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samiiy20 · 5 months ago

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♡ 𝑳𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝑴𝒚 𝑩𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 ♡

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: Lee Minho x fem!reader 𝑆𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠: When you thought it was finally your time to shine, fate plays against you by pairing you with the person you hate the most, making you have to work together to win a dance competition. 𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: Slow burn, rivals/enemies to lovers, smut 𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 11k (damn it, sorry) 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒖𝒕

N/A: Sorry for the wait, but here it is at last. I'm actually really proud of this, it's my longest work so far so if you like it please reblog it, that would help me a lot. I thought of making this a sort of mini series of the kind of love you would have with the other members, so look out for news soon.

masterlist II tag list

This content NOT is for minors!!!

This is merely entertainment, this does not represent any real person.

It is forbidden to copy or translate my work.

English NO is my first language.

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Mention of anxiety attacks (if you are sensitive don't read it) Insults, nicknames: (darling) ,unprotected sex (don't do it), semi-public sex, oral sex, fingering. (I'm sorry if I forgot something) A little bit of angust if you squint your eyes.

Dancing was everything to you, ever since you could remember you knew you were destined to shine on stage, although it wasn't always easy. Over the years you had to do many things, you gave up many others and even lost relationships with important people to pursue your dreams, you worked very hard to get into a prestigious academy and when you finally did you worked even harder to make a name for yourself in the industry, but it was harder than you thought, but still you weren't willing to give up.

You trained for a long time, so much that sometimes you forgot the hours you spent in the practice room, but when your name was among the highest positions you felt that everything was worth it, but there were times when you felt the opposite, no matter how much you concentrated and dedicated time sometimes it wasn't enough, that's why you were determined to win this competition.

When you heard your name you took a breath and ignored all the looks from your classmates and went on stage. The pressure in your chest increased with each step, but you continued walking until you reached the center and looked up to try to see the judges, but with the light reflecting off you it was impossible to know where they were.

You got into position, raised your arms, stretched your legs and stood on your toes.

The music resonated loudly throughout the place, but only you could feel it running through your veins as you danced, it was as if it entered your body and took control of it. You felt like you were in another place when you danced, you felt like for a moment everything else ceased to exist and there was only room for the music.

You gave every part of yourself to that dance and when the music finally stopped you were aware of your heart beating strongly. You opened your eyes and you were back on stage. Your breathing was accelerated and your feet hurt, but you could only smile as you tried to recover.

“Thank you very much” you gave a small bow, giving way to the nerves that invaded your body and you left the stage to wait for the judges’ final decision. The other people waited just as anxiously as they watched the number of participants getting smaller and smaller.

You stayed to look at the others, but none of them was better than the last, many fell or made mistakes because of their nerves and that only made you feel more confident for a moment, until you saw him.

Lee Minho.

He was new, but he earned the teachers’ recognition easily, something that bothered you since it took you several years for the teacher to even remember your name, but after finding out that his family was rich and had enough money to buy a place anywhere it only made your hatred towards him grow.

You always avoided him wherever you went and if you met him by mistake you just ignored him, you couldn’t stand people like him, crushing the effort and time of others just for a little money.

Still, what bothered you the most about him was that despite everything he did pretty well. When it was his turn, people crowded behind the curtains to watch him and you rolled your eyes, but you didn't leave.

“He's amazing” you heard someone say “he's sure to get the lead role” you sighed heavily and turned to see the person who said that comment in your presence and he just lowered his head when your eyes met.

The music started playing through the speakers and he made the first move. You knew the choreography by heart, you had seen him practice over and over again. His movements were delicate and he had perfect control over his body, his arms moved to the beat of the music and his feet marked his steps with harmony.

Lee Minho had a unique glow among everyone, he stood out among the rest with his simplicity and fluid movements, in addition, he was tall, with a sharp face and full lips, but his gaze was cold and calculating. It was like Minho was born with a natural talent that made him steal the attention in any room he entered and that, too, bothered you.

You peeked your head out a little and saw how everyone was lost appreciating his dance, a small part inside you knew it, knew that all your effort had been for nothing (again) and it was all because of him. You walked away from the place with a cloud of ideas in your head and you felt a pressure in your chest and labored breathing, you looked around but your vision began to get blurry.

“Shit” you whispered trying to find a lonely place because you knew what was coming.

You tried to control yourself, but every second that passed was worse. Your hands began to shake and you felt an invisible pressure surround your body, but you let out a small sigh of relief when you saw the bathroom door.

You ran and checked that there was no one there before closing the door and collapsing on the floor. There was no air left and you felt like you could faint at any moment.

You closed your eyes and tried to control your tears, but you knew it was impossible with all those thoughts tormenting you, so you let the sorrow envelop you.

When you came out of the bathroom again, everyone was gathered to hear the judges' decision. Despite your swollen eyes and red nose, you walked among everyone with your head held high and noticed Minho in the distance along with two other people, but you sat far away from the rest, where the shadows would hide you a little.

Everyone was nervous and you could feel the uncertainty in the environment, you just wanted all this to end so you could breathe.

The judges approached where everyone was gathered and the room was filled with absolute silence, everyone was holding hands or praying in their heads to be chosen, but everyone knew that only one could have the lead role.

“First of all we want to thank you for participating in this competition, you have all done amazing” you rolled your eyes, you didn’t have time to listen to a whole sermon, you just wanted to hear your name or leave that place “but after discussing it for a while we have made an important decision” everyone in the room had stopped breathing and you could see some of them closing their eyes.

You hated the wait, the silence was eating you up inside and everything around you seemed to shrink, people seemed to have disappeared and you were alone, there was no one who could help you with the pressure that was taking over you, you were cursing in your mind until suddenly between the fog of thoughts you heard your name.

Everyone turned to look at you and a few applauded, but most just sighed tiredly from the defeat. “Please come forward.” You were still dizzy, but as best you could, you stood up and walked past the judges. The weight of your body vanished when you saw everyone on the other side and you knew it had all been worth it.

You dared to look at them one by one, but when you met Minho’s gaze, you stopped to savor the victory. Minho just narrowed his eyes and smiled. You felt a shiver run through your body when he looked you up and down.

“Please don’t be discouraged,” said one of the judges. “We have something new for this occasion.” The people again became agitated and the whispers became louder and louder. “This time we have decided to give the opportunity to two people.”

“What?!” Your voice wasn't the only one that echoed through the place, everyone was surprised by the new announcement and you didn't know how to react, this had been your chance to shine and now you'll have to share it? People were once again in an uproar and the whispers were getting louder, but your mind could only think of the worst.

“We want to implement a new dynamic” said another of the judges present to calm the people “so the other person will be…” people were once again in an uproar, you closed your eyes praying for a miracle but then you heard it “Lee Minho”

You heard some people sigh, others applaud and shout, but in your mind there was only room for one thought as you saw Minho's triumphant smile approaching. You wanted to run, scream, throw yourself through the window and run away from here, but your feet didn't move, you were static with a lost look while Minho stood next to you.

“It will be a pleasure to work with you, darling,” he whispered to you while the judges were still saying something that you couldn't understand while your heart was pounding hard in your chest wanting to get out, the only thing you wanted at this moment was to wake up from this nightmare.

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You had prepared yourself hours before for this moment, you had arrived about 10 minutes ago, but you couldn't even raise your hand to knock knowing that on the other side was your worst nightmare. You breathed a few more times and counted in your head to do it, but the right moment never seemed to come.

"Damn it" you whispered trying again, you closed your eyes and tried to breathe calmly "one… Two…"

"Just do it" You opened your eyes and turned to that unknown voice, but you would have preferred not to.

Minho was in the hallway leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a backpack on his shoulders.

"How long have you been there?"

"The same amount of time you've been trying to knock on that door" you sighed and for a moment you felt embarrassed "it's not that hard, you know?"

You weren't going to talk to him if it wasn't necessary and after the small humiliation you finally decided to open the door. The room was empty and you got worried when you heard footsteps behind you, but you didn't turn around to look at him.

You threw your stuff in a corner and sat on the floor, you knew the teacher wouldn't be long in coming so you decided to start stretching.

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Minho in the other corner of the room, his gaze on you was heavy and although you tried to ignore it something inside you made you want to look at him, dare him.

You dared to look at him in the mirror and held his gaze, no words were needed to read the anger in his eyes, you knew he would have preferred to keep the spot for himself too, but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of giving up your spot just because of his presence.

Before you could say or do anything, the teacher entered the room and began giving them orders. You took a breath and silently prayed that you could survive the rest of the day.

“That’s it” you dropped to the floor as soon as the teacher turned around and walked out the door. You didn’t expect her to be more strict than in class, your feet hurt and your whole body felt tense, but according to her this was nothing more than stretching.

“I don’t understand why they chose you” Minho said suddenly starting his game to annoy you, but you ignored him knowing that it would annoy him more “anyone would do it better than you” you pressed your lips together to hold back the words, but you were starting to feel that little flame inside you start to burn

“Then why aren’t they here?” you answered, unable to hold it in and grabbed your things to leave before you lost control.

You left the room as quickly as possible and ran down the stairs to enter the classroom, where the atmosphere was no better than being alone with Minho. You knew there was hate and envy floating in the air, but you ignored it. You always knew that sometimes people hid their true intentions and you were terrified of hanging out with the wrong person, which is why you preferred to be alone.

The class wasn't the best either and you just left there as soon as your day was over. The way home was long, but you preferred to walk to clear your mind a little, but when you got there you just sighed because you knew no one would welcome you.

Sometimes you just wanted someone to talk to you a little, to accompany you to dinner or to invite you out at night, but all you had was an old cat that only meowed when he saw you arrive, but even so you were all you had and you loved him.

You picked him up in your arms and stroked his head as you threw your things away to head to the kitchen.

“Did you miss me?” the cat purred and you let him go to leave him food that he thanked you for by meowing before eating.

Your night routine was nothing special, eating, bathing, watching your favorite series and going to bed leaving a space in the bed for your cat. You looked at the window and sighed wondering if all your decisions in the past were the best idea, you used to have friends, you got the best grades in university and your parents had been proud of you once. You turned over in bed when you felt your cat and hugged him trying to hold back your tears.

“Do you love me?” the cat meowed and you burst into tears feeling an emptiness in your chest.

You had pursued your dreams, but at what cost?

You had lost everything.

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The next day wasn't any better than the day before, or the next, or the next. The whole week you found yourself stuck in a routine between having to endure seeing Minho's face every day, having to endure the hateful looks of your classmates, and your boring routine at home.

The days didn't seem to get any better and when the teacher finally decided on the choreography they would present you were a little happy.

"Okay, now we'll start the real classes" the teacher proceeded to explain that she had been analyzing them to see their strengths and weaknesses, she made some recommendations and then proceeded to show them the dance floor while she performed each one's part separately. You memorized all the steps you could and went over them in your head "your turn"

You didn't turn to look at Minho and you stood in the center of the dance floor waiting for the music to start playing, but when you felt Minho stand behind you and place a hand on your waist you looked at him in the mirror. He didn't look down and you tensed up a little taking a step forward, but he grabbed you and came close to your ear.

“Don't look at me, darling, I wasn't the one who put the steps”

“Don't call me that” Minho just smiled and before you could say anything else the music started and you just rolled your eyes and focused on dancing.

The times you had to interact with Minho your body would get tense and you couldn't stand to look at him, you looked away somewhere else and just focused on doing it right on your own. The teacher corrected the mistakes and they repeated the choreography over and over again, but that didn't make the experience of dancing with Minho any better.

“Again”

You held back a sigh and closed your eyes, your head was starting to hurt. You got into position and took a breath to endure it all again, even though your legs were burning from the effort you were making.

You felt a look and looked up only to see Minho squinting, you hated the way he looked at you, as if you were a sculpture he didn't understand and tried to decipher, as if his gaze could make him see beyond your head and be able to see your thoughts.

“Stop looking at me”

“You're shaking” you gritted your teeth and just looked away “are you scared?”

The music started to play and you moved to the side following the steps, but when you were close to him again you couldn't stay quiet.

“Scared? Of what exactly?” Minho took your hand and you stood on your toes on one foot while he spun you around “of you?”

“Yes” You rolled your eyes at the same time he let go and you continued dancing until you were facing him.

“Don’t make me laugh” Minho grabbed you by the waist and you let your weight fall back while stretching your arms “I feel nothing for you but hate” you heard a dry laugh

“It must be hard, right?” you raised your eyebrows, but you didn’t stop dancing around him while the music was still playing “I can’t feel hate for you” you missed a step because of his words and you only heard the teacher’s voice in the distance while your thoughts were scrambling in your head, what did that mean?

“You lie”

“I don’t” he said when you crossed in front of him and when you were in front of him again for a second to gain momentum and jump you heard him “the only thing I feel for you is pity”

His words echoed in your mind, you didn’t notice how close the floor was and you stumbled. You fell to your knees, but you didn’t try to get up. His words affected you more than you thought and it made you burn inside

“Get up girl, this isn’t over” the teacher’s voice made you look up, but then someone interrupted in the room “take a break” she said before leaving them

You looked at the floor as Minho’s words echoed over and over in your head. You wanted to throw yourself at him, hit him, yell at him, but instead you just closed your eyes and tried to think of something else.

“You’re pathetic” you looked up, but you didn’t care much until he spoke again “you haven’t done anything to deserve the position”

You wouldn’t let that go unnoticed, he could have said anything else and you would get angry, but he didn’t know all the effort and sacrifice you had made to get here and you wouldn’t let him say that lightly. You stood up and closed the distance, you pushed his chest, but his crooked smile only made you want to hit him with all your might.

"You're nobody to say that," you pointed a finger at his chest as he raised his hands, "you know nothing."

"Do you think that with your miserable efforts you'll reach the top?" The rage inside you was spilling out everywhere and there was nothing that could stop it.

"I've worked hard to be here…" your voice cracked a little, but you continued "But of course, you wouldn't understand… after all, your place was already bought from the beginning" the words were left floating in the air and you noticed how his smile faded, his eyes were two burning black points that would burn the world if they could, but you stayed there, burning with him.

Minho couldn't stand being around you, everything about you made him ignite the anger inside him, your mere presence in the room bothered him, since he saw you dance for the first time he knew it immediately, you were that kind of person that bothered him more than anything in the world, that kind of deluded person that risks everything for their dreams.

“Your efforts are of no use here, darling,” he said suddenly, you clenched the shirt in your fists as he held your hands, “you are pathetic wherever you go,” his voice was filled with hate and you could see it in his eyes, “why don’t you do everyone a favor and go back to where you belong? To that filthy little place…”

His words were choked off before you could allow him to continue, you had freed yourself from his grip and left a mark on his cheek. You weren’t going to let him continue talking badly about you, you had enough with having to share the position, you wouldn’t let him insult you in any other way.

Your eyes were burning and you didn’t know how to speak, so you just pushed him away and got out of there, you ran through the hallways with a pressure in your chest that you already knew. You opened the first door you found and locked yourself in one of the empty rooms before falling again.

You touched your chest and tried to take a breath, but you knew it was useless, that lonely and empty feeling had made itself present and you knew you couldn't do anything to stop it. You stifled a scream deep inside yourself when you remembered his words, everything around you faded away and you let yourself be carried away to the depths of that feeling.

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The hatred for Minho did nothing but grow from that day on, you didn't speak to him if he spoke to you at all and you didn't even bother to look at him anymore. Plus, you were fighting the inner voice in your head that screamed all your doubts about your future.

You had so many other things to think about, like for example the choreography you were dancing, but with everything else you couldn't think clearly and you were making too many mistakes, so much so that the teacher had left a while ago, but Minho insisted on continuing and you simply agreed almost without realizing it.

"To the right" you heard before colliding with Minho "don't you know where your right is?" you rolled your eyes and sighed, you no longer had the spirit to continue doing this, your body was tired and your mind scrambled with a thousand thoughts. Plus, you weren't going to put up with Minho's insults.

You walked around the room and grabbed your things, but before you left the room Minho crossed your path. You looked up angrily and sighed.

“Get away”

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked as you stepped aside and he did the same “this isn’t over”

“It’s over for me” once again he blocked your path and you gritted your teeth

“No” you closed your eyes tired of all this

“I won’t say it again” you warned him pointing your finger at his chest, but that didn’t seem to intimidate him

“You’re not taking this seriously”

“As if that matters to you” you said with venom in every word “after this you can continue as if nothing happened” Minho let out a sigh

“You think so?” you hesitated to answer him for a moment, you didn’t know what he meant, but it seemed like there was something else behind his words, but right now you didn’t care.

“Move” Minho blocked your way again and you were starting to get annoyed again

“We have to do this”

“What if I don’t want to do this? What are you going to do?” Minho stood there and you threw things aside, you pushed his body but he didn’t move “Why are you even doing this? You’ve never had to fight for what you want” you said feeling like everything you had kept inside was starting to emerge “I’m tired of doing everything just for nothing” you said almost like a confession while you were still trying to push him away

“Do you think you’re the only one who has problems?”

“Of course not, but…” you took a breath, this was absurd “do you even know everything I had to go through to get here? Of course not, you don’t know shit” you took a breath and threw out your words before he did it first “I had to give up a good life, with a good career, where I was sure I would make tons of money, I had friends until I found out they were just idiots” your voice started to break as you remembered everything, but you needed to continue, keeping everything to yourself for so long consumed you and you just let it out like a bomb that had been activated and couldn’t be stopped “my parents… they decided to act like I didn’t exist because this path wouldn’t take me anywhere and when I tried to prove them wrong… you appear…” you hit his chest and bowed your head shedding your tears.

Minho had remained silent, he felt uncomfortable and didn’t know what to say or do, he just stood there watching you break down little by little and your eyes spilled the sea of tears that you had held back for so long.

He didn't want to say it and he wasn't going to, but a part of him knew how you felt, he knew that feeling and when you looked up at him he could see it, he could see the emptiness in your eyes and the loneliness inside you, but he couldn't do anything but look at you.

After coming back to reality you realized that you were crying in front of Minho, shame took over you and you just pushed him with all your strength and ran down the hall, you needed to get away from that place, you needed to get away from Minho, get away from all the thoughts that ran through your mind and clouded your vision, but you knew that no matter how hard you ran you had nowhere to go.

With your heart racing, your mind clouded and your vision blurry you managed to reach the stairs, but before you could continue moving forward someone called you, you turned around for a second and saw Minho running after you. You took a wrong step and felt your foot slip.

The last thing you felt was the immense, sharp pain of the blows to your body and foot. When you finished rolling down the stairs, all you could see was the ceiling covered in a bit of darkness. You couldn't move even if you tried. The floor seemed comforting for a moment and you stayed there, right in that position while everything around you seemed to fade away along with everything else.

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You were sitting in one of the many seats in the theater, front row, but you were too small and you just wanted to go home to play, but your mother asked you to be patient. Suddenly the lights went out and you felt a shiver run through your body when you noticed someone walking on the stage and then, the lights turned on focusing on her.

The music started playing and she began to dance, her hands moved delicately and it seemed like her feet made her float in the air. You were left with your mouth open and the whole time you had the feeling of watching the best thing in the world. When everything was over the theater was filled with applause, everyone seemed to admire and adore her.

At that moment you knew, you wanted to be like her.

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Tears were still running from your eyes when you woke up, your head and some parts of your body hurt, you remembered the fall on the stairs and you reacted, but when you sat up you realized you weren't in the academy. You were in a big bed with sheets covering your body and a rag on your head, everything around you was unknown and an alarm went off inside you.

You quickly sat up pushing the sheets, but when you tried to stand up your foot felt a pain that made you fall to the floor. You cursed and grabbed the edge of the bed to stand up again, but when you poked your head out you saw a cat in the middle of the bed that meowed when it saw you, but it made you let out a small cry from the fright.

The door suddenly opened and you stood still when you saw Minho.

“What are you doing on the floor?”

“You? What are you doing here?” Minho raised his eyebrows and a small smile appeared on his face

“It’s my house”

“What?!” You stood up with effort and complained a little about the sharp pain in your foot

“You fell down the stairs” Minho ran his hands through his hair and you noticed that he seemed tired “I… didn’t know what to do” your eyes met for a moment, but the next second you looked away remembering everything that had happened “I don’t know where you live… nobody really does” you bit your lip when you heard it and everything seemed to make sense

You felt embarrassed, thinking that Minho helped you after everything you confessed, but, even so, that didn’t free you from everything he had said about you. You sat on the edge of the bed because of a sharp pain in your foot and looked at your foot.

He was kneeling and you were scared for a moment thinking that you wouldn’t be able to dance, although a part of you was glad about it.

“You’ll be fine in a few days, it’s just a small sprain” Minho said

“How do you know?”

“I’ve been through something similar” you looked at your foot again, you didn’t know how long it would take for the swelling to go down and you sighed “that’s nothing, you’ll be able to walk in a couple of days”

The cat meowed taking you both out of its bubble, Minho approached and picked it up petting it, reminding you of your own cat.

“I have to go” you said hurriedly

“It’s raining” you paid attention for a moment and looked at the window to see that the sky was grey and the glass was full of small drops of water

“Shit” you complained

“You can stay”

“No” you said getting up and trying to take a few steps, but you stumbled, although you didn’t fall “it’s too late”

“Then let me take you home”

“No”

“Are you planning to walk in the rain in that state?” His gaze scanned you from top to bottom and stopped at your aching foot. You gritted your teeth. You knew you couldn’t walk, but you weren’t going to accept Minho doing anything else for you, not after what happened before.

“If I have to crawl home, I will do it just to be away from you.” Minho sighed and let go of the cat as he took a few steps to where you were. You wanted to get away, but you couldn’t and you just looked up.

“Then let me…”

“No, I won’t allow you to keep doing… this,” you said, raising your arms. “I don’t need your mercy, or your help. I can do it alone like I always have.” Minho stood still, looking at you with a strange expression that you couldn’t understand. “Do you expect me to thank you? Is that why you did all this?”

“No” Minho walked away without another word, but before reaching the door he stopped “If you want to leave someone else can take you home, if not, you can crawl home to get away from me” the cat got off the bed and followed him when you heard his last words “but not forever, darling”

The ride home was silent, the driver didn't speak to you besides asking your address but you were grateful for that, you didn't want to talk, you just wanted to get home and lie down on the bed. Although questions about Minho were starting to form in your mind.

When you opened the door a loud meow greeted you and you could only sigh in relief to see your cat. You picked him up and walked through the house to go give him some food.

“I’m sorry baby, I know you’re hungry” you said petting him when he took a big bite of the food “I was… busy” you knew it was absurd to try to explain it to him, but still something inside you needed to get it out “actually… I don’t know what happened” you sat on the floor and spread your legs while petting the feline “I fell down the stairs and then someone… helped me, although I don’t understand why, he didn’t owe me anything” you sighed and looked at the ceiling “he’s… he’s… an idiot, right?” the cat just meowed and kept eating.

That night you couldn’t sleep well, you had very strange dreams where Minho appeared and every time you woke up you hit yourself on the head to make him go away, but you couldn’t do it, plus you felt like his damn scent had stayed with you and you screamed into the pillow when you couldn’t do anything to get rid of it.

You tossed and turned in bed, but nothing could take your thoughts away from Minho and you hated him. You needed to calm down, but anything you thought about reminded you of him. You stared at the ceiling for what seemed like an eternity and when you were finally managing to fall asleep it was when you thought of dark, cold, calculating eyes.

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Your foot still hurt a little, but you could bear it. You arrived early to rehearsal and you were surprised to see the empty room. You stood in the middle of the room for a moment and looked at yourself in the mirror, but you couldn't bear to look at yourself for too long without turning to your thoughts.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. A light melody began to play in your head and as if your body was moving on its own, you began to follow the melody. For a moment, all your worries, thoughts and feelings disappeared.

You let yourself go and danced around the room without any ties. It was just you and the music in your head. You danced for yourself and poured everything you felt into your dance. You felt every fiber move inside you. You felt your arms and legs synchronize to take you away from there and for the first time in a long time, you could feel like you were you again.

When you opened your eyes again, a part of you felt lighter, as if dancing had brought back a part of you that you had abandoned long ago. You smiled, trying to hold back your tears.

“Wow, you know how to dance.” You turned around suddenly only to find Minho leaning against the door frame.

“Fuck you.”

“I mean it.” He walked into the room, but you stayed where you were without taking your eyes off him. “I see you feel better.” He looked you up and down, and a small shiver ran through your body when he stared at you for too long.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Take this,” he said, handing you a bag, but you didn’t move and raised an eyebrow questioning his action. “It’s for your foot.”

“I don’t want it.” You crossed your arms and looked up. “Do you expect that with this, I’ll forgive you and forget everything you said?”

“I wasn’t the only one who spoke” you felt your cheeks burn a little as you remembered your own words “just take it and that’s it”

“No”

“Why does it bother you so much?” Minho sighed a little tiredly and you noticed the anger in his voice “Is it just because you’re not used to someone caring about you or is it because it’s me?”

Your words drowned in the depths of your chest and you wondered if you had heard correctly. Was he worried? About you? His words floated in your mind for a moment and stirred something inside you. You gritted your teeth and looked away, you didn’t know the answer and you didn’t want to find out right then.

“Just take it” he said annoyed taking your hand and making you hold the bag “and accept it” you were in shock, but you didn’t say anything, Minho walked away from you and left the room before you could say anything.

Once alone again, curiosity made you open the bag only to see a couple of medications and some candy, but among them you saw a chocolate bar and you were left wondering how he knew it was your favorite.

“Idiot” you whispered trying not to smile as you took a small bite.

The days got better, you felt that the rehearsals were more bearable, but you knew that something felt different, something inside you still worried you and made you wonder about the strange change in Minho's behavior. You didn't understand why from one day to the next he started to behave more tolerable with you, he no longer insulted you and he didn't argue with you.

“We're getting closer to the big day, you need to improve a little” the teacher reminded them when they got to the room “you need to give your all, I need you to really give yourselves to the dance, I need you to feel it and transmit it with your movements and your expressions” they both nodded “very well, let's work”

The music started to play throughout the room and you executed your movements automatically. Your arms rose in the air and you tried to endure the little pain that it left you when you stood on your toes.

"They should feel it" you heard the teacher say "transmit it" Minho held you by the waist and lifted your body into the air for a few seconds before meeting you face to face.

His gaze was the same as always, cold with a hint of mysterious darkness, but your body shuddered for a few seconds. He held your arm and guided you with the music through his movements, you focused on continuing to dance and continued spinning and jumping.

The music continued for a while longer, they repeated the choreography a couple more times and you were grateful when someone spoke to the teacher. You went to sit in a corner to catch your breath and check your foot. You sighed in relief when you saw it was okay.

In the distance you saw how Minho lay down on the floor with his limbs stretched out and breathing heavily. You looked at him curiously but quickly undressed your gaze when you noticed that his shirt had risen a little on his abdomen and left a little skin exposed.

You felt your face turn red and you cursed yourself for it, it was just a bit of skin, nothing you hadn't seen before, but somehow it felt different as if it was something forbidden that you weren't supposed to see and yet you looked up again.

His eyes were closed and his breathing had calmed down, it seemed as if he was sleeping, his face was serene and there was no trace of that calculating look, only tranquility.

You looked down a little in fear, but when you saw his toned body something inside you stirred. He had strong arms and his abs were worked.

"I can hear your thoughts up here" you quickly looked away and focused your gaze on the floor

"I don't know what you're talking about"

"Please" Minho turned to his side with one hand holding his head "I can feel your gaze on me the whole time"

"I wasn't looking at you" you said nervously trying to defend yourself. Minho smiled and stood up walking towards you

"Liar" you stood in your place feeling your nerves tickling all over your body "if you want to look at me just say it" you were going to say something to him when you saw how he lifted his shirt a little.

"Nobody wants to see you naked"

"Naked? I didn't say that" Minho made his smile bigger and you pressed yourself against the wall when he was closer "do you want to see me naked?"

"Of course not" you claimed almost screaming, feeling your face burn

You heard a laugh and looked up only to see Minho split in half laughing and… You were surprised. You had never seen him laugh like that, he seemed like another person, there was no trace of the person you hated and for a moment you stared at him.

"idiot" you said standing up, you gave him a little push when you passed by him, but he took your hand. When you turned around he wasn't laughing anymore, he was staring at you and you felt a chill

"I have something for you" he reached into one of your pants pockets and pulled out a small chocolate wrapper. You stared at him and didn't know if you should take it, but last time he made you do it so you did it fearfully with a question on the tip of your tongue.

"Why?" Minho seemed to understand and just shrugged his shoulders "why are you doing all this?" You raised your hands tired of trying to figure out his behavior "do you expect me to forgive you?"

"No"

"Then why?" You didn't want to break down in front of him again and you held back your emotions before they got out of control, but a small part of you remembered his words and you couldn't help but say them "is it because of pity?"

"No" He said raising his voice, he lowered his head and sighed heavily "it's just that…" Your eyes met for a moment, but this time it was different, you could see a little beyond the darkness and you perceived something different "I know what it feels like to be completely alone"

You were confused, you didn't know what to say, there was no answer to his words, now you only felt a great emptiness in your chest. Lee Minho, the person you always hated and envied was in front of you showing you a part of him that you didn't know.

"I…"

"Don't say anything" he interrupted you "just… take care of yourself" and so, confused and scared he left you in the middle of the dance hall with an unknown feeling in your chest.

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The days passed faster than you expected, with all the change in Minho's attitude and the fact that he didn't treat you badly anymore, the day of the competition came too soon. They hadn't stopped practicing and even though you tried to hide it, the nerves were starting to show, but you tried to hide it.

"You've worked very hard" said the teacher when she gave you a little break "but tomorrow you must give your all, mind, soul and body" you rolled your eyes, she had repeated the same thing for the last three days and you were sure of what she would say next, without paying attention to the teacher you looked away at Minho who also looked a little tired of the same thing, but when your eyes met he smiled and moved his mouth saying exactly the same thing as the teacher "you must be one" You almost spat out the water and coughed to catch your breath, but the teacher noticed it anyway. You looked at the ground trying to contain the smile on your face, even though you knew that was a stupid thing to do “okay, let’s continue”

You got into your usual position, you were ready and when the music started playing you did what you did best. Minho’s warm hand on your waist was already familiar but you still held your breath.

“You’re nervous” he said before you moved to the side to follow his steps

“Nervous? Me?” Minho took your hand and you stood on one foot on your toes as he spun you around “in the morning?”

“no” You rolled your eyes as he let go and continued dancing until you were facing him.

“I'm not nervous” Minho took you by the waist and you let your weight fall back while you stretched your arms and he held your weight with his arms, when you stood up again you found his face very close to yours

“I know you” his words distracted you for a moment and you heard the teacher's voice in the distance, you continued with the dance and when you were in front of him again you couldn't help but stay silent

“You don't know anything about me” you answered when you passed in front of him. When you placed your hands on his shoulders Minho took you by the waist and lifted you up.

“Of course I do” Minho replied as he set you down and spun you around “I know you don’t have any friends” you remained serious despite his words, but the continued “I know you live alone and apart from others out of fear” your body tensed up, but you continued moving around the room anyway

You moved away from him to do your jump and you were happy that it went perfectly, you stood still, waiting for Minho to finish the choreography and when his hands hooked around your waist you couldn’t help but tense up.

This moment was always weird, it felt like something intimate because after that he had to lean down and pretend to kiss you, even though they had never done it, he always hid your body with his and you just stayed held by his arms looking at his face.

“I know that despite everything you still pursue your dreams” he said at the end and you held your breath as you watched him get closer and closer

“Perfect” said the teacher taking you both out of the bubble in which you had been trapped for a moment “that is exactly what I want you to do tomorrow”

Minho sat up with you and you finally moved away from him. The teacher was saying something, but you were only aware of your burning body where Minho’s hands had touched you. You hated that he had that effect on you lately, it was not something normal, but you did not want to admit it.

“Well, then get some rest,” the teacher said, “you need all your energy for tomorrow.”

You hurried to grab your things and leave the room before Minho, you couldn’t keep looking at him without questioning things you didn’t want to admit and all of that was so absurd when you remembered how you had treated each other at the beginning, whatever you were starting to feel had to be a product of the pressure of the competition, you just had to wait until the next day for this to disappear.

You were about to leave the place when you stopped at the entrance when you noticed it was raining, you rolled your eyes and cursed silently as you mentally prepared yourself for the race you would make to your house, but when you were about to run someone took your hand. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was, but you did anyway.

“What's wrong?”

“You're going to get wet,” Minho said seriously, still holding your hand.

“It's just a little water,” you said, trying to escape the feeling that formed in your stomach.

“You could get sick.”

“What do you want?” you asked, a little irritated and upset. “I need to get home.”

“I can take you home,” you bit your lips as you thought about his proposal. You saw the rain falling and thought about it again. Your house was far away, so you just sighed.

“Okay,” Minho seemed to smile, and before he could say anything else, he took your hand and ran to where his car was. He opened the door for you, and you got in without thinking twice. Minho got in right away, and you noticed some drops falling down his hair and some others sliding down his face.

There was something mesmerizing about watching him, and you bit your lips as he ran his fingers through his hair. You looked away, realizing that some drops had stuck to you, too. Minho's gaze rested on you for a second and you noticed how his eyes seemed to follow the trail of some drop that spilled from your forehead and passed over your lips where it was lost on your neck and under your neckline.

You shifted in your seat and when his eyes returned to yours you felt a shiver run down your spine, you couldn't understand it but you knew that he was hiding something beyond his gaze, something that you couldn't understand but that made you shudder and want to know what was beyond.

You didn't realize your labored breathing until Minho approached you putting his arm over your head and you held your breath when you felt his breath near your lips, his eyes were on yours and you could swear that time stopped, but when you saw his hand return with the seat belt something in you felt disappointed and you cursed for thinking that he would try something else, but you hated yourself a little more for thinking about something like that and not disliking the idea.

“Safety first” he said jokingly, but you just nodded, staring straight ahead as he started the car.

The ride was silent and you felt the weight of tension with every second that passed without talking, no matter how much you looked outside and tried to focus on something else your eyes always strayed to his hands holding the wheel. You needed to get out of there before your mind drifted to places you didn't want.

The rain seemed to get worse with every minute and by the time you got to your house it seemed dangerous so you invited him in thinking he would leave but now you were in the living room, silent and with nothing to talk about. You hoped everything would calm down but your insides didn't seem to want to. You were hyper aware of Minho's presence and you could even swear you could hear his heartbeat, or maybe it was yours, you didn't know anymore but you wanted all this to end even if it meant getting away from Minho again.

You got up to make tea and forget your thoughts. There were so many things you wanted to say, but you didn't know how to do it, you didn't know if the words would destroy the strange relationship you had built, a kind of friendship where you supported each other for a common good, although you knew that inside there was something more.

“Do you think this will stop?” his words brought you out of your thoughts and you looked up

“It has to stop” you said almost begging for it to stop, but the drops still fell heavily down the windows and didn't seem to want to go away for a long time

Silence reigned again in the small space and you took your hands determined to say something, but then Minho spoke again.

“I’ve been thinking about something” you turned to look at him and raised an eyebrow

“Wow… I didn’t know you could do that” you heard a laugh and you smiled at the sight

“I do it often, in case you were wondering”

“So… what are you thinking about?” you asked curious and nervous at the same time

“Me, you, us” you stopped what you were doing, trying to analyze if you were starting to go deaf

“Us?” you turned around again and noticed that Minho had stood up and was slowly approaching where you were

“I know I’ve been an idiot before” with each word he got closer and you tried to back away until you found yourself at the kitchen counter “maybe I still am, but now I know I’ve done things wrong” Minho was left only a few steps away from you “I’m sorry”

“What?”

“Don’t make me say it twice,” he said jokingly, but when he saw that you weren’t smiling, he repeated it without hesitation. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” you asked nervously, still stunned, not understanding his words.

“For everything, I’ve treated you badly and said things that weren’t right.” You gritted your teeth as you remembered the words that had been engraved in your mind. “The truth is, I… was jealous of you.”

“Jealousy?” Minho sighed heavily and lowered his head in shame. “What are you talking about?”

“I always saw you rehearse over and over again, I saw you give yourself completely to music without any effort, I… I can't do that and everyone kept reminding me of it, that's why every time I saw you I…” he lowered his head to catch his breath and hide the shame that all this caused him, but he got a little closer to where you were “I… wanted what you had” he raised his head again and you froze when you saw his eyes lit up by what looked like tears “I felt miserable and useless seeing all the effort you made and I could only get here with money, I know I'm not good at this and I still try, that's why I was jealous, that's why I turned everything into hate” you were frozen by his confession, the words had gotten stuck in your chest, there was nothing you could say and you just stayed trying to process everything

“I thought you… hated me” Minho let out a tired laugh

“I hated you, I hated your talent, but... hating you doesn’t serve me anymore… I can’t hate you anymore” he said ignoring you “but… all this…” he opened his mouth but it seemed like the words were stuck in his chest and he was struggling to get them out “this… absurd and useless feeling for you is killing me”

“What… are you talking about?” your voice shook with each word, your heart was agitated, you knew there was something floating in the air that you tried to ignore.

Minho sighed and looked at the ceiling, he reached his hand to your face, but stopped before doing so, as if doing so would hurt him.

“I… you…” he closed his eyes and lowered his hand, clenching his fingers into a fist “I can’t spend another second with you without my entire body wanting you, every time I see you I lose my breath, I can’t stop thinking about you, your eyes, your smile” his fingers lengthened a little and very gently caressed your cheek “everything about you drives me crazy and I can’t spend another second with this inside me”

All you could hear were the raindrops hitting the windows, the air didn't seem to be enough anymore and you could feel a pressure on your chest. You couldn't stop thinking about his words, a part of you wanted to scream at him, tell him he was lying, that it was a stupid joke, you wanted him to leave and never see him again, but there was something else, something inside you that was taking over you and you couldn't contain it.

“Minho” it was the first time you called him by his name, and he seemed to react to your voice like a scared dog “I… I don’t know what to say, this is all so confusing” you looked up at where he was “I thought you hated me, I… I hated you too, I hated the way you walked down the halls and the way you stood out everywhere… your stupid temper and the damn way you dance… you, you caught everyone with your dance and I can’t do that… but now that doesn’t matter… because I can’t hate you either, not anymore”

Everything went silent, the raindrops were a distant noise, but you could still hear your heartbeat in your chest. Minho walked to where you were and this time he didn’t stop, he took your face and looked into your eyes just like he always had, without fear and with curiosity, but now there was something else, something you had no doubts about, he looked at you with love.

“Give me one reason not to kiss you right now,” you held your breath and let go of the fear in your chest with every word he said. “Tell me to leave and that you don’t want to see me again. Ask me for anything and I will do it. Because you have my heart hanging in your hands now. It’s all yours and you can do whatever you want with it. Destroy it, mold it, design it, love it… my heart belongs to you now… and so do I.”

“Minho… please kiss me.”

It wasn’t a soft, slow kiss. It was a desperate, anxious one that reflected all of your confused and jumbled emotions inside. It was a hot kiss, full of everything you both had dragged along until now. You could feel your heart beating hard, but you ignored it and just focused on his kisses, on the way his hands seemed to tremble on your waist and the way his lips ran over every part of your mouth.

You lost yourself completely in him, you let yourself go and forgot about everything you ever questioned, there were no doubts anymore, there were no ties, there were no secrets, they were just two people who opened their hearts and now they were feeling it.

Minho's mouth was desperate, his hands slowly ran up your body, but you just wanted him to hurry up, to calm that fire inside you that had started to burn. You took his hands and placed them on your breasts without fear, you wanted him, you needed him and you didn't mind admitting it.

You moaned his name when his mouth slid down your jaw to your neck and your fingers tangled in his hair. Minho pressed his hands to your chest and you threw your head back moaning at the feeling of his hands on you. His mouth continued down to the neckline of your blouse and before he did anything he looked up with a silent question and you just nodded desperately. He put his hands underneath and got rid of your blouse, throwing it away along with your bra, freeing your breasts where his mouth settled, making you shudder.

Your hands moved down his body, touching every part of him, and you heard him let out a gasp when you touched him above his crotch. You slipped your hands under his shirt and took it off to admire his bare chest.

You stood still for a second, appreciating each other's half-naked bodies. Minho licked his lips before attacking your mouth again. His hands squeezed your ass before unbuttoning your pants, leaving a trail of kisses from your abdomen to your thighs.

Your breathing was agitated with the slightest touch of his mouth on your skin, his mouth leaving kisses on your thighs and you held your breath as you saw how his fingers hooked the edge of your panties and left you uncovered.

His hands caressed your thighs and slowly moved closer to your core where you moaned at the feel of his fingers on your wet pussy, his thumb searched for your clit and you saw him smile when you shuddered. He moved his finger slowly in circles and you could feel how you were getting wetter and wetter.

You didn't realize when your legs opened more, but when you felt Minho's mouth on you, you moaned his name holding his hair as he buried his tongue in you.

You turn your head back and let yourself be caught by the burning sensation running through your veins, his tongue on your clit makes your legs tremble, but when you feel his fingers near your entrance a shiver runs through your entire body. You look down for a moment to beg him, but before you can Minho slides a finger inside you and you moan his name.

“Minho… I…” you can’t finish the sentence, he slides another of his fingers in and curls them touching a sensitive part inside while his tongue moves over your clit. The fire inside you burned strong, you couldn’t hold it back any longer and you let it consume you completely.

Your legs were shaking and your breathing was labored when Minho stood up. He held you tightly by the waist and wore that triumphant smile on his face that you had previously hated, but now found attractive.

“Darling… you taste divine”

“Shut up” you claimed embarrassed

“Shut me up” you approached his lips and kissed him hard tasting yourself on his lips.

You pressed your body against his and felt his hardening on your belly, you stifled a moan in his mouth when Minho grabbed your legs and lifted your body.

“I'll take you right here if you don't tell me where the bed is.”

“Upstairs.” Minho didn't wait any longer and took you to your room where he left you on the bed while still kissing you as he took off his pants and boxers, leaving his cock free.

He placed himself on top of you and you stirred as you felt the tip of his cock caress your clit. Minho took his cock and placed it at your entrance, still looking at you, again with a question in his eyes.

“Min… I need you.”

Minho moved his hips slowly and you arched your back as you felt his cock stretch you and hit rock bottom. He placed his hands on either side of your head and kissed you, staying in that position for a moment, feeling your walls enveloping him.

From one moment to the next his hips moved back leaving only the tip of his cock inside and then he moved again making you moan over and over again with each thrust.

Your mouth kept saying his name, all you could feel was his body on yours and his kisses on your neck while you felt his breath on you. You had your legs around his waist and your hands around his back marking his skin with your nails with each push of his hips.

Your body was burning and you knew you wouldn’t last much longer if he continued like this, but suddenly Minho sat up and before you could say anything he took your legs and placed them on his shoulders bending you in half like a doll, but this new position made him go deeper and you moaned at the feeling.

“You should see yourself with my eyes darling… you’re magnificent”

“Minho… shut up and fuck me” you heard him let out a laugh before pushing hard and biting the inside of one of your thighs.

The new position made you feel everything more intensely and you could feel a knot in your belly that you couldn't hold back any longer, your legs trembled and Minho noticed.

“What's wrong darling?” He asked mockingly as he saw how you held the sheets and how your back was arching, you wanted to talk but the only thing that came out of you were moans of pleasure announcing your orgasm “a little more, I know you're a good girl”

His words only made you squeeze his cock tighter and that made him lose himself in his own ecstasy so he continued praising you.

“Are you going to cum around my cock?” you nodded desperately and Minho only leaned in closer to kiss you “do it… cum for me”

You obeyed him and let yourself be carried away by the pleasure that ran through your body at the same time that you felt Minho's release inside you and how it ran down your legs when he released you from his grip.

You could feel your unbridled heart beating at the same time as Minho's who was on top of you. At that moment they were one and the same and something inside you finally felt calm.

You closed your eyes and stayed that way for so long that you didn't realize you fell asleep until you opened your eyes again. Minho was next to you and his arms were around your body covered by some sheets.

"Sleep darling" you heard him say

"I don't think I can" you said snuggling into his chest hugging him back

"We have a competition to win, you better rest" he gave you a kiss on the forehead and that was enough to go back to sleep, taking away the feeling of emptiness you had before.

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Your nerves could get the better of you at any moment, you kept pacing back and forth and there was nothing that could calm you down, not even the teacher's encouraging words, not Minho's compliments, not even the voice in your head. You had never been so nervous and you knew the reason.

You had decided to invite your parents at the last minute thinking they wouldn't go, but when they said they would give you a chance everything inside you went off the rails. This could be a new beginning for your relationship if everything went well or maybe things could end up the same, anyway, it was too late to regret it.

Minho was serious, he was worried about your condition and he was afraid you would have an anxiety attack, so he was behind you all the time, but that only made you more nervous.

“Stop that” you said turning around and facing him

“I’m not doing anything”

“You’re following me” you said raising your voice, making the people around you look in your direction for a moment “I’m sorry”

“It’s okay, you’re nervous”

“Of course I’m nervous” you bit your nails to keep from crying, but Minho took your hands and you looked up into his eyes.

“Just breathe a little” you took a breath and your chest seemed to calm down a little “that’s it… everything will be okay okay?” you nodded not very sure of his words “we’ll go in there and the world will go to shit, it’ll just be you and me… okay?”

“Yes” You approached to kiss him, but you saw the teacher in the distance and you moved away from Minho as far as you could without knowing why

“It's your turn” the nerves returned to your body, but you tried to smile when the teacher pushed them close to the curtain, where the other people waited and watched the couple's presentation on stage “you are the best, you know it” said the teacher when the lights went out and left the stage free “prove it”

You closed your eyes for a moment trying to leave everything behind, as you always did when you danced, until you felt a hand take yours to move forward. You opened your eyes to look at Minho, his gaze was no longer cold or calculating as before, now it was warm and loving, you were no longer alone.

You walked forward together to the stage and got into position, you felt the thousands of eyes on you, but there were only a few that mattered to you and were in front of you.

“Let’s do this” you heard him say before the music started and everything around you stopped mattering.

You gave yourself completely to the music, all your movements synchronized with Minho’s and for the first time you understood the teacher’s words. Together you danced and gave your body, mind and soul to the stage, you let yourself be carried away by the melody and you felt your body flow with ease, with every jump you made, every movement, every turn, everything was perfect.

You could only hear your heartbeat, the music had long since gone, and the looks of the people no longer mattered, you could only focus on bright eyes full of love and desire.

Minho took you by the waist and lifted you up before leaning over you to finish the choreography, but this time you didn’t stop him from coming closer, you didn’t move away and you took his face and kissed him at the same time that the lights went out and the applause resonated throughout the theater.

“I love you” you heard him say and that was all you heard.

You knew someone would see them if they just opened the door, but you didn't care. His mouth was fiercely devouring yours as you held onto the small table in the place where they had decided to hide. His kisses were leaving you breathless, but you continued to taste his lips.

You felt the fire run through your veins and you let out a small moan when his hands ran down your bare legs until they squeezed your thighs.

"Min…" you moaned in his ear as his mouth slid down your jaw to your neck.

"Give me a reason not to rip your clothes off right now" he said running his hands down your wet center and you shuddered at the feel. You looked into his eyes for a moment

"Do it"

Minho ripped off your clothes and touched you with his fingers, the adrenaline from the dance was still running through your body and it excited you to think that someone could come in and see them, but the excitement after finishing their performance was so much that they ran to the first dressing room they found to get naked.

You moaned when his fingers touched your center and found your clit, his mouth fiercely attacked your neck and you felt his teeth on your skin, but you didn't need that, you wanted to feel him inside you.

Desperate, you pushed him away a little and Minho looked at you surprised when you pushed him to the small sofa that was there while you moved forward and took off the rest of your clothes, at the same time he did the same.

You climbed onto his lap and took him by the shoulders moving your hips feeling his cock on your wet pussy. Minho threw his head back and grabbed your thighs.

“Shit, Darling…” you didn’t let him finish his sentence as you grabbed his cock and sank down on it making him moan “someone… might see us”

“Then you better do this quickly” you said agitatedly moving your hips up and down marking the rhythm.

Minho grabbed your thighs and squeezed your skin tightly as he felt you bounce on him over and over again, he couldn't stop himself from kissing your breasts and biting your nipples to hear your own moans.

You were so immersed in each other that you had forgotten about everything that was happening outside the doors until after a while you stopped moving out of exhaustion, but Minho grabbed your hips and moved his up to continue until you felt your insides heat up from Minho's release.

You collapsed on his chest and smiled as you heard his heartbeat as he caressed your hair. Everything was calm and quiet until you heard your names over the speakers in the place.

“Did we win?” you asked bewildered hearing the applause of the people “we should go”

“Maybe” he said when you looked up and tried to move, but he held you back “but everything I care about is here”

“You're a fucking romantic”

“And you love it”

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EPILOGUE

"Don't you dare open your eyes" you heard Minho say as he led you through who knows where, nerves running through your body and you didn't know what he had in store but you were sure it wouldn't top your anniversary gift.

"I'm scared" you confessed with a nervous laugh

"Do you trust me?"

"No" Minho let go of your hands and you searched for him until his hands took your waist and made you move forward a little more between laughs

"You lie"

"Maybe" you felt a warm kiss on your temple and his hands leaving your body

"Wait here" he said before you heard his steps walk away

"No… Minho" you stood still for a moment until the nerves took over you and made you restless "Minho, this is not funny" with labored breathing you took off the blindfold from your eyes but you couldn't see anything, it was dark "Minho… I swear I'm going to…"

Suddenly the lights turned on and you held your breath when your vision adjusted to the place. Your eyes filled with tears when you saw Minho coming towards you again.

"Happy wedding anniversary"

"But… what is this?" you asked as he handed you some keys

"It's what you asked for" he said hugging you "your own dance studio, here you can dance, show others your incredible talent, it's all yours"

You couldn't hold back your tears any longer and hugged him back burying your face in his neck.

"Don't cry darling, it will ruin your makeup" you laughed a little before wiping your tears and hitting him in the chest

"I hate you"

"I love you too" he said before kissing you in the same place where you met.

·͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

IF YOU LIKE IT PLEASE REBLOG

-> @cultofdionysusnet

Tag list: @zuuhaaa @T.leeknowsaurus @lilol @kissesmellow21 @melanctton @queenmea604

Divider: @fairytopea

#samiiy<3 #lee know stray kids #skz minho #lee know #lose my breath #minho x y/n #stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic #skz smut #minho smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #minho hard hours #kpop imagines #cultofdionysusnet #lee minho stray kids #lee minho #lee minho series

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kakushino · 1 year ago

Text

Being a papa is not that bad

Platonic relationship - Giyuu and his daughter

The girl wraps him around her little fingers and never lets go.

Tags: hurt/(comfort), fluff, pregnancy mention, Giyuu being a girl-dad, 3rd person POV (F!Reader as background character), Giyuu being whipped (OOC because he's with his kid c'mon) Word count: 1,4k

Masterlist

AN: So the age of consent in Japan was 13 til recently (it's 16 now), which is super weird, but I had to check before I wrote this to fit the KNY timeline. This is set in Taisho era so everything is legal, tyvm. Shamisen is a japanese string instrument.

Now have a hurty fluff.

Written for Girl dads collab of @suyacho

Having a child before Muzan was dealt with was not in his cards, at least that's what he had thought… until a tryst with one of the kakushi happened and he was to become a father. It was humiliating - his lack of control - and the guilt he felt towards the kakushi for ruining her for any other future was great, weighing him down more than the mantle of a Pillar.

He hadn’t wanted to marry so young either, but shame would have destroyed him, his shame would have destroyed her - he thought - so he married her on a white January day, her belly round and full with his child- his child!

It was born a week after his eighteenth birthday. He wasn’t there for it. He wasn’t anywhere in the prefecture the Butterfly mansion was in either; he was on the other end of Japan taking care of a demon, while another future ghost to haunt him was being born.

Giyuu arrived back at the Water estate at the end of March, his wife sleeping beside the baby on a futon. He had only wanted to check if his wife hadn’t burned the house in his absence but the sight struck a cord in him, like a shamisen being plucked by Fate's fingers, playing him to its pleasure and none his own.

The baby was… cute; hair midnight black, tiny hand clinging to its mother’s hand, a picture of perfect innocence that reminded him of the reason why he fought so hard, why he hunted demons for living.

This. All of this.

His eyes focused on his wife; it was still strange to refer to anyone as his. Her eyes had deep bruises under them, indicating a severe lack of sleep, her hair disheveled, and sleeping yukata askew. One of her breasts had a wet spot on it - she must be dripping milk, he realized.

Giyuu had likely not seen her in a less put-together state and yet, she was pretty. His lips pressed together as he mulled over that thought, silently slipping from the room to bathe and sleep as well.

They would talk in the morning, he decided.

Giyuu left three days later.

He didn’t get to speak to his wife, because the moment he stepped in to hold his baby for the first time, she gave a sigh of relief and fell asleep right away - sitting up, leaning on one of the columns holding up the roof. How could he wake her, when she was so obviously clinging to the last fraying strands of her sanity?

He took a seat beside her and stared at his child - his child.

Kocho had left him a message, somehow knowing Giyuu would have no social graces nor time to speak to his wife. It read:

Congratulations, Tomioka-san. Your baby girl was born healthy, and the name picked for her is Shizuku. Treat her well. - Kocho Shinobu

Tomioka Shizuku.

He would treasure her above himself.

Though he promised himself that, Giyuu remained mostly absent from Shizuku’s early life, working overtime to keep his prefecture as demon-free as he could; he even set up a nightly patrol near his residence with Ubuyashiki to keep his flesh and blood safe.

The times he came home, he spent every waking moment with his child - playing with her, teaching her to call him papa, to say her own name. He drew pictures with her, helped her take her first steps, took her to town on 'adventures'. He was dutiful; no matter the task, if it involved his Shizuku, his child, he would do it.

As she grew up, now nearly three years old, he often took her to the garden, training but making in fun for her - so far, Shizuku liked it the most when he did pushups and she ‘braided’ his hair while sitting on his back. She also loved to watch him practice swordsmanship, absolutely captivated by his movements with the bokken, little mouth hanging open as she sat in the shade of a tree. After his katas, which often earned him an applause for his 'performance', he had a ‘tea party’ under the same tree with her, telling her stories - embellished, of course - about his demon slaying, how he learned total concentration breathing, and other such tales from his life - all wrapped in a fairy tale way.

Giyuu thought Shizuku took them as just stories.

Until…

He was getting ready to leave - Ubuyashiki had called a Hashira meeting - when he reached for his haori only to find it gone. Frantic, his thoughts went to his wife - did she put it in the laundry? Only, checking the 'dirty' basket, it wasn’t there; checking the line of clothing hanging outside, it wasn’t there.

Where is it?!

A panicked search inside of his estate yielded nothing. He couldn’t even ask his wife because she was in the town - he was set to leave when she returned so there could always be someone in the house for Shizu-

Shizuku!

Where was she? Nowhere inside. The garden?

Giyuu swiftly made his way to the place he spent most of the time with his daughter.

Sure enough, Shizuku was there, his haori dwarfing her frame as she tried to replicate his meditation exercises. Relief flooded his chest, a smile overtaking his face as he stepped closer to her.

“I believe you have something of mine, Shizu-chan,” he said, crouching in front of her, not making any move to take his clothing back.

The little girl quickly reached behind her for the bokken - which she also stole, he noted - and leaped at him with a mighty battle cry. “I’m the great Wa’er Pillar, demon! It’s you who stole som’thing from me!”

Acting startled, Giyuu put his everything into making the landing soft for her as he ‘tumbled’ backwards, ‘crying’ out dramatically, “Oh nooo- this foe is too strong for one as puny as I! This must be my end!” His uniform was probably dusty now, but he could shake it out later.

“Ahahaha! Fear me - and die!” Shizuku had let go of the bokken during their ‘fight’ so she used her tiny fists to beat his chest, laughing and squealing in joy at having bested the ‘demon’.

Seeing her smile made his departure all the more bittersweet.

Any day he could die, but this joy would guide him in the moments he breathed.

Giyuu sat up, laying her onto his thighs and tickling her neck, a soft smile still playing on his lips at her adorable face, so much like his own. Blue eyes the same share, black hair in two small braids he had done for her that morning - his daughter.

“Now that the demon is slayed, the mighty Water Pillar needs to go on to do his job, my little clam. So I will be confiscating the haori you’re wearing,” he told her, tugging the garment off her body easily as it was so big on her, leaving her pouting.

“Do you really need to go?” Her pout was not making it any easier.

Nevertheless, he remained patient and gentle. “I’ll be back soon, so don't worry, Shizu-chan.” Giyuu picked her up with one arm, throwing the haori over his shoulder with his other hand, and carried her to the engawa. Shizuku sat dutifully and let him dust her off. “Besides, you have your mother here.”

He took off his jacket and shook out the dirt, nearly missing her whisper. “But mama is not papa.”

Giyuu put everything together on himself - her soft sniffles nearly clogging his throat with heartbreak - and crouched in front of her, taking her hands in his. “Shizu-chan, do you know what papa is?”

She nodded, “A pillar.” Tears glistened on her face.

“Yes, but papa is also brave.” What a big fat lie. “And do you know what Shizu-chan is?”

“Nu-uh.”

He squeezed her hands briefly. “You’re just like papa - a brave warrior. I need you to be brave for me, Shizu-chan. I need you to protect our home while I’m gone. Can you do that for me?”

She wiped her face with one of her sleeves and nodded. “I’ll be like papa and protec’ mama.”

“That’s my girl. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Having a child before Muzan was dealt with was not in his cards, he used to think, but perhaps, being a father was not all that bad.

dividers by the amazing @benkeibear

network: @enchantedforest-network

Part 2 will be focused on Giyuu's relationship with his wife (the mother) when? idk

#starting off with a bang #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #tomioka giyuu #giyuu x reader #giyuu #kny giyuu #giyuu fluff #kny fluff #demon slayer fluff #tomioka giyuu x reader #girl dad giyuu #desi the blue eyed kakushi #kakushino

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ilove-sexydilfsnmilfs · 5 months ago

Text

-Star Crossed- chapter 1

Pairing- Oc!reader(afab) x Logan Howlett

Words- 1.9k (not proofread plz excuse any errors)

Summary- it’s been nearly 2 years since Cora(reader) and Logan both lost eachother in their own universe, both broken, angry and hated amongst their people, They would do anything to see one another again, little did they know that day would come sooner than expected, and shatter their hearts into pieces and drive their long hidden desires to the surface ….will they be able to forgive themselves for their past and finally be together? Or will the universe just tear them apart once again?

Warnings- mentions of death, blood, 18+ (smut) in some later scenes/chapters… tension!!!! ./trauma/ no use of y/n I will be using a name but I won’t be describing any appearances! / Logan is aged down to be atleast in his early /mid 30s in this story / will add more warnings when needed.

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You’ve been rotting in your bed for months now, you can’t bring yourself to do much…not anymore.. you feel so lost, so hopeless..all because he’s gone, and you blame yourself for everything that had happened , you blame yourself for losing Logan.

You stare up at the white ceiling, Logans dog tags rest around your neck, his old grey zip up wrapped in your arms, his scent slowly fading with each day that passes. You feel nothing but sadness, you’ve cried so much you genuinely don’t think you can bare to cry anymore you just want out. Out of this fucking world, out of your misery. But what can you do? Just leave? No…what would leaving do? You’d still carry the pain you’ve felt since the day Logan Howlett died in your arms. Sometimes you swear you can still feel the warmth from his blood pooling under you, his heavy body laying stiff in your arms…the feeling of absolute dread when he stopped responding to your pleas to stay with you a little longer, when his hand fell from your face, body going limp…thinking about it makes you want to end your own life sometimes but you know that’s not what he would have wanted for you…he would want you to live on, but how could you live when the only man you’d ever loved was gone …forever?

You rolled over on your side, your face sinking into your pillow while you held his jacket close to your body, your other hand clenching his bloodstained necklace it’s all you had left of him since you left the x mansion, you couldn’t be there anymore, not with all the memories and not with knowing none of your friends were there anymore either.. they were all gone, dead… you were the last one left, and you couldn't bear to be reminded of all the happy memories...not when survivors guilt was riddled in your body. when everyone had died, you felt like you at least had a reason to live giving you still had logan by your side, but then he got sick, adamantium poisoning....you don't know how it happened, but the adamantium inside of him started to break down, entering his blood stream, it weakened him, slowed down his healing factor...you hated seeing him in pain, it wasn't like him to show it so much, it broke your heart almost every day and that's when you decided to find a way to help him before it got too bad...but little did you know... that would be the very cause of his death.

You blame yourself every single fucking day for his death, sometimes you wonder if you even deserve to wear those dog tags he ripped from his neck and placed in your blood-soaked hands...."I'm so sorry Logan..." you whisper into the jacket, muffled cries echoed through the quiet dark room, cries that soon turned into loud gut wrenching sobs.. you stayed like that for hours, crying yourself to sleep, the way you did almost every night.

you were jolted awake the next morning by the sound of hard loud knocks on your apartment door. You look around frantically, knowing who it was already...it was them.. humans. Humans who hated you more than anything, more than any other mutant...why? because they blame you for the deaths of the other x-men, and they most definitely blame you for the death of Wolverine. "fuck...that fast??" you mutter stuffing your things into a bookbag that lay on the floor next to your bed, they had defintely found you faster than last time....fuck.

you tried to sneak out the window in your bedroom when the door was kicked open by a few bigger men, they ran inside trashing the place, calling out your name in a way that made your skin crawl "COME OUT YOU BITCH" one yelled like a raging brute "come out come out wherever you are Cora, we just wanna make you feel the pain we felt when you killed the x-men" another cooed, his voice was one you'd hear when taunting someone, it was fucking creepy.

"Fuck me!" you spit in a whisper, they seemed even more upset than before...to this day you don't understand why the humans decided to turn against you, I guess they just needed someone to blame for the deaths...and you were right there and unscathed. As you were trying to make your way out the small window, the door to your bedroom flung open and 3 men entered, a mob of people behind them, they grabbed you almost immediately, grabbing your hands and putting them behind your back, and covering your eyes knowing full well of all your abilities. "We got you; you bitch, you're not going anywhere" . Now this whole ordeal would be a lot easier if you could just use your powers against them, but you took an oath when Logan died to never use your powers to harm a soul ever again...and yea these people were horrible trying to kill you but they genuinely think it's your fault your friends are dead...and you know you'd feel the same way if you were in their shoes, so yea...you took an oath to never use your powers to harm these people...but no one ever said anything about using your combat skills...like cmon you were a fucking x-men...these people are really stupid.

you kicked your leg up into the air, uppercutting one person causing them to fall onto the ground with a loud thump. you then brought your head back to headbutt the man holding your arms behind your back and when you felt they were free you ripped the blindfold off and quickly grabbed a lamp that sat on your bedside table, bashing it against another's head. A few people came charging at you at once, but you dodged them with minimal effort, grabbing their heads and bashing them together causing their bodies to go limp and fall to the ground. your right elbow landed directly into someone's stomach making them gasp for air then you brought your knee up to bash it clear into their face, as someone tried to climb onto your back you stumbled from the sudden attack and fell back into a wall causing them to bring a knife right down into your upper abdomen "GET OFF OF ME" you screamed in pain , pushing yourself back into the wall again and again but the person still had a grip on you, that's when another person tried coming at you full speed to tackle you to the ground...you were getting exhausted, you hadn't properly worked out in months and this sudden fight was one you weren't expecting... you were annoyed, trying to fight all these people, finally getting the person on your back off you head someone yell "YOU MURDERER, YOURE KILLING US BUT WHERE WERE YOU WHEN THEY NEEDED YOU"

"ITS ALL YOUR FAULT WOLVERINE IS DEAD" those words, those seven words snapped something inside of you...and well that oath you took...it meant nothing to you now. you brought your hands up into the air, your eyes glowing a bright white, the humans looked at you with nothhing but fear in their eyes. they all stumbled over eachother in the small apartment, but none of them were fast enough, you brought your hands down with a swift motion and everyone in the room flung back, some hit walls, some crashed into furniture and others flew out of windows, an instant death giving you were on the 7th floor. "I DID NOT KILL LOGAN" you screamed, people tried getting up but you didnt let that slide, "I TREID TO SAVE HIM, I LOVED HIM” you swished your hand to cause the ones trying to escape to fling back to the ground. You saw the man that uttered those words that made you snap almost instantly, you had heard them so many times before but for some reason today was the last straw, you tilted your head to the side walking towards him slowly as you brought your hand up you balled it into a fist and watched as he was lifted off the ground, grasping hopelessly at his neck, he couldn't breathe and you only squeezed your fist tighter and tighter as you watched his face turn blue, you glared at him, your eyes narrowing until

'POP'

His head was gone within an instant, blood painted your clothes and face. You were in uncontrollable rage, and couldn't stop, matter of fact you didn't want to stop. you wanted them to feel the pain they have been putting you through when you were already going through enough.

The others screamed, but you quickly shut them up, you twisted your head to the side, and without really thinking about it you opened a portal...it was another one of your abilities you rarely used, but as you were throwing people through it, the screaming stopped....they were all dead and you began to come down from your high while the portal was kept open...you fell to your knees and watched as the golden sparks from the portal started to dim....but before the portal closed completely you saw it...him...a face you hadn't seen in almost 2 years....Logan Howlett.

you felt your heart skip a beat when you both locked eyes, his expression showing just as much shock and heartache as yours, ignoring the bodies you absent mindlessly had thrown before him, in his hand held a bottle of whiskey but it soon hit the cold ground, shattering into pieces. you absent mindlessly grabbed the dog tags that hung around your neck, shooting up to your feet before calling out, "LO-" you were cut off mid-sentence as the portal closed as quickly as it was made and once again you were left alone in silence. You fell to your knees, shaking, your mind raced thinking if what you saw was just your imagination paying tricks on you...logan was dead...there was no way ....you saw him die , you saw-..."no....that's not possible" you mutter to yourself, you stared blankly at the blood riddled floor....that's when your mind began to drift to something Strange said long ago to you...how your ability was one of a kind, how with your own mind you could create portals to other worlds without a type of device...at the time you thought he was just wrong...every time you used your ability you only opened portals to other places in your world...not any others, only he had the ability to do that and even so it was with an object... or...at least you thought. "How...I don't even know wh- I don't even remember what i did .... how?" you were at a loss for words. Did you actually do it... did you open a poral to another earth, one where...Logan was still alive? you felt tears swell in the rim of your eyes, soon falling down your cheeks and onto the floor...you felt sick, crazed and as you looked around...horrible...if what you saw was real, then Logan, The man you've craved to see , the man you once loved and still do love, the man you tried saving and the man that died in your arms...is out there and just in your reach.

(I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS, THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL HAVE MORE INTERACTIONS BETWEEN BOTH CORA (THE READER) AND LOGAN. IT WILL ALSO BE FROM LOGANS POV FOR A LITTLE WHILE let me know if you guys liked it!! 🫶🏼)

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valeriianz · 5 months ago

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Summary: Part 2 of my Hard of Hearing!Dream. Part 1 here! Dream struggles with his new disability and Hob tries to help... along with Dream's new friend, Jessamy.

Square/Prompt: A1 - Why Did You Do It?

Rating: T

Ship(s): Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: None

Additional Tags: human AU, deaf!Dream, angst, happy ending, established relationship

Fill for @dreamlingbingo! (thank you @mallory-x for the read through!)

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When Dream turned 30, he celebrated it in a crowded bar that doubled as an art gallery, close to his apartment. It was his favorite bar, because it was an eclectic gallery first, with a bar open for events. Luckily, there was a local exhibit on the night of Dream’s birthday and he knew it would be the perfect place to celebrate. This way, he could appease his friends who wanted to go out and drink and celebrate, and Dream could stare at art and make a quick escape if need be. It gave a chance for everyone to focus on anything else but him after the initial round of shots.

Hob never took his focus off Dream, though. Even when they would float away to opposite sides of the room, Dream would turn his head and find Hob staring at him, smiling at being caught before turning his attention back to the person he was in conversation with.

At that point, it had been two and a half years since Dream had told Hob about his diagnosis… that he would go permanently deaf. In that time, he did indeed completely lose his hearing in his left ear, but his right was still working pretty well. He had just gotten used to tilting his head slightly to the left so people would understand to talk directly into his good ear.

And Hob was still here. Patient, sweet, loving Hob. Who Dream secretly had a crush on probably since they were first introduced. They’d moved in together last year, and while there were some bumps in the road, complications that arose with moving in with a lover, Dream was surprised to find that he was… happy.

He couldn’t stand it, sometimes, how happy Hob made him. Even his friends had noticed how he smiled more, seemed to have a more positive outlook on life and even on his disability. And it felt natural, like Hob just brought out all the good traits about Dream, like they had been lying dormant and just needed the confidence, the reassurance that he was allowed to feel this way. This happy.

And then, 45 days after Dream’s birthday party, he woke up to Hob shaking him awake, because he was sleeping through his alarm that was apparently blasting through his phone.

But Dream couldn’t hear him. Or the alarm.

He watched with horrifying realization, as Hob’s lips moved, hovering over him, but no words came out.

So much for five years.

Hob had clocked Dream’s blank stare relatively quick, his lips shaping the letters of Dream’s name with a hand on his face, Hob’s brows pinched up and–

Dream cried.

He felt foolish for it. He knew this would happen eventually. He just thought he’d have more time.

Dream speaks with his audiologist the next day, with Hob by his side. Dream had wondered about hearing aids while he still had a modicum of hearing, but had been hesitant. His insurance barely covered them and, while hearing aids may have helped in the past, after several tests, his audiologist confirmed with Dream that now, they wouldn’t even be able to pick up background noise. They wouldn’t help at all.

Dream and Hob had left the office with defeat hanging heavy in the air. Mostly from Dream.

He’s not proud of the person he had been in the week following his permanent hearing loss.

But in time (and therapy), Dream was able to move on. And it really wasn’t so bad, once Dream accepted that this was his life now.

If he closes his eyes, he thinks he can still hear Hob’s voice, especially with his lips pressed against his throat, behind his ear, murmuring sweetness into his skin and sending vibrations into his skull. It’s one of the most calming things Dream has ever experienced; laying in bed with Hob, in the absolute darkness and absolute silence, his remaining senses heightened, it’s both relaxing and unexpectedly erotic. To feel Hob completely surrounding him, grounding Dream, warm and solid and safe, it lights Dream up from the inside and reassures him that everything would be okay.

And in time, Dream comes to appreciate the silence. It’s nice, it’s peaceful. Living in a large city, with constant chatter, cars honking and sirens blazing, used to be a sensory nightmare; that creeping, prickling feeling of overstimulation has vanished and now it’s just… nothingness.

It was scary at first, Dream would be a fool to not admit it; watching the world continue around him, people living their lives, living his own life, all in absolute silence. Not being able to hear the beep of the microwave, indicating when his food was done, or water coming out of the faucet while he washed dishes, or the sizzle of oil in a pan while cooking… little things that Dream had never really perceived whilst hearing them every day. All of that sound just– gone. Like hitting the mute button on a movie.

Dream tries to convince himself that he doesn’t miss the mundane noises, he could barely hear them anyway… but he often feels lost without them. So learning to welcome the quiet was the only way Dream could stay sane.

Though going deaf after decades of being able to hear (albeit poorly) and speak gave Dream the advantage of continuing to communicate in spoken English. He still has an inner voice, can still read lips very well, and so the communication gap with his friends and even strangers isn’t as wide as Dream had feared.

It makes learning sign language difficult. Dream at first did not take the lessons very seriously, especially with Hob being the only person to practice with, in those early days. Hob did help, though; he fumbles and signs broken ASL and Dream fumbles back. But it had been so easy to fall back on the habit of using his voice. But as months turn into a full year, Dream learns by trial and error that he realistically can’t continue traversing through a hearing world without sign language.

The hardest challenge he’d run into, for example… Dream never thought he’d need to prove his deafness.

Of course people get confused when he can speak perfect English, out in public spaces like a cafe or a bookshop, only to then turn around and seemingly ignore everyone around him. It is a strange experience, for Dream, to go around communicating as usual, speaking when he can’t even hear his own voice and reading lips. But he can’t be constantly on the lookout for anybody trying to get his attention. Watching belatedly as someone he had been exchanging dialogue with, roll their eyes and walk away in a huff. Dream truthfully has no idea how he might come off to a complete stranger who can’t realize that he’s deaf. Rude, perhaps. Or uncaring.

It’s enough to convince Dream to get fake hearing aids… he feels ridiculous wearing them, like he’s giving in to a social construct that only exists in his own head. But, annoyingly, while wearing them, the way people communicate and treat him improves exponentially.

Funny, that.

Hob, of course, notices.

“When did you get these?” He touches the little device in Dream’s ear, his fingers turning into a caress. “I thought aids didn’t work for you?”

Hob speaks while he signs, they both do, to help make the hand motions stick. Though Hob often slips up and signs exact English, not proper American Sign Language, which he’s doing now. It doesn’t help in the learning process, but it’s a start, and Dream has no leg to stand on when it comes to corrections.

Dream swipes his index finger across his nose.

“Fake.”

Dream offers no more explanation, turning a page in the book he’s reading. They’re sitting on the couch, Hob properly facing the TV, and Dream lounging sideways, his legs draped over Hob’s lap.

Hob taps the edge of Dream’s book, getting his attention once more.

“You’d rather put a sign on you that announces to the world you're deaf?”

Dream sighs, knocking his head back.

“I know I shouldn’t have to…” Dream starts, his fingers fumbling, a new sign of nervousness he never thought he’d had before. “But it might make things easier.”

“Things?” Hob finger spells, his hands coming down, palms up, in a sign of confusion.

Dream moves a hand to his mouth.

“Communication,” and then to his ear, “understanding.”

Hob’s brows furrow and Dream slowly looks back to his book.

Dream wonders if they’re thinking the same thing. Remembering how difficult it became, living together, after Dream lost his hearing permanently. Hob would forget that Dream couldn’t hear, which was frustrating enough, but the slip-ups were near constant in the beginning.

They’d get into arguments over it, a flame that Dream wasn’t proud to admit he’d always fanned. He hated that his hackles were constantly rising, always on the offensive, like Dream was expecting Hob to take the bait and fight back. That would, of course, spiral into meaningless fights over something stupid like leaving the laundry in the dryer for too long, or forgetting to pick up a particular ingredient they needed for dinner at the grocery store.

Dream was ashamed to admit he didn’t help in the situations, often coping out by just– not looking at Hob so he couldn’t see his lips moving or his awkward signing. He’d turn around and stomp away and Hob would be left to chase after him, hand on his shoulder, forcing him to turn around so they could communicate.

It got easier… Hob was so patient with Dream. He never got so angry he would give up. He always apologized, even when Dream was just being dramatic.

Hob knows by now that Dream would never take the easy route. And sure enough, Dream ditches the fake hearing aids. With them on, people started treating him with gloves on, or stare at him nervously, wondering how to approach. It’s frustrating and annoying– how Dream can’t seem to find a middle ground.

It takes unloading to his new deaf friends about Hob; seeking advice for how to temper these unexpected feelings of disappointment and changes in Dream himself… they never used to fight, before Dream lost his hearing. This is unknown territory for the both of them.

Dream had discovered the community in his city, for deaf people. He’d found a meetup online, after his therapist suggested looking into attending the weekly meetups.

As always, Dream was at first skeptical. His sign language was still spotty at best, and he wasn’t a social guy even when he could hear so. He wasn’t hopeful.

Luckily the deaf community in his city is more than accepting of him, patient when he slips and signs exact English. And when Dream is done airing out his grievances, they encourage patience with Hob. That having a hearing partner is always going to be a struggle, but Hob is clearly coming from a place of compassion and wants to learn. That’s more than can be said for most people.

Dream feels foolish, all the sudden, for his actions against Hob, looking sideways at Jessamy. She was one of the founders of these d/Deaf meetings, and they clicked immediately. Unlike most of their peers in the group, she too had been born hearing and then lost it due to illness. Her and Dream were a lot alike, though she was older and had been wading through this new world for over two decades. She was fluent in ASL, and didn’t even speak while communicating.

“It’s considered rude to speak here, during these meetups,” she had explained during Dream’s first time with the group.

Jessamy becomes something like a confidant for Dream. She too has a hearing partner, Matthew. The amount she and Dream have in common is almost frightening. But in time Dream discovers it’s nice… to be seen. To be understood. She helps Dream comprehend the beauty of the silence even more. And that they can still attend hearing events just as before.

So with her encouragement, a few months down the line, Dream and Hob join her and Matthew at a music festival. Jessamy excitedly points out interpreters several of the bands have on stage, and Dream feels a bit of relief. He can also feel the vibrations all around him from the loud speakers, though it’s not as pronounced as they would be in a venue with wooden floors; the earth beneath their feet grounds the pulsating bass lines to something dull and unrecognizable.

Dream’s not quite fluent enough in ASL to understand every word the interpreters use, especially at the speed they’re going in to keep up with the song, but he gets the gist. And he has to admit it’s… fun, doing this. He hadn’t been to a concert or music festival in almost five years, and spending it with both Hob and his new friends is nice. It’s easy to stay within their safe space and not feel pressured to speak with strangers or awkwardly ignore them; everyone here minds their own business and in time, Dream loosens up.

After finding available, good seats for the next band they’d all agreed on, Hob and Dream set out to the nearest vendor to grab drinks and snacks for the four of them, while Jessamy and Matthew hold down the fort, so to speak.

While standing in line, Hob asks if Dream is enjoying himself. And, surprisingly, Dream is. He says as much with a smile and taking a playful nudge from Hob.

As the line shrinks and they come closer to the counter, Dream’s gaze moves from the short menu taped to the window to the man taking orders. His lips move sluggishly and hesitantly, speaking with an accent that makes it difficult for Dream to parse. But it doesn’t phase him, what everyone wants is on the menu and the transaction should be simple.

Now, Hob could just place the order for him– for all of them, but Dream had been determined, lately, to converse in transactions like this himself. It was good practice not only for Dream, but also whoever was taking his order as well. To learn patience and practice his communication skills. It was a little nerve wracking, but for the most part it was easy. If a cashier or barista or medical professional had trouble exchanging words with Dream, well, that’s what he carried a pen and pocketbook around for.

The person in front of them moves to the pickup counter and Dream sees the man behind the counter call out what must be a, “Next!” but the way his lips move, it looks more like, “Nect!”

Dream swallows and signs as he speaks, to– hopefully– indicate how this would potentially be a one-sided conversation.

“Two orders of fries, one mac and cheese, three shots of Bacardi, one shot of vodka, and a lemonade, please.”

The man barely looks at Dream while he types the order into an iPad. Dream nods, mostly to himself, and looks down as he reaches into his back pocket to grab his wallet.

When he looks back up, the man is in the middle of saying something to him.

Dream’s brows wrinkle.

“Can you repeat that? I can’t hear you.”

After he speaks and signs, Dream offers up his card, assuming the man just told him the total.

But the man visibly sighs and leans forward a bit, his mouth opening widely.

Dream focuses but only manages to make out the words “fries,” “double,” and “which do you want?”

“Um…” Dream licks his bottom lip. “One more time? Slowly, please.”

With a truly agitated face now, the man moves his lips again, but as Dream studies them, hoping to fill in the words he missed, instead new words are added and Dream finds himself stumped.

“Fries, yes. And singles, for the shots,” he guesses.

The man types something into his iPad but looks again at Dream with a growing look of irritation in his gaze. Dream looks behind him and sees a line of customers, before facing the man again, once again catching him in mid speech.

“Hold on,” Dream grumbles, settling the card down and digging through his pocket for the pen and paper. “Clearly I am deaf and raising your voice is not helping–”

Dream nearly jumps as Hob steps up suddenly to the counter, almost getting in front of Dream.

They exchange a few words before finally Hob nods and hands the guy his own card.

Dream stands silent, his pocket notebook in his hand and blinking slowly at Hob, who gives him a sheepish smile over his shoulder before nodding again to the man and taking both their cards back as well as the receipt.

They walk to the pickup counter without exchanging a word, meanwhile something begins to burn the back of Dream’s neck, prickling down his arms and coiling in his stomach.

Dream tugs on Hob’s arm as they settle next to the mobile vendor.

“What just happened?” He doesn’t speak. Dream can’t find his voice right now.

Hob rubs the back of his neck, his gaze focused on something behind Dream.

“No french fries,” he signs without confidence. “Curly fries only.”

Dream blinks. The uncomfortable feeling in his gut tightening.

“Did you just order for me?”

Hob’s shoulders deflate, nodding.

Dream gapes like a fish for a few seconds, his eyes darting from Hob to the man that just took their order, and back.

“I don’t want curly fries. I hate curly fries. We could have gone to another vendor. You didn’t have to–”

Dream cuts himself off, balling his hands into fists and taking a long breath, closing his eyes, shaking his head.

Hob always did this.

It took a while for Dream to notice, how if they were together, Hob would finish a conversation for Dream. Would speed an uncomfortable situation along with an interjection or provide unnecessary context with a stranger “He’s deaf, sorry…” without consenting with Dream first.

When Dream realized Hob was doing this, he would go quiet, unsure whether or not to stop him or correct him in some way. Dream never knew exactly what to say. Did Hob think Dream was incapable of handling tricky conversations himself? Did he think Dream was a hassle?

When Dream opens his eyes Hob’s hands are out, placating, his eyes apologetic.

“Why do you do that?”

Hob blinks. “What?”

Dream’s heart rate is steadily rising, his fingers shaking slightly.

“Make my decisions for me.”

“I didn’t realize I was,” Hob starts, his own signing gone fumbly. “I thought I was helping.”

“Yes. That’s the problem…” Dream starts, finally speaking again and letting his hands fall to his sides, his brain struggling to interpret correctly.

“What do you mean?” Hob asks.

“You don’t need to rush me out of an uncomfortable situation,” Dream starts again, his hands gesticulating uselessly. “If I’m communicating with someone whom I can’t understand, we can figure it out. They will learn. They need to learn.”

Judging by the way Hob is nervously looking around, Dream’s volume is surely rising. But he finds he doesn’t care.

“I’m not this thing you need to handle with gloves. Let me see a problem through until the end. No matter how long it takes.”

Dream is breathing heavily, he realizes, sucking in a gulp of air.

“Of course not.” Hob finally speaks, forgetting to sign. “I'm sorry.”

Hob’s eyes are welling up with tears and it somehow makes Dream more agitated, more words stumbling from his mouth without his permission.

“Then stop treating me like a burden!”

Dream turns and walks away.

It’s foolish, and childish. And as Dream stomps away, his own vision becoming blurred with tears, he knows it’s not just this moment that’s made him snap. It’s the culmination of events from the past year of being fully disabled. He hates that he can’t hear. He hates this adjustment period. He wishes he’d been born deaf so at least this hurdle, this life change wouldn’t feel so mountainous.

Dream wipes his eyes shamefully as his pace picks up to a run, pushing past people blindly. Regret screams in his bones with every step he makes, with every inch he puts between Hob and him. His chest aches with the urge to turn around and apologize, but he shouldn’t have to. He shouldn’t!

Dream’s shoes clumsily connect with the dirt underneath him, his face becoming hot and, as he rounds the corner of an unoccupied stall, Dream collapses to the ground and allows the tears he’d been fighting back to fall freely, a sob choking in his throat.

He grips his hair as he cries, his face stuck between his knees. The past year flashes before Dream’s eyes, all of the hardships, the doctors’ visits, the fights with Hob. He didn’t deserve Dream. All of his kindness and patience and for what? For Dream to snap on a dime and expect too much out of him all at once?

Dream groans loudly, agitated at himself for seeing the problem; him, and unsure how to change. He knows he has a right to his feelings, but communicating them was so difficult. He’s becoming impatient with himself, with his slow learning curve, with Hob’s complacency to stay in their safe little bubble and treat Dream like this breakable thing.

Dream couldn’t tell how much time had passed, but his sobs had stifled down to sniffles, and by the time he felt a hand gently land on his shoulder, Dream was doodling shapes in the dirt.

His head snaps up and finds Jessamy staring back at him, her brows creased in worry.

“Hey…” She’s bent over, her hair falling in her face. “What’s wrong?”

Dream ducks his head, shaking it, officially feeling foolish for running away. The regret he’d felt for leaving Hob starts up again and he suddenly feels so scared. At this rate, Hob would break up with him. Surely he was getting sick of Dream’s dramatics, him lashing out.

“Hob and I never fought…” Dream starts, his hands moving sluggishly. “... when I was hearing.”

Jessamy plops on the ground in front of Dream.

“It’s me,” Dream continues. “I’ve become so… sensitive, since going deaf. I feel like, sometimes, Hob treats me like a child. Like he wants to wrap me in bubble wrap. It’s so infuriating– I’m not some helpless thing that can’t figure things out!”

“No, you’re not…” Jessamy starts, reaching a hand out and giving Dream’s knee a shake.

“It is OK to feel like this. You’ve only been deaf for a year…” her brows come up encouragingly. “The transition is tough, but it will get easier, in time.”

Dream nods solemnly, tracing lines in the dirt again. Jessamy waves her hand to get his attention once more.

“And you’re not alone, you know.” She smiles gently. “You got me and Matty–” she huffs a laugh at the look Dream gives her. “... and the entire gang to support you.”

Dream knew she meant everyone at their d/Deaf meetups and offered her a small smile. She’s right, of course. Despite how withdrawn and antisocial Dream had been in the beginning, even now still creeping out of his shell, the people he’d surrounded himself with had been nothing but kind and accepting and willing to listen and connect in ways Dream hadn’t thought possible.

“Hob is still around, too,” Jessamy interrupts his thoughts, her brows lifting knowingly. “That man loves you so much; you should see the way he looks at you– it’s disgusting.”

Dream manages to crack a real, genuine smile at that, especially with the way Jessamy is fluttering her eyelashes and putting on a spot-on impression of Hob’s puppy dog eyes.

He pulls a hand through his hair and looks down again. Images of Hob’s easy smile flashing behind his eyes, his hands caressing Dream’s skin, his strong arms lifting him in a hug, his sweet lips tracing the lines of his jaw and ear, murmuring sweetness that Dream could no longer hear but feel instead. Could plainly see Hob’s devotion and affection in their everyday lives together, how he would always start the coffee in the mornings so Dream would wake up to the smell of it. How Hob would leave the hallway light on during the day so Dream would come home– late from work– and have something to see by. How he always offered to help with dinner prep, chopping veggies or stirring something, often using the excuse to crowd Dream against the counter and kiss Dream silly.

“That man would pull the moon down for you, I hope you know.”

He would, Dream realizes, swallowing thickly. And he would do the same for Hob.

Dream nods, wringing his fingers out as Jessamy continues on.

“Remember, this is a learning experience for him, too.”

Her painted nails move with perfect fluency, always slowly for Dream to understand. And as one thumb comes down from her forehead to meet the thumb on her other hand, Dream nods again, sniffling and wiping his eyes.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Her lips curl sweetly, gaze flicking sideways suddenly.

She nudges her head. “Speak of the devil…”

Dream looks too, and finds Hob approaching them.

He curses to himself, wiping his eyes with more urgency and catching the almost giggle that Jessamy makes.

“I’ll leave you two alone?”

Dream takes a steadying inhale, pushes his shoulders back, and makes a weak fist and nods it back and forth.

Jessamy stands just as Hob steps up to them, his eyes guarded yet hopeful. She makes a sign of texting before stepping around Hob with a clap to his shoulder.

Hob watches Jessamy leave before meeting Dream’s gaze again, but says nothing. His eyes never leave Dream as he crouches down and takes a seat next to him, leaning back against the wall.

Dream stares back, studying the lines of Hob’s face, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, which are shiny and puffy, like he’d been sobbing, too.

“I’m sorry,” Dream whispers, pushing a fist into his chest.

Hob sighs, his shoulders going with it. He speaks as he signs.

“I’m sorry, too.”

Dream shakes his head. “You’re always the one apologizing for my outbursts–”

“But you were right,” Hob interjects, his eyes pleading. “Dream, can I say something?”

Dream’s heart leaps into his throat, swallowing harshly. He nods.

“You need to tell me…” Hob’s gaze shoots up to the sky, as if searching for the words for his hands to convert. “... the first time, when I do something that makes you uncomfortable. So I can remedy it immediately.”

Dream takes a deep breath as Hob continues, his hands moving slowly but surely.

“Don’t let bad things fester and build. Talk to me.” His hand comes to his mouth in a motion similar to how Dream explained on the couch months ago. “Communicate. If you don’t correct me in the moment, I’m bound to repeat it.”

He takes Dream’s hands, his thumbs tracing circles over the knuckles.

“I want…” Hob awkwardly makes the simple motions with his hand still clasped with Dream’s, making him bite back a smile. “... to do this right.”

Dream takes another breath that rattles, his eyes prickling at the corners.

Hob’s eyes have gone watery, too, his smile lopsided.

“OK?”

Dream nods. “OK.”

Hob rises up on his knees just as Dream does, falling into each other. Dream squeezes his arms around Hob’s shoulders, tucking his nose into Hob’s hair and breathing in the scent of him, letting it envelop him and calm him.

Hob’s lips brush the skin behind Dream’s ear, pressing a kiss there, before he feels them move.

I love you.

#dreamling #dream/hob #dreamling bingo 2024 #sidenote: yes this is an american AU #because i know ASL and not BSL #yes im that simple lol #hoo! i made it!#my first fill letsagooo #this one kicked my ass sheesh #my writing

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luvvictoria · 3 months ago

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Hiiii i love your basketball au w/ sukuna sm!

Would you be ok with writting about reader and sukuna with him regretting letting you walk away after the last fight? With them actually getting together?

Ty for your time friend! 💖🌸

Not the time to think about it pt.II

+ pairings. basketball player!sukuna x f!reader

+ tags. romance, heavy (?) angst, age gap , idk bro , angst to fluff (??)

+ a/n. hi my love 💞 Thank you for your request 🤗 I love the idea of them actually getting together but of course I’ll make it a bit of angst 😋

Aftermath

You threw yourself into your studies, trying to drown in your textbooks, hoping that if you just worked hard enough, if you buried yourself deep enough in the endless pages of research and lectures, you could forget him.

But it never worked.

No matter how many nights you stayed up until dawn, staring blankly at words that blurred together on the the pages of your books, Sukuna was always there — lingering in the back of your mind like a ghost.

The pain clung to you like a shadow. It wasn’t the sharp, immediate sting you felt when you had first confronted him, when his silence had confirmed your worst fear. No, this pain was quieter, more insidious. It seeped into every part of you, weighing down your chest until it was hard to breathe, until even the simplest things — like hearing his name on TV or passing by the court where he practiced — felt like a knife slowly twisting in your heart.

Every time you saw him, even from afar, it was like tearing open a wound that refused to heal. You would catch glimpses of him on campus, surrounded by his usual crowd, his laughter echoing through the air. And every time, you had to fight the urge to cry. Because to the world, he was still the same Sukuna —charming, carefree, untouchable. But to you? To you, he was the man who had made you believe in something more, only to shatter it.

It felt cruel, how life continued as if nothing had changed, as if your world hadn’t crumbled the night you walked away. You tried to hate him, tried to convince yourself that he wasn’t worth this heartache. But no matter how much you tried to forget him, to erase the memory of his touch, his smile, his whispered promises, you couldn’t.

Nights were the hardest. Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, the silence pressing down on you — it was in those quiet moments that the loneliness hit the hardest. You found yourself remembering the way his arms had felt around you, how you had felt safe, warm, loved, even if only for a fleeting moment. And now, all of that was gone, like smoke slipping through your fingers.

You would dream about him sometimes. In your dreams, things were different. He hadn’t hurt you, hadn’t broken your heart. In your dreams, he still loved you, and everything was as it should have been. But then you would wake up, and the cold reality would settle over you like a weight you couldn’t shake. The man you had loved — the man you still loved —wasn’t coming back.

It was a cruel irony, really. The more you tried to move on, the more you felt trapped in the memory of what you had lost. You wanted to be angry, to scream, to let it all out. But instead, you simply existed, numb to everything except the quiet ache in your chest that reminded you, day after day, that he was gone, and you were left alone to pick up the pieces of your broken heart.

And the worst part ? The worst part was knowing that you had loved him so deeply, with everything you had, only to realize it hadn’t been enough. That no matter how hard you tried to be what he needed, in the end, you couldn’t save him from himself.

For Sukuna, life continued as it always had. He went through the motions — attending practices, playing games, flashing that same arrogant smile for the cameras, surrounded by the fans and women who once made him feel untouchable. But now, none of it mattered. It all felt hollow, meaningless without you. The noise of the crowds became a distant hum, the adrenaline of winning a game nothing but a fleeting distraction from the aching void that had taken root in his chest.

At first, he had tried to shake it off, convincing himself that he didn’t need you — that he could keep living the way he always had, unattached and carefree. But it didn’t take long for the weight of his guilt and regret to settle in, pressing down on him like an unrelenting force. Everywhere he turned, he saw you. In the empty spot on the couch where you used to sit during his late-night practices, in the way the sunlight streamed into his apartment in the mornings, reminding him of the quiet moments you’d shared, tangled up in each other.

Every day, he replayed that night in his mind, the night you had looked at him with such raw vulnerability and asked the question that tore everything apart. "Did you cheat on me?" The silence that had followed felt like a lifetime, and now, every time he thought back to it, he wished more than anything that he had said something — anything. That he had fought for you, begged for your forgiveness, told you he was sorry.

But he hadn’t. He had just stood there, frozen, letting the best thing that had ever happened to him slip through his fingers.

In the days that followed, Sukuna tried to fill the void with the same distractions he always had. He surrounded himself with people, went out to parties, flirted with women who threw themselves at him. But nothing felt the same. The momentary highs only left him feeling more empty, more alone. He found himself searching for you in every crowd, his eyes scanning for that familiar warmth, that quiet presence that had once brought him a sense of peace he didn’t even know he was missing.

The nights were the worst. When the world quieted down, and there was no game, no crowd to drown out the silence, Sukuna would lie awake, staring at the ceiling. His thoughts would spiral, the regret clawing at him with every passing minute. He would think about all the moments he had taken for granted — the way you’d laugh softly when he teased you, the way you’d always ask him about his day, genuinely caring about the answers. He remembered how your fingers had felt in his hair, how you’d look at him with such tenderness, a tenderness he had never deserved.

He missed you more than he thought possible. It was an ache that wouldn’t go away, a constant reminder that he had ruined the one thing that had ever felt real in his life. And the worst part? He knew it was his fault. He had pushed you away, hurt you in ways he could never take back. He had let his pride, his reckless need for control, blind him to what really mattered. And now, you were gone, living your life without him.

Sukuna had always prided himself on being strong, untouchable. But without you, he felt weak, fragile in a way he had never known. He tried to tell himself that he could move on, that this was just another fleeting chapter in his life. But no matter how much he tried, the truth was undeniable.

He had loved you.

He had loved you deeply, more than he had ever been able to admit, even to himself. And now, it was too late.

In the quiet of his apartment, when the world had long since fallen asleep, Sukuna would sit in the dark, his hands trembling as he thought of you. He wondered if you were happier without him, if you had moved on. The thought tore at him, a bitter mix of jealousy and sorrow. He wondered if you ever thought of him, if you missed him the way he missed you. But he knew, deep down, that you deserved better —someone who could give you the love and respect he had failed to provide.

And that realization was the most painful of all. Because Sukuna Ryomen, the man who had always been in control, who had always lived life on his terms, had lost the one person who had ever truly mattered. And now, no matter how much he regretted it, there was nothing he could do to change that.

The guilt, the regret — it consumed him. It followed him every second of every day, a constant reminder of what he had lost. And no matter how many games he won, how many women threw themselves at him, it was never enough to fill the void you had left behind.

He had always loved you — deep down, in ways he could never put into words. But Sukuna had been too blind to see it, too arrogant to admit it, and far too terrified to confront the feelings that stirred in the depths of his heart. Love had always been something distant, fleeting, a game he thought he could play and leave behind. Until you came along.

But now… now it was too late. Or was it?

The ache of your absence gnawed at him constantly, a slow, suffocating weight that only grew heavier with time. Days turned into weeks, then months, and still, you haunted his every thought. The memory of your smile — soft and real in a way nothing else in his world was — burned behind his eyes when he tried to sleep. The warmth of your voice, the way you’d say his name with that tenderness he didn’t deserve, echoed in the quiet corners of his mind, filling every silence with your absence.

For the first time in his life, Sukuna felt utterly lost. It wasn’t the fame or the women or the adrenaline of the game that he craved anymore. It was you. Just you.

He remembered the night you left—the look on your face, the pain in your eyes, how you had tried so hard to hold back the tears as you walked away from him. And he had let you. He had stood there, watching you leave, unable to say the one thing that might have kept you with him.

“I love you.”

Those words had been trapped inside him, buried beneath his pride, beneath the layers of fear and self-doubt. And by the time he realized the truth, you were already gone.

Now, every moment without you was an unbearable reminder of what he had lost. He’d see you in the smallest of things — the scent of your perfume lingering in the jacket you once borrowed, a song on the radio that had played during one of your late-night drives. And each time, the regret hit him like a punch to the gut, leaving him breathless, wishing he could turn back time, undo the hurt he caused.

But the most painful realization of all? He knew you had loved him too. You had given him your heart on a silver plate, placed your trust in him, and he had shattered it. He had taken you for granted, thinking you’d always be there, always waiting. But you weren’t. You couldn’t.

Sukuna thought about calling you every day. His finger would hover over your name in his phone, his heart pounding in his chest as he wrestled with the fear that maybe it was too late — that maybe you had moved on, that you were happier without him. He didn’t deserve your forgiveness, didn’t deserve another chance. But he also couldn’t live with the idea of never trying.

The Last Chance

One night, after yet another game that left him feeling emptier than ever, Sukuna found himself standing outside your apartment building. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, his breath clouding in the cold night air as he stared up at the window where he knew your light used to shine. Everything in him screamed to turn around, to leave before he made things worse. But he couldn’t. Not this time.

He knocked on your door, his heart hammering so loud he could hear it in his ears. When you opened it, he was struck by how much he had missed you — how seeing your face, even for a moment, sent a shock of warmth through the ice that had settled over his heart.

You stood there, staring at him in disbelief, your expression guarded, but there was a flicker of something in your eyes. Hurt, yes. But also the smallest glimmer of hope.

“I know I don’t deserve to be here,” Sukuna said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet, raw. “I know I hurt you, and I can’t take that back. But there’s something I need to tell you, and if you still never want to see me again after this, I’ll walk away for good.”

You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t close the door either. So he continued, the words he should have spoken months ago tumbling out all at once.

“I was a coward,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I thought I could run from what I felt, that I could keep pretending I didn’t need anyone. But I was wrong. I need you. I love you. I’ve always loved you, but I was too scared to admit it, even to myself. And now, I’m standing here, asking — no, begging— for one more chance. Because losing you… it’s the only thing that’s ever made me realize what love really is.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and for a moment, Sukuna thought he had broken you all over again. His chest tightened with fear, and he was ready to turn away, to walk out of your life for good. But then, you spoke, your voice trembling but soft.

“Why now, Sukuna ? Why did it take losing me for you to see ?”

He swallowed hard, his throat burning as he fought to keep his composure. “Because I didn’t know what I had until it was gone. I was selfish, and I’m sorry. I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m asking you for another chance. Let me prove that I can be the man you deserve.”

You stood there for what felt like an eternity, the weight of his words hanging in the air between you. And then, slowly, you stepped aside, letting the door open just a little wider. Your eyes met his, filled with pain but also a spark of something that hadn’t completely faded.

“Don’t make me regret this,” you whispered.

And in that moment, Sukuna knew he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t let you slip away again. He’d hold onto you with everything he had because now he understood — losing you had been the beginning of the end. But maybe, just maybe, this could be the beginning of something new. Something real. Something that could last.

It wasn’t too late after all.

✨ Enjoyed this story? ✨ If you’d like to support my writing, consider leaving a tip or commissioning a custom fanfic on Ko-fi. Every bit helps, and I’m so grateful for your support! 💕

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sehodreams · 10 months ago

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Could I request ways Riize members are toxic and possive and how utterly turns into sex

I hope I understood the request, toxic!riize is so interesting, maybe I lost myself a little bit, and sadly I couldn't imagine everyone. Also, Sungchan one is based on a few headcanons I've read before in the platform, I kind of almost wrote a full fic there and with Eunseok hahahaha

TW and tags: toxic!riize, dark!riize, manipulation, lying, a touch of verbal abuse, sexual content.

Eunseok, like I've said before, is really controlling. He wants to know where you are, who you are with and why you are even out, being capable of flooding your phone with texts demanding your location and, if you don't answer, going straight for your friends. This is pretty much based on how possessive he's with you, even before he starts courting you, he sees you as a potential partner only if he sees you're willing to obey him, for example, watching you for some time and how you talk to your parents, "yes dad, I'm here at school, I'll call you when I get back home", "dad but I want to stay, please... 'kay, I'll be waiting for you outside", and finding that you're a good girl easy to manage, he'll go for it. So, throughout the whole relationship, he won't have a hard time telling you to come back home, sometimes he did with nice words and little bribes like gifts and desserts, and in worst cases, lies about him not feeling well and hurting. The last one, of course, he only used it when you made things difficult for him, and it's not hard to convince you to come back, but it's hard to make you stay when you're so angry you can't stop crying while you say how preoccupied you were, you're honest, you say that only because you really were like that, so to stop you from leaving him, he'll apologize with that sweet voice he has, pushing you until he has you under him, and after that he would treat you as good as never before to make you forget why you were even mad, whispering exactly what you want to hear, all the praises you wished you had heard before, "such a good girl, listening to me so well'', and filling you with love remarks to make you remember that there's no one who loves you more than him, ''my pretty baby, crying for me because you were preoccupied, there's no one as good as you for me out there, my perfect girl.''

Sungchan is a really jealous boy, he loves his smart girl, he loves that whenever he says the name of your university everyone's impressed with the catch you are. Pretty, smart, kind, you're just perfect, which sounds amazing when he shows you off, but always makes him paranoid when he's not with you. He doesn't study with you, he's pretty, but he's not smart, so he lives in the gym and does his best to live as a trainer, and he knows he shouldn't bother you when you're so busy, but he can't stop himself. He calls you ten times a day and needs to meet every one of your friends, to feel calm and check that none of them put his position as your boyfriend in danger. He goes for you when you finish class to walk you home, and if you have a party, he's going with you. He's so fucking afraid of losing you that he can't even sleep well, and he's usually nice in bed, but if he sees you talking to a man or about a man too much, he gets lost when he touches you, leaving his nice side and pretty smile aside, he touches you until you can't talk anymore, a mess after so many orgasms, "so smart and pretty at the same time, I'm the only one who can make you this dumb, right?", because he believes that, if you can't even walk out of his apartment, of course you'll never leave him behind.

Sohee is extremely insecure, he wants to trust you, but he just can't. He tries to be good and contain himself, but before he notices it, he's already doing everything he knows he shouldn't, like checking your phone when you go to the bathroom, creating a fake profile to watch your social media and your friends, and watching all your and their stories to see if you told him the truth or not. He has tried numerous times to stop, he knows he shouldn't do it, that if he wants to have a healthy relationship with you he should trust you, but he can't, so when he sees you start suspecting he checks your phone and you take it to the bathroom with you, he decides he needs to do anything to see what you're hiding. So he fucks you even better than normal, the fire inside him pushing him to continue and continue thrusting inside you, "I'm sorry baby, I'll change, just feel how much I love you, you trust me right?", the insecurity giving him the strength to make you cum until you pass out, and once you're just like he wanted, deep asleep after everything he has done to you, he finds himself finally relaxing when he sees your phone as much as he wants, because that's a cycle that has no end.

Wonbin feels he has the right to control you and your decisions, what you eat, where you go, and especially, what you wear, so he's always judging how you look, sometimes even choosing your outfits himself because you really can't do anything well, and he can't let himself be seeing beside you if you're not looking your best. Like he says, he has a reputation to maintain. And doing all that, of course he decides when to fuck and where too. If you're in public and he feels the need to have you, you don't really have an option, whether you're on a reunion, a public place, even if you're extremely busy, if he wants to slip his hand under the skirt he chose, make you lie down and push to the side your pretty shorts or order you to go to your knees and suck him good, you'll do it, after all, he chose your outfits with the aim of getting what he wants fast and easy, and if you're good, he'll talk to you with a hint of affection and pride "shit baby, you'll have to redo your makeup, just look how you're crying all your eyeliner, but you look so good like that too", but if you don't leave him satisfied, he'll talk to you without an ounce of care, almost hurting you, ''Don't you dare come out looking like that, I don't need my girlfriend to look like a slut.''

#riize smut #dark!riize #eunseok smut #sungchan smut #wonbin smut #sohee smut #riize hard hours #riize hard thoughts #dark riize

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spongewormedpants · 1 year ago

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is it normal to have the lingering feeling that a movie left you with for like a month? 😸😸

um i i wonder what mvoi e this is in reference to um um umu ummmmm

#as you are movie #as you are 2016 #it’s hard to tag this because none of them have last names #this movie is so fucking sad #and eerie #such an offputting film #i loved it #it also broke me #and makes me cry

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dreamlandbarnes · 6 days ago

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f1 fic recs

a compilation of all the fics i've been reading in the f1 rpf tag on ao3! please leave comments and kudos for the authors, and check the tags before reading. sorted by pairing, and summary and word count are provided. none of these fics are mine.

if your fic is on here and you want it removed, please let me know!

charles leclerc / max verstappen

bloodsport by 140445 | 37,711 words | M

“I don’t care about then, you are here now,” Charles says. “You are on my side now.” Max is on his side. It’ll feel like that, too, at some point. Surely. Or: Max and Charles as teammates for the 24 hours of Le Mans.

such murderous and vengeful desire by foggystars | 20,676 words | E

Where Carlos’ girlfriend has her fingers crossed, keeps covering her eyes as if she can’t bear to watch, Max is focused, mouth set in a hard line. He’s leaning in, balancing on the edge of his seat. To anybody else he looks intent, focused on the screen. To Charles, he looks like a bird, poised to take wing. Like he’s about to fly right through the screen and take the steering wheel from Charles’ clumsy hands, get in there and drive the car himself. When Max Verstappen suffers a career ending injury, he pours all his effort into turning his old rival, Charles Leclerc, into a worthy champion. Five years and two world championships later, they finally decide to talk about it.

like in love with me by linearity | 7,800 words | T

Austria 2019, a two-person house party, Abu Dhabi 2021, a silly lover’s quarrel, and a stove-side morning proposal.

Anonym by additiv | 13,971 words | E

The truth is, Max finds Charles unbelievably annoying. He’s chaotic and unpredictable. He’s staring at Max across the room one moment, and in the next, seems to have forgotten he exists. He swaps clothes with people at random, whipping off his faded Gucci t-shirt in the middle of the dance floor, to trade it for some girl’s crop top, laughing and crowding close to block the view of her body while they make the exchange. When he disappears to the bathroom, Max never knows whether he’ll reappear with glitter on his eyelids, or white powder on his nose. He flirts with every person in the room, and probably sleeps with them too. He ignores Max completely, then goes home with him. He’s always gone when Max wakes up; nothing left behind, nothing missing. He refuses to stay the night, but refuses to let Max get over him. And, he refuses to let Max know anything about him.

when you cut me open by triangularity (linearity) | 44,900 words | E

Well, Charles concedes, miserably. He did die last night. A few days staying with his vampire ex-boyfriend probably isn’t the worst thing he’ll have gone through in January.

a life in your shape by weiwuxian (BreathOfDream) | 29,431 words | E

“Oh god, not you,” Charles groans, crossing his arms on his chest. The Batman visibly rolls his eyes (blue, of course, because all men that messed with Charles’ life had that in common apparently) at his reaction, but another look at Charles makes him step closer. “Yes, always a pleasure. Are you ok?” or: 5 times both Max and the Batman makes Charles' life a lot more complicated than needed + 1 time he doesn't

Frecheit by additiv | 208,723 words | E

The first time that Max heard the name Charles Leclerc was in 2022, just after winning his first WDC. Maybe it only stuck because he heard it twice in one night; first as Leclerc was announced as the 2022 F3 champion. Second, as Helmut lamented not signing him to the Red Bull driver development program. Now, Max is ready to put the newly-promoted Ferrari driver in his place. The problem is, Leclerc seems to think his place is on the top step of the podium. And he is not playing by the rules. An age-difference fic, where they never got to work out their differences as kids. 3-time WDC Max's experience of being personally victimised by baby-Charles.

in dream by 140445 | 81,025 words | E

Charles tried to figure out the dream on his own. In the morning he sat down with a cup of coffee, trying to make sense of what he had seen—he even googled it. Surely, Charles couldn't be the first or only person to dream about someone he shouldn't. But there were no search results for my professional rival is suddenly also my soulmate or soulmate dream of someone i'm not supposed to want???. (In a world where soulmates identified each other by sharing a dream, Charles dreamt of the last person he expected.)

heart of the wind by pipitass | 13,830 words | M

There’s a slip of paper taped next to one of the doorbells — third floor, second door. It should, in theory, be the one directly across from his own. Max V. “Yes?” “Uh— hi.” He clears his throat. “It’s your neighbor. From across the street. Your, your clothes…” He doesn’t really know what to say after that. Hi, I got into a street fight with your bedsheets yesterday. Welcome to the neighborhood.

charles_leclerc ✔️ posted: 😘 by ninetqs | 11,500 words | M

Charles posts a photo with a mystery man and casually breaks the Internet in the process.

cameras in the traffic lights by c_e_1 | 9,958 words | M

Pop Crave @PopCrave • Aug 13 2023 Popstar Charles Leclerc has put his instagram on private after fans spotted Formula 1 driver Max Verstappen in the background of his vacation photos 303 comments | 1.6K retweets | 10K likes

(don't read) the last page by mintchocolatechip97 | 7,475 words | E

Max feels a light tap on his arm, and turns to see the beautiful door-opener, chestnut brown curls fluffed up on his head like he’s been running his hands through his hair. “I have been on a set a time or two,” the man says, trying and failing to wink, “but this is my first time in a writers room, so you are not the only rookie here.” He clearly speaks English fluently, but has a smidge of a European accent, which Max thinks might be French. “I’m sorry,” Max says, a little annoyed that this stranger is speaking to him as if they know each other, “I didn’t catch your name?” Several emotions flit over the man’s face, in such quick succession that Max can’t quite catch them all. In the end, he looks mortified. “Oh, I am so sorry,” he says, “This is going to sound terrible, like I am the worst kind of person, but I thought you would know who I was.” Dr. Max Verstappen gets hired as the expert medical consultant for a new Netflix show. Charles Leclerc, former teen heartthrob, stars.

all i know of love is hunger by 140445 | 28,509 words | E

Anger flares in Charles’ chest. Not the kind that he feels in the car, when he’s on Max’s tail, when they are braking late and later. The one that’s been looming over his head ever since Max announced his retirement. The one he hasn’t been able to tame until now, until he can give it a name. Betrayal.

hollywood and highland by japrufrocks | 26,730 words | E

Max had left New York a week before Charles had, seven days exactly. Max had gone to Hollywood; Charles had gone to a hospital. Now they're starring in the same film. Hollywood gives its darlings everything. It takes everything too.

straight lines (that unwind you) by 140445 | 16,330 words | E

“Do you know him?” Arthur asks. “No,” Charles decides. Because he does not. He knows Max is a mathematics major, and that he plays chess. And that he hits the gym. And what he looks like when he comes. Details.

all to play for by linearity | 49,300 words | E

Charles Leclerc is not at Red Bull to win races. He is here to win championships.

my thoughts will echo your name by witchee_writer | 38,826 words | M

“Do you think you’ll ever want to do Le Mans one day?” asked Max, glancing sideways at the man sitting next to him. Charles’ eyes lit up, a grin spreading across his face. “I think I want to win Le Mans one day.”

heart on your sleeve by nyoomfruits | 4,812 words | T

The thing about having a racing helmet that constantly displays your emotions for the whole world to see, is that you kind of get used to it after a while. These days Charles almost forgets it’s even a thing. Almost. But then he goes and falls in love.

ghost of you by nyoomfruits | 3,436 words | T

“All right, are you now finally ready to explain why four time world driver champion Charles Leclerc is currently in my living room?” Max says, as Charles towels off his hair. Charles pauses, lets the towel fall into his lap, stares at Max with wide eyes. “I’m sorry, did you say four time?”

The HR Situation by thearchercore | 3,027 words | Gen

Jacob found out many things during his first month in the new HR role - Mary and Connor from Aero Engineering were dating. Thomas and Nick from Comms got recently divorced and it's a sensitive subject. Eddie from Legal had to go to an Anger Management class but hasn't had any issues since his return. Oh, and also - Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc were fucking weird about each other. or: Charles and Max go to Mercedes and the HR Department is in shambles.

Sawtooth by nottonyharrison | 40,305 words | E

In another universe, Max rejected karting at the age of fifteen, no longer prepared to be a proxy for his father’s dream. He moved back to Belgium to live with his mum and sister, excelled at school, and eventually went on to complete a Masters of Mechanical Engineering. Now 27, after four years working for Alfa Romeo and Sauber, first as a junior performance engineer and then on the pit wall for Zhou Guanyu, he’s put forward for a job with Ferrari when Carlos Sainz is left without a race engineer thanks to the increasingly hectic F1 schedule. The problem is, Max has a crush on Carlos’ teammate. A huge, obvious, embarrassing crush that leaves him stumbling for words, face burning every time he’s within six feet of the guy. What makes it even worse is that sometimes he’s sure that Charles is looking right back.

leminiscate by weiwuxian (BreathofDream) | 27,799 words | E

Charles tries to imagine Max, on the opposite side of the kitchen. Eating bread too, like he did that first morning of the After—gross and charming. Tries to think about the way he would hold him, maybe. Of the softness of his lips, glossed by butter; and how he would laugh and push him away. His phone dings and he blinks himself awake once again.

achilles comes down by sincerelylancelot | 21,068 words | M

The World Championship trophy rests in his trembling hands, his name etched in fine gold. It isn't until he's staring down at it—his name nestled close to Max’s—that he realises his dreams have always been carved out of someone else’s pain. Jules. Max. And now, maybe even himself.

charles leclerc / carlos sainz jr

a bad recompense for your love by steviethenarwhal | 65,162 words | M

“I do not want to date you,” Charles says. Carlos’s eyes slide warily over to him. He tries to explain. “I do not date men. It would be… not smart.” “I don’t want to date you either,” Carlos says. “I do not date racecar drivers.”

translation theory by linearity | 9,500 words | E

Charles Leclerc, Ferrari’s golden boy, their Il Predestinato. He likes it up the ass and likes getting fucked by rockstars who have more tattoos than thoughts in their brains. What a fucking joke.

semiotic study by linearity | 8,600 words | E

Carlos knows. He knows what this is and what this is not. This is not romance, this is not love, but Charles makes it so easy to slip into that illusion. Charles makes it so hard, and Carlos cannot be without.

last night by venerat | 24,259 words | E

Rule #1: When you go to America, don't lose your virginity to your best friend's roommate. Charles fails Rule #1.

Good Boy by chiliconcarlos | 8,445 words | E

Really, it’s all Alex’s fault. ~~ Or: the one where Charles and Carlos want to settle the question of who's better in bed.

at the dinner table with god and my father by Cloudcollector | 4,599 words | M

There is a table in his house that knows more about him than his father. Or, Carlos and his father. And the family dinner table through the years.

win or lose (it's how you play the game) by chiliconcarlos | 18,321 words | E

It all starts because of a stupid bet. Or: Carlos suggests a hickey bet for their '23 season, and it goes about how you'd expect.

darling by magnificentbirb | words | T

The pet names begin as a joke.

carlos sainz jr / oscar piastri

take it or leave it by venerat | 6,771 words | E

r/relationships: My (22M) coworker (29M) keeps irritating me at work

he just turned in like i didn't exist by linearity | 36,500 words | E

Oscar doesn’t have a problem with his soulmate. It’s his soulmate who has the fucking problem.

Happy Death Race by powerfulowl (playmyace) | 28,390k words | E

Carlos gazes up at the fake blue sky. Dopey grin, contrapposto pose, head as empty as the cottony clouds above. “Look, look. Look, Piastri. It is always daylight.” Oscar imagines pushing him into the piss water canal. "Yeah, cool. Stop dying!" (Oscar is in a time loop and Carlos won't stop dying.)

when both our cars collide by buildyourfences | 8,483 words | M

It’s race day, which means his phone shouldn’t be ringing. And yet, it is. “Carlos, why are you not at the track yet? We are waiting for you.” “But–” “I sent you the updated schedule last night, please get here as soon as possible.” The call ends. He blinks down at the phone in his hand. Friday, March 1. Well, that’s not right. Carlos is trapped in a time loop. He can't stop crashing with Oscar.

at a constant speed by wisteriagoesvroom (bobaheadshark) | 11,676 words | E

“Are you close?” Oscar asks. “What does it look like?” “I wasn’t expecting it to be, uh, so…” What? Oscar wants to add. Hot? Desperate? Pathetic? All of the above? --- Or, carcar get themselves into a situationship, and it just keeps situating.

left a calling card so they would know that it was me by xxxdeerlordxxx | 6,139 words | E

Carlos continues to sit there, in the cockpit with his back to the wall, pieces of the torn advertisements raining down on him. He can see a big screen from where he’s at, the replays they show over and over, of Carlos spinning out, of Oscar driving away from the incident like nothing happened. Because of course no one believes him. But Carlos knows that Oscar’s to blame. Just not in the way people might think.

hatred cradles you by foggystars | 6,829 words | E

“You see?” Carlos asks, hanging up the phone. “He does not pick up.” Oscar shrugs, unsure why Carlos seems to think this is his problem. Just because Oscar’s his teammate doesn’t mean he knows where Lando is at all times, like some sort of twink-seeking missile. Then Carlos says, “I wait for him in here,” and nods to himself. He’s walking into Oscar’s hotel room before he can stop him, and all Oscar can do is blink stupidly at the empty stretch of hallway where Carlos once stood.

in midnight’s jaws by Springsteen | 30,806 words | E

Werewolves are fiction, the stuff of books and movies just like witches and zombies. Men do not turn into wolves, or fly on broomsticks, or raise the dead. There must be a logical explanation for the restlessness in Carlos's blood, for the waves of pain so sudden and intense it feels as though his bones are trying to break free of his body. Surely there is a perfectly good reason for Carlos to have woken in the dirt the morning after a full moon, with no idea where he is or how he got there. And surely there was a reason he turned to Oscar Piastri, of all people, for help.

pulling teeth by arboretics | 9,030 words | Not Rated

Oscar is very private, very in control. Carlos pretends he is both of those things, too. But after a late night collision in Baku 2024, things spiral between them into something straddling a game and an uncomfortable intimacy. A year on, Oscar and Lando are battling for the championship, Carlos is fighting for low points finishes, and Oscar loses his grip on the whole situation.

the better half of a good time by antimonyandthyme | 4,413 words | E

“Most guys, they look at the date.” He manages to make it sound both admiring and chiding. Oscar is very quickly losing control of this conversation. “Do you make a habit of just giving your license out? To every stranger you meet?” “Only those I really like.”

reckless attention by crescenteluce | 4,290 words | E

It’s probably on Oscar to be the bigger person here, to tell Carlos if he can’t do it sober, he shouldn’t be doing it at all. But that’s the thing about Carlos – he doesn’t exactly inspire Oscar to be the best version of himself.

george russell / max verstappen

winning mentality by linearity | 18,500 words | E

It’s not, like, a thing. It’s only happened twice, if you don’t count the time during the pre-season when Max shoved a thigh against George’s crotch, and George, touched-deprived and broken-hearted, let out a sharp gasp and came instantly. Max, looking shocked and frightened, stormed away.

cut your teeth by 140445 | 9,224 words | E

And that is the thing that brought George here. Eat or be eaten. It’ll happen either way. Maybe here, he will like the taste.

full throttle by calenmirel | 3,397 words | E

Later, Max will turn to him, meeting his gaze head on, and ask if George truly hadn’t seen him in his mirrors at turn eight, like George had claimed. He'll rub his hands on his racesuit as he says it, like he'll be rid of the phantom feeling of George's hair from between his fingers if he wipes them hard enough. George will look back at him, licking the taste of Max from the back of his teeth like he can savour it, and will reply, “of course I didn’t,” lying through his smile.

alexander albon / george russell

a feeling all brand new by ginnydear | 16,481 words | M

Alex is halfway through his sandwich when he starts to feel talkative, so he takes a sip of his tea and waits for Logan to finish chewing before he says what’s running through his mind at full speed. “I think I’m homophobic.”

nothing but teeth by crescenteluce | 25,057 words | E

“Oh, come on.” Alex says, poking George in the thigh again with his foot. “Don’t tell me you’ve never done a little-” Alex makes a complicated hand-wavy gesture that has the contents of his glass nearly sloshing over the sides. “At your fancy boy schools, a little stiff upper-lipped make-out amongst the chaps? In between rounds of cricket and fox hunting?”

carlos sainz jr / max verstappen

ease the madness by magnificentbirb | 12,231 words | M

Max signed away his soul on his sixteenth birthday.

pierre gasly / charles leclerc

a long time (maybe forever) by strongestavenger | 10,021 words | T

AITA: homophobic but only to my roommate/best friend? First of all, I swear I have never been a discriminatory person – I have lots of gay friends and my little brother is bisexual. I know that sounds stupid as hell but it’s my only defense right now. My problem is that I (Marc, 26M, straight) have a roommate (Jacques, 28M, gay), who has also been my best friend since we were kids, and I think I’ve started to feel homophobic towards him? (or: Charles needs some outside help to figure things out.)

miscellaneous / general / multi

One thousand laps of jeddah by in_in_in_in_in_in_in | 68,585 words | Gen

George feels sick for the whole ride to the track. He has no idea how he got from breakfast to the car, let alone how he shook off Alex. He knows that he said ‘for god’s sake, Alex, I’m not on drugs’ about a hundred times, even though he’s not at all sure that it’s the truth. What else could have happened to him? Did he dream the race last night?

eat them alive by linearity | 57,000 words | E

Oscar lost Lando a championship and left McLaren. There was still a year in between.

the condominium community committee by jusst_you_wait | 36,452 words | T

the condominium community - 2:36pm Oscar and Logan have been added to the chat George Hello, welcome to a group chat we have for the Formula apartment building! There are only 18 (20 now) of us so we like to keep in contact about the building maintenance and other neighbourly orders of business. I’m George, and I liaise with the building manager on behalf of all of us when there is a building specific issue rather than an apartment issue. Welcome to the building! Lando do u copy and paste that from ur notes every time Alex I bet he has it memorised ~ or, the ridiculous chat fic where the f1 grid all live in the same apartment building

temperature get to you by minieggs11 | 9,339 words | E

It’s Logan’s last ride of the night, it’s clearly two drunk tourists going back to their hotel. As long as they give him a five star rating, he doesn’t care what happens.

sugar and spice by pipitass | 10,785 words | E

“Do you know already? Who you’ll pick?” Oscar frowns. Eyes still closed, scrunched now. Sharp brows downturned, meeting in the middle of his face. “When you win.” The frown deepens for a second. Then his face releases, and he shrugs. Shuffles as he goes to lay down, kicking his shoes off before he brings them up so his toes are poking at Max’s thigh, settling in. “Someone nice.”

triple header by 140445 | 7,890 words | E

Because Oscar isn’t here with Charles. And he’s not here with Max. He doesn’t get it, this thing between Max and Charles. They look like they’re here together, share glances that make Oscar feel like an intruder—but Max brought Oscar back to the booth to sit with them. For Charles to flirt with him. As if it’s some kind of game, where Max brings back prey for Charles to take.

somebody else by piastrism | 31,252 words | E

Oscar misses the color lilac — the color of the twilight sky behind Charles as they drank wine on Sedici, and the long-faded color left behind on his hips by Max’s fingertips.

we'll take the shadows (since the limelight isn't ours) by magnificentbirb | 2,177 words | T

Lando hears the screech of tires on asphalt behind him, the distant crunch of carbon fiber colliding with a wall. He glimpses only the aftermath of the carnage—the dust and smoke, the flashing lights, the unmistakable gleam of bright red—and then he’s clear. And that’s when the seconds slow down.

possessed by light by Anonymous | 6,885 words | Gen

It is a lesson you learn alone. Or that you are supposed to learn alone. At some point you will look at yourself in the mirror and see not just flesh and blood. You will see the capabilities beyond that. You will see your body as a ladder to forever ascend, to always want more. You will see just what you’re made of—and you will realise it has to be used. You will learn not to waste it. Charles did not learn that on his own.

#f1 rpf #fic rec #f1 fic rec #lestappen #charlos #carcar #gax #1633 #charles leclerc x max verstappen #charles leclerc x carlos sainz #carlos sainz x oscar piastri #george russell x max verstappen #5581 #3363 #i do not know how to tag everything uhhhh #thank u fic writers for my life #need to go through my own list bc i'm behind on leaving comments and bookmarks

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wish-i-were-heather · 5 months ago

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A FOOL FOR YOU PT 5⤵ GRAYSON HAWTHORNE X READER

ABOUT: 2610 words, no use of y/n (part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4)

STORY: after so long avoiding it, you and grayson finally talk about what happened and figure out what it all means

WARNINGS: none!!

TAGS: @littlemissmentallyunstable @gretag13 @lanterns-and-daydreams @whatsamongus @alwaysthefangirl @zuzanna-jadw1ga @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @low-caloriesmonsterultra @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @jimcarreyfann42 @maybxlle @xoxo-vee @elysianwayy77 @ravishinglyliving - lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist!

A/N: this took wayyyy longer than i meant it to, sorry about that. i hope you guys liked this series because it was so fun to write!! (i dont plan to continue it but who knows...)

When you woke up, you could feel the cool morning breeze making its way into your room. The birds were chirping outside, and the sun was just at the right level to where it would hit your eyes and make it hard for you to open them all the way.

Your bed felt warmer for some reason this morning- the blanket heavier, the mattress firmer, the pillow softer. You weren’t complaining, no, it was actually a… nice change. A change from your normal routine, no matter how much you relied on it. Maybe it wasn’t really different and you were just still half asleep, or-

Wait.

You never slept with your window open.

You shouldn’t have been able to feel the breeze. Or hear the birds. Or have that much sunlight peeking through. It wasn’t that things just felt different this morning, but this wasn’t your room.

When your eyes snapped open, they widened at the realization of who was beside you, the realization of whose arm was resting lazily across your stomach.

Grayson Davenport Hawthorne.

Your breath caught when you saw him. Thankfully the man had put on a shirt, but he looked so unlike himself while he was asleep.

Grayson’s usually perfectly styled hair was tousled, some light strands falling onto his forehead. His breathing was slow, steady, gentle, and you could see the rise and fall of his chest with each breath. His lips were slightly parted, making a barely audible hum with each exhale. He looked younger, more boyish in this moment of relaxation.

It was a different look on him, but not necessarily a bad one.

He stirred slightly, and you were completely frozen, only watching as he rolled over from his back to his stomach, closer to you. You had no idea what had possessed you to get into a bed with Grayson Hawthorne last night, but you were now suffering the consequences.

You tried gently to push his arm away, but Grayson was surprisingly strong in his sleep and wouldn’t let go. In fact, it only seemed to wrap around you tighter.

He was killing you right now.

The worst part was, your mind was blanking as to how you got there. You knew that neither of you had anything to drink, so it wasn’t that. You also would’ve been able to feel it if you were hungover.

It was probably the mind fog from having just woken up, but you still didn’t like not remembering.

Pushing his arm off you only proved to be futile yet again. Just as you were about to get desperate and resort to calling his name, Grayson awoke.

Well, saying he was awake was an overstatement. Grayson let out a groan and his arm tightened around you further, like he didn’t realize it was you he was holding onto. He kicked his legs out, taking up a surprisingly large amount of the bed, almost tangled up with you.

“Hmm,” he muttered, slowly opening his eyes. “I… what the-”

Grayson’s eyes widened like yours when he saw you next to him and saw where his hand was placed. He immediately retracted the arm and as awkward as you’d found it, part of you missed its warmth.

He cleared his throat and spoke again. “Good morning. You’re awake.”

“Uh, yeah,” you confirmed. “Why am I-”

“In my bed?” Grayson interrupted. “After the pool last night, we came back up here and talked for a bit. You fell asleep and I didn’t want to wake you, so I figured I’d let you stay.”

Oh.

Phew.

“You should've just woken me up and I could’ve gone to my room, it’s not that big of a deal,” you told him.

“You’re a peaceful sleeper. I didn’t wish to get in the way of that.”

Did he really have you blushing this early in the morning?

“Oh, thank you,” was the only response you could manage.

Grayson sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. Everything about him looking younger and peaceful as he slept had gone away, and he was now back to his sharp eyes staring at you intensely. The eyes you could never read, the eyes that he always managed to hide so much behind.

You forced yourself to sit up too, and- oh my god you were wearing his shirt.

You hadn’t even known that Grayson owned anything besides the countless suits he always wore. And those sweatpants, apparently, from when he was drunk the other night.

But here you were, wearing your shorts from the night before but your hoodie replaced by a soft white shirt that was far too big for you. You realized you were still wearing your swimsuit under it, but it had dried by now.

A small noise came from his nose, just a little too loudly for it to be a normal exhale.

“What,” you groaned, sheepishly looking up to meet his eyes. “Do I really look that pathetic that I managed to make Grayson Hawthorne laugh at me?”

His corners of his mouth twitched upwards. “You don’t look pathetic. It’s just your face, you look…” he cut himself off and paused to find the right adjective. You could tell what he’d been about to say.

Please don’t say cute. For the love of all things sane, please don’t call me cute.

“Amusing.”

Somehow, that was worse.

You sighed and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The night before was starting to come back to you:

After the kiss, the two of you had stayed out there and talked for a good while. You got out of the pool, put your regular clothes back on over your swimsuit. Then Grayson offered to go up to his room. You accepted the offer, and when you got up there he’d offered you one of his shirts because your hoodie had gotten wet. He then put on a shirt himself, and you simply sat on his bed and talked.

And apparently you’d fallen asleep in the same bed.

Grayson cleared his throat. “You’re thinking.”

“Yes I am.” You didn’t even bother being surprised that he could read you so easily because of course he could.

“Is it selfish of me to guess that you’re thinking about last night?”

“I don’t know about selfish, but it certainly wouldn’t be incorrect.”

A beat of silence.

You felt out of place there, sitting on the bed next to him, probably looking like a mess. But the way he looked at you during that silence proved that he wasn’t necessarily upset about your unbrushed hair or half-awake eyes or the way the sleeves of his shirt on you nearly went down to your forearms.

“I meant everything I said,” he finally spoke. “I hope you know that.”

Oh, now he was willing to bring up the elephant in the room? Last time it had taken him a week. Though you supposed it was harder to avoid when you’d both woken up in his bed.

“Even when you were drunk?” You asked.

His voice was surprisingly soft. “Even when I was drunk.”

Another silence. There seemed to be a lot of them that morning. And in that silence, you let the reality of what had happened settle in:

You kissed Grayson Hawthorne last night.

Twice.

And all either of you had to say about it was some awkward banter.

But you didn’t know what else to say. What was a kiss to someone like Grayson? Was it just a meaningless action to him? Could he just kiss someone and forget? Or was it the opposite, you’d kissed and now there was no moving on? You assumed- you hoped for the latter, and knowing him it was most likely, but you couldn’t be sure.

He was Grayson Hawthorne, after all. Who knew how many girls wanted to kiss him. Not that he ever let them, but you wouldn’t think it strange of him to find a kiss to be worth nothing.

So you figured you just had to ask.

“What are we, Grayson?”

To your surprise, he smiled softly.

“That depends,” he told you. “What would you like us to be?”

Avery had sent you a voicemail at eleven the night before. She’d also texted you countless times ever since then, well into the morning.

By the time you left Grayson’s room, it was nine.

Your hoodie hadn’t dried overnight, so he’d let you keep his shirt. You’d tied it up to try to make it fit at least a little, but it was still far too large. And it smelled like him- that didn’t help.

You pressed play on Avery’s voicemail.

“Hello? Are you- oh, it’s a voicemail. Okay, uh, well, call me back when you can. You said you’d let me know what happens with you and Grayson. I mean since you haven’t come back yet I can assume it went well? I hope so, maybe since it’s late you guys-” She paused. “Nevermind, I don’t want to think about what you’re doing. Call me. Bye.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. What on earth did she think you were doing? But you couldn’t blame her, because you’d initially had the same thought when you woke up next to him that morning.

Avery answered your call back almost immediately.

“Hello?” Her voice said through the phone.

“Hey, I’m alive.”

There was a high noise from the other end, but you couldn’t quite make it out.

“Finally! I thought you drowned in the pool or something. You wanna tell what happened? It’s been, like, twelve hours.”

Damn, she was right. You’d gone to the pool at eight last night, and it was now nine in the morning. You spent most of those hours alone with Grayson, your mind decided to remind you. You had to push the thought out of your head.

“Yeah, I’ll tell you,” you said. “In person, though. Where are you?”

“We’re in the back, by the pool. Thought it would be funny to wait for you here.”

You frowned. “Who is we-”

“Max,” she explained. There was another sound from beside her. “She says to get the fox over here, beach.”

Talking to Max and Avery didn’t prove to be productive, but it had been fun. Long story short, Max thought the idea of drunk Grayson was hilarious and Avery fully thought you were joking when you told her you’d kissed.

That only offended you a little.

But the talk by the pool didn’t last too long. Eventually, you made your way back inside. You just wanted to be alone with your thoughts for longer. You still didn’t completely know how you felt about the whole situation, despite discussing it with your two closest friends.

You realized it was almost ten o’clock and you still hadn’t had breakfast, so you went to the kitchen. As you got there, you couldn’t help but think back to when Grayson had come in, hungover yet looking completely put-together. When he’d reached into the refrigerator and grabbed cherries for some reason.

You laughed quietly at the memory.

“What’s so funny, hm?”

Your head snapped back and you were met once again with Grayson Hawthorne. And once again he was in a suit, his hair fixed, looking perfect.

He had a talent for putting himself together.

“Nothing,” you replied. “I’m just thinking.”

Grayson walked over to you and nodded. “You do that a lot.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a lot to think about.”

“Care to share?”

Having a conversation with Grayson Davenport Hawthorne was always difficult. Not because of the way he spoke, no, but rather because of the way he looked.

How were you supposed to focus with those silver-gray eyes looking down at you, with the way the corners wrinkled with each poorly hidden smile? How were you supposed to stand up straight when every time his fingers even brushed your skin you melted into his touch?

How were you supposed to exist when he did too?

Oh, right, he asked a question.

“I’m thinking about what you said,” you told him honestly. There was no point in trying to hide your feelings from him now.

“And remind me,” he said, moving even closer. “What did I say?”

“That you meant everything you said, even when you were drunk.”

He nodded along, but he was clearly focused more on you rather than what you were saying.

“You said you wanted my face.” You said slowly. “I know you were drunk and it was just a stupid comment, but-”

He stopped with a finger to your mouth. “We went over this the morning after, no?” Grayson’s hand moved from covering your mouth to cup your face again and it took everything you had not to lean further into it. “I would be honored to have your face.”

Even if the words were stupid, the meaning behind them was so much stronger.

When he leaned in to whisper in your ear you nearly fainted.

“May I?”

You didn’t answer, but you let your arms wrap themselves around his hips as he leaned down to meet your lips with his and-

“Jeez you guys, get a room!” Grayson stood up straight at the new voice, but your hands stayed on each other. “This is like the third time this week I’ve walked in on you two kissing out in the open. Other people live here you kno-”

Xander, who had entered the kitchen and complained about your affection, completely froze when he saw you.

“You’re not Avery.” He then pointed to his brother. “You’re not Jameson.”

Grayson cleared his throat. “Xander-”

Xander gasped. “Wait, are you two, like, a thing? Like, dating? Like, kissy kissy cuddle cuddle muah muah?”

“Xander-”

“Oh my… I knew it! I mean, I didn’t want to make any assumptions, but the two of you have been acting pretty weird for a bit now and I thought-”

“Xander-”

“-hold on. Nash owes me so much money now.”

“Xander-”

“What Gray? Of course we have a bet going. I guess my optimism is finally paying off! I was right, you are getting together! This is the best news of my life-”

“Alexander.”

Xander finally stopped rambling and looked at his brother. Grayson was absolutely glaring at him, the kind of look that spoke volumes. And coming from him, it was even louder.

“Damn,” Xander said, shaking his head. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were such a party pooper. Actually, who am I kidding, I’ve known that forever.” He shrugged. “Just… keep kissing or whatever. Good job. Er, uh, I mean-”

“Just go away, Xander.”

“Yes sir. I’m gone.”

Once the footsteps were too far to be heard, Grayson let out a sigh of relief.

You burst out laughing. Grayson only stared at you with a blank expression, like he was waiting for you to stop, which only made you laugh harder.

When you’d finally caught your breath, he let his hand find your face again, this time tangling itself in your hair. “My brother seems to think we’re dating.”

You didn’t try to hide the blush that covered your entire face. “And how do you feel about that, Grayson?”

He shrugged. “I wouldn’t be upset if his assumption turned out to be true.”

Silence somehow fell upon the two of you again, but this time it was different. Not unsure, not nervous, not awkward. This time, it was a comfortable silence. A silence in which you looked into his eyes. A silence in which you could finally read one of the emotions hiding behind them:

Love.

“Grayson?”

“Yes?”

“I think I figured out what I want us to be.”

#grayson hawthorne #grayson davenport hawthorne #grayson hawthorne x reader #grayson x reader #the inheritance games #the grandest game #the hawthorne legacy #the brothers hawthorne #tig #tig fanfic #tgg #mightier than your sword𓂃🖋

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