#need this stapled onto my forehead

[000-pawz]

i need to kiss your brain ... you've quickly become one of, if not THEEEE favourite blog on here for me... you're so good and you're SO SWEET too ugh just perfect 💔

got me blushing and kicking my feet over sungho EVERY. SINGLE. TIME!!! 🥹

mwah. 💋

belle omg this put the biggest smile on my face ever :C 🤍 YOU ARE SO SWEET!!!!!! my cutest mootie ever!! this is sososo kind i could cry </3

i love seeing your sungho rambles hehe they make me so happy <3 he luvs u sm!!!

[laurfilijames]

Bulletproof

Pairing: Jax Teller x female reader

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Mentions of being shot through a bulletproof vest. Bruises and welts. Swearing. Unprotected intercourse.

Summary: After a close call in a gunfight, Jax turns to you to remind him of all the things in life worth living for.

A/N: I'm sorry I couldn't help it. This is a teeny bit angsty and full of feelings. I needed to write something "short and sweet" (it's neither of those 🤣) to get my writing back on track, and well, here's this... enjoy!!

---

The buzz of your phone that sat on the nightstand beside your head woke you from a decent sleep, taking you a few minutes to register it was happening for real and not in a dream, a soft moan passing your lips as you reached over for it and hit the button to accept the call.

“Hello?” you answered, your voice groggy and unable to disguise your sleep, your eyes too heavy and blurred to have read on the screen who was on the other end.

“Hey, it’s me,” Jax’s voice registered in your ear, making you become a little more alert and sit up while running your hand over your hair.

“I’m on my way over,” he explained, his tone short and wired, like he was on edge or adrenaline was pumping through him.

Glancing over at the alarm clock, you simply agreed, not asking any questions, knowing if he was calling you and needing to see you at this hour that something more than just sex was on his mind.

The roar of his Harley came through before he hung up, and flinging the covers off while swinging your legs to the side of the bed, you did the same.

You walked through to the front door, wearing only his Reaper t-shirt that had become your nightly staple, flicking the bolt to unlock it as you leaned against the frame, peeling back the curtain that covered the small window to look out onto the dark street as if he would be rolling in any second despite him having just left to get there.

Letting your eyelids close, you continued to lean, wrapping your arms around yourself to try to keep some of the lingering warmth from your bed on your skin, partly hoping that Jax would be tired and ready for sleep when he arrived.

The familiar rumble of his engine sounded in the distance and grew louder with each second, and an automatic smile tugged at your lips, your heart picking up pace just as his motorcycle did to quicker close the gap between him and you.

You watched through the window, your fingers toying with the thin fabric as you held the curtain aside, seeing him roughly push down the kickstand with his white sneakers before quickly standing up and dismounting his bike, unfastening his helmet at the same time.

The way he was rushing made your pulse hammer, his deliberate strides a clear display of his desperation, and you opened the door for him before he blew through it and knocked it off its hinges, his expression a mix of frenzy and relief as his blue eyes landed on you.

Gloved hands gripped your cheeks roughly, pulling you into him equally as much as he pressed himself into you, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss so hard it stole your breath.

A slightly surprised gasp blew out of your mouth when he parted from you and gave you an opportunity to get air back into your lungs, your eyes searching his features with concern as you took in the sweat clinging to his reddened cheeks, his hair damp and darkened.

His chest rose and fell sharply, and tearing off his gloves, he raked his long fingers that held a home for his chunky rings through his messy tresses, exhaling a shaky breath as he looked down at the floor and then back up at you.

“Jax, what happened?”

He shook his head and chuckled falsely, pulling his bottom lip in his teeth before looking at you with what he must have thought was a convincing expression.

“I’m fine.”

His eyebrows sat high on his forehead and brought out the creases on it as he stared at you, and when you held his gaze almost challengingly, he blinked away the moisture that you caught building up in them and moved into you again, his sigh emptying out into your mouth as he kissed you slower this time, but with equal passion.

Your hands slipped up beneath his kutte, the heat of his skin pouring off of him as you rubbed his back in soothing motions, the act comforting yourself as much as it was him.

The familiar taste and smell of smoke assaulted your nose and transferred onto your tongue, knowing whatever stress he was under right now had caused him to light up one cigarette after the other to try to settle his nerves.

As your kiss faded out, Jax rubbed his nose against the side of yours, his breath hot on your cheek, the stickiness of his skin transferring onto yours.

He leaned his forehead against yours, breathing for a moment while he let his hands roam up over your bum and onto the small of your back, bringing your body even closer to his.

Swaying slightly on the spot, he nuzzled his face into yours even more, a moment of softness before he met your lips again, claiming you in another kiss that started slow and quickly increased in fervor.

His breathing became laboured, struggling to draw in enough air as he kissed you harder and with more desperation, his hands gripping at your flesh beneath his worn shirt.

You could feel his hard cock pressing into you as it strained against his jeans, making you rub yourself on it a couple of times with a teasing grind of your hips, your fingers moving down his stomach to work at the button and zipper while he shrugged out of his kutte.

It landed carelessly on the floor beside you, and you couldn’t mistake the slight wince on his face before it disappeared in his hoodie as he lifted his arms and pulled it over his head, immediately moving back to capture your lips again.

He kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his jeans, walking forward to force you back and further into your house, your hand rubbing him through his boxers before diving inside the waistband to take hold of his cock, stroking the hot, velvety skin of his length that made you moan into his mouth and him push harder on yours.

Both of you blindly made your way toward your bedroom, only pausing your kisses briefly to peel the white t-shirt that clung to his body off of him, your breath knocking out of you as he slammed you against the wall and began lifting the hem of the shirt still covering your body.

Once your naked form was available to him, he trailed his lips down your neck and along your collarbone while his hands smoothed all along your waist, one moving to your breasts where his fingers plucked one of your peaked nipples, the other traveling downward to slip between your legs.

“Jax…” you breathed, your tone needy and filled with lust, the sensation of his fingers entering and withdrawing from your slick hole making your eyes close and your head knock back on the drywall.

After losing yourself in ecstasy for a couple of minutes, you refocused, needing him more than ever, your thumbs hooking in the band of his boxers to tear them down his legs.

Jax took your hand and turned to lead you the short distance to your room, giving you a view of his back where your eyes were drawn to different spots of dark colouring that weren’t part of the ones that made up the large tattoo that covered almost all of it.

Peppered between the image of the Reaper and letters that spelled out ‘California’ were round bruises, his skin raised with welts, and your heart sank in realization of what had caused them; the impact of the bullets that had hit him unable to be disguised even with the protection of kevlar.

You instinctively reached out to lightly trace each one, counting three in total, a mix of emotions rushing through you that were half grateful and half terrified.

“I’m fine.” He repeated the same lie as before, glancing back at you as he paused in his steps and turned to face you.

You dove into him, wrapping your shaky arms around him to hug him so tight you didn’t care if it hurt, feeling his arms encase you in return and his lips press multiple times on the top of your head.

A sourness crept up your restricted throat, your guts twisting almost painfully at the thought of one of those bullets striking a place the bulletproof vest hadn’t been covering, and you frantically began kissing him everywhere you could reach, starting on his chest and making your way up his neck, your hands moving to cup his cheeks where your thumbs smoothed back and forth on his blond scruff. Your lips met again, both of you moaning into each other’s mouths as you transferred all your worry and grief into a display of love, his cock nudging at your core to remind you of what it was he needed right now.

The oncoming tears stung when you squeezed your eyelids together tightly, one slipping out and down your cheek as you retrained your focus on the feel of his tongue tangling with yours instead, the simplicity of needing to just be with him beginning to outweigh anything else.

You finally made it into your room, sitting on the bed and scooching yourself back to lay down with spread legs as he settled between them and sank overtop of you, continuing to kiss you with as much ardor that the skin around your mouth was already beginning to feel raw.

His knee pressed up on your thigh to guide it higher, spreading you out further as he covered your body completely with his, his fingers running along your scalp to send shivers across your skin.

You adjusted your hips, angling yourself to allow for his leaking head to push through your folds, lingering with just the tip of him inside you that somehow already made you feel full.

The skin on his back was tacky as you ran your hands gently up and down it, feeling his muscles flex as he began to move against you, his cock stretching you out inch by inch as he slowly pushed all the way in.

It was ironic; catching glimpses of the silver shell casing that hung from the chain around his neck in the light shining in through the window as it wagged and glided along your chest, filling the space between your hearts that hammered furiously and proved his vitality as if it hadn’t been threatened.

As soon as Jax had pulled into your driveway he felt better, the need to see you and be with you at the forefront of his mind, having bolted out of the clubhouse the minute he had changed out of his tac vest and clothes that were sprayed with holes from the gunshots he could still hear going off in his head.

Now that he had felt your lips against his and the softness of your skin beneath his palms, he was filled with an appreciation for you that he knew he took for granted too many times before, the relief he felt at being with someone who made him feel alive after a close call with death sobering him in a harsh bite of reality.

The way you made him feel was undeniable, giving him a vigor that was too often misplaced and diluted even though you showed him a brighter side to all the darkness that surrounded him, his lack of commitment to anyone but his club wrongly applicable even to you.

He thrusted harder into you, deepening his strokes as he peeled his mouth from yours to watch his cock pump in and out of you, the sound of your pleasure coming out in beautiful whimpers and soft moans while requesting more from him reiterating every reason why he came here tonight in the first place.

Jax dove against your lips again, needing to kiss you in order to stop himself from saying things that he feared may only be a result of how fucking scared he had been earlier, but deep down knowing the words that portrayed how he felt weren’t coming from a place of fear.

It felt different. Crazed and desperate and meaningful, the way he fucked you hinting at something more intent and unwavering than usual.

Sex with Jax was always mind-numbing and intense, but you never let yourself get too far into things knowing he could be gone before you even woke the next day and carrying on without thinking twice about it meaning anything more, his nonchalance always reminding you to take nothing from it other than pleasure.

Gone.

The potency of that little word had your eyes burning again, burrowing an emptiness in your chest that ached to be filled by anything he was generous enough to give.

There were never any labels put on what you were to each other or what this was, but the possibility of losing him at any moment made you desperate to show him what he meant to you, your fingers digging into the flesh on his upper arms so hard as if adding marks of your own on his body would make him stay with you forever.

You reached your face upward to press harder against his mouth, happy when he reciprocated and drove his tongue deeper inside yours, the long, rolling motions of his hips continuing, only now with more calculated force.

Heat bubbled within you, building up into that familiar tingle that taunted to be chased, every nerve in you warning of what drew nearer with each pump and drag of his long cock in and out of you.

The way his hands roamed your body in a calm, but needy way had your mind spinning, like the more he touched you the more it grounded and convinced him that he was still here to enjoy something this good; the gravity of today in no hurry to lose its effectiveness.

Jax paused for a moment, rubbing his hand over your forehead as he searched your eyes for permission or assurance or something more that scared even you, the sound of your panting breaths the only thing audible in the dark quiet of your room. He dipped down to brush your lips again, his scruff holding onto the sweat that had effectively coated every part of his body, lightly teasing with a softer kiss before resuming the purposeful tempo of his hips, the silence between you able to voice that you were both ready to find your high together.

Letting your bodies say what your words couldn't, you met his pace, grinding and rolling deliberately in time with him, the need to help him find his release with the use of your body seeming more important tonight than it ever had.

Jax gripped your face tightly, his fingers squeezing your jawline in an almost frantic way, groaning into your mouth desperately as a signal of his climax.

His thrusts never faltered, continuing to pound you while his hot cum filled you up in aggressive spurts, throwing you into your own orgasm as your clit rubbed against the coarse hairs on his groin. The feel of his cock sliding his thick seed in and out of you drew out your high, prolonging every blissful spark and shudder that tore through your body, the way his sweaty form laid heavily on top of yours a necessary weight that helped you stay rooted in the moment.

He remained buried inside you while you kissed, catching your breaths by sharing each other’s until he slipped from between your legs and crashed onto the covers beside you, his arm falling over his head as he stared up at the ceiling.

Despite having just been as close to him as you possibly could be, you felt a vacancy and longing for him, glancing over at him where you watched him close his eyes, his chest rising and falling quickly as he drew in sharp breaths.

His necklace fell to the side from where it rested on his pec, hanging in his armpit as he continued to breathe, and you carefully picked it up between your fingers, the silver cold against them and a stark contrast to the heat that radiated off his body.

Even though his eyes remained closed, you couldn’t mistake the pained look on his face, a sort of fear and vulnerability that was rare to see on his features, his mortality shattering the usual invincibility that was layered on falsely by his cockiness.

Your chest felt tight, watching him let everything the adrenaline had prevented him from feeling earlier course through him, and you leaned over and traced your fingertips along the creases beside his mouth before pressing your lips to his, relieved when he didn’t hesitate to kiss you back.

His arms came down to wrap around you, pulling your body to rest more on top of his, his hands carding over your back in a comfortable, soothing way.

You couldn’t recount the times sex with Jax had turned into a quick goodbye between smiling kisses and promises to see each other soon only to have days turn into weeks, convincing yourself and him that this was nothing more than a casual, fun fuck, having to disguise the way your heart ached for him and how many butterflies erupted at the mention of his name alone.

None of that mattered tonight, no longer caring if you let your cards show, the severity of tonight outweighing any need to try to stifle your feelings or bother denying that you felt more for him than you ever intended to let happen.

Jax remained pensive and quiet, his boisterous self clouded by his brush with a graver fate, but with the occasional kiss to the top of your head and the way his heartbeat had steadied in your ear, you knew he was comforted in your embrace.

As you laid entwined in your sheets, your leg hooked over his waist while he held your hand and played with your fingers, interlacing them and listlessly running them through his, you thought how you would never be able to control or guarantee if he would be yours to love forever, the way he lived his reckless life a threat to any sort of assurance.

A soft smile tugged at your lips when Jax shifted slightly lower on the bed to line up your face with his, kissing you slowly and clutching your hand in his where he brought it into his chest.

His nose rubbed against yours a couple of times before he settled his head on your pillow, a quiet hum sounding from his mouth, his blue eyes shining with a vitality and promise that for at least another day, he was yours.

---

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Taglist:

@sotwk @dailydragon08 @sunnys-day @thedreadandthefugitivemind @glassgulls @littlenosoul @glitterypirateduck @momia2910 @maggotzombie @rmwarn90 @paintlavillered @stealfromthedevil @kmc1989 @rhoorl

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Code of Conduct 4

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as cheating, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss has a difficult time keeping his personal life from bleeding into his work. 

Characters: Steve Rogers, this reader is known as Rosie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

“Are you sure you want to keep working?” You ask Mr. Rogers as you bring in the printed report he requested. 

“Yeah, can’t really go home...” he mutters as he takes the report with a brittle smile. 

“I guess, but you could... take some time for yourself. I can call your one o’clock,” you offer. 

“Rosie, you’re wonderful. But I need the distraction.” 

“Okay, I—can I get you anything? A tea? When I feel down, I have this lavender chamomile in my desk that helps me feel better.” 

He looks at you, his blue eyes sparkling. You really can’t handle him crying. His eyes are already pink and puffy from the tears he hid in his closed office. 

“You’re so sweet,” he sniffs. 

“Look that over and I’ll steep the tea,” you insist. 

You leave him before your ingrained sympathy can have you joining his pity party. You feel awful for him but lost too. You’re not sure how to handle all this. Relationships have always been a bit of a mystery to you. You have lot of friends but never found anyone to be more than. 

You take your time in the break room. You smell like vinaigrette. It’s another reminder of the chaotic morning. The kettle pops and you pour the water over the tea bag. You bob it up and down with the string and make your way back to Mr. Roger’s office. 

He thanks you as you set it down and warn him it’s hot. He runs his thumb up and down the edge of a page then looks up at you.  

“Anything else, sir?” 

“You... you said you feel down sometimes?” He asks. 

“Oh, well, yeah, but everyone does.” 

“But... about what? Why would you feel down?” He lowers the stapled papers onto the desk. 

“Just... things, sir. Nothing big. It’s just the way people are.” 

“You-- you have everything, Rosie. You’re so bright and bubbly. What could make you sad?” He pivots his chair towards you. “Who do I gotta give a talking to around here?” 

“No one, sir. Really. I guess I just need a pick-me-up from time to time.” 

He nods and looks down. You hover on the other side of his desk. You should get back to work but you don’t know if you should leave him. 

“I get lonely too.” He lifts his chin up. “Even when Peggy’s right next to me. I get it.” 

“Sir?” 

“You said you’re not married, right? I—I'm sorry if I assumed--” he cringes. “Wow, I’m so embarrassing.” 

“It’s... it’s fine. I have friends and we have lots of fun. My friend Missie, she’s really cool. She lies to tie-dye. We do that sometimes. And you,” you perk up, “you have Mr. Barnes, right? He told me that you twohave known each other forever.” 

“He told you that?” Rogers tilts his head. 

“Well, sure, he’s a bit chatty when he stops by.” 

“He is?” A brow arches curiously and ripples his forehead. “I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re so easy to talk to. Even with someone like him.” 

“Erm, I guess. I just try to see the positive. You know. Um, I don’t mean to presume because I can’t begin to know but I know Peggy loves you. And you have a good job and you can fix this, Mr. Rogers. You could try counselling or I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t know much,” you shrug. 

“We did counselling,” he picks up the mug and blows the steam away, inhaling the scent. “She stormed out of that too. We’ve tried a lot of things. A second honeymoon, a vow renewal, everything.” He looks down and his shoulders slump. He looks tiny even though he’s a big man. 

“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to overstep.” 

“You didn’t,” he inhales and pushes his shoulders straight. “You’re right, I can do something. I can put myself first. I think... I think I need to look into leaving.” 

You blink. You’re speechless. It feels like too much. Not his suggestion, just that he’s saying it to you. You’re fine getting him coffee and sorting his schedule but you haven’t been trained for this. 

“You should do what’s best for you, sir.” 

He nods and tastes the tea. “It’s good, Rose,” He sets the cup down. “Thanks. You’re... you’re too good to me.” 

“It’s just tea. I’ll let you enjoy it in peace and I gotta get back to it.” You smile. “Let me know if you need anything else.” 

“Will do,” he utters glumly. 

You slowly turn away and stride out. You feel a tugging in your stomach. Like guilt. You feel bad leaving him like that. Yet, you don’t know what else you can do for him. Missie would know. She always knows how to make things better. Maybe you could ask her but it’s a long story. 

Hm. 

You take out your phone and open up the conversation. You giggle at the kitten pictures she sent you last night. It takes several attempts to get it right; ‘hey, Miss, what would you do for someone going through a break-up? Tryna do something nice. Thx <3’ 

You’re sure she’ll come up with something, even without all the details. You tuck your phone away and turn back to your screen. As you do, an email pings into Mr. Rogers’ inbox.  

You click on it and open the attachment. The legal letterhead has your blood cold. Before you can react, you hear Mr. Rogers exclaim.

Oh no, he’s already seen it. Divorce papers. 

[rafecamerons-national-anthem]

𝐻𝒰𝒮𝐵𝒜𝒩𝒟’𝒮 𝐵𝐼𝑅𝒯𝐻𝒟𝒜𝒴-𝒟𝑅𝐸𝒲 𝒮𝒯𝒜𝑅𝒦𝐸𝒴

𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪 Drew returns home from a long day of work, greeted by his wife Y/N, who has planned a quiet, intimate birthday celebration for him. The evening is filled with warmth, love, and personal touches, from a cozy meal to a thoughtful journal gift.

✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮

The evening was settling in as Drew closed the front door behind him, exhaling a long breath as he finally stepped into the peace of home. He looked up to see the warm, dim light flickering through the living room, casting a golden glow across the walls. The air smelled faintly of vanilla and cinnamon, comforting scents he instantly associated with his wife, Y/N.

He let his bag drop onto the floor with a soft thud, running a hand through his hair as he stretched his shoulders. Work had been relentless lately, with back to back shoots and long hours that barely left room to breathe, let alone celebrate a birthday. But, somehow, Y/N had insisted they would still mark the day in a way that would help him relax. He couldn’t help but feel a spark of curiosity and excitement at the sight of her warm, inviting touches scattered around the house.

Hearing him come in, Y/N stepped out of the kitchen, a soft smile spreading across her face as she saw him.

“There he is,” she murmured, her eyes twinkling as she crossed the room to meet him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, lingering there for a moment as if savoring the warmth between them.

Drew sighed, letting himself melt into her embrace. “You have no idea how much I needed this,” he said softly, leaning his forehead against hers. “Just you and peace.”

She smiled, brushing a strand of hair back from his face. “Well, that’s exactly what you’re going to get tonight. It’s just us, no interruptions. Happy birthday, my love.”

He chuckled, taking her hands in his and swaying a little, as if dancing to a slow, silent song. “Thank you, sweetheart. Honestly, I don’t think I could handle anything big tonight, anyway. This is perfect.”

As he spoke, he noticed a small dining setup on the coffee table, a rich spread of his favorite foods, lovingly plated and ready to be enjoyed. He could see her touches in every detail, from the candles to the neatly folded napkins. It made his heart swell.

“Did you do all this?” he asked, marveling at the cozy setup.

“Who else?” she teased, pulling him gently by the hand to sit on the floor with her, right in front of the table. She’d laid out soft cushions and blankets, creating a little fort of comfort and warmth that he hadn’t even realized he’d been yearning for.

“I thought we could do something low key,” she said, handing him a glass of his favorite wine. “No need to get dressed up, no pressure. Just good food, soft music, and us.”

Drew clinked his glass with hers, a soft chuckle escaping him. “You always know exactly what I need, don’t you?”

“Pretty sure it’s in the wife manual,” she teased, tapping her glass gently to his. “To know exactly what your man needs after a long day of work.”

They shared a laugh, taking a sip of their wine as a soft melody began to play from the speaker Y/N had set up in the corner. It was one of Drew’s favorite songs, something he used to hum when they were first dating. She’d never forgotten it, keeping it as a staple in every playlist she made for them. He looked at her with gratitude and a touch of awe, wondering how he’d gotten so lucky.

They ate slowly, taking their time to savor each bite. Drew found himself laughing more than he had in weeks, his shoulders relaxing as they swapped stories, some old and familiar, others new and hilarious. He was enchanted by her laughter, her smile, the way her eyes lit up with every story.

As the meal wound down, Y/N got up and retrieved a small cake from the kitchen, bringing it back with a single candle flickering in the center.

“Make a wish,” she said softly, setting the cake down in front of him.

Drew closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he made his wish. He knew what he wanted, but as he peeked at Y/N from under his lashes, he realized that maybe his wish had already come true.

“Did you wish for something good?” she asked, a playful glint in her eye.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he teased, leaning forward to blow out the candle. “But, yes. It was a good one. Though being here with you, I don’t think I need much else.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, and she reached out to take his hand, squeezing it gently. “Well, lucky for you, there’s more.”

Before he could ask what she meant, she pulled him up from the floor, leading him into the living room. He raised an eyebrow as she stopped in front of the couch, picking up a neatly wrapped gift he hadn’t noticed before.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” he protested, feeling a mix of surprise and gratitude.

“Trust me, you’ll want this one,” she said, grinning as she handed it to him. “Go on, open it.”

With a curious smile, Drew began to unwrap the gift, taking his time to savor the moment. Inside, he found a leather bound journal, the kind he’d mentioned wanting ages ago. He opened it to find a few notes she’d written on the first page:

"For my love, my partner, my adventure. May you fill these pages with all the dreams you dare to chase, and may they lead you back home every time."

Drew swallowed hard, feeling a wave of emotion rise in his chest. He closed the journal, unable to find the words to express just how much it meant to him.

“Y/N…I did not expect this. Thank you.”

She shrugged, trying to brush it off, but he could see the affection in her eyes. “I know how much you like to write things down, and I thought maybe this would help you remember all the moments you might want to keep.”

Drew cupped her face, his thumbs brushing along her cheeks as he leaned in to kiss her softly. It was slow and tender, a silent exchange of love that neither of them needed words to convey.

They spent the rest of the night on the couch, wrapped up in each other, talking and laughing until the hours stretched past midnight. Drew felt a sense of peace settle over him, a reminder that, no matter how hectic life became, he always had this place, these arms, to come home to.

Just before they drifted off, Y/N leaned against his shoulder, whispering softly, “Happy birthday, Drew. I love you.”

He kissed the top of her head, feeling a warmth blossom in his chest. “I love you too, Y/N. More than you’ll ever know.”

And as they sat there in the quiet, Drew knew that this was exactly the birthday he’d needed, simple, filled with love, and with her by his side.

As they sat there, wrapped up in the warmth of each other and the dim candlelight, Drew felt the weight of the past few weeks slipping away. Work had been intense, with long hours and relentless schedules, but somehow, being here with Y/N made everything feel manageable. She had a way of bringing him back to himself, making him feel grounded in a way no one else could.

He shifted a little, pulling her closer, until she was nestled perfectly against his chest. They stayed like that for a moment, neither one of them speaking, just breathing in sync, feeling the quiet calm they both needed.

“So,” Y/N said after a while, looking up at him with a mischievous smile, “what do you say to a little birthday tradition?”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “A tradition, huh? Are you planning to keep this low key theme going for all my birthdays?”

She laughed, her fingers lightly tracing patterns on his hand. “Well, maybe not all of them, but for now, yes. We’ll keep it simple.” She leaned over, reaching into a small drawer next to the couch, and pulled out a small, decorative box. She handed it to him, her eyes gleaming with a hint of mystery.

“Open it.”

Drew’s curiosity piqued as he took the box. Inside, he found a collection of little cards, each one handwritten in Y/N’s neat, looping handwriting. He looked up at her, eyebrows raised, and she gave him a small, almost shy smile.

“They’re little birthday promises,” she explained softly. “Things we can do together throughout the year, little moments I want us to make time for. Life gets busy, and I just I don’t want us to forget to celebrate the small things.”

He picked up the first card and read it aloud. “Take a weekend trip to the beach, just the two of us.” He looked up, grinning. “You know I’m always up for that.”

She smiled, and he continued to sift through the cards, reading each one with growing affection. “Go stargazing, because it’s been too long.” “A night where we stay in bed, order pizza, and watch cheesy movies.” “Write letters to each other, for no reason at all.”

He chuckled, touched by each thoughtful card, each small promise she’d written just for him. “You really thought of everything, didn’t you?”

“Just wanted to give us something to look forward to,” she said softly, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. “Sometimes I feel like our days slip by so fast, especially with you working so much. These are just little things we can look forward to.”

He reached out, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Y/N, this is incredible. I love it.”

She blushed, ducking her head as he looked at her, a softness in his gaze that made her heart flutter. “I’m glad you do,” she murmured. “Because, honestly, these are things I want too. Just little moments with you.”

They sat there in comfortable silence for a moment, and Drew carefully put the cards back in the box, setting it aside before pulling her into his lap. She let out a soft laugh, wrapping her arms around his neck as he held her close.

“You’re too good to me, you know that?” he said, resting his forehead against hers.

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Says the guy who can’t go two days without sending me flowers when he’s away on set.”

He laughed, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Touché. But still I don’t know what I’d do without you. You make everything feel right.”

They stayed like that, close and quiet, and Y/N let herself relax in his arms, enjoying the feel of his hands gently tracing circles along her back. It was a little ritual he did without thinking, something he did whenever he held her close. She closed her eyes, savoring the moment, feeling safe and warm.

After a while, he broke the silence, his voice soft and low. “Hey, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

She pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a curious expression. “What is it?”

He hesitated, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “Lately, with everything going on, I’ve been thinking about well, about our future. About everything I want with you.”

Her heart skipped a beat as she searched his face, trying to read the emotions in his eyes. “Oh?” she prompted, her voice barely a whisper.

He took a deep breath, his fingers lacing through hers. “I know we’ve talked about a lot of this before, but, I want to make sure that, no matter what happens, we make time for each other. For us.” He glanced at the box of promises, smiling softly. “Things like that. Little traditions, little rituals. They mean everything to me.”

Y/N felt a warmth spread through her chest, a feeling of contentment that settled deep within her. “They mean everything to me too, Drew. You know that. Whatever comes next, whatever happens, we’re in this together. Always.”

He kissed her then, slow and tender, as if he were sealing a promise that went beyond words. When they pulled back, they stayed close, their foreheads touching as they breathed in unison.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “For everything. I know I don’t say it enough, but I love you, Y/N. You’re my everything.”

She smiled, her eyes shining with a mixture of love and pride. “And I love you, Drew. More than you’ll ever know.”

They talked about the future, about dreams they hadn’t shared with anyone else, about the life they were building together. As the clock struck midnight, marking the end of his birthday, Drew held her close, feeling more grateful than ever.

It was quiet, it was simple, but it was everything he needed. And as he drifted off to sleep that night, Y/N’s head resting on his chest, he knew that, no matter where life took him, he’d always have this this warmth, this love, this sense of belonging that made every birthday wish come true.

The clock had long passed midnight, but neither Drew nor Y/N seemed ready to move from their cozy little nest. The candles had nearly burned out, casting the room in a soft, dim glow, and the quiet hum of their favorite playlist played faintly in the background. They lay side by side on the floor, wrapped in a thick, wool blanket, and every so often, Y/N would shift, snuggling closer to Drew, who was absentmindedly running his fingers through her hair.

Y/N traced circles on his chest, her voice barely above a whisper. "Do you remember the first birthday we spent together?"

He chuckled, a grin spreading across his face as he remembered. “Of course. You made me that terrible cake that nearly burned down your apartment.”

She groaned, burying her face in his shoulder, laughing softly. “Hey! It was not that bad. It was just a little crispy on the edges.”

“Crispy? Y/N, it was a rock,” he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “But you know, I ate every bite.”

She looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Only because you felt bad for me.”

“Partially,” he admitted, laughing. “But mostly because you made it. And you looked so devastated, standing there with that frosting covered mess. How could I not eat it?”

Y/N rolled her eyes but nestled closer, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “Okay, fine. I’ll admit I’ve come a long way since then.”

He tilted her chin up, kissing her gently. “A very long way. You’ve made this night perfect, Y/N. I don’t think I’ve ever had a birthday this peaceful. You make it all feel so effortless.”

She sighed contentedly, her fingers lacing through his. “It’s easy to put the effort in when it’s for someone I love,” she said simply. Her voice was sincere, no hint of hesitation, and Drew’s heart warmed as he held her a little closer.

For a while, they just lay there, looking up at the ceiling, letting the quiet moments speak for themselves. The rain had started outside, a soft patter against the windows that added to the peacefulness of the night. Drew couldn’t help but feel grateful for these small details, the sound of rain, the glow of the dying candles, the scent of vanilla lingering in the air. Everything felt still, as if the world had paused just for them.

Finally, as the first light of dawn began to peek through the window, Drew let out a contented sigh, holding her close.

“This was the perfect birthday, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice filled with gratitude. “Thank you for making it unforgettable.”

She snuggled into him, her fingers tracing small circles along his arm. “Here’s to many more, just like this.”

He closed his eyes, feeling a warmth settle over him as he held her. For once, there was no hurry, no schedule to keep, no obligations. Just him, and her, and the life they were building together, one moment at a time. And as he drifted off to sleep, his heart full and content, Drew knew that he had everything he could ever need right there beside him.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Hurt

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You fall

It all happens so quickly.

One minute you're holding Sam's hands, walking up icy, stone steps at half-time and the next you've lost your footing.

Your crumpled body lies at the very bottom, your head making impact with each and every step on your way down. The players yet to retreat to the locker are horrified and the crowd is as well.

You're very much a staple at Chelsea matches, almost as famous as your mothers and people delight in getting you to sign Harder and Eriksson jerseys.

It's like a scene out of a particularly disturbing movie to see you in a heap at the bottom of the stairs.

To make it even worse, you're not moving.

Sam, in particular, looks like she's going to be sick - caught between staring at your unmoving body and the hand that you had been holding previously. She takes the stairs two at a time to get down to reach you, where coach Emma has already got a hand on your neck, checking your pulse.

"Someone get Pernille and Magda," She orders and Jessie takes off at a run," And for fuck's sake, where are the medics?!"

You come to as she's yelling and try to lift your head. It's pounding in agony and you can feel every bit of movement like you're on fire.

"No, no, y/n," Coach Emma says softly, pressing your head back down," Don't move. Stay very still."

In an instant, you burst into tears. You're disorientated and confused and the pain is enough to make you want to curl into a ball and die. In particular, a spot right in the middle of your forehead feels icky and wet in a way that you don't like.

Even though you're crying, you do as Coach Emma says because she's very smart and looks after you sometimes when Momma and Morsa are playing.

You can hear clamouring behind you, both from voices you recognise and those you don't.

You scream and sob into the ground as hands go onto your back.

The medics.

"Hey, kiddo," One of them says in their soft voice," We're going to roll you over, okay? I need you to be very brave for me and stay flat on your back."

Hands are on your little shoulders as you're flipped over. The brightness of the winter sun makes you wince and screw your eyes shut. You cry even louder, huge, gut-wrenching screams accompanying them.

When you open your eyes again, it's to a permanent redness in one of them.

Blood.

Blood from your icky and too-wet forehead.

It makes you scream and sob all over again.

One of the medics shines a light in your eye and makes you follow his finger.

"Pupils are uneven," He says to Coach Emma but your English isn't working properly so you don't understand what he's saying," And slow response to tracking my finger. Where are Pernille and Magda?"

"Coming," Sam insists but she sounds shaky and can't even bring herself to look at you. Pernille and Magda had trusted her to get you safely to the locker room. You should have already been there, snacking on goldfish crackers and wrapped up tight in your baby blanket. But you're on the ground with your head split open and what looks to be a concussion.

Because she couldn't keep a hold of your hand.

"They're coming."

The medic smiles down at you with a smile you recognise. It's the same smile Momma gives you when she doesn't want you to worry.

You're very scared to see it on someone else's face.

"Someone's going to hold your head, y/n," He says," And we're going to move you onto this stretcher and get you some help. Okay? You're being very brave."

You don't know what he's saying.

All of your English is gone and you don't know where your mothers are.

You scream and sob as you're moved, placed in a stretcher by the medics and taken inside.

The crowd claps you inside like you're a player but all you're focussing on is the running forms of your mothers.

"Momma, Morsa," Are the broken words that come out of your mouth.

They both look half to tears themselves.

"It's okay, princesse," Morsa says to you, thankfully in Swedish," It's all going to be okay. You're so brave. You're so good, babygirl."

Morsa doesn't call you babygirl often. Almost always y/n or princesse unless she feels scared. When she's scared, it's always babygirl. You whine and weakly reach out to her. She kisses your little hand as Momma takes her place.

Morsa disappears from your vision and you're carted away to the treatment room so you don't see her grab Sam by the jersey and slam her against the wall.

"Hi, princesse," Momma says as she joins you, holding your hand tightly. She's speaking Danish, low and comforting like your bedtime stories. "You're doing so well. Just a little longer."

The pain hasn't lessened and you can't even nod without a wave of nausea running through your little body.

You zone out completely as you're lifted into her arms and braced against her. You try to wriggle away when the doctor approaches to sew up your still-bleeding forehead but Momma's grip is iron-tight and you don't have the energy to fight for long.

Your tears run down your cheeks as you cry. As soon as he pulls away, you gag and your breakfast leaves your stomach. It makes you sob even more, unaware of why you've even thrown up.

"Concussion," The doctor says to Momma," For certain."

Her hold on you tightens as she mops up your face and the front of your shirt. "How bad?"

"She did lose consciousness briefly," The doctor says," But it's not grade three...barely."

Momma nods, finally deciding to just take off your t-shirt as you whine and weakly tug at it. Your eyes slide closed for a few moments in your sudden drowsiness but you force them open each time.

"She'll be okay? She...It's just she's so little. Are you sure?"

"She'll be fine. No screen time, no sports, lots of water. If she throws up more than twice a day, passes out or has a seizure, take her right to the hospital. I don't recommend her going back onto the pitch because of the noise. She needs a nice, quiet place to start her recovery."

Momma nods and takes you out of the room. You tuck yourself into the crook of her neck as she walks you to the locker room.

Morsa is waiting outside, pacing but lights up when she sees you both. Momma reports everything to her as she inspects your head. You try to move away from her grip but sag in exhaustion when Morsa takes you in her arms.

"I scared Sam," She reports," Like, really scared her. I just saw red."

"You have to apologise."

"Later." Morsa waves it away as she changes your shirt, being as delicate and careful as possible. "Emma said we don't have to stay. She's already put people on in our places. We...We should get her home."

"Magda...It's okay to cry."

The dam breaks in that instant and Morsa holds you tighter, one arm around your little body and the other around the back of your head, holding you against her as she sobs into your hair.

You whine a little, completely drained but slump against her, soaking in the comfort and warmth of Morsa. You feel a little better now that you're wrapped up with your mothers, protected in a nice little bubble away from everything outside.

You stick your hand out behind you, where you know Momma is. She joins you, taking your hand and covering you in your baby blanket. It's been oversized since they bought it so it covers your body and head easily.

It drapes over you and a bit of Morsa's shoulder. It plunges you into near darkness. It's nice. To not have to be blinded by the bright lights.

"She-She fell," Magda says as she sobs to Pernille," There's already a video up. It was icy and she slipped. Pernille, she hit every step. We're lucky she didn't break her neck."

"But she didn't. Magda, she didn't. She's right here. She's safe. She's going to be better in a few weeks."

Magda nods but doesn't quite look like she believes it.

"Let's go home," Pernille says," We'll get back. You can baby proof the whole house like I know you want to and we'll cuddle her to death."

Magda sighs but nods again. You're completely limp in her grip, still awake but just barely. Your movements are sluggish and tinged with drowsiness. Your cut has been sewn shut and the bruising is minimal right now but it still kind of aches a little bit.

You look extra cute in an oversized Harder jersey to make up for the t-shirt you had thrown up over. Your baby blanket is tight around you and you smile up at your mothers sleepily.

"Sam probably feels terrible," Pernille says as she gently guides Magda out of the locker room and stadium," I think we'll get a gift package delivered soon."

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

You OK? - Charles Leclerc

<word count - 1433>

"OK, this should help your nose," you said, handing a stuffy Charles a steaming mug of peppermint tea, hoping it might clear his nose out somewhat. "But I don't like it," he mumbled, begrudgingly holding the mug in his hands.

"I know you don't, but you're going to have to deal with it," you told him, taking his hand and gently pulling him over to the couch. "Now, I'm going to make dinner while you stay here and get some rest," you told him, pushing him down.

You draped a blanket over him, making sure he was all cozy before kissing him on the forehead. As much as Charles was cute when he was sick, when he got sick, he got sick. And this time, he had a horrendous cold. 

He relied on you for everything, whether it be getting him dressed in the morning, to the simple things like getting him a glass of water. It was a hell of a good job he wasn't driving for another week, giving him plenty of time to recover. 

"I don't need dinner, I just want you," he complained, pulling his arms out of the blanket and holding them out to you. "You need to eat, Charles," you smiled, dodging him as he tried to grab you. "This isn't fair," he pouted, his flushed cheeks and ruffled hair adding to the ultimate picture. 

"Life isn't fair, darling," you smiled, going back to the kitchen to get started on a classic chicken soup. It was a staple for any person who had a cold, and Charles was no exception. You heard a huffed sigh from Charles, as you heard the muffled thud of him falling sideways onto the couch.

After around fifteen minutes, you heard the sound of shuffling behind you. "You OK, my love?" You called out, not turning to look at whatever he was getting up to behind you. You didn't receive a response, you just felt arms wrap around your waist and a head on your shoulder. 

"Can you come and sit with me for a bit? Dinner can wait," he sniffled, pressing himself into your back as much as he could. Charles was still wrapped up in his blanket, but he still wasn't as comforted as he could have been with you. 

"I won't be long, go and sit down and get comfy," you told him, still setting things into the pot, ready to go on the stove. "But I need you to be comfy, baby" he whined, burying his face into your neck as his breath was warm on your skin. 

"I promise, I will be with you once I'm done with this," you said, feeling him grip onto you even tighter. "I'll just stay here until you're done," he said, resting more of his weight onto you. You knew he was stubborn, so you were fine with just leaving him there. 

You stepped to the side to grab something out of the fridge, and you heard a groan come from him as he was detached from you for a split second. "Amour, you've gotta tell me when you move," he told, resuming his position of being clung to you like a turtle shell. 

"OK, darling, OK," you smiled, leaning back into his embrace. "Left in one, two, three," you counted down, before the both of you took a step left in unison. You felt him smile against your neck, clearly liking the system you had going. 

"I'll let that warm through, then dinner is served," you said, spinning in his arms and marveling at the sight of him, all wrapped up in his blanket. "I feel like shit, baby," he groaned, leaning forward and resting his head on your shoulder again. 

You could hear how blocked his nose was, and there was nothing you could do to help him. "Do you want a tissue?" you asked as he sniffled again. 

"Yeah, please," he nodded, and you went to the bathroom to grab him one. As you took your first step, he grabbed your hand and walked with you. He didn't want to be without you for a second on a normal day, but when he was sick, he got clingy and he needed physical contact with you at all times. 

"We can go and sit now," you said, as he took your hand again and you took him to the couch. You allowed him a minute to get comfortable, before sitting down beside him. As soon as you sat down, he wrapped his arms around your waist and resting all of his weight onto you. 

"I feel much better already," he mumbled, a dazed smile on his face. As long as he had you, it didn't matter how sick he was or how ill he felt, he would be happy. "I'm glad you do," you smiled, spotting the undrunk mug of now cold tea still sat on the coffee table. You should have known he wouldn't drink it. 

"I'm going to go and serve dinner, and I will be back in no more than two minutes," you said, trying to shimmy out of his grasp as it tightened around your body. "I'll be counting, and if you're not back in two minutes, I'm coming to get you," he said, and you knew he was serious. 

Well, he was trying to be serious. His reddened cheeks and nose and nasally voice made it hard for you to take him properly seriously. "OK," you smiled, ladling the soup into bowls and bringing it to Charles.

"You were on 115 seconds, so you got away with that one by the skin of your teeth," he grinned, taking the bowl from you. "This is amazing, thank you," he smiled, spooning small mouthfuls of the liquid into his mouth. 

"No problem, my love," you said, sitting down. Charles nestled himself into your side again, still sipping away at your soup. When you were both done, you tried to take his bowl to go and wash it up. "Can you do that tomorrow?I just want you with me," he asked, looking up at you with those glassy green eyes that you could never say no to.

"OK, I can do that," you agreed, putting the bowls down on the coffee table and sitting back beside him. Just like clockwork, Charles slotted himself into your side again, and you lightly trailed your fingers up and down his back. 

"I really want to kiss you, but I don't want you to get sick," he groaned, tiredly pouting at you. "You can get me sick if you're going to take care of me," you softly chuckled, moving your hands up to his hair, tangling your fingers into the chocolate strands. 

"I'll always take care of you, no questions asked," he said as if it were an obvious thing. "But, I don't want my baby feeling like this, so I'll restrain myself," he explained as if it were the hardest task that man could ever complete.

"Well aren't you just a hero," you teased and the both of you giggled. 

"I am refraining from kissing the love of my life so that she doesn't have to endure the pain I am in. I am a hero," he laughed, pulling you impossibly closer. 

"You are a hero darling, you are," you reassured, kissing the top of his head. 

"I know," he chuckled, closing his eyes. Having a cold really took it out of him, and he had been following you around your house like a lost puppy all day.  

The next morning, you woke up with a pounding headache and a completely blocked nose. Charles, on the other hand, was energized and fit as a fiddle. "You've given me your cold," you grumbled, sitting up in bed as he looked fresh faced. 

"So you're telling me I could have kissed you that whole time since you were going to get sick anyway?" he asked, sounding nearly annoyed.

"I guess so," you laughed. Charles never failed to make you smile, no matter how ill you may have felt. Without another word, Charles moves closer to you, cupping your cheek with his hand. He gently pulled your face towards him, you lips connecting in the middle. 

"You're going to get sick again," you pouted, wiping your nose with your sleeve as you pulled away from the kiss. "I really don't give a shit," he dismissed, pulling you back in, revelling in the feeling of getting to kiss you again. 

He didn't care that he was definitely going to get sick again, and getting to kiss you was completely worth it. 

A/N - First off, I absolutely adore this one, and I don't tend to like the things that I write, so this is a nice, refreshing change. Also, I won't be posting tomorrow, Friday or Saturday since I'm away, but there is a poll you can vote on for me here. Requests are open, and I love you lots 💖

|masterist|

[slytherinshua]

HUSBAND MATERIAL

summary. things that husband!matthew does that are a perfect example of husband material. genre. fluff. headcanons. warnings. like 1 suggestive line 😭. all the rest of it is just matthew being perfect and adorable tho </3. i probably wrote him a bit ooc BUT OH WELL LIKE I CANNOT MATCH THIS MANS FREAK LEAVE ME ALONE 😞 pairing. husband!matthew x fem!reader. wc. 751. request. requested by anon (totally an anon.... @heavenfilm) a/n. at this point i cannot deny that matthew is my second bias.. so that's great 🧍‍♀️ i hate my life PLEASE WHY DO ZB1 EXIST

EYE CONTACT

He always finds your eyes from across the room. Whether you’re hanging out with friends or alone at home doing separate tasks, Matthew always scans the room to find where you are. He’ll give you a smooth smile or a wink once he knows he has your attention. No matter how many times he does it, it always manages to summon butterflies in your stomach. It’s mostly another excuse for him to be flirty with you, but he also does it so he can check up on how you’re feeling. He’s always been good at reading your emotions from your face, and he always wants to know if you were ever feeling uncomfortable or down in any way. Matthew always makes sure to make his way over to you and wipe the frown off your face if he needs to.

SELFIES

He will always send you selfies throughout the day. You know exactly what he’s doing practically every hour of the day, because you’re always texting each other. He’ll update you on schedules or let you know when he’ll be back from the gym. If one or both of you are busy for the majority of the day, Matthew will try to FaceTime you during lunch break. Communication is one of the most important things to Matthew, and making sure you’re updated on his schedule is something he’ll always prioritise. 

GRABBING YOUR WAIST

He loves to grab your waist when you’re walking by. Say he’s sitting on the couch and you were walking past him. He would definitely grab your waist and pull you down onto his lap, having no concern for where you had originally been trying to go. This would, of course, be accompanied by plenty of kisses. Your cheeks or forehead are his favourite places to kiss, but if he’s feeling more romantic, he might go for your neck or hand instead. This man is always clingy, and you’ve had to learn to accept that once he gets his hands on you, he will not let you leave until he’s done peppering kisses to your skin.

DATE NIGHTS

Just because you’ve already tied the knot, doesn’t mean that date nights aren’t a serious ordeal for Matthew. He’ll make sure to book a reservation for a fancy restaurant and wear his best suit. He loves to do all the overly romantic things with you that seem straight out of a romcom. He never forgets to tell you how beautiful you look all throughout the date, and if you were ever unsure of how much he adored you, he would be sure to show you later that night.

PICKUP LINES

Cheesy pickup lines are a Matthew staple, and, as your husband, he definitely doesn’t hold back. He knows he’s yours forever, a promise you made with each other on the day of your wedding, and the thought of it just makes his brain go a little crazy. He’s so in love with you, and, unfortunately, his favourite way of playfully expressing it to you is trying endless pickup lines on you. No matter how corny they are, they always manage to make you giggle, which is exactly the reaction Matthew wants. Even if you hate them, you’re never going to be able to get him to stop using them. He’s a bit too addicted to the cliché one-liners. 

BOUQUETS

He’ll bring you back bouquets when he’s been away almost all day. Since he’s very busy, he can’t often spend all day with you like he wants to. Knowing that whenever you miss him, you can just smell the flowers that he gave you puts his mind at ease. Plus, it gives him extra husband points according to you, so he started making it part of his regular routine. He picked up on what flowers you liked the most after a couple weeks and consistently picks out the prettiest bouquets. 

NIGHT TIME KISSES

Matthew has a special night-time routine with you. It’s not skincare or any other hygiene, but in his mind, it’s just as important. When it’s late at night and you’re both drowsy, Matthew loves to give you soft kisses. He has no ulterior motive with them other than showing you how much he loves you. He’ll start with your hand and make his way up your arm, slow and gentle. He takes extra care with your face, making sure the kisses are as tender as possible. Once he reaches your lips, he’ll practically melt into them— the final thing he needs before he falls asleep with you in his arms. 

↳ zerobaseone taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @okshu,, @chewryy,, @haecien,, @sobun1est,,

@emmylksblog,, @talkingsaxy,, @thesunsfullmoon,, @chenleszone,, @sxmmerberries,,

@talking-saxy,, @cupidslovearrows,, @dimplewonie

[kombuuuu]

yo could you do some domestic spot fluff???? asking for a friend (lie)

Spotty dog?

Spot x Gen!Reader

“This feels demeaning.” “It’s not! Look he’s cute!”

hes so adorable h my god. 101 dalmatian coded fr

June 28th — Your lovers birthday, and two days away. You woke this morning with a determination you knew both you and him held. To out-do your your last gift. Last Christmas, you had thought you'd won. Showing up to your shared home with a pair of matching shirts — reading "I ♡ My Boyfriend" and one equally matching for him.

Along with a multitude of other small things — all sentimental to your relationship. Like the mug that said "No.1 Bad Guy." or a card detailing how he would never just be the "Villain of the week."

But when he'd pulled out matching crocs, with Jibbitz of a goofy looking Dalmatian for him and a cute Bunny for you?

You had resigned as Loser for the months to come. Not without a cheering victory from your Spotty lover. Now though? A thought had been brewing for months— one that would never make you loser of the gifts ever again. What could possibly out-do a man willing to wear crocs branded with a staple of you on them? And a goofy looking bucket hat with your silly matching shirts?

A dog.

Something he's wanted for a while now, something to take care of. He'd lost everything, his friends, his family. With that much gone, he'd clung to you like a lost child. Mourning the losses he'd faced while cherishing his moments with you — feeling a constant sense of peril when faced with the fact that he *could just lose you too. He wouldn't, though. You would never do that to him. You loved him too dearly to cause him that pain.

—

You watched him slip on a blue coat over his "totally regular civilian" clothes. The complaint leaving his mouth going on deaf ears. He slipped on his left shoe, jumping a bit and tripping over himself before steadying himself on a coffee table. "Do we really have to go out today?—" His face-spot downturned, like a sad puppy.

",—Can't we just sit in and cuddle? We could watch Mean Girls and i'll make the hot chocolate you really like!" "Baby." He whined, Spot rolling into a displeased frown. "Where are we even—" "—Ask one more time." He snorted, pulling his last shoe on and tucking in the laces, then going up to you and leaning down to give your forehead a kiss. "Ready?"

He right about swooned at your domestic tone, admiring the way the softened gold lights highlighted your features. You were everything to him, and just the knowledge you loved him back had him tripping over himself. Falling through spots at the sight of you. "Yeah."

—

Jonn swayed as the bus came to a stop, avidly ignoring the curious glances given by other patrons, and focusing more on holding onto you.

"I'm gonna fall over!" "Maybe if you held the bar, and not me." He looked up at you from his waist bent position, arms wrapped securely around your abdomen, clinging onto you like you were the only person there.

"I don't need another lover baby, you're right here." "It's a pole, John." "And I am a faithful man." You giggled lightly at him and wrapped your free arm around him tighter.

—

"Just step off." "It's high!" John stuttered out his reply, dipping his foot down like he was testing pool water. 'I'll just—" He turned around, opening a spot and crawling through it and popping up again next to you. The bus driver gawked at you, paler than the villain walking Brighton's street.

You mouthed a 'sorry' to the poor lady, and grabbed your boyfriends hand, dragging him towards the street of your subject.

"You gonna tell me where we're going yet?" He trailed behind you, getting pulled by his left hand, and tripping over his own feet. Moving in that clumsy kind of dorkiness. 'Nuh uh."

His spot slanted at you, deadpanning. "You're being mysterious— I don't like it."

You side-eyed him, grinning in a glare. "I think it's part of the charm." He dragged his spindly legs farther forward, stepping in front of you and gathering your joined hand against his chest. He walked backwards with you, and his spot widened again. You smiled up at him, continuing on with walking, and waited for him to complain once more.

You hadn't have to wait long. "Are you sure you can't—" "We're here." He stopped walking when you did, spot slanting when he surveyed the shops and stalls around him, trying to read the signs. "a café date?—," He chuckled lightly, chest heaving lightly "'—You know you could have—"

"Not there, baby." You flexed your hands into his, he let one of his drop, and linked your fingers with his— squeezing your palm in interest.

You turned towards the animal rescue centre, giving your lover a mischievous grin and stepped beside him to open the door.

—

The spotted dalmatian looked up at you, glossy and doe eyed.

You cooed at it through the glass, the puppy wagging it's tail at the high pitched voice you were giving him.

"How come you never talk to me like that?" Your boyfriend had his hands on your shoulders, leaning on your crouched form and looking down at the small dog below him.

"Do you want me to?" You watched his reflection through the glass as he contemplated, spot shifting forms until it settled on a stretched thin line. "No." You snorted and continued sweet talking the puppy.

The dog-keeper smiled happily at the interaction between you and the small puppy.

"Would you like to take him outside?"

You turned your head towards her and nodded your head, sounding a pretty please — you put your hands on your knees and pushed up, standing straight again.

You turned to your lover, standing up on your toes, you smoothed your hands over his cheeks and giving his nose a little kiss.

"This feels demeaning." He pouted at you, hands grabbing at your coat.

You giggled lightly, resting the side of your face on his chest.

"It's not!," you gestured to the adorable puppy ",Look he's cute!"

John considered the tiny dog, slacking a bit under you, and conceding. "Yeah, yeah— whatever." You jumped up and gave his jaw a quick peck. "Exactly!"

You ran towards the back door, leading to the puppy playground.

Your lover called out to you— "I better still be your favourite Spot!"

"My number one, baby!" You called back.

He huffed despite his spot melting into a heart.

—

Two days later, when he woke up to a plethora of silly gifts, topped with adoption papers and a pink bow — He begrudgingly gave away his title.

—

+ bonus!!!

"You're just the most handsome spotty boy, aren't 'ya!" A squealing voice followed by a small 'ruff' caught your attention. You closed the door softly, and sneakily dropped your keys in the bowl, and snuck into your living room.

The sight of your loving husband cradling the puppy to his chest as he danced to an unheard tune greeted you. You smiled to yourself, biting your finger and watching him for a moment.

He spun slowly, and when his sight landed on you, he froze. He quickly, albeit gently, placed the small thing back onto the couch. The puppy rolling over and smiling up at you.

John cleared his throat, a closed fist to his throat, and after putting his hands on his hips to "act cool", he spoke.

"His name is The Dot."

You giggled behind your hand, going up and kissing his cheek, not before you pet Dot in passing. "Next time we're adopting a kid."

His spot widened and slid into a heart, blush coating his cheeks.

"And you're not naming them."

He laughed.

[bloodywickedlips]

Masks and surprises pt2

Summary: After leaving Spencer in bed and running out, things are awkward at the office. But Spencer isn't done yet. MDNI!!

To say that the case was awkward would be an understatement. Worried looks from the team when my bruises peaked out and not to mention trying to avoid spencer and every time our eyes met I felt my cheeks light up and my thought drift off to that night.

We were back at the bureau and everyone was silently filling in their needed forms, just when you finished and went to staple the papers together I heard an empty click and inwardly groaned. I got up an made my way to the supply office to grab staples and gasped as I heard the door click behind me.

Turning around I saw Spencer leaning against it with his hands in his pants pockets. “Spencer you scared me, do you need anything? I just needed staples as I ran out” I rambled out and gulped as he stood up and walked slowly over to me.

“Turn” he said and I frowned up at him and shook my head “Turn? Turn for what?” I asked and watched as his mouth pulled into a smirk. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and laid them over my hips, where he proceeded to turn me around so I was facing the shelve.

“Spencer what are you…” “No no, shhhhhh” he said while interrupting me I bit my lip to keep quiet and turned my neck to the side as I felt his breath fan over my exposed neck and then shuddered as he laid a kiss on one of the healing bruises he had left behind.

His hands still being on my hips pulled me back into his own and I felt his hard member pushing up against my skirt I wore for the day.

“I am only going to ask once, do you want to leave?” he asked huskily and I could do nothing but shake my head.

“Good girl” he whispered and I felt his hands move downward until it had the hem of my skirt, he pulled it up slowly until it was bunched around my waist and my lace black panties were fully exposed.

“You will keep quiet, unless your safe word is needed okay?” he asked me and I turned my neck to look at him.

“Yes spencer” I replied and gasped as he pulled my head back by my hair. “I said quiet, and it’s sir” he said and I felt myself clench around nothing, desperate to be filled by him again.

I felt his fingers run over my lace covered folds and had to bite my lip not to moan out at the sensation.

“Soaked already princess?” he hummed out in pleasure as he moved the lace to the side and met flesh to flesh.

I gasped as his finger entered me as the same time he flicked my clit, this went on for a few minutes until I was a quivering mess, only then did he pull his finger out and I wish I hadn’t looked over me shoulder to see him lick his finger clean because that was the most erotic thing I have ever witnessed.

His hand wrapped around my throat as his lips left soft feather like kisses over my neck, I hummed as he sucked on a spot and my eye fell closed at the sensation.

“Remember your safe word?” he asked me and I nodded as I was not allowed to make a sound.

I heard him fumble with his belt and pants and then I felt him take my hands into his own, lifting them up he wrapped my hands around the poles of the shelve for support. His hands skimmed down my sides and I felt him push the lace to the side, with his other hand he teased his cock over my entrance, running it up and down my folds, coating it in my wetness.

I felt him push just the tip in as his hand fell over my mouth and I knew why as he thrusted forward, sheathing himself inside of me all the way. A loud moan came out of my mouth and luckily his hand was covering it, otherwise someone would have heard us.

He hissed as he pulled back and the pushed in again, I felt his forehead fall onto my back as he set a steady pace, I was breathless as I felt the coil inside of me wanting to snap and its as if Spencer read my mind.

“You can cum for me” he said and I whimpered as I came undone, gushing around him while he never broke the steady rhythm.

He picked up the pace as his other hand went to the front of my body where it found my clit and rubbed it in slow hard circles.

Spencer moaned as I clenched around him and I felt him move his hand to grip my hip. He pulled back and slipped out before he turned me around to face him. He hiked one of my legs up around his waist as he pushed back inside making both of us groan out.

My arms went around his neck for support as he set a brutal pace, looking into his eyes I hardly saw any colour as his pupils were blown wide from pleasure.

I moaned as I felt myself get closer to the edge again and spencer’s mouth fell to my own in a bruising kiss. He tasted sweet, like sweet black coffee.

He pulled back and stared into my eyes as he grunted “Cum with me, cum with me now” he growled and as soon as he let the words out I felt my resolve slip and came hard around him, pulsing with every stroke.

Spencer moaned loud and kissed me harshly to silence both of our moans as I felt him pulse inside of me and then I felt the warmth of him.

Our lips stayed locked as he started slowing down and with one last thrust he pulled out, completely breathless. I had to hold onto him as he dropped my leg, they were completely jelly.

Spencer moved my underwear back in place and pulled my skirt down for me.

“Spencer what are we doing?” I questioned and looked up at him in apprehension. He smiled softly at me and laid a quick sweet kiss to my lips.

“Why don’t we discuss that over diner?” he said and it made me smile.

“Yeah sure, tonight?” I asked in return and he nodded and made sure we both looked professional before he opened the door and walked out.

I followed a few seconds later and went to my desk, seeing the papers I groaned realizing I left the staples.

“JJ can I borrow your stapler?” I asked and she frowned at me. “Didn’t you just go to get?” she asked curiously.

“Yup but we are out” I said trying to cover up why I didn’t get any.

Once my papers were handed in I grabbed my handbag and headed to the elevator when I heard a ding from my phone.

‘Be ready at 9, I will pick you up’ the message from spencer read. I smiled and tucked my phone away. “New boyfriend?” Rossi asked at my smiling face and I smirked at him.

“Rossi, I don’t kiss and tell” I said with a laugh and made my way to my car, wondering how the talk over diner would go.

[hinaaspanda]

wait for me, okay? | s.jh

pairing: brother's best friend! so junghwan x fem reader warnings: swearing, alcohol genre: brother's best friend, uni au, fluff!! and a smidge of angst wc: 9.4k

You couldn't help but baby So Junghwan—your brother's best friend who just happened to be one year your junior—all your life. That was, until Junghwan abruptly stopped talking to you once you began high school. You learned to move on eventually, but all your efforts were put to the test in your second year in university when an all grown up Junghwan enrolls in your school!

a/n: hi!! im back with another fic hehe, this time featuring my treasure bias Junghwan! been meaning to post for awhile but real life is so hjsfhdjgfabsjg yk anyways enjoy!!

2013. 07. 10

“Junghwanie? What’s wrong?”

Jungwhan could barely look up at you. You watched the boy’s shoulders slump over as he sat on the wood surface, feet bleakly swinging in the air. Dirt and grass littered and stained his knees and elbows.

“Some older kids took my soccer ball—they called me a twerp, too.” Tears welled up in Junghwan’s eyes. It made your heart sink. You jumped up to sit beside him as Junghwan sniffled, snot running down his nose. “Jeongwoo’s trying to get it back for me.”

Your eyes narrowed, watching the older boys further down the field. Two of them kicked the ball between them, while a third held your twin brother by the head in a rough noogie. Seeing it all made your blood boil, your fists shake. Your mom told you about bullying before; how you should never do it, and how you should always help others if they’re being bullied. Your fists balled up tighter and tighter. You needed to help Junghwan. 

You glanced down at your tiny fists. What could you do? You couldn’t do anything. You were just a weak kid. 

An idea spurred in your mind. You scooted closer to the boy beside you. Fiddling with the pink, frilly fabric, you slowly slid off the elastic hung snug against your wrist Maybe you couldn’t fight off some scary middle schooler, but you could at least do this. 

“Here,” You hovered the pink scrunchie in front of Junghwan, a small smile lining your lips as you faced him. “You can have this. Maybe this will cheer you up.”

Junghwan’s eyes widened. “Your scrunchie—isn’t this your favourite?”

“I know, but it makes me happy—hopefully it makes you happy, too!” A grin stretched across your face. 

Junghwan gulped, head still hanging low. His face flushed into a deep red as his eyes flit back and forth between you and his feet. The redness spread onto the shell of his ear as he hid his face beneath his dirtied forearm. 

“Thanks, y/n.” Junghwan finally smiled, your chest sinking in relief. 

2024. 08. 20

“Did we leave anything in the car?” Jeongwoo’s exhaustion spilled through his voice as he cradled his neck with both hands. 

“Don’t think so,” Sweat beaded from his temples as Junghwan hunched forward, gently dropping the cardboard box at his feet. He straightened up, using a forearm to wipe his forehead, pushing back his hair in the process. Junghwan turned to you, an awkward smile lining his lips. “Did you see anything, y/n?”

“Nope.” you pursed your lips, fiddling with a loose piece of tape on one of Junghwan’s miscellaneous boxes—a box you sat on as you unloaded Junghwan’s belongings into his new dorm. 

“Thank fuck,” Jeongwoo heaved a very sigh before plopping onto Junghwan’s new bed, treating it like his own.

So Junghwan—your brother’s best friend, and the youngest of you three—was on his way to begin a new chapter in his life; university. And now, Junghwan was moving to an entirely different city in order to attend university; your university, to be exact. 

He was moving away from his best friend, and moving closer to you—a peculiar set up, considering how far you two had drifted within the past few years. 

So Junghwan was a staple in your life during your childhood. It was you, him, and your brother against the world. The three of you didn’t need anyone else as you went on your daytime adventures to the neighbourhood playground; spending your measly allowance on snacks and sweets from the convenience store down the road from your homes; running away from the dreaded reality of chores and homework. 

Even if the boys were closer, it didn’t stop you from cherishing your friendship with Junghwan; You’d always tag along whenever Jeongwoo would visit his house, you'd bring extra snacks to school just for him. He felt the same, always welcoming you with a warm smile. You babied him, spoiled him silly. He was a year your junior, after all—how much he contrasted against your mischievous, prankster brother didn’t help, either. He was the only one of your brother’s friends you genuinely cared for. 

Once you entered highschool, however, the distance between you two only grew. Junghwan talked to you less, reserving all his attention to girls in his class and your own brother. Soon enough, the childhood trio you grew up with began to dissolve, fade away—leaving the infamous duo, and you in its wake. 

You decided to just shrug it off, opting to focus on your own life, your own friendships. Maybe he got tired of you. Maybe it was just a part of growing up.  

Maybe you were just the girl who babied him too much.

Which brings you back to the present, in which you were helping Junghwan move into his university dorm. Not because you were friends, but because you so happened to be the only one in the area. 

“Think I’m gonna head out.” Jeongwoo abruptly huffed out, shaking you back to reality. In one swift movement, Jeongwoo slid his car keys off the wood of the desk and looped them around his finger. Rising up at the foot of Junghwan’s mattress, Jeongwoo spun the clanking metal around before catching it with the rest of his hand. Junghwan followed suit, arms automatically up and out for your twin brother. 

You watched as the boys hugged and said their goodbyes. You couldn’t help but smile at the heartwarming sight. For second, it made you forget about this very very awkward set up. 

“Bye, loser,” Jeongwoo hummed into the crook of your neck as you hugged your brother goodbye. You glanced up, your eyes making contact with Junghwan’s frame. Your eyes trail up, noticing Junghwan’s eyes flit away from what looked like your direction, and his adam’s apple erratically bobbing up and down. You furrow your brows, taking note of the redness spreading over the curve of Junghwan’s ear. 

With a slam of the door, Jeongwoo was gone—and only then did your entire body freeze. 

You and Junghwan stood stagnant in the middle of his cramped dorm room. Awkward silence filled the air—filling your lungs and suffocating your chest. That's what you told yourself, anyway. You totally weren’t finding excuses to not talk to the boy you haven’t talked to in years. Totally. 

Only now have you gotten a proper chance to really look at Junghwan; really capture how much he's changed since you last saw him. This was probably his third growth spurt by now, with the way his figure towered over you. You studied the way his chestnut hair fell gently below his eyes, and how it was parted not at the middle, but slightly to the left. You caught a few glimpses of his broad shoulders—his built frame peeking through his campus sweater. You pinched yourself. Who cares if Junghwan grew up a little?

You cleared your throat. No. No matter how awkward all this was, how rocky your history was; you still needed to be strong, reliable. Junghwan was still your junior, after all. 

“So, you excited?” you wanted to slap yourself. What kind of question was that?

“Yeah,” Junghwan hummed a chuckle, maybe out of pity. You weren’t sure. “A little nervous, though.”

“Why? ‘Cause of classes?” You were just trying to make conversation, but maybe a part of you was concerned. Old habits die hard, anyway. 

Junghwan paused for a few long seconds, rubbing the nape of his neck. “Right. Classes.”

Your eyes furrowed at his weird, hesitant tone, but you brushed those thoughts away. You shine a bogus smile his way—the brighter the smile, the more convincing the lie. “Well, you can always ask for help!”

Junghwan hummed another smile—this time softer, more fragile. More genuine. His eyes never daring to let go of your frame. It made you insanely self aware of your own skin, your own being. You were being read like a book; though you doubt it was much of a page turner. You instinctively shield your torso with your crossed arms.

“It’s good to see you again, y/n.”

You stammered over his words, his very unexpected words. “Oh, uh, you too.”

Another blanket of silence fell on top of you, giving you ample time to reset; to compose yourself from the mess you were becoming. You cleared your throat, eyes darting straight towards the window. Junghwan, meanwhile, tucked both hands in his back pockets, eyes doing all they can to avoid your line of sight, as he sucked in air through his pursed lips. 

“I guess I should head out, too—”

Junghwan pivots to you, hurried. 

“Actually—I do have a favour to ask.”

“He asked you for a campus tour?” Your friend Winnie asked before popping a comically large cheeto in her mouth. Her munches and crunches filled the air of your shared apartment as you sunk into the couch—utterly defeated. 

“And I said yes,” You whined into the fabric of your throw pillow. 

Winnie only giggles, popping another chip and munching happily. “Girl, relax. You’re literally the only person he knows right now. Better to go with you than be lost on the first day.”

You grumble. You hated how level-headed she was. “But everything’s gonna be so awkward. We haven’t talked in years—”

“It’s only awkward if you make it awkward,” Winnie shrugs. 

You could only groan. Winnie was right, you were being dramatic. So what if So Junghwan suddenly trudged back into your life, after leaving without a trace. You should be totally normal about this. 

You slap yourself back to reality as you roll your limp body over, finally catching your breath after covering your face with the pillow. You flit your phone open, fiddling with the first arbitrary app you come across. Winnie does the same before her voice peaks up again. 

“So, what about Eunhyeok?”

Your ears barely drown out the looped audio of the internet video plastered on your phone screen as your mind draws to a blank. “...Who?” 

Winnie’s eyebrow cocks to the sky. “Eunhyeok. The guy from social econ last year? Mr. ‘first talking stage in forever?’”

Your eyes widen. Right. Your mind has been so occupied with the new school semester starting and helping Junghwan move cities that you completely forgot about your date next week with Kwon Eunhyeok —a guy you only shared 

one (1) class with before finding him on a dating app last month. You heave a sigh, leaning back on the plush of the couch as more weight has been added to the boulder of burden on your shoulders. 

“Don’t tell me Mr. "Freshman’s’ got you all distracted, now.” Winnie teased, a stupid grin contaminating her face. You roll your eyes. “Oh, shut up.”

“My girl’s the main character of a love triangle, ooh!” Winnie pestered, belting a laugh as you groaned in response, making your way towards the kitchen. You swing the fridge door open, letting the cool air refresh you as you reach in to grab a can of soda. Maybe that would alleviate the burning rush of your cheeks. 

Would it stop your erratic heart beat, too? 

“Over here is the campus gym,” Winnie jutted her finger towards the building on her right, large windows showcasing the different gym equipment scattered all over the floor. Her arm then pivoted, pointing straight towards the open bed of grass, basking in the afternoon sun. “This is the field—it’s supposed to be where the teams practice, but really students come here when they wanna skip.” 

You and Junghwan, at opposite ends of Winnie's shoulders, laugh timidly. You knew you had to give Junghwan a tour today, but you also knew you needed some kind of assistance. It was the only way you'd come out of this alive, sanity unharmed. So, you let Winnie take the lead, letting yourself hide in the sidelines. 

“That being said, I better not catch you here!” Winnie jabbed a finger towards Junghwan’s chest, to which he responded by holding up both hands in surrender, eyes flitting back to you for a split second. “Yes, ma'am!”

“Hey, y/n!” a voice closely trailed behind Junghwan’s boom of a voice. The voice was faint, as if it was carried and coddled by the wind. Filtered through the breeze. Nevertheless, you could tell it was coming from the direction of the field. Your head shot up towards the air, your eyes landing on a small huddle of guys at the centre of the grass. The one in the middle rolled a soccer ball between his foot and the grass, while the other two kicked at the grass, hands shoved deep in their pockets. As you walked closer to the field, the man in the middle began to look more and more familiar. It was Kwon Eunhyeok. 

Eunhyeok had a cheeky grin plastered on his face as he waved his hand in a ‘come here' motion. “You wanna play?”

You couldn't help but furrow your brows. You've never told him anything about liking or playing sports—because you definitely didn't. “Um…”

“It's 2v2, but we need one more player. Wanna join?” 

You hugged your shoulders, looking around aimlessly. Though really you were just looking for an apt escape. “I dunno—”

“I'll do it.”

Everyone’s heads snapped towards the timid freshman, who’s voice had finally spoken up after staying quiet for an abnormally long time. One hand lazily in the air while the other fiddled with belt loops in his pants. Silence swiftly fogged over the group as the boys looked at each other. 

“You don't have to,” you tried to butt in. You didn't want to bother him with this, nor did you even want to stay out here any longer.

Besides, the idea of Junghwan and Eunhyeok interacting shot a weird feeling down your stomach.

“I’ll be fine,” Junghwan shot a quick yet soft smile at you, and you gulped; his eye smile suddenly making you feel the need to drink water. Slowly, Junghwan slid off the straps of his backpack and dropped it onto the grassy field, his black zip up hoodie quickly following suit. You unfortunately took note of his newly revealed short sleeves—not too tight, yet not too loose—and, now, you really wished you had some water on you.

When you snap back to reality, the boys make their decision, welcoming the freshman into their group easily. “Alright, man. Let’s play!”

The breeze was cold against your skin. 

You sat dead centre of the vast campus quad, knees tucked in against your chest, your chin hammocked on your knuckles as they clung onto your kneecaps. You weren’t exactly sure why you stayed to watch those boys play soccer. Heaven knows you didn’t enjoy it, and Winnie wasn’t even around anymore. Instead, she was allowed to hide away in the safe haven of her evening class. Lucky.

You glance up, eyes latching onto Junghwan, who was currently locked in the game. His back was hunched over as he clung onto his knees, sweat pooling on his shirt. 

You weren’t exactly sure why you stayed, but something in you told you to stay—and your body obeyed like a puppet to its strings, apparently.

Junghwan doesn’t wait long. A few seconds later, he’s back with the main group, tossing the soccer ball and pushing the tall blades of grass beneath it. Nevertheless, your eyes linger— stupidly so. They linger as his hair flies against the wind, brushing entirely away from his face. They watch Junghwan’s broad shoulders practically shining through his supposedly loose t-shirt, the way his back tensed beneath each and every movement. You watch his muscles flex as he ran to the ball. You gulp. Has he been working out that much since you last talked? 

A huge smile swipes across his face, his eyes lost in the crescent moons of his eye smile. Your heart skips a beat. 

You choke. You didn’t find Junghwan attractive, did you? 

You wonder where that cold breeze went. It would’ve been helpful in calming down your skin—which was currently being lit on fire. 

“HEADS!”

The boom of Eunhyeok’s voice shook you to reality *thank god*. The ball had seemingly lost control, soaring through the air like a deadly shooting star. Everyone else had already run to take cover. their arms enveloping their heads in makeshift helmets. All except one; Junghwan, who was now standing still in the middle of  the field, facing you. Too bad the ball was, in fact, heading in his direction. 

THWACK!

The ball struck head first against Jungwhan’s, well, head. The taut rubber smushed Junghwan’s nose, definitely bruising something. It sent the poor freshmen straight to the ground, blades of dead grass shooting up into the sky upon impact. 

The boys only stood around in shock, only taking a few steps towards Junghwan’s body. You, on the other hand, sprinted towards him. You weren’t sure why, but it felt like second nature. You helped the freshman gently sit up into a sitting position, immediately scanning his face and head for prominent and dangerous injuries. Aside from some scratches and light bruising along his cheeks, there was nothing. You rolled out a sigh of relief. 

“Hi,” Junghwan peeked through his fallen bangs, voice soft and timid.

“Hi,” your lips curled into a smile without realising, your mind suddenly forgetting all your recent qualms of late. “I have a first aid kit at my place, should we stop by?”

Junghwan sucked air through his teeth sharply, eyes crinkling shut as he winced from the pain of the ointment. You felt his large hands cling onto your wrists, desperate for you to stop the torture. However, you could tell Junghwan was still restraining himself from using his full strength on you. 

“Ouch!” Junghwan yelped. Again. 

“How does this hurt more than the ball?” 

Junghwan pauses, cheeks suddenly turning rosy. “It burns, okay!”

You only sigh. “I’m almost done, anyway. Just stay still.”

You bickered back and forth. It was odd. This was the most you talked to So Junghwan in over 3 years—but it all felt natural. You weren’t sure why.

After Junghwan finally decided to comply, you finished the last of ointment application, and sealed each wound with a bandaid. Wiping off the excess with a tissue, you let Junghwan go. 

Except he didn’t. He stayed there, face inches away from yours as you sat on the plush of your bed. Your knees rested against his hip; it was the only way you could balance without the use of your hands. You felt his breath graze against your cheek; short and shallow. It reminded you to breathe. Junghwan gazed up at you, his eyes glistened amidst the ebony skyline shining through your bedroom window—never daring to let your eyes go. 

That familiar odd feeling whirled in your stomach again. 

After clearing your chest, you both bounce away from each other, eyes finally severing their connection. Your feet hung off the edge of the bed while Junghwan rested further back on his outstretched arms. You watched as his hand tensed and relaxed, crinkling the fabric of your bedsheets. 

“There,” you muttered meekly. “You’re all good.”

Junghwan stared blankly, grazing a light finger across his newly patched up wounds. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” you purse your lips. 

Long gone was the laid back, relaxed feeling you had earlier. You stood up from the bed, dragging the bedsheet down slightly before packing up the first aid kit and hiding it away in your closet. 

Even now, you're still the girl that babied him too much. 

Junghwan hung his head low, fiddling with his thumbs before slowly lifting his eyes back up to face you. He hesitated for a bit, lips parted before he remembered to take a breath. A deep breath. 

“You still take care of me, huh? Even after all these years.”

Your eyes grow wide at Junghwan’s words. What was he talking about? Was he referring to all those times back when you were kids? Those moments you swore to forget. Those moments that came hurdling back into your stubborn little brain the moment Junghwan enrolled in your university. 

You purse your lips before uttering softly. “I thought you forgot about that.”

Junghwan softly grins, “How could I?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, your heart bouncing beneath your ribs. It makes a nervous leap, getting stuck in your windpipe. What did he mean by that?

“Well, it’s been a while” You kept your eyes on the evening skyline, each apartment light shining like a star in the night. Nevertheless, you watched Junghwan through your peripheral vision. You watched as his eyes finally let go of your frame, his head once again hanging low. 

“It really has,” Junghwans voice didn’t reach past a whisper. 

The room was enveloped in—you guessed it—awkward silence. You’d think you’d build some kind of immunity to it at this point, but that wasn’t the case. You still managed to suffocate. You turn to fully face Junghwan, whose expression turned flat, stoic. He stood up from the bed, bedsheets leaving an imprint of his frame. 

“Maybe we can restart?” He asks

You blink, gulping once more. So Junghwan—the boy you spent your whole childhood with, the boy who disappeared from your life without a trace. The boy you babied too much. So Junghwan wanted a second chance. 

Your mind thought it was crazy. Too bad you never listened to it. 

“Sure.”

“You’re going on a date?” Junghwan asked, sipping on a juice box he insisted he’d pay for as you trudged your way home. Well, your home, to be exact. Junghwan also insisted he’d walk you and Winnie home after all your classes. Seems like Junghwan was taking this second chance thing seriously. 

“Yeah, and guess what?” Winnie chimed in, as preppy as usual—she was always like this when it came to your love life, though there wasn’t much to report. “It’s with that Eunhyeok guy—the one from the field the other day. You remember him?”

Suddenly, Junghwan’s face turns serious, stoic, as his eyes trail the sidewalk. He sipped until bubbles popped inside his straw. “Yeah. I do.”

You were sandwiched between their two figures, quietly sipping your soda. You raise your hand and wave it frantically. “Can we stop talking about it? It’s not a big deal.”

“Tell me you’re at least a little excited about it?” Winnie tilted her head, her bangs falling over her long eyelashes. You bit your lip, glancing over at Junghwan, whose wide eyes suggested he was curious about this, too. 

“Yeah, I—AH!”

Your undone shoelaces saved you the burden of having to lie. The strings scattered across the pavement, landing right in front of the area you were going to take your next steps. The front of your sneaker had clung onto your other shoe’s laces, causing you to trip on your own two feet—like an idiot. You only wince, squeezing your eyes shut to brace for impact before you hit the ground. 

You’d hit the ground. Any day now. 

But you didn’t. Instead, you felt a force envelope your shoulders and back. Your head hung in the air, your eyes meeting a distorted view of the clouds above. You tense your neck, scouring to find this mysterious force that had caught you out of thin air. A part of you wishes you didn’t. 

Nevertheless, you open your eyes to a worried Junghwan. His arms cradled you against his chest, a hand tightly gripping your bicep. He’s got you hanging in thin air, in a way that resembles tango dancers at the end of their performance. His face was inches away from yours, puffs of his air blowing onto your cheeks—your very warm cheeks.  

“You alright?” Junghwan asked, rather hastily. 

Your mind drew to a complete blank before you could respond. “Uh, um—yeah. I’m good.” 

Junghwan heaved a sigh of relief before standing you up straight—lord knows you were too dazed to do it yourself—and loosening his grip around your shoulders. He avoided your gaze, face painted a blaring red as he dipped down to your feet. Junghwan proceeded to loop his fingers around your loose laces, tying them into pretty double knots; safe and sound. 

“Be careful, okay?” Junghwan gazed up at you, his adam's apple bobbing up and down and his eyes shaking. Your heart was quaking in the confines of your rib cage, like a feral beast trying to escape. You weren’t sure if it was from the near fall from your trip, or if it was from your heart being utterly, terribly, stupid. 

The library was, uncharacteristically enough, loud. 

It was the table beside you, lined completely with utter buffoons of freshman. They had the audacity to play a chaotic card game amidst you and other university students who were desperately cramming for their midterms. They didn’t have a shred of remorse, either. Not even bothering to glance around at the students who were currently giving them death stares. The louder they’d holler or slap their hand on the table, the closer you were to seeing red. 

You grumbled in your seat, thumb clicking at your pen profusely as you held it centimetres before your noticeably blank notepad page. 

“Woah okay, don’t kill them, please,” Junghwan’s voice was laced with worry, understandably—you did consider it for a bit. Junghwan sat beside you, his once laid back figure now hunched forward, his big hand clung onto your tensed wrist. The warmth of his skin was enough to calm you down, apparently. Your head pivots back to Junghwan’s direction, your eyes immediately linking up with his. His face glistened under the golden hour sunlight, acting like the spotlight in a theatre with how it only shined on him. You watched his hair burn a bright auburn, his eyes carried in them a swirl of stars. 

You gulped at the sight, completely forgetting about those annoying freshmen. Or anyone else, for that matter. 

“Whatever,” your hand slips from his grasp quickly, though your skin felt a twinge of coldness, loneliness, after the fact. You clear your throat. “How do you deal with them? I think I’d lose my mind.”

Junghwan gulped, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down. A finger tapped at the headphone set that hung snug around his neck. “With these. They’re noise cancelling.”

You turn your head to the front, avoiding Junghwan’s gaze after staring at his oddly chiselled jaw for longer than wanted. “Lucky.”

You glanced back at the rowdy table, still stagnant and unmoving from their loud and aggravating presence. Sure they were still ear piercing, but now you could barely hear them over your beating heart, pounding so loud you could hear it in your ears. 

You sensed some rummaging behind you before you turned around, curiosity getting the best of you. Your eyes are met with a sweetly grinning Junghwan as he pulls off his headphones, adjusts their size, and gently slides them on your head. His hand slides off your head, but not before running a finger through your hair. His smile grows wider. “There, now you can focus.”

Your heart skips a beat as your eyes widen. “What—what about you?”

Junghwan ever so softly flicks your nose with his finger. “Quit worrying about me, already. You deserve to study in peace.”

“Oh,” You gulp again, heart still pounding in your chest. “Thanks.”

You did not find So Junghwan attractive. 

You knew it was redundant to say, but you just wanted to make it clear. So Junghwan was just a friend; A friend you had hung out with more than your other friends in your year, by now. You would study together, walk home together—Junghwan insisted the walk back to his dorm didn’t bother him—and even eat out together. You two even developed a new bond over finding new cuisines to try. 

But all that eating out eventually led to near empty wallets, so you suggested an alternative for this afternoon; cooking. It was high time Junghwan learned how to cook for himself, anyway. 

The two of you stood shoulder to shoulder as you guided the poor, lost freshman on how to properly cut vegetables. The final boss? The yellow onion. 

“What happens when it stings too much?” Junghwan whined, one eye practically glued shut while the other peeked open ever so slightly. Though, that eye was too busy swelling in tears. You giggle as you watch him. 

“You’re just supposed to deal with it, really.” You only shrug as an ailed sound emits from Junghwan’s mouth. 

Soon enough, all the torture food preparation was complete, and the two of you pivoted to face your apartment's kitchen. You heated a pan on the stove, drizzled on oil, and got to work. Junghwan’s head perched over your shoulder, silently watching. 

Thankfully, your silence wasn’t awkward anymore. It was comfortable, easy. You didn’t think it possible, but you and Junghwan were slowly going back to how things were; going back to being best friends. Sparks popped in your chest at that thought.

“Oh—your date’s tomorrow” Junghwan analysed, eyes flitting back and forth between you and the calendar on the corner of your fridge. “How are you feeling?” 

Though a part of you was thankful for the reminder, you couldn’t help but groan. You were already tired of Winnie’s constant berating concerning the first man to go on a date with you since your failed talking stage in your first year—did Junghwan really have to do the same? “I dunno, haven’t given it much thought.”

“Alright, you player,” Junghwan teased, jabbing your shoulder. Maybe he was spending too much time with Winnie; she could be a bad influence on him. “Just another guy on your roster, huh?”

You roll your eyes to the sky—or, really, the exhaust fan above your stove. “Oh, shut up. Don’t act like you and my brother weren’t with different girls every month back in highschool.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Junghwan scoffed. 

“Don’t play dumb,” you jabbed back as you flung your spatula, unaware of the pieces of vegetables flying in the air. “Just ‘cause we didn’t talk, doesn’t mean I didn’t see things!”

Junghwan lifted his hands in the air, like a criminal caught red handed. “I swear! I didn’t do any of that.”

You turned to face him. “Then who were all those girls you'd hang around with on campus?”

Junghwan scratched the nape of his neck. “They were just friends… I’ve actually never dated, or even kissed a girl before.” 

You gulp. Had your perceptions all been wrong? You were positive the reason why Junghwan stopped talking to you in the first place was to make room for more girls in his life. “Really?” 

“Yeah,” Junghwan fiddled with the hem of his apron. “I just never knew how it worked—too lazy to learn.”

You turned off the stove, your brain switching onto a particular idea. It might’ve been sick and twisted, but maybe it was just what you needed. 

“What if I teach you?”

Junghwan’s eyes practically spilt out of their sockets. You didn’t blame him; what you said was crazy. But you had your reasons. You needed to prove that you didn’t find So Junghwan attractive; that you didn’t wanna cross the boundary of best friends with him; that those past moments of your heart slipping up were none other than random flukes—a way for your heart to tell you your love life was too stagnant. 

“You sure?”

You stared up at him, gulping. “I’m no player, but I’ve had my fair share of kisses… maybe we can practise.”

Your words dwindled to the end once you realised how crazy you sounded. Gosh, if you didn’t know any better, you sounded like you were hitting on him. Your stomach churned at the thought. Your cheeks flared up in response. But it didn’t matter, Junghwan was your friend. You were doing this for a reason. For clarity. For closure. 

You did not find So Junghwan attractive. 

Junghwan was almost as red as the tomatoes in your frying pan. “O-okay.”

You were kissing So Junghwan.

Or more accurately, Junghwan was kissing you. 

As you stood in the middle of your living room, basking in the afternoon sunlight, your lips melted into one—easily, you observed. You also observed how soft Junghwan’s touch was. His hand trailed from the shell of your ear after brushing your hair away from your face, to cupping the side of your cheek. The graze of his fingertips sent chills through your skin. His fingers lifted your head ever so slightly, combating your towering height difference. His other hand didn’t even flinch as it stayed at his side; in fear of crossing an unwanted boundary. An odd swirl spun at the pit of your stomach. Your heart tripped and face planted on its two feet. Multiple times.

Wasn’t Junghwan supposed to be bad at this? 

Overwhelmed, you couldn’t muster much movement on your end. All your measly mind could think of was to cling onto his broad shoulders, which were hunched over to reach your frame closer—practically enveloping you. You hated how gentle he was, considering how strong you knew him to be. It was doing weird things to your mind. You clung onto the fabric of his sweater; desperate and confused.  

What was Junghwan doing to you?

After what seems like centuries, your lips finally plop apart. Your figures hesitate to move apart, your breaths both short and shallow—he quite literally took your breath away. Your eyes naturally link with his, a red string of fate hanging in the balance. You really hoped Winnie wasn’t gonna come home anytime soon. A sudden chime of someone’s phone catapulted you back to reality as you jumped away from him. Your eyes avoided his gaze like the plague as your cheeks burned so hot you could cook more of that dish you made earlier. And don’t even get started on your heart beat, your erratic, animalistic heart beat. 

Maybe your little test wasn’t so smart, anymore.

“You–uh,” you stuttered out like an idiot. “You’re pretty good…”

You glance back at Junghwan, who’s red stained cheeks and ears, paired with eyes practically glued to your wooden floor, suggest that he was just as much of a mess as you were. At least there was that. Junghwan clung onto the nape of his neck like a life force. “R-really?”

So Junghwan was the death of you. “Y-yeah. You don’t need my help.”

Awkward silence, your old friend. 

“I–uh,” Junghwan’s voice didn’t reach past a whisper. “I should probably go.”

“Okay,” you replied, grateful for the leeway he was giving your heart. Though, an empty feeling began crawling up your chest, too. You watched as Junghwan scurried out the door, the boom of it shutting barely overpowering the crazy thumps of your heart beat. 

So Junghwan was so cooked. 

He stumbled out of your apartment complex, dazed and confused. His heart clawed profusely at his ribcage, like a feral animal—just itching to jump out and splat on the road. He clenched his chest, lost at a shortness of breath. He thought back to your kiss; your supple lips locked against his. He thought about how you melted into his chest, how your skin felt so warm, it was like he was dreaming. Maybe he didn’t wanna wake up. Scratch that—he wasn’t just thinking about all that. The image was tattooed in his brain, forever. 

He’s done it. He’s officially gone too far. 

Junghwan wasn’t supposed to expose himself so…idiotically. He planned to be more composed, untroubled. Was he just supposed to confess his life long crush on his best friend like a loser? 

You were the love of So Junghwan’s life, the apple of his eye. He’s loved you since you were kids. He loved everything about you; from the way you lit up any room with your smile, to the way you’d always put others before yourself every chance you got. You had him wrapped around your finger; anything you did gave him butterflies. He’s always believed he hit the jackpot the moment he met you.

He also believed he absolutely fumbled that jackpot the moment he distanced himself from you. The more time he spent with you, the more he realised you’d never love him back. You were too busy babying him. In your eyes, Junghwan would never be your equal. So, by the time he entered highschool, he opted to give up. 

Foolishly, he thought he could still keep your friendship as he tried to get over you. Quickly, however, he learnt that it wasn’t possible. Your constant, beautiful presence always sent a punch to his gut, a guilty feeling squeezing at his heart. So he finally decided, it was time to end your friendship, once and for all, even if it meant hurting you in the process. Lord knows it tore his heart into pieces, too.

It also didn’t even work. 

Junghwan didn’t know if it was a blessing or a curse that he got accepted into the university you happened to be attending. Sure, maybe he was the fool for applying there in the first place last fall, but still. The one thing he did know was that he’d lose his mind the moment he’d see you again. He knew he’d combust the moment you’d look at him with your beautiful eyes one more time. 

Nevertheless, something in his resolve had switched. His chest puffed out, his heart beat faster. With the years of distancing himself from you behind him, Junghwan was a changed man. And he was going to prove it to you. 

Or he was, until he completely fumbled the bag just now.

Trudging home with heavy shoulders, Junghwan rummaged in his sweater pocket, fingers easily finding what it needed to. He pulls out a pink, frilly scrunchie, grazing the soft fabric between his fingertips. The elastic could barely fit over just two of his large fingers, but that didn’t stop him from taking the scrunchie everywhere he went. 

It was the scrunchie from the day he first fell for you, after all.

“Fuck,” Junghwan huffed.

“Sorry I’m late!” Eunhyeok’s voice peaks in your ears, causing you to look up from your phone. He walks up to you, holding a lazy but apologetic hand up in the air. You glanced back at your phone quickly; the time was 3:58—around 30 minutes past your originally discussed meeting time.  

“No worries! I just got here,” You lied anyway. That was custom for first dates, apparently. 

You were meeting up with Kwon Eunhyeok for your very important, once in a lifetime—according to Winne, anyway—date. It wasn’t that you weren’t excited for today. The idea of going on a date for the first time in what felt like ages did excite you, slightly. You allowed yourself to get dolled up a little, too—dawning your favourite maxi shirt and a bow that completely your half up-half down hair look.  

It’s not like you weren’t excited for this date—there were just other things that stubbornly occupied your mind at the moment. 

You didn’t expect Junghwan’s kiss to stay so vivid in your mind for so long. You allowed yourself maybe 30 minutes to properly freak out about how good he kissed you; how he kissed you in a way that made you gut wrench, your head spin. How he kissed you in a way that makes you rethink everything. You were only allowed 30 minutes for all of that. But when you woke up this morning with So Junghwan running in your mind, you knew you were fucked. 

You thought back to the past month with So Junghwan. The boy you grew up with, your brother’s best friend. The man that, in the past month, showed a completely new side of himself, and it was making you go crazy. 

Were you on a date with the wrong person?

“Where we headed first?” Eunhyeok asked, his gaze locked on something behind you as he shoved both hands down his pockets. You gave him a quizzical look. “I thought you said you’d plan everything? I didn’t give it much thought…”

“Oh—right.” Eunhyeok’s voice grew quiet. He picked at his lips, swiping at his phone screen. “Well, I’ll look up some places, I guess. ” 

You wished you could roll your eyes right now. 

After stopping underneath a well shaded tree to look for nice places in the area, the two of you finally went on your way. While your time was eventful—you visited a variety of places, including the trendy and overpriced coffee shop, the park, and dinner at a place he couldn’t stop talking about—you couldn’t muster up any feeling of excitement. Sure you had fun, but this seemed like nothing more than a simple platonic day out. And judging off of Eunhyeok’s laid back, borderline bored attitude, you could guess he felt the same. 

Besides, you still couldn’t shake Junghwan out of your mind. 

The sky was painted a deep orange as you and Eunhyeok walked to the train station. Ribbons of white and pink scattered across the sky, twinges of blue laced at the corners. It was beautiful. You wished Junghwan was here to see it. 

You and Eunhyeok said your goodbyes as you hopped on your respective trains. You weren’t getting a text back from that guy, you knew it. And yet, that didn’t seem to bother you. 

Junghwan was seeing you today. 

Though, it was gonna be painfully one sided—because he wasn’t going to meet with you, no. Instead, he was joining a very hyper Winnie in stalking your date with that Eunhyeok guy. 

To say Junghwan was sceptical about Winnie’s insane and creepy idea would be a deep understatement. FIrstly—and more prominently—he wasn’t even sure if this was legal, let alone a good thing to do. What if someone saw him? Or worse, what if you saw him? Lord knows he's anything but ready to see you after the kiss that stole his breath. Nevertheless, he tagged along. That Eunhyeok guy rubbed him the wrong way, and it was an excuse to see you in a cute outfit. 

“You sure this is a good idea?” Junghwan whispered, face practically smushed into the decorative bush outside the train station. 

“It’s fine, don’t worry,” Winnie whisper-shouted back, her whole figure enveloped by the same bush. “I think I see her!”

Junghwan’s heart pounded in his chest, though he wasn’t sure if it was from being caught by the cops, or by you. God, what if you thought he was some weirdo after this? He’d pass away, actually. 

He took note of what you were wearing; the maxi shirt that made you look like a princess, and the hair bow that completed your royal look. It warmed his heart knowing you still liked hair accessories just as you did as a kid. 

Gosh, you looked beautiful.

Junghwan’s eyes latched onto a figure of a dude slowly jogging to you. His words were inaudible, but the view of your smile in response was enough to make Junghwan’s blood boil. What was so funny? Junghwan gulped. He knew he was funnier, there was no doubt about it. You didn’t even need to go on this date in the first place. 

Winnie adjusted her stance, causing a branch from the bush to move. The Eunhyeok guy’s eyes snap towards his direction as Jungwhan freezes like a deer in headlights. Was he fucked?

Eunhyeok’s eyes linger in the air before finally reaching Junghwan’s. Like an idiot, Junghwan stared back. He was fucked. 

Eunhyeok’s eyes finally flit back to you, mumbling something inaudible again before the two of you walk away. Jungwhan and Winnie follow suit, Junghwan’s heart still pounding in his chest. 

—

“So, how's Junghwan?” Jeongwoo’s voice chimed through the phone. You purse your lips. As if you haven’t been thinking about him enough. You clear your throat, gracing your twin brother with a response. “He’s, uh, good.”

There was a pause on Jeongwoo’s line. “Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, no, it’s all good.” You realise your double usage of the word ‘good’ makes you sound even more suspicious. 

“What, you guys kiss or something?” Jeongwoo teased, his peculiar words sending your heart into full attack mode. Your heart leaped from your chest, your eyes spilling from your sockets. Your mind flits back to the image of Junghwan, his hand snug against your cheek as he stole your heart like a ruthless burglar.

“WHAT? NO!”

“Jesus, calm down,” Jeongwoo whined. “I was only joking, relax!”

You stayed silent. 

“Unless something actually happened?”

No. Nothing happened. Only So Junghwan, who came crawling back to your life after years, turning into a whole new person, and was turning your world upside down. Junghwan didn’t do anything—he just manages to swirl butterflies in your stomach with his handsome smile and chivalrous ways, make your heart skip multiple beats with his cute jokes and even cuter habits, take your breath away as he kissed you like a man who's been starved to near death.

Nothing happened. You just fell in love with your—and your brother’s—best friend. You heave a sigh. It felt freeing—finally admitting to it.

But it didn’t matter. He was still your best friend. You would die before you told him the truth.

“I gotta go, Woo.” Overwhelmed, you suddenly mumble into the phone. You barely hear his confused reaction as you click the phone off, chest sparking with adrenalin you haven’t felt in awhile. You trudge to your bathroom, in desperate need of a splash of water to refresh yourself and your mind. 

You can’t tell Junghwan. No matter what.

In the corner of your eye, however, you see Winnie skip up towards you a bright smile on her face. 

“Hey,” Winnie twirled a strand of hair between her fingers. “Found a couple packs of beer in the pantry. You wanna drink tonight?”

“Sure” You shrug. You definitely needed it after the month you had.

“Great! I’ll invite Junghwan, too!” Winnie cheered before skipping away. 

Great. 

Junghwan didn’t know you were a light-weight. 

But here you were, sprawled out on your living room couch, with a rosy face as multiple (3) beer cans scattered over the floor. Your head barely grazed his thigh, your hair spreading across his lap, each strand following the creases of his jeans. Junghwan couldn’t help but smile; you were the cutest drunk person he's ever seen.

Maybe for tonight, he can forget about fucking up any chance he had of staying your friend.

“Oh god,” Concerned, Winnie hid her mouth behind her hands as she looked over at you. She looks back up at Junghwan. “I’m so sorry—I didn’t think she’d get like that.”

Junghwan waved a lenient hand. “It’s all good.”

“She’s probably still grovelling over Eunhyeok. Poor girl got ghosted.” Winnie muttered. The mention of his name left a bitter taste in Junghwan’s mouth, but at least he was out of the picture. Winnie shot up from the couch, shuffling to the kitchen. “I’ll see if we have anything to fix…that.”

Junghwan pursed his lips, gazing at how your eyelashes swooped beneath your eyelids so beautifully. There’s nothing to fix. Even as a drunk mess—you were still perfect.

Winnie soon disappeared into the pantry, and Junghwan felt some shuffling at the edge of his thigh. He glanced down, watching your figure shift around your area of the couch. You began by slowly turning over, your cheeks squished against the backrest. You then murmured something completely incoherent—like a baby saying their first words. You melted Junghwan’s heart into a lovesick puddle as Junghwan gently brushed the hairs away from your face, taking care of you in any way he knew he could. 

Maybe Junghwan let his guard down too soon. 

You proceeded to messily crawl up a bit, resting your head on Junghwan’s lap. Junghwan’s skin ignited at your touch. He gulped, bullets of sweat running down his forehead. What were you doing? Were you trying to kill him?

You flopped over so that your flushed, rosy face was facing up at him. “Junghwanie.” 

Junghwan blinked. “Yeah?”

“Mmm I think I’m in trouble,” you mumbled some more. Junghwan knew you were just speaking gibberish, but a part of him couldn’t ignore you. 

“I think I’m falling for you.”

Junghwan choked. 

“There’s something about you lately… you’re so caring and sweet—but like more than before. And then we kissed, and it made me more confused. No one’s kissed me like that before…”

You fell asleep before Junghwan could compose himself, your soft snores filling up the living room. He could only scoff. While the walls of your apartment closed in on him, his heart jumped in and out of his chest, and reality as he knew it began to shatter—you were peacefully asleep. 

Junghwan gripped at his chest, which was bubbling up with adrenaline. You liked him back? He had a chance?

“I like you, too,” Junghwan whispered back. “More than you’ll ever know.”

“I’m back!” Winnie chimed in, catapulting Junghwan back to reality. 

No, no, no. This wasn’t good. None of this was good. 

I think I’m falling for you. 

Your words from last night replayed in your mind, as if your raging headache from your hangover wasn’t enough torment already. You were pacing back and forth on your living room floor, fingers picking at your lips and eyes quaking side to side. Your heart was popping out of your chest, sweat beaded from your temples. 

Few sips of alcohol and you were off, ruining life long friendships with a single drunken love confession. How stupid were you to let yourself slip up like that? 

“It’s probably fine, y/n” Winnie watched you from the couch, very worried. “You probably didn’t say anything too bad.”

“No.” you mutter, regrettably “I remember what I said.”

“Well, why don’t you go to him?”  Winnie shrugged. How could she be so nonchalant about this? “Talk it through. Who knows? Maybe he feels the same way?”

You stop in your tracks, holding in a scoff. There was no way. He was your childhood best friend. But Winnie was right about one thing. You needed to clear things up. 

You needed to see Junghwan.

“y/n?” Junghwan’s voice was overwhelming with confusion as you stood in the quad, visibly dishevelled and still in your sleepwear. You were lucky you remembered to put on proper shoes. What’s worse? Junghwan wasn’t alone. He—and by proxy, you—was surrounded by other students, presumably his friends. You forgot he hung out with people aside from you. 

“Can we talk?”

“Uh, sure,” Junghwan stuttered before whisking you away, one hand at the small of your back. His touch made your stomach swirl. The two of you stood along the side of the nearest campus building, his tall frame casting a shadow over you. 

“Oh yeah, almost forgot,” Junghwan’s eyes lit up, brows shooting up to the sky.  Slipping his bag off his shoulders, he pulls out a smaller bag before handing it to you. “Made some food for you. Hopefully it helps with the hangover.”

“Thanks,” you gulp. Only Junghwan would think of something like this—something that would make your heart melt to the ground. Nevertheless, Junghwan remembered you’d have a hangover, which meant he remembered how drunk you were last night. 

“I’m sorry about what I said last night!” You suddenly blurt out, head hanging low. “I wasn’t thinking right, clearly, and—”

“What?” Junghwan’s voice was shaky, worried. “You’re taking it back?”

“You’re one of my best friends, Junghwan. What I said wasn’t right. I don’t want to ruin what we have, especially right after I got you back.” You gulp, your words turning sour and bitter on your tongue. Each sentence broke your heart into pieces. You were placing a wall between you and your chance at happiness, after all. 

“What about what I want?” Junghwan’s voice suddenly grew deep and firm. He slapped a palm onto the brick wall behind you, encasing you in his frame. Chills ran down your spine.“You’re too busy babying me and protecting me, did you forget I get a say in this, too? What if I wanted to take the risk? What if I wanted to make the jump to be with you?

“What are you saying?” you muttered like an idiot. 

Junghwan looks to the side, nervously hiding his face beneath the back of his hand. The shells of his ears grew red. His other hand fell from the wall before reaching into his pants pocket. He pulls out a pink frilly piece of fabric—fabric you recognized instantly. “Last night, the girl of my dreams; the girl that gave me her favourite pink scrunchie, told me she liked me back, and I want nothing more than to take her in my arms right now.” 

Your cheeks flush in heat at his heart fluttering words. Questions ran through your mind like runners in a marathon as your heart beat faster and faster. Junghwan wanted to be with you? You weren’t living in one sided nightmare? Junghwan was willing to risk your friendship for you? Your chest heaved as you clawed at the brick wall behind you—anything for that sense of reality. 

“Did you mean it? What you said last night?” Junghwan’s eyes flit back to you. 

Your heart made one final, courageous leap across your chest. Fuck it. 

“Yeah. I meant it all—I like you, Junghwan. I like you so much.”

The pressure on your shoulders began to float to the sky. This was what it felt like to stop lying to yourself, huh?

Like clockwork, Junghwan pulls you against his chest, his face melting into the crook of your neck. You cling onto his shoulders, grip maybe too tight for your liking. You didn’t want him escaping your grasp anymore. He was gentle, still, but you couldn’t help but notice a sense of urgency in his touch. As if he was waiting all his life for this. “I like you too, y/n.”

You pull away from your embrace, your eyes immediately linking to the sight of his lips. Call yourself selfish, but you needed to kiss the man in front of you. Right now. Judging by the almost ravenous stare from Junghwan’s eyes, it seems he felt the same. 

As if you were starving, you hopelessly clung onto the collar of Junghwan’s shirt, finally linking your lips onto his—genuinely, this time. You move your arms to cling around Junghwan's neck, and his arms loop around your waist. His lips tasted of a weird fruit medley—maybe it's from the gum you gave him last week—but it didn't matter. Sparks still popped against your skin, excitement shocking through your whole body. Junghwan raised a hand snug against the back of your head, protecting you from the brick wall as he leaned in further, deepening your kiss. It made your heart melt into a lovesick puddle beneath your feet. You cling onto the fabric of his collar. Junghwan knew just what to do to take your breath away. 

Slowly, you pull apart, breath shortened, chests heightened, and eyes both full of love. Junghwan keeps his gaze on you, and only you, as he brushes a hair behind your ear. 

“Promise you’ll let me take care of you now?”

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach. “I promise”

“Gross,” Jeongwoo winces as he studies the decorations on your apartment fridge—specifically, the photo of you and Junghwan, drunkenly asleep and cuddling on the couch. Safe to say, this was the last thing he expected to see on his visit to see his best friend and sister. 

“Shut up—it's cute!” Winnie, the obvious culprit, beams. 

“I tried getting her to take it down, okay,” You argue, fiddling with your boyfriend, Junghwan’s, fingers as his arm rests on your shoulders in a casual side hug. 

“Don’t act so innocent,” Jeongwoo narrows his eyes at the sickeningly sweet couple, jabbing a finger at you and Junghwan. “You guys are too damn clingy.”

Junghwan takes this opportunity to wrap his other arm—as well as one leg—around you. He looked like a big and goofy koala, but that didn't matter to you. “And what about it?” 

You giggle behind Junghwans arm, which was covering practically half of your face. “Yeah!”

“Yuck,” Jeongwoo’s cowers behind his shoulders, and the two of you laugh triumphantly. Your brother and Winnie quickly retire to another part of your apartment, probably to get away from you two. But that didn’t matter. You gave up at Junghwan, his eyes already gazing down at you lovingly. Heat creeped onto your cheeks. 

“Don’t mind them, baby,” Junghwan says with a pout.

You hum in response before Junghwan’s hand pulls you closer by the jaw, linking your lips with his in a sweet kiss. Even now, So Junghwan managed to take your breath away. 

“I know, baby.”

[serene-sun]

𝕸𝖚𝖘𝖍𝖞 𝕸𝖆𝖞

𝐷𝒂𝐲 9, “🅆𝓪ⓡ𝖒𝐢𝒏𝕘 𝚝ⓗ𝕖𝘮 ⓤ𝕡”

Warnings: comfort to smut, still comfort, fluff, momma rain, ftm rain

——————

“Your freezing,” rain says with a small whine of worry as he places a hand on sodos forehead.

Sodo looks up at the taller ghoul with a fatigued look in his eyes, “what?”

“Oh this won’t do, dew, are you sick?” He asks, webbed fingers examining the fire ghouls flesh and eyes.

“I’m not sick.” He replies in a low, unsuspecting voice despite his loud usual nature, “just tiered.”

Rain frowns before giving the shorter ghouls cheek a kiss, “come on, let’s warm you up firefly.”

The water ghoul beckons him over to the large fireplace in the ghoul den, “sit yourself down and I’ll grab you something warm to drink.” He says as sodo crawls into the deep corner of the couch.

He returns with a cup of coffee, a staple to the fire ghoul. Sodo takes it and drinks it all almost instantly. He grabs the blankets and wraps himself in them like a mummy as rain joins him in the confines of fluffy fabric.

“How are you feeling?” Rain asks, hands trailing up the fire ghouls chest.

“M’ fine.” He lies.

It was always the week after the ghouls rut that they experienced sickness and unwell being from their bodies attempting to recover. For sodo, it was always what they called “ghoul wash”, when the ghoul experiences severity of the opposing element. Last year, dews fingertips had frostbite and he couldn’t regulate his body temperature.

“Just that after shock of rut season hmm?” Rain purrs as he tightens his grip around the ghoul.

“Are you not bothered by all of the heat?” Sodo asks, tail slowly wrapping around rains ankle.

“No, not if it’s with you.” He smiles, a finger tracing along the scars on sodos chest.

The fire ghoul smiles softly, mustache hairs scratching against rains chest as he rolls over.

“Not warm enough…” he says into his neck, tail trailing up his blue limb slowly like a snake.

“Really? Well that’s an issue,” rain says as he licks a stripe up dews cheek, “firefly needs body heat doesn’t he?”

The ghoul smirks, even with his element lacking, the spark of mischief and love could never be smothered.

Rain slowly rises from the bundle of blankets, air sending a shiver down sodos spine. He takes off his long sleeved shirt, neck his pants and his briefs as he straddles sodo.

“Need more heat…” the fire ghoul smiles deviously as he pulls the covers to the side, unbuttoning his own clothes.

It’s ethereal the way rains hair shapes his face, and how his long eye lashes cover his white irises. His lips soft and blue like his speckles skin with scaled patches and gills. Even in the dark light of the den you can still see the different blue and teal pigments on his water color painted skin. Rain was truly a serene touch of the water gods.

It didn’t take but just a look at rains nude form for the fire ghoul to get hard. Sodo grabbed rains hips, just below where fins slightly come off his flesh and back into his thigh.

“Let me see that beautiful cunt,” dew says, two slender fingers sliding between rains folds.

The water ghoul let out a whimper as arousal dripped from his core onto dews cock.

“there you go little drop,” sodo says, easing the tip of his cock into rain.

Rain breaths a shaky breath, feeling dews erextion press against his cervix. “Are you warm now?”

Sodo sighs as he feels a wave of pleasure wash over him, “your cunt is always warm enough,” he says, holding rain tight against his chest as he rolls on his side. He grabs rains thigh and puts it over his torso as he fucks into his side.

“Let’s stay like this forever..” rain whines softly as hes thrusted in slowly.

“You would die of a heat stroke my love..”

MUSHY MAY BY @forlorn-crows!!!

[sonofarathorn]

Day 5: Facial

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x f!reader Word Count: 840 Warnings: Smut (18+ only). Boob job. Facial. Brief come play. A/N: The best thing about writing challenges is getting to write scenarios you've never written before. This one is dedicated to @withahappyrefrain, the biggest fan of my Jake fics.

SUMMER OF CUM: DAY FIVE - FACIAL

“Fuck, darling. Don’t you look beautiful,” Jake groans. 

You meet his heated gaze and he shudders. Those eyes of his are downright sinful; the black of his pupil expanded, ringed by a slim circle of emerald green. They cling to your every movement, the quirk of your lips, the flutter of your eyelids, the slide of his cock between your breasts. 

He looms above you, knees on either side of your body. His hands wrap around the headboard, fingers holding onto it in a death grip. The muscles in his shoulders and stomach contract with each thrust. You find yourself distracted by watching his lithe body move. The rolling of his hips, tightening and unwinding relentlessly.

“I do?” You ask, and flick your tongue against the tip of his dick each time his hips slide forward. 

A faint flush dusts his cheeks with rouge, and sweat clings to his forehead. His jaw is tight in concentration, pink lips swollen from your kisses and the rough tug of his teeth. He’s been holding back, trying to enjoy this for as long as he can, but he’s slipping. 

When you’d said yes to trying something new you had no idea it would have this effect on Jake. It was a little awkward at first, figuring out the logistics. How was it going to work? Would he be on top, in control? For one awful nanosecond you didn’t think it would work at all. But Jake was determined. 

From the very first thrust, when Jake stuttered and swore like you’d never heard him do before, you knew this position would be a staple.

You like to watch him struggle. Your husband, so normally put together and on top of things, slowly losing his mind. So wrapped up in the filth and pleasure of it all that he’s barely hanging on to that perfectly sculpted control. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he exhales sharply, staring up at the ceiling. “You tryna kill me, baby?” 

You grin. “Only a little.” 

One of Jake’s hands drop from the headboard to cup your jaw. “Christ,” he mumbles, and absentmindedly thumbs over your lips. “I’m serious. You look so beautiful like this. Wish I could take a picture. It’s taking everything I got not to just come all over your perfect face.” 

“Totally could if you wanted to.” You suck his thumb into your mouth.

“Goddammit,” Jake curses, squeezes his eyes shut. “Keep doing that and I will.” He slips his thumb from your lip and reaches behind him to rub the spit-slicked digit against your clit. 

He soon realizes he does not need the extra lubrication. Watching his composure slowly be chipped away has turned you on, you’re almost positive you’re dripping onto the duvet. You rock your hips, searching for the sweet pressure of his touch. 

“Fuck, you’re soaking. Just from watching me do this?” His eyes fall back to your breasts, watching his cock rock between them. You push them closer together and smile victoriously at the hitch in his voice. “Yeah, I guess that’s fair,” he says, voice tight. 

Jake leans back slightly and spits. The saliva drips down between your breasts, slicking Jake’s sloppy movements. A moan tears from the back of his throat. 

“You’re so fucking soft. I’m not gonna last much longer. Feels too good.” 

“Look at me,” you whisper, drawing his attention back to you. “Want you to come all over my face.”

Jake’s hips buck forward. “Shit, baby. Are you sure?” 

“Please,” you whine. “And I want you to watch me while you do it.” 

His body tenses. “Fuck. You’re so fucking dirty, honey,” he groans. “After this I’m gonna make you come until you beg me to stop. But first,” his words are cut off by a wrecked moan. “First I’m gonna come all over you.” Jake wraps his hand around his cock. 

You stick your tongue out and close your eyes, tilting your head back so you bare your face to him. It’s the tipping point. Jake comes with a deep groan of your name, showering warmth over your cheeks and chin. It slides down your neck and pools in your collarbone. Your body shudders at the sensation, lips turned up into a smile. You somehow manage to look angelic, even though you’re covered in sin. 

Jake swipes his fingers over your skin, smearing the mess on your cheek and jaw. He pushes his fingers into your mouth, a sigh of praise bubbling up when you eagerly clean them off. 

“Good girl,” he leans forward and kisses you messily, moaning quietly at the taste of him on your tongue. “Y’look fucking gorgeous covered in my cum.” The hand between your thighs resumes its lazy circles over your clit. “Want you to cover my face in yours. That sound good to you baby?”

You almost knock your forehead against his while nodding.

“Good,” Jake hums, and slots his body between your legs. He throws them over his shoulders. “Cuz I’m not gonna stop until you do.”

[cal-writes]

figured i should put these in their own posts for easier readability. based on this other bits x x

"Zoro!" She hisses and sees him flail on the hammock. His swords clatter in his grip as he catches himself, blinking wildly in the low light before he sees her. He slumps back with a groan.

"What?" He asks, the vein on his forehead prominent as he glares at her through one bleary eye. 

Nami waves the lists at him. "What is this?" She asks.

"How would I know?" 

"I've been getting shopping lists from everyone longer than what we usually put on one. Is this some sort of prank? We can't afford all that." She tells him as she stomps over and Zoro just lifts an eyebrow at her.

He holds out his hand for her to deposit the lists into. He glances through them, brow still furrowed. "Looks the same as usual to me."

Nami scoffs and crosses her arms. "Oh really? How come-" She begins trailing off when Zoro catches her gaze. Her shoulders slump. "You trim them down."

He hands her the papers back but she keeps her arms crossed, putting them into a standoff. "Yeah. Depending on our budget for the month or what we need. I always get lists from everyone." 

"And you're not doing it this time because?" She asks, annoyed at herself for not realizing earlier. 

"Not my job." He says simply, still holding out the papers.

Nami throws her arms to the side. "Seriously? Instead of talking to Luffy you're taking it out on us?" 

Zoro's gaze shutters and he throws the papers on the ground vigorously before climbing out of the hammock. Nami exhales, immediately regretting her choice of words. It's been an annoying day but it wasn't fair to Zoro. 

"I'm not charting a course or going to start cooking. Not my job. This isn't either. Captain made that clear. I'm not butting in if he wants someone else to do it." Zoro tells her. 

"I don't want to do it either. But someone has to." Nami tells him, sighing. She looks down at the crumpled paper.

Zoro huffs, staring down as well. 

They stand in silence, the muffled voices of the others out on deck coming through the wooden door. 

With a violent sigh, Zoro crouches down and smooths out the pages in front of him. He lifts one hand. "Pen?" He asks and Nami almost jumps before she unearths a pencil from her pocket. 

He spreads out the papers until he can see all of them at once, finger moving vaguely down the itinerary. Nami crouches down as well.

"Priorities are supplies. Medical first of all, they are the most expensive too but if Chopper lists it we need it so I never cut it outright. If money is tight at most I adjust quantity." He says, going over Chopper's requistion and putting it to the side. "Sanji always asks for extravagant ingredients but he can do a lot with less. Spices and shit we can't get ourselves out on sea go first. Milk especially because Brook needs it and he always forgets." Zoro strikes a bunch of things off Sanji's list before putting it on a pile alongside Choppers. "Robin usually wants very specific stuff we don't get everywhere so I leave it most of the time. If we come across it, we might as well get it when we can." He says, adding to the growing pile and Nami feels something uncomfortable settle in her chest as she watches Zoro's hand lead the pencil across the paper. "Franky and Usopp have a lot of shit, most of it we actually need for repairs but some of it you'll have to ask if it's for a project and depending on that we can consider it, they often ask for the same shit though so they can share." He says, copying some from one list to the other before crumpling one and putting the expanded list onto the pile. "Everyone forgets about staples we all use like detergent and soap. Depending how the storage looks, it's better to have more of that than to run out." He makes some final additions before giving her the smaller stack of shopping lists and her pen.

She takes it with a stunned expression. "Can I go back to sleep now? I was awake all night." He asks but stands before he waits for an answer.

"Did nobody relieve you?" She asks, trying to remember who had guard duty last night. Then she remembers that that is usually decided by Zoro. Who has done so again but without involving anyone else. And nobody had questioned it. Because they haven't had to think about that in years. 

Nami closes her eyes and covers her face with one hand. Zoro's footsteps recede and the rope of the hammock creaks as he climbs back in and she peeks out from between her fingers.

-

"How could you say that to him?" Nami hits the back of his head. 

Luffy could have dodged but Nami usually has a good reason to hit him. He still complains, rubbing the back of his scalp. "Say what?" He asks.

"That he's not first mate." Nami says exasperated, looking at him in bewilderment. 

Luffy blinks and returns her look in kind. "He's not though. We don't need a first mate."

"We-" Nami stops herself with a groan and drags a hand across her face. "Of course we need a first mate. Especially with you as our captain." She tells him and Luffy scoffs and pouts. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asks.

Nami throws her arms as if it were obvious. "You don't do any of the boring work required to run a ship, have you ever thought about our budget?"

Luffy blows a raspberry. "Of course not, that's why I got you." He tells her because duh, she should know that.

"Guard rotation, maintenance, route decisions, provisions, our relations with other crews." Nami begins to list on her fingers and Luffy cocks his head. "That's all decisions that have to be made." 

Luffy shrugs. "Yeah and we've been making them. Everyone just makes sure they have their stuff, you chart the course, what's this got to do with a first mate?" 

Nami takes a deep breath and pulls up her chair so she can sit down and plant her elbows on the table. "There are hundreds of ways to sail on most days and I you just tell me to pick the most exciting one so I don't ask you which to take. I ask Zoro which one he thinks is better. Everyone makes a list of what they need and then we decide what we can afford because you don't want us to steal. Zoro has been organizing guard rotation pretty much since the beginning and since we got the Sunny he organized the chores."

Luffy pulls a face. "I thought that was you." He says sticking his tongue out a little. 

"We are on the Grandline, I have enough on my plate getting us where we want safely." Nami tells him. 

Luffy shrugs. "So, who needs chores anyway?" 

Nami groans and stands with a huff. "You're unbelievable." 

[freyyzu]

FIVE

a kiss for every part of you i adore. the problem is, i adore every part of you.

a/n; i'm struggling so bad with the wedding fanfic. my best friend is just watching me descend into insanity rewriting the prologue for the fourth time. i just needed to make something short and cute to fix that o(╥﹏╥)o mild (??? bland???) nsfw on number 3. i've never written nsfw before, please go easy on me. post step 4.

update after finishing; this was not as short as i intended it to be.

5. EYES.

Black and white were considered Baxter's staple colors. From his clothes, to his phone case, to his car, you could list countless more items off the top of your head that all shared those monotone hues.

Really, it'd be easier to list the items he owned that weren't greyscale.

In particular, one comes to mind—two, to be more precise. Would saying he owned them be correct? You assume so. They were a part of his person, after all.

A dark brown—they shine as bright as embers from a fire burning too hot. If you stared at them long enough you would burn, but that was a risk you were willing to take. Anything, if it meant being able to get lost within them for even a moment longer.

"Good morning," you whisper, sweeping your hand across his bangs. The strands of hair fall back into place defiantly over his eyes, much to your dismay.

They're not in their signature side-swept look; they never are in the mornings. Locks of ashy grey stick out from all corners. It splays over the pillow in some sort of abstract art, a few of the longer pieces jutting outwards to tickle your cheek.

Baxter groans, rubbing at his eyes, though only one manages to beat the morning bleariness in order to look at you. Even through the dim glow of sunlight that sneaks through the cracks of the curtains, it shines.

"Good morning," he mumbles, barely audible and coherent.

You chuckle at the sound of his voice. He might be awake now, but he wasn't quite awake just yet. The clock had yet to even strike nine.

Once more, you reach up to his hair. Instead of sweeping away his bangs, this time you push it up past his forehead.

He hums at the feeling of your hand on his skin and smiles, opting to close the one eye he'd manage to pry open before.

Such a baby, you idly think before leaning forward to press your lips onto his eyelid. His hand on your waist tightens at the contact, and you move to give the other the same treatment.

This time, both pools of endless brown open to gaze directly at you. His smile grows wider by the second, and you think that maybe, just maybe, you've found a new, sure-fire method to waking him up.

4. EARS.

There's a quirk you've noticed about Baxter that you hadn't realized before.

No, that's not exactly right. You've noticed it. The problem is it just hadn't happen enough for your suspicions to be confirmed.

You recall seeing it once. The most notable occasion being the day of Jude and Scott's wedding; when the two of you had finally reunited, made your amends, and cleared the air of five years worth of regrets.

He was so happy then his cheeks flushed a vibrant shade of coral pink all the way to the tips of his ears. And as he couldn't believe what he was hearing, his ears had twitched. It reminded you much of a kitten.

For a long while, you wondered if you'd ever see that again, and by some form of pure luck, today you did.

It was still early in the morning, or at least what Baxter would consider early. Even though he didn't need to go to the office today for work, he still had some business to take care of. The sounds of his fingers tapping against the keys of his laptop were the only noise to break through the silence of your shared apartment for the last half an hour.

In the meantime, you busied yourself in the kitchen to make breakfast (brunch is more accurate), having that morning free of any other duties.

"Baxter, breakfast is ready," you call, setting the last plate on the table.

The tapping continues.

You huff amusedly. It was one of those days again—where he got too caught up with his work and blocked out all other distractions. Usually you'd let him finish and bring the occasional cup of coffee or tea and snacks to get him through the load, but having a proper meal to start the day was important.

Cleaning your hands on a towel you amble your way over behind him on the couch, catching a peek of some e-mail exchanges. That wasn't what you were here for, though.

Wrapping your arms loosely around his neck you lean in and manage to push yourself forward enough to peck his ear.

The action apparently catches him completely off-guard, and you feel him straighten in your hold, face going completely red—it continues to travel up past his cheeks. You barely have enough time to catch the tweak of his ears before he shoots up a hand to cover the one you kissed and spins around to face you, eyes wide.

"Ah—" You raise both of your arms up in surrender, suppressing a giggle at his flustered reaction. "I'm sorry. I called you for breakfast, but you were too concentrated on your laptop to hear me."

"Oh," he breathes. At least he didn't seem angry.

Far from it.

You offer him an apologetic smile anyways. "Shall we eat?"

"Yeah," he answers, a little too quickly. His eyes dart away from yours to close his laptop. You get the feeling he didn't need to look away to do that, but just wanted an excuse not meet your eyes right now. "Let's eat."

3. NECK.

Its a cool night this evening in SoCal, but you felt as if you were sitting right next to an open flame.

Lithe arms wrap around your bare waist, pulling you in close. Without the restrictive fabric of clothing separating you from each other, you could feel Baxter's heartbeat more distinctly than ever.

It's steady, if not a little fast.

The gentle motions of your fingers massaging his scalp help it from becoming erratic, but you can feel the spike every time you tug on his hair—feel the way his breath hitches against your exposed shoulders as you pull a little harder the next time. And again on the next, and the time after that.

Lips that you're used to tracing with your own press open-mouth kisses against the side of your neck, and you tilt your head to give him more access.

"Baxter," his name leaves your mouth as a breathless whisper. You can barely stifle the moan that threatens to escape as his fingers tighten their hold on you.

When your grip on his hair tightens, you hear his groan right beside your ear. Unlike you, he doesn't try to suppress it—you're not sure if you're thankful for that or not.

When he begins to press his thigh deeper between your legs you can't restrain your voice anymore.

"Baxter," you say inbetween gulps of air. Your hands move from his head to his shoulders, gently pushing him back to lean against the couch. "Wait."

"Is there something wrong?" His eyebrows crease in worry.

You shake your head with an unsteady laugh and use this time to catch your breath. "No, nothing's wrong. It's— it felt nice, really nice. I was just wondering if I could...?"

Your hands begin to roam again, finding their new homes against the nape of his neck and the flush of his cheeks. The end of your sentence doesn't hear the light of day, but Baxter knows exactly what you're trying to ask when your eyes dart to the mole decorating his neck.

"Oh?" He raises an eyebrow, frown morphing into a smirk. Even with his face bright red he would never miss a chance to tease you. Typical Baxter. "Please." He pulls you in by the shoulders until you can feel his breath once more against the lobe of your ear. His voice sends shivers down your spine. "Be my guest."

And so you oblige, pressing feather-light kisses first on his shoulder before trailing further up to his adam's apple and giving it the same treatment. You can feel it bob as he takes a large breath of air, followed by a pleased sigh. His fingers find purchase tangled in your hair, and you're acutely aware of how the roles have been reversed.

Finally, you make it to the area where his mole resides. Your hands follow your lips, one curling around his neck again to twirl strands of grey inbetween its fingers while the other traced the curve of his spine. He shudders beneath your touch.

In contrast to the gentle grazes you've given him thus far, your lips this time, nuzzle against his most sensitive spot with open mouth kisses, biting hard enough for a mark to form, but not to hurt.

"Mmn—!" he moans. His thigh jolts at the unexpected sensation, once more making contact between your legs. His hand pulls at your hair reactively, and you understand then, why he likes it so much.

"Payback for teasing me." You back away, thoroughly admiring your work, drinking in the sight of him beneath you.

Cheeks and ears flushed red, hair in disarray, a cheeky grin that for sure spelt your doom, and a faint rim of crimson that accentuates his already eye-catching mole.

Thinking back on it, you're sure this mole was the only reason you recognized him that summer of 2016. With his growth-spurt and new look, and not to mention you only having the chance to meet once beforehand, you're not sure if you would've been able to tell who he was otherwise. Not that you had to, he recognized you first.

Mindlessly, your thumb brushes against the bloom that darkens with every second passed. It doesn't hurt, you're sure of it, but Baxter appreciates the gesture all the same. Though, apparently not enough to let you linger.

Familiar fingers dip underneath your shorts, rubbing wide archs against your thighs. "Shall we continue?"

Ah, right.

You had a long night ahead of you.

2. LIPS.

"If you're feeling up for it we could take a stroll down the shore after dinner. The beach is usually empty by that time, and I'd love nothing more than to soak in the sights of a beautiful evening with you." He adds after a pause, "If you're alright with that, of course."

"I'd love to, Baxter," you answer instantly, batting away any of his worries.

For how confident your boyfriend made himself out to be to the public, you knew he still had a new dilemmas to sort through that takes time. Making sure you were happy and not feeling insecure about his choices being one of them.

"Really?" His expression lights right back up at your quick response, lips curving up into a genuinely pleased smile. "That's wonderful. I'll have to remember to bring a towel so we can dry our feet once we get back to the car. It wouldn't do well for us to drag sand back into the apartment."

Cove Holden would vehemently disagree with that statement if he were around to hear it, and you were almost inclined to bring it up yourself—being a person of the sea and whatnot.

But you don't.

The only thing on your mind is how you love hearing him so happy, love listening to the sound of his voice as he animatedly talks about even the most mundane things. You love the way the corners of his lips quirk up into a shy smile every time you compliment him and you love the way they stretch into a knowing-grin whenever he finds something new to tease you about—the way he makes it up to you with a kiss that always lasts longer than intended, and the way he says sorry without meaning an ounce of it.

Before long, those idle listings that you're so fond of hearing him talk about no longer register.

Without much thought, your hands are reaching out to cup his cheeks. Your thumb tenderly traces the outline of his jaw. No words were needed to tell him exactly what you were thinking. You were already staring at him as if you were holding the entire world in your hands.

"I'm going to kiss you now," you warn.

He chuckles amusedly, his own hand coming up to map the outline of your bottom lip, as if trying to commit the shape to memory. "What are you waiting for then?"

Nothing, really.

You waste no time leaning in, your lips fitting like puzzle pieces that were carved just to lock with each other.

It starts out slow, wanting, as if afraid you would scare one another off if you went for something more. Eventually, thoses brief pecks spiral out of your reach into something more, it's no longer a want but a need.

Despite you taking initiative, Baxter takes the lead, pulling you closer until you're practically stradling him. Your hands have moved from his cheeks to his neck, securing your place on his lap.

When you finally pull away, you're both gasping for air, eyes lidded and lungs breathless. Had your need for oxygen not won out you would have been content to kiss him all day.

Something about the look in his eyes tells you he thought the same.

1. HANDS.

One, two, three.

One, two, three.

Spin, pull, and—dip.

The music player clicks, and the sounds of string instruments abruptly stops. The silence that follows signals the end of another song.

"You did amazing." Baxter doesn't hesitate to compliment you as soon as the dance ends. He pulls you up into a standing position, but makes no effort to let go of your clasped hands.

Even if there was no reason to hold you anymore, that didn't mean anything. You were his partner—in more ways than one—so unless you wished for him to let you go, he wasn't planning on doing so any time soon.

"It's because I have such an amazing teacher leading me," you quip back.

He narrows his eyes, smiling widely. "I don't think I can call myself your teacher anymore. At this point you've far outgrown my lessons, don't you think?"

"Not at all. There's always more to learn from a former professional. Maybe you're just holding back on me."

If it was a compliment battle you wanted, it was a compliment battle you were going to get. For the next however long, the two of you spend your downtime exchanging complimentary remarks inbetween gulps of water.

The whole time, Baxter doesn't once let go of your hand, even if it meant awkwardly untwisting the cap of his bottle between his legs. He got it eventually.

"I'm so glad my misfortune brings you joy," he jokes, setting the container down by his side.

"I offered to help," you remind him. "You're the one who denied it."

"It was a battle of pride." He pouts at you, and for a second you almost thought he was serious.

Rolling your eyes, you laugh at his childish attitude. No matter how profession he tries to make himself out to be, you knew better. Underneath all those stiff suits and fancy words he was—as Xavier once described—squishy.

You hold on tighter to his hand; they were squishy too. Or maybe soft would be a more apt description.

"Is something on your mind?" he asks, no doubt curious about the sudden pressure.

You hum, lifting your arm up until the limb was right in front of your—and his—face. Your fingers wriggle out of Baxter's grasp before entertwining with his own. He lets you do it, gladly. Your palms are both clammy from holding each other for so long, but neither of you seem to mind.

And then, as if you had done this a million times before, you bring his hand to your lips in gentle kiss, and there it remains.

The same hand that had been offered to you all those years ago at the Summer Soiree was the same hand that you're holding now.

The one that holds you close in the early mornings and refuses to let go. The one that tucks your hair behind your ear and rubs delicate circles along every part of your body. The one that cradles your cheek with so much warmth you fear that one day you're going to heat up and burn into ash all at the same time.

"I was thinking about how much I love you. All of you." Your lips brush against his skin with every word, as if hoping to physically convey the full brunt of your emotions through that one simple gesture.

"Oh."

In the time you've spent dating Baxter, there were very few instances in which you were able to catch him off-guard. This just so happen to be one of those moments.

He's at a loss for words.

Unfortunately, you don't get the opportunity to bask in it for long, and soon enough, with the same care as you gave him, Baxter kisses the back of your hand. His lips glide down to your pinkie before giving it the same treatment, and then doing the same for your other four fingers, giving them each the individual attention they deserve.

Finally, he switches his grasp to your wrist and presses one final kiss to the inside of your palm.

It tickles.

"It's funny, we were thinking of the same thing." He catches your eye, features glimmering with affection. "About how I love you. All of you."

[mylovelylittleobsessions]

Homecomings

A Rings of Power one-shot

For @baddybaddyadardaddy and @lazyneonrabbitt , who requested Adar with Glûg and family. Enjoy!

(CW: non-graphic description of butchery (the food prep kind))

Adar shifted his weight with a small huff as he walked through the main gate (such as it was) of their new village. The young buck draped over his shoulders wasn’t too terribly heavy, but it was itching the back of his neck unpleasantly. He’d be feeling the prickle of against-the-grain pelt on his skin for the rest of the day, but the end result would be worth it.

One of his children hurried up to him. “What a marvelous catch, Lord Father!” He crowed. “Shall I carry it to the larder for you?”

“No need.” He replied. “This one isn’t for the main meal.” He nodded his head back behind him, where a cluster of Uruks were hauling a twelve-point buck in on a tarp. “That is.”

His child’s jaw dropped. “What a beauty!” Young buck on Adar’s shoulders forgotten, he hurried to help his siblings with what was going to be a staple of their meals for a good while.

Adar chuckled softly as he walked on. Gone, it seemed, were the days of gnawing bellies and lips cracked by thirst. In their new home, his children would know plenty. As soon as he figured out what crops did best in the ash-dusted soil, they would want for nothing.

(Excepting, perhaps, nonviolent neighbors, but the Elves would have to get used to them eventually.)

He stopped at a small, hide-draped mud hut. Lacking a door to knock on, he gave a sharp whistle before poking his head in. “Anyone home?” He called out.

Soft, shuffling footsteps came around the corner. “Adar!” A high, reedy voice exclaimed. “What a wonderful surprise!”

Adar smiled gently. “Duraz, my child.” He leaned in and pressed his forehead to hers in greeting. “How are you feeling?”

“Oh, I’m mending.” Duraz shuffled back so that Adar could come in. “The little one took his sweet time coming, but he’s keepin’ us on our—” She gasped when she saw what he carried. “Oh, Lord Father! That’s not all for us!”

“Who else would it be for, the wargs?” He teased. “How could I visit a new mother and not bring a gift? Besides,” he hefted the buck onto a workbench and fished out a knife, “this way, you don’t have to strain yourself hauling dinner back from the kitchens.”

“Well, I make Glûg do the haulin’— wait! You’re gonna cook for us too?” Duraz pressed a hand to her mouth, holding back happy tears. “Oh, you’re too much!”

A soft mewling came from the basket by the fire. Adar’s heart squeezed and he fought back the urge to drop the knife and race across the room. He came here for a purpose, and it wasn’t to monopolize and snuggle an infant.

(That was his story and he was sticking to it.)

“Oop, he sounds ‘ungry!” Duraz went over to the basket and scooped up the bundle within. “Hey there, little love. You sleep well?” The baby cooed and burbled at his mother, who bounced him softly. “I’m jus’ gonna give him a feed, Lord Father. Will you be alright out here?”

“Certainly.” Adar replied, forcing himself not to abandon his self-appointed task in favor staring at an adorable baby for the foreseeable future.

Duraz smiled at him as she carried the baby around the corner to another room. No longer distracted by the precious little one in the blankets, Adar got to work carving up the buck.

Hide, bone, and offal he set aside for later use. The meat, he separated; some he would salt-cure for storage, some he would smoke, and the remainder he would make into a stew. He searched through the satchel he’d carried with him on the hunt, and set out a portion of the mushrooms and wild plants he’d gathered. He’d make sure to bring some to the kitchens later; he’d found some good varieties out there!

“You are spoiling us, Lord Father!” Duraz remarked when she came back, seeing Adar tending to the food. “Ooh, but that does smell good!”

The hide door shifted, and a male Uruk entered the hut. “Adar?”

“Welcome home, Glûg!” Adar waved from next to the hearth.

Glûg set down his sword and nuzzled his wife’s cheek in greeting. “What’s all this?” He asked in wonderment.

“Adar insisted on cooking for us! Isn’t he just—” Duraz stopped and took a look around. “Hang on. Did… did you tidy up too?”

Adar gave a smile and a small shrug because, yes, he had. Duraz gave a little squeal of delight.

“You’re not trying to sweep away my lady, are you, Lord Father?” Glûg teased.

Adar held back a laugh, which ended up bursting out of him when Duraz smacked her husband’s arm in chastisement. Glûg fetched the bowls for the stew and insisted on putting away the remaining deer parts himself (“Gotta make meself useful ‘round here, after all!” He teased), while Adar ladled it out and finally got to hold the baby while his parents ate.

Adar’s own portion of stew was barely touched, so entranced he was by the tiny babe sleeping in his arms. Perhaps it was fatherly bias, but he could not think of a more beautiful, perfect sight than his beloved children. Eventually, the baby snuffled awake, and stared up at him with storm-grey eyes that took his breath away.

“Hello, little treasure.” He breathed. The baby wiggled an arm loose of his blanket to grasp Adar’s finger with his tiny hand, and Adar’s entire world just stopped.

(“See tha’ look there?” Duraz whispered. “Tha’s what you looked like when you held him!” Glûg shushed his wife, chuckling.)

“Lord Father?” Glûg eventually asked. “Me an’ my lady was wonderin’ if you could help us with somethin’.”

“Of course, my son.” Adar replied, after (reluctantly) returning the baby to his mother.

“Well,” Glûg pulled out a scrap of cloth with writing on it. “We was wonderin’ if you could help us settle on a name. We’ve whittled it down to two.”

Adar accepted the cloth and looked over the names written on it. Out of a tradition born of necessity and sadder times, a new babe’s name wasn’t spoken aloud until an appointed time, usually a month or so after birth. To know the name prior to then was reserved for close family or the most trusted. Adar often chose not to pry, letting the parents have the privacy their ancestors often lacked in the elder days. To be asked to help choose? That was a rare honor, one that he cherished.

He considered the options before him. Both were good, strong names. Either would suit the babe well as an adult. He thought, picturing those stormy eyes, those perfect little fingers and toes, and then he knew.

He pointed to one of the names. “This one.”

Glûg and Duraz leaned forward to see his choice. Glûg looked down at the baby in his wife’s arms and stroked his tiny cheek with one finger. “It’s perfect.” He looked back up at Duraz and tenderly pressed their foreheads together.

Adar couldn’t help the little coo that escaped him as he pressed his hand to his mouth. “Stop, you’re too cute!”

They both huffed a laugh. “Go on an’ eat your supper, Adar.” Duraz chided. “You put such good work into it!”

Adar smiled as did as he was bid. It came out quite good, if he said so himself. Though…

“Erm, if Ogga asks, hers is better.”

“Yes, Lord Father.” Glûg replied with a wink. “Wouldn’t want you to face the business end of that ladle. Again.”

Adar pretended to pout at that, though the old woman’s prowess with that thing was the stuff of legend. Eventually, Duraz excused herself to put the baby (and probably herself) to bed and Glûg walked Adar to the door.

“Thank you again, Lord Father, for everything.”

“It was my pleasure, son.” Adar told him, pressing their foreheads together. “Until tomorrow?”

“Aye.” Glûg replied with a toothy smile.

Adar waved farewell and headed back to his tent, warm in spite of the evening chill.

[fruitcoops]

Chicken Strip(tease)

O'Knutzy Week Day 3: Cooking Mishap + Bondage! For @oknutzyweek2023 and many thanks to @lumosinlove <3

It was January in Gryffindor—in other words, fucking miserable. Leo gave himself a little extra grace for that when the screaming toddlers at the corner store started feeling a tad too relatable. The weather couldn’t decide between sleet, hail, and snow, so it vomited out some nightmare combination of the three with the magnificent addition of near-freezing temperatures from dawn (short) till dusk (even shorter). Any of Leo’s grumbling was sharply silenced by a blast of shearing wind to tell him to shove it up his ass.

The living room plants had a special light to mimic the sun during the months of garbage disposal weather.

Leo had the oven. And he was going to bloom and grow and photosynthesize, goddammit.

Simmer pots went from a monthly occurrence to a weekly staple—ostensibly, he needed to use up the extra oranges before they went bad. They had soup every night for a week, and as the sky grew darker, he transitioned to frequent roasts. The three of them could demolish a hunk of pork in one sitting without any trouble at all; Leo was sure anemia spooked and ran the second it glanced their way.

“What’s—”

“Veggies.” The first two rows of tiles by the oven were warmer than the rest of the floor. He had discovered that just after Cap’s birthday. “Carrots, celery, beets. The works. How’s your mom’n’em?”

“My—they’re good.” Finn’s socks muffled his footsteps. Leo stared into the tiny oven window, entranced by golden light. “Yeah, no, everyone’s fine. Excited to see us for the holidays. Mom sends kisses.”

Leo hummed. That would be nice. He wasn’t keen on winter any further north than Kentucky, but the O’Hara house was always warm. Warmer than Rimouski, at least. It was a testament to Logan’s love that he didn’t ask Leo to bury himself in snow that could be measured in meters.

“…you okay, baby?”

“Hmm?” He scooted an inch closer to the oven and gleefully wiggled his toes on the nearly-too-hot tile. “Mhmm.”

“You’re sitting, like, really close to the oven.”

“Warm,” Leo supplied. Wind shrieked down the brick siding of their building and he closed his eyes, leaning in. The oil was starting to sizzle.

“Please don’t bake yourself.”

The concern in Finn’s voice made him pause. He blinked. His face was beginning to prickle.

In the glass reflection, Finn squatted with a soft groan. His fingertips brushed Leo’s spine. “Le? You listening?”

“Mhmm.” The carrots would be ready to caramelize soon. Maybe he could do another soup as a side course.

“You gotta sit back, Butter.”

“ ‘S warm here.”

Finn sighed. “C’mon. Let’s get you a blanket.”

Arms came around his chest to haul him off the ground like a ragdoll. “No,” Leo protested weakly, reaching for his little square of salvation.

“Yes,” Finn mimicked. His sweater sleeves gave gentle cushion to Leo’s underarms as he was (dragged) hustled to the other side of the kitchen; Finn paused, moved to his front, and boosted him onto the countertop with only a quiet grunt of effort.

Leo couldn’t help the slide of his lower lip. “But…”

“Uh-uh. No baked boyfriends, please.” Finn leaned up to kiss his cheek, but swerved an inch before he made contact. “Oh, that looks tasty.”

Leo exhaled miserably and plopped his forehead onto Finn’s shoulder. A hand found his nape within seconds. “Chicken.”

“I see that,” Finn laughed. “Looks great, honey.”

“Might have soup, too.”

“You’re really feeling the soup, huh?”

“Tasty. Easy.”

“It’s amazing,” Finn agreed. He toyed with a few overgrown curls, then leaned toward the doorway. “Lo! Le made a chicken!”

An instant ruckus followed—Leo buried his smile in Finn’s neck. For someone so small, Logan couldn’t do anything quietly. “A chick—oh, coucou, you look cozy.”

“I hate January, and I hate the weather, and…” Leo groaned and pushed his face into the warm, spicy hollow of Finn’s neck and shoulder. “And I really like soup.”

“Okay,” Logan laughed. “Is that what we’re having?”

There was a nudge to his arm; Leo lifted it to make room and shuffled Logan against himself, resting his chin on the top of his head. Perfectly snuggle-able, that one. Warm, too. He knew he kept him around for a reason.

He had made a bit of a mess, when he really looked at it. The chicken was a work of art but he had been more concerned with lingering near the oven than cleaning as he cooked, which left a disaster of impressive proportions sprawling across the countertop. A small pool of olive oil oozed along the tiles. Pepper caught the edge and diverted it onto a spoon. He followed the lazy river past a bowl, a ramekin, and a spoon (half-burnt from one of Logan’s ill-fated baking attempts) before catching at the corner of the pan. A soft hiss followed, then cooled.

Before his very eyes, his Jacques-Pepin wet dream of a rotisserie chicken sat up and began to dance burlesque.

A startled laugh burst from him. One crispy leg lifted in arabesque—a wing shimmied at him, seductive and gorgeous and golden. Leo turned to muffle himself in Logan’s hair, unable to look away despite mild horror at Finn’s fingers all over his moment of divine inspiration. “Oh my god.”

The chicken paused, gave a sultry half-turn, and wiggled its voluptuous white meat at him.

The giggles flooded forth, and he simply couldn’t stop them. Logan’s chest shook under his hand.

“I can’t…” Finn’s tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth as he attempted to beckon with a wing. “God, you’ve got this thing all done up in—fucking bondage or something.”

“It’s trussed!” Leo propped his chin on Logan’s head. A warm hand folded over his own. He made eye contact with Finn and pressed a kiss to Logan’s ear. “And it’s perfect.”

“Course it is, it’s you.”

His grin made his cheeks hurt. “Stop playing with your food and come kiss me, Chicken Boy.”