#a little bit of fluff

[nauticallyhypnotical]

can i request sebastian teaching a shy f!farmer how to touch herself after learning that he's her first serious boyfriend (with a bit of a praise kink sprinkled in?)

Even though you and Sebastian had been dating for a few weeks, the two of you hadn’t really had a whole lot of time to yourselves as a couple. You were going to remedy that—tonight, you had made special reservations for a new sushi restaurant in Zuzu City. After that, you were going to take him on a romantic moonlit walk through your favorite park, and then bring him back home to your farm. You were quite nervous, as you were still a virgin and wanted to impress Sebastian. You neglected to mention to him on the ride into the city how long you spent getting ready, mulling over various outfit choices in front of your wardrobe and rhetorically asking your dog, Clover, for advice on what to wear. Eventually, you settled on a skin-tight purple dress adorned with little gold stars, the sleeves drooping loosely down your arms. 

You’d wanted him to think you were pretty. Needed it, more than you needed the air you breathe. Your heart just about burst out of your chest when he picked you up from the farm, his chocolate brown eyes lighting up when he saw you, his voice gravely and low as he says, “hey, sweetheart, aren’t you just perfect?” 

Embracing him on his motorcycle as you rode the highway into the city made your skin feel as though it were on fire, or frozen solid, or maybe both at the same time. You felt electric as you clung to him, arms wrapped tightly around his chest. Even with a helmet on, the smell of his cologne wafted into your nose, and you inhaled deeply. He smelled like the embodiment of autumn, with notes of apples and cinnamon, and it drove you crazy with desire. You almost laughed at yourself, the fact that you waited so long to have him and now that you did, you were too scared to do anything about it.  

Sebastian noticed your apprehension during dinner after about the third time of you blushing and looking away the second you two made eye contact. He looked at you endearingly with a smile on his face as you acted as shy as when you first met him, and he reached a hand across the table and encompassed it around yours. You nearly jumped out of your skin from the unexpected contact, and you timidly raise your eyes to meet his.  

“What’s got you so worked up, doll?” he asked, his husky voice sending a shiver down your spine. You pondered for a moment on what to say. 

“I just...I just wanted this night to be nice, but I can’t seem to get my nerves under control...” the vulnerability was making your heart pound, and your whole face felt like it was on fire.  

“You’re my first boyfriend, I'm basically just winging it over here because I don’t know what to do,” you looked away at that, unsure of what Sebastian must think now that he knows how inexperienced you are. Instead of pulling away, he just rubbed circles on your hand with his thumb. 

“Who said this wasn’t nice?” he finally said after a moment of silence. You met his gaze. 

“I’m eating my favorite food with the world’s most beautiful girl; how could this not be a nice night?” He let go of your hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.  

“And if I'm your first boyfriend,” he murmured, a rosy blush dusting across his cheeks as he stares longingly into your eyes, “I have to make this a night you won’t forget.”  

After paying for your meal, Sebastian took your hand and the two of you walked down the still bustling streets of Zuzu, the city that apparently doesn’t sleep. You took the opportunity away from your shared friends, as much as you loved them, to really talk with Sebastian about things you really couldn’t say in your tiny little village. You talked about why you really left your old life behind to start over in a town so small no one really knows about it, and he opened up to you about his troubled family life. By the end of the conversation, your dislike for Demetrius grew stronger. 

As the cool crisp air chilled further and conversation slowed naturally, you began to really focus on the sounds of the city. You were intrigued to hear the faint thumping of music coming from what should be an abandoned Joja Co warehouse. Outside the door, a big man was standing by, arms crossed over his broad chest as he watched any passersby.  

“Wanna check it out?” Sebastian asked you, matching your curiosity. You nodded, and he led you over to the door. You assumed the big man was eyeing you down as you approached, if his eyes weren’t obscured by black sunglasses. You wondered how he even saw anything, wearing sunglasses at night. 

“Password?” the man said gruffly. Sebastian made a point of briefly checking his surroundings before leaning in and whispering “midnight serenade”. The bouncer rapped on the door twice before stepping to the side, allowing whoever was on the other side to open it for them.  

“How did you-?” you asked. Sebastian just shrugged and gave you a mischievous grin. 

“Lucky guess,” he said. Inside the warehouse, they were immediately enveloped in a world of dimly lit ambiance and pulsating music. There was a surprising number of people, some of which were very engaged with the party lifestyle. Sebastian led you to a corner of the warehouse that was less crowded and invited you to dance with him. You had two left feet, but that didn’t stop you from accepting his proposal. The two of you laughed as you allowed the pulse of the music to fill your veins, fueling your movements. For the first time in a long time, you felt uninhibited, and you wondered how long the feeling would last.  

Yoba, it seemed, had other plans.  

The party was rushed by the ZPD, or Zuzu Police Department. Apparently, Joja Co did not appreciate occupants in its unused warehouse, even if they had no plans to do anything with it.  

With hearts pounding and adrenaline rushing through your veins, you find yourselves swept up in the chaos, frantically weaving your way through the crowd as you try to evade the authorities. You swiftly exit the warehouse through a side door and race through dimly lit alleyways to get as far away from there as possible. 

You’re still laughing when you finally reach Sebastian’s motorcycle, still parked in front of the sushi restaurant, now long closed.  

When you finally reach your farm, you ask him if he wants to spend the night, and it makes your heart flutter when he doesn’t hesitate to say yes.  

You get inside, and you both collapse on your sofa, tired from the day’s events. You instruct Sebastian to pick out a movie to play on your old box television while you toss some wood into the fireplace and get it lit, quickly returning to cozy up to his side.  

As the movie plays, and the fire crackles in the background, he lets his fingers trace idly along your arms, causing goosebumps to rise to the surface of your flesh. You nuzzle into him, and a gasp escapes your lips as his hand roams upwards, caressing your neck and threading through your hair. You can barely concentrate on the movie as Sebastian lightly scratches your head, and you grasp at his shirt when those slender fingers of his wrap around a lock of your hair and gently tug. He pulls your head back and exposes your open mouth to him, and with the movie now forgotten in the back, his tongue is sliding against your own. He brings his other hand up to cup your face, and a heat blooms deep within you. You maneuver your body until you’re straddling his hips, and with his hands now free he uses them to slide up your dress until they rest on your hips, his thumbs massaging in slow circles.  

The moment you pull away from him to catch your breath, Sebastian looks at you with lust in his half-lidded eyes.  

“How far do you want to take this, tonight?” he asks you, his voice low and full of desire. You blush and shy away from his gaze, now noticing the abundantly clear hardness forming underneath you. You bite your lip and slowly roll your hips against his, relishing in the way Sebastian inhales sharply at your motion.  

“Well,” you begin to say, “I’ve never done this sort of stuff before...Maybe you can show me what to do?” Sebastian groans when he hears you say that, and he buries his head in the crook of your neck, licking and sucking on a spot that made you feel ticklish. He grips you harder as you writhe around on his lap, arching your back so your chest presses against his. He detaches himself from your neck just long enough to pull your dress up and over your head, and he takes a moment to admire your beauty. You felt self-conscious under his gaze, so you instinctively moved to cover your chest with your arms, but his grip on your wrist halts your movements.  

“Don’t hide yourself from me, princess,” he commands, his authoritative tone making you drop your arms. You allow him to unclasp your bra, spilling your breasts out. He grabs them with both hands and begins to massage them while pinching your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. You’re moaning at his touch, and he watches you with amazement. 

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” he asks, leaning forward to place a kiss on your chest. He grinds his erection into you with his words.  

“You’re so, so perfect, baby,” he says between kisses. You squirm delightfully with his praise, needing it more than life. You realize that all you want to do is make Sebastian proud as you bring your hands up to card your fingers through his soft, dark hair. He looks up at you with a soft look before taking your lips in his own, releasing your nipples to grab your thighs and reposition you with your back on the couch. His fingers hook under the waistline of your panties, and he fervently removes them.  

Sebastian pulls away from you to stare at your fully exposed body, your face flushed and chest heaving as you pant for air. Your legs are spread with him in between them, one dangling off the couch, and he takes one of his fingers and drags it slowly along your slit. 

“Shit,” he hisses, bringing it up to his mouth to taste. “You’re so fucking wet for me.” 

“Is that good?” you ask shyly, and he chuckles. 

“Oh, sweet girl, yes. You’re so good for me,” he coos. His words of affirmation are so important to you, your hips twitch upwards in response. You spread your legs wider, allowing him to get a better look. 

“I want you to stick a finger inside, can you do that for me?” he instructs. You nod, sliding your hands down your body and using your left hand, you spread your lower lips wide. With your right middle finger, you tease at your entrance and push inwards, gasping lightly as you curl upwards.  

“I want to hear you, baby girl,” Sebastian says. You begin to whine as you pump your finger in and out of you at a slow pace; he doesn’t take his eyes off you for a second as he unbuckles his belt and unzips his trousers, pulling them off his body leaving him in only a t-shirt and boxers. He finally releases his hardened cock from its pitched tent, its tip dribbling a small amount of precum. He wraps his hand around his member and begins to masturbate, nearly choking on his words as he manages to sputter out, “p-put another finger in.”  

You do as you’re told, slipping in your ring finger, while using the digits on your left hand to rub your clit in circles. You feel pressure building up inside you, like a thread waiting to snap, the heat in your body feeling as though you were set aflame. You’re rubbing on a spot inside that has you seeing stars and feeling high. You chase that feeling, hoping Sebastian knows how hard you’re trying for him, and soon that thread finally snaps with your climax as you cry out your performance.  

“Good girl,” he says with a predatory tone, and when you pull your fingers out of your twitching vagina, he’s lining himself up at your entrance. He grabs your wrist and makes sure you’re paying attention as he cleans your release off your appendages. He’s pushing into you as he licks you at the same time, the lewdness of it all causing your already flushed cheeks to deepen in color; you felt hot, everywhere, and the overstimulation of your senses was causing your peak to rapidly build back up. Sebastian clutches one of your breasts with his free hand like you might slip away if he doesn’t keep hold of you. 

“Can you cum again for me, sweetheart?” he asks once he releases your fingers with a wet pop! You whimper as you shake your head. 

“I-I don’t know if I can, Seb,” you manage. Sebastian flashes one of his crooked, toothy grins that made you fall for him.  

“Aw, course you can, sweetheart. I'll get you there,” he purrs, and he cradles your head while leaning down to slip his tongue in between your parted lips. He’s massaging the muscle against your own in tune with his thrusts, and the hand playing with your boob now grips onto your fleshy hip. You’ve never felt closer to Sebastian, but still, it’s not enough. You need him deeper; you need him to never leave your side again. 

This time, your orgasm crashes down like a wave, an ecstasy like you’ve never felt flooding your whole body. You tremble and shake against him as all you can do is whimper into his mouth. He swallows up every last sound, his own moans better than any song he and Sam could produce. It doesn’t take long for him to follow, and he pulls out to finish on your chest. He rests for a moment, catching his breath. 

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he finally says. 

“I’ll grab a towel, get you cleaned up,” he’d been to your house countless times with Sam and Abigail, so he was quite familiar with the layout already. It didn’t take long for him to return with a rag, but it was enough time for you to doze off. Sebastian looked down at you fondly, and cleaned you up slowly, admiring his handiwork. When he was satisfied, he grabbed a blanket from your bedroom and crawled into the sofa behind you, draping an arm over your waist and holding you through the night. 

[wolfstargazer]

13th October - Moon - @wolfstarmicrofic - word count: 345

The moon was waxing, swollen in the sky, half-hidden by the horizon and the skeletal shadows of the trees on the fringes of the Forbidden Forest. But even though Remus couldn't see it clearly he could feel it - a whisper in the blood, an echo in the bone - a pin-prickling, stomach-swimming, heady sensation that caused his flesh to crawl and his heart begin to race. The boy and the wolf co-existed uneasily until the wolf finally won.

He sat, knees tucked beneath his chin, back against the cold stone of the window seat, and looked out at the moody expanse of silver and blue. He couldn't sleep. He had crept out of his bed, drenched in cold sweat, gulping for air, feeling unable to breathe. Although the air was freezing when he had cracked the window open, Remus had welcomed it, inhaling deep draughts, waiting for his skin to stop crawling and his stomach to stop gnawing with disgust.

"Here," a familiar voice from the darkness whispered. A hand was extended, grasping a cup of something steaming, and as Remus reached out to take it he caught the scent of hot chocolate, thick and dark, and spiked with cinnamon.

"Thanks, Padfoot," he said.

Sirius appeared in the sliver of moonlight opposite and leant back against the wall, dark hair tousled, eyes sleepy, stifling a yawn.

"I thought you might like it. I thought it might help," Sirius said with a shrug and a crooked smile. "Ever sense you read that book you've been banging on about the "restorative properties of chocolate" so I thought I'd conjure something up to put it to the test."

Remus took a sip. It was sweet and slightly spiced and seemed to melt away the terror of the moonlight that had kept sleep away.

Or was that the gaze of his friend, more affectionate than Remus had expected, his grey eyes thoughtful as he watched Remus drink the hot chocolate?

"Well?" Sirius asked.

Remus smiled, savouring the flavour and Sirius' apprehension as Sirius waited for the verdict.

"Perfect," Remus said.

[tmntngl]

I know no one cares about this little blog. But anyways~

I think I will let this place be a kind of reblog catalog of fic/drabbles/writing that make me feel either:

Giddy

Sad

Horny 😏

Mostly bayverse at the moment. But can change along the way!

Therefore I will go through and put tags on the reblogs. If I feel really motivated I may create a masterpost of sorts. But that will be later, if ever.

So if you by chance stumble upon this little blog, know it is dedicated to reblogs. So if anything catches your eye you need to check out the original blogger for more 😘

Let's go!

Current taglist:

[artemistorm]

Wild and legend, Wild's jewelry collection?

"So this one helps keep me cool in hot places and this one keeps me warm in cold places. That circlet that you're admiring gives me protection from guardians," Wild said holding up the two circlets.

"Nice! and what about these earrings? Are they enchanted too?" Legend asked setting down the diamond circlet and pointing to the earrings pinned to a piece of brown felt.

"They sure are! The topaz earrings are shock resistant, the opal earrings help me swim faster, and the amber earrings--which I'm wearing right now--are my personal favorite. They give me a general defense boost."

"So all of your jewelry uses gemstone-based magical boosts?" Legend asked. "Very functional. And pretty. You'll have to introduce me to your jeweler when we get to your Hyrule."

"Oh yeah, sure thing!" Wild said, putting the jewelry back into the wooden box labeled "CANNED FISH" that he kept them in.

"These are nice and all, but... I just have one question." Legend said.

"What is it?" Wild asked.

"Where are all the rings?"

[f1-birb]

i’ve had a really shitty week and if you’re in the mood for fluff i would live to read anythibg about little lando

you got it anon, I'm sorry you had a shitty week, hopefully this helps even just a little bit ❤️

Seb carefully slips his shoes off, nudging them into one of the cubbies of the storage bench they keep by the front door. He hangs his jacket on one of the hooks, his hat and scarf joining it a moment later. He moves through the hallway, lightly tapping out a quick little rhythm along the sideboard, fingers dodging picture frames and the little bear ornaments his mother bought them when they first found out they were having Lando.

He's about to round the corner into the kitchen, focus on putting his keys in the cupboard they keep them in, when he hears the rumble of Jenson's voice followed by the high pitch of Lando's toddler babble.

Course redirected, he pads through the living room and down towards the gaming room. The door's propped open by one of the F1 car doorstops Mark got them as a half gag, half housewarming gift, and Seb hovers outside the room as there's another high pitched squeal. At first he's worried, until it registers that's a happy sound and not one of distress.

"Okay, my little button, now which one?"

As he peers through the gap in the door, he makes sure to stay hidden, but watches as Lando crawls across the carpet to the floor to ceiling shelving they have built in along one wall. It's divided by a TV in the middle, trophies lining the walls and part of their collections of helmets on the two lowest shelves that run the whole width of the room.

Lando stops, seems to hesitate as he looks left and right and back again, over and over. Tiny teeth nibble at a pouted bottom lip, before he crawls to the end of the shelves furthest from the door. Seb can't quite see exactly what he points at when he flops backwards, so he creeps a step closer and has to smile.

At this point he knows Jenson knows he's there, can smell the increasing warmth of cinnamon, and he takes a deep inhale before releasing a gentle wave of pine. Call and response, a system they'd developed early into their relationship and one that was particularly useful while they were expecting Lando.

His pup still hasn't caught on yet, too distracted to listen to his sensitive little nose, and Seb watches him tug uselessly at a helmet on the bottom shelf.

Jenson chuckles, shuffling over to pull the helmet into the open and Seb can't help but grin when Lando sits patiently, expectantly.

He looks like a bobblehead when Jenson finishes slipping the helmet onto him, keeping one hand on the back of it so the weight doesn't drag Lando's head back or hurt his neck. He keeps it there until Lando's on his feet, teetering slightly but then stabilising. He does a little spin, giggling as Jenson makes all the right encouraging sounds, and it's then Seb steps into the room.

It's then that Lando notices his presence.

"Papa!" It's a loud squeal and suddenly he can't breathe as his son toddles towards him, half carried by the weight of the helmet.

Lando bumps into the arm of the sofa on his way, and Seb has never been more relieved as it's the helmet ricocheting and not his pup's actual head.

"Papa!" Lando squeals again, and he crouches down to let him fall into his arms. He scoops him up, holding him close, then stand and spins them in a slow circle. Lando's still giggling, and Seb can see the way his eyes squint with the effort of the big grin through the visor.

"Are you copying Papa and Daddy?"

"Yeah! Dis one." Lando pats the helmet on his head.

"Is this one your favourite?" Seb can feel the smugness building when Lando gives an enthusiastic nod.

"Mhmm! Papa's."

The smugness is replaced by an intense warmth, and he gestures for Jenson to come and take the helmet away. Obstruction gone, he covers his son's face in kisses, flopping onto the sofa to wait for Jenson to be done tidying up. When his mate joins them, he leans against his omega's side, nuzzling his nose against the scarred over mating mark with a soft smile.

Jenson grabs the remote, flicking the TV onto one of the movies they have on Lando's list, before pulling his husband and son closer.

"Welcome home by the way."

Seb kisses him, pulling back and smiling more at the soft look in Jenson's eyes. "It's good to be home."

[tweeksandturns]

All I'm going to say is about how heartbreaking it would be to base an AU off of the song, "its not a game/Its just a ride" from ride the cyclone. Its starts sad and ends sad, but it has the faint happiness and excitement in the middle.

[manuinout]

Okay, so...

I finished my fic about my Inside Out OC (Empathy) a few days ago, and I've been showing it to my Brazilian folks from Tik Tok

But yet, I really want to show it to you guys too, soooo...

Who wants it?

[running-ace21]

Come on over, stay as long as you'd like

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

COME REST YOUR BONES NEXT TO ME ; SATORU GOJO, SUGURU GETO

synopsis; satoru shares the first snowfall of the year with the two people he loves most. 

word count; 4.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader/suguru geto (poly relationship!!), gn!reader, you're all whipped, reader referred to as spouse, fluff fluff fluff!!, sickeningly domestic, just comfy vibes all around, mostly from satoru’s pov, suguru has a favorite (its you) (but also not really he just likes bullying toru <3), satoru gojo may or may not have unresolved mommy issues

a/n; happy satosugu holidays to those who celebrate <33 geto died today isnt that crazy. dont u think its fucked up how love figuratively and literally killed him. anyway! help urself to two very whipped husbands <33

”holy shit!”

the raspy tilt of satoru’s voice echoes throughout the bedroom, stirring you from your comfortable slumber. a soft groan spills from suguru’s lips, deep and husky, as he pulls you closer into his embrace — smoothing a warm palm down the back of your head. trying to soothe you back to sleep, muttering under his breath.

”satoru, it’s too early for this...”

”it’s snowing!” said man continues, unperturbed. unmistakably giddy. he’s standing by the window, hands pressed flush against the cold glass; entirely entranced by the sight in front of his cerulean eyes. 

your eyelids begin to flutter. a tiny tug of your subconscious, a pang of something excited flowing through your veins, an alert to your sleepy brain.

(snowing.)

with groggy movements, you wriggle out of suguru’s grasp — a displeased grumble leaves his throat, almost a whine — allowing you to scramble out of bed. ”really?” you chirp, rubbing the sleep from beneath your eyes. a raspy, meek little voice spilling into the air.

satoru grins, watching you move closer, watching as a tiny gasp pushes past your lips. watching as your droopy eyes widen — brightening, glittering, starlight and snowflakes painted on the interior of your iris. a breathtaking sight, he thinks. 

maybe even more breathtaking than the winter wonderland reflected in it; beyond the pure opaque frosting of the window’s glass, out into your backyard, buried beneath a thick layer of snow. soft and fluffy, covering the city, suguru’s long-frozen tulip garden, the bare branches of your apricot tree. every roof in sight. all of it dyed a pure white, glittering in the light of a morning sun yet to fully rise, tiny snowflakes descending down to earth. 

it’s beautiful. 

satoru loves winter. he always has, he thinks. it comes to him as a memory — blurred at the edges, gleaming even still, the first time he saw those snowflakes up close. someone held him in their arms, he recalls. a warmth long faded. 

all he can properly remember is that sight. one that knocked the breath from out his tiny lungs, all glitter and something almost other-worldly, something frightening in its majesty. like it broke through a rift in the stratosphere. 

the first snow of the year.

and he’s loved it ever since; the soft crunch of snow beneath his feet, an air heavy with the scent of cinnamon and candied apples, bouts of laughter to be heard from faraway apartments. red and green glimmers of artificial light, sweet frosting on the christmas cake he would always gobble up alone in his room. the cold wind, nipping at his bare fingers — a reminder of his capacity for ache.

there are lots of things to love. lots of memories to cherish. and every single year, he gets the chance to make more.

like this; the light in your eyes, the smile on your face, the excitement in how hurriedly you turn to meet his giddy gaze. a nostalgic kind of joy simmering in the space between you.

and before either of you know it, satoru’s pulling you towards the hallway, intent on dragging you outside to see it all up close. almost tripping over his agumon plush, lying unassumingly on the floor, kicked off the bed once again. 

(probably by satoru himself, though he’ll always insist it was suguru’s doing. overcome by his jealousy, surely, unable to stand the sight of his cute husband cuddling up to a plushie instead of him. satoru understands, he does — he feels the same when he sees you hug that 3’0 cat plushie of yours.

and, sure, maybe once or twice he’s been lucid enough to register the subconscious kick of his leg and agumon’s subsequent fall to the floor — but he’ll still blame suguru in the morning. if only to see the way said man rolls his eyes, clicks his tongue, maybe flicks his forehead if he’s really lucky.)

high on the spirit of christmas, spurred on by childlike elation and sleep-deprivation, you stumble towards the door. satoru pulls one of his jackets over your shoulders, delighting in the way your hands don’t fully reach through the sleeves. wrapping you up in a cozy scarf when suguru shouts at you both to dress warmly, barely awake and already tired of your antics.

and the moment you step through the door, satoru is engulfed by it. that mystical, mystical feeling. 

a little lonely, a little too satisfying to pass up. a cold breeze that nips at his fingertips, snowflakes that brush against his cheeks and stick to his white lashes. a warm hand in his, as you cling to his side, shuddering — but smiling, as you look up at the sky, putting a hand out just to feel the snowflakes melt against the skin of your palm.

he feels you let go of him, but doesn’t mention it. a little too mesmerized to tug you back. dipping his toes into the bittersweet nostalgia of it all, staring at the flurry of white all around you, the skeletal branches of your apricot tree. suguru’s poor tulips. humming a jolly tune, subconsciously. a little delighted.

— until something cold and wet hits the exposed skin of his neck.

satoru twitches, a chilling shudder trickling down his spine. the snowball just thrown at him begins to melt, droplets sticking to his nape, and he turns to you with a raise of his brow. a devilish grin on his lips, when he hears your muffled laughter, sees the crinkle of your eyes.

(you’re cute, he thinks. but you need to be humbled.)

”oh, so that’s how you wanna play?” he drawls, eyes gleaming with amusement. taking a step forward, reaching down to gather some snow in his palm. a wide grin on his glossy lips. ”fine by me.” 

he's fast, but you act quickly, running towards the apricot tree with laughter in your throat. feeling the pitter patter of your heartbeat resound in your ears, as the snowball misses its mark by just a hair — and you waste no time in making your own.

it’s a hard-fought duel. snowfall blocking your vision, nerves beginning to numb, red cheeks and runny noses as you chase each other with giddy breaths. unfortunately for you, satoru’s arms are unfairly long, fingers unfairly nimble, and his stamina never even seems to falter.

so before long, your energy begins to dwindle. chest heaving, hands too cold to form a proper snowball, while your husband seems like he hasn’t even broken a sweat. they just keep on coming, snowball after snowball colliding with the fabric of your jacket, and when one of them hits your collarbone you squeal — falling backwards, right into a fresh pile of snow.

satoru moves forward, a triumphant smirk on his handsome face. you’re out of breath, and your hands are red, and he’s fairly certain you’re gonna catch a cold. suguru’s going to scold him, but right now all he can think of is you. the frown you’re wearing, the little huff that slips from your lips.

”ready to admit defeat, sweetheart?” he practically purrs, standing above you with his hands on his hips. smug. and you grin right back.

”never.”

a hum. something glimmers in his eyes, a devious little glint, and you come to regret your decision when satoru gathers a heap of snow with his overgrown arms; only to drop it all on top of you. too tired to fight back, all you can do is shield your face, silently accepting your fate.

a shiver wracks through your body, and satoru almost feels bad. just a tiny bit. but then you finally relent, murmuring bitterly under your breath. ”fine, fine…” a soft pout forms on your lips. ”you win.”

and satoru smiles. crouching down to meet you at eye level, on his knees in front of you. there’s a teasing mirth in his eyes, when he reaches out to cup the fat of your cheek. ”that’s all i wanted to hear, sweet pea,” he drawls, trying not to giggle when you exaggeratedly roll your eyes.

his voice curls down an octave when he continues, leaning forward to brush his nose against yours. hot breath against your chilled skin. ”now, for my prize…”

his lips meet yours, sweet and chaste — a little cheeky. you scoff into the kiss, but satoru’s smile only grows. honeyed, a little bit adoring. his tongue flits out to lick at your cold bottom lip.

he lingers, for a bit. like he’s trying to savour the way you taste, faded strawberry chapstick sticking to his lips, smudged against your own. and you sigh, softly, melting a little, comforted by the fleeting warmth that blossoms on your face. 

when he's finally satisfied, having dragged his prize out to its completion, satoru helps you up. brushing snowflakes off your jacket, cradling your ice-cold hands in his. they’re not faring much better, but a worried tug of his heartstrings compels him to warm you up. bringing them to his lips, hot breath fanning over your skin, tender little kisses against the knots of your knuckles.

you can’t help but blush, and a raspy chuckle flows from out his lips. 

hazy morning sunshine licks at the branches of the apricot tree behind you, illuminating the contours of your face, the shine of his eyes. a blue smudge on a canvas painted white and gray. the air smells of pine cones and something smokey, crisp. it courses through his burning lungs when he inhales, exhales, a breath of vapour that scatters up into the sky.

satoru loves winter. always has. but now, he’s certain he loves it even more.

because now, he has two people to share it with. two people to drag out into the snow, two people whose hands he can tenderly warm up, two people who’ll laugh and sigh at his antics and still indulge him. two people to pelt with snowballs. 

what more could a man want?

”hey, idiots!” 

the voice that echoes throughout the air is exasperated, a little teasing. yet fond. suguru’s got his hair tied into a messy half done bun, black turtleneck sweater enunciating his broad chest and the curve of his waist. there’s a fatigue in his eyes, the creases of his face, but a lazy smile is playing at his lips.

”i’m making breakfast,” he shouts, voice deep and smokey and soft even still. ”come in and warm up before you catch a cold.”

”is that any way to speak to your husband and spouse?” satoru chimes back, a melodic lilt to his sugarsweet voice. something satisfied. pleased.

suguru shoots him an unimpressed look, but his eyes soften. melting a little, at the words that spill from satoru’s lips, as if they were always meant to be there. 

(husband. spouse. suguru wills himself not to smile.)

with matching grins on your faces, the two of you stumble back towards the door. snow crunching beneath your feet, a happy noise pushing past your lips when you collide with the warmth of your husband’s chest.

”look, suguru. isn’t it pretty?” you chirp, smiling brightly. an expression he mirrors — brushing some snow from the top of your head, warm palms caressing your cold skin, setting a mental reminder to scold satoru later. sparing a brief glance at the snowy veil over reality.

then he exhales. a fond hum. ”it is.”

satoru joins you both by the door, stretching out his lanky limbs. tousled hair, wet strands sticking to his skin, reddened cheeks and a signature pout. ”suguru, my hands are cold,” he whines. ”warm ’em up for me?”

a click of his tongue. ”should’ve put some gloves on, satoru.”

a hum buzzes in your throat, and you put your hands out. itchy, a little dry. a sad frown tugs at your lips when you speak. ”my hands are also cold.”

and, like clockwork, suguru’s eyes soften. a coo tiptoeing on his tongue, engulfing your hands in his larger ones. ”aw, c’mere, my love…” his breath fans over your frozen fingertips. ”let’s get you warmed up, hm?”

satoru gasps, a hand on his chest, and you stifle a giggle. he’s acting, you both know, being a little drama queen. he knows you’re just exaggerating suguru’s double standard as a bit, that your husband would probably set himself on fire to warm either of you up.

despite that, his voice comes out thoroughly offended. ”oh, i see how it is,” he huffs, walking past the both of you. pouting deeply. ”you hate me. you hate me, and you want me to die. i understand.”

”satoru,” you coo. he hmphs, but stills, waiting for you to wrap your arms around him. and you do — a little too eager to appease your giant baby of a husband.

”we’re just joking around,” you assure him, holding back a humorous chuckle. squeezing his waist with palpable fondness. ”love you sooo much. you know that.”

satoru stays silent. but he cranes his neck, to meet suguru’s gaze, standing just behind him. narrowing his cobalt eyes — a meaningful look.

suguru sighs.

”yes, yes. we love you oh so much.” he takes a step forward, ruffling the white head of hair by the door. a lazy smile on his lips. ”now behave and go change out of your pyjamas. they’re soaked.”

his voice is teasing. exasperated, more than a little condescending. but it’s suguru, so satoru accepts it — following you both into the warmth of your home. the scent of cinnamon and vanilla hangs heavy in the air, a hint of espresso and firewood, lulling him into a sweet state of tranquility. rich with comfort, safety.

he changes out of his wet clothes, pulling a black hoodie over his head before waltzing into the kitchen. and you do the same, emerging from your bedroom in one of suguru’s cozy sweaters, knitted and smelling of bergamot. 

when suguru notices, his gaze shifts into something fond. palpable. a look satoru always finds in the scope of those warm eyes, amber and cedar bleeding into something sweet, only ever directed at the two of you. a look said man assumes goes unnoticed. he’s not as slick as he thinks.

the kitchen simmers with hazy sunlight and gentle movements, something sleepy and kind. satoru is a little bit enamored with it; from bowls of cat food by the corner, to camellias by the windowsill, cookie jars and dried lemon slices, the fading scent of baked goods and wishlists stuck to the fridge.

(yours and satoru’s are filled with scribbles, new ideas popping up daily, while suguru’s is almost entirely blank; mostly necessities, one or two things he’d like for himself.

and then, of course, the same thing he writes at the top of his wishlist every year; some peace and quiet.)

suguru shuffles around the kitchen, long strands of black hair cascading down his back, swaying with his movements. he sends you both an affectionate glance when you step in, already in the process of making satoru his cup of hot chocolate — topped with marshmallows and whipped cream, colorful sprinkles in the shape of tiny stars, a touch of cinnamon. satoru licks his lips.

when it's finished, the cup is promptly handed to him, paired with a tender kiss to his forehead. and suguru starts the meticulous brewing of your coffee, steady hands, finely chosen coffee beans, the low purring of the espresso machine. soothing.

that’s when you attach yourself to his back. wrapping your arms around his waist, a sleepy yawn muffled into the fabric of his turtleneck. he places a big palm on your hand, thumb smoothing over your knuckle, and you nuzzle into him silently. suguru smiles.

”still sleepy, baby?” he questions, a coo on the tip of his tongue. his voice is soft, palpably so, buzzing with warmth and safety and something that makes you want to stay cuddled up to him forever.

satoru senses an opportunity to insert himself into the conversation, and forces out a yawn of his own. stretching his limbs like a big cat, blinking drowsily, eyelashes fluttering. hoping it’ll come off as endearing. ”mhm.” 

but suguru shoots him an unimpressed look. ”not you,” he tuts, patting your arm, ”this baby. i wasn’t asking you.”

a pout. ”why are you so mean to me?” he whines, shooting you a doe-eyed look. bottom lip jutting out slightly, a feigned glassiness to his eyes. ”sweetie, tell your husband to stop being so mean to me.”

you smile. indulgent, as always. ”don't be so mean to him, suguru. you know he’s sensitive.”

a sigh. deep, tinged with exhaustion. satoru shares an amused look with you — stifling a shared chuckle at suguru’s exasperation.

and suddenly, he feels something warm flutter in his ribcage. a sunkissed butterfly, wings brushing against his ribs, coaxing his lips into curling up. unmistakable fondness, almost too much to bear. the need to reach out and touch you creeps up on him, a hunger he can’t deny, but he holds back; you look comfy like that, curled up against suguru’s spine. so he only inches closer, without a word. 

his husband casts him a glance, but satoru stays silent. lips pursed, waiting for something. patient.

and suguru relents. he reaches a hand out, to tuck a stray strand of white hair behind his ear — an excuse to touch him. a silent apology. 

(i'm sorry, you big baby.)

satoru grins.

you shift from foot to foot, leaning over to see what suguru is doing, pressing buttons and taking two ceramic cups out from a wall cabinet. your eyes zero in on a particular shelf, narrowing in suspicion, before flitting over to meet your husband’s gaze.

”satoru, did you use up all my peppermint sweeteners again?”

he stiffens. just a tad, before swallowing a gulp — followed by a silly chuckle, sheepish and performative, eager to wiggle his way out of your cold gaze. ”… which sweeteners do you mean, honey?”

”don’t pull the ’honey’ card.”

”and don’t play dumb, either.”

a pout crosses his lips. betrayed. ”suguru, who’s side are you even on?”

said man gives him a look. that one look, characteristically suguru, the same one he always sends satoru’s way. one so thoroughly unimpressed it makes him feel like the world’s biggest clown. 

and satoru plays along. your dutiful, beloved clown, his posture wilting like a sad flower. suguru exhales through his nose.

”don’t steal their sweeteners.” he smooths a thumb over your knuckle, absentminded, meeting the cold metal of the ring on your finger. smiling a little at the sensation. ”buy your own.”

satoru huffs, drawn out and childish. crossing his arms, leaning against the kitchen counter. ”ah, i see how it is. leaving your sweet husband to buy his own sweeteners?” he clicks his tongue. ”chivalry is dead.”

you bite back a little chuckle — satoru recognizes the cute noise you make when you do — and suguru rolls his eyes. fondly, always. ”remind me next time i go to the store and i’ll consider it.”

”hmph.”

suguru is smiling. it’s small, but genuine, worth a thousand words. and you are, too, the vague crinkle of your eyes giving you away. even as you bury your face in the curve of suguru’s back.

and ah, satoru thinks. there it is again. 

that sickeningly sweet sense of deja vu; the sensation of a certain something flourishing deep inside his chest. warming him up, trickling through his frost-bitten veins. that one little itch he never manages to satisfy, that never goes away, something that took root inside his heart years ago — watered by the sweet looks on your faces.

this everyday slice of heaven, right in front of him, that he’s been greedily partaking in ever since he moved in with you. since he married you.

(married.)

sometimes he still can’t believe it. 

”it’ll be done in a minute,” suguru hums, and satoru blinks. broken out of his syrupy stupor. ”you two go wait by the kotatsu, okay? must be cold, poor babies.” 

and, as always, his voice is a little teasing. a tiny bit condescending, if you really strain your ears, in typical suguru fashion. but it’s laced with a touch of sweetness; one that would be too much for either of you to stomach, if it were to drip out of his lips with nothing to water it down. so satoru accepts it. welcomes it, even.

and you follow his suggestion. making your way towards the living room, satoru trailing behind you, continuously enamored by every little thing he sees. every little piece of the home you’ve built for yourselves.

your living room is cozy. several potted plants seated here and there, a thick quilt to cover the kotatsu, a bowl of satsumas on top of it. a sleepy cat on your couch, golden sunshine ruffling her fur. a santa hat lies beside her, and satoru snags it without much thought. pulling it over his head.

his gaze shifts to the christmas tree over in the corner, eyes filling with a childlike kind of wonder. it’s decorated to completion, weighed down by colourful ornaments and lights, a star at the very top. suguru cut it himself, bringing the biggest and prettiest one he could find back home.

(satoru had gone with him. partially to help carry it back, mostly to get a glimpse of suguru's biceps flexing with the swing of the axe. he’s a simple man.)

and beneath it, presents are already beginning to pile up. carefully wrapped, in bows and silken paper, growing more each day. shattering suguru’s hopes of maybe having a more lowkey christmas this year — but satoru couldn’t be more relieved. this is the only time of year you let him get away with pampering you both to his heart’s content.

a smile blooms on his lips. he plops down on the floor, crossing his legs, right as suguru walks in with a coffee pot in hand. their gazes overlapping.

and something mischievous begins to brew within the blue of his eyes, something that makes suguru narrow his own. satoru pats his thigh, twice, a coo on the tip of his tongue. santa hat sitting pointedly on top of his head, fluffing up his hair.

”c’mere, suguru! sit on santa’s lap.”

”— you’re disgusting.”

the words are playful, but a pout still slips into the curve of satoru’s lips, and he huffs out a displeased little breath. his husband pretends not to hear it, so satoru turns to you — sitting so prettily to his right, already anticipating his next move. puppy dog eyes on full display, he gives you a soft tilt of his head, snowy tufts of hair falling over his eyes.

and you sigh, in what he knows is resignation. his faux pout turning into a satisfied grin.

you curl up in satoru’s lap without much of a fuss, letting him circle his arms around you. an indulgent smile rests on your lips, but he knows you love this; his broad chest against your back, the heat of the kotatsu warming your feet. breathing in the fading scent of your shampoo, he leaves a peck on the sensitive spot right behind your ear, and you try not to shudder.

then satoru smiles. squeezing you, lightly, sweetly, eyes rich with honeyed affection. voice dripping with playful endearment. ”there we go,” he coos. ”what does my angel want for christmas, hm?” 

”i want you to stop stealing my peppermint sweeteners,” comes your answer. instantaneous.

silence fills the room. a moment passes. outside your frosted windows, a bird takes flight from the branches of your apricot tree. and satoru clicks his tongue.

”… santa can only do so much, baby.”

two deep scoffs fill the air, heavy and bemused. one from you, one from suguru. satoru only giggles.

”just kidding!” he chirps, planting a kiss on the top of your head. ”don’t you worry. santa’ll give you all the peppermint sweeteners you could ever want.” 

you raise a brow, exhaling amusedly. craning your head to meet his gaze. ”and he won’t end up using them all himself?”

”of course not! blasphemy.” 

a moment passes.

”… maybe one or two. as a treat.”

a string of protests slips from your lips, and satoru tries not to burst into a fit of giggles. suguru just watches, silently, smiling lightly as he pours hot coffee into two ceramic cups. steam wafting up to the ceiling, a cat jumping down from the couch to curl up in his lap. he places one in front of you, not taking a single sip of his own until he hears you hum blissfully at the taste — pink lips against white ceramic. a bitter taste on his tongue, sweetened by your approval.

then he starts peeling three satsumas, absentmindedly, and satoru swallows down the love-ridden honey choking up the back of his throat. pretending the domesticity of such a simple action doesn’t melt his heart down to the marrow. 

he turns his attention towards the window. frost sticking to the glass like spider-woven webs, soon to be melted by the glow of the mellow winter sunrays. flitting in through the curtains, cascading over the room, splattering across the floorboards. framing the hue of your hair, the smile on suguru’s lips.

and a memory comes to him. sudden, hazy, faded at the edges. ghosting his subconscious.

he remembers the frost, the biting wind, the frightening majesty of the snow that fell that day. breaking into his world through a rift in the stratosphere. he remembers the contrasting warmth of the person who held him, who cradled him close; the soft lull of a woman’s voice. 

for a moment, satoru thinks he can almost, almost see it before him. hear those gentle words, see her tired smile. why was she always so tired?

(look, satoru. isn’t it pretty?)

— he can’t recall how it sounded. if it was melodic and soft, or raspy and broken, happy or sad. but he does recall that it made him feel safe. safe enough to find comfort in a sight so other-worldly, so very foreign.

it should’ve been frightening, but it wasn’t. the first snowfall satoru ever saw knocked the breath from out his lungs, stole his heart with cold hands, left him with a suffocating nostalgia. but the memory is precious.

and now, he feels that sense of other-worldliness in this; a kotatsu for three, a warm house, peeled satsumas and promises of a christmas cake soon to be baked. one lovely spouse in his lap, the other gazing at him with that fond look he always assumes goes unnoticed. a cocoon of safety — a ghost he doesn’t need to chase anymore.

warmth. enough warmth to make up for the snow and frost outside your home, all the experiences he missed out on as a child. warmth, warmth, warmth. funny, how that happens to be satoru’s favorite thing about winter. 

he looks at the two of you, hoping you won’t pay any mind to his silence. for once, he hopes you’ll stay wrapped up in your awful, awful coffee, so bitter that just looking at it makes his throat feel dry. just so he can get away with admiring you for a little longer. from the contours of suguru’s face, to the skin of your collarbone, to the rings on your fingers. ones he put there himself. 

and ah, satoru thinks, there it is again. again and again, as always, forever. that warm, warm feeling flourishing in the depths of his chest. 

he hopes it never goes away.

[hairmetal666]

Eddie thought inviting Steve to the Grammys would be fine, cool, no big deal. And it should be, but Steve is walking out of the suite's bedroom wearing a burgundy tuxedo that fits him like a fucking glove. His shirt is unbuttoned just enough to let chest hair peak out, and Eddie thinks he might faint.

He's always been attracted to Steve, of course, but never let it go further than that. Like, sure, Steve was hot as fuck, and sure he was the best guy Eddie had ever met, and sometimes, yeah, he did have to force away thoughts of Steve when he jerked off, and in other circumstances he'd totally be head over heels. Just, Steve is straight, the straightest, a fucking arrow.

Eddie tears his eyes from Steve's body. "You look great, man." He slaps Steve's back. Keeping it cool; keeping it so cool.

"Psh," Steve says. "Have you looked in a mirror? Oh my god." His eyes are saucer wide as they travel down Eddie's body.

"Is it too much?" Eddie crosses his arms over his bare chest.

"Are you kidding? You're--fuck, man. You look good as hell."

He's wearing a silky burgundy shirt, open to show off the necklaces around his throat, his tattoos, the silver in his nipples. His pants are leather, tight, sitting low on his hips and putting the cut of his pelvic bone on full display. They have a lace-up closure that comes dangerously close to showing pube.

Heat rushes to his face at the compliment. "It's--you know. Hazard of the job."

"Yeah, hazard, sure. Guess it's a hard life having hot dudes literally throwing themselves at you."

Eddie barks out a laugh. "That's a vast exaggeration."

"Is it?"

He blushes harder. "You're my date tonight, Steve."

"My point exactly."

His manager and publicist usher them out the door before he can ask what the hell that meant.

---

The ride is giddy and playful, Steve popping champagne to celebrate Eddie's nomination for Song of the Year, even though there's no chance in hell he wins.

Steve is happy. His face is bright with joy, eyes shining, laugh loud and infectious. He's gorgeous, knows it, will be an absolute menace on the red carpet. He's been with Eddie to parties and stuff before, doesn't have any anxiety in front of the camera and isn't obsessed with musicians like Eddie is, unafraid to meet them.

Or so Eddie thought.

Because now they're standing at the edge of the red carpet, Steve very nearly trembling next to him.

"Harrington?"

"That's--That's Madonna." Steve points to her. "We're not even ten feet away from Madonna." He gulps. "Eddie. Madonna."

Steve has met famous people before with Eddie. Ozzy, briefly, Janet Jackson, Dave Grohl, James Hetfield, and he'd always been fine. Barely batted an eye. But get him within reaching distance of Madonna and he falls apart.

Eddie doesn't think about it, grabs Steve's hand, twines their fingers together. "Okay?"

The smile Steve throws him, grateful and a little embarrassed, stabs straight through his heart. He calms as they make it up the carpet, but he doesn't drop Eddie's hand, even when they pause for pictures. In fact, he leans into it, drapes his arm around Eddie's shoulders, or around his waist, seeming to thrive the closer they are. Eddie feels this dangerous pull to indulge in it, to let himself believe it means something, and he doesn't quite have it in him to turn it off.

By the time they reach their seats, Steve is relaxed back to his normal charming and handsome self, doesn't bat an eye as Eddie introduces him around.

The show passes quickly with all the performances and Steve whispering jokes in his ear. It's the best time he's ever had at an award show, like he should have been bringing Steve along this whole time. He's so distracted that he's not really ready when Paula Abdul comes out to announce Song of the Year.

His name is read off as a nominee and Steve grabs his hand, squeezes tight. Eddie's heart flips in his chest. He's not paying attention when Paula opens the envelope, too focused on Steve's strong hand holding his. He hears her say, "And the Grammy goes to--" and everything goes fuzzy.

Steve is saying, "oh my god, oh my god, Eddie. Get up, get up."

And his fucking song is playing and everyone is cheering, a couple people slap his back, and oh shit, oh shit, he fucking won. He stands, Steve with him. He thinks they're going to hug, that's what you do in these situations, but Steve is kissing him. Not on the cheek and not a quick peck, but lip-to-lip, soft and sweet.

Steve just kissed him and he has to get on stage and give a speech. He has no idea what he says because Steve just kissed him. On the lips. On purpose. His ears are ringing and words tumble out of his mouth, thinks he says, "couldn't have done it without you, Stevie," before tripping over his feet to get backstage.

Interviews, photographs, congratulations all help him settle. He's still buzzing with the win, but aware enough now to think the kiss had to be an accident. They've been friends for nearly a decade and Steve never seemed interested in men generally or Eddie specifically.

It takes a while to finish up the backstage business, but when he makes it to his seat, Steve just beams at him. He doesn't mention the kiss, which makes Eddie think he's overreacting. It wasn't a big deal. Sure, he could still feel Steve's lips, warm and soft, against his own, but it didn't mean anything. He's just too in his big gay feelings to be objective.

They don't get a chance to really talk until they're back in the limo and on their way to the after-party.

"You won," Steve says.

"I won." Eddie smiles. "Crazy."

"You deserved it."

He shrugs. "I don't know about that."

"Doesn't matter. You did." Steve fidgets with the cuff of his jacket. "About earlier, um. The kiss. I--"

Eddie feels his face heating, heart kicking up. It was nothing, he knows, and Steve shouldn't have to-- "It was an accident. It's okay. I know you don't--it was the heat of the moment and--I know you're not--you don't--"

Steve blinks a lot, emotions flashing across his face faster than Eddie can categorize.

"What if I do?" Steve asks. His voice is too soft, eyes locked on the cuff link he's fiddling with.

"You--what?"

"What if I did mean it?"

"You're straight."

Steve goes pink. "I'm really not."

"Steve?" He shrieks. "Since when?"

"Um. Since you invited me to this?"

"What the fuck?" Eddie shoves him. "What the fuck, man?"

"I know, I know!" Steve pulls his hand through his hair. "You invited me and I freaked out and I didn't know why, and Robin made the saddest little face at me. Said, 'oh, dingus, you didn't know?' How the fuck was I supposed to know!"

"I think you wanting to fuck me should've been a pretty good indication!"

"I thought that happened to everyone!"

"It doesn't!"

"That's what Robin said!"

They're both yelling.

"Jesus christ. Jesus christ," Eddie keeps repeating.

"Look, I get it if you don't want me too, dude. I know that's not how it works, but I've been pretty crazy about you without realizing it for a while now, so--"

He doesn't mean to, he really doesn't, but he laughs. Like, super loud. Like a donkey bray.

"Okay, can the driver let me out? Like, can I go? I can't--"

"Wait, wait, sweetheart." Steve's gotten up, like he's about to knock on the partition, but Eddie grabs his wrist. "Of course I want you back, you idiot, oh my god."

"Oh." Steve's ears are pink. "Oh. Well. That's good."

Eddie huffs. "Just good? I won a Grammy and the guy I've been pining over for years wants me back. I'm having the night of my life."

"Shut-up." Steve's smile is so big, his eyes so bright.

He raises an eyebrow. "Make me," he says in his lowest register, but he's truly not prepared for it when Steve clambers over to him and lowers himself to straddle Eddie's hips.

"Holy shit," Eddie whispers. "Holy shit, Steve."

He give a wry little smile, eyes locked on Eddie's mouth. "Baby, can I kiss you?"

"Yes." Eddie clears his throat. "Yes, please, do that. Yeah."

Only, he doesn't. He's straddling Eddie, they're so close their breath mingles, and Steve's eyes flicker between Eddie's mouth and his eyes, lips so close to touching but not.

"C'mon, asshole," Eddie says.

"I knew you'd be a brat." He whispers. He wraps his hands into Eddie's hair. "Been dying to do this."

And then they're kissing. They're kissing and it steals all of Eddie's breath and his thoughts, and it's new but it's also like they've been kissing forever, like their lips and tongue know each other, like coming home.

He whines, high-pitched and breathy, and Steve laughs, kisses him deeper, moves closer, and Eddie feels how hard Steve is, the persistent pulse of him. And shit Eddie's close, on the brink just from this, from nothing, oh my god.

Steve's hands drift down Eddie's torso, mapping his chest and his stomach, coming to rest at the laces of his pants. "These have been driving me insane," Steve breaks the kiss to say. "Been thinking about undoing them all night."

"Fuck, sweetheart, you can't say shit like that," Eddie groans.

"Why not?"

"Because--because," Eddie sputters but then Steve's lips are on his neck and he's rolling his hips for friction.

Steve's fingers find the laces again, trace against them. Eddie's legs fall open, arching into the touch. "We're going to be so late," he murmurs as Steve's fingers get to work.

[xinganhao]

💘 fake dating seungkwan.

☆ Breaking: SEVENTEEN's Seungkwan Confirms He's In A Relationship [BREAKING] 30m ago

Boo Seungkwan of SEVENTEEN confirms that he's currently dating someone. This comes on the heels of Dispatch reports that Seungkwan is involved in a romantic relationship with an actress.

Seungkwan's agency, Pledis Entertainment, has confirmed the idol's relationship status. "Seungkwan is seeing someone with positive feelings," the agency says in a statement. "We hope that you will look warmly upon their relationship."

Congratulations to the couple!

Listen to SEVENTEEN's newest mini album 'SPILL THE FEELS' here.

COMMENTS • 204 COMMENTS

r/kpop • 3d ago donquix0tes

'Fake dating' contracts?

i swear i'm not just in denial about bsk's dating news (LOL) but i heard rumors that 'fake dating' exists in the industry, especially between actors/actresses - idols??? they said it's this whole underground thing so the actors get more traction, the idols get more streams. is this real or is it just stuff you see in fanfics 😂 i'm asking because i can be a bit gullible lmfao

↑ 30 ↓ 🗨 12 ↷ Share

Contract No. 052615PROFESSIONAL SERVICES AGREEMENT

THIS AGREEMENT made and entered into this 28th day of SEPTEMBER 2024 by and between BOO SEUNGKWAN, hereinafter called IDOL, and [YOUR NAME], hereinafter called ACTRESS for a FAKE DATING ENGAGEMENT.

A. IDOL and ACTRESS agree to engage in a fake relationship for the intents and purposes specified under I: RATIONALE, which by this reference is incorporated herein.

B. This Agreement shall take effect on OCTOBER 28, 2024; contingent upon prior approval to the agencies of IDOL and ACTRESS. The Agreement shall end on MARCH 31, 2025, unless earlier terminated or extended by contract amendment.

C. IDOL/ACTRESS may terminate this Agreement for its convenience any time, in whole or part, by giving the opposing party fourteen-day (14-day) written notice thereof.

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seungkwan updates @boosadanfiles seungkwan at the recent christian louboutin event 🥹 in the caption of the post, he said @yourusername was his date! 🗨 191 ⟳ 1.8K ♡ 5.9K

´◡` ꗃ @yourusername lucky to be doing this with a friend. you make it easy, @hit_thekwan. — Jeju-do, South Korea 🗨 1 ♡ 3

��� ꗃ @hit_thekwan Replying to @yourusername we still have three more months 😆 don't give up on me yet

From: Boo Seungkwan <boo.seungkwan98@gmail.com> To: You <yourname@gmail.com> Date: March 31, 2025 Subject: so..?

this e-mail is being written right after my meeting with my company, but right before i text you lol. i'm going to schedule send this for the end of our contract so this is actually going to be a letter from seungkwan of the past 👻 don't be spooked! hehe

jokes set aside, i don't know what the next couple of months will look like. i understand why this is being done. you need the publicity for your drama... we have our cb... bla bla bla. it's all the usual stuff in this godforsaken industry

honestly, when i first got approached with the idea of faking a relationship for the group's benefit, i was 10000% ready to say no. but. i found out who it was going to be

and i just thought, like, okay. we already know each other. we're friends! and i guess i just wanted to make sure things would be easy for you, too. bc you deserve someone who will understand you, who will help you and be there for you through something hellish as this

so here's some promises i'll make you, even though you won't see them until much later lololol: i promise to be THE best fake boyfriend there is!!! i'll be cooperative, i'll play the part. i'll try to make sure this arrangement doesn't feel like work (even though it is), and when it's too much, we can run away to jeju for a weekend (just kidding) (or am i?)

by the time you get this, you'll know whether i got to do all that lol. make sure to hold me accountable ok!!! if i wasn't a good fake boyfriend, then show me this and i'll get you a meal, your choice. if i was a good fake boyfriend... well, that was the goal 🤞

i feel like this is already getting super long, so i'll end it now. i'm going to text you to see what you think of the arrangement. hopefully, you're fine with it, or else this would all just be a waste of writing lol. see you, fake girlfriend :)

forever yours, your bf-to-be seungkwan 🍊

p.s. this is the embarrassing part so i'm burying it in the very bottom 🤷 but i also hope that this whole thing will give me the courage to say what i really want to, which is something like

p.s.s. they didn't have to contract me to date you. i would've done it on my own accord. i would've done it for free.

p.s.s.s. i was ready to do all of it, only because it's you

[tmntngl]

The pining is REAL. Loved to read it from the outside view. The hurt and comfort in this one is great, too <3

Safe With Leo

bayverse leo x female reader

SFW, reader in peril off screen, injured reader, Leo pining like a TREE, new nickname acquired, reader is not coping well after violence.

(I think the backstory me and @fuckedupcleric decided to go with was reader got carjacked then Leo did his own carjacking to get her back, but it's up for reader interpretation)

“Where do you think you’re going?”

His voice was low and even, at odds with the way his hands were clenched tightly into fists at his sides. Your gaze lingered on where the right was freshly bandaged, the strips of linen tight, the smell of ointment heavy in the air surrounding him.

The hallway where Leo caught you skulking wasn’t very wide. His shell blocked most of the light from the arcade around the corner. You tried, and failed, not to shrink in on yourself, despite the little voice screaming at you that it was Leo, the one person you always felt safe with. Should always feel safe with.

“Can’t sleep.” You told him, finally, honestly, too tired and too jittery to be able to stand the beeping and sterile cleanliness of the needle room. Your voice was a croaky thing, raw from screaming and sobbing yourself hoarse. Your ears rang, where you had deafened yourself in the enclosed space. Your palms and feet were raw, bruised from the concrete and trying to scratch yourself free. Your arms stung underneath where you were gripping onto your biceps in an attempt to hold yourself together. You could feel the deep cuts littered there, even through the bandages underneath the soft sleep shirt covering you. Covering you, you reminded yourself.

Safe with Leo, you told yourself again.

He let out a slow, heavy breath, the kind you were used to hearing directed at Raph, or Mikey, when either was being particularly annoying. It twisted something deep inside your gut, soured the saliva in the back of your mouth. The feeling of being trapped settled back in your gut when he swayed to the side, creating a space for you to slip past him.

He followed you, like a hound shadowing your footsteps, raising the hair along the nape of your neck. You heard him huff, the noise quiet, before he dropped back another step.

His voice was soft, but firm, when you reached the atrium, “Turn left, head to my room.”

You stalled, foot catching on the cold floor, a wince pulling at your mouth before you could hide the pain, “But-”

Leo shook his head, closing his eyes to dismiss your protest, “There’s no way you’re going to sleep on that couch, blossom.”

Blossom.

That was a new nickname. Before tonight, he’d always used your name, formal and polite, or on the rare occasion, if you were being especially sassy, he’d drop ‘princess’ in a smooth and silky voice that never failed to shut you up in a way Raph couldn’t when he teased you.

Tonight, however, Leo hadn’t whispered your name when he’d scooped you out of the trunk of the car hours before. No, it’d been blossom he’d pressed against your bloodied hair, voice wrecked and shaking as he’d cradled you in his arms and bared his teeth at Donnie when his brother had tried to take you away. It had been blossom he’d cooed at you while holding you still so Donnie could bandage the cuts on your arms, back and legs while you cried.

It’d been blossom he’d whispered when everything had become too much and you’d curled up into a little ball, the last word you’d heard when Donnie had ushered everyone out of the needle room.

Hearing it now, your feet resumed automatically, not ready to press and ask questions, not liking the newfound uncertainty that surrounded your feelings where Leonardo was concerned. 

He shadowed you all the way to his room, his normal, soothing demeanor gone, feeling more like a caged animal at your back than the friend you had grown to know these past two years. 

You stalled just inside the door, taking in the neat and orderly room that you’d only seen in passing before. “I don’t… think I should be here.” 

It felt sacrilegious. A privilege you hadn’t earned. An insight to Leo that made your palms sweaty and itchy and your stomach feel like lead. You wanted to be here…

You feared it.

He was watching you with an unreadable expression when you turned. “Do you want to go back to the needle room?”

Needle Room. Just the name sent a shiver down your spine, goosebumps and chills breaking out as you recalled the phantom smell of rubbing alcohol and disinfectant.

“No,” you whispered, too tired to keep the petulant edge from your voice despite the fact you knew he hated it.

Leo sighed again, his shoulders moving with the motion, and you idly realized his hands had yet to move, or unclench, from the rigid way he kept them at his sides. “Then, you,” He tipped his beak towards you, then to a point across the room, “bed.” 

He waited, patient as the moon, for you to cross the room, silent as you pulled back the covers and slipped between the sheets. You weren’t sure what to make of the way his eyes lingered for a moment, or of the way tension seemed to bleed out from his frame.

“Get some sleep.” He offered, voice noticeably softer, closer to that rumble you remember from the nightmare of your rescue. “If you need me, I’ll be just down the hall.”

You watched, unblinking, as he turned and disappeared from the doorway, not even a scuff of his feet to announce his departure. 

Maybe you were dreaming, maybe it had been a fictitious Leonardo that had offered the one thing you’d dreamt of, the one thing that you were sure you’d never get to experience. The one wish you’d squashed and squeezed, hoping one day it would disappear completely.

You were in his space. You looked slowly around the room, taking in the little pieces of decor, and the way everything was set just so. It screamed Leo, down to the soft blue blankets you were curled up under. 

Safe. The room told you. Safe from prying eyes, from staticy emotion boiling off other’s bodies, from questions you weren’t in any state to answer.

Safe with Leo.

Your eyelids fluttered, tension bleeding out of your spine with every deep inhale, letting the stale scent of teakwood and jasmine on the sheets, the incense from across the room, the tea on the little table beside your head, swirl together, lulling you to sleep with the scent of Leo.

Safe with Leo.

[paperultra]

hammock.

Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Reader Word Count: 866 words Warnings: Kissing, slightly suggestive

“You’re blushing.”

“I am?” Sanji gazes up at you, dreamy and distracted. “I didn’t realize.”

You hum. You’re only vaguely aware of the hammock’s sway, of the blanket slipping down your shoulders as you prop yourself up and place your hands on his cheeks. Warmth soaks into your palms like sunlight, and you tilt your head, thumbs drawing over the flush on his cheekbones and tapping gently.

“Don’t say this is because of me,” you tease.

His hands reach up to cover yours. “Then I’d be lying,” he replies, turning his head to kiss your fingertips, “and I would never lie about how you make me feel.”

“Not even if you hated me?”

“The day I hate you is the day I should be tied to an anchor and fed to the sharks.”

“That’s awful.”

“I know.” His eyes search your face, and they narrow as he murmurs, “Who could ever hate someone as gorgeous as you?”

(Whoever coined the phrase “flattery will get you nowhere” has never met Sanji, you’re sure of it.)

Leaning down, you press your lips to his nose, to his forehead, to each cheek. A contented sigh brushes past your ears as you do so.

Eventually, you make your way to the source of his sweet words. You pause, and Sanji opens his eyes as you hover above his lips, just shy of meeting them with your own.

“Something wrong, sweetheart?”

“No,” you say. “Just wanted to see your pretty eyes before I kiss you senseless.”

He stills. Then he laughs, the sound blooming from deep within his chest and staining your world with gold. “Well – aren’t you a charmer,” Sanji quips, stroking your waist and pecking your cheek. His words are softer than usual. “Careful with my heart, now.”

“Don’t worry,” you say, and you kiss him fully, drinking in the way his grip on you tightens and the way his breath stalls in his throat when you speak against his mouth. “It’s in good hands, I think.”

The kiss is just as warm as his cheeks. You feel drunk as you pull away, and Sanji lifts his head to chase your lips, whispering your name with the reverence of a believer.

“You guys mind doing that somewhere other than here?”

The two of you freeze in each other’s embrace.

You jolt out of it and push yourself up, accidentally knocking the breath out of Sanji in the process. He wheezes and curls up as you lock eyes with a very unimpressed swordsman.

“Z-Zoro! We”—you scramble to unrumple your shirt, which had ridden up underneath the blanket—“I’m sorry, we – we thought everyone was going to be in the lounge for a while.”

“You thought wrong.” Zoro strides past and drops his laundry on the couch. “This isn’t your personal bedroom, Sanji.”

“I’m aware of that,” Sanji replies, annoyance dripping from every syllable. “Now would you mind just stepping out for a few more minutes?”

“Sanji, it’s fine,” you whisper, patting his chest. “The mood is kinda killed now, anyway.”

He visibly droops. “I know.”

“Good.”

“I wasn’t asking for your opinion, mosshead.”

The room fills with a completely different kind of tension as Zoro crosses his arms at Sanji’s response.

You, still trying to cover up your embarrassment, move to block Sanji’s view, pushing his bangs away from his face and attempting to smooth out his frown lines. His cheeks are still flushed, though the color is quickly fading back to normal as his attention turns back to you.

“C’mon, Zoro wants to fold his laundry. Let’s go up to the lounge and see what the others are up to.”

“Is that what you really want to do?”

“Yeah.” (It is now, anyway.)

“… All right, then,” Sanji acquiesces.

With that, you push the blanket off and clamber out of the hammock, nearly tripping and falling flat on your face in your haste to do so. Sanji follows close behind, and once he’s on his feet, you turn to Zoro and give him another quick apology before you and Sanji leave the men’s room.

“Of all the times to be interrupted,” your companion mutters as the two of you head to the lounge. He takes your hand in his and interlaces your fingers. “I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s nobody’s fault. Ships don’t have a lot of privacy …” You think back to the moment Zoro spoke up and groan, burying your face in your free hand. “I’m just embarrassed he caught us like that. I didn’t even hear him come down.”

“Me neither.” Sanji lets out an irritated sigh and then looks over at you; his displeasure softens. “At the very least, I’ll take it to mean you were enjoying yourself.”

Your face heats up. “Of course,” you say quickly. “I like our alone time."

“I like it too.” He squeezes your hand and leans over to whisper into your ear. “Next time, I could be on top, so I can hide you away if anyone walks in unannounced.”

“Wh – Sanji! Don’t say it like that!”

The man grins as you smack his arm playfully, planting a kiss to your temple as penance.

“Just evening the score, sweetheart.”

[zylusmusings]

sylus was his own protector, always has been. growing up in such a way has made him become a capable and dependable man. but at the same time, over time, it had naturally built a wall of defence around him. always on guard, always strong.

but it feels like sylus has ran out of his strength today. it's barely midnight (and that's practically morning for him) yet both his mind, body and soul are begging him for some rest. it's been an exhausting week full of deals and meetings (some successful, some not - the latter taking the bulk of the percentage). he was tired, disappointed and truth to be told, upset.

she senses something is wrong immediately when sylus wordlessly slips into bed next to her, immediately nuzzling her back against his own broad chest. there was no quip about her wearing the same sleep shirt two days in a row, nor was there a snicker about how her glasses were resting too low on the bridge of her nose as she scrolls through her phone. like clockwork, she presses herself even closer against him, his warmth immediately coaxing a contented sigh out of her.

she hears him sigh too, yet his was laced with some unsettledness, most definitely contrasting her blissful one. locking her phone, she shifts her neck a little to face him, a quiet yet simple question lingering in the air as she whispers, "you okay?"

he barely responds, a low hum all that he could muster. he was awfully quiet today, and she knew exactly what that meant. and he didn't have to explain further. she knew he felt a responsibility to constantly play the part of the fearless provider - he'd never share with her his own worries and troubles. ask him, and he'll agree. she was already burdened with so much of her own life events and bothers, many of those he oathed to carry off her shoulders. why would he let her learn even a glimpse of his troubles - why would he tarnish the reputation and image she has of him. he was her protector, her confidante, her rock - not her burden.

but she knows him better than he thinks she does. throughout the time she's known him, she's learned about his little quirks that to her, are a tell all. when a man full off snide comments suddenly falls silent, she knows it's a man in need of some love.

she hums back in response and a second later, she's turning in his arms to face him. she watches the wrinkle in between his forehead, signalling his deep in thought, stressed, despite his eyes shut. ever so gently, she presses a kiss to said crease before pressing one to his lips. "can i try something?" she asks.

his crimson orbs finally come into view, though very a limited one at that, as his eyelids open halfway. curious, he raises a brow. "try what, kitten?" he asks, bulky arm still draped across her waist. she meets his eye, and shoots him a small smile before using her hands to push his forearms off her. she then pushes his shoulders away, resulting a displeased grunt to escape his lips. "trust me." she reassures him.

his body molds against the movement of her hands, and soon enough, their positions were switched. sylus's brows are furrowed even deeper, his mouth gaping slightly at the very foreign position. (well, foreign to him.) "sweetie, what are you doing?" he grumbles out, body stiffening as he cranes his neck to meet her eyes.

like carrying a scared cat in your arms for the first time, she hushes gently into his ear, but holds him firmly. "just relax, sy." bewildered, sylus is still unable to settle in this new position. with a hand over his chest, she rubs the area soothingly. she decides not to make a comment about the rapidness she feels. "i just want to hold you like this tonight, my love." not exactly a lie, she truly does. but she knows she's doing it more for him, than she is for herself. and knowing sylus, he'd never admit that he'd need his girlfriend to baby and spoon him like this.

though not immediately, sylus slowly (and very slowly) relaxes, though the confusion on his face remains. he's confused indeed. confused as to why she wants to hold him this way. confused as to why this feels so nice.

sighing grumpily (he thinks) he eases his body into her and feeling him slowly but surely melt into her arms brings a smile to her face. she wonders if he can feel the smile playing on her lips as she presses a kisses to the back of his neck. her hand continues to rub his chest soothingly, and sylus swallows the lump that begun to form in his throat. this feeling was so foreign. to be held, to be comforted - he was sure he had never felt this way ever before. grappled with emotion that he tries to lock away, his large palm reaches back to hold onto the back of her thigh, squeezing it in silent gratitude.

so this is intimacy, he wonders to himself. it wasn't as though the fear and stress for tomorrow's troubles have dissipated completely, yet he knows that this was exactly what he needed to calm his racing mind. even if it was just for tonight. tomorrow, he'll take care of the matters. tonight, he's getting taken care of.

"i'll bring you shopping tomorrow, how about that, hm sweetie?" he suggests. it almost felt like he had to return the favour, taking care of big bad sylus - surely it came with a price right? it felt like this angel's kindness for him must be repaid. chuckling, she shakes her head, pressing another chaste kiss against the warm skin of his neck. "we don't have to, sy. how about we cook dinner together tomorrow, hm? you said you'd teach me how to make that pasta thing you made the other week."

"i'd like that, sweetie." he responds, fully relaxed now in the safety of his lover's arms. "i'll make sure to remind the twins to get the fire extinguisher ready this time." he chuckles, and while she'd usually smack his arm in annoyance, she simply smiles in response, grateful she senses that he's feeling a little better now that he has it in her to tease her.

"hmmm.. i'm going to put extra chillies in your food." she playfully threatens, but the squeeze her arms give around his body tells him that she loves him. and if it doesn't, she tells him anyway.

"go to sleep, sylus. we'll do tomorrow together when we wake up, okay?" she whispers quietly, pressing one last kiss against his shoulder. "i love you very much."

she hears him sigh once more, but this time it mirrors her contented one earlier. wordlessly, she grabs onto one of her hands, bringing it to his lips as he kisses her each one of he knuckles in thanks. "okay. i love you, kitten."

sylus thinks he is determined to change his sleep schedule if this is how safe falling asleep at midnight was going to be like.

[katsu2ji]

homesick — k. bakugou

a/n: to everyone going through a season of change, no matter how big or small, i love you :')

katsuki does a lot of stupidly annoying things sometimes, but one thing he will never, ever, do, is make fun of you for being homesick. he might joke around at first, but the moment he noticed you going silent and getting too lost in your own head, he makes a mental note to keep his mouth shut. he doesn't know what to say, so he doesn't say anything for fear of making things worse for you. he just lays down beside you, holding you up a bit and letting you cry as much as you need to. he doesn't care if you soak his shirt—it's you, for crying out loud. "it's just some damn fabric, it'll dry."

afterwards, he's doing everything he can to distract from the loneliness you may be feeling. he's grabbing a weighted blanket, arranging it so that most of the comfortable heaviness lays on you just right. he's getting you some water, making sure you get the rehydration you need so that you don't end up with a headache. "i don't wanna hear you complainin' later," he carefully teases with a small smile, glad to see you faintly return it. he's moving back into bed with you, resting comfortably at your side, a silent reminder that he's here. you're not alone like your mind is trying to convince you.

when he feels like the floor is open again, he's trying to bring back that smile. he's reminding you of all the good reasons for this change, the goals he knows you have and are capable of accomplishing. in his own katsuki-bakugou way he's trying to get you to focus on the positive side of things, something that you're usually doing to him. but he's willing to switch roles, because if there's one thing that makes him feel more helpless than anything else in this world, it's seeing the people he loves upset.

the feeling of homesickness can be hard, that he knows. it's a that feeling like your heart is squeezing in your chest and you can't stop it, and he's not gonna pretend like he hasn't felt it before. but at the end of the day,—and as cheesy as he knows it would sound coming out of his mouth—you've both got each other. he's not the biggest fan of change either, but he'd gladly go through a thousand different lives with you. he vows right then and there to make as much of a home for you as possible, whatever it looks like. he knows he can't make the uncomfortable feelings go away, but if he can loosen the painful tightening in your chest just a little, he'll do whatever it takes to see you smile again.

katsu2ji © 2024. please don't copy, modify, or do anything of the sort with my work! i work very hard and you simply do not have my permission.

[sylviareviar]

"(Good. I don't expect anything less,)" Jack said. "(Welp, I should probably go to sleep. Got sorta distracted with the urge to tease my baby sister. Sis, you'll still call this weekend, yeah? Talk to you then.)"

"(Oh, um, of course. Jack... are you sure everything's alright? It's not like you to call out of the blue like this.)"

On the other line, her brother hesitated. "(...yeah. I'm okay. Just wanted to hear your voice is all. I gotta go now. Can't interrupt your 'lesson,' can I? Also, Aaron, if you're single, call me.)" Before Sylvia could protest, the call ended.

"(Uggghhh! Oh, he just couldn't help himself, could he!)" Sylvia cried in frustration. "(Sorry about him. He loves teasing people and flirting with other guys... In particular, he loves to tease me. Because he knows it'll get a reaction.)"

She leaned back in her chair and flipped her phone face-down, pausing to stare at it with a worried frown.

"(Still... He seemed alright at the end, so I guess it's okay... He's a goof, but he's not without his own inner demons. I hope everything's alright at home.)" Then, more quietly, she wondered mostly to herself, "(Guess the nightmares still affect him even now...)" Not that she was too surprised, but it was one of those things that had faded over time. It'd been so long since the last time he had a nightmare that she'd almost forgotten it was still a problem.

Forgotten... yes, that's right. She's been forgetting many things lately. It's rather unlike her. Forgetting where she puts her belongings, forgetting addresses and names, phone numbers and room numbers... It was lucky her phone did a lot of the remembering for her.

"Anyway," she sighed, switching back to Japanese and pasting a joyous smile on her face. "We should be practicing, no?"

"(Nah, you're good.)" He interjected offhandedly. "(Today is mostly for review. The more serious stuff is next week.)"

He was a little taken aback by their banter, but after a moment it made him smile. He'd always wondered what it'd be like to have siblings, being an only child and all. So seeing this was kinda giving him a window into what that would be like.

It also coincidentally distracted him from putting too much thought into what she could've told him that would make her so embarrassed. Even his ignorant mind could've put together the pieces at that point... eventually, anyway-

"(Yeah-)" He replied, his tone having a hint of a laugh that he was trying to stuff down. "(-I'm still here. Whatcha got for me?)"

He was... somewhat surprised by the shift in tone. But also kinda touched as well. He could tell how much he genuinely cared for his sister, and wanted to do right by her.

"(I get what you're saying. Honestly, I can't imagine I'd do much different in your shoes-)"

"(I'll watch her back, Jack. You have my word.)"