#he tried to be like not that i care but what are you into?

[sttoru]

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. dad!toji x wife!reader. fluff, just pure fluff. reader gets called ‘doll’ once.

toji sits on the edge of megumi’s bed, arms casually draped over his knees, watching with an amused grin as you fuss over your son. you’re lecturing him about being more careful when playing with the other kids at daycare, replacing the bandages on his arms that had gotten scuffed from a tumble.

megumi sulks, his little face scrunched up, but he doesn’t dare to say a word. his gaze is cast downward and he knows better than to challenge you when you’re in your ‘mom’ mode.

toji chuckles to himself. the little brat—just like his old man, he thinks. neither of them ever have the guts to talk back when you’re laying down the law.

with a lazy smirk, toji reaches over and ruffles megumi’s hair in an affectionate and teasing way. “it's fine, doll,” he says in attempt to reassure you, “shit happens. ‘n it toughens up the kid.”

you shoot him a look over your shoulder and toji just shrugs. “he’s just like you, ya know,” you mutter as you brush a stray lock of hair from megumi's face. indeed, the little boy resembles his father in looks but also in personality. “stubborn, hard-headed. thinks he can take on the world without a scratch,” you sigh.

on one hand, you’re worried that megumi will get in real trouble one day because of it. but on the other hand, your son got an overprotective man as father. you know he will never let any harm befall either of you.

toji raises an eyebrow at your comment. oh, he knows and he’s proud of it. proud of his son, of the family he's created with you. “i mean—he needs to learn to take a few hits if he's gonna survive this world.”

you scoff before hugging megumi one last time. “mm, mama,” the toddler snuggles up to you, small hands clutching your shirt tightly. you feel the weight of his tiny form press against you while his cheek rests against your chest.

there’s something about the clingy way he holds you that melts something deep inside you. you press a gentle kiss to his messy hair, brushing a hand down his back as you breathe in the sweet, comforting scent of his shampoo.

“good night, sweets,” you murur, your voice barely above a whisper. “i love you.”

megumi’s small fingers tighten once more on your shirt as if reluctant to let go. his breathing is steady and you know he’s almost asleep. but then, your son shifts lightly. he pulls back from the hug enough to look up at toji, who’s leaning back against the headboard of the bed. he doesn't say a word, but there’s a clear look of expectation on his face, as though he's waiting for something only his dad can give.

toji meets his gaze with a blank expression that doesn’t give away a thing. he's clueless for a good couple seconds before picking up on what megumi wants.

your husband murmurs something incoherent before relenting. “yeah yeah, c'mere buddy,” he hums, his tone softening. he can't help it—even if he tries not to show the vulnerability in his demeanour.

“yay,” megumi's face brightens up a little and he eagerly reaches up with those tiny hands. toji pulls the kid into his arms, hugging him tighter than expected. the action is a little awkward, but there's no denying the warmth in it.

your heart melts as you witness the adorable scene before you. your son doesn’t seem to mind the tightness as his small arms encircle his father’s neck. it’s a simple moment between father and son, but it’s enough. enough for both of them.

toji pulls back after a little while. his eyes are softer than usual as he pinches megumi's button nose. “good night, kiddo,” he mutters, the words rough but warm, “don't let the bedbugs bite.”

megumi grins sleepily at him as he rubs his eyes. “i’ll kick their ass, papa,” he declares proudly, looking and acting more like his dad with the second. you roll your eyes and stand up from the bed. toji simply snorts, realising his son has picked up on the phrases he uses.

“tha’s right,” your husband nods after standing next to you, “you tell ‘em bedbugs to eat shi—”

“toji ,” you shush him with a swat to the bicep.

megumi lets out a small giggle in reply before laying back on his pillows. you pull the covers up to his chin and watch as his eyes slowly close, his body beginning to relax. the quiet rhythm of his breathing is the only sign of him settling down for the night.

toji lingers by the door and is simply content to watch you. you're always like this—so nurturing. he follows your every move as you leave a final kiss to your son’s cheek. the warmth that radiates in your presence, your affection, the simple yet tender moments are all things that make him fall in love with you over and over again.

you straighten up and turn towards toji, catching him staring. you can see the warmth in his eyes, the way his shoulders are completely relaxed, how that signature smirk of his seems more like a smile in that moment.

you chuckle to yourself before stepping out into the hallway, leaving the door slightly ajar. toji follows with his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. the silence hangs between you two for a bit. it’s comforting and. . . secure.

“y’know, you’re a real softie, toji,” you comment to break the quiet atmosphere. you tilt your head back to look at the dark-haired man who’s now next to you. you know he still struggles with being vulnerable around your son. the sentimentality is still an aspect he's working on.

however, you see it; the emotional side of him. the warmth in his eyes, in his touch, in his words - even if he’s not all that soft spoken.

you can see right through him.

“don't worry though. your secret's safe with me,” you tease with a soft grin.

toji doesn’t say a word for a few seconds before he chuckles under his breath, “just keep that between us, aye?” he responds to your teasing. he’s just glad that he’s married a woman who understands him and accepts him as is.

you both head to the living room. the weight of your day finally seems to lift. the quiet house and the soft breaths of megumi drifting from his room, feels like the calm after a storm. there are challenges ahead, no doubt, but for now everything is alright.

toji wraps his muscular arm around your shoulders as you both sink into the couch. the television playing something in the background, but neither of you pay it much attention. you lean against him and sigh, eyes closing slowly.

“you think he's gonna… turn out okay?” you ask softly. you’re not really sure how to word your worries. your voice holds an uncertainity that causes toji to hold you tighter.

your husband doesn't answer right away. instead, he glances down at you and strokes your hair with his free hand. he nods and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead.

toji leans his head back afterwards, closing his own eyes. no matter what the future holds, he's sure megumi will grow up to be a strong young man.

“yeah. that kid’s gonna be alright.”

[carrots-bear]

Using this its so helpful

i think its so funny when people take the way donnie acts at face value even though its a horrible lie because he's a horrible liar, while understanding leo is bullshitting very well despite him actually being GOOD at bullshitting. many such cases

[zombii-writess]

ɪ ᴘᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀʟᴀɴᴅ

summary: ever since you've woken up in Twisted Wonderland, you've been in awe. i mean how could you not? magic was everywhere!

your friends just shrug it off, thinking that there was nothing special about this world, but you, oh you can't help but giggle like a child whenever something explodes, whether on purpose or accidently, in potions class. of course, someone has noticed the joy at the smallest things in your eyes, and he can't help but admire that.

characters: Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, and Malleus,

type: fluffy / gn reader / romantic / bullet points + lowercase intended / reader is yuu

a/n: had this in my head for a while but whenever im given the chance to write i forget everything, some characters might be ooc and like most of the stuff i just searched up lol

unedited

✁-----

[ⅰ] riddle rosehearts

riddle likes your enthusiasm about wanting to learn things. so when you came up to him with a bunch of questions regarding his world, you bet he pulled out a stack of books and plopped them on a nearby table.

"i hope your free for the next hour, [name], because we aren't leaving until your curiosity is satisfied."

he thinks you're going to whine and make an excuse to leave, but he's left silent when you nod and plop down on the chair, back straight and ready to learn at whatever knowledge was going to be thrown your way.

it ended being longer than an hour. you couldn't help yourself asking questions about certain things like wars, how magic came to be, how it was possible to for dorms to have their own dimensional pocket for its location, and blah blah blah.

and riddle couldn't help himself to answering your questions, which led to more questions and again blah blah blah.

finally, you guys get a break for snacks and refreshments, riddle decides to ask you about your world. is there truly no magic in your world? ...magicians? they give the allusion of magic without being able to use it? interesting.

and break ends without both you realize it, but this time, riddle's the student and you're the teacher.

[ⅱ] leona kingscholar

usually, leona doesn't care if you're around him whenever he's sleeping, he likes napping on you. as long as it's quiet and there's no ruggie bugging him about any assignments, he's a happy lion.

but he can't help flicking his tail in irritation at your constant staring at his tail and furry ears when he's trying to sleep. he knows you probably want to touch them.

yeah, leona knows he's good looking, but could've you done your sight-seeing when he's more awake and ready to tease you?

"hey, herbivore, is there something on my face?" leona opens an eye and stares at yours with his green one. he notices you eying his ears and with a loud sigh, he repositions himself to rest his chin on your belly. "only for 3 minutes"

giggling, you immediately reach over and stroked at his fuzzy ears. then comes the questions. "do you use different shampoo for your tail?" "how do you wear headphones?" "your tail is very pretty!"

while you chatted away and messed with his ears and hair, leona fell deeper and deeper into slumber. he'll answer your questions when he wakes up.

[ⅲ] azul ashengrotto

why did he agree to this? why couldn't he just tell jade and floyd to take and show you the beauty of the deep sea? but knowing them, they might pull something and that something was this!

stuck in a sunken ship, with you, in his octopus form! but he can't help but flush at your gentle petting towards one of his many arms, the appendage wrapping itself around your fingers. he curses at the twins under his breath.

azul tries to focus your attention on other things he has found in the ruined ship, "look at this jewel, isn't it shiny?" "no? well, uh, then what about these shells? don't they look prettier to look at?" but the more he brough items using his limbs, the more amazed you are.

"wow, your arms are useful, not to mention very beautiful." azul pauses, soaking up your words, heart fluttering. "this shade flatters you so much, i bet you look good in any color"

azul and you didn't realize how close you had gotten to each other, chests touching and eyes locked like nothing else mattered. "azul, you're very beautiful."

his heart clenches at your words, swallowing a bit and murmuring a small 'thank you.' azul's limbs tightening their grip around you. "thank you, [name]..."

[ⅳ] kalim al asim

he's a yapper like you, poor jamil is seconds away from slamming his head into a wall from your ramblings.

you're amazed at some crystal lamps he has? guess what's sitting on your desk in your dorm. what do you mean there's no such thing as enchanted jewelry in your world? don't worry [name] he'll cover you head to toe in enchanted jewelry.

but then kalim has an idea. what if he took you on a magic carpet ride? you liked it last time surely, you would want to do it again. you beam at the idea and before jamil could get a say in, kalim scoops your hand in his and drags you to the treasury where he keeps his magic carpet.

squealing in delight, the air smacked your face to which you buried yourself in kalim's clothing as you clung to him. kalim laughs with you as he guides his carpet up into the clouds. '[name] check out this view!'

you gasp at the sight; the moon was full and bright in the dark sky, stars twinkled in the dark dome, the air was crisp and cold. kalim feels his face warm up at the sight.

he'll take you anywhere you want as long as you stay by his side

[ⅴ] vil schoenheit

you remind him of rook in a way, always admiring the simplest things and always impressed by the tiniest things. he's seen the way you look at him with stars in your eyes whenever he makes sparkles fly in alchemy and potions class.

vil knows your curious and he absolutely thrives at your constant attention on whatever he's doing. be it doing his make-up, skin care routine, or doing schoolwork. as long as it's you, he doesn't mind your attention behind cameras.

currently, he's doing your daily skin care date night while you yapped away about potions and his skin care.

"you make your own skin care products right? that's amazing, i couldn't trust making my own and expect my face to come out as clear as yours." you laugh

vil huffs as his pinky scoops up some lip balm, then holds your chin gently with his pointer finger and thumb and applies the product to your lips. which he totally didn't need to do all of that when there was a small stick.

"that's why i'm here, [name], i could show you some tricks i've learned through trial and error."

[ⅵ] idia shroud

after over blotting and apologizing to everyone, idia expects his life to remain the same, occasionally having interactions with his peers, you have shown up to his dorm, thanks to ortho, and expressed your curiosity in his hair.

idia stutters out an incoherent explanation, tips of his hair burning a pink from the concentrated look in your eyes, and once he finishes, idia goes to close his door but jumps at your hand gripping onto the door. you weren't satisfied.

eventually you invite yourself inside and after countless questions about him, you mention technology from your world and that catches his attention.

he listens to your explanation, occasionally snickering at the outdated technology your world had. when you ask about the technology from this world, idia comes out a bit more from his shell and goes on a 3-hour rant about technology from Twisted Wonderland, with you occasionally asking questions.

idia hopes you don't notice the tips of his hair turning pink, but of course, you ask him, admiring the color.

[ⅶ] malleus draconia

he admires that about you. for someone who'll live for a short time, you always cherish what little time you have. malleus has lived for a long time; he's seen things come and go, and over the years, he seems to have lost the passion to seek and explore what life offered.

but being with you with your daily late-night walks, with your rambling of how you found potions being able to heal injuries and sicknesses absolutely mindboggling.

malleus listens attentively to your speech on mythical creatures back in your world, how dragons were your personal favorite, and how in your world, in fae mythology, it's rare for a fae to choose to become mortal. that certainly catches malleus' attention. (i literally just googled this so idk if this is accurate)

he's certainly never heard of this statement, but it does intrigue him. now your speech leads to questioning him or questioning about his title as one of the top five powerful mages. how do you get that title? are you born with it or do you have to prove yourself to professionals? can anyone receive this title?

malleus just smiles and answers your onslaught of questions, heart fluttering at your attentive gaze

Tip jar (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

[sonarspace]

˗ˏˋ I’MA CARE FOR YOU, YOU, YOU (T. FUSHIGURO)

꒰ synopsis. what starts as a quiet attempt to keep toji sober on new year’s eve turns into something far more intimate—because for the first time in years, he’s found something worth staying sober for.

warnings. mentions of child abuse (toji’s lip scar), mentions of alcohol abuse. fem!reader. established relationship. nsfw. unprotected sēx, orāl (f! receiving), size kink + more (can’t remember lol).

toji never celebrated his birthday.

december 31st passed like a ghost every year—empty bottles scattered across the floor by the time the sun set, and his phone powered down before midnight could roll around.

but it wasn’t new year’s eve he hated.

it was his birthday. and it was the day he got the scar.

toji was six when the zen’in clan dragged him to the edge of the disciplinary pit. he remembered the cold first—how it bit through the thin fabric of his yukata, numbing his fingers as he tried not to shiver. the reason didn’t matter. maybe he mouthed off. maybe he looked at an elder wrong. maybe they just felt like reminding him of his place.

“a lesson,” they had called it.

when they pushed him in, he landed hard, his lip splitting against the jagged rocks below. the curses that lurked in the pit slithered closer, circling him in the dark. none of them touched him. not even when he lay still, too scared to move, his blood pooling beneath him.

by the time they pulled him out the next morning, the scar had already begun to form.

every year after that, december 31st wasn’t about celebrating life. 

it was about surviving it.

and so he drank. drank until the memory blurred at the edges, until the whiskey burned worse than the scar ever had.

but this year…

this year was different.

because of you.

december 30th

“you’re not drinking that whole bottle tonight.”

your voice was soft but firm, cutting through the low hum of the apartment.

toji didn’t look at you. his gaze stayed fixed on the skyline outside the window, the glass in his hand half-full and swirling with amber light.

“and why not?” he muttered.

“because if you do, you’ll sleep through tomorrow.”

“good.”

you stepped closer, bare feet padding quietly across the floor.

“toji.”

the faint flicker of annoyance in his eyes vanished when you sank onto the couch beside him, your thigh pressing lightly against his. without hesitation, you reached forward and pried the glass from his fingers, setting it on the table.

toji finally glanced at you—sharp, unreadable, but lingering longer than usual.

“you’re bossy,” he murmured, but there was no heat behind it.

“someone has to be.”

silence stretched between you, the distant hum of the city filling the gaps.

then, quietly, you asked, “what is it about tomorrow?”

his thumb traced absent patterns over the scar on his lip, a habit you’d seen before.

“the pit,” he said simply.

the words were rough, rasping against the air like they’d taken effort to drag from his chest.

your heart clenched.

“they threw you in?”

toji’s gaze flickered to the bottle, but he didn’t reach for it. instead, his hand drifted to your thigh, his palm warm even through the fabric of your leggings.

“on my birthday,” he murmured.

you swallowed the lump in your throat, lacing your fingers through his.

“they can’t touch you now,” you whispered.

he huffed, but it wasn’t quite a laugh.

“i don’t need comforting, sweetheart.”

“maybe not,” you replied softly, squeezing his hand, “but you deserve it anyway.”

toji didn’t answer, but the arm around your shoulders tightened slightly, pulling you closer until your head rested against his chest.

the whiskey sat untouched on the table the rest of the night. 

december 31st

toji didn’t expect to wake up to the smell of food.

most mornings, the first thing that greeted him was the stale reminder of unfinished whiskey and the sharp bite of morning light through half-drawn curtains. but today, something softer lingered in the air—cinnamon, maybe, and fresh coffee.

he cracked one eye open, arm thrown lazily over his face as the faint clatter of dishes drifted from the kitchen.

what the hell...

his gaze shifted to the clock beside the bed—9:00 am.

too early.

usually, he’d sleep through the morning. hell, he’d sleep through most of the day if left alone—anything to let december 31st pass by in a blur. but now, curiosity tugged at the edges of his mind.

dragging himself upright, he tugged on the nearest pair of sweats, padding barefoot toward the source of the noise.

there you were.

standing at the stove, swaying faintly to the low hum of music drifting from the speaker, one of his shirts hanging loose over your frame.

toji lingered by the doorway for a second, arms crossing over his bare chest, just watching.

you must’ve felt him staring because you glanced over your shoulder, offering that soft smile that always disarmed him.

“happy birthday.”

toji’s brows lifted, but the warmth pooling low in his stomach was unexpected.

“you’re up early,” he grunted, stepping forward to lean on the counter, arms brushing yours.

“had to make sure you didn’t drink the day away again.”

he huffed, shaking his head. “so you’re babysitting me now?”

“if that’s what it takes,” you teased, plating the pancakes with a little too much pride. “besides, if you hate your birthday so much, i figured we’d just make it a regular day. you know—coffee, pancakes, and some lazy movie marathon or something.”

toji didn’t answer right away. his gaze lingered on you, tracing the soft line of your features as the soft winter light kissed your skin.

normal.

the weight of that word sat heavy in his chest. when was the last time his birthday felt anything close to that?

you slid a plate in front of him, nudging his hand lightly. “eat. you can glare at me later.”

toji snorted but didn’t argue.

-

the sun had long since dipped below the skyline, and the apartment was wrapped in the kind of quiet that only came with late december nights. the tv flickered softly in the corner, casting faint shadows across the room, but the film had faded into background noise hours ago.

the glow from the tv barely lit the room, but it didn’t matter. your focus wasn’t on the screen.

toji’s arm lay heavy across your waist, his thumb brushing idle circles along the curve of your hip as the two of you stretched across the couch.

you nestled closer, your head resting against his chest, listening to the slow, steady beat of his heart.

outside, fireworks crackled faintly in the distance, but the soft weight of his palm sliding up beneath the hem of your shirt was far more distracting.

“countdown’s soon,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

toji’s response was a low hum, his lips pressing lazily against the top of your head.

“hm? you excited?” he teased, palm flattening against the small of your back, his fingers trailing higher.

you smiled, shifting slightly to straddle his lap. the flicker of surprise in his eyes was brief, replaced by that familiar heat as his hands found your waist.

“maybe,” you replied, your lips brushing faintly over his. “you better make a wish.”

toji’s grip tightened, his thumb tracing the soft line of your spine.

“already got what i want,” he said, voice low, thick with something dark and rough-edged.

your lips parted in soft surprise, but before you could speak, his mouth captured yours—slow, deliberate, and impossibly warm.

his kisses trailed lower, each one leaving a path of heat against your skin.

the tv droned quietly in the background, forgotten as toji pulled the oversized shirt—his shirt—over your head, leaving you bare beneath him.

he leaned back just enough to let his gaze rake over you, dark eyes glinting faintly beneath strands of disheveled hair.

“been thinking about this all day,” he admitted, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing lazily over the sensitive peaks.

you arched into his touch, your breath hitching as his mouth followed, closing over one nipple with slow, teasing intent.

his tongue flicked, warm and soft, and when his teeth grazed lightly over the sensitive skin, your fingers instinctively curled into his hair.

“toji—”

“hm?”

he didn’t stop, his palm sliding between your thighs, pressing against the damp heat gathered there.

“fuck,” he rasped, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. his fingers traced slow, deliberate circles over your underwear, feeling how soaked you were.

“you’re already this wet?”

you swallowed hard, tugging at the hem of his sweats, urging him closer.

“just for you,” you whispered, your breath catching as his fingers slipped beneath the fabric, teasing along your folds.

his eyes darkened, and in one slow, fluid motion, he shifted, dragging your underwear down your legs, leaving you completely exposed beneath him.

“better fix that, huh?” he muttered, spreading your thighs wider.

his mouth was hot against you—too hot.

his tongue moved in slow, deliberate strokes, pressing flat against your clit before flicking up in a way that left you breathless.

toji held you down easily, his grip firm around your thighs as he worked you over like he had all the time in the world.

you gasped, back arching when his fingers pressed inside you, curling just right as his tongue flicked again.

“s’good,” you breathed, tugging at his hair.

he groaned low against you, the vibration sending a sharp jolt through your core.

“fuck, you taste sweet,” he muttered, his voice muffled but thick with need.

his tongue dipped deeper, teasing your entrance before sliding back up to your clit, lapping at you with slow, lazy strokes.

your thighs trembled around his head, but he didn’t stop—not until you were whimpering his name, hips grinding desperately against his mouth.

when you came, it was with a sharp cry, your body tensing beneath him as the pleasure washed over you in waves.

toji didn’t pull away, dragging his tongue through every aftershock, his grip tightening around your hips to hold you still as you squirmed.

“good girl,” he rasped, pressing one last kiss against the inside of your thigh.

by the time he crawled back up over you, his sweats were gone, leaving the full weight of him pressing hot against your slick heat.

his cock, heavy and flushed, dragged through your soaked folds, the tip nudging at your entrance with every teasing roll of his hips.

“toji,” you whispered, the sound barely more than a breath, but the need behind it was unmistakable.

he caught your chin between his fingers, tilting your face to his until your eyes met.

“gonna take my time with you,” he rasped, lips barely skimming over yours. “make sure you feel it all the way into the new year.”

you barely had time to respond before he pushed forward, sinking into you in one long, unrelenting thrust.

the stretch stole your breath, toes curling as he sank in, inch by inch, until there wasn’t a part of you he hadn’t claimed. your nails dug into the hard muscle of his back, legs wrapping tighter around his waist as the slow drag of him against your walls left your head spinning.

"you feel that?" he rasped, his mouth trailing along the line of your jaw, teeth grazing just below your ear. "so fuckin’ tight—like you were made for me."

your only answer was a choked gasp as his hips rocked again, each roll deeper than the last, his cock pressing into that spot inside you that made your vision blur at the edges.

he moved with purpose—deep, measured strokes that left you trembling, each thrust pushing you closer to unraveling.

but soon, it wasn’t enough.

toji growled softly, his grip tightening on your hips as he drove into you harder, the sound of skin meeting skin drowned out by the faint crackle of fireworks outside.

his mouth found your neck, tongue flicking over your pulse before his teeth dragged faintly along the sensitive skin, leaving marks that you knew would linger long after the night faded.

when the clock struck midnight, toji was still buried deep inside you, his body heavy and solid as he pressed you into the mattress.

fireworks exploded outside, muffled cracks echoing through the thin apartment walls, but you barely noticed. not with the way he was moving—deep, slow thrusts that had your legs trembling and your nails digging into the broad expanse of his back.

his cock stretched you perfectly, thick and hot as he filled you to the hilt, the curve of him pressing up against that sensitive spot deep inside with every roll of his hips.

"shit," toji rasped, his breath hot against your ear. "so fuckin’ tight, baby. you feel that?"

you nodded, breathless, but it wasn’t enough for him. one of his hands—rough and calloused—gripped your chin, tilting your face up until your eyes met his.

“tell me,” he growled, his voice low, dangerous. his green eyes were darker now, half-lidded with pleasure, but there was something else burning beneath—something that made your heart race even faster.

“i feel it,” you gasped, barely able to form words with how deep he was. “you’re so—so big, toji.”

his mouth curved into a smirk, his thumb brushing over your swollen bottom lip.

“yeah? stretched you open real good, huh?”

your walls fluttered around him at the rasp in his voice, and his smirk only deepened.

“goddamn,” he muttered, leaning down to kiss you again, swallowing the soft whimper that slipped past your lips. his weight pressed you deeper into the mattress, the hard muscle of his chest flush against your tits, but there was a softness to him too—the faint give of his stomach against yours, the comforting warmth of his body that made you feel safe even as he fucked you senseless.

you wrapped your legs around his waist, heels digging into the plush curve of his ass, and toji groaned low in his throat, his pace quickening just enough to make you gasp.

the head of his cock dragged against that sweet spot over and over, pulling breathless little cries from you with each thrust.

“so fuckin’ needy for me,” he murmured, lips ghosting along your jaw. his breath hitched when you clenched around him, the muscles in his thick arms flexing as he held himself above you. “greedy little thing. takin’ all of me so well.”

your head tipped back, eyes fluttering shut as he ground his hips deeper, filling you in a way that made your body arch into him. the stretch was intoxicating, just toeing the line between too much and not enough, but the way he touched you—like you were something precious—made it impossible to stop craving more.

toji pressed his forehead against yours, panting softly as the fireworks outside flared brighter, casting flashes of color across his sweat-damp skin.

“you’re fuckin’ perfect,” he rasped, one of his hands sliding down to grip your thigh, pulling it higher until it rested against his side. the shift let him sink even deeper, and you moaned, head spinning from the sensation.

“so deep,” you whimpered, nails dragging over the broad planes of his back.

“mhm. feel me right there?” his hand pressed flat against your lower stomach, the pressure making you keen beneath him.

“y-yeah,” you stammered, writhing at the added intensity.

the wet, sinful sound of him thrusting into you filled the room, louder than the fireworks now, each snap of his hips pushing you closer to the edge.

and then he shifted again—leaning back, pulling his cock out almost entirely before slamming back into you, the force knocking the air from your lungs.

his lips trailed down the line of your neck, warm and soft as he moved lower, his breath hot against your flushed skin.

“fuck, these tits,” he growled, eyes dark as his large hands cupped them, kneading roughly. your back arched into him, desperate for more, and toji chuckled lowly, pinching your nipples between his fingers until you gasped.

“so soft.”

he wrapped his lips around one nipple, sucking deep and slow, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud in steady strokes that had your head spinning.

“toji—”

he didn’t answer, just groaned against your skin, his teeth grazing faintly over your nipple before he sucked even harder, leaving it swollen and sensitive as his hand squeezed the other roughly.

“could spend hours just like this,” he muttered against you, the vibrations of his voice sending sparks of pleasure straight between your legs.

you squirmed beneath him, hips grinding up against his cock, and toji pulled back just enough to smirk down at you.

“patience, baby,” he teased, giving your tits one last hard squeeze before guiding himself back to your entrance.

the tip of his cock slid against your soaked folds, teasing, before he sank back in, slow and steady, until he bottomed out with a deep groan.

for a long moment, the only sounds were the ragged breaths you shared as you both let go and the distant crackle of fireworks still popping outside.

toji leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips—a stark contrast to the bruising way he’d just taken you.

“happy new year,” you whispered, brushing your lips over the scar near his lip.

he huffed softly, pulling you closer until there wasn’t a sliver of space between you.

“yeah,” he muttered, his voice softer now, almost fond. “it is.”

an. happy birthday toji 😓, you are so loved. HAPPY NEW YEAR’S EVE 🥳! new fic (unrelated to this) will be uploaded tomorrow! so turn on post notifications :)

[strwberri-milk]

hii can i ask u to write hc about boys when they say something in conversation that will hurt mc, for example when they will mention her appearance like rafayel in ebb when he said 'its round like u'. hope u have great dayy<33

Zayne, being a doctor, has lots of opinions about some of your unhealthier habits. He doesn't share them all the time because he never wants to come off as nagging but you don't need him to say anything to know that he's staring at you judgmentally. He averts your gaze when you turn to him but it's already too late.

You feel yourself becoming demoralised, whatever you were doing totally abandoned as you decide to leave. Zayne knows exactly what happened, cursing himself for not keeping himself in check around you. He just can't help but worry, wanting to see you take care of yourself. The second you try to leave he grabs your wrist, apologising as he tells you it's just because he loves you.

He promises to use his words next time. You sniffle a little, deciding to act a little immature as you tell him that the issue is that he makes it very clear what he thinks. You'd rather him just tell you rather than look at you judgmentally, Zayne unaware just how it looked to you. Generally, he keeps his expression neutral but whenever it comes to you he wears his heart on his sleeve. Or he thinks he does - you've just become so attuned to him that you know what every slight quirk of his brow means.

Xavier also does micro expressions that seem a little judgemental, generally whenever you say something he finds a little odd. He isn't sure if it's just because he's missing some context but when he does it one too many times in a conversation you begin to mutter an apology for boring him.

He's tripping over himself to try and correct you, wanting to tell you that it's not that he's bored, he's just struggling to follow the conversation. You confront him by telling him that even when he's following the conversation just fine he still makes faces at you sometimes. He's now forced to admit that he thinks he makes faces the more tired he gets, body subconsciously trying to get the conversation to end so he can go flop onto the nearest fluffy surface.

However, since it hurts your feelings he does his best to monitor himself, trying to be more active in your conversations. You can see how tired he is though, taking pity on him and telling him to go take a nap. You'll be there to infodump on him when you wake up anyway.

Rafayel says things off handedly, especially when he's not feeling well. Normally you can take it well but today you just couldn't, his passive insult hitting you hard. He watches your face cloud over, brows furrowing as he tries to understand what this sudden shift in your mood is attributed to.

You make it clear it's because of what he said about you, the one statement being the straw that broke the camel's back. You ignore him, not wanting to even look at him as you walk away from him. You try to cool off, your mind spinning as his unintentional words play over and over again. It takes you a while before you can even speak to him normally and when you seek him out he looks like a scolded dog.

He immediately perks up when he sees you, apologising profusely when you come back to him. Despite being mad at him, you also know he provides the most comfort so you crawl into his lap and begin to scold him. He takes it in stride, knowing that he messed up and promising that he'll take better note of your mood to know when he should and shouldn't joke with you about things like that.

Sylus has a sharp tongue like Rafayel but he sounds slightly more "serious" when he says those things. His voice doesn't lend well to jokes unfortunately, meaning that if you're feeling a little more raw one day then you're going to take his words seriously, just like today.

He doesn't let you run from him though - grabbing you and asking you what the problem is. You normally can take his teasing, returning it to him twofold. When you don't quip at him he knows something is wrong, waiting for you to use your words and tell him. He's patient whenever it comes to you thankfully, letting you take your time. You struggle in his grip a little, not wanting to tell him right away but the warmth he provides is just too good so you bury yourself in his chest, telling him that he hurt your feelings.

He coos at you sweetly, telling you how adorable you are and apologising by peppering your face in kisses. He hates making you sad and even if he doesn't overtly say it, you know he regrets it by how he's careful not to insult you if you don't start it first, using how you speak to him as a gauge before returning with some of his usual playful nips at you.

[rafey-baby]

forbidden fruit 2

Once upon a time there was a princess and a hunter...

snow white!reader x hunter!rafe

c/w: mentions of violence & murder, one bed (my fav cliche ever!), slightly suggestive, also if it’s not obvious this is *loosely* based on the story of snow white, 18+ mdni!

wc: 2.4k

is he warming up to her? #it’s hard to tell

part one & moodboard

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

“Have you ever considered a less...um, violent job?” she asks, nausea coiling in her guts at the mere thought of harming— let alone killing an innocent animal.  

The inky sky has turned into an even gloomier hue, and if it wasn’t for the luster of the moonlight illuminating their journey, they wouldn’t be able to see a thing. However, it’s still a challenge for them (her) to evade the thick roots hiding underneath the spongy moss and brittle lichen— she thinks her fingers aren’t enough to count the times Rafe has had to prevent her from toppling over onto the soil with a steadying grip on her arm.  

At this point, she can’t comprehend how he even knows where they’re going. She thinks that every rock and tree trunk they pass resembles the last but apparently, he’s using them to track the route to his cabin— something he tried to teach her about two hours ago, but gave up the moment her attention was captured by a tiny squirrel hurriedly scampering off into its hiding spot.   

“If I’m bein’ honest, I think killin’ is the only thing m’good for at this point,” he murmurs while inspecting a fallen spruce in the middle of their path. 

“I’m sure that’s not true,” she argues, rounding the obstacle while he simply steps over it.   

“Tha’s cause you don’t know me. Listen, m’not…m’not a good person, I’ve done some, uh, real shitty things, alright?” he looks over to her, gemstone eyes sullen.   

She wonders if the real shitty things include other people’s blood on his hands. After all, the queen wouldn’t have asked him to end her life if he’d never done it before. A shiver creeps up her spine when a vivid image of him doing something so remorseless flashes in her mind.  

However, it’s soon replaced by him dropping the knife and sparing her life, even if it meant complicating his own.   

“I think…a bad person wouldn’t be helping me right now,” her words are honest but he doesn’t offer her a reply, merely flits his eyes over her frame with a furrow in his brow.   

They fall into a serene silence, wordlessly treading further and further into the somber forest while she keeps getting distracted by the glittering stars above them; mesmerized by the beauty of something so far away from all the cruelty on this planet.   

However, when she goes on to take her next step, the ground (or what she thought was the ground) suddenly cracks underneath her, the partly frozen lid of the pond shattering with a loud crackle— only a surprised squeal leaving her throat when she loses her footing and tumbles right into the frigid water with a splash.   

Turns out, it’s not just some small little puddle that’s partly covered by fallen leaves and branches, but a rather deep one; saturating her all the way up to her neck as she gasps for breath when the coldness surrounds her helpless limbs.  

“Shit.”   

She hears Rafe hiss before humored laughter bubbles from his chest.  

“Rafe, this is not funny,” she complains with her teeth chattering when the icy liquid soaks through the fabric of her dress in an instant.   

“M’sorry, you jus’ look like a wet kitten right now,” he shakes his head, chuckling as he extends an arm towards her— pulling her up and steadying her with a firm grip on her waist.  

“Ow,” she cries out when she leans her weight on her left foot.   

“What’s wrong?” he seems almost concerned as he scans her for any visible injuries.   

“Think I sprained my ankle, it hurts,” she frowns, reaching for his forearm for balance.   

“Of course you did, told you to be careful,” he clicks his tongue, slightly annoyed at the fact that she really is a helpless case. “Can you walk?”   

“I don’t know…” she mumbles; face crumpling up when she tries to take a step forward.   

“Right, uh, c’mere then,” he huffs out before his hands are on her waist once more and he’s lifting her into his arms like a bag of flour.   

“Oh, you don’t have to—”   

“There’s no way you’re walkin’ right now,” he scoffs as he shifts her into a better position before he’s continuing their trek. “What would you even do without me, hm?”   

“Probably freeze to death like you said,” she pouts, eyes despondent when she leans into his supportive hold.  

“Yeah.”   

“M’sorry,” she sniffles, the ache in her foot combined with him being mad at her causing her eyes to burn.  

“Shouldn’t be that long ’till we’re there, princess. Think you can manage not to cry before we get there?” 

“I don’t know…it hurts and m’cold,” she sulks, feeling miserable, even if she knows she should be grateful she’s not dead or alone in the woods right now.   

“You’re a big girl, know you can take it. You’ll feel better soon, yeah?” he attempts to provide her some sort of comfort with his limited knowledge of handling something so fragile.   

She hums out something incoherent in response, weak arms wrapping around his neck as she takes in a shaky inhale— damp skin prickling under the chilly air that’s making the leafy trees sway back and forth, reminding her of shadowy ghosts.  

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -   

“Uh, think there should be a dry shirt for you here somewhere…” he trails off as he goes through his closet. “This is probably a little too big but should be fine, yeah?”   

The cabin is small and secluded; the darkened walls blending in with the rest of the forest and concealing them from the outside, making her feel strangely secure. However, his taste in decor makes her rather uneasy as she tries to desperately focus on the crackling fireplace beginning to warm up her trembling limbs and not the assortment of dead animals and their fur or other body parts on display.   

“Oh, it’s perfect, thank you,” she tears her eyes from the elk antlers presented on the wall, offering him a tense smile when she takes the cottony shirt from him; the material surprisingly soft between her fingertips. 

However, before he has the chance to leave the bedroom in order to give her some privacy, she timidly speaks up again, words clumsy and hurried. “Could you— um, could you help me undress? This corset is quite impossible to take off by myself…especially now that it’s wet.”  

“Uh, right, yeah,” he clears his throat, gesturing for her to turn around before he’s pulling her closer by a grip on her hips, the wooden floorboards creaking underneath their feet making up for the sudden silence.  

She doesn’t know why the gesture feels almost intimate or why it makes her hold her breath when he begins to unfasten the strings holding the corset top together, but a strange shade of suspense colors the air around them nonetheless. 

“A tight little thing, huh?” he rasps as his fingers deftly work on the satiny ribbons— a process that feels eternal while she tries not to pay any mind to the way her heart keeps thumping louder and louder by each passing second. 

When she finally feels the silky material loosening around her middle, she has to will her erratic breathing to slow down as he unhooks the rest of the dress— the fabric forming a pearly white puddle on the floor.  

Then, he’s wordlessly slipping his shirt over her head; the sleeves far too long and the hem fitting her more like a short nightgown.  

“Thanks,” she swallows before she’s gingerly turning around, lacking the courage of looking him in the eye for any longer than a glance.       

“Right, uh, we should get some sleep. You can take the bed ’n I’ll sleep on the floor, yeah?”  

And she’s already nodding before the words register in her disconcerted brain. “Wait, no, it’s your bed. I can sleep on the floor,” she argues immediately, momentarily forgetting why she was so shy in the first place when the weight of being an inconvenience builds up on her shoulders.   

“Nah, m’not gonna let a fuckin’ princess sleep on the floor. S’fine, jus’ take the bed, I don’t want it. Need to make sure we weren’t followed anyway,” he grumbles, attempting to leave the room once more.  

“Rafe, you need sleep just as much as I do. It’s the middle of the night, my stepmother doesn’t even know what you did yet. She’s expecting you to return tomorrow, right?” she tries to reason, not willing to give in because letting him sleep comfortably is the least she can do to even begin returning the favor.  

He lets out a weary sigh before shrugging off his jacket, far too worn out to argue. “Yeah, alright, guess you have a point.”   

- - - - - - - - - - - - -   

They end up sharing the bed.    

And once they’ve both settled into the opposite sides, she’s far too intimidated by Rafe’s disgruntled aura to utter out anything other than a whispered goodnight before it’s quiet once more.    

However, as the night stretches on, she begins to grow restless; tossing and turning on the creaky mattress and driving Rafe mad in the process.

She doesn’t mean to, the last thing she wants is to disturb his rest but her thoughts are racing and she can’t seem to close her eyes for more than a few seconds because truthfully, she feels terrible— everything familiar has been turned upside down in the span of a day and the only life she knows has practically ceased to exist. All she wants is to go home but that’s not an option anymore and it’s scary. 

“Hey, uh, you good?” Rafe’s sudden drawl makes her flinch.    

“Sorry, can’t sleep,” she peeps out, expression apologetic when she twists to face him, causing the sheets to rustle around them.    

“Yeah, me neither since you keep movin’ around like a lunatic,” he grumbles, irritation clear in his tone.   

“M’sorry. Just can’t stop thinking about everything and I just…I’ve never understood why she hates me so much,” she breathes out, features contorting into something heavy-hearted as she chews on her bottom lip. 

He blinks tiredly; movements lethargic when he runs a hand through his hair.   

“The queen? Well, in case you haven’t noticed, she’s, uh, not that alright in the head. M’sure you’ve done nothin’ wrong, okay?” he attempts to reassure her, albeit to no avail.   

“I just— just feel like...this is all my fault, you know? And now you’re in danger too because of me,” she rambles, not able to let the thought go.    

“You don’t need to worry ’bout me, princess. There’s enough people that want me dead already, what’s one more?” he lets out a dry chuckle that makes her frown.    

“What do you mean?”    

“Nothin’ just, uh, listen…the worst thing that’s gonna happen is that she’s gonna have me killed when I don’t return, ’n once she finds out you’re still alive, she’s gonna send her soldiers to bring her your—”   

“Rafe, that’s not helping. Why would say that?” she interrupts him and apparently, he finds her scowling face to be the most hilarious thing in the world because next thing she knows he’s laughing, sleepy features scrunching up as he shakes his head. 

It’s safe to say she does not understand his humor, whatsoever.    

“All m’sayin’ is that we’re gonna have to find someplace good to hide.”    

“We have to leave the kingdom?” she asks, worried.    

“Yeah, think so,” he says, sounding far too impassive for her liking.    

“But I can’t just leave, this is my home.”   

“I know, but s’gonna be okay,” he murmurs, mouth stretching around a yawn.   

“But what if— what if something happens?” she sounds panicked, all the worst-case scenarios bouncing around her skull because she’s never even been this far from the palace. How on earth is she meant to survive in the real world? 

“I’ll keep you safe, yeah? Now can you let me sleep?” he lets out a drowsy exhale, seemingly fed up with the conversation already.   

“But what if—”   

“Shh, c’mere,” he hushes her before he’s tucking her flush against his chest— a heavy palm resting on her thigh to keep her from moving because he’s exhausted and more than aware that tomorrow is going to be a long day, especially with this overthinking princess who he wishes would just shut up.   

It’s something he’d tell her outright if he wasn’t certain that she’d start crying all over again in response— the rest of the hike here with her sobs and hiccups thrumming in his ears more than enough for one day.   

And the sudden proximity seems to work because instantly, she stops shifting around; nearly stops breathing altogether when she swallows. “What are you…”   

“Just, uh, need you to calm down, yeah?” he pats at her hip before she’s clumsily humming out another apology.  

And despite the slight trace of the muddy water, her hair still smells of forest berries and wildflowers, making exasperation worm its way into his veins. He doesn’t understand why she’s trusting her life in his hands so thoughtlessly; it’s like she has no sense of self-preservation with the way she’s blindly following him anywhere, when not even a day ago he attempted to murder her.   

He wonders if she’s always been like this; naive and dumb, always seeing the good in people, even when there isn’t any. All it took was a few remotely sweet words and she’s already allowing him to hold her this close— a foolish deer resting peacefully next to a starving wolf and expecting not to get hurt.    

Momentarily, he gets the urge to just finish the job right now, wrap his arm around her throat until the flame burns out, leaving her eyes dull, lifeless. After all, it would make his life considerably easier. He can almost feel it— the moment her heart comes to a halt in her ribcage as she turns into nothing more than flesh and bones, freeing him from this burden.  

And at the end of the day, it’s part of his nature to kill for his own benefit, muscles nearly stinging with the self-serving temptation because that’s what he’s always been; selfish.    

“Rafe, that hurts,” her voice is small, nervous, nonetheless forcing him to resurface to the current; his rough fingertips mindlessly sinking into the bare surface of her thigh, harsh enough to leave a bruise. 

Her entire form is tense, breathing shallow and limbs unmoving, resembling a rabbit rigid with fear, only amplifying this ever-growing itch under his skin.  

He clears his throat.  

“Sorry,” a mutter through his teeth before she can finally feel the pressure dissipating— his thumb smoothing over the sore patch while he tries to decide what the fuck he should do with her.    

[marsmaximoff]

🦑 hwang jun-ho; headcanons 〇△□

content warning: gn!reader. fluff. mentions of death, coma and jealousy. pet names. no season 2 spoilers. let me know if i missed anything.

word count: 941

author’s note: well, my man is back, and i had to write some headcanons for him. the OBSESSION that i had back in 2021 needs to be studied, omg. anyway, as always, constructive criticism is welcomed, english is my third language, so i apologize for any mistakes. in case i don’t post anything else this year, happy 2025 everybody!! enjoy! 🩷

divider by @k1ssyoursister

〇 pre-games

best. boyfriend. ever.

that’s it, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk

🙃🙃🙃

his love languages are:

1) quality time

he may be a police detective, but he ALWAYS tries to make time for you 

and see you every day, and if he can’t, he’ll save some minutes to call you

loves to hear about your day

big on communication, that’s key on your relationship 

type of boyfriend that picks you up after work, or anything really

he just wants to see your cute face :3

takes you out on cool dates

to the park, to eat, to cute animal cafés

he’s okay with staying in too, just cuddling, talking, watching something….

and 2) acts of service 

will drive you anywhere you need

you get ‘good morning/night’ texts every single day you’re not together

makes you breakfast 

and has no problem with cooking for you

opens doors for you 

pulls out the chair at the restaurant ☝🏻

he’ll simply do anything you need

loves coming home to you, it doesn't matter how shitty or overwhelming his day was, you just put a smile on his face

his favorite thing to do with you is eating

it may sound boring, but he loves to see you taking care of yourself, well-fed and happy

takes you to meet his family

his mom loves you

even his brother likes you

he’s a tease and enjoys seeing you all flustered

i feel like he’d be the type to have many pics of you on his phone that he goes back to whenever he misses you

you’re probably his wallpaper, perhaps even on his wallet too 🤭

some pet names like: “honey”, “love”, “beautiful”, “cutie”

would never cheat

a guard dog

not super jealous -a bit tho- but won't hesitate to step up if someone acts stupid 

(picture that one scene in season 2 when that man mocked him and didn’t believe he was an actual police detective hehe)

shows you off 🤩

checks you out :p

his hand is on you in some way when you’re out

has good emotional intelligence

big spoon

reminds you to take your make up off before bed if you wear any -he may even do it himself if you're too tired

or to take meds

he is just really caring and supportive

doesn't like seeing you worried or anxious because of his job

absolutely hates to see you suffer

doesn’t mind that you may be struggling financially, it won’t change what he feels

will help you with whatever it is

just don’t hide it, he hates secrets and lies

i hate doing it, but there always has to be some 🚩 

he’s the first one that would do it (lying and hiding stuff) to ensure you’re okay and don’t get worried

on a particularly overwhelming day, he will raise his voice at you

can get really overprotective 

some days you may not hear from him, or at least not much

will sometimes struggle to open up about his issues or what’s upsetting him

△ during the games

after your sudden disappearance, worry and fear ate him up

while checking your house he found a weird card

and once he discovered the exact same one at his brother’s, he knew something was going on

heard gi-hun at the police station rambling about some weird symbols and immediately recognized the design

interrogated him about you, desperate to know about your whereabouts 

as soon as he successfully infiltrated the games, he began your search

almost had a heart attack when he spotted you

had to make the effort of his life to stay calm and not run to you

would somehow manage to get you two alone so he can get you out of there (i’ll write about this soon)

almost gets caught

feels betrayed you didn’t tell him and quite angry you’d risk your own life like this

but mostly relieved you’re okay (and still alive)

watches you like a hawk from the distance, ensuring your safety

constantly around, you continuously sense his presence close by 

□ post-games (you died)

had to see your death and practically went numb

blurry vision, ringing in his ears, shortness of breath, sting in his throat

the worst thing tho, was finding out his brother had been behind everything

how could he have done this to you? you trusted him! 

feels completely disgusted

after his coma, he blames himself for everything

dreams about you 

gets you a cenotaph given that your body will forever remain strayed

nevertheless, he still talks to you like you’re there

tells you about his recovery and his progress finding the island

you are his strongest motivation

he’s doing this for you, to provide the love of his life a much deserving peaceful rest

gets you new flowers every few days

he’ll never stop feeling guilty

〇 post-games (you survived)

has nightmares he failed and left you to meet your demise on those cursed games

always there when you have them, and so is his shoulder if you need to cry

reassurance king

hides the identity of his attacker from you

becomes even more overprotective

shared location on at all times

gets paranoid if you don’t text him all day

he swore to never miss a single detail of your possible struggles. not again

you can still tell he holds himself responsible for your time on that island

stays awake at night just watching you sleep safe and sound (will never say it tho)

babies you

bigger spoon

doesn’t let you go out on your own if it’s late, afraid that something may happen and those psychopaths will reach you again

[creamecafe]

Heyyy there I saw your post about allowing a request for various squid game characters. Can I request Hwang In-ho/front man?

Partner! Reader x Hwang In-ho/Front man

Like s/o doesn't know anything about the games and In-ho just have a whole nother identity just for her. She knows that In-ho goes on a business trip for 7 days and then comes back like nothing happens. And just before In-ho leaves for the "business trip" they have fluff moments and In-ho tries his best to keep her out of his other life

🫶🫶🫶

Secrets I have held in my heart

Summary: What the requests says

Pairing: Hwang In-Ho x GN!Reader

Warnings: none just fluff and maybe feelings of guilt, bathing together but it's NOT smut

Author's Note: Thank you so much for requesting this! I hope you enjoy it! I also tried making my own dividers. It's not the best, but if I make one that's decent I'll post them for people to use

Want a request for a Squid Game character like this one? Check out my latest post, read my request guidelines and send a request!

Read on Wattpad & AO3 here

Hwang In-Ho was an interesting man. But he was yours. Your friends and family say they find him to be scary or something off about him. But you can't see him anything else than what he is, a caring husband who makes sure to provide well for you.

He tells you that his job is working at a sales company of always testing new products for people and surveying so you really thought nothing of it. Majority of the time he would go on business trips for at least a week. He never told you where he was going but you never wanted to bother him so much.

It was three days before he left and he always made sure to spend all his time with you. Taking you out to eat at your favorite place, watching your favorite movies, cooking and taking naps together.

Doing these things with you made him happy, but he also felt bad about lying about his work to you. He knew that your perspective and love would change because of that.

He didn't want to lose you because of that. But he also couldn't lose his job.

Today was the last day he would be spending time with you and he wants to make the most of it. You woke up with breakfast in bed. Your favorite.

"Don't worry about work sweetheart, I called in sick for you."

You smiled knowing you were really going to spend the day with him together

After you finish your breakfast, you two would take a warm bath together. Nothing sexual, just you two holding each other and making small talk.

Then it would be you guys just watching TV and cuddling with each other.

He really loves you so much. It was hard keeping his double life from you. But all that mattered was that you were safe and anything that you knew could put you in danger.

A few hours have passed and he ordered take out on your favorite restaurant. There it was again, just talking and him saying he's going to miss you

Before you knew it, it was time for you both to go to sleep. You were sad knowing that the next morning he would be gone.

Both of you guys were wrapped up in each other, cuddling and innocence of you two sleeping together meant so much to him.

The next morning came and he had to get ready to leave. You helped him prepare the stuff he needed, suits, snacks, and a goodbye kiss.

"Promise you'll text me everyday to at least make sure you're alight?"

"I promise my darling."

Both of you smiled at this and kissed each other as he was heading to his taxi. He looked back at you and waved to you.

You waved back and soon the car drove off.

When he was in the car, he pulled out his phone with a text message asking if he was on his way. He responded and then took something out of the pocket from his jacket. It was a picture of you. It would at least be a reminder of everything he's doing for you to have the best life possible even if you didn't know.

It would be a few hours before he had to put his love aside for you and keep focus on the bigger picture.

Navigation | Main Masterlist | Squid Game Masterlist | Hwang In-Ho Masterlist | Request Guidelines | Who I Write For | Join my taglist!

[esote-rika]

More of you to worship | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader

Category: fluff, mild angst

Summary: Spencer Reid has insecurities about his changing body, and you assure him you love him regardless.

Content: body insecurity, established relationship, one mention of New Year

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: Quick little oneshot to end the year! You can thank @reidgif for this one because this gif rekindled my hyperfixation on his tummy. And then I saw a clip of Aisha (Tara’s actress) saying MGG weighs 11 pounds and has the metabolism of a rabbit on speed (lmfao) anyway, I took that and ran with it and now here we are. As someone who struggles with dysmorphia, I did my very best to be as sensitive with this as possible. Last fix of the year, I hope you enjoy it!

Spencer had begun to notice it a few weeks ago. At first, he had foolishly thought that there was simply something wrong with the shirt he had worn. Tactile sensitivity had always been something he dealt with, and this was no different. There had been a certain peculiarity in the fit of his shirt that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Days continued, and it became a persistent bother, impeding his movement when he aimed, and inhibiting his general comfort.

It wasn’t until today, sitting in the bed—one he shared with you—that he finally had the time to inspect what was going on. The two of you had just gotten home from Rossi, who had graciously hosted a New Year’s dinner at his mansion. Spencer had admittedly eaten more than his fill, and that’s when he realized—it showed.

At once, the problem appeared. He was gaining weight. His shirts were bothering him because they were growing too tight, digging into places where they had previously been loose. The realization made him pause, as he stared down at himself.

Sitting on the bed, his stomach had gathered into a bulge, straining against the cloth. It was a new sight, not necessarily unwelcomed, but it seemed to send his mind reeling (to be fair, a lot sent his mind reeling nowadays, he was running on fumes, his only reprieve being you.)

He had never been muscular, had never found the need to be muscular. The team was nearly faultless because everyone filled a role, and they executed that well. He was, has always been, the genius, the expert on everything, as Hotch had called him once. Being the genius of the BAU meant that he had value. Relevance. It brought him great deal of pride, being able to contribute and pick up on patterns and little details that the majority of the team might miss.

It made him feel like he mattered. Needed.

So what if he couldn’t tackle a man down? They used to have Derek and Hotch for that, and now that role was being fulfilled by Luke and Matt, both of whom were utter specimens of the male physique.

But his time in prison had proven to him that he couldn’t rely on just his brains. Not when he had three burly inmates looking for trouble, looking for someone easy. It pained him that someone easy meant someone that looked like him. Tall, gangly, defenseless.

He took another breath and frowned as the fabric around his stomach grew tighter, taut at having to contain this belly that had formed over the course of the evening. A food baby, you liked to call it, because your own tummy was bonded to several factors as well—hormones, food, water intake—that made it fluctuate frequently, normally.

Normal. He tried to remind himself that this was normal, gaining weight was normal, but then again, how could someone tell what was normal when their—his—whole life, he had little experience with the word? Growing up a genius and taking care of an ailing mother skewed whatever sense of normalcy he could have developed.

Besides, his normal meant lanky, thin. His body, the way it was framed and built, had always been long and erring on the side of delicate. It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried to bulk up, it was that his muscles were lean; that was simply how his anatomy worked. It would take a lot more effort to gain more muscle, effort that he, admittedly, didn’t want to exert. It wasn’t his role.

And now, he looked down at his stomach with a crease on his brow, mind whirring with explanations. Weight fluctuations are normal, and they were okay, and he was nearing forty, anyway, of course his metabolism was beginning to slow down, human adults’ bodily functions tend to do that, it was scientific and —

“Honey?”

He looked up, and there you were, your loveliness framed by the plain doorway. Somehow, you made it seem more magical, less boring, as though your very presence just made everything better. He smiled, holding out a hand for you, forcing the wave of insecurity down his throat, down his chest, trying to bury it deep in the recesses of his body.

You walked closer, and the thoughts punched through his attempts to silence them—you wouldn’t find him attractive anymore.

Something must have shifted on his face, a sliver of that anxiety creating fresh lines between his brows, because you paused. A hand ran across your cheek, and he felt the weight of your concern in the action.

“What’s wrong, Spence?”

He drew you closer, pulled you onto his lap. He couldn’t lie to you, not out of his lack of skill, but due to your incessant ability to somehow sniff out the truth from him, one way or another.

“I think I’m outgrowing my shirts.” he said, softening the words with a chuckle. He was ashamed to admit that it was affecting him more than he anticipated; maybe humor would lessen its significance.

“Aren’t you a little too old to be going through puberty?” you asked, matching the teasing tone of his voice. The difference was glaring though; his voice was awfully strained, and yours was lighter, more at ease.

Still, he laughed, buried his face at the nape of your neck. “They’re getting tight around my stomach.”

At that, you pulled back. He swallowed the whine that threatened to leave his lips; he was already being so pathetic over a little pudge, he was reaching max capacity. With bated breath, he watched as your gaze ran over him, eyes flickering with recognition when they landed on his torso.

“Oh they are,” You replied, hands going up to his shoulders, tugging at the fabric there, “Here too. Huh, I guess we’ll have to go shopping then.”

He looked, patiently waited for more.

“What?” you asked, eyes crinkling oh so prettily at the corners that he couldn’t help but press a kiss over them.

“That’s it?” he murmured, disbelief coloring his voice. He had anticipated more of a reaction, maybe a suggestion of ‘oh maybe you should go to the gym’. But you took it with such stride that he was a little confused.

“Yeah, that’s it.” you laughed, brought a palm down to his stomach, that one place that’s causing him to basically break down, “Should there be more?”

He shrugged.

Perched on his lap, you frowned as you watched emotions flicker through his eyes. “Spence,” You murmured, kissing his temple, “Talk to me.”

“I just don't want you to think I'm unattractive anymore.” The words felt bitter in his tongue; it was a relief to release them, get them out of his system. “I was never - you know - sexy before, and now I'm gaining weight.”

“Spence,” You interrupted him gently. It wasn't something you did often; his rambles were one of the things you loved about him after all, but it pained you to hear him get so insecure about something so insignificant as his weight, especially since his body wasn't even the thing that made him attractive to you in the first place, “Belly pudge or scrawny, I think you're hot.”

His eyes softened, looking so impossibly hopeful that you couldn't stop the urge to lean in and kiss him. “Seriously,” You murmured, “It doesn't matter to me. You're handsome, but you're also so intelligent and passionate and sensitive, and those are so much more important than how you look.”

He sagged with relief, arms tightening around you. “Yeah?” He asked as he buried his face in your hair.

“Yeah, honey. I'm not with you because of your looks,” You replied, then with a little laugh, you added, “Although, they certainly are an added bonus.”

His shoulders shook as he chuckled, and you can feel his lips giving you tiny kisses at the crown of your head.

“Besides,” You continued, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck, “The way I see it, there's physically more of you now - more of you to hug, and to love, more of you to worship.”

He was silent, but his grip on you never faltered, breath fanning gently over your hair. “More of me to love.” He whispered, “You're right, that's - that's one way to look at it.”

“Mhmm,” You nodded, “But you really do need to go shopping, can't have you ripping your shirts while you're out on a case. You wouldn't want your team to think you're doing an impromptu strip tease.”

He bursted out laughing, and exhilaration filled your chest. You always took pride in making him laugh, and this was no exception.

“God, I love you.” He said, pulling back and resting his forehead against yours.

“I love you too.” You smiled, then added, “Besides, I think the pudge is cute. You're on your way to a dad bod.”

He laughed again, and if you could hear that sound on loop forever, then you would be in heaven

[cressidagrey]

Such A Mystery - Part 5

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.  

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Currently thinking this will have like 5-7 parts? (That was a nice fever dream. I am now thinking maybe 8-9?)

Max didn‘t wait until he was back at the hotel to call Colette. He was attached to his phone as soon as he got done with that horrible press conference. 

He really didn‘t care what anybody else had to say about that. As soon as he could, he called Colette.

It wasn‘t Colette that picked up though, it was Pascale, her mother.

"Max," she greeted him.

Max was surprised to hear Pascale's voice on the other end of the line. He had been expecting to hear Colette's voice, and hearing her mother instead sent a jolt of anxiety through him.

"How is she doing?" He asked. He didn't need to say more. Pascale understood.

"She's...she's not doing well," Pascale said wearily. He could hear the exhaustion in her voice. "She's been crying almost non-stop since the news broke."

Max closed his eyes, his heart clenching painfully at the news. The thought of Colette crying, of her being so upset and distressed...it was unbearable.

"Can I talk to her?" he asked, desperately needing to hear her voice.

He needed to hear that she was okay, that she was holding up. He needed to know that she was coping.

Somehow. 

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Max held his breath as he waited for Pascale to respond. He could hear muffled voices in the background, and he knew that Pascale was likely talking to Colette.

"Maxie?"

Colette had cried. That was clearly obvious in her voice, how hoarse it was...how even these two syllable seemed to take so much effort from her, her voice hitching. He could hear her shaky breathing over the phone, clearly her trying to get a grip on herself and not worry him even more.

But that had become impossible the moment George Russell had decided to get completely bananas.

"Hey, liefje," he said softly. "How are you doing?"

Colette's voice caught on a sob, and Max's heart ached at the raw emotion in it. He could practically picture her, sitting in their living room, tears streaming down her face as she tried to hold it together.

"I'm...I'm not okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Max's heart clenched in his chest, and he desperately wished he was there with her. He wanted to hold her, to comfort her. But he could only listen.

"What can I do?" he asked, his voice thick with emotions. "How can I help you?"

He needed to do something, anything to ease her pain and make her feel better. "Do you want me to come home?" He asked her. "I'll do it, liefje. Say the word."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. He could hear Colette breathing heavily, clearly trying to compose herself.

"No," she finally said, her voice sounding a bit more steady. "No, please don't. You have a race tomorrow. You need to focus."

Max's heart squeezed at her words. He wanted nothing more than to hop on the next plane back to Monaco and be with her. But he knew she was right. He couldn't just abandon his team and the race like that. "If you change your mind..." he trailed off.

"No, we are not doing that," Colette said shakily. "Your races are yours, and I'll be waiting once you come home."

"You are more important than any race ever could be," he disagreed sharply. More important than anything else to him. He loved her so much. "I want you to know that."

He needed her to know that. 

She had always been a pillar of support to him. Had never questioned how much of his time his career demanded. Had never once thrown it at his head in an accusatory way. She had always accepted it. Had supported him every step of the way, from his first practice in a Formula 1 car, through his first point finish, his first race win, four championships…

She had always supported him. 

But no race win…no trophy, no world champion title was ever going to be as important to him as Colette. 

He would happily give all of that up, if it meant that he got to come home to her. 

He heard her exhale shakily.  "I do know that," Colette said softly. "I know that. But...But even if you were here, you couldn't do anything but hold me. Everybody is..." she trailed off and he could hear another hitch in her breath. "Did you...Did you see what Arthur did?" She asked him, and he could hear the tears in her voice.

"I did, liefje," he agreed softly. "He shouldn't have done that without talking to you first."

"Or to you. This is your life too," Colette disagreed.

"Colette," he said carefully. "I don't care that the public knows. You were the one that wanted to keep this private, which was completely alright with me. I agreed to that. It didn't bother me, liefje. But I wouldn't have cared if it was public knowledge either. I am only upset with Arthur because he upset you."

Colette didn't answer. He could picture her sitting on their bed, cross legged, one hand resting on her baby bump…she took deep breaths, clearly trying to keep her tears at bay.

"I just...I feel so stupid," she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. "I feel so stupid...I shouldn't be so upset by this. But I am and I..." her voice trailed off.

"Hey," he interrupted gently. "You are allowed to be upset, liefje. You are allowed to feel however you feel," he reminded her carefully.​​

There was a knock at the door and he looked up to see Gemma stick her head into the driver’s room, a grimace on her face. "Can it wait?" He demanded from her, not caring at all, that he was being rude.

"No, it can't. George Russell had some more stuff to say," Gemma said hesitantly.

Colette must have heard it, because he got to hear another choked off sob from her.

"Liefje," he said softly. "I want you to let me deal with this, alright? Don't look online. Don't search it out. Just ignore it. Your only job right now is to take care of you and our baby," he told her fiercely. "Let us take care of the rest."

Colette let out another shaky breath on the other end of the line. He could hear her trying to compose herself, trying to push the sobs back.

Finally, she said quietly, "Okay," in a small, meek voice, and he hated how defeated she sounded.

"Go cuddle with the cats," he told her softly. "Let your Mom spoil you."

"M…Maman’s making hot cocoa," Colette offered weakly, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

It was faint, but it was there. And that was all he could hope for right now."I am jealous," he teased her lightly.

"I'd save you some, but it's too good to share," she teased back before her voice caught on another sob, and he knew that this was it. This was the end of her being able to converse with him.

"Hey," he said gently. "I love you. So much."

"I love you too," Colette whispered in a broken voice. "So much."

Max hated that he couldn't be there, he hated that he had to hang up. He just wanted to hold her, to remind her that everything was alright.

"I want you to do something for me," he told her in a firm voice. "I want you to take a bath. And a long one," he told her. "One of the nice lavender scented bubble bath, I always make fun of you about. And I want you to eat dinner. And I want you to watch some of those stupid tv shows you love, and for you to relax. And rest. Can you do that?"

"I...I'll try," Colette said weakly over the line. He could hear her crying getting slightly worse again, the realization that they were ending the call obviously hitting her.

"And then you will take the best nap. And cuddle with our cats," he continued. "Alright? You'll do all that for me?"

"Yes," she answered him, her voice breaking on that one word.

Max closed his eyes, his heart hurting as he took a deep breath. "I am going to hang up now. I'm sorry, love."

"I know," she whispered, and he could hear the desperation in her voice. The need to keep the phone line between them open. But he knew that she was tired and he knew that she was distraught. And he knew that she needed rest. He needed to let her go.

"I love you," he said fiercely. "I love you so damn much, liefje. I'll talk to you as soon as I can."

"I-I love you," Colette managed back, before her voice broke on a sob again. "More than anything. Please...be careful tomorrow, okay? Be careful."

"I will," he promised her. "I swear, I will be careful. I'll come home to you in one piece, okay? I promise."

"You better," she told him in a wobbly voice. It was half pleading, half joking, and it just about crushed him.

"I swear. I'll try my damn hardest," he promised her. "And when I get home? I promise I will hold you for hours. I won't let you go, liefje."

He hung up on her then. And then he turned to Gemma. "What could Russell possibly have said that I should care about it right now?"

"How about that you have spent the last 15 years living a lie and that he wouldn't want you to date his sister, because your girlfriend probably is the one dealing with all your anger issues?" Gemma offered drily.

Max looked at her in disbelief for a moment, his mind refusing to process her words immediately, they were so completely insane.

"What?" He finally asked, his voice coming out in a disbelieving croak. Gemma handed him her phone, a grimace on her face. And there it was in black written text. Screencaps of statements George Russell had made.

 None of it making any sense whatsoever. Max had no idea what the other driver had snorted that had sent him off the rocker like that.

"They tried to get Charles Leclerc to comment as well, but he said it was insulting and that he has not once worried about you and Colette, more the opposite," Gemma said quickly. "Everybody that has ever seen the two of you together knows that it's complete bullshit, Max."

Still. He swallowed.

"I would never lay a finger on her," he said weakly. Not ever.

Colette was...Colette was everything. Colette had been his safe place before he even knew what that was or that he needed one. 

He would rather cut off his own hand than to put a finger at her in anger.

Gemma stepped over to him and laid her hand on his shoulder. "Everybody knows that," she told him gently. "Everyone that knows you knows that you would never. Just like everyone knows that the other stuff Russell has said is nonsense as well."

Max closed his eyes, letting Gemma's words sink in. He knew that they were true. The people in his life, the people that knew him and Colette...they knew that those accusations were completely ridiculous. That even thinking he would ever hurt Colette was laughable.

"But..." he said quietly. "Social media won't care that it's complete crap."

"It'll blow over. You know the online world has the attention span of a goldfish," she said with a shrug. "We'll send the usual suspects to talk to the media tomorrow to make it clear that you neither have anger issues nor that anybody needs to worry about you laying a single finger on Colette," Gemma promised. "I know that this is hurtful, Max, but I think it just makes it very clear that everything that Russell has said has been completely made up."

Max leaned his head against the door behind him, his mind racing, trying to process everything. He knew she was right. That everything she was saying was reasonable. But it still hurt. It hurt that somebody would come at him and his relationship with Colette like that. Especially when it was so clear that they knew nothing about them.

"I'm going to call some people," Gemma told him gently and with a final squeeze on his shoulder left the room.

Max took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, trying to process everything and calm his racing thoughts. He wanted to call Colette again. He wanted to explain again and again that he would never hurt her. That all of this was complete and utter bullshit.

But he didn't want to bother or upset her even more, if she had even been able to rest at all.

And he hated this. He hated this so much.

He really did. He hated that there was nothing he could do.

He hated that the next day was going to be a media circus. He hated that he was going to have to sit in a car for an hour and a half tomorrow, without being able to see or talk to her.

And most of all, he hated George Russell.

Bath. Lavender. Warm Water. And hot cocoa.

She felt like a child again.

Her Maman had been hovering around her all afternoon and early evening, fussing over her when she really didn't need it, but Colette was glad that her mother refused to leave her alone.

Especially when her mother tucked her into bed like she had done when she had been a wayward 6-year old. 

"Arthur didn't think," her mother said softly. "He didn't do this on purpose to hurt you."

Colette let out a shaky breath. "I know he didn't," she said thickly. "But I am just so mad at him. And it just...hurt," she admitted. It hurt more than she had thought.

"I know," her mother said softly.

Another shaky exhale, and Colette closed her eyes, just to keep the tears at bay.

"I knew it was going to come out one day," she admitted weakly. "But I never wanted it to come out like this. Not now.”

Bébé rumbled unerneath her skin, striking out to kick against her ribs once more. She laid her hand over where he had just kicked her. 

Her mother gently sat down next to her, gathering her in her arms and pulling her close. Colette melted into it and leaned into her Mom with a soft, shaky sigh.

"It wasn't right of Arthur to say anything," her mother told her quietly. "He had no right to share that picture. Nor to talk about your relationship. Not without talking to you about it first."

Colette swallowed back another bout of tears, hiding her face in her Mom's chest. "I know," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "I know, it wasn't his news to share, but...it's still just...it's just so upsetting."

Her mother ran a hand over her hair while the other circled her back in a soft, circular motion. "I know," her mother agreed, her voice kind and soft. "But this doesn't change anything. You know that, right? The important people already knew," she continued softly. "Your family and friends. They all know that Max and you are in a relationship."

A quiet nod, Colette still hiding her face in her mother’s chest, her fingers clinging onto her shirt.

"It's just...." she said weakly. "It still hurts. A lot."

Her mother's arms wrapped around her a little tighter, a gentle kiss placed atop her head. "I know," her Mom agreed again, gently rubbing Colette's back. "It hurts, and it sucks, and it's not fair that he didn't talk to you about it before. I'm sorry, Choupinette."

Colette swallowed again, and exhaled, trying to hold it together. But a few tears escaped anyway. "I just...I just wish that he hadn't. I feel so exposed now," she admitted in a half-whisper.

"I know," her Mom agreed again, letting Colette let out another round of quiet tears. "I know, Choupinette," her mother repeated, gently rubbing her back again, her arms tight around her.

Colette sniffled again, her emotions a tangled, swirling mess, and clung on tighter to her Mother. "I just...I just wish Max was here," she admitted in a broken whisper.v"He asked me if he should come home," she admitted softly.

Her mother’s hand ran gently up and down her back, still hugging Colette tight.

"What did you tell him?" she asked quietly.

Colette swallowed past the lump in her throat and breathed in shakily. "I told him to race. I told him I didn't want him to come home," she said shakily, more tears escaping her.

Her mother hummed quietly and hugged her a little tighter. "Why?" Her mother's voice was gentle and curious, no judgement and accusation to be found.

"Because I fell in love with a 12-year-old boy for whom racing was the most important thing in his life,” she answered, her voice soft. “Max has this...passion for it. This incredible love. And I promised myself then, that I was never going to be the one to take it from him," she explained softly. "I was never going to make him chose. Between me and racing."

And maybe that was also because for years...she had wondered if she was going to be the one of the two he would chose. 

Her mother was quiet behind her for a moment, only the soothing motion of her hand rubbing along Colette's back continuing.

And then her mother said, softly.

"You know he would chose you in a heartbeat, don't you?"

Colette buried her face further into her mother, her tears starting to flow again as she let her mother's words sink in.

Because she wanted to believe it. She really, really wanted to.

"He will never need to," she said simply. "He said ​​the same thing but…I would never take it away from him."

Her mother hummed again and tightened her arms around her a little.

"I know you wouldn't," she assured. "But he still wouldn't hesitate, love."

Colette took another shaky breath, trying to keep herself from completely falling to pieces just from the thought of it. It was true. She knew it deep in her bones. Max would drop everything to get to her, if she only asked. And it just made her feel like crying more.

"I just...I just miss him," she admitted in a sniffly voice, her nails digging in her mother's soft shirt.

Her mother's gentle hand was running over her hair again, trying to soothe her as best as she could. "I know, baby," she whispered. "You'll see him soon."

Colette huffed a breath against her mother’s chest, the thought both a comfort and a curse.

She wanted to see him. She wanted to crawl into his arms and just listen to him tell her everything was going to be okay, and believe every single word of it.

Another shaky inhale and exhale, and Colette's hands gripped her Mom's shirt, just to keep from completely falling apart.

It was all so overwhelming, with Max so far away, and just everything in general.

Her breath shuddered again when her mother's arms tightened around her once more, pulling her even closer to her chest, as if she was trying to protect her through sheer force of will.

Colette let her, burying her face in her Mom's soft chest and trying to hold it all together.

[boysmentfs]

The trip to the beach.

A collaboration with @misctf .

Steve was the most cliché of the word "nerd" with only 5'4 tall, with pimples and with irritating little voice he was the target for the jock boys in his university. But despite being victim of sneers and bullying, he was the happiest student in college, he always smiled, helped people and was quite studious. So the mockery towards him mattered little to him. Today was a beautiful Saturday afternoon, Steve was studying hard in his room, he didn't have any plans for today and he didn't care to have one either, his parents were not home so he enjoyed being alone quietly until someone knocked on his house door.

"Who could it be?" Steve sighed, “I’m really behind on my work.” He looked at the essay he was in the midst of completing, “I should...” The second knock was louder, “Must be important.”

Steve quickly made his way to the front door. As he went to open it, he paused. He could hear the boisterous laughter from the other side, the frequent use of the word ‘bro’, and a few belches. His stomach dropped.

“What could they possibly want?” Steve thought miserably, “I should really...” He sighed. It wasn’t in his nature to just ignore someone. What if they needed help?

“Oh shit! Look who it is! What’s up lil’ bro?” Garrett laughed, emphasizing the word ‘lil’. He put his arms behind his head, his biceps bulging.

“Uh hey.” Steve stammered, “Uhm, I...I...” His mind was racing, trying not to stare. Garrett was rather good-looking- dark hair and eyes, his chiseled face framed by a well-groomed, short beard. And looking further down, it was obvious that his years on the baseball team did wonders for his body- all of which was framed nicely in his tight tank-top, “Sorry, just studying today.” Steve blushed, mentally admonishing himself for making it so obvious that he had a thing for the star pitches on the team.

"Studying?! Lil’ dude, come on.” Garrett groaned, nudging one of the other jocks, “Seriously dude, how lame. How about this? We came here to invite you to the beach.” He placed his firm rugged hand on Steve’s shoulder and grinned, “Lil’ dude, it’s gonna be fuckin’ lit. Cheerleaders, booze, you name it. When’s the last time you did something like that, huh lil’ dude?”

Hearing this, Steve raised an eyebrow. None of these things were as appealing to him as Garrett likely thought they’d be. Although, the naively optimistic part of Steve wanted to imagine this could be the start of a friendship with Garrett. Part of him yearning for closeness with the jock. But Steve shook his head before adjusting his glasses- on what planet would he ever be friends with Garrett?

"I don't want to be rude or offensive, but why are you inviting me?” Steve questioned, “Jake and Logan were just bullying me the other day.” The two jocks behind Garrett snickered, earning them a disapproving look from Garrett.

"I know... Dude, but believe me we want to make peace, me and my bros promise we won't make fun of you again!” Garrett replied, no hint of insincerity in his tone, “Besides, it's Saturday and being at home? It's boring as hell."

Steve sighed, mulling over the offer. Would it be nice not to be bullied by these meatheads? Yeah. Would it be nice to spend time with Garrett? Yeah. Did he really think they’d make peace after this? Steve sighed again- the rational part of him saying to shut the door. The other saying to give these bros a chance.

"Okay, okay... I’ll go.” Steve said, the uncertainty of his choice evident in his voice.

“Oh sick lil’ bruh, but like, don’t sound too disappointed.” Garrett laughed, slapping him on the back and knocking the wind out of his small frame.

“But really, I’m doing this to make peace.” Steve insisted, “No funny business.” He tried to sound confident and stern. Garrett smiled and gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up, “Oh and..." Steve bit his lip, “This is so embarrassing but it’s been so long since I’ve been to the beach. I don’t really have any appropriate swimwear.”

"That shouldn't worry you bro! Give me a second." Garret grinned, “You’re just in luck, lil’ dude.” Garrett seemed way too excited, “Check out these!” His bro reached into a bag and handed him some green shorts with a bit of blue and gave them to Steve. "Here! These shorts belonged to one of our bros. Well former bro. He went on to bigger and better things.” Garrett sighed, “Internship or some shit. Brains and brawn, can you believe it?” The other jocks snickered.

Steve looked at the shorts and made a face of disgust. Did Garrett and his bros really think he would wear someone else’s shorts? Why did they seem to have them ready too? Steve awkwardly grabbed the shorts, and looked back over at the group of jocks.

"Garrett... I uh." Steve could see the look of excitement in Garrett’s eyes. Like he was proud of something, “I don’t really feel comfortable wearing another guy’s shorts. And besides, these aren’t going to fit me."

“And why not, lil bro? I wear my bro’s stuff all the time.” Garrett grinned, “I understand that you don't have the same muscle mass as us, but they’re shorts, shorts look good on everyone."

"Yes... but..." Steve sighed- how was he going to make these oafs understand his discomfort when they clearly had no shame?

"Dude, just get changed. We’ll wait here for you." Garrett grinned, “Come on bros, I’ll get the car started. I got a bomb playlist.”

Steve watched as they walked back to their car, all chuckling and talking about their beach plans. And before long, loud obnoxious music filled the air. Steve cringed, worrying what his neighbors might think of the loud music.

“The faster I get this on, the faster we get out of here.” Steve figured, walking back to his room.

Once there, he quickly undressed and examined himself in the mirror. He frowned as he examined his short and lanky frame- his skin pale from the hours spent indoors studying. His brown hair a curly mess atop his head. Nothing compared to the healthy tans and meaty muscles Garrett and his bros sported. Steve shook his head, ignoring these negative thoughts. Instead, he turned his attention to the pair of shorts in his hand.

"This is so disgusting...” Steve mumbled, taking a whiff of them, “Oh god, did they even wash this?” Steve was instantly teleported back to his high school locker room- the smell wafting from these shorts an unpleasant reminder of his days in gym class, “What have I gotten myself into?”

He grimaced as he slowly pulled the shorts up his skinny legs, where they rested over his Marvel boxer briefs. Yet despite his initial disgust, he was surprised to see how well they fit. He figured he owed Garrett some credit- shorts do look good on anyone. Steve walked over to his closet, rummaging around until he found on of his old discarded tank-tops. After placing that over his skinny frame, he smiled.

“Okay, I kind of look the part.” He commented, flexing his skinny arm, “Almost.” He laughed, thinking how ridiculous he must’ve looked.

And as he turned away from the mirror, he felt a wave of vertigo wash over him. He stumbled forward, catching himself against a wall. Steve groaned and wiped some sweat from his forehead, trying to make sense of the sudden dizziness. But as quickly as it had come on, it had passed. And Steve awkwardly walked to the front door, each step feeling somewhat heavier and requiring more focus.

“Oh lil’ dude, you look great!” Garrett said, approaching him, “You’re more than ready for the beach.” He raised an eyebrow, “Ah wait, lil’ dude you forgot your shoes. Logan! Grab ‘em a pair from the trunk.”

Steve only nodded, not really paying all that much attention. His mind felt foggy, his body heavier. When Logan threw the pair of worn-out sandals at his feet, Steve just slid them on. They were clearly too large for him, but he didn’t have the mental bandwidth to make a comment.

“Lookin’ good on ya!” Garrett grinned, putting an arm around Steve’s shoulder and leading him to the car, “God, you reek, lil’ dude.”

Steve shook his head, “No... it’s... it’s the shorts.” He replied, “They smell...”

“Sure, sure lil’ dude.” Garrett chuckled.

Steve wanted to say something in response, but he felt a slight achiness in his feet. And when he looked down, he could have sworn that they looked bigger and now sporting tufts of hair. In that moment, Steve could’ve also sworn that his nostrils were being invaded by an increasingly intense odor- reminiscent of the locker room but somehow worse. Sour and musky, all at once.

“Alrighty lil’ dude, get in.” Garrett said, "Let's go!"

Steve could barely focus. The smells, the boisterous laughter, and the blaring laughter from the bros around him. He grimaced as a can of beer rolled around in the backseat, hitting his foot. He watched as Logan reached down and smirked, before shot gunning the can of beer while his bros cheered.

“Lil’ bro, why don’t you try one?” Garrett asked from the driver’s seat, “Pregame for me, since I’m drivin’ and shit.”

“I’m good.” Steve replied, clearing his throat. His voice sounded off, “I’m not feeling too...”

A beer was thrust against his skinny chest and he looked over at Logan, who had a wide grin on his face. Steve held the beer, staring at it closely. And with his meatier hands, cracked it open. Steve never drank- it wasn’t his thing. But as he cracked open the can, he felt compelled. He was gonna chug it. And as the bros cheered him on, Steve did just that. As he did, he couldn’t possibly realize the bulge in his shorts was growing. His member growing in size, going from a measly 5 centimeters to an astonishing 14 centimeters, a dense forest of pubes sprouting around his new member.

“Buuuuuuuurrrrrppppppppp.” Steve grinned slightly as he crushed the can in his hand as his bros cheered, “That wasn’t so bad.”

“Fuck yeah lil’ dude!” Garrett cheered from the front.

“That was sick bruh!” Logan playfully punched Steve’s arm.

Steve looked down at where Logan punched him and his eyes widened. His arms... his skinny arms... they looked bigger? More defined. Muscles Steve knew he had but never saw were suddenly becoming quite obvious to the naked eye. He looked up at Logan and then up to Garrett.

“Hey somethin’s...” Steve froze. That baritone voice couldn’t possibly be...

But no one paid him any attention. They were going on about the cheerleaders, although Steve noticed Garrett was oddly quiet during the conversation. Occasionally glancing at Steve through the mirror. Steve stirred uncomfortably as Garrett stole glances at him. Why did he keep looking at him? He blushed slightly, trying to appear smaller, but his growing pecs and widening frame made that difficult. He was taking up more space now, becoming uncomfortably close to Logan.

“Dude, can you...”

“Not my fault this car’s so fuckin’ small.” Steve’s eyes widened. He would never talk like that, “What the fuck?” The fogginess in his mind was starting to dissipate. He was becoming acutely aware of his newly massive frame, enlarging pecs, and arms that looked more like tree-trunks than sticks.

Garrett turned to look at him and smiled. "What's wrong bro? You look good.”

“I... don’t... fuckin’...” Steve groaned as his tank-top ripped and he tossed the ruined fabric into the trunk.

He grunted as his muscles pulsed again and again. His frame expanding larger and larger, while Logan just grinned, despite losing more room in the back of the car. Steve gasped as small blond hairs erupted from his massive arms and traveled up. And when they finished coating his massive forearms, the hair in his pits exploded into a dense, musky forest. He grimaced at the smell wafting from them, yet at time went on, the smell was becoming familiar. Somewhat nice actually. He brought his hands to his head as his head started pounding. And in the car’s mirror, he saw that his hair was becoming blond. His curly locks reshaping into a sporty cut. His face becoming sharp and defined, his lips puffing up and forming into a permanent smirk.

“Eric, bruh, you good?” Garrett asked.

Steve let out a baritone groan, “Nah bruh, who the fuck’s Eric?” He grabbed his head again, “That’s... not... my... name...”

As he made eye contact with Garrett, he could feel it. A set of memories. Gym sessions with Garrett. Going to sporting events. Playing videogames. Waking up in each other’s arms... tearing each other’s clothes off... fucking... Steve realized in that moment. Garrett and Eric. They were more than frat bros... they were... A small smile formed on Steve’s lips as he felt Eric’s personality and mind overtake his. And in that moment, he came. The climax so intense that he passed out in the back seat.

“Took him long enough.” Logan chuckled, “You happy Garrett?”

Garrett nodded and parked the car, “Alright bros, give him some time to rest.” Garrett smiled at his sleeping boyfriend, “I’ll be right behind you all.”

As his bros started walking to the beach, Garrett opened backseat door and smiled at his hunk of a boyfriend. He ran a hand down his jaw and gave him a quick kiss, before grabbing his cum-soaked shorts.

“Was hoping you’d save that for me.” Garrett smirked, “But all good, bruh.” He kissed him on the cheek, before quietly shutting the door. He’d let Eric get some rest- besides, they had a long night ahead of them.

[nerdycheol]

Sunsets In December

🎄Pairing: architect major!mingyu x literature major!f reader

🎄Word count: 10k

🎄Genre: college au, strangers to friends to lovers, romance, fluff

note: Finally here!! My first time writing this big of a fic. Exams were on my head so this is heaviiiiiily unedited. Hope you guys enjoy.

reblogs and feedback is appreciated

taglist: @eyearebee @woo-yuli @gyuguys @syluslittlecrows @reiofsuns2001 @archivegyu @jkslvsnella @minwonwoozi @minvxq @somber-reads @caibeauchicfashion 

The winter landscape appeared like a symphony veiled in frost, with everything shimmering beneath the moonlight. Clouds piled upon each other, painting a picturesque scene. However, your current sentiments were far from appreciating its beauty.

You stuffed your hands deep into the pockets of your padded jacket, feeling the warmth slowly seep into your fingers, easing the tension from the cold. A frosty breath escaped your lips as you quickened your pace toward the entrance of your dorm, your mind already set on finding solace under your covers.

As you pushed the door open, the familiar buzz of your roommate Minjeong’s voice greeted you. She was wrapping up a phone call, her tone unusually animated. “She’ll be there,” she said, hanging up just as her eyes landed on you. A wide grin spread across her face. “My girl has arrived!”

You narrowed your eyes, suspicion bubbling up. Dropping your bag on the bed, you asked cautiously, “Why are you so chirpy? You’re never this chirpy. What’s going on?”

Minjeong’s grin turned downright mischievous as she stepped closer. “You know Mingyu, right?” Your nose scrunched involuntarily at the mention of his name. “That architecture major? Yeah, he’s impossible to avoid. It’s like he’s everywhere—always talking too much and smiling like he’s on a toothpaste commercial.”

Minjeong let out a laugh, waving off your complaints. “He’s not that bad...” she said, dragging out the words, clearly softening you up for something. Your arms crossed over your chest. “Why are we talking about him? What’s he done now?”

Her grin grew wider. “So, Jihoon told me Mingyu’s been pestering him to set you two up. And, well... you have a date!”

“No.” You didn’t hesitate, pulling your blanket over your head and cocooning yourself. “Oh, come on!” Minjeong tugged at the blanket, her voice brimming with excitement. “He’s been waiting for ages to meet you properly!” “That’s his problem, not mine,” you muttered from beneath the covers.

“But I promised Jihoon!” she argued, yanking the blanket halfway off, leaving your legs exposed to the cold. A shiver ran down your spine, and with a groan, you peeked out. “When?” “Tomorrow,” she said brightly. “I have class.” “It’s Saturday,” she countered, looking way too pleased with herself. It hit you then—she had planned this all along.

You sighed, burying your face in your pillow. “Fine, I’ll go. But don’t expect me to like him or enjoy it. This is all on you.”

____

The next morning, the sound of your door slamming open woke you from a restless sleep. Minjeong entered, armed with an array of clothes and a sparkle in her eye. “Rise and shine! We’ve got work to do!”

You groaned, rolling over to face the wall. “I’m not in the mood, Minjeong.” She wasn’t having it. “You’re going. And if you’re going, you’re going to look fabulous.”

“I’ll wear jeans and a hoodie,” you replied flatly, still hoping she’d drop the whole thing. “Absolutely not,” she said with authority, dragging you out of bed. “You’re meeting the Mingyu. At least pretend to make an effort.”

You rolled your eyes but allowed her to shove various outfits into your hands. As you tried on each one, you dismissed them with a bored shrug. “This is pointless. He’s not going to care what I wear, and I don’t care either.”

Minjeong crossed her arms, her lips twitching with amusement. “You’ll care when you see the look on his face.” “Yeah, sure,” you muttered, trying not to imagine Mingyu’s dumb, overly cheerful expression.

An hour later, after much convincing, Minjeong had settled on an outfit for you—stylish but simple enough that you wouldn’t feel out of place. “Now for makeup!” she declared, presenting an arsenal of brushes and palettes. “Minjeong, I don’t even want to go. Do we really need to do this?” you asked, watching her with growing exasperation.

“Yes,” she replied firmly. “If you’re going to suffer through this, you might as well look good doing it.”

As she worked on your face, you couldn’t help but sigh. The brush tickled slightly as it swept across your cheeks, and the faint scent of foundation lingered in the air. “This better be worth it,” you grumbled, earning a soft laugh from her.

“Oh, it will be,” she replied confidently, adding the final touches.

When she was done, you had to admit she had a point. The reflection staring back at you in the mirror looked polished yet still very much like yourself. “Alright, let’s get this over with,” you muttered, grabbing your bag.

Minjeong grinned, pulling you into a hug before you left. “Have fun! Or don’t. But I need details when you’re back!”

As you stepped out, dread settled deep in your stomach. Mingyu wasn’t your type—always too loud, too present, and frankly too much. But you couldn’t say no to Minjeong. Hesitantly, you dragged yourself forward, already counting the minutes until you could come back and hide under your blankets again.

------

The café was cozy, with warm lighting and the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. You sat at a small table by the window, fingers wrapped around your cup of tea, trying to stave off the nervous energy that had settled in your chest. This was supposed to be just a simple date, but your mind kept racing with thoughts of how awkward it was all going to be.

Mingyu arrived fashionably late, as usual. He flashed a bright, eager smile as he slid into the seat across from you. "Sorry I'm late! I got caught in traffic," he said, a bit out of breath but still radiating energy.

You simply nodded, offering a polite smile. You didn’t have the heart to explain that it didn’t matter, as you’d been sitting there for only a few minutes. "No problem," you said softly, trying to keep the conversation light.

He didn't seem to pick up on your lack of enthusiasm. "I’ve been wanting to meet you for so long. I kept pestering Jihoon—god knows how irritated he is when I’m around him now?" His words came out in a rush, and you could already feel the pace of the conversation picking up faster than you were ready for. You laughed half-heartedly, not sure how to continue this conversation.

"You major in literature, right? You must be super creative, huh?" he asked, offering his hand for a handshake, his other hand already grabbing the menu. His eyes sparkled with genuine interest, but his voice was almost too enthusiastic, too loud for your liking.

You nodded, trying to smile without overcommitting. "I guess. I mean, I enjoy reading," you said, your tone more reserved than you’d like. You could already feel the disconnect—his high energy clashed with your more laid-back nature.

You paused when the waiter brought his coffee.

Mingyu didn’t seem to notice. “I totally get that! I mean, I like reading too, but I love movies better—especially action-packed ones. Ever seen that one with the building that—” His words were cut off by a loud splat, and you watched in horror as he knocked his coffee cup over, spilling it all over his shirt.

"Ah, shoot!" he exclaimed, jumping back slightly, but only succeeding in making the mess worse. He tried to clean it up with a napkin, but all it did was smear the coffee further, leaving a dark stain across his chest.

You bit back a smile at the sight of his flustered expression but quickly masked it, feeling guilty for finding it amusing. "Are you alright?" you asked, your tone softening slightly.

"Yeah, yeah, I’m good!" He laughed awkwardly, standing up to get more napkins. "Just, uh, classic Mingyu move, right? Always a disaster in the making."

You glanced at him, unsure if you should laugh or not. "It’s fine," you offered, trying to comfort him, but it didn’t seem to make things any less awkward.

The conversation fell into a lull. You both sat there for a moment, the noise of the café around you filling the silence. Mingyu looked a little embarrassed, but his infectious energy didn’t falter for long.

"So," he said, clearing his throat, "how about we go somewhere else after this? I know a cool spot nearby, really chill vibe, perfect for unwinding!"

You glanced at him, not sure how to respond. His enthusiasm was overwhelming, and you didn’t exactly feel the urge to go along with it. "I actually have to head back soon," you said, offering a polite but firm smile.

He blinked, clearly taken aback by your quick refusal. "Oh… okay. I understand." His smile faltered a bit, and he reached for his drink again, taking a large gulp.

The rest of the date passed in an awkward haze. He tried to keep the conversation going, but his words felt like they were hitting a wall. You couldn’t muster the energy to match his enthusiasm, and he seemed to pick up on the distance between you two.

When the check arrived, neither of you said much. You paid for your tea, giving a polite smile as you stood up. "Thanks for meeting me," you said, a little unsure how to wrap up the evening.

While walking out of the café, you stumbled slightly, adjusting your heel. Mingyu noticed your discomfort but didn’t say anything.

Standing beside you, his face flushed from the chaos of the date, he offered a shy smile. "Yeah, no problem. Maybe… we could try again sometime?"

You hesitated, looking at him for a moment. "I don’t think so," you said, the words coming out more bluntly than you intended.

He seemed surprised, but he quickly recovered. "Right. Well, it was nice meeting you, at least. Take care."

You nodded and turned to leave, feeling the weight of the awkwardness settle behind you. As you stepped out of the café and into the chilly night air, you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself. It had definitely been a first date to remember—but not in the way anyone would hope.

As you parted ways, Mingyu watched you walk away. Just as you turned the corner, he suddenly ran into a nearby convenience store.

You were halfway to your dorm when you heard someone calling your name. Turning around, you saw Mingyu jogging toward you, slightly out of breath.

"I—I noticed your heel was bothering you earlier," he said, holding up a small pack of band-aids. "These can help with... the shoe bite."

Surprised, you watched as he kneeled down. "You don’t have to—" you started, but he was already gently slipping the band-aid onto the back of your heel.

“There. Better?” he asked, looking up with a small smile. You nodded, taken aback by his thoughtfulness.

The moment lingered, quiet but comfortable, as the faint sounds of the bustling campus filled the background. Mingyu glanced at his watch and hesitated before speaking again. “Can I walk you back to your dorm? It’s late.”

You blinked, surprised by the offer, but the genuine concern in his voice made you nod. “Sure, that’d be nice.”

As you walked together, the chilly air wrapped around you, but Mingyu’s steady presence felt like a buffer against the cold. The conversation was light, dipping between small observations and moments of silence that didn’t feel awkward but instead comforting.

When you reached the entrance to your dorm, you turned to him, pausing for a moment. “Mingyu, thank you for the band-aid. And… I hope to see you again,” you said softly, the sincerity in your tone surprising even yourself.

Mingyu’s face lit up. "You mean that?"

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips.

As you stepped inside, he pumped his fist in the air and muttered, "Yes!" under his breath, walking away with a newfound spring in his step.

A week had passed since the awkward coffee date with Mingyu. You hadn't expected to see him again, and honestly, you weren’t sure if you wanted to. Yet, as you walked to the library that Saturday afternoon, there he was, standing outside the entrance, his tall frame unmistakable.

Mingyu spotted you almost instantly. His eyes lit up, and he waved enthusiastically. "Hey! What are the odds?" he called out, jogging up to you.

You paused mid-step, caught off guard. "Oh... hi," you said, your voice uncertain.

"Studying?" he asked, gesturing toward the building.

"Yeah," you replied, clutching your bag a little tighter. "It’s quieter here than at the dorm."

He grinned. "I get that. Mind if I join you? I have some work to finish too."

You hesitated. The memory of your last meeting flashed in your mind, and you weren’t sure if you were ready for another round of Mingyu’s boundless energy. Still, his hopeful expression made it hard to refuse.

"Sure," you said finally, leading the way inside.

The two of you found a quiet corner near the windows. Mingyu pulled out a sketchbook, surprising you. He caught your curious glance and held it up towards you with a smile. "We’ve got a big project due soon, so I thought I’d get some work done." he explained.

You nodded, slightly intrigued. As you opened your notebook, you couldn’t help but sneak glances at him. He was focused, his pencil gliding across the page with surprising precision. It was a stark contrast to the clumsy, overly energetic version of him you’d seen before.

"Are you working on a story?" Mingyu’s voice broke the silence.

You blinked, realizing he was looking at your open notebook. "No, just notes for class," you said, quickly flipping to another page.

"Literature must be so interesting," he said sincerely. "Do you write, too?"

"Sometimes," you admitted, feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze.

"That’s cool. I’d love to read something you’ve written."

You laughed lightly. "I don’t think it’s your kind of thing."

"Try me," he said, his tone playful but curious.

Before you could reply, his phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at it, frowning slightly.

"Everything okay?" you asked.

"Yeah, just Jihoon being Jihoon," he said, brushing it off. "He says I’m procrastinating too much."

"Is he wrong?" you teased before you could stop yourself.

Mingyu laughed, the sound drawing a few annoyed glances from nearby tables. "Probably not. But hey, I’m here now, right?"

The conversation flowed more easily after that. You found yourself relaxing, even laughing at some of his stories about his friends and their antics. He had a way of making you forget your initial awkwardness, his warmth and enthusiasm proving to be infectious in small doses.

As the afternoon turned to evening, you packed up your things, feeling lighter than you had in days.

"Thanks for letting me crash your study session," Mingyu said as you both walked out of the library. "You weren’t too bad," you replied, surprising yourself with the playful tone.

He grinned. "High praise coming from you."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile.

"Let me walk you back," he offered, falling into step beside you.

This time, you didn’t hesitate.

-------

A week had passed since your second meeting with Mingyu at the library. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but something about him lingered in your thoughts—his unfiltered enthusiasm, the way his face lit up when he talked about his projects, and, oddly enough, how easily he seemed to brighten the atmosphere wherever he went.

It was late afternoon when Minjeong barged into your dorm, her usual whirlwind of energy filling the room. She dropped onto your bed with a dramatic sigh, tossing her bag aside.

"You won’t believe this," she started, grinning mischievously.

"Believe what?" you asked, glancing up from your laptop.

"Jihoon’s taking me to some event on campus tonight. And guess who’s coming?"

You frowned, already suspecting the answer. "Mingyu?"

"Bingo! He’s been pestering Jihoon to invite you too," she said, sitting up with a sly smile. "You should come. It'll be fun!"

You hesitated, unsure if you wanted to see Mingyu again so soon. "I don’t know... I’m not great with crowds."

Minjeong rolled her eyes. "It’s not a crowd. It’s a small gathering, and I’ll be there. Besides, it won’t kill you to socialize a little. Think of it as a chance to loosen up."

Reluctantly, you agreed, though you weren’t sure why. Maybe it was the faint curiosity about Mingyu or simply the inability to say no to Minjeong’s persistent cheerfulness.

_____

The "event" turned out to be more casual than you’d expected—a small group of students gathered in a common room, chatting, laughing, and sharing snacks. Mingyu spotted you almost immediately, his face lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning.

"You came!" he exclaimed, weaving through the group to reach you. "I didn’t think you’d show up."

"Minjeong convinced me," you said, trying to downplay the awkwardness of the moment.

"Well, I’m glad she did." He grinned, holding out a cup of juice. "Here. No coffee disasters this time, I promise."

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, taking the cup. "Thanks."

As the evening went on, you found yourself drawn into conversations more easily than you expected. Mingyu had a way of pulling you into his orbit, his excitement infectious as he introduced you to his friends and shared funny stories.

At some point, you noticed him fiddling with a small notebook, jotting down notes or sketches whenever he had a moment to himself. Curiosity got the better of you.

"Always working, huh?" you teased lightly, nodding toward the notebook.

He looked up, slightly flustered. "Oh, this? Just some ideas I didn’t want to forget."

"Can I see?" you asked, surprising even yourself.

He hesitated for a moment before handing it over. The pages were filled with intricate sketches of buildings, detailed floor plans, and even small doodles in the margins.

"You’re really talented," you said genuinely, flipping through the pages.

Mingyu scratched the back of his neck, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. "Thanks. It’s just... something I really love doing."

As you handed the notebook back, you realized that his passion for architecture wasn’t just about work—it was a part of who he was. And for the first time, you found yourself wanting to know more about him.

----

Later that night, as you walked back to your dorm with Minjeong, she nudged you playfully. "You seemed to have a good time tonight."

"It was... better than I expected," you admitted.

She smirked knowingly. "Mingyu has that effect on people. You like him, don’t you?"

You rolled your eyes. "I barely know him."

"Maybe, but it’s a start," she said with a wink before disappearing into her room.

As you lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, you couldn’t shake the thought of Mingyu’s sketches and the way his smile had seemed so genuine. Maybe Minjeong was right—maybe it was a start.

The days following the gathering had been surprisingly uneventful. Mingyu hadn’t reached out, and you found yourself wondering why that bothered you. Minjeong, of course, had her theories.

"You’re just not used to someone like him," she said over breakfast one morning, munching on a piece of toast.

"Someone like him?" you echoed, raising an eyebrow.

"You know, overly friendly, a little clumsy, but so sweet that you can’t help but like him," she said with a grin.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. It was hard to deny Mingyu’s charm, even if you tried to convince yourself otherwise.

---

That afternoon, you were sitting on a bench in the campus park, a book in your lap, when a shadow fell across your page. Looking up, you found Mingyu standing there, holding two cups of coffee.

"Hey," he said, smiling sheepishly. "I wasn’t sure if you liked coffee, but I figured it was worth a shot."

You blinked in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I was passing by and saw you," he admitted, handing you a cup. "Figured I’d say hi. Mind if I sit?"

You gestured to the empty spot beside you. "Go ahead."

As he sat down, he glanced at your book. "What are you reading?"

You held it up, showing him the title. He nodded thoughtfully, though you doubted he recognized it.

"Looks... deep," he said, scratching the back of his neck.

You chuckled. "It’s not. Just something for class."

He sipped his coffee, his gaze wandering over the park. "I like this spot. It’s peaceful." You nodded, surprised by the calmness in his voice. For once, he wasn’t bubbling over with energy, and it made the conversation feel easier.

"Do you come here often?" he asked after a moment.

"Sometimes," you admitted. "It’s a good place to clear my head."

He smiled. "I get that. There’s a rooftop near my dorm where I like to sketch. It’s quiet, and the view’s amazing."

You glanced at him, intrigued. "You sketch outside?"

"Yeah. The light’s better, and it helps me focus. Maybe I could show you sometime?" he offered, his tone casual but hopeful.

You hesitated, caught off guard by the invitation. "Maybe."

He grinned. "I’ll take that as a yes."

---

The conversation shifted to lighter topics—favorite movies, embarrassing childhood memories, and the quirks of your professors. To your surprise, Mingyu was a good listener, genuinely interested in what you had to say.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, you realized how much time had passed.

"I should probably get going," you said, standing up and brushing off your jeans.

Mingyu stood too, looking a little reluctant. "Can I walk you back?"

"Sure."

The walk was quiet but comfortable, the kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled. When you reached your dorm, he stopped at the bottom of the steps, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"Thanks for letting me crash your reading time," he said with a lopsided smile.

"It wasn’t so bad," you said, surprising both him and yourself.

His smile widened. "I’ll see you around?"

"Yeah," you said softly before heading inside.

As you closed the door behind you, you couldn’t help but smile. Maybe Minjeong was right—maybe you were starting to like him, just a little.

-----

It was a couple of days before you saw Mingyu again. Between classes and assignments, life had been hectic, but a text from him caught you off guard one evening.

Mingyu: "Busy tomorrow afternoon? Got something to show you."

You stared at the message, debating your response before you typed back:

You: "Not busy. What is it?"

Mingyu: "You’ll see. Meet me outside the library at 3?"

----

The next day, you found Mingyu leaning against a lamppost near the library, a backpack slung over his shoulder. He looked up and grinned when he spotted you.

"Right on time," he said, pushing off the pole.

"I’m curious about what’s so important," you replied, crossing your arms.

"Patience," he said, leading you toward the dorm buildings.

You followed him, confusion growing as he guided you to a side entrance. After climbing a couple of flights of stairs, he pushed open a door, revealing the rooftop he’d mentioned.

The ascent up the stairs was challenging, but it was all worth it. The view was breathtaking. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the campus. A light breeze rustled your hair as you stepped closer to the edge, taking it all in.

"This is where you sketch?" you asked, glancing at him.

"Yup," he said, pulling out his sketchbook and a pencil. "Told you it’s a great spot."

You watched as he settled down, flipping to a blank page. His expression shifted, becoming more focused, and you were struck by how different he seemed in this moment—calmer, almost serene.

"Want to see?" he asked, noticing your gaze.

"See what?"

"What I’m working on," he said, holding up the sketchbook. You sat beside him. The page showed the beginnings of a building, its lines sharp and precise. Even unfinished, it was impressive. "This is amazing," you said sincerely.

He smiled, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Thanks. It’s for a project we’re working on in class. Still a long way to go, though."

"You’re really talented," you said, meaning it.

"Thanks," he said, glancing at you. "You know, I was nervous about showing you this."

"Why?"

He shrugged, looking back at the sketch. "I don’t know. I guess I wanted you to like it." Your breath caught at the sincerity in his voice. For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. 

"I do like it," you said softly.

The two of you fell into a companionable silence after that, the only sounds coming from the scratch of his pencil and the occasional rustle of the wind.

---

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Mingyu set down his pencil and leaned back, stretching his arms above his head. "Thanks for coming," he said, glancing at you. "It’s nice having company up here."

You nodded, surprised at how much you’d enjoyed the afternoon.

"I should probably head back," you said reluctantly, standing up.

"I’ll walk you," he said immediately, packing up his things.

The walk back to your dorm was quiet but comfortable, the kind of silence that felt natural. When you reached your door, Mingyu hesitated, looking like he wanted to say something.

"Hey," he said finally. "Would you… maybe want to grab dinner sometime? Like, just the two of us?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. 

"I mean, no pressure," he added quickly, scratching the back of his neck. "I just thought it might be fun."

You considered him for a moment before nodding. "Sure. Why not?"

His face lit up, and he smiled so brightly that you couldn’t help but smile back.

"Great," he said, stepping back. "I’ll text you!"

As he walked away, you leaned against the door, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nervousness. 

You didn’t think much of it when Mingyu texted you early in the morning the next day: “Are you free today?” You replied with a quick, “Depends. Why?”

Moments later, your phone buzzed again: “Meet me at the art museum. 11 a.m. Trust me, it’ll be worth it 😉.”

You stared at the message, debating if you wanted to spend your Saturday surrounded by centuries-old paintings and sculptures. But the thought of Mingyu’s excitement—and his likely terrible attempts at interpreting art—was oddly compelling.

When you arrived at the museum, he was waiting outside, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. His face lit up as soon as he saw you.

“You came!” he exclaimed, jogging over to you.

“You told me to,” you said, pulling your scarf tighter around your neck. “So, what���s the plan, art connoisseur?”

He grinned, stepping aside to reveal two tickets in his hand. “There’s a special exhibit on architectural influences in classical art. Thought it might inspire both of us—me for my designs and you for your writing.”

You blinked, pleasantly surprised. “That’s… surprisingly thoughtful of you.”

“Surprisingly?” he repeated, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know, I’m always thoughtful.”

“Sure, Mingyu,” you said, rolling your eyes but following him inside.

The museum was quiet, the kind of serene atmosphere that encouraged hushed conversations and slow, deliberate movements. You walked side by side through the exhibit, pausing to admire the intricate details in the paintings and sculptures.

Mingyu’s commentary was as expected—part insightful, part ridiculous. “That statue over there?” he whispered, leaning closer. “Definitely inspired by me. Look at those proportions.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “The statue is of a Greek god, Mingyu. Not everything is about you.”

“I don’t know,” he said, shrugging. ���I think there’s a resemblance.”

Despite his antics, there were moments when his genuine passion for art shone through. He spoke with animated gestures about the structural elements in the paintings, pointing out the use of symmetry and balance in ways that made you see them differently.

“You’re really good at this,” you said as he finished explaining the perspective in a Renaissance piece.

He tilted his head, grinning. “Good at what? Being brilliant?”

“Good at making things interesting,” you clarified, smiling.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just looked at you with that same soft expression he’d been wearing more often lately. It made your stomach flip, though you didn’t let it show.

The exhibit ended with a large installation—a series of sculptures arranged to create the illusion of movement when viewed from different angles. Mingyu stood beside you, his gaze fixed on the display.

“It’s amazing how art can feel alive, isn’t it?” he said quietly.

You nodded, watching the way the light played across the sculptures. “It’s like it tells a story without words.”

He turned to you, his voice softer. “Kind of like us, huh?”

You raised an eyebrow, unsure if he was joking. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… we’re figuring out our own story,” he said, his usual bravado replaced by something more sincere. “And I think it’s turning out pretty great.”

For once, you didn’t hesitate. You smiled, meeting his gaze. “Yeah. I think so too.”

The moment lingered, and you were acutely aware of how close he was standing, the warmth of his presence cutting through the chill of the museum.

“So,” he said after a pause, his playful grin returning. “Ready for the next part of the day?”

“There’s more?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Always,” he said, winking. “Come on. You’ll love it.”

_______

Mingyu didn’t give you much information about the “next part” of the day. He just kept walking with an air of mystery, glancing over his shoulder every now and then to make sure you were still following.

“Mingyu, where are we going?” you asked for the third time, narrowing your eyes at his broad back.

“You’ll see,” he said with a mischievous grin, turning a corner.

When he finally stopped, you found yourself in front of a quaint little café tucked away in a quiet alley. The smell of freshly baked pastries wafted out as Mingyu held the door open for you.

“You brought me to a café?” you asked, stepping inside.

“Not just any café,” he said, guiding you toward a table near the back. “This place is special.”

You looked around. It seemed ordinary enough—warm lighting, cozy décor, soft chatter in the background. “What’s so special about it?”

Mingyu sat down across from you, pulling a small menu from the holder on the table. “They have a rooftop garden. Great view, amazing vibe. Plus…” He hesitated, suddenly looking sheepish.

“Plus what?” you prompted, amused by his sudden change in demeanor.

He cleared his throat. “Plus, I wanted to spend more time with you. Somewhere quieter.” It was rare for Mingyu to say things like that without a teasing edge, and you weren’t sure how to respond.

Before you could say anything, the waiter arrived, and Mingyu quickly ordered for both of you—a couple of their signature drinks and a plate of pastries.

“Wait, how do you know what I want?” you asked after the waiter left.

He leaned back in his chair, smirking. “I pay attention.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling.

After a few minutes, he led you upstairs to the rooftop. The view was indeed stunning—the city stretched out before you, lights twinkling against the evening sky. Small fairy lights were strung around the garden, casting a warm glow over the space.

“Okay, I’ll admit,” you said as you sat down on one of the benches, “this is pretty nice.”

“Only pretty nice?” Mingyu teased, sitting beside you.

“Don’t push it,” you warned, though your smile gave you away.

For a while, the two of you just sat there, sipping your drinks and enjoying the quiet. It was a stark contrast to the usual chaos of your interactions, but it felt… natural.

“So,” Mingyu said after a while, breaking the silence. “What’s something you’ve always wanted to do but never had the chance to?”

You tilted your head, caught off guard by the question. “That’s random.”

“Humor me,” he said, his tone light but his expression serious.

You thought for a moment. “Well… I’ve always wanted to go on a spontaneous trip. Just pack a bag and leave, no plans, no schedule.”

Mingyu’s eyes lit up. “That sounds awesome. We should do that sometime.”

You laughed. “We?”

“Yeah,” he said, grinning. “Why not? You pick the place, I’ll take care of everything else.”

“You’re serious?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Dead serious,” he said, leaning closer. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little adventure.”

You shook your head, laughing softly. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, winking.

As the night wore on, you found yourself relaxing more and more in his presence. There was something about the way he made everything feel easy, like you didn’t have to put up walls or second-guess yourself.

When it was time to leave, Mingyu insisted on walking you back to your dorm.

“Are you sure?” you asked as you stepped onto the sidewalk. “It’s out of your way.”

“It’s fine,” he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I like walking with you.”

You didn’t argue, falling into step beside him. The streets were quiet, and the cool night air carried a hint of winter.

“Thanks for today,” you said after a while. “I didn’t think I’d enjoy myself this much.”

“Is that your way of admitting I’m fun to be around?” he teased.

“Don’t push your luck,” you said, nudging him lightly.

When you reached your dorm, he hesitated, looking like he wanted to say something.

“What?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, then added with a grin, “Goodnight, ___.”

“Goodnight, Mingyu,” you said softly, watching as he turned and walked away.

As you stepped inside, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Whatever this thing between you and Mingyu was, it was starting to feel a lot less complicated—and a lot more like something worth holding on to.

The sharp winter air nipped at your cheeks as you stepped out of the lecture hall, pulling your scarf tighter around your neck. Snow had started to dust the campus grounds, crunching softly beneath your boots as you descended the steps.

At first, you almost didn’t notice Mingyu, bundled in a thick coat and leaning casually against a lamppost just outside the building. His cheeks were flushed from the cold, but his grin was as warm as ever when your eyes met. He straightened up, holding out a steaming cup of coffee toward you.

“Surprise,” he said, his breath visible in the crisp air.

You blinked at him, momentarily caught off guard. “What are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d save you from the freezing walk to the café,” he replied smoothly. “Your professor doesn’t seem like the type to end classes early, so I figured you’d need this.”

You hesitated, keeping your hands buried deep in your coat pockets. “You waited out here in this cold?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m practically a human heater,” he said, flashing a toothy smile and giving the coffee cup a little shake. “Go on, take it. It’s your favorite.”

The warmth seeped into your fingers as you accepted the cup, and you couldn’t help but smile. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Impossible in a charming way, right?” he teased, falling into step beside you as you began walking.

You smiled at him, and before you could respond, your phone buzzed. Glancing at the screen, you saw a message from Minjeong. “Minjeong just texted. She wants to meet at the café. Want to come?”

“Lead the way m’lady.”

The café was bustling when you arrived. Jihoon and Minjeong were already seated in a cozy corner. Minjeong waved enthusiastically as you approached, while Jihoon offered a small nod, his usual reserved self.

“Took you long enough,” Minjeong teased as you slid into the seat beside her. “Were you two busy planning your next cute outing?”

You rolled your eyes, though a slight blush crept onto your cheeks. Mingyu, ever unfazed, leaned back in his chair and smirked. “Maybe. What’s it to you?”

Minjeong grinned, leaning into Jihoon’s side. “Nothing. Just curious. Right, Jihoon?” Jihoon glanced at her, his expression softening. “Sure.” He reached for her hand under the table, a subtle but affectionate gesture that didn’t go unnoticed.

The conversation flowed easily, Mingyu’s boisterous energy balancing Jihoon’s quiet demeanor. Minjeong’s playful remarks kept everyone laughing, and you found yourself relaxing even more, enjoying the warmth of the group.

At one point, Minjeong leaned closer to you. “You know, Jihoon’s been working on a new song. He won’t let me hear it yet, though. Says it’s a surprise.”

You glanced at Jihoon, who looked uncharacteristically sheepish. “Is that true?” you asked, curious.

Jihoon shrugged, avoiding your gaze. “It’s not ready.”

Minjeong beamed. “He’s so modest. But I know it’s going to be amazing.” She squeezed his hand, and he finally met her eyes, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Mingyu, not one to miss an opportunity to tease, leaned forward. “Wow, Jihoon, you’re setting the bar high for the rest of us. How am I supposed to compete with that?”

“You could start by not spilling coffee on yourself,” Jihoon retorted, earning a burst of laughter from the table.

As the afternoon wore on, the four of you lingered, the café’s warmth and camaraderie making it hard to leave. When it was finally time to go, Minjeong linked arms with you, pulling you aside as the boys walked ahead.

“You and Mingyu seem close,” she said, her tone light but knowing.

You hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

She smiled, her eyes twinkling. “Good. He’s a good one. Just don’t let him talk you into any crazy ideas.”

You laughed, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the winter air. As you rejoined the group, Mingyu turned to you, his smile as bright as ever.

As you rejoined the group, Mingyu turned to you, his smile as bright as ever. “Everything okay?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, his breath visible in the cold air.

“Yeah,” you replied, glancing at Minjeong, who gave you a subtle wink before slipping her arm back through Jihoon’s. The two of them walked ahead, their laughter blending with the gentle hum of the evening.

Mingyu fell into step beside you, his hands buried in his coat pockets. “So,” he began, his voice softer now that it was just the two of you, “what crazy ideas does Minjeong think I’ll talk you into?”

You laughed, the sound light against the winter air. “I don’t know, but knowing you, it could be anything.”

“Anything, huh?” He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep it manageable. No mountain climbing in the snow… yet.”

“Yet?” you repeated, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievable in a charming way, though,” he countered, nudging your shoulder playfully.

You didn’t respond immediately, your gaze drawn to the snowflakes drifting lazily from the sky. Mingyu slowed his pace to match yours, the comfortable silence between you more telling than any words could be.

Ahead of you, Minjeong and Jihoon paused near a small park bench, the snow-covered scene illuminated by the soft glow of a nearby streetlamp. Jihoon pulled Minjeong closer, brushing a stray snowflake from her hair with a tenderness that made you smile.

“Those two,” Mingyu murmured, his voice low. “It’s nice to see them so happy.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, watching as Minjeong tilted her head up to Jihoon, her laughter bright and clear even from a distance.

Mingyu turned to you, his gaze lingering for a moment before he spoke. “You know, seeing them makes me wonder…”

You raised an eyebrow, curious. “Wonder what?”

He hesitated, a rare flicker of uncertainty crossing his face before his usual confidence returned. “Just… how some people make it look so easy. Like they already know how to fit into each other’s lives.”

His words hung in the air, delicate and unspoken yet heavy with meaning. You didn’t know what to say, so you opted for honesty. “I don’t think it’s about knowing. I think it’s about trying, about showing up for each other.”

Mingyu studied you for a moment, his expression softening. “You’re pretty good at that, you know. Showing up.”

A flush crept up your cheeks, and you weren’t sure if it was from the cold or his words. Before you could respond, Minjeong called out, waving you both over.

“Are you two coming, or are we leaving you behind?” she teased, her voice carrying easily through the crisp air.

Mingyu chuckled, stepping closer to you. “Guess that’s our cue.”

You nodded, letting him walk slightly ahead before glancing back at the lamppost where he’d waited for you earlier. The memory of his grin, his thoughtfulness, and his presence stayed with you as you followed him and the others into the evening.

_________

The next few days flew by in a flurry of snow and assignments, but Mingyu’s presence became an increasingly regular—and welcome—part of your routine. Whether it was his casual texts asking if you’d eaten or his sudden appearances outside your lecture hall with coffee in hand, he had a way of brightening even the coldest winter days.

One evening, after a particularly grueling study session in the library, your phone buzzed. You glanced at the screen to see Mingyu’s name.

Mingyu: Look outside.

Your brows furrowed, but you pushed yourself up from the desk and walked over to the window. There he was, standing in the snowy courtyard below, waving like a dork.

You: What are you doing here? It’s freezing!

Mingyu: Rescuing you from your books. Let’s go for a walk.

It was hard to say no to him, especially when he was grinning like that. Grabbing your coat and scarf, you met him outside. The snow was falling heavier now, the flakes catching in his dark hair as he offered you a mischievous smile.

“Don’t you have assignments to finish?” you teased as you fell into step beside him.

“Probably,” he admitted. “But I’d rather hang out with you.”

The campus was quiet at this hour, most students tucked away inside to escape the cold. Mingyu led you toward the park near the edge of campus, where the snow blanketed the trees and paths in a serene, untouched layer of white.

“This is my favorite spot in winter,” he said, gesturing toward a bench beneath a towering oak tree. The branches were heavy with snow, and tiny icicles glimmered in the faint light of a nearby lamppost.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, sitting down beside him. The cold seeped through your coat, but Mingyu’s presence seemed to offset the chill.

For a while, you sat in comfortable silence, watching as the snow fell around you. Then, out of nowhere, you spoke.

“You know,” you began, exhaling a cloud of misty breath, “I’ve always wanted to go on a trip in winter. Somewhere quiet, with snow-covered mountains and cozy little cabins. Just… get away from everything for a while.”

Mingyu turned to you, his eyes bright with interest. “Why haven’t you?”

You shrugged, playing with the edge of your scarf. “Too busy, I guess. There’s always something—classes, work, responsibilities. It feels selfish to just drop everything and leave.”

“Selfish?” Mingyu repeated, frowning. “Wanting to take care of yourself isn’t selfish. If anything, it’s smart. Everyone needs a break sometimes.”

You looked at him, surprised by the conviction in his tone. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely,” he said firmly. Then, a grin spread across his face. “Besides, a trip like that sounds amazing. If you ever decide to go, let me know. I’ll carry your bags.”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine. “You just want an excuse to escape your own responsibilities, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” he admitted with a wink. “But mostly, I just think it’d be fun to go with you.”

The walk back to your dorm felt different, though you couldn’t quite put your finger on why. Mingyu’s hand brushed against yours more than once, and each time, it sent a jolt through you. When you reached your door, he lingered, shuffling his feet like he was debating something.

“Goodnight, ___,” he said, his voice unusually hesitant.

“Goodnight, Mingyu,” you replied, though part of you wanted him to stay.

As you turned to go inside, his voice stopped you.

“Wait, ___.”

You spun around, your heart thudding in your chest. He looked nervous, his hands stuffed deep in his coat pockets.

“I just… I really like spending time with you,” he said, his words rushing out in a single breath.

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden confession. But as the warmth of his words sank in, a smile spread across your face.

“I like spending time with you too,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing.

The relief on his face was almost comical, and he let out a soft laugh. “Good. That’s… good.” With one last smile, he turned and walked away  leaving you standing there in the cold with a heart that felt anything but that.

The room was quiet, the soft hum of the heater lulling you into a deep sleep. That was until Minjeong, with her boundless energy, shattered the peace.

“___, get up! We’re going on a trip!”

You groaned, burying your face deeper into your pillow. “Minjeong, it’s four in the morning. What are you talking about?” She tugged at your blanket, her voice insistent. “No time for small talk. Get up! I’ve already packed your bags.”

That jolted you awake. You sat up, blinking at her in disbelief. “You what?”

“Come on,” she urged, pulling you to your feet. “We’re burning moonlight!”

Despite your protests and half-hearted grumbling, Minjeong dragged you out of bed and out of your dorm. The crisp winter air hit you as you stepped outside, and you spotted a car parked nearby. Jihoon and Mingyu were already waiting, the latter leaning casually against the car door with a wide grin.

Jihoon, on the other hand, looked like he’d been dragged out of bed against his will—because he had. His messy hair and scowl said it all. “I still don’t understand why this couldn’t wait until daylight,” he muttered.

“Because spontaneity is fun!” Minjeong chirped, shoving your bag into the trunk before hopping into the backseat.

You hesitated, glancing at Mingyu. He tilted his head toward the passenger seat, his grin softening. “Come on, ___, it’ll be fun. Trust me.”

Still half-asleep and bewildered, you climbed into the car. Mingyu started the engine, and with Minjeong and Jihoon bickering quietly in the back, the four of you set off into the night.

The drive to the cabin was quiet at first, everyone too groggy to speak much. Jihoon had dozed off, his head leaning against the window, while Minjeong hummed softly to a song playing on the radio. Mingyu glanced over at you every now and then, his smile growing when he caught you staring out the window, mesmerized by the view.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” he said softly.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. Where exactly are we going?”

“You’ll see,” he replied cryptically, his eyes twinkling.

_____

By the time you reached the cabin nestled in the heart of a snow-covered forest, the sun had just started to rise, painting the sky in hues of pale pink and gold. The sight was breathtaking. The cabin itself was picturesque, with a rustic charm that made it feel like it had been plucked straight out of a winter postcard.

“Wow,” you breathed as you stepped out of the car, the crisp air filling your lungs. Snow crunched beneath your boots as you tilted your head back to take it all in.

Minjeong, carrying a bag that looked far too big for her, nudged you. “Told you it’d be worth it.” Even Jihoon, who had been complaining for the better part of the ride, seemed impressed as he surveyed the scene, his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets.

“This is… really nice,” he admitted reluctantly, earning a triumphant grin from Minjeong.

Mingyu emerged from the driver’s side, stretching his arms over his head and exhaling a cloud of visible breath. “Wait till you see the inside,” he said, jingling the keys. “I promise, it’s even better.”

The interior of the cabin was just as cozy as the exterior. A roaring fireplace was already lit, filling the space with a warm glow. Plush couches were arranged around the hearth, and a long wooden dining table sat in the center of the room, laden with snacks Minjeong had apparently packed.

“Dibs on the couch,” Jihoon called, flopping down dramatically and closing his eyes as if he were already done for the day.

Minjeong rolled her eyes. “You can rest later. We’ve got plans.”

“We have plans?” you asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Of course we do,” she replied, hands on her hips. “But first, breakfast. I’m starving.”

Mingyu walked past with an armful of blankets, pausing to glance at you. “Make yourself comfortable. This is going to be a weekend to remember.”

And as you stood there, the warmth of the cabin enveloping you and your friends’ laughter echoing around the room, you couldn’t help but feel like he was absolutely right.

After breakfast—a hearty spread of eggs, toast, and Minjeong's insistence on making everyone try her overly sweet hot chocolate—the group settled into the cozy living room. Mingyu had taken charge of stacking more firewood by the hearth, his movements natural and unhurried. Jihoon, predictably, had reclaimed the couch, wrapped in one of the blankets Mingyu had brought out, while Minjeong scrolled through her phone. You were sitting cross-legged on one of the armchairs, the warmth of the fireplace lulling you into a rare moment of complete relaxation.

“Okay, listen up!” Minjeong’s voice cut through the calm. She jumped to her feet, brandishing her phone like a baton. “I’ve come up with the perfect itinerary for our weekend!”

Jihoon groaned audibly. “Please tell me it doesn’t involve anything before noon.”

“Relax, sleepyhead. Today’s all about taking it easy,” Minjeong reassured him, earning a relieved sigh. Then she turned to you with a sly grin. “But tomorrow, we’re going sledding.”

“Sledding?” Mingyu echoed, his brows raising in surprise as he tossed another log onto the fire.

“Yeah,” Minjeong confirmed, her excitement infectious. “There’s a perfect hill just a short drive from here. I already looked it up.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You really thought of everything, didn’t you?”

“Of course,” Minjeong said with a dramatic flip of her hair. “I don’t do things halfway. Besides,” she added, her gaze softening, “I wanted this to be special. For all of us.”

Jihoon cracked an eye open, his expression unreadable for a moment before he muttered, “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Minjeong beamed and threw a pillow at him, which he caught with ease, his small smile betraying his amusement.

Mingyu straightened up, brushing his hands together as if to clear the dust. “Well, if sledding’s on the agenda, we’ll need to build up some energy tonight. How about a hike before dinner? There’s a trail right behind the cabin.”

“That sounds perfect,” you said, the idea of exploring the snowy woods bringing a flutter of excitement.

The group spent the rest of the day settling in, laughing over card games and teasing Jihoon when he inevitably lost. As the sun began to dip behind the trees, Mingyu and Minjeong led the way out to the trail.

The hike was breathtaking. Snow blanketed the ground, and the trees stood tall and bare, their branches etched against the deepening blue of the sky. Mingyu walked beside you, his presence steady and reassuring as the two of you fell into an easy rhythm.

“Not bad for a spontaneous trip, huh?” he asked, his breath visible in the chilly air.

“Not bad at all,” you agreed, your voice quiet as you took in the beauty of the moment.

Minjeong and Jihoon were ahead, their banter floating back to you. Minjeong’s laughter echoed through the trees, and you caught glimpses of Jihoon’s rare, soft smiles when he thought no one was looking.

“You know,” Mingyu said suddenly, his tone thoughtful, “I’m glad we did this.”

You turned to him, your footsteps slowing. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes meeting yours with a sincerity that made your heart skip. “It feels… different. Being out here. Like we’re all exactly where we’re supposed to be.”

His words lingered in the air between you, heavy with a meaning you couldn’t quite place but didn’t feel the need to question. Instead, you let yourself smile, your cheeks warming despite the cold.

As the trail looped back toward the cabin, the glow of its lights visible through the trees, you felt a quiet kind of joy settle over you. This trip wasn’t just a break from reality—it was a reminder of how much these people, this time, meant to you.

_________

The next morning, you were woken not by Minjeong’s voice or the sound of Jihoon grumbling but by the distinct aroma of coffee wafting through the cabin. The sunlight streaming through the curtains painted the room in soft golden hues, and for a moment, you simply lay there, savoring the quiet.

A gentle knock on your door broke the silence.

“___?” Mingyu’s voice came through, low and careful. “You awake?”

Your heart fluttered at the sound. “Yeah, come in.”

The door creaked open, and Mingyu stepped inside, holding two mugs of steaming coffee. His hair was slightly tousled, and he wore a hoodie that looked far too warm and inviting for someone as effortlessly charming as him.

“Thought you might want this,” he said, handing you a mug.

You took it, the warmth seeping into your fingers. “Thanks. What’s the plan for today? Sledding, right?”

He nodded, leaning against the doorframe. “Minjeong’s already got Jihoon outside helping with the sleds. Not sure how she convinced him, but he’s doing it.”

You laughed softly, picturing Jihoon’s reluctant expression. “She has her ways.”

“True,” Mingyu said, his smile widening. “But I wanted to check in with you first. You okay with all this? The trip, the chaos… the early mornings?”

You looked at him, surprised by the question. “Yeah, I’m more than okay. I’m glad we’re here. Feels like a break we all needed.”

He seemed satisfied with your answer, his eyes softening. “Good. Let’s head out, then. The snow’s perfect for sledding.”

The hill was alive with laughter and the occasional shriek as the sleds raced down the slope. Minjeong was relentless, challenging everyone to see who could slide the farthest. Jihoon, despite his earlier reluctance, proved to be surprisingly competitive, much to Minjeong’s delight.

“Come on, ___!” Minjeong called out, waving you over. “You’re up next!”

You grabbed the sled, Mingyu appearing at your side almost immediately. “Need a push?” he asked, a playful glint in his eyes.

“I can manage,” you replied, though your grin betrayed your excitement.

Mingyu crouched beside you, his hands steadying the sled. “Alright, but don’t blame me if you lose to Jihoon.”

“I won’t lose,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes.

The moment he let go, you felt the rush of the wind and the thrill of the descent. The world blurred around you, and by the time you reached the bottom of the hill, you were breathless and laughing, your cheeks aching from the cold and your smile.

Mingyu was already sliding down after you, his sled slightly off course but his expression triumphant. When he finally stopped beside you, he rolled off the sled dramatically, lying in the snow and grinning up at the sky.

“Okay, that was worth the early wake-up call,” he admitted, his voice light and happy.

You flopped down beside him, the snow cold but not unpleasant. “Told you so.” For a moment, the two of you lay there, the world quiet except for the distant laughter of your friends.

“This feels right,” he said softly, turning his head to look at you.

You met his gaze, your breath catching. “What does?”

“Being here. With you….all,” he replied, his voice faltering.

You didn’t know how to respond, but Mingyu didn’t seem to mind. He smiled, his expression unguarded and genuine, before sitting up and offering you a hand. “Come on. We’ve got a race to win.”

You took his hand, the warmth of his touch lingering long after he pulled you to your feet.

Later that evening, as the group gathered around the fireplace, Minjeong was regaling everyone with a dramatic retelling of her sledding victories. Jihoon sat beside her, his arm resting casually around her shoulders, his soft chuckles a quiet counterpoint to her boisterous storytelling.

Mingyu leaned closer to you, his voice low so only you could hear. “I think Jihoon’s smiling more than usual. Must be Minjeong’s influence.”

You glanced at the couple, your heart warming at the sight. “They’re good together.”

“Yeah,” Mingyu agreed, his tone thoughtful. “Kind of like us, don’t you think?”

You turned to him, your eyes widening slightly. But before you could respond, he grinned, his expression teasing. “Relax. I meant in a totally platonic, best-team-on-the-hill kind of way.”

“Sure you did,” you replied, unable to stop the smile tugging at your lips.

Three days passed in a blink of an eye. The final night of the trip had arrived, and the cabin hummed with quiet excitement. Outside, a gentle snowfall added a magical touch to the wintry landscape. The four of you were gathered on the front porch, sparklers and firecrackers in hand, ready to ring in the new year. The snowfall outside had eased, leaving a soft white blanket over the ground, reflecting the flickers of light from the sparklers Minjeong twirled in her hands. She jumped around, her giggles cutting through the quiet hum of the winter night. Jihoon stood close to her, arms crossed, looking as if he were above all the chaos but unable to suppress the slight tug at the corner of his lips.

“Jihoon! Help me light this one!” Minjeong called, waving a firecracker in his direction.

“You’re going to get yourself hurt,” Jihoon muttered, but he moved to help her anyway, his hands carefully guiding hers.

You stood near the porch steps, holding a sparkler of your own, the fizzing light barely matching the warmth that spread through you. Mingyu was nearby, but you felt his presence before you saw him. He was quiet, uncharacteristically so, and when you turned to glance at him, you found him watching you with an expression you couldn’t quite place.

“What?” you asked, feeling self-conscious under his steady gaze.

“Nothing,” he said with a soft smile, stepping closer. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

He hesitated, looking up at the bursts of fireworks lighting the sky before meeting your eyes again. “Stuff. Us.”

The weight of his words settled between you, and your heart picked up a nervous rhythm. You lowered the sparkler in your hand, suddenly unable to meet his gaze. “What about us?”

Mingyu ran a hand through his hair, his usual confidence giving way to an almost boyish nervousness. “I’ve been trying to find the right time to say this, but… I guess there’s no such thing as perfect timing, huh?” He let out a small, awkward laugh, shoving his hands deep into his coat pockets.

Your curiosity spiked, but before you could speak, he stepped closer, his tall frame towering over you in a way that somehow felt protective rather than overwhelming.

“I like you, ___,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “Not in a casual, ‘you’re-my-friend’ kind of way. I mean, I like you. A lot. More than I probably should.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, all you could hear was the crackling of the sparklers Minjeong had forgotten on the snow.

“And I know we’ve been spending more time together,” he continued, his words tumbling out now, “and maybe I’ve been too obvious about it, but I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore. I just needed to tell you. Even if you don’t feel the same, I—”

“Mingyu.”

He froze, his face panicked. “You don’t have to answer me now, okay? I don’t want to make this weird, and if you don’t like me back, we can just forget I said anything, and—”

“I like you too.”

The words came out so naturally that it surprised you both. Mingyu’s eyes widened, his lips parting as if he needed a moment to process what you’d just said.

“You… you do?”

You nodded, a shy smile creeping onto your face. “Yeah, I do. I just didn’t think—”

Whatever you were going to say was cut off as Mingyu let out a breathless laugh, his whole face lighting up in a way that made your stomach flip. He reached up, hesitated for a brief second, and then brushed a strand of hair from your face.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me,” he murmured, his voice so soft you barely caught it.

The two of you stood there, the world around you fading into the background. Mingyu’s hand lingered near your cheek, his thumb grazing your skin as he tilted his head slightly.

“May I?” he whispered, his voice tinged with both nervousness and anticipation.

Your answer was a subtle nod, your heart pounding in your chest as he leaned in. When his lips met yours, it was everything and more—a kiss that was sweet and full of emotions he hadn’t been able to put into words.

The sound of a particularly loud firecracker made you both pull away, and you glanced over to see Minjeong jumping up and down, her sparklers lighting the space around her like a scene from a movie. Jihoon stood beside her, looking half-annoyed but undeniably endeared, his arm loosely draped around her shoulder.

“They’re going to tease us, aren’t they?” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Probably,” Mingyu replied, his grin mischievous as he reached for your hand. “But I don’t care. Let them.”

As the night sky lit up with dazzling fireworks, you felt a warmth bloom in your chest, not from the cold or the firecrackers, but from the boy whose hand you held—steady, grounding, and impossibly right.

[luvyeni]

🦢… ( drabble ) love blindness ̨ ! ୨୧ 一 양정원 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ ヾ

yandere!jungwon・ fem!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut. yandere.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ manipulation. ‎unprotected sex. mentions of murder. wc ・ ‎0.7k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

reaction. can you please do jungwon yandere smut? any concept !!!

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 my first wonie smut , it might be a little awkward I’m sorry 😔

love blindness; that’s what you have, at least that’s what your friends say. you don’t even see the signs. “he’s controlling.” your friends would warn. “he’s constantly there , why does he need to be next to you at all times?”

and to which you just flagged them off. “he’s just being a protective boyfriend.” you stated. “he knows this is my first relationship, so he’s just extra careful.” and maybe that’s why it was so easy; so easy for you to fall into his dangerous and torturous web. “he’s a good problem, i swear.”

no , no he wasn’t a good person; jungwon knew that. he was sick and twisted; and in love with you. “wonie!” he smiled waiting for you outside of the coffee place, he’d been there for the past hour, watching you — of course you didn’t know, you didn’t need to know. “hey baby.” he leaning over kissing your coffee tainted lips. “you have fun.”

you sat in the seat; frowning. “yeah i guess.” he caught on to your behavior. “did something happened?” you didn’t say anything, he grabbed your cheeks forcing you to look at him. “what’s wrong?” he said. “it’s just that my friends were saying something’s today.” you said , he let you go sitting back in his seat. “like what?” you shrugged. “just that you’re controlling and you’re just always there.”

he was seething; how fucking dare they taint your perfect image of him with their words. “they said that about me?” he was planning their brutal demise in his head , but he turned on his best smile just for you. “im sorry they made you sad , but it’s okay.” he said. “we aren’t gonna listen to them.” he placed his hand on your bare thigh. “okay?” you nodded, smiling innocently at him. “they’re just jealous they don’t have a boyfriend that loves you as much as i do.” he squeezed your thigh. “you look so pretty in this dress.”

“th-thank you.” you stuttered out, flustered. “my favorite color too.” his hands inching up your dress. “did you wear it for me?” you tried to suppress a moan as his finger swiped your clothes clit. “wo-wonie , fuck.” you sighed , he pinched in between your thighs. “watch your mouth , you aren’t a nasty slut like those friends of yours , you’re a good girl.” you nodded. “so-sorry.” he nodded , pulling his fingers away. “let’s get home.” his eyes full of lust.

“oh my god!” you moaned out, legs pinned up as he pounded into your sensitive cunt for the past few hours. “wo-wonie i can’t take it anymore.” you sobbed , tears streaming down your face due to his brutal thrust. “se-sensitive.” he loved getting you like this , making you cum over and over ; to the point you were shaking just from his cock touching your cunt. “yo-you can - fuck - you can take it.” his hands wrapping around your throat. “take it like a good girl.”

only he could get you like this; he was the only one who ever got you like this. “my perfect little fuck toy aren’t you?” he squeezed your neck. “letting me use your precious body like this.” losing himself inside you, making his obsessive nature towards you more come out. “minds , all mines.” he growled. “you’re all mines , no one else can have you.” he restricted your breathing even more. “i’ll kill anyone if they ever think about taking you away from me.”

you gasped out as he finally let your neck go , holding your waist pounding into your sopping cunt. “you gonna cum?” you nodded. “ye-yes!” you shouted in pure ecstasy, he smirked holding off on letting you cum , just to see you beg. “please please let me cum.” you sobbed out , eyes crossing. “look at you going dumb on my cock , just how i like it.” he moaned , feeling himself about to cum as well. “cum for me , be a good girl.”

that’s all you needed before your eyes rolled to back of your head , jaw slack as you came. “of fuck you’re clenching so much , gonna fucking cum.” he groaned. “gonna cum inside you -fuck- fuck fuck!” he thrusted one two three times before stilling his hips , his cum shooting from his twitching cock. “take my cum.” he whispered softly in your ear. “good girl.”

that’s how you saw jungwon; as a safe space for you, a protector of some sort. someone who would never do anything to you to harm you; but people who talk bad about him to you and make you think anything less — well that’s a different story.

like he told you … he’d kill anyone who thought they could take you away from him ….

©️LUVYENI

[sir-libearian]

Not as extreme as it sounds like that woman’s case was. My dad was attacked by a bear while out running 10 years ago. I was out of state at college at the time, so I found out about it via phone calls. and I don’t bring it up much because, well. My dad was attacked by a bear sounds really fake to drop casually in just about any conversation.

He was out trail running, rounded a corner. There were two bear cubs on the trail, and it was too close to slow down in time. Mama bear understandably saw him running at them and assumed he was going to hurt the cubs. So she attacked, until she was certain he wasn’t a threat to them anymore. He managed to hike back out of the canyon and flag down a car to take him to the hospital. (He said one of the most annoying parts was facebook comments on the news article afterwards about how he’d “responded wrong” and everyone knows you’re supposed to do x in case of a bear attack. The actual thing happened far to fast to respond.)

It’s the start of sophomore year, I’m walking to my dorm after marathoning anime with my then boyfriend at 10pm. I get a phone call, “your dad is in the hospital, he was attacked by a bear.” I distinctly remember sitting on the cold sidewalk in shock for… quite awhile. I get texted pictures of the injuries, and updates throughout the days/weeks after. Then boyfriend was upset about how distant I was at the time when I needed space to process it all.

Dad was ok, though it was a stressful few months after it happened because I couldn’t go back home. And of course more stressful for my parents. I dont remember the exact number of stitches but it was more than 60? Puncture wound through his hand, lacerations to the head and chest. And he’s got some pretty good scars to show for it. He still goes trail running, but with bear bells and bear spray now.

Back to the insurance side of it. He had to be helicoptered out from our smallish town/city hospital to the big city hospital with specialists for obvious reasons. It would be about a 2 hour drive away. Insurance fought my parents on just about all the treatments because that put the doctor and everything “out of network”. You don’t stop and check “in network” for emergency care like that.

Over a year after the incident, they were still fighting to get coverage for the rabies shots he’d gotten in particular. The insurance company tried to argue that he should have waited on the rabies shots, or gotten it from an approved doctor, or maybe it wasn’t necessary at all. After a bear attack. And yeah, we can agree that mama bear probably wasn’t rabid given the circumstances. But the doctors were still right in giving him the shots, you don’t fuck with rabies. By the time they were “certain” it would have been too late.

They were still fighting over the thousands of dollars of that series of rabies shots by the time I’d left that college. And it’s hard to think of a more extreme and medically necessary case than that.

Did a quick search on rabies shots costs because I doubted my memory here. This is what came up. “The rabies vaccine for humans costs $2,500 to $7,000 for the full 4-dose protocol and human rabies immune globulin (HRIG). Because rabies is almost always fatal if untreated, this life-saving vaccine is necessary if you've been exposed to a rabid or potentially infected animal.” https://bettercare.com/costs/rabies-vaccine-cost-for-humans https://www.npr.org/2022/04/09/1091797594/the-capitol-fox-fascinated-folks-but-no-one-mentioned-the-cost-of-rabies-treatme

And this was all with “good” government job insurance. So dealing with other companies would likely have been even worse.

Health insurance is not a provider. It is a denier.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

cw: hair pulling, 141 sexcapade discussion.

"You know, I've never understood it," Gaz said, folding another hand as the cards Nik turned over on the table ruined his chance of a Full House. They'd had a few, so Gaz's brain was wading slowly towards its point when Soap folded too.

"Ye dinnae ken much, Garrick. Ye gonnae have tae narrow it doon."

Ghost raked in his winnings and then stood with a grunted, "need a slash."

Gaz scowled and flipped over one of the cards they'd been playing with before Nik could tidy it away. The set was raunchy, with depictions of busty girls in various states of undress and intimacy. The Ace of Spades had a brunette facing out of the card, her lover behind her with one hand in her hair. "Why do girls ask for this?"

"Why ask for doggy?" Soap asked, smirking around the top of his beer bottle.

"Nah, mate. The hair pulling. I've had at least two birds ask me for it. It can't be fuckin' good, can it?"

"Aye, well, I dunnae tend tae pull the freaky ones, so..."

"Alright, alright. Shut it. Nik, help me out here." Gaz looked over at their dealer, who was busy expertly shuffling the cards for the next round.

"There is a right way and a wrong way to pull hair, sergeant," Nik said.

Gaz raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"Da, observe." Nik placed the deck down carefully and turned towards Soap. "The wrong way is to grab a random tuft," he lifted a large palm and snagged a handful of Soap's mohawk, shaking him from side to side, "and just start pulling them about. It is wrong. Hurts, no?"

"Ah, Jesus fuck, Nik," Soap squawked, batting at Nik's forearm. "Aye. Feels like ye scalpin' me."

Ghost returned, chuckling low in his throat at Soap's bleats of protest. He rolled his bally up over his nose and took a swig of bourbon, observing the little scene he'd stumbled back in on with interest. "Li'le scrote finally run his mouth too much, Nikolai?"

"Naw, Nik's showin' Garrick how t' pull a lady's hair in bed." Soap growled, head still tilted at an odd angle where Nik had scruffed the strip of ferret fur he called a hairstyle.

"Oh yeah?" Ghost's eyes slid over to Nik, lingering on the hand that released Soap's mohawk. "G'won then, show us the proper way."

"Regrettably, the sergeants both favour the short back and sides, but yours is longer." Nik rose to his feet, matching Ghost in height and bulk. Ghost's hackles should go up, but with Nik, they hadn't in years. It had something to do with how Price was around him, Ghost reckoned. When your damn leader relaxed, you were relaxed. Like a good dog. Nik spread his hands. "May I, lieutenant? Your mask will remain on."

"C'mon, L.T. Lessee."

"I'll buy you a drink at the pub when we get home, sir."

Ghost swallowed, levelling Nik with a heavy stare. "Ya pull my hairline as far as yours and we'll 'ave a problem," he murmured, emptying his glass before placing it down on the table. When Nik stepped into space, he got a hit of expensive cologne and engine oil that sat pleasantly on the back of his tongue. Damn handsome bastard too, all things considered. Ghost tried not to scrutinise what having him so close did to his heart.

Nik's hand settled on Ghost's shoulder first and then slid around the back of his neck, careful to keep his thumb tucked to avoid Ghost's throat.

"You slide your hand up their neck through the roots at the back," he said softly, his hand moving as he spoke, fingertips sliding beneath Simon's bally to the softness of his blond hair. "And you pull upwards, keeping your fingers close to their scalp."

What was left of Ghost's soul left his body momentarily as Nik pulled. His belly did a little flip, his knees suddenly weak, shoulders rising as he sucked in a shocked gasp. The sensation that bristled over his scalp settled behind his eyes, and they rolled closed as it continued down his spine. The world screeched to a halt as Ghost zeroed in on the man before him, his instincts firing off like sparkplugs in an engine struggling to turn over. Frozen.

Nik was watching him closely, his head tilted to the side. "It should not cause pain, but it is a... mammalian response, like a cat scruffing its kitten. It should inspire a feeling of pleasure in submission."

Ghost couldn't breathe. His eyes flickered open and he zoned in on Nik's dark eyes, the fullness of his lips and the unshaven scruff of stubble around his jawline. In that breathless moment, Ghost's entire body tingled with heat and want. He could feel Nik's warmth, so close and yet not touching him at all but for the hand in his hair; a sturdy bulwark waiting to catch him. What Ghost would give to press his face into the open collar of his shirt and rub through the dark hair he could see there, while--

"'Ear that, L.T.? Ye like a big fuckin' kitten."

Soap's jibe broke the spell and Nik released Ghost's hair, stepping out of his space to return to his seat. His gaze lingered on Ghost's eyes before he turned, and for a tense second Ghost was fockin' worried he'd be outed for whatever the hell that was. But Nik sat down with a nonchalant shrug.

"Shut it, Johnny," Ghost grunted. "Don' see what all the fuss is about."

"Aye, ye tell 'em, sir. Missionary with the lights off fully clothed is the only way, eh?"

Ghost flipped Soap his middle finger and grabbed his coat from the back of the chair. "Gonna hit the sack, long day tomorrow. Don' fuck around too late." He left the room at what he hoped was a reasonable pace, but his mind was already elsewhere, namely on the aching boner stretching down his right trouser leg. He was grateful no one could read minds; if he was thinking of Nik as he had a sad, furious and slightly drunk wank, then that was between him and god.

Nik watched Ghost's retreating back over the rim of his vodka glass, his head tilted to the side in thoughtful consideration. The embers he had watched flare to life in those somber brown eyes were unmistakable. He had seen similar in two twin baby blues only two mornings ago.

Khoroshego vam nastroyeniya i do vstrechi, Simon.

[elikajinnie]

hello!! may i request a drabble or a spin off from forbidden taste!heeseung with his reaction or thoughts after taking the antidote for amortentia? and also how he’s desperate to find y/n and why she’s avoiding him for days? 🤭 thank you!! i luv a desperate man 😩

a/n: you may :3 i LOVED seeing this in my inbox when i woke up! And we do all indeed love a desperate man ;)

Warnings: ehm, a desperate man basically?

The fic in question --> click here

--

Heeseung was angry—no, he was livid. The moment the effects of the Amortentia wore off, his mind cleared like a storm breaking apart, and the first thing he thought of was you. Where were you? Why weren’t you there? He had searched and searched, every corridor and corner he could think of, but you were nowhere to be found.

It didn’t help that Yoonhee had been trailing after him, clinging to his arm, tears streaming down her face as she apologized profusely. “I didn’t mean for it to go this far! It was stupid—I know it was stupid, Heeseung, I’m so sorry!”

But Heeseung knew better. He could see right through her feigned remorse. The look in her eyes told him she wasn’t sorry for what she did—she was sorry she got caught. His patience, already paper-thin, finally snapped. He shoved her off and hissed, “Stay away from me,” before marching straight to a professor and reporting her. He didn’t wait to see the consequences unfold; he couldn’t care less. There were far more important things to deal with.

Like finding you.

You, who had been conspicuously absent through it all. You, who he hadn’t seen since after the Amortentia’s haze vanished. A knot of worry had formed in his chest, twisting tighter with every second that passed without an answer. He stormed into the courtyard, seeking out your housemates with frantic determination.

“Where is she?” he demanded, his voice sharp enough to startle a group of first-years nearby. “Where is she?!”

One of your friends finally stepped forward, hesitant but honest. “She’s... she’s been in bed all day. Said she wasn’t feeling well.”

The words hit him like a Bludger to the chest. Guilt and heartbreak washed over him in waves, drowning out the last remnants of anger. You had been suffering alone, likely because of him—because of what had happened, because of everything Yoonhee had done.

He tried everything—everything—to get through to you. He sent letters, each one carefully written, pouring his heart onto the parchment. He sent messages through your housemates, through your friends, hoping they might convince you to talk to him. Every time he saw a friend of yours, he’d stop them, desperate for any sliver of news.

“How is she? Did she eat today?” he’d ask, his voice laced with worry. “Did she sleep? Is she feeling any better?”

It was always the small things—tiny gestures—to show he cared. That he was thinking about you. That he was sorry. He wanted you to know that it had all been the Amortentia, that none of it had been real. None of it had been his choice. And above all, he wanted you to know that he never, ever meant to hurt you.

But no matter how hard he tried, you remained locked away. Your absence stretched between you like an invisible wall, keeping him out. You weren’t just avoiding him—you were avoiding everyone. And it hurt.

It hurt because he couldn’t see you. He couldn’t talk to you. He couldn’t hold you in his arms and kiss away the pain, couldn’t wipe the tears from your cheeks or make all your worries disappear. He wanted to tell you, face-to-face, how much you meant to him, how much he hated himself for letting this happen. But he couldn’t do any of that—not while you stayed hidden away in your common room, unreachable.

So, he waited. He stayed close, always looking for a chance, a moment, a sign. But until then, he would keep trying, keep hoping, because losing you was something he couldn’t bear.

And he did keep trying. Every day, he checked the places you’d usually be—the library where you’d bury yourself in books, the quiet corner of the courtyard where you’d sit when you needed to think, even the kitchens, where you’d sometimes sneak a late-night snack.

But you weren’t there. You weren’t anywhere.

The less he saw of you, the less he heard of you, the more desperate he grew. His patience—what little he had left—was wearing thin. He couldn’t focus in class, couldn’t eat properly, couldn’t sleep without his thoughts drifting back to you. He wanted—no, needed—to see you. To hear your voice, to know that you were okay, that you didn’t hate him. The thought of you hating him gnawed at his heart like a cruel curse.

He tried to remind himself to give you time, to respect the space you clearly needed. But it was hard. Too hard. Every day that passed felt like another piece of you slipping further away, and he couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t let that happen.

When another one of your housemates brushed him off with a mumbled “I don’t know,” Heeseung snapped. He didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but the frustration and worry boiled over. “How can you not know? You live with her! Hasn’t anyone even seen her?”

The girl flinched but reluctantly admitted, “She’s been in the dorm. She just... doesn’t come out.”

Those words were both a relief and a torment. You were there, within reach, but still so far away from him. The knowledge burned in his chest, twisting into something unbearable. You were so close—just a few walls separating you from him—but it might as well have been an ocean. And he was drowning in it.

Heeseung's desperation grew with every passing moment. He found himself pacing the corridors near your common room, running his hands through his hair, muttering curses under his breath. He couldn’t stand this helplessness, couldn’t stand the thought of you being alone, hurting because of him. The guilt was suffocating, pressing down on him like the weight of the castle itself.

He tried to write another letter, his trembling hands scrawling messy, frantic words onto the parchment.

Baby, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I know you don’t want to see me, but please, just let me explain. Please let me make this right.

He crumpled it and started again, feeling like no words could possibly convey the storm in his chest. How could he put into words how much he hated himself for what happened? How could he tell you that the worst part of it all wasn’t Yoonhee’s betrayal or the humiliation of being under the potion’s effects—it was losing you?

He sent the letter anyway, knowing it was just one of many you’d likely left unopened.

The next day, he cornered one of your closest friends in the hallway. “Please,” he begged, his voice cracking. “Please tell her I’m sorry. Tell her... tell her I’ll wait as long as it takes. I just need her to know.”

The friend hesitated, giving him a pitying look before nodding. But he didn’t trust that it would reach you. Heeseung was running out of patience, running out of hope. Every time he thought about the tears you must have shed, the pain you must have felt, it killed him a little more.

Late one night, he found himself back outside your common room again, leaning against the cold stone wall, staring blankly at the entrance. He didn’t even know what he was doing there. Maybe he hoped you’d come out? Maybe he thought you’d sense him there, that you’d realize he wasn’t going anywhere until you let him in.

His fists clenched at his sides, and before he could stop himself, he let out a shaky breath, pressing his forehead against the wall, his shoulders slumping. “I’ll wait. As long as it takes... I’ll wait for you.”

His voice cracked on the last words, but he meant it. Even if it hurt. Even if it felt like he was being torn apart. You were worth it. You were everything.

Eventually, the Christmas Ball arrived, but Heeseung didn’t want to go. The last thing he wanted was to pretend to enjoy himself, but his friends had other plans. They nagged him, teased him, and pushed him to "just have some fun for once." After a mountain of peer pressure, he reluctantly gave in, throwing on his suit and styling his hair without much care.

He still didn’t expect much. The Ball wasn’t going to fix anything—it was just a night to endure. He let his friends drag him along, had a drink or two, and resigned himself to the chatter around him. None of it mattered.

Until he saw you.

Everything else disappeared the moment his eyes found you across the room. You stood at the edge of the Grand Hall, illuminated by the soft glow of the enchanted snowflakes falling from the ceiling. Your dress shimmered, and you looked breathtaking. Stunning. Like a vision he didn’t deserve to see.

And then he realized—you were staring back at him.

His heart stopped. You weren’t avoiding him this time. You weren’t looking away. Your gaze was locked on his, full of something he couldn’t quite place—uncertainty, maybe? He didn’t care. All he knew was that you were here, and you were looking at him.

Before he could even process what he was doing, his feet started moving. His drink was left abandoned on a nearby table as he strode across the hall, weaving through the crowd until he was right in front of you.

He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to.

He had waited for you.

But now, he was done waiting.

For weeks, Heeseung had been nothing but patient, forcing himself to hold back when every fiber of his being screamed to see you, to talk to you, to fix things. He’d stayed away when he knew you needed space. He sent letters, messages, and even flowers, trying to show you he cared without pushing too hard.

And still, he never got a response.

But Heeseung told himself he could endure it, because you were worth it. He could be patient, be understanding, because he loved you. He was good for you, wasn’t he? He cared for you in ways no one else could. No one else would wait this long, worry this much, or fight this hard.

And yet, when he saw you standing there, in your pretty dress, something inside him snapped. He had been so good. He had done everything right. He had given you all the space you asked for, all the time you needed. But seeing you now, after everything, reminded him just how much he’d missed you. How much he’d longed for you. How much it hurt to be apart.

He wasn’t going to let you slip through his fingers again. Not when he knew how good the two of you were together.

He didn’t ask for permission when he reached for your hand, didn’t even hesitate—he simply took it, his fingers curling around yours like they belonged there. Because they did. He believed that with every beat of his heart.

As he pulled you toward the corridor, he felt his resolve solidify. He had been patient, more patient than he thought he was capable of, but patience had its limits. He had waited for you to come to him, but you hadn’t. And now that he had you in front of him, he wasn’t going to let you go.

And when you didn’t fight him as he led you into the quiet hallway, it gave him hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, you wanted this too.

a/n: i love writing his pov :) also im not sure when you put ur perm taglist... so im not adding it here xD already posted so much.