#his emotional support pillow 😔😔😔

[synity]

I recently saw the video where s.coups showed his surgery scars on his knee (😔) can you write some fluff about reader taking care of him after surgery/after seeing the video ? Thank you so much and also , people will always accuse you of such things because they are jealous . just don't care about their opinions and keep on doing what you like ❤️❤️❤️

IT HURTS TO BREATHE

(Choi Seungcheol x FemReader)

*Slice-of-life, Emotional healing, Fluff, Idolverse, Comfort, Light angst, Vunerability, Romance, Domestic romance, Adventure, Contemporary romance, Light comedy, Emotional support, and Quiet resilience*

Warnings: mentions of injury/surgery recovery, emotional vulnerability, mental health (idol burnout, anxiety), crying, heavy emotional scenes, romantic fluff

I don’t know why that video hit me the way it did.

I’ve seen him perform, smile, carry his members like a leader made of steel but watching that clip of Seungcheol pulling up his pant leg and showing the scars on his knee…

It broke something in me.

It wasn’t the scar itself. It was the silence in the room when he showed it. The way the members looked away. The way he kind of chuckled, like he was pretending it didn’t matter. Like it didn’t ache every time he danced. Like it wasn’t a reminder of pain stitched into him.

And I guess the world saw it and moved on, like it was nothing. But I couldn’t.

I couldn’t stop thinking about how much he must’ve endured. Quietly.

The first night he came home from the hospital, he tried to smile. He really did.

"Don't look at me like that," he said, voice soft, brushing a hand through my hair. “I’m okay, really.”

But I could see the pain hiding behind his eyes the way he winced when he moved, the way he avoided sitting down fully, how he flinched when the blanket brushed against his knee.

“You don’t have to pretend,” I whispered.

That’s when he broke. Not loudly. Not all at once. Just… slowly.

His shoulders slumped. His voice wavered.

“It’s stupid,” he mumbled. “I’m supposed to be strong. But all I feel is… small.”

My heart cracked open.

“You don’t have to be strong for me,” I said, kneeling beside the bed. “You just have to be real.”

He looked at me like no one had said that to him before. Not in that way.

The next few days, I took care of him.

I cooked simple meals. Helped him shower when the pain was too much. Cleaned around him. Reached for things he couldn’t. Changed his bandages when his hands trembled.

I remember the first time I saw the scar up close. My breath caught.

It wasn’t just a scar it was a story. Of every dance he forced himself through, every moment on stage where he smiled for the fans while he was screaming inside.

“You hate it?” he asked quietly, watching my face.

I shook my head. “I hate that you went through it alone.”

And that night, for the first time, he let me cry in front of him.

I didn’t sob loudly. I just sat on the floor with my head in his lap, arms around his waist, tears soaking into his shirt while he stroked my hair with his uninjured hand.

He didn’t tell me to stop crying.

He didn’t tell me to be strong either.

He just whispered, “I know. I know. I’m here.”

One night, around 3am, I woke up to him staring out the window.

The moonlight poured in like soft silver, casting shadows on his skin. His knee was slightly bent, elevated by a pillow. I saw his hand resting gently on the scar, as if he was still trying to accept it.

“Can’t sleep?” I asked.

He turned to me. There was something in his eyes like a boy who once thought the world would always see him as invincible. And now, all he could see were his cracks.

“I’m scared,” he said.

I climbed out of bed and sat beside him.

“Of what?”

“Being forgotten. Falling behind. Not being enough anymore.” He paused. “What if they stop loving me because I can’t dance the same? What if I’m not the leader they need?”

It hit me then, how heavy that weight on his chest was.

“I didn’t fall in love with your dance moves, Cheol,” I whispered. “I fell in love with how you give pieces of yourself to everyone, even when you’re empty. I fell in love with the way you love your members like family. The way you smile at fans like you see each of them. The way you hide your pain to protect others. I see you. Not your steps. You.”

He didn’t say anything.

He just leaned his head on my shoulder, and we stayed like that until dawn.

Some days are better than others. He laughs more now. He lets me trace his scar with my fingers like it’s a map, not a flaw.

“I think,” he said once, “I was scared of looking weak in front of you.”

I smiled, brushing his hair back. “And I think you’re more beautiful now than ever.”

He didn’t believe me at first. But over time, he started to see it. In the way I looked at him. In the way I loved him not despite his scars, but with them.

I don’t know why that video hit me the way it did.

I’ve seen him perform, smile, carry his members like a leader made of steel but watching that clip of Seungcheol pulling up his pant leg and showing the scars on his knee…

It broke something in me.

We made it a ritual: every night, before sleeping, I would kiss his knee gently. No words. Just a promise. That he is loved. That he is safe. That he doesn’t need to be strong every day.

And some nights, when he’s in too much pain to hide it, he falls asleep with his head in my lap, tears on his cheeks. And I hold him like he’s my whole world.

Because he is.

He’s not just the leader of thirteen boys. He’s not just a stage presence or a fan favorite.

He’s a man. A beautiful, soft-hearted man with scars, fears, dreams, and a soul that aches just like any of ours.

And I will love every inch of him.

Even the broken parts.

Especially the broken parts.

Because that’s where the light gets in.

The seasons changed quietly, and so did he.

Not all at once.

Some days, he woke up lighter. He’d joke about how “grandpa Cheol” needed his heating pad before breakfast. He let me put cute stickers on his crutches once hearts, tiny carrots, and a teddy bear holding a “you did well” sign. He rolled his eyes, but he didn’t take them off.

He started to trust softness.

And yet… even healing has its shadows.

It was the day of the company shoot.

His first time returning to a set since the surgery.

I was helping him put on his outfit. My hands grazed his thigh while adjusting the fabric, and I felt him stiffen.

“What’s wrong?” I asked gently.

He stared into the mirror. Then at his knee. Then at me.

“I don’t want people to look at me and only see damage,” he whispered.

I touched his cheek. “They won’t.”

He gave a dry smile. “You will. Eventually.”

I hated that voice in his head. The one the world gave him. The one that told him he was only worthy when perfect. Only loved when shining.

So I kissed his scar. Then again. And again.

“Every inch of you is worth loving,” I whispered. “Even this. Especially this. This is where you fought. This is proof you stayed.”

He turned his head away, and I saw it—his eyes glassy.

But he nodded.

And he let me hold his hand on the way out the door.

After the shoot, he came home quiet.

He barely touched his food. Barely looked up.

I sat beside him on the couch, waiting. Not pushing.

Eventually, he spoke.

“Someone asked if I regretted getting the surgery,” he said. “If I thought it changed me.”

He looked down at his hands.

“And I didn’t know what to say. Because… maybe it did. Maybe I’m not who I was.”

Silence.

Then, he looked at me.

“Would you still love me if I couldn’t dance at all?”

I could’ve cried.

“Cheol,” I said, “I’d love you even if you couldn’t walk. Even if you lost your voice. Even if the whole world turned its back on you.”

I cupped his face, and his tears started to fall before he could stop them.

“I’d love you through every version of you. Broken. Brave. Angry. Quiet. Soft. Still.”

That night, we didn’t sleep.

We stayed up listening to the rain tapping the windows, wrapped in each other like the world didn’t exist beyond our skin.

He let me trace every scar physical or not. He told me about the nights in the hospital where he cried alone. About the fear of waking up to a future he couldn’t recognize. About the guilt of feeling like a burden to his team.

And I told him this: “You were never a burden. You were always the heart.”

He buried his face in my neck, and I held him until his breathing slowed.

We built a new rhythm after that.

Morning coffees with jokes about who’s the better barista. Physical therapy sessions where I cheered him on like he was running a marathon. Lazy Sundays on the floor, lying in the sun, legs tangled, soft music playing.

We weren’t perfect. But we were present.

He danced again eventually. Softer. But he danced.

And when he stumbled, I didn’t catch him to save him I caught him to remind him that falling didn’t mean failure.

One evening, while folding laundry, he suddenly asked me:

“Do you still think I’m beautiful?”

I turned to him.

He was standing by the balcony, light pouring through the sheer curtains. His scar caught the light not hidden, not ashamed. Just there. Part of him.

I walked over, rested my head against his chest.

“You’ve never looked more like the man I love.”

He exhaled shakily. “Thank you… for staying. For seeing me.”

I smiled into his shirt.

“I didn’t stay despite your scars. I stayed because of them.”

He kissed the top of my head and whispered, “Then I guess I’m not so afraid anymore.”

He still gets quiet sometimes.

Still flinches when the pain creeps in.

Still stares at the scar like it speaks louder than his voice ever could.

But now, he doesn’t face it alone.

Now, when the silence comes, I take his hand and kiss the space where it hurts.

And he lets me.

Because love isn’t about fixing.

It’s about holding.

It’s about saying: “Even if the world only sees your scars… I’ll always see your soul.”

He hadn’t smiled in days. Not really.

That kind of smile that starts in the chest. That doesn’t feel forced. That doesn’t feel like he owes it to his fans, his team, his world.

He had been working again, pushing too hard again. That permanent ache in his knee had returned, like a whisper saying, “Don’t forget, you’re not whole.”

But he was whole.

He was mine.

And I wanted to remind him of that.

So one evening, I sat next to him on the couch, took his hand in both of mine, and said:

“Cheol… come away with me.”

His eyebrows lifted, tired. “Come away where?”

“Somewhere warm. Somewhere with blue water. Somewhere that doesn’t ask anything of you. Just… the sun, the waves, and me.”

He hesitated. “I can’t. There’s so much to-”

“You can.” I squeezed his hand. “And you should. You’ve taken care of everyone else. Let me take care of you now.”

He looked at me like I’d just told him the sky could fall and we’d be safe anyway.

And the next morning, we were on a plane to Punta Cana, República Dominicana.

The first day, he barely spoke.

He just laid in the hammock on the little terrace of our beach villa, one arm draped over his eyes, the other resting on his stomach.

I brought him chilled coconut water. Pressed a kiss to his shoulder. Sat beside him with a book I never actually opened.

He didn’t have to talk.

I just wanted him to feel peace. To let the ocean undo the knots in his chest.

That night, we watched the sunset in silence.

As the sky turned orange and soft purples, I glanced at him. His lips were parted, eyes slightly wet.

“It doesn’t hurt right now,” he whispered.

I didn’t ask what “it” meant.

Pain. Pressure. The weight he carried every day.

I simply leaned into him and said, “That’s all I wanted for you.”

We spent our mornings in the ocean. I would swim ahead and turn back just to see him laugh that soft, open kind of laugh, the one I’d fallen in love with.

He’d splash me. Call me a little menace. Let the waves carry him like a child again.

In the afternoons, we’d find shade and drink fresh juice while I massaged his knee with the softest touch I could manage.

“I’m scared it’ll always be like this,” he said one day, his voice barely a whisper. “That I’ll never be… free in my own body again.”

“You’re not alone in it,” I replied, still rubbing gentle circles. “And freedom doesn’t mean going back. It means choosing how to move forward.”

He nodded slowly, eyes fluttering shut.

One evening, we danced barefoot on the beach.

There was no music just the sound of waves, the breeze rustling through palm leaves, and his low hum against my ear.

He moved cautiously. He held me tighter than usual.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he chuckled.

“You’re doing more than that,” I smiled up at him. “You’re living.”

He kissed me. Not like the urgent kisses from before. This one was slow, warm, like the sea wrapping the shore. Like gratitude.

On our last night, we lay on a blanket under the stars.

He had his arm around me, and the scar on his knee caught the moonlight. This time, he didn’t hide it.

“Promise me something?” he asked.

“Anything.”

“If I forget what this felt like… remind me.”

I kissed his collarbone. “Every time.”

When we got home, things didn’t magically fix themselves.

His schedule was still demanding. His body still had limits.

But now, there was something new in him.

A memory.

A secret smile that said: I’ve touched joy. I’ve tasted quiet. I’ve been loved in the places I was most broken.

Sometimes he’ll pull me into the kitchen while I’m cooking, turn on a soft song, and sway with me.

Sometimes he’ll whisper, “Let’s run away again soon.”

And I’ll answer, “Just say when.”

Because the world can wait.

But healing healing can’t.

And love… love doesn’t ask for perfection. It just asks you to stay.

I hadn’t slept the night before.

The show was in a few hours, but my body wouldn’t let me rest. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him not dancing, not smiling but in pain, lying on the hospital bed, clutching his knee, saying “I’m scared I’ll never come back.”

And yet here we were. Hours away. He was coming back.

I sat quietly backstage, hidden behind the tech monitors and wires, while the rest of the staff bustled around. A pass hung loosely from my neck, but it wasn’t what gave me access it was him. He was my access. My home.

I could hear the crowd swelling beyond the curtains. Their voices full of love, hope, desperation. They’d missed him. They’d waited.

And so had I.

When the lights dimmed and the VCR started playing, I pressed a hand to my chest.

Every beat of the intro, I imagined him standing just beyond the wings. Breathing in. Out. In. Out.

“Cheol,” I whispered under my breath. “You’ve got this.”

And then he walked out.

He wasn’t sprinting. He wasn’t jumping. But he was there.

Walking confidently. Smiling with that same dimpled grin. His eyes searching the crowd, his hand on his heart.

The crowd screamed like they’d seen a miracle.

Because maybe they had.

He started rapping his verse smooth, controlled, powerful. There was a pause right before his footwork came in. A small bit of choreo, something light not too heavy on the knee.

He did it.

Not perfect. A little slower than the rest. But his version. His choice. His power.

And that’s when my eyes filled.

I didn’t cry because he was on stage.

I cried because I knew everything it took to get there.

I knew the nights he sat on the bathroom floor, icing his leg, refusing to let me see how badly it hurt. I knew the physical therapy sessions where he pushed himself too hard, then apologized for worrying me. I knew the breakdown he had in the car one night, whispering, “What if they’ve all moved on without me?”

And yet, here they were screaming louder than ever. Calling his name like it was a prayer.

“CHOI SEUNGCHEOL!”

I bit my lip and smiled through the tears.

You did it, baby.

When the lights went down for the encore, he disappeared from the main stage. I expected him to return with the others. He didn’t.

Instead, someone tapped my shoulder.

It was a staff member. “He’s asking for you.”

I blinked fast. “Now?”

She smiled. “Now.”

I found him alone in the greenroom, slumped on the couch, his chest still heaving from adrenaline and emotion.

His hair was damp with sweat. His knee was wrapped tight. His eyes were red.

He looked up at me.

And he broke.

He stood and pulled me into him like he’d been holding the whole world on his shoulders and finally let it fall.

“I was so scared,” he whispered into my neck. “I thought I wouldn’t make it. I thought I’d disappoint them. I thought-”

“You didn’t,” I choked out, gripping him tighter. “You didn’t disappoint anyone.”

He nodded, trembling. “But I kept thinking of you. Of that beach. Of your voice saying you’re not alone in it. That’s what got me through.”

I kissed his temple, tears spilling freely now. “You were never alone, Cheol. Never.”

Later that night, the group went out to celebrate. He didn’t stay long.

We ended up on the rooftop of our apartment building just the two of us, wrapped in one blanket, the city lights flickering like fireflies.

“I want to keep going,” he said softly.

“You will.”

“I want to do it for me. Not for pressure. Not for expectation. Just because I love it.”

I nodded, wiping his cheek. “That’s how I love you too.”

And as he laid his head in my lap and looked up at the stars, I realized:

The bravest thing isn’t getting back on stage. It’s letting someone see you fall apart, and still choosing to rise again.

And he did.

And I will always be watching Loving him, quietly. Loudly. Always.

I thought he was tired.

The tour had just wrapped, and I was ready to spend the next few days in sweats, ordering takeout, and massaging his knee every few hours while we watched movies.

But Seungcheol had other plans.

“Just trust me,” he said, grinning behind the wheel, his hand resting on my thigh. “Close your eyes.”

“Are you kidnapping me?”

“No,” he chuckled. “I’d never kidnap you. I’d ask you nicely and bribe you with iced coffee and forehead kisses.”

I sighed, already smiling. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I know.”

When we stopped, I opened my eyes and gasped.

He had set up a full picnic under a tall tree in a quiet park near the Han River. Blankets, cushions, lanterns, fairy lights strung through the branches above us.

But that wasn’t what got me.

What got me was the scrapbook that sat on top of the basket. And the small wooden box beside it carved with our initials. And a little folded card that read: “For every quiet day you stayed. For every time you held me when I couldn't stand. Let me give a piece of me back to you.”

I looked at him.

He smiled, a little nervously this time. “You always say I’m strong… but you’re the strongest person I know.”

He opened the scrapbook first.

Each page was hand-decorated with tiny drawings and messy glue stains. Photos of us silly ones, blurry ones, ones I didn’t even know existed. Captions like:

“She made me eat ramen three nights in a row but I still love her.”

“Taken 2 minutes before she cried watching a dog ad.”

“I don’t deserve her, but I’m never letting her go.”

Every now and then, a dried flower was taped in. Or a movie ticket. A Polaroid. A receipt.

“This is your love language, isn’t it?” I whispered, running my fingers over a photo of us at the beach.

He nodded. “It’s not loud. But it’s real.”

Then he opened the wooden box.

Inside: a pair of handmade pearl bracelets.

Simple. Elegant. One for him. One for me. Each with a tiny silver heart charm in the middle.

“I watched a dozen videos trying to learn how to tie them,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I messed up like seven times.”

I couldn’t stop smiling. “They’re perfect.”

“So are you,” he whispered.

Then came the final surprise.

He pulled out a small portable projector and turned it on against a white sheet strung between two tree trunks.

“A film?” I blinked.

He bit his lip. “something like that, yeah”

The screen lit up and I saw me.

Laughing. Dancing. Sleeping with my mouth slightly open. Painting. Walking away from the camera barefoot in the sand.

Clips from his phone. His camera. From months ago. From days ago. From nights I didn’t even know he was watching.

His voice, soft over the video: "I never say enough. So I made this. To say thank you. For not giving up on me when I couldn’t run. For seeing me when I tried to hide. For holding my heart gently, always."

He paused, his voice breaking.

"I love you. Not for what you do for me. But for who you are, when the world isn’t looking."

By the time it ended, I was crying. Like really crying. The kind that shakes in your chest and leaves your throat raw.

He turned to me, suddenly worried. “Too much?”

I launched into his arms, wrapping myself around him like the world might disappear if I didn’t.

“It’s everything, Cheol. It’s everything.”

That night, as we lay under the stars, his head on my stomach and my fingers in his hair, he whispered something so soft I almost missed it.

“I used to think performing was the best feeling in the world… But loving you like this? It beats every stage.”

And I whispered back, tears still quietly staining my cheeks:

“I’d sit in the crowd forever just to watch you smile.”

after 3 weeks, we were finally back in Korea. The tour was over. The surprise picnic had ruined me emotionally. And now… now Seungcheol was emotionally ruining himself trying to cook “breakfast for his baby.”

Keyword: trying.

“Why is the kitchen full of smoke?!”

I sprinted out of the bathroom, towel still on my head.

“I don’t know!! The pancakes attacked first!” he yelled from behind a spatula, flapping it like a fan.

There were exactly four smoke alarms going off. He had flour on his cheek, egg in his hair, and somehow… somehow… he had managed to set the banana milk carton on fire.

“How does banana milk catch fire?!”

“I DON’T KNOW, BABE, I WAS JUST TRYING TO MAKE IT CUTE!”

We ended up eating instant noodles and crying laughing while watching our old videos.

“I forgot I used to do that jump split move,” he groaned, rubbing his knee.

“You also used to wear those little suspenders. Iconic.”

He gave me the deadest stare. “Don’t bring that era up again. Please. I had trauma.”

“I’ll bring it up at our wedding.”

“What-”

“Nothing!” I sipped my soup innocently.

Later that day, we went for a walk, and he INSISTED on wearing flip flops. “Easy and breezy,” he said. “I’m a summer boyfriend.”

But karma came fast.

One of the straps snapped mid-step, and he dramatically collapsed like he had been shot in a K-drama.

“My life is over. Just go on without me.”

“You’re sitting on a squirrel path.”

“Let the forest creatures claim me.”

I had to drag him back home with one flip flop and one sock, while people stared and he waved like royalty.

“I am Choi Seungcheol, former K-pop legend, current nature spirit. I have ascended.”

That night, I caught him watching the video he made of me again.

“You’re obsessed with me,” I teased, flopping beside him.

“I really am,” he said, totally serious.

Then he showed me a picture of me sneezing and said: “Even like this, you’re the most beautiful human alive.”

I tried to get revenge.

The next morning, I woke up first, tied my hair back, put on the apron, and declared: “I’M making breakfast for my baby today!”

He looked nervous. “Have you ever cooked an egg in your life?”

“Emotionally, yes.”

“…No.”

Long story short:

I burned the toast. Forgot the stove was on. Set off two smoke alarms.

He walked into the kitchen wearing a cape made out of a towel and said:

“Fear not, my love, for your sick boyfriend-” “Boyfriend.” “for your BOYFRIEND will save this nation.”

And then he made pancakes from a box mix and acted like it was a Michelin-level meal.

Later, while cuddling on the couch with my head on his lap, he poked my cheek and whispered:

“You know what’s the best part of being with you?”

“Hm?”

“I get to be silly and serious. Strong and soft. I get to burn toast and still be your man.”

I looked up at him and grinned.

“You’ll always be my man. Even with one flip flop.”

[dollyswishingwell]

so idk how those things really work if I do it correctly by asking here or not but anyway.

I came up with this idea after Zayne kept turning his back (cuz I kept touching him 😔) at me when I was already having a bad day so I was thinking it would be something good to write.

Like the boys getting annoyed and turning their back on MC thinking she's going to get even more playful but she gets sad or something.

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ One of those days

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ flufff

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ You are a bit more sensitive today

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

- You’d been drawing on his face with eyeliner while he rested with his head on your lap. Humming songs while he was working on an art commission. Being your usual clingy self.

- He playfully pushed you away with a giggle,

“You’re sooo annoying, cutie. I’m turning my back on you now~”

- But when you stop touching him… he notices instantly.

- “Hello?” He turns. You’re curled up on the rug in silence, clutching one of his sweaters.

- Raf instantly crawls over and throws himself on top of you like a clingy cat.

“Waitwaitwait. I was teasing. You’re not actually sad, are you?”

- When you nod, he melts into your arms and hugs you tighter than ever.

- “You can be as annoying as you want. I live for your attention. Don’t stop. Not ever. I need it.”

- Pouts more than you do. “Now I’m sad too. You made us both sad.”

- You end up both curled under a blanket fort, drinking hot chocolate while Rafayel sings you songs with nonsense lyrics like

“I want my sunshine cupcake butter beer pearlie back~”

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

- You’d been poking at his cheeks while he was reading a medical journal, hiding his reading glasses, humming obnoxiously sweet songs while trailing behind him, and he gave you his classic exasperated doctor sigh, turning his back and muttering,

“If I ignore her, she’ll escalate. She always does.”

- But instead of upping the mischief, you suddenly go quiet. Curl up on the fainting couch in his office and just… sigh. Not in your usual over-the-top “pamper me now!” way, but a tiny, deflated kind of sigh.

- It takes Zayne precisely 14 seconds to sense something’s off. He blinks, glances back… and sees you hugging a pillow, not even looking at him.

- Closes his journal immediately. “Sweetheart?” His voice is low, clinical instinct kicking in, assessing. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”

- When you just mumble, “I thought you didn’t want to play with me anymore…”

- He’s at your side in two strides, kneeling in front of you, both hands gently cupping your cheeks.

“You little minx. You don’t get to say that when I want you around constantly.”

- Scoops you into his lap and murmurs cold-but-sweet reassurances like,

“You know I need my favorite emotional support wife. Stay close.”

- Then lets you play with his stethoscope while he cradles you.

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

- You were poking at his serious expression during one of his silent meditations. Bouncing on the bed while he journaled. Stealing his glasses off his nose. He sighed and mumbled,

“…If I stop reacting, maybe she’ll tire herself out.”

- So he turned his back to you and continued writing. Expecting soft giggles.

- But then it’s quiet. Too quiet.

- He blinks. Looks over his shoulder. You’re tucked into the blankets, holding his pillow, eyes misty.

- Immediately closes his journal, blinks slowly, then shifts to curl behind you like a sleepy cat.

“You’re not being bratty. You’re sad. Why didn’t you tell me?”

- Kisses your cheek, your neck, your shoulder, over and over. Wraps both arms around you and nestles his forehead to yours.

- Whispers like a lullaby,

“I don’t mind when you’re annoying. I want it. I like it. Don’t stop being you, starlight.”

- Will let you cling to him the entire rest of the night, even if it means he forgets to sleep in the weird chair he originally planned to nap in.

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

- You were being particularly irritating during one of his meetings: interrupting, sneaking kisses, sitting in his lap sideways while he reviewed plans.

- He gave you a sharp smirk and swatted your thigh

“Enough, kitty. I’ll punish you later if you keep that up.”

- You pouted and wandered off, but instead of your usual coy comeback, you curled up alone on the couch and went quiet.

- Ten minutes later, when he’s finished, he notices the eerie silence.

“Where’s my spoiled wife?”

- When he finds you with your face buried in a designer throw pillow, not even looking up, he immediately drops the cocky act.

- Sits down beside you and nudges your foot with his. “Hey.”

- You sniffle: “I thought you were actually mad at me…”

- His smug expression melts. He pulls you onto his lap, strokes your back with slow, possessive hands.

“You’re my most favorite form of chaos. Don’t go quiet on me, baby. Makes me think something’s actually wrong.”

- Brings you a gift, jewelry, a rare perfume, your favorite treat, not to spoil you (though he is) but to coax your sparkle back.

“C’mon. Annoy me again. Please kitten,”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

- You were playing with his uniform collar while he typed up military reports. Braiding your hair with his epaulettes.

- “Pips,” he warns, tone clipped, “if I turn my back, will you behave?”

- He turns his chair. Expects the usual pout or attempt to climb in his lap.

- But instead… nothing.

- When he glances back and sees you curled up with your knees to your chest, eyes wide and hurt, he freezes.

- “Sweetheart.” He’s kneeling in front of you in seconds, pulling you against his chest.

“I wasn’t really upset. I just thought you were being your usual mischief.”

- Wraps you tightly in his arms, lips brushing your temple.

- “You know I like your bratty little antics. You keep me from becoming a machine.”

- Carries you to bed like a princess and stays with you the rest of the day, brushing your hair and whispering,

“You never need to quiet yourself around me. You’re my light.”

- Will lecture anyone who dares say you’re annoying again. Only he gets to be exasperated, lovingly.

[starset21]

Tagged and Dragged

Pairing: Isack Hadjar x reader

Vibe: Meme chaos → playful banter → lowkey flirting

Standard disclaimer: I do not consent to the posting, translating, or publishing of my work to any 3rd party site, the only place it may found is on tumblr or A03 under the same name. This is all fake. It does not reflect real people, real events or their actual actions or relationships. May contain google translated languages.

You didn’t mean to tag Isack Hadjar in the meme.

You were just scrolling, sleep-deprived and dangerously confident, deep into a late-night motorsport meme spiral. It was supposed to be a throwaway post for your mutuals to laugh at:

“Bro’s hair looks like he argued with a leaf blower and lost 💀💀💀” (Attached: a wild screencap of Isack post-helmet, mid-interview, curls in disarray.)

It was meant to be private. Funny. Anonymous. What it was not meant to be was tagged directly to @ isackhadjar.

But it was. And the internet, cruel and fast, noticed.

Your heart sinks. Your eyes widen. You click the tweet in panic—yep, that blue tag is real. Verified. Active. Alive.

And worse?

He saw it.

Because within three minutes, you get a DM notification:

@ isackhadjar:

Brutal. At least follow me if you’re gonna roast me. 👀

You do what any reasonable person would do. You scream into your pillow.

Then you type back:

@ Y/Nofftrack:

OH MY GOD I THOUGHT YOU WERE A FAN ACCOUNT I’M SO SORRY

Unless… you are a fan of leaf blowers In which case the post was… support?? innovation?? themed content??? okay I’ll delete myself now

He replies faster than expected:

@ isackhadjar:

Nah don’t. That was kinda funny. I respect the commitment. Helmet hair is undefeated. Happens to the best of us. Especially me. But I will be starting a personal war with leaf blowers now. Just FYI.

You blink at your phone. Is he... actually cool about this?

@ Y/Nofftrack:

Honestly? Your curls bounced back by the next frame. Resilience like that deserves a sponsor Dyson better start calling

@ isackhadjar:

Dyson collab where I just stand in front of a wind tunnel with sad music playing Caption: “He trusted the airflow.” 😔

You laugh. This is ridiculous. And somehow... adorable.

@ Y/Nofftrack:

I could make a redemption meme But I feel like I deserve compensation Like a paddock pass. Or pad thai. Or both. You know. For emotional damages.

His reply comes in three parts:

@ isackhadjar:

Deal. Paddock pass, pad thai, and a dramatic hair flip next time I podium. But only if you retire the leaf blower slander And start tagging me in hot pics instead My PR team is starving

You pause. Blink again. That’s flirting. Right?

@ Y/Nofftrack:

“Hot pics” You’re acting like I didn’t just post a cursed screenshot of you mid-blink Be serious I don’t even have Photoshop. I have Canva and chaos…but if you’re volunteering your angles Say less.

@ isackhadjar:

Canva and chaos is honestly my brand We’d be unstoppable

Then:

Also— Are you the type to soft launch me before we’ve even met? Because you give off “cryptic Instagram caption” energy

You’re smiling. Like, actually smiling. It’s 1:37 a.m. and you’re blushing over DMs from a guy who drives 300 km/h for a living and just admitted his hair has its own agenda.

@ Y/Nofftrack:

Look. If you keep sending messages like this, I am going to call you “someone’s son” and post blurry photos with no context. This is your warning.

@ isackhadjar:

Do it. Soft launch me. Just use a good filter Or the worst one Make the curls look like they achieved sentience

The DMs don’t stop.

What begins as memes turns into reactions to each other’s stories. Inside jokes. Middle-of-the-night messages. He teases your sense of humor. You roast his outfits. He sends you a photo of his post-race hair captioned “Today they won.”

And when you casually post a story from the grandstands at Spa, not even tagging him, he messages you in all caps:

@isackhadjar:

YOU’RE HERE?? I DIDN’T EVEN GET MY REDEMPTION MEME HUG THIS IS A SCANDAL I need at least one hug For morale. For the curls. For justice Maybe two

You grin down at your phone like it’s harboring a secret. Your fingers hover over the keyboard before you type:

@ Y/Nofftrack:

One hug Two if your hair behaves Three if you make podium

You can’t believe you’re doing this. Not the going-to-the-race part—you’ve done that before. But this? Walking through the paddock with a digital pass in your email, a Red Bull guest lanyard around your neck, and the knowledge that Isack Hadjar is waiting to meet you? Yeah. That’s new. Your stomach’s a little too aware of it.

He’d messaged you the night before:

If I don’t see you tomorrow, I’ll assume you ran away from your own meme legacy. Or got lost in merch. I respect both tbh.

Now, you're here. And you're nervous. You scroll your messages, cheeks warm. He sent one 10 minutes ago:

I’m done with media. You around?

You reply:

Yep. Hanging near the sim tent. Not hiding. Definitely not hiding. (okay maybe like 40% hiding)

Your phone buzzes almost instantly.

On my way. Don’t move. Or flinch. I’m hugging you. This has been pending for weeks.

You barely have time to process it before you hear your name.

"Hey!"

You turn—and there he is.

Isack, in his Red Bull team tee and race suit halfway down his waist, arms loose at his sides, curls doing their usual defiant thing. He’s smiling, and it’s so warm, so casual, like this is normal. Like you’re not about to explode from sheer nervous tension.

“Hi,” you say, which is… fine. Not your best work.

He laughs. “Hi? After all that? You meme-bullied me for weeks and you showed up with hi?”

You open your mouth to reply—something witty, something cool—but instead you say, “You look taller in person.”

His smile turns into a smirk. “That’s what the boots are for.”

He steps forward, hesitating for a beat before opening his arms. “C’mon. I’m collecting my race-weekend hug. Don’t make me fight you.” 

Your heart leaps. But you step into it.

The hug is fast at first—quick, friendly—but then he doesn’t let go. Not right away. His arms tighten just slightly. It’s warm. And kind of perfect. You try not to overthink it, but you can feel your heart going wild. When you pull back, you’re smiling like an idiot.

“So,” you say, “Was the hug everything you dreamed?”

Isack grins. “I don’t want to be dramatic but… it might’ve powered the car this weekend.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re impossible.”

He shrugs. “You knew what this was.”

There’s a pause.

He looks at you for a second longer than necessary, then lifts a hand toward your face. “Wait—can I?”

You freeze. “Can you…?”

He leans in, gently ruffling your hair like he’s mimicking your cursed meme. “Balance has been restored,” he says, voice soft. “Now we’re even.”

You laugh, a little breathless. “So dramatic.”

He drops his hand but doesn’t step away. His fingers linger at your arm for a beat, just brushing.

Then he says, more seriously, “I’m really glad you came.”

You meet his gaze. “Yeah. Me too.”

And just as you think the moment’s about to end—he dips forward quickly, presses a soft kiss to your cheek, and pulls back like it’s no big deal.

Like it didn’t just short-circuit your brain.

He smirks, already stepping away. “That was for good luck,” he says. “And maybe because I wanted to.”

Before you can answer, he glances over his shoulder with a wink. “Stay close. I might need another hug after quali.”

You stand there, flustered and grinning like a complete fool.

And yeah… you’re absolutely soft launching him now.

[purplecrkl]

(Wrote this two years ago and never posted it. Now that I have free time, I want to practice writing again!! I have no idea where this was going, but it’s my first time writing something, so hopefully it makes some sense 💀)

Also I pictured Daniel as Aaron Taylor Johnson from that one BLACK AND WHITE AD URGH 😩 #freeATJ 😔✊🏼

—————————————————

(10 years earlier)

“Tell me to stay. Tell me, if I choose to walk away, you will never speak to me again. Tell me I’m making the biggest mistake of my life. Tell me-“

“Tell me you know how to start a sentence without using ‘tell me’, right?”

“Tell me you’re an asshole without *telling* me you’re an asshole. How’s that?” I say back. Daniel, unfazed by remark, reaches for a pillow on my bed, hurling it at the side of my head. Carefully dodging the laptop showing the unfinished script of my latest story.

“I’m just saying, you’re reaching. I mean come on, no one actually says this stuff. Let alone out loud in an airport. Imagine the looks you’d get if we held up the line like that at Heathrow. I’d barely have time to spit the second line out before security kicked us out. Not to mention the ‘No Fly List’ we’d be put on, and rightfully so.”

This has been our routine since we met in 8th grade. Now, both in college, Daniel remains the only person I share my stories with. The path to becoming a screenwriter is long and treacherous but Daniel had always been supportive of my dreams. If there was anything I could count on him for, it was his brutal honesty. He would never tell me what I wanted to hear, and was always careful to reel me in whenever I was too harsh on myself.

While I wrote, Daniel would sketch quietly on my bed. He had dreams of becoming an architect and could talk my ear off about the ingenuity of various finite materials, how brutalist architecture is his least favourite style and why he’d move to Japan in a heartbeat because timber burnt houses had proven to increase the lifespan of its tenants.

Truthfully I think his desire to create a home that stood the test of time had to do with the fact he hadn’t experienced one himself. Mr and Mrs Keating weren’t bad people per se, they were just bad parents. Daniel didn’t remember much about his childhood. Bringing up the past never bode well for him. A feat Daniel was cruelly reminded of when he was asked to recall his favourite part about his seventh birthday at school the next day.

“My Lego bike”, he said proudly.

“And when I saw daddy kissing mummy in the library.”

The kids in his class let out a chorus of ‘ews’, whilst sneaking glances at who they’d declare their love for in the playground later that day.

Mrs Keating apparently cherished that moment too, going as far as giving it its own highlighted section in the divorce papers she served Mr Keating with the following weekend. A memory she would have no recollection of, if it weren’t for Daniel’s reminder. And after both parties agreed to sell the house, cashing in a hefty cheque large enough to erase 7 years of marriage, Daniel had barely managed to pack his favourite toys before he was waving goodbye to the house he grew up in. To hell with that library, he thought.

Though I didn’t know him back then, anyone could have guessed using your child to communicate the failings of the other parent; then shipping him off to boarding school when he refused to choose a side would end in serious emotional unrest in said kid. To this day, Daniel refuses to subject himself to any notion of love in fear of repeating his parents mistakes.

“God, I cannot wait for the day Daniel Keating confesses his undying love in the middle of an airport” I say, while crawling my way into the space beside him. A loud scoff erupts from his chest and it’s my favourite sound I’ve heard all day. But then it’s silent for a beat too long and I’m afraid I’ve offended him with such a preposterous idea. Daniel, capable of love? Ha.

In a second he’s up on his feet, pacing the room with my laptop in hand. He studies my script for a few seconds and it takes all I have to not stare at him too long. But it’s Daniel Keating. And in the last six years I’ve known him, I’ve stolen enough glances to confidently recite every part of him in my sleep.

Almost, every part.

A quiet chuckle brings me back and I’m scared he’s finally caught me staring this time. He hasn’t. And although it’s impossible to see anything beyond the dark cesspool of cocoa in his eyes, I still catch that devilish glint when he stalks towards me.

“Tell me to stay Lex,” he says.

If his head full of curls weren’t brushing against his ears, I’m sure he would’ve heard my heart stop.

“Tell me you’ll never speak to me again, if I choose to walk away.”

That’s impossible, I want to say. You could walk away a million times and I’d welcome you back a million and one.

Daniel reaches me on the bed and I’m certain if I don’t take a breath in the next second my respiratory system will take ‘you’ll never speak to me again’ quite literally. Does Heaven give out ‘do-overs’ for misunderstandings like this? It’s not like I meant to stop breathing. Blame the boy currently intertwining my hand with his.

“Tell me, I’m making the biggest mistake of my life Lex.”

He cups my cheek, and I wonder if he’s noticed I’ve come undone in the palm of his hand. I wonder if he knows everything I’ve written up to this point has been about him.

About us.

I’m certain I’ve stopped breathing. But I’m not worried. There are worse ways to go out, than having Daniel Keating here with me, like this. So with my hand in his right, and my heart in his other, I make a vow right then and there. To love him with everything I have.

Daniel.

I will love you when you stay.

I will love you if you choose to walk away.

But most importantly, I will continue to love you even if it turns out to be the biggest mistake of my life.

And it is.

[sungbeam]

hi friend as your biggest fan u already know im always gonna hype u up so have my lengthy answers to the ask game:

1. My fav fic of yours - flight risk......im pretty sure its the first fic of yours ive ever read but oh god its SO good erics character and everything abt it ??? Had me feeling butterflies so many times i screamed and yelled into my pillow. Also inspired me a lot in my writing slump and like... i dont wanna be cheesy but helped me mentally bc i read it when i was having a rough time 😭👍 but also PARTY PEOPLE !!!!! so good. SO so good. oh and also the sunwoo hoodie drabble owns my ass i reread it like 5 times already

2. My fav chapter in my fav fic of yours - not my fav fic but the kiss scene in the practice room in off the record ??? slaps

3. The best character youve written for - swing my way eric honestly. so authentic to him imo TT i just adore his character in that fic a whole lot.

6. Something i remember vividly - that scene from flight risk when eric asked sunwoo if he wants to go skate w them and sunwoo goes "no, im down" and eric is like wtf and so sunwoo goes "no, im down. laying down in my bed" or something (the memory is not 100% vivid as u can see) but I legit slapped my knee that was PEAK COMEDY for me

7. Something that made me emotional after reading - that one chapter of somewhere only we know when intak describes how he wishes he could hear his brothers voice sometimes because if he missed him in that way maybe it would hurt less. That whole series is...very personal to me in sense of grief :,)

8. What i like the most about your writing - THE UNIVERSES U CREATE and like. The friendships and the characterization of each character and how theyre all their own person and not just a tool for plot. Also your comedy in fics it always has me giggling

9. A fic im excited for you to post - sangyeons love in unity fic bc i need to know whats up w that secret gf

12. A fic of yours ive reread - hoodie talk LMAO

13. Have i talked to anyone else abt your fics - yes i fangirled to my friend abt u multiple times also we talked abt rhapsody anonymous after it came out 😭👍

YOU. i will actually ksbfkenfkndkfnf 😭 i love u, bar !!! ur support of me has literally been the saving grace to my writing motivation; every time i write something, i always have u in the back of my mind and i wonder what you'd say/react and if you'll like it 🤧

makes me really happy to hear that my writing helped you through a rough time in your life 😔 i wrote party people and flight risk and even hoodie talk during a ,,, emotionally stiff part of my life where i felt super isolated and emotionally constipated, so it's good to know that the feelings i wanted translated *were* translated correctly, if that makes sense

HELLO I LOVE THE PRACTICE ROOM KISS TOO SKFNDKFNJFNF sorry coughs uhm haha def not like biased or anything *looks away*

OMG THAT LINE FROM FLIGHT RISK 💀 i actually thought i was so clever for that one, thank u for mentioning it and sknfkd YAY thank god u found it funny 😭😭 IN GENERAL, the fact that u find me funny at ALL is like ,,, im punching the sky rn im actually celebrating 🤧

ik i prob said this in the reblog of that one chapter of the intak fic, but that series also holds a really tender place in my heart :') grief is one of the things i feel like isn't written abt very much here, and i always seem to leave traces of it wherever i go, so it's nice to know someone can connect to the grief theme </3

thank you thank you thank you for all you've done for me (more than you even know), and for just being so flippin cool :'))) 💖

[cloudninetonine]

You know what…I have a proposal.

Remember when I said the chain are much stronger and everything is much more rough and rugged (think that’s the word I wanna use?) than Player is used to? Adding on to that rn:

Starting off small we have high fives with the chain being a nightmare. Callous and scar covered hands, as lovely as they are, are a little less easy to handle when yours get shattered by it being attached to arms that can bench goats. Same goes with hand shakes and pats on the back. Poor Player is getting LAUNCHED. Dibs on mine doing the Goofy “YAAAAHOOHOOHOOOOOEYYY” scream.

Sharing a bed roll or sleeping area with any of em, nice right? Well think AGAIN bc if one of those dense boned goobers roll on you I’ll have to transfer your stencil thin body onto a memorial T-shirt for you Stinka Butt💚 Flatter than Time’s behind. A true shame. Lighters up everyone.

Trying to play fight or intimidate any of them?? Not happening. They’ll have to pull the “Lion parent pretending to be hurt to make the cub feel better” tactic after a while. Your serious vs their serious are two completely different emotions. Unless you’re a lawyer I bet two shiny pennies most in this here daycare center can’t mean mug like any of these possible [war] criminals/j. Player looks like the embodiment of the squeaky toy noise, but the others have weapons so they may have an unfair advantage.

Player being the most huggable. With our advanced modern technology of “Soft on soft feel good” I’m willing to bet that their skin is much softer than the dudes who wear potato sack textured shirt chic😔. Player can be chub or non chub but regardless they are the emotional support teddy bear for Wind, Rule, Wild, and at some point Sky, Four, Twi, and ironically Legend. Don’t worry this is a symbiotic relationship, both receive well needed hugs AND Player gets their back cracked.

On the Player’s end?? They’re giving the Chain a MUCH more lavish idea of their life before they arrived than they actually had. For instance, Player talks about missing their piles of blankets, plushies, pillows, etc and the dudes just imagine what essentially sounds like a palace of clouds to them. Player insists it wasn’t much then goes on to mention plush slippers they got from the store and the dudes are just “😀”. Walmart doesn’t exist in sewage street time babe they don’t know what 70% off is😔

Hopefully my thoughts weren’t TOO all over the place😭!

—🍐

Player is Fed Up with a capital 'f' especially because Wind likes to tease them all about it.

Player wanting to playfully arm wrestle Wild just to nearly have their arm ripped in two (Hyrule screamed Wild's ear off while healing their ache because he's soft for them and Wild didn't know what to do.)

When Wind is able to knock them over they scream cry into their pillow in utter embarrassment, while the boy is prancing about like some fucking peacock strutting his none existent muscles until they tackle him.

And when it comes to the bed the boys dogpile into it, Player fights to sleep in their own bed because it's so comfy compared to theirs back in Hyrule.

[theloveinc]

when u and Dabi become official, he steals one of ur t-shirts and uses it as a pillowcase, and holds it v close and never washes it even tho he drools quite a bit🥰

You find the shirt-pillow-case a couple weeks (months?) later and it smells SO greasy. Probably turned a weird, off-shade, too, from all the dirt it's accumulated... yet Dabi still tries to fight you about washing it because he's afraid you'll take it away from him.

(The only reason he finally agrees is because you threaten not to sleep next to him if he brings it in bed with you... and even then, he stands right behind you when you're taking it out of the dryer just so he can snatch it right back and hide it away for another 3-5 months).

You already know he refused your offer to get him a real case a long time ago, too. It's the shirt or nothing for him adfjkkadjf, his emotional support dirty laundry.

Heart eyes smh😔💕

[mauvefayette6]

Heyyy I was wondering if you could write a Male reader x Charlie dalton where the squad finds out about their relationship and are totally supportive and kind of just... them

I just love the dead poets society 😔

Pls undead Neil 😶

Anyways thank you

hi this is my first time doing requests! sorry if it wasn’t exactly what you pictured but i really tried! thank you for your request <3!

Not So Secret

master list

It was the 1970s, you were 20 now. Things weren't getting any more lenient when it came to gay love. But you couldn't suppress your emotions and your thoughts. You wouldn't dare come out to your friends of course. You were proud but you weren't crazy.

Nothing was simple when all your friends were straight, or at least that's what they told you. It wasn't direct but just the way they acted told you they were straight.

You couldn't confine in anyone in fear they'll react in a bad way. You and Charlie were walking the halls of the uni you two went to.

Charlie was going on and on about the girl he met yesterday and how he wants to introduce you to her friend.

"Charlie!" You shouted looking at him, "enough with the girls!" You stormed away and to your dorm room. You didn't mean for an outburst like that but you couldn't help but feel frustrated.

You flopped onto your bed, your face on your pillow as you softly cried, letting the frustration out. You heard a knock before someone entered, closing the door slightly.

"(Y/n)?" Charlie's voice said, he sat at the edge of your bed, "want to talk about it?"

"No, I'm okay. Just overwhelmed.” You grumbled, Charlie sighed and patted your leg.

“I know something is up, it’s best to let it go,” he whispered and you shrugged sitting up and looking into his eyes.

“I’m gay,” you whispered. He didn’t answer, he stayed quiet.

“That’s okay, I’m sure everyone else will be okay with that,” he smiled and you shook your head.

“No one else should know,you have to swear to keep it a secret.” He sighed and nodded, you extended your pinky and he laughed but took it.

Charlie swore to keep your secret until you were ready. You confided in him with all your secrets, good and bad. Without realizing you had fallen in love with him.

Everything about him made your face heat up. The way he styled his hair in the morning, the way he smiled at you. Everything he did, his mannerisms, his jokes. You wished you could just kiss him, you wished you could tell him how you felt.

But Charlie wasn’t like you, or at least as far as you knew he swung the other way.

“(Y/n), can I tell you something? But promise to keep it a secret?” He said sitting on your bed next to you. You sat up and rested your book on your lap.

He looked into your eyes and you looked into his. Nothing was spoken as he leaned in and kissed you. You wouldn’t admit but that was your first kiss and you were glad it was Charlie. You smiled as he pulled away. He rested his fore head on yours holding your hand.

“I’ve fallen in love with you, I didn’t want to admit it, but everything about you drives me crazy. You complete me (Y/n) (L/n),” he whispered and kissed you again. You kissed him back.

“Be my boyfriend Charlie Dalton?” You whispered and he giggled and nodded his head giving you another quick kiss.

“I must admit this is the first time I kissed somebody and felt all warm inside,” he laughed and you grinned.

And just like that, you two began to date. Of course it all had to be in secret, it wasn’t like you two could just hold hands in public like nothing.

Charlie would steal kisses every once in a while when no one was looking. He held your hand under the desk and under tables when you two went out with friends.

You two would sit close to each other when you two went on secret dates to the theater. All his poems were dedicated to you although all of it was a secret.

He had to keep up the persona of being straight in front of everyone and sometimes it hurt you when you saw girls flirting with him, but what could you do?

“Charlie!” A young girl shouted running up to him and wrapping her arm around his arm pulling him close. He gave you a look and you shrugged, Charlie looked at the girl awkwardly.

The rest of the group noticed the tension giving each other suspicious looks.

None of them were aware that you two were dating, to them you two were just really close friends and there was nothing wrong with it. You two had been friends for a long time.

The girl said good bye to Charlie as you scoffed quietly not looking at any of them. You continued to walk, you picked up your pace before running into your dorm room locking the door.

You knew you shouldn’t have outbursts like this but it angered you not being able to tell girls to back off and that Charlie was in a two year long committed relationship with you, another boy. But how were you supposed to tell your friends?

“(Y/n)?” Charlie said from behind the door, you didn’t feel like talking to him.

“Go away Charles!” You shouted and he sighed banging his head on the door before walking away.

Another knock was followed after, “I said go away Charlie!”

“It’s not Charlie,” a soft voice spoke, you instantly recognized it as Todd Anderson’s voice.

You unlocked the door allowing him in, he sat on your bed and you sat on the floor across from him. You two sat in silence before he decided to talk.

“You alright?” He asked and you shrugged. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t know Todd, everything’s so complicated, I just don’t understand anything…” You whispered your head now on top of your knees.

“You don’t have to make sense, you can just say what’s in your heart,” he smiled and you smiled back.

“It’s Charlie. I love Charlie and Charlie loves me back, and we can’t be public and it irks me when other girls hit on him and he can’t say or do anything and I can’t say or do anything,” you sighed and Todd nodded.

“Would you like advice? Or do you want me to just listen?” He asked and you shrugged.

“I don’t know, I would like advice, you’re very wise,” you complimented and he blushed.

“Think about the bright side. University won’t last forever and once you’re out of here then you two can be together,” he smiled. You nodded but didn’t say anything.

“Thanks Todd, I would really like if you didn’t tell anyone about this,” he nodded, you again extended your pinky which he took with a smile.

He walked out and you sat on your bed where Todd once was. Charlie walked in, you didn’t say anything so Charlie sat besides you. You rested your head on his shoulder and you played with your hair/hands.

“I’m sorry Charlie. I told Todd about us, and I’m sorry for my outburst.” He nodded but didn’t say anything.

“Do you think it’s time to tell everyone else?” He whispered and you shrugged.

“I think so, I think it’d be smart to tell them but I don’t know,” you played with his hands and he rested his head on top of yours.

You two came up with the plan to tell them, you adored them and were scared of their rejection but knew that whatever happened was going to happen.

Everyone gathered in your dorm room, they all were chatting up and being happy. You didn’t want it to end, you were scared that they’ll all reject you and never talk to you again.

“Shall we?” Charlie whispered and you nodded. He held your hand as you called for their attention.

“Poets, I have an announcement,” you smiled and they all looked at you and at Charlie.

Neil grinned and Todd smiled, maybe it had slipped from Todd’s lips about you and Charlie dating.

“Charlie and I, will we are together.” You said looking at them, “we are a couple.”

Everyone smiled and stood up congratulating you and Charlie, hugs and pats.

“This calls for a celebration!” Neil shouted smiled and “bro hugging” you two. “Let’s go to your favorite restaurant!”

“Thats like a thirty(30) minute drive,” you chuckled.

“Doesn’t matter, I better be best man at your stinking wedding or I will murder you both,” Neil winked and you laughed.

You never expected things to turn out like this way. You didn’t expect your friends to accept you, that’s a bad thing yes. Seeing how open they were to you and Charlie dating, everything was perfect.

At that moment, a moment you wished never would end, you knew you would tell this moment to your kids and to your grand kids. The day you became complete, the day all your worries went away.

The day you and Charlie would never forget, a day with the Poets, a day of pure happiness and memories that will last forever.

[bokuroskitten]

hi L do you like bokuto?

Hi nonnie do I still like bokuto—?

DO I STILL LIKE BOKUTO??!?

Bokuto and his big big titties that I can suck on for hours 😔 leave purplish and pink marks of my teeth and lips scattered across the skin 😔 and then shamelessly use them as pillows for 6 hours— HES not going anywhere, he can’t he’s mine I need him and his honkers on stand by they are my emotional support honkers

Bokuto and his adorable lil face that I just wanna kiss all the time hello even when he’s pouting I’d bite his bottom lip so fast are you KIDDING he’s just begging me to pick on him and bite him 24/7 god I love him so much wtf

Bokuto and his fine FINE ass body that he works on every day and I’m so proud of him 😩 he’s working out constantly and eating well and taking good care of his body even if I have to remind him to drink water cause he hates the plain taste HSBNSAK but he just looks so good, every time I check him out (which a lot, about 95% of the day) I find a new muscle flexing like what the FUCK this man is Adonis and I love it please throw me against the wall and have your way with m—

Bokuto who likes to remind me how pretty I am all the time cause he’s just as big of a simp as I am HEJWJ OMGGGGG he likes to just like take my face into his big ass hands and squishes my cheeks and stares like a lil weirdo for five minutes <333 finally all cute and shit he’s like “you’re just— you’re so pretty”

His boobs may be my fav but you know what so are his thighs I need his thighs to survive they are my life line. But I also wanna be smothered by them. Lowkey I’ve left scars of my teeth on there I’m sorry (but I’m not lowkey it’s fine) and it’s the perfect place for me to rest my head when I’m really sleepy but also the perfect place for me to rest my head when I wanna suck the life outta his big thick cock :333

So uh— yea nonnie I still like bokuto I think

[bluesideofzha]

Crying in Borahae

kenapa aku bisa sesayang itu sama bangtan?? kenapa tidak dari dulu nge-stan mereka?? kenapa dulu gak kepikiran buat cari tahu lirik-lirik lagu mereka (yg padahal so relatable sama hidup yg messy ini)?? kenapa dulu gak support mereka pas mereka lagi jatuh-jatuhnyaa??

i wish i could know them at the beginning. kan bisa jadi nambah alasan buat bertahan hidup, from those many reasons. nambah semangat buat nguli buat bisa nonton euphoria konser merekaaaaaaa 😭

andai LA itu sedekat Lenteng Agung, mau war dapetin concert ticket yang harus sikut-sikutan macem squid game mah ayookk.

dan aku membenci diri ini yg masih misqiiiienn hahaha.

ya gimana??

imagine if i'm going 😔

...

what if Jungkook will surprise them by singing the song he made during his birthday live?? and suddenly crying so hard after his damn 2 years off?? he easily cry, right?? or performing "My Time" with unbuttons shirt and dancing by flexing his abs and throwing his hair back and lil water droplets on his chest?

what if RM will sing "Forever Rain"? or "Everything Goes"?? or another songs in his mono mixtape?? with his new short hair cut and his sexy brain as always?? and make me feel like "Mono" is listening to me. no one understand me. Only "Mono" understands me.

what if V will make me sob my heart out (again) when he finally sing "Sweet Night" on the stage, that made my pillow full of tears after listening it on my very first time, at 3AM, after a very hard and long day?? 😭😭 and seeing him just trying to hold back his tears while staring his universe?? and say "we purple you"?

what if J-hope showing his powerful and hip thrust dance break while singing "Bapsae" that made me curious about them, for the very first time knowing BTS?? that energy so 🔥(who is this guy?? i'm almost choked!) and seeing him with teary eyes is just....hits different!!

what if Jimin will flirt you on purpose with smile eyes, when you're so close to him??on the same sky, on the same place, on the same time?? and suddenly weeping with joy like JK in front of you? and singing "Louder Than Bombs" with his angelic voice?

what if they will sing "Mic Drop", and Suga sings his part while flexing he is actually not doing lipsync (dear haters, look at this!!)?? i love the way he raps , and yeah he's my bias🔥

what if 3J (JK, Jimin, J-Hope) will be back on the stage while dancing "Butter feat Megan"??

aaannddd..... what if Coldplay and Bangtan are on the same stage together?? Coldplayers and ARMY unite. and imagine it in the middle of "My Universe" 😭

i just cant!!!

i really hope there will be a livestream. it's going to be so emotional.. till i realize that we are in different timezone and i will be staying up all night haahh??? 🤣

one more thing... well.. this is LA, so you also fighting celebrities for tickets 😭

good luck US ARMYs for the hunger games for the tickets 💜🎉

and please go be vaccinated before buying the tickets. pleaseplease have negative swab test results!! the safety of BTS lies in our hands. And remember... the media LOVES NEGATIVE PRESS. They will take chance to get misleading and clickbait headlines. haters gonna be haters. one wrong move, and all fingers will point towards BTS.

*sigh*

well, someday, i will....

[peppermint003]

woah! this was quite the wild ride! it was an amazing experience reading this story!!

honestly, i was kinda confused at first “with a frantic breath, nails digging into his chest as he jumped awake, stiles tried to focus on where he was. there was clammy sweat covering his palms, fist clenched tightly with marks from his nails on the skin, and his forehead was shinning and wet too. he felt uneasy, crawling in his own skin as he adjusted in the uncomfortable chair, blinking himself back to consciousness.” but then as i kept reading, everything made sense: his pain, his agony, his worry, his sadness, his anger and his guilt 😔 i legit teared up reading the first half of this story!

your words portrayed his anguish and hopelessness at seeing the girl he loved fighting for her life in a hospital bed & his guilt and anger, blaming himself for the events that lead up to her being hurt and on the verge of death! “baby, i know i said some things, but i need you to wake up and yell at me for them now, okay? his voice trembled as he spoke, the sound of his own angry voice on his head making him wince. he could barely even remember now why he’d been so angry, because in retrospect, it wasn’t all that big of a surprise. he’d done a background check on you, and nothing about the lifestyle you led had been normal. long before he’d fallen in love with you, stiles had realized that you were no stranger to a gang lifestyle. please, darling. i don’t care if you hate me, if you scream and yell, i don’t even care if you don’t want to see me again. i just need to see those pretty eyes again, and know that you’re gonna’ be alright.” the desperation in his voice when talking to her, begging her to wake up! & the blame he holds on himself… the guilt that’s eating him up “i’ll make it up to you, baby, i promise.” & “and leave her here alone?yeah, because that went so well the last time.” 🥺😭

i love the support his friends gave him! scott, “she won’t be alone, i’ll stay. you should go home and shower, you look like you committed a murder. if she wakes up, i’ll call you. go and get some rest, and i’ll stay and watch over. nothing will happen to her.” & “yeah. she’s good, she had some water, my moms checking her over, i just signed her discharge papers. i’m going to bring her home, alright? she’s a little bit groggy, and quite grumpy.” issac, “need a ride?” lydia, “some of your girls belongings. i assumed assumed you’d want her within your sights when she was discharged, i wasn’t thinking you’d want her going home to a place with no front door and the fresh memories of almost being murdered in her sleep?” 💙

when he was alone though, that’s when a couple tears escaped my eyes, it’s like all the emotions he was feeling and his thoughts were intensified by 100! “his fist swung back, and angry cry leaving him as he powered his hand on the tile before him, his knuckles letting out a sick crack and his skin tearing as he punched at the wall. despite the pain, he did it again and again, until blood was dripping along his wrist and the only thing he could picture would be your face as you looked at him, telling him to stop before offering to patch him up.” 🥺😭

reading about his nightmares hurt because he can’t sleep nor rest because those horrifying images of past events plague his mind and disrupt his peace…. “your pyjamas were sitting out on the pillow beside him, his fingers reaching out, pads running over the soft and silky material of the pale purple night set you wore. his eyes were closing, and instead of letting the guilt sweep away at him once more, he chose instead to let his mind drift, to imagine you were laying by his side instead. he hugged the pillow with your sleepwear on closer to his chest, nose dipping to bury in the silk top, and the smell of you comforted him more than anything else had yet.” she is his safety, his peace 🥺

i think it’s absolutely sweet how he got his house ready for her stay, for her to be comfortable at his place “…he’d moved everything from the highest and lowest shelves up to a middle level, easily reachable, and pushed the furniture slightly further apart to make sure you had plenty of room to move around…he’d laid out a skin sensitive, wound friendly sail and shampoo set on the edge of the bath…” it’s so lovely and sweet how he cares for her and how gentle he is with her! & when he helps her out while taking a bath and then that kiss that portrayed so much love!!! & the fact that he had been handling her businesses for her is fucking sweet of him! and them talking about the accident and him apologizing and her being understanding and forgiving, i think was healing to them both! 💛

“nothing, it’s just that…i’m pretty sure theo stole my cat.” & then stiles actually rescues her cat because theo d i d take the kitty!! i kinda didn’t believe it at first but then…“don’t fucking claw me, i’m saving your life. i could leave you here.” 🐱

stiles going after theo and ending it had me like ‘fucking yes!!’ theo felt all the pain he caused to both stiles and the girl he loved and he would never be able to do it again…it’s probably toxic and unhealthy of me to think that theo and malia got what they deserved ?

the ‘i love you’ exchanged between them after everything is over, is like a happy ever after for them!! “i kind of already did move you in, i’d be pretty put out if you said no.” & “i think that’s a yes from from us both.” the kitty has approved therefore it’s official 😻

this was dark but romantic….a dark romance and i liked it! thank you, queen 🤍

runaways | mafia!void

word count; 12,365

summary; mob-boss Stiles Stilinski owns the neighbourhood, and the city, and he knows it. but, someone new moves in across the street to his building, and flips his world upside down, with her own secrets to hide.

notes; oddly romantic for void, but still definitely a lot darker than normal stiles would be. 

warnings; violence, death, injury, gore, drug dealing, torture, murder, reference to abuse, reference to animal abuse.

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