#picture like a pretty big mug

[banj0possum]

My Lovely Melody

Yandere!Rockstar x GN!Reader

CW: yandere is a playboy before he meets reader, suggestive (creepy) thoughts, minor obsessive behaviour

🎸 Axel's been in many relationships with both men and women alike, but all of his little flings felt nothing more than that, just flings.

🎸 And he was content with it, I mean being a famous rockstar meant lots of people wanting a chance with you and he indulged in that fact.

🎸 He could sleep with whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted, and he wouldn't have to deal with the commitment that comes with dating or any of that messy stuff.

🎸 So why the hell can't stop thinking about you ?!?!?!!

🎸 He scratched his head trying to make sense of it, his messy hair getting even more ruffled as he tries to get the image of your smile out of his head.

🎸 You were in a miscellaneous store full of alt clothing, trinkets and various other stuff when he walked in with his bandmates.

🎸 It was fairly normal when he came in the store. It was dim with some random punk song playing faintly in the background. His friends started exploring, looking at the graphic t-shirts and mugs shaped like skulls and the like.

🎸 He got a bit bored and wandered to the other side of the store. It had posters, candles and..who's that?

🎸 There you were, staring longingly at a plush toy sitting on one of the shelves, just standing there.

🎸 He didn't think much of it, probably just some person baked out of their mind. "Hey buddy, you doin' good?"

🎸 You snap out of your gaze and look at the big hulking man in front of you. You stutter out an apology and explain your little misfortune.

🎸 "So you want this..toy...but you can't afford it..?" He raises a brow at you as you nod, making him chuckle.

🎸 He thought for a moment, looking at the stuffed creature, well it wouldn't hurt to buy it for you, he's pretty well off from all the gigs and concerts he's been in so...

🎸 "How 'bout I buy this thing for ya then? But you owe me~" He winks, thinking he could score some quick sex for being such a 'gentleman'

🎸 But no, instead of a blush or a knowing smirk, you just looked at him with the widest, most innocent eyes he's ever seen, you were practically shaking with joy as he said it.

🎸 You thanked him profusely before listing off things you could do in return, treating him to some food, buying something for him in return, plain paying him back..he was a bit surprised.

🎸 "O-oh...uhm that was a joke heheh, y-you don't have to do all that babe..." He blushes.

🎸 The two of you head to the cashier, his friends spying from behind the aisles as his gaze is locked on the little ball of cuteness beside him.

🎸 Seriously? Did you even know who he was? This has never happened before...most of the time, he would pay for someone's drink or something and they'd be on his dick in seconds, but you, you were so..different...it felt nice..

🎸 You didn't even get it in a bag, you immediately took the plush after it was paid and hugged it close.

🎸 so cute so cute so cute so cute so cute!!!

🎸 "Hey uh..so me and my buds are in a band and uhm..wanna maybe..watch our next gig?" He asks nervously, he's never been so shy towards anyone!!

🎸 You agree, thinking it's the least you could do for what he did for you.

🎸 You take out your phone, Axel can't help but grin at the case, it was cute, like you~..

🎸 "Here's my number if..you need it.." You smile at him, that smile..that damn cute smile...you had his heart wrapped around your finger at this point.

🎸 "Th-thanks sugar..I'll see you there.." He smiles back as you part ways, he heads back to his friends who were bombarding him with questions as he watches you skip out of the store with your new little soft friend.

🎸 That night, he was getting ready for the show when he got a message notification and sees that you sent a picture of the show from one of the seats with some text "Good luck out there!"

🎸 His face was on fire as he realized you were there, he peeks out in the crowd and there you were, your little plush toy in tow.

🎸 You look so out of place from the people in spiky jewelry and dark outfits, you were just in a hoodie and baggy pants, albeit the hoodie had a MCR design on it, but you can tell it was very soft compared to the rest of the audience.

🎸 Finally it was time for the show to begin and it was the most passionate he's been in a while, it seemed as if the words he was singing were dedicated to you and you alone.

🎸 The little glances at you made you giddy, like a friend seeing their bestie perform, you were cheering excitedly for him, not in a fangirly way, but one of genuine support and amazement.

🎸 After the performance, Axel tried finding you, but the crowd was too big and he assumed you must have left already.

🎸 Wait..why is he being so buddy buddy with you? You just met today! It's not like you two were best friends or anything!

🎸 He tried dismissing the thought of you, tried distracting himself by flirting with other people, but he could only think about you, and making you smile like that again..

🎸 no no no! get out of my head!

🎸 Maybe a little fling can ease his mind?

🎸 Even on his bed with some random girl after show, he can still think of you.

🎸 Would your skin be as soft? or maybe softer? How would your hair smell? He bets your moans would sound delicious..

🎸 shit FUCK!!

🎸 Even after his one night stand, he kept thinking of you

🎸 He stares at your messages, you sent a lot of pictures of your plush toy doing goofy things to him, so cute..so silly...he can't help but smile.

🎸 He decides to look you up on social media and..

🎸 Wait a minute...you make music too?

yep this was a bit short but idk man i love making you guys suffer <3 stay tuned for part 2 (i am actually out of ideas guys please request me please please ple-)

[rumplereids]

research purposes.

tags: spencer reid x reader. tech analyst!reader. mentions of 50 shades of grey. bau ladies are like gossiping wine moms. fluff & crack, bcos spencer has been thru enough already. referenced/mentioned sexual acts but nothing explicit. a/n: got inspired by aj cook implying mgg was reading 50 shades + the table read of cm where mgg’s name card was “matthew 50 shades of gray gubler” masterlist. requests are open !

The team is on the jet home from a consultation in San Francisco. Everybody’s either dozing off (Emily and Derek), eating (Rossi), or doing paperwork (Hotch, as usual). JJ is scrolling on her phone, catching up on the pictures and videos Will sent of Henry when she notices something very bizarre.

“Reid, are you reading 50 Shades of Grey?”

“Huh?” he looks up from the paragraph he was reading. Something about not making love and only fucking hard. Or whatever drivel he’s suffering for you.

“I didn’t peg you the type to be reading romance or erotica.”

“It’s for research.”

JJ quirks a brow Spencer doesn’t see. His eyes already returned to the book in his hands.

“Research? For Y/N?”

“Yep,” Spencer turns a page.

JJ continues to gape at him. She wants to press for more details, but with a shake of her head, decides she was better off not knowing the intricacies of the relationship of people she considers her siblings. No matter how baffled she is by the fact that Spencer Reid is reading 50 Shades of Grey, she doubts that she’d want to dip a toe in that rabbit hole. However, she has no qualms of bringing up this certain knowledge in the near future.

Spencer was in a rush to finish his case load for the day. It’s your day off, so he’s doing anything he can so that he can go home earlier than usual. With you out for the day, he can’t even pop into your office to bug you, talk your ear off, or have an impromptu make out session. It was so sad, really.

He’s down to his last three folders when Derek attempts to get his attention.

“Pst! Pretty boy,” Morgan whisper-yells.

“Yes?”

“How’s Y/N?”

Spencer’s a bit perplexed by the question. While it’s not unusual for Derek to worry about your well-being, he finds it a bit weird for Derek to be asking such a question at that exact moment. As far as he knows, you texted Derek 15 minutes ago about mold on the street that you insist looked like the aforementioned man. That was the last time Spencer talked to you as well.

“She’s fine. Enjoying her day off.”

There’s a big grin crawling across Derek’s face. Such a look on a man like Derek Morgan spelled trouble. He looks like he knows something that Spencer doesn’t. Spencer’s starting to get cautious.

“Anything exciting happened to you guys this weekend?” Derek asks with that shit-eating, I-know-something-you-don’t-know grin.

Spencer raises a brow.

“Not much. The usual,” Spencer flips a page in his file.

Morgan hums, “Ah, yes. The usual.”

Spencer looks up at Derek, perplexed. Having no idea what in the world Morgan is trying to get to.

“Late night?” Derek continues. Spencer shuts the folder in his hands.

“Are you trying to insinuate something?”

“I don’t know, am I?”

Spencer rolls his eyes and returns his attention to his work. Completely ignoring the chuckles coming from Morgan.

A few days later, Spencer is making his second cup of coffee at the office kitchenette, bracing himself for another round of paperwork when he hears somebody rush into the room. He turns from the counter to see you, flushed and embarrassed?

“Hey, darling—”

“Why did Penelope ask me how it’s like to have my own Christian Grey?”

“What?” Spencer puts his mug down to turn his full attention on you.

“She barged into my office, asking me what kind of BDSM we’re into!” you devolve into a sort of whisper-yell, eyes shifting as to check if there were other people around. The two of you were alone in the area.

“Why would she ask that?”

“I don’t know? Something about you researching BDSM for me?”

Spencer shuts his eyes in realization, “JJ.”

“JJ? What’s she got to do with this?”

“A week ago, on the jet home from San Francisco. I was reading 50 Shades of Grey.”

You take a pause, “You read 50 Shades? I thought you said it was complete nonsense?”

“My opinion hasn’t changed on that. But I overheard you and Garcia giggling over the movie’s actor… I wanted to see what it was all about.” He tries to be nonchalant with what he’s saying. You completely melt into a puddle.

“Oh, Spence. That is the cutest and sweetest thing that has ever happened to me.”

Spencer blushes red at the comment. All these years together, and you never fail to make him feel so lovestruck and bashful.

He clears a throat, “The BDSM in the book is so atrocious. Have you read it? Or are you only interested in the movie?”

“Just the movie,” you say with a grin.

“Their lack of communication is astounding. It’s completely far off from the BDSM we’re into.”

There’s a gasp behind you. You turn to see Garcia at the entryway of the kitchenette, one mug in hand, the other hand pressed against her chest.

“Oh , I knew it. Ya’ll nasty.”

“Penelope—” you start to speak. She cuts you off.

“I didn’t believe JJ at first when she said Spencer was reading 50 Shades for research. I mean, really, Spencer Reid and BDSM? Never thought to correlate those two things ever in my life,” Penelope rambles, and then mid-thought, she turns to you, “So you do have your own Christian Grey! That’s so sexy— I don’t think that’s the right word considering it’s Reid—” this earns a snort from the man watching amused, standing against the counter, “Have you recreated any scenes from the books?”

“Penelope!” you say, aghast.

“I mean, if Spencer’s using 50 Shades to spice up your sexy times then—”

Spencer begins to laugh. You turn to face him, in disbelief that he can laugh at your mortification.

“Trust me, Penelope,” he says, “we don’t need 50 Shades to spice up our sex lives.”

“Spencer!” You can’t believe the words coming out of his mouth right now. Penelope looks as if she’s hearing the greatest gossip scandal the world has ever produced.

“50 Shades is tame compared to us.”

“What?!” a third voice enters the conversation. Emily and JJ enter the kitchenette. Emily looked a bit confused, JJ looks just about ready to shit on you too.

You hide your face in your hands, trying to hide away from Spencer’s laughter. Emily, JJ, and Penelope start to bounce comments and choice words between the three of them. You hear words such as ‘unbelievable’, ‘kinky’, and the real kicker, ‘Dr. Reid will see you now’. You want to dig yourself into a hole.

Hands grip your hips, squeezing in silent comfort. Without removing your hands from your face, you mumble, “This is all your fault.” Spencer laughs once more, hands squeezing your hips one more time before he turns to pick up his coffee mug.

He moves to leave the kitchen, turning to you with a smug look on his face before he says, “Laters, baby.”

You refuse to acknowledge the three ladies descending on you like a pack of wolves.

taglist: @i-live-in-spite @khxna

[dalgomii]

۪ ݁ 이마크 — the anatomy of 'home'.

• SYNOPSIS .. neither of you have all that much to your name. but, here, in the small sanctuary of your brand new—and still very vacanct—apartment, with a mattress for bed, a small kitchenette yet waiting to filled with the smell of home and living off of takeout to your heart's content, you just might have the most priceless thing in the world: happiness.

♡ WORD COUNT .. 2.5k

☆ NOTES .. established relationship. you and mark talking through the night over a pizza picnic, that's the story. got way too poetic and in my feels at the ending and then fumbled it lol. happy first tumblr post to me, yay! :)

Lately the pep in his steps have been noticeable. Even the mundane task of picking up delivery and climbing five flights of stairs because the elevator still hasn't been installed in the building couldn't dampen his mood. Mark walks in through the front door, practically skipping, two boxes of pizza in his hand.

Inside is like a sea of knicknacks yet to find their rightful place in the one bedroom apartment tucked into the heart of a bustling metropolis.

You smile up at him from where you are sitting, unboxing the things your mothers had insisted on buying in the name of home decor. "Done chatting up the delivery guy?"

Mark rolls his eyes, setting the food on the kitchen counter which was overflowing with utensils left to be stowed away. His gaze stops at your Harry Potter mug, one of the few things finally freed from your incessant overdone packing with the wrapping paper to make sure nothing broke during transit.

If the cogs of his brain cleared from the fog of bliss long enough, he would vividly recall the story of winning it at a fun fair — a mere consolation prize as opposed to the big pygmy puff plushie he'd originally promised you. Still, no matter your carefully hidden disappointment he'd assume, you had kept the mug, taking it out every morning for it to enable your insane caffeine consumption.

Perhaps it's the fact he'd seen it with you so many times, warming your hands on a cold morning or staining the corners of the Sunday newspaper acting as paperweight, Mark had forgotten it was his to begin with.

"For your information, I was getting the scoop on the local restaurants. So when you come home too tired to cook, I can swoop in to save the day."

"So heroic, my knight in shining... takeout boxes? You know all this could be avoided if you just learnt to cook?" Your sarcasm is met with bubbling laughter, making you beam up at him. "Come here for a sec. How does this look?"

Raising a brow, Mark goes to stand right behind you, narrowing his eyes at the wall of cat pictures and movie posters framed above a white table that held up a shimmering and ridiculously fragile glass vase.

He frowned at a couple things he thought had long since lost, in his childhood home or the studio apartment he used to shared with three others which looked like it was struck by a hurricane on a good day, hung up on the tiny bit of space by his bookshelf.

Specifically a Wham! vinyl.

The one you'd bought Mark on his first birthday that you spent together as a couple. The effect of the years passed is visible on the not-so-shiny black surface marred with misplaced dents and scratches. Yet the 'I know you've wanted this for a long time. Happy Birthday, rockstar' written in black sharpie onto the center label is still as fresh as his memory of receiving it.

"It's pretty," he states finally, genuinely, and hopes to God he played it cool enough. But who was he kidding? Five years of desperately trying to be nonchalant wouldn't have been comparable to a second spent being yours. Mark adds as an afterthought, "Let's hope it stays that way if we stumble into it."

You can't help a snort, "If? More like 'when'. Your foot eye coordination is whack in the morning."

Mark lets out a scandalized gasp, pointing at you, "Take that back right now".

And you, being the responsible, independent, tax-paying adult, stick your tongue out at him making him shake his head before looking back at the picturesque nook in your new residence.

"We need to get some flowers for the vase, huh?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah", you smile over a stifled yawn, pretty and serene, stretching your hand up to your boyfriend. He takes it as cue to pull you up from the ground. His hand remains twined with yours even after you're standing. "Peace lilies. And maybe chrysanthemums for a pop of color?"

Mark finds himself grinning at your hopeful gaze, bringing your joined hands to his lips. "Anything you want. We can go first thing in the morning."

He feels his eyes widen when you cross the small distance between you, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "Thank you, you're the best," you whisper, brushing a few strands of his fringe away from his forehead before you moved away, leaving Mark standing there frozen like a statue. A very red in the face statue.

He thinks you know exactly how to make him weak in the knees.

You stand in the middle of the clustered living room, every inch of space on the floor filled with cardboard boxes and your belongings packed with bubble wrap. "I don't think we can finish this today. Plus, it's getting late. Let's just eat and go to bed, yeah?"

But everything you say goes in one ear and out the other. It's baffling how many times Mark would get stuck in his head over the smallest thing about you.

It's more of a habit he'd developed – or so his friends insist – back when he first met you at orientation on campus.

No, you weren't a wide-eyed freshmen and he wasn't one either. Yet, somehow the friend-of-the-world music major had managed to stumble upon the live art workshop your department had set up.

From then on, it was only ever "Did you see how beautiful her eyes are? It's like the whole galaxy is mapped in them!" or "She's so recklessly kind, dude! Today she ran into traffic to save this one old lady's cat! How much more perfect can she be?"

Mark Lee isn't a stranger to waxing poetics– hell, he does that for a living, writing lyrics with the power to make people laugh out loud, be a metaphorical shoulder for people to cry on, to feel so intensely with just words alone.

But then every syllable fails him when it comes to you, a soul so beyond the realm of letters and alphabets that nothing he could ever scrap together feels enough.

It's like the universe had decided from the very first moment you both locked eyes that this was it for him.

Mark knew it when you waved at him with amusement threaded into your expression from behind the stand you were running and he reciprocated shyly after looking around to make sure at least twenty times that it was indeed him you were waving at.

When Mark asked for your number after finishing a basketball game as state level champions because the adrenaline high of the win and the elation in having spotted you cheering him on as he nailed the deciding shot from halfway across the court turned him into his most confident self — only to be reduced to a stuttering mess when you saved his contact on your phone, blowing him a flying kiss goodbye before walking off alongside your giggling friends.

When his idea of a perfect first date to a fancy rooftop restaurant got rained on, and just when Mark was considering to never show you his face ever again, you both ended up in the backseat of his car on a McDonald's parking lot, talking and laughing and he found out that you were just as much of a rambler as him.

When a houseparty his friend Jaemin was throwing in their new shared apartment landed you on his bed, your lips like a safe haven, searing affection and praises onto his skin. That night Mark had been afraid to so much as go to sleep, scared that he would wake up to an empty room, and perhaps a half-assed note saying if he was a good fuck.

So he had stayed up till the wisps of dawn graced the city, holding you close and kissing your forehead over and over again. When you woke up, you had caught him in his bluff immediately, coming over that afternoon just to make sure he actually slept for more than an hour.

Mark thought love was a frightening emotion, too large for fickle mortal lives, too complex to fully comprehend.

And maybe he wouldn't really ever understand love in it's entirety, but he did see a version of it in you — one that was tailored for him and him only.

Mark knew it especially when after an entire year of flirty back and forths, holding each other through your biggest wins and losses, learning to be so well-versed in each other that it surpassed rationale, he asked you out.

You hadn't been particularly ecstatic, claiming you were going to ask him first but just as quick, your arms coiled around him in a tight embrace under the stars painted across the vast expanse of the universe witnessing that one deserted beach at exactly midnight.

Mark Lee fell in love with your smile but he kept falling over and over again for your heart. A heart that is irrefutably made of gold.

And he knew that if given the chance, he would remind you just how precious you are and how precious whatever it is you share is, over and over again till the sky falls.

It took Mark a while to bring you down from the pedestal he'd put you on, to accept that your love for him is as real as the existence of the world. Perhaps a speck of cosmic dust in the grand scheme of things but, to you, it is life.

That when you said "I want you to try hard, but try hard to be the best self of you. Mark, you're the sweetest, most hard-working person I have ever gotten the chance to know. So, please, don't take him away from me", you had meant every word.

It takes you snapping your fingers in front of his face to bring him out of his thoughts. You stand before him in a baggy t-shirt — one of his that you'd stolen ("permanently borrowed", you'd correct him) saying his detergent smelled better than your own — and your hair an untamed mess. You're the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

"Mark?" You whine again, cradling his face in your palms. "Baby, don't zone out again. Food?"

Huffing a laugh, Mark pulls you towards the kitchen island with a hand around your waist, "I'm here, I promise. Where do you wanna eat?"

You survey the living room that had turned into your temporary storehouse in dismay. "Dinner in bed?"

"Minus the bedframe, you mean?" Mark muses making you wail.

"Oh my God, for the last time, I'm sorry I didn't check the delivery date was so far away. Please forgive me, good sir!"

Mark clicks his tongue in faux contemplation, biting back a smile at your dramatics. "I'll think about it."

Pouting, you help Mark set the pizza boxes down by the matress in the middle of the bedroom floor, dragging him down to sit beside you. "What will it take for you to forgive me?"

"Hmm... A few kisses and maybe something else?" He smirks, wriggling his eyebrows and causing you to smack his chest.

"You're such a man," you hiss and then with a coy look, push him down to lay on his back as your straddle his waist. "Though, that can be arranged," you whisper low and sweet, but right as Mark's hands grip your hips, you roll away towards the food, "After we eat. I'm starving!"

"A minx, that's what you are!" Groaning, Mark drags you back into him, tickling your sides till you are begging to be freed.

Dinner goes on without either of you bothering to put something on the background. The T.V. isn't installed yet and though you have your laptops, the comfortable silence and occasional sparks of conversation are more than welcome.

"You think we were meant to meet?" You ask out of the blue, when the moon is high in the sky. There are empty pizza boxes crushed into the trashcan and two half-empty beer bottles rest by your feet. Your fingers trace mindless patterns on Mark's chest, nuzzling into his side while he leans against the wall as though it's a makeshift headboard. “Like there’s a huge, incomprehensible divine plan that we’re just... following?”

"Yeah," Mark says simply. Though you would loath to admit it, you admire Mark’s easy belief in his own convictions. "I think that people have, like, agency and responsibility and stuff, like – okay, so we met, but me asking for your number after that game, or asking you to move in with me was on me. The big stuff, that’s fate, or the plan, or whatever you wanna call it. But we can still choose where we go from there."

"So me and you — that’s the big stuff?" You ask teasingly, and nudge Mark with your shoulder.

He sputters comically, well-practiced indignation clear on his face, "Shut up, I’m trying to have a philosophical debate here.” But his pink ears betray him, a pretty flush creeping towards his neck.

"I kinda like the idea that it’s all random, though," you say. "Like, if everything’s a coincidence. If everything leading to this moment was just a lucky series of accidents. Don’t you think that makes it special?"

"I guess." Mark looks up at the clear doors leading to the balcony, one of the deciding factors in you settling for this building complex. The stars linger in the night like paint splattered on a dark canvas.

Back in his small shared rental, sitting out on his balcony at 3am smoking with his friends, he could count them on one hand.

The city is a graveyard of these stars, he has learned. Millions of wishes and dreams burdened onto the ones that make it past the blanket of smog just to be seen.

It takes him back to that small secluded beach in Busan, on a fleeting night amongst so many other insignificant ones. Two people, barely learning their place in the word, so utterly wrapped up in each other.

There, away from the glow of 10 million or so human lives, the stars were endless and shining in a way the city never lets them.

"It makes me feel like my life is really worth something," you continue, quieter, "If I’m here by accident, and I’m the product of so many billions of years of accidents. It makes me feel lucky. And it makes me grateful for the chance. To, you know, make something of that."

That night five years ago, maybe you both were different people, not at all the souls that remain in your body today. But if there's one secret of existence Mark had started to figure out, it would be that any version of him that came to be since you crossed paths, each one of them was utterly and irrevocably taken by the versions of you which followed.

And destiny may as well be a glorified lie crafted by people to make sense of this larger than life magnitude of adoration they can hold for another.

But Mark hopes, with everything he has, that destiny has led every variant of you and him across the universe into each others arms. Home.

©DALGOMII, 2024

[greyrain23]

A little bday drabble that's very self-indulgent cause I've had a bad week :)

Not paired with anyone in specific, I wrote it with my comfort characters in mind

"Happy birthday to me.."

You sing quietly to yourself, trying to keep your voice even and the tears at bay. A little cake, made in a mug you use for tea because you didn't have enough to buy a proper cake sat in front of you on the otherwise empty table.

You continued to sing as you light the small pink candle in the dark room, hiccuping as a small cry threatened to escape.. god, of all days. Work was kicking your ass. Your co-workers seemed a bit more harsh in the last few days, but you couldn't think of anything you'd done..

You blow out the candle and pick up your fork, but you don't feel well enough to have a bite of something so sweet..

Knock knock knock

The sound of a key twisting in the lock sounded, and you look over to see the door open, a tall figure standing in the light-filled hall before stepping inside.

"What are you doing in the dark?" His voice was smooth and comforting as always, but tonight, the comfort seemed to make it harder to swallow through the lump in your throat, you're eyes glossing with fresh tears as he walked over, bending to wrap his arms around you from behind the chair, nuzzling his face into your hair.

"What's wrong, baby?" You could only shake your head, because honestly? Nothing was specifically wrong.. everything just seemed like a big deal when it really wasn't.

"I just.. I dunno- everything feels like it's going wrong lately.." your words are hardly above a whisper, holding one of his big hands around you, the warmth giving a sense of calm in the mess that was your mind.

He pressed a kiss to your head, "how much have you eaten today..?"

"..hardly any.." he gave a small sigh but didn't scold you. He simply picked up the fork you left on the table and scooped up a bit of cake to hold up for you to take a reluctant bite.

"..'t's too sweet.."

"Really?" He takes another scoop and takes a bite himself, chuckling when you cringe at the sight of having to share the silverware. A strange dislike of yours, sharing silverware, yet you'd makeout for hours like it was the best taste ever. "Mm, maybe a little. Just take small bites then."

He held another bit of cake up to your lips, smiling softly as you took it into your mouth. He knows you don't see it, but the fondness and love in his gaze has no match. You may think yourself unlovable sometimes, but he couldn't think of anyone who could even come close to how much love he holds for you.

You look up at him when he starts to hum, parting his lips to actually sing the words, "happy birthday to you..~"

You couldn't hold the small giggle while he sang. It was rare to hear, but boy, was it a gift to the ears when he did.

"Ah! There's a smile~!" He poked your cheek, a grin of his own painting his beautiful lips. He suddenly lifted a small gift bag to set on the table, "got you something~"

You give him a small look.. you told him not to, but you pull the bag a little closer anyway. Pulling out the tissue paper, you take out a small picture frame, a small smile tugging your lips when you see your favorite photo together in such a pretty decorated frame.

"Thank you.." he smiles and rests his chin on top of your head. "I had the frame custom made. Y'know how many shops I had to visit to find the perfect material~?"

You chew on your bottom lip, blinking away the tears that stung your eyes again, "there's one more thing."

You reach into the bag one more time and pull out a small ring box.. you try to turn your head to look up at him, but he doesn't let you, "open it."

You pull the box open, and there sat two simple silver rings, "they're promise rings.." he explained while sliding his hands from around you to the box, pulling one of the rings out and taking your hand. "..cause I promise I'll be here for every single birthday. Every year." His voice is smooth in your ears as he slides the ring on, a perfect fit, but he knew that.

Hiccuping with silent tears falling, you can only watch him slip the second ring onto his finger to match.

He hugs you tightly again, suddenly pulling you up from the chair to hold you in his arms, making you giggled through your tight throat.

"God, I love you so much." He sets you on your feet and lets you turn around to face him. Looking into his pretty eyes, you smile as he wipes your tears and pulls you a little closer.

"Love you too.. even more.." he grins, holding your chin between his fingers to tilt your hear a little, drawing you in. "Nah, I don't think so."

You close your eyes and lean in the rest of the way to meet him in a sweet kiss, your arms lifting to wrap around his neck while he holds your hips.

Maybe it isn't such a bad birthday after all..

[hoshigray]

Been thinking about this scenario a lot, but ex-husband! Toji, where you two are pretty chill with each other, even after five years of divorce. But the feelings between you two start to parade back after all these years, and it all comes boiling over after spending one night together.

A/n: Been a while since I've done one of these scenario thingies, plus this idea has been rotting my mind for a long time, and I needed it to get out, lol. I pushed back my Gojo fic to tmrw or Thursday because my brain was not feeling like re-reading 3-4k words while running on one hour of sleep. So, instead, we're dropping this in its stead. Sorry about that, and hope you like this while I fix the fic up later today :) Any grammar/spelling errors on this will be dealt with tmrw.

Cw: ex-husband! Toji x fem! reader - implied that reader is entering their mid 30s - starts out cute the first half but smutty the next, so minors DNI - implied that Tsumiki and Megumi are around middle school age; 12 (T) and 11 (M) - pining; Toji is whipped for you, I fear - Daddy kink - prone bone position + mating press - pet names (baby, sweetheart, sweetie, mama, princess) - cervix fucking - praise - itty-bitty-tiny overstimulation - closure; happy ending (?).

Wc: 3.4k (wow, way longer than the last one, lol)

Ex-husband! Toji...

...who you've divorced after being together for four years. It was a marriage built on love, convenience, and heartache. There is no denying that Toji loved you very much; if anything, the man would set the world ablaze if anything were to happen to you. Especially when you were the sweetest thing that blessed his presence and his two children who were young at the time — Tsumiki and Megumi at age three. The fact that you loved him as much as he loved you is beyond doubt in Toji's mind. However, somewhere down the line, you felt a "shadow" that you could not surpass nor fill — the late wife of Toji.

You could tell that Toji still had a piece of him that just couldn't let the memory of his late wife go, and you understood that. Hence why you chose to leave him, which was glum for all parties, but Toji understood where you were coming from and signed the papers.

...who's still chill with you after the divorce. You two promised not to act like complete strangers, especially with Tsumiki and Megumi being close to you. Just because the ring isn't on your finger doesn't mean you must change completely. The two of you are comfortable enough to be in each other's company, taking turns watching over the kids and acting like you're still married by poking fun at one another like the good days.

"Hey, big guy," Toji turns to the kitchen hallway where you're looking at him, his usual black coffee in his mug still sheltered in your apartment cupboards. "You look like shit; too tired to go to the clubs to find some minx to wow you enough like you used to?"

He snickers at your brazenness. "Shut up, brat. I could ask the same fr' you. Got some good dick on the side to help that attitude of yours, baby?" After checking around to see if the kids are nearby, you give him the middle finger. He chuckles before sipping his coffee.

...whose kids adore and love you so much that they secretly try to have you and Toji in the same place, which the two of you are entirely aware of. Five years passed after your separation, though that doesn't hinder the children from wanting you back in their lives again. Because to them, you are always a Fushiguro, and the love for you will always be there. It's there when you go to Tsumiki's soccer games and drag your ex-husband to find a better seat on the bleachers to watch her play. It's there when Megumi tells his father he "accidentally" left his baseball bat at your place and "unfortunately" now has to spend the night there (and you always receive them). And it's there when you promise to come along on family trips, like going to the zoo and taking pictures by the Panda enclosure with his daughter or going to the aquarium and listening intently to his son explain all the different types of jellyfish.

Toji can't blame his own kin for being attached to you because you are still a mother in their eyes. And so to his.

...who has his wedding ring on his dog-tag necklace but always tucks it under his shirt whenever you're present. It gives him a peace of mind when it comes to you because if he can't be there for you 24/7, he knows you're under his protection whenever you need it. But the thought of you knowing he still wears it makes him anxious, worried that you'll take it the wrong way and request he never wears it again. So, for his sake, he keeps you blind to this secret. And he wonders if you ever wear yours...

...who welcomes you without hesitation when you have to spend the night at his place because he notices you're too exhausted to go home so late. The only problem is that there's no other room outside the kids and Toji's. And as much you protest, expressing your satisfaction with taking the couch, your ex-husband disagrees and will carry you to bed, sneering to himself as you try to wiggle out of his stronghold until he smacks the bedroom door closed with his leg.

"I told you I was fine sleeping on the couch, Toji." You complain to him, yet your back is pressed against his chest with his arm around your waist.

"And I told you not gonna happen, princess." his hold around you gets tighter, pulling you closer for him to rest his chin on your shoulder. "You'd probably fall off and smack that pretty face of y'rs on the floor."

"I would not—You know what," you stooped from saying anything further to the man grinning behind your ear. You shift a bit to make yourself comfortable. "Goodnight, Toji. And thank you."

It takes every fiber in his being to not kiss your cheek then and there. Exhaling softly through his nostrils as he lays his head back on the pillow. "No problem, sweetheart."

...who the last time he had someone after your separation was not feeling it at all. You even said he is free to do whatever he wants when moving on to the next minx that caught his attention. You two are adults and shouldn't feel entitled to putting each other on a leash. Despite that, he knew moving on from you wouldn't be easy — especially in the bedroom.

The women he's had after you can only be counted on one hand. No matter how good the fun was with the others, his mind would always crawl back to you. It didn't matter how different their hair was, what they dressed that night, or how fucking good the sex was; you would cloud his mind in some way. They weren't you. They weren't his sweet thing.

...who's extremely perplexed in a nightclub when he sees you. He didn't want to go in the first place until Satoru Gojo barged into his apartment, dragged him out in his best attire, and left Nanami (another victim of Gojo's foolishness) to babysit Megumi and Tsumiki. And it was bad enough that Gojo snaked away from Toji to the dance floor the second they got inside, the raven-haired man almost popping a vein in vexation.

So the older man resorts to just doing the usual gig: walking around before sitting at the bar to ask for a regular beer. He stays there for nearly half an hour, taking sips of his bottle while sweet-talking to the ladies that occasionally find him and give him his number. Things got really loud when the DJ at the discothèque played "Up!" by Lil Vada and DonnySolo, all the party people crowding the floor, bumping and grinding each other while singing the lyrics. It was at this point that Toji had enough of the massive headache growing in his head, so he was about to down his beer and leave the club; Gojo be damned because the fucker could find his own way home and then some.

But midway through putting the beer bottle on his scarred lips, something in Toji's peripheral captures his attention. And his jade eyes go wide at what he sees.

Down to the right side of the dance floor are booths catered to bigger parties, so it's obvious to notice when a single person sits alone on one of the round tables while everyone else is dancing their hearts out. That one person was you, observing the dance floor with your head on your hand resting on the table.

To say that Toji was flabbergasted by the image of you in a place like this after all these years was tough for him to comprehend. Yet what really had him in a chokehold was how stunning you were. From where he stood, he could tell that you dolled yourself quite a bit. Your hair was kept in a style that displayed your face wholly, and you were wearing a beautiful halter-neck dress with slits revealing your thighs deliciously.

He forgets how to breathe when your eyes drift in his direction and find him. You're just as surprised as he is for a short moment, but you offer him a familiar smile and beckon him to come to your side of the club. The older man wastes no time, paying the bartender and making his way through the crowd to your table. When he's close enough, he can tell that your dress is backless, exposing your smooth skin that calls for him to touch.

And when Toji notices the ring on your left hand — the old wedding ring he gifted you — the world around him comes to a complete standstill.

"Hey, big guy." He snaps back to look at your beautiful face, your smile still there to blind him, and the booth far from the dance floor and music so he can listen to your sweet voice. You move to the side to make room for him to sit. "Didn't think I'd find you here."

"Me neither." He admits to you as he takes a seat, his green orbs never leaving your figure. "What are you doin' here?"

"Some friends dragged me out here for one of their birthdays. I figured I'd be here for a few hours and loosen up a bit, you know? But I don't know, I guess I'm just so used to being at my place that I'm out of practice with clubs."

Toji nods at your answer. "Yeah, I was dragged here, too. I'm with—"

"Gojo? Yeah, I thought so. He's right there dancing with my friends." He pans around to the dance floor to see commotion at the center. The snow-haired man was dancing as a crowd formed around him, getting grinded on by a woman with a "happy birthday" headband.

Gojo notices the raven-headed man staring his way, pulls down his shades, and winks. That's when the reason why Toji was brought here in the first place hits him. Gojo knew you would be here tonight because of your friend's birthday. And now that you two are sitting alone, the wink signaled Toji to make his move.

"....Wanna get the hell outta here?"

You giggle at his suggestion. "Yeah, I don't feel like watching my friends get pregnant on the dance floor."

Toji snickers and grabs your hand to lead you out of the booth. He then drapes his denim jacket over your shoulders to cover your exposed shoulders and back, and the two of you leave the club without anyone noticing a thing.

...who spends the rest of the night with you as if you two are on a date again. It's late, so many shops around the area are closed already, but that doesn't stop the two of you from having fun. From sharing a meal at a nearby diner, walking around a shopping plaza admiring the silent ambiance, and listening to old tunes in his car as you two share stuff about your day while holding hands. And the change of mood completely baffles Toji. Nevertheless, when he sees the smile on your face and hears the sweet tune of your laughter, the grasp on your hand gets tighter with every minute. All his intentions go into enjoying having you with him like this again.

...who stays by your side until he has to drop you off at your place, parked his car to walk you to your apartment door. It's 1 o'clock in the morning, way later than Toji ever intended to stay out. Not that it matters now, because it's all worth it being able to walk with you. He doesn't let go of your hand even when his heart dies a little when you two arrive at your door.

"Had a good time?" You ask while unlocking the door; your eyes showcase subtle exhaustion but are overshadowed by your smile.

"Sure as hell did since I saw you at the club." He confesses, your chuckles casting a spell on him.

"Hmm, I'm glad you were there too, Toji." You meant those words, your eyes gazing into his, and the man's plunged deep into your gorgeous orbs. A feeling that he now realizes he wants to be the only one experiencing with you.

An awkward silence for a few seconds prompts you to snatch your hand away from his, causing his stomach to drop. "Sorry, your jacket" is what you use to excuse yourself, moving to take off the denim jacket. But Toji stops you, his hands stationed on your shoulders to keep you still.

"No, it's cold, sweetie." His voice is hushed, only for you to hear. "You can give it back next time."

Silence comes back again, but the air is heavier this time. The awkwardness is replaced with something more solicitous, more affectionate. You notice it when Toji has yet removed his hands from your shoulders, his large palms warming you up to the touch.

"Toji—"

"It's alright, baby." His gruff tone is still a whisper, and butterflies flutter in your stomach. "I won't do anythin'."

"No, no," you don't know what came over you, but you place your hands on his chest. Then your finger touches something from underneath his turtleneck, having you pull his collar down to pull out the dog-tag necklace that still harbors his old wedding ring. Toji's blood shifts to ice cold when you see the accessory — his anxiousness spikes up to an all-time high, only mere seconds from combusting based on whatever your response will be. And it comes.

"I...I want you to do something, Toji." It felt strange saying those words with your shaky confidence, though it's what you wished to express. "I want you..."

And just like that, whatever restraint that the older man had for you was butchered away. Emerald eyes take in every feature of your anticipating expression, and his lips come crashing down on yours.

...who couldn't care less how late it is right now because he finally has you where he wants you after all these years. It's 2:30 in the morning, way too late for loud noises as they'll disrupt the neighbors next door. But, again, Toji doesn't care about that. When he finally has you lying under him on your stomach, screaming out his name while he drives his cock deep inside you, what is there to care about?

The two of you are in the prone bone position, where you lie flat on your belly on the cream-white satin sheets of your bed, your legs in between Toji's and bare ass out for him to have easy access to your creamy cunt that hugs onto him all so well.

Tears paint your wet and sweaty face, drool escapes from the corner of your mouth and meets the sheets beneath you. The harsh thrusts of Toji's pelvis hitting your ass with such precision have you see stars, and his big hands keep your arms still. All you can hear are the ecstatic cries of your voice and the noises of skin smacking together.

"Nnmph!! Haaaah!! Ahhhh, yesssss, Daddy, just like that," your voice feels strained from all the screaming you've been doing for the past hour. Lips are swollen from the constant biting, your butt stinging from the intense contact with your ex-husband's pelvis. It's hard to think of anything but the man above you and his dick rearranging your slit like his personal toy. You never thought you'd experience this exhilarating and rewarding sensation again. And now that you do, it's all you want to indulge in. "H-Harder, pleaseeee, I want mo—Ahhhnnn!"

Toji grinds his hips down to your ass, churning your insides and grazing your cervix to the point of incoherent babbles. "Mmmm, oooh, shit, fuckin' shit. You're too tight on me, mama." He gives you a sharp thrust when you least expect it, and the walls of your chasm clamping down on his length has him hiss. It's hard to believe you're permitting him to have you like this. It's been five years. Five years of respectful boundaries and keeping a platonic relationship. Five years of denying feelings of want and desire. All those years of heavy guilt suddenly lifted from his shoulders just for him to have you under his bow again, your body quivering and voice shaky because of his touch.

It feels so surreal...But, God, Toji missed this so goddamn much. Missing your eyes, your smile, your touch, your body. Just you. Only you. "Hnnngh!! Damn, you feel so fuckin' good, baby. Can never have enough..."

"Mnnaaaah! Daddy, I'm gonna cummm, I'm gonna—Oooohh!!" The tip of his shaft scrapes the upper walls of your vagina, your brain pounding so hard to the point it hurts. "Pleaseee, let me cum, Daddyyy..."

He can tell you're close and senses your orgasm climbing up with his. That's when the pace of his hips goes erratically fast, jabbing your sweet spots and tender cervix, causing more tears to come down and your peak to finally release for the third time that night. As you cream on his cock, Toji's not too far from his own crescendo. Your velvety walls contract around his member divinely, and the older man spills his load into your quivering figure.

You're allowed to experience the aftershocks of your orgasm as you two let your bodies calm down, Toji laying his chest on your sweaty, heaving back. He then slowly removes his dick from your chasm, and the essence of your unioned sex feels cold while sliding down your inner thighs.

"Haaaaah...Mmmm, thank you, Toji." You whimper out as he lays kisses down your neck and shoulders. "Thank you..."

But little did you know that it wasn't the last of it. Before you could apprehend what was going on, Toji already had you flipped over to your back, stationing your legs on his shoulders to a mating press. And you see that his cock is not limp yet...

W-Wait a damn second—

"T-Toji, wait, hold on!" You try to rationalize with the man who aligns his shaft to your gushing vulva, and your sweat runs cold. "It's getting late. I just came three times already! We should—Nmmmph!!"

The head of his cock slides right in thanks to the slick and come lubricating your opening. Adding his weight onto you as he pushes his length deep into your chasm again, you cry choked sobs when he meets your cervix again, and his pelvis rubs against your clitoris. "Sorry, mama. Just lemme finish here, 'kay? Daddy missed havin' you like this, so I wanna give you all of me while I still can."

...who has your fatigued self lying on his chest, rubbing circles on your back and placing soft kisses on your forehead as you feel the effects of sleep slowly creep up on you. The lights are now off, the moonlight bargaining from the curtains being the only light source as you two are ready to gather whatever amount of sleep you can get.

"Hey, baby." But before that, Toji wants your attention for the last time before you sleep.

"Mhmm?" Your eyes are closed, but your ears are still open to listen.

His eyes drift down to the left hand that lays motionless on his chest. The gem on the ring flashes softly for it to be distinguishable. "How come you were wearin' your ring at the club?"

A few seconds go by before you give him the honest truth. "Same reason you wear yours. I always wear it when going out somewhere or alone someplace. Gives people the idea that I'm not ready for anyone else."

"Then why not wear it when I'm around?"

You giggle breathlessly. "Same reason why you don't let me see yours. I don't need a ring when I have you with me. A ring doesn't compare to my big man who will love and protect me wherever we go."

And Toji doesn't ask anything else after that. He lets you fall asleep in his arms and listens to your breathing follow a melodic rhythm. Your words stick with him even when his eyes close, and he soon falls into a deep sleep.

It's far-fetched to think that you two will be married again. Maybe it's possible in his dreams, but not in the real world. Regardless, Toji knows he will always stand beside you and be there for you. With or without a ring that's merely evidence of your love to outsiders. He knows you love him, and that's all he needs to keep moving. And if he could have you as his wife again, he'd sweep you off your feet in a heartbeat.

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (34/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: The boat that's actually a yacht - and it's just the two of you.

Warnings: fluff, minimal angst, Google translated French, no knowledge of boats

Word Count: 3.9k

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A/N: we're back bitches!!! love you. feedback is appreciated!

"What do we need?" you ask, taking a sip of your coffee. "Apart from Kika's spontaneous photos, I've only taken pictures of inanimate objects so far. And the one of you."

Charles shrugs his shoulders. "When Joris and I take photos together, we'll pack a bag of different clothes." When you raise an eyebrow in confusion, Charles purses his lips. "We always take several photos, for several posts. If we don't have time to take new pictures, we always have some in stock that we can use without them looking like old pictures."

"Okay." You put your mug down on the work surface in front of you. "Anything else?"

Your roommate grins. "Your camera."

"Haha." You toss it off with a kitchen towel. "I mean, do you need anything else in the way of props or anything?"

He shakes his head. "Actually, no. Everything you could possibly need for a photo shoot is already on the boat." He nods towards the hallway. "You just need long clothes in case it gets colder later."

You nod. "All right. Then you pack a bag with the things you need and I'll pack one with clothes I can wear if it gets cold later." You walk around the kitchen island towards the hallway. 

"And don't forget your camera." You can even hear the smirk, which is why you give him the middle finger without turning around. 

As you stand in your room, you don't really know what to pack. 

Although it's supposed to be twenty degrees outside - which sounds totally surreal for a day before Christmas - your weather app tells you that it's going to be almost three degrees at night. 

"How long are we staying on the boat?" you shout loudly so that Charles can hear you. You throw a large bag on the bed. 

"No idea," says Charles calmly. When you turn around, he's standing in the doorway. "You and I can leave after the pictures. Or stay there all day. Or the night." He shrugs his shoulders. "There's no time when the boat has to be back in port."

You sigh. "I'm afraid that doesn't help me much." You point to the bag on the bed. "I can't pack my entire closet, Charles. Tell me what to pack." You look at him pleadingly. 

"All right." He enters your bedroom and looks around before reaching for some clothes lying on the floor. "Here, the sweatpants are good. If you want to lie out on the sun bed in the evening, you'll need these." He tosses them to you. You catch them and fold them up to stow them neatly in your bag. "Do you have comfy socks or something?" 

"Ehm, yeah," you say, pulling some out of the pile of clothes Kika left there and tucking them into the side pocket of the bag.

Charles kneels down on the floor and sifts through the pile at your feet. "You'll definitely need a thick sweater. It's going to be pretty windy when we're out at sea." He rummages around in your clothes until he fishes out a black sweater and holds it out to you. "Tada."

The first thing you notice about the sweater is that it's not yours. The black hoodie is too big to be yours. The second thing you notice about it is that it's the sweater Charles gave you the night you went to your favorite place. 

The night Charles showed you his talent on the piano. The night you almost kissed. It feels like it was a lifetime ago. 

You can't tell Charles that you don't want to wear the sweater, even though it's incredibly comfortable. It certainly still smells like Charles, although perhaps not as strongly - after all, he hasn't worn it for days. You don't want to be wrapped up in his scent and be at risk of getting weak. The distance that needs to exist between you is the right thing to do. 

Charles looks at you questioningly from the floor and you realize you've already hesitated too long.

"That - that's not my sweater," you simply say. 

Your friend examines the sweater in his hand. "Really?" he asks, confused, smelling the collar. "But it smells like you."

You shake your head. "That's yours. You - uh - you lent it to me when we went to petits mondes," you explain as he folds the fabric and puts it to one side. 

"Oh. Right." He looks at the sweater before his gaze lands on you again. "You can keep it if you want."

You wave it off. "It's all right. Thanks for letting me borrow it. But it's yours after all, so..." You step nervously from one foot to the other. 

Charles watches you for a moment and then turns away. "All right, then. How about this one then?" He pulls another sweater out of the pile of laundry. This time it's actually yours. It's white, with red stripes on it and the collar reaches up to your chin. You definitely won't catch a cold in this. 

"It's good," you reply with a smile and catch it as he throws it to you. You fold it before putting it in your pocket as well. "What about your clothes? Do you want them in the bag too?" you ask him, hoping that he will take his clothes separately and not infect your clothes with his smell. 

Charles gets up from the floor. "I'll pack my own bag. You still have to pack your camera," he smiles, patting non-existent dust off his pants. "About the trip to the port..." he begins, rubbing the back of his neck. 

You grab your camera bag and stow it next to your clothes in your bag. Hopefully the spare battery is charged. "Hmm?"

"I suggest we take your car and I'll drop you off. Then you won't have to walk far to get to the boat," he explains. "I'll park your car in a side street and then join you. Then we won't be seen together."

You look at him, confused. "Can people just get on your boat like that? Aren't you afraid that some crazy fans will suddenly come out of - I don't know - your cabin?"

Charles has to smile. "Someone will be waiting for you there. They'll let you on the boat."

Embarrassed, you curl your lips into a thin line. Of course there's someone at the docks to make sure no one sneaks onto strangers' boats. "Okay."

You stand opposite each other, undecided, until Charles takes the first step. "I'll just pack my bag and then we can go." Smiling, he disappears from your bedroom. 

While Charles stuffs everything he can find into a bag, you gather some snacks in the kitchen to take with you on the boat. Charles has hinted that there would be a cook on site, but you might not be there for too long, so a proper meal wouldn't be worth it. 

As you prepare some sandwiches and put them in a bag, Charles appears behind you. "Are you ready?" he asks, leaning on the kitchen island. 

"Yep," you reply and place a few small bottles of water next to the sandwiches. When you look at Charles, he grins. "What is it?"

"Nothing." His grin almost reaches his ears. "There's water on the boat too, you know."

You roll your eyes. "I've never been on a boat before." 

Charles raises his eyebrows briefly before shrugging his shoulders. "It's not as special as you make it out to be."

You squint your eyes a little. "Only rich people say that."

He tilts his head. "Do you want to go on the boat or not?"

"Like I said," you start the sentence and grab the snacks, "only if I can steer it once."

Charles reaches for the keys to your Renault. "Don't you dare crash it," he warns you as you walk towards the elevator. He presses the button and a short time later the doors open. "That boat was expensive."

"Don't worry," you try to reassure him. "I'll just hold the wheel firmly and steer straight ahead." You wink at him and step into the elevator. 

Charles has to smile and follows you. "I think I'll only let you take the wheel on the open sea. There's much less risk of you ramming other boats."

"You have a lot of faith in me," you say with mock hurt and put your hand on your chest. 

"I do," he says seriously. "I'd trust you with my life."

-

You walk uncertainly around the various walkways. 

Before you got out of the car, Charles said there would be a man standing in front of his boat to help you find it. You would also have to say a password so that you would be granted access to Charles' boat. 

"For security," he explained. "We don't want everyone to get on the boat."

With your two bags on your shoulders, you walk past a few boats that certainly cost more than you'll ever earn. But nowhere is there a man to signal that you are in the right place. 

There are a few people at the harbor, but no one pays you any attention. They are chatting with friends, frolicking on boats and enjoying the warmth of the sun one last time before the year is over and winter finally sets in. You walk past them with your head down. 

Cautiously and indecisively, you walk on and the boats become yachts on which great parties are sure to take place in summer. They are big and nice and you wonder whether you should google one of the types to find out what price range the yachts of the rich and famous are in. 

You are torn from your thoughts by a man. "Madame? Vous cherchez quelque chose?" are you looking for something? 

Somewhat taken by surprise, you stop. You are standing in front of a large, white yacht. With its two floors, it towers above its neighbors by quite a bit. 

"Uhm," you look at the man uncertainly. "Je cherche le bateau d'un ami," you explain. I'm looking for my friends boat. 

The man raises an eyebrow as if he's wondering what you're doing here. Your uncertainty and searching eyes probably made you stand out immediately. You don't fit in here, that's for sure. 

When the man doesn't answer, you try the password Charles told you. "Chicken?" you ask uncertainly, but when the man smiles at you and reaches for your pockets, you exhale with relief. 

You've found the boat. Thank goodness. 

The man helps you onto the yacht and leads you past the sun bed into the interior, which is much bigger than you imagined, and places your bags on a couch. A couch. On a boat. How crazy. 

"Voulez-vous boire quelque chose?" would you like something to drink? He smiles kindly at you. 

"Non, merci," you thank him and look around. On the floor, next to a couch and a small bar, is the steering wheel, which you hope you'll be able to take the plunge on later. To the right, a staircase leads down to the lower floor, where there are not just one, but three bedrooms, a bathroom and a kitchen. 

Astonished, you run your fingers over one of the large beds. The fabric is soft and pleasant against your skin and you can almost imagine how comfortable the bed would be if you snuggled up there after a day in the sun. 

"I was worried for a moment that you wouldn't find my boat." 

As you turn around, Charles is standing at the foot of the stairs, watching you. Without further ado, you sit down on the bed behind you. "I was looking for a boat too. Not a castle on the water."

He has to grin. "The boat is still relatively small compared to the ones that dock here in the harbor in summer."

You raise an eyebrow. "Really?"

He takes a step towards you. "Really. I'm the outsider with my little boat. There's nothing under five stories." He bites the inside of his cheek. "How do you like my boat?"

You nod. "Your yacht is really nice." You grin at him and take a look at the bed you're on. "But why do you need so much space at sea?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "I usually spend the summer break here with my family. Not all of the time, of course, but when we go out on it, it's quite a few days. And I'll be damned if I'm going to share a bed with Arthur."

You try to suppress your grin, but unfortunately you don't succeed. "Why? Does he kick while he sleeps?"

"No," says Charles, leaning against the bed at a little distance from you. "But he used to steal the blanket in the past and then I had to freeze all night."

You raise an eyebrow. "Couldn't you have just fought for it?"

"Believe me when I tell you I tried several times," he rubs the back of his neck with his hand. "He practically wraps himself up like a burrito and when that happens, you've lost."

"Then I know who I'd never share a bed with," you joke, but Charles looks a little more serious.

"I hope so." Before the mood can turn negative, he smiles at you. "Are you ready? Shall we go out?"

You look at him excitedly. "Oh yes." You jump off the bed and smooth out the creases you've left in the comforter. "How long will it take us to get outside?"

"Not long at all. I think twenty minutes and that's it," he explains, turning to head up the stairs.

When you reach the top, Charles gets behind the wheel. You look at him, confused. "Are you driving the yacht?"

"Yep."

"All the time?"

"Yep." He grins at you. "Except for the time you're at the wheel, of course."

You want to jump up and down with excitement. "And where's the man who let me on the boat?"

Charles presses a few buttons and the display in front of him comes to life. "Thomas? He's left the boat."

"Are we all alone?" you ask uncertainly and sit down on the couch. "I thought you still had a chef on board?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "You brought some snacks with you. Thomas also packed some food in the fridge in case you and I want to cook something later."

You purse your lips. You would spend the whole day on the water with Charles. Alone. And you would take pictures of him, which he would post on his official Instagram profile. And you would cook in the small kitchen in the basement. The distance you want to maintain between you seems to be shrinking somehow. 

"You're not going out on the boat with me to kill me and get rid of me discreetly, are you?" you ask him jokingly. 

"Believe me. If I wanted to kill you, I could have done it on our first day," he grins and puts his hands on the steering wheel. "Are you ready?" Charles asks, glancing over his shoulder at you. His green eyes sparkle in the sunlight and small dimples form in his cheeks as he looks at you. 

Gorgeous. 

You smile back. "I'm ready, captain."

He winks at you. "Let's go then."

Concentrating, Charles steers his yacht out of the harbor between the other boats. The rocking is surprisingly pleasant and not as bad as you expected, so you lie down on the couch and wait until you arrive at your destination. Charles remains silent for a while, so you don't say anything either, worried about disturbing his concentration, but while he steers the boat, you start working on your camera settings and think about which one would be best for your shoot. 

After twenty minutes, the yacht comes to a halt and Charles turns to you. "Alright."

Excitedly, you get up from the couch and follow him outside to the sun bed you had your eye on when you boarded. As you look around, you are amazed. You can still see the land in the distance, but you are so far out that it almost merges with the horizon. Although there is a sea breeze blowing around you, the sun is so bright that you don't freeze. It's reflected on the clear water and you want to put on a bikini and jump in. 

Charles seems to notice your gaze. "Next summer, I'll take you with me and then you can swim and sunbathe here until you get sunburnt."

You smile at him. "I'll gladly take you up on that offer." You glance back inside. "Do you need to get changed or are we going to start straight away?"

Charles snaps his fingers once before pulling his shirt over his head and disappearing towards the interior. You try not to stare after him and you ignore how wide his back is and how his muscles move under his skin as he puts his shirt down on the couch. He opens his bag and pulls out a white shirt. When he turns back to you, you turn away quickly, hoping he hasn't noticed you watching him. 

"Ready when you are."

Charles changes clothes more often than you can imagine. He has different outfits ready for every pose and every location on his yacht, which he slips into in order to take the best possible picture. In between, you take a sandwich break on the sun bed and enjoy the warm sun on your skin before getting back to work. 

It doesnt take long for you to figure that Charles is the perfect man for the job. He's so easy to work with, even though he jokes most of the time and you surely have more photos of him looking funny than serious. But you enjoy it the way it is. Happy, free, without a care in the world.

When you have finished and Charles is happy with the photos you took, he suggests going home in the evening. You nod and sit down on the couch. 

When he looks at you expectantly, you raise an eyebrow in confusion. "What is it?"

"I thought you wanted to steer the boat." In his hand, he holds a bandana that he ties around his head to control his hair, which is messy from the constant changing of clothes.

You widen your eyes. "I thought you were messing with me."

He furrows his eyebrows. "Why would I do that? There's nothing and no one here that you can put at risk. And you won't be steering for long." He leans against the seat in front of the wheel. "If you want, the seat is yours."

Excited, you get up from the couch and get behind the wheel. Charles explains everything to you and you try to concentrate on his words as best you can, but he is so close to you that his scent of perfume, a little sweat and him envelops you. 

With his help, the boat sets off and you jump up and down on the seat with joy. Your hair is blowing around your head and it's so loud that you almost scream. "Oh my God! How fucking awesome is that?" You don't even notice that you've let go of the steering wheel.

"Hands on the wheel, you crazy woman!" laughs Charles, holding the wheel tightly. As you look at him, you see a spark of the Charles you know. The Charles that existed before yesterday. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" you apologize and put your hands back on the wheel. "Oh my God! Can you take a picture of me?" 

Charles takes two steps back and pulls his cell phone out of his pocket. "Smile, please."

You grin so wide it almost hurts, but you can't stop. It seems so unbelievable that you are on a yacht and even get to steer it. 

You smile at Charles, tears stinging your eyes. A few days ago, you were almost homeless, all alone and on your own. There aren't enough words in the world to describe how grateful you are for the Monegasque who took you in. Who took you into his heart without hesitation. Who was there for you without batting an eyelid.

Fuck, you love him. And nothing in the world will ever change that.

"Thank you."

He lowers his cell phone. "For what?"

A tear escapes your eye and rolls down your cheek. "For everything." 

Charles takes a step towards you and you would love to take him in your arms and never let him go again. But he stops an arm's length away from you and smiles at you. "I would do anything for you."

You feel the blood rush to your cheeks, so you avert your gaze and look ahead again. Monaco is getting closer, but you would prefer to stay here. On the yacht and on the sea. You don't want to go back to reality yet - not if you can be here with Charles. The way it was before.

"I don't want to go back yet," he voices your thoughts and puts a hand on the wheel. When you look at him, he smiles a little brokenly. "I don't want to go back yet because I'm afraid that things won't be the same between you and me. That I'll lose you. And I don't want that." 

His words hit you so hard that you can't breathe. You would love to take him in your arms and kiss him and reassure him that you belong to him like the sand belongs to the sea, but that's not the way Charles means it. 

But you don't care how Charles means it. You belong to him - no matter which way.

"Then let's not go back," you suggest. "We - we can stay here and we won't go back until tomorrow."

Charles' smile looks forced. "And then?"

"Then we'll go home." You bite the inside of your cheek and purse your lips. "To our home."

Charles exhales in relief, as if the elephant that had been standing on his chest had finally gotten off of him. As if he had been underwater for too long and could now take his first breath. He would love to stay here forever, with you, far away from the reality of all the pressure he is under. 

As you smile at him, the pressure seems to fall off him. As if he has finally reached his destination, wherever that may be. Like he's home. 

Fuck, he'd do anything for you if you just asked him to.

He motions for you to let him into the seat, and as you swap places, he brings the yacht to a halt. As the engine shuts down, he slides off the seat and turns to face you. 

"Have you ever gotten drunk on a boat before?"

[terras-domain]

Who can't afford to pay the delivery driver extra and offers to "take their tip" as a tip?

Culture Shock

Miyawaki Sakura

California, USA

Le Sserafim just finished their second performance for Coachella. Whether it was loved or hated, the girls could only pat on their backs for their performance. A good night rest helps the girls sleep through the thoughts of their whole trip to a foreign country (barring Yunjin). The next day arises, and most of the girls are still sound asleep, but only Sakura was awake, maybe being the mom of the group really awakened her mom abilities to be up early and get a cup of coffee to start the day. Sitting by the kitchen counter, slurping her cup of black coffee as she scrolls through her Instagram, yet the negative comments starts to overwhelm her, making her hands slowly lose grip on her mug. Thankfully she managed to put it down safely before she drops it on the floor, that'll definitely be a mess. Before she closed the app, a post caught her eye. A post compiling a pictures of a bundle at a Target somewhere near California. Excited, she quickly googled the area, and lucky for her it's only 20 minutes away! "Oh, that's not too bad! I could get a taxi to get there." She monologued, but her mind shifted to the other members. Will they be fine without her? Eeeeh, they probably will, she thought. She got up to her room and quickly got herself changed, while her phone still rests on her palm, texting without looking. "I'm off to go shopping for a bit. Be good whilst I'm away okie~ 💜" and sent. She got herself ready, fully changed from her PJs and now in a presentable manner, ready to move out.

Kkura had to recap on how to book an Uber ride, because usually Yunjin does it and she barely focuses what the members do sometimes, so it took her a good minute to get to it. "Oh, that's pretty easy." She smiled, celebrating her victorious achievement by humming to Easy, reminiscing her wonderful time on the big stage. She wanted to scroll on her phone to kill time, but she remembered how crazy her social media feed at the moment so she decides to just fidget around, moving back and forth to look at the cool breezy morning, blowing her hair back as she enjoys the mixture of greenery and concrete. She must've spaced out too much since she didn't realized the Uber driver was already there. "Ahem, miss? Are you, Miyawaki?" A strong Californian accent jolted into Sakura's mind, popping the bubbles of her own world which made her realized she's been daydreaming and spacing out in to the view. "Oh! I'm sorry! Yes yes I'm Miyawaki." Kkura bowed repeatedly as she enters the backseat of the car, covering her face with her palms from the embarrassment. "So....Target right, Miss Miyawaki?" He asked, the taxi driver looking through his back mirror to see the flustered Japanese lady, her pale skin turning red from shame. Sakura only replied with a nod, which was enough for him to shift his gear from neutral back to drive to take her to her destination.

Judging by the way the driver wasn't fazed by the fact a singer that performed in Coachella yesterday made Sakura deduced that he doesn't know her. Cool, less talking needed for her. It's early in the morning anyways, so she couldn't gather enough social energy to be making conversations this early. The 40-ish year old driver seems like he knew the road in the back of his head, taking turns to maneuver the busy city life traffic. It was surprisingly short, a ride that was expected to be 40 minutes long due to traffic turned to a 20-minute leisure drive with the cab driver's help. "Thank you sir, how much did I owe you again?" Kkura asked, taking out her purse from her small handbag. "It's...30 bucks miss." He replied, looking at the meter counter, to calculate how much the lady needs to pay him. "Would you also like to lend a tip?"

"A tip?" Sakura was shocked, nearly jumped from shock from hearing the driver's request. The moment she heard the word tip, her mind immediately shifted to the night where she and Yunjin were sharing a room. Yunjin booted up porn on her laptop for them both to watch while touching each other. The scene included the woman sucking off the man's "tip", which made Kkura assume that's what the driver is requesting. Nervous, Sakura gave a reply, "I-I mean I would. But isn't it a bit too cramped here to be giving you a tip?" Her reply made the cab driver just as confused. "Huh? What do you mean, ma'am?" His confusion intimidated Sakura, making her heart beat faster. "O-oh, we can do it at the backseat of course! I forgot here it has more space."

The Uber driver got himself to the backseat to the backseat after parking his car. He was just trying to get some answers to the lady's answers to him asking for a tip. And this, was not what he expected. The moment he got in, Sakura helped him to sit up on the seat while she adjusted the front seat forward so there's space for her to kneel down. "Wa-wait, ma'am-" he paused as he stares at the japanese doing her thing, taking down his pants and revealing his cock. "I thought you wanted me to give you a tip?" She asked, looking up. Her eyes sprinkles innocence, that convinced the driver to understand that Sakura genuinely believes this is what he wanted. He meant money, but this works too. "W-well Miss Miyawaki, please give it to me." Sakura enjoyed the words that the man gave her, as her mouth starts to envelope his cock, beginning to suck on his growing shaft. The sight of a beauty like Sakura sucking him off made the driver extremely turned on, his cock growing bigger fast, he was ecstatic to see it. Sakura was into it, her lips wrapping around his size whilst her tongue worked his tip. The sensation was too good to hold on. "M-miss, I wa-wanna cum!" He grunted, warning Sakura who's running an assault on his cock. Sakura continues to bob her head back and forth on his cock, until eventually she takes it all inside her throat, taking it to the base as he came deep inside her throat, filling up the sweet japanese singer with cum.

Sakura's inviting lips traps his cock, not letting him free as he starts shooting cum, rope after rope of cum shooting in her mouth, reaching the back of her throat. "Fuuck...Miss. Your mouth game really surprised me." The driver panted, leaning to his seat as Kkura starts to clean her lips, licking the residue of semen and swallow. Sakura grinned as she grabs her stuff, and starts to leave the car. "It was nice meeting you mister, hope you enjoy your tip!" She waved goodbye as her hips sway, spending her day and money joyfully at the mall. Well now the US isn't as scary as she thought, heck she might've enjoyed it too much.

[sillyuin]

Late night date with hhu

Genre: fluff.

Pairing: hhu x reader.

Warnings: Mingyu gets a little mad?? idk

Yuin's note: Part (1/2). This is my carat secret santa gift for @hearts4hansol. Hope you like it, merry Christmas and happy holidays sweetie! 🦭❤️

Seungcheol: Going outside for a drive.

After a long day of responsibilities all you want to do is sleep in your cozy blankets, but Seungcheol has better plans so he calls you in the middle of the night saying he’s coming to your home. Going out with your bf wasn’t in your plans, but it’s not a bad idea at all: There’s nothing like being passenger princess and spending some quality time with your favorite person in the world.

What is more important, sleeping or having the chance to see Seungcheol after a tiring week where your schedules could never meet? One single call was enough as you jumped into his car, and went through the city streets for a ride.

Your head tilted slightly to one side, and your eyes would squint every now and then, until you shook your head to wake yourself up and let out a big yawn that you covered with both hands.

“Do you want a coffee to shake off the sleep?” Cheol asked with a playful tone.

You raised an eyebrow, looking at him with a grimace, his eyes were fixed on the road. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to have coffee after eleven at night.”

“True, but I know a place that serves the best hot cocoa in town.”

“Sounds good, but… Where are we going?���.

Seungcheol parked in a square, the view was simply beautiful and captured all your attention. The lights conveyed an inexplicable sense of tranquility, the decorated and sparsely trafficked streets were calm and beautiful.

You felt as if your worries and responsibilities were fading away; only the here and now mattered. You sighed in relief, and when you turned to look at the driver’s seat, the first thing your eyes saw was a mug with a hot drink that emitted a very tempting aroma.

“Is this for me?” you asked curiously, your cheeks flushing lightly as you accepted it.

Cheol smiled, his dimples showing up. “As I said, I’ll take you to the place that serves the best hot cocoa.”

“Did you really drive through the city at night and do all this, just for me?” your voice sounded almost like a whisper, a bit embarrassed but with a very noticeable hint of happiness.

“Who else would I do it for?” Seungcheol asked rhetorically as he poured himself a cup as well. “I still have more in the thermos, if you’d like.”

“Do you know what would be good right now?” you took a sip of your drink and looked at him with mischievous eyes.

He returned the same look, and without saying anything more, he stretched out his hand and brought over a bag that was on the back seat, right behind you. “Did you think I would forget the butter cookies?”

You both laughed as one, clinking your cups to cheer and spent some quality time there, enjoying a pleasant moment filled with laughter and anecdotes. Then Seungcheol gave you a little tour to appreciate the beautiful Christmas decorations on the city streets.

Tomorrow would be another day where you could go to bed early.

Wonwoo: Going for a walk and taking pictures.

Passionate about filming, photography and also you. He’s always willing to spend moments together and keep evidence of those happy memories. So don’t be surprised if he calls you close midnight time just to hang out, talking about your stuff and taking pictures with the precious Christmas decoration in downtown.

After a long day filled with work and stress, the last thing you wanted was to put on a complicated outfit and do your makeup to go out. When Wonwoo called past ten to come pick you up, you felt tempted to refuse and tell him to just stay at your apartment, but he insisted so enough to make you accept his offer.

You walked together through the city streets, admiring the beautiful decorations on the lampposts and in the shop windows; during the festive season, everything changed completely, feeling more cheerful and pretty. Your gaze wandered when Wonwoo touched one of your cheeks to get your attention.

“Enjoying the walk?” he asked while intertwining his hand with yours and smiled.

You nodded slowly. “I’m sorry if I seem distracted,” and you immediately yawned, covering your mouth with your free hand. “Today was one of those days.”

“I can tell,” Wonwoo chuckled as you looked at him with a furrowed brow, then he cleared his throat. “Thanks for coming, I really wanted to see you.”

You paused for a moment to lean in and give him a kiss on the cheek; the night was perfect and you thought nothing could go wrong. But then again, Wonwoo poked your cheeks again with one of his fingers.

“Can you go over there?” he asked while pointing to a small tree by the street, which had been adorned with minimalist details. “I’d like to take some pictures of you.”

“Wonu, I'm not exactly looking my best,” you joked, pointing to your outfit; you were wearing loose clothes perfect for the cold, but not for a photo session.

“What are you talking about? You look beautiful,” Wonwoo gently pinched one of your cheeks, convincing you with his adorable smile. “Now go on, I'll just take a few photos.”

You felt a little shy and posed awkwardly, but Wonwoo had a new collection of photos on his phone from another beautiful night with you, and that was more important than getting the perfect shot.

Sometimes the best photos are taken with just simple clothes, a little of makeup, and the person you love behind the lens.

Mingyu: Baking sweets.

He’s not that good at baking and neither you are, but that’s not important as long as you are doing this together. It might turn out good or bad, but there’s one thing clear: baking a fruit cake at late-night hours never was so fun (and messy).

“I think we have everything,” Mingyu said, checking the recipe on his phone, then he glanced at the kitchen counter where all the ingredients were. “We have eggs, flour, sugar… What are you doing!?”

You shrugged when you heard his voice rising above the normal. You raised your gaze to meet his and immediately dropped what you had in your hands, almost throwing it onto the counter.

“I bought you chocolates yesterday; why do you have to eat the ones that are for the cake?” Mingyu complained.

“There was no need to raise your voice,” you defended yourself quietly, crossing your arms.

Mingyu sighed deeply, standing in front of you. “I’m sorry, I shouldn't have done that to you” He patted your hair and gave you a warm smile, that gesture was enough for you to soften your expression. “Shall we start baking?”

Nodding enthusiastically, you rolled up the sleeves of your sweater, just above the elbows. “What’s the first thing we need to do?”

“I was making sure we had everything ready,” he looked back at his phone. “Did you buy the raisins like I told you?”

“I was supposed to buy… raisins?” you asked with a distracted look.

Mingyu watched you from the corner of his eye, lowkey irritated, and after realizing you were playing dumb, he overlooked as he made sure that no other ingredients were missing.

“Okay, it’s all here,” Mingyu smiled to himself. “Just tell me what the recipe says, and pass me the ingredients.”

The night went as you both worked together. Mingyu did the heavier tasks while you diligently dictated the instructions just as they were written; a slightly tense atmosphere developed, but it was also filled with jokes, laughters and the promise of a delicious fruitcake that you would share the next day, during Christmas dinner.

Once everything was ready and the cake was in the oven, that’s when you both realized the great mess the kitchen was in. There was flour scattered on the counter and on both of your clothes, leftover ingredients were thrown in a corner, and a tower of dirty dishes on the counter.

“I’m tired, shall we clean up when the cake is ready?” you suggested, scratching your head.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it,” Mingyu said as he moved towards the sink. “Take a shower, I’ll go once you’re done.”

Without thinking twice, you thanked him and disappeared from the kitchen right to your room. After a while, the cake was ready, and everything was clean and picked up. Mingyu was surprised that you hadn’t appeared during all that time, so he went to check the bathroom, thinking something may happened.

He gently knocked on your bedroom door, and when you didn’t respond, he entered to find you lying on the bed in your pajamas, phone in hand, and deeply immersed in sleep. He chuckled softly and approached to cover you with the blankets, gazing at you tenderly.

“Merry first Christmas, my love” he caressed your cheek and placed a tender goodnight kiss on your forehead, before glancing at you once again.

Vernon: Watching bad movies for the laughs.

For someone who loves watching movies, Vernon has a long list of movies he has watched. He usually watches with you the ones he loves, but one night Vernon comes to home with snacks, drinks and a some of the worst Christmas movies he has watched. This is going to be a trip full of cringe but also filled with memories you both will remember for a long time.

You had to pause to catch your breath and avoid choking on the snacks. Vernon moved a little closer to you and made sure you were okay, though he himself couldn’t contain his frantic laughter.

“Are you okay?” his hand gently stroked your back.

“Yeah, I think so,” you took a deep breath while wiping the tears from the corners of your eyes. “I didn't know such horrible movies existed.”

“I told you it was the worst movie I've ever seen,” Vernon admitted between laughs. “I couldn’t keep it all to myself!”

You gave him a sideways glance with a more serious expression as if you were going to scold him, but then you burst out laughing again and he followed your lead. After a few minutes of unending laughter, you took a breath.

“We should probably stop,” you leaned over to the table to take a sip from the glass of soda you had poured for yourself. “It’s three in the morning.”

“Yes, and?” Vernon raised an eyebrow, challenging you. “It’s Christmas eve.”

“Yeah, but it’s the third movie we’ve watched today,” you replied between yawns. “I’d like to sleep.”

But he wasn’t willing to back down. “Come on, I promise it’ll be the last one.”

Vernon looked at you with his tender eyes and a pouty face, gently pinching one of your cheeks. You were really having a good time and didn’t want the night to end at any cost, but on the other hand, you were an early bird, being awake to such late hours was really difficult.

Leaning your head on his shoulder, you snuggled up to him, hugging his arm against your chest.

“This one and then we go to sleep, okay?” you asked in a very soft voice. “Now, hit play.”

“Sure, honey,” he said, kissing the top of your head, letting the movie continue on the TV.

As the movie went on, you felt your eyes closing every so often, with Vernon’s laughter being the only thing that could wake you for a few moments. However, when the credits rolled, the only sound was your soft snoring.

Vernon gently touched your nose to wake you. “Wake up, sweetie. It’s daytime.”

“What? How?” You quickly lifted your head and blinked several times before realizing that you were still in the living room of your apartment. You looked at Vernon with a frown and patted his arm. “C’mon, don’t be so mean!”

You immediately fell back asleep on his lap, resting your head on the pillow that was laying across his thighs.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep here,” he whispered sweetly, “let’s go to the bedroom.”

“It’s fine, I’m comfortable,” you replied in sleepy voice, barely audible. “Good night.”

Vernon giggled and just let you be, he was tired as well. Taking the pillow that was beside him, he placed it behind his head and rested his hand on your shoulder, slowly stroking you with his thumb. He looked at you one last time, a lovestruck smile barely appearing on his face.

“Thanks for joining me” he whispered, closing his eyes. “Good night for you too, honey”.

[megumiluvv]

On Megumi’s birthday, Gojo couldn’t help but bring a photo album to dinner. Megumi already knew how embarrassing this dinner was going to be for him. Especially with you around to see when he was younger.

“Oh! Look at this one. Learning how to ride a bike!” Gojo coos at the younger Megumi sat atop a bicycle, knee scraped and dogs chasing after him, determined look on the child’s face.

“Oh wait wait wait! What about when he first celebrated Father’s Day for me? He was soo embarrassed but it made me so happy!”

A photo of Gojo, Megumi, and Tsumiki gathered around a table, presumably Shoko taking the photograph is pushed into the center of the table. Gojo’s smiling brightly and holding a cake that says “no. 1 dad” in blue sprinkles and Megumi’s looking away with flushed cheeks. Tsumiki has her signature soft smile and Gojo’s sunglasses are hanging onto her nose. A “world’s best dad” mug is seen in the corner of the photo.

“Gojo, this is embarrassing,” your boyfriend mutters.

“Aww, and here’s the first birthday he celebrated with me!” Gojo ignores Megumi’s complaints.

A chocolate cake with a big “5” candle in the center sits in front of the birthday boy in the photograph. He’s got a pouty flustered expression and his arms are crossed, almost the same as he is currently. Wrapping paper can be seen in the background, his dogs tearing it up. The present sits on the couch in the background: an iPod and headphones.

The next photo is Megumi blowing out said candles, you can’t help but wonder what he wished for. You may not know, but Megumi remembers. He wished for his family to never break apart. And that Tsumiki would pass her upcoming test at the time.

The photo after that is Megumi’s face being shoved into the cake, Gojo’s wide grin almost making you imagine as if you were there yourself. The next picture is a grumpy Megumi summoning his dogs to attack Gojo, chocolate covering your boyfriend’s younger face.

You can’t help but laugh. “Megumi, you were so cute as a kid!”

You hear the dark-haired male grumble and see him look away, pink dusting his cheeks. “Whatever, no I wasn’t…”

“You were, gumi bearrrr!” Gojo teases. “Oh! That reminds me, I found these photos a while ago, thought you’d like them once you were older.”

A small envelope is slid to Megumi, neat handwriting addressing it to “My Son Megumi”. Inside the envelope are photographs and a note. The photos are of an infant, most likely fresh out of the mother’s womb, wrapped in the hospital swaddle. The baby is lying on a woman’s chest, she has erratic hair like Megumi’s.

The next photo has the same baby, now one year old. A man with a scar on his lip is propping the baby up and smiling, one that you can tell is rare. The cake in front of the small boy has a “1” candle, though it’s not lit since it’s probably burn the poor boy’s hand.

The next photo has the boy mid-step, the bottom of the photograph states “Megumi’s First Steps!” The photos continue for a while, up until the boy’s 5th birthday. You turn to Megumi, who you just realized has been reading the whole time.

“What’s the note say?” You tilt your head.

“…My parents left this for me.” You could barely hear from how quietly he spoke.

“They did?”

“Yeah.”

You rub his back and let him take in all the photos.

“Pretty cool that I managed to get them, huh?” Gojo breaks the silent tension.

“I don’t even want to know what strings you pulled.” Megumi scoffs and places the photos back into the envelope, storing it in his pocket carefully.

Gojo laughs and pokes his tongue out. “You’re so mean to me, gumi bear!”

“Enough with that nickname! What are you, twelve?”

You smile and watch them banter, gently placing a small kiss on his cheek. “Happy birthday, Megumi.”

He stops his argument with Gojo and smiles to you, a rare one like his father’s. “Thanks.”

Masterlist

[captain-bubble-wrap]

Christmas with Quinny?

"Hey! No peeking!"

"I...wasn't!" Quinn smirked, putting his hands behind his back after getting caught looking into the gift bags sitting on the coffee table. He had been getting antsy about opening gifts with you since he had gotten up. Sometimes he could be a big kid and during the holidays it was so much worse. Good thing he was cute, you always teased.

"You were, too!" You laughed, approaching him, two mugs of steaming hot chocolate in your hands. "Go ahead and open it, if you want! I'm ready."

Quinn would let you take a seat beside him before handing you a small box he had hidden beneath a blanket next to him. As soon as you saw the colour of the box you knew where it had come from. That trademark blue could only mean one thing: Tiffany's!

"Quinn, you didn't!" You didn't know what else to say!

"I may have. I hope it's okay."

Taking the box, you give Quinn a kiss as thanks before seeing just what was inside. "I'm sure you really outdid yourself! I didn't need anything like this!"

"Sure you did," he replied, taking a careful sip of the hot chocolate.

Inside, was a gold ring in a cursive script that read "love". It was dainty, classic, and so very touching. When had he had the time to get you such a gift, you had no idea but words could not express how much it meant to you.

"I love this so much!" You choked out, putting it on your middle finger. "Quinny, thank you so much!"

"You're welcome. I just wanted to get you something you could enjoy everyday." He was smiling like a kid whose mother had put his best artwork on the fridge. Things like jewelry wasn't his forte in buying, and he couldn't lie: he had help from the girls at Tiffany's in picking it out. His mom had actually suggested the famous jeweler when Quinn had confessed he didn't know what to get you. He had picked out some little things like a book or two, but in terms of the big, memorable, post-on-Instagram sort of gift, that's where he had struggled.

"Oh, I'll absolutely wear this everyday! I've never gotten anything from Tiffany's before!"

"Well, I'm glad I was able to get you something new." Quinn scooted closer, pulling your face to his. "Maybe I'll make a tradition of it?"

The kiss was long and passionate. Such a romantic Quinn had turned out to be and you loved being the center of his ever affection. His hands held you tightly, not letting you leave his side until he was for certain that he had expressed just how much he loved you. The ring truly had meaning.

"I have something for you, but not as nice as this, lemme go get it!"

Quinn slowly withdrew his hands, his fingertips trailing against your body as you got up. "If you have you."

"There's no need to pout! I'll be right back!" You headed to the hall closet where way in the back were two wrapped hockey sticks hidden as far back as you could get them. The had been a custom order to the specs of his on-ice sticks, but these had the Canucks colorway elements and a little message engraved where normally his name would go. You didn't care if he used them even once, but what hockey player couldn't use more sticks?

"How did you wrap those?" Quinn asked, arms outstretched to take them from you. "That's impressive!"

"Well, I think I used a whole roll of paper because it was not going well!"

Carefully, Quinn unwrapped the dual-packaged gift and smiled. It was like he had ordered them himself. Now, you had had some help; making a couple phone calls to teammates to snap a picture of his stick specs so you could get them just right. They had to be perfect!

"'Nobody puts my baby in the box!' You're too cute! Thanks, sweetheart." You had thought a long time about what you wanted to have put on the stick shaft. What better than what you always yelled when Quinn was sent to the "pretty boy box" as you affectionately called the penalty box.

"I thought it was pretty fitting," you giggled, excited that he hadn't found the message too cringe.

"They're perfect! Thanks, babe." His smile was so sweet, and his eyes sparkled within the twinkling of the Christmas tree. "I love you."

"I love you, too!" You pulled yourself into his lap. "Should we open the other stuff?"

"Later, right now I just want to enjoy you." Quinn buried his face in your neck as you laughed against the feeling of his facial hair against your skin. An hour would pass before you left the sofa, or maybe it was two... 

[lady-lostmind]

A Gift for Steve Harrington

Written for @steddiebingo Twelve Days of Christmas Prompt: Gifts

Rating: T | WC: 830 Thank you @oh-stars for betaing!!

Eddie has never been great at giving gifts. He tries. He wants to give the people he loves good gifts. But he’s not exactly flush, ever, and as creative as he is it’s not really make gifts creative. Hence Wayne’s mug collection, which has turned into an inside joke more than anything. Wayne doesn’t even use mugs that often. Always carries his work thermos around. But Eddie still buys every ridiculous mug he finds at the thrift store and stashes them away for Christmas and birthday gifts. 

The point is, Eddie is at a loss. He’s the luckiest son of a bitch to have ever lived because he landed fucking Steve Harrington of all people and it’s their first Christmas like together, together and he has no clue what to get him. 

He knows things that Steve likes. Obviously. He’s obsessed with the guy. Hangs on every word that comes out of his mouth. But Steve likes…fancy shit. Like shit Eddie wouldn’t even know where to attempt to find. His shampoo isn’t in the hair aisle at the grocery store. He has no idea where he shops for clothes since Eddie gets all of his clothes at the thrift store. The mall is probably a good guess but he hates going to the mall, and he wouldn’t even know where to start if he did. He could try to buy sports stuff but he’s not confident in his ability to keep the teams straight and he’s pretty sure buying the wrong team is a big no-no. So, he’s stuck, and desperate. Because fuck all if he’s going to lose Steve Harrington because he can’t buy a fucking Christmas present. He has to find something good. Something thoughtful. Something that shows he can be a good boyfriend. Something that says thank you for letting me see you naked. Because he honestly doesn’t know how this is even his life and he has to hold onto this perfect specimen of a man. 

Eddie groans, shoving a sports shirt back on the rack and stomping his way toward the exit. He’s running out of time but nothing seems right. Nothing is good enough. Nothing is– Eddie freezes as he walks past an aisle of picture frames. He hesitates, feeling like this is too easy. But he knows Steve would love it. He loves anything that has a little thought behind it. Eddie backs up and goes down the aisle, feeling ridiculous for not thinking of this sooner. He chooses carefully, taking his time picking the perfect frame and when he gets home he digs through his little box of mementos looking for–

“Aha!” Eddie snags the ticket stubs from the bottom of the box and stares at them fondly before positioning them on the corner of his favorite picture of him and Steve and then sealing it all behind the glass in the frame. 

–

Eddie is nervous. He tugs on his rings and his leg bounces uncontrollably as he watches Robin hand gifts out to everyone from under the tree. What if he’s wrong? What if Steve wants a nice gift? What if he thinks it’s weird Eddie kept the tickets? What if he thinks it’s lame to give him such a cheesy couple gift? What if it’s way too early in their relationship to give him something so sappy? What if– 

Eddie holds his breath as Robin grabs Steve’s gift and scoffs at the wrapping, rolling her eyes at Eddie. “Newspaper, Eddie? Really?”

Eddie shrugs and catches Steve's little smirk as Robin hands the gift to him. Steve looks over at Eddie and smiles before starting to rip the paper off. Eddie chews on the side of his thumb, waiting for Steve’s reaction. He turns the frame over so he can see it and gasps.

“Eds is this–” He looks up and locks eyes with Eddie. “Are these from our first date?” 

Eddie can feel his face flush bright red. He tugs a piece of hair in front of his face and nods, unable to answer with his stomach so tied up in knots. 

Steve looks back down at the frame, rubbing his thumb over the tickets. But he doesn’t say anything else. Just stares. Eddie spirals thinking he absolutely fucked up. Steve hates it. He hates the gift and now everything is going to be ruined and–

Steve finally looks up and there are tears streaming down his face and– great. His gift was so terrible and off the mark he made his boyfriend cry. Good job, Eddie. Really great–

Steve launches himself into Eddie’s lap and plasters their mouths together, holding onto him tight. Eddie can taste the saltiness of his tears on his lips and is very– confused. He pulls back, looking at Steve with wide eyes. “So, you…like it?”

Steve huffs out a wet laugh, his eyes crinkling in that way Eddie loves when he really smiles. “I love it, Eds. It’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten.” 

[eddiernunson]

Ice Cream, Bikinis, and Other Ways To Torture Him | Older Rockstar!Eddie x Harrington Fem!Reader | 18+

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Summary: The stories of Eddie Munson, front man of Corroded Coffin and his music filled the Harrington household, his albums on shelves and picture frames hung of your dad and him, young and dumb. You’re home for the weekend, which just so happens to be the same weekend Eddie is in Hawkins on a personal errand. The longtime crush on him bubbles to the surface as you meet him, giving into the temptation of small summer dresses and bubblegum gloss for the fun of it. Until your dad is called in to an emergency work meeting. Then the fun of torture becomes temptation.

Warnings: Older Rockstar!Eddie, Harrington!Reader (Steve’s daughter), multichapter build up, excessive use of nicknames, no use of y/n, use of marijuana, perv!Eddie, this chapter has some forced proximity, tension and uh oh feelings.

Describes: long hair, shorter than Eddie by a few inches, reader is described to look like her mom (can be ANY race) with Steve’s freckles. No skin colour, body shape/type

Word Count: 3.7k (it’s the shortest one, I promise I’m so sorry 😭)

Chapter 2

The first thing you did when you got into Eddie Munson’s little red corvette was peel the window open, claiming you had just needed some fresh air. It was true, as his scent had choked you as soon as you sat down on the dark gray leather seats. It’s strangely intoxicating, an odd mix of smoke, woodsy, and pure man that has you wanting to take a big whiff like some little pervert.

Strangely even from the window of a rockstar’s corvette the little town looked no more glamorous than it did from your beat up car, the small town feel of it all suffocating as you fill with gratitude you managed to get out. He finally pulls in front of a three story apartment, white walls and balconies so small they make you claustrophobic.

“Uh, how are we supposed to fill this small car with all your uncle’s stuff?” You ask, peering into the backseat as you undo your seatbelt.

He smiles, his eyes momentarily switching between the backseat of the two door car and you. “My van is in the resident’s parking lot, it should have plenty of room to move stuff over.”

“So, donation, your place and your uncle’s place, I’m guessing?” You ask, walking a step behind him to the front door of the building.

“Pretty much. It just comes down to going through it which I know, will be a fucking pain.” He reaches your eyes, giving you a small smile. “Thanks for coming.”

You didn’t have much of a choice.

“Not that you had much of a choice,” he adds as he opens the apartment door, a small bout of laughter filling the halls.

Okay, that was weird.

His uncle lived on the first floor in the corner room in a furnished spot, so all it came down to were the knicknacks he had collected over the years. You didn’t think that’d be so bad until you walked in, your eyes landing on wall to wall collections of mugs and hats and other tiny sentimental things.

“Pretty sure we’re going to end up donating most of the mugs, he doesn’t use them anyway, it’s the hats he’s been fighting tooth and nail for,” he rolls his eyes, grabbing a moving box you haven’t noticed from a stack in a pile against the wall.

“How’d those get here?”

“My assistant brought them with the van,” he explains, setting the box up. “He’s hanging out around town until we pack the van up.”

“Must be nice to have an assistant to take care of that shit,” you muse, your voice only the teeniest bit bitter about it.

He passes you the box, his shoulders shaking in laughter. “I’m aware it sounds pretentious. I only hired him when I kept losing track of which fucking thing I had to do next. Interview, show, interview, photo shoot…it was fucking never ending at times. Sometimes I needed a reminder to fucking eat.”

You grab the box from him, ignoring the twinge in your gut as you walk up to a bookshelf in the corner of the small living room containing many little things. You know time is of the essence, but you can’t help yourself, leaning over to analyze the display his uncle had created. There’s a photo in the center in a simple wooden frame, a gruff older man who you supposed would be Wayne standing arm in arm with Eddie, a much younger, freer Eddie, at least, standing outside in front of a forest area.

Eddie has his hand on his hip, squinting his eyes against the sun with his uncle's arm wrapped around his shoulder. If you’d looked closer, you’d see their reddened faces, blotchy from tears shed but both gritting their teeth for the picture.

“That was the day I left for LA,” you jump at his voice, holding your chest tightly as you turn to look around to face him.

He’s still across the apartment, wrapping the mugs and storing them in a tupperware box. “I have never seen him cry like that in my life. I was scared shitless.”

You avoid his stare, the starry eyed version of him something you’re not quite used to, something stirs deep in your gut that you find oddly unsettling.

In an attempt to ignore it you look closer at the knick knacks surrounding it, suddenly realizing it was just Corroded Coffin merch, tickets, and even demos. “These would be worth a pretty penny,” you turn over the tape in your hand, imagining a rough draft of Eddie’s untuned, inexperienced vocals. “To you, they must be priceless.”

“I could release them if I’d really wanted to, but the songs suck and my voice was even worse,” Eddie shrugs, still moving mugs into their different boxes. You notice how much fuller the one on the left is, Eddie making actual progress in comparison to your dilly-dallied snooping.

“I bet Wayne still wants this.” You sigh, placing the memorabilia gently in the cardboard box, admiring the faded ink from ticket stubs over twenty years ago. The following shelf had a full row of dark fantasy novels, every spine cracked to oblivion with yellowed crinkled pages. “Do you want these?”

Eddie looks over, absentmindedly wrapping a mug when he double, triple takes, his face lighting up like a kid on Christmas. “Oh I thought he threw those away!”

Suddenly the scent of his cologne invades your nose again as he leans right next to you, grabbing at one of the books on the shelf with a giddy grin. “I used to reread these all the time.”

“Princesses needing rescuing in some odd faraway land?” You tease, turning the dark green book over in your hand.

“Usually with some kind of twist,” he hums, analyzing the back of his paperback as he squats his ass an inch over the floor. “Dragons being in cahoots, noble knights acting selfishly, evil kings turning out to be righteously good… there was always some sort of twist,” his narration turned dramatic as the sentence moved on, a story teller’s voice.

It reminded you of one specific fun fact. “Uncle Dustin said you were his dungeon master in high school, were these any inspiration?”

Eddie’s brows furrow deeply, jerking his head as swivels sharply upward. “Somehow it’d slipped my mind that you would know Dust.”

You nod absentmindedly, taking in the fantastical names in the description. Lysandra the princess, Eletha the fae, King Alistair… “Unfortunately.”

“Hmm,” he peeps, fluttering through the pages. “Aah, Sorceress Nyrinn teaching Lysandra basic magic, this takes me back.”

You smile down at him, how his dimples are deeply embedded in his cheeks and his front canines peek from behind that wide grin as he skims through his harlequin equivalent chock full of fantasy and adventure.

“Any of these girls you’ve ever fantasized about rescuing?” You tease him, starting to toss the books in a box labeled Eddie Home. He remains silent, even a pink tinge dusting his ears. “I was joking, sire.”

“Just keep packing,” he grumbles, tossing the book carelessly into your very organized box. “I’m gonna go take a quick smoke break.”

You find yourself fallen into an easy pattern, having figured out what Eddie’s looking to keep very early on. He’s even willing to go through the boxes that have been long stored at Wayne’s apartment, insisting they don’t need any dead weight, not in Wayne’s small sized room, and not lugged across a few state lines back in LA.

One of the boxes stored in Wayne’s closet seems like it was just thrown together until you realize they were all belongings of a teenage boy. A soft smile graces your face as you imagine Wayne unable to part with the little part of seventeen year old Eddie he still had with him, even if it’s his messy room thrown into a box.

You pick up a small shoe box, the items clunkily jumping about when you shake it. It’s only logical that the box should hold a few dozen player’s dice and painted figurines. The box’s heavy weight is largely contributed to by the worn out and outdated version of the player’s manual.

You take note of the sticky notes curled and faded peeking out of the pages, messy scrawl noting a page Eddie must’ve used for referral once or twice.

One set of dice had a familiar red and plank pattern, painted to look like his prized guitar. You smooth your thumb along the ridged paint, putting the box aside for Eddie despite the protests he will so obviously yelp out.

He deserves to be a bit more forgiving of that side of himself.

There were a handful of items you picked up and put aside for donation, a few old music tapes, a guitar string placement poster, until something catches your eye; a well loved classified notebook.

Now, you might’ve been wrong, but you always had the feeling that Eddie wasn’t too interested in his school work, all items from his locker having been tossed in the garbage the moment the last bell rang each year. As you tentatively open the book, you realize it was probably the one thing that kept him going back.

Each lined paper was filled with his messy scrawl, an intriguing combination of cursive and print, extensively detailed plans for his run as, so Dustin called him, a vindictive and tyrannical dungeon master. Across the scrawl were doodles, well shaded pencil drawings of creatures and classes alike. One page caught your eye towards the end, a full page of scattered doodles that seemed eerily familiar to you.

“Wow.” You look up to face Eddie leaned against the door frame with his arms across his chest, his eyes trained on the notebook in your hands. “I haven’t seen that in a while.”

You glance back down to the page and its doodles, still trying to make sense of where you could’ve seen it. As if plucked out of thin air, a song starts playing in your head and it clicks. “Hey you used these doodles on an album cover.”

He nods, watching your hands gently touch the graphite on the paper. “You could totally donate these to a rock and roll museum; they'd think it's dope.”

Eddie shakes his head, as if the idea was ridiculous. “No one wants to see my ratty old notebook filled with my dateless evenings. There’s not even a single lyric in there.”

“But this is on one of your albums, isn’t it?”

He nods, smiling softly at the abstract doodles before glancing up to you. “I don’t want it, I would never look at it. Take it, if you want.”

You were already tempted to steal it, the notebook having a scent that’s so specifically Eddie with an added elixir of teenage boy added to the mix making maybe your one true Kryptonite. “Whaaaaat? Why would I take it?”

“Steve said you’re a fan of our music, yeah?” You nod meekly, still tracing the graphite. “Well if not, it's going in the trash.”

You put it in your purse.

Since your father left that morning, so did the tether that kept your head on straight, any lingering ideas kept at bay as you kept a safe distance. It was gone.

Keeping a safe distance as an act of self discipline all but seemed moot when your dad offered your services, now stuck in a tiny apartment working around Eddie as his gentle voice hums to the music blasting through his phone.

Maybe a dress isn’t the best choice to wear for manual labor such as packing and moving boxes, the length obviously not long enough to cover the bright underwear. Maybe it's the little allowance you give yourself to indulge in defiance against your own rule. Regardless, it was safer to stay as far away as possible.

Fate proves herself to be a cruel mistress as you find yourself on your tiptoes, reaching up to grab something on a shelf you wondered why someone elderly had a shelf stored so high on the wall, and you smelt him before you felt him, reaching to the shelf’s level to grab it for you.

“Why the hell did he have a shelf this fuckin’ high for?” He huffs, tossing the hidden box onto the bed.

He steps away as fast as he came, leaving the room with a few boxes you had packed and ready. The moment clouds your brain, his strong torso completely against your back, his hot breath on your neck as he stepped away. What the hell?

Your heart pitter patters, your whole body frazzled while you put a few more boxes by the door.

As you’re leaning down to pick up another box you hear Eddie swear loudly down the hall in disgust. He uses the lord’s name in vain several times, rubbing his hand on his pants as his face twists up in utter revulsion when you peek out to see the culprit.

“Somethin’ gross? I don’t see anything wrong with this picture,” you comment, looking around his setting for what might have set him off.

“Don’t–” his hands fly up to prevent you from taking another step. His overly wide eyes and panicked state would usually have you laughing if you weren’t so curious to what could possibly send him into this frantic state of disgust. “You don’t want to know, trust me.”

“Now I really do want to know,” you insist, still scanning the room.

“No. You don’t.” He shakes his head solemnly, his foot slowly shuffling slightly to his left. “Seriously.”

“Can I at least have a hint?” You plead, knowing the possibilities will drive you crazy all day.

“I just found a box of my old clothes,” Eddie starts, gesturing to a kaleidoscope of different shades of black with an occasional band font, unfolded as if thrown in a hurry.

He obviously is hinting towards something, but you need some more exposition. “...Ok?”

Eddie pauses to think, hands on his hips as he racks his brain for something. “Think of it this way. Think of the one item of clothing you don’t want to find under a teenage boy’s bed, twenty years later. Especially twenty years later.” He shudders again.

The one thing…oh. “Oh my god,” you giggle, hiding your obvious glee over his disgust behind your hand. “A…sock?”

Eddie nods slowly, nodding his head in what must be mortification. “Uh huh. I am burning this whole bucket of clothes that just–” he shudders, his left foot inching towards where you had to now guess what must be an absolutely petrified cum-sock lies, “marinated in it.”

A bout of laughter passes through your lips again, disguising the odd intrigue you found yourself in. You might be more perverted than even you initially realized.

No, put away the thought of inhaling in the 20-year-old musk–

“Hey, do you mind helping me with this box? It’s ridiculously heavy,” Eddie gestures down the hall to a tote seemingly filled to the brim with random shit, the sock supposedly tossed into the garbage by then.

“No problem.”

“You want me to walk backward?” He offers, reaching your eyes as you both bend over to grab at the awkward edges.

“Yeah that’d be great,” You cough, failing to ignore the cigarette on his breath just barely disguised by the mint.

Step by step you help him around the corners until you help lift the box into his van, refusing to allow yourself more than a singular moment lingering on how his arms bulge through the lift.

Wayne had a bedside table he hadn’t gone through, filled with momentums over the years. You grab one of the smaller boxes from the living room to hold them, wanting to take care of the things that Wayne had cared for. There were a few photos, Eddie in scattered years from an angsty teenager to a rowdy kid with a missing front tooth. It was obvious everything in his bedside would be moved back to Wayne, allowing him his precious memories of the boy he cared for.

Allotted between the table and the bed is a photo album, something you suspect is cover to cover filled with more photos until you get the glimpse of a brightly coloured pape, just a millisecond but enough to peak your curiosity.

By the second page you’re in tears, softly sniffling at messy scribblings with silly puns and elaborate doodles.

“Hey, when you get a sec–” Eddie stops mid-sentence, taking you in on the bare bed as you weepily turn a page. “You okay?”

“Oh,” you wipe away the tear that was shed, embarrassed. “I’m fine. It’s just— it’s so obvious he went through this a lot, some pages are worn out.”

“Let’s see,” he holds his hand out for the photo album, a drop of weight on the bed as he peers shoulder to shoulder with you as he reads over the pages in front of you. “Oh, wow.”

You put the book in his outstretched hands, watching his expression turn misty as well. The deceitful photo album is an album of father’s day cards, about twenty of them all lined in a row with Eddie’s well wishes in each one.

“I started sending them when I was 25,” he mumbles, his voice wet as he turns a page. “I figured since he raised me n’ all, he deserved the title and the recognition.”

“Seems like he felt honored,” you comment, watching page by page.

“I picked these cards out in less than a second but he puts them in a pressed fucking photo album,” he laughs, shaking his head. “Wayne is ridiculous. But he’s always been my biggest supporter.”

Impulsively, you nudge your chin on his shoulder affectionately, watching him flip through the last through the final few pages. You wondered if his vulnerability making you even crazier for him would be an isolated incident.

God sure had a sick sense of humor when he tied emotion and lust for women.

Turns out, you two work remarkably well together because by the time Eddie places the photo album in the box with a not so subtle sniffle, Wayne’s room, kitchen, and livingroom are all packed up and ready for distribution. The things going home with Eddie and to Wayne’s room are in the van stacked like tetris with your very ‘helpful’ commentary and the donations are piled up by the front door waiting for their collection.

The little red corvette has been sitting in the hot sun for a few hours by the time you’re back into it, ready for a night off your feet.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” Eddie comments, taking a turn away from your house.

Your stomach growls at the mention of food, still only two slices of toast being the one thing used to sustain your appetite for the day. “I could definitely eat.”

“Good, I need to thank you for your help.”

You avoid his intense gaze from the corner of your eye, staring holes into your thighs. “It was nothing–”

“What’s your favourite spot in town?” Eddie seems to be ignoring your protests, meeting them with an exaggerated huff as if you were acting foolish.

“I don’t mind if you take me to the nearest one, Munson. I’m starving,” you insist, laughing at the manic shaking of his head.

“I’m not taking you anywhere except your favorite spot,” Eddie insists right back, without missing a beat.

No wonder he and Steve had managed to stay friends for so long, he matches your stubbornness step for step.

“Fine! Take me to Miss.Tina’s I haven’t had their burgers since I’ve been back,” you think back to their fully stacked burgers paired with their crinkle fries drizzled in mustard. You still haven’t been able to find a burger from a local restaurant near your campus that even rivals Miss.Tina’s recipe.

“Oh, I know you’re fucking with me,” Eddie laughs, taking the left turn at the traffic lights.

“Nope,” you inform him, shaking your head slowly. “It’s always been my favourite place in town.”

“Well call that dumb luck, because it’s my fuckin’ favourite place, too.”

“I take it back.”

You laugh at his deadpan, noting the new decor around the walls since the last time you’ve seen it.

“It’s not that bad.” It is, you’re just hoping he doesn’t leave because of the change.

“Are you shitting me?” Eddie deadpans, glancing around to the updated insides now turned into a hollow husk of a restaurant. At least, it certainly felt like the funeral march of your once beloved restaurant. “It’s a horrendous study in interior design. Who the hell paints the inside of a restaurant bright orange?”

“Ok, it’s that bad, but I just need a damn good burger.” You lead the way into the line, noting their updating point of sale. Last time you were there the employee had still been using a notepad, this time an iPad had been stationed on a stand.

The employee now wears some updated uniform barring the design, a bright smile on her face as she greets the two of you. Definitely not the deadened stare you were used to.

The mustard packet you received was a third of the size of what they used to be. It seems Miss.Tina’s has finally met empty corporate capitalism.

The decor might’ve changed, but the recipes remain as always untouched, a collective groan in satisfaction in your first bites in the tacky booth confirmation that Miss.Tina’s still fucks.

“If they change their recipe they are so screwed,” Eddie says exactly what you’re thinking between bites, wiping his face from the sauces that splatters his lips. As he wipes it off, you start to think of making out with him in the booth and lapping up and cleaning his messy face for him. Some real good messy make outs.

You nod, taking a sip from the large soda that must be at least 5 ounces smaller. “Oh, they’d shut down within the week.”

“This was one of the only few places where every group in Hawkins High could be seen, because they didn’t care when we loitered and Miss.Tina treated us like her own.” Eddie glances upward at a sign right by the table, NO LOITERING.

“That’s kind of really depressing,” you sigh, munching on your fry through a fucking wooden fork. “I am not sure I want these fries lathered in mustard enough to also add the taste of wood to it.”

“Plenty of wood has been tasted in these walls before,” Eddie smirks, raising his pierced brow when you choke on the following fry.

It’s like he prides himself on how he manages to make your brain short circuit so easily. Thankfully, years of being raised in the Harrington household has trained a keen sense of wit into you. “Judging on those princess books, Munson,” you take another sip, letting the beginning of your sentence settle in, “doesn’t seem like yours was one of them.”

The fry that bounced off your forehead the moment after was worth it, and the rosy pink that bloomed across his cheeks was even more so.

-

I have 99% done at this point I’m so excited for y’all to read it!!!

Main taglist: @arlxt @alastorssimp @mmunson86 @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420

Taglist for Ice Cream, Bikinis, and Other Ways To Torture Him: @emxxblog @transparentenemypenguin @stylesxmunson @ali-r3n @mediocredreams @miaajaade @dreamerjj @prestinalove @pretty-pink-princess @alesiaaa @moonisu @love-anonymous-writer @marlena-marlena @bl1ssfulbaby @kellsck @rockmusiciscalming12 @eddie-munsonsbitch

[lilyprettyremy]

Redefining Femininity: Your Guide to Embracing Grace and Inner Strength

Hey love,

Let me tell you about something that’s completely changed the way I see my day-to-day life: stepping into my Soft Girl Era. It’s not just an aesthetic or a mood, it’s a whole mindset that’s about slowing down, showing yourself love, and finding joy in the tiniest things.

And listen, I get it. Life gets crazy, and sometimes we feel like we need to keep up with everything. But honestly? There’s magic in choosing softness and deciding that you deserve the good things, right now. Let me share how I’m doing it and how you can, too:

Romanticize Your Life

I used to wait for big moments to feel good—birthdays, vacations, those rare “perfect” days. But here’s the thing: life isn’t made up of perfect days. It’s the little ones that count! So now, I’m pouring my coffee into the prettiest mug I own, spritzing on perfume even if I’m just staying home, and playing my favorite music while I do my skincare.

Use your best things every day—your fancy candles, your satin pillowcases, your sparkling water in a wine glass. Why not?

Pick one “special” activity you love and make it part of your routine. Journaling, reading a dreamy book, or even sitting outside to watch the sunset can feel like a treat.

Glow Through Your Style

Soft Girl vibes start with wearing what feels good to you—literally and emotionally. For me, that’s cozy knits, flowy dresses, and the kind of jewelry that makes me feel like the main character. I’ve started thrifting pieces that bring me joy and pairing them with staples I already loved.

Go through your closet and pick the pieces that feel like you. Maybe it’s pastels, maybe it’s neutrals—whatever makes you feel soft and confident.

Accessorize! Add gold hoops, a simple hair bow, or your favorite gloss.

Care for Your Heart and Mind

Let’s get real: being soft doesn’t mean being weak. It means being honest with yourself and letting your emotions flow without shame. Lately, I’ve been journaling almost every day—it’s like having a heart-to-heart with myself. Sometimes I even set a timer for 5 minutes and just write everything I feel. It’s so freeing!

Start or end your day with journaling. It doesn’t have to be deep—write about what made you happy or even what annoyed you.

Try a mini reset when things feel overwhelming: sit in silence for a moment, take a deep breath, or cry if you need to. It’s all okay.

Create a Beautiful Space

I used to think my environment didn’t matter much, but wow, was I wrong. When my space feels cozy and pretty, I feel better. Adding fresh flowers, twinkly lights, or even a soft blanket can completely shift the vibe.

Add one small thing to your space that makes you smile—like a cute photo, a plant, or even a thrifted vase.

Try a mini DIY: create a vision board with quotes, pictures, and colors that inspire you. Tape it to your wall or keep it in your journal as a reminder of what you’re working towards.

Nurture Your Relationships

The best part of my Soft Girl Era? Feeling closer to the people I love. I’ve been making an effort to check in with friends, even if it’s just a quick voice note or a funny meme. It’s not about perfection; it’s about connection.

Send that “I miss you” text you’ve been thinking about. It might just make someone’s day.

Be present in conversations. Put down your phone when you’re with people and really listen.

Make time for the relationships that feel good and let go of the ones that don’t.

Softness Is Strength

Choosing softness doesn’t mean you’re fragile, it means you’re strong enough to prioritize joy and kindness in a world that can be harsh. Every time you choose to take care of yourself, you’re showing the world, and yourself, that you’re worth it.

So, let’s lean into this together. Light that candle, grab your coziest sweater, and step into your Soft Girl Era. You deserve a life that feels gentle, beautiful, and completely yours.

What’s one thing you’re doing for your Soft Girl Era today? Let me know—I’d love to hear! 💕

[hunnysnoops]

ミ★ 𝒟𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒦𝓎𝓁𝑒 𝐵𝓇𝑜𝒻𝓁𝑜𝓋𝓈𝓀𝒾 𝐻𝒞𝓈 ★彡

(+some general)

MASTERLIST

Doesn’t crush often but when he does, he crushes hard

Hot take- we would not choose a study date as a first date

^ I see him as the kinda guy who dates with a long term goal in mind and would want to get to know someone well off the bat

^ Bro is not messing around- he would want a first date where the two of you talk a lot and he can get to know you before committing

^I think his ideal first date would be a movie then a cafe/restaurant. Movie first so there’s a couple hours to ease the awkward first date tension and then coffee/food to talk about the movie and eventually branch the conversation out

He sends those cryptic texts like “be alert…” when there was mugging in town or something

Tags you in every post he sees. You’ll wake up and check social media to thirty messages in your inbox and they’re all from Kyle

The kinda guy to be like “Did you look at the post I sent you about the guy at the bus stop?”

Got his account banned on Twitter and went absolutely ballistic while you tried to calm him down

Runs Hay Day like it’s the navy

Definitely the type to be hooked on his phone until it dies and then complain that you’re on yours “Bro, let’s just talk about the political and economic state of the world right now…”

This might be another hot take but I don’t think he would want a childish partner, he want to be your boyfriend not your dad

^Having to zip up your coat, tie your shoelaces, or cut your food- I don’t think he would mind doing it a couple times but repeating offences would irritate him

Not big on pet names

^ I think he would be one to call you ‘bro’ ‘man’ and ‘dude’ a lot just out of habit but would probably just call you an abbreviation of your name if anything

^ perhaps babe on very rare occasion

HATES PDA

^ I fear I may have many hot takes in this post

^He would be pretty touchy in private but in public? Hell no

^ talks shit about couples who can’t keep their hands off each other in public and absentmindedly wrinkles his nose in disgust

^ the only PDA he would accept is hand holding or a quick hug

Calls and FaceTimes you out of the blue but will immediately hang up if you’re busy or with other people and call back later

He is either the most sound sleeper ever or he wakes up at the drop a pin- either way, he always ends up slinging his lanky arms around you

He’s weirdly good with hair and would have no problem braiding yours or styling it

Super supportive aspiration wise

^ sports games? He’s the loudest in the crowd. Theatre? He’s on the edge of his seat watching. Art? He’s looking at your creations like they’re in a museum.

If you have bad habits (smoking, drinking, etc.) he would try to ease you out of them but if that fails it would definitely cause conflict in the relationship

Has his moments where he snaps at you

Fights wouldn’t be often but they would be big

He would enjoy playful banter and someone who challenges him to improve

I think he would enjoy a lot of the lower beats of the relationship like staying in to watch movies, cooking together, walking and talking, silently enjoying each others company, etc.

He posts Instagram carrousels and every single one has a picture of you in it

Doesn’t even entertain people who try to flirt with him “No, thanks.” “I’m dating someone.” “I’m good.”

Shows you Reddit posts and complains about how obviously fake they are

Gets irritated by bad acting in movies “He called her Courtney Dove, fucking idiot.” “Why does she chew like that?” “Her accent sounds fake.”

Has a secret TikTok account and doesn’t know that you watch his videos on a fake account

He is well aware of rage bait but it still makes him mad because so many people fall for it so he’ll end up commenting anyways

Easily jealous

^ if he sees you talking to another guy he doesn’t trust he’ll insert himself into the conversation and pretend he knows what’s going on

Checks up on you a lot

^ He just has to know that you're okay, he has to be sure that you're safe and that if something were to happen, you would call him without thinking twice.

He wants to communicate but he’s lowkey really bad at it and can’t get in an argument with you without yelling

I imagine him as a runner

^ he’ll probably run to your house at ungodly hours, drink some water, give you a kiss, and keep running

^also lovvvves to show you his stats

He’s really good at cooking and always takes control when you two are cooking/baking together

Didn’t want to dress up on Halloween but you ultimately coerced him into doing a corny couples costume

Has a longer skincare routine than you do

He’s one of those guys to pretend to hate the reality shows and soap operas that you watch- he’ll peak from his phone, then stand from behind the couch and then he’s fully invested in the plot

[cinnajun]

ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗: zb1 when they get jealous

a/n: this is my istj waiting room activity

notes: yujin is not included due to his age, jiwoong’s is set in the real world (aka he’s an idol), did not proofread

wc | 4.2k

jiwoong

i don’t think jiwoong gets jealous often

it’s just not his first thought when it comes to certain things LOL

but, depending on the situation, he absolutely will get jealous, but not in the way most people do

many people digest jealousy/envy as a big emotion but i don’t think it’s very big for jiwoong

and he knows that his jealousy isn’t something you should have to deal with but he doesn’t want to deal with it either so he’ll do his best to get rid of the issue without you knowing, which means making up creative ways to squash the situation

they all incorporate wherever you are

so let’s say you’re at the mall, you’re waiting for him to get out of a store, and a guy walks up to you and starts chatting you up

jiwoong will walk up to you and smile at whatever guy is flirting with you, acting completely fine

and then he’ll dip down and whisper something into your ear, and it’s usually something super unserious

“there’s a 50% sale at the ice cream shop and you get a fun cup for free”

you’re gone, he’s happy, and whatever guy was chatting you up is completely out of the picture

things are different when it comes to his members though

he always knew you liked kids and was well aware that you often volunteered to help out with kids, and he knew that you tutored high school students throughout university

nevertheless, jiwoong never thought han yujin would be his worst enemy

JIWOONG IS NORMALLY the most patient person you know—he can sit with you in a shop for an hour, watching you debate over two different mugs to buy without voicing one complaint. However, for some reason, watching you cook Yujin’s lunch is the worst thing he’s ever had to experience.

You had insisted on it after finding out he was planning on going to school after how long they’d been promoting, saying that it would be hard for him to go to school without anyone to cook him lunch. Jiwoong insisted that Hanbin probably would’ve, but you brushed him off, saying it wouldn’t take you long.

An hour and a half later, he was still sitting there, watching you cut watermelon into flowers. It was nearly 8 o’clock, and the movie you were going to was due to start at 8:45—meaning you had to leave soon.

“Are you almost done?” he asked, putting his down on the counter. You scoffed, putting the lid onto the last section of Yujin’s lunch box.

“What’s up with you?” you asked, beginning to wrap it up. “You’ve asked three times in the last hour.”

“I’m jealous that you’re spending more time fussing over Yujin’s lunch than hanging out with your boyfriend, whom you haven’t seen in a long time.”

“You’re jealous over Yujin?” you asked, exasperated, turning around and putting your hands on your hips. “He’s your kid too! You should help out! What father is jealous of their own child?”

zhang hao

there are 2 men in zb1 that don’t get jealous literally ever and hao is one of them

literally how could he be jealous when he’s zhang hao

most of the time, actually, you’re the one getting jealous (which makes sense, because he’s zhang hao)

and he always mocks you for it, which you hate

he’ll say something like “aw, do you think they’re going to steal me away from you?” and you have to resist the urge to punch him in the stomach

so when he actually gets jealous it is sooooo much fun for you

you milk it to no end. it is an opportunity you CANNOT waste

most of the time, it happens at his fancy violinist events, where you meet other people who are just as talented and impressive as him (and sometimes, they’re pretty attractive, too)

when he’s jealous, he sticks to your side and gets a little bit mean, especially towards whoever he’s jealous of

gets super touchy too

has a hand around your waist and drags you around with him just to make sure everyone gets the big picture

one day, he notices you and hanbin have been hanging out a lot all of a sudden, and it makes him really, really jealous

mostly because he can’t do his little flaunt routine, because he’s flaunted you to him enough

and then you realize he’s jealous that you and hanbin have been spending a lot of time together planning his birthday party

so obviously you capitalize on it immediately

it backfires on you

HAO WASN’T TRYING to be dramatic, but when he swung the door to Hanbin’s apartment open, having dug the spare key out from under the mat, he couldn’t help but march in like a soldier going to war.

You and Hanbin were sitting at his dining table, both of your laptops open. You had a cup of tea on the table, too, in a mug Hao knew he’d gifted Hanbin for his birthday a couple of years back.

“You let him make you tea?” he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air like he was in some sort of drama. Both you and Hanbin stared at him in a mix of shock and confusion, wondering what in the world had caused him to barge in like that. Sure, you were beginning to pick up the fact that he was jealous of your business meetings with his best friend, but you weren’t exactly aware of how far you’d let it progress.

“Well, I made the tea—”

“You know where he keeps his tea?” he cut you off, staring at you while tapping his foot on the ground. “I am sick of this. How am I being left out by my partner and my best friend? What did I do to deserve this?”

“I think you’re getting the wrong idea,” Hanbin said, slowly closing his laptop. “We aren’t hanging out, per se, so we aren’t exactly leaving you out.”

“Then why have you spent hours upon hours together over the past week?”

You placed a hand over your mouth, trying to stop from laughing. “Hao, please be serious. What’s next week?”

His cheeks turned bright red, and you wished you could’ve got his big outburst on video.

hanbin

i am a believer that hanbin get sooo jealous (have you seen him glare at people's interaction with hao LOL)

he’s like the nicest guy on earth so there has to be one negative emotion that he feels

and it’s quite literally only over his loved ones, nothing else

will get jealous if people spend too much time with hao

will get even more jealous if people steal your attention away from him

he doesn’t even get jealous over things he should be getting jealous over, it’s things he hallucinates

“that guy stared at you a little too weirdly…”

“he was just our waiter?”

“still he was too friendly…i got bad vibes”

when hanbin gets jealous, though, it’s not very serious and never causes a problem between you two

he might hold your hand a little tighter or not be very fond of leaving you alone, but otherwise it’s not an issue

there are instances where his jealousy can get serious, and most of the time it’s pretty warranted (and this is when hanbin leans towards protective)

you’ll be watching one of his performances among a bunch of his peers and someone will get a little too touchy with you

and dancers are very hot so he might get a little insecure too

he will stomp over to you, sweaty and tired, and drag you away without saying a word to whoever was chatting you up

other than that his jealousy is kind of cute

hanbin doesn’t view any of the boys as enemies but sometimes matthew can be super cute

and while he considers matthew one of his best friends sometimes he forgets that matthew is just like that and isn’t trying to woo you

matthew, however, is well versed in the art that is hanbinism and is immune to it

YOU KNOW HANBIN like the back of your hand. He’s sweet, pretty, and enjoys being around the people he loves. And, you know for a fact Matthew is one of the people he loves. Nevertheless, when he skips up to you two with a white rose he picked, Taerae in tow, you can practically see a vein pop out of Hanbin’s head.

“Look at how pretty this is!” he smiled, and you nodded, agreeing with him. “Taerae and I found a bush of them, and I figured I’d pick one to give to you.”

You hear Hanbin scoff, and, feeling panic rush up your throat, you turn to him with horror flowing through you. The look in his eyes is dangerous, and a sort of shallow smile appears on his face—you don’t like it one bit. You turn back to Matthew, who seems completely unphased, and instead keeps talking.

“Here,” he said, holding it out to Hanbin. He stares at it, raising his eyebrows in confusion.

“I thought you were giving it to [First]?”

“Huh? That would be weird,” Matthew replies, tilting his head. You hear Taerae begin to laugh, likely at Hanbin, and you have to hold back a little chuckle as well. “Wouldn’t you be the one to give a rose to them? Anyway, here you go.”

Hanbin, dumbfounded, takes the rose from Matthew’s hand, and he and Taerae disappear off into the distance.

matthew

matthew is #2 of men in zb1 who don’t get jealous often

literally doesn’t have the brain capacity for it

he’s like a universal friend, and universal friends don’t get jealous of anybody, nor do they distrust their significant others

a more appropriate word to use would be uncomfortable

at least that’s what matthew says when he gets jealous LOL

he genuinely doesn’t think he feels jealous because he doesn’t have any worry that whoever is talking to you is going to “steal” you away from him, but he certainly doesn’t appreciate anybody hardcore flirting with you

he can handle a “you’re so pretty” or an “i love your outfit” but if someone is persisting and he can tell you’re uncomfortable (both factors have to be present, or he’ll just let you handle it yourself) he will do his best to shut it down

but in the matthew way

so he walks over to you with a big smile on his face and starts talking to you like he normally would

“hey, babe, i lost you for a second”

whoever’s talking to you literally can’t keep going because of how nice matthew is

“oh, who’s this? it’s nice to meet you! i’m [first]’s boyfriend, matthew”

they’re gone within 2 minutes and matthew is feeling successful

he’ll probably give you a kiss on the cheek afterwards just to hammer home his point

he will, however, admit that he gets jealous of the other members lol

it’s mostly because he considers them his friends, though, so the idea that you’d be into one of them is scary to him

as a result, he gets a little wary when he stumbles upon you chatting with jiwoong at a party

BEFORE MATTHEW LEFT to go get a drink, you were sitting on the couch, playing a game on your phone. He planned to tell you that you could leave after he finished the drink, but when he returned, Jiwoong was sitting across from you, speaking with you.

The smile on your face was genuine, and you seemed overjoyed that you weren’t bored anymore. And, subconsciously, Matthew took it as you being happy that Jiwoong was talking to you, and not because you were glad you wouldn’t have to drag Matthew away from his friends anymore (which was the truth).

He sat back down next to you, sitting on the edge of the seat and putting his cup down on the coffee table. You smiled at him, and Jiwoong said his hellos, to which Matthew replied less than enthusiastically.

“We were just chatting about the new art exhibit that opened up at the museum. You know, the one we went to last week?”

“Yeah, I remember,” he said, taking a long sip of the drink. You raised an eyebrow, finally picking up that Matthew was feeling a bit jealous. “You planning on going again, or something?”

“Nope,” Jiwoong cut in, leaning back in his chair. “Actually, [First] was just talking about how much she enjoyed going with you, as you seemed to like it a lot. She said your eyes were sparkling the entire time.”

Matthew shut up quick after that, and you didn’t mention it ever again.

taerae

taerae’s jealousy is silent

you won’t know he’s jealous until well after the event has occurred

he might bring it up in passing weeks later and you’re absolutely dumbfounded

mostly because you had no clue

“you were jealous?”

“yeah, he kept staring at your lips and was getting super touchy with you. how would i not be jealous?”

you think about the interaction for hours afterward, you skim through all the memories, and you cannot figure out where he conveyed he was jealous

he’s so good at masking any negative emotion that when you manage to notice his jealousy it’s almost a little bit scary

you’ll be talking with someone, it doesn’t matter who, and you’ll look over at him for a second and notice this weird look in his eyes

and then you’ll be hyperaware of how everything he says has this sharp edge to it

little jabs that neither you or whoever you’re talking to would be able to pick up unless they were actively looking for hostility

lowkey it’s kind of attractive LOL

taerae’s usually the picture of “kind” so seeing him go into a lockdown mode is a bit fun for you, even if it’s barely noticeable

after the event that made him jealous he’s super touchy with you which is also fun for you

because taerae gives gooood hugs and is comfortable to lay on

so, long story short, if he’s ever jealous of the boys you don’t know until afterward

sometimes even weeks after the fact

and obviously when you were fawning over zhang hao after his violin recital, which taerae had taken you to, you weren’t exactly aware of the way he was staring at hao

WHEN TAERAE GRABS your hand about a minute into your drive, lacing all of your fingers together and pulling your hand onto his lap, your jaw drops. You turn to look at him with shock on your face, trying to find the words to say. “No way,” you gasped, putting your other hand over your mouth. 

He looks over at you for a brief second, confused as to why you’re suddenly making such a big deal that he was holding your hand. “What? I don’t understand.”

“You were jealous? Of Hao?” you exclaimed, letting your hand drop from your mouth. “Why? I mean, he did well, did he not? Was I too complimentary? Do I need to reel it back next time?”

“What? No, you were just being nice. Where did you get the idea I was jealous?”

“You say that, but in a month and a half, you’re going to be like, ‘You know what made me super jealous?’ and then you’re going to drop three bombs on me,” you replied. “And this is going to be included. So, just say it now, so we can get it over with.”

Taerae blinked a couple of times, tightening his grip on your hand. “Okay, maybe I was a little jealous—”

You wrenched your hand away from his, clapping excitedly. “Oh, I’m a genius! I have a degree in Taeraeology now, seriously.”

“What in the world is Taeraeology?”

ricky

when ricky gets jealous it’s like not a competition

he just shuts the situation down

i mean he’s so tall and so gorgeous that anybody who tries anything with you is immediately so intimidated the moment he does anything, he barely even has to talk

he literally has a neck tattoo like that’s terrifying

as a result he does not have the time to get seriously jealous because anyone who’s flirting with you is sprinting away the moment they lay eyes on him approaching you

most of the time people don’t even try anything anyway because they see you with him before you’re separated

for the few that are willing to stand up to ricky, it’s pretty funny for you to watch

“[first], who’s this?” and you watch the competitor cartoon-gulp right in front of you

they maybe last about 15 seconds before they bid you goodbye out of pure intimidation like good for you ricky

if it’s one of the days where he looks incredibly cute and soft (you know what i’m talking about) things tend to go south because ricky is awkward and his strong suit is rbf

at which point you end up having to be the one to be like “okay, me and my boyfriend are going to head out now!” LOL

among the jebis the only one ricky is going to get jealous of is gyuvin and that’s because they’re the same age and very close

he knows gyuvin will never make a move on you but that doesn’t stop him from getting jealous when gyuvin is taking up too much of your attention

and he’ll straight up tell him to fuck off too LOL

riyangis i get you

GYUVIN LOOKS LIKE he’s about to burst into laughter as Ricky stands next to you, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. He never takes Ricky’s jealousy seriously, which you understand why, given the fact that they’re best friends, and he has absolutely no interest in you whatsoever.

“You should go home now,” Ricky insists, motioning towards the front door. “I think we’ve hung out for long enough today.”

It was partially your fault for introducing a topic Ricky wasn’t versed in, but Gyuvin was the only other person you knew had watched the show you were watching, and you were itching to talk about it with somebody who understood. But, you’d pushed it too far, and he’d gotten a bit upset that you were focusing on Gyuvin when he had barged into your date.

“Aw, but [First] is my friend, too.”

“And, if we were both drowning, she’d choose me over you. What’s your point?”

Gyuvin burst into laughter, clutching his stomach as he wobbled towards the door. You held back your laughter as best you could, nearly losing it as Gyuvin struggled to put on the pair of bright yellow Crocs he decided to wear when he walked over. He opened the door and slammed it shut, yet you could still hear him laughing outside.

Then, you couldn’t hold it back anymore. You laughed so hard that you also had to hold your stomach, and Ricky marched away from you, ignoring the halfassed apologies that fell from your lips.

gyuvin

gyuvin isn’t usually a jealous guy but he can get jealous, as opposed to hao and matthew who virtually never get jealous

when he gets jealous though it’s somewhat upsetting

it usually means something happened that wounded his pride or made him feel insecure, which you don’t enjoy obviously

so 99.9% of the time, if gyuvin is jealous, it’s because one of the members did something to/with you that he wasn’t super okay with

it’s never anything minute, like one of them liking an instagram post or something stupid, rather something happening under his nose

he loves and respects them a lot so the idea that they did something with his s/o without him knowing makes him super duper unhappy

and then he’ll start to think that there’s something they have that he didn’t, so he gets a bit insecure, too

but he absolutely will convince himself it’s not a big deal so then he’s just in an extra bad mood for the rest of the day

you usually have to squeeze whatever’s wrong out of him and, when you manage to, you feel really bad

because usually whatever happened to upset him was something you thought you’d addressed with him and/or thought he knew about

like ricky, he gets most jealous over things that happen between you and ricky

because you’re all close in age and gyuvin and ricky spend all of their time together, you’re obviously friends with him too

and, in ricky’s seasonal instagram wrap up post, he notices a selfie of you two in what he thinks was a hangout you had together without him knowing based on the background

it ruins his day so fast :( but you make sure to patch up the misunderstanding

GYUVIN HATES THE WAY HE FEELS as he gears up to speak, twiddling his thumbs while you sit across from him at the table, a frown painting your face. He doesn’t like it when you look sad, and he doesn’t like feeling this way or addressing that he feels it. So, when the time comes where he has to talk about it, it eats him up from the inside out.

“Did you hang out with Ricky? Without me?”

You immediately furrow your eyebrows, as if you’re confused. “Not that I know of? I barely even text Ricky outside of the group chat the three of us have. Where’d you get that idea?”

Embarrassed, Gyuvin decides to pull up the post, turning his phone to face you. You take it from his hands, bringing it closer to your face so that you can get a better look at it. Then, recognition floods your features, and your frown turns into a smile. “That was when we roadtripped to the beach. Not pictured here are you and Taerae, who were getting us coffee.”

Gyuvin snatches the phone back, feeling even more embarrassed. He zooms in on the background parts, ignoring you and Ricky, quickly realizing that the filter Ricky put on the picture made the water look much bluer than it actually had been, leading him to believe you’d gone on your own separate beach trip. Feeling the blood rush to his cheeks, Gyuvin smiled crookedly.

“My bad.”

gunwook

i actually struggled with this

on one hand i don’t think gunwook would get jealous easily

he’s a very reasonable boyfriend and has quite literally never wronged you

on the other hand i do think he would get jealous somewhat frequently

in the same way as taerae, it’s very quiet jealousy, but you will literally never know with him

he won’t ever bring it up after it happens and will just. move on

he also might get a little snarky with whoever approached you afterwards, but never when you’re around, so you are none the wiser

if you find out gunwook got jealous, you are finding out from other people, which you think is absolutely insane

one day you’ll be like cordially chatting with gyuvin and he’ll bring up this one time gunwook got super mega jealous over one of your guy friends and how it haunted him for months and you’re like ??? what

gyuvin is like you DIDN’T know? and then you learn about every single time gunwook has gotten jealous and then told him + yujin + ricky about it

apparently it was so obvious to the boys that hanbin literally asked him about it

you’re flabbergasted 

so then you approach gunwook like “wtf is this?” and he’s like

“oh yeah”

what do you mean OH YEAH?

you’re actually so shocked

gunwook isn’t the type to get jealous of the boys though like that just straight up won’t happen

doesn’t matter who you’re talking to, how much time you spend with them, etc

he knows they’d never pull something with you ever so you could literally go on a remote vacation to the amazon rainforest with NO cell service with like hanbin and he wouldn’t give a shit

TAERAE WAS BUSY, which meant you’d dragged Hanbin along with you to go shopping for Christmas presents for the boys. You’d been dating Gunwook long enough that you felt like it was a good way to show gratitude for them, and Hanbin agreed to take you to the mall to get the gifts.

Of course, you couldn’t take Gunwook, because you were planning on buying a good chunk of his gift, too, which meant you hadn’t told him where you were going. So, when he called, you were somewhat apprehensive to pick up.

Hanbin, on the other hand, looked terrified.

“Can I come over? I’m bored,” he asked, and you held back the urge to laugh as you stared at Hanbin, who looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“I’m Christmas-present shopping with Hanbin, actually. Sorry.”

Hanbin’s jaw dropped, likely at the fact that you just came right out with it, but you weren’t worried in the slightest. “Oh, okay. That’s cool. Have fun. Tell Hanbin I said hello.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too. Bye.”

He hung up, and Hanbin’s jaw dropped farther. “He just…doesn’t care? Like at all?”

You gave him an inquisitive look, as if you didn’t understand what he was implying. “Is he supposed to?"

thank you for reading !

tags: @happysmileybee

[orchidsangel]

Jason Todd crumbled the first time he saw you in his sweatshirt

Sure, tees and sweatpants, he had seen it all. Or so he thought. Because when you walked into the kitchen, all groggy and unable to handle human contact before your first mug of whatever in his navy blue sweatshirt?

He combusted. He just stared at you, admired you, as you made yourself something to wake you up. You for sure had him wrapped around his finger as soon as you were drowning in that thick fabric of his sweatshirt. He didn’t know what it was that made it so different from the rest, if it was you rolling up the sleeves till they bunched near your elbows, or if it was the way you stuck your hand down the neck hole to fish up your necklace (that he had gifted/made you) to show it off, he couldn’t tell.

He could, although, not take his eyes off of you

Sincerely;🦇 <3 (I cannot get Jason out of my head, this man lives in there and does not pay rent, do his laundry or wash his dishes, but it’s okay, because I love him and I cannot live without him.)

men's sweatshirts run pretty large and he's a big guy to begin with, so chances are the sweatshirts drowning you at least a little. and i like to think that this happens when he drops by one morning with breakfast or something, he hadn't been there for a couple of days so it was a sweatshirt he had left behind a little bit ago. and he's kinda surprised that that's what you reached for of all things. all the pajamas in your closet and you chose something of his? he teases you about it, and jokes about you being a thief. but months pass and he never asks for it back, only ever wearing it when his scent starts to wear off so you can find comfort when he's away.

(thank you for this bat-anon, i'm picturing it in my head now!! and theres a solid chance it's going in my sleep scenario queue for tonight <33)