#she's filled with doubts and he's there for her

[illyrianbitch]

Are We Still Friends?

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: Worried about how his new relationship seems to be changing him, you talk to Azriel about your concerns. Things take a turn when he refuses to listen.

Warnings: some wine sipping, gossiping, angst, miscommunication, friend fighting, jealousy (but no one realizes), az being defensive and blind

Word Count: 5k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

“It’s not that I don’t like her.”

The words tasted as false as they were, and you grimaced the moment they slipped out, already bracing for the look Mor would throw your way. True to form, she didn’t disappoint, her expression halfway between amusement and exasperation.

A defeated sigh escaped as you accepted the glass of wine she offered, watching as she filled her own nearly to the brim.

“You’re better than me, then,” she hummed, settling back onto the couch across from you. “Because I don’t like her.”

You raised a brow. “You don’t like many people nowadays.”

She shrugged, casual as ever, though a smirk tugged at her lips. “True. I’m not exactly lining up for any peace medals, am I?”

You chuckled softly, leaning back in your chair. “I just… have this odd feeling about her, you know?”

Mor tilted her head, letting out a noncommittal hum. “Oh, I know. She drags Az around on a leash.”

You were tempted to say something about the irony in her words—remind her, in a loving manner, that she might've been guilty of that once upon a time, too. But you decided against it. She wasn't wrong.

You swirled the wine in your glass, watching the dark liquid move in slow, mesmerizing circles. The feeling wasn’t new; it had been there since the first time you’d met her. Azriel’s new girlfriend Selene was perfectly fine—charming, even. But there was something else, something you couldn’t quite name. Like a faint hum in the background of a quiet room, just irritating enough to notice but not enough to prove anything was wrong.

“Why don’t you talk to him?”

You glanced up, finding Mor’s bright brown eyes sharp and focused on you, the lazy humor of a moment ago gone.

“I doubt he’ll listen,” you admitted, resting the bottom of your glass on your thigh. “He didn’t listen to you.”

“That’s different.”

“It’s really not.”

Mor raised a brow like she wanted to argue, but she only sighed in response. “He’s been so weird about his love life. Gwyn didn’t work out. Elain’s probably the happiest out of all of us. Maybe he’s treading lightly.”

“Maybe,” you murmured, though you weren’t convinced.

Azriel had changed in small, almost imperceptible ways since everything had settled—since everyone had paired off and fallen in love. Everyone except you. And him.

You were fine with your situation, content in the quiet steadiness of your life. Azriel wasn’t. You knew it. He knew it, though he’d never admit it. So much of his self-worth was tangled up in whether he believed himself worthy of love. And the absence of it—of a solid, undeniable love in his life, of a partner, of a potential bond—seemed to weigh on him. To him, it wasn’t just an empty space; it was a failure.

You’d almost go as far as to say he’d become desperate, living in the shadows and watching his brothers experience loves so profound they might as well have been plucked from stories meant to inspire poets and dreamers.

Mating bonds were rare. You reminded yourself of that often. Your family was just an anomaly, their luck skewed impossibly high. But logic wasn’t enough to soothe Azriel, and it certainly wouldn’t stop him from chasing it. He was obsessive. Stubborn.

Nothing you said or did could change his perspective.

Mor’s voice pulled you out of your head again. “Speak of the devil,” she sang out. “Hi, Elain.”

Your gaze snapped up to the doorway, finding Elain standing just beyond the archway. She looked like a spooked deer, frozen in place with that polite smile you’d come to recognize as her default around company she hadn’t fully warmed up to yet.

“We were just talking about Azriel’s unfortunate romantic history,” Mor said smoothly. You glanced at Elain for her reaction.

It had taken time for that particular history to fade. Maybe it was appropriate to joke about now, but you personally would’ve waited a few more years before bringing it up so flippantly. Mor, however, had little patience for such niceties.

Elain’s expression didn’t shift beyond a faint flicker in her eyes, and you realized how much her composure had improved over the years. Then again, it had been a while since she and Lucien had found each other for good—long enough for their bond to solidify and for them to leave for the Day Court after their mating ceremony.

A twinge of jealousy sparked in you before you brushed it aside.

“We’re just gossiping in general. Want to join us?” you asked, gesturing to the chair beside you. Plush and inviting, it mirrored the one you sat on. “Unless Lucien is waiting for you upstairs?”

Elain’s cheeks flushed crimson. 

“Lucien’s still with Feyre, catching up,” she said, stepping further into the room. “What are you drinking?”

Mor reached for the bottle on the table, plucking it up and turning it in her hand to read the label.

“Something good and expensive,” she replied, with a half-hearted air of indulgence, before tilting her head at Elain with a faint grin.

“It’s from Rhys’s rather gluttonous collection,” you said, sensing Elain’s hesitation. “It won’t be missed at all.”

She smiled at that. “I’d love some.”

“There are a lot of glasses in that cabinet,” you said, pointing to the wood door with ornate carvings. “Grab whichever one you’d like.”

Mor sat up straighter, scooting herself back into the pillows behind her. You hummed, impressed, at her ability to hold both her full wine glass and the bottle without so much as a wobble.

You hadn’t spent much time with Elain one-on-one. Emissary duties had kept you busy during the years the Archeron sisters had adjusted to their new lives. But you liked Elain, from what you’d seen. She had a kind heart. She also had a sharp humor that surfaced at the oddest moments, usually when she and Lucien were whispering in corners, conspiratorial before seamlessly rejoining whatever social event they were at like they’d never left.

Elain returned and sat down with her chosen glass—a delicate crystal piece that gleamed in the soft light. Mor went to fill it instantly. 

“Can I ask why you were discussing Azriel’s romantic life?” Elain asked. Her voice was smooth, certain. No hesitation.

It didn’t faze her anymore, you realized—being such a strange, pivotal turning point in Azriel’s past experiences. She’d made peace with it, the way immortality seemed to demand. Time softened the edges of even the messiest situations, turning them into stories you could recount with startling detachment. Almost humorous, really.

Because how else could you explain being casual about the fact that your best friend had almost allowed his pride—and arrogance—and, somehow simultaneously, his insecurity—to lead him into a blood duel over Elain’s affections? A blood duel.

But now, it was just… something to write off. A distant memory, softened by the years and Lucien’s easy confidence. Lucien was better than you. You would’ve held that grudge against Azriel for many more years—long enough to make it a point of pride. But then again, Lucien had won everything he wanted in the end. He had the girl, the bond, the certainty that whatever lingering rivalry Azriel might feel was entirely one-sided.

It wasn’t important enough for Lucien to waste any more energy on.

You exchanged a glance with Mor, who arched a brow, clearly just as amused by Elain’s openness.

“Y/n doesn’t like his new girlfriend,” Mor said.

Your mouth fell open. “You don’t either.”

“True,” Mor agreed easily. She looked to Elain. “We don’t like her.”

“For clarification,” you said firmly, “I never said I didn’t like her.”

Mor laughed, sipping her wine with an amused grin.

Your face fell flat. “What?”

“Nothing,” she replied breezily. “But if you get a bad feeling about someone, that’s usually dislike.”

You resisted the urge to scowl, already turning over the guilt in your mind. You didn’t want to be that person—the kind who dismissed another female off the bat. Maybe your gut was wrong this time. Maybe her smile had reached her eyes, and you’d been too preoccupied to notice. Maybe her tone hadn’t been as assessing as you remembered, and you were projecting. You wanted to like her. You wanted to be happy for Azriel.

But he didn’t seem happy. He seemed distracted. Busy. Not himself.

And not the kind of busy you’d seen before—the methodical, obsessive focus he funneled into work or training. This was different, scattered in a way you couldn’t quite pin down. It had made sense in the beginning, when things were new and exciting, but now it was starting to feel uncomfortable. He’d started missing things—small things at first, like sparring sessions or those late-night conversations you, Mor, and him would have when you couldn’t sleep. Then came the bigger things. He’d stopped being able to review external court updates with you, even when those meetings were critical for your diplomatic roles.

Azriel had always been the one you could count on. Out of everyone, you considered him your closest friend—even more than Mor, though you’d never admit it out loud. But now it seemed like every time you made plans, Selene needed him more.

And then there was how fast it was all moving. Too fast. At a recent family dinner, she’d casually mentioned that she and Azriel could move in together—offhand, like it was the most obvious next step. Something about leaving the townhouse behind, creating a space with décor that matched her aesthetic. Azriel had just stayed quiet, looked at her like she’d just proposed the most brilliant idea in existence.

You noticed he did that. The way he looked at her. The way he’d looked at Elain and Gwyn back when they were seeing each other. It weirded you out—that tendency to put the people he saw as romantic interests on a pedestal, as though they were flawless. As though they were something he didn’t deserve.

You knew where it came from. That deep-rooted insecurity that even centuries hadn’t managed to erase. He didn’t see it, the way he wore himself down trying to prove his worth to people who, for the most part, had already accepted him. But you saw it. You always had.

And it made it harder to like Selene. To trust her intentions. Maybe that was unfair, but you couldn’t help but feel like she was just taking—taking all the parts of Azriel that used to be all of yours to share, and twisting them into something else. Something that didn’t include his family.

Still, you wanted to try. To let go of the gnawing irritation in your chest and convince yourself it didn’t matter. If she made him happy—truly happy—then none of it should matter. You were adamant on ensuring that you didn’t turn into the stereotypical overbearing female best friend.

Elain tapped her glass lightly. “Lucien doesn’t like her.”

You blinked back into reality. “Really?”

She nodded, a beat passing before she added, “To be honest, I’m not sure I do either.”

Mor leaned forward, grinning like she’d been handed a stack of gold. You almost wished Amren was here to bask in the moment. Amren didn’t like Azriel’s girlfriend, either. Maybe your family really was as unwelcoming as people claimed. Or maybe Selene simply brought out another level of scrutiny. The thought of either option made you feel bad— gross. 

“Why?” Mor asked.

“She was dismissive toward Lucien. And,” Elain hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly, “She seemed… entitled, I suppose. Especially with Azriel. Like she expected him to accommodate her every whim.”

You frowned, turning over her words. “I’m sure she was just nervous. We can be an intimidating group. Maybe she just needs time to settle in. We just want Az to be happy, right? So, if she makes him happy, then I’m absolutely fine with her.”

The silence that followed was thick. For a moment, you wondered if you’d said something wrong. Something weird.

“Are you?” Elain asked, her tone sincere.

“Are you?” Mor echoed at the same time, voice dripping with sarcasm.

You shot Mor a glare, but she only raised her brows and sipped her wine again, infuriatingly unbothered. Exhaling, you willed yourself to meet Elain’s gaze.

“I am,” you said, trying for conviction. “Really.”

Elain pursed her lips. Her gaze shifted to Mor, lingering longer than you liked, and then back to you.

“Alright,” she hummed. “I guess I was wrong.”

You stilled. Elain reclined deeper into her seat, accepting a refill from Mor. Her wine glass remained only half-full compared to yours and Mor’s.

Curiosity burned. You leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

Elain furrowed her brows. “What do I mean about what?”

“You said you guess you were wrong. What does that mean?”

Mor’s gaze bored into the side of your face. Any second now, you were sure she’d make some quip about how bothered you were. But you weren’t bothered. Just curious.

Elain swirled her wine, watching the light catch the liquid. “I’m not sure. Things feel off. Like something’s coming. Az needs help with it, I think.”

You froze. “Off? Like—how?”

She hesitated, thoughtful. “It’s hard to explain,” she murmured, her voice quieter now. “But I feel it. In my chest. My visions sometimes do that. That’s why I asked.”

Well, that unsettled you. You glanced at Mor, whose amused grin had fallen into something more contemplative.

It seemed you might need to have a conversation with Azriel after all.

“I don’t like that,” you admitted, your nose crinkling. 

“I think I heard him get back earlier. Go talk to him,” Mor said, her tone gentler now, though a hint of mischief lingered in her eyes. You didn’t read too much into that. Mor’s eyes tended to be expressive. She also tended to be mischievous when her blood was primarily red wine. 

“Okay,” you said. “Maybe just to check in.”

Elain nodded. “Just to check in,” she echoed, almost reassuring.

“Have fun,” Mor added, her grin returning just enough to be annoying, but not enough to distract you from the unease curling in your chest.

You didn’t respond, instead taking another slow sip of your drink. The glass clinked softly as you set it down on the table before you made your way upstairs.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Mor turned to Elain. “Did you really feel something that unsettling?”

Elain let out a laugh. “No,” she said lightly. “I completely made that up. But she doesn’t need to know that.”

Mor’s lips curled into a slow, wicked smile. Seconds later, her head tilted back in a laugh just as vibrant as it was unapologetic.

“Genius,” she declared, raising her glass in mock salute.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

The walk upstairs was quiet.

The townhome, in general, was quieter nowadays. Aside from the times others came to visit—like Lucien and Elain—only you and Azriel lived here full time.

When you reached Azriel’s bedroom door, your steps faltered for a moment. There was a hesitation in you that hadn't existed before. You raised your hand to knock, but the action felt more awkward than usual. It made you sad, momentarily, that you hesitated. You never second-guessed yourself with Azriel. You wanted to tread carefully in this new era of his life, though. You didn’t want to overstep, to become a nuisance. But whatever this was—whatever had unsettled Elain enough to mention it—you needed to know. Azriel had always been a constant for you, and if something felt “off,” you wanted to understand why.

Your knuckles rapped lightly on the door. “Az?” 

Inside, you heard the shuffle of movement, followed by his low, familiar voice. “Come in.”

You didn’t see Azriel immediately, but the smell of soap and the damp air told you that he recently showered. Shadows slithered across the floor, comfortable and excited, exploring the familiar confines of his room.

You greeted the tendrils as you usually did, letting them brush against your legs as you flopped onto his bed. The bed, like everything else in his room, was simple: plain black sheets, no extravagant pillows, just the bare necessities. It used to drive you mad, the emptiness of it all.  But what was in his room spoke volumes—— bare walls except for a dagger mount on one side, a small uncluttered desk with a well-worn sharpening stone. 

Azriel exiting the bathroom pulled your attention, your eyes settling on him as he rubbed his wet hair thoroughly with a towel. He shook his head slightly, wet curls bouncing onto his forehead, and met your gaze. His eyes flicked to where you lay, scanning your body. He nodded toward your feet.

“C’mon,” he almost whined. “No shoes on the bed.”

You looked down at yourself, grimacing as you realized that your shoes were, indeed, on his clean comforter. A simple set of house slippers, so nothing entirely too dirty, but it had completely slipped your mind. Very comfortable shoes, you noted, maybe you’d get Feyre a pair as a solstice gift.

“Oh whoops,” you said with an apologetic smile. “My bad, clean freak.”

He rolled his eyes, but you caught the quirk of his lips anyways.

For a moment, the old sense of comfort settled over you. But then, a thought crept in—the thought that maybe you shouldn’t lie on his bed like this anymore. It had been fine before, but now… now it felt different. He had someone else in his life. It wasn’t weird, exactly, but it was a little inappropriate.

You sat up straighter.

“Did you and Mor grow tired of rehashing the same centuries old gossip?” He teased.

You snorted, watching as his shadows flitted above his shoulders. They were amused, laughing in their own way. “Never,” you responded, pushing yourself off his bed. You were drawn to the otherside of his room, to the simple dresser against the wall. “Elain joined us this time.”

Your back was to him, but you had a feeling that the momentary silence, the stillness that you felt, was a knee-jerk reaction from Azriel—something reminiscent of embarrassment, shame, or guilt at her name. But all he responded was, “Oh?”

“I like her,” you said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I kinda wish I spent more time with her…”

You paused, your words trailing off quietly as you took in the small details before you. 

Azriel’s dresser had always been the one surface he decorated, not because he cared for decoration, but because it was the only surface large enough to hold anything. Over the years, it had become a quiet testament to the things that mattered to him: a mix of Solstice and birthday gifts, trinkets you’d both collected on missions and trips. You liked seeing what had changed, what had been added. It gave you a glimpse into where Azriel had been, who had been with him. 

Lately, there had been more—more trinkets, more oddities that stood in stark contrast to the weapons displayed elsewhere, the ones mostly hidden away in his closet. A macaroni necklace from Nyx. A horribly made clay version of him you’d created during a drunken pottery night with Feyre, Mor, and Amren.

But now, the dresser was foreign. The once familiar surface had been wiped clean, replaced by delicate perfume bottles, jewelry that looked too fine to be his, and a candle that smelled—oddly—like the puke of a flower faerie. Some of it was new. Most of it was hers.

Azriel’s presence had vanished from his own furniture entirely.

“Huh.”

“What?” Azriel asked.

You glanced over your shoulder. “I see you’ve decorated more.”

Azriel tilted his head, and a few of his shadows slithered down his body, crossing the room to pool around your ankles. “I guess,” he said. “Selene said my room needed more life.”

You leaned forward, brushing your fingers along the ceramic jewelry dish, the cool surface sending a strange chill through your skin. The shadows flickered over your hand, almost as if they were inspecting it too. They moved with purpose, then slowly obscured it, hiding it from view.

You frowned, confused.

Azriel, still silent, was rifling through his closet. You could feel the weight of his eyes on you as he moved, but he said nothing. The shadows returned to his side as you turned to look at him.

"Are you going somewhere?" you asked, trying to break the silence.

Now, Azriel barely spared you a glance.

“Yeah. Meeting Selene,” he replied simply.

After a few seconds of silence, Azriel turned his head and properly held your gaze. “Why? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you responded with a casual wave of your hand, but Elain’s words echoed in your mind. You cleared your throat. “Well, actually, no. I was hoping I could talk to you.”

He frowned, standing up straighter, his wings flexing with the motion. “Is it something serious?”

You paused, carefully filtering through your words. “No, just something that’s been on my mind.”

Azriel studied you, doubt flickering in his hazel eyes. It was the kind of look that always made you feel like he was reading you too easily. He probably didn’t believe you, not entirely—but he nodded anyway. His lips curved into a small, apologetic smile. “Raincheck then?”

You mirrored his smile, though it felt thin. “Yeah, sure. We can talk tomorrow, once we’re back from the Hewn City.”

Azriel stilled. The way his gaze dropped to the floor and lingered felt like a guilty dog, an animal caught in an act forbidden. “Shit,” he said, his tone cautious. “I can’t go.”

You blinked, the words taking a moment to settle. “Seriously? Az, Rhys is expecting an update.”

“I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere enough. It didn’t matter. “But you can handle it on your own, you know this.” 

“Are you serious?” you said, the hurt slipping out before you could stop it. “I don’t want to deal with Keir alone.”

Azriel sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll talk to Rhys, but Selene’s been wanting to—”

“Never mind,” you cut him off, shaking your head. You forced a smile. “Have fun tonight. And tomorrow.”

Azriel scanned your face. After another moment of silence, he sighed.

“Okay, what is it?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “You clearly have something on your mind. Tell me.”

You hesitated, holding his gaze. “I actually wanted to talk to you about Selene.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened instantly. He looked away, his tongue running across his teeth as he shook his head. “Not you too. Don’t be like this.”

Your frown deepened, offended by the immediate shift in tone. “Be like what? I haven’t even said anything yet.”

He met your eyes again, his stare almost challenging. “We both know what you’re going to say.”

“Do we?”

“First Mor, then Nesta, and now you.” His voice was sharp, but not loud. “Should I be concerned that the females in my life are so quick to rally against my girlfriend?”

You scoffed, crossing your arms to mirror his pose. “Well, yeah, Az. Maybe you should be.”

He rolled his eyes, the shadows at his feet flickering with the motion. “Fine. What do you want to tell me, then?”

For a moment, you hesitated, the words lingering on the edge of your tongue. Azriel had always been good at looking through you, unraveling thoughts you hadn’t fully formed yet. And now, under the weight of his sharp gaze, you felt exposed.

“I just want to make sure you’re happy.”

Something flickered in his expression, quick and fleeting—too fast for you to decipher. For the first time in a long while, Azriel felt unreadable, like he’d drawn a curtain between himself and you. “Really?” he asked, his tone tight, almost incredulous.

You faltered, a small thread of doubt weaving its way through your resolve. Was he happy? Would he even tell you if he wasn’t?

“Yes, really,” you replied, a defensive edge creeping into your voice. “You’ve been distant lately. Running around at her beck and call. None of us know her. I want to understand what’s going on with you. I want to understand her.”

Azriel’s wings shifted again, his gaze hardening.

“I want to make sure this is the kind of relationship you want,” you finished, quieter now.

The room fell into silence, heavy and still. Azriel watched you as if he was turning your words over and over in his mind. You waited, unsure of what to expect—if anything at all.

“I wouldn’t be in a relationship I didn’t want. Can we drop it, please.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. What a strange, dismissive answer. It bothered you— bothered you more than anything he’d ever told you before. 

“Az, I just don’t want you to change who you are for someone. You don’t need to cater to her every whim.”

His expression darkened, shadows curling tighter around his boots. “I’m her boyfriend. I do what she asks.”

You raised an eyebrow, unable to stop the scoff that slipped out. Azriel had never been so clipped with you. “That’s not the definition of a boyfriend. That’s the definition of a bitch.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched, his wings flaring in irritation. “Excuse me?”  His voice cut through the room. “Do you really think I’m some incompetent love-sick loser?”

“I think you stop seeing flaws in the people you love.”

The words hung between you, heavier than you’d anticipated. A small part of you wondered if “love” was the word Azriel would use to describe his feelings for her. Another part worried that he didn’t correct you.

“That’s not true.”

“It’s not?”

“No,” he snapped. “I can clearly see that you’re being unfair. Quick to judge, much like Mor. That’s a flaw.”

“Oh, please,” you shot back, “You know what I meant. The people you’re infatuated with—”

“Where is this sudden concern coming from?” he interrupted, his shadows now beginning to curl between you like restless mediators, unsure where to settle. “Are you trying to cause issues?”

Something ran hot through your body.

“Seriously? I’m talking to you about this because I care. Because Elain had some cryptic feeling about you—”

“Elain is involved in this conversation, too?” His voice dripped with frustration now. “Gods, Y/n, should I send word for Gwyn while we’re at it? Get her opinion?”

“What the hell has gotten into you?” You took an authoritative step forward.  “I’ve never judged you. I’ve always tried to support you and your messy love life, no matter how complicated. Don’t you trust me, Azriel? As a friend?”

Azriel didn’t respond immediately, his shadows flickering uncertainly, still deciding whether to retreat or rise.

You gestured around the room. “Look at this place. You’ve erased all traces of your family—of you, of us. Where did you even put—”

“Oh, gods.” Azriel’s voice broke through, and for a moment, you thought he might crumble. His wings folded, and his hand dragged across his face, the weight of his exhaustion sinking in. “She was right.”

You froze. “What?”

Azriel met your gaze, his eyes hesitant for a heartbeat before turning sharp. “About you. Selene said you were jealous. That you had feelings for me.”

The words hit like a slap, and your world tilted on its axis. “What?” you asked again, your voice breaking on the word. Maybe you had misheard him. Maybe he had misspoken.

“I told her she was wrong. But now…” He let the sentence hang in the air, searching your face for something that maybe wasn’t even there.

“Now, what?” Your voice rose, tinged with anger. “You think I’m here because I’m jealous? Because I have some… crush on you?”

His wings flared slightly at your tone, but he didn’t back down. “I don’t know. It’s just—why else would you care so much about this?”

Your stomach twisted, a deep, cold ache settling there. “Why else?” you repeated, the words bitter on your tongue. “Because I care about you, Azriel. Because you’ve been my friend for centuries. Are you seriously confused about this?” 

For a moment, Azriel’s expression faltered, but he didn’t apologize. Instead, he said, “I didn’t ask you to care about my love life.”

“You didn’t have to,” you snapped, stepping closer. “That’s what friends do. But you’re standing there, letting her perception of me—someone who doesn’t even know me—warp your judgment. You’ve known me longer than that. Or at least, I thought you did. And the fact that you’d entertain this—” You stopped, shaking your head. “It’s insulting.”

Azriel said nothing. He just stood there, shadows now curling tighter around him. 

You had no idea how this conversation had gotten away from you, no idea how it turned into this—where this defensiveness, this anger, had come from. This wasn’t Azriel. Loyal, overly so. Impulsive. Protective. 

Or maybe it was. Maybe that loyalty was directed at someone else now—someone who clearly saw you as something threatening. You’d never been on the other side of Azriel before. Never thought you’d see the day. The realization hit like a slap to the face, leaving you shocked, stunned, a pit opening in your stomach that felt too deep to climb out of.

“You know what? Forget it.” You stepped back, the fight draining out of you all at once.

Azriel’s brows furrowed. “Really? That’s it?”

You glanced at him over your shoulder, your lips curving into something that might have been a smile if it weren’t so bitter. “Yeah,” you said, your voice flat. “That’s it.”

You turned for the door, hand on the handle, but paused. The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them, sharp and pointed, a petty jab that felt equal parts satisfying and hollow. “Make sure to lock this door when you leave—I’d hate to accidentally stumble back in and throw myself at you.”

Azriel stiffened, his wings snapping taut behind him. For a brief second, you thought he might say something, anything. But he didn’t.

You closed the door behind you with a heavy thud.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

authors note: no one tell them they probs have feelings for each other bc they’ll probably fight you (also elains moment is so self indulgent bc i would totally be making shit up based off my powers. like yeah actually you can’t be mean to be :/ powers are saying you’ll die if you are)

part two? 😏 lmk if you wanna be tagged

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[earthtooz]

when i was your man | oliver aiku x reader, shidou ryusei x reader

in which: an unlikely candidate comes to replace oliver.

cw: gn!reader who gets fucked over, oliver is an asshole, shidou is WILD and a pathetic loser who wants you badly, toxic relationships, one suggestive line from shidou but who is surprised, description doesn't really capture it all

it was your fault for believing you could change oliver aiku.

when he came blazing into your life with his scruffy appearance, baritone voice, and the smell of leather clinging to him, all of your expectations and assumptions were subverted the moment he flashed you a boyish grin. a budding feeling bloomed in your heart that day, blossoming into something more the more you saw him. 

with every chair he held out for you, every door he opened for you, every coffee date, every conversation that made you felt heard and listened to, every time he asked to see you again, every time he texted you after a date to let you know how much fun he had- it felt like the possibilities were endless with oliver. he had taken your affections and nurtured it into something beautiful, a garden of roses as he tended to each one so delicately. he treated you so delicately. 

so delicately, that you refused to see the first signs of corruption.

your relationship suffered a slow decline, with small things occurring like him no longer planning for dates or booking reservations, telling you to come over instead because he ‘prefers it’ when it’s just the two of you. doesn’t really invite you to his games anymore, doesn’t ask for you to wait near the change rooms so he can see you immediately, doesn’t really want to show you off or let you say anything to his teammates.

the second was blaring in your face, and you should have ran the second you knew about oliver’s extensive dating background. instead, you stupidly did not think too much of it, diving into his honeyed words blind. he reassured you that you were the only one for him right now, and that his eye was on you and you alone, and that was enough. however, whenever you had your back toward him, his ‘loyal gaze’ would wander. 

typically, run-ins with exes never go pleasantly, and when oliver ran into his past relationship with you next to him, you heard something snap. her radiance, her attitude, her smile and grace when she turned to you to introduce herself, a part of what oliver had built within you crumbled.

she was, in the essence of the word; flawless, and you couldn’t help but doubt yourself because of it.

something in him changed the day you met her. he became… distant. not enough that it was obvious for you to cut him off and say your goodbyes, but just enough that it strung you along

you wonder what you did wrong for him to treat you like this. still, hope was abloom in your chest, assuming that it was just the stress of his busy lifestyle that was sinking him under, and because you’re his partner, you should be helping him bear that brunt too, right?

yeah, this was just you bearing his brunt.

and like domino pieces, you went falling down with him. the garden became overgrown, weeds grew through the cracks of your weakening confidence, something sour and vindictive settling in- was it directed towards you, or him? you don’t know, the line began blurring when you heard his friends talking about you behind your back, in the comfort of your own home, and oliver did nothing to ever stop them when you felt too small to defend yourself. 

the last piece crumbled when you were, unsurprisingly, alone under the blankets of your shared bed. you were scrolling through social media, trying to avoid the hollow feeling in your chest when something made you stop.

a video of a woman rearranging the flowers her partner got her, and that’s when it dawns on you. 

he’s never gotten you flowers. not even once.

***

the adrenaline in the change rooms was at an all-time high, filled with sweaty athletes who were all cackling over a sweet victory, celebrating and congratulating each other with resounding slaps on the backs. there’s the sound of clothes rustling, cleats hitting the floor, and showers running as the winners of the match get ready to go out and celebrate their successful season.

oliver, slinging his bag over his shoulder, leaves the change room first so he can meet up with a new chick he’s started talking to, farewelling his teammates who he will see at the bar in an hour.

he was not, however, expecting to see you waiting outside, he had to do a double take to make sure it was actually you and not someone who looked perfectly alike. your hair was down, you were busy on your phone, and there was a jersey in your arms, matching the design of his team’s. 

wow. you broke up with him months ago, and here you are, waiting outside for him, dressed and looking all cute? shit, the thought makes him so prideful, he almost wants to laugh. he doesn’t even need to call out your name because you’re already looking up from your phone, eyes widening when you recognise him. 

“aiku,” you murmur, clinging the jersey tighter to your chest as you hold his gaze. you’re strong, steadfast, confident, exactly like the version of you when you first met, the version he found endearing and charming. “you played well today.”

“thanks. it’s nice seeing you again, what are you waiting out here for?”

you open your mouth to say something, but there’s this wicked howl coming from behind oliver, and it’s followed by a serious of very loud, very obnoxious, and very proud cackles, and you immediately sigh at the sound. 

“y/n!” the voice sings, and of course, it belongs to no one else but shidou; nightmare incarnate, and a menace of a human being.

but he saddles up to you like it’s the most natural thing in the world, looming against you with his impressive figure, leaning on the wall with one arm as he all but cages you in. it’s a terrifying sight, unnatural, in fact. shouldn’t you be slapping him away and calling for a more dignified man like oliver to help?

“hello, shidou,” you greet, expression stern and unchanging. 

oliver wonders if the world is going to end. you? and shidou? friends? or maybe something more? 

no, ‘friends’ don’t lower their faces so close to each other that their noses are centimetres away from touching, but it’s only shidou that tiptoes that line, and he’s looking down at you with something wild in his eyes.

“hey, sweet thing,” the soccer player grins, all bark and bite, but you don’t shrink away. “i see you’ve got my jersey there, did it keep ya warm during the match?”

you huff, pushing it against his chest and shidou removes his hand from the wall to catch the piece of flimsy clothing. “don’t leave your stuff with me, or i’ll burn it next time.” 

“as if you’ll do that. you’re too sweet, sugar, i know you’ll just give it right back,” for some sick reason, shidou’s grin widens when you narrow your eyes at him. “plus it gives me a reason to see your cute face again.” 

you sigh before pushing yourself off the wall. “i’m leaving.” 

“aww, c’mon, not even going to tell me i played well?”

“are you a dog or something?”

you said to oliver that he played well… what’s that supposed to mean for him?

“i love it when you insult me,” shidou shudders, “i could get off on it.”

“freak!” you exclaim before turning around and practically stumbling away, your clumsiness betraying the cool facade you tried to maintain in front of shidou, and of course, he notices this, and begins to follow, hounding after you to close the distance. “don’t leave your stuff with me next time! this is your final warning!”

“aww, sweet thing, come back! i got you flowers!” 

true to his words, in the hand of his teammate, was an expensive-looking, well-arranged bouquet of red roses, and oliver is stunned as he tries to recall what you look like when you receive flowers. happy? delighted? no, none of those, because for some reason, there’s no image that appears in his head, as if there’s a gap in the large weave of memories he shares with you. how could that be? did he not get you flowers at all during the time you were together?

a giggle echoes down the hallway, and this time, oliver knows that it doesn’t belong to shidou. instead, the sound is honeyed, sweet, even in the dreary hallways of the stadium. it’s you who laughs so vibrantly, and if he closes his eyes and thinks for a moment, he can still recall how it sounded when you were in front of him, laughing.

the scent of real, well-nurtured flowers still linger in the air. 

© EARTHTOOZ 2025, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[secretmaniacc]

FILL THE VOID

Pairings: the salesman x Fem!oc

Summary: After avoiding him for two days, she finds herself pinned down as he insists they go out to dinner, just as he promised in their bet. Reluctantly agreeing, she anticipates an elegant evening, but the night quickly takes an exciting and dangerous turn.

Warnings: slow burn, language, violence, Dom!salesman x baddie!oc, teasing, degrading, kissing, gun play, Russian roulette, knife play, semi public sex, hair pulling, mentions of blood, oral sex, male recieving, p in v, rough sex, spanking.

Wc: 6.2k

A/n: so sorry for the wait here’s pt.2 for “ride or die” since some of y’all liked it and I’m very happy for that, did some justice this time and spiced it up they can be out of character sometime so forgive me, hope y’all will enjoy it really worked hard on this one, not proofread <3

For two days, she’d managed to avoid him—strategically timing her office hours to when he wasn’t there, ignoring his messages, and pretending not to notice the way he seemed to linger just out of reach. But deep down, she knew it was only a matter of time before he caught up with her. 

That time came at the end of a long day when she thought she was safe. She gathered her things and prepared to turn around and head towards the door, only to feel a familiar presence.

“Thought you could avoid me forever?” His voice was low, smooth, and infuriatingly smug. 

Her hand tightened on the strap of her bag as she turned, schooling her features into something calm and unaffected. “I’m busy. Move.” 

He grinned, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Busy ignoring me? Impressive effort, but I don’t take silence well.” 

“I’m not ignoring you,” she lied, stepping forward to brush past him. 

His arm shot out, blocking her path. “Really? Then why haven’t you answered my messages? Or were you too busy pondering about how much fun we had in the alley?” 

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” she shot back, her tone clipped as she tried to push past him again. 

But this time, he shifted, moving to block her entirely and locking the door with a quick twist of his wrist. The faint click of the lock sent a chill down her spine, though she refused to show it. 

“Let me go,” she said, keeping her voice steady even as she felt her pulse quicken. 

He leaned back against the door, his arms crossed lazily, as though he had all the time in the world. “Not until we settle something.” 

She arched a brow, masking her unease with irritation. “And what’s so important that you’re resorting to theatrics?” 

His grin widened, his gaze sparkling with that insufferable confidence. “I’m a man of my word. And I promised to take you to dinner, didn’t I? Unless, of course, you’d rather recall how I made you feel so good in the alley.” 

She blinked, caught off guard by the reminder. “That was two days ago. It doesn’t matter anymore.” 

“It matters to me.” He stepped closer, the teasing edge in his voice making her heart stutter. “You won, fair and square. So, dinner. Tonight.” 

“Not happening,” she said firmly, though the conviction in her voice wavered slightly. 

He tilted his head, studying her with mock curiosity. “Why so stubborn? Afraid you’ll enjoy it?” 

Her jaw tightened. “I’m just not interested.” 

“You’re lying.” 

She glared at him, determined not to let him see how her resolve faltered under the weight of his gaze. “You’re impossible.” 

“And you’re avoiding the truth,” he countered, stepping closer until there was barely a breath of space between them. “But that’s fine. Say no if you want—I’ll still show up outside your door.” 

“You wouldn’t dare,” she said, though the uncertainty in her voice made her doubt her own words. 

“Try me,” he challenged, his tone light but his intent clear. 

She sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly in defeat. “Fine. One dinner. But don’t make a habit of this.” 

His grin broadened, a glimmer of triumph lighting up his face. “Perfect. Wear something elegant—something that’ll fit the place. I expect you’ll be just as stunning as you were in the alley” 

“Excuse me?” 

He ignored her indignation, leaning in close enough for his breath to ghost against her cheek. His lips brushed lightly against her skin, leaving behind the faintest trace of warmth. “See you tonight,” he murmured before stepping aside and unlocking the door. 

She stared at him, momentarily thrown by the unexpected gesture. The smug look on his face only made her irritation flare, and she pushed past him with a sharp, “Don’t be late.” 

As she walked away, she tried to ignore the fluttering in her stomach, brushing it off as nothing more than irritation. But the faint smile tugging at her lips told a different story. 

-----

She stood before the full-length mirror, the soft glow of her bedroom light catching the gentle shimmer of her crimson dress. The bodice hugged her figure like it was made for her, the delicate cowl neckline draping gracefully across her collarbones, while the fabric flowed into a silky skirt that brushed the floor with every subtle movement. Her long, black hair fell in effortless curls to her waist, framing her face with a touch of timeless elegance. A sheer wrap rested loosely on her arms, adding a layer of ethereal softness that seemed to dance with every step. 

Her phone buzzed on the dresser, pulling her from her thoughts. She glanced down to see his text: "I’ll be there in five." Letting out a small breath, she grabbed her purse, gave herself one last look, and headed downstairs. 

The evening air was cool as she stepped outside, heels clicking softly against the pavement. There he was, leaning casually against a sleek black Audi A6, its polished exterior gleaming under the streetlights. He wore a tailored black suit that framed his tall, broad figure perfectly, paired with a crisp white shirt and a black tie that added a sharp elegance to his appearance. His dark hair was neatly styled, though a rebellious strand fell over his forehead, softening his otherwise sharp features. 

As she approached, his gaze locked on her, a flicker of admiration crossing his face before he straightened and stepped toward her. Without a word, he took her hand, lifting it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. 

“You look breathtaking,” he murmured, his voice smooth yet sincere, his eyes holding hers for just a moment longer than necessary. 

A faint blush warmed her cheeks, but she managed a small, teasing smile. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” 

His lips twitched into a smirk as he opened the passenger door for her, gesturing for her to step inside. 

She settled into the plush leather seat, the soft scent of new car and faint cologne filling the space. The interior was sleek, with polished silver accents and an impressive digital dashboard glowing faintly in the dim light. She trailed her fingers over the armrest, the comfort and luxury surprising her. 

“You own this?” she asked, glancing at him as he slipped into the driver’s seat, his hands confidently gripping the wheel. 

He chuckled softly. “Why? Did you think I’d show up in something less fitting?” 

She shook her head, amused but still impressed, as they drove in silence toward their destination.  He would make teasing comments here and there that earned a chuckle from her.

The car pulled up to one of the most elegant restaurants in town, its grand facade glowing with soft golden lights. Outside, a long line of patrons waited eagerly, some dressed to the nines, chatting in anticipation. 

Her brows lifted in surprise at the sight. ��You didn’t mention this place,” she said, her voice laced with curiosity. 

Before he could respond, two security guards stepped forward, opening her door with practiced precision. One took the keys from him while the other escorted them toward the entrance. She noticed how the murmuring crowd shifted, heads turning as they walked past. 

The guards held the doors open as they entered, bowing slightly in his direction. She bowed back out of respect, but he merely did, wrapping his arm around her waist as they stepped into the opulent dining area. 

The restaurant was stunning. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over tables draped in crisp white linens. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a breathtaking view of the city skyline, and a soft melody from a grand piano filled the air with an elegant ambiance. 

They were guided to a private table near the window, the staff pulling out her chair as she sat. As he took his seat across from her, she leaned in slightly, her tone playful. 

“Care to explain why everyone is treating you like you’re some mafia boss?” 

He chuckled, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at her. “Let’s just say I know how to make an impression.” 

She rolled her eyes, but a smirk tugged at her lips. “Oh, I’m sure you do.” 

The waitress approached with a professional yet warm smile, handing them menus. “Welcome. May I offer you something to start with?” 

She glanced at the menu, the luxurious options catching her off guard. “Are there any prices on this thing, or do we just guess?” she quipped, arching an eyebrow at him. 

He laughed softly. “Don’t worry, dinner’s on me. Feel free to splurge.” 

She smirked, leaning back in her chair. “Good, because I was planning to order the most expensive thing just to annoy you.” 

“Be my guest,” he replied smoothly, his grin teasing. “But I hope you know that means dessert is non-negotiable.” 

her eyes scanning the intricate names of dishes written in french. Brows furrowed, she tilted the menu closer as if the words would magically make sense the second time around. 

“What is... uh, rat-a-tou-ille??” she sounded out slowly, glancing up at him with genuine curiosity. 

His lips curved into an amused smile. “Ratatouille. It’s a vegetable dish—stewed with tomatoes, zucchini, eggplant, and herbs. Simple but classic..” 

“Oh, okay. That doesn’t sound too bad,” she nodded before her eyes caught another word. “And this one? Coq... au vin??” 

“Coq au vin” he corrected with a small laugh. “Chicken braised in red wine with mushrooms and bacon. Very traditional.”.” 

She tapped her chin with her finger, pretending to consider it seriously, then moved on to another dish. “Bou-ya... bouillabaisse?” 

“Bouillabaisse,” he supplied smoothly. “.It’s a fish stew with a mix of seafood, Want me to keep translating, or are you planning to make me read the whole menu for you?” 

She shot him a playful glare. “Hey, these names are intimidating, okay? I didn’t grow up speaking fluent…. Uh, whatever this is."

“french” he said, unable to suppress the laugh that bubbled out. “I have to admit, though, this clueless act of yours is kind of adorable.”

She rolled her eyes, heat rising to her cheeks. “Whatever. I’ll just stick to this one.” She pointed to a dish she didn’t recognize but liked the sound of. 

When he glanced at his menu filled with prices unlike hers, his smirk grew wider. “Interesting choice,” he mused, leaning back in his chair. 

“What?” she asked suspiciously. 

“Nothing,” he said, clearly holding back a laugh. “Just that it’s the cheapest thing on the menu.” 

Her jaw dropped. “Are you serious?” 

He nodded, still grinning. “Repick. Or I’ll do it for you.” 

She groaned, flipping through the menu again. “Fine. You pick.” 

He didn’t even look at her menu, already knowing it by heart. “Filet de boeuf Rossini,” he said confidently.

Her eyes widened slightly. “That sounds... fancy.”

“It’s perfect,” he replied with a wink. “Trust me.”

The waitress returned, taking his order for a sole meunière and hers for the beef Rossini. “And a bottle of Château d’Yquem,” he added casually.

When the waitress nodded and walked away, she raised an eyebrow. “Château d’Yquem? What’s that?”

“You’ll see,” he replied cryptically.

Moments later, the waitress returned with a sleek silver ice bucket, placing it on the table with a bottle of golden wine nestled inside. The light caught the liquid, making it shimmer, and her eyes widened as realization hit.

“This is wine?” she asked, pointing to the bottle. 

“Not just any wine,” he said, pouring a glass with practiced ease. “It’s... exclusive.” 

“How exclusive?” she pressed.

He took a slow sip, his lips curving into a knowing smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Her eyes widened. “You’re drinking liquid gold?”

He laughed at her incredulous expression, his voice rich with amusement. “Relax. Tonight’s on me, remember?”

She rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

“Part of my charm,” he replied with a wink, setting his glass down.

Silence evoked as the air in the restaurant shimmered with quiet luxury, a symphony of muted chatter, piano tunes and crystal clinks filling the room. She leaned back against the chair, her delicate fingers tracing absent patterns on the edge of the table. Her gaze flickered toward the expansive window, the city lights sprawling like a living canvas. There was an effortless grace to her, the way her crimson dress caught the glow of the chandeliers, the silk shifting like liquid fire with her every move.

He couldn’t look away.

His pupils sharpened with intensity as he studied her, the soft curve of her jawline, the way her lips parted slightly as she sighed in quiet awe. Her black hair, cascading in soft curls to her waist, gleamed under the golden light. She was a vision, suspended somewhere between elegance and rebellion, her beauty a contradiction he couldn’t quite define but didn’t want to stop trying to.

She tilted her head, her profile catching the faint light of the chandelier, and his breath hitched. As he took a sip of his whiskey, the taste burned less than the thought that this moment—her, here, now—felt like something he shouldn’t deserve.

He smirked at himself, shaking his head slightly. Get a grip.

But then she glanced back at him, catching his stare, her brow arching in question. “What?” she asked, her voice laced with curiosity.

“Nothing,” he replied, his smirk deepening as he set his glass down. “Just taking it all in.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the slight tug of a smile at the corner of her lips.

Moments later their food arrived, the rich aroma wafting from her plate made her mouth water. She picked up her fork, taking a cautious bite. The moment the tender beef hit her taste buds, her eyes fluttered shut, and a soft hum of delight escaped her lips. 

“This is... amazing,” she said, already diving in for another bite. 

He watched her, captivated by the way she was completely absorbed in her food. Every little sound she made—those happy, involuntary noises—pulled his attention. For a moment, the bustling restaurant around them disappeared, leaving only her. 

“You’re staring, again.” she said suddenly, snapping him out of his daze. 

“You make it hard not to,” he admitted with a small smile. 

She flushed, quickly taking another bite. “Just eat your food, so we can get done” she muttered. 

He chuckled, cutting into his fish. They settled into a comfortable rhythm, exchanging light banter between bites. At one point, she attempted to spear a piece of his fish with her fork, but he caught her wrist with a grin. 

“Ah, ah. That’s mine,” he teased. 

“Sharing is caring,” she retorted, but he held firm, playfully shaking his head. 

He shook his head with exaggerated defiance, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “You want it that bad? Beg for it.”

She narrowed her eyes, “‘Never mind,’” she said, her voice thick with sarcasm as she went back to eat.

He chuckled, leaning closer. “Come on, don’t act like you didn’t do it.”

“That’s it, I’m leaving,” she said, standing up abruptly and grabbing her bag.

He burst into laughter, his gaze never leaving her. “I’m messing with you,” he said, grabbing her wrist gently and pulling her back into the chair.

She shot him a glare, crossing her arms. “You’re impossible.”

“But you love it,” he replied, giving her an amused smirk.

She sighed, reaching for her glass of water. As her gaze drifted across the room, it landed on a couple at a nearby table—so engrossed in each other they might as well have been the only two people in the restaurant. The man’s hand rested on the small of the woman’s back, and their faces were inches apart, whispering between soft kisses.

Her nose wrinkled. “Ugh. Get a room,” she muttered, her voice dripping with disdain.

He followed her line of sight, his brow arching before a low chuckle escaped his lips. “Jealous?”

She snapped her head back to him, her eyes narrowing. “Jealous? Please. That’s gross. There’s a time and place for that sort of thing, and it’s not next to someone trying to enjoy a meal.”

His grin widened as he leaned back, clearly enjoying her reaction. “You’re awfully opinionated for someone who didn’t seem to mind when I kissed you.”

Her cheeks flushed instantly. “That was different!”

“Oh, was it?” he teased, his tone playfully smug. “Because if I recall, you were the one leaning in first.”

Her jaw dropped. “I was not! You were the one who couldn’t keep it together and kissed me like some—”

“Like what?” he interrupted, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Someone who’s not afraid to take a chance?”

She glared at him, struggling to find a comeback that wouldn’t dig her deeper into the hole. “You’re crazy,” she finally huffed, crossing her arms again.

“not as much as you,” he replied, his smirk softening just enough to make her annoyed

The unspoken tension hung like a storm cloud between them, unshakably present as they lingered in that charged moment. “Are you actually saying you wish you were that couple?” he asked, leaning in with a seriousness that made her heart constrict.

Her heart raced at his words, a flutter of uncertainty and curiosity mixing with annoyance. “I just think PDA is a bit much!” she shot back, a hint of defensiveness creeping into her voice. “I mean, can’t people keep it to themselves?”

“Really?” he challenged, his voice low, brushing against her ear as he leaned closer. “Or maybe you’re just afraid of what it could feel like to let loose, to feel something real for once?”

Her breath caught in her throat as a rush of heat spread across her cheeks. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she shot back, a desperate edge in her voice. She could feel the tension weave between them like a live wire, crackling with possibility.

“Maybe I do,” he replied, that daring glint in his eye making her pulse quicken. “Maybe you just need the right moment to let go.”

The couple at the table nearby erupted in laughter again, and she found herself glancing back at them, trying to refocus. But when she looked up, he was watching her with an intensity that made her skin tingle. “Forget them,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, pulling her even further into his orbit. “What do you want? Something real? Or more of this… competition?”

Before she could formulate a response, he suddenly stood, extending a hand toward her. “Come with me.”

“Where?” she asked, hesitating but feeling a rush of adrenaline at the thought of doing something entirely unexpected.

“A place where we can talk,” he replied, a challenge sparking in his eyes. “Unless you’re too scared to follow.”

With her heart racing and her mind swirling with uncertainty, she placed her hand in his. He led her through the restaurant’s bustling dining area, weaving through startled diners and busy waitstaff. But there was no turning back. The thrill of being drawn into the unknown ignited something within her.

They approached a door at the back of the restaurant, and she felt both exhilarated and apprehensive. He flung it open, and they stepped into a dimly lit hallway lined with fancy doors that seemed to whisper secrets.

“Seriously, where are we?” she asked, blinking in the low light as confusion mixed with an adrenaline high.

“Somewhere more private,” he replied, his voice low and dangerous, eyes flickering with mischief and something deeper. “We won’t be interrupted here.”

Her pulse raced, excitement and fear coiling in her stomach. “Is this your idea of romance?” she shot back, the challenge lacing her voice, even as heat coursed through her.

“Maybe it’s just my idea of taking risks,” he countered, stepping closer, the space between them charged in a way that made her skin tingle. “You might even enjoy it.”

The energy shifted as they stood beneath the dim glow of the overhead light, their breaths mingling in the tight space. She caught herself wanting to feel the weight of his words, the electricity in the air. “What if someone catches?” she asked, half playful and half serious, but the way he was looking at her made her thrill with curiosity.

“Let them,” he said, eyes smouldering, stepping closer until there was barely any space left between them. “Are you really going to back down now?”

She felt a rush of defiance surge within her, mixed with undeniable attraction. “I’m not afraid,” she said boldly, but her voice wavered slightly, betraying the thrill and lust she was trying to suppress.

“Then let’s find out how dangerous this might get,” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear, igniting the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

With that, he turned on his heel, pulling her deeper into the hall, and she felt her heart pounding with excitement and uncertainty. Each step into the unknown only drew them closer together, and she couldn't shake the thrill of what lay ahead—the thrilling uncertainty,

He paused in front of an ornate door that looked far more expensive than the rest, its golden handle glinting in the dim light. With a knowing smirk, he pushed it open, and she was met with an intoxicating scent—rich cologne mingling with something deeper, something intimate that tugged at her senses.

As they stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. The room was lavishly decorated, a blend of modern luxury and classic elegance. An oversized leather couch sat in the center along with a table, surrounded by walls adorned with vibrant artwork that seemed to pull her in. Warm lights cast a cozy glow, and a plush rug covered the floor, offering a sense of comfort veiled in sultriness.

“wow,” she breathed, taking in the opulence, momentarily forgetting the tension simmering between them.

“Sit,” he commanded softly, gesturing toward the couch. She hesitated for only a moment before obeying, settling into the soft fabric while he moved around the room, his gaze scanning various items scattered about—a vintage record player, a collection of intriguing books, and an array of exotic liquor bottles.

Stopping at a sleek display cabinet, he opened the door and pulled out a pistol, its silver surface gleaming in the warm light. A grin played across his lips as he turned to face her, an unsettling excitement dancing in his eyes.

“We’re going to play a game,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Russian roulette.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “Are you serious?”

“Relax.” He waved his hand dismissively, the light glinting off the barrel. “Only this time, we’re playing with a twist. There’s only one bullet, and each time the gun goes off, we have to strip a piece of clothing.”

A mix of thrill and apprehension surged through her. “That’s insane.”

“Maybe,” he replied, his smirk deepening, “but wouldn’t it be fun?”

With a defiant spark in her eyes, she leaned forward. “Fine, let’s play.”

He sat across from her, the couch sinking slightly under his weight, and loaded the bullet into the chamber with a casualness that both intrigued and unnerved her. He spun the cylinder and brought the gun to his temple, pulling the trigger—click. He laughed, a dark sound that echoed in the room,

“Not so scary, right?” he teased, loosening his suit jacket. With a fluid motion, revealing a fitted dress shirt that clung to his frame, accentuating the muscular definition of his arms and shoulders. The sight made her pulse quicken

“Your turn.” He passed the gun to her.

She arched an eyebrow but took the gun, feeling its weight in her hand. She couldn’t believe they were doing this. She spun the cylinder herself, heart racing, and then pressed it to her temple. Click. A rush of relief washed over her.

“Now it’s time to shed that scarf,” he said with a teasing tone. With a quick, decisive movement, she untied the delicate fabric and let it fall to the floor, feeling freer, more emboldened.

“Here you go,” she responded, tossing the gun back to him. The tension was tangible as he caught it effortlessly.

filled with a languid confidence. “Ready?” He pressed the barrel once more to his temple—click. The sound rang through the air like a taunt, a challenge freighted with electricity.

“Lucky again,” he grinned, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

“What’s next? Your shirt?” she quipped, eager to see how far this would go.

His gaze flicked to her, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he loosens the tie taking it off, before he began to unbutton his crisp white dress shirt. With each button undone, the cloth pulled away to reveal the chiselled muscles of his torso, the defined lines and curves making her breathless. He threw the shirt aside, letting it flutter to the ground like a fallen banner of surrender.

She couldn’t help but take in the sight, her breath momentarily caught in her throat. she breathed, both impressed and challenged by the game they were playing.

“Like what you see? Now it’s your turn,” he teased, giving her the gun once more, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

She took the gun, spun the cylinder yet again, and pressed it against her temple—click. Relief flooded her, but the tension was palpable.

“Let’s play it safe,” she decided, slipping off her heels and leaving her feet bare on the plush rug beneath her. The contact with the soft Fibers felt grounding after the intensity of the game.

“Back to me,” he said, taking the gun from her hands once more. He spun the cylinder, glancing at her with that effortless chill. “Here we go.”

With a languid movement, he pressed the cold metal against his own temple, a shrug of confidence reflecting in his posture. He squeezed the trigger—click. The sound reverberated, leaving an unsettling silence in its wake.

She felt a small knot of apprehension twist in her stomach. Could they keep going like this? The stakes were rising, and she felt the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins.

He turned to her, offering her the gun again. “Your turn. Only two triggers are left, make sure not to die.”

With a mixture of determination and nerve, she accepted the gun from him. Her heart raced as she spun the cylinder for what felt like the hundredth time.

He stood to remove his shoes, casually tossing them to the side. That simple act ignited something within her, a thrilling edge of power and vulnerability. Just as he prepared to sit down, she lunged forward with a sudden burst of resolve.

With a swift motion, she pinned him against the couch, the gun now aimed firmly at his chest.

"What’s the matter?" he teased, the laughter in his eyes shifting to something darker. “Afraid you will die?”

“Not a chance,” she challenged, taking a seat on his lap, her pulse racing. In a moment of reckless defiance, she kept the gun pointed at him. “You think this is a game?”

He laughed, a wild, psychotic sound that echoed against the walls. his hands resting firmly on her waist, the gun now pressed against his chest as he leaned in closer. “I love it when you take charge.”

“You’re going to regret underestimating me,” she said, catching a glimpse of the wild delight dancing in his eyes.

“so it’s Game over for me?” he taunted, his words dripping with boldness. His hands slowly wandered to her thighs, fingers teasing, sending pulses of electricity coursing through her. “Shame, really. I’d hate to die without pleasuring you.”

Her breath hitched at his insinuation, his cocky demeanour igniting an uncontrollable fire within her. The tension crackled like static in the air, urging her to respond.

“You wish.” she said, her voice wavering slightly with the rush of emotions surging through her.

With a fury of need and desire, she leaned in and captured his lips in a fervent kiss, their mouths colliding in an explosion of pent-up frustration and attraction. The world around them melted away as her heart raced. The moment was electric, and in the whirlwind of passion, she pulled the trigger.

But all that followed was a click.

The sound ricocheted in the silence between them, and her eyes widened in shock as she pulled away. The thrill morphed into a dizzying rush as realization struck—there had been no bullet, no fatal ending, only the raw, intoxicating energy swirling in the air between them.

That's when he took the gun from her hands, his movements quick and decisive, a spark of defiance in his eyes. With a swift motion, he tossed it across the room, the gun landing with a loud thud against the wall.

“If you wanted my tongue against you, then you’ve fucking earned it,” he spat, crashing their lips together in a fierce, hungry kiss.

Her hands tangled in his hair, tugging tightly, igniting a low groan that reverberated into her mouth.

"You wanted to fucking kill me, sweetheart," he growled, biting her bottom lip, eliciting a sharp whimper from her.

“It was your game,” she countered, the adrenaline pulsing through her like fire.

“And yet,” he replied, his voice dark and sultry, “I’d never kill you.”

“I wouldn’t either.” She pulled back, a smirk curving her lips as her eyes roamed over his swollen lips and messy hair, an enticing sight.

“So, why did you aim that gun at me? Say it.”

“Because I was too damn scared, you’d do it instead of me,” she admitted, feeling his grip on her loosen slightly.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you really know how to make a scene,” he murmured, his fingers deftly unbuckling his belt with confidence.

“Kneel,” he demanded, helping her rise before guiding her down so she knelt on the floor, her dress cascading around her like a waterfall.

“You want to act like a little slut? Then suck until your mouth isn’t filthy,” he spat, and she flashed him a smirk as she slid his pants down, revealing his hard on.

Her hand wrapped around the base of him, moving up and down slowly, the rhythm sending soft growls of pleasure from his lips. As she continued pumping back and forth, in a rhythmic pattern the more he strived for her lips.

“Did you not hear me? I said suck,” he snapped, frustration threading through his tone.

She tilted her head, feigning innocence. “You call me a slut yet can’t wait a moment longer?” With a teasing glimmer in her eyes, she leaned forward, taking his tip into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it while maintaining a steady rhythm with her hand. His breath hitched, a bead of sweat forming on his chest as he succumbed to the jolting pleasure.

Without warning he bunched her hair up in his fist and pushed his tip to the back of her throat, thrusting himself deeper into her mouth until she gagged. The sight of her watering eyes only seemed to rile him up.

“Look how fucking beautiful you are, my darling. Take all of me, just like the good whore you are," he breathed, pleasure dripping from his words.

Her eyes glistened with tears. and he watched her head bob back and forth.

"fuck I'm going to—" he gasped, releasing her head and pulling back slightly. But before he could finish himself off, she caught his hand, her determination surging, and continued, letting the warm liquid hit the back of her throat while he moaned, curses spilling from his lips until he finished.

He fixed his gaze on her as she swallowed every drop, wiping her bottom lip clean with a satisfied smile. “You’re not finishing with me down here,” she challenged, cheeky confidence returning.

“Insanity suits you,” he replied, standing and holding out a hand to help her rise. “Now let’s see just how wet you are for me.”

He led her to the table, and a surge of vulnerability washed over her as he slammed her against it giving him full access to her clit, while her stomach pressed against the polished wood. His hands roamed the insides of her thighs, and she softly moans as he moved her lace underwear to the side, his fingers brushing against her trembling skin

Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he pulled her head back, connecting their lips once more, sucking on her bottom lip. After He released her hair, his hand quickly found her clit, eliciting a moan that was both pleasure and pain.

“Make a scene, sweetheart. Let everyone hear how much you enjoy this," he seethed, delivering a sharp smack that made her gasp, her stomach hitting the table harder.

As he moved her dress out of the way, he slowly removed her thong. Her grip tightened on the table's edges, anticipation thrumming in her veins. But just as she exhaled, he pressed a blade to her neck, drawing a gasp from her lips as he grabbed another fistful of hair to pull her back.

“I’m going to fuck you until you beg to finish, sweetheart,” he said, his voice a low growl. “But this is on my terms. Move too much, and your blood will splatter.” She nodded slowly, and without warning he pushed himself inside of her.

She gasped, feeling every inch of him stretching her, she felt his eyes darken with lust as he fucked her against the table. Each powerful thrust accompanied by the sound of the table squeaking beneath her, the blade scratched at her skin making her hiss at the foreign pain of the knife grazing her neck.

“you like that? hmm” he asked, delight etched in his expression.

“I do. It hurts," she admitted, breathless.

“Tell me to stop,”

But the words caught in her throat, her senses overwhelmed as the blade pressed deeper, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes back in pleasure.

“ But that's the thing, you like that huh? You don't have to hide what you truly want. I know you like this blade at your neck. Watch how good you take my dick slut" he groaned into her ear picking up the pace and she could already feel herself coming close to finishing.

A few more cuts on her neck and he flipped her over, her back colliding with the table, the sharp contrast of sensations sending goosebumps over her skin.

He poured his focus on the cuts, pressing kisses over the crimson marks as the metallic taste lingered in the air. The euphoric mix of pain and pleasure sent her into a frenzy, her nails digging into his bare back as he slipped himself back inside of her her.

“You won’t be the only one leaving this room marked,” she moaned in between their kisses. Both of them cursing and filling the room with the sound of their pleasure.

Their bodies moved in sync, letting the euphoria continue and their pace become sloppy. a dangerous dance of desire and desperation, the air thick with their shared moans and whispered curses.

“I’m gonna—"

“Not yet,” he interrupted, the tension in his voice low and commanding.

“I can't—” she yelped when he stopped, a sharp smack to her ass, only hard enough to sting.

“You can, and you will,” he grunted, slamming into her again, her hips bucking against him as he threw her leg onto his shoulder, pushing deeper. His penetrating gaze bore into her, making sure she didn’t disobey.

“Beg if you wanna finish.”

“Please,” she pleaded, breathless urgency coloring her voice.

“You're mine. Never forget that. Got it?" he growled. She hummed in agreement.

“Use your words,”

“Yes, yes, I’m yours, please—”

“I know, sweetheart. I know. Cum for me. Be a good girl,” he murmured, and she quickly became undone. After a couple more strokes he finished after, his head rolling back in delight.

Her legs quivering and the short circuit of her brain stopping for just a moment. It was almost as if her body was made to be with him alone, each pulse and surge a beautiful convergence of pleasure and pain.

He tucked himself back before effortlessly lifting her off the table. Her feet barely touched the floor before her legs wobbled beneath her, struggling to support her weight.

"I can’t walk," she muttered, clutching the edge of the table for support, the remnants of their passion still buzzing in her veins.

"What was that?" he asked, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

"You heard me. Shut up and help me stand up," she sneered, irritation mingling with the lingering satisfaction in her tone.

He rolled his eyes, but his expression softened as he stepped closer, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her upright. "Alright, sweetheart. I’ve got you," he murmured, his voice low and steady. With gentle firmness, he helped her regain her footing, guiding her away from the table as she leaned into him.

They took a few tentative steps, and he chuckled again, the sound warm against her ear. "You really know how to make things interesting."

“Oh, shut up,” she replied, though a smile betrayed her annoyance. “You’re lucky I’m even standing,” she added with a playful roll of her eyes.

“Lucky? I was thinking of round two,” he shot back with a grin, winking at her as they made their way towards the couch. Unaware of long night they’re about to witness.

part 1

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

Do you accept orders? could you do a story about Dom!Viktor x Sub!Reader x Switch! Jayce, on the day of the ball, the reader wears a dress that made her look more beautiful and cute than usual and was therefore drawing people's attention at the ball to she , would the boys be jealous or possessive? Would they punish the reader?

- 🌸

Hi anon 🌸!! I'm not taking requests for fics currently, because I've got quite a few ongoing projects, but you can check my pinned post or my header description to know whenever I am 💕! But I just HAD to blabber about that idea for a second because I LOVE jealous shenanigans

Viktor and Jayce both strike me as the jealous type, but in two very different ways.

Viktor is the more silent, envious type of jealous. He has too much self-respect to just throw himself in front of you dramatically. So, he watches. He overanalyses every look anyone gives you, any kiss of your hand that seems to last a second too long. He’s methodical, following you around like a shadow the entire night with a falsely polite smile plastered on his lips. It's just one night, he tells himself, one night of pompous nobles leering at your cleavage and showering you with compliments. In the end, it won't matter, because you'll be in his bed when this is over, not theirs.

He won't outright tell you he was jealous, because he's embarrassed at the idea of seeming childish, but boy, will he still let you know. Expect bite marks on every visible inch of your skin and the imprint of his pretty fingers around your neck and thighs. He'll probably edge you a few times, have you beg and moan his name in tears without letting you cum, just to feel like he's the one in control again. He's willing to admit he's a little petty when it comes to you.

Others might not know it was him when they see your smeared makeup and strategically placed bruises tomorrow, but you will, and that's really all that matters to him.

Jayce is the visibly possessive type of jealous. Is some diplomat telling you a funny story? Jayce doesn't give a damn about decorum. His hand will quickly wrap around your waist to pull you closer to him and he'll enter the conversation with a megawatt smile as if he's always been part of it. But his hand will stay firmly in place for everyone to see what's off limits. In fact, it would be almost impossible to find him not touching you in some way, whether that be by gently replacing wayward strands of hair or wiping away imaginary stains of wine around your lips. He can't help it, especially when he sees others look at you with the same desire that he has for you. He has to show that you're his.

Jayce will be especially talkative in bed after that, constantly mumbling your name under his breath as he fucks you, repeating the word ‘mine’ over and over again. He's very petty about it too, asking if you liked having everyone's attention on you, if you got off to strangers undressing you with their eyes. If he’s gotten really rilled up, the usual “baby” and “princess” might become a “whore” or “slut”. Always his whore though. Nobody else's. He doesn't say it to be mean, in fact he tends to feel bad afterwards, but he needs confirmation straight from your lips that you don't care about them. That the only one you want to ruin you is him.

If you oblige, you are getting fucked raw on the closest available surface for a solid three rounds. You're too tired for another one? That's alright, he’ll pump his cock in his fist right above your entrance, and only push in when he's ready to cum. He'll fill you until he’s satisfied no one could look at you and doubt for a second who fucked you that good.

[lyrenminth]

Wedding dress

Fluff.

******

The melodic whispers and tinkling laughter of your daughters, Rosie, seven, and Julie, five, drifted down the stairs, while you made dinner. Their older brother, ten-year-old Liam, was away at summer camp, while Joe was training for his upcoming season.

Suddenly, their laughter grew closer, tinged with a nervous excitement that piqued your curiosity. "What are you two up to?" you inquired, a playful sternness in your voice.

"Nothing!" Rosie exclaimed, her eyes wide with a mischievous glint. "We saw a video about wedding dresses and we want to see yours!"

"My wedding dress?" you mused, a faint smile in your lips. "It must be tucked away in storage somewhere"

"You can wear it again!" Julie piped up, her voice filled with childlike wonder. "Like a princess!" She curtsied with a flourish, her tiny hands clasped in front of her.

"Oh, darling," you chuckled, "I don't think I'd quite fit into it anymore" You gently corrected her, "But I can certainly show it to you."

"Yes! Yes!" they chanted, their voices filled with excitement as they bounced on the balls of their feet.

With dinner simmering gently on the stove, you ascended the stairs, the girls trailing close behind like eager puppies. Their tiny hands helped you rummage through the overflowing attic closet, their excitement mounting with each discarded box. Finally, they stumbled upon it – a pristine white box, nestled amongst forgotten treasures.

"We found it! We found it!" they shrieked in unison, their voices echoing through the dusty attic.

You carefully carried the weighty box down to your bedroom and placed it delicately on the bed. "Open it, Mommy! Open it!" Julie urged, her impatience barely concealed.

"Let's open it together," you suggested, inviting their eager participation.

As they lifted the lid, a wave of nostalgia washed over you. You remembered the day you wore that dress, the intoxicating blend of excitement and nervousness, the feeling of walking on air. You remembered the way the sunlight had danced on the delicate lace, the way Joe's eyes had widened in awe when he saw you for the first time. You even remembered the faint blush of wine staining the pristine white silk after you tried to drink and dance at the same time.

"It has lace and flowers!" Rosie gasped, her tiny fingers tracing the delicate embroidery. Julie, ever the impulsive one, couldn't resist and pulled the dress out of the box. "Ooh, it's so heavy!" she exclaimed, struggling to hold the weight of the designer gown.

You gently untangled the fabric, revealing the mermaid silhouette and the voluminous skirt that could be detached for easier movement. A sigh escaped your lips as you admired the intricate floral details that adorned the corset, delicate and understated. This dress, you realized, had once made you feel like a goddess, ethereal and enchanting.

Joe's face, filled with a mixture of awe and tenderness, flashed through your mind. He had looked at you that day as if you were the only woman in the world. His grin lived free on your mind, his possesive hands around your waist.

"Mommy, you need to wear it again!" the girls declared in unison.

You hesitated, a playful doubt creeping into your voice. "Do you really think so?"

"Yes! Yes!" they insisted, their eyes sparkling with anticipation.

With a resigned shrug, you conceded. "Alright then, let's see what we can do."

The girls transformed into whirlwind fairies, assisting you in the delicate task of slipping into the dress. Rosie, a budding makeup artist, meticulously applied a touch of blush to your cheeks while Julie, the consummate stylist, brushed your hair with gentle strokes.

You settled into a chair, basking in the playful chaos of their ministrations, when Joe's voice broke through the feminine chatter. "What in the world is going on here?" he inquired, a curious smile playing on his lips.

"Daddy! We're playing princess with Mommy!" Julie announced, her big blue eyes sparkling with excitement. "Does she look pretty?"

"She does, always," Joe replied, his gaze lingering on your figure with an intensity that made your heart flutter.

"Did you see? It's her wedding dress!" Rosie exclaimed, her voice filled with a sense of wonder.

A blush crept up your neck, betraying your embarrassment. Ten years of marriage, and he still had the power to make you feel like a blushing schoolgirl.

He stepped into the room, his eyes tracing the lines of your figure. The dress, once so loose, now clung to your curves, the lace at the back straining against your skin. You felt a pang of self-consciousness, a stark reminder of the passage of time. "Turn around for me, babe" he called. You sent him a warning glare and he just laughed. You turned around to show him the back. "So pretty, momma" Julie exclaimed, her little fists tucked under her chin, clueless about the hungry stare in her father eyes. Joe´s hands were instantly on your ass.

"Damn" he whispered on your ear. "Do you want to recreate our honeymoon?" You got goosebumps, and grabbed his shoulders to reach his level. "Do you?"

"Kiss the bride!" Rosie yelled, excited.

"Yes, kiss her" Juli demaded "Kiss, kiss, kiss" they chanted.

Joe grabbed you by the waist and leaned in to kiss you. It was short, but feeling his lips on yours always brought you joy.

The girls jumped on his dad and Joe caught them before it was to late.

You were glad they could have these memories. It was important to show them what love could look like.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

The Warning With Steve Schmidt:

Four years ago today, after losing a presidential election, Donald Trump incited an insurrection against the US Constitution. His mob stormed the Capitol, pissed on the walls and shat on the floors. They did $1.5 million in damage, caused injuries to at least 174 of Capitol police officers, and caused the deaths of five people. Trump will soon pardon the January 6 criminals, lionize them, and hang medals around their necks. Have no doubt about this. Meanwhile, Elon Musk has denounced Nigel Farage, the leader of the UK Reform Party, saying that he is unfit to lead it. He has also stepped up his interference in the forthcoming German elections. He has also begun severely limiting criticism of himself and others on X with a social media scoring system that is straight out of China.

The Washington Post is in a state of collapse. The paper’s best political writers, journalists and commentators are like the first-class passengers on Titanic being lowered into half-filled life boats taking them to the Wall Street Journal and The Atlantic, but the truth is that there aren’t enough life boats for all. Everyone is going to want off a ship that is sinking into disgrace. Whatever private commitments were made between the Graham family and Bezos when he bought The Washington Post regarding its stewardship have been shattered. The most incredible part about the capitulations — which are not the least bit surprising — is how quickly they happened, and without so much as a soft whimper or scuffle.

By doing so, most editorial leaders of these institutions have demonstrated the only place they are truly fit to work is the Trump White House. There, they could combine the practice of moral appeasement, fecklessness, dishonesty, weakness and self-interest with being cheered, promoted and celebrated. Instead, these low men and women have to face the reality that the person staring back at them in the mirror is a different version of Lindsey Graham — only they call themselves journalists as opposed to senator. The farce is the same. The cowardice is the same. The record will show that when the starting gun sounded nobody came close to Joe Scarborough and Mika Brzezinski with their Usain Bolt-like dash to Mar-a-Lago. Bezos must look at them through his capitulant lens as visionaries. Perhaps they will have the opportunity to summer aboard Koru, his yacht, with the Lady Sanchez in the south of France. Given that Bezos has green-lit a Melania documentary that explains her reemergence from witness protection, maybe she could be there as well, softly purring about her deep love of Donald and America.

[...] Jeff Bezos, Sam Altman, Elon Musk, and all the rest of America’s oligarchs hold the American people in contempt. Because they do, they can’t see the character of the steelworker, trucker, nurse, teacher or cop. They only see one thing, and that in the end, is why this whole miserable MAGA project will crash and burn. They are locusts preparing to swarm to engorge themselves even though they feel no hunger and want for nothing. Donald Trump will keep pushing until someone, somewhere, some day, effectively pushes back again. I hope that day comes soon because until then they are going to be full speed ahead. By the time the inaugural address is over there will be perfect clarity around what must be fiercely opposed as indecent and un-American.

Steve Schmidt’s column is on the nose here. It’s insulting to see so many people and institutions obey in advance and capitulate to Trumpism, especially the Washington Post.

[sweetflanfiction]

Asymetrical Symphony - Part 15

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know.

A.N: I've made some cute headers for the thing!!! What do you guys think??

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11 • Part 12 • Part 13 • Part 14

• ··········· • ············ •

It was fascinating how quickly he realized that, for hextech to go astray, one of them had to die. There was no doubt in his mind that if his tech had been deviated to another path, one of its creators had to disappear.

“That’s a complicated question to answer.” looked back at him, smiling sadly. “If it helps us keep the tech away from her, I need to know.” “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you…It’s just that complicated… The answer is both, neither, and I don’t know.”

He leaned back in his chair and ran a hand over his hair, frustration written on his handsome features. 

“Maybe… if we could try the rune in a safe environment…” Viktor made his way back towards you, placing his tray on the table you had placed yours on, and sat down. “...we can figure out what it is.”

The taller man gently placed a plate on the piano bench next to your thigh. It contained two of the same creamy strawberry pastries he had given you before. You looked at him and smiled as he mentioned them to you with a tilt of his head.

Jayce immediately grabbed the mug with coffee and took a swig. Viktor, however, had a mug filled with something that was topped with heavy cream and what looked like chocolate powder. If it tasted like it looked, it must just be a sugary bomb to his palate. He grabbed a spoon and took a small piece of cream, bringing it to his mouth, closing his eyes as the sweetness hit his tongue.

It was strange watching him bring any food to his lips since his counterpart almost had to be force-fed. It was even stranger when he actually made a little approval sound of whatever he was eating.

“Councilor Tallis.” A familiar voice came from the entrance, and the clicking of heels followed it.

Jayce immediately looked back at Mel’s approach, straightening up and pushing a hand through his hair, trying to comb it back in place.

The beautiful woman walked towards the piano, the golden lines on her skin shimmering and reflecting light. You had to admit, Mel Medarda was perfection. Add that to her cunning and her smarts, and it shouldn't surprise anyone that she became a sorceress herself. 

“Ah, the troupe is all here.” She said, jokingly, her smile not reaching her eyes but seemingly honest nonetheless. She looked at you and extended a hand. “I don’t believe we have been formally introduced. Mel Medarda, Head Councilor.”

You got up from your seat at the piano and shook her hand, wanting to add “universe hopper” at the end but deciding not to.

“That was quite the first impression.” She kept smiling at you, placing a hand on Jayce’s shoulder, and the inventor smiled up at her.  “Not my usual MO, but unfortunately it couldn't be helped.” You answered, smiling back at her, sitting back down. “I look forward to speaking with you in the future. I do need to steal Councilor Tallis away for a moment. Governing body business and all that.” She rolled her eyes as she squeezed Jayce’s shoulders, and the man stood up.

If you had to hazard a guess, the 'governing body business' involved Jayce recounting what had happened in the lab with her mother and Salo on their little impromptu inspection.

“No need for stealing council Medarda,” Viktor said, not looking up at her from his sugary delight. “We gladly offer him over…”

Jayce looked back at his partner with an unamused expression.

“We’ll finish this later.” He looked at Viktor and then back at you.

As they both walked away, you resumed your playing, your fingers drifting over the keys spontaneously. You saw Viktor’s head snap up as he scooped the last drop of cream into his mug, leaving only a beige-looking liquid in it. 

“I take it you don’t know how to play.” You looked back at the keys, gently swaying with the melody. “I write numbers on a blackboard, and I tinker with things that more often than not explode in my face. Much like writing music, playing music escapes me.” He pointed the spoon to the keys. “Wanna try?”

You suggestively raised your eyebrows and tilted your head to the keys, enticing the poor scientist. Sliding over to one side of the bench, you patted the space, taking the small pink pastry and eating it in one bite. He looked confused at first, but his curiosity got the better of him. The need to know things and try things were always qualities that didn't seem to waver in any iteration of Viktor—the passion for learning never ceasing or decreasing.

He sat next to you, adjusting his leg and leaning his cane on the side of the piano. Viktor cleaned his palms on his pant legs and cleared his throat. You heard the barista groan.

“Oh Gods. Not the scientist at the piano...” he mumbled loud enough for both of you to hear. “I do believe our friend Loriel is not happy about this turn of events…” Viktor announced just as loudly as the bartender, and Loriel took a very deep breath. “He is going to love what comes next then.” You added turning back to the ivories.  “Maybe the Academy's cafe isn’t exactly the best place for piano lessons.” Viktor whispered, turning his back to the bar, some doubts in his voice. “Then they shouldn’t have placed the piano in the cafe.” “Why is the piano in here anyway?”

Viktor looked back at Loriel, who shrugged and mouthed something to the tune of 'to torment me.' You laughed, and Viktor followed with a snicker. He straightened up, as best as he could, squared his shoulders, and placed his hands on the keys. You mimicked his stance and realized that all of your right side was touching all of his left. From shoulder to knee, and yet there were no feelings of panic bubbling in your stomach.

“Why are we so stiff?” You whispered to him, moving your head slightly to look at him. “Is this not how professional piano players play?” “Not unless they want to look like a douchebag.” You shook your shoulders a bit and relaxed; he did the same. “May I?” You pointed to his hand, asking permission to touch and move them. He nodded, and you placed his two index fingers on two specific keys. “Now you do this.”

(Chopstick piano)

You placed your own index fingers on the ivories, slightly away from his, and moved them in sync, both fingers reflecting what the other was doing. The melody was simple and repetitive, and the movements were pretty mechanical. Easy to learn.

Viktor caught on quickly, the movements coming out slowly and clumsily at first but becoming familiar with every try.

“Please play something else!” Loriel half shouted exasperatedly, and you looked back at him, about to give him an angry look but noticing he was half joking.

“Remember when I told you magic is just like music?” You whispered to him, and he nodded, excitedly looking at you. His golden eyes were bright and joyful. “Yes, once you’ve played a note the first time, the next time it becomes easier.” “And what we did in the closet.” You looked down onto your side of the keys, missing the red tint that appeared on his cheeks. 

Nudging his knee gently, you made a gesture for him to start playing his little tune. At some point, you started to add another melody, a rhythmic thumping that intertwined with the simple notes he was playing. You heard rather than saw Viktor's little gasp of excitement.

“Thank goodness.” You heard Loriel say. “Now keep moving along the playlist.”

When you ended the music, he followed your lead and stopped his actions but did not take his fingers from the keys. 

“You know what? Let’s switch it up.” You slid from your side of the bench and nudged his shoulders to the side where you sat, him clumsily going and readjusting his leg.

You sat where he had been before and showed him the repetitious keystrokes you had added previously to his beginner lesson. His long fingers easily managed to touch the keys as you started to tap your foot on a steady tempo. Slowly but surely, the scientist managed to accompany your foot-tapping with his playing.

Letting him go over the chords a couple of times, you jumped in. First doing the same simple two-finger melody and then jumping to a more complicated part, completely changing the melody.

You felt Viktor slowly swinging to the melody, his shoulder bumping into yours as he enjoyed the music. You followed his movements, and the two of you went on playing. He would stop whenever you played a more complicated part, a little laugh coming out of him,

With a final pressing of the keys, the song ended, and you smiled triumphantly at the scientist beside you. He looked down at you; it was noticeable that his cheeks were becoming a pretty shade of red, while his eyes looked at his fingers and then shifted back to you.

Even though you had noticed how you had been closed before, now it dawned on you just how close you two were. You could see the brown flecks in his eyes, the small scar he had on his forehead from the goggles digging into his skin, and his pulse quickly beating on his neck.

You felt a small touch on your little finger and glanced at it, surprised at the sudden contact. His hands had moved, and he was brushing your pinky with his, slowly as if not to scare you. You felt your heart quicken and turned back to face him, eyes wide.

“Should I have asked?” He mumbled slowly, tilting his head down, his brown hair falling from behind his ear. “About?” you let out in a breathy whisper, doing the best you could to keep your eyes from wandering around his face.

He moved his finger to interlock with yours, the corners of his lips tilting up.

 “It’s fine…” And it was. There was no panic or anxiety. There were no urgent or nightmarish visions of hexangels.

Gently he pulled your little fingers towards his hand, adding your ring finger to the weave of hands. You managed to breathe and blink, your eyes unfocusing on his face, waiting for anything to happen. When it didn't, you went back to those golden pools of his.

Viktor looked at you waiting for a protest, but you said nothing. No constructs, no golden enemies. In a moment of boldness, you moved your hand under his and turned your palm up, him giving you the space you needed to do it. When you were comfortable, you slotted your fingers in his. You didn’t squeeze or grab his hand, just letting the weight of him become familiar. 

Much like in your universe, his hands were long and bony, with callouses from using every tool at his disposal. They had a tepid warmth to it, the playing of the piano letting the blood flow to his extremities. 

“My hands are always cold.” He noted, scratching the back of his neck, and you looked at his long fingers on yours. “Should wear some gloves.” You joked, nudging him and squeezing his hand tentatively. “I like this better.” He raised an eyebrow smugly, and you snorted, looking away in fake annoyance. You felt his hand squeeze back and looked back at him. The expression on his face was far from embarrassed; if anything, he knew exactly what he was doing, a loopy side smile plastered on his face. You shook your head, a smile on your own face. “You’re a sneaky one…” “Heh…I do hail from the Undercity." He joked, and you laughed out loud, placing your forehead on his shoulder, feeling him laugh too.

“Viktor!!!” A smooth, hurried voice came from the corridor, and a bouncy Sky Young walked into the cafeteria.  “Miss Young!” He half-shouted back, making his assistant's head snap to him.

He moved your still intertwined hands away from the keys and in between both your bodies. He gave you one last squeeze before letting go.

“Oh…I have been looking for you.”  “I have been here for the last two hours,” he said, stretching in front of you, reaching for his cane. “Sorry. Jayce is with Councillor Medarda, and the door is locked, and Councillor Salo took my key from me and…” She looked at you, her exasperated ramble coming to a halt. “Oh. Hello. Sky Young, a pleasure to meet you!”  “Hello.” You told the younger woman, smiling, and answered with your name. “I thought you two knew each other…” Viktor said, getting up carefully and moving to stand next to his assistant. “I said I’ve seen her around…I never said we had been introduced.” You quickly retorted. “Also, do I need to reschedule the appointment for this morning?” “Ye—” she started, but Viktor interrupted. “No need; we can do it now.” “But their name is on the morning slot.” Young noted, grabbing a small planner. “It’s not their fault we had an inspection on their fault. If anything, the council should be the one to schedule their appointments.” He said with finality and turned around. “Come now, you two. Time to get to work.”

You and Young stared at each other and both shrugged, smiling at each other.

“Thank you, Loriel.” You shouted and waved back at the barista as you walked away from the cafe. “You’re welcome! Come back any time... Seriously!”

• ············ •

“So, you can now combine runes?” Viktor asked, sitting at his table at the lab, writing furiously in his little notebook. “And I’m also starting to…not need to push them out…like…physically.”

The scientist looked at you. You've been sitting here for 40 minutes; 20 of those had been Viktor trying to shoo Sky out of the room.

“Example,” he prompted, and you nodded.

You faced him, the big front doors behind you. You cleared your throat and drew the known string of runes in front of you. Waiting for a second, with your hands by your side, you blinked, and the runes disappeared. The door behind you whooshed open.

“That’s new.” Viktor’s eyebrows shot up. “Can you reverse it?” “I can close the door, but not lock it.”

His eyebrows furrowed and his jaw clenched. He started to go back through the notebook, getting to the pages where you were both annotating the runes and suffixes.

You walked towards him and leaned into his table, looking at the notebook. You had feared that after the little moment at the piano, the rest of the evening would be awkward, but no. He hadn’t mentioned it, but he wasn’t tiptoeing around you. It was just good old Viktor.

“You’ve never shown me this rune.” He pointed to the mend rune with his pencil and looked up at you. “Technically, you've seen it. But I can show you again. May I?” 

You pointed to his purple-colored pencil, and he gave it to you with a doubtful expression. With a bit of force, you snapped the pencil in two, and he groaned.

“Please do not break my writing utensils. I really don’t want to explain to the council why I need to buy more colored pencils…It’s already a hassle as it is.” He swiveled the stool to turn to the table where you placed the pencil. “They apparently don’t understand the concept of color coding.”

You snorted while drawing the rune. The small tendrils that came out of it searched the pencil for where it was broken and joined it, making it whole again. The only trace of something happening was the shimmering blue vein where it was snapped.

“Fascinating…” He grabbed the pencil and inspected it from every angle. “Have you tried this with a bone?”

Blinking slowly at him, you squinted your eyes and furrowed your eyebrows, the doubt he had previously now written on your face. 

“What?” “A bone.” He shook his arm to demonstrate.  “You want to break some for me to try?” You retorted sarcastically, but the thoughtful look on his face made you shake your head. “No…I have not tried it in a bone. I haven't encountered a broken bone to try it on, and you will not provide me with some.” “Oh no…not mine.” He made a few swirls with the pencil on the notebook, finding out it worked just like before.  “Whose bones are you gonna break, stick bug? You’re all length and sharp corners…” 

You crossed your arms, raised one eyebrow, and leaned into the table with your hip, your face bearing a mask of doubt. His expression shifted to unamused, his lip pinched and his eyebrows knotted. 

“First of all…stick bug?” He spat the word out comically, and you laughed, nodding. “Second of all, some bones can be easily broken by applying pressure in certain key points. No need for brute strength.”

“Yeah? And how many bones have you broken, Mr. Applied Pressure… you joked, shifting to sit on the table. “Several, actually…” “Yours don’t count…”

Viktor opened his mouth to argue but closed it with a humph, turning away from you. You snorted at his spoiled expression.

“How many have you broken? all talk, I bet..." He mumbled, turning the stool fully towards the table. “Several, actually... and not mine either.”

You thought of those last few hours on your timeline, grunting and fighting. Violet had given you some sort of lesson on what she called ‘blocking with your face’ that somehow involved not just that but also punching, kicking, and general shit talk. 

You missed Vi. The one that chuckled when you talked back to her. The Vi that had looked at you weirdly when you asked her to punch you because you needed to know how it felt and not be scared of it. The undercity fighter, who looked impressed when you managed to punch her after dodging a blow.

“The music schools where you come from are very competitive…” Viktor’s voice snapped you back to the lab. He frowned when he looked at you, his expression shifting from annoyance to concern. “Are you alright?” “Yes… Sorry…” You cleared your throat. “If we find someone with a broken bone and willing, we’ll try it on them.” “I guess we can do that…” He flipped the book back to the page where he had taken notes. “You should use that rune to lock the door.” “The lock is not broken, though.”  “True…but I think we may need to go in a more…symbolic route. The pencil, after you mended it, reverted to its original form. In if core, that’s what the mend rune does when spoken.” “So I'd be reverting the unlocked door back to its original state." You mused, and he nodded. He patted your knee and pointed to the door, encouraging you to try it.

Still sitting on the desk, you spoke the runes: wind, coda, mend, unlock. In a second the door drifted closed, the door locking with a click. 

You looked at Viktor, who had a winning smile on his face.

“This stick bug seems to be pretty good at this magic thing.” He swiveled his stool back around to turn to write his findings.

With a swish of your finger, his little wheeled bench rolled back away from its original location, while he made a squeaky surprised sound with his throat.

“That is not fair.” He said, pushing the stool back with his feet. "I thought you hailed from the Undercity." You joked, getting up from your sitting place and going behind him to gently push back to the table. "Yes, I do." He said proudly.

You squeezed his shoulders and turned to walk away, unlocking the door with a flick of your finger.

“Where are you going?” He inquired, turning to watch you walk away. “Mother is expecting me.” You walked backward, looking at him and smiling. “Some sort of dinner celebration, event…I don’t know…I just know that I am now obliged to be there, but here…”

With another flick of the wrist, the ceiling above his head became filled with little shimmering stars.

“To keep you company…” You finished with a wink and walked out the door.

You didn’t hear the happy sigh Viktor gave as he looked up at the soft, shimmering lights. And you didn’t see him placing his notebook on the table, walking to the couch, and just staring contently at the little starlight you manifested in the ceiling while gently stroking his palm, remembering how it felt against yours.

• ············ •

The smile on your face as you made your way to the elevator was cut short when the thing pinged open.

Rictus stood, eyebrow raised, staring at you from inside the empty elevator.

• ········��··· • ············ •

@marshy-moo @victormydarling @blueesmiski @th3stup1dcat @22carolina08 @httpstes @that-one-shitty-blog @disa-pointment @sseleniaa @moons-lighttrail @aysluxe @fae-doodle @kitewa @local-mr-frog @bakusquadobsessed @cherry-cola-100 @optimistic-but-very-realistic @seeksrsnn @thecordelialetters @notsaelty @lansy-4 @ayupfrogg @sammypotato @wnbrw @lucycarlisleswife @noxturnalmoth @ren-ren23 @furblrwurblr @kapitankarate @mynicknameisgasoline @octo-octopie @birbwithhat @kneelarmhstrung @dedicated2viktor @elvishstudies

[iichfilwypj]

HII how are youu? I was just wondering if you could maybe write a part 2 of the "love at first sight" fic you just wrote! Its soo good but honestly it's fine if you cant :)

remember to drink water 💙

love at first sight? ² | percy jackson

part 1 ღ percy jackson x daughter of aphrodite! reader ღ warnings: a lot of tension!!! it gets a bit sexual but not that much i promise! no smut or anything,, ღ wc: 1.137 hii! i'm so late, but i hope you like it! sorry if you were expecting something else, i really didn't know how this could end except like this! i love u!

While waiting, Percy’s mind raced with possibilities. 

He pictured her stepping through the branches, as stunning as before, offering her name, and maybe even a kiss. 

Although, maybe the kiss was too much; a simple hand shake would suffice.

But then, doubts crept in—she might ghost him, turn out to be some monster trying to kill him, or show up with someone else.

The distant rustle of leaves drew his attention, one hand going to his pocket—for his new sword—and the other messing with his hair—to make sure it looked decent; you know, just in case.

Riptide remained untouched. A slender hand appeared, pushing them aside with ease to reveal what he had been waiting for. 

And she looked even more breathtaking than before. 

Her hair wasn’t all down anymore; half of it was tied up, a pink bow in it. Her cheeks were still adorned with the same soft pink flush, that shade that never seemed to fade. Her long lashes framed her eyes, and her lips—God, there was no doubt that some makeup had made them look perfect, so kissable.

Percy couldn’t help but swallow hard, his breath hitching.

“Hi, Percy,” She drew closer, stopping directly in front of him and simply gazing at him.

His heart hammered in his chest. He was intimidated—he had no clue what to do. He’d never been in this situation with such a beautiful girl.

But at that moment, a thought struck him. 

Who cares? I’m a God’s son; things can’t possibly go that wrong.

So his serious expression melted away, and he grinned—sideways and confident. His gaze sharpened with a renewed sense of purpose.

“Hey,” He answered, voice taking on a teasing edge as he took a step forward. The air around him seemed to shift as her perfume surrounded him. 

Gently, he brought his hand up to her shoulder, his fingers almost trembling as they touched the fabric of her shirt, and, with the same softness, he swept a lock of hair away.

His smile grew just a little more as he felt the delicate flutter of her response, a tiny shift in her posture at his touch.

“Are you going to tell me your name, or are we keeping up the mystery?” Percy asked, his grin playful.

Hell, she was taken aback.

Just a few hours ago, he had seemed so lost, confused about what was happening, and clearly intimidated by her. She was used to that, but now, things felt completely different.

He was gorgeous, his dark hair casual and his face something straight out of a movie. His green eyes held her attention, captivating in a way that was hard to ignore.

The shift in his confidence left her more than a little intrigued.

And she was always prepared for any challenge that might come.

Her name slipped from her lips, and Percy felt a sense of awe. It was the most beautiful name he’d ever heard, and somehow, he knew he wouldn’t forget it anytime soon.

“So, Percy, where’d you go? I didn’t see you at dinner,” She asked, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the bracelet on her wrist.

“Oh, a lot; camp’s a total blast.” Percy said with a grin, enjoying the irony.

“Really? You didn’t seem bored with me,” she raised an eyebrow.

“I said camp was boring, not you.” 

Her head tilted playfully. “You're cute, Percy,” She laughed.

And just like that, Percy spotted it: a faint, subtle kiss mark resting on her high cheekbone.

With that, it all fell into place; her way of speaking, each of her movements filled with allure, and the undeniable aura that surrounded her—making it obvious that anyone who got to gaze at her had already won the greatest reward.

And that would likely be the only privilege they’d ever have.

She had to be a daughter of Aphrodite.

“D'you figure something out, pretty boy?” Her voice snapped him back to the moment.

“Maybe,” He replied, leaning in slightly. “But I’m still figuring you out.”

The air in that hidden space became incredibly heavy, holding the intense tension that hung between them. 

She had no intention of taking the first move. Her eyes were fixed on his, looking for that sign of desperation she needed to find. Her hands trembled with anticipation, picturing what could come next as she noticed a trace of lust in his green eyes.

Percy quickly grasped the situation. If he wanted anything to happen, he had to be the one to start. He had fallen into her game, but he had gone too far to turn back now.

Too far to lose it.

“Something's telling me I shouldn’t be here, that I should walk away,” He murmured, his hand lifting to gently trace the line of her jaw. “But I think I’m willing to find out.”

“Oh, you sound brave,” She whispered, her hands exploring his chest, testing the waters. “Or maybe you are just reckless,”

“I guess that depends on what comes next.” Percy replied, his eyes glinting with determination.

His hands moved to her neck, holding it tenderly and never breaking eye contact. It was like a contest—each of them daring the other to break first.

“And what do you want to happen next, Percy?” She shivered slightly under his touch, but didn’t pull away. 

“I want to see if you're as fearless as you act.”

As he whispered the words in her ear, her lips parted for just a second; the faintest invitation. Percy couldn’t resist it, closing the distance between them in one swift motion.

As soon as their lips met, their bodies took over, deciding for them. His hands moved to her hair, hers to his biceps. Her nails scratched the skin and he could only push her against the large trunk of the tree, the wood scraping softly her skin as he lifted her.

Percy’s fingers skimmed the edges of her orange t-shirt, feeling the heat of her skin beneath his fingertips. His pulse raced as he felt her legs squeeze his waist and pulled her even closer, feeling the tremble of her chest against his own, the weight of her closeness making his head spin.

She was the first to pull back, lips brushing his lightly before she tilted her head back to rest against the wood. He couldn't stop, pressing soft kisses everywhere he could.

“Wait,” She said, making him tilt his head, slowing down his movements to listen. “Nobody is gonna get jealous, right?”

Last thing she wanted was to kiss a taken guy; there are some limits, y'know.

He smiled, amused. “Don’t make me laugh,”

Her fingers, light as a whisper, traced the line of his jaw, and in that moment, time seemed to stretch. He could feel himself losing control. Her proximity was both a dream and a nightmare.

But her laughter was like music to his ears, and Percy found himself smiling more than he expected. 

“You even have a pretty laugh,” He remarked, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

She raised an eyebrow, a bit surprised by his words. She’d expected something more physical, something a little more bold, but this caught her off guard. She liked it, it was just weird.

“Do you know what you’re getting into?” Her challenge hung in the air, daring him to prove that he was more than just a guy caught up in the moment. “Do you want to?”

But for him it wasn't a challenge, it was what he wanted. Percy held her gaze, something in him shifting, the tone in her voice mixing with a vulnerability he hadn't expected.

His chest tightened as he realized how much he wished to take that step—to cross that line, to get lost in her world.

In any way he could, in any way she’d let him.

He not only wanted to worship her, but to love her.

“Yes, I want to,” Percy said, pecking her cheekbone, right over the kiss mark. “It was love at first sight, I’m not letting you go anywhere now,”

LOVE I'M SO SORRY! this request has been in my inbox for A MONTH! i hope you like it! <3

[lowdownlolo]

꧁✬◦°⋆⋆°◦. 𝒽ℯ 𝓈𝒶𝓎𝓈, 𝓈𝒽ℯ 𝓈𝒶𝓎𝓈 | ℊℯℴ𝓇ℊℯ 𝓌ℯ𝒶𝓈𝓁ℯ𝓎 ◦°⋆⋆°◦✬꧂

𝐬𝐮𝐦: 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭? 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚? 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐢𝐭?

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐬, 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬/𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐬, 𝟐 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚, 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐯 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞!!

𝐥𝐨 𝐥𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬: 𝐡𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬! 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐬𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢’𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭! 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲!! 💋💖

You were leaning against the wall in the Gryffindor common room, a half-finished essay on your lap. Across the room, George Weasley was sitting with Fred, laughing over something they were planning. His laugh was loud and infectious, and despite your best efforts, you found yourself smiling.

“You’re staring,” your best friend nudged you, her tone teasing.

“I am not!” you protested, quickly looking back at your parchment.

“Sure,” she said with a smirk. “You’ve only rewritten that same sentence three times while looking at him. It’s fine, though. He’s cute.”

You risked another glance at George and found him already looking at you. Your eyes locked for a split second before he quickly turned back to Fred, but not before you caught the faintest hint of a blush on his cheeks.

Little did you know, George was having a similar conversation with his twin.

“You’ve got it bad, mate,” Fred teased, clapping him on the back.

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” George said, though his eyes betrayed him, flicking back to where you sat.

Fred smirked knowingly. “Well, either do something about it or stop acting like a lovesick puppy. It’s getting embarrassing.”

The next few days were filled with more stolen glances and awkward smiles. George would go out of his way to sit near you in the Great Hall, and you started “accidentally” running into him between classes. It was unspoken, but the spark between you two was undeniable.

One sunny Saturday morning, you were sitting by the lake with your best friend, chatting about nothing in particular, when she suddenly said, “You know, George flirts with everyone. It’s just his thing.”

You frowned, her words hitting you harder than you expected. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, he’s a charmer. Don’t take it personally if he’s just having fun.”

The thought lingered, casting doubt over every interaction you’d had with George. Had you misread everything?

Meanwhile, in the common room, Fred was stirring up his own chaos.

“You know, she said she thinks you’re immature,” Fred said casually, as George tried to figure out the best way to approach you.

George froze. “What?”

“I overheard her telling her friend. Something about how your pranks are a bit much.”

Fred didn’t think much of it, but to George, it felt like a punch to the gut. All the moments he’d spent trying to impress you suddenly felt foolish.

When you and George crossed paths that evening, the air between you was colder. You smiled tentatively at him, but he barely acknowledged you. Stung, you decided to match his energy.

It started small. You stopped saying hello in the hallways, and he stopped going out of his way to sit near you in the Great Hall. Then, the pranks began.

One morning, you woke up to find your bag filled with Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. By the time you fished everything out, you were late for class and covered in soot.

That evening, George opened his Charms textbook to find all the pages enchanted to sing “God Save the Queen” whenever he tried to read them. Fred was doubled over with laughter as George glared at the book.

“Oh, this is war,” he muttered.

The pranks escalated. You hexed his broomstick so it would turn upside down mid-air during Quidditch practice, and he charmed your quill to write nothing but embarrassing poems about him during class. Everyone in Gryffindor was talking about the rivalry, and Fred was thoroughly over it.

The Gryffindor common room was buzzing with excitement after a Quidditch victory when Fred decided enough was enough. He dragged you and George into an empty broom cupboard and locked the door.

“What the—Fred!” you yelled, pounding on the door.

“Sort it out, you two!” Fred’s voice called from the other side. “And don’t come out until you’ve stopped being idiots!”

You turned to find George standing stiffly on the other side of the small space, arms crossed.

“Well, this is just perfect,” he muttered.

“You think I want to be stuck in here with you?” you snapped.

The tension was thick, but after a few moments of silence, George sighed. “Look, I don’t know what your problem is with me, but—”

“My problem?” you interrupted, glaring at him. “You’re the one who started ignoring me out of nowhere!”

He stared at you, confused. “You’re the one who thinks I’m immature.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Fred told me you said—”

“Wait.” You cut him off, realization dawning. “My friend told me you flirt with everyone and that I shouldn’t take you seriously.”

There was a long pause as the pieces fell into place. Then, George let out a laugh, shaking his head. “Fred. Of course.”

You couldn’t help but laugh too, though it was tinged with frustration. “And my friend. Unbelievable.”

“So…” George rubbed the back of his neck, looking suddenly shy. “You don’t think I’m immature?”

“And you’re not just toying with me?”

“No,” he said firmly, stepping closer. “I’ve liked you for ages. And I was too much of a coward to say anything.”

You felt your cheeks heat up. “Me too. I mean, I like you too.”

A slow grin spread across his face. “Oh.”

When Fred finally unlocked the door, you and George emerged with matching grins. The tension was completely gone, replaced by something warmer and lighter.

Fred took one look at you both and groaned. “Finally!”

George threw an arm around your shoulders, his touch casual but protective. “Well, thanks for the help, mate.”

Fred raised an eyebrow. “Help? I locked you in a cupboard!”

“And it worked,” George said, grinning.

From that day on, the pranks stopped—or rather, they turned into a collaboration. You and George were inseparable, your playful banter taking on a softer edge. And every so often, when Fred saw you two stealing a kiss behind the shelves in the library, he’d shake his head and mutter, “About time..”

taglist: @wingyattium @georgeplease @kisses4fred

[enhasntty]

Swish, I'm in Love - NRK

pairing: nishimura riki x f!reader summary: Riki Nishimura, a cocky basketball star, falls for the quiet girl who ignores his charm. Through hilarious missteps and awkward confessions, he fumbles his way into her heart. warnings: Kissing, Riki's friends make jokes that some people may be sensitive to, Riki tries flirting (a lot) but fails most of the time. genre: Fluff, Highschool romance wc: 19124 note: let me know if I missed any warnings likes and reblogs are very much appreciated

The Encounter

The hallway was its usual self-chaotic and buzzing with the chatter of students heading to their next class. You were walking at your usual pace, headphones in, deep in thought as you mentally prepared for the day ahead. The last thing you expected was to be caught in a collision of bodies in the middle of the hallway.

“Whoa!”

You bumped into someone, sending a few papers flying out of your bag. You quickly bent down to pick them up, not even bothering to glance up at the person you’d collided with. You were more focused on saving your notes than on apologizing for the accidental bump.

“Hey, you good?” came a familiar voice, filled with that cocky tone you knew all too well.

It was Riki, the basketball star everyone fawned over. His voice had this self-assuredness to it, and judging by the reactions of others whenever he walked down the hall, he had a reputation. He was the guy who always had a crowd of people around him, but you couldn’t care less.

You nodded, as you continued picking up the papers. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just, uh, careful next time.”

Riki blinked, clearly thrown off. Most people would’ve been all over him-squealing, apologizing, or even blushing. But you? You just acted like nothing happened. Like he wasn’t some godsend the school adored.

As you finished gathering your papers, you glanced up at him for the first time. And when you did, you gave him a small, casual smile-just enough to acknowledge him without making it anything special.

It wasn’t a flirtatious smile. It wasn’t anything overly friendly either. It was just… a smile. But to Riki, it was as if the world had slowed down. He felt his chest tighten and his mind race.

He swallowed.

“Whoa,” he muttered under his breath, staring at you. “Did she just… smile at me?”

His friends had started walking up behind him, no doubt noticing the intensity in his gaze. They all exchanged a few confused glances as they watched Riki stand there, practically frozen.

“Bro,” Jay called out, breaking his trance. “You alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Riki shook his head, trying to snap out of it, but the image of your smile was burned into his mind. He turned to his friends and said, “No, no. You don’t get it. That smile… it was different. It was the one. It’s-” He paused, trying to get his words together. “It’s like love at first sight.”

His friends stared at him, deadpan.

“What?” Jake asked, narrowing his eyes. “You’re serious? Dude, you’re delusional.”

“No, listen,” Riki continued, now pacing, clearly ignoring their sarcasm. “She didn’t act like every other girl. She didn’t freak out or go all blushy when she saw me. She didn’t act starstruck. She’s different. She gets me.”

Heeseung rubbed his temples. “Bro, you’re definitely on something. You ran into her, and she just gave you a smile. That’s not love at first sight, that’s just you being dramatic.”

Riki wasn’t hearing any of it. “No, you don’t understand. I’m telling you, I’m in love with her. And I’m gonna make her my queen.”

Jay snorted. “My queen? Are we in some medieval romance movie now? C’mon, man, be for real.”

But Riki was unwavering. “I’m serious. I’m going to make her fall for me. I just… I know it. She’s the one.”

Sunoo, leaning against the lockers, smirked. “Dude, you’re acting like you just found the Holy Grail or something. She Doesn't even know you.”

Riki waved off their teasing. “Doesn’t matter. I’m going to win her over. You’ll see.”

Meanwhile, you, in the background, had no clue what was happening. You picked up your bag, checked your papers, and continued walking, headphones back in your ears. It wasn’t that you didn’t notice Riki-he was hard to miss-but honestly? You couldn’t have cared less. To you, he was just another student who thought he was the main character of his own movie.

Riki, however, stood there, still in his thoughts. He felt like he’d just witnessed something cosmic. Your smile had done something to him-made him believe, for the first time, that maybe he wasn’t just the guy who could score three-pointers, but that he was capable of… love.

His friends followed him down the hall, still ribbing him for his newfound “obsession.”

“So, what’s the plan now?” Sunghoon asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Are you going to serenade her in the middle of the cafeteria or what?”

Riki smirked, clearly not phased. “You’ll see. I’m going big. She won’t know what hit her. I’m going full king of hearts mode.”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, good luck with that. You’re like the least subtle person I know.”

“Hey,” Riki said, “if I’m gonna go for it, I’m going all in. No half-measures.”

Jay sighed, shaking his head. “This is gonna be a disaster, isn’t it?”

“Probably,” Sunoo added, grinning. “But I’ll be here for the show.”

As Riki walked away, a small, satisfied grin spread across his face. He was sure of it. There was no way a girl like you would be able to resist him for long. After all, he had that charm. And if there was one thing Riki knew, it was how to get what he wanted.

Meanwhile, you made your way to your next class, completely unaware of Riki’s newfound mission-a mission he was about to turn into the most entertaining disaster of your high school life.

The Obsession Begins

At school, Riki spotted you by your locker again, headphones on as usual. He adjusted his backpack, ran a hand through his hair, and sauntered over like he hadn’t spent the entire morning rehearsing what to say.

“Hey.”

You didn’t look up.

Riki cleared his throat. “Hey,” he said louder, leaning against the lockers in what he hoped was a cool, casual way.

You finally glanced up, pulling one headphone out. “Do you need something?”

Riki’s brain short-circuited. He had spent hours planning a witty response, but all he managed to say was, “Nice book.”

You blinked, looking at the plain black cover of your notebook. “It’s a math textbook.”

“Oh, uh… yeah, I knew that,” Riki said quickly. “I love math. Big fan.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really? What’s the quadratic formula?”

Riki froze.

“Exactly,” you said, putting your headphones back in.

From across the hallway, Heeseung and Jake were watching the exchange unfold.

“He’s crashing and burning,” Jake whispered.

“I give him points for effort,” Heeseung said, shaking his head.

Later that day, Riki’s friends gathered around him during lunch to debrief his latest failure.

“You said you were gonna play it cool,” Jungwon said, popping a grape into his mouth.

“I was playing it cool,” Riki insisted.

“You called her math book ‘nice,’” Sunghoon deadpanned.

Jake nearly spit out his drink. “You really told her you’re a math fan? Bro, even I know that’s a red flag.”

“It’s not a red flag!” Riki said defensively. “I just panicked.”

Sunoo smirked. “I think she has the mental upper hand, and you don’t know how to deal with it.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means you’re whipped, and she doesn’t even know it,” Heeseung said, patting him on the back.

Riki buried his face in his hands. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Oh, we’re way past embarrassing,” Sunoo said. “But don’t worry, we’re here to make sure you keep embarrassing yourself.”

“Supportive as ever,” Riki muttered.

Meanwhile, at your table, your friends were having a very different conversation.

“Riki was staring at you this morning,” Julie said, doodling on her notebook.

“I think he was trying to flirt,” Karina added, scrolling through her phone.

You frowned. “That’s not flirting.”

“Oh, sweetie, it was flirting,” Giselle said, pulling her headphones off. “Awful flirting, but flirting nonetheless.”

“I don’t get it,” you said, biting into your sandwich. “Why would he even bother?”

“Because he’s into you,” Julie said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Into me? He doesn’t even know me.”

“That’s probably why he’s into you,” Karina said with a grin. “You’re, like, the one person in this school who doesn’t worship the ground he walks on. He’s confused, and now he’s spiraling.”

Giselle snorted. “It’s giving ‘golden retriever chasing a cat.’”

“Exactly!” Julie said, clapping her hands. “And you’re the cat.”

“Great. I’m being compared to an animal,” you said dryly.

Karina leaned closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “But admit it. It’s kinda fun watching him squirm, isn’t it?”

You smirked, not bothering to answer.

Riki wasn’t done for the day.

He had a plan-a bold, risky plan that could either win you over or completely backfire.

“Are you sure about this?” Heeseung asked as they stood outside the library.

“Yes,” Riki said firmly, holding up a small folded note. “This is foolproof.”

“Your definition of foolproof worries me,” Jungwon muttered.

“It’s just a note,” Riki said. “How hard can it be?”

The note in question was a piece of lined paper on which Riki had written a short (and in his opinion, very clever) message:

Hey. You dropped this: 🖤

– Riki

The plan was simple. He would walk past you, drop the note on your desk, and walk away like a cool, mysterious guy.

“You look like you’re delivering a ransom letter,” Sunoo said as they watched him sneak into the library.

“Shut up,” Riki hissed.

You were sitting at a table in the back of the library, headphones on, completely absorbed in your book. Riki took a deep breath, walked up to your table, and slid the note across to you.

Then, instead of walking away like he planned, he froze.

You looked up, noticing him standing there. Slowly, you picked up the note and read it.

“You dropped this?” you said, holding up the paper.

“Uh… yeah,” Riki said.

“I was sitting here the whole time.”

“Oh, uh, right. I meant to say I dropped it. And you… picked it up. Metaphorically.”

You squinted at him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m great,” Riki said, his voice cracking.

You glanced at the note again. “What does this even mean?”

“It means, uh…” Riki paused, searching for an explanation. “It means… you’re cool. Like, you dropped your coolness, and I wanted to give it back to you.”

Your lips twitched as if you were trying not to laugh. “Right.”

“I’ll just… go now,” Riki said, turning on his heel and speed-walking out of the library.

“What happened?” Sunghoon asked when Riki returned to his friends.

“She didn’t laugh me out of the room, so… progress?” Riki said.

Sunoo shook his head. “You’re like a baby giraffe trying to learn how to walk.”

Back in the library, you were still holding the note, a small smile tugging at your lips. You didn’t know what Riki was trying to do, but you had to admit-it was kind of amusing.

And maybe, just maybe, a little endearing.

The Unintended Slip

Riki wasn’t one to give up easily. Sure, you’d shot him down twice now, but in his mind, that just meant he needed to step up his game. If you weren’t going to swoon over his basketball skills or mysterious notes, he’d have to get creative.

Enter: Operation Study Buddy.

Riki barged into the cafeteria, plopping down at the usual table where his friends were mid-meal. “Okay, guys, I need a new strategy.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “You’re talking like this is a business pitch.”

“It is a business pitch-except instead of closing a deal, I’m closing the distance to her heart,” Riki said, dramatically clutching his chest.

Jake nearly choked on his water. “Did you actually just say that?”

“Focus, guys,” Riki said, leaning forward. “She’s smart, right? Always reading or doing something intellectual. So, I’m gonna ask her to help me study for our next math quiz.”

“Bold move, considering you thought the quadratic formula was a type of shampoo,” Sunoo said, smirking.

“Hey, everyone struggles in their own way!” Riki shot back.

Heeseung leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “You think she’ll buy it?”

“She will,” Riki said confidently. Then, after a pause: “I just need to act dumb enough that she won’t suspect anything.”

Jungwon snorted. “That won’t be acting.”

By the time math class rolled around, Riki was ready. He spotted you sitting in your usual seat by the window, scribbling in your notebook. Taking a deep breath, he walked over and sat down in the desk next to yours.

You glanced up, eyebrows raised. “You’re sitting here now?”

“Yeah,” Riki said casually. “Thought I’d mix it up. Plus, I, uh… need your help.”

You tilted your head. “With?”

“Math,” he said, trying to look as clueless as possible. “You’re good at it, right?”

You stared at him for a moment, as if deciding whether he was serious. “What’s the problem?”

Riki pulled out his textbook, flipping to a random page. “This. I don’t get it.”

You leaned over to look, and Riki suddenly realized how close you were. He could smell the faint hint of your shampoo, something floral and light, and his brain momentarily short-circuited.

“This is literally multiplication,” you said, snapping him out of it.

“Yeah, uh, it’s been a while,” Riki said, scratching the back of his neck. “You know how it is-letters, numbers… it’s confusing.”

You gave him a look. “Riki, the problem is 8 x 9.”

“…Right. And the answer is…” He trailed off, waiting for you to fill in the blank.

You sighed. “72.”

“Of course! That’s what I was gonna say,” Riki said quickly.

You sat back, clearly unimpressed. “Do you actually need help, or is this some kind of elaborate excuse to sit here?”

Riki froze, caught red-handed. “I… uh… well…”

Before he could answer, the teacher walked in, saving him from further embarrassment.

Later that day, Riki regrouped with his friends.

“She saw right through me,” he groaned, slumping against his locker.

“To be fair, your acting skills are about as subtle as a neon sign,” Jake said.

“I’m starting to think she’s too smart for me,” Riki admitted.

Sunoo snickered. “Oh, we’ve all been thinking that.”

“Shut up,” Riki muttered.

“You just need to find something that’ll catch her off guard,” Jungwon suggested.

“Like what?”

Sunghoon smirked. “I don’t know, man. Maybe stop being so obvious. Or at least try to flirt without sounding like a confused toddler.”

“I’m great at flirting!” Riki protested.

“Are you, though?” Heeseung said, raising an eyebrow.

Riki rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine. What do you suggest?”

“Say something bold. Catch her attention,” Jake said. “Like, I don’t know-‘Hey, do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?’”

“That’s cheesy as hell,” Sunoo said, wrinkling his nose.

“But it’s memorable,” Jake argued.

“I’m not using a pick-up line,” Riki said firmly.

“Then what?” Sunghoon asked.

“I’ll figure it out,” Riki said, though he wasn’t entirely sure he believed himself.

The next day, Riki decided to go for a different approach: casual conversation.

He spotted you in the library during lunch, headphones on as usual. Steeling himself, he walked over and sat across from you.

You looked up, surprised. “Do you not have friends to eat with?”

Riki grinned. “I do, but I figured I’d grace you with my company today.”

“How generous,” you said dryly.

“So, what are you working on?” he asked, leaning forward.

“An essay,” you said simply, turning back to your laptop.

“What’s it about?”

“Why sitting across from loud basketball players is a distraction,” you deadpanned.

Riki laughed, leaning back in his chair. “You’re funny, you know that?”

“I wasn’t joking,” you said, though there was a hint of amusement in your tone.

He rested his chin on his hand, studying you. “Do you ever smile?”

You looked up again, raising an eyebrow. “Do you ever stop talking?”

“Not really,” Riki admitted, grinning.

You sighed, shaking your head. “Why are you even here?”

“I like talking to you,” he said honestly.

You blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Why?”

“Because you’re different,” Riki said with a shrug. “You don’t laugh at my jokes or pretend to be impressed by everything I do. It’s refreshing.”

You stared at him for a moment, then went back to your essay. “Well, if you’re going to sit here, at least be quiet.”

“Can’t promise that,” Riki said, smirking.

When Riki returned to his friends later, he was in a suspiciously good mood.

“Did something happen?” Heeseung asked.

“Yeah,” Riki said, grinning. “I think I made progress.”

Sunoo rolled his eyes. “You mean you annoyed her until she gave up?”

“No, I had a real conversation with her,” Riki said.

“What’d you talk about?” Jake asked.

“Mostly how much I talk,” Riki admitted.

“So… nothing?” Sunghoon said.

“Hey, it’s progress,” Riki said defensively. “She didn’t tell me to leave.”

“That’s the bar now?” Sunoo said, smirking.

“Baby steps,” Riki said, leaning back with a satisfied smile.

Back at your table, your friends were equally curious.

“So, what’s the deal with Riki sitting with you in the library?” Karina asked, leaning across the table.

“Yeah, did he say something dumb again?” Giselle added.

You shrugged. “He said he likes talking to me.”

Julie gasped. “That’s so cute!”

“It’s weird,” you said, though your tone lacked conviction.

“It’s cute,” Julie insisted.

Karina smirked. “I think he’s growing on you.”

“He’s like a mosquito,” you muttered. “Annoying but persistent.”

Giselle snorted. “Yeah, but at least this mosquito is kind of hot.”

“Kind of?” Julie said, giggling. “He’s basically everyone’s crush.”

“Not mine,” you said quickly.

“Sure, sure,” Karina said, smirking. “Keep telling yourself that.”

The Art Of Embarrassment

Riki Nishimura was used to being good at things-basketball, charming people, and existing in general. But somehow, you had turned him into a walking disaster. It was like his brain short-circuited every time you were in a five-foot radius.

Today, he decided he would try something new. No elaborate plans. No fake study sessions. Just pure, unfiltered Riki.

Spoiler alert: it was a terrible idea.

It started in the cafeteria during lunch. You were sitting with your friends as usual, laughing at something Julie said. Riki watched from across the room, trying to figure out how to approach you.

“Dude, stop staring,” Jake said, nudging him.

“I’m not staring,” Riki said, not breaking eye contact.

“You’ve been staring so hard I’m surprised she hasn’t felt it and filed a restraining order,” Sunghoon said, biting into his sandwich.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” Riki said, ignoring them. “I’m gonna walk up to her table and just… talk. Like a normal person.”

Sunoo snorted. “You? A normal person? Bold of you to assume.”

Riki stood up, ignoring the chorus of snickers from his friends. He was determined.

But as he crossed the cafeteria, disaster struck.

He was walking past a table when someone stuck their leg out, probably as a joke. Riki didn’t see it until it was too late.

One moment, he was confidently striding toward you. The next, he was flat on the floor, his tray of food flying into the air in a perfect arc.

It all happened in slow motion. His spaghetti landed directly on his head, and his juice spilled all over his shirt. A chorus of gasps and laughter erupted around the cafeteria.

“Oh my God,” Sunoo whispered from their table, already pulling out his phone.

Riki scrambled to his feet, spaghetti dangling off his hair like some cursed garnish. He looked around, his face burning, only to see you staring at him with wide eyes.

For a moment, the entire cafeteria was silent. Then, someone from the back shouted, “Nice save, bro!” and the laughter resumed.

Riki grabbed a napkin, trying to salvage what was left of his dignity. “It’s fine! Totally fine!” he said, though his voice cracked halfway through.

You, to his utter shock, were trying not to laugh. You hid your smile behind your hand, but he caught it. And even though he was mortified, he felt a tiny spark of triumph.

“Legendary,” Heeseung said later, slapping Riki on the back as they regrouped in the locker room.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Riki muttered, throwing his juice-stained shirt into his locker.

“Bro, you’re trending on Snapchat,” Jake said, holding up his phone.

Riki groaned. “I hate all of you.”

“To be fair, it’s not our fault you fell like a cartoon character,” Sunoo said, smirking.

“Shut up,” Riki snapped. “At least she laughed.”

“She laughed at you,” Jungwon corrected.

“Still counts,” Riki said stubbornly.

Meanwhile, you and your friends were dissecting the incident at your table.

“I cannot believe that just happened,” Karina said, wiping tears from her eyes. “He looked like a human spaghetti plate.”

“Poor guy,” Julie said, though she was smiling too. “He’s never gonna live that down.”

Giselle smirked. “He’s got balls, though. I mean, he still tried to act cool after all that.”

You shook your head, still amused. “He’s persistent, I’ll give him that.”

Karina leaned closer, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “You’re kind of enjoying this, aren’t you?”

You shrugged, but you couldn’t deny it. Something about Riki’s clumsy attempts to get your attention was… endearing.

Later that day, Riki decided to try again. He wasn’t going to let one humiliating moment define him. He spotted you by your locker and mustered up all the courage he had left.

“Hey,” he said, leaning casually against the locker next to yours.

You looked up, immediately noticing the faint red stain on his shirt. “You missed a spot.”

Riki glanced down, groaning. “Oh, come on. I thought I got it all.”

You chuckled softly, and he felt his heart skip a beat.

“So, uh, about earlier…” he started, rubbing the back of his neck.

“What about it?” you asked, closing your locker.

“That wasn’t, like, my best moment,” he admitted.

“No kidding,” you said, smirking.

Riki grinned, appreciating your bluntness. “But, you know, I think it’s a sign.”

“A sign of what?”

“That we’re destined to be friends,” he said, winking.

You rolled your eyes. “Destined, huh? Is that what you’re calling it?”

“Absolutely,” Riki said, leaning closer. “You can’t fight fate, you know.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that your way of saying you’re going to keep bothering me?”

“Pretty much,” Riki admitted, grinning.

You shook your head, but you couldn’t hide the small smile on your lips. “Fine. But if you trip and fall again, I’m not helping you up.”

“Deal,” Riki said, his grin widening.

Back with his friends, Riki was practically glowing.

“She smiled at me,” he announced, plopping down at their table.

“Are we supposed to clap?” Sunoo said.

“Laugh all you want,” Riki said smugly. “I’m making progress.”

Jake shook his head. “At this rate, you’ll win her over by graduation.”

“That’s the plan,” Riki said, grabbing a fry from Sunghoon’s plate.

Sunghoon smacked his hand away. “If you touch my food again, fate won’t save you.”

“Noted,” Riki said, still smiling.

At your table, Karina was eyeing you suspiciously.

“You’re smiling again,” she said.

“No, I’m not,” you said quickly.

“You totally are,” Julie said. “What did Riki say to you?”

“Nothing important,” you said, though the small smile lingered.

Giselle smirked. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

Karina leaned closer. “Admit it. You think he’s cute.”

“Yeah, like a puppy that keeps running into walls,” you said, but your friends could tell you weren’t entirely joking.

And maybe, just maybe, neither were you.

The Failed Love Letter

Riki Nishimura had a reputation to maintain. Star basketball player, charmingly chaotic, and apparently, a complete disaster when it came to you. After the cafeteria spaghetti fiasco, he decided it was time to go old-school. No elaborate stunts or public humiliation. Just heartfelt honesty in the form of a love letter.

Unfortunately for Riki, heartfelt honesty wasn’t his strong suit.

“‘To the radiant moon of my dull, dark sky…’” Jay read aloud, squinting at the paper in his hand. He looked up, his face scrunched in disbelief. “Riki, what the hell is this?”

“It’s poetic!” Riki said defensively, snatching the paper back.

“It’s something, all right,” Jake chimed in, holding back a laugh. “Are you writing a love letter or auditioning for a Shakespearean play?”

Riki groaned, flopping onto Jay’s bed. “I don’t know, okay? I’m trying to be romantic.”

Jay snorted. “There’s a difference between romantic and… whatever this is.”

“‘The thought of you haunts my every waking moment,’” Jake read over Jay’s shoulder, cackling. “Bro, she’s gonna think you’re a serial killer.”

Riki sat up, glaring at them. “I thought you guys were supposed to be helping me!”

“We are,” Jay said, crossing his arms. “By stopping you from embarrassing yourself even more.”

Jake nodded. “Yeah, no offense, but if you give her this, she’s gonna laugh. Like, a lot.”

Riki groaned again, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. What do you suggest?”

Jay grabbed a pen, sitting down next to him. “For starters, tone it down. You’re not Edward Cullen.”

Jake smirked. “Unless you’re planning to sparkle in the sunlight.”

“Can we focus?” Riki snapped, snatching the pen.

Jay and Jake leaned in, watching as Riki rewrote the letter.

“Okay, how about this: ‘Hey, I just wanted to say you’re really cool, and I like hanging out with you.’”

Jake blinked. “That’s it? That’s boring.”

“Yeah, where’s the charm?” Jay added.

Riki groaned for the third time that afternoon. “I can’t win with you guys!”

The final version of the letter ended up being a mix of dramatic flair and casual sincerity. Riki, satisfied with his work, slipped it into your locker the next morning before anyone could talk him out of it.

Later that day, you found the letter while grabbing your books. The envelope was plain, but your name was written on it in slightly messy handwriting. Curious, you opened it.

“‘To the brightest star in my universe,’” you read quietly to yourself, already stifling a laugh. “‘Every time I see you, my heart does this weird thing-like it’s trying to breakdance but forgot how.’”

You couldn’t help it; a small giggle escaped.

Your friends noticed immediately.

“What’s so funny?” Karina asked, leaning over to look.

You quickly folded the letter and slipped it into your bag. “Nothing.”

“Oh, come on,” Giselle said, smirking. “That smile says it’s definitely something.”

“Who’s it from?” Julie asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“No one important,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant.

But your friends weren’t buying it.

Across the hallway, Riki was watching from a safe distance. He could see you smiling, and though he couldn’t hear what you were saying, he took it as a good sign.

“Dude, she’s laughing,” Sunghoon said, nudging him.

“Yeah, but not in a mean way,” Jake added. “She looks… happy?”

“I told you it was a good idea,” Riki said, grinning.

“Sure, but let’s not forget the part where you almost called her the ‘ethereal goddess of your dreams,’” Jay said, rolling his eyes.

“Details,” Riki said, waving him off.

The next day, Riki was determined to act casual. You hadn’t mentioned the letter, but you didn’t seem mad or weirded out, so he considered that a win.

But of course, his streak of bad luck continued.

During gym class, you and your friends were sitting on the bleachers, watching as the boys played basketball. Riki, eager to impress, decided to show off a little.

Big mistake.

He went for a fancy dunk, leaping high into the air. For a moment, it looked perfect-until his foot slipped on the landing.

He crashed to the floor, arms and legs flailing like a cartoon character. The ball bounced off his head with a loud thunk, and the entire gym erupted into laughter.

From the bleachers, you couldn’t help but laugh too. It was just so… Riki.

He sat up, rubbing his head, and spotted you laughing. Despite the pain and embarrassment, he couldn’t help but smile.

“Smooth,” Sunoo said as he helped Riki up. “Really smooth.”

“Shut up,” Riki muttered, though his cheeks were burning.

Later, you ran into Riki in the hallway.

“Nice fall,” you said, smirking.

Riki groaned. “You saw that, huh?”

“Hard to miss,” you said, your smirk widening. “But it was entertaining.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “Glad I could amuse you.”

You hesitated for a moment, then reached into your bag and pulled out the letter. “By the way, this was… sweet. A little dramatic, but sweet.”

Riki’s eyes widened. “You kept it?”

“Yeah,” you said, shrugging. “It made me laugh. In a good way.”

Riki grinned, his confidence returning. “So, does that mean you like me now?”

You rolled your eyes, though you were smiling. “Don’t push your luck, spaghetti boy.”

As you walked away, Riki couldn’t stop smiling.

The Secret Love Potion

After Riki’s very public fall, his confidence had taken a slight hit, but he wasn’t about to let it stop him. He had come too far-he’d written a love letter (okay, a little over the top), he’d made you laugh (even if it was at his expense), and he’d managed to get a bit of a smile out of you. Progress was being made.

But how could he keep it going? He needed a new plan.

Riki sat at the lunch table with his usual crew: Heeseung, Sunghoon, Sunoo, Jake, and, of course, Jay, who was doing his best to ignore the absurdity of the situation.

“So, what’s the move today, Riki?” Heeseung asked, tapping his chopsticks against the table.

Riki sighed dramatically. “I need to do something big. Something that’ll make her see that I’m… I’m different.”

“You mean not a disaster?” Jake said, smirking.

Riki shot him a look. “Shut up. No. Something romantic. Something that’ll sweep her off her feet.”

“Like a flash mob?” Sunghoon asked, grinning.

“Not that romantic,” Riki said, shaking his head.

Jay raised an eyebrow. “Well, you did write her a letter. You could always, you know, try talking to her next.”

“Yeah, that worked out so well last time,” Riki muttered, thinking about the spaghetti incident.

“Okay, listen.” Sunoo leaned forward, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “I heard from my sister that girls love stuff like flowers and chocolates. So, why not do that?”

Riki looked at him like he’d just suggested he go skydiving without a parachute. “Flowers and chocolates? You’re joking, right?”

“Not at all, bro,” Sunoo said, shaking his head. “It’s classic. You can’t go wrong with that.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Jake said, holding up his hands. “We’re in 2025, not the 1950s.”

“I’m not even trying to say I’m in love with her yet. I’m just trying to get her attention without looking like a complete idiot,” Riki said.

“You sure about that?” Sunghoon asked. “Because you’ve pretty much been a walking disaster in front of her so far.”

Riki gave him a look, but Sunghoon was right. He was already overthinking it. He needed something to make you notice him, something that would stand out, something unique.

And then it hit him.

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait,” Riki said, his eyes lighting up. “What if I make a potion?”

Jay stared at him. “A potion? You mean, like, a love potion?”

“Exactly!” Riki said, his face lighting up. “It’s genius! I’ll make this super mysterious drink with all kinds of weird ingredients, like herbs and… I don’t know, whatever sounds romantic. I’ll hand it to her, and she’ll be so intrigued by it, she’ll have to notice me!”

Sunghoon blinked. “Riki, that’s… the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

But the more Riki thought about it, the more it made sense. This wasn’t just any random bottle of juice-it was going to be a potion. A mysterious potion that no one had ever seen before. He’d make it sound like he was a mad scientist in the kitchen.

“Dude, you’re really setting yourself up for failure,” Jake said, shaking his head.

Riki grinned. “Exactly. I’m going big or going home. It’s all part of the plan. She’ll be so fascinated by me that she’ll have no choice but to fall in love.”

“Is that how this works?” Jay asked, eyeing him skeptically.

“Of course it is!” Riki said, standing up with newfound determination. “I’m going to make the most epic, mysterious potion ever.”

And so, with that, Riki set off on his journey to create what he now believed would be the ultimate love potion.

The next day, Riki arrived at school with a bag full of strange, unidentifiable ingredients. His friends watched as he walked past them, a look of excitement on his face.

“What is that?” Heeseung asked, narrowing his eyes.

Riki grinned. “I’m going to make the perfect potion. This is gonna be legendary.”

“Okay, but you’re not trying to drug her, right?” Jake asked, his voice full of concern.

“What? No! No, it’s just gonna be a weird drink that she won’t be able to resist.”

“You’re really digging yourself into a hole here, dude,” Sunghoon muttered.

During lunch, Riki found you at your usual spot. You were sitting with Karina, Giselle, and Julie, talking about something you all found funny.

Riki tried to act casual as he walked over, though the bag in his hand gave him away.

“Hey,” he said, his voice unnervingly loud. “I’ve got something for you.”

You turned, raising an eyebrow. “What’s this?”

“It’s a potion,” Riki said, grinning like a mad scientist. “A love potion. Totally mysterious. You’ll love it.”

You looked at the bag. “A potion? Really?”

“Yeah!” Riki said, pulling out a small glass bottle that looked like it belonged in a mad scientist’s lab. Inside was a bubbling purple liquid, with what appeared to be floating herbs and glitter.

You tried to hide your amusement. “Uh, okay… What’s it supposed to do?”

“It’ll make you… um… fall in love with me,” Riki said, with far too much enthusiasm.

Your eyes widened. “You want me to drink that?”

“Yeah! It’s totally safe,” he said, though it was clear he had no idea what he’d actually made.

You couldn’t help it. You burst out laughing. “Riki, this is insane.”

But you took the bottle from him anyway. “I’ll take it,” you said with a smile, “but don’t expect me to fall in love with you because of this.”

Riki beamed. “It’s worth a shot, right?”

As you walked away, you tried to hold in your giggles. The potion was definitely the most ridiculous thing Riki had ever done, but it was kind of cute. You could tell he’d put a lot of effort into it-even if it was a total failure.

That afternoon, you showed your friends the bottle, and they all had a good laugh at Riki’s expense.

“I swear, he’s got to be delusional,” Karina said, eyeing the potion. “But, like, in the best way.”

“You should definitely keep it as a souvenir,” Giselle said, raising an eyebrow. “It’ll be hilarious to bring up later.”

Julie smirked. “Maybe you can actually drink it and see what happens.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop smiling.

Meanwhile, Riki sat with his friends, eagerly waiting for any word from you.

“So, uh, did she drink it?” Jake asked.

“No,” Riki said, deflating a little. “But she took it, so that’s something.”

“You’ve got a better chance with her if you just, you know, talk to her like a normal human being,” Heeseung said.

But Riki wasn’t listening. As far as he was concerned, this potion was his ticket to success.

As the day ended, you threw the potion in your bag, secretly touched by Riki’s effort, but fully aware of how ridiculous the whole thing was.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Maybe Riki was a bit of a disaster, but he was also kind of charming in his own, chaotic way.

The Unintentional Date

Riki’s love potion-while the perfect display of his desperation-wasn’t exactly the magical breakthrough he had hoped for. But that didn’t deter him. If anything, he was more determined to win you over, now that he’d officially made a fool of himself.

The next morning, as Riki was heading to class, he saw you at your locker. You were looking through your bag, completely unaware of the impending chaos that was about to unfold.

Riki decided to make his move.

“Hey, you!” he called out, giving his signature awkward-but-trying-to-be-cool grin.

You turned, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, hey, Riki. What’s up?”

“Uh, not much. Just-” He paused for dramatic effect, trying to look calm, but failing miserably. “Just wanted to see how the potion worked for you last night.”

You blinked at him for a moment. “The potion?”

He nodded, his expression too serious for the situation. “Yeah, you know, the love potion.”

You snorted. “Oh right, the one that looks like it came straight out of a mad scientist’s basement?”

Riki winced. “It’s… it’s a special recipe.”

“Oh, I can tell,” you said, trying not to laugh. “I haven’t drunk it yet, but I did keep it as a reminder of how creative you are.”

He smiled, clearly proud of himself. “I knew you’d keep it. You know, it’s a one-of-a-kind potion. It’s got… uh… special ingredients.”

“What kind of ingredients?” you asked, genuinely curious.

Riki looked around nervously, as if trying to remember what he’d actually put in the potion. “Uh, a secret blend of… um… lavender, honey, and… a dash of, like… magic?”

“Magic,” you repeated, deadpan. “That’s totally reassuring.”

“I mean, yeah. Magic is always part of the equation, right?” Riki shrugged, clearly grasping at straws.

Before you could respond, Heeseung appeared behind him. “Riki, you’ve got a huge glob of chocolate syrup on your shirt,” he said, pointing.

Riki glanced down at his shirt in panic. There, right in the center of his chest, was a sticky blotch of chocolate sauce.

“What?!” he exclaimed. “Where did that-”

You couldn’t hold it in any longer. You burst out laughing, and Heeseung did the same.

“Nice,” you said, still laughing. “Looks like you’re really sweeping me off my feet with that shirt.”

Riki groaned, swiping at the mess with his sleeve, only making it worse.

“Did you steal the chocolate syrup from the cafeteria again?” Heeseung asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Shut up, it’s… I’m not stealing!” Riki said, looking utterly defeated.

As if on cue, Sunghoon walked by, shaking his head. “You’re a walking disaster, man.”

“Thanks for the support, guys,” Riki muttered, still trying to wipe the chocolate off.

“Honestly,” you said, trying to stifle your laughter, “I think I’ll just drink the potion now. Maybe it’ll fix your whole ‘hot mess’ thing.”

Riki stared at you in horror. “Wait, what?!”

You flashed him a mischievous grin. “Just kidding. But you do look like you need some kind of miracle.”

Riki looked like he might die on the spot, but somehow, he managed to give you a crooked grin. “Yeah, guess I do.”

Later that day, Riki, still trying to salvage what little dignity he had left, decided to take a different approach. He’d seen the school was having a “Karaoke Night” for the senior class, and he figured that if he could sing something ridiculous in front of everyone-especially you-it would definitely get your attention.

The problem? Riki couldn’t sing. Not even a little bit.

But did that stop him? Absolutely not.

That afternoon, he spent hours researching “romantic songs” on his phone, hoping to pick the one that would absolutely sweep you off your feet. His friend group, of course, was less than supportive.

“You’re really doing this?” Sunghoon asked, facepalming. “Riki, you’re tone-deaf.”

“I’m not tone-deaf,” Riki argued, crossing his arms. “I have an amazing voice. Trust me.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been singing in the shower for years, and we can still hear you across the hall.”

“Yeah, bro. You sound like a cat being strangled,” Sunghoon added.

“Thanks for the confidence boost, guys,” Riki muttered. “But I’m doing this. For her.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Heeseung said, tapping him on the shoulder. “You might need a backup plan… like, a good excuse for why you completely butcher the song.”

Riki grinned. “I’m gonna do this. You’ll see.”

That evening, Karaoke Night arrived, and the gymnasium was buzzing with energy. The lights were dimmed, the stage was set up, and students were taking turns picking songs from the cheesy setlist.

Riki, with a mix of nervousness and determination, stepped up to the mic, the crowd falling silent as he grabbed it with shaky hands. You were sitting with your friends near the back, watching with amused expressions.

“What’s he doing?” Karina asked, eyebrow raised.

“I think he’s about to make a fool of himself,” Giselle said, already bracing for impact.

Julie grinned. “I can’t wait for this.”

Riki adjusted the mic, then announced, “I’m gonna sing ‘I Will Always Love You’ by Whitney Houston.”

The crowd gasped, and you did your best to hold in your laughter.

You could already imagine how this was going to go.

The music started, and Riki-bless his heart-sang the first line with full, unfiltered enthusiasm.

But instead of hitting any of the notes correctly, he sounded like a dying walrus. His voice cracked at all the wrong times, and he missed the high notes entirely. The audience went silent for a moment before everyone burst out laughing.

From the back, you could hear Heeseung shout, “God, Riki, you’ve ruined this song for generations!”

Riki, completely undeterred, kept going. His confidence was through the roof-despite how much of a disaster it was turning into.

“Riki, please,” Sunghoon shouted from the back, “we’re begging you to stop!”

But Riki was in it now. He was not backing down. He finished the song with as much gusto as he could muster, ending with an off-key, completely butchered high note.

The gym erupted into applause-but not for the quality of the performance.

Riki walked off the stage, out of breath, and completely humiliated. He gave a half-hearted wave to the crowd and sat back down at his table.

“I’m going to die,” he muttered, burying his face in his hands.

You couldn’t help yourself. You were laughing so hard that you could barely breathe.

“Nice job, Riki,” you called out, still laughing. “You really… um, sang your heart out.”

He looked up, red-faced and defeated. “Please, just tell me you didn’t think that was horrible.”

You wiped away tears of laughter and gave him a soft smile. “Okay, I’ll be honest. It was awful. But, like, in the best way possible.”

Riki blinked. “What?���

“You know,” you said, shrugging, “it was so bad that it was actually kind of… impressive. Like a car crash you can’t look away from.”

He groaned, slumping in his seat. “I’m never doing that again.”

But you noticed the faintest smile on his face, and for some reason, it made everything feel a little less embarrassing. Maybe there was hope for Riki after all.

Riki's Poetic Disaster

The classroom buzzed with the sound of chairs scraping the floor and low murmurs as your small poetry club prepared for its weekly meeting. You sat in your usual spot, notebook open, fingers lightly tapping your pen as you waited for your turn to present. It was your favorite place, a peaceful escape from the chaos of school.

That peace, however, was shattered when the classroom door burst open.

Riki swaggered in like he was about to perform at a sold-out stadium, not join a poetry club meeting. His varsity jacket was slung over his shoulder, and he looked around the room with a grin that screamed I’m about to change your life.

Giselle leaned over to whisper in your ear, “Oh no. He’s Shakespeare-ing his way into embarrassment, I can feel it.”

You sighed, bracing yourself. “What is he doing here?”

Riki spotted you and immediately lit up like a neon sign. “Yo!” he called, waving with both hands as though you were on opposite ends of a football field. “This the poetry thing?”

The entire room turned to look at him, a mix of amusement and disbelief on their faces. After all, Riki had once loudly declared in English class that “books are just fancy napkins with words” and “poetry is for sad people with nothing better to do.”

“Yep, he’s officially lost it,” Karina muttered from the other side of the room.

Riki walked up to the front of the room, all confident. “Hey, uh, I’m Riki. Some of you might know me as the star of our basketball team-no autographs, please. But today, I’m here to…uh, you know, embrace art and stuff.”

You blinked. “Why are you here?”

He winked. “I’m here to support you, obviously. And, uh, to share my gift with the world.”

“Your…gift?”

“Yeah,” Riki said, completely serious. “Poetry. I wrote a poem. It’s deep. You’re gonna love it.”

The club stared at him, stunned. Finally, the president of the club, a quiet senior named Mina, gestured for him to go ahead. “Well…we’d love to hear it.”

Riki cleared his throat, pulling a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. He unfolded it with the precision of someone unveiling the Mona Lisa.

“This,” he began, “is called ‘Love is Like Basketball.’”

Giselle buried her face in her hands. Karina groaned audibly.

Riki began, his voice overly dramatic and far too loud for the small room:

“Love is like basketball.

You gotta dribble through life,

but sometimes…

the ball hits you in the face.

And that ball?

That’s you.

You’re the ball.

And I’m…the player.”

Sunoo, who had somehow slipped into the back of the room to spectate, muttered, “This is physically painful.”

Riki continued, oblivious:

“I shoot my shot,

and sometimes I miss.

But then I rebound,

because love is all about…

rebounds.

Also, you’re hot like the sun,

but cool like water.

And that’s why I like you.

End poem.”

The room was dead silent. Somewhere outside, a bird squawked, as if protesting the tragedy that had just unfolded.

Giselle whispered, “I’m in physical pain. I think I’m getting secondhand embarrassment hives.”

Riki, completely unaware, smiled proudly and folded his paper. “What’d you think?” he asked, looking directly at you.

You blinked at him, unsure whether to laugh, cry, or stage an intervention. “Uh…it’s…unique?”

“Right?” He grinned wider. “I’m basically the next Shakespeare.”

“That was worse than the time you tried to rap during gym class,” Karina said, shaking her head.

“Hey, that rap had bars,” Riki shot back.

Giselle smirked. “Bars? That poem had potholes.”

Riki ignored her, his confidence unwavering. “I put my heart into that, okay? And I wrote it for you.” He pointed at you, completely serious. “So…what do you think? Be honest.”

You couldn’t help it-you burst out laughing. You laughed so hard your stomach hurt, and tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

Riki’s grin faltered. “Wait, are you laughing at me?”

“Riki,” you said, finally catching your breath, “that was the worst poem I’ve ever heard. But…thank you.”

He perked up. “Wait, so you liked it?”

“No,” you said, still laughing. “But I appreciate the effort.”

Sunoo leaned against the doorframe, shaking his head. “Man, she just told you your love poem is trash, and you’re still smiling. That’s commitment.”

Riki shrugged, his grin returning. “Hey, at least she laughed. That’s a win in my book.”

“You don’t even like books,” Giselle reminded him.

“Shut up, Giselle.”

As the meeting wrapped up, you couldn’t stop smiling. Riki’s poem might’ve been terrible, but his effort wasn’t lost on you.

Maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than his over-the-top confidence. And judging by the way he looked at you, he wasn’t planning on giving up anytime soon.

The Unfortunate Art Class

It was one of those days where everything that could possibly go wrong would go wrong, and for Riki, it was a day where his attempts to woo you went from embarrassing to downright disastrous. It all started in art class.

Riki had been practicing his sketching-well, more like pretending to practice-while thinking about how he could impress you next. He’d tried singing (and failed), created a disastrous potion (also a failure), and now, he figured, it was time to move on to something different: art.

“Yeah, I’m a man of many talents,” Riki muttered to himself, casually flicking his pencil across his notebook. He’d signed up for art class, mostly because it was a “chill” subject and because he knew you would be in there. You were always so effortlessly cool while sketching, and Riki thought that maybe, just maybe, if he could draw something beautiful, you’d finally take him seriously.

It was a flawless plan, in theory.

Except for the fact that he was absolutely terrible at drawing.

As you walked into the room, Riki immediately straightened up, trying to act casual while pretending to concentrate on the absolute mess of a sketch he was working on. It looked like someone had thrown a bunch of spaghetti at the paper and then tried to pass it off as “modern art.”

You glanced over at him. “What’s that supposed to be, Riki?”

Riki froze, his pencil hovering over the page. He glanced at his work and then back at you, trying to cover up the chaos he’d created. “Uh, it’s… it’s a modern interpretation of… love?”

You squinted at the scribbles, unsure whether he was being serious or if this was another one of his random, ridiculous attempts to impress you. “A modern interpretation of love?” you asked, not hiding your amusement. “It looks like a blob of mashed potatoes got into a fight with a pencil.”

“Excuse you,” Riki said, puffing out his chest. “It’s abstract.”

“Oh, I see,” you said, nodding, “I didn’t realize ‘abstract’ meant ‘I-don’t-know-how-to-draw-a-stick-figure’.”

Riki groaned, his face turning bright red. “It’s art, okay? You wouldn’t get it.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to get it,” you said with a teasing smile. “I’ve got better things to do than trying to decode your spaghetti disaster.”

Riki sat back in his seat, sulking, and that’s when his art teacher, Mr. Han, walked up to inspect his work.

“Ah, Riki,” Mr. Han said, adjusting his glasses and peering at the page. “Interesting… piece.”

“Thanks, Mr. Han,” Riki said, looking proud for a second, before Mr. Han continued.

“It’s… very… unique.”

Riki’s smile faltered. “Is that a good thing?”

“Well,” Mr. Han said slowly, “the concept is ambitious, but I think you might want to, you know, work on making things… recognizable?”

Riki’s face fell. “Okay, okay, but it’s modern, Mr. Han. It’s supposed to be about the chaos of love.”

Mr. Han raised an eyebrow. “Sure, but love’s supposed to be nice, not this. I think you’re looking for a different kind of love.”

And with that, he walked off, leaving Riki to stew in his misery.

“See? Told you,” you said from across the room, still chuckling under your breath.

“Shut up,” Riki muttered, throwing his pencil down in frustration. “It’s harder than it looks, okay?”

You shrugged, grinning. “Well, if this is your idea of love, I think I’d rather be single.”

Riki slumped in his chair. “Yeah, well, I’m sure you’d love that.”

As the class went on, Riki couldn’t help but sneak glances at you while pretending to concentrate on his new abstract “art.” He kept thinking of ways to get you to notice him, to actually like him. The potion was a bust, the karaoke disaster still haunted him, and his art was more of a crime scene than anything else.

But then, like a bolt of inspiration, it hit him. He didn’t need to be good at drawing. He didn’t even need to be good at singing. What if he just pretended to be good at something else? Something you liked?

That’s when he saw it-on the shelf near the back of the room. The most perfect thing he’d ever laid eyes on: the class’s art supplies. Specifically, a pack of colored markers. He quickly grabbed one, then another, and another, all while ignoring Mr. Han’s suspicious gaze.

“I’m going to do it,” he whispered to himself, suddenly determined. “I’m going to draw her the most beautiful picture she’s ever seen.”

Thirty minutes later, Riki proudly presented his latest masterpiece to you. He walked over to your desk, a big grin on his face. “Ta-da!”

You looked at the picture, then looked back up at him, and tried to hide your reaction. Riki had drawn what could only be described as… a stick figure of you, holding a giant heart with “I <3 U” scrawled inside it. Around you, Riki had drawn himself, in what he considered a romantic pose, though it mostly looked like he was having a seizure.

You blinked, trying to process what you were looking at. “Riki…”

He watched eagerly, his eyes wide. “What do you think? I’m going to call it ‘Love in Motion’.”

Your eyes flicked from the picture to Riki’s hopeful expression. “It’s… well, it’s certainly… something.”

Riki’s smile faltered. “Something good?”

“No, definitely something,” you said, biting your lip to keep from laughing. “It’s the most abstract thing I’ve ever seen. I didn’t realize you were such an avant-garde artist.”

Riki let out a dramatic sigh. “Great. You don’t get it again.”

“But hey, at least you didn’t include mashed potatoes this time,” you said, still chuckling under your breath.

“That’s it, I’m done!” Riki snapped, storming away from your desk.

“Come back! I’ll keep it!” you called out, still smiling. “You might need to work on the anatomy, though.”

After class, as Riki was leaving with his defeated art supplies, he caught up with his friends.

“Dude, what was that? Did you just draw her a stick figure of you two?” Jake asked, holding his stomach from laughing so hard.

“It’s called art, okay?” Riki muttered. “It’s supposed to be deep.”

Sunghoon, who had been walking behind him, raised an eyebrow. “The only thing deep about that is your delusion.”

Riki groaned, his shoulders sagging. “Why does she have to be so… perfect? I keep trying everything and it’s just not working.”

“You’re trying too hard, man,” Heeseung said, slapping him on the back. “Maybe you should just chill out a bit and be yourself.”

“Yeah, because ‘myself’ is an artless, tone-deaf disaster who can’t draw a stick figure right,” Riki said bitterly.

“You’re a work in progress, that’s for sure,” Sunghoon added.

Meanwhile, you were walking with your friends, holding onto the “art” Riki had given you. You glanced at it one last time and grinned.

“You know what?” Karina said. “That might just be the worst thing I’ve ever seen, but I kinda think it’s sweet.”

“I think it’s cute that he keeps trying,” Giselle agreed. “He’s a mess, but at least he’s trying.”

“Yeah,” you said with a soft smile, “but you’ve got to admit, his failures are kinda entertaining.”

Julie raised an eyebrow. “But what if you did give him a chance?”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. “Maybe. But for now, I’m having too much fun watching him crash and burn.”

The Desperate Measures

Riki had hit rock bottom.

He was no longer just the awkward, cringe-worthy guy trying to impress you with grand gestures. Now, he had become… desperate. Desperate to the point where he was willing to go behind your back and ask your friends for advice-terrible, absolutely terrible advice, which he took way too seriously.

It all started one afternoon during lunch. You were sitting with your friends, Karina, Giselle, and Julie, chatting and laughing about some random school gossip. Riki, seated at a table nearby with his basketball crew, could not stop staring at you. Every time you laughed or smiled, it felt like a small dagger to his heart-but in a good way-because, you know, he was in love.

But this was it. He was done. He couldn’t keep pretending to be casual about it. He needed a real plan. He needed help.

After a few minutes of overthinking, Riki made up his mind. He could already imagine how amazing things could be if he just figured out how to get you to like him back. His friends had tried to help, but every time he took their advice, he ended up making things worse. This time, he was going straight to the source: your friends.

He’d seen Karina, Giselle, and Julie talking to you during lunch, so he mustered up all the courage he had and casually walked over to their table. He cleared his throat dramatically.

“Hey, ladies,” he said with a grin that looked more like a nervous twitch. “What’s up?”

Karina raised an eyebrow, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, hey Riki. Didn’t know you were interested in joining our table.”

“I wasn’t,” Riki replied, a little too quickly. “I just need… uh… some advice. About her.” He nodded towards you, trying to be discreet.

Giselle smirked, clearly knowing exactly what he meant. “Oh, you mean Y/N?”

“Yes,” Riki said, clearly desperate. “How do I… get her to like me?”

There was a moment of silence as the three girls exchanged amused glances. They were all fully aware of Riki’s crush on you, and each one of them had been watching his attempts from the sidelines, laughing and waiting for the inevitable failure. But now that Riki was asking them for help, they were more than ready to give him advice.

Julie leaned forward, her voice low but full of mischief. “Well, Riki,” she began, “the thing is, you’ve gotta show her that you’re different from the other guys. You know, stand out in a way that makes her think you’re… special.”

“Oh, totally,” Riki said, nodding eagerly. “I can do that.”

Karina chimed in next. “Also, be unpredictable. You know, surprise her. Do something she won’t see coming. Maybe like, I don’t know… show up to class with a puppy or something.”

“Wait, a puppy?” Riki asked, confused. “Like, you’re saying I should just-”

“Yeah,” Karina interrupted, leaning back in her seat. “It works every time. Who could resist a cute dog? I mean, think about it. You walk into the room with a puppy, and she’ll melt. Instant win.”

Riki’s eyes lit up. “A puppy… right. Got it.”

“Also,” Giselle added, “don’t forget to be mysterious. Like, when you talk to her, keep it vague. Don’t reveal everything about yourself all at once. Make her curious.”

Riki took notes in his mind. “Mysterious, yes. Vague. Keep her guessing.”

Julie winked. “And don’t forget to compliment her, like, all the time. But make it subtle, you know? Like, I like your vibe or you’re different from everyone else. Keep it casual. Don’t sound desperate, even if you are.”

Riki nodded so furiously he nearly gave himself whiplash. “Right. Keep it casual. Subtle compliments.”

“And most importantly,” Karina said, her voice suddenly turning more serious, “don’t let her see you sweat. Even if everything’s going horribly wrong, just act like it’s no big deal.”

Riki took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. “Okay. Okay, I can do this. I’ll do everything you said. Thanks, guys.”

As he walked away, he was practically glowing with optimism, as if this was the breakthrough he’d been waiting for. What could possibly go wrong?

Later that afternoon, Riki put his plan into action. He had managed to convince his cousin to lend him a tiny puppy (who was far too energetic for Riki’s lack of experience with animals), and he had every intention of marching into your class with that puppy in tow. He had his compliments prepared, his mysterious vibes ready, and his subtle confidence locked and loaded.

He walked to your classroom, puppy in hand, his heart pounding in his chest. The puppy squirmed in his arms, clearly not impressed with Riki’s handling skills, but he was too focused on you to notice. He entered the classroom and immediately caught your attention.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, trying to sound cool but still managing to squeak a little. “Look what I got.”

You looked up from your seat and blinked. “Uh, what’s that?”

Riki proudly held up the puppy. “A puppy. I thought it’d be a fun surprise.” He flashed a grin, trying to channel his best “mysterious” energy.

You looked at the puppy for a moment before looking back at Riki, your expression unreadable. “Why are you showing me this?”

Riki’s smile faltered for a second, but he quickly recovered. “Because, you know, puppies make people happy. And I thought… I thought you’d like it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You got a puppy for me?”

“Yeah,” Riki said, still grinning, but now it was starting to feel forced. “Just, you know, to show I care. And that I’m different.”

You stared at him for a moment, clearly confused, before glancing at the puppy again. “Well, it’s cute, I guess. But, uh, where’s the rest of it?”

Riki blinked. “What?”

“You know,” you said, deadpan, “usually when people get puppies, there’s like, a point to it. Like, you’re adopting it. Or… giving it away. Are you just borrowing this puppy for a vibe check or…?”

Riki froze. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Uh…” He turned the puppy around and tried to make it do something cute, but the puppy only managed to chew on his sleeve. “Well… yeah, I mean, I just thought I’d bring it by. You know, to impress you.”

“Impress me with a dog?” you asked, looking genuinely perplexed. “That’s… a first.”

Riki’s face turned bright red. He wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. This was nothing like what he’d imagined. He could hear his friends’ advice echoing in his mind: Make her think you’re special… Keep it mysterious… Compliment her subtly.

Instead, here he was, holding an unruly puppy that was completely sabotaging his “plan.”

“Uh, Riki,” you said, breaking the awkward silence, “I gotta go. Maybe next time you try impressing me, you could leave the puppy with its owner and just, I don’t know, talk to me like a normal person.”

Riki stood there, watching you walk away, the puppy tugging at his sleeve like it, too, was trying to escape.

Later that evening, Riki found himself sitting in his room, utterly defeated. He had tried everything. The puppy was a disaster. His mysterious vibe was nonexistent. And when he’d tried to compliment you earlier, it had come out as awkward rambling.

But what hurt the most? The lies his friends had told him.

“I thought a puppy would be enough to impress her,” he muttered to himself, staring at the ceiling. “I don’t get it.”

The Game-Changing Disaster

Riki had spent the entire week psyching himself up for this moment. It was the biggest basketball game of the season, and everyone was talking about it. The energy in the gymnasium was electric, and the entire school was buzzing with excitement. All eyes were on Riki, the star player of the team, and he was determined to use this opportunity to finally, finally impress you.

He had it all planned out. He wasn’t just going to play well-no, no, no. He was going to dedicate his performance to you, and in doing so, he would show you how much he cared. This would be the moment where everything would fall into place. All those awkward attempts, the puppy fiasco, the art class embarrassment-it would all be worth it once he made you notice him in the most epic way possible.

The game had started, and Riki was already in the zone. He was running up and down the court, weaving between his teammates and opponents, effortlessly sinking shots and making assists. The crowd roared in approval, chanting his name. He was on fire. This was his time to shine. The only thing left was to make sure you saw it all.

As the game went on, Riki began scanning the crowd, looking for you. He spotted Karina and Giselle waving their hands frantically from the bleachers, but that wasn’t what he was focused on. No, his eyes were locked on you-sitting in the third row, looking effortlessly cool with your friends, totally unaware of the storm of emotions Riki was experiencing from the court.

His heart skipped a beat. This was it. This was his big moment. He could feel the weight of the ball in his hands, the adrenaline coursing through his veins. As he dribbled past an opponent and took a quick glance at the crowd to make sure you were watching, he had an epiphany: he would dedicate this final shot to you.

“I’m gonna do it. I’m going to win this for her,” Riki whispered to himself, a smile creeping onto his face. “She’ll see. She’ll finally see how much I care.”

The clock was ticking down, and Riki could feel the heat of the game intensifying. The score was close, and the final seconds were approaching. His teammates passed him the ball, and he was wide open for a shot. This was the moment.

As he dribbled toward the basket, Riki suddenly had the thought of you in his mind. He could almost hear the crowd cheering for him, but all he could focus on was you. This is for you, he thought as he took the jump shot.

And that’s when it happened.

Right as Riki was soaring through the air, preparing to make the perfect shot, his gaze shifted back toward you in the stands-just in time to see you laughing with your friends. Why is she laughing? What’s so funny?

And that was the fatal mistake.

In his distraction, Riki misjudged his footing. He stumbled mid-air, his legs flailing wildly as he lost control of his balance. The crowd went silent for a moment as they watched Riki completely biff it mid-court. In one glorious second, he went from being the hero to the clumsiest guy on the court.

Riki’s foot caught on the floor, and with a loud thud, he crashed onto the hardwood, his body sprawled out in a full-on disaster pose. The ball, meanwhile, ricocheted off the backboard with the precision of a rock skipping across a lake, missing the hoop entirely and landing at the feet of a very confused player from the other team.

For a brief moment, there was a stunned silence in the gym. Everyone, including Riki, seemed to be in shock. His teammates stood frozen, and even the opposing team stopped mid-play.

Riki slowly pushed himself up from the floor, his face redder than a tomato. His heart was pounding, and he felt like crawling into a hole and staying there forever. The gym slowly erupted into laughter, and he couldn’t tell whether they were laughing with him or at him-he suspected the latter.

“Riki!” one of his teammates, Jake, shouted in disbelief. “What the hell was that?!”

Riki just groaned, clutching his forehead in embarrassment. “I… I wasn’t looking where I was going,” he muttered, utterly defeated.

From the bleachers, Karina, Giselle, and Julie burst into laughter. “I knew he’d mess it up,” Karina laughed, nudging Giselle.

“I didn’t think he’d do it this spectacularly, though,” Giselle added. “At least he can’t blame the puppy this time.”

Riki was too mortified to even respond, his mind still stuck on that disastrous fall. He was supposed to be impressing you, not doing an impromptu audition for a slapstick comedy show. He couldn’t even face you, especially after you’d probably seen the entire thing unfold.

But then, as he stood up, trying to salvage some shred of dignity, he heard the sound of someone clicking a camera.

“Hold up,” a voice called out from behind him. It was Sunghoon, his ever-sarcastic teammate. “I think I got a shot.”

Riki turned around, his eyes wide with horror. “Sunghoon, no.”

“Oh yeah, I got this for sure,” Sunghoon said, flipping his phone in his hands. “This is gold.” He held up his phone, showing Riki the photo-an image of Riki in mid-fall, mouth wide open, and arms flailing in a way that could only be described as pure chaos.

Riki’s face went pale. “Are you serious?” he asked, horrified.

“I’m not just serious,” Sunghoon said, grinning. “This is my new favorite thing to pull up whenever you start acting all cocky about your skills.”

“No, Sunghoon, don’t you dare-”

But it was too late. Sunghoon already had a plan in mind. “You can’t be mad at me when this is priceless. If you ever try to pretend you’re a smooth operator again, I’ll be pulling this up on my Instagram story.”

Riki’s stomach dropped. He could already imagine the comments: “Riki the basketball pro, more like Riki the human trampoline”, or “When you try to impress someone but end up impressing the floor instead”.

As the game continued, Riki couldn’t focus. He was too embarrassed to even think straight. His team managed to win the game despite his epic fail, but he couldn’t find any joy in the victory. Instead, he was consumed by one thought: How could he make it up to you after this disaster?

After the game, Riki sulked back to the locker room, avoiding his teammates’ teasing and pretending to focus on changing into his regular clothes. But he couldn’t stop thinking about you. What had you thought when you saw him crash like that? Was he still embarrassing? Was there any chance he could salvage what little dignity he had left?

And then, his phone buzzed.

It was a notification from Instagram. He opened it up, and his heart sank.

There it was-the photo that would haunt him for the rest of his life. Sunghoon had uploaded it, complete with a hilarious caption.

Riki groaned and buried his face in his hands. He knew that he would never live it down.

School Festival Chaos

The school festival was a legendary event every year-one of those days where the entire school came together to put on extravagant booths, games, and performances. The air was thick with the smell of food, the laughter of students, and the constant hum of excitement as people rushed from one event to the next. This was the day Riki had been waiting for.

The day he would finally win you a prize.

Riki had spent the past hour going from one booth to another, determined to prove to you that he was capable of doing something right for once. He had so many chances to impress you-so many games to win, so many prizes to grab. But despite his best efforts, he kept coming up short.

At the first booth, he tried to win a stuffed bear by throwing darts at balloons. Simple, right? Well, apparently not for Riki, whose aim was so off that he might as well have been throwing the darts with his eyes closed. The booth attendant was trying to hide their smirk as they handed him a consolation prize: a tiny rubber spider.

“Great,” Riki muttered, clutching the spider like it was the most embarrassing thing he’d ever touched. “Perfect for impressing Y/N.”

At the next booth, it was a ring toss, and this time, he was determined. The objective was simple-get the ring on the bottle, win a prize. It was foolproof. That is, until Riki threw the first ring, which somehow flew over the booth, narrowly missing someone’s head and landing in the bushes.

He stared at the ring as if it had betrayed him. I swear, I’m getting closer each time, he thought, trying to maintain his optimism.

After several failed attempts, he walked away from the booth defeated, feeling like a man who had lost his dignity in the process. But no! He couldn’t give up now! He had to keep trying. He had to show you he could win something, anything.

Meanwhile, you had been watching from the sidelines with your friends-Karina, Giselle, and Julie-amused by Riki’s increasingly desperate attempts.

“Is Riki… trying to win prizes for you?” Karina asked with a raised eyebrow, a teasing grin on her face.

Giselle snorted. “He’s been at it for, like, an hour. I thought this was supposed to be easy for him.”

Julie chuckled. “I don’t know, I’m just here for the chaos. This is honestly better than the game last week.”

You, however, couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him. Sure, it was funny, but it was also kind of cute in its own way. It wasn’t every day that someone was this determined to impress you.

Riki finally stumbled over to a prize booth that seemed like it was perfect for him: a giant basketball hoop toss. The sign promised a grand prize-an oversized plush lion. And you had mentioned before how much you loved lions.

This is it, Riki thought. This is my moment. She’ll finally be impressed. I can do this.

He stepped up to the booth, the prize looming large in his mind. His hands were shaking with nerves as he grabbed the basketball. It wasn’t a real one, of course, just one of those cheap foam balls you could get at a carnival, but Riki didn’t care. He was already envisioning himself handing you the giant lion, your face lighting up in admiration.

With a deep breath, he tossed the ball.

It missed the hoop entirely.

Riki groaned and let his shoulders slump. He watched in horror as the ball bounced off the edge and rolled across the floor, completely out of his reach.

“Nice try!” the booth attendant called out with forced enthusiasm. “Would you like to try again?”

Riki waved them off, his spirit broken. “No, I think I’ve had enough for today.”

From across the way, you saw Riki standing at the booth, looking absolutely defeated. Despite his continuous failures, you couldn’t help but smile. It was hard not to appreciate his effort. It was like he was trying so hard that it had become almost endearing-almost.

“Riki’s been at this for ages,” Giselle commented, watching him walk away from the booth, dejected. “This is gonna be a disaster if he keeps at it.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the situation. “It’s like he’s determined to impress me, but in the worst way possible.”

Karina shot you a playful look. “Maybe you should help him out.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Help him? With that? He’s got this.”

But then you thought about it for a second. He was clearly trying so hard. And although he was failing miserably, you could see the genuine intent behind it.

“You know what?” you said, standing up. “Maybe I’ll show him how it’s done.”

You walked over to the same booth Riki had just left, where the attendant gave you a casual smile as you approached.

“Hey, what’s up?” they said. “You looking to win a big prize?”

“Yeah,” you replied with a smile, “I’ll give it a shot.”

Riki, who had been walking in the opposite direction, noticed you standing at the booth, ready to give it a go. His heart immediately started racing. What was this? You? Playing the basketball hoop toss? He couldn’t believe it.

This is going to be embarrassing, he thought. If she wins, it’ll be like rubbing salt in the wound.

But then something surprising happened.

You grabbed the foam basketball and made your first shot. It swooshed perfectly through the hoop.

Riki froze. “No way.”

You grabbed the ball again. Shot two. Swish.

His jaw dropped. “Wait, what?!”

You continued, effortlessly making shot after shot, as if you had been practicing for this exact moment. In just a few seconds, you had hit the required number of successful shots, and the attendant handed you the giant lion plush.

Riki stood there, stunned.

“Uh, well,” you said with a smirk as you approached him, the massive lion in your hands. “Guess you need to work on your aim a little more, huh?”

Riki could only blink, a mix of shock and admiration on his face. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “You… you really just did that.”

You handed him the lion with a grin. “I figured it was the least I could do after watching you fail so many times.”

He took the lion from you, blushing deeply, feeling like the biggest fool on the planet. “I… I thought I could get it for you. You know, so you could be impressed with me.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I am impressed, just not for the reasons you think.”

Riki’s blush deepened as he hugged the oversized plush to his chest, too embarrassed to look you in the eye. “Thanks. I don’t deserve this… but thank you.”

You smiled warmly at him. “It’s nothing, really. You were trying so hard, Riki. That counts for something.”

Riki stood there, holding the giant lion in his arms, his mind completely overwhelmed by how much he cared about you-and how much he wanted to make you proud. Maybe he wasn’t perfect, but at least he was trying, and he was getting closer to impressing you, even if it wasn’t the way he expected.

Later that day, as the festival continued, Riki’s friends couldn’t help but tease him about what had happened.

“I knew you were gonna lose,” Jake said, snickering.

But Riki just laughed along with them, holding the giant lion proudly. “Yeah, yeah. I guess it wasn’t meant to be. But hey, at least she won me a prize.”

His friends gave him a knowing look, but he didn’t care. He was content just knowing that you had finally noticed him.

Confessions Gone Wrong

It had been a few days since the school festival disaster, and Riki had barely been able to think of anything else. Despite his epic failures, there was one thing that kept him going-you. He’d been replaying the whole day over and over in his head, and it hit him like a ton of bricks: he had feelings for you. Big, gigantic, overwhelming feelings.

Now, he had to tell you.

It was time to confess.

Riki sat in the cafeteria, fidgeting nervously with his hands. His mind was racing a mile a minute. What if you said no? What if it was super awkward? What if you laughed in his face? He didn’t know why he thought confessing was a good idea in the first place. It was way too risky. But no, he couldn’t chicken out. He had to do this.

His friends, however, seemed to have other ideas.

“You got this, man,” Heeseung said, clapping Riki on the back. “Just be straight with her. Say something like, ‘I like you.’”

“Yeah, man,” Jake added, leaning in from the side. “Don’t overthink it. Just… do it.”

Riki stared at them blankly. “You guys don’t understand. I’m not just telling her I like her, I’m… I’m confessing. This is big. This is… important.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “Is this like, a romantic confession or more of a ‘I’d like to take you to dinner sometime but also I might die of embarrassment in the process’ type of deal?”

“It’s… both,” Riki mumbled, his mind swirling in confusion. “I don’t know, I just-”

“You know what would really work?” Jay interrupted, his voice suddenly deadly serious. “You gotta be like, ‘I don’t know what’s happening between us, but I just can’t stop thinking about you.’ You know, make it sound deep. Like you’ve been contemplating it.”

“Yeah, like you’re having an existential crisis about it,” Sunghoon chimed in. “Like, ‘I’m not sure if I’m alive or just existing without you.’ It’ll make her swoon for sure.”

Riki’s face turned crimson. “What? No, that’s way too much! I just want to say something simple!”

“Fine, fine, okay,” Heeseung said, shrugging. “Here’s the thing, bro: when in doubt, just make it funny. Humor is everything. You don’t want to come off too serious, like you’re trying too hard, right?”

“That’s true, but also, you gotta act confident,” Jake added. “Like, you’re the catch here, you know? Show her that you are the one who should be adored.”

“Got it,” Riki said, though he was starting to feel more overwhelmed than before. “Just be funny and confident. Easy.”

After what felt like an eternity of pep talks from his friends, Riki finally spotted you sitting at your usual table, chatting with Karina and Giselle. He took a deep breath, straightened his back, and made his way over to your table, trying his hardest to look cool. His heart was pounding, and his palms were sweaty. This was it-he was finally going to confess.

As he approached, your friends gave him a knowing look, but you remained completely unaware of what was coming.

“Hey, Y/N,” Riki greeted, standing awkwardly in front of your table, his fingers twitching nervously. “Can I, uh, talk to you for a sec?”

You looked up, your expression warm and friendly. “Sure, what’s up?”

Riki cleared his throat, trying to appear calm. “Okay, so, um… this is a bit hard for me to say, but… I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and…”

And then, just as he was about to continue, he felt the eyes of his friends boring into him from across the cafeteria.

“Say something smooth!” Heeseung mouthed from behind you, giving him an exaggerated thumbs-up.

“Don’t mess up!” Sunghoon whispered, and Riki swore he saw him holding up a fake phone to his ear like he was recording it for blackmail.

His heart rate picked up, and in the middle of the intense pressure, he completely forgot the smooth, confident line he’d planned. Instead, all that came out of his mouth was:

“Do you wanna, like… hang sometime?”

Your expression didn’t change, and Riki was already bracing himself for the awkward silence when-

“No, wait! I mean, bang…! I mean-!” Riki slapped his hand over his mouth immediately, realizing what he had just said. He blinked, stunned by his own words, and then the horror set in. He had just asked you-asked you to hang-and then he accidentally blurted out bang?!

You stared at him, your eyes wide in shock, and then… you burst out laughing. It was a genuine laugh, the kind that made Riki’s face burn with embarrassment.

“You… you want to-what?!” you gasped between laughs, clutching your stomach. “Did you just-”

“No! No, I meant hang out!” Riki sputtered, shaking his head frantically. “I swear, I didn’t mean to say that! I’m-Oh my God, this is so embarrassing…”

“Did you just..bang?” Karina asked, unable to hold in her laughter, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Riki, are you asking Y/N to… what, exactly?”

Riki wanted to die right there. This was it. This was his confession. He had just managed to make a fool of himself in front of you in the worst way possible.

“Bro, you gotta stop digging,” Jake said, face-palming from across the cafeteria. “This is like watching a slow-motion train wreck.”

Your laughter died down, but you still had a grin on your face as you wiped away the tears from your eyes. “I… okay. You really know how to make a confession memorable, I’ll give you that.”

Riki stared at you, trying to process what had just happened. “I swear, I didn’t mean that. I was just trying to say something simple and-”

“Yeah, you definitely kept it simple,” you teased, giving him a playful wink. “I think this is the most creative confession I’ve ever heard.”

Riki buried his face in his hands. “Oh my God, I’m never living this down, am I?”

“Honestly?” you said, leaning back in your chair, looking far too amused for Riki’s liking. “I think I’d rather hang out with you than bang...”

“You’re killing me here,” Riki groaned, his face bright red. “I swear, I’m going to die from secondhand embarrassment.”

But you just smiled, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “It’s okay, Riki. I get it. You’re nervous. You can always try again… just, you know, without the ‘bang’ part.”

“Yeah, bro,” Sunghoon piped up from behind, clearly enjoying every moment. “You gotta learn how to do this without sounding like a walking disaster.”

You turned to your friends, still chuckling. “Honestly, though, I think this is the best confession I’ve gotten all week.”

Riki raised his head and gave you a weak smile. “Well, at least it’s memorable.”

“You’re telling me,” you quipped. “In fact, this might just go down in history as the most awkward confession of all time. But hey, at least you didn’t say something worse, right?”

Riki wanted to die, but at the same time… he didn’t. Despite the awkwardness, despite his humiliation, there was something about the way you were teasing him-playfully, not mean-spirited-that made him feel like he might actually have a chance.

Later, as Riki trudged back to his friends, who were all practically rolling on the floor in laughter, he couldn’t help but smile through his embarrassment. At least you didn’t hate him. Maybe, just maybe, he had a shot at getting it right next time.

The Panic Panic

It was another regular school day-well, as regular as a school day could be when Riki was still trying to recover from his disastrous confession. He was walking to class, still embarrassed, but at least he was trying to act like nothing happened. His friends kept bringing it up every chance they got, but for the most part, Riki had learned to laugh it off… well, at least he pretended to laugh it off.

You, however, were always on his mind. It was impossible not to think about how cute you were when you laughed at his confession. It wasn’t mean, just funny in a way that made him feel a little less terrible. Plus, he loved how you didn’t seem to mind his blunders, and honestly, that made him want to impress you even more.

That afternoon, as Riki was sitting at lunch with his friends, he noticed Julie staring at him with a mischievous grin on her face. She was sitting with you, Karina, and Giselle at the table, clearly plotting something.

“Hey, Riki,” Julie said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You know, I’ve been thinking… Y/N really deserves someone special, don’t you think?”

Riki froze, his heart skipping a beat. “Uh… yeah?”

“Yeah!” Julie said enthusiastically. “But you know, she might need a real man, you know? Someone who actually knows how to talk to her and doesn’t mess up their confessions in the most cringe-worthy way possible.” She smirked, raising an eyebrow.

Riki could feel his face heating up. “Oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad, was it?”

Julie winked. “Well, the whole bang thing was a little… memorable. But don’t worry! Maybe I should just set her up with someone else, someone who could actually sweep her off her feet.” She leaned back in her chair, giving Riki a teasing look. “What do you think? Should I hook her up with, like, Sunghoon or someone? He does know how to talk to girls.”

Riki’s eyes widened in panic. No way-he couldn’t let that happen. Not after everything he’d been trying to do. He had to prove he was the better option.

“No! No way, I-I mean, no! I’m totally… totally better than Sunghoon!” Riki blurted out, his words tumbling over each other. “I mean, I’ve got this! I know I messed up last time, but I can fix it! I can prove I’m… I’m a good choice! Way better than Sunghoon. Way better.”

Julie raised an eyebrow. “Really? You? Prove it, then.”

Riki looked over at Sunghoon, who was sitting with his friends across the cafeteria, casually chatting. He had his usual confident smirk on his face, like he could talk to anyone without even trying. Riki felt a spike of jealousy. Of course, Sunghoon was perfect. He was always smooth with the ladies. 

But there was no way he was going to lose this.

“I can do it,” Riki muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. “I can… I just need to do something that’ll really impress her. Something big. Like, heroic.”

Giselle, who had been listening to the whole conversation, let out a laugh. “Heroic? Riki, do you even know what that word means? You barely survived your confession last week!”

“Oh, shut up, Giselle,” Riki snapped, puffing out his chest. “I’ve got this. I’m going to do something so impressive, she’ll forget all about the ‘bang’ thing.”

Julie grinned. “Sure, sure. Go ahead, then. I’d like to see how you plan to outdo Sunghoon.”

Riki, determined not to back down, stood up from his seat. “Watch and learn, everybody. Watch and learn.”

After some thought, Riki had what he thought was a brilliant idea: he would impress you with something athletic-something that would highlight his strength and talent. He couldn’t just be the awkward guy who messes up his words. No, he was Riki, the basketball star. Surely that would be enough, right?

Later that afternoon, Riki found you standing near the school gym, talking to Karina and Giselle. His heart skipped a beat. This was it. He had already seen Sunghoon playing basketball earlier, and he knew he could do better. He was definitely better.

“Hey, Y/N!” Riki called, jogging over to you with a grin plastered on his face. “You like basketball, right?”

You turned to him, looking mildly curious but not too interested. “Yeah, I mean, I guess. Why?”

“Well, I was thinking, maybe we could… I don’t know, shoot some hoops together?” He tried to sound casual, but his voice cracked at the end.

Karina raised an eyebrow. “Are you seriously asking her to shoot hoops with you?”

Riki shot her a glare, clearly ignoring her. “I’m totally fine with it, no pressure. I can show you some of my sick tricks.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by his sudden enthusiasm. “Sick tricks? Like what?”

Riki grinned, feeling an overwhelming surge of confidence. “Like, watch this!”

Without waiting for a response, he jogged over to the basketball hoop. He grabbed a ball, dribbled it a couple of times, and then made a jump shot from a distance. The ball flew through the air, and… hit the rim.

It bounced off and fell straight to the ground.

Riki’s face immediately turned red. Okay, that wasn’t supposed to happen. He picked up the ball and tried again, only for it to miss the hoop entirely and roll across the gym.

“You got this, bro!” Sunghoon yelled from across the gym, watching with his usual smug grin. “Totally nailed it!”

You and your friends burst out laughing. Even Karina couldn’t hold back.

“You know, you really should’ve stuck with your original plan,” Giselle said, still snickering. “You know, the ‘just talk to her and don’t say anything weird’ plan.”

Riki stood there, trying to recover from his failed attempt, but now he was sweating. This was not going according to plan. This was supposed to be his big moment. Instead, it felt like a huge disaster.

“I-uh, okay, okay!” he said, finally looking back at you. “I can do better. I’ll-wait for it.”

You looked at him with an amused expression, barely holding back another laugh. “You sure you’ve got this, Riki? I’m not sure this is the ‘heroic’ moment you had in mind.”

Riki’s face was so red he could’ve passed for a tomato. “No, no, I’ve got this! Just-just wait!”

Julie, who had been watching from the sidelines, gave him a slow clap. “Oh, look, it’s the basketball star. Never mind, Sunghoon’s got this one, right?”

Riki felt a surge of panic. No, he couldn’t let this happen. He needed to redeem himself, and fast. He looked at you again, the pressure mounting. “Okay, okay, let’s-let’s just hang sometime. Maybe we can… actually do something fun. How about… a movie? Or something?”

You smiled, clearly enjoying watching him flail. “Sure, we can hang. But if you’re going to keep embarrassing yourself like this, I’m definitely going with Sunghoon next time.”

The panic that flooded Riki’s chest was almost unbearable. He was getting crushed by his own nerves and the weight of your expectations. No way was he going to lose to Sunghoon. He had to step up his game… but how?

Karina's Makeover Plan

The school dance was just around the corner. The buzz of excitement and nerves filled the hallways as everyone began preparing for what was sure to be a night full of glitter, lights, and, of course, a lot of questionable dance moves. For some students, the thought of attending the dance was an exciting prospect. For others, like Riki, it was the perfect opportunity to do something incredibly dumb for the sake of impressing you.

“Okay, listen up,” Karina said one afternoon as she pulled you aside after school, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “The dance is coming up, and you need a makeover. No more hiding in the background like some cute but invisible wallflower. It’s time for you to shine, and I-” She gave a dramatic pause, “-am the one who’s going to make that happen.”

You blinked, unsure if Karina was serious or just playing one of her usual pranks. “A makeover? Karina, I’m fine. I don’t need-”

“Nope, not happening,” she interrupted, her arms crossed and a determined look on her face. “You deserve to feel amazing. Plus, I need you to show Riki just how incredible you really are, especially now that he’s been-how do we say it?-failing miserably at everything.” She gave a dramatic roll of her eyes.

You groaned. “You seriously think Riki is the reason for all of this?”

“Well, yes! He’s a mess, and it’s obvious,” Karina said, her tone as blunt as ever. “But a makeover will give you that extra oomph to make him realize that you’re not just some girl who trips over her words. You are a force to be reckoned with.”

Reluctantly, you agreed. It wasn’t like you had a choice in the matter when Karina set her mind to something. You had a feeling she had already gathered a whole team of “makeover” supplies without even asking you for input.

The next day, you found yourself sitting in front of Karina’s full beauty arsenal-a bunch of hair tools, makeup, and the most fashionable clothes she could dig out of her closet. It felt like something straight out of a high school makeover montage, but you couldn’t deny that Karina had a way of making things work.

“You ready for this?” Karina asked, flashing you a grin. “We’re going to take Riki’s mind off every embarrassing thing he’s done. After this, he’ll be so smitten, he won’t know what hit him.”

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical but willing to go along with it. “Do you think this will actually work?”

Karina winked. “Trust me, it’s foolproof.”

Hours later, the transformation was complete. Karina had somehow managed to do her magic, and you looked… well, different. Your hair was perfectly styled, your makeup was subtle yet striking, and your outfit? Stunning. You barely recognized yourself in the mirror. You looked like you belonged in one of those high school romantic comedies where the quiet, shy girl takes off her glasses and suddenly turns into the hottest girl in school.

You turned to Karina, unsure of how to feel. “This… I look like I’m about to star in a drama.”

“Exactly!” Karina replied, her voice filled with pride. “You’re going to slay, trust me. Now, get out there and make Riki wish he had never messed up that confession.”

As you walked down the hall toward the dance, you could feel everyone’s eyes on you. It was like the world had suddenly stopped, and all attention was on you. You spotted Riki in the crowd almost immediately. He was with his friends, standing near the snack table, looking as if he were discussing the most important thing on the planet-most likely how he could redeem himself from his last attempt to impress you.

The moment he saw you, his entire demeanor shifted. His eyes widened, and his jaw went slack. His friends immediately noticed his reaction.

“Dude,” Sunghoon said with a knowing grin, “you’re drooling.”

Riki didn’t even seem to hear him, still staring at you in absolute awe.

“I think he just short-circuited,” Sunoo said, his voice dripping with sass. “Like, seriously, bro. He’s just standing there like a puppy who’s been hit by a bus.”

“Wait for it,” Jay said, eyes glinting with mischief. “He’s gonna try to walk over and make a move. Let’s see how he screws this up.”

Sure enough, Riki started to move toward you, his feet awkwardly shuffling in the most un-Riki-like way possible. His friends exchanged knowing glances.

“Here we go,” Jake muttered, sipping his drink. “This is gonna be good.”

As Riki approached, his face was flushed with excitement-or maybe panic, it was hard to tell. He took a deep breath, trying to act cool. “Hey, Y/N,” he said, his voice coming out slightly higher than usual. “You, uh, look… wow.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “What, no bang this time?”

Riki winced, the memory of his previous mistake still fresh in his mind. “I-uh, no. I meant to say you look amazing, like, wow, incredible. Seriously. I mean, you always look good, but tonight-whoa.”

“Thanks,” you said, trying not to laugh at how flustered he was. “It’s Karina’s work, so you know it’s dangerous when she’s involved.”

Riki chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Karina really knows how to… transform people. You look so-” He paused mid-sentence, clearly struggling to put his thoughts into words.

“Like a goddess?” Sunghoon called out from behind Riki, earning an eye roll from Riki in return.

“Shut up, Sunghoon,” Riki muttered, his face now entirely red.

You couldn’t help but smile. “Don’t worry, Riki. I’m used to people staring at me like I’m a foreign species after a makeover.”

“That’s not the point,” Riki blurted out, finally gaining some semblance of confidence. “I-uh, I think you look amazing. I mean, seriously. Like, wow.” He nodded emphatically, and you could tell he was trying way too hard to not look like a complete disaster.

“You’re killing me here, Riki,” Sunoo said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re acting like you’ve never seen a girl before.”

“Yeah, bro, relax,” Sunghoon added. “She’s just a person, not a whole new species.”

“Shut up, both of you!” Riki snapped, clearly annoyed but still unable to pull his eyes away from you.

You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a little bit of satisfaction. You had managed to break him in the best way possible, and honestly? It was kind of hilarious. But there was something else, too. Something more than just amusement. You liked that Riki was so flustered by your appearance. Maybe, just maybe, he was starting to realize how much he actually liked you.

“Well, thanks for the compliments, Riki,” you said, a teasing smile on your face. “I’ll take it as a win, considering how awkward you’re being right now.”

“I’m not awkward!” Riki insisted, but even he could tell that his voice had a higher pitch than usual. He was a mess, and he knew it. “I-uh, I just wasn’t expecting you to, you know, look like that. You’re… wow. Really wow.”

“And I think he’s short-circuited again,” Sunoo added with a sly grin, earning laughter from the rest of the group.

Riki buried his face in his hands, embarrassed beyond belief. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

As the night wore on, Riki’s attempts to act cool around you only became more ridiculous. But secretly, deep down, you kind of liked it. There was something about his awkward charm that was endearing, even if it made him seem like a nervous wreck every time you were near.

The dance was just beginning, and Riki was clearly trying to muster up the courage to ask you to dance. Would he succeed? Or would he trip over his own feet like usual? The tension was real, but you couldn’t help but feel a little excited to see where this would go.

Mutual Feelings

The days after the school dance were quieter than usual. The whirlwind of awkward moments, and teasing had settled down a bit. But there was something in the air now, something that wasn’t there before-the heavy, palpable feeling of anticipation. You could tell that Riki had changed. He still teased you, still tried to impress you in the silliest ways possible, but now there was a certain realness behind it. It wasn’t just a game anymore. It wasn’t just about winning your attention. No, he was genuinely trying to show you how much he liked you.

And while you pretended not to notice, you couldn’t help but feel the same way. You’d always been the quiet girl, the one who stayed in the background and let things unfold. But the more you saw Riki’s awkward, goofy charm, the more you realized that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t quite as indifferent as you thought.

It was after school one day, and you were walking down the hallway with Karina, Giselle, and Julie. The air felt heavy with the usual chatter of students, but something about today felt different. As you reached the end of the hallway, you saw Riki leaning against the lockers, his friends gathered around him as usual. His eyes locked onto yours immediately, and a slight blush crept onto his cheeks.

Karina nudged you with a teasing smile. “So, are you just gonna keep pretending like you don’t see him, or are you finally gonna admit that he’s been getting to you?” she whispered, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

You rolled your eyes, but your heart skipped a beat when you saw Riki standing there. He wasn’t even trying to hide the way he looked at you anymore-his gaze was open, hopeful, maybe even a little vulnerable.

“Let’s just go,” you muttered, trying to play it cool. But before you could take another step, Riki called out to you.

“Y/N!” His voice was a little too loud, a little too eager. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

You stopped in your tracks, your heart doing an odd little flip. You glanced at your friends, who were suddenly far too interested in their shoes, and then back at Riki.

“Sure,” you said, trying to sound casual, though you were anything but. You walked over to him, arms crossed, trying not to look too affected by his presence.

Riki shuffled awkwardly, clearly nervous. His usual cocky demeanor had melted away, leaving a more vulnerable version of him. It was almost adorable. He glanced down at the floor before looking back at you, his eyes softer than usual.

“Look,” he started, taking a deep breath. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this for a while, but I guess… I just need to say it now.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking ridiculously nervous.

You tilted your head, trying to act like you didn’t already know exactly what was coming. “Riki,” you said, your voice light, “you’re starting to sound like you’re about to give a big speech. Just get to it.”

Riki’s cheeks flushed even deeper, and he shifted from foot to foot like he was trying to find the courage to continue. “I-uh-I’ve liked you for a while. Like, a long while,” he admitted, his words coming out in a rush. “I know I’ve been acting like an idiot. I’ve probably messed up more times than I can count. But I really, really like you, Y/N.”

The air between you two felt thick, like time had slowed to a crawl. You blinked, trying to process what he had just said. You had known, of course, but hearing it out loud? It sent a strange warmth spreading through your chest.

Riki laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well… I really am terrible at this, huh?”

You shook your head, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. “Not terrible. Just… maybe a little too dramatic. But it’s kind of cute.”

Riki’s eyes widened, and for the briefest moment, it looked like he was holding his breath, waiting for you to say something else. “Cute?” he repeated, as if the word had just been a huge revelation.

You gave him a look, suddenly feeling a little more serious than you’d intended. “Yeah. You’re cute, Riki. But you’re also incredibly frustrating. I’ve had to watch you stumble through all of this… and I’ve liked you for a while, too.”

Riki’s mouth dropped open. “You liked me? But-wait, you knew?”

You smirked. “Riki, I’m not blind. I’ve noticed. But I didn’t want to just say it out loud, especially when you were trying so hard to not tell me.”

He grinned, the embarrassment melting away into something much more comfortable. “Well, I guess it’s nice to know I wasn’t just making a fool of myself for nothing.”

“You weren’t,” you replied softly. “But… just so you know, I think you’re the one who’s been making a fool of himself, not me.”

Riki’s face lit up with that stupid, goofy smile of his. “Hey, I’m fine with that. As long as it means we’re, you know, on the same page now.”

You nodded, feeling your heart do a little happy flip. “Yeah. Same page.”

Just then, Sunghoon, Sunoo, and the rest of the gang came walking down the hallway, practically hovering near Riki like they’d been waiting for the moment.

“Finally!” Sunghoon grinned, crossing his arms. “We’ve all been waiting for this.”

“Yeah, seriously, you two are so obvious,” Sunoo added with a smirk. “Took you long enough.”

Riki groaned, but you could see the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You guys were just as bad as I was, you know?”

Sunghoon laughed. “It was cute seeing you struggle, honestly.”

Riki sighed in defeat. “Alright, alright, I get it. I’m obviously a mess.” He looked at you, his expression softening again. “But at least I’m a mess with you now.”

You grinned back, the tension finally lifting. “Yeah, you are.”

As the group started walking toward the exit, Riki fell in step beside you. And for the first time in a while, it felt like the two of you weren’t just stumbling through this whole “relationship” thing. Maybe, just maybe, you were actually getting it right.

The Big Gesture

It had been a few weeks since the two of you had finally confessed your feelings, and everything felt like it was falling into place. The awkwardness was mostly gone, though Riki still couldn’t help but occasionally embarrass himself in the most hilarious ways. But now, it wasn’t just about the silly moments. It was about the real stuff-the moments where you could finally be yourselves without all the drama. Well, except for the good drama.

But Riki? Riki had been planning something. He wasn’t going to let things just coast along. No, he had to do something big, something memorable. He had been listening to all the advice his friends had been giving him-well, most of it anyway-and he had decided to take action. This time, he was going all out.

It was a Friday afternoon, and you were in your usual spot with Karina, Giselle, and Julie at lunch. You were chatting about the upcoming weekend plans when suddenly, you felt someone’s eyes on you.

You looked up to find Riki standing at the edge of the cafeteria, surrounded by his usual group of friends. But he wasn’t looking at you like usual. No, he was smiling-grinning, even-like he had some kind of secret. And that secret? You were about to find out.

He waved at you, his arms flailing in a way that made you almost roll your eyes. “Y/N! Come over here, I need to talk to you!”

You glanced at your friends. “What’s he doing now?”

Karina snickered. “I have no idea, but I’m ready for the drama. Let’s see what stupid thing he’s pulled this time.”

“Probably something that involves a microphone and a dance-off,” Giselle joked. “You know, classic Riki.”

But you stood up, curiosity getting the better of you. “Alright, alright. I’ll go see what this is about.”

When you reached Riki and his friends, they all looked at you with wide grins, clearly trying to hide something. Sunghoon was the first to speak up, his usual sarcasm oozing out. “Hey, Y/N. How’s it going? You know, Riki’s been planning something for you… and it’s definitely not a disaster. Not at all.”

Sunoo raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, no pressure. Totally foolproof plan here.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “What are you guys up to?”

Before anyone could answer, Riki suddenly stepped forward, his face almost serious-except for the small, nervous twitch in his eye. “So… I’ve been thinking about this for a while. And I figured it was time I did something big. You know, for you. Something that, uh… shows you just how much I like you.”

You blinked. “Wait, what? Are you serious? What are you planning?”

Riki grinned, a little too confidently. “Well, I can’t give everything away. But trust me, you’re gonna love it. Just meet me after school on the rooftop.”

You were about to say something more, but before you could, Sunghoon quickly added, “It’s going to be great. Just-no more questions. Just go.”

“I don’t trust any of you right now,” you muttered, but you agreed to meet him anyway. You were curious, after all.

Later that afternoon, as the school bell rang, you found yourself walking up the steps to the rooftop, your heart pounding a little faster than you’d like to admit. The rooftop was quiet, the sun beginning to set in the distance, casting a golden glow across the school.

As you reached the top, you saw Riki standing near the edge, his back turned to you. The breeze ruffled his hair as he turned to face you, his eyes twinkling with excitement and nervousness all at once.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice more serious than usual. “Thank you for giving me the chance to, well, be me around you. I know I’ve been a total mess… and yeah, I’m still not the best at this whole ‘romance’ thing. But I want you to know that you mean a lot to me.”

You were silent for a moment, your heart swelling at his words. He was so Riki-awkward, goofy, but somehow perfect in his own way.

Riki stepped forward, pulling out a small envelope from his pocket. He handed it to you with a nervous smile. “I wanted to write something for you. I thought maybe if I just, you know… talked about it, it wouldn’t have the same effect. So, um… here.”

You opened the envelope, reading the letter that he had written. It was sweet, surprisingly heartfelt, and completely Riki-filled with awkward metaphors about basketball and weird references. But underneath it all, it was clear that he meant every word.

“Riki,” you said softly, a smile tugging at your lips. “This is… this is sweet. And kind of embarrassing, but mostly really sweet.”

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, I mean, I didn’t think you’d want some perfect love letter. I wanted it to be real.”

You set the letter down on the ledge beside you, taking a deep breath. “I’ve always liked you, you know. I just… wasn’t sure if you were serious. But now? I think I get it. You’ve really put yourself out there.”

Riki’s eyes widened, and he took a step closer, a goofy smile spreading across his face. “So, does that mean…?”

You laughed softly. “Yeah, Riki. It means yes.”

There was a brief moment of silence, a beat of nervous energy in the air. Then, almost without thinking, Riki leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a soft, sweet kiss. It was like the entire world paused around you. There was no one else around, no interruptions, just the two of you.

It wasn’t some grand, dramatic kiss like you’d seen in movies. No, it was better. It was the kind of kiss that felt real, warm, and full of promise. The kind of kiss that told you that maybe all the embarrassing moments, the awkwardness, and the goofy gestures were worth it because they led to this moment.

When you pulled back, Riki was grinning like a fool. “So, uh, I guess that means I did the right thing, huh?”

You laughed, your heart still fluttering. “Yeah. You did.”

And just like that, the rooftop, the sunset, and the world seemed to align perfectly for both of you.

As you both made your way down the stairs, the rest of the gang appeared, jumping out from behind corners, from every direction-like they had been waiting for this exact moment.

“FINALLY!” Sunghoon yelled, throwing his hands up. “Took you two long enough!”

Sunoo smirked, crossing his arms. “I told you he’d pull this off. He��s actually not an idiot.”

Jake nodded seriously. “Riki? Actually doing something romantic? Who would’ve thought?”

Riki groaned, clearly embarrassed, but you just smiled, your hand slipping into his as you walked back down the hallway.

“You guys seriously had to follow us, huh?” you said with a playful eye roll.

Karina, Giselle, and Julie were standing nearby, all grinning like fools. “We knew this was coming,” Karina teased. “Just didn’t know it’d be so sweet.”

Julie grinned. “Honestly, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say Riki’s finally got his act together.”

And that was the moment-no big gestures needed, no speeches, just the quiet understanding that, in the end, everything had worked out. You’d both found something real, something worth celebrating.

And even though the teasing and jokes from your friends never stopped, you didn’t mind anymore. This was just the beginning of something amazing.

please comment, like, or reblog! those are highly appreciated

[justice4gyeongsu]

━━━ 'CHAPTER THIRTEEN' [WHEN DAWN BREAKS]

SYNOPSIS ➢ the power of being stuck in a storage closet makes some come together while others seem to stray away.

PAIRING ➢ lee suhyeok x male!reader

AU ➢ enemies-to-lovers au!

CONTENT WARNING ➢ this chapter contains; flashbacks, violence, alot of angst, signs of depression, jealousy, mentions of bullying, death, depression, some fluff, reoccuring ptsd, mentions of gore, blood, cannibalism [let me know if i missed any!]

NEXT I PREVIOUS

as morning breaks, the storage closet transforms. sunlight pours in through the few high windows, casting a warm glow on the space. the air is filled with the sweet sounds of birds chirping and crickets falling silent, a serene contrast to the chaos that has unfolded.

one by one, the group stirs, each person slowly rising to sit across the room in contemplative silence. the weight of the past few hours hangs heavy, as they process the loss of loved ones and the turmoil that has brought them to this place. but amidst the somber stillness, one figure remains motionless. you lie sleeping underneath a chair, wrapped in the gentle protection of onjo's sweater. your face is turned away from the windows, away from the world outside, as if seeking refuge from the pain and exhaustion that has consumed you.

in this moment, sleep is a welcome respite, a fleeting escape from the overwhelming emotions that threaten to engulf you. and as you rest, you can't help but feel a sense of resignation, a tempting desire to simply stay hidden away in this storage closet forever, shielded from the uncertainty and heartache that lies beyond.

onjo sits vigilantly beside you, her presence a gentle comfort as she watches over your slumber. she feels an overwhelming urge to care for you, to shield you from the world and its cruelties. her eyes soften as she gazes at your peaceful form, her heart filled with a deep affection for you and cheongsan, who sits quietly to her right.

as she looks at you, she's reminded of a young deer, vulnerable and alone, struggling to find its footing in a vast and unpredictable world. your tired, fragile appearance evokes a strong maternal instinct in her, and she feels a deep desire to protect and nurture you, to help you find your strength and resilience in the face of adversity.

wujin turns to his sister, his voice laced with concern, "noona, you didn't fail in the preliminaries, did you?" he asks, his eyes searching for reassurance. his sister hesitates, her gaze drifting away as she responds slowly, "no, i did really well." her voice is measured, but the lack of conviction is notiecable. wujin's curiosity is piqued, and he presses for more information, his tone gentle but insistent. "well, then what happened? why did you come back to the school if you won?" he senses that something is amiss, and his doubts begin to simmer just below the surface.

mijin, sensing the unease, intervenes with a light, conversational tone. "you're her brother?" she asks, sitting up a bit straighter, her interest piqued. wujin nods, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern, "yeah, i am."

mijin's face glows with pride as she gazes at hari, a smug smile spreading across her features. "you should know then that she got a perfect score, so she made it to the nationals," she reveals, her voice dripping with satisfaction. she adds a casual remark, "i saw her," to lend an air of authenticity to her statement.

wujin's eyes widen in awe as he turns back to his sister, a bright smile illuminating his face. "really?" he asks, his excitement palpable. "no way. you're really in nationals? does mom and dad know?" he presses, sitting up even straighter, his enthusiasm bubbling over.

however mijin's sarcastic tone quickly deflates his excitement. "gosh, you rascal, how could they know now? look around," she scoffs, her words a harsh reminder of their current circumstances. wujin's eyes dart away, his face flushing with embarrassment at his oversight. cheongsan's gentle reprimand interrupts the exchange, "hey guys, quiet down. y/n's still sleeping." wujin nods, chastened, and turns back to his sister, ready to ask another question, but mijin catches his eye, a warning glint in her own.

mijin's expression turns stern, her voice tinged with a mix of disappointment and amusement. "yah, she jumped out of the archery bus and ran to the school to find you. you little..." she trails off, smacking her lips in a gesture reminiscent of a disapproving aunt.

wujin's face contorts in disgust as mijin continues, her gaze drifting to hari, who remains lost in thought. "you be good to her," mijin instructs, her tone softening slightly. she pauses, a hint of pride creeping into her voice. "...and to me too." her eyes sparkle with amusement as she looks away, a subtle smile playing on her lips. wujin attempts to whisper to his sister, his voice barely audible as he tries to convey his confusion. "who is she and why does she keep talking for you?" his words are laced with a mix of curiosity and annoyance, but mijin's sharp ears pick up on the hushed conversation, her gaze flicking back to wujin with a knowing glint.

hari's gaze shifts to mijin, a faint smile playing on her lips. "she's my friend," she says, her voice soft and gentle. mijin's heart skips a beat as she processes hari's words, a thrill of excitement coursing through her veins. "yeah, we're... fucking besties," mijin agrees, her tone shy and hesitant, but her eyes sparkling with delight. wujin's reaction is immediate, his face contorting in distaste as he looks away, clearly uncomfortable with the exchange.

his gaze falls on daesu, who stands before them, a solemn expression etched on his face. wujin's eyes widen in surprise, and he mutters, "shit, you scared me." daesu's presence is unexpected, and wujin's words hang in the air as daesu prepares to speak, his expression somber and serious.

daesu clears his throat and looks down at his feet awkwardly. “i..” he trails off. “..you?” mijin tries to help him finish his sentence.

daesu's words tumble out in a rush, his voice barely above a whisper. "i think you're the perfect girl," he confesses, his chest rising with a deep breath, as if he's been holding the sentiment inside for far too long.

wujin's eyes dart between his friend, his sister, and back again, his expression a mix of shock and incredulity. "you freak..." he whispers, his voice laced with disbelief. the room falls silent, with all eyes fixed on the unfolding scene, except for two people - suhyeok and you.

suhyeok's gaze is captivated by your shoes, which lie neatly on top of each other, a testament to your orderly nature, even in rest. he sits transfixed, his eyes drinking in the sight of your belongings, his presence drawn to yours, even as you sleep. without drawing attention to himself, he subtly shifts his position, inching closer to your shoes, and by extension, to you. though he doesn't touch them, he feels a sense of comfort in being near, as if your presence is a soothing balm to his soul.

suhyeok's emotions are a tangled mess, a jumble of shame, regret, and self-reproach. his anger, a familiar companion for most of his life, has turned inward, and he's consumed by the memory of how he spoke to you the night before. the weight of his words hangs heavy, and he's tormented by the thought of how he treated someone as fragile yet resilient as you.

as he sits, his arms fold over his knees, and his head bows, resting on his arms. his gaze drifts upward, drinking in the sight of you, sleeping peacefully. his mind is a cacophony of recriminations, a constant, piercing criticism that echoes through his thoughts. the turmoil within him is a palpable, almost overwhelming force, as he struggles to come to terms with his actions and the emotions that drive him.

daesu's voice echoes through the room, his words tumbling out in a desperate, anguished cry. "why don't you understand? i really like you!" he shouts, his emotions raw and unbridled.

suhyeok's gaze had been fixed on you, lost in thought, but daesu's outburst snaps him back to reality. he's missed the chaos that erupted moments before, when hari's temper flared in response to daesu's confession. he's unaware of the punches and slaps that flew, or the way hari trapped daesu within a makeshift prison of metal racks, their wire mesh confines overflowing with sports balls of every shape and size.

but suhyeok's attention is riveted on you now, as your body jerks in response to daesu's sudden, ear-piercing shout. suhyeok's head snaps up, his eyes locking onto yours, his expression a mask of concern and alarm.

you stir, pulling your legs up and sliding out from underneath the chair, as the sudden shouting jolts you awake. your head darts wildly around the room, struggling to comprehend the chaos that's erupted. your eyes scan the space, drinking in the scene before you, as you try to shake off the remnants of sleep.

in your haste to stand, onjo's sweater slips off your shoulders, and you instinctively reach out to catch it, clutching it tightly to your chest. onjo and namra rush to your side, their hands extended in a calming gesture, as they try to reassure you that there's no danger.

but you're still disoriented, half-asleep, and struggling to process the mayhem that's unfolded. your gaze darts around the room, confusion etched on your face, as you try to make sense of the shouting, the commotion, and the worried expressions of those around you.

hari's voice drips with sarcasm as she turns to daesu, her eyes blazing with annoyance. "now look what you did. you woke up y/n, my dear husband," she says, her tone heavy with irony.

she lunges forward, trying to grab daesu, but he dodges and weaves, avoiding her grasp. "you attacked me first!" daesu protests, trying to reason with hari, but she's having none of it.

instead, she begins to hurl volleyballs at him, her aim true as she tries to pelt him with the balls. daesu ducks and dodges, desperate to avoid the flying projectiles as hari's anger continues to simmer, threatening to boil over at any moment.

mijin's voice is low and casual as she issues a gentle command, "yah, kid. go back to sleep." she slips her hands into her pockets, her demeanor nonchalant, as if trying to downplay the chaos that's erupted. your mind is still foggy, struggling to shake off the remnants of sleep. you nod slowly, your gaze drifting around the room in confusion. onjo seizes the opportunity, grasping the hem of your pants and gently tugging you down to sit beside her. you follow her lead, still disoriented, and settle in next to her.

meanwhile, suhyeok's eyes hold a glimmer of hope, a fleeting wish that you might glance in his direction. but even in your tired, bewildered state, your instincts don't lead you to seek him out. suhyeok's gaze lingers, a mixture of longing and resignation, as he watches you settle in beside onjo, his hopes dashed, if only for the moment.

onjo gently cradles your head in her lap, softly laying her sweater back over you. your eyelids grow heavy, and you succumb to sleep once more, the warmth and comfort of onjo's lap a soothing balm to your exhausted mind and body. the transition is seamless, and you're asleep again within mere minutes, a testament to your deep fatigue.

mijin's voice cuts through the din, her tone detached as she ignores the ongoing commotion between hari and daesu. "gosh, i never thought i'd see that brat again," she remarks, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes.

hroryeong's curiosity is piqued, and she asks, "you know y/n?" her confusion evident, as she tries to piece together the connection between mijin and you. mijin's response is smooth, a subtle smile playing on her lips. "yeah, we go way back," she says, the statement a blatant fabrication, but one that goes unchallenged in the moment, even by you, who slumber peacefully, oblivious to the conversation.

mijin's gaze sweeps the group, a small smirk still playing on her lips. "glad to see the guy actually has some other friends," she says, her tone laced with a hint of dry humor. the group exchanges small smiles, a sense of warmth and camaraderie evident in their expressions, as they reflect on the bonds that have formed between you and them over the past few days.

wujin's voice cuts in, a hint of smugness creeping into his tone. "y/n and i were childhood friends, actually," he says, crossing his arms over his chest, a self-satisfied smile playing on his lips. mijin's gaze lingers on wujin, her expression unreadable. after a beat, she responds, her voice measured, "oh yeah?" her tone invites wujin to elaborate, and he nods, still not meeting her gaze. "yup, spent almost every day together," wujin says, a faraway look creeping into his eyes, as if he's genuinely reminiscing about fond memories. however, the hint of smugness still lingers, suggesting that wujin might be embellishing the truth, or at least, enjoying the attention.

mijin lets out a dismissive scoff, a proud smile spreading across her face. "yeah, well, y/n and i are pretty close," she says, her voice dripping with confidence. "i mean, we're practically family. you know, he calls me noona instead of sunbae?" she adds, the claim a blatant fabrication, but one she delivers with conviction.

joonyeong and suhyeok exchange a look of annoyance, their expressions a testament to their skepticism. they return their attention to the exchange between mijin and wujin, their gazes neutral.wujin responds, a hint of smugness creeping into his tone. "i mean, that's cool, but i think since i've known him longer, i'd say we were closer." he adds a casual "just saying" to his statement, but the underlying competitiveness is palpable.

mijin's gaze snaps to wujin, her eyes narrowing into an annoyed glare. the air is thick with tension as the two engage in a silent stare-down, each attempting to outdo the other in their claims of closeness to you.

mijin's eyes narrow, her gaze piercing as she scrutinizes wujin. "that's funny," she says, her voice laced with skepticism. "last time we spoke, he told me he didn't have any friends." her tone implies that wujin's claims of a close relationship with you are dubious, at best.

wujin hesitates, his eyes darting around the room as he searches for a response. but before he can speak, mijin presses on, her words dripping with challenge. "honestly, he never even mentioned your name." the statement hangs in the air, a gauntlet thrown, as mijin awaits wujin's response.

wujin's chuckle is nervous, a forced attempt to diffuse the tension. he's clearly caught off guard by mijin's revelation, and his mind is racing to come up with a plausible explanation. the room falls silent, all eyes fixed on the exchange between mijin and wujin, as even daesu and hari pause in their argument, intrigued by the sudden drama unfolding before them.

mijin's voice rises, her anger and frustration simmering just below the surface. "actually, he said everyone was pretty much against him because he's..." she begins, her words trailing off as she meets wujin's gaze. suddenly, she realizes what she's about to reveal, and her expression freezes. she gulps, her throat constricting, before clearing her throat and looking away, her anger and frustration boiling over. "ugh, nevermind, you little brat," she mutters, her voice laced with irritation, as she scratches her cheek in frustration. the tension in the room is palpable, until cheongsan speaks up, his voice calm and soothing. "we know," he says, his eyes drifting to your peaceful form, still slumbering away. "it's not a big deal, so let's not make it one." his words are a gentle rebuke, a reminder to mijin to let the matter drop.mijin's eyebrows furrow, her eyes narrowing suspiciously as she turns to cheongsan. "you know... what?" she asks, her voice low and even, as if daring him to reveal how much he really knows.

daesu's voice is barely audible, his words whispered as if sharing a secret that's too sensitive for outsiders to hear. "he's gay," he says, his tone conspiratorial, as if the storage closet is a confessional.the room falls silent, with no one responding or reacting. joonyeong breaks the silence, giving a thumbs up, a subtle acknowledgment of daesu's revelation.

mijin's expression transforms, her suspicion giving way to a warm smile. she nods, seeming to accept the information, before sitting up, a mischievous glint in her eye. "okay, thank god," she says, chuckling to herself, "cause i wanted to ask him more questions about his love life, and it would've been hard with all you brats here."

hroryeong and onjo exchange a look, their expressions bored, before shrugging and focusing on their skirts, playing with the fabric as if seeking distraction from the conversation. their nonchalant attitude is a stark contrast to mijin's enthusiasm, and the tension in the room begins to dissipate, replaced by a sense of mundane normalcy.

suhyeok abruptly rises to his feet, his eyes fixed on the metal ball containers stacked below him. with a sudden burst of energy, he begins to kick and clang against the containers, testing their sturdiness. the loud rattling noise fills the room, causing everyone to turn their heads in unison, seeking the source of the commotion.

joonyeong is the first to react, getting up from his seat to approach suhyeok. "what's going on?" he asks, a hint of curiosity in his voice. suhyeok pauses, his chest heaving slightly, as he explains, "i was just wondering if we can move these things."

joonyeong's expression changes, a spark of understanding igniting in his eyes. he begins to think critically, his mind racing with the possibilities. he starts to envision ways to utilize the metal containers to their advantage, his gaze drifting back to suhyeok, a nod of appreciation on his face.

suhyeok's words spark a flurry of activity, as everyone rises to their feet, united in their efforts to create a makeshift shield. "we can tie all the carts in a circle, then we can use them as a shield," suhyeok explains, his idea igniting a sense of purpose in the group.

as the others begin to work together, gathering zip ties and securing the carts in a circular formation, suhyeok's gaze meets onjo's. onjo's eyes had been fixed on your sleeping form, a look of quiet contemplation on her face. suhyeok's eyes lock onto onjo's, and onjo responds with a subtle nod, as if acknowledging suhyeok's unspoken understanding.

onjo's hands gently cradle your head, her fingers stroking your hair with a soothing gentleness. the calm, peaceful atmosphere surrounding you is a stark contrast to the bustling activity around the makeshift shield. as the group works together, their movements become a blur of efficiency, united in their determination to protect and defend.

the storage room transforms into a flurry of activity, as everyone works together, pooling their resources and skills to create a formidable barrier. tool boxes and crates are raided, yielding a treasure trove of random supplies that are quickly repurposed for their defense.

joonyeong, wujin, and hroryeong scour the room, gathering an assortment of ropes, including jump-ropes, to secure the carts in place. meanwhile, cheongsan and daesu work in tandem, holding the carts together in a circular formation, as they await the ropes to tie everything together.

suhyeok, ever the climber, attempts to scale a nearby shelf, his eyes scanning the top for any equipment that might aid in their defense. his movements are agile and precise, as he searches for anything that might give them an edge.

nearby, namra, mijin, and hari engage in a heated discussion, debating the merits of adding a top section to their makeshift shield. "we should add a top part," namra suggests, "so they can't climb over." hari nods in agreement, while mijin chimes in, her voice filled with determination. "yeah, we can't let those zombies get the drop on us." the trio continues to brainstorm, their conversation flowing easily, as they work together to fortify their defenses.

the sense of harmony and cooperation is shattered in an instant, as onjo's leg jolts, startling you awake. you sit up with a jolt, your eyes scanning the room, and your ears assaulted by the sound of screaming. but it's not hari's voice that fills the air - it's mijin's.

"you piece of shit! who do you think you are?" mijin's words are venomous, her face twisted in rage, as she shoves joonyeong with all her might. suhyeok attempts to intervene, but he's no match for mijin's fury.

you leap to your feet, your voice ringing out across the room. "yah! what's going on?" you demand, your eyes scanning the scene before you. mijin's anger is still simmering, her finger jabbing accusingly at joonyeong. "ask your idiot friend," she spits, her tone dripping with malice. joonyeong's face is a mask of anger, his eyes blazing with a fierce intensity. wujin steps in, his voice laced with annoyance. "we shouldn't fight like this, especially not now," he says, his words a plea for calm in the midst of chaos.

suhyeok tells them both to stop but joonyeong pushes his hand away from him, “who the hell is she to tell us we have to redo it?”

mijin's expression twists in scorn, her voice dripping with venom. "your fucking nightmare, that's who!" she retorts, her anger and frustration boiling over. she attempts to take a step forward, but suhyeok once again intervenes, his body positioning itself between mijin and joonyeong.

suhyeok's voice rises, his tone firm but calm. "look, we're in this together, so let's not make it harder than it needs to be," he says, his eyes darting between mijin and joonyeong, as he strives to mediate the conflict.

your gaze falls on suhyeok, and for a moment, the tension between mijin and joonyeong fades into the background. memories of the previous night's encounter with suhyeok come flooding back, and your face flushes with a mix of desire and embarrassment. the feelings are still raw, and you're not ready to confront them. your anger and frustration serve as a convenient shield, allowing you to push those memories aside, at least for the time being.

“youre gonna die out there if you don't listen to me,” mijin sneered at joonyeong who rolled his eyes. “you think im putting it up cause i wanna die? no!” joonyeong responded back, “stop acting like you're better than us just because you're not in the same grade as us.” he huffed in annoyance at mijins fiery spirit. however mijin took that as disrespect.

the atmosphere is electric with animosity as mijin and joonyeong engage in a heated exchange. but your calm and authoritative voice cuts through the chaos, bringing the argument to an abrupt halt. "both of you stop, we can discuss this in a better way than screaming at each other," you say firmly, your words commanding attention.

the room falls silent, with all eyes on you. you notice namra's gaze fixed intently on you, her eyes having been on you the entire time. you flash her a soft smile, accompanied by a subtle smirk that only she can see. "what do we do, class president?" you ask, your voice low and gentle.

namra's expression remains serene, but she raises her head slightly, her eyes locked on yours. "we'll vote on it," she declares, her voice clear and decisive. the room remains silent for a moment, before namra instructs everyone to gather around, her words sparking a sense of anticipation and expectation.

you position yourself beside cheongsan and mijin, leaning casually against the cart as namra begins to outline the options. "one, we split up," she says, her voice clear and concise. but instead of sparking a debate, her words are met with an uncomfortable silence. no one raises their hand, the reluctance to split up palpable in the air.

namra's expression remains neutral, her eyes scanning the group as she continues. "two, we stick together," she says, and this time, the response is overwhelmingly in favor. one by one, hands begin to rise, some more hesitant than others. the consensus is clear: sticking together is the preferred option, and the group's collective relief is almost tangible.

namra's voice is calm and authoritative as she announces, "alright, that means we are staying together." but before she can continue, daesu and mijin's disagreement threatens to boil over into a full-blown argument. you intervene, firmly telling them to "shut up and listen." they both reluctantly comply, their faces still stormy with discontent. namra seizes the opportunity to press on, her voice steady. "anyways, one, we make the outside higher." joonyeong's hand shoots up first, followed by suhyeok, onjo, and cheongsan. you hesitate, weighing your options, and just as you're about to raise your hand, mijin's death stare freezes you in place. you flash her a small, conciliatory smile before lowering your hand.

but you're not willing to abandon your opinion entirely. when mijin's attention is diverted, you slyly mouth to namra, "count me too." it's a subtle gesture, one that allows you to register your support without openly defying mijin's glare. namra's eyes flicker to yours, a hint of understanding in their depths, before she continues with the discussion.

namra's voice continues, steady and clear, as she presents the second option. "two, we fold the lids to make a box." mijin's hand springs up instantly, followed by hroryeong, wujin, and hari. mijin's eyes dart to you, expecting to see your hand raised in agreement. but your hand remains still, and you deliberately avoid her gaze, pretending to focus on something else.

mijin's reaction is immediate and intense. she mutters a curse under her breath before elbowing you sharply on your injured arm. the pain is sudden and intense, and you can't help but groan in response. but despite the discomfort, you lift your other arm in a show of solidarity with mijin, though you carefully shake your head at namra, indicating that you don't actually support the second option. the gesture is a delicate balancing act, one that aims to placate mijin's temper without compromising your own opinions.

namra's announcement is met with a mixture of reactions. "majority votes for option one. we'll be building the barricade higher," she declares, her voice firm and decisive. some members of the group rejoice, seemingly pleased with the outcome, while others remain stoic.

mijin, however, speaks up, her voice tinged with a hint of challenge. "what about your vote?" she asks, her eyes fixed intently on namra. the question hangs in the air, implying that namra's own vote might have swung the decision in a particular direction. the group's attention is now focused on namra, awaiting her response to mijin's inquiry.

namra's blank stare speaks volumes before she finally announces, "i go with one." the decision is met with a mixture of reactions, but mijin's disappointment is palpable. she lets out a curse under her breath, clearly unhappy about losing the vote.

you try to offer some comfort, patting her back as everyone starts to build the shield. "hey, if you ever get mad again, just know i was on your side," you whisper with a small smile. but mijin isn't buying it - she knows you're lying, and she gives you a small glare to prove it. "you moron, this is what i get from treating you so well?" she says, hopping off the cart and motioning for you to help her drill the boards to the carts. despite the tension, you can't help but notice the way mijin's eyes sparkle with annoyance, and you can't help but feel a twinge of amusement at the situation.

"hurry up," you say, following mijin with a small smile. you're trying not to laugh at how adorable she is when she's sulking. it's been a whirlwind few days, and to say you've built a lot of things is a massive understatement. you've been pushed to your limits, and your skills have been put to the test.

as you work alongside mijin, you can't help but think about the future. once this ordeal is over, you're going to have a slew of new skills to add to your resume. you're not sure what kind of job you'll be applying for, but you're confident that your experiences will make you a strong candidate. the thought is a comforting one, and it gives you the motivation to keep going, even in the face of adversity.

as you kneel down to drill the wood panels, mijin holds them in place, her hands steady and firm. your focus is solely on the task at hand, the sound of the drill filling the air. around you, the others are working on different aspects of the barricade. namra is carefully holding down a nail that will secure a makeshift mattress to the metal cart's pole, while suhyeok is supposed to be attaching a zip tie to hold it in place.

but suhyeok's attention is elsewhere, his gaze drifting across the room to settle on you. he's noticed little things about you as he's spent more time with you, like the way you react to mijin's teasing. she calls you a moron, and you don't bat an eye, but when myungwhan used to say the same thing, you'd get defensive. suhyeok's observations are subtle, but they reveal a deeper understanding of your personality and dynamics within the group.

suhyeok's observations of you have given him a glimpse into your emotional intelligence. he's realized that you're able to distinguish between people who are genuinely trying to hurt you and those who are simply joking around. it's a subtle but important distinction, and one that speaks to your ability to navigate complex social dynamics.

just as suhyeok is lost in thought, namra's soft voice breaks the spell. "staring isn't going to help us get done faster," she says, her tone gentle but pointed. suhyeok's head snaps towards her, his expression a picture of innocence. he blinks slowly, his eyes wide with feigned nonchalance. for a moment, suhyeok tries to come up with an explanation for his behavior, but he quickly thinks better of it. instead, he focuses on tying down the zip tie, his movements sudden and deliberate. it's clear that he's trying to avoid an unwanted conversation, and he's willing to do whatever it takes to steer the focus back to the task at hand.

namra's gaze lingers on suhyeok for a moment, her eyes sparkling with a hint of amusement. she seems to sense that there's more to suhyeok's behavior than meets the eye. slowly, she looks around the room, taking in the sights and sounds of the group's industrious efforts.

her eyes scan the space, lingering on mijin and you as you work together, before moving on to joonyeong and the others. finally, her gaze comes back to rest on suhyeok, who's still intently focused on securing the zip tie. namra's voice is low and casual as she asks, "suhyeok, do you... like y/n?" her words are dropped like a stone into a still pond, causing ripples of tension to spread through the air. suhyeok's hands freeze, the zip tie momentarily forgotten, as he struggles to come up with a response. suhyeok's ears turn a brilliant shade of red as namra's question hangs in the air. he's frozen in place, his body as still as a statue, as he struggles to process his emotions. it's clear that he's unsure of how to respond, and the silence that follows namra's question is oppressive.

just as it seems like suhyeok is about to implode from embarrassment, daesu ambles over, a look of annoyance on his face. "hey, suhyeok, can we switch?" he asks, patting suhyeok on the back. "wujin keeps yelling at me, and i'm getting tired of it." daesu's interruption is a welcome distraction, and suhyeok's frozen state begins to thaw. he blinks slowly, his eyes darting towards daesu as he tries to process the sudden change in conversation. namra's question is left hanging, unanswered, as the group's attention shifts to daesu's complaint.

wujin stands up from his kneeling position, a look of exasperation on his face. "he's always complaining that he's hungry," wujin says, his voice tinged with frustration. "i'm trying to focus on getting this done, and all he can think about is his stomach."

daesu shoots back, "hey, i'm starving! we've been working for hours, and i haven't eaten anything since..." he looks around the group, hoping to garner some sympathy, but wujin just rolls his eyes. "you're always hungry, daesu," wujin says, shaking his head. "it's like you have a bottomless pit for a stomach." the group chuckles at wujin's comment, and the tension is momentarily broken. suhyeok, still looking a bit flustered from namra's earlier question, takes a deep breath and tries to compose himself. as the sound of your drill momentarily stops, cheongsan suddenly speaks up, his voice low and barely audible. he mutters something underneath his breath, and you strain to catch the words. at first, you're not sure what he said, but then you pick up on a single word that makes your ears perk up: "chocolate". you're not sure what cheongsan is talking about, or why he's mentioning chocolate out of the blue. but the word itself is enough to spark a sudden craving within you. you can't help but wonder if there's any chocolate to be found in their current surroundings, or if cheongsan is just taunting you with the mention of it.

as everyone turns towards cheongsan, they're met with a surprising sight: he's holding an unopened chocolate bar in his hand. the room falls silent for a moment, before suddenly erupting into a flurry of activity. people start gathering around cheongsan, their eyes fixed greedily on the chocolate bar.

you can't help but be drawn in, your curiosity getting the better of you. daesu is the first to make a move, quickly snatching the chocolate bar out of cheongsan's hand. "let me see," he says, examining the package with a critical eye.

after a moment, daesu looks up, a hint of disappointment on his face. "it's expired," he announces, as if that's the final nail in the coffin. but suhyeok is undeterred. "who cares?" he says, a mischievous glint in his eye. "we can still eat it."the room falls silent again, as everyone considers suhyeok's words. then, slowly, a murmur of agreement starts to build. "we can take small bites," someone suggests. "just to calm our hunger a bit."

the discussion quickly gains momentum, with everyone chiming in with their opinions. it's clear that the prospect of sharing the chocolate bar is a tantalizing one, and no one wants to miss out.

the group forms a circle, the chocolate bar placed in the center. one by one, each person takes a small bite, savoring the sweet, rich flavor before passing it on to the next person. as the chocolate bar continues to make its way around the circle, you find yourself standing between suhyeok and cheongsan. you can't help but stare at the chocolate, your eyes fixed on the decreasing size of the bar. with each passing bite, your mouth waters more and more, and you can feel your hunger pangs growing stronger.

the chocolate bar is getting smaller and smaller, and you can feel a sense of urgency building up inside you. you hope that there will be enough left for everyone to have another bite, but as you glance around the circle, you realize that might not be the case.

as suhyeok brings the chocolate bar up to his mouth, you're completely entranced, your eyes fixed on the sweet treat. but as he pauses, his gaze meeting yours, you realize that you're staring directly at him, your eyes locked on his lips. the air seems to freeze around you, and for a moment, it's as if time has stopped. suhyeok's eyes narrow slightly, his expression unreadable, as he takes in the sight of you staring up at him with an unguarded intensity. your eyes, wide and unblinking, seem to be begging for something, and suhyeok's gaze lingers on yours, his face inches from yours. for a moment, it's as if the entire room has melted away, leaving only the two of you, suspended in a moment of charged anticipation.

the room falls silent, with everyone staring at suhyeok and you with a mixture of confusion and awkwardness. it's as if they're all waiting for something to happen, but nothing does. except for namra, who seems to sense that something is off. she elbows suhyeok gently, as if to snap him out of a trance. suhyeok blinks, his expression unchanged, and looks down at the chocolate bar still clutched in his hand.

and that's when he realizes, with a flush of embarrassment, that you were never actually looking at suhyeok's face. you were still fixated on the chocolate bar, your eyes glued to the sweet treat. suhyeok's face hadn't moved, and you were just... staring at the chocolate.

suhyeok clears his throat, a faint blush rising to his cheeks. he hesitates for a moment before offering you the chocolate bar, his eyes locking onto yours with a hint of uncertainty. "here," he says, his voice a little softer than usual. "you can take a bigger bite. it'll count for both of us."

daesu's eyes widen in protest, and he lets out a dramatic whine. "hey, no way! that's not fair!" he complains, his hands on his hips. "we're supposed to be sharing equally!" the group chuckles at daesu's outburst, and suhyeok shoots him a wry glance. "it's just a little more chocolate, daesu," he says, his voice tinged with amusement. "don't be so greedy."

you take the chocolate bar from suhyeok, your fingers brushing against his as you do so. but as you're about to thank him, you suddenly remember the words he spoke to you the night before. "i'm just gonna leave you alone." the memory of those words sparks a flicker of anger within you, and you feel your expression harden.

"no thanks," you say curtly, your voice devoid of gratitude. "i'm not that hungry anymore." you quickly pass the chocolate bar on to cheongsan, who takes a bite with a look of enthusiasm. suhyeok's eyes narrow slightly, a hint of confusion and hurt flickering across his face. but you don't meet his gaze, instead turning away and focusing on the task at hand. the tension between you and suhyeok is palpable, and the group's mood seems to shift in response.

suhyeok's eyes linger on you, his expression a mixture of surprise and curiosity. he seems to be studying you, trying to read the emotions behind your actions. and then, it clicks. he realizes that you're not the same person you were before. you're not the pushover people thought you were. he can sense that you've built a wall around your heart, a high, impenetrable barrier that's guarded with military-grade weapons. and he knows that those weapons are aimed directly at him.

you walk past suhyeok, your eyes fixed on namra, who's leaning against one of the metal racks, a look of quiet observation on her face. you make your way towards her, your footsteps echoing through the room.

as you approach, namra pushes off from the rack and watches you with a concerned expression. you sit down on the floor, your back against the rack, and close your eyes, taking a deep breath. the cool air fills your lungs, and you feel a sense of calm wash over you. you can hear the muffled sounds of the others, but they seem distant, unimportant. all that matters is this moment, this breath, and the sense of peace that comes with it. namra sits down beside you, her presence a comforting silence. she doesn't say anything, doesn't try to offer words of comfort or advice. she simply sits with you, a steady, reassuring presence in a chaotic world.

as you sit there, eyes closed, focusing on your breath, you're not even aware of namra's presence beside you. you're too caught up in your own attempt to escape, to temporarily forget about the dire circumstances that surround you.

mijin sits down in front of you and namra, her eyes scanning your faces as she takes in your calm expressions. for a moment, she just looks at you, a hint of curiosity on her face. then, as if drawn in by the peaceful atmosphere, mijin closes her own eyes and takes a deep breath. she sits down, her back straight, and begins to focus on her own breathing.

the three of you sit in silence, your eyes closed, your faces serene. you look like a meditation class, with you as the instructor guiding your students through a peaceful exercise. mijin and namra seem completely absorbed in the moment, their breathing slow and steady. meanwhile, wujin whispers to joonyeong, nodding discreetly in your direction. "what's going on with them?" he asks, his voice barely audible. joonyeong looks up from his project, his eyes squinting slightly as he takes in the scene. he shrugs, his expression uninterested. "no idea," he says, his voice equally quiet. "maybe they're just really into... breathing."

wujin raises an eyebrow, but joonyeong's already gone back to his project, his focus solely on the task at hand. he's still nursing a grudge about not getting any chocolate, thanks to daesu's sneaky snacking. the memory of that injustice still rankles him, and he's not about to let some mysterious meditation session distract him from his work.

as the three of you continue to sit in silence, the rest of the group begins to take notice. daesu, still licking his fingers from the last bite of chocolate, looks over at you with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. cheongsan and suhyeok exchange a glance, their expressions unreadable.

but joonyeong remains focused on his project, his eyes fixed intently on the task at hand. wujin, on the other hand, can't seem to tear his gaze away from the three of you, his eyes fixed on your peaceful faces with a mixture of fascination and confusion.

as you sit in silence, your mind begins to wander to a different time and place. you visualize yourself sitting on the couch in your living room, surrounded by the warm and comforting familiarity of home. your father is sitting beside you, a big smile on his face as the two of you laugh together.

the memory is so vivid, so real, that you can almost feel the softness of the couch beneath you, and the warmth of your father's presence beside you. you can almost hear the sound of his laughter, deep and rich, and feel the way it makes you feel happy and safe.

but as the memory washes over you, it's followed by a wave of sadness and longing. you realize that it's been a while since you last thought about your father, and that's a painful admission. you miss him dearly, and the not knowing - not knowing if he's even alive - is a constant ache in your heart. your eyes begin to sting, and you feel a lump form in your throat. you try to push the emotions away, to focus on the calm and peacefulness of the moment. but it's hard to shake the feeling of loss and longing that's settled over you.

namra's eyes remain closed, but a subtle smile plays on her lips as she visualizes herself sitting on top of a high building. the wind blows gently, carrying warm rays of sunshine that dance across her skin. she feels carefree, unencumbered by worries or responsibilities.

in her mind's eye, she's alone at first, savoring the peace and quiet. but then, she notices a presence beside her. she doesn't need to look to know it's you. she can sense your calm energy, your quiet contemplation. as she "sees" you standing beside her, looking out at the other buildings, a soft smile spreads across her face. it's an unconscious gesture, a reflexive response to the sense of comfort and companionship she feels with you by her side. the smile lingers on her lips, a gentle, serene expression that reflects the peace and tranquility of the moment.

mijin's eyes remain closed, a subtle nod of her head the only outward sign of the vibrant scene unfolding in her mind. she visualizes herself in her own room, surrounded by the familiar comforts of home. her headphones are clamped firmly over her ears, the rich sounds of her favorite rap tracks pulsating through the speakers.

as the music washes over her, mijin starts to rap along, her lips moving silently as she mouths the words. her hands begin to gesture, weaving intricate patterns in the air as she channels the swagger and confidence of her favorite artists. the bass thumps and bumps, the vibrations resonating deep within her bones. mijin feels alive, energized by the music and the freedom of expression it brings. her entire being seems to vibrate with the rhythm, her very essence infused with the raw energy of the rap.

in this private world of sound and motion, mijin is unstoppable, a force of nature unencumbered by the worries and cares of the outside world. she's lost in the music, and the music is lost in her.

wujin walks over to the three of you, his eyes scanning your peaceful faces with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. he squats down in front of you, his voice loud and jarring as he speaks. "what's going on here?" he asks, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "are you guys having some kind of meditation party or something?" he gazes at each of you in turn, his eyes lingering on your calm expressions. "you know, i didn't realize we were in a zen monastery. i thought we were stuck in a storage closet in our school gym." wujin's words are like a splash of cold water, disrupting the peaceful atmosphere you'd managed to create. you feel a jolt of annoyance at his interruption, but you try to maintain your calm demeanor.

namra lets out a soft sigh, her eyes still closed, as if reluctant to leave the peaceful state she'd achieved. mijin, on the other hand, smacks her lips in annoyance, her eyes snapping open to glare at wujin. "men ruin everything," she mutters, her voice dripping with exasperation, as she gets to her feet. namra follows suit, her movements graceful and fluid. as she stands up, she turns to you and smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corners. it's a warm, comforting smile, and you feel a sense of solidarity with her. you take a deep breath, feeling the calmness begin to seep away, and get to your feet as well. the three of you stand there for a moment, a sense of shared understanding passing between you, before

mijin turns and walks away, namra following close behind.

wujin's face reddens as he stutters, "w-wait,!" he takes a step forward, his eyes darting between mijin and namra as he defends himself. "y/n is a man too!" he exclaims, as if that somehow justifies his behavior. just then, hroryeong walks into the conversation, a sly grin spreading across her face. "a good one!" she says, as she rolls her eyes at wujin. “the special treatment is getting out of hand..” wujin sighs defeated while going to cheongsan who patted him on the back.

you shake your head, a smile still playing on your lips, as you watch the exchange between wujin and hroryeong. your hair falls across your forehead, partially covering your eyes, and you absently brush it aside, your fingers grazing your skin.

as you move your hair, you catch a glimpse of yourself in your mind's eye, and you can't help but think that your hair must look completely flat and lifeless. you've been cooped up in this place for who knows how long, and you haven't exactly had access to a salon or even a decent hairbrush. you sigh to yourself, wondering what you must look like to the others.

as mijin swiftly changes the subject, the atmosphere shifts and everyone begins to prepare for what's to come. the room fills with the sound of rustling fabrics, clicking buckles, and the occasional grunt as people struggle to get into their gear. knee pads, chest padding, and elbow guards are all being strapped on, each person determined to be ready.

you, meanwhile, are rummaging through a box tucked away on a high shelf, your fingers searching for the perfect pair of protective gloves. as you pull out a pair of worn leather gloves, you wonder if they're from a hockey set – the padding on the palms and the reinforced fingers seem to suggest it. you quickly lace them up, tightening the straps around your wrists until they feel secure. a quick flex of your fingers confirms that you can still grasp objects without issue.

just as you're finishing up, your gaze falls upon a mysterious object tucked away between two crates. it's a thick, metal... something, and it seems to be beckoning you. without thinking, you reach in and wrap your gloved hand around it, feeling a satisfying weight to it. it's heavy, but not unmanageable. as you pull it out, you can't help but wonder what it is, and what it's used for.

as you grasp the mysterious object, you notice a white cover enveloping it, shaped like a long, slender stick. your curiosity piqued, you search for a zipper and, upon finding it, slowly unzip the cover. the sound of the zipper giving way is followed by a collective gasp as the object within is revealed: a sword.

at first glance, it's reminiscent of a fencing sword, but the blade's thickness tells a different story. as you carefully pull the sword from its cover, it emits a clear, ringing sound – a "shling" that sends shivers down your spine. you can't help but stare in awe, the sword's beauty and craftsmanship leaving you breathless.

this is undoubtedly an upgrade from the hammer, and you can't wait to try it out. your friends, equally captivated, gather around, their eyes wide with wonder. "wow!" mijin exclaims, her voice barely above a whisper.

joonyeong, meanwhile, rushes over to you, his glasses slipping down his nose as he takes in the sight of the sword. "where did you find that?" he asks, his voice filled with excitement.

daesu, not one to be left out, chimes in, "yah! see if there's one more!" but before you can respond, joonyeong speaks up, his eyes still fixed on the sword.

"there isn't another one," he says, his voice laced with a mix of disappointment and reverence. he looks up at you, his eyes shining with excitement. "do you know what this is?" he asks, but you can only shake your head, feeling a bit like a deer caught in the headlights.

joonyeong turns to the others, a sly grin spreading across his face. "this, my friends, is a damn hanwei katana." wujin and cheongsan spring to their feet, their eyes wide with astonishment. "you're telling me someone just casually stashed a limited edition katana in our school's dusty auditorium?" wujin asks incredulously, his voice dripping with skepticism. "what an idiot," he mutters under his breath, shaking his head. "that belongs in a glass case, not collecting dust in some forgotten corner of the school."

hari rolls her eyes good-naturedly at her brother's outburst, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "it's gotta be destiny that you found it here," she says, her voice filled with a sense of wonder.

joonyeong's expression turns serious as he looks at you, his eyes burning with intensity. "this is no ordinary sword," he says, his voice low and measured. "it's a powerful symbol, one that demands respect and caution."

taken aback by joonyeong's solemnity, you clear your throat before offering a awkward smile. "i guess it's about time i had some good karma," you say, trying to lighten the mood.

joonyeong's expression remains serious as he hands the sword back to you. "listen, you need to be careful if you're going to use this," he warns, his voice firm but concerned. "one wrong move, and you could slice someone's hand off." you nod soberly, feeling a sense of responsibility wash over you as you take the sword back.

you carefully slide the sword back into its cover, the sound of the zipper echoing through the air as everyone around you scrambles to arm themselves. metal baseball bats and sharp objects are distributed among the group, each person preparing to defend themselves. you tie the sword's belt around your waist, tightening it until the weight of the sword feels secure against your hip. suhyeok hands a baseball bat to cheongsan, his voice low and serious. "i'll take point, you cover our backs." cheongsan nods, his grip on the bat tightening as the group begins to form a tight circle.

metal crates are pushed into place around them, forming a makeshift barricade. mijin's voice trembles slightly as she speaks, her fear protruding. "you better be right about this,” joonyeong nods, “we've seen so many zombies already... they're not smart enough for this." joonyeong's expression remains calm, reassuring.

“lets do this!”

everything unfolded in a chaotic blur, your brain struggled to keep pace. fragmented images sear themselves into your mind: joonyeong's face contorted in agony, hroryeong's tears streaming down her face as she cowers beside you. your legs tremble beneath you, muscles screaming in protest as you push with every ounce of strength you possess. cheongsan's frantic yells echo in your ears, urging you to keep pushing, to keep fighting.

as the chaos subsided, you're left sitting in stunned silence, exhaustion washing over you like a wave. the same feeling of numbness, of detachment, that you experienced when you were trapped in that car comes flooding back. it's as if life itself has lost all meaning, leaving you feeling empty and hollow. why has this feeling returned? what triggered it? the questions swirl in your mind, but the answers remain elusive. what even happened? what is happening now.

you're lost in a world of silence, oblivious to mijin's repeated attempts to rouse you. but then, as if a switch has been flipped, your hearing suddenly returns to normal. "y/n!" mijin's voice cuts through the fog, and you turn to her in confusion. she's standing beside you, her expression a mix of concern and urgency. "cmon, we need to go," she says, trying to sound harsh but failing miserably. she knows all too well what you're going through, and her words come out laced with empathy.

you blink once, twice, and suddenly the world around you snaps into focus. you're sitting outside the gym, the bright sunlight a stark contrast to the darkness you'd faced just moments before. and then you see him - onjo's father, embracing cheongsan in a tight hug. memories come flooding back, and you recall the desperation, the feeling of being trapped. the doors had been locked, impassable... until they weren't. a man in a green bomber jacket had appeared, his face etched with the same exhaustion and terror that you felt. he'd been through the same hell, and somehow, he'd managed to unlock the doors and save you all.

you gaze down at your hands, surprised to find them steady and still. normally, they'd be shaking uncontrollably, but not today. today, they're calm, serene even. you can't help but wonder why. everyone around you seems to be trembling with fear, their eyes wide with anxiety. but you... you're numb. your gaze drifts up, past mijin, to suhyeok, who's staring down at his feet with a look of shame etched on his face. you've seen that expression before, just last night, when the two of you were arguing. the memory replays in your mind like a broken record, refusing to be silenced.

mijin's gentle tug on your arm breaks the spell, and you allow her to help you up. as you stand, you try to shake off the haze, to regain some semblance of clarity. but your mind remains foggy, refusing to cooperate.

mr. nam's concerned voice cuts through the din, "are you kids alright?" he scans the group, his eyes lingering on each of you before moving on. when his gaze falls on you, it pauses, and you sense a flicker of surprise. you follow his gaze to your shirt, and your eyebrow twitches in confusion. a portion of the fabric is torn, leaving a gaping hole. not again. you try to recall when it happened, but your brain refuses to cooperate. you grasp the torn fabric, willing yourself to remember, but the memories remain elusive.

mr. nam's voice cuts through the silence, "okay, are you all able to run?" the group exchanges hesitant glances before nodding in unison, still refusing to speak. mr. nam sighs, a mix of relief and concern etched on his face. "good."

he takes a deep breath before issuing instructions, "if you go straight through the tennis courts and pass the construction site, you'll hit the mountain." he points behind you, and you turn to follow his gesture, taking in the makeshift plan he's devised.

but before you can even process the information, your hand is grasped, and you're suddenly pulled into a sprint. you stumble forward, regaining your balance as you take in the chaos around you. everyone is scrambling, running up the hill near the gym, desperate to escape the horrors behind them.

you glance back, and your heart sinks. more of the infected are closing in, their twisted faces contorted in a snarl. you whip your head back around, focusing on the path ahead. your legs pump furiously as you push yourself to keep up. it's then that you notice suhyeok's hand still grasping yours, his grip tight as he pulls you along.

mr. nam's voice echoes from behind, "the tennis courts! run!" the sound of heavy footsteps and ragged breathing fills the air as your group sprints towards the gate. daesu's shout of "c'mon!" urges you on as wujin finally reaches the door and flings it open. everyone pours inside, a chaotic tide of panicked bodies.

you release suhyeok's hand as you enter, taking a moment to ensure everyone makes it in safely. hari's struggling to fend off an infected with her bow, but she's suddenly tackled by another. mr. nam leaps into action, saving her from the brink of disaster. "hurry!" you shout, relief washing over you as hari stumbles through the gate, unscathed.

mr. nam slams the gate shut behind her, and the group takes off, racing towards the far end of the tennis court. but as you run, you realize with a sinking feeling that the zombies can still see you, their moans and screams growing louder as they give chase. everyone skids to a stop, frantically scanning their surroundings for an escape. "oh fuck.." you gulp, a cold dread creeping up your spine.

wujin's voice trembles as he asks daesu, "what do we do?" the group's panic is palpable, and you can't help but wonder if you've simply traded one trap for another. in an instant, the gates that had been locked just moments before burst open, succumbing to the crushing pressure of the zombie horde. the bloody, snarling mass surges forward, their eyes fixed on you with an unrelenting hunger. you react instinctively, grabbing hroryeong's arm and pulling her close as you take off in a sprint.

cheongsan leaps into action, wielding his bat with deadly precision as he smashes aside the zombies that aren't tangled in the tennis net. the sound of crunching bone and snapping metal fills the air, a grim testament to his determination.

meanwhile, mr. nam rummages through his bag, producing a red stick that he flicks open with a practiced motion. a blazing red flare erupts from the stick, its intense light and ear-piercing whistle drawing the zombies' attention like moths to a flame. the creatures inside and outside the court converge on the flare, their mindsless bodies driven solely by their insatiable hunger.

seizing the distraction, you spin hroryeong around, shouting to the others, "c'mon, guys!" the group gives chase, hot on your heels as you make a beeline for the opposite door.

just as you're about to grab the handle, a tan, larger hand clamps down on yours, holding you back. suhyeok's eyes scan the surrounding area, his gaze darting back and forth before nodding in satisfaction. with a gentle tug, he opens the gate, allowing you and hroryeong to slip through, the others close behind.

you spin around, ensuring everyone's safe exit, but your gaze falls upon a scene that makes your heart sink. mr. nam has closed the gate behind onjo and cheongsan, trapping them outside. onjo's face contorts in desperation as she rips away from cheongsan's grasp and slams into the gate, frantically trying to reopen it.

her words trail off as she notices the bite mark on her father's hand. tears well up in her eyes, and her face crumples in anguish. you watch, frozen in horror, as the reality of the situation sets in.

you tear your gaze away, looking toward the trees that lie ahead. you take a few hesitant steps forward, trying to get a better view of the path ahead. the trees seem to loom before you, their branches creaking ominously in the wind. you pause, unsure of what to do next, as the sounds of onjo's despairing cries echo through the air.

you take a few more cautious steps forward, scanning the trees for any signs of zombies. your eyes dart back and forth, searching for any movement or telltale signs of danger. but for now, the coast seems clear. the trees are so dense that you can't even see any buildings in the distance, which means it'll take some time to reach the construction site mr. nam mentioned.

just as you're starting to feel a sense of relief, you catch a glimpse of someone peeking around a tree. your heart skips a beat as the person quickly ducks back out of sight. a wave of unease washes over you. who - or what - was that? could it be a zombie that hasn't noticed you yet? or is it someone else, someone who might be a threat? you instinctively crouch down, trying to make yourself as small and quiet as possible.

you take slow, deliberate steps towards the nearest tree, trying to be just as sneaky as the mysterious person. your senses are on high alert, ready for whatever might be lurking just out of sight.

you focus intently on the person, your eyes squinting as you try to make out any distinguishing features. the person darts to another tree, using it as cover. you hold your breath, waiting for them to make another move.

and then, in a flash, the person takes off again, giving you a better look. it's a man, dressed in a plaid shirt that's even more tattered than yours. his baggy jeans are torn and frayed, and he's clutching something in his hand, though you can't quite make out what it is.

just as you're taking in this information, you hear the sound of footsteps rushing towards you, accompanied by heavy breathing. you swiftly move behind your tree, out of sight, and signal for your friends to stop. you press a finger to your lips, warning them to be quiet.

daesu, who's in the lead, looks at you with confusion etched on his face. you slowly point in the direction of the mysterious man, and your friends quickly hide behind nearby trees, thinking that zombies are approaching. namra slips behind the same tree as you, her voice barely above a whisper. "it's a human." she breathes, confirming your suspicions. you glance at her, nodding in agreement.

with a slow, deliberate movement, you draw out your sword, holding it with both hands as you press your back against the tree. you're poised, ready to swing into action at a moment's notice.

wujin mouths to you from his hiding spot behind a large tree, where hroryeong is also concealed, "you don't even know how to use that!" his eyes sparkling with frustration. you roll your eyes good-naturedly and mouth back, "it's gotta be the same as a baseball bat." wujin's expression turns incredulous, and he rolls his eyes in response. just then, the sound of snapping branches and crunching leaves fills the air as the mysterious person approaches. you tense, ready to react. with a swift motion, you step out from behind the tree, sword at the ready. the blade comes to rest against the person's adam's apple, and they freeze, eyes wide with fear.

the person hastily drops their weapon and raises their hands in surrender. "wait!" they exclaim, taking in the sight of multiple young adults emerging from the trees. "i mean no harm to any of you!" they declare, attempting to sound brave despite the quiver in their voice.

his eyes meet yours, and you take in his features. he's gotta be older than you, with that strong, toned build and a few scratch marks on his face. despite his rugged appearance, there's something about him that seems... put together. hroryeong asks quietly, "w-whats your name?" breaking the silence. she suddenly feels like speaking for some reason.

wujin gently pushes down on your hands, signaling for you to lower the sword. you realize you're still holding it up and begin to sheathe it. the boy takes advantage of the distraction to slowly retrieve his axe, his movements cautious. “kyungho, im a senior at bomoon high.” as he stands up, you can't help but notice his stature. he's tall, with broad shoulders and a rugged build that makes him look like an actual lumberjack. cheongsan steps forward and asks, "is bomoon high infected too?" but you're too busy taking in kyungho's appearance to focus on the conversation.

daesu whispers to suhyeok, "how is he still so handsome even though he's all dirty like us?" but his voice carries, and the whole group hears him. kyungho's face flushes, and he looks down, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. he smiles awkwardly, his eyes meeting yours, and you feel a flutter in your chest.

kyungho's eyes lock onto yours, and he says, "hey, i know you." you're taken aback, unsure of what to say. "me?" you ask, incredulous. the group's attention shifts to you, their faces filled with curiosity. mijin steps forward, her arm crossed, her expression skeptical. "you know him, y/n-ah?" she asks, her tone implying she doesn't quite trust kyungho. you shake your head, "n-no, i don't think..." but kyungho interrupts, taking a step forward. "you're that kid in the bike store!" he exclaims, a smile spreading across his face.

daesu whispers to suhyeok, "he called him a kid when they're only a year apart.." his voice is laced with amusement, as if he's watching a show. suhyeok's eyebrows furrow, his expression unreadable as he takes in the interaction between you and kyungho.

the memories of kyungho come flooding back, and you're surprised you didn't recognize him at first. he looked so beat up, but now that you remember, you recall the cute boy you had followed into the bike store. your face grows hot as you realize everyone is still staring at you, awaiting your response.

"right... i remember now," you stammer, trying to play it cool. "it's good to see you." you manage a small smile, but you can't help the way your heart skips a beat as kyungho's eyes lock onto yours. you feel yourself melting under his gaze, and you look away, trying to compose yourself. but you can't shake off the feeling that kyungho's eyes are still on you, and you sneak a glance back at him. his expression is soft, and he's smiling at you, making your heart flutter even more.

“why is y/n so shy..?” daesu's whisper is cut off as suhyeok steps forward, his tall, athletic build positioning him slightly in front of you, as if shielding you from kyungho. the two of them are almost evenly matched in height and build, although kyungho appears slightly more muscular.

suhyeok's gaze is skeptical as he asks, "so you're saying you made it all the way from bomoon high, by yourself?" kyungho's eyes flicker to suhyeok, and he nods calmly. "yeah, today was the day some of the seniors went into the city for a project, and suddenly a bunch of those zombies got into the cafe we were at. luckily, i escaped through the back door," kyungho explains, pointing back in the direction he came from. "so i traveled all this way to find someone, and i've been on the run since."

wujin and daesu nod in unison, seeming to accept kyungho's story. you, however, are intrigued by his survival skills. "how could you survive by yourself for this long?" you ask, your curiosity getting the better of you. kyungho holds up a finger, as if to say "wait," before slipping off the long tote bag he'd been carrying on his back. he rummages through it, revealing a stash of food and snacks that makes everyone's eyes widen in surprise.

"i managed to break into a convenience store," he explains, a hint of pride in his voice. "so that's where i've been staying. i've been looking for people who survived, but you guys are the first people i've seen in days." the group's reaction is immediate. everyone's eyes light up at the sight of food, and they exchange excited glances. kyungho's face breaks out into a warm smile as he continues, his words tumbling out in a rush of excitement. "we can all head back! i'll show you guys. you can eat and sleep for the night." his enthusiasm is infectious, and the group's mood begins to lift at the prospect of food and shelter.

kyungho tosses a loaf of bread to daesu, who catches it and immediately tears into it, savoring the taste. hroryeong speaks up, "that'd be great," but cheongsan cuts her off, his expression apologetic.

"we can't," he says, his words hitting you like a ton of bricks. "i'm sorry, but we're trying to get out of the city." your heart sinks, realizing that you won't be able to rest and eat in a safe place after all. kyungho's face falls, but he quickly recovers, his expression curious. "oh, well, me too!" he exclaims, zipping up his bag. "where are you guys headed?" suhyeok takes over, explaining, "there's a construction site down that way. we need to pass it to get to the mountain." kyungho's eyes light up with interest, and he nods, as if considering something.

kyungho glances back in the direction he came from, a thoughtful expression on his face. "i mean, i can go with you guys if you'd allow me," he says, turning back to the group. "but the store isn't that far from here. we could make it and go first thing tomorrow. come on, you guys look like death." he tries to persuade the group, his eyes locked on cheongsan.

you turn to cheongsan, your eyes pleading. "we won't survive long out there if we don't eat and rest properly. one night," you beg, your voice barely above a whisper. the rest of the group's bodies seem to be echoing your plea, their tired and starving eyes begging for relief.the group falls silent for almost a minute, the only sound the heavy breathing of exhausted bodies. cheongsan looks at suhyeok, who's shaking his head in disagreement, but then his gaze sweeps the rest of the group, taking in their desperate expressions. finally, he nods. "lead the way," he says to kyungho, who grins triumphantly.

"awesome, come on," kyungho says, gesturing for the group to follow him. "if we move quickly and quietly, we'll get there in no time." you thank cheongsan before falling in behind kyungho, who takes the lead. suhyeok crosses his arms, looking disbelieving, but the rest of the group follows kyungho, their footsteps quiet and hopeful.

[somnus-lucis-caelum]

The Forest Banquet was something he would have to ask their kitchen staff about. It really sounded like it was a lot of effort… the farmlands had lavish feasts apparently. But it also reminded him a little of one of their own dishes.

“I think you would like the zucchini flowers we fill with rice and herbs here… I will see that you get a chance to have a taste of them this evening. Not quite what you described, of course, but it has a similar ring to it.”

And it was a special treat. Somnus doubted he could simply order that Forest Banquet to be made… but this – this could work very well.

Her little smile when she won one of his chess pieces was sweet. It had an innocent streak to it – going along with her looks and in complete contrast apparently to her behaviour otherwise… shielding pet dragons, scaling walls. Aerith was a lot more than met the eye. Somnus could barely believe that a mere day ago he had assumed she was just as grating of a person as his brother. Another cliche healer. But so far… her healing had not even played a role in anything she had done.

“My way, yes… not that you would learn about it soon.”, he mused, before making another move and picking one of her towers from the table, holding it up a little too smug. And that only was outdone by the tone of his voice, very pleased with himself.

“Check.”

Somnus made a move that blossomed a smile on her face. It tickled her that he played right into her risk-taking — she looked more pleased than a cat who got the canary when she claimed that piece. She was honestly too puffed up happy to consider the reason behind his play.

Aerith had stepped into his territory. She would probably soon realise where she had landed herself, all while talking his ear off.

"Cute that you think you're winning." she shot back, far too proud as she motioned to him for his turn.

"Ouhf. My arms hurt just thinking about it." she then half-heartedly complained. She would rather climb a mossy wall slick from morning fog than be stuck at the mortar and pestle grinding away. "My favourite is called the forest banquet, and I think we call it that because it's only something you would serve at a banquet. It can be made with boar but venison is best." If she wasn't careful she'd end up explaining the whole process and bore him to tears. "The main parts are you have to grind up everything in the marinade until it's smooth. It doesn't work otherwise, and you have to make so much of it to cover the dish too, it's such a pain. Then the meat has to marinate for days. Someone has to keep turning it so all of it remains well coated. It's so good though."

She sat back a little in her chair and shifted from watching his hands as he contemplated his next move, to actually looking up to his face. Did he not realise how verbal his hands were? It was... kind of endearing.

As he got more serious her own expression gentled. If he tried to tell her this in the morning, she probably wouldn't have been as open to listen. Because then, it would have felt... like politics... but here and now, it felt real. It felt human. They were connecting and she believed in his words, even exhaled a small amused breath through her nose when he brought up the dragon.

"Your way?" she naturally asked, giving a curious tilt of her head. There were still more mysteries about him. She knew little of his abilities, even if part of his magic had travelled up her arm, she didn't know what he was capable of.

Aerith's posture straightened a little, and she half-turned to briefly look over to Nidhogg who still had a half-lidded eye trained on them. She turned back with an almost guilty smile. "For what it's worth, I didn't mean to surprise you with the dragon either. I'm a bit protective of him, I don't like to introduce him to just anyone, not unless I have to. I was going to warn you about him but it didn't feel like the right time." Then... Nidhogg just dropped in.

[libellule-ao3]

Distorted Mirrors

OS written and shared for @tamayula-hl 😊

OS | Rating: T | Sebastian x MC (Sakurako) | approx. 1900 words.

A/N: Upon reading her HC [Link] about the relationship between Sebastian and Sakurako, I was immediately struck by the circumstances of Sebastian’s first marriage proposal. This passage encompassed everything I love to explore: angst, the complexity of toxic relationships, tortured characters, and Sebastian’s duality. The section written from his POV was the first piece I drafted about this pairing, but I needed more time to better understand Sakurako before daring to explore her perspective, which is nevertheless essential to this fanfiction. This OS is, above all, a tribute to the depth @tamayula-hl brings to her characters & their dynamics.

As always, I hope it resonates with you, despite any potential missteps or errors on my part (ESL writer). 🤞

Summary:

As Sebastian desperately tries to keep Sakurako by his side, even resorting to manipulating her feelings and forcing her into an impossible choice, she questions their future, torn between her love for him and the realisation of their relationship’s toxicity.

Sebastian

Something was wrong.

He could feel it in the way Sakurako’s gaze fled his, in the distance that grew between them or in the silences that stretched like shadows at dusk, filled with unspoken words.

Their love seemed to fade little by little, to become a kind of mirage, and this thought took his breath away, leaving him suspended on the edge of emptiness. Since the catacombs, since Solomon’s death and losing Anne, who refused to forgive him, everything that had once been solid in his life was now in ruins.

Even Ominis had grown somewhat distant, tired of his excesses.

Sakurako, for her part, had picked up the pieces of what was left of him, reassembling them into something fragile but real. She had become the glue that held the shattered fragments of his being together, and he couldn’t lose her. Not after everything they’d been through.

The panic that surged inside him at this threat was cold and implacable, a terror that only grew with each moment he saw her slipping further away. He knew their bond was imperfect, born of helplessness and despair, nourished by loneliness and grief. And yet it was impossible to let go. She was his reason for living, the only thread holding him back from the precipice.

Ominis had said it was an addiction, a desperate need, but in his eyes, it was love. His only love. Should this embrace prove more toxic than a constrictor snake’s, then so be it!And so an idea came to him.

A desperate plan, dictated by his visceral fear: seal their fate in front of everyone in the Great Hall. A public scene that would leave no room for escape, trapping Sakurako under the weight of hundreds of stares. She hated being the centre of attention and would never have the strength to say "no" in such a situation. That was precisely why he had chosen this moment, this place. It was cruel, perhaps, but he couldn’t lose her — not after everything they had endured.

When the day came, Sebastian felt the little suede case in his pocket, a weight reminding him at every moment of the importance of what he was about to do. The Great Hall was noisy, full of life, laughter and cross-talk, but to him it all seemed strangely distant, as if he were observing the scene through a pane of glass. His eyes finally found Sakurako entering the Great Hall with Poppy Sweeting, who was no doubt telling her some new anecdote about magical creatures. She looked so far away, out of reach, and this distance rekindled his fear like a bright flame.

He made his way towards her, ignoring the intrigued looks, the silent disapproval of Ominis and the whispers as he passed. When he stopped in front of her, he dropped to his knees and all the hubbub in the room died down; the conversations suspended in palpable anticipation. Poppy slipped discreetly away, leaving Sakurako facing him, exposed to all eyes. He saw her swallow, her gaze shifting from him to the jewellery box he was taking out, then to the dozens of curious faces around them.

“Sakurako,” he said, his voice sounding louder than he’d intended.He gave her the most charming smile in his repertoire as he opened the box to reveal a beautiful engagement ring.

“I know I’m not perfect, that I’ve made mistakes, but I love you more than anything, and I can’t imagine my life without you. So let me ask you–”

His hands trembled with emotion. His eyes sought hers, begging for an answer, but all he saw was surprise, hesitation, a thinly veiled fear...

She wanted to flee... It was as plain as the nose on her face.

Sebastian chose to ignore this. He couldn’t back down now.

“–Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

The question wasn’t really a question. It was a plea. A disguised injunction. A trap set with which she could only escape by daring to face the silent judgement of all those witnesses.

She smiled, but it was a vulnerable smile, more fragile than a fairy wing, ready to break at any moment. Yet he clung to it like a castaway to a plank.A soft, barely audible “Yes” came from her, requiring him to strain his ear to catch it.

Relief flooded through him, accompanied by a thunder of applause, cheers and festive whistles, eliminating everything in its path, chasing away all shadows and doubts to make way for an overwhelming sense of victory. He slipped the ring onto her finger and rose to kiss her, ignoring the trembling of her lips, the restraint of her tongue and the rigidity of her body against his.

It didn’t matter.

Sakurako was his, and she would never leave.

A little voice inside him, which sounded strangely like Ominis’s, reminded him a heart captured through cunning is not truly won. But Sebastian refused to listen.

As long as Sakurako remained by his side, he would do anything to convince himself that everything would be all right.

Sakurako

Sakurako knew something was wrong.

It wasn’t something she could name straight away, but it persisted, heavy and insistent, in the burning heat of Sebastian’s gaze.

She could see it in the way his eyes locked onto her, as if he had been memorising every detail, like a man etching in his mind a shoreline doomed to disappear beneath the waves.

She could hear it in the silence after his laugh had died down.

She perceived it from his smiles that flickered too quickly, an unease settling in their wake.Sebastian had always been intense. That intensity had been part of what had drawn her to him in the first place – the fierce, burning love that had threatened to consume him completely. The relentless need to protect those he loved, even if it meant ignoring their boundaries – or trampling everything in his path.

But lately, that flame had been extinguished, its light replaced by a dark, oppressive pressure. It was something she couldn’t explain, but she could feel it, suffocating in the silence.

Sakurako loved him. She didn’t doubt it, just as she didn’t doubt the ache that gripped her chest – a weight that felt as much as freedom as captivity.

She loved him with a strength that left no room for anything else. And yet, sometimes, a cruel thought made its way into her heart:

Did Sebastian really love her, or just his idea of her?

Was she just a figure of attachment shaped by the absences of Anne, Solomon, and all that he had lost?

Their love was anything but light.

The witch sometimes compared it to a vine that wrapped itself around the two of them, holding them up even though it threatened to strangle them. Together, they held on, but at what price?

Sakurako lived with the quiet certainty that one day Sebastian would see the truth. He would look at her and realise that his love was born out of nothing but grief. A desperate attempt to fill the void.

And when that day would come, she feared his gaze might burn her just as intensely, but this time with resentment. Then in her worst nightmares, his voice echoed with dreaded words:

“It’s all your fault.”

Words she feared all the more because they were true. If she hadn’t helped Sebastian, none of this would have happened.

As she began to imagine her life after Hogwarts, a decision took shape, a choice so devastating it tore at her heart: she had to leave him.

It was not a resolution taken lightly. On the contrary, it was a carefully considered necessity.

Love should never feel like a prison. Nor be tainted by insecurity.

So Sakurako wrote him a letter. It was less complicated this way. Face to face, she would waver, as she always did when he was close to her. In this message, she expressed her love for him, reminded him of their wounds, and their need for time to heal, to rebuild... one without the other.

She waited until the following Saturday to give it to him, a day devoid of classes when it would be easier to avoid any confrontation while waiting for him to digest the news. But Sebastian, it seemed, had his own plans.

A few days later, as she entered the Great Hall with Poppy for dinner, the atmosphere changed. The steady hum of conversation faded, replaced by murmurs and a tangible sense of anticipation. That’s when she saw him approaching in long strides. Each of his steps struck the stone, the sharp cluck of his shoes asserting his unyielding presence in the crowded room. His face showed determination, and his aura dominated the space. Her heart compressed in her chest as she guessed what he was about to do before he even reached her.

“Sebastian, no! Not here... Please… Not like this…” she screamed in her mind.

But the words wouldn’t come out. They were stuck in her throat, and she felt trapped by a hundred stares. Slowly, he knelt down in front of her and took a small box out of his pocket.

“Sakurako,” he began, “I know I’m not perfect, that I’ve made mistakes, but I love you more than anything else in the world, and I can’t imagine my life without you. So, let me ask you–”

The Earth turned upside down. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her hands were clammy and trembling. Her instincts were screaming at her to say no, to stop before it was too late. But she was frozen, trapped by the unbearable weight of all those stares.All those expectant faces, those smiles filled with envy, preventing her from catching her breath.

To refuse here and now was to condemn Sebastian to public humiliation. He knew that.

An affront she didn’t have the strength to inflict on him. He knew that, too.

Her panicked gaze swept around the Great Hall, like a condemned prisoner looking for a miracle. But wherever her eyes landed, she was met only with envious faces or faces eager to hear her acceptance, adorned with a naïve smile that knew nothing of the storm inside her. Every whisper, every glance seemed to tighten the invisible chains that imprisoned her. Silent witnesses to her surrender, unaware that every second they were forging the bars of a cage she had never chosen.

He looked at her, his features taut with a fragile balance of hope and despair. The cold possessiveness in his brown eyes was a shadow she couldn’t ignore.

Saying “no” would break him. Saying “yes” meant surrendering to a gilded cage.

Her lips almost parted of their own accord, betraying a “yes” she desperately wanted to stifle. Three little letters that left a taste of ash in her mouth. Glowing, he stood up, slipping the ring onto her finger with a trembling, practically feverish hand.When he kissed her, the warmth of his lips contrasted cruelly with the coldness of the stone in her stomach. She remained motionless, unable to respond to his passion, while in the back of her mind, church bells announced, not their union, but his triumph.

Her conscience whispered that she had just made a terrible mistake. And her heart clung to the hope that perhaps, in time, they could learn to love each other as they deserved.

But Sakurako knew it wouldn’t be easy. With Sebastian, nothing ever was.

Masterlist

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Big Plans - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

cw: sex, angst

Let's proceed to the next stage.

The Day of Ash. Its conclusion's already foregone, and he has little patience for repetition. But this part is key.

For context's sake, it bears revisiting.

The scene's already been painted. If a courtroom were a stage, the gallery would be breathless for the denouement. Which will arrive, and in due course. As the High Priestess says: Patience is the companion of wisdom.

For now, picture this:

The banquet at the Last Drop, and Fissurefolk with crumbs clinging to their smiles. The songs, the stories, the slow-reeling hours.  The bundt cake had been served up in generous helpings, each portion with a dollop of sugar. Sweetness: too rich to taste of scarcity.

Too real to taste the bitter arsenic of disaster.

In the backroom, Sevika treated Silco to a different song. They'd swapped a stogie of potent brightleaf, each drag burning a sultry line from throat to belly. Silco had draped a stolen sheepskin pelt on the floorboards, and spread Sevika down upon it.  Her nails were in his back, and her tongue filled his mouth, and her sighs filled the air.

"Fuck me," she said. "Fuck me now."

He went into her, exquisitely slick depths parting for him, inch by inch. His vision blotted out to static, his ears ringing bells. Outside, the thunderstorm of boots and bodies gathered its charge.

That is how he recalls that final night.

Everything hung in perfect equilibrium. One side tilting toward delirium; the other, disaster.

They kissed and gasped and kissed again. His teeth closed around her bottom lip, piercing its fullness. He swallowed her sounds as they rocked together, slow and steady. Every second of pleasure counted. Every gasped cry and shivered moan were an offering. 

To gods unnamed; or to Zaun.

When you fuck and live, you fuck for them both.

His climax was a gut-shot—bang, bang, bang, nailed to completion. He collapsed against her, sobbing behind gritted teeth. Sevika's own climax was unending. Every small movement set off an aftershock that fluttered from her womb all the way to her eyelashes. By the end, they were gummed wetly together with tears.

From rawness of hurt and hope and whatever lay beneath.

After, they lay in a languid, sweat-sticky tangle. Their heavy breaths sawed through the dusty air. The stillness felt holy. As if they'd found some secret within themselves, and were listening to it resonate. Sevika nuzzled into the damp hairs curling over at his temple. Silco dropped a wet kiss to the hollow of her throat, followed by a hard, deliberate rasp of stubbled cheekbone between her breasts. The burn glowed in his wake.

Even then, he'd liked to leave marks. Reminders of where she belonged. With him, and the future they'd seize. No takebacks; no middle ground. 

Glory or dust.

Sevika jittered out a sigh. "Sil?"

"Mmm?"

"When all this is over..." Her fingertips traced his hairline. "What d'you want to do?" 

"What?" he murmured, barely cogent. "Why think of that now?" 

"Just... something I'm tellin' myself. For motivation's sake."

"We're motivated."

"We are." She kissed him again: soft, sweet, uncertain. "Still. I wanna hear. You fought for this shit your entire life. Thought you might have plans for after."

"Visualizing, are we?"

"Well, yeah. Like, I see myself walking on the Bridge, without getting frisked. Without those degrading searchlights and the names they call us. You know what I mean, right?" 

"I do." Silco's jaw hardened. "Personally, I'd tear the Bridge down. Reroute everything so we aren't dependent on one mode of transit across the Pilt.  Our harbor still opens out to sea. Our trade could be redirected. We could do business with foreign merchants. I've no doubt there's a market for our wares across Runeterra. Places less sanctimonious and more eager to profit."

"What wares?"

"The gold and gems. But there's more to our domestic industry than the treasures below. You've seen the construction boom in Topside's residential sectors. All from our marble, our slate, our granite. Once Zaun's ours, we'd tap into that sector. No need for a bridge. Or the thieves squatting on the other end."

"See? You do have big plans!"

"Schematics. That's all."

"Helluva lot more than most of us got." Cupping his head in both hands, she sought his eyes. "What else?"

He rested his interlaced palms on her sternum, and his chin atop them.  "Reforms. Top to bottom. Law, infrastructure, security. Chaos without an axis devolves a society to madmen. But we won't survive as a monoculture, either. A diversified economy's the best path forward. We could open our borders to trade with merchants from across Valoran. Build the docks into proper berths, so we're dealing with international vessels on our terms, without them trying to get a foothold in our territory." His eyes slitted, drowsy yet speculative. "What we need is a haven for entrepreneurs and free thinkers alike."

"People who'll treat us as equals instead of animals?"

He grinned: a tiny bite of incisors into her skin. "Exactly. A whole world of profit's out there. We'll tap into it. Show the world that we're more than just gutter-trash."

"And here, I'd be satisfied with a plumbing system that doesn't freeze my tits off come winter."

"Copper piping—" he was warming to the subject— "is where the solution lies. We'll invest in citywide upgrades. A sewage network that leads to treatment plants outside of town. Lessens the runoff so the river fish are fit to eat year-round. We'd also start a sanitation corps. Their sole objective would be to rid the streets of refuse."

"Big plans. Real big." Her touch didn't falter, but he felt a shift in her voice. A sidestep more than a withdrawal. "What about... y'know. The kids?"

 A chill crept through Silco. Gently, he disentangled, easing himself upright. His bare arms roped around his knees. He let out a slow breath, measuring how much to reveal.

Then—

"More reforms. Loads of 'em. No more debts inherited from parent to child. Anyone in arrears would be offered financial advice, and legal recourse. Then there's the quality of education. Most sumpsnipes can barely scrawl their names. How's a nation meant to advance if its children can't count coin? Universal schooling is the least Zaun can provide. Medical centers that offer basic services. Soup kitchens with free meals. All of it must happen, if our folk are to succeed."

"Mighty generous. What's the catch?"

"No catch. Only stipulations." He met her eyes, aglow in the gloom. "These children have spent a lifetime dodging Topside boots. They should be given safe spaces, where they can explore their talents. Without the constant threat of those spaces being torn down, the way our orphanages were."

"Some of those little boot-dodgers could do with a kick, though."

"Maybe. But there's a difference between coddling and support."  His palm rolled open. An invisible blade balanced on either side: compromise and conviction. "The right to learn in safety is as necessary as the freedom to grow from mistakes. The kids would get their licks. But they'd also get a choice." His voice softened. "The rest would follow."

Sevika softened in turn. "Knew it."

"Knew what?"

"You're a big sap when it comes to kids."

"Quit taking the piss."

She shook her head. "Always knew you cared. Deep down. Otherwise, why go through with this at all?" Her palm squeezed his forearm; a caress bordering on worship. "It's gonna change, Sil. You'll change it. The kids'll have better than we ever did."

Her eyes met his. The compassion seared. Because of course she could see straight through him, to the gnashing fears hidden below. Same way he could see through her, to the long-dead hopes buried in her bones.

Like fossils: fragile but irrefutable.

They'd been told since birth they were inferior, and inferior beings must perish. Yet they'd survived. Doggedly, brutally, defiantly. And having done so, deserved a shot at more.

Tonight, they'd seize it. They'd turn the tables forever.

No fairness; only equity.

"After..." Sevika swallowed. "Y'think we'll have something more stable?"

"Stable?"

"Y'know. More than night-rallies, and smuggling and stabbing bootlickers in back alleys."

"Why? Got the itch to settle down?"

A flush stole across her cheeks. Her eyes cut away. "Nah. Just wondering."

"Wondering what?"

"Don't make me spell it out."

A few beats. Then realization sank home. The ice thawed; a smile crept across Silco's lips.

"Are you implying...?"

"What?" Sevika challenged, knowing exactly what was implied. The blush deepened, a charming mottle of deep rose. In a fistfight, she was seldom caught off-kilter. But intimacy always did it for her; abraded the roughness down to the girl she'd been: bruises on her knees and big dreams tucked close to her heart.

Like his stolen bergamots stuffed in her pockets.

"Say it, love," he goaded gently.

"Naw."

"Say it."

"Fuck off!"

"Say it, or I'll guess." He slid back down into the lovely warm circle of her arms. His head settled into the lovelier, warmer declivity between her breasts. He nuzzled, playfully. "Are you, by chance, expressing an interest in—don't be shy—sharing your bolthole?"

"Never... never said that." But she was shivering; a different thrill entirely. "Just wondering if I should start clearing out some drawers."

"Making room, hmm?"

"Place could do with a fixer-upper."

"My skillset does extend to home repairs."

She scoffed. "Being handy with a hammer's not a skillset." But her arms found their home around him, as he found his in the shelter of her. "We could split chores."

"Equitable distribution of labor?"

"Someone cooks, someone scrubs the dishes. Someone sets the table, someone brews the tea..."

"Better be me. Not sure I'd survive another mug of leaves-and-grit."

Her ribcage jerked; a peal of laughter that threatened to break into tears. Silco's own chest felt vaguely smothered. By emotion; by hope.

They'd seen enough of sorrow for a lifetime. Why not dream a little?

 "Let's see," he went on, kissing his way from one breast to the next. "The labor's divvied. But what about the living space? It'd need renovations. New plaster for the ceiling, so the cockroaches don't rain down from the cracks. New floorboards, too. Solid wood so the place stays dry. Nothing like this—" He rapped his knuckle against the nearest plank, eliciting a resounding echo of termite damage, "—so during our more, ah, exuberant endeavors, we don't drop down two stories and land right in old Josiah's stewpot."

This time, her laughter bubbled up without reserve. "Soundproof the walls, too. So the neighbors don't cuss us out every night."

"And morning."

"And evening."

"And afternoon."

"And—" Her laughter sank, husky; the kissing had become an openmouthed sampling, "—whenever we feel like it."

"There's the spirit."  He lapped the roseate bloom of one aureole, savoring her whimper. "What else? Oh. A balcony facing south, with geranium pots. Or a row of night-blooming jasmine. You could dry the petals, press them, crush them for sachets. Or better yet, grow your hair long and wind the flowers through it."

"Fucking sap. My hair's not fit for braids. Gets greasy five seconds after washing." The laughter ebbed. Her mood receded into something both sweeter and more pained. "Nothing like Nandi's."

"Nothing like Nandi," he agreed.

He felt it immediately: the full-bodied flinch, struggling and failing to disguise itself. But he understood. It wasn't envy; only memory. Loss was loss. There was no cure but time.

The question was how much to steal.

Taking her chin, he kissed her again. Kissed the burn to bed; the flame to smoke. He made love to her lips until they parted. Until that sweet pain ebbed, into the background, where it belonged. Her thighs shifted, enfolding his hips; her breath stirred on hungry hums. Each kiss tasting like a gift she couldn't give herself.

A gift he couldn't deny her.

She'd never be Nandi. Nor would she ever stop feeling her sister's absence. But he wasn't here, on the last night before the final charge, for a specter.  

He wanted what they had now, real and alive between them.

A second chance.

"Listen, love," he breathed, thumbing the wetness beneath her eyes. "No one will ever replace your sister. No one. But you are your own. And you're mine. And I swear to you—if tonight doesn't fuck us into the ground—we'll do everything we've planned. We'll fix up that bolthole. Fix up this whole damned city. And then we'll live our fucking lives."

"Sap," she said again.

"Not if it's true."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He held her gaze. "Do you want it?"

"Want what?"

"All of it. The balcony with geraniums. The jasmine in your hair. The new roof, and new walls. The new life." His stare deepened. "With me."

She bit her lip; the flush faded into resolve. "Yeah."

"So let's have it."

"With what coin, Sil?"

"I've got a cache of loose rubies in my mattress. You're welcome to pocket a few, as a down-payment. Hell, if it means selling all my loot in the lockbox, we'll do it. If we've got to wait fifteen years before we can afford even one seed of jasmine, we'll still do it." A sudden honesty creased the conversation, cutting through their banter. "Anything. Everything. As long as you're game."

For a moment, she looked at him, as if seeing beyond his words. Her pragmatism never failed, even when her temper veered off course. But it was as if his confession had opened a different door, and longing beckoned.

There were many avenues they'd never gone down. Places they'd both learned were dangerous: Tomorrow and Always; Safe and Sound; Nothing's lost and Anything's Possible.

Paths that weren't lies but far-off lights in the distance. Too far to cross on foot.

But now...

"Would everything," she whispered, "include the usual?"

"The usual?"

"I mean… d’you see yourself wanting a family?"

Silco fell still.

"An anklebiter, or two? The chance to do better for someone than anyone's ever done for us?"

The stillness deepened. Their stares locked. The silence looped into an eternal second. In that space, Bloody Sunday’s screams echoed and re-echoed.

"I...I don't know," Silco said at last. "Maybe not now. But... someday."

"Someday?"

"When Zaun is real. When this city stands on its own. When the future's set in stone, not a whisper in the wind." He smoothed the furrow between her brows, trying for levity. "Why? Don't tell me you've slipped your dose?"

"'Course not!" she snapped. "I take that crap everytime we go to bed!"

"But you've thought about the alternatives."

She chewed the corner of her lip, rolling the answer around. The dream was no longer dead in her eyes. It had transformed. "I think..."

"What?"

"Someday."

"Someday?"

"Zaun's gotta be real, first." She cupped his left cheekbone. The future pulled them down, into each other's grip. The scent of jasmine blooming from somewhere unseen. "And Zaun needs you, Sil. So after everything goes down... after things settle..."

"...there's more to look forward to." His face split on a smile. Contentment finding a home in their shadows. "Forward being the operative word."

"Damn straight."

He shut his eyes, drinking in the heat at the crook of her neck. The rest of him sank against her body. Down between her thighs, to that familiar dip that was wet and waiting for him. To a place that kept him warm, but one he couldn't lay claim to as a home. Not yet.

But someday. 

Yes.

And just like that, the revolution burned bright. On a peltstrewn-strewn pallet on the backroom floor, they began making their plans all over again.

"Marble stairs," he breathed, as he slid inside her. "Lapis-laid floors."

"Fucking bougie," she gasped, palms starfishing his hips. "I'd never set foot on 'em."

"I'd haul your arse inside by the ankles. Every day. With fresh jasmine twined in your hair..."

"Greasy fucking hair..."

"Beautiful hair." His head hung down, forehead touching hers. Her lashes fanned velvet over his cheek; her breaths grew short against his throat. "Shining and strong, and I swear—"

"Swear...?"

He rolled his hips, dragging himself over her sweet-spot, just the way she liked. Her belly quaked; her head tossed back on a cry.

"I swear it'll only be the start."

"Yeah?"

"Hmm." He thrust deeper, dizzy on her rising sobs. "Zaun's owed so much more. And we'll take it all. Everything."

"Everything," she groaned, arching up to take him fully. "Everything, fuck..."

"Like that?"

"Gods, Sil, don't fucking stop—"

Silco's spine tautened. His body had gone rigid, poised at breakage. Still he held himself steady, prolonging the moment as he did the promise.

Each syllable sinking deeper than a knife to the gut. The cuts would last a lifetime, but the scars would be worth it.

They'd last the distance when all else bled away.

Sevika shuddered; a tear slid over her temples, vanishing into the darkly clinging hair along her scalp. It was greasy, from hard hours of work, and the slew of harder nights leading to this. But it was beautiful, too, for how alive it was: how resilient she was.

How real she felt, falling apart beneath him. Keeping him tethered in all the places he was unraveling, too.

When she came down, she was laughing again. Laughing, and crying, both.

"Not the worst thing," she gasped, "a girl could hear before dying."

"Fuck that," he gritted, locking in for the home stretch. His nerves sang high; a keening pitch he chased the limit. "You'll die old. On—on feather pillows and cotton sheets. After a full life of scrapping, and the best bloody sleep you've. Ever. Had."

"And y-you...?"

"Me?"

"You'll be there?"

He caught her hand, kissing her rough knuckles. "No."

She gasped as he pinned her arms above her head. Sank his full weight down, till the burn between their bodies, blissful bright electricity, stole every doubt beyond the room.

Wiped everything beyond the moment.

"I'm not dying," he grunted, seconds from bursting, "until Zaun's come to life."

She shuddered. He surged. The finish struck like lightning.  Bright static spooling through his skull to ignite a fire in the blackness.

Revolution was like that: just another word for apocalypse, stripped of the terrors.  Not that they'd be spared the latter. Freedom always had a price. Always broke bones and bruised souls.

But the vows, in their shared gutter-tongue, were binding. Full of crude designs and raw hopes, but as real as that night.

Real as the scars.

[mattsfavouritewhore]

Just Go Part 3 - Chris sturniolo

a/n: oh hey pooks!! enjoy this little plot twist of a story

just go part 2 part 4

The morning after their confessions, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was… off. You woke to an empty bed, the cool sheets where Chris had been, and the space beside you felt wider than it ever had before.

You tried not to panic, but the absence of his warmth was a jolt to your system. Last night had been perfect, filled with kisses that seemed to echo long after they’d stopped, confessions that had revealed more than just the depth of your attraction—but also the tenderness neither of you had dared admit. And now, Chris was gone. Not even a note. No trace.

You sat up, your pulse quickening. Did I do something wrong?

But then you saw it: a text from Chris.

Chris: Good morning, I’m sorry, I needed to clear my head. I’ll be back in a little while. Let’s talk then, okay?

Your fingers tightened around the phone. You weren’t sure if it was the coolness of the message, the sudden distance, or the lingering doubt that gnawed at your insides, but you felt an unsettling sensation creep up your spine.

Clear his head?

A million questions raced through your mind, none of them satisfying. And so, you did what you often did when your thoughts spiraled—you poured yourself a cup of coffee, letting the warmth fill your hands as you tried to regain your composure.

You hadn’t expected the vulnerability of last night to be so easily eclipsed by confusion. You had been so… raw. So real. What was he afraid of?

Just as you were starting to tell yourself to relax, to breathe, there was a knock on the door. Your heart leapt in your chest.

You rushed to answer it.

Standing in the doorway, your eyes briefly flickering with recognition before you masked it, was… not Chris.

It was Harper. Your best friend.

Harper stood there, looking a little out of breath, her dark hair slightly askew, her eyes wide with something between curiosity and concern.

“Hey, can I come in?” Harper’s tone was too casual, but her gaze kept darting behind you, as if searching for someone.

“Uh… sure,” you said, stepping aside. Your mind was still racing. “What’s going on? Is something wrong?”

Harper stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. She held something in her hand, a small, folded piece of paper. Your stomach tightened, and a sudden unease crept in.

Harper cleared her throat, glancing down at the paper before holding it out. “I, uh… I think you need to read this.”

You frowned, your heart pounding as you took the paper from Harper’s hand. You unfolded it slowly, your eyes scanning the words that felt like a punch to your gut:

y/n,

I never meant to hurt you, but you deserve the truth. What happened last night—what you think happened with me—wasn't real.

The attraction I felt wasn’t to you. It was to someone else. Someone you know. I didn’t want to lie to you, but I was trying to figure out how to navigate the mess of feelings I have for both of you. I can't keep pretending. I hope you understand why I left so suddenly.

I’ll always care for you. But not in the way you think. Please don’t hate me.

—Chris.

The world tilted.

Your knees buckled, and you sank into the nearest chair, holding the letter as if it might slip from your fingers at any moment. Your chest was tight, the breath caught in your throat. Not in the way you think.

What was this? You looked up at Harper, but your best friend’s face was unreadable.

“Harper, what is this?” you whispered, your voice shaking. “Is this some kind of joke? Because this… this doesn’t make sense. Chris and I… we were…” You trailed off, feeling your heartbeat hammer against your ribs.

Harper didn’t answer right away, her eyes flickering as if she was weighing something heavy on her mind. After a long moment, she took a deep breath.

“Look, I don’t want to hurt you, but I think you need to hear this. Chris… Chris was never supposed to be with you.” Harper’s voice was soft, almost hesitant, but firm in the way she spoke the truth. “He came to me. Confessed everything. The attraction, the feelings he thought he had for you… but they were never really there.”

You blinked, trying to piece it together. “What are you talking about? Are you saying—”

Harper cut you off, her eyes filled with regret. “Look, I’m the one he’s in love with. Not you. It was always me.”

Your world collapsed. The ground beneath your feet felt like it was crumbling, but it wasn’t just your heartbreak you were feeling—it was the betrayal. Chris. And Harper. Your best friend and the man you had fallen for—how had they kept this from you?

Harper stepped forward, her eyes soft but laced with a sadness you had never seen before. "I’m sorry, I never meant for this to happen. But after last night… I couldn’t let him keep lying to you."

You stood up, your voice shaking with a mix of disbelief and hurt. “So you and Chris? All of this was just some twisted game to you both? Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

Harper flinched but didn’t back down. “No, it wasn’t like that. I care about you. But I couldn’t watch him struggle like this, pretending he wanted something he didn’t.” She hesitated. “He tried to walk away from me. He even tried to convince himself it was you. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t lie anymore.”

Your mind was racing, every word, every memory of Chris replaying in your head—every kiss, every touch, all of it a lie.

But then, just as you were about to scream, to demand answers from both of them, there was a sudden knock at the door. A familiar knock.

Your heart stopped. You didn’t have to look to know who it was.

Chris.

Harper stiffened, her eyes darting toward the door, and for a moment, you were frozen, caught between rage and heartbreak.

This was a betrayal that ran deeper than you could’ve ever imagined. But Chris was standing there now, and somehow, this wasn’t over.

Not yet.

“Hey,” Chris’s voice called from the other side of the door. “I need to explain everything. Please, just let me—”

Before he could finish, you stormed toward the door, wrenching it open with every ounce of fury and heartbreak you could summon. You faced him, your chest rising and falling with the weight of everything you had just learned.

“No,” you said, your voice shaking but resolute. “No more lies. No more pretending.”

Chris’s face fell. But just as you were about to speak again, he took a step closer. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. You have to understand—”

But you stepped back. “I don’t need you to explain anything to me anymore. I need you to leave. And I need to find out who I really am without either of you.”

Chris opened his mouth to say something, but you turned away, slamming the door shut behind you, kicking both of them out.

You stood there for a long moment, breathing deeply, your hands trembling, and your heart shattering.

The love you thought was yours—was never yours to begin with.

And now, you had to figure out what came next.

a/n: oof the tensions hot.. i wonder what happens next, thats IF something happens next.

tag: @riggysworld

[haileycantcometothephonern]

Scars

Spencer x fem!reader

Prequel fic to this part (but can be read alone)

CW: pregnancy, kidnapping, torture, angst, also a little bit fluff. (not proofread)

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18 months ago

You felt the kicks before you felt the warm sun rays waking you up from your deep sleep. Your baby has been quite excited, you can tell. She is keen to meet her mom and dad, it seems. You open your eyes slowly and crack a smile at your very pregnant belly.

Sydney. That's what you both decided her name would be. Such a pretty name really. You immediately got up to make yourself some breakfast as your daughter isn't so calm when she starts to get hungry.

You then remember the absence of your husband. You really hoped he would be here before next week, as that's when your due date was and your daughter might come out any moment now. You didn't want Spencer to miss such a pivotal moment of your child's birth. You knew how much he looked forward to it.

As you make yourself some breakfast filled with all kinds of nutrients, your mind goes through all of your pregnancy journey. Spencer and you have always wanted to start a family and you were blessed with your angel a few months ago. You were both equally excited about the new edition to your family and made sure to do thorough research about how to ensure that she's safe and healthy.

Spencer was also very present these past few months, putting his foot down when he is needed here by you or your daughter. You really appreciated his support throughout your pregnancy but since a few weeks he has been quite busy. You understood that he can't keep putting off work to stay with you, but you also wanted him to do that for you. Maybe it was selfish, but you were also on the verge of giving birth to an entire human and you wanted your husband there to support you.

You thought back to the call with Spencer last night as you had your breakfast and wondered when you'll get another update from him. You eventually realized that you're focusing on him too much and he must just be really busy saving lives, so you ended up watching some movie on the TV.

Ring. Ring.

You were jolted awake from your morning nap by your phone's ringtone. You immediately hoped that it was Spencer calling to tell you that he's home bound.

"Hello"

"Hey, baby! How are both of my girls doing?" Spencer sounded tired.

"We're doing good, would do better if you're here with us though." You pouted.

"I know, love. I'm already on the jet, and wanted to check on both of you before we started. Will be there by evening." He sighed into the phone and you can feel him physically relax his shoulders. The case must have been a tough one, well tougher than usual anyway.

"Oh that's great news. I'll start on dinner soon. Love you baby, say love you to papa syd." You tried to make Spencer feel a bit less stressed and you honestly felt really glad that he'll be home soon.

"I love you both, stay safe until i get home." Spencer parroted back, and you can hear the caution in his voice.

You suddenly remembered that you forgot to inform about your doctor's call last night.

"Uh Spence, Dr. Min just called me yesterday. She wanted to see us tomorrow, I told her that I'll let her know if we can after I spoke to you today."

"What did she want to talk about? Is everything alright? Are you okay? Is Sydney okay?" He immediately questioned with worry.

"Yes, yes, we are completely alright. And Dr.Min did not tell me what it was about as she had some emergency and ended the call urgently. But I'm sure it's nothing serious." You said with a doubtful tone, you didn't want him to overthink it during the whole ride.

"It's okay, baby. I'll call Dr.Min, and ask her what it's about. Just take care." Spencer tried to reassure you and ended the call as the pilot was ready for take off.

You ended up taking another nap while snacking on some fruit platter as you were still full from your breakfast when you were once again woken up by a knock this time.

You checked who it was through the peephole first, Spencer instilled this cautiousness in you. It was just some delivery guy, maybe it was the new blanket you ordered three days ago for Sydney.

You excitedly open the door and were about to take your order when the delivery guy is pushed aside and you are being dragged out of your house by two really burly men. You wanted to scream, but they had their guns pointed straight at your belly. You gulped and cooperated with them.

"What do you guys want?" You tried not to sound so scared.

"Your husband knows what we want. Don't worry you'll get out of this unscathed if he listens to our demands." One of them replied and pushed you into a black jeep.

After that your memory goes pretty hazy, as you assume that they drugged you. You regain consciousness after a while, you don't know how long it's been but it was darker outside. You can see that through the only basement window in the room that you were held in. Yep, that's definitely a basement that you were in. You weren't scared as you had complete trust in your husband and his colleagues. You trusted them to save you and your baby.

You then heard some voices from outside the door. You remembered one of the voices was the man who brought you here. Just as you were about to concentrate on what they were talking about, the door to the room opened. In walked the two men who kidnapped you.

"Dr. Reid, as promised. Your wife is here, unscathed. Just get us that plane, our money, and Jason. We'll be out of your hair." He screamed into the phone, you assume Spencer is on the other side of.

"No I'm not going to do anything until you let me talk to her." Spencer tried to sound as neutral as he can, but even you can sense the fear in his voice.

"Alright, suit yourself." The kidnapper placed the phone near your ear. "Speak."

"Hello, Spence?"

You could hear the relief in his voice when he asks you to stay strong like you always do and that he'll be there to get you soon.

"Everything will be alright, baby. I'll be there."

And you believed him. Because why wouldn't you. You believed him with your whole being. You believed him. You made that choice. You let him deceive you. You let him deceive not just you, but also your daughter.

Spencer wasn't there. He wasn't there to save you. He wasn't there to save Sydney. He wasn't there when they cut you. When they left bleeding to your death. When they left Sydney to die with her mom. You still don't have complete memory of what happened after the call.

BAU unlike every other time, failed to deliver on their promise and failed to save you or Sydney. The kidnappers tried to get what they wanted by harming you, thinking that'll motivate the BAU to submit to their demands. But this time, the kidnappers were wrong.

Spencer found you that night, almost at the verge of dying. His heart stopped at the sight of you. Multiple cuts on your arms and your collarbone. One large gash on both of your wrists, blood flowing out uncontrollably. If only they were a bit faster, if only Hotch would have agreed to their demands. He knew that he couldn't blame anyone else but himself for what happened that night. He stayed by your side at the hospital until you regained your consciousness.

"Spence, What happened? Where am I? Where's Sydney?" Your frantic voice woke him up from his seat beside your bed. He looked like he'd been through some kind of apocalypse, maybe he was. His hair unwashed and disheveled. His beard, unshaven. His eyes, sunken, surrounded by pigmentation. He looked like he was crying non-stop.

Your thoughts immediately went back to that night.

"Sydney. Where's Sydney, Spencer?" You asked cautiously.

He looked like he was on the verge of tears and held your hands. His lips opened and closed, and tears started streaming down his cheeks.

"No, no, no. It can't be. No, not her. Spence." You were beyond frantic now. The tears came first.

You didn't want to believe that she was no more. Your love, your angel, your baby. Your Sydney.

You sobbed and sobbed and hiccups echoing off the hospital walls. Throughout it all Spencer held you, letting you express your grief. He had his time, although he thought no time could heal this wound. He wanted so badly to redo everything.

The BAU had all visited you and him, offering their condolences. Hotch showed up too, expressing his regret and guilt. Spencer assured him that he doesn't hold anything against him. You didn't reply to anyone. Not him, not his mom, not your parents, nor your friends. You didn't have anything else to say. You didn't know what one says when they feel like their soul has been snatched away. Their voice had been hijacked. Only thing you can know and feel for sure was the ache in your heart and the emptiness in your womb.

Days passed away before you knew it and it was finally time to go home. Spencer packed everything up from your hospital room and called out to you.

"(Y/N), It's time to go home baby." He whispered slowly placing his hand on your shoulder.

You looked away from the windows and towards him. Yes, nobody is at fault except Spencer. It was him who promised to keep you and your baby safe. But he was nowhere to be found on the day you actually needed him. He was the one who caused all of this. Your brain, filled with grief couldn't decipher what it was thinking or where your thoughts are taking you. You knew only one thing for sure, you wanted to hurt someone. You wanted him to hurt.

"Spencer you killed her. You killed my baby." Your voice was barely a whisper, you almost thought he didn't hear you. But the way his eyes dulled and filled with guilt showed you that he did hear it.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, baby." He said, he sounded wracked with guilt. He started sobbing.

That was the first time in a few days you felt some kind of sick relief. A part of you ached at seeing him like that. But the sick satisfaction over took every other feeling.

"Spencer, I'm going to hurt you until I can find peace. I promise, and I don't break them like you do." Your voice was filled with vitriol. Spencer never even imagined that you could look at him with such hatred in your eyes, but he was proved wrong today.

He knew he was going to be blamed for everything. And he blamed himself too. He was okay with taking everything from you, because he knew behind all that hatred and vitriol, there was love. So he was willing to be your punching bag for however long you want him to be.

You realized that Spencer was going to accept it. And you knew you were just getting started. Maybe this will end up hurting you both, but you felt like that's what the two of you deserved in the end. For failing to save her. Your Sydney.

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a/n: Not that satisfied with how this turned out, wanted to write fluff but it turned out into angst 😭😭. anyways i'm thinking of writing a fluff series next and maybe an angst one too. deleted one on my old blog, want to restart it.