#someone who i matter to as much as they matter to me

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ me & my husband ]❜

ft. the salesman (gong ji-cheol) x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ you don’t need your husband to be perfect, you just want him to be honest┊3.3k words

contains: written before s2 came out!! probably ooc or inaccurate, angst with spots of fluff & a bittersweet ending? reader’s pov mostly, suspicions of cheating, lack of communication, mentioned age gap, random inaccurate lore for the salesman

➤ author's note: yeah, i saw the sudden uptick in notes on that gong yoo post i made and realized season 2 came out which i completely forgot about. i intend to watch it soon as possible and write fics for it as well as (probably) add new characters to my writing list, but for now, please be content with this!!

₊˚ʚ 💌₊˚✧ this fic was heavily inspired by “emotionally intoxicated” by aurasaurora!

gong ji-cheol is the poster image for the ideal husband. he’s always been like that from the moment you met him, and you can’t help but feel like you’re the luckiest woman in the world when he calls himself yours. he’s tall and handsome, someone who catches everyone’s eye despite his only being focused on you. he’s wealthy and hard-working, able to call a luxurious mansion your home, and willing to buy you anything your heart desires as long as you ask for it. he spoils you rotten with that money, gifting you expensive things even if you didn’t ask if it reminded him of you. he’s doting, always sure to smother you in affection with kisses and cuddles whenever together to make it known how much he adores you. the sex is great too, he makes you feel wanted and desirable without ever leaving you unsatisfied. 

most importantly though, you love him, and he loves you. the last two years of marriage have been so blissful, and there isn’t a single thing you would change.

at least that’s what you believe most of the time.

you like to think you know a lot about him, and in a way, you do. you know his favorite color, how he likes his coffee, what he usually orders at restaurants, the type of wine he prefers over beer, the exaggerated shocked fasces he likes to make, how his favorite chore is folding the laundry, how his least favorite is doing the dishes because he doesn’t like getting his hands dirty, the name of his childhood pet, what positions he likes to cuddle or fuck in, the names he’s thinking of giving to your child when they are finally born— there are so many little details you know about him, yet at times you feel like you don't know anything at all.

you don’t really know much about his childhood aside from a few random stories, he claims there’s nothing really notable and that it was as standard as can be. you don’t know who his parents were or what they were like because he said they died when he was young, but surely that’s an important loss which must have impacted him and made youth difficult in some way? you don’t know about his past partners if he even had any, but you doubt you were his first as he was yours with a face like his. you don’t know any of his secrets, like an embarrassing moment or something sinful he might have committed in the past. 

he knew all of these things about you and the little details of your life, so why don’t you know any of the most basic things regarding your own husband?

these periods of uncertainty are few and far, but once the icy tendrils of doubt creep in, it’s difficult to shake them off when you realize you only know these things through observations and not him actually telling you. it’s a miracle your stupidity allowed you to make it this far in falling head over heels for him, getting married, and carrying his child (not that you completely regret it, you still love him, but you wish you had given it more time).

they say there are no such things as stupid questions, yet the main question you have is exactly that as it’s something every wife should know even before the marriage. it would be impressive how long you’ve been clueless about this matter if it weren’t for how often and how skilled he is in managing to evade your curiosity and steer the conversation elsewhere. you didn’t want to press on it since he seems to shut it down every time the topic is brought up and you don’t want to fight over something you technically didn’t need to know, but it weighs on you and presses into your chest with the knowledge you were being kept in the dark. 

what did your husband do for a living, exactly?

his schedule is always unpredictably changing with little rhyme or reason and it confuses you. sometimes you’ll go an entire few days without seeing him, sensing him wake up in the morning before the sun is even up, feeling him kiss you on the cheek before getting ready, and not coming back until long after you fall asleep with no communication aside from a note on the table telling you he’ll be gone for the day along with a wad of cash for you to treat yourself while he’s gone. other times he’ll be chilling at home for an entire week, waking you up with aggressive cuddles (or morning sex), making you breakfast with the morning news on in the background, and taking you out to wherever you want to go on his card in his rare casual clothing and messy wavy hair rather than the typical fancy suits and hair styled with gel. 

as far as you’re concerned, he’s a businessman of sorts, although you don’t know what company he works for or what position he has in terms of hierarchy or how an occupation of that type allows such flexibility in hours or anything at all. 

“what if he’s having an affair?”

you paused for a second before continuing the motion of slicing the cheesecake with a fork and savoring the taste in your mouth. “that’s ridiculous,” you stated simply after swallowing. “he loves me very much, and it doesn’t explain his weird schedule either.”

today was spent with some friends you met back in high school, but honestly, you were only attending out of politeness and tradition since you honestly feel like you’ve disconnected from these girls long before the current. still, you treasure the memories shared in your more formative years and wouldn’t ever say no to them if they wanted to hang out like old times. ji-cheol doesn’t bother to hide his distaste for them, calling them a miserable lot who try to drag you down at every opportunity out of jealousy for your happiness. you laugh it off, but you know deep down he’s right and yet you’re still sitting here at the cafe with them with bright smiles like their words don’t cut deep. 

“maybe he’s dating the boss— a sexy office siren type— she gives him plenty of days off and he stays with her at her beach house at jeju island or something to keep her company, and then she gives him lots of money in exchange.”

“oh my god, could you imagine?”

“can you be realistic? it sounds like you’re just writing a plot for a new drama,” you giggled, not allowing the feeling of a twisting blade in your abdomen to show on your face or the venom to drip from your words at the mere thought of the man you loved being stolen away a faceless woman who was everything you wished you were more of: more beautiful, more wealthy, more experienced, more intelligent—

“you don’t know because he’s your first love or whatever— and you’re so lucky to have been able to marry him— but men are dogs, and i don’t see why he would be the exception.”

“but he treats me so well—”

“maybe he only treats you well because you’re pregnant— he probably just feels guilty. i mean, when i was pregnant and had my first, my husband wasn’t attracted to me anymore and demanded a divorce unless i lost the baby weight.” she shrugged like it was so simple, so common, like the notion of marriage wasn’t something so deeply important and could be thrown away so easily.

“we aren’t suggesting you get a divorce, but we’re just saying you should keep an eye on him— you know? a handsome guy like him was always bound to get a lot of attention…” her laugh was shrill and high-pitched, making goosebumps erupt on your skin.

“right… thanks guys…”

that night, you couldn’t stop twisting and turning on the large sectional couch with thoughts rushing through your head of your husband with some other woman. the jealousy from these fictional scenarios without evidence of existence plagued you. it made you want to vomit up the negative feelings and go back to the person you were a few hours ago without the images of him cheating planted in your mind, which didn’t go unnoticed by him and caused him to ask what was bothering you as it wouldn't be good for the baby.

you hesitated for a moment, “could you tell me about your exes?”

“why are you suddenly curious about that?” he chuckled, knowing damn well that it was because of those stupid snakes masquerading as people (it truly takes one to know one) running their mouths again, but still feigning obliviousness for your sake. 

“just wondering,” you muttered. “i mean, you’re the first person i’ve fallen in love with, but you’re a bit older than me so…”

“and i hope to be the only one too,” he smirked confidently, making you laugh as he plopped down on the ground and rested his head on the cushion next to yours. 

it was such a casual setting in such a vast space, bringing you back to the days in your little apartment inviting him over for chicken and beer before you knew about your immense wealth and got embarrassed over your cheap dates when he was so used to expensive restaurants. he found it very endearing though, knowing you liked him for him and not his money.

“well, if you’re so curious…” he trailed off, but you weren’t quite sure if it was because of hesitation or because he simply didn’t know where to start. you can’t remember the last time a conversation like this was held to learn more about him since it was usually about you, maybe back when you first started dating and briefly discussed his late parents.

he started with his crush when he was in middle school since that was his earliest recollection of feeling love, who didn’t really count as a girlfriend or love because nothing was established and because of their age, but she was his first kiss that he ran away from right after because of how nervous he was, and it was never addressed again. apparently it was his second girlfriend who taught him everything he knew before he met you, saying she basically “trained him like a dog” to create a gentleman out of an inexperienced boy who still wasn’t quite sure how to treat a woman like a queen. she was a bit mean though, and he didn’t realize he dodged a bullet until later after realizing she was unnecessarily cruel to him for no reason multiple times if he didn’t do things exactly her way.

you suppose you always knew your husband wasn’t always the suave charmer you know him to be, but the image of younger him being clueless on matters of romance made you burst out laughing because of how you could hardly picture it.

he reached over to pinch your cheek affectionately, “are you of all people really making fun of me when you were too scared to hold my hand for me to escort you out of my car?”

“oh my god, that was on our first date, i can’t be blamed! i was shaking like crazy on that day— you had to tell me that you didn’t bite.”

“i was actually thinking about calling off our date last minute because of an emergency at work,” he confessed, “but i’m glad i didn’t and met the love of my life instead.”

“aw, you flirt.” the memory made you smile and feel all giggly inside, all the fears you had about him possibly having an affair falling away, yet there were still some lingering at the back of your mind with the mention of his job. “what happened at work?”

“nothing that important,” he said instantly like clockwork. “just some boring business things.”

you didn’t push it, not wanting to ruin the mood, but once again, your curiosity was just itching to ask more questions about his work life even if it was truly as boring as he says. you wanted to know every mundane detail whether it was what his office looked like or what the annoying co-worker did on a daily basis, anything to satiate your need to know more about this mysterious man you had made life-long vows with.

it all came to a head one night while you were cooking dinner, you heard the doorbell ring a dozen times in quick succession and answered it to find an older man with fiery red hair that seemed to match his temper. when he addressed your husband by name and verified your relationship with him, he began spewing all kinds of insults about the blood he had on his hands by luring innocent people to their deaths and you felt your heart drop. you tried to reason with him that there must have been some sort of mistake, barely able to get your words out in a fit of confusion and surprise at the absurd accusation, but he wouldn’t hear you out and pointed a finger in your face, asking if you had any idea what gong ji-cheol was doing behind your back. 

at that very moment, he was suddenly seized by two anonymous men in all black, causing him to yell out in panic as they dragged him away and stuffed him in the back of a car before quickly driving off into the night without a trace. it all happened so fast, you just stood there with your mouth open in shock, wondering if you should call the police on what looked like an abduction. 

then your husband comes running up the steps with his locked briefcase in hand, shouting out your name, asking you if you’re okay, pulling you back inside the comfort of your shared home, and checking you all over to make sure you aren’t harmed in any way. when you ask about who that man was and what he was talking about, he simply told you he was some crazy customer who was dissatisfied with the company, was looking for someone to blame, and promised to tell you the details later. 

you didn’t tell him that you didn’t believe him, just pursed your lips and furrowed your brow for a second then let go of the topic like you always do, taking his coat off his shoulders with a peck on the lips asking how his day was. he reciprocated the kiss, said it was fine without anything special, and that he would shower before having dinner, something he didn’t really need to say since you already knew but stated anyway as per evening routine. 

as he headed up the stairs and disappeared from sight, you stared at the locked briefcase resting crookedly on the little entryway table and paused for a moment. if you did this, it would be a breach of privacy and a sign of growing distrust in your husband, but it could also answer all of the questions that never cease. 

your hands wouldn’t stop shaking involuntarily as you felt the cold black metal underneath your fingertips, marveling at the smooth material clean of any scratches or dents. fidgeting with the built-in combination lock, six number sequences started rushing through your mind as you started to hastily run through your options with a focus on dates. you were determined to only do this three times since you had no idea if an alarm would be set off or if it would close off permanently.

his birthday?

an electronic beep went off indicating you were incorrect, making you nervous.

your birthday?

wrong again, you only had one attempt left. you swallowed, shaking the accumulating sweat off your hands.

the date of your wedding?

you gasped as the locks suddenly flipped open and lightly knocked against the briefcase. it was undone, you could open it at any moment now and see it all.

and yet you still hesitated during this golden opportunity. was it the fact that the passcode to his most secret possession was the day you got married? was it guilt for going behind your husband’s back for answers instead of directly asking him? was it because you were afraid of what you would find if you discovered the red-haired man was telling the truth?

whatever it was, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and locked it again, leaving it looking untouched and went back to playing dinner.

there was a heavy tension present at the dinner table that night, the only conversation present being him interrogating you about what the red-haired man talked about word-for-word. not really interrogating since his tone of voice was still calm and gentle as he asked questions, but you could see him fidgeting with his fork and not leaving much room for any other topic until he was sure you told him everything. he then sighed and claimed the man was insane, a gambling addict who was too deep in debt to afford treatment and was trying to drag him into his misery after meeting at the subway station. 

“ji-cheol?”

he froze for a second, not used to hearing you use his real name rather than a pet name. “yes?”

“what do you do for a living, exactly?”

a pause, you watched him fidget with his chopsticks and shift the grains of rice around. “you know, business stuff— nothing you need to concern yourself about—“

“but i don’t know! that’s the thing!” you felt tears starting to well up behind your eyes, letting two years of frustration trickle through. “i know it doesn’t seem that important for me to know, but is it really so important that you leave me in the dark about it for the three years we’ve been lovers? and now some guy comes to our doorstep and tells me about how your job is playing games with people at the subway station to make them participate in death games?!” you took a deep breath, calming yourself down, “please, be honest with me, that’s all i want…”

“i-i…” that was the first time you’ve ever heard him stutter, and if the situation wasn’t so tense, you would be proud you finally got one-up on him. “i can’t say… it’s for your own safety and mine.”

“so he was right?”

he remained silent, trying to think of some way to counter what seong gi-hun had told you, but if you didn’t believe the elaborate lie he already told you and wanted to learn more, then he knew this was the end of the road. 

“i-i need some time to think…” you looked defeated and it broke his heart. “i’m going to my mom’s house tonight, i’ll be back tomorrow—“ you got up, not bothering to pack anything aside from your phone and your wallet.

he had prepared for you to start screaming and crying (not that he would blame you, i mean, who would willingly stay with a man who was complicit in mass murder), demanding a divorce and packing your things to shut the door for him never to be seen again with your unborn child. the strangely calm reaction was both a relief and extremely unsettling to him.

“i won’t be mad if you decide not to come back” he stated plainly, defeated in a state you’ve never seen him in before. “whatever choice you make, i’ll support you, just know i love you— more than anything else in this world.”

you stared at him blankly through the open doorway. perhaps your husband isn’t the perfect man you believed him to be, but he was as honest as he possibly could have been with you regarding the matter, and that’s enough. 

“i love you too, i’ll be back in the morning.” that’s how you feel at the moment, but you don’t know if you’ll feel the same way tomorrow morning when it sinks in.

[lovelivision]

THE COMPLEX ✧₊

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: fushiguro toji/reader

𝐖𝐂: 9.7k

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: after you catch your ex cheating on you in your shared apartment, you run into your mysterious neighbour. surprisingly, you find a friendship in him you weren't expecting. he's especially handy in helping you put together your new bed frame

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ only, smut, swearing, cheating (not by reader or toji), flirting, dirty talk, cunnilingus, p in v sex, mating press, dacryphilia, fingering, multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, creampie, cum play, tease!toji, f!reader

Coming home after a long day of work is something that should bring you joy but as you cross the threshold of the apartment you share with your boyfriend; you know something is wrong. The abrupt cut off of what sounded like moans followed by frantic shuffling doesn’t give you much of a chance to think the best of him.

Already knowing what’s coming, you begin looking for your suitcase you have stored away. Checking the linen cupboard in the hall first and pulling it out, dragging it behind you when your – soon to be – ex-boyfriend leaves your shared room.

“You’re home early!” He looks nervous, like he can’t tell if he’s been caught or not yet. He’s about to say something else when his eyes flick to the suitcase you pulled out of the cupboard, “Going on a trip or something?” The chuckle he lets out is awkward and off-putting.

Ignoring his question, you walk past him wordlessly, pushing towards your bedroom, you just want to pack as much of your shit as you can manage and get out of here.

He rushes to get in front of you, stopping you from entering the room, “Why won’t you say anything?”

“What do you expect me to say?” You look at him with nothing but apathy, giving him no chance to pull a fast one on you, “You want me to scream? Cry maybe? Beg you to tell me all the dirty little details?”

“I expect you to care at least a little bit! Ask me why, how long, anything!” His voice raises at you, like he has any right to be mad.

“Those kinds of questions give you hope that I’ll stay,” your hand reaches for the door handle behind him, “And I have no intention of staying,” walking forward in spite of him blocking you, forcing him to either move or stop you.

Acquiescing, he lets you pass him. There is no shock when you’re confronted with the half-naked girl in your bed, the bed you bought �� he can keep it. It’s also no shock to see she’s someone your boyfriend works with, what was it again? His work wife? No matter how many times you mentioned that her clinginess and his unwillingness to set boundaries made you uncomfortable he never did anything to make you feel better.

Maybe if you had been paying more attention to him, if you hadn’t checked out of the relationship months ago, you would’ve been able to stop him from cheating. Then again, if you have to stop someone from cheating they aren’t worth your time.

You’d consider saying something to her but there isn’t anything that wouldn’t be a waste of breath, not when she’s sat so smugly wrapped in your favourite sheets. She’s proud of herself and you just can’t seem to comprehend why, the prize she won is some loser who was willing to cheat on his long-term girlfriend.

The suitcase in your hand is thrown onto the bed haphazardly, she startles at the bounce in the mattress, like you were going to hurt her or something. That’s something you find amusing, smile small as you tug open the zipper calmly.

Your boyfriend follows you around the room as you pick up all the necessities you can fit, “Are you seriously just going to leave like this?”

Without looking at him you answer, “Yeah.”

“Why won’t you even try and fight for me?” He sounds desperate and angry.

Pausing, you look him straight in the eyes, “Because I don’t want you.”

“No wonder he cheated on you,” his work wife scoffs from the bed, finally pulling herself out of it, rushing off to the bathroom to change. The speed in which she leaves the room after her comment almost makes you chuckle, like she’s still scared you’ll hurt her.

“Don’t you love me?” He pleads, ignoring her comment.

Instead of answering, you turn it back on him, “Did you love me while you were fucking her?” You don’t wait for his reply, going back to your suitcase.

“Of course I did,” he cements, like he means it, and hell maybe he does but just because he means it doesn’t change what he did.

“Why are you so surprised?” You pull the zip closed and tug everything off the bed, looking at him in exasperation, “I told you that cheating is a deal breaker for me, it always has been, and it always will be, so stop acting so incensed or like I blindsided you with this reaction.”

He glares at you harshly, like he’s the wronged party here, “I thought you would care more.”

“You thought wrong,” it’s taking a lot to continue this façade of indifference, and while you certainly don’t feel as effected as some would, it still hurts, you’re still livid, but mostly you’re tired.

“I never realised how much of a cold-hearted bitch you were,” his tone is cold, words cutting through you sharply.

Sighing at him, you say, “I’ll come back for the rest of my stuff later this week, if any of it’s missing or damaged I’ll be calling the cops.” Grabbing your handbag, you walk to the front door, suitcase rolling behind you, “Just in case this wasn’t clear enough, I’m breaking up with you.”

“You haven’t even let me say anything,” he’s almost frantic, like he’s stunned by your verbalisation of the breakup. “Wait, don’t leave! We can talk about this can’t we?”

Pulling the door open, you don’t look back, “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Your steps in the hallway of the building are rushed, worried that he’s going to follow you. Finger pressing into the elevator call button quickly like that will make it come quicker. It opens just as the door to your apartment does and you feel your heart rate spike, thumb slamming into the ‘door close’ symbol.

Foot tapping impatiently on the floor as you wait for it to reach the lobby, hoping you get there before him. The fact he can switch so quickly between calling you a cold-hearted bitch and begging you to stay is chilling, just who were you living with for all these years.

When the elevator dings you’re so caught up in your thoughts that you jump slightly and then you haul ass, going for the front door before thinking better of it. If he really does intend on coming after you then it might be better to go out the back.

The back of the building is a grimy alley and while you’d really rather not go back there, you’d really rather not run into your ex more, so grimy alley it is. It’s a struggle to open the door with your handbag on your shoulder and suitcase in your other hand. You manage it though, it’s just unfortunate that when you start down the steps you stumble slightly as your suitcase wheel gets caught on one of the stairs, your handbag falls to the floor as you struggle to catch yourself on the railing.

You’re pissed off and grumbly as you pull on your suitcase forcefully, “Just my fucking luck, God, what an awful fucking night. These stupid fucking stairs, always hated it back here–”

A short chuckle sounds from behind and it scares the hell out of you. Spinning around quickly and placing a hand over your racing heart, you see it’s just your neighbour. You’ve seen him in the hall a few times, never saying more than a friendly hello and quick nod of acknowledgement.

He seemed polite enough, you would’ve gotten to know him better, but your ex had told you to stay away from him. Making claims like he was dangerous and bad news; you don’t know if you ever believed him, but he clearly felt some type of way about you being friendly with him, so you kept your distance. Mostly out of respect for your relationship and your partners boundaries but that’s a little bit ironic now, after tonight.

Your neighbour is all too amused when he apologies for obviously frightening you, “Sorry, doll, didn’t mean to scare ya.”

Turning your back on him and leaning down to your bag, you acknowledge his apology, “It’s fine,” you’re trying to be polite but you’re still in a foul mood.

“Need any help?” He offers when he sees you struggling to put everything back in your handbag. Head tilted as he checks out your ass in your tight work skirt before realising he’s staring and looking away before you can notice.

“No.” You answer without looking up, though it comes out harsher than you mean for it to, clearing your throat lightly, you add, “No, I can manage, thank you though.”

His tongue clicks, “What are you doing in this alley, shouldn’t you be going out the front?”

Without missing a beat, you turn the question back on him, “What are you doing in this alley?” Finally standing and raising to look pointedly back at him, handbag placed precariously on top of your suitcase.

Wordlessly, he takes a drag of the cigarette you hadn’t noticed he was smoking, blowing the smoke off to the side, away from you. His smile too big when he notices how your expression twists in slight embarrassment when realising his very obvious reason for being back here.

“You gonna tell me why you’re back here or are you going for some kind of mysterious woman vibe?” He’s glib, annoyingly so.

But attractive, in an irritating kind of way, the kind of way that pisses you off because how dare he be that hot and also be looking at you like that.

Your reply is straightforward, “It’s not a mystery, you’re just a stranger.”

“Cranky little thing aren’t ya?” Smirking to himself when he mentions your bad mood, like it’s so funny.

That pisses you off, you were trying so hard to be polite to him and while you were failing, you were trying, “Listen here mister ‘I’m so handsome I can get away with being an annoying asshole to strangers–’.”

“–Toji.”

You fumble slightly, taken aback by his interruption, “What?”

“That’s my name,” he looks pleased with himself for throwing you off. It’s like he’s trying to win an award for annoying you.

Frowning, you brush him off and continue on your mini tirade, “Right, well, I have had an especially foul evening and the last thing I need after walking in on my boyfriend cheating on me, is some dick telling me I’m awfully cranky. I think I should be crankier actually!”

He huffs out an amused breath at your frustrated rant, “Normally you give your name back after someone’s offered theirs.”

You squint at him, scrutinising his person. Hesitating in answering him but ultimately you give him your name, not seeing the harm in it.

It’s like he mulls it over, smiling to himself before saying unprompted, “A damn shame to see you go, doll.”

“I’m so sure,” you snark back.

Taking a step forward, you go to leave the alley, but he speaks again, “I got one question though…”

Stopping in your tracks, you turn to face him properly, hand propped on your hip, “And what’s that?”

“Why are you the one leaving?” His head tilts at you.

You don’t know why, but you decide to answer him, “It was his place first,” you shuffle from side to side, “Plus I’m not particularly fond of the fact that they’ve potentially fucked in every square inch of that place…”

He barks a short laugh at your statement, “You know… if you were my girlfriend,” he leans in towards you, “I wouldn’t cheat on you.”

“Yeah that means so much to me mysterious neighbour who I’ve never spoken more than a few words to in passing,” you deadpan back at him.

There’s an entertained look on his face as he eyes you up and down, grinning to himself before taking another drag of his cigarette.

Your foot taps impatiently while you wait for him to say more, he looks like he wants to say more but the longer it takes him to talk the more you’re not fully convinced he has anything to say. Puffing, you turn to walk off, only to get stopped by his words, again.

“You got a place to stay?”

Your brow raises at him, “Yeah… I do.”

He shrugs, “That’s too bad.”

“Stop flirting with me! I literally just found out my ex of many years has been cheating on me,” frown prominent on your face as you accuse him adeptly of hitting on you.

His shoulders shake with a chuckle, “The first time I’ve gotten to say more than a few words to you in passing, just making the most of it.”

Something clicks for you, “Now I see why my ex didn’t like you very much.”

“And why’s that?”  He’s smug when he asks.

“He’s insecure and you’re very clearly a flirt.”

Unbothered, he answers simply, “Not usually, you just so happen to be my type.”

You click your tongue, caught between shocked and completely unsurprised by him, “Awfully blunt aren’t you?”

Toji smiles at you as he takes another drag, blowing the smoke away quickly, “If you want someone there when you’re picking up the rest of your shit from that jackasses place, feel free to knock on my door,” he follows up his statement with a wink, dropping his smoke and stomping it out. He’s walking to the door, adding, “Stay safe out there, doll. I’m looking forward to seeing you again.”

How presumptuous of him, he’s such an ass, and just as you go to tell him as such, he’s closing the door and presumably going back up to his apartment. Your face scrunches as you think of all the things you could’ve said to him and at the things you shouldn’t have said to him. He didn’t need to know all about your relationship like that… tonight just keeps getting worse for you.

At least you wasted enough time that if your ex did follow you down like he seemed he was going to, he’s probably left by now.

✮.

Staying with your friends is uncomfortable, they’re dating and happy and you’re sour about it. Their displays of affection are prompting you to get into motion though, finding a reasonably cheap place to live fairly quick. Fuelled by nothing but bitterness and a sickening feeling like you’ve wasted too much time with your ex.

The next step is going back to that apartment and collecting more of your valuables, having left behind a bunch of things that would’ve been too much of a hassle to grab in the moment. Taking a day off work and borrowing your friends’ car is the move, aiming to go while the place is empty.

It’s still going to be a bit of work moving stuff from the apartment down to the car and your friends can’t take the day off to help. As much as you feel uncertain about it, you might ask Toji for help, he offered after all.

By the time you’re finally heading back to that apartment complex it’s been a few days, not having felt ready enough to come back any sooner. It’s funny how everything about the building is the same and yet you feel so different about it all now, it doesn’t feel like home anymore. There’s no warmth here, just another cold place that one day you’ll pass and not feel a tug in your heart over.

Nerves run through you as you stand in front of Toji’s door, uncertainty sitting heavy in your chest. Maybe he wasn’t genuinely offering, or what if he’s busy, or what if he’s not even home. You’re stupid, you didn’t even consider that he might not be home today, feeling flustered you ultimately don’t knock on his door.

Entering your now old apartment feels odd, most of your stuff is still here but you feel detached from the place. Amazing how a few days can change your outlook so drastically. Thankfully it doesn’t look like he touched any of your things, though you never really had all that much to begin with.

It was his apartment first and a lot of the furniture is his or was bought by the two of you together. Aside from the bed but that’s just because he didn’t want to pay for a new one. If you’re being honest, it never even felt like your place. You lived here and you called it home, but it doesn’t look lived in by you. After a while you stopped trying to buy trinkets and decorations for the place, he never seemed to like them. Always leaving you feeling like it was his place first and a shared home second.

You guess, at some point, it stopped being noticeable but as you stand here now and look through your belongings, you’re realising you really do not have all that much. Whatever you take will hardly make a dent in the large ocean of his belongings, poetic in a way. You’re a small part of him but he was a large part of you.

Grimacing at your own thoughts you move on, not wanting to start feeling those emotions in fear of crying. Instead sourcing the boxes you kept from your initial move in, you tape them back into shape. It’s been so long they look weak and old; time has not been kind to either of you it seems.

On your trips back and forth from the apartment to the car, you pointedly ignore Toji’s door, not wanting to linger on thoughts of him either. It embarrassing that you told a stranger that much about your life and then was willing to have him help you move out. Though he had big arms… he’d probably be really helpful.

This whole thing is taking longer than you thought it would, your arms growing tired from each trip. As you look at one of the few boxes you have left, you wonder if it’s even worth it. Most of what’s in these are clothes or the few decorative trinkets you own.

No, he doesn’t get to keep any part of you. Not the parts that were solely you anyways, he can keep those fucking sheets. Picking up the box, you trudge out the door for what feels like the billionth time. Not able to help the frustration in your steps as you stomp out into the hallway.

Just as you’re about to pass by Toji’s door, your box splits underneath and your things spill out. Thankfully it only really has some clothes in it, but you clearly overfilled it, too heavy for the poor old cardboard. Letting it drop to the floor; all you can do is look at the pile of clothes.

A deep sigh pulls from your lungs and your eyes brim with tears, you’ve yet to cry about this all but your box breaking feels like the last straw. Fighting your tears off desperately and failing as they drip down your cheeks.

Your voice is small when you mumble a tiny, “I hate everything.”

A hand on your shoulder makes you jump, apparently out of it enough to not hear someone leave their apartment and approach you. Maybe you shouldn’t be surprised when you look and see Toji, but you are, feeling a little confused at the small amount of relief that runs through you at seeing him.

His tone is careful when he asks, “You okay, doll?” Like he’s actually worried about you.

And maybe it’s because he’s the first person to properly ask you that, or because his hand is warm and large against your shoulder or maybe it’s just because he’s here, you move to hug him. Realising now just how alone you feel, desiring comfort from him.

He doesn’t push you back, instead he wraps his arms around you and lets you soak a portion of his shirt in your tears. A kindness you don’t think you’d expect from someone who looks – or quite frankly – acts like him.

Mumbling in his shirt, “Sorry…” Before pulling back, “I’m okay… sorry.”

“You apologised twice,” he notes.

“Sorry…”

An amused look on his face at your third apology, his thumb reaching up to wipe at the tear on your cheek before speaking again, “Your box broke.”

“I know, it made me cry.”

“Don’t cry over spilt clothes.”

Somehow that poor joke has you cracking a small smile, “Very wise of you.”

“I’m full of that shit,” he moves for your box, letting all the clothes spill onto the floor, “Wisdom.”

“You sure you’re not just full of shit?”

“Ah there’s the girl I met the other night,” Flipping the box upside down, he scoops up your clothes and shoves them inside again.

Realising he’s picking up after you, you tell him, “I can do that.”

“I’m sure you can,” he picks up the box easily, resting it over one forearm as he moves for his apartment door.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re taking my stuff?”

“Finders keepers,” his tone even.

“Hey?!” You call after him, following him into his apartment.

It’s a mirror image of yours, furnishing a bit boring but befitting of what you assume is a single man. Toji drops the box of your clothes onto the floor by the front door, pushing it off to the side.

His words interrupt your snooping from afar, “How many more boxes you got?”

“Uh, only a couple,” you blink up at him, still lost on what’s he’s doing.

He hums at you, “Come on.”

“What?” You’re then following him back out of his apartment and over to yours, he walks in like he’s been invited. Flustered and confused as you hurry along behind him, “Toji, what are you doing?”

“You used my name,” you can hear the smile in his voice, “Almost made me blush, doll,” he teases back at you.

Purposefully not indulging his flirting, “Shut up, why are we over here?”

“Grabbing the rest of your shit, put it at my place before that dick gets home,” he stacks the last two boxes on top of each other, smaller than the box that had your clothes in it. Picking them up with ease, he walks past you, “Could ya get the door for me?”

Mindlessly, you open the door. Why is he doing this for you? “Toji–”

“Do a once over and check you got everything,” he nods back at you, “Don’t take too long though, he gets home from work soon.”

He walks off before you can say anything, so you decide to do what he said. Checking the apartment all over to make sure you got everything you wanted, you were right earlier, your stuff barely made a dent. When you’re satisfied you’ve got everything, you go to walk out the front door, pausing at a note taped to the wall by it.

Not noticing it with your view being obscured by large boxes every time you walked by it, that and you’ve been a bit distracted all day. It’s obviously written by your ex, you’re half tempted to just ignore it but you’re nosy and want to know what he’s said.

It reads a simple: ‘please don’t leave me, it was a mistake. I love you’. Underwhelming to say the least, it doesn’t even move you. If anything, you feel pissed the fuck off. How dare he spit a bunch of bullshit, you’re not stupid, the day you caught them was certainly not the first time they’d fucked here. It was written all over that woman’s face, she was smug, like she’d finally got what she’d wanted by you finding out.

For a quiet moment, you consider writing something back to him, or burning the note, or even just ripping it up. But you’re choosing to leave it there, maybe he’ll wonder if you saw it and maybe he’ll always be unsatisfied as to whether or not you’d have stayed if you had. Maybe he doesn’t deserve closure, maybe he deserves nothing more of you.

You’re getting bored thinking about him, this relationship had already been on its way out, you just didn’t have the guts to leave him for seemingly no reason. Pretending like you didn’t see his shitty note, you lock up the place and take the key off your key chain. Slipping it under the door before walking over to Toji’s.

Looking at his door, you consider if you should knock or walk in. It feels wrong to enter someone’s home unannounced though, even if they did kind of hijack some of your belongings and stash them in their house. Feeling too uncomfortable to simply walk in, you knock, waiting patiently for him to open it.

When he opens the door he leans against the frame of it with his forearm, “I left it open for ya.”

“It’s rude to enter without an invitation,” you say obviously.

He points out, “Didn’t stop ya earlier.”

“You stole my clothes!” You defend.

A chuckle leaves him, “Get in,” he holds the door wider for you.

Pausing, you check first, “You’re not gonna kill me or something are you?”

“A sweet lil’ thing like you?” His smile is big and flirtatious, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of yourself,” rolling your eyes as you walk past him and into his apartment.

The door swings closed behind you, Toji watching you shuck of your shoes, “Nope.”

Standing up and turning back to him, you mumble a small, “Thanks for helping me… and sorry… for crying on you.”

He pouts at you in thought, a hum leaving as an acknowledgment of what you’ve said. “You want some tea?”

You’re taken aback by his sudden offer, “Oh… uh… sure, that’d be nice.”

“Sit wherever,” he waves his hand around aimlessly at the few seating options he has.

Cautiously, you navigate around his apartment, unsure of yourself in here. You’ve only just met him and he’s being so kind, the fact he’s a stranger a more obvious fact when you’re in his home. You hesitate for a moment before taking a seat on his couch, gazing out the window while he clanks around in the kitchen.

Finding yourself wishing you’d put more effort into knowing him, he seems kind, though with how he flirts with you it’s probably better you didn’t. His footsteps are padded as they approach you, his slippers dragging against the floorboards. The tea he’s made for you is placed on the coffee table across from you, along with another he’d made for himself.

With no grace, he flops down beside you, his head leaning back against the couch. He doesn’t seem to have very good manners, his frame spread wide, sitting closer to you than most people probably would.

After a moment, he comments, “All the furniture was still in that place.”

You guess he’s referring to your apartment, “Yeah…”

“Gonna have an empty new apartment.”

“Yeah,” you reach for your tea, “It’ll all be me though.”

His head turns to look at you, “I’d like to see it.”

You smile into your mug, “You trying to say you wanna see my new place when I move in?”

“I think I should be the first person to see it.”

Taking a quick sip, you place the mug back down on the table, still a bit too hot, “And why should you get such a high honour?”

“Because you ruined my shirt by crying into it–”

“I did not ruin your–”

“And because you’ll need someone to help with all your new and big furniture,” he smiles at you like he knows he’s right, all smug and attractive.

Being serious for a moment, you enquire, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Isn’t it obvious,” you shake your head at him and his smile grows, “I’m hoping to get into your pants.”

Your face pulls up at him and you push him away by his shoulder, “You’re pathetic.”

“Yeah, but you’re hot and single,” he barely moves at your pushing.

You continue to frown at him, “You have to help with my furniture now, after being so lecherous.”

You’re only joking but he answers as if you weren’t, “Whatever you say, doll,” he smiles arrogantly, like he knows he’s won you over, even if it’s just a little bit.

✮.

The new place is nice, smaller than your last but it’s a good size for you. It’s only been a few days since you moved in though, so your ‘bed’ has been a mattress on the floor and your living room has a sad looking bean bag instead of a proper couch. It’s strikingly bare in here but it’s all yours and you get to decorate to your hearts content, you just wish you had the funds to buy to your hearts content.

Your first big purchase has been a bed frame, deeming it the most necessary. A couch will probably go second and then a place for eating and a desk and… there is so much more furniture you need. Things that can all wait, nothing will bring down your mood. You’re feeling good, your bed frame came today and you’re going to put it together and have the best sleep ever tonight.

…

Premature optimism will be your downfall, you felt pretty good about assembling this altogether yourself. But now after having tried to put this stupid bedframe together for an hour or maybe more all the confidence you had in yourself has been drained. Sitting on the floor of your bedroom, instructions and bits of your bed in front of you, mattress pushed up against the wall and out the way, you have been defeated.

Happy thoughts, all happy thoughts, you can have it together before it’s time for bed… surely… Maybe this is more of a two-person job, you should’ve asked for help. Checking the time you see it’s late afternoon, is it too late in the day to call Toji and ask for his help. You ponder on it for a second before deciding you’re calling him; you want to sleep in an actual bed tonight. Plus, if you don’t get it together tonight, you’ll be sleeping on the mattress out in the living room and that just feels wrong.

The line only rings a couple times before he’s picking up, “Was wondering how long it’d take ya to call me, doll.”

“Don’t be smug, it makes it harder for me to ask for your help,” you roll your eyes despite him not being able to see you.

It’s scary how accurate he is in asking, “Taking me up on my offer to help with your furniture?”

“Is the offer still good?”

“For you?” he hums, “Always.”

He may be the biggest flirt you’ve ever met, “Then yes… I’d like your help, please.”

His smile can be heard down the line, “Those are nice manners you got there.”

“Shut up, just get here,” you hang up on him and text your address, he’s going to tease you plenty when he gets here, you don’t need sneak previews.

Though you are thankful you have his number, having already exchanged short messages back and forth. Sometimes you’ve even talked on the phone with him, you get a bit lonely and it’s nice to be able to call him. He’s not overly talkative but he will listen to you carry on about nothing and you like that in a man. Embarrassingly though, you tend to bring up just about anything so you can keep talking to him for a bit longer.

By the time Toji is in your apartment, you’re feeling down, having tried for a bit after the call to try and assemble it at least a little bit before he got here and failing. The pair of you look at the mess on the floor of your bedroom, his hands on his hips as his brow quirks at the sight. You feel small next to him, humiliated by just how badly you’ve done.

His head turns to the side, “Doll… what the hell am I looking at?”

“My new bed,” you pout back at him.

“You sure?” He double checks.

You’re glaring at him, “Yes. I’m sure.”

His head shakes at you, “Should’ve just called me from the beginning.”

“Well maybe I thought I could do it myself.”

“And look how that turned out.”

You whine at him, “You said you were gonna help.”

“And I will,” he places a hand on top of your head, leaning down, “I just gotta mock you first.”

“Is it out of your system yet?”

A beat before, “Probably not.”

Ignoring him, you offer, “Do you want a drink?”

He pats your head a couple times, “Quite the little host, aren’t ya?”

Your answer is dry, “No drink for you, got it.”

A laugh leaves him at your quickness, clearly enjoying the back and forth the two of you have. “Alright I’ll have your bed together quick; I don’t even know how you managed to fuck it up this bad.”

“Unnecessarily cruel,” you note.

Throwing a smile at you, he reaches for the instructions and glances over them for a moment before letting them float down to the ground. He’s clearly confident in his ability to put the bed together.

And to be fair, he had good reason to be confident. He gets it all assembled easily, barely needing your help save for a few moments where you had to hold something. Mostly, you felt like you were just there to watch him, and you found yourself not minding at all, he looked good.

As the mattress slides into place on the new frame, he gives you a helping hand in making the bed. Putting all the appropriate linens back on, including fresh sheets. It’s beautiful, all ready for you to sleep in, to think you almost cried about this a couple hours ago. The frame itself is nothing special but you’re feeling so much joy over something so simple.

“Thank you so much, Toji,” if it were physically possible, you’d have hearts in your eyes right now.

“More than welcome, doll,” he winks at you, “Want help breaking it in?”

“Okay.”

“What?” He asks again, like he’s not sure he heard you right.

“Okay, you can help me break it in,” when he doesn’t move, you ask, “Toji?”

“Hold on, I wasn’t expecting to get this far.”

You laugh airily, his surprise cute. As much as you were serious, you don’t want to put pressure on him. Moving to walk past and offering, “Do you wanna eat instead? I can order something; I don’t think I have enough in my fridge to cook–”

Your sentence is cut off by his hand on your upper arm, suddenly being pulled into him. “Now hold on, I’m not passing on this opportunity.”

“You sure? You seemed to get a bit nervous for a second there,” you tease.

“Was taken by surprise is all,” he grins.

“Are you really sure, because–”

He’s cutting you off again, his lips on yours, breathing against you, “–You talk too damn much.”

“That’s just–”

You don’t get to finish; he’s kissing you again. It’s insistent and messy, like he’s been wanting to kiss you for too long. His tongue licking into your mouth, pulling a whine from you at how his hands grope at your hips. Looping your arms around his neck, you pull yourself up into him, craving more of him.

He’s large and warm, so sturdy as you hang off him. Such a good kisser, lips slotting against yours perfectly. The way he’s making out with you has shivers running down your spine, finding yourself obsessing over his lips. You don’t want to part from him, drunk on him and the messy way he’s kissing you.

A hand leaves your hip and grabs the side of your face, his thumb pulls on your chin, getting you to open your mouth more. He wants to kiss you deeper, he wants to kiss you so you never forget what it’s like to be kissed by him. Leading you back, he walks you both to the bed until your legs are knocking on it and then he pushes you down onto it.

“You know,” his smile is suggestive, “I think I am hungry.”

It takes you an embarrassing amount of time to understand what he means, it’s not until his hands are at the waistband of your pants are you catching on, “Oh!” You’re feeling flustered, “I– you don’t– if you want–”

“–Oh, I want,” He returns quickly. “Do you?”

“Yes…” Your voice comes out smaller than you intended.

He can’t help but snicker at how you’re suddenly so much more shy, “Where’d your sharp tongue go, doll?”

“Shuddup Toji,” you snark back.

The breath that leaves him is amused, his hands pulling your pants and panties off in one go. And then he’s a little breathless because you’re so wet and pretty, his hands are keeping you spread apart.

“Keep ya fuckin’ legs open, doll,” he grunts, “Don’t deprive me of the view.”

“How can you be so– hah–”

He drops to his knees and blows cool air onto your clit, interrupting your comment in favour of a small gasp. Enjoying the way you twitch slightly at the action, “What were you saying?”

“F–Fuck you,” you curse at him.

“You’ll get the chance, don’t worry.”

Not able to hold himself back any longer, he’s putting his mouth on your cunt. His tongue spreading your folds, licking from your hole to your clit and back down again, repeating the motions over and over. No real purpose behind his actions, just enjoying the taste of you on his tongue, relishing in the sounds he manages to pull from you. Essentially making out with your pussy, reverential in his actions.

You try grinding down into him, to guide him where you want but he’s too happy to torture you, his arms hold you open and pin you still. Barely able to rut down into him with how his arms are around your legs.

“Toji,” you whine at him, wanting more.

He ignores your call to him, too involved in how he’s lapping at your cunt, making a mess. Though finally switching things up in a show of pity, his tongue slides inside your hole, fucking you with it. Your chest stutters with your breaths and your legs fight his arms, wanting to close around his head. It doesn’t work, he’s so strong and you feel so weak with how he’s turning you into a puddle.

This may be his new obsession, making out with your pussy and refusing to let you get what you want. Your pathetic whines and fruitless struggle against his grip amuses him just about as much as it turns him on. He rubs his nose purposefully into your clit, the moan you let out is shocked and cute. The way your cunt flutters around his tongue has his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

You’re really going to let him fuck you and that thought alone makes him feel giddy. Parting from you in a messy display, string of his saliva connecting him to your wet pussy, “You wanna cum, doll?”

Blankly, you nod back at him.

He smiles evil, “Ask.”

“Toji…”

“You wanna cum or not?”

“Make me cum…” You look at him and it has your heart leaping, his face slick with you, eyes glazed, “…please.”

“‘Atta girl,” he says like he’s proud of you.

All to happily, he puts his mouth back on you. Tongue fucking you with more purpose, nose pressed into your clit. The sounds of him eating you sloppy and obscene, not that you can find it in yourself to give a single fuck. Your high approaching so much quicker now that he actually intends on letting you cum, back arching off the bed as you get closer and closer.

So badly you want to rock down onto him, you want to grind on his pretty face, but he still holds you tight. He’s so mean to you, shouldn’t he want to make a good impression. Then again, he’s making you feel so good right now, orgasm so fucking close and then he does something devious. His finger slips inside your hole, alongside his tongue, never stopping and barely giving you a chance to acknowledge it.

It feels good and you feel the slightest bit fuller and you’re cumming, so unexpected to you that you’re blindsided as you twitch and cum all over his finger and tongue. Toji groans into you, drinking down your creamy slick. Your hearing is dull and you’re involuntarily twitching in his grip, soft whines dying down as you calm.

He keeps licking at you, you’re not able to tell if he’s cleaning up or adding to the mess between your legs but with the way he’s drooling on your pussy you’d have to guess the latter. Your thighs still shake in his grip, he’s going to force you into overstimulation, that or he’s going to have you cumming again.

Reaching down, you pull at his hair, “Too sensitive.”

“Couldn’t help myself, sorry doll,” he smiles lazily at you.

Your hand drops from his hair, he’s so beautiful, all pussy drunk and horny. “Is okay.”

While he waits for your breathing to start evening out, he licks and bites at your thighs, leaving behind so many marks that you will no doubt be embarrassed about tomorrow. Right now though, you can’t be bothered to move away or try and stop him. Jerking every now and again when his teeth nip at an especially soft spot on your thigh.

When you’ve calmed down, he stands up, undressing in front of you, not minding in the slightest the way you stare at him. His dick bobs under the weight of it, all heavy and leaky, precum dripping from his tip down the length of himself. Your thighs rub together at the sight of his incredibly hard cock, caught between worried about taking him and desperate to be fucked open on him.

“Your shirt,” he points at your chest, “Off.”

Pushing yourself up, you go to take off your shirt but before you can Toji’s tugging it off himself. “Someone’s eager,” you tease.

“‘Course I am,” his hands are quick to grope at your tits, “I get to open your little pussy up on my cock, what’s not to be eager about.” He smirks, fingers pinching your nipples.

“Are you always such a relentless tease?”

“Did you expect anything less?”

“Stop– hah– stop playing with my tits,” your scold has less of an effect when you’re pushing into him and fighting off moans.

He hums at you but pulls his hands back, “Shuffle back.”

Doing as he says, you move back on the bed, sitting more centred on it. He crawls onto the bed, pushing you back onto the mattress with a hand on your shoulder. Quick to open your legs again, hooking under your knees with both hands to push back on your legs. His eyes greedy as he watches your cunt closely, grinning when you clench around nothing.

“Toji, stop being a dick.”

“You want this dick, doll,” he returns, glancing at you, “Should ask real nice for it.”

You return a sharp, “Maybe you should ask real nice to fuck my pussy.”

“You got words now, but I doubt that’ll stay the same when I’m balls deep in you,” he grips his cock and rubs his tip between your folds.

“You gotta ask, Toji,” you remind.

Without an ounce of shame, he asks, “Please, let me fuck your pretty pussy, doll. Wanna feel the way she grips me tight when I fuck her open, want her creaming on me, wanna make a real fuckin’ mess.”

“I hate you,” you huff, annoyed that his words turned you on so much.

“She doesn’t feel the same as you,” he notes, humming at how your slick drips down and coats the tip of his dick.

Whining at him, “Toji, stop being such a– hah– insufferable tease.”

“You haven’t asked yet, doll,” the tip of his cock almost pushes inside you before he moves back.

An unsatisfied breath leaving you, almost having got what you wanted, “I thought you wanted to fuck me?”

“I do, bad,” he agrees easily, “What I want more than that though…” leaning down to talk next to your ear, “Is to hear you fuckin’ beg for it…”

Sadly, your resolve is weak, and you break easily, “Please, Toji. Please fuck me, anything, just stop teasing, please.” When he doesn’t move at your pleads, you add another small, “Please.”

Breathless huff leaving him at how quickly you gave in, he wonders how you’d hold up if he weren’t being so impatient himself. Working you up over and over only to deny you pleasure at the last second, making you cry and beg for his dick. The thoughts have his cock twitching, loving the idea of your wet eyes. He’ll just have to make you cry another way.

“What kind of a man would I be if I said no after you begged so nicely?” He asks rhetorically.

Despite his tone, you answer, “A mean one.”

Barking a laugh at your reply, “Never claimed to be nice, doll.” He delights in the way your eyes grow large, worried he’s going to deprive you more and maybe if he weren’t so fucking horny he would but he can’t bring himself to. “Don’t look so worried,” he coos.

Pulling back, he waits for you to open your mouth to talk before pushing the tip of his cock into you. Your face twisting in surprise, mouth dropping open but no words coming. His breathing stutters at the tight grip of your cunt, not quite expecting you to feel so fucking good around only this much of him.

He looks down to your pussy, watching how he’s slowly sinking into you, “Don’t know h– hah– how gentle I’m gonna be, doll.”

You mumble back at him, already out of it, “Ruin me.”

A shudder runs through him at that, just about cumming in you from your small request alone, “You’re a fuckin’ dream.” He keeps sliding inside you, rocking slightly, not able to help himself when you feel this good, “If ya need me to stop, fuckin’ slap me or something.”

“Won’t want you to– hnn– stop,” you gasp back.

“If you do though,” he insists.

Nodding firmly at him, like you want him to just shut up now, “I’ll– hah– slap y–you, got it.”

“Impatient little thing, aren’t ya?”

Though he’s not much better than you, especially when he’s finally balls deep, mouth salivating as his eyes almost roll to the back of his head. Only fighting the urge so he can see your face and watch how your eyes glaze over. A sight he doesn’t regret waiting for, his dick throbbing at the cute expression you’re wearing, your cunt fucked open and full by him, your brain having trouble doing its job.

Already so cock drunk that you can’t get your bearings enough to talk, he can tell you want to though, can see the way you’re fighting yourself. He’s surprised when you grind into him, against his pelvis. Clearly unable to find the words to ask him nicely to start moving, he groans at your shamelessness, enjoying you like this. You’re greedy and he likes that.

“Cute,” he murmurs, watching your pussy bulge around his dick.

Taking a deep breath, you moan out his name. All pitched and ruined, “Toji.”

“I got ya, doll.”

He pulls back slowly, his cock dragging deliciously against your walls. Your back arches as you moan, already trying to grind back into him. Toji bites his lip at the unabashed display, so willing to be openly needy when you’re this worked up. Not even a little bit shy when you whimper and try fucking up onto him.

Giving you what you want, he thrusts harshly back into you, picking up a diabolic pace. The sloppy sounds of him fucking your tight cunt filling the room, lewd mess spilling from your hole onto your fresh duvet every time he pulls back out. A fact you’d surely be bothered by if your eyes weren’t rolling, and your head wasn’t going fuzzy at how he’s fucking you. Managing to rub up against every single perfect spot inside you, your toes curling and legs shaking.

Cruelly, Toji grabs under your legs, pushing them up and back. Leaning into the movement with his weight, folding you in half. The angle new and breathtaking as he drills down relentlessly into you. If you weren’t cock drunk before you sure as fuck are now, your moans loud, the chanting of his name slurred and barely comprehensible.

“Fuck– how are you so–” Toji’s dick spasms inside you, you’re so unbelievably wet around him. Creamy pussy making an obscene mess on him, “Feel so– hnn– fuckin’ good, doll.”

You shake your head at him, “I– ah!– can’t fff–” you give up half way through, unable to say what you wanted.

He chuckles at your inability to form a coherent sentence, heart leaping at the realisation your eyes are brimming with tears. Sitting so pretty on your lash line, adding to the glassy look in your eyes. Moans slip from him when you shed a few tears, somehow, he’s folding you even more in half. The mating press mean and firm, not willing to give you a chance to change anything about how he’s fucking you.

It’s mind numbing how he’s thrusting into you, not realising how you’re drooling over it. Pussy throbbing at the way he slides into you, the feeling of being so full and split open the only thing on your mind. It can’t feel this good, why does it feel this good? The kind of sex that has you forgetting you’ve ever had sex before. Getting dicked down so good that you can’t even think of ever wanting anything but this.

Toji notices how drunk on him you are, “Hah– Good, doll?”

“Ah huh,” you nod deliriously at him, it’s all you’re really capable of.

Skin slapping against skin fills the room, his brutal thrusts echoing throughout your barely furnished apartment. His ego growing tenfold by the stupid look on your face, your pussy leaving a creamy white ring around the base of his cock driving him insane. Fucking you is messy, and he can’t help the fact that he’s obsessed with that. Loving the way you still try to grind up into him. Failing every time with the way he’s folded you, so needy for more that it’s adorable.

You’re hot and wet and so so snug that he feels like he’s dreaming, hooked on the way your pussy sucks him right back in as soon as he’s pulling out. Taking him so well despite the way you’re struggling to fit all of him, not that you mind, so blissed out and greedy that all you do is moan and pull at the sheets.

Cheeks tear stained at this point, orgasm so close if your stuttered breaths and shaking thighs are anything to go by. He keeps his thrusts the same, not changing anything about the way he’s fucking into you harshly, building you up so quickly that you’re dizzy.

Your back arches up into him, your tits presented to him so enticingly that he feels disappointed he can’t put his mouth on them right now.

“You’re s–so cute, doll,” he compliments, “Fuck– so greedy.”

His deep voice and crude praise send you over the edge, cunt clamping down so tight around him that he struggles to fuck you through your orgasm. Cumming around him so divinely that he couldn’t stop the moans tumbling from his lips even if he thought to. The sounds he makes stick inside your head, brain foggy as you cum but distinctly picking up on the moans he lets out. Pretty and arousing, you wish he had made more sounds for you.

Even as you come down, he keeps fucking you, fervent and desperate as he pummels into you over and over. New headboard slamming into the wall loudly as he fucks you, probably has been the whole time and you’re only just now registering it. Your eyes are bleary from the tears you’ve spilt, you want to rock down into him, wanting him to finish inside you so badly that it’s a feral kind of need clawing at your insides.

It’s insane how good he looks while he fucks into you, his lips parted slightly as he watches the way he stuffs his cock back into you over and over. Abs tense with his movements, eyes lazy and blown out, body sweaty from the exertion of holding you in a mating press while fucking you diabolically. His tongue runs along his lower lip, and you involuntarily clench around him, making him moan weakly, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

Glancing up at you, his eyes look wild, “You’re so adorable when you’re crying for me.”

“Toji,” It’s pathetic and pouted back at him, mind too broken to say much else.

He groans at you, “Ohh fuck!–”

The way your lower lip wobbles so pitifully when whining his name has him blowing his load, not even expecting it himself as he cums deeps inside you. When he realises, he slams his hips to yours, wanting it so deep inside that you’ll feel him for days after. His pelvis grinds into you and you practically purr at it, the stimulation against your clit has your cunt fluttering around him.

He's so sensitive he nearly whimpers at how perfect you feel around him, unwilling to move immediately, truly too obsessed with how you feel around him. The only thing prompting him to pull back being the uncomfortable way he’s folded you in half, lifting his weight off you, he allows your legs to drop.

Eyes locked onto your pussy when he pulls out, watching the way his cum leaks from your hole and down onto your bed, adding to the mess already there from the sloppy way he’s fucked you. Compelled by greed and his horny brain, he uses his fingers to scoop up his seed and push it back into you. Fingers pushing into your cunt and relishing in the way you jump at the intrusion.

“Don’t want it going to waste now do we, doll?”

“You’re a– hah– freak,” you whine at him.

“You fuckin’ like it,” he slips his two fingers deep inside and curls them, “Bet if I hadn’t pinned you, you’d be a little freak yourself.”

Your hips grind down into his hand, apparently insatiable and willing to cum for him for the third time tonight. Needy all over again that it’s almost embarrassing how willing to be fucked by his fingers you are. If Toji didn’t seem so keen to give you what you wanted you’d probably feel ashamed of how you twitch down onto his digits soaked in a mix of both your cum.

You gasp at him, “It’s– ah!– too much.”

“See…” he grins, “…You say that, but you’re rutting down into me so needily that I’m not sure I believe you.”

He enjoys the way your overstimulated body jerks at his touch, cunt swallowing his fingers happily. The sight of your overfilled pussy trying to push his cum out only for his fingers to shove it back in making his chest vibrate with groans. His thumb rubs into your clit and you whine pathetically at him, your hand clamping over your mouth as your toes curl.

So soon after your last orgasm that you’re finishing with barely any work from him, your walls gripping him as you whimper into your palm. Thighs trembling from the force of it, you can’t even hear anything, gaze so bleary that you’re unable to see for a few moments. Toji doesn’t stop moving his hand until you go limp on the bed, your breaths heaved as you struggle to collect yourself.

When he groans, you open your eyes to watch the way he sucks on his fingers. Cleaning them of the lewd mess from the both of you, he’s smug when he sees the way he’s flustered you with his actions.

“You’re so gross,” you whinge at him.

He only laughs as he gets off the bed and ransacks your apartment for something to wipe the pair of you down with. Touch gentle as he wipes between your legs with the cloth he’s found. Despite how careful he is with you, you flinch, so sensitive that you feel like you might break.

Once he’s cleaned you enough, he flops down beside you and pulls you to him, “Think we broke it in enough?”

You consider, “I don’t know… we might have to do that all again.”

“Because the beds not broken in or because you wanna get dicked down again?”

“Just wanna see if it’s like that every time.”

“It’ll be better,” he speaks low, “I went easy on you.”

A shiver runs down your spine, taking him for his word, “Then… next time?”

“Next time,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head, “I’m taking you out on a date first.” Not able to leave it as a nice moment, he adds, “And then I’m taking you back to my place to make you properly beg for it.”

“You’re gonna kill me.”

“Maybe but it’ll feel real good,” he chuckles.

You roll your eyes at him, “Fine but you gotta help with all the rest of my furniture.”

“Doll, with the state of your bed before I came over, I almost feel obligated to,” smooth in how he says, “I don’t wanna be visiting such a sad apartment all the time.”

He’s as presumptuous as ever but you don’t feel the need to point that out to him, since he��s right and all.

𝐀/𝐍: this was supposed to be up before christmas but then i had to do things to prep for it UGH... as per usual this fic was only meant to be like... 5k maybe a little less and i got carried away hehe. anyways,, happy holidays all !!! i hope you enjoy !!! <3

[⚠︎] — 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: do not reupload / repost / translate / plagiarise my works © all works are the intellectual property of lovelivision

[hischierslovergirl]

G'mornin'! I just saw your post and I want to say it's always warming seeing someone getting back into writing!! And so please can I request:

Luke Hughes with "the first initial kiss being a peck, then they immediately go back in for a stronger, more passionate one" + "I'll give you a ride, don't worry."

Have a lovely day and take your time, no rush <33

Thank you so much for requesting and for your encouragement xx. This turned a bit longer than I anticipated, but I hope you enjoy!

Just when you thought your day couldn’t get any worse, your car decided to show you just how bad it could get. You’d already had a long and crappy shift of dealing with handsy old men, your manager and coworkers were seemingly fighting to see who could piss you off the most, you had spilled a red colored drink on your white top, and now you had to deal with whatever problem your car has now. Needless to say, you were over it.

Members of the club you worked at passed you by without even a simple glance in your direction as you stood there with frustrated tears welling in your eyes, phone to your ear as you tried to get a hold of anyone. Your hopes of someone coming to your rescue dwindled with each unanswered call until you had officially given up. You sank to the ground, knees pulled to your chest and back pressed against your car as you let out a sigh of defeat.

“Hey,” You heard a familiar voice call out.

You slowly lifted your head up from its spot between your knees and your gaze landed on Luke, one of the guys you grew friendly with during his many trips to the golf course. Though, truthfully, you had always been a bit more than friendly with him on occasion, always throwing subtle flirty remarks his way that he would bashfully return. He was a little on the shyer side than most of the guys you encountered at work, but you liked it. You liked him.

“Hi, Luke,” You weakly smiled at him, hoping the sun had set enough that he couldn’t make out the small streaks of mascara underneath your eyes.

“Is everything okay,” He carefully asks, taking a few steps closer to you with his hands shoved into his pockets, “I thought your shift was over a few hours ago?”

You decide to ignore the fact that he remembered you always got off at three on Tuesdays, but it still made your chest warm.

“It was,” You confirm, your eyes flickering to his usual group of rambunctious friends a few feet away from him before finding Luke again, “My car isn’t starting, and I can’t seem to find anyone to come pick me up, so I’m stuck here until my parents get back from the city in a few hours.”

“A few hours,” Luke lets out in disbelief before he shakes his head, his curls bouncing around in disarray, “Absolutely not. I can take you home. You’re not waiting out here for hours.”

“Luke, no,” You stressed, finally rising to your feet so you’re closer to eye level with him, though he still has quite a few inches on you, “I can handle waiting a bit longer. It’s okay. Plus, it’s way out of your way.”

A fact you knew courtesy of the time Jack had invited you to a party they had sometime last summer. A party that you left early because of the multitude of girls hoarding the one person you had gone there for.

“Doesn’t matter,” He stubbornly stands his ground, hesitantly taking a step towards you, “I’ll give you a ride, okay? Don’t worry. Making sure you get home safe will never be out of my way.”

Luke didn’t take no for an answer, and that was exactly how you ended up in seat of his expensive car with his music softly playing in the background. You had never been alone with Luke before, let alone in such a confined space, and it made you nervous. Any of the usual teasing and flirtatious remarks you would throw his way were left in the parking lot of the country club, only awkward casual conversation falling from your mouth now.

Luke kept stumbling over his words, occasionally veering off into a rant of sorts whenever certain things were brought up, and it made a smile twitch at your lips. After a few minutes he would realize that he had been talking far too long, though you didn’t mind, and he would mumble a bashful apology before directing the conversation into something different. By the time you were nearing your house, a bout of silence had fallen over the two of you and you watched everything flashed by.

“This is the one,” You pointed to the house on the right side of the street, “You can just drop me off at the end. I can walk the rest of the way.”

Luke brought his car to a stop right in front of your house, quickly throwing it into gear and grabbing the key before he was darting out of his seat. You watched him with furrowed brows and curious eyes as he jogged to the passenger door before carefully tugging it open. He was sporting a shy, timid smile, his hand grasping at the frame of the car as he patiently waited for you.

“Thank you,” You sheepishly mumble, hugging your bag to your side as you slip out of the seat.

“Of course,” He clears his throat, awkwardly shifting on his feet, “I’ll walk you to your door.”

Luke walked close enough to you that his hand kept brushing your arm, making warmth spread up your neck and to your cheeks as you kept your gaze on the ground in front of you. Once you were standing in front of the door, you finally turned to face Luke and you couldn’t help but admire the way he looked under the warm porch light. His features were soft and delicate, his curls framed his face in a way that made your mind run rampant with the idea of running your hands through them.

“Thank you, again,” You swallow thickly, “For taking me home. I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime,” He nods, and you swear his eyes drift down to your lips, “It’s the least I can do after all the gatorade’s you supply for me and the boys.”

His joke brings a quiet giggle out of you as you playfully shake your head, “I definitely make sure to keep my cart stocked when I know you guys are coming. Though I can never seem to have enough for Jack.”

“Yeah, he throws them back like they’re going to disappear,” He chuckles, his lips tugging upwards into a smile.

“I believe that,” You airily chuckle, your gaze quickly darting to his mouth before looking away, “Well, I’m sure you probably have better things to do tonight, but I really do appreciate you.”

You hastily stand on your toes to place a small and delicate kiss on his cheek, your eyes fluttering closed for a fleeting moment until you were flat on your feet again. When you meet Luke’s eyes again, there was a certain glint to his eyes that made you nervous, but he gave you no time to dwell on it before he was surging forward and slamming his lips on your own. Your reaction was instantaneous, your bag falling from your shoulder as you wrap your arms around his neck and you kiss him back with everything you had in you.

Luke’s hands found purchase on your waist, his fingers pressing into your skin as he brings you further into his chest. His mouth is moving against yours, unyielding and fueled by months of suppressed feelings as you lose yourself in the moment. It felt like the two of you were connected for hours when you regrettably pull away from him to catch your breath, his hands sliding to the small of your back to keep you close to him.

“I’m sorry,” He eventually breathes out, his chest heaving against you, “I just— Um, I’ve wanted to do that for a long time and I—”

“Luke,” You tenderly cut him off, peering up at him through your eyelashes, “I’ve been thinking about that for a long time, honestly. Actually, I was wondering if we could do it again sometime?”

[hazzashouse]

Hii, I hope you are doing great !

I saw that your requests are open and I was wondering if you could write something about y/n not being famous and she is not accepted and treated badly by Harry’s celebrity group of friends which will put to test her relationship with Harry.

Thank you so much, and happy holidays !! 💕

A/N: This was such a fun request to write! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed putting it together. It’s a mix of angst, fluff, and a lot of emotion. Thank you for trusting me with this idea, and I hope it resonates with you!

Triggers: Emotional manipulation, unkind behavior, insecurity

Pairing: Harry Styles x Female!Reader (Y/N)

Word Count: 2,167

You knew it wouldn’t be easy.

Being with Harry meant stepping into a world so far removed from your own that at times, it felt like you’d fallen through the looking glass. It wasn’t that you doubted your love for him or his love for you—it was undeniable, unshakable. But you weren’t naïve. You knew his fame came with its challenges, and the hardest one wasn’t the paparazzi or the scrutiny from strangers on the internet. It was his friends.

They weren’t all bad, of course. There were a few who made an effort to get to know you, to see you for who you were beyond the label of “Harry’s girlfriend.” But most of them… most of them didn’t.

Tonight was one of those nights.

The party was at one of Harry’s favorite spots in Los Angeles, a sleek, exclusive venue where everyone seemed to glitter with a level of confidence and beauty you couldn’t help but envy. You’d been nervous from the start, clinging to Harry’s hand as he introduced you to people whose names you struggled to remember.

“Just stick with me, love,” he’d said earlier that evening, pressing a kiss to your temple. “It’ll be fine.”

And for a while, it was. Harry stayed close, his arm around your waist as he guided you through the room. But then he was whisked away by someone wanting to discuss music, and you were left standing near the bar, nursing a drink and feeling utterly out of place.

That’s when the whispers started.

At first, you tried to ignore them, telling yourself you were imagining things. But the pointed glances, the half-smirks, and the subtle head tilts in your direction were impossible to miss.

“Does she even know who she’s talking to?”

“She’s cute, but… I don’t get it. Harry could do so much better.”

“She looks so uncomfortable. It’s kind of painful to watch.”

The words stung, each one landing like a small, sharp jab. You kept your head high, determined not to let it show. But when one of Harry’s friends—a model you’d met once before—approached you with a patronizing smile, your resolve began to crack.

“So,” she said, swirling her cocktail as she looked you up and down, “how’s it going, Y/N? Adjusting to all… this?”

“It’s fine,” you replied, forcing a polite smile.

“Must be overwhelming,” she continued, her tone dripping with faux concern. “I mean, it’s not really your world, is it?”

You clenched your jaw, searching for a way out of the conversation. But before you could respond, she leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Don’t take it personally,” she said, her smile sharp. “It’s just… we’ve all known Harry for years. We’ve seen him with people who… well, let’s just say they were a better fit.”

Her words hit you like a slap, and you felt your chest tighten with a mix of hurt and anger. You didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing how much she’d gotten under your skin, so you excused yourself, heading for the nearest exit.

The cool night air was a welcome relief as you stepped outside, leaning against the railing and taking deep breaths. You tried to shake off her words, to remind yourself that they didn’t matter. But they did.

“Y/N?”

You turned to see Harry standing in the doorway, his brows furrowed in concern. He crossed the distance between you in a few quick strides, his hand coming to rest gently on your arm.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice soft but urgent. “I’ve been looking for you.”

You hesitated, unsure how to put your feelings into words. “Nothing,” you said eventually, though the shakiness in your voice betrayed you. “I just… needed some air.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed slightly, and you could see the gears turning in his head. “Y/N,” he said, his tone firmer now. “Tell me the truth. What happened?”

For a moment, you considered brushing it off, pretending everything was fine. But then the hurt bubbled up to the surface, and before you could stop yourself, the words came spilling out.

“I don’t belong here, Harry,” you said, your voice breaking. “I’ve tried, but your friends… they don’t want me here. They think I’m not good enough for you.”

Harry’s expression shifted from concern to something darker—anger, though not directed at you. His jaw tightened, and he looked away for a moment, as if trying to rein in his emotions.

“Who said that?” he asked finally, his voice low and controlled.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said quickly, not wanting to cause a scene. “It’s not just one person. It’s the way they look at me, the things they say when they think I’m not listening. They don’t think I’m… enough.”

Harry’s hand moved to cup your face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “You are more than enough. You’re everything. And if they can’t see that, then that’s their problem, not yours.”

You swallowed hard, leaning into his touch. “But what if they’re right?” you whispered. “What if I’m just… not the kind of person who fits into your world?”

Harry shook his head, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “Y/N, my world is wherever you are. None of this”—he gestured toward the party inside—“means anything without you. And if anyone thinks they can make you feel unwelcome or unworthy, they’ll have to answer to me.”

You let out a shaky laugh, the weight on your chest easing slightly. “You can’t fight all your friends for me, Harry.”

He smiled then, his expression softening. “I won’t have to. Because once I’m done having a word with them, they’ll know better than to treat you like this again.”

Before you could respond, Harry pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you like a shield. You felt the tension begin to melt away as you rested your head against his chest, his heartbeat steady and reassuring.

“I love you,” he murmured into your hair. “And nothing—no one—is going to change that.”

—————

True to his word, Harry didn’t let the matter drop. When the two of you returned to the party, he made a point of staying by your side, his presence a clear signal to anyone who dared to question your place in his life.

Later, you found yourself sitting on the couch in his dressing room as he paced back and forth, recounting the conversations he’d had with a few of his more tactless friends.

“They’re idiots,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I told them that if they can’t respect you, they can’t call themselves my friends.”

You watched him, your heart swelling with gratitude and love. “Harry,” you said softly, reaching out to take his hand. “You didn’t have to do all that.”

“Yes, I did,” he said, sitting down beside you and pulling you into his lap. “You’re the most important person in my life, Y/N. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you know that.”

You smiled, resting your forehead against his. “Thank you,” you whispered.

He kissed you then, slow and sweet, as if to remind you of everything you shared. And in that moment, you knew that no amount of judgment or criticism could ever come between you.

Because what you had with Harry was real. And nothing else mattered.

[cometconmain]

I have someone who comes to groom my dog because I physically can't keep up with it. He's extremely good at his job.

He also thinks Trump isn't all that bad a guy, the Democrats are the anti-human rights party, had no idea the Supreme Court was a thing/is controlled by Republicans and that's why so many human rights are being rolled back in America, refuses to actually use his privilege of having a preferential voting system to not have to vote for the two major shitty parties because he insists on believing nothing good has been done despite numerous proving points to the contrary in his own life let alone others' lives, thinks climate change is a hoax and can't wrap his head around why university studies need to be checked for a donor list and a fossil fuel company supported 'study' isn't reliable actually, hasn't even learned the most basic empathy concept of "you not suffering from a problem other people suffer from doesn't make that problem less important/you should care about people whose lives you don't experience", outright said with his full chest that maybe we should racially segregate the Olympics again actually, and a number of other toxic to downright rancid things I would have just written him off and slammed the door in his face for last year let alone a few years ago.

Don't get me wrong. Talking to him is fucking EXHAUSTING and I feel physically disgusting afterward having to just calmly listen to all these things he spouts which have historically resulted in entire groups of people being targeted for genocide and numerous other human rights abuses when left unchecked and allowed to fester at the societal level.

BUT HE LISTENS WHEN I CHALLENGE HIM.

I can see him actually seeing me as a human being worth listening to. He's older than me and definitely been down way too many right-wing rabbit holes for me to pull him onto the surface any time soon. But I'm giving him things to chew on and hopefully if we're lucky I've planted some seeds which will eventually grow into some semi decent human being plants one day. He's really ignorant and clearly under-educated and that itself isn't his fault and biting his head off isn't remotely going to make up for that gap and is only going to drive him further into the arms of whatever fucked up extremist conservative groups he's been listening to.

He is reachable. He's just also a very long project I only get to work on for an hour at a time every 6 weeks.

And some of the things I've said which I think were part of what got through to him involved showing empathy for him being a single father(? I may have mixed that up with someone else but I think he is) with a disabled kid. He shows empathy for disabled people because he's the father of one (and probably is neurodivergent himself I believe but unsupported and doing his best to give his son the support he didn't get from the sounds of it).

But yeah.

Listen: you don't have to take shit to the face if the person is solely malicious and trying to hurt you. No one is obligated to meet that with kindness and anyone saying otherwise can get fucked. There is a limit to how much bullshit someone can cop while the bullshitter acts like any emotional response to their bullshit is unreasonable/out of nowhere and that is valid on the part of the person copping the crap.

However, if you a) can handle coping long enough to break down those walls with unexpected kindness/it isn't dangerous for you to try that method (VERY IMPORTANT. PAY ATTENTION TO THOSE DETAILS. DON'T TRY THAT ON SOMEONE WHO IS ACTIVELY THREATENING/DANGEROUS TO YOU), or b) can tell it's soft bigotry/general ignorance driving the otherwise yuck things being said, do give the compassion and patient education route a try.

I've had numerous instances of me holding shitty ignorant beliefs I had no idea were actually harmful. The people biting my head off didn't get to me. The people who took the time to see I was just ignorant and under-educated on the matter (and hadn't yet developed the empathy for a group I didn't belong to) taking me aside and patiently dealing with my idiocy long enough to explain things to me in a way that got through my skull (and eventually into my heart as well) were the ones who fundamentally improved me as a person. I still have plenty of things I always have to work on. But I can tell you now I would be much MUCH worse without those patient, kind, educational interventions by people who could tell the difference between malice and ignorance.

The same applies to everyone else.

Human beings are human beings. All of us. Re-humanising each other is the last thing any of the politicians and extremist groups want us to do BECAUSE IT WORKS. IT BREAKS THE WARPED MODEL OF THE WORLD THEY PORTRAY AS REALITY TO DIVIDE US AND KEEP US ALL AT EACH OTHER'S THROATS INSTEAD OF CUTTING OFF THE FOOD SOURCE FOR THEIR WEEDS AT THE ROOT.

When we remind a hurting person that we are a person too, not the bogeyman the extremist groups paint us as, it shakes their warped worldview to the core. It makes them think. It makes them QUESTION. It makes them look at the flower the 'evil' Pride-pin wearer gave them because no one gave them flowers when their mother died and their hate begins to crack at the seams.

The things the world teaches men hurts men too. Teaching them they DON'T have to subscribe to that mentality all the way down to the roots of the patriarchy weed is the best and most effective way of cutting that mentality off at the source. Even if you struggle to empathise with men because you've been hurt; ok, valid. But it is demonstrably more effective, sustainable and long term changing to just get rid of all of it by addressing their pain and showing them how much healthier and happier they can be just in their own life let alone others' lives by casting off the system that hurts them too.

I'm pretty sure I'm just rehashing the same points here, sorry, but the concept of deradicalisation as a healing and long term change tool has been my social justice special interest this year so talking it out helps it solidify in my own head too. (And gives me strength to deal with bullshit because it reminds me it's worth copping what I can personally handle in order to get someone to think, change and grow, one exhausting person at a time).

part of the reason i love how bell hooks talks about masculinity is that she shows real compassion towards men suffering from the effects of toxic masculinity. she was conscious of how we need to unlearn the ways we talk about men + masculinity just as much as we need to unlearn the same for women + femininity. so many times ill see someone talking about toxic masculinity like (hyperbolizing here but only slightly) “these FUCKING STUPID BABY BITCHES won’t MAN UP and go to a therapist!!!” and like. i get the anger. but you see feminists recreating patriarchal manhood by only promoting good behaviors through patriarchal frameworks. any use of the term “real men” is bad because it reifies the idea that manhood is a special title you must earn, and it is something possible to fail and fake. & as important as it is to promote sexual equality + the pleasure of non-cis-men, lots of people are essentially still working with the idea that men need sexual prowess to have worth but just shifting it slightly so there is more emphasis on women’s pleasure. but I want cis men to think about their partners’ pleasure because they care about their partners, not because they need to check a box in order to keep their man card. and don’t get me started on small dick jokes– and the absolutely pitiful excuse people will use that “well, I don’t believe it, but misogynistic men get upset when I say it, so it’s okay!”

basically bell hooks is so fucking right. in order to create loving men we need to love men, simply for being alive, whether or not they are performing. as much as we need to actively unlearn misogyny (and we do), it’s equally vital we unlearn patriarchal ways of seeing manhood. we can’t just assume that taking a feminist perspective automatically means there is no work to be done there.

[straylightdream]

always

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: bang chan x f.reader

loving someone who can’t return your feelings can be heartbreaking.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞(𝐬): angst, friends to ??

𝐚𝐮(𝐬): nonidol au, underground boxer au

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2k

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: injuries from fighting, cuts, mentions of blood and stitches, talks about powerful men who want to get leverage on Chan, lots of tears, and angst

𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: pg 13

𝐚𝐧: sorry I haven’t posted a skz story in a minute.

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

It had been a rough night to say the least. You laid in the same bed with a foot between the two of you. The room was so silent it seemed to leave a ringing sound in the room. Chan wore nothing but his boxers that sat low on his hips. He was laying on his back with his hand holding his side that had a pair of cracked ribs. His breathing was pretty uneven because he was in so much pain. The night had left him stumbling into your apartment with a deep gash on right below his collarbone, that you had to stitch up as he sat at your kitchen table. Unfortunately Chan coming to your apartment beat up wasn’t anything new. This was a side effect to him being an underground boxer.

Biting your bottom lip, you stared at the man who seemed to easily hold your heart in his hands. Luckily, he wasn’t careless with your heart, he was well aware you were in love with him. He went out of his way to make sure you didn’t get hurt, but knew at some point he was going to break your heart without even trying.

Laying on your side you reached your hand out slowly as it shook. You wanted to touch him to pull him close to you, but you knew you shouldn’t do it. He wasn’t your boyfriend, and probably was never going to be. A normal friendship between a boy and a girl normally didn’t involve the boy getting the shit beat out of him and then crawling through your window beaten. Normally the girl wouldn’t have to stitch him up and then beg him to spend the night so you would know he was safe.

His eyes were closed as he attempted to get some sleep, but he wasn’t going to be able to sleep, at least not until you had a very important conversation. You were well aware he wasn’t asleep even with him laying there with his eyes closed.

Your hand reached out a little more so you could touch him, but before you were able to touch him, you pulled your hand away. You needed to tell him that you couldn’t take this anymore, but you were terrified.

“Chan?” Your voice was shaky as you were unsure of if you should even be speaking.

“Yeah?” his eyes opened up as they blankly stared at the ceiling.

“What is going on here?” You whispered as tears continued to slide down your cheek.

“I’m a selfish asshole,” he groaned as his head moved so he was blankly looking in your direction.

“Why did you come to me and not Changbin?” You needed to know if he returned your feelings.

“Because for some reason even though I know I need to leave you alone, I can’t seem to stay away,” he sighed. He knew he was being selfish, that he was well aware of your feelings, and that he should respect them and stay away from you since he couldn’t give you what you truly deserved.

“I don’t want you to stay away, but I need you to know how I actually feel.”

He nodded his head and moved his arm from his stomach where it was resting onto the bed so it was about an inch from your hand.

“Chan I’m in love with you and I hate seeing you get hurt, but what hurts most of all is that I know that no matter how much I actually love you…” you hesitated knowing that no matter what was said right now you were never going to be able to take back anything you said. “I’m never going to be able to actually be with you. You won’t ever feel the same way, and I understand but I just need you to know that it hurts loving someone who doesn’t feel the same way.”

There was a silence between you as Chan was taking in everything you had just said to him. He had known for a while that you were in love with him, and he had even let you know that he couldn’t be with anyone as long as he was illegally fighting. It was too risky to actually be with someone. He made a lot of money fighting and he had made some enemies along the way.

“Okay I regret saying all that,” you mumbled at the fact that he hadn’t even said anything in response.

“Hey,” he reached out and rested his hand on top of yours as he lay still on his back. “Give me a second to take in everything you just said to me. I know that you’re in love with me, and believe me I return the feelings. I have for a long time, but…” he paused knowing that what he was about to say was going to hurt both of you. You attempted to brace yourself for whatever was going to come after the “but”. “I can’t be selfish and put you in harm's way. I love you too, but if someone finds out that I have someone that I love, you would be the first person that people would use to get leverage. Too many powerful men know who I am, and I couldn’t live with myself if you got hurt because of me.” His hand that was resting on top of yours gave it a gentle squeeze.

Everything he had just said to you made your world feel like it was spinning. You knew Chan might have some sort of feelings for you, but you never actually expected him to say that he was in love with you too. As your brain was attempting to process the fact, he said he was in love with you, you were also realizing that it didn’t matter that you were both in love, because you couldn’t be together.

“What happens here then?” You sighed.

“I’m not sure exactly, I should probably give you space,” he moved his hand away from you.

You shook your head to yourself refusing to let him walk away from you right now, “Bang Chan you don’t get to tell me you love me, and then say you should give me space.”

He slowly moved so he was sitting up and you laid next to him still in bed wondering if he was actually getting up to leave. He stood up and groaned as he grabbed his side.

“Are you seriously getting up to leave?” You asked quickly getting out of bed. He groaned as he reached on the floor searching for his pants that were on the floor. “Chan,” you got up and ran to the other side of the bed so you were standing in front of him. He didn’t say anything as he reached his hand out so he was cupping your cheek. He stepped forward a little so there were a couple inches between you, you looked up at him as he held your face with one hand. The tension between them seemed to grow even more as you licked your lips as your breathing seemed to pick up. “Please don’t leave, I just poured my heart out to you,” you whispered.

“I’m so selfish when it comes to you, and it's not fair to you,” he sighed as his thumb brushed a tear off your cheek. “I want to give you the world, but I can’t.”

“I’m not asking for the world,” you reached up so your hand held his wrist. “I’m just asking for you to show me that you actually love me.”

“I can’t let you get hurt because of me,” he sighed. “I should start going to Changbin when I get hurt,” his hand was still holding your face as he attempted to convince you and himself that he needed to give you space.

“Chan, please don’t pull away from me, if you do that it will break my heart,” your hand held onto his wrist not wanting him to leave.

“We can’t be together, not right now at least,” he sighed.

Your breathing seemed to catch in your throat for a moment at what he had just said. The tears seemed to slide down your cheek even harder suddenly, and it was as if he held your heart in his other hand, and that he just crushed it.

“Okay,” you pulled away from him shaking your head. “You can have your space if you want it,” your voice was shaky as you were trying your hardest to not sob.

“You mean the world to me, and I don’t want to hurt you, but being with me isn’t safe.” He reached out to grab your wrist. He needed you to know that he wanted to be with you, but it just wasn’t an option. “I already lost my first love, I can’t deal with losing you too.” He never seemed to move on from his high school sweetheart passing in a tragic car accident almost a decade ago.

“Why does it feel like I’m losing you right now,” the tears continued to slide down your cheek.

“I’m sorry that can’t give you everything,” he took a step closer to you. You reached out and rested your hand on his chest and looked back up at him knowing that he was right. That even though you wanted nothing more than to be with him, you knew deep down inside that a lot of powerful men have lost money because of him. Chan is the best fighter in the city and that has made a lot of men angry. Ultimately it wasn’t safe to be with him. You had watched him lose his first love, and you knew how much that destroyed him.

“I understand we can’t be together, but I can’t deal with losing you as my friend too,” you sighed.

Silently he nodded his head and leaned forward so his forehead was resting against yours. You took a deep breath taking in the sudden closeness.

“I want to kiss you so badly, but I shouldn’t,” he mumbled.

Without saying anything you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his. You kissed him as if this was going to be the only time ever that you were going to be able to feel his lips against yours. His strong hand moved up and rested on your cheek holding you close to him as your lips moved together. Pulling away slowly you let out a sigh.

“What happens between us Chan?” You asked, wondering if things would ever be the same after tonight.

He sighed and said, “we attempt to be friends.”

“Okay,” you said softly. You didn’t want to be only friends but you knew it was for the best. “If one day you walk away from fighting, would you actually give us a chance?” You asked, needing to know if maybe one day you stood a chance at being together.

He nodded his head and gave you a sad smile, “I’m not going to ask you to wait around for that day, but when I’m finally no longer a fighter I would like us to be together.”

“Let’s go back to bed,” you reached down and laced your fingers with his. You led him back towards the bed. He slowly got back in bed groaning at the pain from his cracked ribs.

You laid in the bed in the same positions you had been laying in before. Your hand was resting on the bed between you, slowly he reached over and laced his fingers with your.

“Thank you for always taking care of me,” he said softly.

“I’ll always take care of you,” you said knowing that no matter what happened between you, that you would always care about him.

“I hope one day that I’ll actually be able to give you the world,” he said gently, squeezing your hand.

You couldn’t help but smile at the possibility that maybe one day you could be together.

[luvs4matt]

I’m not trying to rush u, but when is soaked part 5 gonna happen 😭 I dying to what happened next

𝐒𝐎𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐃 , 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟓 ✿ 𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐅!𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐖 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎

“oh baby.. is daddy makin’ your mind all fuzzy? huh?”

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 - dilf!matt x subby!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - in which, when matt witnesses reader letting someone flirt with her, he has no choice but to remind her who she belongs to.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - SMUT 18+, daddy kink, sir kink, begging, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, cow girl, praise, breeding, size kink, pet names (baby, honey, sweetheart, princess, good girls, sweet girl, angel, babe, bunny)

𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐂𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 vulnerable, all by yourself. you find your way to your feet, running out of the bedroom. thank god lilly wasn’t home, because if she was, if she walked out of her bedroom, she would see you completely naked running around.

you finally found matt in the kitchen; you ran up to him and dug your face into his shoulder “matty.. m’sorry” tears start to well in your eyes, why would he leave you there like that? “yeah? y’gonna stop bein’ bad an’ lying, sayin’ that i’m mean when i have been so much nicer than i should’ve been after how you acted”

you nod “yes sir, i promise” he chuckles “you promise, huh?” you hummed as you nodded “well, then we should get my sweet girl out of the handcuffs, yeah?” you nodded again “please.. they are starting to hurt..” before he left the bedroom, he had put on a pair of sweatpants, and brought the key with him.

he turned you around as he grabbed the key from his pocket “there you go baby”

“thank you” he grabbed your waist “you wanna take your plug out too princess?”

“yes” he nodded “okay, just bend over the counter, alright?” you did just as he said, bending over the counter. you winced as he pulled it out “i know it hurts baby, m’sorry” he hugged you from behind before leaving kisses down your neck “need you matty..” he smirks “yeah?”

“mhm” you grind yourself back onto him “you think i teased you enough already tonight? hm?”

“yes sir” he turns you back around, placing his lips on yours. you were desperate, you tried to deepen the kiss but he pulled away “no baby, be patient. try it again and i’ll put you back in your cuffs”

“m’sorry” he kissed you again, this time, you moved at his pace. he lifted you onto the counter, never separating your lips. you gasp as you feel his fingers slowly trace up your thigh, he smiled “mm.. so sensitive” you let out a quiet whine, desperate for more attention.

“don’t worry princess, daddy’ll touch you soon, okay?” you nodded “okay.. just please don’t make it too long” he chuckles at your neediness “i won’t baby.. i won’t” he smiles as he kisses you.

he lifts you from the counter, bringing you to the couch. he sits you on top of him, allowing you to be on his lap “gon’ ride me honey?” you hummed “c’mon.. we’ve been working so hard on using our words, use ‘em” you rolled your hips against his bulge “yes sir, m’gonna ride you”

“good girl” you whimpered as you continued grinding on him “take my pants off sweet girl” you did as he said before getting back on top of him “can i now daddy?”

“go ahead angel” you line up your hole with his tip, he holds your waist as you sink down onto him. you struggled, his dick already so deep inside. it feels deeper with you being on top “need help babe?”

“yes.. please help me.. so deep..” he pushes you down until you have taken him all “see, you can do it” you sat there for a minute, in his arms, letting yourself get used to his size. no matter how many times you have sex, you’ve never got used to his size.

matt uses the grip on your waist to roll your hips, the sudden movements making you whimper “f- feels good..” he removes one hand from your waist, using it to hold your face “yeah?” you start to move yourself, bouncing on his cock.

you forgot all pain you were experiencing when he brought your face to his, your lips colliding together “just the prettiest little lips” he mumbled against you. you whined as he deepened the kiss.

you gasp as he suddenly starts thrusting up into you, you moan as he hits all of your spots “my good girl.. taking it so well” he bites his lip as he watches your face twist in pleasure “always- fuck- always take my dick like a fuckin’ champ, don’t you princess?”

you can’t comprehend what he is saying, you just know that you feel so good “oh baby..” his voice was laced with faux sympathy “is daddy makin’ your mind all fuzzy? huh?” your eyes rolled back. matt was right, your mind is all fuzzy, but you didn’t know he was right, you had no idea what he just said.

he brought you back into reality with a few taps on your cheek “i- huh?” he smiled “you’re so adorable.. you can’t even think straight” you couldn’t form a sentence, the pleasure was just so overwhelming “cum?” he wasn’t going to make you work for it this time “cum baby”

a loud moan erupted from your throat as you came around his cock hard “daddy’s close honey, it’s almost over” you whined in overstimulation “squeezin’ me so tight” he groaned.

as he was building his orgasm, he was also building your second one. “gonna cum with me sweetheart?” you frantically nodded.

he thrusted a few more times before he shot his load into you, triggering your orgasm “daddy!” he rides out your highs before you cradle yourself into him, allowing him to hold you, running his hands up and down your back “good bunny.. good bunny”

© luvs4matt

a/n - a little christmas present for you guys 💋💋

[birdyisthewordyy]

hii!! i wanna start by saying i really enjoy ur work & i love ur writing 🫂🫂

i saw ur hcs about jimmy x reader w self harm scars and as someone who struggles with self harm i felt very seen!! i was wondering if u would write the same hcs for the rest of the crew because it would make me very happy 😼

feel free to ignore this if u dont want to do it ofc!!!!

A/N: absolutely I will! I’m so sorry I’ve been dead for a bit but I’m back!

Crew with a reader who has self harm scars

Warnings: self harm scars mentioned but no actual self harm takes place

Curly

He didn’t think you’d be the type to self harm at all

You always seemed so full of life

Whether you were joyful or not you just seemed so self assured and passionate

So when he sees you crying one day and asks what’s wrong and you SHOW him what’s wrong

He feels awful

Hugs you instantly

Lets you wet his shirt with your tears

Eventually he lets go and he pats your back

He talks to you about life

And how you’ve gotta roll with the punches

Curly pep talk trademark

Copyright

Spends the night with you

Stays up as late as he can watching over you

And then falls asleep beside you

Wakes up and acts like nothing even happened

You’re like “what are we”

And he’s like “that’s what friends are for don’t worry about it”

Jimmy

Click here

Swansea

Swansea knew something was up with you

He wasn’t sure what but he knew something was up

So when he sees clusters of little scars on your arm he can’t help the sharp inhale he takes in

He knew it

He’s been around his fair share of angsty teens

He finds a way to pull you to the side and talk to you about it

Puts a hand on your shoulder all fatherly

He wants to help any way that he can

So he lets you talk about your past and how you recovered

Tells you he’s proud of you

Might get a little misty eyed

MIGHT

Big might

Daisuke

Doesn’t even notice until you trust him enough to tell him

He immediately hugs you and cries a little for you though

He cares so much about you and wants you to be okay

It doesn’t matter if they’re 3 years old this man will BAWL

kisses your scars

Platonic or romantic he doesn’t care

He will maybe buy you some creams or lotions if you mention that you don’t like the way they look

If you’re confident in them though he says they make you look gorgeous

Says that anyway actually

Thinks you are gorgeous all over

He doesn’t care what your past is

He loves you all the same

Anya

Click here

[doctorho]

this one is for eveyone who needs some extra love around these times.

Viktor knows better than he'd like that life isn't always...pretty. Or simple, or easy, or fair. No matter how hard most of Piltover seemed to pretend that there was something magical in the midwinter turnpoint that made everyone suddenly forget the suffering and misery and the complexities of real-life situations, he knows that's not the case.

Which is why he doesn't ask stupid questions when you stay at the Academy over winter break. He doesn’t pry; he doesn’t need to. It's evident enough in the way you preoccupy yourself with work that it's something you'd rather not discuss. You're focusing harder than usual, and he's familiar enough with what that precarious, tight-knuckle grip on being okay.

And Viktor?

Well. Viktor's more than happy to be a distraction.

When he gets to the lab, mid-morning, you're already there. He's not exactly surprised; he'd anticipated this. Maybe even hoped for it. He'd worked with you for a while now and grown exponentially more attached to your company - not that he'd told you the extent of his affections. But he'd get to that. Hopefully.

He came prepared with two warm drinks and still-steaming pastries, and he silently starts unloading those to the common desk that had been designated as the makeshift kitchen of the room.

"Good morning," he says casually, "I brought breakfast." He thinks of adding if you want some, but upon reflection, doesn't. There's a fine line between respecting someone's free will and pushing them to make good choices, and he's currently erring hard to the side of I don't know if you've eaten anything yet today but you definitely should.

You only hum in response, not lifting your eyes off your current project.

In response to this, he hums back and tilts his head, studies the organized mess on your desk; circuit boards, either half-assembled or half-taken apart, he's not sure, stripped wires, a steaming soldering iron. Your hands, shaking a little.

He places the drink intended for you on your desk, just annoyingly out-of-reach, and waits for you to look up.

"When was the last time you ate something?" he asks, holding up the pastry now that he has your attention.

"Why does that matter?" you ask, reaching for the takeaway cup on the edge of your desk. Viktor leans the handle of his cane to block your reach, which makes you look up at him. Properly.

"Just trying to determine if I should make you take a lunch break while I'm bothering you, or if the pastry will suffice."

He lifts his eyebrows, waiting for you to answer.

You shift in your seat. He can hear your back crack in several places, and not in the pleasant type of way.

"Last night," you answer, leaning back with a sigh, then quietly add, "I think."

Viktor reaches over to turn off your soldering iron. "Lunchbreak it is, then. These can be dessert."

"I'm fine-" you start, and he lifts an eyebrow.

"I don't believe you," he says, completely casually, "I think you're pushing through low blood sugar to get this-" he gestures towards the desk, "finished, and I can tell you it's much easier to make mistakes when you aren't thinking clearly."

When you're quiet, he continues, picking up your coat and offering it to you. "You can trust me on this," he says, "I have more than enough experience."

You take a deep breath and sigh it out, feeling somewhat like a toddler.

"I promise you can go right back to poking at this later." He adds, and you slowly take the jacket from him.

"Good," he says, "I know a place."

It's a careful dance, and he knows this; he doesn’t want to push you. But he's been there, and he doesn’t want you to suffer more than absolutely necessary. And he really does know a place.

He re-packs the drinks and the pastries, and you follow him to a nearby cafe-and-drink-cart that's serving small steaming dishes outside. They're serving small steaming cups of - stew? Soup? And warm bread filled with different things, and you hadn't really noticed it before, but now that you were looking at - and smelling - the food, you were starving.

By the time you've registered the selection, he's already ordered for the both of you, and then the guy at the cart is offering you a brown paper bag and Viktor is moving again, and you take a few hurried steps to catch up with him.

"Where are we going?"

You can see him smile before he answers.

"Well," he says, "I was thinking we could take advantage of the great hall being empty, and eat there." He turns to look at you with an eyebrow raised, "I can only imagine how displeased the Academy Staff would be if we risked dirtying their marble floors with common food."

"Oh, really, you can only imagine?"

He shrugs, grinning. "Are you insinuating I have experience with matters such as these?"

"Yes," you answer, opening the paper bag to study its contents while you walked.

He hums in answer. "I am shocked by your accusations." He says, then, clearly fighting a smile, "I would never get caught breaking such a boring rule."

You smile now, too. "Right," you answer, "only the interesting ones."

The way he glances at you and smiles is more than enough of a response.

He stops at one of the long tables at the grand hall, and as he shrugs off his jacket and sits down, you place down the paper bag and do the same. He starts unpacking the contents of the bag, focused, placing down steaming bowls with a spicy scent to them, paper-covered wraps of something, utensils, and smaller bowls of... something colorful. Spices? Toppings?

Viktor opens the containers one by one, making the contents of the single takeaway bag look like a pretty impressive feast.

And you study him as he moves. Careful, confident in his movements, calm. While your insides felt like they were trying to hide, and had felt like that for... a good while now, he was calm like any other day. A rock-solid presence in the otherwise empty room.

"Are you not going to ask me?" you ask, "why I'm working through the winter break."

Viktor's only imminent reaction is the gentle lift of a single eyebrow.

"No," he answers, casually, and it sounds simple when he says it like that.

He meets your eyes, and that feels simple, too; because he is here, too.

It doesn't have to be any more complicated than that. He unwraps a folded paper napkin with careful fingers, and then places a steaming-soft bread in front of you.

You look at him for a moment, and then take a bite of the bread. It is soft and warm and heavenly, and when you taste the stew-soup-something, it's like it warms you down to your soul. You eat in silence; but it feels like there's a gentle bubble of understanding surrounding you.

You hold the warm bowl, and slowly, your hands shake less and less. The tension around your head gives away a little, too.

"Do you like the snow?" Viktor asks, and you follow his gaze out the window.

"I probably shouldn't," he continues, "the cold isn't exactly gentle on me. But it is pretty, I can't deny that."

You hum in answer. "Yeah," you agree with a small sigh, "it is beautiful."

His eyes meet yours, and he tilts his head.

"Do you want to break another rule?" he asks, something michievous curling at the end of his words.

You tilt your head in response. "A more interesting one?"

"Infinitely," he responds with a smile, and you're already on your feet.

And that's how you end up breaking into the roof of the Academy with him. Or, it's probably not technically breaking, since he has the keys, but you definitely aren't supposed to be in there, so that's what it feels like.

It also feels... breathless. And not just because it feels illegal, but it's... it's beautiful, and he holds your hand in the dark stairway and doesn't let go when he guides you to the expanse of the roof, and there's snow floating down all around you-

and for a moment, it feels like you're the only two people in the world, surrounded by a gentle blanket of snow and silence.

Or... not-silence. There is a song softly floating through the air, like it's being reflected in the snowflakes all around you.

And Viktor is offering you a hand.

You furrow your brows as your head catches up with your heart. "Are you asking me to dance?"

"Would you say yes if I was?"

And that was the question, wasn't it;

would you?

Your head tries to butt in with should you, but... something still-soft and light in your heart comes in way too solid with a yes.

Yes, you would.

So you take his hand, and meet him halfway to an embrace. He pulls you close to his chest, and the dance is as gentle as the snowfall around you; just a soft sway from side to side, breathing in sync with the music.

And Viktor isn't sure if this is a good idea, but... you look like you're further away from that edge now, no-longer shaking, and... he hated seeing you in your head that deep, and if he could do anything to help you find your way back to yourself, he'd do that.

It feels a little selfish, this dance, but... it was difficult to justify that when you were in his arms, breathing calm and even.

"I really am fine," you tell him quietly, and he runs a hand up your back slowly. You swallow. "Or I will be, at least."

"I know," he breathes out, and he means it.

You close your eyes, and believe it.

[pulisicsgirl]

home for the holidays - mason mount

summary: just when nothing seems to be going right for Mason and Y/N, her Christmas plans are foiled for the second year in a row, leaving her unsure of how to approach the topic with Mason

pairing: Mason Mount x reader

word count:

warnings/tags: a little bit of angst at the beginning but it all turns fluffy for the rest of it, pre-established relationship, mentions of Mason’s recent injury, hurt/comfort, interrupted beauty sleep, Christmas celebrations :))))))

based on a request from @raremasey as a part two to christmas on my own

notes: Merry Christmas to all who celebrate!!!!! I wasn’t planning on posting another fic before the New Year, but when I got this request, I knew I had to write it in time to post before the holiday season was up! Thank you all for sticking with me through this year 🤍 You all mean more to me than you’ll ever know!! I hope you’re all getting to spend some time resting and enjoying your family/friends!! Please enjoy the fic!!

As Christmas Day approached rather quickly, you thought to yourself that you must never have experienced a holiday season that was quite so dreary.

You had done your best to bring the festive holiday spirit into your home—even into Mason’s as you forced him to join you in decorating his house on the very first day of December, dragging him into a few shops to buy extra decorations to fill his house. He had only pretended to be a little bit annoyed, his aversion to shopping completely overcome by getting to watch the joy on your face while decorating for the holidays. You had spread lights, tinsel, ornaments, and little snowman figurines all over the rooms of his home while you shuffled your Christmas playlist in the background.

Since your addition to his family’s Christmas celebrations last year had been impromptu, this was the first time Mason had gotten to see how much you loved this time of year. He truly thought he had never met someone who was as enthusiastic and joy-filled at the mere thought of Christmas.

However, Mason still couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment each time he remembered that you wouldn’t been spending Christmas morning with his family. He tried his best not to show it— he knew how much it meant to you that your family would be traveling to see you this year.

Your relationship with your parents had felt a bit… well, strained over the last year. Ever since the incident of last Christmas, when they had failed to give you an advance notice of their plans to travel to see your brother for the holiday and leaving you to celebrate alone, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being quite low on their list of priorities. It wasn’t just Christmas; it was a host of other incidences as well. You had done your very best to repair what seemed to have been damaged, and the fact that you would get to see your family for the holiday left you overjoyed. With a couple promotions at work this past year, you had been able to move into a nicer, larger flat, and Mason knew you were excited for them to get to see it—not to mention how glad you were to be together with them on Christmas Day and finally get to introduce them to Mason.

Despite this throwing a wrench in his holiday plans, Mason couldn’t help but think life was starting to look up for the two of you. After another brief spell out of the United squad following his head injury, he was back to getting regular minutes on the pitch, and the new gaffer seemed to be working him in as a more important part of the team. And with your successes in your career, you had been more optimistic than ever. And as the two of you approached your first dating anniversary, you both truly couldn’t have been happier together.

But all of that seemed to come crumbling down in the matter of a few days.

When you had gotten the call from your mother, you almost couldn’t believe your ears.

Your brother had unexpectedly received the news that his work schedule had changed, and he would be expected to work on Christmas Eve—meaning he, his wife, and your 2-month-old niece would be unable to travel to visit you. But your father and mother couldn’t possibly bear to miss the little one’s very first Christmas, so instead they would remain at home and your brother (who lived nearby) would host Christmas instead.

Too much in shock to form much of a thought, you had asked if she was sure. But it was final— the flights had already been cancelled, and they were firm in their decision.

Your stomach sank to your feet, and the only thing you could bring yourself to do was end the call without another word to her. Standing in your kitchen, you cried silently, the tears streaming down your cheeks as a million thoughts ran through your mind. You felt that you would never be enough for your parents, wondered what you had done to deserve such treatment from them.

The news felt like a sharp object had been driven into your heart and you spent the rest of your evening curled up on your bed, wallowing in your feelings and ignoring the calls and texts from your mother after you had unexpectedly ended your conversation.

When you awoke the next morning, your first thought was of talking to Mason about the previous night's events—a conversation that would unfortunately have to wait as he had a big game to play today: the highly anticipated Manchester derby. It was a huge game, not only because of the longstanding rivalry between the two teams, but because Mason was expected to be in the starting eleven.

Knowing you couldn’t bear to serve as a distraction from such a huge moment for him after the months and months of hard work it had taken him to get there, you decided your problems would have to wait. You couldn’t talk to him before the game and risk shifting his focus. But you also couldn’t talk to him after the game—if United lost, it would just be rude to make things about yourself instead; but if they won, you couldn’t possibly bring down his good mood with your complaining.

So then, you decided, you would have to tell him tomorrow… or maybe the next day.

You took a hot shower, hoping to wash away the heavy feeling in your chest and the puffiness of your eyes. You had donned your kit with Mason’s name printed across the back and made your way to the Ethiad stadium.

The crowd was buzzing as they awaited the start of the game. You settled into the private box, greeting Mason’s family, and you knew Lewis could tell there was something off with you, but he didn’t mention it. Everyone was overjoyed at the news of the starting lineups, bringing with it the confirmation that Mason would be starting for the first time in quite a while.

You were overjoyed for him, able to put aside your own sorrows for the time being, eyes shining with happy tears as you watched him walk out onto the pitch while the anthem played.

But for the second time in less than 24 hours, your stomach sank as, 14 minutes into the game, you watched Mason wave the physios over as he sat on the grass. He was too far away for you to be able to make out his facial expression, but there was no mistaking the posture of the rest of his body. As he spoke with the physios and they looked him over, his shoulders slumped, a resigned look taking over him.

As if this day needed another disappointment.

The rest of your day had been spent looking after Mason, bringing him anything you thought he could possibly need so he wouldn’t lift a finger and holding him tight in your arms to ease the disappointment of yet another setback in his recovery.

Surely now you couldn’t mention everything with your parents to him just yet. It would be so cruel to make him feel sorry for your when he was facing such a disappointment of his own. Perhaps you would just have to wait until his spirits were lifted—even just a little.

But as days passed and time got away from you, Christmas Day crept closer and closer, and Mason’s mood didn’t seem to be improving at all. You did everything in your power to cheer him up— bought him little treats and left them with notes for him to find, sending sweet little text messages throughout the day to let him know how proud you were of the hard work he was putting into recovering. You even went so far as to take a couple days off of work to make a long weekend for yourself and spent the time off pampering him with a bit of a spa weekend as best you could.

And though he always expressed his appreciation for your efforts, the smile he gave you was all too forced, and you knew he was still hurting inside. He had apologized to you a few times now for “being a right grump,” afraid he would ruin your excitement for Christmas time— and after that, you just didn’t have the heart to tell him that someone had already beat him to it.

So you had resolved to keep it to yourself. He just didn’t have to know, and you decided that was for the best. It tore you up inside to keep something from him, but you told yourself that it would be for his own good, allowing him to focus on his time with his own family instead of on comforting you.

For the next days, you carried the secret around like a weight sitting on your chest, feeling a small pang of grief each time you remembered that you wouldn’t be seeing your family. But you did your best to keep those feeling under wraps, so as not to worry Mason.

It was only 2 days before Christmas, when Mason had decided to stay at yours for the night and you slid under the covers behind him, pressing your chest up against his back ad tangling your bare legs with his. Many months ago, Mason had confessed that he liked to be the little spoon when he was feeling a bit more vulnerable. And after his most recent injury a couple weeks ago, it had become a staple in your nighttime routine with him. You loved the feeling of cuddling up close to his warm skin, and you couldn’t help from pressing a barely-there kiss to the base of his neck, sending a gentle shiver down his spine.

Tucking the blankets in around the two of you, you settled into a comfortable silence, and Mason intertwined his fingers with yours, where your hand was resting on his tummy, giving it an appreciative squeeze.

“Were you able to wrap everything up at work today?” Mason asked softly, knowing you had a few things you needed to get done before taking a few days off for the holidays. You felt a warm feeling in your chest at the fact that, no matter what he was dealing with, Mason always made an effort to ask questions about you—about your day, your work, the friends you had seen recently.

“I was,” you smiled, peppering a couple kisses across his shoulders, overwhelmed with the need to show him a bit of love while you held him in your arms. “Ari helped me get the last of it finished right before I had to leave, so I don’t have to worry about a thing over the break.”

“Good, good,” he breathed, and you could tell he was enjoying the attention you were giving him. “Your parents get in tomorrow, right? Are you excited to see them?”

Your breath hitched in your throat before you could stop it and you froze, trying to come up with a good enough excuse to not talk about the situation.

But you hesitated a moment too long, and Mason caught on easily to the way you’d tensed up behind him.

“Y/N? What is it?” he tried to turn in your grasp as he spoke, but you only held him tighter, pressing your face between his shoulder blades so he couldn’t see the tears that had sprung to your eyes before you had a chance to stop them.

He wriggled in your grasp for a moment, but you knew it was no use, allowing him to pry your arms off his waist so he could turn over and look at you. Your hands flew to your face, covering it as some last-ditch effort to conceal your emotions, but it was far too late, and you knew that.

“Y/N, angel…” You felt Mason’s fingers gently pull at your wrists, and you were left with no choice but to stare back at him with tear-filled eyes. “Talk to me, what’s going on?”

Mason’s brow was furrowed with concern as he reached out to stroke a thumb across your cheek. His mind was reeling, trying to figure out what had you so upset.

“Is it your parents?” You could only manage a nod in return.

“They’re not coming?” Another nod. You watched Mason’s face fall in genuine hurt for you.

“Again?” It was barely a whisper when he said it.

With that single word, it was like the dam had burst, and all of the emotions that you had been holding back for weeks sprung to the surface. You curled yourself into Mason’s chest, no longer able to think about anything other than seeking a bit of comfort in his arms. His hands slipped under your shirt, tracing circles and gentle lines across your skin the way he knew you loved, as he could do nothing else but listen to your soft cries.

It didn’t take long for you to quiet to soft sniffles, and Mason pulled back slightly from you, cradling your jaw in his hand so you’d look up at him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mason did his very best not to sound accusatory, but in his mind, he couldn’t think of any reason why you would have kept this from him.

It took you a moment to respond, still working to calm your breathing. “Well, they... um, they told me about the night before the derby,” you started. “And before the game, I didn’t want to distract you, so I decided to wait. But then, you got injured, which meant you already had so much on your plate, and you seemed so down that I didn’t think I could possibly bring myself to add even more to it, so…”

“So you’ve been carrying this around for the last couple weeks all alone?” Mason finished for you. You shrugged in response. He could only hold you a little bit tighter, heart clenching in his chest at the thought of you being so weighed down by these emotions without him even knowing.

Mason couldn’t help but feel like kicking himself over the way he had been wallowing for the last week or two since his injury. He had been so caught up in himself that he hadn’t even noticed how you were feeling, and it made him appreciate everything you had done for him just that much more. Despite facing your own disappointment, you had put all your energy into cheering him up and making him feel better.

Gone was the feeling of self-pity over his recently poor luck with injuries at the United, and taking its place was the warm feeling of gratitude—for you and the way that you loved him so deeply, so sacrificially.

He pressed a few kisses onto your forehead, the gears in his mind turning as he thought of ways to make you feel better—one in particular stood out as the obvious choice among the rest.

“Tomorrow morning, I’ll help you pack a bag so you can stay at mine for a few days,” Mason stated matter-of-factly. “My family will all be arriving in the evening and they’ll be so happy to see you—Mum and Jazz especially, they were so disappointed when I told them you wouldn’t be spending Christmas morning with us.”

“Mason, I couldn’t,” you retorted, but Mason had expected this resistance from you. “I sprung everything on you so last-minute last year, I can’t—“

“You didn’t spring anything on me last year,” Mason shushed you softly. “I invited you. And better yet this year, you already know just how stubborn I am, so you know this conversation isn’t ending in any way other than you agreeing to go home with me tomorrow.”

Mason’s soft smile was infectious, the sides of your mouth curling upward as he awaited your response.

“You are quite stubborn…” you giggled quietly.

“So is that a yes?”

A beat more of silence passed before you replied with a soft “okay,” and Mason burried his face in your neck, squeezing you tightly in excitement and you couldn’t help but giggle at him, your mood instantly lifted. The hurt and disappointment was still there, but it was significantly dimmed by the knowledge that you would get to be a part of the Mount Christmas for the second year in a row.

Mason finally pulled back after scattering several sloppy kisses across the base of your neck, his eyes sparkling as he propped himself up on an elbow and hovered his face over yours. His eyes darted around your face, a look of unmistakable excitement on his features as he took you in.

“You have no idea how excited I am to spend Christmas with you again,” he whispered, his nose brushing yours.

You cradled his jaw with your hand, your eyes going misty as you thought about how lucky you were to have him in your life, through all of the ups and downs.

“Thank you, Mason.” Your voice was so quiet, if he hadn’t been right up next to you, he might have missed it.

His only reply was to press his mouth to yours, trying to pour all of his love into a single kiss. You pulled him closer by the back of his neck, pressing your body as close to his as you could manage, feel safe in the warmth of him.

After a moment, he pulled away, both of you blushing and breathless—nearly a year together, and every kiss still felt as thrilling as your first.

“C’mon, let’s get some sleep,” he said, pressing one last quick peck to your lips. “We’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”

You nodded, smiling at the thought of the holiday celebrations you had in store; no longer dreading the time spent alone, but excited to get to see all of Mason’s family again.

The two of you settled underneath the duvet, holding each other close. And with the promise of a family-filled few days of Christmas joy, you both got the best night of sleep you’d had in weeks.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The next day passed in an absolute whirlwind of events. The two of you had a bit of a lie in, sleepily discussing your plans for the next few days until long after the sun had risen. Lying in Mason’s arms, tucked warmly under the covers, you felt remarkably more settled than you had the day before. As you lay there with your eyes closed, listening as Mason softly explained that his family would be arriving later that afternoon, you basked in the feeling of his warm skin against yours—your legs tangled together, you chest pressed up against his, and his fingertips trailing lightly over your back.

Before it got too late, the two of you decided it was time to get up, sharing a quick shower together before Mason helped you pack a bag for the next days and the two of you were off to his house, with a brief stop at the store to pick up a couple last-minute necessities.

Late in the afternoon, Mason’s family arrived, and the Christmas Eve celebrations were in full swing. The house was full of life (and noise) as Summer and Mila ran around and Mason’s parents and siblings got their things settled into the guest rooms. A magical trip to Lapland’s made for the perfect evening and left the girls exhausted, so it was fairly easy to put them down once you had all made it home.

Once everyone was in bed, you and Mason got to work setting out all of the presents that had been carefully hidden in Mason’s large closet. Mason watched with admiration as you carefully arranged the gifts and filled everyone’s stockings with the little bits and treats you had picked up over the last few weeks. The care with which you sorted everything left him feeling warm inside, thinking once again how thankful he was to have you with him on Christmas Eve.

And once Mason had finished the glass of milk and taken a large bite out of the cookie the girls had left out for Santa, you and Mason headed up to bed for the night, buzzing with excitement over the next days festivities.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It felt like your eyes had only just slipped closed when you were awoken abruptly by the sound of the bedroom door being flung open and banging into the wall.

“Uncle Masey! Uncle Masey!” a tiny voice shouted, sprinting over to the bed as fast as her little legs would carry her.

As you rolled onto your back, you spotted Summer scrambling up onto the mattress, crashing onto Mason’s chest as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“Uncle Masey, wake up!” Summer shouted again, exasperated. She took hold of one of his arms and shook as hard as she could manage.

“What is it, sweetie?” you feigned confusion, as you tried to get Summer’s attention, giving Mason an extra moment to wake up.

“It’s Santa…” she whispered, eyes wide. “He came. Here.”

“What?” you dropped your mouth open, mimicking her look of surprise. “You’re kidding.”

“He really did! He really did! Come and see!” Summer wriggled off of Mason’s chest, leaping to the carpeted floor and padding out of the room, leaving the door wide open as she went.

You rolled onto your side to face Mason, giggling at his furrowed brow and squinty eyes, clearly wishing he could just sleep for a couple more hours.

“You’ve got to get up,” you beamed at him, splaying a hand across his chest as you leaned forward to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t you hear? Santa’s been.”

Mason’s heart swelled with affection for seemingly the hundredth time in the last few days as you bent forward to press a proper kiss to his lips. For a moment, he got lost in the feel of you, hoping the two of you could spend just a few minutes more together in bed. However you, painfully aware of the open door behind you, pulled back and dropped one last kiss to his forehead. Slipping quietly out of bed, you popped to the bathroom to brush your teeth before you and Mason went downstairs to join the rest of his family.

The silver lining of Mason’s recent injury was that he didn’t have to train on Christmas morning. While most of his United teammates would be reporting for one last session before the Boxing Day matches, he was settling down on the couch next to you, surrounded by his family as Tony began handing out the stockings to everyone.

Much to your surprise, yours was no longer hanging on the mantel empty, as you had left it the night before. Instead, as you took it from Tony, you pulled out a variety of face masks, bath salts, and pleasantly scented soaps. You looked over at Mason, whose face held a satisfied smirk—he must have snuck back down last night after you had gone up and filled your stocking without you knowing.

You whispered a soft “thank you,” tucking your face into his neck as he squeezed you into his side. It meant more to you than he’d ever know that he always went out of his way to make sure you were looked after—even in small ways, like making sure to fill your Christmas stocking.

The morning continued, and Summer had declared that she should be the one handing out gifts this year. So, with a Santa hat atop her head, she ran back and forth between the tree and everyone else, dropping the presents in everyone’s laps before returning to the tree to grab another.

She approached you with a small box in her hands, mumbling a soft, “here you go, Auntie Y/N,” before spinning on her heel and returning to the tree.

You froze in shock for a moment— it was the very first time Summer had ever called you that. You cared deeply for the little girl and her sister, and her clear acceptance of you as a part of the family meant a great deal to you. Mason, sitting with one arm behind you on the couch and on resting on your leg, squeezed your thigh as he saw your eyes go misty at Summer’s words.

You sniffled, trying not to cause a scene by getting too emotional as you carefully tore the wrapping paper off of the small box. Inside, you found a gold necklace with a round pendant engraved with your birth flower and Mason’s intertwined. One the back, the date that the two of you had met was engraved—above it, the words Forever and Always.

“Oh, Mase. You shouldn’t have,” you exclaimed, tucking your head into his neck once again. You could feel his chest shake with laughter as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, holding you close.

“It’s perfect, Mason. I love it. Thank you.” You had pulled back to look at him, and you watched as a warm blush spread across his cheeks.

You spent the rest of the morning with your head on Mason’s shoulder, watching with enthusiasm as everyone opened their presents. You received several other thoughtful presents from Mason and the rest of his family—a tote bag you had mentioned wanting to get from Jazz and her husband, a wax warmer and a few different sweet-smelling wax melts from Tony and Debby, among others.

It really was the perfect morning, spent curled up in Mason’s side, and you felt so full of love for your boy and the family that had made him who he was today.

Eventually, all of the presents had been opened, and Summer and Mila sat on the floor with their new toys spread across the room. Before long, everyone started to make their way into the dining room to eat the breakfast that Debbie had apparently been up cooking before anyone else was even awake.

It was a feast beyond comparison, the table covered in cinnamon rolls, bacon, fried eggs—everything a hearty breakfast could possibly need. And as everyone tucked in, you were sure to tell Debbie how good everything tasted.

Once everyone had finished, you and Mason cleared the table and loaded everything into the dishwasher, deciding to deal with the rest later that afternoon. Lewis was working on setting up their traditional Christmas Day movie, having decided on “It’s a Wonderful Life” over breakfast.

With everything sorted and the leftovers in the fridge, you turned to go join the rest of Mason’s family in the living room when you felt Mason’s hand on your wrist, spinning you around and pulling you into his chest.

Mason’s eyes sparkled as he looked down at you.

“Huh, would you look at that…” Mason spoke with an air of mischief. “Mistletoe.”

For a moment you were struck by confusion, seeing as the two of you were standing in the middle of his kitchen with no real place to hang mistletoe. But your confusion was short-lived as you looked up to see Mason’s hand dangling a sprig of mistletoe above your heads.

A grin broke out on your face as you quirked an eyebrow at him, trying to shoot him an unimpressed look, despite the butterflies that were swarming in your tummy.

“We wouldn’t want to break tradition now, would we?” Mason tried again. “It’s probably bad luck… or something like that…”

By now the two of you were grinning like fools at each other, and you couldn’t believe your luck at having Mason in your life. You slipped a hand onto the back of his head, tangling your fingers into his hair as you brought his face down to yours.

Mason pressed his lips to yours in a delicious kiss as your eyes slipped closed. Mason dipped his tongue cheekily against the seam of your lips, and you pulled back slowly before things could get too heated in the middle of his kitchen.

“I’m so in love with you,” you breathed, nudging his nose with yours.

Mason beamed, eyes sparkling as he looked down at you. “I’m so in love with you,” he repeated your words. “And even though it isn’t how you planned your Christmas to go, I’m glad you’re here today.”

“Thank you, Mason,” you breathed. You must had said it a thousand times over the last couple of days. “For this, for everything. I’m so grateful for you. I love the way you love me.”

Mason pressed his lips to your forehead, holding your body close to his. “You don’t have to thank me, angel. I love getting to love you. It’s as easy as breathing for me.”

Your tummy did a somersault at his words, and you couldn’t help but press one more, quick kiss to his lips.

“You ready to go watch this movie?” Mason asked, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers with his. “You’re not allowed to fall asleep this year.”

You couldn’t stop the giggle that fell from your lips as he pulled you toward the living room, as you spoke. “Now for that, I can’t make any promises.”

tag list: @hischierswhore @thoseboysinblue @lovelynikol7 @swimmingismywholelife @masonsrem @brasiliangp @neverinadream @lizzypotter14 @notsoattractivearenti @chilwellsancho @sid-vii @captainpulisic

[ellecdc]

HELLO!!!

i LOVE ur marauders hockey au! would u be able to write something about medic!reader suddenly gaining some sort of fan traction, and the guys’ (doesn’t matter if u do Sirius, Remus, James or all, i really have no preference) reactions to it??? thank u and have a great day!!

I love the marauders hockey au too! thanks for your request <3

hockey player!Sirius Black x team medic!reader who has some fans [517 words]

CW: fem!reader, swearing, hockey au, flirting

Your stomach dropped when you heard your name being shouted. 

“Go get doc! Yo, Cap! Get doc!”

You nearly shoved Fenwick out of your way as you leaned against the boards; how could someone be hurt already? It was only the pregame warm up. 

“It’s only the pregame warm up…” Remus commented from behind you as though he could read your mind, brows furrowed as he lowered his clipboard to follow your line of sight.

“Doc, we need you over in the corner.” James said as he materialized in front of you, his easy smile doing nothing to lessen the concern churning in your gut.

“What have you fuckers gotten up to that you need me already?” You grumbled as you let him help you out onto the ice, finding your grumpy facade fading slightly at his booming laugh. 

“Trust me, doc, it’s very important.” 

James practically hoisted you up by the waist and skated you towards the boards where Sirius was waving and chatting with some fans. 

“I see no blood nor bones, Potter; why am I over here?”

“There she is!” Sirius cheered as you approached them; his smile contagious even though you were still confused as to why you were being ushered out onto the ice.

And then you read the sign that the fans were holding. 

DOC STITCHES GRYFFINDOR’S HEARTS TOGETHER 

“You’ve got a fan, doc!” Sirius cheered, shooting you a wink that had you turning bashful as cameras flashed and fans cheered. 

“Is this for little old me?” You called through the thick glass around a laugh, the Gryffindor fans cheering and nodding enthusiastically. “You shouldn’t have.”

You accepted a puck and Sharpie from Sirius before scrawling your name across the front of it. You’ve signed an awful lot of documents, prescription slips, and medical files, but you have never signed an autograph before. 

You tossed a few pucks over the boards, cheeks burning from smiling so hard as you tried to make sure everyone who appeared to have shown up ‘for you’ got one. You knew, though, that they probably made the sign for you knowing that your team would love to point it out to you. 

You leaned against the glass and smiled for some selfies, knowing damn well that Gryffindor’s beloved allstars were in the background before the two of them helped you back towards the bench. 

“That was a pretty clever way of getting their favourite player’s attention.” You commented to Sirius, earning you a derisive snort. 

“If they wanted to shove their way down to the boards for Captain James Potter or Sirius Padfoot Black’s attention, they would’ve done so.” Remus chuckled as you made it back to the bench. 

“And they do.” James offered with a theatrical wink. 

“That was all for you, doc.” Sirius murmured, much closer to you than you were expecting him to be and voice falling softer than you ever remembered hearing from the notoriously rough around the edges man. 

“And who can blame them?” He continued, eyes raking over your frame in a salacious once over. “I’m quite the fan myself.”

[madam8]

Should have just made this its own thing and put in a link but fuck it I'm committed now. Hope whoever reads this enjoys. ❤

Also just wanna add I didn't make the header, I downloaded it from another story and don't remember which one. Please tell me in the comments if that's a problem and I'll remove it.

I'm just imagining something similar happening with the Obey Me boys.

Like, imagine.

You're minding your damn business playing the game, maybe say something affectionate towards your fave during the home surprise guest, and you're feeling tired. It is late AF, you always stayed up late talking to your favorite man, but somehow you feel much heavier than usual. So you say your "goodnight" and "I love you" to him (was that a grin you just saw? Was he blushing?) and you shut off the game and go to bed to start dreaming (weird though, you swear you heard his voice just before passing out).

Low and behold, your in your room when you wake. Well, not YOUR room back at home. But you find you're on your room in The House Of Lamentation. Which isn't even real.

HOW THE FUCK?!

You leave that room to wander around and find out what the flying fuck is going on, when you hear one of the brothers call to everyone else that you were awake.

Just like that, they all (save for a few specifics) crowded around you asking how were you feeling? Were you alright? Were you dizzy? Were you nauseous? Were you hungry?

When suddenly Lucifer speaks up telling them all to calm down and not overwhelm you (arms crossed cause of course lol)

They all reluctantly do as told, prioritizing your comfort over anything else at the moment.

You find out that someone seems to have brought you here but no one is fessing up or trying to help you leave. Why would they? They all love you and are fully aware that you adore them as well.

Skip ahead, you've gotten use to living with them and aren't AS against it as you should be. If anything, you prefer your life with them.

Going down the the kitchen for a drink, you overhear your favorite man, the man you love more than ever now after actually getting to spend time with him (I'm imagining Lucifer), telling some of the others to not get too close or cocky cause you. Are. HIS. and his alone. They can humor you, should you decide you wanna spend time with them, but your heart is off limits.

You're not only questioning this in your mind as you listen but you're also a little annoyed with him. Like, you LOVE love him but do you really not get a say?

Well, two can play at this game.

You decided you'll still give him attention and affection as always (it'd be suspicious and down right criminal if you don't), BUT now you're gonna get a little more close and personal to the others too. Specially the ones he seems to see as threats to "your relationship" with him. Just to fuck with him a bit and hopefully teach him not to make such statements without your thoughts on the matter (not that you'd be complaining)

And with that, you quietly stroll back up to your room like you never heard a thing to start planning your strategy to screw with your man who is claiming you before even confessing.

Oh yes, you were were gonna have quite a lot of fun with this. For awhile at least. 😉

Seen the request, so I shall deliver. Could you pls write a drabble or hcs of a yandere sunday with an isekaied reader?

Good timing because I'm actually planning a non yan isekai fic for him, I wonder if you saw that post. Here it is in case you haven't.

Sincerest apologies if this isn't the best, this fic is 100% emotionally charged by my obsession with him and frankly with a little bit of a high for passing a tricky exam. This is a treat for myself.

EDIT: Please check out this wonderful comic that @danijaci made me based off this fic!! 😭🫶

Picking up the cup from the fine oak table, you gazed towards the eerie galaxy before you, hundreds upon thousands of stars giving you a constant reminder of just how far from home you truly were. Taking a sip from the little porcelain cup you could not help but to hum in delight, the soft notes of the tea soothing your nerves ever so lightly as you pretended to ignore the heavy gaze which lingered at the back of your head.

Even from this distance, it was easy to tell that Sunday was eager to approach you. Still, he kept his distance and made a silent offering in the form of the very tea you drank at the moment.

Anything is better than Himeko's coffee but you were never going privy her to that.

In a not so distant past, all of this was nothing but fiction. The Express, the story, the characters - it was all nothing more but fiction, something to pass the time as your days went on and on, the same monotony repeating each and every day.

It was hard to not think about your friends and family, what sane person would not? Lord knows how they must be feeling right now, worried sick out of their minds with indescribable sorrow. In their eyes you had merely vanished, not a single trace to be found. For all they knew you could have been left for dead in a ditch somewhere, beaten, bloodied and broken, never to see the light again or if they were even more inclined to be morbid, you had succumbed to a fate worse than death. Death at the very least grants you finality, that all is over regardless of what happened moments prior.

But that was simply not the case for you.

Here you were, lounging about in a comfortable chair as you pondered on your old life while enjoying tiny little luxuries, far away where none of your loved ones could reach you. However, life was funny sometimes because it had some fun games in store.

Sunday was very kind upon arrival. He made sure to always be there for you, always checking up on you, always there to keep you company. You were already smitten with him but now to actually witness him in the flesh was just... Indescribable. You got along like a house on fire, so much so that the crew liked to tease that you ought to just get a room. Sunday, ever the gentleman, would just brush their words aside and assure you to not take their playful little jabs to heart.

You wouldn't say anything, resorting to merely giving him a smile but not because of what he said but rather of what he did not - never once did he actually shut down those perverse accusations. Never, not even once did he deny them.

He became an emotional crutch, someone to whom you would come running to when things got tough and he would always welcome you with open arms. Sunday would hold you tenderly, his serene voice dripping with honey along with a tender drop of ecstasy, for his excitement with holding you would just show itself sometimes. His grip would be too tight at certain moments, never quite ready to let you leave. His hugs were warm and comforting, he always smelled so good too. He smelled like kindness and sweet wildflowers, always lulling you back to him no matter the time. In dark corners and perhaps even under the watchful eyes of the crew, Sunday would wrap his scarf around your head, securing the soft fabric in order to provide you with a sense of comfort.

It was humiliating just how much you would try to inhale his scent as much as possible. You wanted it etched deep inside your memory, you wished for it to linger on your very soul and for it to follow you everywhere you went, sticking to your being like tar. The fabric of the scarf would muffle your ears a little but someone was always chatting in the background. Be it March bickering with Dan Heng, Mr Yang scolding someone for doing something they were not supposed to, or just Conductor Pom Pom trying to give a speech, all of it was irrelevant.

You were ready to kill whoever would try to pry you away from sweet Sunday. That thought came often which had left you worried - just what kind of person had you become? Regardless, you kept your mouth shut and had no plans of sharing such violent sentiments with anyone, particularly not to the one you held so dear.

When it was time to part for the evening you would bid the crew farewell and wished them a good night. You always made sure to take a few extra seconds with Sunday, just to ease your aching soul. He would tell you to sleep well and would see you in the morning, ready to take on any endeavor that crossed your paths.

As everyone parted ways, Sunday would wander off somewhere dark and distant, somewhere no one could see nor hear him. He would fall to his knees and clutch his chest in agony, fat tears streaming down his face as he did everything he possibly could to steady his raging heart. In a rush he would reach for the scarf which clung around his neck, his grip tighter than iron as he would bring it close to his nose. Taking a large, deep breath, Sunday was greeted by your familiar scent which would promptly calm his poor heart.

He sometimes wondered if his heart would start bleeding from the pain due to the sheer intensity of his emotions.

This was wrong, everything about this was not right and it hurt. Sunday was obviously ill but he had no clue on how to fight this... This emotion, this white hot feeling of need whenever you stood by his side. He started to choke on the air around him and fell into an abrupt coughing fit but even then, he could bring himself to remove the scarf from the lower part of his face.

Sunday wept and sobbed, filthy snot coming out from his nose but he could not handle that now. He needed you, Oh Heavenly Aeons, how he needed you. However was he going to tell you how he felt? How, oh how was he going to express the sheer magnitude of his true thoughts? He would scare you off, he was sure of it.

Even with this pain, even with these clipped wings and bleeding heart, Sunday had never felt so alive, so harrowingly present in the moment whenever he was with you.

Perhaps, he was doing himself a kindness by just letting you be. Drink your tea, be at peace.

He can always just make you another cup if you so desired.

Without knowing, you both haunted each other in the most agonizing way known to mankind and neither was strong enough to face the reality of the situation.

[wlwxreader]

Not a Crush

not my gif

Jackie Taylor x fem!reader

Summary: despite what the entire team thinks, Jackie doesn’t have a crush on you. So why does it make her skin crawl when she sees a guy trying to flirt with you?

Warning(s): jealous!Jackie, possessive!Jackie, oblivious!reader, pre-crash!Jackie, Nat being a little shit, simp!Jackie

Word count: 2.6k

Masterlist: tba

No matter how much the team teased her about it, Jackie Taylor did not have a crush on you.

Did she like your soft smile? Yes. Could she spend days on end listening to a recording of your cheerful and sweet laugh? Why, of course. Did her heart stop whenever you looked at her a second too long? Maybe, but it was only because she thought you were beautiful —in a platonic way.

She did not like you. She didn’t think of you every night before she went to bed. Nope. Not at all. And Nat could shove her own words up her ass, because she sure as hell wasn’t a simp for you.

Yeah, as if.

“Hey,” you waved your hand in the air as you walked towards the field. You had just changed into your football uniform, and looked around. “Is everyone ready for practice?”

“Yeah,” Nat said, stretching her arms. “We were waiting for you for like, I don’t know, ten minutes.”

“You’re the last one. You know what that means,” Van smirked at you, and if it wasn’t for Tai’s presence next to them, you would have walked over to smack them in the face.

“Gotta run for ten minutes around the field,” Lottie said in a singsong voice. You narrowed your eyes at her.

“I’m gonna get you, Matthews,” you threatened with mock anger.

“What’s going on?” Jackie, who had been talking to coach Ben about something, asked. Her smile grew a little bigger when she noticed you within the other team players, and you swear you heard Nat and Shauna giggle to each other.

“Y/N was last,” Nat said. “She has to run for ten minutes.”

“Okay, fine—”

“That won’t be necessary,” Jackie said. Her voice, always soft and bright, was commanding. She wasn’t the Jackie who played around anymore, she was captain Jackie, and everyone in the team knew it.

“What?” Van asked, offended. They looked between the both of you, mouth ajar. “That’s not fair! It’s a tradition you started, Jackie. Last one has in the field during practice has to run while the others train. Y/N was the last one today.”

“Enough, Palmer,” Jackie gave them a stern look. “Y/N was late because of me.”

You gave her a surprised look, taken aback by her lie. You should not have been bewildered, though— Jackie always had your back no matter what, using her easy charm to cover up for your slip-ups

“Making out before practice?” Nat asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Jackie’s cheeks turned a bright red color, but she didn’t dare to look at you. Instead, she clapped her hands together a few times, and everyone around sobered up.

“Divide yourself into two teams,” Jackie raised her voice. “Whoever team wins, gets to rest while the others run a lap.”

Everyone groaned, looking around to start to form the groups, trying to be as equitative as possible.

“Shauna, you’re captain of team green. Team blue is my team,” Jackie called, and the brown eyed woman nodded, wasting no time to craft the perfect team in her mind as she looked at everyone in the field.

“Okay, cool—”

“Y/N,” Jackie interrupted her best friend. “You’re on my team.”

“And in her heart,” whispered Nat.

Thankfully, neither Jackie nor you hear it.

If Jackie did not like you, she obviously also didn’t feel any ownership over you. She wasn’t jealous, she wasn’t possessive; there was no point in being those things, as you were both just two good friends.

But sometimes, someone would walk up to you and Jackie forgot her inner mantra, throwing it out the window of her mind. The person would smirk and lean in close, feigning they could not hear what you were saying, and Jackie would feel something dark and uncomfortable burning inside of her.

Sure, you weren’t hers, but that didn’t mean anyone had the right to talk to you, so obviously trying to flirt it was painful to observe.

They didn’t have the right because— because— well, because she said so.

“Hey, Y/N,” Jackie said, walking up to your locker. 

Her voice was high-pitched, and you turned to look at her. Anyone else would have thought nothing of her tone, but you knew her; it was the same voice she used when she wanted to be rude but knew she couldn’t.

“Hi, Jackie,” you said, completely forgetting about the man who was talking to you about the chemistry test you both had next week.

Jackie walked with purpose, and she stood in front of you. She wrapped her arm around your shoulders, pulling you into her body. You sighed in relief; it was starting to get cold, and her warmth was welcomed.

The woman smiled when you rested your head on her shoulder, and big green eyes twinkling as she started the man down.

“What were you talking about?” she asked, even though she wasn’t interested in the least. She knew how men were— she suffered their unwanted advances on the daily. It was all an act to get you on their bed.

“Oh,” the man said, clearing his throat. “We were discussing the next chemistry exam—”

“Well, I hope you study hard. Bye.”

You barely had time to close your locker before Jackie was pulling you away from that man.

“Hey— Jackie,” you complained, pulling your books closer to your chest. “What was that for?”

“That boy is a womanizer,” Jackie said through gritted teeth. “He just wanted to get in your panties.”

“You think?” you asked, turning slightly to look at the boy, who was leaning against your locker and staring at you. When he saw you looking back, he smirked and waved. “I think he just wants help studying.”

“You’re too naïve,” the blonde said. “He has tried that same trick with half the school.”

“Really?” you whispered conspicuously. “I thought he was just being friendly.”

Jackie shook her head, leaning in to kiss the side of your head. Her arm was still around you, and it made you walk awkwardly. You still didn’t complain.

“Boys are never friendly just because, Y/N,” she said. “They only got one thing on their mind.”

“Kissing?” you raised an eyebrow at her.

Jackie’s laugh could be heard all around the halls, a melodic sound that carried you out of the building.

“Every year it gets colder earlier,” you complained, shivering slightly.

“Are you cold?” Jackie asked, finally pulling away. You almost moaned in complain at the lack of warmth on your side, but before you could voice your discomfort, a weight was placed on your shoulders.

You looked to your side to see Jackie’s team letterman jacket resting over you. You smiled, putting your books in one hand to put the sleeve on.

“Thank you,” you said, with genuine gratitude. Jackie shook her head, simply reaching over to grab your books so you fully put on the jacket.

“Wanna hang out in the field?” she asked. Once you had the jacket on, she wrapped her arm around your shoulders again, because she wanted to but most importantly, because she could.

“The one time we don’t have to train, and you still wanna go over there,” you rolled your eyes, but followed her steps when she changed course.

She laughed again, turning to look at you. With bright big eyes, and lips pulled into a tight smile, you thought no one would ever be as pretty as she was.

As you walked, Jackie peaked behind you and saw the same man, looking over with frowned eyes. As she heard you talking about your day, she raised her arm enough for everyone to see the back of your jacket, where Taylor stood proudly over her team number.

She’s wearing my jacket, not yours. Dipshit.

To say she was ecstatic at his scolf was an understatement.

Yeah, she thought, let everyone know she only wears my number. Let everyone know she’s mine.

That time, she didn’t try to correct herself.

“I think Jackie has a crush on me.”

Van, who was tying up their cleats, stopped suddenly.

“Uh?” they asked, blinking a few times.

“I—” you cleared your throat, your cheeks suddenly turning red. “I think she might like like me.”

“Oh, shit,” Van said, rubbing their face.

“Did— did I say something wrong?”

“Yes!” Van let go of the laces, irritated. “You weren’t supposed to find out until November. You just lost me ten bucks!” they groaned. “Thanks, buddy.”

“What?” you gave them a puzzling look. “Wait— you have bet on me?”

“No,” Van waved their hands around. “Not on you. On your inability to see what’s happening right in front of your face, to be exact.”

“Okay, rude,” you said. “I’m not that oblivious.”

“Oh, no. Of course not,” Van said. Their tone was laced with sarcasm. “You joined the team two years ago, and only now you have realized.”

“Wait, she has liked me for two years?” you asked in a whisper.

“Duh,” Van gave you a long look. “Jesus, you’re a lost cause.”

“Screw you.”

“What made you realize?” Van asked, with genuine curiosity. They put their feet back down on the ground, leaning over the bench to look at you.

“She, um—” you looked around, making sure no one else was in the changing room. Feeling guilty over spilling such deep secrets, you moved over and sat down next to Van, so no one else would hear. “She kind of lied, the other day. So I wouldn’t have to run around the field.”

“She always lies,” Van scoffed.

“Jackie never lies,” you said, firmly. You gave the redhead a look, one that would have been threatening if it wasn’t coming from you. “She’s an honest person.”

Van chuckled. “She will lie to save your ass,” they said. “Because she’s the fattest crush on you.”

“Fuck,” you whispered.

After practice a week later, instead of going back to the changing room with the rest of the team, you grabbed Jackie and pulled at her hand, forcing her to move toward the bleachers. She went willingly, allowing you to take her wherever it was that you wanted her to be.

She would walk through fire if it meant holding your hand.

In a platonic way, of course.

“Jackie,” you said in a serious tone. You took a deep breath, and stared into big green eyes who looked back with passion. “We need to talk.”

She frowned her eyebrows, quickly picking up on your mood swing. “What’s wrong?” she asked, moving closer.

Jackie’s hand rested on your waist when she saw you starting to pull away. She hated it; hated whenever there was distance between the two of you. She wanted you close to her always, holding your hand and laughing with you.

“I think— I think you might be interested in someone.”

Jackie gave you a puzzling look. Her, being into someone? Not a chance.

“What are you talking about, Y/N?” She asked, as confused as she has ever been.

“Don’t make me say it, please,” you moaned, like a petulant toddler. “This is embarrassing.”

“Well, I can’t read your mind, can I?”

You looked away from her, incapable of looking into her eyes as you spoke.

“I think I might like someone, too.”

Jackie froze at your words. Her jaw dropped, eyes open so wide it looked like they might jump out of their sockets.

“You…” she gave a bewildered look. “You like someone?”

You nodded, and her hand tightened on your waist, as if she needed some support to keep her from falling over.

“This can’t be happening,” she whispered, closing her eyes. You gave her a concerned look.

“Jackie—”

“Is it that boy from the locker? The one who kept trying to flirt with you?”

“No. It’s…” you cleared your throat. “It’s not a boy.”

“Oh, no,” Jackie blinked away the white spots that were starting to form on her vision. “Nat? Tai? Or—” she gasped, looking at you accusingly. “Don’t tell me it’s Shauna.”

“Why would it be— No! It’s not Shauna.”

“It’s not?” she gave you a look. “Thank god.”

“It’s you,” you whispered.

“Me?” Jackie asked, trying to make sure she had heard you properly. “You like me. Me.”

“Yeah. I like you, Jackie.”

She leaned in close to you, looking at your lips. You closed your eyes, preparing yourself for her kiss. Instead, you felt her weight over you, literally on you.

“Jackie? Oh my god!”

Safe to say, it took the Yellowjackets over a month to get over the little spectacle you and coach Ben had pulled off when Jackie fainted.

You had wanted to keep it a secret, of course— Class Queen and captain of the football team, fainting because a girl had confessed their feelings to her? The rumor would be too juicy. But you also couldn’t control yourself when Jackie fell on top of you, eyes closed and mouth open, and it took you approximately ten seconds to take all the information in before you were screaming for help.

The help came in the form of Ben, who had come over running. He frantically looked at the team captain, laying on the grass as you fanned her with your hand, and he ran back inside to get Bill’s help.

It didn’t take long for the girls to come out of the changing room, and soon enough they pulled the pieces together; your conversation with Van they had told the entire team (which had led to Tai waving around fifteen ten dollar bills around the showers), your nervous attitude over practice, the tension they had felt before they left the two of you alone…

“Holy shit,” Nat said, smirking as you tried to wake Jackie up. “She fainted. She actually fainted.”

The story soon spread, faster and more explosive than gunpowder around fire. Soon enough, Jackie Taylor’s untaintable reputation got washed away by the new knowledge that she was a hopeless romantic.

Two months later, people would still whisper about Jackie whenever she walked down the corridors of Wiskayok High School.

“You think you will still be Class Queen after… what happened?” you asked, taking notice of how many students were staring at the two of you.

“Of course,” she smiled that charming smile you loved so much. “I’m Jackie Taylor, baby. This highschool would be nothing without me.”

“You’re too full of it,” you rolled your eyes.

She wrapped her arm around your waist, pulling you in close to her. She kissed your cheek, smiling.

“It doesn’t bother you?” you asked once you reached your locker. “Y’know, everyone still talking about it?”

“Let them talk. They aren’t mean, anyways,” Jackie said, raising her shoulders. You gave her a look; she would never notice just how many people thought ill of her. She thought too kindly of the world, but that made it two of you. “As long as it makes them talk about how you’re my girlfriend, I don’t care.”

You put the books you no longer needed back into your locker, and once you closed it, she pressed you against it.

When her lips pressed against yours, you stopped worrying about the whispers and the teasing from the team; Jackie was right.

Let them talk.

[pintrestgrl]

hihi it's me again, i feel super hyper rn , but bsf!jj has been stuck in my head!!! specifically bsf!jj & innocent!reader , it starts off as a innocent little hangout at the chateau and ends with a head full of blonde hair in-between readers legs .... reader vents about feeling starved-touch since the last time jj had played with her (story for another time) and jj, being the best friend he is obviously takes action!! after all isn't that what bsfs are for !

- 🩰

BSF! JJ ‘ND INNOCENT!READER

you missed your bestfriend. that’s all this was. simply, a quick hang out to ease the boredom. however, there was a few pushed away thoughts in the back of your head.

ones that consisted of missing jj for other reasons too, like physical ones. you remembered everything from that one night, the night where you two shared a few hundred kisses, and he had touched you in a way that left you wanting more.

you had never done that with anyone else. never done that at all, before that night. never gave up your body like that, been seen so vulnerable infront of someone. and nobody ever made you feel the way jj did that night.

that’s how you found yourself at the chateau, sat on the couch with him. john b and sarah were out at the beach, pope studying and kie grounded. it was just you two. you first started to watch a random movie he found, before you grew bored.

you didn’t wanna be doing that— you wanted him showing you the same amount of touch he did that night. you slowly began to gain the courage, speaking. “jay, i don’t wanna watch this.” he raised his brows, looking over at you. “you told me to pick whatever. what do you wanna watch then?”

you rolled your eyes. it was beginning to annoy you how stupid he was being. how you could feel your panties sticking to you. “i don’t wanna watch anything. i just—“ you paused, unsure of what to say next. you didn’t wanna seem weird.

jj had brushed past that night like it didn’t matter. you two never brought it up again, therefore it shouldn’t have mattered or affected you this much. but it did, whether you chose to acknowledge it or not. he noticed your nervousness. “what? spit it out, kid.”

you had enough of whatever game this was. you just wanted him close to you again. you began to speak, rambling. “i just— i can’t stop thinking about that one stupid night and what we did— i haven’t even been touched like that since then and i don’t know what to do and—“

he interrupted you, speaking. “you coulda just said that shit. didn’t really need to throw a whole fit about it.” you sighed with annoyance, getting frustrated. “really? that’s all you have to say?” he laughed, remarking right back. “i can show you better then tell you.” you furrowed your brows, confused.

he slowly began to change his position, laying on his stomach in front of your body. you began to get nervous, body tensing. he slowly kissed right below the hem of your denim shorts, the kisses leaving wet marks. he sat up, pressing another wet kiss on your lips this time.

you returned it, feeling his hand subtly creep up to unbutton your shorts. he shimmied them down your body, still continuing the sloppy kiss. he ran a finger through your panty clad folds, feeling the wetness coat his finger.

he slowly pulled away, laying back down. he was eye level with your cunt, and it made you feel embarrassed. but the feeling slowly went away, realizing this was your bestfriend. the same kid who had seen you in all phases of your life, awkward and not.

you eased up, watching as he slid the panties down your legs next. he licked a long stripe up to your clit, attaching his lips around the bud. he sucked, moving your thighs to lay on his shoulders as he held your thighs open. you whimpered, he had never done this to you before.

the farthest you went with him was fingering. this was different. it made you want him all the more. he dragged his tongue back down, sloppily pushing his tongue inside your pussy. he drew out a moan from you, your hands going to the blonde boys hair.

he continued his motions, hands holding your hips down as you writhed under him. you were getting close. you recognized the feeling from the last time with him. “mmph— jay, oh my god,” he chuckled into your folds, the vibrations putting you over the edge.

you came, his mouth once again attaching to your clit to ride you through it. you moaned, the feelings beginning to feel too much. you pushed his head away, as he laughed and sat up. he wiped his mouth. “you feel better now?” he said, grinning.

truth is, it did. seriously. you nodded your head, as he slid your panties back on. he sat back against the couch with a sigh, his hands going behind his head.

it went silent for a minute, before he spoke. “next time you need that, just tell me. don’t make it all weird ‘nd shit.” you nodded, his words registering in your mind. that plan sounded better, to you.

you didn’t wanna play a game like that again.

[tldrthor]

classic enemies to lovers stuff | steve rogers

Summary: The Captain has a scathing outburst that puts their already rocky relationship six feet under for good. He reaps the consequences when she gets hurt while looking out for him.

Part 1 // She was watching my back, and I wasn't watching hers. // word count: 3k

enjoyed? please like/reblog! you can find my masterlist here <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I am sick and tired of you endangering yourself and others, (y/l/n)!” The shouting started from behind the frosted panes of the meeting room. Tony, sitting on one of the benches outside, wondered if he had considered that the meeting room wouldn’t be soundproofed enough to stop people hearing sensitive information, or, if you were Steve and (y/n), insanely loud arguments nearly every day. It seemed like a design flaw.

“You were the one who made the wrong call! They weren’t on the left wing, they were on the right, who knows what could’ve happened if I hadn’t followed my instincts?!”

“It doesn’t matter, you flung yourself headfirst into danger, and disobeyed a direct order.”

“I’m not your soldier, Rogers. And I told you exactly what was happening, you just didn’t listen!”

Natasha banged the back of her head repeatedly on the wall she leant on. “How long do we reckon this ones going to take? I need a shower.” She sighed, sniffing at her armpits and wincing a little at the result. 

Tony looked at his watch, responding: “If I am correct in my estimation (y/n) will storm out right around …” The door to the meeting room burst open, and out barrelled a seething Agent (y/l/n). “Now.” Tony concluded, as the others laughed at his uncanny ability to predict how a Rogers-(y/l/n) fight went. He waved his hand and lowered his head in a fake bow.

“Do you think they’ll ever get along?” Young, innocent, naïve Peter asked. He had previously been fast asleep sitting upright in the uncomfortable waiting chairs. The sound of the door hitting the plasterboard on the wall had startled him awake.

Sam chuckled. “Kid, those two have been at each other’s throats since you were in middle school. It’s just what they do.”

Peter seemed to accept that answer, nodding slowly before covering a yawn with his hand. “That's classic enemies to lovers stuff.” He was nearly asleep again by the time the others had processed his statement enough to question what it meant.

The door opened again. “Come on, let’s debrief.” Cap pulled an anxious hand through his hair, clearly in turmoil. The Captain looked exhausted, his eyes nearly bloodshot. The bags under his eyes were some of the worst Tony had ever seen, and that was saying something. When his eyes landed on Peter, he shook his head, “Pete, head to bed. You’re beat.”

Peter nodded again, but fell asleep in the exact same position, approximately 0.3 seconds after the door closed behind the other Avengers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Good morning." (Y/n) muttered, walking into the briefing room with a coffee in hand. It wasn’t like her to be late, especially not with coffee. Tony realised that lately, she had been more and more demoralised after every mission. Especially after every argument with Cap. He was worried there was more going on with her than they knew. 

Nevertheless, he couldn’t resist a dig.

"Don't you hate it when someone turns up late to a meeting with Starbucks in hand?" Tony tilted his head and spoke with sarcasm coating nearly every word.

"Bite me, tin man." She joked with her mentor. It wasn’t her usual chipper humour, but rather much more subdued, more pointed. She looked more tired than usual as well, Tony noted. But he had a meeting to present, and an interview in an hour, so there wasn’t much time to mull it over.

Steve didn’t pick up on anything strange, blinded by his annoyance. He shook his head silently in the corner, jaw tensed, eyes sending daggers into her with every step she took.

"Young lady, you are in a terrible mood this morning. And, I'm about to make it worse." Tony flashed her a charming but sarcastic smile. "We've got a code red recon mission over in Europe, and only you and our dear fearless leader are available to man it."

Her face immediately fell, but she wasn't the first to find her voice.

"Nope. There's no way." Steve responded to the news. She sent him a foul look at his rude outburst, before chiming in with her own.

"Rude, Rogers. But agreed, you send us on that mission, one of us is coming back in a body bag." And it won't be me. She thought.

He wouldn't meet her eyes, his tense posture maintaining an intense gaze on Tony. His arms, crossed, shoulders raised nearly to his ears.

Tony rolled his eyes at their reactions. "You guys need to stop your middle school bullshit. We're the Avengers, and at the end of the day, we've got each other's backs."

She decided to bite her tongue, opting for a vicious look towards Tony instead. Sure, it would be awful, but she wouldn’t mind a chance to prove to Steve that she was a valuable member of the team, and shove it in his face that he was wrong about her. 

She looked towards him, expecting him to have a similar disposition. Mr. Upstanding, the moral preacher. To her shock, he didn’t. And god, was he vocal about it.

“No, she’s a goddamn liability.” He turned to her with a withering, disdainful look. “She messes up every mission, and I’ve had enough. I’m not putting a code red in her hands, she doesn’t have the skills for it.” He immediately turned to face her, expecting her to fire back with the same passion.

He didn’t expect her neutral, almost – almost – hurt expression. She pressed her lips into a straight line, and his heart dropped when he thought maybe there were tears in her eyes. For just a second.

He might have gone too far. He didn’t think he would ever miss her rebuttals, her constant nitpicking, her endless talking back. But at this moment, he knew he would have preferred it. 

She looked away from him, and back to Tony, who watched the outburst with an open mouth. It wasn’t very often he was rendered speechless, but it took a solid ten seconds for him to clear his throat, pick his jaw up off the floor and continue.

“Unfortunately, there is no other choice, um, so hopefully that will go smoothly. You will leave at 8am sharp tomorrow. Uh … onto other business…”

(Y/n) drowned the rest of Tony’s briefing out as she replayed the Captain’s outburst over and over again. Liability. Messes up every mission. Doesn’t have the skills. It was all of her worst fears come true, packaged up neatly coming from the mouth of someone she had always secretly admired. Not that she would ever tell him that.

She wasn't sure why, but his words had cut her to the core.

An excruciating thirty minutes later, Tony concluded his meeting. “Okay, everyone out. Except Cap, we have to talk about logistics for tomorrow.” He watched with eagle eyes as (y/n) ran out of the room, lowering her face and ignoring anyone who sent pitying looks her way.

He turned to the Captain, who covered a bright red face with his hands.

“Now what the hell was that?” He asked.

Cap groaned, “I messed up.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

8am. Sharp. She took a deep breath as she left her room, locking the door behind her. Her pack wasn’t too heavy, considering they were only supposed to be gone for a couple of nights max. Her chest felt tight, walking to the aircraft hangar, a pit of dread growing and growing with every step.

Before she met the hangar, she passed by Tony’s office. It was one of Tony’s off days, so she knew he wouldn’t be in. She slipped an envelope under the door, hoping he would only see it once she was long gone.

“See ya later.” She whispered to no-one.

Trudging to what felt like the executioner’s block, she was dismayed to see Steve already fully ready and waiting for her. She braced herself for the lecture, for the ‘we said leave at 8am, not arrive.’ But it didn’t come. 

“Good morning.” He spoke cordially, almost upbeat. Making up for something.

She could only manage a polite smile in return. He frowned at the lack of response, but she didn’t see it. 

“All systems ready to go.” She said, once she had got a seat and checked all her listed items. Steve nodded, and made a call through the radio to air control. “Alpha base control, this is Eagle and Wunderkind, ready to take off.” She hated hearing him say her nickname from Tony, which had become her official callsign for all base activities. 

Through the headset, she heard the confirmation from ATC, and watched as the Captain piloted the quinjet up and away from the base. God, it was going to be a long trip. 

As soon as she could, she took off her harness and retreated back to the seats further away from him. She heard the gentle click and mechanical thrum of the auto-pilot being put on, and the movement of the leather seats as Steve moved away from the cockpit.

She felt his presence over her as she tried to focus on her kindle. She had been reading and re-reading the same page, over and over, desperately trying to take in the words. But it was futile. 

“(y/n).” He sighed, knowing that she was purposefully ignoring him. “I want to apologise for my outburst at the meeting yesterday.”

She shrugged. He desperately searched for some kind of anger, some kind of white-hot hurt that she would respond with. It was what he deserved, after he had embarrassed her and doubted her in front of the whole team. 

“You told me how you really feel. It’s okay.” She still didn’t look at him.

“That’s not –” He huffed. “That’s not what I think. I was out of line.” It seemed that the words he wanted eluded him. What do you say to someone after you’ve put out their spark? How do you ‘fix’ a quenched fire?

“It’s fine, Captain. Honestly.” 

Rogers sighed and understood that he was being subtly asked to leave. He understood, really. But there was something about her dejected manner, her slumping posture and her big, sad eyes that made him feel like more of a villain than he already did. Like he had kicked a puppy, or stolen candy from a baby or…

Completely humiliated one of the newest Avengers in front of the whole team.

“I’m sorry.” He managed to stutter out, before turning and leaving to fiddle with some of the controls on the quinjet’s interface. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the six hours were long. Painfully, achingly long. The tension in the atmosphere was only marginally cut by the quiet hum of the engine and the tap, tap, tap of the Captain getting some work done. The captain spent a longer time staring at his comrade than he would ever admit, watching as she frowned at her book. She turned one page approximately every five minutes, her eyes continually moving from the top to the bottom of the same page, over and over again. Her frustrated sighing the only sign of emotion coming from her.

He took a deep breath, trying to remove the suffocating guilt from his chest.

Standing, he waved a hand in her line of sight, interrupting her ‘reading’ session. She slid her headphones off, looking up at him expectantly. “We’re going down.” He spoke. “Thought you would like to get ready.”

The problem with recon missions was that a quinjet was a dead giveaway. So, they had to take their large, heavy packs, and camp out in the forest surrounding the castle. Why was it always a castle?

The hike was hard. The frost on the path made it difficult to get a proper grip on the near-vertical slope, and she realised quickly she had forgotten her gloves. The frost nipped at her hands, growing more painful with her step. She cursed Tony for sending them here in the dead of winter.

She threw her pack up a ledge, scrambling up behind it. While scrambling up the side, she made the mistake of grabbing on to a bundle of brambles. She hissed and retracted her hand, a line of crimson appearing straight across her palm, a precious droplet splashing down onto the snow. 

“You good?” Steve turned to watch her as she folded and unfolded her palm. He reached a hand out to help her up, his eyes focusing on the blood drip, drip, dripping.

She wiped the wound on her trousers, and took his offered hand with her opposite one. “I’m good.” She seemed agitated, nervous. “Do you feel like something’s not right?”

When she said it out loud, just for a second, his heart rate raised. He had convinced himself through his inner dialogue that he was just being overly cautious, but as she said it, he realised that she was right. If there was one thing Steve had learned, a true philosophy of his, it was that one Avenger’s intuition can be wrong. But two Avenger’s instincts are always correct. The unique blend of pattern recognition and situational awareness made the Avengers the closest thing on earth to fortune tellers. Or, so he believed.

“I agree. Let’s hunker down for a minute.” They settled in some of the brush, making themselves as invisible as possible. She was thankful to have a rest, she couldn’t lie. The tossing and turning all night, and every night for weeks, had truly taken its toll.

“Do you think it's bad intel, or a set-up?” She asked, her heart beginning to race at the sight of Steve becoming more and more stressed. She realised that the forest was absolutely silent. No wind, no birds, nothing. She hated it.

He took a second to respond, “I’m not sure. I don’t think we should keep going.”

“What? Then we’ve come all this way for nothing?” 

“I would rather us have come for nothing than die for nothing.” He spoke, trying desperately to manage his tone. How did this girl have such a way of getting under his skin?

She scowled. “Aye, aye, Captain.” A sarcastic salute followed.

With a futile deep breath, he snapped. He rolled his head in disbelief, incredulous that she would choose now to be obstinate. “Are you serious, (y/l/n)? You want to walk straight into something we have no idea about?” He gesticulated, hands flying wildly through the air. 

Both of them were too annoyed to realise that they were on a recon mission while quite loudly arguing in a forest. The Captain, blood boiling, didn’t hear the snap of a distant twig.

“I didn’t even say anything, Rogers! Don’t pretend like you care about my opinion anyway.” She scoffed. “Let’s just fucking go back.” She grabbed her pack, hauling it onto her back, standing from their spot in the brush.

“Shit!” She exclaimed as a bullet past her ear by less than an inch, the sound startling her down. The Captain instantaneously jumped over her, pulling her into him and covering them both with the shield. 

For the record, he smelt like cedarwood and rosemary.

“Came from the East.” He smouldered into the distance. If she hadn’t been so focused, she would have scoffed. He turned to her, his mouth mere centimetres from her ear, his warm whispers tickling her neck. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, no. Aside from the goosebumps, she had luckily been missed. The eye contact he made had something behind it… something she didn’t recognise. Something she had never noticed before.

The moment was shattered by more gunfire.

So, they did the avenging thing. He covered her, she shot as much as she could. Bullets sprayed in every direction, missing them both by the narrowest margins possible. They battled on and on, seemingly endless waves of agents appearing as soon as they thought they were almost through with it.

That’s when she saw it. The bullet heading straight for him. 

“Steve!” She screamed. She didn’t know why she called him by his first name. They weren’t friends. Hell, soon, they wouldn’t even be colleagues. 

He snapped to attention, spinning quickly to ricochet the bullet off of his shield. The bullet was so close to hitting him, he realised she had potentially just saved him from dying in the snow, 5,000 miles from home.

He looked to her to thank her and it all happened in slow motion. She screamed, a shrill, ear-splitting scream that turned his stomach. “No!” He shouted, still fighting through the hordes, sprinting to where the snow turned maroon.

His thrown shield thudded through the undergrowth, distant shouts of soldiers nearly split in half by the metallic disc. He grabbed the gun that had fallen from her hands, unleashing the last of its bullets on those who still dared to try him.

And the forest fell silent.

“(Y/n)!” He looked at her, her usually rosy face growing greater pallor by the second, her chest moving ever-so-slightly, and with growing effort. The black stain on her suit grew larger, and larger, and larger. Any and all medical training he had escaped him, as he realised that now, this moment, was where his regrets were fated to culminate. This was his punishment, his comeuppance.

He didn’t hate her. As he watched this hollow form of her, he realised he would give his own life to bring her back. He would bargain with anything and everything he could for this to be a nightmare that he would wake up from. He would fight with everything he had left to give to her.

Grabbing his pack from behind him, he tipped out its entire contents. 

God, what had he learned on those courses? What was going to kill her first?

“(Y/n), if you can hear me, this is going to hurt. I don’t… I don’t have anything to stop the pain. You’re bleeding out.” He spoke into the void, using scissors to remove her outer layer, exposing the wound. He noticed the blood slowly trickle from her mouth and nose, only worsening his anxiety.

It was worse than he thought, in fact, too deep for him to even suture… He used an antiseptic wipe to clean the area, before packing it with cotton swabs. He swore to himself. They had left the quinjet so far away, and he didn’t know if she would make it all the way back to the compound. 

He had to get her out of here. It was cold, and wet, and there could be even more enemy agents on their way there, right now.

“God, you’re going to have to hold on for just a little while longer, (y/l/n).” He whispered to her, picking her up bridal-style and running for the jet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The other avengers weren’t expecting them to be back for a couple of days, so when Sam ran into the room with news that the quinjet was on the way back, they were pleasantly surprised. Each had finished their missions or meetings early it seemed. Which meant that just maybe they would be able to have some time as a team. Something they were in dire need of.

Tony smiled at his friends, but for a change wasn’t chatting. He sipped his coffee, and smoothed his hand over the handwritten note in his pocket. The note that he thought would never come.

Steve's voice over the intercom. “Mayday, mayday. Eagle to Alpha Base Control, we have a critical medical incident on board. Ready the medbay for severe blood loss and potential hypothermia. Wunderkind is compromised. Wheels down in 10.”

A panicked hush fell over the group.

“Okay, code red.” Sam jumped into the procedures they had all been trained on. “Bruce and I will go down to the hangar and help out. The rest of you stay here and we’ll keep you updated.” The four named avengers immediately ran to their stations, as the others tried to busy themselves doing other tasks that could be useful. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The quinjet came into land at a near-dangerous speed. Bruce and Sam burst open the door as the back door of the jet opened and Cap ran out with a limp (y/n) in his arms, jumping over the ramp before it had even reached the ground.

“What happened?” Sam shouted, running in front of the Captain up the stairs to the nearest Medbay, making sure the way was clear. FRIDAY has thankfully opened all doors in advance.  

“Gunshot wound to the chest, severe haemorrhage. I’ve managed to pack it but not stalled the bleeding nearly enough, she needs help now.”

“Have you got vitals?” Bruce ran along, slightly behind them, not quite as fit. 

“She’s still breathing on her own, weakly. Low pulse. Unconscious since the event.” 

As they reached the medical room and Steve laid her down on the surgical table, it hit all of them how severe the situation was.

“Oh my god.” Whispered Sam, as he saw not only the extent of her wounds, but the volume of blood that covered every inch of the Captain. The colour of skin on his hands could not be seen from the crimson staining covering every inch of them, and his once-blue suit looked more like an inky black, even under the fluorescent lighting of the medical ward. 

More than that, the expression on Steve’s face was something he could only recall seeing on him once. When they discovered that Bucky was alive. He was shell-shocked.

“You guys need to clear the room.” Commanded Dr. Cho, scrubbed in and ready to operate. “We’ll keep you updated.”

“We trust you, Doctor.” Bruce spoke, as he realised the others weren’t going to. Both men grabbed Steve’s shoulder, gently directing him back through the double doors. Steve couldn’t tear his eyes away, as Dr. Cho made demands to the other members of her team, beginning surgery immediately.

“Come on, bud. Let’s get you cleaned up.” Sam was trying not to treat him like a ticking time bomb. But he knew that the Captain was going to snap out of his stupor eventually, and the consequences could be disastrous.

Steve’s eyes didn’t move from her lifeless body on that cold, steel table until they were well past the doors. When Sam tried to lead him out of the medical wing in general, his feet stopped just short of the door.

“I can’t, I - I have to wait.” He turned back around. He looked to Sam, almost asking permission. “I can’t leave her.”

It wasn’t lost on Sam that Steve had to have been keeping her alive by himself for at least six hours, over the Atlantic. That’s not only an impressive feat, but a damn near miracle. It was beyond dedication, it was lunacy. And something like that will make a pretty strong bond between people.

There was something deeper at play here. And as the pieces started to click into place, he wondered how he had never seen it before. The reason Cap was so hard on (y/n), and had been since the beginning.

“Okay, okay.” He guided him to a seat, as an unspoken compromise. “Bruce, could you grab a wet towel?” He spoke softly.

Banner nodded, and wandered off to find ways to help Steve be a little more comfortable. When Bruce returned, Sam gently took his bloody friend’s hands and wiped away the crusted blood that stained them.

Cap watched the red as it left his hands. He couldn’t help the sinking feeling that with every smear of dark brown on the towel, she was slipping away. 

Sam’s adrenaline could only abide the silence for so long. “Cap, you gotta talk to me. Are you hurt?”

“She saved me, that’s how she got shot.” He didn’t make eye contact, instead staring towards the doors, behind which she lay on death’s door.

“It’s not your fault.” Steve didn’t have to say anything for Sam to know that’s what’s running through his mind. A hazard of being an Avenger – the unending and relentless guilt.

“It is my fault. She was watching my back, but I wasn’t watching hers. And I had the damn audacity to call her a liability.” He scoffed, bitterly. 

“It’s nobody’s fault, Steve. These things happen, it’s part of the job. She’s going to pull through.” Sam hadn’t even considered the fact that the last proper interaction they had had, was rather… vitriolic in nature. He didn’t dare ask if anything else had happened on the mission. Not for now, at least.

Steve felt like he was being crushed by his own ribs, like his own body was depriving him of oxygen he didn’t deserve. He didn’t dare move, didn’t dare think, except to chastise and punish himself for what he had done.

And not once did he take his eyes off those doors.

[yshoons]

ᶻz﹒─ ͏͏͏͏͏͏IT'S YOU THAT I WANT

SYN ── when you try setting them up with someone else, but it's you that they want; "if not you, then who?", enha x fmr, headcannons, ot7

HEESEUNG (희승)

stunned silence, and then rejection

annoyed and flustered that you just can't seem to figure out his feelings for you

"how'd you feel if i set you up with someone?"

there's a long pause that follows as soon as you state your offer, heeseung blinking at you. however, loud rejection falls from his mouth in a matter of seconds and he frantically scrambles for a reason. any reason.

"aww c'mon heeseung!" you groan, "you never go out with anyone, and one of my friends thinks you're really cute,"

"what about you?" he asks.

"what?"

"i said," he mumbles, "what about you?"

you tilt your head at him, confusion obvious on your face. heeseung flushes red, burying his head into his arms.

"dammit, i'm asking you what you think of me,"

JAY (제이)

has to take a breather

resentment, anger, shame (towards you for being dense)

"what are you playing at yn?"

"nothing!" you exclaim, "someone i know think's you're cute, and you're single so i'm just being the messenger here,"

"that's not what i mean," jay groans, "are you really serious or are you just playing with me?"

"playing with you?" you echo, frowning, "you're confusing me jay," you're only met with a laugh from him, and you watch as he runs his hands through his hair and his jaw tightens.

without warning, he grabs your hand placing it onto his chest.

"do you feel this?" he asks, "don't play with my heart, especially when only you can make it do this,"

JAKE (제이크)

in a daze, and ends up agreeing

ends up sputtering about you the whole entire time

you burst through the door to the cafe, easily finding jake, who's left alone at a table.

"jake!" you exclaim, running towards him, "what happened? ahra suddenly called me, saying she left, and that the date was horrible, and that you were horrible, but i was like how would jake be like-"

jake grabs your arm, cutting you off.

". . .she got sick of me talking,"

"she what?" you ask.

"she got sick of me talking about you the whole time," jake mutters sheepishly. he looks up at you, his flushed cheeks and eyes wide.

"i'll apologize to her later," jake starts.

"but it's you that i want to go on a date with,"

SUNGHOON (성훈)

gets angry that you're so dense

rejects right away

"what?" sunghoon asks, a scalding looking on his face.

"hey what's your problem?" you groan, " i'm just trying to help you out man,"

"man?" he grimaces, "seriously yn?"

"what?" you ask.

"be honest, do you even see me as one?"

"as a man?" you repeat.

sunghoon huffs, stepping closer to you, his eyes intense. you can feel the heat radiating from his body and he's practically on you.

"because i know for sure i see you as a woman,"

SUNOO (선우)

sick and tired of you

this is his final straw, ends up confessing

"i said no already, why do you keep pushing?" sunoo asks, annoyance clear.

"you never do stuff like this sunoo, this is an opportunity!" you exclaim, grabbing his hands, "for me?? please? plus haewon is super nice, you'll totally get along with her"

sunoo scoffs, pulling you in closer to him.

"well i don't want any opportunities unless it's one with you, i like you, not anyone else,"

JUNGWON (정원)

confused as hell

goes quiet because he quite literally is crashing out on the inside

ends up confessing

"jungwon?" you call, "are you listening?"

"huh? sorry what'd you say again?" you sigh, eyeing the boy in front of you. he wasn't one to zone out, and ever since you mentioned the possible date he'd gone silent.

"do you not want to go?" you ask, "it's fine i'll tell her you can't. you want to focus on school anyways right? it's always better to-"

jungwon slams his drink onto the table, coughing.

"i'd much rather focus on us," he says.

"us?" you tilt your head, "what about us?"

"god," jungwon laughs, "i like you got it?"

NI-KI (니키)

"yeah no" + nasty side eye

also ends up confessing to you

"yeah absolutely not,"

"oh come on," you groan, "what is your deal? sunoo told me that you complain about this stuff,"

riki furrows his brows at this, but he quickly realizes what sunoo's trying to do.

"oh my god," riki mutters. he glances at you, your eyes wide and innocent. "you're really really really stupid,"

"seriously what is your problem dude?" you grumble.

"my problem is that you can't seem to see that what i want isn't some other girl, but you,"

© YSHOONS 2024