#SOMEONE MAKE THIS PLEASE IM NOT TALENTED ENOUGH

[stanraouldechagny]

AND WHEN SOMEONE MAKES A PHANTOM OF THE OPERA EDIT TO THE SMALLEST MAN WHO EVER LIVED, WHAT THEN????

[princessofdarkness21]

Headcanons because I want to see more cute and wholesome metal family fanfics that aren't problematic ships!!



<3 Asexual Ches

<3 Dee and Diane have a slow burn romance after Lif breaks his heart

<3 Every summer the fam goes to stay in Anna's mansion to swim in her pool and have movie nights in her home theater and chaos and drama ensue (Anna is superrr rich, don't question it ok)

<3 Heavy and Dee sneak out to go to a party one night because Heavy really wants to go and Dee heard Lif will be there. Dee's stalker from the show is there and Heavy protects him. And also worried parents Glam and Vicky when they wake up and the kids aren't there!!!

<3 Also, this one might be a bit darker, but Dee's stalker kidnaps and takes him to a secret government lab where they perform tests to see why he is so intelligent/use him as a weapon. I mainly just want the hurt/comfort after he's rescued along with a little bit of plot

<3 Dee has a breakdown in the counselor's office at school. Glam decides to pick him up and the two have a fun day skipping school together





[chaoticsoysauce]

idea for a post-fall hannigram au:

will and hannibal die after the fall but, as they drowned in the ocean, they both are reincarnated as selkies, and they're given another chance to live, together

[enhaflixer]

hogwarts time travel au! traveling to the future and waking up MARRIED PART 1

slytherin!riki x gryffindor!reader PART 2 HERE

warnings: time travel, sex, kissing, lots of kissing, kinda angsty, they have two kids, there are pranks and rivalry and its just real cute im ngl

-

The library had been blissfully quiet for exactly forty-three minutes. You'd counted. Forty-three minutes of peaceful study, undisturbed concentration, and actual progress on your Transfiguration essay. Which meant you were overdue for—

A paper crane swooped down from nowhere, circling your head three times before unfolding itself atop your carefully organized notes. The parchment fluttered open to reveal a doodle of what appeared to be you with steam coming out of your ears and your hair standing on end. Beneath it, elegant script that you unfortunately recognized immediately:

Looking a bit tense today, Gryffindork. Did someone hide your color-coded study schedule again?

You closed your eyes and counted to ten, but only made it to four before the sound of poorly suppressed laughter broke your concentration. Across the library, lounging in a chair as though he owned the place, sat Nishimura Riki. The bane of your existence for seven consecutive years.

"Real mature," you muttered, crumpling the parchment and tossing it over your shoulder.

The paper froze mid-air, reversed direction, and neatly unfolded itself before landing back on your textbook.

"That's littering, you know," Riki called, just loud enough to make Madam Pince shoot you both a warning glare. "Not very environmentally conscious of you."

You stabbed your quill into your inkpot with unnecessary force. "Some of us are trying to study for our N.E.W.T.s like responsible seventh-years."

Riki stretched, his Slytherin tie deliberately loosened, black hair artfully tousled in that way that made half the school swoon and made you want to hex him bald. "Ah yes, another thrilling evening of revising information you memorized three months ago. Living the dream."

"Not everyone coasts by on natural talent and family connections," you shot back.

Something flashed in his dark eyes – irritation, perhaps – but his smirk never faltered. "Is that what you think? That I don't work for my grades?"

"I think," you said, gathering your belongings with precise movements, "that you spend more time planning elaborate pranks than studying, yet somehow maintain your position as second in our class."

"Second only to you," he said with an exaggerated bow. "Though not for lack of trying."

Your academic rivalry was legendary – seven years of trading the top spot back and forth, never more than a few points separating you. It would have been admirable if he wasn't so insufferable about it.

"Well, some of us can't afford to waste time," you said, shoving your books into your bag.

Riki pushed off his chair and sauntered over, dropping into the seat across from you without invitation. "You know what your problem is?"

"Currently? You're sitting at my table."

He leaned forward, undeterred. "You've forgotten how to have fun. When was the last time you did something just because it made you laugh?"

"I laugh plenty," you insisted, though the defensive tone in your voice betrayed you.

"At jokes in textbooks, maybe." He twirled his wand between his fingers – a nervous habit he'd had since first year. "You're seventeen going on seventy."

"And you're seventeen going on seven," you countered. "Wasn't it your enchanted water balloons that flooded the third floor yesterday?"

His grin widened. "Can't prove it was me."

"Professor Flitwick literally said, 'Impressive charm work, Mr. Nishimura, but please reserve it for your classwork.'"

"He appreciates creativity," Riki shrugged, then lowered his voice conspiratorially. "But that was nothing. Tomorrow's prank will be legendary."

Despite yourself, curiosity piqued. "What are you planning now?"

"Concerned for my academic future?" he teased. "Worried I might finally surpass you if I get expelled?"

"Worried about innocent bystanders," you corrected. "Your last 'legendary' prank turned the entire Ravenclaw Quidditch team purple for a week."

"That was an accident," he protested, though his smile suggested otherwise. "The color was supposed to fade after twenty-four hours."

You rolled your eyes and stood up. "Well, whatever you're planning, leave me out of it. Some of us have actual goals beyond being remembered as Hogwarts' most annoying student."

His laugh followed you as you headed for the exit. "Come on! You know you'd be much happier if you loosened up a little!"

You resolutely ignored him, which was your standard approach to Nishimura Riki. Seven years of practice had proven it was the only way to maintain your sanity.

You should have known ignoring him wouldn't work. It never did.

The next morning, you woke to find every single one of your quills had been enchanted to write nothing but love poems. About him.

Eyes dark as midnight, smile sharp as wit, Nishimura Riki, quite the perfect fit...

"That's IT!" You stormed into the Great Hall, marching directly to the Slytherin table where Riki sat surrounded by his usual admirers. You slammed the offending quill down in front of him.

He looked up with infuriating innocence. "Problem?"

"Fix. My. Quills." Each word came through gritted teeth.

He inspected the quill with exaggerated care. "I'm flattered, truly, but I don't think I inspired this passionate declaration. Perhaps you've been harboring secret feelings?"

Several of his friends snickered. Your cheeks burned, but whether from anger or embarrassment, you refused to analyze.

"This isn't funny," you hissed. "I have a Charms practical in twenty minutes."

"Hmm." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "That is a problem."

"A problem you created!"

"I suppose I could fix it..." he mused, "for a price."

You crossed your arms. "What price?"

His smile turned mischievous. "Admit that I'm the better duelist."

This was an ongoing point of contention. You'd been evenly matched in Defense Against the Dark Arts since third year, much to both your frustrations.

"Never," you declared. "I beat you fair and square last week."

"You caught me off-guard with that modified Impediment Jinx."

"Which is called strategy," you countered. "Something you might understand if you spent more time studying and less time being an insufferable prat."

He clutched his heart dramatically. "You wound me. And here I thought we were friends."

"We are not friends," you said firmly. "We have never been friends."

Something shifted in his expression – so briefly you might have imagined it – before his usual smirk returned. "Fine. I'll fix your quills because I'm magnanimous and mature."

You snorted.

He flicked his wand, muttering an incantation under his breath. "There. Crisis averted. Though I was looking forward to Professor Flitwick reading poetry about my 'raven locks' and 'quicksilver reflexes.'"

"You're impossible," you said, snatching back your quill.

He winked. "Yet somehow you put up with me."

"Not by choice," you grumbled, turning to leave.

"Oh, by the way," he called after you, "pink is definitely your color!"

You frowned, then caught your reflection in a silver platter. Your hair had turned bright, bubblegum pink.

"NISHIMURA!"

-

It took three counter-charms to fix your hair, making you late for Charms and costing Gryffindor five points. Which was exactly what Riki had intended, no doubt. Your houses were neck-and-neck for the cup, and every point mattered in these final weeks.

Retaliation was necessary. And for once, you decided to beat him at his own game.

It took careful planning, timed precisely to the Slytherin Quidditch practice. A specialized color-changing potion in his shampoo (courtesy of a reluctant Slughorn, who thought you were doing "extra credit research"). By dinner, every Slytherin at the table was staring at Riki's violently pink hair and robes.

The best part? The potion was keyed to only activate for clothing in Slytherin colors and hair of his exact shade. No innocent bystanders.

His expression when he realized what had happened was worth the three nights of sleep you'd sacrificed to perfect the potion.

"Well played," he conceded when he cornered you after dinner, his robes still resolutely pink despite numerous attempts to change them back.

You allowed yourself a satisfied smile. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"This means war, you know." But he didn't sound angry – if anything, he seemed impressed.

"We've been at war since you turned my cauldron into a toad in first year," you reminded him.

"Good times," he sighed nostalgically. "Though I think you're forgetting that I never leave a prank unanswered."

You shrugged. "Do your worst, Nishimura. I'll be ready."

-

You were not, in fact, ready.

Three days later, whispers followed you through the corridors. Students giggled behind their hands as you passed. Even the professors were giving you strange looks.

It wasn't until Luna Lovegood approached you at lunch with her dreamy expression that you discovered why.

"I think it's very brave of you to be so public with your feelings," she said, patting your hand. "Though the singing Valentine might have been a bit much."

"What singing Valentine?" you asked, a sense of dread building.

She blinked owlishly. "The one you sent to Riki Nishimura this morning. With the cherubs and rose petals? It performed in the middle of the entrance hall."

Your blood ran cold. "I didn't send—"

But Luna had already drifted away, leaving you to face the horrified realization that Riki had successfully framed you for sending him the most over-the-top, public declaration of love in Hogwarts history.

The smug look on his face when you found him confirmed everything.

"That was LOW," you growled, jabbing a finger into his chest. "Even for you."

He captured your finger, gently pushing it away. "Just giving the people what they want. Half the school already thinks we're secretly in love, given how obsessed we are with each other."

"We are NOT—" you spluttered, then lowered your voice when you realized people were watching. "We are not obsessed with each other."

"Seven years of elaborate pranks suggests otherwise," he pointed out.

"Seven years of you being an absolute menace," you corrected.

He leaned against the wall, studying you with unexpected seriousness. "You know, anyone else would have reported me to McGonagall years ago. Yet you always retaliate instead. Why is that?"

The question caught you off guard. Why hadn't you ever reported him? It would have been the sensible thing to do.

"Because," you said finally, "that would be admitting you've won."

His slow smile was different from his usual smirk – smaller, more genuine. "And we can't have that, can we?"

"Never," you agreed, finding yourself smiling back despite everything.

The moment stretched, something unspoken passing between you before you broke the spell. "This isn't over, Nishimura. I'm going to make you regret that Valentine stunt."

"Looking forward to it," he called as you walked away.

-

Your opportunity came sooner than expected. You discovered quite by accident that Riki had been working on a modified time-distortion spell – not an actual Time-Turner, but a charm that created the illusion of time passing. His plan, according to the notes you'd "borrowed" from his bag during Potions, was to make you think you'd slept through your Arithmancy N.E.W.T.

Clever, but not clever enough.

You spent a week developing a counter-charm, designed to reflect the spell back on its caster. It was advanced magic, beyond N.E.W.T. level really, but the thought of beating Riki at his own game was too tempting to resist.

The night before the Arithmancy exam, you stayed up late in the library, knowing he'd make his move when you were exhausted and vulnerable. Sure enough, just after midnight, you detected the subtle shimmer of disillusionment as he crept toward your table.

You pretended to be dozing on your textbook, wand concealed but ready beneath the pages.

You felt rather than saw the moment he cast the spell – a strange ripple in the air, the whispered Latin incantation. In one fluid motion, you raised your wand and cast your counter-charm.

"Tempus Reflectum!"

Your spells collided in midair with a sound like shattering glass. Golden light erupted between you, blinding in its intensity. You felt a strange pulling sensation behind your navel, similar to a Portkey but stronger, as if something was yanking you through dimensions rather than mere space.

The last thing you saw was Riki's shocked face, his hand reaching toward you as the magic engulfed you both.

Then darkness.

You woke to sunlight on your face and the unfamiliar sensation of high-thread-count sheets against your skin. Your head pounded viciously, like the aftermath of a poorly brewed Wit-Sharpening Potion. Groggily, you rolled over, burying your face in a pillow that smelled of lavender and something else – a woody, spicy scent that was strangely familiar.

"Five more minutes," you mumbled, pulling blankets over your head.

Wait. These weren't your Gryffindor dormitory blankets.

Your eyes snapped open, heart racing. This wasn't your bed in Gryffindor Tower. The room was unfamiliar - spacious with burgundy accents and photographs you didn't recognize.

Worse, you weren't alone.

A warm weight pressed against your side. You turned your head slowly and froze. Nishimura Riki - your sworn enemy - was asleep next to you, his dark hair tousled, face relaxed in sleep, looking several years older than he should.

"What the—" you started, voice dying as your brain struggled to process the impossible sight before you. This wasn't right. This couldn't be happening.

Riki stirred beside you, mumbling something incoherent. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first. Then he blinked rapidly, confusion washing over his features as he registered the unfamiliar surroundings. When his gaze finally landed on you, he froze.

"Wait..." he said groggily, rubbing his eyes like he might be dreaming. "What's going on?"

You scrambled backward, nearly falling off the bed in your haste. "Why are you— Where are we—" The questions tumbled over each other, none completing themselves.

Riki seemed equally disoriented, looking down at his own body, touching his face. "I feel... different. Older?" His voice was deeper, his shoulders broader. This wasn't the lanky seventeen-year-old who'd been tormenting you yesterday.

"This isn't Hogwarts," you whispered, taking in the room. "This isn't my dormitory. Why are we in a bed? Together?" Your voice rose with each question.

Realization dawned on his face, horror quickly replacing confusion. "No. No way. Tell me this isn't..."

The fog of sleep dissipated completely, replaced by rising panic. "You!" he finally accused, pointing a shaking finger. "What did you do? Where did you bring us?"

"ME?" Indignation cut through your shock. "You think I did this?" You grabbed a pillow and threw it at his head with all your strength. "This is clearly one of your stupid pranks gone wrong!"

"My pranks are never stupid," he shot back automatically, then looked wildly around the room at the photographs, at the clothing visible in the open wardrobe, at the obvious signs of a shared life. "And I definitely wouldn't prank myself into... whatever this nightmare is."

You noticed a wand on the nightstand - your wand, but somehow more worn - and lunged for it. As you did, something gold caught the light. A wedding ring on your finger.

"No," you whispered, staring at your hand. "No, no, no."

Riki noticed his own matching band and went pale. "This isn't possible."

You rushed to the mirror and gasped. Your reflection was you, but older - mid-twenties at least, with different hair and a confidence in your eyes your seventeen-year-old self had never possessed.

"If this is your idea of funny, Nishimura—" you began, whirling back toward him.

"For the last time, this isn't me!" he snapped, running a hand through his hair. "I was trying to prank you with a time-distortion spell, not..." he gestured between you wildly, "whatever nightmare this is!"

"Time-distortion?" Your eyes narrowed. "That spell you were working on in the library! The one I countered with—"

"You countered it?" Riki jumped to his feet. "What did you use? What exactly did you cast?"

"A reflection charm. It was supposed to bounce your stupid prank back at you!"

"You interfered with experimental magic?" He looked genuinely appalled. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?"

"Oh, that's rich coming from you! The walking disaster who once turned the entire Great Hall ceiling into a swamp!"

"That was brilliant spellwork and you know it!"

Your shouting match escalated until you barely noticed the small figure appearing in the doorway. It wasn't until you heard a heartbroken sob that you both fell silent and turned.

A little girl stood there, maybe three years old, with tears streaming down her chubby cheeks. She had Riki's deep, dark eyes—so dark they were almost black—but your nose and mouth. Her black hair fell in messy waves to her shoulders, with a stubborn cowlick at the crown that somehow looked familiar. She wore mismatched pajamas—a Holyhead Harpies top and bottoms covered in tiny golden snitches. She was clutching a well-loved stuffed dragon, its once-vibrant green scales faded from countless hugs.

"Mama, Dada, no fight," she hiccupped, her lower lip trembling so dramatically that your heart clenched in response. "No fight, please."

The raw distress in her voice hit you like a physical blow. This child—your child, somehow—was devastated by your argument. And though your rational mind insisted she was a stranger, something deeper, more instinctive, recognized her as yours.

You caught Riki's expression changing from confusion to concern, his usual smirk melting away completely. His entire body language transformed in an instant—shoulders relaxing, voice softening to a tone you'd never heard him use before.

"Hey, it's okay," he said gently, approaching her with cautious steps and kneeling down to her level. "We're not fighting. We're just... talking loud."

His hand reached out to smooth her hair in a gesture that seemed so natural it startled you. The tenderness in his touch was nothing like the Riki you knew—the prankster, the rival, the perpetual thorn in your side.

"Loud scary," she whimpered, clutching her dragon tighter. Its head was tucked under her chin in a practiced motion of self-comfort. "Suki no like." Her voice broke on the last word, fresh tears spilling down her already damp cheeks.

Something powerful and overwhelming surged through you—a fierce, protective instinct you'd never felt before. Without thinking, you moved toward her, your body acting before your mind could catch up. It felt like gravity—like you physically couldn't stay across the room while she was crying.

You knelt beside Riki, your shoulders almost touching as you both hunched down to her height. "We're sorry we scared you, Suki," you said, your voice coming out gentle and soothing, as if you'd comforted this child a thousand times before.

She looked up at you with those big, tear-filled eyes—Riki's eyes, unmistakably—and something twisted in your chest. Recognition flashed between you, soul-deep, impossible to explain. You'd never met this child before today, but your heart knew her.

Your hand reached out of its own volition to wipe a tear from her soft cheek. The moment your skin touched hers, a rush of emotion flooded through you—love, protectiveness, and a bone-deep certainty that whatever else was happening, this connection was real.

"Dragon scared too," she said solemnly, holding up the stuffed toy. Now that you looked more closely, you noticed the dragon had a tiny Gryffindor scarf around its neck, clearly handknitted. "Puff needs hugs when scared."

"Puff?" you asked softly.

"Short for Puffskein," Riki explained automatically, then looked surprised at his own knowledge. "I think... I gave it to her on her second birthday."

Suki nodded vigorously. "Daddy said... said Puff keeps bad dreams away."

Your eyes met Riki's over her head, a moment of mutual bewilderment passing between you. How could he know that? How could either of you feel such instant recognition of a child you'd just met?

"Well," you said, finding your voice again. "Puff is right. Hugs do help when you're scared."

Suki looked at you hopefully, arms lifting in an unmistakable request. The gesture was so innocent, so trusting, that you couldn't refuse. You gathered her small body against yours, surprised by how naturally she fit in your arms, how right her weight felt. She smelled of baby shampoo and that indefinable sweet scent that seemed to belong only to children.

When she reached one arm out to include Riki in the hug, you watched his face cycle through confusion, hesitation, and then surrender. He moved closer, completing the circle, his arm brushing yours as he embraced both you and Suki.

For one strange, suspended moment, the three of you stayed like that—a tableau of family comfort that felt both foreign and achingly familiar. You caught Riki's eyes over Suki's head, and the confusion in them mirrored your own, but there was something else there too—a vulnerability you'd never seen before.

Suki's small hand patted your cheek. "Better now?" she asked, her tears already drying as children's often do, her resilience astonishing. She looked between you with such hope, such complete faith that her parents could fix anything, that you felt a lump form in your throat.

"Yes," you managed, though nothing was better, nothing made sense. "Much better."

Riki nodded, his voice slightly hoarse when he added, "All better, Suki."

She beamed then, her whole face lighting up with such joy that it physically hurt to look at. Her smile—your smile, undeniably—transformed her tear-stained face. "Suki fixed it," she declared proudly, patting her own chest. "Suki good helper."

"The best helper," Riki agreed, with a sincerity that sounded strange coming from him.

She wiggled out of the embrace, suddenly energized now that the crisis had passed. "Hungry now," she announced, as if the emotional storm had never happened. "Pancakes? With chocolate?"

"And berries," you found yourself adding, the words coming from nowhere. "You need something healthy with all that chocolate."

"Always saying that," Suki said with a dramatic sigh that was so reminiscent of Riki's that you almost laughed despite everything. "Boring."

Riki smothered what might have been a chuckle. "Some things never change," he murmured, so quietly only you could hear.

Suki grabbed both your hands in her small ones, tugging with surprising strength. "Come on! Sara waiting!"

As she mentioned the other child, another voice called out from somewhere down the hall—a younger, less articulate voice that nevertheless commanded attention.

"MAMA! DADA! UP!"

Riki's eyes met yours again, a silent question passing between you. Neither of you had to say it aloud: how could something feel so wrong and so right at the same time? How could these children be strangers and yet feel like they were pieces of your own heart?

Suki tugged more insistently. "Sara awake. She hungry too."

You allowed yourself to be pulled to your feet, noticing as you rose that Riki's hand lingered near your elbow, steadying you as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He snatched it back when he realized what he was doing, but not before you felt the warmth of his touch—so different from the antagonistic shoves and playful jabs you were used to exchanging.

"We should..." he began awkwardly.

"Yeah," you agreed, equally uncomfortable. "The other one—Sara—she sounds..."

"Impatient," Riki finished, a hint of his usual wry humor returning. "Wonder where she gets that from."

"Certainly not from me," you retorted automatically, falling into your familiar pattern of banter before you could stop yourself.

Suki looked up at you both, her dark eyes narrowing with that uncanny perceptiveness again. "No more fighting," she warned, squeezing your hands. "Promise?"

The way she said it—like she was the parent and you were the children—made something catch in your throat. This tiny person somehow had the power to make you feel both chastised and protected.

"Promise," you said softly, and meant it.

"For now," Riki added with a ghost of his usual mischief, but when Suki's eyes narrowed further, he quickly amended, "I mean, yes, I promise too."

Suki nodded, satisfied with your compliance. "Good," she declared. "Now pancakes."

She pulled you both toward the door with the confidence of someone who knew exactly where she was going and expected the rest of the world to follow. And somehow, despite everything—the confusion, the impossibility of the situation, the fact that you were in a strange house with the person you'd spent seven years despising—you found yourself following her lead.

As you passed through the doorway, your arm brushed against Riki's, and instead of flinching away as you normally would, you felt an odd sense of reassurance from the contact. You were both lost here, both confused, but at least you were lost together.

"Temporary truce?" you whispered to him, just low enough that Suki couldn't hear.

"Absolutely," he agreed, his voice equally soft. "But for the record, I still think this is somehow your fault."

"And I'm certain it's yours," you countered, but there was no real heat in it.

Suki glanced back, caught you whispering, and gave you both a look of such knowing approval that you wondered if she'd somehow orchestrated this whole bizarre situation. For a three-year-old, she seemed remarkably in control.

"Come on, slow pokes!" she called, tugging you forward. "Sara waiting!"

The voice from down the hall called again, more insistently this time:

"DADA! UP NOW!"

You followed in stunned silence, wondering what cosmic joke had landed you in a future where you and Nishimura Riki had not only married but created this earnest little peacemaker and her baby sister.

-

After a chaotic breakfast involving Sara wearing more pancake than she ate and Suki demonstrating her surprisingly advanced levitation skills ("No, Suki, we don't float the syrup to the ceiling"), you finally managed to settle the children with enchanted coloring books in the living room.

"We have approximately seven minutes before disaster strikes again," Riki muttered, watching Sara scribble with determined focus. "Let's use them wisely."

"We need to search the house," you whispered. "Find anything that might explain what happened or how to reverse it."

You split up, Riki taking the study while you explored the sitting room. The cottage was larger than it appeared from outside—clearly magically extended—with comfortable, lived-in furnishings that blended wizarding and Muggle styles seamlessly.

The walls were covered with photographs—magical ones that moved and Muggle ones that didn't. They told the story of a life you couldn't remember living: graduation from Hogwarts (standing suspiciously close to Riki), your wedding (looking disgustingly happy), Riki in formal Auror robes receiving some kind of commendation, you in professor's robes surrounded by students.

You paused at a series of photos displaying Suki's early days. There was one of you in a hospital bed, looking exhausted but radiant, cradling a newborn bundle while Riki sat beside you, one arm around your shoulders. The look on his face—pure wonder mixed with what could only be described as adoration—was so unlike any expression you'd ever seen him wear that you had to look away.

"Found something," Riki called softly from the study. "Photo albums. Lots of them."

You joined him, settling on the floor as he spread several leather-bound albums before you. Each was meticulously labeled in what appeared to be your handwriting: "Wedding," "Suki's First Year," "Sara's Birth," "Family Holidays."

"This is surreal," you muttered, opening the one labeled "Sara's Birth."

The images inside showed a progression: you with a rounded belly, Riki's hand resting on it with a proud smile; you in labor, gripping Riki's hand so tightly his fingers were white (that one gave you a small satisfaction); and finally, Riki holding newborn Sara, tears streaming unashamedly down his face while Suki peered curiously at her new sister.

"I look...happy," Riki said quietly, touching the edge of the photo.

"We both do," you admitted reluctantly.

You flipped through more pages, watching your impossible family life unfold. Holidays at what appeared to be his parents' home in Japan. Suki's first steps. Sara's naming ceremony.

"Look at this one," Riki said, pointing to a photo of both of you asleep on a couch, Suki as a baby nestled between you. The image captured pure exhaustion, but also undeniable contentment.

"This can't be real," you whispered, but the evidence was overwhelming. "How did we go from hexing each other to...this?"

Riki closed the album carefully. "More importantly, how do we get back to our time?"

You stood abruptly, pacing the study. "There must be something in this house—your research notes, my lesson plans, anything that might explain the magic that sent us here."

"Or how to reverse it," Riki added, rising to his feet.

"Exactly," you agreed, turning too quickly and colliding with him. His hands automatically steadied you, fingers wrapping around your upper arms.

You jerked away. "Don't touch me, Nishimura," you hissed. "Get your filthy fingers off me. God knows where they've been."

Something flickered in his eyes—hurt, perhaps?—before his usual smirk reappeared. He leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper. "I don't know about God, but judging by these photos, I think I know where you'd like them to be."

Your face burned. "You're disgusting."

"And yet, apparently, you married me," he countered, gesturing to the ring on your finger. "Enthusiastically, from the looks of these albums."

You were about to deliver a scathing retort when a small sniffle from the doorway froze you both. Suki stood there, clutching Puff, her bottom lip wobbling dangerously.

"Mama and Dada fighting again?" she asked, voice trembling.

Pure panic flashed across Riki's face—the same feeling coursing through you. You had exactly two seconds to prevent another meltdown.

Without thinking, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around Riki's waist, plastering what you hoped was a convincing smile on your face.

"Not fighting, sweetheart," you said quickly. "Dada and I were just...playing."

Riki, to his credit, recovered quickly. His arm slid around your shoulders, pulling you close against his side.

"That's right," he agreed, smiling down at Suki. "Mama and I were just being silly."

Suki didn't look entirely convinced. "No more loud voices?"

"No more loud voices," you promised.

She studied you both with those unnervingly perceptive eyes, then nodded slowly. "Okay. Sara made mess. Big mess."

You exchanged an alarmed glance with Riki before hurrying to the living room, where you discovered Sara had somehow gotten hold of a pot of Everlasting Ink. The black liquid covered the toddler, the carpet, and most of a nearby armchair.

"How—" you began.

"I left for one minute!" Suki defended herself. "One minute!"

You bit back a laugh at her indignant tone—so reminiscent of your own when dealing with Riki's pranks—and turned to assess the damage.

"I'll take Sara for a bath," Riki offered, gingerly lifting the ink-covered toddler. "You tackle the furniture?"

You nodded, surprised by how easily you both fell into problem-solving mode. "Suki, can you show me where we keep the cleaning supplies?"

The crisis was half-managed when a bright silver light burst through the window. A tabby cat Patronus landed gracefully on the coffee table, fixing you both with a stern, familiar gaze.

"Mr. Nishimura. Miss L/N ]," came Professor McGonagall's voice from the ethereal cat. "Or should I say, Professor and Auror Nishimura? I am aware of your...temporal predicament. Report to my office at Hogwarts immediately. Without the children, if you please. Eight o'clock this evening. Do try not to destroy anything else in the meantime."

The Patronus dissolved, leaving a stunned silence in its wake.

"She knows," you whispered.

"Of course she does," Riki said, Sara squirming in his arms, leaving ink stains on his shirt. "She's McGonagall."

"But how? And what did she mean 'destroy anything else'?" A thought struck you. "Merlin's beard—what if our spell did more than just send us through time? What if we changed something important?"

Riki frowned. "Or broke something magical."

"The timeline itself, perhaps," you suggested, feeling sick.

"Well," he said, shifting Sara to his other hip, "at least we don't have to figure this out alone now."

You looked around at the chaotic scene—the ink-stained room, the confused children, the evidence of a life neither of you remembered building—and felt a wave of hysterical laughter bubble up.

"What's so funny?" Riki asked, eyebrows raised.

"Just picturing McGonagall's face when we have to explain that this all started because you tried to make me miss an exam."

He opened his mouth to argue, then shook his head with a rueful smile. "We are so getting detention. For a month. Possibly the rest of our lives."

Suki tugged at your hand. "Who was the cat lady?"

You knelt down to her level. "That was Headmistress McGonagall. She's...an old friend."

"The scary one from your stories?" Suki asked, eyes wide. "The one who can turn into a cat?"

"Exactly that one," Riki confirmed.

Suki considered this information solemnly. "She mad at you?"

You exchanged a look with Riki. "Probably," you admitted.

"Definitely," he corrected.

"You need timeout?" Suki asked seriously.

This time, when your eyes met Riki's, you couldn't help it—you both burst out laughing, the tension of the morning finally breaking. Suki looked between you, confused but pleased that her parents were laughing instead of fighting.

"Yes, Suki," you managed when you could speak again. "I think Dada and I are in a very long timeout."

"The longest," Riki agreed, his smile—his real smile, not the smirk you were used to—making something flutter strangely in your chest.

You quickly looked away, focusing on the ink stain. Whatever was happening, whatever McGonagall knew, one thing was certain—you needed to fix this mess and get back where you belonged. Before you started getting used to Riki's genuine smile, or the way Suki's hand felt in yours, or the strange sense of rightness that kept creeping in despite your best efforts to ignore it.

Because this wasn't your life. It couldn't be. No matter what the photographs showed or how natural it sometimes felt.

...Could it?

Meeting with McGonagall had been exactly as intimidating as expected. Even as adults—or at least, in adult bodies—you both found yourselves fidgeting under her stern gaze like first-years caught out after curfew.

"Of all the reckless, irresponsible applications of magic," she'd said, pacing her office while portraits of former headmasters watched with varying degrees of amusement. "A temporal displacement caused by a schoolyard rivalry. Albus would have found this terribly entertaining." Her tone made it clear she did not share this sentiment.

McGonagall had explained, with remarkable patience, that your spell collision had created a rare but not unprecedented magical phenomenon. You had essentially switched places with your future selves—who were now presumably navigating your teenage lives at Hogwarts.

"So does that mean we can go back?" you'd asked hopefully.

Her answer had crushed that hope. "The magic will resolve itself naturally in approximately four weeks. Any attempt to force a reversal could cause irreparable damage to both timelines."

"Four WEEKS?" Riki had choked out.

"Consider it an educational opportunity, Mr. Nishimura," McGonagall had replied, the ghost of a smile playing at her lips. "A chance to see where your choices lead. Perhaps it will inspire better decision-making in your youth."

And with that decidedly unhelpful advice, she'd sent you both back to your cottage and your borrowed life, with instructions to maintain your professional obligations and "try not to destroy the timeline."

Which was how you found yourself standing in front of a classroom of third-year students the next morning, trying to remember anything useful about shield charms beyond the basics you'd learned in fifth year.

"Professor?" A Ravenclaw girl in the front row raised her hand. "You said last week we'd be practicing against minor hexes today."

"Right," you said, stalling. "But first, let's review. Can anyone tell me the three key principles of effective shielding?"

Thank Merlin for eager students. As they rattled off answers, you discreetly consulted the lesson plans you'd found in your desk drawer. Apparently, your future self was exceptionally organized—each lesson meticulously planned with notes on individual students' progress.

Meanwhile, Riki had reluctantly departed for the Ministry, armed with a crash course in current Auror protocols courtesy of a surprisingly helpful portrait of a former Head of Magical Law Enforcement hanging in McGonagall's office.

"Just act important and delegate everything," the portrait had advised with a wink. "Standard procedure for department heads after a vacation."

Department head. Apparently, Riki had risen quickly through Auror ranks to lead a specialized unit focused on magical smuggling and illegal enchantments. Your respect for your future husband's abilities had increased considerably—not that you'd admit it aloud.

The day passed in a blur of classes, staff meetings, and trying not to reveal your temporal displacement to colleagues who clearly knew you well. By evening, you were mentally exhausted but strangely exhilarated. You'd always secretly considered teaching, and discovering that you'd achieved that ambition was oddly satisfying.

Riki returned home via Floo just before dinner, looking shell-shocked but intact. The children greeted him with enthusiasm, Suki launching herself at his legs while Sara babbled excitedly from her high chair.

"How was it?" you asked once the initial chaos subsided.

"Terrifying," he admitted quietly, accepting the cup of tea you offered. "I'm apparently in charge of seventeen Aurors and coordinating with magical law enforcement across Europe. Me. The guy who once transfigured all the Slytherin common room furniture into rubber ducks."

"Well, you always were good at transfiguration," you pointed out, surprising yourself with the compliment.

He looked equally surprised. "Did you just acknowledge one of my skills without adding an insult?"

"Don't get used to it." But you found yourself smiling anyway.

Suki, ever watchful, observed this exchange with obvious approval. "Dada catch bad wizards today?" she asked, climbing onto his lap.

"Sort of," Riki answered, automatically adjusting to accommodate her. "Dada mostly signed papers and pretended to know what he was doing."

"That's what you always say," Suki giggled, clearly accustomed to this joke.

You watched them together, struck again by how naturally Riki had adapted to fatherhood. The boy who'd once charmed your quills to write nothing but love poems about himself was now patiently listening to a toddler's detailed description of her day at magical daycare.

"Miss Penny let me feed the pygmy puffs," Suki was explaining earnestly. "And I didn't even squeeze them too hard this time."

"That's my girl," Riki said, genuine pride in his voice. "Always improving."

Later, after you'd managed bathtime (Sara could apparently generate tsunamis with minimal water) and bedtime stories (Suki insisted on three, with different voices for each character), you and Riki faced the awkward reality of sleeping arrangements.

"I'll take the sofa," he offered, hovering in the bedroom doorway.

"Don't be ridiculous," you said practically. "That sofa is barely long enough for Suki. We're adults. We can share a bed without it being... weird."

Both of you knew this was a lie, but neither acknowledged it.

You established firm boundaries—a pillow wall down the center of the mattress and strict adherence to respective sides. You changed in the bathroom, emerging in pajamas you'd found in a drawer (thankfully modest), while Riki wore sweatpants and a t-shirt that he'd clearly transfigured to be baggier than its original fit.

"Goodnight," you said stiffly, turning your back to the pillow barrier.

"Goodnight," he replied from his side. "Try not to snore."

"I do not snore!"

"How would you know? You're asleep when it happens."

Just like that, you were arguing again—the familiar pattern a strange comfort in this unfamiliar situation.

You must have eventually fallen asleep, because the next thing you knew, you were waking to a small voice and the mattress dipping slightly.

"Mama? Dada? Bad dream."

Suki stood beside the bed in her Holyhead Harpies pajamas, Puff clutched tightly to her chest, eyes wide and frightened in the dim wandlight that automatically illuminated at her distress.

Riki sat up immediately, all traces of sleep vanishing. "What kind of bad dream, Suki-bean?"

The casual endearment slipped out so naturally that neither of you remarked on it.

"Monsters," she whispered dramatically. "In the closet. And under bed. And in curtains."

"That's a lot of monsters," you said, sitting up as well.

"So many," she agreed solemnly. "Need both Mama and Dada."

She was already climbing onto the bed, worming her way directly into the center—right over your carefully constructed pillow barrier. She settled between you, looking from one to the other expectantly.

"Both stay," she insisted. "Both keep monsters away."

Riki met your eyes over her head, silently communicating in that strange way you'd developed over the past few days. You nodded slightly.

"We'll both stay," he promised. "No monsters allowed."

"That's right," you agreed. "Mama and Dada are scarier than any monsters."

Suki considered this, then nodded decisively. "Mama has scary voice when Sara draws on walls."

Riki bit back a laugh. "She certainly does."

You elbowed him lightly, but couldn't help smiling. Suki snuggled down between you, one small hand gripping your pajama top, the other clutching Riki's shirt.

"Night-night," she murmured, already drifting back to sleep, secure in the knowledge that her parents would keep her safe.

You lay awake long after her breathing deepened, acutely aware of Riki doing the same on the other side of your daughter. Your daughter. The thought still sent a jolt through you.

"This is strange, isn't it?" he whispered finally. "How quickly this starts feeling..."

"Normal," you finished when he trailed off. "I know."

"I'm not as terrible at this as I would have expected," he admitted.

"And I'm not hexing you every five minutes, which shows remarkable restraint on my part."

His low chuckle vibrated through the mattress. "Perhaps we've matured. A little."

"Apparently enough to create this," you said softly, gently brushing a strand of hair from Suki's forehead.

"She's pretty amazing, isn't she?" The naked pride in his voice made your throat tighten.

"Both of them are."

Silence fell again, but it was different now—contemplative rather than awkward. Eventually, you drifted off to sleep, the last sensation being Suki's warm weight against your side and, just beyond her, the steady rhythm of Riki's breathing.

-

The next few days established a strange new routine. You taught Defense Against the Dark Arts by day, gradually growing more comfortable as muscle memory and your future self's excellent notes guided you. Your colleagues clearly respected you—Professor Flitwick even mentioned your recent paper on practical defensive applications of Charms work published in Transfiguration Today.

Riki adapted to Auror work with surprising skill, his natural talent for thinking outside conventional boundaries apparently serving him well in investigating magical smuggling operations. He returned home each evening with increasingly fewer looks of panic and more stories of actual accomplishment.

The children attended Little Sorcerers, a magical daycare in Hogsmeade run by a cheerful witch named Penny Clearwater who had apparently been a few years ahead of you at Hogwarts. Suki was in the "Developing Wands" group for magical children showing early signs of ability, while Sara stayed in the "Baby Beasts" room.

Domestic life fell into place with unexpected ease. You discovered household charms you'd never known, apparently perfected by your future self. Riki, much to your surprise, was an excellent cook—another skill his future self had developed.

"My mother always said cooking is just like potions, but with less chance of explosion," he explained one evening as he expertly charmed knives to chop vegetables. "Usually less chance, anyway."

One week into your strange displacement, you were sitting at the kitchen table grading essays while Riki played with the girls in the living room. His patient voice floated through the doorway as he explained, for what must have been the thousandth time, why Sara couldn't ride the toy broomstick Suki had received for her birthday.

"Because she's too little, Suki. Remember when you were her age and tried to ride Uncle Jake's broom? What happened?"

"I falled in rosebushes," Suki recited reluctantly. "And needed ouchie potion."

"Exactly. So Sara needs to wait until she's bigger, just like you did."

You found yourself smiling at the exchange. The Riki you knew from Hogwarts had never shown this kind of patience. But then, you'd never really looked for it either, had you? You'd been so busy competing, bickering, retaliating for pranks, that you'd never considered there might be more to him.

Later that night, after the children were asleep, you found yourself lingering in the study, examining framed certificates and photographs. Your teaching credentials from a specialized Defense mastery program. Riki's Auror certification, with honors. A joint commendation from the Ministry for some collaborative project.

Riki found you there, two mugs of tea in hand. He offered one silently, and you accepted with a nod of thanks.

"Strange to see what we become," he said finally, examining a photo of you both at what appeared to be a Ministry function.

"Not what I expected," you admitted.

"No?"

You gestured around the study. "Look at all this. Professional success. Academic recognition. A home, a family..." You trailed off, not quite able to complete the thought.

Riki did it for you. "Everything we secretly wanted but were too proud to admit?"

You looked at him sharply. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged, suddenly looking vulnerable in a way the seventeen-year-old Riki never would have allowed. "I never hated you, you know. I was just..."

"Competitive?" you supplied.

"Immature," he corrected with a rueful smile. "And maybe a little intimidated. You always knew exactly what you wanted and how to get it. I just knew what I didn't want—to follow my father into the diplomatic service, to be serious all the time."

"So you became the class clown instead?"

"I became whatever would get a reaction." His honesty surprised you. "Especially from you."

You weren't ready for this conversation—this glimpse beneath the surface of your carefully maintained animosity. So you deflected.

"Well, apparently it worked out for both of us." You gestured to the evidence of your successful careers. "Though I still can't believe I married someone who once enchanted my hair to glow in the dark during exams."

"In my defense, you looked incredible. Like a vengeful goddess."

Despite yourself, you laughed. "I was so furious. I couldn't figure out how to counter it for three days."

"I know." His smile turned reminiscent. "McGonagall finally took pity on you. But not before I got to admire my handiwork for half a week."

The ease between you was new and unsettling. It felt like a betrayal of your properly antagonistic relationship, yet it also felt... right. As if your bodies remembered a friendship—and more—that your minds hadn't yet experienced.

"We should sleep," you said abruptly, uncomfortable with the direction of your thoughts. "Early classes tomorrow."

Riki nodded, the moment broken. "Right. Of course."

You both headed to the bedroom, maintaining the pretense of the pillow barrier even though Suki had demolished it the past three nights in a row, inevitably climbing into your bed with complaints of monsters, bad dreams, or simply "missing Mama and Dada."

But as you lay in the darkness, listening to Riki's breathing slow on the other side of the useless barrier, you couldn't help wondering: If this was your future—a respected career, beautiful children, and an unexpectedly supportive partner—was it really something you wanted to undo?

The thought followed you into dreams where seventeen-year-old Riki laughed as he turned your hair pink, but adult Riki smiled as he helped you wash it out, his fingers gentle against your scalp and his eyes holding something you weren't ready to name.

-

Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains as you carefully extracted yourself from the bed, trying not to disturb Riki. Over the past ten days, you'd fallen into an uneasy routine—you rose early to prepare for your classes while he handled the nighttime wake-ups with Sara, who still wasn't sleeping through the night.

Today you had a particularly early staff meeting to review the upcoming O.W.L. practical examinations. You gathered your teaching robes and had just started toward the bathroom when a loud chiming sound filled the room.

A glowing orb materialized above the dresser—something like a remembrall but larger and pulsing with magical energy. You approached it cautiously, poking it with your wand.

The orb expanded, revealing the face of a woman you didn't recognize—though she clearly knew you, judging by her broad smile.

"Fucking finally! I've been trying to reach you since yesterday!" the woman exclaimed. Her curly hair was piled haphazardly atop her head, and she appeared to be wearing pajamas. "Did you get my message about Friday? Because Marcus is taking the kids to his mother's, and I'm desperate for a girls' night."

You froze, desperately trying to place her. This must be a friend of your future self—possibly your best friend, given her casual manner.

"I, um—" you stammered.

"Oh shit, did I wake you? What time is it there?" She squinted, then gasped dramatically. "Is that Riki in bed behind you? Sorry! Although..." her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, "since I've got you both, I might as well ask. That thing you mentioned last month? The tongue thing?"

Your face burned as you realized what kind of "thing" she was referring to.

"I tried it with Marcus but I must be doing something wrong because he just looked confused, and honestly, after three kids you'd think I'd have figured out how to keep things interesting," she continued, seemingly oblivious to your discomfort. "But you always seem to have Riki thoroughly fucked—he practically glows every time I see him—so clearly you're doing something right."

You heard a muffled sound from the bed and glanced back to see Riki stirring, his eyes opening with confusion that quickly transformed to interest as he caught snippets of the conversation.

"I mean," your friend continued, lowering her voice even more, "last time we talked, you said it was all about the pattern you use with your tongue and how you have to maintain eye contact the whole time? And something about using a specific angle? I tried but Marcus kept laughing and saying it tickled."

Riki's eyebrows shot up, and he propped himself on his elbows, now fully awake and listening intently.

"And then you mentioned that thing with the ice cube beforehand? Did you mean like directly on his—"

"I REALLY need to go," you interrupted desperately, but your friend was on a roll.

"—because that seemed extreme, but then again, your sex life is legendary. Remember at New Year's when you two disappeared for an hour and came back looking like you'd been mauled by something? And Riki couldn't stop smirking for the rest of the night? Merlin's balls, whatever you did to him must have been spectacular."

At this point, Riki had both hands clamped over his mouth, his entire body shaking with barely contained laughter.

"Anyway," your friend continued, blissfully unaware of the chaos she was causing, "I just need a refresher. When you grip his thighs, is it more about the pressure or the—"

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE!" you finally shouted, frantically tapping the orb, trying to end the call. "I'M ABOUT TO BE LATE FOR A MEETING!"

"Oh! Sorry!" she said, finally noticing your distress. "But just quickly—that position you mentioned, the one where you—"

"SILENCIO!" you bellowed, finally succeeding in muting her. But the call continued, her lips moving silently as she enthusiastically mimed what appeared to be a particularly athletic maneuver.

Behind you, Riki had lost his battle with composure. He was now howling with laughter, rolling on the bed and clutching his stomach.

"Holy shit," he gasped between fits of hysterical laughter. "Eye contact the whole time? Ice cubes? What the fuck do our future selves get up to?"

You finally located the deactivation rune and jabbed it violently. The orb vanished with a small pop, leaving mortified silence in its wake.

Well, silence except for Riki's continued uncontrollable laughter.

"I will hex you into next week," you threatened, your face burning hot enough to fry an egg.

"The fucking tongue thing!" he wheezed, tears streaming down his face. "And apparently I get 'thoroughly mauled' at New Year's? No wonder future-me always looks so damn pleased with himself!"

"Would you SHUT UP?" you hissed, grabbing a pillow and launching it at his head.

He caught it mid-air, his Quidditch reflexes intact even as he gasped for breath between laughs. "I can't—I can't breathe—"

"Good! Die, then!"

"Aww, don't be embarrassed," he teased, finally regaining some control. "Obviously our future selves enjoy fucking each other. We have two tiny munchkins as proof of that." He gestured toward the nursery with a grin. "Concrete evidence of at least two very successful encounters."

"This isn't funny, you absolute ass!" But your embarrassment was being overtaken by reluctant amusement at the absurdity of the situation.

"It's extremely funny," he countered, sitting up and wiping tears from his eyes. "Your face when she started mimicking that position—"

You launched yourself across the bed, determined to silence him before he could continue. Your hand clamped over his mouth as you landed half on top of him, using your body weight to pin him down.

"Not. Another. Goddamn. Word." You glared down at him, trying to look intimidating despite your undoubtedly bright red face.

His eyes crinkled at the corners, amusement evident even with his mouth covered. But then something shifted in his gaze—the laughter fading into something warmer, more intense. You suddenly became acutely aware of your position: straddling his lap, one hand over his mouth, your faces inches apart.

His breath was warm against your palm. You should move. You should definitely move. But your body seemed frozen, caught in the magnetic pull of his gaze.

Slowly, deliberately, he reached up and wrapped his fingers around your wrist, gently pulling your hand away from his mouth. The casual strength in his grip sent an unexpected shiver down your spine.

"Is this how you keep me thoroughly fucked and satisfied?" he murmured, voice pitched low in a way you'd never heard from seventeen-year-old Riki. "Pinning me down until I submit?"

Your breath caught. The air between you felt charged, crackling with a tension that had nothing to do with your usual animosity.

"I—" Whatever you might have said was lost as a piercing wail erupted from the nursery monitor on the nightstand.

"DAAAAADAAAA!" Sara's voice shattered the moment. "UP! UP NOW!"

Riki closed his eyes briefly, a mixture of frustration and resignation crossing his features. "Fuck. Perfect timing, as always," he muttered.

You scrambled off him, nearly falling in your haste to put distance between your bodies. "I should—shower. Meeting. Early."

Eloquence had apparently abandoned you entirely.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. "I'll check on Sara."

"Right. Good. Yes." You edged toward the bathroom, clutching your teaching robes like a shield.

At the door, he paused, throwing you a look over his shoulder. "You know we're going to have to continue this conversation eventually."

"What conversation?" you asked, aiming for innocent and missing by several miles.

His smile was slow and knowing. "The one about all the ways our future selves apparently enjoy fucking each other. And maybe that tongue thing. Seems like valuable information we shouldn't waste."

With that parting shot, he left to tend to Sara, leaving you leaning weakly against the bathroom door, your heart racing and your mind filled with images you had no business imagining.

-

You'd just finished putting Sara down for her nap when the distinct crack of apparition sounded from the front garden. Wand instantly in hand—a reflex from your Defense teaching—you moved cautiously toward the window.

A petite Japanese woman in elegant midnight-blue robes stood at your gate, a large ornate box floating beside her. Her hair was pulled into a sleek knot at the nape of her neck, and though she must have been in her fifties, she had the posture of someone half her age.

"Riki!" you called, recognizing her from the family photos. "Your mother's here!"

There was a crash from the kitchen, followed by a string of muffled curses.

"My WHAT?" he hissed, appearing in the doorway with a look of undisguised panic. "Why? Did you know she was coming?"

"How would I know that?" you whispered back frantically.

"You're the one who's apparently been married to me for years! Don't you have a schedule or something?"

Before you could argue further, an imperious knock sounded at the door. You both froze like guilty first-years caught out after curfew.

Suki, oblivious to your distress, came barreling down the hall. "GRANDMA!" she squealed, reaching for the doorknob before either of you could stop her.

The door swung open to reveal Riki's mother, her stern expression instantly transforming into a warm smile at the sight of her granddaughter.

"Suki!" she exclaimed, setting down her floating package to sweep the child into her arms. "Have you been practicing your Japanese?"

"Hai, Grandma!" Suki replied proudly.

"Good girl." She kissed Suki's forehead before setting her down, then turned her attention to you and Riki, who was hovering awkwardly behind you.

"Darling," she greeted you with unexpected warmth, moving forward to embrace you. "You look tired. Is my son helping enough with the children?" She didn't wait for an answer before turning to Riki. "Riki! Your hair is a mess. Are you still sleeping until noon? You have responsibilities now!"

Without warning, she reached up and slapped the back of his head—a feat requiring her to almost stand on tiptoe, given the height difference.

"Mom!" Riki protested, rubbing his head. "It's good to see you too."

"Is it? When was the last time you visited?" She grabbed his ear and tugged, pulling his head down to her level. "Do I need to remind you of the importance of family?"

You bit your lip, trying desperately not to laugh at the sight of fully-grown Auror Riki being treated like a naughty schoolboy. The look of helpless resignation on his face suggested this was a regular occurrence.

"We've been busy with work, Mom," you intervened, taking pity on him. "Please, come in. Would you like some tea?"

She released Riki's ear and beamed at you. "Always so polite. This one knows how to show respect, Riki. You should learn from your wife."

"Yes, Mom," Riki muttered, rubbing his ear.

"Grandma bring presents?" Suki asked hopefully, eyeing the box that had resumed floating beside her grandmother.

"Just one special delivery today," Hana replied, guiding the box into the living room with a flick of her wand. "For your parents."

You led everyone into the kitchen, where you busied yourself preparing tea. Riki, clearly trying to behave, pulled out a chair for his mother.

"Such good manners," Hana observed with mock surprise. "Did your wife teach you that, too?"

"Mom..." Riki began with a long-suffering sigh.

"I'm teasing, Riki," she said, but slapped his arm anyway. "Mostly."

You placed a teacup in front of her, grateful that your future self apparently knew how she took her tea.

"Now," Hana said after taking a delicate sip, "about the item you asked me to find."

You exchanged a quick glance with Riki, neither of you having any idea what she was referring to.

"I've brought it, just as promised," she continued. "Though why you couldn't have asked for it during your visit last month instead of by owl, I don't understand."

"Work has been... unpredictable," you improvised, hoping it was a plausible excuse.

Hana made a dismissive gesture. "Always work with you two. But I suppose that's why you're both so successful." There was genuine pride in her voice, despite her criticisms.

"Suki," she said, turning to her granddaughter who was attempting to climb onto Riki's lap, "would you show me your new drawings? The ones you told Grandma about in your message?"

Suki nodded eagerly. "In my room! I drawed a dragon eating ice cream!"

"Drew, Baby," Riki corrected automatically.

"That's what I said, Daddy," Suki replied with the confidence of a child who could never be wrong. She took her grandmother's hand and began tugging her toward the stairs.

"I'll just be a few minutes," Hana said, allowing herself to be led away. "Riki, make yourself useful and start dinner. Your wife works all day teaching those hopeless children to defend themselves. The least you can do is feed her properly."

"Yes, Mom," Riki replied with practiced patience.

The moment they disappeared upstairs, he turned to you. "What the hell is going on? What did you apparently ask her for?"

"How should I know?" you whispered back. "Maybe it's in that box she brought?"

You both turned to look at the ornate package still floating in the living room. It was wrapped in deep blue silk with silver constellations that actually twinkled and shifted across the fabric.

"Whatever it is, it's fancy," Riki observed. "And apparently important."

"We can't open it until we know what it is," you said reasonably. "Your mother might expect a specific reaction."

"I haven't seen her this... pleasant... in years," Riki admitted. "Usually there's at least twenty minutes of criticism before she even considers smiling."

"She seems quite fond of me," you couldn't help noting with a slight smirk.

"Of course she is," Riki grumbled. "You're exactly the type of person she wanted me to be—studious, responsible, organized. You probably color-code your lesson plans."

"I do not!" you protested, then caught yourself. "Well, future-me might, but that's beside the point."

Before you could continue, Hana reappeared, sans Suki. "She's showing Sara her drawings now," she explained. "That child could talk for England in the Olympics."

"Wonder where she gets that from," you said, giving Riki a pointed look.

Hana laughed. "Exactly what I was thinking." She moved to the box and gestured for you to join her. "Come, I'll show you what I found. Riki, start the rice. The women are talking."

Riki rolled his eyes but obediently moved to the kitchen, muttering something about "impossible women ganging up on him."

Hana drew you to the far side of the living room, lowering her voice. "I wanted to give this to you privately first," she said, untying the silk wrapping. "So you can decide how to present it to him for your anniversary."

Anniversary? Your heart rate picked up. Exactly how close was this supposedly important date?

The silk fell away, revealing a carved wooden box with the Nishimura family crest inlaid in mother-of-pearl. Hana opened it carefully to reveal a stunning platinum pocket watch nestled in velvet.

"It belonged to his grandfather," she explained, lifting it gently. "Riki adored it as a child. Used to beg to hold it, would sit for hours watching the constellation dial shift with the seasons."

She opened the watch's case, revealing an exquisitely detailed night sky in miniature, with tiny stars that glittered and moved in real-time. The craftsmanship was breathtaking.

"His grandfather promised it to him when he became a man worthy of it," Hana continued, a soft smile playing at her lips. "But he passed before Riki finished Hogwarts."

She pressed the watch into your hands. "When you wrote asking if I still had it—if I would consider letting you give it to him for your fifth anniversary—I admit I cried. You understand my son in ways I never could."

Fifth anniversary. The words echoed in your mind. You and Riki had been married for five years in this timeline.

"I..." you began, genuinely moved by both the gift and the sentiment behind it.

"No need for words," Hana said, patting your hand. "I know you'll present it perfectly. Just promise me you'll take a photograph of his face when he sees it."

"I promise," you said sincerely, carefully returning the watch to its case.

"Good. Now hide it away before he—"

"Before I what?" Riki asked, returning from the kitchen with a dish towel over his shoulder.

Hana moved with surprising speed, snatching the box and thrusting it behind you. "Before you stick your nose where it doesn't belong!" she scolded, reaching up to tug his ear again. "Honestly, Riki, eavesdropping at your age!"

"I wasn't—" he protested, bending awkwardly to accommodate her grip on his ear. "Mom, please!"

"Go back to the kitchen," she commanded. "The rice will burn."

"It's in a spelled pot, it can't burn," he argued.

She released his ear only to slap the back of his head again. "Don't contradict your mother. Go. Shoo."

Riki shot you a pleading look, but you merely shrugged, hiding your amusement poorly. He slouched back to the kitchen, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "traitor."

Once he was out of earshot, Hana handed you the box again. "Hide this somewhere he won't look. Do you have such a place?"

You thought quickly. "My lesson plan cabinet. He'd rather face a Hungarian Horntail than look through teaching materials."

Hana nodded approvingly. "Smart girl. This is why I always said you were too good for him."

"I don't know about that," you said, surprising yourself with the sincerity in your voice.

Hana's expression softened. "Neither does he. That's what makes you perfect together." She straightened her robes briskly. "Now, I should supervise his cooking before he ruins dinner. His father was the same way—brilliant man, hopeless with domestic spells."

As she marched toward the kitchen, you heard her exclaim, "Riki! What are you doing to those poor vegetables? Here, let me show you again..."

You slipped the box into your teaching bag, mind reeling. Five years of marriage. A thoughtful anniversary gift that Riki would apparently treasure. A mother-in-law who clearly adored you and whom you called "Mom" with ease.

This life—this future—kept revealing layers that made it harder and harder to dismiss as a nightmare or a prank gone wrong. Because parts of it, if you were being honest with yourself, didn't feel wrong at all.

They felt alarmingly, confusingly right.

From the kitchen came the sound of Riki's protests, followed by his mother's firm instructions and what sounded like another light slap. Despite everything—your displacement in time, your confusion about your feelings, the lingering embarrassment from this morning's call—you found yourself smiling.

Some things, apparently, never changed. Even in a future where everything else had.

-

Two days after Hana's visit, you were grading essays in the study when the fireplace flared green. Instinctively, you reached for your wand, still not entirely comfortable with the casual magical security of your future home.A man's head appeared in the flames—mid-thirties, with an easy smile and close-cropped hair. "Riki! You home, mate?" he called.

You hesitated, unsure how to respond. Thankfully, Riki appeared from the kitchen, and you were surprised to see genuine delight spreading across his face.

"Jake!" He rushed to the fireplace, the dish towel in his hands forgotten. "Merlin, it's good to see you."

The relief in his voice was palpable—this wasn't just recognition of someone from this future timeline, but someone he genuinely knew.

"Good to see me? You saw me three days ago at the office," Jake's floating head laughed. "Listen, just checking about tomorrow night. Seera's been on my case all week about what time you two are arriving."

Riki blinked, momentarily thrown. "Tomorrow night?"

Jake's expression turned exasperated. "The department dinner? Don't tell me you forgot. You RSVPed weeks ago."

"Right. The department dinner," Riki repeated, shooting you a panicked glance.

"Unbelievable," Jake said, but his tone was affectionate rather than annoyed. "I've been reminding you about deadlines since you were nine, and you still forget. Good thing I called. Seera would hex me into next week if you two didn't show—she's been looking forward to catching up with the professor here." He nodded in your direction.

You gave a small wave, noting how Riki seemed to relax into the familiar dynamic with Jake.

"It's just..." Riki began, running a hand through his hair, "with the children and everything—"

"Don't even start," Jake cut him off. "You already arranged for Molly Weasley to watch the girls. You told me yourself last week. Said it was your anniversary gift to yourselves—an evening without sticky fingers and bedtime tantrums."

Your eyes met Riki's, a silent message passing between you. He looked both relieved to be talking to someone from his past and confused by the new information.

"Right," Riki said, recovering his composure. "Sorry, just a long week. What time is it again?"

"Seven for drinks, dinner at eight," Jake replied. "At Theodesia's in Diagon Alley. The private room upstairs." He paused, then added with a knowing smirk, "Formal dress. You know how the boss loves any excuse for everyone to get fancy."

"Great," Riki said with more genuine enthusiasm now. "Looking forward to it."

"You'd better be. Seera's been practicing her speech all week." Jake winked. "She's determined to toast the department's most disgustingly perfect couple on their anniversary milestone."

"Our... right." Riki's hand went back to his hair—a nervous tell you'd noticed over the past weeks. "Wouldn't miss it."

"Excellent! See you both tomorrow, then," Jake said. His head started to withdraw, then popped back. "Oh, and Riki? Wear the blue dress robes. Your wife once told Seera they make your ass look fantastic."

With that parting shot and a laugh, he disappeared, leaving the fireplace ordinary once more.

Riki stared at the empty fireplace for a moment, a complicated mix of emotions crossing his face.

"You know him," you said, not a question but an observation. "From before all this."

"Jake Sim," Riki nodded, sinking onto the sofa beside you. "He lived down the street from us when I was a kid. Seven years older than me, but he always let me tag along when his friends played Quidditch. Taught me how to fly, actually." His voice softened with fondness. "Kind of the big brother I never had."

"That must be nice," you said carefully. "Having someone familiar in all this strangeness."

"It is," he admitted. "Weird to see him so much older, though." He glanced at you. "Apparently he works in the Auror department with me. That explains a lot—he always said he wanted to be an Auror."

"So," you said, returning to practicalities, "department dinner tomorrow."

"Apparently." Riki looked less panicked now, almost reassured by the connection to his past. "Formal. With at least one person I actually know."

"And a toast to our anniversary." You groaned. "Perfect."

"Let me check the details," Riki said, summoning his work organizer from his bag and flipping through to tomorrow's date. "Here it is. 'Annual Auror Division Recognition Dinner. Special achievement acknowledgments.' And in smaller writing: 'Jake and Seera Sim confirmed, Table 3.'"

"Recognition dinner? Is your future self getting an award or something?"

"I have no idea." Riki looked genuinely alarmed by the possibility. "I'm still trying to figure out where to find case files in my office."

You rubbed your temples, feeling a headache forming. "So now we have to attend a formal dinner with people who know us—our future selves—well enough to comment on how your ass looks in dress robes, make anniversary toasts, and possibly present you with some kind of award."

"Don't forget we apparently arranged childcare with Molly Weasley," Riki added. "Whom neither of us has spoken to in this timeline."

"Shit." You dropped your head into your hands. "This is getting more complicated by the day."

Riki was quiet for a moment, then said thoughtfully, "Maybe we should look at this as an opportunity."

You raised your head. "An opportunity for what? Public humiliation?"

"Information gathering," he corrected, looking more confident than he had in days. "Jake knows me—the real me. And he obviously knows our future selves well too. He might be able to help us understand how we ended up... here." He gestured vaguely between you. "Plus, if this is some kind of work event, I might learn more about what my job actually entails."

He had a point. And if you were honest with yourself, you were a bit curious about your social circle in this future life—especially this childhood friend who had clearly remained important to Riki into adulthood.

"Fine," you conceded. "But we need a strategy. Signals if one of us is getting into conversational quicksand."

"I'll step on your foot if you start heading into dangerous territory," Riki suggested.

"And I'll spill my drink on you if you do the same."

"Seems fair," he agreed, then glanced at the clock. "Should we... call Molly? Confirm the childcare arrangement?"

"As much as I'm dreading it, probably," you admitted. "We also need to figure out what to wear to this thing."

Riki stood up. "I'll check the wardrobe for the allegedly ass-flattering blue robes. You handle Molly."

"Why do I get the hard job?" you protested.

"Because she already loves you, Professor," he said with a grin. "Everyone does, apparently."

You threw a quill at him, which he dodged easily as he headed upstairs.

After an awkward but ultimately successful Floo call to Molly Weasley—who indeed seemed already aware of your childcare needs and waved off your attempts to confirm details with a cheerful "Of course, dear, just bring them over before six like usual"—you headed upstairs to assess your own formal wear options.

The master bedroom closet revealed an impressive collection of teaching robes interspersed with more formal attire. Near the back, you found several elegant dress robes and gowns that your seventeen-year-old self would never have imagined owning.

You were examining a particularly stunning deep green gown when Riki emerged from the bathroom, holding up a set of formal midnight-blue dress robes with silver embroidery along the cuffs and collar.

"Found them," he announced. "Think these are the ones that make my ass look fantastic?"

"I wouldn't know," you said primly. "I've never made a habit of assessing that particular feature."

"Liar," he said with a smirk. "I've caught you looking."

"I have not—" you began, then stopped at his triumphant expression. "You're just trying to get a rise out of me!"

"And succeeding." He grinned, then nodded at the green gown in your hands. "That one. It's phenomenal."

You glanced down at the gown, surprised by his comment. "You think?"

"I know." His voice had lost its teasing edge. "You wore something similar to the Yule Ball in fourth year. I remembered thinking..." He trailed off, suddenly looking uncomfortable.

"Thinking what?" you prompted, curious despite yourself.

"Nothing important." He focused intently on his dress robes, inspecting them for non-existent lint. "Just that you looked... nice."

The admission hung in the air between you, unexpectedly weighty. You'd gone to the Yule Ball with a Ravenclaw boy whose name you barely remembered now. You hadn't even realized Riki had noticed you that night.

"Well," you said, trying to sound casual, "I suppose this will do, then."

"We should probably practice," Riki said abruptly.

"Practice what?"

"Acting like... you know. A couple." His cheeks had colored slightly. "If these people know us well, they'll expect certain behaviors. Interactions."

"Like what?" You weren't sure if the flutter in your stomach was anxiety or something else.

"I don't know, exactly. But probably more than the awkward distance we've been maintaining." He gestured between you. "People who've been married for five years don't flinch when they accidentally brush hands passing the salt."

He had a point, loath as you were to admit it. Your attempts at playing happy couple in front of the children were unconvincing enough; fooling adults who knew you well would be even harder.

"What did you have in mind?" you asked cautiously.

"Just... getting more comfortable. Small things." He stepped closer, tentatively reaching for your hand. "May I?"

Your heart stuttered as you nodded, allowing him to take your hand in his. His fingers were warm, slightly calloused—Auror training, perhaps, or years of Quidditch.

"See? Not so terrible." His voice had dropped to a lower register that sent an unexpected shiver through you.

"I suppose not," you managed.

He took another half step closer. "At an event like this, I might... put my arm around you." Slowly, telegraphing his movements, he released your hand and slid his arm around your waist.

You tensed briefly, then made yourself relax into the contact. It felt strange—Nishimura Riki touching you without it being part of some prank or competition—but not unpleasant.

"And you might lean into me a little," he suggested. "Like it's natural."

Hesitantly, you shifted your weight, allowing your body to rest slightly against his. He was solid, warm, his familiar scent—sandalwood and something uniquely him—enveloping you.

"Better," he murmured. "Almost convincing."

You looked up, intending to make some sarcastic remark, but the words died in your throat. His face was much closer than you'd realized, his dark eyes studying you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

"People might expect us to..." he began, then paused. "That is, married couples usually..."

"Usually what?" you whispered, though you knew perfectly well what he meant.

His gaze dropped briefly to your lips, then back to your eyes. "Dance," he finished, stepping back abruptly and breaking the moment. "We should practice dancing. For tomorrow."

"Right," you said, ignoring the confusing pang of disappointment. "Dancing. Good idea."

"I'll, um, let you finish looking through your options," he said, backing toward the door with his blue robes still clutched in one hand. "Need to check on the girls anyway."

He disappeared down the hall, leaving you alone with a racing heart and the lingering sensation of his arm around your waist.

You turned back to the closet, fingers brushing against the green fabric of the gown. A formal dinner with colleagues who knew your future selves intimately. An anniversary toast. And Riki in robes specifically noted for how well they fit him.

Tomorrow night promised to be interesting, to say the least.

part 2

TL: @ziiao @seonhoon @beariegyu @somuchdard @ddolleri @zzhengyu @annybah @elairah @dreamy-carat @geniejunn @kristynaaah @zoemeltigloos @mellowgalaxystrawberry @inlovewithningning @vveebee @m3wkledreamy @lovelycassy @highway-143 @koizekomi @tiny-shiny @simbabyikeu @cristy-101 @bloomiize @dearestdreamies @enhaverse713586 @cybe4ss @starniras @wonuziex @sol3chu @simj4k3 @jakewonist @azzy02 @addictedtohobi @cherrybeomm @urmomdotcom5678 @jaeyunsbimbo @yongbokified @changbinniescurlyhair @en-whims

[tomsparkyr]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝟏!

following episode six of 'inside' — george clarke x fem!reader

by any means i do not own 'inside' and all credit is theirs (!!)

(I’M SO SORRY IN ADVANCE my little heart needed to have some angst but to make it up to you im extending this series to their lives outside of inside!! it will involve you in george’s stream and videos; insta au, twitter au, etc etc too)

(lowk took my anger about the chelsea v ipswich game out on this so apologies😭)

(also also also !! any requests put in will happen i promise once i finish this series bc im in love with the ideas you’re putting in so it’ll only be a matter of time xx)

wc: 8.3K

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“PK, we’ll start with you. Please make your way down to Room 19.” Vik ordered as you all sat in your previous seats.

You turned to Milli, “This can’t be happening right now…” You whispered, watching her face blank and attention directed to the floor as she chewed on her lip. She feared the worst after being awarded the winner of the talent show, a target placed on her back at the worst time possible.

You reached your hand out to hold hers in comfort as George had his arm slung over your shoulder, leaning into his chest as your knee bounced up and down in nervousness. George pressed a soft kiss against your head, “You’re alright.” He murmured against your temple.

Once you were called over to vote someone to be eliminated, you sighed and stood up from your seat, glancing over at George and Milli one more time, shooting them a sweet smile.

Entering Room 19, you settled yourself down on the comfy sofa and crossed your legs, fiddling with your fingers as you debated your answer. “You guys are such dicks, you know that.” You pointed at the camera for starters.

“I’m going with this person because I feel like their alliance is strong and if you really want to win this game, you have to break them up… as mean as that sounds.” You cringed at your words. 

“Also, I’m convinced this person will most likely vote for me so I’ve gotta back my chances of not getting voted out. So with that, I’m voting for Whitney.” You nodded awkwardly at the camera. 

The crew inside Room 19 told you it was a good enough answer and requested you return to the living room. In doing so, you trudged back with a sigh and a sick feeling swirling in your stomach.

It was pretty obvious from previous encounters that people in the house were out to get you, so your chances of being voted out in this scenario were quite high, as much as you didn’t want to admit it. You knew you had people who wouldn’t vote for you, but the alliances were stacked against you.

You entered the room and fell back into your previous position, George greeted you with a soft smile that didn’t reach his eyes, but his arms were out for you to settle in.

“All right, guys. I don’t wanna be doing this.” Vik started, his hands clasped in front of him as he rocked on his feet next to Specs. “We had a lot of fun. I genuinely actually really enjoyed hosting that talent show, but the person eliminated from Inside today is…”

Your legs shook in nervousness and Milli’s head leant itself in your shoulder, neither of you feeling safe in this case. George’s hand intertwined with yours and stared at your side profile, you looking forward with your eyes trained on Vik, mentally begging him not to call your name out.

“Y/N.” Vik announced. 

A couple people gasped and Milli’s jaw dropped next to you, her face painted with guilt and sorrow. George’s hand squeezed yours and you felt his tense up next to you, his eyes closed shut and lip caught between his teeth. You could hear him muttering beside you, “No, no, no.” His cheeks were flushed and he ran his hands through his hair as the consequence of his actions crept up on him.

“And Milli.” Vik announced.

Everyone’s head snapped towards the two who stood up, jaws dropping as Milli’s face paled. “What?” Her voice shook.

“Only one of you will be eliminated.” You threw your head in your hands as you felt the overwhelming pressure and sickening feeling settle in your stomach. Milli shook her head, “No. I’m not…” She peered over at you. “I’ll go.” She gripped your hand.

“Unfortunately, Milli. You can’t decide that… a game of rock-paper-scissors will decide your fate.” Vik reluctantly said, looking at the pair of you distraught on the sofa.

“Fuck.” You heard George curse next to you, his grip not loosening as you sat up and faced your new best friend in here, realising that in this moment, you could lose one of the people you were closest to in here.

You swallowed and looked at Milli who shook her head with a frown etched across her face. You both shared a look of agreement, that neither of you would be mad at the other if you were to go, and that the first thing you would do as soon as you leave this place is contact each other (and tell the other all the gossip they missed, but that was irrelevant right now).

Both of you held your fists out and counted to three, before you held out a scissor motion with your hand. Your heart dropped as you looked down at Milli’s which was held out in a paper motion. 

“Oh my God.” You mumbled and left George’s grip, lunging yourself into a tight hug with Milli, her arms wrapping around you. Milli smiled and shook her head, “Y/N, it’s fine. I’m glad I got out because of you.”

You couldn’t help but feel immense guilt, not that it was your fault in any way, it was pure luck. Milli pulled away from the hug and placed her hands on your shoulders,

“You’re gonna win it, girlie.” She whispered and winked at you, voice low enough so no one else could hear as they all stood up to bid their farewells to Milli.

“Milli, you have ten minutes to collect your things and leave the house. You are eliminated from Inside.” Vik looked down at the floor.

Milli looked behind you and nodded for you to turn around, and in doing so, you made eye contact with George who was now stood up. You looked back at Milli who smiled at you, mentally telling you to seek him out.

You walked over to George with your head hung low, feeling his fingers brush your forearms. “You okay?” He whispered and ducked his head down to try and read your face. He understood from the shake of your head that you weren’t doing alright, and quickly pulled you into a tight hug, his hand placed on the back of your head and hid your face from the rest of the group.

His other hand rubbed up and down your back, guiding the pair of you to follow the group as Milli packed up her things. George brushed a stray hair away from your face and tucked it behind your ear, “Come on, let’s go say goodbye to Milli.” He said as his thumb lingered on your cheek.

Your heart sunk further into your stomach as Milli edged closer to the door, the constant reminder that it was partially your fault, or it could have been you with your suitcases in this moment was in the back of your mind.

“Hey, George, close the door.” Jason laughed as Milli waved from the otherside of the doorway. Milli jokingly shouted, “No!”

George leaned for the handle, “Stay out!” He laughed as he shut the door. As everyone made their way back into the living room, you peered into the glass window of the door and gave Milli one final wave goodbye, her reciprocating it and blowing you a kiss as the elevator doors closed on her.

As you walked back to the group, Cinna slung an arm around your shoulder, “You alright?” You looked at her and nodded slowly, “I will be.” She smiled at you.

“We’re so doing streams together once we’re out of here.” She nudged you with a wide grin on her face. You matched her expression, “Fuck yeah we are.” Cinna clapped and skipped back to the living room, pulling you behind her as your laughter could be heard around the house.

time skip!

You and George sat on the sofa with your feast settled on the cushions next to the pair of you, your back against his chest and his fingers rubbing circles into your skin that was snuck underneath the hem of your shirt.

You felt and heard him laugh behind you, his chest vibrating against you. Tilting your head back, you smiled at him, “What are you laughing at?” You poked at him.

George shook his head, “Nothing.” He shrugged. Not accepting that as a good enough answer, you sat up and turned to face him. “Well, obviously it’s something.” You shuffled towards him.

You watched him sigh and he intertwined his hand with yours. “It’s just funny…” He started but his voice trailed off. “What is?” You asked.

“Us.” He licked his lips. He took your furrowed brows as a sign to carry on, “It’s just ridiculous how we’ve been friends for ages and all it took was us being forced to live together for 5 days that I grew the balls to actually kiss you.”

Your cheeks grew red as you laughed at him, “If that’s how you wanna put it.” You shoved him in the shoulder lightly with your free hand. “It’s true though!” He defended his statement.

Your laughter quietened down and you stared at each other for a moment, “I can’t wait til we get out of here.” He whispered and edged closer to you. You leaned into him slightly, “Why’s that?” A smile crept up on your face.

“Because then we can act like a couple without cameras watching everything we do.” George said as his fingers toyed with yours. You raised a brow, “A couple?” He nodded with a soft smile etched on his face, “I’ll make it offical once we get outta here, don’t you worry about that, darling.” He ran a hand through his hand and grinned as your cheeks grew a shade of red.

“And I can do this without anyone interrupting us.” He leaned in and pressed his lips against yours, a hand finding its way to hold the back of your head and bring your face closer to his.

You smiled into the kiss and rested your hands on his chest, the fabric of his shirt bunched in your fist slightly as George deepened the kiss. 

His other hand left yours and settled on your hip, squeezing it lightly as the sweet kiss continued.

George leaned into you which made you push him back with a laugh, “Not in the feast!” He looked around and saw the pizza resting on the cushion and nodded in acceptance. 

You were lucky that George had pulled away from the kiss as Cinna walked into the room, the remaining Insiders trailing behind her as she waved everyone in, “Attention! Everyone!” She shouted, holding an envelope.

You and George got up and stood around the table with everyone else, “It says, ‘Congratulations Cinna. You’ve successfully completed your mission. You may reveal your mission to the group.’” Cinna read out loud.

“Guys, holy fuck! Today has been shitty.” Cinna flung her head back. You looked to your side to see George munching away on the pizza, barely recognising that Cinna was announcing something. You slapped his bicep with the back of your hand and nodded for him to listen in on Cinna; him responding with a grumbled confusion with his mouth full of food. You shook your head and balanced on your tip-toes to mutter to him, “Just listen and stop making out with the food.”

George coughed a laugh and covered his mouth as it was still stuffed. He swallowed and nudged his foot with yours, “Jealous, babe?” 

You furrowed your brows, “Babe?” Your eyes crinkled as you chuckled, “That’s a new one.” You teased the nickname. 

George just shrugged his shoulders, “Just trying something out.” Cinna sighed with exaggeration, “Lovebirds! Listen in!”

“Anyways, we have a challenge, and the challenge was on me the entire day.” Cinna started. “The challenge was for me to lie and say that I was a traitor for the Sidemen in order to convince all of you that you had to do something, or that you had to keep that secret. You could not tell the other person. Y/N, I’m surprised you didn’t tell George if I’m honest!” She pointed at you from across the table.

You smile sheepishly, “I nearly did,” You gestured with your fingers, “If you hadn’t said today, George would have known by the time we were in bed.” George raised his brows and slung an arm around your shoulder.

Cinna faked a gasp, “You were gonna rat me out to your boyfriend?” George only clicked his fingers, “Fuck yeah she was.” He stuck his tongue out at the American across the table as you waved your hands for Cinna to continue.

“And all day, I’ve been working on this shit so we can save money, and you guys spent £50K on this fucking feast so…” She trailed off. You looked up at George who slowly put the piece of pizza down, “Your greed sickens me.” You whispered to him.

George ignored you and clapped his hands together for Cinna and cheered, everyone else following suit.

time skip!

You and George were led in bed, his arm draped around you as you were fast asleep on your back. George was sitting upright slightly talking to Cinna, you being completely unaware of the conversation going on.

“I’m fully fucking regretting my decision.” George admitted and ran a hand through his hair. “As soon as I… I mean, I regretted it as soon as I came around the corner.” George made an effort not to move so much, not willing to risk you waking up and listening in.

Cinna nodded, “Yeah, I got scared that they were gonna go over who voted for who. And if it was you and you didn’t get voted out, it means that’s why Milli went home.”

George inhaled sharply, “Yeah…” Cinna continued, “Which is what it could have been. I was like, ‘Holy fuck.’”

“That’s why I kept second guessing everything.” George mumbled, his eyes drifting to you asleep in his arms.

Cinna nodded towards your frame, “Are you gonna tell her that you’re feeling like this?” George shook his head, “No, Cinna. I fucked up today.”

The American tilted her head, “What do you mean?” George stared at you, your relaxed features and hair sprawled out on the pillow, looking beautiful in the shirt that belonged to him. 

He sighed and closed his eyes, “No… it’s nothing. Tomorrow is gonna be a whole different day.” 

time skip!

“Rise and shine!” JJ’s voice echoed around the bedroom, causing you to groan and bury your head into George’s bare shoulder. 

Your hands drifted to his back and lightly scratched the skin, “God, I’m never going to get used to that.” You complained about the shrill voice of your dear friend, feeling the urge to shout at him once you leave this house for waking you up in the most painful ways possible.

George sighed as you scratched his skin, “Don’t think the late night helped us, Y/N.” You felt him smirk against your temple. 

You flicked his arm and sat up with the duvet pulled against your chest, “We are not talking about that on television, George.” You mocked him saying your name just as he had done before.

George looked at you as he rolled to lay on his back, “Didn’t object when the shower was cold though--” “George!” You gasped, ushering him to quieten his voice down in the room full of people; not wishing for them to hear the 

late night rendezvous you got up to with George.

He laughed at you and reached for his cap that sat on the floor, placing the item backwards on your head. George patted the hat that sat on top of your bed hair, “Getting all shy the morning after?” He teased you. 

You rolled your eyes and flicked the cap off your head, placing it on George, “You should wear this more often,” You stared at his rugged handsomeness as his mullet poked out the back of the cap, “It suits you.”

George smirked and ran a hand through the hair that was poking out, “Got a crush on me, Y/N?” He laughed. You only sighed and tried to suppress a smile, muttering that you needed to get ready for the day as you left the bed and strolled to the girls sitting at the table.

time skip!

You were led on the sofa, legs propped up on Cinna’s lap as you were curled into the corner of the sofa. You were in a deep chat with Cinna, discussing the night before and what’s left to come, muttering how you missed Milli. “She’s so gonna make fun of me once she sees what I’ve been doing without her.” You laughed.

Cinna smiled at you, “I can’t wait for the edits to appear on my for you page, especially the ship ones!” She winked at George who was sitting next to you but engaged in a different conversation. You grinned, “There better be ones of me to Taylor Swift songs.” 

“Don’t worry, Chris will be on that.” George poked in the conversation, mentioning how his blonde friend back at home was a fan of the artist, hence why you and him went to the Eras Tour together.

Everyone in the room groaned as Tobi rounded the corner, “Hi, Insiders. How are we feeling?” He waved at all of you. You all murmured in response.

“Nervous?” Tobi tilted his head, “Do you guys know how to feel when you see me?” Shaking your head, Tobi smiled at you and continued.

“Insiders, one by one… you’ll be sent down to Room 19, where you will receive further instructions. While you are in this room, there must be zero communication amongst yourselves. If I see anyone break that, £20,000 will instantly be deducted from the prize fund. The first Insider to go down to Room 19 will be Mr. PK Humble.” Tobi said.

The room was suffocated with silence, dread swarming in the pit of your stomach, mentally praying it wouldn’t be the same situation as yesterday; you couldn’t go through all that again.

Once your name was called, you trugged over to Room 19 and sat in the familiar seat, stomach twisting with nerves. You were told the rules, vote for someone you want to eliminate and vote for someone you wish to gain immunity, but they were at risk of elimination.

You groaned, “Oh God, this is tough…” You bit your lip and shook your head, “I would vote George for immunity but I can’t take that risk, I can’t have him up for elimination.” You confessed to the cameras.

Your fingers wound together, “This is gonna sound so horrible.” You tilted your head back to hide the expression your face read, “But I’m going to vote for Whitney again. I’m convinced she doesn’t like me so I’ve gotta protect myself… I don’t know!” You gestured and laughed with nerves.

“And the other person I want to vote for is Mya.” You nodded, “Because I like to think she doesn’t hate me and we’ve bonded since the start, so I would like her to get immunity… and no one else will vote for her so I know she’ll be safe!” You smiled at the camera, pleased with your answer.

As you entered the living room once more, George winked at you as you walked back to your seat. Tobi pointed a finger at you, “Hey! No communicating!” Your eyes widened and looked between him and George, “We didn’t say anything!” You protested.

Tobi squinted his eyes and flickered his gaze between you two, “Fine… consider this a formal warning.” You sighed gratefully and fell back into your seat, legs placed back on Cinna’s lap.

“Insiders, you were each asked to vote for two people. I can now confirm that the most votes were received by… George.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach and your head snapped to face him, seeing him nod slowly in acceptance. You shook your head and your brows furrowed to try and hold back tears, the realisation that it was all over for you and George hitting you so suddenly, “I’m not--”

“And Farah.” Tobi finished.

You swallowed and your heart sank further as you remembered what you had to do yesterday against your best friend. “Meaning you’ve put us in that position again.” Tobi looked down.

George sighed and slowly inched his hand into yours underneath the cushion, fingers intertwining and squeezing your hand, worried he’ll have to let go soon. “Fuck.” He muttered.

“As we learnt yesterday, the person going home will be decided by a game of rock-paper-scissors.” Tobi repeated.

George glanced over at you, seeing you were already looking at him with a solem facial expression. He tilted his head and bit his lip to stop a frown sneaking its way on his face, “Y/N, please don’t.” He mumbled seeing your eyes flood with tears threatening to spill, hand cupping your face, “Don’t worry about me.” You shook your head, not trusting your words.

George leaned in and pressed a kiss to the side of your head as he was asked to stand up at the front, looking over at you one more time, “I’m fine.” He mouthed, but you could read his disappointed face he was trying to hide from everyone else, but you knew him too well.

You breathed out heavily, head resting on Cinna’s shoulder and she slung a comforting arm around your shoulder. Everyone stared as George and Farah nodded at each other, hands held out ready to play.

As soon as Tobi said, “Shoot.” Your eyes were trained on George’s hand, watching it form a fist; quickly switching over to see Farah’s in the form of scissors. You sighed and tilted your head back, listening to everyone else gasp in the room.

“Farah, you have been eliminated.” George immediately pulled her into a hug, obviously feeling at fault for her elimination, similar to how you felt the night before.

You walked over to Farah first, embracing her and flattening out the hair that had tangled on the back of her head, “I’m gonna miss you.” You reassured her, Farah’s smile filled with tears the only response she gave you, too overwhelmed to formulate a proper response, one in which you respected.

Watching Farah leave the room with everyone else, you looked behind you and saw George standing awkwardly to the side with his hands bunched in his jogger pockets.

You swallowed, “Don’t scare me like that.” You told him, breathing out as you felt tears well in your eyes as everything became all too overstimulating at the moment. Within less than 12 hours, you and George were one vote away from your bags void of this room and bed’s empty as if you were never even there.

George wrapped his arms around your waist, swaying the pair of you back and forth. You were still shaken about how you and George had nearly been sent home, and the fact that you had lost some of the people you were closest with in this house.

George’s hand stroked the back of your head, “That was fucking awful.” You mumbled tearfully into his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat to calm yourself down. “It’s alright, it’s alright.” He whispered into your hair, repeatedly pressing kisses on your forehead to sooth you.

You pulled yourself back from his chest, still leaning against him as you tilted your head up to look at him. “Who did you vote for? Both times.” You whispered, hand fiddling with his top as he stroked loose hairs back from your face, wanting to capture your beauty more.

George held your face in his hand, pausing before saying, “Whitney.” You nodded and tried to hold back your tears for the second wave. Your lips trembled as your voice broke, “Me too.”

George pressed his forehead against yours, “If you leave, I’ll leave too.” 

Tears started running down your face again, George tugged you into his arms more securely. “I’m so sorry.” He mumbled into your hair. 

You chose to ignore his apology, seeing as it wasn’t relevant, it was never his fault you two were both forced into these situations. You only pulled him into the hug tighter, his reassuring words going deaf to your ears; just one more day and you’ll be leaving this house, with or without the money, but definitely with George.

time skip!

“Foam dart blaster! We could all get Nerf guns and have a Nerf gunfight!” George exclaimed, joy written all over his face as he shook your shoulders from behind, reading out the items from the shop.

You gasped as you read the list, matching George’s excitement. “We could team up!” You twisted to face him, raising both your hands to high five him. He grabbed your hands and jumped up and down with you, both of you squealing like kids.

DDG confirmed one dart blaster to double check what they were like and when the item emerged from the shop, everyone gasped and tried to reach for it. “Oh my God!” George’s grin grew wider. DDG pointed at George, “Get five more.”

Cinna counted out the rest of the people as George stood up to the camera, “I’d like to confirm seven dart blasters.” He smiled at the camera.

The door opened to reveal all the dart blasters, everyone reaching for one. “Look at the state of these things!” George gasped and dragged you over, holding your hand. “Damn! Fuck dinner. Let’s go eat this.” He admired the blasters, passing one to you.

You turned to Cinna, “He’s actually gonna pick a dart blaster over me.” Shaking your head and pointing at George as he cradled the weapons. He nodded at you with raised brows, “You’ve been replaced, I’m sharing the bed with these tonight.” 

Cinna laughed at your blank facial expression, you looking at the camera to check if you had heard George correctly.

After some time, you sat at the table with Mya, chatting about life and what you’re going to do with the money if you win it. Your conversation was interrupted as George tapped you on the shoulder, “Come with me.” He winked, your eyes glancing down at the gun slung over his shoulder.

You grabbed yours off the table and rounded the corner to see Cinna and PK led on the floor as if they had been shot, “Say hello to my little friend!” George reenacted and started shooting at the pair, you laughed and joined in, aiming for Cinna who didn’t realise there were two of you.

“What the fuck!” Cinna gasped and sat up, picking up her gun and aiming for you, getting a good few shots in. PK rolled around on the floor, you unable to hold your laughter in when George started yelling. 

Cinna managed to aim perfectly and hit you straight in the head, “Oh! Headshot!” She yelled out in excitement and cheered. You pretended to fall back and slide down the wall, playing the part as if you died, yet George hadn’t noticed and continued shooting.

You kicked George’s shin, “George! I’m literally dead!” Cinna burst out laughing. “What?” George yelled back but didn’t spare you a glance, still shooting PK.

“George, I shot your girlfriend!” Cinna pointed at your body on the floor. George furrowed his brows and looked down at you. He dropped his gun and dramatically yelled, “No!” He knelt down to reach your level. 

He was about to perform a full monologue mourning your death, but you couldn’t hold in your laughter and you leaned forward to rest your head on George’s shoulder. 

You nodded towards his gun behind him, “You went fully sexy Nathan Drake then.” You winked at him and he laughed as your niche reference. “Only you would say that.” He shook his head and offered his hands out to help you up off the floor, which you accepted.

time skip!

“Let’s recreate scenes!” PK had suggested, prompting all of you to reenact the moment Mandi was eliminated. “Where were we all?” You asked, looking around the room.

PK pointed at Cinna, “You and me, we’ll pretend to be Y/N and George!” The American hopped off her spot on the beanbag and layed out on the sofa. PK sat next to her and held her hands, shifting shoulder to shoulder with her. “We’re not gonna recreate it all because that wouldn’t be Netflix appropriate.” PK smirked, staring straight at the camera in the corner of the room with a suggestive eyebrow raise.

Your mouth dropped open, “We are not like that!” You said as you watched PK and Cinna pretend to lean in for a kiss before staring straight at each other. Cinna whipped her head around to you, “Yeah! You’re worse!” PK threw his head back laughing.

Jason began the scene until he was interrupted with the TV behind him going off; ‘Please head to the Challenge Arena.’ It read.

Everyone exclaimed while some (Jason and PK) cheered. The group walked down to the Arena, the door opening to reveal a screen and a seat next to it, the screen reading ‘Spill The Tea.’

“I’m cooked.” PK laughed. George wrapped an arm around your waist and tugged you close, pressing a soft kiss against the side of your head and dragging you down onto the seat next to him, squished between him and Mya, his hand settling on your thigh as Ethan and Tobi stood proud before you.

“It’s time to spill the tea.” Ethan smiled, barely able to contain his excitement for the drama about to ensue. “Let’s see what you guys really think about each other. Each one of you will be called to the hot seat, and you’ll be questioned on something someone said or done, and it’s your job to get the correct answer.” 

After a couple rounds, it was PK’s turn to be in the spotlight. Tobi read off the cue cards, “Which Insider was told, ‘After our kiss last night, I haven’t stopped thinking about you.’”

You closed your eyes in silent horror, hearing the group of people around you all gasp and look between each other. PK’s mouth dropped open, “What have I missed?” He laughed and rocked on his chair. 

You and George subtly looked over at each other, trying to hide the grin and pink cheeks that were growing on both of your faces. “Who’s kissing who?” Pk mumbled to himself; George’s hand on your thigh tensed and squeezed it slightly as his attention remained on the man in front of you all.

PK squinted his eyes and pointed at you and George, “Somethings telling me it’s you two…” You held a straight face as Tobi’s stare watched to see if you communicated the answer in any way to PK.

PK smirked as he saw George’s hand comfortably on your thigh, “Yeah, I’m going with the two lovebirds over there.” 

Ethan nodded and urged everyone to look at the screen, “Let’s find out.”

The screen turned on to show you and George sat at the vanity in the bedrooms, staring into each other's eyes. The room gasped and bellowed in laughter and screams as the intimate moment between you and George was exposed, causing you to hide your face in his neck, hearing his airy chuckles as he watched on.

“And after our kiss last night,” Your cheek burned under his touch. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you. Everything about you, Y/N.” He whispered, heart sinking at your silence, “Please say something.” He pleaded.

Instead of saying anything, you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his harshly. He grunted in shock and quickly settled into the kiss, hand rounding to the back of your head and tangling in your hair, pushing your face closer to his. George tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips. You sighed at the contact and wound your hand through his mullet, finding yourself leaning forward to practically sit on his lap.

George noticed this and placed his hands on the backs of your thighs, hoisting you onto his lap, catching you by surprise. You yelped into the kiss which caused him to part from you for a moment, “You drive me insane, Y/N.” Your hands cupped his cheeks and you could feel his jaw moving from the intensity he was kissing you with, heat flowing through your body. 

“Well, PK. You got both answers spot on!” Tobi clapped. 

PK tore his eyes away from the screen with his jaw slack, “George, you horny bastard!” He yelled, pointed at the man who blinked in shock. You covered your mouth to suppress your laughter as everyone, including Tobi and Ethan, slammed the table near them in screeches of laughter.

It was then your turn to be in the hot seat, “Y/N, please join us at the front.” Ethan called your name, he avoided eye contact with you, a sinking feeling settling in his stomach as he held the cue card to reveal your question.

“Oh no…” You pulled an awkward smile, standing up from your seat and letting George’s hand that was resting on your thigh fall off. As you walked away, you heard him mutter a soft, “Good luck.” You winked back at him.

You sat down onto the stool, adjusting your hoodie as you felt your nerves perk up. Looking over at Ethan, he cleared his throat and looked at you with a guilty facial expression. “Y/N. An Insider has lied to you.”

Your eyebrows raised as the people sat down opposite you dropped their mouths open, Cinna looking between them all and mumbling a “What?”

You were shocked to say the least, “Oh…” You laughed awkwardly and fiddled with the hem of your hoodie as Ethan continued. “An Insider has previously lied to you about who they voted for. Please may you name who you think this Insider is.” He declared.

You licked your lips, peering over at the group and seeing their stoic facial expressions. You were confused, you assumed everyone had been truthful to you about their voting habits in the past, now second guessing everything anyones said to you beforehand.

Scratching your jawline, you wince and let your eyes trail everyones body language to see if anyone was subtly giving you a hint, despite it not being a part of the game. “Oh, God…” You bit your lip.

Cinna held a calm facial expression, you had already crossed her off your list as she confirmed to you a couple days ago that she wouldn’t and has never lied to you within this house. Mya looked downwards, actively avoiding eye-contact with you as she picked at her nails. George’s leg was bouncing up and down, his elbows leaning on his knees as his hand rubbed against his chin; he stared directly at you with pleading eyes, taking keen notice of how his face looked paler than usual. 

When you weren’t looking, George shook his head and made eye-contact with Ethan and Tobi on the side, both of them looking back at him with a subtle frown and a dreadful feeling looming over them.

You took a deep breath, “I’m gonna go with PK,” You pointed at him, “Only because I’m going off the assumption that they’re tricking me and the lying took place in one of the early days.” PK nodded at you with an understanding smile. “And me and PK weren’t close by then, so he might have lied to keep himself safe and in the game.” You reasoned.

Tobi nodded, “So your final answer is PK?” You deliberated for a moment, cringing and finalising, “Yes. I’m locking in PK.”

Tobi breathed out heavily and screwed his eyes shut, then pointed at the screen behind you. “Let’s see if you were right.”

You swiveled yourself around on the stood, “Fuck.” You bit your lip and tried to play off this whole event with a forced smile, your heart pounding out of your chest.

The TV flicked on and showed the image of you and George stood in an embrace after Farah’s elimination. 

Your eyes widened and you snapped your head around to face George, confused by this entire thing and allowing yourself to give him the benefit of the doubt at the moment when the video wasn’t finished.

George wrapped his arms around your waist, swaying the pair of you back and forth. You were still shaken about how you and George had nearly been sent home, and the fact that you had lost some of the people you were closest with in this house.

George’s hand stroked the back of your head, “That was fucking awful.” You mumbled tearfully into his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat to calm yourself down. “It’s alright, it’s alright.” He whispered into your hair, repeatedly pressing kisses on your forehead to sooth you.

You pulled yourself back from his chest, still leaning against him as you tilted your head up to look at him. “Who did you vote for? Both times.” You whispered, hand fiddling with his top as he stroked loose hairs back from your face, wanting to capture your beauty more.

George held your face in his hand, pausing before saying, “Whitney.” You nodded and tried to hold back your tears for the second wave. Your lips trembled as your voice broke, “Me too.”

George pressed his forehead against yours, “If you leave, I’ll leave too.” 

Tears started running down your face again, George tugged you into his arms more securely. “I’m so sorry.” He mumbled into your hair. 

The TV paused for a moment, allowing you to turn back to George who stared at the floor. Your brows were furrowed alongside everyone else's. You shook your head, “Wait, so who the fuck did you vote for?”

Ethan sighed, “Y/N, please may you turn your attention back to the screen.”

You obliged, swallowing a sick feeling bubbling in your throat as you heard George behind you protesting, “No, no. Let’s not--” “Y/N, watch the video.” Tobi stated.

Your palms were sweating and your head hurt as you watched the TV flick back on. A picture of George sat in Room 19.

George sighed, crossing his legs on the sofa as he held the cards in his hands, looking through the familiar faces before picking one out. He held the back of the card to the camera as he began to explain his voting.

“This is an extremely tough decision to make,” He said, fumbling with the corners of the card. “I like everyone in the house now, we’ve all warmed up to each other and I’ve already made memories to last a lifetime.” 

George licked his lips and shook his head, “But I feel like I’ve been playing it safe this entire time and it’s clear that in doing so, people have seen me as a target to vote out.”

“I can’t have people in here thinking I’m playing a game, we’re all here for the same reason and would go to certain lengths to get it.” He rubbed his face with his hands, groaning into them. Then leaning back and resting both of his arms on the back of the sofa.

“I’ve decided to vote for this person because I’m completely convinced that they’ll be safe, so technically my vote doesn’t count for anything.” He started his reasoning.

“But in doing so, I’m also proving a point with my vote. It’ll probably shake up the house for all the wrong reasons but… I guess that’s part of the reason why I’m doing it.” He laughed and threw his head back, running his fingers through his hair before picking up the card again.

“So, with that. I’ve decided to vote for…” He flipped the card around to show the camera.

“Y/N.”

The video ended as everyone around you gasped.

You fell still, heart pounding as you felt it sink deeper in your stomach. You shook your head with your tongue wedged between your teeth, biting down hard as you tried to stop the tears from falling from your water coated eyes. Your hands were shaking as you itched your neck, feeling a flush of embarrassment running through your body.

You refused to turn around, you couldn’t bear to see anyone, especially George, with you crying over the person you were the closest with to betray you.

Fuck, you had literally kissed yesterday. You literally fucking slept with him. And he wants you out; what happened to ‘if you leave, I leave’ bullshit? Was he always lying? Did this entire ‘relationship’ mean anything to him? Or did he just want to win and saw you as an easy route to the final?

“Y/N, I am so sorr--” George started. “Don’t.” Your voice trembled, holding back tears. You wanted to get out of this room right now, the feeling was suffocating you.

You looked over at the void where you previously sat, feeling sick that you had to sit next to him again. Shaking your head, you walked to the opposite end of the bench, nodding for Jason to move down and for you to sit on the end.

In silence, Jason obliged with a guilty face, feeling awful for you right now. You felt George’s eyes burn into the side of you face, lip tucked between his teeth with words and apologies threatening to spill; but since he’s fucked up so bad already, he owed you the right for space right now.

Sitting down, you rubbed your face with your hands, sighing heavily and clearing your throat to cover any emotion that was spilling over. PK’s hands brushed your shoulders and squeezed them in support, you placed your hand on top of his as a silent appreciation.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Ethan said softly, eyes casting over you sat with your head low. You shrugged your shoulders, “I don’t know.” You said, voice coming out a lot quieter than you intended, words trembling as your hands shook in the sleeves of your hoodie.

Tobi nodded at you, “Alright. We’ll move on.” He shared a glance with Ethan, “I’m gonna call PK back to the hot seat.”

“Which Insider has lied about their temptation?” He was asked. You knew it was George, he had told you. The reminder of his immunity felt like they were rubbing salt into the wound, the image of you refusing a moment of clarity for George and his safely in this show, and his willingness to vote you out; when was this fucking challenge going to end?

After locking in the answer of Jason, the clip of George rolled through. You didn’t look up at the screen, eyes glued to the floor as your lips trembled, eyes rolling back to stop tears blurring your vision.

Cinna watched you as the clip played, reaching her hand behind Jason and tapping your side. You looked up at the contact and felt Cinna’s hand nudge yours, you let her hand intertwine with yours, knowing you needed the comfort right now. A frown deepened on your face, the impending sickening feeling of George snaking you out replayed over and over in your head; kicking and torturing you for being so naive.

George raised his hand to defend his case, “I would like to say I did feel absolutely awful as soon as I went round the corner. I told Y/N. I told Cinna. I told Milli.” He glanced over at you, yet you didn’t look anywhere near his direction.

Jason turned to you, “You knew?” You swallowed and looked at him, “Yeah, but if I knew we were snaking each other out, I would have told you all.” You spat to try and deflect your sadness.

George let out a sigh, stomach swarming with guilt; he needed to talk to you immediately. “Y/N…” “No, it’s fine. Gotta do what you gotta do to win.” You shrugged your shoulders and stared ahead, the screen in front of you a mockery to what you wish you hadn’t seen.

Tobi sighed, “Wow. That was some spillage.” Ethan looked over at everyone, “I think the dynamic’s shifted a bit.”

Once you were given the signal to leave, you instantly hopped out your seat and strode towards the exit doors, waiting for no one. George watched you leave, lingering in his seat for a moment and sighing, looking over at where you once sat next to him with his hand on your thigh, smiling and tucking your head into his neck. 

Jason tapped George on the shoulder, “You gonna talk to her?” George nodded, “Eventually. Well, when she wants to see me.” 

Jason cringed, “You fucked up, brother.” George nodded and rubbed his face with his hands, “I know.” He mumbled. “I know.” He repeated in a whisper.

time skip!

“Hey, can we talk?” You heard George mumble from around the corner. You were sitting where you had kissed, once a happy memory, but now tainted with a feeling that none of it was real. 

You didn’t respond, so George took the liberty to sit down next to you with enough comfortable space between you two.

“I’m sorry.” He started.

“No, you’re not.” You whispered, voice thick with sadness.

George tilted his head with furrowed brows, “Y/N, I really am…” He sighed watching you shake your head with a humorous laugh, lip tucked between your teeth and tears brimming on your waterline.

“Why would you do that?” You mumbled. George looked down to the floor, “I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking.”

“What night was it?” You faced him, staring daggers into his solemn face. His head whipped up and his face was etched with confusion. “What?” “Which night did you vote for me?” You spoke with certainty.

George’s face paled, “Y/N, that’s not what I want--” “Tell me.” You left no room for digression.

You watched him swallow and eyes trail over you, as if this confession could lose you. As if he was never going to see you again, at least in this light. His chest rose up and down a lot quicker, his heart pounding against his chest.

“The first one.” He said with regret.

Your face fell as you reflected on that night. The one in which you were almost eliminated. If it wasn’t for your insane luck and Milli’s generosity, you would have not been in this house right now, and believing George missed you; but he was the biggest game player here.

“Oh, my fucking God…” You muttered, eyes trailing away from him. You heard him sigh, “Let me explain.” “Explain what?” You interrupted him, “George, I was basically eliminated! And you didn’t fucking care, you were part of the reason!” 

You remembered his face of regret when Vik said you received the lowest voices, thinking at the time, that he was upset at your departure; but no, he realised he was at fault and had to face the consequences of his impulse actions that had led you two to this exact moment.

You covered your face with your hands as it became too overwhelming, “What happened to the ‘You leave, I leave’ bullshit, George?”

He didn’t meet your eyes. All the excuses and apologies that he had planned and were on the tip of his tongue before entering this room had fallen off his lips, reduced to immense guilt as he felt you slipping away from his grasp.

“Did I mean anything to you, George? Or were you just playing the game?” George’s eyes snapped up to see tears streaming down your face.

“No! It was never that!” He started, hands waving around as his brows upturned. “Was I an easy route to the final?” You ignored him.

“No!” George shook his head, desperation seeping in his voice. “Someone to make you feel less lonely being here?” You laughed painfully, thinking back to all your shared moments and considering if any of it was real, let alone last.

George reached for your hand, “Y/N, please…” You flinched away from his touch, “Clearly not because you were happy to get me the fuck out of here!” You thought back to your last question, disregarding any point George tried to make, he understood he messed up, but he needed to feel what you felt.

George sighed and let your statement linger in the air, silence suffocating the room for a moment. “Y/N, you are so much more than this stupid game.” He said. You looked over at him and saw the rims of his eyes were red, cheeks pale and hair messy. Any other time, you would have wrapped him up in your arms and held him close, stroking his hair and kissing his face, whispering sweet nothings; because you knew that man, but you didn’t know the one sat in front of you right now.

You tilted your head and looked at him, “Then why did you pick it over me.” You whispered.

George couldn’t respond. He couldn’t deny you because he knew you were right. His heart plummeted into his stomach as you looked tired from crying, tears staining your cheeks and hands shaking as you brushed hair away from your face, an action he once had the privilege to do, but screwed it all up. He regretted it the moment he said your name in Room 19, the words fell off his tongue as if he was speaking a different language, it didn’t feel right. But he still did it, and he couldn’t take it back.

You couldn’t bear the silence or him anymore and made a move to leave the room. Standing up slowly, you heard George one more time, “I’m so sorry.”

You glanced at him, “I don’t care.” And you left the room, leaving your heart behind you and your rational head questioning if there was any point being in here now; the game had played you, and you didn’t know if you wanted to play it anymore.

bonus! (bc i'm so sorry for doing that to them)

@wherethezoes-at @sidemenslver @multifanxtvshows @bibissparkles @le-le-lea @tiamonetsworld @dopeysunflowers @viagracex @rebeccaw05-blog @sundarksposts @sabbrriiinnaa @lovingaphroditesworld @evisceratedmuke @youtubewag @happyclifford @liz140569 @addiemb8332 @isabellem2909 @madforgeorge @pookietv @georgeclarkeyscakeyass @marijas-stuff @maggie-readss @bambidollstar @lottiewills @lmaowhathaha @sukimoves @randomstufflol29 @isabelle-2934 @sophiexxclarkey @levidazai @smogballsstuff @loveheart-123 @alysbaby @octopusoptimusprime @mylillstuff @landoslvr @essieswurld @swaggerjagger2014 @isla-finke-blog @amyissocool @k0ul1ss @musicforsnoopy @bowielovesyou @fly-me-away @7leb-kakaw @je33123 @theresglittleronthefloor @geliophobias @w2sfever @grantgustluv @yourfavartistsfavartist12

[prettyboykatsuki]

FANG IM ON MY HANDS AND KNEES PLEASE I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR MORE ABOUT BEST FRIENDS TO LOVERS WITH SAE

you meet sae at 14

in spain, an exchange student from another country. your very first words to him come out in a very broken spanish—trying to tell him his bangs look ridiculous while you’re busy running away from the other students from your school.

sae harbors no good memories of spain. this includes you. you’re a nuisance in his side from that moment forward. not only do you force your phone number on him and manage to snatch his too - you text him all the time with nonsense updates. you speak sometimes in spanish, sometimes in english, and later—in japanese when you choose to study in highschool, to curse at him a little better. he spends the first few months running your messages through a translator, but he keeps this a secret from everyone - including you.

you’re a thorn in his side, but you met at the right time. back before sae was completely beaten down, still receptive to people coming in and out of his life.

you weren’t even especially close. not enough to be there for all the good and bad like something out of a manga. not constantly stuck together. you were more like a pen pal. or a pet he had to maintain in his phone. it wasn’t that you were so connected

it was just that - in a place where his existence and talent became meaningless, occasionally there would be some moron who would spam his phone in a hundred different texts if he took too long to text back. nothing more, nothing less.

you meet up a few times in the years sae lives in spain. once every few months, at the same cafe you met. you do most of the talking and take a million pictures. time goes by like that, with you in the constant peripherals of his life.

a connection he doesn’t want to acknowledge until he’s forced to. even as he hardens over the years, for some reason you stick around. he doesn’t want to see you as anything. he doesn’t form relationships that way. his indifference is genuine. but you’re alright

by the time you’re both 18–sae has to return to japan for a short while. and at the airport, you sob - mistakenly thinking he was moving back. he stood and watched you for a long while before smacking your head and calling you stupid.

despite that there was nothing but pure relief on your face. and his expression, for once, had a pleasant tiny smile.

it’s then that sae would acknowledge you as more than a nuisance. he refuses to call you his best friend even as the years continue. even as you turn 19, 20, 21 and as saes career blossoms and you’re the only one who ever seems to check in about his games. even though you spend holidays together and make sure you celebrate birthdays.

sae can’t close the distance. he doesn’t want to. the comfortable, accommodating relationship between you suits him. anything more would make him uncomfortable. you never push it, so he doesn’t either.

and then, at 23 - you come to sae heartbroken for the very first time.

it’s a mess. you come over sobbing, mascara running down your face with a bottle of wine in hand. it’s the first time in your almost ten years of friendship that you come to him for anything and sae lets you in. you sit down on his living room floor and sob helplessly about some guy who broke your heart. sae hadn’t even known you’d been seeing someone.

he didn’t even know you were dating. or seeing people in that way. he didnt know something about you. him, the person you text your cycle to. him, the person whose heard your opinion on every single ghibli movie ten times over. him, whose been putting up with your spam texts for a decade nearly of his life.

sae feels his heartbeat pulse for the first time. its an ugly feeling under his ribcage. throbbing and red blooded and alive. he manages to comfort you without being weird (he’s gotten good at it over the years) but you insist on sleeping at his place.

so he lets you. you sleep on the floor of his room despite him offering you the guest room. it’s the first time you stay over. just before bed, you thank him for letting you in and he thinks you’re an idiot for being thankful for that. that much is nothing.

you sleep soundly. it makes sense.

sae does not sleep. for some reason he can’t. all he does is lay down and close his eyes and feel frustrated. he thinks about how easily he let you in to his place. he thinks about all the dates you’ve been on without him knowing - surely assuming he wouldn’t care.

he shouldn’t care. if you decided that you don’t need to tell him that then sae doesn’t see a reason to push. he shouldn’t care. he never pries into your life anyhow. your relationship has always been comfortable. he puts up with you because you’re pretty alright.

no matter how much he tries to sleep, nothing lets him. he tosses and turns until the sun is almost risen.

he turns to face you where you sleep on the floor and the sun is hitting your back.

he stares and stares and stares. he thinks—if you barged in on him like this even further. if you got even closer, he’d be fine with it. if you were looking to date just to have a guy to show off, he’d be fine if you asked. if you walked in and made yourself even more comfortable and pressed on - well whatever. he might as well.

he thinks, if he knew you were wanting to date someone, he wouldve just been your boyfriend. it’d be fine. if you wanted to kiss or go on dates - sae would go with you.

he jolts. freezes when that thought crosses his mind. and he pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes shut hard and brow furrowed. suddenly frustrated.

in the confessional of dawn, sae thinks to himself just once—it’s probably a lot more than just tolerance. and it’s been that way for a long time.

it’s the first time in his life he doesn’t know what to do. what the hell does he do? what does he want to do?

he tells himself nothing. really. it’s been fine until then so why should it change.

but your phone buzzes with the number of the guy you just broke up with when he thinks and he learns quickly that’s not happening either.

he’s never felt so exasperated with something in his life. the only option is to do the one thing he’s been avoiding his entire life and make you fall for him.

it’s his turn, he figures - being the one looking stupid between you

[ihrthoney]

for us

pairings: namgyu x preg!reader

warnings: angst & fluff :p

an: i started my first big girl job but im motivated so ill try to post more :)! i haven’t posted in a minute and i hate pregnancy tropes but i make the exception for squid games lol. i will make a part two!

nam-gyu was many things, an addict, a partier, an idiot and a sweetheart. the sweetest ever, actually.

unfortunately for you you worked at club pentagon, which is how you met the physical embodiment of an acid trip.

who he was when he was sober was something you cherished and kept close to your heart. it wasn’t hard to weave your way into his rotten lungs, but soon enough you became his air, his new high.

after learning you never did substances, he switched positions at the club and asked you to get a safer job, not wanting you to inevitably cave to the horrible things that he tries.

you scold him of course, reprimand him and argue about hating how he acted when under the influence. for a while he managed to stop, wanting something serious and stable.

but then he met thanos, he came home obnoxiously intoxicated. nam-gyu was so star struck that he saw a famous rapper that he didn’t understand why you locked him out of the room, until he woke up the next morning with a headache he only got when he was on drugs.

apologies spewed out of his mouth, wishing for a second chance. his wish was granted, he found another outlet for “extra money” and promised you both a fresh start.

until the extra money vanished off the face of the earth and now he was in incredible debt.

the few months of bliss now gone, thoughts of continuing such an unstable relationship this far into life didn’t seem like a good idea. the arguments were bad, mostly on your end as you couldn’t get him to stop begging and spilling empty promises,

“i’ll make the money back and i’ll work harder to make more for you, please baby i’m so sorry.” the sight of him on his knees and holding your legs would’ve been kind of sweet if this wasn’t the millionth time he’s promised to be better.

to his disappointment, you walked out of his life that night, asking him to only find you when he grew up.

he was determined to make the money back, nam-gyu had no hesitation when calling the number on the card.

-

seeing thanos’ face on the big screen in the unfamiliar room brought a bitter taste in your mouth. you felt bad, seeing as he had the talent but like your ex he succumbed to the high instead.

your ex. that fucking moron. that piece of shit doesn’t even know you’re carrying his damn kid.

a week after you walked out of his life, you guys met up one time to exchange clothes and what not but one thing lead to another and here you were in hospital debt. finding a stable job was hard, especially when you worked as a bartender most of your adult life.

the stress was eating you alive, renting the nice place you had was not cheap and the nice landlord could only be nice for so long because you had to start paying more.

the past few months have been rough and you really wish you had the support of your ex even if he wasn’t the greatest, he was yours and that’s all that really mattered.

standing in line to sign the consent forms made you nauseous, afraid of what’s to come. as you’re walking back to your bed, you get stopped by a hand on your shoulder,

“yn?”

you feel your heartbeat quicken as you turn around and look at your ex boyfriend.

“why are you here?” his hand is still on your shoulder, slightly moving up and down your arm.

he always had a thing for keeping a hand on you, he said it grounded him.

“the same reason everyone is, debt.”

the expression on his face makes your chest ache, he looks so concerned that it makes you a wee bit mad, “what debt are you in? you’ve always been financially responsible!”

he was right, out of you two you made the smarter choices. it dawned on you that you had yet to tell him you’re pregnant with his kid.

“yn? what happened? did someone scam you? i know some people that could find them.” his tone deepening as he becomes more serious, “no! it’s not like that. it’s complicated..”

the worry in your voice makes his eyes fill with worry, “baby, you can tell me.” the name makes you push away from him but the distance is immediately gone as he closes it, pulling your hands into his own. you can’t look him in the eye, scared he’s going to be mad at you.

you’re going to keep it no matter what but the thought of him hating you and your kid makes your heart crack.

the swirled hormones make everything seem so much more intense, tears start to fill your eyes which makes his widen. his hands, ever so warm, hold your face and tilt it so you’re looking at him.

“what’s wrong, i’m here ba-“

“i’m pregnant, nam-gyu.” he pulls his hands off of your face like he was burned, an expression of hurt and anger swirls in his eyes,

“who’s the father?” you look at him like he’s stupid, which only makes him more upset. “why are you looking at me like that?”

does he seriously think i got with someone else?

nam-gyu is distraught, the thought of you no longer being in love with him makes him sick. the fact that you’re carrying someone else’s child makes any will to live disappear. suddenly he doesn’t care that he owes money to anyone, there’s no chance to get you back. “does he treat you well? are you happier?”

“i’m not seeing anyone new, nam-gyu.”

“you shouldn’t be playing games if you’re pregnant. you could hurt yourself or the baby.”

despite his own lack of rationality when making choices, he was always so careful with you.

you threw any rationality you had and spit out the truth,

“it’s yours.”

now he was looking at you like you were stupid, “what?”

“the baby. it’s yours. you’re the father. i’m carrying your child.” he blinks at you slowly, taking in the information you just dropped on him,

“it’s.. you’re carrying.. our baby?” nodding your head, you step forward and take his hand and guide it to your stomach.

“after we broke up, i started to feel sick so i took a test. i didn’t know what to do, i couldn’t find a good job near my place, moving is too expensive, i was afraid to reach out to you. i owe the hospital so much because i’m paying by month but i ran out of savings and then this guy came up to me and gave me a card to make money.”

by the end of your ramble, nam-gyu pulled you in for a tight hug, smoothing your back with his hand. softly, he coos into your hair, “i would’ve never denied you. had you called, we could’ve figured this shit out together.”

you argued back, “how was i supposed to know that? you promised me over and over again but nothing changed!”

despite missing the warmth, you again create a distance by pushing him away from you, although it’s no use given how he holds your arms but he still keeps the distance out of respect for you.

“i have changed! i’m here, i’m going to win that money and i’ll take care of you.” his eyes plead, the hands that hold you start to shake.

“you’ll win it? alone?” the logic hits him and he laughs at his own idiocy, “we’ll win, i’ll make sure we both get out of here. we can put the money together. it’ll be more than enough for us to start over!”

you’re skeptical, sure the chance of winning is there but.. is your trust in him still there?

“if we win-“

his hands move from your arms to your stomach, “when baby, when we win-“

your eyes roll at his optimism, “if and when we win, you need to quit drugs. cold turkey. no excuses, no more second chances. if you so much as look at a drug, i will kill you and raise this kid alone, do you understand me?”

he mocks a soldier, hand to his head and stance straight, “yes ma’am!” the pose barely lasts as he starts to giggle, following you to your bed while holding onto your hand.

there was more to come, you had a feeling that much money wouldn’t come so easy, but things felt just a tad easier with him.

© ihrthoney. reblogs & feedback are greatly appreciated𑁤

[thxtmarvelchick]

JJ Valentine’s Fic Recs

in honour of Valentine’s Day (weekend bc i’m posting this late), here are my favourite fics of JJ Maybank that made the holiday a little less depressing <3 (this was originally supposed to be all obx characters but i got carried away but trust i have SO MANY MORE for the rest of the pogues (and more jj) so i’ll do a part 2 eventually)

only got the courage to post this because of @tinypinkrobot so this is for them <3

most if not all fics are x fem!reader and some are 18+ (therefore i would prefer minors not to interact with this post but i do not have the time nor the energy to check everyone’s acc), the authors are NOT responsible for your internet consumption (nor am i); be responsible, pay attention, and respect the authors boundaries! (all 18+ fics will be labelled! MINORS DNI)

Outerbanks

JJ Maybank

full length fics+series

His To Keep by @pankowperfection (18+)

smut, kinda dark JJ, oral (f receiving), branding

i first read this fic almost three months ago and i still think about it all the time (i have the link in my notes app im not kidding), this author is so talented go read all their fics tbh they kill it everytime, i go to their account and reread everything all the time

summer lovin’ by @murdockcastleslut (18+ blog)

ongoing series, kook!jj, pogue!reader, if jj was raised by larissa, rafe and reader have some history

look… i will eat up every kook!jj fic that is thrown my way. the way the author writes jj and the interactions between him and reader😩, the plot is so intriguing and im always so excited for every new chapter. ALSO reader is SO jj’s girl like he is so down bad, expect cute petnames (HE CALLS HER PRINCESS ICANYSIAKSKSOSIJWIDISJSKS and then he pulled out a “my darling angel” once and im pretty sure i passed out). honestly go read all of her works bc holy shit every single one of them is fantastic.

teach me please by @mrsriddlenott (18+)

smut, bsf!jj, innocent!reader, oral (m&f receiving), reader overhears someone talking badly ab them (indirect bullying), use of good girl🤭

this is another one i’ve had in my notes app since it was posted, since then the author has written a part two and both parts are so incredibly written. their dynamic and the way you can TELL they’ve been wanting each other for so long is EVERYTHING

love on the island by @papercranesandinkstains

ongoing series, love island!au

if you follow me and pay attention to my reposts you knew this was coming… i have said it once and will say it again this is my favourite SMAU (tied with rhythm&revelry) i’ve ever read and it’s not even finished yet. the amount of time and effort put into this fic truly pays off because WOW. the graphics are beautiful. interactive polls. BANTER. jj is fumbling over himself he is so into reader😭enough said go read it.

Rhythm & Revelry by @darlingchronicles

ongoing series, university au, SMAU

the creativity is simply insane, i can’t even imagine how long it takes the author to do these chapters because she’s truly created a whole world to the point where sometimes i forget it’s not actually an app and is actually a fanfic. the relationships between characters is so beautifully developed and it’s not all romance. you get really amazing insights into the friendships between the reader (nicknamed blue) and sarah, cleo and pope. honestly i can’t even explain in words how much i love this fic. definitely a comfort fic (and i LOVE making up theories in my head as to what happened in the past iykyk). this is a long one so great for passing time (or if you’re me, ignoring your responsibilities and binging the whole thing bc you’re simply too hooked)

Kildare University by @papercranesandinkstains

completed series, two different endings (JJ or Rafe endgame depending on your preference), university au, jj plays football, reader is in band, rafe is readers ex, SMAU

ok i couldn’t just put ONE of her fanfics on here let’s be real everything this author writes turns to gold. immaculate build up, amazing chemistry, the way you can choose who reader ends up with is everything to me bc i might’ve curled up in a ball and died if i didn’t see a jj endgame. BUT everyone can be happy (ADDITIONALLY if you’re a jj AND rafe person you get double chapters sooooo what’s not to love)

narcotic by @thebestjjenthusiast

completed series, SMAU, bsf!jj

you can tell the author has an elite sense of humor bc they have me cackling at 3am. also JJ is DOWN BAD for reader it’s so funny, like expect CONSTANT flirting… this man is practically begging reader to get with him and reader is OBLIVIOUS😭, the flirting has me blushing so hard i have to pause reading sometimes just to giggle into my pillow AND the ending is perfect

summer was my first love by @vampiriito (18+) pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6

ongoing series, shy! reader, reader has social anxiety, READER WEARS GLASSES (glasses girls rise), reader has secretly had a crush on jj for like ever but he’s always been “out of her reach”… or so she thought

the build-up. readers characterization and the depiction of her social anxiety are everything to me. jj is so soft for her and he doesn’t even fully know it or understand why at first. i’ve cried multiple times reading this series AND NOT EVEN BC ITS SAD just because i feel so seen and represented. this author genuinely writes so well i cannot wait for the next part🥹

Biker!JJ Oneshot by @highpope

biker!jj, motorbike stunt

this had me blushing and giggling i’m not kidding. jj is so soft with reader and reassures her when she gets scared. when he called her pretty girl i think i passed out. the flirting in this makes me flustered no matter how many times i read it😭

First Date Oneshot by @jjsloverre

bsf!jj, sweetheart!reader, fluff, mentions of sex but no smut

the dynamic between bsf!jj and sweetheart!reader is one of my favourites. they are honestly everything to me. he’s so sweet and caring towards her (but expect innuendos and cursing bc it’s jj we all know he can’t help it). additionally you have to check out their other bsf!jj and sweetheart!reader fics too!!!

Gossip Girl by @maybejj (18+)

ongoing series, SMAU, pay attention to the trigger warnings at the beginning of each chapter

DRAMAAAAAAAAAA. the plot will grasp your attention and not let go and next thing you know it’s 5am and you have class in 3 hours (not at all speaking from experience that’d be crazyyyy id never do that…🥲). JJ LOVES reader and would probably kill for them. readers friendship with kie, sarah and cleo is EVERYTHING, they are truly readers ride or dies.

secret admirer by @voidangxls

part two

kook!reader, pure fluff, jj is DOWN BAD, part of a valentines special

hands down THE CUTEST thing i’ve ever read on this app. jj gets teased by the pogues for not being able to talk to reader😭 the dual pov makes it so interesting bc you can see how in love jj is and wonder how the hell reader hasn’t noticed him staring them down 24/7😭😭 will be rereading everyday.

-blurbs/drabbles/texts (not gonna make notes on these ones but know i have every single one in my notes app and reread them CONSTANTLY, these authors are so incredibly talented <3)

Boy in Love by @everydaydreamer (18+ blog)

pure fluff, valentines blurb

texts with jj by @lillymmb

boyfriend!jj, fluff, jj LOVES reader

breeding kink concept by @moremaybank (18+)

implied but no smut, breeding kink (duh😭)

black cat!reader by @ervotica (18+)

black cat!reader, use of daddy, once again jj LOVES reader, reader is grumpy

texts with jj and desi!reader by @deadpcnned

desi!reader, jj in a kurta😩, established relationship, i just love this

boyfriend!jj by @lovelyjj

“wear whatever you want i can fight”😩, jj can throw a punch, fluff fluff fluff

passenger princess by @rubiehart (18+)

jj being fine, groping, use of “my girl”🤭

valentine’s day with jj by @seasprincess

established relationship, jj saves up to buy reader gifts, pure fluff

[sixosix]

PLASTIC FLOWERS | LYNEY

i. summary the great magician lyney wooing nine-to-fiver reader

ii. tags 1.8k words, fluff, reader is a little slow but hey that’s what 9-to-5 does to someone, pining lyney, awkward flirting, and a lot of wilted flowers im sorry…

You’ve heard of Lyney and Lynette in passing before. You might’ve rushed past one of their street performances once or twice, or maybe you stumbled upon flyers promoting their grand shows fluttering past. However, today, they are the center of every discussion, particularly Lyney, from your gushing coworkers. They swoon about how charming the young man was to them, and how exceptionally talented twins are.

You start to feel a little left out. You want to witness what all the excitement is all about, too. Your nine-to-five has you rushing back and forth the streets of Fontaine like there’s no tomorrow—and to your defense, with all the rumors and prophecies floating around, it might as well be that case.

Afternoon. Nearly evening. Your legs feel like water, liquid, and unable to keep themselves upright. You’re like a zombie walking back to your humble abode, drained of human life from too much human interaction.

A round of applause has you slowing your steps, your attention pulled towards a small crowd as if struck by a magnetic force.

A young man stands at the center, grinning devilishly as the crowd once again erupts into gasps of awe. He clutches a deck of cards in his hand, the classic image of what comes to mind when you think of magicians. Yet, you find yourself unable to move. It might be your water-legs; it might be how the man has everyone spellbound.

“Thank you, everyone!” he says, and the spell is broken at once. Was it a spell? It felt like one. “Be sure to come next week to Lynette and I’s performance at the Opera Epiclese, alright?” So he is Lyney.

Witnessing his elegance and heart-stealing smirk, you at least now know that your coworkers were certainly telling the truth.

The crowd filters out one by one. You do the same, wondering how much the tickets would cost. Hopefully no more than your usual dinner; that would mean you’d have to eat frozen bread for an entire evening.

“Wait, wait!”

You turn at the frantic exclamation, startled when Lyney is looking directly at you and rushing toward you. Panicked, you quickly scan your surroundings, only to find that there’s no one else he could possibly be referring to.

Just you.

“Hello,” you murmur begrudgingly once he’s at a close distance.

“Hi,” he says back, a little breathless. “You missed the show earlier.”

“I—I did.” Is he seriously talking to you? “But don’t worry! I saw enough. It was really cool!” Really? It was really cool?

He relaxes, his smile turning pleased. Lyney’s gaze feels heavy when you’re the only one holding onto it. “That’s a shame. I’ve seen you around before, zipping through. I won’t let you slip through my fingers this time around.”

His voice is smooth. You find yourself liking the lilac of his eyes.

At your stunned silence, Lyney continues, “Here, watch my hand closely, alright?”

You nod obediently, mostly to conceal how flustered his presence is making you feel. It feels as if his voice is right beside your ears, or it might just be how it seems like the world quiets down for this moment.

He closes his palm. You hear him huff a sweet laugh. You get distracted and glance up, though it seems it was a mistake. He grins at you knowingly, eyes twinkling—his stupid, dark eyes. You look back down, and a flower has magically appeared square on his palm.

It’s a flower you’re unfamiliar with, but it’s beautiful and smells sweet so you find yourself uncaring of whatever it could mean.

He stares patiently.

You blink, dumb-struck. “For me?”

“Of course,” he says with a dazzling grin.

“Oh, thank you, but I— I really don’t know how to take care of these things, and I’m so busy, I don’t know if I should—”

You reject it. Which, in hindsight, was most rude.

Lyney tilts his head, smiling like you’re some cute cat he found passing by—and that gaze has your words dying on your tongue. “I’m not giving it to you for you to feel burdened with the responsibility of taking care of it. Trust me, I just want you to have it.”

You look at him, uncertainty flashing in your expression. “You don’t want to give it to someone else…?”

“Why would I? I saved this one especially for you,” the sweet talker says.

You highly doubt his words, but it’s nice to hear nevertheless. With a bashful smile, you take the flower and vow to yourself to take care of it as much as you can. It’s the only flower you’ve received your entire life.

“Thank you,” you say quietly.

He lights up impossibly, standing out so easily against the crowd. Just like that, you’re captivated.

The next day, Lyney reappears in your life. You're beginning to suspect that his hat conceals an infinite stockpile of these roses, and maybe that's the true magic: the enigma of Lyney's never-ending supply.

This time around, he’s loitering the streets without plans for any performances, however small. Though, he still entertains you in different ways.

“My work’s not too nice,” you tell him when he asks why you look tired, all too aware of your sore feet and cheeks from straining smiles all day. “I don’t know how you performers do it non-stop. I feel like I could just sleep on this sidewalk.”

“It might be helping that I love doing what I do,” Lyney supplies after a thoughtful hum. It’s still a little surreal having the man printed in posters and pictures all over The Steambird is now casually walking alongside you, but it’s nice. You feel your world has just brightened up a little—the new change of pace painting over the dull back and forth you’ve been living through for a while.

“Hey,” Lyney starts, as your eyes flick up from the ground to him. He’s holding another flower.

You smile as you gingerly take it from his fingers, skin brushing against his glove-free hands. “You’re helping the flower shops thrive, that’s for sure.”

“What can I say? I’m wonderful like that.”

You laugh, but it quickly dies down when you catch a glimpse of how Lyney is staring at you so openly with a bit of awe.

You clear your throat, looking away.

Lyney does the same as you find your face heating up. “Sorry.”

“Um,” scrambling for a change of topic, you say, “Are you trying to get me to watch the show you and your sister are holding next week?”

“What?” Lyney blinks, caught off guard. He smiles lopsidedly as you await for an answer. “No, I’m talking to you because I like you. And here I thought I was making myself obvious.”

“Sorry, I’m a bit slow,” you say, in a daze at his blunt confession.

That was nothing (that has to be). That was probably just your imagination, honestly—fantasizing about a handsome face, a small braid, and a mischievous grin. And you definitely don’t find yourself lying awake at night thinking about it.

As always, Lyney comes with a flower in hand. And you find out that he wasn’t lying when he said he saves a special flower for you.

You’re not sure how it seamlessly became a routine with him. At times, you wonder if he’s actually keeping track of the roses if you haven’t been throwing them to the trash. You wouldn't be able to deny it; you eventually would have to discard a once again graying rose, no matter how heartbreaking the parting is.

This time, you’re prepared. You've been studying up, like a lovesick high school student devouring dating magazines during your spare moments at work. The rose will still most likely wilt unfairly fast with how you’re barely a presence in your own home; sleeping soundly as soon as you arrive.

Lyney is smiling softly as he gives this one to you, silent. Though that’s probably because you’re raving on about how you swear that the next ones he’ll give will live longer if you figure out how to do it right.

He likes doing that—staring at you like watching a film play even though he’s the one on stage more often than not.

“Do you know what all those flowers I gave you mean?” he asks as you’re twirling it around and counting the petals. They’re still bright pink, fading to yellow at its tips. You shake your head. It could mean anything, really. You haven’t gotten to that part of the book yet. “My feelings for you,” he says. “I give them to you every day so you’re reminded of it.”

Your finger catches on one of the petals, your skin burning. “…Is that what you think? I feel horrible; the flowers you’ve given me all die in a day or two.”

Lyney laughs. “Is that what you’re worried about?”

“How else can I show you I’m not just casting your feelings aside?”

You turn to Lyney, wondering why he suddenly went silent. Only then, you see how he has his face buried in his palm, a dazed smile peeking out from what’s visible. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“...Sorry.”

He recovers fast. “Don’t be sorry.” Lyney holds your jaw in a precise grip, keeping your gaze focused on him. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

It’s only the next morning do you realize that the petals haven’t changed at all. You’re not sure why you haven’t noticed earlier.

Then again, you should’ve realized when he brought up what they mean so suddenly, that slick bastard.

Lyney sees you around the afternoon, and immediately he sees something new around your collar, probably because he keeps staring at it.

Lyney pulls you closer with a hand on the small of your back, and the other inspecting your brand-new necklace. “Is this…?”

It was a bit difficult to craft your own accessory, but you tried nevertheless. If Lyney goes out of his way to purchase different kinds of flowers, the least you can do is show him that each one makes you as happy as the first one did.

“You said they’re kind of like your feelings, right?” you say, unsure as to why you’re whispering. Lyney’s expression looks a little fragile. “So I made them into something to remind me of you every day.”

He presses his face onto your neck, and you nearly lose balance, holding onto the back of his head to keep yourself upright. “You’re too cute, amour. My heart can’t handle all of this,” he weeps dramatically.

( “Close your mouth, Lyney. You’re drooling,” Lynette says as she follows his gaze, watching you flutter past.

Lyney’s mouth snaps shut, wiping at his lips. He frowns. “I wasn’t even drooling.” He shakes his head. “Nevermind that—do you know who that was?”

“No,” Lynette says simply. “But I’m sure you’ll find a way to figure out eventually.” )

lyney went back to giving you real flowers after that btw

this was inspired by me daydreaming about lyney’s character quest and remembering that he literally gave us that flower accessory

[bunicate]

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི ₊˚ 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝒃𝒊𝒈 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕. itto x fem reader already burdened by your small chest, a rumor you happen to overhear makes you reluctantly ask your dear older brother for a helping hand.

warnings ꒱ྀི incest. reader has smaller breasts. tit sucking + minor worship ﾉ wc ꒱ 2k ﾉ 18+ ﾉ I wanted to write a haithy and wrio version as well but da wordz were not coming. can’t believe im writing for dis silly oni omg . . but enjoy pls <3

“don't be so crude, you idiot.”

it doesn’t take much to discern the confusion from his expression. itto had a range of maybe three emotions.

other than his overwhelming display of pride and exuberance, there’s always room for his dumbfoundedness. he’s frequently addled— his face constantly knitted together while his mind searches endlessly to find the answer, at least the one he thinks you want to hear, but he never really does.

“what ? you said you wanted me to help, right ?” he shrugs.

you narrow your eyes.

“I know what I said but you didn’t have to word it like . . . like that .”

like some animal, you want to say but instead you look at your brother in distaste.

too many times you find yourself struggling to accept the gap in your relationship. most people often make the wrong assumption of you being the older sibling and you have to begrudgingly correct them that no, you are in fact the younger and smarter sibling.

why couldn’t he tell that you’re already embarrassed enough as it is ? why do you have to spell it out and add to the duration of your suffering. by now, your cheeks are practically inflamed.

“how else do I ask ? oh , should I add the please ?” he pauses.

“show me your tits, please.”

he offers you a dopey smile of triumph. he’s proud of himself, thinking for once he’s finally appeased you, but he couldn’t be more wrong. so so wrong.

you’re aggressive with your sigh.

you were too smart to ask him of all people. you’re way too intelligent to believe in silly rumors and baseless gossip, but they tangle in the mire of your thoughts.

“if someone sucks on your breasts, they’ll grow !”

“huh ? no way. where did you hear that ?”

it was two women in passing, just talking and having a laugh and yet you can’t stop yourself from just wondering.

you’re not blessed like your brother. the oni towers over you, well over six feet. a mantle of bulging arms, broad shoulders, and thick thighs. he’s as big and intimidating as it gets but that aura quickly dispels every time he opens his mouth.

you on the other hand are thicker in other places, your chest, however . . . not so much.

you look down pathetically and think about all the colored tube tops that just didn’t fit you quite right.

what did you have to lose ? you’re pride maybe. you’re just as prideful as your brother, maybe even more, but the soft slopes of fat poking through your shirt mock you. they remind you that maybe you can afford to throw your ego away. temporarily.

you whine as your patience wears you thin.

murmuring a quick prayer to archons to have them spare you from further embarrassment, you bury your doubts in the back of your mind.

“I hate you.”

you lift your shirt quickly, just ripping the bandaid off.

you expose your breasts to the cool air and to surprised vermillion hues.

the longer he stared, the more you wanted to hide. of all the array of emotions you’ve seen, ( three ) you can’t pinpoint this exact one. it’s new to you. it borders on unbridled warmth, but then after a few seconds of your nipples perking from his gaze, it dithers. . . and then he fucking squints.

“so small.”

there’s a beat of silence and it takes that brief moment to even register that you did not mishear him. you’re not sure what you expected.

itto certainly isn’t the brightest and his emotional intelligence is nearly non-existent, and still, you’re taken aback by his talent to be consistently unaware.

you feel awkward and vulnerable in the middle of the room. you bared yourself to him, your insecurity right to his face, and the only thing he could do was confirm that you are indeed a small-chested oni. it shouldn’t bother you, but it does.

you liked to think you could handle the truth just as much as you bluntly dished it out, but this time you couldn’t.

a flash of white-hot anger runs through you at his audacity. you yank your shirt down eager to hide in your room and cry about your humiliation. you’ll write his name in big stupid letters in your fuzzy-covered journal and call him a big fat meanie. i for idiot, t for trashy , t for terrible, and a big fat o for obtuse.

“asshole !” you scream.

you can tell he’s surprised by your outcry. you glare at him hoping that he would turn to ashes on the spot, but unfortunately, he doesn’t.

he’s too busy panicking. he’s struck with the startling realization that he’s messed up again and that you were pissed.

so many times you’ve stomped your pink heels in anger and strutted away, mini skirt riding up with every step you took. and each time he reacts the same.

he tries to fix it.

he’s quick to react, immediately reaching for you in urgency. “w-wait wait wait wait ! where ya’ going ?”

“ oh, don’t you dare touch me you, oaf ! you think I don’t know that they’re small already ? why would you say that ?! “ you pull away more than desperate to increase the distance from him.

“hey hey hey. calm down, baby sis. m’not making fun of you.”

it takes his hands resting on your shoulders and the worried look in his eyes to make you come to a stop.

you lick your lips and take a shaky breath.

he’s right.

itto is many things but never a bully. he’d never say anything purposefully mean, no matter how much you bad-talked him. he’s kind and loyal but unfortunately, all the brains just happen to go to you .

“I didn’t mean to make ya feel bad,” he says sheepishly. “jus’ think they’re cute, that’s all.”

he releases his grip on you to scratch behind his head, eyes flickering to your chest again. a blush colors his face to a shade of carnations.

you’re a sweet girl with an unfiltered mouth that would bend to no one, not even to the archons themselves. and you were tearing him apart with that pout and your pretty nubs peeking through the fabric of your shirt.

he’s your big brother and he angered you quite a lot but, never deliberately. but this time he’s determined, for once he wants to ease your worries and not add to them.

he stands a bit closer brushing away a saltine tear that regretfully falls.

“If ya still want me to do it, I will. I think . . . it could work if I just do it hard enough.”

you don’t answer him but you don’t think you need to.

he searches your eyes trying to find any sign of disapproval. itto remains unsure, he’s never good at picking up on the small nuances of your emotions and so he tugs at your shirt in uncertainty.

still angry and embarrassed, you look up at his stupidly handsome face and relent.

“jus’ do it you big dummy.”

like everything else you expect him to handle you roughly. to rip your shirt and bite and suck at your nipples until they bruise under his touch, but he does the opposite.

his free hand travels around your sternum at first, surprisingly gentle. his fingers are soft when they circle around your breasts, tenderly flicking the flesh to watch them jiggle. he thumbs at your wide areolas, tracing the tiny bumps in complete fascination.

you grow uncomfortable at how intimate it felt. his eyes are blown wide, drinking up the sight of your tits rising with each shuddered breath.

“d-don’t play with them. jus’ hurry up n’ suck .” you leap at the opportunity to break the tension, but somehow you’ve made it worse.

as soon as the words leave your mouth, he responds just as fast. it nearly knocks the wind out of you when his mouth latches onto your breast.

they’re small but there’s so much flesh , so much chub that itto can’t stop playing with. his tongue laps at your left mound, licking underneath it, licking around it, and sucking at all the fat he can fit into his mouth. he’s noisy, grossly so . he groans and curses each time he has to detach his mouth from your nipple to come up for air.

“pretty tits taste s’good, “ he slurs. he can’t form the words, not when he’s desperate to fondle your breasts with his slippery tongue.

itto squeezes you so tight, it nearly hurts but you couldn’t dare tell him to ease up. there’s something hard rubbing on your lower stomach and you're scared to even dare to think about what it could be.

he slowly drags his rough flesh up and down your mound, shivering when your nipple grazes his appendage. his fingers grope at your waist and hips, palms nearly enclosing your smaller figure.

“f-fuck , you’re tiny. m’not hurting you, am I ?”

you don’t trust yourself to speak, terrified a moan would spill instead, so you shake your head.

he’s over two feet taller than you, pressing you into a corner and he has to remind himself that you’re his little sister. his dainty, spit-fire little sister who’s tits he’s currently mouthing on to rid her of her troubles.

he’d suck long and hard hoping your already perfect tits would someday be perfect to you. he wants to make you proud and show you he’s not just some rowdy oni. he’ll kiss and suck as long as you needed him to.

he tucks your nipple back into his mouth, puckering around the flesh like a sour candy.

you’re as pillowy and as delicate as he remembers. he almost forgot how he sinks into you. how his firm stomach settles into your soft one and he’s painfully reminded that his erect cock has been slowly rutting against you.

sucking your tits was riling him up. it was making him act in that brutish way that you hated, but he was trying so hard to keep from lining his cock with your opening and milking your cunt dry.

the oni has to pull away to gather himself. he takes the time to marvel at his work.

your right bosom is drenched in spit, puffy and swollen from his ministrations. he smiles.

“It looks bigger already, don’t ya think ?“

“shut it !”

another insult dies in your mouth as you're still catching your breath. an oni’s nose is extremely sensitive and you wonder if he could smell the arousal fermenting between your thighs.

“let me do the other one okay, baby. don’t want them to be uneven right ?”

“w-wait itto maybe we should s— eek !”

you need another moment of reprieve but you don’t get the chance. he puts the other tit in his mouth, tongue greedily flicking against the nub which tears a squeal from your lips.

itto is confident his methods will work just as sure as he’s about to blow a load in his pants.

“gonna suck your tits until they fatten up. isn’t that right, little one ?”

you mewl at the pleasure and the softness of which he utters a name he hasn’t called you in years.

“s-stop talking so much ! just be quiet and and —hnnn— stop teasin’ !”

he continues his assault on your chest, cock chubbing against his pants.

“m’sorry,” he slurs. “can’t help it.” his groans are fanning against your chest while he drools on your sensitive peaks. “let nii-nii take care of you . . just relax f’me. . . just take it.”

he’s hard. cums crowns his tip as he keeps conjuring up thoughts of wiping his cock over your tits, rubbing the head around your puffy brown nipple.

you smell good, you taste better and itto for once doesn’t care if you think he’s gross. he wants to milk your tits and suck until they become sweet little prunes , just so he can make it better.

your panties grow sticky as his sucks grow rougher. even if your breasts didn’t jump up a cup size you think that maybe this was worth it. to have him close, to have him drool and worship your tits and feel his cock straining against you.

his eyes closed, still nursing on your teat sweetly. your hand buries itself in his thick mane that draped over his shoulder smelling faintly of your shampoo.

it silently encourages him to keep going, leading to both of your undoings. the hand running through his hair tugs on his roots but then suddenly stills.

you see a brief flash of something and you gasp.

“itto why on earth is your dick out ?”

“can I put just the tip in ? please?”

[foreingersgod]

You’re Everything . CC

pairing: caitlin clark x reader

synopsis: caitlin clark is the best basketball player in the media right now and you can’t help but feel like you’re no good for her.

y’all i don’t even write (so sorry if this is actual ass), but the cc content on here is almost non existent lol. so i hope you all enjoy :)

my masterlist: here

college is extremely hard, and unfortunately for you, it has pushed you to your breaking point.

unlike your girlfriend, caitlin, you’ve never been the athletic type. typically confined to your textbooks and essays rather than on the court or out in the field. Your studies were incredibly important to you and you were GOOD at school, but by no means were you as talented as the caitlin clark.

you’re so proud of caitlin, truly. she’s come some far in her athletic career. she deserves all the praise and all of the awards and all of the support. but regardless all the praise and admiration you showered her with, you couldn’t help but feel like you weren’t enough.

books littered the covers of your bed, chemistry worksheets and math textbooks seemed to stack up to the ceiling. your fingers dug into your scalp, lightly pulling at your hair. you had midterms coming up and you were starting to panic. last semester, midterms and finals flew by like a breeze and you were able to hold a very high gpa, but unfortunately this semester you’re crashing and burning. you were falling behind on assignments, forgetting due dates, and failing exams no matter how hard you studied. caitlin constantly reassured you that you were doing amazing regardless of how different your grades were last semester, but it’s really easy to say that when you’re passing every class and making history in basketball at the same time.

tears threatened to spill from your eyes and it felt like you were going to faint from all this stress. as you were sloppily scribbling down equations and flipping through flash cards, you failed to hear constant knocking and the lock of your front door turning. heavy footsteps echoed up to your room and you knew all too well who they belonged to. trying to get everything in order before your girlfriend reached your room, you quickly wiped your tears away and fixed your hair.

“YN i’ve been texting you like crazy, did you not-” she began. “hey hey hey what’s the matter, baby”

caitlin immediately seemed panicked at your distressed state, rushing over to you and sitting next to you on the bed. her arms instinctively wrapped around you as you nuzzled your head into her neck to hide your tears.

“it’s nothing, i swear, im just stressed for my chem exam” you lied. “you caught me at a bad time i guess” you attempted laugh it off, pulling a fake smile into the side of neck.

she pulled away from you, hands moving from you shoulders to your face, forcing you to look at her. she seemed to be looking at you for hours, studying the pain on your face and the dullness of your eyes.

“baby this is obviously not ‘nothing’…i’ve never seen you like this. over anything”

it didn’t take long for you to start tearing up again. “caitlin, i…i really don’t know…”

you can’t even get the words out. it felt like your sentences were building up in your throat and suffocating you. a small whimper managed to work its way out of you before you broke down in tears. again, caitlin was all over you, confused and hurt because she doesn’t know how to help you.

“YN please, please talk to me i need to know what’s going on, you’re scaring me” she said, pushing loose stands of hair out of your face and wiping your tears with the sleeve of her sweatshirt.

“i just-” you began, hiccuping from your sobs “i just feel like a failure!”

and that started it all. before caitlin could even protest such as absurd statement, all of your feelings and insecurities came spewing out.

“caitlin i’m extremely proud of you, please know that. i’ve never been so astonished by someone’s talent than yours” you sounded hysteric, you were sure. “but i cant help but feel like i’m a failure compared to all the amazing things you’ve done. you’ve broken records and changed people’s lives…you’ve won the awards and the adoring fans…and again, i can’t even begin with how proud of you i am…but looking back at all the things i’ve done…i’m nothing. for fucks sake i can’t even pass a god damn chemistry exam or a math quiz without losing my fucking mind. i don’t leave the house cause i’m too busy studying and i don’t have time to hang out with our friends or hang out with your team. i can barely pass my classes this semester and i just feel like such a burnout.”

it felt like it all came out in seconds. “you deserve so much better than someone like me. i’m nothing”

the silence that filled the room was heavy and haunting. you worked up enough courage to finally look at caitlin, scared that she’d realized you were right and confirm your worst fears. but to your surprise, she was crying too.

“you’re everything” her voice cracked, barely managing to get the words out. “baby you’re everything.”

“what?”

“is this how you’ve really felt? like you’re nothing?” you avoided her gaze “YN i couldn’t even begin to tell you how amazed i am by you. forget me, look at you!”

“cait.”

“no, i’m serious. you work your ass off every single day. you study you do your homework you go to work, and you still find the time to shower me with so much love and attention. you pour your soul into everything that you do and of course it’s hard, but please do not sit here and tell me i deserve more than you because i need you more than i need air, YN”

it felt like you had no more tears to shed, overwhelmed with feelings. so instead you took your girlfriends face into your hands, forcing your lips upon hers. you could feel her hands meander to the back of your head, toying with the hairs at the nape of your neck as she pulled you into a much deeper kiss.

eventually pulling away for air, you rest your forehead against hers while she whispers gentle “i love you”s . you finally feel relieved for the first time in a while.

[pnghoon]

clay impressions

PARK SUNGHOON [성훈] ── 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓

୨୧ pairing : !nonidol hoon x fem potter!reader ꒰wc : 590꒱

୨୧ genre + content warnings : fluff, slight skinship, not proof read

୨୧ synopsis : in which sunghoon, the new guy in town spots a pottery club and joins because of the pretty girl he saw mentoring in the window.

writer's note ─ what the...juno's first ever work that isn't c.ai bot related??? this must be a dream.. (hehe im joking) anyways enough with the sarcasm--I finally decided to upload this story that's been in my drafts for a while. ik it's not what you're usually used to but lmk what you think of it and if I should continue >< if you enjoyed reading it, please be sure to like & reblog !! ♡

sunghoon hadn’t planned on joining a pottery club. in fact, he hadn’t planned on much beyond unpacking his boxes and finding the nearest coffee shop. but as he mindlessly wandered down the charming main street of his new small town, something—or rather, someone—caught his eye.

the large window in front of the small building cramped between a bookstore and a bakery offered a glimpse of what lay inside: clay-covered hands shaping a delicate piece, laughter echoing softly, and cozy lighting. but what truly captivated sunghoon was the girl behind the wheel. her hair was tied up in a messy bun, a few stray strands framing her face as she concentrated on the clay piece in front of her. she looked like a masterpiece in the making, even with all those smudged beige streaks on her cheeks.

without thinking twice and perhaps blindly urged by his smitten heart, sunghoon pushed open the door, the bell above chiming cheerfully. he approached the counter, trying to appear casual as he signed up for a beginner's class.

the next day, he found himself sitting in a circle of eager faces, dressed casual in a stone grey knit zip up—clay ready at hand. his heart raced when the girl from the window stepped forward, your features even more captivating in person.

"hi, everyone! i'm y/n, and i'll be your mentor for today.”

sunghoon's attempts at crafting anything remotely vase-like were laughable. his first piece looked like it had been crafted by a particularly enthusiastic toddler, another imaging more of a lopsided pancake recipe gone wrong. so—maybe pottery wasn’t his thing. he glanced around, hoping no one noticed, only to lock eyes with none other than you. you smiled, a glint of amusement in your eyes as you made your way over to him.

"need some help?" you asked, your voice warm and gentle.

"very. turns out pottery isn't my hidden talent," sunghoon replied with a soft sigh and bashful smile, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment.

you chuckled, your laugh like music to his ears. "don’t worry, you're here to learn right? let's start from the basics.”

as you slowly guided his hands with your own clay covered ones, sunghoon couldn't help but notice the spark in her eyes, the way your fingers danced with the clay like it was meant to be sculpted and formed with your delicate digits. through your gentle ministration and shared laughter, his lump of clay began to take shape, though it still resembled a vase only in the most generous sense.

by the end of the class, sunghoon had a crooked pot he was oddly proud of and a heart that felt a bit fuller. you handed him a wet cloth to clean his hands.

“not bad for your first try,” you spoke out, nudging him with your elbow as you stared down at your clay-stained apron. “with a bit more practice, you might even make something useful.”

sunghoon grinned, feeling a flutter of hope. “i guess i’ll just have to keep coming back then.”

you couldn’t help but crack a smile at his words, eyes sparkling with amusement. “i guess you will.”

and as he left the studio that day—he swore he saw your gaze on him through the window. suddenly moving to this small town felt like the best decision he’d ever made, and if learning pottery meant more time with you, he was more than ready to become the next great potter.

or, at the very least, the guy who made you laugh.

𝓢igning off... @penghoon

── 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 [OPEN 🗯] @onlyhees @amouriu @greentulip @enhluv1 @samiikeu @hoonwhile @dearrwoni

[enihk-writes]

[someone older]

pairing: older!multi-fandom men x gn!they/them!reader

reader is written to be in their early twenties, under twenty-five and fresh out of uni with their first degree and no corporate work experience.

summary: shorts about old men and a younger beau to-be

content warning: big age-gap relationships // superior-subordinate power imbalance // possible infantilization // some form of saviour-complex // (some unintentional) manipulation

characters: zhongli (genshin impact) // neuvilette (genshin impact) // jing yuan (honkai star rail) // tang gunak (return of the blossoming blade) // dokgo (return of the mad demon) // chongyue (arknights) // shamane (RE:1999) // hiromi higuruma (jujutsu kaisen) // ryū (gokurakugai)

author's note: my lovely oomfs i need yall to look away and pretend im doing okay,,, the demons and the little voices in my head have won and taken over..... i have to make that middle-aged man pregnant so so so so bad it's terminal... (head in hands)... OUGHHHHKKKGSHHH (coughs blood and straight up dies)..... looking at the list here i really have a type huh....

[PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION! I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY TRIGGERS CAUSED BEYOND THIS LINE]

ZHONGLI who had lived for long enough to have seen and experienced almost everything one could see, was still taken aback when he felt a familiar throb in his heart as he conversed with the new face of the artisan's alley. a fledgling who had just left their nest and was beginning to make their way into the world — your naivety much unlike your more seasoned neighbours who knew how to set the prices of their goods to gain the maximum profit. you were often tricked and scammed out of selling your wares at their proper price, too scared to stand your ground and disrespect your older customers. the former archon couldn't bear to see a budding talent, such as yourself, sell themselves short out of expected social courtesy. he often found himself buying your highest-priced works even if he had to empty his entire wallet. you were beyond grateful for his patronage, even offering a commission, free of charge. that's just how bad business was before he stepped in. oh you poor thing, now that he knows how easy it was to get you dancing in his palm, how could he let you meet better opportunities? he was your lifeline, the only way you were going to make it in this career you chose. and you better not forget that.

NEUVILETTE knew that he shouldn't be so enamoured with the new hire. really. a being who had been alive for as long as he falling in love with someone thousands of years their junior? he wanted to rip his hair out. the chief justice approached this predicament as he would with almost anything he deemed annoying — avoidance. sending you out on errands that kept you out of the office for the whole day, giving days off to everyone if there was nothing on the agenda, having you go sort out documents in the filing room, and a whole host of other things that made sure you and him wouldn't cross paths. once he had a clearer mind to sit down and think, he is immediately riddled with guilt. weren't his actions akin to that of a black company employer? you on the other hand, could not be happier to hit the jackpot. good pay, regular days off, responsibilities that didn't require you to rack your brain too much. this was everything an energy-saving adult like you could ever want. it must be nice to frolic around and stay blissfully unaware while your boss was in the middle of a mental breakdown alone in his office.

JING YUAN was a calculating man, despite the commonly held belief that he never really took things too seriously. he kept a rather consistent air of nonchalance so impenetrable that it annoyed you whenever you couldn't discern what was on his mind at that moment. your after-hours hobby these days was to drop by the community starchess club and play a few rounds with the people there. and who else was waiting there at your seat every day? your damned boss. the elders who were there swooned over the handsome general, remarking about how you and him made a great pair — much to your chagrin. the man would always send a blinding smile in your way as you got closer, even going so far as to help you settle down. the routine was always the same each night. you would play against him for at least five rounds consecutively, lose against him in almost every single match, play against the other club members, gather your things and go home for the day. the general would also coincidentally be done with his activities. he offered to walk you to your front door, you've learnt from the one time you refused that the general was unusually talented in pulling an extremely sad, pathetic, wet and kicked puppy face. unfortunately, you were too nice to reject him further. ah, but now that he knew of that weakness of yours, you'd better expect that he would be pulling the same trick again soon.

TANG GUNAK felt that he was far too geriatric to be feeling this way. especially when he had adult children of his own. the youngest of whom was only a few years older than you were. a talented person, emerging at the top of your class in the academy meant that the world was your oyster. so why had you decided to come down to sichuan and work as an aide in this family? the patriarch had no clue, and he certainly didn't know how to even bring up the question. at first, he had hoped that perhaps you and one of his children would be wed but as time passed, it became increasingly obvious you were not interested in them at all, rather you had set your sights on the patriarch himself. him? the widower? the poor man who had only felt the touch of his dead wife? he was very scandalised that the young aide of his house was so open about their attraction to him. however, it seemed nobody in the household was on his side. not even his own flesh and blood. though for all that forwardness, he never expected that you would be so hesitant and shy when you were alone with him. it was endearing how you became more diligent whenever that happened, how you would engross yourself in your work just to pretend he wasn't there with you. the next time he looked up from what he was doing, you were passed out on your desk. he moved over to carry you back to your quarters — it was deep into the night right now anyways, so nobody would see him with you in his arms. he tucked you into bed, leaving as quickly as he came. the glimpse of his own flushed face in the reflection of the window never left his mind the rest of that week.

DOKGO had agreed to follow his disciple to town only because said disciple was going to throw a tantrum in his courtyard and the older man was not in the mood to deal with the adult child. the master pretended to not be acquainted with his own disciple when the man began to flirt with the women passing by. he walked on and sat down at a vacant bench in front of a teahouse. his troublesome disciple eventually shook off the girls clinging onto him and joined his master at the table, a string of apologies falling out his mouth when he caught sight of the older man's disapproving glare. only when the younger man offered to pay did the old master's hardened expression fall softer — fine, he said with a grunt. the second headache of the day came in the shape of you, a wandering merchant, or so you said. you slipped in to sit next to the master after the disciple had graciously allowed you to. not like the older man could oppose when there weren't any empty seats in the vicinity. while the conversation was lively as you talked with the disciple about your travels, he could only focus solely on the callouses of your palms, something a merchant who says they are not a martial artist shouldn't have. you had noticed his scrutinising gaze, throwing him a quick grin as you continued the chat with his disciple. oh? he could only wonder what that was about. shame that his dull, blockheaded disciple had let that slip past him. the master wonders if he should up the training regime when they get back.

CHONGYUE was up and early, as he usually does, leading the daily morning exercise with the other operators. the doctor not being there was somewhat expected, but you going missing? that was a first. when the morning exercise was over, he headed up to your room to check on you, finding the door slightly ajar. cautiously, he walked into the dark room, you had a bag of junk near the entry, from the looks of it you were living off cup noodles and soda, again. no wonder you were now curled up in bed all sick. he might have to give you an earful later, but for now, he puts aside your laundry and took out the trash. he goes down to the canteen, ordering some warm chicken porridge and even stopping by the nurse's office to pick up whatever he thinks you might need. this time, you were now somewhat awake. grumbling and muttering complaints under your breath from the disturbance, he helped you sit up. you insisted on feeding yourself, but he would have none of it. you could only comply and open your mouth wide every time he brought the spoon to your lips. you finished the food and even took the medicine obediently, earning praise from the man himself. before he left, he rubbed some medicinal balm on your stomach, layering warm blankets and patted you back to sleep, reciting an abbot's chants as he did so. the nostalgic feeling was comforting. you should thank him when you got better — maybe he might be interested in a popular classic novel from your home country, or should you try your luck with the lacquer pots instead?

SHAMANE spotted a figure hunched over the running stream near his hut as he was out collecting the fresh water he would need for the day. when they didn't answer his calls, he walked over, not too worried about whether the figure was a dangerous critter or not. the snap of a twig had them spin their head in his direction — that's when he met your eyes. you both stared at the other, sizing each other up. when he decided that you were not a threat, he introduced himself with his signature smile. you did the same, albeit quieter, still a little peeved from seeing a large bearded man in the middle of nowhere. friendly as ever, he kept the conversation going. he talked about himself, he asked about you, and so on and so forth until you finally admitted to him that you had gotten lost in the mountains, also you had twisted your ankles. he pointed to his hut and asked if you wanted to rest in there until you got better, how could you say no? the month when you lived under the same roof as him passed by quickly, and soon enough it was time for you to go back down the mountain. when you both parted ways at the entrance of the village, there was an air of reluctance in saying goodbye. you promised to write to him, maybe even visit him. he only laughed you off, not expecting much to come out of that. though when he received his sister's letter not long after, he thought about taking you with him to his hometown. but ah, isn't visiting each other hometowns a thing expectant newlyweds do? well, he could always pretend he didn't know about these things, couldn't he?

HIGURUMA was pretty friendly with the tenants renting out the office space next door. all of whom were fresh design school graduates trying to start a business together. you were the one he's grown the most familiar with, the unofficial boss of the company and the one who was single-handedly juggling your own practice along with other administrative duties. he helped you where he could, the doors to his own law office always open to you — even in the wee hours of the night. you would sit cross-legged on the big swivel chair as both of you engrossed yourselves in your respective work with the boxes of takeout splayed all over his table. when it was late enough that you missed the last train, he drove you back to your apartment. and everytime you sat in the passenger seat, he would reach over to pull the seatbelt on for you. you could have done it yourself but how were you supposed to pass up the chance to have him come this close? enough to even catch a whiff of his cologne? the lawyer himself knew that you were capable enough to do something this simple, but he couldn't help but enjoy the way you tried not to look at him as he did this each time. the ride back was quiet and serene, your tired body sank into the plush of his car seats and soon you were knocked out cold. even when you were both already parked outside your residence, you still wouldn't rouse. he clicks the seatbelt off you, even going so far as to push the seat back so you were lying more comfortably. you've done this enough times where he has a blanket to cover you with as he waited for you to wake up. which you would, and feel so ashamed. he thinks about how cute you were babbling out your apologies and thanks, all while scrambling to pull yourself together and out his car. only to repeat this whole song and dance the very next night.

RYŪ was a bit of a recluse. never really leaving his room unless it was for a really good reason. which was rare, and by rare it was almost never. but a human had to eat, shit and get clean — which was where you came in. as the designated errand runner for the organisation, you were the one that ended up having to take care of that guy's day-to-day needs. you might have hated him at first, with how picky he was with his food, even the brand of his necessities had to be the exact right one. doesn't matter if the stock ran out, you had to go out there and haunt for a place that still has it or else he wouldn't even entertain your presence. the one good thing you had going about you was that you were adaptable, learned things quick and was light on your feet. if things went south, you always had a backup, and a backup for the backup, you get the idea. the man, mayhaps out of the other's insistence, but you liked to think that he had warmed up to you, started to initiate conversations. at some point whenever you brought him his meals, he would make you sit and watch him eat. at first, you didn't know what to talk about, but then you also started bringing your own lunchboxes to eat alongside him, and you talked his ear off about what you made that day. over time, you both fell into a routine and on days when he's kept you a little too long with him, you'd stay over and crash on his couch. and after more time had passed, he's already got some of your clothes together with his in the wardrobe. hell, he even bought a bigger sofa just so you could sleep better whenever you stayed over. give it more time and who knows, you might end up moving in completely, not that this old hack would mind too much.

[simonsrileyhusband]

Hi, I love your writing and I think you're so talented!!!!

I was wondering if you could please write something where Price comes back from a mission and he has to bring the boys with him because they won't be able to make it to their own homes that night. But the boys didn't know that Price has a partner and kids (if you want)

And you can go from there if you want. Pretty please

Have a great day and remember to drink water🩷

the sound of the door opening wakes you up, it didn't surpise you, you knew he was coming home tonight. but the other whispered voices confuse you, scare you a bit.

you stand and hear a heave steps walking down the hall, opening the door slowly, infront of you, John stood tall and tired, he lets out a sigh and you run to hug him.

"welcome home" you whisper as your hands run all over his back.

"hi darling..." he whispers and kisses your cheek. "the boys are here, they didn't have a place to stay, too far..."

"its okay, theres food in the fridge for you... maybe enough for them too" he only lets a hum and grabs your hand, leading you to the livingroom.

"leave that there-" a strong british accent scolds someone

"he has a partner" someone whispers, as the out back the photo of both of you back into the shelf

"boys" John speaks softly yet sternly, the three younger men turn to look at him, some (soap) more surprised than others. "my boy" he says as he points at you with his whole palm

"wow, uh, hi" the scotish guy spoke "im So-... uh, Jhonny" he says and then smiles

"Kyle"

"that's ghost" John whispers in your ear and the quiet guy with the balaclava nodes at you

"hi... i have heard a lot about you all, nice finally meeting you"

"what? why havent we heard of him?" Johnny says as he looks at your husband

"you'll hear about him while we eat, now go wash your hands" he mumbles as he points at the bathroom at the end lf the hall. they all move in a line, following his command even out of the field.

John grabs you by the waist and kisses your lips softly "missed you..." he whispers and you hug him back.

"i did too"

"sorry about the boys, they leave tomorrow at first hour"

"no, no, we can have breakfast together"

"mhm, okay... how are the kids?"

"kids?" John blunts out

"shut it" Ghost grumbles and punches him on the arm, the three boys were standing quietly behind the counter.

[eunwonji]

💿 • 𝓱𝓾𝓰𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮

𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓫𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻

☆ chan x idol au f!reader fluff

☆ established relationship

☆ y/n is worried that when she helps chan produce she keeps messing up

☆ TW : hugging, kissing, flirting, self doubt , pet names , angst, crying , y/n breaks down

chan and you loom over his laptop ,it’s 3 am, this is the 3rd time this week u have been up this long with chan. do you mind? not a single bit, in fact you cherish every moment seeing your amazingly talented boy friend perfecting the songs for skz’s newest release. even if you don’t say this to a single soul, you have got to admit chan in his cozy hoody, beanie, perfect chocolate brown curls slipping out of it and his bare face, is just perfect to you, hot even.

he passes you your signature light pink gel pen as he asks, “y/n baby, can you see if you can help me write this verse? i just can’t seem to get it right.” “of course channie” you answered back reassuring him you will make the perfect verse, you stare at the paper, reading over chan’s lyrics. you grab your note book writing down multiple ideas then stare at it further more, again re writing your ideas, an extra word maybe, a ryhme or maybe even a completely different line, you think to yourself, intill you give up. you scribble it out ,causing the paper to tear. chan hears the massively loud rip of paper, he immediately spins his chair to face more in your direction.

“baby are you okay?” he inquired full of care as well as plenty of worry, “yeah yeah, im fine. my finger slipped and i accidentally ripped the page sorry my love” your voice full of doubt and anger, anger at yourself for not being able to write a song, who even were you if you couldn’t write a song? did chan deserve someone as truly utterly talentless as you? thoughts raced through your head, your eyes slowly welling up. until you broke, sat there next to your boy friend, wondering if your even good enough to be his girlfriend, or as he always swore his future wife.

he immediately grasped you in his arms, his heat pulling you back to reality. “y/n? i know your aren’t ok please just tell me what’s wrong?” he asked trying to stay calm and composed. he hated seeing you like this. you didn’t say a single thing, not even a single shake of the head, you just further nuzzled you head into his chest,still sobbing. chan grabs the notepad discreetly while he still holds you close. he reads between the scribbles as well as he can.

“y/n angel, this all can’t be about your writing, right? your song writings amazing and perfect just like you, please just look at me baby” he whispers whilst he besties a sweet gentle kiss on your temple. you finally look up, when he gives u get another kiss, further snaking one arm around your waist, the other around your shoulder.

“im sorry baby… im sorry that i just can’t write anymore, you don’t deserve this im sor-“ you remark, only to be shushed by chan like always .”no no y/n, do you know how much i love you, how special you are to simply put it, your irreplaceable. i’ve never loved another the way i loved you baby. please never say that, your perfect, talented, beautiful and so sweet, please never forget that!” he insisted, deeply saddened by the thought of you thinking so low of yourself, lifting your face up slightly. “i literally adore you, your my forever and always my love. im so so lucky to have you, you could of picked anyone else, but you picked me and that just makes me the luckiest and happiest boy ever, babe” he mentioned affectionately.

you two should there for a minute, blushing, yet still intertwined.

when finally he sat you down on his chair, crouched down, whispering in your ear, “i love you y/n please don’t forget that”. you immediately cocooned him in a hug constantly showering his face with kisses, intill you were out of breath. “i love you too chan, i love you more than you will ever, ever know”

🤍

ー　by 　bealidoscope 🌱

comment below to join tag list!!

💿 @hyuneskkami

[hoonieyun]

score: love!

secret admirer

pairing: lee heeseung x reader "y/n"

warnings: profanity, cheating allegations, not much but always 18+

ignore time stamps and any possible typos lol - this chapter is partially written, please make sure to read the written portion to fully understand the story!

wc: 1352

heeseung nervously walked out of his car and towards the decelis lounge. the automatic doors whirring as he enters, taking a gander at the lounge to see if he could find jinsoul and sure enough, there she was sitting towards the back; already staring at heeseung who stood at the entrance looking like a deer in headlights. 

“heyyyy, jinsoul. how are you?” heeseung asks, awkwardly wiping his sweaty hands on his shorts. jinsoul urges heeseung to sit and although he was reluctant, jinsoul urges him that she’s not there to yell at him. this instantly calms heeseung down and just before the two are able to have their talk, a waiter asks what heeseung would like. he opts for an iced peach tea as he watches jinsoul sip on a cup of hot green tea. 

“so, what did you wanna talk about?” heeseung asks and jinsoul lays it out simply. she’s worried about yn and heeseung knew where this was going. “look, i know i fucked up and im trying to fix it-” heeseung says but jinsoul cuts him off. “that’s not what i’m talking about. i’m confident you guys will fix your issues but i think someone is trying to fuck with her…” jinsoul explains and heeseung is confused at her words. 

“fuck with her? like eric?” he asks and jinsoul shrugs. “i’m not sure. someones been texting her these weird messages and at first we thought it was just a prank, it’s starting to feel a little targeted. it has some stuff about the two of you.” jinsoul says, pulling her phone out to show heeseung the screenshots of the text messages yn had been receiving. 

heeseung is shocked at the messages and he couldn’t believe that there was a photo of him and chaewon when she cornered him into being late to practice, the whole reason why you weren’t talking to him right now and was so upset at him for. “wait… this number looks familiar.” heeseung says, pulling out his phone to see if the number was in his contacts but it didn’t match with anyones. 

“this is fucking insane. who the fuck would do this…” heeseung asks and jinsouls shrugs. she explains that you’ve been going through it lately and these text messages are only making things worse. not to mention that argument the two of you got into because of missing practice. 

“that wasn’t my fault! i know i blew up on her but chaewon was the reason why i was late. she cornered me before i could leave my house and parked in front of my driveway so i couldn’t leave.” heeseung began to explain while jinsoul listened attentively. 

he explains his history with chaewon; heeseung has always known who yn was. she was the promising and upcoming tennis prodigy when they were teenagers and as jake’s best friend, they were bound to know each other. as yn got better and better and found more opportunities to play tennis, heeseung couldn’t help but admire her and her talent, but her beauty as she played tennis, it was something different. something ethereal and majestic. 

heeseung had developed a crush on yn that only jake knew about but as time went on, you had become unattainable because you just seemed so out of league. at some point, you had started dating eric and to suppress heeseung’s feelings for yn, he started dating chaewon. 

the two pairs later became rivals in the mixed doubles tennis scene and the incident that led to your hiatus due to your injury. heeseung was gutted knowing how much he had hurt you, physically and mentally. he felt a level of guilt that he had never experienced before and knowing how much chaewon loathes you, he felt even worse. 

the year before your return, heeseung had started secretly sending you flowers and letters filled with positive affirmations and words of encouragement. jinsoul’s face shifts from intently listening to shock when she realizes that the flowers you had been receiving was from heeseung the whole time. you and your friend group would often make jokes or guesses on who your secret admirer was and now that jinsoul knew, she felt like things were falling into place. 

chaewon at one point caught heeseung dropping off the flowers at the hospital because her sister had worked there and this led to a big fight between the two. chaewon claimed that heeseung was cheating on her and her hatred for you only grew from there. there was no other reason behind chaewon’s anger towards yn besides the fact that she felt you took the success she deserved. yn never understood this because the two of them trained together and maybe if chaewon focused on her training instead of her hatred for yn, she’d be at a better place than she was now. 

soon after your injury, eric had dumped you because you were no longer of use to him. he had said that he couldn’t keep you around because you were “dead weight”. this only added to your constant pressure and weight of not being good enough which only fueled your anger towards heeseung: the cause of your injury. 

heeseung never stopped feeling guilty, even when he would fight back on you and claim it wasn’t his fault, it was only his ego speaking because deep down heeseung wishes it was him instead of you that had to deal with the pain and agony. 

chaewon had threatened to breakup with heeseung if he ever did anything like that or even looked in your direction and because heeseung couldn’t afford to lose his girlfriend and tennis partner, he ultimately stopped and pushed his love for you deep down into the depths of his heart. like it was simply a candle that was constantly fighting off being inevitably blown out. 

the day before registration for this year’s tournament, chaewon had caught heeseung scrolling on your twitter when you had announced that you were returning to competitive and professional play and chaewon blew up. yelling obscenities and accusations at heeseung and not even letting him get a word in before ineveitably breaking it off and leaving heeseung stranded and alone without a tennis partner just one day before registration. chaewon knew this would only lead heeseung back to her but it inevitably backfired. 

although heeseung admits that he did only want to be your partner so that he could get chaewon back, he eventually realized that he truly wanted to be your partner because he wanted to get closer to you and show chaewon that he doesn’t need her. 

“so that’s where i am now…” heeseung says, finally finishing his drawn out timeline of how he got to where was now. 

“holy shit… god what is wrong with straight people…” jinsoul says. 

“wait… you’re gay?” heeseung asks and jinsoul looks at him like he had just said something stupid. “oh if you thought i was straight you are highly mistaken…” she says but heeseung quickly moves on from the topic. 

“look, i appreciate you wanting to talk; if this in anyway helps me fix my issues with yn, i’ll be grateful. i don’t expect you to tell her everything and fix it for me, but just know i want to fix this just as much as i want her to win.” heeseung confesses.

“don’t you mean, as much as you want the both of you to win?” jinsoul asks and heeseung shakes his head. “no… i want her to win, i don’t care about winning unless she wins.” he says, taking a sip from his peach tea and standing up to walk away. heeseung glances at his watch and sees he’s got to be at practice soon so he heads to his car to grab his gear and makes his way to the court. 

jinsoul watches as heeseung gets further away, although she used to be as angry as you in regards to heeseung, she definitely has a better idea of what was happening. this could only be the start of something great, she thought. smiling to herself as she pulls her phone back out and opens the groupchat. 

masterlist - backhand - forehand

tennis commentator: finally... FINALLY. heeseung has confessed and it seems that yn is quite smitten as well. now the questions is: who is behind the unknown number?

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all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned.

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