#Spot jogging for toning

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader

Summary: Everyone at HQ was convinced there was something going on between you and Miguel. Just...no one knew what. But one group of spiders were determined to figure it out.

Warnings: None! Just a lot of goofiness and a whole lot of fluff :3

When you have a superhuman with superior senses, they’re bound to be perceptive to their surroundings. Now when you have an entire lobby the size of multiple football fields filled with superhumans with superior senses, very few things will go unnoticed.

It’s why people very quickly realize that you and Miguel have…something between the two of you. It’s just that no one is quite sure what.

Camaraderie? Maybe, you were one of the first spiders to join the society.

Friendship? Perhaps, but it was known that Miguel wasn’t one to do friends. Not with the amount of loss he has gone through.

A relationship? This one seemed the most unplausible. Miguel was, well, Miguel. Stoick, cold and calculating. Meanwhile, you were you.

You had a light that drew people in, kindness that knew no bounds and warmth like a fire on a cold winter’s day.

Everyone knew the saying ‘opposites attract’, but it was like comparing night and day with the two of you. Regardless, a small little group within the society were set on trying to figure the two of you out.

~

“Ain’t no way the two are together, she’s too good for him!” Hobie argues, his legs kicked up on the table in front of him.

“I don’t know, maybe that’s why they work together. Because she makes him better?” Miles says, but his tone of voice failed to hide his skepticism.

“I think you should just leave the two of them be. Besides, what happens if you figure it out or not anyway?” Peter says, feeding Mayday as he does. Immediately a chorus of arguments breaks out from the group.

“OKAY! Okay, forget I asked,” he says with a shake of his head, while Mayday just laughs at the commotion.

They spot the two of you walking into the cafeteria making conversation none of them could make out.

“Look at them,” Gwen says, “have you ever seen the guy happier than he is with her?” she asks, and Hobie snorts.

“C’mon mate, you call that happy? Mans got that frown tattooed on his face, can he even be happy?” he says, but they all continue watching intently.

You glance over to the table they were surrounding, and they all brush off your gaze pretending as though they weren’t just studying the two of you like specimens under a microscope.

You wave your hand, a bright smile on your face while Miguel only glances over for a moment before continuing to walk. You jog to catch up to him, grabbing a tray and picking up things you wanted for lunch.

They watch as they see Miguel pick up the empanada, the last one left. He pauses for a split second, holding it before turning to place it on your tray. Almost as though they were straight out of a cartoon, they freeze at the interaction.

You seem to be slightly surprised as you, saying something to him but he only brushes you off before continuing on.

“Did…that just happen?” Pavitr asks. Everyone at HQ was aware of Miguel’s fondness for the food (even if he did hurl one right at Miles when they first met), there was no way he would give one away so easily for just anyone, right?

“Somebody pinch me,” Gwen says, and Hobie jumps at the request.

“OW!”

~

Miguel never lets anyone help him out when he’s injured. That was just a known fact. He could walk into HQ battered and bruised and wouldn’t even look in the infirmary’s direction once. After depending on himself for so long, he wasn’t going to stop now. Besides, what were First Aid kits for after all?

The only way he was going to the infirmary was if someone dragged his unconscious body there themselves.

Well, unless you were there.

“Miguel O’Hara I swear to god, you better get your ass to the infirmary or so help me I will tie you up and drag you through the halls myself,” you say sternly as you both reemerge in the Lobby. The rest of the Spiders there continued with what they were doing, but their attention was zeroed in on you both.

“I’m fine,” he says, glaring at you as if trying to say ‘Just try’. Had you been anyone else, you would have backed down by now but you didn’t.

“You wanna test me right now? That was a nasty hit, I will not be letting it get infected under my watch,” you retort, and he puffs.

“This is nothing, I’ve dealt with worse,” he scoffs, and in an instant your finger shoots out, making contact with the side that got hit with the anomaly’s flames. Miguel can’t help the sharp intake of breath as the pain from the impact hits him.

Your eyebrow raises, an expression of disbelief on your face before it softens. Murmuring softly, you say something that only he can hear.

For a moment he studies your face before sighing, finally relenting. With a triumphant smile, you place a hand on the man’s broad back, leading him towards the infirmary with a gentle but firm hand.

There, Pavitr is laying in bed recovering from an awry mission of his own. The doctors had ordered bedrest for the next 2 hours at least. Superior healing or not, they were not going to risk it. So there he lay, slinging his golden bangles up and down bored before he hears the two of you come in.

“Mr. O’Hara-" a doctor’s voice can be heard, but he is quickly interrupted.

“She’s got it from here,” he says, Miguel’s tone final. A small “yes, sir” can be heard before footsteps fade away, the doctor’s office door closing once more.

“You know, you should really let the professionals help you,” your voice can be heard.

“You dragged me here, you can deal with the consequences,” he says, and you just laugh fondly before your voices quieten, murmuring too quietly for Pavitr to hear.

Curiosity builds as he recalls the conversation he and his friends had, and before he can stop himself he shifts silently to the side, just enough to be able to catch a glimpse of you both from the small gap between the hospital curtain and the wall.

There, Miguel sat on the bed, a disgruntled expression on his face but his eyes were soft as he watched you fuss over his side.

He only watches for a few seconds before pulling away, this being a clear invasion of privacy, and his boss’ privacy no less.

It wasn’t going to stop him from telling everyone else though.

~

“This is a bad idea. This is a really, really bad idea,” Miles says, grasping onto the ceiling like his life depended on it.

“It’s only a bad idea if we get caught, so Shut. Up,” Gwen says sharply, hanging from her place on the ceiling as they watched the fight from above.

Gwen had come up with the mighty fine idea of sneaking into a mission between the two of you. It wasn’t often that it happened, Miguel more often than not only went on missions with only Lyla by his side. But when he needed a partner, it was always you.

“Why did you have to bring me with you,” he whispers, “Miguel already doesn’t like me. He doesn’t need more of a reason to.”

“Because I needed backup and you can turn invisible. And let’s be real, Hobie would be laughing his ass off getting us caught, Peter would bring Mayday which would get us caught, and Pavitr is already on a mission, now shhh,” she whispers, turning back to watching the scene below.

You swung from pillar to pillar in the abandoned factory with practiced ease, a carefree laugh escaping your lips as Miguel stands on the ground fiddling with his watch.

“The anomaly’s last known location was here,” Lyla’s voice echoes out, and you let out a sigh.

“Why can’t villains have easy powers. Maybe a giant blob that is easy to take down? Why do they have to be so complicated? What’s this one again, a freaky shadow monster?” you think out loud.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Miguel retorts, glancing up toward you for a moment before turning back to Lyla. “Do a scan of the place, will you?”

“What do we say~” Lyla responds, and you giggle softly while Miguel huffs.

“Please,” he mutters.

“What was that?”

“Please, Lyla,” he says a little louder now, irritation growing in his voice.

“Already done,” the AI snickers, and he groans out loud as your laughter bounces off of the walls, a fist held out for Lyla to bump.

“The two of you will be the death of me,” he says lowly.

“Oh, don’t be like that, grumps. You’d be too stubborn to die,” you retort before tensing up, the hairs on the back of your neck rising with the familiar feeling of your heightened senses at work. The moment you sling yourself up is the moment a loud thud sounds out from where you once stood.

“Oh, I forgot to mention that the anomaly was in the far right corner,” Lyla says before disappearing.

“I really need to do a rewrite of her code,” Miguel mutters to himself.

In your previous spot emerges a dark figure, plumes of smoke emerging and dissipating from its form and allowing it to disappear into the shadows with ease.

With a simple nod, you get to work. Like a well-oiled machine, you work in practiced synchrony, bounding across the walls and slinging webs.

And just like that the anomaly is captured, the force field around it effectively trapping it for the ride back to HQ so it can be sent back to its own universe.

“That was…kinda lame,” you snicker, pulling off your mask

“Told you so,” Miguel says as he opens up a portal for you both, dragging the anomaly behind him.

“Don’t say that to me,” you pout.

“What, can’t handle the truth?” he retorts, a smirk playing across his lips as your bickering voices fade through the portal.

“…was that a smile,” Gwen asks as she watches the spot where they both had stood.

“Was that what it was?” Miles asks, a shudder racking through his body.

~

It was late at night at the HQ, and at this time everyone else had already gone back to their own universes. The few that lingered were the ones finishing up after a late-night mission.

Or, you were Peter B. Parker frantically searching through the kitchen for a bottle of milk for Mayday after a playdate with a select few spiders that went on for way longer than expected.

Mayday was an easy baby. Always happy and smiling, but that all disappears when she was hungry and you did not want a spider baby on a rampage.

“Alright, alright, give Daddy a few seconds to warm up your milk please?” Peter pleads as Mayday continues to babble angrily, crawling all over him.

She pauses for a moment, attention drawn elsewhere as she hangs off of her father’s back before leaping.

“Hey, lil spider!” You say with a laugh, catching her in your arms. “What are you doing here so late?” you ask.

“Playdate with Miles, Gwen and Hobie. Time really flew and she refused to leave until now,” Peter sighs tiredly, and you pat him on the back before putting her up onto your shoulders. “What are you doing here so late?”

You shrug, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard.

“Working late. Like you said, time really flew,” you say, but Peter knew that wasn’t the full truth.

“Working so hard that you need two cups of coffee?” he asks, holding out the bottle for Mayday to take, which is what she does happily as she snuggles up in her father’s arms.

“What can I say, caffeine doesn’t really work on me,” you grin, pouring the coffee from the machine. “Goodnight, Peter, Mayday,” you say, ruffling her red hair fondly.

And as quickly as you appeared, you disappear.

~

People didn’t often disturb the big boss man Miguel when he was working. Not if you wanted to stay on his good side.

It was even less often that someone barges into his room full of screens as he monitors the Archno-Humanoid Polymultiverse, let alone a group of them.

“We heard you talking to someone! And laughing,” Gwen says hesitantly as if she couldn’t even believe it herself. But she was invested in figuring out what the deal was between the two of you now.

“Well, do you see anyone around?” Miguel deadpans, his arms wide and gesturing around broadly. You could barely stifle the giggle as you sat on a beam high up on the ceiling, going unnoticed.

“W-well, no…But!” she says, and Miguel raises an eyebrow which makes Gwen shrink in her spot slightly before recovering. “But we heard you. There was someone here, wasn’t there?”

Hobie, ever the perceptive one tracks his eyes along the ceiling before spotting you swinging your legs with an amused look on your face. It seemed as though no one else had noticed though.

Miguel watches Hobie spot you and his eyes narrow in his direction, as if saying ‘I dare you to say anything’ to which the spider only raises his hands in mock surrender.

“No. There wasn't." He says, his tone final. "If that’s all you’re here for, I have important work to get to. So why don’t you go bother someone else, yeah?”

~

“I give up,” Gwen says, slumping in her chair. “We’re never going to figure it out.”

“Figure what out?” Jess asks, walking up to the group.

“Whether or not there is something going on between those two,” Miles says, nodding towards you and Miguel talking over in the corner of the room.

Jessica only hums, a knowing look in her eyes but she doesn’t say anything. Only asks a simple question.

“What makes you think so?”

“Everyone here knows that there’s something there, even if they want to admit it or not. She’s one of the few people he tolerates, they’re together almost all the time and he actually seems happy around her,” Gwen reasons.

“You could have just asked, you know,” you say, coming up on their conversation with an amused look on your face.

Their expressions range from flustered to simply amused and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles up as you make eye contact with Jess.

“And to answer the question,” you reach down your suit, pulling out a simple chain with a ring dangling off of the end.

“We’re actually married.”

The group goes silent for a moment, eyes wide as they stare at the necklace in your hands, trying to process your words.

Then, all hell breaks loose.

A/N: Hehe, I'm quite happy with this one :3 This is my first attempt at writing Miguel, sorry if I butchered him but I am absolutely hyperfixating on him after seeing ATSV in theatres yesterday.

Based on the prompt by @imslightlycreative though slightly changed :)) I hope you all enjoyed <3

Part two out now!! Read it here.

[pseudowho]

Nanami Kento was not a father; not strictly speaking. Not technically speaking. Not metaphorically speaking. The absence of paternity, however, did nothing to eschew him of the shackles he wore with pride, wearing them as a mantle; a medal of honour.

For one with such a black hole in his life, Itadori Yuuji would not notice Kento's absence unless something took Kento away from him, so natural was it that the void was filled.

Nanami Kento's priorities altered so dramatically, with such quiet consideration, that he had no real words to explain his situation to you when he first took you out for dinner. Or, when he took you out to the beach. Or, when you took him to that art gallery. Or, when you came over to his, tumbling through the door into stumbling kisses, all hands and groans and desperation.

For Nanami Kento was not a father. He ensured that his relationship with Yuuji did not overlap with his relationship with you, fearful that you would reject the burden of not-parenthood.

Kento was so introspective in his attempts to hide his not-parenthood, that he failed to see how blatantly-fucking-obvious he was. As if you wouldn't notice that dinner was always made for three, with a portion put aside or frozen for a hungry visitor. As if you wouldn't notice that Kento browsed the teenage boy sections in clothes stores, making note of what he would come back for later. As if you had not seen Kento listed as "I.C.E." on Yuuji's phone screen at school one day.

As if you were not a mother. As if you were not fully prepared to be.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Kento was stalking through the belly of the beast when he spotted two missed calls; one from Yuuji, and one from Shoko. His heart leapt into his mouth, his blade hanging dumbly by his side as he cursed internally at his lack of signal. Torn by conflicting responsibilities, he focused on the task at hand, but as a noticeably sloppier Sorcerer when worry gnawed at the bones of him.

An hour later, finally free, he jogged to his car, panting. He slipped into his seat, and called Yuuji-- no answer. He called Shoko-- no answer. He swore again, hurrying to start the car...and his phone buzzed.

He looked at the screen, and opened a message from you. He sat, staring at it, a cold trickle of worry down his spine. A photo; of Yuuji's characteristic shoes, beside your own, with the caption:

Picked up a wounded stray. He looks hungry. We'll be at yours soon!

Kento churned through emotions, trying to read your tone on the screen. Angry? Cheerful? Exasperated? Would you want to talk about his deceit later? Technically he hadn't lied. Or, he had. A lie by omission perhaps? She's angry. She's disappointed at least. Is that worse? That's worse.

Kento stewed, the whole drive home.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Kento continued to stew, when he arrived home to an empty house. He paced, and sat, and paced, and sat. He cursed himself for not maintaining tighter boundaries between Nanami-Kento-the-Boyfriend and Nanami-Kento-the-Not-Father. So deep was he in his self-flagellation, he jolted to hear the door open, and two familiar peals of laughter rolling through.

"--Ieiri-san told me I should have waited for Ino to arrive, but I just had to do something, y'know--"

"--not jump through a damn window, Yuuji, that's excessive--"

"--not stupid if it worked though--"

"--as your Not-Mother, I cannot condone this."

Kento stood, watching the scene unfold in wonder. You and Yuuji, bantering. You reaching for the grocery bags, and Yuuji insisting he carry them instead. You directing Yuuji to the bag with the snacks. Yuuji totally bypassing Kento, jogging past him to the kitchen.

As if this was his home. As if Kento was his home. As if you were his home.

Kento was still stunned into silence when you leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

"Hey! Sorry we're late. Yuuji was hurt on a mission, so I picked him up, but I wanted to get ice cream, and I noticed we didn't have enough in for dinner for three, and--"

Your words cut off with a muffled "mmf!" as Kento leaned down, pulling you in by the back of the neck, and small of your back, silencing you with a kiss which tasted of all the gratitude for which he had no words. By the time he'd released your lips, his forehead pressed to yours, you felt the air rush back to the vacuum he'd left behind.

"...Kento, are you oka--"

"I love you."

The air rushed straight back out of you, leaving you light and giddy. Your lips puckered, threatening tears, so long had you been wondering if he'd ever confess the depths of his feelings.

"...you love me?"

"I love you. I love you. I absolutely love you. And I'm sorry I didn't--..."

"...didn't think I'd be happy with you looking after a boy with no parents, who needs some?"

You let your question hang, so Kento could soak in how much of a fool he'd been. He sighed, tense and looking over at Yuuji rustling through grocery bags in the kitchen.

"...I didn't want to assume that you'd accept it."

"Would you choose someone like that, though?" Kento looked unsure, and you clarified. "I mean, would you choose someone who felt jealous of you looking after an orphaned child?"

Kento's gears turned. "...no."

You smiled up at him, cupping his cheek in your palm. "Exactly. So, like I was saying...I put fresh sheets in his room. I'll go and make dinner. Yuuji will pick a movie. And you should have a word with him about jumping through plate glass windows to get to a Curse faster."

At that, Kento's head snapped up, fixing Yuuji with a frown that had Yuuji dropping bags of snacks on the floor.

"Yuuji."

"Shit, I'm sorry Nanamin, I--"

"Language."

"Shit, I'm sorry Nanami-san, I--"

You headed to the kitchen, pulling on an apron and stifling laughter at the Not-Father and Not-Son bickering in your wake.

[maxlarens]

lando and 3💗💗

3) hiding face in neck

There’s a grin splitting its way across your face as you hustle through corridors and fight crowds across the paddock. You thought you’d be able to get away with watching the race in one of the fancy Miami VIP areas. You’d thought he’d do good but not this good— you shouldn’t have underestimated him.

P1. P1.

You should have started hustling to McLaren earlier in the race honestly, when he was leading and you had a sick feeling in your gut from the anticipation.

Whatever.

You’re sprinting like your life depends on it, flashing your lanyard and flagging down McLaren staff who recognise you so you can be let into areas that Lando or someone equally as important usually takes you through.

You’re waylaid just before you can hit the tarmac. Stopped by an obstinate security guard who you can’t really blame for just doing his job. You can see flashes of orange, bits of the car as you stand on your tiptoes to catch someone anyone’s eye.

“You have to let me through,” you say, “I am literally his best friend. He just won.” Then you’re seeing a Red Bull cap and you’re shouting, “MAX! Oi, Max!”

Max frowns, head turning in each direction until he finally spots you and the security guard who’s trying to hold you off. He rolls his eyes, then jogs over.

“You can let her through, mate,” he says, an exasperated edge to his tone that you will deal with later thank you very much, “She’s with Lando.”

You’re not with Lando, you want to bite back. Okay, technically in Max’s sense of the word you are.

Whatever.

The moment the security guard moves his arm you’re off like a shot, sparing only a second to pat Max’s arm in thanks. You take off onto the tarmac, out into the Miami sun. There’s the MCL38, there’s a sea of papaya behind a barricade, there’s Zak Brown and there’s Lando.

You thud into his side, almost knocking him into Zak as you throw your arms around his neck. Responding on instinct he catches you, one arm winding around your waist. You’re babbling as soon as you’ve got him in your grip— I’m so proud of you’s and I knew you could do it’s bubbling from your mouth as you try to stop from crying.

He’s laughing— giggling that shrill, joyful thing he does— as he twists around in your arms. He puts both arms around your waist, squeezes and lifts. And you don’t even care that he’s sweaty and smells bad, because he’s shoving his wet (from sweat, from tears) face into your neck and he’s hugging you like he doesn’t want to let go.

[kiemiu]

an average day w/ bf!matt <3 | ( fem!reader ) fluff + soft hours. established relationship drabble wc 1.6k (library) + (request) warnings -> one use of y/n

9:51am - a tattooed arm weighs heavy across your abdomen as you slowly adjust your eyes to the morning light shining through the curtains. careful stretches and quiet groans leave you as you twist in matt's grip. his arm only hooking around you significantly tighter at your movement. you lie still for a moment before turning towards him, his head remains buried deep into your neck. "matt, baby. cmon, time to get up." you whisper hoarsely, as you tap at his arm. he pretends to continue sleeping as you poke and prod at him to get up. he lowly groans in response before turning over to his side of the bed, his arm still hooked around your waist as he lazily flips you over his body to cradle you into his chest. "5 more minutes, please?" he tiredly grumbles before throwing his leg over you, swiftly pulling you as close as he possibly could. you only sigh in response before relaxing in his grip, knowing that you'd be there for another hour or so.

11:32am - sudden rapid knocks wake you up from your second wave of sleep. chris's voice being heard behind the door as he twisted at the locked door knob. "matt, come on, you said you'd take me to target today." his voice clearly laced with irritation as he banged his fist on the door, louder and louder. "oh my fucking god." matt grumbled his grip on you becoming tighter, cradling your head into his chest before he slightly lifted himself up to shout out "alright chris, i heard you! give me a fucking second." before plopping himself back to his original spot. there was silence on the other side of the door before chris responded "finally, you got 20 minutes!" his voice getting more and more faint as he walked down the hallway. you gently patted matt's chest in comfort before hoisting yourself up and heading to the bathroom. "taking a shower, baby?" he asked, his voice much softer this time. you only hummed in response, lingering by the door, knowing what he'd ask you next. "can i join?"

12:59pm - you slowly pushed the cart, one of matt's arm hooked around your waist as your eyes trailed over the selection of frozen treats. "baby, we already have enough ice cream at home." matt softly whined, his hand affectionately gripped your hip while his thumb gently massaged your clothed skin. "yeah, but you always eat it all. i want something for myself this time." you tease before your eyes land on what flavor you want. "that's—not true." he grumbled with a half-hearted eye roll, knowing you were right. "mmm, i think i'm gonna go with the classic cookie dough." you mutter to yourself before breaking away from him to reach in and grab a small tub of ice cream. just as soon as you set your treat in the cart, chris ran up with a wide smile. "dude, we have to get this! it's the last one on the shelf." he exclaimed excitedly while holding a batman themed lego set, nervously switching from one foot to the other as he waited for your approval to set it down in the cart. matt had a conflicted look on his face as one of his hands mindlessly played with the end of your jacket. just as matt was opening his mouth to say 'no', you interjected with a wide smile and a cheery "of course." making chris throw the set into the cart before jogging away to look at more things he didn't need. "he's gonna go bankrupt if you keep encouraging him." he reprimanded, no malice in his tone while he took over the job of pushing the cart as it started to get too heavy. "oh, shush. you wanted it just as bad."

2:46pm - matt's hand that rested on your thigh reached up to turn down the volume of his music. "sweetheart, can you look up something for us to eat? i'm getting hungry." he asked, his eyes focused on the road as he reached for his phone that rested on the arm rest and handed it to you. you hummed in response before scrolling through various food locations. "can we get red robin? their fries are so good and i'd kill for one of their burgers right now." you asked even as you already started to type in the address. "oh, that'd be so fucking good right now." chris chimed in from the back, his mouth full of potato chips. matt's face scrunched up in slight disgust at the sound of crunching coming from chris. "yeah, that's fine. chris, text nick and ask if he wants anything— and don't get any crumbs on my fucking seats. thanks." matt muttered before resting his hand back on your thigh.

3:33pm - you laid sprawled out on the couch after finishing your meal. a movie you hadn't really been paying attention to played on the tv as you cuddled closer to matt, his hand under your shirt and resting on your stomach. "sleepy?" he quietly asked, his lips resting on the side of your face before pressing gentle pecks across your skin. you only hummed in confirmation, a lazy nod following as you leaned into more of his kisses. "hm, go lay down. i'll clean up and come up in a sec." he dismissed, before gently patting your stomach. you stretched your arms out before walking back to his room, falling on his bed as soon as it was in reach. you could hear him faintly talking to his brother as you didn't close the door all the way. "me and y/n are gonna take a nap. if you need anything, don't ask." you heard matt say as the sound of his voice got closer. you didn't move when you heard the door close behind you, keeping your eyes closed even as you laid sprawled across his entire bed. matt set the multiple water bottles on his nightstand before laying on top of you, laughing at the strained groan you let out. "make room for me and mr. wrinkleton,"

7:22pm - you woke up to the sound of matt's pc turning on. your head lifting up to see him already looking at you with a timid expression. "sorry, baby. i was gonna stream a little with chris. didn't mean to wake you up." he explained apologetically. "its okay." you whispered, knowing you would've woken up sooner or later with the amount him and chris shouted. you stretched before making your way out of the room. "you're leaving?" you heard him ask as soon as you opened his bedroom door. "yeah, i wanna go hang with nick while you stream." you admitted, leaning against his door frame. "oh, okay...gimme a kiss before you go." he said, his head tilted back on his gaming chair, his lips pursed in the air as he waited for you to give him what he wanted. you rolled your eyes playfully before sauntering over to him, resting your hands on the side of his face and tilting his head up before slotting your lips against his. the kiss lingered on longer than you intended as the tip of his nose brushed against your cheek. "love you, pretty." he whispered, dazed as you broke away from the kiss, his eyes going back and forth from your lips and eyes. "i love you more." you replied with a smile before pressing a quick departing peck on his lips and closing the door behind you.

10:01pm - you and nick giggled uncontrollably while filming your 3rd tik tok together that would most likely go straight to his drafts. you rewatched it over and over again, clutching your stomachs and doubling over in laughter as you watched the two of you do stupid stunts. tears forming in your eyes as you both sat on the floor together thinking of the next video you'd film together. there was a soft knock on the door, halting your shenanigans. "what?" nick yelled out before the door opened. it was matt, and his eyes immediately landed on yours, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "you guys wanna come down and play uno with me and chris?" he asked, chris peeking behind his shoulder with his hands clasped together in a pleading manner. "fine, but be prepared to lose." nick answered as all of you started to make your way towards the living room, matt straying behind to hook his arm around your waist.

12:11am - multiple games went by, everyone having their fair share of wins but nick ultimately coming out as the winner. "get your skills up, bitches." being his final statement before he made his way back to his room, his head held high at his victory. the rest of you retreat to your bedrooms, the night starting to feel heavy as you and matt once again retreated back to his room with a handful of snacks in your arms. deciding to continue watching the series you started together, you happily munched on your snacks, adding in your own shared commentary, and rewinded the parts that made you laugh.

3:44am - after a few episodes you transcended into gravity falls, quietly listening as matt told you all of the lore he knew and gushed on about his favorite episodes. seeing you yawn made him realize how late it had gotten, you insisted that you weren't tired, despite your droopy eyes telling a different story. matt didn't press the issue, only smiling when he looks over a few minutes later to see you passed out sleeping. once the episode ended, he wasted no time shutting the tv off and tucking you in, giving you a kiss on the forehead as he cuddled as close to you as he possibly could. "sweet dreams, pretty girl."

' 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ' 🎁: @emely9274 @ginswife @chrisstvrns @conspiracy-ash @sturnina @lovetaylorrussellgrr @nervoussagittarius @sacaydia @chrissturnsss @hearts4werka @chrisprincesss @koilaniazul @starsforu @sturn777 @sturniolosiphone @chrisfavoritewhore @sturnsmia @leaningoutthewindow

[sweetlyvibe]

✎ . . . their reaction to you accidentally MATCHING

- 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. 𝖲𝗎𝗇𝖺 𝖱𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎 ⋆ 𝖠𝗍𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗎 𝖬𝗂𝗒𝖺 ⋆ 𝖪𝖾𝗇𝗆𝖺 𝖪𝗈𝗓𝗎𝗆𝖾 ⋆ 𝖮𝗂𝗄𝖺𝗐𝖺 𝖳𝗈𝗈𝗋𝗎

Rintarou walked into the café where you’d agreed to meet, his eyes lazily scanning the crowd until they landed on you. He stopped in his tracks, raising an eyebrow at your outfit. It wasn’t anything fancy—oversized sweatshirt, black joggers, and sneakers—but it looked eerily similar to what he was wearing.

A smirk tugged at his lips as he slid into the seat across from you. “Nice outfit,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Trying to copy me or something?”

You blinked in confusion, looking him up and down before realizing the unintentional match. “Oh my gosh, I didn’t even notice!” you said, your cheeks warming. “This wasn’t on purpose, I swear!”

Rintarou leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Sure it wasn’t,” he teased, resting his chin on his hand. “I mean, I don’t blame you. I do have great taste.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide your smile. “Well, maybe I’m just naturally stylish, and it happens to overlap with yours.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, okay. Just don’t be surprised if people start thinking we’re a couple or something.” His teasing smirk softened as he added, “Not that I’d mind.”

Kenma was sitting on his gaming chair, eyes glued to the screen, when you walked into the room wearing a hoodie almost identical to his usual oversized one. He glanced up for a second, then did a double take.

“Is that… my hoodie?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

You looked down at yourself, realizing the similarity but shaking your head. “Nope, it’s mine. But I guess it does look like something you’d wear.”

Kenma’s lips quirked up into a small smile as he paused his game. “It suits you.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh? So, you’re saying you have good taste?”

He shrugged, looking away to hide the faint pink on his cheeks. “I guess.”

Sitting down beside him, you added, “Maybe I’ll start dressing like you all the time. We can be a matching duo.”

Kenma gave a soft chuckle, his shyness peeking through. “As long as you don’t take my actual clothes, I guess I wouldn’t mind.”

Atsumu was leaning against the gym doors, scrolling through his phone as he waited for you. The moment you arrived, his eyes widened slightly as he took in your outfit—a clean, sporty jacket paired with joggers and sneakers that mirrored his own style.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said, walking toward you with an exaggerated grin. “Are ya tryin’ to copy me or somethin’?”

You blinked, confused, until you glanced at his outfit and saw the resemblance. “Oh no, this wasn’t on purpose, I promise!” you said, laughing nervously.

Atsumu crossed his arms, pretending to be serious. “Sure it wasn’t. Admit it, Y/n, ya just wanna look as cool as me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, because nothing screams ‘fashion icon’ like your sweatpants,” you teased back.

He laughed, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “Don’t worry, babe. Ya pull it off better than I do anyway.”

His tone was playful, but the way he looked at you—his eyes soft and full of admiration—told you he really meant it.

Tooru spotted you in the stands before the game even started, his eyes immediately locking onto your outfit. The loose-fitting button-up shirt tucked into straight-leg pants looked like something straight out of his wardrobe. He smirked to himself as he jogged over to you during warm-ups.

“Y/n,” he called, leaning casually against the barrier, “are you trying to outshine me with my own style?”

You tilted your head, confused. “What are you talking about?”

He pointed to your outfit, then gestured to his own. “We’re practically twins today.”

You glanced at his clothes, then back at yours, groaning when you realized the unintentional match. “Oh no, I didn’t even notice! I swear this wasn’t planned!”

Tooru laughed, clearly amused. “Don’t worry, I’ll let it slide this time. But you do realize everyone’s going to think you’re my biggest fan, right?”

You rolled your eyes, but he reached out to gently adjust your collar, his tone softening. “Honestly, you look amazing. Maybe we should match more often.”

His teasing grin lingered, but the way his eyes shone with affection made your heart flutter.

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

Read your post about something other than angst for Simon so I have a thought that needs to get out. Morning routine with Simon. Obviously, the man is military and has a strict routine but that all goes to shit with you. Sleeping in, lazy lunch, all that cute couples shit but with Simon.

hello! tyvm for sending this idea! cute and silly couple’s domestic fluff is sweeettt!! I hope you will enjoy this :D 💖

A Day of A Cute (and Silly) Couple - Simon Riley*Reader

[6:00]

Simon doesn’t need an alarm, he automatically wakes up at 6 am.

Jogging is an important part of his morning routine when he’s on leave, a nice way to maintain his stamina, and to keep him from getting too loose.

“Where you... going...”

Oh, he forgets he has an unavoidable barrier, between him and his morning jog.

Simon looks down at you, clenching at the hem of his shirt. Your eyes aren’t even open, you just catch him in instinct and now refusing to let go.

“Go for a jog, you know it, love.” The calmness of morning makes him explain in a soft tone unconsciously.

“Stay... please...”

“You can hug your blåhaj first, I will be back soon, yeah?”

“You feel better than blåhaj...”

“...”

It’s too cruel for him to just leave you here, not when you choose him over that bloody shark you always squeeze against your body.

Simon secures the curtain so the room won’t be too bright after the sun fully rises, and lies back on the bed.

Your limbs immediately twine around him when you sense his figure is nearby, and scoots closer to him.

Jogging is important to keep him from getting loose... it’s a must for him to be strict with his morning routine...

The voices in his mind are gradually replaced by the little snores of yours as he drifts back to sleep.

[12:00]

“Can we eat fries for lunch?”

you yell at Simon who’s preparing lunch in the kitchen.

“No”

“WHYYYY!”

“UNHEALTHY!” He shouts back so his voice won’t get covered by the noise of the range hood.

okay then... you feel a bit disappointed, but you can’t come up with a convincing reason, so you just back to sweeping the floor.

just as you’re cleaning the last few spots, a scrumptious smell catches your attention, it’s not those chicken breast or salad or scrambled eggs that Simon deems healthier.

“Do you make fries?!” You knock open the kitchen door with excitement.

What you see is Simon sprinkling some salt and pepper on a bowl of fries, and he turns to you when you rush in like an energetic child.

“A few fries are tolerable” He shows you the bowl, and you can’t wait to reach out and take a bite on the crunchy and golden fries.

“Thank you, baby.” You press an open mouth kiss on your lover’s cheek.

“Don’t kiss me with your greasy mouth...”He growls, but you’re already leaving the kitchen, lilting an off-key song with the bowl of fries in your arms.

Simon just shakes his head and starts cleaning the countertop. If some fries can make you this happy, then fuck those healthy diets.

[18:00]

You two sitting face to face on the couch, the air is full of tension when you speak first.

“Mushroom”

“Mango”

“Oreo”

“Orange”

“Egg”

“g...”

“It’s over 2 seconds! Go take out the garbage, silly!”

“Fucking hell...”

Snickering at Simon’s loss, as he grumbles and on his way to grab the garbage, you add another star under your name to ‘the winner of the week’ sticky note that’s pasting on the fridge.

[23:00]

“Time to sleep.”

“but I want to watch this movie.”

“You can watch it tomorrow.”

“pleassee I want to watch it nowww Simonnn”

“...Fine.”

(00:00)

Simon looking at you sleeping like a log, whole body leaning on him and tangling him like an octopus, totally ignoring the wretched screaming from the movie, sighs and turns off the TV.

He leaves a night lamp for you, in case you need to get up for water during the night, and adjusts you two into a more comfortable posture.

He hears you mumbling something like donuts or maybe your favorite character, and chuckles quietly at how silly you are.

He already knew you would fall asleep during the movie, so that’s why he gave in, and time proves that his prediction’s correct since he’s looking at your serene face now.

“Goodnight.” Satisfied with you resting safe and sound in his arms, Simon plants a kiss on the top of your head and closes his eyes, hoping for a sweet dream that has you in it.

a/n: blåhaj sorry I love u I don't mean to harm u

[justkending]

Pink or Violet? (Part two of "It's just a papercut..." Drabble)

(All gifs are from Pinterest)

(Part two of "It's just a papercut..." Drabble)

Pairing: Grumpy Bucky x Avenger Reader (Enemies to lovers)

Word Count: 2600+

A/N: Well, wow-ee wow, wow... Y'all blew up the last little drabble connected to this one, so I had to grant myself some writing time today to come up with a follow-up drabble. This one is a lot more lighthearted and a good 5-8 months in the future (your choice, really). Thank you, guys, for all the love on the last one, and I hope this one is a nice extension of it ;)

________________

“Have you ever considered going brunette? Whoa!” I sense the knife before I see it and manage to expertly dodge it with a laugh. “Hey, my teammate said I’m not allowed to get stabbed anymore, big guy,” I shun, turning in my spot, kicking the man in the nuts, and as he folds over in pain, I hold his head perfectly to knee him in the face, hearing a satisfying crunch, causing him to land with a thump to my side. “Rude to interrupt conversations, too, dude.” 

Currently, we were in the middle of a stakeout… Or what started as a stakeout and now is a full-on brawl. 

Nat and I were rudely interrupted in our conversation about disguises we wanted to try, when an explosion in the facility we were monitoring took over the west wing. 

“I’ve done a wig,” Nat answers as she jumps, doing one of her classic moves where she’s sat on the shoulders of her assaulter, choking him out with her thighs before flinging her body to where she’s standing again casually and the man is incapacitated passed out on the floor. “Not that I didn’t find it flattering, but it’s harder to dye back with such a dark color.” She shrugs as she moves on to her next victim. 

I bend grabbing the knife from the man I just took down and flip it a few times in my hand. “Makes sense.” I nod with a convinced look. “On your right,” I hum, and she ducks while I throw the knife perfectly to where it lodges itself in the thigh of her attacker. 

A blood-curdling scream sounds at his pain, and I pout at him in fake sympathy as Nat shoots her widow bite as he falls, making him shake in shock before passing out. 

“What about you?” she asks with a breath, brushing her hair out of her face. “Ever considered a neon green?” 

“What? No. Am I trying to get caught in this undercover scenario?” I reload my gun before holstering it, and we start jogging to our next spot. 

“I just think it’d be fun to venture away from the neutral tones for once. Maybe there would be a mission where you did need to be found and-” Nat’s cut off by coms in our ears. 

“Ladies, enough salon talk,” Tony’s voice comes through. “We have a situation in the northeast corridor with much more pressing matters happening!” 

“We’re coming!” Nat groaned. “God. Micromanager is in full force today.” 

“Besides, Y/N’s skin complexion wouldn’t work with a neon green. Maybe a pink, though…” Tony continues before his comms cut out, and he’s back to shooting things from the sky.

“Oh, pink would be really good with your skin tone,” Nat seconds as we turn a corner. 

“No one is dying their hair pink! I could use some backup!” Bucky’s shouts come from the comms next.

“Where’s Steve?” Nat asks, pausing at a fork in the halls before signaling me to follow. 

“Caught up at the moment,” Steve’s grunts came through my earpiece. 

“Almost there, Barnes!” I note as we come to the hall where he’s supposedly located. “And I’ll have you know, if I want to dye my hair pink, I’ll damn well dye my hair pink!” 

“Guns, Y/N,” Bucky groans. “I have guns going off around me and at me. I’m not worried about a fake scenario right now. I’m worried about a very real one that’s-” He’s cut off and grunts a few times. “Please just-” 

The two men he was up against fall slack to the ground, and he’s left panting with relief as he turns back to me, standing at the end of the hall with my gun lowering down to my side. 

“Please, what? I like it when you use your manners,” I smirk as I walk up proudly to him. 

“You need to be humbled a touch,” he notes, shaking his head as he checks his weapons and reloads them while I walk to stand by him. 

I roll my eyes before assessing our surroundings as he gears up. “You’re just jealous because the girls have more fun with undercover makeovers. You want a pink wig too?” I tease, poking his shoulder. 

He playfully shoves my own and makes me teeter some as I laugh. 

“I got the information!” Steve’s shout come back through. “We can wrap this up.” 

“Thank God,” I groan, adjusting my holster on my hip. “I have dinner plans.” 

“Sorry to interrupt your nightly, never-changing program,” Tony snarks. 

“It’s ok. You can compensate by paying for my meal,” I retort back, pushing the button in my ear to keep it in place. “Speaking of compensation…” 

“Y/N, I swear if you say you stole my credit card information again,” Tony groans. 

“What, me? No… I would nev-” 

“Shut it. I don’t even have the energy to fight you.” 

I turn to Bucky and wink, and he’s biting back a laugh with a wide smile. 

“You’re a mess, you know that?” he says lowly, the comms not picking up on us. 

“You like it,” I shrug and start moving down the corridor, where Nat’s waving us on to follow. 

“That I do,” he hums, following behind me and playfully kicking my ass with the tip of his boot. “Now, these dinner plans…” 

“Interested?” 

“More than you know…” 

____________________

Back at the compound, freshly out of the shower, I hear a knock on my door. “Just got out of the shower, but the doors unlocked!” I shout. 

“Dinner’s arrived!” Bucky shouts, shutting the door behind him carefully. 

“Thank God. I’m starving,” I grumble, throwing my sweatshirt over my head after getting dressed. “I’ll send Tony a thank you card later for covering tonight's meal,” I hum, drying my hair with a towel as I come into the room. 

The greased takeout bag smells fresh of hole-in-the-wall dinner food, making my mouth water. I grin as Bucky places it on the coffee table in front of my couch and starts arranging the containers for us to splurge. 

“No, you won’t,” Bucky responds to my thank you card comment. 

“No, I won’t,” I agree, jumping over the back of the couch and bouncing into the seat next to him. “Hmm, you smell nice.” I’ve come to learn, and so has Bucky, that his body wash might as well be my kryptonite. 

“I can say the same for-,” he bumps me with his elbow before his eyes narrow on my exposed shoulder, and without a second thought, he grabs my arms and moves my body to face him. “What’s that?” 

“What’s what?” I ask, looking down at the spot he’s glaring at as best as I can. 

“You got a cut,” he points out, hovering his fingers around the area and moving my sweatshirt out of the way. 

Damn, I knew I shouldn’t have cut the neckline to half my sweatshirt after that stupid TikTok trend I saw the kids doing… Or at least worn one that wasn’t butchered tonight.

“Buck, it’s literally a scratch. And I’m genuinely not downplaying it at all,” I note, grabbing his wrist and trying to move his hands away, but they have an iron grip on me. 

Or should I say, vibranium grip on me?! Haha! Get it?.. No? Ok, moving on…

But seriously. The cut was just that. A cut. It wasn’t anything like the night we talked things out months and months ago. That one had become slightly scarred, whereas this one will be scabed over in the morning and likely be gone in 2-3 days. I might as well have gotten into it with a cat who was pissed when he figured out he’d been put on a diet. 

“A cut’s a cut,” Bucky argues, looking up at me. “Did you clean it?” 

“Yes, I cleaned it in the shower with the rest of my body. I disinfected it, and it has that balm on it. And before you ask,” I say just as he opens his mouth. “Yes, it’s that special salve you had Banner make for me. I’m set.” 

Bucky had become a little more intense when it came to my injuries since about three missions ago, I had moved at the perfect time to redirect a knife headed right at him, but it sliced my wrist in the redirection, and much to my misfortune, it was laced with something. 

To add to the list of medications he’s had Banner concoct specifically for my clumsy self (which were in the double digits at this point), I now have a poison control cream that counteracts most toxins and keeps me from saying hello to Heaven sooner than I hope. 

“You don’t feel weird or anything?” His eyes are scanning mine and my face for any lies or other injuries I haven’t told him about, and I’ve come to learn if it makes him feel better to double-check up to 20x before being satisfied, I’ll allow it. 

“I’m right as rain,” I nod, smiling at him softly, squeezing my grip on his wrist in reassurance. “The only thing I’m feeling is hungry and tired. So, what movie are we watching that I’ll inevitably fall asleep on you during?” 

He hesitates for a moment and then nods, dropping his hands and going back to the food. 

“I was thinking Tombstone,” he answers, grabbing one of the to-go containers with fries and a burger and handing it to me. 

“Another Western? What’s got you on the cowboy kick?” I ask, taking it and popping it open, instantly attacked by the smell of freshly seasoned fries. 

“You keep nicknaming me cowboy, so I figured I should have a little background knowledge of the profession,” he winks at me over his shoulders as he gets his own food together. 

“Oh, yeah? You like the nickname?” I ask, nudging him with my knee. 

“When it comes from you? Yeah. Sam? No. Without hesitation, I will start adding laxatives to his protein shakes if he keeps it up.” 

I laugh at their friendship, and we start up the movie, diving into our much-deserved greasy meal. 

_____________

The next day, Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Wanda are lounging on the living room couch, all doing their own thing. Wanda and Sam are watching Sex in the City. Steve was reading a book called The Secret War of Laos, and Bucky was on his computer, fully engrossed in whatever was on the screen.

Nat clears her throat, and I stand next to her in a baseball cap with my hair completely hidden underneath. Everyone looks up, and instantly, Bucky’s eyes fall on me. He smiles for a split second before it drops, and he furrows his eyebrows at my appearance. 

“We have an announcement,” Nat smiles mischievously. 

“Oh God…” Bucky rubs his temples and looks down in his lap in seconds. 

“You don’t even know what we’re going to say,” I argue, not able to hold back my laugh. 

“I can use context clues,” he grumbles before looking up, his eyes squinted as if he had a bad headache forming, and it was already making his eyesight worse. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Nat waves him off as Sam and Wanda chuckle, and Steve looks oblivious to what is happening. “Anyway. Y/N and I made a bet and, well… Y/N lost.” 

“Surprisingly, not mad about it,” I shrug, arms crossed over my chest.

“Of course, you’re not…” Bucky mumbles, shutting his computer and putting it to the side.

“What did I miss exactly? Because everyone seems to know what’s happening…” Steve asks, confused, taking in everyone’s reactions. 

“Come on. Let’s see it.” The brunette interlaces his hands and rests them in his lap as he watches me. 

I smile at Nat, who’s also grinning wide, and move to take the ballcap off.

“Awesome,” Sam is the first to say something, and Wanda claps and gushes. 

“Oh wow, that’s so cute!” She smiles widely. 

“Whoa. That’s…” Steve turns his head to the side.

“Pink,” Bucky finishes for him. His eyebrows raise in what looks like surprise as he takes in my new hair. 

“Do you like it?” Nat asks the group, and there’s a mix of reactions as they talk over each other. 

I laugh with them for a little before walking over to Bucky’s side of the couch. Plopping down next to him, the crew talks about their own personal transformations they’d like to do and quickly forget about us in the corner. 

“Thoughts?” I ask, smirking up at Bucky as I sit almost wholly tucked into his side. His arm comes around my shoulders, resting there as he looks at me from the side. 

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” he chuckles once, taking it in up close now. 

“Eh, I thought a change-up would be fun. Change. Is. Good,” I shrug, poking his chest with each word. 

He moves to touch my hair, and as soon as his fingers touch it, his face contorts into an investigative look. 

“What?” I ask, biting my lip as he’s already catching on to my ploy. 

“This isn’t,” he rubs a strand of hair between his fingers, studying the texture. The crease in between his eyebrows drops instantly, and he deadpans to me. “It’s a wi-” 

“Shhh!” I hush him, almost jumping in his lap as I cover my hand over his lips. He freezes, eyes wide, and his hand instinctively goes to my waist to balance me. “Let me live this fantasy a little longer,” I smile, holding back a giggle. 

“This is a fantasy of yours?” He asked behind my hands, words muffled and raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe fantasy isn’t the right word-” 

“Because it’s starting to turn into one for me,” he cuts in, and I can feel his smirk in the palm of my hand. 

I slowly drop it, astonished at his confession. “I’m sorry. Did I hear that right?” I ask, peering at our friends who are now arguing with Sam about growing a mohawk, which he is all for, apparently. 

Instead of answering, he licks his lips as he brings his hands to the wig and plays with strands of it.

“Maybe not the pink, but… How’d you feel about a violet?” he asked, eyes slowly rising to mine. 

“Oh. My. God…” I say lowly, sinking back in my seat, pressed to his side. “Did we just discover a new kink of yours?” 

“I fear we may have…” His voice was low and made a shiver go down my back. 

“I hold no fear at all,” I smirked back at him, looking him up and down. “All I feel about that statement is excitement…” 

“Where exactly did you get this? Because it looks pretty realistic…” His fingers still play with the wig, which, thanks to Nat, is a higher-end one. How he caught on to it being a wig is impressive. 

“Doesn’t matter,” I shrug. “What matters is I happen to know they carry all the colors…” I smirk. 

“Interesting.” 

“Interesting, indeed.” 

He starts to stand up, and I’m confused by the action until he turns and offers me a hand. Once I’m standing, he leans closer and down to whisper in my ear, my hand still in his.

“We can keep this one for now. I have a few ideas still.” 

I look up at him, pleasant surprise on my face. “You know how I said change is good?” He nods with a smirk, his hand squeezing mine in response. “This,” I motion between us. “This is a change I’m glad happened.” 

“Same here,” he winked, pulling my arm so I was flush against him, and he wrapped an arm around my shoulder, escorting me out of the room.

“Where are they going?” Nat asks, confused at our sudden leave. 

Everyone turns to see the tail end of us leaving, and Wanda laughs after a second and quickly covers her mouth. “God, pray for her,” she says under her breath, and Nat gives her a look. She tries to play it off by coughing and shaking her head. “Sorry, something in my throat.”

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @death-unbecomes-you @mythos-writes​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​  @srrymydood​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @xa-dia​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @redhairedfeistynerd​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @morganclaire4​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @connie326​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @captain-asguard​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @mollygetssherlockcoffee​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @livstilinski @basicallylool​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @starryeyeseunbyul​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

My Lovelies Forever:

@natura1phenomenon​ @lauravicente​ @kakakatey​ @traceyaudette​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @sandlee44​ @thorne93​ @thefaithfulwriter1​ @essie1876​ @greyeyedsmile14​ @capsiclehan​  @xostephanie​ @averyrogers83​ @awesomenursingstudent​ @gh0stgurl​ @cs-please​ @jjlevin​ @rainbowkisses31​ @deannotmoose​ @their-bibliophile​ @kitkatd7​ @willowbleedsonpaper​ @mariaenchanted​ @snffbeebee​ @couldabeenamermaid​ @rebekahdawkins​​ @alyispunk​​ @billyseye @hallecarey1​​

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker​ @charmedbysarge​ @jbarness​ @bellamy-barnes​ @katiaw2​ @aikeia​ @stopjustlovethemcu​ @enchantedbarnes

[rafecameronssl4t]

Eyes on The Field || nfl player!Rafe Cameron x dcc!reader

Summary: Just Rafe not being able to keep his eyes off of you during the entire game.

Warnings: noneee

Word count: 1,194

A/n: its been waaayyy too long since I've written a dcc!reader fic

MASTERLIST (nfl!rafe x dcc!reader au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

Thunderstruck reverberated through every corner of AT&T Stadium, the iconic riff sending a jolt of energy that seemed to pulse in sync with the heartbeat of the crowd. The stadium was alive but it was you and the rest of the DCC who commanded the attention of every eye in the stands. You all moved across the field with a confidence that could only come from countless hours of practice.

The energy was palpable, the air thick with anticipation as you fell into formation, perfectly poised in your pristine blue and white uniform. A practiced smile curved your lips, every muscle in your body was tuned in. The routine was etched into your memory, each move precise, every step instinctive.

You’d performed this dance over a dozen times, and yet the adrenaline coursing through your veins made it feel brand new. The sound of the music thumped in your chest, and the cheers from the crowd seemed to amplify every movement you made.

And I was shakin' at the knees. Could I come again please?

On the sideline, Rafe jogged onto the field with his teammates, his helmet tucked under one arm. Amid the chaos of the game preparation, his eyes instinctively found you in the centre of the squad, your presence commanding his full attention. “Eyes off the cheerleaders, Cameron,” Chris teased, delivering a playful smack to his shoulder.

“Shut up,” Rafe muttered, but the grin tugging at his lips betrayed him. He didn’t even try to deny it. His gaze then moved onto the big screen where you were the focus, captivated by the way you moved with such confidence and poise. As the routine neared its climax, the crowd roared in anticipation.

Then, the iconic jump split. Your body soared effortlessly through the air before landing flawlessly, and the stadium erupted in thunderous applause. As you gathered your pom-poms, you allowed yourself one fleeting moment to catch Rafe’s gaze from across the field. His eyes locked with yours, intense and searching. Still, ever the professional, you maintained your poised demeanor.

With a flick of your hair and a perfectly timed spin, you held your smile, turned, and strode off the field and onto the sidelines with your group as if nothing had happened, leaving Rafe watching after you, captivated as ever.

~

Rafe jogged off the field, his helmet tucked under one arm, sweat glistening on his face. The game was going well—they were up by two touchdowns—but his focus wasn’t entirely on the scoreboard. As he reached the sideline, his eyes instinctively found you again. You had just finished a routine and were taking a quick water break, trying to catch your breath.

When you noticed Rafe staring, you raised an eyebrow, silently questioning him. He didn’t look away. Typical. Shaking your head, you turned back to chat with the others, refusing to feed his ego any more than necessary. A few minutes later, you spotted him again. This time, he was walking over with a group of his teammates toward the water station.

They were laughing and jostling each other, but Rafe veered slightly to the side, positioning himself furthest from the group—right next to where you stood. You didn’t look at him at first, your gaze fixed on the field as you absentmindedly adjusted your uniform. You felt him stop beside you, the air between you charged, his presence impossible to ignore.

"You know, there’s a game happening," you teased without turning to him, keeping your tone light but teasing. You didn’t dare make eye contact, aware of the curious glances from both his teammates and your squad. Rafe didn’t seem to care. “Is there?” he replied smoothly, his tone playful but his gaze piercing as it trailed over you. “Because all I’ve been watching is you.”

You let out a small snort, finally glancing at him, unable to help yourself. His bluntness was infuriating and, admittedly, a little thrilling. “You’re going to get in trouble if Coach sees you over here flirting,” you said, your voice quieter now, but there was a teasing lilt in your words. Rafe smirked, crossing his arms as if the idea amused him.

“Let him. You’ve got me so distracted, I’m surprised I haven’t dropped a pass yet.” You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. Turning your attention back to the field, you checked the clock, noting how little time you had left before the next routine. “Maybe I should stop performing,” you said casually. “Can’t have the star receiver losing focus.”

Rafe chuckled softly, his voice dipping just enough for only you to hear. “Don’t you dare. Best part of game day.” His words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you let yourself look at him. Really look at him. The teasing glint in his eyes, the way his grin softened just for you—it was hard not to feel flustered under his gaze.

But before you could respond, the music started up again, signaling it was time for you to return to the field. You turned away, a small smile playing on your lips as you joined the formation. As the cheerleaders moved into position, you could still feel his eyes on you.

“Focus, Cameron,” you heard one of his teammates shout from a distance. You hid a smirk as you got into formation. If Rafe was distracted, that was his problem. You had a routine to nail, and he’d just have to wait.

[amirasainz]

Can we please have more of little alonso? Like when she was born and nando holding her for the first time and the grid are confused where he is?

Or before the grid official meeting her, nanda showing them pictures of her and telling them about something cute she did.

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💚

The newest dad on the grid

Fernando stepped into the paddock for the first time in weeks, his signature confident strut unchanged, but there was something different about him—an energy, a spark, a glow even. The break he had taken from the Formula 1 season to welcome his daughter had rejuvenated him in ways no victory lap could. The paddock, buzzing with its usual pre-race fervor, quieted as drivers spotted Fernando.

“Nando!” came a shout from Charles, who jogged over with a huge grin. “Welcome back! How’s... the baby?!” His face lit up like a kid waiting to hear about Christmas morning.

Max, never far from Charles, joined with a smirk. “Yeah, Fernando, how’s fatherhood treating you? You look—different. Happier, even.”

Fernando chuckled, patting both of them on the shoulders. “Ah, much better than any race, I can tell you that. Yn, my little girl, she’s perfect.”

George approached next, Lewis in tow. “Alright, alright, hold on,” George said, adjusting his perfectly tailored shirt. “Are we finally going to see pictures of this famous Yn? Because the way everyone’s been talking, she’s already an icon.”

“Wait, don’t start without me!” Lando called, sprinting over, followed by Oscar, Carlos, and Pierre. The group was forming faster than a DRS train on a straight.

Fernando, laughing at the commotion, pulled out his phone. “Okay, okay, calm down. Let me show you.” He unlocked the screen and turned it toward them. The photo he showed was of a tiny baby swaddled in a soft pink blanket, her big brown eyes staring up at the camera with curiosity and innocence.

“OH MY GOD,” Lando exclaimed, practically squealing. “She’s adorable!”

“Look at those cheeks!” Charles leaned in closer, his face nearly pressed against the screen. “She’s like a tiny angel! I bet you can't stop kissing them.”

“She has your eyes,” Lewis said softly, his warm smile matching the tone of his voice.

Fernando puffed out his chest, clearly basking in the praise. “She does, doesn’t she? And she already loves motorsport. When I hold her and talk about racing, she doesn’t cry. She just listens.”

Max snorted. “Fernando, she’s like two weeks old. She probably just likes your voice.”

“She’s already your biggest fan, mate,” Carlos interjected with a proud grin. “Don’t listen to Max.”

Fernando swiped to another photo. This time, Yn was asleep, her tiny fist wrapped around Fernando’s finger. The group collectively let out a chorus of “Awwww!”

“She’s so small!” Pierre said, his voice unusually soft. “Like, her hand is smaller than your finger! How do you even handle her without being terrified?”

“It’s instinct,” Fernando replied with a shrug, though the softness in his voice betrayed his own awe. “The moment I held her for the first time, everything clicked. She’s everything now.”

As Fernando flipped through more pictures—Yn in a tiny onesie with a Formula 1 logo, Yn sleeping on his chest during a nap—the drivers grew more animated.

“Does she have a favorite team yet?” Lando teased, nudging Carlos.

“Obviously Aston Martin,” Carlos quipped. “She knows where her dad is.”

Fernando raised a finger. “Actually, she smiles the most when I hum the Spanish anthem.”

“Of course she does,” George said with a laugh. “Your baby, your rules.”

“Does she cry a lot?” Oscar asked shyly.

“Only when she’s hungry or tired,” Fernando said proudly. “She’s very calm otherwise. I think she’ll grow up to be very composed, like her father.”

“Yeah, sure,” Max muttered under his breath, earning a playful shove from Lewis.

The group continued to coo over the photos, and even the normally reserved drivers couldn’t resist commenting. Esteban smiled as he observed from a distance but eventually joined in, congratulating Fernando.

“You should bring her to a race one day,” Charles suggested.

“Yeah,” Lando added enthusiastically. “Imagine a tiny Alonso in the paddock, stealing everyone’s hearts.”

Fernando grinned. “Maybe one day. But for now, she’s better off at home with her mamá. She needs to be calm, not surrounded by all this chaos.”

As the drivers dispersed, Fernando was left with a lingering feeling of warmth. The camaraderie of the paddock had always been special, but now, as a father, he felt it even more deeply. Yn wasn’t just his world; she had somehow become part of theirs too.

Later, during the drivers' press conference, a journalist asked Fernando how it felt to be back after his short break.

“It feels amazing,” he said, his smile unshakeable. “But not as amazing as being a father. Yn is my inspiration now. Every lap, every corner—I’m racing for her.”

The other drivers in the room exchanged knowing smiles. Fernando Alonso, the fierce competitor, had softened in the best possible way. Fatherhood suited him, and they were all here for it.

[inkdrinkerworld]

Inn Love

cw: friends to lovers, cowboy!james, innkeeper!reader, pet names, fluff, scene setting really

wc: 2.6k

“Please Jamie? I just need a couple pounds of butter.” You bat your eyes at him, all sweet and innocent but James knows you.

“If I give you what I have left I won’t have any to sell in the market this weekend.” He’s trying to stand firm. He really really is.

For all your sweetness and innocence, you’re like a viper to James’ strength of will.

“I’ll pay you more than the market.” You’ll definitely try, but James can never charge you full price.

“I’m sorry, darling. Go to Malloy, he sells butter too.”

You wrinkle your nose. “No one sells butter that’s as good as yours, Jamie.” You’re trying as hard as you can, James seems unmoved. So you up the ante. “I’ll bring you one of the pound cakes on top of payment.”

James falters a bit then. You bake the best in the entire town. At your inn, The Secret Garden, that’s one of the best reviews after the impeccable mattresses. You also know James has the softest, sweetest spot for pound cake- especially the blood orange pound cake you make.

He groans and you squeal, your boots clicking on the cobble. James gestures for you to come into his house.

“You’re so fucking evil.” he mumbles, reaching into his second fridge and handing you three pounds of butter. You take a quick peek and find his fridge stocked with pre packaged butter wrapped pretty in parchment, cheese in there too. There’s even milk. James is the best damn dairy farmer this town has ever seen and it’s a wonder how he ever has enough butter.

“You are an angel, James Potter.” you wrap your arms around his neck, and James’ hands automatically wrap around your back.

He’s big and warm, smells like leather and blood oranges and for all his muscles James is surprisingly soft.

James can’t fight the smile on his lips when you let go of him. You really are sweet. “You’re lucky I made more butter today.”

You gasp, not at all surprised. “You playing hard ball with me, Jamie?”

He nods, setting his hat on the counter. “Maybe I wanted a pound cake for free.” he teases but James would never take anything from you without paying you no matter how much you try to get him to. He doesn’t really care that you’re friends, he’s paying you for everything.

“You’re losing angel status, Potter. I gotta go, gotta bake for breakfast tomorrow and for the market this weekend.”

“See ya’, darling.”

James spots you while you’re closing up your booth at the market and hands off the empty crates he was hauling to his friends, Sirius and Remus.

He jogs over to you, and places his hands on your shoulders. You startle and almost swing a punch at him but he catches your fist.

“Okay Rocky,” he chuckles when you put your hand to your chest, breathing heavily like you’d just run a mile.

“You scared me, James! How don’t you make noise when you walk?”

James rolls his eyes, taking your crates from you. You move to packing bags.

“I make lots of noise, you’re just in your head.” He says, you shrug with a smile.

“Did they buy all of your butter?” you ask as you start walking towards your truck, James close behind.

“And the milk and the cheese.” You roll your eyes at his cocky tone.

You know James better than most here. You went to school together, you used to ranch with him when you were younger and when his mom and dad still owned the ranch.

Then you’d both had to grow up, you going to business school and James having to take over the ranch after his mom and dad had gotten sick.

You’d come back for the funeral and been there when James couldn’t get out of bed to deal with the ranch and all the shit that came with that and stayed till he got better and could do it himself.

Then James helped you with the construction of The Secret Garden, your inn that became your baby.

All this to say is, you know James Potter and he’s not as cocky as he pretends to be.

Sure he’s any woman’s dream. With his inky curls always peeking out under his hat, his muscle tees that show off tan, muscled arms, his pretty brown eyes that remind you so much of browned butter and his fucking dimples.

But James is a sweetheart.

“I told you about that tone, Jamie. Makes you sound too sure of yourself.”

James only chuckles, placing the crates in your tray and the rest of your stuff.

“I’m sorry weren’t you telling me the other day that my butter’s the best?”

You wave him off, laughing as you open the back door.

“Do I give you your loaf now or at family dinner tonight?”

James smiles, this is the one routine you and James still have from when you were kids. You go over on Sunday night for family dinner and then you go to the inn and try to get to sleep before your three am alarm.

“I just spent all day in the hot sun and you’re gonna deprive me? You’re cruel, darling.”

You laugh, handing him the loaf and then reaching in your cooler for a bottle of water. “Here Jamie.”

James’ mouth is already stained pink with the icing from your cake. Crumbs clinging to his shirt and chin.

“James! Have some dignity.” your words are broken up with your laugh, James smiles when you hand him the open water bottle.

“Thanks, darling.” Half the loaf cake is gone, and James guzzles the water like he’s been dying of thirst the whole day.

You watch James drink, aware that you’ve been staring a little longer than necessary and James knows it too because he winks at you.

“What are we having for dinner, James?”

James smiles, “Beef, you wanted that last time when we had chicken.”

You smile, giddy as ever. If it’s one thing James can do is roast beef; it’s always tender and perfect.

“Do you need me to come over early and do the potatoes? With the rosemary and thyme?” James nods, breaking off another little bite of the cake.

“Meet me there in an hour? I know you gotta do dinner at the inn.”

You shake your head, “I got Mary doing dinner tonight, and I wanna check on Snowglobe.”

James’ hand falls over his heart, a look of mock offense on his face. “Do you not believe me when I tell you he’s okay?”

You roll your eyes, “Can’t I want to take my best boy for a little leg stretch?”

James grumbles, “Best boy? Snowglobe took two years to train when we were kids.”

You smile as you remember all the days you’d sleep in James’ room complaining about how Snowglobe hated you and would never warm up to you.

“And now he’s the best horse a girl could have.You’re just jealous Jamie.”

He says nothing, just takes his loaf cake and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll follow behind you. Try not to drive like you’re on a race track, yeah?” You nod, getting into your truck and letting James close the door for you.

You don’t listen to James’ words and speed towards his ranch, foot to the pedal even as you swing into the grocery for chocolate for dessert- lest you and James pass away without a sweet treat after dinner.

At his place, in the Big House, you and James work side by side prepping dinner. He seasons the beef, you season the potatoes and put them to roast and then start on a chocolate cake.

It’s not a fancy one, but it’s occasion enough for a chocolate cake.

“How long till everything is finished?” Sirius asks, hat on his chest as he walks in holding a six pack.

“About an hour.” You and James say at the same time. Remus rolls his eyes as he steps in behind his boyfriend.

“I got your fruit, you didn’t stop by.” He holds out three bowls of cut fruit and you smile.

“Thanks Rem, I swear everyone came for bread today! I sold out of it so fast I really contemplated going back to the inn and baking more.”

The boys hum, smiling when James opens a beer and slides it to you. You take it with a nod and a smile. Quickly, you uncover the bowl of watermelon, taking a few pieces and smiling at the sweetness.

“It’s cos it’s fucking amazing bread. Lasts the whole fucking week too.” A compliment from Sirius is always genuine- as long as you’d known him, about two years, you can count on one hand how many sweet words the man says.

Conversation lulls, James talks about his plans for the week, Sirius talks about how there’s too many people trying to build big condos in your town- he’s in real estate and Remus talks of how much simpler life had gotten since he’d started raising chickens again.

You shoot out of your seat, James watches you curiously. You pull the cake from the oven and turn to all three of them stern as can be, “Those potatoes have ten minutes. I’m going to see my horse, do not let them burn.”

You rush out of the Big House without another word, boots clicking against the wooden floors and then crunching on the gravel path as you make your way to the stables.

“Snowglobe, baby.” You call, passing each stall till you find your baby’s.

Snowglobe is an old boy, almost twenty four, but he’s always been perfect. He’s all white, a pretty shiny sort of white on his coat that makes him look like fresh fallen snow. Hence his name.

He raises his head as he sees you, tail flicking as you reach a hand into his stall.

“I missed you, old boy.” You kiss his nose, stepping into the stall and getting a brush. You’re sure the farm hands James hired keep him well groomed, but he likes a bit of pampering and he deserves it too.

You brush through his mane, talking to him and sneaking a couple apples to him.

There’s a knock on the stable doors and you startle, you hear James’ deep chuckle before you see him. “Dinner’s ready,”

You kiss Snowglobe on his nose again. “I’ll come by tomorrow and we’ll go riding, baby.”

James rolls his eyes when Snowglobe puts his face on your shoulder, stopping you from moving.

You grin wide, “I promise, old boy. We’ll go riding all evening.”

Snowglobe seems pleased because he lifts his head and lets you go.

“He’s as clingy as you are,” James says as you walk out beside him.

“He’s not clingy! He’s the best and I don’t come see him nearly enough.”

James scoffs, “The four times a week you ride him up and down the ranch isn’t enough?” He bumps your hips with his.

You shrug your shoulders with a smile, “He likes the exercise and your boys still saddle him. He doesn’t like it.”

James is well aware, Snowglobe tosses saddles off him if he’s feeling particularly annoyed with the weight of them some days.

James pushes open the door to the Big House. You walk past him, taking your seat on the table and groaning.

“This is gonna be fucking great.” Sirius laughs at your swear, and loads up your plate- roast potatoes, roast beef and salad.

By the time you’re all finished dinner, you and James have had two slices of cake each and you’re both sprawled on his sofa.

Remus is laying on Sirius with his hat on his stomach and Sirius’ is pulled low on his face.

“I gotta get going,” you say, breaking the silence. Your words are groggy, sleep close in your reaches the longer you lay beside James.

James sits up, “What time is your alarm?”

“Three thirty.”

James tries pulling you down beside him, but you don’t budge. “I’ll drop you back in the morning.”

You huff, a little amused. “What time do you usually wake up, James?”

“Four. I gotta check the fences though, so three thirty ain’t bad.”

There’s no use arguing with him, and you don’t really want to. He stretches out on the sofa,

Sirius and Remus are out cold, James doesn’t even move them. He just throws a blanket over them.

“C’mon, the guest room is always ready for you.” James sounds just as tired as you feel, his eyes look a little glassy too.

“Thanks Jamie,” you push open the door and smell the lavender spray you use at night strong as if you’d just sprayed it.

“Course darling, your blanket’s there too. Come get me when your alarm goes off, yeah?” James kisses your forehead, you smile.

“Yeah Jamie. Go get some sleep.”

You climb under your blankets, grinning when you smell the linen detergent James uses. Sleep comes quick, your eyes heavier than they’ve been all day now that you’re laying down.

-

Someone is shaking your shoulder and you don’t like it.

“Stop,” you groan, pushing the hand off you and pulling your blanket over your head.

“Darling it’s nearly three thirty. Come get some coffee.”

You groan, twisting in protest under the covers. “No. I’ll be down at three thirty.”

James rolls his eyes. “Don’t make me use advanced waking up tactics.”

Your head pops out of the covers, hair a little messed up. “You are not tugging this cover off me James. I swear to god.”

James smiles, “You’re so pleasant in the morning. C’mon, we’ll have coffee and one of those breakfast sandwiches and I’ll drop you off.”

The grumble you let out makes James laugh some more.

“Give me five minutes.” James nods, leaving the room and letting you go about your morning routine.

You find James pulling two sandwiches from his oven, setting yours on a plate and biting into his immediately.

“Thanks Jamie, where’s my coffee?”

James tilts his head to the pot, your favourite cup sitting right beside it.

“Your creamer’s in the fridge.”

You frown, “Where did you get sugar free creme brûlée creamer in the middle of summer?”

James shrugs, “Not telling. But it’s there.” James takes a sip of his own coffee, black with just a touch of sugar. “It’s turkey in the sandwich too.”

You smile, fixing your cup and then shuffling towards James to kiss his cheek.

“You’re cute, thank you Jamie.”

His cheeks redden without meaning too. “Eat so we can go darling. You got scones to bake and what is it today? Eggs and bacon with toasted sourdough?”

You nod, biting into your sandwich. “Yeah and I gotta do cookies today, want me to bring any over?”

James frowns, “Today?” You nod, taking the last bite of your sandwich and finishing off your coffee.

“Taking Snowglobe out after I finish up dinner at the inn.”

James rolls his eyes playfully. Since the moment Snowglobe stopped fighting you, the pair of you had been inseparable. “Yeah, you can bring a couple. Make sure and eat lunch.”

“Left overs?” Your eyes are wide and hopeful as you look at James. He feels his chest constrict a little.

He opens the fridge and pulls out a bowl, “Got everything here for you.”

“Angel status has been restored Jamie,” James grins, dimples poking out. Truly, he’d never been worried, you’re never actually upset with him ever. Angel status is always applied, but he can’t deny the way it makes him feel when you tell him that it is.

“You’re so gracious!” James bows, making you giggle and slap his shoulder. “Ready?” He asks as he rights himself. James opens the fridge again, pulling out the bowls of fruit Remus had brought over and setting them on your lunch.

“Ready, Jamie.”

[sungbeam]

𝐢 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐢 𝐝𝐨!

nonidol!jung wooyoung x f!reader

the one where you're stuck in denial and wooyoung's determined to not be stuck in the friend zone.

7.7k words, fluff, f2l, they've kinda got a banter thing going on, he's in a frat cuz i said so, college au, swearing, kissing, mentions of alcohol and food, pining, obliviousness, jealousy/insecurity if you squint...? (sorry mark), barely proofread, overall pretty wholesome

a/n: okay... wooyo brainrot going hard lately, but anyways, hope u enjoy <3

The horizon glittered like a sea of molten gold when you stepped onto the sandy shores of the beach. Seagulls squawked overhead, riding the setting sky like your friends currently in the surf. You smiled to yourself, inhaling the briny air and slipping the shades off your nose and up onto your head. Your sandals hung limp in your hand as grains of sand embedded themselves into the soles of your bare feet while you jogged down the hill toward the bonfire and crowd of people.

The last week of summer before the fall semester brought your friends to convince you to come to their last bonfire at the beach. It wasn't difficult to persuade you.

“Oy, Yn! Head's up!"

Your eyes shot open and your head whipped up. Sandals fell from your hand as they came up to grab the frisbee out of the sky. It was plastic and blue, with scratches engraved into its surface from thorough use.

Hoots of approval erupted from further down the bank. "Nice catch!" Yeonjun praised as he jogged to meet you in the middle. A light blue Hawaiian shirt hung loose off his lean frame, unbuttoned to display the glorious, toned muscles of his chest.

You grinned, handing him the frisbee before picking your sandals back up. The two of you walked together back towards the group. "Thanks. How're you, Jun?"

He pulled you into a brief, yet affectionate side hug. "I'm great! You?"

"Same here." You had been itching for an outing—and dreading the first day back to class—so this would be good for you. “Who's here today?”

“Ah, y'know, the usuals.” He grinned at you then, sending you a teasing wink. “Your lover boy's here for sure. He wouldn't miss this for the world.”

Your skin warmed at the playful comment and you were failing to pretend it was just because it was hot out here. You rolled your eyes. “He is not my lover boy.”

“Based on the fact you knew who I was talking about though,” he drawled with a singsong tone. He let out a loud guffaw at your less than gruntled expression. “You know, he ditched his frat's annual pool party to be here.”

“That's his prerogative—I don't know how that relates to me,” you said with your palms raised up helplessly.

As you turned around to walk in front of him, Yeonjun wrinkled his nose with a grin. “It's cute when you're in denial.”

You scoffed, backpedaling in the opposite direction to where Changbin was hollering for him to hurry up with the frisbee. “Denial, as if.”

“Whatever you say, Cher,” he snickered, then raised his hand up in goodbye to jog across the sands to the game of frisbee.

You huffed a laugh and shook your head. The sun glared in your eyes as you trudged through the sand toward the sounds of your other friends hollering at you from the barbeque and speaker system set up. You flicked your shades back over your eyes, an easy smile coming to your face. “Hi everyone! Smells delicious over here.”

Chan was stationed at the small, portable barbeque with a bottle of beer in his hand. He smiled as you neared, digging his hand into the cooler beside him to pass you a fresh bottle of hard lemonade. “You're right on time, Yn. Dinner is almost ready.”

“I do believe I have impeccable timing,” you mused, thanking him while accepting the bottle. You dropped your sandals to the sand by your feet so you could free your hands and twist the bottle cap off.

“So glad you could make it, Yn!” Lia chimed in from her spot beneath the beach tent. She and Chaeryeong were lying on their stomachs with books splayed out before them for a light beach read.

“Hey guys! Glad I could make it, too—”

“Oh my god, is that Yn Ln?”

Your head whipped around in the direction of the new voice, and you watched as Felix trudged up the sandy bank with his surfboard under his arm, his free hand brushing back his strands of damp hair.

“Felix Lee, you've been chickening out on me all summer.”

He gave a lazy smile back at you as the two of you clasped hands in greeting, his being cold and wet from the waves and yours dry and gritty with sand. “You say that like you haven't been working all summer. Anyways, there's someone who's been dying to see you even more than me.”

You could spot the impish mischief in the blond's eyes from a mile away. “I feel like everyone's been telling me the same thing, but I haven't seen Wooyoung anywhere.”

“First time she says my name, and it's not even to my face,” came a dramatic sigh from somewhere behind you.

The organ in your chest kicked into action and you turned to face the newcomer bounding toward the group from up the hill where the parking lot was. He was clad in a pair of board shorts and a tank top, his skin glowing in the golden afternoon light. “Speak of the Devil,” you jested, poking your tongue into your cheek as you smiled.

Jung Wooyoung peered at you from over the rim of his sunglasses as they slipped down the slope of his nose, then pushed them up to nestle in his locks of dark brown hair. “That nickname's a new one.”

“It's an expression, Jung,” you said, eyebrow arched.

He gave yet another melodramatic sigh. “And she's back to the last name-calling. Would it kill you to try a 'sweetheart’ or a 'darling’ one of these days?”

“I think Yn would rather go into cardiac arrest before calling you by your first name, mate,” Felix gave a warm laugh as he sidled up beside his friend, propping his arm up onto Wooyoung's shoulder.

You lifted your bottle of lemonade in salute. “Lix, you are not wrong. Where've you been anyways, Jung?”

“Did you hear that? She cares about my whereabouts,” he gasped in giddy delight, palm over his mouth as if he and Felix were co conspirators. “I'll have you know, Ln, that Hyunjin and I were scouting for ice cream carts, but he had a phone call to take so I came back here.”

You gave a pleasant hum, knocking back a sip of the spiked lemonade. “An ice cream cart? A man after my own heart.”

“Took you that long to notice?”

You weren't given much time to ponder on that statement before everyone's attention turned to Chan, who announced that it was finally time to eat. By some miraculous force of nature, Hyunjin heard Chan's call, too, and came barreling down the hill toward base camp a few moments later. The frisbee was laid to rest, the books were marked for later, and the bonfire was set ablaze.

With delicious eats and favored company, the lot of you gathered around with one another to have dinner and watch the sun slowly sink into the horizon line. It was the perfect cap to a long and warm summer.

A few hours later, when the sun had only just disappeared from view to leave the sky a lingering shade of hazy orange, you settled beside Lia, Chaeryeong, and Yeonjun on one side of the fire pit while Chan sat on his stool with a ukulele he kept in his backseat. (You were pretty sure that ukulele lived in his backseat at this rate. Once, you saw him buckle the thing with its own seatbelt. To each their own, you supposed.)

“So Wooyoung-ah,” drawled Changbin from his perch beside Hyunjin, as the two of them plucked chips out of the same bag, “did Hongjoong say if movie night was confirmed for next Friday?”

All eyes flickered over to Wooyoung expectantly, and you found yourself meeting his gaze as his own flitted from your eyes and back to Changbin. “I’m pretty sure we're still on for Friday, yeah. All of you better be there,” he said pointedly, his finger drawing over the group.

“What time is it again?” Yeonjun asked as he shoved a marshmallow into his cheek. You smiled to yourself and poked at it, making him send an adorable scowl your way.

Wooyoung pursed his lips. “Ah… it should start around nine o'clock. But make sure you guys text me first so I can let you in. Sometimes the pledges don't care to ask before collecting fees at the door.”

Nods and murmurs of agreement resounded from around the group. Each one of you had your own experience with getting hassled for entry fee at the ATZ fraternity door before Wooyoung or one of his frat brothers came to collect you. You remembered Felix once joking about having all of your names on a list or something.

“Ln, you're coming, aren't you?” Wooyoung nodded at you from across the bonfire. He leaned his elbows onto his knees, his fine features illuminated by the fires.

Your pulse skipped. “Hm? Oh, uhm, yeah I'm pretty sure.”

A smile curled onto his lips. “Good.”

From beside you, Yeonjun lightly smacked the back of his hand against your shoulder. “Hey, you should totally invite that guy from our Econ class—y’know from last quarter—?”

Your eyebrows creased. “Mark?”

“Who's Mark?” The question Wooyoung posed was innocent, but you couldn't help hyperfixate on the way he tilted his head and pressed his lips together.

And for some reason, you wanted to clear this up. “Mark from Econ,” you said. “He, Jun, and I used to sit with each other during class. I dunno if he'd wanna come with…” You somewhat kept in touch with Mark over the summer, but it wasn't like the two of you hung out solo or anything.

Yeonjun shoved another marshmallow into his mouth, but still spoke through it, “Mawk's cool doe. I fink he iked you.”

“Ooh, someone had a crush on you, Yn?” Hyunjin snickered.

You wrinkled your nose at him. “He did not have a crush on me; he was just nice.”

“You should invite him anyway!” Chaeryeong piped up as she leaned over you and Lia to steal a marshmallow from Yeonjun's bag. The owner of said bag watched the stolen marshmallow get swallowed whole with wide eyes. “More the merrier.”

“As long as Woo lets him in,” Felix muttered into his plastic cup so his words were slightly muffled. You didn't hear what he said, but you saw Wooyoung whack him and induce a Felix-standard fairy giggle.

You reached into Yeonjun's marshmallow bag, pretending he wasn't gawking at you with even wider eyes to guilt you into not taking his precious. “Okay, I will ask, but no promises.”

“Who the fuck is Mark from Econ?”

San barely glanced up from what he was reading and he flipped the page to the tune of Wooyoung's rapid pacing of their shared room. “He's from Econ, I'm guessing.”

Wooyoung stopped in the middle of the open space between their beds, hands braced on their hips. He had just gotten home from the bonfire after having dropped off Hyunjin, Yeonjun, and Changbin at their apartment. When he'd arrived home to the ATZ fraternity on Greek Row, he had not been surprised to find nearly everyone still awake, even at one in the morning.

San, as always, had his nose buried in a bout of nightly reading. He claimed it helped him sleep better, but how could it if he sometimes stayed up until five in the morning because he was so invested?

“That's very helpful, thanks,” Wooyoung deadpanned.

His friend spared him a glance from over the book's edge. Then after one peak at his sorry state, San sighed and stuck an old receipt into the book to mark it for later. “Did they mention a last name? Mark who?”

Wooyoung waved his hand around. “Agh, I dunno. Yeonjun said in the car ride home something about a Mark Lee…”

San blinked, head tilting to the side in thought. “Mark Lee? Like the Mark Lee from NCT down the street?”

For a moment, Wooyoung only stared with furrowed brows, allowing the information presented to process through his brain. When it hit him, it was clear as day. He groaned, dragging his palms down his face as he plopped down on the edge of his bed. “We can't let him into Friday's movie night, Sannie.”

“And why not? He's a nice dude.”

“That is exactly why we can't let him in!” At the way San's face arranged itself into the epitome of confusion, Wooyoung waved his hands around in a manic craze. “If he gets cozy with Yn, my chances are ruined.”

San gave up; he picked up his book again. “Sounds like a skill issue.”

“Movie night? Dark setting? Sharing blankets? Fairy lights overhead?” Wooyoung flopped onto his back and glared at the ceiling. It was the perfect way to get closer to you if he could somehow make it not weird since you were almost always with one of your other friends. This could arguably be his big breakthrough with you; it had all of the makings of a romantic night… as long as everything went right.

He just needed to be absolutely sure that your feelings and his feelings were on the same page.

San sighed, the book flopping onto his lap. “Why can't you just—I don't know—insert yourself?” He made a motion with his arm, his dimples digging into his cheeks as he pressed his lips together in a deadpan, arm jutting straightforward. “Insert. Like… insert.”

Wooyoung craned his head up from his position. “Like—insert?”

“Insert,” San affirmed. “She sits down, and you sit down next to her before anyone else can. Easy.”

“So you want me to be a parasite?”

San scoffed and fixed Wooyoung with a pointed look. “If you're not going to tell her to her face that you like her—”

“Parasitism, it is!”

As the days grew closer to the ATZ frat's annual fall movie night, you had to admit that you might have been severely procrastinating on extending an invitation to Mark. Mark was, by all counts, a nice guy. He was a good guy, in fact. But it wasn't like the two of you were buddy-buddy with each other, as Yeonjun made it sound like to everyone else. It was the equivalent of your mom asking you to invite your neighbor to your birthday party—they were nice enough, but you weren't close enough to ensure this wouldn't be awkward.

Plus, you couldn't get this sticky feeling out of the back of your mind about Yeonjun claiming Mark liked you. There was no problem, per se, with a guy liking you. It was just that… you weren't interested in him like that. You also didn't want other people thinking that you were interested in him either, and getting the wrong idea.

You tried to convince yourself that you weren't interested in anyone at the moment, but you knew, deep in your heart of hearts, that wasn't true. You just didn't want to admit it. (A tragedy, indeed.)

When the first Friday night of the university term rolled around, you and your friends pulled up outside the ATZ frat house without Mark Lee. You'd admitted to them that it was awkward, so the subject was easily brushed away. There was nothing they could do about it now, anyway.

When they strolled up to the entryway, Yeonjun told the pledges at the front that they were with Wooyoung. As per protocol, they forced you all to wait outside until Wooyoung could get there from wherever he was within the house. You could hear the music thumping from the backyard, along with chatter and laughter, all from people waiting for the movie night to start.

You shivered as you hugged your arms around your body, a cool autumn breeze blowing past. “Damn, I should've brought a jacket,” you laughed, hopping around from foot to foot to stay warm. Or maybe you should've worn a sweater rather than a T-shirt over your pajama shorts.

Lia perked up. “Oh! I think I have o—”

Felix's eyes widened as he interjected, “No, you don't!”

Everyone passed Felix a strange look, especially you and Lia. Curiously, you watched as Felix seemingly communicated with Lia in silent, urgent facial expressions before smiling at you like his regular, ray-of-sunshine self.

You blinked. What in the world…?

Lia turned back toward you with an apologetic wince on her face. “I think I took my jacket out of the backseat before I left the house. Sorry, Yn.”

“Oh, that's okay,” you assured her. “I'll, uh, probably steal Chan's blanket or something once we get settled.”

Wooyoung appeared at the door moments later, a lollipop stick between his teeth and a cozy dark blue hoodie on his frame. Like many others here tonight, he was in a pair of pajama pants and fluffy slippers. “Hey guys! Come on in.”

Thankful for the excellent timing, you all slipped inside the front doors of the frat to get to the backyard. The movie night was usually held in the backyard space just because it could hold more people. The movie was then projected against the back of the house with an old projector that was apparently passed down from generation to generation of the frat. There was oftentimes a table to the side that was stocked with snacks and booze for all those attending.

Wooyoung led the group of you out into the backyard, specifically to a spot with a decent view, already laid out with picnic blankets and regular blankets. “Tada!” He exclaimed with jazz hands, catching the amused gaze of others nearby. “I reserved a spot for all of us!”

“Without permission!” Somebody—you recognized Yunho's teasing grin from over by the snack table—yelled.

“Seonghwa hyung said I could!” Wooyoung shot back in proper little sibling fashion. He stuck one of his hands into his pockets and took his lollipop out. “Anyways, help yourselves!”

“This is really cool of you, dude,” Changbin said as he bumped Wooyoung's fist and settled on one corner of the setup.

Chan hobbled over toward Changbin. “Yeah, man. We really appreciate it.”

You murmured your own thanks to Wooyoung as you passed by him to decide on where to sit.

His eyes flickered over your form, noting the way you used your palms to keep your arms warm. “Hey, Ln.”

“Jung,” you mused back.

“You didn't bring a jacket?” He asked incredulously. “It's gonna get colder tonight.”

Sheepishness washed over you and you scratched your head with an embarrassed smile. “I'll be fine under the blankets.”

He shook his head, dissatisfaction clear on his face, as he stuck his lollipop back into his mouth and began shouldering off his jacket.

Your eyes widened when you realized what he was doing. “Hey, wait—I’ll be fine—”

Wooyoung held out the jacket to you, eyebrows lifting in silent communication. 'Put it on.’

You pursed your lips and considered it for a moment. You knew that he was right and it was going to get colder later tonight. You could only bring the blanket up so far… Slowly, you slipped into it with his help, and your upper body was immediately grateful for the warmth.

Wooyoung spun you around to face him again, swiftly reaching for the zipper at the bottom to zip you up.

“Oh, you don't have to—” You shut up with one look from him. You could feel your skin begin to warm, not just because of the residual heat from Wooyoung's body heat on the jacket. You weren't exactly used to this, but you also weren't going to complain. This article of clothing smelled sinfully good—was that his cologne or how he always smelled?

When you were all zipped up, his lips pressed into a content smile. “I'm gonna go grab another jacket. I'll be right back,” he said, throwing a thumb back in the direction of the house.

Based on the fact he was only wearing a tank top underneath the jacket you now wore, you nodded vigorously. “Yeah, of course,” you stammered. “Thanks.”

His smile widened. “No problem, Yn. You look good in it.”

You didn't get another word in because he was darting across the backyard and disappearing inside the house before you could. You were sure you looked as flustered as you felt, and you slowly sank onto the blanket set up beside Chaeryeong and Lia.

From down the line, you could feel your friends’ eyes and wagging brows.

“Don't say anything,” you said to them, pulling your knees to your chest and pretending you weren't in heaven from how nice the jacket felt and smelled. (Oh god, were you being weird about this?)

A snort from Hyunjin.

Felix giggled. “Not a single word.”

By the time Wooyoung returned, Hongjoong was beginning to fire up the movie of choice tonight (Parasite—how fitting) and the backyard had been substantially populated.

Though there was no Mark Lee tonight to be a parasite about, Wooyoung settled on the other side of Chaeryeong who was right beside you. There was a bucket of popcorn per every three or so of you. You dipped into the bucket closest to you, which was the one in front of Chaeryeong.

At some point during the movie, Chaeryeong raised her head from where she was resting against your shoulder and searched the area around you. “Hey,” she whispered to you, “my friend from the Delta sorority is over there and I'm gonna go say hi.”

You nodded. “Sounds good.”

As she clambered to her feet, you met Wooyoung's eyes from her other side. He had tugged his own hood over his head, so only his bangs hung out of it. He nodded toward Chaeryeong in question: ‘Where’s she going?’

“Just a friend,” you answered quietly.

From your other side, you heard Lia make a small gasping sound. “Ooh, I'm gonna say hi, too!”

When both of them had cleared out, you craned your head around to see if you recognized the Delta they went to greet. You did not, and so you stayed put.

It didn't take long for you to realize that you were pretty sure Lia and Chaeryeong were over there for much more than a hello, which was completely fine—you were simply going to hog all of their blanket space—

A throat cleared on your left side, and you watched Wooyoung take the shared popcorn bucket and scoot over into where Chaeryeong was sitting next to you. “So we can reach easier,” he reasoned, shoveling a handful of buttered kernels into his mouth.

You couldn't and didn't argue with that. Though, you were unsure of how fast your heart was beating now that you and he were shoulder to shoulder, leg to leg.

But you turned your attention back to the movie because obviously there was nothing wrong with this. There was absolutely nothing about sitting this close to Wooyoung that was making you flustered—

You jolted when your hand touched his in the popcorn bucket, both of you having blindly reached in.

Your eyes met in the dark again, and you hoped he couldn't see just how affected you were by the touch. “Sorry,” you whispered, withdrawing your hand swiftly.

“No, it's okay,” he murmured back, a small lift in the corner of his lips. “Nothing to be sorry about.”

When the movie reached its inevitable conclusion, it was nearing midnight. Though the projector was turned off, there were plenty of people still lingering to chat and drink. You wiped your hands on a napkin and smeared on a dollop of hand sanitizer that Chan usually kept in his pocket. (The crazy man was always prepared.)

Lia and Chaeryeong eventually came back to the group, but you and Wooyoung scooted over so they could sit next to each other on your right. Your arm was still pressed to his arm, and you still kept his jacket on. It had done a brilliant job at keeping you warm tonight; you were dreading parting with it.

“Can we help you guys clean up or anything?” You asked him as you passed him Chan's bottle of hand sanitizer to use.

He hummed, “Uh, I think we should be okay. We'll probably just end up leaving half of it out to clean up in the morning anyway.”

You nodded, taking the hand sanitizer back from him so you could pass it down the assembly line to Chan.

“Oh, by the way,” Wooyoung piped up. “Whatever happened to that Mark guy you were gonna invite?”

You paused, cupping the back of your neck. “Ah… yeah, I didn't actually invite him,” you admitted. “I just thought it would be awkward 'cause we're not really that close.”

He bobbed his head in understanding. “I see, I see. So what Yeonjun said about him…?”

“Your first mistake was listening to Yeonjun.”

Two people down, you heard a squawk of indignation. “Hey! I heard that!”

A chuckle rang out amongst your group. Changbin and Chan's end of the blanket mass suddenly began standing up, the former of which was propping up a half-conscious Felix, citing needs to get the blond to bed. The rest of you wholeheartedly agreed and joined them, empty popcorn buckets in hand to deposit back at the snack table.

As soon as your bare legs hit the cold night air, you gazed forlornly at the blanket you'd been using before. “Jung, let me give you back your jacket,” you said, catching his attention before he wandered off.

But instead of waiting for you to take off the garment, he placed a hand over yours to stop you from unzipping it. “Keep it,” he said.

“Keep it?” You parroted back dumbly.

He broke into a smile. “Yeah, it'll keep you warm until you get home.”

For a moment, you could only stare. Was he always this pretty? Or was it just the fairy lights that were turned on overhead? You swallowed, your lips curling into a small smile back. “Oh okay—thanks. I'll get it back to you as soon as possible.”

“Whatever you say,” he chuckled and reached over to pat your head. The action made a jolt of warmth run down your spine from your head to your toes. Maybe you were just tired.

Saturday night, you found yourself jostling around in the crowd of all the other late night snackers at the fast food chain a few blocks from the stadium. The first college football game of the season had just ended, and all of your friends who had gone agreed to get a bite to eat afterward. It seemed, however, that nearly everyone else at the game had the same idea.

The establishment was packed to the brim, at least the ordering area was. Your friends had gone outside to score one of the picnic benches for your group, while you, Changbin, and Felix were stuck here to order. (It was all because the three of you sorely lost a game of rock, paper, scissors, and now your wallet would pay, quite literally.) Servers behind the counter hollered out order numbers, and plastic trays of burgers, fries, milkshakes, and grease passed hands.

Your mouth was already watering; cheering and screaming for three hours was a good way to make yourself famished. “Do we have everyone's orders?” You asked your friends, sticking your head in the open space between their shoulders.

Changbin flashed you the group text. “If it's not here, they're starving.”

“Amen to that,” Felix grunted, shaking his bangs out of his eyes and scrolling through his social media fees. “I think Hyunjin and Yeonjun purposely ordered the triple cheeseburger and loaded fries to break our banks.”

“We need to watch that WikiHow video on winning rock, paper, scissors,” you said. The three of you sighed altogether—next time, you wouldn't rely on just luck to get you through something so high stakes.

“You guys look like we just lost the actual game,” mused a familiar voice behind you.

Wooyoung appeared at your side, elbow propped onto your shoulder, accompanied by a couple of his frat brothers, San and Jongho. Wooyoung had a university branded cap over his head with a pair of cherry red heart glasses seated up on the bill, a bit of school spirit in the form of black and red. “I see you lost rock, paper, scissors, Ln.”

You scowled. Of course he knew how you ended up here. After all, he was subjected to it whenever he hung out with your group of friends. “Do you wanna take over my share of the bill, Jung?”

“Do I get something in return?”

“I don't know, your jacket?”

He grinned. “Oh, so you weren't planning on just giving it back to me?”

“I will gladly keep it if you don't want it. She's in the dryer right now,” you shot back. At some point, your heart had kicked up in your chest again, perhaps at the proximity of Wooyoung to you. There wasn't much space in here as it was.

The line scooted up about two centimeters, and Wooyoung's eyebrows shot up in amusement. “You’re washing it after wearing it once? Or maybe you've been wearing it for the past twelve hours and you're just not telling me.”

You ignored the warmth creeping up your neck. “It's called being courteous.”

“It's called wasting water,” he teased, the elbow on your shoulder shifting to an arm slung around both of your shoulders.

“Oh please. It's being washed with the rest of my clothes!” You exclaimed in your defense as you grew more flustered.

Something giddy lit up on his face as the group of you moved up closer to the register. “So that jacket's gonna smell like you? I might not ever wash it again, Ln.”

It was an unholy amount of time later that you, your friends, and the frat trio finally made it out of the stuffy fast food restaurant with your massive order. Instead of a picnic bench, however, it seemed that both your friends and Wooyoung's were exiled to the curb by the street. The sight was rather laughable—around fifteen or so people seated on the firelane like a line of abandoned ducklings.

Everyone practically swarmed the to-go bags that you and your friends deposited in the grass. You picked up one of the cartons of fries for yourself, standing just outside the circle that had formed.

Mingi was recalling one of the plays from tonight's game with vivid acting when you heard your name being called from down the road.

Curious, your eyes tracked the sound, only to see a group of fraternity guys making their way towards you from the direction of Greek Row. Among them, it was Mark Lee that you recognized first in a red bomber jacket and backwards cap. His cheeks were flushed and eyes twinkled like a pair of diamond earrings.

“YN LN! IS THAT YOU?” He giggled, and you just knew that the poor guy was drunk off his face.

One of his friends with a bunny-looking face grappled onto his arm with a groan. “Sorry! He was double-dared to take one too many shots by this bastard,” he said when they neared and cut a glare to one of the tall boys behind him. Said tall boy whistled, pretending not to hear him.

Yunho cupped his hands around his mouth and gave a loud holler. “Aye, N-City! Jungwoo, where the hell have you been, man?"

“It’s called the engineering program, bro,” the one you assumed to be Jungwoo grumbled. He hobbled over to where Yunho was seated in the circle and knocked his fist against the latter's. “Oh my god, can I steal a fry? That line over there looks awful.”

Mingi lifted his tray of fries up for Jungwoo to pluck a few.

Mark, with the supervision of his bunny friend, scuttled over toward you. “Fries sound so good, dude. Like bro. BRO. I am so hungry.” He giggled again as you extended your fries out to him in amusement. “Thanks, Yn. Do I still owe you for coffee that one time?” He slurred, shoving the slices of potato into his mouth.

You chuckled, offering his friend some fries, but was quietly rejected. “Coffee? That was like, once, Mark. Don't worry about it.”

“I know, but like—like, I keep thinking about it, y'know,” he confessed. In the streetlight, you could see his cherry red cheekbones… almost the color of Wooyoung's glas—what. Where did that thought come from?

Absent-mindedly, your eyes flickered across the circle to where you knew Wooyoung was seated with his brothers. To your surprise, you found him already staring your way.

“—it’d be cool to get coffee again sometime, and be friends! I almost took the next econ class in the series 'cause of you.”

“Oh, really?” You asked, forcing yourself back to the people in front of you and being unable to suppress a giggle. You were touched by the sentiment, and frankly, relieved to hear that you and he were pretty much on the same page about being friends. “The next class in the series is kind of ass though, so I'm glad you aren't gonna have to suffer through it.”

“Aw, but we're all in this together!” He chirped.

His friend gave Mark a small pat on his arm. “We should get a move on before the crowds get worse.”

Mark's eyes widened and he gasped. “You're right, hyung!”

“See you, guys,” you said with a small wave. The two boys threw a similarly warm goodbye to you as they slipped past you and toward the jam-packed fast food joint you had braved just earlier.

Across the wide social circle, Wooyoung couldn't hear exactly what yours and Mark's conversation entailed because of all the chatter. Sue him for being caught staring at you, but he couldn't keep his eyes off you, as per usual. There was a familiar pang in his chest as he watched you bid Mark and Doyoung from the NCT fraternity goodbye, and he mindlessly finished off the tray of fries in front of him.

Although you technically implied to him last night that there was nothing between you and Mark, there was undoubtedly a part of him that still felt jittery at the thought.

There was a nudge against his arm. “Glare even harder, and Mark might wake up with a pair of holes in the back of his head.”

Wooyoung moved his scowl to San beside him, a snicker falling from his best friend's mouth. “I'm not glaring,” Wooyoung protested and reached for a napkin in the middle of the circle.

“Oh, right,” San drawled, “you're staring at Yn.”

“Yes, and?” He shot back. “What'd'you think they were talking about?” He could practically hear the sound of your giggles in his ears after Mark said something. Wooyoung didn't like the way that made his stomach churn—the fact that this other guy was making you laugh. Did he make you laugh like that? Did you look that radiant when you were with him? God, why did you have to be so gobsmackingly gorgeou—

San considered him for a moment as he chewed on the bite of his burger. “Why don't you ask her yourself?” He muttered with a vague gesture of his aioli-covered fingers, “I dunno, go offer to drive her home or something.”

“That's the first good idea I've heard all night.” Wooyoung hopped to his feet, a misshapen plan (of sorts) manifesting in his head. Hopefully it would work out better than the movie night one. (But by some metrics, he could consider movie night a success…)

San exhaled under his breath as his friend went to go find a trash can first. “Can't believe he actually went with that,” he said with a shake of his head. He could only hope now that his friend would finally put himself out of his misery.

Having finished your post-game snack, drowsiness was slowly seeping into your joints and the corners of your eyes. It was bound to be nearing midnight at this time, and with all of the excitement within the past two days, you were about ready to head back.

You swept your eyes over the group to gauge if any of your other friends looked about ready to go home, too, when you felt someone tap your shoulder.

“Can I give you a lift home?” Wooyoung asked as he stood there, cap and glasses hanging from his hand while the other carded through his hair.

Well. “It's like you read my mind, Jung,” you mused. “Do you and your brothers not usually carpool though?”

“Eh, Hongjoong hyung brought the minivan.”

You didn't know why that comment made you laugh—perhaps it was the image of a bunch of ATZ frat members shoved into a soccer mom minivan with Hongjoong at its helm—but a laugh most definitely tumbled from your lips. The sound and sight reflected in Wooyoung's expression, a boyish grin coming to his face and reaching his eyes. “Alright, fine. As long as by taking me home, you aren't abandoning them on the streets.”

The two of you began walking side by side to where he would lead you back toward wherever his car was parked. “Nah,” he reassured you with a shake of his head. He took his cherry heart glasses and slid them up into his hair. “A nice walk home might keep them humble, y'know?”

“And who's to say you don't need humbling, Jung?” You joked.

A smirk curled up on his mouth like a cat's tail. “What? Are you going to humble me, Ln?”

You gave a nonchalant shrug to cover up the rapid pulse hammering away in your veins. “I could finesse your keys, you never know.”

He motioned to the left where his sedan was parked along the side of the street. “I'll have you know that you already have one of my keys,” he said as he rounded his car to reach the driver's seat.

You crinkled your brows together, your hand lingering on the door to the passenger's seat as he fished his keys out to unlock the car. “What key?”

“The key to my heart,” he winked, smile widening.

You glanced away, tongue jamming into your cheek to suppress your flustered smile, but by the sounds of Wooyoung's glee from the other side of the car, you were unsuccessful. “You tell that to all the girls?” You finally said when the car chirped and you slipped into the passenger's seat.

Your car doors slammed in tandem.

“Nope, that one's just for you,” he said, tossing his hat in the back and starting the engine.

The fluttery feeling in your chest was making it difficult for you to sit still. If you were so enraptured by his scent clinging to the fabric of his jacket, then his car must have been level two. Your body melted into the car seat, and you turned your head to watch the world pass through the window with a content expression on your face.

There had been something gnawing at you for a while now. You knew Wooyoung boasted a rather flirty personality; he had always been pretty outgoing and teasing ever since you met. There were so many signs that pointed to him liking you more than just a friend, but you didn't want to jump to conclusions. (Denial? What was that?)

Was this different from when Yeonjun suggested that Mark liked you? Well, yes. This was different because you… it was different because this was Wooyoung, not Mark. It was different because you were suddenly marinating on the idea of him liking you, and not dismissing it like you had with Mark.

You were growing giddy at the idea, in fact. And maybe that made you nervous.

A thought appeared in your head. “Oh, I guess it's a good thing you're taking me home, because now I can give you back your jacket.” For a moment, you deeply considered casually “forgetting” to return the garment, but your integrity won out.

You saw him glance over at you before returning his eyes to the road. “Right, right. Good idea,” he murmured. He ran his teeth over his bottom lip then. “Hey, uhm, weird question.”

“Uh oh,” you joked.

He chuckled. “Yah, it's not an 'uh oh!’ I was just wondering what Mark came to talk to you about.”

Oh. That wasn't exactly what you had in mind when he said he had a weird question.

Your eyes flickered over to him for a second. “You seem awfully interested in me and Mark,” you drawled, uncertain of where this was going.

“I mean—I know you said last night that you guys aren't that close,” he supplemented, tongue swiping over his lip as he turned the corner onto your street, “but he seemed pretty friendly tonight.”

“Mark’s always friendly,” you pointed out. Part of it was just so you could prod a little and figure out why Wooyoung was pursuing this.

“You're not wrong.”

Your head tilted to the side. “So?”

“So?”

You let out a small laugh. “Hey, Jung, what's going on? You're usually not so antsy about these things, especially not with me.” You chewed on the inside of your cheek and your fingers drummed mindlessly against your thigh in anticipation.

Wooyoung glanced over at you again, his lips pressing together. He was entering your apartment complex street now and carefully pulled up along the curb outside. “I would argue that it's the complete opposite.”

“Huh?”

“You can't possibly think that this whole time I haven't been head over heels for you?” He blurted.

Even if the car had stopped, your heart rate most definitely hadn't.

At your loss for words, he killed the engine. “Like, you think I stare at you for fun? No, actually, I stare at you because I'm literally just so attracted to you, it's survival.”

You sucked in a breath. “Jung…”

“And you know, I try to be as obvious as I can, but maybe I'm not? And I'm—I’m trying to be as loud about my feelings as possible,” he continued on, adding in an accompaniment of sweeping hand gestures. “Without actually admitting to my feelings, as stupid as it sounds.”

“Jung. Jung, wait—”

“This wasn't supposed to turn into a ramble, but what I'm trying to say is—”

“Wooyoung.”

He screeched to a halt, eyes widened as if you'd just grown two heads.

Oh, you were so endeared by this man. In this snapshot of time, there was nothing other than utter adoration in your heart for him. “You were probably being very loud, but I'm also hard of hearing sometimes.”

“Extremely,” he agreed with his mouth pressed into a line.

“Hey!”

He broke into a grin that was soft at the corners and tender at the eyes. “Just so you know, I don't treat anyone else like you. You're probably the only person I will ever address by their last name as a term of endearment.”

You laughed, skin warming to the touch. “I'll admit—same here.” A jolt of electricity warmed down your spine at the admission.

“I can't persuade you to even try a 'honey’ or a ‘baby?’ Not even a 'sweetie pie?’”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Maybe you'll unlock some of them as time goes on. It has to feel right.”

He leaned forward onto the center console, a small, happy sigh falling from his mouth. “Okay,” he said quietly. “I can deal with that.”

In reply, you twisted around in your seat to face him, your head leaned against the car seat. “Just so we're clear though…”

“I like you—I do.”

“Good.” Your lips curled into a smile. “I like you, too.”

In the low light of the car, the sky darkened and the only light coming from the streetlight a few cars away, you and Wooyoung shared a soft moment together. The thing that had been needling at the back of your mind was finally subsiding.

Swallowing, you reached forward to brush a strand of hair out of his eyes, and his eyes seemed to shudder. “Yeonjun once called you my lover boy.”

“I'm pretty sure all of our friends knew how I felt,” he snorted.

You made a small gesture with your shoulder, wincing. “Except for me?”

“Except for you,” he sighed jokingly. “Utter pain. But you know what?”

“What's that?”

“I think I like being your lover boy.”

You slowly nodded. “It has a nice ring to it.” You couldn't help another smile as you rolled it over and over in your mind. Your lover boy, your lover boy, your lover boy… “My lover boy.”

Wooyoung pressed his palms together like he was praying, his hands touching his lips. “Give me the strength—I can't not kiss you after hearing that come out of your mouth.”

Your heart gave an aggressive palpitation. “Well… I wouldn't be opposed.”

“Hey, lover girl,” he said, mouth split open with a pretty grin, “can I kiss you?”

How could you refuse?

He leaned forward and cradled one side of your face with one hand so he could press his lips against your own. If there was any doubt left in your mind about how you felt for him, it was all dashed away once he kissed you.

When your eyes fluttered open, you met his gaze.

“I think,” he murmured, thumb drawing over your bottom lip, “I just fell for you all over again.

God, how could you compete with that line? You ducked your head, unabashedly flustered. He only cooed at your reaction and came forward to smack a long kiss to your cheek.

When it was determined that you would finally head up to your apartment for the evening, you reluctantly clambered out of his vehicle. He rolled down his window so he could drape himself out of it like a damsel in a tower, his eyes shaped like hearts.

“Is it safe to say that I can keep your jacket?” You jested, stopping in front of his window.

He huffed a laugh. “You know, I thought you'd never ask. But you'll have to trade me for something of yours.”

“Deal, Jung.” You were certain you could think of something.

a/n: pls remember to reblog + comment if u enjoyed <3

atz m.list

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[nysrage]

okay walk wit me sis.. 😌

make it fit connie.. or like fake sympathy condescending connie while y’all fucking.. FUCK I LOVE THAT SHIT.. 😩

ouu girl i’m walking! lemme see if i can get it to slight jog tho!

connie wasn’t oblivious to the fact he had a big ass dick. no, not at all. he’d spent most of his late high school and early college years figuring out where’d he’d fit on the inch chain as he liked to call it. most girls not being able to handle it or wouldn’t even attempt to tame it once they saw the monster that lay behind his sweats. many of his friends making fun of him that he didn’t get pussy but in reality, no one was bold enough to take it for him. not until he got his hands on you.

the girl at his university know for her unique street art. from the city and a splitting image of a bratz doll, who was never scared of a challenge felt she was ready to tame everything in life even her above averaged boyfriend.

that is until she found herself atop of him, positioned in reverse cowgirl to give her a man a view he’d never forget. thighs burning from riding dick splitting her open as she sank down a few inches onto him. “f-fuck i can’ttt .” finding herself scurrying back up to the tip, running the longtime lovin’ he was giving you. “thought you wanted it mamí? let papí give it to you.” connie teased, long thick dick hitting every stop imaginable inside of you. “s’too much!” you whined.

“too much..?” connie chuckled, grabbing ahold of your hips and taking a good look your tight two toned pussy wrapped around him. slick dribbling down his dick as you started to fill that emptiness inside you. “nah i think my good girl can take a lil more..” sinking deeper into that clamping hole of yours, moaning at the pressure of him slowly filling you up and sitting you down on his dick. “shittt.” relaxing your body as your walls loosening with warm slick and pulsing as you adjusted to his size. slowly molding to his curvature, filling you deliciously. connie knew it just took a lil work for you to get where you needed to be. “mhm, keep opening that pussy f’me, you right there mamí.”

giving you a final deep thrust that left your soft ass flush against his pelvis, leaving stomach full and mind in sex crazed haze. “fuck this pussy s’good.” groaning as he bounced you up and down his dick, removing his hands once he felt he set a steady pace for you. Inching your hips and down slowly trying your best to take every single inch. Connie landing a rough slap to your ass that left your body jolting from the stinging pleasure. “go down on it princesa, don’t be lazy.”

“thought you said you could take it.”

ass ripppling like waves as he met your hips and fucked himself up into you focused on that pretty pussy sucking every inch of him deeper than he’s ever felt before. nails digging at his thighs for dear life as your body bounced above his, “your so fucking deep” whine barely audible above the loud gushing of your pussy let him know that it’d take every inch happily. “s’ too muchhh! con—” fucking you down on him harder as he reached the spongey spot within that always started the waterworks. “awe that’s all you can take mamí..?” voice rough and full of feigned sympathy as he held up your ass mid air and fucked up into you hard, taking his pounding like a champ and meeting his rough thrusts. A smile creeping on connie’s face once you start riding out the literal high your body was about to reach.

“and you whining it too much, pussy the perfect fit for papí.”

[sky-is-the-limit]

P: Firefighter!Gaz x F!Civilian Reader

CW: SFW/NSFW, Cunnilingus, Fingering

Captain Price's version

Firefighter!Gaz who would first appear like a savior from a dream, broad-shouldered and calm under pressure, breaking into the stuck lift with the rest of his squad.

The doors would groan open and you'd find yourself staring up at a pair of big, brown eyes and a reassuring smile that makes you forget the claustrophobic panic.

''You alright in there? I’ve got you.'' You would’ve never thought your first day at your new job would lead to this.. being pulled out by the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

Firefighter!Gaz who would run back to the firetruck just moments after ensuring you're safe, nearly knocking over his crewmates on his way just to rummage through a compartment to pull out a leaflet for a “fire safety course” hosted at their firehouse and then jog back to you, a little breathless but still flashing that gorgeous smile, saying,

"You know, it’s always good to know what to do in an emergency… I’m teaching it next week if you’re interested." The hint of nerves under his confident charm evident, realizing he’s probably more interested in seeing you again than fire safety.

Firefighter!Gaz who would watch you walk away from the scene but couldn’t stop himself from calling out, ''Don’t forget about the course!'' and when you turn back with a teasing smile, he'd feel a flutter in his chest he hasn't felt in a while. His crewmates would tease him mercilessly, Soap mostly, the entire ride back but he wouldn’t care. He’d already be planning how to make sure you’d show up.

Firefighter!Gaz who would be all cool and collected when you walk into the firehouse a week later for the course. He’d spot you immediately among the few others and make a beeline to your side, leaning down slightly, ''Glad you made it. Thought you might stand me up.'' He'd hover just close enough for you to catch a whiff of that clean, intoxicating scent he seems to carry.

Firefighter!Gaz who would make sure to focus his attention on you throughout the course, earning a few warning glances from his Captain, using every excuse to come over and “help” you like adjusting your posture when you’re learning how to hold a fire extinguisher, his hands warm and firm against your arms, his breath tickling your ear. ''Like this… see? Much better.'' He'd say, his voice lowering slightly, sending fireworks down your spine.

Firefighter!Gaz who would hand you a piece of paper at the end of the course, scribbled with his number and a cheeky note: ''In case of emergencies… or, you know, if you’re bored.''

When you look up, he'd wink but there’s something earnest in his gaze that makes you think he’s serious about you calling. You'd tease back, "Only if you come in uniform!" and for the first time, you’d see his confident exterior crack. He’d chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck, his cocky smirk turning into the sweetest side smile.

Firefighter!Gaz who would text you later that night, unable to help himself by finding your number in the contact information you had to give for the course. ''So, about that uniform request..'' He’d type, heart pounding like he’s back on a 'building on fire' mission, wondering if he’s coming on too strong or not strong enough. The thought of seeing you again would make him grin like a schoolboy with a crush.

Firefighter!Gaz who would invite you for a private “tour” of the firehouse, making it sound official but his tone giving away his real intentions. He’d lead you around, all professional until he catches you looking at him like that again, hungry, intrigued. He’d clear his throat, trying to hide the effect you’re having on him and suggest maybe you check out the back room where they keep the gear, his mind racing with all the possibilities.

Firefighter!Gaz who would find himself leaning against a wall, you pressed close in a tight corner of the equipment room. He’d be all smooth words at first, but the moment you close the distance and place your hand on his chest, he’d lose track of his train of thought. His hands would move to your waist, gripping tighter than he intended, the tension between you crackling like a live wire.

Firefighter!Gaz who would pull you flush against him and murmur, ''You know, I don’t usually do this… but there’s something about you.'' He’d trail off, his lips brushing against yours as he speaks, half-dazed with wanting, half-reeling from how much he’s already wrapped around your finger.

Firefighter!Gaz who would be breathing heavier as you drag him in by his uniform collar, your lips crashing together in a messy, heated kiss. He'd think he’s never been in a more dangerous situation in his life, the kind he never wants to escape from..

He’d press you back against the wall, hips pinning yours as his hands roam your body with one sliding down to cup your ass, giving it a rough squeeze that makes you gasp into his mouth and swallow that sound, his tongue already plunging deeper, desperate to taste more of you and breaths turn ragged, fingers digging into your flesh like he’s trying to ground himself but the way you grind against him makes it clear that he's already losing control.

Firefighter!Gaz who would groan low in his throat when your hands slip under his uniform shirt, feeling the defined muscles of his chest and stomach. His skin would be hot, his body shuddering under your touch as he bites down on your lower lip, tugging it back before whispering, ''I’ve been thinking about this since I saw you in that lift.''

Lips trail down your jaw to your neck, nipping and sucking hard enough to leave marks. His hips start to rock into yours with a slow, rhythmic grind and he’d chuckle against your skin when he feels the damp heat between your legs through your clothes.

Firefighter!Gaz who would quickly get impatient, tugging your pants down just enough to get his fingers where he needs them. He’d groan when he feels how wet you are, his fingers sliding over your slick folds before teasing your clit with slow circles.

''Fuck, you’re soaked… all for me?'' He’d murmur, his lips brushing the shell of your ear and when your hips buck against his hand, he’d press harder, rubbing faster, feeling your body respond to every flick and swirl.

Firefighter!Gaz who would sink to his knees in front of you, tugging your jeans and underwear down in one swift motion, his breath hot against your inner thighs. He’d look up at you with those big brown eyes, licking his lips like he’s about to devour his favorite meal. His mouth would be on you in seconds, his tongue flicking over your clit before plunging deep into your folds.

The sounds he’d make.. Low, needy groans vibrating against your pussy, just to drive you wild, especially as he works his tongue in and out of you, his nose brushing your swollen bud with every move.

Firefighter!Gaz who would hold your thighs open with a bruising grip, his mouth latching onto your clit, sucking and licking with a ferocity that sends waves of pleasure shooting through your body and he’d keep at it, his tongue working faster, messier, saliva mixing with your wetness as you grind against his face, riding his mouth like it’s the only thing keeping you alive with filthy, hungry slurps filling the room, mingling with your breathless moans and gasps.

Firefighter!Gaz who would grow more desperate the more you tug at his hair, his fingers digging into your thighs as he fucks you with his tongue, his mouth covered in your slick. He’d be almost feral with it, moaning against your clit as if he’s getting off on your taste alone, ''Fuck, you taste so good-'' he’d mumble between breaths, diving back in like he’s starved, tongue flicking relentlessly until you’re a trembling mess.

Firefighter!Gaz who would slide his long fingers inside you, curling them just right to hit that sweet spot while his lips stay latched on your clit and watch you lose yourself, your moans getting louder, your body arching off the wall as he pumps his fingers in and out, matching the rhythm of his tongue.

And he’d love every second of it, love the way you’re falling apart, completely at his mercy, your juices coating his fingers and chin as he brings you closer to the edge.

Firefighter!Gaz who would pull back just enough to whisper, ''Wanna make you cum so hard you forget whoever tried before me.'' Tone all rough and needy as he’d dive back in with even more intensity, fingers thrusting faster, deeper, while his tongue flicks your clit with rapid, precise strokes that would have you on the verge, teetering right there and he’d feel it, doubling down with everything he’s got.

Firefighter!Gaz who would almost growl when you finally come undone, your thighs squeezing around his head, your pussy clenching around his fingers. He’d keep working you through it, his tongue never slowing, fingers still fucking you deep as he savors every drop of your release. His name would spill from your lips like a prayer, and he’d drink it in like it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.

Firefighter!Gaz who would proudly drape his fire coat over your shoulders, the name “Garrick” emblazoned across the back and slip his hand around your waist, pulling you close as he leads you out into the hallway where the rest of the squad is gathered just to make sure that the message is clear. You were his and he wasn’t shy about showing it.

[gilbertscurls]

Everywhere ➵ Chris Sturniolo

The late afternoon sun bathed the street in a warm golden hue as you strolled toward the park, your thoughts drifting aimlessly. It had been one of those quiet days, the kind where time seemed to stretch out endlessly, leaving you too much space to think. You smiled to yourself, recalling the latest video Chris and his brothers had uploaded to their wildly popular YouTube channel.

Even though you’d known the trio for years—Chris, Nick, and Matt had been your friends since high school—it still amazed you to see how far they’d come. Their videos were blowing up, and the world was finally seeing what you’d known all along: the Sturniolo brothers were something special. But it wasn’t their success that had your head in the clouds today.

It was Chris.

He had always been the life of the group, the one who could make you laugh until your sides hurt. But somewhere along the way, the feeling you got when you were around him changed. It had become more intense, harder to ignore, and now… He was everywhere.

Every time you opened her phone, he was there—his smile, his laugh, his playful antics with Nick and Matt. Even when you weren’t scrolling through social media, something reminded you of him. A song on the radio, a phrase someone said in passing—everything seemed to lead back to Chris.

You reached the park and found your usual spot beneath a sprawling oak tree. Chris had texted you earlier, asking if you wanted to hang out, just the two of you. It wasn’t unusual, but today, there was a nervous energy buzzing under your skin. You didn’t know why.

Maybe it was because of that stupid dream you’d had the other night, where he’d leaned in close, his hand brushing your cheek as he whispered your name. You had woken up in a daze, the feeling of his touch lingering even after you opened her eyes. Ever since then, you couldn’t shake the thought of what it would be like if Chris saw you the same way you saw him.

Before you could dive too deeply into your thoughts, you heard his voice.

“Hey!”

You turned and saw Chris jogging toward you, his face lit up in that familiar grin that always made your heart skip a beat. He wore a faded band tee and baggy jeans, his hair tousled from the wind, and as always, he looked effortlessly good. You waved as he approached, your pulse quickening.

"Hey," you greeted him as he flopped down on the grass beside you, his usual carefree energy radiating off him.

You sat in comfortable silence for a while, just watching the world go by. Chris was always easy to be around—you never had to force conversation or feel like she needed to entertain you. He was like a constant presence, always there, even when words weren’t.

“You’ve been quiet today,” Chris said after a while, glancing over at you.

You shrugged, trying to play it off. “Just thinking.”

“About what?” He leaned back on his hands, his eyes studying you in that way that made it impossible for you to lie.

You bit her lip. “Just… Stuff.”

Chris raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Stuff, huh? You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

You laughed, pushing his shoulder lightly. “Fine. Thinking about you. Happy?”

His grin faltered for a split second, but it was so quick you almost missed it. He sat up straighter, his voice softer now. “Thinking about me? Why?”

You felt her cheeks heat up. “I don’t know. You’ve just been… Everywhere lately. On my phone, on my mind.” You forced a laugh, trying to downplay it. “It’s like I can’t escape you.”

Chris didn’t laugh like you thought he would. Instead, he stared at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were trying to figure something out. The silence stretched between you, and for the first time, it felt a little heavy, like there was something unsaid hanging in the air.

“Is that a bad thing?” he asked, his tone more serious than usual.

You blinked, caught off guard by his question. “No, it’s not bad. It’s just… I don’t know. I guess I’ve just been thinking about us.”

His expression softened, and he leaned in a little closer, his voice low. “What about us?”

You hesitated, suddenly feeling vulnerable. This wasn’t how you had imagined this conversation going. You hadn’t planned on telling him, hadn’t even planned on confronting these feelings, but now that the moment was here, it felt impossible to hold back.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But lately, I just… I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Chris was silent for a moment, and for the first time, you noticed the shift in his expression. There was no teasing grin, no playful glint in his eyes. Instead, he looked at you with an intensity that made your stomach flip.

“Y/N,” he started, his voice soft but steady, “I’ve been thinking about you too. For a long time.”

Your heart stopped. “What do you mean?”

He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture you recognized. “I mean… It’s not just you who’s been seeing me everywhere. I can’t stop thinking about you either. Every time we hang out, every time I see you, it’s like you’re all I can focus on. It’s driving me crazy.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t expected this. You hadn’t expected him to feel the same way.

“I thought I was imagining things,” you admitted, your voice shaky. “I didn’t think you felt that way.”

Chris let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Are you kidding me? I’ve been trying to hide it for months.”

The vulnerability in his voice was something you weren’t used to hearing from him. Chris was always so carefree, so lighthearted, but now there was a weight to his words that made your heart ache.

“So, what do we do?” you asked quietly, your eyes searching his.

He reached out, his hand finding yours, and for a moment, everything around you seemed to fade away—the noise of the city, the buzz of the world. It was just you, sitting under the oak tree, with years of friendship and something more finally coming to the surface.

“Maybe we stop pretending we don’t feel what we feel,” he said, his voice soft but sure. “And see what happens.”

You looked down at your hands, your thumb brushing against his. “What if it changes everything?”

Chris smiled, and this time, it wasn’t teasing. It was warm, genuine. “Maybe it will. But maybe that’s okay.”

You looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. The weight of the moment hung between them, heavy with possibility and uncertainty. But as Chris leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a soft, tentative kiss, all the fears, all the questions melted away.

In that moment, it didn’t matter what might change, what risks you were taking. All that mattered was the way he felt—everywhere.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06

[novascharms]

teach please me — tutor!reader x soccer player!rafe

reader's life is meticulously planned, from high school to becoming president of the country—she knows exactly where she's headed and every step to get there. but her airtight plan hits a snag when the principal ropes her into tutoring rafe cameron, the school’s star soccer player, who’s failing algebra and at risk of being benched next season. the team needs him on the field, and reader needs the principal’s glowing recommendation to secure her spot at her dream school. balancing her ambitious goals with rafe’s chaotic charm might just throw her perfectly crafted plan off track.

word count — 2.0 chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap. a.n — sorry in advance lol DOUBLE UPDATE THOUGH masterlist

ten

friday february 7th

“i think we covered that part in the google doc, right?” you murmured, scrolling through the endless document on your laptop. the screen’s faint glow reflected on your glasses as you squinted at the tiny text.

“is it the budget allocation?” gisele, the student treasurer, asked, glancing up from her own laptop, her fingers still clicking through tabs. “like, everything surrounding the budget? because i did work on that a bit, so i might’ve done it. my laptop’s just being kind of weird right now.” her tone was distracted as she fiddled with a stubborn cursor.

“y/n?” danny, your vice president, called, breaking your focus. you looked up, brow furrowing as you noticed him, gisele, and annie, the secretary, all turning their attention to the glass wall on the left.

you followed their gaze and spotted your friends outside in the hallway. ivy was tapping her watch with exaggerated urgency while devon held her phone up, the screen flashing a clear reminder: you were ten minutes late for lunch.

“uh, okay. let’s wrap up,” you said quickly, your words stumbling over themselves as you closed the document. “if we didn’t cover the allocation, i’ll handle it… whenever. anyway, see you guys next week?” you forced a smile, trying not to let the stress seep through.

danny nodded, already packing his things. “yep, see you.”

“bye!” gisele called cheerfully.

“next week!” annie added with a wave.

you slid your laptop into your bag, slinging it over your shoulder as you hurried out. “hello!” you sang, pushing the door open with a grin. “sorry, i’m late.”

hazel immediately hooked her arm around yours, her touch warm and grounding. “totally fine, but we’re dealing with an absolute tragedy,” she said dramatically. ivy jogged ahead, spinning around to walk backward, her expression exaggerated.

“devon got a seven on that philosophy paper about perfection,” ivy announced, her tone as dire as if she were reporting a global catastrophe.

your brows shot up in surprise, and you turned to devon, who was covering her face with both hands. “what happened?” you asked, concern lacing your voice. “philosophy’s your favorite class.”

devon groaned, dragging her hands down her face in frustration. “i didn’t have time to do it properly. i literally worked on it like, minutes before the deadline.” her grimace was both sheepish and annoyed.

hazel chuckled softly, shaking her head. “guys, a seven isn’t that bad.” her voice was light, trying to soothe devon’s obvious distress.

she wasn’t wrong—it wasn’t bad at all. but for your group, used to skating the upper edge of every grading curve, it felt like a glaring anomaly.

"true," ivy added quickly, as though trying to lessen the blow. "hazel and i got an 8.5." she gave a little shrug.

as the group burst into the common area, you all found an empty spot to settle in. ivy dropped into a chair with exaggerated flair while hazel and devon slid into seats across from you.

"how much did you get?" devon asked suddenly, her voice curious but a little wary.

you shrugged, fishing your phone out of your bag. "i didn’t even know we got the results already," you admitted, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear as you tapped into your school app. navigating to the grades section, you waited for the page to load, the spinning wheel on your screen adding a small sense of anticipation to the moment.

the room filled with the low hum of chatter around you, but your friends stayed quiet, leaning in slightly as they waited for your result to appear.

it all happens so fast that your brain can’t keep up. you glance up absently, just catching a glimpse of rafe as he passes by. his shoulders are stiff, tension radiating from every inch of him, his phone gripped tightly in his hand. a fresh black eye, dark and swollen, blooms angrily on his face, stark against his skin.

you barely process it. your gaze drops back to your phone, where your grade stares back at you: a perfect 10.

"i got a—" the words die in your throat as you look up again, frowning. your friends glance at you, confused as they pull out their lunches, but you don’t have the words to explain.

you toss your phone onto the table and push to your feet, already rushing out of the common area. "rafe!" you call after him as he disappears into the hallway. your friends’ voices follow you, but you ignore them, your focus fixed entirely on him. you’d explain later.

he doesn’t stop, doesn’t turn, just grunts over his shoulder, "not now." his voice is harsh, clipped—nothing like the easy, teasing tone he’d used over dinner with his parents a few nights ago.

"yes, now," you insist, quickening your pace until you’re jogging to catch up. you reach for his arm, grabbing it firmly, and he stops, though his whole body hums with resistance. "what’s wrong? what happened to your face?" your eyes scan the bruise, the deep purples and blues spreading in a jagged line across his cheekbone. it looks fresh, the kind of pain you can almost feel just by looking at it.

"nothing happened," he snaps, jerking his arm free and moving again. his tone is so dismissive, so cold, it cuts deeper than you expect.

but you don’t give up. stepping in front of him, you hold out your hands, planting yourself in his path. "rafe, that looks bad. did you ice it?" your voice softens, concern lacing every word as your eyes flick back to the bruise. you know it wasn’t there yesterday. you would’ve noticed.

his jaw tightens, and he lets out a sharp, frustrated sigh. "god, you never listen, do you?" his voice is raised, though not quite a yell, and the edge in it makes you flinch. the sting of his words sits heavy in your chest, but you bite down hard on your bottom lip, refusing to let the tears brimming in your eyes fall.

for a moment, his expression shifts—his eyes soften, guilt flickering there—but it vanishes as quickly as it appeared. his face hardens, and he tries to move past you again, brushing you aside like you’re not standing right in front of him.

"no," you say firmly, shoving at his chest—not hard enough to move him, but enough to make him stop.

before he can argue, you grab his wrist and yank him toward the nearest classroom. he protests, his voice low and angry, but you don’t let go. the door creaks open as you push it, dragging him inside and letting it close with a soft thud behind you.

the air feels heavier now, quiet but thick with unspoken tension. rafe exhales sharply, his frustration palpable, but he doesn’t pull away. not yet. you steel yourself, determined not to let him shut you out again.

"tell me what happened," you demand, arms crossed tightly as you plant yourself in front of the door, your posture daring him to try and push past you. the determination in your stance feels flimsy against the weight of his indifference, but you hold your ground anyway.

"i walked into a door," he says flatly, perched on the edge of the desk with his feet casually propped on the chair. the sight of him, so nonchalant with that faint bruise blooming on his face, makes irritation prickle at your skin.

"rafe, who did that to you? why are you so angry? just tell me what happened," you plead, the words tumbling out in a rush as you try to chip away at the fortress he’s built around himself.

"no." his voice is clipped, cold, like a door slamming shut.

"rafe—"

"i said no." he’s standing now, his movements sharp as he strides toward the door. but you’re still there, still unmoving, still stubbornly waiting for the truth.

"move. right now," he orders, his voice low and firm.

"not until you tell me who did that," you insist, anger curling around your words.

"a door," he repeats, jaw tightening.

"rafe," you snap, your patience fraying.

"i don’t want to fucking talk about it!" he explodes, the sudden intensity of his voice reverberating through the room like a storm breaking.

"don’t yell at me!" you yell back, startled by his outburst, the sharpness in his tone cutting deeper than you expected.

he exhales roughly, dragging his fingers through his hair as he turns away, muttering under his breath. "oh my… fucking—"

"and stop cursing at me," you cut in sharply, arms crossing again as you glare at him.

he lets out a bitter scoff, a smile curling on his lips—one that’s anything but kind. "any more requests?"

"yes," you say, your voice steady as you meet his heated gaze. "tell me what happened."

"no," he growls, stepping closer. "now move, or i’ll move you." the warning in his tone is clear, but so is your refusal to back down.

"stop being like this," you blurt out, your chest tightening as the tension between you grows unbearable.

his eyes narrow, his voice sharp and cutting. "how am i being? huh? how the fuck am i being? exactly like you’ve been all week?"

the accusation leaves you reeling, and you frown, searching his face for the version of him you recognize—the one who wasn’t like this, who didn’t look at you like he was trying to break through you. "what are you talking about? i’ve been nothing but nice to you, and if it’s about the bonfire, i told you i was on my period—"

"yeah, and that’s fucking bullshit!" he shouts, his voice thunderous as he stares you down. "your flo app sent you a notification tuesday. you got your period wednesday."

the words hit like a slap, your eyes widening as your stomach drops. "you checked my phone?"

he shakes his head, scoffing bitterly. "i didn’t check your phone. i saw the notification pop up. and judging by the look on your face, i’m right."

he is right, and you hate that he knows it. you nod slowly, caught, but there’s a defiance in you that refuses to let him win this argument. "fine. i lied. whatever. i just—"

"no, no, not whatever," he snaps, his voice laced with frustration. "what happened that night? you don’t think i notice how weird you’ve been acting around me?"

his eyes burn into yours, hurt flashing behind the anger, and you’re standing so close you can feel the tension radiating off him. you’re paralyzed, unsure how to explain yourself, how to navigate the landmine you’ve stepped on.

"i’m not. i’m not being weird," you try weakly, your voice faltering. "nothing happened that night or any night."

"i heard you," he says, softer this time, but the edge in his tone is unmistakable. "i heard you on the phone sunday."

your mind races, scrambling to piece together what he might’ve overheard. the memory clicks into place—your conversation with hazel.

"and i don’t even need to ask if it was about me, do i?" he continues quietly, the bitterness in his voice replaced by something more vulnerable. "you promised someone you wouldn’t get close to me?"

you exhale, your shoulders slumping under the weight of his words. "rafe—"

"don’t fucking lie to me," he interrupts, his voice sharp, loud and unrelenting.

the heat of the argument builds again, the anger and frustration spilling over in waves. "stop cursing at me!" you scream, your voice cracking under the strain.

"stop pushing me away!" he roars back, his words echoing in the charged air. "why won’t you tell me what the fuck happened, huh? why are you acting so weird? why are you being so distant? and why won’t you just let me all the way in anymore?"

the silence that follows is deafening, the weight of his words settling over both of you like a suffocating blanket. he’s breathing hard, his chest rising and falling with the effort, and you’re frozen, your mind spinning.

his gaze locks with yours, raw and unguarded, and for the first time, the fight drains out of you. you don’t have an answer—not one that will satisfy him, not one that will make any of this better. you just stare back, feeling the enormity of everything unsaid pressing between you like a wall you can’t climb.

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