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ducktoo · 3 days ago

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Kim Minju x Reader

Note: first 2025 fic legggo! Miss seeing Minju around TT

Kim Minju

The name was practically a brand on its own. She wasn’t just a household name—she was the household name.

Not just in South Korea, but globally—a star whose name was synonymous with elegance, talent, and quiet determination. From her humble beginnings as an idol in a popular girl group to her meteoric rise as an actress, she’d built a career others could only dream of.

Critics raved about her ability to convey raw emotion in dramas that consistently topped ratings, and audiences adored her versatility on the big screen. Whether she was playing a fiery prosecutor in a courtroom thriller or a broken-hearted artist in an indie romance, Minju brought every character to life with a grace that felt effortless.

But behind the glitz and glamour, the award shows and flashing cameras, was a woman who hated doing the dishes and could never fold her laundry properly.

That’s where you came in.

The first time you met Minju, she wasn’t the polished actress everyone else saw. She was a frazzled young woman who had just moved into her first apartment after leaving her group, staring hopelessly at a mountain of cardboard boxes. You had been the part-timer hired by her agency to help her unpack and organize things for a day.

“Hi…I’m Minju,” she’d said with an awkward smile, wearing sweatpants and a messy bun. “I’m really bad at this sort of thing, so... please don’t judge me.”

You’d laughed, her candidness catching you off guard. “Pfff… no judgement…maybe. Just tell me where you want everything.”

One day turned into a week, then a month. By the time she’d landed her breakout role, you’d somehow become a permanent fixture in her life. Officially, you were her house helper—a job that involved cooking, cleaning, and occasionally wrangling her into her hectic schedules. Unofficially, you were her confidant, her sounding board, and her backup alarm clock when she hit snooze too many times.

It wasn’t glamorous work, but it was steady, and it let you witness a side of Minju no one else saw. The Minju who ate ramen straight out of the pot at 3 a.m., who cried over cheesy romance movies, and who practiced her lines in front of the bathroom mirror with more passion than she ever showed on set.

Although…you weren’t sure when your job title had expanded to include helping her choose a husband.

“Y/n, do you think this looks good on me?”

Her voice drifts from the walk-in closet, soft yet commanding, the kind of tone that doesn’t allow for a half-hearted response. You glance up from the laundry pile you’ve been folding for the past twenty minutes, catching sight of Minju stepping into the room in a pale blue dress.

It fits her perfectly, accentuating her delicate frame without being overly flashy. If anything, the dress looks like it was made for her. But you’ve learned to temper your words around her. Minju doesn’t need flattery—she needs honesty.

“It looks…good,” you say simply, folding another shirt with mechanical precision.

She frowns, turning back to the mirror. “Just good?”

You pause, trying not to sigh. “Fine…It looks great. You could wear a potato sack and still outshine half the world.”

Minju’s lips curve into a small smile, but it fades quickly as she smooths the fabric over her hips. “It’s not about outshining anyone, Y/n. I need to look like someone who’s ready to settle down. Someone... wife-like.”

"Pff…his clothes won't be folded anytime soon."

"Yaaaaaa" Minju whined, but the tone remains light.

Despite the teasing, the word wife hangs in the air between you, heavy and unspoken. You focus on the shirt in your hands, folding it once, then twice, before placing it neatly on the pile.

“I think you’re overthinking it,” you say, your voice steady despite the subtle tension building in your chest. “If a guy can’t see you are wife material, that’s on him, not your dress.”

Her head turns sharply, eyes narrowing. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one being paraded around like a prize at an auction.”

“That’s a little dramatic,” you reply, finally meeting her gaze.

“Is it?” she shoots back, her hands planted firmly on her hips now. “I’ve got a dinner tomorrow with some CEO my manager thinks is perfect for me. Perfect age, perfect background, perfect everything. But do you know what’s not perfect?”

“Your minju ga tto moments?” you suggest, unable to resist a smirk.

“You,” she huffs, throwing a pillow at you. You catch it effortlessly, placing it on top of the laundry pile as if it belongs there.

“You’re the worst house helper ever” she mutters, but there’s no venom in her tone.

“I’m your only house helper,” you correct, standing and stretching your arms over your head. “And I’d argue I’m doing a pretty decent job.”

“Debatable,” she mumbles, turning back to the mirror. She’s quiet for a moment, her reflection deep in thought. Then, as if deciding something monumental, she spins back around.

“You’re coming with me tomorrow.”

You blink. “…What the f*ck?”

“To the dinner. You’re coming with me,” she repeats, crossing her arms like it’s already decided.

“Minju, I think you’re confusing me with your manager—”

“No, I’m not.” Her voice softens, but her eyes stay locked on yours. “I need someone there who’ll actually tell me what they think. Someone who’s not afraid to call out nonsense when they see it.”

“Right. And…you’re asking me?”

“Exactly.”

“I’m not exactly the type to blend in with high society,” you point out, gesturing to your worn-out hoodie and jeans. “They’ll take one look at me and think you brought your assistant as a pity date.”

“First of all, you don’t look that bad,” she says, her lips twitching in amusement. “And second, I don’t care what they think. You’ll just sit there, eat your food, and occasionally tell me if the guy is worth my time.”

You open your mouth to protest again, but the determination in her eyes stops you. She’s already made up her mind.

“Fine,” you relent, leaning back against the couch. “But I'm sitting nearby, not at your table."

"Nope." Minju demanded. Her lips loudly popped the 'p'. "You're sitting with me, hon."

You could only sighed at her antics. "…don’t blame me if I scare him off.”

Her smile returns, small but genuine. “That’s exactly why I’m bringing you.”

The restaurant feels like a different universe, the kind of place where the chandeliers probably cost more than your yearly rent. As you step inside, you’re painfully aware of how out of place you look, despite Minju’s efforts to make you “presentable.”

The tailored suit she picked out for you fits fine, but the collar feels like it’s choking you, and the tie might as well be a noose. You tug at it instinctively, only to have Minju swat your hand away.

“Stop fidgeting,” she whispers, her voice low but firm.

“Ya, it feels like I’m wearing a straightjacket,” you mutter under your breath, glancing around at the other patrons. Everyone looks like they stepped out of a luxury magazine, and you feel like an impostor sneaking into their world.

Minju sighs, looping her arm through yours as she steers you toward the table. “You’re fine. Just... don’t embarrass me.”

“That’s a tall order,” you joke, earning a glare that makes you straighten up immediately.

As you approach the table, the man—Jae, or whatever his name was—stands to greet her. His suit is sharp, his smile even sharper, and he exudes the kind of confidence that comes from always being the most important person in the room.

Minju is poised as always, but you can tell she’s studying him with the precision of someone trained to spot subtleties. Her eyes flick to his tailored suit—dark, impeccably fitted, clearly custom-made. His watch glints under the low lighting, its sleek design screaming exclusivity. She notices how his shoes are polished to a mirror shine, a detail she quietly admires, though it’s more the habit of presentation than the man himself that earns her approval.

Her gaze lingers on his face for a moment longer. He’s conventionally handsome, with sharp cheekbones and a jawline so chiseled it seems engineered. His skin is flawless, either naturally or through an aggressive skincare regimen, and his neatly styled hair has the kind of sheen that comes from salon-grade products.

But it’s his smile that makes her hesitate. It’s too practiced, too polished. The way his lips curve feels less like an expression of genuine emotion and more like a calculated performance. Minju can’t quite put her finger on it, but something about him feels... rehearsed.

“Minju,” he says, his voice smooth, “you’re even more stunning than I imagined.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Great start, mister.

Minju smiles politely. “Thank you. This is Y/n, my house helper and friend.”

Jae’s gaze flickers to you, and his smile tightens ever so slightly. “Ah, I see.”

You shake his hand, trying not to let his patronizing tone get under your skin. “Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s mine,” he replies, though you’re pretty sure he doesn’t mean it.

You sit down, carefully unfolding your napkin and placing it on your lap like Minju instructed. It’s a small gesture, but it feels absurdly formal. The waiter arrives almost immediately to take your drink orders, and Jae doesn’t even glance at the menu before ordering an expensive bottle of wine.

“Water’s fine for me,” you say, earning a subtle nudge from Minju under the table.

As the evening progresses, you can’t help but feel like a fish out of water. The silverware is arranged in a way that makes no sense to you, and you’re pretty sure you’ve been holding your fork wrong the entire time.

Jae, on the other hand, seems completely at ease, dominating the conversation with tales of his business ventures and luxury vacations.

“And of course,” Jae says, swirling his wine glass like he’s performing for an invisible audience, “I make it a point to give back. Philanthropy is very important to me.”

“That’s wonderful,” Minju says, her voice even.

You nod along, keeping your expression neutral even though every word out of his mouth makes you want to groan.

“So, Y/n,” Jae says suddenly, turning his attention to you for the first time all night. “What do you do besides housekeeping?”

“I’m Minju’s househelper…just housekeeper yeah.” you reply, keeping your tone polite.

He nods slowly, his smile almost condescending. “That’s... noble. It must be fulfilling to work for someone like her.”

“It is,” you say simply, ignoring the way his words make your stomach twist. "She's a good person to work for…"

Minju shifts uncomfortably, clearly picking up on the tension. “Y/n isn’t just my househelper,” she says, her tone sharp. “They’ve been with me for years. I trust them more than anyone.”

Her words catch you off guard, and you glance at her, surprised. There’s a sincerity in her voice that makes your chest tighten.

Jae, however, seems unfazed. “Of course,” he says smoothly. “Loyalty is such a rare quality these days.”

As he speaks, his voice is smooth, his words carefully measured to sound charming without crossing into arrogance. She notices how he holds her gaze just long enough to seem interested but shifts his focus to his wine glass in a way that feels almost dismissive. It’s subtle, but Minju catches it.

She always catches the subtleties.

Still, she plays along. She smiles when he compliments her, nods when he launches into a monologue about his career—something to do with technology and blockchain, and asks polite questions to keep the conversation flowing. But every now and then, her gaze drifts to you. You’re sitting stiffly, your hands clasped in your lap, your eyes darting between the silverware and your plate like you’re trying to decode a secret message.

“And of course, we’re always looking for ways to innovate,” Jae says, swirling his wine like he’s in a movie. “The future is all about disruption.”

“Disruption?” you echo, raising an eyebrow. “Sounds... interesting.”

Jae chuckles, a sound that grates on your nerves. “Yes, yes! It’s about breaking the norms, you know? Creating new opportunities.”

“Right,” you say, leaning back in your chair. “Like disrupting this conversation with a sales pitch?”

Minju chokes on her sip of wine, quickly covering her mouth with a napkin. Jae’s smile falters for a moment before he recovers.

“Well, I wouldn’t call it a sales pitch,” he says, forcing a laugh. “I’m just passionate about what I do.”

“I can see that,” you reply, your tone flat.

Minju shoots you a warning look, but there’s a flicker of amusement in her eyes. You force a smile, resisting the urge to continue your sarcastic run.

For Minju’s sake, you bite your tongue and focus on the plate in front of you.

The meal itself is exquisite, but you’re too preoccupied to enjoy it. Every detail of the restaurant—from the pristine tablecloths to the hushed murmurs of other diners—feels like a reminder that you don’t belong here. But every time you catch Minju glancing at you, her expression soft with gratitude, it feels worth it.

She’s trying to hide her discomfort with Jae when she turned her attention back to him, but you can see it in the way her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. And that’s enough to keep you on your best behaviour, no matter how much you want to call him out on his smugness.

When Jae leans in to comment on the wine selection, Minju notes the way his cologne—a sophisticated, woody scent—lingers in the air. It’s pleasant, but it doesn’t linger with her the way simpler, more familiar things do. Like the faint scent of laundry detergent you carry when you come in from running errands, or the sharp tang of cleaning supplies after you’ve wiped down the counters.

She glances at him again, taking in the way he gestures with his hands—broad, sweeping movements that seem designed to command attention. He’s polished, no doubt about that. But Minju’s gut tells her that beneath the polish, there’s something... hollow.

By the time dessert arrives, you’ve somehow managed to keep your composure. Minju excuses herself to the restroom, leaving you alone with Jae.

“So,” he says, swirling the last of his wine, “you must see a lot, working for Minju. I imagine it’s quite the experience.”

“It is,” you reply, keeping your tone neutral.

He smirks, leaning back in his chair. “You’re lucky, you know. Not many people get to be so close to someone like her.”

Your grip on your fork tightens, but you force a smile. “You’re right. I am lucky.”

Minju returns moments later, her presence immediately easing the tension. She glances between the two of you, her brows furrowing slightly. “Everything okay?”

“Perfect,” you say, standing to help her with her chair. “Just perfect.”

As the evening progresses, it becomes increasingly clear that Jae is more interested in talking about himself than getting to know Minju. He interrupts her stories to share his own, checks his phone under the table, and even orders dessert without asking if she wanted any.

“Minju,” he says at one point, leaning forward with what you’re sure he thinks is a charming smile, “I have to say, you’re even more beautiful in person than you are on screen.”

“Thank you,” she replies, her smile tight.

“And I’m sure someone like you must have a very busy schedule,” he continues. “But if we were together, I’d make sure you had time to relax. Maybe even a vacation. The private villa I mentioned would be perf-”

“Excuse me, but what’s your favourite film of hers?” you interrupt, cutting him off mid-sentence.

Jae blinks, caught off guard. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve been talking about how amazing Minju is,” you say, folding your arms on the table, “so I’m curious. What’s your favourite film of hers?”

Minju turns to you, her eyes wide with surprise.

“Well, uh...” Jae stammers, clearly scrambling. “There are so many great ones, it’s hard to choose.”

“Come on, Just pick one,” you press, leaning in slightly.

He clears his throat, his confidence wavering. “I think the one where she plays that, uh, spy? You know, the action movie.”

Minju tilts her head. “I’ve…never played a spy.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

“Oh, right,” Jae says quickly, laughing nervously. “I must’ve been thinking of someone else.”

You sit back, biting back a laugh. “Right, understandable. That's…a good suggestion for her next role.”

Minju also bit her lip, trying—and failing—not to laugh.

By the time you leave the restaurant, Jae’s enthusiasm has dwindled significantly. He bids Minju a somewhat awkward goodbye, promising to call, though you suspect she won’t answer.

Back at the house, Minju lets out a heavy sigh, kicking off her heels and tossing them unceremoniously by the door. “Well, that was a disaster,” she groans, plopping onto the couch with an exaggerated huff.

“You’re welcome,” you reply dryly, loosening the tie she forced you into. The thing’s been choking you all evening, but at least the dinner’s over. "Far out, this is choking me."

She shoots you a glare, though it lacks any real bite. “You didn’t have to roast the guy alive.”

“What? I was just asking innocent questions,” you say, shrugging nonchalantly as you loosen another button on your shirt. “If he can’t even name one of your works, he’s not worth your time.”

Minju groans again, pulling a throw pillow into her lap. “Maybe I’m just not meant to find someone. This is the fifth disaster in a row.”

The vulnerability in her voice makes your chest ache. You look over at her, noticing the way her shoulders slump and how she’s hugging the pillow like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded.

“Aish, you’ll find someone,” you say quietly, trying to sound reassuring but feeling like your words are hollow. “It’s not like you’re in a rush, right?”

She turns to you, her expression unreadable. “What if I’ve already found them?”

You blink. “What? Who? I kept track and you crossed all of them.”

“Well what if…the person I’ve been looking for has been here all along?” she says, her voice soft but steady, her gaze locked onto yours.

"Minju," you repeat, but it comes out like a plea. "The heck you're saying?"

She sits up, crossing her legs beneath her, and shifts closer to you. The pillow falls forgotten onto the floor as she leans in, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

"Why do you think I’ve been dragging you to these dinners?" she asks softly.

"Uh…" You blink again, trying to piece together her meaning. "…Because you wanted my opinion on these guys?"

She shakes her head, a small, almost rueful smile tugging at her lips. "No, stupid. Because I wanted you to tell me they weren’t good enough for me. I wanted you to realize that no one else could ever measure up to you."

Your brain screeches to a halt. You can feel your face heating up, the familiar panic rising in your chest. “Uh... sure, yeah,” you stammer, scratching the back of your neck. “I-I mean, you’ve got me and all, but I don’t think I’d make a great husband. I can’t even fold fitted sheets properly.”

“Y/n, I’m serious.”

“Right, serious.” You laugh nervously, trying to deflect. “Well, you know what they say, the best relationships start with someone who knows how to fix your coffee machine when it breaks—”

“Jung Y/n.”

Her voice is firm this time, and it stops your rambling dead in its tracks. She shifts closer, her hand reaching out to rest on top of yours. The warmth of her touch sends a jolt through you, and you freeze like a deer caught in headlights.

“Kim Minju,” you say, your voice cracking slightly as you clear your throat. “You’re tired. It’s been a long day. Maybe sleep on this whole ‘husband-hunting’ thing, and tomorrow you’ll realize it was just—”

“It’s not ‘just.’” Her grip tightens, her eyes glistening with something you can’t quite name. “You’ve always been here for me. You know me better than anyone else, and you make me feel... safe. Like I don’t have to pretend to be anything other than myself.”

You swallow hard, feeling like your heart is about to beat out of your chest. “Minju, I... Look, you deserve someone who can give you the world. I’m just your househelper. The person who unclogs your sink when it’s backed up with hair.”

She laughs softly, shaking her head. “You’re more than that, and you know it.”

“Do I?” you blurt out, your voice louder than intended. “Because honestly, I’ve been trying to keep my distance for ages. You’re—you’re Kim Minju. Successful, gorgeous, amazing Minju. And me? I’m just—”

“Mine,” she interrupts, her voice barely a whisper.

That one word makes your entire argument crumble. You sit there, stunned, as she inches closer, her eyes searching yours.

"…Fair move, damn it." You muttered, ignoring the rapid beating of your hearts and the continuous butterfly in your stomach.

“So…are you really going to make me spell it out?” she teases, though her voice is laced with emotion.

You let out a nervous laugh, your hands fidgeting in your lap. “Well, I do like it when people are straightforward, so maybe a—”

Her lips meet yours before you can finish your sentence. It’s soft, tentative, and completely disarming. Your mind goes blank, every sarcastic comeback dying on your tongue.

When she pulls away, her cheeks are flushed, but her eyes are steady. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“I—uh—” You blink rapidly, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “Yeah, no big deal. Happens all the time. People confess their undying love to their house helpers every day.”

Minju giggles, leaning her forehead against yours. “You’re so stupid.”

“Yeah, but you’re still here,” you mutter, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Always,” she whispers.

Her fingers lace with yours, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself believe. You let yourself hope. Because the real one wasn’t someone Minju needed to find—it was someone who had always been beside her, waiting.

And now, finally, she’s chosen you.

#izone fluff #izone x reader #minju #kim minju #minju x reader #izone minju #x reader #kim minju x reader

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hyperfocusthusly · 1 day ago

Text

Lifelines

——-

Tommy had been staring at his phone, typing out a message, an apology, anything. He always ends up deleting it. Over and over, so when it actually rings in his hand he almost drops it. The news hits him like a train, pushes everything else to the background.

His sister is dead. Her and her husband, car accident, didn’t stand a chance.

The flight is bad, the funeral worse and then someone from social services shows up with a baby he met once when she was newborn and only really recognises from pictures. The woman hands him a 6 month old child and explains that this is what they wanted. The will stipulated that he would be their guardian in such a circumstance.

He stares at her tiny face. She stares back.

He shuts the door and wonders how anyone could think this was the right choice.

——-

He has to tell his Captain. He chooses to tell Lucy. He distinctly chooses not to tell anyone else.

——-

Babies are hard, as it turns out. There’s no room for grief with an insistent baby taking up every waking second. No rest from being relentlessly needed. No telling her she’d be better off without him.

He thinks about calling.

While he watches her crawl down his hallway after a woodlouse, pointing insistently, letting out an excited little “ah!” as the bug in question scuttles under the shoe rack. She follows it carefully, watching with an intense curiosity that makes something churn deep inside Tommy’s chest.

He thinks about calling.

The first time she gets a fever and won’t settle unless she’s upright on his chest. It’s not the first time Tommy has gone 24 hours without sleep but it feels worse. His nerves scraped raw from her distress. His hand on her back counting her breaths over and over. He thinks about calling.

But what could he possibly say?

——-

The secrecy works until it doesn’t. Until the morning that Chimney is stood in the local doctor’s car park watching Tommy, darker eyed and more scruffy, strap an 8 month old into a seat in the back of his truck. Tommy doesn’t see him, or hear Jee whisper “is that Uncle Tommy daddy? Is that his baby?”

——-

It’s how Chimney ends up stood outside of Tommy’s door one lunchtime. He isn’t home but Chimney knows he needs to wait. He knows what trying to handle a baby that age by yourself is like.

When Tommy gets home and sees who is waiting for him Chimney has to give him credit for actually pulling into the driveway rather than continuing in the opposite direction.

Tommy gets out of the car, Chimney doesn’t miss the moment he takes to collect himself before looking up to him.

“What are you doing here Howie?” He sounds ragged.

“Just checking in, two months is too long, I’m sure someone owes someone a beer.”

He goes for light hearted, trying to ease out some of the tension that has appeared in Tommy’s stance. He is hovering by the back door of his truck, fingers tucked into the door handle, endlessly thankful that she closed her eyes and fell asleep on the drive home. Something hovers in the air between them until Chimney takes a step forward.

“I saw you at the doctor’s last week.” Tommy’s brows crease slightly, then pull back as he realises what Chimney is actually telling him.

“Are you going to hide her from me forever?” Tommy looks relieved somehow, less trapped. He shakes his head and carefully takes her out of the car. Settling her into the crook of his arm and pulling her diaper bag over his shoulder.

“I don’t really drink beer too much anymore.”

“A coffee then?”

“Yeah.” He swallows nervously, tries not to let the implications of this meeting, and the conversation he knows is coming, get to him. “I could do with a coffee.”

—-

[read on A03]

Tagging some people who interacted with my abstract post about this (hope you enjoy!🫶🏻);

@leashybebes @beanarie @accefan-blog @big-urchin-energy @loucifersbitch @fyrehose @evansbuck-ley @sad-girl-hours23 @certifiedbisexualdisaster @theweewooshow @beckym2001 @kinardevans

And also some beloved pals;

@bidisasterevankinard @rubydaiquiri @sweaters-and-silly @apassingbird @sunnywithachanceofbi @theotherbuckley @desert--moonchild @comfortingevanbuckley @livelaughlou @epiphainie @actuallyitsellie @typicalopposite @wikiangela @bi-bi-buckleys @littlepaws9 @ohithankyou

#ahhhhh #not this silly little idea that took root #also accepting any suggestions for names #me with a megaphone: name! that! baby!#there will be more #but for all those who asked ye shall receive #single dad Tommy fic #life line #my post #my writing #bucktommy #(eventually)#tommy kinard #911 #911 fanfic #chimney han #bucktommy fanfic

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lemonlover1110 · 19 hours ago

Text

𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐚

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 1] Indecent Proposal

Story Masterlist

Pairing: Knight!Toji Fushiguro x Princess!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Suggestive Content, Minor Sex Talk

Story Summary: This is what'll get Toji killed... But how can he reject her when she looks up at him with such beautiful eyes? A man that's been to war won't be killed by the edge of a sword but rather the lips of a woman.

He shouldn’t lay a finger on her, but he’ll do anything that she asks him to. She’s his princess, he has to follow her every word.

No taglist

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi - Bluesky

“Toji!” You yell from the top of your lungs, and the man that stands outside your door can’t help but sigh. He knocks on the door of your room, only for you to yell some obscenities. He rolls his eyes before opening the door.

What a kind and proper princess. He’s won wars only to deal with this. The scars on his body mean nothing. Protecting the princess should be of the highest honor– If only she weren’t such a brat.

“What, princess?” He questions as his eyes widen. It should be no shocker to find you underdressed, but he can’t help but be surprised each and every time. You truly don’t view him as a man.

“Help me with the corset.” You order as his eyes land on your maid. The woman has stepped aside to let him take charge.

“Isn’t it tight enough?” He questions, seeing how tight it looks. It looks proper enough, but it seems that you want it to suffocate you. Your request alone tells him where you’re going tonight.

“Get to work.” You tell him, not answering his question. He’s right, it is tight enough, but it could be tighter. Toji grabs the strings on the back and you hold your breath as he pulls. Tonight is going to be long, but it’ll all be worth it.

“Where are we going?” He foolishly asks, as if he didn’t know. You’re trying to see those who you call friends. The ones that snicker when you turn your back to them.

“Did you forget, Toji?” You ask as he pulls some more. He furrows his eyebrows, trying to recall what’s happening tonight. There’s no response from him, letting you know that he’s completely forgotten. “My engagement party.”

“Of course, finally.” He responds. “You’re finally meeting the prince that I’ve been hearing nonstop about for–”

“He isn’t here.” You cut him off, leaving the man at a loss for words. An engagement party with no groom, what else did Toji expect from royalty? “He couldn’t make it tonight so we’re moving on without him.”

“Will this happen at the wedding too?” Toji mutters, something that your keen hearing picks up on. And you just can’t keep your mouth quiet about it, you have to say something.

“Shut up, Toji. What do peasants even know about weddings?” You roll your eyes before they fall on your maid. You mouth an apology to her for your comment; it’s meant to offend Toji, not her.

The old woman laughs, finding the bickering as a great source of entertainment. She got annoyed with it at first, but after two years of watching it happen before her eyes, she’s grown fond of it. It’s nice to see you get along with someone that’s just not her. Maybe getting along isn’t the right phrase to describe your relationship with Toji, but she’s not sure how else to put it.

“Do you think we get married in a pig’s sty or what?” Toji questions as he lets you go, patting your back twice to let you know that he’s done.

“Yes. In a place full of shit and with loud animals.” You add, making Toji scoff. In a way, Toji should be honored. You don’t speak to anyone else like this.

“Just shout my name if you need anything else.” He responds, something that he shouldn’t even bother saying since that’s what’ll happen anyway. Your voice stops him before he can walk out the door.

“Emerald uniform tonight.” You remind him, and he hums in response. An improper response, but proper for an improper princess.

“Toji.” The man hears from a sweet familiar voice. He’s hiding in the kitchen, filling his stomach up before the engagement party tonight. He already feels it in his veins, tonight will be interminable.

“Hanako, can I help you?” Toji asks as he stuffs his mouth with a crab cake. Kitchen staff have slapped his hand one too many times tonight, but he still manages to sneak some food in. “Does the princess need me?”

“The kitchen staff told me to come here to drag you away.” Your old maid tells him, making him click his tongue. He can’t even enjoy a proper meal in the damned castle.

“I’m just having a short meal before watching over the brat and her friends tonight.” Toji’s words are barely comprehensible with all the food in his mouth.

“Do not refer to the princess as a brat.” Hanako slaps the back of his head, making the man whine. Who thought that such an old woman could have such a firm hand? “She is a very kind woman, do not speak like that about her.”

“Why does the princess hate me then?” He questions, his hand rubbing the spot that Hanako hit.

“The princess does not hate you.” She responds, and he rolls his eyes.

Right, is that why you insult him so much? Toji doesn’t care enough about it, but he does notice how you treat him differently from everyone else. You’re kind to everyone in your surroundings— Whether they’re royalty or the help. But Toji? He’s a whole different story.

“Then why does she act the way she does?” He asks, and the old woman can’t help but chuckle. She should keep her mouth quiet about it, but there’s no harm in it. You’ll be getting married soon.

“Well, dear, don’t tell anyone else this but…” She begins, looking around the kitchen. Everyone is too worried about making a feast, that they aren’t paying attention. She still does lower her voice before confessing to him, “The princess has a tiny crush on you, and she isn’t a woman that’s in touch with her feelings.”

His eyes widen as his lips turn into a straight line. The old woman is messing with him… He didn’t expect it from Hanako of all people, but he’s been proven wrong.

“A crush, huh? Don’t lie to me, old woman.” Toji’s words earn him another slap, this time on his forehead. He whines again, rubbing that spot as he tells her, “You have such a firm hand…”

“Respect your elders.” She tells him, hand wrapping around his wrist to drag him out of the kitchen. He should fight it, but he knows better than to argue with the elderly.

“Toji…” Toji’s sick of hearing his name, and the night is far from over… How could he forget that the engagement party is tonight?

His eyes fall on Mayu, a maid that works closely with him in the castle. She smiles brightly at Toji, a man that can’t return the sentiment. He’s exhausted to say the least.

“Hi, Mayu.” He greets her, not caring to look twice at her. She’s a nice girl that keeps Toji company whenever he’s not watching after a certain someone that makes him want to rip his hair out. However, whenever he’s working he’s not all that interested in her.

“The emerald uniform tonight, huh? The princess insisted that everyone wears this awful color.” The woman laughs, hoping that Toji joins in, but his mind is elsewhere. Toji ponders on the old woman’s comment– A crush on him? She’s turning senile.

“The princess gets what she wants.” He replies, making Mayu hum in response. She keeps trying to make conversation with him, but it’s obvious that the man doesn’t care enough. He zones out for a minute, in which he realizes that she’s still talking.

“So I was wondering…” She begins, and he raises his eyebrow. “Will you–”

“Toji!” She’s interrupted before she can ask her question. She rolls her eyes, realizing that it’s by none other than the woman herself. Her eyebrows furrow when she sees the man’s reaction. His jaw nearly drops as he realizes why you’ve chosen emerald of all colors for tonight, luckily, he manages to remain his composure.

“What is it, princess?” Toji responds, while Mayu begins to walk away. You walk over to him, looking both ways to see if you spot the old woman.

“Have you seen Hanako? She’s supposed to help me get ready.” You ask him as he looks you up and down. He’s almost checking you out– But oh, your father would tear him to shreds.

“You look ready to me. Certainly not how I found you earlier.” He answers, and a frown comes to your face. That wasn’t the question you asked, so why is he answering like that?

“Answer my question, Toji.” You tell him, which ends up with him shrugging.

“Don’t know. Last time we talked, she was dragging me out of the kitchen.” He informs you, making you laugh as you shake your head disappointedly.

“When do you not think about eating?” You point out, and he puts his hands up defensively.

“I wouldn’t be this hungry if you fed me.” He argues, making you click your tongue.

“You’re a big boy, you can feed yourself.” You argue back, and he gives you a peculiar look before clearing his throat.

“Touché, princess. Next time I’ll leave my post to get myself some food.” He replies, speaking to you as if he’s won the argument. However, there’s no way to win an argument if you’re involved.

“You know you can leave without an issue.” You tell him, which makes him cross his arms. You stare at each other for a minute before he reminds you,

“Your father would kill me.”

“I don’t need protection all day every day.” You respond.

“Your father would kill me.” He emphasizes, making you scoff. He’s won, but you’d never admit it.

“I’ll feed you, just help me put on my necklace.” You say, and he has no other option but to follow behind you. He’s no longer hungry, but it’s not like he has the option to refuse to help you.

Toji stands in the doorway, watching as you rummage to find the necklace you’re wearing tonight. Knowing you, you probably lost it in a matter of hours. It’s funny, you have so much that you hold little regard to a piece of jewelry that could secure the stability and wellbeing of a village.

Luck is really a hilarious concept. You have everything while so many struggle to survive. Not only wealth, but the looks and intelligence that many people lack. Your only downside is that you’re a damned brat, but even poor people can act like you do. Maybe that’s why you annoy Toji so easily, you have nearly everything a person could ask for, yet you fail to realize it.

“Bingo!” You exclaim, proudly holding up the velvety black box. You walk over towards Toji, and hand it to him. He scoffs, when you fail to open the box, which is the simplest task that he can think of.

His eyes glimmer when he opens the box, admiring the beautiful stones that will adorn your neck tonight. No farmer will ever see this much money in their lifetime, let alone hold it in their hands like Toji is right now. He can’t ponder on that thought though, there’s nothing he can do about it.

That’s just the way life is.

He takes the necklace and puts it on your neck, his big fingers struggling with the small clasp. He mutters a few curses under his breath, causing you to laugh. Toji rarely struggles on a task, and apparently, this is one of them.

“You know, I can save you a dance if you’d like.” You say out of the blue, trying to make conversation to fill in the gaps of silence. You know Toji enough to know that he’ll reject it, but maybe just maybe, tonight he’ll change his mind.

“I have two left feet.” He answers, making you chuckle. You should’ve expected as much– At least this time around he didn’t bring up how inappropriate it’d be, and how he’s just the protection. Toji finally gets the necklace on.

“Luckily for you, I have two right feet so I balance it out.” You respond, turning around and grabbing his hands. He’s quick to retract them from your grasp. Toji likes to play it safe. Once upon a time, he was completely different but once upon a time he didn’t work in the castle.

“A proper princess such as yourself shall not dance with a peasant.” He’s using the various arguments he’s heard throughout the years against you, and he can tell that you’re not exactly pleased with it. You puff out a breath, crossing your arms.

“Suit yourself.” You say, walking out of the room to which he’s forced to follow. “Just so you know, that was a once in a lifetime offer. I’ll never ask you to dance with me again.”

“I won’t be missing out.” He comments, making you momentarily glare at him. At that moment he thinks of the old woman’s words again… A crush? Maybe she isn’t as senile as he thought.

“Toji.” The same soft voice from earlier calls out his name, and he rolls his eyes. It’s nothing against Mayu, she’s a sweet girl, Toji is just sick of hearing the stupid name over and over again. He doesn’t even like it, so why do people love to say it?

He looks around the ballroom, excessively decorated just for one night. The palace is always clean, and decorated but never this pristine. There’s flowers in every corner and he swears he sees his reflection on the floor. There’s a massive orchestra performing for the guests, playing music that can bore him to death.

The castle almost looks lively. Almost.

“What is it?” He sounds annoyed. He’s just standing in the corner, waiting for the princess to make her grand entrance before he’s allowed to take a break. The place is going to be filled with guards, he’s not needed until you decide to leave.

“I was wondering if you’d… Like to dance with me after all of these guests leave?” She looks down at the ground in shame, quickly regretting the question. He should be the one to ask, but she knows that he’d never step up and do it. She just assumes that it just isn’t the type of guy Toji is.

“After the orchestra leaves? With what music?” Toji responds, and she bites down her lip. She never really thought about that.

“Perhaps the princess will give us a chance to dance. It is courting season.” She says, making Toji chuckle. It’s not for the reason she thinks though.

“Courting season is for noblewomen.” He reminds her, a rather harsh reminder. Maybe in another life she’ll be born as the princess, but she certainly doesn’t have that sort of luck this time around.

“Right.” She subtly nods, disappointed by the answer. She bites down her lip, looking around the place. She tries to change the topic to something that Toji would be more willing to talk about, “Is the princess being insufferable today?”

She’s met by a cold gaze, and she just wants to dig a hole and crawl in it. Nothing she says or does impresses him. She should know better than to try.

“Hey, Toji…” She mutters again, just as you make your grand entrance. The way his pupils dilate as he watches you come down the stairs. There’s no change in facial expression, but his eyes are a dead giveaway.

She’s ignored, but she doesn’t try again. She won’t compete with a princess. Toji will eventually crawl to her. One morning he’ll wake up and realize that he’ll never be accepted into royalty.

His eyes are dead set on you, as you begin to dance with your father. The first dance should be for your fiancé… Yet, the man isn’t here. Toji wonders what the point of an engagement party is if your fiancé isn’t here. You’ll just stand in a corner, and watch everyone dance whilst the jealous nobles speak ill of you.

He’s noticed that everything the royals do is for show. Otherwise, this engagement party would’ve been canceled.

“I’m taking my break.” Mayu comments, something that falls on deaf ears again. Toji should leave behind Mayu, but he keeps staring at you. He’s watching as you walk over to the group of women that you call your friends.

Toji rolls his eyes before following Mayu, deciding that he won’t watch you make a fool of yourself tonight.

“Toji.” He’s nearly drooling on the kitchen table, his drowsiness getting the best of him. He doesn’t know whether he wants to kill them or thank them for waking him up; he guesses it’s the latter since he’s still on duty. He doesn’t want to be caught slacking off, especially not by–

“Princess?! What are you doing back here?” His eyes snap wide open at the realization that it’s you. At least it’s not the king. You won’t get him in trouble for sleeping. A big yawn escapes his lips before he asks, “Aren’t you supposed to be dancing the night away?”

“You know…” You begin, taking a seat with him on the table. He notices the spark in your eyes is gone, knowing that it’s all because of your friends. They said something and now you’re here, instead of enjoying your engagement party. “An engagement party isn’t all that fun when your fiancée isn’t there.”

“Well, I’m sure he had a great reason.” Another yawn escapes Toji’s lips as he tries to reassure you. It’s not late or anything, the day just tires you out when all you hear is your name being called over and over again.

“I wouldn’t know myself.” You awkwardly chuckle, and now he knows the talking point of the evening. He doesn’t know how, but the women manage to get under your skin. You just seek approval from everyone, perhaps it’s because you don’t have many friends.

“If it helps, I have a huge sword that can take care of the problem.” Toji jokes, but you furrow your eyebrows. You have no idea what he’s talking about, and he won’t explain himself either. He clears his throat before asking, “Do you want to take a walk?”

“Yeah.” You end up agreeing, standing up from your chair. He walks behind you as you look for an exit, which ends up on him grabbing your hand and leading you to the outside. You’ve lived in this castle for over twenty years, yet he knows the place better than you. It’s good that he’s by your side, because you’d be lost otherwise.

You can still hear the music from the orchestra inside, the sound becoming faint as you walk further away. You might not know your way inside, but you know the walk straight to the garden from anywhere.

Toji won’t speak unless he’s spoken to, that’s his role.

“Do you think it’s dumb to marry someone you don’t know?” You suddenly ask him, walking to the fountain that ties together the garden. Toji bites down his tongue. Being honest isn’t the best policy here. He knows how to pick his battles, and frankly, this isn’t one that’s worth fighting.

Sure, you tend to bicker a lot but he says stuff that is harmless. He never plans to hurt your feelings, it’s not something he intends to face the consequences for.

“Toji, answer.” You insist, hating the silence that you’re met with. “Staying silent is an answer either way.”

“Well…” He sighs. You take a seat on the edge of the fountain, looking up at the man. He looks hesitant, telling you all you need to know. “I’ve always thought that you’re supposed to marry for love.”

“Yeah…” You look down at the ground, almost in shame. Toji doesn’t understand why, because you have everything a human could ask for– He married for love once, and it was stripped from his hands. Love doesn’t secure anything; the power and money in your hands is a guarantee to a good life.

“It’s not worth it anyway.” Toji reassures you, something that he rarely does. He doesn’t have to, you’re never self conscious. Unless you bump into your friends, then your mind completely changes.

“Right! You were married once, how was that?” You look back up at him, curiosity brimming your eyes. Toji shakes his head, deciding not to speak. You end up sighing before talking again, “They know more about him than I do… And it feels weird.”

“What do they know?” He asks, and he watches you bite down your lip. Your face ends up going into your hands as you tell him,

“They say he’s a sex freak.” Your words come muffled, and he blames what he hears on that. Those words did not just come out of your mouth.

He frowns before asking, “What did you say, princess? I didn’t quite catch that.”

“He’s known to be promiscuous.” He hears you loud and clear this time around, and his eyes go wide. He’s perplexed by the response, but he shouldn’t be. Royalty or not, a man is still a man. He’s not sure how to answer, leaving you to speak by yourself. “What if I’m not enough for him? I mean I know nothing and–”

“I’m sure you’ll be more than enough.” Toji ends up cutting you off before you can ramble. You furrow your eyebrows, crossing your arms like the damned brat that you are.

“For you, maybe.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He quickly asks, and you click your tongue.

“You’re a peasant. Peasants are satisfied with anything they pick from a brothel– But he’s royalty.” You explain, making Toji scoff. He mimics you, crossing his arms while staring you down.

“Where do you think your royal prince is going to be promiscuous?” He leans down, getting into your face. If the king saw him, his head would roll off for being too close to the precious princess. “Maybe you’re right. I wouldn’t be satisfied with you either.”

“Good thing you’ll never be the prince.” You stick out your tongue at him, and Toji rolls his eyes.

“You’ll be fine, princess.” He ends up telling you, but that’s not enough to soothe the sudden wave of nerves. “You need to stop listening to those women. They’re jealous of your status.”

“Toji…” Your breath hitches, thinking if you really want to ask him the question. No, you shouldn’t. It’s not appropriate– You still spit it out, “How do you have sex?”

“Princess, I was there when they taught you this. I don’t have to explain this to you.” Toji quickly answers, trying to look unphased by the rather odd question. It’s a good thing someone else is raising his son because he doesn’t know how to handle it. “Which was quite weird, considering you were well into your twenties.”

“No, I mean how is it enjoyable? How do you make a man enjoy it?” You’re practically interrogating him, and while Toji isn’t one to get nervous, this isn’t sitting well with him.

“It’s just something that…” He begins, and he can’t bring himself to say it. Instead he extends his hand for you to take, insisting, “Let’s go back inside.”

“What?” You’re quite annoyed that he doesn’t give you the answer to your question.

“Look, princess. There’s no explanation. It just feels good when it’s with the right person, that’s that.” He ends up giving in, very clearly sharing your sentiment of annoyance. “Now, let’s go back inside before your father kills me.”

“Fine.” You roll your eyes, taking his hand and standing up. He guides you back inside, where you’re everyone’s prey once again. Your eyes keep wandering back to him, but before you know it, Toji’s out of sight.

“Hmm… Toji.” She knew that this is how she’d end up tonight. No matter how much Toji tries to ignore her, he ends up coming back to her in the darkest moments of the night.

Toji marks Mayu’s neck, knowing that she had no way of hiding it tomorrow. She likes to think that it’s because he’s possessive, rather than him just being reckless. It doesn’t matter the reason, she’s still digging her nails into his back as his kisses get lower and riskier.

“Toji!” They both hear, making the man freeze. She puts her index finger over his lips. If he doesn’t make a sound, they’ll go away. “I need your help!”

“She’ll leave if you don’t say anything.” Mayu whispers, and Toji’s too in the moment so he agrees. It’s his job as your assigned knight, but it’s after hours.

He thinks he’s safe after a minute, but the man often forgets how invasive you can be.

“Toji–” The door opens, and he looks back at you. Your eyes go wide and you immediately cover your face, protecting yourself from the compromising situation. He stares back at you with guilty eyes, as if he’s tainted your innocence in any manner.

“What is it, princess?” He asks, getting himself off Mayu and grabbing a shirt. It’s after hours, you’re assigned a different guard until the morning. What can he do that your guard possibly can’t?

“It’s fine, after further thought, I can handle it.” You respond, taking baby steps as you back out. Toji sighs, looking back at Mayu.

“Leave.” He mouths to her, and he watches as the woman gets upset. Toji doesn’t have the energy to deal with her, instead, he walks over to you. His hand goes to your shoulder and he turns you around.

“Are you decent?” You question, and Toji almost smirks. You can really crack him up even when it’s not your intention.

“I’m walking you back to your room, am I not?” Toji answers, and he watches you uncover your face. It’s clear that you’re embarrassed about the situation you found him in. He ends up chuckling before saying, “I guess you can say that I’m one of the peasants you described earlier.”

“What do you– Oh! No. No no. You like that girl and–” Your brain is unable to find the right words. It’s as if the system is overheated after finding your knight in that situation. “You know I just say things to tease you.”

“I don’t really like her.” He confesses, and you raise your brow. You don’t respond to that, you’re not sure how to.

He clears his throat, “What did you need help with?”

“I needed help with something and I didn’t want to ask Hanako.” You answer, and he shakes his head disapprovingly.

“So you chose to bother me instead?” He’s mostly teasing, but you can’t look him in the eye. “You know, that still doesn’t answer my question. What could I do that your night guard can’t?”

“Nothing. It’s trifling.” You reply. You’re nearing the room, and you both notice how your night guard is missing. He’s most definitely looking for you.

“Here you are, princess.” Toji opens the door to your room. He has to make sure that you enter your room safe and sound, and that you don’t try to escape– Oh, what a headache that would be.

Your gaze falls on his massive arm, one that is usually covered by the long sleeves of his uniform. Right now he wears a simple white undershirt, one that gives you the view of the many scars on his arms. Scars that he’s gotten throughout the years of many battles. You know better than anyone that Toji has been through a lot, otherwise he wouldn’t have the position as your knight.

You don’t know why you keep staring at it, or why you like it. Your face begins to get warm, and you almost have to pinch yourself to get out of the trance that you suddenly have found yourself in.

“Goodnight, princess.” Toji tells you, knocking you back into reality. You step into the room, muttering a barely audible goodnight. Your hand goes to the door knob, and just as you’re about to shut the door in his face, he asks you, “Are you sure you don’t need any help with anything? What you needed sounded urgent.”

“I’m fine.” You nod as you begin to shut the door in his face. But you stop yourself when there’s a crack in the door. What’s the worst that can happen?

“Is everything–” Toji begins when you open the door wide once again. Nothing can possibly prepare him for the question that leaves your lips. The help that you needed just a few minutes ago– It wasn’t just anything that anyone could fulfill.

There’s a reason you sought him.

“Toji, will you have sex with me?”

#[Imaculada]#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fushiguro #daddy toji #fushiguro toji #jjk toji #toji x reader #toji zenin #toji x y/n #toji x you #toji fanfic #knight toji #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x reader

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prettyboykatsuki · 2 days ago

Text

there’s something about oliver that’s . sympathetic with you where he’s really not with other people. you’re childhood friends. you’ve crushed on him kind of one sidedly for most of your life and you’ve never really done anything to pursue it

because you’re just two very fundamentally different people. it was always kind of impossible. and plus, oliver grows up to have a bad personality. he’s a womanizer, and a bastard. the most important thing is that he’s your friend, and he’s the most important person in your life regardless of where you stand.

and then, out of nowhere, you get a confession from him. and obviously, you don’t believe it for shit

but oliver has . all of these memories and moments with you. he admits to knowing of your crush and ignoring it, and how— he could ignore it for so long until you decided to truly give up and began dating and it just drove him completely over the edge.

still, you’ve been in love with the bastard for ten long years. so you’ve sort of got this lingering insecurity that he doesn’t actually like you. that he’s just seeing you as another interesting conquest, that he’ll sleep with you and get bored. so convinced of it there’s a time you’re sex friends only because you refuse to even try to date him.

but then—you run into one of oliver’s exes with him. horrible timing really. she’s beautiful, like model pretty and more than that, acts familiar with him in a way that makes your gut churn. she sits with you both (you insist, because you’re a masochist of some kind)

and she starts crying about her current relationship. you’re expecting oliver to act the way he always acts with girls. and in way, he does. at least his tone and voice are the same.

but it dawns on you that it’s different. you can really, really tell in the way he talks to you vs how he’s with her. and you hate yourself for noticing but oliver is just… so so gentle with you.

always sympathetic, even when sarcastic. always earnest almost to the point of being childish. he’s always cared about you more than anyone else. always. your whole life it’s been that way.

but it’s in a moment where you get to see how he acts with someone else, and think of all the times you’ve been in the same situation. how he’s always, always taken your side. if it were you crying to him, he’d just be so much more honest. honest with his childish anger, honest with his stupidity. genuine sympathetic down to his bones. kind.

oliver is nice with her. he says all the right things, but the meaning in his words is cold at best. it’s based in reason less than pure sympathy. oliver is always licking your wounds for you, but this is simply tending them. you find the former more intimate

it’s in that it really dawns on you. oh. he loves me. if it were me, he’d let me whine and joke and comfort me. if it were me, he’d probably get petty jealous on my behalf.

you hate yourself for it. you do. but at the same time it makes your heart beat so fast it hurts

#aristotle.txt #tw oliver aiku

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my-starlights · 2 days ago

Text

ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴇx!ʙꜰ ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ ᴋᴇɴᴛᴏ…

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴇᴡ. In which you stumble into your ex, Nanami Kento.

ʟɪᴍʙᴏ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. Angst :: hurt/comfort :: fluff at the end :: sfw

ʟᴏꜱᴛ ꜱᴘɪʀɪᴛꜱ. Nanami Kento :: Gojo Satoru

ʀᴜɪ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ. It’s been a while since I wrote something haha… I said I’d do geto but Nanami has my heart so here we are 😭

ᴡᴄ. 1.1k

“Listen, let’s be mature about this, please.”

The light on your phone glares into your glassy eyes.

“I don’t want this either, but you’re not a child anymore.”

Even though you’re looking at couplecore posts on social media, Kento’s voice keeps breaking through.

Stupid lovey-dovey couples on Tik Tok. You angrily swipe at your eyes and press ‘not interested’ at the video.

“If you can’t handle this argument like an adult, perhaps you should take a step back from this relationship.”

Your phone suddenly turns dark - agh, it died - and with a huff you set it down to charge, looking at the ceiling. It’s been three weeks since your messy breakup with Nanami Kento, and social media isn’t helping you forget about you and your boyfriend’s - ex-boyfriend’s - argument; it started as a small confrontation about him overworking and ended with… with this.

You, leaving your shared home and going to your old Jujutsu Tech dorm.

Kento, still at his office, head in hands and unable to focus.

You know he’d never cheat; but it seemed like he was working to the bone. No more weekend dates or him coming home to you cooking dinner; he was at the office more than he’d see you, and for weeks on end. You’d been crying, begging him for a break from work, and him stoically telling you in an impatient voice that this was just what being an adult was.

The two of you never fought like this before. Ever since the argument, you feel as if a chunk of your being was forced away from you, leaving you empty. Alone. You feel a lump in your throat and swallow, blinking back more tears.

It’s time to move on, you reason with yourself. It was nearing midnight.

You sigh and close your eyes.

—

The next day, you wake up with the same sense of dread you’ve had in the past couple weeks, and just as you exit the old dorms… you see Gojo Satoru. Of course. You hadn’t seen him alone in a while, only with his girlfriend.

He spots you and strolls towards you, running hand through his hair. Was he… relieved?

Something’s awry.

“Ah! I’ve been looking for you,” he says, sighing as he takes in your somber appearance. “Everywhere. You have no idea.”

“Well here I am,” you say tiredly. “Why… why were you looking for me?”

“Nanami has been quite worried about you, you know. He wouldn’t tell me anything other than that. He’s asked me to look for you and taken time off from work, and everything.”

What? Kento off of work? This only happened on birthdays or holidays. And Gojo actually listening to Kento for once too? This has never happened.

“Oh,” you say quietly. “Well, I don’t know why anyone’s looking for me. I’ve been here. Besides, Kento and I, we’ve broken up, so—“

“WHAT??” Gojo screeches, and you jump back, surprised by the noise. “YOU’RE NOT TOGETHER ANYMORE?”

You rub your temples. “Not anymore, I think? He said I should take a step back from our relationship, and—“

Gojo is about to screech again when Kento walks up, hair ruffled and tie loosened, looking ready to murder Gojo. “Leave,” he barks at Gojo. “You found her, now go bother someone else.”

You jerk away from the two men. What the hell is happening?

Kento moves up to Gojo mutters something into his ear; the latter turns pink and begins walking away, looking at you apologetically. Kento rubs the bridge of his nose, and turns to you.

“Oh, love,” he says quietly. “I’m so sorry about the past couple weeks. It wasn’t you who was immature, it was me.”

You look at him, defensive, eyes already slightly glassy. “You broke up with me. And now you want me back? That’s not how break ups work.” You pivot on your heel, heart breaking at his surprised face, and start walking briskly away, him quickly catching up.

“Love, I didn’t mean to… we’re not seriously broken up, are we? I never meant to… I was speaking without thinking, please don’t tell me you thought we’re broken up…”

You turn to Kento abruptly, still walking. “What was I supposed to think?” You say, incredulous.

“No, no, no, love, I’m so sorry, please just stop walking—”

“—Kento, I’m not mature enough for you. I don’t take what you take seriously, I’m childish near you, and you made that clear. I understand now—“

You’re interrupted by Kento falling to his knees in front of you. “Love,” he says, collecting your palms in his hands. “Please forgive me. I was the immature one, you’re too good to me, you were looking out for me—“

“Kento please get up—“

“—You need to understand this. You’re the love of my life, how could I ask that you step back? I’m ruined without you—“

“—Kento, please just—“

“—you’re the love of my life, I’m so sorry, I’ll spend every day making it up to you. I’ve started going only part-time at my job. I’m ready to do the best I can for you. You were worried about my well being and I punished you for it. Please just forgive me…”

Tears finally start rushing down your face, but Kento doesn’t let go of your hands. “Oh, Ken…” you sniffle. “You started part-time? For me? Please get up, I…. Let me hug you….”

He rushes up, feeling the blood run to his head, but he doesn’t care; you hug him hard, still crying. He feels a stab in his chest every time he feels a tear sink into his shirt.

You mumble against his broad chest. “I forgive you,” you mumble. “I missed you, Ken. I love you.”

He wraps you in a hug, looking down and cupping your face. His usually steady voice tremors slightly. “Am I still your… are we still together?”

You smile up, eyes watery, at him. “If you’ll have me.”

He hugs you hard. “There is no universe in which I don’t want you. I… let’s not do this here, love. Let’s go home, yeah?”

Your eyebrows crinkle in a way Kento didn’t realize he missed. You look up at him. “Home?”

“You think I just meant to apologize and move on? No, love, I have gifts for you. And a dinner planned. I don’t want to spend any more time at work that I could spend instead with you.”

You take his hand and intertwine your fingers with his, then lean upwards to peck his cheek. “I love you, Ken,” you say, stepping back.

The somberness, the loneliness you felt just this morning, fade away. The part of you that broke after your fight seems to mend itself back into you. Finally, you’re….

Complete again.

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klunkcat · 3 days ago

Note

50 VAGUE ANGSTY + HURT/COMFORT DIALOGUE PROMPTS

42. "Tell me what I did wrong! What's wrong with me?!" + rise A Team 🥺

You keep requesting things that I know will hurt ur feelings!!!

TW: panic attack, derealization/dissociation

Waking up in the med bay had been less painful than this. He’d broken fourteen bones and fractured three more, been coughing up blood and some thick substance he was very sure was never supposed to be on the outside but he’d thought, ‘hey, we won’.

This didn’t feel like winning. This felt like standing on the other side of a very long tunnel and seeing the world from a sideways tilt.

He’d been allowed out of the med bay for a glorious two days– mostly to lay up on the couch instead of the stiff medical room— and missed somewhere that the world had actually ended. Because when Raph leaned over him to grab his glass of water on the table beside him, Leo flinched.

It wasn’t him, he decided. Because Leo had never once in his life feared anything from his big brother, not even when Raph had gone through his snapping phase. Because Raph was Raph and that meant the biggest warmest hugs you could imagine, and big wet watering eyes and crying over commercials with kittens that sneezed too hard. It couldn’t be him that saw Raph moving forward and thought of pink, slimy tendrils, and felt his airways closing with a sharp thrum of oh god and I’m going to die, because that didn’t make sense.

Raph froze, eyes wide. Leo fell further outside himself.

The other him made his hand move, he didn’t feel it move. The other him spoke.

“Oh, ha. Sorry, static must have shocked me.” From the blankets, yeah. That made sense. This other him that jumped at things at least had his wits, that was reassuring.

“Leo,” Raph said very slowly. Some hindbrain red alert crawled all the way up from his heart and right out his mouth, and into that other version of him that was staying very still.

“I didn’t— I didn’t mean to.”

Raph put his arm down just as slowly, leaned back like he could telegraph every moment. His eyes stayed wide and locked on to him. “Okay, that’s okay.”

“It wasn’t you,” the other him said, and Leo couldn’t feel his lips moving but he desperately wanted to be able to shut him up. “It wasn’t um— just. Jumpy. Pulled something funny, you know with the. The bandages.”

Shit, Leo thought. Stick to the script, pal.

“Right,” Raph said, without blinking. Like he was thinking something else.

“Don’t do that,” other him said. “Okay, the big brother voice thing. I don’t need it, let’s just. Watch the movie, right?”

He was suddenly aware of Donnie by his kneecaps, Mikey staring at him from the mound of pillows he’d made at Don’s legs. He needed this other him to shape up, acting classes were a must. He was flubbing big time, Leo did not flub.

Raph shifted again, molasses slow, and gave Donnie a look. His twins face twitched with a nod, and he summarily picked up Mikey, blanket and all and shuffled into his lab. Traitor, Leo thought vaguely. Pincer attack, coordinated front. He hated that. That was his and Don’s thing.

Stepping on my turf, he meant to say. Other Leo’s mouth didn’t move, so he was useless.

“Actually, Raph’s a little worried.”

Oh, Leo thought, oh no. Fear lanced through him again, in some distant way. He could see his fingers twitching and couldn’t make them stop. “Worried? About what. Can I help, big guy?”

Raph hummed. “Think you could, yeah. We haven’t talked about everything that happened, have we?”

Well, Mikey had made him talk a little, about why he thought it would be okay to choose himself without telling anyone else first. Hugged him as tightly as he could with Leo’s broken ribs for three solid hours until Leo’d given in and promised he’d be kinder to himself. Donnie had been furious at him for three straight days somewhere after he’d blearily woken up from his coma, but they hadn’t talked directly about why yet. Suddenly, the look he’d caught clicks.

He was still too outside himself to react the right way. Other Leo looked away and twisted the blanket in his hands.

Ever so slowly, he felt Raph’s warm hand land on his knee. He could see it, his big brother’s hand, green and normal. No spikes, no pink. He could breathe out— there was a rope somewhere there that guides him closer enough that he can flip his own hand around and squeeze.

“Nothing to talk about, bro bro,” Leo managed, but it was croaky and lacking all the usual fizz. Fizzless, him. The horror was nearly too much to think about.

The look Raph gave him was half a wince of apology, half tangled up exasperation. He didn’t like that there was guilt there. That didn’t fit. Raph hadn’t done a single thing wrong.

“Leo.”

He made himself swallow. “Raphala.”

Raph sighed. Flipped Leo’s hand over so he could stare down at the bandages crossing his palm. He’d burnt the inside of his fingers somehow, he couldn’t even say when it happened. Silly, really. He’d laughed when Don had told him. Come to think of it, Dee hadn’t really looked like he’d agreed with the joke then either.

He watched the way Raph traced his thumb across the white gauze, the way his face twisted and crashed down with mounting horror.

“I’m so sorry, Leo. You know I love you, right?”

Other Leo made a second appearance, making his hands go numb. “I— of course? I love you too, what does that—?”

Raph’s non bandaged eye blazed when he looked up at him, swimming in the dim movie light. “I hurt you, Leo. I took your trust and I hurt you with it. Raphie’s so sorry.”

That didn’t— Leo blinked rapidly. The world fell out of focus, clicked free of its puzzle piece board. Out into the ether. “Stop apologizing.”

“Leo—”

“No!” Other him said it sharp, loud. Too electric behind the words, he winced at himself and didn’t feel his face move. “You don’t— you don’t get to apologize to me. That doesn’t— what are you talking about Raph?”

Somehow his brother’s face only fell further, it made the panic in Leo’s chest sticky. “I said that wrong, I don’t—” It was so hard to think, why couldn’t he make himself think? “I’m not afraid of you! I’m not.” He wasn’t. Because it was Raph.

“It’s okay if you are, buddy. Raph understands—”

“I’m not!” Leo bit out, and blinked rapidly again as the world falls further out to sea. “I put you in danger, I jumped in and— I did something stupid, and you got brainwashed. Because I fucked up. Why aren’t you mad at me? Tell me what I did wrong!”

What’s wrong with me, he thought, vibrant and liquid like toxic sludge seeping down to his core.

He couldn’t even see right anymore, everything had gone shapes and colors. It wasn’t even Raph in front of him, it was something. It was nothing and—

“--breathe with me, okay? In. Out, that’s it. That’s perfect, Bug, keep doing that.”

The Bug snapped him together, pulls all of his strings forward. Raph hadn’t called him that since they were toddlers, when he and Donnie had started insisting being twins and Raph tried to play along. Bug and Boo, he’d said all proud. Donnie had hated it instantly and rebuked any attempt at being called something so sweet by biting. Leo’d tried to make it fit a little better, since Raph seemed to like it so much.

‘S it b’cause I bug you?’ Leo’d said, sad and puddling up but hiding it with a teasing smile he knew would make the hurting less loud.

Raph had smoothed his hand across his head and grinned. ‘It’s cause you’re my favorite bug.’ But it sounded like a good thing when Raph said it.

Leo forced in a breath, feels his hands become his hands and his toes firmly plant as his toes. “Sorry,” he managed. “Sorry, went. Um. Somewhere. Back.”

Raph’s big worried eye peered down at him, he let go of Leo’s hand with a firm squeeze. Leo shook his head, clearing out all the fuzz as much as he could.

“I need you to hear me, just for a second. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Raph tried, worry making his voice small. “Can you believe me on that one thing? You were brave, and you got us through it, and most importantly you got Leo through it. I’m not mad.”

Leo scoffed, staring down at the blanket instead. Raph carefully scrubs a hand across the top of Leo’s head, warm and calloused the way he knows.

“Raph wanted you safe. That’s all. And I hurt you, so it’s okay if you— if you need time.”

Leo snapped his eyes up, grabbing at Raph’s hand again even before he pulled away. “I don’t! I don’t need you to go anywhere, or leave or. Please don’t leave.”

Raph’s face gentled.

“Can we just,” Leo couldn’t look at him, he couldn’t. “Can we just stay here for a minute? Maybe talking can be later.” When it wasn’t him and other him preferably, so he could say things the right way.

“Okay.”

Raph settled back on the couch, slowly lifting his arm free and telegraphing the space underneath for Leo to decide. As if he needed to decide, the best place in the world was in Raph’s hugs. He’d always fit perfect there.

Raph smoothed his hand across Leo’s head with his thumb, back and forth.The warmth pulled him all the way back into himself, almost with a shudder. Leo squeezed his eyes shut and buried his snout further into Raph’s side. It made him brave. “I’m not scared of you. I’ve never been scared of you, big guy.”

Raph’s thumb paused. Smoothed back again. “It’s okay if you are. That was… pretty scary.”

Leo shook his head stubbornly. “Wasn’t you. I know my big brother anywhere. That wasn’t him.”

He pretended kindly not to hear the hitch in Raph’s breathing. The warm chuckle after is like lottery gold.

“Thanks, bug. I know you, too.”

#rottmnt #my fic #rottmnt leo #rottmnt raph #rise of the tmnt #writing prompt #goodlucktai #there's probably more that should go at the end but i hope the mental image of Don trudging into his room with burrito'd mikey helps

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rollinouttahere-writes · 2 days ago

Text

I have decided to post the Sanji vent fic. Hopefully anyone struggling with a similar problem will be able to find comfort in this.

Genuine

Yandere Sanji x Fem Reader

6.4k words

Summary: It would seem that your coworker is onto you and your eating disorder, but you never could have guessed how far he would be willing to go.

Warnings: described feminine reader, non consensual touching, yandere tendencies, drugging, kidnapping, captivity, anorexia, reader is described as being underweight, negativity and self depreciation, I wrote this for me but like y'all can read this too I guess

“Is there anything else I can get for you two?”

“N-No, that’s all,” the man at the table shot you an anxious smile while wringing his sweaty hands before refocusing his attention on the woman sitting across from him.

Taking the hint, you promptly excuse yourself with a smile tugging at your lips. You couldn’t help but find the couple cute, especially after the man had nervously slipped you an engagement ring to place inside the lady’s champagne flute.

It was a quiet night in the Baratie with only a sparse amount of customers dining in. That meant less tips, but since it also meant less work, and you knew better than to bemoan it too much. Busy nights were truly chaotic, so you learned quickly to appreciate when it was slow.

With so little to do, you couldn’t help but covertly watch the table you just serviced, curiously awaiting how the woman would take to the proposal. Would she scream in joy and let out happy tears? Or would she be upset and dump the contents of the glass on her boyfriend’s head? Only time would tell.

As your gaze landed on the table, you saw that she had already fished the ring out of the glass with an awestruck look on her face. The man scrambled out of his seat and dropped to his knees beside her, clumsily swiping the ring off the fork and holding it up to her while saying words that you couldn’t quite make out from here.

Your eyes drifted to the woman. You were looking to see what her reaction was, but as per usual… your mind had other ideas.

She was gorgeous. A goddess amongst mere peasants. The way that her skillfully styled hair framed her face accentuated her every feature just as much as her perfectly applied makeup did. Not to mention that her dress was seemingly tailored to fit her stunning body just right. Anyone would feel blessed just to stand next to her. It was hardly surprising that someone would be so nervous and excited to propose to her.

What you wouldn’t give to be like her. To look like her.

“How romantic~”

A wistful sigh next to you snaps you out of your envious thoughts. You blink a couple times and see that the woman is now out of her seat and hugging the man tightly while all but sobbing her answer. The other patrons in the dining area politely clap for the happy couple, and your body goes into autopilot to do the same.

You spare a glance to the side, regarding the person who had just spoken to you. Sanji was standing no more than a foot away while watching the spectacle before him with a dreamy expression. He meets your eyes with a gaze that felt uncomfortably intimate, causing you to look the other way again. Your reaction makes him chuckle and step closer to you, and one of his hands snakes around your waist. The sensation of his hand massaging your side made you internally cringe. If anyone else did this to you, you would slap them. But… Sanji is your boss’s son, and you don’t particularly want to go job hunting again right now.

“Don’t you think that’s romantic?” His voice cooed directly into your ear, allowing you to feel his warm breath fan across it.

Not wanting to risk showing your discomfort, you keep your answer short, “I guess…”

“You guess? Do you not think that’s sweet?” His hand settles on your hip and forces you even closer to him, much to your chagrin. Of course he’s doing whatever he can to prolong the conversation.

“It’s just… I would hate a public proposal, that’s all.” You give a partial truth, not wishing to divulge the nasty pit of envy that was the real reason behind your less than enthusiastic reaction. “I’m happy for them, don’t get me wrong, but I would be mortified if someone proposed to me this way.”

“Oh? So you would want something more private and personal? That’s good to know.”

Without even looking at him, you could tell that he was smirking and it made you want to groan and roll your eyes, but you resisted. You cross your arms over your chest and sigh deeply, “I don’t see why any of my preferences would be good for you to know.”

Sanji pulls you in until you’re flush against his side and uses his free hand to grasp your chin and force you to look him in the eye, “But of course it’s good to know, my love. That could be us someday~”

A shiver runs down your spine and you abruptly shove him away, “You aren’t funny, Sanji.” You take several steps back and straighten your uniform, “Now get back to work and leave me alone so I can do my job.” You turn on your heel and march away from him, ignoring his protests. Fortunately, before he can give chase, Zeff pops his head out of the kitchen and yells at Sanji to get back in there.

Thank god…

You didn’t know what Sanji’s problem was, nor why he was so hung up on harassing you. As you bounce between tables and serve the customers, your mind keeps drifting back to Sanji against your will. You couldn’t stand him… but you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him either.

The first time he said his honeyed words to you, your heart skipped a beat. You had never been the kind of person to garner attention, much less of the romantic variety. There were butterflies in your stomach and fanciful daydreams in your head about the possibilities your futures held together. But… then he went and ruined it and crushed your dreams. You felt like a fucking idiot for thinking that you were anything special because as it turns out, Sanji is a chronic flirt and treats every woman he sees like this.

Those sweet words held no more significance than a “hello” or “how are you” to him, but you were stupid enough to take them at face value and fall for his words hook, line, and sinker. It was ridiculous. Doubly so because of all the women he could have, why the fuck would he want you? All you are is some pathetic, ugly, boring nobody. Of course he didn’t actually mean what he said. You would give anything for his actions to actually mean something, for him to genuinely be interested in you, but that just wasn’t the case and it never would be.

What you really didn’t get was why he kept trying after the jig was up. He should have dropped you like a bad habit after you started rebuking his efforts, sometimes quite harshly, but he didn’t give up. Why he was still playing this game with you was beyond your understanding. Maybe he was just viewing your stubbornness as a conquest. A conquer to boast about once he accomplished his goal. You didn’t know, but you were hellbent on never giving him the satisfaction.

But dwelling on such drama was hardly going to get you anywhere. The only good thing that came of your introspection was that it carried you through the first part of your shift and to your lunch break. After finishing with your last table, you allow a different waiter to take over your section while you excuse yourself to enjoy your break.

You slip into the coat room to put on your jacket and grab the thermos you packed for today, then head for the exit so you can sit in your car for the duration of your break. While the Baratie did provide a breakroom for the staff, you preferred the peace and solitude that came from spending time in your vehicle instead. Just as your fingers are wrapping around the doorknob to twist it open, a voice cuts through the air, calling your name and bringing you to a halt.

The knob creaks softly as your hand tightens around it, but you take a deep breath and release it as you turn around, “What do you want now, Sanji?”

If he could pick up on the annoyance and bitterness in your tone, he blatantly ignored it. Instead, he beamed at you and closed the distance between you two in record time, “I’m glad I caught you before you left. I packed you a lunch today!” Sanji presented you with a small box that he then pried the lid off of to show off the contents inside.

The lunch looked like one of those classic bentos that you see when you watch anime. There are several rounded onigiri molded and decorated to look like pandas staring back at you. Crammed into the remaining space are some colorful vegetables as well as a thinly sliced cutlet of some sort with a small sauce container in the middle.

This was far from the first time that Sanji tried to pass off a lunch onto you. While they did always look and smell appealing, all that you could focus on was the negatives of it. The carbs, the deep fried meat, the vegetables that were coated in what was no doubt a calorically dense sauce. There were enough calories in this single lunch to carry you through the week, you’re sure of it. Your body would give out before you could ever work all of this off. And Sanji offered you this kind of shit damn near daily. It’s like he’s trying to make you fat.

Sanji’s face falls when you don’t say anything or make an attempt to take it, “Do you not like it? I can go make you something else if you want. Just tell me what you want and I’ll go make it right now.”

His persistence makes you cringe. How many times are you going to have to shoot him down before he actually listens to you and stops trying to give you food? You force a smile onto your face and hold up your thermos, “No… it, uh, it looks great, but I already have something to eat.”

“What do you have?”

Your eye twitches as he presses on, “Soup.”

For a moment, he just stares at you. The intensity of his gaze makes you shift uncomfortably. When he puts the lid back onto the bento, you feel a rush of relief, thinking that he was finally going to drop it and leave. But then he takes a step forward, his visible eye staring into your soul as he asks another question, “What kind?”

“W… What? Excuse me?”

“What kind of soup did you bring?”

The seriousness in his voice as he asked such a bizarre question made you laugh nervously, “What kind? What are you? The soup police?” You hope that the attempt at humor would diffuse the tense air and make him back off, but he just continues to stare at you expectantly. Your smile drops and twists into a scowl. “Why do you care? I’m just trying to take my break. Would you let me do that already?”

“... There’s just broth in there, right?” Sanji reaches inside his suit jacket for a cigarette and lights it. He takes a long drag of it, not giving a damn about the fact that he’s still in the building, “Or maybe green tea, though you usually use a different thermos for tea.”

What the fuck?

All you can do is stare at him as your blood runs cold. How did he know that? Your fingers tighten around the thermos that he correctly guessed the contents of. This was making you feel backed into a corner, and you could feel your temper starting to flare up. Why couldn't Sanji just mind his own damn business for once in his life?

“I don't see how this affects you. Just leave me the hell alone, okay? Get off my case.” Every word was spoken through clenched teeth as you tried desperately to keep from snapping at him and causing a scene. You whip around, intent on leaving so you can hide out in your car from him.

Before you can even grab hold of the doorknob, two arms wrap around your midsection and yank you back. A startled yelp escapes you as your back collides with Sanji's chest. For a moment, you're too stunned to even speak. He's always been touchy, but he's never crossed a line like this before. Your mind scrambles to figure out how to react when you feel one of his hands drift up and start rubbing up and down your ribcage as he nestles the side of his face against your hair.

“You're so thin… I can trace every single one of your ribs through your clothing. I know you're hungry; you have to be. Take the lunch I made for you, won't you, dear? I hate watching you waste away like this. You're breaking my heart.” His words are hushed, murmured so quietly that you doubt you would have been able to hear him had his lips not been directly next to your ear.

The worst part of this was the way his voice cracked in the last sentence. The foolish, naive part of your brain all but sang at this, desperately wanting to believe that someone cared about you. That someone wanted to see you get better and be happy. But then your rationality kicked back in. Sanji is just a player. He's only after one thing, and you know damn well that it isn't actually your heart. As soon as he gets what he wants, you'll be forgotten like every other woman that has come and gone in his life.

He's just playing the long con with you, and he's using some really fucked up tactics to try and win. Your lips curl into a snarl, and you spin within his hold and violently shove him away from you. Surprise flashes across his face as he stumbles and has to grab onto the coat rack to keep himself upright.

You want to scream at him. To cuss him out and ask how dare he try to manipulate and use you like this. But as tears burn at your eyes, you quickly retreat from the confrontation and run out of the building and to the sanctity of your car, locking the doors the second you get inside.

For a moment, all you can do is sit there in silence as you process everything that just happened. Your head drops onto the steering wheel as a quiet sob leaves your throat. Why you? Why does he insist on tormenting you? Why does he have to keep fucking with you like this? You haven't done anything to him to deserve this. It didn't make any sense as to why he was so focused on you. It's not like you're the prettiest waitress here. There are plenty of better options. Like literally anyone else. Maybe this is all one big joke to him… maybe he's just waiting for you to cave and say yes to him so he can laugh in your face for being stupid enough to think that he would ever actually want someone like you.

You wipe at your face aggressively as you lean back and reach for your phone to check the time. Much to your chagrin, ten of your thirty minutes have already been wasted. Great. You sniffle as you lift up your thermos to unscrew the lid. Then a thought strikes you.

How did Sanji know exactly what you had in here? He said it like it was just a guess, but what were the odds that it actually was? Did… Did he check it? Did he go through your locker and open your thermos? Why? What was he hoping to gain from doing that? Was he really just that nosey, or was he up to something?

Should you even be drinking this? You purse your lips and hesitate to take the lid off. What if he did something to it? Would he do something like that?

You decide to twist off the cap and look. You swirl the broth around in the thermos while scrutinizing it. It didn't look like he spit in it… and there didn't appear to be anything in there that shouldn't be…

Part of you still wanted to open the car door and dump it out regardless, but the other part was more hesitant to do that. You really didn't want to do the rest of your shift on a completely empty stomach. If it didn't have at least something in it, you knew you would get dizzy, and that's not something you can be when you're carrying trays loaded with food and drinks. Besides, it's not like you had proof that Sanji had tampered with this. Maybe it really had just been a lucky guess.

Tentatively, you take a sip. It doesn't taste off. You sigh deeply, then take another drink of it. There you go again being paranoid. Sanji’s persistence had just put you a little on edge, that's all. You're over thinking things.

The rest of your break is spent scrolling through your phone as you sip at your lunch. Periodically, your eyes glance up at the employee only door, half expecting to see Sanji standing there and watching you, but you fortunately never see him. You can only hope that you shoving him finally got the point across.

When your break is over, you leave your car and trudge back to the restaurant, shivering slightly in the crisp, early winter air. You pry the door open and slip inside, hanging up your coat and haphazardly tossing your now empty thermos and phone into your locker before power walking past the kitchen and into the dining room, hoping to avoid potentially catching the sous chef's eye should he not be as put off as you were hoping.

Just as you're entering the main room, your head starts to spin. Shit. The power walking was too much, wasn't it? As covertly as you can, you shrink back and lean against the wall, waiting for your vision to clear. Dizzy spells aren't anything new for you.

Your hand comes up to rub at your eyes as you try to will yourself to recover faster. Fuck… you feel so lightheaded. Are you going to faint? It's not usually this bad at work.

“(Y/N)? Are you feeling alright?”

The gruff voice of your boss snaps you out of your fog. You cringe as you look up and see Zeff standing in front of you with his arms crossed. Well then, this was humiliating. Having him see you slacking off right after your break was not something you wanted to happen. In an attempt to save face, you force yourself to stand up straight, “E-Everything’s fine, sir! Nothing to worry about here!”

You push yourself away from the wall, fully intending to hightail it into the dining area to try and spare yourself from his wrath, but your dizzy spell hadn’t passed at all yet. Your knees buckle and your vision swirls from the sudden movement, and the next thing you know, you fall right into Zeff. His arms uncross and his hands clamp onto your shoulders to keep you from falling to the floor. Your ears are ringing, and you can only vaguely make out what he’s saying. Something about “taking it easy”?

Through your disoriented state, you can recognize that you’re being moved, practically carried, by your boss. If you were in a better state, you’re sure that your face would be flush with shame. You can feel yourself being lowered onto a chair. Even with you now being seated, Zeff kept one hand on your shoulder to keep you upright. He turned and called out across the kitchen, “Eggplant, bring some water over here!”

Eggplant? Oh no. Not him. You try to sit up straighter and make yourself look more put together, “No, I’m okay. You don’t have to-”

“Quiet. Don’t give me any of that. You almost fainted out there, you clearly aren’t ‘okay’,” Zeff’s tone was firm and left no room for argument.

“(Y/N) almost fainted?!” Sanji rushed over and shoved the glass of water he had into Zeff’s hand before dropping to his knees at your side. His hand clutched yours tightly as he stared into your eyes with a distraught look on his face. “My sweet (Y/N), why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?”

Any attempts to dislodge his hands prove fruitless, you can’t break his hold. You purse your lips and avert your eyes, not wanting to look at his expression that is so convincing that you almost believe it. “I said that I’m fine. I just got a little lightheaded. It’ll pass in a minute.” Despite your words, you don’t actually feel any better even though you’re sitting down and resting now.

Zeff sighs at your words and brings the glass of water to your lips for you since your hands are still locked in Sanji’s death grip. You drink the cool water, but it doesn’t feel like it’s really helping anything. He pulls the glass away and stares at you hard for a moment before speaking, “You’re taking the rest of the day off.”

“What?”

“It’s a slow night, the remaining waitstaff here will be more than enough to cover for you. I don’t want you working in this state, you’re just going to hurt yourself or one of the customers if you have another dizzy spell while you’re carrying something. Just go home and rest.” Zeff turns his head to look directly at Sanji, “Why don’t you give her a ride home?”

Panic surges through your veins, “N-No! I can drive myself home, that’s okay!”

The look that Zeff gives you is hard and makes you shut up instantly, “Don’t start. You’re going to get into an accident if you try to drive right now. Like I just said, it’s slow. We can afford to lose Sanji for the day. The kitchen will probably run smoother anyway.”

Sanji grumbles at that last comment, but for once, he doesn’t pounce at the opportunity to argue with his old man. Instead, he stands up and flashes you with a warm smile, “I’ll go pull my car up so you don’t have to walk as far. Just wait right here for me.” He leans down to kiss your hand before releasing it and leaving. You hate the way your heart fluttered at the simple display. Stupid heart falling for bullshit actions.

While you wait, you sigh and slump back in the chair. Zeff had excused himself and exited the kitchen right after Sanji, presumably to let your coworkers know you weren’t coming back from your break today. The rest of the people in the kitchen were going about their job, but you caught a few of them sparing you concerned glances which only added to your embarrassment over the whole situation. You’re glad that you happen to have tomorrow off to help give them an extra day to forget about this ordeal.

The kitchen doors open again, and Sanji walks through them, wearing a light jacket and carrying yours. He helps you put on your coat, then pulls you to your feet. Almost immediately, your legs wobble and you instinctively latch onto him for support. What is going on with you? You’ve never had one of your dizzy spells hit you this hard. Before you can even begin to steady yourself and try again, you’re abruptly swept off your feet. The quick motion makes your head spin so much that it takes you a moment to register what is happening to you.

Mortification washes over you as you realize that Sanji just scooped you up into a bridal carry right in front of the entire kitchen. You squirm in his arms while uttering out weak protests as Sanji casually kicks open the swinging doors to the kitchen and walks out, seemingly completely unbothered by carrying you. You look up at him as your vision rapidly becomes more and more hazy. His expression is completely relaxed as if nothing is wrong.

His apparent confidence wasn’t spread to you, however. Something about this felt… wrong. You’ve never felt like this before, and you were starting to get scared. What if this was something more serious than you previously thought? Were you having a medical emergency right now?

As Sanji is placing you into the passenger seat of his car, you grab onto his arm while he’s trying to buckle your seatbelt, “Sanji… I don’t feel good.”

The smile that had been plastered onto his face since Zeff told him to take you home softened into a warmer, more comforting smile. He finishes buckling you in and strokes your hair, “I know, but don’t worry. I’m going to take care of you.”

“N… No,” your tongue feels like lead in your mouth, making speaking even harder. “Hos… pital.”

The seat you’re in is reclined so that you’re laying down. Sanji stands up straight. You can feel that he’s looking at you, but your vision is so blurry that you can’t make out his face anymore. He doesn’t acknowledge your request to go to the hospital. He closes the door, and everything goes black before he can walk around and open his own.

—

When your consciousness begins to flow back into you, you find yourself in the warm comfort of your bed. You sigh in contentment and lazily nuzzle your face into your pillow. The cool silk of the pillowcase felt heavenly on your skin.

…

… Silk?

Didn’t you have some cheap microfiber sheets on your bed? You sniff at the pillow and frown. You know for a fact that your bedding doesn’t smell like men’s cologne and tobacco.

Your senses come back to you in an instant as you lurch up into a sitting position. Your eyes frantically take in your surroundings, and dread fills your being. You’re in a small bedroom. There are several bookshelves lining the walls. A chair with a small side table are placed near them like some sort of simple reading nook. There’s a desk against the wall opposite of you with a laptop sitting on it.

You don’t recognize this room. It isn’t yours, and this definitely isn’t a hospital.

Looking down, you take in the bed you’re in. It’s a queen size bed that’s been pushed into the corner of the room, with you being on the side closest to the wall. A body pillow is placed against the wall, keeping you separated from it. Several blankets are piled on top of you. You raise your arms to throw off the blankets, but something halts your movement.

Your hands jerk back abruptly, making you wince as something tugs on your wrists and the headboard clangs behind you. You look down, and what you see makes your blood run cold.

Handcuffs. There are padded handcuffs locked around each of your wrists. Your eyes follow the chains all the way back to the headboard. Oh fuck.

fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

You’re going to die. You’re going to die here! Horror encompasses you fully as the gravity of your situation. Where even were you? And who did this? What kind of a monster could do something like this to you?

Think! Where were you before you passed out? It takes a moment for your memory to return to you but when it does, everything clicks into place. Sanji. You were in Sanji’s car. Did he do this? Sure, he could be a little sleazy, but you never took him for a kidnapper. And why you? What was his fucking obsession with you? What was he going to do to you?

No. You weren’t going to die like this. You weren’t going to let yourself be toyed with, murdered, and discarded by your sick freak of a coworker! Maybe you can break yourself free if you could just snap the wood you’re chained to. The chains connecting you to the headboard are long, permitting a wide range of motion to you. You’ll put your feet against the headboard and pull as hard as you can.

With a plan in mind, you shift to pull your legs up, but again, your movements are halted. You grab the blankets and yank them up only to reveal the very same handcuffs around your ankles. Experimentally, you pull on them. The footboard barely even budges. These chains are much shorter than the ones on your wrists, not giving you any chance to build up any sort of momentum. Just like that, your hope dies.

As you’re sitting there, completely demoralized, you take note of something else. You aren’t wearing your work clothes anymore. Instead, you’ve been dressed in a cozy pajama set. Even your regular socks have been replaced with fuzzy ones.

Shame and disgust courses through you upon realizing that you had been undressed while you were unconscious. At the same time, you couldn’t help but feel confused. It’s not like you’ve ever been kidnapped before, but this didn’t seem normal. Whenever you would hear about true crime cases covering people being abducted, you never heard about the kidnapper putting them in comfy clothes and a warm bed.

What the hell was going on?

You’re torn from your thoughts by the sound of footsteps coming towards you. Your head snaps up and you instinctively press yourself back against the headboard. Your eyes lock onto the door and you stare at it like a scared, cornered animal. Which is pretty much exactly what you are.

The door opens, and your theory as to who it was is confirmed instantly. Sanji’s smiling face enters the room, filling you with a combination of anger and fear. His grin widens even more as his eyes land on you, “Oh good, you’re awake. That’s perfect.” He hums happily and walks over to the bed with absolutely no sense of urgency. He sets a steaming bowl down on the bedside table as his eyes run over your body. “That’s no good, you’re going to get cold, sweetheart.” He calmly pulls the blankets back over you, then moves the pillows on the bed so that they’re behind your back.

You cringe away from him as his hands brush against your back, and you snap at him, “Don’t touch me!”

Sanji’s smile droops and morphs into a pout, “Don’t be like that, (Y/N). I’m just trying to make you more comfortable.”

The way that he is blatantly ignoring the elephant in the room was really pissing you off. “Comfortable? Comfortable?! You know what would make me more comfortable?! Not being fucking kidnapped!”

Your kidnapper has the audacity to sigh at you. “I’m doing this for your own good. You forced my hand. I didn’t have a choice.”

“What are you talking about?! Of course you had a choice! You could have chosen not to kidnap me!”

“You had a choice, too. It didn’t have to be this way, you know?” By now, his smile is completely gone. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes and slips one into his mouth before lighting it.

His casual demeanor only further fueled your ire, “I beg your fucking pardon?”

“I said that you also had a choice,” he exhales smoke into the air. “If you would have just taken that lunch I made for you, we wouldn’t have had to take this route.”

“What?”

“If you would have eaten the lunch that I made for you, you wouldn’t have drank the broth, and you never would have gotten so dizzy that you had to go home.” You freeze as his words sink in. “We could have done things the easy way, but you’re just so stubborn, aren’t you? But that’s okay. I think that this is for the better. Now I can monitor your recovery much more closely than I could have if we were apart.”

“You drugged me…” The words are little more than a whisper.

“Don’t put it like that, you’re making me sound like a scoundrel. A predator, even! I just… gave you something to help bring us together so I can take care of you. This is what you need. You’ve made it clear that you can’t take care of yourself on your own.”

Your fists clutch at the blankets covering you as you hiss at him, “Take care of me? You’ve got a really twisted way of going about doing that. How is this helping me?”

“This is helping you because I’m going to nurse you back to health. I know that you’ve been starving yourself. Everyone can tell. You’re wasting away right before us and making everyone watch as you slowly and painfully kill yourself.” Sanji’s voice cracks and he drops his head. Your eyes drift down when you hear the quiet drip drip drip of tears falling onto the duvet. “Do you have any idea how much it’s hurt me? You’re killing me just as much as yourself.”

One of Sanji’s hands reaches out and cups your cheek, forcing you to look him in the eye again. Forcing you to fully take in the state he’s in. There is so much pain and despair in his eyes. He looks absolutely miserable. This isn’t an act. He isn’t fucking with you. He means every single word coming out of his mouth. His thumb rubbed against your cheek, just beneath your sunken eye as he holds your face just a little too tightly. He speaks again in a choked-up, desperate tone, “I love you so much, (Y/N). I don’t want to watch you die.”

All you can do is stare at him as your mind runs at a thousand miles a second to try and process all of the information being thrown at it. Wasn’t this… what you wanted? Proof that Sanji actually cared about you. That you weren’t just a conquest, but a legitimate desire. He says he loves you, and you genuinely don’t think you can argue against that, but…

Not like this. This isn’t how you wanted this to happen. You wanted a heartfelt confession, but not when you were cuffed to his bed after being drugged and kidnapped. This was insane. He was insane. And you were trapped with him.

Sanji releases your face and clears his throat as he pulls back with a forced smile, “Apologies. Look at me getting all emotional when I’m supposed to be caring for you.” He plucked the bowl off the nightstand and started to stir the mixture together. “I made some congee for you. I thought that this would be a nice and filling meal for your poor stomach.”

The mention of food made you recoil, and not just for the usual reason. You glare at Sanji and ask, “What’s in it?”

He beams at the question, “Well, I cooked the rice in a dashi broth- homemade of course- and I’ve got some salmon and-”

You interrupt him, “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. What did you put in my food this time?”

Realization flashes across his face and he sags, “It’s just food, my love. I promise that I won’t drug you again. I just had to do it that one time so I could get you here.”

“Do you expect me to believe that? To trust you after what you’ve done?”

“Please, (Y/N), you have to believe me. Did you not hear everything I just said? I’m doing this for your own good. I can’t help you get better if you’re unconscious the whole time. Just calm down and let me feed you before your food gets cold.” While he started off sounding sweet and pleading, his voice became progressively more firm as he went on. With a quiet huff, he sits down on the empty bed space next to you and scoops out a spoonful of the rice porridge.

Terrified of being drugged and vulnerable again, your hand swipes at him, just barely missing the spoon as he jerks back. Surprise flashes across his face, but quickly morphs into a scowl. He drops the spoon back into the bowl, then grabs your face again. You start to struggle, but you’re no match for his strength in your current state.

“Stop.” The one word is spoken with so much force that it actually makes you stop and stare at him with wide eyes. He sighs deeply and his teeth grind against his cigarette as he makes himself calm down. “(Y/N). My dear, sweet (Y/N). I went out of my way to give you handcuffs that were long enough for you to move around for your comfort, but if you try to stop me from feeding you again, I’m going to change them out for much shorter ones that won’t let you move at all. Is that what you want?”

You shake your head and cower back.

“Good. I don’t want that either. Now say ‘ah’ for me, alright?” Just like that, he switches again, sweetly crooning at you as he brings the spoon back to your lips.

As much as you don’t want to eat it… you don’t want to be even more restricted than you already are. Hesitantly, you open your mouth. Sanji’s smile widens as he quickly pushes the spoon past your lips. The savory porridge fills your mouth and, admittedly, tastes divine. It’s the best thing you’ve had in months… maybe even years.

You carefully chew, then swallow it. The voice in the back of your head is going crazy, screaming over all of the carbs and fat in that one single bite. But before you can dwell on it too much, another spoonful is brought to your lips. Your eyes flit up to Sanji who is looking at you with an expectant smile.

Well… you suppose that your food intake is no longer in your power. You have to eat if you want to keep Sanji happy and passive. You open your mouth again.

“Good, there’s my good girl.” Sanji looks happier than you think you’ve ever seen him. His smile lacks the playful edge it usually has to it, and his normally aloof eyes are relaxed in a way that makes him look almost soft despite the situation. “I know that you’re upset, and I understand that. This is all very shocking to you, but one day, you’re going to thank me for this. I guarantee it.”

“Honestly, you should have seen this coming. At the Baratie, we feed everyone who is hungry. Even if they don’t necessarily want us to.”

#one piece x reader #yandere one piece #sanji x reader #sanji #black leg sanji #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #red leg zeff #yandere #x reader #reader insert #tw anorexia #tw eating disorder

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ja3yun · 4 hours ago

Text

Please Be Real | P.JS

ex!jongseong x fem!reader warnings: angst, smut(mdni), unprotected sex, cream pie, fingering, begging, hurt w comfort, petnames (baby, princess), mentions of intoxication, alcohol, heavy conversation around wanting children, badly written, reupload, anything else lmk! w.c: 9.7k synopsis: you never thought you would hear the name park jongseong again until you get a call from one of his friends begging for your help a/n: hi! this is a reupload!! so if you think you've read it, that's because you have <3 i didn't edit this one and i think you will be able to tell since my writing is a little sloppy compared to now but i love this fic a lot. i was actually planning a new one today (sub jake) but i fear that one isn't finished yet! so please enjoy. as always, comments, feedback and reblogs are all welcome! love u <33

A sharp, jarring noise pierces your ears, the peaceful sleep you were in rudely disrupted. You groan out loud, covering your face with your covers but it does nothing to stop the ringing from your phone, it doesn’t even dull it a little, the little black device only echoing around the room louder.

Disoriented and groggy, you fumble for your phone on the bedside table, clumsily searching for it in the darkness. It isn’t your alarm, the usual peaceful tones of the birds chirping would be a welcomed sound, one that eases you into the day; no this was a phone call.

Finally grasping your phone, your eyes fight themselves open as you blink away any remnants of sleep, trying to find any sort of centre from your dizzy awakening. You look at the name on your phone but your vision is so blurred you can’t make it out but answer it anyway, knowing that whoever is phoning at this ungodly hour is clearly in need of your help.

“Hello?” you ask quietly, as if you don’t want to disturb the quiet of the night, unlike the person on the other end of the call.

“Uh, Y/N? It’s Jake.” His soft Australian accent drifts from your phone speaker into your ears. He sounds unsure whether he is supposed to be making the call, which to be fair, you understand because you haven’t heard from him in months, not after…

Letting out a sigh, you rub your forehead with the base of your palm tiredly, “Jake, why the fuck are you calling me at…” you pull the phone away, inspecting the time now that you’re more alert, “3.36am?” you ask with a hint of disdain. Normally, you would welcome the boy’s surprise call, after all, you did miss him. But considering he woke you up from a good dream involving you, Jeongin from Stray Kids, and a happily ever after; he wasn’t exactly your favourite person right now.

You can faintly hear some music in the background as he stays silent and you swear to yourself if this is to give him a ride home from a concert turned party, you’ll have his head.

“Listen, I hate to ask you this but can you come to Haven?”

“The nightclub? Why?” Your earlier suspicions are proving to be right, he does want a lift home. That would be an acceptable request if you guys were actively talking every day and the best of buddies but he isn’t even your friend, not really.

You can hear him shuffling around on the other end of the line, his voice can be heard trying to calm someone down but his words are obscured as if the phone is wrested away from his mouth, leaving only disjointed fragments of speech drifting through the receiver.

This sounds like more than just a simple ride home and it causes you to snap to attention, your senses heightened with concern.

Jake finally brings his attention back to you, letting out a sigh of discontentment, “It’s Jay, he’s a mess and he’s calling out for you.”

Jay. Park Jongseong.

It’s been so long since anyone has dared to mention his name to you that it almost sounds like a foreign word.

Seven months ago, you and Jongseong had decided to call off your six-year relationship, both of you reaching the understanding that it was for the best considering your battling differences and needs within the relationship.

It wasn’t easy, the furthest thing from it actually. You and him had been inseparable since high school and once you both got together in year 12, it was always you and him against the world. He was the love of your life, that once-in-a-lifetime kind of love that only happens in fairytales. Your souls were both painted from the same brush stroke.

But he wanted a peaceful, routine life - a classic white picket fence dream. Evenings would be spent with friends, savouring white wine and casual conversations over dinner. His heart was set on imagining the echoes of your future children's laughter filling your home, family trips to the seaside, and comforting them with kisses and band-aids when they got hurt.

And you craved spontaneity, to embrace life with vigour, travelling the world together was your dream, free from the responsibilities of parenting, cherishing moments just for yourselves. You longed for random midnight trips to Tesco for birthday cake simply because you could. All you wished for was to be with him, just the two of you.

Suddenly, your brain clicks into an important detail and you hurriedly check the calendar on your phone and the date makes you slump in your bed.

Today is Jongseong’s birthday, well technically not anymore given the time, but that means he has lived his first birthday without you by his side in so long. You would always celebrate his big day by doing something from his handwritten bucket list he has had since he was a child. Over the years he has added more to the list, each birthday scoring one out to add another.

The list wasn't extravagant; it was filled with simple yet heartfelt desires. You bought him a bundle of guitar lessons and a Taylor 114e electric guitar to fulfil his wish of learning to play. When you noticed the Download Festival marked with gold stars on his list, you surprised him with tickets for the year Metallica was headlining. And when he expressed a desire to cook a meal from scratch for his mum, you gifted him a kitchen knife engraved with his name and took the time to teach him how to prepare her favourite dish.

His birthdays were the most precious when you were in them, and you weren’t there with him.

“Y/N?” Jake’s sweet voice draws you back to his attention and out of the memory lane swirl your brain has put you in. He knows this is a tough call for you to take considering you and Jongseong said to cut ties completely; it’s better to act like you both didn’t exist than keep a thread tethered to one another that would only hurt you more.

As Jake and Sunghoon whisked Jay away for his birthday celebration, their intention was simple: to help him let loose and have a good time. Jay had been buried in overtime work lately, leaving little room for socialising. Since the breakup, the idea of going out without you - dancing together, stealing kisses in the taxi ride home - seemed unappealing.

Waking up that morning, Jay realised it marked the first birthday in six years without ticking something off his bucket list. The familiar, worn paper lay dormant on his desk, a stark reminder of your absence. He had no desire to celebrate today without you by his side. If he could fast-forward through the day to escape the weight of his birthday, he would eagerly do so.

Yet, with two very persuading friends and a whole lot of whiskey later, here he was, curled up outside Haven, yearning out for you.

“Y/N please, at least come and convince him to get up and come home with us,” Jake pleads. You can hear the cries of your ex-lover more clearly now as Jake kneels beside his friend, checking in on him.

With a resigned sigh, you nod, “Okay. Keep him warm, I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

Hanging up the phone, you quickly put a brush through your hair and change into a baggy top, one you bought for Jongseong before breaking up, and a pair of grey sweatpants. This is a bad idea, you know it is, but you also can’t leave him to wallow in the middle of the street. You don’t think you could live with yourself if you didn’t help and Jake wouldn’t call unless it was something he couldn’t handle.

You don’t want to see the state Jongseong is in, his wailing cries that you could slightly hear over the phone already made your heart clench in hurt.

As you drive to Haven, your heart races in anticipation with each mile that passes. Is your heart ready to face him after all these months? Staring into the love of your life’s eyes once again might break you even more. You’ve done a good job in keeping yourself together, at putting on a facade that everything is okay, when deep down you know that if one person asked you about Jongseong you would crumble and fall apart.

He wasn’t the only one throwing himself into work to forget. You’ve worked hours and hours trying to keep your mind off the heartbreak, you thought that if you just focused and kept your head down, the phrase time heals all wounds would kick in and you’d be free of the torment of losing your first love. But it hasn’t worked out that way, you know that now as you speed down the empty roads to console the one person you are trying to forget.

As you reach Haven, you can vaguely see three boys under the illuminating sign, almost as if shining a spotlight on them to add to the spectacle that Jongseong is making. Onlookers are watching as your ex-boyfriend cries on the pavement, wishing you would come home.

With a quick exhale, you step out of the car before doubts can creep in, determined to be there for him. Jake and Sunghoon's voices float to you, attempting to soothe him and inject some sense into the moment. Bracing yourself, you approach, ready to offer whatever comfort you can, despite the storm of emotions swirling within you.

Sinking onto the balls of your feet, you lower yourself to Jongseong's level, meeting his strained figure. Instantly, the sight of his distress instantly shatters your heart into a million pieces.

An abundance of tears cascades down Jongseong's reddened face, obscuring his features like a relentless waterfall. His clenched jaw and the prominent vein on his forehead portray the intensity of his distress as he struggles to draw each laboured breath. Curled into himself, his body seems to contort with the weight of physical agony, mirroring the emotional pain that ripples through his trembling form. He’s been keeping this in for so long that his body doesn’t know how to cope with it.

Reaching out to grab his clenched fist, you shuffle forward carefully, “Jjongie?” you say calmly, trying to pull him out of his dispaired state and avoid startling him. “It’s me, baby, look at me,”

Jongseong's body tenses at your voice and he slowly lifts his head, his eyes bloodshot and filled with an overwhelming mixture of sorrow and longing. For a moment, there's a flicker of recognition in his eyes before they cloud over again with anguish.

He doesn’t believe you’re actually here, considering the long nights where he has conjured up the idea of you, clinging to his imagination on the lonely nights he wishes for your touch. But as you squeeze his hand, he realises this isn’t a dream-induced sighting, you’re really here in front of him.

"Y/N..." he murmurs, his voice choked with emotion. Tears stream down his face in torrents, some landing on your hand that holds his. His cries reverberate through the air, each wail a sharp stab to your chest.

Cupping his cheek, you settle yourself between his legs, ignoring the stinging discomfort of the rocks beneath your knees, your focus solely on him. With a sad smile, you attempt to mask your own hurt, your touch a gentle reassurance amidst his storm of emotions.

"Hey, hey, enough of that now," you hush him softly, your voice a soothing melody in the tumultuous night. Using the pad of your thumb, you tenderly wipe away his tears, though they continue to flow unabated.

Jongseong leans into your touch, “I miss you so much, Y/N, please. Please,” he pleads as you feel his warm breath against your skin. He desperately nuzzles into your palm, seeking solace in the familiar sensation of your touch, the very thing he has been yearning for.

It’s hurting you just seeing him like this, the man you once knew to be strong-willed and resilient, keeping his emotions under control unless he’s sharing sweet vulnerable moments with you under the covers, is now a shell of himself, stripped bare by the weight of grief.

Turning to look at Jake, you offer him a small smile, “I’ll take him home.”

“You sure?” Jake asks with a raised brow, knowing that it’s a dangerous game for you both if you do.

“Yeah, I don’t think he’s going to move unless I do,” you chuckle sympathetically but there’s a bubble in your throat as Jongseong’s whimpers flow into your ear from beside you, pathetic and distressed.

Nodding, Jake gestures to Sunghoon, silently enlisting his help in the task of ferrying the drunk man to your car. The weight of Jongseong's limp form proves difficult as you all struggle to navigate his dead weight, his limbs hanging heavily without offering any assistance.

"Let's get you home," you murmur softly, your hands pressing gently against Jongseong's chest to steady him, aided by his friends who lift him onto their shoulders.

His eyes lock onto yours, an intensity burning within them. "Please be real," he whispers, his voice trembling with desperation. Despite feeling your touch and catching hints of your scent, doubt gnaws at him. If this is merely a figment of his imagination, he knows he'll never forgive himself. You're so close, so tangible - it has to be you.

With much struggle, the three of you get him to your car, putting him gently in the backseat so he can lie down, but he wraps his arms around your waist as his legs stay situated outside of the vehicle, holding you close to him.

"Come on, Jjongie, lie down for a minute," you coax gently, guiding him to stretch out along the seats. But he remains unmoving, clutching onto you as if fearing you'll slip away if he lets go. With a soft sigh, you stroke the back of his head, your hands moving in a soothing rhythm. "I promise, I am not going anywhere," you whisper, your words a tender vow to him.

Yet, your attempts to reassure him seem to go unheard. His face burrows deeper into your stomach, his words muffled by the fabric of your t-shirt and the weight of his tears.

You exchange a worried glance with Jake and Sunghoon, “How much did he have to drink?” you ask, scared of the answer they will give. Your ex-boyfriend has always been so good at holding his liquor that it must have been a hefty amount if he’s this bad..

“Like…two weeks' wage worth,” Sunghoon winces as he says it, his neck tightening as he looks at his best friend. It was hard to watch him, pound spirit after spirit, and be helpless in telling him to stop. He’s not exaggerating either, he must have spent at least £600 in there. Each round was a triple, accompanied by a few shots to wash the Jack and Coke down.

"Oh, baby," you sigh softly, returning your attention to Jongseong. You press a tender kiss to the crown of his head, hoping to offer some comfort amidst his distress. In some way, the scent of his shampoo also gives you some ease within the chaos. His response to your affection is to cling to you even tighter, his sobs echoing against your chest as he seeks solace in your embrace. There’s a crushing wave of empathy that you feel wash over you right at this moment. It hurts, seeing him like this and hearing of his struggles - ex or not - you care about him, and you also understand his pain.

You need to get him home. He’s a fucking mess and the longer he stays like this, the more it’s going to wear all four of you out. So, with a gentle hand, you pull him back and lift his jaw up to look at you. It was probably the worst decision you could have ever made. He looks…broken.

"I've got you, Jjongie," you whisper softly, squeezing his chin as almost a gentle pinch, to prove you’re not letting him go. This instantly relaxes Jongseong, though, his hands still grip onto you for dear life. His friends go to help you, break him away and buckle him in the backseat, but you halt them with a firm gesture, "You guys can go, I've got it from here."

Sunghoon shakes his head, heavy concern etched on his face. "No way. He's too heavy, Y/N. You won't be able to manage him into the apartment without us.”

But you stand your ground. This is your and Jongseong's mess, and you can’t let others help you clean it up. "It's okay. You guys have done your shift for tonight. Go home," you insist, your voice resolute and brooking no argument.

Reluctantly, Sunghoon and Jake nod, still teetering on the edge of arguing with you. But, they know better and bid you goodnight before going their separate ways home, leaving you alone with Jongseong and the weight of your shared history.

Taking a deep breath, you hoist him in, his body listening to you a little more now that you’ve reassured him you aren’t leaving him. He sprawls over the backseats and lays still, the alcohol consuming him into some form of comatose. You’ve been in this state before too, so you can recognise the blackout glaze that he’s trying to fight away as he keeps his eyes on you. He’s so scared you’ll just vanish into thin air. “I’m right here. Go to sleep.”

Surprisingly, he listens to your reassurance, closing his eyes and drifting off, allowing you to slide into the driver's seat. You turn the keys as the engine begins humming to life beneath you. Glancing at Jongseong's slumbering form in the rearview mirror, you steel yourself for the journey ahead.

_____

Arriving at his house fills you with a nervous energy that tightens in your chest. This wasn’t just his flat—it used to be your shared home. For two and a half years, this place held countless, irreplaceable memories, moments you thought you’d cherish forever.

You were the one who left, finding a new place closer to work and convincing yourself it was the practical choice. But deep down, you knew the real reason: you couldn’t bear the constant reminders of him that lingered in every room, every piece of furniture, every shadow of your life together.

Looking back now, it feels selfish. You left him here, surrounded by the remnants of your relationship, without considering how he might feel. While you escaped to a fresh start, he was left to live among the echoes of what you once had.

Lugging him into the flat, his legs are working in tandem with you now unlike before but he still isn’t proving to be the easiest person to carry. The last time you had to hold his weight like this was when he got drunk at your prom after taking sneaky shots in the hotel garden with his friends. It was funny, but you blame him for some of your back pain that you’ve endured in your early twenties.

As you push open the door and step into the living room, a wave of nostalgia washes over you like a tsunami. Though only seven months have passed, it feels like a lifetime since you last stood in this space with him by your side. Everything remains unchanged, frozen in time since the day you left.

The same couch sits in its familiar spot, adorned with throw pillows and blankets you bought for last season. Photographs of you both, captured during Christmases and holidays, adorn the walls, each one a snapshot of happier times when life seemed so simple and easy. Even the vase that his mum had gotten you both for your housewarming gift, one that you loved and he hated, remains in its pride of place on the mantlepiece.

You shake the thoughts away and guide Jongseong toward the bedroom. Each step feels heavy, as you’re encompassed with memories that surround you. He’s been living in a time capsule, and while you’re struggling to look at it all now, you wonder how he has managed to endure it for all these months.

His arm is slung over your shoulder as his weight presses down on you, however, it’s the feeling of his nose brushing against your hair that nearly stops you in your tracks. He breathes in deeply, and for a brief moment, it feels like he’s trying to ground himself in the familiarity of you.

You help Jongseong onto the bed, propping him up carefully. “I’m going to grab you some clean boxers, okay?” you say softly. He doesn’t respond, lost in his own haze, so you move toward the drawers on the other side of the room.

Walking over, you spot a familiar t-shirt lying crumpled on your old side of the bed. You make a b-line to investigate it and as you pick up the crumpled t-shirt, a flood of memories washes over you, transporting you back to simpler times. Your fingers trace the familiar fabric, still faintly carrying the scent of you, now mingled with his cologne. You piece it all together pretty quickly, the way it still smells faintly of you but is not starting to be overpowered by his cologne. He hugs it at night to find peace of mind.

“Oh, Jjongie,” you sigh, heart reaching out to him. You’re no better, you have one of his hoodies that you snuck into your luggage as you packed and wear it when you’re at home. Just like your t-shirt, his hoodie is starting to lose its scent from the amount of times you’ve hugged yourself to sleep in it.

You’re no better, though. You think of the hoodie you tucked into your suitcase before you left, the one you’ve worn so many times on nights when the loneliness felt unbearable. Its scent is fading too, just like this shirt, but you still cling to it, just as he clings to this. Both of you, in your own quiet ways, are holding onto the fragments of a love neither of you has been able to let go of.

Jongseong has always been reserved, his emotions carefully guarded behind a facade of reason and rationale. To see him like this, vulnerable and raw, strikes a chord deep within you. If he had always worn his heart on his sleeve, perhaps it would be easier to understand. But the complexity of his emotions only serves to deepen the ache in your chest.

You place the t-shirt back on the pillow before opening the dresser drawer and retrieve a clean pair of boxers, his favourite ones with the faded Hello Kitty print that you've always teased him about.

Gently, you begin to undress him while he rambles incoherent nonsense that you can’t understand between the mix of tears and drunk slurring. The top half is easy but the bottom half proves difficult as he only looks up at you, whispering pleas as he stares at you, keeping his bum firmly sat on the edge of the bed.

As you finally manage to remove Jongseong's jeans and boxers, leaving him naked, a new layer of vulnerability settles over the room. He sits before you bathed in the soft glow of the hallway light, his silhouette outlined in the darkness.

"Stay with me," he whispers, his voice a gentle plea as his hands begin to roam your sides, tracing the contours of your body beneath your shirt. Each touch ignites a flurry of sensations within you, sending butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

His beauty, illuminated by the faint light, is both captivating and heartbreaking. The familiarity of his form, once etched in your memory, now lays before you in the flesh, a tangible reminder of the love you still harbour for him. How could you not still love him? He was perfect in every way possible.

He pulls you onto his lap, your sweatpants becoming the barrier between his cock and your pussy. Yet, none of you are really thinking about that right now, all you both want is to hold one another again.

“Jongseong, we broke up, and for good reason,” you rationalise with not only him but yourself as you find yourself sinking into his touch as his hands roam your back.

Nuzzling his nose against yours, he begins to cry softly again, his face rubbing itself against yours as his tears transfer from his cheeks to yours, “Please, baby, don’t leave me,” he

mumbles as his lips ghost over yours.

He doesn’t just mean tonight, he means forever. A tear from your eye cascades down your face, getting lost in the mixture of his, your empathy for him overwhelming you because you feel the same way he does. You need him in every way, you need to be close to him, to feel his heart beating in synch with yours once again.

But you know better than this. You’re both just prolonging heartache if you succumb to being with him again. You can’t give each other what you need.

“Baby, don’t do this,” you beg him, knowing that he has the power to pull you back into his life with the click of his fingers, that resolve you have worked so hard to build up now hangs in the balance, “Let me get you changed and then into bed, yeah?”

Reasoning with him is a lost cause, his arms now hugging you tightly like before as he ignores your suggestion. The last thing he wants is to put on those boxers because he knows when he does that you’ll leave.

"Please, baby," his voice is raw with emotion, his desperation palpable in the air between you. And as you look into his eyes, you see the depth of his longing mirrored in your own.

His plea hangs in the air, a heavy weight pressing down on your already burdened heart. You feel torn between the overwhelming desire to give in to his request and the harsh reality of the situation.

With a deep breath, you summon the strength to gently extricate yourself from his embrace, feeling the weight of his disappointment lingering in the air. His hurt expression tugs at your heartstrings, but you shake your head firmly, "Just tonight, okay?" you assure him, your voice soft but resolute.

Curse you and your heart that caves into his pleas so easily.

You disregard getting him dressed and instead, remove your sweatpants and replace them with those very boxers you planned to adorn him with and swap out your t-shirt for the one on your old pillow. Jongseong clumsily climbs into his covers, getting comfortable and finding some happiness in the fact that you’ll be in his arms at least for a little while.

Once you climb into your side of the bed, he instinctively hugs you from behind, the comfort of your body pressed against his. He spoons you from behind, tucking his face in your neck as he exhales in contentment. This is all he has been craving since that night you left and he couldn’t be happier. All the turmoil and anguish from earlier slowly depletes as he finds himself sinking into a much-needed sleep.

You can’t deny you feel the same, his arms wrapped around you feel like home, like you’ve been on a seven-month business trip and you’re now finally back where you belong. You sink into him further, relishing his skin against yours.

“Happy birthday, Jjongie,” you whisper, bringing his hand up to kiss it before intertwining your fingers with his.

_____

Waking up, Jongseong feels like his whole body has crashed into a brick wall. His bones ache and his head feels tight, but there is a weight that feels so familiar yet foreign, his legs tangled around something and his arms holding it close. This feels different from the t-shirt of yours he clings to every night, this has more substance.

Please don’t be some random girl he thinks to himself, scared to open his eyes.

Even if he wanted to open his eyes, he couldn’t - they were sealed shut, held together by something stubborn. Had he been crying last night? Wait, what did happen last night?

Fragments of the evening begin to resurface as he sifts through the haze: Jake and Sunghoon dragging him to Haven, the chaotic vibe of the bar, and the questionable decision to ride the mechanical bull. After that? A blank.

As he struggles to piece it all together, you watch him futilely attempt to pry his eyes open. Deciding to help, you gently swipe your thumb across his lids, clearing away the dried remnants of tears and sleep. His body tenses at your touch, his expression clouded with confusion.

Was he hallucinating? The sensation felt so real - too real. Or maybe the girl he brought home last night had a touch uncannily like yours. God, he hoped it was the first one.

Opening his eyes with your help, he blinks away the blur and sets his eyes on your face, his expression reading one of relief that quickly turns into astonishment.

“Y/N? Baby?” he whispers, his hands instinctively reaching for your cheek, “Please be real.” The same words he pleaded out last night leave his lips again. Jongseong has spent so many nights dreaming of you, wishing in an alternative universe that he can hold you again, so much so that this doesn’t feel real.

You don’t know what to say but obviously, you have to say something. It was one thing to confront drunk Jongseong who didn’t have a wit about him but now it feels like there’s a boulder on your chest as you try to conjure up the courage to speak to a sober, semi-alert Jongseong.

All you can do is nod, no words escaping your dried lips. You look down to see you and his limbs mangled together just like they used to be, the feeling of his body pressed so tightly against yours almost feels like heaven.

He takes in the sight of you, the lines of disbelief on his features soften, replaced by a glimmer of hope. Slowly, almost tentatively, he reaches out to you, his fingers brushing against your cheek as if to confirm your presence.

The touch sends a jolt of electricity coursing through you, he’s caressing your cheek so tenderly it reminds you of the time you had the shift from hell and Jongseong held you the whole night, whispering sweet words into your ear and stroking your tears away, just like this.

Except there are no tears this time, you’re all cried out - months of mourning the loss of your relationship will do that to you.

As Jongseong's eyes meet yours, a flicker of recognition passes through them, followed by a wave of embarrassment. His voice is soft as he speaks, a hint of uncertainty lacing his words, "What are you doing here?" he asks, his tone laden with confusion.

"You got pretty drunk last night," understatement "And Jake asked me to come pick you up."

You can feel the tension in the air as Jongseong processes your words, his expression a mixture of shame and regret, "Sorry, I don't usually drink that much," he murmurs, his voice tinged with remorse.

The explanation stings, not because Jongseong has been drinking more, but because of the distance it creates between you. It's as if he's explaining himself to a stranger, rather than to the person who once knew him better than anyone else. The past six years you’ve known how he knows his limit and that he doesn’t tend to breach it, not subconsciously.

All you do is nod, accepting his explanation as you slowly start to detangle yourself from him, “I better get going.”

“Y/N, please let's talk,” he pleads as his voice wavers, his grip tightening around your waist, and his desperation palpable as he pleads for your attention. But you've made up your mind, and no amount of persuasion can sway you from the path you've chosen.

"Jongseong, please, let's not do this," you implore, your voice tinged with a mixture of sorrow and resolve, "We're only going to hurt ourselves again."

You both know the reasons behind your breakup are deeply rooted, immutable truths that cannot be changed. It's not a matter of cheating or petty disagreements - this is about fundamental differences in desires and aspirations for the future.

But Jongseong refuses to accept defeat, his forehead coming to rest against yours as he breathes his love out, "Princess, we can work it out, I know we can," he insists, his words heavy with sincerity.

You steel yourself against the onslaught of his love, knowing that to give in would only prolong the inevitable pain, "We want different things, Jjongie," you remind him gently, your voice tinged with regret.

“I can do without them. It’s you I can’t live without…I can’t breathe without you here by my side.” His words are sincere and you know it, but you can’t accept it. When you both discussed your future, he looked so excited at the prospect of kids that your heart broke instantly. You knew right away that you couldn’t give him what he wanted most.

Closing your eyes and sucking in the bottom of your cheeks, you steady yourself to have this conversation yet again, “You can’t give up the idea of having kids. Having the life you want is much more important than me. You can find someone who can give you that.”

It hurts to say but you need to rip the bandaid off quickly.

“You think I want that life with anyone but you?” His voice raises lightly, hinting at the anger rising into his chest. He needs you to listen to him, to understand him, “Y/N, if it’s not with you then I don’t want that life.”

Shaking your head determinedly, you sit up, “But I can’t give you that life, it’s not what I want.” You feel like you’re reliving the argument that ended it all those months ago.

“That’s okay-”

“No, It’s not,” It’s your turn to get angry and interrupt him, your eyebrows lacing together as you try to read him. How can he say all of this so easily? Like he wasn’t trying to promise you that he would change his entire life plan just to be with you. Is it romantic? Sure, but it’s also fucking stupid. No one should change just to keep someone they love because if they were meant to be, then their values would align…right?

"It's not that simple, Jongseong," you argue through the silence, your voice tinged with frustration, "You can't just sweep aside your dreams for the sake of our relationship. What about what you want? What about your own happiness?"

Jongseong sits up, the covers hiding his naked lower half; he hadn’t realised he was naked and it only adds a new layer to his vulnerability. He is truly laying himself bare to you.

But Jongseong's gaze remains unwavering, his determination evident in the set of his jaw, "Since we broke up, I've realised that you are the life I want," he declares, his words carrying the weight of his conviction, "Whatever that looks like for you, I want it."

You feel his words like a pickaxe, slowly breaking away at the wall you’ve spent months building around your heart and reason. A whirlwind of conflicting emotions sweeps over you. On one hand, his declaration of love sparks a glimmer of hope amidst the ruins of your fractured relationship. Yet, on the other hand, doubt claws at your insides, gnawing away at any semblance of certainty, the pure love that you have for him only wishes to make sure he’s happy and gets everything he wants in life.

"Jongseong, I..." you start, your voice wavering as you grapple with the turmoil inside. How do you express the depth of your feelings?

Grabbing your face with his large hands, he kisses you, his soft lips now coating yours. You’ve missed him so much that you become overwhelmed by his actions, a soft tear leaking from your ducts.

So much for being all cried out, you think to yourself.

"It's you, Y/N, I only need you," Jongseong whispers against your lips, his urgency evident as he seeks solace in the warmth of your embrace, stealing kisses with a hunger born from longing.

In spite of yourself, you find your lips responding to his touch, drawn in by the familiar sensation of his mouth against yours. Your arms instinctively wrap around him, fingers grazing lightly over the muscles of his back as you hold him close; your brain is telling you to push him away but your heart is pulling him tighter to you.

"It's not fair to you, Jjongie," you murmur, the words weighted with a sense of guilt and remorse.

"I'd rather be with you happily than with kids and someone else miserably," Jongseong confesses, his words carrying the weight of his heart's deepest desires.

Jongseong wishes you could see it from his point of view; of course, he has wanted kids and a comfortable life for so long but the idea of achieving that when you are not his wife seems fucking ridiculous. There is no one in this world he wants to be with other than you and if that means he has to be an uncle rather than a dad, so be it.

You are all he has ever wanted. To grow old with you, to experience each of your accomplishments together and have you close to him. He wants to protect you and look after you the way he knows he should and that is his new life goal. This isn’t a decision he has made lightly but a decision he wanted to make.

His hands glide down your sides, trailing over your thighs as his kisses continue, each touch a manifestation of the craving that has consumed him. His need for you is overwhelming, every fibre of his being yearning for you in every possible way. Another moment without you feels unbearable, as if he might die.

You surrender to his touch, sinking back onto the bed as he hovers above you, his grip on your thighs firm yet tender. The intensity of his desire leaves marks, but in this moment, you welcome anything he offers.

It's astonishing how the feel of his lips on yours dismantles your resolve, scattering your apprehensions like leaves in the wind.

Slowly, he removes from you the t-shirt that has absorbed his tears on countless nights and the boxers you borrowed from him, leaving you exposed beneath him. As he looks upon your naked figure, his eyes drink in every curve and contour, offering silent gratitude to the heavens for letting him have you like this. You are everything he wants and more.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Y/N,” he whispers into your mouth as he presses his body hard against yours, his member rubbing itself against your folds.

The feeling of him rubbing against you is enough to elicit a moan. No amount of toys was enough to satisfy you, not the way Jongseong could. Over the years you learned about one another’s bodies so intimately that no one could ever know you the way he does, not even yourself.

You couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping with someone else, even if you and Jongseong had broken up, your heart couldn’t do it. You never even considered a one night stand because deep down you knew that your body belonged to Jongseong and no one else.

He moves his hips, slowly rubbing himself against you, the bell of his cock grazing your clit teasingly. It feels like a dream for him to touch you this way again, and the fact that you were coating his cock with your wetness was enough to tell him that you need this too.

Kissing you desperately, his tongue darts into your mouth and swirls with yours as he seeks to taste you, his buds dancing along with yours. He moans into your mouth and acts as an echo of his love for you.

“I missed you so much,” he whispers as his hips continue to move slowly, teasing your hole with his tip each time he draws back. It’s becoming increasingly obvious how much it’s starting to irritate you, your need to have him inside you is evident in your whines of frustration.

"I missed you too, baby. More than anything," you confess, your hand finding his cock as you press against him, seeking to create greater friction between you. With each movement, the pressure builds, sending waves of pleasure coursing through both of you.

With each synchronised movement, the tension between you mounts, the desire for one another lingering in the warm air. His hips continue their slow, teasing rhythm, each brush against your core sending sparks of want up your heat and into your chest.

Feeling the urgency building within you, you guide his cock with precision, pressing it against your eager entrance. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you feel the head of his length dip into you only slightly, the anticipation of being filled with him heightening your senses.

"Please," you whisper, your voice laden with need and longing, a plea for him to take you.

With a teasing grin, Jongseong relents to your plea, but not in the way you expected. Instead of thrusting into you the way you want him to, he trails his fingertips along the curves of your body, igniting a trail of fire in his wake. His touch is light and tantalising, tracing patterns across your skin as he savours every moment. He wants to take his time with you, no matter how much his dick longs to be surrounded by your walls.

You like to be teased even for a little bit, the payoff at the end always hits the right spot.

You squirm beneath his touch, aching for more, but he continues with deliberate slowness. His fingers dance over your heated flesh, exploring every inch of your body with an intimacy that leaves you breathless. Each caress sends shivers down your spine, building the anticipation to unbearable heights. God, you missed his hands all over you.

As his right hand dips lower, he begins tracing circles around your sensitive clit and you can't help but arch your back in pleasure, a soft moan escaping your lips. The sensation is electrifying, sending waves coursing through your body as he expertly teases you.

Feeling your body tremble with anticipation, his touch becomes more urgent as he presses his fingers against your throbbing clit h and with practised skill, he begins to move faster, applying just the right amount of pressure to have you writhing beneath him.

“You look so fucking perfect, all desperate and whiney like this, Princess,” he says as he leans down to kiss you, breathing in deeply through his nose as he tries to fill each of his senses with you. It wasn’t just enough to feel you, he wanted to taste you, to inhale your scent, to hear you cry out for him, to see you unravel beneath him.

Your breath catches in your throat as the intensity of his touch sends you spiralling towards the edge of bliss. Each stroke of his fingers drives you closer to the brink, your body humming with the need to let go.

But just as you feel yourself teetering on the edge, Jongseong suddenly slows his movements, drawing out the pleasure with agonising slowness. It's a torturous tease, the brief moments of intensity followed by long, drawn-out strokes that leave you gasping for more.

“Please, please, please, Jjongie,” you whimper in frustration, your body aching for release as Jongseong continues to play you like a symphony, alternating between fast and slow, building the tension to unbearable levels. Just when you think you can't take it anymore, he finally gives in, his fingers dipping into your heat and thrusting into you at a rough pace, your pussy soaking his digits as he coaxes out your orgasm.

“You’re clamping down on my fingers so hard, Baby, you gonna cum?” he asks arrogantly, knowing that with each curl of his finger, he is watching your body lose control and surrender to him.

Nodding quickly, you pull him down for a long, searing kiss as his thumb joins the party and flicks your clit rapidly, “Oh my god,” you moan out into his mouth through bated breaths, “I’m gonna cum, Jongseong, please can I cum?”

“You never have to ask baby,” he moves his mouth to your ear and lightly nibbles your lobe, “Cum for me, Princess,” he gently commands.

Jongseong continues to work his magic, his fingers moving with expert precision as he guides you through the throes of ecstasy. Your vision blurs and every nerve in your body hums with pleasure as you reach the pinnacle of bliss.

With a final, desperate cry, you let go, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You arch your back and cry out his name as pleasure consumes you, your body trembling with the intensity of it all.

His fingers remain still inside you, but his thumb maintains its relentless pace, each swipe sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your body. Your hips instinctively twitch in response, your nub throbbing with sensitivity and yearning for a respite. Yet, Jongseong shows no signs of letting up, his determined flicking only intensifying.

"You like that, baby?" Jongseong's voice is hoarse with desire as he intently watches your reactions. His eyes are dark with need as he continues to work you with wild desire.

Your senses are overwhelmed by sensations pouring through you, so you can only respond with a gasping nod. Every single nerve in your body is buzzing with ecstasy, and all you can think of is the delicious agony of his thumb against your delicate clit.

"Tell me what you want, Princess," he asks, his voice a seductive whisper in your ear, "Do you want more?"

You can only make a frantic plea, your words barely comprehensible in the middle of intense pleasure. "Yes, please, Jongseong... More..."

Jongseong's lips curl into a wicked grin as he hears your plea, his confidence growing with each breathless gasp that escapes your lips. With a teasing twinkle in his eye, he moves his fingers again, pressing them against your contracting walls, his hot breath ghosting over your ear as he speaks.

"What do you want, Y/N?" he whispers, his voice dripping with anticipation, "Tell me, and I'll give it to you."

Your mind is a haze of desire, but amidst the fog, one thought stands out clear and demanding. You need him inside you, filling you completely with his presence. With trembling hands, you reach for him, your fingers curling around his cock, guiding him to where you need him most, pushing his hand out of the way.

"I want you," you whisper, your voice trembling with need. "I want all of you, Jongseong." When you utter the words, there’s a deeper meaning to them, a meaning that Jongseong is clinging to.

The way your fingers wrap around his rock-hard member elicits a hiss from him, your touch mixed with your words only fuels him to give you everything you need.

Jongseong lets out a guttural groan, entirely surrendering to your touch and words. His eyes darken with want as he watches you take control, and his breath quickens with anticipation as you guide him inside you. His breath coming in ragged gasps, he looks into your eyes with a mixture of desire and adoration, "God, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice rough with need, “You feel so fucking incredible. I’ve missed how you just suck me in like this.”

You look down and watch as his entire length gets lost in your heat, his cock’s head hitting deep within you. You’ve missed how he fills you up so much but you hadn’t realised just how badly until right now as he shallowly thrusts into you.

You respond with a low moan of pleasure, your nails digging into his skin as you pull him closer, urging him to go deeper. "Yes, Jongseong," you whisper, your voice laced with longing, "just like that. I need this so much, I need you."

With each thrust, he grunts in response, his movements becoming more desperate as he seeks to satisfy your every desire, "I'm yours, Y/N," he declares, his voice filled with raw emotion, "completely and utterly yours."

As he lifts your legs and closes them, gently draping them over his left shoulder, your warmth envelops his shaft, drawing him in closer. Jongseong relishes the sensation of your tightness, revelling in the snug embrace of your canal around him. And you too find delight in the pressure of his girth, relishing the way he stretches you further with every powerful thrust.

Each movement of his hips is deliberate, each one designed to bring you both closer to the edge of ecstasy. As his hands stroke your legs tenderly, contrasting with the intensity of his thrusts, you find yourself lost in the intoxicating rhythm of your bodies moving as one.

His jerks grow more intense, the pace quickening as he drives deeper into you, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge, "You feel so good," he groans, his voice filled with unrestrained passion, "so fucking perfect for me, Princess."

In response, you curve your back and meet his thrusts with equal conviction, the heat between you building to an almost euphoric level. "Jongseong," you exclaim, your voice a symphony of fulfilment, "don't stop, please don't stop."

Jongseong intensifies his efforts with a wild growl, each movement driven by a burning need to push you to the edge of satisfaction and beyond. At this moment, there is only you and him, burned by the fires of passion.

With a swift motion, your lover bends you in half, positioning your legs by your head as he quickens his already rapid pace. Lost in a whirlwind of desire, your eyes roll back and your hands instinctively grip his shoulders, your chest heaving with each forceful thrust of his cock. Your nails dig into his skin, leaving marks on his shoulder blades as you cling to him, lost in the intensity of the moment.

Feeling the sting of your nails, he grits his teeth and strains his neck, the veins in his temples pulsating as he fights the overwhelming urge to release inside you right then and there.

“Fuck, claw my back, Baby,” he growls, his voice thick with desire, “make me yours again.” With determination, he continues to pound into you, each movement bringing you closer to your shared orgasm.

After hearing Jongseong’s go-ahead, you dig into his back, dragging your nails across his skin, leaving fiery red lines in their wake, just like he wants. It burns him in the most delectable way, making his cock throb inside of you.

Your breaths combine in the air, creating an ensemble of desire as you both reach the edge. The tension between you grows with each thrust, a crescendo of want reaching its peak.

As he slams into you furiously, his voice fills the room with urgency, "You gonna cum again, Princess? You want it?" His words are a mixture of want and domination, starting a fire inside you that threatens to consume everything in its path.

With a firm nod, you meet his gaze, your eyes brimming with want. "Yes, Jongseong, please," you beg, your voice a frantic appeal for release once again.

In response, he increases his efforts, his motions growing more frenzied as he propels you both to your orgasms. And then, with a final, strong thrust, you shatter, your body convulsing from the ferocity of your release. Jongseong follows closely behind, his own climax mirroring yours as he finds release within you, “Fuck!”

His body stills as he shoots his seed into you, the tremble of both your bodies vibrates the bed beneath you. Finding it hard to keep himself up, he falls onto you, moving his cock into you further, only drawing out a final moan from your lips.

After a couple of minutes, Jongseong rolls over, his chest heaving up and down rapidly. God, he missed the way you feel under him, he could go another ten rounds if you asked.

But that would mean you would stay, and is that even something you want? He doesn’t want to ask, your answer being the deciding factor of whether he goes on his life with misery or happiness.

He knows he can’t force you into this relationship but he hopes he has done enough to convince you that you are all he wants.

“Please be with me again, Y/N. I can’t live without you,” he whispers into the air, not daring to look at you.

You on the other hand only want to look at him, to see if you can really try this again, “Even if it means no kids? No playdates with other parents? No family trips to Jeju?”

“Even without all that.” He does look sincere, his eyes now burning into yours with a new lease of determination.

The truth is, you’ve missed him so much that it hurts. Behind the strong facade is just a girl who misses her lover. Being without him is like being in a fire with no escape, constantly fighting your way out of a blaze while your lungs collapse. He’s the clear path to fresh air you desperately need, there is no denying it. And clearly, he thinks the same about you.

Seeing him last night so fragile and broken engulfed you in the flames, burning you alive because you know that you feel every ounce of hurt that he is. It was a mirror to how you were feeling and you don’t think you knew how badly you needed him until that moment. You were trying to be so strong about it all, giving yourself only a short amount of time to grieve that as you looked at Jongseong last night, you know he has done the same.

You need one another to extinguish the fire.

“Jongseong, truly think about this, this isn’t me saying no to letting you go on a lads holiday, I’m denying you the opportunity to be a father,” you plead with him one last time, giving him an out to all of this as you lay it all on the table.

“Princess, I have had seven months to think about it. I am not compromising or altering my needs for you, this is a decision that I have made on my own. If I truly wanted the life I thought I did, I wouldn’t be begging you to be with me right now. I know this isn’t an easy choice but I have never been more sure about anything in my life.”

Jongseong kisses all over your face, each one a receipt of his sincerity.

His words strike straight into your heart. He’s serious. A part of you wants to still feel guilty like you’re forcing him into this but on the other hand, he’s right. You’ve given him a multitude of opportunities to leave and find a girl who will cater to him, but he hasn’t.

He doesn’t need to because all he needs is you and your love, to Jongseong, that is all he needs in his life.

“Okay, but if you ever change your min-”

He interjects with a kiss, one filled with so much happiness and love that it’s almost intoxicating; either that or all the booze in his system has transferred its way into your bloodstream.

You giggle as he rolls over on top of you again, peppering loud and wet kisses all over your face and neck akin to a dog licking you from utter joy. Your hands try to fight him off playfully, your laugh growing louder as he nuzzles into your neck.

“Oh, wait!” Your lover's sudden pause catches your attention, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he swiftly rolls off the bed and rushes over to the messy pile on the chair by his dresser.

Curious, you crane your neck to see what he's up to, watching as he retrieves something from the floor.

“What is it?” you inquire, intrigued by his enthusiasm.

Turning back to you, Jongseong holds up the familiar torn sheet of paper that you recognise instantly, his smile lighting up his face. He grabs a pen from the desk and returns to your side, handing you both items.

“Tick it off,” he urges, pointing to the bottom of the page where a new addition was made yesterday morning. Despite his internal conflict about the list, he couldn't bring himself to tear it up. If he never saw you again, this would be a precious memory to hold onto.

So he added a new aspiration at the bottom.

Taking the pen from his hand, you read it slowly, “Make Y/N mine again..”

You gaze up at him in awe, understanding the significance of this gesture and how much the list means to him, “You wished for this?” you ask, to which he simply nods at your question, “Then you need to tick it off.” You push the pen and paper back to him but he stops you.

“No, you made the wish come true, so you need to tick it off,” he replies, the corners of his lips upturning slightly.

So, with the pen, you draw a line over the words, scoring it off once and for all as you beam proudly, happy that both of your souls are now joined together again. You pull him in for a long, deep kiss, the bucket list discarded as you lose yourselves in the moment once again.

“Happy birthday, Jjongie,” you say, even if you are a day late.

#enhypen smut #enha smut #jay smut #jongseong smut #aj writes #enha x reader #enhypen x reader #jay x reader

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sayyakii · 2 days ago

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Enemy yandere boy headcanons

CW: Obsessive/possessive tendencies, stalking, emotional manipulation, physical proximity.

Pairing: Enemy yandere boy x fem!reader

Synopsis: Enemy yandere boy he’s always been cold, distant, and seemingly hostile towards you, but that’s just a mask. Beneath it, he’s been watching, waiting, and obsessing over you. A simple accident forces you into his orbit. You realize he’ll do anything to make you his.

A/N : Hey everyone, this is my first time writing something like this, and I really hope you enjoy it! If you're interested in part two, feel free to let me know. I’d love to hear your thoughts, so don’t hesitate to share them! Comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. <3

Enemy yandere boy who swears he hates you. He won’t even look at you when everyone’s around, acting like you don’t exist. But the second no one’s watching, his eyes are locked on you, dark and possessive, like he’s memorizing every detail.

Enemy yandere boy who makes sure no one teases or bullies you. He doesn’t let anyone lay a finger on you, even though he’s the first to criticize you.

Enemy yandere boy who criticizes everything you do. "You call that your best?" "Pathetic." He’s harsh and relentless, picking apart even the smallest things. But deep down, it’s all just an excuse to talk to you, to make sure he’s always on your mind.

Enemy yandere boy who secretly keeps everything that belongs to you. A pen you dropped, a crumpled note, even the wrapper from the candy you ate. His room is like a shrine, filled with tiny pieces of you that he treasures his collection is hidden away, and sometimes he finds himself tracing his fingers over the items, imagining what it would feel like to hold you instead.

Enemy yandere boy who pretends not to care but watches your every move. He knows your schedule better than you do, showing up “coincidentally” wherever you are. Every smile, every laugh, every glance it all belongs to him, even if you don’t know it yet.

Enemy yandere boy who sees you as the love of his life, even if he’ll never admit it. You’re his obsession, his everything. No one else could ever come close, and he’ll make sure you realize it someday even if it means scaring away everyone else until you’re his.

Enemy yandere boy who enjoys making you angry. The fire in your eyes, the way your voice rises when you yell at him it’s intoxicating. He pushes your buttons just to see you react, knowing it’s the closest he can get to seeing the passion he craves from you.

Enemy yandere boy who acts like he doesn’t care but can’t stand seeing you with anyone else. His jaw clenches, his fists tighten, and his eyes darken with a possessiveness he can barely control. You’re his, even if you don’t know it yet.

Enemy yandere boy who corners you in an empty hallway, his breath warm against your ear as he leans in close. “You drive me crazy, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous.

Enemy yandere boy who pulls you closer than necessary during a confrontation, his hand gripping your wrist just a little too tightly. The tension crackles between you, and for a moment, you can’t tell if he’s about to yell at you or kiss you.

Enemy yandere boy who leaves you wondering where the line between hate and desire truly lies. His words may be cruel, but his actions tell a different story.

Enemy yandere boy who wasn’t supposed to be at the party or at least that’s what you had told yourself when you first arrived. It was a small gathering for students who had helped with the annual school event, and you were sure he wasn’t on the list. Yet, somehow, he was here.

Enemy yandere boy who caught your attention the moment he entered the room. The dim party lights reflected off his sharp features, and his usual cold, calculating expression was replaced with something unreadable. You could feel his presence, even from across the room, as if the air shifted the second he arrived.

Enemy yandere boy who didn’t bother mingling or making small talk like the others. Instead, his piercing eyes scanned the room until they found you. When your gazes locked, his lips parted slightly, and you noticed the way he swallowed hard, as if trying to suppress something.

Enemy yandere boy who stayed rooted in his spot for what felt like hours, watching you like a predator stalking its prey. He couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect you looked tonight, how every move you made seemed to draw him closer to losing control.

Enemy yandere boy who finally made his move when you least expected it. You were standing near the drinks table, chatting with a friend, when he "accidentally" bumped into you, spilling his drink all over your dress.

Enemy yandere boy who stared at the mess he made, his wide, innocent eyes meeting your furious glare. For a moment, he looked genuinely shocked, as if he hadn’t meant for it to happen. But deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t entirely an accident.

Enemy yandere boy who spoke to you in a tone you’d never heard before soft, apologetic, almost tender. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I didn’t mean to…” His words trailed off, but the way he looked at you made your heart race, even though you hated it.

Enemy yandere boy who didn’t give you a chance to argue or storm off. He reached out, his hand gently wrapping around your wrist. “Let me fix this,” he said, and before you could protest, he was leading you out of the main room.

Enemy yandere boy who brought you to the restroom, his movements calm and deliberate. He grabbed a towel, wet it under the sink, and crouched down in front of you, his hands steady as he began dabbing at your dress.

Enemy yandere boy who seemed completely focused on you. The party noise faded into the background as his attention remained entirely on the task at hand. His hands brushed against the fabric of your dress, lingering slightly longer than necessary.

Enemy yandere boy who inhaled deeply as he worked, your scent filling his senses and clouding his thoughts. His mind raced with obsessive thoughts how beautiful you looked, how close he was to you, how badly he wanted you to be his.

Enemy yandere boy who made your cheeks grow hot as he crouched so close to you. His presence was overwhelming, and the way his fingers moved against the fabric of your dress sent shivers down your spine.

Enemy yandere boy who glanced up at you occasionally, his dark eyes locking onto yours for fleeting moments. You tried to ignore the way your heart raced, but his intensity was impossible to ignore.

Enemy yandere boy who froze when you finally pushed his hand away, your voice loud as you said, “Stop it. You’ve already done enough.” The sharpness in your tone didn’t faze him in fact, it seemed to make him more determined.

Enemy yandere boy who stood up slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you was heavy with unspoken tension, and you could feel the heat radiating from him.

Enemy yandere boy who stared at you with a look you couldn’t quite place a mix of longing, obsession, and something darker. “You don’t understand,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “You make it impossible for me to stay away.”

Enemy yandere boy who leaned in slightly, as if testing your reaction. His eyes burned with an intensity that made your breath hitch, and you realized that no matter how much you wanted to deny it, he had a hold on you that you couldn’t explain.

Part 2 ???

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riddleriddles · 19 hours ago

Text

ಇ margaret.

(delicate, part one)

pairing. mattheo riddle x hufflepuff!shy!reader

summary. After the night of the ball, Mattheo couldn’t shake the thoughts of that girl. No matter how hard he tried to focus on anything else, her image lingered in his mind.

add notes. hey guys, i kind of disappeared for a bit, but i’m back now (kinda of), and bringing more Mattheo because i just love him so much. I’ve been thinking about writing more and developing him a bit further, i still feel like I’m not doing him justice, so maybe there’ll be more of him from now on. And I translated this with AI this time, so let me know if it’s better than when I used Google.

visit my masterlist :)

ಇ

Mattheo was in the common room, immersed in a restless silence. The dim greenish glow of the fireplace was the only light, casting flickering shadows on the stone walls. He stared at one of the paintings hanging on the wall, his hands buried in the pockets of his trousers. His eyes, though fixed on the painting in front of him, were unfocused. His mind wandered far beyond the room, lost in thoughts he couldn’t control.

In one hand, he balanced a cigarette between his fingers, occasionally bringing it to his lips with indifference. The bitter scent of smoke mingled with the heavy air in the room, but he seemed oblivious even to that. It was late—late enough that anyone else would have already been asleep. But for Mattheo, sleep was as distant as the faint moonlight barely creeping through the tall windows.

Meanwhile, Lorenzo was speaking incessantly, his excited tone filling the nearly empty room. He was recounting some Quidditch play with exaggerated enthusiasm, repeating details Mattheo had already heard countless times. Yet, Lorenzo’s words sounded like a distant buzz. It was impossible to care.

Because all that occupied Mattheo’s mind at that moment was her.

Mattheo hated it. He hated the weight of that involuntary obsession. It was as if she had quietly slipped in and taken possession of a space within him without asking for permission. He despised how his mind betrayed him, bringing back, like a cruel reflex, the memory of that smile she had given him at the ball. A shy, unpretentious smile, but one that had planted something within him—something he couldn’t name.

He knew how to handle girls. He always had. It was an art he mastered with ease, conducting encounters and flirtations with the skill of someone who knew the game well. But she… she didn’t play. She didn’t try. She didn’t need to. In fact, she had seemed genuinely surprised when he appeared beside her that night. And that unsettled him deeply.

“Mattheo, are you listening?” Lorenzo’s voice broke his thoughts like thunder, followed by a light pinch on his arm.

Mattheo blinked, reality slowly coming back to him. “Of course I’m not,” he answered flatly.

Lorenzo rolled his eyes, used to his friend’s lack of patience. “You’ve been off since that ball. Everything alright? Or did that girl actually get to you and your cold heart?”

“Don’t start, Enzo,” Mattheo replied with a frustrated sigh, leaning forward and crushing the cigarette in the silver ashtray on the table.

“Oh, it got to you,” Lorenzo laughed, teasing. “I’ve never seen you dance before. Especially not a waltz. And with a girl.”

“I was bored,” Mattheo lied, but the excuse came out with so little conviction that even he could tell how pathetic it sounded. He leaned back on the couch, squeezing his eyes shut as if that could push away the persistent images that kept invading his mind.

But if it was just boredom, why did he keep checking every room he entered, looking for her out of the corner of his eye? Why did that damn floral perfume seem embedded in his memory, like an echo that wouldn’t leave him?

The irritation burned inside him, slow and insidious. The way she had infiltrated his thoughts, occupying a space he hadn’t offered her, made him furious. She was like a riddle—and Mattheo hated riddles. Still, he knew he wouldn’t be able to ignore her, even if he tried.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he suddenly got up. “I’m heading to the dorm,” he announced, his tone making it clear the conversation was over.

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow in surprise, but his teasing grin remained. “Good night, broken heart,” he joked, but Mattheo didn’t respond.

When Mattheo reached the dormitory, he threw himself onto the bed with a low grunt, closing his eyes in a near-desperate motion. But the darkness didn’t bring the relief he had expected. On the contrary.

The first thing his mind conjured was the image of her bidding him farewell at the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room. The soft smile she had given him as she closed the door, the light of the hall reflecting off her shiny shoes as she carefully descended the stairs, holding the hem of her dress. It was an annoyingly vivid memory.

He turned on the bed, restless. He tried to push the thoughts away, but deep down he knew it wouldn’t be that simple. She wouldn’t leave his mind so easily. Not at all.

Days passed, dragged out, as if the universe was mocking Mattheo, torturing him while repeatedly playing those thoughts about her like a broken record. He tried to distract himself, searching for anything that would take him away from the constant irritation of being at the mercy of his own mind, but everything seemed utterly ineffective. Quidditch, and even the classes—which he no longer took as seriously—failed to pull his attention away and keep her image from his thoughts. And he hated it.

One day, Mattheo decided he would focus on the Quidditch practice. The cold wind sliced through his face as he flew with absurd precision, throwing the balls against the hoops with a force that seemed to expel his frustration along with them. But even then, something still distracted him. A simple glance at the stands and he realised: he was hoping she would be there, watching him. And the anger came back with full force. “This is ridiculous,” he repeated to himself, trying to refocus on the practice, but the truth was, nothing would pull him away from her.

That evening, the Great Hall exuded a vibrant atmosphere. The enchanted ceiling reflected a starry night sky, while floating candelabras gently spread a golden light across the long House tables. The sound of conversations and laughter mixed with the clinking of cutlery against silver plates. Platters overflowed with delicacies: succulent roasts, steaming bread, and colourful desserts that emitted a comforting aroma, filling the room with warmth that contrasted with the chilly air outside.

And then, there she was.

Mattheo saw her for the first time since that ball, and she seemed, if possible, even more enchanting. She was wearing her yellow and black daily robes, sitting near the centre of the Hufflepuff table, her face softly illuminated by the light of the candelabras. Her smile stood out among the crowd, and her hair, lightly tied up, seemed to catch the light in a way that made it glow gently. She leaned forward, laughing at something someone beside her had said—a trivial scene, but to Mattheo, it felt like the entire Great Hall had bent around her, as if the very room conspired to draw his attention to her.

In that instant, the buzz of conversations around him seemed to disappear, muffled by the intensity of his focus. He quickly glanced away, blinking repeatedly as he looked at his plate, his fingers tightening around the fork he was holding, as if that could push away the growing sense of discomfort. But the scent he had already come to know—that sweet floral perfume—seemed to linger in the air, even though she was metres away, as if the universe had decided to torment him.

The Great Hall, to Mattheo, had never seemed so crowded and, at the same time, so empty.

ಇ

The cold wind cut through the air in Hogsmeade that Saturday afternoon. The clear sky allowed the sun to shine gently, while the breeze stirred the leaves and flowers, which responded with a soft, rhythmic rustling. The small village was more crowded than usual, filled with excited Hogwarts students strolling through the stone streets. Between laughter and voices, the windows of candy, clothing, and curiosity shops made for a cozy, vibrant scene.

Mattheo walked calmly, having separated from his friends only a few minutes earlier. His hands rested in his pockets, and his mind was as distant as the mountains in the background. The sounds around him were nothing but muffled noise, unable to distract him from the thoughts that haunted him incessantly: her. He tried, in every way, to find a distraction, but it seemed useless. As if the universe insisted on mocking him, his eyes found her.

She was standing in front of one of the candy shops, looking undecided about whether to go in or not. With her hands holding her coat to protect herself from the cold, her shoulders were slightly hunched against the icy breeze. Her hair shone under the soft light of the afternoon sun, moving gently with the wind. She seemed so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn’t even notice Mattheo approaching. He stopped a step ahead of her, hesitating for a moment, as if the simple act of approaching her required more effort than usual.

Then, she saw him. Her eyes widened slightly before a shy but genuine smile appeared on her face. That smile had been haunting Mattheo since the ball. She seemed surprised, as if meeting him here was the last thing she expected.

“Hi… Mattheo, right?” Her voice was soft, a little uncertain, but filled with sincere sweetness. There was a hesitation in her tone, as if she feared he might not remember her or, worse, might prefer not to speak with her.

Mattheo exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. For a brief moment, he was caught between the impact of that smile and her simple beauty. “Yeah, that’s right… What are you doing here alone… again?” he asked, a slight teasing tone slipping out unintentionally.

His eyes wandered over her face, as if trying to memorize every detail—the gentle curve of her lips, the faint blush coloring her cheeks, and the shy gleam in her eyes.

She laughed, a light and somewhat nervous sound, as her cheeks flushed a deeper pink, perhaps from the cold, perhaps from shyness. “I came to buy some chocolates. I don’t know how, but I ended up here. I think the smell of sugar drew me in.” She laughed at herself, as if finding her own distraction amusing.

Mattheo watched her closely. The calmness of that moment contrasted with the chaos that was unfolding inside him. This was the first time they were alone, without interruptions, and he realized that, although he had imagined this scene countless times in his mind, now he didn’t quite know what to say. He, who always had the right words, found himself momentarily lost. It was strange… and irritatingly fascinating.

“Actually, I was going to buy something next door…” he began, his voice coming out more casually than he had expected. “If you want company, maybe we could go together?”

She blinked, surprised, and then her eyes brightened with contained curiosity. “Sure, I’d love that. Maybe you can even help me choose something. I always get so indecisive in these candy shops.” She smiled lightly, her lips curving ever so slightly, but to Mattheo, it seemed like something monumental.

He managed a more genuine smile, feeling his own hesitation fade away. “Definitely. I’m practically an expert on chocolate, if you want to know.” He opened the door to the shop, inviting her in with a casual gesture.

Inside, the aroma of chocolate and sugar enveloped them. The conversation flowed easier than Mattheo had imagined, with her laughing softly at his ironic comments about the more eccentric sweets in the shop. He found that he enjoyed listening to her more than he had expected, and for the first time in days, his mind seemed less chaotic. It was as though being near her made everything a little clearer, a little simpler.

When they left the shop, both carrying bags full of candy, Mattheo felt a strange desire to prolong the moment. The cold wind didn’t seem so intense anymore, and the sound of her laughter echoed in his mind like music. He found himself looking at her again, noticing how the soft light of the late afternoon highlighted the delicate features of her face.

For a brief moment, he almost reached out to brush a strand of hair from her eyes, but he stopped. He didn’t want to be too forward. He didn’t know her well enough for such a casual gesture… at least, not yet.

When the sun began to set, they said their goodbyes. She smiled once more, a sweet and peaceful smile, before waving and heading toward the carriage with a friend. Mattheo stood there for a few moments, watching her walk away.

ಇ

The air around the lake was calm and serene, as still as the water that reflected the orange sky of the late afternoon. Only the subtle sound of the waves and the whisper of the wind through the trees filled the space. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a soft golden hue over everything, as if the world had paused in that moment. She sat by the lake, her legs crossed and her eyes fixed on the water’s surface, as if trying to uncover some invisible secret hidden there.

Mattheo saw her from a distance, and his breath faltered for a moment. How was it that she seemed to be everywhere lately? He knew he should simply move on, pretend he hadn’t seen her, but it felt like an impossible task. It was as though an invisible force was pulling him towards her, persistent and inevitable. Perhaps it was the way the sunlight seemed to dance in her hair, or the almost untouchable peace that seemed to surround her, in stark contrast to the chaos she always left in his mind.

He took a deep breath, pushing aside the strange shyness that only seemed to appear in her presence, and made his way over. The sound of his footsteps on the grass caught her attention, and she turned her face towards him, her eyes lighting up slightly. For a moment, she seemed surprised, but soon looked away again, returning her gaze to the lake in a calm posture, as if trying to hide any reaction.

“Do you always run off here alone?” he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets as he stopped beside her.

She shrugged slightly, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Sometimes. I like the peace here. No one comes around except in the summer.”

“I see,” he replied, sitting beside her without asking for permission, though he kept a respectful distance. “It’s the kind of place that makes you forget you’re surrounded by so many people all the time.”

“Exactly.” She nodded, turning her face towards him. Her eyes briefly examined his face, as if she was assessing his presence. “Here it feels… outside of reality.”

He nodded silently, relieved that she didn’t seem bothered by his approach. “A good place to think… or to escape,” he added lightly.

She chuckled softly, the sound delicate and almost musical. Mattheo noticed how her eyes would close slightly when she smiled, and had to look away to the water, afraid he was staring too intently.

For a few moments, silence stretched between them, but it was comfortable. The cool breeze from the lake brought a sense of calm, while the reflection of the sky on the water created an almost magical scene. Mattheo tried to think of something to say, but her natural ease made it harder than he’d like to admit.

“So, do you come here often?” he asked, his voice coming out quieter than he’d intended.

She turned her face towards him, her eyes soft and curious. “Yes, it’s one of my favourite places at the castle.”

He nodded, feeling a small satisfaction from learning something more about her. Any detail was valuable.

“I hope I’m not disturbing your peace,” he teased, a slight smile playing at the corner of his lips.

She shook her head quickly, sincerity in her response. “Of course not. It’s nice to have company sometimes.”

Her answer caught him off guard, and he felt a more genuine smile spread across his face. But realising how silly it must have looked, he cleared his throat and turned his gaze to the lake, picking up a stone from the shore. He tossed it expertly, and the small rock skipped across the water three times before sinking.

“You’re good at that,” she commented, sounding a bit impressed. “I didn’t know it was one of your talents.”

“There are many things about me you don’t know,” he replied, with a teasing tone, though not daring to look at her directly. He didn’t notice the faint blush that coloured her cheeks.

She laughed softly, but didn’t respond, and that left him restless. He didn’t want the conversation to end there.

“Do you want to try?” He offered her another stone.

She hesitated for a moment before taking the stone from his hand, her fingers brushing his briefly. It was a brief touch, but one that left a warm trace in his mind. She threw the stone with a little less force than necessary, and it sank almost immediately.

She laughed at herself, that sweet, light sound he wanted to hear forever. “Clearly, I’m not as talented as you.”

Mattheo chuckled at her failed attempt, but, to him, it was adorable. Everything about her was adorable—the way she spoke, how she smiled, how she moved. He was lost for her, and he knew it.

“It just takes practice,” he said, trying to keep his tone casual while holding back a smile.

The afternoon passed with laughter, casual conversation, and more attempts on her part to skip stones across the lake, all equally disastrous. But Mattheo didn’t mind. In fact, he preferred it this way. Any excuse to stay beside her, watching every little detail, was more than enough.

And as the sun began to hide behind the trees, casting the sky in deeper tones, Mattheo realised that his affection for her was growing at an almost alarming rate. But he didn’t want to stop.

ಇ

During Herbology class, the afternoon was warm. The students were scattered around the garden, working with the magical and exotic plants they were being taught to handle. Professor Sprout was observing closely, walking between the rows, supervising everyone’s efforts.

She was focused, struggling with a bold plant that had, without warning, begun to wind itself around her arm. With every movement she made, the plant tightened, as though it had a mind of its own and no friendly intentions.

“Oi! All right there?” Mattheo’s voice suddenly called, close enough to startle her. He approached with that playful smile on his lips, and she hadn’t realised he had been watching her since the beginning of the class.

She jumped slightly, turning to face him while still fighting against the stubborn plant. “I’m fine, yeah,” she replied with a slightly awkward smile, trying to cover up the disastrous situation. “It’s just… I haven’t quite figured out how to deal with this little plant.”

Mattheo laughed. He found it adorable how, even with the plant practically choking her arm, she still tried to maintain composure. But he could see right through the façade.

“Here, let me help,” he offered, stepping close enough for her to catch a faint whiff of his cologne, mixed with a trace of cigarette smoke on his robes. It wasn’t unpleasant, but unmistakable.

Now, with him so close, she noticed details she hadn’t before: the discreet scar on his cheek that she’d never noticed, and another that she liked to observe on the tip of his nose.

He wasn’t wearing the usual green and black Slytherin cloak, only the white shirt and loosely tied tie. His sleeves rolled up revealed strong forearms. With an absurd ease, he began untangling the plant from her arm.

“Is this all you can do? Let a little plant tear you to pieces?” he asked in a mocking tone, inspecting the marks the plant had left.

“Or do you like the pain?” He laughed, gently taking her hand to examine it more closely. His hands were cold and rough, but the touch, surprisingly, was gentle, as though he was trying not to hurt her more.

“Of course not, shut up!” She quickly replied, giving him a playful tap on the shoulder while letting out a light laugh. “It’s just that this plant, in particular, is a bit more… complex.”

“Complex?” A smile formed on his face. “It’s just another stupid plant,” he said, gently releasing her arm. His words made her give him a small frown.

“That’s what you think!” She shot back, pointing a finger directly at his chest. “This ‘stupid plant’ is worth the effort if you learn how to deal with it”

“Ah, right. And I suppose you know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?” He teased, with a mischievous smile. She squinted her eyes at him, clearly not finding it funny.

“I’ll learn, alright?” She replied firmly, though he doubted her conviction would last long.

Mattheo chuckled quietly, stepping back a bit and crossing his arms while watching her with an amused— and something more, something he kept carefully hidden— look. “Oh, I’m sure you will.”

Determined, she tried again. She touched the plant carefully, moving her other hand with a pair of scissors, but it didn’t work. As soon as she got too close, the plant grabbed her arm again, this time with more force, causing her to bite her cheek in an attempt to hold back the pain.

Mattheo rolled his eyes as he watched her make the same mistake, but when he noticed the discomfort in her expression and the visibly tight grip on her arm, his face shifted. He quickly approached.

“Wait, let me take care of this,” he said, taking her arm again, this time with more urgency. He was so close that she could feel the heat radiating from him. “Relax your arm,” he instructed, his voice low and firm.

She obeyed, relaxing her arm, and after a few seconds, the plant gave way. He released it, while she quickly pulled her arm back, massaging her sore wrist.

“I’m never going to finish this task,” she complained, still rubbing the spot.

“Stop whining,” Mattheo said with a cheeky smile, his voice firm but laid-back. “You’re just being too nice to the plant. That’s not how it works.”

His words made her glare at him with a challenging look, as though silently daring him to show her something better.

“Watch and learn,” he said confidently — perhaps a bit too confidently. He stepped closer to the plant, rolling up his sleeves to avoid getting his shirt dirty. He studied the position of the roots for a few seconds before grabbing the plant with far more force than she had dared. Then, with scissors in hand, he cut the necessary parts with precision, finishing the task effortlessly.

“How can you be kind to a plant like that? That’s not how it works,” he remarked, wiping his hands with a cloth.

She watched the scene with a strange feeling growing in her stomach. It was odd seeing him so forceful with something, as he always seemed so calm and carefree. His sleeves rolled up, his strong arms, the confident manner — something about it made her blush. He looked strangely handsome in that moment.

“Hm, you’re rather good at that. Another skill of yours I had no idea existed,” she said, regaining her composure as she bent down to gather the little fruits that had fallen to the ground.

“There are plenty of things you still don’t know I’m good at,” he said casually, with an enigmatic smile.

ಇ

The cold night wind blew gently across the castle courtyard, where she sat on one of the stone benches, reviewing her notes. Mattheo, who had a habit of seeking her out at night, was leaning against a nearby column, watching her in silence while pretending to be distracted.

“You know staring at me isn’t going to help me study, right?” she asked, not taking her eyes off the parchment in front of her, though a small smile played at her lips.

“I’m not staring, I’m just—” He began, but was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching.

“Well, well, look who I find here.” Cedric Diggory’s unmistakably confident voice cut through the air, and Mattheo immediately straightened up, crossing his arms as he observed the new arrival.

She looked up, surprised, and forced a smile, a little nervous. “Hi, Cedric. Long time no see.”

Cedric stopped in front of her, his bright, warm smile — the one so many people found charming — still intact. “That’s true. I thought you’d forgotten about me.”

“Not at all,” she replied, looking away slightly, visibly uncomfortable. “But I’ve been busy with studies.”

Mattheo narrowed his eyes, observing the interaction with a neutral expression, but anyone who knew him well would notice the tension in his jaw. He stayed silent, but his gaze never left Cedric.

“Well, I’m glad to see you’re alright,” Cedric continued, completely ignoring Mattheo’s presence. He leaned in slightly, in a casual gesture, though it seemed a bit too intimate for those watching. “You know, I still feel bad about that night…”

She froze for a moment, a bit unsettled by the mention, before lowering her gaze. “Oh… Cedric, that’s in the past. No need to worry about it now.”

Mattheo frowned, curious and visibly suspicious, but he remained where he was, his hands now clenched into loose fists.

“Still, I want to apologise. You deserved someone who—”

“Cedric,” she interrupted, her voice soft but firm. Standing up from the bench, she looked away once more. “It’s really fine. I’ve gotten over it. We’re friends, right?”

Cedric’s smile faltered for a moment, but he nodded. “Of course. Friends.” He stepped back a little, seeming slightly uncomfortable. “Well, I hope to see you at the next match. It was good seeing you.”

“It was good to see you too,” she said, maintaining her calm posture, though still visibly shy.

Cedric waved one last time before walking away, finally noticing Mattheo’s presence, but not caring much about it. As soon as he disappeared down the corridor, silence hung between them.

“So…” Mattheo broke the silence, his voice laced with sarcasm. “Friends, is it?”

She rolled her eyes, sitting back down on the bench. “Yes, friends. You heard.”

“Because it seemed more like he was trying to… I don’t know… redeem himself or something,” Mattheo said, stepping closer, leaning against the bench beside her, his arms still crossed. “Is there something I should know?”

She sighed, closing the parchment. “It’s nothing important. Cedric was… just a disappointment, nothing more. And it’s in the past.”

He raised an eyebrow, the jealousy clear in his eyes. “A disappointment, huh?”

“Yes, Mattheo. A disappointment.” She looked at him seriously, though with a hint of amusement in her gaze. “And for your information, I feel absolutely nothing for him.”

“Really?” He leaned in a little, his face closer to hers. “Because it seemed like he still feels something for you.”

She shook her head, laughing lightly. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous?” He smiled, though there was something challenging in his expression. “If I’m ridiculous, then what is he?”

“Uninteresting.”

Her quick reply surprised both her and him. Mattheo blinked, looking a little less tense, and a genuine smile appeared on his lips. “Uninteresting, huh?”

She shrugged, feigning indifference. “Yes. And are you going to keep insisting on this, or will you let me finish studying?”

He watched her for a moment before grinning, leaning in even closer until their faces were dangerously near. “I think I can accept that… for now.”

Her eyes widened slightly, her heart racing at the proximity. He noticed, but instead of pulling back, he just gave her a small smile before pulling away again, giving her space — but not much.

“Good luck with your studies, then,” he said, his voice carrying a tone she couldn’t quite decipher, before leaning back against the column and staying there, as if he had no plans of leaving anytime soon.

The silence took over them both again, but after a few minutes, he stepped closer still and, in a low tone, almost as if testing his words, asked:

“Was it him who made you cry that night at the ball?”

She was momentarily speechless, her face flushing slightly as she looked at him, nervous. She couldn’t meet Mattheo’s eyes, but the memory of that night still affected her deeply. Her fingers began to play with the edges of the parchment, looking for something to focus on.

“Yes…” she answered, her voice soft and hesitant. “It was him.”

Mattheo felt a wave of protectiveness surge within him. His eyes darkened for a moment, as if the thought of Cedric causing her pain bothered him deeply. He moved a little closer, his voice now laden with concern.

“He doesn’t deserve a single ounce of your attention,” he said, the softness of his words contrasting with the intensity of his gaze.

She looked up at him, feeling a mix of relief and gratitude. Even without saying anything further, she knew Mattheo was there for her, with no reservations, ready to protect whatever was necessary.

“I know,” she replied, a shy smile beginning to form on her lips, comforting yet tinged with vulnerability.

He watched her for a moment, a protective expression on his face, and then gave a slight smile, softer this time, as though he was finally understanding what truly mattered.

“Don’t worry,” he said, in a tone that seemed to promise something. “I’m here.”

ಇ

Mattheo stood in the dark corridor, hands in his pockets, trying to control the whirlwind of thoughts still spinning in his head. Enzo was beside him, observing his friend patiently. But the silence between them was growing uncomfortable. The tension radiating off Mattheo was almost palpable.

“Mate, you’re freaking out over this?” Enzo finally spoke, his voice low and bored, breaking the silence.

Mattheo looked at him, his eyes slightly irritated. “I’m not freaking out. I just… didn’t expect to feel this way, you know? I didn’t think I’d be so… bothered.” He took a step forward, stopping in front of one of the cold castle walls. “But he can’t just show up like nothing’s happened. And she… she seems so… calm.”

Enzo sighed, arms crossed. “You’re talking about Cedric, right?”

“Who else?” Mattheo muttered, almost growling, his eyes fixed on an invisible point on the wall. “He shouldn’t be so comfortable around her. And what’s worse is, she doesn’t seem to care. It’s like just another conversation, just another interaction. But what am I, Enzo? A spectator? damnit.”

Enzo moved closer to him, not showing much surprise at Mattheo’s behaviour, but still visibly paying attention. “And you think she’ll start thinking about you if you keep doing this? If you keep torturing yourself, waiting for things to sort themselves out?”

Mattheo turned to face him, frustration clear on his face. “I know what you’re trying to say, but I’m not an idiot, Enzo. I already know what she feels, I’ve already seen it, she’s not the type to make things clear that easily. And if I try to do something, I’ll just make things worse. I’m not… like him.”

Enzo gave a tired smile, shaking his head. “Mate, you’re hiding behind this idea of ‘I’m not like him’. I know what you’ve got in your head, but… maybe you need to stop thinking there’s a manual on how to act here. Just go up to her. Don’t overthink it. You’ve got a chance, but if you keep going like this, you’ll lose it, and in the end, what will be left?”

Mattheo remained silent for a while, his gaze fixed on the floor. He knew Enzo was right, but the idea of approaching her still felt so distant, like he had lost control over the situation.

“She should be in the greenhouse,” Mattheo commented, his voice tinged with slight hesitation but also resignation.

“Yeah,” Enzo replied, already knowing where this was headed. “Now go on, or do you want to keep complaining for another hour?”

Mattheo looked at him, a little irritated, but also unsure of how to react. He knew what Enzo was suggesting wasn’t just about having a simple chat. He was telling Mattheo to open up in a way he didn’t allow himself to. But deep down, he knew he couldn’t let things continue like this.

Mattheo let out a heavy sigh and started walking towards the greenhouse. Enzo watched him for a moment, his expression serious but still offering silent support.

The cold wind cut through the empty greenhouses as she stayed there, alone, organising her materials and rereading notes from the day’s class. The light from the setting sun filtered through the windows, casting an orange glow across the room. She was so focused that she didn’t even hear the footsteps approaching.

“You really don’t know when to stop, do you?” The familiar voice of Mattheo came from behind her, relaxed, with that trademark tone that made her roll her eyes — and, at the same time, smile.

She turned around, surprised, holding a quill in her hand. “You’re still here? I thought you’d have run off to the common room by now.”

“And leave you here alone, exhausted and lost in your thoughts?” He stepped closer with a teasing smile, stopping next to the counter where she worked. “Seems a bit irresponsible of me, don’t you think?”

She laughed lightly, shaking her head. “I’m fine. Just wanted to finish reviewing this before tomorrow.”

“Of course you did,” he replied, crossing his arms and casually leaning against the counter. “Always so diligent. But you know the plants aren’t going to run away if you leave them for tomorrow, right?”

She returned her focus to the notes, trying to ignore his closeness. “I’d rather be sure. Besides, if I head to the castle now, I’ll probably just get distracted.”

“So, you admit I’m a distraction.” He smiled, his gaze full of amusement.

She paused for a second, realising what she had said, and blushed slightly. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Of course not,” he tilted his head, his eyes watching her every reaction. “But it’s not like it’s a lie.”

She huffed, trying to stifle a smile as she returned to her materials on the counter. “If you’ve only come here to tease me, you might as well head back to the castle.”

“Maybe I came for another reason.” He took a step forward, now standing even closer, enough that she could feel his warmth, despite the cold around them.

She lifted her eyes to meet his, trying to maintain composure. “And what might that be?”

He hesitated for a moment, the smile fading slightly, but the sparkle in his eyes remained. “Sometimes, I think you’re the only person who hasn’t realised.”

“Realised what?” The question escaped her lips before she could stop herself.

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he leaned in a little more, his face close enough that she could smell the faint scent of tobacco mixed with something woody. His eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, the silence seemed louder than any words.

“This.” The word came out before he closed the gap between them, his lips meeting hers in a soft, but confident kiss.

She froze for a second, surprised, before relaxing slightly. The kiss was gentle, as if he was waiting for her to pull away. But she didn’t pull away.

When he broke the kiss, the smile returned to his face, now softer and almost challenging. “Maybe that clears things up.”

She was still processing what had just happened, her heart racing, words escaping her. “You kissed me.”

“And you liked it.” He took a step back, but his gaze remained fixed on hers, as if waiting for some sort of confirmation.

She sighed, a small, involuntary smile appearing on her lips. “I liked it.”

He laughed, shaking his head, and extended a hand to help her gather the scattered materials. “Come on, or Professor Sprout’s going to turn us into fertiliser for being late.”

Without realising it, she let him accompany her back to the castle, and this time, the silence between them felt comfortable — and full of new feelings.

#riddleriddles #harry potter #slytherin x hufflepuff #slytherpuff #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo x you #mattheo imagine #mattheo fluff

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altruistichellhound · 2 days ago

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Beastars Boyfriend Head cannons!

I’ll be doing a separate post for the shishigumi. Let me know if you want anyone added to this.

I made this as non specific and gender neutral as I could. I wanted everyone to read this and imagine themselves as whatever person/animal you see yourself as.

Legoshi

Legoshi cannot control his tail around you. Smile at him? furious wagging. Laugh in the sweetest of ways? furious wagging. Kiss him? He’s taken off like a helicopter with how fast his tail is going.

Absolutely loves being close to you! Cannot get enough of your scent, breathes it in more than the air around him.

Territorial of you, anyone looks at you and he’s pissed. Not that you can tell, or anyone else really. Isn’t outright jealous/confrontational unless you are out right disrespected. Absolutely not afraid of getting in fights for you.

When Legoshi is comfortable he will go on and on about his interests. He is so incredibly smart, especially when it comes to bugs. At this point you’re pretty much an entomologists.

Teaches you about the way of the sea and some of the seas language. (You’ll probably be pronouncing it wrong the same as him..)

At the beginning of your relationship he found it hard to communicate his feelings, not he fully able to express his wants and needs. It works very well for the both of you as he is an incredible listener.

Very oblivious…

Loves taking you on dates, especially private ones like picnics and star gazing.

You>Anything else

Louie

If you don’t come from a deer family of high value you’ll be his secret.

He might not show it with words but lord does this man love you.

Endless, and I really mean endless gifts. You offhandedly mention something you like? Oh what’s this, he bought it for you! He’s out and he sees something that reminds him of you, bought it. “Oh that’s cute!” Boom he bought it.

Secretly likes it when you give him massages. Poor man is so stressed out he needs that extra care. He wants a quiet life with you. One where he can be the beastar but come home to your little cozy home where it’s soft and quiet.

Knows you guys simply cannot exist together but pretends like it’s not reality…

Openly jealous, “I don’t like him”. Tells you when he thinks someone has bad intentions. Tries his best to protect you but sometimes it’s slightly misguided.

Acts like he needs to be the dominant one in the relationship but really likes it when you take control.

A balance of all out luxury dinners and simple little cafes you two like to frequent.

If it comes to it he would give up everything, including his relationship with his father; for you.

Gohin

Works out in front of you totally not on purpose. Flexes his muscles when you just happen to be looking at him.

Gohin is such a tease! Doesn’t matter what it is he’ll make fun of you for it. If you don’t like it he’ll tell you it was just a joke but he takes it very seriously and makes sure not to tease you like that again.

Tries his best to keep you away from his work. If you want to help he will tell you no until you persist so much he caves. While he loves you he cares about your safety more, so much training. He will run you until you colapse; he would never forgive himself if something happened to you.

Tea after training/work. He enjoys making you two a drink then sitting and talking about your day between sips.

Even if it doesn’t feel like it I promise you he listens. If he is busy or stressed he will respond with simple, hmm and mhms. However, he heard everyone word and won’t forget what you’ve told him.

At first he’s an awkward kisser, but he’s a quick learner and you’ve never had a better kisser in your life.

You remain the light of his life.

Bill

Childish. Not necessarily a bad thing but sometimes you want to beat him with a stick.

PDA to the max, you’re his and he’s yours. Why shouldn’t the people know? Hold his hand and steal quick kisses please.

Not the best at planning things but he’ll try his best. His goal is to make you happy and have something that will last.

Doesn’t really think about a serious future that much. Not that he doesn’t want to be with you, just that he hasn’t planned ahead enough to really put thought into marriage and a possible family.

This man makes you late to almost everything. Unless it’s the club, he is not on time.

You basically aren’t ever not laughing. He loves to see you smile and squirm around while you laugh so hard your stomach starts to hurt. Surprisingly his jokes are actually funny and land quite well.

All his friends know you very well, all he does is brag about how amazing and hot you are.

Jack

The sweetest man to have ever existed.

Had a crush on you for thee longest time before he either got the courage to talk to you or you finally went up to him.

Wants you to be happy, in his mind he can never do enough for you. He doesn’t want you to be happy, he needs it. If you are sad or angry he tries his darnedest to make cheer you up in a way that suits you the best. Listening, taking you out, leaving you alone, really whatever you need he will give.

Snores. Not loud though, sweet little snores and huffs throughout the night. At this point you can’t sleep without hearing him.

Always smells weirdly good. Like it’s unnatural how he always smells the same and it’s never bad. He could sprint three miles and still smell insanely good. When asked about it he just shrugs.

Constantly blushing! He can’t help it around you, doesn’t matter how long you’ve been together.

Collot

You trim his bangs. He lets you but in all honestly doesn’t trust you after you cut them way too short last time. He won’t tell you that though.

Suspiciously calm, makes him a good listener but sometimes it’s frustrating when he doesn’t get mad with you.

Speaking of anger he hasn’t really gotten mad with you. Maybe a few spats here and there but he has never once raised his voice at you.

Worst sleeper in the world! Moved, kicks, loud sleeper, talks. How did he kick you in the face? You don’t know and neither does he. Scares the crap out of you, “He’s coming.” You proceed to violently shake him until he wakes up and reassures you back to sleep.

Really likes playing video games with you or just doing things quietly next to each other.

Riz

Tries his very best to control himself around you after what happened. Really doesn’t matter to him what species you are he’s constantly afraid of hurting you. Cannot let go of you even if he’s afraid.

You on the other hand aren’t afraid of him. He told you what happened and you understood him. He would never hurt you, or so you think.

Protective as hell. Does not matter who it is no one will ever get to you.

Practically worships you. Would kiss the ground you walk on if he could. Lives to serve you, you want something it’s already been done.

Constant cuddles, he always wants to be the big spoon unless he’s sad. Being around you makes him feel powerful knowing in that moment you are untouchable. When you hold him he feels vulnerable, he hasn’t decided if he’s okay with that feeling yet but he knows that it feels good to be the one being protected for once.

Really likes cooking with you and for you.

Pina

Best way to describe him is annoying, but in the best way possible.

Can, and will, talk your ears off. Constantly yapping about something and expects you to listen. He’s offended if you ask him to give you even a second of silence.

Really loves it when you touch his horns.

Best lashes in the room, better than you and he will constantly brag about this. He tells you he’s joking (he’s not).

He’s just a little bit of a freak, “Eat me.” Doesn’t matter if you’re a carnivore or not. “What the hell Pina?” You can’t tell if he’s being serious…

He knows absolutely everything about you. Some things you didn’t even know about yourself! Not only does he know you but he knows everyone else. Tells you all the best gossip and keeps you up to date with rumors even if you don’t care.

Definitely needs someone to keep up with him.

Melon

Crazy but that’s okay!

Would kill someone if you asked him to. Neighbor pissed you off? Gone. Boss is being a dick? Gone. You tend to abuse this fact.

Okay he does not know how to express his love for you. He’s not even sure if what he’s feeling his love. He knows he oddly doesn’t want to hurt you but is that love? Who knows he’s just going with it.

This relationship is pretty much the definition of playing with fire.

You get to see such a different side to him, quiet and maybe even a little soft. Sad maybe? Is it an act? You don’t know but you’ve decided it’s okay not knowing you. Even when you have that nagging feeling that you should care.

Potentially likes you so much because you are very similar to him.

Won’t ever tell you or anyone this but he likes it when you hold him. He also enjoys that you aren’t afraid of his fangs. Will bite you if you let him.

Would both love and hate you even more if you were a hybrid.

Gosha

Biggest softy with you. Would do absolutely anything for you, to him, you are nothing less than the universe.

Thinks you are the most wonderful thing to have ever graced this world. He loves to show you it too. Random gifts, always brings you fresh flowers before your last ones die.

Evening walks are the best with him. As the sun turns the clouds orange and pink he’ll tell you about his adventures as a youth and his previous dreams of becoming the beastar.

The best support you’ll ever have. He whole heartedly believes that you can do anything you set your heart to. Encouraging your passions and making sure whatever you need to meet your goals is there for you to use.

You’ve never felt so safe than right by his side, and rightfully so. No one would even think to mess with you with him around.

Everyone knows you too are together, he’s made sure of that the way he runs around bragging about you.

Yahya

Tries his best to keep you and work separate. This is not only for your safety for also for him. He never expected or wanted a relationship because of his goals but when he saw you he just couldn’t let you go.

Manages balancing you and protecting the world pretty well. Though, he is in fact just a man like everyone else.

Missed dinners often which turns into arguments which ends in mutual apologies and making up.

He is so tired. Needs you to rub his shoulders and lightly scratch his back.

Can’t really sleep but if you tell him stories or hum softly while playing with his mane he knocks right out.

Keeps you out of the public eye because he knows that if he didn’t you’d have a target on your back. Constant security watching you from afar.

Makes sure to provide a good life for you first and foremost, but also is very focused on changing the world. It is a relationship based on understanding on both ends. Compromises have been made.

You are the closest thing to his heart and constantly on his mind.

#legoshi x reader #beastars fanfic #beastars x reader #beastars louis #louis x reader #riz x reader #pina x reader #Beastars Jack x reader #beastars yahya #yahya x reader #beastars gosha #gosha x reader #beastars bill #beastars collot #beastars gohin #gohin x reader #beastars head cannon #melon x reader

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