Welcome to my master masterlist! The status of each story is written in the brackets. Please do not ask if something will have additional parts if it’s been discontinued or completed. Asks are open to all complete and ongoing stories, so feel free to send one in.
This list also includes the works I’ve written for @yandere-society, marked with a heart ( ♥) and works I’ve written for commission, marked with a shooting star ( ミ☆)
If you like my writing, please consider supporting me on Ko-Fi with a donation 😄
Forbidden Fables Collab Masterlist ft works by myself, @chaoticpuff17, & @deepdarkdelights
It's nearly easy as breathing (for six of them, at least) for BTS to pretend to be just like everyone else - humans with big dreams and aspirations. But one person brings the façade crashing to the ground and for some reason, they just can't let her go. [Complete]
All That Glitters is Gold
Y/N is part of a team of anthropologists studying a highly remote culture/society that has only been studied once before. She gets there and the prince falls deeply, madly in love with her. But she has to leave... [Complete] ♥
Taehyung hates his immortal life, rueing the day Namjoon blessed him with eternity. But now, a hundred years later, he stumbles across someone who he— who they— want to keep forever. [Complete] ♥
Office Party
Namjoon is the office scrooge while you are always happy and jolly. But when you’ve had enough of his torment, you only give gifts to everyone else but him. [Complete] ♥
Five Letter Word
Recru AU. Non-Canon. [Complete] ミ☆
Allure
Famous producer Namjoon and rising star Jungkook are working together to promote Jungkook’s new album Allure. Unfortunately, the two of them can’t stand each other. Good thing there’s a new intern around who’s not afraid to put either of them in their place. [Complete] ミ☆
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Jin
That’s How the Story Goes [Complete]
They were sweethearts.
Fairest [Complete/Part of the Forbidden Fables Collab]
Is beauty a blessing or a curse? All of her life, princess YN was told that her beauty was the greatest gift her late mother ever gave her. But when her looks attract a man cruel and bloodthirsty, YN begins to think that her greatest asset is the beginning of her demise.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Yoongi
No More Treats [Complete]
Waffle House [Complete]
Girl Next Door
Yoongi has hated the holidays ever since his s/o dumped him on Christmas three years ago. So why does he accept when the girl next door offers to help him decorate his place? [Complete] ♥
A Dye - cision
YN dyes her hair the same color as her boyfriend’s and is nervous about his reaction. [Complete] ミ☆
Five Letter Word
Recru AU. Non-canon. [Complete] ミ☆
Second Degree [Complete] ♥
Maniac
Teaser 1:Stalker [Discontinued]
The Hills
The Hills have eyes [Complete] ミ☆
Ash and Cinder [Complete/Part of the Forbidden Fables Collab]
Ever since YN’s father died, she’s been trapped in her childhood home by her scheming step mother and evil step sisters. When it’s announced that the crown prince is hosting a ball to find his future wife, all YN wishes is to see her childhood friend once again. But maybe he’s been closer than she previously thought . . .
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Hoseok
Poor, Unfortunate, Sold [Complete/Part of the Forbidden Fables Collab]
Hoseok, the banished recluse, has always loved and worshiped merprincess YN, despite knowing he could never have her. For the longest time, he’s been content, treasuring their secret meetings. But when she begins to slip through his tentacles, Hoseok decides he will make her love him back, no matter what.
Five Letter Word
Recru AU. Non-Canon [Complete] ミ☆
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Jimin
Marvel
Park Jimin was much too familiar with how one night stands work. Not because he engaged in them often. As a matter of fact, he had only hit the sack with a stranger once. But that feeling of hurt - of disappointment - plagued him. Because a lot can happen in a single night. From falling in love with a foreign girl in a matter of hours inside of a shitty 7/11 to the small girl staring up at him with galaxies in her doe eyes.
Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Epilogue [Complete]
Det Cep Xenu
Det Cep Xenu: noun// fiction// A fictional or otherwise illogical phenomenon that occurs in reality
Soulmate AU
Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven [Discontinued]
Sanctuary
YN is a young girl, bright and ambitious, but due to her busy schedule, she’s been unable to make any real friends. When an ad for Saint Mary’s Sanctuary catches her attention, she never expected her life to be changed by a certain hybrid named Jimin.
Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen [Complete]
Amaranth
Teaser/Prologue [On Hold]
Shirt [Complete] ♥
Paralysis [Complete] ♥
Less Than Love
One Two [In Progress]
Polar Express
YN is spending Christmas all alone after her entire family passed away in a tragic accident. But when a mysterious train appears, her whole world turns upside down. [Complete] ♥
Ih-pif-uh-nee
After successfully finding matches for humans for a millennia, Cupid grows irritated when he repeatedly fails to find YN’s soulmate. He decides to go undercover and disguise himself as a normal human to attempt to get closer to her, only to become convinced that HE is the mate he’s been searching for all along. [Complete] ♥
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Taehyung
Advent Calendar [Complete]
Calamity
YN has been in love with her best friend ever since she could remember, despite his playboy habits. But what will happen when Taehyung makes a confession that gives her no choice to move on? And what will Taehyung do when he discovers pieces of himself he didn’t even know existed? [Complete]
Couple Costume [Complete]
High
Addiction. In more ways than one. [Complete]
Reincarnate
Taehyung hates his immortal life, rueing the day Namjoon blessed him with eternity. But now, a hundred years later, he stumbles across someone who he— who they— want to keep forever. [Complete] ♥
V is for Virgin
After yet another disastrous attempt at dating, YN vents her frustrations to her best friend Taehyung in a long-winded rant. [Complete]
Second Degree [Complete] ♥
XS
“Give me just a little bit MORE”
Being the son of the largest gang in the country, Kim Taehyung might as well be a prince. He is more powerful than any one man should be and is not afraid to get rid of anything - or anyone that gets in his way.
So when a man is unable to pay back the gigantic loan he owes Taehyung, the heir is all too happy to take his life. Moments away from pulling the trigger, a girl more beautiful than he’s ever seen bursts in and offers her life for her father’s. Taehyung knows right away that he wants her.
And Taehyung gets everything he wants.
Teaser Prologue Spitfire First Impressions Showtime Training Honesty Lamb Brick Jesus Bloodstained Versailles Rococo Jasmine Scotch [Ongoing]
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Jungkook
Let Me Go A songfic [Complete]
Hit or Miss
Teaser Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three [On Hold]
Seven
Jungkook is infamous. And yet, YN ignores every word of caution, unable to resist him.
I’ve heard so many sagas. He brings the drama, six baby mamas.
Teaser #2 One [On Hold]
Christmas Tree Catastrophy [Complete]
Polar Express
YN is spending Christmas all alone after her entire family passed away in a tragic accident. But when a mysterious train appears, her whole world turns upside down. [Complete] ♥
White Elephant [Complete] ♥
Til Death Do Us [Complete] ミ☆
Allure
Famous producer Namjoon and rising star Jungkook are working together to promote Jungkook’s new album Allure. Unfortunately, the two of them can’t stand each other. Good thing there’s a new intern around who’s not afraid to put either of them in their place. [Complete] ミ☆
Original Works! (Non FF)
Mythomania (Published! Available for Purchase!)
She's the love of his life, the object of his affection. Too bad she doesn't know it yet.
Isla Montgomery is a normal fan. She supports her favorite K-pop group and swoons over them like every other fangirl. But one Saturday morning her life changes forever when Matoi Jaemin announces to the world that he's in love . . . and with her, a girl he's never even met. He isn't who anyone thought he was, isn't that same smiling man she's used to. Jaemin Matoi is a yandere: a delusional, obsessive, lovesick man whose only medicine is Isla.
Intro: Laconic (Published! Available for Purchase!)
Taein Kim, affectionately known as "Blondie", is an incredibly talented young man and leader of the rookie K-Pop group Eclipse. Tae has his whole life and career in front of him, but it comes to a screeching halt when a standard meet and greet leads to him finding his soulmate, a foreign girl named after the goddess of love.
Venus Woods is the young heiress of the largest tech corporation in Southeastern America. Her life revolves around meaningless events and empty white walls, devoid of color and purpose. She never thought she would meet her favorite idol group, Eclipse, let alone form the incredibly rare soulmate bond with their leader. As if that's not life-changing enough, her absent mother is determined to have the two married, using her daughter as a bargaining chip.
Separated by lifestyle, culture, and language, the teens have wall after wall between them. None of it stops the blossom of love that blooms in their hearts when they lock eyes under the cover of a thunderstorm.
PreYandere!Prince was completely blinded by his own narrative. He fancied himself a tragic hero, a romantic rebel forced by his kingdom into an arranged marriage with you, while his "true love," a beautiful, sweet-natured court lady, was forced to watch from the sidelines. He decided from day one that you were the villain of his story, a parasitic royal who was actively stealing his freedom, and he treated you with absolute, freezing contempt.
You tried so hard in the beginning. You brought him his favorite tea during his strategy meetings, learned the history of his duchy, and genuinely tried to bridge the gap between you two. But he didn't just ignore you; he made sure everyone else knew you were unloved. Whenever you spoke to him in public, he would look right through you, turning his back to talk to his court lady instead, leaving you standing alone under the whispers of the entire aristocracy.
The cruelty escalated when he started letting his circle of high-ranking friends join in on the torment. At royal banquets, other princes and princesses would snicker and trip you as you walked past, or "accidentally" spill glasses of red wine and cold water down your elaborate robes. You would look to your fiancé for help, but he would just sit on his lounge chair, swirling his drink, a bored, cold smirk on his face. "You should look where you are going," he’d mutter, completely apathetic to your humiliation.
The turning point happened at a grand ball. After a princess purposely stepped on the train of your dress, causing the fabric to rip and sending you crashing to the marble floor in front of foreign dignitaries, you looked up through your tears at him. He didn't offer a hand. He just looked disgusted by the "scene" you were making. That was the exact moment something inside you snapped. You realized you were bleeding yourself dry for a man who enjoyed watching you suffer.
You didn't cry on the carriage ride back. You went straight to your father, the King, knelt before his throne, and begged him to cancel the engagement. You confessed everything: the bullying, the public humiliation, the total lack of respect. Your father was absolutely furious. The political alliance was instantly severed, and a formal declaration was sent to the prince’s kingdom, effectively cutting off all ties and declaring that you were completely free from him.
The day the alliance was dissolved, PreYandere!Prince thought he won. He finally had his "true love" sitting right next to him at his private tea table, no longer hidden in the shadows. But as the hours ticked by, a sickening, hollow feeling started to settle in his chest. His court lady was speaking to him, smiling her usual sweet smile, but he couldn't focus on a single word she was saying. His eyes kept darting to the empty chair across from him the chair where you used to sit, quietly enduring his coldness just to be near him.
The regret sets in like a slow-acting poison, and it’s quickly twisting into a dark, unhinged obsession. He goes to the training grounds, but you aren't there waiting with a towel. He walks the palace corridors, but there are no clumsy, anxious footsteps trying to keep pace with his. He sits through a boring council meeting, and for the first time, no one brings him his specific tea. He realizes, with a sudden, terrifying spike in his pulse, that your warmth wasn't an annoyance it was the only thing keeping his cold world alive. And he threw it away.
PreYandere!Prince tries to find comfort in his "true love," but the illusion has completely shattered. When she spills a drink by accident, his mind instantly flashes back to the way he watched people pour water on you, and a wave of violent, nauseating guilt hits him so hard he has to leave the room. He doesn't want her anymore. He doesn't care about his rebellion. His mind is completely consumed by the memory of your tear-filled eyes looking up at him from the ballroom floor. The yandere switch is officially flipping; he doesn't care that the marriage is cancelled, and he doesn't care that you hate him. He is going to get you back, even if he has to drag your kingdom into a war to do it.
Yandere!Prince completely loses his mind the second he realizes your absence isn't temporary. The cold, empty silence of his palace drives him into a frantic panic. Within forty-eight hours of the engagement being canceled, he sits at his desk and begins writing. He doesn't just send an apology; he sends three letters a day, every single day, bypassing the standard royal couriers and hiring private, high-speed riders just to force his words into your palace.
The content of his letters shifts from desperate apologies to unhinged, possessive gaslighting. He completely rewrites history in his head. He writes pages upon pages detailing how the bullying was just a "test" of your devotion, or how he was only being cold to "protect you from political enemies." He will write things like, "I only let them spill that water so I could see how gracefully you would handle adversity, my love. You must understand that it was all out of adoration."
Yandere!Prince treats your lack of a response as a playful game of hide-and-seek rather than a total rejection. When your father’s royal guards intercept his letters and burn them, he just sends more through black-market contacts or smugglers. He begins attaching expensive, rare gifts to the wax-sealed envelopes—antique jewelry, your favorite tea leaves from foreign lands, and vials of his own cologne so you "don't forget his scent." He writes, "I know you are just hurting right now, but a princess should not keep her future king waiting for too long."
Yandere!Prince "true love" has completely discarded the court lady and now terrifies her. She tries to comfort him or sit at his desk, but he will literally snap at her, his eyes wild and bloodshot as he shoves her away to continue writing to you. He looks at her and feels nothing but disgust because she isn't you. If she speaks, he tells her to be quiet because he "needs to concentrate on making amends with his real spouse."
Yandere!Prince starts sending letters directly to your father, the King, offering insane, highly unfavorable political concessions just to get the marriage contract back on the table. He offers to give up disputed territories, pay massive tributes, and sign away his own kingdom's rights to its resources. His own councilors think he has lost his mind, but he doesn't care about his kingdom anymore. He tells his father, "If we do not secure this alliance, there will be no kingdom left to rule, because I will burn it down myself."
The letters get progressively darker and more threatening as the weeks go by without a reply. The elegant cursive font becomes messy, frantic, and stained with drops of ink (and sometimes his own tears). He starts tracking your daily routine through spies he placed in your kingdom, writing things that prove he’s watching you: "I saw that you wore the blue silk dress to the garden yesterday. It suits you, but it would look better on the balcony of my estate. Do not make me come drag you back myself, my sweet."
Yandere!Prince final letters stop asking for the marriage to continue and start stating it as an absolute, terrifying fact. He writes to you with the chilling certainty of a man who has completely detached from reality. "The priests have already set the date. The chapel is being decorated with your favorite lilies. Your father thinks a piece of paper canceled our souls, but you belong to me. Pack your things, my love. I am coming to collect my bride, and no army on earth is going to stand in my way."
You never understood why everyone was obsessed with him.
He was the type of boy whose name echoed through every hallway. Everyone waved to him. Girls whispered whenever he passed, and boys somehow ended up following him without realizing it.
Bright blond hair.
Lazy eyes.
A smile that could convince people the sun revolved around him.
You?
You didn’t care.
Not because you hated him.
Because he simply belonged to a world that had nothing to do with yours.
𓂃۶ৎ
The first time you noticed him was outside the building.
He was surrounded by a crowd, laughing effortlessly while people practically leaned toward him.
You walked past with your headphones on.
Didn’t even glance twice.
…
The second time…
He was casually walking around.
Again, surrounded.
Again, smiling.
You walked past without looking.
…
The third.
The cafeteria.
Fourth.
The train station.
Fifth.
The convenience store two neighborhoods away.
Sixth.
A cafe you only visited once every few months.
“…”
That one made you pause.
Strange.
What were the chances?
You shrugged it off.
He was popular.
Maybe he just…went everywhere.
𓂃۶ৎ
Weeks passed.
Then months.
Everywhere.
Always.
Like he was a recurring background character in your life.
You’d catch a glimpse of blond hair in the distance.
Turn a corner.
There he was.
Walking across campus.
Buying coffee.
Standing on the opposite side of the road.
Waiting for a train.
Always nearby.
Never approaching.
Never speaking.
Never even acknowledging your existence.
It became almost comforting.
Until…
One rainy afternoon.
You forgot your jacket.
Great.
You sighed and tucked your bag over your head before jogging across campus.
The rain blurred your vision.
Students scattered in every direction.
Then—
You bumped into someone.
“Oh—sorry!”
You stepped back.
“…”
Blue-gray eyes met yours.
For the first time…
He looked directly at you.
His expression froze.
The smile he always wore…
Vanished.
The noisy crowd behind him seemed to disappear.
Everything became silent.
His pupils widened just slightly.
As though…
He had found something.
“…”
“…”
You awkwardly bowed.
“Sorry.”
Then hurried away.
You didn’t notice…
He never took his eyes off your back.
“…”
“So that’s what your voice sounds like.”
He whispered to himself.
The corner of his lips curled upward.
Tiny.
Almost invisible.
“I was beginning to think I’d imagined it.”
𓂃۶ৎ
The next day…
Nothing changed.
Except…
He was always looking.
You felt it before you saw it.
Across the courtyard.
From another classroom.
Second floor.
Behind the library windows.
Whenever you instinctively glanced around…
His eyes were already there.
Watching.
Not smiling.
Just…
Watching.
𓂃۶ৎ
Your friend nudged you.
“…Do you know him?”
“Hm?”
“The popular guy.”
You looked over.
He was already looking away.
“No.”
“…”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“…”
Your friend frowned.
“That’s weird.”
“What is?”
“I swear he’s been staring at you all week.”
You laughed.
“Impossible.”
“He doesn’t even know my name.”
𓂃۶ৎ
Meanwhile.
On the rooftop.
He watched you through the gap in the fence.
“…”
“I know your name.”
His phone screen lit up.
Photos
4,872 images.
Folders neatly organized.
First Day.
Library.
Rain.
Favorite Hoodie.
Smiles.
Walking.
Buying milk.
Looking at cats.
Looking tired.
Looking lonely.
Another folder.
Locked.
Future.
He gently added today’s picture.
You laughing with your friend.
“So pretty.”
𓂃۶ৎ
That evening…
His bedroom looked ordinary.
Clean.
Minimalist.
Awards lined the shelves.
Perfect grades.
Perfect son.
Perfect student.
Inside the bottom drawer…
Hidden beneath folded clothes…
Was an entire notebook.
Every page.
About you.
𓂃۶ৎ
Usually leaves campus as soon as finished.
Wears headphones all the time if not with friends.
𓂃۶ৎ
Looks happier after playing with cat.
𓂃۶ৎ
Gets sick easily during winter.
Remember scarf.
𓂃۶ৎ
He traced your handwriting from an old worksheet someone accidentally left behind.
Smiling.
“You’ll catch another cold soon.”
“I should prepare medicine.”
𓂃۶ৎ
The next morning…
You opened your bag to get ready to study.
“…?”
Inside sat a neatly wrapped scarf.
No note.
No sender.
Just…
Your favorite color.
“…Weird.”
𓂃۶ৎ
You asked around.
Nobody knew.
𓂃۶ৎ
The next week…
Your favorite drink appeared on your desk.
𓂃۶ৎ
A week later…
The novel you wanted.
Sold out everywhere.
Somehow sitting inside your bag.
𓂃۶ৎ
Then…
The stray cat you’d been feeding suddenly wore a new collar.
Exactly the one you had stared at online.
Without buying.
“…”
A cold feeling crept up your spine.
𓂃۶ৎ
You started taking different routes home.
He still appeared.
Different train.
Different street.
Different café.
Always.
Always.
Always.
𓂃۶ৎ
One afternoon you deliberately enter inside an empty classroom which was different from your usual lecture class.
“If someone’s following me…”
You waited.
Ten minutes.
Twenty.
Thirty.
Silence.
You sighed.
“I really am imagining things.”
You stepped into the hallway.
“…”
“…”
He stood there.
As though he’d been waiting outside the entire time.
His expression remained calm.
Almost gentle.
“…Hello.”
The first word he had ever spoken to you.
Your stomach dropped.
“H-Hi…”
He smiled softly.
“I finally get to meet you.”
“…”
“What?”
He tilted his head.
“I’ve been waiting.”
“…”
“For three years.”
The hallway suddenly felt far too quiet.
You forced a laugh.
“We’ve…never talked.”
“I know.”
His smile deepened.
“But I know everything else.”
“…”
“…”
“…Everything?”
He stepped closer.
Not threatening.
Not hurried.
Simply inevitable.
“I know what makes you smile.”
Another step.
“I know what makes you cry.”
Another.
“I know when you skip breakfast.”
Your heartbeat thundered.
“When you’re lonely.”
“When you pretend you’re okay.”
“When your birthday is.”
“When your nightmares get bad.”
“…”
He reached out…
Not to grab you.
Only to gently brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
synopsis : "The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?", a famous, indirect way to say "I love you"
cw : fluff, yearning, a lot of poetic waxing i'm not sorry, not proof read, 1k≈ wc
a/n : this is for the anon who requested "Could we get some Valko yearning for mc 🥀". thank you for the request and i hope you enjoy◝(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)◜
the kind of love valko has for you goes beyond a spoken "I love you".
a few months ago, you had jokingly asked if the way valko loves you is akin to puppy love. to you, it just sounded funny in the way that he's a wolf who is very, very in love with you. and well, you learned that valko hates that term. so much so that he gave you an almost thirty minute long lecture on how 'inaccurate' the term is.
"....people like to say it since it sounds all cute, but it's really not. it's something that comes from immediate infatuation rather than genuine connection- ," honestly, you only picked up on a couple of the words he was saying. it's hard to concentrate when he's pacing the living room, glasses pushed up his face, eyebrows scrunches up in the way it does when he's concentrating on his work.
"okay then," you interrupt his little ramble, reaching out a hand. he stops immediately, meeting you in the middle and melting in your arms while you both lay down on the couch. "if not 'puppy love', then how would you describe this? or well, us?"
he's silent for a moment. you can feel his breathing evening out while he's laying on your chest. you wanted to say that you were only being silly, that you know what he feels is much more than that-
"it's the way I look for you in every space. not just when I know you're not around I hoped you were," his hands trace shapes along your arm, but you can tell he means every words he saying. "It's like.. I'd be walking home and hope to see you when I turn the corner. I could be shopping and see something that's your favorite color and think of you. Even when we're both at home, there isn't a moment when you're not in my line of sight that I wonder where you are"
when he looks up at you, his eyes a mirror of the truth the his soul holds, is when you remember to breath. because no matter the worries you had, or the insecurities you hold, the weight in your heart lightens knowing that valko truly means what he says.
while he holds you in this moment, watching with amusement seeing you process what he just unloaded, valko realizes that, in all the best ways, he has always been utterly gone for you.
it's in the small things. your interests, hobbies, likes and dislikes- these are things that are stored within a permanent folder in his mind. its unconscious for the most part, but if it's brought up in conversation?
"oh, my partner loves that show too." "angel, that's the store you wanted to visit right?" "hey where'd you get that jacket? my love has been wanting something like that for a while now"
it's in the way that nothing can compare to your scent. you've teased him about it, saying that he talks like he's got a nose of a bloodhound. and.. he sorta does.
he could be hosting a meeting, doing a press release, leading a workshop at his company, and without fail he could tell if you walked into the room or not. you've tried testing this claim of his, one day buying a fragrance that is nothing like your usual one. yet when you try to sneak away behind him, his back turned to you, his hand reaches out to pull you into his side regardless. later that day at home he explained that you could try all you wanted- different soap, a new shampoo, yet the result would still be the same.
"I know you and your scent anywhere. it doesn't matter what you layer it with. it's just you. and it's my favorite thing in the world."
he shows his love through the silence too. there's never a moment with him that feels like you need to say anything to fill space. you both would be working on separate projects in the opposite side of the room, but the space is filled with the mutual understanding of I'm here. We're doing our own things, but I'm here if you want to take a break, get some fresh air, anything. I'm here with you.
it's in the way he always finds a way to touch you without it being suffocating. in a crowded street his hand always finds the small of your back. during movie nights he loves nothing more then when you throw your legs over his lap. during corporate galas, valko holds you close in a way that shows you're here with him, and not just for him. even on those rough nights, when you're both sleeping with your backs facing each other, the tip of his tail just grazes your side. a silent peace and apology of vulnerabilty all in one.
one late night, when neither of you could sleep, he asked if you wanted to get some fresh air. a quite content filled drive later, he's brought you to the edge of the city. it's far enough where the building lights sparkles underneath you, but dark enough where you can makeout the stars in the sky.
he's pointing out different constellations, saying how during this time of year certain stars seem closer, when you see the moon.
"Val, look. it's a full moon tonight. pretty, isn't it?"
he watches how the moonlight shines in your eyes. illuminating the face of the soul he loves so dearly. valko doesn't remember how the moon looked like that night, because his sights were set on something he held in his heart dearly.
Synopsis : You've managed to successfully carry out your first kidnapping operation but— oops! It turns out you have the wrong celebrity. You scramble to amend your mistake. But the problem is, your hostage doesn't want to leave.
Tags and Warnings : Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Yandere Themes, Stalking, Abduction, Drugging, Phainon Is Freaky, Attempt At Humor, The Reader Is A Red Flag But Phainon's Into That ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Words : 3797
♡ Note : Watch me lock in for the most random ideas.. okay, that was a lie, this isn't actually random. I wrote down this idea back when the Luckin x HSR collab was first announced and a few days ago, decided to visit the draft again and ended up writing 1k words in one sitting :I But I had lots of fun writing this! And I'll be honest, this fic is mostly crack, so do approach it light-heartedly. Please excuse any unintentional mistakes and happy reading <3
「 Artwork Credits 」 「 Read On AO3 」
“Kafka, please tell me you're teasing me.”
Your fingers grip onto the phone, preventing it from sliding off from your increasingly sweaty palm. For half a minute, you hold your breath. The quip or that familiar light-hearted drawl that you’d been praying for never comes, solidifying your situation.
“I told you to read the target’s description carefully, sweetie.”
That ticks a nerve, “But I did! You told me : white hair, blue eyes, tall, male, obnoxious smile—”
“And does that one in front of you really seem like someone who’d be on our hit-list?” the woman leisurely interrupts, you can quite well picture the way her eyes are probably sweeping over her nails in your mind.
At that, you turn towards the cause of this mess. Silver-blue hair shifts and glimmers under the dim light of the room, a vein starts to bulge in your forehead from the drag of the chair’s legs against the floor. The fool uses whatever remains of his strength to push his chair closer towards the black blob of fur lounging on the table.
“Pspspsps…” he even has the audacity to say, probably planning on petting the cat with his head at this point.
And then, as if remembering his circumstances, he lifts his head towards where you stand by the door and swivels his head away, nearly toppling down with the chair, whistling innocently.
There's a muffled sound coming from the other end of the call, Silver Wolf’s poor attempt at hiding a laugh, you realize.
“I thought so.” Kafka says at last, acknowledging the meaning of your silence.
“Look, I know how it must look now, but there are hundreds of men who look like this on this planet alone—” you attempt one last time to salvage some dignity.
“[Name],” immediately your mouth shuts upon recognizing the tone, “What do we do when we make mistakes?”
You avert your eyes, lips pursing, words practically a grumble, “Not make excuses…”
“And?”
“Fix them.” you grit out after much struggle.
“Yes. So, what are you waiting for? You know what to do, don't you?” a clink echoes from Kafka’s wine glass settling on the table, signaling the finale of this exchange.
You mutter a half-hearted agreement, still petulant. Not really paying much attention to whatever she says afterwards as the call ends.
Six months. Twenty six weeks. One hundred and eighty three days of sleepless observing, learning and planning to pin down one man just to be told that you had the wrong person since the beginning. A sigh forces its way past your lips as you shove the phone in your pocket, repressing the urge to throw it at the nearest wall instead.
“Luckin Luckin, drink it up..”
All your muscles stiffen as that familiar jingle drifts to your ears, you sharply turn to see your hostage swaying from side to side on the chair as he sings that damnable song without a care in the world.
“Carrying carrying, Snowy’s here!”
Instantly, a maelstrom of memories flood your mind.
“A leap that leads to an encounter with you!~”
Days of dealing with stupid customers, a narcissistic boss and loud fangirls just to get close to the celebrity. Abandoning your self respect as an aspiring Hunter to suffer in minimum wage hell all for it to mean nothing.
“Today’s a lucky day— uwah!!”
A loud thunk echoes in the air, startling the napping cat and silencing that maddening tune for good, your heavy breaths prompt him to hold his.
You look up to his bewildered form so quickly he wonders how you didn't snap your neck, cyan eyes almost bulging out of their sockets.
You dare him to maintain eye-contact, which he loses within two seconds, flickering downwards to where the heel of your shoe rests in between the gap of his legs.
(If anyone asked later, you’d deny the reason you’d retreated was not for the loud gulp he’d forced down his throat, or the flush of pink coating his cheeks.)
“Phainon.”
The addressed man stiffens further at the terse way you use his name, “Uhm, yes?! Uh- Well-”
His sputtering spree stops as you flash him a dazzling smile, the remaining adrenaline manifesting in a flinch instead.
“How do you feel?” you ask sweetly.
If Phainon was bewildered before, his cognitive abilities are out of function now. His mouth opens and closes, neurons firing and synapses aligning to form one response.
“I'm fine? How about you?” and then his whole face flushes as he realizes how dumb that sounded.
A corner of your lips twitch, which you immediately smother as Phainon fake-coughs, “I mean! I’m okay… but! I definitely would be finer if you… loosened these ropes?”
You fix his sweetened smile with a blank look and Phainon bends after three seconds, “Only if you want to, of course! No pressure!”
You shift to lean your weight on one leg, a hand gripping your hip as Phainon looks at anything but you, bouncing one of his legs. You catch a glimpse of his hands twisting behind his back against the restraints.
A hum from you stops Phainon’s squirming just a little, “Don’t worry. You’ll feel ‘finer’ soon.”
The man whips his head just as your shadow falls upon him, the response that’d been on the tip of his tongue dies there as you reach behind him.
He inhales sharply at your sudden proximity and his mouth runs before he could stop himself, “M-my, are you going to pin my arms above my head? Oh noooo, please don't! I won't be able to move my hands ahaha—”
His teasing bravado falls flat as light glints over the needle of the syringe you fix.
“Ha…”
You look at his gaping expression from your peripheral, “I told you not to worry, didn't I? It’ll sting just a little bit. Then, you’ll wake up forgetting everything that happened.”
Phainon straightens at that, face twisted in alarm, “Wait wait! No no no! I swear on Aedes Elysiae that I won't tell anyone about this, just wait—”
He tugs at the ropes with a sudden burst of energy and to his luck, the ropes loosen just enough for him to wiggle one hand out.
But that's where his stretch of fortune ends, a gasp is all that is heard as you strike the needle of the syringe right on the tattooed sun at the side of his neck.
Your left hand raises as his head limps forward, all the energy sapped out of his body in an instant. You toss the syringe aside, the previously napping cat catches it midair and drops it in an open plastic bag nearby.
You place your now free hand on his shoulder, steadying him so that he doesn't topple you over. A web of the next steps already taking shape in your mind.
Your thumb traces an absentminded circle over his cheek one last time before you let him go, trying your hardest to not think about the softness of his skin, or how you wished to feel more of it.
—
A week later, you sit at a secluded corner in the dining space of a fast-food chain, three tables away from your real target.
Your thumb swipes over the screen of your phone, pretending to scroll alongside the occasional munch of the fries you’d ordered.
Your attention, albeit, is zeroed on the man talking animatedly to the person in front of him.
You surmised it to be an argument, and the realization begets a pleased spark in you. The more tumultuous the emotions, the easier it was to bait someone.
“So, who are we stalking this time?”
You tilted your head, stealing a glance at the man in front of you over the rim of your glasses.
“The one with the shades, voice so booming it might as well be a verbal attack—”
Wait a minute.
You don't recall bringing a partner.
Slowly, you turn your head to your left, eyes long having forgotten how to blink.
“Missed me?” his voice drips of honey, sitting in utter leisure with a measly one inch gap between you, one elbow propped on the table, cheek pillowed by his palm.
Your soul almost leaves your body.
Phainon— damnable Phainon— blinks for a good few seconds in what appears to be concern at the force of your flinch, before an amused chuckle echoes from behind his masked face.
“You— what— how—?” your arms flail, trying to make sense of it. Why are you here? Why are you talking like you know me? Did the drug not work? How did you find me?
Phainon leans back slightly with a hum, his silver-blue tresses dance along the gesture, “It seems like you did miss me, a lot.”
Your brain ceases buffering at that, rebooting to adapt to the sudden change of circumstance, “Who… says I missed you? I don't even know who you are!” you cross your arms, angling your head straight.
Phainon makes a pained sound, a gloved raises to clutch at his chest, ever the actor he is, “Now you're just breaking my heart, Mx. Kidnapper! After we shared such an intimate, heartfelt experience—”
He lowers the volume of his exclamation at the death glare you direct at him, but doesn't stop, “Ahh, how I ache! But it's alright. I know you may pretend to be annoyed with me, but there's a soft spot for me in your heart. You even tucked me into bed even though I was such a naughty boy—”
Your jaw slackens, eyes appalled as he continues his soliloquy about intimacy and punishment, without a care in the world about how easy it’d be for him to get exposed here out of his stereotypical celebrity disguise.
You force yourself to swallow, no no, there is definitely something more to this. At the same time, your actual target springs from his seat, following after the other guy in a rush and that prompts you to attempt an escape.
You yelp, as the momentum of you standing up is used to yank you back down, your hand shoots out to cushion the abrupt pull, landing right on Phainon's thigh in time with his breath brushing over your face.
“Ah ah ah,” he tuts, fingers fisting into the fabric covering your arm, “Running away so soon, Mx. Kidnapper?”
His free hand hovers over your hips for a brief moment, you can feel the weight of his hand even from the inch of distance and you instinctively draw in a breath as the tips of his fingers brush against the dip of your waist.
The golden flecks in his eyes twinkle behind his shades, you blink out of the daze as he raises his wandering hand to re-adjust your crooked glasses instead.
“I could kill you.” your whisper is far too loud in the thick silence.
There are a million other things you could've said, million ways you could've shoved him away. But your mind decides to not be partial to either.
Phainon tilts his head, eyes softening in what you could only assume was curiosity, “You wouldn't,” his response is just as tender, just as heavy as your threat.
You scoff at his audacity, pulling back with a jerk, and he lets go of your hand when you sit down beside him instead of running away.
“And why wouldn't I?”
The playful edge returns to Phainon’s countenance, “Because you own a cat.” he declares with the utmost confidence.
You stare at him blankly, “What? Cat?” and then you realize what it was that he was referring to, “You idiot, that wasn't my cat, that was my boss.”
Phainon blinks once before a carefree chuckle leaves him, he waves a hand, “Oh, I know! You cat-people treat your cats like they're your employers, no? Not saying that I don't get it, by the way! Completely valid, completely valid.”
Your eye twitches in irritation and resignation, realizing that he couldn't be shaken out of whatever narrative he’d convinced himself of. You lose any motivation to argue with him further, suddenly conscious of how ‘my boss is a cat’ sounds like to an ordinary person.
“Anywho!” you flinch as he stops his frantic waving to point a finger directly at you, you realize then that this man would give you a heart-attack if you don't leave soon. “To return to the point I was making, you won't kill me. Because I know that beneath all those scoffs and eye-rolls, you actually have a really soft heart.”
You reward his oh-so-confident exclamation with a deadpan.
“I am a wanted criminal.”
Phainon flinches and gears up in defense, “C-criminal?! Don’t sell yourself short! You're a… professional! Are you not?” he fixes his sunglasses and places a hand over his heart, “But even that is a matter of perspective. I know that villains are made, not born. If we're condemning anyone, it should be society! What I'm trying to say is— wait! Don't go! Wait!”
You equip yourself with imaginary noise-cancellation and get up to leave with a determined gait, no longer trusting yourself to stay sane before this man’s yapping.
Phainon scrambles after you, his legs eating up the distance with a few strides, “Mx. Kidna—”
The tips of his fingers brush by your scarf, before being shoved aside by a waiter in-rush. The noise of Phainon's shades hitting the tiled floor resounds as its pushed from his face from the impact.
The waiter gasps.
“Phainon?!”
Immediately, all the heads nearby turn, footsteps and swooning eating up the previous silence. Within seconds, Phainon is swallowed by a crowd.
“I’m extremely sorry, I'm in a hurry—” his plea is pushed aside by the excited yells of admiration and requests of autographs, the crowd does not budge an inch.
Phainon can only watch helplessly as your silhouette disappears amidst the helter-skelter.
—
A few weeks have gone by since that incident, the majority of which you’d passed in your apartment after a reasonable amount of earful from the others.
“Elio says that you should lay low for a while. The mission will be handed over to Bladie instead.” Kafka had instructed.
“Don’t leave your place unless absolutely necessary, we’ll be investigating the case.”
And, you did as you were told, left with no other option besides reflecting over everything that had happened throughout the past six months.
You couldn't even bring yourself to feel frustrated this time, numbed from the failure of being unable to complete the one assignment that would've solidified your position as a Stellaron Hunter.
You were half expecting police to kick down your door any hour of the day, but nothing happened, not even a peep was heard about the fact that Amphoreus’ golden boy had gotten kidnapped even after a month since the incident. But you chalked it up to be one of your colleagues’ work.
And every time your thoughts circled back to that day’s incident, your mind arrived at the same conclusion again and again.
That man was dangerous.
Not necessarily in terms of strength (though you weren't very confident about this point either), but for how he’d tipped you off of your axis so effortlessly that day.
You have a soft spot for me in your heart, his words would invade your mind in the middle of washing dishes. Villains are made not born, the statement would gyrate in your head as you twisted and turned while trying to chase after sleep, the image of that annoyingly cute, repulsively adorable smile would flash before your eyes—
Then, there were the texts.
“Good morning (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧”
“Have you had lunch yet? D:”
“Don’t stay up too late playing otome games!”
You’d initially thought them to be Silver Wolf messing around with Blade’s number or something, or even bots. But the more you ignored them, the less and less avoidable they became.
“The new pajamas are so cute! I love the cat print (≧▽≦)”
“Coffee mug placed precariously close to the edge of the table. Alert alert!”
“You left the hair-tie on the sink.”
“A roach almost crawled on your bedsheets last night, but don't worry! I took care of it (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧”
“You look so cute when you're fidgeting, Mx. Kidnapper.”
It was only after a reluctant consultation with Silver Wolf that you found out, “Someone had hacked into your webcam.” you felt your heart drop, not because of the news, but because of the twinge of worry in her usually deadpan voice. “You should check your whole apartment, too. For secret cameras and tampered locks.”
You could only hear the drumming of your own heartbeat in your ear, the apartment canopied by a deafening silence as you plucked the cameras one by one— two from the potted plants of your bedroom, one in your shower, one in your kitchen and one from the socket of your living room.
You gripped your phone tightly in one hand, the device already cracked from when you’d thrown it towards the wall in your earlier panic.
The bite of the splintered screen against your palm grounded you, giving you courage to check the locks.
Communication from their end had gone conveniently quiet, leaving you to fend for yourself until further notice. It was no secret anymore who the sender of those creepy texts was, but it didn't make it any less disbelieving.
You're jolted out of your daze as the doorbell rings at the same time as you twisting the screw in on the additional lock.
You hold your breath, again, it rings, confirming that you didn't mishear.
For a moment, you consider backing off and crawling under the bed, not at all interested in finding out who was behind the door, even though there was a good chance for the person behind it to be one of your colleagues.
But that treacherous, curious part of you whispered, nudging you closer and closer to the door until you were looking straight through the peephole, towards a far too familiar pair of cyan eyes.
“I know you're in there, Mx. Kidnapper.”
You jerked away, nearly toppling over a stray wrench on the floor.
Phainon. Phainon was was right behind your front door, confirming all the facts you’d wrestled with denial against up until now, attempting to break into your apartment with an ease that made you shudder.
Had anyone told you that this man, this ordinary pretty boy whose smile earned him his livelihood, who you’d been targeting to kill would be the one to corner you in your own home even a day ago, you would've laughed and rolled around on the floor.
The frantic clicks of him attempting to twist the locks brought you back and sigh tumbled out of your lips.
At least, the extra locks you’d put and the drawers you’d pushed against the door would be able to keep him at bay, enough time for you to think about your next move.
Which, namely, were two — you could either climb down from the nineteenth floor right now, or you could push another closet to the front door and wait until one of your colleagues came to rescue you.
Wait a minute. Your thoughts screeched to a halt ; run? Hide? All against one ordinary actor who you definitely would win against in a brawl should it come? You're seriously on the verge of having a panic attack from that? Where's your pride as an aspiring Stellaron Hunter?
Your fingers stopped their tapping against your arm, you turned to cast one last look at the door, and then swiveled on your heels towards the kitchen to make yourself something warm, enjoying the frustrated noises of Phainon trying to unlock the door as you turned on the stove.
—
That night, you had a marvelous sleep, belly full with a hearty dinner and moisturized skin. Both sides of your pillow were cold, the sillage of sunlight still lingered on your bedsheets.
A dream unfolds and cradles you. Sunny skies, the scent of petrichor, cars whoosh by, billboards flashing blinding smiles, a ray of light — reach for it, grasp it, the whirr of coffee machines, the buzz of crowds, shadows fall, the lonely strum of a guitar, tousled silver-blue, oh how you yearn, a palimpsest of memories sealed in tar, a hand brushing away wayward strands of hair, fingers in between yours—
… Fingers in between yours?
You gasp, nails digging into skin and sinew.
One blink, the blue of your bedsheets become clear to you in the dimmed light of the night.
Another, and startled cyan gleaming in the dark, amusement slowly crawling from the corners of those eyes.
“I used to be into lock-picking.” he twirls a hinge between pale fingers, useless now for anything besides mocking your hubris.
You spring forward, one hand still holding onto his wrist, the other wrapping firmly around his throat and push him down to the floor.
The hinge clatters to the ground.
An ‘oof’ heaves out of Phainon's lips as his head hits the cold tiles, getting cut-off towards the end as you squeeze against his windpipe, your legs wrap around his midriff.
“You.” Phainon snaps his eyes open to meet your shadowed visage, his Adam's Apple bobs against your hand as he swallows hard.
And then, his face flushes bright red, from the tips of his ears to the nape of his neck.
“Finally, finally you're looking at me again, Mx. Kidnapper.” he exhales, you blink as his free hand raises to not push you away, but to tuck a strand of hair away from your face, baring your bewildered expression to him.
“…What?” your grip slackens in surprise.
The corners of Phainon's eyes crinkle as he smiles so wide it nearly splits his face, “I missed the feeling of having your eyes on m-me.” he chokes slightly as you squeeze his throat again, his body goes utterly pliant beneath you.
“I—I quite… enjoyed you watching me, y-you know?” there's something of a pout in his voice, even as he’s getting the life choked out of him and his eyes— oh, there's apparitions of hearts setting those cyan eyes ablaze.
You let go in horror, but don't succeed in retreating far as he clamps one hand firmly on your waist, dragging you back to straddle his hips.
“Never do that again, okay?” his request is sickeningly sweet but there's steel in his gaze. You have a feeling he isn't just referring to you holding him down. His other hand guides yours back to his neck, placing it right against where a blazing sun bleeds into skin.
Tracing a maddening circle over your hand, “I’d say it's a fair bargain. Stalking for stalking, attention for attention, affection for affection, ownership for ownership.”
Synopsis: You discover an underrated author and became his first follower. He eventually grows more popular, yet out of all readers, his attention is focused solely on you. At first, it feels flattering. Until his attention grows more personal… and more intense.
Parasocial obsession doesn’t always come from the fan.
My Favorite Reader
You weren’t expecting much when you found his account.
Just a small writing blog with maybe a handful of views. A few short stories posted here and there. Most of them soft little romance pieces, the kind that felt warm and comforting to read after a long day.
Barely anyone seemed to notice them with the little likes and views each post had. Even more when the account sat at exactly zero followers. Which felt like a crime.
So you followed him. And started leaving comments.
At first they were simple.
“I loved this scene.”
“Your dialogue is really sweet.”
“Looking forward to the next one.”
You didn’t expect a reply.
But he answered.
Every single time.
Always politely. Always thoughtfully. Thanking you for reading. Asking what parts you liked the most.
Maybe it’s because of how much you’ve been spamming his account with comments that he noticed. But it still felt nice how the author kept interacting with you, genuinely interested in your opinion.
So you kept commenting.
On every story.
Every chapter.
Every little drabble he posted.
And somehow… he always found your comment in the small crowd of replies.
Eventually, he started posting photos of himself alongside his updates.
That was when the follower count exploded.
Apparently, people liked seeing the face behind the stories.
He was handsome, simple as that. Soft-looking, gentle in the way he smiled at the camera. The kind of face people shared around easily.
Within weeks, the account that once had almost no attention was overflowing with it.
Comments poured in under every post.
Some praised his writing.
Many more praised his looks.
He kept posting stories like always, occasionally attaching a selfie to the update. It was probably a smart move. The attention only kept growing.
In one of those selfies, the background looked oddly familiar. For a second you almost thought it resembled a street near your workplace.
But that was impossible… so you ignored the thought. Shoving it to the back of your mind.
And if you had to admit… the face reveal did change things a little.
It was easier to picture the author behind the words now.
And maybe it made the stories feel just a bit more personal. More intimate.
But even with hundreds of new followers…
He still replied to you.
Without fail.
Your comment.
Every time.
It became a little routine.
You read his story. You left your thoughts. He replied.
It was so simple and comfortable, this consistent interaction between you both.
Until one week you got busy.
Work had been exhausting. Long shifts, late nights. You barely had time to check your phone at all.
You didn’t read the new story he posted.
You didn’t comment either.
A few days passed like that.
When you finally opened the app again, you had a message waiting for you.
In your inbox, It was a DM from him.
“Hey.” ”You haven't commented in a while.” “Are you alright?”
You blinked at the screen.
It was… oddly personal. It gave you the chills to know this now popular author had noticed your absence, despite the large crowd of other readers and commenters.
But you pushed the feeling away, maybe he was just being nice. Objectively this small message really is nice, he’s asking about the readers’ wellbeing.
So you replied.
“Sorry! Work has been really busy lately.”
You stared at the message for a moment before sending it.
The second you did, the typing indicator appeared.
He must have been online already, you told yourself.
His response came almost immediately.
“I’m glad you're okay.” “I was worried.”
After that, things started feeling different.
His replies to your comments grew longer.
More attentive.
Sometimes he referenced little things you had mentioned weeks ago.
Your job… Your schedule… The time you usually read his posts…
Once he even joked about the coffee you always grabbed before work. Something you were pretty sure you’d never actually mentioned in a comment.
Other fans started noticing too. It was hard not to notice, his interaction with the other readers were never this detailed. In fact, he hasn’t been replying to the other comments at all.
People occasionally replied under your comments.
“How do you know him?”
“Why does he only reply to you?”
You didn’t know how to answer that. None of it made sense to you either. Is this some kind of loyalty the author was showing for being his first follower?
The questioning replies were starting to increase along with his fame. Eventually the attention started making you uncomfortable.
So you stopped commenting.
Just for a little while, you told yourself. Maybe the attention would die down.
You muted notifications and avoided opening the app entirely.
It was easier that way.
Quieter.
A week passed just like that.
Then another.
And it was already a month before you knew it.
One evening, out of habit, you opened the site again.
His newest story sat at the top of your feed. You clicked on it without thinking. The whole action was basically ingrained in your mind after daily check-ins like a routine.
At first it seemed like any other story he wrote. Soft tone, gentle pacing, his unique writing style. Nothing really seemed to change in the last month you didn’t check in.
But as you kept reading…
Your stomach slowly dropped. Shivers despite the weather enveloped you.
The main character was a woman.
She worked your exact job.
Her schedule matched yours perfectly.
Her habits. Her little routines. The way she stopped for coffee before work.
Even the way her appearance was described screamed familiar. Oddly specific…
Every detail was right.
Too right.
It wasn’t just inspired by you.
It was you.
You scrolled to the top of the page again, your fingers suddenly cold.
Then you noticed the dedication line above the story.
For my favorite reader.
Your phone buzzed with a notification.
A new message.
From him.
You hesitated before opening it.
“I was worried when you stopped reading.”
How did he know you were back? That you just read his newest story? You didn’t even comment on the post, no, you never even left a like.
Synopsis: You’re a witch known for making love potions. They're fake. The reviews are real. Your track record? Immaculate. Until a duke walks in, covered in blood, and demands you reverse the spell you cast on him.
You didn't cast anything.
He doesn't care.
And now you live in his mansion.
Love Potion or Love at First Sight?
"Are you sure this is it?"
"Yes yes! This is the love potion. Now pay up or leave because I have other customers to attend to!"
You groan at the woman hesitating in front of you, wasting your time.
You're an infamous witch known in the black market for selling all types of spells and potions for a hefty sum.
Your most popular item? The love potion.
Which is actually just… an aphrodisiac.
But after selling 170 potions? You've only ever received positive reviews. All from noblewomen, lovestruck and happy with the results.
What can you say? You've always known men to be lustful creatures, barren from emotions. After selling a 170 with zero bad reviews? Your ideology is proven correct.
"Are you sure it works?" the woman whispers.
"100% customer satisfaction guaranteed!"
She still looks nervous.
"And if it doesn't work, you can come back and I'll give double your money back as refund."
The woman nods. Pays. Leaves.
Another positive review, you think to yourself. Already confident and marking this as your 171st success.
…
You just didn’t expect your first bad review to appear right in front of your face.
The door slams open.
A man stands in your doorway.
Black hair. Red eyes. Blood splattered across his face, his clothes, his sword.
"So," The bloody man starts.
"You're the witch selling cheap love elixirs all over the market."
You don't answer. Your hand slides toward the defense charm under your counter.
Because this wasn’t just any man, this was the war-crazed duke feared by all of society.
"You better pay for this."
…Guess you'll be closing the shop for a while.
___________
And… you've been working at his mansion ever since.
Tasked with reversing whatever spell you supposedly casted on him. Despite all your protests, despite swearing up and down that you never did anything.
He doesn't believe you.
He won't believe you.
Because how else do you explain what he felt when he walked into your shop? That made his sword hand waver and his heart stutter, and his threats turn into something softer?
Obviously, you’ve cursed him. There was no need to investigate this any further, nor did he feel the need to tell you about all these symptoms.
So now you're stuck in a massive estate with a madman who thinks you cursed him, brewing antidote after antidote, watching nothing work.
You could only curse that woman.
The one who bought the potion and slipped it to him. The one who left you with this mess and then promptly left this world, if the blood on his sword was any indication.
Damn her.
What the hell did she see in this man anyway?
Because here's the thing you're learning, piece by piece. The duke? He's not just some nobleman. He's the nobleman. The one everyone whispers about. The one who's had three fiancées and buried all of them. The one who allegedly keeps a dungeon beneath the east wing and a graveyard behind the west garden.
The madman of high society.
If only you'd known he was the target that woman was after, you would've never sold her that potion. Never agreed to the commission. Never opened your stupid mouth about the satisfaction guarantee!!
But you didn't know.
And now you're stuck with the aftermath…
___________
At first, the madman kept you confined to a workspace somewhere within the mansion.
Close enough to monitor. Far enough to ignore.
Then, he started calling for you more often. Checking on your progress. Standing just a little too close while you worked. Watching you with scrutinizing red eyes.
And then, he started sticking around you 24/7, following you from room to room like some clingy puppy who couldn't bear for you to leave his sight.
Even that wasn’t enough. At some point, you stopped being assigned a room at all.
Wherever he was… that became your workspace.
You’d turn around and he’d be there.
In the doorway. Behind you. Leaning against the wall like he’d been there the whole time.
Like he had nowhere else to be. Don’t dukes have better things to do? Go tend to your paperwork or something!!
Through it all, he's never kind. Still angry. Still demanding. Still barking orders about reversing the damn spell.
But he never hurts you.
His threats are loud. His hands are rough. His voice could shatter glass.
But you've started to notice something.
He always stops. It’s all bark but no bite…
And it becomes a routine.
You work. He watches. You brew. He hovers. You try to leave. He blocks the door.
At some point, he has you working in his bedroom.
No, like, actually. He stooped to this level of stupidity, allowing needing you to stay in his chambers at night.
He's sleeping on the bed and you have to sit beside him. On the floor. With your books and your herbs and your constantly dying patience.
You don't know when this became normal.
You hate that it feels normal.
__________
Tonight, you try to get up.
His hand immediately shoots out to grab your wrist.
"Where do you think you're going?"
You don't flinch anymore. The first few times, you did. Now? You just sigh.
"I'm trying to study for a reverse spell. Or a cure. For you, remember?"
"Stay."
His voice is flat. Unreasonable. Like he's not even considering the possibility of you leaving.
"I can't work if I'm stuck by your side, your grace."
"Leave and I'll rip your throat out."
You've heard this before. The first time, you froze. The second time, you nearly cried. The third time, you started noticing the pattern.
He never follows through.
Not with you.
"Your grace," you say, calm as anything, "you can't do that. Who will reverse your spell if not the caster?"
His jaw tightens. His grip on your wrist doesn't loosen.
But he knows you're right.
He's quiet for a long moment. Thinking. And you can see the exact second he shifts tactics.
"Then I'll slit the throats of all the guards outside who allow you to leave this room."
"…I'm sat."
You sit back down on the floor. Head leaning against the bed where his hand lingers limbly. Sometimes brushing your hair unconsciously, like it was to make sure you were still there.
And you work on the spell in his chambers all night long. Barely getting a blink of sleep.
He, on the other hand?
Dead to the world.
The madman who threatened to rip your throat out twenty minutes ago is now curled up on his ridiculous silk sheets, snoring softly.
His face is slack. Peaceful. Innocent in a way that makes you want to throw a pillow at his head.
You've noticed this before. The way his eyes get heavy when you're nearby. The way his shoulders drop when you enter the room. And the way his threats get lazier the longer you stay.
At first, you thought it was the potion's side effects.
Now you're starting to think he just… can't sleep without you.
Which is not your problem. You didn't sign up to be a nobleman's sleeping charm. You're a witch. A busy one! One who is currently being held against her will in a mansion that smells too much like old money and fresh blood.
And yet.
Here you are.
Watching him sleep.
Because if you move, he wakes up. And if he wakes up, he gets grumpy. And if he gets grumpy, he threatens to kill someone.
Usually the guards.
You've started to feel kind of bad for the guards.
"I hope you wake up with a stiff neck," you mutter, dipping your quill in ink. "I hope you stub your toes when you wake up. I hope your breakfast is cold and your tea is bitter and your horse steps on your foot."
His lips curl up softly. Like you're singing him a lullaby.
Your quill scratches to a halt.
"…I hope you dream about spiders," you try, weaker this time.
His smile deepens.
He doesn't wake up. He just… rests. Peaceful and content. Like your curses are the sweetest words he's ever heard.
You stare at him.
Then you look down at your notes. At the page full of failed antidotes and useless counter-spells.
At the truth you've been avoiding for weeks.
Nothing is wrong with him.
The potion didn't work.
He's just like this.
You set down your quill.
Press your palms to your eyes.
And wonder, for the thousandth time, what in the hell you did to deserve this.
Maybe its time you suggest a psychiatrist.
___________
Little did both of you know.
The potion didn't work on him.
It never could have. Years of assassination attempts had made his body resistant to poisons, potions, anything ingested.
The drink that woman slipped him? It passed through his system like water. Barely a flicker of discomfort. A vague pulling in his chest that he dismissed as irritation.
He came to your shop that day ready to kill the witch who made it.
Not because the potion had affected him.
But because he was annoyed.
Someone had tried to enchant him. Someone had failed. And he wanted to make an example of the person responsible.
Until he saw you.
And something in his chest pulled again.
Not the potion. That was already gone.
Something else.
Something he didn't have a name for.
He still doesn't have a name for it. He calls it a curse. A spell. Your fault.
It's not.
He was just love-struck at first sight.
And he's been falling harder and harder with each day that passes.
Deep in his sleep, one thought surfaces in his mind.
Thinking about Yandere Neighbour Gojo who had only started talking to you to use you as a cover when his one-night stands came back for more. Claiming he had entered a relationship with you and using you to chase his many lovers off. He hadn't anticipated how much fun you would be to talk to. How calming your presence would be, how endearing you would come to seem to him. Before he knew it he didn't want anyone else, just you. Whether you wanted him back or not.
Wordcount: 13k+ (Supposed to be like 6k at most but again that freaky-eyed bastard just does not let me write a short fic about him)
Notes: Not canon-compliant. Yandere behaviour, forced confinement and violence. Dub-con and non-con touching and kissing
Your neighbour was at it again, the sound of the bedframe knocking against the wall making it seem like they might just crash into your apartment at any moment. Moans so loud it sounded like someone was getting exorcised instead of merely getting their rocks off.
You pulled your noise cancelling earbuds out of your bedside drawer, plugging them into your ears with a sigh. You could only hope this particular session would be over before you fell asleep so you could take them out to ensure you didn't miss your alarm in the morning. Finally getting to read without the sounds of fornication to disturb you.
You must have fallen asleep while reading, when you woke up in the morning it was twenty minutes past when your alarm had started ringing. Turning the alarm off you forced yourself out of your bed and through your morning routine to get ready for work. Skipping a breakfast with the intention of grabbing something during a quiet moment at the library.
The elevator seemed to have been fixed over the weekend, making you feel slightly better about your day as you waited for it to open at your floor. Hearing a door open down the hallway and refusing to turn back knowing all too well what you would see.
"I'll walk you out. Need to check the mail." You heard a masculine voice say making you sigh inwardly. The elevator doors opened just as the found of footsteps started down the hall and you stood as far against the side as you could, hoping to be able to claim ignorance if caught not holding the door open.
A large pale hand grabbed onto one side of the closing door just as it was about to shut, the porcelain greek god like bare upper body of your neighbour coming into view as the doors opened back up. Gojo Satoru stood tall and proud as his partner from the night before clapped and cheered for him as though he'd done something miraculous. A smirk twisting up those naturally pouty pink lips as he sauntered in.
You crowded yourself further into the wall, not wanting to bear witness to their top 1 percent joy this early in the morning. They could have been mistaken for filming a condom ad with the sexual tension the two were oozing and how good looking they were, the pretty girl giggling as Gojo cornered her against the wall.
The moment the elevator doors opened you went flying past the lovey dovey pair, not wanting to spend even a moment longer in the presence of such nauseating physical perfection. It was criminal to have to bear witness to when you hadn't even had a drop of caffeine yet.
You'd never spoken to your neighbour, to be fair you didn't speak to any of your neighbours except when the lady across had asked if you lived in the building. That too because she had grown suspicious seeing you loitering in the doorway as you tried to find your key. You had the magical ability to go unseen, blending into the background wherever you went and it suited you very well.
You weren't like your glamorous neighbour who had a new paramour every week. Each as ridiculously beautiful as the last. Some you never saw again and others you heard crying and screaming outside his door late into the night. That was how you'd learned his name, between all the curse words and wishes of ill will, they called him Gojo Satoru when threatening him.
It was quite possible you may have never spoken to one another if only you hadn't bumped right into him later that week. You'd been on your way back from a closing shift at work, having picked up some thai curry to treat yourself for getting through a long week. The moment the elevator doors opened you could hear the screaming and crying telling you your neighbour was going through another rather one-sided breakup.
You kept your head down, not even looking up as the expletives got more colourful or the threats more ruinous. You had almost made it to your door when suddenly something large slammed into you making your container of curry pop open and spill all over you.
You stared down in shock as the hot curry sank into your clothes, glancing up slowly to look into blindingly bright blue eyes. You grimaced, about to step past him when a large hand folded around your wrist, holding you in place.
"Darling I'm so sorry, I didn't know you were coming early." Gojo said and you frowned at him, wondering if he was mistaking you for someone else but you really did not look like any of his usual visitors.
"Uh I think-" You started but were cut off as Gojo yanked you forward past your door to his apartment where the girl was watching you both in bewilderment.
"Goodness look what I've done. I'm so sorry, let me get these clothes in the wash and run you a nice bath. Sorry Shelly I forgot to tell you but my darling girlfriend here has finally decided she's done exploring and so we're back together. I can't be seeing anyone else, we're going to be exclusive now." Your neighbour said, opening his door and pulling you into his apartment. Slamming the door shut the moment you both were through.
"My name's Kelly you asshole." The girl outside yelled, a bang sounding against the door as though she had kicked it making you flinch. The sound of angry stomping footsteps down the hall told you she had finally had enough and left.
"Thank you so much for helping me back there." Gojo said and you turned towards him to find his blue eyes already on you. So bright they were a bit unsettling.
"Um no problem." You said, not thinking it was very polite to point out that you had actually not helped out so much as been dragged around like a ragdoll.
"I'm so sorry about your clothes and your food darling, I can wash those for you if you want."
"Sorry, I do need to clarify, you don't know me." You said, hoping he wasn't actually mistaking you for someone he knew. Considering the many visitors you had seen coming in and out of his apartment it wasn't too unfair to wager he might have lost track of all the faces at some point.
"I know." He said with a blindingly bright smile.
"I can give you something to wear while I throw those in the laundry for you. Order you some food while you wait to make up for ruining your clothes and dinner." Gojo offered and you came to the sad realization that you had blended into the background so well that your neighbour of the past eight months had no idea you lived right next door.
"We're neighbours actually, I live in apartment 610. I'll just go change there." You said, awkwardly pointing towards the direction of your apartment.
"Are we really?" Gojo asked and you nodded.
"Wow you must have just moved in." He continued.
"Not quite, but you have a good night." You said, about to leave before he could drill in any further how very unmemorable you were.
"Can I buy you dinner? To make up for making you drop yours?" Gojo asked and you shook your head, already reaching for his door handle.
"Wait, let me at least pay you for the dry cleaning and food then. You really saved me from what probably would have been an hour minimum more of screaming and crying."
He didn't even wait for you to voice your protests before he ran into his room. Emerging after a moment with a $100 bill in his hand. He grabbed your wrist, putting the bill into your hand and walking you backwards out of his apartment through the door you had opened before you got a chance to tell him it was entirely too much.
"Let me know if you need any help getting around the area, I've been living here for 8 months so I know it quite well." Gojo said, beaming down at you.
"Will do." You muttered, merely nodding as he bid you a goodnight and shut the door in your face. Turning to look at the spilled curry and your shoulders slumping as you realized you would have to clean that. Though you had made $100 so it wasn't all bad. Take out the cost of ordering food delivery to make up for the curry you'd dropped and you still had enough to treat yourself a couple more times than planned for this month.
That day you learned that on top of being a bit arguably promiscuous, your neighbour was also a clueless member of the upper class that didn't know how much dry cleaning and thai takeaway cost. What he was doing in your apartment building was beyond you, but you could only hope you wouldn't run into him again.
Unfortunately that was not the last time you walked right into one of Gojo's breakups. The next time was at the elevator. You had been on your way back from some errands, waiting in the lobby for the elevator to take you and your heavy grocery filled bags up to the eleventh floor.
The doors had opened revealing a girl holding your neighbour by the collar of his shirt. On the tips of her toes to get as close to screaming in his face as she could with him being over a foot taller. His blue eyes landed on you over her head and seemed to light up instantly filling you with trepidation.
"Darling you're here. You should have called, why are you carrying all these heavy bags yourself?" Gojo asked, sidestepping the girl and smoothly swooping to take your bags from you as you stared at him in wide-eyed bewilderment.
"Who is that?" The girl asked, lovely delicate little features twisted into a sneer as she looked at you.
"My muse." Gojo answered dreamily, looking at you in such performative adoration that it gave you the chills.
"That's your muse?" The girl asked and you couldn't blame her. You weren't exactly the picture of a muse on your best day but today was errand day so you were really slumming it as you tried to get through your chores to enjoy your evening.
"Yes, this is my darling muse so I am unfortunately quite unavailable for a relationship as I will be devoting all my time to this beauty. I wish you all the best." Gojo said, wrapping his free arm around your waist and tugging you back onto the elevator. Making a big show of leaning down to nuzzle your head and it was all you could do not to grimace.
"You smell very good." He mumbled against your head as the elevator doors shut and you leaped away from him.
"Thank you, I shower." You responded, reaching out to grab your bags back from him as he huffed out a little laugh. Holding the bags out of reach making you glance up at him in annoyance.
Now you may not have been the typical image of a muse, but there was no denying you were cute. Big, pretty eyes narrowed at him. Swimming in your oversized sweater and letting out a huff of annoyance as you failed to retrieve your groceries. You had felt all soft against him too like you'd feel great to cuddle. Not to mention it was kind to let him use you for the second time to escape someone who got overly clingy.
"Have you eaten yet?" Gojo asked, he had initially been planning to eat with the girl who'd just left but then she'd started talking about how she was hoping to score the Givenchy ad and he had decided it was time to call it quits.
"No." You responded, looking confused as to why he would ask.
"Great, let me buy you dinner to show my gratitude for you saving me yet again."
"There's really no need. Both times I've just sort of stood there while you mislead some very pretty girls into believing you're taken, by me."
"You could have walked away but you didn't. I owe you, let me treat you to whatever you want. Or I can choose since you're new to the area." He said making you sigh.
"I've got leftovers, thanks though."
"Great, you can feed me." Gojo said, stalking off down the hall as the elevator doors opened leaving you staring after him in shock.
"It's not really enough for two since I wasn't expecting a guest." You said, hurrying after him.
"No worries, I eat like a bird." He responded, standing expectantly outside your door, still holding your grocery bags.
Gojo Satoru did not in fact eat like a bird, unless the bird in question was the dinosaur that birds were said to be descendants of. He ate most of the stew you had made yesterday and intended to freeze so you could get some more meals out of it. You'd even had to make more rice when he asked for another bowl after finishing his second helping.
You'd learned over your mostly one-sided conversation with him over dinner that he was a photographer. Quite a nit-picky one by the sounds of it since he claimed he only photographed people and things of interest to him. That had earned him a reputation in the industry as having a discerning eye for rising stars which was why a lot of models approached him.
Suddenly all the beautiful people constantly coming and going from his apartment made sense.
"I don't like being used though. I make it crystal clear from the start that I don't mix my personal life with my work but they always end up wanting me to either include them in my next work or wanting a referral. Some want a relationship but I don't really do those either." Gojo said, finding a bag of candy amongst the groceries you had yet to put away and pulling it out of the bag.
"Mind if I open this?" He asked and you shook your head. You had enough manners not to deny guests food in your house.
You watched him eat your candy thinking about what different lives you led. While you were just your average employed person trying to keep up with all the chores and dreaming about having savings, this man from a whole different world lived right next to you. A world in which beauty was so plentiful that it had to be accompanied by something else to make it interesting. Where he had no idea how much dry-cleaning cost and could invite himself over without the slightest fear of rejection.
"You come from a rich family don't you?" You asked unthinkingly, voice coloured with so much disdain and the question so unexpected when you had been mostly quiet that Gojo nearly choked on the candy he had just popped into his mouth. Barking out a loud laugh that startled you back into basic decency.
"Oh sorry, that wasn't very polite of me to ask. You don't have to answer that." You reassured but Gojo waved you off.
"Is it that obvious?" He asked with a grin and you gave a little nod, unable to lie so blatantly.
"My dad owns a popular clothing brand. He wanted me to take over the company and I just wanted to disappoint him, hence photography." Gojo said and you nodded as though that made any sense to you. Being handed down a successful brand but instead too caught up in rebellion to take the opportunity.
"I would have become a painter but I'm terrible at it. Photography comes a little easier to me." He said and you nodded, unsure how to respond to that.
"I can't remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal. You're a great cook." Gojo complimented, leaning back and placing a hand on his somehow still perfectly flat stomach. Sometimes you thought people like him defied the laws of nature. Simply too perfect for things like bloating or acne.
"Thanks." You muttered, trying your best at a smile despite the envious turn your thoughts had taken but it didn't seem like you quite succeeded when Gojo barked out another laugh, startling you.
"You really can't hide your emotions, can you?" He asked, grinning broadly at you. Blue eyes positively sparkling with mirth only making you feel more lackluster in comparison and desperate to get this otherworldly perfect creature out of your apartment.
"I've been told I'm not great at it." You responded.
"By who? A boyfriend?" He asked, the grin falling from his face into a little smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"No, my boss. She says I need to keep control of my expressions when I get difficult customers."
"That's strange, I didn't take you for someone who would be working with people."
"I didn't think I would be but I'm the most junior member of the library so I don't get to choose my station. If they want me at the front then I've gotta be there."
"You're a librarian?" He asked as though it was the best news he had ever heard and you could only nod in the face of such enthusiasm.
"So you like to read?"
"I do." You said and he nodded his head along in agreement.
"I used to like to read but don't much have the patience for it anymore. Bring a book for me sometime, anything you like. I want to get back into reading." He said and you nodded though you had no intention of ever giving Gojo a library book even if it wasn't under your account. You had a strong feeling that the library would never see that book again.
You failed to stifle a yawn and Gojo got to his feet, carrying his bowl over to the sink and rinsing it off before setting it inside.
"You seem tired, I'll head out."
You walked him out, dutifully following behind though it was your apartment. Gojo Satoru was just one of those people that could enter a space and make it seem like it belonged to them. He swung open the door but turned in the doorway making you stumble back a step since you had been expecting him to walk out.
"Your apartment is very well-furnished for someone who just moved in." He said and you had to suppress the urge to roll your eyes by pressing your lips together into a thin line, calling upon all your patience to end this impromptu dinner party.
"Next time you gotta let me buy you dinner to thank you for the meal and helping me out of a tight spot twice now."
You only nodded again, willing to assent to anything as long as it got him out of your apartment with all his sparkling splendor. Sure he would probably not recognize you by next week.
"Well nighty night neighbour." He said, sauntering over to his apartment and just pushing the door open. There was apparently no need to lock his door since clearly people like him were even above getting robbed, but that was your last straw. You shut your door and locked it immediately in case he decided to come back for any reason.
That night there were no noises and you slept peacefully. Hoping you would never have to be involved in a breakup that wasn't yours again.
However it seemed the universe was not aligned with that. The incident repeated itself over and over. Suddenly it was like a week couldn't go by without you walking in on one of his breakups. At the mailbox, at the emergency exit, in front of the elevator, then in front of the stairs when you decided to take those to avoid him.
Every time his blue eyes would light up when they laid on you. He'd tell the girl you were his girlfriend that had just decided to give him another chance taking him conveniently off the market. To his credit, though he let them yell and berate him as they wanted, but didn't take it sitting when any of them turned on you. Looming over them with the easy smile dropping from his face as he told them he thought it best they left.
Though that terrifying expression had never been levelled at you, it made you quite determined to never get on his bad side. Afterwards he would either offer to treat you to dinner, or as you soon learned would follow you to your apartment and eat your dinner if you refused. After the third time of watching him wolf down your food like he'd never been fed before, you stopped denying his offers to buy you a meal.
Each time he would talk non-stop and force you to talk too. Letting out those loud barks of laughter that you had come to associate with him even while in the midst of quiet restaurants. When people turned to look at the noise they'd seem to positively melt when they saw where the laugh had come from. Smiling along dopily as though it was incredibly sweet instead of disruptive just because of the way he looked.
Your sour expression would only serve to further amuse him. There was free food though, good food at that so you tolerated it. It was also only fair that you got compensated somehow for being used by him to get rid of the pretty models after him for one thing or another.
After a long week of work and a particularly bad Gojo breakup where the girl had burst into fits of tears and you had been forced to stand by while Gojo tried to console her and make her go away at the same time, you were quite looking forward to the weekend. So when a knock came at your door after you had changed into your pajamas, you were not eager to open it and instead sank lower onto your couch and held your breath so they would hopefully assume no one was home.
"I saw you come in, open up darling." You heard the now familiar voice say and you sighed, praying to any gods listening to move one of you before you rose to answer the door.
There stood Gojo Satoru in a pair of grey sweatpants and a black hoodie, holding two boxes of pizza and two pints of ice cream balanced overtop.
"Are you not even going to let her eat before you break up with her?" You asked, this was cruelty you couldn't simply stand by and allow to happen. If you were promised pizza and ice cream and instead someone broke up with you making you leave single and hungry you'd be devastated.
"Break up with who?" Gojo asked.
"The girl I'm guessing is either in your apartment or about to come over." You clarified.
"No silly, there's no girl. This is for us. I thought we'd watch a movie and eat pizza and ice cream. You're not working tomorrow right?" Gojo said, walking right past you into your apartment leaving you blinking at the empty space where he stood trying to process what was happening.
"Did you call her over to see us here?" You asked following him in and watching as he set the food down on your coffee table, plugging the ice cream into your freezer and getting out plates as though he were the one who lived here.
"Call who over? There's no girl as I told you. I just came over to hang out with my pal. You're not working tomorrow so I thought it would be okay if we stayed up late and watched movies." He said, in theory the words made sense but coming from your gorgeous, air-brushed in real life big-shot of a photographer neighbour they were practically gibberish.
"How do you know I'm not working tomorrow?" You asked, choosing to tackle the statement little by little as your third-grade teacher had taught you when faced with complex problems. She'd been talking about math word problems but you applied that wisdom liberally.
"You told me you work alternating Saturdays and you worked last Saturday which means you're not working this Saturday unless Jeanine hoodwinked you into covering her shift again. You swore last time though that would be the last time you switched with her so I'm choosing to have faith in you."
"So you're just here to eat pizza and watch movies?" You asked.
"And ice cream, don't forget about that." Gojo chimed, walking past you to take a seat on your couch and turning on the TV.
"Mind if I choose the movie? I've been wanting to watch this one. Everyone says it's terrible." Gojo said and you could only mumble out a yes.
"Come sit." He said, patting the spot next to him and you followed his orders. Fully expecting a gorgeous young woman to throw your door open any moment, storming in and calling you a home-wrecking good for nothing curse word. It took you robotically nibbling on 3 slices and only making faint humming noises as Gojo talked incessantly over the movie before it sank in that Gojo Satoru really had come over just to watch a movie with you.
Why he chose to hangout with you on a Friday night was beyond you but you weren't rude enough to ask him to leave and he had brought over pizza and excellent ice cream. Though you did have to slap his hand away more than once when he tried to sneak his spoon into yours to steal your cookie dough pieces.
When you were both done he shivered at the cold ice cream and demanded a blanket which once brought to him he rudely curled into all by himself and then plunked his head down into your lap. You froze looking down at him. He had on occasion put an arm around your shoulder or waist or held your hand as he fake-professed his undying love for you before the women he was breaking up with but he'd never touched you when you were both alone.
It wasn't really inappropriate but there was an odd intimacy to the act of resting your head on someone's lap that had taken you aback. You guessed he was just used to being overly familiar with people in his line of work.
Of course not only was he inconsiderate to hog your blanket and use your thighs as a head rest, but he also had the audacity to fall asleep on you as the sequel of the terrible movie he'd chosen played out on the screen with the remote out of your reach.
You sighed, wondering if you should just push him off but your good manners and fear of his wrath kept you from doing so. Once the movie was over and the credits began to play and you really needed to get to the remote you tried shifting his head but he only turned over to face you. Wrapping an arm around your waist and digging his face into your stomach. Effectively rendering you incapable of moving him or yourself.
You sighed, resolved to never answer the door again regardless of who was knocking as you sat through the third movie in this series that never should have been created.
You were almost asleep yourself, head lolling and each time you'd be on the brink of sleep you'd be woken by the motion of your head falling forwards. On one such occasion you jolted out of sleep just as a terrible sound echoed out of the TV making you jump and waking the member of the bourgeoise asleep on top of you.
He rose with a low groan, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and stretching out his arms making the muscles flex and revealing a pale strip on his toned, muscled torso making you wish you had pushed him off of you when you had the chance. Blue eyes opening slowly and a slow smile blooming on his lips as they laid on you.
"You're so comfortable." He muttered, positively latching onto you as though you were a stuffed animal.
You pushed at his rock-solid shoulder, trying to get him off of you but he sleepily bargained for five more minutes and rested his head over yours. Near smothering you in his overly large pecs making you grimace.
"Off now." You demanded and he pulled back with a pout, expression turning sheepish as you got unsteadily to your feet and glared at him when your legs felt like they had pins and needles going down them.
"You sleep like the dead." You muttered, smacking your fists into your legs to rid them of the odd feeling.
"I usually have a lot of trouble sleeping. I can't remember the last time I had a nap." He said and you scoffed making him looking at you with an innocent puzzled expression which combined with his sleep rumpled hair and clothes made you feel a bit like a sardonic old hag.
"You really expect me to believe you don't sleep well when you're constantly that fresh-faced and don't even have to seem under-eyes?"
"Good genetics I guess." He responded making your lip curl in hatred. You could sleep ten hours a night and still have bags from the sleep deficit you had accumulated while getting your undergrad. He breathed out a soft laugh, apparently a little less brash and loud when he had just woken up.
"You should go home and go to sleep, it's late." You said.
"Can't I sleepover?" He asked, widening his eyes in a surprisingly effective puppy-dog look for a man that was well over 6 feet and built with pure muscle.
"You live next door, your room is almost just as close as mine is. Why on earth would you sleepover?"
"Then you sleepover." He said, laughing when he caught the grossed out look on your face as you were all too aware of the things that happened on the surfaces of his apartment.
"I change my sheets regularly." He said.
"No one needs to sleepover, we live next door to each other. Movie night is over, back to your apartment with you." You said, motioning him out the way you imagined sheep were herded though you had little idea of how that was done and clearly you were not good at it considering the 6 foot sheep before you was decidedly un-herded.
"But I slept so well with you." He complained.
You merely motioned to the door again and he sighed, getting up to his feet. He was nearly all the way out when he suddenly turned back.
"Wait, what if I promise to buy you breakfast?" He asked.
"I cannot be persuaded with food to let you sleepover." You said, watching his shoulders slump and he turned back to head out. Giving you the puppy eyes until the moment you shut the door on him in the hopes he would be let back in.
Unfortunately that too became a regular occurrence. On Friday or Saturday, depending on whether you were working that Saturday or not, he'd bring over some form of takeout, two pints of ice cream and want to watch some horrible movie. He'd talk over the entire thing while you both ate, try to steal from your pint of ice cream and then eventually fall asleep with at least one limb on you in some way.
The breakups became more infrequent as did the noises until they stopped altogether. Soon he was showing up on other weekdays too with takeout or hurrying after you into the elevator in the morning just to tell you to cook for two in the evening since he'd be joining you.
You didn't understand why someone like him was spending so much time with you. Annoying as he was due to his impossible physical perfection, lack of understanding of how to be economical due to his being born into the upper-class, and the audacity he showed just constantly inviting himself in, he grew on you. He was admittedly fun to be around.
Things would have continued like that for god knows how long had it not been for the book club the library had forced you to lead. It was to attract more patrons to the library and since none of the other librarians wanted to lead a club taking place on Friday evenings, you were forced into it.
The group that turned up for the first one was the most mismatched group of people you had ever seen. An elderly woman who often told stories of her grandkids that lived in another country where her son had moved his family for a job. Two very giggly teenage girls who seemed as though they were laughing at everyone at first but eventually you realized were just giggling to cover up their own nerves. A middle aged man who seemed like he just did not wish to go home to his family. An accountant that was trying to branch out her reading materials from non-fiction finance related books. And lastly a young man that was new to the country and trying to learn the language through books and tv shows.
The club met weekly and though the first couple meetings were very rough with you struggling to lead and steer the conversation, eventually you all settled into a rhythm. The elderly woman related every topic to her son's family somehow, the teenage girls giggled at all delicate topics, the middle aged man rarely spoke but listened avidly and the accountant was highly opinionated on fictional characters and events. The foreign young man tried his best to contribute to the conversation and you all helped him along while he looked for his words.
Soon you even began looking forward to book club. Gojo wasn't a fan of it, it meant you were always busy on Fridays. He looked forward to unwinding with you after a long work week where no one could really inspire him. His thoughts on your bright eyes, transparent expressions and begrudging honest comments even as he worked with the most beautiful people and obscenely expensive items.
To hear you rave about these other people bothered him in a way he hadn't thought possible. He had never been the jealous type. Not eager to get into a relationship, he didn't mind when the people he slept with dated or fucked others. For some reason though with you even the thought of others getting to look into those pretty eyes or hear those sarcastic little quips you made had his stomach turning and skin crawling.
He hated how emotionally invested you seemed to be in each and every one of them. So sad for the old lady who missed her grandkids, sympathetic towards the teen girls struggling to become comfortable in their own skin. Understanding for the man who seemed to have built a life based on societal expectations that he wasn't built for and in awe of the accountant's unexpected passion. Inspired by the foreign young man's courage to uproot his whole life and move to a new place.
So many emotions he hadn't been able to inspire in you yet you made him feel things he hadn't even thought possible. Hadn't known how much he longed for the comfort and stability you represented. The calm of your easy, ordinary life. How much joy could be found in just regular activities like sharing a meal or watching a movie. The fire of jealousy that could threaten to burn through all of his being and spread to the world around him when you turned your gaze elsewhere.
"Have you told them about me?" He asked suddenly, cutting you off mid-sentence as you talked about how excited you were for them all to read the next book.
"Tell them about you? Why would I tell them about my neighbour?" You asked, confused where that question had come from. Not understanding why the bright blue of Gojo's eyes seemed to turn to steel. All warmth and light draining from them until they reminded you of the chilling endless depths of the ocean.
"I'm not just your neighbour, am I?" Gojo asked, plastering a grin back on his face that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"No, loathe as I am to admit it, I guess we are friends." You said, hoping the teasing would diffuse the sudden tension you felt in the room.
"Friends." He repeated as though testing out the word.
"Doesn't quite seem like enough." He mused after a moment.
Your brows furrowed and you used the palms you had resting down next to your folded legs to shuffle away from him slightly. His eyes flickering down to the movement making you pause. Of course you were just being silly, you had to be misinterpreting where this was heading. People like Gojo didn't think of people like you romantically. He could have models and celebrities. He couldn't possibly be into you in that way.
"Okay what would you call me then?" You asked, hoping fervently this was all one of his stupid jokes and he would say something rude and start laughing.
"Mine. I'd call you mine." Gojo responded, blue eyes taking in the frown on your face and realizing how ignorant you were to what was between the both of you. Sweet, innocent you that didn't even realize how special what the both of you had was. Gojo would have to show you.
"I don't know if things are different in the rich people world but for us regular people you can't own anyone and saying someone is yours usually implies you're in a relationship."
You didn't wait for his response, reaching for your glass, about to use getting a refill as an excuse to walk away but he latched onto your outstretched wrist. Your breath getting caught in a gasp as he pulled you into him.
"I know what it means darling. You belong to me, just as I belong to you. There's no one I've ever felt so comfortable with, no one whose felt like home before. I know you feel it too, no one has ever made you feel this way, have they?" He asked, hand coming up to cup your cheek. Stilling as you flinched away from the touch.
"I think you're mistaking friendship for something else Gojo." You started, words tumbling out as you struggled to make sense of the situation.
"You're rich and famous so people around you are probably constantly putting up a facade and you're not used to regular friendship. You're just confused." You said, sounding like you were trying to convince yourself more than him.
His hand trailed to the back of your head, angling your face up and lips crashing down on yours before you could understand what was happening. Your froze, your brain unable to compute how a friendly movie night had gone from discussing your work week to this.
His soft lips moved gently against yours, trying to coax you into kissing him back. Tongue darting out to lick over your unresponsive lips and a groan escaping him as he finally got a taste of the mouth he'd been fantasizing of for so long. The sound knocking you out of your shocked state and you pushed against his chest. The unexpected move forcing him to break apart but he instantly leaned down again making you call his name sharply.
Blue eyes flicked up from your lips to meet your gaze. Straightening up at the confusion and outrage he saw. No one had ever reacted to him like that before. Normally others came onto him and yet here you were seemingly very offended by him kissing you.
"You can't just kiss someone out of nowhere." You muttered, wiping at your mouth with your sleeve.
"I'll give you a warning next time, I'm going to kiss you again." He said, swooping back towards your lips but you cupped your hand over his mouth. Pretty eyes widening in surprise and your shoulders tensed up as though bracing yourself against an attack.
He frowned for a moment before his entire body melted as he realized what was going on, it was lack of experience. Shy, innocent you probably weren't used to physical affection the way he was. You'd never mentioned an ex, this was all new for you. He had to take it slow to avoid scaring you off. He pressed a kiss to the hand over your mouth, laughing breathily as you pulled away instantly.
"You can't kiss me." You warned, taking in a slow deep breath. Your shoulders slumping as you let it out and you swallowed nervously as though about to share some terrible news. A product of nerves he was sure, to someone inexperienced even a confession could be a frightening thing.
"I'm sorry Gojo, I don't really see you that way. I thought we were friends but if I've misled you in some way then I apologize. I don't really sleep around." You said.
"Oh darling is that what you think this is? I don't just want to sleep with you, I love you. I want to be with you always." Gojo said making your stomach fall.
"I don't understand." You mumbled. He had never given you any indication that he had romantic feelings for you. As far as you knew he wasn't capable of romantic feelings. All he did was sleep around and then kick them to the curb if they got clingy.
"Are you saying all of this to get me to sleep with you?" You asked and he shook his head immediately.
"How many times do I have to say it darling? I'm not just looking to sleep with you. Though I won't lie, I do want to but it's not just that. I want to be in a relationship with you." He clarified and try as you might even you couldn't interpret that to be anything but what he had said.
"Oh." You mumbled.
"Oh." He repeated with a laugh, cupping your face in his hands and leaning in as though about to kiss you again but you held your hand up between you again. Pulling back out of his hold making his smile drop a bit.
"Too fast?" He asked and you shook your head unthinkingly before nodding it, trying to find the right words so you wouldn't come across as cruel. You hadn't been lying, Gojo had become a friend to you. One whose feelings you didn't want to hurt.
"Gojo I've never really seen you that way and I'm not looking for a relationship so please don't take this the wrong way but I can't return your feelings. I'm so sorry." You said softly, watching as his smile dropped away entirely. Something unreadable in those eyes when you mustered up the courage to look into them, dropping your gaze again immediately.
"I get it, that's okay. We can be friends if that's all you can give for now. Once you're ready we can try for more." He said and though that hadn't really been what you meant you really didn't have the heart to shoot him down again.
"Sh-should I get out the ice cream now?" You asked, eager to change the topic and pretend that whole conversation had never happened.
"Sure." He answered, lips tipping up into a smile though his eyes still had that indecipherable look to them that filled you with the odd urge to get away.
The rest of the night was filled with an odd tension that had your chest filling with relief when Gojo finally bid you goodnight, as guilty as that made you feel. You worried that things between the two of you would never be the same and prepared yourself for the awkwardness that was sure to follow.
It was as though all he needed was to sleep off that conversation. From the next day everything returned back to normal between the both of you as though the confession and kiss had never happened. Though you sometimes felt like you'd see a flash of something akin to hunger in his eyes when he looked at you but he'd blink and it would be gone making you think you were only imagining things.
You couldn't help the way you got a little self conscious now when he rested his head on your lap or strung his arm over your waist while laying sprawled on your couch during a movie night. Before you hadn't thought much of it but refused to say anything because that would mean bringing up that whole conversation you wanted to leave buried in the past. It was just Gojo being Gojo you tried to convince yourself.
As you would soon learn you shouldn't have allowed him continued access to you after learning of his true feelings. Had you known then you would have been firmer in your rejection, leaving no false hope that would ultimately be your ruin.
The book club and its members became an engrained part of your routine. Adding more people to your isolated little world. Meetings that you looked forward to weekly as you became even more familiar with each of the members and you all opened up to one another. Sharing things about your lives and even sometimes planning to grab a bite after the book club meeting. You'd take a late lunch those days and glad to see the community initiative a success, your boss let you.
When the young man started turning up at the library outside of book club to borrow books, you were all too willing to recommend similar books to his favourites from the meetings. Finding some upon his request that would help him improve his language skills as well. He'd come up to you periodically to ask the pronunciation or meaning of words he didn't know which in the age of the internet others might have considered a hint but not you.
It caught you off guard when he asked you out to coffee, alone without the rest of the book club as he'd clarified. There was something about him that you had always found charming and so you agreed.
He asked you to meet at some fancy little coffee shop just a couple streets down from the library you'd never been to before. Looking so pleased when you showed up that you couldn't help but return his smile. Setting your first date nerves at ease by talking about the club's book of the week and then sounding genuinely interested as he asked you questions about your life, boring as it was.
When you heard your name called you turned around with a smile still on your lips from the lingering laughter at an off-handed comment your date had made at your boss' expense but it fell immediately as your eyes connected with a blue pair alight with fury. Flinching back as he stormed over to you, eyes flickering from you to where your date had rested his hand on top of yours. You pulled yours back like you had been burned. Glancing over at the gorgeous young woman who stood next to him, clearly another model who was busy scrolling on her phone and didn't pay the three of you any mind.
"What are you doing here darling?" Gojo asked and you looked at your date quickly who was looking very confusedly between Gojo and you.
"How do you two know each other?" Your date asked.
"He's my neighbour." You clarified quickly, knowing he had probably misunderstood the term of endearment Gojo liked to throw around with you.
"I think we're much more than that, aren't we darling?" Gojo asked, eyes daring you to contradict him.
"W-we're also friends." You explained.
"Now back to my question, what are you crazy kids doing here?"
"We are on - uh how do you say" Your date started, struggling to find the word and for the first time you made no attempt to help him.
"Date!" He exclaimed suddenly and you felt like your stomach had fallen out as you risked a glance up at Gojo to see the polite smile had fallen and he looked positively livid. Blue eyes blazing with outrage turned to you accusingly, jaw clenched so tightly it looked painful and veins beneath his flawless pale skin standing out prominently.
"How lovely, ready to date now are you?" Gojo asked and you shook your head instantly.
"I hate to be rude but you'll have to excuse us. Our apartment building is on fire so my neighbour here and I have to go." Gojo said, stooping down and snatching your wrist. Pulling you up to your feet and dropping the strap of your bag onto your shoulder. Completely ignoring the confused outbursts of both your date and the model that had accompanied him as he dragged you out of the cafe.
"I'm so sorry, I'll see you on Friday." You called out to your date not wanting to make a scene here. Getting yanked forward again and nearly tripping but managing to straighten and catch yourself.
Gojo herded you past the door, leading you to his sleek back car parked right outside the cafe and pushing you down into it the moment he got the door open.
"Gojo you had no right-" You started but were cut off as he swooped down so you were both face to face.
"Don't you say even a single fucking word right now or I may just go back in there and break every finger on that fucker's hand for touching what's mine."
"What?" You asked taken aback by the sudden aggression.
"I don't think I ever mentioned this but I really fucking hate being lied to and I've got a bit of a temper problem so it's in your best interest to let me drive off or your date is going to be the one suffering my wrath."
You shut your mouth instantly, something about his expression telling you that he wasn't bluffing and you didn't want your poor date to be hurt because of you. He finally slammed the door shut making you jump and rounded to the other side, getting in and reaching for you. You couldn't help the way you flinched back making him let out a slow exhale through his nose as he grabbed your seatbelt and clicked it into the buckle.
"I may have a temper but I'd never hurt you." He said solemnly, turning his gaze forward as he pulled out into the street, narrowly avoiding crashing into a car in that lane but you didn't dare say a word. The car filled with a suffocating tension for the short drive to your building.
The moment he parked you got out, walking ahead and hearing him follow you closely. Incredibly grateful for a young mother who got into the same elevator as the both of you with her two children so you weren't alone. Making up your mind then that you didn't want to discuss any of this with him right now.
His anger and threat had frightened you and you were in no rush to be alone with him while he was like this, it was probably best to let him cool off first. He was way out of left field for what he had done but you didn't think you'd be able to tell him that right now.
When you got off on your floor you walked to your apartment. Subtly finding your key in your bag, you turned to face him.
"Gojo I think you should take some time to cool off, we'll talk about this later." You said, turning back to unlock your door but before you could even put your key into the lock you were being turned back and lifted.
He held you up over his shoulder like you were a sack of potatoes as he passed your door to his own. Completely ignoring your cries for him to put you down as he unlocked his door and slammed it shut with a kick as he walked in. Depositing you down onto an armchair and instantly caging you in by placing a hand on either side.
"Now why don't you start by telling me why you were on a date with that fucker when you told me you weren't ready for a relationship."
"I really don't think I owe you anything after the way you've acted." You said, tugging down your clothing so it was all in place after being tossed about like an object.
"I held back, I didn't even say anything to that bastard for you. I went back to being your friend because you said you weren't ready for more and now I catch you out on a date with some asshole. It's my fault for trying to be so patient and understanding. I should have made it clear that you belong to me from the start to avoid all this confusion."
"I don't belong to anyone. I was trying to turn you down kindly, it's not my fault you misunderstood. No means no regardless of the reasoning someone provides. I don't see you that way and frankly after this I don't even see you as a friend." You stated firmly, breathing a little accelerated from how angry you were at the audacity he had shown. Forcefully taking you from your date and manhandling you, telling you that you belonged to him.
"See darling, now that's where you're mistaken." He said, lips twisting into a cruel smile, lifting his hand to trail his fingers gently along your bottom lip. Catching your jaw in his grasp as you angrily tried to turn your head away from his touch and leaning in until his nose nearly touched yours. Breath wafting over your lips as he greedily inhaled the air you exhaled.
"You are mine. If I ever see another man laying a hand on what is mine I will break every bone in his hand as you watch. It's a good thing you don't see me as a friend anymore, since you're ready to date I should be much more than that."
"You're nothing to me." You snarled, pushing at his touch but he caught your hand in his.
"Is this the hand he touched?" Gojo asked, wrapping his own around your hand as though trying to erase the evidence of anyone else's touch from your skin.
Your hand trembled in his, only now noticing how much freakishly larger his was compared to your own. The threats of breaking hands all too fresh for you to be comfortable with him holding yours.
"Where else has that fucker touched you?" Gojo asked.
"Get off of me before I scream." You threatened, voice wavering slightly even as you tried to keep it steady.
"Darling I think you know it's not uncommon for anyone to hear screams coming from this apartment, and other than you no one's ever been bothered by it so go ahead, scream for me." He said making you gulp.
"HELP." You screamed out, his hand coming up to trail across your lips again as he shushed you.
"See? No one's coming. Most of these apartments are soundproofed except that one wall adjoining our two apartments which they seem to have missed. No one can hear you." He said and for the first time you felt truly afraid of him. Realizing that you were trapped in his apartment with him while he was so much faster and larger than you.
"Tell me darling, did you let him kiss you?" He asked, brushing his thumb back and forth over your bottom lip forcing your lips to part.
"Gojo get off of me, you're taking this too far." You warned.
"I will if you answer my question."
"No." You mumbled honestly and he breathed out a sigh of relief, true to his word backing up and getting up on his feet but still standing over you.
"Good, you can't go letting other guys touch you when you're mine. I'll let what happened today go as a misunderstanding because I hadn't spelled things out for you and you can be so oblivious, but if I ever catch him or any other guy lurking near you again, I will kill them."
You stared up at him with wide eyes, feeling truly afraid of the man you'd considered a friend for the first time in your life. Heart pounding in your chest as your eyes darted over his shoulder to the door that seemed all too far away with his giant figure looming over you.
"Tell me you understand darling." He instructed and you gave a quick nod of your head.
The rage melted away from his face and all tenseness seemed to drain out of his body. He leaned down, pecking your lips quickly. Smiling as he pulled away.
"Should I make us something or should we order in?" He asked.
"I'm not hungry, I should go." You said, pushing up from the armchair but pinned in place when he narrowed those otherworldly blue eyes down at you.
"You're not trying to run away, are you? I really do want to believe you meant what you said about being mine but if you leave like this I'll have no choice but to assume it was just to get away."
"No I-I just have some stuff to do around the house." You said.
"Well surely you can spare some time to eat lunch."
"I already ate." You said, regretting the words the moment they were out of your mouth when you saw his jaw clench and nostrils flare.
"Yeah? How long exactly was this date of yours?" He asked, leaning down and resting his hand on the arm of your chair again.
"I had a sandwich before I went out." You said quickly.
It was the truth, the coffee date was at lunch time so you'd had a quick bite beforehand. Truthfully though it was half a sandwich leftover from your lunch the day before but Gojo didn't need to know that. After all that had happened your appetite was gone anyway.
"Oh you do make good sandwiches." He said with a little laugh of relief and you wondered how you had spent all that time with him and not noticed that he was absolutely insane.
"S-sorry I didn't think we would be meeting today or I would have made you one too." You said, eager to pretend everything was normal if that increased your chances at getting out of here.
"Always so sweet." He muttered, leaning down and pressing another kiss to your lips.
"What a lucky guy I am." He said softly, trailing the back of his hand reverently along your jaw. Noticing the way your breath hitched and allowing himself to believe it was just you being shy.
"Fuck I'm sorry, I know you're new to this and I need to take it slow but you are so fucking tempting. I could just eat you up." He said, hands squeezing at your waist making you let out an unwilling squeal.
"Gojo I really do-"You started but were cutoff by him.
"It's Satoru to you darling, we're dating now. You should call me by my first name." He said and you stared at him blankly a moment before giving a short nod.
"Right, well I should go." You tried again.
"Not until I hear you say my name."
"Satoru I need to go." You said, cutting yourself short when he groaned and dropped his head down onto your shoulder.
"My name sounds so good coming from you. Call me Toru." He demanded, lifting his head to see the affronted look on your face at him going back on his word so easily.
"Come on, just say it once and then I promise you can go."
"Toru." You said hesitantly and he dropped his head down so you couldn't see his face.
"Fuck." He muttered quietly and it was all the warning you got before he was pouncing on you. One hand wrapping around the back of your neck and other on your waist as he pulled you up into him. Lips crashing down onto yours and taking your gasp of surprise as an opportunity to drive his tongue into your mouth. Kissing you fiercely with his hands grabbing and groping at any soft flesh within reach as he pulled you in closer.
Your hands flailed a moment before you got your wits together and started pushing at his broad shoulders, protests muffled by his mouth. He pulled back only giving you enough time to drag in a much needed breath before he was on you again. The new angle allowing him to kiss you much deeper, a deep moan rumbling up from his chest at the taste and feel of you under him. Crowding you up on that armchair until you had nowhere to go by resting his knee down on the seat between your legs.
"Gojo!" You screamed when he pulled back just a fraction again.
Slamming your hands against his chest and he paused, staring down at you as both of you panted. Your lips glistening with your combined saliva from the messy kiss you had just shared.
He didn't think he had ever wanted anything more than he wanted you in that moment. He physically ached for you, painfully hard cock that was throbbing in need pressing up against the zip of his pants. Hands yearning to feel all your soft, pliant flesh beneath his palms and mouth salivating to taste every inch of you.
"You said you would take it slow, you promised to let me leave." You said while still panting for air. For a moment there you had really felt like he was going to devour you.
No one had ever kissed you like that before. His passion was all consuming and frightening. You never wanted to experience something like that again.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He said, hands flexing against the head of the armchair as he fought to regain control and force himself away from you. It took every ounce of will power he possessed and the mental reminder that you deserved for things to be taken slow with you. To be courted and wooed before he would finally get to have you. A little patience and then he would have you for life because he was never letting you go.
The moment he eased back you flew up to your feet. Grabbing your bag and holding it protectively against your chest as though that would really act as some sort of deterrent if he came onto you again. Your wrist was caught as you moved past him and you glanced back with big frightened eyes making his grasp soften.
"I'll see you tomorrow?" He asked and you forced yourself to nod. Anything to be let out of that apartment in that moment.
"Okay." He said and you gave a little tug at your wrist when he didn't let you go.
"God, I don't want to let you go but I did promise. Go now before I lose the willpower to let you leave this apartment." He said and you pulled your wrist forcefully out of his loose hold, scampering for the door.
Breaking his heart a little when you didn't even look back once as you slammed the door shut behind you but what did those little things matter when you were finally his. No last parting looks were necessary since you were going to be together forever now. It was only a matter of time before he would bring up living together and then he'd never have to let you go back to your apartment.
The moment you got back to your apartment you locked the door. Doing up the chain lock too though despite it you still felt hunted. You had this unshakable feeling that he was going to come after you and you needed to put as much obstacles in his path as you could. Like he would snatch you up even while you were behind the locked door of your apartment. The man you had considered a friend now just a monster out to get you.
The tears came then as you sank down against your door. A lump forming in your throat and eyes burning as you swiped the back of your hand over your mouth. Trying to erase his touch.
You weren't under any delusions that there was some easy way out of this. No one in their right mind would believe someone like Gojo Satoru had forced himself on you, dragged you to his apartment unwillingly and kept you there until you agreed to be his partner. There was no proof to go to the police with.
It wasn't necessarily that you wanted him punished, it was more that you wanted nothing to do with him. Cowardly as it was, all you wanted was to never have to see him again, to be free of him. The monster you had unknowingly invited in.
You rested your head in your hands as you let the tears escape. Biting into your sleeve to muffle your sobs so he wouldn't hear through that dreaded adjoining wall and come to investigate.
When your chest started to feel just the tiniest bit lighter, you wiped your tears and rose to your feet. There was no use in sitting there crying. You'd never be rid of him if you didn't do something. You had to move away. Luckily, you were only renting the apartment so all you would lose was the security deposit for not giving enough notice.
You were so desperate you wouldn't even be picky. First apartment you found within your budget you'd sign the agreement. It shouldn't take longer than a week or two and then you'd never have to see him again. Never have those unnerving blue eyes on you or feel those giant hands that pinned you so easily.
Sleep evaded you and instead you used the time to look into apartments. There was a branch of your library located on the other side of the city, but that felt too obvious. You would have to quit and survive for a bit on your meager savings until you found another job.
You'd call in sick for your next shift and go see those apartments, get a storage room to start slowly moving out your stuff without Gojo noticing. Despite how drastic it was, all of that was simple enough but the idea of having to put up an act in front of Gojo for the meantime was what scared you. If you wanted your plan to work, you would have to keep him from suspecting you.
Those two weeks passed with extreme difficulty. It felt like all your hair would fall out from the stress of it all. Moving your entire life in a matter of weeks was not easy but pretending you were willing to be with Gojo was the hardest part. Forcing yourself not to flinch when he reached for you, to not look away from the obsession you now saw gleaming in the depths of his eyes. To nod and listen and respond at appropriate intervals even when your mind was miles away.
It was a lucky thing that he was suddenly so busy with work. Unable to spend nearly as much time as he would have liked with you. If you were forced to be around him constantly then surely you would have given yourself away.
Gojo had never been happier. It was like he had merely been surviving before you came into his life and showed him what true contentedness and meaning were. Filled his life with purpose and joy. He didn't need to find momentary entertainment in beautiful faces or disappointing his dad anymore. Now that he had you, he would never want for anything else again.
He was reminded every time he saw you head for work though that he wasn't the only one who noticed how lovely and incredible you were. The thought of that bastard speaking to you again filled him with unbridled rage but he knew you loved your job at the library so he couldn't ask you to quit. Getting the man's study permit cancelled was easy enough though when he used his dad's contacts.
Hearing he was active in their circles again had his dad reaching out. This time he allowed the man to talk him into coming to work for him with one little condition that his father was all too willing to oblige if it meant the return of his heir. Everything Gojo did was for you and to be with you, you'd come to realize it soon enough.
Working for his dad and learning the ropes of taking over the business was busy work and it left him little time to spend with you. He used any chance he got to be with his beloved. Getting to hold you and talk to you, look into those pretty eyes and kiss those sweet lips was pure bliss. Even if resisting the temptation to do more was akin to torture, he'd wait for his darling.
He couldn't even have anticipated how sneaky you would be. How you could lie to his face for weeks. Disappear without a word as though you hadn't promised you were his. Leave him knocking on the door of an empty apartment like a fool.
He'd broken down the door when he tried calling you and your number was unavailable. Heart sinking when the wood gave to his strength and the apartment that had come to feel more like home than any place he'd ever lived in was just reduced to bare walls with no trace of you left.
He'd ignored the stricken looks of the other people who lived on your floor as he raced for the elevator. The world just a blur as he ran like a madman through the streets towards your library. Only to be told by a confused looking librarian that you didn't work there anymore.
The middle-aged woman's eyes widening as he began to laugh in the middle of the silent library. Laughing so hard he doubled over and nearly choked. Wiping tears from manic blue eyes as he straightened with a smile that was anything but amused before driving a fist straight through the front desk.
The woman ran to the back then and the kids recording him nervously lowered their phones. Those videos would be forcefully deleted by men people like his father kept around just for damage control. The library generously reimbursed to hand over the camera feed from that afternoon and the librarian warned to keep her mouth shut unless she wanted to be fired.
Gojo couldn't believe you would betray him like that. All he had ever done was love and adore you. All he had asked for in return for that blind adoration and devotion was for you to be his. He would lay the world at your feet as long as you simply returned home to him every night.
He hadn't even pressured you to love him, knowing you were oblivious and new to all of this so it would take you time to figure out your feelings. It would all be so much sweeter if you arrived at that conclusion yourself and confessed to him of your own volition. But you had taken all that trust and patience and thrown it in his face.
He felt like he couldn't breathe. Like the very air had turned to poison without you. He needed you back. It didn't matter that you had betrayed him, turned your back on him. Life wasn't just meaningless without you, it was unbearable.
He would make you realize you loved him, make you loyal to him and tie you irreversibly to himself as his very being was tied to you. He just needed to find you.
It wasn't hard but every moment without you felt like an agonizing eternity. He didn't eat, didn't sleep until he had figured out where you had gone. It took only a matter of days but in the span of those few days Gojo became unrecognizable. As though the madness within couldn't be contained any longer and had begun to show itself.
For men like him, it wasn't difficult to track someone down. He scoured the city while private investigators he had hired followed the trail left behind by your digital footprint.
He watched in his car, heart swelling with relief and air feeling like it entered his lungs for the first time in days as he watched you unlock the bookstore where you'd gotten a job. The large glass windows allowing him to see all the smiles you carelessly bestowed on all those who came in the shop but had snatched from him. Fingernails tearing into the skin of his palms until they were bloody as he clenched his fists to keep himself grounded and not barge into the store in broad daylight and carry you off.
He waited all day until you flipped that open sign to closed and locked the door. Moving around inside as you put the bookstore back into order for the next day before grabbing your coat and bag. Night had fallen by then and as you moved to the door he saw his chance.
You twisted the key until you heard the mechanism of the lock twist into place. A faint whisper of your name making you turn thinking it was the owner coming to check in on the store. The sight that awaited you however was all your nightmares for the past couple weeks come to life.
Blue eyes ablaze with mania and lips forming your name were all you saw before you felt a prick at the side of your neck and everything went out of focus. Large hands greedily clutching your slumping body and the nauseous feeling of the ground being swiped out from under you the last thing you felt before it all went dark.
The sound of crashing waves was the first thing you became aware of. The smell of the ocean in the air as your eyes opened blearily to a completely unfamiliar room. Your brain jolted itself to full consciousness as the unfamiliarity of your surroundings registered. The next thing you noticed was the cold weight of something around your ankle.
You glanced down and your heart skipped a beat as you saw the shackle gleaming in the light let in by the large windows clasped above your foot. The long chain connected to it rattled as you darted up and tried tugging at the metal even as your head throbbed and vision swam making you see double of everything.
"Are you finally awake darling?” The voice you had hoped you’d never hear again called from the door.
You glanced up to see his silhouette in the shadows just beyond the doorway to the room you were in. Gleaming blue eyes fixed on you through the darkness.
Your heart skipped a beat in your chest and you wanted so badly for this all to be a nightmare but were frozen, unable to so much as pinch yourself to figure out if this horrific sight was a reality. He stepped forward into the light let in by the giant windows, steps steadily decreasing the distance between you both but even as the urge to flee set alight your nerves you remained immobile.
The feeling of his large warm fingers beneath your chin as he tilted your head up finally knocked you out of your trance. You jerked away from him violently, scampering across the large bed but your ankle was caught and you were tugged back towards him. His hand curling around your leg as definitively as the shackle that bound you there just below it.
“Now where do you think you’re going?” He asked.
Other hand grabbing onto the back of your neck and forcing your head back to make you look at him. Caught firmly in his grasp. Those pretty eyes on him as he had longed for them to be and they'd never lay on another again.
Your heart hammered in your chest as you waited for him to fill the terse silence interrupted only by the crashing of the waves outside. His eyes darting around every inch of your face like he wanted to commit it all to memory.
Only he knew how he had survived those days without you, not knowing where you were or even if he would ever see you again. But now he had ensured that would never happen again.
“G-Gojo where are we?” You asked when he refused to speak first, too preoccupied looking his fill of you.
“We’re home darling.” He answered simply, brushing your hair out of your face. Fingers leaving trails of heat across your skin.
“C-can you please get this off me? It hurts.” You said glancing down at the metal cuff.
“I doubt it hurts. I made sure it was a little loose so it wouldn’t press into your skin. Look, I can even get my fingers in.” He said, tucking his fingers into the narrow gap between the unforgiving metal and your soft skin, making it tighten and you let out a hiss as it dug in painfully.
“Oh did that hurt?” He asked, carefully pulling out his fingers and you nodded. Gasping when he suddenly grabbed you by the shoulders and hauled you in close so you were face to face.
“Can you imagine how much it hurt me when I realized what you had done?” He asked, voice raising despite telling himself he was going to keep his cool. You flinched back but his firm hold on you didn’t let you get far.
“Can you imagine how I felt when I woke one morning to see your apartment was empty and you were gone?”
Your heart pounded in your chest as you prayed fervently, despite knowing now it wasn’t, that this would all be a dream. You’d wake up any minute now to your new apartment with the boxes still piled high in the corner waiting to be unpacked. Reach for the water you kept on your bedside drawer before realizing in this apartment the drawer was on the other side of the bed.
“Can you imagine the pain of knowing the only one you’ve ever loved, the one you put above all else lied to you and betrayed you? Pretended to be yours when they’d been scheming to leave you all along?”
The fury in his eyes dimmed slightly as they filled with tears, his grip slackening on your shoulders letting you slump back down on the bed.
"I-I was scared Gojo." You said.
"Scared of what?" He bit out, swiping angrily at the tears in his eyes with the back of his hand making the pale skin redden. For a moment your fear was forgotten and all you could see was your friend in pain but those blue eyes flashed when he saw the tender look in your eyes and the moment was gone before it even fully registered.
"Of you, of this." You admitted, your own eyes stinging with unshed tears as all the fight seemed to drain out of you realizing the hopelessness of your situation. All that planning and pretending and look where you had still ended up. People like you just couldn't go up against people like him.
"Scared of someone who loves you more than anything in the world?" He asked incredulously, catching your wrists in his grasp as you tried to drop your face into your hands.
"This isn't love, it's madness Gojo. Love isn't forceful or violent like this." You sobbed, fighting to pull your wrists out of his hold so you wouldn't have to look at him again. He gathered your wrists in one of his hands, forcing your arms behind your back so you couldn't push him away.
"How can you say that? How can you say I don't love you?" He asked.
"Let go of me." You spat, trying with all your might to get out of his hold but your strength was no match for his.
"I'll show you how much I love you. I'll make you realize you love me too, I know you do." He cupped your face within his hand so you couldn't look away from him. Ignoring your renewed struggling and cries as you were forced to look into those eyes and the madness that glinted within them.
"We have all the time in the world here darling. It's just you and me here on this island. No one to come between our love and nowhere for you to run."
Hi! I know this would seem strange but! I have been looking everywhere for you! I was a huge fan of your fanfic when I was first starting on Wattpad. I was in love with your work Mythomania. The one about Jimin.
I would reread it so many times over and over and I just couldn’t get over it. I was obsessed with your book. Your writing and the way you told the story was so good! I got really sad when the original fanfic was deleted. I was happy to know later on the book was so popular you later published for pay. I was so happy for you cause you made the dreams of fanfiction writers to become real publishers someday.
But I just had to know does the original fanfic of Mythomania exist with Jimin still as the male lead in the book? Everytime I remember the fanfic I get sad to know it’s no longer there.
It’s okay if you no longer have it. I just really miss the original soo much. A lot even.And I know you have another one like it. it’s basically the same thing but the names have changed. But it’s just not the same without the OG. I love your work and hope you’re doing well with your publishings. Your amazing!❤️
Hello!!
Thanks so much for sending in an ask! I'm sorry it took me a while to get back to you, but I really appreciate your message! I'm so happy that Mytho means a lot to you and that you're still thinking about it after all this time. ❤️
I do think I have a copy of the original swimming around somewhere on my computer but due to Amazon's exclusivity policies (and also Hybe, probably) I cannot share or post the fanfic anywhere.
I do plan on writing some more yan fics of the tannies and posting them, so look forward to those!
Again, thanks so much for reaching out! It means the world 🌎
synopsis. this was just a job for you. well, you didn't consider it to be a proper job, but the fans paid you well, and the fancams turn good, so you don't complain. though, this gig turned into something bigger when a company recruited you to be the photographer for him. and god.. why is he so annoying?
content warnings. photographer!reader, yandere tendencies, unbothered!reader, obsessive and possessive behaviours, stalking (from side characters), lowkey a soft yandere, angst, fluff, lowkey willing!reader, kind of cracked?
word count. 4.8k
xander page had always been too pretty to be left alone.
it started early — when he was just a kid, bony and quiet, with lashes too long and a voice that rarely raised above a whisper. there was something about him that made people stare.
first it was girls in class. boys too. then teachers. neighbors. strangers in the market. they stared like they knew something he didn’t.
he used to think it was in his head.
until the first note showed up in his locker, until someone started following him home.
after that, it didn’t stop.
he changed schools twice before sixteen. someone leaked his address. someone else waited outside his part-time job for a week, watching him through the windows without saying a word.
a man twice his age sent him gifts through the front desk of his apartment building. clothes in the right size. a photo of him leaving the bus stop, taped to a postcard that read:
"you look better up close."
he’d stopped flinching at threats by then. it was the affection that made him sick. his mother tried to help, in the way people do when they think it’s just a phase, just overactive imaginations. but she was working double shifts and never saw the worst of it.
his friends, what few he had, started pulling away too. it was hard to be close to someone who never felt safe.
so he learned to disappear. hoods up, eyes down, different routes every day.
he stopped trusting doors. stopped sleeping through the night.
what no one ever told him was this; being loved by the wrong people feels like drowning with a spotlight on you. everyone’s watching, no one’s helping.
he kept waiting to be forgotten but they always found him again. so one day, right after graduation, when the world stretched ahead like a threat, he thought, fine. if i’m going to be followed, might as well give them something to chase.
he walked into the audition with no plan, no dance, no training. just a face too perfect to ignore and a voice that sounded like smoke and steel.
the judges didn’t even ask for a second round.
his name wasn’t xander back then.
he still remembers when they gave it to him. a label-picked name, all sharp edges and western shine.
xander page.
"you look like a xander," the CEO had said, like it was a compliment. "foreign, but cool."
like that meant anything. the name fit like cold water. he never corrected anyone. he didn’t even write his real name down after that.
becoming an idol was less like training and more like drowning in a different sea. choreography at 6 a.m. rap drills until midnight. salads for dinner, ice cubes for snacks.
every mirror was a reminder; you exist to be looked at.
but for once, that felt… useful. controlled. there were managers now, security, locked buildings, layers of glass between him and the rest of the world.
if they were going to watch him, they’d have to do it from behind a screen.
he debuted in the fifth seat of a five-member group called VAR!ANT. a visual and rapper. the cold one, the quiet one. he wasn’t pretending. he didn’t know how to be loud anymore.
xander became a face, not a person. people projected their love onto him like film onto a screen and he let them. this time, at least, they weren’t sending hair in envelopes, not yet.
he did what he was told.
signed albums, answered questions, made the peace sign in every photo. and when the other members laughed and joked and played up for cameras, he stood just behind them — smiling only when the flash went off.
he didn’t mind.
at least here, the rules made sense. at least here, love came with a schedule.
the first time he stepped out of the black van in front of music bank, it didn’t feel real.
the fans had been waiting since morning. lined up behind barricades, holding up banners, chanting names, snapping photos like the world would end if they blinked.
xander pulled his mask up higher. adjusted his sleeves.
the sun was too bright. the screams were too loud. he was used to silence now — controlled chaos.
but this was chaos without walls.
the others got out before him, smiling and waving. he hesitated and then he stepped out.
his foot hit the pavement, the flashbulbs exploded. his name — xander! xander! — ripped through the air like a siren.
he didn’t look up, didn’t engage. just walked. eyes low. face blank. until something shifted. a stillness in the noise, a thread pulling tight in the crowd. and then he looked up.
you were there.
near the middle of the fence line, not holding a sign, not screaming.
you had a camera in your hands, and your gaze was steady, calm, unlike the blur around you. and for a moment, xander forgot how to breathe. because your lens was aimed right at him.
not the member next to him, not the group behind. him.
but it wasn’t the camera that stopped him.
it was the way you looked at him — like you recognized him. not the name. not the image.
him.
his real self, the one buried under five years of stage makeup and rebranded identity. the boy who used to hide from windows. your finger clicked the shutter.
and in that instant, xander page fell in love. not loud, not cinematic but quiet, shattering.
like something breaking open inside him and then the moment passed. his manager called his name, the others kept walking, the fans screamed louder.
but his head stayed turned, his eyes stayed locked on yours. he didn’t know your name, he didn’t know if you’d ever come to another show. but he knew one thing, you’d seen him.
and that was more dangerous than anything. more dangerous than being followed.
because now, he wanted to follow you.
｡ ｡ ｡ ｡ ｡ ｡
you weren’t a fan.
not really.
you weren’t the kind of person who lined up outside airports or taped posters to your walls or cried when albums dropped at midnight. but you had a camera. a good one, and you had steady hands.
so when someone offered to pay you for idol photos; clean, high-res, nothing creepy — you figured, why not.
you weren’t going to chase them into bathrooms, you weren’t going to climb fences or break into hotels.
you had limits.
but you could show up at music shows. you could slip through the crowd with a lens long enough to cut through chaos. you could deliver twenty perfect shots in a google drive folder and never think about it again.
easy money.
and fans paid well, desperate fans even better.
the request for xander page came in on a thursday. the message was short. no name. just a username you didn’t recognize and a cash offer that nearly made you choke on your drink.
xander page. VAR!ANT. music bank. i want photos. good ones.i’ll pay triple your rate. upfront.
you hesitated. not because you were scared but because you’d heard of him.
xander had a reputation. pretty, cold, unreadable. never smiled unless the camera begged, some said he had a tragic past. others just said he was weird.
you didn’t care either way. you googled his face, watched a stage or two.
okay. fine. you got the hype.
he was beautiful in a very precise, distant kind of way — like art behind museum glass. not warm, not reachable. just there, like light refracted through something sharp.
you accepted the job and the ticket came the next day.
you didn’t wear merch, you didn’t carry a sign. you kept your camera close and your hood up. the crowd outside music bank was already unhinged by the time you arrived; screaming, chanting, vibrating with this desperate sort of devotion you’d never really understood.
you weren’t one of them. you were just here to work. you squeezed in between two girls holding banners and positioned your lens over the barrier.
the vans pulled up and everyone lost their minds.
the first members of VAR!ANT got out one by one. they looked like every other rookie group you’d seen; young, polished, beaming like they’d been trained to glow.
you snapped a few shots.
not of xander, not yet. you were waiting. and then, he stepped out and everything slowed.
he didn’t look at the crowd first, he didn’t wave. he didn’t smile. he looked down. his hair was pink due to the promotional album, tucked under a beanie, and his mask covered most of his face, but even from where you stood, you could tell it was him.
he didn’t walk like the others, he didn’t move like he owed anyone anything. you lifted your camera. framed the shot.
his foot hit the ground.
click. you caught it.
he moved. click. shoulders squared.
then he looked up. and he looked at you. not around you, not through you. at you. you froze because there was something behind his stare that didn’t match the videos you’d seen, didn’t match the coldness.
he looked like he’d just seen something impossible like maybe he didn’t believe you were real. his steps slowed, just slightly, barely noticeable but you saw it.
his eyes locked onto yours like a thread had been pulled tight across the space between you.
click. you caught it again.
not just the face. not just the light. the moment. you weren’t a fan but your fingers trembled a little around the camera.
it lasted maybe three seconds.
then someone called his name, he turned his head. the line moved forward. but he kept looking back, just once before leaving.
you exhaled and lowered the camera. your heart was beating too loud for someone who was just here for a job. but you’d felt something shift.
something dangerous. something that didn’t belong in this world of idols and lenses and pretty lies.
you took the shots, you got the payment. but that moment wasn’t for them. that one… you kept for yourself.
｡ ｡ ｡ ｡ ｡ ｡
you didn’t plan to become the xander page photographer. but after that first show, the requests started rolling in.
quietly, at first. then all at once.
messages flooded your inbox, screenshots of xander, timestamps, fan accounts begging for just a few hqs.
"can you get him looking this way?" "i want a clear shot of his mic hand, please." "his eyes when he does that thing — you know the one."
you never responded with more than a few words, you didn’t do edits. you didn’t promise anything. you just took your camera, stood where you always did, quiet, still, invisible, and captured him.
xander page didn’t perform like the others. he didn’t act like he wanted to be loved but that only made people want him more.
and somehow, you always caught the best angles. the in-between moments, the ones where he looked less like a product and more like a person.
you told yourself it was just a job. but deep down, something kept pulling you back. not the money, not the likes. him.
he hadn’t looked at you again. not directly. not like that first time.
but sometimes, in the middle of a show, when the lights were too bright and he was too far gone in the music, he’d glance up.
and for a split second, you swore he was searching.
you shot him at five shows. then ten. your google drive folders were immaculate. each one named with date, setlist, location. every file timestamped. no watermarks, no fan edits.
just him. raw, precise, undeniably beautiful.
you started recognizing other fansites in the crowd, you didn’t talk to them. you were here for the stillness. for the way xander’s expression sometimes cracked mid-verse. for the way he always kept his hands clenched during encore songs.
you never posted your favorite shots, they were just for you.
the night of the seoul dome concert, everything changed. VAR!ANT was headlining. it was sold out in minutes, over twenty thousand people.
you’d gotten the pass through a repeat client. front section, near the stage extension, clean sightline.
xander was electric that night.
his hair was damp, sweat clinging to his jaw, mouth set in that usual quiet snarl, but the energy was different. he moved like the stage belonged to him.
the crowd screamed his name so loud it sounded like thunder. and you? you kept your lens steady.
click. a close-up under blue lights.
click. a wide shot of his silhouette as he turned, backlit like a phantom.
click. you caught it again, the moment. he looked in your direction. not at you. not quite. but his gaze stopped moving, right where you stood.
just for a breath. and the edge of his mouth twitched. not a smile, not fully. but close. you didn’t move, didn’t blink and...
click.
after the show, the stadium buzzed like static. crowds pushed to leave. fans sobbed into their banners. you packed up your gear like always — slow, careful, methodical.
but as you zipped your camera bag, someone tapped your shoulder. you turned and see a man. the man wore black, badge on a lanyard, earpiece. definitely not a fan.
“excuse me," he said. "are you the one who took this?"
he held out his phone. your photo, from two shows ago. xander mid-spin, spotlight catching the sweat at his temple, eyes on fire.
uncredited, but unmistakably yours. your fingers twitched.
“…who’s asking?”
“we’re with elysian.”
the label.
you raised a brow, guarded, curious.
he continued, professional and crisp. “our team’s been tracking your uploads. your work’s been circulated through internal comms more than you know.” he paused and then continued, “we’re interested. in hiring you.”
your heart stalled. “as what?”
“concert photography. promotions. official team.”
you narrowed your eyes. "i have conditions."
“name them.”
you folded your arms. “i keep my side work. i choose what shows i cover. and i don’t watermark or edit unless i want to.”
the man blinked. once before nodding. “agreed.” no hesitation.
you almost laughed. “you don’t want to think about that first?”
he just gave a tight smile. “they’ve been trying to find you for six weeks.” another pause. “xander himself asked who was taking the best shots of him.”
your stomach twisted. you kept your face neutral. “…did he?”
“yes.”
you didn’t answer right away, just let the weight of it sink in. he’d noticed, he’d seen. not just once, not just on stage. he looked. you nodded slowly.
“then i guess i’m in.”
｡ ｡ ｡ ｡ ｡ ｡
the shoot was at a private studio in mapo. early morning. polished floors, white walls, enough natural light to make god jealous. you showed up fifteen minutes early, camera bag on your shoulder, lens case in your hand, and not a single trace of nerves on your face.
this was work. you were good at it. the assistant led you in with a quick “they’re just finishing makeup — set up anywhere,” and vanished into another room.
the place was quiet, clean. a few folding tables with untouched snacks, clothes on racks, light rigs half-assembled. you picked the corner with the best angle and started unpacking. tripod up, camera out, no drama.
you liked shoots, they obeyed rules. no screaming fans, no stage chaos. just composition and control.
you were adjusting your lens when you heard the low murmur of voices, a few footsteps, a half-laugh.
the members of VAR!ANT filtered in, one by one, taller in person, louder, already dressed in black and silver for the concept.
you barely glanced at them.
until the room dipped in volume like air being sucked out and he walked in.
xander.
taller than you expected. leaner, sharper, like he’d been carved instead of born. still expressionless, mouth neutral, eyes unreadable. someone said something to him, and he nodded but didn’t answer.
you watched from your viewfinder. habit, not interest. he walked past the lights, past the backdrop, past the others and stopped right in front of you.
“you’re the photographer?” his voice wasn’t deep, but it hit low. smooth. familiar in a way that made your spine twitch. you blinked, lowered the camera. “…yeah.”
silence. then, he smiled. tiny, restrained, but real. and that’s when the room paused.
you didn’t notice it at first, but everyone else did. a stylist looked up too fast and dropped a brush. the youngest member, isaac, blinked like he’d seen a ghost. someone at the rack straight up whispered, “what the hell — he’s talking?”
your eyes narrowed slightly. not at him. just at the situation.
“…okay. hi.” he nodded like he didn’t want the conversation to end.
“you always shoot this fast?”
“when i’m paid to.”
“didn’t know you’d be here today.”
“wasn’t trying to make it a surprise.”
he grinned at that. you regretted giving him the opening immediately. he didn’t walk away, he didn’t even blink.
just stood there, still watching you. you turned, refocused your camera.
“i’m setting up. go do your… idol thing.”
“this is my idol thing.”
you didn’t laugh but he did.
the shoot began.
you adjusted the lights. the director called poses. the other photographer — who you realized was technically in charge, gave occasional commands, but you were the one they kept glancing at. the one xander kept watching.
he’d pose like normal, tilt of the chin, flash of profile — and the second your camera clicked, his eyes would drop toward you.
not the lens. you.
you ignored it at first. he was a performer. this was his job. but then he started talking again. while you were shooting.
“this side better?”
click.
“or maybe like, this?”
click.
“do you ever let people see your face or is that just for your camera?”
click.
“you always ignore people this hard?”
click.
you lowered the camera. stared at him.
“i’m working.”
“so am i.”
“are you?”
he tilted his head.
“…no. not really.”
you sighed.
“just, look at the backdrop, page.”
“you called me page,” he said, like it meant something.
you adjusted the aperture, he adjusted his stance.
“is that your way of flirting?” you muttered.
“only if it’s working.”
you rolled your eyes. he looked delighted.
after an hour of this, you gave up. you weren’t going to win. he had too much stamina. too much commitment to the bit. so you gave him what he wanted. a look, a smirk, one second of undivided attention.
he lit up like someone had handed him a new soul. you didn’t know xander page personally, but you knew this — he was acting like a dog who’d finally gotten a treat after sitting for hours.
he didn’t stop smiling. even when he turned away. even when they called him for a solo shot in front of the textured wall.
you took three photos without thinking. didn’t even check the preview, you just knew they were perfect.
they wrapped a little after noon. the staff buzzed around packing cords, rolling backdrops, collecting tape from the floor.
you were organizing your folders on your laptop, checking clarity, noting timestamps.
xander was already dressed down, black hoodie over his tank top, hair still half-damp from a mist spray.
you felt him before you heard him.
he tapped the table twice next to your laptop. you looked up.
“you gonna ghost me after today?” he asked.
“depends.”
“on?”
“whether or not you ask for my number like a normal person.”
he blinked. then smiled slow, like he wasn’t sure if you were joking but he pulled his phone out anyway and held it out to you.
you typed your number in, clean and quiet. no emoji. no name. he stared at the screen for a second too long.
“…this isn’t fake, right?”
“try it and see.”
he grinned before he turned to leave. but before he got far, he paused and looked back over his shoulder.
“don’t ignore me.”
you didn’t respond. he disappeared out the door, his manager trailing behind him. you exhaled for what felt like the first time in two hours.
ten minutes later, while you were unplugging your light panel, your phone buzzed.
( unknown )
it’s me. don’t save it if you don’t want to.
but i’m gonna keep texting anyway.
your photos were good, by the way. but i looked better in person, huh?
you stared at the screen and smiled to yourself. but you didn’t answer.
｡ ｡ ｡ ｡ ｡ ｡
you don’t know when exactly xander page decided he was allowed to text you at all hours. but he does. at first, it’s once a day. a casual ping. something short and dumb.
( xander )
are you eating real food or just batteries and camera dust
then it’s twice. then five times. you never respond.
you’re not doing it to be cruel. you’re just busy, you have work. you shoot for three other bands now, one indie magazine, and a side contract with a fashion label that pays you in advance.
he knows this. he just doesn’t care.
( xander )
i think one of your photos of me is cursed
my mom framed it and now our cat doesn’t blink anymore
( xander )
are you ignoring me on purpose
be honest
is this a power thing
( xander )
do you have a cat
you look like you’d have a mean one
like a little guy with attitude
( xander )
that wasn’t an insult
please reply so i can apologize for the thing i just said that wasn’t even bad
you stare at your screen, thumb hovering over the reply box. every time you come close, you stop.
because this whole thing is stupid. he’s stupid, he talks like a golden retriever who got famous and never realized it.
you don’t hate it. you just don’t know what to do with it.
and then one day, you’re shooting for a mid-tier rock group at a multi-lineup showcase. it’s your third job of the week. your eyes are dry. your bag is heavy. you’re standing in the press pit, packed shoulder to shoulder with other photographers who all elbow a little too hard.
you have one earplug in, your knees hurt. the crowd behind you smells like rain and heat and glitter. you’ve been locked in all day. until your phone buzzes again.
you don’t look at it right away. you’ve trained yourself not to.
but then it buzzes again. and again. and again. you sigh, pull it out of your pocket, and glance down. it’s all xander.
( xander )
i saw you
don’t lie
that was you with the black mask and grey jacket
standing near the guy with the cheetah print scarf
you freeze. you glance up, slowly, out at the crowd.
somewhere out there, behind the upper barrier, across the floor, maybe behind tinted glass, xander page is watching you.
( xander )
why are you here
are you shooting another band
do you like them better than us
be honest
is their lead singer hotter than me
no don’t answer that i can’t emotionally handle it
you exhale through your nose, it’s not a laugh but it’s close.
( xander )
actually answer it
i changed my mind
i want to suffer
your fingers hover over the screen for a long second. then, without thinking, you type back.
( name )
i’m working. stop texting.
you don’t expect him to respond. you definitely don’t expect him to respond in less than one second.
( xander )
YOU TEXTED ME
this is real
this is the best moment of my week
i’m gonna cry
you can picture him saying it. not just writing it — saying it. in that low, amused voice he uses when he’s half-joking, half-serious.
you regret replying already but you don’t stop.
( name )
why are you even here
( xander )
industry invite
we’re not performing
we’re “making an appearance”
i’m wearing stupid pants
( name )
cry about it
( xander )
i will
you tuck your phone into your back pocket, hiding the smile that’s threatening your face. your camera hangs against your chest, warm from use. you look through your lens, frame the next shot.
but your focus is slipping, your mind keeps drifting back to him. somewhere behind all these bodies and barriers, he’s out there, eyes sharp, probably scanning every inch of you with his annoyingly perfect memory.
you shoot two more bands. you’re halfway through editing thumbnails on your backup screen when your phone buzzes again.
( xander )
don’t look up
but i can see you
you look up. you can’t help it. you scan the higher levels of the arena, your gaze darting through the rows and the glass-lined booths, until… there. far left, top floor. a private balcony box, dimly lit, security posted near the door.
you see movement. and then a hand, fingers. he waves. you shake your head, but your face is warm. you glance back down.
( xander )
you shook your head but you smiled
i saw it
i see everything
( name )
you’re a menace
( xander )
thank you
you laugh under your breath. this is bad. this is so, so bad. because he’s not annoying anymore, not really, not today.
you don’t want to admit it, but he’s grown on you like a bruise you stopped noticing. soft around the edges, weirdly warm, still a little inconvenient.
but not painful, not now.
( xander )
i’m gonna keep talking unless you tell me to stop
i like when you boss me around
is that a weird thing to say
i think we’re close enough that i can say weird things now
( name )
we are not close
( xander )
you for my number first
that makes us spiritually married
( name )
i will throw this phone in the ocean
( xander )
i’ll swim down and get it
and frame the text
and use it as my lock screen forever
you sigh.
( name )
focus on your job
( xander )
YOU’RE my job now
you stare at the message. okay, that one actually got you. you pause, breathe in.
( name )
i’m serious. you’re at an event. don’t be weird.
( xander )
i’m not being weird
i’m being devoted
there’s a difference
( xander )
i’m not talking to anyone here
all i’ve done for an hour is look at you
you glance back up at the balcony. he’s still there, still staring.
you raise your camera, slowly, zoom in. focus. he doesn’t flinch. you snap the photo. just one, no one else in the frame. just xander, leaning forward over the railing, chin resting on his hand, a stupid, stupid smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
you drop the camera from your face. he raises both eyebrows, waves again. you look away and your phone buzzes.
( xander )
now YOU’RE the one taking unauthorized pictures
i could sue
i won’t
but i could
you don’t reply this time. you just go back to your camera, recenter, reframe, repress the urge to grin like a lunatic.
the show ends with confetti and fireworks and a final chorus you can’t even hear over the roar of the crowd. you stay late, you always do.
you back up your files to the hard drive in your case, sort your shots by lighting and color, scrub the lens clean. you’re halfway through repacking when your phone buzzes again.
( xander )
you still there?
you hesitate and then typed.
( name )
yeah. packing up.
he doesn’t reply. you slide your bag over your shoulder and turn toward the exit, stepping carefully through the loose wires and leftover tape across the floor.
the crowd’s mostly gone. just crew now. a few stray fans being ushered out by security.
you reach the door to the hallway and pause, and your phone buzzes again.
( xander )
look right
you do and he’s there. not behind glass, not on a balcony. there. standing halfway down the hallway, hoodie up, hair messy, a bottle of water in one hand and that stupid soft smile on his face.
“hey,” he says.
you blink. “…you weren’t supposed to leave the balcony.”
he shrugs. “they let me out.”
you narrow your eyes. “you ran.”
“i walked fast with conviction.”
“…xander.”
“you said my name,” he says. too pleased. way too pleased. you fight a laugh, you can’t win with him. he doesn’t let you.
“what do you want?”
“nothing,” he says, which you immediately know is a lie. “just… wanted to see you.”
“you’ve been seeing me.”
he nods.
“yeah. but now you’re closer.”
you don’t answer. you just stare at him. he looks tired, happy, but tired. dark circles smudged under his eyes, sweat still clinging to the curve of his neck.
he looks real. you sigh and shift your bag higher on your shoulder.
“…you need to go back before they panic.”
he nods again but he doesn’t move.
“you gonna text me again?” he asks.
“maybe.”
he grins. “i’ll spam you until you do.”
“you already do.”
“then i’ll escalate.”
you shake your head and start walking. and as you pass him, his hand brushes yours, barely.
just enough to spark something warm down your wrist.
you don’t stop but you do look back once. he’s still there, still smiling. and for once — you don’t mind it.
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