#and someone just thought that they didn’t exist?

[inklessletter]

Of bows and ducks 🐤

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(Ficlet 👇🏻👇🏻 👇🏻)

[W: 1.6k - Rated M: Chrissy's POV, angst, eating disorder, abusive household]

Chrissy Cunningham wears bright eyeshadows because it distracts people’s attention from her crooked teeth.

Chrissy Cunningham wakes up half an hour before to curl her ponytail to create the impression that she has more hair than she actually has.

Chrissy Cunningham wears oversized clothes because it creates the illusion that she’s smaller.

Chrissy Cunningham has been shaving her legs since she was eight years old.

All of Chrissy Cunningham’s underwear is cotton white, and her mother cuts all the decorative little bows off.

Chrissy Cunningham hasn’t slept more than five hours at night in years, because perfection takes time.

Chrissy Cunningham hasn’t finished any meal since she was eleven, because it makes her look exemplary to her parents’ friends when she says she’s full before finishing, even if she's still hungry.

Chrissy Cunningham’s mother taught her all of this.

So, it’s safe to say that every morning, when she wakes up from yet another short sleep, Chrissy Cunningham doesn’t know who Chrissy Cunningham is. She feels like her own skin isn’t hers, it’s just some character that her mother has carefully created, and it’s a role she can’t break free from. 

Chrissy Cunningham doesn’t exist, not really.

Her friends don’t talk about this. They occasionally whine about the food or their body size, but they always take a few minutes to look at themselves in the mirror of the school restroom to style out their hair, or to put some make up on that they have to hide from their parents. 

Chrissy hates mirrors, because she always has the supernatural feeling that her reflection is someone else’s, but it was starting to get suspicious that she didn’t even put lip gloss, so she bought one last summer at Starcourt mall. 

She liked the mall. It was one of the few places she was allowed to go with her friends without her mother’s scrutinizing eye on her at all times. She used to side eye that one lingerie shop, wondering if she would ever wear one of the lacey black panties.

Well, not actually those, but something that is not white. Hell, if she was honest to herself, she would settle for just keeping the little bows. She’d settle for her mother not manipulating her intimate clothes.

She thought of stealing a pair of hot pink panties, but she’s too much of a coward. 

There’s something Chrissy’s friend used to do every time after shopping, though, and it would later keep her awake at night out of pure guilt. They would go to the ice cream parlor. She couldn’t buy an ice cream, actually, because her mother always counted the money and made her give it all back, then asked for the receipts, and she couldn’t just see one of an ice cream because that’d mean that she won’t have dinner for the following week (unfinished meals every night are better than no meal at all).

But she would go there, anyway, and let her friends engage with the Harrington boy so they could get a discount from him, and she’d glance more than once at the display of several flavors behind the glass, fantasizing how many scoops she’d have, or which ones she would choose, and then, with no fail, the other cashier, Robin Buckley, from school band, would come to ask which one she wants to try. It makes Chrissy feel naughty, she always picks a different one, but buys nothing. 

That happens several times. She tries not to think how sad it is that this little thing is actually thrilling. Something so small that makes her feel like she still exists.

Robin’s in uniform but she manages to own it. Her shoes are scribbled all over, she wears a lot of trinkets, little chains, silver (her mother doesn’t let her wear silver, just gold), her hair is cut unevenly, and looks like she tried to make highlights at home with cleaning bleach, and her smudge eyeshadow seems to be done with her finger.

Chrissy likes that so very much. Robin shows through the uniform. She slips through the cracks, like yelling at the world that Robin exists, that Robin is.

It’s not nice to compare, but she looks at her group of friends and thinks that they all… they all kind of look the same. And they worry about the same silly stuff that seems ordinary but is out of Chrissy’s reach, like parents not going for a weekend so they can sneak their boyfriends in.

They all share that they won't see Chrissy, either. Not really.

Not ever.

Because they are all the same person.

That’s an unkind thought.

Maybe Chrissy is unkind.

Then the Starcourt mall burns down and it feels like a divine intervention for how secretly petty she is when she’s there.

It happens in July, and since Chrissy’s mother won’t let her go to any parties, she starts training near the school for when the cheerleading season begins again, and that’s when she meets Jason Carver. 

He’s on the basketball court and she’s running laps. They steal glances and that’s exciting, because the boy is beautiful. His smile looks like  the prologue of a tragedy and she falls in love with that feeling. They exchange more than glances and smiles and she wants things she never wanted before. It all fades into the blur of a far away memory right when school begins and they trade hot kisses and love bites for holding hands in the hallway. 

She feels nothing for him when Chrissy realizes Jason loves the curated version that her mother has made out of her, not actually her. He loves that she’s girly, and perfectionist with her looks, that she’s fit and petite, that unnatural lovely hair swirl, that she wears cute colors on her eyelids and that she always leaves fries for him whenever they go to a diner. 

Nothing.

And what’s about her to love, anyway? Who is Chrissy Cunningham? She’s just—

She is just gone.

Maybe she was never there to begin with, inside this tight suit of skin and heavy bones she wears everywhere.

She keeps avoiding the stranger in the mirror when she realizes she only can see what her mother sees wrong in her, or she can only hear the comments of Jason about her bony hips that one time they were at the backseat of his car. Chrissy knows how to do her makeup without using the cursed mirror, she knows how to style her hair without it, and it’s weird, that’s why she always helps the coach to store all the stuff they used, coming into the dressing room after her team, and fakes to take more time in the shower after practice, to be the last one to leave. To dress herself with the profaned underwear without looking at it, to reconstruct the image she hates so much and not having to put a smile upon her face while she fades away one day more.

That time she’s not alone when she comes in, all sweaty in her uniform.

There’s the ice cream girl, Robin. They had band practice and she was the only one who actually took it seriously about practicing with the stiff jacket of the uniform for an upcoming rally. She heard the rehearsal from the gym.

Robin hasn’t seen her yet, and Chrissy just can’t move. Robin is listening to something that she’s humming to in her walkman, that she stops with a loud click and puts away, unbuttoning her shirt.

Something is happening inside Chrissy when she sees Robin’s ducky bra.

A ducky bra.

Sky blue background and a god damned yellow ducky pattern.

Chrissy has never in her life seen something like that. That looks… Okay, that doesn’t even look the right size. Maybe it’s from past years and she still uses it. It looks comfortable, though, even if a little old.

It has the little, bright orange bow between her breasts.

She gasps audibly, and Robin spots her.

They lock gazes and Robin actually looks like a deer caught in headlights. Pink cheeks, big, blue eyes focused on her.

She’s so gorgeous without even trying. She always has been.

Chrissy is in a strange chokehold. It has to be nice to be someone, she thinks to herself, and not being afraid to exist.

They talk, but Chrissy’s not even paying attention to what she is saying. She’s only looking at Robin, and Chrissy must have said something funny because Robin laughs. She can’t look away, notice Robin’s cheeks growing darker, her hand accommodating her hair behind her own ears, the low conversation taking place in an empty space.

She does remember asking Robin if she could kiss her, though.

She does remember standing there in silence before their mouths meet halfway, experimental and new, soft and wet.

Chrissy hears herself whine in Robin’s lips, and dares to ask for more. Begs Robin to touch her and she’s feeling Robin’s cold fingers around her waist, lips locking, mouth opening, tongue curling around hers.

Robin is chatty, but Chrissy doesn’t mind. She spares a few words here and there in between kisses, and then Robin whispers to her ear, over, and over again, “I saw you. At the mall, I saw you. Every time.”

Chrissy gasps and kisses her again, grabs her hair, puts her body against her, skin touching skin, they fall to the floor and keep kissing until her lips are sore and someone opens the door of the locker room and they both hid from that uninvited person to keep kissing in silence, which was rather hard, but ultimately thrilling and funny. 

It’s hours later, under the safe covers of her bed when she realizes that for a little while she actually felt her skin as her own. And that’s new, that’s fresh. 

Thrilling. Something so small that makes her feel like she actually exists.

Maybe Chrissy wasn’t gone after all.

Maybe Chrissy Cunningham actually exists.

[ikeuki]

four-letter word / 니키

( pairing ) nishimura riki x fem!reader ✶ highschool au, one-sided enemies to ??? ; fluff/crack, cursing — ( wordcount ) ?

ᯓ★ ikueki’s note. based off of tom’s monologue in ‘500 days of summer’ when talking about “hating” summer! this fic is from my old stranger things acc: @scwheeler (IT IS MY OLD ACC / MY WRITING) it was for mike wheeler originally…!

synopsis. riki can’t figure out his feelings towards you; he thinks he hates you but is it really hatred if he can’t get you out of his mind?

nishimura riki hates you.

he stared from across the classroom, watching you with crossed legs and back straight. you tapped your number two pencil on the wooden desk repeatedly, making a quiet yet annoying sound. it bothered him so much, only adding to the mental list of things he hated about you.

rather than staring now he was glaring. but he sat behind you and a couple rows over which meant you didn’t even notice. continuing to annoy him without a single thought.

he pressed down his pencil into his notebook until the lead snapped, making him also snap out of this trance. he looked down at his empty paper with a dark lead circle in the middle. he ripped out the sheet and crumpled it up, debating whether to throw it at your head or into the trash can.

he probably had a better chance shooting it at your head than landing it in the trash can according to his sports record but he refrained because your hair looked nice neat.

riki wasn’t suddenly choosing to be sympathetic or anything but he wasn’t a complete asshole.

or he thought of himself not to be. it must’ve taken you all morning for those bouncy curls and he knows how mad his sisters get when riki occupies the bathroom for more than thirty minutes before school. so he kept the crumpled paper and shoved it in his backpack, agreeing he’d either throw it to your head another day or throwing it away at the end of class.

“mr. nishimura—! i asked you a question, what is the answer to the question on the board?” the teacher asked in a stern tone, hands on his hips and trying to get riki’s unbothered attention.

riki quickly looked away from you, hoping you didn’t see him staring straight at the back of your head. you turned around from your seat to look at him as did the rest of the class.

he was out of it—a little preoccupied with thinking about something else, more of someone else.

his paper was blank. other than the crumpled up one he just shoved in his backpack. did he have notes on that page?before he could mutter an excuse or guess and pray to the gods he was right, a hand rose up in front of him.

it was yours…?

your arm popped up and attracted the teachers attention. “yes, ms. y/l/n?” he asked, now trailing his burning eyes away from riki and softening them towards you. unbelievable.

“if riki can’t answer it, i’d gladly do it myself,” you replied softly.

you didn’t speak in a sarcastic or rude manner. riki almost wished you did so then he would have a reason to hate you. but your tone was sincere like you wanted to help him.

“sure that would be great, go ahead,” the teacher proceeded and let you come up to the board. you took your notebook with you, it was covered in bright stickers and shiny gems matching your appearance.

riki watched as you sat up from your desk, the school uniform clinging to your body to fit your slight curves. he could’ve sworn the uniform’s skirt was shorter than you had on.

wait what—! why was he looking at your body or your uniform, nevertheless your existence…!

you picked up the small white chalk and wrote down your answer, copying your equation from your notebook. the class watched but riki observed. he thought about how you saved his ass from getting yelled at the teacher. why? after finishing the equation, you went to return to your seat. but before sitting down, your eyes met riki’s, flashing a quick smile.

in the brief moment, riki looked at you stunned. you didn’t wait for his reaction though and turned back to the teacher’s lecture. he shook his head, whatever. he hated you.

——

i hate her crooked teeth.

——

if he hates you so much, why was he up at three in the morning still thinking about your stupid smile. your pearly white teeth almost blinding him in the middle of math class.

his eyebrows knitted together and his eyes pierced through the ceiling of his bedroom. what was your problem? you didn’t do this to any other person in the school? you left everyone else alone—his classmates, his friends, his enemies—so why did you chose him? was this a punishment?

riki groaned and flipped to his side to face his bedside table, looking at the alarm clock reading 4:27 now. he spent almost four hours just thinking about you and it infuriated him. he liked girls before, girls in his class, girls on the tv, girls in his favorite movies. but he never stayed up thinking about him until this late hour.

also, he liked those girls! they were pretty and hot! he didn’t find you attractive or anything, so what made you so different?

was it your smile? it wasn’t even that nice! he’s seen better smiles in the newspaper and he could say his mom has a better one. yet you were the only thing on his mind and riki couldn’t stand the feeling.

he turned left and right, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep but it was no help. by the time, his eyelids were finally about to shut, they were disturbed by the bright light of the sun coming up. he hated you so much.

——

i hate her 1960’s haircut.

——

the next day at school, riki slung his backpack over his shoulder and waited at his friend’s locker. he agreed to meet heeseung before soccer practice afterschool and it wasn’t the first time the older boy was running late. riki didn’t mind all that much. if anything it meant an excuse to be late for practice, especially since heeseung was the coach’s nephew.

the only unfortunate thing about going to his locker was that yours was right next to it.

he managed to avoid bumping into you almost everyday. weirdly enough he tracked down your exact schedule with classes, meet up with friends, and when you needed your mid day snacks to get through the day.

heeseung commented on it one time, saying his uncalled “hatred” for you seemed more and more like a crush instead. riki almost blow a fuse right then and there in the middle of the soccer field. heeseung hasn’t mentioned it ever since.

unlucky for riki, you were quite an unpredictable person. most of the time you were walking with your usual friends, stopping by your locker to get your bio and calc textbooks. but on the rare occasions you were alone, you spent the entire passing period leaning against the metal wall texting away on your little phone.

this forced riki to hide behind the corner, peering over from time to time like a creep to wait for you to leave. he was even late once or twice just going to his locker at you finally left when the bell rang.

when his teacher asked why his eyes slowly trailed to you, who stared back at him innocently. unknown that you were the reason why he was late and got detention, for the fourth time now.

he could only shut up and take the yellow slip from his teacher. sliding into his desk in the back and staring out into the window in annoyance. why did he need to avoid you?

today was worse. worse than riki could ever imagine. he headed for his locker after fifth period and watched as you walked down the hall to your cheer practice as you always did afterschool. again, a little weird how much riki knew about you. anyways. he hurried to his locker and put in the code, opening it quickly. he grabbed a couple of his textbooks needed for homework and his soccer bag.

as soon as he closed the locker door, he almost had a heart attack. you were standing right there with you back facing him looking into a small magnetic mirror attached to the door of your locker.

you were applying another layer of strawberry chapstick, the one you carried everywhere and put on during first period, third period, and right after lunch by your locker.

so he was definitely surprised to see you standing right in front of him, puckering your lips and looking into the mirror. completely oblivious of riki standing behind you with a shocked expression saying ‘what the fuck!’ you didn’t even notice him staring at you for a full on five minutes.

riki would never admit it but you weren’t such an eye sore as he tried to convince himself all last night.

you were actually nice to look at. well-rounded and cute features that complimented your face. your hair was right in front of his face, the fruity fresh scents of strawberry and peach shampoo filling up his senses. without him even knowing, riki’s frown turned into a small smile.

your perfectly formed curls with a white headband, all sitting nicely on your shoulders made you look like a character from a 60’s cartoon. they moved side to side as you checked yourself out in the mirror, putting riki into a trance. but he snapped out of it as you put the cap back on of your chapstick, signaling him to return to his main goal: get to practice on-time.

he kept his eyes forward and tried to play it cool. walking down the hall, he just prayed you didn’t catch him ogling you for the past ten minutes.

unfortunately, by the time he got to the field, the coach had already started warm-ups and without the excuse of heeseung’s presence, riki only earned the team four extra laps to run. which no one was happy to do. god—how much he hated you right now.

——

i hate her knobby knees.

——

heeseung informed riki that the whole soccer team was required to attend the school’s pep rally as a part of the athletics committee. wanting to spend his friday night off doing better things (aka playing video games in heeseung’s basement until four a.m.), he continuously urged his friend to sneak out.

“what if we just slip out during the principal’s speech?” riki suggested to an unamused heeseung who already accepted his fate.

“if we get caught—our asses are DONE FOR. my uncle’s gonna kill us and definitely tell my mom.” heeseung seemed dead serious about refusing riki’s request, leaving the younger boy to only sit on the bleachers and wait for the soccer team to be announced.

after what felt like hours of speeches and addresses by the principal, teachers, and staff, a bunch of school-color, short uniforms filled the gym. it was the school’s cheerleaders, girls and boys all wearing color coordinated uniforms with scarily happy smiles plastered on their faces.

a single face stood out to riki. one that’s been distracting him in class, keeping him up at night, and keeping him in the hallways. his eyes immediately fell upon you, disregarding the other twenty girls and guys wearing the same outfit. you were the only one that caught his eye and he couldn’t tell why. was it cause of the locker interaction earlier today?

you were skipping in with a cute grin on your face, those stupid pearly whites blinding riki once again. you had pom pom in your hands, waving your arms in the air and saying hi to the crowd.

you didn’t spare riki a glance even once, unintentionally of course—how could you see him in a sea of hundreds of students! but he didn’t mind. at least it meant he could stare at you the entire time the cheerleaders introduction was happening.

what surprised riki was that you walked to the center as everyone got into formation. you were center stage. your smile was warm and lit up an entire room, the entire crowd beginning to feed into every word you said. when you said “go—!” they said “—team!”

then music suddenly started to play and the cheerleaders started a routine. one that you guys probably practiced a million times before. riki could see the nervousness in your face, hiding behind that smile you held so proudly.

he noticed your knees, you had skin tone band-aids all over them. underneath were obviously bruises, cuts, maybe even scars. people might’ve thought they were ugly but riki couldn’t help looking at them.

not like he was a sadist or anything but the bruises made you look more real. like you weren’t just another carbon copy of these cheerleaders who had perfect lives and appearances like the girls surrounding you.

you were different. something about you gave riki a hint that there was more to you than being a shallow popular girl.

you wouldn’t make fun of the so-called losers with the jocks behind the science building during lunch, their cheerleadering girlfriends joining in just because they can. or disregard the entire meaning of attending school to just dance in a tight outfit and fluffy pom poms in front of the entire school.

no, you were nowhere near those areas during lunch, riki saw you spending the time in the classroom, taking a nap to catch some extra z’s before the last two classes of the day or listening to music and researching choreography for the cheerleaders. in class, you always participated. you paid attention and studied, even helping the other struggling students in your free time.

maybe it was the way you helped him yesterday morning, answering his question and cutting off the teacher’s potential wrath. or you simply smiling at him the moment after.

either way, he found himself clapping for you after you finished your dance, enjoying your performance and rather disappointed to find it so short. heeseung was confused, wasn’t riki just giving suggestions on how to sneak out of here five minutes ago? now he was smiling and clapping like his own girlfriend was out there dancing in front of the crowd?

why did you make riki feel this weird? this good feeling he had whenever he saw you? he had to force himself to hate you to avoid his true feelings from spilling out.

and then, riki realized what the indescribable feeling—that takes over him as a whole every moment he lays his eyes on you—really was. he didn’t hate you.

he hated how you made him feel.

[hashslashgrl]

Blue Lock Boys’ first time making you finish

NSFW! 18+ content

All characters aged up.

Featured characters: Nagi, Isagi, Rin

Warnings: fem!reader, sub!reader, switch!nagi, softdom!isagi, toxic!rin, FWB

Another request for my lovely friend 🤍 as always, leave some requests if you enjoy this ( ◠‿◠ )

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Nagi Seishiro ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

☾ Nagi may be lazy, but he most certainly wasn’t lazy when it came to you.

☾ You showed the boy what it felt like to orgasm by someone else’s manipulation.

☾ He had tried pleasuring himself before after hearing Reo talk about how much he’s missing out on, but ultimately decided it was far too much of a hassle for something he wasn’t much interested in.

☾ Until you showed him pleasure.

☾ That moment for him completely reformed his idea of intimacy, longing more for your touch and wanting to understand this feeling.

☾ When Seishiro heard the whimpers escaping you from just the touch of his large hands, littered with coldness that spread through you as his fingers curled inside you. He knew he loved this feeling.

☾ It took you by surprise, because you didn’t even have to tell him what to do. He kind of just tried what felt right in the moment and (judging by your body’s reaction) he was naturally good at it. But I guess he was born with talent in more than just soccer.

☾ As he creeped his fingers deeper inside you—touching something within you you didn’t know existed—he began to wonder if he loved this more than anything he knew.

☾ That was when you reached your peak.

☾ Shaking with pleasure, you held onto the white haired boy, grasping for something to hold in this moment. Anything to bring you back to earth as your hot core throbbed around the cold fingers within you.

☾ Nagi, feeling your relentless grip upon his back combined with the heat of the moment, both of you breathing in and out taking in what you had experienced, knew what his new high was. And it was trembling beneath him.

🧩 ~•*🧩*•~ Yoichi Isagi ~•*🧩*•~ 🧩

• You and Isagi had actually been in a relationship for a couple months before he made you finish for the first time.

• When he first found out, he was understandably embarrassed.

• He mostly went through the motions of how he thought sex should go until the two of you became more comfortable talking with each other about your needs.

• What you didn’t know is that finding out that one simple confession from you would change him from that moment on.

• It took some trial and error, but the more he learned, the better he got.

“does that feel good?”

“tell me where you want it baby.”

“i want you to wrap your legs around me when you want me to go faster.”

• Yoichi had always been vocal during sex, but it had never been this needy. He wanted—needed to improve. The thought of you not sharing his high with him made him ache.

• One hand enveloped in your hair, one hand holding your waist, and all of you resting on his lap, he thrusted within you, searching for the missing piece.

• He could feel himself nearing his own climax.

• In that moment, you felt all of him within you, and he was damn eager. Looking at this beautiful boy who held you, sweat beading beneath his black hair, determination in his eyes as he held your head to ensure you maintained eye contact with him.

harder.

faster. you thought

• This moment was more intense than it had ever been with Isagi, and you liked it.

“I’m close.” he moaned with desperation in his eyes.

• You could feel it within yourself, and you knew he was searching for that too. You wanted it as much as he did. As his hips began to slow and hitch, you leaned back, tightening your legs around the boys waist.

• That was when he did it. Holding back his own release, he grabbed your waist, throwing you back onto the bed.

• His pace quickened. Your breath was lost. All of the sudden he was deep within you, again and again faster than ever.

• You hadn’t even noticed until after the fact that you were in the midst of both of your climaxes.

• Isagi didn’t need to ask if you had finished for the first time. He could feel it. The final piece of his puzzle had finally been completed.

Itoshi Rin.

❖ It didn’t take much for Rin to make you finish.

❖ He drove you crazy, constantly brushing against you or whispering in your ear as if he didn’t know how much it turned you on.

❖ The amount of nights you touched yourself to the thought of him was something you would never admit.

❖ But Rin had made it painfully clear that he was focusing on his soccer career. The only experience you had with him was in your imagination.

❖ Until that night.

❖ He had texted you insisting he needed to be in your presence.

❖ A frustrating game had left the Itoshi brother a mess, looking for a way to work through his frustration.

“look are we doing this or not.”

“if you can’t handle being friends with me after this then i understand.”

❖ While there was truth in his words, the sensation within you couldn’t be ignored, only to be aided by your own touch in the midst of a lonely night, any longer.

❖ It happened fast. He was somehow stronger than you had imagined. Larger than you had imagined as he positioned your hips on the edge of his bed, practically tearing the clothes off your body.

❖ As soon as he finished putting on the condom, he was inside you, all at once. It was enough to make you throw a hand over your mouth, desperate to not make it obvious how often you thought about this exact moment.

❖ His pace was fast, and he was going hard. Eyes darting between both the wall behind the headboard and himself, pressing within you.

❖ You liked that you could help him work through his frustration and finally reach that aching sensation within you.

❖ When he began to reach his climax, his cadence changed. And now he was slowly thrusting, and deep.

❖ You couldn’t hide the sounds of your excitement anymore. The breathiest moans were coming from within you as you felt yourself pulsate.

❖ Just then, he pulled out from within you. Leaving you a shaking mess on his bed.

…

“did you finish?”

“i worked through some things.”

“i’ll drive you home after i shower.”

❖ You weren’t sure if this was what you really wanted, but you had felt something you never had before. And the fact that Rin had that power drove you crazy.

[nomie-11]

Chase After You

masterlist! | part 2 | part 3

synopsis: vi swears she doesn't have a soulmate, you swear that your soulmate is a masochist. Turns out you do exist, and turns out Vi plays hockey

pairings: vi x reader, lowkey ellie x dina

Your soulmate must have been an absolute idiot. 

Caitlyn said that he “or she, I don’t discriminate,” was probably a masochist because every day it seemed you woke up with another bruise or another cut. You couldn’t even count the amount of times you had woken up in the morning with a concussion—it was a miracle your soulmate was even alive at this point. 

“I’m just saying,” Caitlyn continued as she leaned against the counter of the campus coffee shop where the two of you had made it a ritual to meet after your clinical rotations. “Whoever they are, they’ve got to have the worst luck—or they’re actively looking for trouble.” 

You sipped your coffee, wincing as the hot liquid hit the tender inside of your lip. A split lip, courtesy of your soulmate, who had clearly been in some kind of fight last night. Again. 

“Maybe they’re a professional fighter,” you mused, though you were only half-serious. “That would explain all the bruises.” 

Caitlyn snorted. “Or just clumsy.” 

“Clumsy doesn’t explain the frequency, Caitlyn” you countered, setting  your coffee down. “If they’re not in some sort of contact sport, then they’re probably fighting for their life every day. Literally.” 

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You sure you didn’t end up with some sort of action hero? Like, next thing you know, they’ll show up at your rotations bleeding everywhere, and your soulmate bond will suddenly light up in a dramatic fashion.”

“Very funny,” you muttered, though the thought lingered. You were in your second year of nursing school, constantly surrounded by patients—maybe Caitlyn wasn’t too far off. But the soulmate connection was supposed to be this once-in-a-lifetime, world-shaking thing, and you’d never felt anything remotely close to that. 

The coffee shop door chimed, and a gust of cold air swept through as someone stumbled in. You didn’t look up at first, too focused on scrawling notes in your planner about your upcoming rotations. But then Caitlyn’s voice dropped into a low, surprising whisper. 

“Uh, okay. Forget clumsy. I think your soulmate might actually be a hockey player.” 

You glanced up, curious, and froze. 

Standing at the counter, looking half-dead but still smirking like they’d just won the lottery, was Vi, the captain of Piltover University’s Women’s Hockey Team. You didn’t know her personally, but you knew of her—how could you not? Every gay girl within a twenty mile radius knew of her. She was hot. From her cocky grin to her colorful undercut, which always seemed to peek out from beneath her helmet, there was no doubt about it. 

But that wasn’t what made your breath catch. It was the way your chest tightened, how everything in the room seemed to quiet for a split second. 

Then the pain hit. 

You instinctively touched your ribs, feeling a sharp ache that hadn’t been there before. At the same time, Vi winced, her hand going to the exact same spot. Her gaze flickered toward you after searching the coffee shop, her blue eyes narrowing slightly, like she was trying to figure something out. 

You felt Caitlyn’s hand on your arm. “Oh my god,” she hissed. “It’s her, isn’t it?” 

“No!” You bit back, immediately averting your eyes. “No way.” 

If you don’t see her, she doesn’t exist. 

—-------------------------------------------

Vi was convinced she didn’t have a soulmate. 

She had no visible soulmate mark, no timer and—besides her own—no tattoo. She didn’t see in black and white, didn’t have a red string of fate. It didn’t make any sense, the only explanation being that she doesn’t have one. 

Her friend on the hockey team—Ellie—had suggested that maybe it was a feeling soulmate mark. Maybe she was supposed to feel sick when you got sick, or maybe she was supposed to feel hurt when she got hurt. But she never felt… anything. 

That is, until the migraines started. 

It had been two weeks of relentless, skull-splitting pain, and Vi was on the verge of losing her mind. She’d never been the type to care much about school, but even hockey practice was becoming unbearable. The bright lights of the rink made her head pound, and the noise of her teammates shouting felt like nails being driven into her skull. She didn’t dare tell Coach—she had enough to deal with trying to keep her captaincy without giving them a reason to bench her. 

But she couldn’t hide it from Ellie. 

“You’re rubbing your temples again,” Ellie said as she sprawled on the locker room bench, laving up her skates. “What, you suddenly got old-person headaches or something?”

Vi shot her a glare. “They’re migraines. And it’s not funny.” 

Ellie’s smirk faltered, replaced by a frown. “Okay, but, like… you don’t just start getting migraines out of nowhere. You stressed or something? Got some secret essays piling up that I don’t know about?” 

Vi let out a frustrated groan, dropping her helmet onto the bench with a clatter. “I don’t know, Ellie! It’s not stress, okay? They just came out of nowhere, and I can’t get rid of them. I’ve tried everything—water, sleep, painkillers—nothing works.” 

Ellie tilted her head, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully. “Huh.” 

“What?” 

“Well…” Ellie dragged the word out as she tied a perfect knot. “You don’t think this could be, like… soulmate related, do you?”

Vi scoffed, folding her arms. “What? No. I don’t even have a soulmate.” 

Ellie gave her a pointed look. “You don’t know that. Just because you don’t have a mark or whatever doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. There are, like, a million different types of soulmate connections. Feeling someone else’s pain is totally one of them.” 

Vi blinked, the idea sinking in despite her best efforts to shrug it off. “So what? You think my soulmate is walking around with migraines 24/7? Who the hell stays up late enough or is dumb enough to dehydrate themselves this much?” 

Ellie grinned. “Exactly the kind of person you’d be soulmates with. You’re a trainwreck magnet.” 

Vi rolled her eyes, but the knot of worry in her chest didn’t go away. “Even if you’re right—which you’re not—I don’t know who it is. How am I supposed to fix this? Walk around asking random people if their head hurts every time mine does?” 

Ellie snickered. “You could start with that cute girl from the coffee shop. The one who was staring at you like you were some kind of mythical creature last week.” 

Vi stiffened. “What girl?” 

“You know. Black sweater, big eyes, looked like she wanted to crawl under the table when you caught her staring.” Ellie’s smirk widened. “She bolted so fast, I thought she might leave a cartoon dust cloud behind.” 

Vi groaned, her hands dragging down her face. “You’re impossible.” 

Ellie shrugged, grabbing her stick and standing up. “Hey, I’m just saying. You’ve got migraines, she looked like she was about to faint—sounds like a soulmate connection to me.” 

“Ellie, drop it.” 

“Fine, fine.” Ellie paused by the door, grinning back over her shoulder. “But if she shows up at your next game, you owe me a drink.” 

Vi glared after her, her headache suddenly feeling worse.

————————

Your day had started out pleasant. 

You woke up on time, didn’t have a splitting headache or a new bruise, and had your fresh and folded laundry waiting for you from the day before as you finally pulled yourself out of bed. Even Jayce and Caitlyn seemed to get the ‘good day’ memo—the two of them swinging by your apartment with coffee before the three of you headed off to class. 

It was nice, until it wasn’t. It all went downhill when the throbbing started. 

It wasn’t your usual soulmate-related ache—no split lip, no bruised knuckles, no sudden stab in your ribs. This was different. Familiar, but different no less. A dull, creeping pressure that started behind your eyes and spread through your skull like a slow wave. By the time your second lecture had started, it was unbearable. 

“Are you okay?” Caitlyn asked, leaning over from her seat. Her voice was low enough not to draw the professor’s attention, but the concern was evident. “You look pale.” 

You pressed your fingers to your temples, trying to will the pain away. “Migraines,” you muttered. “Really bad one.” 

Caitlyn frowned. “You went to bed early last night.” 

“Apparently, that doesn’t do anything for me anymore.”

You barely made it through the rest of the lecture. By the time you were packing up your things, Caitlyn was hovering like a worried mother hen. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to skip clinicals today? Jayce can take your rotation, you look like you’re about to pass out.” 

“No, I’m fine,” you insisted, though your voice lacked conviction. “I’ll just grab some water and take something for the pain.” 

Caitlyn didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push further as the two of you made your way out of the lecture hall. 

You thought you were doing a decent job of toughing it out until you practically walked right into Jayce in the hallway as he excited his pathophysiology lecture. 

“Whoa, you good?” he asked, steadying you when you stumbled slightly. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

“Migraines again,” you mumbled again, brushing him off. “I’m fine.” 

Jayce gave Caitlyn a questioning look, but she just shrugged. 

The rest of the day was a blur. The pain didn’t ease up—it never did until you went to sleep—and every bright light or loud noise seemed to stab through your skull. By the time you reached the coffee shop for your usual post-clinical ritual, you were barely holding it together. 

Caitlyn was mid-sentence when the door chimed. 

“Do you think it could be stress? Your migraines never used to be so bad—”

Her words trailed off, her expression shifting to one of disbelief. 

“What now?” you groaned, not bothering to look up. 

Caitlyn’s hand gripped your arm. “Don’t freak out, but she’s here.” 

“Who?” 

“Don’t be an idiot. You know who.” 

You blinked up at her, confused, before following her gaze toward the counter. 

There she was again—Vi. This time, she looked even rougher than before, with dark circles under her eyes and a visible bandage peeking out from under her sleeve. She had her fingers pressed to her temples as she leaned against the counter, waiting for her friend to finish ordering. 

And then it happened. 

Your headache, which had been a steady, unrelenting pressure all day, suddenly spiked. A sharp, blinding pain shot through your temples, and you let out a quiet gasp, clutching your head. 

Across the room, Vi froze, and her friend immediately snapped up. 

Her gaze hit yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. The pain in your head mirrored the way her hand shot up to press against her temple, and her eyes widened in recognition. 

“Oh, no,” you whispered, panic setting in. 

Caitlyn’s eyes darted between you and Vi, her mouth falling open. “It’s her. It’s definitely her.” 

You scrambled to your feet, heart racing. “Nope. Not happening.” 

You bolted.  

“Hey! Y/N!” Caitlyn hissed after you, but you didn’t stop.  

The door slammed shut behind you, and the crisp evening air hit your face like a slap. Your heart was pounding, your migraine screaming in protest at your sudden movement, but the overwhelming panic drowned it out. You didn’t know where you were going, only that you had to get away. Far away.  

Unfortunately, the universe—or more specifically, Vi—had other plans.  

“Wait!”  

Her voice was rough, loud enough to cut through the noise of the street and send a fresh wave of adrenaline coursing through your veins. You didn’t look back, breaking into a full sprint.  

Behind you, you heard heavy, determined footsteps.  

“Oh, come on!” Vi groaned. “You’re really gonna make me chase you?”  

You didn’t answer, too focused on not tripping over your own feet. The ache in your legs spread quickly, your lungs burning as you pushed yourself harder.  

“Damn it,” you heard her mutter, closer this time. “You’re not even good at running!”  

“No one asked you!” you shouted over your shoulder, breathless and desperate.  

Vi let out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re serious? You’re yelling at me while running away?”  

“Yes!”  

She groaned, and her footsteps quickened. “You can’t outrun me, you know. You might as well stop before you pass out!”  

Her voice was closer now, and you risked a glance back. Bad idea.  

Vi was gaining fast, her long legs eating up the distance between you with ease. She wasn’t even winded. Meanwhile, you were gasping for air, feeling like your legs might give out any second.  

“Leave me alone!” you shouted, panic edging into your voice.  

“Can’t do that!” she called back, her tone surprisingly light for someone who was literally chasing you down. “You’re my soulmate, remember?”  

Those words sent a jolt through you, and you stumbled slightly, your pace faltering. That split-second mistake was all she needed.  

Vi caught up in a flash, one strong hand wrapping gently around your wrist as she slowed to a stop. You tried to pull away, but she held firm, her grip steady but not painful.  

“Let me go!” you gasped, twisting in her grasp.  

“Hey, hey!” Vi said quickly, holding up her free hand in a gesture of surrender. “Relax, okay? I’m not here to hurt you!”  

You glared up at her, chest heaving, and she met your gaze with an almost apologetic smile. Up close, she looked even rougher—dark circles under her eyes, a fresh cut on her lip, and that same bandage on her arm.  

“Look,” she said, her voice softer now. “I get it. This is… a lot. Trust me, I wasn’t expecting to meet you today either. But running away? Not the best idea.”  

“Why not?” you snapped, still trying to catch your breath.  

Vi smirked, the corner of her mouth twitching upward. “Because I’m an elite athlete, so now you’re even more exhausted, and I’m still here.”  

You glared at her, unsure if you wanted to scream or cry. “What do you want from me?”  

She blinked, her expression softening. For a moment, she looked almost shy, which was wildly unfair given how confident she’d been five seconds ago.  

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I mean, I didn’t even think I had a soulmate until, like, two weeks ago. And then today, bam, migraines, and here you are.”  

Yuo stared at her, dumfounded, and still too overwhelmed to make sense of her words. “That’s not an answer.”

Vi sighed, releasing your wrist but saying close enough that you couldn’t just bolt against. “Okay, fine. I guess I want to… figure this out. I mean, we’re soulmates, right? So maybe we could just… start there?” 

“Start there?” you repeated, incredulous. “You don’t even know me.”

“Exactly.” her lips curved into a small, lopsided smile. “Let’s change that.” 

You opened your mouth to argue, but the way she was looking at you—earnest, a little nervous, but stubborn enough not to let you push her away—made the words catch in your throat. 

Caitlyn’s voice rang in your mind: Whoever they are, they’re probably a masochist. 

Vi seemed to read your hesitation as a crack in the wall you’d been trying so hard to keep up. She tilted her head slightly, her blue eyes locking onto yours with unnerving intensity. 

“Look,” she said, her tone gentler now. “I’m not asking you to, like, fall into my arms or anything. I just want to get to know you. No pressure, no expectations. What do you say? Coffee after your next rotation? My treat.” 

You hesitated, your heart still racing. “Why should I trust you?” 

Her smile faltered, and for a split second, you saw something raw in her expression—something that made your chest tighten. She winced slightly, rubbing the back of her neck. “Honestly? I don’t know how much longer I can handle these migraines, so we need to find a cure or something.” 

That earned a startled laugh from you, despite yourself. “So, this is selfish.” 

“Totally,” she admitted, grinning now. “But if it gets me a chance to spend some time with you, I’ll take it.” 

You studied her for a long moment, torn between wariness and the tiniest flicker of curiosity. Finally, you sighed, crossing your arms. “Fine. One coffee. After my next rotation. That’s it.”

Vi’s grin widened, and for a moment, you were struck by how bright it was—how it softened the sharp edges of her features. “Deal.” 

As she stepped back to give you space, you realized something strange: your headache was already starting to fade. Grabbing a random business card from her pocket and a pen from another, she scribbled down her number and lightly shoved it into your hands. 

“See you around,” Vi said, giving you a little wave before turning and jogging off down the street. 

You watched her go, still unsure if you’d just made a huge mistake, or taken the first step toward something you couldn’t even begin to understand.

this is the first part in a three part series! read part 2 here! reader part 3 here!

If you enjoyed this one shot, please check out my other series!

[sungiescheotluv]

am i the asshole? ⭑.ᐟ lee jeno

pairing: lee jeno x gender neutral reader

word count: 2.1k

tags/warnings: fluff, meet not-so-cute turned cute, (excessive) swearing, crack (if you squint - or read any of my fics really 😭)

summary: things are looking up for you - a promotion at work propels you into a new, more extravagant apartment that has all you need and more. too bad you forget to look down.

notes: hi hi, i'm back with a new fic! it's been really fun to crank out all these fics in such a short amount of time :) i usually spend a stupid amount of hours mulling over word choice and reading too much into things, which i've tried to abandon with this blog and just write whatever inspires me and makes me laugh honestly. i'm not sure if this is funny for you guys, but i enjoyed the care-free time i had writing this and hope you enjoy it the same reading it! wishing you all the best and thank you, THANK YOU for all the love on my fics! it means so so much to me 🥹💗

also, this fic wouldn't exist this prompt list from @corvase so big big thank you to them! much love! <3

If there is one word to describe Jeno, it’s doting. 

Ever since the moment you two met, you’ve been living a life of luxury. Not necessarily in terms of monetary means (except for the very pretty promise ring Jeno got you a few months back), but in more valuable, sentimental places. Someone by your side that treasures the ground you walk on, someone that makes the effort whoever big or small, someone who’s totally and utterly obsessed with you. For so long, you thought you had your head in the clouds, imagining such a love as an abstract, fictional thing. Like it could never materialise beyond the limits of your mind and yet, there it is. Three years ago, the love you’d wished for on many stars, many birthday candles - right in front of you. 

You meet in a rather…unconventional way. Nothing shady or anything, but it’s a bit of a blunder in comparison with the wholesomeness of your relationship. You’d just moved into your new apartment building, your new promotion uplifting you as the future brims bright. You’d seen it in person before getting the keys and your jaw dropped every time. Admittedly, the office assisted with most of the expenses to keep you in close vicinity of the main building, explaining the lavish skyscraper of a building. Marble floors, polished elevators, key-pad locks. To you, someone who didn’t come from much, this was the high life. A merit your family let you know you deserved for all your efforts over the years, whether it was in academic ventures or familial affairs. Either way, as you are driving through the front gate, the security guard tipping his hat at you, you’re beaming with glee - nothing, and you mean absolutely nothing, could ruin your day. 

Except this.

For someone so accommodating, you lacked understanding (and patience) for what you, in a flare of anger, called ‘stupidity.’ Unfortunately for you, this is one of those moments. Pulling up to your assigned parking space (underground, might you add), your eyebrows furrow at the sight before you. There’s a car in front of you making an awkward turn, almost as if they don’t know where they’re going. Maybe they’re new like you, you reason. Your understanding drains from there, as the car goes back and forth, turning its wheels and frankly, looking like a hot mess. You try not to be an asshole, because drivers deserve some grace, especially Learners judging by the large ‘L’ on the back of their car, but just as you’re about to offer some help, you squeal.

The learner attempts to manoeuvre out the tight space it’s wedged itself into, having to reverse generously due to the sheer size of the car and in doing so, it nearly rear-ends you. If you hadn’t had the sense to put more distance between the two of you, the front of your car would’ve been mangled. This time, you honk, a slam of the hand on the steering wheel as you yell, “The fuck are you doing!”

The driver offers an apologetic hand out their window, somehow managing to squeeze into the parking spot they’d been trying very hard to get into. As grateful as you are for the stupid ordeal to be over, a pout forms on your lips as you squint at the parking spot the driver’s parked into. 

Your parking spot.

You’re out of your car before your brain registers, the slam of the car door accompanying the echo of your loud voice as you say, “That’s my parking space.” 

The driver hoops out of their car, a large grey hoodie shrouding their face as they step into view. Under the fluorescent lights of the barren car park, the stranger reveals their face, shadows enveloping the sharp edges of his high cheekbones and jawline. You nearly lurch back, because what the hell? Why is the driver you’d nearly had an aneurysm over unbelievably hot? Handsome? Cute?

At this point, you’d throw a whole dictionary full of words to describe how attractive he is, his pink lips folding into an apologetic grin, bowing to you deeply. “Is your car ok? I’m so sorry. It’s my first time driving this big ole thing - it’s the only car I could fit all my belongings in.”

Then, you see it. Items, belongings cluttering the pick-up truck, and if you really look, you’re pretty sure a pillow’s obstructing his sight from his rearview mirror. 

You exhale, a wave of sympathy drowning the fires of your annoyance. “It's fine, thanks. Just a word of advice, you shouldn’t be driving with something blocking your rearview mirror.”

Why did you have to tell him this? If he's a learner, surely he 1) knew this and 2) had someone in the car with him.

Just then, the passenger front seat opens, another figure in an oversized black hoodie coming round the vehicle. Were they-?

“Jeno, you forgot your dog treats in the-” the passenger cuts themselves off at your presence, lowering their hood to reveal another handsome face. What is this? A traveling circus of hotties? How many more were hidden in there? “Oh, hottie alert.”

Instantly no. 

In the face of a man also sculpted by the Gods, with his big brown eyes and irresistible smile, you scowl. Maybe even vomit a little in your mouth because did he just say ‘hottie alert’ about you…in front of you? 

Nevermind you calling him that first.

“You’ll have to excuse him,” the stranger - Jeno, you’re assuming - looks even more embarrassed, shuffling to shield the glaring ogling his friend does. “He’s got no filter. No sense either, now that I think about it.”

“Since when did the samoyed become the owner?” you make out his friend say, in a headlock that he forces himself out of with a bite through Jeno’s sleeve. 

Samoyed? Owner?

The longer you watch their bickering, the more confused and honestly, more annoyed you grow. A promotion and new apartment, what is meant to be an upgrade from your previously cramped but friendly neighbourhood, only to find yourself caught in the middle of a quarrel. With some themes of petplay, too, you weren’t sure.

All you know is that you’ve got a long day ahead of you, and they’re prolonging it by snatching your parking space. 

“Sorry to interrupt but,” their heads turn at the sound of your voice, having the decency to look embarrassed as you continue. “You’re parked in my space. I’m D7. So, in case there’s been a mix-up-”

“Thing is, sweetie,” Jeno’s friend addresses you, the latter hanging his head in shame. “Unfortunately, someone’s parked in our sweet Jeno’s place. We’re on a bit of a tight schedule, and your space was the only one avail-”

A car honk makes you jump, your head on a swivel, mortified to find a car behind yours, luckily trying to exit the underground space.

Now you look like the asshole.

You huff, exhausted already. “I’m gonna let this car through, and we’re going to solve this, alright?” 

They both nod, the enthusiasm that Jeno nods with earning a fond smile from his friend, Jeno’s sleazy partner ruffling his head of long black hair.

In the end, when you’ve circled back, the person parked in Jeno’s space comes out and profusely apologizes for the inconvenience, citing an emergency they had to take care of and since Jeno’s space was free and close to the building, they snagged it. So, you get your parking space back, a small victory. Jeno’s friend, who notices you’re moving in too - Jaemin is his name - offers his help, to which you politely deny, catching the pure apologetic nature in Jeno’s shiny eyes. 

Minor blunder. A small thing in the grand scheme of things, nothing worth losing your mind over.

Except when you’ve managed to heave your first few belongings to your apartment, the door next to yours opens, Jaemin’s bright smile greeting you as he says, “Oh, I’m definitely coming over to yours more often.”

So, yeah. Not that romantic - your first meeting.

Heck, even your second and third meeting isn’t too great because on one exceptional morning where you’re running late, you collide into Jeno on your way out, your possessions and fingernail flying in the air. You’re lucky your nail-bed remains unscathed, but not so lucky the days following that when you’re walking in the open courtyard of your apartment building, out for some fresh air, time to decompress for the mounting work you’re quickly submerging in.

You’ve got your headphones on, noise-cancelling ones you got for Christmas - how nice. What isn’t nice is that you miss the yell behind you, and the strange texture you step onto. Your body freezes, nose twitching from a foul smell that wafts upwards and when you gaze down to your shoe, you find the worst. The absolute worst.

Shit. Huge, putrid clumps of shit.

It’s so shocking that you slip your headphone off down to your neck, deciding between screaming or crying. Your decision is cut off by a familiar voice, yet again so apologetic.

“I forgot her bags upstairs. I didn’t think anyone would…” Jeno cuts himself off, eyebrows pinched together like he may cry. “Can I-can I do anything for you? Wash your shoe? Scream? Disappear into oblivion?”

“All of the above.”

He chuckles, the furry friend he’s accompanied by nudging their wet snout against your hand, smiling at you like there are no thoughts behind their eyes. Your eyes flicker between the dog and Jeno, the white samoyed eerily similar to his owner.

Was this what Jaemin was referring to when you first met?

“Don’t worry about her, she’s harmless,” he comments, the ghost of a grin appearing against his face. “Except when she takes a dump.”

You have to laugh. Otherwise you’ll cry. “Too soon?”

“No, no - I needed that actually,” you sigh after your fit of chuckles. “Today’s been…well, shit.”

“You don’t say,” Jeno muses, handing over the leash his dog is on. “Do you mind?”

You take it without a word, securing his furry friend as he slips off one of his shoes, bending down near the scene of the crime. Without a peep, he cleans around as best as he can, undoing your shoe and casting it aside, slipping his one on your foot.

“Well, I can’t scream because it’s non social hours,” he leads, wrapping your shoe in one of the bags. “And as much as I’d love to disappear into oblivion, I’ve got a shoe to wash.”

He then hesitates, parts his lips like he wants to say something. There’s something adorable about his loss for words, how his gaze is downturned, flicking side to side in indecision. God, all these awful run-ins robbed you of remembering how cute he is. 

“Did you want to come back to mine?” he finally asks, meeting your eyes. “So, we don’t have to drop each other’s shoes off like some fairytale.” 

“It is almost midnight,” your quick wit earns a chuckle from him, eyes moon crescent and you can’t believe your own. How tragically pitiful and handsome he is. “Why not? I’ve got no ball to be at.”

So, instead of spending your night wallowing in the darkness of your apartment, you’re next door, laughing at the failed attempts of Jaemin’s ‘flirting’ Jeno tells you with his samoyed, Ari, cuddled into your side. Once your shoe dries, that’s when you say you’ll leave - what you infamously tell yourself, picking up the bone-dry shoe hours later, belly full of Jeno’s special bowl of noodles and heart full of infatuation for your neighbour. 

Again, not so romantic. But your following run-ins prove to be a turning point, the close relationship you develop unveiling a world of romance you thought were reserved only for movies and books. Somewhere along the line, your elevator talks stretch into rambling dinner dates, rotating between your place and his depending on the meal since Ari once stole a whole steak off your plate once. You take Ari on your nightly walks Jeno accompanies you for, you meet his friends and he meets yours. You make space for each other, carving out time to spend binging the latest season of your favourite dating show or over a bowl of kimchi stew you reward him with for getting the spider out your apartment. 

It’s like your puzzle pieces come together, initially ill-matched but now, the perfect fit for one another. And even if Jaemin jokes you were a bit ‘rough around the edges’ (code for an asshole) when you’d first met, Jeno kisses the denial out of you, making sure you know how much better his (and Ari’s) life is with you in it. 

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (12 - Red)

Chapter Summary: Unable to accept that she is now part of the team, you try to avoid Wanda Maximoff at all cost.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 4k+ | Chapter Tags: Age of Ultron!Wanda, Enemies to Lovers (sort of)

A/N: I got some interesting asks about Y/N's background. There are backstories about Y/N that will come up since Part 2 is purely a flashback. However, things such as how she became an Avenger is not covered, but you're welcome to ask me for headcanons (or give your own!). P.S. Someone asked how old Y/N is in the flashbacks, and she's actually younger than Wanda P.P.S get ready for some action too! it's my first time writing such a scene *_*// More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pretending Wanda Maximoff didn’t exist was easier than you initially thought.

You got good at avoiding her. It became part of your routine—timing your movements through the compound to miss her by minutes, memorizing her schedule so you could always be somewhere else. Sometimes you’d see a hint of her around a corner, a flash of the crimson jacket she usually wore or the dark fall of her hair, but you'd steer in the opposite direction without a second thought.

She seemed to reciprocate—or maybe she simply picked up on the hint. Either way, you both managed to coexist without the need to acknowledge the other. You, a lifelong night owl, suddenly found yourself becoming a morning person the moment you realized Wanda preferred the training room in the evenings. Working out before dawn felt like the safest plan. You told yourself it was working.

Meals, however, were trickier. The kitchen and dining area were unavoidable shared spaces, and schedules didn’t always align as neatly as you’d hoped. Some mornings, you’d find her already there, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea, or she’d walk in just as you were finishing up. 

The team had a tradition—dinners together, a semblance of family in a life that lacked roots. You started to skip these, opting for protein bars or quick microwaves alone. It was easier than facing her across the table, being reminded of what she forced you to see back in Johannesburg. 

But then you noticed Wanda stopped showing up, too. On the nights you did show up, her seat was empty. The others didn’t seem bothered, but you couldn’t shake the feeling it was your fault. 

Despite having won the territory, you couldn’t shake the guilt that came with it.

—

Steve and Tony were at each other’s throats again.

Their arguments had become more frequent in recent weeks, and although you usually stayed out of it, they were beginning to take its toll on the team. You could tell lines were being drawn; team members quietly taking sides, aligning themselves according to whoever had a mission lined up. 

You walked into the meeting room, late as usual, pretending you hadn't heard them from halfway across the building. Steve stood rigid, arms crossed over his chest, jaw set like granite. Tony reclined with that maddeningly casual air that mostly irked Steve, one hand tucked in his pocket while the other animatedly waved as he spoke. 

Wanda was tucked away in the corner farthest from the door, partially shielded by Vision. Trying to avoid Wanda only made you seek her out involuntarily, as much as you wished not to.

“I'm telling you, Tony, allowing the government to dictate our actions undermines everything we stand for,” Steve said.

Oh. This again? The politics of it all was your least favorite thing about being an Avenger.

“Accountability,” Tony replied. “We can't keep making unilateral decisions without considering the global implications.”

Steve shook his head. “We've operated just fine without bureaucratic red tape slowing us down. Every second counts when lives are at stake.”

Tony snorted in a way that’s supposed to rile up Steve even more. “Operating 'just fine'? You call the messes we've left behind 'just fine'?”

You cleared your throat. “Sounds like a party in here.”

Neither of them acknowledged you. Your gaze unintentionally drifted toward Wanda, and you caught her eyes just as she quickly looked away.

“Since when did you become a fan of bureaucracy?” Steve asked.

“Since the paperwork started piling up from our little international incidents,” Tony said, pouring himself another shot of whiskey. 

You grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, leaning against the counter as their words volleyed back and forth. 

“Paperwork? Is that what this is about? You’re tired of paperwork?”

“I’m tired of taking the blame for all of us,” Tony said. 

“Well, you did create Ultron, didn’t you?”

Tony's eyes narrowed. If he weren't clad in his robe, he'd be suiting up right now. “Low blow, Rogers.”

“Truth hurts,” Steve replied.

You took a bite of your apple. “You two need a time-out or something?”

Tony turned to you, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “Ah, look who finally joined us. Got anything to say?”

“Nope,” you replied, chewing deliberately. “But could you tone it down? Your arguing is scaring the children.”

“You are the ‘children’,” Clint said with a smirk and you gave him a dirty look. 

Natasha hid a smile behind her glass. 

“I meant Vision,” you said, pointedly not looking at the synthezoid lest your gaze accidentally land on Wanda again.

Steve exhaled sharply. “This isn't a joke.”

Natasha set her glass down carefully. “Does this really need to be settled now?” she asked, her tone of voice indicating she’s taking charge now. “We gathered the team for a briefing, remember?”

“You're right,” Steve conceded. “We can discuss this later.”

Tony shrugged. “Fine by me.”

Clint leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “So, what's on the agenda?”

Vision, to your surprise, got up from his seat. You recalled that before becoming whatever he was now, he had been Stark's AI, which gave him direct access to global networks. He would be among the first to hear any distress calls.

“We've received intelligence about a potential threat escalating in Southeastern Europe,” Vision said.

You took another bite of your apple, listening but keeping your expression neutral.

Steve picked up a remote and clicked it, causing a holographic map to appear in the center of the room. Red markers dotted a specific region. “A rogue faction has been intercepting shipments of advanced weaponry.”

Tony arched an eyebrow. “Let me guess—Stark tech?”

“Sort of,” Steve allowed. “But they're not just shopping for tech. They're also headhunting for the enhanced.”

At that, Wanda shifted slightly in her seat at the back, her attention fixed intently on the map. You noticed but quickly averted your eyes, focusing instead on the holographic display.

“Any idea who’s leading this faction?” Natasha asked.

“Not yet,” Steve said. “But Intel suggests they're planning something big, and soon.”

“So what’s the plan?” you tossed out.

Steve's eyes swept the room. “We intercept them before they can mobilize. It’s in the rural mountains of Cilo,” he pointed to a spot on the map of Turkey. “Barely any civilians, but we still play it clean—minimal casualties.”

“I'll prep the suits and run some satellite sweeps. Maybe we can get a clearer picture of their operations,” Tony declared, and without waiting for a dismissal, he headed for the door. Steve watched him leave, shaking his head with a mix of irritation and resignation.

“Roles, then,” Steve started, raising his voice just enough to reach the corners of the room—a small gathering today; Rhodes was with the U.S. president on a diplomatic trip in Asia, and Sam was aiding Sokovian refugees settling into their new homes.

“Natasha and Clint, you'll handle reconnaissance. Vision, you will join Tony for air support. I'll lead the ground team.”

“Who’s on the ground team?” you asked.

Steve held your look. “You, me, and Wanda.”

The pit of your stomach clenched. “Fantastic,” you muttered.

“Problem?” Steve challenged.

You quickly schooled your expression. “Nope.”

“Good,” he said firmly. “We roll out at dawn. Meeting’s over.”

As you headed toward the door, Natasha fell into step beside you. “You okay with this?” she asked quietly.

“Why wouldn't I be?” you replied, not meeting her eyes.

She gave you a knowing look. “I know what you’ve been doing. Pretending Wanda doesn't exist isn't going to work on a mission.”

You sighed. “I'll be professional.”

“See that you are,” she said. “For everyone's sake.”

—

The mission was set for the next day, and you were mentally running through strategies, trying to anticipate every possible outcome. What you hadn't expected was a knock on your door late in the evening, well after Steve's usual bedtime of 9 PM. 

Normally, you'd peer through the peephole to check who it was, but your mind was elsewhere—fixated on a particular restaurant in Istanbul you hoped to visit if there was any downtime after the raid. You'd never confess this to anyone, but you were a bit of a foodie. Sampling the best cuisine in each country your Avenger duties took you to had become a personal quest. 

Without thinking, you stood and walked over, opening the door to find Wanda standing there, her hands nervously clasped in front of her. You looked down at your feet, waiting. 

“I need your help,” she said. These were the first words she had ever spoken to you, and you didn’t know why you'd taken note of it.

You didn't glance up. “Don't recall offering it.”

She slipped inside without asking, the soft soles of her boots silent on the floor—a detail that annoyed you. “Steve said he wants minimal casualties, and my powers aren't exactly…gentle. I need to learn how to fight without relying on it too much.”

“So go ask someone else.”

“There's no one else available right now,” she murmured. “Natasha is out, and Steve thought it would be good if we—”

You cut her off, finally raising your head to look at her. “I'm not interested.”

Wanda scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself. I wouldn’t be coming to you if there’s—”

“Then maybe Vision can help you,” you suggested coldly. “He seems to have taken a liking to you. I'm sure he can dig up some martial arts videos for you.”

She bristled. “Why are you being like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like being civil is something that could actually make you sick.”

You met her gaze, unflinching. “I don't have time for this.”

Wanda inhaled sharply, and a strange energy coursed through your veins, the furniture in your bedroom shuddering as though caught in a miniature earthquake. But you held your position, unafraid.

“If you refuse to cooperate, I'll have to report back to Steve,” she warned. 

The threat was so feeble it almost made you laugh.  But you aimed to be more cruel than that.

“Go ahead,” you replied coolly. “Tell him I won't hold your hand.”

Wanda looked on the verge of an outburst. Good.

“Why are you being so difficult?”

You crossed your arms. “Why are you still standing at my door?”

Without another word, she closed her eyes briefly. Suddenly, you felt a subtle push against your thoughts—a whisper not your own. “Why do you hate me so much? We have to work together—”

You recoiled, anger flaring. “Get out of my head.”

“I was just trying to—”

“I don't care what you were trying to do,” you spat, getting in her face. “Don't ever do that again.”

She reeled back slightly. If it weren’t for the fact that she was a hundred times more powerful than you, you might have thought she was intimidated. But as you drew near, you saw it wasn't anger in her eyes, but hurt—a wounded response to your harsh dismissal.

After a few seconds, Wanda nodded. “I’m sorry. I won’t bother you again,” she said softly.

Just then, Clint appeared around the corner. You gave him a questioning look. He might have seemed like he was just passing by, but you weren’t deceived. Clint had no reason to be in this hallway at this hour. It seemed more likely he had been eavesdropping on the last part of your conversation and chose this moment to step in.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked lightly.

“I was just looking for someone to help me with hand-to-hand training,” Wanda explained, already backing away from your doorway.

“I’m the guy for that,” he replied. “Head to the training room, I'll join you shortly.”

“Thanks,” she said, casting a final glance your way before turning on her heel and striding away.

Clint turned to you the moment you two were alone. “Got a minute?”

“Not really,” you replied, though you stayed rooted in your spot.

He leaned against the wall beside your door. “What's going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Doesn't look like nothing,” he countered. “You're being pretty rude.”

You folded your arms. “She never apologized to the team.”

“And you think giving her the cold shoulder is going to fix that?” he asked. “Grow the fuck up, kid. Bullying the new recruit isn't doing any of us any favors.”

“She did some really awful things, Clint,” you reasoned. “She hasn't taken responsibility for that.”

He sighed. “And you've never screwed up? Never done something you regretted?”

“That's different.”

“Is it?” he challenged. “Because from where I'm standing, we all have our demons. You don't see the rest of us acting like we're better than anyone.”

You looked away. “You wouldn't understand.”

“Try me.”

“Wanda showed me more than just a bad dream,” you whispered. “I—” You started to spill the details of your nightmare but stopped, the fear of appearing vulnerable, of seeming weak and worthless like your mother always made you feel, silencing you. When it became apparent you wouldn't continue, Clint added, “Ever thought that maybe she's dealing with her own nightmares too?”

You glanced back at him. “Why do you care so much?”

“Because we're a team,” he said simply. “And teams look out for each other. Even when it's hard.”

“I don’t know if I can—”

“No one's asking you to be her best friend,” he said. “But at least be civil. Professional. The mission depends on it.”

You nodded, standing straighter. “I'll do my job.”

“Good,” he said, pushing off the wall. “That's all I'm asking.”

“Good night, Clint,” you muttered, heading back to your room.

“One more thing,” Clint called out just before you could close the door completely. “You’re right—she never apologized to the team. But she sure as hell apologized to you earlier.”

—

The Quinjet touched down just beyond the rocky outskirts of the small Turkish village, three miles from the fortified base the team was about to infiltrate. The rogue faction had been using it as a stronghold to store advanced weaponry and conduct illicit operations. You unbuckled your harness and stood, adjusting your gear as the rear hatch lowered to reveal the arid landscape bathed in the golden hues of early morning. 

Natasha caught your eye as she secured her gear. “Play nice,” she said, her voice low enough that only you could hear. 

You gave a noncommittal shrug in response.

She arched an eyebrow but didn't press the point. Instead, she adjusted the strap of her Widow's Bite and headed down the ramp.

Clint was perched near a cluster of boulders, bow ready. He didn't speak; he just shot you a pointed look and nodded slightly. You'd never felt more babysat than you did at that moment. Trying to make an effort to improve your working relationship with Wanda (at their behest), you headed toward her without a clear plan for the conversation. A pep talk maybe? You weren’t great at those, but you had absorbed enough from Steve to last several lifetimes.

But just as you were mere steps away from her, she breezed past without a glance in your direction, heading straight toward where Steve was waiting for Tony and Vision's signal to advance. It was as if you didn't exist.

Fair enough, you thought. Two could play at that game.

You tapped the side of your headgear, bringing up the HUD that F.R.I.D.A.Y had uploaded with the mission parameters. A translucent map overlaid your vision, highlighting your designated route through the village's eastern perimeter. Your task was to secure the potential exit points and ensure no targets slipped through once the operation commenced.

“All right, everyone, we’ve got clearance from the air team,” Steve's voice trembled over the comms. There was an unusual distortion in the signal, and you silently hoped it wouldn’t cause problems later. “Check in.”

“In position,” came the succinct reply from Natasha

“Ready on the western ridge,” Clint reported.

“Copy that,” Steve said. “Wanda and I will approach the main entrance from the south. Y/N, you take the north side. Secure any escape routes and watch for patrols.”

You pressed a finger to your earpiece. “Understood.”

“Keep comms open and stay sharp,” Steve added, and with that, everyone moved into position.

You moved into position, the rugged terrain providing ample cover. The north exit was a chokepoint—a narrow path bordered by steep cliffs. Perfect for an ambush, but also a potential death trap.

“All clear on my end,” you whispered into the comm.

“Strange,” Clint remarked.

“Same here,” Natasha agreed. “It's too quiet. I don’t like it.”

Your instincts prickled. 

Then, a faint vibration underfoot. You frowned, kneeling to touch the ground. The tremor grew stronger, rhythmic.

“Do you feel that?” you asked softly.

“Feel what?” Steve's voice came through.

Before you could respond, the ground shook violently. From hidden crevices and camouflaged tunnels, a swarm of hostiles erupted, pouring into the pass like a flood. Dozens—no, hundreds—armed to the teeth and moving with eerie coordination.

“Ambush!” you yelled, scrambling for cover.

“Hold your position—we're coming for you!” Steve roared. 

It should have assured you, but for the next few minutes, you were on your own. You took stock of your surroundings. The pass was narrow—a choke point. It was clear now that it’s a trap, and the enemy got lucky that a superpowered didn’t end up scouting this area.

You opened fire with your dual silencers, taking down several men with precise shots. But for every one you dropped, two more seemed to appear in his place. They weren’t just attacking—they were herding you, forcing you deeper into the pass where the escape routes grew fewer and fewer.

Sweat trickled down your temple as you struggled to hold them off. Your muscles ached, and your breaths came in ragged gasps. An unexpected blow struck your side, slamming you against the rocky wall.

Gritting your teeth, you pressed against the cliffside, muscles taut. Outnumbered and isolated, and not to mention trapped on a dangerous corner, survival seemed impossible.

“Come on,” you muttered to yourself. “Think.”

Just as the closest attacker lunged, a surge of energy hurled him backwards. Wind seemed to come in every direction as Wanda landed on her feet beside you, her eyes glowing red.

Relief washed over you. “Your timing is impeccable.” You hadn't expected that seeing Wanda would make you feel so incredibly safe, but it did. It really did.

She gave a faint smile, eyes scanning the swarm of hostiles regrouping ahead. “We need to find a way out of this trap,” she urged.

“Agreed,” you replied, reloading your weapon. 

The narrow pass had become a funnel, channeling them straight toward you. Rocks jutted out from the cliffside, creating pockets of shadow.

“We're pinned down,” you noted, pressing your back against the cold stone beside hers. The space was tight, forcing you closer together. You could feel the warmth radiating from her despite the cool mountain air. 

Wanda glanced upward. “We might be able to climb to that ledge,” she suggested, her breath brushing against your ear.

“Worth a shot. I'll boost you up.”

Wanda gave a small, amused smile. “You don't have to do that. I can get up there myself.”

It took a moment for the realization to hit you. Of course—her psionic abilities allowed her to levitate. That's how she'd reached you so quickly earlier; she'd flown. Heat rushed to your face as embarrassment set in. “Right,” you mumbled, feeling a bit foolish. “I forgot you could... you know...”

If Wanda picked up on your discomfort, she kept it to herself. “I can give you a lift if you want,” she offered.

You looked up at the ledge, then back at her. Swallowing your pride, you gave a curt nod. “Sure.”

“Okay,” she said softly. “Just relax.”

That was easier said than done, considering the enemies that surrounded you both. But even harder than that was the idea of letting Wanda use her powers on you, even if it was just to help you reach that damned ledge.

“Ready?” Her eyes combed yours, fishing for consent.

“Ready.”

Her hands came up, almost invisible in their movement. A warm fuzzy feeling wrapped around you, and the ground fell away as she floated you up, effortless as breathing.

“Almost there,” she murmured.

She steered you onto the ledge, and when your feet hit solid ground, you exhaled a breath you didn't know you were holding. “Thanks,” you tossed over your shoulder.

She smiled up at you. “Don’t mention it.”

She joined you shortly afterwards, landing gracefully beside you. The proximity was unavoidable on the narrow ledge, and you were acutely aware of how close you stood.

“Now what?”

Wanda leaned against the wall beside you, her shoulder brushing yours. “We need to find a way to contact the team.”

You checked your equipment. “Comms are jammed.”

She frowned. “They must have a dampening field.”

An explosion rocked the ground nearby, showering you with debris. “We can't stay like this here forever,” you muttered.

Wanda took a deep breath. “There is... something I can try.”

You glanced at her. “What is it?”

She swallowed hard. “I can get inside their heads—like I did before—to make them stand down.”

Like she did before in Johannesburg—to you, to the entire team in this mission sans Vision. You saw the fear in her eyes—the fear of your judgment, of repeating past mistakes. It struck you then how much she regretted what had happened between you.

Another burst of gunfire erupted, making you both flinch. There was no time.

You looked her in the eye and nodded. “Do it.”

Wanda wasted no time further. She got to work, her hands moving like a spider’s legs weaving its web. Looking down, you saw the men freeze mid-step. One by one, they dropped their weapons, eyes wide with unseen terror.

Unable to help yourself, you asked, “What are they seeing?” 

Wanda kept her eyes on her work, pointedly avoiding your gaze. “Their worst fears and deepest guilts. They’re confronting the nightmares that haunt them most.”

For a split-second, you felt sorry for these people.

“Let's move,” you said, placing a reassuring hand on Wanda’s shoulder.

—

Reaching higher ground, you and Wanda were finally able to reestablish communication with the rest of the team. From his position, Steve was quick to inform the local authorities about the perpetrators that Wanda had incapacitated with her powers, ensuring they remained trapped within their own mental constructs until help arrived. Meanwhile, Natasha and Clint were busy collecting crucial evidence from the scene, items they believed would be vital in piecing together a solid case against the previously concealed masterminds of the operation. As for Vision and Tony, they razed the base to the ground. 

Back at the Quinjet, you and Wanda took up positions to oversee and secure the extraction route.

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

She looked up, slightly surprised. “Y-You’re welcome.”

You shifted your weight, grimacing slightly at a bruise forming on your side. “Thought being a veteran would make this mission easier,” you mused, going over the jet’s controls to give yourself something to do while you both waited for the others. “Overestimated myself this time.”

Wanda nodded thoughtfully. 

Another period of silence stretched out, taut but not entirely uncomfortable. She seemed to wrestle with something before speaking again. “May I ask you a question?”

You hesitated, wary of where this might lead. “Sure.”

She took a slow breath. “Do you think... you might ever forgive me for what happened in Johannesburg?”

You exhaled slowly, eyes fixed on the distant peaks. “Deep down, I know it wasn't entirely your fault,” you began, “but sometimes it's easier to face your fears when you have someone else to blame for them.”

She absorbed your words quietly. “I understand,” she said softly. She thought about Tony. For the longest time, she blamed him for everything.

“Wanda, I—”

Before the conversation could continue, footsteps crunched on gravel behind you. The rest of the team was coming down the trail, and Natasha was the first to pick up on the fact that you and Wanda had been left alone together without any fireworks.

She walked up to you with a sly grin barely lifting the corners of her mouth. “Good work out there,” she said.

You rolled your eyes and drifted to a quieter corner, away from the team.

Wanda had saved you. That much was clear, and it meant you owed her your life—a debt that sat uneasily with you. You were grateful, of course, but the last thing you wanted was to owe anything to anyone.

Especially not to someone who terrified you to your core.

[slaytheday12]

helloooo i have a request for youu

okay so walker scobell x reader where walker and the reader 'dated' when they were kids (like 11ish maybe?) but walker moved away, so they obviously stopped talking. then fast forward to now, he messages her on Instagram and at some point in the convo he says smth like "we never broke up" i hope this makes sense 😭

anyway i love youuu <33

We Never Broke Up

You and Walker had been inseparable as kids. From the moment you met at summer camp, there was an instant connection. At 11 years old, you didn’t know much about love, but whatever you had with Walker felt special. It was the kind of friendship where you’d pass notes, dare each other to do silly things, and sneak away from the group just to hang out under the stars. You’d even playfully called each other boyfriend and girlfriend, giggling at how grown-up it sounded.

But life had a way of pulling people apart. When camp ended, Walker moved across the country. You promised to stay in touch, but as time went on, the phone calls and texts became less frequent, and eventually, they stopped altogether.

Fast forward to now, and you were scrolling through Instagram, mindlessly tapping through stories. That’s when you saw him.

Walker Scobell.

You blinked, unsure if it was the same Walker you’d known all those years ago. But as you clicked on his profile, there was no doubt it was him. Except now, he was famous, starring in movies and making headlines. You hesitated for a moment before hitting the follow button, figuring there was no way he’d even notice.

To your surprise, he did.

The next day, a notification popped up: Walker Scobell has sent you a message.

Your heart raced as you opened it.

Walker: Wait... is this the same Y/N from camp? You: Depends. Are you the same Walker who screamed when we saw that raccoon by the cabins? Walker: 😭 Okay, fair, but yes. It’s me. Hi. You: Hi. Wow, it’s been forever. Walker: Yeah, like, what, 3 years? Maybe more?

The conversation flowed effortlessly. It was like no time had passed at all. You caught up on life how he got into acting, your own adventures, and everything in between. As the chat went on, the nostalgic warmth of your childhood friendship crept back in.

Then, out of nowhere, Walker dropped a bombshell.

Walker: You know... we never actually broke up. You: 😳 Walker: I mean, technically, right? We never said the words.

You laughed out loud, staring at the screen in disbelief.

You: Pretty sure moving across the country counts as a breakup, Walker. Walker: Nope. Doesn’t count unless someone says it. I’m just saying... we’re still technically dating. You: Oh, really? And what does that make us now? Walker: Long-distance couple reunited. 😌

You couldn’t help but smile, your cheeks heating up.

You: You’re ridiculous. Walker: Maybe. But I mean it. You were my first girlfriend, and I’m pretty sure I never stopped liking you.

Your heart skipped a beat. You stared at his message, unsure of what to say. Before you could respond, another message popped up.

Walker: Sorry if that’s too much. I just... I saw your profile and couldn’t stop thinking about you.

You took a deep breath before typing your reply.

You: It’s not too much. Honestly, I’ve thought about you too. A lot.

From there, the conversation shifted into something deeper, filled with confessions and laughter as you both navigated this unexpected reunion. By the end of the night, one thing was clear: whatever spark had existed between you as kids hadn’t faded it had only grown stronger.

Walker wasn’t just someone from your past anymore. He was part of your present, and maybe, just maybe, your future too.

A/N: u know i had to do my queens one first this my o.g girl i love her with my whole heart

Tags: @izzystylinson, @sophand4n4, @kaiwrites092

[captain-hawks]

18+, ex-fwb!oliver who hasn’t forgotten how to take you apart.

you fall back into bed with him after a year and change—he’s moved into a new apartment across town, you changed your hair. you have a cat now, a new job. he drives a different car.

you’ve had other lovers in your bed.

you know oliver has, too.

it’s a quiet thursday night when he calls you out of the blue. he’s bored. he just stumbled across that hole-in-the-wall bar you always swore up and down didn’t exist. they have your favorite drink. he says it’s nice to hear your voice.

it’s starting to rain. a car honks somewhere in the distance.

he asks if he’s interrupting anything; what he means is are you with someone else.

you don’t ask him why now, after all this time.

he shows up at your place with damp, messy hair and a half-wilted flower you’re certain he plucked from your neighbor’s garden. with a crooked smile and the air of someone that has no intentions of pretending why he’s here.

(and he doesn’t—not when he backs you up against the counter. not when he slots a thick thigh between your legs as you bury your fingers in his hair and purposely tug on the green strands at his nape.)

part of you wants to hate it, how quick he is to catch on.

“nobody else has been fucking you like this,” he murmurs against your lips.

it’s a fact, not a question.

oliver has always been observant. keenly so.

he sees it, feels it in the starved, needy way your body responds to him. the press of your fingers and the grip of your cunt. the way the sheets slip uselessly beneath your heels.

you ignore him. you push him backward and get on top.

he grins up at you, insufferable. handsome. “tell me i’m wrong.”

you roll your eyes, roll your hips, hold your tongue.

he sits up, arms wrapping around you as you find yourself seated in his lap. he hits a spot that makes you see stars.

“tell me i’m wrong,” he whispers against your lips, fucking up into you.

you bury your head against his collarbone, sink your teeth into soft skin in silent protest. oliver chuckles, large hand tracing the knobs of your spine.

he puts you on your back, slides into you in a slow, deep stroke. with one leg slung over his shoulder, with a filthy kiss and two fingers against your swollen clit and more pleasure than you’ve felt in a long time. the angle makes you gasp.

“tell me that anyone else makes you come like i do,” he groans into the kiss.

it feels possessive.

(that thought feels dangerous.)

the way you gasp his name when you come all over his cock is answer enough.

[aventurineswife]

helos fre :3 random but any thoughts on self aware hsr 🙏🙏 ngl it's absolute peak to me cuz the fics I've read about it is so good I wanna digest it into my blood cells 😍🥰🥰/hj /lh

AHHHH I HAVE FEW BUT ITS PROBABLY NOT GOOD 😭🙏 (I might need to write a series about it in the future lmaoo)

The Express itself, and the crew aboard it, start referencing an "observer" that influences their journey. They might leave cryptic remarks like, "We wouldn’t have made it here without a guiding force…" or, "Are you out there, watching us?"

Himeko and Welt have deep discussions about the metaphysical implications of being part of a "game." Welt's past in other dimensions makes him particularly reflective.

Occasionally, your Trailblazer might break the fourth wall and stare directly "out" of the screen. They’d ask questions like, "Why are you helping us? What’s in it for you?" Or even, "Do you think you’re doing the right thing?"

Their dialogue changes subtly depending on your in-game decisions, showing that they’re paying attention.

Kafka is one of the few who seems fully aware that you’re pulling the strings. She might tease, "How long will you keep playing this game? Or is it playing you?" It’s unclear if she means it literally or as a metaphor.

Pela starts digging into the concept of "higher dimensions" where powerful entities (like the players) influence their world. You might find hidden journal entries speculating about the possibility of unseen forces guiding their lives.

Characters start commenting on how often you farm the same materials or run the same domains (?). For instance, Dan Heng might say, "You’ve had me fight this exact enemy over fifty times… What are you preparing for?"

When summoning characters, some of them might react to being "chosen." For example: Silver Wolf might say, "Took you long enough. Were you saving for someone else?" While Seele could mutter, "You really wanted me, didn’t you?"

As beings tied to the metaphysical order of the universe, the Aeons might perceive your existence. Xianzhou scholars hypothesize that you are an entity akin to an Aeon of "Control" or "Fate."

The Stellaron within the Trailblazer seems to have an awareness of you, treating you like an ally—or a potential threat. It might whisper cryptic messages about your choices or consequences.

Herta becomes suspicious of the odd behaviors in the universe and starts referring to you as a "prime variable." She might even try to communicate directly through simulated events, asking for your cooperation.

Some characters, like March 7th or Natasha, might express gratitude for your care and attention. "You always bring me along… Do you think I’m special?" they might ask, breaking the fourth wall.

Certain antagonists, like Cocolia or Jade, might break from their usual dialogue to challenge your decisions. "You think you’re the hero? You’re just another player, aren’t you?"

A secret cutscene or dialogue could play if you act in unexpected ways, revealing that the characters have fully realized their reality. It could be bittersweet, with them either embracing or lamenting their lack of agency.

Aventurine might acknowledge your influence subtly. After completing a mission for the IPC, he sends a message: "Noticed your knack for efficiency. You deserve a little bonus for all the extra effort you 'inspire.' Don’t let it go to your head." He attaches an unusually large amount of credits, as though recognizing you directly for optimizing his profits.

Argenti might kneel before the screen during a heartfelt moment (or after a battle): "O noble guide, it is your divine hand that shapes my path! I dedicate my blade not just to the people, but to you. May your will continue to shine upon us!" He also gifts you rare items or sends messages of gratitude, as though you're a divine figure he serves.

AHHH I wanna write fics for certain characters or something (this could also lead to yandere themes depending if the person/anon reqs for it).

[darlingdaisyfarm]

I remember on ao3 you mentioned you wanted to post Stan and Ford reacting to readers death, I wanted to ask if you could share it please?<3

grief wears your name | Stan and Ford react to reader's death

Grief hits everyone differently and the Pines family is no exception. Old men arent supposed to outlive you

a/n: certainly! thank u for reminding me, tw: death

Stanley

you'd think that a man who’s been through as much as Stan Pines would’ve learned how to process grief by now. but the thing about Stan is, he doesn’t process it, not really. he pushes it down so deep that even he forgets it’s there, until it sneaks up and slams him flat on his ass.

fuck that, fuck everything, fuck this world

hell, he wasn’t supposed to outlive you. not you. not with all the shit he’d done to his body over the years, the cigarettes, the cheap booze, the sleepless nights every time he looked in the mirror. it was supposed to be him first. the old man with bad habits and a lifetime of regrets weighing him down. that was the deal, wasn’t it? you're too young, bright, stubborn, alive, you were supposed to outlast him. supposed to be there when his time came, rolling your eyes at his dramatics and holding his hand as he went. that’s how it was supposed to go, fucking fuck

he got the call from someone he didn’t recognize. a voice muttered words he couldn’t make sense of. your name. your fucking name. his ears rang, his head spun and his fingers gripped the receiver tightly

“what the fuck do you mean, gone?” the person on the other end tried to explain, but Stanley slammed the phone back onto the hook before they could finish. no. no.

you couldn’t be gone.

he saw you last week. he watched you smile at him across the counter, teasing him about his fez like you always did. he swore you winked at him before you left.

and now you were just. . . what? erased from existence?

grief had a way of making him ugly, uglier than he already saw himself. his hands shook as if he’d been drinking all night, but the bottle on the table was full and untouched. even the burn of whiskey couldn’t numb this, so what was the point?

Stanley thought about the kitten he’d brought home when he was ten. it was starving, ribs like piano keys beneath its dirty fur, the meows little animal let out were so pitiful. he'd sworn he’d take care of it, even made a little bed out of an old shoebox and named it tiger. he fed it milk behind his dad's back. tiger died three days later.

Stan felt useless, he couldn’t save anyone.

Stan hasn’t touched the fez since you died. it’s sitting there on the bedside table, gathering dust. you used to steal it all the time, yanking it off his head with a grin. “this thing’s ridiculous, Stan,” you’d tease, shoving it onto your head crookedly. “i’m the boss of scam now. bow to me.” and he always played along, rolling his eyes, calling you a pain in the ass, but you only laughed at that. that laughter was gone.

when Mabel asked him about you last night, he had to get up and leave the room because he wasn't ready for that. she was just a kid, trying to understand why the world was so unfair and he couldn’t give her an answer because he didn’t have one.

“grunkle Stan? do you think. . . do you think they’re still watching over us?” how could he tell her he didn’t believe in anything like that anymore? that you were just gone, snuffed out, like you’d never been here at all?

Mabel’s curled in his lap like she’s five again, clutching her sweater-covered arms around her knees, her face a swollen mess of tears and hiccupping sobs. her little voice is hoarse from crying and she tries to explain, through broken words, about the stupid sweater she’d been knitting for you. she just finished it. it was supposed to be a surprise. she was going to give it to you tomorrow.

Stan wraps his arms around her, calls her “pumpkin” in the softest voice he can manage, but it trembles. he squeezes his eyes shut so hard it makes his head hurt, he hopes if he can just keep them closed tight enough, none of this will be real. but it is. it fucking is. and he doesn’t know how to tell a twelve-year-old that the world is this fucking cruel. he doesn’t know how to admit he feels like that little boy again, the one with a kitten dying in his hands and nothing he could do to stop it.

he buries his face in Mabel’s brown hair and mutters some useless lie about how “it’s gonna be okay”

Mabel's face against his chest as she sobbed. Stan held her tighter.

“i made them a sweater, grunkle Stan. i-it’s pink with little stars and they- they said they'd wear it when it got cold,” her sobs swallowed the rest.

what could he say to that? what the hell could anyone say? “they loved your sweaters, kiddo. you know they did.” he wanted to picture you in that dumb pink sweater, smiling like you always did when you wanted to make Mabel feel special. but all he could see was you gone. gone. and nothing he could do would change it

Stanford

when he got the news about you, his meticulously constructed walls crumbled in an instant.

he sat at his desk, the journal open in front of him, its pages blurred by the tears he didn’t realize were falling. his hands shook as he gripped the pen, but the words just wouldn’t come.

he’d been taught from an early age that emotions were illogical. when he was younger, his father had told him to “quit being such a baby” after Ford cried over a broken model ship. that lesson had stuck

he locked himself in his study, the same place he’d last seen you. everything was still exactly where it had been. the chair you’d sat in. the pen you’d picked up and fiddled with while listening to him ramble. he’d always been embarrassed by how much he talked around you, because words came so easily when you were there.

the guilt was eating him from inside

was it his fault?

had he been too focused on his work, too distracted to notice that something was wrong? had he missed a chance to save you?

he needed answers. needed to know. what had happened? why had it happened?

he buried himself in research, poring over every detail of the accident or the incident, as he came to call it. his obsession grew, consuming him. he didn’t sleep. didn’t eat.

Stan found him one night, hunched over the desk, muttering to himself about alternate dimensions and cosmic energy. “Ford, this isn’t gonna bring them back.”

Ford didn’t respond because Stan was wrong.

Ford wasn’t trying to bring you back. he was trying to rewrite the universe so you’d never been gone in the first place

Dipper tries to talk to him one day, pulling at the hem of his vest clumsily. “grunkle Ford, is it okay to miss someone this much? like. . .this much that it hurts? my chest hurts.”

Stanford doesn’t know how to answer that. he doesn’t know how to explain the way grief wraps itself around your lungs and makes it impossible to breathe. “it is, Mason, it means they mattered.”

Dipper doesn’t see how Ford presses his hands to his temples when he leaves.

Ford’s always been good at pretending he’s fine.

Ford’s grief was quieter, but no less consuming. the guilt, the helplessness, the horrible emptiness that stretched wider every time he thought about how he’d failed to protect you.

he couldn’t stop thinking about all the times you’d parodied him, mimicking the way he pushed his glasses up his nose or how he’d say “actually” before correcting someone. “actually, Stanford Pines, you’re so predictable,” you’d giggle, tapping the bridge of your nose in a mocking gesture

you used to drive him insane with it, in good way. his face would flush, his words would stumble, and he’d act all huffy while secretly loving every second. he never told you how much he adored the way you made fun of him

he found one of your notebooks the other day. it was tucked under a pile of his old research papers, pages scrawled with your handwriting. you’d doodled little caricatures of him in the margins, stick-figure versions of Ford with six fingers and exaggerated glasses, accompanied by sarcastic captions like, “the nerdiest but prettiest man i ever knew”

he stared at those drawings until his vision blurred from tears. then he shoved the notebook in a drawer and locked it.

...

Ford disappears the next morning.

he knows it’s selfish, leaving Stan and the kids to deal with all of this without him, a part of family, but he can’t be in that house another second. the walls are suffocating. so he grabbed his coat, your coat, the one you used to borrow when you’d say his was warmer and walked, his feet already knew where they’re going.

the woods. the same path you always loved, where the sunlight filtered through the trees beautifully, where you used to point out birds or mushrooms or anything that caught your curious eye. you’d tug on his sleeve to make him stop and look. and god, you were so beautiful when you smiled at him like that. Ford adored you.

Ford doesn’t remember sitting down in the clearing where you used to spend time together, his knees in the dirt, fists clenched in the grass. he hadn’t cried when he found out, hadn’t even let himself feel it because there were too many faces looking at him like he was supposed to have answers. now there’s nothing but the woods, only memory of you and the sound of his own ragged breathing breaking into loud sobs

Ford cries like a child. raw, aching grief pouring out of him in waves, making his glasses fog up, slipping down his nose and he doesn’t bother fixing them. his body doesn’t know how to process this kind of pain. his hands too busy clawing at the ground, hoping he could dig deep enough to find you again.

Ford Pines, the man who always thought he could think his way out of anything, is completely unmade.

he doesn’t know how long he sits there, crumpled against the base of a tree. his hands tremble as he takes the notebook out of his coat pocket, the one he used to write down little things you’d say or do that he didn’t want to forget. he flips through it now, pages ruined with his tears and it hurts worse than anything else. your handwriting’s there, little notes you’d leave for him.

“don’t forget your glasses!”

“your hair looks cute today <3”

“i love you, Ford.”

he shuts the notebook and presses it to his chest, it's the only part of you he has left.

the stars above didn’t care. the trees didn’t care. the world kept turning, indifferent to the fact that you’d been torn from it.

and Ford was left there in the cold void, feeling smaller than he ever had in his life.

[starredblood]

NOWHERE GIRL

PART TWO

kang sae-byeok x fem!reader

synopsis: time is ticking but sae-byeok seems to grow more irritated by your existence meanwhile you come face to face with the secret you’ve been holding onto.

wc. 1.9k

warnings: hints of homophobia | authors note: thanks for the love on part one! enjoy part two and let me know if you want to be added onto my taglist.

(nowhere girl masterlist)

You decided to get ready early in the morning to stay in your school campus for the entire day just to avoid staying at Ji-yeong and Sae-byeok’s apartment. Your new plan was just to stay here to sleep so wouldn’t bother them as much. Especially, Sae-byeok.

Because there was only so much you could pack in your duffle bag, you only brought your laptop, portfolio tote and your small portable supply container.

Before you head out, you go on your phone to find your new route to school for the week. And because you were concentrating, you failed to hear someone come out their room and walk towards you.

“Hey.” Sae-byeok hisses.

You shot your head up wondering why she’s up so early. Sae-byeok must also start her days early seeing as she has on her utility jacket, a pair of baggy jeans, and her unruly hair was more styled. The apartment was dimly lit so you can’t make out her expression, but you can only assume she isn’t happy about something you did.

“Why did you give Cheol your crayons?”

You blink. “You mean oil pastels?”

“Yes.” she grimaces. “I don’t know you so I don’t want you to be giving him things. Especially not without my permission.”

“They’re my old sets so I thought it would be better to give it to him than to throw them away.”

“We don’t need your charity case. Don’t give him any more of your shit.”

A frown starts to form on your lips. It’s bad enough you can’t go home anymore, now you have to deal with this.

You can feel your blood begin to boil watching Sae-byeok head to the front door, so you follow her out.

“They’re just oil pastels I don’t see why this has to be such a big deal?” you say to her, your voice louder now that you’re out of the apartment. Sae-byeok isn’t moved by your words. “Your brother looked so happy when I told him he could keep them—I wasn’t planning on giving him anything more.”

The morning breeze hits your red cheeks, cooling them. You following her like a baby duckling was not how you wanted to start your morning when you had a long day ahead.

Once you’re both out on the streets, Sae-byeok stops walking and spins around to face you. She took one step closer and you take a step back.

“Good.” Sae-byeok says.

“Good?”

Sae-byeok doesn’t like naive people. She doesn’t know you but from what she could guess: you’re just a spoiled daughter who threw a tantrum and ran away to prove a point. Once it all blows over, you have a support system to bounce back on. You can go back to focusing solely on your studies and later make a name for yourself—everything she can’t do no matter how many hours in the days she works or how many people she pickpockets.

“Yes. Good.” she repeats mockingly. “I don’t want him to get too attached to you being here—he’s a sensitive kid. So, just keep to yourself and focus on how you’re going to find a new place to stay in less than a week. Got it?”

You didn’t think the words of someone you met three days ago would affect you so much. But here you are, frozen in place, ashamed of yourself. However, in the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but think about the shift in accents when she spoke.

⊹ ✿・・───・・✦・・───・・✿

You were the first person in the art studio—about an hour or so early. With all your deadlines quickly approaching you saw the silver lining in arriving to your university early because you can catch up with all your work. Right now you were working on an art piece due next week, not realizing that class was soon starting and your friends began arriving.

“Hey.” one of them greets you.

You look down from your piece and smile at, Park Yoon. She was the first person you contacted when you got kicked out of your parent’s house, you lived in her dormitory for only a week before you got caught. Although you wouldn’t consider Yoon a close friend seeing as she has a huge friend group, she was a reliant one.

“How are you, um, holding up?” she asks quietly to not catch the attention of the other students who began arriving.

“Not bad. I’m staying at an old school friends apartment for the time being.” you tell her, wiping your hands with a moist cloth.

Yoon nods looking at the ground in contemplation. “How long?”

“A week—well technically until Friday so five days.”

Something about her behavior seems off to you. Usually, she is pretty chipper ready to talk someone’s ears off. But today she is quieter, talking in less verbiage. Yoon shoots a glance around the classroom, surveying the vicinity to make sure no one is watching.

“There were rumors flying around about the real reason you ran away.”

You snort and fall back down on your seat to meet her at eye level. “Rumors? Aren’t we too old to be starting rumors?”

Yoon frowns and scoots a little back. “You know what it is…right?”

You stare at the floor, expressionless.

“They aren’t true, right?” Yoon asks cautiously. You threw her a look and the girl’s lips part to gasp or say something—you aren’t sure but it wasn’t a good reaction. Your heart rate begins to increase as you turn to face your canvas.

It’s all over now, you think. If Yoon has figured it out so will the rest of your peers and your social life is beyond the grave now.

Not even a minute later, Yoon stands up and sits on the other side of the room when she saw her friends enter. You start to become paranoid, wondering if she’ll immediately begin to gossip.

Throughout the duration of class you couldn’t help but get lost in your thoughts. The anticipation of everyone finding out about you was swallowing you whole. You are starting to wish that time moves slower so you wouldn’t have to leave class.

It didn’t help that Yoon and her friends kept stealing looks at your direction. You tried to avoid making eye contact but you would find that hard to do.

Rubbing the sweat from your palms, you pick up your brush and use this rush of panic as a way to speed up the process of your art work.

“Don’t forget about the deadline coming up!” your professor says five octaves higher while the class starts packing their things. “The students with the top three highest grades will get their work displayed at Hangaram Art Museum for the entirety of the summer!”

Your professors words were in the back of your mind as you frantically tried to pack your things to avoid Yoon and her group. It wasn’t until you heard a ‘Psst’ coming behind you that you snap out of your trance.

“Hey,” whispers a peer of yours. You never spoken to him, but the toothy inviting grin he is sending you is enough for you to know that he isn’t harmful. “I just wanted to tell you not to let those girls get into your head. I know how you feel—if you know what I mean.”

You send him a quizzical look. “Thanks?” So, they did gossip and everyone in this class knows. You might just throw up.

“Just keep your chin up and don’t let them see you in a moment of weakness and you’ll be alright.” he sends you a thumbs up as he walks away. You force a smile that goes away in a blink of an eye and sink into your seat.

What have you done? Why did you trust Yoon so much? You feel like such an idiot.

⊹ ✿・・───・・✦・・───・・✿

It was almost nearing midnight, Ji-yeong and Sae-byeok were in the living room. After a long day of working, Sae-byeok was trying to rest before doing it all over again tomorrow by watching mindless television until her roommate disrupts her to start pacing back and forth in front of her. Sae-byeok knew what she was getting worked up about. Ji-yeong clearly began to notice your lack of presence today.

“Where could she be this late? I’m sure libraries are closed by now…” she trails off, rubbing her chin in deep thought.

Sae-byeok’s mind goes back to earlier this morning. Your brief exchanges could’ve caused her to avoid coming to the apartment but your duffle bag is still here. You’d have to come back eventually.

“Sae-byeok, what did you do?”

Sae-byeok’s eyebrows knit in confusion. “Me?”

“I saw that look you just did. You look guilty. What did you do?”

“Nothing.” she responds coolly.

Ji-yeong purposely blocks the television screen and crosses her arms. “I’m not moving until you tell me the truth.”

“I don’t remember it was early in the morning.”

“Is it because she gave Cheol her crayons?”

Sae-byeok narrows her eyes. “How did you—?”

“He wouldn’t stop talking to me about it when I picked him up from school.” Ji-yeong rolls her eyes. “So, it is because of that? You got mad at her because of crayons, Sae-byeok, really?”

“It’s not just about the crayons.” she snips, sitting up straight from the couch. “Do you even know her personally? When was the last time you two actually talked before this?”

Ji-yeong doesn’t say anything.

“Thought so.” she scoffs. “I don’t trust her. Especially since you don’t want to tell me why she ran away in the first place.”

Ji-yeong purses her lips to digest her words. She shuffles to let Sae-byeok watch television again and sank next to her in the couch.

“I think she’s nice.” she grumbles like a child. Sae-byeok sends her a glare.

“You think, you don’t know.”

Ji-yeong shrugs. “I have no reason to think she’s a bad person.”

“People can change overnight. I’ve seen it happen and I’ve seen the consequences of being too trusting.”

Ji-yeon goes silent again. “No. This is something different—“

“Well, if you can just tell me why she’s even here in the first place then maybe I—“

“I can’t.”

“Then I don’t see the point in discussing this.” Sae-byeok sighs. She gets up from the comfort of the couch and stretches before grabbing her coat by the front door.

“Where are you going?” Ji-yeong frowns.

“To clear my head. I won’t be long.”

Ji-yeong doesn’t push any further, knowing this is something Sae-byeok occasionally does when her thoughts start to become too much. Maybe Ji-yeong went a little too far trying to defend your character because Sae-byeok rarely ever backs down from an argument so she really tested her limits.

Of course with Sae-byeok’s luck, she stumbles upon you sitting on the staircase, doodling something on your sketchbook underneath the fluorescent lights of the building.

Sae-byeok stares at your back trying to figure out if she should sneak back inside or talk to you. Maybe this is her chance to figure out what you’re really up to and prove Ji-yeong wrong.

“Why aren’t you inside?” she asks you after hesitating. You don’t response, you just throw her a glance before going back to drawing. Sae-byeok feels like this is some sort of payback for earlier.

Sae-byeok thought she was good at reading people’s body language and automatically pinpoint who they are and what their intentions are. It was something she had to learn to do in order to survive. But you are becoming an outlier.

“Ji-yeong is worried.”

“Well, just tell her I’m here.” you speak up. “I’ll be inside later. I just want to stop by a convenience store to get something to eat.”

“We have food inside.”

You turn to make eye contact with her again. For a brief moment, no words were spoken even as tension was rising.

“You got mad at me over oil pastels. Why would I go around touching your food?” you ask softly.

And for the first time, Sae-byeok is taken aback by you. There is another evanescent period of silence.

“Fine.” she says and starts walking down the staircase and further away from the building only to turn around to call out your name. You poke your head out from your sketchbook, raising an eyebrow at her. “Are you coming or what?”

You survey her figure blankly. With every interaction you have with Sae-byeok, she just keeps confusing you further. It feels like you are playing mental game of chess with her and you aren’t sure how to feel about that. You’re already overwhelmed with what happened today at school, you shouldn’t add someone like Sae-byeok to the mix.

Sae-byeok dug her hands deep inside the pockets of her jacket and taps her foot on the pavement, waiting for you impatiently. You sigh in defeat and close your sketchbook.

Just five more days and this’ll all just be a blurry memory, you think to yourself.

🏷️: @monroesturnns

[seasaltrasp]

Cigarettes

a cho sang woo fic | post-squidgame au

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

inspired by this cas song + a dream i had

1.5k words, dbf!cho sang woo x f!reader

warnings: age gap, smoking, mentions of lighters

note: first time writing a fic ! i genuinely could not explain to you what this is, happy reading <3

⋆ ⋆ ---––——––------––——––------––——––--- ⋆ ⋆

The night wrapped itself around the house like a thick velvet blanket, cool and heavy, muffling the world outside. The warmth from inside spilled out in golden streams through the windows, making the dark feel even more intimate, more distant. The house stood like an oasis in the midst of the night, quiet but alive with the weight of the evening’s conversation.

Inside, the table had been cleared, the dishes stacked in the sink with care. The remnants of dinner lingering in the air—a warm hum of laughter, the soft clink of silverware against porcelain. He had come for dinner, a guest of my father, the man whose sharp wit and quiet intelligence had filled the room, a surprising contrast to the heavy weight he carried in his eyes.

Cho Sang Woo, my father’s business partner, was a man in his forties who seemed older than the years that clung to him. But when my father suggested he stay the night—too late to drive, too long a distance—he didn’t hesitate. “Stay in the guest room,” my father had said, waving a hand as if it were nothing, and so he did.

He had lingered on the couch, nursing his scotch, his hands resting on the edge of the glass like he was trying to find an anchor in a storm. I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was only half-present, as though his mind was on an island somewhere far away.

When my parents retired to bed, he excused himself, saying he needed some air. It was a statement that didn’t quite ask for permission, but there was something about the way he spoke it—so softly, yet so firmly—that made it clear he didn’t need to explain himself.

I watched as he stepped outside, his form slipping into the night like a shadow, leaving me to the quiet lull of the house. I rinsed the dishes slowly, my thoughts lingering on the man who seemed to be running from something, his every movement weighed with invisible regret. When I finished, I stepped out onto the porch, the wood beneath my feet creaking in the stillness.

The air was cold and sweet, tinged with the scent of damp earth from the garden.

He was sitting on the steps leading up to the house, a shadow among shadows. He had come outside to escape something inside him. His figure was relaxed, almost languid, but there was a tension in him that I couldn’t quite place, a rigidity beneath the surface that suggested a history deeper than I could understand, but he masked it with the ease of someone used to playing a role.

I didn’t know what haunted him, but I could feel it in the way his gaze occasionally dipped into the distance, as if looking for something that no longer existed.

He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, fingers almost caressing the smooth cardboard, before cursing softly under his breath when he realized he’d forgotten his lighter. I almost smiled at how perfectly human the moment felt—despite everything, he was still just a man, fumbling for something as ordinary as a flame.

I lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching the way he exhaled in frustration. Then, as if on cue, he turned his head slightly, sensing me before I even made a sound.

“Got a lighter?”

His voice was low, amused, but with that edge of tiredness I was beginning to recognize.

Without a word, I reached into the pocket of my jacket, feeling the cool metal of my lighter against my fingers. When I pulled it out, it was an object of pure contrast to him. My lighter was small, almost dainty, a delicate pink glimmering thing that would have looked absurd in his calloused, heavy hands.

It flew through the air, almost weightless, and he caught it with the reflexes of someone who was used to playing more dangerous games than catch.

He stared at the lighter, as though trying to figure out its very existence. His brow furrowed, and then, he slowly lifted his gaze to mine.

“This… is your lighter?” he asked, a note of disbelief in his voice, but more so amusement.

I held his gaze, my lips twitching, and in a voice that felt more like a dare than a simple answer, I murmured, “It’s for birthday candles,” the ghost of a smile flitting across my lips. The words tasted like a lie wrapped in a joke.

For a moment, the tension in the air seemed to dissipate, and I could almost see the corner of his mouth twitch. His lips pressed into a hard line, fighting a smile. But it didn’t come. Instead, he shut his eyes with a long exhale, a weary chuckle escaping him as he nodded slightly, as though accepting that this ridiculous object was now the truth of the moment. “Right,” he muttered.

There was something about the way he fidgeted with the lighter—fingers circling it, almost testing its weight—that made the space between us feel impossibly intimate. Without a word, I slid onto the step opposite him, settling a foot’s distance away, my body angled just enough toward him to catch every small detail. The way he inhaled, the slight easing of his shoulders, the way his square rimmed glasses reflected the glow of the cigarette as he took his first drag. He looked, for a moment, like he had finally found the stillness he was searching for.

“You don’t smoke,” he said, not with curiosity, but with the knowing air of someone who was used to reading people like books.

“I do not,” I said, my voice soft, but deliberate.

A thought flickered through me, a quiet, reckless impulse. I glanced at the pack of cigarettes resting beside him. “Today’s as good a day as any,” I said, my fingers already stretching toward the box.

His eyes shifted to me, sharp and quick, and his hand immediately shot out, placing a finger on the pack, sliding it just out of reach with a quiet tut. His gaze met mine, his smile tight, a warning hidden behind the casual gesture.

I couldn’t help but give him a soft pout. My bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly, a playful protest hanging between us like a suspended breath. His gaze snapped away quicker than lightning, fixating on the trail of glistening pebbles leading towards the house. His eyes shifted down to his shoes, then to the blades of grass fluttering in the breeze, and then up at the stars, as if the world around him had suddenly become infinitely more interesting than me.

There was a strange hesitation in the air, like I’d caught him off guard, but I held my ground, watching the way he carefully avoided my gaze. The silence stretched, and something shifted in the way the night felt around us.

Reaching into the other pocket of my jacket, I pulled out my own pack of cigarettes, the plastic wrapper crinkling softly under my fingers. I could feel the beginnings of a grin forming, but I bit it back, my focus entirely on the subtle task at hand.

When he looked back at me, his eyes widened for the briefest moment, a slight chuckle escaping him as he almost choked on the smoke that had been hanging in his mouth. It slipped from his lips in violent tendrils, twisting and scattering through the air, as if his breath itself was suddenly off-kilter.

I watched him carefully, a flutter in my chest, as I picked up my lighter and flicked it open with a soft click. The flame danced to life, casting a glow on my face that seems to give me a depth he’d never seen before. It was almost too intimate, the way the light shifted and shaped my features.

I held the cigarette between my fingers, the tip glowing bright, and without glancing at him, I exhaled a steady stream of smoke into the air, inhaling it back in with the practiced precision of someone who’d done this far too many times. The words slipped out before I could stop them, low and soft, like a secret I couldn’t quite keep to myself.

“Surprised?”

He didn’t answer right away. The smoke curled between us, swirling in the cool night air as I watched the horizon, city lights shimmering in the distance.

Then, finally, he exhaled, his breath a soft laugh, but it was quiet, almost reverent.

“I should have known.”

[alyjojo]

PAC - January 2025 - Who’s Stalking You? 👀

Pile 1: Whips 💥

This would probably be the first pile one thinks of when they think of their “stalkers” - jealous bitches 💯 of the worst variety. Whips with Fury shows them being so bitter they can’t stand it, like you’ve stolen their opportunities or blessings, it’s your fault they don’t have what you have - or they just hate you for it. These are people that do NOT want you to win, and if they had the choice, they’d enact some kind of revenge on you to make sure you don’t…but it feels like most are powerless to do so, that’s why they’re so bitter, they can only watch you win and be all pissed off about it.

This stems from feelings of regret, wishing they’d have made different decisions or were offered different opportunities. If you have money, they don’t. If you had some kind of blessing or privilege to your life, they don’t. For some reason they were/are unable to do what you do, and rather than admire you or give you your flowers 💐, they just burn inside because it’s not them. These are not self-aware or mature people, they feel powerless to direct their own life (valid or not), some may be genuinely struggling (they’re largely unconscious of this behavior) and others just suck and it’s definitely intentional hate & evil eyes 👀 being thrown your way every time you have something positive going on, or just you existing. Your light irritates tf out of their demons 😈 They are all unaware or don’t care that this kind of energy & behavior won’t get them anywhere positive.

I don’t see them changing either, if they’re unaware then they’re unable, this is not a growth-minded group of people. They’d rather blame everyone else and point fingers, nurturing revenge fantasies and hating you then ask how you did it, or learn from you. Patience can show they may have felt this way for a long time, there’s no helping them. While it does show they could be in a not great situation, it’s also showing you are not expected to give af, they’re assholes. Red Moon shows their intentions, perceptions, fears, and triggers as delusional, pessimistic, hateful, angry and toxic. You can’t help these people, it’s up to them to help themselves and with 9 Pentacles rev, they won’t. If you even tried, they’d just despise you for being a person that tries 😆 Do you. Keep shining 🌟

Signs: Heavy Virgo & Cancer, Taurus, Scorpio, Aries & Sagittarius - Jupiter Virgo, Mercury Taurus, Mars Scorpio

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Pile 2: Sun ☀️

You are the pearl in the oyster and this is the group of people that knows this but they don’t have you anymore, and they miss you. It’s also the pile most likely for you to give them a call, because for most it’s family. Parents, grandparents, ex’s that aren’t toxic, but most feel like guardians of some kind. Teachers, bosses, leaders, older siblings, people who tried to steer you in a direction that wasn’t for you - and you went your own way anyway and SUCCEEDED. That’s the thing, and there is shame here in these people…but it’s like the intentions were good? People misjudged you. They thought you were like them, or the rest, or some other experience that narrowed the mind and put you in a box.

All of you have reached some level of success, recognition, status, maybe fame in some way - or at least on the path you’re on, you’re well known. Or you will be. There’s guilt here about not supporting you in the way you needed, not loving you correctly, and ultimately losing you. Could be divorced parents for someone, an estranged parent, someone that…it’s like they didn’t believe in you, or brushed you off. Like your whole life you drew pictures and got in trouble - now you’re an artist, that’s the vibe. They know they can’t take credit and that they tried to force or steer you in directions that weren’t for you. If you’re one of several children, you could’ve all been parented the same way; these are the rules, these are the goals, in this family we all go to this college and study Business…and you’re the artist. Or the gay kid. Or the theater kid, I’m definitely getting theater strongly. That’s the vibe 💯

The point of it all is love, Eternal Love with the white heart is showing purity and coming from the right place, even if they were wrong. They want forgiveness, want you to call, if it’s an ex they see you clearly now and want you back. For some there was a particular event that caused an ending, there could’ve been heavy Judgment energy and a lack of feeling supported, some of you may have ran away or did something impulsively - or they did. It ended. There’s also a note here about passed on loved ones, if a tragedy happened where you couldn’t say goodbye or the last words were in anger/judgment, they’re okay, they’re with you all of the time and support you now 🙏 There’s no lingering anger just love.

If none of that applies, then these people simply miss the time they had with you, the lollipop 🍭 shows childhood - for most it’s your parents or someone like that. They’re nostalgic and look at old pictures of you, they miss the little kid coming in with muddy shoes even though they always yelled about it - now they wish they didn’t. This one made me cry ngl. Call your grandma or whoever this is…they feel like they can’t access you. Either you’re busy, they think you’re angry, they don’t want to impose, The Pathless shows them feeling like there are no options or you’re not on their path anymore and they can’t. For some that’s true. For others they’re leaving it up to you, but the love is genuine, they are both proud of you and ashamed of themselves in some way - maybe too much - and they don’t want you to know that, because they do want you to be happy. Even if you don’t, the love is never ending and they’ll just keep watching from afar 🧡 For the passed on loved ones, they know you’re sad or lonely without them, and they just want you to know they’re okay and they’re watching you WIN - they want you to win & they’re proud 👏

Signs: Heavy Scorpio & Cancer, Gemini & Capricorn - Saturn Gemini, Mars Taurus, Mars Aries

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Pile 3: Letter ✉️

Heh 😏 This is the “you were right” pile 😆 You are some sort of a teacher to this person, could be a parent, ex, friend, stranger, doesn’t matter - YOU are wise and they are/were…manipulative, liars, schemers, cheaters, fools of some variety, and you didn’t deserve it if they did any of that to you. Now it’s 50/50, sure some are sorry but they’ll never admit it; others would just do it again and they know they would, even if they also know you’re right.

Even if they’re wrong, and even if you’re often right, these people quietly judge everything you say or do just looking for the one thing that’s like SEE THEY’RE WRONG LIKE ME, like this somehow excuses their own shitty behavior. They think YOU think you’re better than them when you’re just an honest person, and you even drop some pearls of wisdom on them because you’re not a judging sort of person either - you share the wealth of whatever you’re doing. A genuinely kind person. So you are better, as a human generally. Fuck you though 😆 They could too but they’d rather be immature and sabotagy. These are also people you need to watch out for, they see your kindness as weakness, stupidity, or naïve - while also knowing you’re a good person like wtf guys…if you have a platform or social media, this would be the trash diggers of the bunch. Digging for trash so they can compare yours to theirs, you to them, and I’m seeing raccoons 🦝 which made me laugh. Some may want to or try to steal from or copy you, manipulate things, even try to flirt or butter you up - but it’s with this shady ass manipulative energy - it’s not going anywhere. You feel untouchable to them because they’re not on your level, whatever level that is, it’s that simple.

Letter shows you receiving good news, which makes these people squirm, anything positive being said about you or happening to you. Everyone has their haters /ignore. If you post helpful things, recipes, dance is here showing some amazing craft or talent you do, religious stuff, wholesome happy healthy anything - these people don’t understand wtf healthy or wholesome is, so they mock and criticize and dig for trash. Let them? I mean they’re still watching. Your biggest haters are clearly just misguided fans 🥳 Some may be complete strangers, most of them even, I don’t see these people being in your life for the most part, nor do I see you noticing or caring at all. You just keep doing you boo, clearly you’re doing something right or they wouldn’t have to dig so much for something that’s wrong. You’re out here dropping wisdom, knowledge, guidance, helpful advice, whatever - let them talk, at least they heard you, and if/when they find themselves in positions where they need what you’ve said, the best karma is the burn they feel when “you were right.” Unconsciously even, for most 🤗

Signs: Heavy Scorpio, Libra, Cancer & Taurus - Venus Sagittarius, Mars Virgo, Jupiter Scorpio, there’s also a Gemini vibe but it feels like you or communication is what it’s all regarding

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Pile 4: Garden 🪴

I’m getting two sets of people with this pile, the fans and the opposition.

The fans see you as a Muse, whatever it is that you do, you probably have a lot of friends, fans, admirers, love options potentially, and they’re afraid they don’t compare, that you don’t like them back or you’re out of their league. Deep rooted insecurity, shyness, projections - but essentially they just want to BE you or at least be in your energy. Some may want to be with you romantically, but that’s a side note not the main idea, most are fans. Friends, people that think you’re really cool and they wish they could hang out with you or do what you do. You’re like a guide for these people and they deeply appreciate your contribution to whatever it is you do 🥳 You may inspire them to make decisions in their own lives, and not even know it.

The opposition feels like “the patriarchy” or some shit, that’s the vibe. You don’t do things their way, you contradict their “facts”, they may not appreciate the gifts you have to offer and as such they only want to control, cage, maneuver, schedule, criticize, keep you small because how dare you be out here just doing you and being great at it. Or they feel that way about you and it’s all switched. You could be part of a group that is in opposition to another group and it’s the whole other group watching. It’s like white collar jobs vs. community volunteers, you can’t compete where you don’t compare and these people do not compare but they’d be the ones like “glad our tax dollars are going towards playgrounds”…shut up. No one cares. Luckily, this group is a scattered few.

Most are fans that ADORE you, your group or community, and whatever you’re doing. You inspire others and really make an impact with whatever you do. Teachers, counselors, community centered things, music directors, it feels very people oriented and not very rigid - it’s the rigid people with an issue or comment. “The man.” Does not have to be A man. I’m miserable and you should be too. I’m taught one way, you should be too. Ick. For some it’s literally the government or some higher organization that doesn’t support what you do. I’m seeing Planned Parenthood, don’t @ me I promise idgaf, I see what I see be mad. I’m also seeing charities…and what are those dances that everyone gets together on the street and films for TikTok or something, I’m seeing those too. Community support or a generational thing even, the boomers are mad at you guys 😆

The fans though, you’re making a difference in the lives of other people, changing perspectives, inspiring change, getting support, and you’re doing it in a way that’s giving people LIFE. Changing the narrative. Forging your own path with all of this Aries energy, both within and some stalkers maybe. Most people want to be you, or they want to help, want to take a part in this or have a seat at your table - in support. It’s admirable and most of you that chose this, I don’t get you being closed off to anyone, though they may fear it. Locked Heart ❤️ came out reversed, you’re someone always willing to make new friends, invite people to your table, it’s giving “the more the merrier,” which is great! Ignore the naysayers and let them squirm idk, for the most part it’s showing them as silent. In this pile, the winners are louder than the losers 📣 and if you’re feeling unappreciated, just know there are way more people that love and support you than hate you - you got the sauce and you’re widely adored. Idk if you’d even know the haters, they’re quiet and will stay that way, just leave ‘em be. You’re deeply appreciated where it matters 💚

Signs: Heavy Aries, Virgo, Leo & Capricorn - Jupiter Aries, Moon Leo

[dreameyess11]

𝒘𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆

Nicholas Chavez x Reader

You hadn’t expected to see him again.

It was one of those evenings where the city hummed with the noise of too many conversations and the clinking of glasses. The gallery was crowded, the air thick with pretension and the faint smell of paint, but you’d come because your friend needed support for her exhibit. You hadn’t expected him to walk through the door, but there he was. Nicholas Chavez, in all his maddening glory, wearing that lopsided smirk that you hated so much.

Or maybe you hated how it still made your heart race.

“Hey, stranger,” he said, his voice low and casual as he approached you. Too casual, considering how you’d left things.

You glanced up from your drink, letting your gaze rest on him for only a second before looking away. “Nicholas,” you said flatly. No smile, no warmth.

The last time you’d seen him had been months ago. That so-called “adventure,” as he had so flippantly called it later. For you, it had been chaos—intense, thrilling, and ultimately devastating. You’d fallen for his charm, his wit, the way he seemed to turn every moment into a movie scene. He had swept you up into a whirlwind of late nights and stolen glances, leaving you breathless and raw.

And then he’d left.

No explanation, no warning—just gone. A cryptic text weeks later had offered little closure: *It was fun while it lasted, huh?*

You’d hated him ever since.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, keeping your tone sharp.

“Supporting the arts,” he said, feigning innocence. He picked up a wine glass from a passing tray and leaned against the wall, as if the room existed solely for his benefit. “And maybe hoping to run into someone.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

He chuckled softly, the sound like a dagger to your chest. “Come on, don’t be like that. You can’t tell me you didn’t miss me. Even a little?”

You wanted to tell him exactly how much you hadn’t missed him. How his absence had been like a relief, a weight lifted. But the words stuck in your throat because, if you were honest, there had been moments—late at night, when the city was quiet and your thoughts ran wild—when you’d wondered if he’d think of you. If he’d regret leaving.

And now, here he was, with that infuriating smile and those dark eyes that saw through you too easily.

“I didn’t,” you lied.

He tilted his head, studying you. “Liar.”

You stepped closer, your voice low and cutting. “Do you know how much I hate you, Nicholas?”

He didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. Instead, he leaned in, so close you could smell the faint trace of his cologne. “If that’s true,” he murmured, “then why are you still standing here?”

Your breath caught, your heart betraying you with its rapid beat. You wanted to slap him, to walk away and never look back. But part of you stayed rooted, drawn to him in ways you couldn’t explain or justify.

“I don’t owe you anything,” you said finally, stepping back. “Not my time, not my attention, not even my anger.”

He looked at you for a long moment, something unreadable flickering across his face. Then he nodded, the smirk fading. “Fair enough.”

And just like that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, your chest tight and your mind reeling.

You hated him.

You hated that part of you still didn’t want him to leave.

[thanossssss]

regressor namgyu fic? :D he’s rotting my brain atm..

Regressor! Nam-gyu w/ Caregiver! Thanos

Summary: Nam-gyu just being very cuddly towards Thanos.

Contains: Age regression, cuddling, fluff.

A/N: This turned out a lot shorter than I expected, which I am a bit disappointed about, but I do think it turned out alright. I also wasn’t sure if you wanted Nam-gyu to be paired with anyone, so I decided to just write him with Thanos since I thought that was easier. If you wanted something with just him and no caregiver (or someone different) let me know and I can write something else!

Not proofread.

The concept of personal space didn’t really exist to Nam-gyu, especially when he’d regress. He was very touchy and found comfort being close to Thanos. He loved clinging to him, holding his hand, sitting in his lap, any type of physical contact made him happy.

Thanos wasn’t as big of a fan of physical affection like Nam-gyu was, but he didn’t mind it. It was also one of the few things that kept Nam-gyu content while he was tiny and prevented him from getting up to trouble, so that was definitely a plus.

Soft hums came from Nam-gyu, who sat as close as he possibly could to Thanos. His head was lying on the other’s shoulder while he held onto Thanos’s hand with both of his. Nam-gyu smiled as he quietly played with the ring on Thanos’s finger, pulling on it gently and spinning it around.

While Nam-gyu was happy and occupied, Thanos used his free hand to scroll on his phone. He would’ve just watched tv, but it was currently playing a cartoon he had put on for Nam-gyu. And while he wasn’t watching it, Thanos knew that if he changed the channel, Nam-gyu would most likely get upset and claim that he was watching the show, even though he clearly wasn’t.

After some time, Thanos felt Nam-gyu move his head slightly. He looked over at him, only to see Nam-gyu staring at him. He immediately smiled when Thanos turned his attention to him.

“What are you looking at?” Thanos asked quietly in a joking manner as he smiled. Nam-gyu only giggled at him, before letting go of his hand and wrapping his arms around Thanos’s arm.

Thanos chuckled softly as he set his phone down, then began to ruffle Nam-gyu’s hair. More giggles left from Nam-gyu, who clung to Thanos’s arm even tighter. When his giggles calmed down, Nam-gyu decided to crawl into Thanos’s lap.

“You want to sit in my lap, little man? Is that what you want?” Nam-gyu’s smile was big as he nodded. Thanos grinned at the male, before wrapping his arm around him and moving him closer.

Nam-gyu cooed happily when he was brought closer. He laid his head down and began to chew on the sleeve of his shirt while staring at Thanos. Thanos kept his arm wrapped tightly around Nam-gyu and, with his other hand, ran his fingers through his hair.

Nam-gyu laid there peacefully in Thanos’s arms, only feeling the feelings of complete happiness and safety. He never wanted it to end. He never wanted to leave Thanos’s embrace.

[moonlit-ivy-writes]

You sat in your car with the engine idling, music blasting at full volume. Tears burned in your eyes as you fought desperately to hold them back. Your grip on the steering wheel was so tight your knuckles had turned white. The thought of driving off the edge of the cliff played over and over in your mind. Few things in life cut deeper than heartbreak. You were parked in the spot where you and Saturo used to escape from the world. You once joked that couples in the '50s used to come here to make out. It probably wasn’t the most ideal comment to make on your first date, but eventually, this became the place where the two of you came to do just that. The cliff offered a breathtaking view of the city below. From up here, the chaos of the bustling streets seemed to dissolve into a peaceful, almost surreal stillness. This place was your sanctuary, a retreat from the fast-paced world. You and Toru would spend hours here, sitting on the hood of his car, gazing at the stars and losing yourselves in endless conversations. You’d debate theories, sometimes playfully arguing about whether aliens truly existed.

“Okay, get this: the Loch Ness Monster is jumping through dimensions,” you said, chewing on a piece of licorice. Your feet were propped up on the dash, and Satoru sat in the driver’s seat, turned toward you with a puzzled look on his face.

“Y/N…”

“What?” you replied, tossing a piece of candy into his lap.

“You’re cute,” he said with a laugh.

“Okay, but just humor me. Buy into parallel universes for one second.”

“Fine, I’ll bite,” Gojo said, leaning back into his seat and popping a piece of your candy into his mouth. He looked at you, clearly intrigued, as you launched into your theory.

“So, ancient aliens believed that the Egyptians used certain minerals or elements to build things because of the energy they gave off or whatever,” you began, gesturing animatedly. “Well, that lake is full of quartz. So if you believe that energy can be harnessed enough to create, like, a black hole or a portal into another dimension, maybe that’s what’s happening. Maybe the Loch Ness Monster is real, but it’s only there when it’s slipping in and out between its world and ours. Think of that lake as, like, the Bermuda Triangle.”

Gojo couldn’t hide his amusement as he watched you dive deeper into your theory, your voice growing more animated and your hands gesturing wildly. He leaned his head against the seat, grinning as your nose scrunched up in excitement.

“I could see that,” he said with a chuckle. But his attention wasn’t on your theory anymore—it was on you. The way your eyes lit up, the way your laugh bubbled out of you as you got caught up in your own thoughts. In that moment, time seemed to stop for him. All he could do was smile and wonder how someone could make the universe feel so small and perfect with just a laugh.

You sniffled out of your flashback, back to reality. You were alone in the car. Alone with two bottles of liquor in your passenger seat. You grabbed one bottle and twisted the cap, downing the cheap vodka with no chaser. You pitied yourself. How could you let a person get to you like this? Falling for him had been inevitable, like running down a steep hill and suddenly stumbling over your steps, tumbling to the ground, and continuing to roll.

You stared at the broken handle on the passenger side, the memory fueling a fire in your heart.

“Not so fast, Satoru,” you pleaded as he ripped the buttons on your jean jacket, trying to rid you of as many layers as he could.

“I can’t help it. I need you right now,” he said, kissing you roughly, his urgency undeniable as he tried to deflower you in the passenger seat. You sat on top of him, too tall, having to lean over so your head didn’t hit the ceiling.

“I'm feeling claustrophobic,” you complained, your foot getting smashed between the seat and the car door as you hastily searched for the door handle. Satoru tried to help you, but the two of you looked like you were playing a game of Twister. Tangled up in each other, he grabbed the handle, pulling it—and breaking it off.

“Satoru!” you yelled, trying to keep a straight face. “my car!”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’ll fix it, I swear!” he stammered, trying to fit the lever back onto the hinge, but it was no use. You both fumbled to escape through the driver’s door. You scraped your knee on the ground, landing with a thud.

“Maybe trying to go at it in the front seat wasn’t the best idea,” you said, standing up and giving your boyfriend a stern look. Then you noticed he was still holding the door handle in his hand.

“Well, where were we?” he asked with a grin, tossing the handle into the front seat and shutting the car door. Backing you up against it, he leaned down, his lips meeting yours. You stumbled onto your tiptoes, trying to meet him halfway. He deepened the kiss, his hands sliding under your shirt.

“Hey, hey, hey,” you nudged him back. “We can’t just—”

“Look around, Y/N,” he said, gesturing to the vast expanse of woods and rock. “No one’s going to catch us.”

You couldn’t deny the thrill of the idea. Smiling, you grabbed his face and pulled him in for another kiss. “Let’s hope we don’t get caught,” you said with a giggle.

With that, he lifted you onto the hood of your car. His hands gripped your thighs, sliding your skirt up over his fingers. You felt his fingertips trace your panty line, tugging at the fabric. Helping him, you shimmied out of the unwanted clothing, pulling at his shirt, eager to feel his skin.

The two of you became entangled once more, this time more comfortably. Satoru peppered sweet kisses along your shoulder, the warmth of his lips making your skin tingle. You moaned softly as he bit gently at your skin, his teeth grazing just enough to leave a delicious ache.

“Baby, you smell so good,” he murmured, inhaling your perfume as he nuzzled his face into your chest. His hands explored your body with a reverence that made your breath hitch, his fingertips tracing every curve as if memorizing them. Slowly, his kisses trailed down your torso, leaving a path of warmth and longing in their wake until he reached your inner thigh.

You felt a flicker of nervousness about being so exposed to the open air. The vast sky stretched endlessly above you, the cool breeze a stark contrast to the heat building between you. But as Satoru’s lips pressed against your skin, the thought quickly vanished. Every soft, teasing kiss he placed made your heart race, his tongue grazing your delicate folds with an unrelenting hunger that sent shivers down your spine.

He devoured you completely, barely coming up for air, his hands holding your hips firmly in place as your fingers tangled in his hair. The sound of his name tumbling from your lips, a melody of pleasure and need that only spurred him on. You felt the tension in your body coil tighter and tighter, until finally, it snapped, sending waves of ecstasy washing over you as you called out his name in pure bliss. "Satoru-I," you catch your breath and sigh deeply as your climax dissipates. The only words you can string together being, "That felt amazing." 

As your breathing slowed and your senses returned, Satoru looked up at you with a soft smile, his lips glistening as he leaned forward to press a kiss against your trembling thigh. “You’re amazing,” he murmured, his voice thick with adoration, making your heart flutter all over again. 

The distant sound of an engine snapped you out of your thoughts, pulling you back to the harsh reality of the present. For a moment, you blinked, disoriented by the shift from the warmth of your memories to the cold solitude of your car. Surprised, you noticed headlights approaching the cliffside. Ducking down in your seat, you peeked cautiously over the steering wheel. A car pulled up to the next ledge, its lights flicking off as the cabin was bathed in dim interior light. Squinting, you tried to make out the driver’s identity. This place had always been a hidden refuge, known to only a select few. Your heart dropped as the cabin lights revealed the driver. The white hair was unmistakable—Satoru.

You watched as he got out of the driver’s seat, seemingly unaware of your presence. He walked around to the passenger side, opening the door for someone else. A beautiful girl stepped out, her laughter echoing faintly in the night air.

“Wow, Satoru, this view is incredible!” she said, her voice carrying effortlessly across the stillness.

Your heart ached as you watched them together, their closeness like a distant echo of what you once had. Tears blurred your vision, warm streaks against the cool air creeping in through the window. This spot, your haven, now felt like a cruel reminder of everything you’d lost. The way he looked at her—like she was the only person in the world—cut deeper than you thought possible. You gripped the steering wheel, your knuckles whitening, trying to hold yourself together. How could he bring her here? To the place where your laughter once mingled with his, where he promised forever under the stars? It felt like those promises had been swept away by the same wind that now carried her laughter, leaving behind only an unbearable silence.

As he leaned against his car, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, something caught his eye. His gaze shifted, narrowing slightly as he focused on your car parked a short distance away. You froze, holding your breath, willing yourself to disappear. For a moment, it seemed like he recognized the familiar outline of your vehicle. His expression faltered, just briefly, before he turned back to the girl, brushing it off like a fleeting thought.

But the damage was done. He had seen it. You knew he had. And the realization sat heavy in your chest. He looked back once more, his eyes narrowing as if piecing together a half-forgotten puzzle. For a moment, the girl’s voice seemed to fade entirely, his focus anchored to the car that sat just yards away. You slumped lower in your seat, every nerve on edge as you silently pleaded for him to look away.

Then, his expression shifted—a flicker of recognition, brief but undeniable. The corners of his mouth twitched, caught somewhere between hesitation and resolve. His hand dropped from the girl’s shoulder as his gaze lingered on your car, the weight of it almost unbearable. You could feel your heart pounding against your ribs, your breath shallow and uneven as if the air itself had thickened.

Finally, he turned back to her, forcing a smile as if shaking off the moment. But as they moved closer to the edge, laughing softly under the stars, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he had known. That somewhere deep down, he had recognized not just the car but the ghost of what you once shared. And now, that unspoken acknowledgment left you drowning, the silence between you heavier than any words could ever be.