#the final words of your journal page

[connorsui]

If your passions called, Simon would answer. Boxes arrived while he was gone, filled with fresh journals for your poems, new pens for your writing, and all kinds of baking supplies to spark your creativity. He wanted you to always feel his presence, even if he was half a world away, each package a testament to his unwavering affection. When he returned, you would often slip him small, handwritten notes—your own words of love and encouragement—folded neatly, and he’d keep them close to his heart, tucked in a pocket as if they were a part of him. The others joked about him looking like a:

“proper husband”

for always stopping to read your handwriting, touching every letter as if every word you wrote was a treasure on its own.

There were nights, long ones, when you’d catch him sitting at the kitchen table, leafing through a scrapbook you’d made during his deployment. Pictures of the two of you, your annotations in the margins, your thoughts and memories, capturing moments he hadn’t even noticed you were holding onto. He’d touch each page, almost reverently, lingering on the edges like he was afraid his touch might ruin the paper. And when you’d join him, sliding into his lap with your arms wrapped around his neck, he’d tuck his face into your shoulder, silent, holding you close as if you were the only thing grounding him to this world.

Simon never argued with you; never needed to. He believed in “happy wife, happy life” with a fervency others might never understand. If you didn’t like something, he’d change it without hesitation. If you felt uncomfortable going out he would take you back home in his arms, helping you out of your dress with gentle hands, making your favorite tea in the kitchen, casting you warm, lingering glances as you sipped your cup by his side with the prettiest smile he swears he has never seen before in his life.

There were times you’d tease him, testing the boundaries of his devotion with light-hearted remarks about your whims. But no matter what you said, he never wavered. If anything, his dedication seemed to intensify, his love quiet but resolute, unwavering in the face of your every wish. You could see it in his eyes, the way they softened whenever he looked at you, as though you were the only person in the world he wanted, needed. To Simon, you were perfection, and nothing you did could ever change that.

When it came to intimacy, Simon was utterly faithful. At night, his hands would roam your form reverently, memorizing every curve, every detail he’d missed in his months away. When you traced the veins on his neck, his breaths came out heavy, the weight of his love pressing down on him. Your touch left him trembling, his normally steady hands shaking as he held himself over you, eyes dark with an almost sacred devotion as he rocked into you with slow, deep movements that left him weak.

When you’d murmur his name, kiss his scarred knuckles, and hold him close, Simon felt himself unraveling in your arms, reduced to nothing but his love for you. His broad, muscular form sank against you, a sturdy weight softened by your warmth, and he’d surrender completely, letting you hold him, a silent confession of his trust and vulnerability.

In the stillness of those moments, he would remember a time when he hadn’t believed in softness when life had taught him only to take and endure. But now, in your arms, Simon Riley found a new truth: that he could give, could cherish, and, most of all, could love without fear. And as he drifted to sleep, wrapped in your love, he knew that he had finally found his purpose—not in battle, nor vengeance, but in this quiet, steadfast devotion to the woman who had taught him that he was worthy of peace.

[unceeled]

nanami kento never intended for your relationship to be the first page of his newest journal. he didn't even notice when he began documenting it with a black ink pen in a plain leather notebook—writing down the moment you finally agreed to be his, as if you hadn’t been smitten by him from the first time you laid eyes on him.

each passing page became a piece of you. his dilemma on buying you flowers filled the 14th page, and by the 34th, there was a polaroid of you holding your favorite flowers—this time, he knew with confidence. your trips together occupied a few more pages, and even more were dedicated to the places he dreamed of taking you. from losses to love, nanami wrote it all down. it was his best way of keeping you—of keeping what you shared. he wanted your love to remain forever, not only in his heart but also in his hands.

when the wedding bells finally rang and he wore a suit unlike his usual ones, nanami kento stood before you, journal in hand. he read from it, a love documented from the beginning to what felt like the end of the beginning. his vows were written as though he'd known all along that he would marry you. but no, his journal didn’t just record the start of your relationship or the journey leading up to that day.

what nanami kento had not expected was that he would end up documenting your entire story.

as he began the last page with your name, followed by a comma, he wrote down everything he planned for your future together—plans he wanted to set in motion as soon as he returned from his mission. plans he would have given to you immediately after.

"let me take you to malaysia?"

you read over and over again, desperately hoping for more to follow, for another page to turn. but there were no more words. no more pages. and nanami’s voice, his presence, would no longer carry past this page.

yet, it’s hard to be angry with him. because, in the end, nanami was always a gentleman. whether knowingly or not, he left you one final letter—a letter filled with love, just like every page in his journal. because maybe, just maybe, the journal wasn’t for him to keep your love. maybe it was for you to keep his—not only in your heart but in your hands, after all.

[rainrot4me]

Return The Favor

Summary: Stumbling in on your neighbor’s chopped up body, an unlikely friendship forms between you and Toby. Striking a deal, you agree to help the killer and his friends, buying them necessary prescriptions. But when one visit turns to multiple, Toby becomes curious, finding a not so subtle love note hidden away.

Characters: Ticci Toby x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Mentions of death, explicit description of a dismembered body, decomposition, death, gore, obsession, vomit, throwing up, blood (non-sexual), blood (sexual), vaginal fingering, degradation, biting, overstimulation, squirting, creampie, vaginal, choking, gagging, somnophilia, rough, Toby literally goes insane about you, virginity kink, first time, desperation

Words: 9.4k

A/N: This shit long asl I'm so sorry... Characters in this story are not canonical!

It’s said that when there’s a dead body nearby, your body can sense it before your brain can. 

It’s almost like instinct, a survival nature programmed into your brain. It’ll start with goosebumps and chills running all over your body as if you were being watched, this uncomfortable sensation that you just can’t rationalize. Then the anxiety sets in, body aching and sweating for no apparent reason but it just knows there’s something wrong. 

Finally, when you’ve finally choked it up to just being your imagination, that’s when you’ll smell it. Throat instantly closing and nostrils flaring at the putrid stench of rot and gore. It’s incomparable, no amount of food poisoning or disease compares to the sickness you feel in your stomach at the smell of a human body decomposing. Every instinct in your body pleading and begging you to get out of there, run as far away until you can’t breathe anymore. 

You would know. And it seemed like the boy huddled in front of you did too. 

There was no real reason for you to even be in this house in the first place, but your all-too-good heart guilted you into it. You had just come home from work, mind tired and body sleepy as you unlocked your front door, tossing your bag onto the kitchen table inside. It was well past midnight, the diner you worked at closing way later than normal, but at least you made some good tips. 

Sliding into your bedroom, you changed into more comfortable clothes, tying your hair back before stepping into your kitchen. You gripped the tiny journal lying on the counter, cracking the worn pages open to where you left off, scribbling your thoughts onto the paper. It was your nightly routine, journaling things you saw or did, a coping mechanism suggested by your therapist. It wasn’t for anything intensive, just minor anxiety and self-image problems, always having negative thoughts about yourself. It helped. Glancing up, you looked through the tiny window above your sink, a clear view of your neighbor’s back porch, Mr. Higgs, an older man who made it very difficult to be friendly. He was a hateful guy, always nitpicking your choice of decorations or specific outfits he didn’t find appropriate. A real sweetheart, obviously. 

But compared to his usual eight PM lights out, the living room lamp was still bright, shining directly through his open back porch door. That was odd. As long as you had known this guy, it wasn’t like him to be up this late, let alone be outside. Every instinct told you to just clean up and go to bed, his angry ass probably scooting off a raccoon or something. But you just couldn’t pass up that nagging feeling, your kindheartedness overpowering you. So, sighing, you tossed a hoodie on and slid out your back door, stepping down the porch steps into the cool grass.

You flinched as a flash of brown passed your vision, small and thin against the dark grass. Cooing, you kneeled down, holding your fingers out as Mr. Higg’s old cat, Addy, sniffed the air around you, pressing against your bare legs as she purred. The man was way too protective of his cat. Something was definitely wrong.

Standing again, Addy pranced away, meowing loudly behind you as your bare feet became wet against the midnight dew, grass sticking to your ankles as you walked, arms hugging yourself against the cold. This would probably just end with you getting told to mind your business and stomping back to bed upset, but it was the thought that counted. Gripping onto the porch rail, you stepped up his creaky wooden porch, knocking against the wooden frame of the open door.

“Mr. Higgs? Everything alright?” You called into the room, refusing to go in. There was no response, you knocked again after a couple of seconds. Still nothing. You gulped, rubbing your arms against your sides, nerves wracking you. “Okay. I’m coming in. Don’t get mad 'cause you didn’t answer me.” You called again, pressing past the door and wiping your wet feet on the welcome mat. 

The house was quiet, the only light being the lamp sat on a coffee table adjacent to the old couch. All the furniture had an older look like something out of the eighties, it made you cringe. “Mr. Higgs, are you home?” You shouted down the dark hallway, all the doors shut except for one at the end which you assumed to be his room. Hugging yourself, your legs felt anxious, your mind racing with all the reasons you shouldn’t walk down there. There was no reason for it, this was all just probably some old guy who forgot to shut his door, but you just couldn’t shake the feeling.

Taking a step down the hallway, that’s when it started. Those feelings, like your body can feel shouldn’t be there. The air suddenly grew thick, a nauseating feeling setting in against your chest, pressing down like a conscious weight. But you shook it off, telling yourself it was just you scaring yourself with all of those crime shows, but you should’ve known better.

The door was cracked, moonlight from the open shades pressing against the doorframe, your hand flat against the wood as you pushed the door open. Then came the smell. It was stout, a putrid funk that wafted against the walls, souring the room. The room was dark, pupils blown wide as they fought to see, hand sliding against the wall and searching for a light switch. Your body was tense, senses on high alert against the dark, breathing ragged against the awful stench filling your senses. Your eyes were beginning to water, wondering what in the hell could be stinking this terribly, until you felt the switch, flipping it on.

Your first instinct was to throw up, throat constricting and stomach tightening, but you just couldn’t move. You were petrified by the scene in front of you. Mr. Higgs was there, at least, what you could recognize of him. His head had been cleaved from his body, intensive amounts of blood staining his beige bedsheets. His cheeks were bloated, a gnarly purple color as his veins poked against his forehead, skin wrinkled and soaked in blood as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. They were yellow now, dark veins contrasting against the orbs as puss leaked from every hole on his expressionless face. The rest of his body was scattered, chunks of muscle shredded from his arms and hands like they had been cut off, legs more or less the same. His wide stomach was completely visible, his skin swollen and dark, bloated against the same liquids spilling from his pores. The blood was the worst part. It was just everywhere. Splattered on the sheets, the nightstand, even the walls, specks reaching the roof. You were so lost in your racing thoughts, your heart pounding heavily against your chest as you gripped the door tightly, knuckles white on the frame. You could feel the cold sweat drip down your brow, utter fear chilling your body. 

You wouldn’t have even noticed the tall boy standing in the corner if he hadn’t flinched, eyes wide and locked on you. He was lanky, easily taller than you and pale. No, not pale, more gray. He had curly brown hair that fell in front of his eyes, his freckled cheeks flushed against the bandages across his jaw. A pair of goggles rested amongst his curls, a dark mask covering his nose and mouth. He wore dark wash jeans loose around his hips and a heavier brown hoodie that was stained with dark blood. Oh God. The boy didn’t look much older than you despite his bruise battered skin. But he wasn’t moving, wasn’t talking, he was just watching. 

His hands were behind his back, shoulders scrunched against the corner of the dark walls as you pressed back off the door frame, breathing ragged. “Who the hell are you?” You grimaced, tone coming across a lot more confident than you felt. The boy flinched, not out of fear, more like a bodily reaction. He refused to answer, eyes scanning around quickly until he pressed off the wall, sliding to the shuttered window and pinching the blinds open, scanning the night without explanation. That’s when you heard loud boots stepping up the porch steps, head spinning quickly down the hallway. “Shit.” You heard him, the boy’s voice panicked and rough, his boots stepping quickly across the hardwood and into your vicinity. Panic strained you, head spinning back quickly before your vision was filled with his arms wrapping around you, palm slapping over your mouth as he pressed you to his chest. 

You tried to fight back, mumbled pleas against his hand as you shouldered his arms, your back pressed firmly against him. He was dragging you into the room, your feet dragging as you struggled, clawing his arms away but he never budged, practically unaware of the scratches you were leaving on his hands. “F- Fuckin’ quit-” He growled quietly, pressing open the small closet doors and dragging you both in, quickly shutting the door as you heard the boots grow louder down the hallway. A sliver of light shone through the crack in the door, leaving you just enough room to see the gorey scene as you pressed off of him, his muscled arms refusing to let you go.

“Toby?” A scratchy voice called into the room, the figure stepping through the door frame and into your line of sight. At his appearance, you froze completely, your body tense against the boy behind you. His arms gripped tighter, bandaged fingers digging into your cheek as he kept you quiet. He was horrifying. 

This man was taller than the one in the closet with you, pasty skin a sharp contrast against his dark messy hair. His eyes were wide, pupils dark against his reddened scleras. He wore a white hoodie, dark jeans covered just the same with Mr. Higg’s blood. But the worst part, the part that made your heart pump in your throat, was his smile. It was etched in, flesh torn upwards into a mocked smile, teeth exposed from the side of his cheek. The area was mangled, seemingly unhealed as blood dried against the cut. He almost made Mr. Higgs seem not that bad.

“Twitch, come on,” He called again, hands shoved in his hoodie pocket as he strolled around the room, kicking Mr. Higg’s severed foot out of the way. “I’m gettin’ tired. This guy had some good beers and I’m tryna get back home and drink ‘em.” He snickered, turning back out of the room and back down the hallway, his loud boots stomping against the old floors. Who you presumed to be Toby didn’t let you go, arms just as tight around you as you gripping his hoodie’s sleeves tight. “Fine then! If you’re gonna play fuckin’ hide and seek then I’m leavin’ your ass here!” He called throughout the house, your body only untensing when you heard the back porch door slam shut, loud boots thunking down the porch and out of earshot. 

You both waited a couple of seconds, heart thudding in your ears as arms slowly released you, palm unclasping from your mouth. Panicked, you slammed out of the closet, turning around quickly and facing Toby, back pressed against the nearest wall as you searched for something to defend yourself with. “D- Dumbass.” He grit, pressing out of the cramped closet and facing you, tugging at the sleeves of his hoodie. The stench of the room pressed harder than ever, making your head dizzy as you pressed out of the room and down the hallway, Toby quick on your heels. “Whoever the fuck you are, whatever the fuck you want, I’m sure Mr. Higgs didn’t have it. Why in God’s name is he in pieces in his bedroom?” You hissed, gagging as the image replayed in your mind, turning into his kitchen and wracking the cupboards. When you found a small plastic cup, you ran water in through the sink, chugging the stout liquid down as you calmed your breathing. Toby stayed in the doorframe, crossing his arms. You probably shouldn’t have let your guard down, knowing full and well what he had just down to your neighbor, but you figured if he was going to he would have already.

“It’s none of y- your business. I don’t k- kill innocents, so you s- shoulda just stayed home, m- missy.” He growled back, stuttering through the words. You tossed the cup in the sink, the plastic clattering against the metal as you turned to face him, running your hands through your hair. “Hard to when you guys so obviously left his door open. The bastards hounded me for years, you’d think I’d be happy about his death, but not fucking like that.” You hissed, leaning back against the counter and crossing your arms, bare feet cold against the porcelain tiles. “I mean, Jesus. And I mean, thanks and all for the save back there, but how is killing him and saving me any different? It’s just favoring one innocent over another.” Toby shook his head, sliding past you and tugging a drawer open, shovelling through old receipts until he found the stack he was searching for. He passed it to you, paper crinkling as you skimmed through, old pharmacy receipts for prescription medicine. 

“H- Had the old bastard bu- buying our meds. Paid h- him off and everything. Un- Until he started g- giving us coun- counterfeits, sellin’ u- us out. He h- had to pay u- up somehow…” He huffed, shoving his mask down off of his nose and under his chin, his thin lips chapped against the bandages hugging his cheeks. And of course, he was cute. 

“So he gets shredded?” You had to breathe through that sentence, throat tight with nausea. Toby nodded, a small smirk crooking at the corner of his lips. You grimaced, pressing off of the counter and through to the living room, the old furniture seeming a lot less homey now. You were going home, filing a police report, and praying to God these fuckers didn’t come back to get you instead. 

“U- Uh, might wa- wanna clean up, t- too,” Toby chuckled from behind you. You paused, confused as you looked around, stomach twisting as you looked down. Bloody footprints trekked through the kitchen behind you, a trail leading to your bare feet as you lift your knee, gagging at the sight of Mr. Higg’s blood coating your soles. Toby was laughing, the noise muffled against the ringing in your ears as you hunched over, stomach convulsing as you puked on the hardwood floors, your lunch from work coming back up. Head straining, you panted, wiping your lips. “Oh, s- shit, okay.” Toby hissed, sliding to your side and raising you up, hugging you close to his side. He drug you through the door, stomach still churning as you watched your footprints faintly appear beneath you, purposefully dragging them through the grass to get the blood off. You felt disgusting, giving no fight as Toby brought you to your porch steps, helping you up. He was so bipolar, angry and distasteful for one second, then cautious and endearing the next. It really was like you were dealing with a teenager. 

Addy circled your ankles, her dense fur tickling your skin and making you jump, Toby gripping your arms tighter. “Oh, hi kitty.” You cooed, breathing deep as you kneeled down, scooping her up into your arms as Toby helped you up the rest of the steps. Without asking, he slid open your screen door, helping you both inside as Addy purred against your chest, Toby wary as he stared at her. You dropped her on the floor gently, Toby sliding the door shut as you hunched over your sink, cleaning your mouth and grabbing a rag for your feet. Toby still eyed Addy, fidgeting his nails as he followed her. “Ever seen a cat before? She was Mr. Higg’s.” You chuckled, cleaning the soles of your feet off and tossing the rag into the sink, still feeling unclean. Toby nodded, rubbing his arms nervously as he looked back at you, smiling awkwardly. “Yeah. Us- Used to have one. T- They kinda sc- scare me now.” Smiling, you scooped Addy up again, petting her soft fur as you brought her close to the boy, his neck twitching nervously. 

How could this guy shred a man to pieces, but petting a cat was too frightening for him? You couldn’t understand. Digressing, you gripped his wrist, steadying the twitches as you placed his hand on her back, rubbing gently as Toby flinched, breathing quickly. Addy purred, unbothered by the action as he became more comfortable, fingers playing with her fur before he pulled his hand back, breathing deep.

You were too nice for your own good, too easy at giving the benefit of the doubt. Of course, you would find the redeemable traits in a murderer, heart hurting for this boy who was more or less the same as you. Groaning, you dropped Addy, crossing your arms. “Listen. What you did, it’s… For my own conscience, I can’t let it happen again.” You grit, circling your countertop and sitting on a stool, your journal tucked in front of you as you fidgeted with the pages. “If we can agree, I’ll buy your meds. I have a friend who can write me prescriptions, no questions asked. But I need you to understand, under no circumstances, are you allowed to harm me. I’ll call the cops.” Like the cops could stop these lunatics. But, you needed some type of leverage. 

Toby thought quietly, eyes narrowed as he flinched uncomfortably against Addy rubbing on his shins, purring loudly. If you could hold your end, there would be no trouble, but he had to know he could rely on you. “Th- The meds aren’t for m- me. My f- friends, they need ‘em to function, m- mentally… You g- gotta realize this is- is serious.” Even stuttering his voice was stern, arms crossed as he thought, contemplating. You nodded, brushing your hair from your face as you groaned, realizing how desperately you needed to learn to set boundaries. “I can get them. But you have to keep your end, too.” You hissed back, pinching your fingers nervously. Toby smiled, crossing his heart, literally. Rolling your eyes, you nodded, rubbing your face as you groaned. What the fuck were you even doing? 

“I’ll have them by the end of the week. Come later at night, cops’ll be swarming for weeks thanks to you.” Toby nodded, sliding over to the counter and gripping your journal, tearing a page out as he wrote the list of prescriptions you would need to get. It was a hefty list, some of that shit intense. “Abou- About that,” He slid his mask up over his nose, sliding the screen door open as he stepped out, chuckling. “Do- Don’t go outside. Gonna ma- make it look like a g- gas leak.” You could hear the smile in his voice as he shut the screen, sliding his hood over his head and peeling down the porch steps. Finally taking a deep breath, you stared at Addy, wondering what in the absolute fuck you were doing. Rest in hell, Mr. Higgs.

-

He made it look like a gas leak alright. The house was on fire in minutes, the bright orange flames lighting your room as you heard sirens in the distance, your other neighbors gathered outside their houses as you climbed into bed, groaning your displeasure. Cops and firefighters swarmed for days afterwards, investigating the area thoroughly, but never finding any remains of Mr. Higgs, his body buried somewhere far away. They eventually grew restless, the city quickly cleaned up the charred remains of the house and a new plan for construction was set in soon. It went over smoothly, no one even suspecting a thing. 

The days passed slowly, nervousness building as the end of the week grew closer, feet shuffling as you stood in line at the pharmacy. You got the doctor’s notes easily, already called in and waiting to be picked up as you were handed a small paper bag, the pharmacist eyeing you closely as you hurried out. Once in your car, you rummaged the sack, eyes wide as you read the dosage instructions on each little pill bottle. You read each bottle carefully, cringing at the names of the contents: Thorazine, Prolixin, Haldol, and even Aripiprazole. They were all high-end antipsychotics, the list of treatments for schizophrenia and mania, along with treatment-resistant depression. The last bottle caught your eye, a quick Google search told you it was for tourette's. So his twitching wasn’t just nervousness, huh. Shoveling the sack into your bag, you sped home, Toby well on his way as the sun set low.

The first week was easy, Toby in and out without so much as a hello, nodding his thanks as he bolted back into the woods, eyes dark and heavy. It was easy for you, moving along with your life despite the one night of the week. You felt easier, the boy quick about his stops with some chat, but never hanging around for too long, eyes always scanning the tree line nervously. 

As weeks passed, he grew more comfortable, you learned that he was quick about stopping due to his friends, their curiosity about you making him nervous about losing his ‘dealer.’ You learned to leave his meds on the counter, sometimes not even present when he would sneak in at the late hours of the night, your job taking precedence over your sleep schedule. But with all of this money being spent weekly on medicine, you had to pick up more time at work, everything being paid for out of pocket not to raise suspicion. You were sleeping more, journaling and your hobbies taking less importance until they were practically nonexistent. It was hard, your serving heart refusing to let you rest, making sure Toby got his medication is the most important thing. You were strained, to say the least. 

However, surprisingly, after a couple of weeks, Toby wasn’t in a hurry to leave. He had slid in like he always did, you sat at the counter eating your dinner as you scribbled through the pages of your notebook, summing up the previous days. You were exhausted, Toby making you jump slightly as he shut the screen door, rummaging through the paper sack. “G- Got any more?” He grinned shyly, sliding his mask and goggles off and tossing them onto the counter. You nodded to the fridge, an extra container of leftovers from the diner quickly opened in front of him as he shoveled it into his mouth. “It’s better heated up,” You laughed, shutting your journal as you slid off the stool, gripping the to-go container from him and popping it into the microwave. You both sat there awkwardly, Toby kneeling down to rub Addy’s back as she appeared beneath him, soft purrs echoing. He was still nervous, never petting her for too long before standing back up, the microwave beeping. The food came out steaming, sliding open a drawer and handing him a fork, Toby continued to shovel the food into his mouth. You hissed, holding his arm as the steaming food sizzled inside his mouth, it had to be burning him. “Oh. Y- Yeah, I don’t fe- feel pain. Th’s good, tho- though.” He grinned, slurping up more of the food. He acted like he hadn’t had warm food in forever, stuffing his face and barely giving himself time to chew. You rolled your eyes, chuckling as he ate.

The stays became longer after that, his excuse being he was hungry, continuously raiding your fridge until you began to have food ready for him, prepping his meals along with your own. Thirty minutes turned to an hour, to two hours, and then eventually through the night. He would crash on your couch, Addy curled in his lap as the television blared some old movie. That was one of the only times you didn’t see him ticcing, the cat acting as an anchor against his restless body. He looked truly comfortable, using your blankets and pillows to his advantage, beginning to invite himself to stay the night after a while. 

You sat at the counter, Toby snoring loudly as he laid face first into the couch pillow, scribbling into your journal. It was the one thing you had time for, having to get up early for work as the soft glow of the kitchen light lit the pages. Toby was practically pushing himself into your life, his lack of manners and curious mannerisms leading him to take initiative. You were grateful for his friendliness, giving great detail of his missions with his friends and explaining that whole situation. Even still, you were wary. 

But against your better judgment, your relationship with the killer was becoming less transactional. He brought you things to make for dinner, talked with you through your mutual sleepiness, and even took care of Addy when you were too delusional after work. For lack of a better word, he was becoming a friend, showing up for more than just his medication, even sometimes forgetting the bag and having to chase him down. He was infesting your life, arriving earlier than he should and leaving later than you cared for. The end of the week was becoming optional, the screen of your porch door sliding open nearly every night of the week Toby didn’t have a mission. It was annoying but in a comforting way, like you both were becoming closer naturally despite your differences. 

As you heard his snores, you groaned, rubbing your tired eyes as you began to write, letting your pencil guide on the page numbly as you wrote your thoughts. It wasn’t directed at Toby on purpose, but the further you got down the page the further your heart sank, hand fisted in your hair as you rested your elbow on the cold marble counter. “Ah, Jesus…” You grit, scribbling the final few words as you lean back, rubbing your head. The words weren’t lies, more of a hard truth you weren’t willing to accept, chalking it up that you were just tired and desperate. The words could have been about Toby, or they could have been about anyone, you didn’t really care. Sighing, you tore the page out, folding it and shoving it into the back of the book, closing the pages quickly. Sleep sounded much easier as you flipped the kitchen light off, turning the volume of the television down as you trudged upstairs to your room, giving one last glance to the snoring boy and his matching cat.

-

Toby knew his mishaps with you, his moral compass long forgotten the more time he spent inside your home. He told himself it was just easier, food and shelter at his disposal whenever, but he knew better. It was so much more than just picking up medicine for Tim and Brian now, it was a solid relationship, a bond that was forming in his eyes. 

It had been almost four months since the unfortunate death of your neighbor, a smile creeping every time he saw the charred flecks of wood buried in the overgrown grass. You had begun to leave the back door unlocked, reasoning that someone breaking and entering would be less of a hassle than him. That was what Toby really hooked onto the most about you, your humor about everything. Despite your hardships and the emotions you had to overcome, you held a caring heart, compassion always lacing every action. He found it admirable, your humor through your busy life. And, likewise, he did feel bad for making you work so much, tired eyes always hurting his heart whenever you were around. But, it wasn’t like he could get a job, so he helped where he could, cleaning and learning to cook for your sake. He needed this medicine, for his friend’s and his own stability, even at your expense.

You were already nestled at your spot on the counter, writing your thoughts in that damn journal. You barely even looked up as he entered, diving for the fridge as he scooped up Addy with one arm, her purs a nice vibration against his shoulder. Popping the container in the microwave, he leaned in over your shoulder, trying to catch a glance at your scribbling before you shoved him off, closing the book quickly. “Ah, ah, mind yours.” You smiled, forking your own food into your mouth. “O- Oh come on, [Y/N], just a pe- peak.” He smiled back, gathering his food as he began to eat, sliding onto his familiar spot on the couch. It was routine now: where you sat, what he watched, what you both talked about. He explained his latest mission with Masky in more detail than you enjoyed, pushing your food away as you groaned, hiding your face in your hands. You both laughed throughout the night before you whisked your food into the fridge, calling your goodnights before heading upstairs. 

Toby continued to watch the television, brushing Addy’s back with his bandaged fingers as he sat his empty container to the side. His curiosity nudging him, he raised up, tossing his trash before he slid to the counter, you all too confidently leaving your journal there. Slipping back onto the couch, he began to flip through the pages, listening closely for your footsteps as he read your entries, smiling as they dated all the way back to your high school years.

It seemed as though everything you thought spilt onto these lines, emotions erratic between every page as he realized just how much of a people pleaser you really were. All through your recent years, it was nothing but service, acting through the goodness of your soul until it felt sickening, fake almost. He cringed, flipping quickly through but finding nothing juicy, no deep dark secrets that he felt were interesting. Sighing, he closed the journal, standing to set it back onto the counter, until a slip of paper fell from between the pages. Smiling, Toby leaned down, arms twitching as he slid the journal back onto the counter, leaning against the marble as he flipped the paper open, reading carefully.

“Sometimes, when I think about it too hard, I get all emotional about myself. I know I put on a front, like everything I do I’m in charge of and can handle, always putting everyone around me first. But what if I wanted to be put first? I do so much for the sake of others but it never seems to be returned, never compensated for the mental strain. Well, maybe I want to. Maybe I want to be loved like I see others, rough and real. I have no clue how I even would, I can barely handle touching myself before I'm overwhelmed. But I just want someone else to take the reins, show me that I don't have to work my brain so hard and can just numb out. That's not too much to ask, right? Just someone who can love me, not some creep or one night thing, someone who cares. If I never ask for anything again, that would be it. Someone who wants me for me.”

He could have died. The brunette’s cheeks dark as he re-read the crumbled page, excitement coursing through him. In his mind, he wanted to storm upstairs and just rattle you then, showing you how good he could treat you. It was like a bomb had gone off, Toby having to pretend like him having a crush on you wasn’t achingly obvious, convincing himself he just didn’t know how to act around women. But now it was clear, his mind racing with a million wants and needs, body spasming under the excitement. 

Convincing himself to leave, he slipped the note into his pocket, body buzzing with excitement as he slid out your door. He would be back, like always. But this time, he would show you what you truly needed, what only he could give you. 

-

Like always, Toby left a note for the medication you needed to pick up, it sometimes changing week to week. Everything looked normal, the usual combination of pills reading off. But as you scanned the bottom, you groaned, shoving the paper into your pocket. Trilafon, Saphris, and… Plan B. As if your desperation for some affection couldn’t have gotten much worse, your heart twisted, a lump growing. Whether it be for some girl he was laying or a girlfriend he already had, you didn’t care, all you wanted was to get the medicine and go. Crawling into your bed sounded like a much more exciting activity than dwelling on the brunette, heart saddened in all the way you knew it shouldn’t. 

To make your night even better, Toby didn’t show. It wasn’t unusual, for him sometimes not to show up for days due to extensive missions. But a part of you longed to see him, especially after today, just to help your mind with the whole morning-after pill situation. So now, instead of imagining him surrounded by his friends on a mission, you imagined him towering over a girl. Strong arms holding her, body contorting to fit against hers… You could’ve been sick, shaking your head as you ate quickly and pressed upstairs, barely petting Addy before you slinked into bed, hauling the covers over your head. 

It was lonely on nights without his presence in your house. But especially tonight, thoughts racing uncontrollably to the point of tears, thick droplets streaking down your face as your chest hurt, longing for a body, any body, to hold close to yours. Maybe you really were just a transactional thing. 

-

Toby smiled as he trekked through the familiar stretch of woods to your house, heart racing in his chest. He had it all planned out, exactly what he wanted to do, his cock already twitching in his jeans. 

He hadn’t shown up tonight on purpose, hanging back at the mansion to take the best shower he could, Ben teasing him about how good he smelled as he was leaving. You had to be well in bed by now, body tired after working all day just for him. He would take care of you, showing just how grateful he was for how much you were giving up just for his friends and him. Pressing past the tree line, he smiled, pulling his hood down as all the lights in your home were out, signaling your retirement. 

Pressing up the steps, he slid the screen door open quietly, careful not to alert you as he clicked it shut. Stripping his hoodie, he tossed it onto the couch, Addy purring light against the cushions. It was warm in your house, black t-shirt hugging his arms as he untucked it from his jeans, climbing up the steps, his mask and goggles quick to come off next. 

He was too excited for his own good, boots stepping quietly against the old hardwood as he slinked to your door, fidgeting with the knob. A rush of your scent blew into his face, your perfume stout in your small bedroom, eyes searching around in the dark space for your bed. It wasn’t hard with your breathing, quiet snores making him smile as he leaned against your mattress, admiring your unawareness. You looked so peaceful, his bandaged fingers tracing your cheeks and brushing your hair from your face, your skin flinching under his touch. “Hi, baby…” He whispered, the pet name sounding right against his tongue as he referred to you, tugging the sheets down. 

Toby always knew how nice of a body you had, you sometimes sauntering around the house with shorts and a t-shirt and making his eyes trail just a little longer than normal. But now, under his cold hands, you were even more gorgeous. You were wearing an oversized shirt, a slight tug at the fabric revealing that you only had panties on underneath, you slightly stirring as his nails brushed your skin. The brunette was excitedly jittering, kicking his boots off as he climbed onto the bed, kneeling at your curled body sound asleep. You shifted, rolling onto your back as you breathed deep, stretching your arms before settling back into yourself. Toby could have died, your legs stretching out to rest around him, his cock twitching with interest against your now visible panties. A quiet sigh breathed through your lips.

That was all the invitation he needed. Running his cold hands under your shirt, he felt your warm skin and goosebumps rising as you squirmed under them. Your brows scrunched but Toby pressed further, running his fingers along your waist and up to your tits, palming the mounds gently as he smiled. It was crazy to him just how soft your skin was, not weathered or bruised from missions or nature, perfectly smooth under his axe-calloused hands. Pushing your shirt up to your chest, he gasped at your round tits, the weight so perfect in his hands as he pinched at your nipples, rubbing the nubs gently. Toby was never very sure of anything, always brushing through life at the command of others. But the one thing he was sure about? His love for boobs, especially yours. 

Nudging closer between your legs, he rested your knees on his thighs, leaning down to your chest as he popped a nipple into your mouth, sucking gently. The nub was hard against his tongue, slowly circling as he massaged the opposite one in his palm, pinching your nipple gently. That’s when you began to stir, hands sliding against the bed and unconsciously searching for the cause of your sensitivity. Lazy hands pushed against his face, soft groans echoing in the boy’s ears as he popped off your nipple and moved to the next one. Your hands fingered through his hair, tugging lightly until your eyes were beginning to flutter, your mind slowly coming alive. Toby let off your tit, kissing along your chest and licking a stripe between your tits, humming as he watched your eyes slowly blink open, confusion rocking you. He kneaded your tits gently, tugging at your nipples as you realized what was happening, eyes slowly widening as you strained to sit up against him. “Toby? Wha-” Your voice was scratchy, ridden with exhaustion as the brunette kissed up your neck to your cheeks, pushing you back down as he slotted himself flush between your legs. Slowly realizing what was happening, your cheeks flushed dark, hands pressing against his chest as you squirmed, nervously babbling as your body was still half asleep. “Lay b- back, baby… You’re so ti- tired, let me take c- care of you…” Toby sighed, running his hands back down along your skin, relishing in the way your body nervously shook under him.

You physically could not believe what was happening. This had to be a dream, some sick trick your mind was playing as you felt cold fingers hook under your panties, sliding them down. Heavy eyes wide, you grabbed his arms, clenching your thighs together against his waist. “No- No, wait- I don’t even, I mean, I’ve never-” Toby was already shushing you, gripping your wrists together and kissing your palms before pushing them back down to your sides, resuming his tug down your thighs. “I’ve go- got you. Don- Don’t gotta worry about a- a thing…” He smiled, raising your legs up to slide your panties down the rest of the way, hooking them off of your raised ankles before pulling you down closer to him, pushing your shirt over your head. “Read y- your journal, you don- don't gotta act protective, ba- baby. I know this is what y- you want…” If you weren’t already panicking, you definitely were now. 

You wanted to hound him for snooping through your journal, mouth opening to tell him off. But as his fingers brushed against the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to your folds, you lost all train of thought. He was watching you, eyes excited in the darkness of your room as he swiped his thumb closer again, your thighs flinching shut. “Anyone else e- ever touched here before?” He mumbled, pressing his thumb against your plump lips and tugging them open, getting a nice look at the wetness that was already forming between your folds. Shaking your head, Toby lit up, cock pushing hard against his jeans as he had to adjust his position, using both hands to pull your lips apart, sighing at how pretty your cunt was. Just something about knowing that Toby was claiming his stake on you, imprinting his touch for the first time before anyone else could, made something deep inside of him burn. It wasn’t like the brunette got much play himself, hooking up with a girl here and there, but being your first? That already made this so much better than any other girl could even try. 

Sliding his fingers through your wetness, you gasped, hands clutching the pillow behind your head as he groaned, spreading your arousal across your lower abdomen. You whined, thighs begging to clench together as he purposefully slid your juices over your cunt, pressing his thumb down against your swollen clit and jolting your back off the mattress. You had only ever masturbated here and there, your body getting too overwhelmed after one orgasm and forcing you to stop, but would Toby stop? As he brought his fingers to his lips and sucked them into his mouth, you doubted his restraint.

“Please be gentle…” You warned, hands planting on the mattress as you sat up, resting on your elbows as you watched Toby bring his digits back down to your cunt. He rolled his eyes playfully, tugging your folds open with his opposite hand as he pressed the tips of his fingers against your entrance, pressing in slowly. “I’ll try…” He laughed, your fingers gripping the sheets tight as you watched his fingers sink in slow, stretching your cunt uncomfortably. His index and middle fingers screwed into your tight walls gently, twisting his wrist to draw a moan from your lips, digits spreading against your gummy walls and making your entrance ache. “Just i- imagine my dick in here…” He cooed, eyes darting between your nervous face and your pretty cunt fluttering around just his fingers, barely even handling them. 

Pressing his opposite thumb against your clit, he began to rub in small circles, dragging your hips further and further off of the mattress until you were practically rolling your hips against him. His fingers probed in and out of your cunt at a slow pace, just enough to make you comfortable with the unfamiliar intrusion, but his arms ached to go faster, curl his fingers until you spasmed. “Toby…” You sighed, his hands moving in time with other as he screwed his fingers inside of you, angling them just enough so they pressed against your tight walls. His name sounded like heaven against your aroused tongue, so quiet but so desperate, secretly drawling for more. “Tell me w- what you want, ba- baby…” The pet name made your face hot, your stomach fluttering as you pressed back into the pillows, running your hands down to your thighs and squeezing the flesh. “I want… more…” You sighed through your arousal, cunt clenching desperately around Toby’s cold fingers, sucking them back inside every time he drew them out. The brunette laughed, pushing his feet under him to push his hips up against your ass, your hips raising off the bed as he fingered down into you. You could feel his cock straining behind his jeans below your raised ass, twitching needily with every tug of his fingers and moan that whined from your throat. His size was overwhelming, making your heart pound as Toby began to curl his fingers, making your eyes shut quickly. 

His fingers pressed so deep in your cunt, curling against your sensitive walls and making your jaw hang, beginning to press against your walls at a steady rhythm. It was like a new fire had lit under Toby, fingers screwing in at a quicker pace and making your stomach clench, face screwing into an overwhelmed feeling. His fingers pumped in, knuckles sinking in through your wetness and gripped by your gummy walls, curling his fingertips just right as he got deep. It was so intense, so rough, just a mess of slick and your wet cunt sounding through the room with every squelch as he abused your clit, swiping left and right quickly. Your thighs twitched and ached with every curl, trying to close around his hand practically fucking you into sensitivity. Your hands wrapped around his forearm quickly, begging his wrists to stop curling abusively inside of you as you tugged your nails into his skin. Toby wouldn’t, continuing to pump his fingers as he stared at your flushed face, cunt squelching embarrassingly loud. “Just a l- little more… Co- Come on…” He groaned, nudging his hips against your bare ass as his fingers milked moans and whines out of you, his fingers glistening with your arousal every time he tugged them out. He couldn’t feel you clawing at his arms, loud groans begging him to let up as your cunt clenched, molding around his thick fingers. 

You could feel your orgasm rolling through you, Toby huffing as the veins in his arms popped, his shoulder muscles straining against his shirt as he watched your face carefully, picking up as your moans became louder. “Gonna come f- for me? Yeah?” He teased, clothed cock twitching against your ass, pushing your cheeks apart as he rutted against you. He curled his fingers quicker, mumbling his arousal as he watched your cunt swell around him, clit throbbing under his thumb. Your orgasm hit you like a truck, stomach tightening and forcing you to sit up, Toby was quick to let off your clit and wrap his arm around your back, holding you up as he pumped your through your cunt squelching, tightening around his digits. Your eyes rolled, teeth grit tight as he palmed your clit, slowing his pace to a slow thrust as you became undone against him. No orgasm of your own had ever compared to that, head light and chest heavy as you breathed quickly, gripping Toby’s shirt tight. 

Refusing to let you go, Toby leaned in, pressing kisses against your neck and licking at your sweat, relishing in the warmth around his digits. You whined, cunt sensitive as he tugged his fingers out, his skin raw and pruned against the wetness coating his digits. Your folds were absolutely drenched, Toby spreading his fingers through your lips and pushing his sopping fingers over your warm thighs wrapped around him. “God, y- you’re so wet-” He gasped, pressing his fingertips back against your clit as he laid you back, gripping your tit. Your mind panicked, cunt flashing with sensitivity as he began to rub against your clit, swiping left and right against the rub quickly. “Toby- Stop- Toby, please-” You cried, breath catching in your throat as your stomach clenched, his fingers pressing hard as he pinched your nipples, eyes trained on your wet pussy. “You e- ever squirt before?” He smiled, transitioning fast between digging his fingers into your cunt and pulling them back out to swipe against your clit. It was nauseating, cunt crying desperately for relief as he dug nails into your tits. Gasping loudly, you gripped his arms, knees screwing tight against his sides as you cried out, hips bucking up against his hands. 

Every time his fingers slipped into your entrance, they squelched loudly, fluttering around the intrusion before desperately aching as they tugged out and moved onto your clit. “Squirt li- like a whore, m- mkay? Quit fightin’.” He hissed, letting his hand off your tit and scooping under your left knee, pushing it back to open your cunt wider, spreading your legs further apart. Your head was dizzy, heart pounding as you gasped for air, panting at every push of his fingers. You were already quick to cumming, but it felt weird, not that normal clench you felt in your stomach, more of a strain against your cunt itself. You cried out, tears slipping down your cheeks as he forced your pussy against his will, ruining you. 

As he swiped his fingertips down hard against your clit, your entrance clenched, mouth opening wide as you cried out, hips bucking up as you felt your cunt squirt, thighs trembling hard. There was literally nothing to compare it to, mind hazy as you sprayed onto his black shirt, his fingers digging into your entrance and pushing more juices out of your swollen folds. Toby was smiling, moaning his approval as he rubbed your clit softly, pushing the last of your orgasm out as you strained against the mattress. “Gunna fu- fuck you dumb, baby…” He growled, tugging the soaked shirt over his head and tossing it as he unzipped his jeans, tugging them down and off his legs as his cock hung heavy against your drenched cunt. You couldn’t even react, head spinning as Toby gripped your hips, pushing you onto your side as he grabbed your ankle, pulling it onto his shoulder and straddling your other. 

Neck craning with excitement, he teased the tip of his swollen cock between your folds, slicking himself up with your ruined juices. “This is wh- what you wanted, is- isn’t it?” He smiled wildly, pressing his cock into your ruined cunt, groaning loudly as you swallowed him in, warmth gripping tight as he gripped your leg, other hand stable on your tit. You groaned, face turned into the pillow as he began to thrust deep, giving you no mercy as he tugged at your nipple, biting at your calf as he fucked into you. You felt so full, your body so exhausted already as stretched you further, your entrance burning against the sting of this new girth. You squeezed him so tight, cock forcing itself deeper with every tug of his hips as you began to cry, tears staining your pillowcase.

“Fuckin’ tal- alk to me, baby. Gunna mak- make me cum al- already.” He sighed, teeth chewing against the meat of your calf as he pressed your cunt wider, sweat dripping from his nose as his curls clung to his forehead. He let off your tit, left hand slinking up to grip your jaw and turn your face back to look at him, your eyes heavy as they blurred with tears. Toby looked so good right now, cheeks dark against his freckles as he towered above you, cock pushing against your gummy walls and making your mouth hang. “So pretty…” He smiled, slinking his hand down to your throat and squeezing, cock pulsing as your face tightened, mouth gasping out as he clamped tighter, refusing you air. There was something so orgasmic about cutting your airway, watching your body react as he fucked your virgin cunt, holding your life in his hands. He had to breathe deep to stop himself from cumming, his violent brain spasming out. 

He pushed your ankle over his head, pulling out roughly as he rolled you onto your stomach, you gasping from the wave of air hitting your lungs. Pushing himself against your ass, Toby swore, pushing his cock back into your cunt as he pushed your back down, making you arch against him. “Just a l- little more, m’kay?” He growled, wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and squeezing hard, pressing your face down into the pillow. With a new pace, he fucked down into you wildly, hand kneading your ass hard as digging his nails into your skin, little welts forming across the soft flesh. Your muffled cries sounded against the pillow, head light and static filled as you gasped for air, Toby’s cock ramming down against your g-spot. “Never s- seen a bitch so willing, so des- desperate for my dick you’d gi- give it up so easily.” He teased, growling as he let off your neck, neck sore as he leaned down, pushing your hair off your neck. Toby hadn’t felt like this before, wanting to mark you, fucking you so desperately he wanted to carve his shape deep inside. He couldn’t let you go without knowing exactly who you craved, corrupting you, ruining you, molding you to fit only him. 

He licked against your shoulder, sucking onto the skin before he pressed his teeth, digging both hands into your hips as he sunk them in, groaning at the pop as your blood soaked his teeth. You were crying, screaming into the pillow as your entire body begged for him, craving him, mind going blank as your blood dripped from his chin as he licked at the wound. He pressed on, nibbling into the crook of your neck and sucking revolting hickies into your skin, marking you like an animal. “Wan- Want you to come on m- my cock, baby. I got- gotta fill you full, want y- you ruined for everyone b- but me.” He mumbled quickly, cock begging to spill inside of your warm cunt as you reached around, gripping his hair as he sunk his teeth in again, walls fluttering around him. You pulled his hair, dragging his mouth off of your neck and to your lips, smashing your swollen, tear-stained lips against his as he groaned, kissing you roughly. 

You were cumming again, back arching onto Toby’s cock as you moaned into his mouth, walls holding him tight inside. He tried to move, to continue thrusting, but you were so tight all he could do was rutt his hips, begging for friction as his own seed spilt, his brows screwing tight as he came deep inside of you, warm cum seeping deep into your cunt. Your mind was blank, eyes rolled as you cried into his grasp, his nails digging into your hips until you were nearly bleeding. Your cunt squelched, milking his cock as he finally pulled from your lips, letting the last of your orgasms fizzle out before he pushed off of you, slowly tugging himself out as you whined. Looking back, his cock was soaked, glistening with your arousal and streaks of blood, Toby’s eyes wide. “Ah… Yo- You tore…” He hissed, wiping his soft cock with his shirt before pulling his boxers on, quickly trotting out of your room. You dropped your head back onto the pillow, cunt aching and body ruined as you sat in your sweat and each other’s cum, mind tired as you slowly blinked. 

Toby was back in seconds, a water bottle, a wet rag, and a small bag all in tow as he climbed back onto the bed, flipping your lazy body onto your back. You smiled, sipping the water bottle slowly as he began to clean you up, gently running the warm rag between your folds and against your thighs until he was satisfied, gently rubbing your skin. Finally, he grabbed the bag, your confusion evident as he tugged out the prescription bag, rummaging for the plan b he made you buy and popping one of the pills out, handing it to you as he smiled. Your chest welled, previous anxiety dissipating until you began to tear up, taking the small pill before reaching to wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him down next to you. Toby went easily, body cradling against yours as he kissed against the bruised spots on your neck, rubbing your bite mark gently.

As you began to doze, Toby mumbled something about your note, your mind too dizzy to hear the rest. The last thing you saw was a subtle flash behind your eyelids, sleep overtaking you as Toby held you close.

-

Morning came quickly, your body stirring, reaching for Toby but finding the bed empty. Confused, you sat up, eyes heavy and head still pounding but you pressed off the bed anyway, searching for the boy. Downstairs, on the countertop, laid his hoodie neatly folded, with a small piece of paper resting on top. Sauntering over, you reached for the top, sliding it over your head, it falling before your hips as you gripped the paper, reading its contents.

On a mission. Be back later tonight. Meanwhile, enjoy ;)

Flipping the paper over, you gasped, slapping your hand over your mouth. A small picture was taped to the back, a polaroid-type photo of the two of you cradled together, your bare body pressed against his, bruises and sweat on full display. Smiling, you tucked it into his pocket, breathing the scent of his hoodie deep as Addy circled your ankles, begging for breakfast. 

Staring out your back porch door, you made sure it was unlocked, always open for him. Killer or not, that boy was yours now, accepting his every mishap the same way he did yours. For the first time in a long time, you felt wanted. 

Rest in Hell, Mr. Higgs.

This was an anonymous request!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

[casuallyanidiot]

Yantober Day 1

Love at First Sight [Yandere Forest God x Gn.Reader]

Using @ozzgin's Yantober prompt list!

Tipjar :)

Tw! Dead dove do not Eat! MDNI, NSFW Noncon, oral sex (recieving), Yandere, Implied kidnapping

You go into a newly acquired piece of land to survey it for your job when things start to become strange...

1.7k words

There was something wrong with these woods.

You were used to seeing some kind of anomaly in your field studies. Maybe the deer or rabbit population was too high, or you would find that an invasive species was beating out a more native one. It was never crazy though outside of the normal, exhausting sludge that was conservationist work. You were sent out by the local government to different wildlife reserves, or areas that were undeveloped to do some basic surveying and then come back and give them updates.

This forest wasn’t any different, initially. It was a newer addition to your city’s ownership, sold to them by a smaller, dying rural town. There were talks of what to do with the land, but first you had to be sent down to make sure they wouldn’t violate any regulations or kill off an endangered species. Not that they really cared. After all, your job was to get professionally ignored.

So you went in, camping gear and your truck in tow, and you began to explore.

Again, it was normal at first.

It was an average area. Normal flora and fauna. In fact, it was kinda impressive how well the area seemed to be doing. There was hardly any trash, no signs of destruction, no weird occurrences. It made you feel kinda happy. You went about your days just noting stuff down, humming happily all the while.

It was fine until the staring started. It began with a squirrel or two. They would just sit there, unmoving, unblinking, always just in the corner of your vision. Odd, sure, but maybe they were trying to see if they could get some of your food you always carried with you? Days passed and it escalated to a couple of birds added in, perched on branches and hidden by thick leaves. Then some bunnies, not even eating or twitching their little noses.

You thought you were going crazy, but nothing could prepare you for when the bigger animals started doing the same damn thing. The deer were one thing, already unsettling and strange, but having a bear watch you, still as a stagnate pond, was terrifying. You weren’t sure what to make of it. The only time the oddly behaving creatures would move were when either you’d get too close (in which they’d back off) or when you explored the forest (in which they’d follow after you in some sort of procession). 

You noted it all down of course. You assumed that it might be an illness, or perhaps they were used to humans? But they didn’t look unwell, and from what you understood, this place was rather isolated, so there was no reason for them to approach you this often. You felt a sense of growing unease with each passing day, with each filled page in your field journal. This was getting too weird. The thing of note was obviously the staring, but you figured that it was definitely not in your area of expertise.

That’s why, after weeks of camping and surveying the woods, you decided to get the fuck out of there. 

You packed up your campsite with little fanfare, hundreds of tiny gazes trained on your back. You glanced around as you loaded up a final few things into your truck, and you had only just realized then how many of them there were. The fauna crowded around the clearing you had settled in like a bated audience, and you shuddered. If you weren’t getting paid so much to stake it out here, then you probably would’ve hightailed it much faster.

“Okay… got my keys…” You mumbled and shuffled through your pockets quickly to make sure you weren’t leaving anything behind. “Should be good to go now.”

“Go where?”

You spun around, nearly jumping out of your skin in shock. Behind you stood a man, imposingly tall with a stony expression and dark skin. You pressed your hand to your now rapidly beating chest as he towered over you with a tilted head.

“Where are you going?” He repeated, and he prompted out a hand that was seemingly carved out of a deep bark to beckon your words out. You were shocked. His hair was seemingly made of vines connecting him to the earthen ground and shifting in unnatural ways.

“Uhhhh, back home?” Was all you could say in a slightly unsure voice. Seriously, you were at a loss for words. You had never seen such a person, and through your stuttering mind, you were able to guess that whatever was wrong with this place was probably his doing.

The man’s eyebrows (which looked as if they had been carved into his face) furrowed slightly. He placed a hand on his chin in contemplation, his dark hollow eyes and pure emerald pupils narrowing slightly.

“But,” he started, and it felt like his words rung over a hundred times in your head, shaking and lumbering through every node of your soft brain tissue. “But I thought you had come to live here,” He mumbled and reached forward to touch your arm. You flinched back on instinct, and his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Flower…” The man chided softly. His seeking fingers were more insistent this time, and you could not move back quickly enough before he was snatching you up and drawing you close. You cried out softly as you fell against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you and sighed, shivering in contentment. You cringed at the feeling of shifting, wriggling grass and vines.

“Flower, surely you must know that you cannot go,” He sighed while he ran his hands over your scalp. You blinked. Flower… why was he calling you this? You pushed him back slightly, just to look him in the face.

“I’m sorry but, who are you?” You asked. It wasn’t just a name thing, but rather to say ‘who do you think you are?’. He hummed in response, and you can see him taking in every little thing about you. Suddenly, he laughed.

“Don’t you think it’s cruel, my flower? You ask my name but I know naught of yours,” He said with affection blooming between every roll of his tongue. Your vision spun, and suddenly your back was pressed against soft earth and damp grass. You gasped and cried out. Before you could even protest, your shirt was ripped open and your pants were pulled down.

“What silly things you wear,” He chuckled and placed kisses along your neck. The feeling was strange, slightly rigid. “Is this what mortals wear nowadays? So revealing,” He murmured and toyed with the shredded fabric. Your eyes were wide, and you tried to wriggle out from under him. He merely grabbed you by the hips and pulled you back, the vines from his hair enveloping you and wrapping around your limbs. You squeaked as your thighs were pulled apart by the coiling greenery, digging into the softer flesh. 

“I must admit,” the man moved back, letting his breath ghost over your parted legs and crotch. “I was rather taken with you from the moment you arrived.” 

The strange man held you down as he buried his rugged face and strangely glowing tongue in your entrance while stroking your privates with grooved, deft fingers. Your back arched, and you desperately tried to break free. Your frantic pleas for release were soon broken by the sounds of your breathy moans, and your voice rang like a bell in the clearing. Each lap of his rugged tongue sent shivers down your spine and had your toes curling. 

“W-what? Stop that! Let me go!”

Your keys were discarded in the grass, and those fucking animals just kept staring. You could see your writhing, pinned form in the reflection of hundreds of deep, black unblinking pools. You felt sick to your stomach, and no amount of fluttering arousal could disguise that.

“It’s been so long since I’ve had company, and you come here looking like that. No, you’re going nowhere, flower.”

It felt like years were passing as he kissed, licked and held your hips in place with a tender firmness that would have you blushing if he was your lover. Or at least a lover you chose. Your begging was drowned out by your own frantic heartbeat and the humiliating squelch of your own pleasure. Never had you faced such cruel adoration, such gentle violence. Any place that had previously shown off exposed skin was kissed in a brief moment of reprieve from the onslaught. Your arms, your calves, your collar bones which had only just peaked out from under the neckline of your shirt.

Your truck, covered in mud, but still rather nice nonetheless, slowly began to be pulled into the ground by the flowers and flora rapidly growing on the vehicle. Your things! You tried to reach for them, but a hand of his reached up and entwined his fingers with yours.

Your screams of both pleasure and fear were carried by the wind, weaving through trees and filling the forest as naturally as the rustle of leaves. He continued to eat you out, and it was like you could feel his words in your head simply from the graze of his palm. It was overwhelming, and with each wave of heat, each tremble of your body, you sank further and further into his hold.

“Oh, look at you, my flower,” He pressed reverent kisses to your naval. “How you shall bloom in my care.”

More pressure, more bitter white flashes dancing across your vision as you keened and cried. Branches rustled around your face, and you wondered when they had even gotten there in the first place. They sprouted from his back and shielded you from the sun and sky. 

“-made for me-”

“-love…”

“Flower…my flower…”

You caught bits and pieces of his voice, nestled in your ears like sticky pollen. It was too much, and all at once you had come undone, spilling over his face with an anguished, strangled noise.

It was hard to think after that. All you could feel, all you could know was that you were being dragged back into those deep, dark, very wrong woods with a loving smile slotted against your lips and flowers in your hair.

[lovifie]

Masterlist

495 words / No cw, just fluff

Childhood best friend Johnny Mactavish, that saw you had doodled a little dog on your notebook and in that second decided you were going to be friends.

Johnny that saw you drowning in the pool and jumped in to save you forgetting he didn't know how to swim either.

Johnny that got his nose broken when he got into a fight with some kids teasing you and got his ass beaten because it was 1 against 3.

Johnny that told you his plan to enlist in the military even though he was still too young because he wanted to become the best version of himself.

Johnny that came back crying to you when they rejected him, only calming down when you were cuddling and cooing at him about he just needed to wait a couple of months.

Johnny that used those couple of months to grow bigger and stronger, entering the military easily when he finally was of age.

Johnny who grew up being a scrawny kid that used to sit on your lap and still does even now that he has grown bigger than you. Chuckling when you huff at the sudden weight and patting your hands when you lock them around his waist.

Johnny that kissed your temple before going to boot camp, promising to write you a letter "like soldiers in the movies"

Johnny that did write you a letter, many of them actually, that looked like ripped pages of a journal telling you everything that happened to him.

Johnny that told you that they had given him the nickname "Soap" and that he would tell you why in person.

Johnny whose letters grow more and more distant in time, with less and less details about what he is doing. Saying it is classified and that it is better if you don't know.

Johnny, who suddenly appears on your doorstep with his arm in a sling and a bullet wound on his arm, saying he is on annual leave.

Johnny that sits on your toilet as you cut his hair and he tells you everything about his new teammates with nothing but utter adoration for all of them.

Johnny that one day tells you that they are meeting at the pub and that he wants to introduce you to them.

Johnny that does so, and introduces you as "my bonnie lass" with his hand on your waist. And you don't really mind. Keeping his hand on your thigh as he plays with the loose threads of your ripped jeans.

Johnny that gets a bit tipsy and accuses you of ruining his date life because ever since he met you he has not been able to feel anything for anyone that wasn't you.

Johnny, that when you sent him a message the day after about whether he meant what he said, his response is:

"Every single word, bonnie"

↓Taglist↓

@crashtestbunny @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries @waiting-so-long @mothymunson @cod-z

@lyralein @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @thatonepupkai @darkangel4121

@spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @soupinasock @arbesa-mind @cmbghost

@multifandomheathenannie @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk @reap3erslov3 @mothsdrabbles

@cassiecasluciluce @sleepdeprivedkat @lunamoonbby @hatterripper31 @contractedcriteria

@vxnilla-hxrddrugs @fraserbraw @rosiehale23 @keiva1000 @sw33tsnow

@hxnneydew @sobbingnshtting @dprmoon @simpsallthetime1997 @ladyxtiger

@soapsmohawk-16 @nina6708 @katreintjie @sacvh @thesinsoflust

@sodavrr @yuki2129 @idk-justkane @shanhalen @dukeofjjune

@vane28282 @draculara @vivi2e @lordbugs @murder-hobo

[meelusinee]

NOW SHE HAS ME UNDER HER SKIRT ✦ M.R x READER

in which mattheo is absolutely in love with you before you two even talk for the first time (part one to lovesick!mattheo)

SECOND PART HERE - lovesick!mattheo christmas edition

pairing: lovesick!mattheo riddle x reader tags: lovesick mattheo, fem reader, so tamino inspired word count: 3.7k warnings: just fluff again! along with easily flustered mattheo (+ teasing theo)

author's note: my second post!! i made a small playlist of tamino songs i used for mattheo in this. if you haven’t, please go listen to him (his music is so good). i based this off a small part of my first fic where theo sang to reader. as always, while english is my first (and only) language, that does not mean i claim it in any way shape or form (aka this will probably suck ass)

NOW SHE HAS ME UNDER HER SKIRT | M.R x READER

Mattheo didn’t know much about love. 

Between being raised by a dictator and his craziest follower, he already didn’t have a very good start. Especially whenever he would get in trouble, the Cruciatus Curse was definitely no joke. Not to mention everyone pestering him about the legacy he led. News flash to the Gryffindors who would try to pick on him, he found it quite obvious that he was Voldemort’s son.

Suffice to say that he didn’t know much about love. He never had a true showcase of it, never had an example of it to compare to anything. The closest he ever had being another stunted teenager by the name of Theodore that considered him his brother, but even then there was still distance.

That was until he met you.

You, the most beautiful person he had ever met in his entire existence on this Earth. Anything he  lol looked at on you he would find absolutely perfect, from the color of your eyes to the way your hair bounced in the sunlight.

That alone made it hard to approach you. Your nice demeanor seemed to make it even harder.

So, he settled with admiring from afar. Mattheo knew your schedule, the classes that you would take and every time that it varied. He would subtly watch you in classes, hang around the same areas you did during your break periods, or even where you went for fun. And, to the best of his ability, he tried to avoid things that looked bad. No more fights or cursing, not unless he was truly provoked.

His mind also got its grubby hands on the idea of a journal. A place he could write about you freely, one he charmed so only he could read it. Entries, song ideas, anything he could think of. You made him an artist, you as his perfect muse.

And it all got even better when you two finally met.

You had just walked down to the courtyard, Mary Janes clacking along the rocks as you made your way over to a small pillar.

Recently, you noticed someone sitting by the pillars a lot more than usual. He was tall, his face usually covered by his brown curls as he wrote inna small journal he always carried with him. Said tall man with a face covered by his brown curls was your current potions partner, you had both been assigned to create a Liquid Luck potion.

“Hello?” you called out gently. face tilted down just a bit as you looked down at him. His eyes locked with yours when he looked up, the most beautiful shade of molten honey you had ever seen meeting your eyes. “Hi there, stranger.”

“Hello?” he whispered back at you, eyebrows furrowed as he spoke. His face looked rather cute when it was all scrunched up like that, a light blush covering his cheeks.

“I’m your Potions partner.” you said with a smile, flattening your skirt before moving to sit down next to him. “For the Liquid Luck project.”

“Oh,” he whispered, nodding as he closed his journal. It had a rather pretty leather cover, the pages aged and covered in ink from what you could tell. “Yeah, I remember. Y/N, right?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, nodding. “And you’re Mattheo.”

“Yes I am.” he said, a soft smile coming on his face as he heard that. He looked at you with something special in his eyes, eyes that carved themselves deep into your soul with the most intricate patterns you could think of.

The trance both of you seemed to be stuck in was broken when he cleared his throat, fingers tapping on his journal. “Did you have any ideas for the project?”

“Oh,” you whispered, nodding. “Yes, yes I do. I was thinking that we head to the library and research different potion methods and whatnot. Based on Slughorn’s instructions, I’m assuming that the instructions in the books won’t help much.”

“You’re a genius.” he whispered, barely loud enough for you to hear.

“What was that?” you asked him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Nothing,” he said, clearing his throat as he began to sit up. “Do you want to go now?”

Mattheo thought that he was dreaming, if he was being honest.

The girl of his dreams, the girl that he had wrote almost obsessively day and night about for almost six years, that same girl was currently sitting across from him. Laughing.

“You’re ridiculous,” she smiled at his joke, her voice sweet like a piece of cotton candy melting on your tongue. He didn’t even remember what he had joked about at this point, his mind turning to mush the moment he heard that sound pass your lips.

Those lips that haunted his dreams every single night, the image of them so plush and pure he wanted to worship them like one would a holy angel. They looked absolutely perfect.

“Thank you,” he whispered, smiling softly as he rested his chin on his hand. He probably looked like a lovesick puppy, but he didn’t mind. 

“I found something really interesting in this book  by the way,” you said, Mattheo’s eyes instantly darting to where your hands were resting on the page. “It says in the recipe that we need to juice a squill bulb, which most people just cut it for. But this recipe here notes that squeezing ingredients over a funnel gets more juice out.”

“That’s really interesting.” he whispered, his gaze looking at your face as you spoke. 

“Isn’t it?” you asked with a smile. “And here it says that adding the entire Murtlap makes the potion last longer, rather than just growth.”

“That’s also really interesting.” he whispered again, gaze still stuck on your face. You looked so pretty whenever you were concentrating on things, the way your eyebrows furrowed making him think of a million different songs and rhythms. 

“Is it?” you asked with a chuckle.

“Well,” he muttered, looking at you with a small smile on his face. “I always found Potions an interesting topic.”

“Always is not a word. It’s more of a concept.” you said, humming as you continued reading the pages. Mattheo chuckled softly, looking at you like a lovesick puppy.

“You’re lovely,” he whispered. 

Theo was sitting in his bed reading a book, his curtains almost completely closed as he flipped between page to page. At least, he pretended to.

Recently, he had noticed Mattheo’s obsessive journaling habits. How his hands would be covered in ink by the time he was finished, or how he’d write until his new candle burnt out. Sometimes Mattheo would write even when the candle burnt out, instead opting for yet another one.

It was rather concerning to Theo, to say the least. Out of all of the things Mattheo could do, he was changing who he was. Self-improvement was one thing, but it seemed like he changed an obsession from fighting to writing.

“I can feel you staring at me.” Mattheo mumbled, looking back over at where Theo was sitting.

“I’m surprised you can,” Theo said under his breath, closing his book and standing up. “With how much you’ve been writing, I’d assume you get sucked in by a black hole sometime soon.”

“Oh hush,” he whispered, looking up from the journal. His hands were stained black and red with quill ink, the candle beside him still burning brightly. “Why do you keep staring at me? You’ve been doing it all week.”

“Your journal.” Theo smirked, walking behind Mattheo and placing his hands on his Mattheo’s shoulder. “What’s inside?”

“Why would I tell you?” Mattheo grumbled, continuing to write in the journal. Theo’s eyes squinted as they tried to read whatever was on the page, but the words were too jumbled to make any sense to him. No doubt a charm.

“You charmed the journal?” Theo asked curiously, looking down at Mattheo.

“Like you care.” he whispered under his breath, the quill scratching loudly against the paper. The room was quiet other than that, nothing but the quill scratching and the candle crackling.

“I do.” Theo said, his voice a bit more stern. He pulled up a chair next to Mattheo, resting his elbow on the table. “Mattheo, you’re pushing everyone away. Even me, and it’s not healthy. All you do is write in this journal, it’s kind of worrying.”

“I just like writing,” Mattheo whispered, moving his legs to rest his knees near his chest.

“About what?” Theo asked, his voice more soft than teasing.

“You’ll judge.” Mattheo whispered again, flicking the quill back and forth as his eyes glanced over at Theo. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because you’re my best friend.” Theo whispered. “I promise I won’t judge.”

Mattheo sighed before turning to the journal, pressing his wand against it as the words came into view more clearly. His handwriting was a lot more cursive than Theo first remembered, no doubt changing the more he wrote. 

“It’s a journal about her,” Mattheo whispered, flipping through some of the pages. “Love letters, poems, songs and stuff.”

“Her?” Theo asked curiously. “Who’s her?”

“Her,” Mattheo muttered to Theo, picking at his fingernails as he spoke. He looked like a blushing schoolboy who found his first love, it was rather cute to watch. “It’s, like, she’s a girl I just really like. I think about her a lot, you know? And I’m just trying to improve myself for her.”

“What’s her name?” Theo asked, resting his head against his hand as he crossed his legs.

“Y/N.” Mattheo sighed, like the word itself was a part of some holy prophecy. “She’s so beautiful, you know? Like something from heaven, just beautiful. And I just can’t get her out of my head.”

“Have you ever tried talking to her?” Theo asked, a small smile on his face.

“We have this project together right now.” he said, chuckling softly as he spoke. He was so down bad. “She took me to the library to research more about potions. Merlin, she’s so smart Theo. She figured the reason why nobody could make the potion was because the instructions were wrong.”

“So you both started researching?” Theo asked.

“She researched, yeah,” Mattheo said, before chuckling again. His hand moved to scratch the back of his neck nervously. “I kind of just sat watching her the entire time.” 

“Mattheo,” Theo chuckled softly, shaking his head. 

“You said you wouldn’t judge!” Mattheo protested.

“I’m not judging.” Theo chuckled, looking down at the journal. “I’m just confused on how you think you’ll get your girl if you can’t even talk to her. Journaling can only go so far.”

“I know,” Mattheo whispered, looking down at his journal again. “But it still helps.”

Theo nodded, looking down at the journal again. “What are you writing about right now?”

“Uh,” he muttered, looking at the pages. “It’s a song. She said something at the library that made me think of a song, I haven’t been able to get it out of my head.”  

“What’s it sound like.” Theo asked, leaning back in his seat.

“Uhm,” he whispered, picking at his nails again as he pushed the journal towards Theo. He hummed softly as he picked it up, eyes squinting as he tried to read his handwriting.

Darling, just calm with your voice

Let your heart sing, how I always enjoy 

When you say “always” is not a word

You think love is a bit absurd.

“That’s really nice,” Theo said, looking up at Mattheo with a small smirk. “This is a lot better than I thought it’d be, to be honest.”

“What did you think I was writing about?” Mattheo asked confusedly.

“Dark magic or something.” Theo chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Like you were possessed by a ghost to figure out how to resurrect themselves.”

Mattheo chuckled at that, taking his journal back. “I think you’ll find someone like this, you know. It makes life really nice.”

“Being in love?” Theo asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah,” Mattheo whispered. “In love.”

“Well, there’s always an opportunity for that. And when it happens, it’ll happen.” Theo said, patting his pockets and pulling out a box of cigarettes. “But until then, there’s cigarettes.”

“You know the way to my heart, don’t you?” Mattheo snickered at that, using the lit candle to light his own cigarette.

It had been a couple of weeks since you and Mattheo had started working on your project. You had figured out how to maximize the efficiency of your potion brewing, including changing methods of brewing and preparing ingredients. After about three different trials, you had finally found the perfect way to brew the potion. 

“That’s perfect.” Mattheo smiled softly at you, chuckling softly as he scratched the back of his neck. In all honesty, it looked like a regular potion to him. “I think that’s perfect, right?”

“That is perfect.” you said, giggling softly as his reaction You found it rather cute, if you were being honest. He seemed rather nervous around you. “Thank you for doing all of this with me, the potion work and all. Most people would probably just leave it to me, you know?”

“Why would they leave?” Mattheo asked, eyebrows furrowing.

You shrugged, looking down at the potion still set in the cauldron as you spoke. “I don’t really know. I guess people consider me weird or something like that. Someone said that I was whimsical once, I don’t think it was a nice way though.”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous.” Mattheo spat. He couldn’t understand the logic of that. In his eyes, you were absolutely perfect. He would give anything in the world to hang out with you more often than he got too, and people gave that up for free? The thought was absolutely ridiculous.

You chuckled quietly at that, smiling softly. “Yeah?”

“Definitely. I mean,” he paused, looking up at you like that was the most absurd thing in the entire world. He had a small flush on his face, no doubt questioning what he was going to say. “I mean, you’re such a nice person. And I think that hanging around you is comforting.”

“And I think that you’re rather sweet.” you chuckled, looking at him with a soft smile.

“I’m being serious!” Mattheo said, looking you in the eyes. You hadn’t heard him talk this much in the entire time that you had been working with him, and you especially didn’t expect it to be him defending you. “You’re just, like, you. Which is really sweet, you know? I really like you and your whimsy, or whatever they try to call you.”

You giggled again, smiling softly at him as you scooted a bit closer. “You’re rather nice yourself, if I do say so myself.”

“Thank you.” he whispered, his voice raising a pitch as he looked at the potion. “Do we need to test this?”

“I think so.” she nodded. “Do you want to do it?”

Mattheo looked at the potion, a small frown coming on her face. If anything went wrong with the podcast, he wouldn’t want you to be hurt by it. Which led to him nodding, the best option for him obviously being him taking the potion himself. 

“I’ll bottle it for you.” you said, grabbing the small ladle and pouring it inside the potion vial. “Here, one vial of Liquid Luck for you.”

Mattheo smiled softly as he took a sniff of it. “Is it meant to smell like something?”

“No, just air. I mean, clean air. Not like toxic air or anything.” you said, before ending your small speel. “It doesn’t smell like anything.”

Mattheo nodded again, taking a swig of it before coughing. “That’s definitely hot.”

“It did just come off the cauldron.” you chuckled, fingers fidgeting slightly. “Do you feel lucky?”

Mattheo looked up at you with a look you could only describe as a lovesick puppy, a small flush covering his face as he admired you. You could only assume the amount of thoughts running through his mind were plenty, some very hard to sort through. 

“Yeah,” he whispered, blinking slowly as he looked at you. “Very lucky.”

You chuckled softly at that, your face flushing as you watched his eyes lock onto your lips. “Do I have something on my lips or something?”

“No,” he whispered softly, his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he spoke. “No, I just,”

“Something on my teeth?” you asked, shining your teeth to him.

“I want to kiss you.” he whispered. 

Your mouth closed again as you heard that, eyes locking onto his after he spoke. That didn’t last long though, as his eyes focused back on your lips again. “You what?”

“I want to kiss you.” he said a bit more clearly, his voice hoarse as he spoke. “I mean, I don’t want to pressure you. But I really want to kiss you.”

“You can kiss me.” you whispered softly to him, scooting a bit closer to him in return. 

Mattheo blinked for a couple of seconds, the shock of your answer plastered on his face. It filled you with a small sense of confidence, the blush on his face fueling your own. “I can?”

“You can.” you smiled.

Mattheo smiled brightly at that, the burn of it brighter than the sun sucking his lips in like a blackhole would. His lips immediately met yours, burning like fireworks against his skin. It was absolute bliss to him, burning through his skin and turning him into nothing but lovesick ash.

“Your lips are absolutely perfect, my love.” he whispered, his eyes boring into yours with a gaze full of adoration. “So perfect.”

“Was your luck to try and kiss me, Riddle?” you chuckled softly at him. 

“This is the luckiest moment of my life.” he whispered. 

“Theo!” Mattheo spat out, opening the dorm room door as he stormed in. His palms looked sweaty, and his face was absolutely covered in a bright blush. 

“Mattheo.” Theo said his name back, closing his book as he looked at where Mattheo had stormed in. He looked absolutely wrecked, almost drenched in sweat. “You look like you just got your ass kicked on the Quidditch field.”

“I just,” he whispered, walking closer to Theo as he paced around the room. “I just kissed her.”

“Y/N?” Theo asked, a small smile crossing her face. “You kissed her?”

“It was so perfect.” he whispered, laying down on Theo’s bed. “Like, it was like her lips had a magnetic pull on me. I couldn’t stop for the next hour. A whole hour!”

“That’s wild, mate.” he chuckled softly, patting Mattheo on the head.

“It was just perfect,” he whispered under his breath, sighing softly. “Like, I don’t know how else to describe it. Maybe like looking at a supernova for the first time.”

“You are down bad, Mattheo.” he chuckled softly at that, continuing to pat his friend on the head.

“And then we, after that right?” he said, the smile on his face only growing larger. “We snuck off to this broom closet. You know the ones. And we did, we had,” he paused, sighing in frustration as his words jumbled in his head. “You know?”

“I know.” Theo chuckled.

“I have a song idea again.” Mattheo said, sitting up again as he rushed to the journal he kept so dearly to his heart. “I will be dead to the world for the next few hours.”

“You want me to go tell Y/N that, lover boy?” Theo smirked.

“She can come in whenever.” Mattheo said, dipping his quill in black ink. “I already gave her our dormitory password.”

“You what?”

“I have a present for you.” Mattheo whispered under his breath, a small smile on his face as he walked towards you.

It was the 6 month anniversary of one of the happiest relationships you had ever been in. There was communication and there was love. Small dates near the Black Lake at midnight, with breakfast you stole from the Great Hall earlier. Times where he’d take you into town and let you dress up however you wanted, all on the cards he stole from Malfoy. Or small get-togethers like this, hangouts at the top of the Astronomy Tower. 

And the presents were always lovely. Small poems that he wrote for you, or love letters that he hand wrapped himself. A small blush or dress you had been eyeing for more than two seconds, or room decor that went with your forever indecisive aesthetics. 

“You do?” you giggled softly, gasping softly as he pulled out a small guitar. “A song?”

“I’ve written a couple for you,” he whispered. “And I wanted to sing them to you. For our anniversary.”

“I love you.” you giggled, smiling as he sat down.

He cleared his throat as he made sure the guitar was in tune, strumming a few chords before eventually developing a melody. It seemed almost hypnotic the way his hands moved, his voice humming along as he figured out the rhythm.

“Yesterday, I was a word. Left with no voice to speak it,” he hummed softly, his voice and the guitar both vibrating through the walls. You smiled brightly as you heard his voice, not realizing how pretty his voice actually sounded.

“Now I am a happy song, placed on the lips of a woman.” he sang, winking at you. He continued for a few lines, a small smirk growing on his lips as he got to the instrumental part.

“What are you going to sing next?” you asked, watching him giggle softly. “Seriously!”

“Patience,” he whispered, chuckling as he strung the melody again, his eyes darting down at the guitar. “Now she has me, under her skirt,”

“Mattheo!” you flushed, slapping his arm and breaking the rhythm of his song. “My skirt?”

The both of you burst out into a laugh at that, the sound breaking through the cold night air that breezed through the alcove you sat in. Or maybe you just felt warm in his presence, a constant feeling of love rushing through your body.

“Can I finish my song now?” he smirked.

“I suppose you could.” you whispered, resting your head on his shoulder as he continued to sing.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

my second post oh my GOD this one took a hot minute to get through. beta-reading and proof reading is definitely not my jam, and there's definitely things that i missed in this. but i hope it still works out well, especially the whole lovesick angle i was going for. if you guys haven't already, please please please go check out tamino's music. it is actually so. good. if you listen to hozier or adrianne lenker, i think you'd really like his songs (my favorites are the first disciple and habibi)

if you would like to read the second part, click here!

as always, please like, comment, and reblog! it really helps out, and i really appreciate everyone who does! if you guys have any requests or something you can request in the ask box!

[starkwlkr]

I LOVE YOUR CHARLES FICS ESPECIALLY THE RUBY ONES OMG! This might sound strange, but could you write one where Y/N gets tired of the paparazzi and tries to physically fight a reporter? Kinda like the björk reporter incident in the 90’s. I wanna hear Charles and ruby’s reactions!

that’s my wife! | charles leclerc

charles: you know the only reason i got married was so i could yell that’s my wife whenever i wanted?

also i made it SLIGHTLY different so instead of fighting the paparazzi, mama leclerc throws hands with toxic f1 fanboys 😍

Y/n always hated paparazzi, it was no surprise. She knew from the start of her relationship with Charles that she would be photographed whenever they stepped out. She knew what she was getting herself into when she started dating Charles and she tried to ignore it. It worked for a couple years and then Ruby and Mathéo came along. Being a mother changed Y/n. She was more protective of her children and husband.

When she wasn’t in the paddock, she was back home in Monaco with the kids and Pascale. The wag pages updated on where she was and some fans would try to find her.

During the week that Charles was away, Y/n was out with the kids in sunny Monaco. Ruby needed new school supplies and Y/n needed to buy Mathéo new clothes so she took both of her kids to the store. Charles has told her many times to at least have someone with her when she went out, but Y/n didn’t think it was necessary.

“Maman! Can I have this one?” Ruby pointed to a pink backpack that was on a window display.

“You already have a backpack, my love, we are only buying items we need like journals and books for you and new clothes for Théo, okay? And maybe we’ll get ice cream after. How does that sound?” Y/n asked the little girl, who seemed bummed that she wasn’t getting the pretty pink backpack she saw, but cheered up when her maman mentioned ice cream.

Ruby held onto the stroller as the family of three walked the sidewalk to the nearest store that sold school supplies. That’s when Ruby noticed a man pointing his phone at them. She wondered why and asked her maman.

“Let’s go inside, quickly.” Y/n told Ruby as they finally made it to the store.

“Why is he staring?” Ruby stared back at the man and even stuck out her tongue at him when he wouldn’t stop recording.

“Don’t pay attention, Ruby Jules. Let’s go.” Y/n grabbed Ruby’s hand.

“I don’t like him, maman.” Ruby whispered.

“I don’t either,” Y/n sighed as she started her shopping. But the man, who was still recording, decided to make her day worse.

“Tell Charles that Max is the better driver!” He was clearly trying to get a reaction out of her. “Fuck Ferrari!”

And suddenly, Y/n had so much anger built up in her that it made her snatch the phone from the man’s hands and throw it as far as possible. It practically landed on the other side of the shop.

“What the fuck!”

“Don’t ever disrespect my husband like that. Have the day you deserve, shithead.” Y/n turned the stroller holding a sleeping Mathéo and grabbed Ruby’s hand. “Fuck you.” She pushed past the man as she exited the shop.

As the mom had her back turned, Ruby stuck her tongue out again at the stranger.

“And then maman said a bad word and we left! But the phone flew so far and the man looked like he was going to cry!” Ruby said enthusiastically into the phone. Charles was still gone, but news spread of the incident in the shop. Most people were defending Y/n’s actions since the man was clearly harassing the family.

“Really? So maman almost made a grown man cry, that’s my wife!” Charles laughed. Before talking with Ruby on the phone, he had gotten the full story from his wife.

“That’s my maman!” Ruby yelled.

[nevernonline]

✧.* talk too much; kmg

synopsis:  a charismatic but slightly awkward mingyu, whose tendency to talk too much creates hilariously unpredictable situations.  one early morning he spots a stranger sitting in the corner of the café—someone who's quiet, mysterious, and a little intimidating. drawn to her aura, he strikes up a conversation. but every time he opens his mouth, his words seem to betray him.

paring: mingyu x fem! reader. 

genre:strangers2whatever (hehe)  

warning/s:mentions of substances (alcohol) some minor sexy stuff, but not much really.

word count: 11k

content: . non-idol idolings, awkward over sharer mingyu.

note: non rlly edited prob weird typos, xo. ( there's a part 2 in my drafts fully bc I couldn't stop writing about these two)

The bell above the café door jingled as the stranger stepped inside. Mingyu, standing in front of the register, halfway through recounting a story to his favorite barista about the time he accidentally adopted a stray cat. He paused mid-sentence, caught off guard by the stranger’s presence.  

She was unlike anyone who usually wandered into the cozy café—a stark contrast to the warm, inviting space. Dressed in muted tones, she carried an air of quiet confidence and mystery, expression unreadable. The girl didn’t look around or hesitate, walking directly to a table in the far corner as though she had been here a hundred times before.  

Mingyu watched her settle in, his curiosity piqued. The girl placed a cherry red leather-bound journal on the table, opened it to a blank page, and began scribbling furiously.  

“She doesn't look like she’s here for the coffee,” Mingyu muttered to himself.  

Before he could stop himself, he grabbed the notepad behind the counter from his stunned regular bar keep and approached the table.  

“Hi there,” he said brightly. “Welcome to uh, Black Rabbit. Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea? One of the world-famous muffins? Well, they’re not world-famous yet, but I think they are. Anyway—”  

The stranger looked up, her sharp eyes meeting his. Mingyu froze for a moment, forgetting whatever it was he was going to say next.  

“Black coffee,” the stranger said curtly. Her voice was low, measured, and entirely unimpressed.  

“Got it. One black coffee. Simple. Classic. You know, I respect that. Some people come in here and order drinks with so many extra syrups and toppings it’s like they’re trying to create a dessert in disguise. But you—you’re all about the essentials.”  

The girl raised an eyebrow. “Is there a point to this? Also do you even work here?”  

Mingyu blinked, realizing he was rambling. “Uh, nope! No point. Just making conversation. I’ll get that coffee for you. And, uh, no I don’t. Just helping out.”  

He turned and practically sprinted back to the counter, silently berating himself. “Cool, Mingyu. It's really cool.”  

When he returned with the coffee, he found her staring out the window, lost in thought. He set the cup down gently, but instead of leaving, he spoke again.  

“Hey, I don’t mean to pry, but are you... writing something? You looked really focused earlier. Like, next-level focused. Are you an author? Or maybe a secret spy writing down your next mission?”  

The stranger sighed, looking back at him with an exasperated expression. “Do you always ask this many questions?”  

“Only when I’m curious,” Mingyu replied with a grin. “And I’m very curious about you. You’ve got that whole mysterious, ‘I’ve got secrets’ vibe going on.”  

The girl finally gave a hint of a smile, though it was barely noticeable. “Maybe I do.”  

That small flicker of amusement was all the encouragement Mingyu needed. “Okay, so you are a spy. Or an undercover rockstar. Oh! Or a—”  

“I’m sorry, but I’m trying to work,” she interrupted, though her tone was softer now.  

Mingyu took a step back, raising his hands. “Got it. I’ll leave you to it. But if you need anything—like a refill, a snack, or a friendly face—I’m your guy.”  

“But you said you don’t work here.” 

As he walked away, the stranger shook their head, a faint smile tugging at their lips. Mingyu may have talked too much, but there was something disarmingly genuine about him that made it hard to stay annoyed.  

Heading up to grab his own cup from the counter, Mingyu stole another glance at her and couldn’t help but wonder what kind of story they were carrying—and whether he’d somehow become a part of it.

The next afternoon, the café was busier than usual, filled with a mix of students typing away on their laptops and a few regulars deep in conversation. Mingyu was at the counter, enthusiastically explaining to another regular Mrs. Park how the secret to perfect coffee lay in "a gentle pour and a mindful attitude," when the bell jingled again.  

Mingyu's head snapped up, and sure enough, the girl from yesterday was back. This time, she seemed even more aloof, her eyes scanning the room briefly before settling back on her spot in the corner. She didn't notice Mingyu’s stare as she quietly set down her cherry red journal and began flipping through its pages.  

Mingyu found himself momentarily frozen in place, suddenly aware of how *awkward* his last encounter had been. "Don't be weird this time. Don't overdo it," he muttered to himself, but his mind was already spiraling into potential conversation starters. What if he said something she’d find interesting? What if he said too much?  

With a deep breath, Mingyu stepped away from the counter. He was *determined* to keep things casual.  

“Hey, you,” Mingyu called out, walking toward her table, “back again, huh? Is the coffee that good, or are you just here for a change of scenery?”  

The girl looked up from her journal, her eyes scanning him briefly before she spoke in her usual flat tone. “Just getting out of the house for a while.”  

Mingyu nodded, trying to read the mood. “Yeah, I get that. Sometimes, you just need a little break from your own four walls. I mean, my walls are full of stuff—vinyl records, old concert tickets, a couple of questionable cat sweaters... but still.”  

Her lips twitched, just for a second. “A questionable cat sweater?”  

Mingyu grinned. “Yeah. It’s got a picture of a cat wearing glasses, trying to look intellectual. But honestly, I think it just makes the cat look like it’s about to take over the world. It was for my work Christmas party, but I’d be lying if I said I haven’t worn it more than once.”  

There was a moment of silence, and then the corner of her mouth curled up slightly. “I’d like to see that.”  

Mingyu’s heart did a little flip. She’s smiling. "It’s not for sale. Only available to cat enthusiasts who appreciate the depth of their feline overlords."  

Her smile lingered for just a second longer before it faded back into the neutral expression she wore so often. “I’ll take your word for it,” she said softly, her fingers tapping lightly on the table.  

Mingyu felt a brief hesitation. Maybe it was better not to press too hard. He had a tendency to run with a conversation until it got awkward, and right now, the conversation felt almost... comfortable.  

"So," Mingyu started, his mind racing for something else to say, “I’m guessing you’re writing more top-secret spy notes today? Or is it a shocking revelation about how you once got lost in a supermarket for three hours?”  

The girl’s eyebrow arched. “That’s an oddly specific guess.”  

Mingyu shrugged. “You'd be surprised how many people get lost in supermarkets. But, you know, it's all about the aisles and the lights. Before you know it, you're trapped in the frozen food section, wondering how you got there in the first place.”  

She watched him for a moment, then laughed softly—a real laugh this time, not just a polite chuckle. It was low, but genuine, and it made Mingyu’s chest feel lighter than it had in days.  

“Okay, I’ll admit that’s sort of funny, considering I assume you’re speaking from experience,” she said, surprising him even more. “But no, I’m not writing about that. Just...” She paused for a moment, her fingers stopping their restless tapping. “Just... trying to work through some things.”  

The shift in her tone was subtle, but Mingyu could feel the change. For the first time, he wasn’t just a guy talking too much. He was hearing her in a way that felt real, as if she was opening up to him without fully realizing it.  

“I get it,” Mingyu said, his voice softening. “Sometimes you just need a space to think things through. Like, I talk on the radio every night—way too much sometimes—but I guess it helps me sort out my own head.”  

The girl looked up at him then, her eyes lingering on his face with a quiet intensity that made his heart race.  

“You talk on the radio?” she asked.  

Mingyu chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah. You could say I’m kind of a big deal, I mean here anyway to people who know me” He made a vague gesture to the café around them. “But only to the people who are really into weird facts and  random stories. Like, one time I told my listeners about how I accidentally ended up with two lunch boxes after a miscommunication with a vending machine. I’m not proud of it, but hey, it makes for a great segment."  

She tilted her head slightly. “What else do you talk about?”  

Mingyu opened his mouth to reply, but then realized he was getting carried away. "Well, I don't want to bore you with my radio segment. Not everyone's cup of tea."  

She looked thoughtful for a second. “I’d listen to you.”  

His heart skipped. “Really?”  

“Maybe.” She leaned back in her chair, her gaze still steady. “If you were actually interesting enough.”  

Mingyu burst out laughing. “Okay, ouch. But I’ll take that as a challenge.”  

She shrugged, and for a moment, Mingyu just stood there, unsure whether he’d said something that was too much or if she was just being her usual, unreadable self.  

Finally, he broke the silence with a casual, “If you do end up listening, I’ll make sure to talk about my cat sweater for at least twenty minutes. That’ll make it worth your while.”  

A flash of amusement crossed her face. “I’ll hold you to that.”  

Mingyu smirked, making a mental note to talk in depth about his weird festive sweater, “Are you ever going to tell me your name?” 

“If you’re worth it.” A challenge from the enigma of a girl. 

“Okay, I’m Mingyu, by the way.” 

She just smiled as he walked off and went back to her black coffee without another word. 

Later in the night, the rain hitting the pavement outside of his office he watched as he had just finished setting up for his radio show. He spoke into the microphone, he could still feel the weight of his earlier conversation with the girl in the café. Something about her, her quiet mystery, had left him thinking, and for the first time in a long while, he felt calm on air.  

“Good evening, everyone,” Mingyu’s voice boomed through the mic. “I’m your host, Mingyu, here to take you through the night with some extremely random thoughts in between your hot hit countdown. But first, let’s talk about something near and dear to my heart: cats. Yes, that’s right. Cats. And how, in some cultures, they’re considered mystical beings that can sense your innermost thoughts. Which, if you ask me, explains a lot about why my cat is currently judging me for eating cereal at 11 PM.”  

He paused, chuckling to himself as he imagined the girl sitting in the corner of the café, maybe listening to him right now.  

“Anyway,” he continued, leaning into the mic. “If anyone out there has a cat sweater as legendary as mine, I’d love to hear about it. Or if you’ve ever gotten lost in a supermarket, accidentally adopting an extra lunchbox, send me a message. You know, just the things we all need to talk about. Let’s connect, guys. Let’s keep it real. If you’re watching us live right now on Youtube leave your stories in the chat or don’t hesitate to hit me up on twitter at gyunation.”  

The next morning, the café was as cozy as ever, with soft music playing in the background and a few early risers getting their caffeine fix. Mingyu was ordering coffee when the door opened again. He turned, already knowing who it was before she even walked in.  

The girl from the had returned. She gave him a small, knowing smile as she walked in and headed toward her usual table.  

Mingyu’s heart skipped a beat. “I didn’t expect to see you here again.”  

She raised an eyebrow. “I said I’d hold you to it.”  

He blinked. “Wait, what?”  

“You’re wearing your cat sweater today,” she said with a hint of a smile, her eyes glinting. “And I’m listening to you. Now, tell me about the mystical powers of cats, Mingyu.”  

Mingyu couldn’t help it. He grinned. He’d found a way to connect, just like he’d always hoped—through the stories, through the weirdness, and maybe, just maybe, through the unexpected bonds that only seemed to form when you weren’t trying so hard.  

“If you finally tell me your name.” 

“It’s y/n.” 

Mingyu blinked, a mix of surprise and excitement flickering in his eyes. "Y/N," he repeated slowly, as if savoring the sound of it. It was simple, yet it felt like a small victory. There was something about hearing her name that made everything feel a little less mysterious, a little more real.  

“I didn’t expect it to be so... normal,” Mingyu said with a half-joking grin, but there was a warmth in his tone that made the words feel genuine. "I was kind of hoping for something  cooler, like... I don't know, Phoenix or something. Or even Astrid, that would’ve been a great name."  

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?”  

Mingyu let out a short, embarrassed laugh. “Maybe. I get random ideas sometimes. Like, when I was younger, I was convinced my name should’ve been something cooler, like Max or Axel. But then I realized I was always just Mingyu. And now, well, I’m starting to like it." He hesitated for a second. “I’m starting to like the name y/n too.”  

There was a flicker of something in her expression, something soft and fleeting, before it was replaced with her usual composed demeanor. “I’m glad to know you like it. Mingyu is honestly a nicer name than Axel. Though, you’re still in trouble. I’m waiting for my cat wisdom.”  

Mingyu nodded enthusiastically, happy to follow the new flow of their conversation. He slid into the chair across from her, trying to hide the fact his hands were still slightly shaking from the excitement of actually talking with her. “Okay, okay. The mystical powers of cats—where do I even begin?” He leaned in dramatically, as if about to reveal some ancient secret.  

"First of all, cats are masters of manipulation," Mingyu began, gesturing with his hands for emphasis. "I mean, if you’ve ever had a cat sit on your lap, staring at you like they know you’ve got food, but they're too dignified to beg—that’s sort of like when you know you’re in their power."  

Y/N’s lips twitched, and for the first time, she seemed fully engaged in his rambling. “Manipulation, huh?” she murmured, leaning back in her chair. "I thought we were talking about mystical powers, not  deviousness."  

Mingyu grinned. “That is their mystical power, come on. They can manipulate you into giving them whatever they want, whether it’s food, affection, or a new scratching post. It’s all about the gaze, the quiet dominance. There’s a reason people say cats can see into your soul.”  

Y/N nodded slowly, clearly entertained. “Okay, I’ll give you that one. But what about the mystical part? You know, the one where cats are supposed to be magical, like, bringing good luck and stuff.”  

“That’s a good one.” Mingyu leaned forward, his eyes lighting up with the sudden spark of inspiration. “Well, think about it. Cats sleep all day, but when they wake up, they’re already confident they can get what they want. They just know that time is precious, that sleep is sacred, and that the real power is in being present when it counts.”  

He paused for a second, realizing that this wasn’t just him making random, funny observations anymore. There was something about how he’d said it—how focused he’d been—something deeper that he hadn’t planned for. Mingyu quickly shook his head, feeling a little embarrassed.  

“Okay, maybe I’ve been watching too many cat videos, but you get what I mean, right?”  

Y/N’s eyes softened, and she gave him an almost imperceptible nod. “I get it. Cats don’t waste time. They don’t do things for anyone but themselves. That’s kind of powerful.”  

“Exactly.” Mingyu’s smile was so wide it threatened to overtake his face. “It’s like they’ve got it all figured out. We’re all running around, doing a million things at once, but cats? They take it easy, let things come to them and somehow, it works out.”  

Y/N sat there, looking at him for a moment, before her gaze drifted down to her journal. "I never thought about it that way," she said quietly.  

Mingyu noticed the shift in her energy. It was subtle, but he could tell that his words had struck something deep. Before he could say anything more, she lifted her head again, her expression more thoughtful than before.  

"Maybe I need to take a page out of the cat playbook," she murmured, almost to herself.  

Mingyu watched her for a moment, wondering if he’d said too much, or if he was getting into dangerous territory where he might have pushed her too far with his endless chatter. But when she glanced back up at him, there was no irritation, only curiosity.  

“I think we all do,” Mingyu said softly. “We could all use a little more time to just be. No pressure. No rush. Just existing in the moment.”  

Y/N gave a small smile, and for the first time, Mingyu felt like it wasn’t just her pulling away from the world. It was almost like she was letting a piece of herself connect to him, in this little moment of vulnerability.  

"So," he said after a beat, trying to keep the conversation light, "what are you going to do now? Go home and take a nap like a true cat?"  

Y/N chuckled, the sound soft and genuine. "No, I think I’ll stay here for a bit longer." She looked up at him, her eyes glinting with amusement. "But maybe I’ll actually finish what I’m writing today. You know, before I get distracted by any more of your stories."  

Mingyu’s grin widened, feeling a sense of accomplishment that he hadn't realized he was craving. “I promise, I’ll keep the stories to a minimum. But if you need a distraction, you know where to find me.”  

She raised her cup of coffee, as if to make a toast. "I might just have to do that."  

Later that day Mingyu returned to his usual post at the counter on his break from the studio, his mind still buzzing with the conversation he’d just had with Y/N. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this good about a conversation. His thoughts wandered back to her, and how she hadn’t seemed annoyed by his rambling. Instead, she’d actually listened—like she wanted to listen.  

As the afternoon light filtered through the café windows, he found himself stealing glances at Y/N from the counter. She was still scribbling in her journal, her focus so intense it was almost like she was channeling her own version of that "cat power" he had talked about earlier.  

And maybe, just maybe, he could be a part of her story. Or at least, part of the narrative she was writing in her mind.  

The thought made him smile to himself, and for the first time in a while, he felt like he wasn’t just talking to fill silence. He was talking because it felt like she was listening—and maybe, just maybe, she was starting to like the sound of his voice, too.  

Y/N’s eyes sparkled as she grabbed her things from the table and walked up to him standing in line,”I already got you another one, I remembered you came here around this time yesterday so I just took a shot.” Her fingers brushing against his in the exchange. 

“I think it’s going to be just what I need,” he said softly, her smile lingering.

Mingyu nodded, suddenly aware of the quiet space between them. For a moment, neither of them spoke, but there was something comforting in the silence, something deeper than just shared words. It was like they both understood that there was more here than just a random meeting. Maybe, just maybe, they were starting to find something that couldn’t easily be put into words.

“So, what’s on your agenda today?” Mingyu asked, leaning against the counter, trying to keep the conversation going. “Any secret missions? Any mysteries waiting to be solved?”

Y/N took a sip of her espresso, savoring the rich taste before setting the cup down and looking at him with a thoughtful expression. “Actually, yes. I have been thinking about something,” she said, her voice quieter now, more reflective. “I’ve been thinking about what it means to really be somewhere. You know? Per our earlier conversation. Not just physically, but mentally. To actually let yourself be present and not be running from one thing to the next.”

Mingyu’s brows furrowed as he processed her words. “I get that,” he said slowly, almost to himself. “I think... I think I’ve been running around like that a lot lately. Always filling up my time with stuff, trying to get things done, but I’m never really here, you know? It’s like, I’m always on autopilot.”

Y/N nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Exactly. It’s easy to get caught up in the noise. But sometimes, the quiet is where the answers are.”

Mingyu felt a strange warmth spread through him at her words. It was as though they were having a conversation that was much bigger than coffee, much bigger than just now. It felt like she was giving him a glimpse into something he wasn’t quite ready to admit to himself.

"You know," he said softly, "I think I needed to hear that today."

Y/N looked at him, her gaze steady. "I think you were meant to hear it."

The words hung between them, and for a moment, Mingyu felt like the whole world outside the café had faded into the background. It was just him and her, and in this small, quiet space, they had carved out a little corner of understanding.

But before he could say anything more, Y/N stood, her bag slung over her shoulder. “I should get going,” she said, offering him a gentle smile. “But I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Same time?” Mingyu asked, suddenly eager for the next day, for the next conversation, for the next moment with her.

She gave a slight nod, her smile turning a little more playful. “Same time. And don’t forget your charm, Mingyu.”

He laughed, feeling lighter than he had in days. “I’ll bring it. I promise.”

As Y/N left the café, Mingyu stood there for a moment, watching her go. He had no idea what was coming next, no idea what kind of story he and Y/N were writing together. But for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel the need to rush ahead to the next chapter. He was content to let it unfold, slowly and naturally, like the turning of a page.

And when the door swung closed behind her, he found himself already looking forward to tomorrow.

This time, he didn’t mind that he was talking too much.

It was a slow evening at the radio station. Mingyu leaned back in his chair, spinning lazily in circles while a groovy indie track filled the studio. The red ON AIR sign glowed softly above the window, casting the room in a warm, familiar light.  

"Alright, everyone," Mingyu said into the mic as the song faded. His voice slid effortlessly into his signature radio tone—smooth, playful, and just a touch self-deprecating. "It's your favorite over-sharer again. If you're tuning in tonight, let me know you're out there. Send me your requests, your shout-outs, or your best guess for how long it took me to ruin my dinner plans this week."  

As he flipped through a stack of vinyl records, his thoughts wandered. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the now not so stranger at the café. She had become a regular fixture in his life over such a short time, always sitting in the same corner, writing in that journal of hers.  

The thought made him smile, and before he knew it, he was speaking again.  

"You know," he began, leaning closer to the mic, "there’s this person who’s been hanging around my favorite café lately. They don’t say much, but there’s something about them—you know, the kind of person who’s like a locked treasure chest. You just want to figure out what’s inside. I, of course, have been trying to charm them with my wit and sparkling conversation. Has it worked? I’d say sort of. But hey, persistence is key, right?"  

He chuckled, then added, “Anyway, I’ve decided to name them ‘Mystery Corner Person.’ If you’re listening, MCP, this one’s for you.”  

Mingyu queued up the next track—a dreamy, nostalgic tune that felt just right. As it played, he leaned back and sighed, wondering if she's still listening to hear his ridiculous ramblings.  

But, she did. 

The next morning at the café, y/n walked in earlier than usual, her journal tucked under one arm. Mingyu was sitting at a high top table at the window when they approached him directly.  

“I heard your show last night,” she said, her voice as calm and unreadable as ever.  

Mingyu froze, a muffin balanced precariously in one hand. “Oh, uh—did you?”  

Y/n tilted her head. “Mystery Corner Person?”  

Mingyu’s ears turned pink. “That... might’ve been about you.”  

“I figured.” They placed their journal on the counter, resting their hand on the cover. “You’re very open. I was waiting for you to bring it up actually.”  

“I like to think it’s part of my charm,” he said, flashing a sheepish grin.  

For a moment, they just stared at him, and Mingyu worried he’d made a fool of himself again. But then, to his surprise, the stranger smiled—a real, genuine smile.  

“Your persistence is let’s just say.. entertaining,” she said, her voice carrying the faintest hint of warmth.  

Mingyu felt a rush of relief and a spark of something else—hope, maybe. “Does this mean you’ll give me a shot? By being friends, I mean. Or acquaintances. Or—well, anything, really.”  

Y/n chuckled softly, their smile lingering. “I’ll give you a shot.”  

As they turned to head to their usual corner, Mingyu couldn’t help but grin. It wasn’t much, but it was something. And for the first time, he felt like he might actually be breaking through that carefully guarded exterior.  

He picked up his muffin and placed it back on the plate, walking over to their table with a little extra bounce in his step. Maybe his tendency to talk too much wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

“So, mystery corner person,” Mingyu started, his voice light, playful. “Does this mean we’re friends now, or are you just humoring me?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her lips quivering. “I’d say we’re on the road to friendship. But I wouldn’t get too comfortable just yet.”

“Fair enough,” Mingyu said, leaning against the back of the chair across from her, still standing. He tried to suppress the urge to keep talking, but the words came tumbling out before he could stop them. “I’ll take what I can get. Besides, I’ve learned that sometimes it’s the quiet ones who have the best stories, and I’m betting you’ve got some good ones. Maybe you’ll share them with me one day.”

Y/N chuckled softly, the sound melodic. “I’m not exactly one for sharing my whole life, though. Not yet, anyway.”

“Well, no pressure,” Mingyu said quickly, lifting his hands as if in mock surrender. “You’ve got your own time. But I’ve got to warn you—I’m a terrible secret keeper. So if you start telling me anything too wild, I might end up broadcasting it.”

“Sounds dangerous,” Y/N replied, her tone a little teasing. “I’ll make sure to be careful around you then.”

Mingyu smiled at the playful challenge in her voice. He was surprised how easy it felt to talk to her now. There was something about her calm, unruffled nature that made him feel comfortable in a way he hadn’t expected.

He sat down at the edge of the table, leaning forward. “Alright, alright. I’ll stop with the radio host charm for now,” he said, waving his hand dramatically. “But you should know, it’s a hard habit to break. I’ve been talking to a microphone alone for so long, I forget there are real people out there sometimes.”

Y/N glanced at him over the rim of her coffee cup, the corner of her mouth turning up in a small smile. “I think it’s a good thing. You’ve got a way of making everything sound a little brighter.”

Mingyu blinked at her, taken aback by the unexpected compliment. He wasn’t sure how to respond at first, but he found himself chuckling, trying to play it cool. “Well, thank you. That’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s said about my rambling.”

Y/N gave a slight shrug, but her eyes sparkled. “You make it sound like rambling is a bad thing. Sometimes, it’s nice to just say things and see where they go.”

“See?” Mingyu said, leaning in as if he’d cracked a code. “That’s what I’m talking about. You get it. You’re a fellow over-sharer in disguise, I just know it.”

Y/N let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Maybe. But I’ll have to decide whether you’re worthy of knowing my secrets first.”

“Well, I can’t promise I won’t annoy you with my stories,” Mingyu said with a wink. “But I’m pretty good at keeping secrets. If it makes you feel better, I won’t be sharing anything you don’t want me to.”

“Hmm, we’ll see about that,” Y/N said, a sly smile tugging at her lips.

Mingyu chuckled, standing up from his chair and giving a mock bow. “Alright, I’ll leave you to write. But, just so you know, I’m very persistent, so you’re going to be seeing a lot of me, mystery corner person.” 

Y/n just waved him off, “For someone who wanted to learn my name so badly you’re in the habit of not using it.” 

“Ah, you’ll be hearing a lot more of it. Don’t worry too much.” 

Y/N shook her head with a faint smile, but just as he turned to leave, something tugged at her resolve. She called out after him, her voice hesitant yet firm enough to stop him in his tracks. “Mingyu?”

“Yeah?” He turned around quickly, almost like he’d been waiting for her to say his name again. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the air between them felt charged, words hanging unspoken.

Y/N hesitated, her fingers brushing the edge of her notebook as if it could anchor her nerves. “Would you want to have dinner or something? I mean now that we’re friends, I figured we could hang out more. Not just over coffee.”

Mingyu’s expression softened into a genuine smile, one that reached his eyes and made them crinkle at the corners. “I’d love that,” he said without hesitation. “How about tonight? I’m off at 7:30. Can we meet at Yeatta’s? It’s just a block or two from here.”

“Yeah, that works for me,” Y/N replied, her heart skipping a beat as she tried to play it cool.

“Great,” Mingyu said, his excitement barely contained as he gave her a small wave. “I’ll see you there, Y/N.”

As he walked away, Y/N found herself staring at the space he had just vacated, her lips curving into an uncontrollable smile. There was something about Mingyu that made her heart feel lighter—like maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something worth holding onto.

Mingyu arrived at Yeatta’s at exactly 7:25, five minutes early but not surprising given the way he bounced on the balls of his feet, clearly eager. When Y/N walked in a minute later, scanning the small, warmly lit restaurant, she found him standing by the entrance, his smile lighting up as soon as he spotted her. 

“Right on time,” he teased, holding the door open for her. “I was starting to think you might stand me up.”

“Oh, please,” Y/N shot back, smirking as she stepped inside. “You’d just hunt me down at the coffee shop tomorrow.”

“True,” Mingyu admitted with a grin. “I’m nothing if not persistent.” 

They were seated at a cozy booth near the back, the smell of wood-fired pizza and roasted garlic wafting through the air. The atmosphere was relaxed, with dim lighting and soft jazz playing in the background. Y/N found herself relaxing more than she expected, her usual hesitations melting away under Mingyu’s easy charm.

“So,” Mingyu began, unfolding his napkin with a flourish, “are you going to finally tell me what you were writing so furiously in that notebook of yours?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow as she picked up the menu. “You mean the “mystery notebook” that you keep trying to pry into? Not a chance.”

“Come on,” he said, leaning forward with an exaggerated pout. “You can’t keep a secret forever. Especially not from me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “Nice try. Maybe if you guess right, I’ll tell you.”

“Deal.” Mingyu grinned like he had already won. “But first, what’s your go-to comfort food? And what drinks should we get? I need to know if you’re a pizza or pasta person before it kills me.”

“Depends on the mood,” she said, glancing over the menu. “But tonight? Definitely pasta and red wine. You?”

“Pizza all the way, yes to the wine for sure, I might get white though? Better for the red sauce is what I’ve heard before, not sure if it’s true.” he said confidently. “ But I’m flexible. We can share if you want to try both.”

The waiter had just placed their wine glasses on the table, a rich red for Y/N and a sparkling white for Mingyu, who claimed he wasn’t much of a wine connoisseur but was always up for a little sparkle. As they clinked their glasses, the sound rang out softly, blending into the warm hum of conversation around them. 

“To new friends,” Mingyu said with a grin. 

“And persistent ones,” Y/N added with a sly smile before taking a sip. The wine was smooth, warming her from the inside as much as the company did. 

“So,” Mingyu began, leaning back comfortably in his chair, “tell me something about you I wouldn’t guess just by looking at you.”

Y/N tilted her head, thinking as she swirled the wine in her glass. “Hm,I used to play the cello when I was younger. Like, seriously. Competitions and everything.”

“No way,” Mingyu said, his eyes widening in surprise. “Why don’t you still play?”

“I got too busy with school, life, and, well, other things took over,” she said with a shrug, a touch of wistfulness in her voice. “But it was fun while it lasted. Your turn.”

“Something you wouldn’t guess about me?” Mingyu echoed, rubbing his chin theatrically. “Alright. I once auditioned for a cooking show.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously? What happened?”

“Well,” he began, leaning in like he was about to reveal a deep, dark secret, “I made it to the second round. But then I totally botched a dessert challenge because I got the sugar and salt mixed up.”

Y/N burst out laughing, nearly spilling her wine. “Oh no! What were you trying to make?”

“A soufflé,” Mingyu groaned, dramatically slumping in his chair. “I thought I’d be impressive, but instead, I made the world’s saltiest disaster.”

“I would’ve loved to see that,” Y/N said, still laughing. “You’re brave, though. I can barely cook for myself, let alone under pressure.”

“Well, lucky for you, I happen to be a pretty decent cook these days,” Mingyu said with a wink. “Maybe I’ll redeem myself and cook for you sometime.”

Y/N arched an eyebrow but smiled. “We’ll see about that. I’ll be the judge. Ramsay style.” 

The conversation naturally shifted as the wine loosened their inhibitions. Y/N talked about her love for old bookstores and how she could lose hours flipping through dusty pages, imagining the lives of people who owned them before. Mingyu shared his obsession with spontaneous road trips, confessing that he once drove five hours just to try a diner he saw on TV. 

“You’re kidding,” Y/N said, incredulous but amused. “Was it worth it?”

“Absolutely,” Mingyu said, his eyes lighting up at the memory. “Best blueberry pancakes of my life..”

Y/N shook her head, smiling. “You’re so carefree. I don’t know if I could ever just get up and go like that.” 

“Why not?” Mingyu asked, genuinely curious. “Sometimes the best moments are the unplanned ones.”

“Maybe,” she conceded, taking another sip of wine. “But I’m more of a planner. I like knowing what’s ahead.”

“Well,” Mingyu said, his tone playful but with a trace of sincerity, “if you ever feel like throwing the plan out the window, let me know. I’m pretty good at finding adventures.”

Their conversation was momentarily interrupted when the waiter approached with their pizza—a perfectly charred margherita, the thin crust bubbling with golden edges, fresh basil leaves glistening against the vibrant red of the tomato sauce. The aroma alone made Y/N’s stomach rumble, but neither of them reached for a slice right away. Instead, they lingered over their wine, the warm, dim light casting a golden glow over the table as their laughter filled the space between them.

Mingyu leaned back in his chair, his grin wide as he recounted one of his more daring childhood memories. “So, I was about ten, and I decided I was going to build the fucking coolest treehouse in the neighborhood,” he said, gesturing animatedly. “I had this old plank of wood, some rusty nails, and no clue what I was doing, obviously. I climbed up this huge tree in my backyard—like, way higher than I should’ve—and started hammering away. Next thing I know, one of the branches snapped, and there I was, dangling halfway up the tree, screaming for my mom.”

Y/N gasped, covering her mouth with her hand, but the corners of her lips twitched in amusement. “No way. You didn’t fall, did you?”

“No,” Mingyu said, shaking his head dramatically. “But I was stuck for maybe three hours? My mom had to call the neighbors to bring a ladder. And the worst part? My treehouse was just some lame ass piece of wood dangling from the tree like I was. It wasn’t exactly the cool architectural design I pictured.”

Y/N burst out laughing, nearly spilling her wine. “That’s hilarious. I can totally picture you as this ambitious little kid, full of big plans and no backup.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Mingyu said, chuckling. “I had all the ideas but zero execution. What about you? Any wild childhood adventures? Secret missions rather, since you’re a mystery.” 

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then her expression softened, a faraway look in her eyes. “You’re a little bit of a smartass, huh? When I was fifteen, I used to sneak out of the house late at night—not to go to parties or anything. I’d climb out my bedroom window and bike to this hill just outside town. It was the perfect spot to stargaze. I’d lie there for hours, just staring at the sky, convinced I was going to be an astronomer one day. And as I got older I still go sometimes, just to have a beer and sit alone, it helps me relax.”

Mingyu’s smile softened, his gaze lingering on her as she spoke. “That sounds really nice actually,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Why astronomy?”

“I think I liked how small it made me feel,” Y/N admitted, swirling her wine glass absently. “Like, no matter how big my problems seemed, they were nothing compared to the universe. Plus, I thought if I studied the stars, maybe I could find some meaning up there. I was always sort of lost as a kid, too shy to make a lot of friends, too terrible at sports to have nobody laughing at me when I would try out for teams, all that.”

“I feel like you’re selling yourself short,” Mingyu said sincerely. “So you still go?”

Y/N shook her head, a wistful smile tugging at her lips. “Not as much anymore. Life got busier, you know? But I think about it sometimes. I miss how peaceful it was.”

“Well,” Mingyu said, leaning forward with a playful glint in his eyes, “next time you want to chase stars, let me know. I think I have a spot you’d like.”

Y/N laughed, raising an eyebrow. “You’d sit in silence under the stars? No smart ass remarks or treehouse stories?”

“Hey, shut up. I can be quiet,” Mingyu defended, though his grin gave him away. “For a little while, at least. But no promises if I see a shooting star. You’re supposed to make a wish, right? Mine would be to bring alcohol and snacks.”

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head as she reached for a slice of pizza at last. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here we are,” he teased, raising his glass for another toast. As their glasses clinked again, their laughter and stories spilled over like the wine in their glasses—easy, unhurried, and warm. Mingyu leaned back in his seat, his wine glass balanced loosely in his hand, and gave Y/N a look that was equal parts playful and sincere. “I’m serious, though. You tell me when you want to go stargazing, and I’ll make it happen. Snacks, drinks, blankets—you name it. I’ll even promise to be quiet for the first ten minutes.”

Y/N smirked, taking a small bite of her pizza. “Ten whole minutes of silence? That might actually be a record for you.”

“Don’t push it,” Mingyu shot back with a laugh. “You’d miss my voice too much.”

“Debatable,” she teased, but her smile lingered, softening the edge of her words.

They fell into a comfortable rhythm, their conversation weaving between playful banter and moments of genuine connection. Mingyu asked her more about her writing, his questions thoughtful and encouraging, and Y/N found herself sharing more than she expected—her half-formed ideas, her struggles with self-doubt, and her dream of one day publishing a book that might make someone feel the way she did when she opened a favorite story.

“I feel like you’re already halfway there,” Mingyu said, his tone serious now. “You light up when you talk about it. It’s nice to see you smile talking about something.”

She looked down at her glass, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. “You make it sound so easy.”

“Maybe it’s not easy,” he admitted, “but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth it. Besides, if you ever need a cheerleader, I’m available. Very affordable, too—just pay me in pizza.”

Y/N laughed, her nerves dissolving under his earnest encouragement. “I’ll keep that in mind. What about you? What’s your big dream?”

Mingyu hesitated for a moment, tapping his fingers lightly on the table. “Honestly? I think I’m still figuring it out. But I know I want to make people happy, you know? Whether it’s through cooking, making them laugh, or just being there when they need someone. That’s what feels right to me.”

“That’s a pretty great dream,” Y/N said, her voice softening. “And I think you’re already doing it.”

Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, the noise of the restaurant seemed to fade away. Mingyu’s smile turned a little sheepish, and he scratched the back of his neck. “Well, I’m glad to know I’ve got at least one satisfied customer.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “You’re not  terrible company, I guess.”

“High praise,” Mingyu teased, raising his glass again. “To not being terrible company.”

Y/N clinked her glass against his, her laughter mixing with his as they returned to their meal. As the night wore on, the slices slowly disappeared, but the conversation never lost its spark. They lingered long after the plates were cleared, talking about everything from childhood dreams to places they wanted to travel.

Eventually, the waiter discreetly dropped off the check, and Mingyu reached for it without hesitation. “Don’t even think about it,” he said when Y/N protested.

“I could’ve at least split it with you,” she said, crossing her arms.

“You could have,” Mingyu replied with a cheeky grin. “But then I wouldn’t get to say I treated you on our first official hangout. You can cover the snacks for stargazing—deal?”

Y/N sighed, shaking her head with a smile. “Deal.”

As they stepped out into the crisp night air, the city lights casting a soft glow on the streets, Mingyu turned to her. “So, was I as annoying as you thought I’d be?”

“Annoying? Yes,” Y/N said, her lips twitching in amusement. “But I don’t mind.”

“I’ll take it,” Mingyu said with a laugh. “Thanks for tonight, Y/N. It was probably one of the most fun things I’ve done in a while.” 

“It was,” she admitted, surprised by how much she meant it. “See you tomorrow, persistent coffee guy?”

“Oh, you’ll see me,” he said, winking before turning to head down the street. “Unless I see you first, Mysterious Corner Person.”

Y/N watched him walk away, a warmth settling in her chest. As she started toward home, she couldn’t help but smile, already looking forward to their next meeting.

As the dawn broke, the soft glow of the morning sun streamed through the windows of the café, casting a warm hue over everything. Y/N sat at her usual corner spot, absently scrolling through her phone while waiting for her favorite annoying friend. The comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mingling with the sound of light chatter and the clinking of cups. She hadn’t quite managed to shake off the memory of last night—Mingyu's laughter, the way his eyes sparkled when he spoke, and the lingering warmth of their conversation.

Just as she checked her watch to see if Mingyu had been late or not, she heard the tinkle of the doorbell, drawing her attention. In walked Mingyu, a wide grin plastered on his face, walking up to grab two steaming cups of coffee in his hands. Y/N’s heart did a little flip; she couldn't help but smile back as he approached her with the casual confidence that always made her stomach flutter.

“I brought you your favorite,” he said, placing the cup in front of her. “Consider this an apology for being too charming last night. I didn’t mean to sweep you off your feet or anything.” The teasing lilt in his voice made Y/N chuckle, though she rolled her eyes playfully, masking the warmth tinting her cheeks.

“Too charming, huh? Is that even a thing?” she shot back, taking a sip and savoring the familiar taste. With every interaction, she found herself drawn deeper into the lighthearted banter they had cultivated. He sat down across from her, his playful nature washing away any remnants of a serious morning.

As days turned into weeks, those spontaneous coffee runs became the highlight of Y/N's mornings. Each day, Mingyu would find a new reason to linger—asking about her weekend plans, recounting strange dreams that had caused him to wake up giggling, or debating the merits of pineapple on pizza. There were moments when their conversations would drift into deeper territory, discussing their aspirations, fears, and the odd twists life threw their way. 

Y/N soon discovered that Mingyu had an uncanny ability to make even the most mundane topics feel important. One Tuesday, as they squabbled over the best pizza toppings, he insisted, “Peppers and onions bring out the true flavor of the cheese!” which led to an impromptu debate that had them both laughing until their sides hurt. 

She found herself anticipating these morning rituals, a bubble of happiness blossoming in her chest at the mere thought of seeing him. What started as a casual coffee run had morphed into something undeniably special—she began to crave his company more than she cared to admit. 

Despite her attempts to play it cool, every shared laugh, every gently lingering gaze exchanged started to intertwine their lives in ways she hadn’t expected. Each day, the corner café felt a little more like a second home, not just because of the coffee, but because of Mingyu’s presence. Occasionally, she’d catch herself daydreaming about what it would be like to invite him over for a pizza night or to share a quiet evening watching movies, a little voice in her head whispering fears of slipping from friendship into something deeper—something beautiful yet terrifying.

But for now, they relished the simplicity—the easy comfort of shared coffee, laughter, and the exhilarating thrill of something unspoken hanging softly between them, waiting for the right moment to blossom.

After weeks of easy laughter and coffee-filled mornings, Mingyu—emboldened by Y/N's growing fondness for their time together—decided it was time to showcase his culinary prowess. He had mentioned his love for cooking during one of their coffee chats, specifically teasing about a past cooking show attempt that had ended in disaster when he mistakenly used salt instead of sugar in a dessert. It was an absolute failure, but the way he recounted it had left Y/N in stitches, and she couldn’t help but encourage him to put that experience behind him. 

So it was with a mischievous smile that Mingyu sent her a message inviting her over to his place for a “proper meal.” His confidence was infectious, and Y/N found herself excited at the prospect of spending an evening cooking together, even if she glimpsed a little fear behind her excitement.

That Saturday evening, Y/N arrived at his apartment with a spring in her step, holding a bottle of wine as her contribution to the dinner. Mingyu greeted her at the door, a cute apron tied around his waist, and his hair slightly tousled as if he had been preparing all day. The kitchen already smelled inviting, with the simmering of something savory in the background.

“Welcome to my kitchen.” he declared, flinging open his arms in mock grandeur. “Prepare to be blown away.” Y/N giggled, feeling a playful banter already brewing between them as they stepped into the kitchen. 

They started a little unsure, mixing up ingredients and dancing around each other in the small space. Laughter filled the air as he guided her through the preparation of their meal. Chopping vegetables turned into a chopping competition, resulting in some accidentally discarded pieces flying across the countertop. They were both a bit clumsy, but it only added to the charm of the evening. 

However, chaos ensued as Y/N intentionally mixed up the sugar and salt while measuring the ingredients for the sauce. As a callback to make fun of Mingyu’s cooking show embarrassment hoping he wouldn’t take it to heart too much. 

Mingyu’s face morphed from confusion to pure horror as he tasted the sauce. “What is this? Are you fucking with me?” he exclaimed, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably, a burst of laughter erupting between them.

“Hey, I thought we could give you a call back to your days as an aspiring chef. You were just telling me to ‘add seasoning’!” Y/N retorted, her laughter bubbling over. 

The kitchen transformed into a battleground of flour and spills as they attempted to clean up the mess, dashing here and there grabbing paper towels and laughing uncontrollably as they dodged flour clouds that seemed intent on sticking to every surface—including themselves. The floor bore witness to a sprinkling of flour footprints leading from sink to counter and back. 

“Okay, okay. Clearly, we’re not going to win a Michelin star tonight,” Mingyu chuckled, wiping a hand across his forehead, flour now dusting his cheek. 

“Maybe we should just clean up and order takeout? Sorry for fucking up your nice meal” Y/N suggested with a grin, realizing neither of them had even started on the main course yet. 

“I have a feeling this was your plan all along, think I’m going to poison you?” He nodded enthusiastically. 

“Absolutely.” 

They huddled over his phone, browsing menus and sharing a laugh about different food combinations, all the while enjoying the relaxed comfort of each other’s company. As they placed their order, Mingyu playfully bemoaned the “greatest culinary disaster of the century,” and Y/N couldn’t help but tease him about his cooking abilities.

When the food finally arrived, they sat down on the couch, a jumble of takeout containers and mismatched plates, laughter still dancing in the air. They dug in, enjoying their food with a warmth that stemmed not just from the flavors but from the shared experience that had turned their simple dinner into pure chaos, followed by comfort as their legs touched settled into his cozy sofa, which they both pretended not to acknowledge. 

In between bites, their conversation flowed easily, the earlier chaos of the kitchen forgotten, only to be replaced by gentle teasing and heartfelt discussions. The evening had not gone as planned, yet in those moments, Y/N felt a closeness to Mingyu that she hadn't fully anticipated and wasn’re sure what it meant. 

As they polished off the last of their takeout, they leaned back against the couch, feeling the loosening tension from the day, laughter still bubbling between them. She glanced at him, his face lit up with a satisfied grin, and realized that this was far more memorable than if everything had gone perfectly. The spilled flour and overly salty sauce had become their personal anecdotes, stories to reminisce about, etched into their growing relationship. 

And even amid the mess, she felt something shift—this was more than just a casual evening; it was a bond that deepened with every laugh shared and every slight mistake made together. In the cozy warmth of the moment, Y/N found herself contemplating just how right it felt to be here with Mingyu. 

“Do you-” 

They both said at the same time, their laughter flowing still. Y/n prompted Mingyu to talk first, grabbing the can of sweating beer sitting on his coffee table and taking a swig. 

“No, just do you ever think about how crazy it is that we met each other?” Mingyu watched y/n's expression as if she was a television character. “We were strangers a few weeks ago and now here we are, I feel like I’ve known you my whole life.” 

Y/N felt a warmth bloom in her chest at his words, a flutter of something electric that made her heart race. Swallowing her sip of beer, she considered his question, the implications of it wrapping around her like a blanket. “It is sort of crazy,” she replied softly, leaning back against the couch and crossing her arms as she reflected on their journey. “Just a few weeks ago, we were two random people in a coffee shop, sharing awkward small talk over our drinks.”

Mingyu chuckled, his laughter warm and inviting, causing Y/N to smile at the memory. “Right? I remember how you tried to hide your eye roll when I started rambling about my guilty pleasure shows. You've been way more patient with my quirks than I deserve.”

“Hey, you didn’t have to twist my arm to talk about junk food and reality TV. That’s a gift you offered me,” she replied, nudging him playfully with her elbow. “But seriously, I don’t know. It just feels almost too easy with you.”

He nodded, the sincerity on his face deepening. “Absolutely. I had this fear that after my cooking show mishap, I’d never cook for anyone ever again. But, somehow, I feel comfortable with you. Like I can be myself—flour-covered and all.. 

“I get that.” she replied, her heart still racing from the way his eyes searched hers, filled with an openness that was rarely offered. “It’s everything—our late-night talks about nothing and everything, all those moments and I like that I don’t feel pressure to impress you.”

Mingyu’s gaze softened as he let her words sink in, a smile spreading across his face—a mix of relief and happiness. “I feel the same way. I guess it’s nice to find someone who can appreciate you for who you are, flaws and all.”

“I thought you didn’t have any flaws?” 

The atmosphere shifted slightly, a gentle gravity settling around them as they shared this moment of vulnerability. It felt like the world outside had faded away, leaving only the sacred space between them filled with thoughtful breaths and unspoken words.

Then, suddenly, Mingyu leaned a little closer, his elbow resting on his knee as he caught her gaze with an intensity that made her heart flutter even more. “You know… I think the best part about getting to know you is discovering how we both navigate our own messiness. We’re both a little chaotic in our own ways, and it’s refreshing to find someone else who can embrace that.”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up as Mingyu’s honesty wrapped around her like warmth. She knew that beneath the laughter and playful teasing, he was speaking to something significant happening between them. “It’s like we balance each other out, right? Your zero flaws perfectly complement my complete lack of many. ”

He threw his head back in laughter, and it vibrated through them both like a comforting echo. Touching her thigh out of instinct. 

Mingyu’s expression shifted then, his eyes earnest yet playful as he leaned in closer, robes of laughter giving way to something deeper. “Okay, but in all seriousness—what do you think happens next for us? I mean, if we keep this up?”

Y/N swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his question, a mixture of excitement and vulnerability swirling in her chest. Tilting her head slightly, she studied his face, a thought bubbling to the surface that she hadn’t articulated before. “I guess we keep figuring it out. I know that’s a lame ass answer, but-” 

Mingyu’s face brightened, and he nodded enthusiastically. “We’ll have takeout nights, of course—maybe even attempt cooking again when we’re feeling bold.”

“Yes. But with a solid plan in place this time,” she teased, her heart warming at his enthusiasm. “whatever this is.”

“Whatever this is,” he echoed with a soft smile, stretching his arm out along the back of the couch, leaving just enough space for her to lean against him if she wanted to. The gesture lingered in the air, an invitation that made her pulse quicken.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N felt a wave of courage washing over her. She shifted closer, rationally giving way to instinct, and in that moment of intimacy, she let herself lean against him, their bodies fitting together effortlessly. 

“And I wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else,” she murmured softly, feeling a profound shift in their dynamic as she nestled against Mingyu’s side. Warmth enveloped her, not just from his body, but from the genuine connection they had forged. She took her hands to his warm cheeks and brushed off the lingering flour, running her fingers over his soft lips. 

Mingyu’s arm instinctively draped around her shoulders, holding her close, and she felt an undeniable sense of belonging in his presence. “You can’t be this close to me and not kiss me.” he replied quietly, and she could hear the sincerity in his voice, the gravity of their shared moment.

As she stared at him in silence for a minute, a smile washed over her face as she leaned in and made a path to his lips with hers instead at the last minute swerving and giving him a kiss on the cheek playfully. 

Laughter bubbled between them, lightening the tension that had built in the air. Mingyu looked momentarily surprised, his eyes widening and brows raising in mock disappointment. “Oh, come on. That was a dick move.”

Y/N giggled, the sound of a playful melody that danced around them in the cozy space. “I couldn’t help it. The look on your face was so worth it.” She winked mischievously, enjoying how their moment, which had felt so heavy and charged just seconds before, had shifted into this playful teasing.

Mingyu chuckled, shaking his head in playful disbelief. “You’re so mean.” He feigned frustration, but the warmth of his expression and the sparkle in his eyes told her just how much he enjoyed her whimsy.  

Pride swelled within her at his compliment, and her cheeks flushed at the spontaneity of it all. They were sharing this beautiful blend of fun and intimacy—a carefree-ness that made her heart flutter and her stomach twist into knots of anticipation. She hesitated for a moment, still wrapped in the warmth of his presence, contemplating allowing the moment to settle in further. 

“Okay, okay… I’ll redeem myself,” she said softly, meeting his gaze with a hint of seriousness beneath her earlier teasing. The shift in her tone caught his attention, and his playful expression faded slightly, replaced with an intensity that made her pulse quicken.

“Are you sure?” Mingyu asked, his voice low and filled with a vulnerability that made her heart ache in the best way. 

Y/N bit her lip, feeling the boldness wash over her again, surpassing any lingering nerves. “I am,” she assured him, her heart hammering as she leaned in closer this time, matching his gaze as they hovered just inches apart. “I guess we’ve come too far to hold back now, right?” 

“Right,” he breathed, his eyes darkening with something primal, something that sent a shiver of excitement coursing through her. The air between them felt charged, electric, as if they were daring each other to bridge the final distance.

In one swift movement, she closed the small gap, finally pressing her lips against his in a soft, tentative kiss. It was gentle at first, teetering on the edge of hesitation, but as Mingyu responded—his lips molding to hers with a warmth she'd yearned for.

Time seemed to blur around them as they savored the kiss, allowing the moment to expand, realizing that this was a milestone in their relationship. Y/N’s heart raced as she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him closer still; she could feel the way he leaned into her, matching her eagerness. Each touch ignited sparks, tossing her into a whirlwind of longing that was both intoxicating and exhilarating. 

When they finally pulled back, breathless, she leaned her forehead against his, her heart racing from the tenderness that hung in the air between them. Mingyu’s eyes were bright, reflecting the disbelief and joy of their shared moment. “Wow.” 

“Yeah?” she asked softly, a shy smile breaking across her face. “Because, I’d say it was mediocre.” 

The lightness returned, and Mingyu laughed, the sound lifting her spirits even more. “Shut up, you’re a liar, you were basically begging me for more. ”

“I might need another later, just so you can redeem yourself.” 

“I can make that happen, you know.” 

They grinned at each other, a shared understanding deepening their connection even further. The world outside felt like an echo, distant and unimportant as they savored this newfound bond, filled with untapped potential and the joy of each other’s company.

“Can you imagine what our friends would say if they knew we spent the night making a mess and then ended with a make-out session?” Mingyu said, his laughter still dancing in the air.

Y/N shook her head, chuckling softly. “Who knows? They might be incredibly jealous we got to have missed out on our “disaster” of an evening. But honestly, I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

“Me neither,” he replied, his tone shifting back to sincerity. “But just so you know, I’m claiming the next time we cook together you just sit and watch.”

“And why is that?” Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow in playful skepticism, her heart dancing at his enthusiasm.

“So I can look sexy for you in the kitchen and you might kiss me again, obviously.” he declared dramatically. 

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, her heart swelling with affection for his silliness. “Alright, chef. You have yourself a deal. But next time? I’m bringing dessert.”

“Maybe I’ll just have you for dessert.” Mingyu said with a teasing grin, and she felt her cheeks flush once again in delight. 

With that playful banter, the rest of the night melted away into easy laughter, light touches, and the thrill of new beginnings. She felt something incredible blooming between them, something beautiful that blended friendship with a newfound romantic spark, and she couldn’t wait to see where their journey might take them next. 

As they settled back on the couch, Y/N nestled against him once more, content with the knowledge that whatever chaos life threw their way, they would tackle it together—with laughter, love, and perhaps a little less clothes involved.

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Too Much (Little Sister Version)

Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by @redbird-tf

Synopsis: you have nightmares of dying like Mary, and you start to get really clingy with Dean.

It started out in a subtle way. Your first nightmare had been vague, and though it had jarred you, it wasn’t enough to curb your day-to-day activities…much.

“I’m going for a supply run.” Dean’s words had you looking up from the homework you’d been working on. “We’re out of beer…and food.”

“I’ll come.” You were on your feet before the words even left your mouth.

“It’s just a quick run,” Dean argued. “Don’t you have homework?”

“It can wait,” you insisted, already on your way to the Impala. “Let’s go!”

Of course it would be Dean—it had always been Dean. Sure, he had his anger issues and his bad moments. He drank too much and he isolated himself when he was upset. But he always came back; when Sam was at Stanford, when dad disappeared, it was always you and Dean.

So when you started having nightmares about burning on the ceiling, Dean was who you turned to.

Scary things shouldn’t phase you anymore, not after all you’d seen. But this was different. Your whole life you’d heard “what happened to mom.” Never any specifics—it was always, “the demon killed mom,” or “what the demon did to Mary.” Nobody ever gave you any details; they always said you didn’t need to know.

So when you snuck into Dean’s room in the bunker and stole dad’s journal, you were in for a surprise.

The pages you’d read had been stuck together—it didn’t look like anyone had read them—and it took you a moment to peel them apart.

I went to visit a shrink today—I thought he might be a vampire. I went in undercover, booked myself an appointment. I figured out pretty quickly that he wasn’t a monster, but I didn’t leave. It sounds stupid, but I actually talked to him. Told him about Mary. Well, as much as I could tell, which is more than I’ve told anyone. Point is, he told me to write down what happened to her. Every detail I could remember. I don’t like thinking about her…but maybe he was right. Little Sammy asked about Mary just the other day, and I yelled at him. I still feel bad…it’s not his fault, he’s just a kid. Maybe this is the only way I’ll be able to talk about her, but maybe that’ll be enough to keep me from going off on the kids. So here goes…

And John had laid out every gory detail of that night, and you’d read the whole thing. You’d always thought it would be better knowing; that it would somehow bring you some extra closure to know how your mother’s final moments went. You were wrong.

And so came the nightmares. The first one was fuzzy and indistinct; a fire, the sound of screaming. But it was enough to have you going with Dean whenever he left the bunker.

The second one was more vivid. It was also when you realized that it wasn’t your mother you were dreaming about—it was you.

It was so real—you felt the demon’s powers slashing open your stomach, you felt your body lifting off the floor…

But the worst part was the heat. It stung your eyes and sizzled against your blood and seared your skin. You tried to scream, but the smoke choked you and stopped your voice. You struggled to inhale, coughing on the smoke and crying at the pain that lit up every nerve ending.

The bright light of the fire left first, then slowly afterwards the pain. But you were still choking and gasping for breath when you sat up in your bed.

“Dean,” you whimpered, the lone word echoing through your empty room. You weren’t quite used to the bunker yet—you were so used to the motels, where your brothers were right next to you at all times. Most of the time it was annoying, but right now…

You threw your covers off you, finally getting a hold of your runaway breathing as you padded barefoot towards your door. You couldn’t stay in this room—it was this room that you’d dreamt of, this ceiling that you’d burned on.

You flung your door open and started down the hall, but you only got halfway to Dean’s room before you stopped. You couldn’t go to him like this, a tear-streaked mess in the middle of the night; he would know something was wrong, and then you’d have to talk about it.

You couldn’t talk about it.

A bang from the kitchen stole your attention and your breath, your mind wandering towards images of a yellow-eyed intruder. You tip-toed to the kitchen, peaking around the corner and breathing easily when you saw Dean rummaging in the fridge for a beer.

You slipped into the kitchen, heading straight for Dean.

“You’re up early,” he greeted, stiffening in surprise when you wrapped your arms around him. “Hey, something wrong?”

“No,” you mumbled, your voice muffled by his shirt. “Good morning,” you added lamely as you pulled away, as if the greeting would explain away the hug.

“Yeah, mornin.” Dean shrugged, choosing to ignore your strange behavior. “Couldn’t sleep? It’s only 5.”

It was later than you’d thought.

“Not really,” you said. “Can we make breakfast?” You weren’t hungry, but you’d take any excuse to keep Dean close.

“Only if you get the bacon,” Dean said with a grin.

“I think we’re out,” you answered.

“Unacceptable,” Dean decided. “You start on the pancakes, I’ll make a run.”

“Wait! Um…” you wracked your brain for an excuse. “Um, the pancakes can wait, I’ll go with you.”

Dean squinted ever so slightly as he stared you down—that was twice in a week that you wanted to go with him to the store without a good reason.

“You sure you’re ok?” He asked.

“Yeah, just…I want some fresh air.”

“Alright.” You both knew he didn’t believe you, but neither of you brought it up again.

You felt pathetic as you trailed behind Dean, but the idea of sitting around the empty bunker alone until he got back or Sam woke up…

You just couldn’t do it. You couldn’t feel safe anymore, not even in your own home, without Dean around.

You sat just a little closer to Dean than you normally would once you got into the Impala, sitting towards the middle of the seat even though the right side was empty. You felt Dean watching you from the corner of his eye, but to your relief he didn’t say anything.

…

“Ok, so how many pounds do we want?” You held a brand of bacon in each hand, eyeing them both. When Dean didn’t respond to your question, you turned around to find the cart there, but no Dean. “Dean?” You glanced up and down the aisle, but he wasn’t in sight. You threw both bacon packages into the cart and ran down the aisle, going down the row and looking frantically down every aisle you passed. Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing.

You rubbed a hand against your chest when your next breath wouldn’t go through your tightened wind pipe. You tried to take deep breaths, but each one was less satisfying than the last. Once you reached the last aisle with still no Dean, you turned around and started back the way you came, hoping that he was down an aisle on the other side of the store.

“Dean? Dean!” You were calling his name, but you could barely even hear your winded and squeaky voice in the vast emptiness of the store, so you knew there was no way Dean could.

You passed the aisle with your cart and kept going, looking down the first, then the second…

“Dean!” You rushed forward, flinging yourself into Dean’s surprised embrace.

“Hey, what happened?” Dean was stiff and alert, whipping his head around to see what had spooked you.

“I couldn’t find you,” you whimpered, tightening your arms around Dean’s midsection. “I-I didn’t know where you went. Don’t do that to me!”

“Ok, ok hey I’m sorry,” Dean soothed, pulling away and kneeling down, brushing your hair out of your face so he could see you. “C’mon, what’s going on with you? What’s got you so spooked?”

You didn’t answer—you just launched yourself forwards and wrapped your arms around Dean’s neck, burrowing your head against his shoulder.

“Don’t leave me,” you pleaded.

“Ok, ok.” Dean held you closely, rubbing your back. “Ok I’m right here kiddo. Let’s get out of here, ok? Let’s go home.”

…

You held Dean’s hand in vice grip on the way out to the car, but he didn’t comment on it. He waited until you were safely bundled into the Impala to speak again.

“Kid, you need to tell me what’s going on here.”

“I’m fine,” you mumbled. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Dean glanced at you, but he didn’t speak again.

…

You were feeling lucky for most of the day—Sam and Dean spent the morning going through books in the library, so you were able to do your homework right next to Dean without warranting worry or attention.

“Check this out.” Sam’s words to Dean had you looking up curiously while Sam turned his computer around. “Looks like a case in town.”

Your heart dropped to your toes—you were too young to hunt, so a hunt in town meant that you sat in the bunker while the boys were out.

They spent the next twenty minutes talking about the case before they got ready to head out. Dean was throwing guns in a bag in his room when you went to find him.

“We’ll be back tonight,” Dean promised. “But if we find the thing that’s killing these people, it might not be until late, so don’t wait up ok?”

“Can’t I come?” Your tug on Dean’s sleeve stopped his movements.

“You know you can’t,” he said. “What’s going on with you? And don’t say nothing, because I know something’s wrong.”

“I just don’t want you to go,” you said. “Please De? Please don’t leave me here alone.”

“You’re not gonna tell me what’s going on?” Dean asked.

You shook your head.

“Then I have no choice.” Dean sighed. “People are dying, and you can’t come. I have to go.” Dean zipped up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “We’ll be back before tomorrow.”

“Dean—“ you reached out for your big brother, but in one stride he was out of your reach, then to the door, then he was gone.

…

You were trying to read the same page over and over, but the words were swimming around the page, blurred by the tears in your eyes and the shaking in your hands that had the pages fluttering. You looked up for the millionth time, a deep pit in your stomach convincing you each time that the yellow eyes demon would be standing in your doorway, waiting to kill you.

You dropped the book on your desk with a thud, finally giving up on homework—you wouldn’t get anything done until Dean was home, you just couldn’t focus.

You picked up your headphones and slipped them over your head, but you found that not being able to hear your surroundings made your anxiety even worse, and the soothing notes of your favorite song did nothing to help for once. You tried turning on the tv, but you found that you couldn’t look away from the door for more than a few seconds before you started to get scared again.

Finally you couldn’t take it anymore—you closed your room door, your bathroom, and even your closet; open doors just had your imagination running away with images of yellow eyes coming to kill you.

You burrowed yourself under the covers and tried to force yourself to sleep. Hour after hour you convinced yourself that you’d just never be able to sleep, but you didn’t have anything else to do but keep trying, so you didn’t move.

You were still laying there when the door opened.

“Hey sweetheart,” Dean greeted. You smiled at him, and he smiled back for a second before the smile faded. “Me and Sammy have another case—we’re gonna be gone a while, ok?”

“No, wait!” You tried to get up to stop Dean, but you couldn’t move. “Dean, don’t go! Dean don’t leave!”

He was already out the door, and in his place stood Azazel, pale yellow eyes glowing in the darkness.

“Dean!” You screamed, but it was too late; your pajamas were already soaked in blood coming from a painful gash across your stomach. You whimpered, finally able to move as you wrapped your arms around the wound as if you could protect yourself. You couldn’t.

You were sobbing as your body lifted off the ground, your stomach lurching as you went from wall to ceiling. There was no warning spark, or small flame—you were just suddenly and completely engulfed in flames, your hair burning and your skin scorched. You were still screaming when Dean came running back into the room.

“Dean,” you whimpered. “Dean no!”

Yellow eyes had a knife in his hand, and he turned it on your big brother in an instant. As the fire burned around you, you watched as Dean got stabbed again and again and again…

You woke up screaming. The fire was gone, and so was the pain, but you couldn’t even tell. Your eyes couldn’t take in a single detail of the room—they were blurry and unfocused from sleep. Your brain couldn’t decipher what parts of your dream were real and what weren’t. You sobbed out short and shaky breaths, and your cries were just starting to fade into whimpers when you heard it; the loud thunk of the bunker door closing.

Your fears and your crying returned full force, and you were gasping for breath as you felt around for any kind of weapon.

He’s coming he’s coming he’s coming he’s coming…

It was like all you could see was Azazel as you heard footsteps echoing down the hallway. You wanted to do what Dean always did—push his fear down, throw away his emotions, and just fight—but you couldn’t. You couldn’t catch your breath, you couldn’t stop sobbing, and you couldn’t find your gun.

When your door handle started to turn, you thought you were going to pass out. Your already-unsatisfying breath caught in your throat, and with the lack of breath came black spots at the edges of your vision.

You forced a single deep breath in and out—you couldn’t be unconscious when the demon came to kill you, you couldn’t be that helpless. You had to fight, even though you would lose.

The door swung open, and you were still gasping for breath and grappling for any kind of weapon when—

When Dean walked in.

“Dean!” You were off the bed and in your brother’s arms before he had a chance to speak.

“Hey, hey what’s going on?” Dean’s arms tightened around you when he heard you sobbing and felt you shaking. “Baby what happened?”

“Don’t leave me,” you begged between sobs. “Don’t leave me De, don’t leave me.”

“Ok, ok I’m not going anywhere,” Dean promised. “N/N I’m right here.”

“What’s going on?” Sam walked into the room, staring at his siblings with concern.

“I…I think we’re ok here,” Dean decided, carrying you to your bed. “You should go bandage that cut, I’ve got her.” When Sam hesitated, Dean assured him, “I’ve got her Sam.”

Sam finally left, and Dean climbed up on your bed, settling you into his lap when you wouldn’t let your vice grip around his neck go.

“I need you to talk to me,” Dean pleaded. “I need to know what’s going on, what this is.”

“There was fire,” you whimpered, your tears soaking Dean’s shirt. “There was fire, and it burned everywhere, and I was bleeding and I was on the ceiling, and-and yellow eyes stabbed you, and—“

“Whoa, whoa, slow down.” Dean started to rock you back and forth subconsciously. “Hey, how do you know about all that stuff.”

“I’m sorry.” You were sobbing again. “I know I wasn’t supposed to, but I read his journal and he wrote down everything and I thought it would help but…but now I can’t stop dreaming about it. I’m so—I’m so scared, De. All the time.”

“Shh, shh you’re ok,” Dean soothed, his hand cradling the back of your head. “I’ve got you sweetheart, I’m right here. Listen,” Dean tried to pull away so he could look at you, but you just tightened your grip. “Ok. I used to have nightmares about mom, too. All the time. I still get them sometimes.”

“You do?” You sniffled. “What do you do about them?”

“Well now it’s easier, because we killed yellow eyes. He’s gone, N/N. Nobody’s ever gonna die like mom did again, especially not you. You know that, right?”

“The dreams feel so real,” you answered.

“I know, I know they do. But they’re not. And I’m gonna help you through this, but kiddo, I can’t be around all the time, you know that. I’ve got a job to do.”

“O—ok,” you sniffled. “I can do better.”

“But I’m still gonna be here when you need me. I promise.”

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“I need you right now.”

Dean’s arms squeezed impossibly tighter around you.

“Then I’m here for you.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz

[legobiwan]

This is such a telling page for Ford. Not only does he detail his social missteps and admit to being lonely in Gravity Falls, despite the scientific wonder of the place, but he also uses what I call "Fordese 2," a scrambled version of the "Fordese 1" code we were first introduced to in Journal 3 to label himself a "six-fingered freak" and to state that "Stanley would have made her laugh." (Her, being the waitress Ford tries out his nerdy science joke on, which goes down like a lead balloon despite the fact that it is legitimately funny, given the right audience).

It's like Bill says. "Ego of a king. The insecurity of a circus freak. And totally isolated..." (Funny enough, Bill could probably turn those exact words on himself, as well.)

Ford so wanted Gravity Falls to be the place where he'd finally fit in, the puzzle to his misshapen puzzle piece.

And as we see in the missing Journal pages from BoB, that was not to be the case. And worst of all? Ford blames it on his hands at first, but the reality is that he says that "Stanley could make her laugh," meaning Ford's "freakishness" (as he would put it) has less to do with his six fingers and much more to do with Ford's personality and the way he interacts with others.

This is actually worse. Fingers, you can fix, if you want to. By the time you're an adult, most people probably wouldn't care. But to Ford, his fingers seem to be more a manifestation of something internal, something he feels is fundamentally broken about him and that's just the absolute worst hell to be stuck in.

So yeah, it's hardly surprising Ford fell so hard for Bill's shenanigans (and you can define "fell so hard" however you want, although that karaoke page in BoB is especially damning). Here's an interdimensional being who not only can guide you to unlocking the secrets of the universe and propel you towards scientific fame and glory (and thus shoving every taunt, invective, side-eye, and eye roll ever hurled at you over the decades down your tormentors' throats) - but he's (on the surface) completely glib about being a freak himself.

For Ford, this must have been like finding a shady, sparkling oasis after thirty years of trawling through the desert (especially after Stanley's "betrayal" - Stanley, who along with Fiddleford, being the only person Ford felt like he could be himself around and still be accepted as a human being).

Now, is Bill trying way too hard to show how much he doesn't care? Uhhh, yeah. Bill has almost the same hangups as Ford. Labeled a freak for a genetic mutation and ostracized by his peers. Has a rare gift in that he can see not only into the third dimension but can see even past that, into possible dimensions and futures, which is a wild skill to have. Compare this with Ford's gigantic science brain and academic overachievement. Same deal. And not only this! Bill, in an attempt to prove what he can do with his "freakishness," to prove his worth and place in the universe - he tries to show off something to the denizens of his dimension (we don't know yet what Bill did), only to end up slaughtering his entire dimension. Ford was a hair's breath away from doing the exact same thing with the portal. Because we know from Journal 3 that part of his motivation is to be famous and get accolades for his work, and that maybe "girls will finally talk to me." (Which, Fordsy, let's be real here - I don't think you're actually into these "girls" for real, but you want the acceptance that comes with fitting in with societal standards, and getting a state-sanctioned girlfriend is exactly the type of thing Ford would want to make himself feel "normal.")

Anyway, the point being that if Ford had succeeded with his initial portal attempt, he would have basically wiped out his own dimension. Just. Like. Bill. And it makes you wonder - yeah, yeah, Bill wanted to party, Bill needed out of the Nightmare Realm, Bill's a psychopath who enjoys destruction.

But honestly? I think part it all was that Bill wanted someone like him. His own puzzle piece. Another monster. A being whose collateral damage in the quest to justify their existence in this universe ends in wholesale slaughter.

And Ford had the capacity to easily fit that mould.

[ifwdominicfike]

the words i cant say

summary - matt is infatuated with you, you’re all he ever thinks about now. having no one to let these secrets out to, he decided why not write about them instead..

it was killing him, having to keep these secrets to himself for so long was tiring. the only thing being his outlet was his journal, pages among pages filled with him just rambling about you. of course he would never tell you these things, afraid of going over your boundaries and ruining the whole friendship.

if you were to ask him what he loved most about you he wouldn’t be able to answer that question, he loved every single bit of you. of course he wrote about that as well, he couldn’t not think about you even if he tried.

a couple weeks ago..

“her everything is perfect, her eyes, her style, her humor, the way her smile brightens when i compliment her on anything - june 19th”

“she looked so pretty today, i kept staring at her lips i hope she didn’t notice.. - june 25th”

“her voice is the sweetest thing i’ve ever heard, i can talk to her for hours - july 12th”

“i cant help but wonder if she thinks about me the way i think about her - july 22nd”

to shorten it down he was in love with you, and he had no plan of telling you anytime soon.

he wanted to push these feelings away, feeling bad for pining over his own best friend while you had no knowledge of it. he couldn’t help it though, he thinks back to the countless amount of times you two had spent together. late night drives, going thrifting, or just staying in watching cheesy rom-com movies.

during group settings his eyes would wonder over to you, staring longingly at you laughing and smiling big while you were having the time of your life. you would turn your head and see his light colored eyes looking at you with a soft expression, which ended up in both of you turning away while heat rushed to your cheeks.

there was some nights where you stayed up thinking about him, just wondering what if? but you brushed it off, thinking maybe its all in your head..

you were coming over today, it was nothing new, you always came over to hang out when you didn’t have anything specifically planned. you were excited to see matt, you haven’t seen him in two weeks due to his work schedule and all of his meetings piled up. he finally had a free day and you were overly excited when he asked you if you wanted to hang out.

you loved spending time with him, no matter what it was. as long as it was with him you were happy.

he had texted you to come whenever you wanted, you were already in pretty comfy clothes so you got your keys and left. the drive there was calm, music flowing through the car consumed the silence and before you know it you’re already in their driveway.

you texted matt that you were outside already and not even a minute passes before you hear the door unlock and open, you were met with his disheveled figure, hair messy, slightly cropped shirt and sweatpants resting low on his waist..

“finally kid you’re here, you were taking forever” a smile spread across his face as he rolled his eyes sarcastically. you step inside as he holds the door for you, “i haven’t seen you in forever and you already have a attitude??” you say raising an eyebrow as you set your keys down on the table.

“oh come on, you know i missed you doll.” that name. you didn’t hear it often but when you did your cheeks would turn bright red as you stumble over your words. that stupid grin on his face said everything you needed to know. “i missed you too, matt!!” you flashed a cheesy smile at him before you felt his arms wrap around you and pull you into his chest.

a couple months ago..

“the feeling of her arms around my waist feels so right.. wish i could always have her this close. - january 17th”

“she has to know what she’s doing, right?? fuck. her smile makes me weak. - january 29th”

“she looked gorgeous in that top with the little bow, her hair done up differently, her pretty jewelry scattered around her figure as well, i couldn’t help but steal glances each time she wasn’t looking in the car. - february 6th”

you return the hug, his comforting scent surrounds you, making you feel at peace. finally feeling his warmth that you longed for for a little too long, you both pull away and his face lights up. “shit- i forgot i had gotten you something when i was away, come on” your face forms into a confused expression “you didn’t have to do that matt, you know that right??” your smile still being very evident as you protest him getting you a gift.

“yeah yeah i know, but it made me think of you so i haddd to get it!” he grabbed your hand and dragged you over to his room, you flop down on the bed as he searches around looking for the gift. you hear him scattering around while muttering words to himself until a certain book under his pillow catches your eye.. you didn’t know matt was getting into reading? “ooh matt what book are you reading?” you hold it up to show him the hardcover journal.

“huh? im not readin- WAIT!“ you open it up to see your name on the first page, several times actually. you scan through it curiously, you finally realize that it was definitely not a regular book. he was basically confessing his love to you in every single page, matt was too late as he rushed over to you snatching the book from your hands.

you quickly stand up, jaw basically on the floor and your face redder than ever. you didn’t even know what to say, its not like you didn’t feel the same because you did.. its just you couldn’t believe he wrote all of that about you. “l-look y/n i can explain i just-“ his words coming out in stutters “matt, matt please, just calm down. okay? y-you’re okay, come on..” you lead him back over to his bed, both of you sitting down at the edge. “im really, really sorry y/n you weren’t supposed to read that. i understand if you feel uncomfortable or if you wanna leav-“ you cut him off bringing your hand to his cheek and leaning in, your lips colliding with his.

you caught him off guard but he instantly kisses back, you smile into the kiss and bring your other hand to back of his neck pulling him more in. his hands traveling down to your hips, holding onto you like you could disappear any moment. you both finally pull away, heavy breathing while you watch that same stupid grin form on his face.

“what?” you ask laughing. “nothing, its just- i’ve always thought i would be the one to kiss you first” his smirk growing wider by the second. “oh shut up, you’re so corny” you roll your eyes in a playful manner and push at his shoulder a little.

“i really did mean it you know? everything i said in that journal. you really, really mean a lot to me and i- i can’t see myself loving anyone else other than you y/n. since the first day i met you.” tears forming in your eyes as he continues to talk, “you mean everything to me. words can’t express how i feel for you, i would’ve said something sooner but i didn’t wanna ruin the relationship we already had and-“ you laugh at his mouth running off again, his nervousness taking over once more.

“matt, please im so sorry but shh. i feel the same way, you weren’t really the best at hiding that staring problem of yours you know..” you giggle at his embarrassed expression “i love you, a lot. you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, you were always there for me whenever i needed someone and you never fail to make my days better. i love you so much.” he watches you in awe, how could someone so precious be in front of him right now?

“so does this mean like, im your boyfriend now, right..?” you giggle and take his hand into yours “well.. i dont know, i haven’t been asked yet..” he smiles and gives your hand a small kiss. “y/n, may i be your boyfriend?” your smile growing ten times bigger before you nod your head immediately. “yes, yes yes YES!” your arms instantly wrapping around his neck as you pull him into another kiss, this time it was filled with love, and patience. the world stopped the second you two filled the gap in between, until you feel him pull back.

“i love you so fucking much y/n. words wont ever be enough for me to show you how much i really do.”

“wait. what about my gift though?”

- avery’s note ˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡-

my first fic.. this took me like 2 days to write because i had no idea on how to go with this, i feel like its kinda all over the place too it feels rushed to me idk why 😭😭 if there is any mistakes or missing words, NO THERE ISNT. please be nice, again this is my first time writing. im always open for ideas or tips on anything!! also thank you to @flouvela for encouraging me on writing this ILYSM GF 🤍🤍 ok bye now!!

[hxxsxxng]

to have and to hold - lee heeseung ❦

「pairing」 : husband!heeseung x fem!reader

「word count」 : 1.3k

「genre」 : fluff. fluff. FLUFF.

「summary」 : heeseung always pays attention and remembers the little things, and his love language is definitly all of them.

「warnings」 : no warnings!

「authors note」 : this is the first part of the FROM THE HEART❦ series!

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I curled up on our plush sofa, my favorite book in hand and a steaming mug of tea on the side table. The soft pitter-patter of rain against the window created the perfect ambiance for a cozy afternoon at home. As I flipped to the next page, I heard the front door unlock, and a smile tugged at my lips. Heeseung was home.

"I'm back!" his melodious voice called out, followed by the sound of shoes being removed and keys jingling as they were placed in the bowl by the door.

"In the living room," I responded, not looking up from my book just yet. I was at a good part and wanted to finish the paragraph.

I heard his footsteps approaching, and soon felt the sofa dip as he sat beside me. A gentle kiss was pressed to my temple, and I finally tore my eyes away from the pages to look at my husband. His dark hair was slightly damp from the rain, and his eyes sparkled with warmth as they met mine.

"How's the book?" Heeseung asked, nodding towards the novel in my hands.

I marked my place with a bookmark and set it aside. "It's getting really good. The main character just discovered a hidden passage in the old mansion."

He chuckled, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "Sounds intriguing. Though I hope it's not giving you any ideas about tearing up our walls to look for secret rooms."

I playfully swatted his arm. "Don't worry, I'm content with our secret-passage-free apartment."

Heeseung's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Speaking of which, I have a surprise for you. Close your eyes."

Curiosity piqued, I did as he asked. I heard him move away and then return a moment later. "Okay, you can look now."

I opened my eyes to find him holding a small, gift-wrapped package. "What's this for?" I asked, taking it from him.

"Just because," he replied with a soft smile. "Go on, open it."

Carefully, I unwrapped the gift to reveal a beautiful leather-bound journal. The cover was embossed with intricate designs, and when I opened it, I found the pages were lined with tiny constellations.

"Heeseung, it's beautiful," I breathed, running my fingers over the smooth leather.

"I remembered you mentioning that you wanted to start journaling," he explained. "And I know how much you love stargazing, so when I saw this, I knew it was perfect for you."

My heart swelled with love. It was just like Heeseung to remember such a small detail from a conversation we'd had weeks ago. "Thank you," I said, leaning in to kiss him softly.

As we parted, my stomach let out a low growl, causing us both to laugh. "Hungry?" Heeseung asked, raising an eyebrow.

I nodded sheepishly. "I may have gotten a bit too engrossed in my book and forgotten about lunch."

“Okay c’mon, take a break from the book and we can cook some food together” he suggested, slowly taking the book away from my hands. “How about stir-fry”

"Sounds perfect," I agreed.

We fell into a comfortable rhythm, chopping vegetables and preparing the sauce. Heeseung hummed softly as he worked, a habit I'd grown to love over the years. As I reached for the soy sauce, I accidentally knocked over the bottle of sesame oil.

"Dang it" I exclaimed, watching in annoyance as the oil spread across the counter.

But before I could even move to clean it up, Heeseung was already there with a cloth. "Don't worry, I've got it," he said, quickly wiping up the spill.

"My hero," I said dramatically, placing a hand over my heart.

He grinned, tossing the cloth into the sink. "Always at your service, my lady."

As we continued cooking, I couldn't help but marvel at how in sync we were. Heeseung seemed to anticipate my every move, handing me utensils before I even asked for them and moving around me with practiced ease.

Once the stir-fry was sizzling in the pan, filling the kitchen with delicious aromas, Heeseung turned to me with a glint in his eye. "How about we have a little fun while we wait?"

Before I could ask what he meant, he pulled out his phone and hit play. The opening notes of our favorite song started to play, and I couldn't help but laugh as he started dancing, gesturing for me to join him.

I hopped down from the counter and took his outstretched hand. We twirled around the kitchen, our socks sliding on the smooth floor as we moved to the beat. Heeseung sang along, his voice harmonizing perfectly with the music.

As the song came to an end, he dipped me low, both of us breathless and giggling. "I love you," he said softly, his face inches from mine.

"I love you too," I replied, my heart full to bursting.

The timer on the stove beeped, bringing us back to reality. We reluctantly separated, and Heeseung turned his attention to the stir-fry while I set the table.

As we sat down to eat, I couldn't help but smile at the sight before me. Heeseung had arranged the vegetables on my plate to form a smiley face, just like he used to do when we first started dating and I was feeling down.

"What's got you smiling?" he asked, noticing my expression.

I gestured to my plate. "Just appreciating your artistic skills."

He laughed, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. "Only the best for you."

After dinner, we settled back onto the sofa, this time with our gaming controllers in hand. It had become a tradition of ours to spend our evenings playing video games together, alternating between cooperative and competitive games.

"Ready to get your butt kicked?" I teased as we booted up our favorite fighting game.

Heeseung raised an eyebrow. "Big words from someone who lost the last three matches."

"I was going easy on you," I retorted, selecting my character.

~

Later that night, as we lay in bed, I turned to face Heeseung in the dim light. He was scrolling through his phone, but set it aside when he noticed me watching him.

"What's on your mind?" he asked softly, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

I snuggled closer to him, resting my head on his chest. "I was just thinking about how grateful I am for you. For us. For days like today."

I felt his arms tighten around me as he pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "Me too," he murmured. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be than right here with you."

As I drifted off to sleep, surrounded by the warmth of Heeseung's embrace and the love that filled our home, I knew that this, these quiet moments, these small gestures, this deep understanding between us, this was what true happiness felt like.

And I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

taglist: @jakeflvrz @simpjay @slutforjaeyun @rayofsunshineeee

[childrenofcain-if]

UNSEEN SCENE AFTER MEETING C AND D

C was tugging D along by the sleeve so hard that it was a miracle the leather didn’t stretch. the brunette’s face was dead serious, a determined set to their jaw as they guided their gray-eyed best friend down a quieter path, away from the buzz of the activities fair.

when they’d put enough distance between them and the fair, D finally pulled free, grinning broadly.

“so… was that really the person you’ve been talking about for years now?” D asked as they leaned against a lamppost, eyes gleaming.

C crossed their arms, mouth pressed into a thin line as though the question alone was a bait they had no intention of taking.

IF YOU HAVE ❤️ POINTS WITH C

D’s mouth twisted into a more delighted smile. “oh my god. that’s really them, isn’t it? the one who you—oh, what was it?—‘had the distinct displeasure’ of competing with all these years? the person who’s been living rent-free in your head since, what, middle school?”

“will you keep your voice down?” C hissed, looking around in an agitated way, not meeting D’s eyes.

“you have got to be kidding me.” D snorted, hands on their hips. “this is almost too good to be true. years of all your whining about ‘i can’t believe they got the highest grade again’ or ‘oh, guess who is on the front-page of the school journal again’—and now you’re both attending the same university.”

C folded their arms tighter, the very picture of a person resisting all of this with every fiber of their being.

“i wouldn’t call it whining,” they said through clenched teeth. “it was merely an observation.”

“oh, sure, it is,” D said, sarcasm spilling from every word as they reached out, clapping C on the shoulder with a teasing gleam in their eyes. “come on, i’m not blind. you’ve been obsessed with them. practically haunted by their existence. and now, here they are. how do you really feel about it?”

“how do i feel?” C repeated, feigning casual indifference as they shrugged off D’s hand, forcing their voice to stay steady. “i feel fine. i feel… exactly the same as always. it’s not as if seeing them is anything special.”

“oh my god, you are so lying right now,” D snorted, leaning closer with a wide, delighted smile. “i mean, come on, admit it. a little crush? a tiny bit? i mean, you talked about them constantly for years.”

C’s cheeks flushed, and they bristled as they looked away. “it’s not a crush, not at all. no way in hell. it will never ever happen. besides, i’ve only mentioned them… in passing. a handful of times. you just have a selective memory.”

D’s laughter was warm, infectious, and wholly unapologetic.

“please, C,” they said, voice softening to an almost affectionate drawl. “you’ve got to stop kidding yourself. the only person who looks at someone the way you looked at them back there is either head over heels or in some kind of blood feud.”

C scoffed, rolling their eyes, though their stomach twisted uncomfortably at D’s words. “there’s nothing good about it. they’ve been a constant, unrelenting nuisance since day one. it’s exhausting.”

“a nuisance who happens to be drop-dead gorgeous?” D raised an eyebrow, grin wide and teasing. “i have to admit that you have excellent taste.”

“they’re… sure, i suppose they’re not terrible-looking,” C replied, voice sharp as they struggled to keep any hint of warmth out of their tone. “but that’s hardly the point. beauty isn’t— it’s not everything. there’s more to them than that.” they could feel D’s eyes on them, too perceptive, too knowing. “i respect them for their… intellect. it’s admirable.”

“their intellect is so admirable,” D said, voice and tone mocking C’s. “they’re so intellectually ‘stimulating,’ i simply can’t stand it.”

“D,” C snapped, but there was no true anger in their voice, just the sharpness of embarrassment and irritation.

D held up their hands, though the grin still danced on their lips.

“alright, alright. i’ll stop,” they said, though the teasing lilt never left their voice. “it’s just… i mean, come on. if i believed in fate…”

“please, don’t,” C muttered, barely concealing a groan. they glanced away, fixing their gaze on a nearby tree as if that might somehow ground them, stop the fluttering discomfort twisting in their chest.

D finally quieted, though a look of amusement still lingered in their eyes. after a moment, their expression softened. “look, i didn’t know that was them back there. otherwise, i wouldn’t have… tried to chat them up.”

“it’s none of my business,” C replied quickly, perhaps too quickly, the denial coming out sharper than they intended. “you can flirt with whoever you want, D. you are your own person, same goes for them.”

D’s gaze lingered on C for a moment, thoughtful, as though they could read the faint tremor that betrayed C’s supposed indifference.

“right. got it.” D’s voice was quiet, a hint of laughter still beneath it, but slightly gentler now.

C shifted under the weight of D’s stare, feeling strangely exposed, as if they’d somehow let a crack appear in the careful façade they’d maintained all these years.

“besides,” C added, trying to inject a note of finality into their tone. “it’s… it’s complicated. i don’t expect you to understand.”

D shrugged, a flicker of something like empathy crossing their face before they brushed it off. “hey, i get it. just didn’t realize they were the infamous rival of yours. honestly, it explains so much.”

C shot them a dubious look. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“oh, nothing,” D replied innocently, but their eyes were still dancing with that infuriating glint. “i just think you should be more honest with yourself. might save you some of this broodfest, grumpster.”

“thanks for the unsolicited advice,” C retorted dryly, though they could feel the faint sting of truth in D’s words, a reminder of thoughts they’d long tried to ignore. “can we just… talk about something else?”

D gave a little shrug, letting the subject drop with a nod. “fine by me. though i will say, this is definitely the highlight of the semester so far.”

C rolled their eyes, but a faint smile tugged at the corner of their mouth despite themselves. “your standards are painfully low, D.”

“oh, absolutely,” D agreed with a grin, falling into step beside C. “but admit it, you’d miss me if i wasn’t around to torment you like this.”

C huffed, but their gaze softened, a hint of genuine affection flickering in their expression. “perhaps. only if it keeps you from tormenting everyone else.”

“oh, please. you know most of them are happy enough to let me ‘torment’ them.” D’s grin turned almost conspiratorial. “just make sure to invite me into any fistfights if this whole rivalry thing escalates.”

C chuckled, and the sound felt surprisingly light, easing some of the tension that had coiled in their chest. for a moment, the weight of their earlier encounter with you seemed to fade, replaced by the familiar comfort of their best friend’s easy humor.

as they walked back toward their dorm, their steps falling into an unspoken rhythm, C allowed themself a moment of quiet. they still felt the faint sting of embarrassment, the echo of D’s teasing words lingering like a half-formed thought in the back of their mind. but there was also an undeniable warmth, a strange, hesitant excitement that fluttered just beneath the surface.

they tried to push it away, to ignore the thrill of possibility that had sparked when they saw you across the fairground, but it lingered all the same. and as they walked in silence beside D, their gaze fixed ahead, they couldn’t quite shake the feeling that, whether they liked it or not, they would be forced to confront things they didn’t understand quite yet.

IF YOU HAVE ❤️ POINTS WITH D

C stiffened, their jaw clenching, barely nodding. “yeah. that’s them.”

D laughed, clapping a hand on their best friend’s shoulder.

“wow. okay, see, now i get it,” they said, shaking their head. “you were always complaining about how they were everywhere, stealing the spotlight. but, damn, if i’d known you weren’t exaggerating like crazy, i’d have pestered you for their contact ago.”

“yeah, like that was ever gonna happen,” C muttered with the irritation of someone who’d just had a private grudge revealed.

“oh, come on,” D continued, eyes still dancing with that insufferable amusement. they weren’t even pretending to hide their interest now. “did you see them? they’re hot! as in hot like a damn star, C. you can’t deny it. i almost melted right there and then. how did you never mention that part?”

C’s frown deepened, their discomfort sharp enough to cut through D’s lightheartedness. “i’m serious, D. if you’re thinking of trying anything with them, don’t.”

D couldn’t help but chuckle at C’s reaction, leaning back against the wall with an almost wistful expression. “you’re really no fun, you know that? think of the story we’d have—dating your enemy’s best friend… well, whatever else it might become.”

“we’re not exactly ‘enemies,’” C sighed out, observing D with a strange, inscrutable look. they seemed to be trying to read D’s intentions, as if searching for some hidden motive beneath the casual words. “i just don’t think it’s a good idea for you to get involved with them in any way.”

“you’re acting like i’m going to ask them out or something,” D said as they gave C a sidelong glance. their tone was flippant, but there was a defensive edge to it. “i’m not about to go falling head over heels. it’s just… fun.”

C gave them a skeptical look, trying to gauge just how serious they were. they knew D’s habits, their tendency to flirt and play around without letting feelings get involved, but something about this felt different. maybe it was the way they’d looked at you, that lingering fascination that seemed out of place for someone like D, who usually brushed things off before they even started.

“D,” C said quietly, almost as if they were choosing their words with care. “just… be careful, okay? i mean, you know what happened last time.”

D’s smile faded slightly, and their eyes took on a cold look.

“that was different,” they replied, a touch of anger in their voice now. “and anyway, i don’t need you looking out for me. i can make my own choices.”

C pursed their lips as they tried to think of how to say what was on their mind without making things worse. “i’m not trying to play parent here, D. i just don’t want you to do something you won’t be able to deal with later.”

D’s expression grew even more guarded, the usual playfulness in their eyes dimming to something harder, more closed-off.

“thanks for the concern, but I’m a big kid, C,” they said with a faintly strained smile. “you don’t need to worry about me.”

the air between them felt chilling and C wasn’t entirely sure how to fix it. they had only meant to protect their best friend, to stop them from getting tangled in something they knew was bound to end badly. but D’s response had left them with an uncomfortable knot in their chest, one that seemed to pulse with a mixture of worry and frustration.

they walked back to their shared dorm suite in silence, neither of them speaking as the quiet settled between them. C could feel D’s thoughts simmering, a subtle resentment that they weren’t quite sure how to ease. and for some reason, that feeling of helplessness only made C more irritated.

as they reached their suite, D barely registered C closing the main door behind them. they ignored their green-eyed friend’s soft, wary look, the way they almost seemed about to speak before they thought better of it. without another glance, D moved to their own room, shutting the door with a sharper click than they’d intended, leaning against the cool wood and breathing out slowly.

the familiarity of this old frustration settled in their chest, the same sensation they’d managed to bury over time and miles—until tonight. seeing C’s expression, their concern thinly veiled beneath their chalcedony gaze, had brought it all rushing back. and for one brief, shameful second, D found themself resenting their best friend for it. they hated them for thinking they needed to protect them. hated them for reminding them of the person who had taken so much from them, left behind an utterly mangled version of them, burned up everything so badly that D was barely recognisable in the aftermath.

they let out a soft, bitter laugh, sinking down onto the edge of the bed, fingers pressed to their temples. if only C knew how pointless their worry was. there was no wound left to guard, no vulnerability to shield. they’d lost that version of themself long ago, and no amount of protective warnings or shieldings from C would bring it back. because the truth was that there were pieces of themself they would never fully recover. pieces that had been taken and then, with brutal finality, lost entirely.

they were ruined. ruined.

a part of them knew C’s warning had come from that familiar place of concern. C really was family to them, even if they would never understand what they’d been through. D would never wish it on them, ever.

D really wasn’t interested in dredging up those old feelings, that kind of attachment. they’d been honest enough with themself, ruthless enough, to know that what they wanted now was simple and uncomplicated—just fun, just a distraction.

it was just physical attraction. that was all it had to be, and nothing more. it could be simple. no one would get hurt—not you, and definitely not D. they wouldn’t let it become more than a surface-level game. they’d played it before and they’d play it again, this time without letting you to come close enough to shatter them like they did.

D closed their eyes, forcing themself to refocus before their thoughts involuntarily took them to you. and it made them nauseous, that feeling, the warmth of it expanding in their chest, a reminder of something they couldn’t afford to want. D didn’t trust feelings of that sort, they never will.

cursing under their breath, D pushed off the bed and went straight to their desk. the sleek metal drawer on the side clicked open, revealing a row of small bottles, pills neatly aligned. the sight of them was a strange comfort, like they were seeing old friends lined up and whispering about the relief they’d be providing D with, waiting to make everything easier.

D reached for one of the vials, hands steady despite the storm churning inside them. it was an old trick, one they’d used more times than they could count. just a couple of pills to quiet their mind, to drown out the feelings that were starting to unravel the control they’d fought so hard to keep. they twisted off the cap, fingers almost mechanical in the familiarity of the motion, and tipped two pills into their palm. they swallowed them dry, the bitterness sliding down their throat as they sank onto the bed, waiting for that numbness to settle in.

they closed their eyes, willing the thoughts of you away, clinging to the silence that was beginning to spread, blotting out the warmth in their chest before it could turn into an inferno, the faint ache they’d hoped never to feel again.

after a lifetime of feeling too much, the numbness was desperately welcomed.

[alexander-arcturus-black-lupin]

Definitely nothing gross cause I hate stuff like that too. Im absolutely obsessed with his hands, and so I was kinda imagining an early seasons Spencer who doesn't understand why reader always stares at his hands so she shows him 🤭

If no thats okay 😅👍🏻

Oooo

I love Spencer's hands.

HAVE YOU SEEN HIS HANDS FOR THE NON BELIEVERS LIKE BROOO

CW: Lwk size difference. consent?

A/N: Mistakes? Comment. Compliments? Comment. Problems? cOmmENT!!!!

______________________________________________________________

Spencer was sat beneath you immersed in a book he bought a few days ago. You tried to follow the words but you kept getting distracted. You let put a shaky breath as your eyes followed Spencer Reid's fingers, how the flexed before flipping the page. You were so focus on his fingers you didn't hear Spencer.

NSFW BENEATH BE VERY WARNED

Spencer Reid was a damn good profiler so when he noticed your irregular breathing, dilated eyes and unresponsiveness he wondered if it was your thoughts till he noticed what you were looking at.

Rolling up his sleeved he moved closer to you.

"Angel?" he asked for the 4th time before you jerked back finally coming to.

"Huh? did you say something?" You asked as you peeled your eyes off his fingers.

"Bingle-bongle, dingle-dangle, yickety-do yickitey-dah, ping-pong, lippy-tappy, too-tah."

You blinked twice before coming to your sense, what were you doing?

His gaze on you made your cheeks feel hotter than usual.

"Why are you quoting Doctor Who?"

"My girl's not here, figured the Doctor could bring her back." You scratched the back of your neck as you looked away.

"I'm here."

"A survey conducted by the Journal of Sex Research in 2007 found that about 30% of participants reported some form of partialism."

"Partialism?"

"A type of paraphilia involving sexual interest in, or fixation with, a certain part of the body."

"I-?"

"My hands. that's your current sexual interest."

"Sorry."

"What are you sorry for?"

"I don't know for maybe sexualising your hands."

"I'm your boyfriend, I don't mind...in fact, I'm interested in how you see my hands" his words made you gulped. Spencer smiled so innocently but his actions were anything but.

One of his hands disembarked from the arm of the chair and began to trail up your neck, a trail of shivers in it's wake. You froze, your breath caught in your lungs.

"Spencer..."

"Mhmm...?"

He knew what he was doing to you. How it affected you. His index finger traced your jaw before landing on your lips.

"Open." it was a simple order. You opened your mouth before your nerve disappeared like your reasoning. His finger trailed the inside of your mouth before landing on your tongue.

"Suck." your lips like clockwork clamped down on his knuckle and like someone with their favorite candy. You sucked. Your tongue wrapping around his finger.

His eyes were locked on your face. Only the whites of your eyes were visible as you all but sucked the skin of his fingers. He was losing his control by the day and it was you he wanted to take care of.

He chuckled at your eagerness. "You like how bigger my hands are huh? dirty little thing aren't you."

The sound that came from the back of your throat was primal. You didn't say anything but no words were needed.

Spencer pulled you down to the floor, his finger still in your mouth like a leash. HIs other hand moved to your bottoms and they were gone. He removed his finger from your mouth and you felt empty.

That was before you felt his fingers in you. Throwing your head back you realised the background noise wasn't just background noise. It was you moaning the entire time. Your thighs clenched around his arm as you wriggled and writhed under him.

“Such a slut you are, hm?” his tone changed slightly causing you to rock your hips even more. Teasing your entrance with his finger you wondered if he would give you his cock. "You’re so wet.” He chuckled breathlessly, you noticed just how much he was restraining himself.

His hair falling over his eyes , slightly hiding his lust filled gaze. Before He lowered his head towards his fingers.

The next few moments were heaven. Spencer ate puss like a starving man. Your starving mam

Spencer brought you down from your high, your breasts having joined the game, you briefly wondered when you lost your shirt.

"No nerd facts?" you finally spoke your throat slightly dry.

"You want, fuck, you want a fact?" his voice was breathless and windy.

"Yes."

"You drive me crazy."

You laughed as you laid on him.

"I'm glad, but i mean an actual fact."

"Alright but stop moving your hands." You tilted your head.

"It's my turn now."

You traced the buldge in his pants. Unzipping his pants.

"People who-who..." you palmed him.

"Who what?" you asked mimicking him. Tracing the tip you watch Spencer fight to stay together.

" A-Are hand fetish-fetishist usually admire the nails-" You pressed slightly along the sides.

"Long nails? short nails?nail-polished? clear?"

"Angel..." his voice was horse.

"Alright, no questions."

"And enjoy licking or sucking one's hand or fingers and the acts made with the hand (handjobs, fingering, slapping, scratching and so on)" You moved your hair as you began to do just that.

Licking

Sucking

Nibbling

Spencer came apart minutes later all over the floor, his head falling into the chair. His chest rising slowly again. He raised his arms and brought you closer, his face disappearing slightly in your hair.

"Angel, I love you so much." he mumbled.

"I love you too Spence."

"We should get cleaned up..." he began making no motion to get up.

"We should..." slumping into him further.

"Are we getting up now?"

"Oh no, you turned me into Spaghetti legs!" you exclaimed.

__________________________________________________________

Spencer Reid smut has been served. I don't know if I like this or not but what matters is that i overcame my writers block at 2am

[princessbrunette]

stepbro!johnb knew it was wrong. god, he knew it was demented, and sick — but he couldn’t stop. he was pent up.

things had been kind of a mess lately, and despite popular believe, no — finding and hunting treasure was not all sunshine and rainbows. it was a lot of dead ends, a lot of waste bins filled with screwed up paper covered in ideas and plots that were going nowhere. sometimes you had a piece of paper, a pen, a map and a dream — and that was it.

john b could have sworn he saw you scribbling away during a plotting session in this specific pink paperback journal. it looked like any other notebook you’d use to jot down everyone’s ideas. you weren’t too good at the whole treasure hunting thing yourself but you were eager and had the right spirit so the pogues could often rely on you to scribble down anything important they might say during these sessions in which they’d bounce off eachother. this was why john b picked the book up and opened it in the first place.

once he started reading, even past realising that this was infact your diary — he just couldn’t stop.

“oh, uh…” he coughs awkwardly to an empty house when he flips it open and finds his own name in pink glitter pen, hearts and swirls galore. you hadn’t exactly been subtle about your attractions towards your older step brother— never missing an opportunity to bat your lashes up at him, touch his chest whilst you’re talking to him, even find a way to sit on his leg when there was just no other room — but for the most part he assumed you were just teasing in your own cruel way. passing the time, so to speak. he wasn’t expecting this.

his eyes continue to flit from word to word, each more graphic than the last until he’s stumbling across full descriptions, day to day on what you’d do to him, moreso what you’d let him do to you.

‘john b was so frustrated today. he needs me, i know he does. he has that look in his eye! that super frustrated one that looks all tired and irritated and unlike himself. he’s usually so warm and comforting but today he looked like he was gonna snap. i thought he might finally march over and bend me over… a girl can dream i guess :( when i finallyyyyy got some alone time i spent it grinding against my pillow, wanting him to come in and catch me. i wonder if he heard the bed moving… if he hears me moaning… i don’t wanna be a virgin anymore, need john b to come and break me in :( ♡’

the more he reads, the harder he gets against his shorts— sighing out his nose, blinking in discomfort as he adjusts himself. he looks around, knowing you were at the beach with kiara but still feeling paranoid. it’s one thing to have such dirty thoughts about your step-brother, but atleast they were private. john b gets caught reading them? he’s the bad guy.

he tells himself it’s not you doing this to him. it was simply his anatomy betraying him. he couldn’t help how his body reacts.

he feels dirty when the tip of his cock grazes the pages, now sat on the edge of your bed like he could jump up at any minute given the sound of the front door closing. he’s turned the page, landing on a particular fantasy that had his hand moving and cock leaking before he could dare to question the morality of it all.

‘john b looked so good today :( i love when he bosses me around all big brother like ♡ he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it, it’s like second nature for him to look after me. wanted to sit between his legs and make out with his dick :( i bet it’s so pretty and i know it’s big cos sometimes he doesn’t wear boxers under his pants and i see it swinging it around. wanna suckle on it whilst he tells me im a good girl like he did that one time when i was sad. his voice just gets me so wet, can’t stop humping everything n rubbing my clit whenever he leaves the room. i’m like an animal and im not even ashamed anymore. i need him :(’

the brunette groans as he squeezes his eyes shut, fisting and twisting the way he imagines your smaller hand to— inexperienced yet with a feverish hunger to please and a vast knowledge of sex which he could only imagine was learnt through word of mouth and porn. god, the thought of his sweet little step sister sprawled on her back, legs splayed open — pawing at her glossy cunt as she scrolls to find the perfect porn video. it was enough to send john b mad.

he wondered if you tried to find pornstars that looked like him, or if you just used your imagination for that part. john b liked to think himself a humble man, but in the throes of his passion he couldn’t help but accept the warm embrace of the ego trip the thought gave him.

“oh fuck, so wrong — so fucking wrong—” he strains, feeling that burning hot twisting in his stomach as that familiar feeling overcomes him. he clearly hadn’t thought this through, before when he opens his eyes once more — he’s covered your delicately decorated page containing your fantasies with his white hot sticky syrup. “ohhhh god. oh no.” he hums, eyes widening slightly.

yet there was no time to act— for as soon as he’d realised, he could hear the jangling of your keys and your familiar giggles as you lead your new-ish friend into the chateau, probably moments away from singing out his name, wondering if he’s home. he slams the book shut and he’s sure it oozes from the edges of the page— stuffs it back beneath the pile of clothes on your chair where he found it and makes quick work of tucking his deflating cock back into his pants.

john b fears he might be in big trouble.

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ F*CK THE LIST

✧.* CHAPTER 2 || Fuck The Foolish Mistakes

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A continued tale after Gojo Satoru's blackmailing seemed to have much more to it than meets the eye.

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, masturbation, pervy!gojo, tw; mentions/hints of stalking & obsession, some heinous activities, dark themes, disturbing actions, etc.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 5.2k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——THE SUMMER BEFORE everything went to shit for you was the same summer in which you and Shoko decided to move in together. For two months of break, it felt so much longer than that. It was a time in which you spent getting closer and closer to Shoko, so much so that it was only natural that you would call her one of your closest friends.

Although, said friendship seemed rather one-sided. Sure, you both got along pretty well but from what it seemed— Shoko had plenty of other friends to run to whenever she wished. So, after you realized that, you got a bit more real with yourself and dubbed her as simply your roommate. Closest friend, but roommate nonetheless.

This summer was also spent single after you’d gotten dumped a few weeks before the last semester ended. You were sad about it for a while but Shoko was there to cheer you up. Meanwhile, the other people you thought were your friends steadily started to showcase their truer colors, revealing how they never really cared too much about you to begin with and dropped you just like your boyfriend had.

Ah, whatever, that’s all old stuff anyway. It took you maybe a week to get over all that foolishness. So by the time summertime came around, you thought things would get better for you. Instead, you lost your job and that’s where your struggle began. You may have picked up one or two during your summer break but ultimately, none of them stuck long enough to trickle over to your final two semesters of school.

And as you went through such things, a certain someone was keeping track of it all like some fucking stalker. This person in question being none other than Gojo Satoru himself. Unlike you, his summer was rather pleasant. He started babysitting due to his not-so-hidden love for children, he went out a decent number of times, and he heard things about you without even asking.

Why? Because he had a wonderful friend who talked about you to no end— Gojo became very thankful for Shoko because it’s due to her that the pages of his notebook began to fill with endless entries about you. Perhaps journaling you became some kind of hobby for him.

Or maybe it was the fact that he couldn’t see you as much since it was summertime so he treasured every bit of information he got on you. Why was he so hooked on noting it all down though? Was it really curiosity at this point or, was it something so much more? He’d long since labeled it as a crush but that doesn’t excuse his journaling.

Hell, at one point Gojo found himself mindlessly writing down vivid details of the way your laugh sounds— from any pitch that’s ever grazed his ears, to the number of breaths taken before and after. It was then that Gojo dropped his pencil and read over what the hell he’d written down.

His hand shot up to his forehead and his fingers went to soothe his temples, brows tensing, and eyes narrowing at his own words. Did he… Did he really just sit here and describe a woman, who he’s never spoken to, and how her laugh sounds? At the realization, Gojo had to close his journal and push it away from himself.

Sometimes, he may try to pretend like he doesn’t see any harm behind this journaling thing of his but at moments like this… He nearly creeps himself out. Imagine if you were to ever stumble upon such a thing. Gojo’s almost disgusted with himself. Not even a hi or hello has ever been spoken to you and yet here he was printing the details of that joyful sound you make when you find something humorous.

Gojo was very self-aware by that point, mentally telling himself that he needed to stop this madness and just talk to you like he craved. Maybe Suguru was right, maybe your having a boyfriend didn’t matter.

On that day, Gojo should’ve listened to his own warnings. He should’ve taken care of his own red flags right then and there.

But instead, he only got worse.

—--

Depicting the details of your laughter was one thing. But going out of his way to print out photos of you he’d found on Instagram was an entirely different level of crazy.

Okay, so perhaps this was no longer just some cute lil’ crush… Gojo doesn’t know how his… curiosity got so dark. He doesn’t know where or when it really started but at some point, he thinks he became aware that this wasn’t exactly normal. Eventually, Gojo realized this was more of an obsession— you were an obsession.

A scary one too. Even scary to himself. The mere mention of your name would make Gojo’s heart race, whenever Shoko came around smelling like you in the slightest bit, Gojo could feel his mind blur and his thoughts instantly run to you.

One time Shoko, who was just as oblivious to this as everyone else at the time, showed the man a video of you and her trying some challenge together. Gojo doesn’t remember the challenge at all or even what either of you was doing in that video but he does remember having his eyes all over you.

He remembers seeing you hug Shoko by the end of the video and the feeling that burned in his heart. Such a deep form of jealousy swirled inside him and he couldn’t understand it. He never cared about Shoko being close to you before but now, it had pained him to watch his friend have the opportunity to feel you– to talk to you.

Something that Gojo told himself he no longer deserved to do. Yeah, he knows it was even more foolish but he felt as though he should be self-punished for his strange actions in regards to you. 

Those photos that he printed of you went right into his journal, along with an entry about how he wonders what it’s like to feel your touch. He wonders what holding a full conversation with you would be like. Would you laugh at the things he says? Would you playfully hit him if he utters something ridiculous? Are your hands soft? Would they feel soft wrapped around his cock-

Yet again did Gojo find himself dropping his pencil. Though, he doesn’t know which reason was worse. The fact that he really wrote that question down or the throb he felt in his cock at the mere thought of said question. Gulping, he told himself for the millionth time that he was losing his damn mind.

So much so that he had to push his journal away and really think about what the hell he just asked. He tipped his head back and stared up at the ceiling, letting out a long sigh at himself. He’d lost it, hadn’t he? Thinking about you in such a vulgar way without even knowing what talking to you is like is the very definition of insanity, yes?

No, this is just his obsession. He’s not insane. But hey, maybe the two go hand and hand— maybe there’s no difference between being batshit crazy and obsessing over someone…

Either way, Gojo tries to collect himself, moving to look down at his current state only to find that his cock didn’t just throb, instead the damn thing got hard. The sight was disappointing, to say the least. Gojo stared at the outline of his dick, wondering what the hell is wrong with his body and how the fuck he got hard so damn fast. All he did was think about you…

He moves to part his legs a bit more, trying to comfort himself and deciding he was going to ignore his boner and just return to writing. Though, as he leans up and pulls his journal back toward himself, his cock aches yet again. Gojo lets out a little groan, somewhat scolding himself for being like this.

And then he manages to ignore himself for a bit longer. At least, up until he does nothing more than read your name on his page. His focus narrowed in on the letters of your name, the sound of it echoing throughout his brain before his lips parted and he let out a sound.

His hand shoots up to his face and he covers his mouth, completely confused as to what the hell he’d just done. There was absolutely no way he’d nearly moaned at your name alone. Oh this was… No, he was losing it-, not even, he’d lost it already.

Gojo steadily wiped his mouth, fingers rubbing over his jawline for a moment before he looked down to his crotch. He could now feel how stupidly wet his tip was. Was he in heat or something? How the hell did he get so horny from… reading your name? Thinking about you? Hell, he doesn’t even know where to pinpoint the cause of all this anymore.

Shaking his head, his first thought was that he was in no way going to touch himself to the thought of you. Absolutely not. Fuck no. He may be obsessed but he’s not a… actually, there’s really no word he could use to describe what he’s not right now because he pretty much checks every box for an obsessive pervert.

“Shit,” Gojo huffed, glancing over to his wide-open room door. A second passes, then two, then three before he’s standing to his feet and walking over to the door.

The man glanced out into the hall, finding no signs of Geto anywhere before he shuts his door. Then, he pauses and stares at the lock. He’s not really about to do this, is he?

…

He locks the door and rushes right back over to his seat. Gojo slouches back a little this time and his legs part, his eyes low on his hard cock resting against his thigh and how painfully it was bulging against the fabric of his clothes.

“Fuckin’ hell,” He whispers. There’s no way you’d gotten him this hard…

You and your… everything. The very idea of you made Gojo roll his hips upward, causing faint friction against his clothed cock. Then he shook his head and looked away from himself.

“Nope, I’m not doin’ this shit,” He whispered. He can’t jerk off to some girl he doesn’t even know. He shouldn’t.

It’d be different if you were some pornstar he was infatuated with, then he could jerk off to you and there’d be no issue. But when you’re his friend’s friend… it’d be so weird of him to do so.

Even if you have the prettiest face he’s ever seen. Despite your laugh leaving him in some kind of trance. Ignoring the way your voice sounds. Disregarding how kind you seem from afar. Nevermind the way you walk, the things you wear— and how the first time he saw you, you were in a skin-tight blue dress-

Gojo’s jaw drops a little, “Oh fuck,” His voice is already breathy and his hand has found its way to his aching cock, groping himself through his clothing.

He looks down at himself all over again, body hot and breath unsteady already. He swallows thickly and finally lets out a groan before moving to tug his cock out, watching how it slaps against his abdomen and letting out another heavy breath of air.

Gojo moves his hands to his thighs and just gazes at his cock for a moment, seeing how it twitches so desperately-, desperately for you, and how his tip is leaking with precum already. Hell, it look like he came already, cum leaking down along his dick so lewdly.

What would anyone think if they found him like this…

One of his hands moves to grab his journal and he flips to the page with your pictures on it. He shouldn’t do this. This is wrong-

A whine slips past his lips the second his eyes are met with your face. Then his fingers are wrapping around his shaft and he’s jerking himself off without second thought. “Fuuck,” He moans, tossing his head back with his lower lip beginning to tremble already.

His hand was working the length of his dripping cock furiously, back arching ever so slightly in pure desperation and utter need. Oh how he wished it was your hand here instead of his. Fuck, what would your mouth feel like? Hell, how are you during sex? Are you the submissive type? Would you let him have his way with you? Fuck that pretty mouth of yours like he wishes to?

Or are you the more dominant type? Would you have his legs shaking from sucking him off? You probably would. He can only imagine what your lips would look like wrapped around his cock— already wet with spit and dribbles of his cum. Your face would probably be all messy but you might like that kinda thing, right?

Gojo whines, his eyes flickering and hand not slowing for even so much as a second. Shit, your mouth is probably heavenly but what would your pussy feel like? How wet would you get for him? Would you take him all in one go? Beg him to fuck you faster?

Fuck, would you get on top of him? Take control? Ride him til’ he’s the one begging you to stop? Again, Gojo moans into the air, a few times actually. His wrist rotates as he fists his needy cock, veiny length aching for anything from you.

He wonders if you’d want him to talk you through it. Or if you’d talk him through it. Would you be mean? Nice? Fuck, his thoughts are driving him crazy. In all honesty, he’d consider himself a complete slut for you. He’d do whatever you wanted him to.

Gojo ends up shifting, moving to hunch forward as he grows a bit overwhelmed. “Fuck, fuck-,” He gasps and chokes out a whimper of your name. Would you let him be some little slut for you? Because he would be, with zero hesitation. “Fuck me,” Gojo mumbles, watching as his cock twitches in his hands.

You’d probably praise him, wouldn’t you? Tell him how good he’s doing for you, encourage him to keep going-, or maybe you’d do the exact opposite. Perhaps you would degrade him.

Gojo’s eyes roll back at the mere imagination of you ever degrading him, calling him pathetic for being like this, a slut for shamefully jerking off to you, or even a bitch-

He’s cumming before he even realizes he is, moaning and moaning after the thought of you ever calling him such a thing. He doesn’t even know why that turned him on so much, he’s never been into that kinda thing before but when it’s you, shit… he can’t even control himself.

Messing up his hand, groaning out your name, moving to stand up with shaky legs, and continuing as his cock doesn’t go down. Then Gojo looks at the picture of you again, aligning his cock with the image and stroking himself angrily. He cannot believe himself right now but it’s much too late to care.

The damage is beyond done as he starts moaning again, small whines of fuck leaving his wet lips over and over the more he stares at your picture. Then he’s thrusting his hips into his hand, moving his free hand to grab ahold of the desk in front of him as if to brace himself.

Gojo heaves as he gets himself off. Tears well up in his eyes and he just knows he sounds so stupidly desperate right now, moaning, groaning, whining, and even whimpering for you whilst he fucks his fist. Eventually closing his eyes, he imagines you there with him, mentally illustrating the way your face would twist up every time he thrusts his cock deep inside you.

He could make you feel so fucking good if you ever let him. He’d treat you so well, give you anything and everything under the sun, make sure there’s always a smile on your face, and prioritize your needs over his own at all times.

By that point, he’s chanting your name in mindless little whispers, feeling his balls ache before the tip of his cock spurts out thick and hot ropes of cum— all over that same picture he’d been staring at.

Left panting, Gojo had to deal with the aftermath of his high. His eyes were slow to open and when he realized he came all over one of his pictures of you, he was even more disgusted with himself.

It took him a moment to gather himself after his actions but when he finally does, he cleans the filthy mess he’d made of himself and that damn photo before closing his journal and putting it away— telling himself he’d never do that again.

—---

Although, his little declaration didn’t last very long. A week later and he was jerking off with you in mind yet again. The same guilt and disgust follow afterward and Gojo tells himself he needs something else to put his focus on that’s not you.

Like his job for example; babysitting. What better to put his mind on to distract him from the way his mind, body, and soul crave you so desperately?

With that in mind, Gojo started with his scheduling. As time stood, he had roughly three different kids he babysat on a regular basis, all of which were looked after separately but looked after nonetheless. The first was a girl, whose name was Nobora. She was rather bratty in Gojo’s opinion but he didn’t mind, he liked how having her around reminded him of having that of a little sister.

Then there was Megumi, a child who so clearly hates him but is forced to be around him anyway. That hatred got even worse when the kid broke his leg while on Gojo’s watch— an event in which Gojo will forever find strange because the two were at a park and he swears he looked away for two seconds only to hear screaming moments later by nearby children.

By the time he made it to Megumi, his leg was broken and Gojo was to blame.

Aside from that, the last kid that Gojo found himself watching over sometimes was Itadori Yuji. Now this, this is where things got interesting.

For starters, Gojo never understood why he was hired to watch over Yuji when the kid had a perfectly capable older brother to do so. Then again, he didn’t question it once he saw he got paid quite handsomely for it.

Sometimes Gojo went over to the Itadori residence and others he picked Yuji up. Either way, the number of times Gojo encountered Sukuna was rather slim. They only ever interacted when it was time for payments to be made. Outside of that, Gojo knew little of Sukuna (his school reputation for being a major partier aside).

Any other information he got from the man came from Yuji, who Gojo would randomly question every now and then. Though, Yuji never spoke much about his older brother— only that he’s a bit short-tempered. Given that, Gojo had no reason to think twice about their family or relations at all.

Even when Yuji would appear with a bruise or two, Gojo didn’t put two and two together until it was much too late. The first few bruises, Yuji said he got them from playing around too much and falling, to which Gojo believed since he’d seen how clumsy Yuji could be firsthand.

As such, this went on for weeks and weeks but the day Gojo finally started realizing something was up, was the same day in which he’d finally meet the consequences for his previous actions.

On that day, before Yuji was dropped off to be babysat, Gojo was busy making vows to himself. The first being that he’d finally man up and fucking talk to you. He doesn’t really know what finally came over him but he felt as though it was time. Something, perhaps the universe, told him that after today— he’d grow some balls and hold a genuine conversation with you. 

Only a few days ago had he learned from Shoko that you now resided with her so things were going to be rather easy. There was about a week and a half of summer left, giving Gojo some time to not only talk to you but also get to know you firsthand.

His self-revelation came about after he reread every journal entry he had of you, jotting down one final entry of how he planned to talk to you. It was supposed to be casual, he would ask for your number, become friends with you, and go from there based on whether or not you showed any attraction toward him.

With such plans in mind, Gojo thinks it is safe to say that his obsession is finally being tamed. He was getting in control of it after having had such lewd thoughts of you multiple times within the past month and making entries of how he was left feeling in his journal.

That may have been what his last straw was— the whole pervertedness of it all. He was getting weirded out by it himself. Maybe once he started talking to you, his obsession would completely die down. Perhaps the reality of you would help ground him from this fictional high he’s had himself on ever since his obsession was born.

Though, it seems the world finds humor in the suffering of people and Gojo was forced to learn this the hard way.

Of course, as soon as he tells himself he’s gonna clean up his act and do what’s right, his punishment shows up in the form of a person who finds joy in watching others struggle. This person is none other than Sukuna himself, who shows up at the worst time imaginable.

Amid pure stupidity and thoughtlessness, Gojo quickly found himself in a situation in which could not be undone.

—-

After babysitting Yuji for maybe two hours, there was a knock on Gojo’s front door. Yuji sat on the living room couch, watching some cartoons as he swung his feet back and forth. Gojo was in the nearby kitchen, journal in hand before he went to answer the door.

That wonderful journal of his was left sitting on the kitchen counter, right in the open for anyone to see. 

That aside, when Gojo opened his front door, he was met with Sukuna. The two barely even greeted one another before the tatted man reminded Gojo it was payment day. The transaction was meant to be done inside so, Gojo allowed Sukuna to enter the apartment.

Yuji hardly glanced over to the two men before Sukuna nodded his head back, silently telling the kid to go ahead and make his way to the car. With no argument, Yuji sighed and grabbed what little of his things before he walked over to the two, briefly said bye to Gojo, and then made his way outside.

Gojo was going to question why Sukuna let the kid go out by himself like that but, he’s made his mistakes of asking too many questions in the past and has suffered the consequences. Not wanting to deal with a mouthy Sukuna, Gojo remained quiet until Yuji was gone.

Phones were pulled out and the two men moved to make that transaction of theirs. Sukuna had strange tendencies and rules, one of them being that Yuji wasn’t allowed to be present for what Sukuna considered adult business. It was something Gojo didn’t understand but, nothing crazy to really bat an eye at.

Just before Sukuna gets ready to send the money to Gojo— something in which he requires Gojo to be present to make sure nothing goes askew, Gojo starts noticeably squirming all over the place.

Sukuna raises a brow, “Fucks wrong with you?”

“Gotta use the bathroom,” Gojo huffs out without moving from where he stands.

The pink-haired man tilts his head, “Then go use the bathroom? I’m not gonna leave without paying you so relax.”

Gojo stands there a mere moment longer, contemplating a few things. The transaction could’ve been done by now but he felt like he was two seconds away from embarrassing himself so he just let out a long sigh before running off to the nearby bathroom. Thus leaving Sukuna standing there alone.

Now, Sukuna doesn’t consider himself to be a nosy person— he could usually care less about what others had going on in their lives unless it affected or entertained him. And where Gojo’s concerned, he honestly did neither at the time. He was just Yuji’s babysitter so Sukuna didn’t see much interesting about the guy.

That was, until he took his time alone to glance around Gojo’s apartment. Sukuna’s eyes wandered, studying the plain attempts at decoration and how utterly unstructured Gojo’s apartment appeared to be. Well, aside from some spots, it was rather clear that two people were living here, one more cleanly than the other.

Even so, Sukuna remained uninterested until he spotted a single book on the nearby kitchen counter. His eyes narrowed and he found himself surprised someone like Gojo would ever pick up a book. Again, the two knew little of one another aside from whatever school reputations they had— Gojo being known as some praying fuckboy and Sukuna being known as some hotheaded party-thrower. One could’ve assumed that the two would get along considering how their interests seem to align.

With that being said, Sukuna found himself walking toward this book without a second thought. The cover was completely blank and he realized it wasn’t a book at all. It was a journal.

Intrigued, Sukuna picks it up and does nothing more than pick a page at random to see if he’d find anything amusing, perhaps something to taunt Gojo with. Y’know, something to get a laugh out of.

The very last thing Sukuna expected to see was a page with a picture of some girl on it in the middle, surrounded by rather… creepy depictions of the woman. Details on the clothing in the picture, how much it cost, where to find it, depictions of where the woman went on that day, whether or not she seemed happy or sad, how many times Gojo heard her laugh-

Sukuna found himself disturbed instantly as he skimmed over the page. Though, not enough to stop him from turning the page. It seemed that such a creepy entry was one of many. Although, the first page he saw was definitely the creepiest. What ended up becoming the cherry on top was when Sukuna read over the fact that Gojo’s never spoken to you.

At that point, Sukuna scoffed, finding Gojo nothing but a fool for writing about a woman in such a way without ever talking to her. With dates, times, etcetera, Gojo had a ridiculous number of entries on this woman, so much so that it actually left Sukuna both curious and… entertained.

So when the sound of Gojo coming out of the bathroom hits Sukuna’s ears, he doesn’t even flinch or attempt to act like he wasn’t looking through the journal. Instead, Gojo walks out of the bathroom and finds Sukuna with the item in his hands.

It was at that very second that Gojo felt his heart sink to his goddamn toes. His eyes went wide and he froze in his steps, Sukuna not even so much as glancing away from the journal in his hands.

Gojo swallowed the overwhelming lump in his throat and attempted to say something-, anything, “What-”

“My my, what a fucking pervert you are,” Sukuna hummed enthusiastically, finally flicking his maroon gaze up to a dumbfounded Gojo. “This is disgusting, really. I mean,” Sukuna glances back down and smiles, “You love this woman and you’ve never even spoken to her?”

All wide-eyed and practically speechless, Gojo fumbles for a way to explain himself, “I-”

“And you fantasize about fucking her quite often,” Sukuna scoffs, tongue seeping out to lick his lips for a moment, “I can see why but shit… You’re a fuckin’ weirdo.”

“You-,” Gojo cocks his head back and blinks, the slightest mention of Sukuna taking interest in your appearance causing him to go right back to that not-so-rational state of his. Blinded by a deep obsession toward you, Gojo is slow with his words, “...You can see why? The hell does that mean-”

“She’s sexy, I get it. I see the lil’ pictures of her you’ve put in here,” Sukuna comments nonchalantly, “And yet, what I don’t get is this uh,” He clicks his tongue and smirks, “Obsession you have with her. Especially without talking to her? That’s…” He trails off for a second, his expression fading into something Gojo can’t quite read.

Gojo gulps and again attempts to defend himself, “I know it’s weird, I… I told myself I’m going to stop-”

“When?” Sukuna interrupts, voice rough, “When you’ve already got her wrapped around your finger and refuse to let her go because of the attachment you’ve created?” He questions the man almost as if he’s speaking from… experience.

“W-What?” Gojo’s brows push together. He never had any intentions of manipulating you in any shape or form, “No, I-”

“Would you tell her how you’ve been stalking her for months-, shit maybe even years based on some of these entries?” The way Sukuna takes a step toward Gojo lets him know that something about this seems to bother the pink-haired man.

“I haven’t been stalking her, I just-”

Sukuna looks down at the open page, “‘I especially liked how happy she looked today, when she smiles, she blinks about five times and when she laughs, it doubles.’ What sane man writes this shit about a woman he’s never spoken to, huh?”

“Sukuna just…” Gojo sucks in a crisp breath of air and attempts to plead with the male in front of him, reaching his hand out for his journal, “Just pretend like you never read that a-and give me the-”

“Aht aht,” Sukuna’s quick to swat his hand away and he nearly laughs at the way Gojo frowns frustratedly, “Did you really think I wouldn’t keep this little gem? Hm? See, you must be a bit confused about how this is about to go.”

For a moment, Gojo just stares. He never imagined this would happen. Hell, he wasn’t exactly careful with his journal but the last thing he expected was for Sukuna to pick the damn thing up. Fuck, he should’ve never left it on the counter. 

He lets out a sigh and his voice is small, laced with fear, “...Are you gonna tell her?”

“Am I gonna tell her?” Sukuna simply bursts out laughing, “Ha! What do I look like to you? Some simple-minded fool? No, I’m not gonna tell her.”

Gojo lets out the most thankful sigh of relief, “Thank fuck-”

“You are,” Sukuna states.

And at those words, the room goes silent. So silent that one could hear a pin drop. Gojo felt as though his blood ran cold and Sukuna had this overly smug look on his face.

It was from there on out that Gojo was set to face the consequences of his actions.

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