#Coach patchwork bags

[yutarot]

IN PERFECT SYNC [j.jh smau]

betrayal [noun]  /bɪˈtreɪ.əl/

1 : the act of dissapointing a persons trust, hopes or expectations.

2 : revelation of something hidden or secret.

3 : failure to keep or honour a promise, principle or cherished memory, etc.

twelve — betrayal. wc: 1k

café neoro. 4:14pm

if you were to say you weren’t confused by the sudden cafe invitation, you’d be lying.

as you enter the front door, triggering the cafe’s bell to ring, you spot giselle sat in the far corner, biting her nails; a habit she does only when she’s dreading something.

that’s weird.

she spots you, dropping her hands to the table and nodding you over to come and sit with her.

“you’re here!” she squeals, “you’re here..”

the atmosphere is strange, you must admit and there’s something odd lining the air between you. so you begin to drone on about your class in efforts to ease off the weirdness.

“urg, im so sick of my professor just constantly leaving the hall. im literally paying to be here and he can’t even be bothered to stay!” you whine as you set your bag down beside you, sitting opposite giselle on the cafes patchwork coach.

it’s a cute little place, you and the girls come here often to catch up when you don’t see eachother for periods of time in exam season.

but for giselle to ask you here alone? when neither of you have exams for months?

there was something going on.

“honestly, i wish my professor would leave sometimes.” she replies. “she’s so boring!”

you laugh, spending the next 20 minutes complaining about your courses and gossiping about overheard conversations.

that’s until you decide to bring up giselle’s absence from the party the other night.

“where did you even go?!” you ask, too excited for your own good. but you know giselle.

and you know she’s forcing her smile.

“oh, just some room upstairs, no idea who’s. could have been chenles for all i know.” she laughed.

you take a sip of your coffee as you laugh in reply, winking at her jokingly. “so, who was the guy? was he good at yk… that stuff..”

she giggles as she nods. but her smile withers.

“look, yn.”

the sudden change of atmosphere brings you right back to the feeling of the beginning of your meet-up, the cold, stark vibe of something being wrong, of something eating away at whatever is between you.

“i told myself that i should be honest with you, so i will.” she continues.

“what is it, giselle? you’re scaring me.”

she’s silent for a moment.

the silence kills.

but you soon find out that it isn’t the silence that is killing you, its the thought that in these mere seconds, giselle is counting down the moments until she tells you who it is.

until she knowingly breaks your heart.

“it was jaehyun. the guy i slept with was jaehyun.”

your mind feels heavy, unattached even.

how could she do this? after everything you went through. she was the one who was there the entire time, she was the one who comforted you, telling you how he was in the wrong and how he deserved the worst kind of punishment for what he did.

and yet, in the end, she must have never truly believed it. because now she has betrayed your trust.

and she has betrayed you.

“what?” you can feel your vision going foggy, tears welling up in your eyes.

“i know, i know. i shouldn’t have, but can you really blame me?”

“yes!” you raise your voice, and your thankful that the cafe is near empty. “giselle…”

there’s a pause of silence as she lets you figure out what you want to say.

but you continue. “you know what he did to me. you hugged me as i cried when i found out. i had no friends because of him, none! all the girls in highschool hated me giselle, do you know how that feels?”

you’re crying at this point, but she listens, watches as you burst into tears.

“do you know how it feels to find out your bestfriend had been shit-talking you to all the girls just so he could get in their pants?! he had used me as a pickup line giselle, he had embarrassed me, telling girls he thought i was ugly, annoying, that he only tolerated me to make himself look better, all so that they wouldn’t get jealous! do you know how that feels?”

“…no.”

“so why would you do that?” you quieten down, almost to a whisper as you struggle to get your words out. “you know how much he hurt me, about how i can never be friends with half the girls in this college because to this day they still laugh and point. and yet, you don’t care about any of that.”

“it was one night, yn.”

“and yet you still felt that that one night was important than my feelings. how do u think im going to look when people find out my best friend has slept with him? i already look stupid enough!”

“yn, noone will know, i promise.” she replies.

“i know. that’s enough.” you stand up, leaving giselle sat there as you make your way to the door as you let the tears fall.

you feel 18 again, you feel the eyes, the giggles as you would when u walked down the hallway with jaehyun, unaware of what he had been doing behind your back.

jaehyun was probably so smug right now, knowing he had not only used you in highschool, but in college too, and with your own bestfriend on top of all that.

so now, you hate him even more that you ever did before.

you’ll never understand him, you’ll never know why he did what he did.

but there’s one thing you’ll know you will always do:

you will always hate him.

mlist — next

notes; so!.. i guess the truth is out now….. hope u guys don’t hate me too much! 😄😄 (btw there won’t be a chapter tmr bc im busy all day and don’t have the next chapter written, the next update will be sunday! sorry😞)

taglist — open; @https-yeonjun @chenlesfavorite @therealbobbyshloby @f6llsun @jkslvsnella @nanaxwi @cloudmrk @neocrashed @vernonburger @vividwritess @taeeflwrr @mmjhh1998 @cyjzzl @stareaa @minkyuncutie @mrkleelvr @dudekiss3r @nattan127 @slayhaechan @jaeveil @tynlvr @mslora @nosungluv @grassbutneo @dokyriu @girlz4jaem @axo-l0tl @yyangj3lly @solvrse @m1ng1swife @gentlepeach @xiuriii @soobinbunnie5 @tocupid @apolloxxivmin @ctrlstar @gyuguys @tokitosun @i-kai @flamingi @mrkleelvr @en-dream @queenrachelpink @ssweetreveries @swanyvess @flaminghotyourmom @hyuck-me @cryingforjae @hizhu @starfilledgaze

[tinydeskwriter]

Lando NorrisxWolff!reader

words: 2825

requested: no

A/n: This is going to be a multi-chapters, most of the chapters won't be social midia or something. It is going to 'follow' the 2023 F1 season. Reader is Toto's eldest child by a fictitious ex- first wife. I just watched Break Point, with is another sport Netflix docuseries from the same producing company that makes DST, and since then I have this idea of a prodigy tennis player reader.

next part»

GQ 10 things Y/n Wolff can’t live without

“Hi GQ, I am Y/n Wolff and here are my essentials.” The young woman opens her arms looking at the objects displayed on the table, before looking up and smiling to the camera.

# Sugar

“My trainer may not agree. My coaches may not agree. My performance coach may not agree. My parents definitely don’t agree.” She points out, “But I need sugar.” The young woman brings to the centre of the table a small pile of sweets, a tall cup of caffeinated drink and a can of Red Bull, “I live of sugar and… sugary things…”

“My day starts with this lovely peppermint iced mocha sweetened with vanilla sugar… a ton of vanilla sugar.” Y/n laughs taking a sip of her drink “I am weirdly obsessed with mint and chocolate combinations…” She comments looking at the camera, “I drink perhaps two or three of those per day,” The young woman then places her hand over the top of the Red Bull can, most people who follow her already know that she is an athlete sponsored by Red Bull, “sugar-free Red Bull, which ironically is sweeter than the regular one.” She puts her hand on the pile of chocolates, “Milk-chocolate, I am not going to lie and say that I eat the healthy stuff, I don’t, I have the taste buds of a child,” the tennis player smiles mischievously at the camera, “right now I am really into this Finnish chocolate, Geisha and the blue Fazer, daddy always keep those in his offices for me.” She wrinkles her nose a little, giving the camera a lovely—childish—smile.

“Aero Mint bar, Chocolate Orange, Maltesers, Bounty, Kinder, truffles…I'm honestly starting to wonder how we managed to get through customs.” She laughs looking at her entourage behind the cameras. “This is like… a fraction of what I usually travel with, this is more like what I have in my bag for the day.”

#Photos

Y/n played a little with a golden square object in her hand.

“I travel a lot, I am on the road from January to November playing at tournaments around the world, so I can’t always be surrounded or in touch with the people that I love,” she says in a slightly more serious tone, taking the golden case in her hands and pressing the button to open, showing pile of polaroid photos, “those are mini Polaroids, so I can bring them with me wherever I go, I keep them inside this vintage cigarette case that belonged to my maternal grandmother, she was a absolute rockstar and I miss her very much.”  The camera takes a close-up on the golden case with rope motif and small colourful stones. “As I don’t smoke, I had to find another use for it.”

The first photo she shows is five adults together, smiling around a table, in what appears to be a ski resort.

“I have a very patchwork family, and somehow the adults in my life made it work…which I am very grateful for, not everyone is lucky to have so many amazing parents…so here I have my mum and my two other mothers, Stephanie and Susie, papa and my other father, Phillippe,” the second photo is her with a boy not much younger than her, two teenage girls and a small child in front of a Christmas tree, “my siblings, I have four, I am the eldest whatever way you go, huge flex,” the photo is followed by one of a pyjama party with several girls in matching pyjamas, and another of the tennis player with a blonde in front of the Eiffel Tower, “My gurls! This is my best friend, she is also my PA… so amazing to have someone I trust so much with me all the time…” a golden cocker spaniel with a crystal necklace, silk bows in its ears and a Gucci sweater appears on the screen, “this is Éclair Wolff, my emotional support dog aka my child, she actually goes with me mostly everywhere, but sometimes I leave her with my mum so she won’t be stressed by the long flights.”

She points to the next three photos, the first has the Mercedes drivers in Tommy Hilfinger, posing for the photo. “Lew and Georgie, the adopted older brothers I never asked for, but I love them.” The second photo has three other familiar faces making faces at the camera, “C2, my Ferrari boys, feat Pear, there is something wholesome about good looking men looking so silly, I love those guys and I love this picture, it is very on brand with them.”  The tennis player smiles at the camera. “Sharls, Carlitos and Pear are three of the nicest guys I have ever met, it is truly a blessing be able to call them friends and having them in my life.”

McLaren driver Lando Norris, in his third or fourth season, apparently not even realizing he was having his photo taken, it's a spontaneous photo, the soft sunlight highlighting the driver's profile as he smiles.

“Because of karting, I’ve known Lando since I was a head taller than him, he was my first crush…he was so shy, so adorable, so babygirl coded.” Y/n blushed a little as she shows the photo.

“I think most of the current grid is in here…oh, look, it’s Lance! Friends from life, from tennis…” She quickly changes showing another photo. “I think I easily have about sixty photos here..."

#Camera

“I don’t have a specific camera I like more than the others, but as a rule, I prefer vintage cameras just for the beauty of the final result, I inherited a few, I bought a few, I usually develop the photos when I'm at home for longer periods of time, edit the videos, digitalize a few…” She points to the cameras in front of her, a Bolex, a Digital Bolex, a very iconic Rolleiflex and a Super 8, “It is a very nostalgic experience to just go through a year worth of memories…” She says resting her face in her hand, “I have a hundred boxes with pictures and film rolls.”

“I love going through old pictures with my mom and Cass, my younger sister, from when we were babies, my parents in the 90’s, my mom when she was young, the wonderful life my grandparents lived, and is such a lovely moment to share with my mom.” Y/n has a soft smile on her lips. “One day, when I have my own kids, I want to have those moments with them, and not just scrolling through a phone or an iPad.”

#Journals

“I keep journals since I was a child, I get a new one every year,” She holds up the leather hardcover notebook, a deep indigo blue, a little worn around the edges, “after I turned thirteen years old, I started to get it in this specific shade of blue, with my initials in gold,” The girl opens the journal, leafing through it briefly, “I am never going to write an auto-biography, it’s kind of a little bit too egocentric to my taste,” She knocks it closed, but keeps it up, looking at the camera as she speaks , “but if someone ever write about me, fifty years from now… the facts will be straight, at least from my point of view… but even if no one ever writes about me… when I am old and grey and memory starts to fail me, I will be able to come back to the thoughts of twenty years old me…”

There is a moment of silence.

“That was kind of dark.” Y/n laughs to break the tension.

#Art Supplies

“I love to draw and paint, it eases the anxieties of life,” The tennis player shows the large sketchbook, a small aluminium case with the watercolours, and the rolling leather case with pencils and brushes, “I always bring a watercolour travel kit with my sketchbook wherever I go.”

She displays for the internet some of the landscapes she painted during her travels around the world.

#Hoodies

“I like to be comfortable after a match,” she spreads her arms across the perfectly folded hoodies on the table, “and nothing is more comfortable than a hoodie, feels a little bit like home.”

“I have my collection of hoodies with Adidas, they always provide me with new cool colours to try out and see if I want to add to the next collection,” Y/n opens sage green hoodie, running her hand over her initials and the Adidas logo. “Enchanté by Dani Ric, I have a bunch of those, Daniel is always kind enough to drop them at my house in Monaco, VIP treatment baby.” She points to the white hoodie. “Quadrant hoodies, Lando’s merch, ridiculously comfy, I would really like them in pastel colours or dusty rose… just putting out to the universe…” Y/n smiles and winks at the camera. “Valtteri, MV1… those all came with me for the US Open.”

#Skincare

“This is part of my daily routine.” The girl opens the toiletry bag, taking out the products inside, “I am always in different countries and different hotel rooms, so is nice to have this little sense of routine.”

She lines the pearlescent bottles with opaque round lids on top of the table.

“I launched Muse when I was seventeen years old, it is my skincare brand, and it is very me. I wanted it to be un-complicated and complete,” The young woman explains passionately looking at the camera, “skin is the body’s largest organ, and it is not only your face.” It affects the hair on your face, tucking it behind your ear before going back to the product bottles. “The line goes from body wash to suncream to night-time routine.”  

#Travel Pillow

“If I mess up my neck and shoulder, I am f***ed, my match is over and possibly the tournament.” She holds up a medium-sized pillow to the camera, the pillowcase light pink silk with red buttonholes around the edges and her initials in the corner. “So, this baby goes with me everywhere, it is a memory foam pillow with a silk pillowcase. Best sleep, best hair.”

#Sport Gear

“I generalized here, sport gear, I travel heavy, always,” she points to the array of equipment on the table, “this is my racket, I go to each tournament with around ten of those, just in case I wreak one on the ground,” Y/n passes her hand over the racket, “those are custom Yonex Ezone 98, they made it in Mountbatten pink with some cool pattern and my initials,” she smiles as she pulls the helmet close to her chest, “my helmet, also custom Mountbatten pink, with my initials in rose, I love to try new karting tracks, most people don’t know I used to race karts when I was younger, won a couple of trophies, went as far as F3 before I choose to go pro with tennis, car racing is a huge thing in my family…my dad used to race, my stepmom was a driver, my little brother probably going to be a F1 driver,” she recounts with a smile, “I joked once with my dad that we are at a window that if I have a kid in the next year or two, in twenty years we can have a Wolff’s drivers line-up for Mercedes.” The young woman smirks to the camera. “My dad almost passed out, and now I am not allowed to date until I am thirty.”

#Headphones

“Those are custom made for me, again, they are Mountbatten pink and rose with my logo, super comfortable on the ears, I usually have problems with headphones due to the piercings and earrings, but these didn't give me any problems, they fit well, and I can spend the whole day wearing them." She takes the gadget out of the case, showing the details. “It's not wireless, because I always forget to charge it, so it has a wire, they made this lovely, thick cord that is durable and super resistant,” Y/n wraps the rope around her fingers, “it is noise cancelling and it is always with me before every match as an essential part of my pre-match rituals.”

“The right music kind of puts you in the right mood, I usually go with Eminem in 80% of my matches, I feel like it unleashes my inner fighter, these are matches where I'm not really worried about my opponent, it is just raw and a little bit thoughtless, I just play,” she comments, “when I know that my opponent is going to be hard on the mind games, which is not an uncommon move in tennis, I tend to listen to calmer and more melancholic music, piano, it keeps me in a more peaceful zone, I don’t get pumped up and full of adrenaline, my game tends to be far more calculated…”

 #

“That’s it. Those were my ten essentials,” the young woman smiles, “thank you, GQ, for allowing me to share my essentials, much appreciated, and thank you guys for taking the time to watch it! Much love and see you next time!” The athlete says, blowing a kiss and winking to the camera as the credits shows up.

__________________________________________

2,109,963 views   Aug 29, 2022

978 Comments

 userone

i was todays yrs old when i found out that tennis superstar Y/n Wolff is the eldest child of THE Toto Wolff

            user1

            From what little she talks about her dad here, u just get the vibes that Merce boss Toto is a softie girl dad, he keeps her favourite candy in his offices and forbids her to date until she’s thirty, this is so sweet

haterone

a billionaire’s nepo baby, talking about her millionaire friends and her unrelatable lifestyle and things

usertwo

Y/n’s hair is probably the healthiest hair i ever seen i need her hair routine

userthree

I am so obsessed with her career! I want to see her continue to succeed and be one of the biggest tennis players of all times. She deserves it. Such a talented, humble kid.

userfour

i loved hearing her talk about her family and friends!!! it is so crazy that she is close friends with a bunch of F1 drivers.

            hatertwo

            Not so crazy since she’s literally a f1 nepo baby, her daddy is part owner of Mercedes.

userfive

She's like that one super popular chick in school who's actually a total sweetheart.

usersix

I totally relate to her being a sweet tooth

@userseven

I love that she was not talking to the camera. She was actually talking to the people there behind the scenes

usereight

i love how a lot of these items are usually a stereotype of being pretentious—a vintage cartier cigarette case, a film camera, a leather bound custom hermes journal, art supplies--but she talks about all of them with such genuine interest and attachment that it doesnt seem pretentious at all

usereighteen

U r the one name dropping the brands she uses…

usernine

Her nicknames for Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz Jr and Pierre Gasly… I died dead…

            user9

            The fact that she’s gushing about lando and being so sweet about her childhood crush on him oml

            user10

            Omg it is so cuuute!!! Like, she had a crush on little Lando and not McLaren glow up Lando Norris

            user11

            I used to be so conflicted shipping her with the drivers, because she dates that tennis player, but her insta has a bunch of her and Charles and her and Pierre and her and Lance and it is so cute and kind of gives such soft vibes, those boys look half in love with her in most pictures, also ...the chemistry. but seeing the way she talks about Lando… they r my new diehard ship…

userten  

Are we going to ignore that she confessed that Lando Norizz was her first crush???

            user1

            They would be so cute together… and they ate both single now… at the same time… we can dream…

            user12

            i went ten steps further and in my head, they are already getting married and having cute future Mercedes world drivers’ champions…

user13

 Can we already dream of Lando at Mercedes???

usereleven

Ok… but didn’t Lando once commented like, very briefly, in a McLaren video, that he used to have a crush on a girl that used to go karting with him??? The girl who wore red ribbons in her hair… do you guys know who uses red ribbons in heir hair since she was an actual baby?? Y/n! There is a pic in her insta of her in a karting track with her dad, and she has red bows in her hair…

            user11

            Not gonna lie… It would be kinda of cute if they actually had a mutual childhood crush and then eventually end up together as adults…

next part»

[hyunnielix]

how many things. | h.h

Series Masterlist

'Remember when you left once That never made too much sense to me'

— hyunjin x (f) reader

— word count: 2.7k (unedited)

— genre: non-idol au, artist!hyunjin, second chance romance (I know who would've thought. eventual smut (not in this chapter sorry). dance coach!reader

— warning's: fluff, angst, kissing! Hyunjin being insane. very emotionally charged

→ playlist on spotify

Outside, gray light filters through the blinds, casting muted shadows across the space. Your room, inhabited by a quiet stillness. The knot in your chest hadn't loosened since last night.

Clothes were draped over the back of a chair and spilling out of an open dresser drawer, abandoned in your haste to change out of last night’s soaked dress. The hot chocolate mug Felix made for you sat half-empty on the bedside table. Your bed was unmade, the sheets tangled from tossing and turning, while a fluffy blanket lay half on the bed and half on the floor. Felix's mattress looked like a patchwork of borrowed blankets and mismatched pillows, wedged awkwardly between your desk and the bed. His backpack was propped up nearby, like he was ready to stay for as long as you needed him.

You blinked against the grogginess, rolling over to grab your phone from the nightstand. The screen lit up, and there they were—Hyunjin's texts. A long string of apologies and explanations, each word pulling at the threads of your resolve. It stirred something within you—frustration, maybe guilt, even the faintest pang of longing. But it’s all tangled with the memory of last night’s discomfort, the way your stomach dropped when you unveiled that painting. You glanced down at Felix, still asleep on the mattress on the floor, his soft snores echoing through the room.

You scroll slowly through the messages:

Hyune: I kept replaying everything in my head last night. I need to say sorry again… for the painting, for everything. I never meant to hurt you.

You frowned, the corner of your lip tugging downward as your thumb hovered over the screen, scrolling through the long paragraphs.

Hyune: I really messed up. I didn’t think about how it could've made you feel. It was selfish of me. I don’t expect you to be okay. I just want you to know how sorry I am.

There was an hour-long pause between his latest texts, a noticeable gap and the timestamp stared back at you, emphasizing the hesitation.

Hyune: Can I just ask you something? Is there any way I can fix this. Or have I ruined it for good?

The silence between his words felt heavier than the texts themselves, and you wondered what he’d been thinking in that hour. You tried to decide how to respond, or if you even should.

Deciding against it, you clambered out of bed, the cold floor beneath your feet grounding you as you carefully tiptoed over Felix’s makeshift mattress, mindful not to disturb his sleep. You moved around him as gently as possible and made your way to the corner where your gym bag sat.

You grabbed your gear, pulling out a pair of leggings and a loose tank top, the soft fabric a welcome change from your pajamas. You stripped out of them. After slipping into your workout clothes, you grabbed your sneakers and tied them. You gave yourself a moment to breathe before heading out.

Finally reaching the door, you slipped out of the room and into the quiet hallway. To no one’s surprise, Minho was already up, sitting at the dining table with his signature mug of coffee in hand. His sharp gaze flicked to you as he took a slow sip. "Feeling any better?"

You shrugged, but immediately regretted the motion, a sharp pain shooting up your back. You cringed, wincing as the discomfort intensified. Instinctively, you rubbed your hand against the affected area, trying to ease the ache. Some days it was more bearable, others, like today, felt like every movement made it worse. You pressed your palm harder against the sore spot, hoping the pressure would bring some relief. Time for painkillers.

"Is it your back again?" Minho asked, his voice casual.

You nodded, unable to hide the discomfort that was clear on your face. "Yeah."

He didn’t immediately respond, his eyes drifting to his watch. Minho’s expression remained unreadable, but the way his fingers grazed the edge of his watch seemed to convey that he was weighing his options—whether to ask more, or just let you be.

"You heading off to some classes?" he asked, his tone shifting into something more neutral. You noticed the flicker of concern in his gaze, though it was subtle enough that you might have missed it if you weren’t paying attention.

"I was supposed to be teaching back to back classes but too many of the students called in sick. So looks like it'll only be one today. I'm lucky I woke up before my alarm." You shuffled toward the kitchen, your mind racing as you tried to remember where you’d last put your prescription. Reaching up to the top shelf, your fingers brushed along the unfamiliar bottles, until, "Hah! gotcha."

You finally found your prescription, tucked away in the back of the cabinet. Without hesitation, you grabbed two of the pills. You didn’t bother with water and swallowed them dry. Not the ideal way to take them, but it was the quickest and right now, you didn't have the patience for anything else.

"Don't overwork yourself."

"Yeah, Minho I get it. I'll be fine."

Minho didn't let up, his gaze locking with yours as he leaned back slightly, placing his coffee cup down. "I know what you're like. You’ll throw yourself into your work until it consumes you. But you can't afford to do that this time." His words hit harder than expected, not because of their harshness, but because they were true. Minho knew you too well.

"I won't. I just need to clear my head and this is the perfect excuse." You avoided looking at the artwork in the hall. It sat there on the wall. You hesitated for a moment, then finally glanced at it. "Can you take down that painting?" you asked, your voice quiet but firm, almost as if you were asking him to erase a memory that still lingered.

Minho didn’t miss a beat, his eyes brightening with a glimmer of hope. "I can do that."

You nodded quickly, feeling a strange mix of relief and guilt. "And when Felix wakes up, can you tell him thank you for staying over? Okay, bye!"

Minho opened his mouth to say something but you were already walking toward the door, the sound of your shoes clicking against the floor as you made your way out. Without looking back, you shut the door behind you with a soft click, the weight of it momentarily lifting as you stepped into the apartment hall.

The dance studio was alive with the sound of music and the shuffle of feet. The class worked through the routine, slow but with precision. Just how you liked it.

The spacious room had mirrors lining one wall, reflecting the movements of the students. The floor, once smooth was now well-worn from countless hours of practice. The choreography had been coming together, but there were still a few kinks to work out—people stumbling through transitions, steps slightly off-beat, or missteps that threw the flow off. You could feel the tension building in the room as everyone tried to perfect their movements.

One of the students, Jaehyun, lingered at the back of the group, his steps faltering with a heaviness which didn’t go unnoticed. Your gaze shifted to him, drawn by the subtle struggle in his movements.

"Jaehyun, more sass!" you called out, watching as he hesitated for a moment. You stepped forward, adjusting your stance, demonstrating the movement with a sharp flick of your wrist. "Yeah, there you go!" you encouraged, nodding as he began to mirror you. You flicked your hand away from your body, exaggerating the motion to show him how the energy should move—quick, confident, and full of attitude. "Flick it away from you," you said with a grin, your own body flowing with the rhythm.

Your back ached in response to the constant motion, the familiar tightness creeping in as you push through the routine. With every pivot, the pain gnawed at the edge of your concentration, but you tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the music and the rhythm. As you demonstrated each step, you could feel the weight of the room’s gaze, every student focused on perfecting the choreography you were teaching. The pressure to keep everything fluid and precise only made the ache in your back worse.

A figure in the background caught your eye, leaning casually against the wall. He was dressed in a loose tank top and baggy pants, his posture relaxed but somehow out of place in the midst of the class. But what really drew your attention was the ridiculous hat perched on his head covering the top half of his face.

Hyunjin lifted his head up, meeting your gaze with an almost amused expression.

Your voice cut through the quiet murmur of the classroom like a whip, drawing every pair of eyes toward the back. "What are you doing here?"

Everyone halted and the sudden shift in the atmosphere made you realize how unprofessional you were being. You quickly gathered yourself and cleared your throat.

"Let's all wrap it up and take a break," you addressed the class, trying to regain control of the situation.

You strode toward him, your movements quick and deliberate, and gripped his wrist firmly. Your eyes flicked toward the storage room and you felt a sharp sense of urgency. Whatever this was, it needed to be dealt with away from the class. Half of the students watched with curious eyes. You swore under your breath and turned, leading him to the room.

You wrenched it open and tugged him into the small space, barely big enough to fit both of you. The air smelt like cleaning supplies and a faint scent of sweat from earlier classes. You awkwardly manoeuvred, the shelves filled with equipment pressing against you on either side. Reaching for his stupid hat, you snatched it off his head, placing it on a shelf.

You glanced up at him, irritation simmering beneath the surface. "What, you're stalking me now?" The words were sharp, cutting through the tension that filled the tiny room.

Hyunjin leaned against the shelf with a grin, clearly amused by the situation. He tilted his head slightly, his usual playful demeanor shifting the focus of the moment. "We met in a very similar fashion to this, didn’t we?"

He moved with an almost casual grace, his fingers trailing along the dusty shelves. His words caught you off guard, distracting you from your blinding anger. "Caught in a closet by our dance teacher?" Hyunjin continued, his lazy smirk growing. He seemed to enjoy the absurdity of the situation.

For a second, the tension between you both eased and the air in the small, cluttered room felt less suffocating. You let out a quiet sigh, your annoyance still simmering, but the familiar situation almost made you forget for a moment what had brought you here.

"This time with the dance teacher," you mumbled, your voice lower than you'd intended, barely a whisper in the space between you.

Hyunjin's response was a soft, knowing "Mhm," but it wasn’t the words that caught your attention. His eyes flickered to your lips for just a heartbeat, and it made something inside you tighten, though you couldn’t tell if it was annoyance or something else entirely.

You clenched your jaw, your fists balling and then straightened up, shaking off the moment. "This is a very good time to talk about boundaries," you said, your voice firm, though you couldn't help but notice how his body seemed to draw your gaze—his defined obliques subtly visible under the loose fabric of his shirt as he shifted slightly, the muscles shifting with the movement. You found yourself admiring them against your will and a rush of heat crept up your neck.

Stupid. Attractive. Infuriating Man.

Once, those ridges, those lines of muscle, had been yours to explore, your hands mapping every inch of his frame with reverent precision. You could almost feel the memory of his warmth, the way his skin had felt beneath your touch...

You snapped yourself out of it, blinking hard as you tried to focus, to remind yourself that this was not the time to be distracted. Boundaries. Keeping things professional. Right.

Before you could even react, Hyunjin surged forward, his movements too quick for you to anticipate. His delicate hands cupped the underside of your jaw, fingers warm and firm against your skin as he tilted your face up to meet his. The proximity sent a jolt of surprise through you, but you couldn’t pull away in time. His lips were on yours in an instant, demanding and urgent, and the sensation of him pushing you back against the shelves startled you.

"Ahh," you hissed, wincing as the pain from your back flared up, sharp and sudden.

Hyunjin pulled back just slightly, his eyes filled with a flicker of guilt. "Sorry, I forgot," he murmured, his voice softer now. His hand slid up your back with surprising tenderness, finding the sore spot, and he cupped the area with a gentleness that caught you off guard. You felt his warmth, the contrast of his hand against the ache in your muscles almost soothing. He brushed his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours.

Your head spun. His proximity, suffocating, but something about the moment made you hesitate. "Is sorry the only thing you know how to say now?"

His body pressed against yours again in response. There was no escape from the intensity of his gaze or the force of his presence. His actions were desperate as though he was trying to claim something lost.

Your heart raced, a mix of confusion and anger flooding through you. But despite the chaos in your mind, you melted into him, your resolve faltering. His hand slid around your torso, pulling you impossibly closer. His touch commanded your attention, pulling you deeper, until there was nothing but the heat of his body against yours and the searing press of his lips.

It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a battle—a desperate attempt to close the chasm of time and pain that had kept you apart. It was as if he was trying to erase the years of longing and regret through sheer closeness. But as quickly as you’d given in, you broke away, pushing him back with trembling hands.

"Hyune... we can’t do this. Not again. I can’t." Your voice cracked, betraying the storm of emotions brewing inside.

Hyunjin's eyes bore into yours, dark and unwavering. "Call off the class," he said, his voice low but commanding. He stood before you, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

"What?" you asked, barely processing his words.

"Call off the class. Now," he repeated, and something about the weight of his gaze made you comply without question.

You opened the door, poking your head out into the hallway where the students sat waiting. They turned to you, curiosity etched on their faces. "Class is dismissed today. I’ll make up for the lost time in the next session," you announced, your voice strained but steady.

You closed the door and turned back to him. "You can’t do this to me, Hyune. You can’t just come back after three years and expect everything to be the same."

His reply was simple, almost haunting. "You waited."

Your breath hitched, your mouth falling open. "I did," you admitted, the weight of those words settling heavily between you.

"You shouldn’t have waited," he said, his voice softer now, almost broken. "You should’ve been happy. You should’ve found someone."

The questions you’d buried deep for years tumbled out before you could stop it. "And what about you? Are you happy? Did you find someone else? Did you fall for someone? Did you treat her well?"

You saw it immediately—the way his entire body tensed, his shoulders stiffening as if bracing for a blow. His eyes flickered, the light in them dimming, and for a moment, he looked like he was struggling to breathe. His jaw tightened, the muscle feathering with the effort to hold back whatever turmoil your words unleashed.

"No," His response came, cutting through the air like a blade, "I can’t find you anywhere but here."

Then they came—the tears, streaming down your cheeks as his words wrapped around your heart.

[ashestoashes7]

hello hello more foul play content please!!!!

coming right up <33

WIP Game

- Foul Play -

Nathan Wesninski may be fluent in cruelty but the merits of subtlety are not foreign to him. He can be charming if he wants to. Unassuming, even, at least to those without a patchwork of his fury etched across their skin.

Wymack’s Foxes have a reputation. The bottomless bag of chances is as ridiculous as it is idealistic, and it is that which his father begins to chip away at.

A downcast gaze followed by mentions of his mother with a purposeful glance to the side in feigned grief, a concerned hand settling on Neil’s shoulder in a false show of support, and a softly spoken statement of how Neil hasn’t been quite right since she left. As a loving father, he just isn’t sure Nathaniel would find the Foxes a suitable environment.

Nathaniel wants to laugh or scream or whisper a thousand secrets into Wymack’s ear that will get them both killed, but he has not waited for an opportunity this long to squander it with such fervent stupidity.

Nathan can weave a perfect, distorted picture as long as he wants, but Nathaniel is eighteen now. And the contract offered to him is for a Fox, Wymack isn’t the type of coach to be won over by lack of parental approval, is known for the opposite in fact.

It is his choice and his only chance, one he intends to grasp with greedy, desperate fingers. A lifeline mistakenly thrown is a lifeline nonetheless.

<—Prev || Next—>

[yuri-quest]

Excited for magic school? Darn tootin'! You could hardly sit still the entire carriage ride from your modest village to the capital city. Forests and farmland flowed by outside the window, giving you glimpses of a world beyond your sleepy life as the daughter of a sufficiently successful dry goods merchant. Perhaps some of the fields you saw are the sources of goods on your parents' shelves. The thought makes the world feel larger and smaller at the same time.

Eventually you arrived at the coach depot in the capital nearest the academy. From there, clutching your luggage in the iron grip of an overawed hick, you located the staff member who'd been tasked with wrangling the new students. A softly-glowing magic sign hovered above them while their hands were busy juggling clipboards and lists. Apparently your coach was among the last to arrive, as you didn't have to wait long before your luggage was magicked onto a baggage cart that surely had enchantments of its own to be able to fit two score trunks and bags within its confines.

The staff member led your cohort on a twenty-minute walk to the academy grounds. They were too preoccupied to speak with any of you who didn't have a crisis, so you kept your own counsel, busy goggling at the buildings that soared around you. Those'll be described when it's time to Choose Yuri Own Destination for a later day off, so cool your heels for now.

Anyway, you've arrived at the school. There's a grand auditorium where your group meets with the other new students of your year. It seems those who arrived by coach were only part of the incoming students. Some must be townies, and perhaps there are others who have come from the docks or other places.

Soon it will be time to test your magical aptitude and learn your dorm assignment. You know you have some amount of magic from the results of the basic magical screening everyone gets when they turn thirteen, but the testing equipment at your town's hall is only sophisticated enough to give a rough idea. You can't wait to learn your magical affinity!

Well, you're gonna have to. Seems there's still some time before the ceremony actually begins. Hurry up and wait and all that. You glance around to see if any of the other students are feeling as impatient as you are. A few folks catch your eye, the ones with character designs that mean they likely have custom dialogue portraits. Since you've got nothing better to do, why not go talk to one of them?

Nearby, at the center of a group of interchangeable rich-looking girls, is a regal young lady attired in fashion far finer than anything you'd before seen in person. She has immaculately-styled blond ringlets and piercing blue eyes. Just as piercing is her voice as she lets out a predictable "ohoho!" with a hand up to her mouth.

A short girl with mousy brown hair and wide brown eyes flinches at the sound. She clutches a worn school satchel like a lifeline. Its strap has been mended several times over, and the bag itself is more patchwork than original fabric, but it's clearly important since she didn't leave it with the rest of the student luggage. Her gaze darts around, looking for a safe escape from her conversation with the blonde.

You weren't the only one whose attention was caught by the oujo-sama laugh. A tall, dour girl with large glasses looks up from her book, her eyebrows narrowed in irritation. You can't see her eyes because the light strikes at just the right angle to render an obfuscating glare. The book she's holding seems to be a textbook, and it's got enough heft to it to kill a small moose. Her fingers drum against the back cover, but she doesn't seem inclined to interject all the same.

Also there are some men, but you're probably not interested in them. So? Who do you want to approach? Or do you just wanna kick back with some popcorn and see what unfolds?

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