#better just the afternoon than morning and afternoon

[amourquinn]

JERSEY ; quinn hughes ( drabble )

pairing : boyfriend!quinn x fem!reader wc. 535

genre : fluff no warnings

summary : you surprise quinn by wearing his oversized canucks jersey

it was a lazy sunday afternoon, and the gray skies over vancouver hinted at rain. you’d spent the morning lounging around quinn’s apartment while he’d been out for practice. with no plans for the rest of the day, you decided to surprise him with a little something.

while rifling through his closet earlier, you’d spotted one of his jerseys—a home blue #43, slightly oversized for you but undeniably cozy. on a whim, you slipped it on over your leggings. it smelled faintly like him—clean, crisp, and comforting.

you were in the kitchen when you heard the familiar click of the door unlocking. quinn stepped inside, wearing his tracksuit, his bag slung over one shoulder. he glanced up, his expression casual until his eyes landed on you.

for a second, he just stood there, frozen in the doorway. his gaze traveled over the jersey, lingering on the way it hung loosely on you, the sleeves a little too long for your arms. his lips parted slightly, as though he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

“hey,” you said, breaking the silence as you turned back to the counter, trying to act nonchalant. “you’re back earlier than i thought. i was just making coffee—want some?”

quinn didn’t respond right away. you turned around to find him still staring at you, his hockey bag now forgotten on the floor.

“you’re wearing my jersey,” he said finally, his voice quiet but warm.

you raised an eyebrow, giving him a teasing look. “what, am i not allowed to?”

he shook his head quickly, a smile breaking across his face. “no, no, it’s not that. it’s just…” he trailed off, scratching the back of his neck. “you look really good in it.”

you laughed, leaning against the counter as you folded your arms across your chest. “is that your way of saying you like it?”

“i love it,” he said without hesitation, taking a few steps closer. his smile was soft now, his eyes scanning your face before drifting back down to the jersey. “it’s kind of surreal, honestly.”

“what is?” you asked, tilting your head.

“seeing you like this,” he admitted, his voice a little quieter now. “it’s my name, my number… but it’s you wearing it. it just—” he stopped, clearly struggling to put his thoughts into words. “it feels good.”

you felt your cheeks flush at his honesty. “well,” you said, trying to lighten the mood, “it’s comfy, so i might have to steal it permanently.”

quinn laughed, reaching out to tug gently at the hem of the jersey. “you can keep it. i think it suits you better anyway.”

he stepped closer, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you into a warm hug. “seriously, though,” he murmured against your hair, “you look amazing.”

“thanks,” you said softly, resting your head against his chest. “i thought you might like it.”

“like it?” he repeated, leaning back just enough to look into your eyes. “i love it. and for the record, you’re never going to a game without wearing one of these again.”

you rolled your eyes, but his grin was infectious. “deal,” you said, laughing as he leaned down to kiss you.



© amourquinn

[keets-writing-corner]

k getting too long for the tags lets go

I use it too!It's so cute!

my favorite feature is when you visit your insights and it shows you every single day for the past whatever, there will be a color either red grey or green that reflect how your moods were during the day. it averages them out

you can also ask to break it down to ask to see morning moods or afternoon moods etc

I love this because of a couple reasons:

1. It's really useful for me to look back and go "oh yeah I really was going through a rough patch look at all this red!" or on the flip side I see way less red than I thought there'd be and there's a moment of "oh I still feel icky but I'm improving :)"

2. a really bad day will show up as bright red and sometimes when I cannot remember why I'm having such a bad time or why a rough patch came out of nowhere, I'll go and check out my insights map and lo and behold, turns out I got triggered on extra red day and that just spilled over (note: this is only helpful if you ALSO write stuff down about your day in the app)

3. it reveals your own patterns. when you're most likely to feel sad or happy. this is useful because it helps me manage my time better? if that makes sense? while there are always exceptions I pretty consistently HATE a specific time of day and am gerenally pretty chipper during another time of day. After I noticed this in the app, I realized that this also corresponded with my productivity. Now, I try to avoid doing tasks that I dislike or make me feel bad for whatever reason during the grumpy hours and try to move them towards the happy hours where they go from "OMG I HATE THIS OMG OMG" to "Not my favorite thing but I can do it"

But uhhh yeah! I really like the app! It also has soundscapes, a "first aid" kit that walks you through panic attacks or lets you vet or gives you calming techniques. You can start journeys that are supposed to encourage certain behaviors or things, like have more energy or fix your sleep. It will give you tasks that help you achieve that goal

it does a lot of things

So I started using a new self care app recently, and it has been helpful to me in a way none of the others have... because it gives me a little creature to take care of and nurture.

This is Berry! I got to name her, dress her, choose her colors and pronouns and everything, and she's my little birb that I am taking care of through this app. (My wife gifted me that green cane she's using. You can gift your friends cute shit if you want to.)

Nice things about the app that set it above other self-care apps:

Does not in any way punish you for not doing a task you set for yourself, there's only rewards for doing what you can and encouragement for keeping up a streak

You can set a task that is: daily, or on a certain day, or one-time but it stays around until you do it, or a combination of those. Unprecedented customizability in tasks in my experience with this kind of app.

You can send little notifs to your friends on the app. Mags and I regularly send each other hugs and such, but one of the options is a stretch break and they actually told me today that they needed that reminder!

Also there is a paid option, but I have had a trial period of having it and a period of not having it, and I do not feel disadvantaged for not having it. The only consequence of not having it is that I get less options in the random daily in-game store (which only uses the in-game currency, not real money), and I don't have access to some of their task "suggestions" (which I have found helpful, ftr, but they are not at all necessary).

Anyway. The app is called Finch, if you're interested in joining please send me a message so I can give you an invite and a bonus little pet for your friend (I joined without an invite so I don't even have a pet, I'm jealous). If you already have the app, my friend code is 3XRBAP9YSH, you're welcome to add me and send me your friend code, I'd love to send hugs to more people than just my wife!

[please-destroy]

You'd Like That

Elizabeth Olsen x Reader

Word Count: 1K

.

You’d thrown her off. You could tell. 

Lizzie’s smile was dimmed. She leaned her chin against her hand, watching you from the other side of the small party. Her forehead was furrowed, her finger touched her lower lip without her realising.

You looked down at your drink. It was all your fault.

.

You’d been close friends for years. For a long time, you’d floated around in the same social circles, never really saying more than a few words to each other. 

Then, there’d been a slightly too drunk get together organised by a mutual friend. 

That evening quickly became something unexpectedly perfect. You’d spent hours talking with her in someone else’s backyard, wrapped in old blankets that you’d found when she’d started shivering. You talked for hours about every subject, laughing more than you’d ever laughed with someone before. 

When you left that party in the early morning, you’d wondered if this was one of those magic nights. Or, if Lizzie might really become a friend. 

She called you the next afternoon and answered your question with her nonchalant greeting and conversation.

Her friendship quickly became the best part of your life. 

Life doesn’t follow the routes you expect. This was one of the good unexpected turns. 

Lizzie was not lowkey. That was a common misconception. 

You remembered the first time she called you from a Whole Foods. It had taken a ten minute ramble about grocery choices until you realised the subtle anxiety in her voice. The fear of making a mistake, the many ways it could manifest. 

She apologised after the call. A line of texts, where she made fun of herself. 

The world shifted on its axis and you saw Lizzie clearly then. 

‘Call me whenever, I’ll never mind.’ You’d replied simply.

Lizzie didn’t trust easily. That was true.

It’s how you knew you were special. It was so easy to find a rhythm with her, to live on the same wavelength.

Every year for her birthday, you spent the day together. Every year, you told her that you loved her. That she’d made your year better.

Lizzie would smile, roll her eyes and wrap you in a hug. 

You knew that you were special to her but you’d been careful not to jump to conclusions. 

Until, of course, you’d said something stupid. Something honest. And Lizzie had left. 

.

Now, at the party, as you refilled your drink and tried to ignore the loud music, you realised that you’d likely ruined everything.

The thought settled on your shoulders like a heavy weight, a ready nausea filling your throat. You left your untouched drink on a side-table. You craned your neck, scouting for Lizzie in the crowd.

You saw her dim silhouette on the small balcony and headed over. 

Her pale face turned towards you as you slid open the french doors. Lizzie was sitting on an ancient wicker chair that looked close to collapse. It creaked as she moved to face you.

‘We should talk.’ You suggested softly.

Lizzie’s long hair shifted over her shoulder as she nodded in agreement. Her fingers trailed the edge of the balcony railing. 

‘Did you always like me like that?’ She asked abruptly. ‘Is that why you started talking to me?’

Her cool tone made you nervous. You wondered if this was pointless, if everything had already unravelled.

‘No.’ You answered slowly, careful in your honesty. ‘Just a little bit more every day.’

Lizzie’s expression faltered. You could tell it wasn’t what she’d expected. She crossed her legs and you couldn’t help but notice her bare skin.

‘Since I got bigger movie deals?’ Lizzie asked, accusation barely hidden. 

A flash of hurt ran through you.

‘No.’ You tried to keep a level tone. ‘Since the day you called me at Whole Foods.’

Lizzie shook her head.

‘That doesn’t make sense.’ She said quietly.

You shrugged, staying silent as sadness rolled through you. This felt pointless, you’d already lost her. You’d already made the confession that you couldn’t undo. A wave of grief was burgeoning. You wondered if you’d drown. 

You slipped your arms out of your sweater and pulled it over your head.

‘Every year, I spend Valentine’s Day excited that your birthday is only two days away.’ You told her quietly. You handed her your sweater and nodded down to her bare legs, hoping she’d use it as a blanket. She always got cold on nights like these.

‘I’m sorry I fucked it up.’ You told her softly. Lizzie’s eyes reflected distant stars back at you. 

You walked back into the party with the distinct feeling that you were no longer yourself.

.

With no alcohol in you, you decided to leave and walk the few streets back to your place. The cold air countered the twisted grief burning up your insides.

You walked with a mind full of Lizzie. 

Valentine’s Day was tomorrow. You couldn’t care less, not anymore. 

You thought about her birthday in three days. You tried not to think about her smile, about how quickly a person can become a memory. You hoped Lizzie wouldn’t be alone for it.

.

You turned the corner of your street. 

Lizzie was stepping out of an Uber at your front door. She was wearing your sweater, her hair was caught beneath it. She straightened at the sight of you, raising her hand in a tentative wave.

You walked closer, heart in your mouth. Unfiltered surprise was running through your veins.

‘Why Whole Foods?’ Lizzie asked when you were in hearing distance. ‘Why did it start then?’

You laughed suddenly, at the most obvious unanswerable question in the world.

‘Why not?’ You countered. ‘It had to happen some time.’

Lizzie watched you like you were something brand new. A silence fell between you before she spoke again.

‘Valentine’s Day is tomorrow.’ Lizzie told you seriously, fingers playing with the sleeves of your sweater. ‘We have nothing planned, and I actually had other plans. Not with anyone, not anything like that. But, I’d still have to cancel them. And I had errands to run in the afternoon.’

You recognised the familiar tone of Lizzie’s anxiety. You realised suddenly that she was just scared. 

You took her hand, twining your fingers and giving a quick squeeze.

‘We could just get groceries.’ You suggested with a soft smile.

Lizzie let out a shaky breath, her lips quirked upwards. She squeezed your hand back.

‘Yeah.’ She teased. ‘You’d like that.’

[nerdygirlramblings]

really want to write more about Oz, but the omegaverse worms keep entering my brain

cw: attempted accents

previous

Price clocked your reactions this afternoon. He isn't stupid. He knows that being a woman, and an omega in particular, puts a target on your back. The prejudice against both your primary and secondary genders means you need to be so much better than your peers, and you are. You are outstanding in your field. Extraordinary. He's not surprised some other task force hasn't snatched you up before now.

Thankfully, he got you to agree to dinner with the team, so he has help in convincing you to join them as a teammate. And once you're on the team, they can work on convincing you to join the pack.

Two hours after you left his office, and with your parents' words ringing in your ears, you're in the mess, waiting alone at a table in the back. You're usually in the mess alone but try not to linger long. An unclaimed omega alone around so many alphas is practically asking for trouble. Just as you start worrying about Captain Price and the others, he walks in flanked by the largest man you've ever seen in your entire life, his face hidden by a mask with a painted skull on it. Price is big, but the man next to him is taller and almost twice as wide.

Price is looking around the room, but the masked man leans towards Price and points in your direction. When he sees you, Price breaks into a grin and starts heading your way. As he and the large man in the mask approach, you're able to see two smaller - in comparison - men behind them, moving with a purpose that lets you know this is the full 141. Besides Price and the mountain, there's a stocky white man with a mohawk and a beautiful, lithe black man.

When they all stand in front of you, you can smell Price's autumnal scent along with another alpha whose scent is layered in something sharp, like ginger, onion, and garlic. It's a smell you associate with Mum's cooking, but you know many find it off-putting. There's a scent of saplings or fresh snapped greenery mixed with the mellow smell of a warm day: a spring scent coated in beta. The last is another beta, but this scent is crisp and brine, the ocean made flesh. You wonder whose scent is whose.

Price steps forward, offering you his wrist, his scent, again. As you take it and bring it closer to your face, he smiles and says, "Glad ya came." You dip your head in a slight nod and drop his hand, and he takes the seat across from you. He introduces the rest of the pack task force in turn, each man politely offering their wrist before sitting down. You recognize the informal scenting ritual common when joining new groups. You did the same with your squad when you first came to base.

Leftenant Simon "Ghost" Riley is the other alpha. He is sat next to Price. Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish smells like the ocean, and Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick is spring. With your permission, the sergeants are sat on either side of you.

"I wan'ed ya ta be able to put faces to the 141 before ya made yer decision," Price tells you. "This way if ya wan'ed ta see what are trainin' looks like or ask about anything, ya'd know who ta ask." Then he surprises you when he suggests you go with the sergeants, the betas, to grab trays for everyone.

"Gaz and Soap know wha' we like," he says, pointing between him and Ghost. "They can get ours while we hold the fort." He must read the confusion on your face, but he only smiles in response. This was not the behavior of an alpha trying to prove his worth to an omega. This was a Captain letting you converse with members of the task force equal to you in rank without superior officers around.

As you make your way to the food, you see Soap eyeing you. You look back a few times, clearly puzzled and a little off balance, until Gaz finally elbows him and says, "Either spit it out, mate, or stop gawkin'."

Soap grins almost manically. "Aye seen ye running th'other morn. Yoor form neyver waivered. Was a sight," he sighs. You remember someone complementing your form after a run about a week back.

"Oh, tha' was you? You were quick!"

"Nae as quick as yoo, lass. I saw yoo pass the barracks foor times. An' aye could tell yoo'd been runnin' a fair bit befoor aye saw ye. Aye cannae run tha' consistently." He doesn't miss the way you blush as his compliment.

You stand in line behind Soap with Gaz at your back. They aren't alphas, but it's hard to miss how their presence calms you, and that's without them projecting their scents for you. Simply knowing you aren't here alone, that people are here who have your back, is enough.

next

[chibinasuu]

Sanji x Reader ― snowstorm; cuddling

part of the cozy holidays event

🎁 ― anonymous tags: sfw, fluff, GN!Reader, no use of y/n, the straw hats are cock blocks

Lazy arms wrapped around Sanji’s waist from behind, and the corner of his mouth turned up when a tiny kiss landed on his suit-covered shoulder.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” said Sanji, turning his face to place his lips gently on the top of your head, “Did you sleep well?”

“Mm-hmm,” you nodded, “Would’ve been better if you were sleeping next to me, though.”

“Sorry, darling.” He chuckled and added half-jokingly, “Should I beg Franky to build us a private suite?”

You scoffed amusedly, continuing to watch him as he placed an onigiri on a platter, lining it up with the others that were already neatly arranged there. 

The reddish rays of the rising sun had seeped in through the kitchen windows, coating the space in a warm glow and bringing a subtle comfort to your skin amid the low temperature. 

The Thousand Sunny had entered a winter island’s climate, according to Nami, which had the Straw Hats scrambling to bust out their thick coats and sweaters from the depths of their drawers. Chopper was especially stoked by the news, thrilled to be feeling some cold air upon his thick fur.

Sanji dipped his hand into a bowl of water, then grabbed some salt and rubbed it all over his palms. He took some rice, put a generous pinch of salmon flakes in the middle, then started expertly molding it into a triangle, rotating it a few times and squeezing it gently to give it that perfect, firm shape. 

Watching Sanji in the kitchen was like viewing a performance art. You could never get tired of the way his fingers moved – so precise and delicate – and the way his lips were always fixed in a faint smile. 

It never failed to warm your heart – watching someone you loved doing something he loved. 

“Those look delicious, Sanji.” 

“Why, thank you, dear. Care to taste-test for me?”

You shook your head, “I already know they’d taste perfect. I’ll wait to eat them with everyone at breakfast.”

You unwound your arms from his waist, your fingers lingering for a moment before reluctantly letting go to start setting up the dining table. 

Sanji stopped you with a hum, puckering up his lips in a blatant request for a kiss before you left his side.  

A small laugh escaped you as you reached up to cup his cheek, leaning in to grant his wish. You gave him a small peck, but Sanji let out a whine of protest and chased your lips, stealing a proper, longer kiss.

His hands itched to go around you, but alas, they were still coated with the sticky residue of rice and salt.

You tilted your head, seeking to deepen the kiss, when suddenly,

“Sanji!” Your Captain’s voice reached the kitchen before he did, “Is breakfast ready yet?”

Sanji sighed, giving you one last peck right as Luffy came barging in, “Let’s continue this later, shall we?”

“Later” ended up being all the way until the sunset.

The cook has always been the busiest among the Straw Hats, with barely any downtime in his schedule. After breakfast was lunch prep, then came the afternoon snack, then on to dinner.

You loved to accompany Sanji while he cooked, just chatting, doing your own things quietly, or occasionally lending a helping hand, but the kitchen was not exactly the best place to get some alone time.

It seemed that every few minutes, a different crewmate would come sauntering in, looking for a drink or a snack, seeking refuge from the cold, or simply wanting to spend some time with you and Sanji.

You loved your crewmates to pieces, but sometimes, you wished you could get more than just a few stolen moments with your lover.

One of the rare breaks the cook had was the narrow window between afternoon tea and dinner. 

The meat was marinating in the fridge, the pizza dough was on its final proof, and Sanji was leisurely trailing kisses down your neck. 

You and Sanji loved spending this quiet time at the aquarium bar, sipping on one of his delicious mocktails – or cocktails, depending on your moods – while enjoying some much-needed privacy. 

His slender fingers deftly undid the top two buttons of your shirt, giving him access to mouth your collarbone languidly. 

Your back was flush with the velvet couch, and you sighed as you played with the golden strands of his hair. 

Soft jazz music flowed from the Tone Dial sat at the bar top. The dim room, lit only by the blue glow of the aquarium lights, emboldened Sanji to dip his hand underneath your shirt, the fabric trailing up and exposing your skin as his fingers crept higher and higher…

Bang!

The door being slammed open made you both jump, drawing your sights to the intruder.  

“Oi, Mosshead!” Sanji shouted as he shielded your figure, his hands frantically fixing your shirt, “Don’t you know how to knock?!”

“It's common space, Stupid Love Cook!” Zoro yelled back, “I don’t need to knock to enter a public area in my own ship, do I?” 

Sanji scowled, not wanting to admit that the moss-for-brains was right, “What do you want?”

“I’m looking for some sake.” 

The blond man sighed, disentangled himself from you, and walked to the liquor cabinet. He took out a bottle of cheap sake – not that Zoro would complain – and threw it to the swordsman. 

“Now, piss off.”

“Gladly,” Zoro smirked, popping the bottle open and taking a swig before sauntering out the door, “Try a room with a lock next time!”

You still couldn’t quite meet Zoro’s eyes without your cheeks heating up, but otherwise, dinner was your typical, everyday affair – full of chatter and laughter, and occasionally some indignant shouts as rubber hands shot out to steal from unattended plates.

“Ah, right,” Nami began, swallowing her bite of grilled prawn before continuing, “A snowstorm’s coming tonight. It’s gonna be a big one.”

“Uh-oh, who’s on night watch?” Usopp asked.

You raised your finger, “I’m on the first shift.”

Sanji similarly raised a hand, “I’m on second.” 

The navigator frowned, “It might be hard to change shifts tonight – too dangerous to climb up and down the crow’s nest during the storm.”

“I’ll take the whole night, no problem.” Sanji volunteered. 

He always ended up staying awake the whole night anyway whenever the two of you had back-to-back shifts, choosing to sacrifice his rest for a few more hours alone with you. 

“You just rest tonight, dear,” he said, smiling sweetly at you.

He rose from the table and stretched his arms, “I’ll prepare something for breakfast in case I get stuck up there till morning.”

Before long, the fridge was stocked with cold tuna sandwiches, overnight oats with a side of crunchy granola, slices of fruit, cheese, and cured meats. The cook also made sure to leave the boxes of each member's favorite cereal on the counter.

After he freshened up and took his nightly shower, Sanji changed into some comfortable pajamas and went up to the crow’s nest to begin his watch.

He had barely settled down when he heard a knock on the metal hatch on the floor. 

He opened it to reveal your smiling face, your hair sprinkled with powder of snow.

“Sweetheart? What are you doing here?” 

“I’m here for my night shift, of course.” 

“Didn’t you hear what Nami said? A snowstorm’s coming!” His brows furrowed, “You won’t be able to go back to your room once it picks up.”

“Whoops, too bad.” You shrugged, grinning playfully as you climbed fully into the crow’s nest and closed the hatch, “Guess I’m stuck here with you until morning.” 

“And if we can’t leave…” You waggled your eyebrows suggestively at him, “Then nobody could get up here either.”

Sanji’s eyes widened, a blush rising to his cheeks once he caught on to your cunning ploy. 

His laughter that followed – a mixture of joy, shyness, and excitement – was as sweet as honey. 

“Well, come here, then.” He opened his arms wide, “Better make good use of this time.”

You pushed him gently to the floor and straddled his lap, then crossed your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, clinging to him like a koala.

Sanji sighed blissfully at the feeling of your body against his, his arms circling you to pull you in even closer.

The raging wind and snow grew increasingly stronger, making the windows rattle furiously amid the otherwise quiet room. 

You buried your hand in Sanji’s hair, relishing the way the soft threads enveloped your fingers.

Sanji’s digits ghosted back and forth on the straight line of your spine, causing goosebumps to appear all over your skin.

You both stayed like that for a while – eyes closed, hands roaming lazily, bodies pressed together.

“I love you.” Sanji suddenly said, the three little words always succeeding in making your heart skip a beat, no matter how often he said it.

“I know.” You kissed his cheek, “And I love you, Sanji. Always.”

Tears pricked Sanji’s eyes as he hugged you tighter, burying his face into your neck.

How undeserving he was of your love. 

When he first confessed to you, he could hardly believe that you could possibly return his feelings, but thankfully, you reminded him that you did every single day.

You two ended up sprawled on the floor, limbs entangled, with your head upon his steadily – but rather rapidly – beating chest.

Not for the first time, you found yourself looking forward to the day when you could fall asleep against him every night and wake up in his arms every morning.

The muted howls of the winds and the warmth of Sanji’s embrace made your eyes grow heavier and heavier. 

Sanji stayed awake – he was technically still on night watch, after all. He flared his observation haki outward every now and then, though he doubted anyone or anything could attack them in the middle of this snowstorm.

He smiled to himself when you snuggled closer to him, unconsciously seeking his warmth. 

As he stroked your hair and admired your peacefully dreaming face, selfishly, he thought,

He didn’t want this storm to be over just yet.

a/n: soft sanji is my kryptonite

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[illdiealonelyguy]

Apartment Story (Spencer Reid x BAU!reader)

We'll stay inside till somebody finds us, do what ever the tv tells us, stay inside our rosy minded fuzz.

My first time writing something like this, and i'm sure its not very good and there's room for sooooo much improvement, but i hope you enjoy nonetheless!

Summary: You've reached the groggy, grey winter months where nothing much usually happens, but this year is a little different. This year, you have Spencer Reid by your side. To combat the post-christmas blues and make some use of the last remaining weeks before you both head back to your desks at the BAU, Spencer attempts to find solutions for you both to remain as calm and content as you possibly can.

Tags: Spencer Reid x BAU!reader, fluff.

Word Count: roughly 789

You were roused by the sound of shuffling sheets beside you,and a temporary loss of warmth, before an arm reached itself under your side of the bedsheets to the small of your back. Eyes still heavy and closed, you nuzzled back towards the main source of heat - your own personal central heating system: Dr. Spencer Reid. Gently, you opened your eyes, head still resting against his chest, and peered up to be welcomed by his adoring smile.

"Good morning," Spencer whispered as he kissed the top of your head.

"Morning," you croaked, still squashed against his body, your breath against his neck making him giggle.

You open your eyes wider, this time gauging an impression of today's weather: grey and wet. just like everyday since the start of November, it seemed. This specific state of the weather was sure to weigh heavy on your heart until the end of March, when things would start to brighten up and look more alive.

"Hey, what's gotten you looking so somber?" Spencer inquired while turning your head towards him with his hand on your cheek.

"The weather! i just feel so trapped in such a monotone season. Eveything looks like it's been stripped of life," you lament into his caring eyes, a hint of worry working it's way into them. "You make me feel better, though. I remember once telling you that i think i chase the sun. It makes me feel far more alive and productive and full of ideas. Anyway, i came to the conclusion that you are my sun. Just being around you is enough to, for a while, help me forget about how much the winter months tend to weigh on me. So, thank you for that." You smile up at him while a faint flush settles over his cheeks, clearly bashful at such a - as he would put it - poetic metaphor.

"You're thanking me for being myself?" he chuckles.

"I suppose i am," you affirmed, leaning in to kiss him. He replied with a hum as he kissed you back, contentedly.

---------------------------------

You both spent your morning cuddling, reading and drinking tea (well, coffee for Spencer) and after the afternoon hit it's peak, the daylight seemed to be sucked away too fast for your liking.

Returning from the kitchen with two cups of tea occupying both of his hands (Spencer's new year resolution to only drink coffee in the mornings for a better night's sleep seemed to be going well, you thought) Spencer padded towards you in his fuzzy-sock clad feet, sitting beside you on the sofa and turning to you, thoughtfully.

"I think we should buy you a SAD lamp. Oh, and also stock up on puzzles, sudoku books, crosswords and other activities which will stimulate both of our brains. Well, I of course tend to these activities more than you- there's nothing wrong with that by the way! You enjoy more creative hobbies and i logical ones, but we could build puzzles together as i'm very, very bad at creative activities. Oh! I could also run to the pharmacy and get some vitamin c tablets. They'll be good for us to take in the winter," Spencer offers in a breathless frenzy.

You chuckle at his despiration "Are you still thinking about what i said earlier? Spencer, it's common to feel slightly more down in the winter months, i don't want you worrying about me too much!" you reply with a comforting smile, reaching out to take his hand in yours, squeezing it a few times as if to physically transmit your words into him.

"I know, i know. I just care about you so much and i'de hate for you to feel the weight of the shorter days wearing you down. I feel less motivated this time of year, too. But - not to steal your beautiful metaphor here - i think you might me my sun, too. Sunlight increases the production of sterotonin which helps improve mood and promote feelings of happiness, and spending time in the sunlight can reduce levels of cortisol in the body. You have the same affect on me."

"The science in your metaphor made that sound far more romantic," you giggle as you consider his words, Spencer gazing at you lovingly. "I think we will survive, love. We've got eachother, and our books, and yes if you like you can buy a bunch of brain stimulating puzzles," Spencer gazes downward shyly at your words.

"I think we've got an arsenal of things within ourselves to battle the winter blues away. Especially eachother." You end with, softly.

Leaning towards you, Spencer takes you in his arms. "I think you might be right." He mutters into the soft material of your shirt, holding you tightly.

[breakyourrxles]

❥between two breaths (m) | 𝟙𝟘

𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡

↳ You become comfortable... and suppose you always knew that it would eventually lead to your breaking point.

kim sunwoo x fem!reader (side lee juyeon x reader) — idol!sunwoo, fan/trainee!reader. forced proximity, forbidden love, friends to lovers, angst, slow burn, idolverse-typical themes regarding; dating, image, public perception, etc. happy ending, plot-heavy!! reader thinks she's nonchalant about it but she rly isn't. smut. [6,5k wc ongoing] cws: heavy themes of wanting-but-can't-having, mild jealousy, explicit sexual content, a little alcohol consumption, dancing on the edge of career suicide, poor decision making because of The Wanting.

❥ masterlist | ao3

Eric's voice drops to just above a whisper and he says, "It's gotta be pretty obvious by now, right? Everything? I can promise you he isn't just handing out his personal information to any pretty girl at a fansign."

Weekends are long with music show promotions and additional schedules fitted into all of the potential breathing spots. Days feel as though they never truly end with the next starting shortly after and with next to no time in between. You're tired, you're overworked, but this is the life that you knew you were signing up for.

You are given a Monday. A single Monday morning where you are gifted by chance the opportunity to not have a schedule. Sleep feels as though it is an impossibility to ever truly catch up on, and your body is so used to waking at the early, dark hours of the night that even with nothing to do, rest can no longer find you.

Thus, you shoot off a text. A hope for companionship that carries no expectations along with it. 

"Good morning, I've already got you a coffee. Looks like you could use it."

Juyeon's thoughtfulness is something you have grown only somewhat accustomed to, because he is inclined to think of things long before you have had the chance to. He smiles at you gently from his seat at the small table and the aroma of freshly roasted coffee beans and blooming pastries from the back of the building fills the room with otherwise quiet welcoming.

You sit down across from him and immediately drop your forehead to the table.

"That bad, huh?"

Groaning, you only barely lift yourself to grant him your attention. "I feel like I've been awake for a week straight."

"Yeah, that's not uncommon. There's more where that came from." Pushing the mug towards you, it lightly bumps your hand. "Drink up, I'm sure you've got stuff to do in the afternoon, too."

"Of course I do. There's always something."

Through idle conversation you discover that The Boyz are slated for a comeback in the not so distant future. It will be their first since MVNE's debut, and you're interested to watch the inner workings of a group you have followed as a fan for so long from the inside, rather than out. Maybe you can learn something from all of this; develop better time management, figure out a way to not feel as though all of your strength is being sucked out of your body each and every day.

Unfortunately, the expectations of a rookie group and that of a far more established one are different, and this is something that you know all too well already.

Eventually, Juyeon finishes his drink and shoves the empty mug off to the side. His elbow comes up to sit atop the polished wood of the table and his chin sits just inside of his palm. He looks at you with a sort of amused adoration that you've never quite seen from him, though you have seen it before.

"It's nice that we can meet like this," he says.

Something inside of your chest flutters ever so slightly, and that is wholly unexpected. You feel the same, because this is the closest thing you have to anything resembling what's left of your real and normal life.

It's so much easier to carve out normalcy with Juyeon than it is to do so with Sunwoo, a fact that is terribly unfair to either of you, but a fact nonetheless.

And Sunwoo is not the only person not currently present that springs to mind.

Nervously shifting in your seat, you chuckle under your breath and say, "Well, as it would turn out, there are other people who wouldn't mind having this opportunity to sit here with you."

Juyeon's eyes widen just for a second, seemingly surprised by the news.

"Is that so?"

"My member Nara," you begin, "Turns out she has taken quite a fancy to you." Neither of you say anything for a few long moments after that, and though you are somewhat expecting a response from him, nothing ever comes. So, you prompt him further by saying, "She's pretty, talented; has a strong personality that I actually think would match you quite well. What do you think?"

Giving something of a half-smirk, Juyeon sits back in his chair and slumps down just a bit. He crosses his arms over himself and looks up towards the ceiling as if he is mulling the information over in his mind thoroughly before ever offering up a response. While he does so, you simply watch and wait.

Finally, he sighs and says, "I can't say I'm really looking to get involved with anyone right now." His attention is still up and away; thoughtful and rife with consideration. "I'm sure she's lovely, and I certainly have noticed her on the stage, it's just…"

Juyeon trails off, and finally, his gaze falls back down squarely to you.

"It's not easy doing this. Meeting someone, getting to know them, navigating everything that comes before establishing whether or not we're a good fit for one another. It's a lot of work in the best of circumstances—when there's just two normal, curious people with an inkling of interest—much less given all of these added hurdles."

Leaning forward and fitting his chin into his palm once more, he smiles at you and says, "I'm afraid I'm just not up to the task right now, and particularly not with someone that I've not already traversed those hurdles with. I prefer it when it's easy, when it's natural." A contented sigh follows, and finally his smothering attention towards you breaks in favor of the croissant sitting on the plate between you. "I like to let things happen, and it'll all fall into place like it's meant to."

The spell you'd been inadvertently locked into breaks, and you're not sure you've taken a single breath while Juyeon's sights have been set on you.

When the music cuts off, you know what's waiting for you on the other side of it.

For now, the room is filled with damp, heavy air and the rhythmic sounds of heavy breathing. You slump down to rest your hands against your knees—it's been two hours of nonstop dance practice and going over certain routines—and to say you're tired is an incredible understatement.

You've not spent much time with Woori in the last few weeks, since right before and leading through your comeback promotions. Not alone, at least. All of MVNE are racking up a dense list of personal schedules, not to mention full group engagements, and personal time spent with the members dwindles throughout the days; right before your very eyes.

Before you've really noticed, it's all just sort of gone.

But Woori has asked you to be here with her today during some of the few hours that the both of you have managed to carve out simultaneously. She could be spending this time doing anything else; resting, relaxing, tending to the relationships outside of her career that, like everyone else's, have surely suffered.

Instead, she is here with you.

A loud sigh is exhaled from behind you, followed by the crinkling of a roughly-handled water bottle soon to be consumed. You glance back ever so slightly, but before you are fully able to turn a hand is extended with a bottle intended for you.

Accepting it, you stand fully, and for what feels like the first time since this excursion has begun, both of your attention is fully resting on the other.

"I need to ask you this, because it's my job," Woori says. There is little combativeness in her tone despite what the words themselves might suggest, and rather, the air of it all gives a sense of anticipation. Anticipation towards something else, perhaps something more akin to disappointment. "Realistically, I've accepted a long time ago that I am not your mother, nor do I want to take on that role in the group. Still…"

Your eyes remain fixed on her through a bout of momentary silence until she finally continues on to say, "You and Sunwoo."

Though your stomach drops, you do your best to mask it. Instead, your features twist into evident confusion. "What about us?"

"That's what I'm asking you. It's going to be easier for everyone going forward if I know about things that I can get ahead of."

You wonder if she knows. If somehow, word has traveled through the pipeline of onlookers living at an apartment complex where you definitely shouldn't have been. Being set up to lie is far from an ideal circumstance, and if Woori knows about your escapades either following Idol Radio or showing up to Sunwoo's shared accommodation, you'd prefer her to just come out with it.

The irony of desire for a truthfulness that you, yourself, are unwilling to give is not lost on you.

Taking a long sip of water, your eyes fall away from her in correlation with what you can only assume to be guilt. 

"Nothing is going on," you lie. "If anything, I see Juyeon these days more often than I see him."

"Is that because he's busy, or something else?"

"Sunwoo is my friend, I shouldn't be demonized for wanting to see him. I understand that the circumstances are the way they are but there are other people inside of our very own group who are hoping to plant the seeds of express interest, yet all of the concern seems to be set on me."

Woori's eyes narrow in a kind of way that alludes to her not being aware of the thing that you are calling attention to. Good, you think, because deflection was precisely the plan.

"Put a pin in that other thing for a second," she says, exhaling a deeply perturbed sigh, "but you know the stakes are incredibly high in your situation specifically. Even just with his little stint on Idol Radio the reception was not all that positive, and that's just from him vaguely bringing the fact up. What do you think is going to happen if it were to ever come out as there being fire behind the smoke?"

"I know that. Nobody knows that better than I do."

"Lines have already been crossed," Woori warns, "I've seen it with my very own eyes, and who's to say what else I haven't seen?" She sighs again, allows a second of silence to pass between you and then says, "Miyoung said you weren't home the other night with the rest of them."

"What are you suggesting?"

"I'm not suggesting anything, you're going to tell me, and then we're going to drop the subject for now. I don't enjoy rehashing this any more than you do."

More water, because it buys you some time. You drink it down and think through your options as far as this line of questioning is concerned. You're not going to tell her—you can't tell her that you went to his dorm—but at this point you have also lost the ardent will to defend yourself to any believable length. If it is always going to be like this, if you are always going to be on the receiving end of doubt; then why bother making such an effort to be especially believable?

Until something definitive is seen, then nothing you or Sunwoo do really, actually matters.

"I went for a walk. We don't get out much these days."

Woori merely stares at you. Her expression is fairly unchanged, and though there is little present to work from, what you most certainly find hanging there is doubt.

She sucks her teeth loudly and as if never having heard your response at all she says, "And what's this about the other thing then?"

"Oh, Nara's sudden budding intrigue in Juyeon, you mean?" You huff out a disbelieving laugh under your breath. "Seems like you've got your work cut out for you, leader."

"That's… Unpleasant," is all she says for a good few moments after the fact, as if giving herself time to navigate through her own thoughts on the matter. "But I don't need to tell you it's not the same thing."

Already having made your way to your disheveled bag and gathering your belongings, you shrug.

"Yes, I believe we've been over that more than a handful of times."

"I'll deal with Nara, but at the end of the day I don't have control over what she decides to do," Woori reasons. "Just like I don't ultimately have control over what you decide to do, either. In a perfect world and if things were up to me, we'd be at least—oh, I don't know—two or three years into our careers before I have to deal with an absolute avalanche of dating scandals?"

You look back at her from over your shoulder, and though you don't immediately reply, the face you give is loud with seriously?

"Juyeon isn't interested," you say. "So, I don't think you have to worry too much about that."

Woori hums. "I'm not so sure this is putting my concerns to rest," she says, eyes narrow and distrusting after having been presented with new information. Perhaps, more information than you had ever intended on giving. "If anything, it may be introducing more."

"First you're upset about the possibility of a relationship forming, now you're upset that it won't be?" you question. "Some leaders can never be pleased, I suppose."

"My qualms definitely aren't with his alleged disinterest in her."

You stand, slinging your bag over your shoulder and heading towards the door with Woori alongside. There's little more than a split second that goes by where the two of you meet eyes, and through that exchange alone, you already come to an understanding of everything she is concerned by.

Whether or not it's for good reason, remains yet to be seen.

"It's why," she says. 

Enthralled with the conversation you are engaged with, you don't even notice the nearing doom that is soon to descend upon your table at the company cafe.

A plastic tray drops down with a loud thud, all three of you start as a result of it. You, Serri and Kaia all immediately look up with disgusted expressions to discover the culprit of your interrupted good time.

To say you're not expecting it would be an understatement.

"Hi."

Eric stands there beside your table with his arms limply by his side, but there is nothing casual about his face. Instead, there's a hint of a smile that you absolutely do not like the look of, and naturally; his attention has fallen fully to you.

Serri's eyes drift from him and back to you. She says, "Do you know him?"

"Sort of," you answer. "I mean, in a kind of colloquial sense." Still facing Eric, you then choose to address him going forward. "Can we help you?"

"No. Well, sort of. I want to talk to you."

Not ideal.

There are few things on the docket of potential discussion points that might ever lead Eric to needing to talk to you, and in fact, there's really only one. One topic that you do not need brought up in the company of other people, and you would even go as far as to say should make rather obvious reasoning for not approaching you in that very same company, at all.

But, here he is. Not exactly gentle in his delivery, either.

Looking back to both of the girls for a second, you look to him again and say, "Okay, but I'm with my members, so—"

And just as quickly, both Serri and Kaia are gathering their things and seemingly moving towards making their fastest possible exit from the scene.

"No thank you," Serri says. "Whatever this is, I can assure you I don't want any part of it."

Kaia smiles, bows to him, and with swift agreement says, "Great seeing you, she's all yours!"

Just like that, they're gone.

Eric wastes no time plopping himself down into one of the just emptied seats, and pressing himself nearly halfway across the table—that still lingering, shit-eating grin ever present—he says, "Sunwoo."

You blink through silence a few times. "What about him?"

"You tell me! I heard about your little stint not that long ago, word travels fast through the dorms as I'm sure you could have anticipated. Changmin was very amused."

"Happy to provide some… amusement, I guess." You try your best not to let your discomfort in relation to the topic show, but sit wholly unaware of how good of a job you are actually doing. "I wanted to visit my friend, he's been busy lately. I'm sure you've noticed."

Waving a dismissive hand in the air, Eric rolls his eyes. "Sure, sure. Whatever. Do you really think I'm going to believe that? He told me how he showed up to yours that one time and you nearly tossed him over the side of the balcony railing, now all of a sudden you're showing up and I'm just expected to believe it's no big deal? Just felt like popping in for a visit? No big deal?"

He's annoying, but he is quite adept at doing fairly simple math.

Still, Eric probably means well but you can't let him in. As of now, comeback preparations for his group have begun ramping up, and with the years they have under their belt it results in longer days and much busier schedules than anything MVNE could even really begin to fathom yet. From one day to the next it feels like Sunwoo went from being almost obnoxiously underfoot to hardly ever heard from. Shows, practice, recordings and filming. If not one thing, there is always another waiting just around the bend.

As a result, communication with him has slowed nearly to a halt. Now, it is you who waits in the wings for a reply to a message that may not ever actually come. Humiliatingly humbling.

You spend a good portion of your days trying not to care.

Unfortunately, a byproduct of this is not entirely knowing where it is that the two of you stand. Sunwoo had been clear in the past; forthcoming and honest with his heart on his sleeve like he often does, and though your circumstances together had seemed to be headed in an evident direction then, the lack of communication has you wondering if at some point, unrealized by you, the path had diverted.

Maybe he is simply too busy to embark on that journey, and maybe a looming comeback and highly successful career is serving as something of a reminder of that fact.

Eric is still watching you.

"I guess I'm testing the limits of what I can reasonably get away with," you say, and it's not a complete lie. "I'm beginning to catch onto the fact that I take all of this just a little bit more seriously than everyone else does."

Jolting back, as if physically hit by the words you have just spoken, Eric's face twists like he can't believe what he's hearing, like it's the most absurd thing he has ever heard.

"You can't really believe that, right? That nobody else is taking their career seriously because they don't refuse to live, eat and breathe this shit every second of every day?" He snorts out a laugh and then continues on to say, "Come on, everybody clocks out. Even us. Even you."

"How are you not terrified of the prospect of becoming another article online? How do you not let that dictate your whole entire life?"

"Because it's going to happen anyway, whether I want it to, or not. Like, I could stay locked up inside of this building for months and if somebody wakes up one day and decides they want there to be some news about me, then there's going to be."

You raise an eyebrow. "So, what? Might as well give them something worth talking about then?"

He rolls his eyes again, as if quickly growing tired of your unrelenting antics.

"No, man! But listen… Is it really worth it to forgo every single aspect of yourself and your life just for this? Like, don't get me wrong, this is great, but it's all going to go away one day." Finally, he sets his sights on a melon slice sitting on his plate and shoves it into his mouth. "Most of us aren't going to still be doing this at 35, or 40; and then what do you have to show for it all? It's like starting again from scratch. At the very least, maybe you could have met someone along the way."

"I don't think most inactive idols who are married met their spouse while they were idols," you reason, but to that, Eric gives you a look of resounding doubt.

"A lot of them very much did."

Leaning back against the chair, Eric shrugs all nonchalant, like none of this really means anything to him either way. You know this to be untrue, however, due to his being here in any capacity whatsoever. It clearly does, and that fact alone rings alarm bells in your head.

He knows, he's onto you. It just so happens he has the tact not to say it out loud.

"Look, all I'm saying is that it doesn't have to be like this, you don't need to be so uptight about it all. No one else is, and most of them manage to escape out of the other side relatively unscathed. Think of it this way…" Eric meanders on the thought like he isn't entirely sure he wants to broach it to begin with, though ultimately, his nature betrays his sense of self-preservation. With another melon slice in hand, he waggles it vaguely in your direction and says, "How long were you following us as a fan—closely, might I add—and you never suspected a thing, now did you?"

A prior conversation with Juyeon springs to mind in that moment, but even more than that is the curious sensation that trickles up beneath your skin. You do think it through before rattling the question off, but you understand yourself enough to know that there was no chance of either of you leaving this interaction without it being laid out on the table.

"Sunwoo was…?"

"Ah!" Another melon slice is popped into his mouth, though he looks far too pleased with himself about all of this for your liking. He smiles through chews and says, "There's always women. Well, not always. I don't mean it like that…"

"Very tasteful…"

"You know what I'm trying to say! This isn't news to you so don't act like it is now just because you're all jealous and weird with each other, because the other thing you've no doubt learned through years of Sunwoo-viewing is that the bad boy schtick falls flat pretty much immediately once he's pressed about it. He's kind of a loser, a little pathetic but he means well. We like that about him, but girls don't. It's kinda like when you think you're buying a truck online for a killer deal and then it arrives and it's just a picture of the truck and then it's like oh, I guess that's why it was ₩1,000."

The two of you stare at each other in silence for a while after that, but eventually, Eric cuts through that once again.

"Anyway, you get what I mean."

"Was there a point to all of this?"

"Yes, the point is that a lot of people are probably going to tell you not to do anything to jeopardize all of this and I am here to tell you that you should forget everything they've ever told you and to just be smart, stay vigilant, and live your life. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity—all of this—so don't wake up one day and realize all you have to show for ten years of it is some Inkigayo trophies. Ya know, if you can help it."

The thought that follows is far and beyond against your better judgment, but Eric is nothing if not persistent, as well as offering a hefty dash of what you might consider to be some much needed hopeful optimism.

Your head falls into your hands, and with your face cradled between palms so tightly that it pushes and reforms the skin, you say, "So what you're saying is that I should just… date Sunwoo. Or whatever. That's what you're saying."

Sinking closer towards you over the table—so close that the scene probably appears incredibly inappropriate to any potential onlookers—Eric's voice drops to just above a whisper and he says, "It's gotta be pretty obvious by now, right? Everything? I can promise you he isn't just handing out his personal information to any pretty girl at a fansign."

"He certainly acts like he would."

Evidently the meeting has come to a rather abrupt end, because Eric shoots up from his chair and takes the tray back into his hands as he begins his self-aggrandizing strut away.

"That's the fun of it!" he says. "Playing pretend, give the people what they want, but at the end of the day; there's really only one."

Later that evening you receive a message.

The sound of it comes unexpectedly, and you're already fairly tucked into bed for the night on account of the late hour and much to do in the following days. 

Your phone screen glows from the table beside you, and though you look at it suspiciously and have half a mind to ignore it, you cannot will yourself to do so. 

Picking it up, you look at the notification and by some miracle, are surprised by what awaits you.

It's Sunwoo, and there's a photo attached. Your memory springs back to the last time he sent you a picture, and while you hope it's nothing of the sort, you are pleased to be hearing from him at all.

Filming for his drama often runs late at night and though you've not been able to meet with him much, occasionally the groups pass one another in the halls and you can see the evidence of a demanding schedule taking hold. His shoulders droop more, under eyes darker and a little less pep to his step than what you're used to seeing. 

Now, past one in the morning, he is messaging you.

Opening the app, the photo that awaits you is not anything you could have anticipated. It certainly isn't in line with the previous one in question; A beautiful, darkened landscape of trees with fairy lights draped through them, a cobblestone path with a light dusting of snow covering it, and a charming, brightly lit coffee truck with a couple of staff members lingering in wait.

The fact that he would see this and then think of you is not at all lost. Sunwoo has always been something of a romantic at heart, and though a lot of time has been lost since the last time it has felt like something may have been developing, it feels so incredibly him at his very basic core.

There is no text, only the image.

So, you begin typing back to him. A feat that is far from simple like the times it may have been before, and now you feel a sense of anxiety when drafting up what best to say. Talking to Sunwoo used to feel so easy when perhaps there was nothing on the line in doing so.

A few beginnings are drafted and then quickly deleted in favor of something better that you haven't yet thought of. You sigh aloud inside of your dark, empty room and make a pointed effort to center your thoughts so that you can do this. You wanted him to message you, can't leave him waiting forever for a reply now.

Eventually, you figure maybe less thought is better, because overthinking it will make the entire thing seem forced and contrived. Nothing is different now just because a handful of the minute circumstances between the two of you have changed; it's still just you and Sunwoo, the same people from before, the same friendship from before.

Sort of.

You [01:16]: pretty! they really are going for that romantic dramatization aren't they? super late night for you huh.

Almost as soon as you send the message, the indication that Sunwoo is typing once again flies up. He must have been waiting for your reply—never even locked his phone in anticipation of it—and that thought reignites something that you can undeniably recognize as dangerous inside of you: Wanting.

S [01:16]: filming wrapped already, wanted to see if you're awake. can i come over?

Your vision blurs reading over the words.

The girls are home but the dorm has been deathly quiet for quite some time now. Every light is off save for a handful of nightlights that decorate the halls. It's unusual even for you to be awake at this hour with how busy you have been. 

With your breath unsteadying, you inhale deep and begin typing your response.

You [01:17]: everyone is home, it's late

S [01:17]: not what i askedddddd yes or no

The fact that he is asking at all is already an incredible feat of growth as far as Sunwoo-relations are concerned. It's unusual for him to think anything through, much less have the foresight to ask for permission on a decision rather than default to seeking forgiveness after the fact. For this reason, you know that he is absolutely up to something, you just don't know what it is yet.

But maybe you want to find out.

With a shaky exhale that does not have the strength to steady your nerves, you type out your reply, and it is nothing more than a simple yes.

And for as much as you think yourself to be someone who has a relatively thorough understanding of his inner-workings, nothing could have prepared you for the next reply to come to you.

S [01:18]: outside. open up

Eyes widening, terror strikes you in that very moment and you leap to your feet. If any of the girls—or anyone else for that matter—happens to see him outside of your dorm it's going to be the unearthing of a whole set of problems that you very much prefer to remain buried. He's insane, and perhaps is a bit less calculated than you had just been giving him credit for, but more than all of that; it is exhilarating.

You pull on some sweatpants that might be backwards and rush yourself towards the front door as quietly as you possibly can. Looking towards the doors of your members, they are closed, but that does little to calm your fears as you begin to spiral into self-doubt about whatever it is that you have seemingly agreed to. Sunwoo cannot be seen here, not again, and you can only imagine that Woori's patience is growing rather thin despite not even understanding a fraction of the catastrophe that looms overhead.

Hand on the door, you take a deep breath and then… you open it.

What greets you isn't an adoring smile or a small wave, but the feeling of another body crashing directly into yours. You stumble back a few steps and try to maintain the wherewithal to deal with the door you could easily leave behind, but Sunwoo is handling it; removing himself from you only long enough to shut it as quietly as humanly possible, without so much as a single sound.

What follows is another flurry of lips, hands and teeth as he presses you into the kitchen and against the furthest back counter, a nook wholly out of sight should anyone cast a glance out from a doorway. Sunwoo's hands cradle your face as he kisses you, but this time is not like the last. There is nothing chaste nor gentle about his intent to taste you, and there is no effort from you not to meet him halfway in the endeavor either.

Sunwoo motions for you to hoist yourself up, and seated atop the faux-marble his hands drop to sit against your thighs. There is no sign of slowing down, only a desperate sense of urgency and the unraveling of something that has been too tightly wound for far too long.

It feels good. Too good. Intoxicatingly free to just let go. 

Your hands slip down to disappear under his hoodie, quick to locate the flesh that resides somewhere underneath. His muscles tense and shift at the feeling of the touch, sensitive but pleased to be on the receiving end of it all the same. Sunwoo kisses you harder, deeper; gasps into your mouth at the feeling of your hands on him and you drink it all down like there is nothing else left in the room to sustain you.

When his mouth eventually begins to trail elsewhere, you are finally able to hear the heavy beating of your heart ringing through your ears. Plush, soft lips find their intended mark lust below your ear, a devilish tongue that rakes over any spot where his teeth had just been, and your head falls back against the wall a little bit harder than it should, given the necessity of secrecy.

His palms slide up your thighs and settle at your waist, though there is no intention of them staying there given the way fingernails graze at your skin as he slowly curls his fingers into the waistband.

The implications of it all bring you to a crashing halt, and still clutching at the skin of his waist you whisper out, "Wait…"

Sunwoo's head pops up only enough to make eye contact, and the look on your face must say everything that he needs to know, because a salacious grin curls into his lips before once again tending to the work at hand.

His lips find the shell of your ear, breath ghosting over it in ways that electrify your entire body.

"You think I'm gonna fuck you in your kitchen the first time?" he whispers, voice raspy and laden with lust. "Come on, you know me better than that."

Not that you had been meaning to, but if there had been a reply in wait from you it would have been ripped away right along with the firm yank of that waistband from your hips.

Fabric pools on the ground below, and Sunwoo comes up to kiss you again. This time it's brief; lips slide down the column of your neck and you're so dizzy with the immediacy of it all that it isn't until you hear the accidental brush of his knee against a lower cupboard and fingers curling into the fabric still sitting between your legs that you really start to put together the pieces of what's about to happen here.

That knowledge is just as quickly followed by the firm, pointed swipe of his tongue against you.

The gasp that escapes you is too close for comfort as far as volume is concerned. You sling a hand over your mouth, eyes dropping down between your legs to find his, and even more unfortunately for your resolve; he seems to be incredibly amused by it all.

Sunwoo wants you to give in to this, and give in to it, you do. Your free hand settles into his hair and your fingers wrap loose, black curls around and between them as he happily tastes you for the second time tonight. It's sloppy work; little finesse and an unfortunate lack of visual aid to help guide him in the search of having you finally unravel for him. It's so dark, and the both of you have to be even more silent during an exploration that is meant to be anything but.

As much as the odds are stacked against him, it may not end up a failure of an endeavor regardless. This moment has been cultivating for too long between secret meetings and stolen kisses. You can feel the blooming warmth of a release that hopes to come to fruition, and for all of the things that Sunwoo isn't, he does appear to be adept at reading the signs. For everything that he lacks as a result of the situation that the two of you have landed yourselves in, he is nothing if not eager; and that eagerness is hurtling you towards something that you can't be sure you'll be able to stifle when the time comes.

He shifts his position just slightly, and with the additional space he slips a finger inside and curls.

Every muscle in your legs tightens almost painfully so, your eyes screw shut and you have no other option than to drop the hand from your mouth, clutch onto the countertop edge, and pray that this isn't how it's all going to have to come to an end.

The way that the beginning of his name stutters out of your mouth in nothing more than a labored hiss is nearly humiliating, and maybe that's just something that you're going to have to make peace with in the morning. For now, it doesn't matter; the only things carrying any importance being Sunwoo's warm tongue firm and fast at work to make you come for him, and the vision of his eyes staring up at you as you do while he remains knelt down on the kitchen floor.

Through clenched teeth, it all culminates in one long, shattering blow. When you finally do come it's hard fought and leaves you nearly breathless as it takes you; no concern of sounds echoing throughout the dorm as your body heaves a lengthy, silenced gasp.

Sunwoo takes an asserted care in slowing to a halt, though the aftershocks of sensitivity wrack your body with every feather-light glide of his tongue against your body.

When he brings himself back to a standing position, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and goes in to kiss you all over again.

"Don't make me wait so long next time, would you?" he says against your lips, "I've been waiting ages, it's been excruciating."

"You poor thing," you reply through exchanged kisses. "How ever did you survive?"

Sunwoo hums like something exceedingly sinful has come to mind in response. Eyes still blown out with lust and no such release for himself anticipated here.

"I'll give you a play-by-play of exactly how I survived another time." He kisses you again, this time fuller and with more intent and then says, "You prefer video, or video call?"

Your hands once again curve up to feel the skin of his body beneath his shirt, and Sunwoo just about melts into the touch that you offer. His eyes fall closed, lips lazily meeting yours for the affection that you're offering.

"This is going to be a thing now, isn't it?" you ask, knowing full well that the damage is already done.

"We tried it their way. I like our way better."

And unfortunately, you find that the same goes for you.

end of act 2! 🫣

[memorabxlia]

Under the Weather ━ 운학

genre: fluff summary: sick on Christmas, you’re ready to sulk until your best friend Woonhak arrives with cheer and hot chocolate. He turns your miserable day into a cozy celebration, but as you recover, he catches your cold. Now it’s your turn to care for him, proving the holidays are always better together. warnings: heavy mentions of sickness/illness, mentions eating (that’s all I think) pairing: bestfriend!woonhak x fem!reader wc: 1.5k a/n: day 3!!! slowly getting the rest of the event posted : ) nets: @blossomnet @onedoornet @chrimatanet @k-labels @k-films

You knew it was coming, didn’t you? Of course you did. This wasn’t your first rodeo. The scratchy throat a week ago, the slight headache that felt like someone tapping a pencil against the back of your skull. You ignored it, as anyone does when Christmas is around the corner. Who has time to be sick when there’s decorating to do, presents to wrap, and sugar cookies to devour?

But now? Now it’s Christmas morning, and you’re cocooned in a fortress of tissues and blankets. The air smells faintly of menthol rub, and the soft hum of holiday music from your neighbor’s house makes your head throb.

“Why am I like this?” you mumble, voice raspier than you’d like.

You barely have time to pity yourself before your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You glance at it. The bright screen momentarily blinds you, but the name glowing there is enough to make your headache take a backseat.

Woonhak.

Your best friend. The guy who’s been there through thick and thin, who’s probably spent more time at your house than his own. The guy who’s annoyingly, infuriatingly perfect.

You swipe to open the message.

“Merry Christmas! 🎄 Are you alive over there?”

You groan. He knows you’re sick—he knew yesterday when you had to cancel your annual Christmas Eve movie marathon. He’d dropped off a care package with a smug grin, promising to “check in.”

You type back:

“Barely. Thanks for the plague.”

His response is immediate.

“Rude. I’m coming over.”

You barely have time to protest before your doorbell rings. How does he do that? You shuffle to the door, dragging your blanket around your shoulders like some kind of discount holiday ghost.

When you open the door, there he is—Woonhak. Tall, annoyingly cheerful, holding two cups of something steaming in his hands. He’s wearing a ridiculous Santa hat that only makes him look more infuriatingly festive.

“Merry Christmas,” he says, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

“You’re going to catch this,” you warn, closing the door behind him.

He grins. “I have the immune system of a tank. Here.”

He thrusts one of the cups into your hands. It’s hot chocolate—you can smell it, rich and sweet.

“Bribery?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Christmas cheer,” he corrects. He plops down on your couch, kicking off his shoes and settling in like he owns the place.

You sigh, sitting next to him. “You really didn’t have to come.”

“Yeah, but you were wallowing,” he says, stealing a sip from your cup. “Can’t let that happen. Christmas is sacred.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the tiny smile that creeps onto your face. That’s the thing about Woonhak—he’s impossible to stay mad at.

It starts slow, like it always does with him. He pulls out his phone and forces you to watch a compilation of the worst Christmas fails he can find. He laughs until he’s clutching his stomach, and you’d roll your eyes again if his laugh weren’t so contagious.

Then it’s the Christmas playlist—Woonhak sings every song loudly and off-key, even adding a dramatic falsetto when Mariah Carey comes on. You groan and throw a pillow at him, but it only makes him louder.

By the time afternoon rolls around, you’re feeling less like a walking plague and more like...well, yourself. Your fever’s still lingering, and your voice is shot, but you’re laughing. And when Woonhak pulls out the board games he “just happened to bring,” you don’t even argue.

“I’m not letting you win just because you’re sick,” he says as he sets up the game.

“Good,” you croak. “I’d hate for you to get delusional.”

Somewhere between the fifth round of Uno and the second plate of cookies he insisted on baking (“Pre-made dough doesn’t count,” he said, all holier-than-thou as if he wasn’t the guy who once burnt toast), it hits you.

This is the best Christmas you’ve had in years.

Woonhak’s sprawled on the floor, arguing with himself over whether he should play a Draw Four card to win or “keep the spirit of Christmas alive” by going easy on you. You’re clutching your stomach, laughing harder than you have in weeks.

“You’re ridiculous,” you tell him, wiping tears from your eyes.

“And you love it,” he shoots back, grinning.

You do. You really do.

By the time evening rolls around, you’re both bundled up on the couch. The lights on your tiny, slightly lopsided tree cast a warm glow around the room. “Home Alone” is playing on the TV, but neither of you is really watching.

“Hey,” Woonhak says, nudging you with his elbow. “Feeling better?”

You nod, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For...this. For always showing up. Even when I’m gross and sick and—”

“Stop,” he interrupts, nudging you again. “You’d do the same for me.”

You would. Without hesitation.

You’re quiet for a moment, the only sound the soft chatter of the movie and the faint buzz of holiday cheer in the air. Then he speaks again, quieter this time.

“Christmas wouldn’t be the same without you, you know.”

Your chest tightens, and you glance up at him. His eyes are focused on the TV, but there’s something in his expression—something soft, something real.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Same here.”

And in that moment, wrapped in a blanket, your best friend beside you, you realize something. Maybe being sick on Christmas isn’t so bad after all.

By the time New Year’s Eve rolls around, you’re finally feeling like yourself again. The sore throat is gone, your energy’s back, and your voice no longer sounds like a creaky door. It’s a miracle, really. You even manage to convince Woonhak to come over for a celebratory dinner.

“See?” you say smugly as you clear the table. “I told you I’d bounce back in time for the new year. Invincible.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Woonhak mutters, slouched on the couch with his arms crossed. But there’s something off about him. He’s not his usual, annoyingly chipper self.

“Something wrong?” you ask, pausing mid-step.

He shakes his head. “No, I’m fine.”

But he’s not fine. You can tell by the way he’s rubbing his temples, the way his nose is slightly red, the way his voice has an edge of hoarseness to it.

“Woonhak…” you say slowly, setting the plates down and walking over to him. “Are you sick?”

“Nope,” he says too quickly, sinking deeper into the couch. “Definitely not.”

“Liar,” you accuse, crossing your arms.

He groans, tilting his head back. “Okay, maybe. Just a little. But it’s no big deal.”

You stare at him, realization dawning. “Oh my God. You caught it, didn’t you?”

“Caught what?”

“The plague I had! I told you this would happen!”

“Stop calling it the plague,” he grumbles, though his stuffy nose makes it sound more like plaaag.

You can’t help it—you laugh. You laugh so hard that tears prick at your eyes. Because of course this would happen. This is how things always go with you and Woonhak: you get sick, he shows up to save the day, and now here he is, on the verge of a cold.

“Oh, you think this is funny?” he says, shooting you a half-hearted glare.

“A little,” you admit, biting your lip to stifle more laughter.

“Great. I take care of you, and this is the thanks I get?”

“Hey, I didn’t ask you to come over!”

He huffs but doesn’t argue. Instead, he flops down dramatically, pulling the blanket over his head like some kind of defeated soldier.

“Guess I’m dying now,” he says, voice muffled.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” you tease, yanking the blanket off his face.

“Dramatic?” He looks at you, eyes narrowing. “You were literally moaning about the ‘injustice of life’ two days ago.”

“Fine, you’ve got a point,” you concede, sitting next to him. “But don’t worry. I’ve had practice now. I’ll take care of you.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You? Taking care of me? Should I be scared?”

You swat his arm. “Hey, I make great soup.”

He smirks. “Debatable.”

But despite his teasing, you notice the corners of his mouth tug upward in a small smile.

By the next morning, it’s official: Woonhak is down for the count. Fever, runny nose, the whole package. And true to your word, you step up. You make him soup (yes, real soup, not the instant stuff), keep his water glass full, and even let him hog the TV remote.

“You’re surprisingly good at this,” he admits one evening, bundled up on the couch with a box of tissues at his side.

“See? Told you,” you say smugly. “And if you’re nice, I might even make cookies.”

“Homemade?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t push your luck.”

He laughs, and it’s a little wheezy, but it’s the kind of laugh that makes your chest feel warm.

As the days pass, you settle into a rhythm. You and Woonhak bicker over what to watch, argue about the proper way to steep tea, and inevitably end up laughing until your stomachs hurt.

And somewhere in the middle of it all, you realize something: you wouldn’t trade this for anything. Not the sickness, not the chaos, not even the burnt cookies. Because as long as Woonhak’s there, it feels like home.

By the time he starts feeling better, you’re already planning your revenge.

“Next year,” you say as you hand him his coat at the door, “you’re banned from playing nurse.”

He grins, leaning against the doorframe. “Sure you won’t need me?”

“Oh, I’ll need you,” you admit. “But not if it means getting sick all over again.”

“We’ll see,” he says, shooting you a wink as he steps outside.

And as he walks down the snowy path, you can’t help but smile. Because deep down, you know the truth: next Christmas, he’ll be back. And so will you.

❥﹒ boynextdoor taglist: @dobbiesvvorld

[vaciena]

Very happy right now

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Books of 2023. VILLAINS by V. E. Schwab.

Time for a NaNo Prep Reread! I love Victor and this vicious little family with my whole chest. This'll be my second time rereading VICIOUS, but only my first time rereading VENGEFUL.

[housedyke]

Lads I'm reaching that point of house-sitting where I'm over it and there's still half a week left

[wayfinderships]

Good evening gamers!!! Seems like I missed promo hour which is a shame😔 I shall try to partake in it next time!

[kirby-the-gorb]

[raekiez]

Snake and Otacon in my post mgs4 hcs/au :)

[therealvalkyrie]

bath + asparagus time

[skitskatdacat63]

Hmm might be able to post Malaysia 2009 by tmr morning. I always feel a bit cagey abt posting old stuff during a race weekend tho. Bcs everyone(including myself) is so focused on 2023, but then here I am like "hey did you guys want content from 14 years ago....?"