#smiley cardigan

[datshitrandom]

How Darren Criss Spends His Sundays | 📸 by Gabby Jones for The New York Times

[savebylou]

13 days of Niall Horan 2024: Day 9. Niall + cardigans [credit: x x x x x x].

Join to the 13 days of Niall Horan here.

[ether-blooms]

I got this super cute cardigan in London & it paired so well with the thrifted hat I got just before I left. 😜✌🏼

[kai-the-bad-artist]

Drawing TommyInnit everyday for 10-15 days part 1!

[ishipmutualrespect]

-

[joelmillergirl]

Don’t Hate You- Joel Miller

An enemies to lovers story.

Word count: 3,298

Warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, one spank, rougher sex, slight degrading, oral (m receiving) hate sex, but they actually don’t hate each other!

Author’s Note: Love a good enemies to lovers. I did not proofread because I was ashamed!! :D

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

He was your neighbour; an interesting concept after 20 odd years of being alone with no sense of community. The apocalypse had torn through the world, separating friends from foe and dividing humanity into crushed pieces.

And then there was Jackson.

Jackson was small when you first showed up, bloody and beaten, tired of fighting. There were about 20 people at that time, all working hard to fix up the old town they had taken residence in. Maria had taken you in without any thought, allowing you to be someone after years of just living as another being, untrusting and rough, a shell of who you once were.

Five years later, you, along with the town, had blossomed. Buildings were now as new as they could be, with the resources the townspeople could find. Jackson had a bar, a laundrette, a clothes and a grocery store; things that had been hard to adjust to because your brain had been hardwired to live a certain way, were now able to just relax.

Slowly but surely, you were able to build yourself up into the personality you had before everything fell apart. A nicer, happier version of yourself. You knew everyone in town, always being greeted when you stepped out your door, they called you Honey.

“Sweet as honey, you are.” Eugene had said to you, an older man who had fought alongside Tommy in the fireflies.

The latter man scoffed, “Not to me, always teasin’ me, makin’ fun of me.”

You smile at him, “Chin up, Tommy. Someone has to keep that ego of yours in check.”

Every face in that town you could put a name to, until one day you couldn’t. Two new faces, one gruff with a frown, and the other smiley with her mouth constantly moving. You learned of their names; Joel, and Ellie. Before you could get the chance to introduce yourself, they had left.

“Where’s your brother? And the girl?” You hesitantly asked Tommy one day, raising the glass of whisky to your lips.

He shook his head once, downing his drink in one go, “Just needs to get something done. He’ll be back.”

Tommy's short reply had irked you more than it should have. Everyone in town was talking about the mystery man with his mystery kid; who were they? How long would they be away? You wish you knew the answer.

A few months later, you awoke to a distinctive voice; Tommy, yelling orders right outside your bedroom window. You tried to endure it for a while, a pillow placed over your head in an attempt to muffle the echo of his voice, but that proved to be a fail.

Thin cardigan around your body, fluffiest socks you could find, and a frown on your face, you move down the stairs in your house, muttering to yourself angrily. "Tommy!" You call out, gently closing your front door.

Tommy looked up with a guilty expression, "I'm sorry, I know-"

"It is the crack of dawn, you better have a good reason why I'm hearing your voice so early!" You finish, standing by the edge of your fence, arms crossed against your chest.

A third voice. A man stepping out of your neighbouring house. "Sorry, Ma'am, Tommy was just helpin' us settle in."

He was unapologetically handsome. Simply wearing jeans and a short sleeved shirt, with one expression plastered across his face at all times. Joel. You hated how at the sight of him, your arms unfolded from your body, hated how you couldn't really find yourself to be angry anymore.

You shift on your feet, cheeks flushing pink, "You're back."

Tommy raised his eyebrow, eyes moving between the two of you, "Honey, this is Joel, my brother, and your new neighbour."

Joel nodded in your direction, looking at you curiously. You shake your head softly, "Keep it down, Tommy." Your eyes move over to his brother, "Welcome to Jackson."

Then you were moving, back into the comfort of your own house where you slapped yourself in the face, embarrassment bubbling its way inside of you.

Two days later, you felt bad. Your bad impression with Joel replayed in your head endlessly, so bad that you had avoided going outside whenever you could hear voices next door. It was later when you knocked on their door, now in more appropriate clothes and with a clearer mind.

If he was shocked you were standing outside his door, he didn't show it, you spoke straight away. "I just wanted to properly introduce myself, I know you mustn't think too fondly of me." You give him your name along with a small smile.

Joel watched silently as you rambled an apology, only offering a small grunt and a nod of his head before closing the door in your face. You stood there for a moment, taking in what had just occurred. The rejection stung slightly, your inability to make amends with him weighing down on your shoulders. You hated how small that made you feel, hated how much you yearned for him to say something, just so you could hear his voice in that low, Southern drawl.

Tommy couldn't understand why your face soured whenever Joel's name was brought up, or why your fists clenched after watching his brother talk with other people. Why Joel seemed to talk to everyone except for you. Tommy sat in front of you in the booth at the bar, waiting for an opportunity to finally figure out what he had been suspecting. His eyes locked onto someone behind you and before you could ask, he was already calling out. “Joel! C'mere."

Your eyes widened slightly as you sat up straighter, kicking Tommy's leg under the table. You heard his boots stop next to you, his presence looming over the table you were leaning on. Tommy nodded his head slightly at you, "How're you guys gettin' along as neighbours? Haven't gotten any complaints yet, so must be goin' well."

Joel stayed quiet for a moment, eyes glancing over to you for a split second, "'S fine. Nice house you put me in."

Tommy scoffed, shaking his head with a smile, "Wasn't asking about the house, brother. You guys good?"

Joel looked down at you, eyes flickering down your face and to your hands that rest on the wooden table. “We’re good. She’s uh…” He paused, seemingly uncomfortable with what he was about to say. “She’s a good neighbour.” He confirmed, suddenly looking everywhere but you and his brother.

Tommy smiled triumphantly, looking at you again. “Honey? He a good neighbour?”

You look at him unimpressed, feeling uncomfortable to be put in such a position, and furthermore the sight of Joel tapping his fingers against the table impatiently from the corner of your eye, made you feel angry. Unnecessarily so.

“Actually, Tommy, no. He’s not a good neighbour. He’s a dick. Always… slamming his gate when he gets back from night patrols.” You breathe out deeply, feeling the brothers’ gazes on you as you looked away. “I needa head back, I’ll see you Tommy.”

You hastily make your way out, “Oh god, why did I say that?” You whisper to yourself, embarrassment coursing through your body.

Three days after that incident , you had managed to avoid Joel like he was the plague; more than how you used to ignore him. His little girl, Ellie had approached you a few times, mocking your silence and asking why you didn't get along with the oldest Miller. You couldn't say that it was because how unnecessarily hot his accent was, or how he liked to wear tighter shirts that made your skin crawl with need, so you shrugged.

On the fourth day of ignoring Joel Miller, you had lost your streak.

It was later in the evening, everyone was either crowded in the dining hall, or in the comfort of their own homes, everyone but you. The winter coat you had on was not doing you justice, the freezing wind managing to slip through the small cracks, touching your skin. Although, you could barely call it a coat, material so worn and thin you would've been better in a long-sleeve shirt. You had been walking for a few minutes, nose pink, when you heard your name being called behind you.

"What the hell are you doin, wearing this in the middle of winter?" None other than Joel Miller scolded, grabbing you by the arm when he was close enough to. "You suicidal, woman?"

"Charming." You responded, trying so hard to ignore the warmth he provided by holding your arm. "Just walking, don't see the problem."

Joel scoffed, looking genuinely annoyed, "Don't see the pro-..." He trailed off for a moment, "You're going to freeze. And given our unpleasant history, I'll probably be blamed for your death."

Not waiting for a response, he started to pull you behind him, making a beeline for his house. You stuttered out, trying to object, "Joel, I'm perfectly capable of walking back to my house."

"Don't want you going back to your house. Need to talk with you." He shortly responded, ignoring your tugging. Once he had opened his door and you could feel the heat emitting from his house, you had settled slightly, but still shot Joel a glance as you entered.

"Go sit by the fire." He ordered, walking off into his kitchen, "Fuckin' hell." He mumbled.

You scowl at his back, debating with yourself for a second before deciding to follow his orders, sitting yourself down on the floor in front of the hot embers. You moan out in relief, shuffling a bit closer before turning your head to the side, watching Joel frown as he poured something in two mugs.

"Coffee." He grunted, walking over and placing the mug in your hands before sitting down on the chair next to you, sported with his own cup. "Drink it."

The mug helped you warm up faster, the heat reaching your fingertips and moving up your hands. "Prefer tea." You shortly respond, taking the drink up to your lips.

A moment of silence commenced before either of you talked again. Joel sighed deeply, and you saw from the corner of your eye his hand resting over his face, "Why're you so difficult?"

His words sunk into your brain. You scoffed, "I'm difficult?"

"Yes. You are."

You place the mug down beside you, looking into the flames for a moment. "I tried making amends with you, Joel. Tried being nice."

His silence fuelled your frustration. "Talking and smiling to everyone but me... Because I, what? I scolded your brother for being loud?" You continue, shaking your head.

Joel didn't talk, he didn't move. Only when he was sure you were finished talking did he speak. "You did try bein' nice... And uh... God, I hate this." He paused, taking a deep breath, "Didn't think it was a good idea for us to be nice. To talk."

"What?" You asked, turning to look at him, "You didn't think it was a good idea? That makes no sense, Joel. If you just don't like me, say that, don't try making up all these excuses!"

His eyebrows furrowed, he too had abandoned his mug onto the side table next to him. "Not makin' any excuses."

You laugh shortly, "Okay, Joel. I'll leave you then, get outta your hair... Seeming as this,' You gesture to the both of you, "Is not a good idea."

As you stood, Joel quickly followed, grabbing onto your shoulder to stop you from running. "I knew it would be a bad idea because the second I laid my eyes on you, you had me wrapped around your finger. Fuckin'," He took a breath, looking away from you for a moment, "Can't get you out of my head, you're everywhere."

"I don't..." You frown, looking up at him, your uneven breathing matching his, "I don't understand."

"I can't stay away from you, I can't do it anymore." He confessed, letting go of your shoulder, instead running his hands through his hair. "You don't even know what you do to me."

You watch him for a moment, trying to rationalise your feelings, "So, you... You act like a dick, and ignore me, shut doors in my face, and now I'm finding out it's because you can't stay away from me? That's so stupid!"

His neck was flushed, the pink hue travelling down to his chest, you forced yourself to keep your eyes on his face. He looked borderline desperate now as he stepped closer, "Tell me to stop, I will. If... If you let me have you, I don't think I'll be able to stop."

"How did we go from hating each other to this?" You ask, eyes flickering over his face.

Joel shook his head gently, his hands moving up to touch your neck, fingers ghosting your skin. "Didn't really hate each other. Did we?"

"Hated you. You're arrogant." You whisper, taking off your thin jacket, a shirt on underneath.

"Keep goin'." He nodded, frowning at your choice in clothing.

His fingers moved on his own accord, moving down to the bottom of your shirt, tugging on it. "You slammed your door shut in my face." You continue, pulling the shirt off your body and throwing it on the floor.

"Like an ass." He agreed, his eyes taking in your upper half, hungrily staring at the bra you were wearing.

As if in a trance, you pulled your pants off yourself, "Just wanted to apologise to you for my bad impression." You tell him, now standing in your underwear in front oh his clothed self.

Joel nodded, his breath intaking as he looked at you, "Didn't care what you were sayin' that morning, baby. Comin'. out in that singlet of yours, tiny shorts. You thought that cardigan was gonna help ya? Was hopin' you'd yell at Tommy all day."

Your pussy clenched at his words, a gush of heat travelling upwards. "I was rude to you in the bar the other day... In front of Tommy." You confess, kneeling down in front of him, your face now in line with his growing bulge still restrained in his jeans.

"Yeah, baby." Joel agreed, "Had to listen to him lecture me for an hour." He reached down and moved your hair out of your face, looking deeply into your eyes.

His zipper was down before he could blink, quickly helping you pull down his pants, his boxers following soon after. His cock was big, bigger than you had expected it to be. Its red head was dripping with pre come, falling down the sides of him. Your hand experimentally wrapped around him, seeing how much you'd be able to take, only to find that your hand was not able to close properly.

"It's big, I know." Joel hummed, his cock twitching in your hands, "You can take it."

Your hands began moving after he spoke to you, making sure to squeeze down on him. His head fell back in pleasure, a groan releasing from his throat. After a few minutes of slowly jerking him off, you brought your head closer to his tip, carefully wrapping your lips around him. At the added pleasure, Joel looked down, letting out a whimper.

"Fuck, feel so good." He told you, scrunching his eyebrows together, "Look so good." He added, his hand coming down to hold your cheek.

With new profound confidence, you moved your head faster, making sure to match the speed with your hand. His moans grew louder, his hand moving from your cheek to the back of your head, fisting some of your hair. "Alright, alright." Joel quickly said, pulling your head off his cock, now topped with the glisten of your saliva.

"Need it." You whisper, using his hand to help yourself up, tugging down your underwear before helping Joel out of his shirt. You look up at him expectedly, legs clenching together.

Joel looked down at the sight, mockingly sighing, "You wet, baby? Need me to take care of ya, huh?" He gently grabbed your hand pulling you behind him as he approached his couch. You watched as he sat down, spreading his legs widely, a sight that was truly sinful.

He gestured to his lap, and you took the hint. Climbing onto him, you didn't break eye contact, your chest pressed against his as you looked into his eyes. "Here." He whispered, reaching behind your back and unclasping your bra, peeling it away from your body. "God, you're..." He sighed, leaning back against the couch as he stared at your breasts, "You're gorgeous."

"Still hate you." You mumble, leaning up with your hands on his shoulders. He gripped his cock from under you, dragging the tip across your clit and down your pussy.

"Yeah?" He asked, looking up at your face as he placed himself up near your entrance, your legs already shaking with need. Your arousal dripped down the side of his dick, fluids mixing together. "Doesn't feel like you hate me."

You shook your head, moving downwards gently, just far enough that the tip of him slipped inside you. You both groan. "I do hate you." You try and convince him, taking him further inside you with every second that passed. When your ass met his thighs, you moaned out loudly, tilting your head backwards. "Feel so deep."

Joel smiled lazily, pressing his hand against your abdomen, "Right up here. Go on, show me how much ya hate me. Fuck it all outta ya." He slurred, his accent becoming more pronounced the further he lost himself inside you. You started with small grinds, getting your body used to the intrusion first, shaky breaths and pants falling from your mouth as your clit rubbed against his pubic hair.

He helped you bounce after, his large hands on your ass, pulling you up and down on his dick, roughly meeting those movements with his own thrusts below. Once he was confident you had found your rhythm, he leant back, watching. "Still hate me?" He shakily asked, his hands moving from your breasts down to your clit, rubbing slow circles there.

"No." You cry out, moving your body forwards so you were laying on him, your face resting in the crook of his neck. "Please." You beg, although you weren't sure of what.

Joel wraps his arms around you, holding you tight as his hips drive faster up into you. The sounds of your skin colliding echoing through his house, aiding in the pleasure you were feeling. Joel grunted in your ear, one of his hands coming down onto your ass, slapping it. "Gonna cum, baby. Come on, need to feel it."

You lean up slightly, chest heaving against his. "So close." You whisper, leaning your forehead against his. The sensation of his hands roaming your body, the feeling of his cock pistoning up into you, and your own need for him fuelled your orgasm. Just as you started clenching around him, Joel moved his head up, catching your lips in a kiss before his own orgasm escaped him. You came together, legs shaking and breaths coming out hot as you kissed.

Somehow, the kiss felt more intense than the mind-blowing sex you had just had, the intimacy of it had your heart clenching. "Don't hate you." You sighed, pulling away from his lips. "Hated how you made me feel. Wanted you so bad."

He nodded. "I know, baby. Me too."

As they dressed themselves and sat with each other by the fire, discovering new emotions and sensations with one another the rest of Jackson had continued moving around them, acting like another day; though your life would now be irrevocably changed.

[chubypotato]

When they kiss you

This one was a request by @Isimsiz

I'm so exited to have my first request please go on ! It actually motivate me a lot!

Including Umemiya, Sakura, Suo, Kiryu

Umemiya

I feel like Umemiya would be very affectionate.

Like he's not the type to be shy around people if he want to hug you he will no question.

One day you were on the roof with Umemiya you were on your phone while he was doing some garden.

When you saw a shadow on you, you lift your head just to see your boyfriend happily smiling at you showing you his new plants.

You smiled at him before you started to look at your phone again.

Umemiya took your phone away from you.

When you lift your head with an angry face you couldn't even say a word before you felt soft lips against yours.

"Do I have your attention now cutie ? "

No need to say that now you weren't on your phone anymore for the all afternoon.

Sakura

Oh that boy is so shy. Don't get him wrong he loves you more than anything. He's just shy.

Not being used to all this attention he doesn't know how to react. He would love more than anything to see you in his arm (wear one his white shirt and boy will malfunction)

Whenever you get close to him boy will blush so hard more than you think it would be possible.

No need to say he's not into PDA boy already got enough trouble to show you in private affection without being shy. In public can you imagine?

But he would never refuse any contact that you initiate even if you guys are outside.

You guys were outside with the gang just walking and spend time together. When you put your hand in Sakura's hand he didn't say anything just slightly blushed a bit.

You guys were starving so you went grab something to eat. When you guys were only the two of you (other went ordering) you looked at Sakura and be like I want a kiss.

He would like at you blushing like crazy and after a few second he would put a quick kiss on your lips.

Unfortunately for him the boys saw you and started to tease Sakura while he was blushing and trying to hit them. You otherwise you were very happy and smiley.

Suo

Suo wouldn't be the guy to be bothered by PDA I think he would be the type to hug every chance he gets. Walking in the room? Hug. Talking about something you like? Hug. He just love to be close to you.

I think he would be very careful to you if you don't like PDA he won't do it he just stick to what is the more comfortable for you.

Even though he likes to hug you and have your hand in his I feel like private touch like kisses would be more things to keep private.

Don't get me wrong he loves to kiss you he just think is better when you guys are alone.

You guys were together at your home doing your own stuff like reading or trying new tea.

When he gives you a cup of tea you thanked him before going back to your book. Suo would sit in front of you before starting to look at you with a soft smile on his face.

He couldn't help but thought you were cute. And cute thing of his are meant to be kiss.

That's why he pulled away your book before pressing his lips against yours.

Its naturally that's your hand found their way to his hair while his hand was on your face.

When he pulled away you just wanted him to stay close to you so you asked him to cuddle with you.

"If that's want you want princess"

You guys went on the couch you between his legs your back on his chest while his arm were around your waist and you started to read a book together before falling asleep.

Kiryu

Kiryu would be the type to also don't be bothered by PDA in fact he would love showing other he's yours and you're his.

Dude would love to hug you by behind while his chin is on your shoulder.

Also I think he would be the type to put his cardigan around you while he hugged you by behind. No thought it's just cute.

You were on Kiryu's bed while he was getting new controller cause the other died.

When he get back to his room he just put the controller away before jumping on you and start to kiss your fave everywhere while you was just laughing and trying to get him off.

You guys were just playing fighting together while the room was filled with your laugh. It was such a nice moment.

After a few minutes Kiryu make you fall before taking your wrist between his hand and start tickling you.

You were laughing begging him to stop when you felt his lips connected to yours.

It was a chaotic moment but finished by a soft kiss. After that you guys managed to cuddle your back on his chest playing and kiss from time to time.

.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*.・゜゜・

My first request omg thanks a lot it means a lot to me!!

If you guys want me to do any scenario with any manga just tell me!

[alphabetboyluvr]

once the thrill expires | jjk

title credit: cardigan - taylor swift

pairing: college!jungkook x female reader

synopsis:

your housemate-turned-fwb takes another girl home after a night out

warnings: angsty, smutty turmoil. it's not that bad, but it definitely isn't a happy lil number. fingering, oral sex (f receiving), rimming (f receiving), vaginal sex, doggy, protected (!!) sex, lil spanks, jaykay sorta makes out with her ear???, jaykay is a fawk boy who needs to learn self-control, oc is holding out for something that'll never happen, multiple partners in one night (jk), jk calls the reader diz (dizzy)

wordcount: 5.8K

note from holly: virgo boy trauma for you in the form of a jk one shot lmao. it's rare you get virgo boy shit laid this bare but he he i love oversharing on the internet! there's an old paragraph from yet another virgo boy fic hidden in here, too so if you think it looks familiar, that'll be why!!

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

The knock on your en-suite bathroom door comes as a surprise. 

The subsequent twist of the lock mechanism from a coin wedged in the bolt on the other side does not. 

There’s only one person it would be.

And so you don’t yell. Don’t tell him to go away, even if you do hug your legs into your chest a little tighter. 

Sitting on the floor of your shower, dignity is preserved - but with skin as red as the flags that Jungkook freely hands you, and mascara staining your cheeks from the onslaught of piping hot water showering down on you, how dignified can you really be?

No words are spoken as the steam billows from the room, Jungkook not caring to shut the door behind himself. He takes a perch on the closed lid of the toilet, elbows to his knees, tattooed hands clasped beneath his chin. Refuses to look anywhere other than you.

There’s perplexion to his taut jaw - a frown embedded in his brows - but more than anything, there’s an overwhelming sense of confusion in his soft eyes. You’re unaware of the way he’s mirroring your expression back at you; how defeated you look, wet hair sticking to the side of your face, an emptiness in your gaze that is pale in comparison to the void in your chest.

With nothing but the pitter-patter of your shower to fill the space, you’re thankful that he can’t hear the way your heart is beating, or how you’re sniffing back the tears you were freely crying before he arrived.

“Jem messaged me,” he eventually says, quiet beneath the sound of the water. Leaning back, he wipes a palm over his face, then pushes it back into his dishevelled hair. Lets his hand fall between his legs, then shrugs as he looks at you as if to say, 'Don’t look at me like that' or 'It’s not my fault.'

And realistically, you know that it isn’t. Whatever he’s done is within the parameters of what was agreed upon. The way you feel - like Jungkook has stolen the moon and stopped the tides from turning - is not.

It’s not like either of you had ever expected to let things get this far, and definitely not for this long.

What had started as quiet kisses in the corners of clubs when your friends weren’t looking, had catapulted into drunken hook-ups after those aforementioned nights out. 

He’d call you Dizzy, ‘cause he was convinced you looked at him like you’d been spinning in circles, all awe-struck and smiley. Pretty. Like a giggle was on the tip of your tongue at all times.

Was easy, back then. Convenient. He was newly single. Not looking for anything. 

You’d been quietly harbouring an illicit crush on him from the day you moved into your shared university accommodation. Had been waiting for the stars to align - and once they had, you were certain that soulmates had to exist.

It’s the only way you can explain the small earthquake that happened half the world away at the very time you first met, the tectonic plates shifting to make sure you were perfectly presented to one another. 

You didn’t feel the tremors - would have been impossible - but your heart certainly felt something. Adrenaline? Limerence? You’re not sure.

Whatever it was only became more and more prevalent with every tipsy hold of his hand on the way to clubs, or moments stolen in secrecy in the house you now share with six of your friends. 

Now in your final year of university, if you spent as much time studying, as you do fretting over Jungkook - what he’s up to, who he’s with - maybe you’d get a first-class degree.

You’re on track for a 2:1.

He’s on track for a first, though. 

You choose to believe it’s because he’s naturally more academically inclined (as if you didn’t write an entire paper for him last semester), and not because he spends significantly less time thinking about you.

There’s no need for endless thoughts, though. 

The arrangement is simple: You’re friends. 

Best friends. Spend all your time together. Are plus ones to events. Fill the void that a partner should fill; at the winter balls, cinema screenings you don't want to see alone, and in the hushed privacy of midnight intimacy. He gets you off when you need it, and you him. 

Kisses are never shared between lips - apart from that one summer when he accidentally said he was in love with you, then took it back a week later under the guise of not wanting to ‘ruin’ the friendship. 

You don’t speak about that summer.

Hook-ups are in your room, always, ‘cause you’ve only got Jem in the room next door. Jungkook’s room is up on the middle floor, surrounded by all the boys. They’d realise what’s going on far too quickly.

It’s simple - yet excruciatingly complicated when there’s a lack of commitment, and Jungkook looks at you in the way that he does. 

His lips are a little deeper than their usual pink this evening, but you put it down to alcohol. 

Denial is a wonderful thing, and delusion even greater.

Still, he leans forward to push the shower door open. Leans further still, then knocks the tap off. Lets the water trickle down the drain, the hum of the pipes murmuring like your unspoken grievances. 

Rivulets of water chase down your skin. Jungkook watches one race from your knee to your ankle, running straight over the bruises from messy nights out and the small cut at the bottom of your calf from the fountain you’d both traipsed through when you were a little too merry a few nights prior. 

He’d given you a piggyback the entire way home, blood staining the white of his shirt; the very essence of you embedded now in the fabric of him. 

He’d patched you up after you got home. Showered with you, right here, then carried you the measly five or six steps to your bed. Had told you that you’d definitely get sepsis and die. Kissed it better, then decided he didn’t know any better, and trailed his lips up your leg. Took pity on your impending death and gave you a little, lovely death just to soften the blow. 

Funny, how you think sepsis would be preferable over whatever the fuck it is that you’re feeling now.

“Jem messaged me,” he repeats. Presses his lips together, the ring in the corner of his mouth glistening under the white lights of the bathroom.  “Said I should check on you. Been in the shower for an hour, apparently.”

Well, you think to yourself, bitterness wrapping around your words like poison ivy. You’ve checked. You can go now.

The words don’t manifest in your throat. Nothing does. Not even the echo of a sob you’ve been holding in since he first stepped foot within your sanctuary.

Instead you’re silent as you get to your feet, not caring for your nakedness. It’s nothing Jungkook hasn’t seen before. Probably knows your body better than his own at this point. Can look at the faded bruise on your chest and know that it was left there by his lips last week. Can pick out which ones of your dainty linework tattoos were there before he met you, and which ones have been acquired since.

It’s a quiet intimacy, the way Jungkook looks at you. There’s no towel in the bathroom - an oversight by your tipsy brain when deciding you needed to wash yourself clean of the man in front of you after arriving home from the club - and Jungkook doesn’t care to offer you one. 

Insanity is the product of looking at your body, he thinks. Can’t remember a time he’s ever seen you like this and hasn’t wanted to be inside you. He’s a simple man in pursuit of simple pleasures, and the way you fit him like a glove is the simplest pleasure of them all. 

“Hm?” He questions your lack of a response. 

His deep black eyes are just like the depths of the ocean floor, and it feels like he’s dragging you right down every single time he looks at you like this. Softly. Tenderly. Sweetly. As if he actually gives a shit.

There’s no room for two in this bathroom. It’s not a space designed to be shared, no matter how many times you’ve both squeezed into the shower under far different circumstances - though now you come to think of it, perhaps they weren’t so dissimilar. 

It was always Jungkook’s pursuit of pleasure that put you in that position, just like it put you there tonight.

“Hey,” he says quietly, as you turn to leave, his grip on your waist pulling you between his legs. You don’t look at him. Just keep your head turned to face out of the room - but you make no attempt to leave. Especially when his nose brushes up against the bottom of your ribs right between your breasts, and he husks, “Why are you being like this?”

The softness of his lips as he presses them against your sternum, long lashes splayed across the top of his cheeks, has you spiralling. Kind of feels like he’s twisting a corkscrew through your heart. You know he’ll rip it right out - but maybe you’ll let him, if it means he’ll kiss the wound better.

“Hmm?” He hums. One of your hands rests on his shoulder, the other in his hair, and that’s how Jungkook knows he’s rectified the damage done for a short while. It’s like putting washi tape over holes punched in the walls - useless, and bound to fall off eventually, but ever so pretty in the meantime. Another washi-tape kiss is pressed to your skin, a little higher this time. “We had a good night, didn’t we?”

The tenderness of his voice rewrites the events of the evening. A good night. 

Not one with tears, and jealousy, and arguments that people who claim to be just friends have no business having. A night shared together, perhaps, with no one else to intrude.

Didn’t we?

You so prefer this false chain of events - the one where he left the bar with you, and held your hand in the cab ride back just like he’d done in the cab ride there.

“Is she still here?”

He’s surprised that you’re mentioning it. Half-expected you to act like it never happened. Like she never happened. Is what you usually do, whenever he goes home with someone that isn’t you. 

Still, he just continues to gently stroke your sides. Doesn’t present you with any sort of weakness.

“No.”

“Did you fuck her?”

There’s a little venom to your tone; the poison ivy around your thoughts sprouting now from your throat. 

Her. Some inconsequential girl that neither of you will likely ever see again. Looked nothing like you, but a hell of a lot like his ex. 

“No, Diz,” he softens the sternness of his tone with a name only he calls you. “I didn’t fuck her.”

You’ve no idea if this is a lie or not. 

It’ll be accepted as truth for an hour. Maybe two. Just enough time for you to convince yourself that you’re the one he wants. That he couldn’t bear to fuck anyone else. That he sent her on her way after a kiss or awkward fumble, because he realised no one else could feel as good as you.

You’ll ignore the fact you know he’s here because Jem messaged him. 

You’ll ignore the fact he thinks you’ve been in the shower for over an hour, and has no actual knowledge of the events of it all. 

You’ll ignore the scratch mark on his back, and in the morning you’ll believe it was you who left there even though your nails are bitten right down.

The lies you’ll tell yourself will be far more grand than the ones Jungkook ever tells you. Nobody can ever hurt you quite like you hurt yourself.

And so, against your better judgement, you let him follow you to your bed. 

There's a clang as he tosses his rings down into the ceramic dish beside your bed. It's white, and speckled in tiny black dots, and matches the one Jungkook has in his own bedroom. Not really a surprise. He was the one who bought it for you. Before then, he used to just tuck his rings beneath your pillows - but he kept losing them, and he found it annoying having to rummage around for them whenever he was trying to make a silent exit so as to not wake you.

You tell yourself that small things like this are Jungkook's way of integrating himself into your life; creating permanence. In reality, it's just something that makes it easier for him to leave.

Leaving is the last thing on your mind right now, though, and it will be until he comes.

It used to be different. He used to stay. You convince yourself each and every time that he’ll do what he used to do before things got so confusing. That he’ll stay, and that things will be okay.

You let him kiss your skin, but he’ll never kiss your lips. Let him lay claim to your body, even though you know he’ll never lay claim to your soul. 

It’s nice to pretend.

Nice, when he lays you down and rids himself of his shirt. Nice, when he presses your legs apart, and looks at you like you’re the first woman he’s ever laid eyes upon. Nice, when he says shit like, “Such a nice cunt,” and “Let me make you feel good.”

So nice, when he strokes up and down your inner thigh, eyes trained on your pussy. 

So, so nice when he slowly drips a little spit between his pursed lips and watches as it trails down your folds. 

So fucking nice, when he spreads you with his index and middle finger, groaning at the sight of you.

See, Jungkook can be nice. Can be honest. Can tell you how much he wants you, and you can believe him without having to do mental gymnastics over it all.

As he sinks his middle finger into you - “Shit. So wet for me, aren’t you?” - Jungkook is on his best behaviour. He’ll make you feel so good that you’ll forget he ever made you feel bad, cause he needs this. Needs you. 

Not in the life-debilitating, earth-shattering, universe-bending way that you need him, but in a way that isn’t too dissimilar. 

You’re his best friend. He loves you in his own, curious way. Would lay his life on the line for you. Just can’t seem to keep his dick in his pants for no other reason than selfish gluttony. 

It’s his fatal flaw, but he just thinks everyone has them. That most people are like this.

Of the seven deadly sins, Jungkook wields them all. Too proud to admit his wrongdoings. Greedy in his need to have everything life can offer, and how he refuses to limit himself to just you. His lust and gluttony go hand in hand - yet whenever any one else with similar predispositions look in your direction, he turns green with envy. Green, until he’s red, wrath taking hold. 

But he’s lazy, too. Far too settled in how easy it is to have his way with you. Why would he try harder when you never make him?

That’s your cardinal sin: desperation. 

It reeks. Spiced vanilla and black cherry. Tarnishes your skin, until Jungkook licks it from you.

And so as his lips press down your legs, wet and wanting, you don’t object. In fact, you don’t really do anything. You just allow it to happen.

Because you are desperate - for him, his approval, his desire. His heart.

You’ll never get it, mind you, for his heart is hollow. 

Saw every example of what he considered to be true love crackle and crumble until it fell apart. Parents divorced. High-school sweetheart cheated. Love, as you know it, doesn’t exist in Jungkook’s understanding of life. 

You never stood a chance. Not really.

The only times his heart is full is when he steals enough adoration from yours, and cosplays it as his own. Shines it back at you, and tricks you into thinking that maybe he did mean it when he mumbled false declarations into your lips.

But that was three summers ago, now, and Jungkook is a creature of habit. Too stuck in his ways to ever change. Comfortable in this chaos with you.

‘Cause while the other girls are fleeting, and fun, and always very nice, they’re never comfortable. Not like you are. 

“I liked your dress tonight,” he whispers, as he pushes a second finger into you. Pumps them gently, palm skywards, coaxing soft little moans from your lips. Curls them just right, just like he always does.

The affection of such a compliment rids you of the haunting way he’d looked at you earlier that evening. 

Up, down. No smile. Turned away to change the song coming through the aux at pre-drinks. Didn’t look at you again until he was passing out shots for everyone to take. Just nodded towards your necklace - the one his hobbyist silversmith mother made you for Christmas - and asked, “You like it?”

The pendant is small. Embossed with the letters DJ - the name his mother collectively calls you whenever you spend the summer together at his place. The hammered edge of the pendant matches the ring that wraps around your thumb. Another one of her creations, gifted to you by him for your birthday.

“Of course I do,” you’d said. Seemed silly for him to ask. You wear it most days. 

“Good,” he’d nodded, then took his shot and pretended as if he wasn't all too aware that your dress would be attracting good-for-nothing men all night.

See, Jungkook knows you like the necklace. Had just been reminding you of it, and the fact it’s his initial on there with the initial only he calls you. Well, him and his mother. Goes with the territory. 

She’s seen you through your formative years. Only ever sees the good parts, because Jungkook orchestrates it that way.

She doesn’t see the moments like these, when he’s crushed your self esteem and tries to fix it in the most idiotic of ways. 

The necklace pools around the base of your throat as your head tips back into the pillows, his thumb coming to toy with your clit, gently pressing down.

“Shush, Diz,” he smiles, so pleased to see your body responding in the way that it always does. “You’ll get us in trouble.”

God forbid the people you live with - who’ve all heard the arguments after his illicit encounters with randomers, and seen his face of thunder whenever you’re getting ready for first dates - ever figure out you’re fucking. Not like it’s obvious in the slightest. Not why Jem texted Jungkook, instead of checking on you herself.

Biting onto your wrist, you try and stifle the impact of his touch - ‘cause if they do hear, it will be your fault. You’ll be the reason everyone knows your dirty little secrets. You’ll be the one who ruins it all. Not him. Just you. 

He doesn’t mean to condition you in such a way. Doesn’t even really realise he’s doing it.

Nor do you - but your self esteem is shot to shit. You’re good enough to fuck, but not good enough to love, even if Jungkook insists that there’s no one he adores more. It always comes with an add-on of ‘you’re my best friend’, or ‘you wouldn’t wanna date me anyways’.

Maybe he’s right.

But maybe it would have been nice to try.

Shame.

The pace of Jungkook’s fingers pumping into you begins to slow. Leaking around the base of his knuckles, you’re just as wet as you always are with him. Even when the emotional labour of letting him have his way with you feels like a ten tonne weight on your chest, crushing down on your ribs and spoiling you forevermore, your body still wants him. Only him. Always him.

Withdrawing his fingers, Jungkook taps the outer side of your thigh. “On your front for me, Diz. Face down, ass up.”

With anyone else, Jungkook is far more often on the receiving end. It’s a shame, ‘cause his talents go to waste, it’s just what he’s found to be typical of random hook-ups.

He loves pussy. Loves eating it. Loves that you love it, too.

Slow as he spreads your ass with his hands, Jungkook really doesn’t fuck around with wasting time. He dives in without hesitation, burying his tongue between your folds. Cares not for accuracy, nor carefulness. Just wants his tongue all over you.

Your body lurches forward, hands clutching onto the duvet beneath you. He’s always been like this. Hungry. Just as desperate as you so often feel, but better at hiding it than you are.

His tongue laps against you. Sinks into your soaked hole as deep as he can get it. Uses one of his hands to reach around and toy with your clit while he continues to explore somewhere he knows like the back of his hand.

Pulling back a little, Jungkook’s breathing is heavy. You can hear it. Groan, as he grips your ass again. Spanks it softly, then get back to his previous position. Licks a stripe from your clit up to your leaking cunt, then continues. Flicks up against the tight muscle you rarely let him fuck around with.

But you want him to want you. Want him to have you in whichever capacity he so desires. 

You reach back. Tangle a hand in his hair, and encourage him to massage your tight hole with his tongue, like you know he loves to do. 

It’s kinda cute, in a way. He likes doing it, ‘cause he loves the way it feels whenever your tongue toys with his ass. Assumes other people must love it too. Just wants you to feel good. Wants to right his earlier wrongs.

He continues to trace up and down both your holes, stimulating your entire body in the process. Rubs your clit with his fingers, till you're writhing against the sheets, body pressed flat to the cotton as Jungkook begins to fuck his fingers into your again. 

“You gonna cum for me?” He husks, a smile on his wet lips as he watches the tell-tale sign of an orgasm rush over you. Soon, you’ll be looking at him with dizzy eyes once more, and your namesake will make Jungkook feel things he pretends he can’t feel. “That’s it, Diz. All over my fingers. Good girl. Good fuckin’ girl.”

There’s a relief that comes with your orgasm for Jungkook. Hope that you’ll stop being mardy with him. He doesn’t like it when you don’t like him. These days, he keeps making choices that make it hard for you to like him. 

But you always like him - like him so much - in the comedown of a climax.

He doesn’t give you much time to recover. Wants to coax a second orgasm from you while he still can. Pulls you back into position - face down, ass up - and pushes down his sweats. Cock hard, there’s a small damp patch in his boxers from the precum he’s leaked for you. Lines himself up. 

“Let me fuck you,” he begs before he pushes into you.

“Uh-uh,” you full forward a little, preventing him from doing what he so desperately wants to do. Turning to look over your shoulder, you shake your head. “Condom.”

He furrows his brows. Has the audacity to look fucking offended, as if he didn’t bring another girl back to the house you share.

You’re stupid, and you’re desperate, and you make all the wrong choices, but you aren’t naive. Not really. Your delusions and denial are always elevated away from reality, of which you like to think you have a firm grip on.

And so you simply say, “Don’t believe you didn’t fuck her.”

He doesn’t deny it. Shakes his head, not that you can see it. Just reaches to the shelf above your bed, and gets one from the pot you keep them tucked away in. Rarely ever use them. It’s a novelty, more than not, when you use them. Something to make him last a little longer.

It’s different today.

Today, it’s because you don’t know if his cock is fucking clean or not.

It should crush you, but it doesn’t. 

Just a fact of life. Jungkook fucked someone else less than three hours ago. Came, probably. For someone else. Over someone else. Inside someone else. 

But that desperation of yours is back once more. You want to be the reason why Jungkook loses his mind in temporary bliss. To be better. To be his last memory of the evening.

And so as Jungkook rolls the condom down his thick shaft, you position yourself perfectly for him. Whimper as the tip of his cock kisses your entrance. Whine, as he pushes inside you. 

“That’s it,” he husks, gripping your ass cheeks to spread them nice and wide. Looking down to where your bodies meet, Jungkook is reminded of why he enjoys you so much. No one takes him so well. No one. He knows this. Doesn’t know why the fuck he ever feels the need to seek out anyone else. They’re never as good as this. “Fuck. That’s it, baby.”

Your hips roll back, ass bouncing in that hypnotic way he always swears will ruin him. His grip loosens to let you do the hard work, one of his hands stroking up your spine until it’s resting around the base of your throat. 

Taking back a little control, he keeps your head pushed into the pillows. Grunts. “Take this cock so fuckin’ well, don’t you?”

The mumble you moan into the sheets isn’t enough for him. He always does this. Asserts control and then realises he actually kinda fuckin’ hates it. Fingers still wrapped around the base of your neck, Jungkook pulls you up.

Chest pressed to your back, Jungkook wastes no time locking you in place with an arm around the front of your waist. His cock continues to pump upwards into you, the movements a little subdued but by no means lacking. 

The ridge of his thick head rubs up against your sweet spot. Gets you so fucking needy. Has your hand dipping to your clit to match the pressure.

And when you do? Oh, it’s heaven. You can’t help but whine - so Jungkook uses the hand that isn't on your waist to cover your mouth.

“You only get to cum if you’re quiet,” he tells you. “Be quiet for me, baby.”

But his hips are erratic. The sounds are lewd; skin on skin. It’s wet. Disgusting. Needy. Him, just as much as you. Sweat blossoms on his skin, keeping you both in this clammy haze of hedonism. 

Catching his lips on your ear, Jungkook doesn’t care if he isn’t supposed to let kisses linger so close to your lips. Tongue wet, he intrudes. Licks the shell of your ear. Grazes his teeth on your lobe. Whispers, “You looked so pretty tonight,” then drags his tongue across your ear. 

Cares not for precision nor accuracy, just the fact that this is an area of the body he doesn’t often explore, and that maybe he should do it more often, given how tightly your pussy is clamping around him.

There’s something about it - the obstruction of one of your senses likely to blame, sound distorted whenever his tongue licks against it - that makes you whine. 

You can’t even really do that now. Are too muffled beneath his hand - until he pushes the two fingers that had been inside your pussy earlier into your mouth. 

The taste is just the same as it always is whenever he does shit like this. Loves having you taste yourself. Experiencing what he experiences. Wants you to know exactly why he’s incapable of letting you go.

“Slutty little mouth,” he smirks against your ear. “Gonna finish in it.”

“Mhhm?” you mumble against the fingers you’re keeping wet and warm for him.

“Mhmm,” he replies. Presses a kiss to your temple, ‘cause he isn’t really thinking straight. Groans when your cunt clenches from the touch. “God, you want it, don’t you? Want it so bad. Wanna swallow my cum.”

Of course you do. You’ll take what he’ll give you. 

Your mumble around his fingers isn’t enough. He wants to hear you say it. Frees your mouth of himself. Grips your chin between his forefinger and thumb. Turns you to face further over your shoulder.

He’s just gonna make you say it. Just make you say something lewd to get him a little closer. Just… Just gonna… Just...- Oh, fuck it. Your lips are just there, and they’re wet, and they’re pouty and - God, forgive me - perfect for him.  

His eyes flitter between your eyes and your lips. Is aware you’re doing the same. 

“Kook,” you whisper, as if you’re about to reprimand him.

“Please,” he begs. Thinks he needs this just as much as you do. Maybe even more so.

And so somewhere between the overwhelming acknowledgement that this is a catastrophic chain of events, and the promise of a happy ending (of which you know damn well will never reach fruition), you let him sink his lips into yours.

You’re pretty in war, and even prettier in defeat. 

Jungkook thinks you’re prettiest when you’re all his. 

You think that to be his is to accept an eternal loss. 

The breath of his nose is heavy against your cheek as his lips press into yours, brows furrowed. The need for you to be lewd is abandoned, ‘cause Jungkook doesn’t even think he’ll last long enough for it. Thinks that nothing gets him closer than the flavour of your lips. 

Hips still jerking up, the sound of his skin hitting your ass echoing around the room, Jungkook fucks himself into you until he can do it no longer. Pulls away. Rips off his condom. Tosses it to the floor. Gets you face down again. Wanks himself to the point of coming undone, hot spurts of cum dripping onto your ass and spilling down to the valley of your spine.

He’s the one moaning now, your body defiled by a boy who you wish would paint you in pretty compliments instead. Still, this is a compliment. Kind of. You’re hot enough to make him cum. That’s nice, you suppose.

“Shit,” he chokes out, breathing all out of sync, heartbeat far too rapid. A light spank is tapped against your ass, then softly stroked. He soothes. Aloe on sunburn. Milk with hot sauce. Pretty kisses in the comedown of a rough fuck. 

You won’t get those. Wasn’t a particularly rough fuck, either - and yet it hurts so much when he gets up to leave.

It’s awkward. He doesn’t really say bye. Doesn’t acknowledge the fact he stoked a fire inside you that burned you from the inside out. Ignores the ashes that are scattered around your vessel, as if your soul has been ejected from its home. 

He’s warm, when you look at him. That little part of your heart has been stolen once more. He’s just feeding it back to you.

“Sorry,” he says, a hand on your doorknob. “I shouldn’t- I mean, we shouldn’t-”

“It’s fine,” you offer.

That’s the thing about Jungkook. He’ll give you the world, then realise it was never his to give. Always has to ask for it back. You’ve lost count of how many times he’s fucked you, then acted as if was foolish - only to repeat the same mistakes the next evening.

It��s what he’s always done, and is what he’ll always do.

You’ll never learn. 

The shirt you chuck on to head downstairs the next morning is his. 

Far too big for you, it finishes around your thighs. Television blaring in the room beneath you, it’s obvious your housemates are awake, and even as you’re trudging down the stairs, you’re not quite sure you’re alive.

The headache of an overbearing hangover is threatening your life. You’re certain of it. The fact your housemates have the television set to what must be the maximum volume? Only further sending you to an early grave. 

And yet when you see Jungkook sitting by the breakfast bar, hair in all different directions, a bowl of cereal in front of him, and smiling in the direction of whomever else is in the room, you find yourself smiling, too. 

“Morning,” you say pleasantly as you walk into the kitchen, ready to flop your forehead down on Jungkook’s shoulder like you so often do.

Ready, until you notice the look in his eyes when he turns to face you.

Ready, until you glance in the direction of his previous smile.

Ready, until you see the girl who looks a lot like his ex-girlfriend and absolutely nothing like you leaning on the other side of the counter. Mug from your trip to Amsterdam together in her hands, and the shirt you got him for his birthday covering her body, she smiles.

You’re drowning.

“Oh,” you say, not looking at him. Only her. “I didn’t realise we had company.”

“Is she still here?”

“No.”

She’s awkward as she nods. “Sorry, hey. I crashed here last night - hope you don’t mind? It’s just you know what it’s like getting an uber at that time-”

“Yeah, yeah,” you nod. Smile. Jungkook thinks you look pretty - but of course he does. You look defeated. “Totally.”

“Did you fuck her?

“No, Diz. I didn't fuck her.”

“Jungkook said you were feeling unwell last night?” She tries to make conversation. She needn’t. You feel far more unwell now than you ever did last night - and that’s before you notice the pretty purple bruise forming on her neck. “How are you feeling now?”

Her care is kind. Considerate. Wholly wasted on you because you’re gonna lie, and say that you’re fine, even though it feels as if your lungs have been filled with venom spat by a lover who is incapable of loving.

Still, you don’t look at Jungkook. Just make your excuses. Leave.

And even though he knows that he should, Jungkook doesn’t chase after you. 

He lets you go, because he knows you’ll always come back. You always do.

But if you don't?

Well, he’ll go back to you, and you’ll let him. Again, you always do.

From the kitchen, Jungkook can hear your showering starting up. Appetite lost, he isn’t listening to the girl in front of him. Isn’t even really sure of her name.

All that he’s sure of is that the fall out of this is not gonna be pretty.

[obeythebutler]

Welcome to The Devildom!

Link to previous rules

Leviathan

The shut-in third oldest of the brothers.......also the Grand Admiral of Hell's Navy. Envy is his sin, and social gatherings are something he loathes.

Are you a hardcore otaku? Or a shut-in? You may find that getting along with this brother is just a tad easier.

Leviathan rarely steps out of his room. You may see him at mealtimes, in Seductive Speedcraft or when he's bothering Mammon to return his money.

You are not to enter his room unless given permission. This rule has not been created out of respect, but because of the plethora of figurines that might get damaged, or the seemingly innocent video games that will suck you in. And when that happens, Leviathan will be furious.

He has high social anxiety, along with self-depreciating traits. You may assure him of his worth, but there is no guarantee that the demon will not revert back to his ways.

Do not pretend to be a fan of the animes he likes to watch, or even Tale of the Seven Lords for that matter. I'm sure you must have heard of it, after all, such things cannot be avoided when it comes to Leviathan. Lie, and when you are caught, face the consequences.

This demon is prone to feelings of jealously. They fester and linger in his mind until all that comes out is poison. He will usually sulk, but if left unchecked, may turn violent. Watch out for a great flood, and hide when the seven-header monster arrives at the call of his master. Seek the second-born's refuge in such cases.

One method to figure out Leviathan's moods is to examine the three buttons of emojis on his cardigan jacket. A smiley face means you are safe to interact, a neutral one dictates treading cautiously, and a frown is the message to not approach.

You will now ask, is a demon of such habits one to be feared, called the Grand Admiral of Hell's Navy. Yes, yes, and yes is the answer. First glances often deceive, same is true for Leviathan. He has participated in wars that have led to Him banishing them. And is your mortal life of any significance when faced with such a being?

Since the ocean is his domain, you are to be mindful of not intentionally harming marine life, nor disrespecting them. He knows everything that takes place in the deep waters, and disrespect is not taken kindly.

But, if you are ever lost at sea, you may summon him. Be ready with a suitable offering to appeal to his tastes, or brace yourself for the seven-headed fiend of water.

If you are an otaku, you will find common ground with this demon. Share and present all your figurines and treasured items, but do not outshine the demon. Jealously wants and wants and wants what it does not have. And after all, a useless mortal like you possessing such fine items? How dare you how dare you how dare you

Next up: Satan

[takes1]

Some fluff w Koushi maybe?🫶

koushi realizing barista!reader is pretty cute

thanks for the request! this was a cute and refreshing prompt for me <3 much love!!

warnings. none info. sfw / fluff / college!au / coffeeshop!au / simple but cute / suga wears cardigans / timeskip!suga / like imagine english teacher suga pulling a stretchy cardigan over himself ugh so cute / 630 words links. haikyuu collection. masterlist. requests open. my ao3

"Good morning!" A gentle voice blessed your ears.

You smiled without looking up from the register.

Mr. Cardigan's ritual began. Glance over the menu, top-right to the espresso drinks, consider getting a decaf-- of course he won't go with the decaf, it was 7:40 and he was already tapping his foot to get to his 8 a.m class. Then he would decide on his tried and true as if it were a brand new idea:

"Double espresso, steamed milk, sweetened with honey."

He was wearing a face of mild shock, a touch of embarrassment, when you looked up from the order you already input.

"Oh, shit--," You laughed, warm at your slip-up, "I'm so sorry."

"Nono, it's- it's fine," He sported a similar color.

After a moment's hesitation, he chuckled and gave you his card.

Your Monday, Wednesday, Friday shift lined up with everyone who had a MWF 8 a.m (+9, 9:30, 10:00, and 10:30, regrettably). He was one of the few you cared to remember since he was such a cutie and he usually tipped you well.

"It's been a long morning, I get it," He graced you with a smooth forgiveness.

You sighed, relieved, and agreed wholeheartedly.

Spring semester was right at the close. Most were coming in to the Business building's little ground-level cafe early or late to cram for finals. He stayed consistent throughout the past few months, though, with his 7:40 sharp arrival.

7:44 if there was a line, but that was Mondays. Fridays weren't as busy because so many people skipped. But reliable Mr. Cardigan never missed a class.

"Almost done, though," You handed him his card back and spun the tip screen around for him, expecting nothing this time.

"Thank god," He tapped for No Receipt and closed his wallet.

He stood at the counter with his hands crossed in front of him to wait for his drink.

He never noticed how pretty your hands were before today. He looked down at his own kinda stumpy fingers. Then he watched -careful not to come across as creepy- at how gingerly you held the mug to the steam wand while screwing the filter in place.

The urge to talk to you nudged at the back of his throat, but he fell silent when you flipped the switch on.

The espresso machine was always a little too loud to talk over.

It was a graceful background noise to those who studied in this lobby, and a good backdrop to stay quiet to.

This time, he didn't feel as though your usual exchange was natural anymore. He wanted to talk, but didn't know quite how. The usual 4-minute wait felt like ages, but today he wasn't keen on leaving until he spoke to you again.

Your eyes flitted over his when you turned towards the lobby side for the honey.

His broad shoulders tensed and he turned his head to take false interest in some of the artwork on the walls. He didn't realize he was staring so hard.

He wondered how long you had been paying attention to him. If was just habit, or maybe a fondness had been growing and he was always too tired to notice anything other than how well you made his drink.

Now it was impossible not to overthink your friendly customer-service smile, or the smiley face you always put on the side of his cup.

Say something!

He repeated it so many times that his mind had been made unintentionally blank when you held the cup up for him to take over the counter.

"Good luck with finals," You said softly.

When he reached for his latte, your fingertips brushed for the tiniest moment. An intense heat crept up the back of his neck.

A shaky, "You, too," was all he could manage.

masterlist.

requests open.

[datshitrandom]

“And That’s What You REALLY Missed” Podcast | Holiday Edition ft. Darren Criss | iHeartland at State Farm Park 

[thecynthh]

a little ink - C.S

summery - y/n is journaling in bed but chris gets bored of his phone and begins to play around with y/n's stationary.

notes - fluff <33333, chris is so boyfriend, i thought the fandom needed more fluff, short

a/n - hey yall, this is an apology gift because ive been bad on being active and writing so enjoy this lil thing i whipped up.

——————————————————————————

——————————————————————————

i stationed myself on my side of the large bed with a little tray table on top of my bare legs. my shorts barely covered up to my mid thigh so the vent near me was absolutely chilling. i begin to go slowly when i'm trying to write a title for my next page, i began to journal when my boyfriends brother and my therapist recommended it to me, despite how simple matt’s was, I thought i could take it up a notch and make it a little cutesy. 

my pencil case was jam packed with highlighters, colourful pens and high quality markers, my concentration stays strict on the page in front of me, i tried to keep my penmanship neat while i'm trying to write something in cursive. a warm hand wraps around my ankles as i look down beside me seeing chris look at me with want in his eyes. “hi chris,” i simply say looking at the boy while i put the cap back onto my brush tip marker. 

“hi baby,” he looks up at me with a beaming bright smile, he just radiates good energy and love. he drops his phone beside him now playing a song instead of the various audios from tiktok. 

his hand sneaks up into my pencil case grabbing a yellow marker from it. he uncaps it and i feel the light pressure of it press down onto my skin, the yellow marker glides along my scar, he continues to draw past it to make a star out of the previously hurt skin. chris knew i was self conscious about my scars, it was a permanent reminder of the pain i went through in highschool. 

he didn’t care though. he continued to draw random doodles on my leg, moving on to my arms where more scars lay hurt, he switched out his marker for a different colour the more he explored. little hearts, stars and chris’ signature riddle my legs and arms, i feel his writing getting a bit faster. It looks like a sentence but i couldn’t quite read it.

 i stopped what i was doing a long time ago, now just admiring what he was doing. he was so focused on writing his signature on the larger line of a scar i had on my arm using the line from my body to represent the line through the dollar sign he always made whenever he wrote his name. 

he does a very magnificent heart beside his name, filling it in still trying to be very soft on  my skin as the ink seeps in. he plants a fulfilling kiss onto the scar now covered in orange ink, he looks up at me with a little bit of a knowing look painted on his face. “im sorry, it was only meant to be a little ink but your scars are beautiful, as is the rest of you.” his finger underlines the sentence imprinted on my skin as he reads it out. 

“chris i'm gonna cry oh my gosh. you are so cute, you know that?” i saw trying to hold back a sob. 

a chuckle escapes his smiley lips “i love you so much y/n” his lips make contact with the star that started the rest of the pseudo tattoos. i wish i could keep this image in my head forever, because this was a moment too precious to let go of.

taglist - @westwiing13 @comet235 @mayhem73

[midmourn]

mune ga hachikire-sōde (my heart seems like it’s going to burst)

title mune ga hachikire-sōde (my heart seems like it’s going to burst)

pairing huang renjun x gender neutral!reader

summary you and your friends always sit at the table a couple down from mine and talk shit in madarin, which happens to be a language i’m currently learning. i’ve been eavesdropping to try and improve my listening comprehension and oh my god are you actually talking about how pretty i am???

characters huang renjun, zhong chenle [nct], liu yangyang [wayv], hwang yeji [itzy]

warnings none but it does imply you speak korean as well

word count 812

author’s note rewrite from my old blog. italics = mandarin

Here’s the thing: you were pretty firm on privacy. You didn’t like yours getting invaded by nosy people, and even have scolded so many for doing so. Yet, here you were; eavesdropping. You were no better than them.

You usually tried to ignore the group of boys that always sat at the same table, talking shit about people in their lives in Mandarin.

But could anyone really blame you? When the pretty boy with stars for eyes kept glancing over in your direction and commenting to his friends in Mandarin, “Aren’t they so pretty? … No, the one facing us.”

You ducked your head, feeling heat rise to your cheeks as you barely managed to hide your growing smile. If you just smiled at seemingly nothing, you’d seem like a weirdo.

Yeji eyed you with a weird look, brows furrowing, “What’s got you all smiley, huh?” She poked you in the arm with her pen.

You shushed her quietly, shaking your head as you leaned in to whisper to her, “You see the boy with the white cardigan?” When she briefly looked over and nodded, you continued, “He’s telling his friend about how pretty I am in Mandarin.” You giggle.

A grin rose on her lips, looking over again, “What’s he saying now?”

“His friend’s asking why he won’t come talk to me,” you keep your head down, seemingly focused on your laptop. “Stop looking over there! You’ll get us caught.”

“Sorry, sorry,” she giggled, looking down at her notebook. “Hey, what’s the answer for number two?”

“You’re only on two?” Your mouth dropped open in shock. Yeji shrugged, cheeks flaring. “It’s C. Anyways, he’s saying he won’t ‘cause he doesn’t want to embarrass himself if I was already taken,” you hum, glancing up momentarily and accidentally making eye contact with the cute boy.

His cheeks flushed red, head snapping back to his friends, “They just caught me looking at them! See!” His friend’s head turned to look at you, “No! Don’t look, dumbass!”

“I agree, he’s a dumbass, but look at what?” A dark haired boy joined the conversation, speaking in Korean instead of Mandarin.

His friend hushed him, “Shut up! Don’t speak in Korean.”

The boy blinked.

“Don’t look, but you see the person studying with the girl with braids in her hair behind me?” The boy with his back towards you asked the new boy. You could see out of the corner of your eye that the new boy looked towards your direction anyway.

“Dude,” the cute boy groaned in exasperation, putting his face in his hands.

“He asked if I could see them! How was I not supposed to look?”

“Whatever, Renjun thinks they’re pretty.” Renjun was the boy’s name, huh? You smiled to yourself.

“They are. Go tell them that, ge,” the boy said.

“Are you crazy? I’m not going to make a fool out of myself!” The cute boy’s—Renjun— voice cracked cutely at the end.

“Why not? You don’t know what will happen!” The other nameless boy said.

“They’re way too pretty for me,” Renjun shook his head again, cheeks red as he kept making small glances to you. You felt as if your heart was about to burst out of your chest. “I said no,” he added firmly in Korean when the boy opened his mouth to speak again.

The boy shrugged, “Fine, I will.” Ignoring Renjun’s protests, he stood and made his way to you. Your heart pounded in your chest at the thought of confrontation. You scribbled a word on your notebook, pretending to be busy. When he approached your table, both you and Yeji looked up. “Hi, I’m Chenle. You see my friend over there?” Your heads turned to see that Renjun was now clutching the menu, hiding behind it. Chenle sighed in disappointment, “Yeah, the weirdo hiding behind the menu. Anyways, he thinks you’re pretty.”

You knew this already, but your cheeks flushed red. You smiled, “I know.” Chenle’s brows rose in shock at your confession and you could hear the other boy voice his confusion at their table, making you giggle. “I know Mandarin.” You looked at the time on your phone and smiled again, looking up at Yeji, “It’s getting late, my mom will kill me if I’m not home before eight.” Chenle watched as the two of you got up.

You grabbed a paper and pen, quickly writing on it before giving it to Chenle, “Give this to your friend.” You looked up and sent a wink, but in your head, you were freaking out, but managed to keep your cool.

You finished packing your things up and smiled one last time at the group of boys before walking out with your friend.

Renjun grabbed the paper hastily from Chenle and started to read it, his cheeks getting even more red if possible.

i think you’re pretty cute too, and my name’s y/n.

so now that you know mine, i think it’s fair enough that i know yours. :)

***-***-****

- y/n <3

main masterlist

networks @k-films

[wileys-russo]

cosy cardigan wearing smiley pookie bear 🐻

[avonne-writes]

Happy Birthday Week! Requesting [ NAP ] while receiver is resting, sender joins them in bed & cuddles up close😊😊

Thank you, dear! ❤️ I'm going to take this in a potentially unexpected direction by putting it in the universe of Reverie a bit over 40 years after the fic, so the guys are in their seventies. This is a bit sad, but still sweet.

Edit: uploaded it on AO3 too

Bucky hums along to the music coming from the radio as he shuts off the stove and sets the table for dinner. These new kids ain’t that bad, he thinks as he tries to recall what their band's name is. They have just said it on the broadcast but he already forgot. Well, doesn’t matter, he loves the upbeat, catchy melodies, the same way he loved the disco tunes of the 70s. Gale hates it, naturally, like he hates everything that isn’t at least 30 years old.

Grouchy old man, Bucky smirks to himself as he gets the little metal cases containing their daily medicine. They have matching pin-up girl designs, "retro" art, if he got that right when he bought the damn things for Christmas last year. Gale called him sentimental for it, but then he was the one sniffling back his emotions as Bucky playfully counted which one of them had more pills to take per day. He never got to call a winner - Gale reached out with his pale fingers, a bit shaky since his last hospital stay, and pulled Bucky's hand away. Weather forecast's in five minutes, he said as he tugged Bucky towards the television. Oh, the weather forecast, Bucky chuckled back then, and he chuckles at the memory now. Any cumulonimbuses tonight? In response, Gale gave him a look that conveyed all fifty-something years of exasperated love he held for Bucky and pressed him down into his favourite armchair.

Bucky isn't sure if Gale could press him down anywhere now. But it's okay, he's gonna gain his strength back, Bucky knows. It’s only been two weeks since they gave him the A-okay and let Bucky take him home from the hospital again. Gotta give it some time. It’s not like they have any reason to rush things now, do they? They have all the time in the world.

"Dinner's ready, doll!" He calls out and pokes at the pills on Gale's plate until they form a smiley face. Silence fills their home with a peaceful lull. The sky blushes outside as the sun sets with broad, warm rays that stream in through the kitchen window. "Gale!"

No answer. There’s a tinge of worry in Bucky's chest but he swallows it down and walks through the living room to the back, where he sees that their bedroom door is slightly ajar. When he pokes his head inside, he finds Gale fast asleep on top of the covers, curled up on his side as always. Bucky's knitted cardigan lies draped over his too-thin frame.

The worry in Bucky's heart dissolves into something tender and familiar. As quietly as he can, he shuffles over to his side of the mattress and forces his creaking knees to lower his body on it gently. Gale doesn’t stir. There’s a faint smile on his face as he naps, his hands tucked under his head. He’s so beautiful that Bucky feels like he could stare at him forever. At the wrinkles of his laugh lines, the soft fall of his silver hair, much fuller than Bucky's own, at the scar on his cheek. Memories etched into his skin, each and every one of them matching one of Bucky's own.

Bucky shifts to lie down beside him, grunting as he settles on his side, then strokes Gale's cheek with the back of his hand. Gale doesn’t wake up, but he nuzzles his pillow and mumbles something. Bucky wonders what he dreams of. Is it more memory than fantasy? They rarely venture anywhere new anymore, but still, one can always wonder. And Gale might be tired here, in this exhausting, complicated world, where he has to carry the weight of a life in his limbs, but in his mind, oh, Bucky knows how young he is in there.

Slowly, he curls towards Gale's body and presses a kiss to his cheek, then a few more to the underside of his jaw until Gale starts snickering in his sleep, then wakes up. He blinks up at Bucky with his sky blue eyes, then closes them again and reaches out with both arms. As easy as breathing, he rolls Bucky into his embrace, and they settle down with Bucky's face pressed to Gale's neck and their legs tangled.

"Where did you go?" Bucky murmurs, stroking Gale's side.

"I don't know." Gale's deep voice rumbles against his forehead.

Bucky knows that I don't know means the fragments of their first dreamscape. The cabin, the river, the woods. Laundry drying in the sunshine. Memories upon memories layered over each other, and never coherent again in Gale's mind. But lately, it seems, Gale likes the blur. He keeps drifting back there nowadays. Not to search for something or to build on the rubble, but to remember. To relive.

Gale's fingers comb through Bucky's hair. "I dreamt that we had a puppy." He says, tone light with amusement. "It licked my face."

Bucky chuckles into the warm space between them. He drags the tickling strands of his moustache over Gale's skin. "Huh. Strange."

In his embrace, he can feel Gale going boneless again. Drifting off to his dreamscape. He naps a lot nowadays. But it's okay. They have nowhere else to be. Dinner can wait.

"Can I come see?" Bucky whispers.

"Always." Gale mumbles, and a few minutes later, when he pulls Bucky into his dreams, he’s blond and full of life again, running through the haze of a warm memory, and Bucky chases him as if nothing hurt and they were both okay.

[withahappyrefrain]

this one is so cute! 🍂🍁🍃

A stands in a queue when they notice a leaf stuck in the hair/on the clothes of the person in front of them. They offer to remove it for them.

for bob and maeve?

AHHHH so excited to start writing for these two! And of course I had to bring in Bradley and Birdie! ❤️❤️ Enjoy!

Fall in San Diego was different. By the time October started rolling, the average temperature had cooled down to a ‘crisp’ seventy degrees. Chunky sweaters were traded in for light cardigans. Sure, you could wear a scarf, but not a functional one. Gone were the days of needing gloves.

It was a stark difference from the east coast.

Gone was the scenic view of mountains and orchards. In its place were micro-breweries and overpriced wineries. But also gone was a shitty ex husband. In its place, the unknown.

At least the farmer markets here still sold apple butter.

It was a consolidation prize for Maeve. She was forever grateful that Nora wanted to show her around, but that also meant third wheeling for Nora and her fiancé. Worse, they were sickeningly in love. She had never been so happy for her best friend, but also so fucking jealous at the same time.

So she would enjoy these last few moments, while Nora was trying to find her partner amidst the crowd. They tried to not make her feel bad, but being around them reminded Maeve how alone she had become.

Wait, did that guy have a leaf on his back?

Upon squinting her hazel eyes, she saw that man standing in front of her did in fact, have a leaf on the back of his plaid shirt.

Should she- oh thank God, he was reaching for it. Now Maeve wouldn't have to look at it while standing in line.

Nope. Despite his long arms, the leaf had wedged itself in a place where he couldn't reach. Oh God, was she going to have to watch him struggle the whole time?

Wanting to save her sanity outweighed her dislike of talking to strangers.

"I can get it for you, the leaf. If you want?"

He turned around to reveal a face that made her heart flutter. Bright blue eyes, bluer than the ocean. Tortoiseshell glasses that framed his face. Sunkissed hair, tousled in waves. A button nose that brought a sense of sweetness to him. A smattering of faded freckles, no doubt from hours upon hours of being out in the sun.

"Could you? That would be great, otherwise it's gonna bother me all day?" His voice was smooth as whiskey, a rural upbringing lacing his words.

But what was most astounding was his smile. The way his thin pink lips contorted to form a small, slightly crooked smile. The creases that formed around his oceanic eyes, showing years of smiles and laughter.

God, he just looked kind. The type that Maeve always wondered what it would be like to have. To see first thing in the morning and the last thing when she closed her eyes at night.

"M'am?" It didn't come across as condescending, it was actually charming. It was also said in such a deep vibrato that Maeve to snap out of whatever the fuck those last two minutes was.

It's been three months, for fuck sake's Maeve.

Why would he even be interested in you?

This is why you're a twenty-eight year old divorceé.

Maeve nodded as she mentally scolded herself, "Absolutely, not a problem."

Bob turned around, despite not wanting to. He would rather focus on the umber curls that framed her face. Or the way shades of hickory and green swirled together in her eyes. His favorite had to be how her eyes squinted when she smiled. His mother would call that as having 'smiley eyes' when he was a child.

Jesus Christ, we're really desperate now.

It wouldn't end well for you anyways. Never does.

That's why you're thirty-four and still single, Robert.

So in a way, he was grateful to turn around, as it was a chance to get himself together.

That lasted for maybe ten seconds. Bob couldn't tell if touch was incredibly gentle or if she wasn't touching him. So he turned his head, catching her reaching out.

The eye contact made Maeve freeze for a beat or two. Once Bob flashed her that sweet smile, she found the strength to continue, internally marveling at how soft his shirt felt.

He must use fabric softener. Maybe he attends this market regularly. Maybe-

It's been three months.

Yes, three months since the document was signed and it was made official legally. But the acceptance of a unsustainable marriage had occured a year ago.

She held up the leaf for effect, "You want to keep it as memorabilia?"

Bob chuckled, making Maeve feel warm all over, as if she had just drank mulled cider, "No, no, I think I'm good. But I'd love to buy that for you as a way to say thanks."

This time it was her turn to shake her head, "Oh, it was nothing! Just a leaf." Bob noticed that when she shook her head, the curls that had fallen over his forehead shook slightly.

God, she was adorable. Absolutely, completely endearing.

"Yeah, but that would have bothered me the whole time I was with my friends. I wouldn't have been able to focus on anything else," he grinned, "Plus you had no issue talking to a complete stranger. That's gotta be commended."

A laugh escapes from her rosey lips, "I usually hate talking to strangers." Fuck, why would you even say that?

If he found it odd, the handsome stranger didn't visibly or vocally show it, "Yeah, I'm not a huge fan of that either. Again, gotta be commended."

She looked down at the jar of apple butter, "It would be faster if you paid for mine. I'm meeting some friends too."

"Happy to serve," the unintentional pun about his career was lost on her. At least he could bring it up to Mickey, who would get a good laugh out of it. And his wife Cielo too. And then they would probably do something sweet, like kiss while holding hands, unintentionally reminding Bob how utterly alone it felt coming home from work every day.

Their hands brushed against one another when Maeve transferred the jar to Bob. He turned around, partly to see if he needed to step forward, partly to hide the smile on his face.

Had he turned around, he would have seen the same smile on her face. One that was full of excitement, felt for the first time in years. Just like him.

Eventually, he looked back, this time mainly to see if his friends were amidst the crowd of shoppers.

He felt the need to explain, out of fear of coming across as creepy, "My friend went looking for his fiancé. She's bringing her best friend."

What a coincidence, Nora's fiancé was bringing a friend too.

Yeah, to help you feel less shitty about always being their third wheel.

"Well does your friend have any idea where his fiancé could be?" Maeve asked as Bob paid for the two jars of apple butter.

"Oh yeah, Birdie's first stop is always the Takyaki stand," Bob paused, "Birdie isn't her real name, it's just-"

"Do you mean Nora?" Maeve's voice was now timid. Blood rushing through her veins, wondering if it was too good to be true.

Bob stopped in his tracks, brows knitting together, "How do you know her name?"

Before Maeve could explain, two new voices interrupted.

"Bob?" "Maeve?"

Turning around revealed Nora (who many referred to as 'Birdie'), who was holding the hand of her fiancé, Bradley (who at work was referred to as 'Rooster').

Bob and Maeve turned their attention back to one another, realization hitting like a brick wall.

He's the kindest guy I know. You'll love him.

She's honestly just the sweetest. It's a damn shame what happened.

They're like you. They've been through similar shit.

"You're Maeve?" He had a long finger pointed at her (God his hands were huge) but it wasn't accusing.

Maeve felt at ease, like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders as she nodded, her eyes creasing due to her smile.

There were those smiley eyes that made his knees weak.

"I am and you're Bob? Just Bob, right? No totally random, work nickname?" With anyone else, it would have been demeaning. A few years ago, Bob would have taken offense.

But his shoulders were feeling lighter these days thanks to the past actually staying in its namesake more often.

"Well, my full name is Robert. I have some family who call me Rob, some call me Robby but that's because I gave them explicit permission to do so, not everyone reaches that level. And then some of my friends call me Bobby. So in terms of work nickname, you're correct, it's not totally random." His eyes were so expressive, it was memorizing to watch.

Charming. He was actually charming.

"Well, I think having multiple nicknames that are based off of your actual name is better than having one and it's a children's game or bird," she turned her head to flash a smile, "No offense Bradley."

Bradley, who was used to her strong opinions on call signs and now only a foot away, simply rolled his eyes, "No offense taken Maeve. But we do call him Bagman, remember?"

A coy smile spread across her face, something Bob found so endearing.

"So you two....know each other?" Nora asked, raising an eyebrow. She swears she would have remembered her best friend meeting one of her fiancé's best work friends.

"We actually just met. Maeve saved me from an afternoon of trying to reach a spot on my back to get rid of a leaf," Bob explained, gently putting his hand on Maeve's shoulder. His touch was pleasant, considerate even.

"Bob got me some apple butter as a thank you," Maeve held up the jar while looking down, hoping no one would notice the rosy hue that was spreading across her face.

"Which, I assume is to make your famous cinnamon sugar apple butter pie?" Bob now turned to her, his eyes lit up with excitement.

Catching her confused expression, Bob jumped in, "When you left a pie after visiting Birdie, Bradley brought in leftovers. It was a huge hit, I still think about it."

Charlie always had an issue with whatever she cooked. Too salty. Not healthy babe. Why are you even making that?

But Charlie wasn't here. He was on the east coast, no doubt trying to find another gullible person to invest in one of his bullshit 'ideas'.

Instead there was Bob, who had a sparkle in his eyes. Who had not only heard about you, but remembered details too.

God, the bar was so fucking low.

Meanwhile, Bob hadn't thought about Cassie once since meeting the curly, raven haired woman with the most adorable smile he had ever seen.

"Well, given the lack of a paper bag in Nora's hand, I'd say it's time we head to the Hog Haven stand and get some breakfast sandwiches," Maeve suggested, hoping it would turn the attention away from her.

"Absolutely! I know Bob wanted to stop by the pickling stand for Sauerkraut and that's on the way!" Nora grabbed Bradley's hand, and walked forward, leaving Bob and Maeve to walk side by side.

Almost as if it was planned that way.

"What's the Sauerkraut for?" Maeve asked, secretly noticing how he slowed his stride to match hers.

"I'm making Bigos. It means 'Hunter Stew' in Polish. My mom made it for me and my siblings all the time growing up. She's back in Wisconsin, and since it's finally 'cooled down' here, figured it was a good time to make it."

Bob can't remember the last time he felt this talkative to someone new. Usually it takes hours, sometimes even multiple outings for him to warm up. And that was if he liked the person's company.

It took him two months to warm up to Jake.

But something about Maeve had him talking a mile a minute. Even Bradley had turned around to raise his eyebrows at how much Bob was talking. He had to be careful; the last thing he needed was to be in the same situation he was in six years ago.

"I'm not super familiar with Polish food- other than bagels and pierogi's- but I'd like to learn more about it," her voice was sweet, albeit slightly reserved. Not wanting to appear too eager, or insinuate anything.

"I have a whole box of recipes from my mom and Aunts and Grandma. I can bring it next time-" He paused. No, don't assume. Never assume. "I can pass it on to Bradley who can give it to Birdie. Whichever you prefer."

"We can leave y'all to talk to each other if you want!" Bradley called out before turning his attention back to Nora.

"I have a feeling this won't be the last time we see each other. Not if those two lovebirds have anything to say about it." Her comment brought out a laugh in Bob, which in turn caused a big smile to break out across Maeve's face.

"Glad I'm not the only one who calls them that. Everyone else says it's too cheesy." "Well, those people have no love or appreciation for puns. Luckily for you Robby, I do."

He didn't correct her. In fact, he liked how the name sounded coming from her pink lips.

"Maybe we can keep talking about puns and recipes while they," Bob pointed to Bradley and Nora, who were currently holding hands and exchanging (what they thought to be) sneaky kisses, "Are themselves."

"So they act this way around you too?" Maeve's eyes lit up, relieved she wasn't the only one who had to deal with the most sickeningly sweet couple on the planet, "Being a third wheel with them is rough."

The two had now stopped at the pickles goods stand, ignoring their friends who had invited them out.

"I think it's going well! I never saw her smile this much with Charlie," Nora whispered excitedly, unable to take her green eyes off of Maeve and Bob.

"I'd say so," Bradley looked at Nora, not needing to see that his friend was talking to Maeve with a gleam in his blue eyes, a rare sight, "You know it's not going to happen overnight, right?"

"I'm aware. But I think they're off to a good start," Nora grinned. The sight of her best friend, looking the happiest she's seen in the past year, kept her bounce on her toes.

Bob and Maeve were indeed, off to a good start.