#i like being alone but she's been my lifeline

[astraystayyh]

Invisible thread- one

pairing : minho x reader

genre : university au, academic rivals to lovers (rivals not enemies because they respect each other), slow burn, fluff, angst.

warnings : reader has a very bad relationship with her mother, insecurities, talk about murder but as a joke, mention of alcohol, reader has she/her pronouns.

summary : Your studies were your lifeline for as long as you can remember. What happens when Minho comes into your life and rips it away from you?

word count : 20k

Author's note : I've been working on this fic on and off for the past two months, so if you do enjoy reading, please let me know. asks, comments, reblogs i read them all and they truly make me the happiest <3 (also i based this off my own college experience, where we study two terms and there is one person on top of the class every semester)

part two

You have always been first in your class.

Not because you particularly enjoyed studying. You simply felt that your worth was solely tied to the marks on your papers.

You never wanted to crumble under the pressure of studies, to hole yourself up in your room for an assignment you won’t remember in a month. But achieving good grades was the only way for you to feel seen; to make someone stop in their tracks and acknowledge you. 

A simple “good job” that you preserved inside your mind, as a reminder that you did exist to other people. Considering that the majority of your life was spent in silence. 

Your mom put a roof above your head and food on your table, but she never asked about your day, nor did she seem to care. You felt as though you were no more important to her than the tapestry hanging on your wall.

At times, you imagined that if you stood close enough to that tapestry, you could merge with it as one. The intricate embroidery would wrap around you and draw you in. And your mother wouldn’t notice. She would regard you with the same indifference she showed towards that textile- a mere decoration, at times a nuisance when she had to dust it.

You always ate your dinner alone. When you scraped your knee, you tended to the wound by yourself. No one attended your childhood musicals, and you patted your back when you cracked an egg without dropping a shell into the bowl. 

You’ve come to learn since your young age that all your milestones, both small and significant, would be celebrated alone. 

On the rare times your mother would acknowledge your presence, she’d unleash a flurry of criticism your way as if she was eagerly awaiting the opportunity to strike you down. She'd toss crude comments over her shoulder as easily as a casual hello, leaving you feeling battered and bruised in her wake. 

You felt as if you were shoreline rocks, and your mother was the ocean. You never knew if she would be like a gentle tide, barely brushing against you, or an enraged storm, mercilessly crashing down on your being. And you weren't sure which one was worse: to be invisible or to be seen and despised.  

That’s why you grew up plagued with self-doubt. You made friends throughout your school years but you never allowed them to get close enough to really see you -you feared that they might glimpse the very thing your mother seemed to despise in you. 

Throughout your childhood, you were like soft clay in your mother's hands- pliable, and easy to mold. And she indented you, everywhere, carved in edges and dips where they should not have been ones. Handled you roughly when you should have been treated with care. And as the years went by, you hardened- much like clay, but her touch remained imprinted upon you. It was difficult at times to discern who you were and who she made you to be.

You tried to start anew when you went away to university; to rewire your brain into believing that you were enough- you exist and you shouldn't prove to anyone that you deserved to be alive. But her words haunted you, they were like skeletons in your closet- but the closet was you. You could never part from them.

So, you fell back into the same pattern of seeking good grades and congratulatory words from your professors. Every A+ you got infused you with a momentary sense of worthiness.

But unlike in high school, you weren't always the best. Your competition came in the form of a single man named Minho, who seemed to excel in every class you shared.

Minho was mostly quiet, but whenever he spoke, you found that his words carried weight. Your professors consistently agreed with his points, and you envied the confidence he exuded. You wondered what it must feel like to be so sure of oneself.

It wasn't until a month into the year that you had your first interaction with Minho. You were in your Constitutional Law class when your professor Kim brought up the notion of ‘Separation of Powers’. You were arguing that judges shouldn’t be included in the writings of law when you heard a scoff from the row behind you. You turned around, raising a brow at the culprit, "Is there something you’d like to say?" you asked.

And in response, Minho smiled lazily, an air of smugness surrounding him, "I just don’t agree." The professor urged him to explain himself, so he leaned back into his chair, eyeing you. "Judges are the ones who practice the law every day, and sometimes they find that none of the written texts fit their case. If they get involved in lawmaking, they can help address those gaps or uncertainties." 

"Who's to say that those judges aren’t biased or politically motivated? They’ll end up writing laws to fit their own preferences," you pointed out, raising an eyebrow at him. "We elect judges to interpret and apply laws, not make them. If they start writing laws too, we'll be violating the separation of powers between the legislative and judicial branches. That's what keeps our entire system from crumbling."

Minho rested his chin on his hand, tapping his cheek thoughtfully with his index finger. "Aren’t legislators prone to biases too? Your point doesn’t stand then," he challenged, tilting his head to the side, "and judges can participate without going overboard. They can provide input on proposed laws without actually drafting them. That way, we ensure that the laws are crafted with a clear understanding of how they'll be put into practice." 

"If your main concern is to ensure that the laws are impartial, we have people who work as consulting experts whose job is exactly that," you flashed him an innocent smile, firing back. "Also, wouldn’t these overstepping branches put the judges in a position to be perceived in a bad light? Is that what you want?"

Before Minho could respond, Mr. Kim intervened, putting an end to your debate, "Let's save this energy for your essays and see who can convince me more."

You gave a quick nod, swiveling in your seat without a backward glance. However, you could sense Minho’s gaze penetrating through your back- as if he was trying to read your most intimate thoughts. 

That was the first thing you noticed about Minho when he walked over to you. His eyes were brown, not a special color by any means. But they held a certain depth to them that seemed to draw you in like a black hole. You weren't sure what you would find on the other side, nor did you have any desire to find out.

He outstretched his hands towards you, stopping you in your tracks. "Minho," he introduced and your hand met his in a firm grip. The second thing you noticed about him was the coldness of his hand, as it wrapped tightly around your palm. 

Suddenly you were taken back to when you built a snowman for the first and last time. You were just seven and the ice was freezing, numbing your fingers as you worked. Your mother never told you that you should’ve worn mittens, or a thick jacket to fight off the cold when she saw you walking out of the house. The memory of your cold hands and the horrible illness that followed still left a bitter taste in your mouth, like an unripe fruit. With a jolt you dropped his hand, forcefully pulling yourself away from that memory. 

"Yn," you said back, and he smiled to himself, repeating your name slowly, each syllable dripping from his tongue.  

"We'll see who'll write the best essay, right?" he asked, clearly challenging you. There was a gleam of excitement in his eyes that reminded you of a child gazing up at cotton candy. 

That was the third thing you noticed about Minho; how expressive his eyes were. They moved with his every word, punctuating them. 

He was infuriating but also amusing. You've never had a clear competitor in your life. Or maybe you had, but you didn't notice them. You were always so reclined on yourself, trying to survive the day, you didn't pay enough attention to your surroundings.

"You want to compete with me?" You asked, and he smirked, leaning against the door, arms crossed in front of his chest. "What? Scared you’d lose?"

"Please." You rolled your eyes at his taunting, "Don’t come crying when I win."

"We’ll see about that!" He shouted after you as you walked ahead, leaving him behind.

This essay was insignificant. A simple way for your professor to assess your knowledge and work approach. And yet, you found yourself staying up all night to complete it. There was no way you were going to let Minho take this one thing from you.

Who were you if not the best in your studies? You were deathly afraid to find out. 

Later on that week, the professor handed you your grade back, 98%. You turned around to show Minho your mark, and so did he. You surpassed him, only by mere percents. "I told you so," you smiled cheekily and he pouted, holding a hand to his heart as if your grade wounded him.

"I'll beat you next time", he mouthed and you chuckled, "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

✹✹✹

The first time you studied with Minho was in a cat café near campus, called Limbo, about two weeks after your initial interaction. You stumbled upon it serendipitously while strolling through your university town. You couldn’t study at home, since you were easily distracted in there, and the eerie silence of libraries often left you unsettled.

Limbo, however, offered the perfect middle-ground: it was calm, not overly crowded, and the buzzing of the coffee machine blended harmoniously with the occasional mewls of cats, which helped you concentrate better. 

You were sitting in a secluded corner table at the café's back, a sleeping black cat comfortably nestled in your lap when you sensed a shadow loom over you. You glanced up quickly to find Minho. He was clad in a grey hoodie sporting a bunny holding up its middle finger. You had to bite your cheek to suppress a grin at his clothing attire.

"What are you doing here?" He asked. 

"You know for someone smart you sure ask stupid questions," you remarked, already looking down at the papers scattered in front of you.

He huffed, taking a seat at the table right next to yours, "I can’t believe that of all places you’ve found this café to study in."

"My apologies, am I disturbing you, your highness?" You asked sarcastically, and in retort, Minho mimicked your words in a high-pitched tone. You threw the pillow right next to you at his head, and Minho swiftly ducked, easily avoiding it. He chuckled loudly while you glared at his laughing figure. That was the end of your conversation that day. 

From that moment forward, it became a routine for the two of you to study at Limbo, every Saturday, without fault. You didn’t explicitly plan on it, but it seemed that both of you found it comforting to work there. And you could also tell that, unlike you, it wasn’t Minho’s first time coming to Limbo. He was friends with the owner, a sweet middle-aged man who offered you pastries whenever you stayed there until closing. The cats seemed to know him too, they mewled at his feet whenever he entered and he always greeted them with a soft smile on his face. 

You didn’t talk much in those unofficial study sessions, the both of you were consumed by your own work. But you’d steal quick glances at him every now and then, the sight of him so concentrated only fueled you to work harder.

Admittedly, your competition left you feeling anxious for days on end at first. Each time Minho came out on top, you’d found yourself losing your grip. Your studies have been the one anchor keeping you afloat your entire life, and now, Minho was ripping it carelessly away from you. So, you resented him- you were human after all.

But then, you realized that Minho’s taunting wasn’t malicious. He wasn’t competing with you to hurt you, he was doing it for amusement only.

You've slowly started to learn that despite his relentless teasing, Minho had a gentle aura surrounding him. Glimpses of which occasionally emerged like rays of sunshine piercing through a thick cloud cover.

True, he chuckled when you accidentally bumped your head on the table while retrieving a fallen pen. Yet, you also noticed how he began to cover the table's corners with his hand whenever you bent down. He swiftly retracted his hand, seemingly believing you didn't notice, but you did.

During class presentations, he deliberately prepared challenging questions for you, urging you to study twice as hard to ensure no stone was left unturned. Yet, whenever the professor praised your performance, Minho offered a subtle thumbs-up as a gesture of support. He winked at you each time he got the right answer and you didn’t. However, when he noticed you struggling with a particular subject, he scooted closer and patiently explained it to you. He got up before you could thank him, swatting his arm in the air as if he didn’t do anything of significance. 

To show your appreciation, you bought him a drink that day he helped you—a simple gesture that sparked an ongoing game of "win a bet, get free food". You bet on who would receive the first mark on an assignment or who would finish an essay first- anything to further deepen the competition between you.

That's how you came to know that he loved puddings, among other things.

Curiously, as the months went by, your mind began to retain these little details about him. How his eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings when he blinked repeatedly during your conversations. How he glanced at the ceiling when lost in deep thought as if he was waiting for the answers to descend from the sky. Or how his lips take on the shape of an "o" while thinking of his response during one of your many debates. But you supposed that it was natural to take notice of such things when you spend countless Saturday afternoons with the same person.

You were still studying for someone else, in the sense that each time you stayed up working, it was solely to prove your worth to Minho. But at least unlike your mother, Minho's words never haunted you at night.

✹✹✹

Just like that, four months have gone by since you joined your university as a law major. It was nearing finals week and you were preparing it at Limbo. Minho was naturally present too, at his usual table right next to yours.

On the last weekend before the beginning of your finals, you were head-deep into your Criminal Law documents when Minho abruptly got up from his seat and settled in the chair in front of you.

"Yn," he whispers and you glance at him, "What?" 

"I have an idea."

"Keep it to yourself," you grin sarcastically, only for him to pick up your spoon and move it around in a threatening manner.

"Are you trying to scare me with a spoon?" you chuckle in disbelief.

 "Anything can be a weapon if you use enough force."

"Okay… that was creepy. What do you want?"

"The end of the first term is coming up. So, to celebrate our little rivalry-"

"It's not a rivalry if I’m always winning," you cut him off.

"Yeah, that’s why I have a fridge full of pudding."

"But-"

"Anyways, how about the top of the class takes the other out for dinner? A fancy one." He suggests, his gaze fixed on you.

"No, thank you. I already see you enough in classes."

"Didn’t think you wouldn’t up for a bet. Guess I was wrong," he remarks, a cheeky smile drawn on his lips. He knows you couldn’t possibly say no now.  

"Fine," you roll your eyes at his proud expression. "Prepare your wallet." 

"Mm, sure," he responds, before rising from his seat once more.

That day, you both lost track of time as you studied in Limbo until it closed down. When you finally stepped outside, stretching your tired limbs, you were met with the sight of falling snowflakes.

"Nooo, go away. I don't want to watch the first snow with you," Minho whines, referring to the superstition that watching the first snowfall with someone could spark love between the two of you. 

"As if I could ever love you," you laugh at the ridiculous idea, "that’d just be signing a death warrant."

You resume walking towards your apartment when suddenly something freezing and hard hits your back with enough force to make you stagger. Turning around slowly, you find Minho erupting in laughter, his body filled with uncontainable joy. He’s jumping and clapping excitedly, and for a fleeting moment, you can’t decide if your shock was from the impact or from how beautiful happiness looks on him. 

Snapping out of your daze, you swiftly retaliate by scooping up a handful of snow and hurling it at him. "Now you are cold too!" you shout, while he’s still laughing uncontrollably. 

Thus begins an impromptu snowball fight between the two of you. Unsurprisingly, you’re being competitive in this too, trying your best to strike each other before the other could recover. But Minho draws nearer to you, and in your desperation to win, you fall to the ground when he throws a snowball at your chest, gasping as if you’re in pain.

"Shit, did I hurt you?" Minho quickly kneels in front of you, concern evident in his voice. It surprises you for a moment- how worried he seems at the prospect of causing you pain.

But you shake that thought off and push him down to the ground, a proud smile on your face. In his fall, Minho instinctively reaches for you to steady himself, which ends up with you landing on top of him. Your faces are mere inches apart, and a soft gasp escapes your mouth at your sudden proximity.

Minho has a mole on his nose. You’ve never noticed that before. 

You quickly push yourself off of him, not enjoying being this close to somebody. "Why did you drag me down with you?" you grumble, shaking off the snow from your hair.

"Play stupid games, win stupid prizes," he cheekily stuck out his tongue, and you respond with the same childlike gesture before the both of you burst into loud laughter. The sound reverberates through your entire being, and it echoes in your mind long after the two of you go your separate ways.  

As you lay in bed that night, ready to drift off to sleep, a quiet realization dawns on you. This was the first time you've touched snow in since your childhood incident.

That unpleasant memory didn't cross your mind once. Instead, all you thought about was Minho’s infectious laughter, and the surprising warmth it stirred within you.

✹✹✹

You came first in your grade this semester.

True to his words, Minho texted you the name of the restaurant where you’d both meet to celebrate your win. As you got ready for your outing, you couldn’t help the nerves creeping up on you. Studying in silence next to Minho was something, going to a friendly dinner with him was another. You feared it would be too awkward and Minho would regret ever proposing such a thing.

So, as you sit in the refined BBQ restaurant waiting for him, you fidget with your hands, counting down to three in your head in an attempt to steady your breathing.

You were clearly not accustomed to existing with Minho outside of the confines of your studies.

"Did you wait long?" Minho asks as he finally pulls the chair in front of you and you shake your head no.

"Are you nervous?" he chuckles at your lack of words, and you frown, suddenly feeling defensive. "Why would I be nervous? This isn't a date."

"Who said anything about a date?" he smirks and you grab your fork threateningly, pointing it at him, "Don't say anything stupid or I will walk out."

"And stand me up on our first date? That's too mean.” He pouts, a hand on his heart and you can’t help but giggle at his antics. You were ridiculous for being nervous. This was Minho, the one person you’ve talked to the most since the start of this year. 

"What will you have?" he asks and you smile mischievously.

 "Most expensive thing on the menu."

"So you are only here for the food." 

"Well, it's certainly not for your company," you wink and he chuckles, his bunny teeth on full display. 

"And here I thought we were going to be civil with each other."

"When are we ever not?" you gasp dramatically and Minho swats your hand with the menu. "Just order whatever," you finally answer," I trust your food judgment."

"I could poison you, you know?" He smiles proudly and you roll your eyes at him, "Can’t you be normal, for once?"

Minho calls over the waiter and places your orders. The food is quick to arrive and Minho starts to grill up the meat, while you cut the Kimchi into smaller pieces. 

"Here," he puts the perfectly cooked rib onto your plate first and you smile at him, "Thank you."

"Eat up, don’t wait for me," he tells you and you nod, tasting the flavorful meat.

"Wow this is really good," you compliment and he smirks proudly at your words, "I know."

Minho places four other ribs for you, without eating one himself. You start to feel bad, so you grab his chopsticks, pick up the meat, and move it toward his mouth, "Open up."

"What?" He asks confused and you wave the food in front of his face, "Come on, you haven’t eaten anything."

Minho parts his lips slowly, and you feed the tender meat to him, before eating one yourself. You notice how his cheeks are slightly tinted pink now, and you account it to the intense heat of the grill.

"Oh, let's not talk about studies, my brain can't take another debate with you," you tell Minho in between bites and he grins at you, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. "If you were to dispose of a body, how would you do it?"

"I think our next celebration will be in an asylum." you smile too sweetly at him and he stares at you pointedly, "Please, I know you've already thought about it."

"Fine. Probably in a deserted land. What about you?"

"I'd cut their bodies and then bury each part in a different forest. In a different city."

His answer came too quickly, and you pause in your tracks, "Should I be worried?"

"You are too cute to kill." His tone is sarcastic and you make a show of gushing at his compliment, clasping both of your hands in front of your heart, "Growing soft on me, Minho?" 

"Yeah, I’m basically sooo in love with you," he replies with a smirk and you roll your eyes at him, an amused smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"What's your favorite color?" you finally ask, changing the subject.

"Purple."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"You'll buy me purple flowers?" He coos at you and you shake your head as you grab the utensil from his hand, to grill the meat your turn. 

"No. I'll paint your tombstone purple," you grin and he laughs loudly, eyes squinted close, and you can't find it in you to care that the people next to you are staring. 

"What's yours?" he asks when he calms down and you shrug, "Navy blue, I think."

"You do remind me of navy blue."

"And why is that?"

"When you look at it, at first glance, it looks like black. But the more you stare at it, the more layers you uncover. Just like you. There’s more to you than what meets the eye."

You grab your glass of water, gulping it down to hide the way your eyes just glossed over. You suddenly felt bare in front of Minho. How did he know?

You clear your throat, racking your brain for a way to move on from that question. "If you were to describe colors to a blind person, how would you do it?"

"Mm," he looks up at the ceiling as he mulls over your question, "I’d say that yellow is the feeling of eating ice cream on a sunny day, in an amusement park. Your fingers are sticky but your cheeks ache from how much you smiled that day."

"Yellow is carefree and happy."

"Exact. Now your turn, red."

"I’d say that... Red is the thrill that rushes through your veins when you do something you are passionate about, you know? It’s what makes our blood boil and our heart race. The very essence of our humanity."

Minho smiles softly at your words, seemingly agreeing with your description. "Don’t you think it would be easier if we simply asked, what color are you feeling today, instead of a 'How are you'?" He questions and you tilt your head to the side, "What do you mean?"

"Well, you could say, I feel like that moss green that no one seems to pay attention to. Or, I feel bright yellow as if the world's energy is stored inside me."

"And right now, how do you feel?"

"I feel orange, not the ugly orange." He precises and you chuckle, "the orange that paints the sky when the sun is about to dip into the ocean."

"A bittersweet orange, an ending that instantly strings along a new beginning. And you don't have time to rest."

Minho places his chin on his palm, eyeing you curiously, "Is that what you want? To rest?"

"Yeah." You admit quietly, "Don't you sometimes wish that the world would just stop, for a few seconds? Just like in a song, right before the beat drops. That silence, I wish I could live inside of it."

"I do too."

You both hold each other’s gaze for a while after that. You felt as if he was keeping you captive with his brown eyes, and he was slowly peeling each of your layers, in silence, as you were peeling his. For the first time, you think that you and he are similar, more than on a studies level. There was a part of his soul that understood yours perfectly. And it felt good, to be understood, for once.

"If you lived in this silence, what would you be doing?" he asks, breaking the serene quiet that surrounded you.

"I’d open a café that had books. And there'd be a little space, where people could paint. Or do pottery. And I’d have cats in there too." You reply excitedly, hands moving around in the air, you end up missing the way Minho gazes fondly at you before his smile morphs into a smirk.

"Please tell me you won't be cooking."

"Shut up. What about you?"

"I’d be a dancer."

"You dance?!" you whisper-shout and he frowns at the surprised look on your face. 

"Yeah. Why are you looking at me like this?"

"I just never expected it. Can I-"

"No." he cuts you off immediately and you pout. 

"I didn't even finish."

"I knew what you were going to say."

"Please, I won't make a sound I’d just watch. Pinky promise.” He grabs your now outstretched pinky with the tip of his index and thumb, lowering it down. 

"I’d only grant you this wish when you’re on your deathbed."

"Bold of you to assume you'd still be around."

"Death might be around the corner."

"Stop it."

"Close your door tonight."

"You are deranged."

Minho chuckles at the crestfallen look on your face, "I’ll think about it."

Just like that, three hours of talking have gone by, the conversation flowing easily between the two of you. And when you finally leave the restaurant, Minho grabs you a cab and you wave him off with a smile. You couldn't lie to yourself, you had a really good time with him. You liked to think that Minho was no longer just a rival, but a possible friend.

But now that you were laying in your bed, you couldn’t help but curse Minho in your brain. His repetitive talk about murder made you paranoid, and now every creak in your apartment made you feel as if death was really right around the corner. 

You decide to text him, figuring that if you couldn’t sleep because of him, you could at least disturb him for a bit. 

Yn : I hate you I'm paranoid from your murder talk

Minho : Poor baby

Yn : Is that you at my door?

Suddenly your phone rings, the shrill sound echoing around your apartment. It was a Facetime call from Minho. You panic for a few seconds, before remembering that you just spent your entire night with him. A call can’t be more daunting than a real-life meeting. 

"See, I’m in my home," he tells you as soon as you pick up and you laugh.

"It's pitch black, I can't see."

"Just say you miss my face." You can’t see him but you can clearly hear the proud grin in his voice. 

"What's there to miss?"

"Are you actually scared?" Minho asks gently and you clear your throat, feeling ridiculous all of the sudden. 

"There is a tree right outside my window and it keeps rustling from the wind," you grumble and Minho laughs at you. 

"Trees can't hurt you."

"No shit Sherlock."

"Close your eyes.” He instructs and you frown at his words. 

"Why?"

"I’ll tell you a story."

"Fine.” You close your eyes tentatively. It’s quiet for a few seconds and you feel yourself relax slightly. 

"So, I bought a sous-vide machine and-"

"Is your bedtime story going to be about meat?"

"Yes?” He replies as if it’s an evidence, “Now be quiet." You pretend to zip your mouth and Minho faintly giggles, before resuming his story. "So, I was saying. I bought one and I wanted to experience different kinds of meats. So, I bought a 30-day aged one and a 58-day aged one and I cooked them both."

"What did you use?" you ask quietly. 

"Just garlic, and thyme, I didn't want to overpower the taste of meat. Anyways I cooked them, but I didn't have plastic bags so I had to go out and buy them."

"Mm," you hum in acknowledgment. You could feel your nerves slowly dissipate with Minho's every word. His story might be ridiculous but his honey-coated voice compensated for it, wrapping around you like a protective cocoon. 

"And I found pudding there so I had to buy it."

"Obviously," you whisper. Sleep was knocking on your door, but paradoxically you tried to fight it off. You wanted to hear the rest of Minho’s story. 

"And I went back home and I cooked it, then I plated it nicely with vegetables that I sauteed with butter and garlic. Just mushrooms and potatoes, nothing too fancy. Again, my main focus was the meat. But there wasn't a difference between the two. They tasted the same for me, for some reason. And I didn't like this because the aged one was very expensive. Maybe I was scammed. Honestly, that butcher looked kind of suspicio..."

Your quiet snores make Minho pause in his tracks, and he laughs quietly. You did end up falling asleep. He can't see your face clearly, but he can see its outline and he stares at you for a while. You look peaceful.

He goes to hang up but his finger hovers over the 'end call' button. You aren't talking, but your hums are quiet enough that they fill up the space around him. It calms him down, and he lets his head fall on the pillow, his phone lying beside him.

He closes his eyes, thinking that maybe he just found the silence you talked about earlier on. 

You just made his world stop.

✹✹✹

The second semester had just started and with it the return of frat parties. You were excited at the prospect of going to one with your new friend Mina. You met her in the library when you both went to grab the same book. You quickly apologized but she waved you off, handing you the book with a huge smile on her face. She was bubbly, like a human serotonin boost, and she started gushing about how much she loved the author. You saw her again in the campus cafeteria, and she skipped towards you as if you've both known each other your entire life. That was the start of your friendship.

You walk into the frat house, both your arms encircling each other. The flashing lights of the party blind you for a moment, and it takes you a while to adjust to the loud music bouncing off of the walls. But you like it, it was like a shield from the outside world and its problems. 

You feel yourself letting loose in the crowd, swaying your hips to the music. Mina spins you around and you laugh, dancing with no care in the world. It was just the both of you in that instant. 

Mina spots Jeongin in the crowd, a friend of hers that she had an immense crush on. You couldn’t blame her- he was very attractive; his easy smirk and his blonde tousled hair earned him lots of appreciative looks from the people around him. But when his eyes locked with Mina’s, you found that his face morphed into a beautiful smile, that made his dimples look on full display, as if it was only reserved for her.

“Go get your man!” You shout in her ears, so she’d be able to hear you. 

“What are you talking about?” She yells back, but you could see the nervous smile on her face.

“He likes you! Go talk to him!”

“I don’t want to leave you alone. We came together!” She clasps your hand in hers and you smile touched by her kind spirit.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll go to the kitchen to get some drinks. Go have fun!”

“You are sure?” She asks, her eyes darting between you and Jeongin, who was still looking at her, and her only. 

“Yes! Go!” You say, gently pushing her away. Mina jogs up to Jeongin who greets her with a side hug. He quickly glances at you and you shoot him a thumbs-up, to which he grins. You loved playing Cupid.

With that, you decide to head to the kitchen to grab a drink. You pick a beer from the fridge, double-checking if the can is closed before opening it. 

You lean on the countertop, sipping on your drink while you watch the crowd, humming along each time a song you knew played. You enjoyed watching people dance freely from afar, with no apparent care in the world.

You feel someone stand next to you and you brace yourself, getting ready to tell the person off if they decide to bother you. You didn’t have the energy for mindless flirting. But then, you smell the cologne that has lingered around you for the past term- Minho. You haven't seen him since your dinner. That was a month ago.

"Fancy seeing you here," he greets as he leans on the counter right next to you, his eyes fixated on the mingling bodies.

You turn around to face him, faking an outraged gasp, "Are you following me?"

"Mmm. You look nice", he compliments and you smile cheekily, "I know."

"Won't tell me I look nice too?" he smirks, leaning closer to your face. "Someone didn’t get enough compliments tonight?" You pout, placing a hand on your heart in mock concern.

"I did, but I want to hear it from you. You’re the only sensible person in this room."

"You look nice. Now leave me alone."

"Come on, I know you can do better than that", he jokes and you roll your eyes, muttering “You’re annoying”, under your breath.

Still, you comply, placing your arms on top of the counter and leaning your head on them to get a better look at him. He does the same, smiling, and you both stare at each other for a while after that.

The strobing lights dance on Minho’s face, casting enticing shadows on him. You've always known he was a beautiful man; you've looked into his eyes far too many times in your heated conversations. But this time was different, there was no cheeky smirk on his face nor a furrow in his eyebrows. He was simply looking at you, and it made a pool of warmth huddle in your belly. You feel yourself relax under his gaze, everything around you seemingly melts away.

You weren’t wrong when you thought that his eyes were like a black hole, pulling you in. But this time, you realize that you didn’t mind knowing what was on the other side. On the contrary, you longed for it. 

"I like your eyes right now. They remind me of the night sky. Black, with tiny little stars littered in them," you finally say.

Minho is taken aback by your words, he wasn't expecting you to compliment him, let alone to tell him something so special. He can feel his cheeks burn red at your words, feel his heart hammering in his chest. He's afraid you can hear it too.

He doesn't know what to say, so instead he clears his throat, plastering a smirk on his face, "I heard better." He hasn't. This is the first genuine compliment he's ever gotten.

"Oh, fuck off," you laugh and he joins you. The music was loud and yet the only sound his ear seemed to pick up was your laugh.

"Are you here alone?" He asks, and you shake your head no, "Came with my friend Mina."

"Did she leave you by yourself?" He frowns and you feel yourself warm up at his worried tone. "I told her to go talk to Jeongin."

"Next time, don’t stay alone."

“Fine, Dad.” You chastise and he stares pointedly at you, "I’m serious, yn."

You take another swing of the beer before turning your body fully towards Minho. After a few beats of silence, you finally ask a question that has been on your mind for a while. "Why do you say my name this way?"

"What way?" He questions and you shrug, "Slowly. People used to always rush it but you don’t."

"Well, it’s a pretty name. It deserves to be pronounced as a whole."

You beam at his words; you smile so brightly it makes his heart skip a beat. This is the first time you’ve grinned this widely at him, no hand in front of your mouth as if to hide it. He did notice how you were a reserved person outside of class, as if you were afraid of taking up too much place. But he could tell you were slowly unraveling, growing bolder with each passing month. He wanted to tell you that if people like you spoke more, the world would be a far better place. 

But he couldn't bring himself to say all of this, so he forced those bubbling words down his throat. "I’m hungry," he whines instead and you laugh at his pout. "I'm kind of craving a greasy pizza."

"Should we go buy it? You can tell Mina to come so we can walk her back."

"I’ll ask her."

You shoot Mina a text, asking her where she was and telling her about your plan. She replies that she’s with Jeongin who just offered to take her home, so you could leave without her.

"We can go." You tell him and he nods. Minho shrugs his leather jacket off, gently placing it on your shoulders. His warmth engulfs you and you sink further into it. His arm hovers around your shoulder not touching you as he leads you out of the party. He has never touched your body, you note, it's like he was everywhere and nowhere at once.

You both walk to an open parlor near the frat house, and you order a Margarita pizza to share. You sit down on a nearby bench to eat it- the night breeze too liberating to pass up on.

As you both finish eating, a cat with white and orange stripes all over her body approaches the both of you cautiously, and you pat her head softly. "Aren't you the cutest thing ever?" you coo and Minho chuckles as he scratches the cat’s chin. She purrs at his touch appreciatively, and you smile at the soft look on his face. 

"Never knew you to be this gentle", you giggle and Minho shushes you, "Let's not do this in front of the cat."

"Why are you acting as if we are a divorced couple and she’s our child."

"Easy, yn. You make it sound as if you want me to marry you."

"Now you're just projecting," you chastise and he laughs, eliciting giggles from you. He had a melodic laugh, you noticed, and you always felt a surge of pride whenever you made him close his eyes and tip his head from laughter. You felt as if it's a sight only you can see.

"I have three cats", he says softly and you gasp, "Really? We spent all of our Sundays in a cat café and this is when you tell me?"

"I only tell my friends."

"So we're friends now?" You gush and he rolls his eyes at you, "I take it back."

"What’s their names?" You ask curiously and his eyes soften at your question- you could easily tell he loved them dearly.

"Soongie, Doongie, and Dori. They are rescues."

"That’s very sweet of you Minho."

"Most of my scars come from them though," he chuckles but you sober up at his words, quietly scratching the cat's ears.

"What’s on your mind?" He asks and you glance at him. It was scary how well he’s starting to know you. But it was also nice; to be known is to exist, after all.

"I just... Sometimes I wish that memories would leave physical scars on you. Because at least then, you could treat them, put a band-aid on, and watch them fade away day by day. Because when the scars are emotional, you can’t treat them, you know? And someday someone brings up a name or a place, or you smell a certain scent, and suddenly they reopen as if no time has gone by at all.”

Minho stays silent for a while, mulling over your words. You don't mind, you weren't expecting him to comfort you. You just needed to free those words from the mental prison you've held them in for so long.

"Do you know Kintsugi?" he finally asks and you shake your head no.

"It's a Japanese art. They put back together broken vases with molten gold. It represents strength despite our flaws."

"That sounds nice," you sigh wistfully and he nods. 

"It is. When you look at that vase, you know that it was once broken, but it doesn't take away from its beauty, on the contrary, it adds to it. Scars, whether they are emotional or physical are there for a reason. They remind us of how we pushed through whatever life threw at us."

"Am I supposed to be grateful I survived this?" You chuckle lowly, as your hand scratches the cat’s ear. Your fingers brush against Minho’s and you hesitate for a few seconds before moving them away.

"I wouldn't say grateful for what you went through," he speaks once again, "but grateful to yourself. At the end of the day, the reason why you're still here is you. You put yourself back together," he then bumps his elbow into your side softly, "and hey, even if your scars reopen there will come a time when they wouldn’t anymore. Sometimes, it takes a while to be okay again."

This was Minho’s way of telling you that someday it wouldn’t hurt anymore. That someday you’d be okay. And you needed to hear that. You needed to hear someone else other than yourself tell you that.

"Thank you, Minho, I needed that", you smile at him and he grins back at you before his smile turns to a smirk. "I charge 15 dollars for the hour by the way."

"Oh, come on! You didn't even say something revolutionary." You are lying. Minho's words will echo in your mind long after this night- a beacon of light to hold onto.

"Oh, so now it’s no longer ‘I needed that’. Tsk," he jokes a smirk still plastered on his face.

"Okay, Mr. Therapist. I’ll pay for your coffee tomorrow, sounds good?"

"I should have you as my client more often," he winks and you laugh, head tipped back. You were grateful more than ever for his teasing, loving how it wasn’t awkward between you after your discussion.

"You are a good listener." You tell him as you stand up, dusting your pants.

"I’m good at everything," he grins cheekily at you and you roll your eyes playfully, "And here I thought we were having a moment."

You both start walking side by side toward your home when Minho speaks again. His tone is quiet as if he wasn’t sure he wanted you to hear him. "About earlier, your compliment, I mean. I suppose I didn't thank you. So, thank you," he scratches the tip of his ears and you shrug nonchalantly. "It's the truth. You might get on my ass but that doesn't change the fact you are a pretty man."

He doesn’t respond and you tug at the sleeve of his shirt playfully, "You won't tell me I’m pretty too?"

"But then I’d be lying."

"Asshole."

"Pretty," he replies without missing a beat.

You laugh loudly, hand tightly clutching your stomach and he joins you. There is a newfound lightness in your steps now. Unbeknownst to him, Minho just managed to lift a small weight off your shoulders, allowing you a brief moment of respite.

"This is me," you say when you arrive in front of your apartment block, "Thank you for walking me home."

"Of course. Don't dream of me."

"Idiot," you laugh waving him off and he does the same. "Oh, and text me when you get home safely!" you shout before heading inside.

For the second time this night, Minho is blushing profusely at your words. He sighs to himself, waiting patiently until a light turns on in your place to leave.

✹✹✹

It’s been two months since the start of the new term. You still went to Limbo, every Saturday with Minho- even when you didn’t need to study. 

Sometimes you’d just grab a book and you’d both read, a cat lazily lounging at your feet. You started sitting at the same table too; you figured it was easier since one of you always pays for the other. When you have a bet, but also randomly, when you notice that the other person is feeling down and you want to cheer them up without saying anything.

That's why you bought three bubble teas for Minho in a row. He was quieter these days, you noticed. He didn’t talk to you nor did he retort back in class. It was the first time you’ve seen him this way. As if he was a simple shell of the person he usually is. 

You were walking out of your Communications Strategies class, which Minho weirdly didn’t come to when you realized that it was pouring rain. You smile lightly to yourself, grateful since you thought about picking up an umbrella this morning. 

As you walk through campus, everyone around you running to take shelter, you spot someone sitting on a bench, completely drenched from the rain. Their head is hung low and you frown to yourself. They would surely get a cold if they stay there.

But then the person raises their head and you quickly realize it's Minho. You jog up to him instinctively, standing in front of him and shielding him from the rain with your umbrella.

He looks up at you and you feel your heart clench. His eyes are void of emotion and he stares blankly at you. "Are you okay?" you ask and he blinks at your words, as if his brain hadn't yet registered that you were there.

"Yeah."

"You don't look like it", you tilt your head to the side and he looks down again. You have to strain to hear his next words, muffled by the rain and his mumbling, "I don't want to talk, yn."

You decide to put away your umbrella and sit down next to him on the bench. The rain falls rapidly on both of you, and you feel yourself grow cold from it. 

"What are you doing?" He questions, turning to the side to look at you.

"Enjoying the rain. It is kind of stupid that we have umbrellas, right?"

"You'll catch a cold."

"I mean we always complain about the drought and then when it rains, we hide from it. But it's really beautiful."          

"Stop, I don't want you to get sick."

"Well, neither do I. Let's go eat some soup. My treat."

"Yn, I don’t-"

"I thought you were smart enough to know I won't take no for an answer."

"But I-" you cut him off again. "Also, I’m doing this for me because when you order for two, they give you a lot of side dishes. Now come on."

You stand up and he looks doubtfully at you, before following suit. You open up the umbrella again and hold it over both of your heads. He has to huddle close to you, and your shoulders brush against each other. Once, twice. Not that you're keeping count. But your body is always hyper-aware of Minho’s proximity. You also notice how he silently moves from your right to your left, this way he's the one walking right next to the speeding cars. Your hold on the umbrella tightens. You were still not used to those small attentions of his. 

You arrive in front of your apartment block and he hesitates. "Come up, I won't murder you I promise." You joke and he smiles lightly back at your words. Progress.

He enters your dorm and you can see him eying his surroundings. You know that if it was another time, he would have teased you about something- anything. But he stays quiet, and you find yourself missing the sound of his voice.

"Would you like to shower?" You offer and he nods, "Please."

You lead him to your bathroom and show him where the washing machine is. "Put your clothes in there for a quick wash and dry. You can shower meanwhile."

He nods again as you hand him a towel. "I'll be outside."

You quickly leave the bathroom to place the soup orders, and Minho discards his wet clothes, walking into your shower. The water is piping hot, and he leans his forehead on the cold tiles. He doesn’t move for the first ten minutes, too tired at the prospect of lifting his limbs.

Nothing particular happened. But he’d go through days when he’d quiet down because everything around him was too much. The feel of his clothes against his skin, and the sun streaming through his curtains. But it always passes. Minho was a realistic man and he knew that his emotions would regulate themselves. That’s why he didn’t like appearing vulnerable in front of other people.

But for some reason, he didn’t mind lowering his guard with you. He knew you wouldn’t judge.

He sighs, grabbing your cherry-scented shampoo and pouring it into his hands. He can clearly smell you now. The scent of your hair that always tickles his nose, whenever you are sitting close to him. Your body wash is next and he wonders if this is how your skin smells, like vanilla and jasmine, and something entirely you. 

Forty minutes later, Minho finally steps out of the shower. His clothes are clean and he quickly puts them on. He dries his hair with the towel as he walks out of your bathroom towards the living room. 

He finds you sitting on the ground, in front of a heater that looks close to giving up. He makes a mental note of giving you the one he has since he doesn't really use it. You changed out of your clothes too, and you are now wearing a pair of pajamas with little bunnies sewn into it. The sight almost manages to make him smile. 

"Still cold?" you question when you notice him standing behind you, unmoving, and he shakes his head no.

"Good, the soup is here." You say cheerfully, pointing at the steaming bowls sitting on your table. Minho hums in reply and you stand up, grabbing the towel from his hands to place it on the drying rack.

You come back, a soft green blanket in your hands. You sit on the couch and pat the spot beside you. Minho sits next to you, and you lay the blanket on both of your laps, before handing him his soup.

You start the show you’ve been last watching, as you both eat in silence, your legs crisscrossed. You make some comments throughout the episodes. You figured that it was a safe territory, to talk about something as mundane as this. He didn't reply but you didn't mind. You weren't here to have a conversation with him. You just wanted to distract him.

You realize at that moment that Minho always looked so put together to you. But he had problems of his own too. That much was obvious. It made you feel closer to him, in a sense. You were both just trying to make it through the day.

Two hours later, you get up to grab a book, handing Minho the remote to put on a show of his own. You curl in a ball in the corner, reading where you left off last night.

"Can you... Can you read out loud?" Minho speaks for the first time in a while and you look at him. His eyes are closed, his head resting against your couch.

"Sure."

You start to read, and Minho further sinks into the couch. He feels at home here. Because the blanket is soft and the light is dim enough to not hurt his eyes. Or it could be that he smells like you, a scent so comforting he wants to bury himself in it. Or maybe it's your voice that floats through the air, slowly clouding Minho’s every sense. He feels as if he could see the words you were pronouncing dancing in front of his eyes. You enunciated each syllable clearly, making sure that no sound was forgotten.

As Minho gently drifted to sleep, he felt as if he was part of the words you read out loud. He felt as if you were treating him with the same care, making sure that he knew he wasn't invisible. At least not to you.

When you wake up the next morning, Minho is gone. And his place beside you on the couch is empty. He made you breakfast, scrambled eggs, and freshly pressed orange juice. And right next to it you find a note, "Thank you for reading to me."

✹✹✹

Minho didn't believe in having a lot of friends. He was content with the two people he had, Chan and Changbin. The latter was his high school friend, he skipped a year and ended up being in the same class as Minho. They didn't talk at first until the day Changbin dropped a book on Minho's foot. The brooding man started apologizing profusely, and that was the start of their friendship. They've kept in touch since.

Chan was his roommate at university. It's not that he particularly wanted to befriend him, but Chan was a social butterfly and he quickly managed to pull Minho into his friendly trap. He annoys Minho the most, but in an endearing way. And although Chan is older, Minho still strangely developed a soft spot for him. 

And he supposes he has you too now. At first, you weren’t friends, rivals at most. He enjoyed reeling you up and having you frown at his words in your heated debates. He also liked talking to you, because your ideas were interesting and you always gave him a new fresh perceptive to see things.

That’s how he strictly saw you as, an intelligent human who he liked to debate with.

But then he started to look forward to meeting up with you at Limbo. He no longer minded the fact that you took his self-assigned table, from his high school days. And he laughed more freely with you, enjoying how you always had a witty retort sitting at the tip of your tongue. 

That’s how he started to notice things that friends most definitely notice. How you have a charm bracelet you always fidget with whenever you are nervous. How you stray away from physical touch. How you scratch your eyebrow when you are deep in thought.

But also, how you seem to have an obsession with cherries. Your cherry pendant, your cherry-scented shampoo, and your cherry-tainted lips. A friend would most certainly think that your lips are like red wine-stained glass.

He remembers one of the many times when you were at Limbo, and he saw you reapply your lip tint, or so you called it. You caught him looking and he swiftly averted his gaze, but it wasn't quick enough. Suddenly you were in front of him, a tiny red bottle in hand.

"Let me apply it to you," you smiled and he pushed your head away with his pointer finger. "No."

"Please," you pouted and he couldn't help but find you adorable. You sometimes reminded him of a small kitten. But he didn’t dare to call you by that nickname. 

"Never."

"If I score more than you in our environmental assignment then I will do it."

"Fine." he huffed so that you'd leave him alone.

Minho didn't study for that assignment. He blamed it on a headache, not that it's ever stopped him before. And two weeks later you were in front of him, eyebrows scrunched in concentration. You applied the lip tint gently on his plump lips, carefully tracing over his cupid bow. 

Your face was mere inches away from his and he noticed how you were wearing a gloss today, for change. It was shimmering under the lights and he usually didn't like glittery things, but he couldn't take his eyes off your lips. 

"All done!" you clapped excitedly, snapping him out of his haze. You then shove your phone camera into his face so he'd look at the results.

"You should be a model. Your face is perfectly sculpted," you comment nonchalantly, before sitting back in your seat. 

“I know.” He replies confidently, but his hand kept fiddling with the tip of his now pink ears. He couldn't concentrate for the rest of the night.

You were his friend because he always worried if you were eating enough. That’s why he urged you to grab a bite in the convenience store near Limbo, whenever you finished up your studying late.

This was one of the many times you sat on the minuscule table outside, hot ramen bowls in front of the both of you. Minho huffed in annoyance between each bite, his bangs were getting longer, disturbing him when he leaned down to slurp his noodles. 

“Here,” you stand up from your place, a hair tie in your hands. 

“What are you doing?” He questions as you stand behind him. You don’t reply, silently grabbing his hair and putting it up in a tiny ponytail, this way it wouldn’t get in his eyes anymore.

“Voila,” you sit back down, resuming your eating. Minho was grateful for the dimly lit street because his entire face was burning up. Your fingers in his hair were gentle and he wondered how it would feel if you ran your fingers through it. 

This was something friends think about, right? 

"I’ll cut my hair tomorrow," he clears his throat. He didn't know why he told you. You certainly weren't interested in his hair endeavors.

"What?!" you yell, "Don't. Your hair is beautiful why would you cut it?"

"Because it's getting longer."

"But it suits you."

Minho also noticed how you always threw compliments his way. Not in a flirtatious way, but in a genuine one. He couldn't help but wonder what made you this way. Did you so freely give love to others because you knew how it felt to not receive it?

"I’ll still cut it."

Minho returned home; his hair still clipped back in a ponytail. Chan eyed him weirdly but he shut him off with a glare. The elastic remained at his bedside since.

He didn't cut his hair.

The moment Minho started to consider you a close friend, was when you invited him over to watch your show. You didn’t force him to open up that night, and he appreciated it, more than he let on.

That's how a week later, he finds himself walking towards your dorm again. The thoughts in his head got too much, and Chan was immersed in his makeshift studio, which meant he won't be free for the next four hours, minimum.

He didn't plan on going to you. It was late at night and you were probably asleep, but his feet naturally led him to the direction of your place.

He knocks softly on your door. He wasn't even sure if he wanted you to open. What would you think of him showing up at eleven pm? He should have thought this thro-

"Minho?" you call out, and he startles a bit, his feet already inching away from the door.

"This was a bad idea, I'm sorry," he starts to retract back but you grab the hem of his jacket to stop him. "Do you... Do you want to watch my show with me?" you ask, a soft smile on your face and he nods tentatively.

"Okay, come in," you open the door wider and Minho follows you inside. The look in his eyes reminds you of the day you found him sitting under the rain. You didn't like it, you wanted him to find his spark back, his usual demeanor. He wasn't deserving of anything but happiness.

"I’ve started a new show, this one's a bit more romantic, so don't go around imagining me as the main character," you tease and he scoffs at your words, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He doesn't reply, but you don't mind. There was this secret agreement between the two of you, you would talk and he would listen. He needed the distraction, and you needed the company. Sometimes the line between alone and lonely blurs, and on days like these, Minho’s presence fills the void inside.

You comment on the scenes and Minho hums in reply, you watch three episodes in a row, and your eyes are getting drowsy, so you close them.

"Minho," you call out gently and he turns his head towards you.

"Yeah?"

"What color are you feeling tonight?" You ask, referencing to what he told you on your dinner celebration. That felt like an eternity ago.

"Black." You stay silent and Minho fidgets with his hands before speaking once again. "I feel a lot at the same time, too much of every color. That's why- that's why I said black."

"How can I help you feel yellow?"

"You already do." His admission came softly and it made your breath hitch in your throat. You wanted to open your eyes and look at him, but you figured it will only make him close off even more.

“Okay. Will you stay for breakfast?”, you whisper. You were very sleepy, the soft chatter of the TV and your hushed conversation were like a lullaby to you. 

"You want me to?" he asks, and he sounds so vulnerable you can't find it in you to say anything but the truth.

"I do," you admit, and that's the last thing you remember before sleeping.

Your head falls near Minho’s lap on the couch, your hair tickling his exposed thigh. Minho shouldn’t feel this way, he thinks. He’s sitting on the leather couch and his feet are touching the cold floor and yet all he can feel is three strands of your hair tickling him.

He glances at you, at your now parted lips and your relaxed eyebrows. His hand hovers over your hair, but then he curls it into a tight fist. What is he doing? He thinks to himself as he drags an angry hand through his face. He sighs, before standing up and grabbing the blanket you had on the opposing chair. He gently lays it on your body before sitting next to you once again. 

You told him to stay for breakfast. He’ll stay.

✹✹✹

2 months later

"Yn!" Minho shouts in your ear as he plops down next to you. You startle, dropping the book you were reading. 

"I hate you," you grumble, picking up your book and he smiles cheekily at you, "No you don't."

You were laying on the grass of your campus garden, in between two classes, trying to kill the time. It was April so the weather was perfect for lying under the warm sunrays. You loved spring, it always held within it the promise of a better time. 

"What are you doing?"

"I was reading before you got here and started to annoy me." 

"Don't mind me. Do your thing." 

"And what are you doing?"

"Enjoying the sun."

"You couldn't find any other place to do so?"

"Nope."

"You're annoying" You try to sound mad but the smile on your face betrays you. You started looking forward to any moment Minho randomly shows up throughout your day. Sometimes it's late at night when he's suddenly craving sushi and he drags you with him because if he's not studying then you shouldn't be too. 

Sometimes it's during the day, when he takes you to a new garden where he found the quote "cutest cats in existence". Not as cute as his cats, of course. 

Sometimes it's late afternoon when he just knocks on your door, and he's there with Chan-his roommate who sometimes joins your study sessions- snacks in their hands. You've learned that what Minho doesn't say in words, he compensates by spending time with you. And you didn't tell him but waiting for these moments has been the joy of your life for the past few weeks.

It made you feel excited- like a child waiting up for Christmas morning to discover what gifts they are receiving. 

So, you resume reading, as Minho is lying next to you. You could smell his pinewood cologne and you wished you could pour his essence into a bottle and carry it with you everywhere. 

You notice how the sun is hitting Minho’s eyes directly, and how his eyebrows are scrunched up at the aggression. So, you grab your book with your left hand, and hover your right one over his eyes, shielding him from the sun. Minho's breath tickles your hand and you can feel goosebumps rising through your skin. 

It's as if every physical proximity with Minho made you feel hyperaware of every part of your body, and how he can lighten it with a simple breath from his part. It made you wonder what it would feel to have his hands on your skin.

As if Minho heard your thoughts, he gently wraps his thumb and index finger around your wrist, steadying your hand in place so it wouldn't strain your arm. You suddenly don't know what page you are in, too overwhelmed by the feeling of his hands on you. 

His touch is very featherlight and you are afraid to move, to break the bubble you are suddenly pulled into. 

"Read to me," he tells you and you gulp. You never understood why Minho enjoyed it when you read to him. 

"Like my voice that much?" you tease, in an attempt to hide how affected you are. You were so close to him; it would be easy to slide down and lay your head on his chest. You wondered how his heartbeat would sound. Was it steady, or racing just like your own? 

"Yeah, it's calming," he replies sincerely, catching you off guard. You didn't expect him to compliment you, and now you are racking your brain for a retort, anything to make you breathe again. 

"Growing soft on me Minho?" you say, the same question you asked on your first dinner out. The first time you truly saw him, the first time you felt as if you were two pieces of the same puzzle, just waiting for someone to connect the both of you. 

He doesn't reply. And you sit there, patiently waiting. His first answer came so easily, so naturally, because he was being sarcastic, "I’m basically in love with you", he told you back then. So why can't he say it again?

"Yes, I am." He finally replies and you feel your breath catch in your throat. You try to account it for your brain misguiding you. It wasn't Minho speaking, it was the rustling of the leaves and the singing of the birds that you just heard. But it was him, and now his eyes are open and he's looking at you. Your hand is still shielding his eyes and his fingers are still wrapped around your wrist. And you are suddenly feeling. You are feeling too much. You don't know what to do with those feelings cursing through your veins and you can't face them. Because they are scaring you.

"I'll just... Yeah, I’ll just read," you say quietly, too flustered by his intense gaze. You were already on the other side, you realize. His eyes pulled you in and you were stuck in there, swimming in a pool of honey. 

"Out loud," he says and you chuckle, "Fine, Min." The nickname slips out of your tongue naturally and you quickly snap your head towards Minho to see if he noticed. 

His eyes are closed, and there is a slight smile on his face, and you can swear that he just repeated the nickname to himself softly. 

✹✹✹

You've been so sick these past days, you barely managed to go to class. Your head throbbed with pain and your entire body felt as if someone thoroughly boxed it. 

You were grateful that Minho reeled down his teasing because you had no energy to retort back. He may have noticed how sick you felt and truthfully it would be hard not to. You stayed silent throughout the day, and you looked so pale, you avoided looking at the mirror altogether.

Though Minho didn't talk to you, he still silently placed water bottles and some of your favorite snacks on your desk. You'd down the water, grateful for the relief it brought your sore throat. And when you didn't touch the food, he'd immediately text you 'Eat up', followed by a simple 'Please'. Having someone else care for your well-being felt weird, but it warmed your heart beyond what words could describe. 

You only came today to pass your Criminal Law mid-term, but your head hurt so badly that you weren't even sure what you wrote on your paper. The words blurred in front of your eyes and you almost slept in the middle of your exam, exhaustion threatening to take over your body. 

You fucked up, badly. You haven't screwed up this much in years.

You thought that you were slowly getting better since Minho surpassing you no longer sparked an unworthy feeling within you. But apparently, you were wrong to believe so. Self-doubt crept up within you once again, and the ugly feelings it stirred slowly clawed at your throat, making it hard for you to breathe.

It was one test, and yet it reeled you back ages ago. 

Tears threaten to spill out of your eyes as you hurriedly walk out of your class. You make a beeline for the library, figuring that it will be mostly empty by now. 

You pull out a chair and sit on it, lowering your head down so no one will see you. Your tears are falling rapidly and you hit your thigh repeatedly.  You hated how weak you felt in that instant. 

"Yn?", someone calls out and you curse internally. You don't have to look up to see who it is, Minho's voice has become a part of you- you could easily recognize it between a thousand mingling sounds. 

You don't want him to see you, especially not like this, weak and vulnerable and on the verge of breaking down. So you quickly slip a pair of sunglasses on your eyes, before raising your head to look at him. "Hm?"

"Are you okay?" he asks, his tone so soft it makes you want to cry ten times fold. You hated it, hated how attentive he was to you. You didn't deserve it. 

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just here to pick a book," you lie, abruptly standing up and heading toward the rows behind you. You desperately needed to get away from him. 

You pause in front of a random shelf and then you feel Minho standing behind you. You grab a random book and he peeks above your shoulder to see it, "Economics? You hate this subject."

"Why are you following me?" you turn around attempting your best to sound mad. When in reality, your heart was brimming with hurt. You wished you could get away from your body and seep into someone's soul to feel what it's like to love yourself.

"You aren't okay," he asserts and you hate it. You hate that he sounds so sure of himself. Was it that noticeable? Were you not fooling anyone?

"I am," your voice is shaking but you are adamant about contradicting him. You couldn't let him see you. What if he runs?

"Then..." he steps forward and you take a step back until your back is against the shelf. His left arm cages your body, but his right one stays by his side. He is leaving you an opening, you realize, an outing in case you feel uncomfortable. Against all odds, you don't.

 "Why are you hiding from me?" he asks, gently taking your sunglasses off your face, and placing them on the top of your head.

You don't look up at him, and he hooks his finger underneath your chin, gently raising your head. When your tear-stained eyes meet his, he frowns deeply, "Why are you crying?"

"it's nothing."

"Yn..."

"I fucked up, okay?! That was the worst test I’ve ever given in years." The tears start to flow at your words and you wipe them away aggressively. You despised crying in front of people. 

Minho raises his hand to wipe the tears away for you but he quickly retracts it- you probably wouldn't want him to touch your face. It was enough that he had grabbed your wrist a couple of weeks before this. He quickly racks his brain for something to do, because the sight of your tears is making his heart ache in a way he hasn't felt before. It's as if he's feeling your emotions deep within him.

In desperation, Minho pinches your arm and you yelp, startled. "What was that for?" you whisper-shout and he raises his hands in defense, "I didn't know what else to do."

"So, you thought about pinching me?" you chuckle in bewilderment and he scratches the top of his hair sheepishly. 

"I mean, it worked. Look, you stopped crying," he points out raising his brows at you proudly and you shake your head at him.

"Remind me to never cry in front of you again." 

Minho grins at you before his face turns serious once again. "Look, you are the smartest person I know," he pauses, adding with a cheeky smirk, "After me of course." Which makes you giggle against your will. 

"Shut up", you lightly punch his chest and he smiles. "One test doesn't define you. You always work very hard. I wouldn't lie to you."

"Mm," you hum and he frowns at your lack of enthusiasm, but still, he doesn't comment. 

"No more crying," he wiggles his finger in front of your face and you roll your eyes, wiping the rest of your tears away. "Fine. Pretend as if this never happened."

"What are you talking about?" he asks as if confused, and you can't help the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. It's as if Minho knows exactly what to say to cheer you up. 

"Come with me," he tells you, gently pulling you by the sleeve of your hoodie. 

"Where to?"

"I’m craving ice cream."

"And why do you need me?"

"You're craving ice cream too," he says in a matter-of-a-fact tone. 

"Only if you're paying," you add with a giggle and he whines loudly, "I feel so so used around you." 

True to his words, Minho takes you to the nearest ice cream parlor. It's a 20 minutes walk away and you are grateful for the distance because it helps you clear your head a bit.

Minho lets you pick whatever flavors you want, and when you hesitate between two of them, he tells the cashier to put them both into your cup. This is how you end up with a container of 5 scoops of ice cream. You insisted you'd share, and Minho begrudgingly agreed when you threatened to walk out and leave him.

You then walk to a deserted alley and sit on the sidewalk. You didn't want to be around people right now, and thankfully, Minho understood without you having to say a word.  

You munch silently on your ice cream and Minho does the same, the both of you lost in your thoughts. You naturally take turns holding the freezing container, so it wouldn't numb the fingers of one of you.

When you're done, Minho stands up to throw it away in a nearby trashcan before sitting back again next to you. 

Suddenly you feel him gently tapping your hand. You look down to find that you've curled your fingers into a tight fist, so much that there are crescent indents visible on your palm now. 

"Let's play thumb war," he tells you and you giggle at his words. You never knew what to expect from him. 

Still, as your fingers hold each other, and your thumb circles one another, you feel yourself calm down slightly. You play a couple of rounds, and you know he's going easy on you, allowing you to quickly trap his thumb down. 

No one has gone to such lengths to cheer you up, and you suddenly feel so grateful for Minho’s presence in your life. You didn't care in what shape he was in, you just needed him to be in it. Which in turn makes you think how bad it'd hurt if he ever leaves. 

You don't want Minho to leave. You've gotten so attached to him that the thought of not talking to him again makes your heart race in panic. 

Minho notices the change in your expression, suddenly melancholic once again. Your hand has gone limp in his, the thumb war long forgotten by you. 

He curses under his breath, before looking at you. "If I dance for you, will you quit being so sad?"

"Dance for me?" you repeat incredulously and he nods, "Yes. I’ll show you an upcoming choreography just... Please smile?" 

"Okay," you giggle, plastering a wide grin on your face. 

"Not like that you look scary."

"Get to dancing!" you clap excitedly and he rolls his eyes, standing up and looking through his phone for a particular music. 

"Oh and no comment!" he looks pointedly at you, and you nod, pretending to zip your mouth and throwing away the key. 

'Finesse' by Bruno Mars starts playing and you are left mesmerized by the way Minho dances. It's short but it leaves you yearning to see more. His body moves smoothly, hitting each beat effortlessly. He made it look as if dancing was second nature to him, that it came as easily to him as breathing. 

You were speechless, rightfully so. You wished you could build a world where all Minho did was dance. 

"That was-" you start when he stops the music but he cuts you off instantly, "I said no comment."

"But--" Minho places his finger on your mouth to silence you, seemingly not thinking too much of it. But the feel of his finger on your lips makes you dizzy. Minho quickly takes off his hand, a blush evidently creeping up his neck. 

"Let's just go home," he sighs in defeat and you laugh despite the intense feelings cursing through you.

You don't know if you are imagining it but you swear that your pinkies brush against each other on your walk back. As if there was this magnetic force pulling them together. You wondered what would happen if you just linked your pinky with his. Would he grab you by the hand or will he let go of you entirely?

You were too much of a coward to find out. You were scared of messing up anything with him. So, you'd settle for this. Stolen glances and random outings. You just need him in your life. 

"Thank you for today," you tell Minho once you arrive and he shrugs, as what he did wasn't a big deal.

"No, I mean it. Thank you," you repeat, trying your best to convey how sincere you were being. You take in a deep breath, before grabbing his hand and squeezing it, for a fleeting second, before dropping it again. 

Minho is sure that your hand will now be imprinted into his, that the lines tracing over your palm will merge with his as one. Your touch was barely there but it had electrocuted him. He wondered to himself if his body would be able to handle more from you. But he'd gladly burn in your fires for the sake of holding you. And he'd wait, unwaveringly, as time stretches alongside the two of you. He'd wait as long as it takes for you. 

"Yn, I..." he stammers, taking a step closer to you. His scent engulfs you and you shamefully close your eyes, inhaling it. When you open them again, you find Minho glancing down at your lips. You gulp, dazzled by his proximity. 

"You have a mole on your nose," you suddenly speak up and his eyes snap back to yours, an adorable confusion drawn on his features. 

"I like that mole," you continue and you wish you could dig yourself a hole and bury yourself in it. 

"Thank you," he chuckles and you nod vigorously, "You're welcome." 

"Can I ask you something?" he says and your breath hitches in your throat. "Sure."

"You don't like it when people touch you, right?" 

"Yeah."

"Can I ask why?" 

You want to confide in him, to tell him that it’s because you long for it, you crave it so badly. That this need has woven itself into the very fabric of your being. An ache so raw that it scares you at times. You’ve never known what it feels like to be held- it was uncharted territory to you. 

"Isn't everyone scared of the unknown?" you settle on saying, and he nods in understanding. Of course, he understood. No one knows you as well as him. 

"It's okay. I just wanted to know if I ever overstepped my boundaries."

"You didn't," you reply instantly. 

"Good. You'll tell me if I ever do, right?"

"I will." 

"Okay." 

"Um. I'll get going," you point behind you and Minho smiles at you, waving you off.

You walk for a few steps before coming back again quickly. You then grab Minho’s hand, gently squeezing it like before, "You are an amazing dancer." 

And then you drop it, running back towards your apartment block without waiting for a reply. 

Minho stays frozen in his place. You think he's an amazing dancer. And you held his hand for five seconds. 

That's four seconds more than the first time. 

Progress.        

✹✹✹

You haven't gotten out of your house for the past three days. 

Everything crashed around you rapidly, it made you realize that the ground you once stood on was only an illusion, elusive and fleeting. 

You were doing well; you were getting better. But then Monday came and you went out for a walk in the park near you. As you sat there, you saw a little girl playing on the swings, delightful joy dancing across her features. But then she fell to the ground and you instinctively stood up to help her, only to notice her mother running to her. 

The world stilled around you as you clearly saw it- how the little girl clung to her mother's embrace, her embodiment of hope and love. You never had that. You don’t even know what perfume your mother used because she never allowed you to get that close to her. 

You stood up abruptly, quickly heading back to your apartment block. As you ran up the stairs, you ended up bumping into one of your neighbors. You were quick to apologize but they ignored you, and the feeling of being invisible came back to haunt you ten times fold. 

You knew you shouldn’t have done it, you knew you should have deleted your mother’s number when she sent you away to university without a backward glance, relieved at the thought of you getting a full-ride scholarship and not needing her anymore. But you didn’t, you kept her number in the hopes that she’d call. On your birthday, on holidays, on a random Thursday to tell you that she did remember who you are. 

With trembling hands, tears welling in your eyes, you dialed your mother’s number for the first time in a year. You didn’t know what you were expecting. Maybe she regrets it. Maybe she misses you. Maybe she didn’t find the courage to mend her wrongdoings and that's why she never called. 

"Hello?" her voice rang through your apartment. Goosebumps erupted on your arms and your hold on the phone tightened. Her voice took you back to memories you thought you had buried. How you spent countless nights yearning to hear the sound of her voice, how you regretted it once she spoke to attack you.

You hate her. You miss her. You want to hang up. You need to ask if she's doing okay. 

“Who is this?” Her voice was devoid of recognition, freezing you in your tracks. You felt as if a bucket of ice was thrown over your head, dousing the flame of hope that flickered in your heart. 

She deleted your number.

You quickly hung up, placing your phone down on the table. The tears refused to fall. It was as if your body had long anticipated this outcome, leaving only your wounded soul to bear the pain. 

Healing isn't linear, you've read about it in books and heard it in shows and movies. One step back doesn't mean that your entire progress is gone. You know this, you've memorized those sentences. So why do you not believe them? Why does it feel as if you can never be free from the past? Why does it feel as if you’ll always seek something out of her? 

Those questions roamed your mind for the past three days, making you too tired at the prospect of lifting your limbs, let alone leaving your apartment. You sent your two friends a text, telling them that you're sick so they wouldn't worry. Not that you believed they would. Nothing made sense to you anymore.

You laid on your bed in utter silence- a tense quiet that was disrupted on the third day by someone knocking on your door. You didn't know who was there; you just hoped that they'd leave you alone.

To your surprise, you open the door to find Minho, some notes in his right hand and a coffee in his left. He sends an easy smile your way. You don't smile back.

"What do you want?" your voice is cold, but Minho doesn't bristle. A cheeky smile settles on his lips as he leans on your doorway.

"You didn't come to class for the past three days, so I brought you the notes. So, you wouldn't think our competition is unfair."

"Competition," you chuckle coldly, heading inside your apartment, and he follows suit. You start to pace around furiously, and Minho looks at you worriedly. "Competition?" you repeat, the word dripping off your tongue like venom. You turn around, marching towards Minho and standing a few inches from him. "You know what? Fuck you and your competition!"

"Yn-"

"Did it ever occur to you that I never wanted a part in this competition? That all I wanted was to be left alone?" you say, growing louder as you jab your finger into his chest repeatedly. "I never wanted any of this! Do you understand? I never wanted to be this way," you shout angrily in his face.

The worried look in Minho’s eyes snaps you out of your haze. You realize that you are being utterly ridiculous lashing out at Minho, when the one person you are mad at is yourself. 

Your anger quickly deflates, leaving in its trail an agonizing sadness. It's so sudden that it knocks the breath out of you, and you clutch your chest as if it could soothe the burn in your heart. Suddenly you are twelve years old again, crying in your room because you feel like no one has ever loved you.

But this time you aren't alone. Minho is in front of you, and his eyebrows are so furrowed you want to lean forward to ease the tension between them. His eyebrows, you liked his eyebrows, they were arched, and they framed his eyes nicely, and his eyes are brown and so big, and they always look at you softly and why is it getting so hard to breathe-

"Did I do something to you? Whatever it is I’m sorry," Minho panics, cutting off your frantic train of thought. But now, the weight of guilt adds to your overwhelming emotions. You shouldn't have lashed out at him, he brought you coffee and you yelled at him. Maybe your mom was right after all.

You shake your head left and right furiously, your words coming out in hiccups. Since when did you start crying? "It isn't- it isn't you."

"Then let me help you-", he steps forward, hand outstretched, but you take three hurried steps back and wrap your hands around yourself protectively. "Don’t. Please, don't."

"Why are you pushing me away?" his tone isn't accusatory. You've learned time and time again that Minho wouldn't do anything that made you feel uncomfortable.

"You won't understand."

"Then make me."

"Because I’m afraid!" the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them. "I’m afraid if you ever hug me, I wouldn't be able to go back to hugging myself. I'd need you and I can't afford to need someone else."

You regret the words as soon as they fleet away from your mouth. He would look at you differently, he would find you pathetic and then he’d leave. And you wanted him to leave. But you also wanted him to stay. It was all so confusing. 

You felt as if your being was torn between two great forces, each one of them trying to win the war raging inside you. You wished someone else would make the decisions in your place, for once.

Minho places the coffee and notes on the ground before approaching you, his palms facing up in a gesture of surrender. "I won't leave you," he says softly. "I’ll be by your side for as long as you'll have me."

"Minho..." your voice catches in your throat as you utter his name- like a broken prayer. He stands before you, his eyes shimmering like the reflection of a river on a sunny day.

"Please, let me make it better." 

You nod tentatively and Minho comes even closer to you. He was treating you like one would with a wounded animal, giving you a chance to ultimately back out. But for once, you listen to what your heart has been yearning for. Your bones are aching to be held, to feel the warmth of a body against your own, to feel safe and secure. 

Minho embraces you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you to him. You slowly bring your arms up and lace them around his waist. You are afraid, deathly afraid. His grip is loose, and you almost can't feel him around you, but when you lay your head on his chest, he tightens his hold on you and you instinctively let out a sob. 

He's hugging adult you, the woman whose heart was once again broken by her mom. But he's also hugging little you, the girl who was craving affection from everyone around her. In that instant, Minho is hugging every single version of you that ever needed a hug. 

You were right to be scared because you don't want to let go, you want to stay in his arms because they feel safe, like a shield protecting you. You can't go back to not hugging Minho. 

The sensation is overwhelming and your knees buckle underneath you. But instead of holding you up, Minho falls to the ground with you, as if you are two inseparable pieces of one puzzle. He isn’t here to fix you, he’s here to break down with you and help you pick up the scattered pieces.

You think back to that night in the park when Minho told you about Japanese vases. At this moment, it dawns on you that Minho has found a way to become a part of you. He was the molten gold binding your broken parts together. He was the invisible thread stitching your wounds back together.

Who were you fooling? It was him; it was him all along. 

Minho rocks you gently as you cry and cry and cry. His hand finds your hair and he plays with it as you sob. He tells you you'll be okay, you'll feel better and you try to believe him, his words wrap around your bruises like a healing balm. 

"There, there, love. You are okay", he murmurs, tenderly patting your head. A fresh set of tears wells up in your eyes. Love.

"I’m sorry. I'm so sorry," you apologize as you pull away from his embrace. 

"Why are you apologizing? Is it because you wet my shirt? I don't mind," he reassures you with a smile and you shake your head. 

 "I was mean to you and you didn’t deserve it," you explain through hiccups.

"It's okay, you weren't mad at me, were you?" he asks, wiping your tears away so gently with his thumbs, careful not to irritate the sensitive skin.

"No. Still, it isn't okay and I’m sorry. I'm so sorry." 

"Shh, don't apologize. It's okay." you look at him doubtfully and he rolls his eyes playfully, "Here I’ll even do your silly pinky promise, okay?" he laces his pinky with yours, but then he suddenly leans forward and places a chaste kiss on your thumb pad. "There, sealed forever."

You giggle faintly as a blush dusts your cheeks, "That's not how it works."

"I know."

Your giggle was far different from the ones Minho was accustomed to. It was small, and it didn't brighten up your face like usual. But he was grateful for it nonetheless. He realized how much he missed your laugh, and how all the other sounds in the world pale in comparison to it.

In that moment Minho thinks to himself that he'd do anything to make you smile again. He'd make a fool out of himself if it meant making you happy. He'd settle for a simple tug at the corners of your mouth, anything but the sadness that seemed etched in your face, as if it was blended into the colors that drew you.

You tentatively move around, before laying your head on his lap. Minho's hand instinctively finds your hair and he starts to gently play with it. It feels as if you've done this a million times before, when in fact it was the first. 

There was something wildly intimate about laying on the floor with the man who just comforted you. It made you want to spill all your secrets to him, one by one, and have him hug you through them.

"Did you mean it? When you said you'll stay?" you felt so vulnerable in his hold, as if he could twist you whoever he liked. But you trusted him. You trusted yourself with Minho.

"I did. Your walls are always up. It's hard to peek behind them. But I don't want to tear them down. I want you to slowly unbuild them. I want you to do it for yourself."

To do it for yourself, it's hard to even know who you are anymore. 

"I want to tell you."

"You don't need to."

"I know, but I want to."

"Okay. Take your time, kitten." he pats your head gently, and you try to sync your breathing to the rhythm of his touch. You were grateful that you were lying on his lap since you couldn't see his face. It made talking feel a little less daunting.

"On my 9th birthday... I was very excited. I'd been on my best behavior that month, trying to please my mom in the hope that, for once, we'd celebrate my birthday. Like a normal little family," you smile sadly, you were so hopeful back then.

"My birthday came, I woke up, excited. My mom was still asleep, nothing out of the ordinary. So, I made my breakfast and walked to my school. I wore my prettiest dress and put on pigtails with hair clips. It was my birthday after all," Minho smiles softly at your words, his hand now resting on your own.

"I got back home and waited for my mom to come back. She remembered my birthday, I thought. And then, she came but she didn't talk to me. So, I thought, oh a surprise party!" you chuckle, but this time the smile on Minho’s face is gone.

"It was then 11 pm, and the hope had slowly died in me. So, in my stupid innocent self, I went to my mom, and asked her "Did you forget my birthday?". And I remember... I remember the way she laughed. Cruelly. Like I had told her the funniest joke in the world. And then. Then she looked me dead in the eye and said 'I hate the fact that you are born. Why would I celebrate that?'"

Minho sucks in a deep breath at your words, and you exhale one right out. It felt comforting, to have someone else stomach the hurt for you. To take the weight off your shoulders, allowing you a few moments to breathe.

"I confronted her about it one day, but she said she doesn't remember saying that. It's funny how it was a random Thursday for her, but for me, it shaped my life." you smile bitterly, "I remember how jealous I was of the way the other kids talked about their mothers. They said the word so lightly. It must have reminded them of sunshine and ice cream and rainbows. But for me, it held an uncharacteristic heaviness to it. I grew to hate the word."

"I drove myself crazy, Min", you whisper and he brings you closer to his body, "was it me or was it her? When did it start? Was it because I was too loud as a child or maybe too quiet? Did I not cater to her fantasies of a kid? I wanted to remember every single thing that happened throughout my childhood, thread through every single memory. I tried to pinpoint the exact moment my mom stopped loving me."

Minho squeezes your hand tightly in his, and you feel as if he was pulling you away from the memory that had long trapped you. You were now watching it unfold from outside of the window, your hand in his, safe from the hurt it had inflicted on you.

"It's not you. It could never be you. Some people are simply not fit to be parents. It's never their kid's fault."

Minho tries his best to keep his touch soothing, to make his voice sound as soft as possible. But he was angry, he was so angry at the world for not taking care of you when you were younger. His heart broke, thinking of 9-year-old you being told such cruel words.

He wanted to turn back time and tell you that you were enough. He wanted to make the pain that seemed so anchored in you float back to the surface, and dissipate like sea foam meeting the shore.

But he couldn't do that. All he could do is comfort present you.

Minho gently pulls you up from his lap, making you sit upright. He crisscrosses his legs and you do the same. Your knees brush against each other and you feel a shiver run down your spine. You didn't know that even knees could emanate such warmth.

"Yn, look at me. The world wouldn't be the same without you in it," he cradles your face between his hands, "You hear me yn? I’m so thankful you exist."

His doe brown eyes are sincere, and it made you want to believe him badly. That's a good start, right?

"I’ll be back," he tells you, letting go of your face and standing up.

You hear Minho rummaging through the kitchen and you take the time to calm yourself down. Sharing those parts of you with Minho felt therapeutic. As if you were healing parts of your inner child. You have never talked about this with anyone before, maybe this is why it still hurt as badly.

Minho comes back five minutes later, his hands behind his back. You raise a brow at him inquisitively and he just smiles secretly at you. "Close your eyes," he tells you and you giggle, doing as he says. He crouches in front of you, and you hear him shuffle in his place for a bit.

Then, "Open your eyes yn," and you find him, in front of you, a cupcake you had stored in your fridge in his hands, and a makeshift candle lit up. "Happy 9th birthday, love. You did well."

You stare at him in utter bewilderment. You couldn't believe your eyes. How could this man be so thoughtful? He was wishing you a belated birthday, to compensate for the 9th birthday you didn't celebrate.

You panic, at the look in his eyes. You've never seen it, never dared to dream of it, of someone caring for you unconditionally. So, you try to scare him, to push him away. You didn't want him to regret knowing you.

"There are things I need you to know um", you chuckle nervously, "When I... When I throw up, I hold my hair, and when I’m sick I nurse myself back to health, and when I have a nightmare I- I hold my hand in the dark. It will be hard for me to hold yours instead."

"We'll start a finger at a time, yeah?"

"It will take time."

"I have time," he speaks easily, as if loving you was effortless and not a strenuous task. You couldn't fathom it.

"You are too busy-", he cuts you off instantly, "Not for you." 

"The world doesn't stop because we need it to." Your voice is quiet; this is your very last try. You are tired of fighting. You are putting down your armor and waving a white flag.

"We'll make it stop. Here, the two of us. On this floor. We'll take as long as we need to."

"I never deemed you as an optimist", you smile a little, a hint of teasing in your tone.

"I’m not," he pauses, gazing down at the cupcake between his hands and then at you. "But I feel that we deserve a bit of happiness together, don't we?"

"We do."

"Then make a wish."

You close your eyes for a few seconds, before blowing on the candle.

"What did you wish for?" he asks a fond smile on his face.

The answer came naturally to you, you didn't even need to think about it. "I wished for you."

Minho's lips come crashing down on yours, and you imagine that this is what it feels like to see colors for the first time. To discover a new world beyond the one you've always known.

The kiss isn't urgent nor feverish, it is one of comfort. Your lips spilling the words you have not yet said to each other. "I love you," he kisses you, "I love you too," you kiss him back. "I need you to stay," you swipe your tongue across his bottom lip, "I’m never leaving you," he opens his mouth allowing you entrance.

As you kiss him, you remember a fact you once learned in high school. The human body possesses seven trillion nerves. And for the first time in your life, you feel as if each of these nerves is alive. You feel that even the smallest atom is electrocuted with Minho’s love and it’s all you know within you.  

You feel as if the pain, the hurt, and the ache you've been through are slowly unraveled, and in their place, a timid happiness is starting to bloom. You imagine that when Minho’s lips met your own, the seven trillion nerves inside you exhaled in relief 'We've made it', they said, 'we'll finally be okay.'

Epilogue

You've always thought that epilogues were useless. How can you resume the rest of your life in one sentence, boil down the rest of your existence in mere pages? Because life doesn't stop at the epilogue, and a new book can start once again, right where you left it off.  

But with Minho, you didn't mind an epilogue. On the contrary, you longed for a soft one. You wanted to rest on this last page, you wanted to lay your worries on the words and tuck them into the syllables. And you wanted to wake up anew.

And this wasn't the end of your story with Minho. A lot happened after it. But it didn't worry you, because epilogues are about the one thing that doesn't change throughout the long march of time. And luckily for you, that constant was Minho’s love for you. From that day he held you, he has never let go.

It took time, for his warmth to seep through your bones. It took time, for your heart to forget the cold. But you wanted to do it. With him. You wanted to love and be loved.

The sound of cats mewling fills your apartment, pudding can always be found in your fridge and you haven't felt invisible in years.

#stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #stray kids imagine #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #skz angst #stray kids angst #skz oneshots #skz recs #skz reactions #lee know x reader #lee know fluff #lee know angst #lee minho x reader #minho x reader #minho fluff #minho fanfic #minho angst #skz au #skz x you #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #lee know scenarios #stray kids fic #skz soft hours

[vanwritesfan-fiction]

Liar, Liar

Joe finds out you've faked it in the bedroom before, and he's determined to make sure you never lie to him again

Warnings: smut (thigh riding, intercourse), language, fluff at the end

"I mean", Sarah paused as she topped off her glass of red wine, the bottle hitting your coffee table with a thump, "there's this expectation that we're just supposed to be at the ready whenever they get home, and sometimes I'm too tired." She sunk into the couch dramatically, her confession earning a couple of hums and nods in agreement from the group.

"Exactly! Like just because you have the stamina of an athlete, doesn't mean I do!", Rebecca chimed in, raising her glass to the group, a few intoxicated chuckles echoing through the living room.

You were tight lipped as you tucked your legs underneath you on the couch, taking a big gulp of your wine as you nervously played with the hem of your sweater.

It was your turn to host the monthly Bengals WAGS get together. It started out as a book club, but quickly became a gossip and venting session where everyone would reveal the things that bothered them about being married or dating a professional athlete. It wasn't really your scene to air out your dirty laundry to anyone outside of your relationship, but you wanted to make friends in the organization, so you offered to bring the alcohol.

"Y/N, you're awfully quiet tonight." All eyes were on you now, and you shrunk under the scrutiny. "Spill it girl, everyone's dying to know how Joe is in bed." Tiffany, the most senior wife on the team, she'd been married to her husband for over a decade, scooted forward towards you. Desperate to change the conversation, you pivoted. "Uh, can I get anyone more wine?" You quickly lifted to your feet and scurried to through the house before anyone could stop you.

"Yeah, baby, how am I in bed?" Joe's voice startled you as you collided with him in the kitchen, Joe catching you at the waist. "Oh my god, don't even start." You playfully slapped him on the chest before pulling away, making him chuckle. You disappeared into the pantry and reemerged with a couple of bottles of wine.

"Where is the bottle opener, babe?" You searched the usual drawer, coming up empty. "Here." Joe approached you from behind, his crotch pressing against your ass as he reached above you to grab the bottle opener. "You better have nothing but good things to say about me", he teased you, a whisper in your ear sending a shiver down your spine.

"That doesn't bother you, that people are asking about something so intimate?" You asked, furrowing your brow as you looked at Joe, who simply shrugged. "I mean, not really. As long as you're not getting too detailed", he smirked at you, making your stomach flutter, "its just your version of locker room talk. Its harmless in my eyes."

You removed the cork from one of the bottles with a large with a loud pop. "So I shouldn't tell them about how you like to-", you gestured at your chest suggestively. "Hey! Those are details." Joe wagged a finger at you, playfully patting your butt as you walked back to the living room.

"Y/N! You're just in time!", one of the other wives perked up as you reentered the room, filling up the glasses before you sat back down. "Oh really?" You weren't sure you wanted to hear what they were talking about to be honest. 'Yes! We've been talking about whether or not we've ever faked it with our guys." She wiggled her eyebrows at you, "you know, in the bedroom."

You choked on your wine, letting out a couple of forced coughs to catch your breath. "I, uh-", you were feeling the pressure to say something memorable. You really hadn't ever faked an orgasm with Joe, but you really wanted to make friends with the other wives, they were your lifeline when you spent a lot of weeks alone. "I'm sure I've done it once before, I just really can't remember." You immediately regretted saying that, your throat going dry.

****

Once all of the ladies had left and you had cleaned up the living room and kitchen, you headed upstairs to get ready for bed. Joe had disappeared at some point during the night upstairs to watch game tape, but when you checked his office, it was empty. You followed the sound of the shower to your bedroom, spotting Joe's pajamas laid out on the bed.

"Remind me to never host a party again", you chuckled, "The wives are something else." Joe barely acknowledged your presence as he walked out of the bathroom, a towel tied at his waist. "I was thinking we could go to brunch at this new place Sarah mentioned." Joe was silent as he slipped a t-shirt over his head. "Joe?"

"I have practice tomorrow", he finally bit out with a sigh.

"I know. I mean after practice. Maybe we could run a couple errands together? Its been a while since we've done that."

"After practice, I have meetings." Even if you didn't know your husband well, anyone could tell that Joe was upset about something.

"Babe, what's wrong?"

Joe let out a curt laugh, louder than intended. "I don't know. You're the one faking orgasms, why don't you tell me?" Joe wasn't boastful, neither in his private life or on the field, but he did have pride, and it was wounded tonight when he heard you telling all the wives how unsatisfied you were with him in the bedroom.

"Joe, listen, I can explain that-"

"How long have you been lying to me?" You knew you had to tread carefully here and make sure you didn't say the wrong thing. "I haven't been lying to you, Joe. You said it yourself, its just "locker room" talk."

"And we agreed, no details! I don't talk to the guys about you like that." Joe sat at the edge of the bed, his brow furrowed in anger. You straddled his lap, raking your hands through his wet hair. "You're right. I crossed a line, it won't happen again, okay? But really, babe, it was nothing." You teased him with a quick peck on the lips, Joe deepening the kiss as he held you in place by the back of the head. You moaned as you felt his tongue roam your mouth, gasping for breath as the two of you made out.

You broke apart out of necessity, your chest heaving as you looked at Joe's baby blue eyes, your faces inches from each other.

"Show me."

You held his face in your hands. "Show you what?"

"When I'm fucking you. Where you're faking it." You groaned as you lifted yourself off of his lap. "Joe, let it go, please." Joe hated losing, always had, and this admission felt like a loss to him. He grabbed your wrist as you tried to walk away, pulling you to stand between his legs. His fingers toyed with the zipper of your jeans before he unbuttoned them, pushing them past your hips and exposing your lace panties. He pressed a kiss just below your belly button, his lips lingering against your skin as you shivered. You stepped out of your jeans, kicking them off to the side.

"If you're not lying, and this is just locker room talk, let me fix whatever's wrong."

The thought of you faking an orgasm truly did upset him, and as much as he hides behind his male bravado, there's something incredibly intimate about being able to truly release for your partner, no holds barred. A level of trust he's worked hard for, and you so easily revealed to be false.

You opened your mouth to speak, but could only let out a gasp as he quickly had you mount one of his large, muscular thighs, his hands holding you down at your hips. You instinctively ground yourself against him, the friction of your panties rubbing against your clit overwhelming. "Joe, I-" you mumbled against his lips as he pulled you in for another kiss, your fingertips digging into his shoulders as you quickened the pace of your hips, alternating between moving back and forth and in lazy circles as your orgasm built in your core.

"It can't be this, baby", he whispered, taking in your face as it contorted with pleasure, "that doesn't look like the face of someone faking it."

"I promise you, I'm not faking it." You bit out, throwing your head back. You pulled your shirt off over your head, your breasts at eye level with Joe. His nose trailed down your front, nestling between your breasts as he laid wet kisses between them. You were quickly coming undone, frantically moving on top of him. He could feel you getting close, your thighs clenching around his leg. "Get on the bed."

You climbed around Joe, lying on your back as he stood, the towel around his waist falling to his feet. The tip of his cock was bright pink and leaking with pre-cum as it rested against his lower stomach. You were salivating at the thought of feeling him on your tongue, but Joe had other plans for you. You felt the mattress dip as he pressed a knee into the bed, moving to position himself between your legs.

He let out a dark chuckle as he stroked himself, watching you wriggle on the bed uncomfortably, desperate to reach your climax. "Were you lying about this part, baby?" You let out a squeal as he drug the head of his cock through your drenched folds, teasing your entrance before pulling away.

"Joe, please", you begged, very aware of how desperate you sounded. You shifted yourself down towards him, growing impatient. "Joe, what?" At this point he was just enjoying toying with you. "Joe, please stop playing around." You could fake with your words all you wanted, but your body gave you away. You were no actor; there was no faking the shaking legs and the heaving chest.

He moaned out as he sunk deep into you, bottoming out as you adjusted to his size, slowly moving your hips around his pelvis. He leaned over, framing your head with his forearms. "You know, I could never fake this with you." He moved to your throat, grazing his teeth against your skin. At this point you were just cockwarming him as Joe pressed kisses to your jawline.

"Joe, please, move. Fuck me, please." You whined in his ear, digging your nails into his back, but he continued to hold you there with his body weight. There's nothing you can do but submit to him and you want nothing more than for him to ravish you, but you can tell he's holding back.

"The way you feel when I'm so deep inside of you." He slowly pulled out before slamming his hips back into you, all of the breath leaving your chest. "All of this is real. Always has been, always will be." He pulls out again, this time pushing himself to the hilt agonizingly slow, so you feel every inch of him.

The pace he set was relentless, his thrusts audible in the room as you coated his cock with your slick, hurdling toward your orgasm. "Fuck, Joe. Fuck, don't stop", you breathed out, your eyes shut tight. You tried to reach down to pleasure yourself, but Joe pounded so roughly into you, you couldn't focus, the circles around your clit erratic, your moans vibrating in your chest. "I'm- I'm, Joe-" you stuttered, gasping for breath, tears welling in your eyes from the intense pleasure. "I've got you, baby. I've got you", he reassured you, seeing you grasp at the sheets to steady yourself.

He studied your face, looking for the sign that you were close. There it was: you scrunched your face tightly, your nose wiggling as your release washed over you, your cushiony walls clenching down around him. He remembered how cute your orgasming face was the first time he saw it, an innocent juxtaposition to the explicit actions happening below.

"Such a good girl. So good, baby." He praised, as each pulse of your muscles pulled him in deeper, making his hips stutter, warmth pooling in his stomach. He continued to fuck you so you could ride your high as long as possible, but you were overstimulated. Joe nestled his face in the crook of your neck, groans leaving his mouth as he felt you tighten around him, and in within seconds he was cuming inside of you, "Oh, fuck, fuck", he cried out as you milked him for every drop of his release.

You pulled him in tight, cradling his head and drawling lazy circles on his back as you both came down from your high. His pants in your ear made you shiver, a giggle slipping from your lips as his cock grazed against your sensitive bud when he pulled out. He pushed away from the bed, resting on his hands, laying to the side of you. He took his time admiring your perfect body, his fingertips dragging along your sensitive skin, your face blissed out and euphoric.

"You know I'd never lie to you, right?", you stroked his cheek with your thumb as he looked down at you. "I love you, Joe."

"I know. I never should have doubted you." He gave you a small smile as he rested his chin on your chest. "Just no more bedroom talk with the wives. Deal?"

"Deal, baby."

Tag-List:

@wonderlandiswhereitsatyo

@bernelflo

@wickedfun9

@brrbrina

@zobellagio

@tallrock35

#joe burrow #joey burrow #joey b #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fanfiction #joe burrow smut #joe burrow imagine #nfl imagine #nfl fanfic #nfl fanfiction #nfl smut

[leilakisakabiri]

Can I request something with Gavi being barely even home resulting to reader feeling lonely and empty? A fluffy ending please! Gracias a todos!

You're Losing Me (Gavi)

Summary: You and Gavi's relationship is slowly falling apart - and neither of you know how to save it.

Warnings: Angst. Toxic behavior. 

A/N: This request literally revived me so thank you. I’m so excited to write angst hopefully you like it! Also thank you guys for 1k notes on Surprise, here’s my gift to you. Please send requests!

Word count: 6.8k+

Masterlist

It was the fourth Tuesday in a row that you ate alone in your apartment. The fourth time Gavi had skipped out on your plans last minute, sending a quick half-hearted text about one event or the other.

The first time it was because Coach had asked Gavi to stay after practice, keen on teaching him the perfect one-touch shot. Then it was a missed dinner because Jordi Alba had invited him out with some other players, and he just couldn’t say no, because he was finally starting to feel like a part of the family - like the older players had finally started to respect him.

Of course you hadn’t minded the first few times, he had been apologetic enough, promising you that he would be there next time, but each next time took on the next week, and soon the prospect of next time didn’t hold as much meaning anymore. You were accustomed to reading those words by now, and you rarely took time to read over the dwindling text messages anymore, eyes only scanning for those two words, the ones that had become a staple in your relationship.

Next time.

Next time you would cook dinner for him and he would be there to eat it. Next time he would tell you he loved you in person, rather than getting an impassive ‘sorry cariño’. The thought of next time, which once seemed like a lifeline to you, had become a dull reminder of the boy who was just on the other side of the city, only a measly train ride separating you both. Yet the distance seemed much greater.

But now the football season was drawing to a close, and instead of being excited at the notion of having more time to spend together, you felt uneasy and on edge, almost as if you were waiting for the other shoe to drop, something to come up, making the distance between the two of you that much more tangible.  

You felt your phone buzz next to you and your eyes unintentionally went to the clock.

9:45 pm.

The texts were getting later and later each time.

You already knew what awaited you, but you couldn’t help but scan the message regardless.

“Can’t come tonight, only have a few days till the season ends and the guys wanna make the most of it. Be there next time. Noche.”

There it was again, that unexplainable feeling in your chest, like your heart was always one step ahead of your brain, preparing for the loss of something that hadn’t yet left. Your mind was an incomprehensible mess, a jumble of contrasting thoughts and memories, forcing you to overthink situations and undervalue your emotions.  

You lifted your head watching your roommate land with a thump on the couch beside you, “He canceled again, didn’t he?”

You opened your mouth, an excuse on the tip of your tongue.

She held up her hand, “Don’t try to defend him. He knows it isn’t fair.”

You avoided her gaze, “You don’t get it. He’s really in demand and-”

“It doesn’t matter that he’s famous or a professional athlete, that doesn’t discredit his actions, or put the blame on anyone but him.”

She continued, “Look Gavi’s a good guy, I like him,” you stared at her, “I do! But he’s stupid if he doesn’t realize that he’s losing you. I know you, and while you might make excuses for him now, I know that sooner or later you’re going to notice that he hasn’t been treating you like you deserve, and you’ll be smart enough to leave.”

You felt the impact of her words full force, like a sledgehammer beating into your body. All the signs were there, right in front of your face, and you had been turning a blind eye, not wanting to admit what your heart already knew.

You knew it. The distance you had felt hadn’t been in vain – every day you could feel the connection between the two of you chip away, so small, you wouldn’t think to notice it till you stood back and looked at the bigger picture.

As a result of both your busy schedules, you both had come up with the idea of having Tuesday night, the most boring day of the week as agreed on, reserved for just the two of you. On Tuesday you didn’t have classes that ran well past dinner time or have to pick up late-night shifts at the restaurant, and he didn’t have evening practice. It was perfect. Tuesday was yours.

Except it had been four weeks since you’d had a proper conversation with Gavi, and you couldn’t help but see the difference in your relationship when you first got together, both eager and determined to spend as much time together as possible, to now, where even if you attended his games, you two still managed to get away without speaking.

You shook your head, “I-I need to take a walk.”

She reached over placing a hand on your shoulder, “Y/n. I’m sorry-”

You shook it off, standing up, “No it’s ok, it’s not your fault. I just need to clear my head.”

You felt the cool night breeze hit you as you walked the streets of Barcelona. It was unusually quiet in this part of town, the lights from the main strip didn’t reach this far out, and for a moment the quiet reminded you of your hometown.

If you closed your eyes, it was almost like you were fifteen again, back in your childhood bedroom, before the ideas of pretty boys with big brown eyes and the weight of managing both university and a job plagued all your thoughts.

You reached a lookout point, the top of the hill dropping to show you the expansive city below. You stared out, the buildings looked so small up here, barely more than a glowing dot in the dark, the cars a blur of soft yellow. You wondered which tiny dot Gavi was in. You wondered if he had checked his phone, seeing that you hadn’t texted him back like you usually did. You wondered if he even cared.

You shook your head trying to get rid of the unwanted thoughts.

Your relationship with Gavi was good. He made you laugh like nobody else, whispering secrets in each other’s ears like schoolchildren, making forts out of old sheets in his childhood bedroom when you met his family for the first time. You remembered his sweet smile, the way his eyes would crinkle unintentionally when he couldn’t hold back his excitement or happiness. You remembered confiding in him about school, how you were so stressed because you couldn’t manage eighteen credits while simultaneously holding a job that required you to be on your feet for hours at a time. You could still feel the soft caress of his hand, as he squeezed yours, providing you comfort, cracking a badly executed joke here and there just to get you to smile while listing a hundred reasons why if anyone could do it, it would be you.

So, if he made you feel all those things, why did his absence make you feel so tiny, so insignificant?

Your finger hovered over the call button, and you hit it hesitantly.

You just wanted to hear his voice.

That would be enough.

It rang seven times before the line went dead.

It took you a moment to realize you hadn’t put your phone up to your ear, waiting with bated breath for the timer on the screen to start, indicating he had picked up, but it never did.

You stuffed your phone back into your pocket, the same unsteady feeling in your heart strumming.

Once.

Twice. 

Then it was gone.

You came home to a quiet apartment and your roommate already asleep.

You shuffled into your room silently, you would give it one more week you decided. Next time would be the last.

The next week came, and while it was the first week Gavi had off from training, he had already planned to go to Ibiza to attend a music festival with his hometown friends. He had invited you, but it was more of an afterthought, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to go because of rushed ‘you can come if you want’ and a barely there apology so you left it.

You got an ‘I’ll miss you’ text from him and for a moment it made you smile, filling you with warmth. However, an ‘I miss you’ only did so much, and other than his sweet messages, there was really no intent behind his words.

Now it had been two days since Gavi had gotten back from his Ibiza trip, and you couldn’t hide the surprise on your face when you glanced over and saw a Facetime call from Gavi.

When was the last time the two of you had Facetimed? Maybe two months ago? It was much easier to send a text, the times both of you were free were few and far between.

You answered the call, pushing your textbook to the side. The dark grey interior of Gavi’s car greeted you.

“Hello?” You asked.

“Hey, Y/n long time no talk.” Gavi joked, but you felt your stomach flip at the truth behind his words.

“I can’t see you.” You said.

“Oh shit, did I accidentally Facetime? My bad I told Siri to call and she must have Facetimed instead. Let me call you.”

You went to speak but heard the three beeps indicating the call had been cut.

You heard the phone ring again and bit back a sigh. You just wanted to see his face.

You answered on the second ring.

“Hey sorry about that. I wanted to call and tell you that I’m back from Ibiza.”

“Yeah, I know.” You admitted, “I remembered.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Well, anyways I wanted to ask you to come with me to the Spanish football gala tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

You heard some shuffling and suddenly Gavi’s voice was much clearer and closer to the phone. You assumed he took it off speaker.

“Can you not come?”

You hesitated, “Uhm I’m not sure. It’s so last minute and I’m already scheduled at the restaurant tomorrow.”

“Can’t you just take off?” He persisted.

You felt your brow furrow, “I’m already on the schedule, I can’t just decide to take off the day before, I need to find someone to replace me.”

“Ok, tell whoever that I’ll sign a jersey for them if they do.”

You suddenly felt angry. Why did he think that you could only get a day off work if he helped you out? Were you not capable of handling your own situations? You hated feeling like this, like you weren’t even your own person, just a shadow of who you were with.

“No that’s fine. I’ll just take off like you said, simple.” You couldn’t help but let the bitterness seep into your voice.

He went to say something, probably sensing the shift in your mood, but you cut him off, “I have to go. Bye Gavi.”

You hung up before he could respond.

Finding someone to replace your shift was easier said than done, but after some back and forth, and a promise to Marcus to cover his next two shifts, you were free.

Free to prance around in a hall filled with people you barely knew, with a boy who you thought about more in your memories than you saw in real life.

The night of the gala arrived, and you were decked out, wearing the earrings Gavi had gifted you for your one-year anniversary paired with a necklace you had received after graduating high school.

Gavi had originally said he would pick you up but had sent a quick text earlier in the morning explaining that the team was getting ready together at a hotel, and to just meet him at the venue.

Your roommate had agreed to drive you and you gave her a grateful smile as you got in the car.

“Ana thank you for taking me.”

She brushed the comment off playfully, “No problem. Gotta step up when Gavi steps down.”

You let out a short laugh, “My hero.”

You got to the venue a couple of minutes before you had planned to meet Gavi and nervously walked around, staying out of the path of cameras.

You found someone to take you to a tent where some Barca staff were waiting for the players to start the program.

You walked in, a surprised look taking over your face once you noticed Pedri and a few other players in the corner.

You weren’t aware that some of the players from the hotel had arrived yet.

Pedri noticed your entrance and came over to say hello.

You gave him a quick hug, making casual small talk.

Just ask him, a voice in the back of your head urged.

Finally, you bit the bullet, attempting to sound as casual as possible, “How did you guys get here so early? I thought everyone was leaving the hotel at 6.”

“Ehh, it wasn’t that important, so I skipped it. Half the guys didn’t go anyway, and the other half just went to play FIFA. Besides I beat them every time, so it gets a little boring after a while.”

You tried to laugh at his joke, but could only manage a watery smile, mind running a mile a minute.

So Gavi hadn’t actually needed to go but chose to.

Leaving you alone.

Again.

It wasn’t a big deal by itself. But it was the fact that this was just another item you could add to your ever-growing list of things Gavi cared about more than you. You wondered briefly if you had been wrong, and if he had missed some other event to be there with you, only to remind yourself that you hadn’t seen him in a month, so no, he hadn’t.

You were still grappling with your emotions when Gavi arrived, unsure whether to confront him or just let this be another thing you swept under the rug.

Your reunion, if you could even call it that, was lackluster at best. He had walked in with some of his teammates, immediately going to greet the rest of his team, completely ignoring you standing on the right side of the room with Pedri.

It was only once he asked where Pedri was that someone pointed the two of you out.

You felt your body deflate; he hadn’t even asked for you.

Were you overthinking things again? Maybe he had just forgotten in the excitement of seeing his whole team for the first time after the season ended?

Gavi made his way over to the two of you, reaching out to Pedri first. You watched as they exchanged a hug before Gavi’s eyes floated over to yours.

“Hey.” His voice was casual, like he was greeting a mailman, or thanking the cashier.

“Hi.”

You closed the space, attempting to hug him, but he grabbed your shoulders stopping you, looking down.

You followed his gaze.

“I don’t want to wrinkle the dress.”

You felt your heart thud against your chest, and while you knew he only had good intentions, the rejection still stung.

You stepped out of his embrace, watching his hands drop to his sides, “Okay.”

The carpet went by in a blur, you posed with Gavi for a few photos before moving to the side and letting him enjoy the spotlight, he had worked hard for it. You took a couple of photos with some of the other teammate's girlfriends and wives before you headed inside.

Once inside, there was still some time left before the actual dinner portion of the gala started. The gala was held for all Spanish football clubs as a celebration of their hard work during the season. It was also a great event to network, giving players the ability to talk with different coaches and directors they otherwise might not have gotten the chance to, allowing for discussions of thinly veiled preseason transfers to commence without the fear of unwanted ears listening in.

You found Gavi in the crowd quickly, linking your arm with his. He looked over at you, a smile taking over his features once he noticed you.

“Glad you found me.”

You noticed with great relief that his eyes still crinkled in the corners when he looked at you,

“I always do.”

The next however many minutes spent till dinner service started comprised of Gavi talking with various different players and directors as you stood like a shiny accessory off his arm, too insignificant to be acknowledged in conversation.

The call for dinner provided you solace from the repetitive conversations and mundane questions. You took a seat next to Gavi and were confused to find both Joao Felix and Antoine Griezmann seated at your table.

You leaned into Gavi, “I thought the clubs sat together?”

“Me too. I think they’re doing alphabetical tonight though.” He whispered.

“Which one’s your least favorite?” You looked up shocked at Gavi’s question, watching a boyish grin take over his features as he tried to hide his laugh, interlacing your fingers on your lap.

You shoved into him lightly, “They’re sitting right there!”

He leaned in closer, nose softly grazing your ear as he spoke, “Yeah but between me and you, I think Joao could have had a better season in Chelsea.”

You shook your head in disbelief, fighting back the smile that was threatening to spill out. Your eyes caught his and for a second it seemed like you had been transported back in time, back to when these types of moments were the standard not the exception, back when it felt like you were on each other sides, back when laughter was the antidote instead of tense silences filled with awkward hello’s.

His eyebrow lifted ask if to ask if you agreed with him, and a small murmur of agreement from you was all he needed before he opened his mouth, ready to hammer his point home, but his attention switched last second.

It was like you could visibly see the shift in his demeanor. First, it was his eyes glancing past yours, seeing the midfielder approaching. Then it was the subtle grip on your hand loosening, his fingers slipping through the gaps. Next, it was the complete shift in body, his posture straightening as he leaned his body away from yours, position shifting to face Pedri who had sat in the spot next to him.

To his credit, Pedri acknowledged the both of you but it was clear Gavi paid no mind to you, not evening sparing you a glance as he became immersed in a conversation with Pedri.

You tried to pretend it didn’t affect you and while you could lie to everyone else, you couldn’t lie to yourself. You had built up this evening up so much in your head, telling yourself that tonight would be the shifting point in your relationship and that everything would go back to the way it once was, but it was shaping up to be another Tuesday you had become all too familiar with.

Why did it feel like you were always competing for his attention?

Your mind was reeling, all the small actions Gavi did that you kept pushing aside, were floating back to the surface, each little remark or dismissal a little tug on your heartstrings till you were sure that if you stayed at the table a for a moment longer you wouldn’t be able to stop the onslaught of tears quickly approaching.

You stood from the table abruptly, catching a few people’s attention, but you gave them a polite smile, or at least you hoped it had been polite, you couldn’t focus on anything but the stinging in your eyes and the sinking feeling in your stomach.

You swiftly walked towards the restroom, glancing over your shoulder to see if anyone had noticed but your eyes fell on Gavi’s form. He hadn’t even bothered turning around.

Of course, he hadn’t. 

Somehow that hurt more than anything else.

You were immensely grateful for the single-use restroom as you locked yourself in, shaky hands coming to steady yourself on the sink.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

You were internally screaming at yourself, begging yourself to keep yourself together but the feeling was too overwhelming and before you could stop you felt the first tears slip down. Your shoulders shook as you forced yourself to be silent, embarrassed about someone walking by and overhearing you pitying yourself.

One hand covered your mouth as you muffled your sobs, while the other dug into the stupid marble sink until the skin was pink and indented. The pain acted as a distraction from the unbearable pressure in your chest, and you instinctively pushed your hand harder into the sink.

Your fingers felt numb as you slowly removed them, closing your eyes to steady yourself. It was obvious that you weren’t in the best mental state, but you couldn’t exactly sit in the bathroom for the next hour to sort it out. You had to clean yourself up and go back to pretending.

Yes, pretending, you realized, was exactly what you had been doing. This whole night you had been pretending, pretending everything was okay, pretending that your relationship was fine when in truth you couldn’t even remember what Gavi’s laugh sounded like.

When had it become all pretend?

Was there anything left here? Were your best years behind you both?

These unanswered questions haunted you as you calmed yourself down, wrapping around you like a blanket, one that provided you no comfort but rather a feeling of suffocation.

Finally, your eyes had dried, and the redness had faded significantly. You had gotten your breathing under control, and you felt a little lighter having stopped denying what had been plaguing your mind for weeks now.

You took one final glance in the mirror, smoothing out your dress as you exited the restroom.

You walked slowly back to the table. You had decided that if you could just get through tonight, go home, and cry and think some more, then by tomorrow morning you would be able to talk to Gavi and decide what to do.

But that plan had flown out the window when you arrived back at the table to a confused Gavi.

It seemed he had finally noticed your absence.

“Where did you go? They served dinner 15 minutes ago.”

“I had to use the restroom.”

“For 15 minutes?”

“There was a queue.” You lied.

He seemed to accept your answer and you chose to focus on your food rather than him.

You were halfway through your meal when you noticed Gavi giving you a double take from the corner of your eye.

“Your eyes are red.” He spoke in a hushed voice.

“I don’t know why.”

“Are you sure?” His attention was beginning to slip again, eyes darting back between you and Pedri.

“Yes, I’m fine.” You heard your voice waver on the last syllable, a tick you had when you were lying, and Gavi immediately picked up on it, facing you fully.

“What’s wrong?”

You shook your head not wanting to get into everything here.

“I’m ok.”

“You’re not.”

“Gavi.” You warned.

“What happened? Did someone say something?”

“No. Just drop it please.” Your voice had gone soft, tired of defending yourself.

“Y/n just tell me, I’ll help.” He urged.

You stayed quiet.

“What’s wrong?” He asked again, adamant to get an answer.

You felt yourself grow annoyed, why couldn’t he just let it go? Why was he suddenly interested in how you felt? You were just trying to protect what little left the two of you had and he seemed intent on destroying it.

“It’s you.”

He looked taken aback, eyes pooling with hurt and confusion, his body slightly deflating, “W-what?”

The moment was interrupted when the announcer took over the stage, beginning the presentation for the night, highlighting a few key players and matches.

You looked away first, turning to face the stage, clapping along, acting as though you couldn’t feel Gavi’s gaze burning into your back as he desperately tried to get your attention.

Once the presentation was over you were quick to excuse yourself, using the pretense of going to get a drink as a getaway.

You held your breath as you walked, praying Gavi wouldn’t follow you, and while he got up immediately once he noticed, he was quickly interrupted by another player coming to congratulate him, allowing you to slip away while he watched helplessly.

You let out a huff, leaning against the bar trying to slow your heartbeat.

“Long day?”

You looked over to see Joao standing next to you, watching as the bartender poured his drink.

“Something like that.”

He nodded, “Me too. Been a long couple of days actually.”

You smiled, “Actually, it’s been a long couple of weeks.”

He turned his head to look at you, “I take it back. It’s actually been a long couple of months.”

You raised your hand in mock surrender, “Ok I can’t beat that.”

He grinned, “Yeah not many people can.”

Your expression matched his own, and you gave your order to the bartender before turning to face him again, “So how’s the season been?”

“Shit. Honestly, I’m not even sure why I’m here I played for Chelsea this season not Athletico.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his abruptness.

“Yeah, I saw your first game. A red card first match is pretty brutal.”

His grin only widened, “Oh keeping tabs are we?”

You gave him a playful glare, “Of course gotta know how Barca’s competition is doing.”

“Oh, so you’re a Barca girl?”

“Since the day I was born.” You revealed proudly.

And it was true, even before you had met Gavi, you had loved Barcelona. Growing up in a family of football lovers, your family had declared FC Barcelona as their home club, and you had witnessed so many legends play for Barcelona and so many underdogs find their true passion at the club.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he asked, and you gave him a nod of encouragement, pretending to zip your lips shut making him smile, “Ok well it’s always been my dream to play for Barcelona. Messi was always an idol to me.” He confessed.

Your mouth dropped open in shock before you abruptly shut it, your eyes almost widening comically as you spoke excitedly, “What oh my gosh. I’m in shock. Messi? But you play with Ronaldo!” You gasped.

He laughed at your facial expression, as he whispered, “I know! That’s why it’s a secret.”

You nodded along with his words, sending him a duh expression, “Of course, I won’t say anything I promise.”

“Promise what?”

Gavi had appeared by your side, a firm hand set on your waist, as he gently tugged you back into his body.

You peeked up at Gavi to see he was already looking down at you, jaw set. You gulped.

“Nothing much, just talking about the season.” You replied.

You saw Gavi’s eyes flicker between the two of you before he brought you closer, “Can we please talk?”

You bit your lip unsure but nodded.

He slipped his hand into yours as he led you to a quieter area. You waved goodbye to Joao as Gavi pulled you through the crowd, and he held his drink up in response.

He was a nice guy. You hoped next season would be better for him than the last.

He guided you to a standing table and propped your hands on the table as he played with the ring on your index finger.

“This a really pretty ring, is it new?” He asked eyes focused on your fingers.

“No, I got it last month.”

“I haven’t seen you wear it.”

“I’ve worn it every day since I got it.”

“Oh.”

You gently removed your hand from his, knowing that talking circles about something so small was going to get you nowhere.

“What do you want Gavi?” You asked quietly.

His voice came out gravelly, “I want to know how I let it get to the point where you feel more comfortable calling me Gavi rather than Pablo.”

His words when straight to your heart, and you could feel his pain almost as much as you could feel your own.

“I-I don’t know.”

You heard his breath falter, “I miss you calling me Pablo. Hell – I even miss you calling me Pablito. I’d take anything over whatever this is.” He gestured pointing between the two of you.

“Ok then let’s talk about it. Let’s talk about where it went wrong.”

His eyes lifted at your words, “Why are you speaking in the past tense?”

You remained silent.

“Amor please, why are you speaking in past tense?” You could hear the panic building in his voice.

“I think we don’t spend enough time together.”

“Ok we can fix that. No problem.” He agreed, desperate to save what was slowly unraveling.

“But do you want to? Fix it I mean?”

“Of course, I do. Please just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.” His voice was almost near begging, and you knew without a doubt that you were in a similar state.

You couldn’t believe that this was happening here, in front of all these people, but it wasn’t fair to either of you to hold it any longer. You had to have this conversation sooner or later and it seemed like tonight was the time for it.

“Sometimes I feel like you don’t have time for me.” You finally admitted what you had been feeling for the last month.

He shook his head rapidly, “I do! But I mean we both have such busy schedules, you have even less time than I do with school.” he argued, “You also have work so that cuts down on the time we have too, but I’m not complaining.”

You were trembling with anger as you spoke, but you kept your voice low, “Yes, because I have to work a job to be able to afford college. I hate the hours probably more than you do, but I do it because I have to. I don’t have an option. I want to go to school? I have to fund it. But you? You didn’t have to go out with the guys after practice or stay around Ansu’s to play FIFA, but you did. That was a choice you made.”

He opened his mouth to retaliate but you weren’t done, “And I’m not even mad about that. I’m mad that for the last month, you’ve put me below every other person in your life, treated me like I’m dispensable, someone who you only consider when you need something. I feel cheap. Like something you only want when it’s convenient to you.”

“That’s not true. You’re my girlfriend!” His voice shook as he spoke, and you realized he was probably just as scared as you were.

“Then why do I feel like I’m not?” Your voice came out soft, barely above a whisper, but it felt like delivering the final blow to an already sinking battleship.

You felt his eyes on you, eyes glazing over as hundreds of unushered words filled the space between you, but the moment was cut short, and you had to remind yourself that you were in public as Xavi approached the two of you.

You gave Xavi a quick hug before he congratulated Gavi on a great season.

Gavi only nodded, murmuring short responses, eyes glancing at you every few seconds like he was scared you would disappear from his life if he wasn’t watching.  

He left after a moment, and then the two of you were alone again.

“I’m sorry Y/n, I had no idea that’s why you were working. I would’ve given you the money if you just said something-“

“I don’t want your money Gavi! It’s yours, not mine.” You said exasperated.

“C’mon Y/n you know I have enough to provide for the both of us. You don’t have to work-“

“I don’t want that! In fact, right now I don’t even want to be in this relationship!”

The boy physically shrunk back at your words, your admission sending him into silence as he processed your words.

Finally, he spoke, head shaking in denial, not wanting to admit what was right in front of him, “I-I don’t understand.”

You wanted to yell at him to notice all the signs you’d been sending him, beg him to understand the things you couldn’t say but had always been lurking in the shadows, easy enough to make out if you just paid attention. You wanted to scream that it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair that Gavi got to pursue his passion while you were being told to give up yours. Your head was filled with millions of things you wanted to say to him, thousands of little moments you wanted to share with him, you wanted to confide in him about how scared you were, how you had never felt like this in your life, how the thought of him slowly falling out of love with you was ripping your insides apart, making you sick to your stomach. There were so many things but not one left your mouth.

“I know you don’t.” Your voice sounded tired, even to your own ears, and you wondered if this was it. If this is where the two of you parted ways.

“I-I’m just going to go home.”

“I’ll grab our coats.”

You placed your hand gently on his, giving him a sad smile, “It’s ok. I think I’ll go alone.”

Neither of you could deny what it meant.

He ducked his head so you couldn’t see his red eyes. There was a moment of silence, and you could tell he was fighting with himself, trying to figure out what to do to stop the inevitable, until he slowly nodded,

“Ok.”

He had just sealed your relationship closed, something you were grateful for because you knew you couldn’t have done it yourself.

He didn’t lift his head as you walked away, and you didn’t blame him.

You grabbed your coat quickly, bidding goodbye to a few people as you made your way out of the hall.

As you walked down the hallway towards the main doors you realized you didn’t have a ride back. Your roommate had dropped you off and you assumed Gavi would drop you back. Well, that wasn’t happening now. Train it was. One glance out the window told you it was raining, downpouring to be exact.

How fitting. At least the weather matched your mood.

You stepped outside, immediately becoming drenched, but somehow you found comfort in it, at least this way no one could see you cry.

You were about halfway down the steps when you heard the door slam open, yelling coming from behind you.

You spun around, surprised to see Gavi stepping into the rain, “Please stay. Please.”

You stood frozen, unsure of what to say.

You were sure he wouldn’t follow you. But he had.

He kept taking steps closer to you, closing the distance, till you were only two steps apart, “Stay.”

His eyes searched your own, looking for something, maybe a sign that there was hope, something you weren’t sure you could provide.

“Just let me go. We can talk about this tomorrow.”

He shook his head, breath unsteady, “No I can’t. I can’t. I feel like if I let you go now, I’ll never see you again.”

You bit your cheek looking away, he was right. After tonight you had no intention of talking to him again.

His shoulders drooped at your silence, and he sat down on the steps of the building, harsh rain pounding down on him, matting his hair and drenching his extremely expensive suit, but he didn’t seem to care, “I hate fighting with you.”

You glanced down at his figure, watching him sit in the rain with his head in his hands, utterly defenseless.

“But I hate even more that it’s my fault, and that I couldn’t see what I was doing until I felt what you did, just for a second, and it hurt like hell.”

“I should have been there for you. I should have made time for you. I knew what I was doing wasn’t right but then I kept thinking it’s fine I’ll make it up to her next time, but next time never happened because I never showed up. I guess I was just so focused on making sure my teammates all liked me, and they had just stopped treating me like a kid, finally inviting me places - and I’m not using that as an excuse because I know it’s a shit one, it’s on me. Nobody forced me to do anything, I just wanted to feel included, and I put everyone else’s feelings above yours when yours was the one that was the most important to me.”

He finally lifted his head, and he was close enough that you could see the tears streaming down his face as he looked intently at you, almost like he was trying to memorize you, “If you want to walk away you can, you should - I’ll understand. I just wanted to apologize, really apologize, and own up to everything I did. I love you, and I promise you I won’t take anyone for granted the way I did with you.”

Your expression mirrored his own, and the tears were falling freely at his confession now that it was just the two of you. All the things you had wanted him to realize he had. All the things you wished he had said, he finally did.

But was it too late?

“Thank you, Pablo.”

He let out a short laugh through his tears, “No, thank you.”

You gave him a soft smile before you put distance between the two of you, letting the rain mask the sound of you leaving.

The lights from the venue grew dimmer as you continued walking, and you spared one last glance over your shoulder before it disappeared from view, seeing Gavi’s tiny figure rooted in place, watching you leave.

Your steps faltered.

How could you leave this relationship, this boy, when every single warning sign was going off in your brain, telling you to turn around and fight, to not give up? He had understood, he had understood exactly what you had felt, and had owned up to his mistakes, what else could he have done? He couldn’t go back and make it better, but he could change the way he treated you, but how would you acknowledge the change if you didn’t stick around?

It didn’t feel right walking away.

You thought you would feel content, feel like the pressure was lifting from your shoulders, but the dropping feeling in your stomach was multiplying, and your heart was constricting painfully at the thought of never seeing him, never laughing with him, never kissing him again, at the idea of falling in love with someone that wasn’t him.

You never ran faster in your life.

Let him be there. Please let him be there.

You didn’t know how you could explain yourself if you had to walk back into the event sopping wet, eyes puffy, and nose runny.

You couldn’t stop the wide smile that stretched across your face as he realized he was right where you left him.

You sat next to him and he didn’t notice until you spoke.

“Pablo.”

His head shot upon hearing your voice, and his face lifted for a second before falling again, “Di-Did you forget something?”

You nodded.

“Ok I can get it for you, what is it?” He cleared his throat, trying to make his voice clear.

You shifted closer to him, bodies pressed against each other, “I forgot that I love you. I love you and I want to work this out. I’m happy that you took responsibility and I believe you. I believe that you won’t do it again. But I should apologize too – I also wasn’t fair to you, and I did things that I shouldn’t have just to get back at you for making me feel so small.”

“I’m sorr-”

You cut him off, “Let’s stop apologizing.”

He nodded, eyes looking at you with nothing but love and admiration,

“Ok but we’ll have to work on our communication.” He said, and you hummed in agreement.

You touched your forehead with his, staring at each other with baited breaths until he finally closed the distance and kissed you. After a month of not seeing each other, you were finally kissing, pouring all your emotions, all your love, all your pain into the kiss, making a promise to be there for each other, and it felt like coming home.

alternate ending

#pablo gavi #gavi imagine #pablo gavi imagine #pablogavi #football imagine #footballer imagine #football #gavi #gavi angst #gavi fluff #pedri #pedri imagine #joao felix #joao felix imagine #joao felix imagines #gavi x reader #gavi imagines #pedri one shot #gavi oneshot #gavi one shot #fc barcelona #fc barça #pedri gonzalez #footballer x reader #footballers #pablo gavi x reader #gavi blurb #gavi smut

[ilovedthestars]

On System Collapse, Sanctuary Moon, and saving one another.

I said the other day that System Collapse might be my new favorite Murderbot book. The first time I thought that was in the middle of chapter eight, the chapter where Murderbot and its humans make a documentary to show the colonists what the Corporation Rim is like. The whole book was good, but that was the chapter that felt like it was reaching out to me the most.

The thing that struck me about it is how Murderbot saves the colonists with media. It was saved by media—Sanctuary Moon helped it rewire its neural tissue, process its trauma, find a place for itself in the world. And coming up with the idea of using media to convince the colonists is what drags it out of the depressive state it’s been in for the entire book up to that point, and lets it start to feel hopeful again. It literally tells us in its narration that the emotional reactions it has when it comes up with this idea are similar to the ones it had watching Sanctuary Moon for the first time. The thought of creating its own media, of finding a way to tell the truth and be listened to, of being able to keep people from being trapped in the corporate world it knows all too well, is just as much of a lifeline for it as Sanctuary Moon was.

Murderbot has been been feeling like a failure as a SecUnit for the entire book, and it finds its way out of that not through regaining its normal SecUnit competence but through art. Something it was never meant to experience or understand, let alone create, but something that shaped who it is. It takes the thing that saved it and turns it around to save others—and saves itself again, in the process.

And the other thing that jumped out at me, thinking about chapter eight, is that so many of us have been saved by media, too. So many of us have been saved by Murderbot, in big and small ways. I’m certainly one of them. Murderbot and the community of readers who love it gave me the space to stop and consider some things that (not unlike Murderbot) I hadn’t really been willing to examine. And now I get to figure myself out in a community full of aspec people who understand. Murderbot has given that opportunity to a lot of people.

Martha Wells has talked in interviews about how parts of Murderbot were based on herself. She says, in her introduction to the Subterranean Press edition, that media “probably saved [her] life as a kid,” including the kind of media that isn’t “cool” to be saved by. We’ve seen that in Murderbot ever since the very first line of All Systems Red. What we saw in chapter eight of System Collapse goes a step further. It makes me want to hold a mirror up—I hope Wells was aware, when she was writing it, that what Murderbot does for the colonists is something she’s done for a lot of others.

The colonists that Murderbot saves with its documentary are not real people. That scene, of course, is fiction. But it’s the kind of fiction that’s true in all the ways that matter.

I really love Murderbot. Not in a weird way. 💜

#stars has thoughts #system collapse #system collapse spoilers #murderbot #murderbot meta #the murderbot diaries #i was having so many emotions when reading chapter 8 #i paused after that chapter and wrote a draft of the second and third paragraphs of this post #it's about the parallels. between murderbot and its own past self #between murderbot and Wells. between murderbot and us. #it really genuinely made me want to hold that scene up to Martha Wells and say #you know that you did this for us‚ right?? #you know that you're saving people too?

[will1ams0n]

“I swear if we get caught I’m actually going to kill you”

Summary: Leah’s GF has been busy during her injury period, meaning they’ve been like ships in the night. Reader decides to surprise her at one of her games

Warnings: Fluff mostly, slight sexual references, bad writing and formatting due to this being my first time writing on tumblr…

———

“I swear if we get caught I’m actually going to kill you” I say laughing ever so slightly, but only after I’d come around from the initial shock of being dragged into one of the empty kit rooms of the football grounds, with lips attached to my neck and hands around my waist, the roar of the crowds were dying down post match, everything seemed quieter even though it was all just as hectic. It was mostly due to the captivating presence of the woman in front of me, nothing else in the world existed when I was looking into those blue eyes,

“Just shut up then and kiss me already” she mumbles back, her hands tightly gripping my jacket pulling me ever so closer into her as if it was her lifeline, as if I’d disappear if she were to let go,

“Well, as you asked so nicely” I reply, smirking as I give the beautiful blue eyed blonde a quick peck on the cheek, causing her to huff and let go of one side of my jacket, in order to grab my neck to pull me back into her again, this time making sure my lips reach her intended target, her own.

Leah and I weren’t a secret by any means, that wasn’t the reason for the secretive make out session in the kit room, we were however low key to the public eye. It had been just over a year, but even around team mates Leah didn’t like to let her tough leader like persona slip too far. She held tightly to the fact she was the top, and she was right the majority of the time, but lets just say even she has her guilty pleasures, and they were pleasurable for both parties involved.

So this is how we found ourselves here. Making out like teenagers post game in the grounds. I had joined arsenal much later than Leah. Being a transfer from another club in the WSL. We’d hit it off straight away, becoming fast friends and an unstoppable duo in the midfield. It wasn’t until a fair few months (and a couple of drinks) later, that we ending up making out during an intense game of truth or dare. The team had cheered, and we were left blushing. Well I was blushing, Leah was left smirking with her arm round me, almost claiming me as hers already. The next morning we went to breakfast together, and the rest was history really.

However I’d recently suffered an injury after a nasty tackle. I was undergoing rehab and wasn’t allowed back on the pitch until cleared, which was taking a frustratingly long time. I was longing desperately to be back on the pitch and with my team again, but instead I had jam packed schedules of rehab, and media content due to my ever so slightly more clear schedule. So I was attending TV interviews and radio shows, talking to journalists and rather just feeling like a performing monkey. With everything going on I hardly had any time for myself, let alone my girlfriend. Most of the times getting back once she was already asleep, only to find her gone before I’d woken up. The rest of the time it was vice versa. Leah and I were ships in the night. I was exhausted and wiped. Leah knew and could tell and her texts were filled with love and concern, and constant reminders to take it easy. Knowing I was pushing myself in rehab so I could get back out there sooner rather then later. I’d get warning messages, and not to subtle glares from across the gym when she’d pass through to give me some water, or just a quick kiss.

I missed her. Her warmth, her laughter, that damned smile. Leah would insist though that she missed me far more, at least that’s what she whispered into my ear when I walked into the kit room before her game earlier today. She wasn’t expecting me. I hadn’t told her in fear that I might get called in for a last minute commitment and I didn’t want to get either of our hopes up. To be honest I was looking forward to the surprise of it all, seeing her blue eyes sparkle, and being able to spend the entire rest of the day and the next with each other besides this game, which was a sure fire victory anyway.

I was going to be watching from the box, and had already stopped by there to drop off the majority of my stuff off before heading down to the changing rooms to see the team before kick off. Most of them I hadn’t seen at all in the time I’ve been off, I missed them a lot, we were this large dysfunctional family. My hands were slightly clammy at the though of being able to spend actual time with my girlfriend again, and by the time I arrived at the door to the changing room I was expecting to almost die of a cardiac arrest my heart was beating so fast.

All of their eyes shot up to the unexpected intruder, but the second of silence was immediately replaced by cheers and jeering from the girls. I smirked as they ran up to say hello, some patting me on the back, others messing up my hair, Katie practically jumped onto me, wrestling me slightly however jumped back when she heard someone clear their throat from across the room. I looked up to meet the eyes of the woman I’d fallen in love with, and whilst they held a sparkle they also held an element of warning for me to be careful, and for Katie to back off and not injure her girlfriend any further then she already was.

Leah had hung back from the multitude of warm wishes and embraces, my eyes were keeping track of her from the minute I walked through the door and I could see her practically buzzing with excitement. It had been so long, forever it felt like, and this was the longest and closest we’d been in a room together whilst awake. I knew why she was hanging behind, wanting me all to herself when she finally reached me.

“Hey” I finally called out to her, grinning even wider if that was possible when it was finally her before. She just huffed in response and pulled me into her arms. Ignore the jokes and jeers from the team around us.

“I missed you” she mumbled into my neck, and I just shut my eye breathing her scent in. She was warm, she was safe, she was home.

“I missed you too baby” I whispered back, squeezing her so tightly, wanting to convey everything that couldn’t be said in front of the audience of our occasional childlike colleagues and comrades.

“Trust me, not as much as I have” she rebutted quietly as she pulled back, the low tone in her voice revealed her true meaning behind the statement. To anyone else it would seem innocent, but knowing the smirk on the blondes lips, I knew better.

I just laughed, pushing her fully of me gently, resulting in the most adorable pout coming from her, I rolled my eyes and placed my hands on her cheeks, using my thumb to flatten the crease forming in her brows.

“I love you baby, and trust me when I say I want you to show me just how much you’ve missed me, but first, you have a game to win” I stated, pushing her towards the door that the rest of the team had just started to walk out of, getting ready to line up.

“For you. A game I’ll win for you” she said throwing me a wink before running out the door.

———

This is my first attempt at writing a WOSO fic, so please bare with me haha. This is also my first time posting on Tumblr…having figured the whole thing out yet, but it’s a work in progress.

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #engwnt x reader #leah williamson fluff #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader

[little-diable]

A Sacrifice for Him - Dean Winchester (smut)

I'm finally back to writing! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Dean and the reader get into a fight on a hunt, forcing them to part ways. But while Dean tries to drown his anger in beer, the reader is being kidnapped. Will they find back together to finally admit their feelings for one another?

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f), unprotected piv, mentions kidnapping and some typical SPN violence, friends to lovers, happy end of course

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (2.9k words)

Dean had his eyes focused on his hands, on the semi-cold bottle of beer he kept clinging to as if it was his lifeline, saving the older Winchester brother from drowning. His heart was pounding, still fired up from the fight he had found himself tangled in, growling angry words at (y/n). Fuck, his words kept ringing in his ears, followed by the sobs that had clawed through her, angry tears that had rolled down her cheeks like wine staining a piece of linen. 

The evening had started like many others, with the three of them hiding away in a corner of the new bar they had stumbled upon. Once again were they trapped in an unfamiliar town, following clues to fight against whatever kept the people living here on their toes. While Dean and Sam were preparing to fight against a nest of vampires, (y/n) had focused on something else, something that had pushed them into their fight.

Sam had found shelter in the bed of a girl he had met that very evening, giving his brother and (y/n) some alone time, hoping that they’d finally get over themselves and give into the feelings they’ve been fostering for years. But their evening had taken a few unforeseen turns, forcing annoyed grunts out of Dean as (y/n) tried to explain her theories, thoughts Dean couldn't and didn’t want to follow. 

By now he couldn’t remember why he had been so angry, perhaps he had been angry at himself, for not being able to speak those words he had always wanted to speak, confessing the love he felt for her. By now he couldn’t remember what she had replied, why she had tried to convince him of the ideas keeping her awake late at night. 

“Fuck.” Dean threw his head back, eyes squeezed shut as he drowned his last gulps of beer. It took him a few moments before his eyes found the bright screen of his phone, freezing as he realised how late it was, as he realised how many hours had passed since the fight, hours since he had last seen (y/n). 

Without thinking twice, Dean dialled her number, teeth running along his lower lip, anxiously waiting for her to pick up. But she didn’t, forcing Dean to deeply exhale, thumbs flying over the screen as he messaged her a few words, asking her to call him back. His green eyes kept staring at the seconds and minutes passing by, minutes where he was met with nothing but silence. 

Dean anxiously rose to his feet, reaching for his car keys to drive back to the bar where he had last seen (y/n), where he had stormed out into the dark night, leaving her behind. He couldn’t help but curse himself for being this stupid, for giving into his anger, leaving her behind with tears rolling down her cheeks. His heart picked up its pace as he parked in front of the bar, giving himself a few moments to try and regulate his breathing, picking up on nothing but silence. He couldn’t listen to any music, not when his thoughts were running wild, painting pictures that had an awfully sombre feeling to them. 

She’ll be okay. She’ll be okay. She has to be. Dean kept chanting the words, dirty boots meeting the ground as he walked back into the almost empty bar. With his hands buried in the pockets of his jacket, Dean made his way to the bartender, staring at the elderly woman that seemed to recognise him, greeting Dean with a simple “Did you forget something here? I can’t promise you’ll find it, somebody most likely took it with them.”

“I’m looking for my friend, the woman I was here with.” His words had an unfamiliar tone to them, dripping with fear, with desperation. The woman studied him for a moment, palms pressed to the surface of the bar. Her eyes flickered to their surroundings, wandering to the booth where Dean and (y/n) had been sitting all these hours ago.

“She left a few minutes after you, I haven’t seen her since.” A heavy sigh left Dean, murmuring a small “Alright, thank you” before he left the bar once again. With his phone pressed to his ear, Dean made his way back to Baby, finding shelter in his car, back pressed against the leather seat. 

“Hello?” Sam’s tired voice rang in his ears, forcing Dean’s almost teary eyes to momentarily flutter close. “Dean? What’s wrong? It’s almost two am.”

“She’s gone.” Hurt flushed through him as the words rolled off his tongue, adding to the weight resting on Dean’s heart. His palms were sweaty, clearly projecting the fear he felt, the uncertainty making him tremble.

“What? (Y/n)?”

“Yes, fuck, who else could it be?” It took Sam a few moments to reply, Dean could pick up on a few rustling sounds, on an unfamiliar voice that asked Sam why he was leaving. 

“Pick me up, I’ll wait in front of the diner we had lunch at.”

……

Reader's POV:

She woke with a gasp, eyes shooting open, forced to blink a few times before she could adjust to her dark surroundings. Heavy breaths left (y/n), trying to move around on the chair she had been tied to. Her insides screamed at her to call out for Dean, hoping that he was close.

The memories of their fight kept flashing through her mind, forcing a groan out of (y/n), once again realising how heavy the tension between her and Dean was. Fuck, no matter how angry she was at him, she’d always try to reach out, wanting and needing to feel him close. 

“You’re awake, finally!” (Y/n)’s eyes found the dark ones of an unfamiliar woman, hands balled into fists to prepare for whatever may happen to her. Her heart was racing, pounding in her chest, unable to breathe through the emotions rolling upon her like a tidal wave. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been trapped in a situation like this, without Dean or Sam close, hell, she couldn’t even remember the last time she had been on a hunt on her own. “We’ve prepared everything for you.”

“What are you talking about? Let me go!” Her voice had a raspy undertone to it, making (y/n) wonder how long she had been out for. The woman’s laughter rang through the darkness, disappearing from (y/n)’s sight before she could ask another question. Panic flushed through her, spurring her on as she tried to tug on the rope keeping her tied to the chair, hissing whenever the rope burned her skin, leaving ugly marks. 

Before (y/n) could even try to loosen the rope she heard the sound of a metallic door being pushed open, exposing other women that followed the one that had spoken to (y/n) moments ago. She froze in her movements, wide eyes taking in the burning stake she could see from her chair. The flames kept growing higher, flashing through the dark night, forcing goosebumps to rise on (y/n)’s forearms. Was this hell? Was she trapped in another world she couldn’t escape from?

“The time is finally right, we’ve been waiting for this moment for years, and the second we saw you, we knew. You're perfect for Him.” The woman from earlier kept talking to (y/n) as a few other women freed (y/n) from the rope. Before she could try to fight her way out of their grasp, she was picked up by them, carried outside as they chanted words she couldn’t understand. 

“Let me go you freaks! What the fuck are you doing?” (Y/n) could feel the heat of the flames on her skin, making sweat pool on her forehead like raindrops falling from the sky. No matter how much she tried to toss around in their grasp, there was no way out for her, and slowly it began to dawn on her that she was their sacrifice, about to be tossed to the flames. 

“Don’t fear the flames, he is waiting for you.” She couldn’t concentrate on the woman’s words, could only focus on the heavy tree trunk being brought closer, forcing her against it. Once again they wrapped some rope around her body, binding a crying (y/n) against the tree trunk. Dean’s name left her lips over and over again, hoping that the older Winchester brother would come and rescue her. 

“Please, you don’t have to do this.” The whimpers rolled off (y/n)’s tongue like a prayer, hoping that the women would wake from their state, that they’d realise how fucked up this very situation was, but they didn’t seem to pay her crying any mind.

“We have to, otherwise He will punish us. He asked us for sacrifices, so we gave them to him.” A groan left (y/n), reminding her of the words she had shared with Dean, how she had tried to convince him that they were hunting down a satanic cult, picking up on the carvings they found, on the signs and symbols. 

The women began to form a circle around the burning stake, chanting words in Latin, words (y/n) couldn’t pick up on. No longer were they focused on her, leaving her standing in the pale shadows of the dark night. Once again she tried to free herself, tugging on the rope as tears ran down her cheeks, tears that only picked up their speed as she felt a warm hand finding hers, making her heart pick up on its beat. 

“We got you, sweetheart, stay quiet for me.” Dean’s voice rang in her ears, forcing her eyes to flutter close for just a second, giving into the relief she felt. The women kept speaking their prayers, kept singing their songs, not noticing how the two brothers freed (y/n), how they guided her through the darkness with quick and quiet steps, leaving the forest behind before the women could notice them. 

……

“Come here.” Dean was sitting on the all too uncomfortable mattress of her motel bed, arms opened. (Y/n) moved closer, freshly showered, in a desperate need to feel Dean close. Without speaking a word she crawled into his opened arms, head resting on his chest, limbs tangled with his. Both were caught in their thoughts, reliving the past hours, glad that the two of them got to share a room while Sam slept down the hallway. Dean’s hand moved up and down her back, enjoying the feeling of the soft fabric of the shirt of his she was wearing, covering her just enough to hide her panties. “I’m sorry, fuck, I’m so sorry for saying all these words, I didn’t mean them, I was angry, at myself.”

“Why?” The word was murmured against the fabric of his dark shirt, hand fisting his flannel, scared that she’d be ripped from him again. A deep, shaky breath left Dean, eyes focused on the parts of her face he could admire from above. 

“Because I’m scared about what you make me feel, it’s been years, and I’m still so fucking scared of what you’re doing to me. I can’t concentrate around you, fuck, every hunt we’re on I’m close to throwing a fit, because I’m so scared you’ll end up hurt.” With her breath hitched in her chest, (y/n) lifted her head off his chest, eyes finding his forest green ones. She reached her hand out to cup his cheek, feeling his stubble pressing into her palm. 

“I feel the same, always have. But I’d rather worry about your safety than not worry about you at all, Dean.” He stared at her for a few moments before he closed the gap between them, lips slowly moving against hers, testing the waters as if he was scared that he was trapped in a dream. (Y/n) was pulled closer by Dean’s hands finding the back of her thighs, making her straddle his lap, hissing as the fabric of his worn out jeans rubbed against the inside of her thighs. 

A few curses left Dean as her clothed panties met his bugle, rubbing against his hardening cock, desperate to be freed from the confines of his clothes. Their moans blended together, forming a sound so sinful they’d end up in the darkest corners of Purgatory. 

“I need to be inside you, finally need to feel you wrapped around my cock.” Dean’s words forced a moan to claw through (y/n), eyes wide as she was flipped around, landing on the mattress with her back pressed against it. She watched Dean pull his flannel and shirt over his head, rising from the bed to step out of his jeans. (Y/n)’s eyes couldn’t help but wander down to his boxers, taking in the sight of his cock pressing against the thin fabric. 

Before she could snap out of her thoughts, Dean had already pushed the shirt she was wearing up her chest, exposing her breasts to his glistening eyes. Their eyes kept holding contact as his mouth found her warm skin, sucking on her hardening nipples, kneading her flesh with his big hands. Fuck, the mere thought of ever missing out on this left her trembling, silently thanking Dean and Sam for rescuing her, for saving her from the high flames. 

“More, please.” Her whispers left Dean smirking, forcing him to kiss his way down her body, fingers moving along the outlines of her damp panties. Once again their eyes met as he pulled the fabric down her legs, nestling between them to push his mouth against her heat. Her moans guided him on, hand finding his hair to tug on his roots, to force him even closer as his tongue brushed through her slit. Dean moaned at the taste of her arousal, hoping that he’d forever get to cherish her taste, finding pleasure in the way she choked on her gasps, how she moaned his name. 

“You taste so sweet, I always knew I’d end up being addicted to you, sweetheart.” Heat flushed through her, urged on by his praises, by the words that left her heart racing and her walls clenching around nothing. (Y/n)’s eyes fluttered close as he pushed two fingers into her tightness, tongue pressed against her clit, teasing the pulsing bundle of nerves. He could tell that it wouldn’t take long for her to let go, no longer used to being touched like this, and certainly not by the man she had been in love with for years. “Want to feel you wrapped around me, want to make you cum with my cock.”

Another “Please” left (y/n), watching him free his cock, pumping himself a few times before he brushed his tip through her slit. Both held their breaths as he pushed into her, forcing her walls apart with a few curses rolling off his tongue. 

“Shit, I’ll never be able to stop fucking you, you feel so good.” Dean felt as if his soul was no longer part of his body, it felt all too unfamiliar to experience something he had wanted for this long, not used to ending up on the good side of fate, guided by a lucky strike. The sound of their bodies meeting echoed through the room, rough thrusts that left (y/n) choking and Dean groaning, hoping that they’d be able to last a few moments longer.

“Don’t you dare stop, I’m begging you.” (Y/n)’s words were murmured against his lips, chasing his mouth for a few more kisses as Dean pushed her closer and closer to the edge. His warm fingers took care of her clit, adding the right amount of pressure to push her into the veil of darkness that wrapped itself around her. With her eyes closed and her head thrown back (y/n) gave Dean enough room to suck on her throat, leaving marks she’d proudly wear the next morning, unable to stop her smile from widening whenever his eyes would flicker down to her throat.

“Come on, cum for me, doll.” Dean’s raspy words pushed her over the edge, moaning his name as he fucked her through her high. He didn’t stop moving, prolonging the moment for long enough, till he had to pull out, relieving himself on her stomach. Their eyes met, lips unable to stop themselves from sharing another kiss before Dean plopped down next to her. He reached for a tissue, cleaning her up with gentle touches, careful not to hurt her. 

“Thank you for rescuing me.” (Y/n)’s whispers forced Dean to open his arms, to pull her closer once again as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“I’ll always rescue you. Tomorrow we’ll take care of these crazy bitches, I promise.”

#Dean Winchester smut #Dean Winchester imagine #Dean Winchester x reader #supernatural imagine

[flowence-writing]

johanna finding out reader sh? 🤔 i'm in desperate need of johanna fanfics 😓

two broken people - j.m.

summary: johanna finds out that you aren’t as ok as you seem.

pairings: johanna x fem!reader

warnings: self harm, depression, suicidal ideation, angst, hurt/comfort

author’s note: if anyone is struggling with these issues, please do not hesitate to reach out to me. you are not alone.

You wondered why you were alive, why you survived. Your hands bloodied with the blood of many. You don’t want to keep living. You don’t deserve it. The hopelessness grips onto your bones, settling deep within your soul. Everything is numb, yet you still smile your fake smile, you still laugh that fake laugh. It didn’t matter how many people you were always around, the inexcusable feeling of being lonely weighs down on your chest.

Johanna has noticed something different about you, but you cannot seem to bring yourself to care. You can’t seem to keep up the act.

After training you were exhausted, mentally and physically. You quickly darted out of the training area, speed walking to Johanna and yours room. When arriving at the room you quietly closed the door, going towards your stash of razors you picked out the sharpest one.

[i tried it like before and this time i made a deep cut]

You rolled up your sleeves, not even wincing at the way they stuck to your past wounds. You took a deep inhale, pressing the razor hard against your skin before you exhaled and drove it deep into your flesh watching as the blood oozes out.

[i thought about my friends and the way i didnt give enough]

Distantly, you should’ve known it would’ve been too deep. The blood starts to ooze out in a faster yet still somewhat sluggish pace, you feel dizzy and lightheaded. Vaguely you thought you didn’t really want to die.

[and i shouldve told my mother, “mom, i love you,” like a good son]

You stumbled into your desk, before you could think much about it you cut even deeper on your other wrist. A smile mixed with relief and remorse carved its way onto your features. You hear the door open, but you can’t really focus on anything but going to lay down.

[but this life is overwhelming and im ready for the next one]

“Y/N! Oh god… what did you do?!” Johanna yelps, running to you immediately. You can barely make out the words she’s saying. All you can think about, is how you’ll finally be free.

[take the blade away from me]

“Let me go…” You whisper, your voice sounds weak and slurred.

[i am a freak, i am afraid that]

Johanna shakes her head, “No! You promised… you promised me.” she says, desperately.

[all the blood escaping me won’t end the pain]

Johanna desperately screams for help, you vaguely see Katniss run in, the shock and despair on her face is heartbreaking.

[and i’ll be haunting all the lives that cared for me]

You can’t seem to get your eyes to stay open, you can hear Johanna screaming, crying, and sobbing, yet you can’t bring yourself to stay awake.

You woke with a start, looking around you you see that you’re in medical. You clench your teeth. Looking down you see the bandages on your wrists and … tears start streaming down your cheeks.

“Y/N? it’ll be ok. i’m here,” You sob even harder at your girlfriends words.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.” You sob into her shoulder, gripping onto her shirt like its your lifeline, and it very well could be.

At least, at least you have Johanna. Two broken people trying to love, trying to heal.

#johanna mason x reader #johanna mason #johanna mason x fem!reader #self insert #tw sh related #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games

[m3talmunson]

Steve Harrington except his mom comes from old money, his father new. So while Steve's mom took his father's last name (reluctantly. She was doing her best to promise that her son would have a good life ahead of him), she got to choose Steve's first, which just happens not to be Steve.

His name is actually Esteban Eberardo Ortiz Harrington, because by God, Maria Harrington would never let her son have an English name since she had to give up her own to promise her son a decent life.

Somewhere along the way she got lost in it all. She chased Mr. Harrington around to make sure he wasn't sleeping with whatever floozie secretary he had at the moment, and in doing so she forgot to be a mother - as much as somebody can just forget that duty.

So, one day Esteban got dropped off at his grandpa's house and became Steve. Then one day Steve's grandfather died and Steve didn't even see his father at the funeral. His father, the dead man's son, sent Maria with flowers to the funeral. Flowers she didn't have a destination for. So, the moment it was over she dragged Steve and the flowers back to the dust-covered Harrington home. She makes some dinner and has a nice night with her son, but as they curl up on the couch and try to settle for the night, she brings him up.

"Mijo, your father. I have to go back to him tomorrow. I have a plane ride in the morning. I have to go sweetheart." She blinks back the tears in her eyes as she delivers the news.

"It's ok mama! I'm 10 now, double digits." He holds out both of his hands, all of his fingers splayed out. "I can take care of things here." He put on his best brave face, something Grandpa Harrington taught him.

"Grandma is going to visit you as much as she can, but she doesn't live near here. You'll be on your own a lot, my sweet sweet boy." She let the tears run at this point, ignoring the musical she had put on the TV to occupy their thoughts.

"Don't cry mama," He curled up into her side. "Wait, Grandma? But she's been gone for longer than Grandpa?"

"No, no, my mama. She'll be up here every so often for you. My brave boy." She kissed the top of Steve's head, peppered a few more against Steve's complaints of tickling.

"Come on mama, Dolly's singing!" He said, and drew his attention back to the TV like it was nothing. They fell asleep on the couch that night. Mr. Harrington never would have approved, but maybe he just didn't need to know.

And that began the life of Steve being alone. At least, most of the time. His grandma did come up every so often. She taught him how to cook, clean, where the stools were, and which ones were tall enough for him to reach the cookie jar. The same cookie jar that stayed in place just incase his parents did come home and happen to give half a shit about it.

When she couldn't be there, over the phone, she taught her little Esteban Spanish. His father never allowed it in the house, but the moment she insisted she be called Abuelita and not Grandma, she piqued Esteban's interest.

He was interested until he got made fun of for the accent. He continued to learn it, but insisted that he be called Steve, the same way she insisted he call her something else. That set the record straight for him.

During high school, she got too frail for him to visit. The Harrington's put money in the bank for Steve, so he began to visit her. He'd fly down to where she was staying, drive once he could. Steve got his license the very first day he could, just to visit her. He planned her funeral when the day came, just a month before Will Byers went missing. That kept him in contact with quite a few of his cousins that way, checked in on everyone and made the rounds while he tried to remain a normal teenager, have a normal girlfriend, live as King Steve, or Steve "The Hair" Harrington. Anything that kept his life nice and neatly in place.

Then, a stupid nail bat was his lifeline. Screw normal, he couldn't trust anyone or anything anymore. Two years later, he got tortured by Russians and then, maybe he could trust someone.

Somewhere between his fall from grace and saving the world for good, he grew to trust a lot of people. Grew to have people at his house all the time, filling that god awful empty house.

He had Eddie over one night when he got a call from his cousin Mariana, she had just finished her freshman year of college in the US, so her English was getting pretty good, but she greeted him in Spanish so he can only return the favor. Steve guessed it was only a matter of time until Eddie and the others found out about him anyways.

So, he responded to Mariana. He had an entire conversation with her, back to the couch that Eddie was sat on. Last he knew Eddie was flipping through movies, but all the noises stopped. At least Steve could assume that maybe he just picked a movie, and maybe get hurt or yelled at or something after the call. He just had to get through this conversation with Mariana.

He heard the crash of tapes falling and had to end it.

"Sorry Mari, I've got to go." He said abruptly in English, and tried his hardest not to slam the phone back into the receiver.

When he turned around, he didn't expect what he saw. Sure, Eddie's jaw was basically on the floor, but he didn't seem angry, not like Steve had expected.

"You- you speak Spanish, Stevie?" Eddie had almost a shocked rasp to his voice, clutching onto the tape in his hand, the one that managed to not fall.

"Yeah, have for about 8 or 9 years now."

"You, Steve Harrington, are fluent in Spanish?"

"Esteban Eberardo Ortiz Harrington, actually. And yeah, my mom is Mexican."

"Est- Esteban???" Eddie laughed out. "Good God Stevie-"

"I know, I know, I should have told you sooner. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hide it, I just- it's hard walking around Hawkins with a Spanish accent, it's just so-" He interrupted Eddie.

"Steve, Stevie, no." It was Eddie's turn to interrupt. "I'm not mad at you sweetheart. Definitely not mad." Eddie hinted at something else.

"You're not mad? What- I-" Steve raised his eyebrow. "What's that look about then?"

Eddie had been out to Steve for a while, and vice-versa. They hadn't exactly not been flirting, so Eddie didn't feel too crazy saying this next part.

"If I'm being so honest, Stevie," Eddie stepped closer into Steve's personal space, "I wouldn't say completely platonic feelings."

"Oh, that's what does it for you, Munson? Really?" Steve teased. Back with the bravado charm.

"I dunno... want to say some more?"

And, of course, the moment he hears it again -the accent Steve's voice works itself into- he's basically frothing at the mouth. He drops the tape he was holding and swings his arms around Steve's neck, only a little awkward considering the lack of height difference.

"I guess it is, Esteban."

"You don't even know what I said!" Steve pretended to act shocked, or pissed or something, but he really didn't care.

"Tell me later," Eddie cut Steve off with a swift kiss, and maybe Steve would settle for later.

Maybe he'd have a lifetime to tell Eddie that all he said was "I really want to kiss you." He had his wish fulfilled anyway.

#guys i did so much research on the meanings of hispanic names for this bc i needed his names to have meaning. it was so important to me #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve stranger things #eddie stranger things #steddie blurb #steddie drabble #steddie fanfic #steddie ficlet #stranger things #steve harringtons parents #steve harringtons mom #latino steve harrington #bc i said so #pls excuse any typos i am 👍🏻 stupid #theo if u see this i will sob

[botanybulbasaur]

Schneider's family ; The significance of Marian

REVERSE 1999 SPOILERS AHEAD : FOR CHAPTERS 1 AND 2 ! Please tread carefully and make sure you only read about what you're willing to know.

I know we're all still completely in shambles from Chap. 2, but I wanted to make a speculation about Schneider-- and a comment about how well she's written !

Let me start with this: In many pieces of media, viewers, listeners and readers alike are told that a character has people they care for. They're told a character has a lover, a wife, kids, a family, a sister. We're told the same about Schneider: that she has 11 older siblings, and that she works in the mafia to support them.

However, it's very rarely that we're given a name and a face for these supposed loved ones. And even rarer is it that they're written well, not just as a ploy for empathy, but as their own character: Ladies, gentlemen, and esteemed guests: I present to you, Marian.

Marian is one of my favorite characters just as a stand-alone: she's realistic, she's anxious, she clings to Schneider like a lifeline-- but she's brave, too. I'd love to do an in-depth analysis on her another time, but we're here for another reason.

Marian, first of all, shows us what Schneider's family is like. How they were raised, what they believe in, who they depend on. Soft topic, I know, but as someone of Italian lineage, it's very important to me that I point this out: Marian is extremely religious.

Immigrants of every kind tend to be religious. It gives them much more faith than they ever could have: a new lifeline. They managed to make it across such a winding sea? Oh, thank the lord. They haven't been kicked out of the Americas for emigration? Thank you, holy one. There's so many more reasons for this than "they need something they don't have"- maybe the fact that the rendition of god in every religion is said to love everybody, not just those who were born into wealthy families with the bluest eyes and the blondest hair.

When in a moment with no reason, and all different kinds of desperate measures being needed.. Schneider does what her family coaxes her to. She prays.

(I can't find a screenshot, but please refer to the iconic "I didn't know you prayed" scene, and the screenshot directly below this sentence.)

I also want to point out a large difference between Schneider and her family: Schneider's perspective on a 'god' differs so, so much from her family's.

She looks to whoever may be above, in her world, scornfully-- at least, in the present day. In her past, there is a particularly impactful line I want to debunk.

"The god there ... loves the world." Schnider's family seems to believe that god was the one guiding them, the one who will forgive them-- Schneider believed that it was a whole different entity. This kid believes that the god in Sicily, whoever they may be, does not love the world-- and mio dio, if that's not fucked up, I don't know what is.

And, when Schneider comes to America and sees that shit isn't as it's cut off to be, she's resentful of whoever this god may be. She gives a pray as her last bet-- what her family wants.

And it's not that she doesn't believe in this god-- no. She just doesn't believe they love her.

"Finally forgive me" -- Finally being the key word here. She's lived all her life never being treated to mercy or being 'forgiven for her sins' -- and at her most fragile, exposed moment, she relents to what her family has taught her. To what she truly believes-- to Sicily, to Marian, her sorella. Maybe even all 11 sorelle and her parents.

And, again, they're different at face value. Marian is calm, kind. She dresses modest and has her hair grown out: she's timid, too, not befitting of a mafia boss. She's different from her younger sister.. but she's still important. She shows us another side of Schneider: and, more importantly, she shows us what-- no, who Schneider is fighting for.

Marian provides us with extremely beneficial background context of where Schneider comes from-- and, in that process, gives many of us someone to empathize with. Yes, I too know somebody at least a little like her. You do too, likely.

Maybe, you're even like Schneider-- maybe she's someone you'd aim to protect.

,,aaand that's the little lore rant. Whew! Now to study for my math finals. I hope you have a good day :)

#reverse 1999 #schneider greco #schneider reverse 1999 #schneider #lore #hello internet #welcome to #game theory #hahaha this is so stupid #never let me talk about schneiders family ever again or im dumping the italian bloodline lore #certified pasta muncher schneider speculation #yelena my beloved #yelena greco #yea that's her real name #god reverse 1999 makes me sick #/pos? maybe?? #also i love ms z so so so so so so much #my skurnrkly doo #the silly #thats it #CLASSIC BLUNDER SCHNEIDER #CLASSIC BLUNDER

[asillylittleistik]

do you have any headcanons for alpha karlach with omega tav? or fic ideas? I love her so much🤭

KARLACH MY BELOVEDDDDD

I have so many thoughts on this, I love Karlach so much

Also, you didn't specify if you wanted this to be SFW or not, so I'm gonna play it safe and keep it mostly clean, but if you ever want an NSFW fic or some headcanons, just send in a new request and I can write some for sure

Alpha Karlach With Omega Reader

Okay can I just say that you will never in your life be with someone who is both as lovingly gentle and violently protective as Karlach

I have a headcanon that, since Karlach was sent to Avernus at a fairly young age, and hasn't been out for very long at all, that you are her first relationship

She's heard all the horror stories from you and some other omegas about creepy alphas who only care about hooking up, and will take any opportunity or push any boundary to get what they want

And being one of those creepy alphas is the last thing Karlach wants

So she is so gentle with you, almost as if you were made of porcelain

She's so subservient to your every need that someone who didn't know better might assume you're the alpha

But she just cares about your well-being so much

On the other hand, though, she is extremely cautious that none of those creepy alphas get anywhere near you

If she sees someone checking you out, flirting a little bit, or god forbid trying to take you out anywhere, she's at your side in an instant

She usually doesn't even need to say much, her appearance alone is intimidating enough

A tall, muscular, pissed-off tiefling, covered in battle scars, carrying a great axe on her back, and literally on fire is usually enough to scare creeps off

But for those that don't get the hint, she isn't afraid to get her hands a little dirty

And then she's immediately at your side again, cupping your face and asking if you're okay as if she doesn't have blood dripping off her knuckles

She just cares so much that you never feel objectified or pressured by anyone, especially her

When your first heat comes, she, respectfully, tries to stay as far away as possible

She doesn't want to take advantage of you in such a delicate state

It's not until one day, after a long day of adventuring, she comes back absolutely DEVASTATED to find her stuffed bear, Clive, is nowhere to be seen

It isn't until she makes her way over to your tent that she sees you've made a little nest in there of all the bedrolls and pillows you all have pillaged in your journey

And then she sees you, bare naked, dripping with sweat, and hugging onto Clive like it was your lifeline

And when her eyes meet yours, all you can say is "he smells like you."

You know she can't leave after that.

For a little while, there's this torturous little game you and Karlach have to play

You want to be around her, but just being in the same tent isn't enough. You want to touch her and feel her body all around yours

But Karlach on a normal day is too hot to touch, and horny Karlach? Yeah, she's nearly set the tent on fire a few times now

She makes peace with it, with not being able to touch you, as terrible as it is for both of you

But you guys find a few... workarounds...

But oh man, the day that Dammon fixes Karlach's engine

No amount of pulling the blankets over their ears could help anyone keep the noise out

It isn't until day 3 that Shadowheart finally gets fed up and casts a silence spell over your tent

But Karlach can't help it, it's what an entire life of not even being near an omega does to her

At the end of your heats, when your brains are a little less foggy, she's back to giving you everything you could ever need

Water? Food? Maybe a small healing spell to helping your aching body? She is an aftercare goddess

That's all she cares about, anyway. In her mind, her pleasure is always second to yours

After the tough hand you've been dealt in life, her one goal is to make you feel special and taken care of

And, for someone as new to being in a relationship as Karlach is, she's doing a pretty damn good job at it

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav #karlach #karlach cliffgate #karlach x reader #karlach x tav #do you have any idea how hard it is to find karlach gifs on here? #unbelievable #this site needs to simp harder

[byunpum]

More moments in the life of AUNT sully.

Pair: Aunt human reader x sully family x mate na'va x friends

Warning: none, Mention of trauma, death, nice ending

Note: This one was really hard, I was debating too much, but I still hope you like it. This was a compilation of 3 request. They were very similar, so I decided to put them together. I leave them here so you can read them "HERE". By the way, in one part of the reading the reader can breathe pandora's air? sorry, I forgot she was human and not the hybrid version. So pretend she can breathe xD

Request: @ilovechickenwings Maybe aunt series she find love and gets pregnant and all of the kids gets sad because they think she might forget them.

AVATAR MASTERLIST  (check all my auntie sully series)

Life had been very quiet for you the last 3 years, you had a great family, your son and a quiet place to rest. Little by little you had found your place in pandora, being a human was something very difficult to do but not impossible. Or so you said, since you had no choice. There were 3 types of humans in Pandora, those who had their avatars, those who didn't have avatars because they didn't want to or weren't part of the avatar project and on the other hand there was you… the only member of your group. The humans who could not have avatars because of their genetics. You could be Tom and Jake's sister…and they could be compatible with an avatar body. But your genetics were not compatible, and when it met with that of a navi. It practically broke the lifeline. Grace tried many times, she even came close, but always failed. You must admit that you were very jealous when you first saw Jake in your older brother's navi body. You wanted that…grace even tried to see if you were compatible. You didn't care about being a man in a navi's body, you just wanted to be one. But it didn't happen.

You got used to the fact that you could never experience what it was like to be a real navi. You had prepared yourself so much. You knew everything, from the language, to their customs. And the fact that you lived with them made you a very wise person on the subject of the Navi. So life in these last days had been easy for you, you were so happy. And even more so now… you were getting closer to a certain navi, who had taken an interest in you. No, you hadn't planned it… it had never crossed your mind to fall in love with a navi man. You were of different species and that was very clear to you…but with him. It was impossible. Ruk'e… was a very quiet navi, too quiet to be true. He was the storyteller of the Omaticaya clan. A serene navi, who was in charge of taking care of the farming, telling stories of the travelers. He was not a warrior, or someone who caused trouble. His presence was almost unseen by others, he liked to spend time in the forest with nature and devote time to himself. And for some reason, he had grown very fond of you. You used to go and sit by the campfire, while he told the old stories of the clan. Stories about the warriors, battles and many other things. Usually after three stories, the omaticaya who were listening would leave. But you were staying, looking at him with enthusiasm.

You loved to hear about the clan's past, and about other clans. You looked like a little girl, sitting with your legs crossed waiting for him to continue. At first it was strange to him, he had contact with humans but it was always at a long distance. The things that were said about humans were not very good…so at first he kept his distance. Picking up his things as he finished, he said goodbye politely. Leaving you alone at the campfire, but it wasn't until one night you got up the courage to ask him.

See how he is getting up from the floor, picking up his materials. He liked to use hand-carved wooden animal figures. To make his stories more entertaining. You approach him carefully. "Hello" you speak, you looked nervous. You didn't want to make him uncomfortable, you always sat backwards in the back corner. "Hello" says ruk'e making the gesture with his hands. You copy his movements. "I wanted to… I wanted to" you stutter, he laughs a little. And with all the patience in the world he waits for you to feel comfortable to continue. "I wanted to ask…if you could tell me more about the mountain clans?" you ask, you had your head down. You feel someone take your chin and lift it, you lift your face. And you see how he has a sweet smile on his face, it was so charming. "Sure little flower, it would be my pleasure" he speaks, his voice was calm and sweet. It was like a quiet melody. You sit down in front of him. He watches you settle in and you look at him intently. From that moment on… you were never apart again. He used to come looking for you, and you always went to listen to him every night. Things came naturally and your feelings for each other grew quickly.

Eventually after a while, you and ruk'e became a pair. This surprised everyone…first because ruk'e was very traditional and second because you were a human. But this didn't matter to the two of you, you had your own little world in which this spider. You had introduced him to the man, not long after he started courting you. The man was surprised that you did not have the father of the child by your side. Omaticayas are very monogamous, and it is very rare to see a woman alone with her child. But you explained everything to him…from the beginning to the end. You thought he wouldn't understand, but thanks to eywa he did. And you were even more surprised when he hugged you and kissed you on your forehead. "You are brave my yawntu" says ruk'e.

Spider fell in love with ruk'e. He had become his father, of course… he was not a normal Navi father. Hunting? Spider had to kill only what was necessary, there was no reason to kill a creature to show off his talents. Ruk'e thought hunters were sometimes a bit silly. Fighting? Why do you have to fight…violence begets more violence. This was a direct joke to tsu'tey, who was always making comments about ruk'e. Of course, spider never cared about any of this…he always obeyed his father. And thanks to that he was the kindest and most lovable boy in all of Pandora. And that's saying a lot, because the mo'at itself praised spider's upbringing. "His parents are raising a beautiful child," said the woman, watching as spider helped a pregnant woman, and he was only 5 years old.

The need for your family to grow was very evident in your eyes. You wanted to have more members in your family, all three were fine. But you knew that ruk'e wanted to have a child, but you were hurt to know that you couldn't give him that. You couldn't get pregnant by him in the first place, could you? You weren't sure…no one was. You could be compatible, sexually, and have no problem with that. But creating a baby together? Mmm you don't think it's possible. And having an avatar? That was history. Or so you thought, because someone gave you a surprise.

"Spider honey…come here!!!" you yell a little, while calling the little guy. You needed to clean him up, his mouth was all dirty. Spider was in the hammock playing with his father. "Honey…leave him alone. He looks cute like that," says ruk'e, while he blows a trumpet on spider's cheeks, and spider laughs. You start to look up at him. You hear someone approaching and calling you at the edge of your hut. You had moved in with ruk'e days after joining as a couple. The hut had been arranged to your liking and comfort. It sure was different from the other traditional huts, but ruk'e didn't mind. "Hey…Y/N can I talk to you for a second?" says norm, you could see he had some papers in his hands.

"Something wrong?" you approach, stepping out of the hut a bit. Spider signals to his father, for you both to go peek in. "I have very good news," says Norm, with a big smile. "What happened? Say it already!" you speak. "I think I managed to create an avatar for you," says Norm. For a moment you felt like all the air in your body was gone, you even felt dizzy. You stare at norm in surprise. "You're not kidding? Are you?" you couldn't believe it, finally. "No…I just need to run some tests and take blood samples. The avatar will grow in one of the capsules we have free. It might take about 5 years to grow, but…I think we can do it" Norm is so excited. Secretly he had been working on this project in secret. You jump up, and hug Norm, "By eywa…I am!!!! Ahhhh RUK'E!!!" You scream, running towards the hut. To your surprise, you see that your mate and your son were standing there, with a giant smile on their faces. "Did you hear everything??!!!!" you speak, you see as ruk'e nods his head smiling even bigger. He kneels down so you can hug him. "Finally…finally!!!" you feel like you could explode, this is really happening? You couldn't believe it.

Days and weeks went by, you went every day to the lab to see your avatar. She looked so much like you. Your excitement was so great, this was really happening. Jake was next to you looking at the avatar's body in the capsule. You were both silent as you watched the avatar make involuntary movements. "Are you sure about this?" says Jake, you look up. "Yes…I've never been more sure in my life about something like this" you speak, jake can see your smile widen and you continue to stare at your future body. He knew how much you wanted this. That same night, you were lying on your partner's chest. Ruk'e was stroking your hair, while singing a lullaby. "at last I can give you a son" you speak, you can hear ruk'e's voice stop. You lift your head slightly from your chest to see him. He was looking at you and had a serious expression. "Y/N I don't mind having a child. Sure…I want to. But it's not important to me. I don't want you to do this 'new body' thing for me. If you do it I want it to be for you" says ruk'e, his voice sounded distressed.

"But…you know I can't, and it's almost impossible that" you start to speak, but ruk'e takes your face in his hands and gives you a soft kiss. "I know…but we have spider, he's enough. Don't worry about it" he laughs. You settle back into his chest, hugging his chest tighter. "I want you to know that no matter what happens…I will always love you" ruk'e speaks, pulling you closer to his body. They both fall asleep quickly. That same morning, norm's scream jolted you awake. The man was agitated and from the look on his face. Something bad had happened. You get up quickly, and run to Norm, "You have to come to the lab" says Norm, you don't even get ready and run away. "Ruk'e stay with the boy…I'll be right back" you yell. Taking one last look around, watching as your partner is worriedly trying to calm the anxious spider.

You and Norm hurry to the lab. He didn't want to say anything to you on the way, nerves were killing you. What could be so bad that Norm would arrive at your house worried like this. As you enter the lab, your eyes widen. You see some of your friends surrounding the capsule where your avatar was, trying to stabilize it. You rush over, peering through the glass to see how it's warping. The scientists were doing what they could. "Get her out of there!!! " you shout, looking at norm in desperation. "We can't…she would die!!!" says norm, trying to install a tube so we can give her some medicine. All was chaos in the lab, you could see your friends running from one side to the other. While others were trying to stabilize her. You were a bit far away, this was not your field. So you decide to stay away and let them do their job. Out of nowhere, you hear a silence and see how everyone starts to look at each other. The machine that was checking your avatar's pulse had stopped and you noticed this. "Norm? NORM WHAT'S GOING ON?" you approach the man, who is looking at the capsule. You can see a tear come out of his eye. "I'm so sorry…I swear I tried" says Norm, it couldn't be true. This wasn't happening to you. "No, no, no…why? Why" your voice breaks, as tears well up in your eyes. You look at your avatar, she had stopped moving and looked a little pale. You start to cry and fall to the ground. You couldn't stop… you were so close. So close. Norm sits down next to you, and pulls you into his arms to hug you.

"Love…take it easy. I need you to breathe" ruk'e says as he holds you between his legs. Everyone was in the lab. Jake, Neytiri, ruk'e, norm, max…everyone. Norm had called them after the event, he thought it would be best. You were very upset. "And what happened? I wasn't well?" asked Jake, he was worried. "There was a glitch in her system… I thought the Y/N DNA had finally come together. But no…there was a break in her genetics. This caused a heart attack" says max. Neytiri takes a deep breath, she couldn't understand much of what max said, but she understood that your avatar had died. She was holding spider in her arms, she had told ruk'e that she would take care of the child that night so that he would take care of you. "He's a very young avatar…it's a shame," norm says. Everyone falls silent. While you are still crying, hugging your mate's neck. Ruk'e was doing his best to calm you down, but he knew you had to let all your emotions out.

Norm said he was going to take care of the body, that there was nothing to do. Your avatar was still too young, so he couldn't handle the whole process of genetic acceptance. You were devastated, ruk'e had taken you home. You were both sitting in silence, while your mate cut up some fruit. Your gaze is lost to anywhere in the hut. "Where is spider?" you ask, your voice sounded so sad. "He is with neytiri and jake…they will take care of him for the night" he speaks. You just answer him with a "mmm". Ruk'e walks over to you, taking your hand to kiss your palm. "everything will be fine" you raise your gaze, it looked lost. Ruk'e had to look at you for several more seconds, to be able to find you because you didn't seem to be there. He knew how hurt you were, you had put all your hopes in this. And now he was gone.

"I failed…again I failed. I failed in everything, what have I done to create all this" your tears begin to fall. "Why don't things work out for me? I'm a fucking failure" you cry, as ruk'e comes closer to put his arms around you. "Love you are not a failure" he speaks, you pull away. "Of course I am… he was right. I'm a fucking failure, I didn't make him happy. I'll never make you happy. I'm never going to get what I studied for so many years. I'll never… and it's all because of me. It's all my damn fault" you lower your head as your moans are heard throughout the hut. Ruk'e lets you cry, and respects your space. He doesn't usually get upset, but now he had a feeling of rage. He knew the damage that man (quaritch) had done to you. What he had left in you, so many years of mistreatment and you being so young destroyed you. Ruk'e turns to you, taking your hands and giving them a squeeze. You look up, and you can see tears welling up in his eyes as well. "I know you are hurt…I understand. I can't heal that wound. But I can be your support while you do" ruk'e takes a deep breath, and wipes away a few tears.

"I told you the story of the Binary sunshine flower?" ruk'e says, moving closer. To now stand next to you, draping one of his arms over your shoulder, pulling you closer to his body. "Ruk'a love…" you start to moan, but he continues.

"Once upon a time there was a Binary sunshine flower called Hewngea. Unlike the other flowers, Hewngea could not bear fruit or seeds. This made her feel left out and rejected for not fulfilling her traditional purpose. Hewngea felt sad and believed she was a failure compared to the other flowers. However, she was unaware that its beauty and fragrance attracted butterflies, which were key pollinators in the garden. One day, Hewngea saw how the yayo fluttered around her, collecting pollen on their wings. She realized that, despite not fulfilling the commonly accepted floral purpose, their existence was vital to the butterflies' life cycle and to maintaining diversity in the garden." Counts ruk'e, as he hugs you more.

"Ruk'e don't be like that…" you start to speak, but he ignores you and continues telling the story. "As the yayo flew from flower to flower, they carried Hewngea's pollen with them, helping to pollinate other plants and ensuring the reproduction of the surrounding flora. Hewngea realized then that, although she could not bear fruit or seeds, her role in the yayo colony was essential. From that moment on, she embraced her uniqueness and took pride in being a source of life and beauty for the yayos and her colony" spoke ruk'e, maintaining his silence for a moment.

He makes a quick movement, for now he is in front of you. His tail wagged from side to side, while his eyes searched yours. You pet the side of his face. "You are so important to me…you are my whole life. You are spider's mother, his mother. You are the best sister and the best aunt ever. You have a family that loves you, and if you were gone they would fall apart. I would fall apart. You are not a failure love…you are everything that is good and beautiful in this family" says ruk'e. You wipe away your tears, and move in for a kiss. For this reason you had fallen in love with him, how could he be so adorable? How could he be so… him?

"I see you" you speak, watching as he moves closer to your face. Leaning his forehead against yours. "I see you" there was a comforting silence. You knew he would be there for you, you knew he wouldn't fail you. That he wouldn't claim you for anything…he wasn't that man. No one was that man…you no longer had to meet his standards. Now you could be you. "Why don't we finish eating and then rest" says ruk'e, you laugh a little. "Yes…I agree" you say, coming closer to give him a big hug.

It had been three weeks since that event, and little by little you had recovered. It wasn't easy to say goodbye to your last chance to have an avatar body. But you were working it out. After all, you had everything you had asked for. You had your son, your mate and your family. What else could happen? Neytiri had asked you with her to go to the nearest lake to take the children to play. They were all between the ages of 2 and 6 years old, and they did not sit still and got bored easily. You agree, you didn't want to be alone for too long. They are both sitting on one of the rocks near the water. They were talking about everything, about the latest events that had happened. They might live nearby, but they both had lives of their own, so they were making the most of this time as friends.

It wasn't long before you started to feel sick. You swore that you saw the water in the stream and you saw it was white and your eyesight was a little blurry. Neytiri noticed how you were rocking back and forth, the movement was slow. "Y/N are you okay?" she asks, holding your shoulders. You were fainting, and just like that, you were in Neytiri's arms. "Y/N!!! no!!! Wake up!!!" was the last thing you heard, after that. You didn't know anything else. When you were finally able to regain consciousness, you could hear several voices in the distance. You could hear your brother jake, neytiri and ruk'e. They were a little upset but their everything was fine. They were a little upset but their whole mood was one of happiness. Even norm's voice, this made you open your eyes quickly.

You hadn't spoken to Norm since the event in the lab. Everyone saw your eyes widen. "You are awake" says mo'at, who was doing several massages to get you up. You see that you have something on your belly, and several wet cloths of a paste on your forehead. Thank eywa that you were now wearing na'vi clothes, otherwise this would be a disaster. Everyone comes around you, and ruk'e kneels down to stand next to you. You see everyone is looking at you with that stupid grin. "What the hell is going on? Jake?" you look at your brother, and you just swear you see him crying. "We have to tell you something" says Neytiri sitting on the other side of you. You look at her with concern. "What? Am I going to die?" you ask. Norm laughs. "You are pregnant," says Neytiri, very happy. Squeezing your hand, while you open your mouth in shook. "WHAT?" you shift your gaze to look at your partner. Ruk'e ascends with his face, and you turn to look at jake, and he copies ruk'e. You almost faint again, but mo'at holds you up. "Easy…we're here" says neytiri, you turn your gaze to her. She looked so happy for you.

You couldn't understand how you had become pregnant. It was almost impossible, if you couldn't with a human, why with a na'vi? What if you hurt your baby? Since your genetics are not compatible? Oghhhh you were going into crisis. After you recovered and felt better. Norm stopped by your home, he wanted you to go to the lab. But you didn't feel ready to visit that place yet. "How did this happen? How is this possible?" you ask. "Mmmm I don't know…I really don't know what to tell you. This is a one in a million chance" says Norm, you can see how happy he is. "But if I…I hurt him. That I wouldn't stand for" you speak, norm takes your hand. "I'll be there to help you and take care of you. I promise you everything will be okay" norm speaks. You laugh, and squeeze his hand. He always keeps his promise…always.

4 months of pregnancy had passed and everything was happening just right. It still felt so unreal to you. Sometimes when you are alone you swear it was eywa who blessed you with this pregnancy. Everything was calm again, you were sitting in the hut. You felt tired, it was a na'vi baby inside you. You might be 4 months, but you felt 7 months. Norm was always monitoring you, keeping an eye on everything. You were grateful to have your friends and family all together. You sat there resting while you watched spider and lo'ak play in the hut. Lately lo'ak always wanted to be by your side, so it was normal to see him at your house early in the morning. You watch as the two children approach, while spider leans down and places his face on your belly.

"I hear his heartbeat!!!" says spider, excited. The child had recently turned 6 years old, and is very active. Lo'ak mimics his movements, you stroke his hair while your nephew listens carefully to what is in your belly. See how his little eyes open, lo'ak has na'vi hearing so he can literally hear everything clearly. "Wowwwwwww" shouts lo'ak. "It's great?" you speak, stroking lo'ak's cheek. " Aunt Y/N…it's going to be a girl" lo'ak says, you look at him curiously. While spider nudges him a little. "How do you know!!!"? spider is already getting annoyed. "I just know," lo'ak says, rolling his shoulders up. "Lo'ak has magical powers" you joke, tickling both children. You were anxious to be a mother to your second child, finally.

Dictionary: Yoya [bird ]

p.s: I know that in the request they want aunt sully to have a na'vi body, but I decided not to do it. Since in other requests she is always represented as human. So leave her as human, I see no reason to change her. Being human and being the weird Aunt of the family is her job.

I am gradually answering all the requests. Wow…thank you very much, I love you very much <3

#avatar x y/n #avatar x you #avatar x reader #avatar 2022 #avatar the way of water #neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #neteyam x human reader #loak x human reader #loak x fem reader #lo'ak imagine #lo'ak x human reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam imagine #jake sully x reader #jake sully #jake sully x human reader #neytiri x human reader #neytiri imagine #neytiri #kiri sully #kiri sully x human reader #female y/n #human reader #human y/n #spider x reader #spider socorro #spider socorro sully #spider socorro x human reader

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for talking on the phone while shopping?

So this happened months ago but it still weighs on me when I’m reminded of it and I want to know if I was an asshole, if I’m being dramatic, etc.

For context I have PTSD and AVPD (avoidant personality disorder - think social anxiety, but much more intense, lifelong, and you can’t ‘cure’ it or really medicate it).

For a very long time I didn’t leave my house at all. The last year or so I’ve been really working on it and I can do small things like go to a nearby shop, but sometimes I still have bad days where I can’t do that without having someone with me.

I moved into a new place and it was ideally located, there was a small corner shop literally seconds from my front door on the same little street. It was the only store in that area so it was my only option and I was lucky it was so near. However because the area was unfamiliar it really set off my mental illnesses and for the first couple of months living there I couldn’t make myself go out of my home, needing my sisters (who are wonderful) or my partner to bring me basic groceries or go with me.

One day I wanted to take that step but I couldn’t make myself do it completely alone (trust me I tried, I was sitting for several hours with my jacket on trying to psych myself up to go). Eventually I asked my partner, who was too busy to come with me, if they could be on the phone with me while I went - this sometimes helps because it gives me something to focus on that’s not the people around me and lets me feel like I have a lifeline of sorts. They agreed and eventually I worked up the courage to walk to the store.

I got in and had the phone to my ear but was keeping my voice as quiet as I could, though I was the only person in the shop aside from the woman (maybe 50s-60s) behind the till, so I didn’t feel as bad as I usually would about disturbing other shoppers etc. I picked up basic stuff, got to the till, put the phone on mute and put it down on the counter so I could have my hands free to bag things up.

The woman was acting a little weird, just kind of short and giving me looks, but I was just kind of trying to get out as fast as possible so I didn’t think too much of it. I asked her if I could have a bag and she didn’t seem to hear me. Asked again and she said okay. After she’d scanned everything she scrunched up my receipt and went to throw it away and she noticed I was still hesitating, so she asked if I’d wanted to keep it and I said “No sorry I’m just waiting for the bag”

And she just. Blew up.

She started screaming about how maybe if I’d been paying attention to her instead of my phone I would have asked earlier, how I was rude, how it ruined her day to have customers like me. For the first few seconds I remember kind of weakly smiling because I thought she was being jokingly mad, because that’s how absolutely out of nowhere it was - just 1-100 in a second. I still remember the look in her eyes when she was shouting at me, like… I can’t even describe how much genuine anger and hatred was in her face, her eyes were twitching and she was genuinely shaking with anger. Raised voices and anger in general are one of my biggest PTSD triggers so this just… broke me. She was holding my groceries to her chest while I kept trying to reach for them so I couldn’t leave and I just had to stand there and let her shout. Another customer came in so I didn’t even feel like I could argue back so I just grabbed my stuff and basically ran home and then broke down.

I was completely back to square one and I felt like it instilled that I couldn’t leave my home and be independent because the first time I’d gotten the courage to go out mostly-alone this had happened.

I didn’t want to put in a complaint because I didn’t want to be That Person, but my mother ended up calling the manager on my behalf and after she followed up he said he’d spoken to her but no more detail than that.

For the rest of the time I lived there I didn’t go back to the store even with people except on hours I knew she wasn’t there, because my sister ended up asking around the area and someone told her they knew who she was talking about because she had a reputation of being “like that” and gave her her working hours so I could avoid her.

I eventually moved away again and didn’t need to use the shop anymore, but this was brought back again because a few weeks ago I was passing through with my sister and we dropped by so my sister could grab something, and the woman was there again stocking shelves. As soon as she saw me she completely stopped what she was doing to just stare at me, then started aggressively throwing the things onto the shelves before going back to the till. My sister would probably have said something if she’d been rude in front of her, but she was completely fine to her and served her politely.

I didn’t really realise how badly it was still affecting me until then because I was just standing frozen in front of the door waiting to be able to leave and my hands were shaking really badly.

So AITA for being on my phone in a shop and being rude? The reasons I think I could be TA are that she treated my sister perfectly fine, when I told family about it afterwards some of them said that in her defense being on my phone while shopping was pretty rude, and I got my mother to complain to her boss about her (even though I don’t think she got in trouble I think she was probably mad about this)

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[poppy-metal]

need your thots on ex!jordan (or toxic!ballet au after the tribbing incident) calling ur name when going at it with a diff person. living rent free in their (my) mind frr.

- 🐞

i feel very good about it, we SHOULD be haunting their every waking thought and ruining every potential relationship or hookup they try to have. it takes jordan out of the moment too, when the fog fades and the girl - or guy - under them rematerializes and they remember its not you. they're quick to call them an uber and get them out, irritated and the buzz of a good orgasm ruined by your image seared into their head. they spend the rest of the night stalking your socials, gritting their teeth when they see you looking happy and smiley, arm looped around some dudebros shoulder - and they wonder if he fucks you as good as they did - knows he doesn't but is still pissed he's been inside you at all.

god, i love ex!jordan. even more when they're the one trying to move on - but they fucking cant. and you dont make it easy, because you cant let them go either. and knowing jordan has a soft spot for you, will always be there for you when it really truly matters, is something you cling to like a lifeline. something you abuse sometimes, on nights when being alone is too hard.

eventually jordan tries to move on with a mutual friend, and you get even more ammo when she comes to you in tears - angry - "why can't you just let them go." and you blink, startled, wondering what she means. she clears it up with, "they said your name. while we were - god. you both are so fucked up."

and it fills you with jealousy and euphoria all at once. you hate the idea of jordan being with anyone, much less someone you both know, but god, it makes you giddy to know they're thinking of you - that they have to think of you - to cum.

you think it might be time to call them. you know they'll answer.

#ask #🐞 anon #toxic reader n toxic jordan being toxic exes v important to me in fact #jordan li x reader

[everythingacotarbxm1012]

Nightmares & Dreams

Summary - Cassian just needed some physical contact to help him sleep.

A/N - Friendly reminder that canon cassian does like physical contact. Also, it’s short but I just needed to get something out there so here it is! 620 words.

*Don’t repost or translate my work without my permission. *These characters and world do not belong to me.

🌌✨🌌

Cassian was known for many things. To the entirety of Prythian he was an Illyrian, a warrior, a General––Lord of Bloodshed. To his family he was a brother, a friend, a jokester, and a poor diplomat, who went to Rita’s for the drinks, not the dancing.

His life was really rather simple. Get up, train, train some more, maybe make a few visits required of him. Eat, sleep. The sleep was less predictable. Somehow there was this magic belief that he was so strong and he really only suffered injuries. His work came with more than physical consequence.

Cassian had injured and killed countless people during his lifetime. When the carriage was over he often found himself vomiting, sometimes mourning his victims––the guilt pumping through his veins. Guilt that chased him even when he slept. He had become used to the lack of sleep. It wasn’t uncommon for Cassian to wake up two or three times throughout the night from his nightmares. Flashes of death all around him, and then he was suddenly sitting up in his bed, in a cold sweat.

Cassian had also grown used to the following hour of lying awake, unable to get himself to fall back asleep. That hour alone with his thoughts, the images from the nightmares flashing before him. Then there were some mornings when he didn’t try to fall back asleep. Those were the mornings that people took him as a dedicated warrior who rose extra early to train, not a general running from his nightmares.

Then you entered the picture. For the number of times he had been to Rita’s Cassian questioned how you had never caught his eye. A beautiful female Illyrian freely dancing on the floor amongst others, lost in the music.

“Cassian! Cassian! Did you… oh–” Mor said before realizing Cassian was already heading for you. She subtly smirked to herself. 

Somehow between the many bodies and loud music, Cassian managed to find himself in an intimate conversation, one that flowed effortlessly. The following night Cassian found himself at Rita’s again, but unlike past nights he didn’t head straight to the bar.

“She’s over there,” Mor said with a grin, pointing towards where you were dancing. 

Cassian didn’t respond, making his way to you––his reputation parting the crowd for him. It happened again. Hours of conversation only this time Cassian found you in his bed that night. It felt like he had barely fallen asleep when he was plagued with a nightmare.

He stood in the middle of a field, everyone dead around him and then he saw Rhys, Feyre. Cassian turned his head to see Az and Mor. Nesta’s body over Elain’s, protecting her sister until her last breath. Then he was down in the library again and he was being dragged away down, down, down. 

But for the first time something called to him, to pull him away from the Bryaxis. “General? General?! Cassian!”

Everything blurred around him and suddenly was back in bed…next to you. Cassian glanced over to you, his chest rising and falling rapidly. 

“Cassian,” you could see the panic in his eyes and without a second you wrapped the Lord of Bloodshed in your arms.

Cassian didn’t protest, a fuzzy feeling filling his body. He adored physical contact. He clung to you like you were a lifeline, his arms tightly around your middle until his heartbeat slowed and for the first time in his life it didn’t take an hour to find sleep, only half that time. Just before Cassian completely drifted off he felt a tug at his chest, a feeling he had waited for all his life, a feeling that told him you were his dream.

#cassian x reader #cassian acotar x reader #feyre x rhysand #cassian acotar #reader #feyre archeron #rhysand acotar #azriel acotar #mor acotar #bryaxis #nesta archeron #elain archeron #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar oneshot

[edenesth]

How I Met Your Mother

Pairing: husband!Yuta x wife!reader

AU: non-idol au

Word Count: 4.9k

Summary: An innocent question from your eight-year-old son takes you and your husband on a trip down memory lane, nearly a decade ago. You both recount the story of how you first met, where Yuta heroically rescued you from an attempted abduction.

A/N: Based on a dream I had of Yuta, I just knew I had to write about it.

MAIN MASTERLIST

"Mama, papa, how exactly did the two of you first meet?"

Your son, Yuki, was going through an old photo album mainly filled with photos of you and your husband before he was born.

Seeing the younger versions of his parents suddenly piqued his curiosity, making him realise that neither you nor Yuta had ever shared the story of how you initially crossed paths.

Yuta beamed, pulling you closer as you both fondly watched your son flip through the carefully curated album, his eyes sparkling with intrigue. It must have been fascinating for him to catch a glimpse of his parents' lives before his existence.

As memories of your first encounter flooded your thoughts, you couldn't help scrunching up your face, earning a chuckle from your husband as he planted an affectionate kiss on the side of your head.

The way you and he first met wasn't exactly a pleasant memory for you, despite Yuta occasionally bringing it up to brag and tease you about being your knight in shining armour.

It was an unforgettable experience, to say the least.

Although it had been borderline traumatic for you, it was the spark that ignited Yuta's protective instincts whenever it came to you.

You rolled your eyes, a small smile gracing your lips, while your husband cleared his throat eagerly, excited to finally share the story of the beginning of your love story with your son.

"Yuki, my boy, you have no idea how long I've been waiting for you to grow up enough to ask about this."

Your son burst into laughter at his dad's dramatic tone, the exchanged knowing glances between his parents only fueling his curiosity about the story.

"Oh boy, here we go again." You joked but leaned in closer, snuggling into your husband's shoulder, your heart fluttering as he instinctively tightened his hold around you.

"Alright, let's see... It all began one night about ten years ago..."

Your heart thudded loudly in your chest as you continued to distance yourself from the unfamiliar man who had been suspiciously following you for what felt like hours.

It took a while before you realised what was happening.

Perhaps it was your own fault for choosing to go stock up on groceries all alone at this time of the night. Sure, your neighbourhood wasn't necessarily the safest, but at least there hadn't been any crazy crime stories from around the area as of yet.

Well, it looks like I might be the first one.

Clutching your shopping bags tightly, you opted for yet another detour, determined not to lead this stranger back to your home, where he could potentially abduct you or worse, have his way with you, without anyone ever finding out.

A million thoughts raced through your mind, as you imagined all the horrifying scenarios that might unfold tonight. Panic coursed through your veins and you couldn't afford to waste another minute.

Hastily, you pulled your phone out of your pocket and dialled your housemate's number, praying for a lifeline. The ringing felt like an eternity, but it was met with frustrating silence.

Shit, she's not picking up.

You cursed under your breath, clutching your phone tighter, and decided to try other coworkers you knew living around the area. The calls all ended up going to voicemail or, in the best-case scenario, were met with an endless ring.

It was a weeknight, and everyone must be sound asleep.

Your trembling hands struggled to maintain a steady grip on your phone as you felt the stranger drawing closer from behind. The footsteps echoed ominously in the deserted night.

Desperation took over, and you tried dialling another number, your best friend's, hoping he might miraculously be awake. The harsh reality was that everyone seemed to be lost in deep slumber, oblivious to your perilous situation.

Fear gripped your heart as you finally accepted your fate. The stranger's presence loomed closer, sending a shiver down your spine.

It was almost as if god finally heard your prayers.

As you turned a corner, you stumbled upon a man who appeared to be stepping out of his apartment to throw out the trash. He was now on his way back, his back turned to you as he approached the entrance. Your eyes widened in alarm at the sight of this opportunity, and you knew you had to seize it.

With your heart lurching in your chest, you sprinted towards the man, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The sound of footsteps behind you grew louder, and you knew the stranger was chasing you.

You reached the man, your trembling hand gripping his arm, and he snapped to look at you in surprise, "Babe! I called you like a million times, why didn't you answer any of my calls?" You cried out, desperately hoping he'd play along.

Confusion crossed his face.

Much to your chagrin, he began to protest that he didn't know you. But it only took a moment for his gaze to shift from your panicked expression to the strange man skidding to a stop just a few feet behind you.

Seeing the menace in your pursuer's eyes, you whispered shakily, "P-please... please help me. He's been following me for a while now."

The urgency in your voice and the fear in your eyes conveyed the gravity of the situation, and the man's protective instincts kicked in. Without hesitation, he nodded and took a step closer to you.

He smiled reassuringly at you, giving your arm a supportive squeeze, "I'm Yuta. Don't worry, I won't let anything happen to you." He whispered into your ear, his words providing a small semblance of comfort. You nodded appreciatively, grateful for his intervention.

Yuta immediately stepped into the role you assigned him, "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I must've left my phone on mute again." He said, loud enough for the stranger to hear as he pushed you protectively behind him.

Turning to the stranger, he raised a questioning brow and confronted him with a calm but assertive tone, "How may I help you, sir?" Yuta's stance conveyed his readiness to protect you.

You expected the stranger to take the hint, to leave you alone now that your supposed "boyfriend" was around.

But what happened next was unexpected.

The creep didn't appear to be intimidated; instead, he smirked in disbelief, "Don't kid yourself," He sneered, "I know she's not your girlfriend. Just mind your business, step aside, and no one has to get hurt."

Your heart raced in your chest as you gasped, fear grasping at your every nerve, and you clutched the back of Yuta's shirt.

Your breaths were becoming increasingly erratic as the stranger refused to buy into the charade, and dread was taking hold of your every thought. You feared not only for your own safety but also for poor Yuta's. The grip of your fingers on the back of his shirt was almost painful as you held on desperately.

Feeling your distress, Yuta reached behind him to hold your hand, his touch a source of comfort amidst the chaos. He squeezed your hand reassuringly, silently urging you to stay as calm as possible.

Yuta narrowed his brows dangerously in response to the stranger's claim, "Huh, what an odd thing to say," He retorted with a firm tone, "And how, pray tell, do you know she's not my girlfriend?" Yuta's voice carried a subtle edge of menace, and he was prepared to stand his ground.

The stranger, undeterred, took a step closer.

"I suggest you be careful with your every action because we have surveillance cameras installed all over this neighbourhood." Yuta's words were meant to intimidate, but they also served as a warning.

The creep couldn't help tensing up at the threat.

Unbeknownst to you and your stalker, Yuta wasn't alone in this situation. He knew he needed backup and immediately sent a quick text to Mark, his housemate who was a police officer, asking for help using their secret emergency code. As he did so, he continued to hold his ground, doing his best to stall for time, hoping that help would arrive before things escalated any further.

The tension in the air thickened as Yuta and the stranger exchanged veiled threats, each trying to assert their dominance in the standoff. The atmosphere crackled with danger, and it seemed like things could take a nasty turn at any moment.

But then, relief washed over you as Mark, Yuta's housemate, appeared from the apartment gate with wide eyes. Yuta immediately wrapped an arm around your shoulder, his expression shifting from assertive to reassuring.

"Hey Mark," Yuta greeted him calmly, "This guy's been following my girlfriend around the neighbourhood. You're a cop; think you can do something about that?"

Mark understood the situation instantly.

He stepped forward, pulling out his police badge and addressing the stranger with a stern tone, "Sir, is that true?"

Sensing the gravity of the situation and realising that he was now dealing with a police officer, the stranger knew it was in his best interest to give up the charade. He decided to play dumb, attempting to salvage whatever dignity remained.

"Oh, I apologise," He stammered, feigning innocence, "It's just a misunderstanding. I thought she was someone I knew. Now that we have that cleared up, I'll be taking my leave then."

With that, the stranger briskly retreated, vanishing from the scene before you could fully process what just happened. The relief was palpable as the danger lifted, and you were left with the protection of Yuta and the support of Mark, who had come to your rescue.

The moment the stranger was out of sight, the adrenaline that kept you going suddenly drained from your body, leaving your legs weak and unsteady. You felt like your knees were about to give way, and you would have fallen to the ground if it hadn't been for Yuta holding onto you.

"Are you alright, miss?" Mark asked, his concern evident.

You didn't want to do this, but you couldn't help it. You felt tears welling up in your eyes as you broke down in front of your saviours, "Oh my god," You sobbed, your voice trembling, "Th-thank you so much for helping me. Lord knows what he wanted with me."

Yuta held you close, providing a comforting embrace as you tried to collect yourself. Mark stepped in with practical advice, his voice gentle and reassuring, "It's okay," He said, "But I strongly recommend you make a police report about this. It's essential to prevent such incidents from happening to someone else in the future."

You nodded through your tears, thankful for their support.

Relieved by the support and protection Yuta and Mark offered, you agreed to let them walk you home. The companionship and their unwavering presence were comforting as you made your way back.

Along the walk, you introduced yourself and shared the details of what transpired, explaining how the stranger had been tailing you for quite some time before you noticed Yuta when he was throwing out the trash.

Yuta listened attentively, guilt gnawing at him for initially considering turning away from you before realising the danger you were in. He couldn't bear to imagine what might have happened if he had left you to fend for yourself. He vowed silently to always be there for you in times of need.

Mark, on the other hand, made a mental note to keep an eye out for the stranger around the neighbourhood from now on. The incident raised concerns, and he understood the importance of ensuring the safety of everyone in the community.

Upon arriving at your doorstep, Yuta exchanged a silent look with Mark, wordlessly asking his friend for some privacy. Mark nodded knowingly and bid you both farewell before making his way outside, leaving you alone with Yuta.

Looking up at him more closely now, you finally realised how good-looking Yuta was, and before you knew it, your heart began racing for an entirely different reason. He stood before you, nervously biting his lower lip, and you wondered what he wanted to talk to you about.

Minutes felt like hours as you waited for him to speak.

Finally, his cheeks flushed with a slight blush, and he cleared his throat, his voice trembling, "I-it was really nice to meet you, and, umm... now that you know where I live, you can always come to me for help. Oh— uhh... here's my number, you know, just in case..."

You chuckled at his shyness and nodded, taking the name card he held out. Your fingers brushed against his briefly, sending a spark of electricity through you, "Thank you, Yuta," You replied with a smile, "I really appreciate what you did for me tonight. And, it was nice to meet you too."

The tension that filled the air throughout the night seemed to dissipate, leaving a sense of connection and gratitude between you. You knew that you would remember this night not only for the terrifying ordeal but also for the newfound friend who had come to your rescue.

"And that, son, is how I met your mother."

If you thought your son's curiosity would end there, you were wrong. He proceeded with his next question, "Okay, so what happened next? How did you two fall in love?"

You shook your head in amusement as you noticed the excitement building in your husband, ready to delve deeper into the early stages of your love story, "Are you sure you want to find out, Yuki? Once you hear this, no other love story will ever compare to ours."

A laugh bubbled out of your lips, and you playfully smacked Yuta on the chest, "Oh honey, don't listen to your papa. He's being ridiculous," Your husband gasped dramatically, feigning disbelief as he held your hand against his chest, "How dare you? Are you saying our love story isn't the greatest in the world?"

"It's not the greatest love story in the world," You began, snickering at Yuta's pout, "But it is the greatest love story in my heart." Your husband cooed at your words, showering your face with kisses.

Yuki crossed his arms over his chest like the sassy little eight-year-old he is, "Umm, papa? So, are you telling me the story or not?" Yuta pulled away slightly from you, containing his laughter at his son's exasperated expression.

Your husband's penchant for public displays of affection wasn't new, but Yuki still felt a bit embarrassed whenever he witnessed his parents being lovey-dovey around him, "Okay, okay, sheesh. I know you're dying to hear about it, so here we go..."

The following day after the incident, your housemate, Giselle, nearly had a heart attack when she discovered a slew of missed calls from you. Relieved to see you safely asleep in your bed, she couldn't resist checking in on you. And as you recounted the previous night's ordeal, her emotions fluctuated from shock to sly amusement.

After hearing about Yuta and seeing the name card you received, her eyes practically sparkled with excitement, "Ooh, Nakamoto Yuta, huh? Sounds like your next boyfriend to me." She said with a grin.

You chuckled as you playfully threw a pillow at her face, "I swear, you say that about every new guy I meet."

She laughed and shrugged, "Well, maybe this one will be different."

As you contemplated the events of the previous night and the unexpected connection with Yuta, you couldn't help but wonder if Giselle might be onto something.

Your best friend, Jaehyun, finally returned your call after seeing the missed call from the previous night. You recounted the entire incident to him, much like you had with Giselle. Unlike your housemate, his concern was predominantly focused on your well-being rather than the newfound acquaintance, Yuta.

Jaehyun didn't waste any time.

He decided to accompany you to the police station that afternoon during his lunch break from work.

Your best friend blamed himself for not being there for you when you needed him the most, even though it was completely understandable. He was determined to make sure everything was handled properly and that you received the support you needed.

You hadn't expected to run into Yuta again so soon, but it was that very night when you crossed paths while walking back home from the convenience store with your housemate. Ignoring her teasing smirks, you introduced the two to each other, "Oh hi, Yuta! This is my housemate, Giselle. And Giselle, this is Yuta, the kind soul who saved me last night."

Giselle quickly expressed her gratitude, "Gosh, it's so nice to meet you. I can't thank you enough for coming to her rescue!"

Yuta was humble in his response, "Please, don't mention it! It was simply the right thing to do."

His modesty made you feel like perhaps he really was just being a genuinely decent person, and there was nothing more to his kindness. You knew Giselle had a tendency to get carried away with her imagination, always getting you hyped up with false hope.

You exchanged a tight smile with Yuta as you bid your goodbyes. This time, when he offered to walk you home, you politely declined, feeling a sense of independence and confidence that you could handle the walk with your housemate by your side.

It was about a week later that you felt a wave of relief when the police update came in, the stranger who had been following you that fateful night had been arrested for further questioning. It turned out he made multiple attempts to approach other girls in the neighbourhood as well. You hoped this marked the end of that distressing chapter, thinking you might not have a reason to see Yuta again.

Except you were sorely mistaken.

Nakamoto Yuta started showing up almost everywhere.

You saw him at the convenience store, passed him on your way to work and back home, encountered him at the nearby Chinese restaurant, and even spotted him at the library. The first few times felt like mere coincidences, but you gradually began to suspect that he was intentionally crossing paths with you.

One evening, when you decided to go for a jog at the recreational park, you discovered it wasn't just a coincidence.

There he was, running in your direction, his eyes lighting up with recognition as he approached you. It was then that you realised Yuta's appearances in your life weren't accidental; he was actively seeking out opportunities to be around you.

At the recreational park during your jog, you decided to be brave and address the elephant in the room, "Yuta," You began, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and apprehension, "I've noticed we've been running into each other a lot lately. Is there a reason for that?"

His cheeks turned a faint shade of pink, and he looked down shyly before meeting your gaze.

"Well, the truth is," He began, "I've been trying to find ways to talk to you." He paused for a moment, searching for the right words, and then he finally mustered the courage to continue, "I've... I've been attracted to you, and I wanted to get to know you better."

Your eyes widened in disbelief as you tried to process this revelation. Yuta, the kind and handsome Nakamoto Yuta, was interested in you? It felt like a dream come true, and your heart fluttered at the thought. You didn't know what to say, but your smile spoke volumes about your feelings, as you felt your own attraction to him growing with each passing moment.

Yuta's nerves seemed to get the best of him as he mistook your initial silence for rejection. In a quick, slightly frantic ramble, he stumbled over his words, saying, "I mean, it's okay if you don't feel the same way, or if you already have a boyfriend. I completely understand."

But you didn't let him finish his self-doubting monologue. You grabbed his trembling hands with a warm smile, putting his anxieties to rest, "Yuta," You said, "I don't have a boyfriend, and I feel the same way. I'm just as attracted to you."

His eyes widened at your words, and a look of pure surprise washed over his face. Your giggles escaped uncontrollably as you found him utterly adorable when flustered. You felt him tighten his hold on your hand, and he took a step closer to you, closing the gap between you two, a mix of excitement and relief in his eyes.

"Well, if that's the case, will you go out on a date with me?" He seized the perfect opportunity to ask you out, and you didn't hesitate for a moment before agreeing, "I thought you'd never ask." The prospect of spending more time with him filled you with excitement and anticipation.

Later that night, you would meet Yuta for dinner.

Giselle couldn't resist teasing you endlessly as she helped you pick out the perfect outfit, offering fashion advice and supportive comments that made you blush and laugh.

Her closet was a whirlwind of options as she held up dresses, skirts, and tops, "How about this one? It'll look amazing on you!"

You chuckled, sorting through the outfits, "Gigi, it's just dinner. I don't need to overdress."

She winked mischievously, "It's not overdressing if it makes you feel confident!"

Meanwhile, Jaehyun, who came over to check on you, couldn't help expressing his concern, "You know, I trust your judgment, but please be careful, okay? I don't want anything to happen to you."

You sighed, understanding his protective nature, "Jae, I promise, Yuta is a great guy. He wouldn't do anything to hurt me. Besides, are you forgetting the fact that he was the one who saved me that night?"

The reassuring words didn't fully alleviate his worry, but he nodded, accepting your choice, "How can I possibly forget when you keep mentioning it every five minutes? Just promise me to keep your phone on, and let me know if you need anything."

With your housemate's guidance and your best friend's cautionary reminders, you headed out for your date with Yuta, heart fluttering with excitement.

The date with him turned out to be more than perfect. Yuta's caring and attentive gestures made your heart melt throughout the night.

As you dined at a cosy restaurant, he pulled your chair out for you, ensuring you were comfortable. He listened intently as you spoke, asking questions and showing genuine interest in your thoughts and feelings. When you shivered slightly, he casually draped his jacket over your shoulders, ensuring you stayed warm.

After dinner, you took a leisurely stroll through the city park. Yuta held your hand as you walked, fingers interlaced. He pointed out constellations in the night sky and shared anecdotes about his life. His warmth and presence made the conversation flow effortlessly, and it felt as if you had known each other for much longer.

The date ended with him walking you to your doorstep. Before saying goodnight, he leaned in to press a gentle, respectful kiss on your cheek. It was a sweet, soft gesture that left you with a smile on your face as you entered your home.

His kindness, consideration, and charming nature truly made it an unforgettable evening, setting the tone for many more wonderful moments together.

The weeks and months passed in a whirlwind of dates and shared experiences. You got to know each other so well that it became clear you were both ready for a deeper commitment. Yuta had always been serious about the relationship, making it known that he was not interested in anything casual. He reassured you time and time again that he would never do anything to hurt you.

He's been waiting for the perfect moment to finally ask you to officially be his girlfriend.

The moment Yuta had been waiting for eventually arrived, and it was like a scene from a K-drama; unexpected and dramatic. You were walking side by side down the bustling streets of Hongdae one night after watching a movie together.

The city's neon lights created a surreal backdrop. The vibrant energy of Seoul's nightlife buzzed around you, and you were enjoying the company of the person you've grown to care deeply for.

Suddenly, amidst the excitement, someone's touch became too intimate. Panic washed over you as you felt a stranger's hand on your waist, and it moved lower, sending a jolt of alarm through your body. Your eyes widened as you tried to figure out what was happening in this crowded, chaotic scene.

Yuta was quick to pick up on your distress.

His gaze followed your wide-eyed stare, and his expression morphed from curiosity to fierce determination when he saw the inappropriate situation unfolding.

With a surge of protective rage, he moved swiftly, his hand reaching for yours as he pulled you away from the unwelcome intruder. In search of comfort, you pressed closer to him. His face was a mask of fury as he confronted the person who dared to harm you, "Excuse me, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

The stranger's face paled as he realised the gravity of his actions, "I... I didn't mean to..."

Yuta's voice was firm, cutting through the chaos of the street, "It doesn't matter what you meant. You crossed a line you shouldn't have, and that's not acceptable."

The crowd that gathered began to murmur, and the stranger, feeling the weight of the public gaze, backed away, muttering apologies and excuses.

Yuta, standing his ground, continued, "Remember this lesson, and never let it happen again. We all deserve to be treated with respect."

As the stranger retreated into the crowd, Yuta's focus returned to you, making sure you were okay. The fierce protector had shown his dedication to your safety in no uncertain terms.

In that tense and unexpected moment, his eyes met yours, and he seized the opportunity to ask the question that had been lingering between you for so long.

"This is it," He began, "I can't go on like this any longer. Will you let me be the one to always protect you from now on?" He paused, his gaze locked onto yours, a mix of hope and anticipation in his eyes, "Will you... be my girlfriend?"

The crowd around you erupted into cheers and applause, chanting for you to say yes to Yuta. Their enthusiasm was infectious, and you couldn't help smiling at their exuberance.

With a shy yet delighted grin, you nodded, "Of course, I'll be your girlfriend, silly. I've waited too long for you to ask."

His face lit up, his joy evident, and he wasted no time in pulling you into a warm and loving embrace. The crowd's cheers only grew louder as they congratulated the two of you, celebrating the official beginning of your journey together as a couple.

As he walked you home later that night, the atmosphere was charged with emotion. With a mix of excitement and anticipation, he leaned in to kiss you on the lips for the first time. The world around you seemed to fade away as your lips met, and for a moment, it was just the two of you in perfect harmony.

Before the kiss could deepen and become more passionate, the romantic moment was abruptly interrupted by your housemate, who swung your front door open and shouted, "Finally!"

Her sudden entrance startled both of you, and you laughed as you pulled away from the kiss.

Giselle's enthusiastic interruption added a dose of humour to the scene, and Yuta joined in the laughter, your hearts brimming with happiness and the promise of a wonderful future together.

Your son's face was the epitome of adorable scepticism as he tilted his head, looking at his father's dramatic storytelling, "Papa, are you sure that isn't a scene from a drama?" Yuta scoffed playfully, "Of course not! I'm telling you the truth!"

Yuki, with his round eyes, turned to you, seeking confirmation, "Is it really true that's how you and papa fell in love, mama?"

You softened and leaned down to kiss his head, reassuring him, "It's true, honey."

To your surprise, your son's expression turned more serious, "That would mean it's true you've almost gotten hurt twice if papa hadn't been there to save you."

You nodded, touched by your son's concern, and Yuki continued, "Don't worry, mama. I'm here now; I'll protect you too."

Your heart melted at his words, and Yuta cooed with pride, coming over to shower your son's face with playful kisses. Yuki shrieked in ticklish delight, and you stared at the two of them with a fond smile.

You may have nearly gotten hurt in order to meet Yuta, but you wouldn't change your fate for anything in the world. You were incredibly happy with your little family, and your heart was full of love and gratitude for the way things have turned out.

In the midst of this warm family moment, Yuki's curious nature was in full swing. With an innocent yet cheeky smile, he suddenly asked, "So, how did you two have me then?"

Your face turned a shade of red that rivalled a tomato, and you cleared your throat nervously. Beside you, Yuta stammered, his words coming out in a rush, "Whoa, whoa, that's enough questions for today, young man!"

Yuki's eyes sparkled with amusement as he sensed he hit a nerve. Despite the initial flustered reactions, you burst out laughing, unable to contain your mirth.

It seemed like the story of your love, your family, and your son's inquisitiveness would continue to be a delightful adventure.

I've only been writing for ATEEZ so far since they're my current ult, but NCT and I go way back HAHA. I've been the biggest simp for Yuta, y'all don't wanna know about it, I swear.

Anyway, this is me trying out writing for other groups. I have another story featuring I.N from Stray Kids coming up soon as well. My fellow STAYs can look forward to that one.

As always, I'd love to hear all your thoughts, reviews, and feedback, so feel free to leave as many replies as you want! Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed! <3

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

#nct #nct 127 #nct fanfic #nct fanfiction #nakamoto yuta #nct yuta #non idol au #yuta x reader #yuta x you #nct fic #yuta oneshot #nct oneshot

[billybob598]

Everything is Going to Be Okay (Sydney Lohmann x Reader)

Well hello there! Here is the long awaited (not really) part 2 to How Many People. On a completely unrelated note, school is kicking my ass. But whatever. Also, I just want to note that I am NOT a medical professional. I have no idea if what happens in this fic is actually possible or medically correct. Either way, any feedback good or bad is welcomed! Enjoy!

Part 1 here

Word Count: 5K (can we all just pause and acknowledge this? like guys come on now)

1 Year Ago

“She’s stable, for now. We’re going to be monitoring her carefully for the next few days. Again, we’re confident she’ll recover as much as she can.” You can hear a voice coming from above you, but your mind seems hazy, almost like a fog clouding your thoughts. Something wet lands on your exposed wrist, it feels like water but who would pour water on your arm? 

“Okay, thank you, doctor,” a German accent breaks your line of thinking. Wait, you know that voice, Sydney? What was she doing here? What were you doing here? The last thing you remember you were sitting in the middle of the track, about to switch the car off and get out. Now that you think about it, it did sound as if something was getting closer to you. Oh God, had you been hit by another car? Well, that’s not good. A door closed shut, presumably the doctor, leaving just you and Sydney alone. She started to cry, like full-on sobbing. How badly you wanted to reach out and hold her hand, but you couldn’t. Your body was betraying you. Luckily, Sydney slipped her hand into yours and squeezed tightly. “You scared me for a sec, Y/N/N. Wake up, please. Then, everything will be okay, liebe.” Her voice was cracking as she begged you to open your eyes. You couldn’t. You couldn’t reach up and tuck the hair behind her ear, you couldn’t open your mouth and tell her everything was going to be okay. You were useless. Well, you could just try and squeeze her hand. What’s the harm in trying? So, you focused completely on getting your fingers to tighten around hers. Sydney’s head shoots up. The sadness she was previously feeling almost disappeared altogether. “Y/N? Can you hear me?” She gets a squeeze in response, “Oh my God, oh my God.” She clings onto your hand as if it were a lifeline, “I’m going to go get the doctor, okay?” Another squeeze.

9 Months Ago

You had fully woken up four or five hours ago. For a couple of weeks you were just squeezing your girlfriend's hand, today was the day you were finally able to open your eyes. When you woke, Sydney immediately pulled you into a hug, being mindful of your injuries. The nurses did a few checks on you such as checking if you remembered what happened, who you were, and who Sydney was. They were happy to confirm you didn’t suffer any memory loss despite your head trauma. They then left you alone to rest for a couple of hours. Sydney telling you everything that has occurred over the last month. It shook you, how much you had missed and how long you’d been unconscious for. Around six o’clock the doctor came in. He watched the numbers on the machines you were hooked up to, occasionally writing something down on his clipboard. When he was satisfied, he walked to the foot of your bed and carefully removed the bed sheets covering your legs.

“Ms. Y/L/N, I’m not sure if anyone has told you yet, but during your accident, you suffered damage to your spinal cord. I just want to make sure that everything is okay down here,” he explains. He takes out a pen from his pocket and gently pushes it into your foot, “Can you feel this?” You shake your head no. He hums quietly then, he moves it onto your shin, “This?” Nothing. You unknowingly tense, this wasn’t good. He continues to move it further and further up your legs until he gets to just above your hip. Poking it softly he raises his eyebrows to you in question. Finally, you can feel the tip of the pen dig into your skin, 

“Yeah, yeah, I can feel that.” He nods curtly.

“Could you try wiggling your toes for me?” Focusing your entire body on getting just one of your toes to move, you groan when you can’t. The doctor mumbles something to himself. He then asks Sydney if he could talk to her outside. Sydney gets up, squeezing your shoulder as she walks past you. You watch them carefully, trying to see if you can lip-read. Spoiler alert: you can’t. As they walk back into the room, Sydney has a sombre look on her face. When she sees you staring she tries to force a smile, but you already knew what was coming. 

“So, Y/N-”

“I’m paralyzed, right?” Your question catches both of them off guard. They share a look before Sydney turns to you with a sad look in her eyes. That’s all the confirmation you need. The tears start to flow thick and fast. In an instant Sydney is beside you, comforting you in whatever way she can. She whispers sweet nothings into your ear, trying her best to calm you and reassure you.

“I know it seems like the end of the world, meine liebe. But, you’ll come back better than ever. Everything will be okay,” she whispers sweetly as the sobs coming out of your mouth begin to slow.

7 Months Ago

“Seriously, Y/N?” Sydney’s voice sounds incredulous. She harshly spins your wheelchair around, taking you by surprise. When you meet her eyes you're taken aback to see such fury and frustration in them. 

“What? What I’d do?” You ask, not liking the way Sydney looks like she could tear you apart limb by limb.

She scoffs, “Oh please, you know what you did.” It’s when she says those words that you realize what she’s talking about. A frown forms on your face, preparing to defend yourself, but she cuts you off, “Like, seriously, Y/N? What the fuck? You don’t get to say or decide those things.” Her words set you off.

“Oh, I don’t get to make those decisions? Of course, I do! You know who doesn’t get to decide those things? Someone who has no fucking clue what it’s like!” Your voice rises word by word. 

Sydney, however, refuses to give up, “Maybe I don’t get to make the decisions, but I get a say in it. They affect me as well. Not everything in this world revolves around you!” At this point, tears are starting to form in her eyes, your fists are clenched, and the words being said are much harsher than originally intended.

“Whatever. I’m a grown fucking adult and I’ll do what I want.” Any hope either of you had for a civil, calm conversation had been thrown out of the window a while ago. The German’s hands fly to her hair, tugging at it. 

“Really? Cause right now you’re acting like a child. God, you’re so frustrating! I’ve been doing everything I possibly can for you these last three or four months. I understand that you’re frustrated and that you’re heartbroken, but that doesn’t mean you get to shut me out, okay? I’ve tried to show that I’m here if you need someone to talk to, but what do you do? You bottle it up and then it makes you make stupid decisions like telling your therapist to piss off when she asks about Formula 1 and saying that you don’t ever want to see her again!” She releases a deep breath after her mini-ramble. All of her worries and frustrations from the past few months let out. You stare at her in shock and regret. 

With a look of concession you speak quietly, “You’re right, Syd. I shouldn’t have done that, I’ll call her and apologize. I’m sorry, I am, babe.” Blinking, Sydney couldn’t believe it, you had apologized. 

“And?” She prompts.

“And I promise I’ll try to talk to you more about those things,” a smile appears across your girlfriend's face. 

“See? Wasn’t that hard was it?” You roll your eyes, a playful grin etching itself on your face, “Everything will be okay, right?”

“Yeah, everything will be okay.”

6 Months Ago

“Fuck!” Your swear startles Sydney out of an email she was writing.

“Everything okay, schatz?” She asks, peering out of the office. You had moved to Germany so she could help you with your recovery. Your trainer and physiotherapist had both moved as well. That way everyone you needed to help you was right there. Sydney hated to leave you alone, especially in your current state. So, whenever she had to leave for away games or international duty she would get her mom and dad to come over and watch you. No matter how many times you insisted you were fine alone, they stayed however long they needed to and helped you do everything. Dinner? They made it. Shower? Momma Lohmann is helping you. It embarrassed you to no end. To have your girlfriend's parents look after you as if you were a toddler. It was the topic of many arguments with her, she just never understood why you were so stubborn to the offer of help. To be honest, you didn’t know either. There was just something degrading about it. You were once a role model, a trailblazer in motorsport, a standard for those to come. Now, you couldn’t even make it up one flight of stairs by yourself. 

“I spilled my tea. Don’t worry I’ll clean it up,” you call back from the living room.

“No, don’t. It’s okay, you’ve got physio soon. I’ll clean it up when I get back,” your girlfriend walks into the room. You huff slightly and mumble a quiet “okay.”

 Arriving at your physio, Sydney waves you goodbye as one of the desk ladies wheels you through the doors and into the main lobby. Your physiotherapist, Emma, smiles at you and takes over pushing your wheelchair towards the back.

“So, how are you feeling today?” She asks happily.

“Same as two days ago,”

“Woah there grumpy pants. It was just a question,” she jokes. Sighing heavily, you give her a more honest answer,

“Em, come on. It’s been what three months? I’m still nowhere near being able to walk again,” Now it’s her turn to sigh,

“Don’t say that. You are making progress. You may not see it, but I can. And I think you’re closer to walking again than you think.” She ignores your scoff and parks you near a massage bed. After a few warm-up exercises, (What you were warming up you had no idea. You couldn’t feel shit.) you maneuver onto the treadmill. However, on this treadmill, there was a harness with two braces that wrapped around your legs. This forces them to move. Emma helps you put the harness on, she turns the treadmill on, starting at an extremely slow speed. Slowly, she increases the speed little by little. When she feels you’ve had enough she stops it and sits you back in your wheelchair. The two of you continue to plow through exercises, everything seems to be going decent until you try to walk by yourself. You had been left unsupervised for no more than two minutes, but your impatient self decided to try and go get your wheelchair that was situated only six feet away from you. You willed your right leg to move forward and take a step, leaning forward slightly, instead, you toppled over face first having to break your fall with your arms. Emma and others had rushed over when they heard you thump against the floor. She, with the assistance of others, helped you into the wheelchair, the chain of curse words that left your mouth conveying just how pissed you were. What was shaping up to be a rare positive session ended instead with you being inconsolably furious. You weren’t mad at anyone, no, you were mad with yourself. In your mind, you were pathetic. How could you not even take one stupid step? You continued to mentally bash yourself, not realizing that Sydney and Emma had sat you in the car. Now, they stood behind the vehicle, Emma filling your girlfriend in on everything. After bidding your friend and physiotherapist goodbye, Sydney got into the car and started the drive home. When she took a peek at you she could tell how in your head you were. Doing the only thing she could think of, she reached across the centre console and intertwined her hand with yours. Your head snapped in her direction, you were confused but you didn’t move your hand away. Stopping at a red light, Sydney turned her head towards you. She spoke quietly,

“I know you’re frustrated, liebe. I would be too. But you have to try and be patient with yourself. It’s a long road and I’m almost positive that one day you’ll reap the rewards.” You smiled at her words, a genuine smile, something Syndey hadn’t seen in a long time. You brought your interlocked hands towards your mouth and planted a kiss on her hand. “Everything will be okay, okay?”

 5 Months Ago

“Come on Y/N! You got this!” Emma’s words spur you on. In the past month, you had made significant progress and today was the day you were going to try taking a step. So here you were, on your fourth attempt and while you were beginning to lose confidence, Emma was determined not to let you give up. Taking a deep breath, you will your leg forward. To your and Emma’s amazement, you take a step. 

“Holy shit I did it!” You exclaim happily.

“You did it!” Emma screams, bringing you into a tight hug. Before Sydney comes to pick you up you make Emma promise not to tell your girlfriend about your progress, stating that you wanted to surprise her when you can walk more. 

Two weeks later, you texted Sydney asking her to come inside because Emma wanted to show her something. So, as the two of them talk about God knows what, you slowly but surely make your way over to her. Emma looks excitedly over your girlfriend's shoulder, continuing to talk to keep her distracted. When you finally get close enough, you reach out and lay your hand on her shoulder. Sydney turns around, her jaw drops when she sees you standing there, your wheelchair far behind you. 

“Di-Did you…?” She stutters, extending her hand to hold you. You nod with a stupid grin on your face. 

“I did,” you say tears appearing in your eyes. Sydney pulls you into a hug, crying into your neck. 

“I’m so, so proud of you, Y/N,” she mutters, still against your neck. 

“Thank you, love. And thank you for staying with me,” you say before pulling her into a soft kiss. After a few seconds, you pull away. 

“Everything is going to be okay, liebe,” she says into your ear.

3 Months Ago

“You nervous?” You can practically hear the grin on Alex’s face as he speaks up from behind you. His hand lands on your shoulder, bringing a sense of comfort to you. Alex had always been one of your best friends, a friendship that only got stronger when you became teammates. Both of you had done your best to keep in touch throughout your recovery, something that proved difficult. Mostly due to you not wanting anything to do with F1. Some might see it as a terrible coping system, but you saw it as a well-deserved break to mentally reset. Now, after months and months of rehab and hard work, you were finally back where you belonged, in an F1 garage. Williams’ was giving you a test day around Silverstone. On one hand, you were ecstatic to be back, on the other, you and Syndey were scared as hell. While the conditions were perfect, the sun predicted all day with no clouds, and there were no other cars on track, It’s hard to get past those types of things, especially when they hurt you and everyone close to you. One of the main things you were concerned about was Syndey. You weren’t sure if you could, God forbid anything similar happened to you, put her through that again. She was your rock and you had no idea if she could take something as emotionally and physically taxing as that ever again.

“Nah, mate. I’m not nervous at all,” you say sarcastically before moving away from him.

As you walk around the garage you take a good long look at your car. God, your car. Something you hadn’t been able to say in forever. Someone walks up from behind you and snakes their arms around your waist. You lean back into your girlfriend's arms as she leans forward slightly and talks into your ear,

“You’re gonna do great, I just know it.” Turning around so you’re facing her, the bright smile that Syndey and the world love so much tugs at your lips. 

“Yeah I know, I’m more worried about you,” you joke lightly. She feigns offence at your words.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m always as cool as a cucumber when you’re racing.” A laugh escapes from you and you kiss the underside of her jaw sweetly. 

“Y/L/N! We’re ready, wanna get in?” An engineer shouts at you, breaking the two of you out of your trance. You nod, the soft look you had instantly replaced with one of pure determination. Pulling away from your girlfriend, you look at her,

“Everything will be okay, Syd.” She raises her eyebrows but doesn’t say anything. Instead, she presses one last kiss on your forehead and moves to put some headphones on, leaving you alone. Taking a deep breath, you begin to put your earplugs in, then you tuck your hair in as you put your balaclava on. Finally, you slip the custom-designed crash helmet over your head and connect the HANS device to your neck. Approaching your car, a few of the mechanics give you fist bumps and words of encouragement. There are a few cameras located inside and outside of the garage, one of them being the social media manager. You give a thumbs up and wink at her, something that you’re sure will end up all over TikTok and Instagram later, but whatever. You step over the halo, your eyes squint due to the big smile under your helmet. After taking a few breaths in and out, you slide down into the cockpit. Someone helps you with the seatbelts and headrest, they give you a quick thumbs up before retracting their hand from the cockpit. Your engineer gives you the go-ahead to start the engine, and when you switch it on the entire car rumbles to life. It’s a surreal feeling, the way your entire world vibrates with its power. The front jackman signals for you to pull out of the garage. When you press the throttle, everything goes silent. As you pull out of the pit lane and head onto the actual track, the rest of the world falls away, It’s just you and your car. Nothing else in the world matters right now. For the first time in months, you’re doing what you do best, driving at crazy speeds like a madman. When you come across the start/finish line to complete your first lap in an F1 car in over nine months the entire garage breaks out in applause. Sydney can feel the tears flowing down her cheeks, but unlike the last time you were in an F1 car, they were happy tears. The world and your lives were somewhat going back to normal. Finally.

2 Weeks Ago

“Here we are for the 2024 Hungarian Grand Prix! And Martin, the biggest story of the week, Y/N Y/L/N is making her long-awaited return to Formula 1 after her horrific accident last year in Spa,” Crofty’s cheery voice crackles through the TV speakers in your driver room. 

“That’s right, Crofty. She has had to endure one of the most challenging journeys we’ve ever seen. And I think everyone inside of the F1 community is rooting for her this weekend. So far, everything has been smooth sailing for her. She put in a mighty performance in qualifying, only three spots back from her teammate, Alex Albon, who qualified a magnificent P2. And that Williams has looked quite speedy around this track and I’m sure both drivers are hoping to make the podium, at least.” 

“How are you feeling?” Your girlfriend's sweet voice brings you back to reality. 

“Good, yeah great, good,” you say very unconvincingly. She just laughs at you, but before she can say anything in response, a series of loud splats hitting the window makes you both look at it. To both your dismay and worry, the heavens decide to open up there and then. “Shit,” you mutter under your breath. 

“Hey, hey. Don’t worry about that. You’ve been doing so well, a little rain isn’t going to change that,” Sydney takes a seat beside you and cradles your face in her hands. 

“I can’t do it, Syd. I can’t,” You feel yourself start to hyperventilate. Your mind races, thinking about all the bad outcomes, thinking about what happened last time.

“Look at me, liebe. You can do it and you will. I know you, nothing ever stops you and this definitely won’t. You’ve worked so frickin’ hard for this. I’ve watched it, I’ve watched how you never gave up. This is your time. Show them just how amazing you are, schatz. Show them.” Her pep talk has its desired effect, it eases your worries and helps you prepare for the race. 

Walking around the grid, you take it all in. A year of pain and hard work finally paid off. Multiple people come up to you before the race and wish you luck, something you appreciate but don’t care for. As you sit inside the car with your helmet on, everything seems quiet. All weekend everyone wanted to talk to you and they always asked the same questions. At first, you didn’t mind it, just happy to be back. But, after a bit, it got annoying having someone try to follow you every minute. Inside your car, however, it was just you, you couldn’t hear anyone else, everyone just left you alone. 

“Thirty seconds until the green light,” your engineer, Gaetan, spoke through your earpiece. You run through your final preparations before the formation lap was started. When the green light is given, you weave around the track attempting to warm up your tyres while Gaetan confirms the race strategy. Parking in your grid spot, you ready yourself with the clutch. 

“It’s five red lights and away we go for the Hungarian Grand Prix!”

At the end of lap 1, you’re up to P4 after starting fifth. Alex had dropped down to P3, putting you right behind him. A few more laps pass by and you begin to get frustrated behind your teammate,

“Guys, come on. I’m faster than him.” Sydney and Lily watch anxiously from the garage.

“We’ll give it one more lap, Y/N. If he doesn’t improve we will switch the cars,” Gaetan responds. When Alex doesn’t improve the next lap, he lets you by and sets you free. Now, you had clean air and lots of time to make up. Over the next twenty laps, you gradually close the gap between you and the top two, Carlos Sainz and Max Verstappen. When the three of you come in for your pit stops, you were just under two seconds back from them. Alex had pitted a few laps before, trying to pull off the undercut on you guys.

“And what’s this? Oh no, Martin, Sainz has had a slow stop! Oh goodness, the tyres weren’t ready! This might just play into Y/N Y/L/N and Williams’ hands.” After a smooth stop from your guys, you rejoin the track ahead of Sainz and into P2. 

“So we’re P2 and Alex is P3,” your engineer tells you.

“Really? Oh, wow. Good job guys,” your surprised tone makes a few people chuckle. The race progresses and try as you might, you just can’t get close enough to get by Verstappen. By the time the second pit stops comes around you are 1.2 seconds behind him, only getting near enough to attempt one or two overtakes. With less than twenty laps to go, a sense of urgency overcomes you. You start to push a little harder. Eventually, you get DRS on Max, you draw closer and closer on the main straight, but not quite close enough to make a dive bomb. After a few more laps of getting closer but still being too far, on lap sixty-one of seventy you stick close to his gearbox the entire lap. Following close through the corners and gaining the slipstream on the limited straights around the Hungaroring. When the two of you arrive on the main straight you open your rear wing and tuck in behind him for the slipstream. Getting closer and closer, you pull to the inside and draw alongside him. Heading into the first turn, you have the inside line, but leave enough room for him on the outside. He keeps his foot in and stays level with you then, heading into turn two, the sweeping left-hander, you keep your nose in front of him. And you hit the throttle quicker letting you pull in front of him. Verstappen has to concede the position and you take the lead of the Grand Prix. The Williams garage erupts, everyone is losing their shit. For the first time in forever, one of their cars is leading a race. Sydney has the biggest grin on her face, she has no chance of hiding how proud she is. For the last nine laps you defend like your life depends on it. Max throws everything at you, but each time you turn him away skillfully.

“As she rounds the final bend, it’s a fairytale story for Y/N Y/L/N and Williams. Almost a year since one of the worst accidents the F1 community has seen, she returns and in her first race back, 

Y/N Y/L/N WINS THE HUNGARIAN GRAND PRIX!”

When you cross the line you put your head in your hands and cry. The darkest time of your life had ended and you had come through, better than ever. 

“Oh my God, mate! You did it! You’ve won a Grand Prix, congratulations!” Gaetan sounds elated over the radio and you can’t blame him. 

“Holy shit, guys. I’m crying, stop. Thank you everyone so, so much for all your hard work and for supporting me throughout everything. I couldn’t ask for a more amazing team, thank you.” Your stifled sobs break up your words, but the words still get out. Stopping in front of the first place sign, you take a moment inside of the cockpit to just calm down. Unbuckling and removing the headrest, you step out of the car and stand on top of it raising your arms in triumph. Everyone cheers for you as you wave at the crowd. You rush to your team and jump into they’re awaiting arms. After celebrating with your team for a few seconds, you look for your girlfriend. She waves to get your attention, you grin and make your way over to her. She pulls you into a bone-crushing hug. Pulling away, she tilts her forehead against your helmet-covered one. 

“Everything’s okay,” she mumbles to you. A stupid smile appears on your face as you reply,

“Yeah, everything is okay, love.”

Present Day

“Liebe? Are you sure you want to do this?” Your girlfriend appears in front of you, a concern clear upon her features. Sighing, your hand runs over the scar on the side of your head, a nervous habit you developed during your recovery. Sydney gently takes your hand and interlocks your fingers with hers. Her heart breaks when she looks into your eyes and finds them glossed over with tears. “You know you don’t have to do this, Tom will understand if you back out,” she tries to reassure you. You shake your head,

“No, no. I want to do this. It’s time.” She looks at you warily before releasing your hand from hers. Tom Clarkson, the host of the F1: Beyond the Grid podcast, had come to you a few weeks ago asking if you would like to come onto the podcast and share your story. You, of course, had said yes, not hesitating much about it, Sydney on the other hand was much more cautious about it. It took you months and months before you were able to express your feelings to her, now you were just supposed to share your insane story to the entire world? She was praying that everything would go smoothly and that you wouldn’t close off after. As you sat down and adjusted the mic on the desk to sit closer to you, Tom quickly ran through some of the topics he was going to question you about. While most of them were touch subjects, you felt comfortable enough to talk about them. Especially with Sydney sitting not too far away. 

“After one of the most terrifying incidents the F1 world has seen in recent memory, she’s completed one of the most outstanding comebacks we’ve ever seen,” Tom introduces you into the podcast and you guys fall into a relaxed conversation for a few minutes. “Now, Y/N, today marks exactly one year since your accident. How are you feeling about that?” You gulp. It was odd to think that it only happened a year ago.

“Um, yeah, definitely crazy. I feel I’ve come so far and had to overcome so many obstacles. I don’t think I would’ve been able to return if not for the many people around me who helped me during my recovery.” 

He nods, “Anyone specifically who made a big difference?”

“My girlfriend. She was and is my rock, looking back at it I realize how much of an asshole I was to her and how much she looked out for me when she didn’t have to,” you explain, a love-struck smile on your face. Tom chuckles at your expression before asking the next question,

“So, was there any mantra or saying that inspired you over the last year?” Your smile gets wider and you nod excitedly. “There was? What was it?” You look over at Sydney before answering.

“Everything is going to be okay.”

#woso x reader #woso fic #woso fanfics #woso imagine #sydney lohmann x reader #sydney lohmann #woso x f1 reader #bayern munich frauen x reader #gerwnt x reader