.3k ⠀ genre smau fluff attempted crack secret admirer university au ⠀ contains mentions of food profanities some ocs etc ⠀ tagging @a-dream-bookmark ,@/k-labels , @k-nets , @k-films , @sgz-net , @onedoornet

　　　ᅠ 05. i’m not good with words, but i’m good at songs and dribbling

A long exhale escapes Dongmin’s lips, the breeze swaying the trees around him. It’s like nature is sighing with him too—as everyone’s beloved autumn, the season of love, is going to be replaced by winter anytime soon. The dried leaves crunch underneath each step, heavy and therapeutic in some way.

He was taking a walk after his Sound Design midterm, hoping that the winds will blow away the thoughts that have been clogging his mind. It was nothing bad, Dongmin was just worried.

What if everything goes wrong, and you don’t like him at all?

What if he doesn’t meet your expectations?

What if he’s not good enough for you?

It’s hilarious, and Dongmin finds himself chuckling a bit. His past self wouldn’t ever feel this way—he wouldn’t allow it. But now, college had changed him, made him into someone who wasn’t at all afraid to achieve his dreams: his principles on love changed too.

“Dongmin?” your voice rings in his ears, and he immediately looks left and right, searching for the source of the voice.

You’re standing in front of him, bag saddled snugly by your shoulders. By the way your hair is clipped back, and the half empty coffee cup in your hand, it’s obvious that you had just completed a study session.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, and it makes Dongmin confused.

“I was taking a walk, seonbae.”

You laugh sheepishly. “Ahh, I see!”

Dongmin glances at the library behind you. “Did you just finish studying, seonbae?”

“Mhm,” you nod, and the rest of your words go unheard by Dongmin—too blinded by the beauty adorned by the soft smile on your lips.

He doesn’t get it—you’re barely doing anything, just talking about your study session, the corner of your eyes crinkling a little bit due to your smile pushing up your cheeks. But he’s mesmerised by your beauty more than anything else. Flowers of feelings bloom in his chest, and he finds himself smiling.

He doesn’t know what it is about you. Maybe it’s the way your smile doesn’t feel rehearsed and perfected, or the way you look at someone like you’re genuinely listening to each and every word they utter.

It’s weird—it’s rare for him to find someone that made him comfortable that easily, whether in a full-fledged conversation of teasing and laughter, or in silence. With you, none of these moments feel like he failed. Instead, it makes him feel full.

You’re talking, ranting about a psychology course that Dongmin has no idea about. But he watches you. He looks at you chuckling between your words, soft but unfiltered. You’re not loud, not too quiet either—you’re not the type of person that fills up every second with noise, but when you talk, people listen.

Dongmin listens.

Most of the time.

His chest tightens with some kind of feeling. He’s standing close to you—not exactly in front or beside you. Your presence makes him feel strangely at ease, like never before.

Your shadows collide into each other, and it reminds him of the line he’s been afraid to cross.

“Dongmin?” you say, waving a hand in front of his face. “Are you okay? Do you need to go to the clinic?”

Dongmin widens his eyes. “No! No, not at all, I’m not sick.”

“You weren’t listening, so I figured something was wrong,” you shrug.

“Wait– I’m sorry, seonbae! I got distracted—what were you saying…?” Dongmin rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

You shake your head slightly. “It doesn’t matter, just me ranting about the midterm I have tomorrow for Abnormal Psychology. Why were you distracted, anyway?”

Your question hits Dongmin like a splash of cold water to the face, and immediately, he says the first thing that comes to mind. “Pretty.”

“What?”

“You’re… pretty, seonbae.”

Your smile grows against your efforts of biting it back. “Really? Me?”

Dongmin nods firmly. “Yeah, of course.”

You chuckle, consciously aware of the way your cheeks are getting warmer. “You’re exaggerating.”

Dongmin looks like you’ve cursed him and his entire lineage.

“Exaggerating? Seonbae! Okay, let me list out the things that I find pretty about you. First–”

“Okay, okay!” you shriek, covering his mouth with your hands. His eyes widen, and once he gets quiet, you slowly remove your hands away. “Fine.”

Dongmin smiles cheekily. “I won, seonbae.”

Your face flushes, and the both of you erupt into harmonious laughter. Dongmin’s eyes naturally find yours, and once your gazes lock together, he’s at a loss of words.

Then, he feels it—a tug. That unfamiliar rush of adrenaline urging him to do something. It’s ridiculous and relentless, tugging at his chest.

It’s familiar in a way, he’s felt it during the countless times he picked up his phone to text you, and the times he ran over to the other side of campus just to give you some snacks he bought. But this time, it’s stronger. Sharper, more urgent. Like he has to do something now. For once, the fear of losing this chance with you outweighs the fear of being with someone new.

“Seonbae,” Dongmin begins, his voice quieter than he expected.

You turn to him, the look in your eyes warm and hopeful. A little scared, but you’re waiting.

“I-I’m not good at this. You know, the whole expressing myself thing?”

He pauses, but you don’t say anything. You smile softly, encouraging him to continue.

“I’m not good at saying the things I mean. Letting myself feel a lot of emotions,” he presses his hand against his heart, his pulse racing, “...here.”

A beat of silence settles between the two of you, but it doesn’t feel awkward. Instead, it’s gentle and golden, like the world is holding its breath with you both.

“But I’ll try my best with you, seonbae. I want to give you the best, even if I don’t know what I’m doing sometimes,” Dongmin concludes, his voice firm at the end. He looks at you directly in the eye now, determination blazing through his expression.

Slowly, you nod. “Okay,” you exhale, “sure, I like that.”

Your smile grows wider as you lock eye contact with the junior towering in front of you. Dongmin mirrors your smile, shy.

It makes your heart somersault.

“Hey, please don’t smile like that,” you joke, lightly smacking his arm.

Dongmin tilts his head a little. “Why, seonbae?”

You open your mouth to say the answer, but your heart is loud in your ears. Your words get stuck in your throat. “I-”

Another wave of courage washes through Dongmin. He leans towards you, grinning. “Seonbae, let’s go get dinner?”

You laugh. “You’re so brave, aren’t you?”

Dongmin stands up straight again, clearing his throat. “So…?”

“Of course. Let’s go.”

THE walk towards the restaurant Dongmin suggested is mostly tranquil. He swallows—he’s never felt relieved but terrified at the same time. But here he is, walking beside you under the orange glow of the sunset sky, towards a place that he passed by a million times but never thought it’d hold a meaning close to his heart.

It’s not a fancy spot—just a hotpot place that also happens to sell side dishes like tteokbokki, one of your favourite foods. No one’s taking pictures there, no candlelit dinners or dimmed chandeliers. Just rice bowls packed to the brim, warm broth, and the kind of food that you always loved.

It’s perfect.

On the other hand, you’re quite nervous yourself. You couldn’t look at Dongmin, so you did what your mind first thought of—talking to him about the most random things you could think of. You keep it lighthearted and simple; the kind of talk that flowed easily and made you feel less timid.

Dongmin’s responses are as random as the things you talk about too—an observation, nods and hums here and there, a question, and a dry comment that when you laughed, he looked guilty about it.

It’s odd that it’s easy. Somehow, being with this guy—who all your friends say has been your secret admirer for almost three years—is not as complicated as you thought it’d be.

When the two of you arrive there, Dongmin lets you take the lead. He merely observes and listens, letting you order whatever you want.

“Oh, Dongmin, what would you like to eat?” you ask.

Dongmin replies, almost too naturally. “Whatever you want, seonbae.”

The soft, just about shy smile that blooms instantly on your face makes his heart dance. He gives you a smile, trying to mirror your expression but awkwardly stopping halfway.

He can’t stop thinking about it, and you don’t even know.

You don’t know what he’s been quietly working on these past few weeks, cooped up in his room every chance he gets. How every note, every lyric, every single thing that he sees reminds him of you. Of every single moment he’s had with you, from the first day he saw you during his first day of freshman orientation.

Dongmin knows, he’s always best spoken in silence. Through actions, not through words. Through cords and lyrics he’s never let anyone hear.

Now, he wants you to hear.

“Seonbae,” he begins as soon as the waiter leaves. He catches your attention, causing you to look directly at him.

“Yeah?” you respond, your words more like a whisper.

You don’t know what to expect.

Dongmin reaches into his pocket, pulling out his earphones. You watch as he untangles the wire and plugs it into his phone. He searches through it for a second, before meeting your eyes once again.

He extends his hand, offering you the other end of his earphone.

Reluctant, you take it from him.

“What’s this?” you ask, putting the earphone in.

Dongmin places his phone on a table, thudding stiffly. “I’m not good with words, but I’m good with songs… and dribbling.”

He grins, and you break out of the nervous bubble too, unable to hold back a smile.

Silence.

“This is kinda embarrassing, but… seonbae, this… is for you.”

Then, he presses play.

“Don’t wither like a flower and be pretty forever,

Be my first and last forever,

So that I can always feel the heart flutter due to first love

So I can always tell you you’re beautiful

even after years have passed.”

You gulp, stealing a glance at Dongmin. He’s listening to the song too, eyes staring emptily down at the table, his fingers playing with the edge of his sleeves.

But from the corner of his eyes, unbeknownst to you, he’s observing you. He sees your stillness—not frozen, but you’re listening. Thoroughly listening, just like you always do.

“Your world doesn’t have a sense of reality,

Like the main character of a youth movie.

So I don’t even expect anything,

You just shine wherever you go, yeah

Everyday in my memory.”

The lyrics don’t dance around the feeling—they are the feeling.

Your heart beats loud in your ears, along with the melody of the song Dongmin wrote especially for you. You look up again, only realising now how close your face is to him.

You can’t pull away, despite how flushed you feel.

“Don’t wither like a flower and be pretty forever,

Be my first and last forever,

So that I can always feel the heart flutter due to first love

So I can always tell you you’re beautiful

even after years have passed.”

Dongmin meets your eyes, and the world comes to a stop.

It’s just you, him, and the song playing into your ears.

You don’t even realise how close the wired earphones bring the two of you together.

“So that I can say you’re beautiful,

So that I can say you’re beautiful.”

The song comes to an end, and silence envelops you both. It’s filled with something heavy. Something more. Something real.

“You… don’t have to say anything to this, seonbae,” Dongmin says, his voice quiet, “I just wanted to let you know, for once, what I truly feel about you.”

You smile—not the polite one you give to everyone else, not the polished, bubbly smile that you display to your friends and followers. You smile, and it comes from your heart. Genuine. Real. a sign that you’re finally taking the leap that you’ve been scared of.

“You wrote that for me, Dongmin?” you ask, breathy.

He nods slowly, uncertain of what to expect. “Yeah. I didn’t know… how else I’d say it.”

A pause comes in between his words, and you decide to slip in a tease to ease the mood. “Say what?” you jest, cheeky.

A small smile creeps up on Dongmin’s face, but it quickly dies down. He’s serious now. “I like you, Y/N seonbae.”

Hearing those words come from his own mouth, your grin immediately drops.

This is real.

“I know I’m younger, and probably the most awkward person you’ve ever met,” Dongmin continues his ramble, “but with you, I want to be the best. I want to be real with you, seonbae.”

Another pause.

You’re sure now, all of your doubts disappearing into thin air.

“Thank you, Dongmin,” you say, and your hand finds his across the table, gentle but certain. He freezes under the unexpected contact, but it takes him not long to melt under your touch. “And I’m glad you didn’t stay quiet, because I feel the same.”

Dongmin’s breath catches.

For once, he doesn’t need to analyze, overthink, or plan his next move.

He just sits there, the warmth of your hand grounding him, knowing he said what mattered—and that you heard him. You’re with him, and you truly, deeply understood him.

He returns your gesture, giving your hand a firm squeeze.

　　　ᅠ note ᅠ from ᅠ 𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈 ! ᅠ YEAH HEHEYYY GUYSS HOW DO WE FEEL ABOUT THIS CHAPTER >< i wrote this in one sitting so pls tell me if it is good or not ^^ i hope you guys enjoy this chapter and the smau so far!! also, here is the link to the song mentioned heheh. I LOVE IT SM!!!! and p.s. do NOT forget to stream no genre!!! i love this album(?) and my boys so much dont play

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀back to the the 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

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sweetieviktor · 10 months ago

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viktor x librarian! reader (headcanons + tiny scenarios) part 1

summary: how you've meet each other, when you feel in love and your first exchange of "i love you"s.

content warning: just tooth rotting fluff and cuteness between those two. :D

author notes: i know that sooo many people writed this same idea but i can't help it, it's just so cute and so good to write!! when i was writing, the words came almost instantly and gods, i love to write fluff so much!! oh, and today, when i was re-reading this with my friend i was thinking the whole time "damn i love him" ((and i was awoken until 3am yesterday trying to finish this one but i feel sleep and couldn't end it, but i finished it this morning and now, at night time, im posting in here! anyways, hope you guys like it. :) (there is more of this concept if you want to see it too! heres the link for part 2!)

» the moment the doors hang open, you turn to see who it is, and as you do so, the whole world stops.

» the prettiest man you've ever seen in your life just came into the library you work in. literally, the prettiest man.

» the way his fluffy hair falls around his face and his curious eyes keep looking at everything, scanning all corners of the room, every little thing he can, shining whenever he sees something he likes.

» and his boyish little smile, barely showing his teeth, that he was giving while talking to a furry someone just by his side.

“oh hi, dear friend!” waving, heimerdinger spoke, walking with tiny, fast steps in your direction, pausing when he was close to you. meanwhile the boy beside him was walking a little slower, his cane thudding softly against the floor.

he stopped near the yordle and looked at your face, giving a polite smile, offering to you his non-occupied hand, and you shaked it, giving him a smile of yours. “i’m viktor, heimerdinger's assistant. he said you could help me with some resources i might need, and i would very much appreciate any help your books could provide.”

“i hope you don't mind him coming here to do some researches, friend. he may come here often!” the yordle laughed, looking between the two of you and then walking away.

“ehhh.. so, do you have any books about-”

» basically, this is how you and viktor knew each other, through a friend in common. and, from this day on, he came to the library more and more often.

» at first, he just showed up, asked for a book you could provide and got out of the establishment. then, he tried to strike up a small talk with you whenever he was waiting for you to look up said books. now, he just straight up rants about any experiment he may be doing at the time.

» and if you're genuinely interested in his rant, he could go for hours just explaining every little detail to you, and he would love every second of it.

» because now he is a regular, you just analyze what he is up to in the most recent days and choose some books that might be useful to him, putting them in the drawer, below the reception desk. and when this happened for the first time he was almost flustered, because you cared enough to look up, sort and search for things that he didn't even asked for.

when you heard the door swing open, you looked at it's direction, smiling as you realized who it was. “hey, viktor! welcome again!” it was the third time this week he got to the library, looking for the same type of books, so you just worked a bit ahead this time. “i don't know if it is exactly what you need but i think that you could use these ones, they have some information you might like.”

“but i still didn't ask for anything..?” he stared at you with a puzzled face, trying to understand why you were giving him those.

“i just think it goes along with your research. also, i wanted to help.” you shrugged, smiling brightly at him.

and maybe this was when he thought for the first time “damn.. i might be in love.”

» after this, he always tried to stay closer to you, to say things you might like, to show you that he cared for you just as much as you cared for him.

» he even brought coffee (he got sweet milk for himself) and pastries for you both to share one day. and this was for sure one of the best excuses to transform a boring afternoon with no clients, into a lazy reading session, this, of course, until a client came and ruined the cutesy atmosphere between the two of you.

» of course he thought about asking you out before, but it was hard. he wasn't used to the feeling of love, of liking someone so deeply like this. so what could he do besides admire you everyday he was in your library? look at you with pure adoration, chuckle lightly whenever you said something that wasn't even that funny, and after it all just show you the most beautiful, bright and in love smile.

» he didn't like to belittle himself, but he really think you would be better with someone that wasn't him. you were so different, yet so alike him, it almost felt like it was meant to be.

» then, in one of his “oh, i will stay here for 15 more minutes and then i'll go home” times (that never lasted 15 minutes, to be honest), it was almost closing time, all of your coworkers were in their homes, no more clients in, simply, not a soul in there. only you both.

» you kept looking in his direction from afar, thinking to yourself how could you get someone so intelligent, so brilliant, so beautiful, so... him. you knew what you wanted, but again, it was hard. and, if saying your feelings out loud was way too scary, writing it all down seemed easier. so, you picked up a pen and a paper, writing in it everything that was inside your chest, your heart. you poured all your feelings into every word that you scribbled down.

» until you heard him packing up his stuff. you started to panic, and now there was only two options, leave the paper as it was and try to act neutral, or try to hide it and look even more nervous? well, there's no time to think! he was already in front of you while your head was spiraling nonstop.

“hey... you are fine? you look stressed.” he examined your face, tilting his head to the side, admiring every little feature of yours. your pretty eyes, your nose, your kissable lips...

“yes! i'm completely fine, no need to worry!” you put your hands on top of the little confession, smiling anxiously, hoping that he don't notice the sweet words you wrote down just for him.

“oh, what did you got there?” he looked at the paper, then at you, and back to paper. on a common day you would like to have his focus only on you, but it was making you even more nervous now, your stomach was turning itself, your hands were cold and trembling. and when he noticed it, he took your hand in his, and you could feel that he was shaking too. “hey... look,” he took a deep breath, almost like he didn't want to continue, like he was still choosing the right words to say. “i understand that some things we just want to keep them personal, only for ourselves. so, ehh, you don't have to show me what you wrote.”, he said with a nervous smile displayed on his lips, while caressing your knuckles with an almost feather-like touch, too afraid to ruin the moment and lose you right now.

and you didn't want to lose him too. even with your brain telling you that you shouldn't tell him, your heart knew you needed to say it, breaking itself or not. so it was now or never. “well... recently i've been thinking about our friendship, about what it could possibly be, about you.” you averted your gaze to the ground, wishing that you came up with fancier words and a better way to confess to him before it all, but you couldn't turn back now. “honestly i can't stop thinking about you, it's like you consumed every logical thought in my brain, everything that wasn't... you.” finally you looked at his eyes, just to see he already looking at you, eyes finally shining for you, because of you. “i love you, viktor. with everything in me, i really love you.” it seemed so right to say these three little words to him, to let him know how you felt since the first time you've seen him.

“and i love you too.” he came closer to you, still with his hand on yours, but now holding it gently, intertwining your fingers together, pressing quickly his lips in yours, smiling in pure awe, completely lovestruck after it. “i love you more than anything, my little star.”

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rikudaa · 2 months ago

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༉‧₊˚Blue Paint and Binary

Tim Drake/Red Robin x Reader | Part 1. >>>

ღA/N: I haven’t finished the Jason’s one yet but already started on Tim, I don’t have any excuse your honor. Dividers are made by @cafekitsune ! Also there’s a familiar name, I wonder why it’s there👀

Note: This is a Yandere story but for the start off the chapter it’s just a life of being student in university. You’re an art major with a psychology focus, and he’s in another major likely something strategic, analytical, or tech-heavy. Academic rivals are ruled.

No gender mention for reader, just “You” and “Y/N”. Enjoy!

You see him again.

Fourth time this week. Fifth if you count the reflection in the library window Monday night, where he didn’t notice you watching him stalk through the neuroscience wing like he had a hitlist tucked in his backpack. He probably did. Probably alphabetized, color-coded, timestamped. You don’t know what his major is, exactly. You just know it involves enough data and silence to make your teeth itch.

You’re not even sure how it started, this thing between you.

Maybe it was the day he tore down your entire color-theory thesis in front of the honors seminar like you hadn’t poured eight weeks of insomnia into it. Or maybe it was when you psychoanalyzed the subtle ways he corrects professors, like he’s trying not to challenge their authority outright. A boy raised in the shadows, needing to be smarter than the room but invisible at the same time.

He hated that.

You liked that he hated that.

It made things interesting.

Now you both sit two rows apart in the interdisciplinary lecture you don’t need, but keep taking anyway. You, because it fulfills a loose psych elective. Him, because–well, you’re still figuring that out. You suspect it’s just to keep an eye on you.

His laptop is open. Of course. Always typing, even when the professor is off-topic or ranting about Kantian frameworks like anyone in this generation gives a damn. You sketch while he types. His fingers never pause. Neither does your pencil.

You don’t know what he’s writing. He doesn’t know you’re drawing him. (He probably does)

Sometimes you wonder what it’d be like if you weren’t circling each other like dogs bred for war. If you weren’t two kids with too many ghosts and not enough peace. If you weren’t chasing two versions of control in different languages–his clean, hard logic versus your bleeding, beautiful chaos.

“Drake,” you mutter when he passes by your table at the campus café.

He looks up. Neutral expression, polite voice.

“Y/N.”

The way he says your name–it’s never soft. Like it’s a task. Like he’s filing you under ‘problems to solve later.’

You sip your coffee. He doesn’t sit, but he also doesn’t leave.

“I heard you’re presenting at the symposium next month,” he says. Tone clipped. “Didn’t think postmodern expressionism was ready for prime time.”

You smile over the rim of your cup. “I didn’t think future CIA agents attended art showcases.”

His lip twitches. A crack in the porcelain. You almost write that down. Instead, you offer a shrug.

“It’s about trauma translation in visual mediums,” you say casually. “Memory distortion in painted narratives. Thought you’d be into that, don’t you guys love poking at trauma?”

“I don’t poke,” he says. “I dissect.”

“Wow. That supposed to impress me?”

“No,” he says. “But I’m guessing that’s your default response to feeling threatened.”

You narrow your eyes. “I’m not threatened.”

“Sure.”

You hate that you want to throw your coffee at him and kiss him at the same time.

There’s no label for what you two are. You share a dozen classes. Compete for the same awards. Sit on the same late-night panels when professors need overachievers to flex for alumni donors.

You’ve even been grouped for the occasional cross-discipline project where you talk, and he listens, and then he talks, and you sketch the slope of his mouth when he forgets he’s performing.

Sometimes you work in silence for hours.

Sometimes you fight.

Sometimes you wonder what he dreams about when he forgets to pretend he doesn’t dream.

You catch him reading your analysis paper once. The one you left out in the shared research lab. He doesn’t know you’re watching from the stairwell. He reads it twice.

You never mention it.

Weeks pass. You win the campus-wide art grant. He wins the dean’s medallion. You both pretend not to care about the other’s win, but neither of you stop looking. Comparing. Weighing.

During one particularly brutal review, your advisor calls your piece “Catharsis in Crimson” emotionally erratic.

You leave class furious, chalk-stained fingers clenching your coat.

Tim’s outside already, leaning against the wall like he’d been waiting. You scowl.

“If you came to gloat–”

“I liked it.”

You blink.

“What?”

“I liked your piece,” he says. “The one they tore apart.”

Your voice is smaller than you want. “You don’t get to say that.”

“I know.” He nods. “But I’m saying it anyway.”

It’s quiet for a beat. You look at the sky to avoid looking at his face. The clouds are heavy and gray and stubborn. You think, Maybe we’re like that too.

“I don’t know what we are,” you admit.

Tim exhales slowly. “Neither do I.”

You laugh softly but the bitterness already etched on your tongue.

“Must drive you crazy. Not knowing.”

“It does,” he says. “You’re an outlier. I don’t have a model for you.”

You look at him then. Really look. There’s something honest in the way his hands curl at his sides. Something tired in the slouch of his shoulders, like he’s been fighting a war no one sees.

“I could say the same.”

“I know.”

And there it is again. The space between you, small and sharp and unbearably loud.

You don’t touch. You don’t cross the line.

But you both know it’s there.

Waiting.

Next up: Observe and Detach | Part 1. >>>

#dcu #dc x reader #tim drake x reader #tim drake #riku’s writing #tim drake x you #tim drake x y/n #no beta we die like jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere #yandere x reader #red robin #red robin x reader #red robin x you #red robin x y/n

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gilmorenights · 4 months ago

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Something To Believe In from Newsies is so New Memories/Varigo coded istg

“The world finds ways to sting you, and then one day decides to bring you something to believe in, for even a night” LITERALLY THEM??? I feel like l don’t even need to explain how this perfectly corresponds with how they’ve been hurt beyond words in the past and how they’re each other’s one good thing, the one thing in the world that makes them go “hey maybe life isn’t so shitty�� even if it’s not meant to last forever, even if it’s supposed to come to an end when they get to the Eternal Library.

“One night may be forever, but that’s alright” Basically just going with what I said above about it being a temporary thing

“Just someone sweet passing by, an angel come to save me who didn't even know she gave me something to believe in, for even a day” It’s literally Hugo-coded you guys, trust. The lyrics show how he perceived Varian as just a random means to an end at the beginning of the journey but as they got to grow closer, Varian unknowingly gave Hugo a reason to believe that there is good in the world, that there are good people, and that people can change. Which are (in my opinion) some of the most important values Hugo learns that contribute to his character development.

And then obviously “I have something to believe in, now that I know you believed in me” sums everything up perfectly. Them believing in each other means everything. Varian placed his trust in Hugo, despite struggling with it immensely, which in turn flipped Hugo’s world upside down. Him placing that trust in Hugo- this delicate, vital thing that Varian has trouble with giving to anyone else- gave Hugo a reason to start to believe in good things. They became each other’s reason to trust again, to love again. And that’s because they were able to see each other’s flaws and love each other anyway. They quite literally gave each other something to believe in.

This was lowkey all over the place but I feel like I can’t properly put into words how much “you gave me something to believe in now that I know you believed in me” relates to them and how much this take means to me (I will die on this hill) which is probably why it’s not super articulate, but you guys get what I’m trying to say. Hopefully 😭

Long story short, it’s just so them

Anyway thanks for coming to my rant sesh 🫡

#this is what happens when you let me watch newsies for the 1000th time #my new hobby is listening to music and picking apart the lyrics to make them fit varian and hugo #i genuinely love them so so much though #vat7k #hugo vat7k #varigo #varian and the seven kingdoms #varian the alchemist #hugo rottewange #vat7k new memories #riley rambles

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metalomagnetic · 10 months ago

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So do Sirius’s kids turn out to be less ignorant and have a better understanding of muggle culture? Especially because of Nymphadora’s influence (due to her Muggleborn father). Like would they show an interest in the public library go to concerts (like their dad did) and while I do understand that they’re being raised by the pureblood equivalent of Nazis basically (Bellatrix, Lucius and unfortunately to a lesser extent, Sirius), do the kinds end up not-so-bigoted or less likely to dehumanise muggles and Muggleborns as they grow up, go to Hogwarts and stop parroting their parents?

Do you think the way Sirius grew up to realise the ideology behind Grindelwald was wrong, Sirius’ children would also realise that their family members were the extremely powerful and rich aggressors who were out torturing and killing people for no reason? Would Sirius ever even allude to his children that- that their aunt Bellatrix, uncle Lucius, all the adults there grew up around tortured and killed people simply because they wanted to?- that there was never any greater purpose to it since they wrote already at the apex of their society.

We saw that Sirius tells Harry a sanitised and falsified version of this- to atleast make it seem like it was war and not simply terrorism and that the murder of Harry’s parents had meaning. But as Harry and his sibling get older, do they get told or just realise the truth? Especially because Nymphadora already understands/knows the truth atleast subconsciously- she just doesn’t wanna acknowledge it - will Sirius’ children be the same?

Will Sirius ever mull on the fact that his beloved Bellatrix is a terrorist - who killed people only for her enjoyment? Or will he excuse beloved Bella, the way he did when she murdered Marlene and her family?

This aspect of the story is truly so dark- the parts where Sirius is grappling with the fact that his family is out here killing and torturing people with no remorse in order to “avenge” Evan when them and their pointless terrorism is the reason his death occurred in the first place, as well as his own pureblood anger over Evan’s death. It’s great. You’re great. The way you weave all these conflicting thoughts into Sirius’ psyche is just amazing.

I also love how in the later chapters, Sirius slowly reconciles with the fact that he is not as good a person as he wishes he was and his moral code- of harming a hundredfold whoever harms him or his. I also like to think that Sirius is probably the kindest and most (open minded? liberal?) accepting Head of House and that he probably wouldn’t go murder a Muggleborn prime minister or hinder their career needlessly out of sheer hatred and prejudice lmao.

Also when I’m reading your fic I keep hoping the kids turn out better because of the kind of father Sirius is- As in his kid’s believe their dad helps whoever he can help and they grow up to emulate that or sm.

Anyway, if you’ve actually read my rant till the end, my apologies. I just can’t get IRITB out of mind T T

Like Sirius before them, his sons will realise who started the war, and that it wasn't fair, nor just. It's not a matter of ignorance here.

They're all trapped in a vicious circle where they know they're not great people, but they don't aim (nor were they raised) to be good people. They want to maintain what they are used to, they were told to 'protect' their family and their position, by whatever means necessary. So they will act when they feel threatened, even if the threat might not be real, only perceived.

Sirius knows he's not a good man, and he made peace with it. He still tries his best not to be the most horrible version of himself, he can still emphastise with others, and tries not to cause harm unnecessarily, but especially now that he has children, he would burn the entire world if he thinks his sons are in any danger, physical danger or just social danger.

Sirius does has inherent bias, and he's somewhat aware of his bigotry. He recognises it's not based in reality, but he can't help but feel that way. He isn't violent in his bigotry, he has no issues befriending muggles or muggleborns, or werewolves or vampires, he helps them if it doesn't inconvenience him, he wishes there was this utopia where they could all live in peace. But when push comes to shove, he'll chose 'his own' people, and he does believe wizard are superior to muggles (though he doesn't think purebloods are superior to muggleborns) and that, as a Black, his bloodline is better than anyone else's (including Lestrange or Malfoy. This isn't about pureblood supremacy, but Black supremacy. He takes extreme pride in his family, even if he knows they're crazy and often wrong in their attitudes).

Of course, Sirius is much less bigoted than his father has been, and OG Orion was less bigoted than his own father. Arcturus was more tolerant than his own father. They do 'evolve' with the times, just very, very slowly.

Sirius' sons were exposed to muggles by their father, but they were also exposed to muggle hate by their mother and virtually everyone else around them, and also Sirius' indifference when someone badmouths muggles.

Orion will never have issues eating muggle food or using muggle inventions, or listening to muggle music. He likes many muggle things, he thinks some are better than magical equivalents, but he'll always feel most comfortable where he was raised- in the magical world. He doesn't think muggles are animals, he is all too aware muggles are just as human and just as intelligent as wizards, however they don't have the same power as wizards, so they will never be equal. He, like Sirius, believes muggleborns are just as magical as purebloods, and they have the same right to practice magic. However, unlike Sirius, he thinks purebloods are 'stronger' than muggleborns by default. He believes the magical power is in the bloodline, and while muggleborns are obviously magical, their 'power' has been diluted by muggle interference. (Both Astrid and Arcturus are to blame for this).

Marvolo is less tolerant than Orion, but less vocal about it, too.

Both boys are raised to maintain the Black way, to represent the Black family, to 'hold the fort' and perpetuate their traditions, because they are the future of the family.

Yet neither is as hateful as Walburga or Astrid or Regulus, specifically because Sirius took them to muggle London often, they were raised with Harry and Dora, and they were also forced to play with Mary's daughters, whom they ended up liking.

Helix is the luckiest; being the third son, there's not such pressure on him, seeing as his chances of one day becoming Head of House are very slim. So no one bothers to indoctrinate him quite as thoroughly. He was born after Arcturus died, so he escaped his influence entirely. From all of them, Helix will be the most chill about blood purity, the most likely to make muggleborn friends on his own, the one to bring back home muggle items and get away with it because he's the baby of the fam and he can do no wrong. However, he is still raised to take pride in his bloodline, so he has that Black excellency mind set, too.

Overall, I would say at least the boys have no issues with half-bloods, because this was where Sirius made the most effort; he was determined to protect Harry, so none of his sons hold inherent prejudice against half-bloods, especially half-bloods raised by wizards. Dora, to them, is as Black as the rest, and they don't care at all her father is a muggleborn. She has Black blood and that's all that matters. Orion wouldn't hesitate to put her on the family tree.

If someone told them half-bloods are less magical, they'll call that person an idiot. If someone told them Harry, specifically, is less magical than a pureblood, they would beat the shit out of that person. However, they are aware Harry is not a Black. Orion wouldn't put Harry on the family tree.

Muggles are a threat to them, not on an individual level, but on a gender scale. Muggles wouldn't react well if they find out about wizards, as we all know. Set aside the religious aspect that would make muggles go crazy, but also the fear factor- let's be real, none of us would be too happy to know there are wizards around that can erase our memory, control us with the Imperius etc. We would not feel comfortable knowing there are eleven year olds out there that are handed a weapon of mass destruction. No muggle army would love the thought a 14 year old kid could potential annihilate an entire batalion of muggles with a wave of his wand.

All wizards, including muggleborns, believe muggles would react violently towards the magical world, if they ever discovered it.

So, to Orion, and Sirius, and Lucius, and Harry, and even Dumbledore, they do understand the inherent threat muggles pose.

They will always keep their distance, and Orion, like all Blacks before him since the inquisition, will think muggles as a whole are dangerous to their community, but on an individual level they can be fine. But, in his option, best not to mix with them, lessen the odds of discovery.

#it runs in the blood

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