#are these two a thing and ive been oblivious to it?

[isaacathom]

shaking my two ocs in the scifi story like dolls. they should kiss.

[leilanihours]

Hi! Could you do a Nika fic where we surprise her at one of her games in Seattle then we join her for when she signs autographs for fans?

# STEAL MY GIRL

pairing: nika muhl x reader

word count: 1750

warnings: barely suggestive idk..

summary: even in a sea of nika's most supportive fans, you always stand out the most.

⭑ from lani: fuck writers block bc im tryna finish the two paige and nika fics that ive been teasing but i literally cant for some reason someone punch me in my gut pls! anyways enjoy this short oneshot for ml nika <3

masterlist !

THE ENTIRE ARENA was booming with pride, excitement, and energy as the buzzer signaled the end of the game. the seattle storm had beaten the dallas wings 98-85 here at climate pledge arena. the game sold out completely and still had tons of viewers watching on streaming. the whole night had been amazing - both for the reputation of women’s basketball and for you personally. 

your girlfriend, nika muhl, had been having some struggles with her visa, which resulted in her not being able to play for most of the games at the start of the regular season. whenever the storm had a game, you could see the frustration hidden on her face despite still showing up for her teammates and cheering them on. that’s just the person she was. she was caring and supportive through it all, but was also a fan favorite.

when word got out that she wouldn’t be able to play until she got sorted out, fans shared her irritation. they believed that the wnba should be better at handling these types of things, especially as they work toward expanding the franchise.

after nika’s incredible collegiate career at uconn, many viewers fell in love with every aspect of her - on and off the court. her powerful defense, striking offense, and electric motivation. also her selfless tendencies, bubbly humor, and magnetic personality.

you were one of those viewers. as a huge fan of women’s basketball, you naturally had to show your passion at every single home game the huskies would play. your booming cheers and echoing chants often caught the attention of the players - but specifically nika.

there was one game they played against syracuse where nika scored a deep three-pointer and gained the lead against them, and let’s just say you were not quiet about it. the second the ball fell in the net, you were screaming your lungs out and pumping your fists.

having being sat relatively close to the floor (just above the courtside seats) nika noticed you almost immediately. she was drawn to you and couldn’t help but smile brightly at your actions.

she knew she had to meet you and thank you for your support, so after the game where the team took pictures and gave out autographs, she took the opportunity to shoot her shot - literally and figuratively.

whenever the two of you tell this story, you warn the listeners of how cheesy it is because it is cheesy. you laugh when you tell this part of this story as your girlfriend blushes.

you didn’t have anything to ask the girls to sign, so you simply smiled watching their interactions. as nika gradually made her way closer to where you were standing with your friend, she saw that you were focused on your phone, head tilted down. however, she wouldn’t give up that easily, so she asked paige to throw her one of the mini basketballs they were giving out. she made eye contact with your friend, pointing to your oblivious state as to signal for her to get your attention. 

when your friend practically shoved your shoulder, you questioned her sudden aggression. you were confused before she pointed to below, right at nika. she knew that she was your favorite player so she had to make sure whatever this plan was, was executed perfectly. you locked eyes with the beautiful brunette before slightly furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

quickly, nika wrote down her number, a small note, and signed her name before throwing the ball in your direction. you caught it (surprisingly) and observed the basketball player’s nervous smile.

you tilted your head in confusion before she pointed to the ball in your hands and made a pretend phone with her hand. when you looked down at what she wrote on the ball, your jaw was practically on the floor.

“to my biggest fan - saw you cheering earlier and wanted to say thank you

care to show your support another way?”

just below the short note was a set of digits, presumably her phone number. you internally screamed at the whole interaction, especially now because all you did in that moment was nod with a stupid smile.

and even after three years of talking with nika privately and eventually becoming romantically involved with her, you were still her biggest fan. the media saw it during the entire march madness tournament, at the wnba draft, and now the wnba season.

but there was one minor problem…you were pursuing your major at grad school in connecticut, meaning you were thousands of miles away from nika. navigating a long-distance relationship was definitely hard and had its bumps. regardless, you promised to be there for each other every step of the way. just because you lived on opposite sides of the country didn’t mean you stopped loving each other.

which leads us to now, at a seattle storm home game - one that was just won with the help of your talented girlfriend who actually isn’t aware of your presence at the moment. you had a few weeks before classes start up again, and you decided you wanted to surprise nika at her game. after checking both of your schedules, you booked the flight, bought the tickets, and started packing.

you were joined by one of your close friends and nika’s former teammate, paige bueckers. she knew about your private relationship with the brunette and was practically the captain of the ship fully supported it, which is one of the reasons she wanted to come with you.

the two of you were spotted as soon as you stepped foot onto the arena’s property. while paige was recognized for her own basketball career, you were recognized for being one of the team’s closest friends, as seen in their lives, tiktoks, and photo dumps. 

less than ten minutes after you guys arrived at the venue, the internet was going crazy at the unexpected visit. normally you would’ve been concerned by the attention, as you didn’t want to ruin the surprise for your girlfriend, but you knew that she doesn’t go on her phone before a game, so you were covered.

as you stood next to paige in your seats, you were practically jumping with excitement. it had been weeks since you had seen nika in person, so the thought of being able to kiss her face, hold her hand, and wrap your arms around her undoubtedly made you giddy.

“yo, are you good?” paige laughs as she sees you smiling to yourself.

“yeah i’m just excited, man, i haven’t seen her in so long.”

“you nervous?”

“a little,” you start, “but the plan isn’t that complicated so hopefully i don’t fuck it up.”

“you should prolly get on that plan, like, right now.”

you watch as the seattle girls make their way towards the people in the stands with markers in their hands. that was your cue for you and paige to make your way down to the first row.

you had informed seattle’s coach of your idea and she was automatically on board. she told you that she would have you stand at the end of the first row so that nika had easy access to you but would also be surprised.

as you spotted your favorite brunette making her way down the row through wholesome fan interactions, you prepare her jersey in your hands for her to sign. you had no idea how she would react or what she would say, all you knew was that you couldn’t wait any longer to be in her arms again.

she is now signing the poster of the fans to your left and has yet to notice you. you smile feverishly at her beaming joy as she interacts with her fans. you can’t contain your excitement when she has finally made her way to you.

you had a whole ass pickup line planned out for her but you were too caught up in your head to go through with it (probably for the better) so all you could get out was a “hi, nika” with the widest grin ever.

her eyes shoot up to yours as soon as she recognizes your voice - the same voice that has comforted her through her best and worst, coaxed her into relaxation, and become her safe space.

“Y/N! OH MY GOD,” she practically screams as she throws her arms around your neck, “how are you here right now??”

“do you really think i have enough self control to stay across the country when i could easily be here with you?” you laugh, hands grabbing her waist as you bury your head in her neck and inhale her comforting scent.

“fuck, y/n, i’ve missed you so much, my love,” she says into your hair, placing a delicate kiss there. at this point, the fans around you two had started recording the reunion, along with paige and the rest of nika’s teammates. you wouldn’t hear the end of it tomorrow, but here in each other's embraces, neither of you could care less.

“i missed you too, angel. been waiting so long to see you,” you sigh in content before you pull away to plant a sweet kiss on her forehead, “you did so good out there tonight, i’m so proud of you, nika.”

“thank you, baby,” she smiles genuinely, “probably because you were in the audience.”

“but you didn’t even know i was here,” you giggle.

“yeah whatever,” she responds. she goes in for another hug but is stopped.

“wait! you still need to sign my jersey!” you exclaim, holding up the yellow and green shirt.

“really, y/n?” she deadpans jokingly.

“yes, really. i didn’t come all this way just to not get an autograph from my favorite player,” you wink.

“alright fine,” she says before taking the jersey and splaying it against your upper body to write on. she uncovers the sharpie in her hand using her teeth (an action that definitely did not make your knees buckle) before beginning to sign it. her head is lowered close to your chest for a good thirty seconds while she gets to work but you have no idea what she’s writing. “there, all done.”

she takes the jersey from your grasp and holds it up so you can see it. her note has you shaking your head and smiling immensely.

“to my biggest fan - saw you cheering one day and now wanted to say i love you so much

care to let me show you how much?”

— leilani signing off ! 📁

[drdemonprince]

I routinely forget that periods exist, and its only been like two years since I stopped having them.

The whole concept of them and all the planning and the contingencies involved are just, swoosh, out of my mind. im only reminded that periods are a thing every couple of months or so when one friend or another is in pain and brings the subject up. a friend asked me about how my periods were recently and i was shocked not that she believed i still had them, but that i had ever been a person who'd had them at all.

Multiple friends of mine have gotten hysterectomies this past year, some after long waiting periods, and its got me remembering that my high school debate coach told me getting one was the single best decision of her life. Ive wondered to myself a few times what all the advantages of it are, beyond the obvious prevention of pregnancy piece, and it honestly took me months of thinkkng to remember that oh, oh yeah, right, some people have periods and some periods really hurt and for some people that is probably a factor.

periods are such a non issue for me i forget about what a massive toll they can take on many other peoples lives. and im only a month post op from top surgery, but i can tell its gonna be the same thing w having tits. im gonna forget how much pain and hassle and work it all was.

and I share this because it shows just how mutable human beings are, and how changeable privilege is.

if i can forget about the existence of a bothersome and dysphoric experience i had every month for decades within a matter of two years -- so much so that i forget other people still have to deal with periods -- then someone who grew up poor but now is rich cant ever be trusted to remember what poverty is like. an adult cant be trusted to remember the fear and powerlessness of being a kid. and a trans man can very much be oblivious to sexism and to the lived experience of being a woman, no matter his prior experience, because that is what privilege does to you once youve got it. it clouds over all the worries you no longer have to think about, separating your perspective from that of all the people that do still have to.

and idk, i think thats important for people to remember. no matter what youve lived in the past, if you get a little money, a little privilege, a little power, it changes you, and it makes you stop worrying about many things, and it makes you oblivious.

[trappolia]

DEUCE SPADE ── hot things he does for you

i. runs a hand through his hair and curses like a sailor when an algebra problem has been bothering him for too long. it messes up all his hard work in maintaining his appearance from this morning, but he’s far too upset to care. this goes for any moment of frustration for him too. sometimes his hair is so messy, you can catch the few strands of faded blond that he had failed to cover up when he dyed his hair before nrc, like the hints of his delinquent past are peeking through in more ways than one. there’s a frustrated look in his eyes that you’re a little guilty to admit you’re attracted to, and the way he spits out words definitely unexpected from an honour student makes your heart race in the strangest way … though, if you try catch his attention, he’s back to the deuce you know ─ wide doe eyes and a little lost. it makes your head spin, in the best way.

ii. takes your bags or anything that looks like it weighs more than necessary and carries them from you without even asking. most of the time this happens mid-conversation, like when he catches up with you at the hallway on your way to your next class. you’d engage in casual conversation, and suddenly he’s gently taking the straps of your bag and tugging it out of your hands, holding it in your stead while never breaking eye contact as he listens to you ramble about crewel's last lecture. and if you hold out your hand for him to give back your bag, he might just flush a little bit red and move your bag to his other side hastily, intertwining your fingers with his as he tugs you along gently to continue your journey, like he'd rather "embarrass himself" by pulling such a bold move rather than letting you carry your own stuff.

iii. always asks if it’s okay to kiss you. you’re sure than a decade could pass by, and he’d still be just as shy when it comes to kissing you. even when you give him your permission, he starts off with a shy brush of his lips against your own, a little peck or two, before diving back for more. he’ll ask every single time too. "are you sure? is it okay? can i really kiss you?" you’re not sure if your heart is pounding because of his lovely consideration of you or the fact that he can never find it in himself to stop asking for more once you let him have it the first time.

iv. starts bringing along his old leather jacket for you when you visit his hometown in the early spring or autumn. he says he brings it just in case you get cold, but you’re not oblivious enough that you don’t notice how the street punks keep their distance after doing a double take when they see you clad in the deuce spade’s leather jacket– some of them even offer their help with your groceries without being asked. it’s sort of funny and actually rather helpful in keeping out of trouble, but at the end of the day, you realise that deuce doesn’t see draping his old leather jacket over your shoulders as an act of possessiveness, but rather a way to keep you safe and protected in a subtle way. somehow, that sends your heart racing even more than the thought of him being possessive over you.

v. has an entire section of notes in his phone dedicated to you; like his regular school notes, messy and disorganised, but they’re filled with everything you could imagine. general things you like, little details of his day that reminded him of you, songs to put in playlists for you, and even pictures of stuff that you looked at while you were grocery shopping together. it’s complete with little observations and notes like they like to have the window seat but don’t want to bother people by asking, so let them board first so they can take it for themselves or they seem to like this type of snacks. maybe ask mom to send some of that one brand from the store back home in her next package. it’s the little but dedicated actions that show how much he really cares for you.

© trappolia 2024

[mitschki]

telling genshin men they attract alot of attention from women

diluc, zhongli

diluc

"you have quite the charisma, diluc." you grin, one hand resting against your cheek and the other tapping on the table you lean against. gazing at the man in front of you, sitting at his desk shuffling papers as he glances up, lightly scoffing at your words as he pauses his actions.

"that is an odd way to start the conversation. what prompts you to say that?" he raises a brow, watching as your grin widens at his response. you were highly amused by how unaware this man was. diluc was undeniably handsome and moreover, wealthy. you would often notice the glares from women whenever you two go out together.

"i am merely telling you, with no ill intentions behind my words." you smile as you watch the man rub his temples with a heavy sigh, clearly oblivious of the subtle pink tint in his ears.

"are you referring to the woman who sells flowers? are you perhaps upset by this?" he glances at you with a frown, observing the way you shake your head at his inquiry.

"not at all." you softly hum, tracing your fingers along the papers on his desk, "who am i to deny my boyfriend's sexy aura?" you grin as his frown deepens at your choice of words.

"whatever amuses you." he mutters, "though i must say, i am a bit.. flattered by this conversation."

zhongli

“you are quite the catch for women.” you softly hum, gazing down at the tea you were pouring, unaware of the way your partner lightly chokes on his drink. he quickly composes himself, clearing his throat as he gazes up at you.

“that is rather.. a bold assertion.” zhongli furrows his brow as he looks at you. you smile, meeting his gaze as you rest your hand on your hip.

“is it? considering the long years you have lived as the geo archon, i thought you’d be used to that by now.” you cheekily grin, amused by the subtle flush on his cheeks.

“indeed, i have heard such things before, but never so bluntly.” the man clears his throat again as you chuckle at his response.

“you are flustered.”

“the subject of our conversation elicits a reaction i am quite unaccustomed to.” he murmurs.

note: wow im actually not dead!! ive been so into playing idv recently im returning to that no life pandemic phase

[seongwars]

forget me not | iv

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x witch!Reader AU: non-idol | supernatural Summary: Yunho should be happy--he's got everything going for him and he's set to marry the love of his life! So why is he standing outside of your shop on the night of his engagement party? Word Count: 7.5K (my bad) Warnings: infidelity, use of the k word

Fic Masterlist

a/n: my stitches reopened and I had to go back and get restitched 😬 so I spent all day in bed editing this chapter. i love reading everyone's theories and feedback is always welcome!

The first time Haewon saw Yunho, it was at your dorm during a study session. You were both surrounded by books, notes, and various pieces of stationary scattered across the floor. While you were focusing on writing out your note cards, Haewon was dancing around the room in an attempt to “activate her brain cells”. 

She had been caught up in her own world until the sound of a knock interrupted her antics. You stood up to answer the door, and a low voice followed, mingled with a chuckle—deep, familiar, and warm.

Yunho.

He was your best friend, someone she’d heard about but hadn’t paid much attention to. But that day, something was different. He sat with a pile of books and a look of quiet concentration that intrigued her. His presence was magnetic, though subtle, and without realizing it, Haewon found herself sneaking glances at him, captivated by the calm determination in his demeanor.

She wasn’t sure when it happened exactly, but at some point, between stolen glances and shared laughter over late-night group study sessions, she started to fall for him. Yunho was kind, always the first to offer a helping hand, and his dedication to his friends and family was unwavering. He had a way of making everyone feel valued and heard.

And when he asked her to be his girlfriend, she was over the moon. 

"Did you know Yunho was going to ask me out?" she beamed, her voice laced with an excitement that made your heart sink.

You froze for a second, your pencil hovering above the page. There was a flicker of something—disappointment, maybe even hurt—but you quickly swallowed it down. 

"Maybe," you muttered, your voice light, almost teasing, though it took everything in you to keep it that way. Haewon didn’t see the way your grip tightened on the pencil, or how your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes.

"I can’t believe it," she gushed, oblivious to the turmoil behind your composed expression. "I mean, I’ve liked him for a while now, and I wasn’t sure if he felt the same way, but when he asked me…God, it was perfect."

"That’s great, Haewon" you said, your voice quieter than before, trying desperately to sound convincing. 

You fell in love with the way Yunho truly saw you, even when you tried to hide parts of yourself. He understood you in ways no one else ever had, knowing your fears, your dreams, and all the things that made you tick. Somewhere along the line, you stopped worrying about what he would think of you because with Yunho, you never had to pretend.

That’s when you knew you loved him—because the idea of life without him didn’t feel like life at all.

But how could you tell him? You weren’t like Haewon—bold and unafraid, able to voice her feelings as if vulnerability wasn’t terrifying. She was all confidence and ease, speaking her mind without a second thought, while you were cautious, overthinking, content to blend into the background.

Telling Yunho how you felt would mean stepping into the unknown. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing him if things went wrong. So you stayed silent, burying your feelings deep, hoping that somehow, you could protect what you had by keeping your secret. 

But things went wrong anyway.

You tried not to not let their relationship affect you, told yourself you were happy for them. Haewon and Yunho were two of the most important people in your life, and they deserved happiness. You repeated that to yourself like a mantra, hoping that if you said it enough, you might actually believe it. 

It hurt seeing them together, knowing that while you were happy for them, you couldn’t help the ache in your chest every time Yunho laughed a little too easily at something she said, or when she rested her head on his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The worst part was that you couldn’t even be angry. How could you? Haewon hadn’t done anything wrong; she hadn’t stolen Yunho from you, and Yunho hadn’t abandoned you. It was like watching sand slip through your fingers—nothing to hold on to, nothing you could do to stop it.

Yunho was happy, and you cared about him enough to want that for him, even if it wasn’t with you.

After you disappeared, everything fell apart in ways neither of them expected. Yunho and Haewon participated in search parties, posted on social media about your disappearance, and cooperated with law enforcement. But there were no answers, no trace of where you’d gone or why. The emptiness you left behind was palpable, a gaping hole in both their lives.

At first, Haewon believed they were grieving together. She felt the weight of your absence in every corner of her life, and Yunho, in his quiet way, did too. But then, she began to notice the way their relationship shifted. 

It was subtle at first: a slight distance in Yunho’s eyes, the way he seemed preoccupied even when they were alone. He would zone out in the middle of conversations, and even when he held Haewon in his arms, his heart wasn’t fully there. 

Slowly, painfully, she realized the truth. Yunho wasn’t just mourning you—he was waiting for you. He was still tethered to you, pulled by an invisible force that Haewon couldn’t compete with.

She never considered herself a mean girl. Sure, she had grown up in a comfortable world, surrounded by friends who were a little more tightly wounded and concerned with appearances. But now, standing on the other side of it, Haewon could see the truth for what it was. Yunho was never really hers to begin with. She hadn’t stolen him—not intentionally—but she had taken something that was never really hers to claim. 

Then there was Sungjae. 

Sungjae had never been a close friend, not really. He was more of a background figure—someone on the outskirts of Haewon’s social circle who, little by little, had weaseled his way in. He was everything Yunho wasn’t: impulsive, flirtatious, unpredictable. And it was those very qualities that ignited something in her.

The affair began quietly, like a secret Haewon wasn’t ready to admit even to herself. It started innocently enough—casual conversations, coffee outings after shared classes. They’d stay up late in the library, long after everyone else had left, talking about things that felt too personal, too vulnerable to share with anyone else. Haewon convinced herself it was nothing more than a close friendship—after all, she had a large circle of friends. What harm could one more friend do?

As time passed, the line between friendship and something more blurred. In the quiet moments following your disappearance, Haewon found herself relying on Sungjae in ways she hadn’t with Yunho in years. He became her anchor when the world felt uncertain, someone who made her feel alive and seen.

At first, it was easy to justify: she and Yunho had been drifting apart. Haewon had noticed it in the way their conversations had become shorter, less meaningful; the way they sat together in silence more often than not, the air between them filled with unspoken tension. 

But there was also something darker about Sungjae—something tied to the past Haewon desperately tried to forget. The night you disappeared, Sungjae had humiliated you, his cruel words cutting through the air as everyone watched in uncomfortable silence. And Haewon had stood by, doing nothing. She had stayed silent, too afraid to confront him, too indifferent to speak up.

Yunho had done nothing, either. His usual kind, gentle demeanor had turned into passive inaction, making excuses whenever Haewon brought up the topic like "It's just a phase" or "They’ll work it out."

“Do you think Sungjae had something to do with Y/N’s disappearance?” Haewon suddenly blurted out as the two were cooking dinner. 

Yunho froze, his jaw tightening. He knew the answer—he had always known. The last time anyone had seen you was when you stormed out of the apartment, cheeks flushed with shame and frustration. And yet, Yunho couldn’t admit it out loud. Admitting that Sungjae was responsible meant confronting his own failure, his own role in pushing you away.

“If he did,” Yunho said, his voice low, a dangerous edge creeping in, “I’ll kill him myself.”

“But you were the last one who saw her.”

His entire body tensed, the weight of Haewon’s accusation hitting him harder than he expected. He turned to face her fully, eyes dark and cold.

“You think I had something to do with Y/N’s disappearance?” His voice was low, hurt and anger threading through each word. He could feel the bile rising in his chest, burning with the injustice of her suspicion.

“That’s not what I said—”

“But it’s what you meant.” Yunho cut her off. “You think I’m the reason she’s gone?”

“I’m just trying to figure out what happened,” she murmured, her voice softer now, though the accusation still lingered between them. 

“All I did was walk her out, and the CCTV proved that! You have no idea how much Y/N’s disappearance is affecting me! But to even suggest that I could’ve done something…” His voice trailed off, swallowed by a surge of emotion.

“I can’t do this,” Yunho muttered, his voice barely audible now as he turned away from her. Grabbing his jacket off the chair, he headed for the door, his movements tense and deliberate. “I’m done with this conversation.”

His footsteps faltered just before reaching the door, the frustration inside him boiling over. He spun back to face Haewon, his voice sharp and biting.

“Every time it comes to Sungjae, you choose him. Why?”

“I–” Haewon’s voice cracked, but Yunho didn’t stop. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving a deafening silence in his wake.

Haewon knew it wasn’t fair to keep dragging him along when her heart was no longer fully his. But the thought of actually leaving—the finality of it—terrified her. The knowledge that once she walked away, there would be no going back was something she wasn’t sure she could handle.

And then Yunho proposed. 

It caught her completely off guard—a moment she hadn’t prepared for despite all her doubts and uncertainty. She hadn’t expected him to propose, not now. But instead of facing the truth, instead of admitting that her heart had drifted away and she was entangled in an affair with someone else, Haewon did the only thing she could think of: she convinced herself that accepting Yunho’s proposal would fix everything.

Haewon felt trapped. She felt the walls closing in, suffocating her as she tried to play the part of the happy fiancée. On the night of the engagement party, everyone around them was celebrating, toasting to their future, but all she could think about was how wrong it all felt. Her heart wasn’t in it—not fully—and she knew it.

The alcohol didn’t help. Glass after glass, Haewon drank to drown out the noise in her head, to silence the guilt and doubt. She wanted to forget, to numb herself to everything, but instead, it only made her feel more exposed.

She avoided Yunho most of the night, choosing instead to party with her friends, laughing too loudly, her smile brittle around the edges. Yunho tried to get her to slow down, to pull her back to him, to hold her close, but every time he did, it felt like the air was being sucked out of her lungs. It wasn’t his fault, but being near him only made the weight of her choices heavier.

Finally, something inside her snapped. Right there, in front of everyone. The frustration, the guilt, the suffocating pressure of pretending—it all came to the surface. She knew it was unfair, that Yunho didn’t deserve it, but she couldn’t stop the words from spilling out. 

Now, as she laid in bed next to Sungjae, the weight of her betrayal closed in on her. The wedding was fast approaching, a date circled on the calendar like a death sentence, and there was no backing out now. The dress had been chosen, the invitations sent. Everyone was expecting a celebration, but all Haewon could feel was dread. 

Yunho had betrayed you too, hadn’t he? He had stood on the sidelines, just as complicit, watching as Sungjae’s cruelty unraveled you. And yet, he had stayed—stayed with her, proposed to her, tried to build a future with her. It was laughable. 

The two of them, pretending like they could escape what they’d done, like they could forge something real out of ashes. But the truth had always been there, lurking beneath the surface. 

They were no better than the man lying next to her now.

Perhaps this was what she and Yunho both deserved—two people who had betrayed you, condemned to a life of misery together.

Life in the Emporium was nothing short of magical surprises.

Each day began with a quiet ritual, a moment of calm before the shop's unique energy fully awoke. The first thing you’d do each morning was reach for the incense—carefully selected for its cleansing properties—and light it. As the fragrant smoke curled into the air, it seemed to reset the entire space, gently sweeping away the lingering energies left behind by the previous day’s visitors.

Above, the flowers in the hanging garden stirred with the first touch of morning light, their vibrant petals responding as if in greeting. You watered them with a flick of the wrist, though it felt more like a gesture of care than necessity—they thrived on the shop's magic more than on water.

The shop had its own rhythm, a delicate balance between the mundane and the mystical. Travelers, clients, and even the occasional spirit wandered in, drawn by the promise of wishes granted—some simple, others far more complicated. You had seen all kinds: the weary traveler who just wanted safe passage home, the desperate lover seeking a second chance, or the ambitious merchant hoping to change their fortune.

But nothing in the emporium was granted without a cost, and the price wasn’t paid in gold or silver. Every transaction required something far more precious—a wish. Not the kind made on a whim, but a deeply held desire, pulled from the very core of one’s soul.

You would watch as they approached the counter, hands trembling ever so slightly as they revealed their request. Their eyes flickered with doubt as the weight of the exchange settled upon them. Standing before you, they were caught between what they needed and what they were about to give up, realizing that their wish, once surrendered, would be gone forever.

You always asked if they were certain. If they understood the nature of their sacrifice. But the emporium never rejected a payment once it was offered. 

You had become accustomed to the shop’s quirks, trusting its ancient magic to maintain a balance that you could only partly comprehend. It was more than a shop; it was a living entity, guiding not only the customers but you, its keeper, shaping the course of both your lives in subtle, unseen ways.

Everything functioned smoothly, like clockwork—until the day Yunho arrived.

From the moment Yunho stepped into the emporium, his presence unsettled you. There was a calm assurance in the way he carried himself, grounding everything around you. Despite never having met him before, something inside you insisted Yunho wasn’t a stranger. 

You recalled the strange memories that had flooded your senses—the wind whipping around you as you sat in a car with Yunho, the sun illuminating the way the corner of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. It felt so real, as if you’d lived that moment before, but then it dissolved into something deeper, something raw. 

The emotions had gripped you before you could react, dragging you under like a riptide. Your knees buckled, and the world tilted, leaving you gasping for air. Yunho was there, of course. Even through the thick haze of your feelings, he kept you steady, his arms the only thing keeping you from crumbling completely.

Even now, the echoes of that moment lingered in your body. You could still feel the weight of the emotions that had passed through you, as if the magic had left an imprint on your soul. 

“Fate has already tied their threads together.”

Your mind raced, trying to grasp Hongjoong and Wooyoung’s conversation. 

What did that mean? What threads? Could the connection you felt—this strange, undeniable pull—be part of some cosmic plan, one that had existed long before you even stepped foot in the emporium?

But how could you accept something so profound when you couldn’t even remember him? The thought haunted you, and yet, deep down, the pull toward Yunho only grew stronger, as if Fate itself refused to let you walk away.

You sighed, taking a long drag from your pipe, leaning back as you watched a few late summer blooms drift down from the skylight’s hanging garden. Their petals fluttered like tiny omens in the gentle breeze. Fall had arrived, and with the change in seasons, the line between the living and the departed would thin, bringing even more travelers and clients from different realms. 

The bell above the door jingled faintly, drawing your attention. You glanced over, catching the sleek, shadowy form slipping through the crack in the door—a flash of fur before it darted out into the evening. You immediately knew who it was.

“Wooyoung,” you called out. The cat froze mid-step, his tail twitching with surprise. Slowly, he turned his head, his onyx eyes gleaming mischievously in the dim light.

“Don’t even try it,” you added, placing your hands on your hips. He blinked at you, feigning innocence, but you weren’t about to let him slink away without answers this time.

The cat stretched lazily, as if he hadn’t just been caught trying to sneak out, then padded toward you with that familiar, too-casual saunter. By the time he reached you, he shifted back into his human form with a dramatic sigh, ruffling his messy hair as if you’d truly inconvenienced him.

“I was just stepping out,” Wooyoung said, giving you that infuriating smirk of his. “Needed some air. It’s stuffy in here with all this—" He waved his hand around vaguely, “—magic.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it. “You are magic, Wooyoung.” Your tone was teasing, playful. “Haven’t you had enough of the outside world and tormenting humans for one lifetime?”

“I’m a cat. Gotta see what the world’s up to,” he shrugged. 

There was a beat of silence, and you took a breath before speaking. “I heard your conversation with Hongjoong last night.”

Wooyoung froze for the briefest moment, his eyes widening just slightly before he masked it with another lazy grin. The shift in his demeanor was quick, but you’d known him long enough to recognize the flicker of panic he tried to bury. 

"It’s not polite to eavesdrop," he teased, his voice light but edged with a subtle wariness.

You weren’t about to let him wiggle his way out of this one. You had seen the way he was squirming, avoiding the real issue, and this time you needed answers. 

"What does fate have to do with me and Yunho?"

His smile faltered, a crack in his usual carefree facade. Wooyoung shifted uneasily, searching for the right words to soften the blow, but knowing there was no easy way out. He could feel your frustration mounting, the tension stretching unbearably thin.

"It’s... well, it’s like this," His voice lowered, and for once, he sounded serious. "Hongjoong thinks you and Yunho are bound together in ways that we don’t fully understand. It’s something that’s deeper and older…something that humans refer to as soulmates."

Soulmates.

It sounded ridiculous, unbelievable. You and Yunho, tied together by fate? He was just a traveler, someone the shop had revealed itself to. There was nothing special about him. 

"How?" you scoffed, shaking your head as if the mere action would dispel the ridiculous notion. "He’s a stranger, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours. He shifted uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at you. 

"Well… the thing is you have met him before.” But the thing is... you don’t remember. Because you can’t, Wooyoung wanted to say. 

"What are you talking about? Then why can’t I remember him? What did I forget?"

Your chest tightened. The frustration, the confusion, the pull you’d felt around Yunho ever since he first entered the shop—it all started to transform into something deeper, something more unsettling. It was as if a fog was lifting, revealing shadows of memories you couldn’t quite grasp.

He let out a long breath, rubbing his face. "It’s complicated. There are things...about you, that you don’t remember. That you chose not to remember."

Your mind raced. Memories? With Yunho? The man you barely knew, who had walked into your life like any other traveler? It didn’t make sense. None of this did.

"If I erased him from my life, then maybe I had a reason," you snapped, the words tasting bitter. Wooyoung winced but didn’t argue. 

"Fate doesn’t just disappear because you forget. He’s still tied to you, even if you can’t feel it." He paused, his eyes searching your face, hoping for some sign of understanding. "Maybe it’s why the shop revealed itself to him. It’s fate, pulling you back together."

You could feel the ground slipping from beneath you, your grip on reality loosening with every word he spoke. What Wooyoung was suggesting—soulmates, forgotten love, fate—it sounded like something out of a dream, a fantasy too far removed from the life you knew. 

"Why does it matter if I’m connected to him or not?" you continued, your throat tightening as the question lodged itself there, too painful to speak.

The air grew heavy, thick with tension, as if the walls themselves were reacting to the storm brewing inside you. The shelves rattled, and the shop’s energy pulsed erratically, reflecting the confusion and fear you could no longer keep at bay. The lanterns flickered wildly, casting frantic shadows that danced along the walls, twisting in the growing unease.

You tried to steady your breathing, to calm the chaos within, but your mind raced with unanswered questions, with the gnawing suspicion that Wooyoung was right, and it terrified you. 

Wooyoung’s face fell, the spark of his usual wit dimming into something darker, something almost sorrowful. He shifted uncomfortably again, as though he wished to be anywhere but here, at this moment.

"Because no one wants to see you hurting, Y/N,” His voice was barely above a whisper, thick with regret. "You were in so much pain that you thought forgetting him and becoming the keeper would make it stop."

That name again. Y/N. It echoed in your mind, a foreign weight on your chest. It felt like a name you should know, but it slipped through your grasp. A name tied to a life you no longer remembered. 

"That toy," he continued, "it triggered something, didn’t it? The memories—the emotions—they were too strong. And when you felt that, your magic went unstable. The shop could barely handle it."

You shuddered, the memory of that moment still fresh, still raw. But one question clawed at you, louder than the chaos you’d unleashed.

What had been so unbearable that the only answer was to forget?

“Why is it so cold?” you groaned, bouncing on your toes and rubbing your hands together, trying to get the blood flowing. 

The train station was always drafty, but today it felt like the cold had settled into your bones, refusing to leave. You shivered and glanced around, surprised to see no snow on the ground. It was odd—this time of year usually meant blankets of white everywhere, the world covered in a quiet stillness. Yet now, all you had was the biting wind and a gray sky threatening snow that never seemed to come.

Yunho stood beside you, his breath puffing out in small clouds as he huddled deeper into his coat. He laughed softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked at you. 

“You’re always cold,” he teased, nudging your arm with his elbow. “Should’ve worn more layers.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re practically a furnace,” you grumbled. 

The two of you had decided to take the train home for the holidays after your first semester of university. You were both exhausted—finals had drained whatever energy you had left—but there was excitement in the air as Christmas approached. 

“I’m surprised there’s no snow,” you mused, gazing up at the dull, overcast sky. The clouds hung low, thick and heavy, but still no sign of snowflakes falling. “Feels weird, doesn’t it? Christmas without snow.”

Yunho hummed in agreement beside you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat as he followed your gaze. “Yeah, it’s like something’s missing. Hopefully, it’ll snow while we’re home.”

His voice was hopeful, and you could see the small spark of excitement in his eyes. Yunho loved snow—it wasn’t just the beauty of it, but the way it brought a sense of stillness and magic to the world. The kind of magic that reminded you both of simpler times, of building snowmen as kids and staying out too long until your fingers were numb.

The next morning, Yunho’s wish came true.

Snow. Fresh, untouched snow covered everything. The rooftops, the streets, the trees—it all glistened under the early morning light, as if the entire world had been dipped in magic overnight. 

This was the moment he’d been waiting for, the moment he hoped for when you both had been standing at the train station, wondering if Christmas would even feel like Christmas without snow. Now, it was here. His wish had come true.

But more than that, he wanted to share this moment with you.

You blinked up at the sky, a few lazy snowflakes still drifting down, landing on your lashes and melting against your skin. Yunho stood beside you, watching the way your eyes lit up, the way you took in the moment like it was something precious. 

The two of you stood there for a while, wordlessly watching the snowfall together. It was the kind of stillness that felt sacred, the kind that only came with the first snow of the season. 

As Yunho glanced at you, his breath caught. You weren’t doing anything special—just standing there, bundled up in your oversized hoodie, your hair slightly messy from sleep, your cheeks flushed from the cold. You weren’t trying to impress anyone, least of all him. You were just you, in the most effortless way, and somehow, that had always been enough.

There was a simplicity to the moment that felt different, more profound than he expected. Last summer, when you’d spent long, sunny days together, he’d thought he understood what he felt for you. He cared about you more than anyone, maybe more than he should’ve let on. It was a love that had grown quietly, steadily, and was beginning to envelop him. 

It was too easy to love you. Too effortless, too natural, as if his heart had always been meant for you. And that’s what made it so dangerous.

He knew that sometimes, love—no matter how powerful—wasn’t enough. The thought of risking what you had—this simple, effortless connection that meant everything to him—for something as unpredictable as love felt like falling into the ocean.

And Yunho wasn’t ready to make the jump. 

He groaned, pressing the heels of his hands against his temples as if that could somehow ease the pounding in his skull. His head felt like it was being split open, a dull, relentless ache that refused to let up. The events of the previous night were a blur—fragments of conversation, too many drinks, and the sinking realization that he’d gone well past his limit.

He’s supposed to head back to Seoul today, back to his life and the steady rhythm of work that usually kept his life in order. But there was no way he could face that right now, not with the amount of alcohol that had been consumed. 

The events of last night came back to him in disjointed, hazy flashes. He remembered the way your fingers brushed against the plush toy, followed by the sudden paling of your face right before you collapsed to the floor. 

Yunho’s heart had nearly stopped at that moment, the world around him crashing into stillness. The usual hum of the emporium faded into nothing, the vibrant colors of the shelves and strange objects blurring into meaningless shapes. 

His legs moved before his mind could catch up, and he was running, sprinting toward you as if the very air had been torn from his lungs. The world shrank, narrowing to the sight of you lifeless in his arms.

"Y/N, stay with me," he whispered, panic thick in his voice as he cradled your unconscious body. It was the same terror he’d felt the day you disappeared, the same helpless, gut-wrenching fear that had kept him awake at night, haunted by the thought that he’d never see you again.

Yunho held you like his entire world depended on it, his arms wrapped tightly around you, desperate and unrelenting. He pressed his forehead against yours, as he cradled your head against his chest, the warmth of your skin barely noticeable as panic surged inside him.

“I’m sorry, just please, please don’t leave me,” he begged, his voice barely holding together. His fingers tightened their grip on you, trembling with the fear that if he let go, even for a second, you’d slip away for good.

He couldn’t lose you, not when he had just found you again.

Then came Wooyoung’s revelation. You had chosen to disappear from his life. It wasn’t an accident, or some cruel twist of fate. You had asked the shop to erase your memories—all of them. He could still hear Wooyoung’s voice, bitter and sharp, recounting the details, but the exact reason why Wooyoung had been so angry at him was lost in the fog of the night.

He remembered the sting—the way the door slammed behind him, the coldness of the night hitting his face as he stood there, dazed, confused and frustrated. You were alive, bound to this strange realm by forces he didn’t fully understand. But worse than that, you had willingly cut him out of your life.

After that, things blurred even more. He’d ended up at a bar, the numbness setting in as he ordered drink after drink, trying to drown the sea of emotions that threatened to consume him. Somewhere along the way, Yeosang had joined him, and Yunho found himself pouring his heart out—his frustrations, his guilt, his failures. He had ranted about the weight of trying to be the good guy while everything around him crumbled.

Now, in the harsh light of day, the weight of it all hit him with a different kind of intensity. His heart felt heavy, and he had no idea where to go from here.

Yunho sat up, staring at his phone as if it might give him the answers he was too afraid to ask for. His thumb hovered over Haewon’s name on the screen, trembling slightly. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say—he didn’t have a plan, only a sinking feeling in his chest that told him he couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine. 

The line rang once, then twice. By the third ring, his heart had started racing, the weight of everything he had to confront pressing down on him like a vice. When it went to voicemail, Yunho’s stomach dropped.

“Hey, it’s Haewon! Sorry I missed your call, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you soon!”

The artificial cheer in her voice made his skin crawl, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. He could almost picture her—smiling, carefree, the version of her that had loved him wholeheartedly. But that wasn’t who she was anymore. That wasn’t who they were.

"Hey..." he finally whispered, “give me a call when you get a chance.” Yunho waited for a beat, as if hoping she might pick up at the last second, but the line remained silent, empty.

“Yunho? Aren’t you getting ready to head back?” His mom’s voice was gentle, but it startled him from his thoughts. She appeared in the doorway, concern etched in the lines of her face. 

He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I don’t know if I’m going back,” he admitted softly, his voice thick with uncertainty. 

His mom walked in, taking a seat on the edge of his bed, her presence warm and calming. She had always been able to read him better than anyone, even when he was trying his best to hide. Mrs. Jeong didn’t say anything for a moment, just letting the silence hang between them, giving him the space to breathe.

“Tell me more.”

Yunho sighed, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of everything he’d been holding in. It was strange—he felt like a teenager again, venting to his mom about his problems, but this time it felt more suffocating. The future he had thought he wanted, the life he had worked so hard to build, no longer felt like his.

“I’m hungover. I’m miserable. I don’t want to marry Haewon. I’m not happy with my job or where I am in my life. Mingi is my only friend, Yeosang kind of hates me, and Y/N…” He let out a watery chuckle, the sound laced with bitterness. “She’s gone.”

There it was, the truth laid bare—the reality that had been gnawing at him for months, too terrifying to confront. The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of everything he had been trying to ignore.

Mrs. Jeong’s gaze softened as she listened, her heart heavy with a mother’s instinct to protect, but knowing she couldn’t fix this for him. She reached out, placing a hand over his. 

“You’ve been carrying this for a while, haven’t you?” Her voice was soft, laced with a sadness that only came from witnessing the quiet battles of someone you love.

Yunho looked down to their joined hands, his throat tightening. The words he had held back for so long hovered on the edge of his lips, threatening to escape. 

“I thought I could handle it. But—" He paused, his fingers gripping hers a little tighter, his chest heaving as he fought to keep the floodgates closed. 

"I don’t want to keep pretending I’m okay,” he continued, voice cracking slightly. “I’m tired, Mom. Of the job, the engagement, everything. It’s like I’m suffocating, and I don’t know how to breathe anymore.” he replied, quieter now, almost like he was talking to himself. It was the first time he’d admitted it out loud. The fear that had been chaining him to a future he didn’t want.

His mother exhaled softly, her brow furrowing as she absorbed his words. After a moment, she squeezed his hand and spoke gently, her voice calm but firm.

“You’ve always been so considerate. Always thinking of others. But have you thought about what you want? Truly want, not just what you think you should want?”

It wasn’t something Yunho had ever allowed himself to consider fully, and even now, the thought seemed almost too outlandish, too selfish. But the way his mother looked at him, with such understanding, made it feel less frightening, less impossible to confront.

“You’re allowed to want something different, Yunho. You’re allowed to change your mind. You’re allowed to choose yourself.”

Her words struck something within him, unraveling the tightly wound rope of expectations he had tangled himself in for so long. He hesitated, his heart pounding as he dared to voice the question that had haunted him for months.

“So you wouldn’t be upset if I called off the wedding?” His voice was small, almost as if he were afraid the very mention of it might cause everything to collapse around him.

His mother shook her head, her expression soft and reassuring. “Of course not, Yunho. Haewon is lovely, but…” She paused, choosing her words carefully, as she looked at him. “I always felt like she wasn’t the one for you.”

Yunho blinked, surprised by the admission. His mother had never said anything like that before, and in all their talks about the wedding, she had always been supportive, never giving any sign that she might have doubts of her own. 

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” he asked, almost incredulous. 

“Because you’re finally listening to yourself. This is your life, not mine, not anyone else’s. It wasn’t my place to tell you how to live, Yunho. I wanted to believe that you knew what was best for you.”

“And if I quit my job?” he asked, testing the waters, anxiety sparking in his voice. 

“Gunho would be thrilled,” she laughed. “You know, he was absolutely livid when you took the finance job over the Tigers. I’ve never seen him so upset with you! He ranted for weeks about how you were wasting your talents behind a desk instead of being out there building the ultimate dream team.”

His mother’s laughter faded, replaced by a more serious expression. “We’ve all had our hopes for you, Yunho. But those were our hopes, not yours. Life’s not a straight line. It’s full of twists and turns. You don’t have to stay on a path that doesn’t feel right anymore.”

There was something comforting about the idea, the notion of stepping away from the path he had chosen, back to something that felt more like home—more like himself. Sitting with his mother, he began to wonder: What if it wasn’t reckless? What if choosing the life he truly wanted wasn’t some wild, selfish fantasy? What if it was okay to dream again?

His mind wandered to you, to the quiet snowfall and how the snowflakes caught on your lashes. He thought of that summer, driving to the beach, the wind in your hair and the sun beaming down on you, like the world itself couldn’t touch you as long as you were together.

He thought of meeting you for the first time at six years old, running across the street and greeting you as if he’d known him your entire life. It was as if he’d found his other half that day, the person who made him feel complete even in his innocence.

But then, more painfully, he thought of meeting you for the first time again. Only this time, you hadn’t known him at all. 

With you, there was no need to fill the silence. Everything felt easy, natural, like you were meant to exist beside each other. You were his best friend, the one person who made him feel like himself. And suddenly, Yunho knew. 

It was you. 

The version of himself that existed when he was with you—that was who he truly was. It was a terrifying realization, but at the same time, it was the most certain thing he’d felt in a long time. You had always been the one constant in his life, the one person who made everything feel okay, even when it wasn’t.

And he didn’t want to lose that. He didn’t want to lose you.

He wanted a future with you.

Yunho swallowed, his pulse quickening, but for the first time in what felt like forever, his mind was clear. 

“I think…” he began, his voice steady, resolute, “I know where I want to go from here.”

Pushing open the door, the familiar chime rang through the shop. It was empty, save for you, and Yunho’s breath caught when he saw you standing behind the counter, bathed in the glow of fading daylight. 

He glanced over at you, watching the way you moved, how you seemed so different and yet so familiar. The person standing in front of him was still you, the same person he’d known since childhood. The memories from childhood rushed back again—the snow, the summer sun, the first time you played baseball together. It all made sense now, in ways it never had before.

“Yunho,” you greeted, your voice carrying a warmth as you lifted your hand with a graceful flick. The scroll hovering beside you shimmered for a moment, then dissolved into the air, disappearing as if it had never existed. 

“How are you feeling?” Yunho asked quietly. There was something boyish, almost shy, in the way he looked at you, like he was a kid again, standing in front of his crush, hoping for something, anything, that would tell him he was making the right choice.

“Better. Thank you for being here the other night. It seems like you were a big help to Wooyoung.”

"I'm glad to hear that," he murmured, his voice soft as his gaze lingered on you, his eyes softening as if he were seeing you for the first time all over again. There was a quiet admiration that he couldn’t quite hide, no matter how hard he tried to keep his emotions in check.

"I uh…" he hesitated, his eyes flickered away for a moment, as if searching for courage in the silence between you, “I’m leaving for Seoul. Just to take care of some things. I wanted to see you before I left.”

You tilted your head, curiosity lighting up your eyes, the corners of your lips lifting in that familiar way that made his heart stutter. A playful yet gentle hum escaped your lips. 

“Oh? And why’s that?”

Your question hung in the air, teasing him, pulling at the tangled mess of feelings he'd tried to bury for so long. He looked at you, a faint flush creeping up his neck as he struggled to find the right response. 

“I—” he started, but his voice faltered. His pulse quickened, and for a moment, he felt completely exposed. “I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”

The air around you seemed to still, the gravity of his admission settling like dust in the corners of the emporium. The idea of leaving felt wrong to him, and yet it was inevitable, something he had to do. 

Your eyes softened with understanding, feeling more like home than any place he could go. Something in your gaze recognized him, sensing the invisible thread that tied you together. 

“No matter where you are,” you said quietly, your voice carrying the same calm assurance that had always soothed him, “the emporium will always be within reach. As will I.”

The words were simple, yet they held a promise—a promise that went beyond physical space or memory. The emporium was never bound by the ordinary rules of the world, and neither, it seemed, were you. Your small, understanding smile made Yunho feel that, despite the uncertainty, everything would be okay.

“Besides,” you continued, a playful glint flickering in your eyes, “I can always ask Wooyoung to lend a helping hand. He knows the way.”

“That cat does nothing but bully me,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, recalling how Wooyoung had made him a target of mischief.

Your laugh filled the space between you, a sound that seemed to chase away the heaviness for just a moment. Though Yunho tried to maintain his frown, the corners of his lips betrayed him, lifting into a reluctant smile. 

Even though you didn’t remember him, it didn’t matter. There was something deeper between you, something unshakeable. And that, in its own way, gave him the strength he needed to leave.

You stepped forward, that invisible thread that had always seemed to exist between you tugged at your heart, drawing you toward him. It was a connection that transcended words, possibly even space and time. Yunho’s eyes lingered on you, their quiet intensity making your heart skip a beat.

“The next time I come into the shop,” he began, his voice low, “I’ll be ready to make my wish.”

You searched his face, trying to read the depths of what he meant, but all you found was that same gentle fervor staring back at you. 

“You’ve thought about it?”

“I have,” he admitted. “With everything that’s happening, I think I finally know what I want.”

The weight of his words settled between you like a promise. Whatever his wish was, it wasn’t something to be rushed—it belonged to the future, a time when he was ready to claim it. And somehow, you understood that.

“I’ll be waiting,” you whispered, though you knew Yunho heard it.

As he turned to leave, a sudden thought gripped you, pulling you back from the brink of your goodbye. “Yunho… before you leave…”

He froze at the sound of his name on your lips, his heart fluttering. Every breath, every glance, vibrated with something unspoken, something powerful.

“Who are you?” you asked, your voice soft, tentative. “To me?”

<< iii | v >>

taglist: @babymbbatinygirl @intowxnderland @hwasa28 @thedistractedwriter @beabatiny @lovelyglares @spenceatiny18 @tiny-apocalypse @sunnysidesins @heyitsmetonid @jwone @laurenwidjaja @potatos-on-clouds @xuchiya @syubseokie

[mercuriians]

I feel like a fic about Atsumu, Oikawa, and Bokuto finding their s/o reading fanfic about them would be hilarious

(You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to <3)

Have a lovely day and thank you if you end up doing this request <33333

a fantasy world

content info — gender neutral! reader, fluffy hq!! drabbles with some crack & hurt/comfort (sounds weird but bear w it, all separate). a teeny tiny bit suggestive in atsumu's part cuz he's a little shit.

word count — 1.9k words.

author’s note — holy HELL this is so late 😭 anon i hope ur still here, i made this pretty long so that's my way of apologizing. im also praying that atsumu is in character because this is only the second time ive written him. anyway, tysm for requesting!! hope u all like this <3

MIYA ATSUMU

your eyes are obstinately glued to your phone, wholly transfixed by the words that were typed across the screen. not a single soul knew about your little hobby and quite frankly, it was likely better that they remained oblivious. you wouldn’t know how to react if anyone found out, but really, there was one particular person who absolutely had to stay unaware.

as it turns out, they were also the very subject of the story you’re currently reading—of course, none other than your sweet, beloved boyfriend, atsumu. not that the term ‘sweet’ was an especially fitting term for him. ooh, that was a sick burn.

now, obviously you loved the boy. atsumu was bold, intelligent, thoughtful, hardworking, and affectionate to the point where osamu and the rest of his team often complained about how shameless he was in front of them. his spirit burned bright with fiery ambition, glimmering red and orange and yellow, and he introduced a kind of light into your life that you had never quite experienced before. at first you were a little wary at first, a little blinded by how much he shone, but because you were just as stubborn as he was, you soon grew used to it.

if anything, you came to learn that atsumu was undoubtedly one of the most inspirational people out there. motivating his peers was like second-nature to him, and even if he didn’t consciously put in the effort to inspire them, he still ended up doing so anyway. his love for volleyball was blatant in its authenticity, in its obsession. so when coupled with his charisma, and, yes, his boyishly good looks, atsumu developed a serious kind of gravitational pull. it was no wonder so many people were drawn in—yourself included.

but, inevitably, something had to be sacrificed. your boyfriend’s devotion to the game often meant that you two didn’t get to spend much time together. if atsumu wasn’t practicing at the gym, then he was either thinking about doing it, on his way to doing it, or—this happens only under the direst of circumstances—recovering from doing it. he was, in every sense of the word, a workaholic.

you were fine with it for the most part, mostly because you had a busy schedule to deal with yourself. if you weren’t doing homework or studying for an upcoming exam for the sake of staying on top of your classes, then you were either fulfilling your duties as a student council member, playing your respective sport, or taking care of things at home.

regardless, there were still times when you wished atsumu was with you. it didn’t matter if he was spewing volleyball jargon, or forcing you to pepper with him, or anything like that. you just wanted to spend time with him, to actually see him and his stupid face and his stupid smile that you want to kiss so badly.

maybe that’s why you’re so zeroed in on the fanfiction you’re reading—to try and make up for what you’ve been deprived of for days on end. a very palpable twinge of sadness tugs at your heart. you push the unwanted sentiment to the depths of your mind, trying to focus on reading the story again.

god, what sentence were you even on? and why was the door suddenly opening—

“hey baby, did ya miss me?”

your soul leaves your body.

before you even have time to think, a shrill scream rips from your throat as you scramble to hide your phone underneath the covers. atsumu's jaw drops, completely and utterly befuddled by your behavior. after a moment he raises his hands in mock surrender. "jeez, darlin', it's just me. your boyfriend, remember?" atsumu says, brow raised. there's a mixture of emotions written across his face—slight concern, palpable amusement, even some suspicion. "what are ya hidin' there on your phone, anyway?"

finally, you seem to find your voice. "n-nothing important," you mumble, clearly and very intentionally avoiding the intensity of atsumu's hawk-like gaze. "i didn't even know you'd be visiting today.. thought you would be busy with practice again."

maybe it's because your boyfriend knows you so well by now, but he catches the hint of bitterness in your tone. his face softens, and he takes one, two, three steps toward you until he's taking up the space on your left. "coach called in sick, so mister perfect decided to just cancel practice for today," atsumu shrugs. you're still somewhat upset, but you can't help but smile at the setter's nickname for his captain—kita shinsuke, the closest embodiment of perfection that anyone's ever seen.

"i'm pretty sure i texted ya that i would be dropping by," your boyfriend adds, glancing over at you. cautiously, you pull out your phone again and open up the messages app. lo and behold, he did in fact text you, but you were too busy with your fanfiction to notice.

your face burns with the weight of your embarrassment.

a small chuckle escapes from atsumu's mouth. "wow, i haven't even done anything and you're already blushin' for me," he teases. you hit his chest halfheartedly, muttering about how mean he's being. you fail to notice the calculating glint in his eyes. you also fail to notice his hand wandering.

a second later, atsumu grins smugly, your phone held securely in his grip.

"what the hell, 'sumu?!" you screech, trying to retrieve the object in vain. "how did you even—"

"i'm good with my hands," he winks, and you don't even have time to scold him for the clear innuendo because he's typing in the password to your phone. all you can do is accept your fate as atsumu discovers the story you were reading.

as expected, he laughs. loudly. it's almost like the laugh he lets out whenever he wins a bet against osamu. you turn away, shame and humiliation gnawing at your chest. there's nothing more you want than to be swallowed by the floor beneath you.

however, when atsumu's laughter dies down a few moments later, you feel him wrapping an arm around your shoulder. "baby," he begins, voice still a little breathless from all his cackling, "why are ya reading this when ya got the real thing right here?"

you look up at him, a confusing mess of emotions swirling within your stomach. "because we don't seem to spend much time together anymore," you admit, lowering your eyes to the ground. "laugh all you want, but these stories are there for me whenever i need them. you probably think it's stupid, or pathetic, or whatever, but.. i miss you, 'sumu."

you close your eyes, preparing to hear another round of thunderous laughter. it never comes.

"open yer eyes for me, babe," atsumu's voice is unexpectedly soft, tender. hesitantly, you do, and your gaze meets his. your boyfriend reaches out, resting a calloused hand against your cheek. his touch is so familiar, so comforting, that you can't do anything else but lean in and welcome it. "i didn't know that ya were feelin' this way, and i'll admit that it's my fault for not noticing. but hey, you wanna know somethin'?"

"what is it?" you whisper.

"i miss ya too," your boyfriend confesses. he leans in, placing a soft kiss against your lips. "and tomorrow, i'm taking ya out on a date."

OIKAWA TOORU

"oh my god, this is so cute," you sigh dreamily, swinging your feet in satisfaction as you indulge yourself. it was fanfiction, for crying out loud—can you really be blamed? this particular story practically reeked of fluff. you had just received flowers from the male lead, with you two having confessed just a few days ago. now you were on the first date, entering the doorway to a beautiful relationship that made every reader jealous.

the fact that the male lead—the infamous setter of aoba johsai, fanboy of iwaizumi hajime, hater of ushijima wakatoshi—also happened to be your boyfriend was just a minor detail.

you continued reading, the outside world completely irrelevant as you immersed yourself in the story. soon another squeal leaves your lips as oikawa, the male lead, bends down to kiss your hand. he says something swoonworthy, causing you to giggle like a madman. "that's it, i'm marrying you," you say, as if he can hear you through the story.

"marrying who?"

you let out a defeated sigh as your boyfriend pops his head into your room. there's a pout on oikawa's face, his mocha eyes filled with mock betrayal. still there's a part of you that knows he actually is a little bit jealous; he just doesn't know that technically, he's jealous of himself. "who are you marrying, babe?" he asks you somewhat accusingly. "i think it's a bit too early for—"

"shut up please," you groan, a bit sad that your reading session got interrupted. "i'm reading this fanfiction of you, and in the story, you're actually nice to me."

you immediately hear an indignant gasp from your boyfriend. he puts a hand to his chest, his pout now even more prominent. "excuse me, i am nice to you," oikawa scoffs as he walks over, squinting at the story you're reading. "i'm way better than him!"

"you are him," you deadpan.

"exactly! why are you reading that when i'm right here? i'm hurt," oikawa says in disapproval, shaking his head at you. "now move over."

you blink—once, twice. "wait, what?"

"i wanna read too," oikawa says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, "so i can list all the things they got wrong about me."

BOKUTO KOUTAROU

maybe reading fanfiction about your boyfriend wasn't the best idea. it's not that the story wasn't great because it really was—the characterization was on-point, the writing style was smooth and elegant, and the plot was creative. it's more about your boyfriend himself. particularly the way that he reacted when he found out.

"am i not good enough?" bokuto asked you quietly as he stared up at you. his golden eyes were absolutely despondent, his shoulders were slouched, and even his owlish hair looked like it was deflated. you didn't need akaashi to understand that those were all signs of an emo bokuto.

and it was all because of you.

man, the guilt was unbearable.

"koutarou," you say softly, reaching out to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. "baby, you are more than enough for me. you're amazing, okay? you're my anchor, and you make me smile when no one else can. compared to you, this fanfiction means nothing." you pause, placing a tender kiss against his warm cheek. "seeing you sad makes me sad, you know?"

"i'm sorry," bokuto mumbles, burying his face in the crook of your shoulder. "i thought i'd let you down or something, like i wasn't being a good boyfriend. it scared me."

his words make your heart hurt even more. you pull away from the hug, letting your earnest gaze meet his. "from now on, you don't have to be scared," you tell him seriously. "i'll stop reading fanfiction, and every day, i'll remind you of how much you mean to me. is that fair, kou?"

bokuto nods, and it's at that moment that you start to see the gloomy aura around him disappear. "i love you," he says, and you can tell that he means it. he always does.

you pull him closer, your fingers combing through his hair soothingly. he hums quietly, enjoying the feeling. "i love you too, koutarou," you smile. "and no story will ever change that."

you let a few moments pass by, simply listening to the comforting sound of his heartbeat. slowly, you let your eyes close, your boyfriend's strong embrace lulling you to a light rest. after a few moments, though, bokuto's voice breaks through the silence. "can i ask you a question, babe?"

you open your eyes. "anything."

he pulls away, his expression completely serious as he looks at you. "can we get something to eat?"

[diorctrl]

WHAT GIRL GROUP THEIR S/O WOULD BE IN : idol!enha x idol! reader

𓂂 ˳ enhypen hyung line, fluff warnings: intentional lower case

lee heeseung ( 이희승 )

୨୧ 𓂂 ˳ twice, you’d be the youngest member and visual of the group and only a year older than him, the first time he met you he was in completely entranced by you and your beauty. with you being his senior it was hard to have any interactions with you since you’re 3rd generation so he took every chance he got to get closer with you when his group had the same schedules as yours. when you guys start dating he’s completely whipped for you and he loves how much you help him because of the amount of experience you have. He’s also so glad that your group doesn’t really go to award shows like that anymore because he knows that he’d get caught staring the whole time.

park jongseong ( 박종성 )

୨୧ 𓂂 ˳ aespa, you both debuted around the same time and both got best new female and male artist of the year during mama 2021, that’s actually how his relationship with you started off, you bumped into each other during backstage and you congratulated him for winning best new male artist, you both talked to each other for a while and even exchanged numbers. you guys are literally such a private couple, people would never be able to find out they you guys were dating unless you flat out said it. you both are so confused about each other’s groups lore (😭), he’s constantly asking you to explain it to him and you’re always asking him to explain it to you.

sim jaeyun ( 심재윤 )

୨୧ 𓂂 ˳ lesserafim, you guys started talking during filming game caterer, he was surprised to see how quiet you are compared to your members, you’re the complete opposite of how you are on stage, it intrigued him. when filming was finished he worked up the courage to ask for your number and was surprised when you said sure. you guy’s balance each other out so well and he loves how comfortable you are around him and would probably do anything you tell him to do, you have him wrapped around your finger but you’re too oblivious to know it.(yunjin would totally threaten him that she would kill him if he hurt you)

park sunghoon ( 박성훈 )

୨୧ 𓂂 ˳ ive, wonyong introduced him to you, with both you and him being ice skaters she thought it would be nice that you guys could bond over it together. and boy was she right, he loved how much he had in common with you, he loved how much you guys shared the same love for ice skating, he was already down bad for you. so it wasn’t a shock to any of your groups when you guys started dating. you guys were the private but not secret type couple, there was so much proof that you guys were dating but neither hybe or starship confirmed and there was always fans that found a way to debunk it. every other week something comes out about you two and it’s always the funniest thing because nothing ever gets confirmed, he likes how he can sorta be lowkey out in the open with you, (he’s been trying to convince you to go out together in the open.)

[cloudiinumaki]

can't you see? (when you're oblivious)

NOTES ! — could've written these two scenarios into oneshots.... was NOTT bothered. anyways man ive been misreading satoru as santa a lot lately i keep on thinking "damn since when was santa in jjk" . honestly need to take a nap asap bc its happened too much... CHARACTERS ! — yuji itadori, megumi fushiguro (separate)

WARNINGS ! — lowercase strikes again (intentionally i swear), but its fluff so no warnings really

REQUESTS OPEN !

YUJI.

— quite simply, you guys are made for each other. sure, i'm well aware of how smart and determined yuji can be, but i know that that doesn't translate into romance, he's definitely oblivious too.

— when he notices his crush on you first forming, he's definitely the type to sigh forlornly and talk to nobara and megumi about it, dramatic and all about "how cool they are" and so on and so forth. and the whole time he's on this dramatic spiel, she just wants to hit him over the head with her hammer, because how is it not obvious that you've already been liking him for a while???

— unbeknownst to yuji, nobara's already been dealing with terribly similar conversations from you, both of you just as infatuated with each other. that infatuation means that nobara's had to deal with your pining for a while, and you always seem to end up repeating yourself, looping back into the phrase of "can't you see how cute he is?"

— no. nobara cannot see that, but she does allow you to vent your frustrated feelings as one of her closest friends. it's almost sweet how you two mirror each other despite not even knowing. but, it's you two, so she won't actually say it is.

— it's surprising because usually you're quite competent and honestly smart, exorcising and working in a way that's almost methodical, even from megumi's eyes.

— but, megumi's also noted the fact that that same competence of yours obviously didn't translate into competence with crushes, as you were the sole cause he was having to deal with yuji's complaining, overly-dramatic self, and his statements of "they're so cute, you don't get it".

— no, megumi didn't 'get it'. you two were both as stupid as each other, honestly.

— still, nobara insisted that this situation be solved between you and yuji alone, it wouldn't be right for them to interfere anyway… (even if they were starting to reach their wit's ends). all they could really do was push yuji to make his efforts more obvious, if that was even possible.

— but, even when yuji starts trying to leave hints (they're hardly even hints with how obvious he makes it), somehow you manage to not notice it.

— maybe it's a one time thing, he thinks, but as he tries a few times more to make it clear, you're speaking just as usual without missing a single beat.

— he gets you your favourite plushie from the arcade after toiling for ages to beat the clearly rigged machine...

— you both go into one those purikura photobooths with the built-in filters, making the photos as silly as possible, and take an excessive amount of photos.

— you even go and watch the new addition to the line of 'human earthworm' movies together, sharing from the same bucket of popcorn. all things done with just the two of you, looking and feeling just like a date and a confession rolled into one.

— could it really be more obvious how he feels??? (it couldn't).

— honestly, after a while, he did end up wondering if you didn't like him back at all, considering if this silence was just your way of trying not to ruin the really good friendship you guys already shared.

— maybe you'd changed your mind and just didn't want to offend him by saying so..

— maybe he'd misread the situation...

— meanwhile you're mentally freaking out about how good of a friend he is that it almost feels like more, trying and failing to stop yourself from feeling something that you're so certain is unreciprocated.

— this same song and dance continues for a while, until one day, even yuji's generous patience runs thin, and he decides to just tell you upfront.

— he's more careful with his words than usual, not wanting to burden you too much with these feelings and yet having to get them out because he's being driven to insanity with how everything is going…

— at his confession, you look genuinely surprised, replying that you didn't know he felt like that too.

— too???? his mind is sent for a spin at that one word, and you two quickly clear up the matter, both relieved and slightly embarrassed at how incredibly slow you'd been to pick up on the other's feelings.

— yeah, you guys are made for each other.

MEGUMI.

— he's not sure how much longer he can take this.

— honestly, when megumi realised what exactly his newfound and highly unusual feelings were, he did feel a sense of foreboding. part of that was probably down to the fact that he realised that he'd have to navigate these new and somewhat uncomfortable feelings towards you…

— and the other part was the fact that if he wanted you to know these feelings, it would take effort.

— from the way megumi had seen you accidentally brush off people who'd been interested in you before, without even knowing that they were interested in you, it was quite obvious that you were the textbook definition of oblivious.

— in battle, you were a capable sorcerer. in training, you were dedicated and hard-working. in matters of like or love… absolutely atrocious, so bad that even he was noticing.

— megumi's not the type to make confessions. he knows he isn't. but he's also quite aware that if he doesn't tell you upfront, you'll never know.

— and, since he's still unsure of what exactly you feel, he's resigned himself to that scenario. the feelings will pass, eventually.

— and, eventually, gojo and nobara will stop teasing him about it. he's really not that obvious, having grown accustommed to keeping his emotions and thoughts safely concealed behind his usual impassive expressions. but, somehow, those two can tell like sharks sense blood, like they have a penchant for finding anything to embarrass megumi with. — it doesn't help that he finds his gaze annoyingly pulled towards you again and again, no matter if you're doing the most mundane thing ever. it certainly doesn't help that whenever he's caught out doing so, he finds his ears going annoyingly red, making it clear to anyone who's noticed this quirk of his that he's embarrassed despite his perfectly calm facial expression.

— after a typical mission for nobara, yuji and him, the topic of you comes up again whilst they're walking back. there's the usual teasing and jokes made lightheartedly, almost routine, and megumi knows their words have no true bite to them.

— but, then nobara asks, "but really, you're not going to tell them about it?" her tone's almost concerned by the prospect, clearly disapproving of his current plan. "you shouldn't just assume their answer will be a straight 'no'."

— he hears her words, recognising the truth in them with reluctance… but, why should he complicate what's already good enough with these clunky feelings of his? it's really not as important as they're making it out to be.

— megumi doesn't entertain her with an articulated response, simply humming in acknowledgement. what was he even supposed to say?

— when he glances at the two a few moments later, the silence stretching uncomfortably long, he notices nobara and yuji fixing him with the same, slightly judging look.

— he rolls his eyes, and lets the conversation slip back into less controversial topics, but he can't help but think about what nobara said for a while after.

— perhaps it's better to say something, anything. if it doesn't go to plan, then he can just act like he never said it and disregard any memory of it. right? those thoughts didn't ease his mind much.

— as he's heading to his dorm that night, he overhears the slight voices from inside your room, clearly you and nobara chatting about something, the door left ajar. he's not an eavesdropper, never has been one, so he continues walking down the hallway until he unintentionally hears something that makes him freeze.

— you were complaining about how you still liked your crush even though he didn't care… he hadn't even known you'd had one?

— and, then before he'd even had the time to deal with the slight stirrings of jealousy he felt bubbling up, you mentioned him by name??? as your crush??

— what was he even supposed to do with that information?

— he obviously wasn't meant to learn this knowledge, was almost about to give up his feelings anyway, yet this was the moment he found out? the universe had a weird sense of humour.

— before he'd had the chance to mentally unpack this new information, he'd heard the shuffling of you getting up and your brief explanation to nobara of "getting some water". so, of course, you'd see each other, standing in the hallway silently.

— and, of course it was the most awkward silence for a few moments before you asked in your usual voice, trying to remain calm and go insane, just to confirm that you had the worst luck of any jujutsu sorcerer yet, "did you hear all of that?"

— …there's not even a point in him lying to save face.

— needless to say, after one painful but relieving conversation outside (he couldn't confess to you in a hallway, especially not when nobara might hear), you'd both cleared up the misunderstandings that had plagued you and were now officially... something. you didn't want to rush it, and neither did he, but nobara noticed you returning to your dorm with your glass of water in a distinctly happier mood, your earlier complaints about megumi suddenly subsiding.

— you didn't tell her specifically what had happened, but it was already quite clear. you were oblivious to more than just love, nobara was beginning to notice. you were also oblivious to the fact that you were stupidly easy to read.

[norrizzandpia]

Can you write something based on the photo of oscar and lily dressed as fred and daphne from scooby doo , but reader instead of lily obvs

I would send the photo , but I think you have allow asks with media turned off

I loved this and i coupled it with this ask (here is the pic this is relating to)

I’ll Be The Fred To Your Daphne (OP81)

Summary: He’ll always be the Fred to her Daphne, the peanut butter to her pb and j, and the salt to her pepper.

Warnings: ive never wrote anything more fluffy

“What do you want to be for Lando’s Halloween party?” Y/n asked on a slow Sunday morning as the couple lay around on the couch, Peaky Blinders playing in the background.

Oscar’s face popped up, confusion etched into his features, “Are we supposed to be dressing up?”

Scoffing, Y/n laughed at her boyfriend’s obliviousness, “Yes, Osc. It’s a costume party.”

Shifting around, he propped himself up as he stared down at her, “But, I thought people didn’t really pay attention to that?”

“Oh, baby,” She giggled, “Yes, people pay attention to that, especially at a Formula 1 Driver’s party.”

“Oh,” His eyes traveled down to his lap, almost in disappointment at his mistake, “Okay, well, what do you want to be?”

Allowing her hands to graze against his cheek, Y/n lightly smiled, “That’s what I was asking you.”

Again, the revelation hit him as his brain finally caught up with the conversation, “I’m not sure. Do you have any ideas?”

Her grin was sheepish and shy as she fished for her phone, the device being lost in the heap of blankets, “How about this?”

The TikTok that played immediately after her last words showed a collage of photos flying by, all suggesting a couple being Daphne and Fred for Halloween. Purples, oranges, and whites flashed as Oscar’s face broke out into the same grin, “I love it.”

Y/n’s eyebrows shot up as her eyes twinkled, “Really?!”

His face softened, his eyes swimming with adoration, “Of course. Where do we start?”

—

With her figure-hugging purple dress and his orange tie, the two were ready for Lando’s party. Stepping out of their apartment and into Oscar’s McLaren, their smiles never faltered, only getting bigger when they turned and were reminded of their coordinating outfits.

“Hey, you made it!” Lando’s voice shouted over the loud speakers as they stepped through the threshold of his house.

Y/n smiled as Lando and Oscar went in for a hug, pulling back for Lando to greet her as well. His eyes wandered down their frames as he took in their costume, and lit up when he realized what they were.

“Fred and Daphne?! Aw, cute! Oscar’s in love!” He teased as he poked at his teammate’s sides.

Oscar tried to dodge all he could, but the giggling ensuing from both his and Lando’s mouths distracted him from getting away. After a few seconds, Oscar backed away and put his hands up in surrender, “Okay, okay! Stop, mate, stop. Please.”

Lando’s hand waved around as if it would explain away his actions, before he was winking at Y/n, his face speaking volumes to his knowledge of in love Oscar was for her, and leaving.

—

Throughout the night, Oscar and Y/n were adored by the attendees of the party. Everyone’s straight faces broke out into smiles as soon as the couple came into sight.

It was safe to say, they were the popular topic of conversation for the night.

The same thing happened with the internet the next day. Photos of the costumes practically broke the internet as everyone discussed how cute the private couple had been. With his green tie and her stuffed animal, fans continuously talked about their iconic choice of costume.

As weeks went on, fans began to recover from the cute pictures. That was, however, until videos of Oscar on the Australian Track accidentally knocking the cute, little stuffed animal out of his backpack. It had been slung over one shoulder when Lando ran into him, the British boy trying desperately to avoid an older man who was asking for his signature, and the toy flopped onto the ground. The two had stood there, animal on the floor between them, staring down at it as Lando tried to process his friend carrying around a child’s toy and Oscar’s cheeks reddened in embarrassment.

It had been swiped from the ground by Oscar when it sunk in that his secret had been revealed. Truth be told, he had been carrying the stuffed animal around since his and Y/n’s Halloween appearance, but he had kept it locked away in his carry-on, not his backpack. The only reason why it had taken a spot in his bag for the Australian track was because he had missed Y/n more than usual and he knew any moment he could take to look at it would be needed. Thus, making him understand that putting it in his backpack would allow for quicker, easier access.

However, as Lando’s laughing echoed in his ear, he knew he had made a grave mistake.

—

Teasing and jokes ensued, obviously, after every angle possible from Scooby-Doo-gate surfaced online. Even Y/n wouldn’t let Oscar live it down, the poor girl having looked for the stuffed animal for weeks after Oscar had stolen it from her. Her friends had sent her videos and pictures the moment they woke up and saw them, the girls having grown tired of Y/n complaining about losing it.

“Looks like you never lost it after all.” Her friends had texted her, followed by an overwhelming amount of heart and sparkle emojis.

“Boy is so whipped COME ON.” They continued, determined to not let her live it down.

The best part, however, was the fact that, when he came home, her friends took it upon themselves to make fun of him.

“Where’s the stuffed animal, Oscar?” She had tried, but Oscar was quick to say, “You’re lucky I love her.”

Laughing, her best friend had looked him dead in the eyes and countered, “Yeah, we know you love her by the stuffed dog you can’t sleep without at night now.”

[unsolvedjarin]

omg after reading part two of the mentor!seb x ferrari driver!reader fic i NEED something where he actually tries to play matchmaker for reader and mick😭 Like him giving so many hints but reader is just oblivious and Seb decides to take matter into his own hands yk?

Only if you’re open to it ofc! 🥰🥰

BEES, AMONG OTHER THINGS.

pairing: (mick schumacher x driver! reader) (mentor! sebastian vettel x reader)

note: HEY. i havent written anything in weeks and its been KILLING me. ive been so burnt out lately its crazy, but seeing seb in suzuka did give me a bit of motivation (although this is more of a mick-centric fic, my boy deserves it.) anyways sorry for letting this stew for so long anon, hopefully i can write more soon ive missed it tbh

summary: suzuka finds itself not only an interesting spot for bee hotels, but for reunions and confrontations as well.

content warning: none, except its a little all over the place and once again i havent grammar checked this im so sorry it’s three in the morning

previous part, but can be read without <3

When Sebastian invited the grid to his bee hotel opening, he expected maybe five or six people to come, but not this.

Everyone was coming.

And by everyone, I mean everyone. The drivers, the reserves, even the team principals, had all confirmed their appearance for the event. Sebastian knew he was loved by the grid, but the thought of all of them coming together for him still made his heart swell.

It was one in the afternoon, just thirty minutes before they were about to actually start the event. While the participation of the drivers were confirmed, they were still coming in one by one, some later than the others. Sebastian was in a particularly interesting conversation with Fernando about flowers when a poke to his shoulder captured his attention.

He turned around to find you, standing there behind him, waiting for him to finish his conversation with excitement you couldn’t contain. It was the first time you’ve seen each other since Silverstone, and even then you barely had time to talk to each other.

Before he could say anything, you jumped into his arms and hugged him so tight that Sebastian thought he would lose oxygen— but he still hugged you back with equal enthusiasm.

“Sebastian!” you screamed, being spun around once by the man. He missed you so much. Sebastian wasn’t particularly the greatest texter, and calling wasn’t something you were fond of, so besides the occasional visit you barely talked.

“Y/N, I thought you’d never come,” he says with a grin. He knew you were coming, of course. You would never miss out on this. You give him a playful shove, before giving Fernando a quick hug as well. In the year Seb has been gone, you had gotten closer with the Aston Martin driver who replaced him.

Fernando excuses himself quickly after, knowing you and Sebastian had some catching up to do. “Don’t tell me you’ve replaced me with him,” Sebastian jokes the second the Spaniard was out of earshot.

“Why, are you jealous?” you teased. He scoffs in reply, but you could hear the hint of jealousy in his tone. “Don’t worry Seb, while I love his talk about flowers, you talking my ear off about bees still appeals to me more.”

That makes him smile.

“I’m glad you prefer my infodumping, then.”

The fact that you taught him that term makes your grin even wider. “Anytime.”

You wanted to talk with him more, to tell him how you’ve been doing the past few months, but before you could, some PR person swooped in to film some videos with him.

“Ah, sorry liebling,” Sebastian sighs. He leans in and whispers in your ear, “One thing I haven’t missed are these media hungry people.”

You stifle a giggle, before nudging him away from you. “Go on, it’s your event, this is your own doing.”

He rolls his eyes but walks away nonetheless, following the person from the media. Before he moves out of earshot, however, he shouts, “Oh by the way, Mick is here! Don’t be shy, go talk to him.”

Oh the bastard.

Half the grid must have heard that. You look at him with shock and a light blush on your cheeks but are met only with a cheeky grin from the man before he turns around to fully walk away.

Admittedly though, he was right. You hadn’t been talking to Mick much. You had a few lunches with him after Seb retired but without his third wheeling company, it just felt awkward to go out with the reserve driver one on one. You started thinking he just ate with you because he felt bad for you or something of the sort.

“Penny for your thoughts?” A voice snaps you out of your thinking.

“Jesus! Lewis, don’t give me a heart attack like that.”

The Mercedes driver laughs before replying, “Sorry, you just looked tense. Thinking about the race?”

“Not really, just some other stuff.”

“Like what? Like Mick?”

You almost choked on your own saliva right there and then. “Wh- what? What would— haha— make you think that? No that’s crazy, I’m just thinking about the bees! Yeah, because like the bee hotel and stuff I love b—”

“Sebastian wasn’t really quiet talking to you just then, you know.” He comments, cutting you off.

“Oh I’ll kill him.”

“Doubt it, you’ve missed him too much these past months to kill him immediately.”

“Touché, maybe I’ll wait a few more then.”

“Stop avoiding the question, why’re you thinking about Mick?” Lewis asks, not giving the topic up. Oh what the hell, Sebastian trusts him right? So you could trust him.

Thinking of how you could word your thoughts properly, you start, “I kinda— I dunno— I mean he’s a nice guy, he’s pretty sweet, and we’re friends obviously so it’d be—”

“You like him don’t you.” Lewis cuts you off for the second time in a row.

“Yeah.”

“Damn,” he sighs, letting it linger for a moment. “That’s crazy.”

A beat of silence passes. “You’re not gonna say anything else?”

“Say anything else about what?” Sebastian butts in your conversation, clearly just having finished his short interview. He takes his place beside you, scooching in between you and Lewis instead of taking up the free space on the other side.

“Oh, Y/N was just talking about how she likes Mick.”

“Was not!” You exclaim.

“Was too,” Lewis retorts. His teasing never ceased to amuse and annoy you at the same time.

“I think I’m going to believe Lewis on this one. After all, you did tell me, and I quote, you ‘sorta have a little maybe crush’ on Mick.”

You hang your mouth agape incredulously before slapping Seb on the arm, “I told you that in confidence!”

Seb laughs before defending himself, “Well Lewis knows now! Besides, it’s not like you’ve been that discrete about it.”

You look at Lewis who shrugs in reply, “It’s true. Pretty obvious when a Ferrari driver keeps hanging around the Mercedes garage, mate.”

Oh well, cat’s out of the bag. There’s no point in keeping it secret from Lewis now, you think. Putting your head in your hands, you groan, “That’s the problem! I’m always at the Mercedes garage talking to you or Toto or even George but never him!”

“Well why don’t you…talk to him?”

“Great advice Sherlock, gee, got any more good ones for me?” You ask Sebastian sarcastically. While you and Seb banter though, Lewis recalls a conversation he had with Mick one late night back in Singapore.

“Hey Lew, was Y/N here earlier?”

Lewis, who was packing up to go home, redirects his focus to the only remaining guy in the garage save for a few engineers. “Yeah, she visited right after the race to congratulate me. Why’re you looking for her?”

“Oh nothing, just asking.” Mick replies, fiddling with his hands. Even in his tired state, Lewis could tell that there was more the young driver wasn’t saying.

“C’mon, spit it out.” Lewis says, taking a seat on a random chair and patting the one beside him for Mick to take a seat. The younger driver hesitates for a moment before sighing and sitting down. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Better than anyone. Do you know what happened when Alonso crashed his McLaren back in 2015?”

“No, what?”

“Exactly,” Lewis replies with a grin. “So what is it?”

“I…” Mick sighs, unable to find the right words for what he was trying to say. “I think I like Y/N.”

There, it’s out in the open, he thinks. Mick waits for a reply from Lewis, but gets none. “Hello?”

Another beat of silence.

“Okay, this is starting to scare me.”

Lewis finally snaps out of his trance-like state, before getting up and continuing to pack up his things. “Okay.”

“That’s it? Okay?”

“Well I thought it’d be something more secretive,” he says, putting up bunny ears.

“It is secretive,” Mick replies, mocking Lewis’ bunny ears. “No one knows.”

“Eh, I’m not so sure about that mate. I mean if you exclude Sebastian, Fernando, Toto, and myself, then sure, no one knows.”

Oh shit. Was he that obvious? “How- how did you all figure it out?”

“Well for one, if constantly tailing Sebastian and Y/N last year was your attempt at being discreet, then it was a horrible attempt. Second, you need to stop turning red and running away whenever she’s at the garage giving out food and what not. I can’t keep asking her for extra donuts for you forever, you know?”

Mick blushed slightly at the comment, not realizing how every time you came around to the garage he’d been unwillingly avoiding you out of fear you wouldn’t want to talk to him.

Lewis pats Mick on the back, getting ready to leave. “Listen man, if I were you, I’d make a move. That opportunity won’t last forever, plus, it seems like they like you back. Didn’t you guys go out together just the two of you a couple of times?”

Mick shrugged, “I don’t know, I mean I think she did that just because she felt bad for me being alone in the grid and because she missed Sebastian.”

Lewis internally rolled his eyes. He’s seen the way you look at Mick, there’s no way you didn’t like him too. “You have to stop doubting yourself. I mean the worst she can do is say no, right?”

“The worst she can do is avoid me for the rest of my life because I misread all the signs and she actually hates me.”

“That’s the spirit!” Lewis replied sarcastically, before murmuring a goodbye and leaving the garage.

That was weeks ago now, but the conversation was still stuck in Lewis’ head. He’d been right all along, you did like Mick back.

“Hey Seb, can I talk to you in private really quickly?” He speaks up, making you and the retired driver stop your bantering for a moment.

“You can say it in front of Y/N, it’s fine.” Seb replied. He trusted you completely with anything and everything.

“Well not if it’s about her.”

“Hey!” you complain. “Are you openly gossiping about me?”

“Listen, if you want our help, then let us huddle for a minute.”

Rolling your eyes, you sigh and nod at them. You really really liked Mick, but you were too much of a pussy to do anything about it. So if these two old twats could help you, then so be it.

Lewis pulls Seb to the side for a moment, inhaling deeply before talking softly so you couldn’t hear. “Okay, so here’s the thing. Mick told me he likes Y/N.”

Sebastian whips his head to face Lewis, “Holy shit, I knew it. I knew he wasn’t going out with us all the time last year for no reason.”

“Yeah, he’s not so discreet. Here’s the problem though, he firmly believes Y/N may hate him, and you know that Y/N believes Mick only likes her as a friend.”

“So what you’re saying is they’re both hopeless?”

“Without our help, basically yes.”

“God I can’t believe they haven’t caught a clue,” Sebastian sighs. “I even excused myself from multiple meals so I could leave the two of them alone even for a few minutes.”

“You’re telling me mate, I basically had to shove Mick towards her whenever she was at the garage or in hospitality.”

Meanwhile, while the two men were devising on their own, you were getting antsy. What could they possibly be coming up with? You didn’t really want to think about it too much, so you decided to take a walk around the track. After all, the event was about to start, so you might as well familiarize yourself with your surroundings.

You went through the unpainted bee hotels, admiring their woodwork and the effort it must’ve taken to make them. Sebastian had sent you a text at three in the morning yesterday saying “Finished! :-)” with a picture of the bee hotels attached, so you knew he put hard work into this project. You were happy that he was doing something he loved while retired, but at the same time you missed him terribly on the grid. It was lonely, you will admit, without him by your side. Sure you had your teammate Charles and the support of your fellow drivers, but it never felt like anyone truly knew you on the track besides Seb.

Stuck in your thoughts, you failed to notice the man who was walking up behind you mustering the courage to strike a conversation. You turn around to check out another bee hotel when you bump straight into Mick walking up to you.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

“Ow—” you hold your head in pain, which you bumped into the bee hotel roof when you recoiled backwards from the hit. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

Great, Mick thought. Now what?

You’ve made a fool of yourself, congratulations, you thought.

Sebastian was about to walk over to see what all the commotion was about, when Lewis put a hand out and stopped him. “Look who bumped into her.”

Sebastian squinted a little— his eyesight had gotten worse but he refused to get glasses— and grins when he realizes who it is. “Best leave them to it then, I have an event to organize anyways.”

Meanwhile, Mick had no clue what to do. You were holding your head in pain, with your eyes closed trying to regain stability from the dizziness, and he was just standing there awkwardly trying to figure out what the right move was. Should he ask you again if you were alright? Should he hold you to stabilize you?

Well, why not both. Without thinking, he holds your shoulders, crouching down a little to look you in your eye, and asking a simple “You okay?”

You open your eyes, squinting because of the sun, and are met with a set of beautiful blue ones staring at you. Holy fucking shit. Now you don't know what to do.

“Uh— yeah, just hit my head. No biggie honestly, all good here,” you reply awkwardly. God, was it this hard to talk to him when Sebastian was around?

Mick lets go of your shoulders— you miss his touch already— and straightens up, nodding. “Good. Sorry for hitting you, I thought you heard me walking up.”

“No, it’s my fault honestly. Was stuck in my own thoughts. Nice that you pulled me out,” you joked, praying to whatever higher power was listening that it stuck.

Thankfully it did, and Mick let out a small giggle at your quip. It was enough for your stomach to do flips. And even though you had no clue, you joking around with him made his stomach do the same thing too. The simple interaction was enough to make him think that maybe you weren’t just hanging around with him before because you pitied him.

“You know,” Mick starts, before he loses confidence to breach the topic. He was here anyway, so might as well. “You’re always at the Mercedes garage but I never see you. I am sorry about that.”

You raised an eyebrow at him in confusion. Why was he sorry? You were the one who avoided him out of nervousness whenever you were there.

“You don’t have to be sorry about that, honestly, that’s my fault anyway. Same with our lunches before, I’m sorry we did those less and less. I guess I got too caught up in the races. We should have another one here in Japan!” You add the last part haphazardly, not really thinking about what you’re saying because if you do you’ll lose confidence.

It was too late when you realized what you said, and terrified to see Mick’s reaction to the invitation, you stare at anything but him. Wow, the sky was blue today. How interesting.

Mick, on the other hand, was frozen on the spot. Did he hear that correctly? Were you inviting him to lunch for the first time in months?

Before the reserve driver could get his hopes up, however, he realized what was different this time. Sebastian was around.

Oh. Maybe that was the only reason you invited him this time around. Because, again, like before, you felt sorry for him being alone and you had the confidence to ask him because Sebastian was here.

“Would…Sebastian be coming?” He asked. He wasn’t a religious man by any means, but he begged God at that moment you would say no. He had nothing against the retired driver of course, he was like an uncle to him, but it would determine— for him at least— if you were going out with him out of pity or because you actually wanted to.

You, on the other hand, had a completely different interpretation of that question.

Did Mick not want to have lunch with you without Sebastian because he didn’t want to spend time with you? Did he feel like you were too awkward? Too weird? You stopped yourself before you could spiral even more.

“I mean, do you want him to?”

“Honestly? No.” Mick hears himself say without thinking. His eyes widened a bit at the fact that he said that aloud, making you giggle. It lifts the tension a bit and the air feels freer talking to him.

“Tsk tsk, I’ll make sure to tell him that.”

“Please don’t, I’ll never hear the end of it. I just meant—” Mick pauses for a second, finding it difficult to word his thoughts.

Oh fuck it. Fuck it all. “I want it to be you, just you.”

Oh.

Oh.

“Oh.” Before Mick can regret saying anything and repeatedly apologize for the implications of what he said, you tug on his shirt a little to get him to look at you. “Me too.”

He lets out a sigh of relief, laughing a bit at himself. “Thank god, I thought I made the wrong move there.”

“God no,” you laugh out. “I’m glad you said that honestly, I thought you just hung out with me before for Sebastian.”

Mick raised his eyebrows in confusion. Was that what you’d been thinking this whole time? “I thought you were just hanging out with me because you felt bad I was alone without Seb.”

This time you both look at each other, confused. You had both gotten it completely wrong.

The absurdity of it all makes you burst out laughing, and you try to cover it up with your hand but to no avail. “I’m sorry I just— ha!— I can’t believe I’ve been reading it wrong this whole time! I even avoided you in the garages because I thought you felt awkward around me.”

“I hid whenever you were at the garage because I thought you didn’t wanna talk to me,” Mick replied bashfully, scratching the back of his neck. “In hindsight, that was pretty stupid, I suppose I wouldn’t ever know if you liked talking to me or not if I kept avoiding you.”

“Hold on, is that why Lewis always asked for extra food when I came around?”

“Yeah,” he answered, feeling embarrassed. It all felt so foolish now.

“That was stupid,” you tease. “So…what now?”

“I suppose we can just,” Mick gestures aimlessly with his hands. “Restart.”

You smile at him, liking the simplicity of the idea. After dancing around each other for a year, this is exactly what you wanted. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

“What you were saying earlier, lunch? I know a good place. It’s pretty far from the track, but they have the best ramen and— hello Seb…?”

Unbeknownst to you, Sebastian had slowly inched himself closer to where you two were standing, trying to overhear your conversation. He was now stood a few meters away from you, pretending to be taking care of his bee hotel.

“You sneaky bastard!” you exclaim, slapping him on his shoulder for the second time that day. “How long have you been eavesdropping on our conversation?”

“I just got here!” Sebastian replied, trying to defend himself. He’d actually been standing there for a couple minutes, but if none of you had noticed, then it was better for him to not bring it up. “Anyway, I came to say we’re starting the event. Charles is looking for you at the Ferrari station, Y/N.”

Sebastian moves to leave, but turns back around, standing beside you. “And Mick, if it’s no bother, you could come with me and Y/N to Disneyland on Tuesday. Only if you’d like, of course.”

“We’re going to Disneyland?” You ask, but a quick glance at Sebastian's expression and you realize what he was trying to do. “Oh! Yeah, we totally planned on going to Disneyland. You should come with us.”

“Yeah! Sure, I have nothing to do anyways. And lunch on Monday, Y/N?” Mick replies. You give him a soft smile and nod in response.

Seb looks at you in confusion, “Am I part of these lunch plans?”

“No.”

“Great to know. Anyways, to the Ferrari station liebe, chop chop,” Seb retorts, putting his arm around you to pull you towards the station. As much as he wanted you and Mick to talk more, he also wanted his event to get going.

“Talk later!” you shout, being practically dragged by Sebastian. Mick laughs at the sight, waving a goodbye to you and the retired driver. He felt like he won the lottery. You might not like him the way he liked you, but this was a start. This meant that you hung around him for him.

“Was the plan you and Lewis came up with simply inviting Mick to go to Disneyland?” You ask, the second you were far away enough from Mick.

Sebastian shrugs, “Yeah, basically.”

“Oh you pricks. Thank God I didn’t rely on you two then.”

“Hey! We tried,” Seb remarked. “But we saw you two getting along without our help so we decided to leave you two to it. What did you even talk about?”

“Our shared hatred for you,” you replied with no hesitation. You look over at Sebastian with a grin, watching him roll his eyes, smiling.

“Well if that’s what it took for you two to talk, then I’d happily be the butt of your conversations.”

God. Why did he have to be so nice about it? “I’m just kidding Seb, we just cleared up some misunderstandings. Honestly we should’ve talked sooner, it was such a relief to find out I’d just been overthinking our interactions.”

“Like you do with half of all things, schatz,” Sebastian says softly, smiling at you. He was right, you did overthink too much.

“I know,” you sigh. “I’m trying to change.”

“That’s great, but you know what you should try first before that?” Seb asks with a playful look on his face. He comes to a stop in front of a bee hotel and grabs a paintbrush from beside it, putting it in your hands. “You should try participating in the event.”

“Cheeky bastard,” you mutter, grinning. You didn’t even notice you had walked all the way to the Ferrari station until then. You greet Charles, who was already there, before facing Sebastian again. “Still can’t believe you and Lewis’ plan was just Disneyland. Remind me to never trust you ever again.”

“Love you too,” Seb retorts sarcastically, grinning as he walks away to assist the other drivers. You shake your head with a smile, before facing the bee hotel again. Cheeky bastard.

Sebastian and Lewis had planned more than just Disneyland of course, they weren’t stupid. But the first phase of their plan was complete. Sebastian smiled to himself as he watched Mick talking to Lewis at the Mercedes station, ready to operate the second part of their ‘genius’ plan.

It was going to be a long, interesting week for all of them.

[rollingsins]

all hers, part xxvi

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | part viii | part ix | part x | part xi | part xii | part xiii | part xiv | part xv | part xvi | part xvii | part xviii | part xix | part xx | part xxi | part xxii | part xxiii | part xxiv | part xxv | part xxvi | epilogue

summary: In the aftermath of everything, back to Woodsboro YN and Tara go.

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, mention of violence.

word count: 2.3k

a/n: this is a bit of a nothing chapter, apologies in advance. This is also the penultimate chapter, part of why I've been procrastinating so long. but alas, all good things must come to an end ;'))

The trip back to Woodsboro hospital is smoother than anticipated. 

The morphine does wonders for your pain, but not so much for your coherence. By the time you’re rolled out into the ambulance, you’ve told Tara how pretty she is at least six times and declared Sam ‘best sister-in-law in the world’ at least three. 

Thankfully, Nurse Rosario is nowhere to be found. 

Although Tara had mellowed slightly after your last talk, you’re not keen for a repeat. After she’d plied you with enough morphine to take down a horse, she’d disappeared. Perhaps heeding the warning of Tara’s stormy glare. 

Tara rides in the ambulance with you, her hand pressed in yours. Sam sits beside you (Dewey had re-romandeered the car they’d stolen with a sigh and a forgiving smile). 

By the time you’re rolled into Woodsboro hospital, it’s near noon. Your Dad’s insurance has paid for a private room for him, your Mom and you and so you tilt your neck eagerly as you’re rolled onto the floor, searching each face for the familiarity of your parents. 

“Your parents are here,” Says one of the EMTs, noticing the way your head tilts around madly, “Your Mom is getting a scan done, your Dad is with her. They’re both okay. They’ll be here soon.” 

“Thanks,” You say, though it doesn’t sate your anxiety. That won’t be gone until they’re both here with you.

The floor is awash with busy doctors and nurses. 

Most don’t give you a second look. 

Except for one. 

Nurse Dawson is standing near one of the nurses stations when you’re rolled into your room. 

You see her first, though Tara doesn’t notice her. 

And when Nurse Dawson turns and sees your girlfriend, her face falls. 

Only for a moment. Her face conflicts, but the professionalism wins out. 

She straightens her shoulders. 

And you can tell by the look on her face she’s the one assigned to you. 

Tara smiles at you as the EMTs settle you into your new bed. Oblivious to the carnage she causes. 

It’s like some sort of reverse superpower. 

The ability to somehow irritate every medical professional assigned to her. 

You sigh and lean back into your pillows as the nurse approaches. 

“YN. Ms Carpenter,” She says politely enough, “Nice to see you again.” 

Tara looks over impatient. You can tell by the lack of recognition in her face she doesn’t recognise the nurse. Instead, she looks over to Sam. 

“Sure,” Says Tara, nonplussed, “I’m going to need another bed in here for my sister. She spent last night on a couple of plastic chairs.”

You look around the room. 

There’s two empty beds - presumably for your mother and father. It’s cramped in here, more so than usual with your family reunion. You can tell before the Nurse speaks Tara isn’t going to like her answer. 

“We don’t have beds to spare for visitors, Tara,” Nurse Dawson says pointedly, “Perhaps you and your sister could come back in the morning.” 

Tara stares a moment. 

Then her eyes narrow. 

You tug gently at her hand trying to draw her attention. 

“Babe,” You touch her arm gently, “Maybe it’s not a terrible idea. You and Sam could both go home and get some rest.”

“Absolutely not,” Tara says, voice indignant, “I’m not leaving you alone, baby.”

“Mom and Dad will be here with me,” You assure, but Tara’s turned her glare towards you, “Seriously babe. I’ll be okay.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Says Tara, voice final. She shoots a look over to Nurse Dawson, “I’ll sleep on the floor if I have to.” 

-

Your Mom is wheeled back in first. 

You sit up in your bed so abruptly you almost knock Tara to the floor. 

Your Mom is misty-eyed, gaze a little unfocused, undoubtedly strung out on pain medication. Her eyes well when she sees you, hand twitching as she sits a little taller in her seat. 

“Mom,” You croak, “Mom, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, darling,” She says. The nurse wheels her into the slot beside you and she reaches for your hand, “Are you okay?” 

Sam wanders off to leave you to your reunion, but Tara stays nestled into your side. Your Mom’s leg is gone, and you can’t help the flood of tears that burst through each time your gaze wanders down. 

“It’s alright, YN,” Your Mom assures, “I’m alive. Dad’s alive. You’re alive. That’s all that matters.” 

Your Dad follows in, shortly after. 

He’s in a wheelchair, looking so frail with dark circles under his eyes and milky, pale skin. He squeezes your hand and leans forward to press a kiss to your cheek.

And then he surveys Tara. 

She’s sitting up now, your hand still pressed firmly in hers. He watches quietly for a moment. You almost think he’s about to ask her to leave when he reaches out, and outstretches his hand. 

Tara blinks in surprise. 

Your eyebrows furrow. 

Your Dad looks serious. The kind of seriousness usually accompanied by a raise in tone or the promise of his shotgun. But there’s none of that now.  

Hesitantly, Tara takes his hand. 

“Thank you,” He says, as she clasps her hand in his. He shakes it firmly, “Thank you for saving my daughter.”

Tara doesn’t say anything. 

You look at your Dad. His voice is earnest, his brows pinched.

He looks open.

Like he’s about to cry. 

“Dad,” You say, voice soft.

He squeezes Tara’s hand once, then lets her go. Slowly, he wheels towards you, eyes misty. 

“You,” He says as he pulls you into a hug, “Are never leaving my side again.” 

He pulls back slightly and thinks. 

“Or hers.” 

-

When the dust settles and your Dad has got the last of his dewey, sappy words out, the room moves back into normality. 

Normality now, it seems, is absurdity. 

Tara and your Dad are watching a ball game together. You survey them, eyebrow raised, sharing a look of bewilderment with Sam as she walks back into the room. 

“Hey,” Says Sam, tray of donuts in hand. Tara and your Dad don’t look up from the TV, “What are we watching?” 

“Giants,” Says Tara. She lounges back into your hospital bed, nestling her head on your shoulder, “Flores is killing it.” 

“About damn time,” Grumbles your Dad, “He spent the last game striking out.” 

“Speaking of striking out,” You say, eyebrow raised at Sam, “Did you speak to Nurse Dawson about a spare bed?” 

Sam shakes her head. 

“It’s fine,” She says, “I’d rather sleep in my own bed anyway. Besides,” 

She eyes your Mom and Dad.

“It seems like a family affair in here anyway. You’re sure you don’t want to come with me, Tara? The nurse seemed pretty insistent that no more beds would fit.” 

“I’m sure.” Tara says, voice flat. She curls a protective arm around your waist. 

You flash Sam a small smile, “It’s fine, Sam. She can sleep with me. She’s little, she fits.” 

Sam purses her lips. 

Tara glares up at you. 

“I am not little.” She says, frowning. 

You press a kiss to her lips. 

“Okay, then big guy, better go home with Sam.” You tease. 

She pouts. Nudges her face into your neck. 

“I fit,” She tells Sam, and then turns her attention back to the ball game. 

Sam makes her departure, shortly thereafter. Your Dad falls asleep midway through the game, your Mom is wheeled off for an MRI at just the moment Tara’s friends make an appearance. 

Liv’s bought flowers, Chad and Mindy follow in with wide eyes. They hug you, settle down into the seats by your bed, careful not to wake your snoring Father. 

“Hey,” Mindy says, “How are you feeling?” 

“She’s okay,” Says Tara, smoothing your hair back, “Now the morphines kicked in, right baby?” 

“Right,” You echo, sitting up slightly. 

Liv smiles. 

“These are for you,” She says, “Tara said they were your favorite.” 

“Thanks Liv,” You say with a smile. 

Mindy settles on the chair to your left, Chad and Liv hover near the end of your bed. 

Mindy leans over to you, a little wide eyed. 

“The Sheriff,” She says, chewing her lip, “Damn it. I should have guessed.” 

“I just don’t understand,” Says Liv, eyebrows pinched, “Why would she kill her own son?” 

Tara shifts, uncomfortably. Mindy rolls her eyes. 

“She didn’t kill her own son, dumbass,” Says Mindy, “Isn’t it obvious?” 

You swallow. 

“There’s no body” Mindy says, leaning forward in her seat, a little excited, “When Ghostface kills, there’s always a body.” 

Liv blinks back at her. 

“What if…” Mindy says, eyes squinted like she’s thinking hard, “What if Wes isn’t dead at all. What if that’s just what he wanted us all to think? What if there’s a third Ghostface, and it’s him?”

Your heart hammers. 

A wave of nausea rises at the theory, but before you can voice your displeasure, Chad beats you too it. 

“Give it up, Nancy Drew,” He says, shaking his head, “You haven’t been right a single time. All those powerpoints for nothing. I think it’s time to pack it in.” 

Mindy pouts, slumping back in her seat.

“I could have been right,” She says, but Chad raises a hand. 

“But you weren’t. Jesus. Leave it alone.” 

He pats your hand, not unkindly, “The important thing is Ghostface is gone and YN and Tara are okay.” 

“Thanks Chad,” You say. 

He leans back in his seat, eyebrows pinched. 

“I just don’t get why she did it at all,” Says Chad, tilting his head in a frown, “Same with Richie. Why? It all seems so pointless.” 

Tara stirs, pressing a comforting kiss to the side of your neck. 

“That’s for the police to figure out,” She says, squeezing your hand, “For now? Let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth.” 

-

The days pass by in a blur of morphine, and nausea and the blare of Tara and your Dad’s newfound hobby of watching sports games together. 

Tara sleeps at your side, dotes on you like a baby bird who has fallen from the nest. 

Sam stops by in the afternoons, Nurse Dawson avoids the two of you as best she can, coming into your room wordlessly and appraising Tara with a resentful glare everytime she changes your bandages. 

Dewey returns to take your statement, takes Tara and Sam away for hours to question them, but ultimately, the case is clear cut. 

The Sheriff is Ghostface, Richie her accomplice, and by the seventh day of your hospital stay, Dewey informs you the police are closing the case as solved. 

It would be worrying - the police’s utter lack of comprehension - had it not been in your favor. 

So you nod your head and squeeze Tara’s hand as you accept his apology for the Woodsboro police failing you both. 

“We’ll be suing the police department,” Says your Father curtly, before Dewey can make his exit, “For gross negligence and endangering the life of my daughter.” 

You sigh. 

Tara cocks her head, as if she’s about to list off a variety of law firms she’s learned of through her extensive research before you squeeze her shoulder, and pull her back down to you. 

Your Mother huffs before you can say anything. 

“We’re not suing anybody,” Says your Mom firmly. She offers Dewey the smallest of smiles, “Thank you, Deputy Riley.”

“We should be suing the police,” Tara grumbles later, when she’s helping you into the back of Sam’s car. 

You’d be discharged by a happy Nurse Dawson. Your Mom and Dad would stay a little longer in the hospital while you slept over at Tara’s for a few nights. 

Hospitals give you the creeps, and you didn’t want to spend any more time there than necessary. 

Tara slips your seatbelt around your waist and you pull her in for a brief kiss. 

“What’s all that about not looking a gift horse in the mouth?” You say quietly as Sam slips into the drivers seat and Tara falls quiet. 

Your stomach is still a little sore - you feel it now as Tara and Sam help you up the staircase to her bedroom. 

“Watch it Sam, you neanderthal,” Tara snaps as Sam almost steps on your foot as they're half-carrying you to bed. 

You scold her if you had the strength. Instead, you focus all your energy into trying not to focus on the searing pain in your side as Tara slips you into her sheets. 

“Sorry, YN,” Sam says quietly before Tara shoos her out. 

You’re sweating a little, gone is the morphine. Nurse Dawson had put you on something else - something a little less addictive, and a little more prone to letting the pain in. 

You groan as Tara slides into the spot next to you, soothing your pain with the press of her lips. 

“Does it hurt, baby?” She asks, brown eyes mournful, “Do you want me to get you your pills?” 

You shake your head. 

The pain stings, like a dull ache, but it doesn’t hurt so much you need more. You touch her arm, nestle yourself into her side. 

“Just stay with me and I’ll be fine,” You say, as she curls her arm around your waist. She leans down and places a protective kiss to the top of your head. 

“I don’t like seeing you like this,” She admits, softly. You lean up and she presses the softest kiss to your lips, “Do you want me to see if Chad can get you something stronger?” 

“No babe,” You chide, gently, “I’m fine.” 

Tara thinks. 

“Do you want me to go down on you?” She asks, hopeful, “That might make you feel better.” 

You laugh. 

“Might make me feel better, or you feel better?” You ask. 

“Both,” She says with a pout. 

You lean up to her, press another warm kiss to her lips.

“Just stay with me,” You say, “As long as you’re here I’ll be fine.” 

Tara rubs her hand along the stretch of your back. 

“Okay,” She says, voice soft, “I’ll just stay here with you.”

[seoktized]

one thing that has been stuck in my mind for a whole week is threesome with sungchan and seunghan 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 idk ive been imagining seunghan eating you out and sungchan covers your mouth with one hand and play with your boobs with his other hand 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 im going insane

a/n: ALDKDKDNDKS SMASHH also i’m sorry this turned out so long omg i got Carried away

warnings: fingering, oral (f + m. receiving), squirting

but no i see sungchan making you suck on his long fingers bc you’re moaning so loud. but it’s not ur fault!! seunghan was eating your pussy so good how could you NOT moan!!

explicit content under the cut <3

»»————-　♡　————-««

seunghan started to finger you as he licked at your clit. his actions caused a muffled, but still loud moan to escape your mouth. sungchan watched as you your eyes rolled to the back of your head and how you arched your back.

the hand over your mouth seemed to be doing nothing so he decided to place two of his fingers in your mouth. wordlessly telling you to suck on them.

seeing you sucking on his fingers made sungchan even harder almost to the point where it was painful. he moved you ever so slightly so he could slide from behind you.

you were now face level with his cock, you watched as he slid his sweats down to his ankles. you went wide eyed at the size of his bulge, looking up at him then back down.

sungchan palmed himself over his underwear before pulling them down. his cock sprung out and hit his stomach. he was huge.

you obviously knew he wanted him to suck you off, but you decided to act oblivious so he could tell you what he wanted.

“baby you know what i want.. did seunghan turn you dumb from just eating your pussy?” he said while one of his fingers traced your jawline.

his other hand wrapped around the base of his cock, pumping slowly. he tapped his dick against your lips as a way of telling you to open up. you complied and he pushed his cock into your mouth.

as you allowed him to fuck your mouth, sungchan groaned as he watched you lips stretch over his girth. seunghan was still lapping at your folds watching as sungchan held your head, thrusting at a steady pace.

you felt full as seunghan now had three fingers inside your pussy, still kissing and sucking on your clit. you looked up at sungchan— his eyes flickering back and forth to your mouth and your pussy—his eyebrows were furrowed and his mouth was agape.

between seunghan fucking your pussy so well with his fingers and sungchan using your mouth, your orgasm approached quickly.

this one though felt different, the buildup of your release felt more intense. you closed your eyes tightly as your high washed over you. seunghan’s fingers slowed down as you came down from your high. as you opened you eyes you saw sungchan staring wide eyed at your lower area.

“fuck baby, was i that good?” seunghan chuckled.

confused, you released sungchan from your mouth and looked down to see that you had squirted.

“that was so hot.. but can you finish me off?” sungchan asked, pointing to his cock.

you nodded, still feeling a little woozy from your release. taking sungchan back into your mouth you sucked harder, trying to get him to finish quickly. sungchan’s hand found place in your hair, gripping it roughly.

it didn’t take long for him to finish, his cum coating the inside of your mouth. you let him drop from your mouth, looking up as you swallowed his cum.

sungchan watched with a smile, “such a good girl for me.” his hand went up to rub your cheek.

“me next?” seunghan said with a smile.

[delwrites]

Hey 😚 i saw you were open to request so here i am haha but totally fine if you wanna skip it tho

Ive been really into friends to secret lover trope lately

Could you write a james x reader were childhood friend and around their sixth year in hogwarts they realized their feeling and they started to secretly dating and no one knows!

The story could focus on how they got caught? Maybe a slip up during an argument? Or that reader looks so beautiful james just couldn’t help it? Or just plain old getting caught making out in the broom closet? 😅

Hey angel, thanks so much for the request! <3

Having been friends with James since your meeting him in your guys’ first year, you pride yourself on knowing all of his little habits, able to read him like a book. So when you were curled up on the sofa, himself sprawled out across the armchair beside you huffing and puffing away, it was more than obvious to you that something was up.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” you ask, turning your body as best you can to fully face him, brows creasing as you do so. He only hums inquisitively at this, refusing to look at you as he appears to find his own hands much more interesting, fidgeting away.

“Seriously, Jamie, what’s up?” At your further questioning, he lets out one big sigh as he swings his legs over from where they had been previously stretched out over the handles of the armchair, now sat how the design permitted. 

“Sirius said something to me today, got me thinking…” Realising that that was all he was willing to give you right now, you spin back around with your own huff, hugging one of the common room cushions to your chest. You know James was never too good with words, so a lot of the time you’d appreciate his choosing to stay quiet instead of stumbling over thoughts he could never fully get across.

“Hey, love?” you hum in response, eyes trained on the fire dancing before you. James’ presence always comforted you, and that paired with the warmth emanating before you made your eyes droop more than you’d like to admit. 

“Would you like to go to Hogsmead with me this weekend?”

“Oh, sure” you reply, letting a dopey smile overtake your face. “We can invite Frank and Alice, I’ve been meaning to get her back for coffee-”

“No, darling, I meant just us two?” The implication made you suck in a breath, head whipping round to study any change in his features.

“You mean like.. Like a date?” 

He smiles at you, a heartwarming grin that makes your stomach flip. You’re not too sure where this sudden taking to you has come from, you’d always thought you’d stay in the friend zone forever, doomed to an unrequited love from the most oblivious man you’ve ever known. Of course, your friends had tried to convince you otherwise. Mary would nudge you gently every time she caught James staring at you, to which you’d always brush her off one way or another, making up excuses so as to not get your hopes up. 

Who would’ve guessed that all this time, he was thinking the same about you?

You had both agreed to not tell anyone about your date until you had figured stuff out between the two of you, wanting to be secure in what the other was feeling before going public with anything. It seemed the most sensible thing to do.

But when the day of the date came, you found yourself frustrated at not being able to tell anyone. No one to help pick an outfit out, no one to help you with your hair, no one to talk to. As much as you hated it, you made a promise to James.

 There was a close call where he dragged you by your wrist into a dingy alleyway after having spotted Dorcas as she left a quaint bookshop, holding you against a wall with a finger pressed to his lip in a hush motion, hand placed on your hip to keep you still and steady, lest you run out and make yourselves known. To say the whole ordeal made your heart skip a beat would’ve been an understatement, and the sneaking around was absolutely riveting. 

So you found that what was even more frustrating, was not being able to tell anyone how good the date went. He had greeted you with a bouquet of flowers, charm placed on them to never wilt as well. He had been a gentleman the whole afternoon (he normally is anyway, but even more so this time). He had held every door open for you, even pulling out your chair for you, and paid for the whole ordeal. You felt so safe with him walking next to you, a certain pride overcoming you knowing that he liked you, and you liked him, and gosh he liked you. It was overwhelming and you longed for someone to share it with. But James had your word, and the last thing you wanted to do was mess things up with him. So, you kept your mouth shut, painful as it was.

The next few weeks consisted of you sneaking around everywhere, and although it started off as exciting, you were really starting to get tired of keeping such a daunting secret from your closest friends. There was a lot of sneaking out after curfew to have midnight picnics on the astronomy tower, consisting of snacks James had nabbed from the Great Hall during dinner. A lot of sneaking off with the promise of the bathroom on your lips to professors, instead meeting up just to get these little snippets of alone time with each other, before any of your friends could catch on, let alone someone like Minnie. 

You thought finally going on dates with James Potter would be a good thing, but you came to find that you hated it. Not the dates, they were always amazing. They always made you forget how much you disliked sneaking around, almost making it all worth it. He was amazing, and kind, and funny and gosh you liked him so very much, but the lack of sleep was starting to catch up to you, making you much more irritable than normal. 

Every time you’d sit gathered in the common room with all your friends and who you wished to be your boyfriend, all you’d want is to openly hold his hand, openly admire how good he looked in that one quidditch jumper, and oh wow, to openly kiss him. 

To be fair, he hadn’t even secretly kissed you yet. 

So when you heard Sirius talking to James in the Great Hall about a Hufflepuff girl cheering extra loud for him during their last quidditch match, always staring at him with heart eyes and blushing every time he looked her way, it got on your last nerve. 

“James, can I talk to you please?” you practically grit through your teeth, trying to keep your calm as best as you can. 

“Hold on a sec, you’ve been stealing him away so much lately, what, you guys fucking or something?” Sirius proclaimed, wiggling his eyebrows at the both of you infuriatingly. To say the least, the comment had struck a soft spot, and you wanted now more than ever for James to lift this silly rule, to be confident enough in your relationship to just admit his feelings for you, right there, in front of everybody.

It was too much to hope, as all he did was turn around and join in on the jesting, not even considering how it might make you feel.

“Gosh no, you know we’re just friends, Pads cmon, don’t be like that.” The words cut through you, hurting more than he realised. You didn’t even know what to do, but you weren’t making the decisions, your body was making them for you. You spun on your feet, tears welling up in your eyes, embarrassment overflowing through your veins like blood. You started to walk away, leaving behind you a stunned Sirius and a very regretful James.

In that moment, all conflicting feelings left him, overtaken by wanting (read: needing) to comfort you, any means necessary. He couldn’t stand to see you upset, especially by his own hand. 

When you heard him calling after you, getting up to catch up to you, you could only speed up, trying to get away from him as fast as possible.

“Honey, please, I didn’t mean it, you know I didn’t mean it-” 

It’s no surprise that he catches up to you, jogging in front of you to somewhat block your path, pleading with you to hear him out. When your stubbornness dismissed him, there was only one more thing that he could think to do that would get his point across. After all, actions do speak louder than words. 

He grabs ahold of your face with both hands, opening his mouth to say something, anything, before cutting himself off by planting his lips firmly to yours. 

James Potter really was never very good with words. So it’s a good thing that you could always understand him, words or not.

thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed! i'm always open to constructive criticism and helpful feedback :) a like, comment or reblog goes so far💕

[angel-kyo]

Pay it no mind

Part XXIV

In which reader confesses their feelings to Gojo, but it seems these are not returned (maybe?).

Warnings: reader is on the receiving end of rejection (kinda), and the fact that I'm obsessed with unrequited love is a warning itself. Drinking is mentioned, and there is a bit of cussing. I'll admit Satoru does not look good in this one, neither does reader honestly, but thanks for bearing with me.

Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII, Part IV, Part XV, Part XVI, Part XVII, Part XVIII, Part XIX, Part XX, Part XXI, Part XXII, Part XXIII

----------------------

Ping.

Satoru heard the notification sound from your phone, which had been left unattended on the table in the teacher’s lounge, but he did not pay attention to it.

Ping.

You had gone to the restroom, and he was watching videos on his phone. In fact, he had found a funny video to show you when you came back.

Ping.

Whoever it was probably had a lot to say though.

Ping.

Satoru took his eyes off his phone and looked at yours.

It started ringing, then stopped.

Could that be something urgent? Satoru knew how to unlock your phone; you had showed him. You could access his phone too, although none of your ever used each other’s phone without asking first, but if it was urgent, he should maybe take a look.

He grabbed it.

4 new messages. 1 missed call.

Haruki: I did not want to say anything before, but I’m sorry if I weirded you out last night when I called you. Haruki: I was emotional and talked too much. Haruki: The whole thing with my father makes me drink more than I should and do things I should probably not do, and it’s… well, you know. Haruki: But I don’t regret it at all.

Satoru thought he did not need to read that. It looked like Ikeda had some family issues he vented to you about.

However, even if he did not want to, he could almost sympathize with the guy.

“Is that my phone?” you asked, reappearing before Gojo.

He stretched his arm out so you would take the phone he was still holding. “It was ringing.”

A moment later, your words confirmed what Gojo thought. “It’s Haruki… His father has been bugging him for money, but he does not really want to see him again.”

Gojo recalled you had told him something about how complicated his relationship with his father was.

I guess it makes sense he wants a friend to call, someone who will listen to him.

Not that he could make peace with you being that friend just yet, but he knew better than to say that aloud, so he hummed in response.

“Must be tough for him.”

***

Now that he looked back on it, that had happened two weeks ago, the morning he had returned to Japan only to find out that you would be clocking in late that day.

He had wondered what your friend could have said to "weird you out". What was the thing he did not regret? Why had you left the room to give him a call after that?

Satoru had tried, really tried to live with the fact that Ikeda was your friend, a friend that might have called you being wasted out of his mind to complain about the awful father he had. That was the explanation he had given to himself.

He never imagined you would have gone out to drink with the guy, maybe even spent the night with him, and then what? Eaten breakfast at his place just before clocking in at work to greet your obliviously hopeful best friend, if he could still consider himself as such, as if nothing had happened?

To think Satoru, overworked and sleep deprived as he had been after that trip, had wanted to get back to work immediately to see you...

He felt stupid.

“Are you okay?” Satoru heard you ask hesitantly.

He took his eyes off his reflection to briefly look at you. “What are you doing here?” he asked, moving to wash his hands for the third time.

You watched him hold his hands underneath the water stream, not really moving them.

So he still does that.

When he was younger, Satoru sometimes did that as a ritual to calm himself when he felt anxious. You could not remember the last time he had done it in front of you.

“You did not come back to the table, and Shoko said you looked pale when you left.”

And I’m afraid I know why.

“If you want me to call her to check in on you, I’m sure I can convince her to come into the men’s restrooms.”

Satoru knew those words were only meant to try and walk around the elephant in the room, or should he say the elephant that was sitting back at the table?

He grabbed a paper towel. “I’m fine. You should go back.”

You were standing from a distance but still saw his jaw tighten. “Aren’t you coming back?”

“What for?” he asked, throwing the used paper sheet into the bin.

“They already served the dessert, and…”

“What am I doing here, [name]?” Satoru’s eyes connected with yours.

What do you mean? You asked to come.

That is what you were going to tell him, but he did not let you.

“Is it true?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing, the ghost of an expression he almost never showed to you. “That night you went drinking with him, where did you sleep?”

Now that was a tricky question.

“At his place, but…”

Satoru’s face contorted into a broken smile and the forced laugh that escaped his mouth echoed through the empty stalls. “Of course.”

“Let me expla-”

“And? Was the breakfast worth it?” His venomous tone was not something you were used to.

You frowned. Was he really implying that? Did he really think that was the kind of person you were?

“I get that what he said sounded weird, but that’s… I can’t believe you’re asking that.”

“I can’t believe you’re not answering,” he replied dryly.

You took a step closer. “Satoru, what do you think happened between him and me?”

“I have no fucking idea.” The sternness of his words made you take that step back. “Because you did not even mention going out with him while I was gone, let alone that you spent the night at his place. Oh, but I’m sure that whatever happened he does not regret it at all, because that’s what he told you, isn’t it?”

What was he talking about now?

“What do you mean? Why would you say…?”

“Is that my phone?”

“It was ringing.”

The realization left you stunned. “You read our conversation?”

You were not expecting that. Knowing that Satoru was nosy at times was one thing. That he had actually violated your privacy and read a conversation from your phone without telling you was another one.

“Can you believe I almost felt bad for him? But why should I? He has you to comfort him in his oh-so-many hardships. What a lucky bastard...”

“Gojo, stop right there.”

He wanted to. Satoru really wanted to stop talking now before saying anything that would hurt you both, but he did not think he could. He had held it in for too long.

“No, don't Gojo-me. You did not tell me to stop before.” His eyes were burning blue.

The blue part of a flame is the hottest spot.

You could not remember who had told you that, but for the first time, it made sense, because it felt like Satoru was burning you under his gaze.

“No, scratch that... You told me to stop once, and I was foolish enough to think you needed time, that I was rushing you, but that was not it, was it? You had already made up your mind. You just did not have the guts to tell me.”

This was a side of Satoru that you were not sure of how to handle; your arguments were never like this; they could be ugly, yes, but it was never him yelling and reproaching while looking this agitated. He usually kept his emotions in check; you just lacked the experience seeing him like this.

What was that thing Suguru said once? That those who felt deeply will love you and hate you the same? That their love and their wrath was equally dangerous, or something like that?

Satoru’s agitated breath was all you could hear for a second, but then, as if regaining strength, he continued. “Tell me, did you ever think of him when you kissed me?”

Even before he finished the question, you had started shaking your head. "Of course not! Satoru, just let me explain. It’s not what you think, and I’ve never…”

“Now you are talking!” He advanced quickly towards you. “Yes, please, [name], please do explain what’s going on.” He was not exactly yelling, but he had raised his voice again, more than in any other argument you could recall, but it suddenly dropped. “What’s this? You play house with me Monday through Friday and fuck him on the weekends?”

“We are not playing house,” You were trying to avoid shouting, but it still came out sharper than you had intended.

“But you are fucking him.”

“I’m not!” That was it, you could not avoid shouting at him anymore. “Stop, just shut up. You know it’s not like that. He’s my friend, and you…”

“Then answer me, what are we playing at? Because I’m also your friend, right?! But looks like that’s all I’ll ever be, the friend that has to sit back and watch the person he loves fall in love with someone else. What a freaking great game, but guess what? I don’t want to play anymore.”

He had it all wrong and that irked you that he did not want to listen, but at the same time, it was breaking your heart to hear him. Was that how he had felt all this time?

You tried to touch his face to wipe away the tear that was about to fall down, but he pulled back. “Don’t… Don’t touch me. Just pick. It's him or me.”

What?

One look at your expression, and Satoru understood why he had put off asking you for a definitive response for so long. Maybe, deep down, he knew you could not pick him; he was flawed, he was selfish, he was always too late.

When you were younger, you had not been able to pick his friendship over Ikeda’s. This was just the same, was it not?

No, this hurts much worse.

“Satoru, I…” you started saying, but he shook his head and interrupted you…

“You seriously can’t, can you? You know… You were right, I’m selfish” he pointed to the door, “I’m nothing like Mr. Perfection out there, with the magazine face, corporate job, and just mundane problems..."

At some point, Satoru had given in and tried to get some intel on who the great Haruki, who had had you head over heels, was, but what he had found was just an average man that was perfect in everyone's eyes. In a way, that was worse than finding dirt on him.

"He may be a fucking saint, and I’m selfish all you want, but you…” the finger that had been pointing outside was now pointing at you “You are cruel beyond repair, and I’m an idiot for falling in love with you.”

He had lowered his voice, but the atmosphere could be cut with a knife, and his words certainly sliced it through.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” a young man, a waiter called behind you. “I’m afraid your… Umm… conversation is preventing some customers from coming in. May I ask that you continue this somewhere else?”

----------------------

Note: No notes today, just my love.

Thanks for reading!

Next: Part XXV

@mavs-stuff @witchbybirth @crookedlyaddictedone-blog @tqd4455 @maybe-a-bi-witch @mo0nforme @maliakealoha @zacatecanaaaa @blushhpeachh @astriarose @missesgojosatoru @ba-ks @sukunasleftkneecap @songbirdlully @cole-silas @heijihattorisgf @chokesonspit @hersheyzzz @smolbeanzzz @luciledreamz @avidreadee123 @moonmalice @ratscandaler @sadmonke @allie-jay @username23345 @spin-garden @ashehateaccount @kayzens @blehtotheblehtothebleh @stellasloth @bloopsstuff @cheesemachine44 @tetsuski @rosellerinfrost @catowru @bi-narystars @wondermilka @fortunatelyfurrygiver @shrxui

[ifimdreaming]

its all my fault

quinn hughes x reader || angst

authors note: sorta rewrote this but i still dont love it. mild cw: alcohol, fighting, toxic relationship protrayed

word count: 1.6k

-

“why do you act like ive never told you this bothers me? Every single time you go out, you stay all night and get drunk, and then come home at 4am and act oblivious as to how I could possibly be upset at you.” you say knowing that talking to him in this state is like arguing with a brick wall.

Without answering you, Quinn stumbles around the apartment discarding clothes from his body on his way towards the bathroom, and you watch as they fall carelessly to the floor.

It wasnt like this was an everyday occurrence, but it was happening more and more often and you knew it was getting worse. In the beginning of your relationship the two of you used to go out together. Always together. 

And it wasnt that you didnt like going out anymore, it was just that you didnt like the way he acted when you went out with him. So you stopped going. It was the same everytime. Always getting drunk whether you were drinking or not and never caring about spending any time with you at all. It was always about making himself feel good. Or maybe just to feel nothing. 

To be honest you didnt know why he was drinking to the point of complete and utter insensibility, and it hurt you the first time you brought it up to him. It was over dinner and he insisted you both finish a second bottle of wine. Again. On a thursday night;

-

“Why dont we just save it for the weekend? I dont mind having a glass or two over dinner, but it seems unnecessary to be drinking so much on a weekday, no?” you say cautiously.

Your boyfriend is sitting across from you with a hazy look in his eyes. you watch him fiddle with the bottle of wine as he places it on his lap momentarily. His left hand is around the throat of the bottle as he begins anxiously picking at the cork with his right hand. 

“Are you insinuating something?” Quinn says without making eye contact. 

His eyes stay peering down at the bottle in his lap as he speaks, then at your both empty glasses that are sat across from each other at the table and you can feel the heat in your cheeks intensifying. 

“Im just trying to look out for you..its not that i d-” you start but are quickly cut off by your half-drunk boyfriend.

“Then whyd you bring it up? What does the day of the week have to do with it?” He says with a mocking tone.

Quinn didnt raise his voice. He never would. But honestly what he said caught you off guard. It wasnt that you were scared of him, you were just worried about what he was doing to himself, his career, his relationship with you, his future - so many things were running through your head. 

You knew it was all getting worse too, and it was hard for you to admit it to yourself because you knew he was refusing to admit it himself. His absolute defensiveness is what you knew would be the hardest wall to tear down.

“Forget it. Lets just finish dinner, ok?” you say picking up your fork and trying to just forget the whole conversation. You hoped he would just forget about the alcohol altogether but deep down you knew it would be brought up again.

-

Following after him seemed like the most daunting task in the world right now. It was like living with a teenager at this point. And you knew it wasnt your job to take care of him. You wouldnt put up with that. 

But its been weeks, and here you are. Putting up with it.

“Quinn, we need to talk about this. Can you come out here?” you say as you begin down the hall to find him.

Although you say this calmly, as you walk further down the hallway you can hear him vomiting on the other side of the bathroom door and your anger suddenly intensifies. It makes you cringe hearing the sounds of his booze emptying into the toilet. Mostly because of how much it frustrated you how often this occurred.

Regardless of the state he was in when he walked in the front door, you knew once he was done throwing up his guts, he would be sober enough to talk to you at least 70% sensibly.

Waiting was the worst part. Recalling all of the other nights he came home in this state. Fearing he’ll completely ignore your attempts to talk this through. Worrying this might end up the night he finally lands himself in the hospital. 

After hearing silence for more than a minute you softly knock on the bathroom door.

“Just give me a fucking minute… Please?” Quinn says with a growl in his voice that he softly lets up as he speaks, knowing he shouldnt be talking to you that way.

You want to walk away so badly, but manage to stand your ground. 

“Im waiting right here.” you say proudly, but also, defeatedly.

Honestly you didn't understand how you had so much patience this late at night.

Finally Quinn opens the door. He slowly walks out towards you and looks terrified to face you. You didnt want your relationship to be this way. The overarching feeling of dread lingering over the both of you.

“Can you just try and understand where im coming from?” You begin to say,

“Just put yourself in my perspective.” You add quietly.

His eyes were clearly tired and you could see them gently squinting as he stares at your lips. Trying desperately to comprehend every word coming out of your mouth.

Maybe he wasnt getting it. Maybe he genuinely didnt understand how big of a toll his drinking has taken on your relationship - On your lives.

“Its not that easy.” He says in a whisper, matching his tone with yours.

“Ok?... Its not easy? I know its not that easy.” you try to hold back the disgust in your voice as you say this, but fail.

You close your eyes and air lets out from your nose in disapproval. You cant help it. Under communicating was what Quinn did best. He knew exactly how to piss you off and it was working right off the bat. 

“Are you going to let me explain or are you just gonna keep up the disappointed girlfriend act?” Quinn says as he looks at you through the doorway of the bathroom, leaning his shoulder on the wall.

He watches you as you uncross your arms, trying to appear open to whatever he is going to say next. But he stays silent which infuriates you even more.

“Go ahead Quinn! Its about goddamn time you explain yourself!” you knew yelling is not the right approach but just couldnt contain your frustration any longer.

Quinn takes a step towards you and you can tell he is desperately holding himself back from just giving up on this conversation altogether. 

He runs his hands through his hair, holding himself back from his anger and looks utterly defeated. And suddenly it is really hard to be angry at him. You can tell he has no idea how to express himself to you in this moment.

You were scared if you got any closer to him you would just hold him and never let go.

“I dont know whats wrong with me… I dont want to make excuses to you because i know you can see right through my bullshit.” Quinn begins and his voice wavers, “But i dont know whats wrong.” He repeats.

His eyes are bloodshot and glossy as he peers into yours. 

“Its unforgivable. How ive treated you? Its horrible.  makes me feel like shit to think about that.” He says.

His apology of sorts made you sad. You felt sorry for him, but mostly you wondered how much of this he'll remember in the morning.

You fight back tears as you continue looking at him without a word. You were afraid if you spoke it would open up the flood gates of your tears and you didnt want that.

Quinn scans your face looking for any clue whatsoever as to what you could be thinking before he brings his gaze back to your eyes. You couldn't stand the prolonged eye contact any longer so you look down at his fingers and watch as he begins to pick at his cuticles, his anxiety clearly getting the better of him. 

His hands are red and calloused and the only thing you can focus on. Suddenly the urge to hold them takes over.

You walk towards him and grab his hands in yours. Quinn immediately accepts your touch. He steps even closer towards your body and rests his chin at the top of your head, your forehead resting lightly on his chest. And for some reason the simplicity of his embraces finally brings you to tears.

You sob into his chest and he grips the back of your neck tightly, your hair wrapping messily in his hand. His other hand wraps around your body, pulling you into a tight hug. The sounds of your sobbing fills the room and almost begins to embarrass you with how loud it is.

Your arms grasped Quinn so strongly it almost hurt you to hold him that tightly. Everything hurt. Your throat burned as you continued crying, your eyes stung from your mascara bleeding into them, your body was physically and mentally exhausted from staying up all night worrying about Quinn. 

He was all you could think about and you really wouldn't be surprised if he was beginning to lose oxygen from your grip on him in this moment.

“Its all my fault. Everything.” Quinn chokes out and its then that you realize he is crying too.

He strokes your head gently and you let him console you.

But honestly you didn't know if allowing him to console you after being the reason for your pain was toxic or romantic.  

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