#<- its implied so it counts…💗

[angelwishess]

Kyra’s obliviousness knows no bounds

[beneathashadytree]

A TASTE OF HONEY - SYLUS QIN X READER

Warnings : insecurities & body image issues, chubby & curvy!reader, mentions of stretch marks, body worship, praise kink, marking, very mild breast & nipple play, implied cunnilingus, reader is AFAB and uses she/her pronouns!

Genre : smut n loooots of comfort☹️🫶🏽

Word count : 1.4K words

Additional notes : This was a paid commission I made of a lovely OC with Sylus, and this version is just the slightly more non-specific version I took permission from my commissioner to post, so that all fem!readers can see what my commissions are like! If you’re interested let me know💗

Commissions are open here!

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Masterlist

“Another event, another dress with your name on it, sweetie.” Sylus’ grin as he walked into their bedroom would’ve almost been infectious, had her mood been entirely different than it currently was. Right now, though? His words seemed to have cast a curse onto her.

She had to fight against her growing irritation. It’s not his fault, he didn’t do anything to deserve it—unlike the majority of the times he’d earned her ire. This time, the dismayed feeling in her chest at the sight of the exquisite dress draped onto the back of the dresser’s chair was entirely because of her own racing thoughts.

“Skipping out tonight,” she simply mumbled under her breath, collapsing onto the bed with weary bones and an exhausted expression like she’d run a hundred miles. And she really had, just inside her head.

Sylus—ever perceptive Sylus—frowned at that, taking a seat at the edge of the bed beside her. “Tired?” Concern filled his eyes, and it only grew worse as she seemed to curl in on herself and burrow deeper into the mattress. “I could cancel.”

With a sigh, she shook her head “You’re Onychinus’ leader. You have to be there. My moods shouldn’t dictate whether or not you go.”

“You have the privilege of commanding me to do whatever you want. I say you abuse that right.” It was clear from his teasing tone that he was trying to get a lighthearted reaction from her, and upon receiving none, his voice turned softer. “Seriously, what’s wrong, darling?”

Her grip tightened on the bedsheet, blinking back the tears as she trained her gaze on her fingers. “I just… don’t want to wear that dress.”

Sylus was silent for a few moments, before he nodded. “Okay. Is it not to your liking?”

“Not really.” With a shuddering breath, she sniffled a little, trying to calm herself down as Sylus’ hand gently stroked her calves in a soothing motion. There was no point in getting so worked up after all, it’s always been the same. “Those types of dresses always show my stretch marks. They’re… kind of short. And tight. And weird-looking on me.”

Screw not getting worked up; her tears were dripping down her face at this point, her vision blurry and her heart heavy with each word that spilled forth. “It feels like every single one of these outfits makes my thighs look big, and my body’s not made for wearing them. It’s just… wrong, like I’m unworthy,” she choked on the last word in despair.

She could hear Sylus sighing, a twinge of sadness she’d never heard before lacing his words. “You couldn’t be more wrong.” Firm in tone, yet not unkind, her boyfriend leaned in and rubbed her forearms gently, making sure to meet her watery eyes as he did. “These dresses only show just how breathtaking you are, and how you belong by my side.” A crooked grin made its way on his face. “If anything, it feels like I have to earn my place next to you.”

“No! You—”

“See how absurd it sounds?” His deep voice was soft as he gently nudged her on her back, climbing in on top of her as his fingers delicately brushed back her hair. “I can never get enough of you. Of every inch of you. I almost refuse to believe you.” His gaze grew impossibly softer, voice even quieter, and his hand even gentler as it traced down her ear, rhythmically stroking at her neck. “But I know that really is what you’ve driven yourself to believe. And I can’t blame you for that.”

Wiping at her own cheeks, she tried her best to make herself feel less sorry. “It’s no one’s fault but mine. It’s not like anyone else has been telling these things to me.” What on earth was she doing, crying to him over dresses? Or her appearance at some stupid events? Or was it simply her body? She didn’t know at this point. All she knew was that she wanted to stop feeling so distraught over something so…

Before she could continue that train of thought, Sylus had silenced her rushing brain with a slow, open-mouthed kiss and a steady grip on her waist. Even now, he was ever the tease, nipping at her lower lip and huffing out a fond laugh as he heard her breath hitch, before pulling back. In half-defeat, he said, “Maybe I’m the one to blame for neglecting to remind you of what I think of you.”

He peppered kisses down her jaw and to her neck, his teeth grazing and sucking at the warm skin there. With a hiss, her hand reached out to pull him closer by the back of his head, and all he could breathe out against her was a stilted, “How often I think of you.” Practiced hands almost blindly pulled down the strap of her silk slip for more access, as he left his bold marks across her neck. His hair tickled her, but she reveled in the feeling even more as he traced a path down the top of her breasts.

They were heaving with the effort of having to pretend she wasn’t falling apart at the seams with his mere touch, and he let out a half-groan as his hand reached out to cup one, while he sucked more hickeys onto the flushed skin of the other. It was too much, but somehow not enough to ease the growing ache between her legs. “Sy,” she whispered, a plea in his name, quickly turning into a whimper of pleasure as his tongue boldly flicked at her nipple through the silk. “Don’t be cruel.”

“Mm. I could never. My pretty girl likes it when I indulge her, I know,” he muttered, ruby eyes flicking up to meet hers and pinning her down with just a gaze as he kneaded at her soft breasts through the thin fabric, his touch burning through her like wildfire. “Tell me where you want me. What you want me to do, to show you how I could never stop wanting you and your body.”

Swallowing thickly, her fingers dug into his silvery hair, like it was second nature, guiding him where she needed him the most. “Want your lips on me, please,” she whispered, as if it were explanation enough for the sudden dizzying heat of the room, and her eyes swimming with unwrought desire. “Tell me you want me like this. I… I need it. Need you.”

The chuckle that spilled from Sylus’ lips was lovesick, and then his large palms pushed her smooth slip up to her waist and expertly tugged down the ruined lacy underwear. “As if I could stop wanting someone so divine.” He sweetly kissed her navel, then completely diverted from his path for a second to squeeze at her thighs, hooking them up on his broad shoulders.

Even between her legs, he looked invincible—more so when he maintained their intense, passion-riddled eye contact as he suckled at the skin of her inner thighs. “So sweet, so perfect right in front of me,” he sighed, almost in just as much pleasure as she was while he brushed his thumb back and forth near the apex of her thighs, mapping out every stretch mark under his adoring touch, and giving her hips a firm squeeze as his hands wandered everywhere they could reach.

Her head was filled with cotton, all her senses consumed by him and all he was. “I can spell out just what you want me to say with my tongue instead.” The very prospect of it sent even more molten heat pooling to her core. Sylus’ tongue would be her undoing. She knew it, her body knew it, and his grin that turned wicked meant that he could see perfectly well just how dripping wet the idea made her.

That smirk was almost predatory; like she was his prey, all prepped and prettily pinned for him. It shouldn’t have aroused her so badly, knowing that he’d torture her with sheer blinding pleasure and a sinful tongue, and yet she could feel herself clench around nothing. He was her undoing, and always would be, especially when his voice was such a low purr. “And you can ride my face until you can translate every filthy word. What do you say, sweetie?”

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[seokminfilm]

stars in your eyes — lee seokmin

PAIRING 𐂴 lee seokmin x reader

TAGS & WARNINGS 𐂴 non-idol au, short, no plot, fluff, implied friends to lovers, physical touching, seokmin secretly admires you, soft seokmin hours are back

SUMMARY 𐂴 you and two seokmin were just two lost stars trying to light up the dark.

LYR'S SIDENOTES 𐂴 felt like writing something cutesy for seokmin so here we are!! i've been listening to the song 'clocks' by coldplay on repeat recently so this fic is supposed to be inspired by it!! its also inspired by dk's cover of 'lost stars' by adam levine 😭 hope you all enjoy!

(edit: we're one follower away from 600 so i'm just going to say my thanks ahead of time!! thank you all for the love and support 💗you all are the reason i keep writing)

NOW PLAYING 𐂴 clocks (coldplay)

WORD COUNT 433 𐂴 FOR @kstrucknet

seokmin could see the stars in your eyes.

he could see every speck, reflecting softly in your pretty eyes as you stared at the pitch-black sky. each star seemed to have its own life in your eyes as you scanned the never-ending horizon with wonder, and seokmin made a mental note about how you made even stars pale with how bright you shined.

"you're studying me like i'm a star or something," your voice is light as you thread your fingers through the cold grass under you. seokmin is smiling from ear to ear, a light blush dusting his cheek as he shrugs.

"you are a star though. to me, anyways." seokmin adds quickly, brown eyes crinkling at the corners as he notices how warm your laugh sounds when it lilts and tilts, mixing in with the summer night breeze.

if this is what love felt like, seokmin wanted you to be able to feel it too.

"can i hold your hand?" seokmin's eyes are on yours before you can open your mouth to speak, and all of your thoughts fly out the window before you can answer the question. your heart seems to slow down, beats coming minute by minute as the world freezes around you.

seokmin's already drawing towards you, inches away from your face as he tucks a piece of loose hair behind your ear. the feeling of his finger lightly tracing your ear feels different, and you nod, letting seokmin's warm hand engulf yours as the two of you sit silently.

"you know, i've wanted this for a long time."

seokmin's voice is so soft you can barely believe it's him, and he sets his camera down on the grass, making the move to scoot closer to you. his warm cologne washes over you the second he moves, and you can smell it in his hair as he turns to you.

"you have?" you ask simply, too enamored in the way seokmin's looking at you. "i have."

"i've wanted to hold your hand and tell you how much i love you for god knows how long." seokmin's eyes go from your blushing face to your hand in the grass, and your heart flutters at the sight.

"i'm glad you did," you say softly, smiling at seokmin before you bury your face into your jacket.

even though it's silent between you two, you can tell something has changed; seokmin's grip on your hand feels more sure now, and you can lean your head on seokmin's shoulder with a clear conscience as the two of you stare up at the sky.

[loveriotss]

Hii! Could you do some Mr.Compress headcanons pls? Tysmm! 💗

HCS OF HIM AS YOUR BOYFRIEND ⸻ atsuhiro sako / mr compress

INCLUDES — gn! reader, fluff, headcannons, drabbles/one shots WARNINGS — reader is implied to be part of the lov/lives together with the

main masterlist — mha masterlist ༊*·˚

he lovess bragging about you to the other members.

literally will not shut up!!

atsuhiro leaned back in his chair, a smug smile on his lips as he sipped his drink. across from him, sat twice who looked like he was being held hostage. "you wouldn't believe the day i've had," atsuhiro began, his eyes sparkling. "y/n cooked for me today! it was so remarkable and exquisite! they made this-" "listen man," twice interrupted, trying to put on a pleasant expression. "i'm really happy for you and i love that you enjoy your time with y/n! but..how long are you planning to keep talking about them? it's been like almost 4 hours."

dates with him are always unique and memorable. private magic shows, picnics in scenic spots or romantic candle lit dinners in secret places.

a HUGE gift giver!

he will go all out! oh you were eyeing a pair of cute shoes today? he stealthily compressed it and presented it to you proudly. or maybe you had to reluctantly leave a cute giant teddy bear behind at that one shop...only to find out that the marble atsuhiro left on your desk was actually the teddy bear!

yeah he's technically stealing them instead of buying but its the thought that counts! (he is a villian after all, what can you expect?)

he's not afraid to show you his love openly.

expect grand declarations of love, like surprise dates or writing you countless romantic letters as if he were a lovesick teenager.

the other lov members are sick and jealous of you two.

he always respects your personal space and boundaries and makes sure you don't get overwhelmed by his dramatic personality.

as much as he is confident and flashy in public, he's incredibly affectionate and sweet in private.

late night cuddle sessions while you two talk for hours on end, comfortable in each other's arms. honestly, that's his favorite part of the day.

he can be a bit possessive, but not in an oppressive way.

usually more dramatic and pouty when he's jealous, making the situation more silly than serious.

in the dim glow of your room, atsuhiro sulked dramatically on the edge of your bed. you were completely engrossed in your book, sitting with your back pressed against the headboard of your bed. "do you know," atsuhiro began, letting out a melodramatic sigh, "how dreadfully overlooked and unimportant i feel at this moment?" you glanced up, an eyebrow raised. "oh really? and what is that supposed to mean?". atsuhiro shifted, leaning forward with an exaggerated pout. "well, it's not everyday one finds themselves overshadowed by a book of all things." you giggled softly, setting the book aside. "aww are you jealous of a book?" "jealous?" he scoffed, "whatever made you think such a thing? i simply can't bear to see my amazing presence overshadowed by..pages. that's all!" "alright, oh great one, i apologize for this disastrous behavior of mine. please forgive me" you reply, matching his tone playfully. his pout softened into a smile, the dramatic flair melting into warmth. "well, perhaps if you could indulge me with a bit more attention, i may consider forgiving you." "yes yes, my attention is now all yours." you reply, wrapping your arms around him as you place a soft kiss on the top of his head.

NOTE — omg i can finally make posts with the asks!! it used to glitch for some reason before when id try to make longer posts with it 😭. anyways i kinda giggled while writing this ugh im so delusional 🤭🤭. also added two drabbles/one shots (idk what to call it) just becauseee. sorry if this might seem a bit ooc, i referred solely to google to get an idea of his personality because honestly i dont rmb shit of what he said or did in the anime 🧍.

©loveriotss — all rights reserved to me. please don’t try to copy/steal my work. please do not use any of my ideas/translate my work without my permission.

[luffyvace]

Hello, could I request Feitan with a reader who looks innocent and angelic usually but is actually just as sick and sadistic as he is? (Aka it's like a secondary persona kind of)

And she's also part of an organization(that kills people) without him knowing (she was part of it even before meeting him)

Ouuuu an interesting reader we have here~

Seeing as though all the feitan gifs are generic fighting ones I’ve put my own picture :) I think it’s hilarious 😂

enjoy your headcanons lovely anon! 💗

(fem! reader implied bc you used ‘she’ in your request but I won’t imply female body just in case)

Feitan getting with an angelic and innocent s/o is certainly an oxymoron

Your such a sweetheart, so thoughtful and kind

you always try to help and encourage others as much as you can

:)

But in reality no?? really your such a sick and twisted sadist who loves watching every moment of others suffering???

welp that went down the drain quickly

feitan might have picked up on the fact that it was all an act or your slightly sadistic tendencies

especially since he’s highly observant

Though I’m not sure how you revealed your in a organization or if you knew he was in the troupe but it probably went like

”your in a criminal organization? Oh…me too” 🧍‍♀️

“Wait what?” 🧍‍♀️

“so we’re both in criminal organizations of the sort?”

🧍‍♀️ 🧍‍♀️

well I guess its all out in the open now

as soon as he figures out your a sadist tho

its on

torture sessions become even more frequent seeing as though he now has someone to enjoy it with

he finds it rather fun to have someone laugh manically with him and not call him a loony 🤓

he’s grateful even

the victims really range from anyone off the street

to enemies from either of your organizations

maybe even someone who gave you a hard time

(they simply bumped into you, you apologized like the “sweet” person you are, but they had no idea what was coming for em that night)

(for fei, they probably mocked him)

you and feitan either have a dedicated torture room or have turned you basement/attic into one

and it definitely has a lock on it

feitan will recommend you some books and you likely do the same for him

(by some i mean you have a whole library shelf—who are you fooling 🤨)

you two make as much time for each other as you can

which yes torturing together counts as quality time

and y’all see it as a sense of normalcy too

wherever y’all stay you just be like

”hey wanna have a quick torture session then find something to eat for dinner?”

like it’s like going about normal daily activities for you two

it also feels good to have someone that gets you from the outside

like your both dangerous criminals,

that likely grew up in harsh conditions

(bc i mean come on mass murders have triggers/motivs they don’t just do things for no reason)

and now you have someone from outside your organization that gets you!

like, they even like torturing just like you!!

best s/o feitan could wish for

as time goes on you two would find out why you joined the organizations you did and if you genuinely enjoy it, just doing it for the money, etc

no matter the reasons or time, you accept each other :)

this also appeals more trustworthy to feitan!! Since your in one yourself, you can’t sell out feitan without selling out yourself!

😋

but…that could go downhill..

for example, your organization could be trying to target feitan/the troupe and is making you use him to get to them

As time goes on he shakes away the thought, it’s probably been years (when feitan’s down, he’s down for the count, he doesn’t do flings, in my hcs) since you’ve been together so he wants to trust you

basically the further things go in with you two, the more he trusts you

of course you have to make sure to give him reasons to trust you and don’t give him any reason not to

he’ll start getting suspicious of you even on the first slip up

(if it happens)

he has to protect the spider, there’s no way he can let it fall because of him

orrrr!!!

your organizations could meet! And form a alliance that may or may not be temporary/strictly business!!

it would be fun seeing all members together drinking and wrecking havoc!!

right?!

😊

LOL just imagine your all casually talking about such violent and socially unacceptable crimes 🤪

especially you and feitan

you guys are so silly

just a silly little group of friends :)

planning to commits fiendish acts together<3

honestly I like the last scenario the best

its so silly :P

I’m glad to see more feitan stans on my page!! thank you for requesting, hopefully you enjoyed!

💖

[b-writessometimes]

Sick John Constantine w/ GN. Reader - Headcanons

Warnings: None, other than slight OOC John Constantine?  But idgaf.  It’s fanfiction.  Emphasis on the fiction part.  I originally wrote this while i was suffering from a cold so bear with me. 🙏

[word count: 861]

This man has two momentums he swings to when being under the weather.  We start off with his knee-jerk reaction:

Phase 1: Denial.

You know those people who claim they're 'not sick' while having a tissue box shoved up their noses?  That's him.  

I mean, he already regularly coughs up a lung due to his smoking habits, so in his own warped perception, having a cold is no different.

A large part of it is a pride thing.  After all he's the same guy who's gone up against demons, gods, and countless supernatural threats.  You think he's going to slow down just on account of some silly little thing like an illness?

John's denial shatters however once he hits a high fever.  By then he holes himself up wherever he's staying for the week and spends a whole day in bed with used tissues scattered throughout and a whole jug of water nearby.  (gross)

There’s some real cosmic irony to be found in the acclaimed 'Hellblazer' who tricked the devil himself, now reduced to a sweaty and half coherent mess because of some germs.

And thus we enter our next stage.  This is where you, our dear Reader comes in.  Knowing that John has the self preservation of a hamster, you take it upon yourself to check up on him.

Phase 2: Acceptance.

I fully believe that first this man will act all high and mighty insisting 'he doesn't need a babysitter' yada yada.  He'll grumble and make the usual sarcastic remark about you sticking around and babying him when in fact you’re trying to y'know, actually help him.  

But man's is real quick to shut up once you force give him some soup to drink and some genuine care.  (a sip of sopa de pollo is more powerful than any magic spell he could brew up, i swear-)

Little did you know, you've unknowingly unleashed a demon.

He's going to milk his newfound 'poor sick patient' status to its limits.  Will ask for anything and everything: some ice cold water, an extra pillow, the damn remote, random chores to be done, etc. 

I'm also convinced he would try to continue smoking his cigs even whilst sick, so you had to hide them like how parents hide treats in the pantry so that their kids don't scarf them down whole.

Aside from the whole ordeal, deep down the warlock does have to admit it was...oddly nice having someone take care of him.  Most folks just barely tolerate him on a good day, so having someone willingly watch over his sorry ass was a refreshing feeling.  And he really is grateful for your company even if he was being a complete twat during it all (he was).

If John had a high enough fever he might mumble out something akin to those lines, but when he gets better the following day he'll deny ever saying so till the cows come home.

Like we get it, you’re emotionally repressed/ lack emotional intimacy.  Just say you appreciated our help.

Bonus - Romantic-geared Headcanons 💗 (implied relationship).

So much worse.  If that were possible.  Also cue all the comments about you playing 'doctor' and him being the patient in this kinky role play you devised.  Whether you go along is up to you.

Will be even more whiny the more comfortable he is around you.  So if John acts like a big clingy cat, at least you know your relationship is something solid.

Seems like the type to enjoy, or in this case; need, his head in your lap while you scratch his scalp (likely dandruff infested but anyways-)  

Still tries to flirt with you when sick.  I don't think delivering lines with a hoarse voice and watery eyes is anyone's bread and butter, but you never know.

Gets pouty if you refuse to kiss him.  Like any sane human would refrain from.  Yes you've likely kissed him whilst he was covered in some demon's blood before, but not while he was sneezing all over the place and wheezy to the point of sounding like a broken squeaker toy with crusty lips.

But also will 100% make some smart comment if you do willingly kiss him while he's under the weather.  So there really is no winning here.

I don't think he's much for TV, but at this rate you can basically put on anything and he'll be weirdly invested in it.  Which to clarify, doesn't mean he'll enjoy it, just be very opinionated on everything happening on screen.

Gives you a little gift when all is said and done.  Nothing over the top or sentimental.  Not his style.  Instead when you find a little doodle of your favorite animal, graphite sketch torn out of some notebook depicting your favorite animal, you already know who it’s from despite the lack of artist signature.

I saw a headcanon floating around somewhere of John drawing in his down time and now I’m taking it and running it down to the ground with me

Is willingly to return the favor and 'play nurse' with you next time whenever you get ill.  To be expanded upon in a future post.  Probably.

[planet-marz1]

Is It Over Now?

Summary: Still reeling from Joel's revelation, you find solace in someone new. Pairing: Joel x F!Reader Word Count: ~7.1k

Tags/Warnings:18+MDNI no use of y/n, jackson!joel, established relationship, angst, somewhat? happy ending, infidelity, joel just kinda sucks honestly,alcohol consumption, implied smut (not with joel), lots of joel tears, pet names (sweetheart), jealousy, insecurities, self doubt, reader is in her healing era, reader slaps a bitch (it's deserved, I swear)

A/N: Hi! This is the second, and final part of this series, though I have a few more drabbles & oneshots planned to write and post. This is dedicated to my love @kajashe 💗 and thank you to my beloved @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for beta reading this for me! and yet another thank you to all of my friends who listened to me ramble on about this for the past several days in discord 💜

beautiful dividers by @/saradika

follow my fic updates blog @planetmarz1-notifs

| part i | series masterlist | main masterlist |

The passing weeks were a blur of emotional turmoil and quiet introspection. The once-familiar routines of life felt like a distant memory, replaced by a persistent ache that accompanied every moment of solitude. Your days were marked by the slow process of healing, a journey undertaken one painful step at a time.

Joel had respected your request for space, retreating to the refuge of his brother Tommy's home. The absence of his presence in your shared space only served as a constant reminder of the void that had opened up in your life. Jackson carried on with its daily rhythm, oblivious to the personal upheaval that had unfolded within its walls.

Nights were the hardest. The quiet darkness seemed to amplify the echoes of the past, and sleep became an elusive visitor. The couch where you had waited for Joel that fateful night became a throne of solitude, the cushions bearing silent witness to the nights spent wrestling with the fragments of a broken heart.

In moments of vulnerability, you allowed yourself to revisit the memories of the life you had built together. Photographs adorned the walls, frozen moments in time that now carried the weight of bittersweet nostalgia. The laughter, the shared dreams, and the quiet moments of connection—all now tainted by the knowledge of his betrayal.

The settlement's whispers reached your ears—a mix of sympathy, curiosity, and the well-intentioned attempts of friends trying to fill the void left by Joel's absence. Their concern was palpable, but the wounds were still fresh, the healing a slow and arduous process.

Alone in the quiet living room, the remnants of your shattered relationship lingered like ghosts in the air. The moon cast a cold glow through the window, illuminating the space where the truth had been laid bare. The weight of Joel's confession hung heavy in the room, and you were left grappling with a mix of emotions that threatened to consume you.

You sat on the couch, staring into the darkness outside, your mind racing to make sense of the betrayal. Every corner of the room seemed to echo with the whispers of the life you thought you knew, now tainted by the harsh reality of Joel's infidelity.

The silence was deafening, broken only by the distant sounds of the settlement outside. You replayed the moments leading up to this revelation, searching for signs you might have missed, clues that could have prepared you for the storm that had now engulfed your relationship.

The ache in your chest deepened, and you could feel the hot prickle of tears threatening to spill over. Anguish, betrayal, and confusion mingled in a tumultuous storm within you. You wanted answers, an explanation that could somehow make sense of the wreckage now surrounding you.

The clock on the wall ticked away the seconds, marking the passage of time in a world that suddenly felt unfamiliar. As you sat there in the quiet, you wondered how the foundation of your life had crumbled so swiftly, like sand slipping through your fingers.

Outside, the settlement continued its slumber, blissfully unaware of the personal cataclysm unfolding within your home. You needed time to process the truth, to navigate the emotional minefield that now lay before you.

The door creaked open, and Joel stepped back into the room, his eyes filled with regret. The air tensed as he hesitated, unsure of his place in this shattered reality. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice heavy with the weight of the words.

You looked up, your eyes meeting his. The distance between you felt insurmountable, a vast chasm that had opened up in the wake of his betrayal. "I need time to figure this out," you said, your voice steady despite the tempest of emotions within you.

Joel nodded, a silent acknowledgment of the consequences he had brought upon himself. As he left the room again, the door closing softly behind him, you were left alone with the wreckage of a love that had weathered countless storms, only to be undone by the tempest within.

So here you are now, at the Tipsy Bison, with its low hum of conversations and the comforting clink of glasses, served as a temporary escape from the turmoil within. The dimly lit bar offered a semblance of solace, a place to drown the sorrows that had become constant companions.

You sat alone at the bar, nursing a drink, the amber liquid reflecting the flickering candlelight. The weight of recent events lingered, a heavy burden you sought to momentarily cast aside. The soft music in the background provided a melancholic soundtrack to the evening.

As you stared into the depths of your drink, Noah took the seat next to you—a familiar face in the crowd, someone you'd seen around the settlement but never really paid much attention to. His attempts at small talk were met with your usual indifference. In the past, your loyalty to Joel had been unwavering, and the idea of entertaining advances from others never crossed your mind.

Tonight, however, the rules had shifted. The wounds of heartbreak were still raw, and the empty space beside you echoed the absence of a familiar presence. Noah persisted, undeterred by your initial disinterest.

"Rough night?" he asked, a half-smile playing on his lips.

You looked at him, a mixture of exhaustion and pain in your eyes. "You could say that."

Noah nodded, understanding glinting in his eyes. "Sometimes a drink is the only company we've got."

A subtle smile played on your lips as you reciprocated his banter. "Seems like you're here for more than just the drinks."

He chuckled, a warmth in his voice. "Well, it's not every night I get to share the bar with someone as intriguing as you, sweetheart"

The dance of flirtation continued, the bar becoming a stage where you and Noah played out a scene of shared laughter and camaraderie. The soft music provided a backdrop to the banter, a temporary escape from the weight that had settled on your shoulders.

Noah leaned in, his voice a low murmur. "You know, I've seen you around, but we've never really talked. What brings you here tonight?"

You sighed, a moment of vulnerability slipping through. "Just trying to forget for a little while, I guess."

He nodded, his gaze thoughtful. "Sometimes, a little distraction is all we need."

As the night wore on, the boundaries between reality and the fleeting connection blurred. Noah became a temporary ally in a battle against the memories that threatened to engulf you. In the shadows of the Tipsy Bison, you allowed yourself a momentary escape, a reprieve from the heartache that still clung to the edges of your world.

The hours passed in a haze of shared stories and laughter. Noah proved to be an unexpected source of comfort, his presence a balm to the wounds that had yet to fully heal. The Tipsy Bison became a refuge, a sanctuary where, for a brief moment, the weight of heartbreak was lifted.

As the night progressed, Noah's conversation turned more earnest, his gaze holding a sincerity that resonated with you. "You know," he said, his voice softened by the dim ambiance of the bar, "Sometimes it helps to talk about what's going on. You don't have to carry it all alone."

The vulnerability in his words echoed the vulnerability you had been avoiding. The temptation to open up, to share the burden, tugged at the edges of your restraint. "It's just been a tough time," you admitted, a hint of gratitude in your voice.

Noah nodded, his eyes filled with understanding. "I get that. Life has a way of throwing curveballs when we least expect it."

The moment stretched, the connection between you deepening. The bar, once a backdrop for distraction, now felt like a space where two people navigating the complexities of life found common ground.

As the night neared its end, Noah leaned in, his voice a whisper. "I'm not an expert in fixing things, but if you ever need someone to listen, I'm here."

His sincerity resonated, and you nodded appreciatively. "Thank you, Noah. It means more than you know."

The Tipsy Bison, with its flickering lights and the hum of conversations, witnessed a different side of you that night—a side that embraced vulnerability and sought solace in unexpected places. As you parted ways, the weight on your shoulders felt a bit lighter, and the bar's exit became a threshold to a world where healing, though uncertain, seemed a little more attainable.

The night air felt cool as you and Noah stepped out of the bar, the soft glow from the neon sign casting a gentle halo around you. The settlement slept in the quiet darkness, oblivious to the shared moments of connection that had unfolded within the bar's walls.

The walk back to your house was a journey through silent streets, the hushed conversations between you and Noah punctuated by the occasional rustle of leaves in the night breeze. The weight of the evening's revelations lingered, but in Noah's company, it felt less burdensome.

As you approached the front door, you turned to him, a newfound warmth in your eyes. "Do you want to come in? Maybe have another drink?" The invitation hung in the air, a testament to the unexpected bond that had formed between you.

Noah's response was a gentle smile "I'd like that," he said, his voice carrying a sense of genuine camaraderie.

The door opened with a soft creak, and the familiar comfort of your home greeted you both. The living room, once a witness to heartache, now seemed to hold the promise of shared moments and tentative healing.

You settled on the couch, the echoes of the night's laughter still lingering. The air felt charged with the unspoken, a connection that transcended the confines of mere friendship. As you poured another round of drinks, the silence between you felt comfortable, a space where words were unnecessary.

Noah's eyes met yours, and in that shared gaze, there was an understanding that words could not fully capture. The vulnerability of the evening had laid bare the complexities of your heart, and Noah, in his quiet way, seemed to offer a respite from the storm.

As the night unfolded, the connection deepened. Laughter, shared stories, and the gentle ebb and flow of conversation filled the room. In that unexpected companionship, you found solace—a reminder that, even in the aftermath of heartbreak, there were still moments of connection waiting to be discovered.

The time you two had spent together at the bar had been a catalyst for change, and now, in the quietude of your home, you allowed the night to unfold, unsure of where it might lead but grateful for the warmth that had found its way into the cracks of a wounded heart.

The ambiance in the room shifted subtly, the air thickening with a newfound energy that danced between you and Noah. The shared laughter and easy conversation took on a softer note, and the space on the couch seemed to shrink, drawing you both closer.

You caught Noah's gaze lingering, his eyes holding a warmth that went beyond mere camaraderie. The flickering candlelight cast a gentle glow on his features, highlighting the sincerity in his eyes. A charged silence settled between you, one that spoke volumes without the need for words.

As you sipped your drinks, the magnetic pull of the moment intensified. The shared vulnerability of the evening had forged a connection that transcended the ordinary, and in the quietude of the living room, the boundaries between friendship and something more blurred.

Noah's fingers traced absentminded patterns on the rim of his glass, and his gaze met yours with a subtle intensity. The unspoken tension hung in the air, a delicate dance that neither of you seemed eager to disrupt.

The air seemed to hum with anticipation as you leaned in, drawn by an invisible force that defied explanation. The room held its breath, and in that suspended moment, your lips brushed against each other in a gentle, tentative kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as the kiss deepened, the warmth of Noah's touch sending a current of electricity through you. The weight of heartbreak momentarily lifted, replaced by the promise of something new, something uncharted.

You don’t care about anything else but losing yourself in the feeling of being loved even if just for tonight. As the passion between you continues to escalate with each passing second, all thoughts of tomorrow fade away into oblivion leaving only this one perfect moment stretching out endlessly before the two of you like an eternal embrace.

The air in your home was filled with a mix of holiday scents — the piney aroma of the Christmas tree, the faint whiff of cinnamon from the candles scattered around the room. It was Christmas Eve, and the settlement was adorned with festive lights and decorations.

You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of the deep green dress you had chosen for the occasion. Despite the outward festivities, a quiet melancholy clung to you, a reminder of the heartbreak that still lingered beneath the surface.

As you finished getting ready, the soft knock on the door signaled Noah's arrival. His presence, a comforting constant in the weeks that followed that unexpected encounter, had become a source of solace. Tonight, however, the prospect of a Christmas party loomed, and the idea of celebrating seemed to clash with the healing wounds of your past.

Noah entered, a warm smile on his face as he took in your appearance. "You look stunning," he remarked, his eyes reflecting a mixture of admiration and concern.

You managed a small smile in return, the weight of your unspoken thoughts evident in your eyes. "Thanks, Noah. I'm just not sure I'm in the festive mood, you know?"

He approached and gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "I understand. But Maria insisted, and maybe being around people, even for a little while, might help."

Reluctantly, you nodded, acknowledging the truth in his words. Maria had been a steadfast presence in your life, offering support and encouragement as you navigated the aftermath of heartbreak. Tonight's Christmas party was her attempt to bring a glimmer of joy into your world.

Together, you and Noah made your way through the decorated streets toward the town center. The settlement buzzed with festive energy — laughter, music, and the scent of holiday treats wafting through the air. As you approached the venue, the warm glow of lights spilled from the windows, casting a welcoming glow.

The Christmas Eve party in town was in full swing, with the warm glow of lights and the spirited energy of the season enveloping the settlement. As you navigated the festive atmosphere with Noah at your side, the subtle shift in your mood was palpable. The healing process was slow, but the comfort of friends and the shared moments of celebration were working their magic.

As you entered the bustling venue, your eyes caught a familiar figure across the room — Joel. Time seemed to freeze for a moment, the shock of seeing him after weeks of absence coursing through your veins. His presence cast a shadow over the festive scene, and the room suddenly felt smaller, the air heavier with unspoken history.

Noah sensed your tension, his grip on your hand tightening in a silent reassurance. "Are you okay?" he asked, concern etched across his face.

You nodded, attempting to mask the surprise that rippled beneath the surface. "Yeah, I just… I didn't expect to see him here."

Noah glanced toward Joel, his expression thoughtful. "Do you want to leave? We can go somewhere quieter."

You considered the offer, but something in you resisted the impulse to retreat. "No, let's stay. I need to face this."

Together, you and Noah approached the gathering. As Joel noticed your presence, his eyes met yours, a mix of surprise and a hint of remorse flickering in his gaze. The air crackled with the unspoken tension of past wounds and unanswered questions.

Maria, ever perceptive, approached, greeting you with an exuberant hug, her eyes filled with warmth and understanding. Her warm smile faltered as she sensed the dynamics at play. "I didn't know he would be here. I'm sorry if this is uncomfortable for you."

You offered a tight smile, the weight of the situation settling around you. "It's okay, Maria. I can handle it."

The party unfolded with the spirited energy of the season — people dancing, laughter filling the air, and the exchange of heartfelt wishes. As you moved through the festivities, Noah's hand found yours, a subtle reassurance in the midst of the crowd.

The night progressed, and despite your initial hesitations, a subtle shift occurred. The music, the laughter, and the shared moments with friends began to chip away at the walls around your heart. The healing process was ongoing, and in the company of those who cared, the weight of heartbreak felt a little lighter.

A moment of stillness settled over the room. In that quiet pause, your eyes met Joel's once more. The unspoken history, the shattered pieces of a relationship, and the complexity of emotions were etched in that shared gaze. Noah's hand found yours again, a grounding force amidst the emotional storm.

As you navigated the remainder of the Christmas party, the unspoken tension with Joel remained, but in the company of friends and the warmth of the season, you found solace. The dance of emotions continued, and as the night unfolded, you carried with you a newfound resilience, a testament to the strength found in facing the unexpected and the hope that lingers in the aftermath of heartbreak.

Amidst the swirl of holiday festivities, your eyes inadvertently caught a glimpse of Veronica across the room. Her presence, unexpected yet inevitable in a close-knit settlement, stirred a complex mix of emotions within you. As she engaged in conversation with others, a subtle ache of self-doubt crept into your thoughts.

What did she have that made Joel cheat on me with her?

The question lingered, not born out of jealousy, but rather a yearning for understanding. The doubts festered like quiet shadows in the corners of your mind, threatening to overshadow the celebratory atmosphere.

Noah sensed the shift in your demeanor, his grip on your hand tightening as a silent gesture of support. "You okay?" he asked, concern etched on his face.

You forced a small smile, attempting to dispel the doubts that threatened to cloud the festive evening. "Yeah, just unexpected seeing her here, you know?"

Noah nodded in understanding, his gaze a reassuring anchor in the sea of emotions. "You're stronger than you think. Remember that."

As you continued to navigate the party, the glimpses of Veronica sparked moments of introspection. The dance of doubt and self-reflection unfolded, but amidst it all, a deeper truth emerged — the strength to confront insecurities and the resilience to rise above the echoes of past heartbreak.

Joel remained on the periphery, a figure in the background of the unfolding drama. The unspoken tension with Veronica echoed the complexities of relationships, and in the midst of the holiday cheer, you found a quiet resolve to focus on the present and the connections that mattered most.

As the party continued, a lingering curiosity pulled you toward Veronica. The desire for closure and understanding overshadowed the self-doubt that had surfaced. The pulsating beat of the Christmas music seemed to align with the tension in the air as you approached Veronica. The crowd hushed in the wake of your confrontation, and even the festive decorations couldn't quite drown out the charged atmosphere.

This is it, you thought, your fists clenched by your sides. Time to confront the source of this mess. "Veronica," you said, your voice edged with a simmering anger. "We need to talk."

She turned, a sly smile playing on her lips. "Well, look who decided to show up. Didn't think I'd see you here."

Hold it together, you reminded yourself, swallowing the initial surge of rage. She's not worth it. Ignoring the jab, you pressed on. "Cut the crap. What happened between you and Joel?"

Veronica chuckled, a snarky glint in her eyes. "Why don't you ask him? I'm sure he's got his version of the story."

Like I haven't already tried, you thought, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. But I want to hear it from her.Your patience wore thin, and a flash of anger ignited. "I'm asking you. What did you think you were doing?"

Veronica rolled her eyes, an unapologetic tone lacing her words. "Oh, please. Don't act clueless in all of this. Joel and I, we had our reasons."

Reasons? The word echoed in your mind, a bitter taste settling on your tongue. The retort stung, and you shot back,"What reasons could there possibly be to betray someone like that?"

Keep her on the defensive, you urged yourself. Make her face the consequences of her actions.

Veronica's smirk persisted, her snarky demeanor unyielding. "Maybe you should ask Joel what he was missing at home."

No. Don't let her deflect the blame. The anger surged again, a tempest threatening to consume reason.

The words hung in the air, a venomous revelation that fueled the anger within. The crowd around you seemed to blur as the confrontation intensified, each word exchanged an arrow that pierced through the facade of festive cheer. 

Everyone knew, you mused bitterly. The whole damn town knew you and Joel were together.

As the exchange reached its peak, the energy between you and Veronica crackled with unresolved emotions. The pulsating beat of the music in the background seemed to align with the tension in the air, the crowd still hushed in the wake of your confrontation. Each word exchanged felt like a seismic tremor, shaking the foundations of the festive atmosphere.

"You're unbelievable," you seethed, the anger boiling over. "I hope you're proud of yourself." Stay strong, you reminded yourself, fighting against the torrent of emotions. You've got this.

Veronica shrugged, a nonchalant expression masking any hint of remorse. "I did what I wanted. Life's too short for regrets."

Regrets, the word echoed in your mind. Is she really that callous? Keep it together, you urged yourself, clenching your fists by your sides. Don't let her see how much she's getting to you.

Noah, sensing the escalating tension, remained by your side, a silent pillar of support. The confrontation with Veronica had become a battleground of emotions, a clash between hurt and defiance.

This is it. The moment of truth.

In a flash, the weight of anger, frustration, and betrayal coalesced into a surge of raw emotion. Without a second thought, your hand connected with Veronica's cheek in a resounding slap. The crowd, which had been observing in a stunned silence, erupted into gasps and whispers.

Veronica stumbled back, her hand on her cheek, eyes wide with a mixture of shock and indignation. The slap reverberated through the room, a cathartic release of the pent-up emotions that had been building since the revelation.

"You deserved that," you declared, your voice steady, though your heart pounded with the intensity of the moment.

As Noah guided you away from the charged atmosphere, the weight of the confrontation lingered. The Christmas party resumed its festive cheer, but the encounter with Veronica had become a defining chapter, a moment where you asserted your strength and reclaimed a sense of control in the aftermath of betrayal.

The brisk night air greeted you as you and Noah stepped out of the lively Christmas party. The settlement was adorned with a soft blanket of snow, and the crunch of each footstep echoed in the quiet winter night. The atmosphere outside was a stark contrast to the charged energy that had filled the party just moments before.

Noah kept a reassuring arm around you as you navigated the snowy path toward your house. The silence between you was a comforting one, a respite from the emotional turbulence of the evening. The distant sounds of laughter from the party gradually faded into the serene stillness of the snowy landscape.

The glow of the settlement's lights reflected off the pristine snow, casting a soft illumination on the familiar path. The events of the night lingered in the air, and as you reached your doorstep, you turned to Noah with a mixture of gratitude and exhaustion.

"Thanks for being there," you said, your voice carrying the weight of the emotions that had unfolded.

Noah nodded, his expression filled with understanding. "Anytime. You handled that with a lot of strength."

You managed a small smile, appreciating his support. "I just want to move forward, you know? Leave all this behind."

The snowflakes continued to fall, adding a sense of serenity to the moment. As you opened the door to your home, the warmth inside offered a stark contrast to the chilly night. The familiar surroundings provided a sense of solace, a haven away from the echoes of the confrontation.

The air in the room felt heavy with unspoken tension as you confronted Joel about his infidelity. The harsh reality of betrayal lingered, casting a shadow over the relationship you had thought was secure.

"Why, Joel?" you demanded, your voice a mix of pain and anger. "Who was it? Who did you cheat on me with?"

Joel hesitated, his eyes avoiding yours for a moment before meeting your gaze with a mixture of regret and guilt. "It was Veronica," he confessed, the weight of the revelation hanging in the air.

Veronica's name echoed in your mind, a face from the town, someone you had known, someone whose presence had been intertwined with your life in the settlement. The shock of the revelation was like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, the room seemed to spin.

"Veronica?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. The name felt like a betrayal in itself, a person who had shared the same space as you, someone you had considered a part of the community.

Joel's expression shifted, a mix of remorse and desperation. "I messed up, It wasn't about her. It was about me, about the mistakes I made."

The words did little to ease the pain, and the room became a battleground of conflicting emotions. Anguish, betrayal, and disbelief swirled within you, a storm of feelings that threatened to overwhelm.

As you absorbed the revelation, the weight of the truth settled. Veronica, a name that had been a mere background detail in the tapestry of your life, now held a significance that cut deep. The confrontation with Joel had peeled back the layers of the facade, revealing a reality you had never anticipated.

In the midst of the emotional maelstrom, you took a step back, needing distance to process the harsh truth. The room, once a sanctuary, felt foreign and unwelcoming. The echoes of the revelation hung in the air, and as Joel sought words of apology, you grappled with the shattered pieces of a relationship that had crumbled in the wake of betrayal.

The weight of that night lingered in your thoughts. Veronica's presence, once a casual detail in the fabric of your life, had become a symbol of a painful chapter in your past. The journey of healing continued, marked by the scars of the confrontation and the resolve to move forward, one step at a time.

The soft murmur of pages turning and the hushed whispers of readers created a peaceful ambiance in the small settlement's library. As the librarian, you were engrossed in arranging the shelves when the door creaked open. A tall, rugged man entered, a hint of unfamiliarity etched into the lines of his face.

Joel, a newcomer to the community, you’d seen him around town with a young girl practically attached at his hip. He cast an assessing glance around the room before approaching the counter where you stood. His eyes, weathered and guarded, met yours as he cleared his throat, his voice gruff but not unkind. "I'm lookin' for books about space."

You looked up from your task, offering a warm smile. "Space, huh? Planning a journey to the stars?" you teased, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

Joel's lips twitched into a small smile, a rare expression on his usually stoic face. "Not exactly. Got a kid back home who's mighty interested in space. Wants to know everything there is."

Interest sparked in your eyes as you couldn't help but inquire, "Your daughter, then?"

He hesitated, a subtle shift in his gaze, but he didn't correct you. "Yeah, somethin' like that."

Your smile widened. "Well, you've come to the right place. We've got a stellar collection—pun intended."

Joel nodded, a silent acknowledgment of your attempt at humor. "Good to know."

As you led him through the aisles, the conversation flowed easily. He shared stories of Ellie, a girl he watched over, protected, and cared for deeply. The love in his words painted a vivid picture, and when you mentioned how wonderful it was that he and his "daughter" shared such interests, he didn't correct you.

"So, what's her favorite subject?" you asked, your tone playfully nudging towards the unspoken connection.

He chuckled, a soft warmth in his eyes. "Space, definitely. She's got a million questions about stars, planets, you name it."

You grinned, leaning slightly closer. "Well, Joel, it seems you've got a budding astronomer on your hands. Lucky for you, I'm an expert in celestial matters."

Joel's expression remained stoic, but there was a subtle glint of amusement in his eyes. "Is that so?"

You nodded, your gaze meeting his with a hint of mischief. "Absolutely. But my expertise doesn't come cheap. I'll need payment in the form of a good conversation and maybe a coffee sometime."

Joel's chuckle deepened, and a grin tugged at the corners of his lips. "Coffee, huh? You got yourself a deal."

As Joel left the library with a stack of books, you couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth. The door closed behind him, leaving you with the subtle hum of excitement and the gentle echo of playful banter that seemed to linger in the air. The library, once a quiet haven of solitude, now held the promise of a story unfolding—one with celestial wonders and perhaps a touch of romance.

in the quiet moments of reflection, your mind often wandered to the time when you and Joel first met. The memory used to bring a warm smile to your face—the genuine laughter, the shared dreams, the promise of a future entwined with his. But now, each recollection was tainted by the bitter sting of betrayal, and the nostalgia had become a source of pain.

As you sat alone in the dimly lit room, the flickering shadows seemed to mimic the turbulence within your heart. The memory of your first meeting played in your mind like a melancholy film—a reminder of the love that had once been untarnished. The weight of what had transpired since then pressed down on you, leaving a bitter aftertaste to a memory that had once been so sweet.

The soft hum of a distant song, a melody you both used to share, brought a wave of conflicting emotions. Your mind wandered back to that day—the laughter, the stolen glances, the electric feeling of a connection that transcended words. It was a time when you looked into his eyes and felt like you had found something extraordinary.

But now, those memories were haunted by the echoes of his infidelity, and the rose-tinted glasses you once wore shattered, revealing the painful truth beneath. The laughter had become an echo, the glances a cruel reminder, and the connection a frayed thread threatening to unravel.

In the midst of the emotional turmoil, you found yourself thinking, almost wistfully, about what life would have been like if you'd never met Joel. The thought was a bitter pill to swallow, a testament to the depth of the wounds inflicted.

You replayed the scenes of your shared history—the highs and the lows, the joy and the heartbreak. The almost-wish lingered in the recesses of your mind, a testament to the profound impact of betrayal on the once cherished memories.

Joel has shown up at your door, trying to extend a tentative olive branch, an attempt to breach the chasm that had widened between you. His words were carefully chosen, an apology that carried the weight of remorse. He expressed a longing for resolution, a desire to face the consequences of his actions and rebuild what had been lost. “Can I come in?” he says hesitantly, trying to gauge your emotional state.

Reluctantly you nod, and step aside, allowing him into the house.

The weight of Joel's confession hung in the air. The room steeped in a heavy silence, and charged with the weight of unresolved emotions as you and Joel sat facing each other. The revelation of his infidelity with Veronica had unearthed a raw vulnerability. It had left your relationship hanging in the balance.You needed answers that transcended the initial betrayal. You both needed to confront the difficult question of where to go from here.

"Why, Joel?" you questioned, your voice steady but edged with a yearning for understanding. "I get that you were lost, but why did you keep cheating with her after the first time? Why not just admit it to me after it happened once?"

Joel's gaze met yours, his eyes carrying the weight of guilt. He took a moment before responding, as if grappling with his own internal turmoil.

"I didn't know how to face it," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "The shame, the guilt—it overwhelmed me. And every time it happened again, the weight of that guilt just grew. I was trapped in a cycle, and I couldn't find a way out."

Your brow furrowed, a mix of frustration and disbelief settling within you. "So, instead of admitting your mistake and trying to make amends, you kept it a secret and continued to betray our relationship?"

Joel nodded, the admission heavy on his conscience. "I thought if I could just stop, if I could find a way to break free from that cycle, I could spare you the pain of knowing. But each time, I failed. It became a vicious cycle I couldn't escape."

The room seemed to close in as the gravity of his words sank in. The cycle of betrayal, a web of lies and shame, had perpetuated itself, leaving both of you ensnared in the consequences.

"But why?" you pressed, your voice a mixture of frustration and sadness. "Why not face the consequences and be honest with me? We could have worked through it together, Joel."

His eyes reflected the internal struggle, a war between the truth and the self-imposed isolation he had subjected himself to. "I was scared. Scared of losing you, scared of facing disappointment. It was a selfish choice, and I see that now."

The admission hung in the air, a painful acknowledgment of the choices that had led to the fracture of trust. The room, once a sanctuary, now felt like a battlefield of emotions.

"So, you kept hurting me to protect yourself," you whispered, the weight of the realization settling on your shoulders.

Joel's gaze remained fixed on the floor, his silence confirming the painful truth. The unraveling of the secrets and the depths of his struggles became a sobering reality, and as you navigated the aftermath of betrayal, the room seemed to echo with the weight of unspoken regrets and the yearning for a path forward.

The room felt like a suffocating space, each revelation adding weight to the heavy air. Joel's admission of infidelity hung between you, a chasm that seemed impossible to bridge. After a moment of tense silence, you found the strength to voice the truth that had been echoing in your heart.

After a moment, you gathered the courage to voice the question that lingered in the room like an unspoken specter. "What now, Joel? What does this mean for us?"

Joel looked up, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of desperation and remorse. "I messed up. I know I can't change the past, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right. If you're willing to give me another chance, I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

Your gaze met his, and for a moment, the memories of a time when love flowed effortlessly between you resurfaced. There had been a time when you looked into his eyes and couldn’t imagine a future, a universe, where you didn’t stare into them for eternity. The love you had for him was one like no other, the strongest you’d ever felt for someone, for something.

But now, those eyes hold the weight of betrayal, and the road ahead seems uncertain. You took a deep breath, searching for the right words to navigate the delicate conversation.

The sincerity in his voice tugged at the frayed edges of your heart, but the wounds were fresh, and the scars of betrayal ran deep. The room seemed to hold its breath, awaiting your response.

"I can't, Joel," you said, your voice steady but laced with a profound sadness. "This- 

 It's too much. I can't see a way forward for us."

Joel's eyes pleaded with a mix of regret and desperation, but the gulf between you seemed insurmountable. "I messed up, I know I did, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right."

The sincerity in his voice clashed with the shattered trust, and you shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. "No, Joel. It's not just about saying sorry or making things right. It's not just about the mistake," you began, your voice measured but carrying the depth of your emotions. 

"It's about the trust we had, and that trust has been shattered. This is a betrayal that cuts deep, and I don't think we can come back from it."

His face fell, the weight of realization settling in. "We've been through so much together. Please, don't end us because of one mistake."

The room seemed to close in as you grappled with the heartbreaking decision. "It's not just one mistake, Joel. It's a pattern of choices that shattered the foundation of trust we had. I can't continue a relationship where I constantly question if I'll be cheated on again.”

Joel's eyes glistened with unshed tears, and his voice wavered with a mix of remorse and desperation. "I'll change, I'll do anything to make this right. Just give me a chance."

But the echoes of his pleas couldn't drown out the resolute decision forming in your heart. "I'm sorry, Joel. It's best for both of us to move on. This is too much of a betrayal, and I need to prioritize my own well-being."

As you spoke those words, a heavy silence descended upon the room, punctuating the end of a chapter in your lives. The pain of parting, though agonizing, seemed to carry a semblance of closure. The room, once a space of shared dreams and memories, now bore witness to the painful conclusion of a relationship that had weathered too many storms.

He nodded, a somber acknowledgment of the consequences of his actions. "I know. I never meant to hurt you like this. If I could take it back, I would."

The air in the room hung heavy with the weight of a relationship on the precipice of its demise. Joel's desperate plea for forgiveness echoed in the silence, but the wounds were too fresh, and the trust too shattered to rebuild easily. You took a deep breath, a heaviness settling in your chest.

"Joel," you began, your voice steady but tinged with the pain of realization, "I appreciate your willingness to make amends, but the truth is, I can't see a way forward for us."

His eyes, once a source of comfort and love, now mirrored the anguish of a relationship slipping away. "I messed up, and I understand if you can't forgive me. But please, don't end us like this."

The sincerity in his voice tugged at the frayed edges of your heart, but you knew you couldn’t continue a relationship with him. You met his gaze, a mix of sadness and resolve in your eyes. "Joel, we had something special, something I cherished more than anything. But what we had is broken now. I can't ignore the betrayal, and I can't keep holding onto a past that's been tainted."

He reached for your hand, a desperate attempt to bridge the growing distance between you. "I'm willing to do whatever it takes, anything. I just can't imagine a future without you."

The weight of his words hung in the air, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to be transported back to a time when the future seemed boundless, and his gaze was a promise of forever. There was a time when you looked into his eyes and couldn't imagine a future where he wasn't a central part of it. But now, the love that had once felt unbreakable had shattered, leaving a void you weren't sure could be filled.

"I need to let go, Joel," you said, the weight of those words lingering in the room. "For my own sake, and for yours. We both need a chance to heal and find our own paths forward."

He nodded, a defeated acknowledgment of the reality you both faced. "I never thought we'd come to this," he admitted, his voice heavy with regret.

As the words settled, the room seemed to hold its breath. The love that had once been the anchor of your world now existed as a bittersweet memory. Joel, his gaze lowered, nodded with a heavy understanding.

"I won't forget what we had," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "I'll always love you."

And with that, you uttered the finality that had been hanging between you. "Goodbye, Joel."

The door closed behind him, marking the end of a chapter that had once been a love story. The room, once a sanctuary for shared dreams, now bore witness to the closing of a door that could no longer be left ajar. In the aftermath of goodbye, the echoes of a love that once lingered, a poignant reminder of the fragility of connection and the resilience required to forge a new path forward.

tag list: @pertinentpostmortem @party-hearses @mandoisapunk @bastardmandennis @catchallfangirl @chaotic-mystery @beskarandblasters @amanitacowboy @littlegrungegirlaf @pamasaur @pedrodascal @sweetercalypso @ilovepedro @cool-iguana @pascalpvnk @alwaysmicado @lovers-liability @futuraa-free @morgaussy @pedritoferg @spookykoolkat @wethairjoel @chronically-ghosted @buckyispunk @pattwtf @morning-star-joy @elvinaa @tinycozycomfort @magpiepills @pr0ximamidnight @joelscurls @janaispunk @5oh5 @farmerlarrry @maximoff-forevermore @atinylittlepain @joeldjarin @spookyxsam @honey-dip-24 @hiroikegawa @mcira @mrsmando @hyzer34 @limerence4u @sin-djarin @reddedmiller @joels-shitty-puns @elvinaa

[vampirejuno]

Mutual 1: ughhhhh I hate him I hate him so much I want to kill him and rip him apart with my teeth!!!!!! [Picture of character who is present in their url, avatar, and background photo]

Mutual 2: if another customer asks me to scan their 59 expired coupons I will dismember myself in front of them

Mutual 3: shitting again!! #diarrhea #ibs #girl dinner #student life #cottagecore

Mutual 4: poll should I move to Nebraska yes/no

Mutual 5: I need [character from children's cartoon] to vivisect me and then gently stitch me back together so I can unbecome and be remade

Mutual 6: what if we all killed our selves together. On the count of three

Mutual 7: [16 reblogs of the saw bathroom scene]

Mutual 8: baked a pie today there is still beauty in the world 😍❤️💗😌😊👍✨🥰💕👌🥺

Mutual 9: love tastes like acid in my mouth I want to rip it out of my chest but it's taken root like an invasive plant and it's covering all the walls with its vines and I'm drowning myself in pesticides and the gardener (my therapist) is shaking his head in disappointment. This metaphor has gotten away from me

Mutual 10: finally finished that little project. Not super happy with it but at least it's done [picture of 12×8ft tapestry, hand-embroidered]

Mutual 11: do you guys think they're more of a boygirl or more of a girlboy. Here's some evidence to consider [15 pictures of gerard way in mini skirts and lab coats]. Discuss.

Mutual 12: -and it's absolutely ridiculous to imply that Koko the gorilla knew real sign language when if you do even a little research you'll see that the scientists were reading too much into her responses, there was zero grammar present in her communication, they didn't even consult actual deaf people and the whole thing stinks of wishful thinking. Op should be ashamed of themselves. Also fuck Chomsky

[m3loria]

˖﹙ 🌠 ﹚ TOWER SIDE MEMORY.

WHERE yohan thinks his members are the most telling combination of strange.

˖ FEATURING. hong yohan, meliora ensemble. ˖ TIMESTAMP. NOV '19–SEP '22, scene combination. ˖ WARNINGS. swearing, insomnia, mentions of drinking, smoking, fighting, this is not in chronological order. ˖ WORD COUNT. 8.7k ˖ NOTES. happy friday random account viewers, hi jj no.1 yohan stan mega oomf ily btw 😊😊 so i basically sort of kind of plagiarized this because its the oc work of the century.. sorry, it was either this or angst and i can save that for another time!! im an angst lover to my core lowk 💗 i will make these men sad, anyway, warning bc this work is non-linear, i love writing things out of order its so fun 🫶 yohan's the best person for this because hes basically meliora's face and jj wants him so bad 🙂‍↕️ me too honestly (i created him), this work absolutely killed me to write since i debated on how sad i should make each section, not everything is that bad though!! im so sweet cant you see it in my smile 😁😁

   OCTOBER  6  2021.   LOUVIX AUDIO BUILDING

hwan is low maintenance, yohan doesn’t have to be a genius to know that one.

through observant glances and itching from none other than haneul, he figures that encapsulating silence defines his character. when meeting him firstly, he felt just the slightest bit seen. it’s unlike the groups flurry of extroverts who get uneasy when they don’t receive a text each hour, the two don’t even need to have each other’s numbers.

friendship has never been discreetly established, hwan never verbally establishes anything, he implies it through actions, through baked treats and intricately created charm bracelets.

yohan’s gotten a few cookies, he thinks he’s in the clear.

despite the label of ‘hiatus’, he never exactly rests, not when the members decide to leave anyway. resting would equate to doing nothing, and yohan loathes doing nothing, maybe he should write a song about that.

there’s no time for anything, he’s let off promotions yet there’s still so much to do. hospital visits, meeting attendances, so much catching up he genuinely doesn’t give a thought about when he finally passes out after midnight.

what’s the point of being out on a ‘hiatus’ if the company can’t even attempt to get rid of a few unhealthy tendencies? maybe they want to make way for another stage collapse, that wouldn’t be too daunting. sometimes, he feels like they think he’s a machine instead.

the scrawled lyrics appear as more of diary entries than anything, what the fuck is he writing about again? if this is going like it does in that one story, then a guardian angel will appear to him and finish the whole thing instead.

“aren’t you tired?”

or he guesses hwan.

it isn’t as if it’s the first time he’s ever heard a mutter from the younger, there consistently happens to exist silent mumbles in the background of regular arguments. he usually does give his piece, it simply isn’t loud enough to cut through the ear bleeding sounds of fighting.

well hwan sort of is a guardian angel, unwillingly, in a completely unaware manner, but he acts as a preserver nonetheless. he scrunches his nose at the inquiry, biting his wince back at the screech of the nearby chair. “it’s only been an hour”.

it isn’t an excuse, no, it’s a fact, though he supposes any other member would graciously take the aftermath of silence as an opportunity to attempt a scathing rebuttal, hwan remains silent, much too familiar with using the very own words as a response.

he rubs at his wrist, lethargy staring down lethargy, it’s ironic. it comes sporadically on occasion, but he sometimes feels like yohan’s spitting image, yet the degree of timidity stretches.

“that’s still a lot of sleep missing” he laughs, a quick glance at the scribbled lyrics, he pays no mind to them, it’s typically a team effort, which is pretty caustic considering the lack of definitive teamwork between whatever they write. for once, uneasiness seizes his features, concern, yohan thinks in another life, he’d probably be the group leader. “i mean— i guess i can’t talk about that but uh.. this is your break, for, you know, resting?”

“i’ve spent half the time resting”.

yohan doesn’t find pride in lying, it’s simply effective in moments like this, where someone once again stares him down to inquire about the unhealthy behavior he can’t keep under wraps any longer, it’s to quell worries, it’s a brick wall used to at least conceal something.

but of course, someone so similar can probably spot that one, it isn’t as if he underestimates the other’s intelligence, it’s simply the fact of the prospect being a regular coping mechanism.

“okay hyung”.

his undertone is soft enough that it doesn’t physically irk the older, but it almost appears just the slightest bit condescending, at least he has the pretty smile as a sugar coating device. “i can finish this..”

yohan’s right eye twitches, yet not out of irritation. “no, it’s okay”.

okay is about the worst word to use.

“my handwriting isn’t that bad”.

he snickers, he doesn’t exactly expect that one. “it’s too personal, you might go crazy”.

and the excuses are going to pile up until there are none left, until yohan has to surrender his dignity to admit the fact that he’s scared, that his medication does nothing and the claustrophobic studio has already swallowed him whole.

but until then, nobody cares about that.

he shrugs in reply. “the intimacy is an important factor”.

“i’m gonna scrap it”.

this is probably the longest conversation they’ve had, yes, despite the many lyrical collaborations. the act of stalling is easy, and the simplicity clears the anxiety he felt encapsulating him before the younger entered.

hwan blinks. “or you could let me help”.

help should be a word of contentment, but that uneasiness once again settles, longing for solace in the air of a room like this is a fool’s dream, and yohan thinks it’s been too extensive of a period since he’s properly closed his eyes without fearing what would happen after sleep. sleep itself appears to be a dream, he reaches, his fingers just barely grace its curvatures, and then it slips away once hope emerges in a gleam, taunting, fucking shameful.

in his current circumstance, help could be considered similarly, he yearns for such a thing, yet it’s just barely out of his reach.

his glasses are fogging.

yohan sucks his teeth, now he actually does want to scrap the whole song. “i mean.. i don’t know how we— you would do that”.

he isn’t exactly sure they’re a team in his eyes.

“what? you don’t trust me?”

it could be earnest, but it appears more playful, yohan’s sure hwan is picking such words carefully.

it’s actually the opposite, yohan doesn’t trust himself, which is a stupid thing for such a stubborn person to say aloud, so of course he doesn’t.

“not sure..”

for the first time, his responses dry up, there appears to be no more excuses left behind.

there’s a smile, hwan lords his victory over yohan with that smile. “go to sleep hyung, i can finish the song”.

and it’s the simplicity which moves him, has him standing out of his seat, hand instantly grabbing his sweater. hwan’s smile remains, it’s a rare right, and yohan guesses he has the right to be full of so much pride. “was that a first?”

well now he’s just being cocky.

“i guess” yohan shrugs, he doesn’t divulge the imminent fear of closing his eyes which will probably arise on the walk back, a horror not even the solace of his bed can fend off. “one song”.

hwan doesn’t seem to long for any more. “aye aye captain”.

his nose scrunches, but he guesses it’s pretty funny.

   AUGUST  18  2021.   HANAGAE BEACH

kiro’s about one of the strangest guys yohan knows, which is the true surprise when considering his debut in meliora as a whole.

they’re all a bit strange, some members allowing for the peculiarities to shine, others instead keeping them restricted until they have to display such oddities for the sake of content. he’s aware that might be a rude thought, but he still holds love for them, eccentric characteristics and all.

and it’s not that kiro causes him to question his sanity, he has a good chunk of the others to condemn for that one, he’s not one of them.

he’s sweet, through the spontaneous peculiarities, he doesn’t make yohan want to rip individual hairs out of his scalp, he simply makes yohan feel indescribably beatific, it’s something about his smile that earns a responding smile. kiro makes yohan happy even with silence, that’s why he’s strange.

and this, for some inconceivable reason he can’t conjure, makes yohan happy, all because of kiro. standing on a beach to watch the sunrise simply causes warmth to encapsulate his heart, it’s cute.

yohan’s always been an early riser, he’s aware kiro’s practically identical to him in that field. comeback seasons been out forever, yet opening eyes at five in the morning to again face the monstrosity of this world is completely mundane, it’s always been mundane, established as its own feat of normalcy since the early teenage years.

when he sees kiro downstairs, hair already brushed and tying his shoes, he blinks;

“what’s going on here?”

he startles, yohan occasionally forgets the members are always so jumpy, he isn’t that frightening, he’s sweet!

“god hyung don’t do that! i didn’t even hear you coming down the stairs!”

it’s adorable, how he remains the slightest bit neurotic, korean stuttered as he stares him face to face. when they first met, kiro could probably only dream of such a prospect, yohan can still make out a fraction of timidity remaining, but in comparison to last year, they’ve improved.

“sorry” his tongue prods at the side of his cheek. “it’s so early, where are you heading?”

and yohan realizes he does sound a lot like hajoon at this moment. well, he can’t win everything.

embarrassment overtakes his features, it manifests in a red tint which is quick to make home on his cheeks, the tips of his ears rapidly reacting in a quicker succession, and listen, yohan is aware it’s the middle of summer, but the place is also extremely air conditioned, unless there’s some secret furnace he’s unaware of.

“i uh— um..”

take your time, he wants to mutter, afraid of being unable to convey that through his stare alone. yohan’s a patient man, and though time is precious, he finds that the comfort of the people in his life outweigh that prospect. “i usually go to the beach to watch the sunrise..”

yohan blinks, he’s unsure of how the answer appeared to slip by so rapidly, or maybe he should scrutinize himself for not allowing the endless possibilities which exist to spring to mind.

“the nearest beach is almost two hours away?”

“well i uh— i mean, i don’t mind just catching a taxi, even if they’re kinda expensive”.

he hums, observing for a moment before clicking his tongue. “do you mind if i join you?”

his reply is exhibited through the acute physical reaction which corresponds with the titular widening of his eyes, as if it’s a travesty having the company of another human being by his side.

that might not be the case, it may just be the idea of spending time with yohan which startles him, or perhaps it’s the question, the tone and weight of each singular word that makes regular inquiries appear so.. irregular.

“do you not want me to?”

“no, no you can come with i was just.. kinda surprised”.

so they do exactly that; continuously muttering on the way, even with the taxi ride stretching to just before the two hour mark, they happen to enjoy themselves much more than they assume.

“so is this a tradition of yours?” he inquires, eyes threatening to flutter closed from the sheer power of the sun, the rays stabbing at his eyes. his right eye twitches, but he doesn’t fret.

“yeah mostly, when i first came to korea this was one of my first visiting spots”.

a smile tugs at yohan’s lips. “that’s cute” he states, basking in the light breeze of the early morning, the rushing of the ocean filling his ears. “do you always come alone?”

kiro appears to attempt a shot at hiding, averting his gaze instantly. “no one wants to wake up early to watch the sunrise” he whispers.

there’s a singular tick before yohan speaks once more; “if you ever want to, you know i’m always up early”.

“aww, are you offering?” his undertone indicates pleasantry with a hint of genuine surprises, but yohan decides to not dwell.

“i mean— the beach is nice, would be good to get some fresh air..”

kiro laughs. “you need to make time for yourself, hyung, this is technically your break after all”.

“i am doing that” yohan is unsure of exactly why he decides to pose such an argument, tone too gentle to convey any truth. “i can just do that while also spending time with you”.

and he includes the nudge of his shoulder to sell his point, repeatedly blinking at the shine of the sun. “come on, let’s go eat breakfast”.

yohan usually doesn’t eat breakfast, but he supposes today is a special occasion.

“oh hyung, are you spoiling me?”

he can’t help his responding smile. “don’t get used to it”.

   NOVEMBER  29  2019.   HOTPOT RESTAURANT 

apparently it’s a good day for hajoon, and whilst yohan can only assume, it appears the answer for his elevated brightness is clear.

yohan remains the slightest bit weary, not because he’s rude, it’s quite the opposite, he exudes a level of consideration yohan doesn’t expect from a guy he’s technically competing with for a spot in a fresh new group.

their skill sets are much the opposite, but competition is competition, he’s aware he’s gonna debut either way, maybe that explains his natural talent for simple generosity.

and it’s not that yohan doesn’t like him, it’s simply everything else that makes him strange.

which is exactly why yohan agrees to a hotpot “date” as he calls it. he entered the cushioned trainee dorms at eight pm, completely vitalized despite the tenor extending exhaustion. he specifically sought out yohan for a reason which remains iffy, nothing of a sure reply given for the question.

but he guesses that should be the least of his concerns when food is free.

he tunes out for a moment, only snapped out of his daze once the younger begins a fit of complaints. “you’re always looking in front of you, what are you thinking about?”

he knocks as if the older’s head will emit a sound, amused by his responding irritation. yohan’s face scrunches, his fist winding up just for nothing to happen. “nothing..”

“it’s not nothing” yohan is rattled by his chewing, his nose scrunch selling that idea. the younger decides to ignore him, hands clasping together in a silent sound. “come on, i won’t bite, what’s bothering you?”

“nothing’s bothering me i just couldn’t focus”.

hajoon takes in a deep breath, somehow not having his tongue burnt from the sheer amount of food he’s scarfed down, it’s still steaming, yet he doesn’t falter in the slightest. “is it debuting?”

yohan falters, hajoon smiles, god he’s way too good at that. “what’s with the doubt? you’re clearly going to debut”.

at that statement, he earns an eyebrow raise. “clearly?”

“you’re everything the lineup needs, you’re pretty, you can sing, you can dance, you don’t talk too much, companies like that in trainees” he muses, fingers coming to brush his hair out of his face. “you’re just like hwanie”.

yohan finds the words baffling, but he doesn’t display that, simply furrows his eyebrows. “and what? you aren’t anxious about debuting?”

“it isn’t exactly my whole life, this group”.

yohan is jealous. he longs for such laxity, hajoon talks about it like it’s nothing, but yohan’s putting his whole life into this. how is he supposed to face his mom if he doesn’t get into the group? areum? hyeri? yisoo? he’s supposed to pass, he’s the sibling consistently fueled with determination, what would failing even be like? how could anybody be relaxed about such a thing?

or maybe yohan’s simply chiefed by his anxiety, perhaps that’s the reason.

“oh”.

sensing the sudden change of atmosphere, hajoon begins whistling, playing with his chopsticks. “after this, we should go shopping or something”.

yohan’s eyes narrow. “if we do that we’ll get back late”.

he pretends to contemplate, clearly aware of what he’ll say next. “you need to relax”.

yohan clicks his tongue. “didn’t realize you cared”.

the younger snickers, slapping his arm. “of course i do! we’re friends now aren’t we?”

friends, well that’s a strange word. yohan doesn’t realize they had a label for this, hajoon just appeared one day in the practice room and yohan never questioned it, he never questioned their relationship.

yohan realizes that he probably won’t get another opportunity like this with the next year hot on his tail, once the idol life sets in, there’s no longer free time.

he sighs. “fine”.

“great! it’s a date!”

that’s probably gonna be his thing, yohan realizes he doesn’t mind much.

   SEPTEMBER  3  2022.   STYLE ROOM

yohan finds the members’ muttering easy to fall asleep too, the stylists hands in his hair cushioning his falling head.

the heat emanating from the hair straightener is surprisingly comforting, and despite the shouting, he manages a good thirty minutes of slumber before a tap on his forehead disturbs him.

he’s awaken by yet another tap on his forehead followed by the shuffling of footsteps, when he finally does open his eyes, he belatedly misses the absence of the hairstylist’s presence, instead alerted by two muddled voices.

haneul and yaejoon are arguing over.. something, yohan doesn’t mind whatever they’re whispering about. however, he notices the appearance of taro, who awkwardly stands by, seemingly caught in the crossfire, the image causing a chuckle to push itself up his throat.

the two others continue their “intense” argument, taro turns his way with pleading eyes, silently requesting for the older to get him out of his current predicament.

“what did i do?” he whispers, arms flailing slightly as yaejoon lightly tugs his shoulder.

yohan decides to pout for him. he clears his throat, catching the attention of his two arguing members. “you guys wanna know something interesting?” he begins, “last week’s hotel had the best desserts so far”.

and just like that, they begin yet another debate, a calm one somehow, taro watches on in pure amazement. “how do you just do that?”

yohan shrugs. “i don’t know”.

and honestly? he doesn’t.

the two arguing don’t pay attention, but at least the pressure is off his shoulders. he takes a seat in the vacant chair beside the leader, yohan gazes on, observing the anxiety permeating from him immediately, the maknae flinching at nothing in the air. “you okay?”

he doesn’t answer verbally, simply nodding. yohan hums, unbelieving of it all. “come on, you can tell me what’s wrong”.

he still remains silent, yohan doesn’t mind that really, he’s simply aware of how terrible it is to bottle up things like this. “aren’t you excited to go home?”

at the mention of home, taro flinches, flinches in the manner of a cat flicked with water, accidentally dropped into a bathtub in a ruthless prank by their owner.

he’s skittish like that, yohan has observed, he’s got cute eyes and constantly fiddles with his bracelets when longing for something to do, once the anxiety settles in, he plays around with the knots of fabric pressing to his skin.

gosh, yohan adores taro.

“i’m not sure, yoiki is excited but knowing my parents they probably won’t come”.

yohan frowns for his sake, but the news appears normal for him, his undertone doing nothing of a change. he blanks at the information, not exactly unaware of such a thing, simply disheartened for the maknae.

“are they working?”

“it doesn’t matter if they are or not”.

yohan doesn’t meet the members’ parents often, it just so happens to not be that much of a need for him, the members all have their own issues relating to some parental figure, and if that isn’t the case, then it’s probably much worse, stuff he’d rather not get into with the rest of them because dealing with trauma like that does questionable things to people.

his mother appears to be nice enough, she’s simply a massive workaholic.

his mouth dries. “hey, don’t think about that, on a positive note, your sisters are coming, and..”

“and?”

“you have us” he motions his head in the direction of the two softly quarreling. “i’ve always wanted to try soba”.

now that earns a small smile, the pretty stretch resulting in warmth encapsulating yohan’s heart. taro glances downward at his nails, picking at the skin.

once yohan gently separates his nails from the skin, he earns a smile; “i know a few good places” he mumbles, shyly looking away.

yohan smiles. “great, we can go together”.

he blushes, flush with endearment and a hint of budding enthusiasm. “yeah i’d like that..”

he’s unsuccessfully attempting to hide a smile, and yohan has to stifle a flurry of coos.

he simply thinks taro may just be the cutest person ever.

   DECEMBER  23  2021.   MELIORA DORMS

yohan comes to a not-so startling conclusion, haneul drunk is nothing different from haneul sober.

he supposes affection is guaranteed with a guy of that manner, when yohan first met him, there happened to be a distinct fashion of the air. he appears to be fond of everyone, everything, elated by such mundane prospects of life as if it’s his first waking moment on earth.

it’s.. well, kind of cute, in a completely abnormal sense to yohan’s considerably sane mind. he’s never seen the guy without a smile, every waking moment the feat of ecstasy simply heightens, and it appears that extends to tossing back shot after shot.

his face is painted a baby pink, the only contrast being the bright red of his cheeks. it has no affect on his attitude, he’s woozy, one of the few unusual results of drinking to your heart’s content.

“one more!” and when he raises the shot glass, it disappears as swiftly as yohan swipes it out of his hands. he releases a very intelligible ‘hmph’ and gives his best attempt at getting it back, just barely able to control his own limbs. “hyung!” yohan grimaces at the immediate spike of volume. “you can’t withhold shots from me, it’s my birth month”.

what an excuse, the younger about falls off his chair, yohan having to act as damage control in a room full of his other wasted members.

but he unfortunately does not let up, instead wrapping his arms around the leader in an effort to keep him in his place, or maybe the alcohol setting in is just opening the door for a mountain of affection he did not ask for. he snuggles into his side, and yohan has to keep a sigh between his teeth.

“are you alright?”

“i’m tired” haneul mumbles, eyes fluttered shut as he totally, possibly unconsciously, squeezes around his waist, yohan clenching his teeth as his own silent reply.

yohan snorts. “what about the shots?”

he allows for the crack of an eye, then his glance wanders over to the dormant shot glass, lips taking a downward turn into a saddening frown. if yohan didn’t know any better, he’d presume that haneul was definitively disheartened by being unable to enjoy one last “drink”. it’s hilarious, in another universe, he’d be rewarded acting accolades.

“you were the one who stole them from me? you’re such a phony you know what right!?”

lord is he still whining? yohan pats his head in a questionable manner, as if haneul is his son or something, attempting to console him in his drunken stupor. “shh! you’re too loud..”

haneul yawns, pinch purposeful. yohan slaps the small of his back, earning the best glare haneul can give with such droopy eyes, a glower which results in probably one of his fairest laughs in a while.

“how about” he begins, unable to slip from the compression paired with his physical feat of endearment. “you go to sleep”.

“i want water” he immediately demands, yohan again allows a smack on his back, perturbed by the change of his tone in the fashion of an unaltered adult.

“okay fine, water”.

unfortunately, yohan underestimates how much he would sort of do for him, it’s just so the younger can stop hugging him so tight, he echoes in his mind.

but he’s probably lying to himself in that regard, the contracting embrace encapsulates solace he supposes he never knew existed for someone like him.

he could probably get used to it.

   OCTOBER  25  2021.   IOYS STUDIOS

“have you ever actually considered painting much more seriously?”

the significantly strange wavelength of what they can call their “relationship” is probably what sprouted such a question. rae often inquires, he’s curious about it all, maybe he was meant for the stars, when his pupils dilate in his typically questioning manner, yohan can’t help but observe how they resemble constellations he so dearly cherishes.

he used to be scared of yohan, in complete tandem with several of the members, yet his fear was deemed different by yohan’s subconscious. it took one physical clash in the practice room for him to run away and hide, it provided him with excellent laughing fodder for a mere moment, but afterward it was simply strange.

the reason they’re painting is technically all due to yohan in the first place, he muttered to him that it was an “early birthday gift”, except such a gift was hidden from the members because they’d easily chastise him for not resting during his break, hwan already did a good number on him.

“it’s just a hobby” he mumbles, tongue prodding at the side of his cheek as his glasses make a daring attempt to fall off his face, steadily sliding down his nose. “nothing serious..”

yohan realizes he must say that about many things, because byeol’s responding look is reminiscent of many he’s gotten throughout the years when musing about his unserious hobbies.

“you said that about singing too and..”

that earns a snicker, it’s true, but they can’t exactly be compared. yongrae takes yet another glimpse, as if trying to take a look into yohan’s mind. his attempts appear to be futile, and he turns his head back to his half done painting.

“well that was before i knew i would debut”.

“didn’t you always know?”

he likes to ask questions, and yohan enjoys answering questions, enjoys relaying more information to his members in a manner which heightens their intrigue. he’s unsure of why they’re always so curious about his life, he isn’t that interesting in hindsight.

“i mean.. you never know, remember when we thought iseul-ah was in the lineup? we got fooled”.

technically they didn’t, iseul was a fuse, somewhat of a breaking point for the company, yohan doesn’t try to talk to him now that they’ve debuted, he’s sure the other holds back some contempt, but not enough to block hajoon’s number, he’s sure they still talk.

they were a.. close pair he remembers.

he shrugs in reply. “i guess you always just seem to know, sometimes i think you’re a psychic, hyung”.

the way he describes things always irks yohan, but not in the usual sense. he’s invested in the manner of his verbal illustrations, he longs to hear more. “that’s funny”.

his wrist has begun to cramp, he finally sets down the paintbrushes and adjusts his glasses. there’s some scrawled across his shirt, shades of blue he doesn’t recall ever actually choosing, yet they permeate the canvas before him anyway.

“it’s pretty”.

“it’s not done” yohan isn’t a perfectionist, he simply wants for it to be done, the chemicals sneaking up his nose. “i don’t want us to stay out too late”.

“oh, do we have a curfew?” the younger inquires, raising an eyebrow and beginning to giggle at his own joke.

“well you need sleep”.

he snorts, opting to frown at the mere mention of sleep. “how can you say that with little sleep under your belt hyung?”

yohan gets chastised for it often, he finds such a prospect hilarious, consistently getting criticized by his own dongsaengs for his terrible sleeping habits— or, he supposes insomniac habits, he doesn’t sleep much, he supposes that’s why they always point it out.

“i’m just looking out for you”.

yohan wants to vomit, he’s unsure of why it’s taken him so long to verbally utter those words to any of his members, but he really does just want that. yes his members are strange, out there, loud, occasionally they irritate him beyond words, but he does care, he tries his best to verbalize that with actions the best he can.

“how about we just stay a bit longer, it’s not that late” he excuses, he’s correct, it’s only eight o’clock, crossing late territory won’t be evident until it’s at least nine. “you aren’t even done yet”.

yohan’s gaze softens, he guesses it won’t be that much of a problem. “sure”.

his birthday is coming up anyway, yohan will do everything he can for him.

   JUNE  16  2020.   MELIORA DORMS

“and why exactly are you doing this for me again?”

yohan doesn’t mean to exude such a tone, especially with someone older than him, but he supposes he’s much too used to it. chaiya doesn’t mind much, besides the occasional jab at the maknaes whenever they disrespect him as the eldest member, the act of formality is the furthest from his mind.

“you have an addiction” he merely states, and yohan scoffs.

“it’s a healthy addiction” as if that makes any sense, he probably sounds like a raging hypocrite, but that would be nothing new. “better than all the sugar you put into that shit”.

“don’t you swear at me” he points an accusatory finger, yohan’s eyebrow merely raises. “i’m older you know, just because you’re the leader doesn’t mean you have all the power”.

yohan narrows his eyes, longing to say a specific something. the eldest seems to understand despite the silence, because he smiles; “you better stay there, not letting you run away from trying something new”.

that appears to be a consistent theming with all of the members. since when did they all just think that? why do they consistently tell yohan the same thing? well.. the ones who’ll talk to him anyway.

they only debuted a month ago, half of them won’t speak to him and most of them seem terrified at his mere gaze, but they all look to understand the same thing.

yohan’s a control freak.

how funny, he just barely recognizes the inner workings of all their minds, but it’s like they all look at him and think the same thing.

yohan enjoys having things remain the same. what’s the point of trying a new thing that he may dislike when the current wavelength of his life is somewhat comforting to him already? he simply stares, blinking at the concoction the eldest is pouring sugar into. his nose crinkles.

“see? you always do that”.

“i like my coffee black” he voices clearly, but he’s not going to listen, why would he? he’s already doing all of this, at least he knows a good chunk of the members are as stubborn as he is.

“i know that” his tone appears gentle, as if yohan’s some sort of baby. he presumes chaiya would be a good teacher in another life, the thought almost earns a smile. “i just need opinions”.

from me of all people?

and yohan doesn’t think he’s.. mean per say, he just thinks that his opinion could possibly anger one. he’ll leave all the blatant insolence to junmin, there’s so much which could spill out, but he decides to actually have self control in contrast to the other.

chaiya again smiles. “i don’t mind if you don’t like it, that’s the point of opinions isn’t it?”

is this how people make friends now? yohan almost laughs, this is probably the best case scenario of such a thing. “besides, there are twelve other people living here, i need to draw actual conclusions”.

he’s simply so cheerful, and yohan finally does smile, a small one, but a smile nonetheless. “fine”.

“see? i knew you’d come around”.

yohan snorts. “don’t be so full of yourself”.

the words hold no truth, bear no genuine weight on the confidence of the eldest, yohan finds it pretty admirable.

he can just deal with it for now.

   AUGUST  10  2022.   OAKLAND  CA

yohan gets about twenty minutes of peace before his door is kicked down.

his eye cracks open, and he heavily sighs at the sight of a familiar headache. kang yaejoon just so happens to be full of energy, a consistent noise yohan begged to not bother him.

“oh fuck this”.

“don’t swear hyung”.

and suddenly, the younger flops on top of him, possibly breaking all of his bones in a singular movement. yohan grunts, but the other doesn’t let up, instead makes himself comfortable crushing him. “is this a guarantee?” he’s somehow able to let the words escape him, glancing up at the younger who appears contended by it all.

“this is how i show my love for you!”

“by trying to kill me?”

yohan is so fucking tired, maybe he shouldn’t have fought to be placed into a group with twelve other guys, his head falls forward and he takes a deep breath into his pillow. he hears the younger snicker, completely overjoyed at the prospect of the older’s misery. “hey, sometimes it works”.

“yeah sometimes”.

“don’t be so mad, hyung, i always knew i was one of your favorites”.

yohan doesn’t even attempt to refute such a claim, he instead decides to make himself comfortable with the situation in the best manner possible, head remaining rested on his pillow. yaejoon mumbles something that he doesn’t try to decode, eyes begging to flutter closed.

he’s disturbed by a whisper; “hyung”.

“yes?” he yawns, eyes now closed.

“am i really your favorite?”

he cracks one eye open, hoping to convey his feat of chagrin with just a singular movement of one eye. “is that what you’re most concerned about?”

“yes”.

“let me sleep”.

“it’s only nine pm!”

yohan typically doesn’t sleep early, but the tour has practically wiped him out, sleeping early is the only thing he can do in order to ensure he doesn’t pass out on stage.

he grabs onto the younger, instead pulling him into an embrace, one leg thrown over the other. “shh, quiet now, i need my beauty sleep”.

yaejoon stares, yohan can feel it despite the fact that his own are closed. “wow, you wanna lay with me? always knew you had a crush on me”.

“shut up”.

“alright hyung”.

he may talk his ear off the whole entire night, but yohan decides that such a prospect might just be the slightest bit comforting, even if irritating.

   AUGUST  6  2022.   LOS ANGELES  CA

the longer yohan spends time with him, he realizes there are many similarities between him and kristian.

it goes past the amount of siblings they have, their equal adoration of cats, unhealthily taking in much caffeine, being much introverted, often on the side when the groups arguing.

he really didn’t recognize how much the younger is basically him in a skewed font, glares and all.

los angeles is the first stop on every american tour, yohan didn’t mean to study it, he’s just always around once the staff begin muttering about future plans, barely alerted by his presence due to his silence. that’s where kristian was born, he doesn’t often talk about it, not even to jaehwan, who he practically talks about everything to.

yohan’s only aware of one thing, a thing he’s aware of once it comes to most of the members; he’s got a complicated relationship with his parents.

not the first time with a member in this group, he makes occasional passing comments about how they’re probably crazy, doesn’t go much further than that.

he’s clearly been weary of coming home, in a fashion that’s typically uncharacteristic of him, his usually tranquil manner disturbed for possibly the first time since yohan’s met him.

and now he’s grabbing his jacket, heading out.. somewhere.

“where are you going?”

he produces the closest thing to a ‘hmph’, scoffing at the prospect of nothing. “my parents called for a reunion dinner because they heard i’m here”.

yohan blinks, studying the younger for a while. he doesn’t care what the members do after hours, he’s simply concerned about what reunion dinner entails. “and you’re really going?”

the younger shrugs, even with disquietude coloring his features, he wants to appear completely unscathed by such news. yohan again narrows his eyebrows, it’s easy to spot such a facade when you’ve had one up so many times yourself. “my siblings will be there anyway”.

“but your parents..”

he doesn’t finish.

kristian simply stares, attempting to look unbothered despite the clear lack of satisfaction emanating from him in all. yohan yearns to give him a hug, for some unusual reason, he wants to tell him everything is going to be okay, which makes no sense because the younger seems to despise hugs if they aren’t from his favorite person.

he pushes down such thoughts. “doesn’t matter, i’ve dealt with them before”.

you shouldn’t have to.

yohan really does care, he feels like hajoon, constantly babying the members even if they can reasonably afford to take care of themselves. with the way the younger stares, he can practically tell what yohan is thinking.

“don’t you think you should stay?”

yohan is really trying.

he tilts his head. “do you want my company or something?”

“no.. i’m just worried about what might happen”.

“well if i don’t come back then you’ll know they killed me”.

yohan deadpans, but the slightest snicker leaves him. that was pretty funny.

“if you need me to come pick you up i will”.

“you’re too sweet”.

it isn’t said like an insult, not in the manner it usually is, that makes yohan the slightest bit glad. “don’t get sappy”.

“i was saving it just for you”.

yohan scoffs, but there is nothing genuine behind it.

   APRIL  30  2022.   DOWNTOWN SEOUL

yohan never thought he was anybody’s favorite member, mainly because he’s always perceived himself as pretty unapproachable,

but it appears jaehwan enjoys differing with him even when he doesn’t specifically utter it.

and how he drew an impatient blabbermouth to his side will always perturb yohan, he seems to attract a completely contrasting crowd, which includes over half of the meliora members. jaehwan woke up early for possibly the first time ever (despite his day typically ending at nine pm, he’s always out untimely) and dragged a groggy yohan out of the house. the taste of toothpaste still fresh on his tongue, he barely had time to adjust.

“what’s the point of this exactly?” the younger appears elated by the sight of displayed baked treats. he’s always so happy, joy caused by even the slightest of things.

jaehwan continues bouncing up and down as he seemingly contemplates on what to get. “i just wanted to go out, you know you’re my favorite right?”

yohan is unsure if his heart should swell at such a fact. “oh? i thought it was kyuhyunie”.

it technically is, no matter how much it changes, jaehwan will always have a specifically special place in his heart for ahn kyuhyun mostly. yohan doesn’t mind, it’s not much of a pressing matter.

jaehwan frowns, feigned offense in the stretch of that downward turn. “things can change”.

well they usually don’t.

“do you want macarons?”

at the question, jaehwan plays at thought, though his choice appears completely avowed, yohan still squints his eyes anyway. well, he could probably pass that over with the reason that he left his glasses at home, what would jaehwan know?

the younger smiles, bright, all teeth present in the frankly pretty grin. “absolutely, do you not want macarons?”

he shrugs. “i don’t know..”

they do end up getting macarons, several flavors available yet all of them tasting the same to yohan. maybe he doesn’t allow for too much focus, perhaps he should’ve allowed the specific tastes to linger on his tongue, then he would’ve enjoyed them much more than it appeared.

jaehwan drags yohan by hand around downtown seoul for the filler of the day they have time, comeback preparations begin soon and it seems he just wanted to spend time with his “favorite person” (his words, not yohan’s, though the consistent smiles he earns are invigorating enough that he has no rebuttal), something of a mystery to yohan.

“how do you plan to afford this?”

“you mean how do we?”

yohan’s eyes narrow, his vision somewhat blurry as he eyes the miniature figures jaehwan appears so entranced by. they pose nothing of a interest to him, not in the manner they clearly do to jaehwan, but he keeps his mouth shut.

“i don’t want any of this”.

okay, not shut for long enough.

jaehwan pouts, is he really sad? that’s ironic.

“can’t you do me this favor?”

his eyebrows pinch together, is he serious? yohan about laughs at such a thing. “i got you macarons”.

“macarons cost nothing!”

“so why didn’t you get them yourself!?”

he opts to not answer that question, instead taking ahold of yohan’s arm and lurching him forward, out of the titular store.

his feet may have begun to swell, he’s unsure.

he doesn’t exactly long for home, a certain someone just so happens to be weighing in on his conscience, he surmises that going out is better than facing a member who causes his eye to twitch erratically, even if leftover mushy feelings remain constant.

“this sugar intake is unhealthy” yohan ironically bites into an abnormally large chocolate bar as he inquires on such a thing.

“you need it after all, you don’t eat any sugar!”

“i do, healthily”.

jaehwan snorts. “healthy is a fake word, nothing’s healthy at the moment”.

“how deep”.

“i’m being serious” he earns a mere shoulder nudge as his response. he narrows his eyes, vision obscured with the lack of his glasses present. “don’t fight, okay? i don’t want you two to be mad at each other..”

and maybe, for a specific purpose, he’s allowing for the words to escape from the sheer kindness of his heart.

“i’ll try”.

by try, he means he might just have to bottle it all up again, maybe avoid him consistently in the fashion he has since after chuseok, but it technically would be trying.

“no more avoiding him either”.

damnit.

well, yohan can’t do anything else now.

   SEPTEMBER  9  2022.   SCOTIABANK ARENA

they’re about two hours into rehearsal, the complaining begins as soon as the threshold is crossed.

haneul exceedingly whines about the heat, then suddenly jaehwan is endlessly complaining, chaiya is attempting to stare into the sun and yaejoon wants water.

yohan is aware in these kinds of situations he’s supposed to sport a whole responsible leader attitude about the whole thing, but he can’t find the air to care, a hand combing through his hair and lethargy sinking him to the ground.

“let’s take a break now!”

well yohan’s glad he didn’t have to utter it.

he grabs a spot in one of the corners, eyes closed as he allows for his head to comfortably snuggle against the nearby stage equipment. it’s possibly dangerous, though that happens to exist on a further plane of his mind.

he gets distracted when he feels the irking sensation of a presence beside him, a presence which has his eyes narrowing despite them being fluttered shut.

now yohan is unsure of much regarding canada and its specific climate, he doesn’t have enough time to delve into that one, however, the heat typically dissipates around early september, that is not the current wavelength of the weather.

when he cracks open one eye, he’s met with kyuhyun attempting to keep himself awake despite his head begging to be let down so he can doze off. yohan’s perceived his unusual bout of weariness these days, not that every member is not extremely tired over the soul sucking mindscape of a tour, but energy 24/7 kyuhyun suddenly becoming not so talkative should begin ringing alarm bells.

“you need to sleep”.

and yohan supposes he’ll just always be a raging hypocrite, sleep just so happens to be his worst enemy in the world.

kyuhyun turns his way, a seething exhaustion gleaming in his pupils. yohan blinks, he so yearns to give him a hug, he just.. he just looks like he needs one, looks soft, probably feels soft too.

“ouch, do i look that bad?”

yohan chuckles, poking his cheek as his lips take a downturn. “you look like you could use better time”.

kyuhyun scoots closer and makes his head comfortable on his shoulder. yohan longs to question the wavelength of his actions, but he opts for silence as a response. typically, kyuhyun could not resist blabbering, extroverted tendencies carried throughout no matter what.

today appears to display a couple of differences.

“maybe you should stack up on the caffeine” yohan sports, amusement elevating his words.

kyuhyun offers a snort, though deflated. “ki would kill me, you know, i used to be crazy for iced coffee, she’s practically keeping me alive”.

“an energy drink once in a while isn’t terrible”.

“you can’t talk hyung” he rebuts, not scathing, tone much too gentle for the perceived insult seemingly delivered. “your blood may as well be replaced with caffeine”.

“it has some good effects”.

“sounds like something an addict says” kyuhyun unconvincingly laced their hands together, a figurative embrace that surges warmth despite the hoisted heat in the surrounding air. “kiarra would faint”.

yohan furrows his eyebrows, somewhat offended by the certain insult. “well if you attempt it in a healthy manner, it won’t be as bad”.

kyuhyun sighs heavily, supposedly on the brink of dozing off, yohan guesses no energy drinks shall be bestowed upon him, he may as well just fall asleep before they can finish rehearsals.

yohan pokes him again. “go sleep, you’ll be able to catch up tomorrow”.

kyuhyun scoffs, clearly attempting to rebut that claim, unfortunately, yohan’s much more stubborn than he is.

“go”.

“okay!”

kyuhyun’s nose scrunches, but it’s clear he needed that either way.

   SEPTEMBER  21  2021.   GWANGJU  SK

junmin somehow agrees to celebrate chuseok with yohan’s family and he basically has a mini heart attack at the fact.

he suggested such a thing for a blatant reason, he really really knew the extent of junmin’s parents behavior. yejin is constantly at the forefront of his mind, she’s just a kid, barely recognizes the reality of her situation and much too young to even attempt a shot at independence.

he isn’t exactly sure of why he so wanted to, he wasn’t aware the other members had plans. haneul definitely would’ve invited him, hajoon as well, shit, maybe even rae if he wasn’t holding fear back from clashes in the practice room. he took that as a challenge, it wasn’t one, who was he even competing with? himself? his sane mind that tells him to not continuously do this to himself?

when he inquired about it to junmin, the younger just stared. they had been.. well, what they were was complicated at the time. there was no semblance of bad blood, not any that yohan is aware of, he so wishes he could read junmin’s mind, he embroils things in confusion, yet yohan yearns for his presence no matter what.

“you could bring yejin too” he recalled saying, striving to appear mundane enough. “i know you want to”.

well yohan doesn’t know enough about what exactly junmin wants.

god he hates him.

actually, he doesn’t.

he presented a good enough smile. “sure”.

sure, yohan held solace in that one singular word for the week coming up to going home. he never forgets anything, but the mere idea of having to disclose such information to areum and hyeri kills him for the duration, his own head pounds at that.

oh, you’re bringing your boyfriend back home?

not my boyfriend.

she taunts him about it even with the most silent of mutters.

thankfully, possibly because the world decided to hand yohan a single favor for once in his untouched fucking life, his siblings are much too caught up with pampering the house’s newest baby to observe yohan’s impending impatience.

junmin easily slides into the cracks with such perfection yohan wants to die. he’s good at listening and he has a nice smile, yohan’s parents adore him at first glance, yisoo allows for his thumb to continuously point backward; you’ve hit the jackpot!

yohan hasn’t hit the jackpot, he would never call himself a coward, he isn’t, he really isn’t, on most occasions he would simply face a trouble like this head on instead of displaying a terribly manufactured facade.

“don’t get your feelings hurt, han”.

hyeri always says this without any additional context, but yohan isn’t in need for a situation like this. his nose crinkles, and she crushes a dormant cigarette under the heel of her boot. he presumed she quit, he guesses she lied about that fact to mom.

“i won’t”.

who is he kidding?

she does that invasive stare thing, her eyes narrow in complete judgement, she could never be ambiguous, nothing of dubiousness when it’s all scrawled over her features 24/7. yohan constantly feels surveilled under her gaze, when she finally calms the eyebrow raise, she sucks her teeth, teeth drawing blood from where they sink into her bottom lip. “i’m sure your members would believe that one”.

he opts to leave that one unanswered.

junmin doesn’t bring anything up, and yohan’s grateful he remains silent because dad and mom would probably freak if they found out what he was doing behind the scenes. he loves them, but they retain too much of that worry they constantly weighed down on him during his childhood.

“you’re making fun of me”.

“i’m not”.

“you are” yohan clears his throat, chin tilted up in a stubborn display of.. something. “i didn’t decorate my childhood bedroom, you know”.

junmin frowns, cracking his knuckles in his typical i just need something to do fashion. “the color scheme is simply funny, and you used to be so cute!”

yohan guesses he likes it sometimes, enjoys the fact that junmin has that somewhat exuberant switch whenever he’s with him alone. it’s such a selfish thought, yohan surmises he’s probably a pretty selfish person when it comes to the current circumstances.

he doesn’t mean to be, he simply can’t help it.

“could you not? those photos are essential for keeping memories alive!”

and then they bicker, it’s always the same between them, yohan finds comfort in that.

it all went fine, yejin is an absolute angel, areum wants to keep her around forever, she formed a strong ass attachment in just seven hours, yohan’s sure she’ll sign adoption papers straight away.

“he should come around next year too” his mother whispers once most are out of view. yohan pauses, blinking, throat drying up in an aberrant manner, he winces, accidentally turning the water much too high, he might’ve just burned his own hand unconsciously washing the dishes. “i like them both, they’re the sweetest”.

yohan might as well just die.

“i mean—” he swears at himself, how do you disagree with your own mother? “i can see if he wants to again..”

then it’s over, areum has to begrudgingly let yejin go and hyeri continues giving him that look. yohan isn’t leaving just yet, technically, he has a sure fire break until the company decides to shove him back on stage, mental wellbeing better or not.

“think they just found their new favorite” areum made yejin a gift, hair tied into twin braids and decorated with bows. she’s adorable, yohan is aware of how the easy devotion formed.

“she’s gonna want an invite next year”.

yohan frowns, playful, nothing real. “you don’t sound glad”.

junmin shakes his head. “no no your siblings are nice”. he looks down at the floor, hands clasped with his sisters. “i guess i wouldn’t mind”.

yohan wants to jump at the fact, that’s pretty pathetic of me.

“could you call me when you get off the train?”

and listen, yohan’s always been a little self destructive, he’s going to get hurt in the future, maybe he’ll cry, bite off his nails in anxiety, hate himself,

but it feels so good now, he’s afraid he can’t help it.

“of course, that’s no problem”.

[kufflesdiamond]

Incorrect Quotes [Ft Me and Friends!]

Black Yuu/Mc/Reader implied (Because I'm black!!!! and we need more.) Interpretation is up to you on some of these! Same au or different??

[ICQ: ITS TRUE BUT YOU SHOULDN'T SAY IT..]

Ortho reading Yuu's text to Idia: "Are you really sure or are you just saying that so you don't have to be in this conversation anymore like an introverted freak?"...

Yuu, struggling to not laugh: He had it coming.

[ICQ: WHAT A SWITCH UP.]

Ace talking of everyones height: Besides Riddle.

Riddle: Are you talking shit about me.

Ace: No Housewarden! 💗🦅

Ace whispering to Deuce: someone get their dog—

[ICQ: ITS FLOYDS FAULT]

Azul: Yuu, come close I have something REALLY important to tell you.

Yuu, backing away: No.. goodnight...

Azul, sweating: Please it's really important—

Yuu: I'm not talking to someone who says "squirt" in almost every sentence.

Azul, sweating more: THERE'S CONTEXT FOR THA—

[ICQ: PUNK ERA DEUCE COMMIT CRIME???]

Deuce clenching his fists: I want you to shut the fuck up.

Ace, as smug as ever: How about you get some bitches first?

Deuce: How about you get your GRADES up??

Ace: Jokes on you they are up!

Ace glancing at deuce: Higher up than your body count

Deuce: YOU...!? I have a high one!!!

Ace, jokingly: Murder is not what I meant.

Yuu & Grim looking over in silent shock:

Deuce, embarrassed: I'M NOT TALKING ABOUT MURDE—

[ICQ: YOU WON'T MEET ORTHO THAT WAY.]

Idia: I wonder how death feels like—

Yuu, tired of hearing this again: SHUT THE FUCK UP‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🦅🦅🦅🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥💯💯💯💯💯💯‼️‼️‼️

[ICQ: ITS NOT LIKE THE TIKTOK MEME]

Yuu typing: how to.. find out if... you like... your childhood... best friend....

Idia sliding in: Number one!

Ortho, teasingly: You like boysss!!!

Yuu: LEAVE ME ALONE YOU FUCKING DEMONS—

[ICQ: THIS IS EVERYDAY??]

Yuu falling flat on their face: oomph-

Kalim, laughing his ass off: THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT YOU GET!!!

Yuu: DON'T BULLY ME YOU GAY

Jamil: Average Ramshackle prefect L.

Yuu side eyeing them both: I hate you people.....

Kalim with a smug look: "you people".. That sounds...

Jamil: ...kinda racist, don't it?

Yuu: You are. so lucky there are people in this dorm otherwise I would've called you a SLUR.

Jamil, shrugging: L

Yuu: SHOVE THAT L UP YOUR ASS.

[ICQ: DONT EAT THA—]

Lilla: ...I want to eat a wall

Malleus: What??????

Lilla with a piece of wall in his hand: mmmm tasty

[ICQ: REAL????]

Jamil: Why are you so stupid... why didn't you just....

Kalim, crossing his arms: Says the stupid one!!

Yuu, placing their hands on their hips: Couldn't even do your own job right.. tsk tsk!!

Jamil: I look at you two and remember why I did what I did when I overbolted.

I lied most of these were hardly me and my FRIENDS and it was instead me and my alters but they were funny to me nonetheless ((no i wont give any context for any of these))

ICQ means 'Incorrect Quote' by the way!!

[dracoiaboli]

Sure I'll bite: ♡ for Ozzie and over at my multi either Charlie, Vero or Michael (or all three).

Asmodeus

💗 Satan views all the sins favorably so there will always be some affection there. Oz is viewed mostly as a little brother by Satan, admittedly the least favorite little brother in comparison to Mammon, but he still cares about him a lot. 💚 He feels sorry for Oz. The dude has a bleeding heart and seems to care for people like Fizz. In Satan's eyes this dooms him to life of heartache and loneliness 🤎 There is a bit of this. Satan knows that Oz is more loyal to Satan, and he does not think Oz would act with the best interest of his friends. (Bel, Mam, Levi) But is more prone to doing things that will fuck over all the sins in the long run. Similar to Bee, but lacking the more social and enjoyable aspects that make Bee and him closer. Oz is probably his least favorite sin, not counting Lucifer.

Charlie

💜 He is attracted to her on some level. She has an energetic and charming energy to her, and he simply finds her lovely to look at. 💗 Personally he likes her. They have a general understanding of caring for friends more then anything which he respects. He feels at the center of their hearts is not vague idealism but more having to do with care for the people they surround themselves with. And she much like Bee is fun to hang out with. 🤎 He's always irritated when she or someone else tries to imply she has power over him, similar to Lucifer he does not respect her as a leader nor does he have any fear of her. Satan would be more likely to listen to her then Lucifer due to having more basic respect for her as a person. If she knows how to control him then he'd be a much more easy to manage person under her authority vs whatever her father tried to do. Its always a mistake to try to use fear against Satan, and that is rarely a method Charlie explores.

Verosika

💜He is not immune to the charms of a beautiful succubus, and Vero is the biggest example of that. In terms of raw sexual attraction there is no one that even comes close for Satan. If his sexuality was given a manifestation she'd be it almost certainly. He'd fight wars over her if they ever got close. 💗 He loves the self made girl boss attitude, and enjoys people that express that. Vero is someone he can respect a great deal, he enjoys her. 🧡 She excites him when she is around certainly. Having her around instantly improves his mood, though he is also much more likely to show off his power around her as well which might not work out well for others around him.

Michael

🖤 There is simply no Universe and no version of Michael Satan does not hate. There is no room for jokes, playful rivalries or banter here. Satan hates Michael, and killing him is always at the forefront of his mind. If the two are in the same room then shit is going to go down, regardless of what Michael wants to do. He blames the angel for everything, and he wants to turn his skull into a drinking cup. 🤎Just the mention of the other will send Satan into a rage. 💛 Michael is the only being alive that Satan fears. So much of his life has been spent waiting for the day he gets to kill him, the thought of losing to Michael is the most disturbing thought to enter his mind. As eager as he is to fight Michael he also understands its a fight that could easily prove to be his undoing, and he is afraid at the prospect of being killed by him.

[sxtaep]

I am requesting toxic raging jealousy ex boyfriend yoongi smut pls in the studio thank u💗💗

NEVER TOGETHER - MYG

↬ summary: your producer, also ex boyfriend, reinstates why exactly you would never move on from him

pairing — yoongi x female reader

genre — smut, angst

word count — 1.4k

warnings/tags — exes!au, dom!yoongi, sub!reader, toxic behaviour, possessive behaviour, jealous yoongi, manipulation, explicit content, manhandling, choking, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, rough sex, degradation, dirty talk, name calling, implied cheating, exhbitionism, voyeurism

a/n: @rosiesarerosesworld i hope this lives up to your expectations 😭❤️ thank you so much for all your love 😭🥰

Having your ex boyfriend as your producer wasn’t the most… timely decision you’d ever made. You and Yoongi had actually been dating way before you requested for him to produce your next album.

Along the way, things didn’t quite go to plan..

You were both so different. Completely contrasting interests and styles, it would’ve never looked good on an album, but by the time you both broke up, you realised it was too late to suspend all upcoming plans regarding it; majority of the songs were complete and you’d already done your concept photoshoot.

It would’ve been a complete waste of time and money to shut the whole thing down.

The album on its own consisted of many toxic break up songs, you know, the ones every girl can just relate to even if they haven’t experienced a breakup.

Slow jam RnB was your speciality, and upon working on this album, you could see every girl screaming out the lyrics with so much pain, yet so much bad bitch energy. Due to this, you decided to bring in a feature, without your ex boyfriend’s knowledge of course.

The name was Park Jimin; living, breathing heartthrob of the century.

The moment you invited him into the studio, he was all flirts and teases, poking you here and there, feedings you a ton of compliments, whether it was about your voice, your demeanour, your hair, your body, you name it.

Of course, Yoongi was sat in front of you both, just watching his biggest nightmare come to life in front of him.

His ex girlfriend and the heartthrob ‘getting it on.’

“Listen, I’m gonna go on a coffee run, do you guys want anything?” The younger male asks the both of you, his eyes moving from you to Yoongi.

“Oh no, I’m all good,” you kindly decline and look towards Yoongi, waiting to see if he wanted anything.

This was the perfect opportunity for him to get Jimin out of the studio so he could be alone with you for more than 5 minutes. “Yeah, I’ll have a tall iced americano, peach iced tea, a double chocolate brownie and a butter croissant.”

Yeah, it was a lot, but who was Jimin to question him? The man was producing their song, if he wanted all of that, he was gonna get it.

“Cool, I’ll be back soon,” Jimin says, throwing his coat on and walking out the door, leaving yourself and Yoongi alone in the studio.

You thought this was just gonna be another one of your awkward interactions with your ex, where you’d have to make small talk with each other until someone walked in, but this time it wasn’t. Your headphones were still on as you mindlessly hummed one of the tunes to your songs in hopes Yoongi wouldn’t talk to you.

“Fucking finally,” Yoongi let’s out an exasperated sigh and pulls himself up off his seat, heading into the recording booth you were in and shutting the door behind him.

“What..?” You furrow your brows at him, pulling the heavy duty headphones off your head. “What’s your problem?”

Yoongi was pacing around the booth, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose in hopes it would calm his temper. “That Park Jimin is such a pest. Who the fuck does he think is, walking around my studio and touching up on my girlfriend—”

“—Ex girlfriend. I’m not yours anymore, so tone down your overbearing possessive tendencies, will you?”

‘Overbearing possessive tendencies?’ That whole sentence triggered a flame within him and before he could stop himself, he was backing you up against the glass, his hands wrapped tightly around your throat as the fear within you had heightened.

“That’s right. You’re not my girlfriend. You never were,” he chuckles dryly, setting his free hand on your hip and trying to keep you still as you continued to thrash in his hold.

Your heart broke a little at his words.

How could he say that after all the time you’d both spent together, all the thoughts you shared, the deep conversations you had.

Your virginity, which you gave to him without a second thought.

You didn’t even take notice of the tears brimming your eyes, threatening to fall, but it was all Yoongi could focus on. It pleasured him in such a sick manner, it had the blood rushing straight to his cock and the butterflies fluttering between your legs.

His hands were restricting your airways, and you were beginning to feel awfully lightheaded, which he noticed and only laughed.

Yoongi was a sick man.

A sick man you’d find yourself crawling back to every time he made your heart jump and your legs weak.

“Say something, Y/N. You know I only used you for pussy,” he spits, finally freeing your neck and leaving you to catch your breath, all the while showing him a scowl.

“You’re a fucking dick! I knew from the start you were a shitty person!” you cry out, smacking his chest a couple times upon remembering all the major red flags he portrayed at the beginning of your relationship. You were stupid enough to wave them off, thinking it was normal of him to be so possessive, so controlling, because it was your first serious relationship.

“You don’t mean that, Y/N.. you love me too much to move on,” he whispers, settling his hands on your hips and forcing you to turn around, pressing his lower half against the curve of your ass. “That’s why you’ll never be with Park Jimin.”

“Shut up.”

You never wanted to be with Jimin in the first place. Your silly little heart was too hung up on Yoongi, you couldn’t see yourself with anyone but him.

Your lack of defence proved his words correct and he softly brushed his hands through your hair, the gesture leaving your eyes rolling to the back of your head. As his hands move further down, they stopped at the the seam of your jeans, pulling the material towards him so he could rut himself against you harder.

“Yoongi—”

“—If you weren’t planning to date Jimin, you should’ve just said you wanted dick. We all know cock hungry sluts like yourself always come running back to their first..” his voice is low, mocking you as he swiftly pulls your skin-tight jeans down your thighs leaving enough room for his hardening erection to make home in the gap between your legs.

Your clothed cunt was throbbing along the base of his cock, small whimpers falling from your lips the moment your thighs squeezed around him.

Yoongi let out a guttural groan, briefly licking his lips before looking down to see the mess of your arousal dousing his cock. “Don’t be shy, Y/N.. we both know Jimin can’t give you what I can.”

Jimin.

Jimin could walk in at any moment, and for some reason, the anticipation was so exhilarating to the point you pushed yourself back against him, forcing the tip of his cock to slide into with ease as you gasped.

“That’s right, baby. No one can’t treat you as good as I do,” he continues, using one hand to push the side of your face against the tempered glass, as the other wrapped around your abdomen, using you as support for him to keep at his ruthless pace.

“You gonna let me fuck you as I please, huh? Watch me fuck five other girls before I even get to you, yeah?” Each sentence left shooting pain in your chest, but the immeasurable pleasure you were receiving clouded that negativity.

“Yes, yes— use me.. I promise I’ll be good—!” you didn’t mean to sound so pitiful, but your compliance was so endearing to him, it made you stand out from the rest.

“I know, baby, I know..” Yoongi trails off, basking in the way your walls would grip tightly around his cock, making it difficult for him to pull away. “God, look at you, you’re not gonna share with anyone else?”

You shook your head, breaking out into a broken sob as your head hung low, soaking in the immense pleasure and toxicity.

“Look up.”

Yoongi grabs a handful of your hair, pulling your head back up and forcing you to look straight ahead, only to see Jimin standing on the opposite side of the glass, food in hand and a stunned look on his face.

Embarrassment was washing over your body, and you thought Yoongi would stop, but his cock was still searing into you.

“Now, he’ll watch me fuck what he can never have.”

please do not repost my works onto any platforms.

[beneathashadytree]

maya! I hope you’re doing well!

i’ve been on a one piece kick lately and am literally obsessed lol. i was wondering if i could request a hurt/comfort one shot with trafalgar law. maybe reader is overly sensitive and takes something he says to heart? he’s not really the type to dwindle on things like that. So I def feel like he’d just not understand why reader is being so sensitive over something so trivial.

LEARN TO LOVE - TRAFALGAR LAW X READER

Warnings : a couple of curses, Law is kinda unintentionally mean and clumsy at love, this is not proofread, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : hurt/comfort, fluff!

Word count : 1.6K words

Additional notes : THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REQUESTING FOR ONE PIECE HOLY SHIT😭😭 I’m doing quite well, thank you 🥰 I’m literally hyperfixating on the show rn and no one ever requests for it 💔 Law might be a little ooc because I personally believe he’s on the autistic spectrum, and it makes perfect sense with this request. I absolutely adored writing this, please feel free to request at any time for more characters if you’d like! Hope you enjoy this 💗💗

Requests : Are open! Check the rules over here.

Want to support me financially? Here’s my CashApp!

Masterlist

Rubbing their temple with pure exhaustion from the draining one-sided argument they were currently having, they sighed deeply, closing their eyes for a moment. “Listen, Law, just… all I’m asking for is some of your time.”

Their boyfriend clicked his pen twice, setting it down on the desk as he heaved out heavily. “And I’m telling you that I’m busy and don’t have time to spare. That’s all.”

“Time to spare?” they echoed incredulously, eyes widening with disbelief. “You’re making it sound like I’m an extra that you might or might not make time for… not, I don’t know, maybe your partner?”

With a small wave of his hand, he gestured to the pile of papers in front of him, scribbled with his black ink. “I’m a doctor. I need to be up-to-date. You know that.”

A frustrated expression made its way on their face. “I’m not stopping you from doing your job. I just don’t think it’s normal for you to set our relationship as your last priority.”

“Never said it was.”

With a pointed look, they said, “You’ve implied it plenty enough with your actions. I’ve barely seen you this past week.”

Law only shook his head. He wasn’t particularly impatient, per se, he just simply disliked the interruption. It wasn’t easy to focus again once his train of thought was interrupted, and this discussion had dragged on for too long. Already he’d begun to forget where he’d been on the latest research paper he’d managed to get his hands on.

Before more thoughts could slip his mind, he turned back to his desk, crossing his leg as he picked his pen back up. He needed to wrap this up and set a later date for this discussion. “I have important shit to do right now. We’ll talk later tonight.”

Law had already long turned his attention back to his work before he could spot the horrified expression on their face, stunned by how off-handed his comment was and how uncaring he seemed to be of the effect of his words. The callousness behind them would’ve probably hurt less had they been intentional, but the fact that he had no idea how deep they cut only drove the knife in even further than their implication did.

He hadn’t even stayed around long enough to see the consequences of his actions in the form of their reaction, only turning back to what he deemed his priority at the moment. Nothing remained for them to do but to leave the room before their tears began to fall. It felt far too humiliating to do that with his back turned to them and hunched over his desk once more.

***

By the time Law had turned in for the night and got into their shared bedroom, they’d already been tucked in and fast asleep with their back facing him and a troubled look on their still face. Ruffling his hair awkwardly, he frowned a little. Hadn’t they wanted to talk about things earlier? It made no sense for them to not stay up for a little while when they had seemed so concerned that afternoon.

He didn’t dwell on it for long, instead slipping off his shirt and settling in for the night beside them. He’d get to the bottom of things later, when they’re both awake and free. Right now, he was positively knackered and could do with a proper rest—or as much as he could.

***

The following day had been twice as confusing as the note the night had ended on. Having woken up before them as he always did, he’d expected them to have breakfast in his quarters as they’d gotten used to, but he’d instead found himself dining on his own. Though he’d scowled at that, he’d brushed it off soon as he busied himself with finishing up some notes he had to write. It was always better to pen things down when he was focused.

Come lunchtime when he was finally finished up with his work, he’d found them leaning against the submarine’s rails, taking in the fresh saltwater air and sunshine while it lasted. With the intention of lingering outside, he’d walked up to them to perhaps strike up the conversation once more, but they’d promptly ignored him and stepped back inside. In all honesty, it left him a bit irritated; he clearly had no idea what was going on.

Weren’t they always the one insistent on communicating everything? More often than not he found himself having difficulty with that, and yet he’d always done his best to express himself and his emotions (to the best of his abilities, that is—which often were none). So what was this evasion of him about?

With these thoughts in mind, he followed them back into their shared room, where they lounged on a chair, book in hand and completely ignoring his presence in the room.

“Shouldn’t we be talking about what you had to say yesterday?” he asked, brow arched as their jaw tightened in response.

“What do you want me to say?” they spoke in a low and controlled voice, “You’ve already expressed how you feel about that matter.”

Law frowned as he walked up to them. “I haven’t said anything. I just told you we’d discuss it later.”

“After you’d reminded me that our relationship wasn’t important enough,” they snapped, finally setting their book down, “”I have important shit to do.” Really, Law? Is that how little you regard us?”

His expression only grew more confused at that. “What’s that got to do with anything? I was simply working and didn’t want to get distracted at the time.”

“The way you worded it, Law, that’s what fucking hurt,” they ground their teeth, eyes shimmering with what seemed to be unshed tears as they stood up and glared at him, “There was the implication that any issue concerning us and our relationship itself wasn’t important enough for you to prioritize. You deny that being the truth, but your actions clearly speak louder than your words.”

Law was still none the wiser after they’d ranted. It wasn’t that he was particularly invalidating how they felt, but he truly didn’t understand how they’d come up with this conclusion after one single sentence he’d said. Perhaps the core of the problem being their request for more time spent together was the cause for this, but he failed to understand how his words had upset them.

To him, no matter how he’d worded it, he’d only meant that he’d needed to finish up some readings before he could give them his full attention. In all honesty, it felt a little too trivial for him to get.

However, the way they looked up at him with tears that threatened to spill over their lashes and a deeply wounded look in their eyes, he had to swallow that unnecessary commentary down. Despite everything, he hated seeing them so distraught, awkward as he felt when he knew little to nothing of how to properly comfort someone else. It was a brand new experience; learning how to love and be loved, and he’d come to realize how fragile of a thing that was.

Regardless of how he would’ve personally felt in their shoes, he forced himself to remember that not everyone reacts the same way to everything, and that emotional triggers are different from one person to the next. Besides, hadn’t he fallen for the way his lover always seemed to wear their heart on their sleeves? Hadn’t he thought it quite endearing that they were sensitive to their emotions and his as well? It wasn’t his place to dictate how they felt about things.

And so, with a slightly heavier heart than when he first stepped into the room, Law found himself gently taking off his hat and plopping it ontop of their head. It was far larger on them, and drooped in front of their eyes, but perhaps it was better that way. He’d rather not meet their eyes when he was feeling this sheepish and embarrassed by his actions.

“Sorry,” he gruffly apologized, patting their head, feeling a tug in his chest as they almost instantly sniffled in reaction to the small gesture, as though all they’d wanted was for him to recognize that he’d hurt their feelings. “Was just swamped over with work. I didn’t mean it like that.”

They sighed a little, sniffling twice afterwards. “I know, it just hurt.”

“Sorry,” he repeated, this time with a little more meaning and his heart pounding furiously for some reason. “I’ll make it up to you. Let’s sit and discuss how to better spend time together.”

Briefly, they glanced to the side, a trace of hesitance on their features. “I don’t want to be demanding—“

Huffing a little with exasperation, he pulled them into his chest. The embrace was a little stiff, even he had to admit, but he hoped that the message came across loud and clear. Their head nestled into his chest, and the comforting warmth had him inhaling shakily as he took his hat off them before he spoke again. “You’re not. You’re asking for the bare minimum.” His hand was gentle as his fingers brushed through their hair; the one affectionate gesture that came naturally to him. “Sit down with me. Help me fix up a better schedule.”

Pulling back from his hug, they clumsily wiped at their eyes, removing all traces of tears from them as they took a seat on the bed. “Better fit in six hours of sleep too.”

Without meeting their eyes, their boyfriend hummed as he sidled in beside them. “We’ll see about that.”

“Law…”

Taglist: @stories-that-shaped-me @finch-ya @wifeofkyojuro @livwritesfics

[meowzfordayz]

they comfort you after your pet dies — obanai, sanemi, giyuu, tengen

Author’s Note: not quite sure what to put here 😅, so just know that my heart goes out to anyone who feels this in their gut. 🥺💗

they comfort you after your pet dies  — obanai, sanemi, giyuu, tengen

Iguro Obanai x Reader, Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader, Tomioka Giyuu x Reader, Uzui Tengen x Reader

Word Count: ~1,500

CW: implied pet death

Emergency Request Fulfilled: My family cat has passed away. He was 18 and died in his sleep. Its been very hard. My grandpa gave him to me as a birthday present when I was 9. Now I’m 21 and it feel like a huge part of me as died.

I was wondering if you could write a preference of how giyuu, sanemi, Obanai and tengen help comfort a female reader who lost her pet.

kyojuro comforts you after your pet dies

~faqs~

“Your feet are cold,” Obanai murmurs, hot fingers squeezing your bare toes.

“Then tuck them in,” you huff, gesturing at the blanket strewn across your bodies, fond smile meeting his gaze from the other end of the couch, your heels burrowing deeper into his lap.

“Actually, I bought you socks.”

Oh? your eyes widen curiously as he gently wiggles out from under your legs, bending over to press a kiss to your knee before turning and hurrying to the bedroom But I have plenty of socks?

“Close your eyes,” he announces, socks held behind his back as he returns, “And absolutely no peeking.”

Snorting, your eyes close, shuffling audible as he steps toward you, confusion pinching your brow when he pushes lightly at your open hands, apparently not giving you the socks.

“Oba-?”

And then Obanai’s grasping your ankle, endeared chuckle filling his throat as you squeak. Oh your nose crinkles, cheeks warming while he begins tugging a sock up your foot, ensuring the heel fits snugly, smoothing any creases as it settles around your calf. Eyes still closed, you wait for him to tug on the other sock, contented hum on the tip of your tongue, shy giggle bursting as he stands and touches his lips to your forehead.

“You can look.”

Peering downward, your breath catches, blinking quickly, chest tightening. So familiar you gasp, tears welling, reaching blindly for his steadiness I miss you.

“I wasn’t sure if they’d help or, well, make you feel worse,” he rasps, heart aching as you cling to him, “But they reminded me of, you know, and I figured, if it were me, then I’d appreciate the sentiment.”

Nodding into his sweater, you hiccup loudly, eyes bright as you laugh shakily, voice stuffy, “Both. Definitely both. I love them, they’re amazing socks, but I feel so sad.”

And Obanai understands: understands that love has its weight. Understands that carrying someone, something, is heavy — an iron token nestled in one’s soul. Just as he knows, watching the wet splotch on his sweater grow bigger and bigger, that love’s weight is the greatest gift of all.

“I can pick you up,” Sanemi insists, “Or you could go tomorrow?”

“I don’t mind walking,” you sigh, fumbling with your phone as you eye the flowers on the kitchen countertop.

He snorts, “It’s pouring,” tone softening, “Idiot.”

“I’m a dedicated idiot, thank you very much,” you scoff, “You know it’s not far.”

“And you know I’m happy to drive you.”

Silence stretches between you as you mute yourself, inhalations deepening, vision blurring.

“Babe?” he’s cautious now, missing the reassuring static of comfortable quiet, “Are you okay?” muffled movement loud on his end, “Still there?”

Swallowing thickly, you unmute, picking at your bottom lip before clearing your throat, “Yeah, yeah. Sorry, still here,” pausing to pat at your tears, “You’re sure you don’t mind driving me? I just, I can’t do tomorrow. Tomorrow isn’t right. It was today, you know?”

“Would you prefer to go alone?”

He waits for you to process his question: a gentle, patient waiting — car keys in his pocket if you want his physical presence, route from his apartment to your apartment to your childhood home long ago memorized; schedule cleared for the remainder of the day if you’d rather his company over the phone. 

“Idon’tknow?” your eyes squeeze tightly, headache looming at the base of your skull, “It’s pouring. You don’t have to come.”

“I miss them too,” he murmurs, already turning off his apartment’s lights, umbrella in hand as he unlocks his front door, “I’d like to come, if that’s okay?”

You nod once, twice, face warming when you remember you’re on the phone.

“Okay.”

—

Sanemi arrives, later than anticipated, cradled flowers accompanying him.

“You didn’t have to,” you smile weakly, fingers wrapping around his elbow.

“I told you,” he frowns faintly, mouth grazing your hair, “I miss them too.”

You follow him, heavy adoration in your chest as he opens the passenger side for you, waterlogged leaves sticking from your shoes to the floor mat, clinging to his wrist for a fleeting moment, fingernails digging into his skin.

“Thank you.”

—

Somehow, Sanemi’s flowers compliment yours, colors smeared vibrant amid the deluge, glistening raindrops sliding off delicate petals into thoroughly soaked soil.

“This is nice,” he whispers, kneeling behind you.

And you know he doesn’t mean death itself, but getting to revisit and reminisce — getting to hold on so closely to a loss so dear and devastating, blossom of grief unfurling in your gut, its annual display of joyful memory and aching consequence an infinite cycle.

“Mhm,” you sniffle, “And sad.”

Firm palms rest upon your shoulders in agreement, everything else unspoken as you lean back into his promise of I’ve got you. All the while rain continues to fall.

“You don’t have to give anything away,” Giyuu’s voice is soft, gentle fingers wrapping lightly around your wrist.

“It’s just taking up space,” you retort, water bowl clattering noisily into the cardboard box, various toys already filling up half the space.

“I have room in the back of my car. You could keep everything there for a bit?”

“Why would I-” eyes stinging as you pick up the food bowl, “Why are you making this harder for me?” shoulders collapsing inward, sob stifled.

Solid arms embrace you, grief overflowing as the scent of his sweatshirt envelops you, low groan sticky in your lungs. Task promptly forgotten, you cling to his touch, wishing once again that you were just moving apartments, just reselling older items, just doing spring cleaning, just something besides, just… goodbye.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, kisses warm and grounding across your cheeks as he holds you,  “I’m so sorry.”

And you know Giyuu means it, just as you know it isn’t his fault. Goodbye and its aftermath, wanting it to go away even as you need it to stay — he has nothing to be sorry for.

“Y-you have r-room?” you mumble, words watery, chest heaving.

“Maybe it was too soon to do this part,” he murmurs, not condescendingly, but with a weighted tenderness, “Even if it’s taking up space, that space is important, and that’s okay. It’s okay to continue cherishing it, and it’s okay to fear missing it, to fear losing it.”

“To fear losing it?” you scoff weakly, “It’s lost, Giyuu. They’re gone.”

And he knows how badly it hurts, how deeply that loss integrates with the remainder of you — how it redefines the way you walk through the world, a steady grey meandering behind the priceless brightness of before.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, palms cupping your face, “I know they’re gone. It sucks.”

“It does,” you chuckle wryly, chin heavy as exhaustion sinks into your posture, “It really sucks.”

“We can try tomorrow?” his tone careful, forehead bumping yours.

You nod simply, “Okay,” eyes closing, “Tomorrow.”

Giyuu traces I love you up your thigh as you sit together, living room cluttered, that special spot on the carpet no longer occupied, couch forever safe from unsolicited scratching, throw blanket unwashed, tufts of fur a bittersweet reminder.

“Would you like to host a funeral?”

“A funeral?” you raise an eyebrow, tired amusement in your stare.

“I don’t mean to be insensitive!” Tengen clarifies quickly, large hands settling on your shoulders, “But funerals can be… healing! A time for reflection and gratitude,” frowning slightly, “We can make it joyous, a celebration of their life.”

“That sounds wonderful,” you smile softly, fingers reaching to playing with the hem of his shirt, “But isn’t that a bit… much?”

“A bit much?!” his eyes widen in mock offense, “One can never be too flashy! Besides, they deserve more than much! They deserve… a lot!”

“Tengen, do you want to host a funeral or a party?” you ask, not unkindly.

“I want to host whatever you want,” he declares immediately, hands moving to interlock behind you, broad chest warm as he hugs you, “You don’t have to pretend for me, my love. You can be as bold or as subtle with your grief,” voice quieter, “But I know you feel it, and I hope you know I care.”

A lopsided grin crinkles your cheeks as you slip your hands under his shirt, cool fingertips scratching mindlessly at his lower back, heart full of aching and adoration, “I know you care. I’m just…” exhaling slowly, “Overwhelmed.”

An understanding hum vibrates through Tengen’s rib cage, his body beginning to sway, soundless rhythm coaxing your feet onto his, silent dance of loss and patience filling the dining room. You giggle when he unexpectedly dips you, head tilted backward, shining eyes meeting shining eyes, glistening in a moment of pure just because.

“We don’t have to invite anyone,” he murmurs, balancing you upright again, “We could be the hosts and the guests.”

“Will we dance?”

“We can absolutely dedicate a dance to them.”

“Then maybe we could host… something,” you pause, stepping off his feet, rising onto your tiptoes, feather light kiss to his jaw, “A lot.”

[i4sgwr]

no but what about softly waking armin up by peppering light soft kisses to his face, whispering the sweetest words to his ear, massaging and caressing him all over,,, just overall fluff and gently coaxing him outta dreamland to your loving reality w soft morning talk🤧💗 (sorry i get so emotional seeing him all insecure and hurt in aot i just wish he was real so i could give him all the love and affection in the world🥺

7:00 AM ꔛ Armin A.

ꕤ warnings: gn!reader, fluff, established relationship

ꕤ word count: 0.3k

. . . i literally loveeee writing morning fluff; morning cuddles & what not. it's my favorite

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!

He always looked so peaceful as he slept. It always put a smile on your face. You could only assume that his peaceful slumber was a result of his contentment with life — that regardless of what went on at work or whatever he endured before he met you didn’t matter, because he got to sleep beside you every night.

You scoot a bit closer to him, brushing his hair out of his face. He unconsciously scrunches his nose, stirring in bed but not waking up. Precious, you think to yourself, unsuccessfully resisting the urge to cup his cheek. Your thumb caresses his skin, appreciating its warmth. 

“I love you so much,” you whisper, not caring that he likely wouldn’t hear you. 

Admirably, you move your hand to run your fingers through his hair, tenderly kissing his briefly exposed forehead. Armin hums, a most likely drowsy response to feeling your lips on his skin. You can’t help but ghost your fingers over his face — tracing the shape of his eyebrows, down his face, to gently swipe his lower lip with your thumb.

“I love you,” you mutter again, a bit louder than the first time.

He suddenly smiles in his sleep, presumably because he was beginning to wake up. You didn’t mean to wake him, though it’s not like you’d mind having him awake. 

“Armin?” you question, caressing his cheek once more.

His eyes flutter open but only for a moment. The sun peaking through the blinds was quite bright to him, knowing he had just been sleeping. He squints, yet he wears a grin, happy that you’re the first thing he saw.

“G’morning,” he mumbles, closing his eyes again.

“Good morning,” you say, kissing the tip of his nose.

He tilts his head up just a bit, implying he wanted a proper kiss. So you kiss him, smiling against his lips when he does the same. He says he loves you through slurred words, making you giggle when you return his words of affirmation. You separate, and lace your fingers through his hair again. The two of you then lie in comfortable silence, only the distance chirping of the birds from outside filling your ears.

taglist! [ @snake-titan @discordkittenjoestar @erwnsmith @bunnyyamor @ofallthingswhythis @arlertwitch @thatonerandomsimpinthecorner ]

[jobean12-blog]

Hey are requests open? Because I want to request a Bucky x reader fic where he gives the reader soft neck kisses when he realizes one day that it makes them melt and just fluffy stuff leading up to sexy times? If you can't do it then it's totally understandable and I hope you have a nice day❤❤ Ps, I love your oneshots and series, literally read and reread so many of your work cuz I love them so much and they bring me so much comfort❤❤💗💕💗 and sorry if there are some grammar mistakes, English isn't my first language😅 (oops I rambled sorry about that. I do it often without noticing😭)

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Word Count: 559

Summary: Bucky's comes back late from a mission but he makes it up to you.

Author's Note: This is for the HBC's @the-ss-horniest-book-club Candy Hearts Club Even and day 4 (feb 15th): I luv you, Kiss me, Page me, Love Me Tender. Again, no actual candy hearts but I did use the words as inspo! Thank you so much for your kind words anon! So glad you're enjoying my work and nevery worry, you didn't ramble at all! HUGS! Hope you enjoy, have a good day! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always!❤️❤️❤️ Divider by my sweet @firefly-graphics thank you bunches!💕

Warnings: lots of kisses, teasing, Bucky and reader are both cheeky, it's sexy and implied smut (18 + ONLY PLEASE!!!)

Gif NOT MINE: Credit goes to @mcavoys thank you so much! 🥰

“Aw don’t be mad doll face. You know I got here as quickly as I could.”

You flatten your palms against his chest and grab fistfuls of his Henley. He smirks when you open your mouth but before you can give him a cheeky retort his lips skim along the delicate column of your neck. It makes your breath hitch and the words die on your parted lips.

You let your head fall to the side and he takes the opportunity to trail feather light kisses down your skin until he meets your pulse point and gently sucks on the soft flesh.

“You’re in big trouble Sergeant Barnes,” you murmur through your gasps.

“Let me make it up to ya,” he whispers into your skin.

He takes your chin between his metal fingers and tilts your head, allowing him better access to your jaw and neck.

“I hate waiting,” you sass.

With a hum he pulls your earlobe between his teeth, only releasing it when you pant out his name and dig your fingers into his biceps.

“The mission ran late,” he murmurs. “But I’m here now and I’m all yours.”

He presses his hips into you and you tease your bottom lip between your teeth, the outline of his hard cock digging into your stomach.

“All mine,” you purr.

You let your hands fall to his chest, fingers wandering over his abs and down to his hips to remove both guns. Your fingertips slide lower, tracing his thigh until you reach the hidden knife and pull it free. You carefully place the weapons on the table and sweep your hands upwards before grabbing the chain of his dog tags.

With a raised brow you drag his face closer. “Better start making it up to me then,” you simper.

His large hands frame your face and his thumb traces your lips. You slide your fingers to his forearms and grip his wrists, guiding his metal hand lower until it settles at the base of your neck.

Blue eyes darken and he lets out a predatory growl, his fingers applying more pressure. He holds you in place and ghosts his warm lips down your throat, tasting your skin every inch of the way. When they reach your collarbone he brushes them softly along it and then upwards until they graze the spot just below your ear.

His jaw tenses when you whisper, “more,” and he tightens his grip around your neck. It steals your breath but not as much as the press of his mouth to yours, which starts out slow and soft but quickly grows desperate with the slide of his tongue between your teeth.

His lips caress yours and you moan into his mouth, arching into his body. The hand around your throat softens its grip and he pulls the sound from you again. Slowly he drops his metal hand and gathers your wrists between his fingers, lifting your arms above your head and pinning them to the wall.

He pulls away and watches your eyes as his thigh spreads your legs, the thick muscle and fabric of his tactical pants creating the friction you need. Your head rolls back along the wall and your eyes threaten to close.

“Don’t baby doll,” he warns. “Eyes on me. I want to see that beautiful face when ya fall apart.”