#she keeps telling me i’ll change my mind | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pucksandpower · 9 months ago

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Too Sweet

Toto Wolff x Reader

Max Verstappen x ex!Reader

Summary: Max used to think that you’re too sweet for him … now he has to learn to live with the fact that Toto has quite a sweet tooth (inspired by the song that I’ve had on repeat)

I take my whiskеy neat

The doors to the upscale restaurant swing open and Max strides through, his fingers lightly grazing the small of your back as he guides you inside. The dimly lit interior is bustling with the chatter of well-heeled patrons enjoying their evening repasts. A sharply dressed hostess greets you with a polite smile.

“Good evening, sir. Welcome to The Sazerac Room. Do you have a reservation?”

“Verstappen,” Max replies curtly.

The hostess consults her tablet, then nods. “Right this way please.”

She leads the two of you through the elegant dining room, weaving between tables topped with crisp white linens and elaborate floral centerpieces. Max keeps his hand at your back, his thumb idly stroking in a soothing pattern as you take in the opulent surroundings with wide eyes.

“This place is incredible,” you murmur, craning your neck to admire the ornate chandeliers glittering overhead. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

He simply grunts in acknowledgment as the hostess stops before an intimate table tucked discreetly in the corner. After pulling out your chair for you with a flourish, she sets two leather-bound menus on the table.

“Your server will be right with you,” she informs them before departing with a polite nod.

You waste no time in opening your menu, hungrily perusing the offerings. “Oh Max, look at all these amazing cocktails! The La Vie en Rose sounds divine — rose liqueur, raspberries, lemon ...” You glance up at him hopefully. “We should get a couple of those to start.”

Max barely glances at his own menu before shaking his head. “I’ll just have a whiskey neat.”

Your face falls slightly at his brusque response. “Are you sure? These all look so good! We should live a little and try something fun for once.”

He fixes you with a stern look from across the table. “You know I don’t like frilly drinks. Now stop pestering me about it.”

Chastened by his harsh tone, you lapse into a wounded silence and continue reading the menu with diminished enthusiasm. A few moments later, a dapper middle-aged gentleman in a crisp suit appears at your table.

“Good evening, and welcome to The Sazerac Room. My name is William and I’ll be your server this evening.” With a polite smile, he produces a notepad from his breast pocket. “May I start you off with something to drink?”

You glance back at Max, giving him one last chance to change his mind. When he simply gazes back at you impassively, you sigh. “I’ll have the La Vie en Rose cocktail, please.”

William jots down your order before turning to Max expectantly.

“Whiskey neat,” Max says flatly. “Redbreast 27 Year, if you have it.”

“An excellent choice, sir.” William makes a note. “And may I bring you both some bread from our bakery while you decide on your meals?”

“That would be wonderful, thank you,” you reply gratefully.

William departs to place the drink orders, leaving you and Max alone once more. An awkward silence stretches between you, filled only by the tinkle of silverware and murmurs of conversation from surrounding tables.

Finally, you try again. “Max, are you sure I can’t tempt you with one little sip? This La Vie en Rose cocktail sounds absolutely divine. You might lov-”

“For fuck’s sake!” Max suddenly explodes, slamming his menu down on the table hard enough to rattle the cutlery. “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t want any of your ridiculous fruity bullshit? I’m a fucking race car driver, not some ridiculous Instagram model trying to look pretty with my drink.”

His nostrils flare as he leans across the table, eyes flashing with irritation that you would dare continue to push the issue. “I’ve had a long fucking day and I am going to drink whatever the fuck I want. So order your stupid fucking girly cocktail if you must, but don’t act so goddamn disappointed and keep shoving it in my face when I say no.”

You shrink back in your chair, eyes widening with hurt at his enraged outburst. The crestfallen look on your face is enough to douse Max’s fury like a bucket of ice water. He slumps back, remorse already stirring as he witnesses the light dimming in your eyes, lips trembling ever so slightly as you blink back sudden tears.

“I … I was just excited to try something new together,” you whisper shakily. “But never mind. You’re right, I’m sorry.”

The arrival of William with a basket of assorted breads and your glittering pink cocktail garnished with raspberries provides a merciful distraction from the tension.

You immediately reach for the drink, wrapping your hands around the delicate stemmed glass and taking a large gulp — both to avoid making eye contact with Max and to sample your coveted libation.

A look of bliss softens your features as the tart, sugary concoction bursts across your taste buds. “Mmm, this is incredible!”

For a beat, Max can’t help but drink in your look of pure enjoyment — the way your eyes flutter closed in delight, pink lips quirking into a contented smile as you savor each sip. It simultaneously tugs at his heartstrings and fills him with an irrational stab of resentment.

Here you are, sweet and radiant, able to find joy in the simplest of things … while he is just a miserable bastard who can’t let himself enjoy anything without getting irrationally angry.

You deserve so much better than him.

The thought is sobering and he feels shame burn hot in his gut. Unconsciously, his shoulders slump as he watches you take another euphoric sip of your cocktail.

“I knew it, this is amazing,” you sigh happily, seemingly recovered from his earlier tantrum as you bask in the deliciousness of your drink. “Max, you have to try just one little-”

“No.” The refusal is automatic, the word slicing through your offer before he can think better of it.

Your face shutters once more, the bright light in your eyes dimming as your smile fades into resignation. With a soft exhale, you set your glass down and reach for the bread basket instead.

“Suit yourself, then.”

As you silently butter a roll, Max finds himself at a rare loss, anger dissipating into regret as the knot in his stomach tightens painfully. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration after his impressive win on the track, a chance for the two of you to enjoy each other’s company and make more happy memories together.

Instead, he’s gone and ruined the mood … again … just like he always does.

***

“Another round?” Checo’s voice cuts through the sound of laughter and chatter around the table.

Max glances up distractedly from pushing the remaining bits of food around his plate. He, Checo, and a few other members of the Red Bull team are celebrating a successful Monaco Grand Prix. Despite making the podium, Max’s mind hasn’t really been on the festivities.

“I’m all set, thanks,” he mutters, raising his glass of whiskey with a tight smile before taking a sip. His gaze drifts across the opulent dining room of Cipriani Monte Carlo, idly scanning the crowd of wealthy patrons enjoying their evening meals.

That’s when his eyes catch on a shockingly familiar figure.

You.

Sitting at an intimate corner table, bathed in the soft glow of a candle’s flickering flame. For a moment, Max’s breath catches in his throat as a thousand bittersweet memories assault him all at once.

The hurt look on your face that night at The Sazerac Room … the resignation in your eyes as you accepted, yet again, that he would never be able to appreciate the sweet, simple pleasures that brought you such joy ...

The cold, empty silence that descended over your apartment when he finally left for good, stuffing his belongings into a duffel bag as you watched with trembling lips from across the room ...

Max blinks, and the moment passes — but his gaze remains riveted to your table. Because there, sitting across from you with adoration written across his insufferable face … is Toto Wolff.

Max feels his lips curl into an unconscious sneer as the Mercedes team principal murmurs something to you with a gentle smile, reaching across to delicately brush a lock of hair behind your ear. You catch Toto’s hand as it falls, pressing a tender kiss into his palm that makes the older man’s expression soften even further.

Your waiter arrives then, providing a momentary distraction as he lays out a couple of fresh cocktails on crisp white linen — a bright purple concoction garnished with a sugared rim and a plump cherry for you and an amber-hued old fashioned for Toto.

Your eyes light up as you take in the colorful beverage, immediately wrapping your hands around the delicate stemmed glass and bringing it to your lips to sample. A look of pure delight crosses your features as the no doubt sugary drink bursts across your taste buds.

“Mmm ...” you hum in pleasure, causing Toto to chuckle affectionately as he watches you enjoy the first reveling sips.

Setting your glass down, you gesture enthusiastically toward it as you address Toto. “This is incredible! You have to try it.”

Without hesitation, the Mercedes team boss dutifully leans across the table to take a long pull from your straw. Max watches with a mixture of disgust and morbid fascination as Toto’s expression morphs into one of surprised enjoyment.

“Wow, that is quite good, isn’t it?” Toto remarks with an indulgent grin, licking a telltale dab of purple syrup from the corner of his mouth.

“I told you!” You crow in delight, eyes sparkling with unrestrained glee.

The pure joy radiating from you in that moment is enough to make Max’s heart clench in his chest. He has seen that look before, so many times — whenever he deigned to let go of his surly demeanor for even a moment and actually indulge whatever fleeting whim or simple pleasure you desired to share with him.

But it was always so short-lived with him, stamped out by his own stubborn refusal to truly embrace anything resembling happiness or frivolity. You deserved so much more than his constant scowling and gruff rebuffs.

As if reading his thoughts, Toto then leans across the table to tenderly capture your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. The gentle intimacy of it makes Max’s gut churn as a feeling too complicated to fully unpack blossoms in his chest.

When you finally part, both of you are smiling at each other with such open, unguarded adoration that it’s almost obscene to witness. Toto reaches out to cradle your face in his palm as your lips find his once more in another chaste, loving caress.

This time, when you pull away, you let your head loll back with a look of pure bliss. Something deep within Max cracks and splinters at the sight. In a haze, he finds himself drifting back through the churning currents of memory ...

… that last, fateful shouting match in your living room, both of you red-faced and furious as the dam holding back all the anger and resentment and accusations that had been building for months finally burst ...

… you weeping silently as you clutched a meager trash bag containing what little remained of his belongings, not even able to look at him for fear of collapsing completely ...

… “I’m too sweet for you, Max. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

The acid words burn in his mind even now, feeling as fresh and raw as that night they were spat out like venom between you. His chest constricts as his gaze falls guiltily back to the present day scene in front of him.

Toto and you, basking in the warm, rosy glow of new love — careless and unrestrained in your public affection. Delighting in each other’s company and simple pleasures … just as you always desired for Max to do, yet he could never fully surrender to.

The display is like a twisted mirror, taunting him with the vibrant reflection of what he threw away. What he was too foolish, too emotionally stunted and uncaring to fully appreciate at the time.

Stumbling from his chair in a daze, Max barely registers the questioning looks and concerned murmurs from his team as he staggers from the dining room. He hardly makes it to the privacy of the restroom before bending at the waist, hefting the contents of his stomach into the thankfully pristine porcelain basin.

The whiskey burns on the way back up.

Max grips the edges of the counter, face contorted in anguish as a realization washes over him in searing waves.

You were the real prize all along … and now, he’s lost you for good.

My coffee black

The drone of announcements over the PA system and the dull roar of hundreds of people bustling to and fro mingles into an ever-present white noise hum. Max trudges ahead, the brim of his ball cap tugged low as he weaves through the teeming crowds filing through the airports’ terminals.

It’s just after 5 am, the start of another grueling race week. This time the travel will take you from the Middle Eastern leg of the circuit to the other side of the world in Australia. Twenty-plus hours of planes, layovers, and jet lag beckon — a prospect that grows less and less appealing with each passing season.

A warm weight presses against his side as you shuffle along beside him, head lolling adorably as you struggle to keep your eyes open. One slender hand is looped through the crook of his elbow, gripping the strap of your carry-on bag with the other. You let out a jaw-cracking yawn, leaning into Max’s solid bulk.

“I need coffee,” you mumble groggily. “I’m barely conscious.”

He shoots you a sidelong glance, mouth quirking ever-so-slightly at your dramatics. As grating as your tendency for excessive cheerfulness can be at times, he does admire your ability to shake off the fatigue and stress that plagues him more and more these days.

“There’s one of those chains up ahead,” he grunts, nodding toward the familiar logo peeking through from around the corner.

You light up immediately, straightening and quickening your shuffling steps in anticipation of the caffeinated boost soon to come. By the time you reach the counter, there’s a bright spark back in your eyes that makes the exhaustion plaguing Max’s own limbs feel slightly more bearable.

The barista, a pimple-faced youth who can’t be any older than 18, greets you with a too-wide smile. “Welcome to Daily Grind! What can I get started for you?”

You lean in eagerly, surveying the massive display of chalkboard signs advertising the latest sugar bombs and “coffee” concoctions designed to appease the basic palates of everyday people who wouldn’t know a good cup of joe if it slapped them across the face. Max scowls, already anticipating some ridiculously saccharine order.

“I’ll have a large cinnamon honey oat milk latte, please,” you chirp, as expected.

The barista marks down your request with a perky nod. “Excellent! And for you, sir?”

“Black coffee,” Max replies flatly. “Medium.”

Your brow furrows as you shoot him a quizzical look. “Just black coffee? Not even a splash of cream or anything?”

He shakes his head tersely, one hand already rummaging in his pocket for his wallet as the barista rattles off the total. “We’re in a rush as it is, and that sugary nonsense you ordered takes forever to make with all the fussy bullshit they do to it.”

You wince at his blunt assessment, shoulders slumping a bit in a way that makes a pang of guilt flicker through Max’s chest. He doesn’t mean to be so harsh … but sometimes it’s like the more considerate side of his nature has been ground away by years of constant training and calculating every single variable down to the most minute detail.

The poor kid working the register seems to shrink under the intensity of Max’s gruff demeanor. With shaky hands, he quickly processes the payment before stammering out your total. As you shuffle off to the side to wait for your orders, Max can’t help but keep picking.

“Honestly, I don’t know why you insist on ordering those stupid drinks that are 90% milk and trash,” he mutters, shooting you a disapproving look. “Barely any actual coffee at all.”

You frown, immediately hunching into yourself a bit as you cradle a handful of napkins against your chest. “It’s not like that coffee flavor isn’t there at all,” you argue meekly. “And I have to get some kind of caffeine boost to stay awake during all these flights and race weekends. I just … I don’t really like the taste of black coffee.”

Max scoffs loudly at that, shaking his head in open derision. “Sure, because drinking just regular black coffee like an adult would be too difficult. Instead you have to get your ‘caffeine boost’ from some tooth-rottingly sweet concoction that looks like something a child would order.”

The barista shifts uncomfortably behind the counter, clearly flustered by Max’s abrasive tone. Not that he cares — he’s been dealing with people gawking at him in public for years now. What does rub him the wrong way is the wounded look spreading across your delicate features, eyes dropping to stare dejectedly at the floor.

He opens his mouth to continue chiding you, but at that moment the barista appears with your drinks. The sweet, cinnamony aroma of your order hits Max’s nostrils like a slap in the face, making his nose wrinkle on instinct. You accept your oversized paper cup gratefully, hands automatically curling around the comforting warmth.

With visible enthusiasm, you bring the drink to your lips, unable to resist taking a sip despite the scalding temperature. Max tracks the minute changes in your expression — the slight widening of your eyes, the upward quirk of your lips into a smile of unalloyed contentment. Your lashes flutter closed on a quiet hum of blissful appreciation.

“Mmm … heaven,” you practically moan, hunching over your cup as though to better inhale the revitalizing notes of sugar and spice.

It makes Max want to retch, watching you so unashamedly indulging in such vapid, artificial flavors. How can you find such simple-minded pleasure in that, when you could be savoring the bold, robust notes of a proper cup of black coffee? One meant to awaken the senses and caress the taste buds with its smoky aroma and rich, nuanced flavor notes.

“You can’t honestly get any enjoyment from basically drinking hot milk and flavored syrups,” he mutters, sneering at the offensive beverage in your grasp.

In response, you simply shift closer to him until you’re pressed alongside his body. Your free hand snakes around his bicep, squeezing gently as you tilt your head back to gaze up at him imploringly. Exhaustion and hurt war openly with the angelic softness of your delicate features.

“Max … can’t you just let me enjoy this?” You plead in a low murmur. “It’s early, and we’ve got a long flight ahead.”

His jaw clenches stubbornly, unwilling to back down so easily. Caffeine and sleep deprivation have eroded his already thin sense of decorum.

“I’m just saying, drinking a syrupy dessert drink loaded with sugar and god knows what else isn’t doing you any favors. You might as well just stick to black coffee like a normal adult if you want to be awake and energized.”

The wounded look in your eyes deepens into something more somber and resigned. Slowly, you pull away from Max’s side until a noticeable distance stretches between your bodies. Something inside him shrivels at the loss of contact. Your slender fingers work feverishly at the cup’s lid until it pops off with a dull thunk.

Max stares blankly as you march over to the nearest trash can and upend the contents of your cup into the receptacle. You don’t even seem to hesitate — simply turn on your heel and hurl the now-empty cup in after the wasted drink. It clatters hollowly against the canister, mocking and empty.

When you turn back to face Max, the sight makes the now-lukewarm coffee sitting neglected in his own cup feels like a lead weight in his gut. Your arms are wrapped protectively around yourself, hunched against some unseen foe. Head bowed, you refuse to meet his gaze as you slowly make your way back over to where he stands rooted to the spot in stunned silence.

It’s only as you draw up beside him that Max notices the twin tear tracks striping your cheeks. Your chin remains stubbornly trembling, but you make no move to wipe at the tears now falling freely. Max’s chest constricts almost painfully at the sight of your misery, the guilt gnawing at him as the reality sets in.

He is the reason for it. His harsh, uncompromising tongue has wounded you in one of the cruelest ways once again. Too strict, too unyielding, too incapable of allowing even the smallest indulgences that bring you simple joy without sneering dismissal.

For several agonizing moments, the two of you stand in silence amid the milling crowds of travelers streaming past. Max can’t bring himself to meet your gaze, knowing he’ll only find the depths of his own callous thoughtlessness reflected back at him in your swimming eyes.

Finally, you release a shuddering sigh that sounds far too weighted for someone of your sweetness and light. When you speak, your voice is little more than a tremulous murmur laced with dejection.

“Let’s just go to the gate, Max.”

You brush past him without another word, leaving him to trail numbly in your wake as shame burns a hole through his gut. He watches as your form disappears into the throngs, shoulders already beginning to hunch inward as that spark of happiness in you gutters and fades.

Lingering behind, Max’s gaze falls to the empty cup lying crumpled and discarded in the trash. A reminder of yet another instance where his unchecked tongue and inability to empathize has spoiled an innocent attempt at simple pleasure.

His coffee suddenly tastes like ash on his tongue.

As he moves to dump the neglected drink into the nearby basin, Max wonders with a sinking feeling just how many more times he’ll be able to snuff out your light before it dwindles to nothing.

***

The late morning sun bears down with oppressive force, causing a mirage-like haze to shimmer over the sweltering asphalt of the paddock. Despite being early summer, the Spanish air is already thick and heavy enough to bathe Max’s skin in a sheen of perspiration as he trudges toward the Red Bull Energy Station.

Ahead, he spots a cluster of people milling aimlessly near the entrance to the Mercedes motorhome. At the center appears to be you, head tilted back in unrestrained laughter at something George Russell is regaling you with. The British driver is equally animated, pale features scrunched up in exaggerated motions as he relays what is no doubt an amusing tale.

Max feels his steps gradually slow of their own accord as he takes you in from a distance. You seem utterly at ease and in your element — cheeky grin splitting your face, one hand toying idly with the ends of your hair as your eyes crinkle with unbridled mirth.

A pure vision of effortless contentment.

His gut clenches unexpectedly, unbidden memories of how he methodically chipped away at that very lightness in you until it was all but extinguished washing over him in a nauseating wave. How quickly he took such simple joys for granted ...

So transfixed is he by the sight of your open, honest amusement that Max barely notices the figure slipping up behind you. Not until Toto Wolff raises a conspiratorial finger to his lips, eyes twinkling impishly as he pantomimes for silence at a sputtering George.

You remain oblivious even as the Mercedes team principal slides flush against your back, looping one arm around your waist to tug you snug against his chest. With his free hand, Toto cups it teasingly over your eyes — to which you release a tinkling peal of laughter.

“Guess who?” The playful lilt of the older man’s Austrian lilt is unmistakable, dripping with honeyed warmth.

“Hmm … I wonder,” you murmur coyly, making a show of tapping your chin in feigned confusion. “Is it a dashing gentleman caller here to sweep me off my feet?”

Toto chuckles deeply in your ear, the sound positively dripping with unguarded affection. “Only if you’ll have me, liebling.”

Craning your head back with a cheeky grin, your arms instinctively wind around his neck as you stretch up on your tiptoes to greet him properly. Toto meets your lips in a lingering, languid kiss that has George hastily clearing his throat and looking resolutely anywhere but at the affectionate display before him.

When you finally part, all radiant smiles and flushed cheeks, it’s like the rest of the world has completely fallen away. Toto gazes down at you with such pure adoration that Max feels his throat constrict as though a belt is suddenly cinched tight around it.

“I have a surprise for you, schnucki,” Toto murmurs huskily, lips brushing your temple as he speaks.

You light up like a kid on Christmas morning, practically vibrating with excitement at his words. “Oh? Do tell!”

With a wink and roguish smile, Toto brandishes his other hand from behind his back — in it, clutched protectively, is a large cup topped with whipped cream and what looks like edible flower petals sprinkled over the top. The light purple hue of the iced contents catches in the bright sun, refracting a prism of soft, delicate colors.

“I had the barista in our hospitality whip this up for you,” Toto explains fondly. “After I mentioned how much you enjoy trying unique coffee flavors. It’s a lavender vanilla iced latte.”

Your mouth drops open in a perfect ‘o’ of delight as you instinctively make grabby motions toward the tantalizing beverage. Max recognizes that earnest enthusiasm all too well. It’s the same look you used to get whenever presented with any unique taste or experience to appreciate.

A look he always met with disdain and scorn.

Toto doesn’t hesitate for a second before depositing the cup into your greedy hands. You immediately cradle it reverently, as though it’s the most precious thing you’ve ever held. Ducking your head, you take a long pull through the striped paper straw.

The expression that blossoms across your features as that first taste bursts over your tongue is one of pure, unadulterated bliss. Your eyes flutter closed on a muffled moan of sinful enjoyment, lips pursing as though savoring each individual note of flavor. Max hasn’t seen you look that unguardedly delighted by anything in … well, he can’t actually recall the last time.

“Oh Toto, this is heavenly!” You gush, swiping your tongue across your lower lip to catch a stray drop of condensation. “The lavender is subtle, but gives it such a uniquely fresh and floral twist. And the vanilla adds this creamy sweetness that keeps it from being overwhelming.”

You open your eyes to beam radiantly up at the older man, who returns your luminous smile with equal warmth. “It’s perfect, thank you! You have to try it.”

Without prompting, you eagerly offer the cup up to Toto. He accepts it with an indulgent chuckle, locking eyes with you as he takes a contemplative sip — no doubt eager to share in whatever fleeting moment of bliss the simple drink has brought you.

Unlike Max, who would have turned up his nose and likely received it with derision, Toto seems to savor the complex blend of flavors. Humming thoughtfully, he swipes his tongue across his upper lip as though committing each separate note to memory.

“You’re quite right, liebling,” he agrees readily, “this is delightful. So refreshing for this heat. I may have to acquire a taste for these iced coffees myself.”

You positively glow at his assessment, lighting up from within like a joyful little sun. Max is helpless before the storm of emotions suddenly ripping through him at the sight.

“Oh! That reminds me,” you chirp giddily, bouncing on the balls of your feet, “I was talking to the barista about maybe incorporating some other floral syrups for iced coffees too. Like rose or hibiscus! And maybe we could get her to try making those fun layered drinks with the espresso on the bottom-”

Toto’s deep belly laugh cuts off your stream of eager rambling. Without warning, he snakes an arm around your waist and tugs you flush against him once more. You let out a startled giggle as he buries his nose in the crook of your neck, lips brushing the feverish pulse point just beneath your jaw.

“You adorable thing,” he rumbles warmly, words slightly muffled against your skin as he presses a languid line of kisses along the sharp line of your jaw. “So enthusiastic about the simplest pleasures in life ...”

Pulling back, Toto lifts one hand to tenderly cradle the side of your face. You automatically nuzzle into his palm with a look of such smitten devotion that it makes Max’s heart stutter behind his ribcage. When Toto leans in to seal his lips over yours once more, the kiss is deep and thoroughly unhurried — as though the two of you have all the time in the world to savor this intimate little moment.

Max’s hands clench into white-knuckled fists, blunt nails biting crescent moons into his clammy palms. He should turn away, leave you to your blissful display with someone who so clearly appreciates you. Yet he remains rooted in place, unable to tear his eyes from the scene unfolding before him.

It’s like witnessing an alternate universe version of your shared lives play out in vivid, scorching detail.

In this reality, Toto is the one tenderly stroking the pad of his thumb over the elegant arch of your cheekbone as the two of you part, drinking in the sight of your passion-addled features hungrily. He is the one basking in the radiance of your bright and unrestrained joy. Celebrating each of your simple thrills, from the most frivolous of flavored coffees to the sensual graze of skin on skin.

And where does that leave Max? An outsider peering in at paradise with his face smeared against the glass, watching the warmth and affection he could never fully embrace slowly slip through his calloused fingers.

And my bed at three

The mattress shifts, the subtle movement rousing Max from his slumber. He cracks one eye open to find the space next to him empty, the sheets disheveled where you had lain.

A glance at the digital clock on the nightstand tells him it’s not yet 5 am. Where are you going at this hour?

He hears faint rustling from the living area of the hotel suite, followed by the soft click of the door. Groaning, he kicks off the covers and pads out of the bedroom, the plush carpet warm beneath his bare feet.

You’re sitting on the couch, slipping into a pair of flats. “What are you doing up so early?” He asks, his voice still husky from sleep.

You look up, startled. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” A soft smile plays on your lips. “I was going to watch the sunrise.”

Max rakes a hand through his tousled hair. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Because it’s beautiful.” Your eyes sparkle with an excitement he can’t comprehend this early in the morning. “The colors, the way the light slowly creeps over the horizon — it’s just magical.”

He snorts. “It happens every day. Nothing magical about it.”

Your face falls ever so slightly, and it tugs at something in his chest. But the feeling is fleeting, replaced by annoyance at having his sleep disturbed for something so trivial. “So you didn’t want to join me, then?” You ask, almost timidly.

“And wake up before the ass-crack of dawn? No thanks.” He flops onto the couch beside you with a huff. “I was up until 3 am sim racing. Not all of us find staring at the sky such riveting entertainment.”

You say nothing, simply nodding as you avert your gaze. The light in your eyes has dimmed, and he feels a pang of guilt. But he shakes it off — it’s far too early for this kind of whimsical nonsense.

“Suit yourself,” he mutters. “I’m going back to bed.”

He doesn’t see the way your shoulders droop as he turns and trudges back towards the bedroom. Doesn’t see the tears that prick at the corners of your eyes before you blink them away and readjust the set of your jaw with determination.

Max burrows under the covers, fully intent on drifting back into oblivion. But sleep evades him, his mind buzzing with a peculiar restlessness. He punches his pillow into a more suitable shape, flips it over to the cool side, but still he lies awake, listening to the silence that fills the suite.

After what feels like an eternity, curiosity gets the better of him. He kicks off the covers once more and pads over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city street below. Sure enough, there you are, a tiny figure perched on a bench across the way, your face tipped up towards the slowly lightening sky.

Max leans his forehead against the cool glass, watching as the inky blackness of night gives way to soft shades of periwinkle and lilac. Slowly, the colors deepen into blazing pinks and vibrant oranges that streak across the heavens. The sky ignites in a brilliant blaze of crimson and gold, the clouds set afire by the rising sun.

And there you sit, bathed in the dawn’s ethereal glow, utterly transfixed. In this light, your features seem softer, more at peace than he’s seen you in a long while. A smile plays on your lips, genuine and unguarded, as you take in the spectacle unfolding before you.

Max finds himself holding his breath, as if the slightest movement might shatter the magic of this moment. He’s never seen you look more beautiful, more alive than in these fleeting minutes as day breaks over the city.

A rare pang of tenderness blooms in his chest, quickly overshadowed by a creeping sense of unease. He isn’t certain how much time has passed before the brilliant hues fade into the pale blue of morning, but eventually you rise from the bench, taking one last, lingering look at the sky before turning and disappearing from view.

Max exhales slowly, his breath fogging up the glass. He isn’t proud of how he dismissed your simple joy, that spark of wonderment at the little things that he so often takes for granted.

An emptiness settles in the pit of his stomach, the guilt heavier than before. How many other moments has he trampled on in his relentless pursuit of success?

He thinks of your radiant smile, how it lit up the pre-dawn gloom more vibrantly than the sunrise itself. With a sigh, Max turns away from the window, already dreading the apology he knows he owes you.

Because in that single, breathtaking moment, he realizes just how lucky he is to have someone like you in his life. Someone who can find magic in the mundane, beauty in the simple things he’s become blind to along the way.

Someone, Max fears, who may be too sweet for him.

***

Max gives up on sleep around 4:30 am, as he has for the past several weeks. Insomnia has become his constant, unwanted companion, leaving him tossing and turning until the first hints of dawn creep through the curtains. On nights like this, slumber remains persistently out of reach no matter how exhausted he feels.

He lies in bed, staring at the ceiling as the brightening sky slowly illuminates the room. It wasn’t always this way — he used to be able to sleep like the dead after a race weekend, knocked out by the physical and mental exertion. But lately, his mind refuses to shut off, thoughts swirling endlessly until his head pounds.

With a groan, Max kicks off the tangled sheets and drags himself out of bed. Maybe going for a run will quiet the racket in his brain, at least for a little while. He dresses quickly, lacing up his trainers and grabbing his earbuds before heading out into the semi-darkness.

The pre-dawn streets are blissfully empty as he starts off at an easy jog. He despises becoming one of those obnoxious morning people, but exhaustion has a way of stripping away one’s self-respect. If pounding the pavement before the rest of the world awakes is what it takes to catch a few hours of sleep, so be it.

His route takes him along the harbor, the gentle lapping of the waves against the seawall providing a soothing soundtrack. The first rays of sunlight glint off the glassy surface, and he finds himself averting his gaze, oddly resentful of the impending sunrise.

It wasn’t so long ago that he scoffed at your eagerness to greet each new day. But ever since you’ve been gone from his life, those brilliant, fleeting moments of beauty have begun to mock him at every turn.

He picks up his pace, as if he can outrun the rising sun and the flood of memories it brings. But there’s no escaping the vivid flashes of you, smiling radiantly as the world awakes in a blaze of fiery hues. Or the hollow ache that twinges somewhere beneath his rib cage whenever he’s reminded of just how little he appreciated you.

So lost is he in his circling thoughts that he nearly runs right into you, appearing abruptly on the path ahead. His trainers skid against the pavement as he grinds to a halt, his heart stammering in his chest.

“Max?” You blink up at him, clearly startled by his sudden presence.

He opens his mouth, an automatic apology rising to his lips — until his eyes zero in on the camera clutched in your hands. Of course. Still chasing sunrises after all these years.

A wry grin tugs at the corner of your mouth as you take in his rumpled running attire. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Max says nothing, his gaze flickering briefly towards the brightening horizon before fixing on you once more. You look … well, radiant as ever, lit by the soft morning glow. A small pang of something — longing, maybe — twists in his gut.

“Out enjoying another sunrise, I see,” he says at last, nodding towards the camera.

You glance down at it fondly. “Well, you know how it is. I have to capture them while I can.” A teasing lilt edges into your voice. “Not all of us are night owls.”

He huffs out a humorless laugh. “I’ll never understand what’s so fascinating about watching the same thing happen day after day.”

“But that’s just it — each one is different. Unique and fleeting and … breathtaking.” Your eyes spark with that gentle wonderment he remembers so well, the sight sending a tremor through his chest. “Like getting a front row seat to the greatest show on Earth, but it’s one you’ll never see again.”

You trail off with a small shake of your head, seemingly at a loss to put the feeling into words. Max doesn’t need the explanation — he’s seen that look of childlike awe on your face more times than he can count.

An awkward silence stretches between you, laden with the weight of history and unspoken apologies. You shift your stance, mouth opening as if to say something more.

But Max cuts you off before you can get the words out, unable to bear whatever sentiments might cross those sweet lips of yours. “Toto not joining you this time?” He asks gruffly.

Your expression softens into a fond smile, and it’s like a physical blow to Max’s sternum. He knows that look, has been on the receiving end of it more times than he cares to remember. The way your entire being seems to brighten when you so much as think about someone you love.

“Ah, you know Toto — he’s more of a sunset person,” you say with a light laugh. “I’ve never been able to drag his grumpy butt out of bed for a sunrise.”

Even as his insides curdle with jealousy, Max can’t help the quirk of his lips at the mental image. He could all too easily picture Toto swatting irritably at you, burrowing deeper under the covers to escape the blasted sun.

“But we make it work,” you continue, that loving glow refusing to dim from your eyes. “I take photos of the sunrise to share with him later. And he does the same with the sunsets for me. That way, we both get to experience it in a way.”

The gentle sound of your voice washes over Max like a salve, momentarily easing the tangled knot of regret and longing that’s taken up permanent residence inside him. He watches, transfixed, as the early morning light bathes you in ethereal radiance.

In that moment, he sees it so clearly — the depth of give and take in your relationship with Toto. The effort, large and small, that you both put into nurturing one another’s happiness.

Even when your desires don’t perfectly align. Even when compromise is required.

It’s such a simple gesture, capturing those magical moments to share with your loved one. But it’s one Max was never willing to make when you were with him.

A lump forms in his throat as realization washes over him with unforgiving clarity. You weren’t too sweet for him, as he had so arrogantly assumed time and again. No — the truth, much harder to swallow, is that he was simply too sour for you.

Too selfish, too wrapped up in his own ambitions to make even the smallest concession. Too blind to recognize the magic in the simple things that brought you unbridled joy. Too bitter and jaded to embrace and nurture the beautiful nature that made you … well, you.

And now, after all his careless cruelties and wasted chances, he can only stand idly by and watch as someone else basks in the sweetness of your affection. As someone else goes out of their way, day after day, to put that blinding smile on your face and those stars in your eyes.

Something in Max’s chest cracks and crumbles at the injustice of it all. At the agonizing truth that he let the best thing in his life slip through his fingers, all because he couldn’t be bothered to change his sullen ways.

Because you were never too sweet for him … he was too sour for you.

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madwomansapologist · 9 days ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤ༘⋆ rizz? oh, you mean my autism?

★彡 synopsis: jjk boyfriends' ways of loving an autistic reader.

characters: satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami, choso kamo, toji fushiguro, hajime kashimo.

bella's note: my new year's resolution? to be way more self-indulgent!

.ᐟ.ᐟ KENTO 'QUIZ TIME' NANAMI

The first time it happened, Kento assumed you were way too focused on work to cook something before you were about to faint. The second time, maybe you were distracted. From then on, it was a pattern Kento couldn’t unsee.

Arms shaking as you cook. Changing the shower temperature when your skin is burning hot. Only washing your glasses when they are so dusty he could draw on them. Waking up on the middle of the night to use the bathroom.

You only listen to your needs when your body screams.

THIS PACKAGE INCLUDES: “Do you need a drink?” — “Have you eaten anything? That doesn’t count.” — “Want me to close the curtains?” — “Come clean your glasses with me. I could clean yours, but you would need to clean mine. That’s what I thought.” — “Did you pay your bills this month?” — “Have you watched that movie you told me about?” — “Are you going to bed or I’ll have to start undressing? Oh, so now you hear me?”

.ᐟ.ᐟ CHOSO 'ACCIDENTAL MIME' KAMO

Choso would’ve never noticed if you hadn’t got mad at him. Mocking you? of course he was not! That’s so mean, Choso would never do that to someone he loves.

You have this habit. Of repeating words or phrases others use. Choso thought it was sweet. It showed that you were paying attention to every conversation. He started doing the same for you to know that he was listening, too.

Choso would’ve never understood if it wasn’t for Yuji. Echolalia. You weren’t doing it on purpose. It was automatic. What he saw as a habit was something you have no control over. When Choso started doing the same, you thought it was his way of saying “stop that, you’re bothering me.”

Once Choso explained himself, it was your turn to think it was a sweet habit.

THIS PACKAGE INCLUDES: “Sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to.” — “Choso, you’re very beautiful. Wait.” — “Can you shut up? Sorry.” — “Do you want to go out? I would love to.” — “Fuck that. Hey, Yuji, don’t use those words.” — “Babe? Yes?”

.ᐟ.ᐟ SUGURO 'SOCIAL CLUES TRANSLATOR' GETO

People, most often than not, will say things without actually saying them. The first time the meaning behind someone’s word were completely lost once they reached your ears, Suguru thought it was amusing. But then he understood some think it’s only logical to blame you for not getting what they chose not to say.

Arguing with someone unwilling to change their ways is pointless. If they don’t want to communicate with others, so be it. Suguru would pity them for wasting their chance of knowing you, but he prefers when you spend your time with him.

In important events, Suguru will tell you what to expect. Out with friends, he may warn you about someone not being very happy. Oh, the countless times Suguru was the one to explain that “no, honey, they didn’t mean it literally.”

Suguru would rather not being called tutorial mascot by his partner, but if you’re happy… so be it.

THIS PACKAGE INCLUDES: “Hyperbole.” — “I think that was her polite way of spitting on his face. It gave me chills.” — “I also don’t know what he meant by that.” — “She’s definitely lying.” — “Not literally.” — “Shit. Satoru will ask me to give a speech. You will pretend to be sick? ... I love you.”

.ᐟ.ᐟ HAJIME 'TELL ME MORE' KASHIMO

Hajime WILL know about all your special interests. You have no say in this matter. He wants to know everything about you that there is to know. After all, what is love if not seeing the other and accepting them entirely?

He prefers to do it while he trains. Hajime will practice his techniques with your voice to sooth his muscles. Don’t matter what is on your mind, he wants to hear it all. A specific actress, some movie you saw, penguins? Lovely, keep going.

It's endearing the way you know so much about what you love. Makes Hajime want to ask you what you know about him. Just to check.

THIS PACKAGE INCLUDES: "No, no. Please, keep going." — "And that was created when?" — "Your voice is enchanting." — "How did you discovered that?" — "I think, when I was young, I read a book that mentioned this." — "Talk to me. I want to listen."

.ᐟ.ᐟ TOJI 'HUMAN FURNACE' FUSHIGURO

Toji knows how to read someone. It's useful. If he can understand their desires and fears, then he knows what to expect. When it comes to you, what surprises Toji is that he uses this skill to help instead of getting something for himself.

He learned to read you. To understand what your body tells without the need to hearing it from you. Toji understands when something makes you upset, mad, uncomfortable. Even when you're drowning on your emotions and nothing else makes sense: Toji knows you.

And what he learned is that, to silence your mind from all those confusing thoughts, something bigger against you can be distracting enough. To be more exact, to have Toji against you. On his lap, between his arms, beneath him on the couch.

THIS PACKAGE INCLUDES: "I'm warm? How sweet of you." — "Can you hear me now?" — "You feel like you can’t breath? I'll let you go when you get sure of that." — "How's your mind now? Too crowded?" — "Forget about them. Just look at me. That's right. It's you and me, nothing else matters."

.ᐟ.ᐟ SATORU 'DEFENSE ATTORNEY' GOJO

Has someone been harsh to you? A boss ignored your rights? A doctor diminished your requests and questions? You know who to call: Satoru Gojo, your beautiful, funny, interesting, inteligent, kind, considerate [50 adjectives later] boyfriend!

Satoru WILL fight anyone that tries to disrespect you. Don’t matter who, don’t matter why. He's ready to throw hands (or cursed energy, to specify). It can be your mom, he doesn’t care. No one messes with you.

But he also defends you in more pacific terms. He will give whole ass lessons to people that tried to argue with you. He will keep talking until they get it right. If someone tries to embarrass you, Satoru is embarrassing them. He doesn’t care about anyone. If they were able to make you uncomfortable, than they are able of dealing with some discomfort too.

THIS PACKAGE INCLUDES: "Well, actually..." — "I understand what you're saying. Completely. But you're wrong and I will tell why exactly why." — "Say that again." — "You must think you are so funny." — "You think so? Ok, sit down. I'll explain it all to you."

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multimilfs · 3 months ago

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Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader x Rio Vidal: The Prize

Summary: Agatha has been fighting to reclaim her prize from Rio for a long time.

AO3

Included: dark themes, lesbian drama & yearning, near-death experiences, smut; biting, orgasm denial, praise kink, degradation, s&m, blood, fingering, cunnilingus, use of pet names, begging

Words: 9.7k

Tag List: @multifandomfix @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @escapetodreamworld @white--lillies @imtrashinflames

1750

Glowing hands press over the seeping wound, magic swirling around them, diving inside. There’s no satisfaction of watching the flesh knit itself back together. Instead, your magic drifts right back out like smoke.

Oh Goddess.

“Do take your time.” Agatha snaps, voice strained, “I have absolutely no plans.”

Five types of poison are immune to tangible magic. You know antidotes for three. Staring hard at the wound, you look for the blackened edges consistent with Nightrot, finding the flesh as red and irritated as to be expected. Is it swelling or screaming that goes with Alewife’s Revenge? A glance up at her face finds it normal. Her lips are pursed.

Your hands shake, one hovering over the open wound in her middle, the other clutching your head. Remembering has never mattered more so why is your mind empty? Pieces of information slip through your fingers like sand. Dozens of cadavers, hundreds of hours of study; useless.

Unable to rely on your memory, you scramble across the floor for the dagger that’d flown from the wall. The little light coming from the boarded windows prompts the metal to glint. The edge of the blade is sticky with blood, beneath it a metallic sheen that can only be a witches poison. You hold it up to the slant of light to see the color.

“Are you out of your mind? Heal me!”

You drop the dagger the second the poison glints purple. You slap your hand over your mouth, panic beginning to course through your veins; the body’s own special brand of poison.

How are you going to tell her?

“I’m trying!” You snap, voice breaking.

It’s a cruel joke that the poison should be so well matched to the witch bearing its effects. You stare at the edge as it rocks from being dropped, your stomach turning when the color doesn’t change. If only you could be wrong this once.

Were you a lesser witch, you’d curl in a little ball and quail under the weight of your failures. The idea is seductive. Yet, you turn to Agatha where she lies, pale and sweating on the floorboards. The pallor of her skin makes you whimper.

“Agatha,” You start, your voice holding just enough, “it’s Saura’s Dread.”

Things click into place behind her eyes despite the glazed-over look to them. She fights to find a way out of this, but you know well that the reality cannot be avoided.

“Give it to me. You’re wrong.”

“I know poisons better than most.” You hand the dagger over anyway.

“That’s not saying much.”

The comment stings, but you let it slide off you. You cannot give into petty squabbles now. With so little time to find a solution, you have to focus.

She stares hard at the blade as if willing it to change.

“Brew the antidote.”

“I can’t.” You whisper.

There’s a flicker of something in her gaze that looks suspiciously like rage. Your own internal fire leaps to meet it; of all the emotions to look upon you with—rage? As if this is your fault? You’re not the one that dragged her into this old cabin, intent on sifting through the contents.

It’s not your fault. You know that as the truth. Yet, shame floods you.

“You’re a healer.” Agatha spits, “What good are you if you don’t know the antidote?”

“Someone didn’t let me stay with my coven long enough to learn it!”

“The next time someone tries to keep you from me, I’ll let them.”

The fire in your chest ebbs. An old argument at an inconvenient time. There will be no rough makeup sex following this argument, no unspoken apologies in Agatha’s kisses. All the time, all the bodies; they cannot be for nothing. They mean too much.

Fleetingly, you feel pity for your old coven. In their minds they had attempted to do the right thing. Keeping you from Agatha must have seemed reasonable. But you remember how many bodies they made, how pleased it made Her.

Saura’s Dread takes its victim within six hours. This, you know confidently. The demise is slow and painful, a poison intended for torture. You can’t stand to see Agatha in this kind of pain. You’re not ready for her to be just another body.

“I’m calling Her.” You say.

“No.” Agatha counters, “She’ll never let me live it down.”

“You won’t live down anything if you’re dead, Agatha.”

“I won’t die.”

She’s an idiot.

Magic flowing into your fingertips, you trace familiar symbols on the floor. They glow bright and then dim as they wait. Around your neck sits an old, jagged bone, tied by a thread; you use the end of said bone to split your palm and drip blood over the symbols.

Agatha’s mouth is moving, but you don’t listen. You mutter the incantation in latin under your breath. The words—old and comforting—curl your tongue in ways that you’ve only known between two pairs of legs. You end the incantation with the key that gets you around the waiting list; Her name, Her true name.

There’s a blinding flash of light and a puff of fog, but the symbols contain it. You catch the glint of white teeth.

“You rang?”

Rio smiles, clad in darkness and bone and that same beauty that always stops you in your tracks. Upon seeing her, you breathe easier.

“We need your help.”

“You wouldn’t have called so formally if it was quality time you wanted.” Amusement dances in her eyes.

She eyes the symbols on the floor. They no longer glow, but still they contain her. She scuffs a foot along them.

You smudge the symbols and the containment drops. Stepping over the magic as it sinks down into the earth, she catches you by the waist and devours you; lips and teeth and tongue dominating your own, leaving you helpless to do anything but give in. And you’re all too willing to do so.

When she pulls back, you’re breathless. Somewhere in the fray your lip has begun to bleed. Rio soothes her tongue over the wound and you feel it close.

“Hand.”

You offer the demanded appendage, palm up. She places a kiss in the center and licks the blood from her lips.

Rio turns her head to where Agatha has dragged herself to sit against the wall. The rise and fall of her chest is slow, but there. She glares at the two of you. You flush while Rio grins.

“Hi, sweetheart. You look like shit.” Rio says, delighted.

“A side effect.” Agatha grits out, “The same can’t be said for you.”

Rio tilts her head back and laughs. It’s deep and rich and fills you with thoughts that are not appropriate for this situation. The hand on your waist squeezes as if she knows. Then, she releases you.

She crosses to crouch before Agatha, devious smile shifting to something softer. One of her hands works through a lock of Agatha’s hair, brushing it out of her face.

“What did you get yourself into?”

Agatha’s eyes drop to Rio’s lips, but she stays silent.

“Saura’s Dread.” You choke out, shame winding itself tight inside you, “I don’t—I can’t brew the antidote.”

You should have done more to push off Agatha’s agenda; just so you would have finished your research. A few extra days wouldn’t have hurt. They would’ve infuriated Agatha—and Rio by extension—but then you would know the solution instead of watching her slowly wither away.

Rio doesn’t look away from Agatha, but you know the soothing tone is for you, “It’s okay.”

Something passes between the two that you miss. One moment, Rio holds Agatha’s face in her hand, while Agatha—hesitantly—leans into the contact. The next Rio is standing between the two of you, toying with her knife, all business.

You feel a chill pass through you at the unfamiliar territory; staring into Rio’s eyes and finding the affection buried away. It stings more than knowing how you’ve failed.

“You’re asking me for life in a bottle.” Rio says, grinning, “What do I get in return?”

Short of knowing that Rio would fix it should you ask, you find yourself shamefully bereft of anything with value. You search the space for anything to bargain with. Agatha’s eyes should be looking at you with knowing, but her gaze doesn’t leave Rio.

When Agatha tilts her head and grins, turning on the bedroom eyes, you pause.

“What you’ve wanted for years.” Agatha says, “Brew me a little potion and you can have her all to yourself.”

Rio’s brows shoot sky high. You tilt your head, then freeze. It’s you. Agatha’s bargaining you.

There should be a sweetness in knowing you’re the only thing of value she has to offer, yet the taste is sour on your tongue. The words feel like a punishment, a reprimand—and not the kind you’ve begged at her feet for. That awful part of you would rather Agatha die than ever willingly give you up and Rio eyes you as if she knows it. Does it please her to know how they’ve twisted you?

One mistake, you think bitterly, and Agatha throws in the towel. Despite all the near-death experiences you’ve endured at her side. Despite the years you’ve spent together. You never expected a punishment of this proportion.

You bite your tongue. At your sides, your fists clench and unclench. They glow with the anger you can’t keep hidden.

Pride rears its unhelpful head and you speak before you can stop to think, “My life for Agatha’s.”

Rio’s full attention is on you, then. Her eyes are bright.

You speak directly to her, “I’m bound to you and The Road until such time as Agatha traverses it to collect me.”

Had you not been so focused on Rio, you would have noticed Agatha flinch at your suggestion. Her wide, glassy eyes stare at you. You do not give her the satisfaction of your attention. If she is going to be cruel, so can you.

Your terms are a challenge; and Agatha doesn’t turn down a challenge.

Her devious, wicked mask clicks back into place. Rio’s expression is pensive. Despite the poison working through her system, Agatha almost looks as powerful as her best day.

“You’d let me steal her away, O Death?” Agatha teases.

The comment is salt in your open wound. You glare, wishing more than anything that you could wrap your hands around her pretty neck and squeeze. You want her not only to beg—but to apologize.

But Rio’s eyes haven’t left you for a second.

“Alright, sweetheart.” Rio says, “Your life, bound to mine, until Agatha comes to get you.”

In it you understand the desire you both share; to have Agatha, one way or another. You wonder if the desire for possession is your own or something you’ve learned from her.

From her pocket comes a small glass vial. She tosses it to Agatha, who only barely catches it. She cradles it like something precious.

“Drink up.” Rio orders.

Then Rio is there, arm around your waist, holding all your pieces together. You lean into her comfort as color returns to Agatha’s cheeks.

“Te veo.”

1754

“She waits for you.”

Agatha whips around, purple crackling at her fingertips. At the edge of the clearing, Rio leans her weight against a gnarled tree, eyeing the withered husks of once-witches in the grass with interest. She looks almost predatory.

“Does she?”

Rio nods, eyes shifting to Agatha, “Like a puppy. It’s almost pathetic.”

It is pathetic, is what she should say. Time and affection have curbed her tongue on this small thing at least. On you. Agatha’s smile is knowing.

Rio has pulled her punches toward you since the beginning. Agatha’s never minded. It’s almost sweet watching the oldest force in the multiverse tiptoe around a witch barely into her second century. Is it that craving for ancient knowledge in your veins that renders Rio down, or is it simply your pretty face?

Does it matter?

“I don’t have what I need yet.” Agatha rolls her eyes, “Witches these days don’t have the power they used to.”

“Or maybe you’re leveling the population before they have time to strengthen.” Rio raises a brow.

Agatha thinks, deliberately dramatic, then shrugs, “No, that’s not it.”

With a shake of her head, Rio steps out from the treeline, and closes the distance across the clearing. Agatha watches every step with dark eyes. The stench of death and magic sends a chill down Rio’s spine; there’s nothing more delicious than a life snuffed out.

The wind slows in the trees as if sensing her. Birds silence their sweet tunes. There is frantic rustling in the trees somewhere as creatures do all they can to get away.

Yet Agatha stands, waiting, and allows Death to pull her into her embrace.

One of Rio’s great loves is watching skin split so she can lap up the blood at her own pace. Yet, when her hands settle on Agatha’s hips, they’re gentle. She doesn’t open wounds with her teeth. Rather, she moves her lips over Agatha’s until she can’t breathe. Agatha is wary when she pulls back.

Rio shrugs, “A message from her.”

“I see. Forgiven me, has she?” A slow, taunting grin, “Anything from you?”

“Have you earned it?”

“These bodies didn’t make themselves.”

A tilt of her head, as if considering, “Maybe you’ve earned something small, then.”

And they meet in a clash of lips and teeth. Rio’s hands are everywhere, leaving behind deep claw marks that make Agatha moan into her mouth. Agatha’s own nails pierce through cloth and skin at her hips but draw no blood. She tries to push Rio backward toward one of the trees, she just needs a little leverage and Rio’s thigh to—

Rio pulls back. She grins something wicked at the flash of Agatha’s purple.

“Something small.”

Agatha makes a face, batting her lashes. Rio doesn’t give in.

“You’re awful.”

“You love it.” Rio says, then her face takes on something more serious, “Don’t keep her waiting, Agatha.”

Then she’s gone as if she was never there; the only evidence being the bleeding marks on her skin. Agatha stares at where she stood for a long time before moving on.

1801

The Road changes, you’ve seen, as the covens come along. Small cottages, ancient ruins—the most interesting was an old system of catacombs, though it lacked the remains you’d been intent on studying.

Your favorite, though, is the bower, absent of any illusions or spells.

Beneath a canopy of purple leaves upon a seat of grass, you watch the events unfold from afar. An old curved trunk sits at your back keeping you upright. The animals—lost familiars, mostly—wander up to you here, nibbling at fallen leaves and taking up residence in your lap.

From outside it could be mistaken for a simple tree. Yet, beneath it, the world is at your fingertips. The position of your place presents the underside of millions of glowing leaves to your view; lives, Rio said, witch and non-witch alike.

You find the one you love best among the foliage. You trace your finger down the purple veins, hoping she feels you, thinks of you, misses you. The veins seem to glow a little brighter at your touch.

Rio doesn’t enjoy you toying with them; worried a wrong move on your part will take a life too soon, upsetting the greater balance she’s beholden to. But she taught you how to handle Agatha’s. Trace, never prod. Caress, but never pluck.

A black cat settles in your lap and you sit straighter.

Soothing a hand down her back, she purrs. Her little body presses against your stomach and basks in your warmth.

“You really are too predictable.” Rio says.

She stands a few feet away, clad in dirt and muck, yet still beautiful. Always beautiful.

“I like it here. It’s comforting.”

“You like being close to Agatha.” She corrects.

The leaf in question glows brighter as if sensing the mention. You trace a finger along the edge, willing all your love into it.

“This is all I have of her.” You admit.

Something like softness creeps into Rio’s face. As soon as it appears, it recedes. She joins you under the canopy. The cat in your lap startles and leaps from your lap, darting back into the underbrush.

You had never thought to secure some token of Agatha’s, then. Now, with nothing of her’s to hold close, you settle for her life-line, begging it to tell you her whereabouts and if she’s safe; it is always silent. Rio is, too. She doesn’t mention much when you ask, though you know she knows the actions of every life tied to her.

The Road is a wonderful home. Rio is an attentive partner. But you ache, still, for the other set of hands you knew; those who were predictable in their firmness, balancing the sudden changes of Rio’s own.

“You’re crying.” Rio says.

Her face is dark, but fury lingers around the edges. Something like worry flutters in and out of her eyes. You have nothing to say, so you only nod.

Then you’re in her lap. Rio’s bunching up your dress to your waist, canines embedded in your neck. Her nails dig into your hips and the blood warms you. You whimper.

Lips kiss down your neck while a hand hovers between your legs. You bear down, desperate for any friction to dull the ache. And she gives it to you. Her hand is exactly where you want it, fingers rubbing and pressing, and you grind your hips hard, harder until you’re right there.

And then her hand is gone.

You whine. Your hips move of their own volition, searching for that pressure to send you right over the edge. Rio’s lips catch your own in a bruising kiss and you whimper into her mouth.

Needy, desperate, you can almost hear her say.

But when she pulls away and digs her nails in harder, she whispers, “Cry for me, sweetheart.”

She alternates between giving you what you crave and rescinding it for hours. You whimper, moan, and beg. She laughs and repeats herself—cry for me. You lose count of how many almost-orgasms tighten your body just to go unfulfilled. You do cry. You sob and she’s there, tongue licking up your tears and knuckle deep inside you, thumbing over your clit until you have what you want.

You’re not sure how long you lay there, after, crying against her.

1833

Rio’s arm is warm where you’re wrapped around it. She leads you through the winding stone streets, around grand buildings with stained-glass windows. Some of the scenes depicted in the glass are beautiful, simple; but the majority are Catholic in nature, dripping with sadness and guilt. You shake your head.

Passersby nod or tilt their hats, but don’t seem to see you. Their eyes go especially glassy when they look at Rio.

Whereas you’re clad in a dress of rich layered fabric, Rio has opted for more masculine attire. The low heels of her dress shoes click upon the stone. The unwrinkled fabric of her suit smells of smoke.

Your heels don’t quite agree with the stone. After the fifth time of a near-twisted ankle, you huff, “Could I not have worn flat shoes?”

“The heels compliment your legs.”

“You can’t even see them.”

“Yet.” She winks.

You roll your eyes, ignoring the heat suffusing your cheeks. Another nod to a passing couple and Rio makes a sharp turn. You’re led into a damp, dim alleyway.

The ground is made from rough slabs of uneven stone. You curse when your heel slips and only Rio’s strength keeps you standing. Water slides down the walls on either side, thick moss growing in the cracks. You reach out to feel it only for your hand to come away red.

If not for Rio pulling you along, you’d have screamed. Blood cascades down the walls. From it grow dark, twisted plants you’ve studied beside The Road. Beneath the plants and out of them come bones; most have yellowed with age, but there is the occasional bright-white specimen.

Surprise aside, you lean toward the bones with interest. Still, Rio presses on.

The alleyway is growing slimmer by the second. Should it continue to do so, you’ll be forced to walk behind Rio, and the thought makes you tense.

Rio squeezes your hand, “Relax, sweetheart.”

“I’d relax more if I knew what we were doing here.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Before you’re forced to walk single-file, you come to the end. Rio traces a counter-sigil upon the stone. With a shudder, a door is revealed. Above the silver knocker, embedded in the door, sits an unblinking eyeball. The blue pierces you.

Rio pulls and slams the knocker. The eyeball falls from the door and hits the ground with a sickening pop. You nearly shriek while Rio makes noises of delight.

“Ooh,” She chuckles, “we’re not the first to arrive.”

You try not to think about what the eye must look like now, “Can I go home?”

“Why so squeamish all of a sudden? You handle the cadavers I bring you just fine.”

“That’s different. That’s research.”

“Who says this isn’t, sweetheart?”

The door opens soundlessly. Inside, the scene is much the same; another dark, slim space, though notably absent of plants and body parts. The owner of this place must be allergic to candles, the lighting situation is just pathetic.

Rio waits. When you make no move to walk inside, she sighs, nudging you with a hand on your lower back, “Ladies first.”

You’re not sure if being first or last is the worst. If anything is to jump from the walls now, you’ll take the brunt of it; you’re reminded of that day with Agatha all those years ago. Rio’s warmth at your back offers the strength you need to continue. Though, you do cling to her hand the whole way.

The hallway empties into a full room. Dark shelves match the height of the walls, on them jars full of ingredients. There are tables boasting dozens of drawers, though none sit open. Glasses and tools and cauldrons line the tabletops. In the center of it all are two figures; well, one figure and one corpse.

You can’t catch your breath. She’s as beautiful as the day you lost her.

“Agatha.” You whisper.

Agatha turns and smirks. She doesn’t look nearly as surprised to see you as you do her. Upon seeing you, her expression softens, eyes full of affection and longing. It hardens a bit when she glances behind you.

“You ruined the surprise.” Rio says, arms crossed, though one motions to the corpse, “We needed her.”

“What could you possibly need with a poison witch?”

“Our darling healer wanted to study with her.”

Something like regret turns Agatha’s face when she regards you. With a wave, she produces a thick book full of yellowing pages. You tilt your head when she offers it to you.

“Her life’s work. I’m sure there’s more here somewhere.” Agatha shrugs.

You take it and hold it to your chest reverently. All this time you thought Rio was putting you off about finding a competent poison witch and yet here you are, standing in her apothecary. She lies dead on the floor but you couldn’t care less when the real gift stands before you.

You long for her. You ache to feel the gentle caress of her hands on your face, the threat of her nails on your scalp.

A look at Rio tells you she isn’t entirely pleased with the turn of events. Yet when she sees your excitement some of her ire dissipates. The yearning in your eyes must be plain, since she gives you a single nod.

Book of poisons tossed onto the tabletop, you throw yourself into Agatha’s arms. She’s as steady as you remember. Her hand grips your chin and forces your lips to hers. Her hands are predictably firm wherever they land. She grips you as if afraid you’ll slip away. But her kiss, oh gods her kiss; soft lips and taunting, sharp tongue. The length of her body pressed against your own and so warm.

There are hands in your hair and this is all you’ve wanted—all you’ve craved for years. Why, then, do you feel the urge to cry? To rip the heart from your chest and banish it to where it won’t hurt?

Agatha is warm and steady. You bury your face in her neck and her in yours. Your hands shake with the force of clinging to her.

The feeling is bliss. Yet, it isn’t complete.

You glance over Agatha’s shoulder to Rio. She stands in the doorway, watching the scene with dark-eyed interest; but there’s a weariness in the set of her shoulders.

“Beloved.” You call, holding one of your hands out to her.

Rio raises a brow. Her eyes don’t stray from your outstretched hand.

“This is your gift, sweetheart.”

“And it’s incomplete without you.”

Her eyes stray to Agatha, who has taken to watching her, too. This time, Agatha’s eyes don’t harden. They maintain that soft look you melt for.

Agatha extends her own hand alongside yours.

“Come on.” Agatha urges, soft.

You watch the resolve break moments before she wedges her way into your embrace. Her fingers lace through yours, but her face is pressed into Agatha’s neck. She pushes and nuzzles like she wants to become part of her. It reminds you of the cat that visits the bower—Ebony—but you don’t dare say so.

Agatha’s hands leave you to caress Rio’s face. A thumb rubs along her cheekbone. You press yourself against Rio’s back, unable to glimpse her face but sure of the longing in her expression.

In a perfect world, there would be no separation between the three of you. No clothes, no emotional barriers, not even flesh to keep your hearts from mingling into one. You settle for Rio’s hand in your own and Agatha’s blue eyes locked on you.

You lean over Rio’s shoulder and kiss Agatha, your free hand fumbling with getting into the former’s pants. She chuckles darkly in your ear. It ignites a spark in your chest; a dangerous longing for this to remain, to be always. You try to push it away and focus on how Rio moans in your ear instead.

1869

“Will you walk with me?”

Rio nods, smiles grandly, “Of course.”

You laugh. She holds out her arm, ever the picture of a gentleman, but you lace your fingers through hers instead.

As a rare treat, you lead. You pull her along the road. The leaves change beneath your feet, from silver and black to the hues of autumn and then to pure green. The Road opens its arms into a clearing bathed in the color. Only the stone building in the center stands apart.

Upon your approach, flowers grow in the flattened grass where you step; honeysuckle and heliotrope, baby’s breath and red chrysanthemum. Rio glances over her shoulder as the blooms spring forth.

Ivy grows up the walls of the building. You brush a gentle hand over the leaves.

Crumbling, worn headstones en masse wait behind the building.

Rio tilts her head, “What is this?”

The door is unlocked. You knew it would be. The Road cannot keep you from this place.

Inside is warm and hazy. Papers with elegant scrawl cover every surface, books half-open litter any free spaces. Shelves line the walls, jars bearing various specimens. Plush couches overflow with deep, red cushions, begging you to sit and stay. A fire cracks in the fireplace.

Rio turns this way and that. She wanders around the room, flipping through books. A fingernail taps against a jar full of eyes. An errant paper is plucked from where it sits haphazardly atop the mantle. She stops.

You know the paper the second she comes into contact with it; can remember the way you wax poetic about how beautiful she is, how safe you feel in her arms. She picks another, then another, so on, and you know every word the second she touches them; the way she unwinds in Agatha’s arms, her face twisted in perfect fury, the lightless turn of her eyes when she teeters on the edge of wickedness.

She looks at you, vulnerable and unsure, “What is this?”

“My heart.”

“That… then why is all of this here?”

Her hand shakes the papers for emphasis. You resist the urge to laugh, lest she think you’re making light of her. Death can be cruel, but you try not to be.

You step close. Gently, the papers are extracted and returned to their places. Rio stares and hardly breathes as you take your face in her hands.

“You pulled away after that night.” You whisper, finger tracing her cupids-bow, “Do you think I touch you only because it is convenient?”

Rio’s lip curls. Fists bunch at her side, crackling with green light. You feel the rumble of her anger working through her chest. She tries to pull from your hold, but you don’t let her.

“Do you think I kiss you and pretend it’s her?”

Rio snarls, “I will kill you if you don’t stop talking.”

You smile. The threat is a real one, but you don’t fear it; the outcome is remaining by her side. With one hand you reach and pull one of her fists between you. You unravel it, trying not to flinch against the bursts of power over her skin. You press the palm of her hand over where your heart resides inside your chest.

The snarl fades just so. Fury still lingers in her eyes. You press your hand over hers and will her to see, to know.

“Look at the walls.” You order.

Upon the walls, plain and dark, shimmering scrawl appears. Agatha Harkness, it reads in shaky lettering; like a name carved into a tree. One signature turns into ten and ten into countless. Purple and shimmering is Agatha’s brand upon you. Rio yanks and reaches for the dagger she keeps handy.

Rio’s true name appears in shimmering green letters, then. Same as Agatha’s, there are countless signatures. They conjoin and overlap until the walls of your heart look like nothing more than a child’s colorful scribbles.

She stares at the walls in disbelief. The knife in her hand clatters to the ground.

“I’ve carved your names upon my heart so I’ll never forget who it belongs to.” You whisper.

“Sweetheart…”

You bend and collect her blade, pressing it into her hand, “Now do it yourself.”

Her hand wraps around the handle reflexively. Rio’s hand doesn’t leave the spot over your heart, feeling the steady, truthful beat.

“It’ll hurt you.” Rio says. She doesn’t bother hiding the desire in her voice.

You urge, “Make me hurt.”

Each artful stroke of her blade is slow. You whimper, but grip her wrist and push the blade deeper into your flesh. She scoffs when tears flood your eyes. The tears run down your cheeks while you smile, filled with bliss and ache in equal measure.

It’s a gift to love so deeply it wounds you. You never want her to stop; who, aside from your shared scar, holds such power? Who else in the world could touch your heart truly enough to carve into it?

There’s delight in her every movement. She consumes the pain of millions and yet, none of it is of her own making. She can only relish in what others have done; torture for a being who remains eternally intimate with the greatest methods of drawing out agony. Death has no free will but that you offer her—and she takes what none else would give, ravenously.

Is it enough?

Not forever, something tells you, you think it might be her, but for now.

1925

“You called?” Rio asks.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re avoiding me.”

Agatha leans against the wall beside a small window. The pane has been slid upward, letting in the sounds of the city below, releasing the smoke of Agatha’s cigarette into the air outside.

The cigarette is clutched in gloved hands. Her expression is amused as she draws in and releases the smoke, watching it form the shapes she wills. Though it has no effect on such a witch, Rio admires the object’s capability of bringing Agatha infinitesimally closer to her.

“We’ve been busy.”

“Busy or not, I’d say twelve bodies earns me a visit. And with the bulk of good booze I just removed from the market, I’d say I’ve earned a little more.”

An obvious lure with paltry bait, still Rio bites, “What do you have in mind?”

“Let me see her.”

She should. You’ve come to accept Agatha’s absence in your life, but she sees how much time you spend in the bower, and how you flinch when her name comes up. Rio hadn’t expected the frequency of Agatha’s name on the lips of covens walking the road to be so overwhelming, but it always drives you right into her arms; that she will relish.

But Death is not giving. She takes. Taking is, in fact, her favorite hobby. Twelve bodies is not enough to make up for the haunted look in your eyes. She wants more—will have it. Agatha has to earn you.

“I’ll need a little more from you.” Rio drawls.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to kill that many witches here with the nightlife?” Agatha throws her hands up. Ash flies from the forgotten cigarette.

The sounds of Chicago seem to grow louder, as if to aid her point. Rio grins. She crosses the small space and takes the cigarette, snuffing it out on the back of Agatha’s hand. The action prompts a quiet moan.

“It shouldn’t be a problem. What I want, you have an abundance of.” Rio’s smile widens as she manipulates Agatha’s hand, removing the glove, pushing and prodding until purple flashes along the flesh.

A cooling breeze sneaks in the window and rustles the fringe along Agatha’s dress. It’s a beautiful thing, short and decadent. Rio knows you’ve enjoyed the few sightings of the period fashion you’ve glimpsed, but like her, you’d enjoy this specific dress in a pile on the floor.

Agatha’s eyes stare at where Rio’s flesh meets her own. Her eyes are contemplative, calculating. She hesitates. And that is her fatal mistake.

Rio throws her across the room with a shove. Agatha’s side hits one of the walls and she falls, face-first, onto the mattress she’s been sleeping on. The springs shriek at the sudden weight. Agatha snarls, throwing out a blast of purple that slams into Rio’s chest. Rio moans something filthy.

There’s a brief struggle where Rio does her best to keep Agatha pinned; to the bed, to the wall, wherever there’s a surface. Yet Agatha is slippery. Her magic whisks her right out of the hold Rio puts her in and wherever Agatha wills it; which currently, is behind the other witch so Agatha can kick the back of her knees. Rio kneels not of her own volition.

She braces to stand, only to find the blade of her own dagger at her throat.

Rio’s gaze has lost any warmth. Her affection is buried deep, beneath layers and layers of earth she craves to bury Agatha in right this second, “You’re breaking her heart.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem, you like seeing her cry.”

“When I’m the one responsible.”

Agatha rolls her eyes. She maintains a carefully ambivalent expression. Rio knows better; knows, under all that forced emotion, that Agatha’s heart is waging against her head, warring over her selfish desire to keep every bit of power.

Then, something shifts. Rio feels it. Agatha has made her choice and it isn’t you. And it ignites a rage in her chest unlike anything she’s felt in centuries.

She snatches the dagger back from Agatha’s grasp and only just barely resists the urge to bury it in her chest. If she has to drag Agatha back to you kicking and screaming, she will. You would like that, wouldn’t you?

“I’ll kill you.” Rio vows, and means it. Agatha can’t run away from the two of you if her soul is Rio’s to keep.

Agatha’s eyes flash with fear. Then, she grins around it, “If you can catch me.”

Latin words roll off Agatha’s tongue faster than Rio can comprehend. She recognizes the words and what they mean, where they’ve come from. Rio reaches out with her magic for the Darkhold too late; it, and Agatha, have completely vanished from her awareness.

When she returns to The Road and finds you pacing before the bower, she stops short.

“Did you—is she dead?” You ask, worrying your lip. Though your eyes dart every which way, looking for whatever manifestation of Agatha you believe she’s brought you.

“Sweetheart…”

1937

“Do you think if I cut you open you would heal too fast for me to do any research?”

Rio tilts her head, considering. She’s sprawled out on the plush couch inside the physical manifestation of your heart, toying with her knife, having a staring contest with the unblinking jar of eyes while you jot down thoughts into notebook number… well, she’s lost count.

“Probably.” She answers, “I’m also not sure I have organs.”

You pause, “How is that even possible?”

“Magic, sweetheart.”

Leaning back, your mind begins to race; given how old she is, it would only make sense that the organs the body came with are gone, rotted away—but would the flesh not go with it? You massage your temples. Life magic is no easier to understand than Death magic.

There’s only one way to test your hypothesis. You stand from your place at the table and cross to her, straddling her hips where she lay on the couch.

“I want to see.” You say, holding out a hand.

Rio hands over her dagger and sinks further into the couch, as if that is possible. She grins up at you with no shortage of delight. You do your best to tamp down on your own grin.

The flesh beneath your hands is warm and smells of damp earth where you peel away her shirt. Her eyes darken with every inch of flesh revealed to you. Firm and unafraid, you press the tip of the dagger down against her sternum. The action earns you an exaggerated moan.

You rip the dagger away, glaring, “Behave.”

“Or what?” Rio taunts, tongue pressing against the inside of her cheek.

“Or I stop letting you watch my dissections.”

She tenses, “You wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t I, beloved?”

“Get on with it.”

You lean down and steal a quick kiss. It melts away the darling little pout on her lips.

When you press the dagger back down, the flesh bends, but doesn’t open. You tilt your head and press harder. Rio watches, unphased. There is absolutely no give to her flesh. It gets to a point where you’re pressing your entire body weight behind the dagger, but Rio only laughs, squirming as if the action tickles.

You whine and sigh. The dagger is dropped unceremoniously onto her chest while you lean an elbow against the back of the couch, sinking somewhat into the cushion.

“If you want live specimens, we can collect some.” She soothes.

The idea isn’t intolerable, but you shake your head.

“They scream too much.”

“Anesthetic exists, sweetheart.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

You look away, tracing the walls and their offerings with your eyes. Upon them hang paintings of your own making; scenes of life, death, love, fear—mostly fear.

The human condition fascinates you, always has. Of the emotions to study, fear is the hardest; it is always fleeting in your wake; your face is too kind, too trustworthy, wiping away any sense of the unease you seek to study. You stare at your paintings and feel only distaste, knowing they’re not quite right.

You can’t claim to have always had such taste. No, a cultivation for the finer flavors of life and death takes time. You can pinpoint where the itch started, however; that day in your childhood village when a dying soul reached out to you—scarcely were you a day older than four—and found no assistance.

How beautiful it was; grisly, messy, but beautiful. You did not flinch away. Rather, you found yourself drawn in, eager to see more. And being of a coven of healers, your desire was fulfilled. Death was yours before you knew her name.

Looking down at her, she stares back, unashamed to be caught. The heart in your chest—which has felt so stagnant in recent years—warms toward something almost pure.

Rio will one day claim your soul. This, you know, and accept; your soul belonged to her the second you watched that woman die. You fear the when. What becomes of you when she claims your soul? What if you have yet to conduct all the research you desire? There is so much still to learn and you know she’ll abandon it for the chance to keep you.

You love her, but you’ll never forgive her the knowledge you’ll one day lose. The warmth in your chest doesn’t ebb.

Her top is still splayed open from your attempt at dissection. A healthy amount of flesh is bared to your eyes. You trace one finger from her neck to the center of her chest and tap, just above where a heart should be.

“When you come for me,” You say, ��I want to hold your heart in my hand.”

“You already do.” She utters.

“Will you let me study it, then, when I’m but a soul?”

“You can study whatever you wish as long as it leads to me.”

1989

Agatha dwells on mistakes, often. She just doesn’t allow them to distract from her purpose. She is ruthless, to her very core.

She spends an embarrassing amount of time trying to open the damned door to The Road. One coven after another, all failures. There is an obscene beauty in claiming a reward for what would otherwise be failure on her part.

Time passes, enemies made, promises broken. She shrugs them all off. Yet she can’t shake the feeling of your hands in her hair, on her face. The lingering whisper of your kisses haunts her. The Darkhold whispers to her, oftentimes in language she shouldn’t comprehend, and it offers her the solution, should she just be patient;

The Scarlet Witch

2026

The power that floats before you is biting and all too familiar.

It fights against your hold, twisting and writhing like a wild animal, desperate to return to its mistress. But you’re stronger for now. The Scarlet Witch threw this power into the ether in her attempt at playing Death, and now it is yours to hold until Agatha comes for it.

Anger rubs against the heart in your chest like a cat. You lean into it, feeling your own power respond to subdue that which isn’t yours.

Rio watches beside you. She runs her fingers through the purple electricity contained in your palms, laughing when it fights her. Lips press against your temple.

“Not long now.” She assures you.

You feel longing and fury in equal measure.

“I want her soul, Rio.” You whisper.

A small chuckle, low beside your ear. It sends shivers down your spine. Her hand grasps your chin and turns you to face her, her lips meeting your own. The kiss is soft. You melt into it.

She pulls back, tone careful, “You didn’t walk The Road, sweetheart.”

You have not earned what The Road promises to grant.

2026

Agatha doesn’t expect the end of The Road to look like Agnes’ Westview home, nor does she expect to see Rio perched on the roof, leaning back, as if waiting. But every step closer to the front yard makes her more furious.

She is owed her prize.

Upon her first step in Agnes’ yard, the front door opens, and she is blasted with something so strong that it knocks her back to The Road, on her back. She groans. Yet, she feels more alive than she has in centuries. Her body shudders with its missing piece; her power curling up in her veins, pleased to be home.

She sits up, wincing at the ache in her bones that continues despite the gift she’s received. Leaves stick to the back of her arms, little pieces having crunched beneath her weight and adhered to her skin. She does her best to brush them away while getting to her feet.

Rio remains on the roof, grinning.

There, on the porch of Agnes’ house, is you. All the glory of you.

Agatha’s heart leaps in her chest despite the scowl on your face. To her, you haven’t aged a day; still the young, fresh-faced witch following at her heels, dizzy on knowledge and the thrumming power inside. Time has not erased the love she has—so great it threatens to bring her to her knees.

“Dearest…” Agatha murmurs, taking a half-step forward.

“You have your prize.” You sneer.

Your heart aches, begging you to go to her; hasn’t it been centuries? But your pride holds you back. She left you here while she gallivanted around the world getting what she wanted.

There’s a brief flash of hurt on Agatha’s face, before it morphs into a wicked grin. Her posture changes, too, to something more proud, as she slinks across the yard toward the porch. You resist the urge to take a step back.

“No, I don’t.” She drawls, “Are you going to be a good pet and come home willingly, or do I have to put you on a leash?”

Something inside you burns for her. You ache for her touch, for her to force you to do what she wants. It creeps through the cracks of your pride and turns it into something else. You stick out your chin. Agatha snickers.

Magic pulses in your palms, pulling various items from around you to throw—not fast enough. Agatha has you kneeling with your hands bound in a blink.

“That’s not very nice, dear. And after all I’ve done to get here.”

You regain some of your fight, snarling, “You left me here.”

Agatha hums.

“Into the deal you stumbled your way into. I’m not the one who tied herself to The Road in a fit of pride.”

“You were leaving me regardless. If I was going to be handed off, I was going to do it on my own terms.”

“Did I specify a length of time in my proposal? Was there any explicit mention of how long She could have you before I came back?” Agatha asks, mean-spirited joy in her eyes upon watching the realization dawn in your own. All that time you spent agonizing… when you had shackled yourself, “Years lost because you wanted to be a self-righteous brat.”

There’s a lilt to her voice that clues you in to everything you’d once seen instinctually; Agatha has been in just as much anguish as you have, left to walk the world alone. You see the pain in her eyes. Just like then, you try to get to her now, eager to fix it, to wipe it away.

The binding around your arms keeps you stationary. You whine and pull against it.

“Agatha,” You whine, “I’m sorry.”

“You will be.” She says. Then she turns to your left, finger poised and accusing, “And you—you kept her away from me.”

Rio shrugs, smiling, “I couldn’t just make it easy on you.”

Agatha waves a hand and Rio is kneeling on the porch at your side, similarly bound. Yet where you look pained, she is delighted.

“I’m sorry.” You repeat, “I didn’t mean to be bad.”

“That doesn’t change that you were.”

A cloud of purple smoke announces your arrival to the inner bedroom of Agnes’ house. It doesn’t look like what you’ve seen from Rio, though. Where Agnes had been bland and cookie-cutter, this is rich fabrics and deep wood. It is Agatha through and through.

You and Rio kneel side-by-side at the foot of the bed, where Agatha perches. Her beautiful blue eyes don’t miss the slightest movement you make. She’s clad in a dark robe with snakes and flowers that has Rio leaning forward in interest.

Agatha’s eyes lock on you, “You’re going to apologize. Properly.”

“I’m sorry—”

“With your tongue.”

Leaning back on her forearms, Agatha spreads her legs, and you feel the desire in your body rush through you. It’s so strong you feel your head begin to pound. She’s pink and dripping and all you want is to do a good job for her.

Yet, ever the brat, you lean forward and start with kissing her inner thighs. With every press of your lips to the delicate flesh you murmur an apology. She sighs.

A hand weaves into your hair and yanks you back. Her eyes are dark. Her face is set in a punishing expression but you see the yearning in her that matches your own. She yanks again, lighter, and you moan.

“What did I say?” She asks, before directing you where she wants you.

Witches don’t subscribe to the idea of what a human would call heaven, but upon tasting her, you think you could get behind it. She’s warm and sweet. You flatten your tongue and drag it along her slit just to collect a better taste of her. Agatha’s hand presses you in harder as she moans.

Without the use of your fingers, you have to use your tongue well. You stiffen it as much as you’re able when you delve inside her and hope it is even slightly close enough to satisfy. The pathetic sounds reaching your ears—breathy moans, sweet whimpers—tell you that you’re doing fine.

“Good girl.” Agatha breathes out.

You clench around nothing. You’re sure that you’ve ruined your undergarments thoroughly from how wet you are.

Eager for more praise, you direct your attention to that small, fleshy bundle of nerves begging for your attention. You swirl your tongue around her clit and her hips stutter, before they grind against your face with a renewed sense of purpose. You smile.

“Yes—there, more—” Agatha stutters.

You were born to do as she commands. All you want is to make her happy. Following her directions is as easy as breathing.

The tip of your tongue alternates between circling her clit and flicking it. Every flick earns you a high-pitched oh! and a firm grinding of her hips. Her thighs are tightening around your head, but she’s putting up a good fight. Her legs quiver.

“There—there—I’m going to—” Is all the warning you’re given before Agatha shrieks and comes while rutting against your mouth. You lap up every drop of her wetness you can get with glee. You did this, you brought her this pleasure; the knowledge sends a happy jolt through you.

Agatha’s grip on your hair releases and you lean back, taking in big lungfuls of air. She stares down at you with a thoroughly fucked-out expression that makes you preen.

Then she leans over and pulls your lips to hers. She moans against the taste of herself on your lips, tongue collecting the flavor from your lips. You throw every ounce of love you possess into the kiss—willing her to understand the longing you felt, the thousands of hours you spent watching her lifeline just to make sure she was safe.

“Good girl.” Agatha murmurs, pressing little kisses all over your face, “My good girl.”

“All yours.” You agree.

She laughs, low and smooth, “That’s not quite the truth, is it?”

The two of you turn to regard Rio in unison. She remains in the position Agatha left her in, kneeling and bound. You admire her restraint at not breaking the bindings. Though you guess Agatha wouldn’t take kindly to that.

Rio’s eyes are black with desire. They dart between the two of you. She takes in the wetness on your face, licking her lips. You can feel her eagerness for a taste.

She’s writhing a bit in her restraints, pressing her thighs together and wiggling, looking for any source of friction she can find. Agatha tuts and she stops. If it were up to you, your face would be between her thighs, ears enjoying every sound she makes. But it isn’t up to you.

Agatha scoots back up the bed until she’s sitting against the headboard. That’s when you feel the restraints on you fall away. She beckons the two of you with a finger and you both follow the command, eager.

“Come here.” Agatha urges you specifically, patting her bare thigh.

You obey and straddle the appendage, shuddering against the feeling against your throbbing clit. There’s a split second where you think of just grinding down and taking what you want. But you don’t—you have to be good.

Words pass between Agatha and Rio during your silent struggle. When you look, she’s lying along the length of the bed, legs bunched up and spread wide next to you.

“What am I going to do with you both?” Agatha muses.

“Fuck us?” Rio drawls.

“You, my good girl,” Agatha says, ignoring Rio as she soothes a hand through your hair, “are going to use me until you come. And my bad girl isn’t going to come until I tell her she can.”

You shudder, whimpering, while Rio whines next to you. Agatha kisses your forehead while dealing a slap to Rio that makes her groan.

A hand settles onto your hip and begins to guide you through the motions of grinding against her. The friction is difficult to attain with how wet you are, but you do what you can, crying out everytime the pressure is just enough to make your toes curl. It won’t take long for you to finish.

Your face is buried in Agatha’s neck, where you press loving little kisses to the flesh. As a result you cannot see Rio. But you hear her; every movement of Agatha’s deft fingers through her wetness, every growl and keen of desire, every slap of Agatha’s hand when she gets a bit too eager. She won’t last long either, from what you can tell.

The image of Rio and Agatha in your mind is enough to push you toward that delightful little taste of death. Your hands tighten over Agatha’s shoulders.

“Agatha, can I—please?” You plead.

“So obedient, asking for permission even when you don’t need to.” Agatha praises, “Go on, darling.”

With her hand guiding you and her voice in your ear, you come so hard you see stars behind your eyes. You’re not sure what sound leaves your lips, only that your throat aches afterward.

You tune back in to hear a brutal slap of flesh on flesh. Rio snarls.

“Beg.” Agatha’s voice commands in your ear, though you know it isn’t for you.

Rio stays stubbornly silent.

The sounds of Agatha toying with her come to an abrupt halt. You don’t have the strength to lift your face from your refuge, but you can imagine that stubborn, yet pleading look in Rio’s face; wanting so deeply but not willing to give up what is required.

“If you don’t want to behave, she can have your pleasure instead.”

“No! I’ll—” You hear Rio grit her teeth, “Please, Agatha. Please let me come.”

Agatha laughs.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” She coos.

Seconds—or maybe minutes—before Rio wails. There’s something primordial and animalistic wrapped inside it, almost like a growl. It makes you shudder. Then all that's left in the room is the sound of breathing.

You spent so long aching for something just like this. It’s beautiful, though you know it can’t stay; all three of you are far too ambitious to live a domestic existence, but it’s nice for now. You missed them. The heart in your chest feels complete again, filling to the brim with affection.

Tears seep from your eyes and you pull back before Agatha can question it, though you do feel her stiffen. You press kisses to her neck, her sternum, the inside of her wrist; then you grab Rio’s hand and press kisses to every pad of her fingers.

With every kiss, you murmur I love you.

2027

“If you don’t sedate him at least a little bit, his heart is going to give out.”

Rio’s sudden voice next to you isn’t surprising. You’ve grown used to her coming and going—Death waits for no one, after all. Her lips press to your cheek and you accept the affection.

“She did sedate him. Three times.” Agatha’s voice calls from the next room.

“Oh, I see.”

Rio leans over to examine the man on your table with no shortage of interest. He stares back, eyes impossibly wide. His heart rate picks up.

“What is he?” She asks.

“Not sure. Rapid regeneration, odd capabilities. Mutant, maybe?”

“He’s certainly not a witch.” Agatha’s leaning against the doorway now, arms folded over her chest, “Though it is taking a fair amount of magic to keep him subdued.”

“He’s no match for you, naturally.” You compliment.

Both Agatha and Rio grin at that. The former comes up behind you, hands settling on your hips. Her lips press against your neck. Then, she leans over and steals a kiss from Rio, who is all too eager to meet her halfway.

You smile. The heart in your chest threatens to burst—not unlike the specimen in front of you.

“Well, aren’t you sweet today.” Agatha comments.

“Aiming for a reward?” Rio asks.

Rio kisses her way up the flash of skin available to her eyes, making you sigh, leaning back into Agatha’s hands. Then Agatha’s lips fasten to the other side of your neck. Your head falls back and you laugh. Then you moan.

The experiment on your table is forgotten as you’re dragged into the next room and bent into all sorts of shapes you couldn’t even imagine on your own. Oh, well; if he dies before the six hour mark, you can always just find another one. The same cannot be said of the witches bracketing you. And oh, how beautiful that is.

#agatha harkness x reader #rio vidal x reader #agathario #agathario x reader #agatha all along #agatha harkness #rio vidal #agatha harkness x reader x rio vidal #agatha all along x reader #agatha all along fanfiction #wlw #wlw fanfiction #oct2024 #multimilfswritings

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lavandulawrites · 6 months ago

Note

Hello! I found your writings about yan!Dottore & I am a brand new fan!! You are such an awesome writer 😁

Since requests are open, I was wondering if you could write some headcanons/drabbles about how the Genshin men (including Dottore my fave) would react if their darling, who was pregnant with their child, tried to run away? Saying "I refuse to raise my child with a monster like you!"

Yandere Genshin Men With a Pregnant Runaway Darling

Yandere Ayato, Dottore, Lyney, Neuvillette, Wriothesley x female reader (separate)

Thank you!<3 I only wrote for five of them, but I’m thinking of writing for more of them in some other parts:) (Let me know if anyone wanna be apart of my taglist).

Masterlist

Warnings: imprisonment, manipulation

Word count: 2819

Ayato

You ran and ran as fast as your feet could carry you. You needed to get to safety. Both for yourself and for your unborn child. Your bare feet were drumming over the wooden floors.

The Kamisato estate was like maze. The long hallways seemed never ending.

When you finally reached the door that led out to one of the gardens, you were filled with relief. You slid the door open and was welcomed by the heavenly sea breeze. Your joy, was however short lived.

Standing in the garden admiring the purple sunset was Ayato. He turned around and smiled gently. He motioned for you to join him and before you knew it, your feet had brought you by his side.

“The sky is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” his eyes turned upward towards the endless sky.

You followed his gaze. The sky was in fact extremely beautiful. The purple colour the same shade as Ayato’s eyes.

The man besides you was cunning and as cruel as a snake, but he was undoubtedly the most beautiful man you had ever laid your eyes on. His dark lashes fluttered as his gaze shifted to you. He remained silent for a while, just taking in the sight of you. He often did just that and it made you nervous, since you could never be completely sure as to what exactly ran through his brilliant mind.

“I’m glad you fell for my little trap. If you hadn’t, I would have to enjoy this sunset all alone. Sunsets are best enjoyed by the side of someone you love, wouldn’t you agree?” his melodic voice coiled around your mind. Enveloping you in a sense of serenity.

You quickly snapped out of it. “I want to leave” your voice low, but your words clear as day.

Ayato hummed at your words “Why is that?”

“Because I’m more like a prisoner than your wife” you snapped.

“A prisoner? What gave you that idea?” he raised a brow.

“Don’t play stupid Ayato” you sneered. “You’re not letting me leave no matter what. Doesn’t that sound awfully a lot like a prison to you?”

“I’m protecting you and at the same time I’m keeping what’s mine far away from prying eyes. I’m doing you a favour” his smirk completely gone and replaced by a cold glare.

“I refuse to raise my child with a monster like you!” you screamed, not caring about who could hear you.

“Don’t think I’ll ever let you leave me. When you said yes to my proposal, you sealed your faith. It’s not my fault you were unable to think about what the future involved” he smirked at your scared expression. “Don’t cry, I mean you no harm. That much should be obvious.”

Dottore

The dining room was decorated in an attempt at making it cozy. The grand chandelier that hung over the dining table casted a warm light over the table, almost making it homely. The plate in front of you was barely touched. You were hungry, but you didn’t have the time to finish your meal.

You glanced up at the butler who was standing by the door. His eyes was glued to a spot on the far wall and his posture was rigid.

Your cleaned your mouth with the napkin before your rose from your seat. “I’m finished with my meal. Please tell Dottore when he returns to come to my chambers” you told the maid as she silently cleaned up the dishes.

She bowed “Yes madam.”

Your heels clicked against the polished wooden floors. You had to quickly change into different shows and more practical clothing.

You quickly opened the bedroom door and hurried to your huge closet that was the size of a small room. You changed into some thick trousers and warm boots with white fox fur.

You quickly pulled in your coat and a scarf. You opened the large windows and you peered down. You pulled on your hood and your mittens before you ventured down the ladder you had found in an abandoned closet in a part of the house that was rarely ever used.

The ladder creaked underneath your weight and you prayed that it would mange to hold you. Both of you.

You landed into the soft snow and you quickly ran down towards the gates.

The tall wrought iron gates were impossible to climb, especially if one was pregnant, but you had luckily borrowed the key from one of the butlers.

You twisted the key and the gates opens with a load groan. You could smell your freedom.

You locked the gate behind you before you walked down the hill that the house stood tall and proud on top.

The snow glittered in the moonlight and green-purple aurora danced over your head. The sight was so beautiful you almost wept.

As you wandered down the hill you got completely lost in the beauty of the winter landscape. You knew it was foolish, but you hadn’t been outside in so long.

The sound of hoofs snapped you out of your daydreaming. As you raised your gaze you were met with the sight of your husband’s beloved steel grey stallion. The stallion snorted hot air towards you. It looked like a beast at it stood tall in the moonlight.

On top of the proud animal was Dottore. His gaze sharp and would cause anyone who was on the receiving end of it to tremble. You were no different.

“What are you doing out here in the cold?” his voice colder than the cold winter wind that ruffled your hair.

At your silence he only sighed. “You are truly a lost cause. Are you seriously going to cause your unborn child harm in order to escape? You are even more foolish than what I thought” he scoffed as he made the horse circle you.

You spun around in order to keep an eye on his movements. “What makes you think I want to stay with you? Your arrogance disgusts me!” you sneered. “I refuse to raise my child with a monster like you!” your voice echoed through the treetops that surrounded the hill.

“Watch your tongue” he spat.

Your escape attempt had been a complete failure.

Dottore had reprimanded you for hours when you had been brought back inside.

You fiddled with your hands in your lap, not wanting to meet his eyes.

“If I ever catch you trying to escape ever again, there’s going to be dire consequences. You’re not going to accidentally harm my child. Our child. Do I make myself clear?” his tone stern.

Your eyes fixated on his neatly polished shoes. You nodded and muttered a low “yes”.

He gripped your jaw and forced your head up. “If you disobey me I will have to chain you to the bed and I really want to avoid that. So be a good girl.”

Lyney

The purple cat-like eyes of the magician was narrowed in anger and hurt. He had just caught you as you had sneaked out of the house with bag packed with your clothes and necessities.

The living room was empty except from the two of you. His younger brother and sister were out on business.

The record player in the corner by the fireplace was playing the soft tune of a ballet he had taken you to when you first started dating.

Lyney was sitting in front of you on a red arm chair. He was resting his head on his arms. His gaze faced down as he thought on what to say to you.

The only thing that separated the two of you was the coffee table. Normally you would have taken you your time to clean it, but not today. Multiple cards were littered across it accompanied with some face flowers. The mess was surprisingly beautiful.

“I don’t understand how you could do something like that to me” his voice low. “I had it all sorted out. I have talked to Father and she has nothing against your pregnancy and our relationship. In fact she supports it. She knows how important family is after all.”

“But you had to try and ruin it. I really don’t understand” his violet eyes met yours. They were filled with more emotions than what you could possibly make out.

“Lynette and Freminet even said they can take care of the baby if the two of us have plans or need some time for ourselves. Yes, Freminet is still a teenager, but he’s still fit to look after a child. He often take care of the younger children in The House. And Lynette has always had a soft spot for baby’s” his voice was getting louder.

“You don’t get it do you, Lyney?”

“Get what exactly?” his eyes scanned your features for something.

“You’re a cruel man. You have locked my away just because you think it’s for the best. You haven’t even bothered to even ask me what I want!” your voice was getting louder and louder by each word that left your lips. “I refuse to raise my child with a monster like you!” you stood up form the couch. Your finger pointed at him. “You disgust me.”

His mouth fell open in disbelief. Crystal tears welled up in his eyes and he furiously tried to blink them away. “What?” his voice was weak by hurt. “I’m trying to protect you! Why don’t you understand?” tears were now falling from his eyes as he had fallen to his knees in front of you.

It was a pity full sight, but he couldn’t care less. “Family is what matter the most to me! And you! You are a part of my family now and so is our unborn child!”

You tried to step back, but his hand was tightly gripping your thigh.

A broken laughter escaped from his lips and a rose to his feet slowly. His eyes crazed as they met yours. “You’re clearly unfit for making your own decisions, but worry not. I will help you. And together we’re going to raise the sweetest little child one could ever dream of.”

His unhinged voice and manner sent chives down your spine and you could feel the imaginary cage that wrapped itself around you. You were trapped between the claws of the beast-like cat, with no escape.

Neuvillette

The entire nation of Fontaine were searching for you. You would be lying if you said you were surprised. The judge could be awfully convincing when he wanted to.

Since your escape it had been raining non stop. Heavy rain poured down from the sky undisturbed. The rocks on the forgotten path you had chosen were slippery, and you had to be careful.

In the distance, from the town you had a pasted hours prior, you could hear the loud voices of the search party they had organised. Hounds barked as they made their way up the mountain. You quickly picked up your pace.

After an hour or so walking through the rain you finally found a small abandoned cottage. You were filled with relief when you noticed that the door was unlocked.

It smelled of mould and you felt bad for your unborn, but you had no other choice. The windows were dirty, but intact. You slumped down on the old couch. Your body was aching and you were so tired.

You did not know how much time had passed when you awoke to the sound of a fist pounding the creaky old front door. You rose to your feet with such fast motion that you knocked your elbow against the wooden armrest of the couch. You hissed in pain and clutched it as you made your way to the hallway.

You hid behind the door to the bathroom as you peered out the window by the door. You couldn’t see anyone.

The pounding continued and you were afraid whoever it was would break down the door if this continued.

“Who is it?” you meekly asked.

The pounding came to an halt and a gruff voice answered you. “I am from the neighbouring village. We are looking for the Iudex’s wife.”

You were about to answer when the door broke down. A tall and sturdy man with a bear that reached below his collarbones entered. “I apologise miss, but I need to search the cotta-” his voice trailed off when his eyes fell upon you. His eyes widened to a state you were afraid they would roll out. He backed away slightly and shouted over his shoulder “I found her!”

You were about to silence him but it was too late.

The man who found you brought you out to the little courtyard. Your eyes widened in fear when a pair of pale lavender eyes stared back at you.

“Wha-what are you doing here?” your voice was shaky with fear. You tried to back away from the tall dragon, but the search party blocked your path of escape.

“How could I not personally participate in the search of my own wife?” Neuvillette’s voice soft. He turned to the villagers “Please give us some space.”

The villagers nodded and quickly left.

As you stood all alone with your capture on the overgrown courtyard you couldn’t help, but think about all the choices you had made that had lead you to this.

“Why did you leave our home?” his deep voice had normally brought you comfort, but now it only brought you fear.

“Why? Any sane person would escape a madman such as yourself. You have taken everything from me and you still ask for more” you spoke with sudden braveness.

“I am not taking anything from you. You’re clearly not completely aware at the moment. But worry not, I’ll take care of everything. Just like I always have” his lips twisted up into a gentle smile.

“Oh really? I don’t believe you. I refuse to raise my child with a monster like you! Why don’t you understand?!” you were suddenly in front of him. Your finger jammed against his broad chest.

“Your words hold little meaning, my love. It’s my child too, do not forget. I have every right to be apart of its life just as you do. And besides in a matter of time you will have forgotten your… conflicted feelings” his big hand gently wrapped itself around your much smaller one. “I will make you happy. Just you wait” he gently kissed the top of your head. His kiss similar to the gavel he used to seal the fate of the poor souls in the Opera Epiclese.

Wriothesley

The Fortress of Meropide never got any more welcoming, no matter how much time you had been there.

You had tried to climb the stairs up to the surface, but Wriothesley had been quick to drag you back down again.

He had been eerily silent as he led you to his private quarters.

“This is your fourth escape attempt this two weeks. Are you not getting tired?” he sighed. He was leaning against the kitchen table, his arms folded over his muscular chest.

“I understand the Fortress is not the best place to raise a kid, but I have bought a house close to the entrance on the surface. I have made the arrangements so that we can rotate where we both stay. I will of course always stay with you in the house. I know it’s not optimal, but it’s the best I can do.”

“It’s not enough” you muttered.

“We will have to make it work.”

“Why? I didn’t ask to be sent here. I don’t care about you and the Iudex agreement. I didn’t agree to any of this” you raised your voice.

“There’s many thing in life that I haven’t asked for. You will manage” Wriothesley’s voice was laced with uncharacteristic anger.

“I will not! I refuse to raise my child with a monster like you!” your loud voice echoed inside the kitchen.

At your words something in Wriothesley snapped. “A monster you say?” he barked out a laughter. “I have been nothing but kind to you. But if you think that makes me a monster, I wonder what you’ll think of me now” his eyes colder than his vision.

Wriothesley dragged you inside your bedroom. “You’re not going to leave this room before I say you can. I will use the spare bedroom” he pointed to the bathroom. “If you’re thirsty between meals, you know where to find water.” With that he slammed the door closed. The sound of his key twisting sent a pang through your chest.

Escape had never seemed so far out of reach as it was now. You found yourself longing for the outside and the smell of the wildflowers that littered the green meadows of Fontaine. Maybe the house Wriothesley had promised you on the surface didn’t sound so bad after all.

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rubywithecat · 12 days ago

Text

Jjk men when someone walk in while having sex

A/N: This contains mature content so, minors do not interact. Please note that this is just a fiction and if u find any discomfort with my ideas, feel free to skip. Thanks a lot for support and love ~<33

Gojo Satoru

- Ur on vacation with him at a fancy hotel. “Satoru not now” you giggled, trying to push him back. “I just ordered room service and the staff can arrive any minute soon”. He frowned, “Who cares? They are nobody” he didn’t stop and continue kissing your neck, unzipping your skirt. You kissed him back and the thought of someone might see you turns on you so much, tbh. You put your hands through his soft hair while he eats you out. You moaned when he gave you pleasure. As you were having a good time, you heard a noise and you both were shocked seeing a staff in with food. Gojo quickly covered you and furiously yelled at the staff. “Don’t you know how to fcking knock?! What kind of hotel is this for giving millions yen??” The staff was frightened and apologized. “I— I knocked several time and since nobody answered and the door wasn’t locked, I thought I was supposed to deliver inside… I’m so so sorry, sir”. “Just get out!” He shouted and when the door was closed, he sighed. “Didn’t expect that. Are you okay?” He checked up on you.

Toji Fushiguro

- You knelt down while he sat on his chair and give him blow job. “Do u like it?” U said, looking up with ur doe eyes. “I love it, princess” he moaned. Ur direction was opposite to the door so u couldn’t see even tho u heard smtg. “Don’t mind that keep on” he said, looking with extra smirk. When he finished, you stood up, fixing your clothes and hair and then looked back as you saw his colleague standing, awkwardly. You were so embarrassed and looked at Toji who is just grining and put on his belt. “You didn’t tell me!” You whispered. “You didn’t ask” he shrugged. “But I know we both don’t hate it, right?”. “Fck u, Fushiguro!” U replied as he answered, “Already looking forward to it” he said as he kissed your cheek and winked. “See you tonight, bby” he walked to his colleague casually and they left the room.

Nanami Kento

- You were having an intimate night with ur bf and while riding on him, only wearing black socks and him with just his tie. Then, u both suddenly heard a footstep. “Babe, do u have any idea who might come visit?” U asked, worried. His face changed as he remembered, “Oh my god! Gojo—“ before he could finished, Gojo appeared into his bedroom. He quickly pulled the blanket, securing ur body not being exposed. “Oh my gosh, dude!” Gojo shouted as he looked away. “Ur maid said ur up here so I just walked in and wasn’t excepting this!! Just lock next time” he said and left. “Ur not welcome here anymore, Satoru!” Nanami yelled as he apologized to u and u said ur okay. As u both fully clothed, u went to meet with Gojo and he laughed at both of you.

Sukuna Ryomen

- He was on top of you as he thrusting in you several times. “Ur fcking enjoying it, huh?” He asked with pride. “Yea—h” U moaned. Suddenly, his servant walked in. “Master, I heard an emergency—“ he was so stunned to speak. Sukuna didn’t even bother to look and continued taking you out. “I’m cumming” u said as he trusted harder and then he released. He kissed on ur forehead when you smiled at him. “I’ll be back” he said as he dressed up. “Now, where do I start slicing u off” he said to the servant.

Geto Suguru

- “I think Shoko is coming to study with me” U said when he was busy fcking u from behind. “When?” He calmly asked. “She didn’t tell the time but—“ U heard a voice. “Y/n! U wouldnt believe when I tell u this…” when she arrived to ur room, she was surprised to see u sweating and sitting alone and on bed… “What r u doing?” She asked being suspicious and not normal. “What do u mean? I’m just umm, sitting…” Geto was inside the blanket, beneath u. “Well, then…” she sat on bedside which made u panicked. “I know how much u hate Geto but hear me out I saw him starring at u at lunch time like is he crazy or smth” she gossiped. U bit ur lips. “Ahh right!” As she continues talking, u felt him playing with u as u started to feel smtg between ur leg. “Umm… stop! Ah-h” U yelled which made her confused. “What?” She asked as u forced smiling and shook ur head, “Nothing”

——

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brokenmenswhore · 6 months ago

Note

I need more stuff with poly!maraudersxreader spicy stuff🤭

i am but your humble servant 🙇‍♀️

mean | poly!marauders

pairing: poly!marauders x fem!reader (james, remus, & sirius)

summary: the boys get jealous seeing you with a study partner, and you reap the consequences when you tell sirius he was being ‘mean’

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), rough sex, use of the word daddy twice

a/n: is my sirius favoritism showing too much or no

────── ☾ ──────

“I don’t think I’ll ever actually understand this class,” you said, the library study session beginning to take its toll.

“You’re getting it!” Evan encouraged, “we just need to work on it a little bit more.”

“I appreciate your faith in me, but I think after four hours, I either get it or I don’t,” you replied.

“I don’t mind the time,” Evan said, “especially when I get to spend it with you.”

Your three boyfriends could hear every single word exchanged between the two of you, being that they were seated only two tables away, and the second they heard Evan’s statement, Sirius jolted upwards from his chair.

“Sit down,” Remus instructed, “what are you gonna do? Kill him in the middle of our entire year?”

“Yeah, Remus, I just might,” Sirius responded, but still sat back down, eyes never leaving the two of you.

“You have to trust her, Sirius,” James scolded.

“It’s not her I don’t trust,” Sirius said, nostrils flaring in a rage.

Evan was sitting much closer to you than the boys were comfortable with, but they had to trust that you would shut him down if he overstepped.

“Yeah, this has at least been fun!” you told Evan, “but I think I’m a lost cause. This library is beginning to feel like an asylum.”

Evan shrugged, “I mean, we could change the scenery if that’s the problem. There’s usually not anyone in the fifth year potions classroom after the midday class. It would be quiet, and we could be alone and really focus.”

Evan shifted his chair even closer to you, placing an arm around the back of your chair, and leaning closer to you.

“That’s it, I’m gonna kill him,” Sirius said, standing up and reaching your table before Remus or James could keep him at bay.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Sirius spat, hands on the table as he leaned in, standing across from you.

“Studying?” you replied as Evan backed off.

“Studying,” he mocked in a high tone, “tell him he better get the fuck away from you if he wants to continue breathing.”

“I’m right here, Black, if you have a problem, say it straight to me,” Evan retorted, standing up to meet Sirius’s eye level.

“Ok, Rosier,” Sirius cleared his throat, “I have a problem with you attempting to feel up my girlfriend and then get her alone. I also have a problem with the lack of bruising on your face.”

“Sirius!” you and Remus scolded in unison, the other two boys now next to Sirius, ready to pull him back if he decided to lunge.

“I didn’t do a single thing,” Evan protested, “but if you’re so insecure that you think studying means she’ll cheat on you, maybe she never really liked you in the first place. She could do better anyway.”

Sirius went to jump over the table, but Remus and James held onto one arm each, holding him back as Evan laughed.

“This is not worth it,” Evan told you, “I’ll see you around.”

“Evan, I’m sorry-“ you tried to say as he walked away, your attention turning to Sirius. You were angry with him for the way he was acting, but his fury far outweighed yours.

Remus and James dropped their grip on Sirius when he calmed down. Sirius glared daggers into you. “Just studying, eh?”

“We were just studying until you tried to attack him,” you retorted.

“Go to the dorm room now before I decide to make you feel sorry right here. We’ll meet you up there.”

“But I still-“

“Now.”

The rage in Sirius’ voice was not something to take lightly. When he was mad, making him angrier often ended badly. You retreated to the dorms, seated cross-legged on your bed with a textbook open as you waited for your boyfriends to arrive.

The door to the dorms swung open so hard that the door slammed open against the wall. All three of your partners entered the room, Sirius stomping straight over to you and wrapping a hand around your throat.

“Had a fun day toying with other boys, huh?” he asked.

“Sirius, please, I really was just trying to study,” you pleaded, eyes finding Remus and James and searching for help, “you guys should know that I would never do that to you.”

“I know, baby,” Sirius’ voice weakened, his anger breaking at your pleas, “I’m just mad someone else tried to take what’s mine.”

“I think he was trying to make us jealous, too,” Remus added, “and it worked.”

“Is that what the big issue is?” you asked for clarification, “you’re all jealous?”

“He got really close to you,” James responded, the candor in his voice hurting your heart.

“I’m yours,” you said, grabbing the wrist around your throat, “I’m all of yours, and yours only, you know that.”

“We know,” Sirius said, “I’m just so mad. I can’t calm down.”

“You need to release the energy, Sirius,” James said, “you’re never gonna get past this if you don’t.”

Sirius looked into your eyes, and you gave him a slight nod, signaling to him that he could use you to release the energy. He had a lot of pent up rage from the earlier incident that he needed to let out. He needed to remind you, and himself, that you were his.

Sirius crashed his lips onto yours, a hand still on your throat as he pushed you back against the headboard.

Remus threw the textbook in front of you onto the floor, pulling your legs from their position until they were out in front of you. He kissed up your thighs until he was under your skirt, kissing on top your underwear as you let out a small moan into Sirius’s mouth.

Remus moved your underwear to the side, immediately diving in between your folds with his tongue, causing you to gasp. Sirius pulled away from your mouth, allowing him to hear the noises you made. You whined as Remus shoved his tongue into your soaking wet hole, the intrusion catching you off guard.

“Shit, Remmy,” you whimpered.

“Gotta remind you who you belong to, dove,” James spoke, taking a seat on the bed next to you, “you remember?”

“I’m y-yours, shit, James, all yours,” you whined as Remus continued to fuck you with his tongue, your hand taking its place on his head, fingers entwined in his hair, holding him in place.

“No fair,” Sirius pouted, “why do you get to hear her moan your name when I’m the one who got mad in the first place?”

“Y-ou were mean,” you explained, breathing heavy, making talking difficult as ever, trying to give Sirius the reason you weren’t focusing your attention to him, despite your better judgement.

Remus heard you and immediately stopped his assault on your core. You tried to push his head back down in desperation, but he took your hands off of his head, pinning them to your sides.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Sirius questioned, tone low and dark.

“Nothing,” you answered, hoping they would let it go but knowing better.

“I was mean, huh? I don’t deserve to hear you moan my name then, is that it? You think you’re so big and powerful, punishing me because I was mean?” Sirius was growing angrier and angrier, his rage overtaking him again.

“I- I’m sorry,” you tried to backtrack.

“No, no, it’s too late for that now. If you think I don’t deserve to hear you, then I won’t do anything that constitutes a noise. You don’t want me, then so be it.”

“No, please, I do, I want you, please-“

“Tell it to James,” Sirius cut you off. He was mad at you for talking back to him, and mad about earlier, but he was strictly doing this to punish you. He knew you loved how he fucked you when he was mad, and he was threatening to deny you what you wanted.

“Jamesie, please, tell him that I w-“

“Uh uh,” James tutted, “you’re with me now, not Sirius. You don’t get to have him now.”

You pouted, tears threatening to spill as you looked up at James. He leaned over you, kissing your forehead before your lips, distracting you with his mouth before a hand lifted up your skirt and traveled beneath the waistband of your underwear, finding its home on your pearl.

James began to rub in circles, eliciting a moan in the kiss.

“Remus, I think you can go back now,” James spoke.

Remus kept your hands pinned at your sides but shifted downward, tongue reentering you as James rubbed you off, the feeling of two different men on your core driving you insane.

Sirius slumped down on a chair a few feet away, lighting a cigarette as he watched Remus and James overstimulate you as they held you down.

“Jamie, please,” you moaned.

“Please what, dove?” James asked, beginning to touch any part of your core he could, the pleasure becoming too much to handle.

“Please let me come,” you begged.

James looked at Remus, who made eye contact with him, but never left you alone. He shoved his tongue in and out of you, curling it upwards once inside, eyes focused on James as he waited for any signal to stop.

James, however, was always the nicest to you in the bedroom. Though he knew Sirius and Remus would usually stop now, he was making the call, and he hated denying you your pleasure, even if you were being punished.

He leaned in and kissed you, his touch quickening and hardening as Remus continued to taste as much of you as he could, causing your climax to hit you without warning. You squealed and moaned into James’s mouth, legs shaking as Remus licked up any remnants of your high before pulling away from you and standing up.

You attempted to catch your breath as Sirius took one last drag of his cigarette, extinguishing the flame and walking over to you, your cheeks flushed and chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to calm down.

“See, you didn’t need me, did you?” Sirius taunted.

“I-“

“Still don’t want me?”

You furiously shook your head no. “No, nonono, I want you, please, I need you,” you begged.

“Even though I’m so fucking mean?” he spat, intentionally working himself up to an angry place again.

“Yes, daddy, please,” you replied, using the name for him that you knew he couldn’t resist.

Sirius growled, tugging on his jeans and crawling over you, lightly kissing your neck before meeting your gaze.

“Beg for me,” he demanded.

Your heart was beating so hard it made your chest sore. “Please, daddy, I want you.”

“I think he’s earned hearing his name, sweetheart,” Remus spoke from beside you.

“Please, I need you so bad, Siri, I-“

The second you spoke his name, Sirius pushed your skirt up to your waist and your underwear to the side, inserting his entire length into you in one quick motion, a move he loved to use when he was punishing you for something. Though he had been inside of you plenty of times, he was too large to simply just start fucking you without a warm up, unless, that is, he was purposefully being mean.

You let out a high pitched moan at the intrusion, always forgetting just how deep his cock hits within you.

He then pulled almost his entire length out of you before slamming it back in, your body jolting upwards at the feeling of his hips snapping against yours. He started to fuck you, fast and hard, leaving no time for you to adjust to him or his size.

“Siri, fuck,” you moaned.

“That’s it,” he breathed, “you’re all mine. You fucking belong to me.”

All three boys were possessive of you, but knew you ‘belonged’ to all three of them, not just one. However, when Sirius was mad, the other boys didn’t matter. They knew he needed to feel like you were his and only his. All the boys needed that one-on-one intimacy at times, but Sirius craved it all the time, and sometimes Remus suspected that he really did wish you were all his.

“It’s too much, can’t- I c-“ you started to plead, but Sirius didn’t care, continuing his ruthless pace that nearly had your head slamming upwards into the headboard with each thrust.

“You can, and you will,” Sirius spoke, “you’re all fucking mine. I don’t even want anyone else near you. You’re gonna take it like a good girl so that everyone can hear who you belong to, understood?”

You nodded, taking a moment to process that you had to speak. “Yes, Siri.”

“Good girl,” he said, one of his hands grabbing your throat as he snapped his hips at an almost violent pace.

“Siri, please, I’m gonna c-“

“You know you’re supposed to wait until he comes,” Remus reminded you, “or else it just isn’t fair.”

“B- but- I-“

“No buts,” Remus said, running a thumb over your cheek to collect the tears that were now falling, “you wait until Siri is ready, and then you come with him. He deserves at least that much.”

Your walls were clenching around his cock, and you fought desperately not to come. You knew you were supposed to wait and come in unison with whoever was fucking you, but you were overstimulated, and Sirius’s possessiveness was hot.

“That’s right, baby, you gotta wait,” Sirius cooed, “my girl only comes when I say she can. You’re my girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Siri, I’m yours,” you responded, your hands grabbing desperately at his shoulders to steady yourself, “all yours.”

Sirius ran a hand over your body, scanning every inch of you as he fucked you. “All mine,” he whispered, almost more to himself than to you.

Sirius’s thrusts began to become erratic and sloppy, his high approaching as his clock twitched inside of you.

“You gonna come with me, love?” Sirius asked, and you whined in response, signaling that you were ready.

Sirius tightened his grip around your throat. “Come for me,” he commanded, “for me and only me.”

Your walls clenched around Sirius one last time as you came around him, one final “Sirius!” leaving your lips as you did.

The feeling of you coming around him caused Sirius to reach his high, his final few thrusts sharp and deep inside of you.

He took a moment to collect himself and catch his breath before pulling out of you.

“You remember who you belong to now?” James asked, sweetly repositioning your skirt over you to allow you modesty as you calmed down.

“Mhm,” you began to feel tired, “I’m all of yours.”

1K notes · View notes

blue-jisungs · 2 months ago

Text

love.

[ song inspo ! ] love. by wave to earth

[ author’s note ! ] i literally had an idea and started writing this fic on 25th of november 2023. its 22nd of november 2024 btw. ANYWHO. i do hope you enjoy it BC I SURE DID. treat it as a small warm up for whats abt to come in the summer (hopefully). a bigbigbiiig shout out to my bby @fairyhaos who proofread it and corrected my silly mistakes. yena i love you with my whole heart im so grateful you managed to stay sane while doing that <3

[ summary ! ] mingyu is VERY whipped for you ever since first meeting and he shows it through his actions, rather than words.

[ extras ! ] idol!mingyu x animal shelter worker!yn ft wonwoo the bestie. mostly fluff but there is a bittersweet moment (read: a pinch of angst and whole lot of comfort)

[ warnings ! ] mention of animal death, abuse and poor keeping conditions; swearing, food (i love soup if u couldnt tell), alcohol mention, couple of swears, wound and blood (nothing major though), reader is said to have a period (idk if thats a warning but i figured id list it too),,, painfully cute n teeth rotting <3

[ word count ! ] 12k

the coldness in the room made you shiver, despite a hoodie and blanket on your lap. with a heavy heart you looked around all the cages and then at the old dog napping on your lap.

“i’m sorry baby” you mumbled and with shaky hands clicked ‘post’.

putting your phone away, you focused on petting the grey-furred dog. you’d start working once she was awake.

“okay, time for a break!” hoshi yelled out and ran to grab his water.

wonwoo slumped his shoulders, only to stretch them afterwards.

“any plans for today after this?” mingyu asked, approaching his friend. he shook his head as a no, brown hair falling on his face. “i thought we could go out and grab something to eat. there’s a new ramen place that opened up.”

“sure, why not” wonwoo smiled and reached for his phone. mingyu noticed the slight change in his friend’s features as he looked down at the device, the corners of his mouth dropping down slowly.

“what happened?” mingyu tilted his head. wonwoo typed something quickly on his phone and a small sigh left his lips.

“remember my friend, y/n? she sometimes swings by” he asked, putting away his phone. mingyu nodded “she’s having some financial difficulties.”

“aw man, that sucks” mingyu grunted, genuinely feeling worried. a friend of a friend was someone who he’d help, even if he doesn’t know you well. “what happened?”

“it’s a long story…” wonwoo mumbled and suddenly his eyes sparkled. “maybe she’ll tag along with us for the ramen? i’ll pay for her. but maybe it would take her mind off things…”

“sure, no problem!” mingyu grinned. “and i’ll finally get to properly meet her”

“just… please don’t scare her” his friend snickered and mingyu just rolled his eyes playfully.

arriving at a small but cozy restaurant, you took off your coat and hat. the delicious smell of food filled your nostrils and you went further inside, looking for wonwoo and his friend. finally, you found them in a small private room. you smiled upon noticing mingyu.

“oh, y/n! why didn’t you text me when you arrived?” wonwoo asked and you just shook your head.

“my fingers froze, i literally couldn’t type” you giggled and noticed his friend standing up. “also, hello. mingyu right? hi. i’m y/n.”

“hi, yes, i’m mingyu. it’s nice to finally meet you, y/n. i’ve heard a lot about you” the man smiled, his canines showing. he reached his hand out to greet you and you had to pull yourself together.

“good things, i assume?” you chuckled and shook his warm, large hand.

since he and wonwoo were roommates, you sometimes bumped into mingyu when you were visiting your best friend. but it was usually just ‘hi’ or some small talk. you were basically strangers. however, it was no secret that mingyu was your type; even wonwoo knew this. (which was why he was always putting off the meeting of you two or told mingyu to stay in his room when you were visiting). you were always too shy to make a move though.

“as if there were bad things about you, y/n” wonwoo cut in, patting the place next to him. you finally tore your eyes away from mingyu and sat next to your friend, smiling at him. “have you guys ordered yet?”

“no, mingyu insisted that we wait for you” wonwoo tapped the menu in front of him and handed it to you. “but we’ve already decided what we want.”

while you scanned through the positions on the menu, mingyu couldn’t take his eyes off you. sure, he’d seen you a couple of times but only for a mere moment when passing you in the hallway. you looked so cute right now… with your cheeks dusted pink from the cold, some snowflakes still resting atop of your head (but they melted within seconds). your brows knitting adorably while you were focused on the menu and–

mingyu felt wonwoo’s gaze on him. he gulped and smiled awkwardly at his friend, looking away from you (temporarily).

after ordering, you started chatting about some casual stuff: your work, their preparation for comebacks, what was the latest and all of that. once your ramens arrived, you knew that the topic would eventually come out.

“and what about your shelter, y/n?” wonwoo asked, digging into his meal. his ebony eyes looked at you tenderly from above his steamed glasses. mingyu tilted his head, like a curious puppy. you sighed and shook your head, slowly stirring the warm soup. noodles and toppings swirled and interlocked with each other.

“for context, i do volunteer work at a shelter outside the town” you explained to mingyu. he was listening carefully, picking the meat in his ramen. “and i’ve been doing that for like five years now. each winter was harsh but now…”

you bit your bottom lip and sent him a reassuring smile. your chopsticks kept stirring softly, absentmindedly. the bottle green shaded seaweed tangled with the fresh egg yolk spilling into the broth.

“for a while now, the animal food has been becoming more expensive. and so have the bills. during summer, there was an accident, and we had a flood because one of the pipes broke down. on top of that, one of our doggies had to be taken to urgent care… it all cost us so much money that now… we barely can pay bills” you mumbled, staring at the droplets of fat swimming in your ramen. “i’m doing my best, working two, three jobs at a time but…”

“but it’s not enough. you posted an announcement about closing down, right?” wonwoo asked and mingyu’s eyes went wide. three jobs? at a time? that sounded like a nightmare. you took a bite and nodded sadly.

“if nothing changes by the end of december, we’ll have to. i don’t even want to think about what we will do with all the animals” you sighed and looked at mingyu “but hey, life. rich people will go buying purebred dogs or puppies meanwhile… i'm not saying it’s bad, but you know how it is.”

“could i go see your shelter?” mingyu suddenly asked, causing wonwoo to frown. you nodded, taking a sip of the warm soup. your friend fixed his glasses, hiding his puzzled expression.

“it’s an hour drive, though” he chimed in, reaching to pour you and mingyu some tea.

“i don’t mind. i’d like to see it and if you need some help, just let me know” mingyu offered and flashed you a toothy smile. you saw him frown a little and suddenly grab his phone. he tapped something twice and returned his attention to you.

“i really appreciate it” you responded, looking the man in the eye and sending him a genuine smile. mingyu’s gaze lingered on you for a while longer before you suddenly heard wonwoo choking on ramen.

mingyu never would have thought that he’d be spending a free weekend (a rare occurrence!) in the suburbs, ankle deep in snow. the animal shelter was in front of him and he could already get a whiff of the… not so pleasant… smell of wet fur and dog food.

suddenly, he heard wonwoo laughing.

“the look on your face” his friend snickered. “better start getting used to it.”

wonwoo insisted on tagging along with mingyu. knowing you, you’d get him to help you with some stuff. he reasoned the more hands you had to work, the quicker the job would get done but the truth was that he didn’t want to leave mingyu alone with you. yet.

it’s not like he didn’t trust him, obviously. it was just… you were his friend… and he was his friend… before he started playing cupid, he had to test the waters.

barking of dogs ripped through the air, echoing in the silence.

“yah, yah! bunny, calm down!”

wonwoo nudged mingyu and they went into the direction of the noise, snow crunching underneath their feet.

they saw you with a big, white dog almost blending with the snowy landscape. your hat almost fell on your eyes, a big scarf covering your lips.

“stop it!” you grunted and yanked the leash. the dog stopped in its tracks, ears pointing up upon hearing the strangers approach “oh, you’re here!”

the dog barked but stood still in front of you, as if ready to protect.

“hi!” mingyu waved, instantly feeling stupid. this was dumb. and embarrassing.

you cracked a smile and fixed your scarf, waving back.

“let’s go back inside” you said, tugging the leash. “i think bunny had enough.”

“bunny? what a cute name” mingyu murmured.

“she’s white and fluffy… and jumps. she jumps so much” you breathed out the last part and started going back “follow me!”

“are you alone today? or is someone with you?” wonwoo asked. the dog indeed skipped a lot, white tail whooshing in air with excitement.

“all alone” you answered.

you were inside in no time, the smell hitting mingyu more clearly. he scrunched his nose and ignored wonwoo’s yet another snicker. they watched you put the dog back in the cage – which was hard due to its resistance. however, mingyu was impressed. one sharp look and a pointer finger was all it took for bunny to obediently sit inside the cage.

you stayed in jackets because the heating had to be used reasonably. you brought tea in a flask that you made beforehand and some snacks. you sat in the office that all the workers shared.

mingyu noticed you had a fleece pullover with the logo of the shelter sewn on your right.

”thank you for visiting, i really appreciate that you wanted to spend your precious free time with us, here” you smiled and poured them the steaming tea. its faint but pleasant smell filled the room.

“no, no. the pleasure is all mine, i promise. there’s other workers too, right?” mingyu asked and looked around. there were a lot of pictures framed, mostly of the staff with the animals. but there were some of you and wonwoo. cute.

“yeah but i usually take the weekend. my other friend will be here in a couple of hours. you see, they’re all students so they appreciate their free time and we’re volunteers, after all” you explained. “i can handle working and going here, the commute is just a joke”

“oh, where do you work?” mingyu asked, genuinely interested.

“i’m a vet. i finished my studies and stayed in the field. because of that i can help here too” you explained and saw how his face morphed into an impressed one.

“woah. good to know, i’ll call you if there’s something wrong with my dogs” he smiled and wonwoo mirrored the gesture.

“you have dogs? can i see them?” you shifted in your seat, sparkles of excitement in your eyes. mingyu thought it was absolutely adorable – but hey, he loves dogs too, he would react the same way.

“they're called aji, bobpul and bobtori!” he grinned and showed you his wallpaper.

“oh they are so cute, what the hell?” you whined, a pout forming on your lips. “ i love them.”

mingyu sighed, heart beating hard against his rib cage. wonwoo just rolled his eyes playfully, crossing his arms on his chest.

“you love all animals” he snickered.

“i do, you caught me. do they live with you?” you asked, leaning forward in curiosity.

“no, they live with my parents. i sadly don’t have much time to take care of them and i don’t want to leave them all alone in my apartment” mingyu said softly. wonwoo nodded and stood up.

“before we get to work i’ll go use the bathroom real quick” he said and left. mingyu watched his silhouette disappear and once his friend was gone, he leaned forward to meet you halfway. you matched his mischievous smirk that came about on his features.

“let me use this opportunity to ask you one thing: can i have your number?” the corner of his lips rose up and your cheeks dusted with pink. “just, you know… i’d love to help more, i love animals. and this grumpy cat would bite my head off if he knew i asked you.”

“oh yeah. he’s a real meanie sometimes” you chuckled and nodded. “sure, i’ll give you it. some extra help will always be appreciated… i hope you won’t change your mind after today, though.”

you winked and he just chuckled, giving you his phone to type your name. you could be sure he wouldn’t, even if he left exhausted.

mingyu was whipped. he knew it was wrong – you were his best friend’s best friend, he shouldn’t really feel this way. especially only after two meetings. but not only were you mesmerizingly pretty, your heart was also so pure. his plan on obtaining your number worked perfectly, so now he could text you whenever he wanted.

and he was so smitten that he did. you basically texted everyday so he was aware of all the hard work you were doing for the animals.

he wanted to help, he really did, but comeback preparations kept him busy too. so he observed slightly from afar, checking on the shelter’s instagram for any new information. he also spread the word amongst his friends and left some hints for carats.

but nothing seemed to change for you, bills still being quite overwhelming.

“i’m just so tired, you know?”

one day you called him while you were alone in the shelter to guard over the animals before your colleague arrived.

“i work my ass off but no one seems interested in adopting the old doggies or cats. they all care about puppies” you sighed, looking at the calendar. it was halfway through november so still a lot of time left until you’d have to shut down.

“i’ll take one” he blurted out, not entirely processing what left his mouth.

“don’t you already have three dogs…?” you hummed, amused.

“well… yeah…” mingyu chuckled, melting upon hearing (and imagining) the smile that formed on your lips.

“i’m not stopping you but consider your dogs too, though. i don’t want you to do that for me but rather for the dogs” you hummed tenderly “but i appreciate it, you’re really sweet”

he grinned and caught a glimpse of his face in the reflection of a nearby window. his smile dropped, shaking his head aggressively.

pull. yourself. together.

“i’ll think about it. maybe an old senior dog would like to spend its years with some energetic friends? trust me, my babies would entertain anyone” mingyu puffed his chest proudly upon thinking about aji, bobpul and bobtori. “oh, by the way my next weekend is free. i’ll stop by to help then, if you'd like?”

“oh, that’s great! we’ll have a cat food delivery so some strong arms would be useful” you explained excitedly and mingyu huffed, pleased, already thinking of ways in which he could flex his biceps.

if he had listened more carefully, he wouldn’t have had to curse mentally at his own stupidity.

mingyu was scared of cats. not that he didn't like them, they just… were evil. and can freak out with their cold stare…

which was why, right now, instead of being happy that he was alone with you… he was… scared.

“cats?” he repeated after you.

“cats. they're a bit further so that’s why you didn’t see them last time… and i’m happy you agreed to help me with them because i’ve got loads of work” you hummed and rubbed your arms.

(actually he was the one who proposed helping and you agreed.)

“yeah. sure. of course… no problem” mingyu chuckled nervously, hair rising on his neck at the mere thought of touching a cat.

you turned around and scanned his face.

“what?” he asked, blinking slowly.

“you don’t like cats, do you?” you raised an eyebrow and he gulped. guilty.

“no, of course not. love those little fellas, actually” he shook his head and was taken by surprise when you grabbed him by the arm and led to the section with cats.

some of the felines started meowing, some of them not caring at all.

“good… i’d have to tell wonwoo if it were otherwise” you snickered and pointed at a green bag in the corner “would you mind carrying it over here? i might as well use your muscles while you’re here. it’s not like i haven't told you that those will come in handy, by the way”

mingyu grinned and obliged. the bag with cat food was really heavy so he was a bit shocked.

“don’t tell me you carry it yourself… “ he whispered, shocked and you smiled, opening it once it was close enough.

“a girl gotta do what she gotta do, especially when i’m alone here” you shrugged “but hey, i don’t need to go to the gym because of that”

you shared a laugh and you kneeled.

“now, we’ll feed them first. just do that, easy” you hummed and showed him.

you opened the cage and grabbed an empty bowl. quickly closing the cage again, so the cat wouldn’t escape, you scooped a handful of cat food with a small shovel. at the sound of the snacks rattling against the bowl, all the cats started stirring and meowing in unison. then you opened the cage and swiftly put it back where it was.

“when they’re busy eating, i also refill their water. i usually put it in the other corner because cats in their natural habitat don’t drink in the same place where they eat… but it’s okay if you put it next to the food” you shrugged, grabbing the water bowl.

“that’s all. easy, right?”

right.

you stood up and patted his back encouragingly.

“you do that row, i’ll do this one. also, do you mind if i play some music? i usually do that when i’m here…” you asked a bit shyly.

“sure, no problem!” mingyu smiled and stared at the next cat he was supposed to feed. its’ green eyes scanned his… threateningly…

the sound of wave to earth discography ripped gently through the halls as you began work. mingyu gulped and shuffled closer, hand resting above the lock of the cage.

he kept opening and closing his palm in hesitation. there’s nothing that could go wrong. it was just a cat. a poor, homeless cat… that just wanted to be fed. nothing more.

mingyu took a deep breath, as if preparing to dive head first into a freezing cold ocean, and rapidly opened the cage, grabbing the bowls.

the cat sent him a judging stare, not moving from its place. refilling the bowls, spilling a bit of water and food, he noticed the animal’s nose twitching curiously.

then he opened the cage and put them back in. the moment the container with food touched the blanket, the feline rose up and approached it. mingyu closed the cage a bit too harshly, a loud clunk disturbing the peaceful atmosphere.

you turned around to check what was going on and noticed his buff chest rising up and down a bit irregularly.

“is everything okay, mingyu?” you asked worriedly. he looked at you, a boyish smile painting on his lips.

“yes, absolutely. i was just scared it’ll escape…” mingyu chuckled anxiously and calmed down, especially after hearing his name coming from your lips. it sounded so… nice and delicate.

“don’t worry. even if, nothing will happen” you hummed and got back to your task.

mingyu let out a shaky breath and looked at all the cages he had to do as well.

welp, one done. now rest of the row…

mingyu clenched his fists, trying not to be clumsy. he heard you humming along to the songs and immersed in the intimate setting of this situation. just the two of you, dimmed lights in the room and outside – snow falling, dancing and twirling in the dark sky.

out of the blue, when he was about to close a cage, the cat inside of it slipped away. it was smooth, liquid-alike, when squeezing through a really small gap. a yelp left his lips and he started at, falling on his back.

you whipped your head around and notice a blur of a grey tail.

“are you okay?” you asked, walking up to him. he simply dusted off his pants and nodded, a bit too stunned to speak. when he noticed you were reaching your hand out to help him stand up, there was a loud meow. “come on, let’s go find that trouble maker.”

your hand was soft and warm against his (and he thought he saw a faint blush forming on your cheeks). he stood up. you were calling the cat and pspspsing at it.

“tualha, come on! your friends want to eat too” you called gently. mingyu observed you, walking right behind. you were calm and composed - not angry at him nor the cat, not rushing.

“tualha? that’s an unusual name” he tilted his head and saw your grin.

“a really good friend of mine came up with it” you explained. “she’s cute and fluffy but can be a meanie sometimes.”

mingyu tried to copy your actions and started calling the feline as well, the sound alerting some of the dogs.

only when barks reached your ears were you able to localize the escapee. you noticed the grey furred cat sitting afraid in the corner of the room, pupils thin as a needle. quickly scooping the cat into your arms, you tried to calm her down.

“she has trust issues, that’s her biggest con, to tell you the truth. people get impatient when she doesn’t cuddle with them after a week or two. that’s normal but they don’t see it” your words echoed quietly against the empty corridor as you walked back.

mingyu scanned the feline. indeed, she was fluffy and majestic-looking, definitely an expensive breed. her eyes were a shade of light green, fading into faint yellow. her cute, beige nose was crunched.

“it took her two months to open up to me” you murmured and he noticed how feather-lightly you were caressing the cat’s chin and head. you noticed his focused gaze and smiled. “she’s pretty, huh?”

to be honest, he abhorred cats. they were scary and mean. dogs, for him, were infinitely preferable.

but maybe… well, tualha was pretty. but not as pretty as you. well, of course, you’re a human and not a cat– what was he even thinking about?

he nodded shyly, not having enough courage to say it out loud. you came back to her cage and kneeled down to put her in. mingyu rested his hand atop of the doors, holding them open for you.

and just when you left tualha in the cage and mingyu was about to close it, she jerked forward and with a mean hiss, swung her paw.

mingyu didn’t even feel it at first, too focused on closing the cage. it was only when your hands grabbed his with a yelp that the pain struck him like bricks falling down.

a scratch was stretching from the knuckle below his index finger to a little below his wrist. it was deep and bleeding and he hoped it was not too serious. his face twisted in a grimace but he remained silent, mirroring your reaction.

“i knew it, she was too calm. i’m so sorry” you said, voice full of sadness. there was a pang in his heart; he did not like the emotion soaking your voice, at all. “i’’ll patch you up.”

“don’t apologize. it’s fine. it’s not like my hand is gonna fall off, hm?” he teased and followed you to the office.

“well, our cats are vaccinated so you’re going to be fine” you grinned and sat him down on your chair whereas you rushed to grab the first aid kit. his ebony eyes followed your moves. he noticed your hands were littered with scars and cuts as well. some were fresh, some faded out. there were even a couple of bite marks peeking from under your long sleeves.

you noticed his gaze and just smiled, finally fishing out the saline solution.

“i work with gloves but as you can see, it’s inevitable” you sent him an encouraging smile and rose your arm up, the sleeve of your hoodie rolling down and revealing more of the former injuries. “i guess that’s what our jobs have in common, the risk of getting hurt.”

you grabbed his hand and sent him a small smile. he was so focused on your glowing beauty that the next words you said only hit when he felt them.

“this will sting.”

he hissed, the feeling setting his teeth on edge.

“you’re a big boy though, it’ll just be a short while” you teased and he scoffed.

“will i get a band aid?” mingyu pouted dramatically and adored the way even your eyes smiled.

“oh you will. believe it or not but it has dogs on it!” you opened your mouth in a fake shock expression and you two laughed, the pain somehow… disappearing into thin air.

not even once in your life had someone picked up a phone call from you so fast.

“hello?” mingyu’s voice was energetic despite it being 9am on a thursday morning.

“hi, mingyu! that was quick” you chuckled, pouring hot water into your cup. before he could answer, you continued. “i was wondering if you’d want to accompany me–“

“yes”

a laugh left your lips and you put away the kettle, pinching the bridge of your nose with your free hand. that man was impossible.

“you didn’t even let me finish, dummy” you fought a grin (unsuccessfully – it spread on your lips widely).

“so? i’d like to accompany you to whatever. even if you were offering me to clean all the cages or dig through trash” his nonchalant voice rang in your head and you had to breathe in. why was he like this…?

“well, luckily for you it’s none of that. i’m going shopping for supplies. food, toys, bowls, medical equipment, all of that. i just figured… i’d ask if you wanna tag along” your voice grew small, overtaken by sudden shyness.

“of course. is that a date?” his question was followed by a somewhat nervous laughter.

“yeah, sure” your voice was calm, emotionless even. however, inside you suddenly got all warm and giddy.

“great, i’ll see you later then!” you could swear that what left his lips was a squeal but he hung up so quickly you couldn’t really process it.

and neither the fact that you haven’t given him any details.

and yet, somehow, you managed to meet him. after texting him the address, mingyu arrived at the parking lot.

he rushed to you, a huge checkered scarf covering his cheeks.

“i hope you hadn’t been waiting for too long! it’s freezing cold, let’s go inside!” he gasped dramatically “also, hi”

“hi!” you grinned and met his joyous expression. he looked really adorable all cozied up with a puffy hat and red nose.

snow swirled around you two before you reached the store, pleasant warmth hitting you upon entering the building.

you grabbed the cart and whipped out your phone to look at the checklist you made.

“thank you for coming with me. these tasks can get a bit boring alone” you hummed, leading the way. aisles of animal food were spread out in front of you, different brands displayed on the shelves.

“oh, i heard that one is bad for animals, isn’t it? it contains too much wheat and it can be harmful” mingyu pointed at a specific, ruby colored bag. you looked at him amused, blinking in awe.

“what a smart cookie you are” you teased, nodding your head “and obviously as for sugar…”

“corn syrup” he puffed his chest and you giggled, walking up to the trusted brand displayed.

“and do you know which chocolate is the worst for dogs?” you asked with a cocky smile. his, on the other hand, dropped gradually. he pushed the cart closer to you and stood walked up closer.

“white, duh. it has the most amount of sugar!” he rolled his eyes, a confident smile forming on his lips.

“actually, no” you laughed and stood on your tippy toes to reach the animal food bag. it was just out of your reach, and your fingers merely brushed against it. “it’s the safest, if i dare say. it contains the least amount of cocoa powder which is very toxic for dogs-”

you felt mingyu’s hand on your waist as he stood behind you and reached for the item. you stuttered, falling flat back onto your feet.

“i, uh. that is why the darker and bitter chocolate is the uh, the-” you stumbled over your own words as he pulled down the food effortlessly. “the more danger it is to, um, the dogs.”

“hm. i didn’t know that” he tilted his head, canines poking out as he gave a smug smirk. you shook your head gently and huffed. so that was the game he was playing.

as he loaded five more of those bags into the cart, you tried to wipe out the memory of how gentle his touch was.

“okay, ma’am. what next?” he asked enthusiastically and you smiled, taking him by the arm. mingyu pushed the cart, following your lead.

“some toys and blankets. we are running out, you know how it is with the cats…” you sighed and showed him the target aisle. it was full of various colorful toys in different shapes and sizes. you kneeled down to the lowest shelf and grabbed a cherry-shaped squeaky toy. you looked up at mingyu, exchanging grins. “one thing i never do is limit myself when it comes to these. i like to think that, you know… pets are like kids. they definitely have their favorite toys and blankies. maybe this will be the one, you know?”

“you’re right. even my dogs have their faves” he hummed and kneeled down to match your level.

gently taking the cherry-shaped toy, he squeezed it once. it made a loud noise and your face flushed red with embarrassment. the man just laughed wholeheartedly at your cute reaction.

“look, you’re matching shades now!” he put it next to your face and you slapped his hand with a laugh.

“shut up”

you spent an hour or so in the aisle, goofing around with the silly toys. mingyu picked a lot of cute ones (and some ugly too - but you didn’t have the heart to tell him that), whereas you focused on warm blankets. all of them had small drawings of cats, dogs and different animals.

“before we go to check out, let me grab one more thing!” you announced suddenly, running off. mingyu was left flabbergasted but stayed in place, patiently waiting for you to come back. in the meantime he checked his phone and his eyes widened upon realizing a couple of… aggressive messages have been sent from wonwoo.

hello we were supposed to play today ?!

brother ?!?!?!?!

now hold on where are you

what the fuck

why and for what reason is your and YNS ICON BOTH IN THE SAME PLACE

MINGYU.

HELLO ??????

mingyu panicked, just remembering that wonwoo and him had the ability to see each other’s location on find my app. and, apparently, he had yours too. heart beating like crazy, finger hung up in the air above the keyboard, thinking of a response.

“boo!”

he yelped, almost dropping his phone. you let out a gasp and helped him catch it mid-air, eyes wide.

“i’m sorry! i didn’t think you- you’d get scared like a little girl” you choked through laughter, grabbing his arm. he let out a shaky breath and couldn’t help but laugh too; it was just too contagious. as you clutched your stomach, the cute sound escaping your lips, his phone started exploding with notifications.

“it’s… you caught me off guard, you jokester” he mumbled shyly as you calmed down, finally looking at him “and by the way, wonwoo knows we’re here right now”

he watched your eyes widen and smile drop. pointing at your face with a snort, he nodded.

“now that was funny” mingyu snickered and slowly started looking for the checkout.

“you’re going the wrong way! and also, what do you mean he knows?” you asked, snatching his arm before he could wander too far.

“he texted me” mingyu shrugged “i didn’t reply though. someone prevented me from doing that” he pointedly nudged your elbow and you rolled your eyes.

you arrived at the cashier, loading all the products at the pay desk. you were so focused on hiding the thing you’d snatched at last second that the words ‘cash or card?’ hit you too late.

“card!” you said loudly and whipped your wallet, looking for your credit card. when you finally found it amongst all the other cards, you put it to the register… but were met with a soft clink of plastics bumping.

mingyu put his card down first with a satisfied smile.

“consider it a non-anonymous donation for the shelter” he winked at you and started packing the bags. you blinked slowly, frozen. “chop, chop, y/n. the kitties are waiting”

“asshole” you grumbled and helped him put the stuff into bags.

you just grabbed a box of chocolates you snatched earlier. you thought that’s the least you can do to repay the favor. you put them aside and joined mingyu in packing the items into the car trunk.

“i’d love to help more but i promised something to wonwoo so i need to go” mingyu sighed, stealing a glance at you. you looked hesitant.

“it’s okay, you already helped enough. no one likes the shopping duty” you giggled and reached for the box. “i was gonna give that to you later but since you’re going, here”

you pushed the box of sweets into his hands a bit awkwardly but now he didn’t have the ability to decline since he was already holding them. he looked at you stunned, mouth slightly falling apart. his heart skipped like crazy.

“thank you for today. and you really didn’t have to pay, like i know you have a lot of money but…” you joked.

“hey, give me a call and i’ll buy the shelter for you” mingyu pursued his lips in a teasing manner and you just laughed.

realization sank in and your eyes widened.

“you don’t mean that” you huffed, shaking your head. that’d be too much for one person… realistically speaking, investment in the shelter (that wasn’t even yours) was just pointless. it was on the verge of closing for a reason.

mingyu got scared he pushed the line and made you uncomfortable. it sounded as if he was bragging about his money… do you hate him now? do you think he thinks he’s better than you?! just wanted to hide his embarrassment, trying to think of an excuse, answer, explanation… anything!

“i mean, thanks but… no, i mean… that’s…” you started stumbling over your words yet again that day. this man was going to be the death of you.

“you know, the offer stands. i’ll get going now, bye!” he blurted out hurriedly and leaned in.

his cold lips pecked your equally cold cheek and he walked away in a rush.

you watched him disappear into his car, snow falling on your face. frozen, you couldn’t believe what he just did – or rather, how awkwardly cute the gesture was.

a few, long moments passed before you closed the trunk with a loud, fond huff, fighting back a huge smile.

“...no, i won’t, mom” you groaned, drawing hearts and dogs in the snow with your free, gloved hand “he’s just helping me, that’s all. since you, by the way, couldn’t”

“first of all, im busy. he recorded his parts earlier. and i think he was the first one to do so, which is… strange” wonwoo’s voice echoed in your ear “second of all, even if he’s just helping, he’s a man”

“so are you” you snickered and doodled a small cat with glasses, reassembling wonwoo.

you looked up with a smirk and met mingyu’s amused face.

“wh– well, yes. he’s… just… i don’t appreciate that. at all” he sighed and you could practically see him fixing his glasses in sheer frustration.

“what? me making friends with your friends?” you teased and mingyu drew a small puppy next to cat wonwoo. you watched him do that with a cute smile.

“he’s just a friend?” wonwoo asked and you fell silent, feeling caught in his trap.

mingyu sent you a puzzled look and you just shook your head.

“don’t you have games to play? shut up” you grunted and lifted your phone to hang up. “love you, stinker”

“now that was ru–” your best friend’s voice was cut off by you ending the call.

a small crease formed between mingyu’s brows as his finger halted movements in the cold snow. ‘love you’. something bitter spread out over his heart and he couldn’t put his finger on it but–

“he’s such a mom” you let out a deep sigh and tucked your phone away, standing up “let’s go?”

obviously after your shopping date with mingyu, wonwoo was all over it. asking questions and making comments, he was either preventing you from further meet ups or encouraging them. suggesting some, even. you couldn’t crack this sneaky cat’s plans but one thing was for sure: he planted an idea of having a crush in your head. and you weren’t sure how to deal with that.

mingyu grabbed the leash of four dogs. he had three larger stray dogs: a beige and black stray called toffee, a gray-furred tramp who looked just like he was taken out from lady and the tramp, and nami who was a somehow ginger and somehow blonde furred dog that loved to steal. he was also walking bunny, the jumpy samoyed he had met before. you, on the other hand, were walking with six smaller dogs as that was the limit. your group contained of two chihuahuas that were taken away from a puppy mill, minnie and mickey, a chaotic abandoned shih tzu named rocket, a white stray with couple of black spots which were the reason for naming him pongo (mingyu started noticing a pattern of the animals being named after movie characters… and he found it beyond cute), and last but not least – a three legged dachshund that was named slinky (after the famous toy dog in toy story series).

“you name them all?” mingyu asked as you began the walk to the nearest park. usually volunteers from high schools would come and do this but due to it being the winter holiday, most of them were unable at this time. hence why you asked mingyu to help (which sounds rather silly but is the truth).

“usually. when people drop them off, they rarely have name tags. we often give them cute names or names after characters because… you know, look at pongo. he’s not a dalmatian but just looks like a shrunken version of him” you smiled, snow crunching under your feet. the dogs were calm; even though they were excited — they loved whenever they could leave the shelter — they were trained to be calmer on such walks.

you looked at him shyly, poking your cheek with your tongue.

“and also i’m a firm believer that they need cute names. and i just like animated movies, sue me” you murmured and he giggled at your adorable face.

mingyu tilted his head suddenly and pursed his lips.

“but there are some other cats and dogs not named after anything, right?” he pointed at rocket. “like this little fella here”

you giggled. the cold bit your cheeks gently, falling snow swirling in front of your eyes.

“that’s right. rocket or like… coco, have you met coco?” you asked and he shook his head. even if he did, he probably wouldn’t know. “some of our pets got here because their owners had to part ways. maybe they moved out, maybe they were too sick to take care of… they don’t always tell us. so we just take them in. or sometimes we just take strays that do have name tags on… like teddy! we also call him stinky but, uhm… he doesn’t stink, don’t worry”

“i see” he hummed, rubbing his hands. the dogs were really friendly and calm, making him smile in amusement. and, regarding stinky… maybe that’s just a nickname. you called wonwoo ‘stinker’ earlier…

“my three babies wouldn’t be so peaceful. by the way, i think my parents are coming over soon! if they take aji, bobpul and bobtori with them” mingyu puffed his chest out like a proud dad and you were weak in the knees for such a sight. “i’ll send you photos”

“you better! they seemed so cute” you grinned.

“do you have a pet at home?” he asked, chilly air filling his lungs.

“ah, i wish. i’m too busy to have one on my own. but these are my kids, so i don’t mind” you grinned.

the walk was peaceful, the doggies were very obedient, as usual. you even made small snowmen – well, snowdogs – with mingyu. you giggled as the pets sniffed the creature you made out of snow.

the way your hands occasionally brushed against each other as you shaped the snow dog’s face made you blush… and you thought he was red too but you blamed it on the cold.

mingyu was rolling balls of snow to form the body of a dog and his four-legged friends were running after him, a chaos of swooshing tails and mingyu’s cute giggles causing you to grin.

you managed to make four snowdogs and you snapped a picture of your masterpiece before heading back since some of the smaller dogs started shivering a bit.

“we’ll warm them up” you hummed. “and, us too. i’m taking you to grab some hot tea and i don’t take no as a refusal”

mingyu just sighed dramatically but nodded.

“sure, whatever you– ah!”

“rocket!” you yelled out as the dog suddenly jolted forwards. it saw a squirrel coming down from a nearby tree and decided to chase it. other dogs must’ve caught his energetic spirit and followed him, dragging you two.

“what’s-” mingyu was flabbergasted but suddenly saw the ginger rodent running away.

“ya, guys! stop!” you ordered with a stern voice. and it was just pure chaos.

rocket stopped, his leash getting tangled with your legs. the squirrel made a u-turn and started running the other way. toffee was the first one to notice and jumped forward, causing mingyu to fall on his back.

“mingyu!” you gasped and wanted to help him stand but the restraining material tied around your legs caused you to tremble when slinky stood between you two, which you haven’t noticed before. mingyu sat up and you yelped when you lost control over your own limbs.

mingyu tried to catch you but you just fell next to him. snow stuck to your clothes and the dogs who had been pulled by the sudden crash continued nagging incessantly.

“sorry, i’m sorry” you groaned and tried to stand up but tramp made a circle around you two and started barking, entangling you further. you got pushed onto mingyu, who fell onto the slippery ground again. your hands rested against his chest as you almost fell on him fully.

you locked eyes with him and one look was all it took for you to start laughing out loud.

“i’m so, so sorry! i don’t know what has gotten into them! they never… react that way!” you gasped out amongst your giggles and mingyu just kept laughing.

you carefully unwrapped yourself (with mingyu’s help) from the leashes and he helped you stand up, offering his gloved hand. then, finally, you began to make your way back to the shelter.

what you only noticed after opening the main gate was that you were holding hands with mingyu. you must have forgotten to let it go… and he hadn’t said anything.

as much as you loved winter and cold days brought you comfort, today was a literal reflection of your mood. dark, freezing, distanced.

with shivering hands you dialed wonwoo’s number, the cold stone steps making the shaking of your body worse. your tears were probably frozen on your cheeks, nose runny both from crying and the temperature.

“y/n, i’m kinda busy. what’s up?” your best friend picked up and you could hear various voices in the background. he was probably out, it was a friday night after all.

“sorry, it’s nothing, then” you said, trying not to sound off.

“are you su– ya, asshole!”

“hi y/n!”

you subconsciously smiled upon hearing mingyu’s excited voice. you sniffed and pulled yourself together.

“hello, mingyu. how are you?” you asked, staring at the swirling snow in front of you.

“you sound a bit off… is everything okay?” he asked, genuine worry in his voice. that was your breaking point and you couldn’t help but break down again into tears, trying to pull away the speaker “wa… y/n, you’re crying? hey, what’s happening? wonwoo-!”

your best friend was quick to snatch his phone back.

“y/n, what’s going on?” wonwoo asked, voice dropping due to worry.

“it’s nothing, i just… everything just sucks today and i’m stuck” you choked through your tears “at the- the shelter”

“fuck. mingyu, have you had anything to drink?” wonwoo asked, a soft rustle coming through the speaker.

“no, i was supposed to drive chan home” mingyu’s voice sounded further away but you could still faintly hear him. frostbite started sending needle-like pain in your hands, skin drying.

“go get y/n then. i’ll order an uber for chan, he’ll understand. y/n, stay there, okay? mingyu is on his way” wonwoo told you gently. “stay on the phone with me”

“nooo, you’re busy. don’t worry, it’s just my dramatic period ass” you mumbled, wiping your runny nose. the sole thought of mingyu seeing you in this state made you cry even harder. there goes a good impression.

“hey, it’s fine. mingyu will be there soon… nooo, why are you crying even harder?”

twenty minutes later, a car pulled into the shelter’s parking lot and you heard the creak of the main gate being open. there were the crunching footsteps of someone running in the snow, dogs barking at the sudden presence and… then, finally, mingyu stood in front of you.

“aigoo…” he whined upon seeing you all shivering, red faced. eyes swollen, nose as vibrant colored as a cherry, cheeks wet. “let’s get you home”

you shook your head.

“i locked myself out. with keys to the shelter, my car and my place. i’ll get them back in the morning when the first shift comes in” you said, voice hoarse. mingyu took off his puffy jacket in a hurry and put it over you before you could protest. then, he also took off his scarf and hat, forcing them gently on you. they were undoubtedly oversized and fell on your eyes but you looked cute. and needed warmth, of course.

“my place, then. don’t protest, we need to warm you up” he ordered and reached his hand out. once you grabbed it, you both gloveless, he hissed at the coldness. “asap”

“asap baby…” you hummed the newjeans song and mingyu laughed, helping you stand up. then, he wrapped an arm around you and quickly wiped your cheeks.

“you’re freezing. come on”

you let him guide you to the car. mingyu wasted no time in driving back home (not before turning up the seat settings so it warmed up too), already thinking of what kind of soup he’ll be able to cook for you from the stuff he has in his fridge.

“do you like miso soup? i was planning on preparing it for my parents’ arrival so i have ingredients” mingyu asked, finally stopping at red so he whipped his head to look at you.

a huge grin bloomed on his face, canines poking out.

you were fast asleep, snoring softly. your breath fogged the window that you leaned your head against.

you stirred awake, a sudden aroma hitting your nose. you slowly opened your eyes and stretched. you were… comfortingly warm. looking around, you realized you’re… in a bed. in a bed that was not yours. furrowing your brows, you suddenly remembered. your period in the morning… the bad news… you locking yourself out… existential crisis… and finally, calling wonwoo… and mingyu. mingyu arriving, picking you up and then-

oh.

you were in mingyu’s bed.

it was comfy, warm and very snuggly. lots of pillows and fresh covers. you noticed you even had a hoodie on, it was definitely his. it was a plain navy shaded gap hoodie with a zip on, he probably took the first one and quickly put it on you for more layers so you warmed up. but why did that make you all warm inside?

you slowly put your feet on the floor, meeting a fuzzy carpet. you looked around the room and smiled at how pretty it was.

the sudden feeling of being an intruder in this place washed over you, causing you to head out.

you decided to follow the delicious smell that woke you up and you were led to the kitchen. it was quite big, well organized and– then it hit you. wonwoo and mingyu were roommates. that thought had originally intimidated you: countless times you were over and you just greeted each other. you were just a friend of a friend.

and now… he was something more than a friend. at least, you want him to be.

“hi” his voice called out and you shot him a small smile.

“hi” you replied, watching his tall figure roam around the kitchen. he looked so comfortable, just like a fish in the water.

“i made some soup, i was planning on cooking it up tomorrow either way” mingyu said and placed down two bowls. “you woke up just in time”

you hummed and sat down, wrapping the big hoodie tighter around your body. mingyu noticed and only smiled a bit. then, he sat down next to you.

the goldenish liquid sat there steaming, pieces of emerald colored scallion and wakame algae. tofu was swimming in there happily as well, along with some mushrooms.

your stomach let out a loud growl, almost sounding like one of the dogs at the shelter. you exchanged amused looks with mingyu and were about to dive in when your hair got in your way. it must’ve fallen from behind your ear.

before you could reach and tuck it away, a larger and rougher hand did it instead.

you looked up and locked eyes with mingyu, who leaned a bit closer to help you out.

your heart skipped a beat and heat rose to your face. your head was working like a steaming machine: why, why, why did you feel this way? why did such a small gesture make you all fluttery inside?

because it was more than a silly crush. it struck you. you’re seriously in love. love was such a weird word, very basic in english. greek itself had at least 8 types of love, like eros, agape, pragma or ludus. and for sure one of them reflected how you felt about mingyu. head over heels, yearning, in love, even a bit intimidated; even wave to earth sung about love that endured through hardships, and how it could be seen in small things. because who would make you soup? who would want to spend their free time just to help you? to care about you in a way that’s intimidate but not sexual?

“eat up” he hummed and brought his hand back, reaching for his utensils. you realized time froze only for you and mere had seconds passed, so you nodded and decided to consume the meal.

a variety of tastes hit your tongue and you just let out a dramatic groan, sending mingyu a thumbs up. you almost wolfed down the soup but tried to savor the effort he put in. hunger was stronger, though.

“this is so delicious, oh my! you never told me you’re such a talented cook!” you grinned. you tried to be normal, trying not to act in a way that screams ‘i like you!’. now that you were aware, it suddenly became like a part of you that you had to carry.

mingyu seemed flustered, shrugging shyly.

“it’s just a soup” he mumbled and you swore you saw a hint of red on his face. you let out a deep sigh.

“either way, it was the best thing i’ve ever had in a while. wonwoo is one lucky guy” you chuckled and mingyu nudged your arm, giggling.

“now, tell me. what’s up? something tells me it wasn’t just you locking yourself out” the man asked softly, going back to his soup. he still had some left.

“it’s just… everything fell on me, you know. i also just started my period this morning so i’m extra emotional. the keys were the breaking point but… i received some news earlier today. one of our doggies had to be put down and… it just made me extra sad. teto was with us for almost seven years. i wish he could’ve passed in a loving home– fuck, i’m gonna cry again” you scoffed, looking up to avoid the tears from gathering. taking a deep sigh and allowing yourself to calm down, you felt the comfortable silence between you two.

you swallowed and returned to look at him with a sad smile.

“no tears left to cry, hopefully. i cried a whole river while waiting for you” you tried to crack a joke. mingyu mirrored your small smile but pure compassion was written all over his cute face. “and then the keys… and i just felt so helpless. and cold… and you know, there’s only a week left to get the money and we still need a lot to afford all the bills. just one word, in the end: overstimulated. so don’t worry, i’m fine”

mingyu listened to you, his ebony irises holding a small, sad glint. you could see the tiny crease between his dark eyebrows. he really cared.

suddenly he scooted closer and trapped you in a warm, tight hug. your face got smushed into his arm and you hesitantly wrapped your arms around his waist.

you stayed silent, not knowing how to respond. this was nice.

he rubbed your back softly but you sensed some nervousness in his movements. maybe he was scared he crossed the line.

“thank you” you whispered.

once you did that, his fingers halted momentarily. then, he rubbed subtly bigger circles on your back with more confidence yet in a solacing manner.

you found yourself sitting on the couch, rubbing bobtori’s belly gently. wonwoo looked at you with a soft smile.

“thank you for agreeing, i couldn’t ask anyone else” mingyu said, putting on his elegant shoes. well, he looked very handsome.

“no biggie. consider it a favor after all the help you gave me” you hummed and wonwoo sent you a confused look. you just shook your head.

“another thing is that i just don’t trust my other friends. maybe cheol, he’s such a dog dad. but he was busy today” mingyu sighed and brushed his hair back again. “okay, i’m ready. we’ll pick up my parents, eat out before finally coming back. they are sleeping at our place so don’t get shocked when we’ll return with them… you know what i mean…”

“you’re rambling. let’s go” wonwoo sighed and you saw a flash of a smile on his face.

“yes,, i’ll call you if anything happens. have fun, boys!” you grinned and watched wonwoo push mingyu out of their place. he was looking over his shoulder and his mouth was open as if he wanted to say something but the sound of doors falling shut behind silenced him.

you hummed happily and stretched your legs on the couch, wrapping yourself in a blanket.

mingyu asked you to watch over his dogs for a night out with his parents. you felt proud he chose you… even if he had other friends.

you came to an agreement with yourself that you shouldn’t do anything about your growing feelings towards mingyu. it had been five days since mingyu picked you up and took care of you… and your realization. it was mindblowing how such a simple gesture of someone tucking your hair away could make you aware.

logging onto the netflix account that you shared with wonwoo, you decided you’d watch an episode or two of your favorite series and walk the dogs out. they were really cute, just like mingyu. but seeing the three white, fluffy dogs had made you laugh. kpop idols have a soft spot for them, apparently.

you took them on a walk while the evening sky made the city turn into a purple lake. deciding to keep the walk short and sweet, you grabbed a snack as well and just let yourself immerse in the peaceful atmosphere of the walk. unlike the one you shared with mingyu and your animals. he had been wrong though, his girls were very calm.

wave to earth played in your ears, shutting off your brain completely. you just walked mindlessly through the nearby park in the neighborhood, observing the dark shades blending, creating a starry sky above you. once city lamps lit your way and you decided to head back, to warm up. it was slightly windy, the weather pinching your cheeks like an old aunt that hadn’t seen you in a while. and even though you had dressed up the dogs (mingyu insisted), you’d forgotten your hat. you were just wearing a checkered scarf.

you looked down at it and caressed it with your free hand. brows knitting, you realized it wasn’t yours. well, you probably took a random one from the stand.

returning back, you warmed up the dogs a bit and dried them off with a towel since it was snowing a bit. you ate your snack and sighed, reaching for your phone.

deciding to check if someone donated money, you saw that mingyu was calling you.

“hello?” you answered, surprised. it’d been only two hours since they left.

“hi, i’m totally not checking how are you but… how are you?” he breathed out and you huffed a laugh.

“i’m fine. and your babies too, we just got back from a walk” you smiled and observed the three white as snow dogs roam around the room.

“good, okay. we’ve just had our meal and we’ll gonna grab some dessert. do you want anything?” mingyu asked and your mouth fell ajar. how was this man still single?

“i, uh… that’s really sweet of you, mingyu. but i don’t need anything, go back to your parents” you giggled. here are that swarm of butterflies in your stomach.

“riiight. i’ll take something either way. i’ll text you once we’re on our way back. and i’ll drive you home” he announced and hung up before you could protest.

“asshole” you grumbled with a smile and noticed aji jumping to join you on the couch. “do you want to watch something too? you won’t believe this, girl. there’s this cartoon show for dogs, mhm?”

you put on bluey and snuggled into the couch. you read somewhere that bluey was dog-friendly: the cartoon is made with such a color palette that dogs can enjoy it too (considering their different way of perceiving colors). you had tested it on some of the dogs at the shelter - whereas some watched, intrigued, like small kids, others didn’t care. maybe it depended on the personality.

you felt your eyelids getting heavy, especially with aji’s comforting weight on your tummy, and gradually, they closed. a quick nap wouldn’t hurt anyone.

mingyu stepped in and wonwoo went to show mingyu’s parents the guest room. in the meantime, he went to look for you since you hadn’t replied to his texts. he heard a quiet noise coming from the living room and walked in, noticing the tv was on. then he saw it.

you were asleep with his dogs snuggled with you. of course, bobtori woke up once she heard the doors opening but was too lazy to run up and greet him.

his heart swelled in his chest, a smile blooming on his features. he watched you snore quietly.

quiet footsteps brought him back to reality and he saw his mom.

“oh, she’s the friend you like?” she asked and giggled. “she’s cute!”

“mom” he groaned, feeling like an embarrassed teenager. sure, he’d mentioned you a couple (a lot) of times but–

“what? and our babies like her! that’s just so cute. i wanted to meet her but let her rest, don’t wake her up with your clumsiness” she shot him a sweet smile and patted his shoulder before walking away. “good night, son”

“sleep well, mom” he hummed and watched her walk away. then, his gaze returned to you. he was debating whether to wake you up or not but aji suddenly stirred awake. she jumped down and barked, mingyu’s eyes widening.

“shush, aji, everyone is asleep” he whispered and kneeled down. aji wagged her tail excitedly and leaned on his knee. “hi baby, i hope you were good”

“they were angels”

mingyu looked up and saw you rubbing your eyes, bobpul licking your face. he gave you a toothy grin and scratched aji behind the ears.

“i’m glad. sorry for waking you up” he said, remembering his mother’s words.

“it’s okay” you hummed and turned off the tv, fighting a yawn.

“do you want some hot chocolate?” mingyu asked suddenly. you nodded, your hand gently landing on top of bobpul’s head. you petted her gently with love in your eyes.

mingyu sighed, the sight in front of him just heartwarming. he could get used to that.

“how was it?” you asked, turning your attention to him (yet you didn’t stop petting the dog). you noticed he’d taken off his blazer and loosened up the buttons of his shirt.

“really nice. oh, right, there’s some food i brought. and my parents are asleep in the guest room, wonwoo probably in his already, too. you know how he is after social gatherings” mingyu chuckled and started working on the hot beverage

“out like a baby, i know” you laughed and the thought of mingyu’s parents presence suddenly made you nervous. “i’ll keep going once we drink it. i don’t want to take up any more space or the free time you set aside for your parents”

“no, it’s fine! don’t worry about it now” he looked over his shoulder and adored you for a moment. then he returned to the hot choco recipe his dad taught him. he heard you shuffle around but focused on the milk in the saucepan, turning it up so it was on a medium heat.

next, he whisked cocoa powder and a bit of sugar. while the beverage was still warm, he added chocolate chips that added more flavor. whisking again, the faint sound of metal clinking mixed with your footsteps. he felt your presence behind him before he felt your soft breath hitting his arm. you were peeking curiously and exchanged looks with him.

he reached for vanilla extract and added a splash to add a little more sweetness.

“can you get me two cups?” mingyu asked and you nodded. you grabbed your favorite mug (of course in a shape of a dog’s head, mingyu thought with a huge grin) and one that had some flowers on it.

he poured the liquid from the saucepan directly into the cups, not even spoiling a single drop.

“whipped cream?” he asked, looking at you for an answer. you nodded enthusiastically, sparkles of joy in your eyes. you felt like a little kid at christmas.

mingyu added the whipped cream and finished it with chocolate sprinkles on top.

“wait!” you gasped and opened their snack drawer. at first he was surprised you knew where it was but then he remembered you’d been here countless of times.

you grabbed a blue colored packet and shook it with a chuckle.

“i bought it once on my way here” you hummed and opened it. those were… animal shaped marshmallows.

mingyu closed his eyes and scrunched his face. could you get any cuter?!

once he opened them again, you were just finishing up placing the sweet decoration.

“and done. let’s sit down” you offered and grabbed the mugs, placing them down on the table. you had a sense of deja vu – sitting at the table in the same place, something warm in front of you. mingyu next to you and a panoramic view of the city surrounded by night darkness.

mingyu was looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite decipher.

“what?” you asked softly, taking a sip of the hot choco. the sweetness exploded on your taste buds, making you hum in sheer delight. “ah, that’s delicious”

he suddenly gulped, putting down his cup with a soft clank.

“i think i like you”

the silence was so loud you could hear wonwoo’s snoring from his room.

panic settled in mingyu’s body after realizing he blurted it out loud. he was just thinking about how caring you were towards his dogs and how pretty you were and… it just slipped out. his pupils were blown wide, chest rising up and down irregularly in panic.

he felt your hand brush against his shoulder before you shook him.

“hello?!” you whisper-yelled, him finally snapping back to reality. “i was saying: ‘are you serious?’”

mingyu blinked slowly, unable to look away from your e/c eyes. he nodded slowly, almost hesitantly. your face broke into a smile, a visible wave of relief washing over you.

“mingyu, listen. i like you too. i realized it a while ago. don’t freak out, okay?” you giggled upon seeing his face twist in shock. his mouth opened and closed simultaneously like a fish out of the water, brows furrowed.

“you like me?” he repeated. a loud snort left your lips.

“dummy, you always were my type. i think i’ve had a crush on you ever since i bumped into you for the first time in the hallway. i was just too shy to strike up a conversation. but now that we got closer i just… the feelings got more serious” you explained slowly, calmly. it was comforting, the silence of the room combined with the warm lighting of the kitchen. “because what do you mean a busy kpop idol would spend his free time with me? picking me up while i’m locked outside in the other side of the city… or helping me and the animals i take care of, especially cats, of which you are terrified of”

“you noticed?” he breathed out shyly, a deep red shade decorating his cheeks.

“i’ve dealt with people scared of cats before and you perfectly fit the description. that’s why we finished early that, i let you go out of pity” you giggled and took your arm away. “what i’m trying to say is that... you have a really pure heart and because of that, my own heart is going crazy”

“are you insane? it’s you who’s the kindest person i’ve ever met” mingyu was flabbergasted, shuffling closer. the hot choco was slowly getting cold, the sugary dog-shaped marshmallows dissolving in the liquid. he grabbed your hands and drew circles on atop of them “you are such a beautiful human being, i aspire to be as kind as you. there’s love in everything you do, you care about the pets like they are your own kids and i just–”

“just kiss already, brats”

you both jolted up from the sudden voice.

mingyu’s dad carried on walking and ignored you two, passing you by. he grabbed a glass and filled it with water, and then as if nothing happened, slowly padded back to the guest room. you kept staring at the dark corridor from which he had suddenly appeared, making sure he was gone. only when you heard a distant soft click of the door closing did you turn your head slowly to mingyu.

once you locked eyes, you two burst out laughing. you leaned forward, resting your head on this shoulder. his chest was vibrating with laughter, the cute sounds of his chuckles making you laugh even more.

“he’s right, i should kiss you. but i wanna do it properly, if you don’t mind” he said after he calmed down a bit. you leaned away, tilting your head curiously.

“fine. let’s go on a date, then. no helping me, no shelter. just… a normal date” you decided, puffing your chest out. his eyes twinkled with excitement as he nodded eagerly.

“deal. now let me drive you home” mingyu hummed and grabbed the cup.

maybe he was hallucinating but he thought one of the marshmallows melted and shaped into a heart.

mingyu was staring at you in awe, literal hearts in his eyes. he couldn’t take his eyes off you, still not quite believing that you were currently on a date with him. additionally, he finally got to see you in something else than work attire or jeans. you had put on a pretty black dress and some jewelry that shone in the candle light.

“admit it, you’re whipped” you chuckled and heard your phone buzz from your purse.

“no, i’m casually admiring. totally normal” he hummed and nodded. “shall we get the bill?”

while mingyu settled the check, you quickly went to see the notification. your eyes widened.

you heard him stand up and walk up to you.

“is everything okay?” mingyu asked, slightly worried. you just nodded, standing up with a slight smile.

“let’s go outside”

once you were dressed up in your winter coat (and mingyu’s scarf that apparently was the one you accidentally put on before - and took it home, unaware), you strolled down to another place to get some dessert.

it was the end of december, so the city was prettily decorated with ornaments. fairy lights shone with a yellowish glow, underlining the falling snow. people were walking around you, their chatter sounding in the background.

you took mingyu by his arm, snow crunching underneath your feet. the moon was also visible this night, curiously peeking from behind a cloud.

“you said you were just casually admiring, hm?” you asked tauntingly, causing him to frown. some snowflakes landed on his dark hair.

“duh. i totally casually normally like you” he answered.

“riiiight. and the money transfer that was made last minute by an anonymous donor on the funding site was, perhaps, not someone i know?” you laughed, peeking at him curiously.

mingyu bit his lower lip to prevent himself from smiling. oops.

“listen, i… sorry if that’s weird i just…” he stuttered “truth be told… i’m kinda crushing on you, heavily”

“i noticed” you snickered and he just rolled his eyes.

“uh, yeah. it was me.” he added shyly. but he’ll keep one thing to himself, though.

he already made the money transfer when you two and wonwoo went out to eat. he just set it to go through at a later time, so it was made during the last, final day of fundraising. he didn’t want it to seem suspicious but he had no clue it’d turn out like this. that you’d connect the dots so fast and, well, on a date with him.

“mingyu?”

he blinked twice and stopped in his tracks once he noticed you stood in place.

“hm?” he hummed, frowning.

you sent him a warm smile and before he could realize, you were standing on your tippy toes.

your hands slid up to interlace behind his neck, your soft but a little cold lips brushing against his.

“thank you” you whispered, not quite kissing him yet. “for everything”

he closed the very minimal gap between you two and kissed you gently, sending shivers down your spine. you felt warmth and the slight taste of wine you had shared earlier.

but most of all, you felt love.

svt mlist | event mlist

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