#u know hopefully this makes sense lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

notesof-mh · 2 years ago

Text

AHHHH JACKIE THIS WAS SO GOODDDDDD. your writing is unparalleled. and i cant believe wrote 9.3k words?? for me?? in a month?? truly insane <3 and im so sorry this took me so long, ive been busy and also wanted to savor my first read of it

also i feel like i have too many thought to just put them in the tags so im j dumping them here, i hope thats ok

It starts, as it always does with this particular collection of friends, with shenanigans and cahoots.

honestly i truly love this intro. it gives this fic the feeling that this is just one of many different events the characters experience, like a single episode in a sitcom.

also w wonwoo in the first part i love how nonreactive he is?? like yes the message is anonymous but soonyoung and jun are just telling some stranger abt his love life? and also called him a “huge awkward loser”? but he just seems so resigned lol

“No, this will be good,” Junhui says, plopping down on the edge of Wonwoo’s bed. “Minghao told me that whoever runs the advice column in the school paper is, like, a love guru

also i truly believe that jun and minghao masterminded this whole thing trying to tell y/n that wonwoo was in love w her. and also i think there is too much evidence for this to not have been your intention. truly so tragic then that y/n is dumb and missed all the signs and that soonyoung somehow accidentally finally caused y/n and wonwoo to get together.

bc with all the messages signed by soonyoung and jun, there’s no way hao didn’t either tell them or strongly hint that those messages were guaranteed to be seen by y/n

Friday Free-for-alls, when you field confessions of all types. Dear Cherry, I need to get this off my chest. I’ve been using my roommate’s shampoo this whole semester, and today I found out that our two other roommates have also been using this roommate’s shampoo. He doesn’t suspect a thing.

maybe im remembering wrong, but wasn’t there an interview or something w i think wayv (or maybe another nct unit but pretty sure its them) where they admitted to using each others face soap (?) im probably wrong but is there any chance this was inspired by that?

Choi Seungcheol, fraternity president, football player, gym rat, jock, fuckboy extraordinaire— relationship advice columnist? No, it’s simply not realistic.

i love the concept of Scoups being the original Cherry (like the concept of one of his frat brothers writing in and him responding? but both doing it in secret?? idk i j love the image of it)

also the description of the albino squirrel as a good omen is such a cute and funny little detail to add!

“He’s not that bad,” you find yourself defending your fake boyfriend. “Mingyu is nice, and he’s really tall.”

You blink. Mingyu turns his pout on you now. “Nice and really tall? Are you for real?”

kajdfhjklhdfkjhd nooooo this description of mingyuuuuu. the way she tries to defend him but gives the most underwhelming reasons 😭😭😭

also the way jun immediately left w wonwoo when y/n revealed she was fake dating mingyu? such a good friend!!! we’d all be lucky to have a friend like jun 🥺

A part of you expects to see him in a different light, now that you think you love him, like there’s supposed to be cherubs singing and starlight in his eyes or something, but instead, you just see regular old Wonwoo. Your best friend.

the realization that y/n loves wonwoo was so soooo well written and i loved this part of it especially. it rlly captures what i like so much abt the friends to lovers trope

“You can ignore him,” Minghao says, passing by with a full bottle of wine in each hand on his way to put them away in the kitchen. “I don’t think you should be giving any love advice when your own love life is a mess,” he sniffs.

i love love love the way you wrote bestie hao in this fic! the (well-deserved) judgement! the attitude! (also since im pretty sure he was masterminding this i love how he essentially gets to see firsthand his plan crashing and burning bc y/n is an idiot)

In retrospect, Mingyu was definitely going to win that Greek God competition, even if Jaehyun from Nu Kapp put up a good fight.

unrelated but you should know i still think abt those comments you made abt Jaehyun’s legs looking like chicken breast for the seoul city photos. you were very right but now i cant stop thinking abt it i checked and those photos were posted over a year ago 😭😭

“Overwatch,” you insist, tugging him towards the door. “Friday night. It’s Wonwoo and Y/N night.”

SHE REMEMBEREDDDDDD!!!!!!

The Wonwoo you know is shy and awkward and doesn’t quite know how to fit himself into social situations. He’s clumsy and absentminded and needs someone to take care of him, to dote on him and give him attention.

The Wonwoo that you know, you’ve known since you were in second grade, standing over the boy you had knocked over with a rubber kickball, staring at him as he sniffled on the woodchips and glared at you through big watery eyes. That day, you decided right then and there that this boy would be yours, and now…

awkejlfilaNj;oboajkdshfj something something -ill take care of you -its rotten work -not to me not if its youakdsjakjsdhkljhghjjkljkagjklahgei m screAMINGGGGG

It’s raw hurt, sharp, painful. His mouth twists and his brows furrow and he looks at you like you’re something to be afraid of. You hate it. You hate that you’re the cause of it, that he’s feeling this, whatever it is, because of you, even though you’re not sure why.

NOOOOOOOOOOO ajksdhfkjh its the way you describe the pain on his faceNOOOOOOOOO

“Go to sleep,” he says flatly. “Tomorrow you’ll wake up and go back to your boyfriend, and you’ll be happy that nothing happened tonight.”

im. in tears.

“You didn’t do anything embarrassing,” he grins, “except for abandoning your boyfriend at the party because you wanted to play Overwatch with me. C’mon, do you want to get brunch?”

noooo and the way the next morning hes still so caring and sweet 🥺🥺. if i were him i would’ve kicked y/n out of my apartment as soon as possible

“Yeah,” Wonwoo replies. His voice is tinny and quiet, but still clear, like he’s slipped his headset off and mic is pushed away. “I’m gaming with Y/N. I’m muted, don’t worry.”

ah yes the classic “im muted” but they’re not accidental confession. truly a favorite of mine

“I’m so glad we’re going to college together, Wonwoo. I want to be with you forever.”

And he had watched you as you said it, quiet, like he was breathless. Like you had said something terrible and incredible at the same time.

It’s always been Wonwoo beside you, lazy summers spent playing video games, late night phone calls where you’d talk and he’d listen, after class in his car listening to the radio and eating junk food. Had he loved you then? With ketchup on your shirt and acne across your face and poorly box-dyed hair? And had you loved him then too? Before you even knew what love is?

AAHAHHLAJHHHHHKAJLHDLAIUWHGLIUHUIHIUWEGUHUIAEGW AGAIN EVIDENCE YOURE SOMEHOW IN MY MIND CAPTURING EVERYTHING I LOVE ABOUT THIS TROPE AND EXECUTING IT TO PERFECTION!!!!!<333 ekjfhjh its all abt seeing the other at their most ordinary!!! and loving them for it!!!!!

“Wonwoo, I’m going downstairs,” you tell him.

“Wait–” his voice is tight and panicked, but you’re already tugging your headset off and grabbing your keys.

the parallel between earlier when y/n wanted to go down but didn’t after talking abt wonwoo’s crush and at the end when she realizes *she* was the crush?!!! *chefs kiss* (i do love me a good parallel)

“It was dark and I was tired. You didn’t notice that I passed out as soon as we dimmed the lights?” He raises his eyebrows as he defends himself, and you bury your face in your hands.

Click. The pieces are all falling in place.

the way he was sleeping?!!! so comedic and also so much better than the misunderstanding j being that y/n didn’t tell him

they’re idiots but i wouldnt have it any other way. i love when characters are idiots <3

“God,” he gasps between laughs, “we’re both so, so stupid.” And then you’re laughing too.

!!!

akjdfhjhh and the ending was so so so (x120398948949) sweet!

out of the frying pan and into your heart

jeon wonwoo x female reader

tags: college au, fraternities, fake dating, misunderstandings, childhood friends to lovers, this all could have been resolved with some proper communication, lots of pining specifically for em, fluff, rom com, best friend minghao, y/n is oblivious!!!

warnings: alcohol, weed, frats, american college setting

words: 9.3k

synopsis:

it starts, as it always does with this particular collection of friends, with shenanigans and cahoots.

well, more specifically, for wonwoo it starts with shenanigans, when soonyoung and junhui somehow manage to collide brain cells and write in to the school newspaper's love advice columnist about his crush on his childhood best friend.

and for you, the aforementioned childhood best friend and, in secret, also the aforementioned love advice columnist, it starts with cahoots when kim mingyu manages to convince you to fake date him so he can win some popularity contest for his frat.

for @notesof-mh

It starts, as it always does with this particular collection of friends, with shenanigans and cahoots.

Well, more specifically, for Wonwoo it starts with shenanigans, when Soonyoung and Junhui somehow manage to collide brain cells.

He had barely been awake for 15 seconds when they had barged into his room, laptop in hands, just to show him the text in a pink-colored submission box surrounded by heart emojis. Wonwoo squints, the blurry words coming into just enough focus for him to make out what they say. “Dear Cherry, I’m a third year computer science student and I’m in love with my best friend, except I’m— what the hell is this?”

He glares at Soonyoung who grins cheerfully and points again at the screen. “Read the rest, Wonwoo!”

Wonwoo sighs and continues reading. “Except I’m a huge awkward loser and she’s so cool and pretty, and I don’t know how to tell her I like her. What should I do?”

“Alright, hit send,” Junhui instructs, tilting the laptop away and laughing maniacally.

Wonwoo pushes his hand across his face, trying his best to wipe away the last vestiges of sleep-addled confusion, and then he realizes what’s happening.

“Wait, you can’t do that,” he tries to protest, but Soonyoung giggles and clicks a button.

“No, this will be good,” Junhui says, plopping down on the edge of Wonwoo’s bed. “Minghao told me that whoever runs the advice column in the school paper is, like, a love guru, and she has four thousand followers on instagram. And she’s never shown her face, but she’s probably also really pretty.”

Wonwoo groans. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

“Just trust us,” Soonyoung pats Wonwoo’s knee through the blanket, “this is a good idea.”

And for you, it starts with kahoots, when your chemistry lab partner, Mingyu, pulls your stool closer to his side and whispers a proposition to you.

“Do you want to be my fake girlfriend?”

You narrow your eyes at him through your fogged up department-issued safety goggles. “Are you insane? What kind of fumes are you on?”

“None,” Mingyu replies. “I’m Sigma’s nominee for the Greek God award at the inter-fraternity tournament this year and I’m the only nominee who’s single.”

“And so I’m your pick,” you respond flatly.

Mingyu nods eagerly. His safety glasses slide down his nose, and he has to push them back up. “Yeah, you’re so pretty and cool, I think it’d be really impressive if I somehow managed to pull you.”

“Huh.”

“And,” he adds on, lowering his voice even more, “Jeonghan thinks my only real competition this year is going to be Jung Jaehyun from Nu Kappa Tau, and rumor has it you rejected him in high school. Twice. So I think it’d be pretty funny if we ended up together.”

You scoff and turn back toward the titration in front of you. “You can’t go up to people and ask for things like this.”

“C’mon, you know the winner gets free parking for an entire semester,” he whines. “Ok, how’s this? If you’ll pretend to be my girlfriend for the Greek God award, I’ll write our lab reports for the rest of the semester.”

His offer makes you pause, and he jumps on that pause, wedging his way in there.

“I’ll give you executive editing power, but I’ll do all the work,” he wheedles, “and I’ll give you a perfect peer eval at the end of the semester. I promise,” he puts a big meaty hand on your lab notebook and smears the ink under his fingers. “Kim Mingyu isn’t a liar.”

“I’ll conveniently ignore the fact that you’re lying about having a girlfriend to win this award, then,” you roll your eyes.

“That’s different, though,” he protests, “the award is dumb and meaningless and I really want it. But a promise made between buddies is important.”

He looks earnest, so you decide to lay off on him just a little. “When we’re fake-dating,” you sigh, “you can’t call us buddies anymore.”

“So that’s a…”

You groan, hating yourself for being so indulgent. “Yes. That’s a yes.”

“Hold on Y/N, have you seen this?”

“Seen what?” You look over the top of your laptop screen, where you’re halfway through a paper on the Cuban Missile Crisis.

Minghao, your co-admin of the school newspaper’s (infamous) advice column turns his screen towards you. “Someone wrote in calling themselves a huge awkward loser.”

“Huh,” you grin to yourself as you read over the message quickly. “That’s kind of cute, actually.”

“Of course you think it’s cute,” Minghao rolls his eyes. “I’m going to assign this one over to you.”

“Yeah, sure, but please,” you mutter, “can you be a bit more discreet about it?”

Minghao looks at you over the top of his glasses. “What, about us being Ask Cherry? It’s not as embarrassing as you make it out to be.”

“Be quiet,” you hiss, looking around, “someone could overhear!” You frown, and then quietly, you add on, “and it is embarrassing. I’m supposed to be a journalism major, and I’m here making up horoscopes and giving fake relationship advice three days a week.”

This is an overstatement, and Minghao rolls his eyes. You only make up horoscopes and give fake relationship advice one day a week (Mondays are for Matters Of The Heart, your schedule says). There’s also Am I The Asshole Wednesdays, a campus favorite, and Friday Free-for-alls, when you field confessions of all types. Dear Cherry, I need to get this off my chest. I’ve been using my roommate’s shampoo this whole semester, and today I found out that our two other roommates have also been using this roommate’s shampoo. He doesn’t suspect a thing.

You hadn’t meant to end up in this position. You write serious pieces for the school newspaper too, reporting on the Student Government’s legislative sessions and the university’s semesterly budget for grants to culturally-centered student organizations. Those articles, you have your name attached to. But at the end of last year, the new editor-in-chief Jeonghan had approached you and convinced (strong-armed) you into becoming the new writer for the infamous advice column, Ask Cherry, since Cherry himself was quitting to make more time for other priorities.

(“And the kicker is,” you had complained to Minghao, “nobody will ever believe me.” Choi Seungcheol, fraternity president, football player, gym rat, jock, fuckboy extraordinaire— relationship advice columnist? No, it’s simply not realistic.

“I’m sitting on the juiciest piece of gossip to cross my path in my entire life, and I can’t do anything about it,” you say dejectedly.

“Hmm.” Minghao doesn’t even pretend to be interested.)

But, despite your disastrous real-world love life, your clumsily dispensed life advice, and the completely made up horoscopes, Ask Cherry readership skyrocketed under your intrepid watch. Once, you told a reader that the albino squirrel that lives in the tree next to the physics building was a good omen, and the next day, rumor spread that an albino squirrel sighting would grant you an A on your next exam. For weeks after, people would scatter peanuts and pieces of toast by the base of the tree next to the physics building, until campus facilities had to fence the area off because raccoons were starting to show up instead.

Minghao finding out had been a complete accident, after you had lent him your laptop to print out a paper that was due the next hour, but you had forgotten to minimize the window with your Ask Chrery submissions. Minghao, being someone who loves giving advice, both solicited and unsolicited, naturally joined in on this scheme of yours.

“Anyways,” you shrug. You look up as Junhui steps into the public study area of the library and scans the tables twice before making eye contact with you, and then waving. “Minghao, did you invite the others over to study with us?”

“Yeah,” Minghao responds, raising an eyebrow at you. “You got a problem with that?”

“No, it’s just—“ you’re about to complain about never being able to focus on your work with the rest of them around, but the words die on your lips when you spot Wonwoo trailing behind Junhui with a bemused expression on his face and a cardboard tray holding bubble teas in his hands. You can’t help the grin that spreads across your face. “Hey guys,” you wave over to them, clearing off the table space next to you to make room for them.

“I brought you a taro milk tea,” Junhui announces, gesturing behind him, “and a Wonwoo to boot.”

“He made me walk with him because he didn’t know your favorite drink,” Wonwoo explains quietly as he slides the drinks onto the table and takes his seat next to you. “Are you working on that international relations paper?”

“Yeah.” You take your taro milk tea. No ice, 50% sweet, tapioca pearls and grass jelly, just the way you like it.

“Do you think you’ll be done by Friday?”

“I will be free by then,” you promise him, punctuating your statement by stabbing your boba straw through the film covering the cup. You’d rather suffer through an all nighter on Sunday than miss your regular Friday night gaming sessions with Wonwoo, a tradition the two of you have kept up since both of you were in middle school and still playing Starcraft.

“Anyway,” Junhui leans over the table, resting his chin on top of his interlaced fingers. “I have a funny story.”

You tear your gaze away from Wonwoo. “Hm?”

“So, you know that advice columnist for the school paper? Wonwoo submitted a question the other day. Well, Soonyoung and I did, but for Wonwoo.”

You feel your blood run cold. It’s not that you’re ashamed of running a love advice column, but it’s more that you’re… embarrassed. And you’ve been running it in secret for so long that at this point, you can’t even fathom anyone outside of Minghao knowing. Maybe when you graduate, you’ll do an identity reveal, but you’re not quite there now.

“Can we talk about literally anything else,” Wonwoo grouses, somewhat to your relief. he glares at Junhui, but the effect is somewhat dampened when he lifts his bubble tea to his mouth and loudly slurps up some tapioca pearls.

“Yeah,” you quickly agree, not eager to have your secret identity exposed.

Junhui steamrolls on ahead, however. “So. If you’re reading the column and there’s a question from someone who has a big stupid crush, you know who it’s from.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Wonwoo? A crush?

“Junhui,” Wonwoo groans, digging his fingers into the bridge of his nose, brows furrowed in an expression of exquisite pain.

Minghao, however, leans forward and lets his glasses slide down his nose. He laces his fingers together. “A crush? On who?”

Junhui and Minghao both turn to stare at Wonwoo, who flushes beet red.

“Oh, hey guys!”

You feel a heavy arm around your shoulder and turn to see, to your abject horror, Mingyu, who scoots his way onto the bench to squeeze in next to you. “What are you doing here,” you hiss at your oversized interloper, but Mingyu just glances pointedly at the spot two tables down where a bunch of upperclassmen are sitting and chatting. You recognize Choi Seungcheol, the president of Mingyu’s frat, and you sigh and deflate. Fine. A promise is a promise.

You smile weakly at the other three guys sitting at your table. “Surprise,” you say flatly,” Mingyu is my boyfriend now.”

You’re momentarily distracted by a loud honking noise as Junhui narrowly avoids choking on his bubble tea and spraying the table through his nose.

“Mingyu?!” Minghao sounds simultaneously dismayed and slightly judgemental.

“C’mon, dude,” Mingyu whines, slumping like a kicked puppy. You pat his bicep soothingly. “You don’t have to make it sound that bad.”

Minghao and Junhui share a conspicuous glance. Mingyu isn’t the type of guy you’d usually go for, but you think this reaction is a bit uncalled for. “He’s not that bad,” you find yourself defending your fake boyfriend. “Mingyu is nice, and he’s really tall.”

You blink. Mingyu turns his pout on you now. “Nice and really tall? Are you for real?”

“It’s true,” you scowl at him. “Are you here to study, or did you just come by to get on my nerves?”

“Okay, well,” Junhui interjects sharply, “Wonwoo and I should get going.”

“Wait, but you two just got here,” you attempt to protest, but Wonwoo, who had been quiet this whole time, stands up and slings his backpack over his shoulder.

“I’ll see you later, Y/N,” he says to you, before leaving along with Junhui.

(It’s not until later, when you’re lounging with Minghao in the living room of your shared apartment, that it hits you, again, but this time with its full weight.

“Wonwoo likes someone,” you say out loud. It’s not a question.

Minghao glances up form his book at you with a frown plastered across his face, his brows creased with irritation. He evaluates you carefully over the silver rims of his glasses, which you know aren’t prescription but are mainly there to make him look elegant and intellectual.

“...yes,” he finally acknowledges.

You frown despite yourself. “I wonder who it is.”

“What does it matter to you,” Minghao scoffs, “you’re dating Mingyu, remember?”

“You can pretend to hate Gyu, but I know you like him better than any of the rest of us.” You really hadn’t been expecting to defend Mingyu twice in a day, but you suppose that’s life as Kim Mingyu’s girlfriend. “And anyways, Wonwoo and I have been friends since we were kids. I can’t believe he didn’t tell me earlier.”

“Yeah, he probably can’t believe it either,” Minghao mutters under his breath so quietly, you almost miss it. Then, in a louder voice, he chides, “don’t think too much about it, yeah? You still have to reply professionally to his advice request. His anonymous advice request.”

“Right,” you sigh dejectedly, frowning at your laptop balanced across your knees. “How do I tell him that he’s not a nerd and a loser without giving away that I know who he is?”

Minghao shrugs. “Maybe tell him to be patient. Or maybe tell him to try to start getting over his crush.”

You consider his suggestion for a moment. It’s appealing, but then the thought of Wonwoo wasting away in his dark bedroom, sighing as he pines over his unrequited love, flashes across your mind. “I just don’t want him to be sad.”)

“C’mon, he was right on top of you,” Wonwoo complains. You can hear the creaking of his gaming chair in the background, undoubtedly as he rises from his reclined position to gulp down more of whatever energy drink he has in his mini fridge this week. You groan and dig your fingers into the junction between your neck and shoulder, trying with little success to work out the knot that’s developed over this last round of PUBG.

“Wonwoo, that’s the problem, I suck at close range,” you huff in response, “you know I get panicky and forget to turn off auto-fire.”

It’s game night, and you and Wonwoo have been at it for the past two hours. Your paper isn’t done yet, but it can wait. It’s been over a decade since the years when the two of you would spend your summers together playing video games and walking aimlessly around the neighborhood with half-melted popsicles, talking for hours. But even as your social circles diverted from his, it’s always been something of an unspoken agreement that for this, you’d always make time for Wonwoo, and he’d always make time for you.

“Another round?” You and Wonwoo both ask the question at the same time. There’s a pause, and then you’re both laughing. Even over the headset mic, Wonwoo’s laugh is loud and unrestrained. It feels like a secret, a side of Wonwoo that he saves just for you and for Friday nights spent on opposite sides of the monitor.

“So.” You’re still waiting for the next match to start when Wonwoo breaks the comfortable silence. “Mingyu?”

You fidget at the ties of your hoodie. It’s stolen from Wonwoo, and you’ve had it since middle school at least. “Yeah?”

“Interesting choice.”

“What does that mean?”

He makes a casual, noncommittal noise. “I’m just surprised. I didn’t see it coming, and you didn’t tell me about it.”

You open your mouth to tell him that it’s actually all a ruse, to explain the whole situation, but the hard, petulant edge to his voice makes you pause. Wonwoo sounds… upset. But not quite upset. Jealous?

“Wonwoo,” you laugh. Onscreen, the timer counting down to the start of the match appears, and you jam on the space bar to make your character jump over his character’s prone body. “Wonwoo, are you jealous?”

Over your headphones, you hear the sound of his gaming chair squeaking. “I’m not jealous,” he says, in a tone of voice that sounds exactly like Wonwoo when he’s jealous.

“You are. Where are we landing?” You toggle to the map in the game and zoom in on the path that the plane is taking. The player count in the bottom starts dropping as other players jump out.

“Blue marker, does that look good to you? There’s a few houses we can loot, and it’s not close to the flight path. If we get bad circle placement, you can shoot me in the foot, if you want. As a treat.”

“Yeah, fine. Lead the way, boss. Anyways, why are you jealous?” You suppress the flutter in your chest. There’s no reason for you to get your hopes up.

“You’re my friend,” Wonwoo says simply. It feels like a heavy towel being thrown over you. “You used to tell me everything. Mingyu is… fine,” he admits reluctantly. “He’s a good guy. I’m happy for you.”

Your heart clenches. You want to say something soft and sincere, but instead, you return with a jab. “You can’t be upset at me for keeping secrets, Wonwoo. What was Junhui saying about you liking someone?”

“Junhui just says stuff sometimes,” he replies curtly.

You frown. “Junhui isn’t a liar, though. Who is it?” You ask, despite everything in you telling yourself that you don’t want to know the answer. “Who are they? Maybe I can talk to them for you.”

He laughs humorlessly. “It doesn’t matter. She’s in a relationship with someone else.”

You almost sigh in relief, but you stop yourself just in time. Why are you relieved? “Oh, Wonwoo. That sucks. She doesn’t know what she’s missing out on.”

Wonwoo makes a noise that tells you he’s shrugging. “She deserves better than me.”

“Hey!” You sit up, straightening your spine in indignation. “Don’t say that. You’re great, Wonwoo. You’re criminally underappreciated. You’re smart and you’re so sincere and kind, and maybe other people don’t acknowledge it, but you’re really funny and interesting.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and the only thing you hear is the game audio as your character collects supplies and clears the building the two of you are in. “Let me know if you find any gun that’s not a pistol, by the way. I have a 2x scope on me.”

“Thank you,” Wonwoo replies. You know he’s not talking about the scope.

Even though the two of you are gaming individually in your own rooms, you want nothing more than to tug off your headphones and go down the two flights of stairs to Wonwoo’s apartment and give him a hug.

“I have an AKM and a bunch of healing items on me,” Wonwoo says, “come to me and you can have whatever you want.”

It would have been much less embarrassing if you had realized it last week when you were walking to class and Wonwoo had stopped you in the middle of the sidewalk to pluck a fallen leaf from your hair with that stupidly fond expression plastered on his face; or maybe when you accidentally fell asleep in his bed during an afternoon study session and woke up later with your head on his shoulder, legs tangled together, the sound of his soft snoring puffing in your ear, his hand held loosely in yours. Maybe in another life, it would have been one of those soft, romantic moments, like something out of a coming of age anime. But no, because you’re you and your life is the way it is, the moment you realize you’re in love with Wonwoo goes like this:

It’s Sunday, noon already, and you’re in Wonwoo’s shared apartment. Junhui had let you in earlier when you had knocked at their door until your knuckles were sore. When you burst unceremoniously into Wonwoo’s bedroom, he’s still asleep with his glasses on, smudged and crooked, and his phone on his chest. You frown. “Wake up, Wonwoo. Did you fall asleep while watching dramas again?”

Wonwoo jumps slightly and lifts his head, brows furrowing. “Huh?”

“You said you’d go to lunch with me.” You extend your arms and spin to show off your cute, perfectly coordinated outfit, picked out specifically to match the instagram trap you’re going to. You even broke out the eyeliner and glitter eyeshadow to match the cute knit cardigan and wool miniskirt you put on. “What hat should I wear? The fuzzy bucket hat,” you hold up option one, “or the beret,” you hold up option two, looking down at Wonwoo expectantly.

Your best friend groans and collapses back onto the bed, eyes sliding shut. “Um. The beret.”

“Okay great, now get out of bed. Our reservation is soon and you still need to wash your face and get dressed.” You poke at his cheek, which is greasy from sleep and still bears the imprint of his pillow.

“Can you get Minghao to go with you instead?” He doesn’t bother opening his eyes.

“Nope,” you respond, popping the ‘p’, “he has dance practice.”

“Mingyu?”

“He said he had a textile arts club meeting?” You frown. “I’m not sure what it is, but he’s been crocheting like crazy for it this week.”

“Um,” Wonwoo smacks his hand over his face, clearly trying to think of other options. He forgets, however, that he fell asleep with his glasses on, and ends up jamming the frames against this cheek. “Ow. Ok, what about, uh, Seokmin?”

You pout at him even though he can’t see it. “Wonu,” you whine, sitting down on his bed, “I want to go to lunch with you, though.”

At that, he finally cracks his eyes open. “Why?”

Because, you want to say, I don’t want to do this with anybody other than you. You briefly try to imagine doing this whole thing– dressing up, making a reservation, taking pictures and walking around town, huddling together in a cafe in the afternoon to watch the latest Nintendo Direct together– with anybody else, but you just quite settle on it comfortably. No. It has to be Wonwoo. Because Wonwoo is your best friend, because Wonwoo has always been there for you, because Wonwoo just gets you, better than anybody ever has, and every moment you spend with Wonwoo, you feel your mood lifting and relaxing. Because you trust Wonwoo and he trusts you, and because you know him, and you love him–

You love him.

Oh.

You’ll have to process that later. “Because you have a car and you can drive me,” you tell Wonwoo instead, shoving the revelation down to the back of your mind and putting it in a box labeled problems for future me.

“Fine,” Wonwoo acquiesces, sitting up with enormous effort. His hair is still sticking up in all directions, making him look like a big dark dandelion. A part of you expects to see him in a different light, now that you think you love him, like there’s supposed to be cherubs singing and starlight in his eyes or something, but instead, you just see regular old Wonwoo. Your best friend. He doesn’t suddenly look like a vision sent from heaven, he just looks sleepy and crusty and a little greasy.

“Hurry up and brush your teeth,” you tell him, slapping him lightly on his belly and laughing at the resulting ouuff that jerks out of him, “you have morning breath and I can smell it from here.”

From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Re: advice

Dear Cherry, my friend is in love with his childhood friend but she doesn’t love him back :( how do we make her fall in love with him? from anonymous

“Hm,” you sigh out loud, “I wonder if Soonyoung knows that the anonymous signoff is made moot by the fact that he emailed this one in instead of using the anonymous submission box.” You’re draped on the couch with your legs propped all the way up and your laptop on your chest as you scroll through this week’s Am I The Asshole Wednesday submissions.

“You’re the asshole,” you announce, not looking up from your screen. “That was for you, Minghao.” Clearly, he’s still mad at you after you had revealed the whole Mingyu situation to him a few nights ago. You still remember the blistering look that Minghao had thrown at you, like you’re the dumbest human he’s ever had the supreme displeasure of knowing.

“I guess you don’t want to go to the dance team party with me, then,” your roommate responds smoothly, returning from the kitchen. It’s only 6pm, but Minghao is already dressed in a silk pajama set with a matching robe, lenseless glasses frames perched on the tip of his nose, smelling of strawberry-scented lotion as he pours himself a glass of wine.

You scowl at him. “Fine. I don’t care.” Turning back to your laptop, you scroll past a few more boring submissions on your hunt for the truly salacious stuff your classmates get up to. “I wonder what Soonyoung is even talking about, though,” you mumble, half to yourself, as you click on the next interesting subject line.

In retrospect, Mingyu was definitely going to win that Greek God competition, even if Jaehyun from Nu Kapp put up a good fight.

Mingyu’s physique is certainly impressive, and the audience erupted when he won the (shirtless and oiled-up, for some reason) pushup contest, but his clumsiness eventually led him to lose at every other physical challenge. It was his overwhelming victory in the popularity vote and personality contest that got him to first place. It’s probably all because of his unwavering friendliness and his constant need for affirmation manifesting into an overwhelming desire to be helpful, but you like to think that maybe you helped too.

That’s why you’re here, in the kitchen of the Sigma house, absolutely wasted at the celebration party the frat is throwing in honor of Mingyu being crowned the best frat star on campus. Between the blunt that you, Mingyu, Minghao, and Seokmin, another friend in your year, had passed around upstairs, and all the shots that Mingyu had plied you with, you’re feeling weirdly bouncy and giggly and not entirely sure if you’ll remember this the next morning.

“Okay, so,” Mingyu mumbles, pulling you closer as the two of you nestle in a corner, away from whatever is going on at the beer pong table, “we should stage a breakup, right?”

You giggle against the hollow of his throat, arms looped over his shoulders. “Can we make it your fault?”

He whines like a kicked puppy. “Why can’t we make it mutual? Jeonghan would kick my ass.”

“Fine, fine,” you huff, not at all reluctant. “We should give it some time so it’s not suspicious, right?”

“Yeah.” Mingyu nods, accidentally knocking his chin against your forehead. “You’re so smart.”

“Which means I’m still on girlfriend duty tonight,” you conclude.

“Oh, come on.” Mingyu’s hands come down to rest at your waist, his fingertips skimming along the waistband of your skirt, eliciting a shiver from you when you feel his rough, warm skin against yours. “You make it sound like a chore.”

You sigh. Oh well, you could do much worse than Mingyu.

You’re not sure if it’s the weed or the alcohol, or maybe just jealousy at this fake version of yourself that’s happy with a boyfriend and not moping over an unrequited crush on your childhood best friend, but you find it strangely easy to lean up and attach your lips to Mingyu’s, feel the wet heat of his tongue in your mouth. and Mingyu, pliant under your grip as always, kisses you back, going along with it without a second thought.

“No offense,” he pants as he parts from you, “but I don’t think I want to hook up with you.”

You blink at him. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No, no,” he clarifies quickly, “you’re a good kisser, I just don’t want things to be weird between us, which I think might happen if we hook up.”

“If fake dating didn’t make things weird, I’m not sure that hooking up would,” you laugh, more of a giggle than anything. You attach your lips to his jaw, pulling him down towards you so you don’t have to crane your neck.

“And also,” he nudges at the hair behind your ear with his nose, “you’re like, totally wasted right now.”

“You’re not sober either,” you shoot back, accusatory.

“More sober than you,” he shoots back. He’s right, though. His large stature means that he can hold his liquor much better than you. “It wouldn’t be fair,” he pouts, stubborn, “and I’m not a creep.”

“Fine.” You tug lightly at the short hairs on the back of his head.

“Are… are you okay?”

Mingyu’s question makes you hesitate for a moment. You lean your flushed cheek against the jut of his collarbone. “I’m drunk,” you respond flatly.

“No, not that, you’re just usually not this…” you feel Mingyu gulp, “clingy.”

You wonder if you should tell him about Wonwoo and your stupid pointless crush that’s starting to feel less like a crush every time you’re with him and more like… something deeper. Something frightening, like a yawning chasm, just waiting for you to fall in.

You’re saved the effort of further deliberation, however, when Mingyu suddenly raises his head and interrupts your thoughts. “Hey, isn’t that Wonwoo?”

You lift yourself off of Mingyu’s chest and look behind you. True to his word, it really is Wonwoo, standing by the door, jacket on, looking at you like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Huh, he doesn’t usually come to these,” Mingyu observes, tugging idly at the bottom of your shirt. “I wonder why he’s here.”

You think you know why he’s here, though. Earlier, back upstairs, you had excused yourself to the bathroom to take a quick breather. Through an alcohol and weed induced haze, you had belatedly realized that it’s Friday night, and you’re late.

you: cn you come pick me u you: at sigma wonu: are you ok? i’ll be there in a few you: sry im drunk you: wanna go home w u

Now, staring Wonwoo dead in the eyes, you realize with a jolt that you had never told him why you asked him to pick you up. You peel yourself off your fake boyfriend and stumble, clumsily, towards Wonwoo, trying your best to ignore the way the room spins around you.

“Wonu,” you whine reaching out to him.

He frowns. “Are you okay? What’s happening?”

“I’m drunk,” you tell him.

“I know.” He extends his arm and lets you cling on to him as you stumble into his torso.

“And it’s Friday night,” you look up at him.

“Yes.”

“We’re supposed to be playing Overwatch together.” You give him the best puppy eyes you can muster, and he blinks at you, looking flustered.

“Huh?”

“Overwatch,” you insist, tugging him towards the door. “Friday night. It’s Wonwoo and Y/N night.”

“Is… is this what you called me over here for?”

You nod and begin dragging Wonwoo out by the wrist.

The cool air outside hits your flushed skin like a wave, like you’re jumping into a pool. Wonwoo is silent and lets you continue to cling onto him as he walks you to where he had parked on the side of the street, directly under a streetlight.

You slide into the passenger seat. Wonwoo hands you a bottle of water, cap already removed for you. “Hydrate,” he orders.

“Sorry,” you whimper, somewhat pathetically.

He frowns. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I must be so annoying,” you mumble, feeling tears welling up in your eyes.

“No,” Wonwoo reaches out and takes your hand over the center console. “You’re not annoying.”

You watch him as he drives. He’s so handsome, your alcohol-addled mind supplies.

“You don’t think I’m annoying?”

“Never.”

Wonwoo says it like a promise.

Silence falls over the two of you as he drives through campus, all the way back to the student housing unit that both of you live in. He turns off the engine, leaving a silence that feels even more all-encompassing. He looks over at you, face half hidden in the shadows and half illuminated by the orange lamplight outside. “Is Minghao home?”

“N…no, he’s back at the party.”

“Okay, we’re going back to my apartment, then,” he decides.

You blink. “Huh?” But you’re already stumbling out of his car and spilling onto the sidewalk, all wobbly legs and loose limbs.

“I’m taking you back to my place,” Wonwoo repeats. “You need someone to watch you and make sure you don’t wander off and get lost in the city,” he explains drily.

“‘M okay,” you whine futilely. It’s especially unconvincing, since you’re still stumbling over your own feet and leaning against him.

Wonwoo lets you rest your cheek on his shoulder and cling onto him as he lets you into his apartment, gets you a glass of water, and digs up a pack of makeup wipes from out of nowhere and sits you on his bed and starts to get to work.

A small (very drunk) part of you bristles at the appearance of the makeup wipes, and you try to scowl, even as Wonwoo gently wipes at your smudged eyeliner. “Whose are these? Do you have a lot of girls over here or something?”

“They’re Junhui’s, he uses them,” Wonwoo explains. He dabs at one last spot in the corner of your right eye, then announces, “there, you’re all done.”

You open your eyes to see Wonwoo grinning dopily at you. “You’re cute,” you poke at his cheek, and he laughs quietly. Seokmin used to be afraid of him, he had confessed to you, and you wonder why, because the Wonwoo you know is so soft, so loveable, so goofy and cute.

“Wonwoo,” you blurt out without thinking, “I’m in love with you.”

His breath catches. Wonwoo pauses, digesting your clumsily delivered confession, and then he makes the most awful expression you have ever seen on him.

“Really,” you insist. You reach out to grab his hand, but he pulls away from you. “It’s true. I’m in love with you.”

You hear a sharp intake of breath. “You’re not,” he says. “You’re in love with Mingyu. You’re happy with him.”

“I’m not… I’m not in love with him,” you try to explain, but your liquor-numbed lips are clumsy and you trip over your words. You lean towards him, slanting your face up, because you want to kiss him so badly it’s all you can think of. Wonwoo shoves you back, hard.

“Don’t,” he bites, voice sharp and tense.

“I’m in love with you,” you repeat, reaching out to him, but he pushes your hand back and steps away. Like he’s afraid of you.

“Don’t do it. You’re drunk.” His voice wavers slightly. “Don’t do something you’ll regret tomorrow.”

You shake your head, but Wonwoo looks at you with so much hurt and confusion in his eyes, you can’t bring yourself to argue. “Wonu,” you whisper, reaching out to rest your fingertips on his wrist, “please don’t cry.”

He takes a long, shuddering breath, eyes closed, and then when he exhales and opens his eyes again, his expression is impassive. Unreadable.

“Go to sleep,” he says flatly. “Tomorrow you’ll wake up and go back to your boyfriend, and you’ll be happy that nothing happened tonight.”

He closes the door to his bedroom, leaving you in the darkness.

(Wonwoo is cold.

He’s always a little cold, but in his haste to escape earlier, he hadn’t gotten a blanket or even changed into sweats before closing the door behind him, and now Wonwoo lays on the couch, his feet hanging over the armrest, staring at the ceiling.

I’m in love with you, your voice rings in his head. Wonwoo’s cheek still burns where you had gently rested your hand earlier. If he hadn’t known any better, Wonwoo might have believed you and given in to his most guilty, far-off fantasy, the one where you love him back.

But Wonwoo does know better. He saw the way you were draped all over Mingyu at the party, the way you giggled into his neck when Mingyu slipped his fingertips under the him of your shirt. Mingyu is good for you, Wonwoo decides. Like you, Mingyu is bright and out-going, popular, well-liked, good at receiving love and gives it readily in return.

Wonwoo closes his eyes, tries to push away the memory of your body curled into his, and wills his mind into silence so that maybe he can get some sleep tonight.)

You wake up, nauseous and hung over and feeling not at all rested, in Wonwoo’s bed.

Groaning, you swipe at your face, expecting to see a gloopy mess on your fingers, but your makeup has already been removed. You squint at the dim sunlight streaming in through the closed blinds, and you reach around blindly until your fingers close around your phone.

There’s a smattering of random social media notifications and updates from group chats, but one notification in particular catches your eye.

wonu: i’m outside wonu: where are you? are you ok? wonu: i’m gonna head inside to look for you

You feel your cheeks flush as the memories come trickling back– your drunk texts, insisting that your best friend picks you up, kissing Mingyu, leaving the party with Wonwoo, clinging on to him like a koala…

Gathering your courage and steeling your woozy stomach, you stumble out of bed and throw open the door, poking your head out. Wonwoo is sprawled across the couch, undoubtedly playing some kind of mobile game, when he looks up at you. His hair is sticking up in every possible direction and his shirt is crumpled. “Hi,” he says, expression impossibly neutral.

“Hi,” you grin, waving lamely. “I feel like shit. I didn’t say anything weird or embarrassing last night, did I?”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “You don’t remember?”

You shake your head. “I remember you picking me up from the frat, I think.”

For a split second, he looks relieved. Then, he puts his phone down and laughs at you. “You didn’t do anything embarrassing,” he grins, “except for abandoning your boyfriend at the party because you wanted to play Overwatch with me. C’mon, do you want to get brunch?”

You press your palms against your throbbing forehead. Your brain hurts, and you’re almost sure you half-remember telling Wonwoo that you’re in love with him, but Wonwoo is looking at you expectantly and you’d like nothing more than some french toast and a hot coffee right now, so you shrug. “Sure, lemme wash up and get changed in my apartment first.”

“Dear Cherry, my friend is hopelessly in love with his childhood best friend, who is currently dating a hot frat dude. Should he just give up? The moping is starting to bum me out and I’m worried my hair is going to fall out. Love, Wen Junhui.”

You wrinkle your nose at the message. “And has anybody ever told Junhui that the whole point of anonymous submissions is defeated when he signs his messages with his full name?”

Minghao looks up from the canvas he’s busy splattering paint on. It’s his semester final project, and you had promised to accompany him in the basement of the fine arts building as he works.

Instead of answering, he looks at you like you’re the densest human he’s ever had the misfortune of meeting. “Maybe he’s not trying to be anonymous. Maybe he’s trying to complain about someone we know.”

You squint at your laptop screen. “Who is this supposed to be about, anyways?”

This time, Minghao actually rolls his eyes at you. “Whatever. Have you broken up with Mingyu yet?”

“Yeah, we broke up two days ago. It was mutual, because Mingyu was genuinely afraid that Jeonghan would kick his ass if we said we broke up with me.”

The two of you had made a whole show of deleting all your carefully staged couple photos off your social media accounts, and then unfollowing and refollowing each other within the span of two days, because as the story goes, you and Mingyu had talked it over and are better as friends than as a couple.

“That’s nice,” Minghao says. He unscrews a jar of turpentine and starts to clean off his brushes. “Maybe you should respond to Junhui’s advice submission.”

You groan. “I’ll just tell him to tell his friend to get over it,” you scowl.

“By the way, what’s wrong with Wonwoo?”

“What do you mean?” You look up. Minghao is now attacking the canvas with a palette knife, carving some dramatic impasto into the paint.

“The last two times all of us hung out together, he’s been all…weird.” Minghao wrinkles his nose. “It’s like he’s some kind of guilty dog. He stares at you when you’re not looking, and then he looks away when you are.”

You chew on your lip, work now long forgotten on your idle laptop. Minghao is right. Wonwoo has been different, but not… different. He’s as unwaveringly weird as always, and he’s been texting you links to youtube cat videos and starting arguments on video game theories as always, but it feels like Wonwoo has been aggressively normal. Like how best friends are supposed to be. Light and easy.

“I don’t know. I feel like he’s been acting weird these days too, but I can’t figure out how.”

“You should talk to him,” Minghao says, like talking to Wonwoo about his feelings is easy or something. Or like talking about your own feelings is easy.

“Or maybe I shouldn’t,” you sigh. Whatever is going on with Wonwoo, you’re just glad he still wants to hang out with you. You’re not entirely sure what you even did wrong, but you’d be willing to beg on your hands and knees for him to forgive you and to stick by your side. “Whatever. We’re gaming together this Friday, I’ll think about it then, I guess.”

“Wonu, I’m scared,” you whine into the mic. It’s another Friday night and the two of you are playing PUBG again. You’re in the endgame now– the original 100 has been whittled down to just 5 players remaining, including you but not including Wonwoo, who had been killed earlier and is now spectating you in-game like some sort of ghost.

“Just sit tight,” he instructs. In your mind’s eye, he’s leaning back in his gaming chair, arms crossed as he observes your gameplay.

“There’s gunshots,” you complain, “North? I think they’re hiding by those rocks. It sounds like they’ve got a good sniper rifle, too.”

“They don’t know you’re there. Just let the other teams fight it out. You have enough ammo?”

You huff. “I have like, twelve shotgun shells.”

“And you have the location advantage. Just sit and wait for now.”

You sigh, aimlessly panning the camera back and forth in your anxiety. “Fine,” you agree, because despite it all, Wonwoo is still better at this game than you are, and because you trust him.

Seconds pass. The audio of distant gunfire in crisp surround sound keeps you on edge and tense, so that when you hear Soonyoung, one of Wonwoo’s roommates, you nearly jump out of your skin.

“Hey, are you busy?”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo replies. His voice is tinny and quiet, but still clear, like he’s slipped his headset off and mic is pushed away. “I’m gaming with Y/N. I’m muted, don’t worry.”

You’re about to shout and let him know that he’s not actually muted, but your curiosity gets the better of you when you hear Soonyoung’s next words:

“Right, speaking of Y/N, that reminds me. Did you hear that Y/N and Mingyu broke up?”

“Oh.” There’s a pause, and then you hear Wonwoo ask, “why?”

“Dunno. Mingyu wouldn’t give me any details. He said something lame, like that they’re better off as friends, or something.”

“Oh. When did this happen?”

“I think on Wednesday? At least that’s what Seungkwan told me.”

“Hm.”

“Anyways, isn’t that great? You can finally shoot your shot!”

“Are you insane, Soonyoung? It’s been less than a week!”

“Well, okay, fair. But next week? She didn’t seem too sad about it in class today.”

“That’s because she was in class. And anyways, this doesn’t change anything between us, so I’m not going to do anything either.”

“Are you kidding me? So you’re just going to keep it a secret forever?”

“Yeah. I’ll die before I tell Y/N that I’m in love with her.”

Oh.

You sit at your desk, staring at your monitor but not seeing anything. Very quietly, you press your fingers against your lips, as hard as you can, and feel the blood rushing past your ears.

“I’m not going to ruin our friendship over nothing,” Wonwoo continues.

“It’s not nothing,” Soonyoung replies with a pout in his voice. “You’ve been in love with her for years. Since high school, at least.”

“She just sees me as a friend, that’s all,” Wonwoo sighs.

Since high school. He’s loved you since high school.

You remember the way he looked at you after prom when he was dropping you back off at home. You had gone with him because the boy you wanted to ask you, some boring soccer player, had asked your friend instead, and Jaehyun had already asked (and been rejected by you) twice, and nobody else had asked you to be their prom date. And Wonwoo, awkward and quiet as he was, had fully expected to skip prom completely, but three days before you had shown up at his locker after school, desperate because you already had a dress and a group to go with and tickets but no date, practically begging him to go to prom with you. And without even thinking, Wonwoo had agreed.

That night, when he drive you home, you leaned your head against the car door with the windows rolled down and felt the wind on your face. At the end, when he parked his car on the side of the street in front of your childhood home, you looked over at him and told him. “I’m so glad we’re going to college together, Wonwoo. I want to be with you forever.”

And he had watched you as you said it, quiet, like he was breathless. Like you had said something terrible and incredible at the same time.

The weight of it is heavy, settling in your stomach like a hot stone. It almost hurts, how much you feel.

You’re interrupted by a very loud spate of gunfire piercing your eardrums and making you jump, shrieking loudly as you’re killed in-game. Onscreen, your bloodied character rolls limply down the hill as “Better luck next time! #2/48” flashes on top of your game stats.

“Aw, second place, so close,” you hear Wonwoo say. Then he pauses. “Wait. Was I not muted just now?”

“Wonwoo, I’m going downstairs,” you tell him.

“Wait–” his voice is tight and panicked, but you’re already tugging your headset off and grabbing your keys.

You nearly avoid tripping over your feet as you run to the stairwell at the end of the hall and fly down the two flights of stairs, to where Wonwoo is. By the time you’re banging at their door, you’re out of breath and flushed. You’re not sure if the pounding of your heart is from the exertion or if it’s from something else. Anxiety, maybe. Fear. Exhilaration.

Wonwoo answers the door. He looks exactly like you’d expect, with his rumpled tee shirt and sweatpants and bare feet, his glasses on and his bangs pushed back with the bunny shower headband you bought for him last year.

“Hi,” you grin breathlessly at him.

“Hi,” he replies.

“Can I come in?”

He takes a deep breath, like he’s steeling his nerves. “Yeah.” He opens the door wider and steps aside to let you in, and you follow Wonwoo to his room.

It’s dimly lit with the rainbow glow of his gaming setup and the ready screen for PUBG still up on one of his monitors. Wonwoo flicks on the overhead light, which throws the room into sharp relief. The sudden brightness makes everything feel more real, somehow.

You sit on the edge of Wonwoo’s bed and pat the spot net to you, which he takes. “Wonwoo,” you say.

Wonwoo purses his lips. “How much of that did you hear earlier?”

“All of it,” you chew the inside of your cheek, drumming your fingers against the bedspread.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “You can pretend I didn’t say any of that.”

“Did you mean it?”

“Huh?” He stares at you with wide eyes.

“What you said earlier.” You pick at a loose thread poking from the hem of your shirt. “Did you mean it when you said you’re in love with me?”

He hesitates, frowning as a conflicted expression briefly flashes across his face, eyebrows drawing together.

“Wonwoo?” You call his name gently to get his attention. “I’m in love with you too, Wonwoo.”

“I–what?” Wonwoo looks at you like you’ve brown another head. “But, you... Mingyu?”

You furrow your brows at him. “Mingyu? Didn’t I tell you? We were just faking so he could win that Greek God competition and get free parking next semester.”

“Wait,” he sputters, “so all of that was fake? You were just pretending to be in a relationship?”

“Yeah. I don’t care about Mingyu, I have feelings for you, Wonwoo.”

“You.” Wonwoo takes a deep breath. “You didn’t tell me.”

“I did!” You widen your eyes, adamant. “At karaoke back in October. You, me, Minghao, and Junhui?” It had been after a particularly grueling set of midterms, and the four of you had gone out for some korean barbeque, followed by boba and an extended noraebang session. While Junhui was crooning to an old Cantonese ballad, you were squished on a couch with Minghao and Wonwoo, and the three of you were talking idly about Junhui’s most recent date.

It’s funny, you remember turning and mumbling to Wonwoo, did I ever tell you that Mingyu and I are faking our whole relationship for clout? But Wonwoo hadn’t responded, so you assumed that he didn’t care. Now, it’s looking more like he didn’t even hear you.

“I was asleep,” Wonwoo states in flat disbelief.

“You were asleep,” you repeat slowly.

“It was dark and I was tired. You didn’t notice that I passed out as soon as we dimmed the lights?” He raises his eyebrows as he defends himself, and you bury your face in your hands.

Click. The pieces are all falling in place.

“Wonwoo. I’m so dumb,” you moan. “I run the Ask Cherry column. All those messages from Junhui and Soonyoung. They were about you, weren’t they?”

“Messages? There were more after the first one?!”

“And they were about you being in love with me,” you recall. “This whole time, I thought you liked someone else. Someone who isn’t me.”

There’s a pause. You can hear the sound of Wonwoo’s PC whirring in the background. And then, Wonwoo starts laughing, choked and quiet at first, and then loud, incredulous, almost.

“God,” he gasps between laughs, “we’re both so, so stupid.” And then you’re laughing too.

In retrospect, it’s all ridiculous, this entire situation. You collapse back onto Wonwoo’s bed and laugh until your ribs hurt, and when you turn your head to the side, there’s Wonwoo laying beside you, glasses askew, grinning.

You giggle and reach out to straighten his glasses. “Hi,” you say to him.

“Hi,” he says back, getting up to lean on one elbow. “I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

You feel your smile widen so much, your cheeks hurt. “I’m in love with you, Jeon Wonwoo.”

He looks at you with so much fondness, it takes your breath away. It’s the way he’s always looked at you, you realize, since the two of you weren’t much more than a pair of kids.

“So, now what?”

“Hmm.” You pretend to think. “Can you kiss me about it, then?”

Wonwoo nods, and his hair flops over the bunny headband as he moves his head. “Yeah,” he says, “I think I can do that.”

(Afterwards, a lot less changes with your relationship with Wonwoo than you thought. After all, he was your best friend for much, much longer than he’s been your boyfriend. He still sends you cat videos at strange hours of the night, and he still sticks sullenly by your side during social outings. Friday nights are still game nights, of course, but now it’s mostly spent on your shared Stardew Valley co-op or cuddling in bed while playing Pokemon together.

But one thing that changes is the kisses. You kiss Wonwoo whenever you can, because you have so much love to give him and not enough time in the day to tell him all the ways you love him. You try, though, to tell him every moment you can that he’s the cutest, smartest, sweetest, kindest, funniest boy in the world, and that he’s the best friend and boyfriend you could ever ask for.

Wonwoo has a harder time with his feelings, but you know, even without saying. It’s in the way that his fingers linger over your hand when he drops you off in front of your classroom, and the way he gives you first pick on all the best loot when you’re gaming together. And when it’s really late at night and the two of you are huddled under the blankets together, listening to the way your heartbeats collide, he whispers it too. “I love you.”

And, Minghao finally admits it. “Fine,” he grumbles reluctantly while the two of you are preparing the upcoming edition of Ask Cherry, “maybe you’re qualified to give love advice after all.”)

#wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #svt #*fic #hi jackie!#jackie! ☁️#asdkjfhfh i dont think i can properly show how much i love this fic #and how much i appreciate u #but hopefully this comes close #i hope 2023 treats you well #and i hope we get to know each other better too <3 #i apologize in advance if some of this doesnt make sense #im finishing this while watching smcu palace lol #also i think i come off a bit insane in some parts of this...

2K notes · View notes

suksatoru · 2 months ago

Text

𝙡𝙪𝙡𝙡 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙢.

synopsis; dabi finds you awake late at night - and he's determined to know what's keeping you from sleeping.

pairing dabi x reader. ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ⛆ ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ

a/n; thought about u while writing this babes lol @michellexgriffey <3

There was a thunderstorm. Hard and fast - the falling rain showered down relentlessly over Japan. It didn't help that the League's hideout wasn't exactly a secure location this time around - you were all crashing at yet another abandoned site, one that took a single kick from Dabi to break the door and enter into.

You flinch at a particularly loud clap of thunder, wrapping your arms closer around yourself as you lower your head and squeeze your eyes shut - awaiting the next, dreaded lightening strike.

You had tried not to mention it - your terrible fear of thunder storms, to the League. It was such a childish thing to be afraid of, and you furiously wipe the tears threatening to spill as you take a steadying breath.

The worn out couch soothed your senses just the slightest bit. The dark leather was plush underneath you, and you can only sigh sadly as you sink further into the cushions

Hopefully the storm won't go on for long - you know that you won't be able to fall asleep until it has ended or at least calmed down a bit. You might just sleep down here in the common area for the rest of the night, there was no telling when this awful storm would come to a much needed finish.

Dabi watched you from the doorway, tilting his head with furrowed brows as he watched you curl in on yourself, eyes closed as you gently rocked back and forth -

"What the hell are you doing?"

Your eyes snap open - and he can see just how startled you are by the way you quickly unfold your legs from under you, turning to him with a wince

"Huh?" You croak, embarrassment evident in your flushed cheeks as he finally strolls into the room with relaxed strides. He was by your side within moments, dropping himself into the empty spot on the couch next to you as he rests his head against the cushions, turning to look at you

"You heard me. What are you doing up at this hour? Ya look pretty stupid rockin' back and forth like that." He says with a sharp grin, bright eyes practically burning into your soul as you try not to shudder

"I could ask you the same thing - weren't you complaining about how tired you were during yesterday's mission?" You recall, swinging your legs under you comfortably as he scoffs

"Yea, so what. Can't sleep anymore." He mumbles, shutting his eyes with a sigh as you turn to look at the clock - then back to him

It was 3 AM. While you were clad in a pair of pajamas and fuzzy slippers, Dabi sat on the couch next to you clad in full gear - which was his usual attire when he went out, not even his combat boots had been removed.

You realize how silly you must look to him with your pink pajama's, happy little kittens plastered all over the fluffy fabric.

"Do you have any pajama's?" You ask, gently tracing a small cat's face on your knee - the fabric of your clothes underneath you was soft as your finger pads pressed against it

"That's a dumb question - 'course I do. I can see you most definitely do." He says, smirking as he tugs gently on the hem of your shirt - you lean forward from the action, his face mere inches from yours as you blink away your surprise from the close proximity

"Yes, but - why aren't you wearing them?" You question, and Dabi has to stop himself from smiling when you tilt your head so adorably at him in confusion

"Do you know how much shit I had to do, huh? Didn't even have time to get ready to sleep." He says with a huff, rolling his eyes before they shine with realization as he suddenly turns towards you with narrowed brows

"Now you didn't tell me why you're awake, y/n." He says, and you can only swallow the lump in your throat as he moves his face even closer to yours - you were afraid to move, even the smallest shift of your face would make his nose bump against yours

"I told you." You whisper, and he leans closer with his smirk only growing wider as you grip the couch beneath you

"I can't fall asleep eith-"

BOOM.

You reel back with a strangled gasp, hands moving to cover your ears as you squeeze your eyes shut - your hands tremble as lighting strike after strike rolls through the sky - practically shaking the structure of the hide out as you let out a distressed cry

Stop stop stop - please stop.

You remain that way for a few moments, forgetting completely about the man in front of you as your eyes remained close and focused entirely on the snapping thunder outside -

After a few beats of silence, you open your eyes and slowly remove your hands from your ears - letting out a quiet yet relieved sigh as the lightening quieted. You eyes move up and -

Oh.

Dabi stares at you silently, his usual stoic expression replaced with something softer as he raises a brow

Sighing in embarrassment, you rub the back of your neck - knowing how visible the blush on your cheeks must be with how hot your face felt

"I'm afraid of thunderstorms." You say quietly, eyes downcast as you waited for Dabi to poke and tease you - laugh at how pathetic you were. You expected nothing more from the heartless villain you called your comrade.

He doesn't say anything - he just keeps looking. Watching you with this blank stare - but - somethings different. Maybe it was his lips, which weren't pulled into their usual frown. They remained relaxed now as he watched you. Or maybe it was his hands - fists that were usually balled up at his sides remained slack in his lap as he finally spoke

"And that's why you can't sleep?"

You blink at his response, unsure with where he was going with this. He always has such an interesting way with words.

"I guess. It's stupid - I know." You confess, eyes moving to just about anywhere that wasn't Dabi's eyes - or the expanse of his chest that was visible under his tattered shirt.

He's quiet for a bit, but his eyes never leave you. You shrink under his gaze - gosh, why did he have to be so intense about everything?

Finally, he stands up. He moves to stand in front of you - long lanky legs are the only thing you see until you crane your neck up to look at him. He peers right back down at you - moonlight from the window shining on his piercings as he stares down with those eyes. He was devastatingly beautiful - and you didn't want to accept how those eyes seemed to follow you everywhere. You swore they were always on you - his piercing gaze always seemed to eventually trail back to you.

"Get up." He rasps - his tone held authority showing you there was no questioning his demand. His scarred hand was outstretched towards you - and you blink up at him before carefully placing your hand in his palm - one that was much bigger than yours, and he easily curled his fingers around your hand as he tugged you up.

You follow behind him as he wordlessly begins walking, his hand held a firm grip over yours as he maneuvered through the hallway - walking up the short staircase until he stopped in front of his room

His free hand twisted the door knob - and he enters the room and tugs you inside -

Your heart is beating faster and faster, the blood rushing to your head when you watch him kick his shoes off, and then, tug off his shirt.

You freeze at the sight of him shirtless - the skin thats kept hidden under layers of clothing are on full display for you as his muscles ripple while he tosses his shirt onto the floor somewhere

He turns to you with a small smirk on his lips when he catches you staring at him with parted lips - he leans against the bed frame while merely tilting his head towards the bed

"Get in."

Your eyes widen as you realize what he was saying - what he was offering.

"Dabi - "

"I'll only ask once. It's your choice - you can go back to your room if you want. Or you can sleep here, so choose."

Your heart is beating so very fast - and your clench and unclench your hands as you swallow the lump in your throat. He extends his arm towards the small lamp at his bedside - blue blames shooting from his fingertips as he lights it

"I can have a fire going for you if you want some light. Where else are you going to get such service, sweetheart?" He cackles - his laughter causing your shoulders to fall just the slightest bit. It was so rare to hear him laugh - you only ever did hear the sound when Shigaraki was scolding him or if he was watching someone hurt themselves - like slipping down the stairs - he seemed to find those type of things amusing.

But this laughter was different - something rough around the edges, but genuine pleasure in his voice as you looked towards him silently. The flame villain you had known was being soft - like the fire inside him managed to melt a bit of his frozen heart.

"Really?" You ask breathlessly, and the sound of your voice has Dabi's eyes darkening

"Come here." He mutters, remembering the panic in your eyes during the thunder earlier - he pulls you with a single hand pressed onto your hip, gently pushing you onto the bed as you fall on top of the crumpled sheets

He moves between your legs, placing both of his arms on the bed as he nudges you with his knee - gesturing you to move

You push over quickly, kicking off your slippers as they fall somewhere on the floor

He yanks the blanket off, and the cold air rushes to you almost immediately. He's laying beside you within a minute, throwing the blanket back over your bodies as he lets out a relaxed sigh

"I'm suddenly feeling very tired." He announces, crossing his arms over his chest as he quickly presses his eyes shut

You snuggle your head further into the pillow - his lingering scent strong and consuming your senses as you let out a hum of appreciation

"Ok. Goodnight." You whisper, a smile on your face as you tighten the warm blanket around you

"Yea yea, go to sleep." He mumbles with a sigh

The rain fell quietly outside the window, the gentle pitter patter and Dabi's reassuring breathing was the thing to lull you to sleep.

Dabi woke up the next morning with a weight on top of his chest - it takes him less then a second to realize it's you, clinging to him so tightly, like your life depended on it.

Your head is curled up against his naked chest, and you seem to still be in a deep sleep as you lay there - he can feel your bare legs wrapped around his torso, and he lets out a huff of laughter, shaking his head in disbelief

He doesn't move you. Instead, he positions you so your entire body was on top of him, and he wraps his arms around you to keep you secure on top of him.

Let's just say you are very confused when you wake up on top of a snoring Dabi - who had his arms lazily draped over you as he slept soundly.

614 notes · View notes

cheolhub · 1 year ago

Text

WHAT YOU NEED — JEON WONWOO ࿐

summary. wonwoo knows how shy you get telling him what you want, but he’ll get you to use your words one way or another.

wc. 2.5k

warnings. mean-ish soft dom!wonwoo, sub! reader, corruption kink + slight humiliation kink! lots of teasing from wonwoo, lots of begging from reader, pet names [love, baby, sweet girl], dirty talk [😵‍💫], possessiveness (reader is so into it), heavy praise, unprotected sex, creampie — MINORS DNI 18+

note. it’s been months… hellooo… i forgot how to write so forgive me for the shitty plot lol. this is me attempting to get back into the writing world 🤓 hopefully ONE of u enjoys this <3 p.s. i’m srsly in my wonu era

“remember what i said, love,” wonwoo murmured, soft lips pressed against the shell of your ear. “if you want something, you gotta use your words.”

you hated this– everything about this– the teasing, the deep timbre of his voice that shoots heat straight to your core, him in general. he’s well aware of the fact that you can’t stand it at this moment, but that doesn’t put an end to his teasing.

your back arches off his chest as you feel the ghost of his fingers over your painfully wet cunt, covered in a pair of cotton panties. “wonwoo…” you whine, eyes brimming with tears of frustration. “please…”

he merely chuckles, pressing a kiss to the skin under your ear. “please what?”

when you and wonwoo started dating, you were so shy. so shy and so, so sweet. you’d never been with anyone before him, and of course he felt bad that he was the one to rob you of your innocence, but he was filled with a sense of pride (and urgency) when he’d found out he was the one to corrupt you and ruin you for everyone else.

and he was gentle. yes, jeon wonwoo was so, very gentle, handling you like a pretty doll while coaxing orgasms out of you left and right with his hands and mouth till your body was slack and you were nothing but a puddle of tears. he got you ready for his cock and you took it well. then you took it again. and again. and again, till you and him both knew you were his and he was yours.

it got to the point where you’d crave him at the most inconvenient times. while you were running errands, at work, at dinner with your friends– it was almost insufferable.

but he always took care of you. all you had to do was ask and he’d be there at your beck and call with whatever you wanted, whether it was with his mouth, fingers or cock.

he always makes you ask because wonwoo’s taken a certain… liking… to making you say the filthiest things. he knows it makes you nervous, but that’s why he thinks he loves it. he loves your stammering and how he can feel the heat radiating from your body. it’s cute.

which is why you’re in your current predicament, sat between his legs, your own spread over his with your back pressed to his chest after sending an innocent ‘come over, please? <3’ text.

“don’t make me say it, won… it’s…it’s unbecoming. just… please.”

usually, he’s not so adamant on getting you to say exactly what you want. all you had to do was say please, and he was all yours.

but no, not today apparently.

“there’s nothing unbecoming about it, my love.” he noses at your neck, his breath fanning over your racing pulse and eliciting your soft shudder. “just tell me what you invited me over for and i’ll give it to you.”

“please… touch me.” you whisper, heat creeping from where his lips are on your to neck all the way up to the tips of your ears.

you can feel his shit-eating grin and you want to scream at him, but your need for him is much more profound than your desire to slap him in the face for teasing you to this extent.

his hands rub up and down your arms and you hear his smile when he asks, “like this?”

you groan, shaking your head, “you know what i mean!”

“i don’t know what you mean, actually. can you dumb it down for me?”

you mentally curse him out, but you try to steady your breathing before you speak again. “touch me… down… there.” you attempt to say, but it comes out as more of a squeak.

wonwoo’s uncharacteristically large hands find your tummy and you want to sob when he asks, “here?” you shake your head. “words.” the demand vibrates through you and you let you an embarrassing whimper.

“lower,” you whisper, unable to trust your voice. “please, wonwoo.”

he runs his fingers down your abdomen and trails them down your thighs. you can’t help the cry that leaves your mouth. “mean. you’re so mean.”

“you can say it, sweet girl.” he whispers. “it’s not unbecoming. it’s not inappropriate. it’s fucking hot. i want you to tell me exactly what you want and i swear to god i’ll give it to you.”

you sniffle, frustrated and slightly embarrassed, but you stutter out in the softest voice he’s ever heard you use, “please touch my pussy, wonwoo.”

you think it feels awkward and gross coming out of your mouth with your voice, but wonwoo… wonwoo groans, hand immediately slipping into your panties. “good fucking girl.” he grumbles as his fingers find your clit.

you jolt at the contact but melt into him just as quickly. “fuck,” you whimper, thankful that you’re finally receiving the touch you’ve been craving for the past half hour. “f-faster, please.”

wonwoo’s chest swells with that familiar sense of pride again as he hears your beg. he obliges, the rough pads of his fingers circling the swollen, pleading bud. “you’re so fucking wet…”

you moan, head falling back on his shoulder. your face burns like never before as you get out, “f-for… you. ‘m wet for you.”

wonwoo isn’t always vocal, but when he is? he’s loud. so the moan that slips from his mouth startles you a bit.

“that’s right, all for me.” he grunts, possessiveness lacing his voice causing the jostling of butterflies in your tummy. “all fucking mine, forever mine.”

you change your mind at this– you love the teasing, the deep timbre of his voice, him especially.

“always yours.” you nod vigorously, body writhing as he quickens the movement of his fingers.

wonwoo doesn’t have much self-control when it comes to you, so it’s taking everything in him to not flip you over and fuck you till all you can say is yours, yours, always yours. instead, he opts for trying to get more out of your pretty mouth. “how do you feel, baby? tell me how much you like my fingers playing with this pretty little cunt.”

it’s so filthy, but you can’t help but arch your back at the sound of his words. “love them s’much, wonwoo. feels s’good.”

he’s sure you do feel good, he’s a skilled man after all, but he knows you probably need more.

“yeah?” he responds breathily, cock aching at the validation and how pretty you sound saying his name. “this enough to make you cum, or do you want more?”

your brain fogs over at the thought of more. you can nearly taste ecstasy on the tip of your tongue and you don’t doubt that you could get off with just his fingers, yet… the idea of being filled to the brim with his fingers or his cock is much more compelling.

“more.” you breathe in reply.

“what was that?” he teases, fingers slowing down.

there’s that wicked sense of humor that makes you want to slap him across the face.

you barred your teeth before gritting, “fuck me, please. i need more. i need you, wonwoo.”

his ministrations stop and before you get the chance to complain, he’s rolling your panties down your legs and guiding you to straddle his abdomen. he slips his sweats down enough for his cock to come out and, even though you can’t see it, you can feel its looming presence.

“take what’s yours, baby.” he stares up at you while you stare back, eyes wide.

“y-you… you want me to…?” he knows what your unfinished question translates to and he nods and gives you a lazy smile even though you can see the burning desire in his blown out pupils.

you let out a short breath and nod, more to yourself than anything. he’s never let you have control while you’re on top, but you feel giddy that he’s giving you a chance now. you lift your hips up and take a hold of his hardened length in your hands. you run the blushy tip of his cock through your folds, eliciting a hiss from the man under you, before finally sliding down his cock. slowly, you feel every inch of him invade your pussy and it’s so good, despite the slight burn.

you forget how tight the fit is every time. even with how wet you are, you still feel your walls stretching to accommodate his size.

you cry softly, body going limp as you finally hit the base of his cock. “won…”

“you feel so good,” he moans softly, hands finding purchase on your hips. “are you alright? does it hurt?” he manages to ask, cock twitching at the way your walls wrap around him.

you shake your head incessantly, hoping he doesn’t worry too much. “no– no, ‘m okay. j-just need to adjust.”

wonwoo nods empathetically, rubbing soothing circles into your skin to ease you. “you’re doing so well.” he whispers after a minute of silence, the only sounds being your ragged breaths and the soft hum of the air conditioning. “gonna make sure you feel so good, baby.”

you feel the heat reappear and a gush of arousal leak at the praise in his hushed voice. it inspires you to take action.

you press your palms to his clothed abdomen, wishing he’d taken off his shirt so you can feel his skin, but you can’t be bothered to ask him to do so now. you lift your hips up his cock before letting yourself drop, a moan tumbling out of your mouth when you feel how deep he is inside you.

you repeat the sloppy movements, stangled moans slipping with every sharp thrust as you spear yourself on his length over and over.

it’s not till wonwoo guides you with the tight grip of his hands on your waist that you find a steady tempo, the sound of skin on skin growing louder with the mixed sounds of his grunts and your mewls.

you slip your hands under his shirt, craving the closeness, and lightly run your nails down the skin. you feel him contract under the contact and you can’t stop the way your walls tighten around him when his hands squeeze you harder.

the longer you ride him, the more your thighs burn. it eventually causes your speed to falter and wonwoo, ever the observer, is quick to notice. he decides you’ve had enough and bucks his hips into you, meeting you halfway while groaning out your name.

the bulbous head of his cock rams into your sweet, special spot as he takes over and you throw your head back in utmost pleasure. tears spring to your eyes and wonwoo finds this to be the most beautiful sight he’s ever laid his eyes on. your tits bouncing with every push, your mouth cracked open as the prettiest sounds leave it, the way your eyebrows knit in pleasure– he makes a mental note to bring his camera next time you invite him over.

“tell me what you need, love.” he demands yet again, words breathy and clipped as his cock throbs in between your velvet walls. “tell me what this pretty pussy needs and i’ll fucking give it to you.” his sentence ends in a growl when your nails bite into his bare skin, leaving red, crescent shapes in their wake.

you let out a choked sob, “w-wonu–”

he sits up, using his strength to bounce you up and down at a leisure pace– one that he knows does nothing for your needy body. “don’t get shy on me now, baby, you can tell me.” he coaxes, sultry voice circling your brain.

you swear if your body burns any hotter, you’ll explode.

your mouth opens to let out a plea, “p-please make me cum– please, i-i wanna–” your words are swallowed by him as he smashes his lips to yours. you moan his name into his mouth and he all but moans back into yours.

you involuntarily clench around him when he hastily bucks into you while also guiding your hips on his cock. when he pulls back, he sports swollen lips and lust-ridden eyes and it makes you all the more needy for your coveted release.

“rub your clit and get yourself off for me, yeah?” you pants before his mouth lands on one of your breasts, sucking and tugging at the peaked nipple.

you follow instructions, two of your fingers moving to circle the swollen bud and your free hand gripping his shoulder for more support.

at the onslaught of pleasure, the knot that’s been rapidly forming in your tummy all night tightens beyond belief and you know you’re on the precipice of an orgasm. wonwoo, being as perceptive as he is, just moans at the way you pulse uncontrollably around his cock.

if you’ve learned anything from the teasing and the rather humbling experience you’ve had tonight, it’s that you should definitely voice what you want.

and that’s exactly what you do.

“i– fuck, wonwoo. i need to cum, please let me.” you beg as you get closer and closer to your anticipated release.

he releases your nipple with a pop and nearly growls. “cum for me, baby.”

it’s all you need to hear before a silent scream leaves your lips and white, hot pleasure runs its course. your body goes taut as the tether in your belly snaps in half, cunt and body practically spasming all the while your brain spins erratically.

wonwoo is enthralled by the sight and feeling of you. the grip he has on you is near bruising as he watches you fall apart on him– feels you fall apart on him.

“so beautiful,” he praises, voice strained as he nears his own release. “my beautiful girl. you’re so fucking good for me, you know that?” he rambles, cock twitching as you let out more whines and whimpers.

“c-cum in me.” you demand, voice broken and hoarse from all the screaming. “i-i wanna feel it. i need to.”

an animalistic growl bubbles in the back of his throat and his slow pace and sweet praise disappears, replaced by an unforgiving speed at which he pounds into you. you’re back to broken moans as he lets out labored pants till, shortly after, he’s stills inside of you, cock nestled at your hilt and he’s releasing his warm load inside of your battered walls.

you collapse on top of him, savoring the feeling of his warmth inside of you.

“did i hurt you?” he whispers after a few minutes of unsteady breathing from the both of you.

you shake your head. “just my dignity,” you joke softly, resting your forehead against his. “i’m alright, don’t worry.”

he chuckles, cupping your cheek and running the pad of his thumb over the dried tear streaks, “i was a bit mean, huh?”

“so mean.” you tease, kissing the corner of his mouth. “you’re lucky i love you.”

“beyond lucky.”

taglist! @ficrecnctskz @bowmonde @jinxedmuse @rubyreduji @peachyaeger @roe-sinning @ollieollieoctopus @dunixxd @uwuheeseungie @limbomoon @wonuqrtz @onlyyjeonghan @hotchnrz @vikc

wanna join my taglist? click here!

#wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #svt smut

3K notes · View notes

hannieehaee · 6 months ago

Note

Congrats on your 5K! I’m not sure if anybody has requested this yet but I’m gonna ask for a classic. (If they have please ignore.)

Seventeen reactions with a virgin reader.

Have a nice day! :)

18+ / mdi

having a virgin s/o

content: established relationship implied, smut, mentions of penetrative sex, reader is a virgin, mentions of losing virginity, etc.

wc: 782

a/n: thank uuu so much!!! surprisingly no one has requested this lol

masterlist

seungcheol -

will only ever voice how much he likes that you're a virgin once you're actually losing your virginity to him lol. will have felt kind of nervous to make your first time perfect, but will be very happy after the fact, knowing he was the only one to ever have you like that.

jeonghan -

coos at you but also teases you over being a virgin, either attempting to patronize you over it (jokingly) or let you know how cute he finds that he's the only one you want in such a way. treats you like royalty when it comes down to actually losing your virginity, speaking to you in that soft voice and guiding you step by step.

joshua -

as charming as he is, i think he'd be super sweet to you about it, always letting you lead any sexual encounters so you could gauge how far you wanted to go. would be so soft and sensitive with you when he finally took your virginity (and wouldve looove the thought of teaching you any and every position).

jun -

for some reason he'd now feel nervous any time he was around you. would stop any makeout session or sexual encounter before it got too steamy bc he wouldnt want you to think he's trying to take advantage. would need you to spell it out for him if you wanted him to take your virginity, and even then he'd be super careful with you.

soonyoung -

finds it adorable more than anything. will tease you about it in a joking way but will honestly just find it cute that you'd retained your sexual innocence for so long. more than willing to guide you and teach you in any area you'd like (the thought turns him on).

wonwoo -

a little bit surprised but that's all. super respectful about it and wont be invasive in asking questions as to why you hadn't lost it. assumes it's a personal choice bc there's no way no one's tried to hit when you're as pretty and likable as you are. he'd be the best person to lose it to since he'd be so attentive and sensual about it (and super turned on but u dont need to know about that).

jihoon -

the moment you told him you were a virgin he'd be unable to think of anything else. on one side he'd feel immense pressure at the thought of taking your virginity (having assumed you were experienced already) and on the other, it'd turn him on to think that he'd be your one and only experience.

seokmin -

seems the type to see sex as an extremely intimate thing u only save for those u love so he'd be ecstatic to know u hadn't found that person yet. twice as ecstatic in realizing you saw him as the one person you loved and trusted enough to give your virginity to.

mingyu -

teases you about it a lot up until the point it turns out you want him to take it from you. will be super turned on by it but will try to hide it (and do a very bad job at it), not wanting to come off as a perv or anything. he'll fall in love with guiding and teaching you, heart (and dick) fed by the thought of being the only one to ever have you like this.

minghao -

feels a little guilty about how much he likes that you're a virgin, so he never outwardly expresses how badly it turns him on that he'll be your first (and hopefully your last).

seungkwan -

he thinks its adorable lol. might tease you about it a teeny tiny bit but not too much since he also thinks its cute how you're inexperienced in that area. prays to any external forces that you'll pick him to be the lucky guy to take your virginity (and is overwhelmed when you actually do want to lose it to him).

vernon -

very nonchalant about it. maybe a bit surprised since he finds you so attractive it makes no sense to him that no one would've already gotten on their knees and begged to have you in such a way. would be super sweet about it, though. maybe would calk you a virgin in a joking way lol.

chan -

he gives me the vibe of a romantic so i think he'd find it really cute and think its a 'meant to be' type of situation where he came along just at the right time to be able to be the one you gave your virginity to. would do the whole candles and rose petals on the bed the day you decided to finally do it.

#seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen #seventeen oneshot #svt #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt oneshot #svt scenarios #svt imagines #svt reactions #seventeen reactions

731 notes · View notes

1onelypoet · 10 months ago

Text

sweet tooth (for you) pt2 || lando norris smau

a/n: part 2 is doneeeee! thank u guys for all the reblogs n likes n comments, i love u all sm ❤️ it literally makes my day omg. anyways, idk if i'm losing it but this part feels shorter than part1 but who knows. also it does sorta jump around a bit in time so if ur confused abt the timeline n stuff hopefully the dates will help? 😭 part 3 will (hopefully) come before valentines day -- also i might do a vday special or smth idk -- but i'm trying for sooner 💪 i did not mean to write this much lol but anyways have an amazing day/night ❤️❤️

pairing: lando norris x singer! ex-leclerc! reader

fc: reneé rapp

warnings: cursing

taglist: @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @kapsylia, @i-wish-this-was-me

disclaimer: this is completely fictional. no hate meant towards anyone mentioned.

part one, part three, part four

charles_leclerc August 24

liked by scuderiaferrari, manonsworld, pierregasly and others

tagged arthur_leclerc, leclerc_pascale, joris__trouche, hugomicallef, riccardoberetta, guizou02, nico_noaro, thomascretot, traininginexcellencemc

charles_leclerc Fun times 🙃

view all comments

arthur_leclerc ❤️

user1 weird way to propose but okay!

user2 honey he's gonna cheat on u three years in 😔 ↳ user3 with ur friend too...

joris__trouche Con i ragazzi 🔥 trans: With the boys

user4 glad your summer break was fun 💕

user5 ummmm... anyways stream tummy hurts by y/n!

yourusername August 24

liked by leclerc_pascale, lilymhe, danielricciardo and others

tagged sethmyers

yourusername thanks for having me :)

view all comments

leclerc_pascale Belle ❤️

yourusername merci ❤️

user6 post break up glow is real

lilymhe cutie

yourusername no u ↳ lilymhe no, no u

yourbff mother.

user7 he fumbled a baddie fr 🔥🔥

f1gossip August 25

liked by manonsworld, user8, f1gossipgirl and others

tagged manonsworld, mlnmarta

f1gossip Manon spotted in the paddock today

view all comments

manonsworld ❤️❤️

user8 NAHHHH

user9 this is not the serve you think it is, babe...

user10 the dress 😍😍

user11 y/n did it better.

user12 she's really wasting no time

user13 no fr just popped out of nowhere

user14 who's that next to her?

user15 marta, the wife one one of charles's friends ↳ user14 ahhh okay ty

yourusername added to their story August 25

seen by landonorris, sabrinacarpenter, manonsworld and others

f1gossipgirl August 25

liked by f1gossip, user16, user17 and others

f1gossipgirl Charles and his girlfriend, Manon, were allegedly spotted by the paparazzi in Corsica on August 7th and 12th. However, some fans noticed that the photos taken on the 12th had a resemblance to a photo featured in Charles' annual summer break photo dump on Instagram.

Most, if not all, of the photos on Instagram were taken by Antoine Truchet (Charles' friend and a professional photographer who has shot with Charles many times in the past). We this as on August 21, Antoine posted a series of photos, with a caption saying "corsica with CL". Some of the photos posted here were also posted on Charles' Instagram, further confirming Antoine's presence on this trip. It can also be assumed Antoine took most, if not all, of these photos as he is not actually featured in any of the pictures, which is strange as he is quite close with Charles and his friends. This all makes sense when you assume that Antoine was the one taking all the photos. Also, the photos are clearly taken by a professional.

So now we've established that Antoine, a professional photographer, was there in Corsica, and he likely took all of the photos posted by Charles.

Going back to the photo that sparked recognition, it can be seen that in the picture Charles is wearing a white button-down shirt, and is sitting on a green-and-white striped beach chair. Similarly, in the photos taken by the paparazzi on the 12th (not the ones in the water, but the ones sitting in the chair with Manon), Charles is seen wearing a white button-down as he sits in a green-and-white striped beach chair. These photos were taken on the same day.

All of this has brought fans to speculate that Charles was the one who notified the paparazzi of his presence, which would explain how the photos were even taken (the paparazzi are good, but are they that good..?). It would seem that Charles decided to have a little "photoshoot" and, as his summer break is probably busy, he wanted to get it done in one day. Expose the new girlfriend and take quality pictures for fans!

Many are still confused in regards to the reasoning behind him tipping off the paparazzi and exposing his infidelity.

view all comments

user17 lol why can't it be a coincidence

user18 THISSS!!! not everything is a conspiracy!!! ↳ f1gossipgirl this is a gossip channel babes... it's what we do...

user19 why would he even do this?

user20 celebs do weird shit all the time 🤷‍♀️

user21 it could've been for PR? ↳ user22 I mean it's not like Charles/Ferrari is lacking attention ↳ user21 that's true

user23 im so confused why does antoine being there mean he called the paps?? 😭😭

f1gossipgirl it's just weird that his photographer was there the day he gets papped. and we've seen this happen before (*cough* Becky and Carlos *cough*)

yourusername August 31

liked by theestallion, landonorris, charles_leclerc and others

yourusername music video for pretty girls out sep 5th 0:00 CET

view all comments

yourbff try not to say mother challenge (IMPOSSIBLE)

yourusername marry me. ↳ yourbff bet.

spotify we're ready 🥴

caradelevingne ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

user24 damn we're being fed WELL

scarlett it was great working with you ☺️

yourusername tysm scar!!! i loved working w u too 🫶

yourusername September 5

liked by caradelevingne, yourbff, instagram and others

tagged caradelevingne, scarlett

yourusername out now ;)

huge thank u to everyone who made this possible 🩷

view all comments

user25 I love women so much

rachelzegler oh u ate that up

landonorris slay 😋

user26 HELP LANDO WHAT ↳ user27 slay 😋

instagram she's an icon, she's a legend, and she IS the moment!!!!

user28 now come on now!!!

landonorris September 17

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, team_quadrant and others

tagged carlossainz55

landonorris Carlando podium let's gooooo

view all comments

yourusername ate

user29 I agree!!

mclaren What a weekend 🔥🔥

team_quadrant LFGGGGGG

oscarpiastri 🏆🙌

user30 oscar using emojis is my roman empire

user31 SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP

September 20

yourusername added to their story September 24

seen by landonorris, anasainzvdec, pierregasly and others

y/nupdates September 25

liked by f1gossip, user32, user33 and others

tagged yourusername

y/nupdates Y/n with a fan at the Suzuka Circuit yesterday

view all comments

user34 STOP SHES SO GORGEOUS

user35 nah imagine going to a gp AND seeing y/n. I would die.

user36 ok but going to the gp is such a girlboss move

user37 LITERALLY

user38 she's out here winning the idgaf war

user39 do we know if she saw Charles there?

user40 i don't think so

October 11

#f1 #f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 social media au #smau #lando norris #lando x reader #lando norris social media au #lando norris smau #ln4 x reader

709 notes · View notes

yuquinzel · 2 years ago

Text

[ 8:37 pm ] — miya atsumu.

the clock reads 8:37 pm, exactly 14 seconds to 38 and atsumu is painfully aware of each long, dragging and excruciatingly endless second because it's been exactly 4 hours, 19 minutes and 12 seconds since you left on him read.

he's currently laid on his bed, in his dimly lit room where the only source of illumination is the faint fluorescent glow of his mobile screen.

he's frowning, brows furrowed at the dull ‘seen 4hrs ago’ in anticipation because at any second now he'll see the ‘typing...’ indication and he doesn't wanna be late to reply.

atsumu is a fast and an energetic texter. he sends you at least 14 cat videos with the “ur the third one” message immediately after each. or he sends you those ‘ask your friend which hour of the day you are’ followed by a “you. blue hour” hopefully awaiting your reply because he needs to know if you think he's the golden hour or not.

y/n 🛐: you're definitely the golden hour then lol

the better twin: damn. didn't expect that.

he actually did. hoped for it in fact. he thinks about it for the next week.

you're not the type to leave people on seen for more than 5 minutes. at least not him. you reply as quick as you can with the same energy as him and have a habit of liking his rather funny texts from time to time.

so he's more confused than upset right now, thinking of all possible reasons you could've read his messages but were unable to reply. he hasn't seen you since last friday when you told him about a week long road trip with your family. his frown only deepens when the clock hits 8:40 and there's no sign of a reply from you.

he's beginning to type a quick “are u good?” when his screen flashes with a call. your contact name. the phone rings in atsumu's hand but his fingers are frozen.

you're calling him.

you don't like phone calls.

atsumu clears his throat because he doesn't want you to hear him squeal with excitement, but he's giggling and kicking his feet, running a hand over his heart and rubbing his eyes to make sure it really is you. he lets the phone ring for a mere seconds before picking it up, “oh hey” he hopes it's as casual as he thinks.

the moment he hears you speak from the other side, atsumu knows he has lost, “ATSUMU! I'm so sorry for leaving you on read. i was in the car and battery fucking died before i could reply and i lost my charger!” you're chasing after your own words, each cut by the next one.

“oh, nah that's fine. so ya found yer charger?” he groans internally at his words, but truthfully he doesn't know what to say.

of course you didn't willingly leave him on read. of course you're calling him now because you don't want him to think otherwise. of course your words are rushed, you've always been that way.

“oh, right yeah. i got home and charged it as soon as I could” you laugh with a newfound sense of relief.

atsumu blinks, “yer home already? weren'tcha coming this sunday??” he asks.

“ohh, no, we decided to come back earlier”

and the voice call ends, leaving you confused.

it's 9:29 pm and there's a knocking at your door, hastened and impatient, the way you know someone always knocks.

“’tsumu? wait, why are you here at this hour?” you ask, wide eyes set on the setter in front of you panting like he ran a marathon.

“ya said you were back and ya must be tired so i gotcha ice cream—” he breathes out, gesturing to the bag in his hand, “—gee, coulda told me you were comin’ back today, when'd ya get here anyway? how was the trip? did ya take pictures?—”

“atsumu” you say softly, and he pauses, “breathe ”

atsumu lives about 45 minutes away, 15 if he takes the car but as he's panting right now, you know he's ran all the way here. and if he stopped by the convenience store down the street and still get here in time, you're sure he needs at least a minute to breathe.

he smiles one of his boyish, princely smiles, “also got that movie ya wanted ta watch”

“i thought you'd have watched it already?”

“wanted ta watch it with you” he's giggling with excitement you know he's trying to hide.

“okay” you laugh, grabbing his hand to pull him inside.

“okay” he repeats.

#❀˖° ─ hana writes.#miya atsumu #atsumu miya #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu fluff #atsumu imagines #atsumu x y/n #atsumu x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #hq x reader

2K notes · View notes

another-lost-mc · 2 years ago

Note

haiiii <3 i hope u're doing well! if u don't mind, can i request hcs for the brothers on how they would react to a mc (i don't mind whether it's female or gender-neutral so up to u!) who's a high achiever in human world but struggle a lot and probably fail their classes in devildom? thx so much!! feel free to ignore if u don't feel like writing this <3

When High Achiever!MC Struggles at RAD Headcanons | THE DEMON BROTHERS 2.4k words | SFW | gn!Reader | Hurt/Comfort | Fluff A/N: I resonate a lot with this prompt because I struggled with perfectionism as a student. It would've been a disaster if I was suddenly dropped in the Devildom and expected to do well somehow. lol

You stare at the paper in your hands. Your professor hands back this week’s quiz stating that the class scores are excellent, for the most part. There are a few muffled giggles around you, and you stare at the failing grade circled in red and resist the urge to cry in front of your classmates.

In the human world, you were an excellent student. You studied hard, completed your homework every night, finished all your assigned readings, and always left yourself an extra day or two to proofread your written work for errors and accuracy.

In the Devildom, you still do all those things but it doesn’t matter whether it’s a quiz or an assignment - your marks are horrible. Not just horrible by your standards, either.

Some of the professors approach you quietly after class and suggest remedial classes or private tutoring to help you. Other professors, the ones who are less sympathetic to your struggles, sneer when they hand back your work like you’re a perfect example of how humans are so weak.

The walk home from RAD is a blur. The demon brothers chat animatedly around you, but you aren't paying them much attention.

“We’re gonna order takeout for dinner tonight,” Mammon grins when you walk through the front door behind him. He waves his credit card in your face. “My treat. Whatcha want from Hell’s Kitchen?”

“I’m not hungry,” you mutter when you brush past him. You move through the clump of demons in the hallway and head to your room. Your bag slips off your shoulder to the floor, and you fall face-down on your bed and finally let yourself cry.

You don’t know how long you sob into your pillow, cursing yourself for your failures and wishing you never came here, until there’s a soft knock on your door and a familiar voice calling your name.

LUCIFER

Lucifer knows about your poor grades. Your professors have spoken to him and Barbatos more than once, since they’re the ones in charge of overseeing the student exchange program at RAD. Compared to the other exchange students, your consistently below-average or failing grades are a concern.

He’s going to consider your poor marks as a reflection of their program’s efficacy and not a personal failure on your part. Solomon and the Angels score higher in classes than you, but that makes sense - they’re all more familiar with the fantastical concepts you’re learning about for the first time.

He looks over your recent tests and written work to figure out the best solution. It’s obvious that it’s the overwhelming amount of Devildom knowledge and history you’re lacking, not your technical writing skills or your ability to comprehend the stacks of textbooks on your desk.

He reminds you as gently as he can that you’re part of an experimental program, and it’s not perfect. He asks for your input because your unique perspective and experience can make the program better for future students. It’s your chance to help improve the school’s image, and Diavolo’s reputation, so that hopefully the three realms can truly have a harmonious future.

In the meantime, he tries to keep a better eye on your well-being and your academics. It’s a difficult task because his time is already split between student council responsibilities and keeping his brothers in line. He knows that his brothers cause as much mischief for you as they do for him.

He offers you the use of his private study where you won’t be disturbed if you want peace and quiet. You don’t have to ask permission, either - you can use it whether he’s there or not. He shows you his collection of records you can listen to if you’d like to play some music while you study. (He puts the dangerous cursed records away where you won’t accidentally use them.)

If there happens to be a new kettle and a porcelain tea set and tin of your favourite tea on a shelf nearby, it’s just a coincidence. You’re welcome to use them as much as you’d like, though - he insists.

MAMMON

Mammon has a hard time believing that your grades are as bad as you say they are. You’re so smart, and he knows you work so hard. You’re the one shooing him away from your room when there’s an essay or big test coming up, telling him that you need to focus. He doesn’t like it, but he understands. The worst part is, you do all that and his grades are still better than yours - and he’s not even trying!

He’s going to blame everything and everyone except you for your academic difficulties. Diavolo and Barbatos should’ve anticipated this when they designed the exchange program, the professors shouldn’t be such assholes about it, Lucifer should’ve been helping you more, his brothers should leave you alone…

(He ignores your snarky comment about how demons shouldn’t be kidnapping random humans to begin with.)

Unfortunately, he doesn’t have a solution or a quick-fix to offer you. If such a thing existed, he would’ve gladly bought and paid for it by now. He knows he has a carefree approach to school, so he’s not going to pretend he’s got good advice for you.

No, Mammon is going to focus on being your friend instead. He’s going to keep those bully classmates off your back and keep you company between classes. He’s going to visit your room and make sure you take breaks and let yourself have a little bit of fun, because he doesn’t like seeing you stressed and unhappy. He’s going to remind you every way he knows how that he fuckin’ adores you no matter what your grades are.

LEVIATHAN

Leviathan isn’t surprised that you’re struggling. He thinks there’s too much homework, and he knows a lot of the content and history already. It’s no surprise that a normie human like you might be flunking out.

Since he’s taken some of RAD’s classes online, he’s giving you his notes and study guides. There’s some online study groups he’s going to invite you to in case you'd like to talk to other students learning the same material you are.

Watching you struggle reminds him that it would be so much easier to do everything online. If you prefer to learn or connect with your classmates virtually, then he’s going to advocate for more investment in RAD’s remote learning capabilities. Wouldn’t it be fun to stay home together and do that instead?

He tries not to bother you when he knows you’re stressed about a test or a project, but he misses his Henry when you lock yourself in your room all the time. He hates that you’re so unhappy with your grades. So what if you’re not exactly a booksmart here in the Devildom? You’d ace every test if it were about things that actually mattered, like TSL or your favourite anime series.

He’s not as motivated to do well in school, but he is motivated to help you, in his own way. That usually means inviting you to his room so you can do homework together between matches of Super Smash Devils. Games are a great way to relieve stress, after all!

SATAN

Satan is aware of your poor grades, but he’s not going treat you like Lucifer does and make you go to him like some sort of supplicant begging for help. He’s going to invite himself to your room, or drag you to the library, or drag you to his room, and you’re going to succeed with him as your tutor.

He knows that a proper foundation is crucial to helping you learn about Devildom history, culture, and magic. Satan is going to look over your work and go over the basics with you after he figures out how the school’s curriculum is failing you.

Perhaps exchange students should be placed in modified introductory courses?

That might be a solution for future students but for now, he’s taking you back to basics. He guides you through the fundamentals you’re missing so that the more advanced topics actually make sense. He soothes your frazzled nerves when you struggle with remembering certain historical events. When you start to improve, he praises your correct answers so that he can finally see the radiant smile on your face, the one that he loves so much.

When you're both in desperate need of a break, he invites you to join him on his bed, or on the sofa in the library. He has a book open in his lap -a lighthearted story, something easy to follow - and reads to you. You can hear the smile in his voice as you drift off to sleep.

(Later on, when one of his brothers find both of you asleep, Satan's arms wrapped gently around you, they throw a blanket over both of you and dim the lights.)

ASMODEUS

Asmodeus is going to gather you in his arms and hold you close while he brushes away your tears and tells you how much he adores you. You’re too hard on yourself. He thinks you’re focusing too much on all the things you struggle with and not enough on the things he admires about you.

He can see what happens when you get frustrated and depressed about your grades. You don’t smile as much anymore, the dark circles under your eyes become more prominent, your clothes fit a bit looser and it hurts him when you treat yourself badly like this. You didn’t do anything wrong and it's not your fault.

It just so happens that he loves pampering you any chance he gets, so don’t be surprised if he’s dragging you away from your desk for a mandatory R&R break in his room. You wince when his fingers dig into the knots in your back and shoulders, but he can feel the moment when you finally stop fighting and let yourself relax.

He’ll talk to you about school, but only if you bring it up first. Otherwise, he’s keeping your mind off things by talking to you about something he saw on Devilgram, or he’s asking your opinion about a new Majolish collab he’s designing.

Oh, how about a shopping spree tomorrow, just the two of you? No objections! He’ll let you choose where to go for dinner since he’s not picky. Afterwards, there’s a new boutique he wants to check out - the clothes they have are stunning, and he’s in the mood to spoil you.

BEELZEBUB

Beelzebub won’t lie and say he understands what you’re going through, because he doesn’t. Not exactly. He struggles with school sometimes, but that’s because 90% of the time he’s distracted by hunger or food, and the rest is him getting caught up in his hectic club schedule.

You’re kind to him and so thoughtful when it comes to asking what he’s like for dinner, or if he wants some of your leftovers. He doesn’t always have the right words to say like Lucifer or Satan, and he’s not as adventurous as Mammon or Asmo, but he’s going to work hard to distract you and support you the best he can.

His biggest concern is whether you’re eating enough, and he’s not going to let you skip meals or rush from the table after a couple bites. He reminds you that being hungry and undernourished is going to make it even harder to focus. He makes a conscious effort to control himself when you're cooking - he doesn't want to stress you out even more.

He also asks you to join him when he works out. He wants to make sure you’re taking time to care for your body. He doesn't care whether you do some yoga or light stretching on a mat nearby, or if you want to listen to music while you walk on the treadmill - he watches you out of the corner of his eye while he trains. When you're both finished (or when you're done and he pretends he is too), he makes sure you both get a proper snack from the kitchen.

BELPHEGOR

Belphegor surprises everyone when he aces a test after rushing through the answers and napping for the rest of class. He doesn’t realize how it makes you feel only a few seats away from him, scribbling as fast as possible even as the professor slides the paper out from under you, and you end up with a barely passing grade to show for it.

He’s not going to dwell on his feelings about the exchange program. What he is going to do is share his criticisms loudly, and meanly, with his oldest brother and Diavolo whenever he gets the chance. It’s their fault you’re here, stuck trying to learn thousands of years of history and culture about a place you’ve just learned exists. Of course you’re struggling - they’re asking too much of you.

He’ll offer to help you study, if that’s what you want. You don’t have to rely on Satan for that, you know. But what he considers more important, what he wants to focus on, is helping you with your disturbing lack of sleep.

You might not know this, but he knows how late you stay up at night trying to study. He knows how your mind is constantly racing with thoughts of failure and self-loathing and regret. You get up before your alarm after a restless night of tossing and turning. You sleep so badly, he can’t sleep properly either.

He’s going to start visiting you shortly before your usual bedtime, and he’s going to keep you company while he helps you put your books away. (Stop trying to argue, it’s for your own good.) He’s going to push your pajamas into your arms and nudge you towards the en-suite to change and shower and whatever else you need to do to get ready for bed.

When you come out looking cozy and a bit more relaxed and so damn cute, he’s going to ask which bed you’d prefer to sleep in - yours or his? Because he’s going to ward off the negative thoughts while you fall asleep, and he’s going to give you happier dreams. When you wake up tomorrow, you’ll understand what he already knows: none of that other stuff matters, so long as you have each other.

1K notes · View notes

toxintouch · 2 months ago

Note

Yooooooo, you write fan fictions, don't you? Halloween is, like, right over there *points*. would you be willing to do one of mhin taking sparrow ghost hunting? and maybe even having a "guest appearance" of a certain shadow manipulator?

if this has already been done, could you point me in the right direction?

thank you~

I've never seen a fic like that but omg. This is such a brilliant idea, I love how all the pieces come together so perfectly–Vere being said to be responsible for his fair share of local ghost stories, mentions of Mhin and haunted houses in the Uquiz results… Premium thoughts. I had a lot of fun writing this, ty for giving me the prompt!! :>

It took a couple of extra days but it's also longer (~2900 words) so hopefully that makes up for it. p.s sorry if u meant it to be more gen bc I wrote romantic pining lol Volume Warning! Ambiance (~BEAUTIFUL FOX NOISES) for y'all /j

Cold Spots

You pull your cloak tighter around yourself, sheltering your remaining body heat from the howling wind.

You ignore the shiver that creeps down your spine.

You’ve been warned that the night is chilly in Eridia at this time of year, but you haven’t quite scraped together enough coin to afford more layers. So you huddle closer to the swaying lamplight of the Wet Wick, attempting to leech warmth from the cheery (if occasionally overwhelming) atmosphere of the bar. You’re on edge, wary about straying too far from the Wick’s affable open doors and the balmy light spilling out of them.

You crane your neck to peer as far as you can around the corner without moving, eyeing the myriad of nearby alleyways, all full to the brim with shadows, searching for a familiar splash of moonlight and blue sweeping through the night.

That’s when you feel eyes on your back.

You freeze, all of your senses on high alert.

“You’re where I asked you to be.” Mhin says in lieu of a greeting. You startle, reeling around to face them. Even when you're expecting them, they have the uncanny ability of sneaking up on you.

“You say that like you’re surprised.” You chide, in mock affront. “You’ll notice that I’m also on time.” Your giddiness shows on your face, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Don’t act so pleased with yourself,” they snipe while rolling their eyes, “for anyone else, that’s the bare minimum.” They frown, looking you up and down with their arms tightly crossed. “...Is that what you’re wearing?”

Any further quips you have for them die in your mouth, drowned out by nervous chuckling. You realize they must be asking (in their own way) if you’re not going to get too cold. You know you could just ask Leander or Kuras for some seasonally appropriate attire but you’d rather not rely on further charity if you can’t help it. Hence: “I’m, um, warm blooded?” You mean to inject an appropriate amount of bravado into your voice, but it comes out as more of a question.

Mhin sighs, long eyelashes brushing their cheeks as they close their eyes for one long moment. “Sometimes I wonder… Fine. Let’s just get going.”

The floorboards shriek beneath your feet as you step across the threshold. The entire shack seems to groan and sway, protesting audibly against the wind. You stick close to Mhin’s back as they hold their gas lamp up, casting an eerie glow about the interior of the abandoned building. Their keen eyes do a quick sweep before they nod decisively and usher you inside with a single precise motion.

The bellow of the wind sounds almost like a scream as the door shuts behind you.

“So, what are we looking for, exactly?” Your voice comes out hushed, the haunting atmosphere insisting that you behave accordingly.

“Likely nothing.” Mhin responds. “Actual ghost sightings are very rare. And of those, few recorded instances come from trustworthy sources. People in Eridia can be quite superstitious. Count on rats or other pests. It’s more plausible that this is a mere infestation rather than–”

The roof above your heads gives a long, low creeaaaak.

You both pause for a beat, listening to silence.

“How would we know if it's a real ghost?” You ask, more out of curiosity than anything. You’re not about to waste the opportunity, if Mhin is willing to keep talking.

“Depends on the type of ghost.” Another protest from the floorboards as Mhin wanders further into the dark. Since you don’t have a lantern of your own, you have no choice but to follow close behind. Unless you want to stumble around with nothing but the shatters of dusty moonlight cast through the cracked windows to guide your way.

Mhin and you make a quick round of the small building, finding it mostly empty, only a few pieces of broken furniture left behind. You draw closer to the back wall, carefully avoiding moth-eaten curtains, heeding Mhin’s warning about a small step. Based on the layout, you think this place might have been a bar or entertainment hall of some sort. You imagine it had a nice, cozy parlor at one time, though now it’s fallen into squalor. As Mhin examines the walls for signs of pests and other clues, you examine the graffiti strewn across them: crude jokes and lewd drawings, mostly. Some scattered names, belonging to people and gangs you’ve never heard of before.

Framed in the center, though, there's a huge riot of colorful paint. An abstract painting with no proper canvas. It's beautiful, somehow, though hauntingly morose. The artist has contained their work in a neat square, not a single streak of color escaping the precisely imposed prison. You’re not sure what the intent of the artist was choosing somewhere like this to display it…

“Is there a type of ghost that makes artwork?” You wonder aloud. You almost wish that Mhin would hand you the lantern so you can get a better look.

Mhin clicks their tongue, sparing barely a glance toward the makeshift painting. “I wouldn't define that as art.” Mhin follows the line of the wall to the corner, their lantern held up to the wall. “That’s just…paint. If you’re looking for ghosts, try looking for scratch marks. Those are a possible indicator, though not always a reliable one. A sudden feeling of hot, or cold–any otherwise unexplainable temperature change. A strange odor…”

You give the air a sniff. “...I don’t smell anything. Do you?”

“Dust. Rotting wood. And you’ve stopped using Leander’s bath soaps, which I’ll commend you for. Why anybody would want to smell that strongly of–” Mhin stops and gives a short whiff, their mouth slightly parted. Their brows furrow. “It is unusual…I don't see or smell any signs of rats or roaches. No vultures either…”

“Maybe something else scared them away?” You posit. You shuffle closer to Mhin, not liking the way the shadows around you seem to flow and ebb the longer you look at them, your mind making up shapes. There’s a silly part of you that wants to feel Mhin’s cloak between your bandaged fingers as reassurance that they’ll stay close. They’d probably hate to know that you see them as something to cling to–a source of comfort, safety.

You try to take another step closer to further dampen your trepidation, but instead you trip over– something–and stumble directly into Mhin. They catch you on impulse, strong and quick enough to steady you with one arm while holding the lantern with the other. You breathe an apology, your lips bumping against their chin as they help you get your feet back under you.

You both search the ground to determine what knocked you off your balance.

It's a dirty old rug, rucked up at one edge.

A long line of what appears to be claw marks lies half uncovered below it. Mhin kneels beside the marks, studying them intently, carefully moving the rug to reveal yet more splintered wood. “I’m not sure what could have done this,” they admit. “The marks are fresh, but none of the dust was disrupted…”

The floorboards groan another protest, though it bounds off the walls in strange ways, making it difficult to pinpoint exactly where the sound originated.

“Aural contortions.” Mhin announces. “And a feeling that you’re being watched. Reflective surfaces will behave oddly as well. Hold this.” Mhin hands you the lantern (more: shoves it into your grasp, really) reaching into their satchel. Their nimble hands pull out a handful of alchemical concoctions, one which shines like the inside of a seashell, a tiny silver locket, which they flick open to reveal a small mirror. There’s symbols etched into it, so old and worn away you can’t make them out.

You draw the lantern closer at their behest, illuminating a small smile spread across their face.

Is Mhin …Having fun?

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You ask, hoping they don’t notice the warmth in your voice. Getting scolded would kind of ruin the mood.

Mhin glances up, blinking at you like they almost forgot you were there. Their tongue peeks out, wetting their lips as they consider. “Yes,” they finally agree, “would you–”

The lamplight is smothered by an unknown force.

The cracked streams of light from the window are gone, leaving you in darkness.

Mhin swears, their voice distorting as if they are suddenly very far away. A moment ago they were crouched beside you, but the shadows surrounding you are so inky you can’t make out their silhouette at all. Instinctively, you reach your hands out in front of you before freezing and reluctantly forcing them back down. If both you and Mhin end up stumbling around with hands outstretched, there’s a possibility that they might accidentally grasp onto you and disrupt your bandages. (You wish you had given into your desire to hold onto them earlier.)

You whisper their name, frantic, hoping they can hear you.

“I’m here,” Mhin assures you, their voice pitched low and cautious. You feel the gentle press of a foot against yours, a light tap of reassurance against the side of your sole. “Stay close.” There’s a brush of fingertips against your back. “If the entity is particularly powerful, it will be able to move objects,” Mhin cautions, “but a ghost should never be capable of causing harm to humans directly. And there’s not much in here that it could throw. Just stay calm. If you don’t keep your emotions in check, it will only be more incensed.”

Light flashes through the room again in a spotlight, guiding your gaze to a particular area of the building.

The abstract mural is defaced, dripping black liquid splattered boldly across the wall like arterial spray. You retreat a step, feeling something wet beneath your feet. There’s a sharp, astringent tang in the air. Musty and earthy-floral. Old velvet and leather, parchment and fresh paint.

You realize, with a sinking feeling of cold terror, that the black ichor on the wall spells your name.

Eyes on you.

Touch like a gossamer spider web. Brushing against the nape of your neck.

“Mhin,” you whisper urgently. “Something just–”

The cold hits you then. Bone deep and all consuming. Judging by the way Mhin swears, they must feel it too. Whatever this unknown entity is, it’s close. And it wants…

Shadow flickers, fingers reaching for you, claws grasping, white glint of teeth.

Mhin sneers audibly, reaching for you and reeling you in by your cloak just before the figure can snatch you up. Their arm wraps around you, guiding you with them as they recede. They sweep their stiletto in a wide arc and you hear the clang of metal on metal, though you have no idea what it was that Mhin hit. Their night vision must be immaculate–you can hardly see more than the fresh glint of their stiletto blade.

“Turns out it is a vermin infestation.”

A bark of laughter.

Very familiar laughter.

The door starts to rattle on its hinges, moving to the rhythm of Vere's glee. Mhin walks over to it, dragging your shaking body with them. With a definitive kick from Mhin and a final cackle from Vere, the door bursts open.

Mhin tugs you out into the open air and slams it behind them.

“Awful fur-bag.” Mhin spits the words out like the mere thought of Vere leaves a bad taste in their mouth.

You’re far enough away that the black paint clinging to both of your shoes is no longer leaving footprints, but you can’t say the same about the bone deep cold.

You’re shivering so hard your teeth start to chatter, adrenaline magnifying the chill in your bones. How did Vere even do that? You rub your arms and nearly stumble into Mhin in the process. Their features twist into a half-formed scowl, eyes sweeping you before softening into something more delicate.

You find yourself staring into eyes that seem to catch the moonlight, words caught in your throat.

“You’re freezing.” Mhin murmurs, resting a hand against the curve of your cheek, testing your temperature.

You’re surprised at the contact. Mhin is always so careful about touching you–it’s something you appreciate, usually, this unspoken agreement between the two of you; Mhin doesn’t ask intrusive questions, just makes silent hypotheses and treats your personal space with care. You appreciate it–usually–but sometimes, (constantly), you wish…

Mhin’s thumb pets against your jaw. They glace away from you as they do, unable to hold your gaze, but they don’t remove their hand, even as the moment hangs heavy in the air. Their hand is soft, you think, fingertips like silk, though you can feel the thick calluses built up at the meat of their palm. Likely hard won and harder lost, trophies from their time as a freelancer and whatever secret misfortune befell them what led them to Eridia. Unthinking, you nuzzle into their touch, luxuriating in the coveted feeling of skin on skin. You have half a mind to turn your head, press your lips against their calluses, kiss them like you’re drawing poison from a wound.

Mhin catches your chin between their thumb and pointer finger. Their grip is assertive, certain. You’d worry that you’ve angered them somehow, but the intensity of their gaze, the subtle tilt of their head, the flush of their cheeks, the featherlight caress of their breath on your lips…

–You think they might–

They back away abruptly in one smooth stride. Their hands work quickly at the intricate clasp on their cloak. Oh, now they’re really looking away.

“Wear this while we head back. You didn’t come to this city to die of cold.”

They look at their bracers pointedly as you hesitate, as if itching to adjust them. You slowly reach out and put the garment on.

The trek back to the Wick is uneventful. The occasional star glances out from the pall of clouds constantly lingering in the Eridian sky. You look for the waning moon, finding its reticent light and following it home. You return Mhin’s cloak at the door, careful to hold it in a way that allows them to take it without having to touch you – touch your bandages.

Mhin looks, oddly, a little reluctant to see it returned. You’re not sure how else you can possibly read their body language. Their hunched shoulders, the downturn of their mouth, their uncharacteristic lingering. Holding the cloak in their hands like they can’t quite decide what to think of it.

They let out a sharp breath.

Mhin levels you with a pointed glare as they settle their mantle across their shoulders, affixing the clasp without need to look down. “Buy some warmer clothes.” they order, “Tell Leander that the contract is complete and the buyer’s ‘ghost problem’ is solved. The building should be fine for renovations, just tell them to start their renewal project on a day when the Senobium is actually holding Vere’s leash.”

“You’ll come back for your cut tomorrow…?” Confusion rolls off your lips.

“No.” Mhin crosses their arms again. “I just told you to buy some warmer clothes, didn’t I? Consider it hazard pay.” Again, that disgusted tone Mhin reserves for Vere. “Even with that taken into consideration, you’ll still owe me, though. Don’t forget. I’ll collect some day; everyone does in this city.”

You’re not sure what to say. Mhin is insisting that this is just a loan, and you believe that wholeheartedly. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t charity. Mhin’s also offering you transparency–an open disclosure of the deal you’re agreeing to. You take their cut, buy what you need, and resolve to pay it back when you can. And if Mhin needs something similar in the future, you’ll return them in kind.

You think you stumble over your words a little, but you agree to their offer.

“I’ll be back to collect another contract. Hopefully something that’s not a waste of my time.”

And a promise to come back is a promise to see you again, isn’t it? To include you in their life? Is that what you’re supposed to take from this? That Mhin cares for you, even if they won’t–

Or is it your foolish heart, showing you a path that isn’t really there?

“Goodnight, Mhin.” You say the words, but their back is already turned, steps already taken.

✦ EXTENDED ENDING...? ✦

You putter around in your room at the Wet Wick as you go about your nightly routine. The occasional cheer or thud from below only accentuates your nervous energy, punctuating your reluctance to settle down and get into bed. You smooth the covers with your bandaged hands and fluff the pillow before extinguishing the lamplight. You tug the bedding up above your shoulders, fighting to get comfortable. As your eyelids finally start to droop, the flicker of a shadow catches your attention. It dances and sways and bends and grows until suddenly it is right in front of you. On top of you. Silken, blood red drips down onto your face, a knife gleam smile too close for comfort. You breathe in a gasp, wondering if you should scream. “Vere, what–” “Shhh,” he coos, pressing a finger lightly to your lips. His breath is hot against your skin. “I only came to keep you warm, pet.”

✦Heat Signature (Vere Continuation) ->

#Mhin is an ABSTRACT ART HATER that is my headcanon looll #WHEEEE HAPPY SCARY SEASON!! I HOPE U LIKED I HOPE U HAD FUN #you get to choose if sparrow screams and vere lols and says peace out i’ve had my fun orrrr #it’s an open ending :)#Wow Vere u ruined date night #ummm Sparrow Mhin is not only careful about touching you for your own benefit #Mhin is also. White knuckling their self control.#If they let themself touch even a little…they might just want to touch a lot #this whole thing is just: how many tropes can I pack into here?#ya’ll think ghosts are real in TS universe??#wouldn’t that be interesting… >:3 #ALSO THE EXTENDED ENDING IS ME PLAYING WITH THAT HORROR MOVIE TROPE WHERE THE CREATURE ETC ALWAYS COMES BACK AT THE END #Mhin x reader #surprise! vere x reader - just a smidge??#Touchstarved Game #Touchstarved game fanfic #mhin touchstarved #toxintouch: {pick} prompt {your poison}#that’s a stupid long tag but i think it’s funny tbh so i’m #toxintouch writing

93 notes · View notes

whorergal · 2 years ago

Text

SHE'S MINE (PART THREE)

summary: you and ethan form a plan but in order for it to work, you need to make it look believable…

warnings: scream vi spoilers, language (cussing), blood, gore. follows the plot loosely. happy ending, i promise.

pairings: ethan landry x fem!reader

authors note: here's the final part! i just wanted to say thank you for all the likes and reblogs!! it's honestly so sweet of everyone and it means a lot to me! i have a bunch of ideas for ethan so look out for more imagines and hopefully a masterlist for easier navigation (i'm still new to this lol) :-) i love u all so much

——————————————————————————————

To say that you were surprised when finding out about Ethan and his relation to Richie Kirsch would be an understatement. He had been someone that you had hated and even vented to Ethan about when you two first met. It just seemed very ironic. Although Ethan did love his brother, he knew the things he did weren't right once he realized how much shit he put you through.

The late night calls because of your nightmares, the flashbacks you would get whenever someone touched you too roughly, having to avoid the scars on your body because it brought you back to Woodsboro; it opened his eyes.

You weren't entirely shocked to find out Quinn was the other Ghostface that attacked you. She always had some unsaid vendetta against you and you realized now it was just because of your history. What did shock you was to find out Detective Bailey was the mastermind behind it all—not only that, but he was also Ethan and Quinn's father.

He showed up the moment you and Ethan met your friends outside their apartment. Mindy had stolen you from Ethan, leaving him alone with Chad, who was asking him questions to confirm his whereabouts. Luckily, you made sure to practice what to say with him on the train ride there. It seemed your excuses sufficed because Chad nodded, apologizing for thinking the worst.

While on your trip to the run-down theater, Chad had taken Mindy, thanking you for lifting her mood (you three had always been close since you were kids). You walked in the back alongside Ethan, holding his hand to calm your nerves which ended up in you receiving a look from Bailey. You don't think he knew you noticed but ever since you found out about him, you had been unintentionally tense around him.

The memorabilia that had been collected scared the hell out of you. It increased your worries despite knowing everything would end up being okay.

Tara seemed to notice how your breathing began to increase and stepped closer to you. "Hey, you okay?"

You looked at her, faking a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just going to get some air."

The group all watched you leave. Chad was going to follow after you but Tara stopped him when they saw that Ethan had already been on your trail. She smirked at him.

"You owe me five bucks," Tara informed him.

"Shut up," Chad replied, shaking his head.

No one found you two suspicious. If anything, your sudden relationship seemed to throw them off your tracks.

Everyone left the theater, finding you two on the steps, you tiredly laying in his arms. Tara smiled at you two, gesturing for you to follow. When you got up, Mindy reclaimed you as her own again, pulling you away from Ethan as she needed your comfort. You talked with her the whole walk to fill her mind with distractions.

They all needed somewhere to recoup and to come up with a reliable plan. You offered your apartment, knowing theirs was most likely still a crime scene. Yours hadn't been messed up in the sense that there was no broken doors and bloody messes all over the floor. Mindy actually agreed, saying she wanted to sit in Anika's room alone for a little bit.

"Don't mind the mess," you joked once entering. Your books were scattered about the place. "And the…blood," you muttered when you saw some it trailing where you had dragged yourself across the kitchen.

None of them cared much, getting right into what to do next. You ended up leaving to your room because your stitches were hurting like hell and you didn't want to cause any alarm to them about it.

You sat there, alone for a few minutes until you heard a quiet knock on the door. Honestly, you were expecting Tara, or maybe Chad because he kept eyeing you frequently, but Ethan peeked his head inside and you sighed of relief. He gave you his awkward smile and entered slowly, shutting the door softly behind him.

"Hey, are you feeling okay?" he asked, walking over to take a seat on your bed beside you.

You nodded, holding back a wince at the movement he caused which made you flex your muscles. "Yeah, yeah, I'm okay. Nothing I'm not used to."

"Your stitches," he realized aloud, leaning closer. "Shit, I forgot. Do they hurt?"

"Sort of," you responded, gripping your stomach as if it would make the pain go away.

"Is there anything I can do?" He looked at you softly, as if his eye contact could harm you.

You forced a smile. "Distract me, please."

"Well, I, uh," he stuttered. "I came up with a plan."

"A plan?" You questioned, confused.

"Yeah. I talked to my dad while at the theater and I found out the last steps he and Quinn will be taking," Ethan informed you which wasn't exactly the distraction you wanted but nevertheless, it was useful. "He doesn't know about you, or about us so I have him convinced that the reason I saved you was because I wanted to kill you myself."

You widened your eyes. "Oh."

"Obviously, I'm not going to—"

"I know, E."

He nodded before continuing. "Quinn's going to get Gale next. Then she'll be heading for us. I'm not too sure what she wants to do but I know it'll involve someone in the group in order to keep them all from going to the theater. My guess will be Mindy. When that happens, she'll go for you next so you have to stick with me."

"Go for me next?" you repeated for more clarification.

"I told my dad that I wanted you there for act three. Quinn will knock you out, take you to the theater, dress you up in a robe and frame you as a Ghostface." He paused, scanning your expressions. It wasn't a bad idea, actually, other than the fact that you'll be framed as a psychotic murderer.

"Okay, so I just have to pretend that I don't know?" you questioned, wanting to make sure.

"Yes, exactly," he answered. "They're under the impression that I'm going to kill you so they'll tell Sam and Tara you're the Ghostface to throw them off and when the reveals happen, you'll be given to me."

You nod slowly, taking a second to let all the information sink in before worrying aloud. "What if they don't? What if Quinn ends up hurting me again?"

"I won't let anything happen to you," he declared, grabbing your face in his hands. "She knows better now."

Your eyes softened as you nod again for the last time. Then you fell forward into his arms, just wanting to be held. He did as told, being careful with your injury, and just played with your hair which made you smile.

"You know, when I said distraction, that wasn't really what I meant," you mumbled into his chest.

He furrowed his brows. "What did you—" then he stopped himself when he realized. "Oh."

You laughed until it turned into a wince. He pulled you apart from him to make sure you were okay. You nodded silently, diving right back into his arms again. It gave you comfort.

You and Ethan stayed close to each other the entire time you were with the group. He didn't want you to be without him, afraid losing you for one second would mean he would lose you forever. His hand was interlocked with yours or settled on top of your thigh—whatever physical touch he could get from you. You even ended up falling asleep on his shoulder inside the van with Kirby, Chad and Mindy.

Then when you guys detected the call was coming from Gale's apartment, kudos to Quinn, that was where you all headed to next. It was where you learned that Gale had actually survived her fatal attack which you wanted to snicker at because Quinn failed again but you held it back to not look weird.

Sam had created a plan with Kirby and Bailey to head to the theater in order to lure Ghostface and lock him in. Apparently that was Bailey's idea which made sense seeing as he was one of the Ghostface's. So you all headed to the train station in order to get a lift to the rundown area.

Someone had ended up shoving you away from the group, elbowing you right in the stomach. You had to pause, grunting in pain until you looked up and couldn't find anyone. You forced yourself to suck up the pain and roughly shove everyone out of your way which helped you catch sight of Ethan's worried expression, searching the crowd presumably for you.

He found you almost immediately, adjusting his backpack and running straight to you.

"I'm sorry," he apologized when he got to you.

"It wasn't your fault," you reassured him.

You two finally reached the train right when it began to ride away from you. You groaned, knowing everyone had caught it together but then you saw Mindy ahead, doing the same thing as you.

"Mindy!" you hollered, causing her to turn and let out a sigh of relief to find out she wasn't alone.

"Thank god," she muttered. But then she saw Ethan and pulled you away from him protectively. "Get your Ghostface ass away from us, Ghostface."

Ethan gave her an offended look, watching as she created a safe distance from him. He kept looking at you two, making sure you were okay but Mindy would gesture for him to stop with arm movements. It caused him to roll his eyes.

When you entered the next train, you tried to convince Mindy to stick close to him in order to eliminate one of you from being attacked. She didn't listen but knew better than to force you to stay with her so she told you to "go to your boyfriend". You scoffed playfully at her childish behavior, finding her stubbornness amusing.

You had to squeeze through people to reach where he stood in the middle. When he saw you, his expression softened as he went forward to help you. Thankfully, there was a seat open right by where he stood so you sat there, mindlessly staring around as the train shook you.

The lights kept flickering and it gave you immense amount of anxiety. Ethan's eyes seemed to be fixed on Mindy, as if making sure she was okay as well. It must have meant Quinn was nearby seeing as she was targeting Mindy next.

Once the train finally came to a stop, Ethan turned to you and helped you up since your wounds were hurting more than usual. You instantly looked for Mindy but couldn't find her, sending you into a panic. You let go of Ethan, pushing people out of the way until you saw her lumped figure against the back of the train, a large stab wound in her gut.

Ethan and you both let out a jumble of curses while helping her up, leading her out of the train while calling for help.

You three were escorted to the nearest hospital where she went under immediate surgery and you even got yourself checked. Your stitches had reopened—which explained why they hurt so much—so they sewed them back together and even wrapped it up which made it feel a lot more secure.

The doctor released you, letting you return to where Mindy's room was. When you reached her floor, it was strangely quiet. Ethan had left you earlier, saying he needed to find Quinn, which you didn't pay much mind to as you assumed it was so he didn't look suspicious.

You scrolled through your phone, having not received any texts from Tara or the rest of the group that wasn't with you which made you nervous. They were probably busy setting up the theater but you couldn't help but assume the worst. In the midst of your distraction, you found yourself stepping into an unknown liquid which caused you to look from your phone to the floor.

It was blood.

Your mind immediately went to Mindy, but before you were able to worry about her, you were smacked across the head which sent you falling to the hard floor. Your vision started to become black when you swore you heard Ethan's voice.

"Ssh. It's okay, I got you."

- -

You awoke by the sound of excessive footsteps happening all around you. The bright lighting in the room caused your head to throb, making you squint your eyes until you felt well enough to open them all the way. You immediately recognized the room and knew you were inside the theater. You had no idea where Ethan was or what the hell was going on but you were positive that answer would come soon.

Slowly, you started to get up from your position, propping yourself up on your elbows. You looked around but your eyes couldn't help focusing on the black robe covering your entire body. Even though Ethan had informed you about this beforehand, you still felt yourself starting to panic.

What if he changed his mind? What if this was the plan all along; make you think he was on your side just to easily lure you into this trap. No, no, Ethan wouldn't do that.

"Look who's awake," the familiar voice that belonged to Detective Bailey spoke.

You searched around the room until his figure came into view, wearing an evil smirk. "What the hell is going on?"

"You don't get it, do you?" Actually you did. "You know the plan. You know why we're here; to stop Ghostface. It was pretty easy to convince Sam that Kirby was mentally unfit and had taken the mantle in her own hands for the best friend she lost…but she couldn't do it alone. That's where you come in."

"What are you talking about?" Your voice was groggy. Your mind was still fuzzy from the hit you received so his voice didn't really sound as close as it was to you. "Are you saying that Kirby's Ghostface?"

"Well, to Sam and Tara she'll be," he told you. Then he crouched to reach your level. "And you'll be to."

"What?"

"Kirby needed someone to do the dirty work for her while she couldn't." He shrugged, his voice becoming more and more angered as he continued talking. "Don't worry, you won't be the only one. My own accomplices will take the fall with you until the time is right. But we have to fuck with Sam somehow. We have to make her feel betrayal to throw us off her radar for the best reveal. Make her feel what she's made us feel for the past year."

"You're Ghostface?" you questioned. Your fogged up mind was really helping you play the part of confused.

He nodded. "And so are you."

You looked at him in disgust. "What the fuck?"

"It has to be this way, Y/N," he tutted in sarcastic sadness. It pissed you off. "You were the easiest pawn in this game. Your betrayal will weaken them the most. It's the perfect fucking idea!"

"Fuck you!" you yelled, kicking him straight in the face.

You were able to throw him back. Your uneasy state didn't help you much in your favor because as you lifted yourself up, your knees gave out. The mix of pain coming from your wounds plus your throbbing head made you nauseous that you didn't even completely register the feeling of Bailey gripping you by the hair until the cold touch of his gun was placed against your temple.

Unable to move in general, you froze.

"Unless you want your brains splattered across this wall, I'd suggest you follow my orders," he threatened. You winced at the rough shake he gave your head in order to emphasize his words. You immediately surrendered to which he noticed and nodded at. "Good."

He let go of your hair forcefully, it caused you to fall forward, catching yourself. You heard shuffling coming from behind you but when you turned to look, his back was the only thing you could make out. "What are you doing?"

"You need this to complete your costume," he responded, walking back over to you. He was enthusiastically holding a mask in the air. "This is Mickey Altieri's mask. I thought he would fit you well, you know, once I paint you to be this psycho who wanted to kill your friends for fun."

You glared at him. "They'll never believe you."

"Oh, I think they just might." He nodded, forcing the mask over your face which you tried to fight against. Then, there were gunshots heard which made you flinch and Bailey chuckle. "It's showtime."

He forced you on your feet by your robe, holding you tightly in his grip as he dragged you out of the room. You had no strength so he was basically holding your entire weight as you struggled to find balance. With your lack of stability, there wasn't much you could do and also because you felt his gun poking your back as if to keep you in your place.

"Get away from the girls!" Bailey announced his presence, pulling you along with him like a rag doll. "It's over, Kirby! I got you and your partner!"

"What the hell are you talking about?!" Kirby questioned in utter disbelief and you didn't blame her.

"Cut the bullshit!" Bailey hollered. "I saw this one helping you out to stage your attack!"

"What?!" Kirby's voice rose an octave.

"Who is this, Kirby? Huh?" he asked, referring to you as he shook you in his grip.

"I have no idea, okay?! It's not me!"

"Well, I'll just have to see for myself—" he was muttering to himself, using the hand that held his gun to rip the mask off your face. "Oh my god…"

"Y/N?" Sam looked at you in betrayal.

"What the fuck," Tara whispered, backing away from you.

"Stop! It's not me!" you yelled, squirming but he readjusted his grip. "It's not Kirby either! He's lying!"

"Y/N Y/L/N?" Bailey questioned. "How could you? Where the hell are the others?!"

"You're insane!" you yelled at him. You redirected your attention to them, finding it hard to breathe. "I'm not Ghostface! He is! He knocked me out and forced me into this costume! Please, you have to believe me!"

"Did you and Y/N kill Quinn?" Bailey asked in anger, his question targeted at Kirby. "Did you two kill my daughter?!" He shook you, looking at you when he finished his question.

"Jesus Christ!" Kirby let out.

"We didn't do anything!" you answered, feeling your voice beginning to give out. "You know that, you asshole!"

"Whatever he's been saying to you, don't listen to him! Y/N and I are innocent!" Kirby defended you both. "He's probably Ghostface."

"Why would he kill his own daughter?" Sam couldn't help but question, glancing back and forth between you and Kirby.

"Because he's a psycho!" you answered loudly.

"It doesn't make any sense—"

Kirby's voice overpowered Tara's concern as you saw her eyes go wide and gun straighten. "Behind you!"

You heard loud footsteps rushing toward you from behind but everything went silent the moment Bailey shot his gun, landing two bullets in Kirby's stomach. She fell to the ground, causing you to gasp. You let out another shriek when you felt a pair of strong arms grab you from behind, restricting you from movement as they dragged you along with them to stand beside Bailey.

It was Ethan.

"Great job," Bailey complimented. "Both of you."

"What the fuck?" Sam breathed out in confusion until she saw your frightened figure still being held. You saw guilt flash across her face for not trusting you.

"Let her go!" Tara screamed, heading for you but Sam had to hold her back.

It caused Bailey to chuckle. "Oh, you should've seen the look on your faces. To think your only friend would betray you but she's actually innocent; just ended up being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Fuck you!" You let out.

Ethan covered your mouth with his gloved hand and you instinctively relaxed in his grip but forced yourself to fight him in order to make it look believable. You assumed he wanted to make sure your words wouldn't end up pissing Bailey off so he didn't do anything rash to you.

You were fading in and out of reality. You weren't paying attention until Bailey nudged Ethan to take off his mask.

He pulled it off with a smile on his face.

You looked up from where he had you, your mouth dropping into a fake gasp. "E-Ethan?"

"Hi, baby," he whispered in your ear. "Mindy was right. It was easy to juke the roommate lottery. I mean, all I had to do to meet you guys was to room with a conceited, condescending asshole, literally named Chad. Fuck, it felt good to kill him!" His tone made you flinch; he sounded really insane. Then he rose his mask in the air. "This was your grandmother's Sam; Nancy Loomis. Really runs in the fucking family, doesn't it? And speaking of family…my names not Ethan Landry. Isn't it, dad?"

Tara looked lost. "Dad?"

"Had to keep it secret. I mean, I had to get close to you guys somehow," Ethan stated, leaning his cheek to be against yours. He gave you a quick kiss on the cheek which would've made you blush in any other circumstance. "Had to have Y/N for myself."

"You're psychotic," you told him.

Catching him off guard, you managed to shove his arms away from you. Tara and Sam were prepared to pull you away but he gathered you rather easily as you didn't make it much of a battle to. You just needed to look like you weren't comfortable with being in this position.

What startled you was the feeling of his blade being placed against your throat. "Not so fast," he whispered.

You gulped. Now you were really afraid.

"Let her go, you asshole!" Tara shouted.

Ethan pulled the knife away and rose it at her which absentmindedly made her flinch. "Oh, come on. Y/N doesn't mind this. Don't you, baby?"

"Fuck you," you breathed out.

"So vulgar that mouth of yours." His attention was purely on you as his knife was placed back against your throat.

Tara watched in disbelief, shaking her head.

"Ethan was the one who came up with this plan," Bailey said proudly, squeezing his son's shoulder. "He knew how easy it would be to make Y/N fall for him. It kept him from looking suspicious because nobody suspects the caring boyfriend."

They both began to chuckle together. You rolled your eyes at them. It caused Ethan to dig the knife deeper into your skin, on the verge of slicing you.

"Wait," Sam interrupted them. "If it's you two, then that just leaves…"

While they all gawked in betrayal at Quinn's reveal, Ethan leaned his lips close to your hair to cover his words. "You okay?"

You glanced at him and you could see the apologetic look in his eyes for the position he had you in. You nodded very slightly before trying to squirm out of his grip again.

"Hey, roomies. You didn't see that one coming, did you?"

"Yeah, because you died!"

"Kind of didn't." Quinn tilted her head. "I had to get off the suspect list. Stab Gale Weathers, stab Mindy in the train, take Y/N because Ethan couldn't do it himself!"

Ethan rolled his eyes.

"It's funny, isn't it," Quinn continued. "Poor Y/N. She was just trying to help her friends which only led her straight into the trap. Come on, how fucking stupid can you be?!"

"Let her go," Sam stated sternly. "She has nothing to do with this!"

"She has everything to do with this!" Quinn yelled back, walking over to where Ethan still held you. She traced the tip of her knife along your stomach which caused you to shiver as she pressed into your stitches. "She's a killer, just like you, Sam. That's why it'll be easy to frame you both."

"What?" Tara questioned.

"Oh." Quinn jumped from her spot. "You didn't really think we'd take the blame for it. It'll all fall onto Sam, the villain of Woodsboro. She couldn't get enough so she just had to go on another killing spree and she couldn't do it all alone! She needed someone to help her."

"Y/N's not a killer," Sam stated matter-of-factly, watching in disbelief. "Neither am I. We're not killers."

"Oh, shut up!" Quinn snapped.

Bailey walked forward, pulling out a mask from his jacket and raising it for her to see. "You're a killer just like your father."

"No, I'm not!" Sam yelled.

"Yes, you are, you motherfucker! You killed our brother!"

Tara furrowed her brows. "You said your brother died in a car accident?"

"No, no, no, you sweet dumb thing," Ethan jumped into the conversation. "He died in Woodsboro at the hands of your bitch sister with the help of Y/N, here."

Sam's face fell in realization. "You're Richie's family."

"Now she's finally getting it." Ethan smirked.

He gripped your robe, tugging you carelessly to follow him as he and Quinn ventured around the seats in order to get behind Sam and Tara, significantly trapping them. It caused the two to tense and you as well. You weren't sure what was going to happen next.

"Y/N didn't kill him," Sam declared in annoyance. "I'm the one who slit his throat; I'm the one who watched him bleed to death as he cried like a fucking baby."

"Shut your whore fucking mouth!" Quinn lashed out, walking forward to push Sam, catching her off guard.

"Hands off, Quinn!" Bailey demanded loudly which seemed to set his psychotic daughter in place. "Before we get into that, we have something else that needs to be done first." It seemed all their attention fell on you. "Ethan, why don't you go take care of Y/N. Plant her body just where we discussed."

"No!" Tara yelled, attempting to head toward you but was stopped by Quinn, who stepped in front of her with her knife.

Sam pushed Quinn, causing an uproar as they tried to fight her but Bailey put their actions to a pause by facing the gun to their faces. They both shuddered and stopped fighting, having to watch you be dragged away.

"Go, Ethan," Bailey instructed.

"No, no, no," you heard Tara cry out until he pushed you inside the room and the door was shut, silencing all sound.

"God," Ethan groaned, dropping the act, even dropping his knife in the process as he rushed towards you, grabbing your face in his hands as he checked for any injuries. "I'm so sorry. Are you okay? They didn't touch you, right? I didn't mean anything I said; I promise. I hate this so much—"

"Ethan," you interrupted his rambling. "Hey, it's okay. I'm fine, I promise. I've been through worse."

Not wasting another second, he leaned down to pull you into a passionate kiss. Several emotions were coursing through you but once feeling his lips on yours, you felt yourself relax as if you two weren't on the verge of being potentially murdered by his fucked up family.

He couldn't pull away, afraid if he did, he would lose you so you had to be the one to do it—even if it hurt you to. "What's the next step?" you asked him.

"Faking your death," he told you casually. It almost made you want to laugh. "They're too indulged with Sam and Tara to pay attention to us. Besides, they can't hear much but I have to make this look quick."

You nodded, listening as he was about to get into what he wanted you to do next but the sound of footsteps caused you both to go rigid. When you looked past his shoulder, you felt relieved when you saw Kirby, miraculously still standing despite the amount of injuries she had endured, with her gun aimed at Ethan.

"Let her go," she instructed him.

"Kirby, wait," you interrupted, pushing him behind you so now her gun was facing you. "He's innocent."

"What? But I heard him. He killed Chad—"

"I didn't. I didn't hit any major arteries," Ethan defended himself.

"What are you talking about?" Kirby questioned.

"Ethan was Ghostface but he had to be in order to keep me safe so I offered to help him kill Bailey and Quinn for saving my life," you explained very vaguely, your words slurring together. "Please, you have to believe me. He would've done something to me by now if he wasn't."

Kirby took a second to process your words before she began to slowly drop her aim. "Okay. Okay, I believe you."

"Good," you thanked her, turning to Ethan. "What's next?"

"Down the hallway will lead you into the room where the back entrance is located. The plan for them is to make Sam understand what she's done before attempting to kill them both," he told you and Kirby, who had approached you two to watch your backs for any unwanted guests who would pop out. "Our backs will be facing you two and which gives you both the opportunity to get either of them because they won't see you coming."

"Okay." You nodded. "You got that, Kirby?"

"One step ahead of you," she responded.

"And this is for you." He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a large hunting knife. "For your protection."

You chuckled breathlessly, taking it from him as you looked up from the knife to him. "We got it from here," you assured him. "Go before they find you suspicious."

Ethan nodded, preparing to leave until he paused, leaning down to pull you back in for another kiss. You sighed into his lips, wanting nothing but to kiss him all day and not have to face the reality that lied outside the room.

"Wrap it up, lovebirds," Kirby said in impatience.

Ethan pulled away, his cheeks flushed red. "Be safe," he demanded more than said.

"You too," you told him, smiling.

He squeezed your hand, as if reassuring you, before he let you go and headed towards the door. He grabbed his knife, taking a second before finally leaving the room.

"Let's go, kid," Kirby demanded, already walking away which gave you no choice but to follow.

She took lead as she was the one with the gun, securing the place before gesturing for you to follow.

While stopped at a corner, her peeking past the wall to make sure it was clear, you couldn't help but question aloud to distract you from your thoughts. "How are you still alive?"

Kirby turned and gave you a look, as if saying 'right now really isn't the time'. You sucked in a breath and nodded, letting her go back to what she was doing.

When you both made it to the room Ethan was talking about, you found Chad propped up against a counter. He looked dazed, on the verge of passing out—or dying. You immediately ran to him, crouching to his level.

"Chad, hey? Can you hear me?" you asked stupidly, grabbing his face.

"…Y-Y/N?" His voice was quiet and weak.

"Yeah, it's me," you answered. "I need you to hold on just a little bit longer, okay? It's almost over with."

"I'm trying," he hissed through his teeth.

"Y/N, when should we make our move?" Kirby asked, making you look to see her peering through the window.

You rubbed Chad's arm reassuringly before getting up to look through the other one right beside her. You could see a video of Richie when he was younger playing on the projector, causing you to scoff.

Kirby glanced at you and back at the scene. "That's the fucker who got you guys last year, isn't it?"

You nodded, feeling angry. All the pent up emotions you forced yourself to swallow over the past year were resurfacing. "Let's get them now."

She nodded, opening the door very quietly. You put your finger to your lips, gesturing for her to stay silent as you crawled forward to the memorabilia. Kirby whispered a bundle of words but you didn't listen as you discreetly reached up at one of the cases, opening it and stealing the knife that was being displayed.

You had no idea who it belonged to previously but you needed to get it just in case Tara or Sam needed one.

When you crawled back to Kirby, she had a surprised mixed with disbelief look on her face. "What the hell?"

"I had to get one for Sam and Tara," you responded.

"Just get behind me," she instructed, which you followed because she was someone you didn't want to piss off.

Kirby took a moment of contemplation, preparing herself before she leaped out, shooting perfectly at Bailey. She had two shots in his stomach but was stopped from continuing as Quinn tackled her to the floor.

You jumped out from your spot, stabbing her straight in the back and throwing her off Kirby.

"Y/N?" Tara questioned, running toward you.

You gasped in surprise when you felt her body being thrown on you, her arms wrapping around your waist. You had pry her arms off of you. "Here, give this to Sam," you said, handing her the knife. "Kill that motherfucker."

"I thought Ethan killed you," she said sadly, tears in her eyes.

Before you could respond, you fell forward into Tara's arms as Quinn stabbed you in the middle of your back. She pulled it out and was prepared to land another one until Ethan shoved her back to the ground, keeping her in place by shoving his knife straight into her chest. At this, Tara looked extremely confused, helping you gain your balance.

You glanced behind your shoulder to see what she was looking at and groaned as you straightened your posture to help yourself stand. "He's on our side," you let out before you pushed her toward Sam. "Just go help Sam—hurry! I'll take care of Quinn."

Tara nodded, making sure you were okay before running back to where Sam was struggling to keep Bailey down.

You turned to help Kirby up from the floor. She dusted herself off and grabbed her gun. "Thanks."

Then you two hovered over Quinn, who was gasping for air as Ethan twisted the knife, causing her to gasp. He pulled it out, blood flying to coat his face as she winced loudly.

Kirby rose her gun, aiming it at her forehead but you stopped her before she could pull the trigger. "Wait."

"What?" Kirby asked, confused.

You didn't answer, leaning down instead to hover above her face as she struggled to move, let alone speak. Blood was spewing out of her mouth as she tried to say something, probably an insult of some kind.

You straddled her waist, gripping her hair as you brought her face close to yours. "Ready to die just like your brother?"

Quinn's eyes widened but she wasn't able to do much as your knife sliced her throat, causing blood to run out. You stood up, returning back to your spot between Ethan and Kirby, watching as she took her last breath. Her eyes fell motionless, staring at the ceiling.

You turned your head to look at Ethan. "You okay?"

Ethan glanced at you, nodding. "Yeah. She was always a terrible sister, anyway."

His response made you smile. Kirby watched the two of you with a smile of her own. "You two did good."

"So did you," you complimented.

She ruffled your hair, earning a smile from you.

A gunshot caused you three to jump, turning around, prepared to attack but became aware that it was from Sam. Tara had the knife in her hand, covered in Bailey's blood as Sam was the cause of the bullet between his eyes.

When you approached them, Sam flinched at the sound of footsteps and rose the gun.

"Hey, it's just us!" Kirby hollered.

Sam nodded until she furrowed her brows, turning her aim at Ethan. He widened his eyes in fear, raising his hands.

"No, wait!" you shouted, jumping in front of him like you had done with Kirby previously. "He's with us."

"What?" Sam questioned.

"It's true," Kirby confirmed, taking a spot next to you in order to shield him as well. "He was the one who told us what to do in order to save you guys."

"But your dad and sister—"

"Are insane," Ethan finished her sentence. "I wanted nothing to do with this. The only reason I helped was because they threatened to kill Y/N," he explained to them, making you reach to hold his hand to comfort him. "I'm sorry for what I've caused and not being able to stop them before we got to this point. I'm really sorry."

"Sorry won't bring back the people we lost," Sam told him.

"I know." He nodded sadly.

"Sam." Tara brought her hand up to force her sister's arm down, making her lower her aim. "He helped us and he saved Y/N. He could've just let us die."

"We don't have time for this," Kirby groaned in annoyance, sticking her gun back into her holster. "You have to get to Chad. I'll call for help."

"Chad?" Tara questioned.

Kirby nodded, leading her into the room where he was situated. She left you, Sam and Ethan alone for any further conversation that needed to be made as she went to go help Tara and call the police.

Sam sighed, dropping the gun. "I can't forgive you, Ethan but I'm sure as time goes by, I can find a way to. You mean a lot to Y/N and she means a lot to me. So, if she's able to trust you and then I am too," she told him, giving a brief smile until she turned serious. "But if you do anything to hurt her, I won't hesitate to—"

"Got it," he interrupted, nodding sternly.

"Good," Sam responded. "I'm glad you two are safe."

"I'm glad you are too," you told her sadly, walking forward to give her hug. "Don't believe anything they said, Sam. You aren't like your father."

"I know, Y/N/N," she whispered, caressing your head.

You heard soft chatter coming from outside the theater room, catching your attention. "It must be the police."

"Let's go," Sam told you both.

You nodded, letting her walk first as you grabbed Ethan's hand in yours. Before you two continued, you paused, turning to face him with a sad expression. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Ethan smiled, genuinely smiled, looking down from where you held his hand back into your eyes. "I will be because I got you and I couldn't be more thankful."

You grinned. As long as I got you.

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry x you #jack champion #scream imagine #scream vi imagine

841 notes · View notes