#even just sitting on the couch together you know

[puck-luck]

Hi, girly. I hope I find you fine.

I'd like to make a request with Quinn. Could you write something where reader is feeling down, like after a day of dealing with friends/family drama and she is just drained, plus they are at the lake house and yk all the boys are there but she doesn't feel like having dinner or hanging out with them, she just wants to cuddle and recharge and Q just excuses himself to be with her and hopefully makes her feel better.

Thank you so much 💓

warnings: cockwarming. that's IT. other than that, it's just domestic bliss.

pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader

word count: 1,229

note: thank you @skylershines for requesting this! sorry it took me a while to finish :,) this ask wasn't inherently sexual, but since i am a smut writer, i had to throw in a sexual element or two. i am not THE fluff girl on tumblr dot com LOL but love you girly

The boys are downstairs making a ruckus about something. You’re starting to wonder if they ever tire themselves out, or if they’re always full of energy like this. The day has been long and chock-full of activities and you’re… rather exhausted.

Maybe it’s because of all the sun you soaked up on the boat that’s making you sleepy. Maybe it’s the swimming you did or the wine with the big, filling, home-cooked meal that Quinn made. Maybe it’s from the flight from Vancouver to Michigan two days ago that’s making you so tired. Maybe it’s the knowledge that you’re working from home– Quinn’s home– tomorrow and you can’t dedicate all your time to the fun happenings in the vacation home.

All in all, you don’t know what the root of your exhaustion is, but you know that there’s no way you want to leave this bed again today. You’re due for a good rot. You’ve got a book in hand and you’re all tucked in beneath the covers and the fact that it’s only 7:30pm doesn’t matter to you one bit. The sun hasn’t even started to set, but here you are, ready for bed.

Between the lines in your book, you can piece together what the boys are talking about downstairs. Trevor wants a bonfire. Jack and Luke want to go wakesurfing. Alex doesn’t care, but he wants someone to make a decision. Cole wants to stay in and play ping pong. You’re secretly hoping that the fact that you can’t really hear your boyfriend arguing with his brothers and friends means that he’ll be coming upstairs to join you soon.

It isn’t long before you hear feetsteps padding up the stairs and making their way towards the bedroom you share with Quinn. You continue reading, paying no mind to the man entering the room, but there’s a hint of a smile on your face. 

“Hey,” Quinn greets in a low, relaxed tone. He kisses the top of your head, hovering by your side of the bed. “The boys want to do something. Are you up for it?”

Not really. “What do they want to do?” you ask, not sure if they’d come to an agreement by the time Quinn joined you upstairs. You don’t really want to join the boys, but you don’t want to seem like a spoilsport during your first trip to the lakehouse. Being a recluse won’t get you any favors, no matter how much Quinn likes you. You might be able to go downstairs and sit by a bonfire or watch from the couch while the boys play ping pong. Sitting on the boat wouldn’t be that bad, but you’d have to change out of your pajamas (a cute little slip that you packed just for Quinn). You also know that “one hour on the boat” never actually means one hour on the boat. It always stretches into two or three. So, really, you’d rather stay in.

“Thinking about going out on the boat,” Quinn replies, because you’re really not that lucky when it comes down to it.

Again, you’re faced with a dilemma: you can go with them and feel tired and cranky or you can stay here and feel like you’re not being a good girlfriend by joining the group. There’s not really a good option. At least in this bed, you’ll be warm.

“I kind of just want to stay in bed, if that’s okay,” you tell Quinn with a small shrug. “But I don’t want them to think that I’m boring or anything. I’m just tired.”

Quinn lets out a laugh. “They don’t think you’re boring. Are you okay, though? I know your ‘just tired’ can mean something else sometimes.”

He’s so sweet. You’ve been with Quinn less than a year, but he’s still managed to note your idiosyncrasies and moods perfectly. “I’m okay, sweet boy.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

A wave of affection passes through you. “Do what you want, Q. You choose. I won’t say no to cuddling you all night, but don’t stay on my account.”

“Just let me tell the guys to go without me,” Quinn replies. He leans down and meets your lips. “Then I’ll be back.”

He departs, but his return is quick. He brings his own book and gets into his pajamas– nothing but his boxer shorts– before joining you under the covers. Quinn throws an arm over your shoulders and opens his book, settling in.

You read together in silence for a little while. You start to get bored and allow yourself two more chapters– after checking to see just how long those chapters were, six and eight pages respectively– before you close your book and set it on the nightstand. You slide down the bed a bit, wrapping your arm around Quinn’s waist and squishing your cheek against his chest. 

Quinn rubs your arm. “Sleepy, babe?” he asks.

You hum, turning your face into his bare skin and planting a kiss there. “You’re warm.”

Quinn breathes out a laugh. He pulls you closer; you’re practically on his lap now. You might as well finish the job and get comfortable, so you straddle Quinn and bury your face in his neck, kissing the skin there. Quinn brings his hand to your back and runs his fingers up and down the expanse of it in soothing motions. 

It tickles at first, making you squirm. After a minute or so, you relax into the touch– and a few minutes after that, you find yourself grinding down against Quinn’s rapidly-filling cock.

“Quinn,” you murmur in his ear. You pull back and meet his eyes, trying to convey what you want with just a look. 

You don’t want much. You’re still tired and drained from the day, completely washed out from the swimming and boating and sunbathing you’d been thinking of earlier. All you want is to have Quinn close.

“Yeah,” he replies with a nod. He sets his book aside and encourages you to kneel up just enough that he can slide the waistband of his boxers down and free his cock. 

Greedily, you try to grind against his shaft as soon as it’s free, but Quinn halts you with a soft touch from his free hand. 

He fists the base of his cock and pulls the crotch of your panties to the side, using the pads of his deft fingers to spread your folds. His eyes are hooded and loving as his tip breaches your hole, and he starts to smile when you sink down and settle against him. 

“Oh,” you breathe out once you take him fully, clenching down and loosening your grip on his cock a few times before melting into Quinn. 

“Sweet girl,” Quinn praises in the tone that’s just for you. He plants his hands on your hips and kisses your lips.

Neither of you make an effort to move. In fact, you find yourself growing very drowsy in Quinn’s comforting arms. His distinct, tender touch has your head lulling forward, falling against his shoulder. Quinn breathes deeply and you follow, matching him. The smell of his bodywash fills your nose and you close your eyes, taking another breath.

It’s not inherently sexual, having Quinn’s cock inside you and his lips on your skin. It is, however, exactly what you needed after such an exhausting day.

[kashverse]

hey hey!! I LOVE your work!!!

Could you possibly make papakuna and mamakuna on a little date but babykuna somehow convinced the babysitter/maid to call during you date?

TYSM!! <3

date night with your husband was a rare luxury, a brief, shining moment of freedom in your otherwise babykuna-infested lives. so when you and sukuna finally settled into the plush booth of a high-end restaurant, menus in hand, stomachs ready for a five-course feast, the last thing you wanted was your phone buzzing like a time bomb on the table. you and sukuna exchanged a look.

incoming call: choso.

sukuna groaned. “i swear to god, if he lost her—”

you put the call on speaker. before choso could even greet you, a high-pitched scream pierced through the line.

“WHERE ARE MY LABUBU’S CLOTHES?!”

sukuna’s soul ascended.

“WHERE DID YOU AND MAMA PUT THEM? THEY’RE FREEZING!”

cue choso’s panicked voice.

“baby, i promise uncle choso will find them, just take a deep breath—”

“NO, YOU WON’T, YOU DON’T KNOW ANYTHING!”

“i can try—”

“NO, YOU CAN’T! YOU’RE TOO OLD!”

“…ow.”

you exhaled sharply, rubbing your temples. “baby, did you check your toy box?”

“YES!”

“under your bed?”

“YES!”

sukuna cracked his knuckles, going full military commander mode.

“alright. baby. go to your closet. open the left drawer, top section.”

rustling. then—

“THERE’S NOTHING HERE!”

sukuna’s eye twitched violently.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THERE'S NOTHING—”

choso, barely holding on, spoke up. “bro, i think you just made that up.”

“I DID NOT. I KNOW MY OWN HOUSE.”

you grabbed the phone before sukuna lost his mind. “baby, check under your pink blanket.”

more rustling. then, in a dead serious voice—

“mama. mama, i found them.”

both you and sukuna exhaled. then—

“since you’re already coming back home, let’s just all play together!”

you and sukuna froze.

“baby, no, mama and papa are—”

“but you’re already on your way home!”

“we’re not—”

“SEE YOU SOON, MAMA AND PAPA! LOVE YOU! MWAAAHH!”

CLICK. the call ended.

silence.

sukuna clenched his jaw. “...we are not going home.” you nodded. “nope. we sit here. we eat. we enjoy ourselves.”

.....

thirty minutes later, you were home. the moment you stepped inside, you were greeted by a horrifying sight.

babykuna, beaming, holding the labubu clothes like she hadn’t just committed psychological warfare on you two.

choso, sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring into the void.

baby the tabby, kneading a blanket with sinister intent.

mr. pickles, perched on the couch like a mafia boss.

babykuna clapped her hands. “YAY! since you're home, let's play together!” sukuna, dead inside, muttered, “...yeah. let’s.” 

you leaned down and whispered to choso, “how long have you been held hostage?” choso, eyes hollow, replied, “too long.”

[steddieas-shegoes]

not to me

for @steddielovemonth inspired by the quote “I’ll take care of you” “it’s rotten work” “not to me. Not if it’s you”

rated t | 947 words | cw: injury recovery | tags: pre-relationship, post-Vecna, friends to lovers, getting together, first kiss, disabled Eddie Munson

👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️

“Fuck!” Eddie yells as he throws his hands up in frustration.

He’s been trying to stand on his own for days now, and the furthest he’s gotten is pulling himself most of the way up. His legs shake. He falls back down.

Repeat again until he finally isn’t even strong enough to get himself upright.

Wayne’s always home, but he doesn’t watch. At least he doesn’t let Eddie know if he is. But he’s home in case Eddie ends up hurting himself or falling onto something other than his bed or the couch.

Steve’s come by a few times, offering to be a steady body to hold onto. He doesn’t accept the offer. Usually, he jokes that Wayne’s the only man he’s ever trusted and distracts him with something else.

“Alright, Ed?” Wayne calls to him from the kitchen.

“Fine!” Eddie calls back because he doesn’t want Wayne to come into his room and see him splayed out in his bed while his walker is still unused by his bed. He glares at the wheelchair in the corner of the room.

The doctors said he’d be in it for a long time, maybe months, but he’s determined to prove them wrong. They also said he wouldn’t play guitar again, but he was already able to play most of the chords.

He hears a car pull up outside and he just knows it’s Steve. Of course he would come over now.

The car door opens and closes.

The front door opens and closes.

Wayne greets him like he’s an old pal and he kind of is. It’s a little weird how close they’ve become since Eddie woke up, but whatever.

There’s a knock on his bedroom door before it opens.

Closes.

Steve looks nice. Not dressed up, necessarily, but he’s wearing his good jeans and a new polo. His hair is done a little less carefree, more like he actually went through the phases of blow drying it, putting product in it, and then showing up here to drive Eddie and his unrequited crush crazy.

He smells nice, too.

“Is that a new cologne?”

“It’s not new, I just only wear it for dates.”

Eddie’s heart sinks. It shouldn’t.

Not only is Eddie a man, but he’s also weird. And, at this current time, he’s pretty much bedbound or being pushed around in a wheelchair.

Steve’s a good guy, but he isn’t gonna waste the good cologne on visiting Eddie.

“Oh. Where you taking her? Movies? Dinner?” Eddie sits up so he doesn’t have to look up at Steve. His mind starts to wander to other reasons Steve might be above him, but luckily, Steve answers before he gets carried away.

“I’m taking you to my place,” Steve replies simply.

“I thought you were going on a date?”

“I am. I’m taking you to my house.”

“No offense, but I’d rather not sit alone at your house while you’re on a date,” Eddie snorts. “Is this because Wayne’s leaving in the morning for a weekend trip? I swear I’ll be fine on my own. Dustin’s coming by tomorrow anyway.”

“Eddie.” Steve takes both of his hands. “I’m taking you to my house for a date. You and me. On a date. I’m making dinner for us and I thought you could help me make a character sheet.”

Eddie must’ve fallen and hit his head. He must’ve blacked out. Wayne will be so pissed that his independence has landed him in the hospital again.

“You’re saying words to me. I hear them.”

Steve groans. He lets go of Eddie’s hands and cups his face instead.

“Wayne said this would be difficult.” He rubs his thumb against Eddie’s cheek, smirking. “You’re awake. You’re alive. I’m really here in front of you. I’m asking you to come to my house so I can charm you and maybe kiss you at the end of our date. And then you can stay at mine, but there’s no expectations. I have the guest room made up for you.”

“This is crazy. You realize this is crazy?” Eddie squeaks. “You’re not even gay!”

“I’m a little gay,” Steve laughs. “And I really like you.”

“But-“ Eddie turns to his wheelchair. He’s definitely gonna need it to get outside and then back inside Steve’s house. And then he’ll probably need help getting upstairs to the guest room, or Steve’s room if he’s lucky. “You’ll have to help me. For a long time maybe. The doctors might have been right on this. I can’t even stand, let alone walk. And I’m miserable about it. What you walked in on was my 28th attempt at getting up to use my walker today and I’m no closer than I was on day one, attempt one. It’ll be a lot of fucking work, taking care of me.”

“Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

Eddie’s speechless for quite possibly the first time in his life.

“Can I kiss you?”

Eddie nods once. Steve beams at him, like he’s given him the best gift he’s ever received.

He gets lightheaded almost immediately. Steve’s lips are gentle against his, full of so much tenderness and love. It’s almost more than he can handle.

Eddie chases his lips as Steve pulls away.

“Don’t stop,” Eddie whines.

“I’m gonna take you home. We’re gonna have a date. And then we’re gonna kiss again. Let me treat you right, though,” Steve says and winks.

“You stop that. I can’t handle your winking.”

Steve laughs, kisses him again. He leans back and claps his hands together.

“Alright, let’s get you in the chair so we can get home. Dinner’s gonna take about an hour to make.”

[sugarwarachan]

roll the dice - ft. sero hanta

pairing: sero hanta x roommate!reader

summary: It's Valentine's Day and Sero does his best to keep his horny thoughts to himself. He doesn't succeed.

cws: smut mdni, face sitting, sero hanta is a pussy-eating KING, dirty talk

based on this prompt list

"Wow," Sero whistles, while you teeter on one heel and hop into the other. That dress hugs every inch of you. "Someone’s lookin’ good. Hot date?"

You laugh, and fuck, he’s such an idiot, because the sound travels straight to his dick. He adjusts himself as subtly as he can and goes back to cooking dinner.

"Something like that.” You swipe on lip gloss in the hallway mirror. "He’s a coworker. I might have mentioned him?"

You’ve mentioned him 17 times. Not like Sero’s counting.

"Make sure he treats you right," is all he says instead, doing his best to ignore the cute little blush tearing across your face as you duck out the door.

Alone on Valentine’s Day, he thinks ruefully, settling his long frame on the couch. Alone on Valentine’s Day with a raging hot case of let-me-fuck-you-right-now for his roommate.

He should have turned down being your roommate the minute he saw you on Denki’s phone. If he had, he wouldn’t be this jealous of some random shithead taking you out for Valentine’s Day.

He considers texting Denki just to have someone to commiserate with, but the guy is probably doing his best to woo Jiro and doesn’t need the distraction.

He sparks up a joint and turns on 13 Going on 30 (so he’s a rom-com guy, sue him), trying not to think about how much better this night would be if you were here.

The door clicks a half hour later, followed by the rap of your heels on the ground. You trudge into the room and slump on the couch right next to him.

“He didn’t even show up,” you whisper into the side of his neck, wrapping your arms around him. He feels a few tears hit his collarbone.

Sero Hanta considers himself a pretty even-keeled type of guy, but wanting to punch this dick’s lights' outs shoots to the top of his to-do list.

“Oh honey, what a fuckin’ dickhole.” His hands tighten on your waist. “Doesn’t deserve someone like you, anyway.”

He probably shouldn’t say that, not when he’s rubbing circles on your hip through the material of your dress, the scorching heat of your body against his impossible to ignore. But he's been thinking it for months now, all of his own attempts at dating tossed to the wayside when he realized he just preferred coming home to you.

“No?” You pull away and delicately wipe away unshed tears. He doesn't know why he finds it so cute, this innate desire to preserve what's left of your mascara. “Who does deserve me, Hanta?”

You grab the joint and drag and his mind goes fuzzy. You’ve never outright called him on it like this before.

“Maybe I do angel, ya ever think of that?”

“Yeah?” There’s that megawatt smile of yours, kicking him in the teeth. “You think of me like that, too?”

It’s new territory for the both of you, admitting to the attraction that Sero realizes has been simmering for weeks.

“Yeah. I think of you all the time.” He cups your face and cocks his head. "We doin' this? You gonna let me show you how I'd treat ya on Valentine's Day?"

You roll your eyes at him affectionately. "Cheesy bastard."

He cuts off your laugh with the press of his mouth.

Sero's not normally one to wax poetic, but something about the way your body instantly sinks into his makes his heart lurch. You kiss him like you've been spending your whole life studying how to do it, and it drives him absolutely insane.

"Knew we'd be good together," he says, grinding the curve of his cock into the cleft between your thighs. "Feel how hard I already am, baby? Just from one little kiss."

You groan into his mouth and start pawing at his clothes.

"I know, I know, want you naked too. Don't fuckin' pout, I think you'll like the idea." He repositions the two of you with him lying down on the couch, you straddling his hips. "Remember when you said you've never sat on a guy's face?"

Your eyes darken with excitement. "I remember."

"What if we change that?" He strokes his thumb under the band of your dress, shimmying it over your hips. The pretty red lace covering your pussy makes his breath catch. "Because you know what's gonna happen if we don't?"

He traces the folds of your pussy through your underwear with the pads of his fingers.

"I'm gonna get inside this perfect fuckin' pussy and embarrass myself. Probably come after two pumps like an idiot because she's just so fucking sweet." He pulls your panties down and drags you up to his face. He catches the little whine of insecurity in your throat at the position.

Your pussy is swollen and begging for attention, arousal clinging to your lips like dew.

"Take a fuckin’ seat, baby, ya think I’ve never done this before?"

He molds his hands around the meat of your hips and thighs, and then Sero feasts, sucking and grinding his chin and nose and tongue up into your cunt. You wail and fall forward, holding yourself steady on the arm of the couch. He doesn't care if he has to hold you up himself; he's in heaven between your thighs, the taste and scent of you all he can fucking think about.

You cum quickly, gasping and shuddering above him as he drinks down your orgasm like fucking water.

"Felt good, didn't it?" he prods, biting your inner thigh and soothing it with a kiss. Your shaky nod makes him grin.

Sero sits backs up with you in his lap, wiping the back of his mouth with a forearm and licking at his lips like a dog. He hopes he smells like you for hours.

Black streaks of mascara run under your lashes. He swipes them away with the back of his thumb. "Sorry honey. You worked hard on this makeup, huh? And I'm just making you cry it off."

It's your turn to cut him off with a kiss.

ahhhhh i've written for him ONCE i hope i did him justice

[ivyues]

Sleeves Pulled Back: Stray Kids' reactions to their S/O's s/h scars

if you’re struggling: findahelpline | befrienders

request: “Skz finding out you did s/h or saw your s/h scars…” (i changed it up for some but i hope you like it :3 )

Bang Chan

Chris gently took your hand, his thumb brushing over your wrist as he pulled you to sit with him on the couch.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice laced with concern. “Talk to me, yeah?”

You hesitated, looking away. “It’s nothing, Chris—”

“It’s not nothing.” He shook his head. “I know it’s hard, but I need you to know something, okay?”

You finally met his gaze, and his eyes were full of nothing but love and understanding.

“You can always call me. No matter the time, no matter where I am. Even if I’m in the studio, on tour, in the middle of a meeting – I don’t care. I’ll answer.”

A shaky breath left your lips. “I don’t want to bother you…”

Chris scoffed, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Bother me? Please. I’m an insomniac anyways.” He nudged you lightly, trying to lighten the mood. “Might as well spend my sleepless nights talking to my favorite person, right?”

You let out a small laugh, and his heart swelled with relief. But then, his face turned serious again.

“I mean it,” he said, squeezing your hand. “I don’t want you to go through this alone. And if it helps, why don’t you stay at the dorm for a while? I.N won’t mind, and I’d feel better knowing you’re close.” He hesitated for a moment before continuing, his tone gentle. “And… maybe we can look into getting you someone to talk to—like a therapist? Just so you have more support.”

Your throat tightened, emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

“Okay,” you whispered.

His arms wrapped around you in an instant, holding you as if he could take away all your pain just by being there. “Good,” he murmured into your hair. “We’ll get through this together, yeah?”

Lee Know

You had been reaching for your cup, your sleeve sliding up just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the faint, fresh marks among the old ones on your arm. His heart clenched. His mind raced. But he said nothing – at least, not at first.

Instead, he waited, watching you as you kept talking, pretending like nothing was wrong. But he wasn’t pretending.

When you finally noticed his silence, you frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Lee Know’s eyes flickered to your wrist. “Show me,” he said, voice low.

You blinked, following his gaze, and quickly pulled your sleeve back down.

His jaw tightened. He reached forward, carefully, fingers grazing over your arm. “Don’t do that.”

You shook your head, shifting away slightly. “It’s not a big deal, Minho.”

When you didn’t move, he reached for your wrist, this time with more purpose. His grip was gentle, but firm enough to keep you from pulling away. Slowly, deliberately, he pushed your sleeve up.

The sight of the fresh lines against your skin made something break inside him. He traced them with his thumb, barely touching, as if afraid he might hurt you more.

“Why?” His voice cracked. “You promised…”

Your eyes stung. “I know.”

“Then why?” His gaze was filled with hurt, with love, with something deeper – something that made it impossible to lie.

Tears welled in your eyes, but you bit your lip. “I just… I was overwhelmed. I didn’t know how else to cope.”

Lee Know let out a shaky breath before pulling you into his arms. His grip was tight, as if trying to hold you together when he felt you falling apart.

“You don’t have to do this alone.” he whispered against your hair.

Changbin

The night was late, the kind where the world outside felt distant and made it easy to speak the truths hidden deep inside.

You hesitated, fidgeting with the hem of your sweater. “Binnie…”

He hummed in response, turning his head slightly to look at you. 

“There’s something I want to tell you.” You swallowed, your hands gripping each other. “I used to… self-harm.”

“I don’t do it anymore,” You reassured him quickly, seeing the shock in his face. “But… I won’t lie. Sometimes, when things get really overwhelming, I get scared. Scared that I might—” You took a deep breath. “That I might do it again.”

Changbin exhaled softly, his fingers brushing over yours before taking your hands in his own. He squeezed them gently.

“I appreciate you telling me,” he said, his voice steady but soft. “I know that wasn’t easy.”

“I just… I don’t want to. I don’t plan to. But sometimes, it’s like the thought lingers, you know?”

He nodded, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your palm. “I get it.” He paused for a moment before his eyes lit up with an idea. “It might be stupid… but you my stress ball?”

You blinked at the sudden shift in conversation. You’d seen him use it often – squeezing it absentmindedly when stressed, rolling it between his hands to focus.

“Would you like one too?” he asked. “Not because I think it’ll fix everything, but because… if you ever feel like things are getting too much, maybe it can help. You and I—we can match.”

Something about the idea made my chest ache. It wasn’t just a suggestion; it was his way of saying he wanted to support you, to help you find ways to cope that weren’t harmful. To remind you that you weren't alone.

A small smile formed on your lips. “Matching stress balls, huh?”

Hyunjin

Today, Hyunjin decided to visit you unannounced. "Y/N?" he called out, expecting to hear your voice from the living room, maybe the kitchen. Silence.

He glanced around. Your shoes were by the door. Your phone rested on the couch. You had to be here. Then, faintly, he heard movement from the bathroom.

He approached and knocked lightly. "Hey, you in there?"

No answer.

He knocked again, firmer this time. "Baby?"

Still nothing. But he could hear you. Breathing. Something shifting. Something that didn’t sit right in his gut.

"Okay, I'm coming in," he warned, turning the knob. The door wasn’t locked.

The sight before him made his breath hitch.

You were standing by the sink, your sleeves hastily pushed down, hands shaking slightly as you gripped a damp washcloth. Your eyes went wide, frozen in place.

Then he saw it. The slight redness peeking from under your sleeve. The discarded tissue, faintly stained.

Something sharp twisted in his chest.

He swallowed thickly, willing himself to stay steady. To not let his emotions spill over.

"Y/N," he said softly, stepping closer. You flinched, instinctively taking a step back, but he didn’t stop. 

"Why…" His voice nearly cracked, but he forced himself to stay calm. "Why didn't you tell me?"

You opened your mouth, then closed it. Looking away.

Hyunjin inhaled deeply, blinking away the sting behind his eyes. He couldn’t cry. Not now. This wasn’t about him.

He let out a shaky exhale and, instead of saying anything else, pulled you into him. Holding you. Just holding you.

You were stiff at first, but then – gradually – you melted against him, gripping his hoodie like it was the only thing tethering you to the world.

"I'm here," he whispered into your hair. "Okay? I'm here. Always."

Han

It was late, the dorm quiet except for the soft hum of the heater. You had come over after a long day, curling up on his bed with one of his oversized hoodies. He was playing a melody on his guitar, when he noticed you tugging at your sleeve again.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

You shook your head, forcing a smile. "Just tired."

But when you stretched your arms above your head, your sleeve slipped for just a second. It was enough.

Enough for Han to see the faint but undeniable lines on your wrist.

His heart clenched. "Wait—" He reached for your hand gently, as if you might shatter. You tried to pull away, but he held on. "What… what is this?"

Your breath hitched, and you quickly yanked your sleeve back down. "It's nothing," you whispered, voice barely above a breath.

But Han wasn't buying it. His fingers trembled as he traced over the fabric where the scars were hidden. "No, it's not," he said, his voice breaking. "Why didn’t you say anything?"

Tears welled in your eyes. "Because I didn’t want you to worry. You already have so much on your plate—"

"That doesn’t matter," he interrupted. His gaze was filled with so much emotion it made your chest ache. "You matter. If you're hurting, I want to know. I need to know."

You looked away, ashamed. But Han cupped your face, forcing you to meet his eyes. There was no judgment in them – only pain, only love.

"You don't have to go through this alone," he murmured. "Please… let me help."

Felix

Felix’s fingers traced the ink on your forearm, his touch featherlight as he admired the delicate design. You both sat on the couch, his head resting against your shoulder as he held your arm in his hands, turning it slightly to see the details.

“I never asked before,” he murmured. “Is there a special meaning behind your tattoo?”

You stiffened slightly but forced yourself to relax. You had always known this question would come one day. 

“It covers old scars,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. You didn’t dare to meet his eyes, afraid of what you might find there.

“I… used to struggle a lot. But I didn’t want that to be the first thing people noticed about me. And I wanted to see something beautiful when I looked at my arm.”

Felix didn’t speak right away. Instead, he turned your arm over gently, his thumb grazing over the tattooed skin. You finally lifted your gaze to see his expression, only to find his warm eyes filled with something that looked like both sadness and love.

“You went through that alone?” he asked quietly, his brows furrowed as if the thought of you hurting alone physically pained him.

“I don’t anymore,” you said, giving him a small, reassuring smile. “I’m okay now, Lix.”

He nodded, but you could tell he was still processing. He lifted your arm and pressed a lingering kiss over the inked petals, then another to the inside of your wrist. “I wish I could have been there,” he murmured. “I wish I could have held you through it.”

“You’re here now,” you whispered, reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair from his eyes. “And that’s what matters.”

Seungmin

Upon seeing the scars, Seungmin’s heart clenched, but his face remained calm.

"Y/N," he said softly, his voice soft. "Can we talk about this?"

You hesitated, looking anywhere but him. Shame curled in your stomach, a familiar, bitter weight. "I don’t know," you murmured, trying to tug your sleeve back down.

But Seungmin didn’t let go – he wasn’t forceful, just… present. "You don’t have to tell me everything, but please… let me be here for you", his tone steady

Your lips trembled as you exhaled shakily. "I don’t know how to explain it. Sometimes it just… feels like too much. And this helps."

"I’m not going to tell you to stop," he said carefully. "But I need you to know… you don’t have to do this alone. I’m here. Even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard."

Your throat tightened, and you blinked rapidly to keep the tears at bay. "Aren’t you upset? Or angry?"

He gave you a small, sad smile. "This isn’t about me. Right now, you don’t need my emotions weighing on you—you just need to know you’re not alone."

Later that night, after he made sure you ate something, after he hugged you just tightly enough to let you know he was there, after you fell asleep with your fingers loosely curled around his, Seungmin slipped out of bed and into the bathroom.

He shut the door softly, pressing his hands against the sink, his knuckles turning white. His chest heaved as the weight of what happened finally crashed over him.

Silent tears fell, his shoulders shaking as he stifled his sobs with the back of his sleeve. He hated that you hurt in a way he couldn’t just fix, that he hadn’t noticed sooner. That you had been carrying this pain alone.

I.N

You sat on the dorm floor, your back against the couch, while I.N sprawled out beside you, his head resting comfortably on a pillow. He had been scrolling through his phone, laughing at some ridiculous meme, when his hand absentmindedly reached for yours.

His fingers toyed with the loose sleeve of your hoodie, tugging at it as he always did when he was relaxed. But then – his laughter faded. His grip stilled.

The fabric had slipped up just enough. Just enough for him to see.

I.N’s movements halted. The playful smile on his face faded as his eyes landed on the faint scars that lined your wrist. He blinked, his brows furrowing as his fingers hesitantly traced over the marks. You tensed, but let your arm stay in his hold.

“Y/N…” His voice was barely above a whisper, laced with something you couldn’t quite decipher – concern, sadness, love. “These…”

You swallowed. “They're old. I don’t do it anymore.”

He was silent for a moment, his thumb grazing over the faded scars like he could erase them. Then, finally, he spoke. “I didn’t know.”

“Well, I didn't tell you,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “It’s not who I am anymore.”

He exhaled softly, leaning his forehead against your arm, his breath warm against your skin. “Promise me,” he murmured, “if you ever feel like that again, you’ll talk to me?”

Your heart clenched. You had been used to people seeing the scars and looking away, pretending they weren’t there. Or telling you you just wanted attention. But I.N saw them, acknowledged them, and still looked at you like you were whole.

“I will. Thank you.”

masterlist

[wcnderlnds]

love dust | kwon ji-yong (g dragon)

・❥・summary: jiyong has been your closest friend for many years but what he doesn't know is you like him a lot more than that. ・❥・word count: 1.4k ・❥・warnings: none! ・❥・authors note: first time writing for gd so go easy on me <3

“You should let me borrow this one when you’re finished with it.” Your delicate fingers played around with the rings decorating Jiyong’s hands. His accessory game was always on point — you were always asking if you could borrow the things he wore and he would always very happily oblige. Something about seeing you in the things he wore made him feel things he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

His arm was wrapped around your shoulders as the two of you laid out on the couch in his dressing room, legs stretched out. Jiyong's other hand lay on his stomach where you were playing around with his fingers. It was soothing, putting him in a calm frame of mind before he had to go out and perform later in the day. Nobody could calm him better than you. He gently rested his head on top of yours, squeezing his eyes shut as he laughed softly.

“I should start charging you for the amount of things you take from me,” he joked.

“You’d double your fortune at this rate,” you grinned over at him, tilting your head. “Not my fault you always have the best stuff. Stop being such a style icon and I wouldn’t have to.”

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you. Jiyong’s fingers playing with a strand of your hair, soaking in the quiet. It had always been like this with you. Jiyong was your closest friend — you’d known him before he’d even debuted. Every step of the way you had been by his side. Nobody knew him better than you and vice versa. He had been there at your lowest, you had been there at his. There wasn’t anything you hadn’t experienced together. It was easy to say that without each other, neither of you would be the person you were. It wasn’t often in life people found someone they connected with so easily, so deeply which is why Jiyong could never know how you really felt about him.

Over the last couple of years, your feelings for him had shifted. At first you’d brushed it off as just a crush, a silly little thing that would pass as time went on. Except it didn’t pass. It only got stronger. Every single day it was like a weight on your chest knowing that you could never tell him. Not only would it be humiliating but he definitely wouldn’t feel the same and that would be it. The friendship would be over and he’d be out of your life.

A sigh escaped your lips before you could even realise. Immediately, it caught Jiyong’s attention. His eyes that had been closed now opening to look at you with concern. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about me,” you assured him. He looked at you as if he was examining you, trying to figure out if you were lying to him but as he opened his mouth to speak, the door to the room opened.

Daesung and Youngbae walked in, laughing at something. Their eyes caught the position the two of you were in, mischievous grins slowly creeping onto their faces. Oh no. You know what was coming next. It had been like this for years now. They’d catch you and Jiyong cuddling or being close to each other and never let either of you live it down.

“Did we interrupt something?” Daesung raised a brow. Jiyong rolled his eyes, sitting up with you and giving his friend the middle finger.

“I think we did. You know, next time put a sock on the door or something so we know you’re busy,” Youngbae teased. Your cheeks flushed red as you hid your face in your hands. This only caused the two men to laugh.

Jiyong got to his feet, holding his hand out to help you to yours. “You two are a pain in my ass.” He turned to you, his hand lingering on yours for a beat longer than normal. “I need to go get ready but I’ll see you after the show? We can go get food or something.”

You simply nodded your head, waving goodbye as he and Youngbae left the room. Daesung remained behind, looking at you with a soft smile. “You should tell him, you know.”

“Huh?”

“You should tell Jiyong how you feel.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” you said, trying to hide the blush on your cheeks. How had Daesung even figured it out? He really was more attentive than you gave him credit for.

“Sure but I’m just saying, I think you’d be pleasantly surprised if you told him,” Daesung shot a wink your way, running out of the room to meet up with his friends.

Now, what the hell did that mean?

——

The show had gone amazing. It was like Jiyong had never been gone. Each show he performed he got more and more confident, G Dragon coming out in full force. Honestly, seeing him on stage and fully embracing his G Dragon person was hot as hell. Nobody did it like him. He was the king of K Pop for a reason.

You had slid away to the dressing room as the show ended, giving the three boys time to thank the crew. It was Taeyang’s tour but you knew how much all of them appreciated the people who helped them. It was one of the most endearing qualities — it’s what made them some of the most loved boys in the industry.

The door to the room opened and in came Jiyong. He hand a towel in his hand, dabbing at the sweat on his face. The second he laid eyes on you, he smiled. His heartbeat speeding up everytime he looked at you. He had it bad. So damn bad.

“You did so good out there!” You beamed, throwing your arms around him in a hug. Without hesitation, he dropped the towel, wrapping his arms around you. If he could keep you this close to him forever, he would. Hopefully you couldn’t feel how hard his heart was beating right now. The best feeling in the world was you waiting for him after a show. It felt like he was on cloud nine knowing that he had the most supportive, loyal and kind person by his side.

He pulled back, only slightly, his hot breath fanning across your face. You couldn’t place the look in his eyes but it cause a shiver to run down your spine. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “Couldn’t do any of it without you.”

Time seemed to stand still as you locked eyes with each other. Was this it? Was this the right moment to tell him how you felt? 

“Jiyong, I….” You started but he cut you off.

“I’m sorry for cutting you off, I need to say something to you and if I don’t do it now, I never will,” he cupped your cheek, taking a deep breath as he found the words that had been on the tip of his tongue for so long now. “I’m crazy about you. I have been for a very long time but you are so important to me that I didn’t want to ruin the friendship. I can’t lie to myself or you anymore. I understand if you don’t feel the same way but I owed it to myself to at least tell you.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you listened to his soft, rushed words. You could tell how nervous he was, how much he wanted to probably run out of the door and pretend he never said anything but he didn’t. He was stood here being brave so you had to be too. “Jiyong, I’m crazy about you, too. You drive me insane. It’s kind of terrifying how much I like you as more than a friend. I just… didn’t think you’d feel the same so I never said anything.”

“What? Are you crazy? Why wouldn’t I feel the same? You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met.”

“You’re biased.”

“Yeah, well,” he grinned one of those signature Jiyong grins. His eyes flickered down to your lips then back to your eyes as if asking for permission. You nodded your head and that was all he needed. He leaned forward, closing the distance to meet your lips. The kiss was gentle, a declaration of his feelings for you without actually giving them words.

It was short and sweet. It was perfect. 

Pulling back, he smiled at you. Seeing you stood there with your flushed cheeks and nervous smile, he felt like he could burst from joy. He was so head over heels for you. “Come on,” he said, linking his fingers with yours. “I believe I promised you some food.”

But before he could pull you off, you wrapped your hand around the back of his neck and pulled him back down to meet your lips. Food could wait for now.

taglist (ask to be added): @ldydeath

[gf2bellamy]

hi lovely

i was contemplating another one too i hope this doesn’t stress you out !! (please take your time, im quite a patient person) also it’s 3am rn i woke up in the middle of the night so yay

i dont know if it would work but one where it’s a secret relationship but randomly they (reader n spencer) just say eff it and go FULL pda (you can decide whether it’s like holding hands, making out or anything in between !!) in the bullpen / on the jet and everyone else just goes CRAZY

if it doesn’t work just ignore. i’ll get better ideas soon TRUST

yours truly

- 🐚

indifferent — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: mention of being tired from a case, a/n: HIII 🐚 sorry if this took so long i'm not even gonna lie when i tell you i rewrote this like 6 times , i gave it my best - i still hope you like this <3333

The jet hummed softly beneath you as you sank into your seat, exhaustion clinging to you. The case had drained you—physically, mentally and emotionally. You sighed, letting your body melt into the plush leather, barely holding yourself upright.

“I’m so tired,” you mumbled, eyes already half-lidded as you shifted in search of a comfortable position.

Just as your eyes fluttered shut, you heard the familiar sound of movement nearby. You cracked one eye open to see Spencer standing over you, carefully stowing your go-bag into the overhead compartment.

“It’s a long flight. You should sleep,” he said softly, settling beside you.

You hummed in response, too tired to argue. You felt the warmth of him beside you before you even opened your eyes again. His hand found your thigh without hesitation, his thumb beginning to trace slow, soothing circles through the fabric of your pants.

It was muscle memory at this point, something he did without thinking—whether you were curled up on the couch at home, sitting together in a car, or now, here, on the jet.

You sighed, leaning your head back against the seat, letting your body sink further into the soft leather. The jet was quiet, just the two of you. You glanced at Spencer, who mirrored your movement, his head resting against the seat, his warm brown eyes searching yours with a softness that made your heart flutter.

Neither of you spoke for a moment. The silence was comfortable.

With a sleepy smile, you mumbled, “Do you want to come over tonight?”

Spencer’s lips quirked up at the corners, a faint smile tugging at his tired features. Without hesitation, he nodded. That was all the confirmation you needed, and a warmth spread through your chest.

He reached up, his fingers barely brushing against your cheek as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The soft touch sent a shiver through you, and you leaned into it, resting your head on his shoulder.

The quiet was interrupted by the sound of footsteps—the rest of the team making their way onto the jet. But Spencer didn’t move his hand from your thigh; his fingers continued to trace gentle patterns through the fabric. You turned to look at him in surprise, but he just smiled back at you, an expression so warm it made your heart skip a beat.

The others plopped into their seats in front of you, with Derek and Emily settling into the row just across from you.

“I’m so exhausted,” Emily sighed dramatically, rubbing her temples as she stared at the two of you. Her eyes lingered for a moment longer than necessary, clearly surprised by your closeness, the way you were cuddled together so easily. Derek raised an eyebrow, a knowing grin tugging at his lips.

Even Hotch and Rossi, making their way toward their seats at the back, glanced up quickly, their eyes meeting briefly before they turned away. But no one said anything.

Half an hour passed, and you still hadn’t managed to fall asleep. You sighed loudly, letting your head slump slightly against Spencer’s shoulder in frustration. It felt like your body wanted to rest, but your mind just wouldn’t quiet down.

Spencer noticed the shift in your mood. He looked down at you, brow furrowing slightly.

“Can’t fall asleep?” he asked, his voice soft, laced with concern.

You mumbled a tired “No...” and sighed again.

Spencer was already processing this, his brain working overtime, as it often did. His gaze drifted away for a moment and then, just like that, he launched into his usual ramble.

“You know, water is really effective for helping people fall asleep,” he began, tilting his head slightly. “It’s the hydration, really. It helps regulate your body’s temperature and keeps your nervous system functioning properly, which is essential for sleep. The brain needs hydration to produce melatonin. Oh, and the temperature of the water matters, too! Too cold or too hot, and it’ll have the opposite effect. Ideally, you want it lukewarm.”

You couldn’t help but smile, even in your tired state. You always loved how he would share his knowledge, no matter how random the topic.

He didn’t seem to notice how you were still half-dazed, his voice continuing as he leaned in slightly.

“And if you drink it right before bed, it helps slow down the body’s metabolism, which prepares you for sleep.”

"I didn't know that." You smiled, leaning into his shoulder again, your hand finding his.

“You want some water?” Spencer asked, his voice softer now.

You nodded sleepily. “Yeah... that sounds nice.”

Emily crossed her arms, her gaze flicking toward the direction Spencer had walked off in before settling back on you with a knowing smirk.

“Oh, come on,” she scoffed, tilting her head. “We’re not that oblivious.”

You blinked innocently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Derek, who had been staring out the window with his headphones on just moments ago, now turned his full attention to you, an amused grin spreading across his face. He pulled his headphones down around his neck and glanced between you and Emily.

“So, let me get this straight,” Derek said, leaning forward slightly. “You expect us to believe that you and Pretty Boy over there just casually cuddle up on the jet like that?” He raised an eyebrow. “And that little thigh-touching thing? That’s just friendly behavior?”

Your face warmed, but you did your best to keep your expression neutral. “We were tired,” you reasoned.

Emily snorted. “Right. And I suppose if I go back there and ask Spencer, he’ll say the exact same thing?”

Your silence was enough of an answer.

Derek let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Man, I gotta say, I’m actually impressed. I didn’t think Reid of all people could pull off a secret relationship for this long.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. Before you could respond, Spencer returned, holding a bottle of water in one hand and—predictably—a cup of coffee in the other. He slid back into his seat beside you, handing you the water with a small smile.

“Here, lukewarm. It’s the best temperature for—”

“Melatonin production, hydration, metabolism... I was listening, Doctor Reid. Thank you.” You shrugged with a wink, fully aware of how much he loved to share his knowledge.

Spencer’s eyes brightened as you took the bottle from him and sipped it. He always worried people weren’t paying attention, and it seemed like you’d just passed his test.

With a soft smile, he leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to your temple, his lips lingering for just a moment too long before he reluctantly pulled away.

He turned back to face the rest of the team, his posture stiffening slightly as his gaze met Derek’s raised eyebrow and Emily’s wide, disbelieving eyes.

You could feel Spencer tense up beside you, and you couldn’t help but grin, leaning slightly against his shoulder as you watched the reactions unfold.

Derek chuckled, his disbelief evident. “Wow... Since when are you two...?” He trailed off, clearly caught off guard.

You tilted your head slightly, an innocent smile playing at the corners of your lips. The whole team had always been close, but no one had ever suspected that you and Spencer had been quietly keeping a secret relationship. Of course, that secret wasn’t exactly a secret anymore.

You could feel the gaze of Rossi and Hotch from across the aisle, both men just as silent but sizing up the situation. You almost swore you saw Rossi’s lips twitching in amusement.

Maybe they’d already known, maybe they’d suspected it.

"Penelope is going to have a field day with this," Emily muttered under her breath, her eyes narrowing as she gave you a pointed look.

You smiled. Penelope would certainly have plenty of fun with this.

Under the table, your hand reached for Spencer’s, fingers intertwining gently as you squeezed his hand in reassurance.

Derek let out another low chuckle, clearly amused. “You two have been sneaking around long enough. I should’ve seen this coming.”

You turned to Derek, narrowing your eyes playfully. “We didn’t exactly sneak around, Derek. We just weren’t broadcasting it to the whole world.”

Derek’s grin turned mischievous again. “Well, I’ll say this much... if you two are gonna go public, I want an invite to the wedding.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging Spencer with your shoulder. “You’re impossible, Derek.”

You let out a quiet, playful sigh, shrugging your shoulder casually as you twirled Spencer's fingers between your own.

You glanced up, meeting Hotch’s usually stoic eyes. For a brief second, you swore you saw the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

And with that, the playful teasing continued, but you didn’t mind. Because, with Spencer next to you, everything felt exactly as it should.

[capquinn]

omgomg that clip of quinn congratulating his teammates after the game.. i had a thought. quinn is SO the type to always have his hand on your ass.. like always. and he would give it a little slap when he’s walking past you URGH

Exactly. Quinn’s not even thinking about it half the time — it’s just where his hands go.

When you’re standing at the sink brushing your teeth, Quinn steps in behind you, close and unhurried. His arms loop lazily around your waist, chin finding its place on your shoulder as he waits for his turn. His hands settle instinctively, one resting low on your stomach, the other drifting lower, palm smoothing over the curve of your ass. Just resting. Not moving, not squeezing — just there, like it belongs, like he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it.

Or when you’re curled up on the couch, legs tangled together, his arm draped over your waist. His hand finds its place, warm and steady, palm resting on the curve of your ass — easy, familiar. And if you shift, even think about moving, his fingers tighten, giving you a slow, deliberate squeeze — silent, but clear: stay right there.

And then there are the moments when it’s deliberate. When he steps in behind you in the kitchen, hands finding your waist as he squeezes past, chest skimming your back, his touch warm and steady. His fingers trail lower, grazing your hip before giving your ass a light, absentminded tap with a quiet, "‘scuse me, baby."

And then there are the times he’s really aware of it. When he’s in a mood — smug, a little extra... fond — and you walk past him, and he has to swat at your ass. Playful, casual, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s testing the waters, seeing if he can get a reaction. His palm connects with a light smack, fingers curling briefly before retreating, and when you whirl around, half-heartedly scandalised, he’s already leaning back against the counter, grinning, all knowing like, "what? My hand slipped."

And then, if you roll your eyes, turn to walk away — another tap, right as you take your next step. Just a little sharper, a little more deliberate. Like he’s not quite finished with you yet.

And God forbid you ever tease him back because the second you get playful with it, he’s doubling down. His hands are everywhere. Kneading at your hips when he pulls you in close, fingers squeezing at your thighs when you sit beside him, broad palms smoothing over your waist before trailing lower, warm and slow, just because he can. Just because it's you. He lingers when he touches you, deliberate and teasing, rubbing lazy circles over the curve of your ass, waiting to see how long it takes before you swat him away (which, let’s be honest, you never do).

[koyagifs]

𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮

pairing: hongjoong x reader ft. seonghwa au: idol | established relationship genre: fluff word count: 1.6 k synopsis: he was nervous - of course he was. He was finally proposing to the love of his life. warning(s): fluff, sweet tooth rotting - literally will get cavities

Hongjoong sat at his studio desk, fingers tapping anxiously on its surface as his thoughts raced in every direction. Behind him, Seonghwa lounged on the couch, lazily flipping through his phone, though his occasional glances at Hongjoong betrayed his amusement at his friend’s evident panic.

Valentine's Day was just around the corner, and for the first time in years, Hongjoong felt completely out of his depth. Each year since you’d been together, he had poured his heart and soul into creating something special for you. And each year, he had managed to outdo himself—a handmade photo album with a song he’d written for you, a surprise getaway to your dream destination, even an art piece that took him weeks to complete.

But now, as the holiday loomed closer, he had no idea how to top any of it.

In his hands, he held a small velvet box, its deep navy hue rich and timeless. Inside was the ring he had carefully picked out for you on your very first anniversary together—a token of his love and a promise he hadn’t spoken aloud just yet.

He had always known he was going to marry you. From the moment you came into his life, everything had shifted, like his world had suddenly clicked into place. You had a way of grounding him when his mind raced too far ahead, of inspiring him when he felt lost, and of loving him so completely it left him breathless.

The thought of proposing had been on his mind for so long that it almost felt surreal to finally be here. It wasn’t just about the ring or the act of asking—it was about what it meant. A future with you. A lifetime of love, laughter, and the kind of partnership he’d always dreamed of.

“You’re overthinking this, Hongjoong. She’s going to love it,” Seonghwa said casually, barely glancing up from his phone as he lounged on the couch in the corner of the studio.

Hongjoong, however, was far from convinced. He stood in the middle of the room, pacing back and forth, the small velvet ring box clutched tightly in his hands. “But what if it’s not enough? What if it’s too simple? What if—”

“Joong,” Seonghwa interrupted, finally putting his phone down and sitting up to give him a pointed look. “It’s not about how elaborate the proposal is. It’s about you two. About the fact that you’re asking her to spend the rest of her life with you. That’s already perfect enough.”

Hongjoong stopped pacing and turned to face Seonghwa, his brow furrowed. “But this is such a big deal, Hwa. I’ve been planning this for so long, and I just want it to be everything she’s ever dreamed of.”

Seonghwa’s expression softened as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Hongjoong, you’ve been in love with her since the moment you met her. You’ve shown her every single day how much she means to you. She’s not going to care about the details—she’s going to care about the fact that it’s you asking her. That’s what makes it special.”

Hongjoong stared at the velvet box in his hands, turning it over slowly. He knew Seonghwa was right, but the nerves bubbling in his chest wouldn’t settle. He had always been a perfectionist, and this moment felt like it had to live up to every dream he’d ever imagined for the two of you.

Seonghwa stood and crossed the room, placing a hand on Hongjoong’s shoulder. “You’re ready for this, Joong. Stop doubting yourself. She’s going to say yes, and it’s going to be one of the best moments of both of your lives.”

Hongjoong exhaled deeply, some of the tension leaving his body. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” Seonghwa said with a grin. “And if you don’t stop freaking out, I might just propose for you.”

That earned a laugh from Hongjoong, who finally cracked a smile. “Alright, alright, I’ll calm down. Thanks, Hwa.”

“Anytime,” Seonghwa replied, giving his shoulder a squeeze before heading back to the couch. “Now, go rehearse whatever speech you’ve got planned. Not that you’ll need it—she’s going to be too busy saying yes to care.”

Hongjoong chuckled, his nerves replaced by a growing sense of excitement. Seonghwa was right. This wasn’t about perfection—it was about the love he shared with you. And that, he knew, was more than enough.

➴ [ 𝒗𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔 𝒅𝒂𝒚 ]

Yunho and Yeosang were masters of distraction, effortlessly keeping you entertained as Seonghwa and Hongjoong worked behind the scenes. The three of you were out for what you believed was just a casual hangout—Yunho had suggested lunch at your favorite café, and Yeosang, ever the conspirator, insisted on checking out the new bookstore across the street. You didn’t suspect a thing, though you couldn’t help but wonder why they seemed so intent on filling every moment with plans. You wanted nothing more then to just spend the day with your boyfriend that finally had a day off.

Meanwhile, back at your shared apartment, Seonghwa and Hongjoong were hard at work. The once-cozy living space had been transformed into a romantic wonderland. Soft fairy lights hung across the walls, casting a warm, golden glow. Flower petals on the ground into a heart shape, their sweet scent filling the air. Candles flickered softly on every available surface, and a playlist of songs that held special meaning for you and Hongjoong played quietly in the background. Heart shaped balloons filled the air, and the final piece : will you marry me letters.

“Careful with that,” Seonghwa muttered as Hongjoong adjusted his tie.

“I know, I know,” Hongjoong replied, rubbing his hand together. “This has to be perfect.”

“It is,” Seonghwa assured him, his tone calm and encouraging. “She’s going to love it. Stop second-guessing yourself.”

Hongjoong nodded, taking a deep breath to steady himself. This moment had been months in the making, and with each passing second, his excitement—and nerves—grew.

Just as Seonghwa lit the last candle, Hongjoong’s phone buzzed with a message from Yunho: We’re heading back now. Be ready!

“They’re on their way,” Hongjoong said, his voice tight with anticipation.

Seonghwa clapped him on the back. “You’ve got this. Take a deep breath and remember—this is about the two of you. Nothing else matters.”

As the sound of the front door opening reached their ears, Hongjoong took his place by the table, the velvet box now resting in his hand. Seonghwa slipped off to the side, giving him space for the moment that was about to unfold.

When you stepped into the apartment, the sight before you took your breath away. The soft glow of the lights, the warmth of the candles, and the unmistakable effort that had gone into creating this magical atmosphere left you speechless.

You were in awe as you stepped into the apartment, your breath catching in your throat as your eyes scanned the transformed space. The soft, golden glow of the fairy lights, the flickering warmth of the candles, the delicate arrangements of your favorite flowers—it was all so beautiful, so intimate, and so perfectly you.

Your steps faltered as tears stung your eyes, the overwhelming wave of love and effort behind it all sinking in. “Oh my God…” you whispered, your voice trembling as you took it all in.

Standing in the middle of it all was Hongjoong, looking as nervous as he did radiant. His hands fidgeted slightly, but his gaze on you was steady, filled with so much love it made your chest ache.

“Joong…” you managed, your voice thick with emotion. “What is this?”

He stepped forward slowly, meeting you halfway, the small velvet box cradled carefully in his trembling hand. The sight of it made your breath hitch, and before you could stop them, tears spilled over, streaming freely down your cheeks.

Hongjoong dropped to his knees in front of you, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might leap out of his chest. His own tears threatened to fall, his emotions teetering on the edge as he looked up at you with a gaze so full of love it nearly broke him.

“I…” he began, his voice catching as he swallowed hard, trying to steady himself. His fingers tightened around the box as he took a deep breath, gathering his courage. “I had this whole speech planned, but now that you’re here, I can’t even think straight.”

You let out a watery laugh, your hands coming up to cover your mouth as you continued to cry, happiness spilling out of you in waves.

Hongjoong smiled through his tears, his voice trembling as he spoke again. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long, Yn. From the day you walked into my life, you’ve made everything brighter, everything better. You’ve been my partner, my muse, my everything. And all I want is to spend the rest of my life showing you just how much I love you.”

He opened the velvet box with shaky hands, revealing the ring you could already tell had been chosen with so much thought and care. The sight of it made your heart swell, your tears falling even faster.

“Will you marry me?” he asked, his voice breaking slightly as his own emotions finally spilled over, tears slipping down his cheeks.

You couldn’t speak for a moment, overwhelmed by the love and vulnerability in his voice. All you could do was nod, furiously and repeatedly, as you finally found your voice through your sobs. “Yes, Joong, yes!”

A relieved laugh escaped him as he slipped the ring onto your finger, his hands trembling even more than before. The moment it was in place, he stood, pulling you into his arms and holding you as tightly as he could.

“I love you,” he whispered into your hair, his voice thick with emotion.

“I love you too,” you replied, your voice muffled against his chest as you clung to him, your tears soaking into his shirt.

[rafesslxt]

unknown number

pt. 1/2

SUMMARY: not only you are surprised when you get a drunk text from your brother that you should pick him up from a party - Topper's just as shocked as you are.

WARNINGS: Thornton!reader, brothers best friend trope, bickering, tension, quick deep talk with Topper

WORD COUNT: 1,7k

NOTE: english is not my first language | thank‘s to everyone for reading and supporting, comments and - are highly apprecaiated <3

🥥 🍋‍🟩 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼 🥭 🍍

Your body tried to make its way through the sweaty crowd dancing and drinking around you, the air thick with the scent of weed and expensive perfume. This wasn't on your agenda for tonight, getting your drunk brother out of a party, that's for sure.

"Hey sis, can u get me? I'm drunk as hell."

You weren't surprised, though. After Sarah had ditched him for John B, which was more than understandable for you but hey – Topper never wanted to listen to your advice, he seemed to try drowning the pain and hurt ego away by drinking and smoking.

The house you currently were in was familiar to you. Since Sarah's your best friend you spend a lot of time here but never during these party's, cause most of the time Rafe was the host and well - let's just say you tried to avoid any chance of being in a room with him together.

Because besides the hatred for their sister's trying to live the pogue life, Topper and Rafe had one thing more in common. They fell for the sister of their best friend. The only problem was, that Rafe never acted on his feeling. While Topper may be a complete idiot, he at least showed Sarah some kind of feelings, trying to wrap her around his fingers. But for Rafe? Bickering and hating was his way.

But Rafe apparently had a new way of drawing you into his space.

"Hey, did you see Topper?" You asked a guy which's name you could never remember no matter how often your brother tried to tell you. You just knew he often hang with them together. "No, sorry. Ask Rafe, he was with him a while ago." You instantly rolled your eyes but smiled at him and nodded in a way that was supposed to tell him 'thank you'.

You made your way further through the people until you reached the living room where you saw Rafe sitting on the couch, talking to two girls on either side of him.

Not bothering that you may interrupted something, you walked up behind him, not even caring enough to wait until he might realize you were standing behind him. "Have you seen my brother? He told me to come pick him up."

You looked down at his head which bend until it laid against the backrest, his pretty blue eyes meeting yours. Pretty ? No, you meant blue. Just blue.

"Oh If it isn't the princess of the Pogues, gracing us with her presence this night.", his voice dripped with sarcasm. "And to what do we owe this unexpected visit?" You rolled your eyes at his irritating words and crossed your arms in front of your chest. "Did you see Topper, Rafe?", you repeated.

His smile widened before he sat upright again, took a beer that was probably his from the desk, turned around and locked eyes with you again, walking around the couch towards you.

"Someone's in a grumpy mood today." he remarked, taking a sip of his beer. "Rafe If you don't-" "No need to be so uptight princess. The party just stared." You scoffed. "Well, apparently not If my brother's texting me to come pick his drunk ass up."

"Give him some time, he's trying to heal from a heartbreak. I mean I told him my sister is never hanging around for long but- well you know him. Had to try for himself."

You were slowly getting tired of the conversation and Rafe seemed to notice. "And as for where your brother is; I saw him with Kelce in the kitchen a few minutes ago. Just before you arrived, I think."

Without giving him a second more of your time, you turned around, walking towards the kitchen. Why didn't he just tell you 'Hey, Topper is in the kitchen.' ? Why does he always have to bicker with you and beat around the bush. Ugh.

Sarah always said he liked you but before Rafe Cameron actually had serious feelings for you or even anyone, hell would freeze over.

You walked into the kitchen of the Cameron's, immediately spotting your brother and Kelce, laughing loudly between some shots they were taking.

"Wow. You're really setting the bar lower and lower." You scoffed, making their heads turn towards you. "Y/n? What are you doing here? Aren't you with your little friends?" "Oh, hey pipsqueak." Kelce chuckled from behind Topper, waving at you with a drunken grin.

"Come on Topper, I don't have all night." I sighed, already about to leave the kitchen when he looked at me as If I had torn apart his favorite teddy bear apart that he hid under his bed whenever someone came over. "What the hell are you talking about?" "What the hell do you mean what the hell I'm talking about? You texted me to come pick you up because you're too drunk."

Just as he was about to answer, Rafe entered the kitchen and stood beside you. "Topper, why don't you listen to your sister and go with her, you've had enough for tonight."

Feeling betrayed, Topper was too stunned to speak, looking at Kelce for some backup. "Hey man don't get me into this." he replied to his look, throwing up his hands and spilling some of the liquid that was inside his shot glass.

"I didn't text you!" he exclaimed, reached into his pocket and searching for his phone. "Shit.. can't find it." You rolled your eyes, your patience slowly but clearly wearing off. "Topper.." "I swear I didn't!", he swore while continuing to search the insides of his few pockets. "Damn no really, where is it?", he asked himself.

"Come on man." Kelce chuckled and threw an arm around his friend, slowly guiding him outside the kitchen and towards the front door where you parked your car.

You stepped aside to let them pass, your gaze landing on Rafe who was already looking at you, licking his bottom lip before speaking. "Here." He reached into his pocket and handed you Topper's phone. "What? Why do you have my brother's phone ?", you asked him, as It didn't hit you yet what was going in.

"Thought he might need someone to pick him up before he would be a complete mess.", he chuckled, shrugging his shoulders and looking away for a short moment.

Your eyebrows shot up as the realization finally hit you."You texted me to come pick him up? Why would you do that?" He chuckled and looked down at you. " Like I said; I was worried about my friend." "Bullshit.", you called him out right away. "If you were worried about him, you would have told me where he was instead of beating around the bush."

"Just wanted some conversation." he replied simply, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes while doing so, trying not to let him get under your skin. It would only please him.

"Good night, Rafe." you smiled at him before turning around and pushing through sweaty crowd again, reaching your car where Kelce and Topper were already waiting for you.

You pressed the little button on your car key, allowing them to get in while you were still a few meters away. Kelce jumped into the back seat, and Topper settled next to you in the front.

You slid behind the wheel and closed your door, glancing over your shoulder at Topper’s friend. “Should I drive you home too?” you asked, reaching for your seatbelt and securing it right after.

“Sure thing, pipsqueak,” he grinned, his eyes heavy and his body slumping down onto the back seat. You rolled your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time in the last thirty minutes and started the engine, pulling away from the property.

A few minutes into the drive, you looked over to your right. “You’re lucky. Mom and Dad aren’t home tonight,” you smirked slowly, trying to lighten the mood since he was still your annoying brother. Annoying, but family.

A scoff escaped his lips as he stared out the window. “As if they’re ever home.” 

You sighed quietly, shrugging your shoulders. “Well, it’s still better than having to explain why you’re drunk and high.” 

“They wouldn’t understand anyway. They never do. All they do is scream and complain. They don’t care.” He turned his head toward you, studying your face. “But honestly, I don’t know which one of us they’re more disappointed in,” he chuckled.

“Yeah… Mom’s worried I’m drinking myself into a coma, while Dad is worried you’ll run off with Maybank or some other pogue.” The car fell silent for a moment before you both erupted into unexpected laughter. 

"Honestly, I don’t know which one is worse,” you giggled, gripping the wheel a little tighter as you turned onto your street. "Not sure who's setting the bar lower now, huh?" Topper smirked.

“I guess we should take him with us tonight before his parents have a heart attack,” you suggested, nodding toward Kelce, who was snoring in the back seat.

“Yeah…” he glanced at his friend and then back at you. “Thank you for picking me up, even though I didn’t text you. It’s good to know I can still count on you.” He smiled softly at you, placing his hand on your shoulder.

"No problem, Topper." you smiled back at him before turning off your car and finally parked in your garage. "Let‘s get him inside.", you grinned, eager to get out like Topper, when your phone suddenly vibrated in your purse.

Hm, probably the pogues asking If everything‘s alright after you left so quick with only telling them it‘s an 'family emergency'.

You opened your little white purse Sarah had given you on your last birthday and rummaged through it, fishing out your phone. You had a few messages from JJ and Sarah, asking you when - wait.

What was that? A message by an unknown number.

unknown number

i took the liberty of grabbing your number while I had the chance to.

was nice seeing you tonight, hot and bothered like always..

sweets dreams, angel.

xx rafe

That son of a - wait, why were you smiling together with your heart beating faster ?

masterlist | taglist | navigation | valentines day special

tags: @supernaturaldawning @cardibre91 @aegonsslxt @juliet-017

xoxo sarah <3

[miedei]

sick day

roommate!spencer is sick (and lovely)

a/n: wrote this in a fugue state i think, just couldn't get the thought of being spencer's roommate out of my head

cw: best friends who definitely don't love each other noooo why would you say that, spencer is sick and annoying but also the best

wc: 2k

mlist

(reblogs are the only way to promote fics on tumblr! please reblog if you enjoyed it :) )

Living with Spencer Reid is usually wonderful. He’s relatively neat, but messy enough that you don’t have to walk on eggshells around him. He’s always willing to recommend you a new read, he doesn’t judge you when you spend an entire day slumped on the couch, and is always up to help you stress bake. 

It’s decidedly wonderful, until it’s not. A week into your living together, you’d realised what a workaholic he was. After the first time you’d caught him asleep on top of paperwork in the living room, you’d understood how much of a pain Spencer Reid really can be. 

Unfortunately, today is one of those days. Spencer returned from a case last night, and the moment you’d seen the slump in his shoulders, you knew you were going to have to work from home today. 

“You really don’t have to stay home. I don’t even have to stay home! I’m seriously not sick, I swear!” His voice is low, as if attempting to mask the rasp in it. It doesn’t work.

His rambling doesn’t cease, not the entire time you steer him away from the front door and into the living room. 

“Yeah? Spence, do you even remember the last time you got sick? I came home to find you lying on the dining table! I’m not going to leave and come back to you trying to climb out of the window or something.” You deadpan, watching him cross his arm and grumble something about ‘elevating the upper body’, and ‘actually very good for the immune system’. 

Having shoved him not-too-lightly onto the couch, you stand with your arms crossed, eyes narrowed on him.

“I can’t believe you were going to go to work! Living with you is like living with a child sometimes, god. You know you would have been sent home straight away, look at you.” You gesture wildly at him. 

He’s a pathetic sight, curled up on the couch looking distinctly sorry for himself. His hair is limp, flat against his scalp, his weak limbs shoved haphazardly in a button down and slacks. He hasn’t even knotted his tie, leaving it hanging loosely around his neck. 

Grabbing his phone out of his bag, you thrust it towards him. 

“Call your boss and tell him you need a sick day. You said it yourself, it’s just paperwork today, right? You can take a day off once in a while, Spence, it won’t kill you.�� Once finished, you stomp out of the room, heading to his bedroom to grab him some clothes. Surveying his closet, you grab one of his Caltech hoodies and a pair of sweatpants, grinning to yourself when you hear his hoarse voice on the phone. 

As you walk back into the living room, he’s settled in, clearly resigned to his fate. 

“Yeah, Hotch, I need the day off. I’m sorry, I’m just- Oh. It’s okay? You’re sure? Um, okay. Thanks Hotch.” He hangs up, his eyebrows pinched as if he’s loath to admit you were right. 

You can’t help it, snickering as you dump the sweats and hoodie on his chest. 

“I told you so.”

“You’re so mean to me.” 

It’s nice, spending a day with Spencer like this, even with how whiny he is. Sitting at the desk in the living room, you’re not being incredibly productive, but Spencer’s fever-induced rambles more than make up for it. 

“So, some moron made a blog called ‘What Would Carl Sagan Do?’, and Garcia - remember her, my coworker? She showed it to me, and oh my god, it’s so ridiculous! I mean, to start, all the entries were lifted from different sci-fi movies and books, and they were all so inaccurate, like, ‘The Martian Chronicles’ were good, but it’s been debunked so many times! Carl Sagan debunked it!”

He’s laying on his back on the couch, slender fingers waving in the air above him, eyes lidded as he speaks animatedly. 

“Yeah? What was wrong about it?” You rise from the desk chair, heading into the kitchen. “Also, do you want tea?”

His voice softens, speaking slower as he answers your question. “Yeah, that black tea you brought home last week, please.”

You can hear the moment he slips back into his rant, words growing more and more spirited as he continues to rail against whatever that blog was. Puttering around the cramped kitchen, you let his words roll over you, balancing two mugs and a plate in your hands. 

He doesn’t stop speaking, but flashes you a grateful smile as he takes a mug from you, swiping a cookie from the plate before delving back into the topic at hand.

“So, Bradbury, and a lot of the other sci-fi writers of the time, believed that colonisation of Mars would be possible within the 20th century. And then, in 1960, Carl Sagan, along with a bunch of other astronomers, discovered that Mars doesn’t have an atmosphere, so humans living there long term is virtually impossible without a huge improvement in technology, which probably won't happen until the latter half of the 21st century. And this moron with a blog is pretending like Sagan wouldn’t care, and that he would advocate for irresponsible space travel and I hate him.” 

He finishes with a huff, taking a large gulp of tea and sitting up against the couch. His eyes are hazy with exhaustion, eyelids drooping as he looks at you. You can’t help but giggle. He looks adorably dishevelled, and his eyebrows pinching together at your laughter only intensifies it.

“What? Why are you laughing?”

“I’m- I’m sorry Spence, you just look really cute right now, like you’re going to fall asleep.” You can barely get it out, body shaking with mirth. His eyebrows furrow further, a slight pout forming on his lips. 

His attempts to get you to stop laughing go unanswered, and he huffs once more, crossing his arms and settling against the couch cushions. 

It’s the late afternoon when a knock on the door stirs you from your reverie. Spencer is sitting next to you, your legs slung over his lap as he leans back, eyes trained on The Fellowship of the Ring on the television as his hands tap out something on your calves. 

“Are you expecting anyone?” He shakes his head no, not averting his gaze from the screen. 

You sigh, jostling his shoulder. 

“Spence. Spence, can you go get the door? It’s probably a salesman or something.” 

He hums, shaking his head once more. 

“Can’t. Too sick.”

You groan, tipping your head back in frustration before hauling yourself off the couch, flicking his shoulder as you walk past.

“You’re infuriating, you know that?” His only response is a grin, before he turns back to the movie. 

Grumbling under your breath, you trudge through the room to the front door, frowning when you look through the peephole to see two figures. 

One is shorter than the other, a woman wearing a hot pink and orange dress that should be garish, but looks completely natural on her. The man next to her is grinning, holding several plastic bags in one hand, the other arm linked with the woman’s. 

Not salesmen. 

Concluding that they’re probably not a threat, you swing the door open, causing their heads to pop up. 

“Hey, Reid- Oh.” The man speaks immediately, but pauses when he sees you. 

“You’re not Reid.” The woman concludes. 

You tilt your head to the side, confused. 

“Yeah, I’m not. Um, how do you know Spencer?” 

They share a confused look.

“We’re his coworkers. Derek and Penelope. Sorry, who are you? Do we have the wrong apartment?” 

You brighten, recognising the names from Spencer’s many stories about work. 

“Oh, that’s who you are! No, you’ve got the right apartment, of course. Come in.” You turn to the side, allowing them to walk in, although their expressions remain bewildered. “I’m Spence’s roommate, Y/N. He’s in the living room.”

“Roommate?” Derek exclaims before setting his sights on Spencer, striding over to him. 

“Hey, pretty boy.” Spencer jolts, the haze of sickness having made sure that he didn’t notice them till now. His voice is higher than normal, squeaky. 

“Morgan! What are you- Garcia? Why- why are you here?” Penelope smiles mischievously, plopping down on the couch next to Spencer. 

“Well, we obviously wanted to check up on you, Boy Wonder. This is the first sick day you’ve taken in the last two years - don’t try to lie to me, I checked - and now, we’re very interested in your friend here.” Her smile loses its teasing edge when she turns to you. 

A grin spreads over your face, recognising the same teasing affection you feel towards him in the two newcomers. Retaking your seat on Spencer’s other side, you pull your feet up on the couch, tucking them under Spencer’s thigh. 

Penelope squeaks quietly, but averts her gaze when you look up at her questioningly. 

“So, you guys have worked with Spence for a while, huh?”

Derek sits in the armchair across from you, chuckling under his breath.

“Since he was 22. Back when he straightened his hair and wore those sweater vests that were three sizes too big.” Spencer lets out a strangled noise of protest next to you, but you both ignore him in favour of continuing your conversation. 

“Seriously? I’ve seen one photo of him back then, but then he started hiding them all from me. You got any?” 

Penelope perks up, pulling out a tablet from her work bag. 

“Yes! Oh my goodness, sweetheart, I have so many. Did you know, he used to do this thing where he would gel his hair back, said it made him look older but it was honestly just really cute, hold on…”

She shifts and moves to sit on your other side, huddling over the tablet with you and Derek. 

Spencer is suddenly left in the lurch, stuck observing the three of you from the other end of the couch. He feels like he should be irritated, angry even, but he can’t do anything but watch, eyes softening. 

“Oh my god, Spencer, you were so cute, what happened?” Never mind, he’s feeling a bit irritated now.

It’s not endearing, no. No matter how lovely you look, your face flushed with excitement. No matter how easily you fit in with some of his favourite people in the world.

It’s not captivating, not at all.

[jebunkle]

is this the real life?...

806 wc, gn!reader, all of them are having a mental breakdown

i saw some awesome sahsrau (self-aware hsr au) from @aventurineswife and they seemed a bit tired of making it...so i thought i'd give it a shot :p maybe ooc on some parts, sorry

the astral express who, while visiting a planet, begin to sense something amiss. it feels as if something, someone, has eyes on them occasionally.

while you're just logging in to play the game and pulling for new characters, everyone starts to freak out. what is watching over them? it can't be the aeons, something much more divine. hell, maybe even the aeons sense something is different.

himeko brews coffee while chatting quietly with welt, "you've felt it too, yes?" she asked him nervously, as if someone would hear if they were too loud. she sips her drink while glancing around every moment or so, displaying her franticness.

the express notices her off putting attitude, but before they can dwell on it, they begin to feel the same as her. it's almost like an illness, if this plague's symptoms were paranoia and impending doom.

the stellaron hunters are hardly different. kafka's smooth demeanor falters as she gazes off into the deep null of space. "who are you, divine being?" she asks into the nothingness, her sultry voice filling the otherwise empty air. as blade is sat on a couch, arms crossed over his chest, his posture seemed to be more tense than usual. of course, he was always uptight, but his behavior was extra rigid as of lately. silver wolf on the other hand, can't help but chuckle at kafka's philosophical rants and blade's silent pondering. she can tell that they're all puppets on a larger stage, meaning close to nothing in the vast universe — both her universe and yours.

aventurine, ever relaxed, has been carrying himself with a bit more of a troubled expression. his typical flamboyance has faltered and few around him have noticed. as aventurine sits on a red leather chair in an empty casino, he does not feel alone; tossing a golden coin between his fingers, aventurine begins thinking aloud. "i see you've chosen to reveal yourself, huh?" the blonde's voice is low and almost soft, as if he's trying not to offend whoever he may be speaking to.

dr. ratio's hair is a slightly unkempt, his eyebrows are pinched together much more frequently, and his papers and studies are left askew on his desk. a few members of the intellegentsia guild slowly catch onto how he's acting, and it's truly unbecoming of the infamous strict professor. his employees can be seen wearing a concerned expression when glancing over at him, yet are too afraid to inquire on his troubled state. "i will uncover whoever is ensuing this chaos amongst us all." ratio promises himself.

the xianzhou luofu is eerily quiet. the arbiter general himself has gone silent as well, as if the ship has been submerged into an ocean of solitude. jing yuan sits in his chair with his fingers intertwined atop his lap. internally, he wonders about this rumored 'creator'; are they real? is it an aeon? what does this mean for him? his companions? is something terrible on the horizon? his endless inquiries are certainly unlike him, causing the master diviner fu xuan to worry about him.

she feels that the world has been tilted also, however she's more concerned about jing yuan's scrambled state. "please, go home and rest, general." she pleads annoyedly, "mm. give me a moment, diviner fu." jing yuan replies quietly, his words melancholic. "you know as much as i do that something has changed." he states to the shorter woman.

boothill's shoes tap eagerly against the pavement that lined the roof of the building, echoing an ambience of anticipation. "what in the world are you?" the man questions the air rhetorically. he cannot, for the life of him, figure out what's causing such a stir in the mood of everyone, himself included. the silver cowboy's hand is rested on his hip, the other lifted to his neck with a finger pressed to his chin. "i dunno, but yer rackin' all our brains here.." boothill remarks, hoping that whoever is watching over him will hear it.

the enigmatic memokeeper is seen with a more defined smirk recently. black swan has taken interest is this unknown deity that has spiked fear and franticness all over the universe. she rests her palm against her chin, staring up into the stars that decorate the black outside of the express's windows. "i hope you'd be willing to speak with me, demiurge." she exclaims in a calm yet excited tone.

the head of the oak family stands in his obnoxiously large office, hands pressed against the polished table as he stares down at it. there's a few scattered documents thrown astray, but they're not important right now. all sunday can think of is you. he knows you exist, he's sure of it, and he won't rest until the day comes that you visit him and grace the world with your presence.

im so happy the eagles won the super bowl and kendricks performance was goated

dividers by @/hyuneskkami

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

Sugar, Baby

Chapter Three: Unraveling

Bruce Wayne x Sugar Baby! Reader

| Part 1 | | Part 2 |

I pinky promise there will be smut in the next part🤞 I just felt like making this one a bit of a slow burn

Taglist: @shadowqueen1322 @secretsideofbree @lillyrob

It started with nights at the manor.

At first, it was just a casual thing—Bruce would send a car, and you’d spend an evening talking over expensive whiskey, letting the world outside the Wayne estate fade into irrelevance. You still worked at the bar, still went to class, but somehow, Bruce had become a fixture in your life.

And it wasn’t just the money.

Yes, he still tipped you ridiculous amounts when he showed up at the bar. Yes, the black card he’d given you sat in your wallet, burning a hole you had yet to fill. But more than that, he was there.

The texts started coming more frequently.

B: You still alive?

You: Barely. My professor is trying to kill me with this assignment.

B: Send me the prompt. I’ll have my team handle it.

You: Absolutely not.

B: I don’t like seeing you stressed.

You: And I don’t like billionaire academic fraud.

B: Fair point.

He called, too—not often, but enough that you found yourself waiting for the sound of his voice on the other end of the line.

The nights at the manor got longer.

At first, it was just drinks and conversation, but then there were the quiet dinners Alfred started preparing for two instead of one. The slow walks through the grand halls of the estate, the firelit nights spent sprawled on the couch in the library, his arm slung lazily over the backrest behind you.

And then, of course, there were the kisses.

God, the kisses.

They started slow, teasing, an extension of whatever sharp-witted conversation you’d been having before he inevitably leaned in. Bruce kissed with purpose, with intent, with the kind of control that made you dizzy.

But that’s all it was.

Kissing.

He never pushed, never let things go further than you could handle, and part of you wondered if he knew.

If he had already pieced together that you had never done this before.

Not this—not just the kisses, but the way he made you feel.

Because it wasn’t just physical.

Bruce knew you.

He listened when you ranted about your classes, when you muttered about your deadlines, when you offhandedly mentioned your favorite books or movies. He remembered, too—casually dropping facts about your life into conversation, surprising you with small gestures that proved he had been paying attention.

“Tell me something real,” you murmured one night, curled up next to him on the oversized couch in his study.

Bruce glanced down at you, brow raising slightly. “Something real?”

You nodded. “Something not in the tabloids.”

He was silent for a moment, fingers tracing slow, absentminded circles against your knee.

“I never sleep for more than three hours at a time,” he admitted finally. “It’s been that way since I was a kid.”

You frowned, shifting to get a better look at him. “Why?”

His gaze flickered, something unreadable passing through his expression. “You know why.”

You did.

Gotham knew the story of Thomas and Martha Wayne—the billionaire philanthropists gunned down in an alley, the grieving son left behind.

“I dream about them,” Bruce continued, voice quieter now. “Not always in the way you’d think. Sometimes it’s just… glimpses. My mother’s perfume. My father’s laugh. I wake up before I can hold onto any of it.”

Your chest tightened.

You reached for his hand without thinking, threading your fingers through his. Bruce blinked, as if surprised, before his grip tightened around yours.

He didn’t pull away.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, rubbing a slow, deliberate pattern over your knuckles. “I just—”

“I’m glad you told me,” you interrupted softly.

He exhaled, eyes flickering toward your lips.

That night, the kisses were softer.

Not urgent. Not desperate. Just there.

Something real.

—

It was a few weeks later when you finally asked.

You were sitting in Bruce’s bedroom—an indulgently large space that still somehow felt distinctly him. There was a fireplace crackling in the corner, the low golden light casting shadows across the room.

Bruce was on the bed beside you, leaning against the headboard, sleeves rolled up as he scrolled through something on his phone. You had a book open in your lap, though you weren’t really reading it.

Instead, you were watching him.

“Bruce.”

He glanced up at the sound of your voice. “Mm?”

You hesitated. “Are you… waiting for something?”

He set his phone down, eyes scanning your face. “What do you mean?”

Your fingers tightened slightly around the book. “I mean, we’ve been… this for a while now.”

Bruce’s lips twitched. “This?”

You rolled your eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” he admitted.

You exhaled. “So, are you waiting? For me?”

His expression shifted, something fond passing through his features.

“Yes,” he said simply.

Your stomach flipped. “Why?”

Bruce sat up, moving closer. One of his hands found your knee, fingers brushing against the fabric of your leggings.

“Because I know you,” he said, voice low. “I know you wouldn’t be here if this wasn’t real for you.”

You swallowed hard. “And?”

His thumb traced slow circles against your leg.

“And I want to take my time with you.”

You felt yourself flush, warmth spreading through your body at the implication.

Bruce smirked slightly, tilting your chin up with the crook of his finger.

“You deserve more than rushed decisions,” he murmured. “I don’t need more. Not yet. Not until you’re ready.”

You inhaled sharply. “I—”

His lips brushed against yours, soft and coaxing.

“Don’t overthink it,” he whispered against your mouth.

And for once, you didn’t.

—

It didn’t happen that night.

Or the next.

Or the one after that.

But somehow, the waiting didn’t feel like waiting.

Masterlist

[thinemoonshine]

⋆𐙚₊ 𝓹𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝓴𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐲 ˚⊹♡

—⋆˚𝜗𝜚��⋆ it’s not his fault. she left when they’re meant to be together. he just wants to keep their promise

good boy!jungwon x bad girl!reader content(s): angst, suggestive, jungwon fell hard and can’t get up at all, profanities, (y/n) is a teeny bit mean in a way where she’s selfish, jungwon is obsessed, won is described to be like a cat—highly jealous, sneaky and sly, toxic relationship type: oneshot

yang jungwon is like an affectionate cat. he loves nuzzling against (y/n) with arms curled around her and pawing whenever he wants attention or to get comfy. his favourite position is to have his face buried in the crook of her neck where her scent is the sweetest.

yang jungwon is like a clingy cat. he's always tailing after (y/n) whenever she's around and sits himself near her with doe eyes blinking prettily for her to notice and look. and when she does, you can almost hear him purr with delight as he grins with glee.

yang jungwon is like a jealous cat. he hates other men approaching his person. his round eyes will sharpen to blades and pierce anyone who dares approach (y/n). his hand will find home around her waist, hip or even shoulder just to show everyone she already has a pet. and if they still don't get it, he might just hiss.

yang jungwon is like a cat, through and through. and just like cats, he can be a teensy bit…cunning.

…

……

jungwon didn’t like what he saw.

his typically soft, playful eyes turned sharp and glaring at the scene he witnessed in front of him. even with the heavy rain that blurred his surroundings into splashes of colour and indistinguishable shapes, he could skillfully recognize (y/n) who was leaned against a lamp post with a man practically sucking her face off.

his hands traveled the surface of her clothes—clawing and pulling at the wet fabric—with the clear intent of wanting to just rip it off. thankfully, he still had some public decency and had left them on.

when they finally pulled away, jungwon’s seething breaths hitched momentarily at the sight of (y/n)’s radiant smile and it was as if she stood under a spotlight. with the moonlight that shone on her glistening skin and sparkling eyes, it pained him to see how gleeful she seemed to be with another beside him.

and he hated it. with all his heart and being.

his knuckles turned as white as a sheet as his fingers tightened around his now dripping wet phone with a screen flashing a bright blue dot on a map that marked (y/n)’s location.

so…this is why she hadn’t answered his texts.

no matter. just like the other boys she fooled around with, he’ll just be another toy she’ll cast aside.

—

that was a week ago and now, jungwon’s enjoying his little ‘won and (y/n)’ saturday sleepover with his head on her lap, her playing with his fluffy blonde hair while they’re both watching the show playing on TV.

it’s peaceful and lighthearted until the girl sharply clicks her tongue—grabbing the attention of the young man on her lap. he flips onto his back to look up at her who’s scowling at her phone.

“what’s up?” he asks, blinking with wide curious eyes.

the girl sighs before throwing her gadget aside. “just another guy who bailed. seriously, what is it these days? all the guys i reach out to always agree at first but then after we confirm the plans, they suddenly ‘can’t make it’ because of some sh!tyy excuse or whatever.”

she groans and lets her head fall back against the couch, her hand also dropping from his fluffy locks. “it’s been so long since i got laid. am i not pretty enough or something?”

jungwon gasps at that, more offended than she is and he quickly clasps her hand in his. “you’re the prettiest, (y/n). the most beautiful person i know inside and out. they’re the ones who are jerks.”

(y/n) chuckles at this and looks down at him who’s smiling up at her almost expectantly, as if hoping for validation or praise. she shakes her head with endearment before using her other hand to brush his bangs back. “but of course, you’d say that, wonnie.”

“i mean it, though,” he claims and he does—with his whole chest and existence. “you’re so breathtaking that i forget to even breathe sometimes. not that i need to.”

“yeah? why’s that?”

“all i need is you~” jungwon sings with his lips puckering exaggeratedly to elongate the ‘you.’

the other scoffs instantly at that and pushes his face away before immediately pulling back with a screech when she feels something wet and warm slide against her palm.

“yang jungwon! did you lick me??” she exclaims, flabbergasted, and yet the other only giggles playfully with a wiggle of his brows as he sits up.

“your hand lotion smells sweet,” he reasons and her brows jump with disbelief.

with a scrunched face, she dries her wet hand on his sleeve with a rough swipe. “it doesn’t mean it’ll taste nice!”

jungwon disagrees though. and he’s not afraid to show that by tilting his head with a frown of disagreement. “you always taste nice.”

(y/n)’s opportunity to retort is stripped away by him whose face is suddenly inches away from her as his eyes flicker between hers before zoning down at her mouth.

her breaths hitch when his own fans her lips and his tongue darts out to flick at the rosy nubs. “jungwon—”

“kiss?” he hums quietly and at the sight of it still closed tight, he draws closer with a little huff while his hand gently paws at her lap. “please? won wants kiss…”

(y/n) can feel her resolve shattering at his small pleas and she parts her lips to which he instantly dives into.

he doesn’t spare a second to practically feast on her in a messy choreography—tongues tangling, breaths blending and saliva stringing—and the intensity of it all shocks her, especially so when he straddles her.

thinking back, all of this started a week ago. she’s not sure what exactly sparked it but long story short, (y/n)’s apartment door had been rung incessantly and the moment she peeked through the eyehole, she was overrun with both worry and horror at the sight of a completely soaked jungwon standing outside her door.

various questions filled her head. what was he doing out in the rain nearing midnight? why was he at her door?

sure, she too herself had just come home an hour ago after a hooking up with some guy but that was her. a norm. jungwon? goody-two-shoes jungwon to be out of bed, out in the rain, soaked head-to-toe and not to mention, drunk??

something was definitely up. and that very same time was when jungwon started asking for kisses, saying something along the lines of “need to… need to clean…”

and if doing it was the only way to get him to calm down, she’d do anything.

at the end though, what she thought was a one time thing, a mistake by his drunken self, was actually some sort of new ‘diet’ jungwon had. something he had to have each day. something he began to shamelessly ask for.

and deep within (y/n)’s twisted little self, she reveled in the way he seemed to yearn for her kisses. like she was his lifeline. of course, she’s rational enough to not let it go beyond the line.

as if that would make it better.

“jungwon, kitty,” she calls after pulling away and the nickname makes him gasp softly as he shudders on her lap. growing up, he had a habit of sinking his teeth into things and (y/n)’s always the main victim. the fact that this knowledge is personal between them makes it so intimate, so special that he just can’t help but preen whenever he hears the name.

“hm?” he hums whilst nosing her cheeks and leaving soft butterfly kisses on her face.

her hand moves to gently push him away by the chest just so they can properly see one another. “what happened that day?“

he freezes, nervous gaze flicking between hers before looking down. he can’t tell her that he used their little friendship necklace that doubles as safety trackers because she wasn’t answering his texts. he can’t tell her that he saw her making out with some other dude and nearly lost his mind when he saw that she liked it. he can’t tell her that he practically had to drink himself away just so he could forget and not tear the man’s head off his neck.

so instead, he says, “i was just stressed. everything…everything is just overwhelming.”

good job, jungwon, he pats himself in the back. playing the typical overworked uni student will always be believable.

he throws in a small pout as his brows raise and dip at the ends and he knows she’s bought it when a soft coo sounds and her fingers start to play with the hair on his nape.

won simply melts at the touch, leaning slightly and baring his neck as he sighs dreamily.

“so is that what this is? your stress reliever?” (y/n) refers to the kisses.

he stays silent for an unnoticeable second. if he had to be completely honest, the kisses are because he wants to wipe off whatever filth was left behind by that man that kissed her.

but stress reliever isn’t precisely wrong he suppose. her lips are to die for. she is to die for.

he nods softly and curls himself into her—arms wrapping around her waist as his head rests in the crook of her neck—and he nuzzles to drown himself in her sweet, soothing scent.

his knees lock around her hips as his tongue flicks out to lick stripes against the skin of her neck and his ears perk at the sound of her giggles.

“that tickles,” she comments with a light jerk when he nips.

he smiles.

yeah, just this is fine for now.

—

no.

nonononononono no!

this isn’t supposed to happen!

jungwon stares with horror at the scene unfolding in front of him.

she’s back with that rodent. that…that little pest! how dare he crawl his way back to her?? after all i’ve done to make sure he stays away—

“jungwon!” (y/n)’s chirpy voice fishes him out of the depths of his rapidly darkening thoughts but he still can’t manage to put on a smile when his one and only comes up to him with her arm linked in another’s. “i thought you said had no class today.”

jungwon forces himself to form a small grin, enough to at least make him seem unsuspicious but not at the very least welcoming to the third party. “oh, i don’t! but i had to drop off an assignment.”

(y/n) nods at this and immediately gestures to her…company. “this is minoo. i’ve told you about him.”

yes, you did, won thinks bitterly in his head, teeth gritting beneath his strained smile. he’s a nasty waste of spa—

“jungwon, right? (y/n)’s told me about you too,” minoo says with a hand offered for a shake. the former’s feline eyes are quick to follow his motions before tracking back up to his gaze. with a small nod, he accepts his handshake—only by the tips of his fingers before having to physically restrain himself from shuddering. “said to me that you’re her childhood friend. hard to believe honestly.”

his comment vexes him and a dark brow arches up challengingly on jungwon’s face.

“why’s that?” he hisses and (y/n)’s quick to notice but says nothing. he’s always been defensive about their relationship. always the first to claw and hiss whenever someone makes an off-putting remark.

minoo doesn’t seem at all deterred and if anything, he seems more amused about it. a cocky chuckle sounds and he tilts his head—mockingly, won might add—before clicking his tongue. “oh, nothing. you guys are so…different. i get it, opposites attract and all but you know well yourself, she’s way better with someone like me than well…you.”

the girl’s eyes widen twice their size, ready to pull won away from spitting venom through his teeth which might end with some of them falling off by minoo’s fist if she might add.

but in contrary to her expectations, he…

drop!

the first of many tears cascade down his rosy cheek down to the dry cement below them before they thicken to streams.

“jungwon,” she gasps and reaches forward to cup his face that quickly turns flushed as he sniffles, turning his head to hide within her cold palm.

“i know…i know that,” he chokes out when he pulls away with a rushed inhale. his red-rimmed, brimming eyes staring straight at minoo with contempt and yet, defeat. “i know she’ll never choose me but, it’s not wrong of me to keep hoping! it’s…it’s not wrong… it’s not wrong to wish and hold on... it’s not wrong…”

hearing that confession spill from his trembling lips strikes a cord in her—an epiphany—and her eyes travel across his face for a moment, taking his raw emotion in all his entirety before taking a step back.

jungwon almost stops crying instantly at the loss of her touch and he looks up with confusion as she backs away to minoo’s side once again. “(y/n)…?”

“i shouldn’t have let it go this far,” is all she mutters and she doesn’t spare a moment for him to stop her when she suddenly spins on her heels while dragging minoo away with.

his tears dried instantly as alarms blare in his ears incessantly.

you’re losing her, jungwon.

what did you do? you ruined it!

“w-wait!” jungwon calls out, voice cracking but she ignores. not a single pause or glance.

she’s going further away, jungwon. you’re losing her. she hates you now. you’ve done it.

“i’m sorry! i-it was all my fault, i—!”

he gulps harshly. his throat’s too dry from having to strain himself to cry—to act like a meek, broken lamb. he never thought it would backfire.

and now he’s actually crying.

his arm outstretches towards her, wanting to keep up but he knows that going after her is going to escalate everything. he knows her enough to know that if his tears don’t work, nothing will.

but what else can he do??

you’re losing her. you arelosing her. youarelosingher. losingherlosinglosinglosingherlosingher—

you lost her.

jungwon heaves, chest too heavy and breathing suddenly all too laborious as he clutches his chest through his shirt. he watches with a trampled spirit and weeping eyes as her figure diminishes further and further away.

“i lost her.”

—

—-

——

jungwon’s not easily deterred. like a cat, he’s stubborn. like a cat, he has claws to sink.

he leans against the jagged stone wall of the dark alley. his black hood’s pulled up over his head while his hand is stuffed in his dark cargo pants, the other spinning around his phone between his fingers deftly.

it’s in the dead of the night in a place so quiet it’s unnerving, a striking contrast from the usually busy city. footsteps sound and they begin to echo the deeper they venture into the alley.

jungwon’s ears perk and eyes lift from the ground to the wall in front of him—sharpening to a glare the moment a figure steps between.

“i knew there had to be something wrong under that innocence face you play,” minoo chuckles with amusement. his brows raise with a daring smirk. “how’d you get my number, huh?”

“(y/n)’s phone. she doesn’t change her passcode,” jungwon casually replies and the other scoffs.

“really? thought you guys don’t talk anymore after your whole… crying fest.”

“i’ve had it for a while. just in case.”

“wah… so you’re a real creep, aren’t ya? and she trusts you wholeheartedly. you should’ve seen how she practically tore herself knowing how she ‘broke’ you,” minoo comments and leans against the opposing wall with his chin raised high. “fvck, it was such a bother. couldn’t even do anything with her being such a party pooper.”

“watch your mouth,” jungwon hisses as his hands curl at his sides, teeth gritted.

minoo raises his own hands in false surrender. “hey, don’t act like you’re such a saint. after all, we both know that you slashed my tires when i was about to go on that date with (y/n).”

the other says nothing to this—no confirmation, no refute—and minoo scoffs. he pushes himself off the wall and brings his face near him, grinning ear to ear. “hey, say something won’t you? why’d even ask to meet if you’re gonna stay mute like a little pussy?”

again, jungwon stays quiet—but just for a good moment. “stay away from (y/n). she deserves someone better than you.”

“yeah? like who? you?” minoo scoffs and tilts his head tauntingly.

won’s fists grow taut, nails digging into his palms as they tremble but again, he doesn't voice an answer. "just stay away."

minoo clicks his tongue and he leans back, now more annoyed than he is amused. he drops his head low as his eyes glare into the other's. "and if i don't?"

then without warning, jungwon smacks himself across the face—shocking the other and minoo straightens with eyes popping—but he doesn't stop once, no. he does it again, again and again from various different angles until his lips are cut and bleeding.

"what the fvck, man?? the hell are you doing?!” min bursts, both weirded out and unnerved.

“what i have to,” won replies almost monotonous and he grunts when he slams himself against the brick wall behind him—harsh. he repeats it, back of his skull knocking against the jagged stone with a clear ‘THUD!’ and his vision blackens for a moment as head spins.

he hisses and brows knit, clearly in pain as he stumbles from the momentary dizziness but he’s swift to turn around just to smash his forehead against the serrated screen from years of neglect.

“STOP IT, MAN!” minoo finally shouts, clearly perturbed and terrified and he grapples his shoulder to pull him away.

but jungwon doesn’t stop. not yet.

just when minoo manages to yank him a good distance away, he leaps straight back into the wall like he’s trying to materialize through it—like a madman. a self-destructive maniac.

“FINE! FINE! I’ll leave her alone so just stop acting like some fvcking psycho, dude!” minoo finally yields, face pale and breaths shallow from the anxiety as he watches jungwon continue to ruin himself like a brainless zombie.

he was ruthless—bashing his head against the brick wall, smashing himself against it as if daring it to crumble if not him first and fingers pounding and clawing, leaving traces of blood from the torn, tattered tips. he was brutal, unforgiving and yet, he’s grinning through it all.

he turns around with a stagger, panting heavily as he lifts his focus to him. minoo’s petrified at the crazed look in his bulging, widened eyes and the unnatural spread of his bloody lips from ear to ear is near predatory—devilish.

minoo’s insides are near to leaping out of his skin but he relents—standing frozen as jungwon approaches.

the latter rests a hand on the other’s shoulder and he tilts his head. the blood dripping from his temple drops onto the hard ground and his tongue swipes against the oozing red on his busted bottom lip. “i trust you will as i hope you’ll be smarter.”

he then tucks his hand into minoo’s hoodie’s pocket and fishes out his handphone with a screen lit by the clear recording symbol. the owner freezes, not expecting for jungwon to find out.

the latter ends the tape before permanently deleting it from his phone and waving it at the side of his face. “smarter than this.”

no matter how unassuming it sounds, chills runs down min’s spine. it feels like a threat—one that’s grim, that’s written in blood. deadly. and he shudders when won’s feline eyes glint with a foxy intent—quickly snatching his phone back before stuffing it into his jeans.

“whatever…” minoo mutters and rushes out the alley, leaving jungwon alone in the haunting darkness. one that seemed to emanate from him.

won breathes heavily as his vision blurs—the blood loss and heavy hits he took starting taking a toll on him. but he can’t lose himself, not yet.

he takes out his phone and clicks on a number, hearing it dial for a few times before the other line answers.

“jungwon? it’s so late, why are you—”

jungwon coughs harshly and wheezes after, putting on his best performance in exaggerating his wounds—not that he’s not severely hurt but he’d be lying if he said it’s unbearable. he’d rather have this pain a million times than the pain of losing (y/n).

“h-help…” he croaks. “minoo—!”

CRACK!

he drops his phone onto the stone floor and smiles when he hears her panicked voice screaming through the phone—asking where he is and if he’s fine before ultimately rushing out her door.

jungwon sighs contentedly and sits himself on the ground. his eyes rake over the wall painted with his blood before at the torn, grated skin on the bloody tips of his fingers.

now, he waits.

—

a week has passed since then.

minoo, the ‘perpetrator,’ is a serving time at a correctional facility for his ‘acts of violence.’ while the ‘victim,’ jungwon, is almost healed up and had been released from the hospital to instead rest up at home with a pardon from school.

and (y/n)? she’s been taking time off just to nurse after him, much to his utmost delight.

she has been going above and beyond for him due to her guilt—apologizing profusely for letting minoo in her life and undoubtedly bringing him to jungwon. and won, of course, always denies it, saying “it’s not your fault! it never is!” because truthfully, it isn’t.

it’s his. minoo didn’t even lay a hand on him. he was the one who damaged himself but they will never know that, will they?

not when his little friendship necklace with (y/n) that doubles as a tracker was found in minoo’s hoodie. imagine her shock and horror when she went out to find jungwon only for her to be lead to minoo.

but the anger she portrayed after, it was a sight to behold, the police were called and so was the ambulance after they found out jungwon’s location from minoo.

he claimed innocent. begging and pleading to be heard.

“it wasn’t me! he was insane!” “he kept running through the wall! punched himself and all!” “i’m the victim! h-he must have snuck that necklace into my pocket!”

how pitiful.

jungwon wished he could’ve been there to see it.

“how do you feel, baby? need something else?” (y/n) asks with utmost care as her hand brushes back his bangs.

jungwon purrs, pushing his head into her touch. “no, i’m okay. thank you for taking care of me.”

(y/n) stares at him as he clings to her, his pretty, doe eyes blinking at her like she’s his world, his saviour, his reason for living. he looks at her like she’s his world.

and she knows it’s her doing. she should’ve cut things short but she had been selfish.

“don’t…don’t thank me,” she quietly says, remorseful, and jungwon’s sparkly eyes soften as they study her grey mien before he reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

“lie with me?” he invites and she nods with a soft smile—joining him on his bed and tucking herself into his arms that gladly scoop her up.

he pats her back and strokes the back of her head. they revel in the peaceful silence and warmth that envelope them—one indulging in it much more than the other with a lovesick grin on his face and hearts glowing in his eyes.

“i don’t need anything else. i just need you,” jungwon mumbles into her hair and she chuckles. “like our promise.”

his words linger in the air for a moment before she sits up, a hand on his chest while the other props her up on her side to look at him.

“promise?”

won meets her gaze and nods. “back then, we promised to stay together forever. that’s why we got those tracking necklaces—so we can always find our way to each other more matter where we are.”

his words rekindles the memory in her head and her brows knit with guilt.

“you still remember?” she croaks, tears brimming and jungwon’s swift to bring his thumb up to wipe away a stray tear of hers.

“of course, i do. i remember everything about you—about us,” he says without a single doubt and sits up to hold her face. he bends down slightly to meet her height. “hey, hey… don’t cry. please, don’t cry. you’ll hurt your eyes again. shh, shh…”

he hugs her close and pushes her head gently to rest it on his shoulder—biting his lip when she brings herself closer to burrow into the crook of his neck. “i remember because well… i’ve always believed that i will stay with you—then, now and forevermore. promises aren’t meant to be broken. so you’ll stay with me, won’t you?”

“i will. i will, jungwon. and i’m so so sorry it took me so long to see that. to say this to you,” (y/n) sobs against him and he coos among comforting hushes as he pats her back.

“don’t be sorry. you don’t have to apologize for anything,” jungwon assures, his voice lulling and he presses a warm, lingering kiss on her temple. “in my eyes, you can do no wrong. you can slap me, kick me, stab me with a knife if you wish but as long as i know it’s your hand that’s holding it, i’ll gladly let it pierce my heart. you’re my everything, (y/n). i hope you know that.”

her cries only heighten at his genuine confession, heart aching like it’s breaking as tears overflow at the uncritical fondness he holds for her.

if she wasn’t in his embrace, she’s sure she would have shattered into pieces like fragile ceramic—completely oblivious to the wicked, toxic thoughts that fill her little angel’s head the longer he has her in his arms.

at this point, if she knew he was the one who baited minoo into a bear trap, made him watch as he thoroughly crushed and bled himself to the point of minoo’s mental ruin, snuck his necklace into his hoodie and called (y/n) for the fantastic finale, she’s still gonna think that jungwon did it for a good cause.

because just as he sees (y/n) as the embodiment of perfection, she now sees him as a poor, pathetic lamb who can do no sin—a saint.

and along with the guilt that now haunts her, he’s permanently tethered her to his side.

she can’t leave now, she can’t leave ever. they belong together, forever.

[rosiecosy]

safe with you୨ৎ˚

(vernon x reader) - part 2 to too close for comfort୨ৎ

the second you step inside, vernon locks the door. then double-locks it. then checks the windows, the balcony, every possible way in.

he’s not talking. not even looking at you, just moving like he has to do this before he can breathe again.

you know you should say something. tell him you’re okay, tell him you’re safe now—but the words stick in your throat because you’re not sure they’d be true.

so instead, you sit on the couch and stare at the floor.

a few minutes later, vernon crouches in front of you.

“baby,” he says, voice soft.

you blink. look at him.

his brows are furrowed, his eyes filled with something unreadable—like he’s trying to hold too many emotions at once. his hands find your knees, grounding you.

“i’m sorry,” he says.

you frown. “for what?”

“i should’ve been there. i should’ve—” he cuts himself off, jaw clenching. “if i got there any later…”

you shake your head. “but you didn’t.”

he doesn’t look convinced.

your chest aches. you reach forward, cupping his face, thumbs brushing along his cheekbones. he leans into your touch instantly, like he’s been waiting for it.

“vernon,” you whisper. “you saved me.”

he exhales, long and shaky. then, finally, his arms are around you, pulling you into his chest.

you don’t fight it. you melt into him, gripping the fabric of his hoodie as he buries his face in your shoulder.

his voice is quiet when he speaks. “i don’t want you going anywhere alone anymore.”

“vernon—”

“i mean it.” he pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands sliding down to lace your fingers together. “we’ll figure something out. more security. different routes. something.”

the worry in his eyes is so raw, so heavy, that you can’t argue. instead, you squeeze his hands and nod.

he watches you for a second longer, then sighs, pressing his forehead to yours.

“i’m never letting anything happen to you,” he murmurs.

and for the first time since the chase, since the fear settled deep in your bones—you believe him.

[yara0546]

Hey can you do 7dream love languages? 🧡

Nct dream | Their Love Language with You

Pairing: nct dream x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Comfort, relationship.

Note : English is not my first language, so I apologize if there are any grammatical errors, because I sometimes use a translator in some sentences.

Disclaimer : This is a work of fiction from our imagination. It is not intended that the plot, theme, original characters, idols, etc. portray any real-life events/people. Plagiarism is NOT tolerated on this blog. If you believe we have copied an existing authors’ work, please message us privately. thank you and enjoy :)

Masterlist

Mark

Mark isn’t the best with expressing emotions, but when he realizes how much words mean to you, he makes an effort.

You sigh, looking out the window of your shared apartment. “Sometimes… I just wonder if I’m enough.”

Mark’s eyes widen, setting down his guitar. “What? What are you talking about? Of course, you are.”

You hesitate. “You don’t say it often. I know you care, but I just—”

Mark gently grabs your hands. “Hey. Listen to me. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I mean it. You make my days better, you’re my safe place. I love you, and I’ll remind you as many times as you need, okay?”

Your heart flutters at his sincerity. “Okay.”

He chuckles, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “I’ll say it every day if it makes you feel secure. Because you’re more than enough for me.”

Renjun

Renjun doesn’t always say how much he loves you—he shows it.

One evening, you come home exhausted, barely able to keep your eyes open. “Renjun, I—”

Before you can finish, he gently pushes you toward the couch. “Shh, just sit. I got this.”

You blink as he brings over a tray of hot soup, tea, and your favorite snacks. “You cooked?”

He nods, his ears turning red. “You’ve been working too hard. I don’t like seeing you so tired.”

You smile, touched by his thoughtfulness. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

He huffs, but his lips twitch into a smile. “Just eat. And don’t think of anything else, okay? I’ll take care of everything.”

Jeno

Jeno isn’t overly affectionate in public, but with you, he’s all about physical touch.

You sigh, rubbing your temples after a long day. Jeno notices immediately, pulling you into his arms. “Rough day?”

You nod against his chest. “Yeah.”

Instead of saying anything, he just holds you, rubbing soothing circles on your back. His warmth melts away your stress.

“You always know what I need,” you mumble.

He chuckles, resting his chin on your head. “That’s ‘cause I know you better than anyone.”

You close your eyes, letting yourself relax in his embrace. With Jeno, actions speak louder than words.

Haechan

Haechan believes love is best shown through time spent together.

“Let’s go out!” he announces one evening.

You glance up from your book. “Haechan, it’s late.”

“So? We can go get late-night snacks. Just you and me.”

You hesitate, but the sparkle in his eyes convinces you. Soon, you’re walking down the quiet streets, hand in hand.

Haechan grins, swinging your arms. “I just wanna be with you, you know?”

You smile. “Even if it’s just for snacks?”

“Especially if it’s for snacks,” he teases before his expression softens. “Nah, I just… love spending time with you. Doesn’t matter what we’re doing.”

Your heart swells with warmth. “Me too.”

Jaemin

Jaemin’s love language is a mix of touch and words.

One evening, you’re sitting beside him, feeling insecure. “Do you think I’m… good enough?”

Jaemin frowns and immediately pulls you into his lap. “What? Who put that thought in your head?”

You shrug. “I just… feel that way sometimes.”

He cups your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You’re perfect to me. And if anyone ever makes you doubt that, tell me so I can fight them.”

You giggle, but your heart flutters at his sincerity. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Only for you,” he says, pressing kisses to your forehead. “I’ll keep reminding you until you believe it.”

Chenle

For Chenle, love is shown through thoughtful gifts.

“Open it,” he says, handing you a beautifully wrapped box.

You blink in surprise. “But… it’s not a special occasion.”

He shrugs. “Who cares? I saw it and thought of you.”

You open the box to find a necklace with a charm shaped like something meaningful between you two. Tears prick your eyes. “Chenle… this is perfect.”

He grins. “Well, duh. I have good taste.”

You hug him tightly. “Thank you.”

He laughs but hugs you back. “I just want you to have little things that remind you of me.”

Jisung

Jisung is shy about affection, but he shows his love through time spent together and subtle touches.

One afternoon, he drags you to the practice room. “I want to teach you a dance.”

You pout. “But I’m terrible at dancing.”

He grins. “I’ll help you.”

As he guides you through the steps, his hands linger on your waist, keeping you steady. “See? You’re doing great.”

You laugh. “Only because you won’t let me fall.”

“Of course not,” he says softly, holding your hand tighter. “I’d never let you fall.”

Your heart skips a beat. Maybe dancing with Jisung isn’t so bad after all.