#the way the just like ruffle each others hair and feel comfortable grabbing at each other

[creamflix]

toji fushiguro x female reader; heavy, heart-crushing angst, not a lot of comfort. reader is toji's second wife, megumi's step-mom. concept inspired by @/yunymphs nsfw fic, off your shoulders — masterlist here ☆

marriage is supposed to be a blessing, a bond that seals two lives into one, a promise of belonging.

you’d always dreamed of it.

sharing every first moment with someone — the first kiss as newlyweds, the first lazy morning dance in the kitchen, the first time lying side by side, tangled in each other. you’d imagined a life full of firsts, a life that would feel like you’re writing a story together, each page a piece of both of you.

but with toji, the man you love and who loves you, it feels like stepping into the middle of a book already written.

he’s had his firsts, some so precious that traces of them linger like shadows in your home. and you try — god, you try — to let that be enough, to love him and his son, megumi, with all the warmth and devotion you can muster. yet some days, you feel like you’re just outside their world, looking in.

it’s in the everyday moments, these small interactions that remind you of everything they had before you came along. moments like this morning, when you’re up early making breakfast, hoping to surprise toji with something special. you’re chopping vegetables, humming softly to yourself, trying to imagine the look on his face when he comes in, maybe pulls you close and says you don’t have to go through the trouble. you’ve seen couples do that — little gestures to remind each other they’re together.

you want that, too.

but as you start to crack an egg into the pan, you hear megumi calling from down the hall. “dad, where are my soccer cleats?”

your heart clenches. before you can even move to help, toji’s already calling back, voice easy, like it’s a scene they’ve played out a hundred times. “try under the stairs, where your mom used to keep ‘em.”

his mom. megumi’s mom.

the woman who came before you, whose shoes you will never be able to fill.

the words hang in the air, chilling. you place the egg down and pause, the silence settling heavy on your shoulders. you don’t hate her, not in the slightest — you’ve only ever heard lovely things about her. if anything, you’re grateful to her for the habits, routines, the sense of belonging she built with them, for raising megumi to be as kind as he is.

but still, there’s a sting every time she’s mentioned, a reminder that no matter how much you love toji, a part of him will always belong to her.

maybe that’s normal, you tell yourself, shaking off the thought. you grab the spatula, focusing on the way the eggs sizzle in the pan, trying to calm the knot that’s forming in your stomach.

“i’m… making breakfast, by the way,” you call out, trying to keep your voice light. maybe this will be the moment toji notices, realizes you’re trying to make him smile in your own way.

“yeah, thanks, babe,” he says from the hall. he’s already moved on, ruffling megumi’s hair as they laugh about something you can’t quite hear.

right, you think, fighting the wave of hurt that sweeps over you.

maybe that’s just the way it is.

you stare down at the breakfast you prepared, feeling a pang of something deeper than you’d care to admit. you’re doing your best to fit in, to add to the life he’s built, but sometimes, it feels like nothing more than an afterthought. it’s silly, really — you know they care about you, know toji chose you because he loves you.

but love doesn’t always erase what came before.

and it’s not his fault that his past is so deeply woven into their present, into your present.

by the time they wander into the kitchen, you’ve already set out the plates, adding a smile to mask the ache twisting inside you. megumi gives you a small nod, a muttered “thanks,” while toji walks over, planting a quick kiss on your cheek. “looks good,” he says with that lazy smirk, and you feel the flutter of warmth, the one that always ignites when he shows even the smallest affection. but it quickly fades as he moves back to his son, launching into an old joke that you don’t understand.

you sit down across from them, feeling the laughter spill around you, each chuckle a reminder of the bond they share. you know it’s unreasonable to feel left out; after all, you’ve only been a part of their lives for a fraction of the time.

and they are good to you. they include you in most things, make an effort to make you feel like part of the family.

but there are these subtle moments, these glances, these familiar gestures, that you can never quite touch.

you watch as toji reaches over, ruffling megumi’s hair, that same fond smile lighting his face. and it’s like watching them dance to a song you can’t hear. a piece of you aches to ask, where do i fit into this?

“you two are adorable,” you say, almost to yourself, hoping they hear the love in your voice despite the sadness resting there.

you can’t say the words that sit heavy in your chest, the longing to belong to them in a way that feels real and whole. instead, you keep your gaze on your plate, focusing on the small bite of eggs you’ve managed to lift to your lips, the only sound in your head the quiet plea that maybe one day, this feeling will pass.

maybe one day, watching them from afar will stop hurting so much.

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[jamandjazz]

There’s something about the casual physical affection the gang displays that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy

[persicipen]

three of cups ノ jiaoqiu . moze

₊ ˙ ⊹ . as one of feixiao’s advisors, you’re involved in the recent military campaign, which takes a toll on everyone’s mood. thankfully, two of your colleagues know exactly what you need to ease the tension at the encampment.

ৎ୭ — · · 2.4k ノ fem reader — petnames — dear . darling one ノ threesome . sprit roasted between two rascals ノ oral . position switching . doggy ノ cumming inside . sloppy messy ノ unspecified polyamorous relationship . flirty bantering between the characters ノ barely edited, so forgive any mistakes :’3

The meeting ends with a murmur of approval and the shuffling of heavy robes. You watch General Feixiao’s hand as it closes over the map, her fingers brushing against the well-worn parchment. The assembled officers bow and file out of the tent, leaving behind the lingering scent of ink and incense.

As you turn to leave, Moze and Jiaoqiu fall into step beside you. Moze’s fuchsia-sharp eyes, framed by greyish features, meet yours briefly before he averts his gaze, his presence like a silent shadow. Jiaoqiu hides behind his scarlet fan, lashes down in a relaxed expression, his lambent hair catching the dim light that filters through the tent’s fabric.

Outside, the afternoon sky is pale, casting a dull glow over the encampment. The air is thick with the promise of rain, a cool breeze ruffling the edges of your cloak. You walk together along the path, the soft sounds of your footsteps blending with the distant clatter of soldiers and the howl of the waves.

“You know, Moze,” the Foxian begins, his voice a note provoking, “I think you’ve spent more time sharpening your knives than actually using them during this campaign.”

The called-out companion’s lips twitch, a rare hint of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. “And I think you’ve spent more time talking than healing.”

Jiaoqiu laughs, a melodious sound that seems to lift the mood. “Ah, but my words can heal as well, can’t they? Or do they simply annoy you?”

Despite their differences, there is a camaraderie between the two men that is undeniable. It’s impossible not to smile at their banter. One with his gloomy demeanour and secretive nature, and the other with his cunning voice and playful spirit — complementing each other in a way that is both surprising and endearing.

As you approach the next tent, a smaller and more secluded one where secrets of the higher-ups are to be discussed, you feel a sense of anticipation. The matters at hand are of the utmost importance, and the trust between the three of you will be crucial. Moze holds the flap of the tent open for you, his neon gaze scanning the surroundings with practiced vigilance. Jiaoqiu follows, his usual whimsical look replaced with seriousness. Inside, there’s an aura of herbs and candles filling the cosy space.

As you settle in, the atmosphere shifts. The light-hearted mockery gives way to a tense silence, and the weight of the dialogue you are about to discuss hangs in the air.

To remain calm is no easy task, a warning getting stuck in your throat, but before you speak up, you’re suddenly grabbed below your armpits with steady hands and brought closer to the Foxian man who has settled comfortably in the corner.

Now, awestruck and stuck between your partners, you just have to stammer out, “What are you doing?”

“Already caught off guard,” Moze smiles under his breath, leaning forward from behind you to nip at your neck, a feather-light kiss on your pulse point. “Ought to be better prepared, dear adjudicator.”

You’re swept away by the ebb and flow of their movements. There’s something feral in the way they’re touching you, starved and on edge from the stressful smell of the gunpowder in the breeze and lack of restful sleep. They seek comfort in the softness of your body, fingers and lips, searching for tenderness as they smooth over your flesh and slide under the fabric.

“Present yourself to us. You’re too pretty to be hiding.” The crow-like man urges you with a whisper into your ear, his voice not rushed, although commanding. A prickle dashes through your nerves and you obey, letting them settle you down on the mattress and have your legs spread open by their persistent arms, working in unison to cage between their statures.

The Foxian man looks at you from under his lashes, his eyes melted honey. He moves closer, hands trailing over your curves, until his face sinks between your thighs, his purrs hot on your skin and fingers nimble in sliding the garments from the way.

Simultaneously, Moze brings his palms higher, groping and fondling your nipples until the uniform blouse unfolds like the petals of a flower in bloom, baring your chest naked. There’s a bruise there, purple and deep, from one of the encounters with the enemy sneaking into the camp a few days before. It will heal, but now it adds to the stimulating sensation, a pain mirroring a pinch of spice added to the meal. Or, at least, that how the military healer would compare this feeling, fascinated by the fragrances and tastes of cuisine.

Jiaoqiu relishes the opportunity to map your body with his lips, his clever tongue pressing flat against your folds. The man behind you makes quick work of your remaining clothes, bunching them in his hands. Even better, he ensures that you cannot escape by pushing you into the Foxian’s face — eagerly licking you up and drinking down all the dew already gathered on your folds, in harmony with the moans that you can’t muffle no matter the tries.

You don’t know how much time has passed when you’re flipped on your back by Moze’s firm grip. It’s hard to keep track of things when the pleasure is making you lightheaded. There are only three of you here, a space to calm from the constant trepidation of conflict and politics — two men hovering over your body and three shadows dancing on the maroon walls of the tent.

The sound of the silver-haired man fumbling with his belt is crystal clear compared to other muffled noises, though, and so is just as striking the sight of his cock, hanging thick and heavy between his legs. Jiaoqiu hums, nuzzling against your inner thigh and drawing a sharp gasp from your lips when he bites down gently.

“Our favourite assistant is ready for you,” he whispers against your skin, directing his approval to his companion. “All wet and soft.”

Your vision swims, then focuses on the uncovered knife, sharp and held so casually in his hand. You watch with bated breath as he plays with the weapon, this time only killing time, not enemies — it’s difficult for him to part from his blade, but otherwise he won’t get to hold you properly.

“You’re so generous, medic,” he mumbles, partially not wanting to give in to Jiaoqiu’s teasing. But the vision of claiming your body is too strong, making him yearn and follow the other man’s suggestion.

They adjust you so that you can watch them comfortably. One places a pillow under your head and neck to keep you at an angle, allowing both of them access to your mouth and pussy. Moze folds your legs over his broad shoulders. Then, after a moment of appreciating your curled silhouette, beaming with excitement and cheek pressed to Jiaoqiu’s flushed shaft, he aligns his own cock with your already slick hole and slowly pushes in, watching as you melt into the touch.

Your body arches into the source of pleasure, following the rhythm of Moze’s thrusts, swallowing and lapping around the other girth with wanton desire, trying your best to satisfy both at the same time. The Foxian’s hands are cupping your head, steadying you in place while he fucks your lips with a sloppy sound as you suckle with each drag inside your throat. The other one hits your sweet spot with calculated movements, pulling out almost fully only to fill you up with his entire length until his hips touch yours.

You don’t know whether your muddled mind is playing tricks on you or if they really look that ravenous for you, with their slitted pupils like stars shimmering in the dark and hands leaving behind burning imprints of desire.

“I’ll get you something for your throat, ah— in the morning,” Jiaoqiu huffs from above, guiding your head in rhythm. “You’re too sweet, I cannot imagine slowing down, you know?”

“Too sweet, indeed. Clenching on me like that, our darling one…” Moze trails off, but the soothing tone of his praise continues to linger over your skin, a sensation that only adds to the feeling of being adored, passed like a reward they think of every evening when it’s impossible to meet together.

When he finally pulls out, you let out a sound that feels broken, whining for more and finding it almost instantly when Moze decides to adjust you so that your pussy is bared even more. Then, he looks up to Jiaoqiu — suddenly assertive and haughty, smirking.

“Care to have our lovely advisor the other way now?”

“Aren’t you the generous one, Moze? Offering the dessert that is just up your alley? But no, not yet, at least.”

You’re spun on your front, knees tucked beneath and ass lifted. Jiaoqiu lies in front of you, on his back with legs spread so that you can settle comfortably between them. There’s a thin string of spit connecting your swollen lips to his wet cockhead. Despite the salacious comments, the colouring of his skin is in shades of pink like blossoming flowers in spring. He holds your head and starts pushing himself inside you slowly, revelling in the sounds of your strangled sobs muffled by the length and your thighs trembling.

The way they speak about you makes you burn even harder. The heat crawls from your fave to your neck and back. You feel drunk on their attention, lightheaded with pleasure, and lost in the feelings of safety and belonging.

With a shift in angle, Moze positions himself behind you and sinks into your dripping hole in one swift motion. The stimulation from both ends overwhelms you instantly. You melt under the touch, allowing them to fuck you as they please.

Jiaoqiu releases your head and allows you to just slump there and take it, muffling your moans into his pelvis as you drool all over his balls, making them wetter and slicker while the tip twitches each time Moze takes you so hard you almost lose balance and collapse on top of the Foxian. He takes advantage of the moment to look over your shoulder at the other man and grin that sly, knowing smile of his.

“You’re so lucky to have a place between our legs,” he murmurs, glancing back down at you with hooded eyes. “No wonder you love it so much. You’re the only one capable of getting our moody counsellor to whimper, hehe…”

“Fuck… C-can’t you just enjoy the moment?” Complains a low voice behind you.

The pleasure is overwhelming, and you can barely keep the high at bay. With breaths ragged, all three of you align your gasps into one, inhales and exhales moving your bodies against each other gently like the waves greeting the sandy beach, drawing you in the ocean delirious.

With a few more thrusts, you finally reach your climax with a wanton sobbing. Thighs trembling as the man inside you stiffens as well, gripping your hips to keep you snugly pressed so he can pump you full of his cum.

The moment you slip into the utmost pleasure, Jiaoqiu takes control, clutching your hips and guiding your exhausted body from his companion’s hold to lay you down. His hands run along your sides, coaxing another quiet moan from your lips, working like little needles on your ribs as your silhouette still ripples with afterglow. A goldfish caught between the claws of a curious fox.

No matter what he says beforehand, there’s always something riling him up about finishing in your overly sensitive cunt, already dripping with someone’s spend. Especially if it’s the Feixiao’s other advisor, too. perhaps he likes the feeling claiming you over, just when you have thought no one else will welcome themselves in the slippery warmth of your insides.

with your legs still quivering, he picks them up so that they rest on his hips. in one smooth motion, he sheathes himself till the base of his cock. you whimper at the sensation of being filled up again, your pussy still aching from the previous orgasm. your whole body feels like it’s on fire — mayhaps the medic’s flame sorcery itself — and every touch sends a jolt of pleasure through your veins.

Jiaoqiu thrusts in slowly at first, drawing out each movement to ensure you feel every inch of him, himself barely conscious to endure a few moments more before releasing too.

He runs his hands along your body, caressing your skin and kissing your neck. Busy murmuring sweet nothings into your ear, telling you how good you feel around him, how beautiful you look like this, all fucked out thanks to Moze — who’s catching his breath right next to you two, glancing with reddened cheeks at the lustful spectacle.

The Foxian man holds onto you for dear life, his hands gripping your thighs tightly and nails digging into your flesh as he nears his own climax. His hips snap against yours in a frantic rhythm, obscenely squelching plap after plap as he pistons through the mixed essences.

You let out a helpless whine when he pushes in particularly deep, hitting an already battered spot that makes you mewl in a high pitch, too overstimulated to bear the thrill. Then, you hear him choke as his whole body shudders, and he comes inside you with a staggered sigh, flooding you with another splash of cum.

For a moment, there’s only the sound of heavy breathing circling the room.

“You’ve done so well, dear,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

He pulls out slowly, careful not to hurt you further, and you whimper at the sudden emptiness. He gives you a soft smile, brushing away the teensy tears from your cheeks. Moze looks at you in awe, gently running his fingers through your hair as he whispers soothing words of praise into your ear.

“Next time I want to be the one who finishes inside you last. If you have me…”

“Yes…” is all you can answer in one exhale.

[citrinae]

holding hands with them.

contents; cloying, tooth-rotting fluff. goes well with coffee to cleanse the palate. there might be one itty-bitty mention of marineford. 🎀 

ft. east blue 5

masterlist

⋆ ˚｡༄ luffy 

the boldest one out there. if he feels like taking you by the hand, he’ll go ahead and do it, no matter the time or place. like everything about him, luffy won’t be any subtle when holding your hand either, swinging it with the widest smile, whistling a merry tune as you head your way. his hands may feel a little sticky from whatever he’s eaten at the time, but there’s also a comforting warmth to them sending butterflies to your stomach. when he holds your hand, he does it tightly, assertively, like he has never ever doubted his decision to let you enter his life.  

sometimes the thought of having a special someone to explore new places with has him so excited that he just grabs you by the wrist, or cups his hand around yours. he will lightly squeeze your palm with his thumb each time he wants to grab your attention to something he knows will make you smile, laugh, or both. at least once he tried to see how far his hand could bend from yours (pretty far, it’s all rubber after all). 

in a dangerous situation, a fight especially, there will be times when he will unconsciously search for your hand, an unsaid promise that he won’t lose. he will also do it as a way to assure himself that you’re still there, and you’re safe, a habit that might have something to do with marineford but he hadn’t realised he picked up until meeting you. he can’t afford to lose you, and feeling your hand into his is the one certainty that he's grown stronger and capable of protecting his dearest ones.

⋆ ˚｡༄ zoro

even before it became clear to you that what you’re having breaks the norms of a friendship, it had been a habit to sunbathe together on the ship's deck. his lids would slowly fall close, tanned skin sliced in the light, hair ruffled by the breeze, and you would watch him fade into a distant universe as sleep took you over. 

you can’t tell if the first time it happened was more than the mere remembrance of a dream, but what’s certain is that soon enough you started to fall asleep to the peaceful sensation of his fingertips reaching yours, closer and closer each time, until one day you woke up to find your hand completely clasped in his. your mouth hitched into a small smile, wondering if this had ever happened before, or it was simply a moment you would forget before happening a second time. even now, you still find yourselves interlocking fingers in your sleep. he also likes to drape an arm over your shoulder, taking hold of your hand as he does, especially before falling asleep together. 

his hands are roughed up and battered from swordfighting; however they feel like velvet as they touch you, at first watchfully and only for a few fleeting seconds, and then with more certainty. he may still show some signs of hesitation when it comes to holding hands in plain sight, but he will gladly accept it if you’re the initiator. your hands will often find each other under tables, on his lap, around a bottle of booze if the two of you are out drinking. 

⋆ ˚｡༄ nami

from time to time she may come up with different excuses for holding your hand. at first, it was when she offered to help you carry your shopping bag, “i left my perfume in there, i can’t afford to lose it because you were careless with the loot.” your fingers touched, and she left them there for a second, the realisation that she could be affectionate with you without feeling vulnerable rushing to her head like a shot of rum.

soon after you would start to notice her fingertips linger on several occasions. passing the sugar, applying sunscreen, asking you to lay out some maps for her. her skin is smooth and laced with the smell of tangerines and coconut milk. extremely well-kept. if she knows you’re reaching a more perilous portion of the sea (which luffy will insist on crossing), nami will take you by the hand, and you will estimate how scared she is by the tightness of her grip. 

definitely a fan of the one-finger hold. whenever the crew is free to take a breather and wander about a new island, nami will cheerfully jump out of the ship and offer you her arm, the space between you remaining roped along the way by nothing more but your tangled pinkies. at the dinner table, your fingers will often stay linked in the same way, a casual, subtle gesture, but a reminder that you will always have each other’s backs. 

⋆ ˚｡༄ usopp

another one to hold your hand if the seas you’re going across are overfilled with monsters, but unlike nami, god usopp will do it to show off his bravery. he’s there to protect you, he goes on and on, and usually this will be accompanied by a story of his earliest travels on the sea. and yet, one questionable sound is all it takes for him to leap into your arms, later excused as his way to tell you that there once was this gruesome pirate lord who almost fell overboard in fear, but luckily he was there to catch them. captain usopp is nothing but a merciful soul.

extremely open and affectionate with his partner. when it comes to holding your hand, he won’t hesitate to do it in front of everyone so they all see he could pull someone as awesome as you. when he’s testing a new weapon, he loves it when you come from behind and place your hands on top of his, guiding each other towards your target. i feel that, with usopp, there will be plenty of moments where your hands will just top each other, during dinner or a party or simply while assisting him in the workshop. 

speaking of which. he works with his hands a lot, so they may catch a certain metallic scent, scarce traces of gunpowder under his nails and into his skin. but each time you end up cuddling under the stars and his hands tangle with yours, you begin to feel even more comforted since getting to notice these little things about him means you couldn’t be any closer. 

⋆ ˚｡༄ sanji

if it isn’t the ultimate sucker for hand-holding. believe it or not, to him this pretty much seals the status of your relationship, so at the very beginning when things were rather uncertain between you, his worst nightmare would have been to initiate such an intimate gesture and be rejected. that was also around the time you started to do grocery shopping together, two forms pushing past the lively crowds, taking the moment to enjoy each other’s company somewhere away from the crew. 

sanji jolted when he felt the back of your hands brushing against each other, and then your forefinger coiling around his own, an open invite that paused the world for him for a couple of seconds. loosening the knot of his tie, he took your hand in his, fingers eagerly interlacing into a most soothing grip. ever since your relationship became established, you’ve come to notice that he often attempts to hold your hand, and each time he finds it, it’s a promise that you will always have his full and irrevocable attention. 

his hands carry the smell of the cigarettes he smokes, combined with that of some herbs he’s used in the kitchen, and seafood at worst times. they are smooth like silk when wrapped around yours, and emanate warmth each time he gently starts to stroke the skin with his thumb. he’d hold hands with you pretty much anywhere, but the times he feels the most relaxed are at the railing of the ship, during a cigarette break, or while walking behind the rest, leaving the impression of a freshly married couple on their honeymoon. 

[anantaru]

— how to make them blush

including dan heng, sampo, jing yuan, blade, gepard, welt, luocha x gn! reader

꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff, blushy boys, very cute

contrary to popular belief, it doesn't require a lot of effort to make your boyfriend dan heng blush radiantly because of something you'd do— for instance, delicately ruffle his soft hair, or easily grabbing his hand while you‘re going on a leisure walk or placing a precious and thoughtful compliment on him so he doesn‘t forget how much you love him. it begins slowly, and dan heng doesn‘t take his eyes from you, yet the very reason you can see it focused, more unimpeded. the casting of soothing red evincing on his person, gently cascading over the outlines of his sharp features like rural waves and there he was, you smile triumphantly at him when you catch it— expressing and doughy, the luminous scarlet color.

in the early stages of your relationship, you never thought that the usual confident and self assured sampo actually had a pretty deep soft spot of being praised and complimented by you. he likes, no, adores, when you compliment the most arbitrary things he'd carry out— whether it was easily cooking you dinner, situating a pure smile on your lips or planning ahead an upcoming date for the both of you. by the stowing means of this, you decide to do it again and tell him how impossible cute he was and how much you valued all the effort he put forth, especially how so very special and ambrosial while your boyfriend will quickly stave his head away from you before you can see it, an exultant blush flickering a powerfully charming redness on his entire face.

a man, specifically a well renowned general, such as jing yuan himself was quite difficult to fluster in a way where he‘d end up blushing and reddening honest warmth. but, evidently, you weren‘t one to give up on such a big challenge, the thought of having the man blushing in front of you was far too delicious to refuse on. so, you massage his scalp, kiss him and show him your brightest smile, yet nothing seem to work for some reason. but then, it‘s different, out of the natural sphere, when after an entire day of trying your hardest to make him show any early signs of redness, you show gradual defeat, eyes heavy and low lidded, drenched in tiredness— to add onto that, jing yuan‘s chest was far too comfortable to get up from. well, little do you realize after a couple of minutes pass, you find yourself deeply slumbering on top of him, and the thought that you feel so safe and shielded by his side, made the sleepy general blush at last.

prior to you, your charming boyfriend blade wasn‘t used to being loved or cared for in his life by anyone at all. to say that this heart warming relationship with you now was a new one, was a clear understatement. be that as it may, you can catch him hide a blush from you quite frequently, especially in the early stages of your togetherness, he for no other reason cannot help himself and get easily emotional at the thought that he has you, you're his, greater reason that you love him just the way he was and accepted each flaw, each scar, without a single care throughout the entire universe. but, one particular motion that will make the man blush instantly, faster and the most distinguished— in its highest duration, was when you cuddled him in midst the night, without saying a word, both quietly tangled under the soft sheets, and you whisper a little "i love you" right against his ear shell.

gepard finds it immensely captivating when you listen to the little, fun stories he tends to tell you all after coming home from his hard work. suddenly, he becomes shy when he notices that he talked far too much and wordlessly fears that he might‘ve bored you to death by some of his seemingly uninteresting stories, or that's how he referred to them. at the same time, when he looks at you up closer and realizes that you were in fact, eagerly listening to each of the words he expelled from his lips, gepard can‘t help himself but shine a glittering red towards your direction— cheeks puckered and flustered scarlet and spreading onto his entire face. "so?" you say, effortlessly snapping him back to the present, "how does the story end?" and your boyfriend suddenly leans into you without warning, to place a subtle peck on your lips, words couldn't possibly describe that feeling.

welt doesn't blush, nope, that's the end, he unelaborately doesn't. the man keeps himself in tact pretty forthcoming and without an issue— besides, he doesn't think it's possible for him to blush in the first place. then there's you, moving your lips slightly to indicate a smile as you slant forward, "your hair." you point out, "let me fix it." and progress your hand into his strands to couple the lousy hair hanging carelessly on his forehead. it's a mess, both the bloody situation and welt who, for some unclear reason, couldn't stomach what just had happened and he quickly pulls his head away— taking off his glasses and act as if he had to clean them, even though he just did that five minutes ago. a keen smirk plays around the edges of your mouth when you realize what was going on, yet you do not speak, don't say anything, but make a mental note to never forget on how to make your usually sophisticated boyfriend the exact opposite.

luocha knows whenever you try to fluster him, beyond everything, he has observant eyes and effortlessly sees through all the teeny tiny schemes you tend to carry out with him. when you become more clingy and coo sweet nothings towards his direction, or when you decide that your boyfriend deserves a couple more kisses than the day before, he can see that you were attempting to play tricks on him and coax out the desired reaction. but what luocha did not see coming was that, as a matter of fact, it was beginning to work, quite powerful as well. conveniently there he was, having you wrapped around his strong arms as you do it again, sneakily kissing from his collarbones to the outline of his sharp jaw, until placing your lips on him at all. he instantly blushes, pulling his hand to the back of your head to keep you into the kiss, so you wouldn't catch him, wouldn't flash him a cheeky smile afterwards too when you'd realize that you managed to make him flustered at the very end.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[harmeu]

HOW DO HSR MEN REACT TO THEIR S/O NOT ACTING LIKE THEIR NORMAL SELF

(GN!Reader)

(Boothill, Dr. Ratio, Sunday)

BOOTHILL:

Something was wrong today and Boothill knew it. You were occasionally picking at your food. More quiet than usual. And didn’t even kiss him goodnight! Do you know how much that hurt the poor guy? He nuzzled into a unicorn stuffy to make himself feel better for goodness sake!

But you had him worried. Really worried.

“Ay, you doing alright?” He murmured, fixing his hat giving you his signature toothy smile.

“Yeah I’m fine.” You mumbled back a reply which was totally bull. You were feeling really shitty for no reason. It was one of those days where everything was boring and dull.

Boothill taking notice of your quietness he picked you up bridal style making you yelp.

“Babe what on earth!” You choked out surprised and he smirked.

“I’m gonna buy you whatever you want okay? I just wanna see your pretty smile back.” He cooed out stroking your hair making you flush in surprise and happiness.

“..Thanks. I’ve just been out of it.” You mumbled out a reply reddening further at his touch which he chuckled at.

“We all have our days. C’mon!” He put you in a more comfortable position in his arms taking you into the city.

DR. RATIO:

Usually Veritas was the grumpy one in the relationship. Always talking about his studies and all the degrees he’d earn during his days at university. Though none of that came into mind when he saw you acting out of it. When he tried to talk to you, you ignored him! Now that hurt his ego a lot. 

And his feelings.

“May I ask why you are acting in such a different manner than usual?” He said with his occasional stoic tone his gaze narrowing as he saw you sit on the couch staring into space.

“It’s nothing.” You mumble out a reply making Veritas gaze narrow further and his eyebrows furrow into knits.

“Nonsense. I am your spouse. It is obligatory to tell each other how you feel.” He huffed out crossing his arms.

You feeling crappy and not wanting to deal with his constant persistence gave up.

“I just feel tired. Everything seems so dull today.” You pull your knees to your chest praying he didn’t see your exhausted state that was there for no reason.

Veritas eyes softened. He grabbed your hand and kissed its knuckles making you flush ever so lightly.

“What are y-”

“Tell me what I can do to make the boredom vanish.” He cuts you off murmuring into your knuckle.

The only thing that came to your mind was..

“Your presence.” You whisper out and Veritas sits on the couch with you letting you lay on his shoulder.

SUNDAY:

Something wasn’t right. Sunday noticed easily with his perspective self. His hands twitched as you didn’t say a singular word to him the entire day. His wings drooped every time you passed by him without saying anything. As well as his halo dimming every time.

“Darling, what’s gotten you acting this way today?” You know his question was genuine but it stung for no reason. Did you need a reason to act this way?

“I’m just more tired than usual. Even though nothing has happened today. I think that's the reason..I know, weird.”

Sunday sighed and he smiled gently using his gloved hand to pick up your chin quietly placing a soft kiss onto your lips makes you stutter. 

“W-what was that for?” You redden looking up at him with wide eyes.

“There's an expression that isn’t dull.” He murmured out ruffling your hair. “You made me think I wasn’t treating you well.” 

You hitch at his words and shake your head rapidly.

“Of course not! You know I love you.” You stare up at him with those wide eyes making Sunday melt and kiss you again.

My posts aren't consistent im so sorry guys : (

[mydearesthrry]

episode 2 - love island!harry styles

a/n: im inspired if you couldnt tell. no spoilers! this wont really follow the li universe exactly but if you want more let me know :P LOVE ISLAND USA 2024 CAST BTW

“hi, could i pull you for a chat?” harry softly taps on y/n’s shoulder, a polite smile on his face.

“oh, yeah, of course!” she picks up her wine glass, pulling the skirt of her dress off of her knees and jumping off the stool, grabbing onto harry’s forearm for support.

“oof, careful there, love.” he warns, eyebrows furrowing concerned as she stumbles.

“im okay, im okay! its just my heels. they’re a bitch on this wood, they get stuck in the cracks.” she giggles, intertwining their arms.

harry supports her, leading her towards soul ties for a chat. they get settled, and he pulls off his backward cap. “so, love, how are you feeling?”

she shrugs. “i mean, a bombshell just took my couple so not that well, but…” she flickers her eyes up at him. “i feel…. i like this. i like you, and.. i wouldn’t mind exploring this if— if that’s what you’d want too?”

“i do! i do, i really do— and… i’m not coupled either, i know you aren’t… maybe if we got lucky?” he responds, turning completely to her, resting a hand on her knee.

she nods, smiling at him and leaning a bit closer. “yeah. maybe if we got lucky.”

“so,” harry takes a sip from his water bottle. “do you have your eyes on anyone else in the villa?”

she shakes her head. “no, i honestly… i couldn’t, at this point. i know you got here to the villa last night, but,” she pauses. “i think you got me.”

harry looks up, cheesing. “yeah?”

“mhmm,” she nods. “you’re.. definitely my first choice. but i know that a few other girls want you too.”

he scoffs, shaking his head. “nah. i got you, babe. swear it. tonight? you got me.”

“yeah? i do?” she murmurs insecurely.

he lifts her chin with his hand. “you got me. i promise.” he places a soft kiss to her cheek before wrapping his arm around his shoulders, bringing her close. “my girl. we’re basically already coupled, don’t lie.”

she giggles. “if that’s what you think, h.”

“wh— y’don’t think that too?!” he squawks, ruffling her hair.

“i do! i do, i promise!” she squeals, pushing his hands away, quickly placing her glass on the floor, coming to attack him back.

“no! no! not the hair!” he giggles, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. “you’re so pretty.”

she snorts, shaking her head and scooting closer to his chest. “you’re biased. and you’re a liar.”

“me? a liar? never, my love. you’re the most beautiful girl here.” he says simply, pressing another small kiss to her temple. “ready to get recoupled?”

she nods. “ready.”

———

a few hours later, the girls stand in a line in front of the firepit, y/n at the start of the line. ariana calls her out, and she steps forward.

“um, i’m choosing this boy because… he’s really kind, and a really good person, and i think our connection has been really special, um…” she pauses, flicking her eyes to harry who’s already grinning.

“and yeah, i just think that we could make something special if given the opportunity, and i choose…. harry.” she giggles, face flushing at harry pumping his fist in victory, jumping and hooting as all the boys cheer and shout for him.

they meet each other half way, arms held out for each other. he grabs her and pulls her close, mouth leveling with her ear as he whispers, “my girl. see? you got me, and i got you.” before he places a kiss to her cheek, leading her back to his seat.

he pulls her down to sit next to him, wrapping an arm around her as his hand rests on her hip. he places another soft kiss to her hair, getting comfortable with her resting against his side.

she looks up at him and puckers her lips, harry grinning and leaning forward to peck her lips. ariana squeals, and they both flush red at the reminder that they weren’t alone.

“we were destined for this!” he defends, holding her closer possessively.

“yeah man, we know.” kendall says back, crossing his arms and slightly grumbling.

“don’t be sad, kendall!” she grins, leaning closer into harry. the conversation moves on, and the next girl steps forward.

harry leans forward, whispering into her ear. “you look absolutely beautiful, by the way.”

she moves her head to look at him, scrunching her nose and smiling appreciatively. she leans forward and presses a soft kiss to his cheek. “thank you.”

———

Y/N walks in after changing into her pjs and removing her makeup, walking toward her and harry’s bed, harry already under the covers with a book in front of his face. “can i join you?”

harry looks up, grinning widely. “of course, m’girl. come cuddle up, get comfy.”

she hops in, throwing the covers over them, engulfing them in darkness, a sliver of light coming from the barely cracked duvet at their heads. “hi.”

“hi baby, you okay?” harry smiles back, moving a bit closer, their nose now touching.

“so very okay,” she nods. “im really excited for this.”

“i am, too. so excited. wanna cuddle?” he offers, going to pull the covers down.

“wait— wait…” she holds a hand out, and he pauses. “can i… can we kiss for a little? just a little, i don’t wanna be one of those couples, but… just a little?”

“you don’t need to ask, sweet girl. c’mere.” he brings her forward, buttoning his lips with hers. he hums softly at the feeling of her soft lips on his, the taste of her coconut lip balm shooting a thrill of desire up his spine. they kiss slowly, evading the loud noises.

“wait, are Y/N and harry making out under the blankets?” kaylor calls, making them freeze, breaking their lips and cuddling close, knowing someone was going to pull over their covers. and to no one’s surprise, rob’s face shines over Y/N and harry, a smug grin on his face.

“oh, you guys totally were.” harry swats him away, hiding y/n’s face from their view.

“leave us alone!” she squeals, hitting at rob’s thigh.

“okay, okay! jeez lovebirds, my bad.” he smirks, walking back to his bed.

the room quickly quiets down, the lights shutting off as everyone shuffles to get comfortable.

“cuddle?” harry whispers into her ear. she nods, burrowing into his chest.

"I could stay like this with you forever, love," he murmurs, his voice low and affectionate. "just holding you in my arms, feeling your body against mine. It's like the rest of the world disappears and it's just us, together, in our own little world."

“so cheesy.”

“you love it.”

she hums. “yeah. i really do.”

[mactavishsgfandwife]

Last Night’s Mistake - Simon "Ghost" Riley

the morning after not proofread nothing nsfw, angsty, with a little comfort at the end female reader

A slight headache is all that remains from last night - confused, tired, achy, you slowly wake up. One by one, little sensations come to your attention. Your head hurts, your body feels warm, your hips still feel a little bit sore from where the uncomfortable skirt that you wore last night dug in. And you’re in bed, in a room, shady and quiet… with an empty space on the other side of the bed.

"Shit…" you groan, your voice a little sore from the night before. This isn’t your bed.

The floor is cool under your feet as you shakily stand up - a soreness growing in your legs. In the bedroom mirror, you inspect yourself. Though the girl staring back at you is the same girl you were last night, her hair is messed up and her face is a little flushed, her makeup having almost entirely worn off except for a hint of sparkle on her eyelids. Not to mention, she’s in nothing but her panties.

Whoever’s room this is, their wardrobe is pretty bare, the only civilian clothes being a few different t-shirts and vests, two dark-coloured hoodies, a pair of sweatpants, a pair of jeans, and some smart clothes for formal occasions. Not the cutest selection, but it would do, so you grabbed the black Led Zeppelin t-shirt and pulled it on.

Sat on his bed, you fixed your hair in the mirror as you tried to remember who he was. Little memories came back from the night before, unclear, like a half-forgotten dream. Drinks. A silver ring on his finger - not a wedding ring, you noted. You were in the car, with his rough hand on your thigh, playing with the hem of that god-awful skirt. Doors clicking, sheets ruffling, short blonde hair… oh my God, you’d fucked Simon Riley.

"Shit," you curse your idiocy, for the second time this morning.

You’ve wanted Simon, you’ve always wanted Simon, but he’s kind of a dick and not the kind of person you’d seriously want to be with. Plus, he’s a little bit older than you and not the kind of man who has girlfriends. He barely even has friends.

Finding a spare toothbrush in his bathroom, you brush your teeth, and clean yourself up with some water and his men’s face cream for lack of a moisturiser, not being able to completely remove the sparkle and shadow of eyeliner from around your eyes. But you know you can’t distract yourself for too long from facing last night’s mistake. Simon.

He’s sitting on the sofa with a cup of tea, in a pair of those plaid pyjama bottoms and a black tshirt that you’re pretty sure is exactly the same as three others you just saw in his wardrobe. He doesn’t make any effort to acknowledge you, focused on some work on his laptop. Maybe the same pit of regret over last night is sitting inside his stomach, maybe he doesn’t want to acknowledge you for fear that things won’t work out - after all, a regrettable one night stand is much more bearable than a rejection. But maybe he just doesn’t care, and you figure that’s more likely.

"Morning," you speak softly, a little taken aback by his lack of interest. It just feels so empty, and part of you is just begging him to show some emotion and put an end to this weird, uncomfortable limbo.

Of course, he doesn’t do that. He looks up at you nonchalantly, and nods, as if to say "morning. see you."

Something about that reaction hurts - even if he sees this as something mutually regrettable, the way that he dismisses your existence feels the the ultimate rejection. It’s not the sex, you figure, the sex was great. At least, that’s what the shaky aching of your legs and the marking on your neck is telling you. Maybe it was just you. And in those few seconds that you stare at each other blankly, not knowing what to add to fill the silence, all the exhaustion from last night and the discomfort of this morning hits you at once and all you want to do is cry.

"I should go," your voice falters a little, ashamed, as you head back into his bedroom to fetch the stuff you’d thrown on the floor beside his bed just last night. For a moment, before closing the door behind you, you wait for any sign of a reaction from the man on the sofa. Nothing. You close the door just as your breath starts to get shaky.

For some unclear reason, you can’t seem to get going right away. So you sit on his bed, in his shirt, staring down at the terrible skirt and the shirt you’d worn with it, thrown over your favourite bag and the same shoes you wear every time you go out because you only own two pairs of shoes. You’re so ridiculous, all teary over Simon - you knew this would happen, you knew a man like that would only use you and then make you cry. You curse him, the alcohol, the terrible skirt… but mostly, yourself. He was just a crush, something stupid and unobtainable, something no girl in her right mind would actually go near. Yet here you were.

Shivering from his weirdly cold house, you slowly pull off his tshirt, the fabric brushing against your bare back as it comes off.

"You can keep the shirt, love," a gruff voice says, "looks better on you than it does in me." A chuckle comes from behind you as you jump at the sudden intrusion, and there he is, in all his… whatever he is. Simon. He’s behind you, on the bed, with an large hand reaching out to play with the end of your hair.

"Oh…" he sighs as one of your little teardrops falls on his wrist, "you alright?"

Little teardrops keep falling, and your best efforts to keep it together are starting to fall through. It feels silly, but all the exhaustion and the rejection is too much for you, despite your best efforts to deny it.

"M’fine…" you mumble, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

"You’re not fine, you’re crying," he chuckles softly, with a hint of empathy behind the gruff tone of his voice. Something about that, about him, hurts your heart as you let out a shaky sob.

Instinctively, his strong arm wraps around your waist and pulls you in to his chest. His hands are surprisingly warm, and they cup your puffy cheeks with tender care, a rough thumb wiping away your pretty tears.

"M’sorry, darling…" he holds your face close to his, and gently leans in for a kiss. You don’t have any energy in you to resist, but you don’t really want to. Si doesn’t feel like a mistake anymore. He feels like comfort.

hope you enjoyed! that was a long one for me :3

[girlboypersonthingy]

i’ve never really asked before but i just read all of your sally face stuff and BFBSVAVAX so i was thinking….

(preferably afab) reader coming home tired and needy, walking in sal and their shared room sighing as they rip off their work shirt and stare at sal who’s practicing a new song. waiting for him to put his guitar aside they fall dramatically into his lap and start COVERING his mask in kisses, stopping suddenly to ask for a real kiss:3

just some fluffy stuff pls it’s been a LONGGGG few weeks:D

A D O R A B L E ! ! ! This week has def been a ‘I want to come home to Sal and collapse in his arms’ type of week for me like oof 😔…I’m sorry this took me a while to get to, I hope you’re alright. Hopefully you’re doing better by now and if not, plz feel free to message me and we can chat 🖤 thanks for requesting and enjoy!

Notes: fem!reader, this is really fucking silly I’m so sorry…

TW: a bit suggestive, lots of swearing, making out, spit/drool, boobs lol 18+ only!!!

Sal x reader- Hard Day 🌙

(Imagine Sal practicing this song while you read this 🖤)

“Fuuuuuuckkkk…” You groan loudly as you drag your feet through the doorway of the house, stomping loudly on each step of the stairs. As you near the door way of your bedroom, you see the light is on, the music is loud and you can hear Sal playing his guitar along to it, occasionally hitting the wrong note. As you step across the threshold of the room, you let loose a big breath of air as you slouch over a bit, catching Sal’s attention for a moment.

“Hey babe!” He shouts over the music while continuing with his playing. He was sat up on the corner of the bed, guitar in his lap, slouched over with his prosthetic still on. You couldn’t help but watch his fingers on the strings for a moment, black painted nails moving oh so smooth but still making little mistakes. “Hi…I’m so tired.” You say but it falls on deaf ears. Sal is just so close to nailing this one part of the song, he’s been trying for two and half hours now and he’s too close to quit.

Disappointed and a bit annoyed, you quickly shed your shirt and continue giving Sal a cranky but needy glare, only covered by a bra up top. “Sal!!!” You finally shout, making Sal look up, making his hands freeze for a moment. He quickly leans over to turn the music off, his blue hair swaying over his shoulders as he moves. “I’m sorry…uh hey…babe. You okay?” Just by the tone of his voice, the way he’s hesitating and stopping to lick his dry lips under his mask, you can tell he’s equally flustered and excited by your lack of clothes.

“No…I’m not…” You pout for a moment, sighing as you rub your aching temples. He sets his guitar aside and puts one hand out towards you, offering it as a comforting gesture. You gladly accept, grabbing his hand then quickly approaching him and sitting in his lap. “This week…was the fucking worst!” You cry out dramatically, turning to the side so he can hold you bridal style. “I just wanna stay home with you all day, every day.” Sal chuckles softly, one arm tucked up under your knees, the other cradling your back while his hand ruffles the hair on the nape of your neck. “Me too, babe. Me too…” He replies before he gently nuzzles his prosthetic up against your face, making kissy noises under it.

After enough of his cuddly kisses, you decided to return the favor, covering his mask in kisses. You pepper kisses everywhere, all over his prosthetic very quick and soft. Until finally, you pause and place a long kiss on the lips of his prosthetic, humming as a smile grows on your lips. “You know what would really make me feel better…?” You really drag out the words, using your best flirty voice as your finger traces the side of his mask. “What?” He quickly clears his throat, your faces only inches apart. His rapid breathing echos inside his prosthetic as his hand slides up to fully cradle your head.

“Kiss me for real…please?” Your flirty tone turns to a very soft, comforting type of tone, smiling up at him as you watch him blink down at you. There’s a pause, he hesitates for a moment before gulping nervously. Although you’ve seen his face many times before, mouth to mouth kisses were hard to come by with Sal. With a shaky hand, he grabs your own hand and guides it to the back of his head, gesturing for you to unclip his prosthetic for him. He was far too nervous to do it himself, he figured he’d let you set the pace.

To his surprise, you’re pretty quick with the buckles and the mask falls into your lap within seconds. Immediately, your lips meet, Sal uses that hand on the back of your head to push you into him further. As your arms snake around his neck, hugging him close to your nearly bare chest, his other hand is gently kneading your hip as you move your lips against his. The kiss began to rapidly pick up pace, his tongue occasionally licking along your bottom lip.

It was always a delightful shock when your lips or tongue would meet his teeth accidentally where they peek through his cheek and the corner of his mouth, now was no exception. Any time this happens, Sal usually shies away and assumes it grosses you out, especially when he knows he’s probably drooling. Expecting this would happen, you move one hand to the back of his head, matching the grasp he has on you to keep him engaged in the kiss.

A low moan comes from him as he deepens the kiss along with you, tilting his head and running his tongue along your own. Suddenly, clumsily, Sal grabs ahold of your legs and slowly lays back on the bed, pulling you along with him, trying to keep his lips on yours. He fails at this, your lips parting for a moment, him awkwardly shifting under you until he pulls you up closer to his bright red and slightly sweaty face. You can’t help but laugh, not at him, he’s just too cute when he gets like this,

A chuckle rumbles from his chest as he holds you closer, squeezing you tightly against him as he places a final kiss on your nose. “Are you feeling better?” He quickly leans back in for a few more tender lip kisses, smiling brightly as he pulls back. “Yes, sooooo much better. You know what would really make me happy though, Sally?” Your hands run slowly through his long, blue hair as he hums in response. “Hm?”

“Let’s do all of that again…but in a nice hot shower~”

Cue Sal getting a gruesome bloody nose as he glances down at your barely covered chest and thinks about having a shower with you. 🥴🖤

[jinnie-ret]

cigarette duet

poly!stray kids x ninth member!reader

genre: angst, fluff at the end

content warnings: smoking, mentions of rehab, mentions of recovery

word count: 3k

summary: you get hounded by your boyfriends after they catch you smoking. how will they react when you disappear and go off the radar?

requested: @ihrtlix

It has been a while since I've written! I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get around to the requests for this event but I'm getting back into the swing of things! Hope you enjoy! Please don't take offense to any opinions presented in this imagine. Enjoy! And if you want to be tagged in anything I write please lemme know! <3

1K FOLLOWERS PLAYLIST 💚🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Perhaps you had smoked one too many cigarettes last night. Waking up the next morning after battling your stresses with the addictive feed of nicotine, your throat felt dry, hoarse, scratchy even.

"Baby, are you sure you're not sick?" Felix fussed, placing his hand delicately on your forehead to gain an idea of your temperature. "I mean, you don't feel hot, but maybe you're coming down with something?"

"I'm fine, love, just need some water," you kiss his hand that was pulling away from your face, offering a reassuring smile after clearing your throat.

And in your mind, that was enough. You didn't notice the little things that your boyfriends did however.

"Binnie, what are you doing? You look like a perv haha," Hyunjin giggled at the sight of Changbin rummaging through the laundry basket and sniffing your hoodie.

"Ssshhh, keep it down. And plus, it's not being pervy, people in relationships do it all the time. It's comforting smelling each other's clothing," Changbin righteously pointed out to his boyfriend, puffing his chest before adding, "well, normally it is..." he sighed.

"Woah that's mean, you can't say our girlfriend smells," Hyunjin pushed Changbin's shoulder, laughing again but with wide eyes this time round.

"No, no, you've got the wrong idea anyways. I think... I think Y/N's been smoking. I can smell it on her hoodie," Changbin sighed, tossing the white hoodie of yours back into the washing basket that was full to the brim. He was about to continue his spiel of conspiracies until he jumped when your arms wrapped around behind him.

"Aw, babe, are you doing the washing? Thank god for that, I was worried it would never get done," you squeezed him tightly once more before kissing him on the cheek and continuing your venture into the kitchen, Felix trailing behind you.

"I think she's getting sick, I'm gonna see if we have any meds in the cupboard, or some throat sweets at least," Felix pouted as he walked past his two boyfriends, Hyunjin ruffling his hair on the way.

Changbin threw a meaningful look at Hyunjin, alarms going off in his head because it only added more fuel to the blazing fire of thoughts in his head.

"Look, we don't know that she is smoking for sure. Maybe she's just been around some friends that are?" Hyunjin whispers hurriedly, yet this caught Seungmin's attention, and his ears too.

"Huh? What are you talking about?" Seungmin casually stood between the two, grabbing laundry detergent and capsules from the cupboard to act natural yet because practical at the same time.

"I'll explain later, to all of you. I'm just a bit concerned," Changbin sighed, rubbing his hand across his face before actually making a start on the chore at hand.

It was an escape for you, much like it was for other people who smoked cigarettes. And plus, you hadn't been doing it for long. You thought what could the harm be when you didn't do it a lot? Plus, it was handy that none of your boyfriends batted an eyelid in the studio when you said you wanted to go outside for some air. In fact, it gave the opportunity for Changbin to lay out his thoughts to the rest of your boyfriends who hadn't yet heard his observations.

"Y/N... I don't think she'd do that, I can't picture it," Jeongin shook his head, shaking his hands in confusion because the picture being painted in front of them seemed very unlikely and it wasn't a nice one to think of.

"And she knows it's too risky. First of all we're idols. I hate to say it but we have to think about that first in situations like these. Even when we're drinking we've got to be careful. If you're right about this, Binnie, then..." Chan groaned, leaning back into his seat with a huff.

"But she did just go out 'for some air'," Han added on, brows furrowed as he thought what Changbin was saying was quite plausible.

"Ok. We'll go check then," Minho shrugged as he stood.

"What?" Felix too stood up.

"We can't sit here and keep worrying. Let's go check and see for ourselves. If we're wrong... And I hope we are... Then it's fine," Minho grabbed his phone and shoved it into his pocket, scanning around the room for his boyfriends' reactions.

"And if we're not wrong, then what?" Hyunjin voiced his concerns.

"Let's just hope we're not," Chan was first to walk out the door, the rest of Stray Kids following along after him like ducklings and their mother. Apart from this time it wasn't the cute, adorable scene you'd hope for, especially because they could smell the smoke and see your lax figure as soon as they rounded the corner to the back of the building.

"No. Y/N you've got to be kidding me!" Chan snatched the cigarette out of your hand and immediately stomped it out.

"Chan I-" you fumbled on your words, eyes wide as you had all eight of your lovers stood in front of you. And the way they looked at you made you stomach twist into knots you were sure you'd never felt.

Disappointment. Anger. Concern. Indifference.

"Let's talk about this inside," Changbin wrapped an arm around your shoulder as he spoke quietly to you.

Your heart was racing faster. They were going to think the worst. But you had a way out of this. It wasn't even that bad. Sure, over the past month maybe you'd have been spending more money on packs of cigarettes, yet on the inside you felt as if there were worse things you could be doing to yourself.

"Sit," Minho bluntly said, face unreadable, tone void of emotion.

And so you did.

"We'll just have a conversation about this, nice and calm, ok?" Felix nudged Chan in particular with his leg.

It seemed however that it wasn't a conversation, but more of an intervention. A heated one, at that.

"I can't be nice and calm, Lix! Our girlfriend is destroying her body, and for what?" Chan's voice rose ever so slightly, hands squeezing the arms of the chair he was tensely sat in.

"It's just a cigarette," you feebly replied. That backbone of yours was slowly wearing away the more and more anger you felt radiating off of your partners.

"Don't be ridiculous," Seungmin scoffed, "think of the damage it's doing. Think about your career."

"It's more than just the odd cigarette, right?" Changbin prodded, wanting answers to the millions of questions he had. After all, he was the first one to notice how you gradually stopped voicing your concerns to him but still sometimes had the habits that showed your anxiety.

"Well, yes, but-" you began but were cut off.

"No buts. That's... It's, you're hurting yourself, hurting your lungs. Why are you doing this, baby?" Jeongin took your hand in his, concern not the only thing glistening in his eyes, which broke your heart.

"It's just a nice distraction, that's all. It won't go on forever, I'll just stop when I want to," you shrug your shoulders, squeezing his hand to show you meant what you said.

"It's not that easy. Nicotine. It's addictive. You think you can just stop like that?" Hyunjin frowned, shaking his head.

"I know I can," you firmly said, urging them with your voice to trust you.

"I don't know what planet you're living on," Chan shook his head.

"Channie..." Felix bit his lip, feeling torn. On one hand he didn't want your boyfriend to be so tough with you, but he also disagreed with the choices you made, the ones you were making.

"No I'm sorry but Y/N, babe, you've made one of the stupidest choices you could make! Seungminnie is right, Jeongin too. It's damaging for your body, let alone your career. You keep this up, you're not going to be able to sing as well as before. And then it'll get to the point where you can't breathe as well anymore," Chan ranted, fiddling with the bracelets adorning his wrist as he didn't take his eyes away from yours, not once.

"I just told you it's not going to go that far!" your face contorted to one of disbelief.

"That's out of your control," Minho sternly redirected your attention to him.

"Wow. It's like you don't even trust me. I'm not some kid. I can make my own decisions. So what if I'm doing this for a little bit of stress relief? For a bit of fun. It helps me," your voice almost turns to pleading, wanting them to hear you out, hear your reasoning.

"It hurts you, baby. And when it hurts you, it hurts us as well," Han bit his lip after shakily speaking up. He didn't like this situation, not one bit.

"I'm not doing it to hurt you. I'd never do that," your voice wobbled, throat feeling as if it was closing up from the sob that was lodged down there.

"Too late. I mean just look," Chan emptied your handbag, empty packets of cigarettes and some not, falling out onto the floor of the studio.

"Y/N, that's a lot," Hyunjin gasped, clutching a hand on his chest.

"It's not. It's not that bad..." you denied as you knelt on the floor and tidied up the mess.

"You're in complete denial," Seungmin rolled his eyes.

"I'm not! I'm well aware of my actions thank you very much!" you shouted suddenly, causing everyone to freeze at the volume you had just reached.

The guilt set in. It was never meant to go this far. It was just meant to be for stress relief. Something to distract you from the aches and pains, physical and mental. It wasn't long until you'd be performing a special fanmeeting and relearning old choreographies and a cover had you feeling like you were being worked down to the bone. Even iconic dances like God's Menu were hard to remember, and you felt like you had no chance. No choice. It was like it fell into your lap so easily.

The first time you had stood outside to catch some air, it was for that genuine reason. And you weren't alone. You didn't know if the person worked at your company, if you knew them, whatever. But their hand offering you something that could bring you temporary bliss was a solution you were grateful for. Only now, you were seeing that it was short term.

"You need help. Seriously..." Chan spat, grabbing his backpack and storming out of the studio.

"Find a way to end this, Y/Nnie," Felix mumbled, stroking your hair gently before following Chan out with a rush.

"You're all just going to go?" your voice cracked. Were they leaving you now?

"We just need some time," Changbin sighed. And then he was gone too.

"You're leaving me?" you sniffled, standing up to face your boyfriends that were still in the room.

"Not like that, baby. We're just giving you time to think about how you can stop this, ok?" Han stroked your face as he made sure you knew this wasn't the end. And then he left too, Minho, Hyunjin, Seungmin and Jeongin leaving too.

All alone. Perhaps it was what you deserved. You relied on the cigarettes more than your boyfriends. And they were all you had left for the moment. That was when it sank in. You had to make a change. You had to stop this habit form taking over your life, from pushing away the people you love most, and from taking your life away.

•••

"She's sorting herself out at least... that's got to be commendable."

"I guess so. Let's just hope it doesn't get out that a JYP idol is at rehab for smoking."

"It won't. And she's doing well from what I've heard..."

This was the only time Han was grateful for the staff gossiping. Immediately, he felt calmer. Considering the boys had spent the last few days blowing up your phone and worrying where you went, it was an oddly relieving feeling hearing you were at rehab. They had tried asking JYP himself, asking the manager of the company where you were but all they said was that you were safe.

"I know where she is!" Han bursted through the apartment door, slamming it shut behind him as he panted out of breath.

"Woah, woah, ok, deep breaths, let's sit down," Chan, with the darkest circles around his eyes yet, gently sat Han down on the sofa. He felt awful. He thought he had driven you away from them all. From the group. From the relationship. And that had been eating him up inside. It was a wonder he could act so calm with the news of you going into rehab.

"Rehab? For smoking? I didn't even know that was a thing," Seungmin hummed in thought, his arms crossed.

"I didn't either, but I overheard the staff. They say she's doing well. It's a good thing, right?" Han's eyes stared through the souls of everyone gathered in the lounge, begging for some sort of confirmation that things would get better.

"I mean, at least we're a bit more in the know then our own fans about why our girlfriend is on hiatus," Changbin brushed his fluffy, dark hair out of his eye.

"Can't we go and see her?" Felix wondered, lifting his head up from where it rested on Minho's shoulder.

"We shouldn't," Minho quietly sighed.

"Why not?" Jeongin quickly turned to him, mouth parted in shock that he didn't want to see Y/N.

"No, he's right. She's gone there for a reason. To get better. It's what we all said to her, isn't it? We'll see her soon. And when we do... It'll all be better," Chan helped everyone see sense. He was right. You had listened to them. You went and got help and were solving the problem. If they suddenly ambushed you and got in the way of that... You'd be back to square one.

•••

Today was the day, you were finally going back to the boys. You spent a good 3 weeks at rehab, and had been advised on some good coping mechanisms to take your mind off of smoking and how to create some healthier habits. You had shown good progress and it was deemed acceptable for you to leave and spend time back with your loved ones. And you couldn't lie, you were incredibly nervous. You had dropped a text without reading the spam that littered the groupchat, notifying your boyfriends what time you'd be returning, but after that you once again did not read anything else that was sent.

"Oh my baby, I've missed you so much," Han was the first one at the door, pressing kisses all over your face as he took you into his arms, holding you lightly.

"I've missed you too," you cried immediately, despite the weight off your shoulders.

"You're good now, right, darling?" Seungmin softly tugged you away from Han, both of his hands cupping your face whilst his thumbs wiped away your tears.

"I'm better," you nod through tears, Seungmin pressing a kiss to your head and giving space for your other boyfriends to soothe you and reunite with you. It had only been three weeks, yes, but 21 days had never felt so long.

"I'm proud of you, come here," Changbin scooped you into his arms and lifted you slightly, making you giggle before your feet touched the ground once more.

"Thank you... I'm sorry. I didn't realise what I had done... How far it went, you know?" you began, looking down at the floor as Hyunjin came and wrapped his arms around you from behind, his long arms securing you to him.

"We're just happy to see you here, honey, healthier," he whispered into your ear soothingly.

"And please talk to us in future. We had time to think after that, moment, and we know you were doing it as an escape. But we're here for you," Jeongin pecked you on the lips, your heads pressed against each other for a moment before he too moved away.

"Always, we're always here," Felix reiterated what Jeongin preached, and kisses you as well, noses rubbing against each other as he moved away, a cute expression on his face.

"Come here," Minho opened his arms, and you reluctantly left Hyunjin's arms only to be happy again in the warmth of your other boyfriend's embrace.

"Thank you for waiting, all of you," you swayed with him in his hug, until you pulled away and it was only Chan left.

He stood a few metres away, back to you, shoulders shaking ever so slightly.

"Channie... babe," you sighed, tugging his hand to turn him and face you. His words had hurt you the most but it was also a huge wake up call. "Please, look at me, I'm not mad. I'm so grateful."

"I was too harsh with you," he bit his lip, hard, not wanting to let any tears escape.

"I needed it. Look at me now, I'm here, I'm better, and I've got habits I can stick to instead. Ones that won't hurt me. And they won't hurt you guys either," you looked up at him, one hand running through the hair at the nape of his neck and the other cupping his face.

"I'm so glad you're back... We were worried... Lost without you," Chan admitted, staring up at the ceiling before kissing you deeply, expressing all the emotions he had held back whilst you were gone.

"It's all good now. Plus, you should all be proud of me-"

"We are proud of you, baby," Jeongin cut you off stroking your hair.

"Well, be even prouder because I know how to bake an amazing carrot cake if I say so myself," you laughed, sharing a new skill that had occupied your stress and been taught whilst you were away.

"You can bake with me now! Oh my gosh! It's a miracle!" Felix cheered, tugging you into the kitchen as the other boys chuckled from behind you both.

"I didn't think you meant this very second!"

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @hannahhbahng @kpopmenace143 @sakufilms @kailee08 @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @cheesemonky @his-angell @turtledove824 @2minstan @royal-shinigami @yangbbokari @skzoologist @crabrangoongirl25 @atinyniki @writingforstraykids @minholing @lilmisssona @astraysimp @lixie-phoria

[livbedum]

take care of my girl

thornton!reader x rafe cameron

summary over the course of two years , you and rafe had been playing this god awful game of cat and mouse. it just so happens one day your boyfriend leaves you in the caring arms of his friend , and the game finally comes to an end.

warnings profanity , illusions to an emotionally distant boyfriend , cheating

18+ minors dni

you , your brother , and your mother were staying at topper’s house for the summer while she had the entire house’s tiling redone. you stayed in the spare bedroom right across the hall from topper’s room , and made no worry about making yourself comfortable. it was currently a perfect summer weekend , and both your mother and aunt decided to take the couple of days they had off and spent in the city.

when you came downstairs to start your day , rafe and kelce were already over , hanging out in the living room. in between topper and rafe sat your little brother. he was playing games with the older boys on the tv , and you couldn’t help but crack a smile at the sight.

you made your way behind the couch , grabbing alex’s head and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “good morning , my little angel,” you started , ruffling his hair without too much fuss from him, “hanging with the big kids today?”

“uh , mom says i can’t go on the boat without her , so she wanted me to tell you that you have to hang back and stay home with me,” alex explained , eyes never leaving the tv screen , where him and rafe were currently fighting against each other on.

you hummed , thinking about the plans you had for the day. rafe invited everyone out on the druthers for the day ; you , his friends , your boyfriend , a few girls. “well , i don’t see mom anywhere , do you?” you plotted , leaning down by his ear before whispering, “i think rafe’ll let ya on the druthers , right?”

at the sound of his name falling from your lips , rafe turned and looked at you. he took in your matching pajamas and the rollers in your hair. even not done up , you looked heaven-sent. you were untouchable , and that just made rafe want you more. “if y/n says it’s okay then i don’t see why not , kid,” rafe agreed , nudging the ten year old with his elbow before going back to the game, “it’s not like you’re a baby.”

“thank you!” alex hugged rafe from the side , kiddish smile on his lips to show off his little gap, “what do you guys do on boats anyway.”

“usually we just hangout , listen to music. same stuff we do here but on a boat,” topper explained , grabbing the controller from rafe and taking his turn on the game while alex passed his to kelce.

you moved to the kitchen , pouring yourself a cup of coffee and adding all of your extras when you felt someone come up behind you and grab your hips. “good morning to you too , rafe,” you grumbled , pushing him off of you.

“you look beautiful,” he sighed , moving to lean against the counter, “andy coming out today?”

“andrew is coming , yes,” you answered , correcting him at the same time.

“he gonna be a douchebag today?” rafe continued , eyeing you up and down from behind.

you turned entirely to give rafe a nasty look. “are you going to harass him? because if you are then most likely , yeah. he’ll be a douchebag,” you huffed , crossing your arms , coffee in hand, “i don’t even know how you two are friends. it’s like you hate each other but won’t say it even though you both know.”

rafe chuckled a little as he grabbed a beer from the fridge. “i don’t hate the kid,” he began , cracking the bottle open, “i just don’t like that he has something i want.” his blue eyes met yours , daring you to look away first.

you never did. you knew how rafe liked to play his little games. he liked them easy and fun with whatever girl he was trying to get fighting him just enough for it to add to the overall pride he’d feel when he finally scored.

“damn shame,” you hummed , staring back at him, “i should probably get ready.”

“you’re already perfect,” rafe complimented , hand reaching to feel the hem of your shorts. his touch matched the material : delicate.

you smacked his hand away. “we’re going on a boat. i’m not wearing this , idiot,” you hit his chest gently before moving away from him and going to the stairs , feeling his gaze on you the entire time. “we’re leaving at noon , booger! bring sunscreen!” you called out to your brother who just grunted in response.

a few hours had passed , and it was time for everyone to head out. andrew had facetimed you while you got ready , telling you he’d meet at topper’s first. when he arrived , he dapped all the guys up , including alex , before heading up to your room. of course , it wasn’t without glares from rafe and topper.

rafe didn’t like the guy because of you , and topper didn’t like him because he was often the one you cried to about him. andrew was none the wiser , thinking your friend group was one big , happy family.

“you look nice,” andrew smiled , pressing a kiss into your temple as he opened the front door for you. rafe was driving you , andrew , and alex. topper was driving with kelce and the girls they picked up.

“shoulda seen her this morning!” alex laughed , hopping in the front of rafe’s truck like he always did when rafe was chauffeur, “she had those rollers in her hair again. looked all crazy!”

“and you were drooling this morning when i went in to check on you,” you retorted , pushing at the back of his head, “i didn’t look that bad,” you muttered to andrew , sitting in the back next to him.

the drive wasn’t too far to get to the marina. rafe played eye spy with alex while you and andrew sat quiet in the back. “how much did your boat cost?” alex asked when the druthers came into view.

“alexander , you don’t ask people that,” you scolded him quickly , pinching his ear just a little to make him look at you. he did , rolling his eyes as you glared at him.

rafe’s laugh got you to soften before he answered your brother anyway, “way more than it should have.”

“i think i’d rather have my own plane,” alex decided , unbuckling his seatbelt prematurely. rafe reached over , grabbing the polyester before it retracted entirely and buckled it again. “we’re practically there!” your brother whined , clearly excited to go out on the water with everyone.

“somebody could easily be speeding through here , not seeing us , and then slam into my truck. if you’re not buckled? hate to break it to you , but you’re dead after you fly through my windshield,” rafe explained , pressing on his brakes lightly but enough to jostle you all around, “see? seatbelts.”

you glanced at andrew for a moment , seeing him on his phone. he seemed annoyed , but you couldn’t tell if it was you or work or something else. “hang up , hang out?” you asked , nudging your boyfriend as rafe pulled the truck to a stop.

“let the man work if he wants to , y/n,” rafe smiled from the front , giving you a look you knew all too well.

just when he turned around to get out of the truck , andrew locked his phone and smiled at you. “there. all done,” he assured you , getting out of the truck and letting you follow.

he helped rafe grab the necessities from the bed. alex stayed back with you despite grabbing a couple of fishing poles that rafe offered him. you grabbed your bag and a cooler full of drinks. “can we all agree that fishing is going to be stupid?” you asked aloud , knowing topper would groan behind you and andrew would whine.

“fishing is fun!” they both replied. even though topper wasn’t andrew’s biggest fan anymore , they grew up together. fishing was one of their things , and they’d defend it until they died.

once you had all hauled everything onto the boat , rafe took off. alex was right beside him , watching his every move. you sat next to andrew , pulling out your book of the week and started where you left off. andrew , despite being ‘all done’ , picked his phone up again.

“wait , wait!” he called out to rafe , listening to whoever was on the phone as he put his finger up, “i gotta go,” he rushed out , standing up and grabbing his things.

“are you serious?” you deadpanned , looking up at him like he’s the dumbest person you’d met, “like actually?” you heard rafe chuckle a little bit before covering it with a cough , so you shot him a glare.

“yeah , hon,” andrew grimaced. you did too ; you hated that nickname. “duty calls,” he shrugged kissing the top of your head before getting himself on the dock again. he stopped and turned , pointing at rafe , kelce , and topper. “take care of my girl.”

kelce and topper acknowledged their friend while rafe glanced at you. seriously? he thought. seriously. you rolled your eyes. “okay , then. see you later,” you waved at andrew from your spot on the boat , but he was already on the phone again, “rafe , just—“

“gotcha,” the driver nodded , pulling away from the dock and getting out to the water.

he took you all far enough out to where it wouldn’t be filled with people , anchoring down and telling alex to go grab the playing cards and get comfy. rafe had promised him that he would teach him poker , and alex suggested today.

everyone started setting up for whatever they planned to do for the day. topper cracked open a few beers for the girls , and rafe handed you a glass of wine from the bottle he brought just for you. “you heard your boy tell me to take care of you , right?” he smirked , hand lingering on yours a moment too long before you rolled your eyes.

“i can take care of myself,” you assured him , opening your book back up and starting again, “just make sure my brother doesn’t drown please.”

you knew you didn’t have to tell rafe to watch out for alex. every time he was around the older kids , he was constantly being watched by rafe. he made sure nothing was going to happen to your little brother. you hated that you loved it.

andrew hadn’t let you know that he’d made it home or anything like that so far. it’d been three hours. so , you decided to call him. rafe saw you stand up , grab your phone and move to the bedroom for some privacy. he watched you the whole way and gave you a few minutes by yourself.

“hey , it’s your girlfriend calling to say that it would be nice if you’d fucking let me know when you get home,” you rattled into the phone , having to leave a message because andrew didn’t pick up, “it’s been three hours , so , like , hopefully you’re not dead.”

you ended the call and flopped onto the bed you’d spent several nights in before. “fucking asshole,” you whispered , closing your eyes and trying to relax a little bit. you heard the door open and shut before you felt a dip next to you in the bed. one eye peeked open , confirming the fact that it was just rafe.

“you okay?” he quietly asked , copying you and laying down with his eyes closed.

“who’s with al?” you replied , hoping it was topper and not one of the girls you didn’t know that well. rafe assured you he was in good hands , and you were able to sink just a little bit more into the mattress. “andrew was in fact a douchebag today,” you sighed , rolling onto your side to face rafe completely.

rafe copied you , turning on his opposite side and looking into your eyes. usually , he didn’t maintain eye contact for too long , knowing that sparkle would make him weak in the knees. in moments like this , though , he took his time.

you weren’t bickering at each other , weren’t rolling your eyes , weren’t walking away. you were there ; entirely. he was able to study the colors that mixed in your irises and burn them into his memory. he was able to read your mind a little better when you were calm.

“he always is , baby,” rafe finally whispered back , hand coming up to fix a hair that was uncharacteristically out of place, “you deserve someone better. someone that knows you and takes care of you and cherishes you , y/n. i don’t know why you’re with that slob,” he added , bringing his hand down to your hip , and it wasn’t sexual at all. he just wanted to touch you however he could.

the pout on your lips deepened at his words. “throw three years of my life away? doesn’t sound too fun,” you shrugged.

“better than throwing the rest of your life away because you were scared,” he easily countered , thumb starting to move back and forth against the mesh of your coverup.

“and what do i do after?” you questioned , not ever actually thinking of leaving your boyfriend.

rafe chuckled and turned on his back again. “y/n , you would have a line all the way to charleston of guys waiting to fill andrew’s place,” he explained, “no doubt.”

“are you in line?”

his eyes flickered to you again , and a smile he only let appear when he was with you formed on his lips. “yeah,” he nodded, “i’m in line.”

your smile matched his , letting his words sink in. you had this game of cat and mouse , and for the first time , you’re thinking you might actually want to stop playing and just surrender. “so are you going to kiss me or not?”

“you gonna let me?” rafe’s voice was lower , daring you to do something. he wasn’t the type of guy to care too much about a girl’s relationship status , but with you , he wasn’t going to push it too far. he knew the line and stopped short of it every time.

but the answer was simple. you shifted closer to rafe , using your hand to turn his face to yours. “i’m letting you cut the line right now , rafe. take advantage of that,” you advised , voice quiet , like if you spoke any louder it would pop the bubble you two were in.

that was the green light for rafe. he quickly grabbed your face in his hands and kissed you deeply , like he had been waiting for the opportunity. and he had. you both waited two years for this exact moment. the moment you decided to stop playing around and let rafe have what he’d been wanting.

you pulled apart , eyes still closed , to catch your breath. rafe opened his eyes , taking a moment to look at you. your lips were slightly red from the kiss ; you looked perfect like always. “we should probably head back out,” rafe sighed , pulling you out of your trance.

“i don’t think i want to yet,” you admitted , a blush rising on your cheeks. you couldn’t remember the last time you were this flustered over one kiss. “i really don’t want to yet , rafe.”

“yeah , me neither,” rafe agreed with a light laugh , leaning in to peck your lips once again, “i was just trying to be… gentlemanly. i guess,” he rolled his eyes jokingly.

you laughed with him , pulling him in for another kiss. this was one softer than the first , slower. “i don’t need you to be a gentleman,” you shook your head, “just need you to stay you.”

taglist @p0isonb3rry @starkeydolly @edszn @hearts4suri @mylongshaft @fallout-girl219 @hey-itzjustana123

[icallhimjoey]

Almost, Always

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: Happy endings aren't for everyone, so it seems, but that doesn't mean that you can't stop trying for one. Question is, are you actually star-crossed lovers that can figure something out, or just absolutely blind to reality and really fucking stupid?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, smut, cheating

Author’s note: thanks for the love on part 1 – the longer messages ive gotten have been so nice! i hope this 2nd part doesnt disappoint!!

Wordcount: 5.7K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Another little thing. Cute until it wasn’t.

“You can’t be serious, oh my God,” you heard loud complaints coming from the door mat after the door slammed shut. You pushed yourself further into Joe’s sofa in a bad attempt to hide yourself away, because you knew exactly what was coming.

“In my flat?”

The endless bickering over the thermostat was another little thing to be swept under the rug.

Dramatic loud footsteps came closer at rapid speed. When you looked up from your toasty cosy little comfy spot on his sofa, you saw Joe barge in, losing his coat as he was walking, straight over to where the thermostat was.

“In my fucking flat?!” he made eye-contact, facial expression wild as he kept walking, arms moving to take his sweatshirt off next.

There was a small chance that the deep frown would quickly make way for a cheeky grin. Sometimes, it did.

“It’s like a fucking sauna in here– twenty-four degrees?!”

But the cheeky grin never came.

Which was honestly a real shame, because Joe’s hair had gotten all ruffled up from the sweater he just pulled over his head, and when he turned to look at you with a hand already going ham on the minus button, you couldn’t help the laugh that startled out of you.

“Unbelievable. Unacceptable. She can’t be seriou–” Joe turned the heating down to a much more reasonable, in his opinion, eighteen and a half degrees Celsius.

You couldn’t help the cackling at Joe’s outrage. He’d pulled half his T-shirt up when he’d discarded layers, and you were given a lovely view of his bare lower back. Everything about your view was lovely, and had one of your friends been there, you would’ve both laughed at him. Or, at least, given each other secret smirks.

Joe then turned around and looked at you, face set in a deep frown, and said, “You cannot be serious, how is this comfortable to you? It’s absolutely boiling in here, like I just stepped off of a plane in fucking, I don’t know, fucking New Delhi, or whatever.”

He then strode across the room to open a window, to which you finally spoke up.

“No! Not the window, it’s so windy out–” before you could finish your sentence, Joe cut you off with a loud, “It feels like an oven in here!”

The window got opened anyway.

“No, oh my God, it’s subzero out there!” you emerged from your cocoon of blankets where you’d sat nestled into the corner of Joe’s sofa to climb over the back of it in an attempt to fight Joe and close the window.

“Feel my hands!” you got your hands on him, grabbed his T-shirt whilst still half on the sofa, feet digging into the seat.

“No!”

“Joe, feel my– here, feel them, feel my fingers!” you managed to shove a cold hand into his neck that made him yelp.

And sure, the wrestling that followed after where you got shoved back onto the sofa as Joe forced you back onto it was cute.

The loud, “What the fuck, your body is broken!” that came from him as you put both your hands under his T-shirt whilst giggling was cute.

It was cute that Joe then went, “Come here!” and would wrap himself all around to let his body warm you. The endless days under the covers, bodies tightly entangled just because you’d shiver out of your own skin with the heating off was cute. Chattering your teeth together, lips going fucking purple after a shower, the cold air making your wet hair feel even colder against your skin was cute, because then Joe’d be like, “Let’s get you toasty.” before wrapping the both of you up in a throw blanket on the sofa which was cute.

You’d even argue it was cute that Joe’d find you standing in front of the oven after he’d made dinner, catching the warm air as the whole thing cooled down with the door open, and instead of making fun of you, he’d join you there, hugging you from behind so you got warmed up from either side.

But cute had an expiration date.

The cuddling started becoming a task.

The never-ending secret fiddling with the thermostat became really fucking annoying.

It was all cute, until suddenly, it wasn’t anymore.

It was cute until you couldn’t even use your phone in his living room because your fingers hurt.

Sort of cute until your shoulders were sore from pulling them up against your ears for hours straight.

Until Joe started making comments about you paying his gas bill because every time you were over, you’d complain about frozen toes until he would turn the heating up a little.

Until Joe started yelling at you when you would turn and leave the heating on, even if you weren’t in, because you didn’t want to come home to a freezing flat.

Until Joe would yell at you for leaving the heating on in your own flat.

It was one of those things that had eventually added to all the absolute shit that your relationship had become and why, ultimately, you had decided to step out.

The forever, why is it fucking boiling in here coming from him, and the forever, I’m cold, are you cold? coming from you became something that got swept under the rug until you tripped over the hump it left there.

Just another little thing. Cute until you started wondering if it ever even really was…

It’s cold.

Not quite freezing, but definitely cold. It’s thick-coat-warm-scarf kind of cold, but in the sun it’s nice. You need sunglasses to be able to read the words on the pages in front of you, it’s so bright, but this is your favourite type of autumn weather, and the spot you’ve found is just perfect.

Sitting outside, you let your fingers be warmed by a drink and get to enjoy London the way you like best; surrounded by hustle and bustle, but hidden away in your own little world as you let your mind be fully consumed by the book you’re reading.

This is nice.

You almost like it more than going for a coffee with a friend.

Just a little bite of something. A little sip of something else. A couple of pages of plot. Sun on your face.

It’s nice.

You are completely unsure what prompts you to look up, but you do, and you can’t quite believe yourself when you notice Joe walk past.

What the fuck?

You could’ve looked up from your reading at any other time. Could’ve gone for a sip of your drink at any other given moment.

Could’ve missed him.

Should’ve missed him.

But you didn’t. Of course you didn’t. You notice him as he strides past, and he seemingly doesn’t see you. He’s gone before you even get to think about saying hi. Of letting him know that he’s just walked past his ex-girlfriend who, not too long ago, invited him into her bed even though she was seeing someone then.

Was.

It’s fine. He wasn’t right for you, and waking up to Joe still asleep on your side of the bed only confirmed those early doubts.

You suppress a smile at the coincidence of seeing Joe on this random afternoon and hide one hand in between your crossed thighs to warm it as you get back into your book.

However, you barely get the chance to.

About a minute in, you notice him from the corner of your eye, walking past again.  The other way this time, and he’s sort of squinting at something further up ahead of him, like the sun is making it really hard for him to see something.

Is this man lost?

You follow Joe’s line of sight, but nothing really stands out, and before you know it, he’s out of earshot and swallowed up by the other pedestrians.

Feels a little weird. Maybe you should’ve said hi. You saw him walk past twice. It’s fine that you didn’t, you don’t have to say hi, but, it definitely feels a little weird.

You give the paragraph in front of you another go, but this time, you can’t even make it to the end of the first sentence before you recognise the outfit in your peripheral vision.

Joe walks past again, but real fucking slow this time.

You just move your eyes to check what his legs are doing, not moving otherwise, and then, two steps past your table, he stops and you hear him mumble something. You look up a little more to see how he pretends to check a watch that he’s not wearing before he turns around again to walk back the way he came, and finally, you understand what’s happening.

Joe has seen you.

And this is him trying to catch your attention.

You scoff a silent laugh into your book, let it double you over a little because, this is really fucking ridiculous, isn’t it?

A few steps down the pavement, Joe turns one last time, and then, without saying a word, walks over and comes to sit down next to you. Just, takes the other seat at your table without even looking at you.

You’re openly staring at him now, confused at what the fuck he’s doing. Joe leans forward, a little over to you, to fish a paperback that looks like it’s seen better days from a large coat pocket. Then a hand disappears into his other pocket, and he dumps everything from inside onto the table; his phone, an earphone case, his smoking things.

You wonder if Joe had seen you that first time he walked past.

Or if maybe he’d already walked past before you’d noticed him.

Wouldn’t surprise you.

You watch how Joe settles. Sits back in his seat with a loud grumbling exhale, opens his book, and finds the page where he’d left off. He’s not looked at you once.

You tut and shake your head, but that smile is there to stay.

Idiot.

You give that same stupid first line of that same stupid paragraph another read, but your head’s not with it. You’re waiting for Joe to say something. Your eyes are scanning words but you’re reading absolutely nothing.

Then, just like you predicted, you hear a very soft ahem coming from beside you.

You turn your head to look at him, and find him looking at you through narrowed eyes.

Could be from the sun. It’s very bright.

“It’s really unfair for you to be here.”

But no. It’s aimed at you.

“Um…” you start, already beyond offended. “What do you mean unfair?”

“Well,” Joe uses large gestures to place his book on the table with a little too much force. “My afternoon plans were to go and sit out here by myself and read a few pages, but now,” Joe motions around, makes a funny face and finishes, “You’re here.”

You laugh.

“My apologies.”

“Had to walk past six times before she even sees me. Very unfair.” Joe scolds playfully and makes you laugh again.

A waitress shows up and asks if she can get you anything, and for a short moment, the two of you look at each other. Then Joe says, “She’ll have another one, and I’ll take the same. Can we see a menu?” without breaking eye-contact with you, and, Jesus Christ.

Then, to be polite, he quickly looks at the waitress, says “Thanks.” with a show-stopping smile and you can see the effect it has on her.

This guy’s a charmer.

The waitress smiles, says, “Yes, of course!” and leaves, and just like that, stupid smirks are shared over a small table that’s perfectly placed out of the wind and in the direct sunlight. You both have books, and then warm drinks get brought out, and it’s silently decided that you’ll be here for a little while to share each other’s quiet company.

Joe ends up ordering a couple of bites he can share, things he knows you like, so even if you weren’t planning on eating, he knows that if he gives a plate a little push you’ll go for a little something. You feel a weird joy inside of your chest because you’re single right now and so this time around there’s no hidden guilt about spending a little time with Joe in public.

You don’t give a shit if someone sees you.

You were there first.

Joe joined you.

If word got back to Emily, you’d still have to do some explaining, but… you’re not doing anything illegal, you know?

“What are you anxious for?” Joe suddenly speaks up after you’ve been trying to wrestle your way down a page. “Are you meeting someone? Have I just ruined–”

“I’m not anxious.” You cut him off.

Joe’s eyes flick down to where you’re scratching your thumb nail over the ribbed hem of your jumper that you’ve pulled over your hands, fingers half hidden inside the sleeves, the frayed edge giving away how often you do that.

He reaches for it, wraps his fingers around your wrist and you only realise then what he means. You drop your shoulders and force yourself to relax.

You keep forgetting Joe knows things about you.

“I’m not meeting someone.” You then confirm, because there’s no one else to meet, but you’re surprised at how sweet the words come out of your mouth.

You’re giving yourself away.

Letting yourself be read too easily.

Oh God, reel it in already, you’re embarrassing yourself.

Wait.

Does Joe have someone else to meet?

Is he dating someone? Or, and this is actually the question that needs to be asked: does someone out there think they’re dating him? Has he been acting a certain way with someone where that’s the idea he’s left them with?

Presumably not; those fingers wrapped around your wrist far too easily for a hand that belong to someone taken.

Still, you aren’t sure.

You know what he’s like.

Plus, you hadn’t been single the last time this happened, and your hands had been places they shouldn’t have even come remotely close to, so you’re not sure how much hand-placement even really matters.

“Just me, today.” You add to clarify, going for a sip of your drink.

“Good.” Joe smiles, eyes back in his book, and you feel a little warmer inside.

Might be the sun. You’ve been sitting in it for a while.

“Got you all to myself then?” Joe checks, making sure.

Okay so it’s not the sun.

“No weird fake gym date you’ll try to convince me you need to go to?”

You bite your tongue, do your best to hide your smile.

“That wasn’t fake, I really was going to–”

“Yea, all right. Sure.” Joe’s still got his eyes in his book. Turns a page even though you very well know he’s not fucking read a single word since he sat down.

Your jaw drops in a gasp. “I was!” You lower your volume mid-outburst, because just when you hear how loud you are you remember you’re in public.

Joe glances up at you, and he’s just all cheek. Big brazen schoolboy smile and twinkling mischievous eyes, so fucking pleased with himself for working you up just enough for you to be embarrassed about.

And he keeps up the cheek.

Sits silently next to you, supposedly reading his book, but instead he just looks at you for ages, and then when you finally look back to ask him what the fuck he’s staring at, he goes, “What?” like you’re the one that has been staring.

Pushes a plate of bites a little over to you so you reach for some, only to then scoff when you do, muttering, “Rude.” under his breath.

Asks the waitress for the bill and adds, “She’s got it.” before turning to you and telling you he’s just going to go to the toilet real quick. You roll your eyes, sort of smiling as the waitress politely makes a joking comment before she goes after him to fetch the bill. Then, about three minutes later he steps out and goes, “Okay let’s go.” and it turns out he’s already paid for everything inside.

Goes, “No, this way,” with a nod of his head when you stand up to leave and want to head home, and for a moment you’re like, Joe, like he needs reminding that you’re actually no longer together as a couple, but he just goes, “Come on.” and holds a grabby hand out behind his back as he starts walking, waiting for you to come take hold of it, like you’re the one that’s being silly.

And... you are.

Because you then just… follow him.

Easily grab hold of his hand.

Easily let yourself be lead over to his flat.

Easily remember the route he takes, which busy places you avoid and which roads to cross when.

Easily fall into random conversations about, hey remember that one time that we had dinner at this restaurant and they tried to feed us raw chicken? they’ve got a new owner and it’s actually nice now, as you walk together and you almost forget that this dynamic isn’t normal.

It’s not normal to ignore every little thing that was wrong in your relationship. Every little thing that made you decide that you actually wanted out. Needed out.

But you suppose that, with the way Joe’s acting, it sort of is a little normal for you to feel the way you do.

It’s a little normal you no longer want to think about sides of beds, of the lack of communication, of the schedule issues, and the time management problems…

It’s easy to want to forget, and so… you do.

You decide to forget and so you do.

That is, until Joe opens his front door and says, “You’re going to love what I did with the place.” as you’re about to step inside. Before you even get the chance to laugh at his joke, because everything is exactly as you remembered it, you mutter, “Jesus fucking Christ!”. You swear you can see your own breath it’s so cold. “How the fuck is it colder in here than it is outside? You’ve got south facing windows!”

“Oh Jesus.” Joe remembers.

“You live like this!” You say with huge bulging eyes, like it’s the most outrageous thing ever, but Joe just smiles and hangs up his coat before he uses both hands to start undoing the buttons of yours.

“I was out.” He says, fighting your hands that try to keep your coat done up. “The heating’s off right now, so yes, it’s a little cold at the minute–”

“A little cold?”

“But!” he shuts you up. “I’ll turn the heating on now that I’m back and it’ll be warm in no time.”

You allow Joe to undo all the buttons.

Allow him to help you take the coat off completely.

Allow him to find the thermostat before you do.

Allow him to make a joke about how you live in a tropical climate and how you live like that in your tone of voice.

And then he asks if no one else ever complains about that. Because, surely, they must.

“Or did you find someone whose got the same biological inability to keep themselves warm?”

“No,” you huff a laugh as you pull your sleeves over your hands and cross your arms tightly over your frame .

“No? Jasper not giving you a hard time over it?”

You’ve never said his name was Jasper. His name’s not Jasper.

“No one is giving me a hard time about anything, thanks.” You bite back, and for a moment, Joe stops and looks at you.

Really looks.

Reads you.

You do your very best to look back and remain all casual, like you’re not afraid that Joe is able to read every single thought that pops up just as quickly as it vanishes in your brain.

You’re in Joe’s flat and, truly, you have no real reason to be there right now.

“Wow.” Joe then softly says, eyebrows raised in genuine surprise. “How long did that last?”

He steps away from the thermostat, walks over to the fridge, and you can see how he’s only set it to 19 degrees. That barely counts as warm.

“Um. Mind your business.” You say, already walking over to change it. Set it to 23 degrees, or whatever.

Joe doesn’t need to know how you embellished how serious you’d been with this other man. This other someone. He’d only been around for a couple of weeks. A few months at best. Hadn’t even come close to meet any of your family – not even any of your friends, really. Emily had only seen him because she’d dropped by unexpectedly on a random afternoon.

“What did he do that you didn’t like?” Joe peeps his head around the fridge door, quickly adds, “Don’t set it higher than 20.”

“I won’t.” you lie, pushing the little plus button until it says 22 and try your best to ignore Joe’s question.

If there’s one thing you don’t want to do, it’s talk to your ex-boyfriend about this other guy that doesn’t even really deserve that label.

But Joe doesn’t let it go so easily.

“What was the thing that made you convince yourself that this guy wasn’t worth it?”

Oh, ouch.

What the fuck.

From the thermostat you give him a hard stare, one that he truly deserves because look at that stupid smug face, and then you dryly say, “I’m gonna set it to 30.” before furiously pressing that same plus button as quickly as you can.

Joe barks a loud laugh and you manage to get the thermostat up to 25.5 before a whole body grabs hold of yours.

A scuffle breaks out in the middle of Joe’s living room and you kind of love how tightly Joe’s wrapped himself around you. Kind of love how you bend back and forth, and how Joe just bends with you. How you shriek for him to let you go, and how he swears at you under his breath. How instead of letting you go he just holds on tighter. How he breathes in your ear as he squeezes the giggles from your frame. How you get pushed onto the sofa, and then, you kind of love how his face being so close to yours suddenly changes the air somehow.

Joe’s lying right on top of you.

Your noses are nearly touching.

Giggles die out, and with twin smiles, Joe lets his eyes scan your face for a moment.

You swallow thickly and try to ignore how quick your heartbeat’s picking up.

“This warming you up?”

You bite your lip and give your head a little shake as an answer.

“No? You need a little more?”

And this is where you should tell Joe to get off of you.

Where you should walk back over to Joe’s front door and put your coat back on.

Be the adult in the room and tell him it was nice chatting to him but, maybe it’s best if you go home, because you know that if you don’t, you’ll end up naked in his bed with body parts inside of other body parts which have no business being even remotely close to each other with clothes on, let alone without any.

Yet instead, you nod.

You smile and you nod, and it’s all Joe needs to lower his face and to make his lips meet yours.

Joe kisses you and it’s stupidly sensual. He gets your top lip between both of his and pulls away just slightly before he gets your bottom one. You can feel his teeth, and then his tongue, and you’re hesitant for just a moment, but then Joe goes to pull away fully because he wants to say something, but he can’t, because you get your hands on either side of his face and just pull him back in for more.

More.

You need more.

You’ve not been giggling at all Joe’s bad flirting for you to not get more.

Before you know it, you’re not just kissing, but you’re making out, and it’s all tongue and all teeth and hands all over, and it feels like the kiss has broken the seal because suddenly, you want all of it. Everything. His hands everywhere. Your hands everywhere. His mouth all over your body and your mouth tasting all of his.

You want his body parts inside of yours.

Need it.

Right this very second.

“Bed?” Joe gasps with his nose pressed to your jaw, and all you manage to do is give a barely-there nod.

Two arms pull you to sit up. Pull you to stand up. And Joe kisses you again like he just can’t help himself before he goes, “Wait.” and then goes to turn the thermostat down and you can’t help but smack his ass as you walk past and rush into his bedroom.

You’re not doing anything illegal.

You’re single, and it seems like Joe is too, so you’re fine.

It’s even colder in Joe’s bedroom if anyone can believe that, and you audibly shiver as you toe off your shoes which makes Joe laugh as he joins you there, says, “Quick!” and he grabs a corner of his duvet and holds it up for you to climb into his bed.

And you do.

Just get in without second thought.

Hide how you’re a little startled by how much you fucking love the scent of Joe’s bed, because what the fuck, that’s a weird reaction to have to the smell of a bed. But you love Joe’s bed, and love his luxurous down comforter, and love the loud crinkles as it moves, and love the way all of it smells.

What follows is you undressing underneath the covers, throwing pieces of your outfit at Joe who is getting out of his own clothes by the foot of the bed as he catches and dodges whatever you throw at him. It’s a weird dance of fabric and laughter until he jumps and launches himself right onto you. Joe kisses you some more, mouths remembering each other, before he works his way into bed with you.

The skin-to-skin contact heats you up quick enough to make you blush.

And remember how Joe said it was unfair that he ran into you that afternoon?

Well it just so turns out that it’s actually unfair that Joe remembers everything about your body.

That he knows you.

Knows what you like.

He gets his hand around the back of your neck, fingers pushed into those very specific spots as he presses his forehead to yours and does everything else just exactly right.

Exactly how you fucking like it.

It’s unfair that Joe knows exactly what to do, knows that if he touches you right for just long enough, you’ll get into the headspace where you’ll actually push to get your mouth on him. He knows how to get you to be so into it, you’ll just voluntarily disappear underneath his covers. Know how you won’t want to come back up until you’re forcefully pulled back into the cold air where you’ll be kissed until you lose your breath.

God, Joe’s so fucking good at kissing, it makes you want to live in his bed forever. You know you can’t – Joe’s phone keeps buzzing in his jeans that are somewhere on his bedroom floor, but, Jesus, you really fucking want to.

For whatever reason, the buzzing of his phone only adds to the excitement.

It shouldn’t.

But it does.

At least, for about fifteen minutes it does.

Then, the buzzing finally seems to stop. Finishes. And it’s not much later that you do too.

You’re wet with sweat and spit from kisses, skin left tingling and mind blissed out. When you turn your head to look at Joe, he’s lying on his back, catching his breath with his eyes closed and you can’t help the breathy laugh that escapes you.

“Go pee,” Joe says, motioning towards the bathroom with his eyes still closed, and you grin because, Joe knows you.

It’s still really cold in his bedroom, but he’s right, you do have to pee, so you quickly do as you’re told and it’s unfair how you can’t help your stupid grin from spreading when Joe calls, “And hurry up!” after you.

It’s unfair how fast reality finds you. How darting into his bathroom on your own sobers you enough to think, what the fuck am I doing?

It’s unfair how you have to look into the bathroom mirror and tell yourself, you’re not doing anything illegal.

It’s unfair how you don’t really believe it.

It’s unfair that this isn’t only unfair to you, but also to Joe, and probably to whoever else was trying to reach him whilst he had you in his bed.

Unfair that you can’t shake the feeling of how what you’ve just done actually feels incredibly illegal, because a phone only buzzes that much if someone is wanted elsewhere.

When you get back to Joe’s bedroom you see that he’s made no attempt to get his phone, and he’s quick to welcome you back into his coccoon of warmth.

“I probably should leave,” you say, but climb back into bed anyway.

It makes sense that Joe is wanted elsewhere. Makes sense that he probably isn’t actually single at the minute. That there’s someone.

Joe isn’t yours, you have to remind yourself. And if you are honest, you don’t even really know if you want him to be.

“Yea probably…” Joe trailed off, reaching arms over to pull you into his side. “But I’m not done with you yet. C’mere.”

But you do know you feel far too comfortable to resist his cuddling.

“Joe, you’ve got someone waiti–”

“Shh.”

He pulls until you are laying right on top of him, both his arms holding you exactly where he wants you. You want to make a joke, a snide comment, remind him of how cuddling used to be too much of a task. But then he says,

“She can wait.”

She.

Definitely not single, then.

Somehow, that feels good and bad at once. Good because that means this was just a quick thing that would remain just that, like it had before. Bad because that still stings.

Joe is seeing someone.

Someone else.

Joe is out there holding hands with someone else, laughing at someone else’s jokes, looking into someone else’s eyes and kissing someone else’s lips.

Joe is kissing someone else on the mouth.

Fuck.

It has been so long, and yet that still stings, even though you don’t want to let it sting you. You have to find a way to stop letting it sting you. Getting with someone else, with Jasper whose name wasn’t fucking Jasper, clearly hadn’t helped enough.

It feels silly how you’re simultaneously judging yourself so hard whilst also trying to justify feeling a certain type of way because, listen, you’re only human after all, aren’t you? It’s obvious that some things are going to affect you. Makes sense that you don’t love the idea of Joe holding someone else to his chest the way he’s holding you to his chest right now.

Those feelings are allowed.

But the flipside of that is that, if you don’t want to feel bad about something, if you don’t want to actively judge yourself, then maybe you shouldn’t have gone home with this guy so easily, you know?

He didn’t even have to try to get you to go with him. 

You just... went.

So this is kind of your own fault, isn’t it?

“Hey,” Joe suddenly whispers. “I can feel you think. Stop milling.”

You quickly pull your fingers from the edge of the duvet cover where you thumbnail was scratchig along the fabric.

Unfair that Joe knows you.

But sort of perfect that he does...

Shit.

“Feel this?” Joe doesn’t move his arms, but slowly curls his fingers where his hands cover your sides and makes his nails trail along your bare skin.

“Mhm.”

“Focus on that. You’re better in your body.”

You scoff a little, huff a breath through your nose that Joe feels just below his collarbone, and softly ask, “Rather than my brain, you mean?”

“Absolutely.”

“You’re such a dick.”

“Shh. Go to sleep.”

In a criminal act, Joe kisses you on the forehead and makes you melt. Stupid how a forehead kiss makes your eyes roll back more than all the other things he’d done to you just now.

It’s real hard work to pull yourself back down to earth. To not let yourself marinate in this fucked up soup that the two of you have willingly gotten yourself into.

You clear your throat a little and hoarsely say, “I can’t stay over.”

“Hmm. I think you’ll find that you have no other choice.”

“Joe.”

“Just stay for a little bit.” Joe holds you a little tighter, “Just a little bit longer.” and slurs his words a little slower. Then he moves a hand and places it right where he knows it’ll render you fucking useless.

Unfair.

“Joe.”

“Shh. Later. Sleep now.”

And, fine. You’ll marinate. Who are you trying to fool?

It was all something for later.

You’re drifting off already, comfortable and warm, Joe’s familiar touch way too gentle and nice not to let sleep take over.

With Joe’s fingers softly tickling the skin of your side, his other rubbing circles into the dip on the back of your neck, and his slow and steady breath in your hair, you decide to forget everything else for now.

The heating was off, but you were warm.

Everything else was something for later.

---

The Taglisted

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add yourself

[planetpedri]

i need more of your pedri stories pls 🥹 they are my guilty pleasure atm!! can i get sth where they are not dating but in like a joined friend group? and they are always like very close and touchy and all their friends tease them because they all know that they like each other? <3

Kind of (type of way) — Pedri Gonzalez.

Pairing: Pedri Gonzalez x Fem!Reader

Summary: Everyone seems to know how Pedri and you feel about each other, except for you two. And who were they if they didn’t point it out all the time?

Word count: 719

Disclaimer/s: fluff + teasing!

A/N: idek what to say except im soooo. 😭 sorry these are taking me so long! I’ve been super busy lately!! Needed this after their fucking LOSS yesterday. 😒

“Well, yeah no that’s not going to work.” You scrunch your eyebrows as you examine the contents on the table. “You got everything except the actual main ingredients, such as chocolate chips.”

Your friend purses her lips, “oh. See I knew I was forgetting something..” She rubs the back of her neck, “okay, well.. so like—“

“Hey guys! So, no cookies for today! Sarah forgot to grab the chocolate chips.” You give a tight lipped smile, rounding the table to find the rest of your friends in the living room.

A chorus of groans erupt throughout the room, heads tilting back in disappointment. “I’m sorry! It’s not even my fault—“

Laughing lightly, you plop down onto the open seat beside Pedri, shooting him a quick grin as his arm loops around your shoulder. Subconsciously, you lean into his touch, shifting to find a more comfortable position.

It had always been like this. You near Pedri and him pulling you closer. You always tried to avoid thinking too hard on the way your stomach tightened at the gesture. You couldn’t allow yourself to think that way. He is your best friend.

But nobody else seemed to get that memo. Their lips tugging into grins as they watch Pedri’s fingers rub delicate little patterns into your exposed arm. The faintest hint of a smile he held every time you were in hid vicinity. The way it grew every time you looked in his direction before quickly looking away.

It was very noticeable to everyone around how you two felt about each other.

“Geez, pull her any closer why don’t you.” Gavi quips, earning daggers from the boy beside him. You’d barely registered what he was saying before Pedri’s mouth opened.

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes, though his grip loosens around you anyways.

Oookay.. awkward! Now everyone was really looking at you two. Eye’s rolling to the back of your head, you brace yourself for the roll in’s of everyone’s input.

Laughter emits from the rest of the group, “clutching onto her like she’s going to leave him for another man. She’s all yours big bro.” Your younger brother grins proudly at his own joke, which you did not enjoy.

It was one thing for your friends to point it out, but when it came from your younger brother.. “isn’t it past your bedtime?” You scowl, eyes flickering to the clock that read; 9:37 PM.

Alex’s smile falters. “Very funny.”

“No, can we actually talk about how insane this is? Like, if I didn’t know you guys, i’d assume you were dating. That’s so not normal.” Sarah points in your direction, motioning between the two of you.

Pedri, now finding it amusing how your face flushed so deeply, so prominently, it was hard not to notice. “Chill out, they are just messing with us.” His arm bend, using his hand to ruffle your hair.

Not. Helping.

“Yeah, yeah.” You huff, perching your legs up on the coffee table as you lean back into his side. Your friends share knowing looks but drop the teasing for your sake.

The topics change, but your mind is stuck on Sarah’s words. ‘It’s not normal.’ And it wasn’t. Nothing about the way you two acted was normal.

Pedri, sensing your mood shift instantly, watched your face grow more and more confused. Your eyebrows tugging together, your tongue pressing out your lips as they pulled together, your slow blinking.

“Hey?” He shakes your arm once, squeezing it lightly to gain your attention.

Just like that, you snap out of it. Eyes snapping towards him and lips forming a small smile. “Yeah?”

“They’re just teasing… don’t let it get under your skin.” He assures you, smile matching your own, if not brighter. His eyes dart around your face, trying to catch a stray wrinkle that would tell him what you were thinking.

The small look of worry that flashes across his face made your heart thump. “Teasing. Right.” You nod, using your hand to give Pedri’s, that was rubbing your arm, a small squeeze.

In that moment, something changed in Pedri’s eyes. Something about the way he was looking at you… it was different. Yet it told you all you needed to.

It wasn’t wrong to like him, love him, because he loved you right back.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby @gadriezmannsgirl !

[jenn-ieverse]

ⵌ ❝ BOYNEXTDOOR IMAGINE ꒱

❞﹒🧶﹒ⵌ ! idol¡boynextdoor hyungline X

fem¡reader﹚˃˂ ⵌ 𑇢

One of the staffs asks who you are in relation to the member and you say 'just a friend' when you are actually their girlfriend. Their reactions below!

Myung Jae Hyun « 명재현 »

You recall how Jaehyun wanted to eat tuna gimbap when he was at your place last night but you were out of tuna. You smile at the lunch box in your hand as you walk into the HYBE building planning to drop off his lunch before going on your way to university. You take a seat in the waiting area and were about to pull out your phone to text him when you notice him walk out of the elevator with a middle aged man. As soon as he passes the security gate, you walk up to him. “Jae!” his eyes widen with surprise, his face breaks out in a smile, “Y/N, fancy seeing you here.” before you could say anything the man interrupts, “Who's she?” Jaehyun looks like he's been waiting to answer this question his whole life but you speak before he does.

“Neighborhood friend.” you respond quickly, “Here.” you place the lunch bag in his hands, “Auntie asked me to drop this to you.” the frowns at your actions, “Hyung, can you give me a minute?” he asks the man and the other nods, excusing both of you. “What's wrong?” he sighs at your question. “Really Y/N? It took me so many years to get out of the friend zone and you threw me back into it?” he pouts annoyed. “It's not like that Jae, I just don't want you to get into any trouble.” you ruffle his hair. “I appreciate the concern but I'd much rather have everyone know...” he pauses, “This beautiful woman right here is my girlfriend!” yells out loud catching you off guard. Every person on the ground floor was now looking at both of you. You look around in shock before looking back at your boyfriend, the moment your eyes meet, both of you burst out laughing.

Park Sung Ho « 박성호 »

Sungho had purposely came to the café where you were working part time, with some of his staff members. For the past hour both of you have been sneaking looks at each other every now and then. Finally when it time for the group to leave, Sungho comes up to the counter to grab the go to coffee for his group members. “Hi babe.” he leans over the counter, “Don't make it obvious Sungho.” you chuckle at his smitten smile while looking around carefully. “Don't make what obvious? That I am in love with you?” his words make you gasp, earning a laugh from him. “Okay Romeo, calm down, there are people here.” you continue pouring coffee into the plastic tumblers.

“What's taking you so long?” one of the staff members approach the counter and notice you and Sungho conversing. “Is she a fan?” he asked Sungho, “No she's my-” you cut Sungho off. “Friend, school friends.” you respond in his place. “Oh I see. That's why you come to this café often?” the staff pats Sungho in the back and walks back to the table. Sungho stands there awfully quiet and deep in thought until he has to leave. You hand over the coffee tumblers and eventually the group of staffs along with Sungho leaves the café. You realize that he must be bothered by your response earlier. Sungho is not the type to have impulsive outburst of reactions he is a more rational person so he might be feeling conflicted on the inside.

After your shift is over, you walk outside only to see Sungho waiting for you. “Y/N” he quickly jogs up to you. “Look I kept thinking about what you said earlier.” just as you had thought, your remark did bother him, “I realized that too Sungho, I am sorry for down playing our relationship, I just-” he cups your face in his palms. “You don't have to apologize, I know you were trying to be cautious and I appreciate it but at the same time I felt a little hurt, we are so much more that just friends, right?” he scans your face for a reaction. You offer him a soft smile, feeling comfort the warmth of gis hands around your face. “Of course we are. You are the love of my life, Romeo.” you tease him with the incident earlier. Luckily he smiles and leans in to press a kiss on your lips.

Lee Sang Hyuk « 이상혁 »

You wait for Riwoo outside the KBS office, he supposedly had a meeting, your college campus was nearby so both of you decide to meet up and get something to eat. “Y/N!” You smile when you see Riwoo jogging up to you excitedly, he engulfs you in a hug as you press your face against his chest. “I missed you.” he smiles at your words, “I missed you more.” he says pulling away. “What should we eat?” you asked excitedly, still holding onto his hand and swinging it back and forth. “Kalguksu?” Riwoo suggests, you notice a woman approaching both of you so you quickly let go of his hand leaving him confused.

Riwoo follows your gaze and finally notices the woman, “PD noona.” the woman greets Riwoo. “You left your script inside.” she hands over bunch of clipped papers to Riwoo, “Ah! Thank you.” Riwoo responds gratefully. “And this is?” she turns to you with a smile, Riwoo waits for you to reply. “Friend, I am his friend.” you say with an awkward smile. “My girlfriend actually.” Riwoo intertwines his hands with yours as you look at him surprised. “It is so? Both of you look so cute together.” the woman compliments before turning to Riwoo. “See you at set.” she says before bidding her goodbye and walking away. You look at him nervously, waiting for him to express how disappointed he is at your response. “Kalguksu?” he asks instead, your worries go away and you smile. “Kalguksu it is.” he leans in to press a kiss on your forehead. “I love you girlfriend.” his emphasis on the word girlfriend makes you laugh. “I love you too, boyfriend.”

୨ ₊ ┈ ⪩⪨   ┈ ₊ ୧

A/N :- It's my first imagine ever also not proofread because I am severely sleep deprived. Reblog and likes are appreciated! Comment if you want me to make a maknae line x reader too! Also if you have any other imagine ideas that you want me to write, you can send it to me through mailbox!

[eunseoksimp]

Entangled; Jung Sungchan

made this on a whim after an excessive amount of listens to house of balloons by the weekend.

Pairings: Boxer!Jung Sungchan x Girlfriend!Reader

Genre: angst

Description: the relationship between you and sungchan is a tumultuous storm, a volatile mix of passion and pain, bound by an intense love that is as toxic as it is profound. sungchan, an underground fighter, using the ring as an outlet for his inner demons and you, clinging to him as you seek solace from your own unhealed wounds. two broken pieces clinging to each other in a toxic dance of dependency and desperation.

Warning: use of swear words, brief mention of substance abuse and alcoholism.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

sungchan shows up at your house, eyes bloodshot, knuckles bruised, and that signature smile of his, the one that always made your heart flutter despite the chaos it signified. but now it only brings a sigh to your lips. you sigh, not even wanting to know what kind of trouble he got into this time, simply opening the door wider, allowing him to lean into your side as you guide him into your dimly lit apartment. the weight of his body against yours feels both familiar and burdensome, like an old, tattered blanket that you can’t seem to discard.

you sway all the way into your bedroom, his weight heavy against you until you stumble into your bedroom. he looks at you for a second, as if trying to see if you would allow him to jump onto your bed the way he is. his gaze is a silent question, but he knows how much you hate outside clothes touching your covers. with a shake of your head and the best shot of a disapproving look, he clicks his tongue but nevertheless shrugs his jacket off of his shoulders, obeying your rules. his jacket lands on the floor with a soft thud, a harbinger of the troubles he brought with him.

you watch as he clicks the clasp off his watch, slipping it off his wrist in one swift move and placing it on your dressing table. there's a practiced grace in his movements, a dance you've witnessed countless times. he reaches one hand from behind him to grab the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head, ruffling his hair before it’s discarded on the floor. you’ve seen him many times in this state, his top always coming off first because he knew you liked to peek at his muscles. his body, a canvas of old scars and fresh bruises that littered the expanse of his back, speaks of a history written in pain and conflict.

‘want me to give you a little strip show?’  he teases, fingers brushing against the buckle of his belt, his eyebrow quirking up before he relaxes it. his voice, tinged with a playful mockery, is an echo of better days when his teasing would have made you laugh. now, it only deepens the chasm of despair between you.

‘hurry up and get into bed. It’s cold,’ you reply, your voice betraying a weariness that matches the dim light of the room. the cold isn’t just physical; it’s an ever-present chill in the air, a manifestation of the emotional void that has grown between you.

he obeys, giving you a two-fingered salute and a boyish grin before unbuckling his belt and slipping out of his jeans, leaving them in a crumpled heap on the floor. his body, though battered, still carries an allure that tugs at your heartstrings. you turn away, not wanting to let your gaze linger too long on the marks of his latest escapade, the reminders of a life he refuses to abandon.

sliding under the covers, he pulls you close, his arms wrapping around you with a desperate intensity. you nestle into his chest, inhaling the scent of sweat and faint cologne, a mixture that has become a bittersweet comfort. his heartbeat, steady but troubled, is a metronome to the silent symphony of your shared sorrow.

you both lie there, staring at the ceiling, the dim light casting shadows that dance around the room like ghosts of your past. His arm drapes over your waist, pulling you closer. you can feel the tension in his body, the unspoken pain he's trying to hide.

‘rough night?’ you ask softly, your fingers tracing the contours of his bruised knuckles.

‘you could say that,’ he murmurs, his voice thick with exhaustion. ‘but it’s better now. i’m here with you.’

you close your eyes, wanting to believe his words, to find solace in the illusion that everything is normal. but the truth is inescapable: you are both prisoners of a toxic love, bound together by pain and passion. his presence, once a source of joy, has become a reminder of the endless cycle of hurt and reconciliation.

it was impossible, for two broken people to try and mend each other’s hearts, and yet here you both were. sungchan engaged with underground boxing to keep his demons at bay, to control the anger that burned deep inside him to the ring alone. and you continued to be with a man whose habits of danger and thrill-seeking often left you in sorrow, the possessiveness he felt over you seeming like love due to the poor examples of it you had as a model.

‘ i wish you’d stop doing this to yourself,’ you whisper, your voice breaking. ‘to us.’

he sighs, a sound heavy with resignation. he doesn’t respond immediately. instead, he tightens his grip on you, as if holding on to you can keep him from falling apart.

 ‘i can’t change who i am. and you... you can’t seem to let go of me, even though you know it’s killing you.’

the words hang in the air, a bitter truth that neither of you can deny. you cling to each other, seeking warmth in the cold emptiness of your relationship.  you stay because you can’t let go, because the pain has become a part of you, a twisted proof of your connection.

 his hands, rough and calloused, move gently over your back, a gesture that once brought comfort but now feels like a plea for forgiveness. you shift slightly, turning to face him. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the mask he wears slips away. you see the vulnerability, the hurt, and the longing. it’s a mirror of your own soul, reflecting back all the things you’ve tried to hide.

‘maybe we’re just broken,’ you say, your voice barely audible. ‘maybe this is all we deserve.’

sungchan tightens his grip on you, as if trying to hold together the fragile pieces of your shattered love. 

‘maybe. but i’d rather be broken with you than whole without you,’ he closes his eyes, a pained expression crossing his face as his voice slightly cracks.

tears sting your eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the pain you both carry. his words, though meant to be comforting, only deepen the wound. you lie there in the darkness, listening to the rhythmic sound of his breathing, each inhale and exhale a reminder of the life you’ve built on a foundation of hurt.

he pulls you closer and there’s a desperate hunger in his kiss, a need to reassure both of you that this is real, that this is worth the pain. his lips are rough against yours, his hands clutching at you like a drowning man grasping for a lifeline. you respond with equal fervor, pouring all your confusion and heartache into the kiss, hoping to find some semblance of solace.

but the solace never comes. instead, you’re left with a hollow ache, a reminder of how broken you both are. you pull away, breathless, and bury your face in his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. it’s a rhythm you’ve come to rely on, a reminder that despite everything, you’re still here, still together.

in the quiet of the night, the apartment feels like a mausoleum, a resting place for the ghosts of your past. the dim light casts shadows on the walls, flickering images of the dreams you once shared, now distorted by the harsh reality of your love. the bed, once a sanctuary, has become a battleground where you both fight to hold on to something that is slipping away.

‘i love you,’ he whispers, pulling you out of your thoughts, his voice filled with a desperate sincerity. it’s a declaration that should bring joy, but instead, it feels like a dagger to your heart.

‘i love you too,’ you reply, the words tasting of ash. love, for you both, has become synonymous with pain, a beautiful lie that you can’t help but cling to.

sungchan’s voice, when he speaks again, was filled with a bittersweet mixture of resignation and affection. ‘we’re a mess, aren’t we?’ he said with a rueful chuckle, the sound tinged with a sadness that mirrored the shadows on the walls.

‘yeah,’ you agreed, a sad smile playing on your lips. but we’re our mess.’ your words hung in the air, a delicate thread of understanding that connected you both in your shared chaos.

he sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of his internal battles, and pulled you closer. ‘i don’t know what I’d do without you,’he confessed, his voice cracking with vulnerability. 

‘you’d survive,’ you said softly, your voice a gentle balm to his wounded soul. ‘you always do.’ you traced the lines of his face with your fingers, each touch a silent vow of your love and commitment.

‘but I don’t want to just survive,’ he replied, his voice filled with a longing that tugged at your heart. ‘i want to live, to really live, and I don’t know how to do that without you.’ 

You don’t know how to respond to that. Instead, you just hold him tighter, as if that could somehow make everything better. But deep down, you both know it won’t. You’re stuck in a cycle of love and pain, unable to break free but unwilling to let go.

as the night stretches on, you drift into a restless sleep, haunted by dreams of what could have been. in your dreams, you see a life where love doesn’t hurt, where his eyes aren’t bloodshot and his knuckles aren’t bruised. but when you wake, the reality is unyielding, a stark reminder that you are trapped in a cycle of your own making.

morning comes, casting a pale light over the room and you watch as the sun slowly rises, bringing with it a new day. but there’s no sense of renewal, no promise of a fresh start. it’s just another day in the endless cycle you’ve found yourselves trapped in.

 he stirs beside you, his movements slow and deliberate. you watch as he sits up, his back to you, the weight of his actions evident in the slump of his shoulders.

‘i’m sorry,’ he says, finally breaking the silence, not turning to look at you. the words, though heartfelt, feel like a cruel joke. sorry isn’t enough to heal the wounds, to erase the nights of pain and the days of longing.

‘i know,” you reply, your voice devoid of emotion. it’s a conversation you’ve had countless times, each one a repetition of the same hollow promises.

he stands, reaching for his discarded clothes, the bed feeling colder and emptier without him, ironically mirroring the effect he seemed to have on your life. you watch in silence as he dresses, the familiar routine a painful reminder of the transient nature of your moments together. when he’s fully clothed, he turns to you, his eyes pleading for understanding.

‘will you be okay?’ he asks, the question heavy with unspoken fears.

‘i always am,’ you lie, forcing a smile. it's a lie you both choose to believe because the truth is too painful to face.

he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. ‘i’ll be back tonight.’

you nod, knowing that the cycle will continue, that tonight will bring the same mix of joy and despair. as he leaves, the apartment feels even colder, the silence a deafening reminder of your solitude.

you sit there for a long time, staring at the door he walked through, wondering if there will ever come a day when you can let go. the love you share is a beautiful poison, one that you can’t seem to quit, even though you know it’s slowly killing you both. the echoes of your conversations linger in the air, a haunting reminder of the love and pain you share.

you finally get up, moving through the motions of your morning routine. but everything feels hollow, your heart heavy with the weight of your relationship. you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, seeing the tired eyes and the lines of worry etched into your face.

you think about the love you have for him, the way it consumes you. it’s a love that’s both beautiful and destructive, a force that binds you together even as it tears you apart. you wonder if things will ever change, if you’ll ever find the strength to let go.

but for now, you’re stuck in this endless loop, holding on to each other because the alternative is too terrifying to consider. you find a twisted comfort in the pain, a sense of normalcy in the chaos. it’s not healthy, but it’s all you’ve ever known.

you go about your day, trying to push the thoughts of him to the back of your mind. but he’s always there, a constant presence in your heart and mind. you can’t escape him, can’t escape the love you have for him, no matter how much it hurts.

as the day turns to night, you find yourself back in your apartment, the loneliness weighing heavily on you. you lie in bed, staring at the empty space beside you, waiting for him to come back to you, just like he promised. you know he’ll be back, that you’ll repeat the same cycle again. and despite everything, you find a strange comfort in that.

the living room is bathed in the soft, flickering light of a lone lamp, casting elongated shadows that stretch and wane across the walls. the clock on the mantle ticks away, each second echoing through the silence, a metronome marking the passage of time. you sit on the edge of the couch, a book in hand, its pages unread as your eyes repeatedly drift to the front door. the weight of anticipation hangs heavy in the air, a tangible presence that presses down on your chest.

outside, the night is alive with the distant hum of traffic and the occasional burst of laughter from passersby. it contrasts starkly with the oppressive quiet of the apartment, where the silence seems almost accusatory, reminding you of the countless nights spent in similar fashion. your phone lies beside you on the coffee table, screen dark and unbothered by any messages or calls. you don't bother picking it up to check; you already know.

the hours pass slowly, each one a reminder of your solitude, and yet he doesn’t return. it used to make your heart leap, bad thoughts circling your mind as you think about all the terrible situations he might have gotten in to. but you knew him too well now. you knew all too well that it just meant he was engaging in another night of his hedonistic pleasures, probably because he won his fight, surrounded by alcohol and loud music whilst consuming substances that he knew wasn’t good for him.

it wasn’t that you thought he would cheat, in fact that was the least of your worries. it was all just unhealthy, being wrapped up in a life of substance-fueled debauchery and distractions, a cry for help and it brings a bitter taste to your mouth. you’ve been here before, and the script always plays out the same.

you glance at the clock again—11:30 pm. each minute feels like an hour, and the realization slowly settles over you like a cold, damp blanket. he’s not coming home tonight. the knowledge seeps into your bones, a familiar ache that you've grown accustomed to. there's no anger left, no fiery resentment. just a dull, throbbing disappointment that pulses in rhythm with your heartbeat.

with a heavy sigh, you rise from the couch. the room feels larger in his absence, the silence more pronounced. you make your way to the bedroom, the soft thud of your footsteps the only sound accompanying you.

you slip under the covers, the cool fabric a stark contrast to the warmth you long for. the ceiling stares back at you, an expanse of darkness dotted with the faint glow of the streetlights filtering through the blinds. memories of happier times flood your mind, unbidden and unwelcomed as you try to push them away, focusing instead on the present, on the reality of your situation.

the phone remains silent on the nightstand but you don’t reach for it. there’s no point. instead, you close your eyes, willing sleep to come and take you away from the disappointment, if only for a few hours.

you finally drift off to sleep, your dreams filled with images of him. in your dreams, things are different. there’s no pain, no conflict. just love, pure and simple.but dreams are just that – dreams. the reality is much harsher, much more complicated. you wake up to the same emptiness, the same ache in your heart and you know that nothing will change, that you’re trapped in this toxic dance with no end in sight.

the next night arrives, and with it, the familiar sound of a brisk knock on the door. you know who  it is as you fiddle with your locks; sungchan, with bloodshot eyes and bruised knuckles, his signature smile plastered across his face and you feel the familiar pull in your chest. he’s your addiction, the one thing you can’t quit even though you know it’s destroying you. he steps into your embrace, and for a moment, you forget the pain, lose yourself in the illusion of love.

but deep down, you know that this isn’t sustainable, that one day the weight of your combined sorrows will crush you both. until then, you continue to cling to each other, finding fleeting moments of solace in the midst of your shared suffering.

the smell of alcohol wafts in with him, mingling with the night air, and you know immediately that he’s drunk. his steps are unsteady, yet his grin is wide, a mask that hides the weariness and turmoil beneath.

‘i’m sorry about last night,’  he slurs, leaning heavily against the doorframe and you’re pulled back into your reality. 

‘got caught up in the moment. the partying, the fun... i didn’t want to disturb you, you hate when i drink, but i’m really trying.’

you stand there, feeling the weight of his words press down on you, each one a reminder of the empty hours you spent waiting. but anger is a luxury you can't afford anymore. instead, you focus on the task at hand, channeling your energy into taking care of him. 

with gentle hands you guide him to your bathroom, peeling off the heavy leather jacket that clings to him, the one he cherishes so much. it smells of smoke and sweat, a testament to the night he’s had. next, you work on his jeans, the ones he wears like a second skin, stained and frayed from countless nights like these.

he tries to kiss you, his breath hot and sour against your cheek and his arms, though unsteady, reach for you, seeking solace in your embrace. but you turn your head, dodging his attempts at affection. each dodge feels like a small betrayal to your heart, which still beats for him despite everything. resentment tugs at your heartstrings, a discordant melody that drowns out the love you still feel. why couldn’t he be a normal boyfriend? someone who showed up when he promised, who took you out more, who came home more. someone who didn’t burden you with the weight of his absences and the chaos he brought with him.

‘let’s get you to bed,’ you murmur after helping him wash up and change into new clothes, hoping that sleep would sober him up as you take his hand and lead him to your room. he stumbles along, his laughter a hollow echo in the small space. you keep your touch gentle but firm, your heart a fortress against the flood of emotions threatening to spill over. 

once he’s settled under the covers, you sit on the edge of the bed, watching him. his eyes flutter closed, a sigh escaping his lips, the bruises on his knuckles standing out starkly against his pale skin, a silent testament to the battles he fights, both inside and out. you reach out, your fingers brushing against the bruises, feeling the rough texture of broken skin.

the words you long to say choke you, each one a thorn you bury deep within. you love him—god, how you love him—but you’re tired. tired of the waiting, of the disappointment, of the endless cycle of highs and lows. you swallow hard, pushing the bitterness down, burying it beneath layers of resignation and care.

he mumbles something incoherent, his hand reaching out to find yours. you let him take it, feeling the warmth of his grip, the way his fingers curl around yours. in this moment, despite everything, you still find a small piece of solace. because even though he’s broken, and even though he breaks you a little more each time, you still love him. and that love, for now, is enough to keep you here.

as the night wears on, you lie in bed together, his arms around you, your heart is heavy with unspoken words and unfulfilled wishes, holding on to the fragile hope that somehow, love will be enough to save you. but in the silence, you both know the truth: love, in its purest form, is supposed to heal, not hurt. and yet, you choose to remain, bound by a toxic devotion that neither of you can escape.

in the end, the saddest part isn’t the pain or the bruises or the tears. it’s the realization that you’ve mistaken suffering for love, that you’ve built a life on a foundation of hurt. and as you drift into another restless sleep, you can’t help but wonder if there will ever come a day when you can truly let go.

you can’t help but wonder if there will ever come a time when he chooses you over the chaos.

morning light filters through the thin curtains, casting a soft, muted glow across the room. you wake up first, as always, lying in silent resignation as you watch sungchan sleep. his face is a picture of peace, a stark contrast to the turmoil of the previous night. you trace the contours of his face with your eyes, noting the faint lines of exhaustion and the bruises that mar his knuckles. there’s a fleeting moment of tenderness as you remember why you fell in love with him, but it’s quickly overshadowed by the weight of disappointment.

eventually, he stirs, eyes fluttering open, confusion swimming in his irises. his gaze darts around the room until recognition dawns, and you see the realization settle in. he doesn’t remember much, but he knows he messed up. T

the room is enveloped in a heavy silence, the kind that presses down on you, making it hard to breathe. you both look at each other, hearts too heavy to speak. he knows you’re tired of his apologies, and you’re tired of demanding them. the unspoken understanding hangs between you, thick and suffocating.

guilt gnaws at him, and you watch as he chews on his chapped bottom lip, a habit that betrays his inner turmoil. you furiously pick at the dead skin around your nails, needing a distraction, something to focus on other than the pain in your heart.

‘i’m—” he starts, his voice cracking.

‘don’t,’ you cut him off, your voice low but firm. ‘just don’t.’

he looks down, his shoulders slumping as the weight of his actions settles over him. ‘i’m sorry,’ he whispers, unable to stop himself.

your jaw tightens, and you shake your head, slipping out from under the covers, the floor cold against your bare feet as you make your way to the living room, the weight of his gaze following you. he scrambles after you, pathetically, desperately trying to make amends with gestures instead of words. he hugs you from behind, his arms wrapping around you with a familiar warmth, and places a kiss on the crown of your head. the tenderness of the moment is almost painful, a reminder of what you once had and what’s slowly slipping away.

‘please,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice thick with regret. ‘i’ll do better. i promise.”

‘you always promise,’ you reply, your voice barely above a whisper as you step out of his arms. ‘but nothing changes.’

he disappears into the bedroom with a sigh, leaving you standing there, a storm of emotions swirling within you. when he re-emerges, he’s wearing some of his old clothes he must have found in your cupboard. the sight of him in those familiar clothes stirs something in you, a bittersweet ache that tugs at your heart.

‘can we at least talk about it later?’ he asks, his eyes pleading, drawing close to you again, littering you with kisses down your neck.

you nod, not trusting yourself to speak. the words you want to say are lodged in your throat, too painful to voice. ‘fine,’ you manage to get out.

‘we’ll talk later, i promise we will,’ he says again, the words hanging in the air like a promise and a burden. then with one more kiss to your cheek, and a lingering look filled with pleading he’s gone, the door closing softly behind him.

you stand in the middle of the living room, feeling the emptiness settle around you. the silence is deafening, filled with all the things you wish you could say but can’t. you sink into the couch, pulling a blanket around you as if it could shield you from the reality of your situation. the ache in your heart is a constant, a reminder of the struggle between your love for him and the pain he causes you. and as the morning light grows brighter, you can't help but wonder how many more mornings like this you can endure before you break.

the cycle continues, the pain and the love intertwined in a never-ending dance. and you hold on, because it’s all you know, because letting go is too terrifying to consider.

you find yourselves in each other’s arms, seeking comfort in the familiarity of your pain. you whisper words of love and apology, trying to mend the broken pieces of your hearts. but it’s never enough. the wounds run too deep, the scars too numerous.

as the days turn into weeks, then months, the pattern remains unchanged. you both cling to each other, desperate and afraid, but unable to break free. the world outside your apartment moves on, but inside, time stands still. each day blurs into the next, a monotonous loop of fleeting highs and devastating lows.

one particularly stormy evening, as you sit alone in your apartment, the rain beating against the windows like a relentless drum, the stormy night outside mirrors the turmoil inside your heart. you hear a knock at the door and your heart leaps in your chest, a mixture of dread and anticipation coursing through your veins. you already know who it is before you even open the door.

he stands there, soaked to the bone, his hair plastered to his forehead, and that familiar, weary smile on his lips. his eyes are red-rimmed, and there’s a fresh cut above his eyebrow. you don’t ask what happened; you stopped asking a long time ago. instead, you step aside, letting him in, the warmth of your apartment a stark contrast to the cold, wet world outside.

you lead him to the bedroom, your hands gently guiding him, and he follows without protest. the routine is familiar, almost comforting in its predictability. he sheds his wet clothes, the fabric pooling on the floor like the remnants of a forgotten promise and you hand him a towel, watching as he dries off and slips into a pair of sweatpants. 

his bare feet pad softly on the carpet as he approaches the bed, a vulnerable warrior seeking solace. you pull back the covers, and he slips beneath them, the warmth of his body mingling with yours. the familiar scent of him, a mix of cologne, sweat, and something uniquely his, envelops you. you lie side by side, the silence between you thick, a palpable presence that neither of you can ignore.

you reach out, your fingers tracing the bruises on his knuckles, each one a dark bloom of pain. he winces slightly but doesn’t pull away, letting you touch the evidence of his inner demons. you know his battles are as much with himself as they are with the world outside.

‘i wish things could be different,’ you say, your voice barely audible in the darkness.

‘so do i. i wish i was a better person, for you,’he replies, his breath warm against your neck.

but wishing is not enough, you both know that. the cycle will continue, a never-ending loop of love and pain, of passion and despair. you are both prisoners of your own making, trapped in a love that is as toxic as it is intoxicating.

‘you don’t have to do this,” you say after a while, your heart aching with a mixture of love and frustration. ‘you don’t have to fight. you don’t have to drown your problems with alcohol or burn all of your battles.’

he turns his head to look at you, his eyes dark and stormy. ‘and what about you? you think I don’t see the hurt in your eyes? we’re both fighting, in our own ways.’

you close your eyes, the truth of his words cutting deep. you’re both prisoners of this toxic dance, unwilling to let go even as it tears you apart. love, you’ve come to believe, is supposed to hurt. the illusion that everything is normal, that this is how it’s meant to be, is a comforting lie you both cling to.

‘i hate seeing you like this,’ you admit, your voice trembling.

he reaches out, his hand cupping your cheek. ‘i hate it too,’ he says softly, his thumb brushing away a tear. ‘but I can’t stop. and neither can you.’

the words hang in the air, a bitter acknowledgment of your shared fate. he leans in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that is both tender and desperate, a silent plea for connection amidst the chaos. you respond, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. the kiss deepens, a fiery exchange that speaks of longing and regret, of passion and pain.

you break apart, breathless and trembling. ‘stay,’ you whisper, your voice a fragile thread.

‘ i will,’ he replies, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that borders on obsession. ‘i always do.’

the storm outside rages on, mirroring the tempest within your souls. you know this is a temporary reprieve, a fleeting moment of peace in a sea of turmoil. but for now, it is enough.

the wind howls through the cracks in the windows, a mournful song that underscores the fragility of your peace. you hold each other tighter, as if by sheer force of will you can keep the storm at bay. his breath is warm against your neck, a stark contrast to the cold dread that gnaws at your heart. you can feel the steady thump of his heartbeat, a rhythmic reminder of the life you’ve built together, even as it threatens to crumble.

in the quiet moments, between the whispers and the kisses, you catch glimpses of the man you fell in love with—the man who makes you laugh, who holds you when you cry, who promises you the world even as he stumbles through his own battles. those glimpses are what keep you tethered, what make the pain bearable. they are the fleeting moments of sunlight breaking through the storm clouds, offering a ray of hope that things might one day be different.

but as dawn approaches, the reality of your situation settles back in. the night has given you a reprieve, but the problems remain, lurking in the corners of your mind, waiting for the light of day to bring them back into sharp focus. you know that the cycle will continue, that the highs will be followed by lows, that the love you share will be tested time and again.

the first light of morning seeps through the curtains and you know the illusion is about to shatter. he will leave again, drawn back to the battles he fights, and you will remain, your heart aching with the emptiness his absence leaves behind.

he turns to you, his expression unreadable. ‘take care,’ his words are a hollow echo of what you both wish could be.

‘you too,’ you reply, your voice thick with unshed tears.

he leaves, the door closing behind him with a soft click and you lie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, the weight of your reality pressing down on you. the silence is deafening, the emptiness a stark reminder of the void in your heart.

because in this twisted dance of love and pain, you have found a perverse sense of belonging. you have convinced yourself that this is what love is meant to be, that the hurt is a necessary part of the equation. and as long as he keeps coming back, you will continue to believe the lie.

for now, you cling to the moments of tenderness, the fleeting glimpses of happiness that punctuate the darkness. you tell yourself that it is enough, that this is all you deserve. when you lie alone in the dim light of your bedroom, you whisper a silent prayer to a god you no longer believe in, hoping for a miracle that will never come.

the pattern of your lives becomes a relentless cycle, a vicious circle you cannot break free from. each time he leaves, the void he leaves behind grows deeper, the ache in your heart more pronounced. and yet, when he returns, battered and broken, you welcome him with open arms, unable to resist the pull he has over you.

[yenqa]

night secrets

sypnosis — in which the two of you reveal your deepest secrets to the other in the middle of the night.

warnings — profanity, hurt/comfort, angst, crying, mentions of bruises/injuries, lmk if theres more!

pairing — spiderman!niki x gn!reader

wordcount — 1590

a/n — happy bday niki!! sunghoon work coming soon guys i swear

The shine of the moon peers through your window, lightly illuminating Riki’s soft expression looking at you. You two are tangled together on your bed, facing each other.

His hair is slightly ruffled, and you can tell he’s tired just by his eyes. The room is silent, the only noise being the infinite white noise of the fan tucked onto your bedside table.

You can feel a chunk of your hair lifted, being felt by Riki’s gentle hand, he softly combs through it—untangling each knot that you had made while laying down.

He treats each strand as if he’s strumming a guitar, replaying the same chord over and over again until moving to the next.

It almost feels surreal, you’ve been hopelessly in love with this man for years and now you’re lying next to him. You lift your hand to his cheek, brushing it slightly—making sure that he isn’t some illusion your mind made up.

You let out a breathy smile on your face, admiring his sharp features that make your boyfriend.

Fate had a play in your lives. If that attack hadn’t happened during your first year of highschool you wouldn’t have been next to Niki right now, three or four years later.

Though fate had also made you trip over yourself in the hallway yesterday, fate has also placed Niki beside you to catch you. Fate was a scary thing to think of, how is it that everything happens for a reason? As crazy as it is, you would have wished for your life to go any other way.

It’s quiet in your room, but not an awkward silence. In Fact you enjoy it—but something inside you compels you to voice your thoughts to him.

Staring at his face, you try to imagine how he’d react to your thoughts, a few hours ago—when you were both wide awake he would’ve laughed and made some corny joke about it. But it’s different now. The moon’s out and the darkened sky makes you more vulnerable than ever.

“Is there something on your mind?” He asks, pausing his hair combing.

You’re not even sure your voice works after keeping silent for what felt like a couple centuries, but you answer anyways, “It’s nothing, keep brushing my hair, please?”

He chuckles quietly and you can feel the slight vibration in his chest, “Nothing? You’ve been staring at me weird for the past minute.”

“Promise you won’t judge me?” You hold up your pinky finger, though you can barely see it, you feel his arm shuffle to interlock with yours.

“Okay um—this sounds really corny but I’ve liked you since forever. I know I told you I started liking you last year because of that one time that villain came to our school and you protected me then went to help others but—I’ve liked you since seventh grade, and It feels so—so crazy that I’m laying in bed next to you right now, y’know?”

Everything you say sounds so rushed out in your world, but in Riki’s it feels like time is slowed, seventh grade? Even when he was a total loser who wore neon shorts to school? Even though he comes to school—or even to your home with bruises and injuries everywhere that taint his reflection in the mirror?

“You’re being so quiet—Why are you being so quiet?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, and Niki can’t help but showcase a big grin.

“I didn’t know you were so in love with me” His hand moves to teasingly pinch your cheek, ignoring the scowl on your face.

Ah. This was the reaction you should’ve expected.

Annoyed, you turn your body around to face the wall, but he grabs your waist, turning you around to face him once again.

“I love you too, Y/n. Sometimes I feel as if I don’t deserve you with everything I’ve done.”

You squint at him, trying to make out whatever flaw he thinks he has, “What do you mean “everything I’ve done”? If being the perfect boyfriend is everything then I think that you’re perfectly up to standard?”

His mouth opens slightly, as if he has a secret that’s dying to come out, one that seems to fight his way to his thoughts.

“Y/n, I have a secret for you too.”

Shuffling in your position, you look up at him with curious eyes. “What is it? I won’t laugh or tease you I promise.”

He sits up, and you follow. He ruffles his hair slightly, as if trying to get rid of his nerves. You grab his hand softly, playing with it to calm whatever nerves he has.

A sigh leaves his mouth, “I am uh—I’m Spiderman.”

His voice is shaky, as if it was caught in his throat and he had just forced it out. But—you can’t tell if he’s being serious, I mean it’s not like you knew Spiderman personally so you couldn’t really compare and contrast.

Though Niki was always a jokester, you decided that not believing him was the safer option. “Ki—that’s not funny. I thought we were being serious.” You furrow your brows, unable to read his face.

“I’m not joking! Look—”

White webs emerge from Niki’s wrist, shooting straight into your wall. You let out a gasp, tightening your grip on his wrist to find any evidence of a prank. You look at him with your mouth still as he patiently lets you search his arm for any evidence of silly string or something.

“Niki, if you’re joking I swear I’m going to fucking kill you.”

His hands raised in surrender, “I just showed you my webs! I also have my suit in my bag, I carry it everywhere with me.” He points to his duffle bag in the corner of your room which conveniently has a glimpse of red sticking out of it, squinting, you swear you can see the black design.

“And that night when that super villain came!” He frantically adds, “I left not to go help other people—but change into my suit so I could get rid of him!”

Your body is frozen, internally clicking the pieces together. All of the sudden, you know why he randomly appears with bruises or injuries or if he leaves in the middle of something important and comes back out of breath.

“Are you serious?”

“I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

Your mind scrapes through everything you thought of him ever, unable to even comprehend that your friendly neighborhood spider man was just a teenage boy. Specifically the one standing right in front of you.

More importantly, you’ve seen the things people have done to spiderman. Publicly shaming him or even just getting tossed around by villains. And instead of getting a thanks from the city and some kind of prize, he’s judged for making a mess while saving your city.

Your mouth lays open slightly, unable to even think of the mistreatment he’s been getting, the amount of help he needs but can’t get without hurting anyone, the amount—

“Can you say something other than are you joking? Or are you serious, please?” His words are similar to yours just a minute ago, there are words you’d want to hear, and words you wouldn’t. There's an obvious decision you make.

Ignoring his plea, you envelope him in a hug, tucking his head in between your head and your shoulder. Letting him sit comfortably for a few seconds. The words barely come out of you, “I’m so proud of you.”

“What?” His words are muffled, he’s confused. But it comes out in a soft tone, almost fragile. You lean back, cupping his face in your hands.

“You’ve gone through so much with no help at all. I mean—you’re just a boy. And you’ve saved the city what—at least five times and you don’t get any credit for it at all. You come home with injuries every day because you’re busy saving everybody's asses—”

He leans back into you, dampness fills your shoulder as his body starts to tremble. You panic, lightly rubbing his back. “Fuck—I’m sorry, please don’t cry. I love you and I’m proud of you—please don’t cry.”

Your words only evoke more cries, until he’s full on sobbing on your shoulder. Every few seconds he sniffles.

Unsure of what to do, you whisper sweet words into his ears, letting him cry out all his worries as you continue to do your best to console him. Though your shirt will surely have a huge wet spot on your shoulder, you have hundreds of more to wear.

You couldn’t ever imagine what it would be like to be Spiderman. Having to be responsible for saving the city at least every week, having to come home limping and not being able to tell anyone why or even getting the appropriate help. Having to lie to your loved ones to protect them.

You couldn’t imagine ever having to go through the suffering he goes through, just to have to do it again the next week.

So, you continue to stay still. He cries until he runs out of tears, you softly lift his face to face yours, placing a soft kiss on his lips before tucking him into bed, whispering a soft “I love you, and I��m so proud of you, Niki.” you lay down next to him, intertwining your fingers and succumbing to your own drowsiness.

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