#to the beach to look at the water and the sunset

[caitified]

hiii can you do a fix where caitlin and the reader go on vacation with bella to like fiji and bella becomes obsessed with the ocean and the island you can also do it with paige if you want

FIJI

CAITLIN CLARK X READER

notes: more bella requests please!!

it was your first real family vacation in a long time, and fiji felt like paradise the second you landed. the air was warm, the sky was impossibly blue, and the moment you stepped off the plane with caitlin and bella, it felt like the rest of the world didn’t exist. just the three of you, surrounded by palm trees, white sand, and crystal-clear water.

bella, in her tiny sunglasses and a sun hat that was just slightly too big for her, was already babbling excitedly, even though she had no idea what was happening.

“mommy, what’s that?” she pointed dramatically out of the airport window.

“that’s the ocean, baby,” caitlin told her, adjusting the toddler on her hip as she grabbed your luggage with her free hand. “we’re gonna go swimming in it.”

bella gasped, her little mouth forming an “o�� as she turned to you. “swimming?”

you nodded, smiling. “yes, baby. you’re gonna love it.”

and she did.

from the second her tiny feet touched the sand, she was in love. she stomped around in it, laughing at how it squished between her toes, but the real obsession started the moment she saw the ocean up close.

you barely had time to set your bags down at the beachfront villa before she was yanking at caitlin’s hand, pointing toward the waves. “mommy, water! water!”

caitlin, who had planned to at least unpack a little, sighed dramatically but let bella drag her along. “babe, she’s already got me working,” she called over her shoulder as you laughed.

you followed them out onto the beach, watching as caitlin let bella go, and the toddler sprinted toward the water, her little legs pumping as fast as they could.

“bella, wait—” but it was useless. she was gone.

she stopped right at the edge where the waves kissed the shore, shrieking with delight as the water lapped at her toes. when a slightly bigger wave rolled in and covered her feet, she gasped and turned back to look at both of you with wide, sparkling eyes. “it touched me!”

“that’s what the ocean does, baby,” you laughed, stepping closer and picking her up before the next wave could knock her over.

from that moment on, it was over. bella was obsessed. she wanted to be in the ocean from sunrise to sunset. she called it “my water” and got very territorial when other kids ran past her.

“they can’t have my water!” she pouted to caitlin one afternoon.

“baby, it’s the ocean,” caitlin tried to reason, holding back a laugh. “it belongs to everyone.”

“no. my water.”

caitlin just looked at you and shook her head. “she’s literally trying to claim the pacific ocean as her own.”

you shrugged. “i respect the confidence.”

bella ran both of you ragged the entire trip. she wanted to go to the beach immediately after waking up. she’d sit in the sand, letting the waves roll over her legs like she was some kind of ocean princess. she’d talk to the fish she saw while snorkeling with caitlin in the shallow reefs. she even cried when you told her you had to leave the beach for dinner.

and when the trip was almost over, she sat on the sand with her arms crossed, frowning at the waves.

“i don’t wanna leave,” she grumbled.

caitlin sat next to her, wrapping an arm around her tiny shoulders. “i know, baby, but we’ll come back.”

bella turned to you, pouting. “promise?”

you bent down, brushing a curl out of her face. “promise, baby.”

that seemed to satisfy her just enough to let you scoop her up and take her inside, though she did give the ocean one last very dramatic wave goodbye.

and, of course, when you got home, she refused to talk about anything but her beloved ocean.

“mommy, remember my water?”

“mommy, i miss my fishies.”

“mommy, can we go back to my island?”

caitlin just looked at you every time, shaking her head. “babe, i think we accidentally created a beach bum.”

you smiled, watching bella play with the seashells she brought home. “yeah. and i don’t think she’s ever gonna recover from it.”*

[prettyangellllll]

Tides of Affection

summary: you are comforting rafe

pairing: rafe cameron x gf reader

warnings : fluff

────୨ৎ────

Sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink. Rafe Cameron leaned against the old wooden railing of the porch, looking out over the sprawling landscape of the Outer Banks. The waves crashed softly on the beach, a peaceful rhythm that contrasted sharply with the chaos in his head.

It had been a long day, filled with the usual stress and drama that followed him around like a shadow. But for the moment, everything felt calm. He took a deep breath, letting the salty air fill his lungs, and closed his eyes for a brief second. He could hear footsteps behind him, the sound of sand crunching beneath boots, and he didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

"Hey," a soft voice said, and Rafe turned to find you standing there, your smile like a lighthouse in a storm.

"Hey," he replied, his lips pulling into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. But you didn’t mind. You never minded.

You knew Rafe better than anyone. Underneath the tough exterior, the recklessness, the unpredictable behavior, was a guy who just needed someone to believe in him. And you did. Always had.

You stepped closer, offering him a warm mug of hot chocolate. "I thought you might need this."

He glanced at the mug, then at you. You were always doing little things like this—quiet acts of kindness that made him feel seen in ways he didn’t even know he needed. He took the mug from you, his fingers brushing against yours for just a moment. A spark. It was always there between you two, like an unspoken promise.

"Thanks," he said softly, his voice a little more sincere than usual. He took a sip, the warmth spreading through him, a welcome contrast to the cool evening air.

You stayed beside him, leaning against the railing and staring out at the water. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable; it was familiar, comforting. You didn’t need to fill every moment with words to feel close to him.

"You’re quiet," you observed after a beat.

Rafe sighed, his gaze distant. "Just thinking," he muttered, though you knew it wasn’t just thoughts that weighed on him. It was the constant pressure, the fear that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake off the past.

You didn’t push him to talk about it. Instead, you nudged his shoulder gently, smiling. "You know, I think you’ve got the wrong idea about sunsets. You’re supposed to enjoy them, not overthink them."

Rafe chuckled softly, the sound low and surprisingly light. "I didn’t know sunsets came with instructions."

"Well, they do now," you teased, a playful glint in your eyes. "It’s a rule—no thinking. Just... relax and watch. You deserve that."

He let out a breath, glancing at you for a long moment. It was almost like he was seeing you for the first time today. Not the girl who was always there for him, not the one who patiently tried to help him sort through his mess. Just you. The person who somehow made everything feel like it could be okay.

"You’re always so good to me," he said quietly, his voice betraying a softness he didn’t show often.

You smiled at him, leaning a little closer. "That’s because I see you, Rafe. Not the stuff everyone else sees, just you. And I like you—every part of you."

He felt his heart tug in his chest, the warmth from the hot chocolate doing nothing to calm the butterflies in his stomach. He wanted to say something—something to show just how much he appreciated you, how much he needed you—but the words didn’t come easily to him.

Instead, he set the mug down, turning toward you fully. He reached out, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear in a gesture that was surprisingly tender. His touch lingered on your skin for just a second longer than necessary, and when he looked into your eyes, there was something unspoken in his gaze.

"I don’t know what I’d do without you," he admitted quietly, his voice barely a whisper above the sound of the waves.

You smiled, your heart swelling. "Well, good thing you’ll never have to find out."

And then, without another word, Rafe took your hand in his, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. You smiled up at him, knowing that this moment—this calm, peaceful moment—was something that could carry both of you through whatever storms life might throw next.

As the last sliver of the sun disappeared beneath the horizon, you stood there together, hands intertwined, wrapped up in the quiet certainty that sometimes, the best kind of love was the one that didn’t need to be said aloud.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Steve, Bucky, Fever Dreams, and Unintentional Seduction

The soft, snuffling sounds of sleep emanating from Steve and his rattling lungs and plugged nose with its deviated septum don't simply stop, cutting out from the ongoing droning of his snores to slightly less loud, waking breathing, heavy and labored with sickness layered over his usual asthma. No, the waters are much muddier than that. Steve's stream of consciousness, running between sleep and wake and dizzying under the flood of his fever, is hard to see through. Muddy, indeed.

The thing that announces to Bucky that his sick-as-a-dog boyfriend has woken from his latest fever-inspired nap is the rough scratch of his baritone perking up Bucky's ears.

Instinctively, reclining in their ratty, creaking armchair, Bucky turns his head to see what's the matter.

Nothing seems to be, though. For all his waking up, talking, slurring, as if he's continuing a sentence that he was already weaving in a discombobulated dream, he's still huddled in a pile of thin, thread-bare blankets on their sidewalk-free-sign-found couch. The layers obscure his boney yet angelic body as it sweats and shivers. He's been fighting his latest illness for a few days now. Bucky thought it was on the downswing, but

"--know that ya don't think 'm lookin' an' I am, 'm watchin', you're arms are, mmmngh, lov'yur arms, arms're good, flex when you, yah-ya, when yur shavin' ur face, handsome m'fckin' face, you don't even know it, ya, jus', standin' there... shaving--"

Hearing him talk like that? Maybe not.

Maybe he's sicker than ever, running his mouth, letting his hotter than fever libido slip out of his mouth, mirroring the slide of beads of sweat down the side of his face.

"--Mmmhmm, shaving, arms, gettin' s'close to th-the mirror, breath hot on th'glass, foggin' it up, leanin', leanin' over, jezuuss, yur ass, Buck. S'dissssstracting. Stickinn out. Ass. Arms. Like yur arms. S'big. So big. Yur so big. Wanna bite 'em. Bite yur arms. 'Specially when yah get home fr'm work, sweatin' an' bulgin' an' I can see all yur veins an' yur tired, voice rough, gettin' short wit me. Hnnngh. F'ck--"

As he drones on, Bucky's own face starts to get hot, first blushing pink and then deepening to a red as if he's spread himself out on the beach to let the sun cook him.

He can't look at Steve.

He feels like he shouldn't look at Steve, like he's a fucking pervert, peeping on Steve's most private, out-of-his-mind dreams despite how he's, literally, seen Steve in every state. He's Steve's fella, his best friend, it's fine if he listens to him talk like that, it's just...

He ain't got no inhibitions like this. His illness has lowered him all the way to the ground, lying on his belly, drooling into the dirt, drawing filthy pictures with a wobbling, unsteady fingertip while flaming hearts circle in his eyes. Drunk on it. And, fucking Christ, does it sound good.

Over on the couch, where Bucky's averted his gaze carefully, looking down at his own lap and the tent not rising in his trousers, Steve tumbles on, lazy and slow, all Brooklyn drawl. His words drip with honey.

"--Gonna eat, eat 'em, gonna, Jesus, Mary, fuh-fuck, you're so haaan'some, Buck. Smell s'good, too. Wanna faint when I smell yur aftershave on yur shirt but, also, also, wanna die--I wanna die, I luv it sooo much when ya don't shave for 'a day an' yur stubble, mmmmngh, ngh, Buck, yur stubble scratches me an' I see heaven, I swear it, like 'm already dead. Like it, rough, hurts, like it on me. Against m' face 'til I'm blushin' red. I like it. Like you. Luv ya--"

Bucky can't.

He fucking can't.

He can't sit still. He can't not look at Steve, going on and on and on and on and on and on on and on and on and on and on and on on and on and on and on and on and on on and on and on and on and on and on on and on and on and on and on and on, his eyes shut, color vivid on his face like a sunset landscape painting--something beautiful like what Steve could make--lashes kissing the tops of his cheeks, sweat darkening his hair as it curls over his forehead.

God.

Bucky just barely sucks in a deep breath, forcing his way through it with his hands clenched into fists over his thighs. He, he doesn't know what to do.

He wants Steve to shut the fuck up. He wants to be quiet as he can, opening the space for Steve to fill, talking until his throat goes hoarse. He wants to touch himself through his pants. He needs to. He wants to jump Steve's fucking bones. He can't jump Steve's bones, he's sick, he's already got too much going on, Bucky can't expect him to get it up, Bucky can't burden him with more physicality. So, it's not fair.

He can't.

He can't touch himself and jerk one out to this. It wouldn't be right to anyhow because Steve doesn't even know what he's doing and Steve can't enjoy it right now.

So.

He's...

Teeth gritted in his mouth, he's gotta just sit here.

Listening.

Sweating.

Tortured.

"--luv, luv yur aftershave an' arms an', nngh, even yur pomade, Buck, shit, just gotta run m'hands through ya hair until it's on m'hands an' I, I, I... Buck. Yur hair hangs in your face an' my heart goes funny in m'chest. Stunner. Buck, yur a stunner. Whistling when ya shave an' comb yur hair and get ready for work an'... don't leave. Don't ever leave. Want you fer me. Mine. Mine t'bite. Bite yer arms. Yuh-yer neck. Can't go to th'docks if youu, if you're indecent."

Steve--phsycially weak, sick as hell, yet ever stubborn, even when he's out of his mind--has the gall to smirk. It's a lazy, sloppy smirk. And yet...

It still fucking works on Bucky.

Involuntarily, Bucky lets out a squeaky little whimper, his hips jerking forward. Oh, Jesus Christ, Steve keeps talking like that and Bucky might cum in his fuckin' pants.

Now, it's all he can do to keep his eyes open, keep his eyes on Steve, 'cause the pictures his little artist is painting in his mind are so much worse--getting pinned by Steve's boney frame up against their bathroom cabinets, back against the sink, head hitting the mirror, nerves all singing a deafening crescendo, uncomfortable and jumbled up in their tiny bathroom but not caring because Steve kisses like he does everything: daring and stubborn and with the force of fucking god behind him. Kissing the life out of him, kissing him until he can't breathe, kissing him with teeth, kissing him until he's marked with bruises that bloom red and blue and purple over his neck and chest and stomach and between his thighs. Bucky couldn't leave the apartment for days with those hickies littering his body, achy and possessive--they'd be as obvious as neon sign glaring in the dead of night, seducing sleazy men into gritty brothels, bars, and clubs alike.

And that's not even to meantion how, else, if he did step foot outside after such a loving tear into, he'd be wandering around in a shivery, raw-edged daze, stumbling, whimpering to himself with every drag of his starched, button-up shirt, cotton-soft undershirt, pressed slacks, or underwear against the teeth marks. He would be irresponsibly high off the knowledge of being owned, pleasure knocking him onto his ass. He'd be treated so good, he'd be too indecent to go in public, he'd be... be...

Owned.

Trembling, Bucky swallows thickly, pushing down a moan as he conversely pumps himself up, he can do it, he can wait a few more days for Steve to recover from getting sick, he can, he will, he has to. He'll get Steve better, taking care of him the best he can, and then he'll beg Steve to take care of him, too. He'll get on his knees. He'll stretch his neck out, arching it, the next time he shaves. He'll bend over the sink completely, presenting himself. He'll flex. He'll groan and beg, sweaty and overworked after an extra-long shift. He'll do anything. Anything. He wants to be owned.

"Mmmngh, Buckyyyy--"

[truecorvid]

(guy who is not responding to texts voice) damn why do i feel all alone in the world

[downtherabbitholewithlucy]

✨SAM WEARING HIS CAP TO THE BACK✨

(Sam's Beanies/old post)

[colourful-void]

🍎

🍎: what’s something you’ve learned while writing a fic

I end up learning a lot of minor trivia when I write because I’ll go to double check a character detail or location detail and then get absorbed in the wiki. In terms of non fandom specfic knowledge though… off hand?

The general layout of recording studios

A very short wiki summary of rap battling

What is Didactic Pentameter

Information on octopi capacity to dream

What alcohol pairs best with hot chocolate

Though when it comes to stuff I learned, I’ve done physical research myself a few times, including but not limited to making hot chocolate from scratch, touching grass, and running into a glass door.

(Send an emoji for writer ask game!)

[downfalldestiny]

Let the happiness in 🌅 !.

[cascadianights]

I ran out of tags

-riding 4 wheelers

-sandboarding

-read a book

-do some art

-kayak or canoe

-surfing

-gathering little mollusks and snails and crabs and putting them on your boogie board to watch crawl around

-catch or frisbee or volleyball

-Bob in the water and just exist

-snorkel

-kick sand up so little fish come and circle you

-find a sand bar to stand on way out in the water

-sand messages

-rolling down the dunes

-driving along to different beach outlets

Are you going to the wrong beach?!?!

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

warning: dubcon

Siren luring you into the water, using his webbed hands to play with your pussy as your hazy eyes gloss over. He continues to sing, keeping you placid as his pod circles you.

Your cunt is bred by multiple sirens, your mouth being used as their fucktoy as they coo and sing.

They think about devouring you, but can’t bring themselves to do it. You’re so fat and soft, the perfect host for their eggs! They wanna see your belly swell with their young… they’re attached now!

You’re sore and covered in bite marks by the end of it, left on an isolated part of the beach. And when you look down at your chubby belly, it’s distended and swollen, heavy with eggs.

And by the time you’re lucid again, all you can think of is the throbbing need in your cunt.

So you go back out that night, ready to be used all over again.

——————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @midromiell @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog

[writersdrug]

I fully believe that Simon "Ghost" Riley wouldn't want an expensive, lavish honeymoon after your wedding. Of course, if that's what you dream of, he'll do it for you. He'd do anything for the person who loved him enough to marry him, scars and all. You want a beach-front, warm getaway in Costa Rica, filled with sunsets and quiet time by the waves? Say no more, he's looking for first class tickets already. You like the sound of a ski resort, surrounded by snowy alpines and hot chocolates, holding hands on the ski lifts and racing down the hills (you'd beat him every time, he's not one for winter sports)? He's asking if you'd prefer Smuggler's Notch in Vermont, or Vail Ski in Colorado. He'll do it if it's with you. He'll do anything for you.

But ask Simon what he wants, and he'll give you such a domestic answer: two or three weeks, somewhere in the United Kingdom, in a cottage backed up against the woods - preferably in autumn, when the leaves will be orange, the air will be misty, and the soft rain will be just enough to drown out his anxieties. Sure, he'd love to go hiking with you in Lake District, finding a good spot under the cover of the dense trees, listening to the sound of the babbling river and showing off his camping skills - harmlessly bickering with you about how it's not considered camping if you're in a cabin with electricity and running water. He rents an SUV and folds the seats down, throwing a mattress, blankets, and pillows in the back so the both of you can cuddle together while watching the stars.

But really, he just wants to exist with you for a while - as a married couple. He wants to wake up next to you without having anywhere to be at the ass crack of dawn, taking his time to watch the way you breathe so softly, the way you're always holding onto some part of him while you sleep, whether that's your arm wrapped around his bicep, your hand fisting his shirt, or your being wrapped tightly around his soul. He wants to cook meals with you, watch as you sway to whatever music you put on the telly, butt-bumping him as you chop vegetables and he stirs the pot on the stove. He wants to be next to you as you drag him around the rainy streets of Manchester, stepping into every bookstore or plant nursery you pass, eventually landing in a coffee shop and sitting close to each other, talking over a vanilla latte and a black coffee about how wainscoting is a gorgeous addition to homes, and how it's a crime that people tend to tear it down in modern decor. He promises to install some himself just for you, wherever you want it.

He wants to spend quiet nights at home, curled under the blanket on the couch, some random movie playing on the telly and the space heater blowing warm air on the both of you - he's too mesmerized at the way you're twirling the golden wedding band around your ring finger, biting back a smile every time you glance down at it (he has a wedding band too - but he'd never take it on missions. Instead, he has a simple line tattooed around his ring finger for when he has to leave the ring behind). He wants to make love to you, leaving soft kisses and nips along your skin, rolling his hips into you slowly and sensually, losing himself in the quiet moans, whispered I love you's, and the feeling of your nails carving the memory into the skin of his back. He wants to rest with himself inside of you, cradling you to his chest as he mumbles sleepily, "I love you, want to marry you every day of my life..." his rough hand tracing your skin, committing every bump, every curve, every vein to his memory. He wants to fall asleep there, letting go of his anxieties, any thoughts of doubt rolling off of his shoulders when he presses kisses to the back of your neck, his fingers slowly fiddling with the ring on your finger.

You're his quiet. His peace. You're soft sweaters, the sugar cube he drops into a warm mug of tea in his hands, the raindrops gently landing on his face, the smell of earth and pine at the edge of the woods, the sound of wood crackling in a warm fire. You're gentle, even when you're excited and bouncy, smothering him in kisses or forcing him to dance with you on the back patio. He knows you'll both have to leave this solace soon, returning to work like the wedding had never happened, forced to be cogs in the machine of society. But to Simon, each day after this will be a day he's married to you - each day will be a blessing, a reason to thank the universe, a reason to smile as he crosses the threshold of your shared home, a reason to crack his dad jokes outside of missions, a reason to join you on your weekly grocery runs, a reason to buy flowers once a week to replace the previous ones.

You're his peace.

[crushpunky]

drew’s lockscreen of actress!reader

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

this is something a bit new— a sort of social media au / short fic based off an ask. let me know what you guys think <3

Though the video was a bit blurry and quick, the girl on Drew’s lockscreen was undoubtedly y/n. Wearing one of Drew’s button downs, her hair swept back by the wind and a smile on her face, y/n struck a pose on the beach. Behind her, the sun met the ocean, casting golden light that kissed y/n’s skin and bathed her in an ethereal light. The photo and memory was one of Drew’s favorites, and each time he opened his phone he was reminded of it.

He had just gotten back home to Charleston to prepare to shoot Outer Banks following his time away while filming Queer in Italy. Any amount of worry or stress that loomed over him about his hectic filming schedule quickly evaporated when y/n picked him up from the airport, her dazzling smile wide and voice like music to his ears. The two of them spent the rest of the day making up for “lost time”, the couple mostly sticking to the confines of their bedroom until they finally decided to take a break and make the trek down to the beach to watch the sunset.

The sun was hanging low over the Carolina landscape, the only sounds the lull of the ocean and the swaying of the trees in the breeze.

“Didn’t realize how much I missed these beaches.” Drew said with a sigh, looking down at y/n with a grin. The two of them walked through the sand hand in hand, swinging their hands between the two of them rhythmically as they approached the water.

“The beach you took me to when I visited was pretty nice.” Y/n said with a smirk, raising her eyebrows up at Drew playfully. One of the times y/n had come to see Drew when he was filming, he had surprised her with a day at the beach. The only problem was, Drew hadn’t researched quite thoroughly enough, and the two of them ended up hiking to a nude beach. Flustered and fearful of the prying eyes of fans or the paparazzi, the two of them had to hike all the way back to town with their unused beach gear. Instead, they opted to spend the rest of the afternoon exploring the city hand in hand. Even if the day hadn’t gone quite how they expected, they got to spend it together and that was all they really wanted.

“Haha, very funny.” Drew rolled his eyes playfully, pulling the beach towel out from under his arm and laying it down in a spot near the surf. Smoothing it out, Drew sat down before offering a hand up to y/n. With a giggle, y/n took his hand before sitting down next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. Drew’s arm snaked around her waist, pulling her flush against his side.

“These sunsets weren’t quite as fun to watch without you.” Y/n said quietly, peering up at Drew. He looked down at her with a grin, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose before burying his face into her hair. Y/n could hear the steady thrum of Drew’s heart in her ear, his fingers tracing gently along her back in a way that made her cheeks warm.

“I’m happy to be back.” Drew whispered into y/n’s hair. The two of them sat in silence, basking in each other's presence, as the sun drew closer and closer to the horizon. Suddenly, an idea popped into Drew’s mind, his hand reaching into his pocket for his phone.

“Get up real quick. I wanna do something.” Drew smiled, climbing to his feet. Once more, he offered his hand out to y/n, who took it gratefully as she rose to stand next to him. Drew stood still, his eyes locked on y/n and a cheesy grin on his face.

“What?” Y/n chuckled, placing her hands on her hips as she faced Drew. With a gentle touch, Drew shifted her over to stand with her back to the surf, the setting sun illuminating her and the beach in an orange glow. Without another word and a lovestruck grin still on his face, Drew picked up his phone and pointed the camera towards y/n.

“Strike a pose for me, baby.” Drew grinned. Y/n smiled for the photo, not moving from her position.

“C’mon… please?” Drew said sweetly, his grin apparent in his tone. With a groan and a playful roll of her eyes, y/n popped her hip out in an exaggerated pose that caused Drew to let out a chuckle as he snapped a photo. Looking closely at the photo, Drew could feel his heart swell. Y/n looked so positively radiant, so positively y/n, the personality and beauty Drew fell in love with, all captured in just a single frame.

“Are you done?” Y/n asked, tearing Drew’s eyes away from his phone. He nodded before looking back down at the photo with a grin.

“Lemme see.” Y/n teased, coming towards Drew and raising up onto her tiptoes to peer at his phone.

“I think this is the best photo I’ve ever seen.” Drew whispered, causing y/n to giggle as she looked up at him. Quickly swiping through his settings, Drew set the photo as his lock screen. Turning his phone off, he turned it back on to display his new lock screen. The two of them laughed lightly before Drew put the phone back in his pocket.

“My little model.” Drew said, pressing a kiss to y/n’s cheek before lifting her in his arms. She let out a giggle, perhaps Drew’s favorite sound, as he spun her in the golden light of the beach. With a sigh, Drew sat her feet back down into the sand, his hands still wrapped firmly around her waist as he stared at her intently.

Despite being firmly on the ground again, y/n swore her head was still spinning because of the way Drew was looking at her: his eyes so wide, scanning over every inch of her, the icy blue bathed in a golden glow from the sun. Y/n reached up, wrapping her arms around Drew’s neck and smiling up at him. Slowly, Drew leaned in and pressed his lips to her own, his familiar taste caused her smile to widen. Curling her fingers into his hair, y/n pulled him even closer, savoring the beautiful moment the two of them were sharing… and wouldn’t soon forget thanks to Drew’s new lock screen.

[xneens]

just a friend

he’s just a friend … but.

He’s just a friend, but he sleeps over almost every night. Whether you’re begging him to stay the night because you need a pillow or angry with him for insulting your friends, he’s there on your bed, substituting as a body pillow. No matter what position you fall asleep in, you always wake up draped across his chest, face nuzzled against the crook of his neck.

He’s just a friend, but he spoils you constantly. He gifts you a diamond tennis bracelet when your cat dies, hoping to cheer you up. He buys a convertible when you finally get your driver’s license, grinning when he sees your gleeful face. He showers you with your favorite flowers when get into your dream college. He buys whatever you look at when you take him shopping, repaying him with a kiss on the cheek, and it’s enough for him.

He’s just a friend, but you’re his only soft spot. Everyone else walks on eggshells around him, worried about being in his warpath. Even his own family wasn’t an exception to his hostility, especially after he stopped trying to win his dad’s approval. He does everything you want him to because why wouldn’t he? Hold your bag? No problem. Pick you up from a party? His pleasure. Stop being a rich, egotistical asshole? For you and you only.

He’s just a friend, but he’s your date to every formal and informal function. It’s just easier that way, you both explain to your friends. Midsummer’s preparation goes smoother when you already have a date, someone who will dance with you without complaint, someone who’ll make fun of whatever headpiece Rose is wearing, and someone who’ll sneak out early to drive their dad’s boat to another island.

He’s just a friend, but he knows everything about you. He comes with you to the doctor, dentist, and gyno visits for moral support, sometimes going in the room when needed. You had brought up being codependent but he quickly waves it off. He’s stocked a drawer in his bathroom with tampons and pads, and a few bottles of Tylenol in case you get your period on the nights you stay at Tanneyhill. He carries a cooler filled with water in his car because he knows you hate the intense heat. He wears an extra pair of sunglasses tucked in his shirt for you when you both go to the beach because you always manage to forget yours.

He’s just a friend, but his family thinks you’re dating. Sarah keeps asking you if you are, hoping to drag the truth out. You tell your friend no, laughing at the thought. Ward sits him down to talk after catching him admiring you during breakfast. He stays silent. Rose questions you about what she should give Rafe for his birthday, thinking the same as her husband. You laugh again at the thought, not noticing the way his jaw clenches when you make fun of the idea.

He’s just a friend, but he hates it when guys flirt with you. You’re too pretty to be entertaining guys who are far below you. He strains a muscle from resisting the temptation to punch the man standing too close to you, bicep veins popping out from the resistance. He drags you away when the guy tries to cage you against the wall, making up an excuse, needing help with containing a drunk Wheezie.

He’s just a friend, but he can’t go a minute without thinking about you. When life separates you, despite Rafe’s plans to be at your side twenty-four-seven, he texts you. He ignores Topper and Kelce’s snickers as he pulls his phone out during a round of golf, taking a picture of the sunset to send to you. His friends’ teasing is worth it when you text him back, telling him how much you like his improving photography skills.

He’s just a friend, but he can’t fight the urge to attack the guy kissing you. He blacks out, rage consuming every cell in his body as he breaks the man’s nose and grasps his throat until his hands leave bruises. His brain doesn’t focus until you’re back in his line of sight, blue eyes meeting yours. Despite the man coughing on the ground, surrounded by concerned partygoers, you pay no attention to the injured, instead, pulling Rafe away before yelling at him in his room.

He’s just a friend, but he’s at your door with flowers, apologizing. He stammers out an apology because he was never good at them, and never had the maturity to admit he was wrong and beg for forgiveness. When you stare at him with a blank look, he gets desperate, taking your hands in his and slowly dropping to his knees, eyes pleading with you. He promises to never get that violent again, and you believe him because Rafe Cameron could never lie to you.

He’s just a friend, but he kisses your forehead every night after you fall asleep, waiting for you to doze off before doing so. He presses his lips to your head, warmth in his heart as it yearns for yours.

He’s just a friend, but he wants to be more.

[okwonyo]

BEWITCHED, 或──── how the first kiss went.

❛ 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖾.

1THOU 𓈒𓈒 日语 ⠀ ╱ fem!rea ⌕ fluff non idol au ──dis. skinship kissing と ⠀ ( 𝑜𝑜𝑒𝑢𝑣𝑟𝑒𝑠 )

지아 ⠀⦂ ⠀hihihihihi >< i missed u guys 🎀 repost because i forgot to add jw’s part TT

reblogs ˊᗜˋ +feedbacks · C𝑙𝑖CK

HEESEUNG

the popular belief would assume that a first kiss with him would go smoothly, that he would just lean whenever he feels like it.

but it is not, there is no world where it goes like that. in fact, he did think about it during the entire date— even since he laid his eyes on you. unfortunately, he is too shy to act on his thoughts.

because of this, his only way to say goodbye to you is by doing a very elaborate handshake and holding your hand for two solid minutes.

thankfully for him, you are the epitome of his dream girl: and his dream girl knows how to read his mind.

“if you want to kiss me,” you tell him, the moonlight kissing the surface of your skin. his gaz brushes your face like a brush on a canva. you step closer to him, lips brushing his, “you just can say so.”

he moves like he is hypnotized, his body moving yo meet your lips halfway. he pecks you once and can’t get enough— his hands cup your cheeks and he doesn’t leave you alone for a while.

⠀ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ﹙ᵕ ᵕ⠀look under the cut ! ♡

JAY

his look is heavy and soft on your face.

pressing the right place at the right moment— he makes it obvious but not enough to disturb you in what you are saying.

he waits until you stumble over your words. he looks at you, ready to take your breath away, eyes narrowed until you stop in the middle of your sentence.

“w—what?” you ask, barely able to breathe already.

he presses his lips together, debating whether he should play dumb or stop playing with you. tonight, he chooses to be nice:

in a sigh, he tells you, “i really want to kiss you is all.” he leans in, until his nose brushes yours and his breath brushes your lips as he says, “can i?”

everything just falls in place like water in a river. your hands travel each other, your lips fit well, the world fades away.

JAKE

on a cool yet warm summer night, you both walk hand in hand on the beach.

the sound of the waves creates a soft melody with the echo of your laughter. the sand melts under your feet and his shoulder keeps bumping into yours.

suddenly, you stop walking, “look,” you tell him, pointing at the sunset that he only admires through the reflection in your eyes.

inside of doing as he was told, he only looks at you, for a while— he admires the way the wind can easily touch your hair and he talks before he can think, “can i kiss you?”

you giggle, out of nervousness or because you are making fun of him, he isn’t sure. but you tell him something that soothes his heart: “yes.”

he leans in, planting a quick kiss on your lips. he pulls away, all red in the face before giggle and turning his face to the other side.

SUNGHOON

you drive him crazy— you make him feel in a way that no one has ever made him feel before. and that, sends him into an entire spiral.

whenever his eyes lock with yours, his hands get wet, his throat gets dry and his soul cries for you like a lamb cries for water.

his body is overwhelmed by the need of diving in, to capture your lips with his and never pull away— unfortunately for him, it reflects in his eyes just well.

he flinches at the smallest movement of yours, when you are suddenly too close like right now. where he stands right in front of you as your back faces your apartment’s building.

his eyes don’t leave yours as you put your hand on his shoulder and get on your tiptoes. for a moment, your lips connect and before he can even realize it. it’s over.

he mourns this moment as soon as you turn on your heels to get in. leaving him here, shocked and flushed.

SUNOO

a first kiss with him would be perfect — simply magical.

there isn't any words needed, or any right time. it comes naturally, as if it was the way were planned out to be since the beginning.

it comes like the spring wind at the end of winter— during a movie night at his.

of course, during a kiss scene, he isn’t able to not look at you and you are driven by the law of attraction to the same.

as the screen in front of you show two people sharing a kiss, you both lean in forward, aiming for each other’s lips.

it’s soft and refreshing, like peaches.

JUNGWON

it comes to him instinctively.

to be completely honest; first, it would come in a vision and he feels the need to fulfill the prophecy a few seconds after.

you have been going on and on about how you are not jealous. about how you know he is not your boyfriend (which hurts him!) and that it is not even a big deal.

your mouth has been blabbing about how this girl flirting with him while you were right next to him is just weird! and he needs a way to shut you up.

and he also needs to kiss you— he doesn’t think, his body just moves on his own.

the taste of you is too sweet, he ends up being the one who lacks words as you look at him with big eyes.

RIKI

it happens just like in the shojo you love to watch, like the manhwa you read, like the korean dramas you love so much.

you have been dating for three months, and farest you went when it comes to intimacy is hand holding— he can barely hug you for more than three seconds without becoming burning hot.

but, ever since his friend jokes about him not having his first kiss yet, he has decided to make it happen.

so, he finds himself sitting on his knees in front of you, who sits cross legged. he closes his eyes and leans towards you, shaking a tad and blushing a lot.

you are as nervous but you can’t help but giggle against his lips when he give you a tiny peck.

he ends up falling on his back with his hands covering his face

ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open

[iz-belljolie]

FRATBOY!ART who tried coke at a party and became obsessed (cough cough addicted) and started doing it at every party. And when he’s with a girl he loves to snort lines off her body, and let her snort lines off his.

FRATBOY!ART who’s favorite alcohol to drink is tequila, it makes him get the most drunk, giggly, and energetic, but by the end of the night he’s throwing up and blacking out and wakes up with the wort hangover.

FRATBOY!ART who loves casual hook ups, he doesn’t give a fuck about who you are, what you look like, he just wants to get off, and of course grt you off cause he’s a gentleman in bed.

FRATBOY!ART who smokes so much weed his eyes don’t get red anymore so you can never tell if he’s high

FRATBOY!ART who kissed a guy once at a party and got scared for liking it so much so he left and cried in his dorm.

FRATBOY!ART who once got up on a table at a party and screamed “if your not a brother or getting with a brother get the fuck out!” And then fell while trying to get down.

FRATBOY!ART who is a switch in bed depending on his mood. If he’s happy drunk then he’ll dom, put your legs over his shoulders and pound into you with his only goal being to cum. And when you guys are done he’ll kiss you like he loves you, and then he leaves like nothing happened. Or if he’s sad drunk then he’ll eat you out just so you praise him, then he’ll let you ride and use him, and when you guys are done he’ll ask for cuddles.

FRATBOY!ART who actually really likes having deep convos at party’s, especially when he’s high off something. He’s always his most open under the influence

FRATBOY!ART who seems like he’s friends with everybody but he actually hates everyone and only has like three genuine friends.

FRATBOY!ART who loves beach parties. Showing up in his bathing suit, drinking some disgusting punch someone made as he watched the sunset go down. Then going into the water while he feels all tipsy and floaty. He collects seashells and brings them back to his dorm and stores them in his nightstand.

[adore-laur]

Omgg I would love to see different times dadrry gets protective !! Like I can so see him being one of those dads that set boundaries the first time the baby is being introduced to family. He’d be like “no kissing on the face, no taking her away from mom without asking her first and wash your hands before holding her” etc etc. Or him getting defensive when people start to pity him when they find out he’s having a third girl and he gets annoyed and defends his girls 😭😭

Also ofc need to say your dadrry series is the best thing ever I still have tumblr solely to read your writing ☺️☺️

PROTECTOR

——

Pacific loons wailed hauntingly near the shoreline as you sat in the patio's swing chair, listening to the sundry sounds of nature. The oceanic view was a calm presence, one that often lulled you into a hypnotic trance with the endless ebb of waves and the horizon's dying light. Above the railing, brass wind chimes produced a plinking melody in the wind. The atmosphere of home engulfed you like a warm hug.

It was a moment of serenity while Harry went on a grocery run with the girls. He had offered to take the after work, and it was sweet of him to give you time to decompress after parenting alone all day. Plus, it got them out of the house. You would usually be able to take them somewhere for fresh air and fun sights to see, but pregnancy fatigue prevented any hopes of traveling past the front door.

A month had elapsed since you surprised Harry with the news of a third baby. Two weeks since you both had found out it was a girl. In that time, life had coasted by blissfully between the routine of working part-time, daycare drop-off and pick-up, and bonding with your little family over the weekend.

As much as you cherished the hustle and bustle, it was necessary to prioritize personal time. Sometimes it came in the form of sinking into a hot bath, venturing to the beach with a novel, or catching up on much-needed sleep. Today, it consisted of feeling the breeze pass through your hair and appreciating the beauty of southern California.

It would be easy to fall asleep out here. The crashing waves, birdsong, and rustling trees were a lullaby. But you knew the moment you closed your eyes, you would miss the last streaks of the sunset, with its delicate wisps and golden clouds. So you shifted slightly to wake your limbs that were becoming jelly-like, and as you did, the blanket previously draped across your collarbones pooled into your lap. You stared down at it, smiling. The bedroom's storage ottoman held approximately a dozen different blankets, all with some sort of sentimental value attached to them. The crocheted quilt your first daughter had come home from the hospital with; the heated one with Mom embroidered on it; the oversized fleece one Harry liked to specifically use for cuddling either you or his girls.

The one you had chosen for your peaceful patio time was a ragged, faded patchwork quilt that Harry had kept (possibly stole) from the walk-up apartment you lived in together nearly eight years ago. It had watched your love for him grow beyond your wildest dreams. Had seen moments of rib-aching laughter, frustrated tears, pain and passion, and a commitment that would always withstand rough waters. Neither of you had wanted to part with that blanket, so now it stayed in a special place in the home that had once been a far-fetched fantasy.

As your fingers plucked loose threads from the fabric, you felt your phone vibrate with an incoming call. It was hidden somewhere under the thick blanket, and after a moment of searching, you picked it up and looked at the screen. It was Harry, made evident by his contact photo—a family picture on the Temescal Canyon Trail, your youngest strapped to your chest in a carrier and Harry carrying your oldest on his shoulders. A generous elderly couple had offered to take it, with the stunning backdrop of the expansive coastline. You especially loved the picture because it showed off Harry's legs in his athletic shorts, all long and tanned.

"Hey," you answered, assuming he was calling from the grocery store. He often did with ideas for meals or questions about kiddie snacks. Sometimes he'd ask what desserts you were craving, and then he'd spoil you by bringing home more than you could even fathom eating.

"Hi, baby," he said, sounding winded. "Can you unlock the door for me? Both girls are out like a light in my arms."

"Oh!" you said, not expecting him back so soon. Nature's hypnosis made you lose track of time. "Okay, I'll be right there."

"Thank you. I'd hang up, but my phone is balancing rather precariously on my shoulder."

You laughed and hung up for him, then untangled yourself from the cozy confines of the swing chair before heading inside. You were careful to hop over the dolls and picture books and blocks scattered across the living room carpet.

When you reached the front door and opened it slowly, your heart melted. Harry stood there holding one daughter on each hip, their little bodies slumped against him as they slept. You could tell your youngest was in a deep sleep. Your eldest, though, was definitely pretending so she could be carried inside like a princess. The sunset's pink light peeked into the garage and softened Harry's handsome features ethereally. Who else could look this good after grocery shopping?

"We're home," he whispered, and those two simple words filled your heart with an unspeakable amount of happiness.

"I'll help put stuff away," you replied quietly, taking his phone to relieve him from his uncomfortable position. "You go tuck the girls in." It was nearing their bedtime anyway, so better to take advantage of a smooth transition.

Harry smiled with that attentive look on his face, then bent to tenderly kiss the sweet spot on your neck. "You're glowing," he murmured in your ear, then walked past you, leaving your cheeks flushing like a besotted teenager.

Once the groceries were put away and the kids were down for the night, you and Harry went to relax in the bedroom. The sky was now devoid of color with stars twinkling faintly, and the full moon spilled its light through the bay window.

You were already in your pajamas, collapsing onto the comforter, when Harry asked, "How was your day?" He shut the closet light off, dressed in just a T-shirt and black boxers. There were those legs again, the lean muscles a feast for your eyes.

"Mellow," you said. "We stayed inside mostly. Morning sickness has been kicking my ass."

"Good thing you didn't have to work today."

You nodded. That was the nice part about working part-time and partially from home—it allowed for the freedom to be with the kids more often. You didn't mind taking them to daycare, especially since it was imperative for socialization, but it lessened your anxiety when you had them under your supervision. It was a suitable balance.

"Did everyone behave at the store?" you asked, sliding your socks off under the sheets.

"Yeah. No tantrums." Harry raised his eyebrows proudly, and you both shared an air-five. "They seemed knackered. Slept all the way home."

"I tried my best to tire them out."

"Well, you succeeded," he said appreciatively, then joined you in bed, stretching his limbs. You were so thankful for his diligence. To work ten hours and then parent to take some responsibility off your plate was admired more than you could ever put into words.

Harry reached his hand over to the nightstand to resume the book he'd been engrossed in recently but paused and turned to you instead. "Can I gossip with you?" he asked.

You quirked your brows. "What happened?"

He breathed deeply and stared into the distance. "So, I was in the cereal aisle, right?"

You laughed while cuddling up to him. "This is juicy so far."

"It's not even gossip, really," he said. "Just something that irked me."

"Please continue."

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and painted a picture of the scene. "I had the girls sitting in the shopping cart, and an old lady nearby started fawning over them. Which is fine, because they're adorable. Anyway, she started asking a bunch of questions. How old they are, what their personalities are like. Somehow I accidentally let it slip that we have a third one on the way, and I know we're telling our families next week, but I got caught up in the conversation and—"

"You're so bad at keeping secrets," you interrupted with a good-natured groan.

Harry kissed your forehead apologetically. "The worst. So, the lady had the audacity to act all surprised that I was going to be a father of three girls. Gave me a face like she pitied me. And then guess what she said..."

"I assume something mildly offensive," you replied.

"She goes, 'I bet you were hoping for a boy. To bring some balance to your home.'"

You scoffed and said, "More like chaos. What did she even mean by that?"

He shook his head, equally puzzled. "I don't know, but I just said, 'I'm very happy with my life,' then grabbed a box of Cocoa Puffs and went on with my day."

You frowned. "Why do some people think having daughters is such a burden?" It was mind-boggling. They had taught you so much and would continue to as they grew and spread their wings. It was your purpose to shape them into resilient, kind, and empathetic women. What a beautiful honor anyone would be lucky to experience.

"I'll never understand," Harry mused, locking eyes with you. "It's the most..." He trailed off with an emotional smile, and you stroked his cheek, letting him take his time. It wasn't often you or he could speak so rawly about the life you'd created together. "It's just the best feeling imaginable, you know? I can't describe it. All I know is that I wouldn't want it any other way."

You softly kissed him, feeling the sincerity of his words in the way he gracefully slipped his tongue past yours. With your palm still cradling his cheek, you halted his kisses using your thumb to say, "You're this family's heartbeat."

His lustful green eyes opened, his pupils dilating as if absorbing your admission. "If I'm the heartbeat, then you're the lungs."

"Sweet-talker," you teased.

"You started this love fest."

After a stretch of comfortable silence, Harry settled his hand on your small bump, a warm and knowing touch. "Please don't think I'm waiting on a son," he said.

You snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. I know more than anyone else how much you wanted daughters. You told me during our first date."

"I did?"

"We talked each other's ears off that night about our futures. The universe must have been listening." The conversation was burned into your brain. In that dim oceanside restaurant, you had known he was a keeper.

"Yeah," Harry whispered, kissing all over your stomach, leaving no skin unmarked by his gentle lips. He then rested his head in your lap. "I can't wait to meet her."

You hummed. "Have you ever thought about what she'll be like?"

"A combination of all four of us."

A ghost of a smile spread on your lips. "We're going to have our hands full then."

"I'm ready."

"I know you are," you said while playing with his hair. "That's why I chose you."

He was a protector, down to the fibers of his being. You didn't have to be in the room for him to remind the world of his devotion to being your husband. To being a father. He laid it all bare, and you could only hope that it would be passed down to your daughters like an heirloom blanket.

——

[i-love-you-just-the-same]

it's sunny and im smiling about it. 141 beach day...

ghost is lurking under an umbrella. had you put some sunscreen on his back to prevent him from frying like an egg. he's like a vampire for most the day until it starts to cool off. makes you come with him from where you're resting near him to walk along the shore. gives you some pretty shells, holds your hand "so you don't fall over from the waves." def doesn't get a picture of you and him in the sunset as his lock screen when you're gazing out into the deep blue.

soap and gaz are everywhere! they want to do everything. they play a game of volleyball together (they totally don't look over to see whether or not you're watching them) and get sweaty and gross. swim for a bit and try to catch some fish with their hands. soap definitely gets burnt and makes gaz go find some aloe for it. he asks you to rub it on his shoulders, sighing contently and kisses your temple as a thank you. gaz helps you identify the different little crabs and other critters running around the beach. points at cool birds and landmarks in the distance, smiling as you nod happily in reply. they both want to rent a jet ski next time.

price disappears for a good portion of the day. rents a surfboard and gives it a go for the first time in years. isn't bad, either, likes the water on his skin. when he shows back up for the picnic lunch, he smiles when you worry on him. "shouldn't disappear that long by yourself, price, it's not safe!" smiles and pats your head, what a kind little bird. he takes you out a bit in the water and lets you try to balance on the board. smiles when you're either a natural or fall ungracefully into the water. you both end up swimming around and looking for dolphins. price totally holds you in his arms for a bit to let you rest your body.

by the end of the day, you're all pretty tired. as soon as you fall into the backseat of price's truck, you're in the middle asleep on a shoulder. all the boys smile at you as price starts the truck. they need to take you out more.