#because such things always amuses me (am I a bad person?)

[chodzacaparodia]

FINALLY

[envy-of-the-apple]

The Monster You Know

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Synopsis: For your own safety, the strongest sorcerer of today kidnaps you.

Word Count: 6.9k

(Warnings: implied masturbation, implied nsfw, implied noncon recording, death of a minor character.....im pretty sure i missed a warning so lemme know any pls)

Instead of waking up in a bed, you find yourself on the floor.

It's not a comfortable spot to sleep in. The carpet is clean, but it's odd because you don't have this type of carpet in your room. Actually, this isn't your room at all. 

But the panic doesn't really set in until you realize your arms are bound. 

You don't notice him until he speaks. You're too busy yanking on the metal, pulling your hand as hard as you could. The cuffs don't even budge. 

"If you keep yanking your arms like that, you might break 'em." 

He's tall, rivaling the door he just walked through. He looks a couple of years older than you, but his white hair can't be natural, not at his age. His blue eyes are lax. The worst part is how relaxed he looks. He has an eased posture and a pretty smile. He's amused, watching you like you’re a pesky mouse trapped in a bucket. 

You don’t know him. You’re stuck in an unfamiliar room, chained to the floor, and you don’t know this man. 

Escape isn’t possible. So you resort to the next best thing: you plead. 

“Who are you?” Your voice is light and wavers on every syllable. “Where-Where am I? Did you bring me here? Please don’t-“

”You always this talkative in the morning?” He dodges your question with a lax grin. “Anyway, uh, sorry about this-“ he gestures to your tied-up form “-I would've used a talisman, but those won’t work on you for obvious reasons. The handcuffs aren’t too tight, are they?” 

He steps closer, and you scream. It’s shrill, filled with a type of fear that makes your blood freeze because you don’t know this man, you don’t know where you are, and he’s getting closer. 

“Okay okay, I get it!” He manages to say over your pleas for help, but he steps back, and it’s enough to quiet your fear. “Obviously, you need some more time alone, so I’m gonna give you a couple more hours. Feel free to take a mint!” He cheerily points to the nightstand. 

He leaves as quickly as he enters. The door shuts but doesn’t lock. You’d be relieved if you weren’t still incapacitated. 

You look around the room. Nothing of value, nothing that you could reach and grab. Apart from a chair, the only other pieces of furniture were a heavy-looking bed and a bolted-down nightstand. Your kidnapper was certainly meticulous. 

The restraints have just enough slack for you to lean over. You peer at the nightstand. A plastic bowl, too flimsy to be made into a weapon. It contains wrapped-white candies. You gingerly pick one up. 

They’re sugar-free. 

He returns to the mints scattered all over the floor. 

“Okay.” He notes, gracefully stepping over the mess. “Clearly, you aren’t a fan of peppermint. 'you a wintergreen kinda’ person?” 

You don’t look at him. You’ve been in the same position you had been in for hours, sitting curled on the floor. By then, your desperation was starting to show through. 

“Please just let me go.” You mutter, your voice so low, it’s a miracle he can hear you. “I don’t have any money. I have nothing to offer.”

”Well, that’s good because I don’t want your money.” He says. “I know this looks pretty bad, but this is for your sake more than mine.”

You look at him just as he squats down to your height. You shift away. he smiles.

”Do you know what sorcerer's are?” 

You blink. 

“It’s fine if you don’t; we all start somewhere, right? A sorcerer is someone who can manipulate cursed energy. I’m a sorcerer! I don’t wanna brag too much, but I’m pretty good at it.” 

He laughs like he’s telling a joke, and you suddenly realize that you were kidnapped by someone who believes he’s a wizard. 

“Guess you’re still lost, huh? How about I just show you instead?” He points to an ironed-out shirt hanging on a rack. You follow his finger. 

He didn't move. There was no machinery. The shirt just crinkled by itself before it dropped to the floor. 

You gape. The man grins. 

"Pretty amazing, right? That's cursed energy, or, my power if you wanna be less technical." 

"Cursed energy." You whisper, a repetition of his words rather than any actual understanding. He beams regardless. 

"Yeah! Well, it's a little more complicated than that, but let's just start with the basics for now. Baby steps." 

Your dread doesn't fade. Earlier, you feared what a man could do to you, tied and defenseless. Now, you wondered what this man wouldn't do to you. 

"Okay, then....why?" You warily ask him. "Why tell me any of this? What's the point?" 

"An excellent question!" He commends you, as though he were your teacher and not your jailor. "See, cursed energy is a bit complicated, but it's extremely effective. In almost every case, it's the solution. Except for you." 

You shrink back. 

"What-what does that mean?"

His grin turns feline. He's enjoying this; seeing you shake, waver beneath his eyes. 

"Exactly what I said: you aren't affected by cursed energy. A sorcerer could use their technique on you, and there won't even be a scratch on your body. You're basically the Eraserhead of the Jujutsu World." 

You stare at him. He hums, drumming his fingers on his thigh. 

"I'm not great at explanations. How about we just have a hands-on experience?" 

He extends his hands. A purple orb crackles to life, slowly gaining mass. 

"Not too big," he says, though it's clear he isn't speaking to you, "don't wanna wreck the room." 

He adjusts his angle so it's facing you. Your eyes widen, and the desperation to wrangle yourself out of the handcuffs grows stronger. 

"Wait, stop!" You pleads fall on deaf ears. "Okay okay. I believe you. I believe you-" He flicks his fingers. You close your eyes just before impact. 

You expected something. Electricity, a shock. Pain. Your body being eviscerated in milliseconds. 

Nothing. Not even a gust of wind. 

When your eyes open, he's grinning at you. 

"See?" He says, "Not even a scratch." 

He's right. Your clothes aren't even rustled, but the evidence is there. The carpet below you is shaved and cleaned off. And the wall closest to you has cracks on it.

You look back up at him. 

"I said I believed you." 

He shrugs. "Doesn't hurt to make sure we're on the same page." His smile is starting to look less scary and more annoying. 

Your mind still struggles to keep up with all the information you've been given. The typhoon of anxiety is coursing through you. 

"So, then....why this?" You mention to the handcuffs. 

"Just a little confirmation you won't go crazy and destroy the place." He supplies happily. "If jujutsu doesn't work on you, then bindings and talismans definitely won't do a thing. Looking back, abduction probably wasn't the greatest idea in the world. I would've figured something else out, but time wasn't on our side in this case. Especially if we wanted you alive." 

You pale at that. He notices. 

"What, you thought I'd be the only person who noticed you? You're an anomaly. In our world, that's dangerous. Also, the bounty on your head is a pretty nice incentive for people to get the job done." 

"A bounty?"

He grins, and the number he gives makes your mouth hang open. 

"Yup, pretty crazy, right? Anyway, until everything settles down, you and I are roomies!" He claps. "Isn't that exciting!?" 

You glance at him. Then, in the room. Then, at your cuffs. Everything was going so fast. The only constant was him. 

"So, I'm not really a prisoner?" You ask. "I could just...leave, right?" 

"Sure you could. If you hear all that and still wanna go, I won't stop you. Promise." He nods. "But you'd be dead as soon as you step out of the apartment." 

It's not a threat. It's a promise. And not from him. That makes it worse. 

This is insane. All of this is insane; who'd believe any of it? But his powers....that can't be faked. As well as everything that he told you. Why would he lie? What reason could he have to deceive you? 

"Okay," you say hesitantly, "just one more thing." 

The man leans in. 

"What's your name?" 

He smiles. 

Becoming Gojo's roommate was an easy transition. 

You’ve always been someone who goes with the flow. Becoming someone's consenting captive isn't a struggle once you get used to it. A few days in and you and your 'captor' have fallen into an easy rhythm. It's easy to grow trusting of him, especially when there are others who can vouch for him. 

"You should be arrested." Ieiri mumbles, checking your wrists. 

"What? I can't believe you're upset with me." Gojo responds though he doesn't sound very panicked. "I was desperate!" 

Ieiri shakes her head, continuing wrapping your wrists. Amid your panic during the first few hours in Gojo's apartment, you managed to sprain your wrists, trying to yank yourself out of the handcuffs. You wince when she presses on your bruised skin. 

"Sorry," she says, voice flat. You smile anyway. 

Ieiri was also a sorcerer, but she had a different technique. Instead of Gojo's destruction, hers revolved around healing. You've never really seen it in action ("My technique won't work on you; even then, it's a sprained wrist. You'll live."), but it sounded pretty powerful. 

"I'm not upset." Ieiri continues. "But I'm surprised you're going along with all this." That sentence is directed at you. 

You shrug while trying to keep still for her. "He was pretty convincing." 

Ieiri raises a brow, before ultimately deciding she doesn't care. 

"Again, I'm very sorry about all this." Ijichi pipes up. Ever since he entered Gojo's flat, he's been doing nothing but begging for your forgiveness for Gojo's abrupt actions. Apologetic, but not very shocked. You're assuming this isn't the first time Gojo has done something like this. 

Gojo's allies were very different from each other, you ultimately decided. 

“We thought we’d have more time to approach you,” he continues with a nervous smile, “we never expected the clans to move so quickly.” 

“Clans?” You ask, “What clans?” 

Ijichi gives Gojo a look. Gojo looks away, whistling. Eventually, Ijichi’s shoulders drop. 

“Some minor clans with dwindling jujitsu sorcerers.” He gives. “And then the bounty happened and well…” he trails off. 

You nod. “So, when will everything go back to normal?”

Gojo grins. Ieiri sighs. It’s Ijichi who gives the most concrete response. 

You look at the three of them. “Or will things ever go back to normal?”

”It’s hard to say,” Ijichi says, “news travels fast in the jujutsu world, but it’s not improbable. Miyashiro will let us know eventually.” 

"Miyashiro?” 

To answer your question, Ijichi pulls out his phone. You stare at a picture of yourself. But you know you’ve never been in that restaurant before. 

“It’s his technique.” Ijichi tells you. “Flesh manipulation. For the time being, Miyashiro will pose as you and can hopefully air out any potential bounty hunters. He’s the perfect man for the job.” 

You nod, a bit skeptical. “Isn’t this a bit dangerous? Aren’t people trying to kill me?” 

Ijichi tucks away his phone. “Miyashiro is one our best. He'll be fine.” He assures. 

Satisfied with your answers, you nod. Ieiri pulls away after she finishes wrapping your hand. Gojo claps his hands together. 

“See, roomie? You’re in great hands!” He chirps. You nod, if only to seem compliant. 

Apart from Gojo himself, Ieiri and Ijichi are the only ones who know about your predicament, his most trusted people. The rest of the world is unaware that there's someone posing as you, nor that you've gone into hiding. Not your friends. Not even your family. ("It's for the best," Ijichi explained when you voiced your worries, "but we promise, once the bounty is down, we'll return you back to your life. It'll be like nothing ever happened.").

Settling in barely takes a week. Gojo's nice enough to lend you his room, more than happy to set up in the living room. Despite how you two 'met', he's quickly proven to be a nice guy. 

Nice. Just nice. 

To be honest, you don't know all that much about Gojo. He's letting you stay in his home, but you don't see him all that much. Gojo is gone pretty much all day. Sometimes, he's gone for days on end. The apartment feels more like yours than his. 

"I'm the strongest." He told you when you asked. You don't know what he means by that, so you didn't pry. 

Despite the awkwardness, you don't mind the distant relationship. The man probably has his day packed with hunting down demons and this school he talked about. 

The change doesn't happen until two weeks after you move in. 

You weren't allowed to have a phone, nor any internet access, so you mostly spent your time doing hobbies. You've always wanted to learn to crochet, and now you finally had time to actually learn. Drawing also took some hours out of your day. And eventually, you moved onto cooking. 

Ijichi was more than happy to grab you the grocery items when you asked. When you insisted on paying him back, he declined profusely. He was actually the one who organized getting your things and really moving you in. You have another thing you owe these people. 

Cooking was a steep learning curve. Before, you'd only made simple sandwiches and curries, so the food starting out wasn't the best. But you enjoyed the journey more, rather than the end result. Pretty soon, you became pretty good at it. 

Gojo wasn't home often these days, so you jump when the front door clicks open. He takes off that blindfold he's always wearing, blinking a couple times before his blue gaze settles on you in the kitchen. 

"What's all this?" He cocks his head. He isn't smiling. 

Oh no. You remembered getting permission to use his kitchen, but maybe he hadn't expected you to go this far? The kitchen is a mess. There's flour everywhere. You still hadn't washed the cutting board, nor the knives. 

"I'm sorry," you say, "I-I can clean up and-" 

He waves his hand. "It's fine. I'm not mad, I just..." He drifts off. 

You suddenly have a feeling that you might've misread this entire situation. 

"Would you like some?" You ask. "I think I made too much." 

"I could eat," he says.

You smile. 

A few moments later, the two of you are settled on the table. Gojo's never been so quiet before. In the short time you've known him, he's always been boisterous and playful. Now, he's silent. Staring at the food. 

You hold your breath when he takes his first bite. 

"It's good." He says, his mouth full. It's cute. "Really, really good. Damn." 

You laugh out of nerves. 

"You think so? I'm glad! It was my first time trying out this recipe and I wasn't sure if it'd turn out well and..." you're rambling, you know that. You can't help yourself. 

"No, it's good. Real good," he says. It's silent again, but not as uncomfortable this time. The only thing you hear is the clanking of silverware and the hum of the lights. Outside the window, the city lights twinkle. 

You're on your last bite when he speaks again. 

"'been a while since I've had a homecooked meal." He starts with a slight laugh. "Kinda' forgot what it's like." 

You think of the fridge. How it was only ever stacked with protein shakes and instant meals. Gojo was a sorcerer. The strongest. You think you get what that means now. 

"I wouldn't mind doing this more often," you say. 

He looks at you with the prettiest blue you've ever seen. The color of a bright cloudless sky. 

"I think I'd like that." 

Who ever said the phrase 'the quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach' was onto something. Your friendship with Gojo bloomed after that night. On the seldom nights he came home, dinner was made and sitting on the table. It took a few days for the two of you to warm up enough to talk to each other. Once Gojo got going, it was a lot harder to shut him up. He talked about his school, his work as a teacher for other jujutsu sorcerers. You liked the way he talked about his students. Nothing but pride and affection .

On the nights he didn't come home, you'd save the leftovers in the fridge. They were usually gone by the morning. 

He was around a lot more after that night. Not that you minded, it was his house. You just didn't get a few things about him. For example, that blindfold of his. Why wear it when it was clear he couldn't see with it on? 

You decide to bring it up the third time he nearly runs you over.

"It's part of my technique." He explains. "The six eyes. They're basically cursed energy x-rays. The blindfold just limits their strength." 

You were lounged on the sofa watching TV while he was plopped right next to you. He's switched his blindfold for his glasses. 

"Oh," you say when it clicks, "and since I block people's abilities you..." 

"Yup! Can't see you at all!" Gojo happily fills in. "It doesn't help that you're so quiet. Maybe I should put a bell on you." 

You laugh, but it doesn't sound like he was joking. 

"What's it like?" You ask, turning to him, "Seeing the way, you see? What-what do you see?"

"Everything." Gojo shrugs. 

You frown. "That's not very descriptive." 

He laughs. "Here, wanna try?" He takes off his glasses, handing them over. "These things are real popular with the ladies." 

He's avoiding the question, but you don't bother chasing him for it. Instead, you grab the lenses, pulling them over your eyes. You expect to see the secrets of the universe. Instead, you see nothing but darkness. Though, that might be the point.  

"Everything, hm?" You ask, when you take them off. "That sounds exhausting." 

He takes them back with a grin. "It is! My eyes hurt so so much! You should pity me and make matcha tiramisu." 

You laugh, drawing back. "That's what this is about? To guilt trip me into making dessert for you?" 

"Did it work?" 

You think for a moment.

"Get me the ingredients, and I'll see." 

He cheers but doesn't fully answer your question until the episode ends when you've bid him goodnight and are about to return to the bedroom. 

"You're blurry from far away." 

When you look at him, his glasses are gone, tucked under his collar. It's night, but the sky still stares down at you. His usual smile is gone, stretched into a line you can't place. 

"I can see down to molecules, atoms. Not you." 

You look at him, his eyes. The beautiful curse they are. 

You force yourself to take the first step. Then another. Then another. When you're right in front of him, when he's towering over you, you open to your mouth. 

"What do you see, Gojo?" 

"Everything." He honestly replies. 

Everything. Not just cursed energy. Down to cells, molecules, atoms. You can't fathom how much that is, the essence of everything. What's that like? Being able to see the universe so much that it hurts? So much so that it makes him want to wear a blindfold and never see anything again. 

But you're blurry. Gojo can't see you the way he sees others. 

You reach your hands up slowly like you're approaching a wild animal. In some ways, maybe that's what Gojo is: unpredictable, able to wield the power of space—power that's useless against you. 

You cover his eyes. He doesn't stop you. 

"What do you see, Satoru?" 

He doesn't speak, and you're afraid he's forgotten how. 

"Nothing." Quiet, barely more than a whisper.

He slouches ever so slightly, leaning into your hands like some weight's been lifted. It makes you smile. 

When you try to pull your hands away, his wrap around your wrist, keeping you there. So you stay—for as long as he wants. 

It starts something of a tradition between the two of you. Not every night, not even most nights, but every so often, Satoru would grow quiet, shift in a particular way. You hoped it was therapeutic for him, a break rather than a glimpse of what could have been. You hoped you were helping. 

And, if you were torturing him, hopefully, you won't be for long. 

"How much longer do you think I have to do this?" You ask. 

He hums, clearly not paying attention. You two were in the kitchen, making some sweet he saw trending on the internet. Well, you were doing all the work. Satoru kept trying to steal the batter. 

"You know. Sleeping under your roof, eating all your food, stealing you bed." You urge, while whisking. 

"You're acting like I've been keeping you in the attic, roomie." Satoru pouts. "C'mon, I haven't been that bad, have I?" 

"I'm asking for your sake rather than mine," you tell him. "I'm sure you'll be thrilled to have your house back, and your bed. When will everything settle down?" 

His blindfold is on, as it usually is. To help him out, you've taken to wearing squeaky slippers around the house. He'd offered to buy you one of those cat collars with bells. You declined. 

He's looking in your direction. You know he can't see you, but you can still feel his eyes on you. It's a strange feeling. 

"There's talks of taking down the bounty," Satoru finally says, losing his playful tone, "just rumors, nothing concrete. Worst comes to worst, we'll have to relocate you somewhere overseas." 

Yeah, you were worried about that. Leaving everything behind, your home, your friends, your family, because your life was in danger. You hoped it wouldn't have to come to that. 

"We have a couple of options, though," Satoru says, "negotiations, for one." 

You perk up at that. "Negotiations?" You ask. 

He nods. "Right now, you're under my protection. Unofficially. I could pull some strings, get those old geezers at the academy to take you in as some special assistant." 

You tilt your head. "Like at the school that you teach, right?" 

He nods. "We have a case like yours attending the school, too. I think you and him would get along." 

"Your ability could be pretty useful to us. You might even get out in the field every so often." Satoru continues. "A special technique like that would be wasted down here." 

Special. He's said that before. You can't remember when, but you know he's right. You're an anomaly, but you can use your abilities for good. But could you really do that? Risk your life every day? Lose pieces of yourself like that?

"I don't really feel special," you say, "I don't want to be special either." You glance at him. "Is that a bad thing?" 

Even blindfolded, somehow, his eyes find yours. 

"No," he says, no judgment in his voice, "it just makes you human." 

Relief. You can feel it sinking through your veins. Part of you feels guilty. Satoru is right; you could do a lot. But you...you don't want to end up like him. 

That makes you feel even worse, but then you catch something in his tone. 

"You sound like you're not very human," you say back. You're teasing, but it falls flat. 

He hums. It's not quite the response you were looking for. It takes a second for him to start up again. 

"When I was younger, people used to call me creepy." 

You stare at him. 

"What?." 

He grins, but it's not his usual one. 

"It's true." He shrugs. "Mostly, it was 'cause of my eyes. They called them unnerving. Monstrous. My folks were always a creative bunch." He says it so casually, but you can hear the bite on his voice. It's phrased as a joke, but it isn't.

You put down your whisk, giving him your full attention. 

"That's not true," you respond, "you know that, right? You aren't a monster. Monsters aren't as kind as you are." 

"Oh?" He tilts his head. "Maybe I'm using my kindness as a lure to trap you. Guess you just fell for it, roomie. 'thought you were smarter than that." You roll your eyes. 

"Okay, fine, I yield. You're a monster. But out of all the monsters in the world, I'd pick you." 

For a moment, there's silence in the kitchen. Then- 

"So cheesy!" Satoru laughs. He reaches over, roughly pinching your cheek. "Who knew you could say such cute things, roomie." 

You slap his hands away, now extremely annoyed. 

"Nevermind. I take it back," you retort. "I'd run away as far as I could from you." 

"Good, you should," he replies. "I won't stop you." 

You scoff. 

"Maybe that's why everyone thought you were creepy." You go back to your whisking. "It's not your eyes, you just say a lot of ominous shit." 

Despite how peaceful it is, making desert, cooking, and acting domestic, it can't last forever. The world was still hunting for you, and it had no problems reminding you of that. 

One night, you wake up to the sounds of hushed talking. 

It's coming from the living room. Multiple voices. Quiet but urgent. You're used to the noise. Satoru has this habit of blasting terrible soap operas at 2 am. You don't think that man sleeps. Over time, you've gotten used to at least one disturbance. 

But this feels different. It's enough to rub the sleep out of your eyes, making you pad over to the hall. 

They hear you before they see you. Satoru's apartment has creaky floorboards. Ijichi tugs on the collar of his shirt nervously. Ieiri just looks away. Satoru is leaning back against the couch, legs crossed. He's frowning. That's how you know something isn't right. 

"Is everything okay?" You ask anyway. 

Ijichi gives a tight grin. 

"Everything's fine." He's quick to console. "We-we were just-" 

"Stop." Satoru immediately cuts in. He's wearing his blindfold. You can't tell what he's thinking. 

"We're not hiding it. Everyone involved should know." 

Ijichi deflates. You think Ieiri sneers. 

Satoru beckons you closer with long fingers. You step forward. They're sitting around a computer. You peek at the screen.

Instantly, you wish you hadn't. 

There were pictures of you. Dead. Your body parts were strewn across the floor. Your hands were broken in every other way. Your legs were in pieces. Your head snapped clean off, blood oozing from your appendages like you were just a packet of liquid. One of your eyes was missing from its socket. The other was crushed. But it wasn't you, it was- 

"Miyashiro. At least, what's left of him." Satoru gives.  

The doppelganger, the guy who was covering for you. He was supposed to be one of their best; what happened to him? 

What was going to happen to you? 

They're talking again. At least, you think they are. Their words are muffled, filtered through water. You can't make out what anyone is saying. Your heart's beating too fast. It's pounding through your ears. You can only stare at the picture, what was left of him. Someone's touching you. A hand on your back. 

"Roomie, hey," Satoru's voice comes.

The pounding stops. You look up at him. 

Angelic. It's the only word you could think of. His snow-white hair was pretty, falling elegantly down his face. He'd taken his blindfold off. Blue eyes, sparkling, cleansing. Purifying, like the Ganges river. 

How could anyone think a beautiful sight like this was monstrous? 

He calls your name, your real name, and you break. 

You cling to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. And you're sobbing, tears of everything flowing down your face. 

Hands, hesitant, unsure, rest on your back. And then Satoru's holding you as tightly as he can.

He's warm. It's all you can think as you shake in his hold. 

He's warm. 

"I won't have to worry about that if I just gave in, hm?" You ask. 

It was a couple of days later from your episode. Satoru had convinced you to give one of his soap operas a shot. On-screen, a woman slapped her cheating husband. 

Satoru was lounging beside you, feet propped up on the coffee table. You want to tell him off, but it's his house. 

"If you went to the school, you mean?" He asks. "Probably. You'd be a lot freer. Won't have to sit in a cramped apartment all day. 'sides, jujutsu tech is always on the lookout for fresh talent. The higher-ups would be ecstatic to have someone like you under their thumb." 

"But I'd have to become a sorcerer." You say the unspoken. 

Gojo nods. "Yeah, you would." 

And you don't want that. To face curses, to face death every day. You know you can't handle that. You aren't strong, like Satoru. 

"I'm sorry," you say. 

He laughs. "For what?" 

You shrug as the on-screen couple makes up again. "For being...a coward, I guess."

He thinks for a moment. 

"It's not about bravery," he says in the end, "being a sorcerer is just...that. A sorcerer. It's a job. A title. Only a special few can do it. The crazy ones." 

His tone gets a bit playful. 

"No offense, roomie, but I don't think you got enough crazy in you." 

"That's a compliment, actually." You correct. He ignores you. 

"'sides, I like you staying here." Satoru declares, stretching his arms out on the couch. "Who'd feed me? It'd be horrible to go back to ramen again." 

You roll your eyes. "Right. Who else will wake at 2 am because of your whining to make wagashi?" 

"See! You get it!" Satoru grins. You can't force the smile off your face. 

The husband's mistress has entered the set. The wife is confident that her husband will choose her. She's left heartbroken all over again. You don't get how she couldn't see it. The red flags were all there, and still, she was left blindsided. Never saw it coming. She trusts too easily, you decided. 

"Also, I like having you here," Satoru says. 

You glance at him. He's watching the screen. 

"It's...nice." He admits after a bit. "To have company like this. It reminds me of back when I was younger. When the two of us lived in the dorms." 

When he was a student? Who was he talking about? You don't pry. It's clear he isn't talking to you. 

"I'm glad you're here," Satoru says. 

Lightly, you bump shoulders with him. Infinity doesn't stop you. 

"You're a sweet monster." You tell him. 

He gives a secret grin. 

Every once in a while, Gojo peeks into the bedroom while you're sleeping. 

He's subtle about it, doesn't make too much noise. You're a light sleeper, so it takes little to nothing to wake you up. 

He doesn't do anything. He stands there, shuffles here and there, hovering by the foot of the bed. You just pretend to be asleep in those cases, evening out your breaths, closing your eyes. It's always the same. He loiters around for a minute, and then he's shutting the door behind him. 

It's strange, but you try not to think too much of it. He was probably looking for something. It's his room after all. 

It's just...strange. 

You find it when you're looking through his book shelf. 

He doesn't have anything interesting to read. It's mainly just historical novels. You're perusing through one before a photograph falls out of the pages. 

It's tiny, barely larger than your palm. It only takes a second to realize what you're looking at. 

"Found your baby pictures." You gleefully tell Satoru when he comes back. 

"What?" He tilts his head; you wave the photo in front of him. When he tries to take it, you pull back. 

"Tiny Satoru!" You squeal. "Who knew you were once so small? I always thought you were born six feet over." 

It's a simple photograph, a little aged, but still clear. Satoru looks about eight, standing between a man and a woman. His face is eerily blank. He stares with no emotion, not even a smile. He isn't wearing sunglasses or a blindfold. Doll-like blue eyes. You don't feel like you're looking at a child. He's too-

"Are those your parents?" You ask, letting him take the photograph from you. 

"No," he says, "my caretakers." 

Caretakers. Not nannies, or anything else. It felt so clinical. You lean against his shoulder, still staring at the photograph. 

"You look cute." You finally say. When you peak over, a hint of a smile is twitching on his face. "But I totally agree with everyone. You look creepy. Like one of those children from the exorcist. Climbing over the walls." 

"I never grew out of that phase." Satoru ponders. You laugh. 

"What was it like?" You ask. "You said you're from a clan, right?" 

"Exhausting." Satoru groans. "Never a break from training. I should go back and sue my folks for child abuse. I could get millions." 

"I could help you with that." You pipe in. "I've never gone to law school, but I feel like I'd make a great lawyer." 

"I'll keep that in mind." He promises teasingly before his smile fades. 

"But that's the norm for most kids in jujutsu." He sighs. "Gotta' be perfect. Gotta' be the best, right from the beginning. There's a student I know who had a rough start, but she's the best in her class. Her clan didn't care about her potential. Those kids are all scary talented, they just need a bit of nurturing, that's all." 

You stare at him. He catches you. 

"What?" He asks, before his eyes widen. "Do I have a pimple?" 

You shake your head. "For some reason, I feel like that's impossible for you." You tease.

"I'm just admiring you, I think. For being such a kind person." 

"I thought we agreed I was a monster." Satoru points out. 

This again. You roll your eyes. 

"Fine, a good monster." You correct. "A monster, I know." 

"The monster you know." He repeats

You want to ask him why he's so insistent on that. For some reason, you hold your voice. 

Satoru's apartment had two bathrooms. Lately, the one in the bedroom has had some issues. 

It's been awkward lately trying to share the only working bathroom. Satoru and you shower at around the same time, so you've opted to hold back your morning routine a little later. You still manage to catch each other. The amount of times you've accidentally caught him walking around with nothing but a towel around his waist would be too mortifying to admit. 

But, so far, it's working. And you can't complain since you at least have one working bathroom. It's the little things. 

Tonight, you wake up to your bladder urging you to move. And yet, your body still wants to sleep. You check the time. It's nearly 2 in the morning.

It takes a while to pull yourself up, unraveling yourself from the covers before you're trudging out the bedroom. Satoru's apartment is so dark. It's a completely different look compared to daytime. You feel your way with the walls, letting your eyes adjust to the dark. When you peek over at the living room, Satoru isn't there. He must not be coming home tonight. 

The bathroom is shut, but there's a sliver of light bleeding under the door. Fuck, you did not shut the lights off last time. You need to be less careless. 

At first, you think Satoru's hurt. 

He looks hurt. He's hunched over, shaking shoulders, harsh breathing. You can only see his back, but he looks like he's in agony. You're about to step forward, ask what happened, and then you catch a glimpse of what he's clutching. 

Pretty, blue, laced panties. 

Your panties. 

And you're close enough to hear his voice whispering your name. Over and over again. 

"Fuck, fuck, baby, need you, just lemme-just lemme, all mine, all mine-"

He doubles over, tightening his grip on the edge of the sink. Your panties are damp. 

You flinch, and in your moment of panic, you step back. Creaky floorboards. 

Satoru looks up in the mirror. You don't move. 

He takes his time. Placing his phone down. Adjusting his pants, washing his hands. You can only stand there, frozen. Staring. Staring until he's in front of you, looking right back. 

You might have forgiven him if he had fumbled, laughed it off, became bashful. A human reaction. His face is eerily blank. He stares with no emotion, not even a smile. His eyes mirror that photograph. Doll-like, absolutely empty. 

Monstrous. 

Your eyes water. He turns blurry for a second. 

Satoru steps aside. You wordlessly enter the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. You don't bother locking. 

You don't know how long you stay there, quiet, shaking, your mind trying to piece together what you just saw. You stay there for hours. You stay there for seconds. Time stretches on like infinity itself, yet even then, it's too short. 

You're alone with him. It's a thought you never even had until now. You're alone with him. 

Satoru is outside. You don't look at him, staring at the floor, looking at the carpet, counting each strand. You keep your head down when you return to the bedroom. 

He follows. You say nothing. You don't look. You don't look, even when the covers shift and he gets into bed behind you. You don't look, even when there's a hand on your shoulder. You don't look, even when there's a chest pressed against your back. 

You shiver, you shake. You don't look. He says nothing, even when you break down completely. 

You wake up alone the next morning. 

You don't waste a second. You're stumbling through the room, picking up your clothes, packing everything that you need. You're so panicked that you manage to knock over an alarm clock. 

It's habit to reach down and pick it up. Learned politeness to scrutinize it to make sure it isn't broken. 

A black dot stares back at you. 

A camera. 

Horrible memories of last night come back. He was watching something on his phone. 

You feel nauseous, about to give all over the floor. You need to go. You needed to get out of there. 

The apartment is silent, like it always is when Satoru isn't here. You just hadn't noticed how cold it was, lifeless. It makes the pit on your stomach gap. You expect the windows to be bolted shut. They aren't. Sunlight streams through the glass. The front door is unbarred too. 

It's easy to leave. 

You stop anyway. One question. 

Where would you go? 

You can't go back home. Miyashiro's body still haunts you. His soul in your body, torn apart with such hatred and vitriol. Those people were still looking for you. The only reason you were still alive was because Miyashiro took your death bed. 

You'd die if you went back home. 

You can't go to jujutsu tech. You'd be expected to lay down your life, serve a maskless force that pretended to do good. You'd certainly die. Ripped apart by curses. 

You'd be slaughtered if you went to the school.

Every route is treacherous, nearly impossible, full of dangers and unknowns. 

At least, you know what Satoru wants. 

He's made it clear since the beginning. You were just willfully ignorant. Oblivious on purpose. More than happy to ignore the red flags because you knew he was a kind person to his students, ignoring the dichotomy of his actions. 

Two things can be right at once. 

Satoru won't stop you if you run. He told you that himself. You could leave if you wanted, and he won't follow. But every other path is filled with an intangible value, and Satoru is the monster you know. 

Your hand falls away from the doorknob. 

You get started on dinner.

You're still there when Satoru comes back. You say nothing. Neither does he. Dinner is a quiet affair. He doesn't talk about his day, he doesn't talk about his students. When you wash the plates, he's quietly standing behind you. When you get out of the shower, he's waiting outside the bathroom. 

You can't bring yourself to look at him until you get into bed. Your eyes trail up, past his legs, his shoulders, his neck. Looking into Satoru's crystal blue eyes. 

Blank. Numb. Empty. 

You think of the cameras. You think of your stolen underwear. 

You think of how much his eyes must hurt right then. 

You raise one hand out, grasping the sleeve of his shirt. It's barely a tug, but the monster follows like he's weightless, crawling into bed. He's too big to hold properly, but he sinks into your body anyway. His forehead rests against your chest. His eyes close. You don't feel that ice anymore. 

“What do you see, Satoru?” 

“Nothing.” A pause. A stilted breath. 

“Nothing but you.” 

He was right in the end. Satoru is a monster. There's no other word that can describe him. Inhuman, far above humanity itself. But he's the monster you'd pick, every single time.

[gojoest]

BEDTIME STORY (about love) — gojo satoru

in which satoru tells his daughter the story of how you met. those of you who’ve read this already know, but your now 4-year-old daughter is yet to hear it

girl dad satoru, father-daughter time, she/her pronouns used for reader, wc: 1k, not proofread, just a silly little thing

“papa”

“yes, my life?”

“how did you and mama meet?”

“oh my, i never told you the story?”

“no, papa. you didn’t”

“well—"

one thing gojo satoru never fails to do, no matter how busy his schedule, is reading bedtime stories to his 4-year-old daughter. even when he’s swamped with missions, he would make sure he is at home by the time his daughter had to sleep — after tucking her in, he would sit beside her with a book in hand and read her a story until she’s fast asleep.

but tonight, your daughter asked for a different kind of story — the origin of your love, how the two of you met — and truth be told, satoru was more than excited to talk about it (as he always is whenever the topic in question involved you).

his eyes glowing with the same old dreamy glint anytime your name was mentioned, he puts the book on the nightstand and makes himself comfortable next to his little one in bed. slightly scooching her over so he could sit with his back leaning against the headboard, he cradles her in his arms and takes a deep breath before starting.

“it all happened on my birthday, 7 years ago”

“december 7th!”, your daughter excitedly points out.

satoru chuckles, his chest swelling with joy that his little daughter remembers his birthday. “that’s right, my life. your mother came into my life like a birthday present”, his lips curl into a gentle smile as he reminisces about the night that changed his entire life.

“was mama invited to your birthday?”

“no, but we just happened to be in the same restaurant that night. while i was celebrating with friends, she was there, on another table, with her coworkers”

your daughter hums, “i see”

“she was so beautiful, i noticed her the moment she walked in. and i couldn’t take my eyes off her for the rest of the night. i knew i had to go and talk to her before she left. something in me knew she was the one, you know?”

your little one tilts her head up to look at satoru, eyes curiously blinking, “but how did you know, papa?”

“my heart whispered it to me, beating relentlessly the entire time. it was like this unknown force was pulling me towards your mom and the whole time i was trying to come up with a plan, an excuse even, to go talk to her without coming off as a weirdo”

“and did you succeed?”

“well, by the looks of it—”, he points at her and gently boops her nose, “i did”

she chuckles sweetly, “no, papa—i mean did you manage to not be a weirdo?”

“hmm, i’ll let you decide on that one. so pay attention, okay?”, to which she silently nods. his hand rubs the top of her head softly before continuing.

“you see, i couldn’t think of anything but nor could i wait any longer. i decided i’d just go and say hi. so i stood up and made my way towards her table. i had to know her as soon as possible, because every second of inaction felt like it was taking away from my future with her. any second was precious, you know? if i could be with her sooner, be it even a planck time earlier, i had to take it — as it would only add up to the time spent with her”

“what is planck time, papa?”, your daughter cuts him off.

“it’s theoretically considered to be the shortest measurable time”

“is it less than a second?”

“waaaaay less”

“woah, papa you were down bad for mama”, your daughter gasps in amusement.

an audible laugh breaks through satoru’s lips, “yea, i was. and i still am”

“and what happened when you went over?”

“i said hi but she wasn’t having it at all, didn’t even bat me an eye. tried to chase me off before i was able to introduce myself. but i was already determined to make her mine, i knew it deep down that she was my person. so i forced my way and introduced myself”

“papa you’re a stubborn one”

“yea, but your mother turned out to be even more stubborn. she dodged all my attempts at her. so, i had to make it very clear to her, let her know that the man standing before her was the one to be her boyfriend, then her husband, and then the father of her children — therefore, in order for all this to work, i asked for her number”

“you really said all that?” — satoru nods to her question affirmatively. “papa, that’s so bold of you, honestly”, another gasp leaves your 4-year-old’s mouth. “and then?”

“and then she got mad at me, thought i was playing around with her”, satoru chuckles, brushing a hand across his face at the memory, closing his eyes to replay that very scene in his mind. your reaction is still pretty vivid to him, how your eyes grew wide in disbelief after what he had just told you...

i am gojo satoru, also known as the man to be your boyfriend, then your husband, and then the father of your children — and you are to be my girlfriend, then my wife, and then the mother of my children…

…and then how you narrowed your eyes and gave him a good lecture.

is this your move? you pull this on everyone you find remotely attractive?

“to be honest, i was slightly panicking internally — this was my best move, you know? and it was failing. but luckily, your uncle suguru came to my aid. he convinced your mom to give me a chance before blatantly turning me down. and she did — i got her number by the end of the night”, a soft smile painted on his lips again. “look at us now — wasn’t i right about all that?”

“papa, you’re a hopeless romantic”

“you bet i am”, he smugly confirms.

“…and a bit of a weirdo”, she cackles quietly.

“oi”, satoru furrows his brows. his hand softly tickles the side of her, incurring a loud laugh on her end. “shhh, time to sleep now or else mama will scold me for keeping you up past your bedtime”

“but, papa — you did well, being a weirdo paid off”

“yea, it really did — it gave me a home and a family”, his eyes soften observing the treasure in his arms.

[norrizzandpia]

this might have to be more than one part, but can you please write a wrong number lando fic? like lando texts the wrong number somehow and they end up becoming good friends, they start falling for each other but lando lies about his identity the whole time until they meet or he tells the reader. and she’s pissed and she doesn’t know anything about f1 anyways so she doesn’t understand why he lied. with angst and stuff? idk if this is too specific or too much to ask!

Wrong Number, Right Person (LN4)

Summary: A wrong number leads Lando right to Y/n, but even the beautiful love they find together struggles to stand a chance against Lando’s lie of identity.

Warnings: none, BUT A HAPPY ENDING!!! Y/n’s bsf threatens to kill lando lol

Note: she is LONG! The word count is almost 9k oml but i have to say that @piastrification was a major help in making this because she read it for me and made it read less stupid! She also gave me some ideas so credit to her for that xx

If there was any moment where Y/n was beyond confused with absolutely no inkling of an answer, it was now. She stared down at her phone, clutching the device as she read over the message sitting on her Lock Screen over and over.

“What’s wrong?” Her best friend, Annie, asked. Her eyebrows were scrunched together in a way she had always done since they were kids, Y/n loved the way that had never changed. The two women had experienced so much growth over the years, but it was heartwarming to see some things hadn’t.

Her eyes flickered to Annie before turning her phone around, “Why does this person think I’m supposed to be meeting them in half an hour?”

Annie laughed out loud, taking the phone from the other girl’s hands and typing out a reply, “Seems like this poor person has the wrong number.”

When Y/n’s phone is returned to her grasp, she giggles at what Annie had done.

Unknown Number

Hey! Just letting you know I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Hope you aren’t running late like last time…

Y/n

Uh, I’m actually running really behind schedule. I won’t be able to get there until around three hours from now. Sorry.

The two girls continued their lunch, feeling a bit bad about messing with a stranger’s plans but laughing nonetheless. It wasn't until Y/n’s phone started blowing up that the color began to drain from their faces.

Unknown Number

WHAT? THREE HOURS????? WHAT?

Unknown Number

YOU’RE MESSING WITH ME RN

Unknown Number

If you don’t answer me in .5 seconds, I WILL show up to your house and wreck your shit

Unknown Number

LIKE WHAT? THREE HOURS? WE’VE HAD THESE PLANS FOR WEEKS MATE

Unknown Number

Literally answer me rn or I’m telling Oscar to help me plan your murder

Y/n’s hand clasped over her mouth as she frantically began to type out a reply, guilt settling over the amusement.

Y/n

You most definitely have the wrong number. Sorry, me and my friend thought it would be funny to tell you that your plans were basically ruined. Our bad. But, I have no idea who Oscar is and I pray for the person you are meaning to text rn. Plz don’t wreck their shit!

His response was immediate.

Unknown Number

Oh… sorry for my small outburst then. But, how am I meant to know this isn’t actually the person I’m trying to get a hold of?

Y/n laughed before Annie suggested taking a picture and sending it to the mysterious number. Probably stupid considering they had no idea who was on the other side of the phone, but an image was sent regardless.

Y/n

*Image Attached*

Y/n

I am most definitely not whoever you are trying to get a hold of.

The number doesn’t respond for a few minutes, busy for all they know or getting bored of texting a supposed stranger. However, her phone dings on the table and the two girls peek to see the response.

Unknown Number

Woah, you are for sure not who I am meant to be texting right now.

Unknown Number

You are very pretty tho

Y/n giggled,

Y/n

Thank you, but not thank you if you are an old man or serial killer. I don’t take compliments from psychos.

Unknown Number

Haha no I am not an old man or serial killer. I’m a child in a 24 year old man’s body.

Y/n

How do I know this for sure?

Unknown Number

Trust me?

Y/n

Okay, ig. What’s your name?

The food comes to the table and Annie begins to dig in, watching her best friend closely before the girl puts her phone down.

“He stopped responding. I asked for his name. Probably got scared or something.” She murmurs before cutting into her chicken. Annie nods her head side to side before they take up another topic of conversation, seemingly moving on from the previous random male who had interrupted their lunch.

However, there’s another vibration on the table ten minutes later. Y/n picks up her phone.

Unknown Number

Robert :) But, people call me Bob. What’s yours?

Y/n

I am going against everything my parents ever taught me by telling a stranger my name and what I look like… but I’m Y/n :)

Y/n

Btw bob sounds like a fake name that’s so funny

🏎️

The next day, Y/n wakes up to yet another message from Bob- who had begun to take up the majority of her text notifications’ real estate. She didn’t mind in the slightest, though. They got on like a house on fire, banter, jokes and conversation free-flowing at any given time.

Bob!

Good morning :)

Bob!

Wait, is it morning for you? Where do you even live?

Y/n

Okay, stalker. It’s literally 9 am, why am I already having to deal with a man trying to get my address.

Bob!

GIRL WHAT? That isn’t what i meant and you know it, Y/n

Y/n

Yes, i know what you meant, bob. I’m just joking lol

Y/n

I live in London! What about you?

Bob!

Monaco

Y/n

Shit, girl. You’re rich asf?

Bob!

NO nah nah nah. Y/n, I literally work as a server here. I enjoy the glamor tho

Y/n

Oh… so no diamond necklaces :( You could’ve been my sugar daddy, bob.

Bob!

😭

Y/n

No i joke I JOKE i can buy my own damn diamond necklaces

Bob!

Of course you can, Y/n. I’m not surprised.

Her heart warms at his portrayed support, and even though her bank account is in the negative, she likes to think Bob believes in her just as Annie does. Maybe he actually did.

She shakes her head at her thoughts. I’ve known him for a day, she thinks. He shouldn’t already mean this much to her. She doesn’t even know him.

Y/n

Ty, bob :) I have to go though. I have so much to get done today.

Bob!

Ok! text me when you’re free?

Y/n

yesss

—

There is a small void in Y/n’s body as she unlocks the front door of her apartment. A day of being broken down has taken its toll on her. Usually, it doesn’t get to her, the stress and pressure of it all, but today, as she flops down onto her ratty couch, part of her wants to give up.

Her phone buzzes underneath her leg.

Bob!

Are you free yet?? It’s been all day, y/n!!!

Y/n

sry, i just got home.

Bob!

Just now? Didn’t you leave at like 9:30 this morn??

Y/n

yeah

Bob!

Y/n, its 10:45 at night for you

Y/n

that would be correct… how did you know that?? Tracking my time zone, Robert?

Bob!

you might be scared to hear I have London saved on my world clock so I can see it at all times

Y/n

thats love fr

Y/n

but yeah its been a long day

Bob!

oh, well, im sorry :( how are you? Tired?

Y/n

Yeah, definitely. Just a hard day in general.

Bob!

Talk to me about it then <3

Her face blushes before the color is being forced back beneath her face. She doesn’t know this man enough to tell him all her sorrows. He’s just being nice.

Y/n

it’s ok. Thank you tho bob

Bob!

Who else are you planning to talk to abt it then?

Y/n

no one?

Bob!

you need to talk about it y/n to let it go. Talk to me.

Y/n

We barely know each other.

Bob!

Do i look like i care?

She laughs and types,

Y/n

Bob, I don’t even know what you look like

Bob!

We’ll fix that someday :) Now talk to me about everything

Y/n takes a breath before her fingers begin flying across the keyboard.

Y/n

People are just mean. I try so hard everyday to give my all and my best effort, to not let people down, but I seem to still do it. I can’t quite get things right and my boss is suffocating me with the way he looms over me like I can't hold my own. It makes me think I can't. There’s no room for mistakes or excuses, you have to be perfect in the office i work and i will never be that. There’s this other girl who holds my same position yet she does it so much better. I will never hold a candle to her and I know that. She’s everything I want to be because she accomplishes everything I can't. My boss knows it, everyone knows it, and it makes me feel like an outsider. I can’t share certain memories with these people or fit in quite right because I haven't been able to achieve the same success as they have. I know I’m just starting out and I have the rest of my life to surpass them, but what if I can't? What if I am never able to gain a good understanding and I am constantly behind?

There are tears pooling in her eyes as she relives the moments of her day when certain tasks were given to this girl she envies, Sam, while her boss gave her a look that had her close to quitting on the spot. Sam gets to revel in the future while Y/n stays in terror of it. A career path she has wanted all her life taunting her.

Bob!

I can relate to that. I can understand the feeling of seeing everyone around you get something you want so dearly while you share the same tools they do and yet you still come up empty. But I’ve also learned that good things come with time and we can’t always be yearning for something that isn’t meant to happen right now. What’s meant to happen will happen for you, I’m sure of it, Y/n. I know it’s hard to not be jealous or feel inadequate, but you just have to make peace with the fact that you try your best and that’s enough. You’re a good person, Y/n. All the good will come to you.

There’s something in his words that makes her feel heard and for once, Y/n finds peace in another’s reassurance. She doesn’t want to think about what that means toward who Bob is to her.

Y/n

Thank you. That means a lot.

Bob!

Of course. I wish I would’ve had someone telling me that when I was experiencing it.

Y/n

When were you experiencing it?

Bob!

A few years ago. But, that doesn’t matter.

Y/n

You’re always vague, bob. Give me something please? I’ve told you so much.

Bob!

There’s not much to tell, Y/n.

Y/n

You’re a server. Is that something you want to do for the rest of your life?

Bob!

I don’t know. I’m still figuring it out.

Y/n

VAGUE

Bob!

Ok, okkk!! I don’t want to be a server for the rest of my life. I think I’d like to work in Formula One. I’ve always loved racing and cars, the thrill of speed and all that. Trying to be Max Verstappen fs

Her eyes twinkle,

Y/n

Haha yeah right brotha

Y/n

That’s great tho! I think you’d be great in Formula One, Bob. I’ve heard of it but not a huge fan. It seems boring.

Bob!

Damn, shitting on my favorite thing… but thank you, Y/n. I think I’d be great too.

Y/n

You know i didn’t mean it that way!! What about your family?

Bob!

If you’re gonna ask me all these questions, should we just call?? Might be easier haha

She stares at his text for a moment, only a few seconds, before his contact name is large on her screen as his call awaits her answer. She clicks the green button and puts the phone to her ear, suddenly nervous to hear his voice for the first time.

“Y/n?” His deep, husky tone fills her ears and the truth of his identity begins to genuinely reign true. His voice is none of some old, slimy man. She could see it fitting someone younger, handsome even. Part of her even wants to say he sounds familiar.

She breathes, “Bob?”

There’s a silence that passes between them, a line crossed in the random relationship they’d surprisingly developed. Rustling sounds from Bob’s end, sheets moving before Y/n adds to the commotion, her heels falling to the floor once she pushes them off.

“Are you going to ask me about my family?” He asks, a hint of laughter in his voice.

Y/n giggles, “Tell me about your family, Bob.”

He lets out a small noise of confirmation, “Well, I have two sisters and a brother. A mom and dad. Still married. I don’t know, what do you want to know?”

The two laugh together at his sudden loss of words before Y/n speaks, “Uh, tell me about your parents. Any crazy love stories in the family?”

“No, they got together relatively normal. They’ve been together since they were younger and they’re still in love to this day. They set up a great example for me.”

Y/n rises from her couch, putting Bob on speaker, and moving into her bedroom to get ready for the end of the night. His voice echoes off the walls of the glistening white walls of her bathroom as she asks him more questions about his siblings and relatives. The way he speaks so highly of them makes the pull to him she feels stronger. Something about him seems too good to be true, but she wouldn’t say that out loud. She believes too much in the power of a jinx.

Bob somehow changes the conversation to her, asking her further about her job and her worries. It’s scary how easy it feels to open up to him, things she had a hard time even telling Annie. Maybe it’s the anonymity of him, the elusiveness of the man she truly doesn’t know. However, none of that matters wholly as she lays in bed, eyes trained on the fan above going in circles as she talks about insecurities she’s had since she was a kid.

“It’s hard to know what traits you truly hold, you know? I can be the sweetest to one person, but horribly mean to another. I don’t want people to think I’m armed with ill intent. Sometimes things just don’t come out the way I want.” She whispers, arms sitting heavy over her stomach.

Bob sighs, “It’s scary how much we share in common. I’ve felt that way too many times before. You can never be too careful with your words and it just hits so hard when people don’t understand who you truly are at your core. If they did, they wouldn’t think I was saying something with malice.”

She smiles to herself. It’s as if he lives in her head. ���I don’t think you’d mean anything malicious, Bob.”

He chuckles, “I don’t think you’d mean anything malicious either, Y/n.”

The quietness of her name on his lips brings her closer to sleep and it’s the way he begins to ramble about how much he loves to talk to her that sends her over the edge, a warmness accompanying her body to sleep.

Bob keeps talking for a few minutes before her silence is deafening and he realizes what’s happened. Still, he talks, traumas and all, because something about knowing she’s there makes him not want to hang up.

🏎️

“So, you’ve been talking to this guy for how long?” Annie questions, her eyebrows pulled together just as they always have while she stares bewilderedly at Y/n.

“Three weeks,” She replies, a message from Bob appearing on her screen just as they utter his name.

Annie stares at her, “And you don’t know what he looks like?”

Y/n shakes her head lightly, “No…”

Annie scoffs, “Y/n! That’s so stupid! He could be stalking you for all we know!”

“No! He’s not stalking me, Annie. I think I know him now, really. In the beginning, no, but we call all the time and we talk about anything and everything. He’s sweet and he’s everything I’ve ever been looking for in a guy.” Y/n is quick to defend, her phone in her hands as Bob calls her.

Annie glances down to the ringing phone, “Is that him?”

Her challenging look makes Y/n nod slowly. Annie lurches forward and Y/n yelps just as her best friend yanks the phone out of her hands and answers the call.

“ANNIE!” Y/n yells, grasping for the phone while Annie just moves away.

Bob’s voice meets Annie’s ears, “Y/n?”

“This is Annie, Y/n’s best friend. I’d like to know your address and full name, seeing as my beloved friend has not gotten that information yet.” She demands, eyes glancing toward Y/n as she awaits the man’s answer.

Bob stutters, “Uh, my name is Robert Dancing. I live in Monaco.”

Annie shakes her head, “No, I’m talking address. Like, 12345 Hemingway Street.”

Bob laughs, “Can I just talk to Y/n?” There’s a hint of anxiousness in his voice that sends Annie into a manic spiral.

“No, tell me where you live.” She fires back.

“Annie!” Y/n tries again, grabbing onto Annie’s sweatshirt to pull her closer. When she’s within reach, Y/n reaches for the phone and snatches it back, much to Annie’s dismay.

Y/n apologizes, “Bob, I’m so sorry. Annie’s a little insane.”

He laughs and it lingers around her heart, “It’s okay. Just call me later, yeah?”

She nods and murmurs confirmation before hanging up. She turns to look at her best friend, a rare moment of betrayal. “Why would you do that?” She asks, annoyance radiating off of her.

Annie crosses her arms, “Because, Y/n! You don’t know this man.”

Y/n groans, “Yes, I do! Also, getting to know him by demanding his address seems satisfactory to you?”

“You’re being stupid, Y/n! I’m just looking out for you!” She raises her voice, anger getting in the way of truly getting her point across.

Y/n shakes her head, “Looking out for me would be trusting me when I ask that of you! You just completely went against everything I asked of you! I asked for support, not outraged behavior!”

Annie’s face drops, “You don’t get it! Y/n, you do not know this man! You didn’t even know his last name until I asked for you yet you’ve apparently told him all of your secrets?!”

Y/n begins to pack her purse in a moment of fury, “No, Annie, you don’t get it!”

As she stands at the cusp of the front door, Annie yells back at her, “Stop falling in love with someone you can’t trust!”

Y/n closes the door shut, a huff coming from her lips as she storms down the stairs, tears down her face. To have her best friend question her judgment regarding someone who means so much to her hurts immensely. Though, what hurts worse is knowing she might be right.

—

Max almost looks perplexed when Lando hangs up the phone.

“Robert Dancing? What the hell kind of name is that?” He teases, a patronizing tone.

Lando shakes his head, “I didn’t know what else to say! Dancing was the first thing that came to my head!”

Max crosses his arms over his chest, “Are you ever planning on telling this woman who you really are?”

Lando’s mouth opens and falls closed, at a loss for words, “I don’t know. I want to, but I know she’ll run. I don’t blame her. I’ve lied about fundamental things.” There’s a crease in his forehead as he continues, “I can’t lose her. I’m too addicted to the way she makes me feel.”

Max sighs, “I hate to say it, but you might, Lan. You told her you were a completely different person, betrayed her trust in an insane way. You’ve got something special, that counts for something, but you need to be prepared for the possibility of her never being able to find it in herself to forgive you. I don’t want you to get your hopes up and get hurt.”

“I won’t. I know the risks of what I’ve done, but I can’t take it back now. I just need to find the time to tell her. I will tell her and I’ll do it in a coherent, calm way.” He tries, but the two of them know he’s already gotten his hopes up. Max looks at him with faux confidence, knowing Lando’s found himself with someone it’ll cut deep to let go of.

Lando knows it too, knows the kind of pain that’ll shred through him if she leaves because of his mistake. It’s ironic in the way that a lie, one so unnecessary, is the thing that plagues his mind at night even as Y/n’s voice puts him to sleep.

🏎️

There’s a nagging in Y/n’s brain that pushes her to get out from under the covers of her bed and find her desk in the dark of the night. She sits in the chair with a creak before opening her laptop and the random browser she’s had tabs open in for days on end.

Her fingers however over the keys before typing in a dreaded question of truth.

“Robert Dancing.” She whispers as she presses enter and the screen begins to load. Her stomach churns and her eyes whip away, too scared to look. What would she do if nothing came up? What if Annie was right? What if Bob wasn’t who she thought he was after all?

But, then, his voice calls her back to the safety of her blind trust as it rings throughout her brain. He seems too nice to be what Annie had thought him to be. Bob is who she thinks he is, he has to be.

Her gaze takes one more look at the picture of her and Annie on her nightstand before she turns her head fully to find out her fate.

A blank screen with the haunting words, “Sorry, we couldn’t find what you were looking for.” stares back at her. For a moment, she thinks she must’ve spelled his name wrong and she tries multiple, very clearly wrong, versions of what his name could be in an attempt to console the last of hope dwindling out of her body.

Bob. A name in her mouth that now means nothing takes on what she had originally thought it had been. A fake name.

This can’t be, she thinks. There has to be some logical explanation. But, then again, Robert Dancing is not a typical name, something should come up for a server who lives in Monaco. A link to his social media would’ve shown. He’s young and living in Europe, there would be a trace of him.

Robert Dancing does not exist.

🏎️

Unknown

Y/n, you never called me back. Is everything okay?

Y/n

Everything is fine.

Unknown

Can I call you now?

Y/n

I’m busy.

Unknown

It’s been three days and I haven’t heard from you at all. Seriously, are you okay?

Unknown

Y/n, answer me. What’s going on?

Y/n

Stop messaging me.

Her body jolts in surprise when her phone rings aggressively against the desk at her work. She looks around sheepishly at her staring coworkers before grabbing the loud device and walking outside. The moment the door shuts behind her, she answers.

Bob speaks so quickly, “Y/n, what’s going on?”

She stares at the skyline, trying to find peace in the view, “What’s your name?”

Bob is quiet, “Robert Dancing. You know this.”

“No, I don’t. What’s your name?” She tries again, anger in her voice and sadness deep in her soul.

“Bob.” He states, breaking her heart once more.

Y/n scoffs, “I know that’s not your name. If you don’t start telling me the truth right now, I will hang up and block you.”

A door closes on his side and she hears him take a breath, “Okay, okay. Don’t do that. How’d you find out?”

A dry laugh leaves her mouth, mixed with astonishment, “Do you think I’m stupid?! You gave me what was supposed to be your full name, so I searched you up. Choose a name that actually comes up next time, yeah?”

“Y/n, I’m so sorry. You told me you would never think I meant malice by my actions. That should apply here.” He tries, but she just shakes her head.

“That was back when I thought I knew at least your name. Who ever are you? Do you even live in Monaco? Was any of it true?” She cries, somewhat surprised at the tears that have appeared.

He sounds disappointed, “Yes, it all was. I do live in Monaco and I have three other siblings. My parents are still married. All the things I told you were true, my doubts and insecurities. That wasn’t fake, Y/n.”

She pulls herself together, not ready to break down for a man so cruel, and wipes her tears, “What’s your name?”

“Y/n, I-”

She interrupts, determined, “What’s your name?”

A build up manifests from the silence he lets go on before he answers her dying question, “Lando Norris.”

Part of her was expecting him to say a name she would’ve recognized, but no part of her has any reaction to him. His name is just another one she wished to have been able to connect to another human being.

He takes her silence for realization and his body slumps against the wall behind him. Part of him knows she won’t, but another part worries she’ll take their situation and everything he’s told her to the press.

What she says next completely contradicts everything he built up in his head, “You act like that’s supposed to mean anything to me.”

With that, she hangs up the phone.

—

Annie and Y/n haven’t spoken since their fight a week ago, but the betrayal of it is pushed aside when Annie opens the door to find Y/n crying at her door.

No words are shared, Annie understands, and Y/n is ushered into the home, coaxed by her best friend to sit on the couch.

“What happened?” She whispers, her hand rubbing over Y/n’s back. Annie hates to see her best friend in such brokenness, even in a moment where she could tell her I told you so. That would do no one good, Annie knows that. Y/n doesn’t need to be proven wrong right now, she needs someone to sit with her when no one else seemingly won’t.

A sharp intake of breath and Y/n speaks, “He wasn’t who he said he was. Robert Dancing doesn’t exist. His actual name is Lando Norris. As if that means anything. Why would he lie?”

Annie cocks her head because it doesn’t make sense. Why would he lie? Lying about your life to make it seem more interesting than it was would make sense, but to blatantly lie completely about your identity? That didn’t make sense.

“Have you searched him up? Maybe it’s supposed to mean something?” She tries, genuinely lost at the situation.

Y/n shakes her head, tears falling to her lap as she hangs her head, “If I do and I see him, I don’t want to know. I already like him too much and that makes this hurt more than it should. If I see him, learn who he truly is, I’m scared I’ll never be able to let him go.”

Annie frowns, part of her wants to know about the man that put her friend in such a state. But, it’s not what Y/n needs as she cries on the beige couch. Her head fits in the crook of Annie’s shoulder as the girl turns on mindless TV for her friend.

Still, though, Annie knew she would find herself investigating Lando Norris later when Y/n fell asleep.

—

It’s ironic how similar Y/n and Annie look when they scour the internet for information about a specific man. Annie has a bit of blanket pulled over her lap as Y/n hogs the majority of it, the rise and fall of her chest a telltale sign of needed slumber.

The face of Lando Norris stares back at her as she tries to think of this man calling her best friend at night, asking questions no one has before. He seemed bubbly in the few moments she spoke to him and when she clicks on a video of him in an interview, she knows immediately it's him. His voice is distinct as it speaks through a clear microphone. There were no lies in his second confession to Y/n.

From what she can tell, he’s a beloved member of the Formula One community, a sport she had never truly looked into because she assumed it was overrated. So, did Y/n. The off chance that Lando texted a random person and found something more with them, he lucked out that that someone was clueless when it came to the sport that made him famous.

Her breathing stops when she finds a video that titles Lando’s supposed telling of a woman he’s taken a liking to. The date of the video tells her it’s within the time frame of him and Y/n.

She glances at her sleeping best friend before clicking the link, his smiling face large on her screen.

Lando’s giggle is sweet, “Yeah, I guess you could say I’ve found someone. Or, at least, have a crush. This girl and I are definitely not official, but there’s something there, I think we can both feel it. I’ve never felt so free with someone.”

The reporter, out of view from the watcher, coos, “That’s great, Lando! What’s her name?”

Lando gives the man a warning glance as he states authoritatively, “I won’t be handing that information right now.”

He clutches the microphone and Annie can see the way his body shifts with protectiveness. If anything, this is exactly the kind of way she had always wanted Y/n to be treated. Protected and cherished. From what she could gather, from the deepdive of articles and the stories Y/n had told, Lando did just that.

Her heart aches. A stupid man tried to protect himself whilst falling in love with a woman that never even knew who he was. They were never even given a chance.

Somehow, in a black out of pure sadness for Y/n who had always yearned to be adored in this way, Annie found herself buying a ticket to the next Grand Prix, Silverstone of all places.

With a crappy seat and no plan or guarantee of finding him, Annie knew she had to find Lando. She had to fight for something that wasn’t even hers.

🏎️

The commotion of fans surrounding the entrance to the paddock puts Annie on edge, not to mention the size of the crowd. She thought she got here early, wanting to be at the front so she could try and talk to him, but as she sees the large amount of people between her and the path where the drivers walk, hope diminishes. Still, she pushes through everyone, apologizing when she gets dirty looks. She knows how bad this looks, how much this most likely goes against common courtesy at races such as these. The face of Y/n with bloodshot eyes and a puffy face forces her to persevere, her best friend deserves someone like Lando.

She’s halfway through the crowd when it roars to life, screams emitting as people begin to stick McLaren hats and posters in the air. From the sliver of light she can see through some bodies, Annie watches Lando begin to walk through. He stops to sign for some fans and she pushes more forcefully, knowing this is her only chance.

He moves through it all with grace, but a certain speed that makes her heart pick up. He’s at the front of the crowd, about to step into the paddock and be lost completely to her when she yells, “Lando! It’s Annie!”

It’s the first thing that she can think of, hoping he’ll be reminded of Y/n’s voice when she tried to cover for her best friend’s moment of protection. Annie watches him pause, turn around slowly, as his eyes roam over the sea of people. He locks eyes with her as she waves her arms in the air, something passes between them and he begins running toward her. A connection to the woman he let down, one he hadn’t stopped thinking of in the weeks she had left him.

When he reaches her, Lando is stunned by her presence. “You’re Annie? Like Y/n’s Annie?” He whispers, the people around her screaming for his signature as she nods her head.

“Y/n’s Annie.” He looks to be fighting tears as he ushers a security guard over. “I need you to escort her into the paddock, to my driver’s room.”

The large man nods and Lando walks off, nodding at Annie gratefully. Once he’s gone from the premises, the guard moves the rope keeping people from bombarding the drivers up and lets her through.

The walk to wherever Lando had ordered is quiet as Annie takes in the money that surrounds her. People with Cartier jewelry and Birkens waltz around with an air to them that allows Annie to suddenly understand Lando. This is what he was afraid of. A greedy woman who would take advantage of the status he had and lie to him to get to his money and the money around him. While she understood, however, she still felt angry at his deceiving. Y/n was never given the benefit of the doubt.

The guard knocks on Lando’s door and it swings open, his sunken face coming into view and in the new light, Annie can see the love that Lando had found in her best friend. The effect of her leaving him is seen all over his body and from what she could gather during her time looking into him, he wasn’t doing as well as he usually had during races.

He motions for her to come in and when she does, the door closed, he begins talking, “Did Y/n send you here? Is she here? Can I talk to her? Does she want to see me? Is she forgiving me? Are you-”

Her heart breaks as she interrupts him and his quick anticipation of a reconciliation is crushed, “None of that is true. I’m here on my own terms. Y/n doesn’t know I’m here. At this point in time, she doesn’t want to see you, but I think that’s the shock of finding out about you.. That will wear off eventually. She’s hurt, Lando, but I also know she hates not talking to you. She hasn’t stopped talking about you. And I can’t stand to know that you two found something she’s always deserved, but let it slip away because of fears and betrayals.”

He sits opposite of her, staring at her and trying to find the answers he wants to hear in her eyes. He never does.

Lando rubs his palms over his eyes, “I never even got her last name. There was no way for me to find her.”

“Y/n Y/l/n.”

He lifts his head slowly, “What?”

At the look in his eyes, Annie smiles, “Y/n Y/l/n. That’s her last name. Actually, her full name, I guess.”

A small grin finds its way to Lando’s face and the way he touches his mouth lightly makes her think he hasn’t smiled in a while. “Y/n Y/l/n,” He whispers, smile widening as it all falls from his lips.

He’s even in love with her name, Annie thinks.

“Can you take me to her? I would like to be given the opportunity to fight for her.” He asks hesitantly, as if Annie hasn’t made it abundantly clear that she is here to help.

She nods, “I will tell you where to meet her, but first, I need you to tell me everything from the beginning, from your perspective.”

Lando’s head hangs and he begins, hands wringing together in his lap, “When I first texted her, I thought she was my friend, Daniel.”

“Daniel Ricciardo?” She asks, clarification needed for this story.

Lando’s eyebrows rise, “You know the sport?”

She shakes her head, “No, both Y/n and I never got into it because we didn’t think it was that exciting - sorry - but, I basically learned everything about your life and Formula One when Y/n told me your name.”

He nods and continues, “Well, yes, I thought she was Daniel Ricciardo, we were supposed to be meeting for lunch that day to just catch up before starting the new season. Well, as it turns out, he had changed his phone number over break because it leaked and never told anyone that he wasn’t needing to contact immediately during that time. I assume Y/n must’ve gotten a new number around the time because she got his.”

Annie thinks back before realizing Y/n had shattered her phone in the weeks before and ended up getting an entire new cell phone profile. New number, email, everything. She had said she liked the clean slate.

At her nodding, Lando talks once more, “When she sent me the picture of her, I immediately thought she was one of the most beautiful people I had ever seen in my entire life. That’s cliche, but it’s true. She’s still so beautiful to me. Um,” He shakes his head, tears having pooled in his eyes at the mention of her beauty, “I knew I wanted to keep talking to her, see where it went because I couldn’t just stop talking to her and never knew what could’ve been. So, I made a quick, impulsive decision. I lied about who I was because I just wanted her to treat me normally. I had no idea who she was or her morals, I couldn’t guarantee that she would treat me like everyone else. Obviously, when I learned of who she was and the deep parts of her that no one else got to see, I wanted to change it all. I wanted to tell her so many times who I was and what I wanted with her, what I saw with her, but I knew if I did, I would just lose her. So, I tried to find ways to keep talking to her, but also slowly introduce the truth. Clearly, I never found a way. When you called me, demanding my address and full name I panicked and didn’t think about what would happen if I said what was supposed to be my full name. You’re very scary, you know.” He chuckles, Annie does with him, “So, it all fell from there. She found out Robert Dancing was something entirely fabricated and she called me, telling me to tell her the truth. I was backed into a corner and everything I wanted, I needed, left me. That moment is ingrained in my brain.”

He breathes slowly, his eyes still on his hands, before whispering, “I miss her.”

Annie nods, “I know. So does she. That’s why you need to go to this address,” She hands him a small paper, “Meet her there on Monday at 7 PM, come prepared to tell her all of that and more.”

He clutches the paper like it’s his last lifeline and Annie smiles at how important Y/n is to him.

Lando glances up at her, “What do you mean by more?”

Annie continues to smile lightly, “That you love her. That you need her. That you’re sorry. Lando, remind her of what you two had.”

🏎️

The small apartment complex is daunting to Lando as he stands in front of it. Annie never told him where he was going or what he would be met with, but considering he’s here to see Y/n, he can only assume the building he stares at is her home. His anxiety only spikes. He does not want to mess up again. He doesn’t want to taint her home with even more pain, he thinks to himself, images of himself groveling and begging for her forgiveness flashing in his mind’s eye.

Nonetheless, he knows if he backs out, Annie would find his address this time and physically harm him.

So, the boy walks to the gate and rings her neighbor, following Annie’s instructions closely. He remembered how she told him if he rang Y/n, she wouldn’t let him in, being stubborn and all. Though, if he rang the neighbor, an older woman Annie called Lo, he had a chance.

“Hello? I’m here to see Y/n.” He said into the rusty speaker, a questionable smell infiltrating his nose.

A crackling sound emits from it before Lo is speaking back to him, “Are you Robert Dancing? Annie told me you would be coming.”

Lando laughs at the name, his random ideas being the reason for it, and murmurs a yes to her. She doesn’t say anything back, just a loud buzzing noise that tells him the door is unlocked.

When he walks through, part of him groans at the lack of an elevator. For an athlete, the man is lazy.

Thus, he begins his scale to the top floor, cursing himself for falling in love with someone who lives so high up.

He’s almost completely lost to his thoughts that he doesn’t realize Y/n’s door stands in his way once his feet hit the doormat. It dawns on him the time has come to meet her in person, having never before. It should be studied, he thinks, how he’s fallen in love with her without ever truly seeing her.

He knocks on the door, not wasting time before he truly aborts whatever mission he’s found himself on. And his heart soars when he hears her yell, “Coming!”

He’s only ever heard it over the phone. To hear it feet away from him is almost as exciting as the idea of her forgiving him.

The door unlocks and pulls open, revealing Y/n in a matching set of pajamas that he remembers her texting him about, asking if they were a stupid purchase or not. He told her to get them, she told him probably not, that she was poor, but she still had.

Her eyes land on him and he’s ready for whatever screaming he’s about to endure, but she just smiles at him.

“Hi! Can I help you with anything?” She acts as if she doesn’t recognize him and Lando realizes she doesn’t. Annie had mentioned something about Y/n becoming disinterested in seeing who he truly was, out of fear of becoming too attached. His mind must’ve not genuinely absorbed that information because he only understands it now.

She doesn’t know who he is.

He could do the same thing he had before, lie and tell her he’s someone else. Take the safer option and secure her love, but he takes a breath instead and remembers all Annie had told him. He’d already put her through so much, to do it again would be cruel.

“Y/n, I’m Lando.” He says while he watches her face fall.

Her hands fly to the door, about to slam it on his face, but he sticks his foot in right before she can. The impact hurts, but he continues with what he had practiced so many times on the way here.

“Please, Y/n, just hear me out.” He pleads as her cheeks fill with red. He’s almost sure it isn’t a blush.

“How’d you even get my address?” She says, astonished at who stands before her. Her eyes fall over his body, trying to understand the information. Who he is, what he wants.

“Annie.” He whispers, knowing her confusion will only heighten more.

Her mouth falls open and she yells, “ANNIE?!”

What he believes to be Lo, pops out from her behind her door at the yelling and Lando lowers his head.

“Can I come in? We shouldn’t have this conversation in the hallway of your complex.” He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, hoping she’ll agree. When she does, opening the door for him slowly, he flies forward. While he was ecstatic to be given another chance, he still fears for his image and what would be speculated about a seemingly heated conversation between him and another woman.

She guides him to the couch and they sit down. A familiar creak sounds that reminds him of the ones he would hear when they got into deep conversation during their nighttime calls. The image of her on the phone with him, concentration on her face as she listened to whatever he was revealing and getting comfortable on her sofa, makes him smile softly.

“Bo- I mean, Lando, you need to start talking. I don’t have all the time in the world to listen.” She gives, her tone ice cold. However, the break in it when she realizes she’s said his former, fake name makes the anger he felt over his lies further. He wants her to say his name, the real one. He wants her to say it with love and excitement, not distance. He wants her and his name on her lips.

“I never meant to hurt you. Actually, what I did was in an attempt to shield myself from any kind of bad faith. I didn’t expect to develop what he did. I didn’t even expect to open up to you in the way I did. I thought I could make a friend, one who didn’t know who I was and didn’t have any kind of bias toward me. I’ve always wanted that with someone, especially a partner. I saw an opportunity and I took it, not thinking through it all and I hurt you in the process. I’m so sorry, Y/n. From the moment we started truly talking, calling and all, I knew I had messed up, but I never found a way to tell you. Well, a way to tell you that wouldn’t result in you getting rid of me. I wish I could take it all back, but not you. Not what I got to experience with you, what I felt with you. You’re my favorite memory and you’ll never understand how grateful I am for you. You helped me through bad races even when you didn’t know, helped me through weird press interactions when you didn’t know. I loved that. I loved how at peace you made me feel. I can’t let this go without knowing I gave it everything I have and when Annie showed up at Silverstone, telling me I had to fight for you, I took whatever she had to give.”

Y/n stares at him, trying to digest it all, and murmurs, “Annie went to Silverstone?”

He chuckles lightly, “Yes, she came and she told me who she was, what she was doing there. She told me she knew what we had and she didn’t want you to lose something you’ve always deserved. She gave me this address and told me to come here at this time, told me to buzz Lo instead of you so I could come in. She told me I needed to remind you of what we had.”

Y/n goes red again, blushing this time. She smiles at the idea of Annie going to great lengths just to make her happy, “Annie sounds determined.”

Lando smiles along with her, “She was. She told me if I didn’t fight for you, she’d find me and kill me. She’s really scary, Y/n.”

Their eyes meet and Y/n is reminded of what once was, the way he made her feel. She misses him and knowing the intricate shade of brown in his eyes doesn’t help how much she wants to shut him out.

“I understand why you did what you did, but that doesn’t make it any better. You could’ve given up everything you were saying at any point in time and you didn’t. You only told me when I confronted you with it.” She whispers, disappointment evident in her voice. She plays with her fingers and Lando is close to taking them in his hand.

He nods, “I get that. But, I was scared to tell you because I was just so in love with you. I still am.”

Her eyes snap to his and a moment passes before she asks, “Still am? You love me?”

His cheeks turn cherry tomato, “Yes, of course, I am. The moment I realized you were safe enough to open up to, knowing my identity or not, I was in love with you.”

She groans and lets her face fall to her palms, “But, I’m in love with you too.”

He laughs and shakes his head, “Why is that a bad thing?”

Her eyes peek from over her hands, “Because I want to hate you.”

Finally, his fingers lace with hers as he brings them away from her face, “But, you love me. Isn’t that enough?”

She knows it is. He knows it is. Annie knows it is, even if she isn’t there. It’s a matter of if Y/n can put aside the grand web of lies he put together to let them have their shot at something that could be wonderful. In the warmth of his presence, she thinks she can.

🏎️

Y/n

Can you stop blowing up my phone

Bob <3

Why????? I’m bored baby

Y/n

im at work girly

Bob <3

girly 🤭🫶🏻🤗 plz go out to the balcony and answer me

Y/n

I think you might be obsessed with me

Bob <3

i made an alter ego so i could talk to you didn’t i?

Y/n

girl

She picks up his call as she closes the door behind her, the new office building she’s in allowing for a wider view of London. The new team she works with is less competitive than the last and their support is proving beneficial with the news she got today.

“My beloved girlfriend, are you free for lunch today?” Lando giggles into the speaker like the lovesick man he is. Y/n can hear Oscar make fun of him in the background.

She smiles, “I thought you were bored?”

“Yes, so now I’m asking if you want to have lunch with me” He answers as if it’s obvious. In the months after the soft moment shared between Lando and Y/n on her old couch, they’ve found something more than love between them. Lando says it’s destiny and Y/n says it’s a soulmate tie, but they agree that the love they once shared over the phone only grew once in person.

Y/n chuckles at his antics, “Sure, I will have lunch with you, Lan. Can you come pick me up though? I don’t want to drive.”

Lando makes a noise, “What did you think I was going to do? Make you drive yourself? No way. There’s one person in this relationship that drives cars professionally and it’s not you, sweetheart. Sorry to break it to you.”

Oliver, her coworker, comes to the door, asking for her assistance on something with a smile. She tells him she’ll be a minute and he nods, retreating back into the office quietly, “Sorry, my love. I need to go. But, you’ll be here when?”

Lando hums, “An hour?”

“Perfect! Oh, and, Lando?” She asks, her voice filled with joy as he responds, “You’ll have to come to the Junior VP’s office to pick me up.”

Silence is met with her sentence before Lando whispers, “Either I’m stupid and you have some big project I forgot about or you’re trying to tell me something that will actually make me lose my mind and sanity right now.”

She laughs loudly, “I got Junior VP, Lan. Youngest one yet.”

He shrieks, momentarily making Y/n go deaf, before screaming to everyone around him about his girlfriend’s achievement, “I’m so proud of you, baby! Oh my god! I’m so happy! We need to buy champagne! You can have your own podium moment! Holy shit, I’m so proud!”

“I would love that, Lan. Thank you. I love you.” She whispers the last part softly, three words that mean so much.

He’ll never get tired of hearing her speak of her love for him, “I love you too, Y/n.”

She’d never get tired of saying it.

[matsunoluvr]

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ love and deepspace men and their random habits

warnings: none!!

characters: rayafel, xavier, zayne, sylus

link to master list here!

author’s note: feeling like a short and sweet one today, sometimes writing more than i want can take the fun out of writing so i’ll stick true to myself this time 🗣️

more below the cut! ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

he like, drums his fingers a lot. you know like that rhythmic tapping on desks?

rafayel enjoys moving around his fingers and stimulating his brain in little ways whilst he’s waiting for some paint to dry to paint another layer or when waiting for you to finish an activity.

he also picks at things, paint on the wall or at scabs (bad habit, you tell him but he never stops) - he complains and says it doesn’t hurt when you bandage it up

rafayel hates growing out his fingernails but he doesn’t bite them, he tends to pick them until they peel shorter then clip them neat with nail clippers

how to combat both his picking habit and nail peeling at the same time? slap on some nail polish, he gets to peel to his hearts content and look amazing at the same time!

“Cutie, come here. I peeled off all my nail polish, can you redo it?”

i feel like in game xavier already blinks quite a lot more than all the LIs, but i can see him also doing those like, long hard reset blinks

he’ll blink loads at once then do this longer blink and then be fine, i can just see him doing this

maybe it’s because his hair looks like it’d get in and irritate his eyes lolol

when you and him get plushies he keeps the ones he keeps on his bed, i feel like he’s usually minimalistic when designing his house but his bed??

it’s like a plushie fortress, when you visit you could literally drown in them

“I like sleep, and I like you. It’s the best of both worlds, want to join me?”

zayne is the type of person to ACTUALLY rub his temples, like what person actually does that? zayne of course.

he also subconsciously clicks pens a lot, not loud and at a high frequency - but if you pay attention to his hands you’ll notice he gently clicks and then un-clicks the pen when in deep thought

he definitely does this more when he’s stressed, the feeling of the pen popping out against his thumb is therapeutic

zayne keeps around fake plants and a watering can because he somehow found a sick sense of amusement watching you water them every time you came to his office.

“Why am I smiling? No reason.”

he genuinely rubs his hands together and it makes sylus look like a fly, he just looks so sinister and mischievous when he does it

if you ask him why he rubs his hands together he just shrugs his shoulders

“Just habit, sweetheart.”

really it’s because he has sweaty palms LMAOO and he’s an old man, of course he’s gonna do old man things

i feel like sylus likes to chew on things, imagine one time you catch him clenching his jaw and decide to give him some gum

it’s not like he doesn’t know what gum is he just never really though about buying some

after that you find stacks of gum in his draws and he’s always chewing a piece, the only thing he dislikes is discarding gum.

AN; silly silly men doing silly silly things, i didn’t think too much about these just slurred random ideas and wrote them down LMAO

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Neil.

I know you are flooded with asks and this somehow became extremely long. Too long. “Why am I suddenly telling this poor man my life story?” too long. “I think I’d rather he work on the GO3 script than read this wild beast” too long. “He’s going to think you’re criminally dangerously insane” too long. If you never get to it, I’m good with never seeing a response from you. Maybe it’s better that way? Maybe an anon would have been nice here. But, it’s 2024, so I say “we ball.” It’s a privilege to be able to send this to you at all. You get a lot to this effect and I hope they give you good feels, so maybe what’s the harm, yeah? Because this is not an ask. This is a thank you letter.

First, thanks for reblogging my therapist post, I hope it amused you. I nearly sent you “How am i supposed to explain this to my therapist?!” But refrained. At that time.

So, therapy. What is therapy really? Well…

Things have been really rotten for as long as I can remember. Bad health, bad doctors, bad relationships, bad coping mechanisms, bad all kinds of things. (Yeah, bad is a weak and unhelpful word, my therapist reminds me, but we’re doing this.)

Well, things got even more really really rotten and BAD these last few years. Health declined further, coping mechanisms declined further and more intensely, packed up my life, applied for disability, moved back in with my parents across the country.

Then 4 years ago last week I watched my fiance die of a sudden heart attack. I was 29. Two years later my best friend died. Then last summer I sauntered vaguely into a cancer scare. Not long before an operation my cat who has been my companion through so much garbage died as well. I’m not entirely in the clear on the cancer scare front. All my attempts at going back to work, volunteering, going to grad school - they collapsed on me because I couldn’t get through this STUFF.

(Sometimes when I talk about this, when I tell people, I think “they are going to think you are a raging pathological liar.” Because I’m not sure I would believe someone if they told me all of this happened to them. In such a short time period. All before they were 35. And hell if that hasn’t been isolating. You know how it sounds? Lonely. And it is.)

I did the hypervigilant and sensation/experience chasing stage of PTSD. It got me in a lot of trouble in all kinds of ways. I had to do a lot of medical and psych advocating because things kept getting worse. That was exhausting. Then that peaked. I went into the thick of the “I feel absolutely nothing” stage for a long time. I didn’t feel fatigue or hunger or thirst. Not people, feelings, a reason. Not hope.

But of course, like seems be for a lot of us, I somehow found Good Omens at just the right time. I was a very “I’m so cool and intellectual I mostly consume non-fiction media” person for too long. Like, what? How is that even a real thing? And it wasn’t real. It was just part of this curated autism mask that I don’t think anyone really bought anyway.

I think I got to a point where I’d just had too much reality. I needed fantasy. I didn’t realize I always needed it. But I denied myself for too many odd and painful reasons. Maybe I thought it was an escape I didn’t deserve.

But as it turns out, it wasn’t an escape. I watched both seasons last fall, and then this light came on. I watched it again and again.

I came to tumblr because I needed more. I found this fandom. I stepped into this beautiful world of fanart and fanfiction and brain flexing meta writing and a sense of community and wonder that you and Terry created - that everyone involved in the show inflated - exploded in the right way - like fireworks if fireworks were some kind of autocatalytic reaction - a self perpetuating force.

It’s not a “saved my life” feeling. Not a “getting my life back” feeling. It’s been a “maybe it’s time for you to have the life you’ve always been denied - that you’ve denied yourself” feeling.

I’m creating. I’m not “great” yet. Not terribly “good” at all. Maybe “behind” as far as the “proper” timeline for starting. I know there isn’t one, not really, but boy does that society machine make ya feel like there is. And sure, I started and stopped a lot in the past. But the second it got hard I always gave up. I felt like if I didn’t get it “right” to begin with, then I just didn’t have it in me at all. But for once I’m really in it. I’m writing and trying to draw things that look less like fever dream five year old drawings. (Not that there’s anything wrong with those, is there? 🙃) I’m eating better. I’m sleeping better. I reach out to old friends more. I’ve made new friends who share this love of Good Omens.

My therapist has been floored by the change in me. After that first funny mini flop, he has been so encouraging about it. I saw him this week and I said “Maybe this is helping me get prepared to start living again. Maybe it’s a springboard.” And he honest to god said “But You ARE living. This is YOU LIVING. Why does it have to be a springboard? Why do you have to turn this into ‘work?’ Just let yourself have this for once in your life.”

But there were two more added elements that made it all work. And I can’t help but think this whole brainrot thing wouldn’t have happened without them. So many things just happened all at just the right time - a proper coincidence.

In all of the madness of the last few years I finally got the memo that I'm autistic. i figured I was for a while. But it finally sunk in for me and my docs and my people. So I’d been working on unpacking that. Grieving the life that could have been entirely different, shedding the mask. I let myself hyperfixate openly instead of hiding it and hating myself for “spiralling” or “obsessing” like others -!like ‘I’ always punished myself for before we knew that it was a trait and not a personality flaw.

Then over the last few months my therapist and I started trying this new exercise. One session he stopped me and said “in the last 20 minutes you have responded to what I’ve said with 9 ‘I knows.’” My response to that? “Ugh, I know.” So we started this “I know” swear jar type situation. Really, I’ve been afraid of not knowing. I couldn’t let myself “not know.” Because it meant I was “dumb.” I was just drowning for so long in guilt and self loathing for the “I knew better and screwed up anyway.” Or “I should’ve known better - I should know that by now.”

As it turns out, there’s a lot of things I don’t know. That I didn’t know. Things I will never know. And refusing to admit all of that kept me from learning a damn thing. Kept me from asking questions. Kept me from trying new things because it was scary to do something new - something unknown - and I "knew" how it would all turn out anyway. Kept me from connecting with people because it was painful or embarrassing when they knew things I didn’t and it seemed like I already should have. Kept me from getting better at making art, music, writing. Kept me from forgiving myself. Kept me from growing. And kept me from moving forward. Maybe not on. I don’t know if we ever “move on” from things. But we can move forward as we carry them. And as we do, the weight gets less. We’re able to carry it better. But only if we can admit that we don’t know how. Only if we don’t treat ourselves like this is something we do know or should know and we’re just failing because we’re less than. Not good enough. Not strong enough. Not deserving. We have to be able to say “I don’t know how to do this.” And then we can start looking for the answers. We can ask. We can learn.

I thought about the apple. Being able to tell the difference between good and evil. Aziraphale’s years and years of watching what he “knows” to be true be proven wrong. Crowley’s need to ask questions…

The simple and enormous gift of “Knowledge.” The “Knowledge” of the difference between Good and Evil. The “Knowledge” that can only be gained by realizing, accepting, admitting that there are things we don’t know. Asking the questions. Sometimes we get answers we don’t like. Sometimes the consequences of asking hurt us. And unless you want to stay in that painful place that painful knowledge got you, well, you’ve got to let yourself learn how to get out.

So all of this good? I never expected this. I never thought I deserved it. Joy and belonging and this sense that “Yeah, maybe things can get better. Maybe things can be good.” Because I said those things, not truly believing them, to the people I thought needed to hear it. But it couldn’t save them. It was hollow. The proof for us wasn’t really in our orbit or on our radar at the time. And now they’re gone.

People always say “it’s never too late.”

One of the people I lost said “it’s later than you think.”

I jokingly would respond “it’s already too late.”

It was for him in the end. For them. For some people I guess it really is. But maybe a lot of the “too late” people are there because they think “they know” that things will never be good for them. So they stop looking, they stop asking, stop finding. And eventually they just stop.

Then there came Crowley’s “It’s always too late.” The first time I heard it I thought “For sure, Crowley-cakes, I KNOW.”

But then…I just needed to rewatch the whole thing. And lines like that…familiar things…familiar themes…I was suddenly identifying with these characters. I suddenly saw myself. And the realization hit - I connected with something! Something new. And I FELT THAT. And that tiny little crack that made in the wall was just enough to start breaking it down. Yeah, when you start letting yourself feel after not feeling for so long, opening up to the good feelings means opening up to feelings and then the bad ones come out too. But when there IS good … it helps you balance. You can deal with the bad a little better because you’ve got the good thing to lean against when it gets too much. And now you’ve got feelings. You’ve got good and bad. You’ve got sticky foggy grey. You’ve got life.

Whew.

So, TLDR, thank you. From the bottom of my slowly healing heart, thank you.

And to sign off with some shits and giggles… I couldn’t find this in existence as a sticker so I had to custom order. Perhaps this will spread misery and panic among the humans of my city - or at least a malignant and creepy sense of unease.

Or maybe they’ll say “wtf” and go home and google it and they’ll fall into the Good Omens hole they never knew they needed too.

Thank you for this. I never quite know what to say to messages like this apart from I am really glad that it helps. (It becomes the weird extra piece that I worry about when writing season 3 -- hoping that it will be that thing again. Not just a story, but something that helps people feel and helps with healing and helps with love.)

[pedriscroquettes]

𝐁𝐘𝐀𝐊 ✮ FLORIAN WIRTZ

summary. it’s kind of pathetic the way the two of you always come crawling back to each other.

warnings. emotional warfare. florian is down bad. light smut but heavy feelings. florian is lowkey pathetic in this. 18+

gabri speaks! unfortunately i am a florian girlie. anyways i’m back! heavily inspired by byak by alvaro diaz ft. rauw alejandro.

THE CROWD GROANS as florian hits the crossbar for the second time that night. the camera man makes sure to zoom in on him as his hands go up in frustration. florian stares at the goalkeeper in disbelief as he runs back into his position. another missed chance, another bad rating, another night of him stressing himself out. if there was one person in all of germany that night happy about his performance it was you.

your relationship with the player was controversial, what was once a promising relationship had turned sour, and quickly. the two of you had mutually decided that a committed relationship wasn’t in the cards for either of you. it had grown toxic to the point where you’d flirt with his teammates on purpose to provoke him which worked because you’d always end up in his bed and never in a foreign room. in fact you couldn’t quite remember when was the last time you had hooked up with anyone else.

meanwhile the brunette found himself staring at his phone on the ride home. chatter and music filled the team bus yet only one thing clouded his mind, did you watch the match? he was hoping a teasing message of yours would already be in his notifications, and when he saw there’s wasn’t one he sighed. as his teammates argued over their errors and mistakes he couldn’t help opening the messages between the two of you. the countless deleted messages and hidden pictures as well as the timed ones made him remember the many nights the two of you would spend on the phone.

the sound of your voice filled his head and when he saw you were online he immediately turned off his phone. was it possible you had finally gotten tired of your messed up relationship?

“bro, are you okay?” kai asked seeing the state his teammate was in. florian’s leg was bouncing and his demeanor had changed dramatically.

“i’m fine, thanks.” he offered him a curt smile before staring out the window again.

he wasn’t fine, he was far from fine, in fact he felt worse than he did after missing the goal. he’s not sure why but as soon as the team arrives back to the hotel he’s on his way to your flat. he makes a quick stop at the chinese place the two of you like beforehand making sure he doesn’t show up empty handed. it was already pathetic enough that he was showing up past midnight he could at least make up an excuse with the food.

he hopes the black hoodie he wore is enough to hide his identity from bystanders. although with all the pacing he does outside your hallway he hopes no one thinks he’s a robber. as he adjusts his hoodie he can’t help but think, why am i so nervous? after all it’s not the first time he knocks on your door at these hours.

“do you hate me?” is the first thing you hear as you open the door.

you study his frame and notice his disheveled hair and the training kit from the national team. you’ve never seen him so disorganized and upset — if that was the right word to use — you were amused. as his face grows concerned with your lack of answer you notice the takeout he has in his hands. the poor guy was either desperate or he had lost his mind. both of which could be true.

“what the fuck florian?” you look at him weird as you question him.

“you didn’t text me today.” he says as if that simple sentence answered your question.

“so what? i don’t text you every other week and you never show up at my apartment with food. what’s going on?” you’re even more confused than before.

“you always text me after a game.” he tries to explain like it’s the most logical thing ever.

you can’t help the half scoff and half laugh you let out. he couldn’t be serious right now. was he seriously at your apartment past midnight because he was freaking out over a message?

“okay seriously you need to get a girlfriend you’re starting to creep me out.” you joke.

“you say that while you’re wearing my jersey.” he l doesn’t even need you to turn around to know that you were wearing the leverkusen jersey he had gifted you months ago.

there’s a moment of silence between the two of you it’s entrancing. you stare at him and realize he’d made his way over to you immediately after the game. all because he was waiting for your message. meanwhile there’s something about you wearing his jersey for casually that makes you all more enchanting to him. there’s a mutual look between the two of you and in the blink of an eye his hands are on your waist, yours on his jaw, and his lips are on yours.

it’s poetic really the way he closes your door as he pushes you into your apartment and drops the takeout on your coffee table in the process. your hands already digging into his hair and his hold you tight as he carried you into your room. it’s all muscle memory. the darkness of your bedroom adds to the feeling of having him so close to you again.

“i think i-” he pauses not wanting to be so vulnerable in this predicament but you know what he wants to say. you freeze.

“florian you know i can’t. it didn’t work out the first time. i can’t do it again.” you grab his jaw making sure the two of you are making eye contact. his brown eyes captivate yours.

“i can’t either but i can’t live without you.” he whispers the end. “it will always be you.”

you drag his hand towards the waistband of your shorts. it would always be him too. the only person that consumed your every thoughts and the only person you were worried about getting hurt was him. always. you look into his eyes as he drags his fingers to your core and sigh as he begins to tease you. he’s also the only man you fantasize about.

“promise?” you ask him.

the moonlight barely allows you to see him fully but you catch the smirk on his face. the same one that had captivated you years ago at the bar. his fingers are so close to your needy hole. you can’t help but audibly gasp as he inserts them inside you causing an illicit groan from him. your nails dig into his shoulders as he starts fucking you with his digits. meanwhile he kisses you from your collarbone to your neck.

“i promise.” he whispers against your ear.

he pumps his fingers in and out of you slowly helping you reach your high. it was only fair you were treated right. it was small details like this that had you wondering why the two of you couldn’t just commit to each other. you’re distracted as he leaves marks on your neck and his fingers curve inside you. you can’t help the loud moans that leave your mouth as you reach your high. your hands dig into the sheets as you come around his fingers.

he continues kissing you as he begins to take his hoodie off. you’re quick to stop him before he begins undressing himself.

“do i need to remind you that you didn’t score today? you’re not getting any tonight.” you adjust your shorts.

“so you did watch the game then.” he wraps his arms around you pulling you closer to him.

“i always do.” you whisper as you cuddle into him.

that’s how you spend the rest of the night, snuggled into his body as it rains outside. it’s quite an intimate moment shared between the two of you. you’re not quite sure if you should be worried or content with the turn your relationship with florian took. you decide it’s rather late and with the way he holds you you don’t think much more. after all he promised and while you knew florian was many things he was not an oath breaker.

[yuki-world]

那维莱特 | NEUVILLETTE ; TEACH

summary | you're just so sexually inexperienced, surely neuvillette, someone who has lived for millenniums, could teach you a thing or two about pleasuring someone?

tags | nsfw (smut), fem!reader, slight corruption, first-time blowjob, throat bulge, face-fucking, cum swallowing, praise kink, mentions of virginity, 1.9k words

a/n : you have no idea how down bad i am. pt 2 here —> learn

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

neuvillette is not amused.

he’s always open to sharing his knowledge with others; in fact, he has been teaching you a plethora of things, more than you could’ve imagined. you admired neuvillette, he knew that very well. experience was definitely something he didn’t lack.

but some things… aren’t meant to be shared, especially not whatever you were asking for.

“its not that big of a deal,” you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “you said you would teach me anything.”

“please, it's unwise to joke about things like that,” neuvillette says. he looks at you for any hints of a smile, a giggle, anything to indicate that you were joking. he sees nothingー just you with your head slightly tilted, waiting patiently for his answer. quite cute, he must admit.

look, he understands that you are a curious person; you’re always up for expanding your knowledge. but isn’t this… a little too much? asking him to teach you how to give a blowjob? it's not like he didn’t have experience with… that. but this topic wasn’t exactly what he had in mind when he said you could ask him anything.

but neuvillette has a soft spot for you; he’s come to grow fond of you. what started from him finding it annoying how you pester him on the daily, to him looking forward to seeing you as an escape from his work. you’re like a breath of fresh air. he has no obligation to, but he feels like it's his job to guide and protect you.

the room fills with silence, and you attempt to draw an answer out of him again. he’ll probably give in, you think. after all, he does have a soft spot for you. “oh, but i’m not joking,” you rebutted. “why won’t you teach me?” you try again, hoping your question would be answered.

its silent yet again, the lack of response making you click your tongue. its hard to figure out how he’s feeling, because the look on his face tells you nothing. that’s when you thought you could tease him a little to get a reaction out of him, if that would even work.

“how disappointing. i suppose i’ll just have to ask someone else, maybe wriothesley? i’m sure he’ll be happy to teach me.”

the mention of another man’s name has his attention back onto you immediately. sure, he’s hesitant on teaching you about pleasuring someone. but no way is he going to let you ask someone else about this; he won’t allow it. won’t even consider it. the image of you sucking another man off has him furrowing his eyebrows.

“what do you think? or maybe i should askー”

“i think that’s enough, y/n.”

at this point, you think you might’ve actually made him angry. he’s never sounded this strict with you before, it almost sounds like he’s about to give you a whole lecture on why you shouldn’t be asking for these types of things. but he doesn’t.

it’s such a dirty act, it feels terribly wrong, but he simply couldn’t deprive you of such knowledge. if something like this piques your curiosity, then he will go along with it to satisfy you.

neuvillette clears his throat, composing himself. “i will only teach you onceー once and we won’t speak about this again. does that sound alright?”

he sees your face light up in an instant, nodding eagerly. “thank you, neuvillette! i will be forever grateful!” you exclaim, and he feels his cock twitch in his pants. fuck, he thinks. you’re going to be the death of him.

“kneel for me,” he asks of you, and you lower yourself obediently. you’re directly facing his crotch, and embarrassment creeps onto you. you shy away from the image in front of you, nervously playing with your fingers. your face is flushed red no matter how hard you try to hide it.

he notices immediately, hand reaching to stroke your hair, intending to provide some sort of comfort and reassurance. “are you nervous?” he questions, and you nod slowly.

“oh, love. don’t be nervous. i’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

your heart jumps at the pet name, eyes widening. that felt way too good to hear. you don’t ask if he called you that by mistake, partially because you were too eager to proceed, but also because you didn’t want him to correct himselfー if it was even a mistake at all. “please do, neuvillette,” you urge.

he finally releases his cock from the confines of his pants, hard and erect as it lightly slaps your cheek when he pulls it out.

you almost start drooling at his length. it was so large, so long, so thick. you haven’t even put it in your mouth and you’re already starting to think about how it would feel inside you. the pink tip leaks pearly drops of pre-cum. your hands reach up to his cock immediately, and he hisses.

“eager now, are we?” he teases, while you’re still in awe over his impressive size. he silently chuckles at how you admire his length, almost like you just found treasure. “have you ever seen a cock, y/n?”

you’ve… seen a few. not in real life though, and definitely none similar to his size. it's different, in a good way, seeing it up-close. it’s even more special because it's neuvillette. “not in real lifeー not like this, no.”

“i see,” he says, exhaling as he pulls your hand off, giving himself a couple of pumps. were you really that pure? it makes him so hard.

“are you ready? listen very carefully, yes?” he guides his cock onto your lips, tapping a few times. “take it in slowly, and ensure your teeth don’t touch,” he tells you.

he taps his cock on your lips again, and you open your mouth again without any hesitation. he guides his cock into your mouth inch by inch, and you taste his pre-cum on your tongue immediately. a tad bit salty, but you can take it.

“y/nー oh…” he sighs in pleasure as he feels your mouth wrap around his cock-head. he was in heavenー your mouth was so warm and wet, he could barely control himself from fucking into your face. he should be the one composed, he should be the one staying calm, he’s the one teaching you for fuck’s sake; yet he’s the one struggling as you start taking his cock further into your mouth.

“just like that, a little moreー mmh… thats it,” his breath hitches when he feels the tip hit the back of your throat. he was so deep in, but he wanted to just thrust it in further. you took it so well, he thinks. not even gagging like he expected you to, and no teeth just like he told you to. how obedient.

you adjusted your mouth on his cock as your drool started dripping down onto your lap. your hand reaches up to stroke what you couldn’t take in, and it elicits a gasp from him. he doesn’t instruct you to, but you start moving on your own as if you’ve done it before.

you drench his cock with your saliva as you suck him off, your hands holding his thighs for support.

“such a good girl, y/n. you take my cock so wellー don’t even need to teach you,” he praises and you hum around him as a form of thanks. you take that as motivation as you suck faster, occasionally swirling your tongue on the tip. you tongue his slit, licking up every drop of pre-cum that leaks.

he throws his head back when you take him particularly deep in your throat, and he almost couldn’t take it anymore. he stops you, pulling you off his cock. copious amounts of saliva drip out, a string of saliva connecting his cock to your mouth.

this was a sight he could only ever see in his dreams. your lips swollen, cheeks flushed red, your eyes tearyー god, he loves you, he really loves you. he thinks you look absolutely beautiful even with your face covered in your own spit. this does it for him.

“stay put, and let me fuck your face, alright? can you handle it, love?” there it was again, calling you ‘love’. you’re smitten, you’d do anything after hearing him call you that. “iー i can handle it.”

neuvillette smiles, wiping off some of the drool on your face before he slides his cock inside your mouth again. “as expected of my good girl.”

his hands hold the sides of your head for stability, slowly thrusting into your mouth to test the waters. when he’s sure you’re okay, he starts fucking into your face, making sure you feel every inch of his cock down your throat.

he can’t stopー he’s addicted. truth be told, he’s been deprived of sexual pleasure for so long, it felt like heaven. you took him so deep with no complaints, you deserve so much more for being so good to him. he can’t stop thrusting into your mouthー it feels like he was fucking a pussy.

and then thoughts of fucking you invade his mind. if you’ve never given a blowjob before, surely that would mean you’ve never had sex, which makes you a virgin. fuck, he wants to take you so bad. you’d be so tight, so warm, so sweet. would you like to know about sex too, then? would you let him take you?

he’s brought back to reality as your hand grips his thighs, signaling for him to stop. he thinks he might’ve hurt you, but you continue to your administrations. he’s so close, he feels his climax approaching, but he needs slightly more.

“give me your hand,” he requests, and you raise your hand up. he takes it gently, guiding it his balls as he squeezes them. “yeahー ah, keep doing that.”

what a fast learner you are. you massage his balls as you continuing to deep-throat him. the grip on your hair was getting tighter, louder groans coming out from him. “you’re going to make me cum, love. god, i’m so close.”

he breaks when you take him in so deep, he sees a bulge in your throat. it was his last straw. “ohー fuuuck…” he thrusts into you as he blows his load straight down your throat. you didn’t even have time to taste him or even react, widening your eyes as he throws his head back.

he pants, pulling his cock out slightly till only the tip was left in your mouth, pumping out weak spurts of cum. you swallowed it all, even going so far as to licking him clean of any remnants of cum.

neuvillette is a mess. you’re a mess. he’s so far gone, he still feels the effects of his climax. he pulls you off his cock, helping you up before tucking himself back in his pants.

“are you alright, y/n? are you hurt? my apologies, i should have asked for your permission,” he caresses your cheek, referring to how he came in your mouth. you shook your head. “it’s fineー i… liked it.”

“oh? how naughty,” he scolds, smoothing your messy hair down from how he gripped it earlier. “so, was this a helpful lesson, y/n? do you know nowー how to pleasure someone?”

you nodded. “really insightful. thank you, neuvillette. but…”

“but?”

“maybe... you can teach me what an orgasm feels like next?”

“i see. i will gladly indulge.”

ー @yuki-world

[cheshirebitch]

ℕ𝕠𝕥 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕆𝕡𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕤

(Alastor x Angel Dust’s Sister! Reader) pt. 1

It really has been a long time, huh?

( next )

“Listen guys, I got my dad involved and that helped a lot but…” Charlie rubbed the back of her neck while rolling her head to look at Vaggie, silently asking for help.

“What Charlie is trying to say is that if you guys have other strings you can pull, now is the time to pull them.” Vaggie wrapped her arm behind Charlie to show some support. It was desperately needed after Charlie still hasn’t completely recovered from Vaggie’s angel secret. Angel Dust crossed his arms, practically wrapping himself in them like a protective blanket. Husk took note and so did Alastor, both watching with two different reactions but the same understanding. Angel Dust had a string he didn’t want to pull. Alastor eyed him carefully, already knowing a few things that Angel Dust was trying to keep hidden. Husk watched confused and worried on what could have the normally loud and confident spider to do a complete 180.

“I’m sorry guys, but I don’t have anything.” Cherri shrugged, still not quite over the death of someone she genuinely started to have feelings for. Angel Dust squeezed her into a side hug.

“I, too, have pretty much pulled every string I could so far my dear.” Alastor slyly spoke, eyeing Angel Dust. He was begging Angel Dust to just call that one person. Any excuse to just see her, let alone work with her.

“I am the string that was pulled, I ain’t got nothing else.” Husk muttered, sending a sideway glare at Alastor. It only made him smile further with amusement. Charlie started to look stressed with each negative response. Lucifer was already in another room trying to see what he could do and Vaggie only had Charlie over these years. Everyone turned to Angel Dust again, all having the understanding he was the last one that could maybe have a secret weapon to help them prepare for the black lash of Adam’s murder.

“I might have something, but only if we really don’t have anything else.” He was practically begging for this to only be used if there really was nothing else left. Lucifer came out with bad news written on his face. Alastor smiled with pure excitement.

“I’m sorry Charlie, there’s only so much I can do to keep us clean after killing Adam. We are going to need someone else really powerful on this. I don’t think the heavens are going to go easy on us.” He stood on the other side of Charlie, rubbing her back. Charlie looked back at Angel Dust with pleading eyes.

“Oh fuck, fine. Okay. Just-“ He sighed, rubbing his one set of hands on his face as the other set started pulling out his phone.

“I’ll be right back.” Cherri looked worried as Angel Dust left the room, not wanting anyone to overhear the conversation at all. Alastor watched with light dancing in his eyes. He can finally work his magic with another powerful demon. Maybe he could even trap her under a contract? It would take a game of mind chess to try and corner someone like her though, but he doesn’t mind entertainment like that.

“He’s got something and he doesn’t?” Lucifer whispered, not so well, to Charlie about Alastor. Alastor snarled, choosing not to respond. Only because he was trying to overhear whatever Angel Dust was saying in the other room.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Hey, listen. I wouldn’t be calling you if I didn’t have any other option.” Angel Dust whispered into the phone. I looked down at it, on speakerphone since I was currently looking over papers in my office.

“Hey, Anthony. What’s going on? You can always call me first. Family first with me, okay? I’m not like mom or dad.” Even though I did take over Dad’s spot as the leader of his mob gang in my life and death. I flipped my papers over and shoved them into the file, quietly filing them away.

“I know, I just-“ he took a deep breath before continuing, breaking my heart. Ever since I took over, all my little brother could see me as, was just a mini dad. The one who pretty much abused us, molded us to be monsters. Anthony had a hard time with it, resulting in a bad path and death. Molly was caught in the crossfire which led to my depression and ruthless behavior, pushing me to be in dad’s spot after he died. I still haven’t found him or mom down here, same with Molly but she had to be in Heaven. I refused any other answer. I also refuse to let Anthony slip through my fingers again.

“It’s okay. You still staying at that hotel? I’ll be there in fifteen.” I hung up the phone, slamming everything into the filing cabinet. I kicked my door open, crashing close after I moved through it.

“Alright, Anthony needs our help, let’s go!” I pulled my sunglasses on and grabbed my baseball bat off my personal guard. All the mob gang started to shuffle around, getting ready to move out.

We all resided in a massive warehouse not too far from the hotel. I made sure I was stationed in whatever warehouse was closest to Anthony, never keeping more than a fifteen minute distance between us. I will never risk being that close to saving him again. I even started talking to the Radio Demon at overlord meetings to make sure Anthony was okay. Alastor never seemed to mind, maybe he even enjoyed our conversations which was uncharacteristically of him.

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“Hey, I just wanted to say thank you for doing whatever you did. I greatly appreciate it along with everyone else.” Charlie held his shoulder, Angel Dust looking like he was a nervous wreck. He hasn’t talked to his sister more than he had to. She doesn’t even know about the horrible treatment Valentino puts him through. Guilt gnawed at him for having Cherri and Charlie see more about his life than his own sister. The sister who always took the blame and the worst beatings for him, the same sister who had a huge meltdown that broke her after he died and Molly. He knew she was different since then but he could only still see his dad or his mom when he saw her. Besides, he didn’t want her wrapped up in the same mess he is in with Valentino. There was nothing she could do.

“Yeah, just please don’t freak out when you realize who I called.” Angel Dust walked back with Charlie, nervously fidgeting with his hands. Cherri knew who he called the second he came back.

“You called her? Holy shit!” Cherri was shocked beyond belief as she rushed Angel Dust.

“Called who?” Vaggie questioned, leaning towards Charlie with panicked eyes. Alastor was watching silently with piqued interest for the reactions his hotel coworkers would have. Lucifer looked confused between Cherri and Angel Dust.

“Was it someone we should be worried about?” Lucifer asked cautiously, sharing a look with Vaggie. That’s when it hit Lucifer in the face. The only overlord they haven’t tried to contact for help was,

“La Morte.” Cherri finished, unsure if Angel Dust really wanted to share the connection part.

“How do you know her?” Vaggie snapped at him. Which irritated Angel Dust completely, losing every defensive thought he was having.

“She’s my sister.” He snarled back. That’s when the door echoed a loud knock. Husk snapped up and watched the door carefully. He remembers her during her first couple decades down here. She mercilessly killed thousands, wild and insane. Sometimes it seemed like there was a pattern and others it seemed like she just lost her sanity and killed anything near her. That was till she found her mob members from her days alive, recruited them all again, and quickly became an overlord. She was a brand new overlord when he lost his status. So, he never really met her but he knew she was a force to recon with. High tension was in the air as Alastor excitedly opened the door.

“Hello dear! Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! My name's Alastor, pleasure to meet you sweetheart, quite a pleasure!” Angel watched carefully at how Alastor kissed the top of her hand. She watched him with something dangerous behind her eyes, she watched him like dad watched his members.

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I watched as Alastor did his usual greeting towards me. Odd he was acting like we have never met before though. Just as I looked up from Alastor, I scanned the room for my brother while responding to his greeting.

”Alastor, we both have met before but it's always great to see you. Please refer to me here as (Y/n).” My eyes spot Anthony after taking in his friends I have seen or met before.

Husk was an overlord right before I practically slid into his seat. He lost his power to Alastor all those years ago. He used to be an arrogant asshole but it seems he was humbled greatly after all that.

Lucifer Morningstar, the king of hell himself was here. He was standing next to his daughter Charlie with a sly smile on his face. I never quite understood why a man like him was down here considering he was always so much nicer than any other demon I have met down here. It was also quite a shame Charlie was grounded down here when she was basically an angel herself. Both of them were extremely kind and sweet. I couldn’t help but smile softly at them both.

There was an ex angel next to Charlie. She spared one of my older members who only really went to hell for never saying anything when I mercilessly killed my brother’s drug dealer. I nodded my head at her.

Cherri and Anthony were standing next to one of Alastor’s souls, Niffty. Cherri would call me off of Anthony’s phone when he was going through it really bad. I always appreciated her filling me in whenever something was going on in my brother’s life. I owe her a lot. Anthony looked nervous to see me though, avoiding eye contact with me at first.

”Anthony-“ I started as Alastor gently released his hold on my hand. Anthony held up a hand, trying to stop me from talking any further.

”It’s Angel Dust here.” I stopped with a furrow in my brows. Why would he correct me like that? Why would he want to go by a drug name, let alone the one that ended up killing him? Was he embarrassed by me?

“What?” Maybe I just heard him wrong, right?

”Sis, it's Angel Dust here. Anthony is dead.” Everyone was watching this argument unfold carefully. I dropped my hands that were reaching out for a hug from him. It broke my heart to hear him mention his death. I don’t even know if he knows how I held his body till his heart completely stopped. It was only for a couple seconds, but it was the most heartbreaking years of my life after he died. My eyes looked at the floor as I chewed on my lip, blinking away the tears that threatened to show. Nodding my head, I sniffed once. All emotions wiped off my face, replaced with the business face our dad taught me. I locked eyes with him.

”Angel Dust,” it rolled off my tongue like the poison it was, “what did you need help with?”

*

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(As always, the characters belong to their owner and the story belongs to me. If you have any requests or ideas, send them over! I will gladly try to write things for my supporters! It really has been a little while since I wrote something lol. I promise I have been working on pieces here and there of everything. I have just been going through a lot of personal things and life changing choices :)! But let me know how you like this. This is the version of my recent series idea but more aimed towards the aspect of whatever you guys have in mind while the other version I have is more detailed on how the reader is. Anyway! Thank you for the love and have a great day <3 :)!)

[kithtaehyung]

would u? (3tan717) | myg

3tan717 drabble #1: would u? pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series: masterlist | three tangerines | 3tan717 rating/genre: pg (18+) ; fluff ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: you see a certain fruit-centered trend online.. and decide to test it on yoongi note: i am so so so sorry this is out on the very last day of feb but things have been absolute bananas lately! tbh i’m surprised this is even getting posted on time and i have even more to do after this is shared but eff it shibal!!! note 2: as promised, this is dedicated to the people that submitted the answers i’m using for this drabble: anon, grapes / @yoongrace, and apryl @aprylynn for this idea hehehe! also i literally just finished this so it's legit unedited so i'm sry for any mistakes! off to go prep for events now! warnings: 3tan yoongi as always, working yoongi??, kitchen, period cramps suck but yoongi to the mf rescue drop date: feb 29th, 2024, 10:03pm est word count: 2.3k

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Ugh. 

Why does this have to happen every fucking month. Why can’t it happen every three? Or six? Or never ever ever? 

Groaning, you roll over, burying your face into the pillow on Yoongi’s side. 

To some degree, you feel placated, probably due to his scent still lingering next to your dismay. He had to get up early to finish a track, but he assured you can be in the room. 

You can hear a little bit of what he’s working on as it bleeds through his headphones, and even just this sliver of sound gives you chills. Not just because of what it sounds like, but the sole fact that Yoongi’s letting you even listen in the first place. 

Huffing out a bit of amusement, you remember the last time Yoongi let you stay while he worked—albeit at his place while he went to the studio. 

Damn, how much you’ve grown since then. All those memories, those quiet times and tumultuous times, everything leading up to now. How time has molded you with knowing hands. 

However, no matter how much has changed all these months, some things have not wavered, like the fact that you needed to be sure he was okay with it—and his answer making you absurdly shy. 

Did he really have to say that you’re either staying or he’s gonna leave? That scheming motherfucker! 

Some drum beats hit your cheek before you realize the menace himself is playing multiple different ones. It’s only a couple hits before he moves onto the next, and you’re about to lift your hea—

“Fuck, where the hell is that kick?” 

Your laugh is stifled by cotton. As tickled as you are to hear Yoongi like this, you don’t wanna do anything to distract him. 

But by doing so, that causes your body to tighten and fuck, it hurts. It hurts to move, it hurts to laugh, it hurts to just exist. God, you want him to come back and join you so bad, but you don’t wanna be that person. 

…Yet. Maybe if it gets so bad you can’t even sleep? 

“Found you! Fucking finally. Thought you could hide from me, huh?” 

Oh, fucking hell, he’s adorable. 

Yeah, there’s no way you’re making him drop everything right now. This is too precious of an afternoon to stop. 

Exhaling a mile long breath, you fight through your pain and feel for your phone, groaning as you shift yourself. When in position under sheets and warm sunlight, you cycle through apps as a distraction. 

Scrolling. Scrolling. Smiling at some animal videos a bit before scrolling again. 

After all of five minutes, you start to see a trend on your feed, and suddenly get the idea to try it on Yoongi. It’s simple and harmless, right? 

You [3:30pm]: would u peel an orange for me 

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, and you lift your head slightly to see if he looks at his phone. 

When he does, he checks it really quick before setting it back down on his desk, back to clicking on his screen. 

Ah. Damn. He must really be in the zone because… 

Uhh. 

Blinking, you watch as Yoongi rolls his chair out to get up, setting his glasses down and heading out of the room with a light swing of his chains. 

Uh. What just happened? Did you upset him? You’re so stunned that his swift exit has you wanting to get up and follow him.  

But ow. Ouch. It’s maddening how much your cramps are getting to you. 

Bearing the punches to your gut, you start sliding out of the bed, straining and sucking in sharp breaths just to stand and pull Yoongi’s comforter over your tension. 

Padding out the bedroom, your worries make your steps tiny and heavy, and you regret sending that text because you literally just said you weren’t… gonna…

On the dining table—quiet—lie three tangerines, peeled and placed next to vibrant scraps while your lover peels a fourth with diligent, devoted hands. 

And you can’t even form words that match how you feel. 

Your vision swims right as Yoongi looks your way, his body stilling before he puts the fruit down. 

When he approaches with concern, you answer his silent questions through hiccups, “I—I thought you left cus—you were mad.” 

“Huh?” 

“I don’t even know,” you swallow, gesturing to all of your lower half and feeling him hold the slipping blanket. “It’s just… this, I guess.”

“Does it hurt?” 

“Like a motherfucker.” 

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, doll. Hold up.” Handing you the comforter, Yoongi goes to his cabinets in the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of medicine before walking it over. “You gotta take something as soon as you feel it. Don’t let it get this bad.”

“I know,” you groan, resting your head on his shirt and inhaling his healing presence. “I didn’t wanna bother you.” 

Your forehead is kissed. “You’re not bothering me. Especially with something like this.” 

“Okay.” 

He walks away again to grab some water, and you watch as he pours some into an electric kettle before starting it up. 

Glancing back at the fruit, you sigh, clutching the bottle of pills while feeling the weight of his comforter. He’s probably not pleased with the way it might drag on the ground, so you gather it and pick the end chair to sit on. 

And then you sigh, “Sorry for making you peel those. I didn’t even plan on eating anything.”  

“Too bad. You’re gonna eat what I make you anyway.” 

Wait, he’s cooking? He has work to do! “You’re working, though. Don’t worry about me right now.” 

“It’ll be quick.” 

“What are you making?” 

A glass bowl and pan are procured from random places before Yoongi blinks in place. “Uhh.. You’ll see.” 

As he clunks them onto his counter and stove, you watch with hearts for eyes as he bustles around the kitchen space. Even doing things as simple as washing his hands, opening his fridge, and simply grabbing a knife gives you pause. 

And this is when you realize that you can watch Yoongi do absolutely anything and be amazed. 

Even when he stands, watching you with a look that’s wait why doesn’t he look—

“Take the medicine, baby girl.” 

Oh. 

Snapping out of your trance, you nod. “Sorry.” 

Yoongi continues to give you glances until you swallow down the painkillers, satisfied enough to continue his cooking venture when you take the second one. 

As the sun paints the apartment in marigold and light, you keep watching with a smile as he brings the kitchen to life. Butter sizzles in a pan, tangerines are getting halved on a board, and something is getting mixed with a whisk. 

Who knew that the neighborhood fuckboy would have a whisk on hand? Not the younger you, that’s for damn sure. 

But here Yoongi is, in the flesh, whisking away with veiny forearms that have you thinking the most absurd thoughts during this time of the month. The only thing that would cut through the raging horniness would be getting up to see what the hell he’s making. 

It’s starting to smell familiar though. But he put the tangerines in the pan so you don’t even know what to expect right now. 

Walking up—blanket left behind—you observe the kitchen before peering over his broad shoulder. “Mm.. Smells like pancakes.” 

Yoongi doesn’t answer, but when you see the consistency of the batter, you realize you’re correct. “Oh, it is! I’m smart.” 

“You are,” he laughs. “But you didn’t get it all the way right.” 

“No?” 

“Nope.” Yoongi then gently gets you to move before he pours the batter over the slices, and you crane your neck to watch as he evens it all out. “Just one tangerine pancake.”

“Oh, okay,” you scoff, earning a laugh at your side. “Whatever, chef.” 

“We’ll see what you say in a bit.” 

Is he gonna leave it or flip it? Probably the latter. 

“K. Gonna flip that once it’s done.” 

Nice. You smile to yourself, loving how you’re starting to really be on the same page. Nudging him, you keep watching as he lowers the heat and sets the lid on the pan. “What now?” 

“We wait,” he responds, dusting his hands together before cleaning up his mixing bowl. “And I’m gonna see if we have any sugar.”

Damn it, Yoongi cannot keep saying that two-letter word. It’s starting to be detrimental to your health. “I can help.” 

“S’ok,” he assures, nose upturned. “Just watch me work.” 

“Oh, I’m very good at doing that.” 

At this, Yoongi turns and gives you a smile that immediately reminds you of summer, and you almost feel like crying again. 

“I’ve actually never tried this, but. We’ll see if this works.” 

With nothing snarky, or teasing, or fake to say, you reply with a smile and a genuine, “I’m sure it will.” 

When he keeps staring, his eyes lower to your lips, and you don’t care that you probably look like a wreck, or feel like one. Because the way he’s looking at you now makes you glow. 

If only the kettle didn’t decide this was the moment to stop boiling. 

You were probably about to get the kiss of your life. 

But Yoongi halts in his tracks before shifting to get a mug, setting it down with a thud before checking on the pancakes. Pancake. Whatever that delicious-smelling thing is gonna be. 

“There’s some tea packets in that right drawer. Help yourself cus I’d rather you pick.” 

Chuckling, you oblige before scooting over. After seeing a small jar of granules on the counter, you start rummaging through the drawer, exploring the various options while hearing the sound of a plate behind you. 

Ah, Yoongi’s flipping it. 

As you turn, you’re just in time to watch the muscles in his back protrude through his shirt as he flips the pan, impressed as he sets the plate down because holy hell that looks great. 

“Sugar, sugar, sugar… Suga, suga, suga.” 

Laughing, you interrupt his silly search as you grab the jar you just saw. “Suga suga, how you get so fly?”

Yoongi stops to see what’s in your hand, and he huffs through a grin before grabbing it. “Thanks, doll.” 

You keep humming the song that’s now wedged into your head as you watch him sprinkle bits on the pancake. 

“I don’t have a blowtorch,” he admits, “But I do have this.” 

Rolling out a drawer, Yoongi takes out a long lighter before holding it to the sugary top, humming the same song you were just singing without even knowing it. As the sugar slowly but surely heats, you both keep humming and basking in a calm afternoon. 

And you don’t even feel the pain anymore. 

“Go ahead and sit, babe.” 

“You sure?” 

“Uh huh.” 

Following instructions, you make your way to the table, cocooning yourself in his comforter again as you await the cutest meal you’ve had in weeks. Months. Lifetimes. 

Speaking of lifetimes… You hope every version of you meets every version of him. No matter when. No matter where. Because you want every version of yourself to find happiness, and Yoongi has been the one to help you finally find it. 

And he certainly passed whatever the hell this orange theory thing was supposed to be. 

Plates are set down to break you out of introspection, and you glance up with eyes sparkling. 

When Yoongi raises a brow, you just smile. When he asks what’s gotten into you, a chuckle escapes before you shake your head, 

“Nothing, baby. Just didn’t expect all this from that text.” 

As he plops into the next chair, you love the way the sun settles on his skin. Highlights his hair. Shimmers in his eyes. 

“Don’t even need to ask, babe.” He captures your attention with a calm look. “I was waiting for any distractions anyways.” 

So this was for him, too? Good. 

Grabbing your fork, you giggle. “Sounded like you were having a little trouble over there.” 

“I was! This is what I get for not saving my shit.” 

Both of you sit back in laugher as you throw your hands out. “Do that!” 

“I’m lazy!” 

“Tough shit!” 

“I know!” 

Grinning, you loll your head before waving your fork out. “You’re gonna save those sounds, and you’re gonna remember this day and thank me.” 

Yoongi just tightens his lips in a smile, eyes creased and glimmering. “Maybe.” 

“Yes. I’ll stand there and watch you until you do it.” 

"Really.."

For the rest of the afternoon—with full bellies and clear minds—you rest on the edge of Yoongi’s bed, forcing him to find the files he needs and watching him groan his way through saving everything. 

Constantly laughing at the ridiculously random names he’s assigning them.

When he’s done, you watch as he spins around in his chair, heart thumping with anticipation as you’re met with a waiting pair of eyes.

Breathtaking. 

When he leans in, you feel incredibly shy. Always, always, always. This will forever remain the same.

And—just as well—Yoongi's kisses will forever taste like tangerines. 

Three of them, to be exact. 

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fin. :)

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how did the first 717 drabble go! | join the discord hehe

a/n: nothing much to say other than i love y'all so much! i will try responding to anything when i can (there's literally still all the 3tan12 feedback to get to) but i do read all the commentary sent in and it keeps me going strong :'))) so thank you again for being here and being amazingly patient with me. off to work on more things but i shall be back once the wild weeks are over!

a/n 2: suga suga how you get so flyyyy hahaha

[whxtedreams]

Forgetful Love

A Joel x reader birthday oneshot

Summary: she wasn't surprised that he forgot her birthday. Considering the weight he carried on his shoulders, it was a given that it would slip his mind. But she knew that Joel would make it up to her, as he always did.

Word Count: 3.1k

Tags: Birthdays, forgotten birthday, joel just trying to do his best, sad!joel, sarah and tommy mentioned, fluff, hiking trip, reader has she/her pronouns, third person POV

Main masterlist

Joel Miller has a very bad habit of forgetfulness.  

It seemed that no matter how hard he tried, he could not quite shake the inclination to forget important details. Whether it was a scheduled appointment, Sarah’s sleepover parties at his house, or even where he last left his keys, the man’s memory often failed him in the most inconvenient of moments.

His mind was constantly overloaded, buzzing with endless to-do lists and responsibilities. It was a never-ending whirlwind of tasks, each demanding his attention and care. No wonder he often forgot things—there was simply too much information swirling around in his head. She could see it in his eyes, could almost hear the gears in his mind grinding as he tried to juggle everything.

So really, she wasn't surprised that he forgot her birthday. Considering the weight he carried on his shoulders, it was a given that it would slip his mind. She understood that his forgetfulness wasn't done out of ignorance or indifference, but merely a result of being so caught up in the chaos and commotion of life.

The day was spent in the quiet haven of her kitchen, where music played softly in the background, filling the air with a soothing, familiar melody. The rich, sweet aroma of chocolate cake hung in the air and the taste of a cool, sweet, iced coffee on her tongue.

When the cake had cooled and iced, the turntable played static at the end of the record and the ice coffee turned warm, Joel texted.

A lot.

Joel: i am the worst person on earth Joel: sarah waited until NOW to remind me Joel: not that its her fault. thats all on me Joel: i fired her as my mini assistant BTW Joel: happy birthday Joel: im sorry Joel: i love you Joel: im coming over now

The texts from Joel, no matter when they arrived, brought a soft smile to her face. Whether it was at 12am this morning or as the clock ticked over to tomorrow, she couldn’t bring herself to feel upset.

She could picture the scene that more than likely unfolded in her mind. She imagined Sarah casually mentioning the forgotten day as Joel strolled through the door, his keys slipping from his fingers as he panicked. Then, a stream of swears escaping him as he frantically searched for his phone, only to realize it was still in his truck, where he had left it after a long day’s work. And to top it all off, his phone was, predictably, dead because he had forgotten to charge it… again.

She couldn’t help but chuckle as she thought about how the scenario was bound to play out. Deep down, she knew that forgetfulness and chaos were just a couple more quirks in the man she loved. That’s why she had already taken the initiative to order takeout, ensuring that even if the day didn’t start perfectly, it would at least end the way it should.

As she stood in front of the table, the evidence of her efforts laid out before her—the homemade cake and the take-out food neatly arranged and plated—she couldn't help but feel a mix of affection and amusement.

She took a quick photo and sent it to him in response to his texts.

*photo attached* Don’t stress!

Ten minutes after she had sent the picture, the sound of the front door opening echoed through the apartment. Joel had finally arrived and she could hear the soft shuffle of his feet as he made his way inside. She waited expectantly at the dining table and watched as he strode around the corner, flowers in hand.

Flowers from his garden.

He trudged towards the table, his shoulders drooped in a mix of defeat and disappointment. The bouquet of flowers in his hand sagged slightly as he approached, and he stopped just short of the table. His eyes met the food laid out before him. "I should have been the one to do all this for you," he mumbled, his frown deepened with guilt.

She attempted to ease his guilt; her voice soft as she spoke. "It's okay," she assured him, watching as he sank into the chair at the table. But she could see from the guilt-ridden expression on his face that he wasn’t convinced, his eyes downcast as he settled into his seat.

She gently took the bouquet from his hand and brought it to her face, inhaling deeply. The sweet, familiar scent filled her senses—a fragrance that reminded her of both him and his daughter. It was a warm, comforting smell, like a snapshot of their lives together. Smiling into the petals, she held the flowers close.

“These are really pretty.” She said.

“Sarah picked them, wrapped them up for you,” Joel's voice was soft as he spoke and just as her fingers traced the delicate petal of a flower, he reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a small box and placed it on the table, “even made you this.”

Her smile widened as she carefully opened the box, revealing the origami animals inside. One by one, she took them out. Her laughter filled the room as she admired each one. The origami creatures were a little wonky and uneven, but they were endearing in their imperfection.

“Can see she’s really taking those books I got her seriously.”

"Got a real talent for it. Everything she picks up, she does it perfectly.” As Joel spoke, his fingers fidgeted with the strap of his watch. A frown etched deep on his face.

Her intuition picked up on the nuance behind his words, and she couldn’t help but notice the undercurrent of comparison and self-criticism in his tone. It was clear to her that Joel struggled with feelings of inadequacy.

She placed the origami down beside the flowers and reached gently across the table, her hands enclosing his fidgeting ones. Her voice was soft and reassuring as she spoke, offering comfort and support. "She gets it from you," she said. "Her determination, her talents—they come from you. You've given her the building blocks to excel. You're not the failure you think you are, Joel."

“I forgot your birthday.”

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

“I should have taken you out for dinner, bought you gifts and made you feel special. Instead you bought your own dinner and cooked your own damn birthday cake.” Joel let out a deep sigh, his eyes met hers as he pressed her hand to his lips and placed a gentle, tender kiss on her knuckles.

Her words were soft and sincere as she spoke, her eyes meeting his. "You always make me feel special. Just being here is enough." she confessed. A smile tugged at her lips as she added, "And let's be honest, I make a damn good cake. I would have done that anyway." The lightheartedness in her tone elicits a laugh from Joel, his head shook in amusement as he dropped her hand.

A soft sigh escaped his lips. The corners of his mouth tugged upwards; a tender smile formed as he looked at her.

He nodded, conceding to her words with a mock reluctance. "Yeah, alright," he huffed as his gaze shifted down to the spread of food laid out before him on the table.

As she stood to take the flowers into the kitchen, Joel continued, "I've cleared my plans for next weekend," he said, a note of excitement in his voice. "We're going to hit that hiking trail I've been talking about. It's got a real nice river and views."

She chuckled to herself as she filled a vase with water and placed the flowers inside, their vibrant colors adding warmth to the room. Hearing his mention of the weekend plans, she decided to tease him a little. "I actually already have plans," she called out from the kitchen.

As she returned to the dining table, carrying the vase of flowers in her hands, she noticed the disappointment etched onto Joel's face. His expression mirrored a mixture of surprise and a touch of hurt, realizing that she had other plans for the weekend.

Without him.

She set the vase of flowers down in the center of the table. Then, she took her seat across from him. Her movements were slow and deliberate, prolonging the anticipation. A playful smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she met his gaze.

She began to dish their dinners and she smiled to herself as she spoke. "You see," she began, her tone lighthearted, "there's this guy who forgets everything under the sun." She paused, letting the words sink in as she met his gaze, a playful sparkle in her eyes. "I had a feeling he would forget today. That he'd be all mopey about it and try to make things up by taking me away for the weekend. So, I already planned to spend my weekend with him."

Joel's eyes settled on her and his smile radiated with adoration. The look on his face was almost reverent, his gaze softened with love and appreciation. The corners of his lips tugged upward and his heart felt fuller than ever before, grateful for her understanding and patience with him.

“I love you, you know that right?” He asked.

 Without hesitation, she responded, her voice filled with unwavering certainty.

"I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life."

Hand in hand, Joel led the way as he guided her along the path. Her gaze, however, was fixed on the ground at her feet. He had teased her multiple times, telling her that she was missing out on the scenic views by looking down all the time. However, she couldn’t help it—the fear of tripping over a rock or root made her keep her focus on the ground.

He had helped her regain her balance each time, his hand steadied her as she stumbled. But by the fifth time, the teasing ceased. Replaced with a more protective, watchful gaze.

The afternoon sun was high, casting a warm glow over the landscape as they reached the river. The grass beneath their feet was soft and lush, and the tall trees provided a shady canopy overhead. The air was filled with the melodic tunes of birds, singing their hearts out, while playful rabbits darted amongst the colorful flowers.

She was at a loss for words, her eyes widened as she absorbed the breathtaking view around them. As he released her hand and continued walking, she stayed still for a moment, mesmerized by the natural beauty of their surroundings. It was only when he placed a blanket on the grass and began unloading food from his bag that she snapped out of her reverie, drawn to join him.

The sunlight glinted on his skin, and his eyes sparkled with mirth as he looked up at her, a wide smile stretched across his face. "I had to fight off Tommy this morning," he chuckled, a hint of playful exaggeration in his voice. "He came over hungover and drooled at the sight of all the food.”

She laughed and took her seat beside him. The contagious nature of his smile spread to her own lips.

They sat beside each other; their shoulders gently pressed together. Their conversations flowed easily against the backdrop of the rushing water and the gentle breeze. Their gazes danced back and forth between the flowing river and each other's eyes. An intimate atmosphere filled with stolen glances and warm smiles.

Joel's voice broke the comfortable silence as they strolled along the riverbank, stomachs full. "I really am sorry," he said, his eyes fixed on the water's edge as they walked together.

She moved closer to him, their fingers laced together as she gently nudged his shoulder with hers. A soft smile graced her lips as she hugged his arm. “I know." she said, her voice gentle and understanding. "But I was never upset with you."

“You should have been.”

“Would you have been upset if I forgot your birthday?” She asked.

“Well, no-”

Her voice was soft and comforting as she spoke, her cheek pressed against his arm, her gaze fixed on his face. "Then don’t stress yourself over it," she said, a gentle understanding smile played on her lips. "The only person who’s upset about you forgetting, is you."

His smile was subtle, barely visible on his lips as he nodded in acknowledgment of her words. There was a hint of relief in his eyes, as if a small burden had been lifted.

“I just want to do better by you.” He sighed, a shrug of his shoulders.

A buzz in her pocket grabbed her attention, pulling her gaze away from Joel and onto her phone. She pulled it out and stared down at the screen, her focus shifted from the man beside her to the message on her phone.

Sarah: Tried calling dad. Phone’s dead AGAIN. Got me thinking the two of you have fallen down a cliff or drowned or something. Sarah: also can you ask him to get juice on his way home PLEASE? Tommy drank it all

 She shook her head; a small huff of laughter escaped her lips as she glanced up at Joel.

Of course his phone was dead, she thought.

“How about we take small steps to being better, and I know just how to start you off.” She said as she poked his arm.

He hummed.

“And what would that be babe?”

“Charge your phone, Sarah thinks you’re dead.”

Joel cursed under his breath. His expression turned into a frown as he patted his pockets. He muttered that he must have left his phone back at the car.

Her lips curled into a smile as she stealthily lifted her phone and snapped a picture of Joel, capturing his grumpy expression as he searched for his missing phone.

She sent the photo to Sarah.

Here’s a photo of your very much alive dad realizing that not only is his phone dead, but back in the car. Sarah: He’ll never change Sarah: I love him.

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she read Sarah's message. A pang of affection and adoration filled her chest as she gazed back at Joel, still on the quest to find his misplaced phone.

She slipped her phone back into her pocket and reached out, taking hold of his hands. His grumbling continued like a low murmur in the background, the annoyance at having forgotten his phone still fresh in his mind. In response to his frustration, she gently but firmly gripped his hands, bringing his attention back to her.

Her voice was soft but firm as she told him, "I love you so much." She meant it with every fiber of her being. She loved his flaws, quirks, and imperfections with unwavering affection. She loved him completely, without reservation and with every ounce of her heart.

His response was sincere, his voice filled with warmth and affection as he replied, "I love you too." There was a visible shift in his demeanor as his shoulders relaxed, a weight lifted from the weight of his disappointment. He held her gaze, his own eyes met hers, and in that moment, she knew he saw the depth of her love reflected at him.

Despite his repeated forgetful blunders, no matter how many birthdays he managed to forget, she knew that as long as he loved her, she wouldn't hold it against him. She understood that his forgetfulness didn't diminish his feelings for her. In fact, his efforts to make it up to her only strengthened her belief in the depth of his love. It was a testament to their connection, a reminder that even if he weren't the perfect planner, his love was unshakable and unwavering.

She was sympathetic to his guilt and the weight of disappointment when he let others down. She knew how much he prioritized making the people in his life happy. That's why it was impossible for her to be upset with him. He was trying his best, and that counted for everything in her eyes. She understood his innate need to please others, and she would rather support and reassure him than hold his forgetfulness against him.

Because she loved him with everything.

And he, loved her more.

EXTRA

SARAH POV

Sarah had written the date on various notes and stuck them around the house where she knew he would see them. He didn’t see them, oblivious to them, actually. She thought sticking one on the coffee machine was the perfect place, but she should have known that her dad would miss his alarm again and end up getting a coffee on the way to work instead.

She had set an alarm to remind him in his phone too, only for his phone to be dead before he even left for work. 

She instead spent her Saturday picking flowers from their yard and bundled them into a bouquet for when her dad got home and began to freak out. She made little origami animals and left the box next to the flowers on the dining table and waited for her dad to get home.

He had come home that night, a deep sigh as he walked through the door. She didn’t need to see him to know what his face looked like when she called out it was his girlfriend’s birthday today. She heard him swear, heard his keys drop to the floor and the telltale sound of him patting his pockets to find his phone. She heard him swear again and then the front door opened and closed. She smiled to herself when he ran into the kitchen, mumbling that his phone is flat and asking her where a charger was as he digs through a bits and pieces bowl on the kitchen counter. Sarah casually held the charger in her hand and he thanked her five times. She pushed the present she made and the flowers and she could see the guilt in his face as he took them. He promised he would take her out for dinner and that movie she’s been nagging him to go see with her. 

She texted Tommy if he was free to hang out with her next weekend because she knew that her dad would take his girlfriend out for a weekend away– she had been purposefully talking about that hiking trail after all. 

And when her dad’s phone went straight to voicemail while he was away, she knew she should have found his phone and put it on charge for him. 

She didn’t mind doing any of this, they were a team after all.

Notes:

hehe it's my birthday, big old 24!

[wallowslistener]

flustered by your gaze. ೨ৎ s. reid x reader

𐙚˚ spencer reid x fem!reader. fluff. 2.0k words.

✦ you and spencer were sitting across from each other in the break room, a lull between cases giving you both a rare moment of calm. the rest of the team was busy elsewhere, leaving just the two of you alone, sipping coffee and casually chatting about an article spencer had been reading on micro expressions.

spencer had a way of diving into topics with such enthusiasm that it was impossible not to be drawn in. he was explaining a study on how certain facial movements could reveal a person’s true emotions, his words flowing effortlessly as he spoke.

but your attention wasn’t entirely on what he was saying. as you listened, your gaze lingered on his face, his sharp but soft features, the way his lips moved when he spoke, the subtle way his brow furrowed when he was deep in thought.

it wasn’t that you weren’t interested in what he was saying. you were. but there was something about spencer’s presence that had always captivated you, and now, sitting here so close to him, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander.

as spencer continued talking, you let your gaze drift from his eyes to his lips, noticing the way they curved slightly when he got particularly excited about a topic. you tried to focus on his words, but your eyes kept trailing over the contours of his face, the sharp line of his jaw, the way a few strands of hair had fallen across his forehead.

he was saying something about how certain micro expressions could last for just a fraction of a second, but your eyes flicked back to his lips again, and you wondered, briefly, what it would feel like to kiss him.

it was a fleeting thought, but it must have shown on your face, because suddenly spencer paused mid sentence, his words faltering as he caught your gaze. he blinked, his expression shifting from focused to flustered in an instant.

“uh, what… what was i saying?” he stammered, clearly thrown off by the intensity of your eye contact. his hand came up to nervously push a strand of hair behind his ear, and you could see the slight flush rising in his cheeks.

“you were talking about micro expressions,” you said, your voice soft but amused by how easily he was flustered. “but you kind of lost your train of thought.”

spencer swallowed hard, his eyes darting away for a moment as he adjusted his position in the chair. “right… micro expressions,” he repeated, though it was clear that his mind wasn’t on the topic anymore.

you smiled, leaning forward just a little, your gaze still fixed on him. “you okay, spence? you seem a little… distracted.”

his eyes flickered back to yours, and you could see him trying to regain his composure. “i-i’m not distracted,” he lied, though the way his voice wavered betrayed him. his gaze dropped to his coffee cup, his fingers tapping nervously against the ceramic. “it’s just… um… you’re… you’re looking at me… kind of intensely.”

you raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “am i?”

spencer nodded quickly, his blush deepening. “yeah. i mean, not that it’s a bad thing,” he added hastily, “it’s just… i’m not used to it. most people don’t… look at me like that.”

“like what?” you asked, leaning in a little more, your voice dropping lower.

spencer’s breath hitched slightly, and you could tell he was trying to think of a way to explain himself without making things more awkward. he hesitated, his eyes darting between your face and the table. “like… like you’re paying attention to more than just what i'm saying.”

you bit back a smile, letting your gaze drop to his lips again, just for a second, before meeting his eyes once more. “maybe i am.”

that statement seemed to throw him even more off balance. spencer blinked rapidly, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to come up with a response. “oh,” was all he managed to say at first, his usual eloquence completely abandoning him.

you could see the conflict on his face. the part of him that wanted to keep talking about his study, and the part of him that was hyper aware of the way you were looking at him. he shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his hands fidgeting in his lap as he tried to hide how flustered he was.

“spencer,” you said softly, your voice cutting through his internal struggle. “relax. i’m just… enjoying the conversation.”

he let out a nervous laugh, finally meeting your gaze again, though his cheeks were still flushed. “right. conversation.” he rubbed the back of his neck, clearly still flustered. “i, uh… i’m sorry. i don’t usually get this… distracted.”

you leaned back slightly, giving him a little space, though your eyes never left his face. “it’s okay. i kind of like seeing you a little flustered.”

spencer’s eyes widened at that, and he let out a soft, awkward chuckle, his fingers tapping rapidly against the table. “i… i don’t usually get flustered,” he muttered, though you could tell even he didn’t believe that.

“maybe it’s just me,” you teased gently, your smile softening. “you do seem a little more… affected when i’m around.”

spencer’s blush deepened even more, if that was possible, and he avoided your gaze, focusing instead on the coffee cup in his hands. “it’s just… you have a very… intense way of looking at people,” he admitted quietly. “and it’s… a little distracting.”

you smiled at that, appreciating his honesty. “i’ll try to tone it down,” you said, though there was a playful glint in your eyes that told him you weren’t entirely serious.

spencer glanced up at you, his expression softening a little now that the tension had eased. “no, it’s… it’s okay,” he said, his voice more genuine this time. “i think… i kind of like it.”

you could see the vulnerability in his eyes, that quiet admission of his feelings coming through even if he couldn’t quite say it outright. the air between you felt charged, the unspoken tension lingering even as you both returned to your conversation.

but now, every glance, every word, carried a different weight. spencer was still a little flustered, but now he was smiling more, his usual nervousness softened by the way he was starting to let his guard down around you.

the conversation continued, but the tension between you hadn’t dissipated. if anything, it had only grown thicker, simmering just beneath the surface. spencer kept talking, though his words were softer now, less focused on the topic at hand and more on keeping himself grounded. you could tell he was still flustered, his nervous energy showing in the way he fidgeted with his coffee cup, but there was a different kind of tension in the air now. one that neither of you could ignore.

your gaze found his lips again, a fleeting glance that you hadn’t meant to linger on. but when you looked back up, you noticed spencer had gone quiet, his own gaze locked on you now. he wasn’t speaking anymore, his breath coming in shallow, uneven rhythms as he seemed to realize where your thoughts were drifting.

spencer swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing as he tried to gather himself. his eyes flicked between yours, searching, hesitating. you could see the conflict in his expression. part of him wanting to lean in, the other part held back by his nervousness, unsure if he should take that step.

the air was thick with unspoken questions, both of you wondering if this moment would go further. his lips parted slightly, and you could feel your heart start to race as the distance between you suddenly seemed too much.

“spencer,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper, but it was enough to pull him from his thoughts.

he blinked, his focus snapping back to your eyes, and you saw the flush on his cheeks darken as he realized just how close you were now. “i.. i don’t…” he trailed off, his words caught in his throat. it was clear he didn’t know how to navigate this moment, torn between his desire and his uncertainty.

you didn’t say anything else. instead, you let your eyes drift back to his lips, the silent invitation hanging in the air between you. spencer’s breath hitched again, his body frozen for a moment, but then something shifted in him. you saw the way his gaze softened, his nerves still evident but overshadowed by the pull between you two.

and then, slowly, almost tentatively, he leaned in. his movements were careful, as if he were testing the waters, waiting for you to stop him. but you didn’t. you stayed still, your heart pounding in your chest, anticipation buzzing in your veins as he closed the small gap between you.

when his lips finally brushed against yours, it was soft, barely more than a whisper of a kiss. spencer hesitated for a split second, as if making sure this was okay, and when you didn’t pull away, he pressed a little harder. the kiss was gentle at first, sweet and exploratory, like he was still figuring out how to navigate this unfamiliar territory.

but then something shifted. maybe it was the way you responded, your hand reaching up to gently cup the side of his face, your fingers brushing against his jaw. or maybe it was the way his nerves seemed to melt away the longer the kiss went on. whatever it was, spencer began to kiss you with more certainty, more passion, his hands finally coming to rest on your waist, pulling you a little closer.

there was still a softness to it. a hesitancy, like he was savoring every second, but it was also filled with the quiet intensity that had been building between you for weeks. spencer’s lips moved against yours with a mix of nervousness and need, and you could feel the way his breath hitched every now and then, like he couldn’t quite believe this was happening.

when you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together as you tried to steady yourselves. spencer’s eyes were wide, his lips slightly swollen from the kiss, and there was a look of awe on his face, like he was still processing what had just happened.

“i... i didn’t mean to…” he started, his voice soft and shaky, but you shook your head, smiling gently as you brushed your thumb over his cheek.

“you don’t have to apologize, spence,” you said quietly. “i wanted that.”

he let out a small, breathy laugh, clearly still flustered but no longer nervous in the same way. “i… i’ve never… kissed anyone like that before,” he admitted, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t catch it. there was a vulnerability in his words, a confession that made your heart swell.

you smiled softly, leaning in to press another gentle kiss to his lips. “you’re a natural,” you teased lightly, and you saw the way his blush deepened at the compliment.

spencer’s eyes flicked down to your lips again, and for a moment, it seemed like he might kiss you again. but then he pulled back slightly, his hand still resting on your waist as he looked around the room, suddenly aware of where you were. “we… we probably shouldn’t be doing this here,” he said, though his voice was laced with reluctance.

you nodded, knowing he was right, but unable to stop the smile that tugged at your lips. “probably not,” you agreed.

but as spencer pulled back, giving you both a little more space, you could still see the way his eyes lingered on you, the unspoken promise that this was far from over. the kiss had been unexpected, but now that the floodgates were open, it felt like everything between you had shifted, the connection between you deeper than before.

spencer cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair as he tried to compose himself. “maybe we could… continue this later?” he suggested, his voice a little shy but hopeful.

you grinned, leaning in just enough to whisper, “definitely.”

[lovecla]

IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

chapter nine:

<last chapter> <next chapter>

➴ warnings: none, just pure, domestic soph and jack

➴ word count: 2.8k

➴ author’s note: we’re so close to the end of IYLM,LMK that i’m feeling a little bit emotional :,) hope u guys like this one and as always, thank u so much for reading

“HAVE you guys thought about how you’re going to announce your relationship?” Grace asked, throwing herself in the chair by the fireplace.

You were all in your house, Jack, Grace, Nico and you, chatting after a dinner together. It was the 19th of December, and you were all extremely busy: Jack and Nico with the season, you and Grace with your concert next week, at the Jingle Ball in New York, on the 23rd

“I think the best thing you could do is soft launch it,” Grace answered her own question, nodding. “It would be the move.”

Jack rested his chin on top of your head. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Soft launch means hinting that you’re dating someone without actually saying who it is,” you offered, sitting closer to him. You were all on the floor, and you were between Jack’s legs, drowning in his arms.

“Why would I do that?” He asked, and you can hear the annoyance in his voice. “If I am dating Soph, I want everyone to know about it.”

You smiled, amused with his answer.

“I know that, caveman, but it would be fun to let your fans speculate.” Grace answers back, rolling her eyes.

“Bullshit.”

You and Nico laugh, watching as Jack and Grace argue back and forth over the topic.

You haven’t thought about how you’d share your relationship status with your fans. Sure, you were head over heels for Jack and you— now— knew he felt the same, but you still had your fears and worries. If you announced that you are dating Jack and you both end up breaking up after that, you knew it would cause a commotion— lots and lots of people talking about you and your bad taste in guys and how unlucky you are.

But Jack was so… he was your forever, and you knew it.

It might be soon to say this, but it is just how you feel; Jack makes you feel special in a way only your family had done before and you could see your future with him, and you actually wanted it.

Nico and Grace left shortly after that, because you needed to start packing for your trip. You and Jack organized the kitchen, putting the dishes away and wiping the counters. Surprisingly, Jack did most of the chores himself and even liked doing them.

After you were done, you both went back to your bedroom, and you started organising your things.

“Are you going to perform in sweatpants?” He asked, looking genuinely curious.

You rolled your eyes and laughed, putting another pair of socks inside your bag. “Of course not, Hughes. The outfit I’m supposed to wear during the concert is in New York, because it’s just borrowed. I don’t actually keep the dresses or the skirts and tops I wear during events.”

“That sucks,” he laid on the bed. “I’d love to see you wearing one of those little skirts while you cook lunch.”

“Pervert,” you mumbled, trying to remember if you needed anything else.

“Do you really have to go tomorrow? The concert is on the 24th, baby,” Jack questioned, for the third time today. You smiled.

“You already know the answer, handsome.”

He got up and closed your bag, before putting it on the floor and picking you up, making you laugh. He threw you on the bed, gently, and stood on top of you, his hands on each side of your head.

“I’m gonna miss you, y’know,” he whispered, before placing a gentle kiss on your lips, making your heart beat faster. How’d you get so lucky?

“Me too,” you replied, placing your hands on his cheeks. “I’m still feeling shitty for telling your mom that I wouldn’t be able to spend Christmas with you guys. I really wanted to,” you confessed, furrowing your eyebrows.

Ellen called you when she found out about you and Jack, and rambled for thirty minutes about how she knew you were the right person for him and how she adored you and that you now needed to spend Christmas with them.

You expected yourself to feel overwhelmed and anxious because they were great people and you wanted them to like you, but you found yourself feeling nothing but happy when Ellen called.

But you couldn’t miss the concert and it was damn near impossible getting a plane ticket on the 25th, especially with all the snowing happening in New York. So, Christmas with Grace in your hotel bedroom it is.

“I still can’t believe you’ll be all alone with Grace.” Jack added, looking distressed.

“It’s just how my job works, baby,” you shrugged, giving him a half smile. “I’m sure that if you had to play during the holidays you would.”

He blinked twice before getting under the covers and dragging you with him, so you could be the little spoon, but facing him still.

“Yeah, I would, but it doesn’t mean I’d be happy with it.”

You wanted to tell him that you really didn’t mind that much, you loved performing and you loved to make your fans happy. But you could see he was genuinely upset about the whole situation, so you just snuggled closer and kissed his neck.

“Let’s just sleep, okay?” Your voice sounded lazy and tired, just like how you were feeling. “I leave early tomorrow and you have to go to practice.”

He didn’t say anything, just held you tighter, sighed and kissed your head. “See you tomorrow, baby.”

“Mhm,” you smiled. “Love you.”

“Love you more.”

Even if you thought that was up for debate, you didn’t say anything, embracing the sleep with open arms.

— ⛄️

“FIVE minutes!” You heard the stage manager’s yell in your earpiece, while you read Jack’s texts on your phone.

Texting before concerts and games was just another way of trying to be closer to each other, even when you were away. One of your fears was Jack getting bored of your relationship because you couldn’t be with him whenever he needed— sometimes you had to work on his days off and couldn’t see him.

But whenever he texted you before his games, or when he FaceTimed you before you went to bed, no matter what time it was for him, you could feel your fears stepping back. Jack was a really nice boyfriend for a guy who had never had a girlfriend before, that you had to admit.

You replied back, giving your phone to Grace before you stood behind the curtains, waiting for them to open so you could enter the stage.

The Madison Square Garden Arena was filled with people and screams. You were the opening act, so it was a huge deal. Grace gave you a good luck kiss before you stepped on stage, smiling at how many people were there.

As you step on stage, the energy is electric, with the twinkling holiday lights reflecting off the excited crowd. The first few beats of the "Nonsense Christmas Remix" kick in, and the playful, festive vibe fills the air. You can feel the audience sway with anticipation, and you smile, your mic ready in hand.

‘Think I only want you under my mistletoe.

I might change your contact to “Has a huge North Pole,”

You lean into the light-hearted, flirty tone of the song, weaving your voice through the fun, upbeat rhythm. The holiday bells add a sparkle to the track, making your performance feel like a holiday party. Every line you sing is filled with a blend of mischief and charm, and the cheeky Christmas-themed lyrics keep everyone grinning and tapping along.

You said you like my stockings better on the floor.

Boy, l've been a bad girl, I guess I'm gettin' coal (no).

Lemme come warm you up, you been out in the snow.

Baby, my tongue goes numb, sounds like "ho-ho-ho"

As the chorus hits, you play with the playful nature of the song, giving it a bit of sass while staying in tune with the holiday spirit. You make eye contact with the crowd, as if you’re sharing an inside joke. Each note you hit feels effortless, and the remix’s fun twists on the original song’s lyrics bring a fresh energy to the room.

I don't even know, I'm talkin' Christmas

I'm talkin', I'm talkin' (ah)

I'm talkin' deckin' all the halls, I'm talkin' spikin' eggnog

I'm talkin' opposite of small, I'm talkin' big snowballs.

As you continue singing, the festive mood only grows. The crowd is now fully engaged, swaying and singing along with the infectious, cheeky lyrics. Your voice dances through the light-hearted verses, especially when you hit those playful lines that make the audience chuckle. The jingle bells and upbeat tempo add a sparkle to every word, and you let your personality shine, matching the quirky vibe of the song.

You can’t help but play with the crowd, flashing a grin as you hit the fun twists on holiday references, dropping flirty lines with a wink. As the chorus repeats, you raise your mic toward the audience, inviting them to belt out the words with you. It’s not just a performance—it’s a holiday celebration, and you’re at the center of it. Your confidence grows with each note, feeding off the energy of the room, and by the final line, everyone is wrapped up in the joy and fun of the moment, feeling that special holiday magic you've helped create.

By the end, before you started saying the outro, you could feel the audience wrapped up in the joy of the season and your vibrant performance. You kneeled on the floor besides the crowd:

Tell me is that giant package for me?

Santa's too excited, he came early

Jingle Ball you're so hot I'm not worthy

The screaming was loud, even with the earpiece in. You were smiling so hard, your chest going up and down, your legs feeling like jelly from all the dancing and jumping but you were so freaking happy.

“Thank you so much, New York,” you breathed, blowing kisses left and right. “I hope all of you have a wonderful Christmas and I love you all so, so much. Thank you.”

You bowed before leaving the stage, thanking the band on your way out. You removed your earpiece, still hearing the screams outside. The backstage was a huge mess, with other artists coming at you to say “hi”, and you greeting them back.

Some random man escorted you to your dressing room, and you thought it was weird because usually Grace was the one to do this, but she was probably just busy. Thanking the man, you entered the room, ready to change into some normal, warm clothes because you were freezing—

“Hi, baby.”

Jack was standing in front of you, with his winter jacket and white teeth.

You stopped midway, covering your mouth with your hand.

Jack Hughes was standing in front of you, in the middle of your dressing room.

What.

“Jack?” You asked, even though you were clearly seeing him in front of you. You smiled back, jumping into his arms, happy when he picked you up— you were sweaty from all the dancing but you still squeezed him strongly. “Baby, what are you doing here?”

He held you closer, kissing your temple.

“I don’t know much about this boyfriend thing, but I’m pretty sure a good boyfriend wouldn’t let his girlfriend and her annoying best friend spend Christmas all alone so I thought I’d ask for a few favors.”

“The annoying best friend in question is still in the room, you fuckhead,” you heard Grace’s voice behind you and you removed yourself from Jack’s hold, turning around and facing Grace, who was now smiling back at you. “Surprise, babygirl.”

“Oh, Grace, I love you so much!” You hugged her, kissing her cheeks. “Could kiss you right now!”

“Let’s not do that, right, baby?” Jack pouted behind you, and you giggled. “Save the kisses for your man only.”

“You’re crazy,” you whispered, looking at Jack and then Grace. “Absolutely batshit. What if someone saw you?”

Jack opened his mouth to reply, but Grace was quicker. “Jack was supposed to be here the entire concert, but somehow he convinced the bodyguard to let him watch the show from the pit, and if that wasn’t enough, he took a picture with a fan and the fan’s girlfriend posted it on Twitter. So, yeah,” she shrugged, throwing daggers at Jack with her eyes. “Pretty much everyone knows he’s here.”

You stared at your boyfriend, only to watch him smile naughty. It was clear he didn’t give a fuck about people knowing.

“I wish I could say I knew what to do with you, but I don’t,” you told him, kissing his cheek lightly so that the lipstick wouldn’t smudge. “What about your family?”

“They actually encouraged me to come,” he put his hands inside his pockets. “Ma wanted to send a gigantic apple pie.”

“Let’s call them later, mhm?”

“Sure thing, baby,” he tilts his head, kissing you gently and quickly. “You killed it tonight. My little popstar.”

You blushed and opened your mouth to answer, but Grace was faster— again. “Guys, I’m still here. Please.”

You laughed, hugging her.

“Let’s go home, I’m still jet lagged and so fucking hungry I could eat two entire large pizzas alone.”

“New York pizza sucks, by the way,” Grace added, grabbing your clothes and handing them to you. “Can we have sushi?”

You looked at Jack, silently asking what he thought of it. He just nodded, sitting on the couch and waiting for you to change.

It was going to be a great night.

— ⛄️

“JACK, we shouldn’t be doing this, oh my God, what if I fall, what if I die here—”

You heard Jack’s precious laugh beside you. “You’re not going to die, baby. And if you fall, I’m here to catch you,” he winked at you, and you rolled his eyes, not finding the situation funny at all.

You convinced him to walk around New York, to see the Christmas decorations and drink hot chocolate, but it somehow backfired at you because the minute that man put his eyes on an ice rink, you were done.

You and Jack spent the entire 24th of December sightseeing together. New York was full of people, so you didn’t really bother hiding yourselves.

Grace said she wasn’t going to be the third wheel so she stayed at the hotel. You and Jack walked around, taking pictures and eating food that definitely weren’t in your diet plan but neither of you cared.

At the end of the day, when you were both ready to head back and order takeout, but now, you were both wearing skates.

With Jack skating smoothly beside you while you were holding onto his arm for dear life. The last time you skated on ice you were like twelve years old so your fear was understandable.

He put his hands on your waist, guiding you from behind, not letting you fall. You were still surprised with how secure he was on ice, but then you reminded yourself that he skated more than walked sometimes.

“See? You’re doing great, baby,” he whispered in your ear, and you smiled, feeling proud of yourself; forgetting completely that he was the one doing all the work. “You’re one step away from stealing my job.”

“Shut up,��� you laughed, feeling more certain of your steps now. “This is actually super fun.”

He hums behind you, skating a little bit faster and taking you with him.

You were having so much fun. Jack felt warm beside you and you wanted nothing but to kiss him all the time.

He laughed at your jokes, took dozens of pictures of you, held you the entire time. He listened to your rambling about the lights and how good the city looked.

He bought you doughnuts and hot chocolate, and watched with a funny face as you shoved them in your mouth, only to complain about the hotness of the drink.

“Be careful, baby.” he said, kissing the tip of your cold nose.

“Thank you,” you whispered, giving him a kiss.

He held the side of your face with his right hand, while his left pulled you closer by the waist. You stood on the tip of your toes, trying to match his height. The kiss tasted like chocolate, sugar and something else that you couldn’t remember the name of, but it didn’t matter.

You ended up spending Christmas Eve eating take out inside a hotel room with your best friend and your boyfriend, facetiming your mom and sisters— your nieces loved Jack— and Ellen and Jim— she cooked the gigantic apple pie either way— but you never felt so whole and happy.

If it could get any better than this, you weren’t so sure.

— ♡

liked by njdevils, lhughes_06, canucks and 245,982 others

jackhughes Merry Christmas from soph and I

View all 1,990 comments

sophiamontenegro i love u

nicohischier Finally 🫡

user86 I TOLD YALL WHAAT THEYRE DATING ?!!/!/?/??:

user1 I think imma start doing drugs

user78 How tf did he pull her

user21 The way jack’s feed is hockey hockey brothers hockey and then BOOM famous popstar girlfriend is insane

trevorzegras heartbreaking 💔

jackhughes trevorzegras keep crying

_quinnhughes Congrats, Soph and Jackie! Merry Xmas 🤶

morgan.grace is this the “soft launch” we were talking abt jack😭

jackhughes morgan.grace bullshit

njdevils our future miss HUGHES 💜

user93 who even runs this account lmfao 😭😭😭

user11 we got jack hughes dating before gta6

user12 THEY’RE TOGETHER AGAIN?? WHAT ABT THAT GIRL AVA WHO SAID SHE WAS DATING HIM

user13 user12 she deactivated her account after this post so i can only imagine she was lying 🤷🏽‍♀️

+

[petday]

I make fandom art I make porn I make stuff that makes me miserable and I make stuff that makes me happy and I follow all the advice online but still nobody likes my art. I know it's good art and im not insecure about my talent level but no matter what I post or where I post it, nobody wants to like or interact with my art at all. I know people see it I know people are scrolling past without acknowledging what I make and it fucking sucks. I don't have friends to share stuff I make with and nobody online cares clearly. What do you do when nobody likes you or what you offer.

Good question. This response involves some of my history. I try to talk about my experiences at a comfortable distance. But please skip to the 'Solutions' part if you're bored.

My thoughts below:

It's painful. I have a lot of memories of high intensity pain due to no one engaging with me, at school and online. 'If I live in the same world as others, but it still feels like I am in a world with just myself, what is the point of trying to make things? Sure, I will feel better about myself as I grow, but I've still got no one to grow with, so I am just talking to myself. Amusing myself is fine, but I want to reach a level of fun above amusement, a level that others seem to reach so naturally.' 

In fact, maybe you are less 'outward' with your emotions, but as a child and teenager and young adult, there was a lot of screaming and crying and thrashing about 'not being granted the ability to make things others will seriously engage with me about.' 

(The pain remained after making a few friends during teenage years. The pain's attitude shifted slightly to accommodate this new life change of gaining friends. Much later, even after I became an artist with a large visible number of 'followers/people interested in something you make', the pain shifted its shape around this life change again. "People make bad assumptions of me because I have a big visible number in my profile and most websites do not give me the ability to hide that number." Summary: If your pain/frustration still remains after you gain a friend or find people who engage you, don't beat yourself up. Emotions don't work in such a way that the outcomes you desire are only guaranteed to make you happy and no other emotions will rise.)

Although I loved to look at art on websites since I was a child, one may assume I enjoyed the community aspect. I did, but only as a spectator for the vast majority of the time, since age restrictions and the harsh attitudes that exist to 'prevent the weak from touching the strong' was present in many of the sites I visited. Similar to how children get frustrated when another child cannot keep up with their play, but the child that is 'left out' can still enjoy watching other kids play from afar. It makes perfect sense to me these feelings will always exist in the world no matter what 'social media' websites people invent.

Anyway, two solution attempts in succession I tried over long-term:

1. My first attempt at a solution was immersing myself in a fantasy world I created in my mind and I held my imagination in high esteem. "I know my imagination takes influence from the things I read and admire, so it's not such a lonely world anyway." Creating episode lists of imaginary cartoon episodes and such, so dedicated to something I hardly told anyone about. It felt good. But my friends had original characters too, and they could describe their personalities and dynamics to others naturally and quickly, likely due to their earlier experiences with 'communicating ideas to others.' I was quiet and envious. Although it was fun to play with the imaginary characters in my head, I decided to take another step. Of course I could not simply go back in time to gain the similar social experiences my friends had. But I could use that desire to 'go back in time' to 'go forward in time' and gain the experience.

2. Engage in others first. Because I spent a long time in my imagination, I felt more secure about myself, so I wanted to extend the feeling of 'caring about my own work' to 'caring about others' work on an equal level.' The internet allows you to assess people before engaging to see if your compatibility might be okay. If someone had posts that resonated with me, I tried to say 'hello, I like what you posted/I like your drawing because [...]' Even if the contact ended there, it was a good practice. Gently communicate with people over time. Especially since I am sure there are people who rarely receive questions about their artworks who would love someone to engage with them as well. Of course do not do this in a 'pity' sense – you have to genuinely find something that 'touches your heart' and if the artist seems to not get much curiosity in regards to their art, you can go ahead and try to express your curiosity to them. Keep posting whatever you like, but if you engage with others, you may find someone engaging with you without even expecting it, and that is fun.

(I think society should practice finding genuine value in things they like even if they see nobody has touched it. Not pity, but removing the "does anyone else like this? If I see no one else liking this, it must be a bad thing to like, so I won't engage" attitude. Some of my favourite artwork has maybe 5 visible 'bookmarks/favorites' on an art-focused website.)

[hoonigiris]

JEALOUSY

p. sunghoon x f!reader

0.9k

just silly shenanigans from a chronically jealous guy (he can’t help it he was born this way, just check his birth chart!!!)

“i think i need to lock you up.”

you slide your eyes over to him, exasperated. “what…”

sunghoon mutters under his breath, nodding seriously as he repeats the idea in his head until it sounds more plausible than insane. “yeah…” and then again, softer, “yeah…”

“nurse,” you call out to the empty air, “he’s out again.”

he looks at you gravely, shaking his head. “i think it needs to be done. for the greater good.”

“what am i, rapunzel?”

sunghoon opens his mouth to retort, but the image of you as a princess in that pretty, purple dress has him sidetracked and pondering. “that would be a good couple costume this year—flynn and rapunzel.”

“personally, i was thinking more rapunzel and mother gothel.”

the dreamy look in his eye drops almost immediately, suddenly remembering the reason he burst into the living room in the first place. whatever it was, nothing was worth interrupting you in the middle of a grey’s anatomy episode.

sunghoon moves in front of the tv, feet planted and stance determined. you crane your neck to the side to catch a better look of the screen. “can you move? dr. mcsteamy is in this scene and he’s extra hot this season.”

“wh—listen!”

you roll your eyes, pausing the show. “yes?”

“i’m serious!”

“about mother gothel?”

“about locking you up!”

you tilt your head, innocent. “isn’t that what i just said?”

sunghoon groans loudly, running a hand through his hair and squeezing his eyes shut to fight off an incoming headache. you’d almost feel bad for making his life harder if the threat of imminent captivity wasn’t looming over your head.

but he’s your boyfriend, and he’s obnoxious, and you love him anyway, so you toss the remote on the couch cushion next to you and you give him a smidge of what he wants. you like to call it a pity crumb.

"ok fine, i'll stop teasing," you relent, leaning into the couch with an amused glint in your eye. "why am i under arrest and why is it for the greater good?"

you have some vague idea, of course. any time sunghoon acts like this, the reasoning always lands somewhere around him being jealous, which, as frequent as it comes, is something you’ve learned to take in stride. play dumb, laugh at his antics, give him a kiss, and everything settles back to normal.

the reasoning tended to differ each time, enough to consider creating an encyclopedia page to study from, so you like to make it a game of sorts, to see if you can guess it correctly before he tells you. it’s the closest thing you’ll ever get to the thrill of being on an episode of jeopardy, so you like to relish in the challenge while you can. topic: things that make sunghoon jealous, for 500.

“you’re too…” sunghoon starts, taking you out of your proverbial podium and back to the couch, dr. mcsteamy and mcdreamy blocked behind him. he narrows his eyes, searching for the right word. “unassuming.”

“unassuming,” you repeat, bemused.

"yes." sunghoon knits his brows together, tortured at even the thought. "why else would you have come home with a coffee. from another man."

you look at him quizzically, and then remember how this morning, your classmate who you kept running into every morning at your local cafe offered to buy your drink. you'd accepted, of course; who were you to deny a perfectly innocent gift?

"oh please," you roll your eyes. "he was just being nice! besides, i'm sure he just did it since i helped him finish his lab report on time the other week."

sunghoon frowns. "he was hitting on you. he has motive."

you stare up at him with big, innocent eyes, like a defendant in front of the jury. "how could you ask me to look a gift horse in the mouth... especially when the horse had a cinnamon honey latte."

"because the horse wants to eat you!"

"but it was free!"

sunghoon whips out his phone, tapping a few times, and a ding! sounds from your own phone on the coffee table. you glance over, and try not to laugh.

VENMO sunghoon paid you $6.00 - 😐

"there," he huffs. "if you want free coffee, i'll pay for it from now on, okay?"

you eye him, amused. "if i say yes, will you free me from my predestined shackles?"

he opens his mouth and you can tell by his expression he's about to get started again, so you rescind yourself quickly. "okay, okay. consider it done."

it's sweet, in some way, to have him care this much, even if he makes such a big fuss about it. there's something in his gaze that bleeds earnestness, even through the indignancy, that makes you want to peel him back more. jealousy is an ugly beast, even if you think it looks cute and amusing on him, and often you wonder if it consumes him, if he allows it to lead his thoughts astray.

(it was so easy to fall for you—he couldn’t blame others for doing the same. and if you ended up leaving him for someone else then—well. sunghoon tries to stop it before he gets to that point.)

"hoon," you call gently, and he physically softens at the nickname. you wonder how one word can mean so many things—my love, my heart, my home. all yours. "you know i love you, right?"

he flushes at the sudden confession, ears turning scarlet. and then quietly, sincerely, he mumbles, “i love you too.” perhaps that’s the secret, the reason you can be so flippant about everything, suspiciously free coffee and all.

at the end of the end of the day, you’ll always be his, too.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

A very, very tsundere villian and a sweetheart sunshine hero?

"I used to have panic attacks before fighting you," the hero said quietly. Usually, their therapist was the only person allowed to know those things but the hero figured now that the villain had opened up to them, it was their turn. "I mean, I had panic attacks all the time before fights. Not because it was you but in general."

The villain stared at them curiously.

"I'm sorry," they said.

"It had nothing to do with you. I also used to throw up before exams." The hero smiled, not because it was amusing but because they were embarrassed to tell the villain. "But everyone said I had a gift, that I needed to fight...so, I just...I never told anyone and got to work."

"That sounds horrible," the villain said. "I had no idea."

"Yeah...I learnt to hide it. I was terrified of failing. I was so, so scared." The hero knew the villain wasn't a person of many words. Most of the time, the villain was quietly observing their surroundings. They talked when someone asked, didn't speak their mind, remained secretive. But when they had to, the villain was straightforward and clear.

And now that the hero knew why, they felt like the best comfort they could give them, was to share their fears and open up just like they had.

"What I am trying to say is: we can control some things but most things are out of reach for us. For some things, we are simply not responsible at all. Both of us," the hero said. They smiled and this time, they were truly content. "And look at us. We are doing so well."

"How do you do it?" the villain asked, their voice was softer than so many months ago. "How do you keep going?"

"I have to," the hero said.

"That's not what I asked, though." At that, the hero's smile widened.

"You've always been so direct. I love that about you."

"Ah, I get it," the villain said. They nodded and mirrored the hero's smile - surprisingly so, the hero hadn't seen them smile in a long time. "You're avoiding the discomfort."

"What? No...no, I'm very open to discomfort."

"By ignoring it and putting on a smile?"

"You know what? I don't like it when you ask so many questions." The hero pouted playfully and squeezed their eyes shut. However, they didn't expect the villain to put their arms around their waist and pull them closer. Before the hero even knew it, their chest was against the villain's with the villain's head in the crook of their neck.

"...don't be too mad at me, honey, okay?" they whispered against the hero's ear.

And all the hero could do was stand there. Stand there, pressed against the villain, heart to heart, and wonder how vulnerable they were at the moment. A year ago, the villain would have broken the hero's ribs in a position like this. But the hero didn't feel a trace of anxiety. They welcomed the comfort, enjoyed the presence of someone warm, someone who was thawing bit by bit.

"Are we fucked up?" the hero asked eventually.

"Yeah, a little bit."

"I still like you, though."

"I...I like you too. A lot. Thank you." The hero leaned back to look at them.

"For what?" they asked. They could feel the beat of their heart mercilessly rage in their ribcage. The villain was close, so unbelievably close.

"For showing me that I don't have to be cruel. For everything," they said. "I..."

The hero took the villain's hand and pressed it against their own heart.

"I think I love you," the villain said and the hero understood that the relentless drumming in their chest was not rooted in anxiety, but instead true and genuine happiness. "And...you're not a failure. You've never been. I want to help you. I...god, I am so bad at this."

"No, I understand," the hero said. They pressed a kiss to the villain's cheek. "I understand you perfectly."

And that was the whole point, wasn't it?