#And I keep thinking.. I can’t wait to get to shelter. to get to home (writing)

[aslisjournal]

I miss writing 😢

[monstersholygrail]

When you first showed interest in your Cat Hybrid the shelter warned you that this particular cat was hostile and didn’t get along with most of the people at the shelter. You figured they were just being dramatic and all he needed was a kind and loving home but time quickly proved you wrong.

He stayed away from you most days, even taking his meal times separately from yours. And when you did try and get close, he’d hiss and swipe at you. Managing to get a few war wounds in whenever you tried to give him some affection.

You were beginning to feel defeated that you’d ever manage to build trust and love between the two of you. It was a shame too as you initially adopted the hybrid in order to have a companion by your side as you started your transition, finally biting the bullet and becoming the you you’ve always known you are inside.

But with how things have been going you were starting to lose hope that things would turn around. That is until three months after you started taking testosterone and everything began to change.

Now from what you read, you got the impression that a lot of Cat Hybrids were very sensitive to smell and had a distaste for strong orders. You figured that was just great and soon your companion would hate you even more. But instead of being put off by it, your Cat Hybrid seemed to crave it.

When before he wouldn’t go anywhere near you, now you can’t get rid of him. He follows you throughout the house wherever you go like he’s tracking your scent. He sits right outside when you go to the bathroom or have a door closed, protecting you.

During meal times he patiently waits for you to serve yourself too before sitting at the table and sharing a meal with you. When you have to work overtime or don’t come home when you say you will, he calls and whines, bugging you into coming home sooner.

And instead of sitting on the opposite end of the couch he snuggles right up next to you, purring loudly as he rubs his cheek into your neck, mixing your scent with his. You giggle in response, leaning away from the tickling sensation only for the hybrid to lean even heavier into you.

“What has been up with you lately?” You ask playfully, the deepening rasp in your voice making the hybrid shiver.

“You just- you just smell so good,” he snarls, almost like he’s angry about it.

He pushes into you until you go tumbling down onto the couch with a crackling yelp. Before you can try to get up, he’s right there on top of you, straddling your lap and inhaling deeply. Your eyes widen, breath hitching as he starts grinding into your core.

“Do I?” You ask breathlessly, placing your hands on his hips and your Cat Hybrid mewls just as sensitive for you as you are him.

Angling his hips he slides his rock hard cock along your center. Even through the layers of clothes he can feel the heat radiating from where you need him most.

“Yessss. I need more,” he growls, a feral look passing over his face.

Before you can piece together what he means he starts kissing and sucking down your throat as if he’s tracking to see where your scent is the strongest as he always does. You gasp and arch into his mouth, your body aching for more. As he moves down your plush frame he removes every piece of clothing keeping you from him until you lay perfectly bare and so dashingly handsome it takes the hybrid’s breath away.

With another deep inhale his eyes snap toward your dripping hole, your slick all smeared against your thick thighs. Practically begging for his attention. He runs his fingers along your slit, spreading your folds and wrapping them around your throbbing little t-dick. You cry out, your body burning so hot and needy you might explode.

“Look at this fat boy pussy all needy for my touch. Absolutely soaked f’me, and all because your grumpy hybrid is finally giving you the attention you’ve craved. Are you that desperate?”

He doesn’t wait for you to answer and it’s a good thing too because you don’t think you could’ve even if you wanted to. You were far too turned on, gasping and moaning with every stroke of his fingers. Plus the answer would’ve been yes. After all these months of getting the cold shoulder from your companion, you were eager to soak up all their recent affection.

Before you could even blink the Cat Hybrid was pouncing on you, his rough tongue eagerly lapping up your sloppy hole like a man starved. His growls and your moans of pleasure pierce the air as he fucks you ruthlessly with his tongue.

Almost like you both have been waiting for this longer than either of you care to admit. You can’t get enough of it, your hips bucking into his eagerly mouth. His claws hands tighten around your wide waist and pin you against him, refusing you even a second of relief as his long tongue lashes itself inside you and along every nerve of your core.

You can only hold on for so long, not wanting this moment to end, before you’re exploding all over his tongue, your center throbbing with the force of your release. You feel his claws prick at your flesh as he marks you as his while he hisses and works you through your release.

Each swirl of his tongue sends you gushing with more of your essence, leaving a prickling sensation that only turns you on more and more. But you can see he’s happy to remain there and lick up whatever you give him as your scent increases tenfold, flooding his senses and filling him completely with you.

By the bliss on his and your face it seems as though you’re both liking what this new arrangement might bring.

[reinreingoawayy]

sae was super against the idea of having a pet cat. one, he thought they were mean, and two, he couldn’t stand the smell of their shit. so when he sees you holding a small black stray cat, both—you and the cat—drenched from the rain, he couldn’t help himself from shaking his head while he grabs towels for you and for the cat. he suggested bringing it to the animal shelter, which you disagreed right away as you tucked the poor cat into your arms as if he was going to snatch it from you and throw it to the nearest animal shelter.

he exhaled as he watch you give your full attention to the cat.

“so what are you gonna do about it now?” he asked.

“i don’t know—keep it?” you said, gently patting the towel on the cat’s body.

“but—”

“but i want to make sure you’re okay with it first,” you said.

“you know the answer,” he said with finality in his voice.

“can’t i change your mind? at all?”

sae looked away because he knows—he knows himself that he’d eventually give in to those pleading eyes. sae had always been this tough guy, but for some reason, the tough, hard to please, unchanging mind, becomes all too soft for you. it was almost like you had him in a spell that he couldn’t get through, not that he’d want to get through.

for him, what comes first is you. regardless of what he wants, it was always you first, and he was okay with it. seeing how your eyes would light up, the way you curl the corners of your lips when you’re happy was enough reason for him to put you first before anything else.

but having a pet cat was a different topic. he was very open about not wanting it. so, it was a challenge for you to persuade him. it only took a lot of pleases and promises and few bribes here and there before he finally exhaled with defeat. that was your cue that he was finally giving in.

“fine,” he said softly.

you beamed and almost jumped onto him for a hug.

“thank you!” you said again and again.

“but we must have conditions,” he said as you sat back to your seat, ready to listen to his conditions. there was a handful but you were more than willing to cooperate if that meant you could finally have a cat.

after bringing the cat to the veterinary clinic to make sure she was all good, you both went to a pet store to buy some stuff for the small cat. you were all giddy and excited as you survey each aisle, thinking and grabbing all the stuff you thought she might need while sae push the cart behind you.

“do you think this is excessive?” you asked sae.

he quickly shrugged his shoulders. “if you think it’s good for her, then go for it,” he replied, making your heart melt for a moment. you felt a warm fuzzy feeling in your chest that it almost made you tear up in front of the whole store.

after buying all the stuff, you went back home, played with the kitten while sae goes out for his usual football practice. if you don’t have work, you’d stay at home doing random stuff to fill up the boredom. he usually comes back before dinner time, if there’s intensive training, he comes back before midnight, and today is that day. when he comes back, it’s either you were already asleep or binge watching a series with your skincare on.

tonight, you decided to wait for him while you play with the kitten, but exhaustion came faster than sae and before you even know, you were knocked out on the couch with the ball of yarn on your hand. before you pass out, you could’ve sworn you heard the door unlocked but you drifted anyway.

sae sighed, watching you sound asleep on the couch. the blue ball of yarn was still on your hand and the small cat was laying beside you, perfectly loafed.

“hi there,” sae said, kneeling in front of you and the kitten. he felt stupid for greeting the animal, but when the kitten let out a small meow, he was taken aback.

“sorry if i acted that way earlier. truth is, i don’t really know how to take care of someone like you and i’m a little afraid that i might end up neglecting you, but don’t worry. your mom, right here…” he said, pointing at you, still sleeping.

“she’s gonna take good care of you and i will do my best to do my part as well. i’m sorry if i ever had you feel you were not welcome here. i just really don’t know what to react. it’s a me problem. you are definitely most welcome.”

he bit his lower lip as he tried to scratch the kitten’s back hesitantly, but when the kitten leaned on to his touch, he felt a slight relief.

“so how was your day with your mom? did you do anything fun?” he smiled.

“my practice was fine. it was tiring and almost felt redundant, but i love football so it’s fine. i hope you find what you love soon. i’d like to see it.”

“one last thing i have to tell, love your mom as much as i love her, okay? i hope you see how much of a wonderful person she is. she’s the best you could ever have,” he said before finally nudging your shoulders to wake you up.

“wake up, love,” he said in a very soft voice.

you hummed, pretending not to hear all of what he said just now.

“i love you, sae,” you whispered.

“you heard that, didn’t you?” he said.

“maybe?”

“i love you, too. now lemme get you to a proper bed.”

[bitchy-craft]

PICK A CARD: Song lyrics that describe your future relationship

Hello and welcome to this reading! Here I will give you song lyrics that describe your future relationship. I hope you enjoy this reading!

masterpost > paid readings > patreon masterlist

The extended version of this reading can be found on my patreon, the link of which is here the 18+ version is here

Pile 1:

“You’re still the one I run to, the one that I belong to / You’re still the one I want for life.” – Still the One – Shania Twain

“I’ve loved you for a thousand years / I’ll love you for a thousand more.” – A Thousand Years – Christina Perri

“I found a love, to carry more than just my secrets / To carry love, to carry children of our own.” – Perfect – Ed Sheeran

“I never thought I'd be in love with you / But I guess that it was meant to be.” – You and Me – Lifehouse

“You are the one, I will love forever / You are the one, I will never leave.” – I Will Always Love You – Whitney Houston

“And I can't help falling in love with you.” – Can't Help Falling in Love – Elvis Presley

“The more I think about it, the more I think about you / I just want to be with you.” – Everything – Michael Bublé

“You are my best friend, but I also love you / I love the way you look at me.” – I’m Yours – Jason Mraz

“When I look in your eyes, I see forever / And I know I don’t have to go anywhere.” – All of Me – John Legend

“I knew I loved you before I met you / I think I dreamed you into life.” – I Knew I Loved You – Savage Garden

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Pile 2:

“And I’ll be your friend / I’ll help you carry on / For it won’t be long / ‘Til I’m gonna need somebody to lean on.” – Lean on Me – Bill Withers

“When I fall in love, it will be forever / Or I’ll never fall in love.” – When I Fall in Love – Nat King Cole

“You’re the one that I want / You are the one I want / Ooh, ooh, ooh, honey.” – You're the One That I Want – John Travolta & Olivia Newton-John

“And I can’t help but wonder, how much you love me.” – I Can’t Help Falling in Love With You – Elvis Presley

“The way you look at me / The way you touch me / The way you love me / It feels so good.” – I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing – Aerosmith

“I’ll be your shelter / I’ll be your armor / I’ll be your strength / I’ll be your love.” – I’ll Be Your Shelter – Taylor Dayn

“No one ever loved me like you do, / Oh, you’re the only one I see / You’ve got to keep me by your side.” – Only One – The Chainsmokers

“I’ll be right here / I’ll be right here waiting for you.” – Right Here Waiting – Richard Marx

“You're my only reason, you're my only truth / I was born to love you.” – I Was Born to Love You – Queen

“I don’t need a lot of things / I can get by with nothing / But all I need is you.” – I Don’t Need Anything But You – From Annie

extended reading > 18+ version > paid readings

Pile 3:

“We don’t have to talk, it’s alright / Just be my woman tonight / We don’t have to talk, it’s alright / Just be my woman tonight.” – Let's Stay Together – Al Green

“Love is all around me, and so the feeling grows / It’s written on the wind, it’s everywhere I go.” – Love is All Around – Wet Wet Wet

“The harder I try to forget / The harder it gets / I will be here.” – I Will Be Here – Steven Curtis Chapman

“I’m sorry for the way I’ve been, I’ll make it right / I’m sorry for the times I haven’t been the one you need.” – Sorry – Beyoncé

“And if you’re feeling scared, you can take my hand / And we’ll fight through it together, you and me.” – Fighter – Christina Aguilera

“We fight, we laugh, we make up / We cry, we laugh, we fall apart / But we’re still standing here.” – You’re Still the One – Shania Twain

“There’s no place like home, you’re where I want to be / So don’t fight it, baby, just be with me.” – Home – Michael Bublé

“I’ll be the one to hold you tight / The one to make things right / After all the times we’ve tried.” – Make It Right – Backstreet Boys

“I’ll never give up on us / I’ll never give up on love.” – Never Give Up On Us – David Soul

“We’re not perfect, but we’re perfect for each other.” – Perfect – Pink

extended reading > 18+ version > paid readings

[gossamyrrh]

♯ 5 MINUTES ⋮ L. ACKERMAN

୨ৎ fluff, fem pronouns used when referring to reader | you and levi's nighttime routine . . . divider by @/toastray ⊹ ࣪ ˖

it begins as always:

levi comes home late. withered. drained of all his energy and then some, moving on auto-pilot throughout his flat like a poorly-oiled machine, having fallen victim, yet again, to the havoc of a long day at the office.

he toes off his loafers with some struggle. sluggishly removes his coat. shuffles to the master bedroom with an unfathomable amount of lethargy, that he cannot begin to understand how he managed to make it there without passing out—

(in this state, he can’t understand a thing at all.)

—but, somehow, he does.

and when he enters the meagre room, his heart skips a little to see you there, cocooned in your knitted blankets, a lone candle lit to keep you company, he suspects. though he is utterly weary—on the precipice of acute exhaustion, eyes rimmed with red and brimming with fatigue, he thinks, it is all worth it if you are there. 

a smile dusts upon his lips.

you say not a word. just watch him with eyelids half-drawn as he drags his feet past the threshold, creating a chorus of linen and cotton strumming, and proving that you, too, are a victim of a long, long  day.

you wait for him to collapse onto the bed, a stubborn spring corkscrewing into his spine, a small yelp escaping in reply, before you murmur: “how was your day, my love?”

he sighs, and it is shaky. crumbling. like the cavity of an old rock that has long eroded to morsels and flakes of grit. succumbed to the ever-moving passage of time. he wants to lie. more than anything, he wants to lie. tell you that everything went smoothly, that he finally has the upperhand—thinks he might get a promotion soon. but then he hears a rustle, and your fingers are carding through his hair—grazing along his scalp, lifting a weight from his shoulders that he is convinced only you have the power to do.

and then the truth comes spilling: “quite exhausting.” you gently run your nails against his skin. a hum slips through parted lips. “and i hate being away from you for so long. it makes me anxious.”

you smile bashfully, letting out a small huff as the apples of your cheeks swell. “well, it’s a good thing i’m here now, mr. ackerman. what would you ever do without me?”

nothing, levi thinks. less than nothing, even, if such a thing could exist. he turns onto his stomach, curls closer into you like a man seeking shelter, until his head rests in the crux of your lap. he stares for a moment, starry-eyed and awestruck and stunned at his sheer fortune of having you,  before he blinks. slowly. as if committing the scene to memory. “and how was your day, mrs. ackerman?”

your smile thins slightly.

“exhausting, too.” you absentmindedly twirl a lock of his hair now, deftly spinning the delicate thread of ink about your pretty fingers with a practised ease. the menial motions have begun to make his breaths slow, his eyes droop. but a new feeling is integrated. bliss, he thinks. this weariness is starkly different from before. soft, billowy. “but enough about me. is there anything i can do for you, my love?” he hums softly. shakes his head just the slightest. smiles faintly at your typical redirection. “just… stay. please?” 

you, of course, oblige. there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. 

like routine, it is another five minutes until you are blowing your candle out, and levi is cuddling you beneath the covers. the night, at last, grows quiet.

an. i love him so . . .

[emmiesoverthemoon]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ he’s so boyfriend: two

Pairings: choi seunghyun x reader / kwon jiyong x reader / kang daesung x reader

Word Count: 7,899

Summary: just cute little scenarios between u and each guy, the second edition! i got a little carried away this time,,, enjoy!!!

part one part three

pov: you get stuck in the rain without an umbrella

jiyong: cheesy cliché

The first cold droplets splatter against your skin, a slow drizzle turning into a full-on downpour as Jiyong tugs you by the wrist, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Come on," he grins, "what kind of lovers would we be if we didn’t have a dramatic rain moment?"

"You’re ridiculous," you laugh, half-heartedly resisting, but he's already dragging you into the open, past the overhang of the café where you’d been taking shelter. The rain hits instantly, cool and shocking, drenching through your clothes in seconds.

Jiyong doesn’t care. His arms spread out like he’s drinking in the sky itself, hair slicked to his forehead, his white shirt clinging to his frame, becoming slightly see through—which did not go unnoticed by you. He looks like he belongs in a movie—some reckless, lovestruck fool dancing in the middle of a storm, eyes twinkling as he turns to you.

You shake your head, exasperated but grinning. "You're actually crazy."

"And yet," he steps closer, looping his arms around your waist, "you love me."

You roll your eyes, but it’s true.

The world fades into soft, grey static, the rain a gentle rhythm on pavement, against your skin, the chill soaking through to your bones. Jiyong sways you, humming some old love song you don’t recognize, his laughter mixing with the music of the storm. He spins you once, then twice, and you go along with it, both of you slipping and sliding on wet pavement, giggling like idiots.

Then, he stops. Looks at you like you're the only thing worth seeing. His hands cup your face, fingers damp and chilled, but his lips—when he finally presses them against yours—are warm, sweet, lingering like he wants to stay in this moment forever.

It’s perfect.

At least, until reality smacks you both in the face.

Jiyong pulls back, blinking through the rain. “Wait—how are we getting home?”

Your eyes widen. “Oh my god, your car—”

The two of you whip around to stare at his sleek, very dry sports vehicle parked under the streetlamp. As if on cue, a fat droplet slides off the tip of your nose.

Jiyong curses. “We’re gonna soak the seats.”

You groan. “We should’ve thought this through.”

But then he’s laughing—loud, carefree, absolutely unapologetic—and you can’t help but join in. The two of you bolt for the car, jumping into the seats with a wet splat. Jiyong winces as he grips the wheel, his soaked clothes sticking to the leather.

You glance at him, half-scolding, half-amused. "You and your movie moments."

He flashes you a cheeky grin. “Worth it.”

And as the car fills with the scent of rain and the sound of your shared, breathless laughter, you think—yeah. Maybe it was.

daesung: the noble sacrifice

The afternoon rain had started softly, a gentle pitter-patter against the windows of the café. But the moment you and Daesung stepped outside, it was like the sky couldn’t hold back anymore. The downpour began, soaking everything in an instant, and you squealed, pulling your jacket closer around yourself.

Daesung, ever the charmer, paused and dramatically looked at you, his eyes widening. “You’re cold,” he stated, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yeah, no kidding, Daesung. It's raining cats and dogs out here,” you quipped, pulling your collar higher to shield yourself from the storm.

Without a second thought, Daesung grinned, took off his hoodie, and threw it over your head. "Here, wear this. It'll keep you warm!"

You blinked in surprise. "You’re giving me your hoodie?"

“Yes!” he said with such conviction, as if he had just solved all your problems. “It’s the most romantic thing I could do for you right now.” He puffed his chest out proudly, clearly thinking he had pulled off something dramatic and sweet.

You looked at him, blinking in confusion. “Daesung, it’s a little too big for me. I’m literally drowning in this thing…”

“Exactly! It’s cozy!” He smiled, oblivious to the fact that you were now swimming in fabric, practically a human tent.

“I can barely see through this thing,” you chuckled, your arms struggling to keep the oversized hoodie from dragging you down. But Daesung was so proud of his “romantic gesture” that you didn’t want to crush his excitement.

The rain continued to pour harder, soaking your hair, your shoes, and his hoodie, which was now weighed down with water. "Okay, Daesung, let’s be honest here," you said, laughing as you started to walk, “I’m pretty sure this wasn’t the most practical choice…”

He looked down at the way the hoodie dripped water and then back up at you with the most earnest expression on his face. “No… no it wasn’t.”

And then, like a lightbulb moment, he grinned widely. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not fun!”

With a mischievous glint in his eye, Daesung skipped into a nearby puddle, splashing water up to your knees. You gasped, stepping back. “Daesung!”

He threw his hands up in victory. “Splash fight, right now!”

You didn’t need another invitation. With a laugh, you jumped into the next puddle you saw, sending water flying in all directions. Daesung mirrored your moves, and soon, the two of you were splashing around like children, laughing at how ridiculous everything was.

“Who’s winning, huh?!” Daesung shouted between fits of laughter, his hoodie now thoroughly soaked and stuck to his body.

“You’re about to get drenched even more, Daesung!” you warned, trying to dodge his next splash.

“Not if I beat you to it!” He lunged, catching you by surprise with a gentle splash straight to your face.

You gasped dramatically, wiping your face, and then, grinning like a mischievous child, threw a full splash back at him. “Take that!”

By the time you both had thoroughly soaked each other, you could hardly keep up with the laughter, dripping wet and barely able to stand up straight from all the giggling.

“I swear,” you said between laughs, “this has to be the most ridiculous thing we’ve done.”

Daesung wiped water from his eyes, his cheeks flushed from the cold and the fun. “We’re pretty amazing, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, amazing,” you chuckled, now fully drenched but not caring one bit. “Just a bit impractical, though.”

“Well,” Daesung grinned, “the hoodie still looks cute on you. Even if it’s a bit too big.”

You nodded, still laughing. “That’s because I’m wearing your impractical hoodie, genius.”

He just smiled and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close despite the water soaking into both of you. “Worth it.”

seunghyun: nice and 'prepared'

The rain had caught you both off guard. You had barely made it out of the café before the skies opened up, and now you were both caught in a downpour with no umbrella in sight. You pulled your jacket closer to your body, shivering from the sudden chill.

Seunghyun, with his usual cool demeanor, looked over at you, eyes scanning the weather. Then, with a small sigh, he glanced at you with a sheepish smile. "I... may have left the umbrella in the car," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. "But hey, we’re here now."

You shot him a playful look. "Did you think this rain was going to hold off until we got back?" you teased, your voice full of amusement despite the situation.

Seunghyun raised an eyebrow, a sly grin forming on his lips. "Hey, I was the one who checked the forecast this morning, okay? You can't blame me for forgetting one small detail."

The two of you stood there for a moment, both laughing at the irony of it all. Without missing a beat, Seunghyun grabbed your hand and started to jog in the direction of the car. "Alright, let's just make a run for it. We'll beat the rain."

You both ran, your feet splashing through puddles as the water soaked you from head to toe. Seunghyun stayed close, but in that classic Seunghyun way, he was still trying to stay cool about it—one hand casually holding yours, the other wiping his wet hair out of his face.

Halfway to the car, you started to laugh, the situation completely ridiculous but somehow perfect. “I can't believe we’re doing this," you said, breathless from both the running and the laughter.

“I can’t believe I forgot the umbrella,” Seunghyun responded, his voice tinged with mock annoyance, but the playful glint in his eye told you everything. "But hey, look on the bright side. It’ll be a great story to tell later."

As you both reached the car, laughing and dripping wet, Seunghyun opened the door for you, then paused to look at your soaked state. “Well,” he said, running his fingers through his hair and smirking, “at least we’re in this together.”

You couldn't help but smile, the day’s misadventures only making him more endearing. "Next time," you said with a grin, "you better bring the umbrella."

“Deal,” he said with a wink, pulling you into the car. "Next time, we’ll be dry. Hopefully."

pov: locked in a small space

jiyong: seven minutes

You and Jiyong had somehow ended up stuck in a small, cramped pantry together. It wasn’t intentional, of course. Just a random series of events that had led to both of you being trapped in the tiny space, the door somehow locking behind you.

You leaned back against the only wall without shelving units, arms crossed, trying to make the best of the situation. "Well, this is... great," you said, laughing a little despite the light awkwardness. "Guess we’re stuck here for a bit."

Jiyong, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, the small, confined space seemed to only amuse him. He flashed that playful smirk of his, leaning in closer, and with a teasing glint in his eye, he gave you a seductive once-over.

"You know," he started, voice low and smooth, taking a step toward you, "this is like a movie 7 minutes in heaven situation, isn’t it?"

You couldn’t help but laugh at his sudden change in attitude. “Jiyong, really?”

He took a step closer, his body pressed against yours now, and he leaned in even more. "I mean," he said, his voice practically a whisper, "you know what I can do in 7 minutes?" His eyes glinted with mischief as his hands brushed lightly against the edge of your sleeve.

You froze for a second, a little caught off guard by how close he suddenly was. The small space made everything feel just a bit more intimate, and Jiyong’s teasing, flirtatious energy only amplified the tension.

“Stop it,” you said, trying to sound serious, though you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

Jiyong chuckled softly, his hands now flush to your waist, holding you against him. “What?” he asked innocently, though there was nothing innocent about the way his eyes were locked onto yours. “I’m just making the most of the situation.”

You shook your head, but an embarrassed smile tugged at the corner of your lips. "You really know how to make the best of being in a tight spot, huh?"

Jiyong grinned mischeviously, his lips just inches from yours now, his teasing energy completely undeniable. “Tight spots are my specialty.”

seunghyun: closeness is most comfortable

You and Seunghyun had been in a rush earlier that day, trying to get everything done before the storm hit. But now, here you were—stuck in an elevator, and it didn’t seem like it was going anywhere anytime soon. The storm raged outside, the rain hammering against the metal walls, but inside the elevator, it was just the two of you.

Seunghyun, as usual, didn’t seem phased by the situation. He gave you a smile that was part mischievous, part carefree, as if this was just another little hiccup in your day. And, to be fair, it was.

“Well, since we’re stuck, might as well get comfortable,” he said, his tone entirely too casual, and before you could even respond, he lowered himself to sit against the back wall of the elevator with a sigh of contentment. Without missing a beat, he pulled you into his lap, settling you there like it was the most normal thing in the world.

You blinked in surprise, but as always with Seunghyun, it didn’t take long to adjust. You were already used to his easy, affectionate nature, and the small space didn’t even faze him. He simply wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close with a lazy grin on his face.

“Seunghyun,” you started, trying to keep your voice serious, but it was hard when you could feel the warmth of his body, and he looked so comfortable already. “Is this really necessary?”

He shrugged as if it were the most logical thing. “Of course. We’re stuck in here. No point in standing around being all stiff and uncomfortable.” His hands casually rested on your waist, his fingers tapping a gentle rhythm against the fabric of your shirt. “I like being close to you anyway. Plus, I’m not going anywhere. Might as well make the best of it.”

You tried not to laugh, but the way he was acting so nonchalant about it made it impossible. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, rolling your eyes.

Seunghyun only chuckled, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face before letting his hand rest there. “I’m just making the most of our time together. No point in being grumpy when I get to hang out with my favorite person, right?”

You smiled, shaking your head at his antics. Of course, he would make something so normal feel like an adventure. But that was Seunghyun for you—easygoing and always making the best of everything, even a stuck elevator.

And before you knew it, the moment had become comfortable. You let yourself settle into his embrace, leaning your head on his shoulder as the sounds of the storm outside became a distant hum. “You’re right,” you said, your voice soft, “I guess this isn’t so bad after all.”

“See?” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, still holding you close. “Stuck in a small space with you, just the two of us? Could be worse. Plus, this is the best kind of company.”

And just like that, the storm outside seemed far away, and all that mattered was being there, in that small, quiet space with Seunghyun. It was something that had long since become normal for the two of you—the comfort of being close, no matter where you were.

daesung: an attempt of an icebreaker

You and Daesung had found yourselves trapped in the cramped supply closet after a series of unfortunate events. The door had somehow swung shut behind you, and now you were both stuck in the small space, with barely enough room to breathe, let alone move.

As you shifted, trying to make yourself a little more comfortable, you suddenly became acutely aware of how close Daesung was. His shoulder brushed against yours, and the proximity between you both seemed to magnify everything. The air felt heavier, and even the tiniest movements felt like they were echoing in the tiny room.

Daesung, usually so confident and easygoing, froze. His body went completely still, as though he was suddenly aware of every inch of space between you two, or rather, the lack of it. His eyes darted to the side, then quickly down, and then up again—clearly avoiding your gaze. A nervous smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he scratched the back of his neck.

“So...” Daesung mumbled, his voice suddenly much quieter than usual, a touch of awkwardness in his tone. “You come here often?”

You blinked, unsure if he was joking or genuinely trying to break the tension. His face was slightly flushed, and the nervous energy radiating from him was almost tangible. You couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh at how awkward his attempt to break the silence sounded.

Daesung immediately went redder, his eyes widening as he realized what he'd just said. “Wait, no! That—ugh, forget I said that.” He quickly flailed a hand in the air, clearly embarrassed by his choice of words.

You smirked, enjoying the rare moment of seeing him flustered. “Oh my god, Daesung. Really? 'You come here often'?" You teased, trying to keep your voice light. “That’s your icebreaker?”

He fidgeted, clearly not knowing how to recover from his awkwardness. "I—I mean, I don’t really have a backup line, okay? I was just trying to say something to—y'know—ease the tension." He chuckled nervously, his fingers still anxiously twitching as he tried to regain some composure.

You were absolutely charmed by how flustered he was. There was something so endearing about seeing Daesung, the confident and carefree guy everyone knew, suddenly so unsure of himself. “You’re so cute when you’re nervous,” you said, teasing him gently.

Daesung looked at you, eyes wide, as his face turned even redder. “Stop, I can’t take this,” he muttered, trying to hide his face in his hands, but the small space made it impossible for him to escape from the situation. His fingers rubbed the back of his neck in nervous habit, as if he could distract himself from how awkward it was. “This wasn’t part of the plan.”

"Well," you said, leaning a little closer, still amused by the situation, "you’re stuck with me now. You might as well make the best of it."

Daesung exhaled sharply, trying to seem nonchalant, but the way his eyes flicked down at your hand brushing against his arm gave him away. "Right... I guess I could get used to the whole... 'stuck in a closet' thing," he said with a sheepish grin, though he still couldn't seem to make eye contact.

You chuckled, the tension slowly fading as you both stood there, practically shoulder to shoulder, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body next to yours. The awkwardness was still lingering, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was... sweet. Daesung wasn’t perfect, and it was moments like this—vulnerable and unsure—that made him even more endearing.

"You know," you said with a playful grin, "you could have at least said, 'Nice weather we're having' if you really wanted to be awkward."

Daesung gave you a mock glare, but his smile was already returning. "You’re just full of great ideas, huh? I’ll keep that one in my back pocket next time."

You laughed softly. "Well, it’s always a good one for the next awkward situation."

For a moment, neither of you said anything, and the silence was comfortable now. You were close enough to feel the warmth from Daesung’s body, but the situation didn’t feel quite as claustrophobic anymore. The rain outside had picked up a little, and all you could hear was the soft pitter-patter on the windows.

“You still think we’re gonna get out of here soon?” Daesung asked, his voice quieter now, the playful edge replaced with a bit of genuine curiosity.

You smiled, brushing your hand against his arm gently. “Honestly, I have no idea. But if we’re stuck here longer... at least we’ve got each other, right?”

Daesung’s eyes softened at that, and for a moment, his usual carefree energy returned, the shy awkwardness melting away. “Yeah,” he said with a quiet smile, "at least we’ve got that."

And somehow, in that tiny, awkward space, everything felt just right.

pov: absentmindedly playing with hands or hair

seunghyun: perfect balance of collected and confident

Publicly, Seunghyun doesn’t even give the slightest indication that your touch is having any effect on him. On the outside, he’s the same calm, collected presence he always is—quiet, reserved, and effortlessly cool. But the moment your fingers slip into his hair, gently running through the strands, there’s a subtle shift. His jaw tightens for a fraction of a second, and his eyes soften, though he doesn’t dare to look at you fully. The corners of his mouth twitch just enough to show his enjoyment, but it’s so fleeting, most wouldn’t notice. He’s melting inside, completely at ease, as if the world around him has slowed to a halt. Your touch has this uncanny way of unwinding every bit of tension from his body. He feels a warmth spread through him that’s more soothing than anything else. He’s swooning, mentally, but there’s not a word spoken, no public display—just a quiet relaxation that only you can bring. In fact, he makes sure to keep his composure outwardly, so no one can ever guess just how much your simple touch is affecting him. His hand might twitch, ready to grab yours and pull you a little closer, but in the end, he just lets the moment pass, silently appreciating it.

But as soon as you're in private, everything changes. The calm and collected Seunghyun you know in public is nowhere to be found. Instead, he becomes a little more smug, a little more self-assured. He knows exactly what effect you have on him, and now it’s your turn to feel that same effect. He watches you with a teasing grin, leaning in just close enough that you can feel his breath on your skin. His eyes flicker down to where your hands are—already making their way to him, unable to resist touching him, even just for a moment. “Can’t keep your hands off me, hm, princess?” he says, his voice low and smooth, dripping with playful confidence. The words are casual, but the glint in his eyes tells a different story—one that says he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

Before you can even answer, he grabs your hand and lifts it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles with a flourish, like he’s making some grand gesture. “Are my hands that interesting?” he teases, the mischievous twinkle in his eyes growing.

You nod far too eagerly, your excitement spilling over, and Seunghyun’s grin only widens, enjoying the fact that he has this power over you. “A bit too excited, aren’t we?” he comments, amusement dancing on his features as he brings your hand back down. Then, with a soft but unmistakable shift, he pulls you closer by the waist, his arms settling around you possessively. “You’re so easy to read, you know that?” he adds, the teasing in his tone laced with something a little deeper—something soft, though wrapped in all the cocky confidence that makes him him.

His lips hover near your ear for just a moment, his breath warm against your skin. “But I don’t mind it,” he whispers, his smile turning a little softer. “I like knowing you’re mine.”

You can't help the way your heart flutters at his words, the warmth of his hands, and the complete shift from teasing to affection. He’s playful, but in moments like this, you can feel how completely he’s wrapped around you—and you around him, just as much.

daesung: return to sender

Publicly or privately, Daesung simply does not care—he is absolutely devoted to making sure you feel loved and appreciated at all times. It’s like a natural instinct for him, no matter where you are or who’s around. When it comes to you, there’s no such thing as too much affection, too many thoughtful gestures, or too many ways to show you how much he cherishes you. If you softly touch his hand, his first reaction is to kiss it. Not just a quick peck, but a tender, lingering kiss, as if he’s holding your hand for the first time all over again. He makes sure it’s clear that your touch is the most precious thing in the world to him. Then, after pulling away, he will massage your hand, gently rubbing each knuckle and the palm as if he’s trying to give you all the warmth and love he has to offer, a soft, soothing rhythm that mirrors the way his heart beats when you’re near.

If you fix his hair, Daesung is positively glowing with happiness. Instead of just saying thank you and leaving it at that, he wants to return the favor, and he does so in his own, playful, and sweet way. "Well, if you're fixing my hair, I guess it’s only fair that I try doing yours," he’ll say, his grin making his eyes sparkle. He’ll carefully take your hair between his fingers, running them through the strands with such tenderness it feels almost reverent. His fingers move gently, as though he’s trying to memorize the feeling of caring for you in this way. It’s a simple act, yet there’s so much love behind it, and you can feel the warmth of his affection in every delicate stroke. The moment is intimate, calming, and grounding—one where you can feel how much he treasures being this close to you.

And if you touch his arm, well, that’s when Daesung completely takes over. He doesn’t need to be asked twice. Without hesitation, he’s right behind you, his hands moving to your shoulders in an instant. His touch is light but strong, as his fingers knead the tension out of your muscles. He massages slowly, with so much care, making sure every inch of stress is melted away. You might have touched his arm, but now he’s the one caring for you, taking that moment to pamper you instead of being pampered. The way his hands move is almost instinctual—he’s so gentle, so considerate, it feels as if he’s giving you the world with just a simple massage. What was meant to be a brief act of tenderness towards him turns into a quiet, loving act of service from him to you.

Daesung isn’t just about the grand gestures; he knows that love is often shown through the small, everyday moments—these tiny, thoughtful acts that say everything without needing a word. And he makes sure you know, every single day, just how much you mean to him, through all the little things he does to make you feel cherished, adored, and completely cared for. To him, it’s the small moments that truly matter, the ones that prove just how deeply he loves you, because he knows that love is in the details.

jiyong: inked stories

Jiyong, always effortlessly calm and composed, never questions when you begin tracing over his hands or arms, just allowing you to do whatever you wish. It’s as if there’s an unspoken understanding between the two of you, a quiet rhythm that feels so natural. He finds solace in it, as if your touch grounds him in a way words never could. Every movement you make is met with patience and a soft smile, and he’s absolutely enchanted by the way you seem to get lost in these moments—tracing the lines of his palms, following the curves of his arms. It’s intimate in its simplicity, and it’s something he looks forward to without even realizing it.

What truly makes his heart swell, though, is when your fingers trace over his tattoos. He knows you adore them. He’s aware of how your eyes light up when your fingers skim the ink, the designs he’s carried with him through his journey. They’re more than just tattoos to him; they’re pieces of his past, each one telling a story. But seeing you trace them so reverently, with such love and appreciation, makes him feel something deeper—like those tattoos are even more meaningful because you’re the one noticing them, the one paying attention to these parts of him that aren’t immediately obvious. He treasures that you take the time to appreciate the things that define him, to make him feel seen in such a personal way.

“You always make my tattoos look so much better,” he says with a teasing grin, though there’s an underlying sincerity in his words. He catches your gaze as your fingers hover over one of the designs on his arm, a smile tugging at his lips. “I think you’re the only one who sees them the way I do.”

You glance up at him, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you continue tracing the intricate patterns. “I just think they’re beautiful. You’ve got stories etched on your skin, and I love hearing them without words.”

His heart skips a beat at that, and he watches you for a moment, his eyes softening. “I’ve got all these tattoos, but none of them mean as much as the way you look at them,” he admits quietly, his thumb brushing over your wrist.

When you’re satisfied, when you finally pull your hands away, Jiyong doesn’t rush. His fingers gently close around yours, his thumb softly running over the back of your hand, his touch warm and steady. He intertwines your fingers together without a second thought, his hand enveloping yours like it was always meant to be. There’s something tender, something almost reverent about the way he holds you, like he’s holding onto something precious. His eyes meet yours, soft and full of affection, the quiet intimacy between you both speaking volumes. He doesn’t need to say anything—he already knows. The connection is there, woven into the smallest gestures, the ones that speak the loudest, and he treasures every second of it.

pov: he walks in on you singing (you're amazing)

daesung: harmonies and vocal training

You’re mid-song, completely lost in the melody, when a second voice slips in seamlessly with yours. At first, you don’t think much of it—just an echo in your head, maybe a trick of the music. But then it grows stronger, harmonizing perfectly, the warmth of familiarity making your stomach flip.

You freeze.

Daesung.

Before you can react, he’s no longer just harmonizing—he’s belting at full power like he’s center stage at the biggest concert of his career. The walls practically vibrate with his voice, and you let out an involuntary yelp, startled out of your skin.

He yells back, louder, eyes wide, like he’s the one who’s been caught.

There’s a split second of stunned silence where you just stare at each other, and then, as if on cue, you both burst into laughter.

“I—Why did you scream?!” he wheezes, clutching his stomach, barely able to get the words out between giggles.

“Why did YOU scream?!” you shoot back, still trying to process the sheer volume of what just happened.

He grins, eyes crinkling at the corners as he takes a step closer. “Okay, but seriously,” he says, nudging you. “You’ve been hiding that voice from me? From me? I literally sing for a living, and you didn’t think to mention this?”

You groan, face heating. “It’s not like I was hiding it—”

Daesung cuts you off with a dramatic gasp. “So you mean you just forgot to tell me you’re secretly amazing? Wow. Betrayal.”

You shove him lightly, rolling your eyes, but he’s already launching into another playful over-the-top vocal run, still grinning ear to ear. Then, before you can protest, he throws an arm around you and sways dramatically, humming the melody you were just singing.

“You know,” he says, eyes twinkling with mischief, “I think I should become your vocal coach. We’ll train every day—warm-ups in the morning, practice in the afternoon. We can do duets! Matching stage outfits! A unit name! Oh, this is happening.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on,” he whines, giving you a gentle shake. “I’m Daesung! It’s literally my job to make people sing. And now that I know you have this secret talent, I have to help you unleash your full potential.”

“I don’t need to unleash anything—”

“Too late. You’ve been discovered.” He gasps again, eyes gleaming with fake betrayal. “Unless… unless you hate my singing! Oh no. That’s why you didn’t tell me, isn’t it? You’re tired of hearing my voice.”

You snort. “You are so dramatic.”

“I have to be. For the industry.” He puffs out his chest, then nudges you again. “So? When’s our first rehearsal?”

You sigh, shaking your head, but you can’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. “You’re impossible.”

"Tomorrow morning? Great! I'll see you in the morning baby!" He excitedly ran out of the room, causing you to laugh aloud—you live together you will see him as soon as you exit the room as well. Oh, Daesung.

seunghyun: totally starstruck

You don’t notice him at first.

You’re too lost in the song, letting the melody spill effortlessly from your lips, the way it wraps around the air like something tangible, something alive. It’s just you, your voice, and the quiet room—until the weight of a gaze suddenly makes you falter.

You glance up, startled, and there he is.

Seunghyun stands frozen in the doorway, eyes wide, lips parted slightly as if he had something to say but forgot how to speak. His entire posture—still, rigid, like he’s afraid to move—tells you everything before he even opens his mouth.

“…Do that again.”

His voice is hushed, reverent, but there’s an intensity beneath it, like this moment is something sacred.

You blink, suddenly self-conscious. “What?”

“Sing again.” He steps closer, slow and deliberate, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he moves too fast. “Please.”

You let out a flustered laugh, trying to shake off the weight of his stare. “Seunghyun, it’s really not—”

“It is,” he interrupts, shaking his head, still looking at you like he’s seeing something unreal. “Why aren’t you doing this as a career?”

You scoff, shifting awkwardly under his unwavering gaze. “Because I couldn't get up on stage in front of people! I got anxious when I found out only you were listening—”

“Ridiculous,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. “That’s ridiculous.” He exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair like he’s trying to process something huge. “You sound better than—” he hesitates, eyes flickering over your face as if searching for the right words. When he finds them, his voice is almost breathless. “Better than anyone I’ve ever heard. Ever.”

Your face warms under the intensity of his words, but he isn’t done.

Suddenly, he’s closer—so close that you barely register the moment his hands find yours, his grip firm but gentle, grounding. “Let me record you,” he says, almost pleading. “Sample your voice. Something. Anything.”

You laugh, flustered, shaking your head. “Seunghyun, no—”

He ignores your protest, his thumbs brushing lightly over your knuckles, his gaze still holding that same quiet, devastating awe. “I need to hear you like that again.” A pause. “Do you know what you just did to me?”

You swallow hard, unsure how to respond, because you’re the one who feels undone under the weight of his devotion.

To him, it’s like he’s falling in love all over again. And he has no intention of getting back up.

jiyong: your first fanboy

You’re lost in the music again, wrapped in your own little world, when you suddenly feel a presence behind you. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and instinctively, you turn—only to find Jiyong standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a smug grin plastered across his face. His eyes gleam with mischief, and you can already tell that he's about to make this moment so much more than it needs to be.

“You really didn’t think to tell me about this?” he teases, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “I mean, I knew you were talented, but this?” He shakes his head as if he’s genuinely offended. “I’m hurt, baby.”

You roll your eyes, chuckling nervously. “It’s not a big deal, Jiyong.”

“Not a big deal?” he scoffs, already pulling his phone out of his pocket. “You’re basically a superstar and you never even mentioned it? Unbelievable. Well, if you won’t tell me, I guess I’ll just have to do it for you.”

Before you can protest, he taps his phone screen and a playlist of your favorite songs starts playing. He uses his phone as a makeshift lightstick, dramatically waving it in the air as he steps forward, his smirk never leaving his face. “Alright, let’s do this properly,” he announces, as though he’s about to manage a full-scale performance.

You laugh, feeling completely exposed now, but Jiyong’s energy is infectious. He steps into the middle of the room, sets his phone down on a nearby table, and hits play on the next song. He starts dancing around you, pretending to be the most enthusiastic fan, fully immersing himself in the “show.” Every so often, he pulls exaggerated, overly dramatic dance moves—his “fanboy” act is too much, and you can’t help but giggle.

“You’re so cheesy,” you say, trying to hide your embarrassment, but also thoroughly entertained.

“You love it,” he grins, spinning you around like you're both part of some spontaneous duet. “You’re welcome. This is the kind of spotlight you deserve.”

As the song comes to a close, he steps back, using his phone to “judge” your performance like a panelist on some reality show. “And a perfect ten! Unbelievable! You’re incredible, but I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from me all this time,” he teases, dramatically wiping away a fake tear.

You roll your eyes, but your heart is full of affection. “I wasn’t hiding it, Jiyong. I just—”

“Nope!” he interrupts, cutting you off with a hand up. “You’re a star. And I knew it.” He pauses, narrowing his eyes in mock suspicion. “I think you were just trying to keep all the attention for yourself, huh?”

You can’t help but laugh at his theatrics. “You’re unbelievable.”

Jiyong just winks, sweeping you into his arms. “I’m just the best manager ever. Now, go on, show me the next song, superstar.”

pov: returning home after a tour and finding out you missed him

seunghyun: human charger

The second you opened the door, Seunghyun was standing there, looking composed as ever—hands in his pockets, head tilted slightly, that unreadable expression on his face. But his eyes. His eyes gave him away.

“You’re back,” you breathed, a little stunned even though you knew he was coming home today. It still felt surreal after all those weeks apart. “I missed you so much Seunghyun.”

For a fraction of a second, his lips twitched—like he was fighting back the urge to actually react. Then, with the smoothest, most indifferent tone, he said, “Oh? You missed me?” He let out a soft scoff, looking off to the side. “That’s funny. I didn’t even notice you weren't with me.”

Before you could even pretend to be offended, he had already closed the space between you, wrapping his arms around you tight. No hesitation, no delay. Like he had been holding himself back for far too long, and now that you were in front of him, he wasn’t wasting another second.

You melted into him, letting yourself be enveloped in his warmth, the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the weight of his chin resting on your shoulder. “Liar,” you murmured, smiling against the fabric of his jacket.

His arms only tightened around you in response.

It wasn’t until later that you noticed the real extent of how much he had actually missed you.

The next morning, when you asked about his schedule, he just shrugged, sitting comfortably on the couch with you wrapped up in his hold. “Cleared it,” he said simply, scrolling through his phone.

“…Cleared it?” You blinked. “Like—what do you mean, cleared it?”

“I mean exactly that.” He didn’t even look up. “No meetings. No interviews. No rehearsals. Nothing. I’m busy.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Busy doing what?”

At that, he finally glanced at you, expression unreadable for just a moment before he spoke, voice completely steady—like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Being here. Need to recharge. You're my charger,” His words were so matter-of-factly that you had no case if you were to deny what he said—you would be crazy to do that.

You stared at him, equal parts exasperated and endeared. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, you love me.” He smirked, looking entirely too pleased with himself as he tugged you closer.

You sighed, defeated, and let yourself melt into him. “Yeah,” you admitted. “I really do.”

He hummed, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your temple. “Good. Because I’m not letting you out of my sight for a while.”

And sure enough, for the next few days, he refused to let you go anywhere without him. If you had errands? He was coming with you. If you had plans? He adjusted them so you could stay in instead. If you so much as moved from the couch, his arm would subtly tighten around you, an unbreakable vise grip that you welcomed warmly.

daesung: everything is a reminder of you

The moment Daesung stepped through the front door, his suitcase rolling behind him, his face lit up the second he saw you. He barely had a chance to say anything before you blurted it out.

“I missed you.”

For a brief second, he just stared at you, his eyes widening as if those words had flipped some switch inside him. Then, suddenly, his whole expression softened into the warmest, most radiant smile.

“You missed me?” His voice was filled with so much genuine happiness, like he couldn’t believe it even though he had been hoping to hear it. Then, before you could even answer, he closed the space between you in a heartbeat, wrapping you up in his arms. “Oh my god, I missed you too! You know that, I told you every day by text, but it wasn’t the same.”

You laughed against his shoulder, feeling how tightly he was holding you, like he had been waiting for this moment the entire tour. He smelled like airport air and faded cologne, but underneath it was something distinctly him, something that made you want to stay right there forever.

Then, just as suddenly as he had hugged you, he pulled back, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “Oh! Wait! I got you something.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Something?”

Daesung grinned. “Okay... maybe a few things.”

And then he grabbed his suitcase, unzipped it with so much enthusiasm that you swore he almost broke the zipper, and started pulling out item after item after item.

“This reminded me of you.” He placed a small trinket in your hands—a keychain shaped like a little cartoon animal, one of your favorites.

“And this one too. Oh, and this! I saw this and immediately thought of you.” A little stuffed animal, then a handmade bracelet, then a snack from one of the local markets.

You watched in awe as the pile kept growing. “Daesung, how much stuff did you buy?”

He looked sheepish but only for a second before laughing. “A lot… but I couldn’t not get them! Everywhere I went, something reminded me of you, and I kept thinking, ‘Oh, she would love this!’ And I couldn’t just choose one thing, so I got everything.”

You stared at him, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of souvenirs but also by the sentiment behind them. He had spent all that time away, traveling from city to city, but he had still been thinking of you the entire time.

Your chest felt warm, overflowing with affection. “You’re ridiculous,” you murmured, shaking your head, but you were smiling, and he knew you weren’t mad in the slightest.

Daesung beamed. “Ridiculously in love with you.” Then he held up one more thing—his arms, wide open. “Now come here and let me make up for all that lost time.”

And, of course, you didn’t hesitate to fall right back into his embrace.

jiyong: planning and eavesdropping

The moment you sighed out the words—“I missed you.”—Jiyong stilled. His lips parted slightly, eyes glinting with something smug. Then, his expression shifted into full dramatic mode.

“Oh?” he said, tilting his head. “Say it again.”

You blinked. “What?”

He leaned in, grinning now. “One more time. Just for me.”

You narrowed your eyes, about to protest, but then he was already pulling you forward, locking you in his arms with a delighted sigh. “Actually, forget that. You’re not going anywhere, little lady. You belong right here for at least the next hour.”

A huff of laughter escaped you, but you didn’t try to pull away. There was no point—Jiyong had latched onto you like a koala, his arms wound tight around your waist, legs tangled with yours as if to physically make up for all the lost time.

The two cats, clearly attuned to the energy in the room, jumped up onto the couch beside you both. One curled into the space between you, the other settled by your legs, their purring blending seamlessly with the warmth of Jiyong’s body against yours.

“You’re acting like I was gone for a year,” you teased, running a hand through his hair.

“Felt like it,” he muttered, his voice muffled against your shoulder. He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes scanning every inch of your face like he was committing it to memory again. “Next time, I’m bringing you with me.”

“You always say that,” you pointed out.

“Yeah, and one day it’s actually gonna happen.” He pulled you even closer, his chin resting on your shoulder. “I already planned, like… seven different dates for us in different cities, by the way.”

You let out a short laugh. “Seven?”

“Obviously. Do you know how much time I spent thinking about you?” He pulled back slightly, just enough to kiss your temple. “A lot, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, you love me.”

Before you could retort, he suddenly gasped, his entire body tensing with excitement. “Oh my god, I almost forgot. You will not believe the gossip I heard.”

You blinked at the abrupt shift. “What?”

Jiyong leaned in, lowering his voice like he was about to tell you the biggest secret in the world. “So, you know how the hairstylists and makeup artists talk to each other while they’re working?”

“Yeah?”

“Well.” His lips curled into a devilish grin. “They think I’m not listening. But I am.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes.” He practically vibrated with excitement. “Okay, listen to this—so apparently, one of the stylists is secretly dating this one idol but no one is supposed to know, but—”

And just like that, the next hour disappeared into a flurry of hushed whispers, gasped reactions, and Jiyong acting out dramatic reenactments of everything he overheard. The cats dozed beside you, entirely unbothered, as he spilled every single secret he had collected like a gremlin hoarding forbidden knowledge.

It wasn’t until much later, when you had both completely melted into each other, his voice softer now as he murmured about places he wanted to take you, that you realized just how much he had missed you.

And how much, without even realizing it, you had missed this.

thanks for reading!

i love making these so like if u want part 3 do lmk!

[starvulture]

Hiya! I'll pop a few requests in for you. Hope you have fun warming up your writing! I'm assuming you want the requests in different asks for ease of replying. :} Apologizing with a Kiss for Matt Murdock

jsyk im kind of obsessed with him so this got a little out of hand. im trying to just let the words come and not worry about editing too hard, so i hope u enjoy!!

Salty Sweet

Matt Murdock/Reader

Matt Murdock misses an important date, and it's your last straw. But he's determined to keep you around. | ao3 | divider source | request guidelines

You carefully scrape the untouched food into separate tupperwares, hot with embarrassment, frustration, and disappointment. Even your own plate only has one or two bites taken, your stomach too twisted with ugly rejection to handle anything. You slide the rest off of the first plate into the tupperware and—

The sauce fucking splashes on your shirt.

Fuck.

It’s such a small thing, but it’s such a nice shirt that you never wear. Sure, he can’t see it, but it makes you feel good and you know it’s a fabric he likes to touch. So after hours of cooking, and then more of waiting, the small splash of sauce on your front is the last straw.

The disappointed heat in your body, your face, concentrates into your eyes with laser focus.

No, no, goddamnit, you think to yourself as the tears well up. I just want to clean and… fuck!

You dump the dishes in the sink, rinsing them off haphazardly before shoving them in the dishwasher and shoving the tupperware in the fridge, slamming doors as you go. Letting it out physically keeps the tears from spilling over, but you still sniffle the whole while as you leave the kitchen and collect your things to go home.

There’s a small part of you that hopes, wishes, that he’d come in through the roof access to find you leaving. Two parallel fantasies play in your head: in one, he grovels and apologizes, breathless and desperate and you tell him to can it. In the other, he arrives bloody and beaten, apologetic, tells you how hard he tried to make it and fought to get back to you…

You pause at the door, but he still doesn’t appear. You lock it behind you when you leave, and take the subway home and try not to cry the whole way.

The floodgates do finally open when you get into your building, like your body can sense shelter in reach and has had enough of holding back. Unlocking the door through blurred vision turns out to be somewhat of a small challenge, but you get in and finally cry openly, tossing your things on the small table all the way to your room. The tears just keep coming as you discard your clothes on the floor and change into your most comfortable pajamas.

You sit and cry on the edge of bed for a while, bent over and hugging yourself. You try not to beat yourself up, but you can’t help but feel like you’re overreacting—no, you argue with yourself. This sucked. Anybody else would be upset too. This week sucked. Of course I’m as upset as I am.

And then; Well, what did you expect? Of course he didn’t show. You were dumb to think it would be different just because he promised.

Your head is aching when the tears finally start to cease and you drag yourself to the bathroom to wash your face, bracing yourself in preparation for the mirror—which shows exactly what you expected when you turn the light on. Red, swollen eyes, puffy lips, and a demeanor sadder than a cat caught in the rain.

Still, you wash your face, only half-assing half the steps. And it helps. You feel somewhat better when you tuck yourself into bed.

There is no heartbeat in his apartment. He’s late, far, far too late, and you’re long gone by now.

Matt trudges down the stairs, the pit in his stomach growing heavier with each descending step. You cooked, just like you had said you would. The meal smells delicious—his stomach growls meekly, but the sensation is soured by guilt. Fuck.

He stops at the base of the stairs, head turning to follow the smells you’ve left. The apartment, though warmer than the night he’d just come in from, is still cold. You’d left the lights off, judging by the lack of extra electrical hum, and as he approaches the kitchen he puts together that you’d cleaned after yourself. There’s a bit of sauce in the sink—ah, the dishes are in the washer—and tupperware in the fridge. Two.

You never ate.

Damn it.

He stands on the sidewalk outside your building at midnight listening to your heartbeat and debating whether or not to come up. You’re asleep, but it doesn’t sound restful. It just sounds tired.

Would you be glad to see him? Would you be angry? He’s almost certain you’ll be very, very upset with him. But… he can’t pull himself away. Waiting until morning to apologize almost seems worse than what he’s already done—what he’s already failed to do.

His mind is both trapped still in quicksand and running a thousand miles a minute, formulating an apology as he clenches his cane’s handle in both hands, his bruised knuckles stretching pale and vivid purple.

Then, he hears you shift in your bed and your breath change—you’re waking up. Rising, walking to the kitchen to get water.

His tongue flicks across the split in his lip, and the decision is made for him. He enters the building, taking stairs two at a time to get to your third floor apartment before you settle back into bed. By the time he gets there, you’re back in your bedroom but you haven’t reached your bed. So, panting and breathless and stomach about to fall out of his ass, he knocks gently.

Your steps stop. He waits, knocks again.

His heart skips a beat when you come to the door. He hears the way your heart speeds up, nervous, and the way you suck in a sharp breath.

The smell of wet salt is heavy even through the door, and when he opens his mouth to speak he can taste it.

“Sweetheart,” he says quietly through the door, breathless. “I’m– I’m so, so sorry. Please. I’m so—” he clenches his jaw, hanging his head. “I’m so sorry.”

He hears you swallow on the other side of the door.

“Please,” he begs again, his throat tight with guilt.

“You don’t look very hurt,” you whisper. Anybody else wouldn’t have been able to hear you through the door, but he knows that you know he heard you perfectly fine.

His stomach lurches. Had you been worried about him?

“There was… Sweetheart, please let me in to explain.”

You don’t respond, but you don’t tell him to fuck off either.

Stalemate.

Matt rests his forehead on the door by your peephole. “I swear, I’m so sorry sweetheart. I didn’t… I made the wrong decision tonight.”

Your jaw clenches at that. Anger.

Surprising both of you, you open the door.

“Explain,” you say.

The taste of salt hits him hard, and he can hear the way you’re trying to keep your angry breaths in check as you stand in the doorway.

“There was a bait, a decoy, they set up a fake–”

You scoff. “And you fell for it?”

“The people who told me didn’t know it was a decoy.”

You take a deep, frustrated, steadying breath. Your heart steadies and Matt knows he has his foot in the door.

“They caught me out. I couldn’t go home, they were trying to track me, and I couldn’t—”

Oh, oh no. More salt.

You wipe at your face, voice trembling, as you turn away and walk into your apartment, letting him follow after you. “I’m tired, Matt.”

He quickly steps in after you before you change your mind, closing and locking the door behind him. He discards his folded cane by the door with your shoes and coats, following after you, hands outstretched with irrepressible desire to soothe. “I know, I’m so sorry–”

“You couldn’t call? Not once? Matt, I was worried!” You turn around to face him.

He approaches you like a skittish animal, and you push his hands away halfheartedly. “I would have called if I could,” he says earnestly. “Please believe me, this isn’t what I wanted for tonight.” His hands still hover in the air in supplication.

And then the tears spill over, and he can’t stop himself from reaching out to hold you and wipe them away. He thanks God when you lean into him this time, instead of pushing him away again.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, forehead to yours. “I’m sorry.”

“Something has to change, Matt,” you get out between tearful breaths. “I know this is who you are. But… but relationships—” you have to swallow, “you can’t neglect them. It’s been forever since we’ve had real time together. I don’t know if—”

“Don’t,” he whispers. “Please. I’m taking tomorrow off. Of everything. It’s just going to be about us. Okay?”

“I mean,” you hiccup. “Unless you hear something really fucked up. I don’t want you to not save people.”

He smiles, chuckles lightly. You’re joking, that’s good, but he can also tell you mean it. You want him to be who he is, just… he knows he’s been neglecting you. His priorities have been all wrong.

“Alright,” he says, thumbs smoothing across your cheeks as you look up at him. “I’m taking tomorrow off of everything, unless I hear a real, actual emergency.”

“Good,” you whisper, hands on his wrists as he cradles your face.

“I promise,” he says, face inching closer. “I’m going to make the last two months up to you.”

“You better,” you whisper, and he kisses you. His lips are soft, despite the healing split, and he kisses you so sweetly you feel as though you’ve floated off back into your dreams.

“Come on,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead after pulling back and wrapping his arms around you. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

[ohraicodoll]

Consequences

Joel Miller x Feral Reader/OC (Red) Words 3.5k/3rd POV Feral Reader Masterlist Mentions of graphic violence Summary: It felt impossible to keep breathing normally but she tried. They were looking for Joel.

(i.e. Red and Joel run into Abby) AN: It's 5am and I had to write this out after that episode. __________________

Red cursed, rifle held tight, and breath ragged from the cold and racing to find a way out. They’d been held up in the mine, sheltered and trying to wait out the storm when Joel had spotted the horde. It had left her breathless seeing all those disjointed infected bodies tumbling down the mountain side like a tsunami, a wave of death. 

They were running out of time, the infected having hit the fence and then her partner, like a dumbass, running out there to help a straggler. 

Gritting her teeth, she reloaded and grabbed the horses, anger and frustration fighting against the panic, “We gotta go!” 

The straggler, a younger girl whose eyes were wide and face entirely red from the biting cold, looked at her and looked back at Joel. He grunted with frustration but hadn’t moved away yet. 

Red whistled, high pitched and sharp, and his head jerked towards her with his jaw clenched. She didn’t have to repeat herself, knowing he would understand the silent “Now!” as she pulled herself up on the horse. The walls weren’t holding up and they would be on them fast. Her heart was screaming for him to fucking move and finally he growled and grabbed the girl’s arm, dragging her along as the infected broke through. 

They poured in, limbs and teeth topping over each other. They crawled all over each other with renewed eagerness now that they were in sight and one by one, she started to fire.

The horde was a mix of old infected, Clickers, and Runners and she aimed down her rifle and tried to give them cover to get to the horse. Her brain quickly cycled through and picked off the most pressing of the crowd, vision tunneling as the pile grew. Arms reached for Joel and she snarled, putting a bullet into head after head to keep him safe. Another dove for the girl and then its knee exploded as her bullet hit, the girl flinching away and ducking. 

It was chaos but also so vivid and clear. There was only one objective and it was to get them away from the infected, hell or high water. Just her and her bullets. Shot after shot, she stood steadfast until at last she heard Joel kick his horse into gear. Only then did she take off after him. 

The sounds of clicks and screams were deafening but her own hard breaths were so loud in her ears. They pressed the horses hard, the biting cold and wind so painful it felt like being stabbed and snow kicking up around them. She tried to keep her fingers moving on the reins to keep them from freezing in place and the hard saddle was bruising her thighs. 

They were slowly gaining distance and then came to an abrupt halt, lungs burning and frost covering every inch of exposed skin. Red looked at her companions, Joel’s beard completely frosted and the girl’s lips were turning blue. But his eyes were fixed on something in the distance.

Jackson. Jackson was burning, smoke rising high. 

The horde. It was the only thing she could think of.

Her heart was already in her throat with thoughts of “Ellie, where’s Ellie?” and getting themselves to safety. She knew they wouldn’t be able to make it back. It wasn’t realistic. Her mind was going through the schedule to try and imagine where her kid would be. Ellie was meant to be on patrol but Joel let her sleep in so she would be on second dispatch, but the tower may have called them back. So she could be back home or she could be out in the cold.

“We have to go back! We have to get to them!” Joel yelled with frantic eyes.

Her mouth was cotton and dry as she argued, “We can’t, We won’t make it back and we’ll risk hitting the horde. We need to hole up and check in-”

“They fucking need us-”

“They need us alive first!” she yelled back. 

“We have a place. A lodge,” they both paused and looked back at the girl shivering on the back of Joel’s horse, “My friends are there and we aren’t far. They may not follow us up the mountain if we go that way. You can decide what to do there!”

Joel’s lips were pressed into an angry hard line, gaze still locked on the smoke and light from Jackson. He knew there was no way back with the storm and infected and little to no information and hated it, hated not being able to get there and check on Tommy or Ellie or Maria or any of his community. But they were right and with a grunt he took off towards the lodge. 

Red followed but was also thinking through every aspect of what they could do. She knew Ellie could take care of herself, but they had never seen a size of infected of that magnitude and her girl was too damn brave and stubborn for her own good. She could only hope the kid was on patrol far away from the destruction. For now, there was the other problem of their own situation. 

There was risk of frostbite and the cold plus the unknown of the girl and her group. Had she been bit outside the mine? If so, would the group be willing to put her down? She didn’t get a read that she was a raider, but her being found solo so far away from her group was troubling. 

On a good day, she was distrustful of the strangers they came across and this one was pinging alarm bells. Paranoia had always served her well and even years in Jackson hadn’t worn that away. Her hackles were raised and she was pissed enough at Joel for even risking himself for a stranger. 

The girl was at least right in that the horde didn’t go up and follow them. The lodge came into sight and when Red went to quick dismount, her legs locked up and she stumbled to the snow roughly. Joel got down and rushed over to help her, gloved hands tight on her arms as he dragged her up. 

And for a quick second, she caught his eyes. They hardened and flicked to the girl trying to rush off the horse and flickered back with a small shake of her head. There was a second where Red doubted if he would get what she meant. He always seemed to silently understand her. It’s how they had worked so well over the years. He just knew what she was trying to say but anxiety was high and this was the tensest situation they had been in a while. 

It was with a bit of relief when he gave an almost imperceptible nod back. They followed the girl in, shivering and full of adrenaline but cautious.

The lodge had been one of their checkout points but it had been a while since they themselves had been put on the route to check it, most of the time being reserved for the more active zones or scouting. She had no clue what resources had been left at this post but she could feel that someone had found the fire supplies as the main area was warmer from the small fire someone had started in a fire pit.

The girl’s group rushed to help her and Red quickly went to help Joel take off his layers to get dry a few feet away, keeping close while watching them. Six of them. Armed and rested, but they didn’t all look like fighters. Definitely not raiders, but they almost seemed military which put her on edge. She had come across similar groups before, but the few non-fighters were what was throwing her off. 

One of them broke off, another girl with short hair, and approached them quickly, “Let me help you both get checked out. We have some medicine and can get you fixed up.” She reaches for her, but Red backed up on instinct from her touch. 

They were outnumbered and if she made them on edge, it could go south. She was gonna have to make the effort to tone down the abrasiveness. Instead she tried to shrug off her motion and nodded to Joel, “I’m okay, Check him-”

Joel rapidly shook his head, distracted, throwing his pack down and picking up his radio to start calling into Jackson. She needed to get him to calm down, to focus, but that was going to be damn near impossible when there was the potential Ellie or his brother was in danger. Damage control. That’s all she could do. Later, she’d rail on him for having her clean up the mess but for now the priority was that they were stuck with people they didn’t know or trust alone. 

“Are you sure?” the short haired girl asked, med kit in hand and she only nodded and tried to appear grateful. 

“You’re from that city?” the girl Joel had saved asked, blanket held tight around her shoulders. 

Red gave a sharp nod, telling herself to relax herself and loosen her limbs, soften her glare. It’d gotten easier over the years to appear more “social” or at least convince people she wasn’t hostile at first sight. But inside she was all teeth and ached to bite, her fingers warming up and itching to rest on top of her holster for safety.

Docile. Appear like a sheep, tuck the wolf away for when it was needed. 

Swallowing, she sent an obviously worried look at Joel, almost trying to get his attention, “We were out and got separated in the storm. We were holed up when we came across you running.”

The group is casting worried looks and she tries to nonchalantly look over their gear, appearing curious, “Were you all traveling through the area when the storm hit?”

Various forms of looks and shrugs passed over them in answer, not consistent but not outwardly lying. She could feel Joel watching from the corner of his eye, radio still in hand. 

The girl stood at last, braid over her shoulder and the red in her face starting to lessen, “These are my friends Manny, Nora, Mel, and Owen. And I’m Abby.” She listed them off too quickly and easily for them to be fake. Honest, either too trusting or they were confident in outnumbering them. 

Joel turned more, seeing what she was seeing and quickly taking them in as an unease began to fall. His mouth started to open, but Red cut him off with faux ease, “I’m Alexandra and this is Tex.” She didn’t look at him but could feel his gaze cutting into her before giving his own nod. 

Caution. No names, no revealing who they were or what they could do.

“Listen, we need to get back to our people and try to help,” Joel frowned. 

“You won’t make it back with the cold,” Abby argued, brown furrowed and eyes flickering between both of them. 

He gritted his teeth and glanced back through the window, “We have to try.”

Red watched as the dark haired man, Manny tried to casually move a little behind Joel. Before he could flank him, she tried to move easily over and grab Joel’s arm, tugging him down to a chair nearby that was against the wall. “Let’s just rest a bit and figure this out,” she pleaded, the faux peacekeeper though her nails dug into his arm in warning.

“The town you’re from,” Abby started, “Would it happen to be called Jackson?”

Her fist clenched and she froze, meeting her gaze. Not passer-bys. The rule was they don’t tell people the town’s name so them knowing it meant they were looking for it. Could be people trying to seek asylum but she doubted it, they seemed decently able to handle themselves and not starved or in need of assistance. Which meant they came from their own place with enough resources to keep them stocked.

“And if it is?” Joel asked carefully, sitting up a little straighter. Her nails pressed deeper, a warning.

“We’re looking for someone,” one of the men, Owen, spoke up hesitantly, “We heard they may be in a place called Jackson in the area.”

The alarm bells were ringing because while he and some of the others in the group looked nervous, Abby’s eyes were hardening. She’d seen that look before, had felt it herself. Determination with an edge of violence. That was a dangerous look that could go either way.

Red tried to stay loose, hand on Joel’s arm and leaning against the chair arm. This was not a situation she liked being in, surrounded and not exactly at full strength with the exits behind the group. Fighting wouldn’t work, they had to wait. 

Red by no means was a negotiator or a talker. She was the weapon, the brute force, but this wasn’t the situation for a knife. And Joel was too on edge to calm people down.

“There’s a lot of people back home,” Joel started carefully, “”depends who you’re looking for. What are yall, military? Looking for a family member or something?”

“Not quite,” Abby smiled sardonically, “The man’s name is Joel Miller. Don’t have much of a description of him, but we heard he and his daughter may be here. I know he was a smuggler, previously from the Boston QZ.”

It felt impossible to keep breathing normally but she tried, trying not to give a reaction. They were looking for Joel. Knew about him and Ellie. 

The list of people who could possibly be after Joel was not a short list, but most didn’t know his name. They had killed and tore their way across the country five years before to get Ellie to the Fireflies and she wasn’t surprised if these people were wanting revenge. But these people knew of him, knew his name, but no description.

Salt Lake was the only option. Fireflies. 

But these people hadn’t been directly on site. Because they had left no survivors. That had been her rule. You leave no witnesses, no matter what. No loose ends. 

It was the only thing she could think of as Marlene had known who Joel was and that he was delivering Ellie. 

Panic. All she could feel was panic. They couldn’t find out that the very person they were looking for was sitting in front of them.

Joel had tensed next to her and she dug her nails in tighter on his arm. She was sure she would leave bloody nail marks in the skin. Her mouth was dry and she sighed, “I’m guessing you’re not looking for him for a good reason.” She needed confirmation that they were hunting him, needed to know for sure they were a threat.

The tension was choking, suffocating, and the light further left Abby’s eyes, “He’s a murderer and I need to find him.”

The silence stretched for a few seconds before Red sighed reluctantly, “I know who you’re talking about.”

Joel’s eyes were on her, furrowed, and she winced before looking at them all. They had taken a few steps forward, Red automatically how fast she could get her gun out, and there was almost a manic desperation in Abby’s gaze as it locked onto her face, “Tell us where he is. If you help us out, we’ll send you back on your way. Our issue isn’t with you.”

Red had to swallow a scoff and turned it into an apologetic frown, “You’re about a few years too late. Joel is dead.”

The girl stomped forward and she had to fight the urge not to snarl, “Don’t fucking lie.” Her anger was palpable, heavy and oppressive and turning her teeth sharp and eyes cold. Personal. This was personal which meant Abby was willing to do whatever she needed to to get to her goal. Red knew what that felt like, knew how dangerous that way. 

And it was aimed at Joel.

“She’s right,” the man himself chimed in gruffly and his fists clenched, “He’s dead. We had to put a bullet in him when he turned on us after stealing supplies and trying to bolt. Was only with us a couple years and the kid took off after.”

The group started looking between each other, questions in their looks, almost as a “What now?” But Abby was shaking her head, eyes wide and glassy, “No, he has to be here. He has to pay-”

“He did,” Red cut her off, “He’s dead.”

"That's not enough,” Abby argued back, “I needed-”

“Abby, there’s nothing we can do,” Nora chimed in worriedly. 

The girl snarled, “We can’t have come all this way for nothing. They’re lying!”

“We’re not,” Red replied calmly, letting some of that anger seep through, the rage that constantly simmered under her skin heating her blood and coating her voice, “Joel Miller was a piece of shit monster who only cared about himself and caused trouble constantly. Jackson has no room for monsters.”

It was a lie. Jackson was full of them. She would know, she was one of them.

If the girl wanted to keep pushing, she’d fight. She wouldn’t let them take him no matter what and would carve through as many as she could. But there was Ellie and she needed to get both of them back to their kid so she’d play this card and hope.

Joel’s eyes were on her, watching, a breath away from being up and ready to fight if needed. They were both tightly wound coils, waiting to explode.

“Sometimes things just don’t work out,” Red stood up straighter and tried to meet Abby’s eyes, “It’s bullshit but it doesn’t change the fact that he is gone and the world is better without him.”

Owen stepped forward and put his hand on her shoulder as an angry tear trailed down Abby’s cheek, “There’s nothing here for us, Abby. It’s done. It’s time to go-”

“No, it can’t end like this!” she shouted back.

“But it is,” he answered back apologetically, “He’s dead. That’s that.”

“He killed my dad, Owen,” Abby sobbed angrily and Red clenched her teeth, Joel stiffening next to him, “Dad was going to make a cure and save everyone and instead he got a bullet in his head and was left there like he was nothing but trash.”

The words ring a bell and the dots start to connect. The doctor. This was the doctor’s daughter. That time was a blur of gunfire and smoke and blood, bodies falling one after another. But she remembered the doctor, trying to block their way to Ellie with just a scalpel. They had shot him. Shot him and the nurses and Marlene and everyone who got in their way.

Dozens of people with loved ones. Would more come looking for them just like Abby, either to get revenge? 

She looked up at her, eyes red and wide and tears running down her cheek. The face of revenge. The consequences of their actions.

“I’m sorry,” Red replied softly.

She wasn’t. Not for a second. 

She’d shoot him herself again.

Because it was for Ellie. And she refused to regret any part of keeping her safe.

Lips pressed tightly, eyes cold and so full of anger and sorrow, Abby stood. 

And then one by one, they all left. 

They waited five minutes, ten, and then she moved to the large window and watched them walk away through the snow. Her chest was tight and her hands were starting to shake as it all sank in. She kept watching them as they got smaller and smaller, even as she heard Joel stand and move behind her.

“They were Fireflies,” he grunted low and hesitant.

She sighed and turned to him, “The Fireflies are dead, Tex. They were just the death rattle left behind.”

“Someone knew enough to tell them about Jackson and that I was there,” He frowned, the dim light of the dying storm outside making his eyes almost seem black. They met hers and he chewed on the inside of his cheek, “You believe any of the stuff you said? That I’m a piece of shit selfish monster?”

“That’s what you focused on?” she scoffed, but his mood didn’t lighten, only continued to stare her down. She knew why he was focusing on it. It was something he believed himself. Now he was looking at her like it was finally confirmation it all was true.

Red instead stepped closer, looking up into his face, and let all the anxiety and anger float to the front for him to see, “We’re both monsters, Joel. I don’t regret a single thing we did. If it was up to me, none of them would have walked out of here alive, But it was easier to like and luckily it worked. Are you also a piece of shit? Sometimes. Are you selfish? When it comes to your people, yes. None of that has changes anything.”

Her hand rose and cupped his cheek, thumb running over the graying hair of his beard and rough texture of his skin. His eyes shut and his own hands rose to rest on her waist, pulling her close as she whispered, “You’re mine. No one gets to take you from me.” 

He swallows hard and rests his forehead against hers, just breathing in slowly as the adrenaline of the situation drained away. They had to make a plan, get back to Jackson, find Ellie, help save whoever they had to. But for now they had put some demons to bed and she could only feel relief at that. 

There was a creak as wood shifted near the doorway and in the next breath they both had their pistols pointed towards the open entrance and figure standing there. 

Ellie flinched before letting out a giant sigh, “Thank god! We were freaking out looking for you in this storm!”

They both holstered their guns as she rushed forward and gave them a hug. She tried not to focus on this being the first hug in a long time between all three of them. Instead they relaxed as the worry melted for all different reasons.

Jackson still needed help and they had no clue what was waiting for them, but Ellie was always gonna be their first priority and she was safe. They were safe. 

No one was taking them away from her. ______________________________________________ Taglist: @alouise20 @faceache111​ @hawsx3 @taxidriversainz @iluvbunnyhops @mrfitzdarcyslover @emlovesya  @agent007knight @spaacerabbit @namgification @wonwoosthetic  @wxnderingthoughts @sagggy @escaping-reality8 @badwolf00593​ @themothersmercy @badwolf00593 @mxtokko @happinessinthebeing​ @taranicristeard  @aroacefanenby @barbellpedro  @maviee​ @sgt-morgan @peppesgirl​ @spideysimpossiblegirl ​ @hreader7​ @jackierose902109

[koenigami]

tags : fem!reader, fluff, takes place before his disappearance wc : 600 synopsis: just caleb keeping a creep's wandering eyes away from you

The bright headlights of cars passing by illuminated the street. Usually buzzing with people, it was now pretty devoid with only a few pedestrians hurrying home due to the heavy rain. You cringed when a rather large truck drove by way too close, and water from a nearby puddle it must have driven through splashed all over your already soaked shoes. 

“The bus should be here soon.” CALEB chuckled, amusement very clear in his voice, when he heard you groan in annoyance as you squeezed your wet hair. You were glad that the bus shelter shielded you a bit from the torrent, yet the cold wind made it difficult for your clothes to start drying as they still clung to your body like a second layer of skin. You shot Caleb a scowl when his hand on top of your head ruffled your already messy hair, yet the smirk on his face quickly softened once he noticed you shivering. “Are you cold?”

You shook your head stubbornly. “No, just feeling icky. I can’t wait to change into some dry clothes.” 

A grimace formed on your face when you plucked your shirt between your fingers, and unstuck the wet fabric off your front. “Also, what are the odds of the both of us not checking the weather for tonight before- Hey! Caleb, I told you already, I’m not-”

Your complaints about Caleb forcefully wrapping you up in his jacket quickly died down on your tongue once warmth seeped into your chilled bones.

It spread like wildfire all the way through your body and up to your cheeks as you watched him zip it up for you. His free hand tilted your face to the side, cradling it gently while making sure not to get your chin caught on the zipper. And once it was done, you couldn’t help but sigh at the smell of the jacket’s collar. Caleb’s smell. 

“I’m just trying to save you from a nasty cold, Pipsqueak. You’re a real pain in the ass when you get sick, you know that?”

He sounded lighthearted as he spoke, but you wondered if you were seeing things when you noticed this dark look in his eyes as he stuffed his hands in the front pockets of his jeans with a little too much force.

“Are you… alright?”

“What? Uh, yeah, yeah.” His attention shifted from somewhere behind him right back to you, the tension visibly leaving his body as he offered you a genuine soft smile at the sight of his jacket fitting you perfectly. “Now much better though.”

You hadn’t noticed how close he had come until your back was pressed against the glass panel. Yet you didn’t dare to complain as Caleb’s broad body served very well as another shield from the uncomfortable cold and rain that didn’t seem to ease anytime soon.

All while the true reason for his sudden questioning demeanour completely went over your head. 

Because said reason was standing just a few feet away from the two of you, a seemingly innocent man around his 50s, but with an obvious penchant for your pink bra which was anything but invisible underneath your wet white shirt. 

“Hmm, I think you’re actually the one who wants to get some extra treatment from me.” Your words slipped between pursed lips as you watched goosebumps rise along his arms. Before another complaint could fall from your lips, you were already wrapped up in his arms, strong hands finding your waist as he pulled you impossibly closer until all you could see, smell, or feel was him. 

“Maybe.” You heard him whisper against your ear, and exhaled a shaky breath when the corner of his lips touched your temple, hushed words chasing away the last ounce of cold from your body. “You’ll have to keep me warm then, alright?”

[sigma-alpha-writer-chad]

Grow Up, Would You? [Josh Washington]

“I don’t know if you’ve changed any since middle school but I really hope you’ve learned the difference between pranking somebody and just being a fucking bully.”

You can also find this story on Ao3!

Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three

[CHAPTER TWO]

CW: Marijuanna use

“Chris, I’m not so sure about this,” I mumble, crossing my arms as I follow my cousin down the forest trail. “Things are just going to get super awkward.”

“Then just… don’t talk to him. Can’t be that hard, right?” Chris responds. I can tell that he knows as well as I do that Josh himself would do whatever it takes to get under my skin in any given circumstance.

“It’s his house,” I retort.

“It’s Hannah’s get together,” he replies. “She knows how you guys are, hopefully she’ll get him off your ass.” I say nothing. "Just..." Chris stops walking and turns around to look me in the eyes.

"What?"

"Just please try to get along?" He asks. His expression is serious and pleading. I sigh, heavily. Why wasn't he on my side? Why can't Josh try to get along with me?

"Sure, Chris," I relent. "I'll... do my best." Chris smiles at me appreciatively and continues down the trail. I hate this. I don't want to be walked over, I don't want to be the doormat or the verbal punching bag for whoever was in a bad mood that day - especially Josh's. But I didn't want to ruin everybody else's good mood, either. If no one else sees a problem, why am I so upset?

The autumn trees towered above us, providing shelter from the warm sun – although some warmth would be appreciated as the temperatures dropped lower by the day. I’d only been to the Washington house before for some rager of a graduation party, when the sky was dark. With the sun, however, the gorgeous forest could make me almost forget I was on a death march to the lair of my enemy.

Chris and I finally make it to the porch of the Washington home. He turns to me, as if to say “after you!” I hold my arms tighter to my body and shake my head. So, after a roll of the eyes, he knocks. There’s a muffled call from the other side to let us know someone was coming to let us in. Just my luck, Joshua opens the door.

“What are you, Chris, a vampire? Gotta be invited in, now?” Josh jokes, a wide grin on his face.

“I’m with Jordan,” Chris says, as if clarifying. Josh looks over Chris’s shoulder to see me. I swear I see his smile widen, and I can only think that can’t be good.

“You can leave her outside, Chris, no worries,” Josh snickers as he steps aside, holding open the door for Chris and I. As I walk past, I nod and offer a gentle thanks. “You’re welcome, pet.” Immediately, Chris sighs as if he knows whats coming. He knows I want to say something – but the guilt I feel in my chest for ruining every good mood keeps me from speaking. Instead, I just give him a hurt, frustrated look.

Josh seems surprised. Next to the shock, though, is a flash of an emotion I can’t quite catch. It’s Josh, however. So I didn’t much care. I walked into the living room, where everyone else was waiting. Hannah stands up and hurries to greet me, walking straight past Chris to pull me into a hug.

“Ahh, thank you for coming! I’m glad you could make it!”

“Oh, uhm, thank you!” I pause. “For inviting me, I mean. You have a lovely home.” I give an awkward bow, staring wide-eyed at the floor. You’re so fucking weird, what are you doing?! I scold myself. I know they’re thinking it, too, but I once again push the negative thoughts away.

“We’re gonna head down to the basement,” Hannah says, smiling as if I hadn’t just made the most awkward air possible. “Do you smoke?” I’m taken by surprise. Chris, Josh, and everyone else walks past Hannah and I and towards the stairs.

“Smoke?” I repeat. “What, like, weed?” Hannah giggles.

“Yes, like, weed,” she says.

“Yeah, sometimes. Not often, though.”

“Great! We have weed.”

“Sounds… good.” A part of me is relieved. Maybe with something in my system I’ll be able to relax for once. Especially around Josh. I feel a burning anger in my chest at just the thought of him. Hannah takes my hand firmly and begins to lead me to the stairs the others had gone down. I make a mental note that the twins both really seem to like holding hands. Not that I minded. It just wasn’t that common for someone to take your hand in theirs when showing you around their house.

We get to the basement, and it’s noticeably colder. And massive. My eyebrows raise as I look around the room. There’s a huge TV mounted on the wall, a large circular wooden table in the middle of the room on a round, purple rug. Around the table for seating were two L couches, and on the couches were Hannah’s friends. Not everyone, though.

Matt, Sam, and Jess were missing, leaving just Ashley, Mike, and his girlfriend Emily, who was casually sitting on his lap. Next to Mike and Emily, Chris unsurprisingly had sat next to Ashley, leaving the other couch to Hannah, Beth, Joshua and I. For a moment I wondered if this could be some kind of set up. Hannah quickly left my side to sit next to Beth on the furthest end of the couch. On the other side was, of course, Joshua, rolling a joint. And, of course, the only open seat was next to him.

And he knew it.

I didn’t want to be rude or, again, make things awkward. And so, I sat next to Joshua Washington. It’s here, watching him focused on something that I suddenly realize how tired he looks. The underside of his eyes were dark, as if he hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in days.

“Like what you see?” Josh smiles, eyebrows raised. I frown in response.

“No.” I immediately regret this as the vibe is instantly brought down by my rude answer. “I mean, like, not NO, but I just mean I didn’t -”

“Calm down, girl, I’m just… just JOSHING ya,” he laughs. I roll my eyes but I can’t help the small smile that hints at my face. Josh’s head snapped to his sisters, mouth wide open in a smile as if he can’t believe I was capable of anything but a straight face or a frown. “I made her smile!” He whisper yells. I hate it, but it makes it harder to keep the smile down. Somehow I manage not to fully grin.

“Alright, you first, Mike,” Josh says, handing the dark haired boy the joint. Mike takes a long drag and shotguns it to Emily. My lip twitches, threatening to make an obvious sneer at the strong PDA.

“Ohh, spicey,” I hear Josh laugh. “Chris and Ashley next.” Ashley and Chris immediately chime in in a chorus of no’s. Chris takes the joint and takes a hit. I notice his hands are shaking. The idea of his lips so close to Ashley’s is more than it appears he can take. I can hear Josh continue to laugh to himself as Ashley is handed the joint.

“So, what’s the plan for the winter this year?” Beth says, her face shining with excitement. “Are you guys coming?” Mike and Emily look away from each other, their teasing and giggling cut short by Beth’s question. Despite the unhappy look on Emily’s face, she answers. Ashley passes the joint to Hannah.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, hon,” she smiles, but it looks forced and sarcastic, even. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion as to why she’s here – and why does she keep getting invited? Mike nods next to her, a smile on his handsome face. He seems much more laid back and agreeable than his girlfriend, who I notice is looking me up and down. “Do you have a problem or something, weird girl?” I’m taken aback at the sudden confrontation and I sit up straight. My heart begins to pound. Hannah passes the joint to Beth.

“No, I don’t. I was just -”

“Staring at me like some sort of creep? Yeah, I saw. I saw you look at my man, too. What’s up? You want him?”

“What? No, I -”

“You can’t have him. So eyes off, bitch.” I clench my jaw, hard. I swear I almost cracked a tooth.

"Emily -" Mike starts, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration and embarrassment. He shoots me a worried, apologetic look.

"No, it's fine," I say, staring Emily directly in the eyes. As I expected, she takes it as a challenge. "I looked at you, yeah. When you're sucking face like that it's hard to ignore." Beth passes the joint to Josh.

"Well, keep looking." Emily hisses, throwing her arms around Mike and holding his neck tightly. I wonder if he can breathe. I clear my throat and look up at Chris. His eyes are already a bit droopier, but through his mild high he still looks back at me with a sort of pity and embarrassment that I just can't stand.

Josh hands me the joint.

"Go on, take a big drag, babydoll," Josh grins at me. I frown at him. He did nothing wrong, but I still can't help but feel like he's making fun of me in some way. Still, I ignore the nickname. I know he's just trying to get under my skin, yet I can feel the tips of my ears heat up in embarrassment. I side-eye Josh as I put the blunt in between my lips. He's staring at me as if he's studying me, his ever present smile missing from his face, eyes half closed. He couldn't be high that quickly, could he?

As he suggested, I take a long drag, adding a bit of 'coolness' by French inhaling.

"Oh, so cool, I've never seen that before," Emily says sarcastically. I ignore her as I pass the weed back to Mike. Mike doesn't look at me as he takes it, instead glaring at Emily. I can tell he's embarrassed by her cruelty.

I don't hate Mike. He's never been my favorite person in the world, but he's never done anything to me or that I've seen that could make me dislike him other than his habit of... Well, women. However, I could tell that despite her attitude Mike saw something beneath that and really did care about Emily. He was handsome, I could never deny that. Thick, dark hair and brown eyes, a chiseled jaw and a decent body to match. The more time I spent near him the more I understood that he really wasn't a stereotypical 'high school hot guy.' Mr. Class President. He locks eyes with me and gives me an awkward smile. I can sense an apology in his expression. I want to return a look, but I quicky shift my gaze before Emily catches on to the telepathic conversation.

As we continue the rotation, the conversation of their winter plans continues on. I listen, but I don't contribute due to my lack of invitation. I look around me, and everyone looks happy and content. I can feel my own high start to creep up under my eyes, and I can't help but smile to myself. It was pleasant. Even though these were people I didn't yet consider friends outside of Chris, Beth, and Hannah, I didn't feel completely out of place in this moment. I felt content for the first time in a long time.

An hour passes.

"Hey, I'm sorry, where's your bathroom?" I ask. I start to think I might be greening out and I needed a moment to myself. Josh turns to me, a dopey grin on his face.

"The bathroom?" He asks. I smile back at him.

"Yeah, the bathroom."

"What for?" Josh scoots closer as if to hear me better.

"I'm getting anxious, I think," I admit. This surprises me. Why would I tell Josh I'm anxious? So he can make it worse? Instead of poking fun at me and telling everyone to look, his smile fades slightly and his eyebrows twitch in what looks like concern.

"Anxious? Are you ok?"

"I'm greening," I say, widening my eyes for a moment to exaggerate. Josh takes my hand.

"I will escort you to the bathroom," he says, standing up. "It's kind of a maze, this house." He's smiling at me. Even under the influence I can't help but search for any sign of malicious intent. My anxiety spikes further. What does he have planned?

"Can't you just tell me how to get there?" I ask, though I stand with him anyway.

"Yeah, but you'll get lost."

"Joshua Washington," Hannah starts, her tone that of a parent warning their child. "You better not upset her or I swear..."

"Yeah!" Beth chimes in.

"Awe, guys, give me a chance! Give me a chance..." He trails off, beginning to lead me to the stairs, still holding my hand. When we're further away, I inform him that my hand was still in his. "Oh, can I just keep holding it? Your hands are just so soft." I say nothing. How do I respond to that? Is this some sort of joke?

"Your hands are calloused," is all I can muster.

"Oh, man, is that bad?"

"No."

We stand in front of a door. I assume it's the bathroom but I can't think clearly. Josh just stares at me. I ask him if this is the bathroom. He says nothing. He's expressionless.

"You seem anxious around me, do I make you anxious?"

"Is this the bathroom?" I ask. Silence. My heart is pounding. What is he trying to do? Embarrass me? He's staring into my very being. Of course he makes me anxious.

"...yeah." He steps aside, opening the door for me. He suddenly seems sober. I feel a pang of guilt as I walk past him and into the bathroom. Why? I stare at myself in the mirror, studying my own features. I'm not wearing any makeup, but I kind of wish I did. Maybe some mascara, or something. My cheeks and the tips of my ears were a light red, my flustered state obvious. As I observe myself, my mind wanders to the people out there, in the basement. Chris seems to really enjoy their company. Outside of Emily and Josh, I do too. Yet I still can't help but question it all.

Did they see me as a charity case? They never invited me to anything before, no texts after I'd moved. The friendship or my classmates was utterly and completely out of nowhere. Why did Beth and Hannah invite me? My pupils are dilated. I look tired. My eyes water. Will I be invited again? I think I hope so.

A knock on the door makes me jump.

"Are you ok in there?"

"It's been like, 10 seconds."

"It's been like, 10 minutes, J." Had it really been that long? There was no way. J? I find myself wondering where such a familiar sounding nickname came from.

"Are you timing me?" I ask.

"No," he answers. "I'm not." A beat of silence.

"Have you been waiting for me this whole time?" Josh doesn't answer. After a moment of silence, he knocks again.

"Are you ok in there?" I roll my eyes and sigh in frustration, opening the door and stepping out. Well, trying to. Josh is standing directly in the opening and I bump into him, hard, but he doesn't stumble. He grabs both my shoulders as if to hold me still, keep me from falling over. I only notice now he's taller than me by a few inches, my eyes in line with his mouth.

"Yeah," I say, frozen in place. He's touching me

Why is he touching me? Why? His grip loosens, noticing how tense I am.

"You were just in there for a while, and," he paused, taking a step back. "I dunno, sometimes people cry at get togethers or whatever." I chew on my lower lip. I had almost cried. "It would've been a major bummer, or whatever."

"Do I look like I was crying?"

"Yes." I'm taken aback, lifting my hands to my face. Sure enough, my cheeks are wet with what can only be tears.

"How would - how would you know?" Now it's his turn to be embarrassed. He takes another step back from me as he looks at the wall to my left, shifting his weight. Is he nervous?

"...I've seen you cry a lot."

"Oh. Right." The silence is deafening. "Let's go back downstairs." I wipe my face dry with the sleeves of my sweater. "Thanks for showing me where the bathroom is." I try to change the subject. He says nothing, only offering me a nod this time. He doesn't take my hand.

"Next time you're on your own." He huffs, turning on his heel and walking quickly away from me and back towards the basement. I'm taken aback by the sudden shift in attitude but I bite my tongue. I promised Chris I would do my best to get along with Josh, and I intended to keep it. But damn was it difficult.

Back into the basement, Josh is already sat and smoking. I furrow my eyebrows. Did he have to be high to tolerate my presence? I shake the thought from my head and take my place next to him. He shifts, scooting slightly further away from me. My chest fills with a deep, rumbling anger, and I grip the sides of the couch tightly. I didn't do anything to him.

"You'll be coming, right, Jordan?" Beth asks. I snap out of my thoughts and lean forward to see her over her brother, who stiffens.

"What? Coming to what?" I ask. Beth smiles and rolls her eyes playfully. I can hear Emily snicker and Mike sigh at her in mild frustration, saying her name as if in a warning - again. Chris is watching Josh, his eyes seemingly scanning for something.

"Our parents own a lodge up on a mountain," Hannah answers for Beth. "In the winter we all spend a few days up there. No parents, if you were wondering."

"And you're invited," Beth butts in. "It would be rude of us to talk about it so much in front of you if we didn't plan on taking you along." I'm passed the blunt, but I don't hit it this time. I'm high enough.

"Uh, well, I don't know," I start, chewing at my bottom lip. I glance at Josh, who is staring at me intensely. The sudden eye contact kind of freaks me out. I look at Chris, who shrugs at me, his expression wide eyed and clueless. Emily rolls her eyes, and the twins look at me expectantly. "I... I don't think I would be any fun." My heart pounds. I don't want to spend time trapped on a mountain for days near Joshua Washington. I would expect to wake up one morning with my mattress somehow moved outside as a "joke."

"What? Why?"

"I'm just not a partier." I gulp. I look again at Chris. I can't tell what he's thinking. Does he want me to come? Does he think I'll ruin it for him? For everyone?

I think I would.

"Jordan, please. Just think about it?" Hannah pleads, standing up from her place on the couch to crouch down in front of me like a parent talking to their child. I can feel Josh's gaze boring into me, telling me I'd better not dare to say yes. My eyes snap to his, my head unmoving.

If you come to the lodge I will make your life hell.

The anger in me bubbles and burns to the point of pain, my jaw clenching. I can't help but think about how many times I'd missed out on something because Joshua Washington would be there or even nearby. How many tears have I shed over this asshole? And now what? Now he thought he could control me?

"Jordan?" Hannah repeats. I know she can see the staring battle between Josh and I.

"You know what, Hannah?" I start. Something in Josh's expression changes. The warning is still there, but now there's something else. Shock? Admiration?

"Yeah?" Hannah starts to smile, though there's a hint of nervousness to it. I wonder if regret ever creeped into her head.

Fear?

I don't know. But I know I'm done with agreeing to be put down and pushed around for the comfort of others. If Joshua Washington wanted a battle he sure as hell would get one, though this time there was no winning for him. I'm not laying down anymore. I turn my head so I'm fully facing him. His expression shifts further towards surprise and realization that something was different.

"I'll be there."

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

Whoo!! Sorry for the wait! Thank you for your patience.

Taglist: @sc4rrc @mattymxmo @cellyx33 @jenepleurepasbaby

[milla-frenchy]

911

1k4 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 Summary: you and Joel go out on a rainy night. His protective side turns you on Warnings: 18+ mdni. teasing, footplay, dirty talk, rough sex, piv, oral (m). Light violence (not towards reader). Reader’s hair can be pulled.  No age specified, no outbreak a/n: couple from the 5 days collection. Can be read alone. This is for the April showers challenge by @undercoverpena Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta reading 💕

Series masterlist | Masterlist

***********

You and Joel were having dinner at a restaurant. Night had already fallen, and the rain was painting the city streets in darker shades. While waiting for dessert, you breathed out on the window and drew a heart. You smiled shyly, and Joel thought you were the sweetest woman he had ever met. When you slid your shoeless foot from his calf to his crotch, he thought that you were also the sexiest woman he had ever met.

“We haven’t tested this bathroom yet, Joel,” you said, gently stroking your lip with your index finger. Your shy smile was forgotten, giving way to another kind of smile. Without taking his eyes off you, he grabbed your foot and pressed it against his shaft.

“Nah. Wanna make you scream on my cock tonight. I can’t give it to you good here, baby. Wanna do it right.”

Your pussy clenched, and you tried to squeeze your thighs together to relieve the pressure between them. But he didn’t release your foot, smirking as he saw you grimace in your chair.

The waiter set down your desserts, cutting off the conversation momentarily. You brought the spoon to your mouth, keeping it in longer than necessary.

“Mmm…that’s the best flavor I’ve ever had in my mouth.”

He looked at you, his narrowed eyes glinting.

“Is that right?”

His eyes moved down from yours to your lips, and he pressed your foot tighter against his cock. He grabbed his glass with his free hand and took a sip. It looked tiny between his fingers. And you couldn't help but think about moments when he would push them into your pussy and make you come on them. You tried to calm down as his grin widened. Of course he knew exactly what you were thinking about. You cleared your throat and asked: “are you jealous of a spoon, Mr. Miller?”

“I think I could be jealous of just about anything that comes near you, sweetheart.”

You smiled and took another spoonful.

You walked out of the restaurant and headed towards the parking lot. Joel had his arm around your shoulder, yours was around his waist. The rain started to fall again and you took shelter under a porch of one of the buildings. Joel hugged you and kissed you, his big hands squeezing your ass under your dress. You whined, eager to finally be home and feel his naked body against yours. Two men approached, and one of them said, “nice ass, wanna share?” Joel turned towards them, fists clenched.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

He stood in front of you, interposing himself between you and them. They were young. Early twenties.

“I said," Nice ass, wanna share?”. Are you deaf, man?”

Neither he nor you had time to anticipate what happened next. When Joel punched him, you heard a bone crack and the man knelt on the ground. The one who accompanied him approached, hesitantly.

“Get the fuck outta here, kid. Or I ain’t gonna break just this asshole’s nose.”

The guy looked at his friend and ran away. Joel glanced down at the kneeling man, then back at you. Tilting his chin towards you, asking silently if you were ok. You nodded. Joel looked around, and saw a piece of wood on the ground. He grabbed it, before approaching the young man. He held out his hands and shouted “I’m leaving, I’m leaving!” I'm sorry!!" before getting up and running away too.

Joel dropped the piece of wood and moved closer to you, covered your cheeks with his hands, and asked “are you ok, sweetheart?”

“I…fuck, yeah. I think so. What the fuck is wrong with these guys?!”

He took your hand, and said “yeah, I know baby, but it’s ok now. Come on, we can’t stay here.”

You ran to another street under the heavy rain, and Joel didn't keep his eyes off the surroundings. Finally you arrived at the underground tunnel and stopped at the stairs. You were soaked by the rain.

“Okay, let’s wait here until the rain calms down a bit”, he said.

He held you close, and you couldn’t stop thinking about how he protected you, his cool control of the situation, as if he had never doubted his superiority over them. You kissed him, your tongue sliding between his lips. You pressed yourself against him, and slipped your hand between your two bodies and put it on his crotch.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?” he asked, his piercing gaze searching for yours. You looked up at him and your stare left no doubt about what you desired.

“Fuck…Did that turn you on?”

You nodded, stroking his cock through his jeans. He was already hard.

“Claim me”, you said.

“What? Claim…here?”

“Yeah, fuck me here. Now. I need it.”

He held your chin between his fingers, trying to read you again. Searching for an ounce of hesitation. But there wasn't any. You slipped your hand into your panties and collected your slick on your fingers before showing him your hand. He took your hand in his and licked your fingers. He groaned. “Shit, ok. ‘m gonna fuck you here, if you want it that bad.” 

He turned you around, pinning you against the cold wall of the tunnel. His fingers eagerly unzipped his jeans before releasing his hard cock. He grabbed your hips, pulling them towards him. He pulled up your dress and pushed your panties to the side, before sliding his fingers along your soaked slit. He hissed through his teeth.

“You’re the filthiest girl I’ve ever known.”

He grabbed his cock in his hand and barely slid it between your folds. You held your breath, ready to feel his cock sink into your core. You wanted him to own you. He bottomed out in one go, and your cheek rubbed against the stone.

“Fuckin’...tight,” he grunted. “That’s what you want? Being railed in a tunnel at night?”

“Yes, fuck….”

“I'm sure you'd like someone to catch us here. So that some guy could see you, hear you moan while you're getting fucked. Let him see that you’re fuckin’ mine.”

He grabbed your hair in his tight fist, and started fucking you hard, grunting every time he thrust.

“Answer me.”

“Yeah, you know I’d love that.” His hand released your hair and it slid down along your breasts, down to your panties.

“Yeah...You’re gonna come on it, now. Wanna feel this pussy clenching me.”

His finger rolled over your clit, as his cock kept pounding you.

“Damn, been hard since the restaurant and the show you gave me there. Fuck.”

He fucked you fast and hard, not letting his fingers leave your clit even for a second. His cock was brushing your g-spot continuously, and you felt your orgasm building. This mixture of pleasure and pain, his cock brutally parting your folds every time he thrust in, his fingers on you. He knew for a long time how to make you cum in a few minutes. When you clenched his cock, your moans echoed in the tunnel. 

You pulled away from him and got down on your knees, your dress falling down your thighs.

“Claim me,” you said again, your eyes raised to him.

“Fuck,” he said, quickly jerking his entire length in front of your face. You opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out, waiting. Your eyes were fixed on each other.

“Shit…gonna paint your face.”

He grunted when the first spurts of cum hit your lips, tongue and chin, and he placed his tip on your tongue for the next two spurts. Your eyes were still fixed on him.

He thrust into your mouth, and you felt him twitch again, until he emptied his balls completely. He rested his hand against the wall so as not to lose his balance as you sucked his cock, swallowing his hot load.

“Fuck, baby….” he was trying to catch his breath, while you were keeping his throbbing cock in the warmth of your mouth.

Finally, he grabbed your elbow, helped you up and kissed you, tasting himself on your tongue. You heard the sirens of an ambulance in the distance. He tucked his cock in his pants, took your hand, and you two walked towards the parking lot.

“Told you I wanna make you scream on my cock, tonight. Come on, I’m not done with ya.”

***************

Same couple : 5 days collection

***************

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[greenorangevioletgrass]

give me a minute (1/2) | chef luca

pairing: chef luca x ex-wife!reader word count: 4.7k warnings: established former relationship, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, discussions of separation and divorce, luca and reader has a son, unresolved sexual tension 👀 notes: this fic has been the bane of my existence for the last couple of months or so. it all started as a simple thought of "ooh it would be fun to have a steamy smut with ex!luca" and then it turns into a whole thing with like proper angst and stuff lol. this will be split into two parts, and i think i need encouragement to finish the second part. so please enjoy this first part and tell me what you think! ✨follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass and turn on the notifications to get alerted of my latest fics! ✨

03:49 PM

Everything is fine, you keep telling yourself.

Your soon-to-be ex-husband is flying in from Denmark to finalize the divorce—and even after two years of exhaustive paperwork and mediations and court proceedings, you still don’t know how to feel about this. His visit to New York is meant to be a consolation prize for your six-year-old son Alfie, whose only facetime with his dad lately is through… well, FaceTime. But, given how extraordinarily difficult he’s being—fussing over his breakfast, stalling shower time by a record of 48 minutes, refusing to wear anything you picked out for him… you have an inkling that he might be a little nervous to see his father.

And to make matters worse, it’s raining cats and dogs outside, which delays Luca by two hours now and actively threatens the zoo outing he has planned out for him and Alfie.

So… despite the shitstorm that is happening in your apartment and out, you keep telling yourself that everything is fine.

Because it is. Your home is tidy enough, with all the toys and the mess tucked away in their little cubbies. Your son is dressed up enough; he’s finally put on his pants and shirt, although you missed a button and he won’t let you fix it. The storm is outside, and you’re safely sheltered in. And your relationship with your ex is civil enough, so you feel…

Fine enough.

But the doorman buzzes in, and you can definitely tell the awkwardness in his voice. “Afternoon, Ma’am. I have your husband— I mean, Chef Luca— I mean Mr. Bailey—”

You sigh, not having the energy to let this go on. “Yeah, yeah. Send him up.”

Alfie looks up from his coloring book and practically jumps out of the couch. “My tummy hurts, I’m gonna make a doodie!”

“No running!” You remind him just a second too late, watching him dash over to the bathroom and slamming the door closed. He has a nervous stomach just like you, and as you feel the icky twist in your gut… you can’t help but empathize with his antics today. You would be fucking shit up too, if you only could.

There’s a knock at the door, and you brace yourself as if you’re about to let the storm itself in (although, quite frankly, you probably are). Your hand feels clammy, and you have to wipe it off on your dress before you unlock the door and turn the knob.

“Hey.”

If the storm was a person, you wouldn’t have associated it with the man standing before you. So tall and broad and sturdy. With boyish features and dark blond locks like gentle daylight. It feels like a reach to imagine the seven years of your relationship with him was, indeed, an epic fucking hurricane.

Still. 

You can’t help that you miss him.

“Come on in.” You step aside, not really meeting his gaze.

He murmurs a small thanks and apology, a staple combination in Luca’s British vernacular, as he squeezes in through the door with his duffel bag and suitcase.

“I thought you’d dropped these off at your hotel before you came here.”

“I know. I was going to, but…” he puts down his bags close to the jacket closet, like he always does, “But I got held up for ages and traffic was awful and I didn’t want Alfie to wait even longer, so…”

“Right.” You nod absently. “Well. He’s in the bathroom, should be out in a second, so… have a seat. Do you want anything to drink?”

“Um, water’s fine.” He takes his seat on the dining table.

You’re not sure which one is more jarring; the sheer familiarity of this, or the fact that it isn’t anymore. The two of you just hovering in the home you used to share, courteous but distant.

Luca looks around the place, and notices all the differences right away. You kept the glass dining table and two of the chairs, but changed the corner seating into a plush dining bench against the kitchen island. He recognizes Alfie’s favorite stuffed bunny on the couch, although the throw pillows were new. But he takes one look at the wall… and his heart drops.

Gone are any traces of him in the snapshots of your life. The pictures are all of you and Alfie—eating ice cream in the park, grinning and showing his first lost tooth, dressed up on Halloween… He really shouldn’t be surprised or disappointed to find the wedding portrait gone, or the vacation selfie in Italy four years ago. But it hurts quite a bit to find a generic flower portrait replacing the picture of him kissing you on the forehead while Alfie, laying on your chest, merely hours after his birth.

“Yeah, I…” you clear your throat as you hand him the glass of water, “…did some redecorating.”

“It looks good.” He manages a stiff nod, taking a hesitant swig of water.

“You look…” good, you want to say. Because he is. He’s got that tan and the haircut that reminds you of when you first met him years ago. But you can’t say that. So you settle with, “You look well.”

He meets your eyes, really meets your eyes for the first time, and you try to convince yourself the little flutter you feel inside is just your nervous stomach. But he smiles, soft and earnest. “So do you.”

You turn back and open the fridge, welcoming the cold air and how it cools down the burning warmth on your cheeks. Trying not to freak out and decide what you’re getting, so you don’t look like an idiot. Your hand grabs a can of ginger ale, and you sigh in relief.

“How’s Alfie doing in school?”

“He’s doing alright. He’s enjoying his art classes. Math is still a struggle, but Ms. Rashad says his reading is quite advanced for his age.” You relax a little bit into the conversation. The topic of your son resets you a little bit into a somewhat common ground as co-parents. Plain and simple.

“Definitely takes after you. My dyslexic ass could never.”

You smile at that. Small jokes are still there, always a good sign.

“And the, uh…” he lowers his voice, “the anxiety?”

“Comes and goes. He’s been complaining about a stomach ache all day.” You glance towards the bathroom.

He frowns in concern. “Should we go check on him?”

“Sure…” You walk together with Luca following suit, tentatively knocking at the door. “Alfie? Hey bub, how’s your doodie?” It sounds silly, but you find it helps to ask open questions instead of showing your worries outright.

A flush from inside. “There’s no doodie,” he hollers. His voice is murmured from the barrier, and then the running tap water.

You catch the unease in Luca’s features, and you feel a little bad for him. It wouldn’t feel great that your own son is nervous to see you after many months apart. “You wanna come out, then? Your dad’s here.” You try to sound cheerful and upbeat, hoping it’ll hype them both up.

The two-second gap never felt so long. But the door opens, and there he is, standing meekly against the frame. Staring up at you and then at Luca.

Luca’s heart nearly stops as those big doe eyes stare up at him, a spitting image of you. The same softness. The same spark of stubbornness.

The same vulnerable look.

“Hey, bub.”

“Hi.”

“Can I get a hug?”

There’s a brief pause, before he steps forward and throws his arms around his father’s middle. Luca grunts softly, a little surprised by the sheer force Alfie is hugging him, his heart swelling three times over.

“Oh my God, look at you!” He ruffles the boy’s dark hair and kneels down to level with him. His cherubic face is small cupped in his large hand, but not as small as Luca remembered it. “You’re so tall now!”

“Of course. I’m 3 feet and 8 inches tall now. Right, Mommy?” He proudly announces, getting the exact height completely memorized.

“That’s right,” you confirm with a grin. 

Luca gasps, a smile blooming on his face. “What?”

Alfie nods. “I’m gonna be as tall as you.”

“No! Don’t grow up so fast!” He playfully cries out.

“Why?”

“Because I won’t get to do this anymore!” Luca seizes his boy into his arms and sweeps him off of his bunny-socked feet, sending Alfie into a fit of hysterical giggles.

The sight makes you chuckle, but the feeling could bring Luca to happy tears. He’s been gone for so long, he’s afraid he’d forget how it feels to hold his son in his arms again. Or worse, that his son would find his presence alien.

But he’s here now. With you and the son you share. Attacking Alfie in tickles and noisy kisses, and letting the boy climb him like monkey bars. And it calms his anxious heart a bit as he reminds himself, everything’s fine. 

And as things fall back into place, thunder crashes outside, as if sobering all of you back into reality. Alfie shirks into himself, climbing off of his father’s back. You want to reach out for him so badly, but at the same time, not wanting to interrupt his bonding time with his dad.

“It’s okay, bub. It’s just thunderclap,” Luca soothes emphatically over the sudden silence, bringing Alfie back down to his feet. He smooths his son’s hair gently, comfortingly. “I got you, I got you…”

“Do animals even come out in the rain?” Alfie is back to his withdrawn self, mumbling his words and avoiding Luca’s gaze.

“Some animals actually love playing in the rain,” you chime in helpfully.

Luca keeps his tone cheerful and bright. “Yeah, and you can wear your raincoat and your wellies and I’ll even let you jump in puddles—”

“I don’t wanna do that! I wanna stay home!” He whines, voice raising a little.

“It’s your dad’s time—”

“No!”

“Alfie.” Your tone is firmer now, as he struggles out of his father’s arms and runs to his favorite corner of the couch in the living room, holding his stuffed bunny tight. 

But Alfie’s got a point. This is not the kind of rain where you can take a leisurely stroll in. No, this is the kind where you stay huddled inside and hope it doesn’t flood the streets. Luca takes a thoughtful look at Alfie who is sulking and shrinking from the sound of thunder, at the window completely obscured from rain, and then at you… offering an apologetic smile.

So much for quality time with his son. 

Luca’s heart sinks a little. He sighs in defeat. “Maybe we should just wait it out…”

“Are you sure? I mean, you flew 9 hours to see him—“

“And I don’t want him to be pissed at me the whole time we’re hanging out,” he reasons. “Besides, I don’t think any Uber would take our order at this time.”

It makes sense, you think. As much as you want this awkward little broken family dance to end, you know that staying in and waiting it out is the best option. Alfie would feel much more comfortable at home than in whatever hotel Luca is staying in. And maybe it’s your protective side talking, but if he ever gets fussy, you’d prefer to be around to deal with it.

“Alright, fine.”

“Yeah? Is that okay with you?”

You shrug. The truth is a little more complicated, but ultimately you settle with a simple, “yes.”

Alfie takes a quick glance at you and Luca emerging from the hallway (you have your mother’s side eye, Luca always said), before returning to fiddling his stuffed bunny’s ears (your father’s neutral look of disapproval, you would say). Like clockwork, Luca takes the seat next to Alfie, while you take the puffy stool in front of him.

“That wasn’t very nice of you to raise your voice at me and your dad like that. I get that you’re nervous about the weather—a bit startled, too— but still. We don’t raise our voices in this household.”

Alfie looks at you and Luca. “I’m sorry.”

Luca nods in acknowledgement. “I’m sorry for being late, buddy.” He gingerly reaches out to touch the boy’s hand. “You’re right, though. It might be best to stay in for a bit.” He motions at the rain hammering down on the window outside.

“I told you. I wanna stay at home.”

“I know. And we are for now. We can…” Luca scans around for something to do. His eyes fall on the coloring book and the open box of color pencils next to it. Bingo! “We can… color some drawings in that book?”

He pouts, not entirely sold on the idea but not outright refusing it either. 

“Or, hey, I got some new drawings on me. You can color them, too.” Luca takes off his hoodie and shows off the tattoos on his arms.

God, you forgot about the plethora of trashy tattoos adorning his skin. Even worse, you forgot how it highlights the defined curves of his biceps. Focus, for fuck’s sake! You avert your gaze towards the flower portrait on the wall. 

Alfie perks up a little. “This is my old drawing.” His tiny finger pokes at his forearm, on a tattoo of a stick figure climbing up the stairs. “You still have it?”

“Of course. It’s there forever. I’ll always have it.” Luca finds himself choking up at that simple admission. A little token of childhood of his ever-growing love. “Go on, get your crayons.”

Alfie looks at you as if seeking permission, and it makes you want to laugh that he shares the same animated eyebrows as his father. 

“Go ahead, bub,” you usher him off lightly, and as soon as he’s out of sight, nods at your ex. “Good save.”

Luca half-smiles. “Thanks. You should chill out. Read a book, take a nap or something. I got him.”

“What, are you trying to kick me out?”

“No, I just—”

Your smile breaks out. “I’m kidding! Go hang out with Alf. I got a Zoom meeting in a few minutes anyway.”

He sighs in relief, chuckling lightly. “You almost got me there…”

You briefly pat his shoulder and for an even briefer moment, his hand is atop yours. The big ‘A’ tattoo on the back of his hand—your son’s initial in a bold Gothic letter— serves as a reminder of what’s past; a whirlwind romance, the wild days of being a family of a merry band of misfits…

Misfits. That’s the biggest takeaway here, you suppose. Your pieces don’t quite fit right. Not without little Alfie gluing you together. 

With a final squeeze on Luca’s shoulder, you make your way to your bedroom, making space for Luca’s puzzle pieces to fit with Alfie’s because they don’t fit yours anymore.

***

05:04 PM

By the time your Zoom meeting ends, the pelting rain outside is louder and the chatter inside is nearly inaudible. It feels nice for about ten seconds… until you remember that you have a six-year-old at home and long bouts of silence can be quite… well, suspicious. You pad out into the hallway to check on him.

“Let’s see. You wanna do the sunflower next? What do you think, my love?”

Oh right. For a moment, you forgot that the thirty-year-old other parent is here with him.

Luca has his t-shirt sleeves hiked all the way up, biceps in full display as Alfie colors in a tattoo on the back part of his upper arm. The boy’s tongue sticks out and his eyebrows furrow in focus. It seems like a delicate operation between them, so you linger out of sight for just a while longer.

“Why do you like sunflowers, Dad?”

The two of you have always supported his inquisitive mind, and he missed these kinds of questions most of all. Even if the answers can be a little complicated. “Because of your mum, actually.”

“You like it because Mommy likes it?” Alfie’s little nose crinkles.

Luca chuckles in amusement, sensing the judgment in his son’s tone. Damn you guys for teaching Alfie not to get carried away by trends. “Well… when your mum and I first met, it was winter in Chicago and it’s pretty bleak and gloomy and freezing. But, your mum had a little sunflower by the window—just like that one.” He glances at the little potted sunflower on the windowsill. “She said it’s a reminder to let the sun shine in. I thought it was adorable. We started doing that everywhere we lived and… I don’t know, it reminds me of home.”

“Do you have a sunflower by your window, Dad?”

His heart catches as he realizes the answer. “No, I don’t…”

“Why? You don’t miss home?”

There’s a sharp pang of hurt in hearing that innocent query. The apartment in Copenhagen, as nice as it is, has never been much of a home for Luca. He would get up before the sun is up and return from work late at night—lather, rinse and repeat. On his days off, he would either go on a morning run and spend much of his time outside, or sleep til noon and live on instant ramen and takeout. There’s no time for a sunflower by the window. No room. He made sure of that.

He doesn’t deserve one after leaving his wife and son for fucking Noma. 

Luca swallows back the lump in his throat, although the slight waver in his voice gives him away. “I got my sunflower right here, bub. My little piece of home.” He taps on his arm softly as his son finishes up. 

Alfie hums, pleased with how the tattoo looks, now filled in with yellow and black and brown crayons. “I think this is my favorite one.”

“Yeah? Not the tabasco?” Luca grins, looking down at his forearm—specifically at the mostly accurate red and green of the hot sauce bottle.

“No…” Alfie taps his chin with his finger thoughtfully. “This one is prettier.”

Luca maneuvers around to look at the sunflower tattoo a little better. “You’re right, it is much prettier. Maybe I should get the colors in permanently, huh?”

The boy’s face lights up. “Can you?”

“Yeah. I think I will. Nice job, my little tattoo artist.” Luca pulls him into a bear hug and kisses the top of Alfie’s head. 

You can’t help but chuckle, glad to see them bonding again, lost in your thoughts for a moment.

“Mommy! Dad says I can be a tattoo artist!” Alfie snaps you out of your reverie.

“Is that right?” Your eyebrows shoot up, struggling to maintain a neutral expression while staring at Luca like with all due respect, what the fuck?

He raises his hands in surrender. “I just said he’s my little tattoo artist, that’s all.”

“I colored in all of Dad’s tattoos! Look!” Alfie tugs at his dad’s arm, beaming as he shows off his work.

You step forward, studying the results of the tattoo makeover. Every single tattoo is colored in; some accurately, like the sunflower and tabasco, while others (like the purple fish and chips and blue scotch bonnet)… not so much. You don’t know which one’s more amusing; your son’s artistic style, or your ex’s bashful look as he models the art works on his arms. 

“Looks great, bub. Well done!” You ruffle Alfie’s hair, enjoying his improved mood.

“Can I watch Bluey now?”

You purse your lips comically. “I don’t know, bub. Why don’t you look at your checklist on the fridge and see if you can?”

Alfie bounds past you, towards the fridge, and reads the checklist out loud to himself. “Have you… brushed your teeth? Yes. Brushed your hair? Yes…” He flattens his wavy locks with the palm of his hand, continues reading with a lower murmur. “Mommy, I did everything except tidy up my room and play outside for 30 minutes!”

“Okay. Obviously we can’t play outside, so… why don’t you just go clean your room and I’ll let you watch Bluey for a bit?”

Alfie gamely nods and goes into his bedroom, his bunny socks muting his footsteps against the hardwood floor.

Meanwhile, it takes you an extra beat to realize how close you’re standing with Luca without your child between you. He rolls down the sleeves of his black t-shirt sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Your meeting went okay?”

“It’s alright.” You look at literally anything but the man in front of you, ultimately stopping at your potted sunflower by the windowsill. “That storm out there, on the other hand…”

“Yeah…”

You take an inconspicuous look at the hallway, making sure your son is out of earshot. “Weather reports say it might last a few more hours.”

Luca huffs, trying not to stress out about the possibility of street floods. Of all the things he missed, New York thunderstorms are not one of them. Still, this shitty weather has granted him some time with his son, at his former home… with his former spouse. And God, does he miss this more than he dreads the weather…

“Want me to make you guys dinner?” He offers earnestly.

You pull back, returning to your normal volume. “Oh. No, you don’t have to—”

“I don’t mind. Really. Might as well, right?”

You hear heavy footsteps from the bedroom and Alfie hollers from the hallway. “I’m all done!”

“Don’t forget your crayons!”

Alfie promptly makes a beeline towards his leftover mess. “Heard, Mommy.” He hurriedly puts his crayons back in the box and rushes into his room to put it away. Returning mere moments later with a newfound spring in his steps. “I’m done for real! Now can I please watch Bluey now?”

“I can cook while he gets his screen time.”

The two boys look at you with their best puppy eyes, and it’s the most disarming thing you’ve seen in a while—and the resemblance between them only makes things worse. You playfully roll your eyes in relent. “Alright, alright. Go ahead. Watch your TV and make your dinner.”

There’s a quiet little yesss from Alfie as Luca low-fives him before they scatter, one to the living room and the other to the kitchen. For a moment, you feel like you were transported back in time. For the first time in over two years, you’re caught between cartoon sounds from the TV and the kitchen alive again. All was well in the household. 

“Is he still a picky eater?” Luca mouths the last two words inaudibly.

You raise your eyebrows in confirmation. “All he wants to eat is chicken nuggies.”

“I can do chicken nuggies,” he shrugs easily, rummaging through the freezer and takes out a pack of chicken breasts. “Or some version of that.”

Upon overhearing the key word, Alfie’s head all but whips toward Luca. “We’re having chicken nuggies for dinner?”

“Er, kind of.”

“Can I help?” He perks up from the back of the couch, excitement bubbling over.

Luca smiles apologetically. “Maybe later, my love. Daddy’s gonna be using a big knife…” he says as he checks the blade closely, swiping it with his thumb. “…which is dull, by the way. When was the last time you sharpened this?”

“I… have no idea.” You frown. You don’t even remember sharpening any knives… ever. Meanwhile, Luca simply rummages through the kitchen drawer, which makes you ask, “What are you doing?”

“I’m sharpening it,” he states matter-of-factly, already setting up a makeshift sharpening station which… what?

“Didn’t even know we had that,” you murmur plainly as you watch him work. Taking out a block of whetstone from the drawer (where did that even come from?) and running it under the sink. Laying out a kitchen rag and the stone on top of it.

He chuckles a little, scraping the blade against the stone at an angle, firmly but carefully. “Can’t leave you good Santoku knives without the proper sharpening tools, right?”

“You never taught me how to do it, though.”

“Yes, I have.”

“No, you haven’t.”

“What are you talking about? Back in Chicago, I—”

You burst out laughing. “Oh my God, that was one time forever ago! And you never let me sharpen the knives. You literally always do it.”

He pauses, grinning bashfully. “Fair…”

For the umpteenth time that day, Luca’s heart catches—this time from hearing you laugh. Your warm voice rings so pleasantly in his ears, and the way your face lights up… he almost forgets there’s a storm outside, because he’s got a lovely summer day right here in front of him.

And honestly, what is beautiful sunny Copenhagen compared to this warmth of the two people he loves the most?

“Alright, alright. You want a refresher? Come here.”

You gingerly take the place next to him, arms crossed so as to not invade his space. Neither of you say anything when your shoulders brush against each other. It’s brief, painstakingly so, but eerily familiar. You wouldn’t admit that you want to stay pressed against him a little longer, but… you do.

“Okay, so. You see this bit right here?” His finger runs up the line where the blade flattens into the edge. “Rest the knife on the stone on this angle, start from the heel—near the handle— and just… bring it in,” he demonstrates the inward sliding motion—short and precise and repetitive, “and work your way up to the tip.”

You silently watch him work for a moment, handling the knife. Firm and steady, but not harsh. On the contrary, it’s almost… delicate. You’ve seen many chefs work in your lifetime, but no one is as composed or stoic (or handsome, but that is beside the point) as Luca. It’s quite fascinating. 

“And you do this on both sides, right?” You vaguely recall.

“Good memory.” He nods appreciatively. “Some people like to do each side one at a time, back and forth, but I like to do one side, get that burr forming…”

“What’s a burr, sir?”

Luca chuckles at your little Hamilton reference. “So when you work on this side, you’ll feel a nice little rough bit forming on the other side like this.” He slides his thumb from the knife’s spine to the edge and carefully guides your hand through the motion. “Feel that?“

Yes. That should be an easy enough answer, because yes, you do feel the rough edge of the excess metal on the blade. But it’s a bit hard to focus on that when you’re more fixated on the rough calluses of his fingertips instead…

In theory, playing a knife with your almost ex-husband is as bad as a bad idea can get. In practice, though… Having your hand in his again, feeling him so close to you, smelling his perfume…

“That’s the burr. Once you get it on one side, you can switch over to the other side and balance it out.” His voice is lower now. Softer. “And you just… do it over and over again until you’ve worked off the burr and have a smooth and sharp blade.”

Luca switches the knife to your other hand and stands behind you, hoping to God you can’t feel his pounding heart as his chest presses against your back. Gently guiding you through the sharpening motion—the firm, steady, angled scraping of the blade towards you. You swear to God, every pull brings him just a tad closer.

“So you basically have to break the knife a little to fix it?” 

“That’s basically it, yeah.”

The storm feels miles away. His hands are still curled against yours. His chest flush against your back. His body heat emanates from within him and shrouds you like your favorite cardigan.

“Listen, I—”

“Thanks… for the refresher.” And with that, you put the knife down on the kitchen rag and pull away.

It takes him an extra second to snap out of it and step back to make way for you as you retreat back into your bedroom. “Yeah, yeah. No problem.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck your fucking life to hell.

***

if you've reached the end of this page, thank you so much for reading! do tell me what you think, reblog, send me asks, thoughts, ANYTHING. i would LOVE to hear your opinion!!!

[yizmiu]

i’m not sure if you do requests but i was wondering if i could request enhypen boyfriend sunghoon fic where sunghoon goes from not caring at all for cats to becoming the proudest cat dad you could ever imagine when his girlfriend brings home a cat out of no where.

ི꒰͡ ໋. kitty-incident!

𓏸 ͘ ࣭⸰ ‎inwhich. sunghoon doesn’t understand his girlfriends love for cats but after she suddenly brought one home he’s kind of forced too…

𓏸 ͘ ࣭⸰ ‎࣪genre. fluff, sunghoon x f!reader, dog person sunghoon, cat person reader

𓏸 ͘ ࣭⸰ ‎word count. 1k+

ᯇ ೀ jayjay’s note; hiii so sorry for the long wait, i was having trouble finding out on how i should write this! it’s a mix of smau and a drabble!

Sunghoon sighed, staring at the little kitten on the floor next to his feet. Y/n, his girlfriend had impulsively bought the kitten home from a shelter without even telling him she was doing so. It’s not like Sunghoon hated cats, he was just more of a dog person.

Now, he was just told he had to watch the kitten for a couple hours. “You’re cute, but I’m still mad at you for scratching our couches. I can’t believe your mom just showed up with you and didn’t tell me.” Sunghoon glared at the cat as he spoke.

The kitten, named Yureum (chosen by the both of them) could sense Sunghoon’s passive aggressive energy from the day he entered the house. Since then he’s been acting like a little asshole to him, tearing up the furniture, knocking down Sunghoon’s things, and walking over the keyboard while he was trying to work.

Sunghoon rarely pet his ‘child’ because Yureum always made sure to nip and scratch at him out of spite. So when he suddenly started purring and rubbing against Sunghoon’s leg he was surprised.

Sunghoon figured he needed more attention, and he started to feel bad so he shut his laptop, taking a break from his work to sit on the couch with Yureum following behind.

“C’mon” Sunghoon said as he picked the kitten up with both hands, placing him on his lap. “You’re so cute, if only you weren’t a little jerk to me.” Sunghoon sighed as he gently caressed him.

Sunghoon yawned as he placed Yureum next to his head as he laid down, getting sleepy. “I’m gonna take a little nap, your mom should be home in 15 minutes.” He said as his voice started to slur.

Yureum stared at the sleeping figure in front of him for a little, a little tired himself so he snuggled up against his owner. Fitting perfectly in the gap between his chest and arms.

Sunghoon heard flashes and clicks as he began to wake up from his sleep, opening his eyes to see his girlfriend taking photos of him. “What are you doing?” He said groggily. “Look! You and Yureum.” Y/n shoved the phone in her boyfriend's face.

“Y/n—Achoo!” Sunghoon cut himself off with a sneeze. “Are you okay, baby? You’ve been sneezing a lot.” Y/n asks in concern as she hands her boyfriend a tissue.

“What if I've developed an allergy to cats? Yureum has been clingy to me recently, what if the little shit got me sick.” Sunghoon suggested. “I know you don’t like him much but what kind of excuse is that? I mean it could be possible though…” Y/n lost the train of thought thinking about the possibility. “He just loves you a lot, he cuddles with you a night more than me.” She pouted as she crossed her arms against her chest.

“I kind of wish he didn’t…I just have been getting itchy around him a lot.”

“I can make an appointment for you later today, just take some of my allergy pills and you’ll be okay.” Y/n said as she walked over to the kitchen to fetch her allergy pills. She herself was allergic to cats but she didn’t mind.

Turns out, Sunghoon really was allergic to cats. He tried to keep his distance after learning so. He doesn’t know how Y/n deals with it.

But It was hard when the damn cat was always by Sunghoon’s side. When he was sleeping, when he was working, hell even when he was in the bathroom. He followed him everywhere.

“Yureum! Seriously, I’m just getting up to get water.” Sunghoon groaned as the cat purposefully stuck himself to his owner by digging his claws into Sunghoon’s knitted sweater. “Don’t follow me.” He said firmly, placing the cat down after detaching it from him.

Yureum sat and stared at his owner as he walked away, deciding to ignore his wishes and follow him anyway.

“Oh my god! Yureum, I almost stepped on you.” Hoon complained as he looked at the cat that was now by his feet. “You have food and water, I was just petting you, what more could you want?” Hoon asked the cat. He looked crazy right now, he’s talking to a cat.

Yureum’s head slightly turned to the right. Taking little steps to get to his ankles, purring against them softly.

Sunghoon sighed as he picked his cat up. “God, I’m surprised I’m not dead already.” He carried the cat to the shared bedroom between him and his girlfriend.

“Are we out of allergy pills?” Y/n asked, looking up from her laptop. She was currently working on a project for work and wanted some alone time.

“Almost. I’m tired and I can tell Yureum is too.” He set the cat down before he laid himself on the bed next to Y/n. “He keeps following me everywhere, I don’t know why. He’s your cat. I’m more like his babysitter.” He sighed.

Y/n gasps. “He is our son…and it’s because he likes you, Hoon. More than me actually…it’s kind of surprising.” Y/n shrugged her shoulders, “See.” She pointed out as the cat was currently cuddling up to Sunghoon and not her.

“Hoon! I know you’ve been tired a lot recently and you’ve been wanting a break from Yureum so I got someone else to watch him! You can go and hang with the guys tonight.” Y/n said as soon as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

Sunghoon spit out the toothpaste in his mouth into the sink. “Who is it?” He asked as he put his toothbrush away. Y/n unwrapped her arms, grabbing the hairbrush on the bathroom counter. “It’s one of my coworkers, he said he loves cats and he has a day off today so he agreed to watch him.” She gently brushed her hair as she looked at the man in the mirror.

“Yes, but who?” Sunghoon’s eyebrows slightly furrowed. “Doyoon.” Y/n said hesitantly.

Sunghoon’s eyes slightly lit up, he knew he was the said coworker. “Actually, the guys aren’t going out today. I can watch Yureum.” He said nonchalantly.

Even though Sunghoon could use his day off to hang with his friends he still decided to look after their cat every single saturday. Purely because he doesn’t want Kim Doyoon, who has a massive crush on his girl, to look after their cat. In bold their cat.

enhypen m.list — enhypen taglist (open) : @yenqa

[delilahsturniolo]

⟡ ݁₊ welcome to the end of the world! (please leave your sanity at the door.)

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 . . . four friends: nick, matt, chris, and you—find themselves stuck together at the end of the world, trying to survive a zombie apocalypse with nothing but their wits, a questionable supply of snacks, and zero emotional maturity. you’re just trying to stay alive without losing your mind—or falling for someone on the team.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 . . . none!

EPILOGUE: AFTER THE STORM

read other parts here!

it’s been a year.

the world doesn’t look the same anymore. not even close. the landscape has changed, twisted by the chaos, by the storms of the apocalypse, and by the hands of those who tried, and failed to survive. but in the ruins, there’s something else growing. something stronger than the fear that once gripped you all. the bunker has turned into more than just a shelter. it’s become home. a home built from blood, sweat, and tears. but a home, all the same. matt and you rebuilt it, piece by piece. the others? they each found their role.

nick’s the scout. never strays too far, but always brings back something useful. sometimes, he comes back with nothing. sometimes, he comes back with enough to last weeks. he’s unpredictable. but you’ve learned to trust him.

chris? he’s a fighter. the one who keeps the peace when things get tense, but also the first one to jump into action when the horde gets too close. and now, he’s also found a strange sense of responsibility to lieutenant whiskers, who follows him around like a shadow.

lana is the one who changed the most. once, she was just a scared child holding a key that would change everything. now? she’s a fighter in her own right. smart, fearless, and surprisingly capable of holding her own against any threat that comes her way. she’s learned the way of this world and, in doing so, taught you all how to adapt.

and then, there’s you and matt.

you never stop fighting for each other. never stop loving each other, even when it feels like the world is stacked against you. when the days get dark and you start to lose hope, it’s matt’s hand in yours that keeps you grounded. and you do the same for him. you’ve seen him at his worst. and at his best. but now, the best feels like this, together. alive.

the little victories are what keep you going. today, you found a clean water source. tomorrow, you’ll figure out what to do with the extra food. every day, it’s about survival, but also, something else.

hope.

you and matt walk side by side, hands clasped, the silence between you more comfortable than it’s ever been. “do you ever think about the world before?” you ask. “all the time,” he says quietly. “but not in a way that hurts anymore. just… wondering.”

“wondering what?”

“if we can make it better this time.”

you stop walking. turn to him. “do you think we can?” he pulls you in close. brushes a strand of hair from your face. “maybe not all of it. but we’ll start with what we have.” you smile, leaning against him. “and what do we have?” he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“each other.”

and in that moment, the world is a little less broken. a little less cold. because you know, deep down, that you’ve found something worth fighting for, something that will keep you alive long after the storm has passed.

and whatever comes next, you’ll face it together.

welcome to the end of the world, things can get pretty chaotic here. try not to fall in love,—oh wait…you already did. it’s the end of the world after all

© delilahsturniolo

💌: wowowwow hiii!! i can’t believe this series has come to an end! i literally feel like i actually lived this whole thing and i was so sad writing this :( this was such a change from what i usually write, i decided to be more creative and add some of my own humor and comedic twists into this so thank you all for being so supportive and letting me experiment!! i seriously hope you guys enjoyed this just as much as i did, i love you all so so much, lemme know if you’d like a spinoff of some sort in the future? 😉

xoxo, delilah.

[lynzishell]

Prev // Next

Transcript below the cut:

Asher: The first person I’m hiring is going to be a social media manager. The livestream will be fun, but keeping up on the rest is such a time suck. Atlas: I need real testers. Waiting for our friends to send me feedback and bug reports in their spare time is killing me.

Asher: Not exactly what I imagined our top priorities would be. Atlas: [chuckles] Me neither. Asher: It’s wild, though, people are actually starting to get excited, and we haven’t even announced the release date yet. If this game does as well as I think it will, we are gonna need to lease office space and hire a team.

Atlas: I know. It’s starting to feel very real, and I don’t know the first thing about running a business. Asher: Me neither. We’re gonna need to bring someone in that knows what they’re doing. Atlas: We’re going to need so many people. Especially if we’re going to be raising twins at the same time.

Asher: Jesus, we’re never gonna sleep again. Atlas: [laughing] What have we gotten ourselves into? Asher: [laughing] I don’t know. We’re so fucked.

Iris: Ash, will you come take a walk with me? Asher: I can’t, I’m busy.

Iris: You said you were taking the weekend off. Asher: We are, we’re just talking. Iris: Well, come on then, I need to talk to you. Asher: It’ll have to wait. I’m meeting Phoenix at the shelter, he’s already on his way.

Iris: You’re getting a dog? Asher: No, Phoenix is. I’m just helping. Iris: You’re delusional if you think you’ll be able to go to the shelter and not bring a dog home.

Atlas: That’s what I said. That’s why I’m going with him. Iris: Well, good luck to you. Just make sure Spencer knows it’s not staying here after you move. She’ll get attached. Asher: We’re not getting a dog.

Iris: Delusional!

Asher: [groans dramatically] I can’t take it anymore. We really need our own place. Atlas: I’m honestly surprised you broke first. Asher: I’m not. We need to move. Like, tomorrow.

Atlas: With what money? Asher: How much do you think I could get for a kidney? Atlas: [laughs] Asher: It’s not funny. I’m that desperate.

Atlas: I know what will make you feel better. Asher: What? Atlas: A dog.

Asher: [smiles] Don’t say that unless you mean it.

Atlas: Come on, let’s go.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Drives Me Crazy

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: You and Spencer fall into a routine when he walks you home after every shift. Then one day, a storm makes you invite Spencer up to your place where feelings are confessed over alcohol and dim lighting.

Square Filled: habits and routines for @genprompt-bingo (dreamwidth bingo)

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

What you do is rewarding. You love coming to work knowing you get to be surrounded by such loving dogs and cats who don’t have homes. Despite what people might think about shelter animals, they’re so loving and very kind. Once in a while, you’ll get an animal who is so scared that they’ll bite and attack, but you have people here to deal with those kinds of animals.

Not you. You only deal with the ones who love to play fetch and tug-a-war. The ones that love belly scratches and cuddles. Right now, you’re giving one of the new recruits a bath in the back. He’s a shaggy-haired dog who seems to think that bath time is playtime. To keep you safe, you have to hook their collar to the back wall so that they don’t jump out, but that doesn’t seem to stop this dog from trying.

“Pip, what are you doing? Come on, stay still,” you say to the dog as if he could respond to you.

You grab the shampoo and squirt it all over his back. You have brush gloves on so that you can scrub and rub at the same time, so that’s what you try to do. As soon as you touch his back, he jerks and barks happily. He thinks you want to play which brings a smile to your face.

“Pip, I have to get you clean. Then, we can play. I promise.”

He calms down enough to let you lather him up with soap, but he’s not so calm when the water comes out. You try to spray him down as much as you can but he starts to shake the suds off. Soap goes everywhere, and you squeal when it splashes all over you.

“Y/N?” You look back at your coworker. “There’s a Spencer Reid to see you.”

Shit, is it that time already? You look at the clock and confirm that indeed, it’s time to go home.

“Can you finish up here? I don’t want to keep him waiting.”

“Sure.”

“Bye, Pip. See you tomorrow, big guy.” He barks out a goodbye and shakes for your coworker. “Good luck!”

You head to the locker room and change out of your soaked clothes to change into your normal ones. It’s always a good idea to wear some kind of scrubs here due to the shit, piss, and other fluids you get on your job. All of them come from animals. You grab your bag and sling it over your shoulder before going to the lobby. Spencer waits there patiently, scrolling on his phone to pass the time.

“Spencer, hi,” you grin.

“Y/N,” he smiles. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah.” You two leave the shelter and start the walk to your apartment. “How was work? Tell me about your day.”

“I can’t give too much away about the unsub we’re trying to find. It’s still an open investigation.”

“Tell me something else, then. How is the team doing?”

“JJ is pregnant again.”

“That’s awesome! Good for her!”

“Yeah, she’s happy. Tell me about your day. I want to hear everything,” he smiles.

“Well, three new dogs came in today. One of them, poor baby, was so scared. We had to give her to the guy who deals with aggressive dogs. I know she’ll be a sweetheart in no time. Two got adopted today, which is amazing. I tried giving Pip a bath, but he thought it was playtime. I think I still have soap in my hair,” you chuckle. “I had a good time.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear it.”

The walk to your apartment isn’t long, so you’re there before you know it. You stop outside the steps leading to your building and turn to Spencer.

“Thank you for walking me again.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Same time tomorrow?”

“Do you have any doubt?”

“No, I don’t,” you smile. “Goodnight, Spencer.”

Spencer waits for you to head inside your apartment building before heading to his own. The first time you met Spencer was when you were on the bus heading to work. You were late and didn't want to walk that day so you thought the bus would be faster. Spencer decided to take the same bus that morning, and the only open seat was next to him.

Due to traffic, you two were able to have a bit more time to chat. By the time you got to your work, you realized how much fun it was talking to Spencer. Luck would have it that the next day, he was taking the bus again. It turns out he took it in hopes that you would take it, and you took it in hopes that he would take it.

You don’t own a car so when he found out you were walking home every day after work, he decided that would be the day he would walk with you. He’s seen too much shit to let you walk home alone, especially after it got dark.

It’s become your routine now.

The next day when you get off work, Spencer is waiting in the lobby scrolling on his phone to pass the time. This time, he has a coffee in hand for you. It’s the end of the day, but you’ll never turn down a coffee.

“Thank you, Spencer,” you grin and take the coffee from him.

“It’s decaf so you won’t be up all night.”

“Smart,” you chuckle. “How was your day?”

“Still the same. Garcia came to me and told me she was looking to get a dog. Instead of going to the pet store, I told her about the loving dogs you have here.”

You gasp happily and grab his arm. “That’s so much better. We have such loving dogs here that are just looking for a home.”

“She’ll be by this weekend.”

“Awesome! I’ll take such good care of her.” You lean up and kiss his cheek. “Thank you for recommending me.” You stop outside your apartment building. “Give her my number, okay?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye, Spencer.”

Well after you’re already in your building, Spencer is still standing outside of it. He touches the spot where you kissed his cheek, unable to ignore how tingly it made him. He smiles and heads back to his place with you on his mind the entire time.

Like Spencer said, Penelope walks into your job on Saturday morning, eager to look at what you have available.

“Are you Y/N?” she asks when you greet her.

“Yes. You must be Penelope. Spencer’s told me so much about you.”

“And he won’t shut up about you.” You blush. “Don’t look so bashful. That boy is head over heels for you.”

“No, he’s not. He’s just being nice. He’s a friend.”

“Not from where I stand,” she grins. “So, I hear you have some dogs for me to look at?”

“Yes, right this way.”

Spencer didn’t let up. He is always there when you get off work whether it’s day or night, cloudy, windy, cold, or hot. Storm season is upon Virginia, so the rain comes before you’re prepared for it. It’s so strong that you can hear the water pelt the roof of the shelter. Now is when you regret not having a car.

You grab your things and walk to the lobby, not expecting Spencer to be there. It’s pouring rain outside and he’s still waiting for you as if that’s supposed to deter him. He smiles widely when he sees you, and he holds up the closed umbrella.

“Is that going to fit both of us?”

“I’ll make it work.”

You two don’t talk much on the way home because all you’re focused on it trying to keep the rain off you. Spencer keeps the umbrella mostly on you so he’s drenched by the time you reach your apartment.

“I don’t want you catching a cold. Come inside, please. Wait until the rain stops.”

“I’m okay. My apartment isn’t far from here.”

You reach out and grab his elbow. “Come on. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Spencer has never seen the inside of your place since meeting you, so he’s kind of nervous for himself. He’s not very good when it comes to romance or women. In fact, he’s quite awkward at it. He doesn’t expect anything from you except maybe a towel to dry off, but you have other plans for him.

“Wait right here,” you say before disappearing into your bedroom. You return with a shirt and sweats. “These were my brothers. Change out of your clothes. I’ll wash them.”

“Um…”

“What? The bathroom is next to my bedroom. You’re going to catch a cold. You do so much for me. Let me do this for you.”

“Okay,” he nods.

He takes the clothes and heads to the bathroom. He leaves ten minutes later with his wet clothes in hand. You, having changed when he was, take both yours and his clothes to the washer. After putting a light load on, you join Spencer in the living room.

“Would you like something to drink? I have wine if you want to share it with me.”

Alcohol is bad. He doesn’t want you to feel like he’s taking advantage of you, but he’s also not objecting to it. He’d never do anything that makes you uncomfortable. One glass wouldn’t be so bad, right?

“Sure. One glass won’t hurt.”

You open a brand new bottle of wine and pour two glasses, bringing them to him in the living room. The storm outside doesn't look like it’s getting any better. It might go on all night. It’s a good thing you have a guest room. You turn the lamp on, giving a dim glow around you two. It’s all very romantic.

“You know, you don’t have to walk me home every day, right?”

Spencer shrugs and takes a small sip of wine. “I want to.”

“Why?”

Whether Spencer notices or not, he scoots closer to you so that his knee touches yours. “I work with murderers and bad people. I know how much can change in a matter of seconds. I don’t want anything happening to you. I might be lanky but I know how to fight.”

You rest your arm across the back of the couch, your fingers barely brushing against his shoulder. “You’re not lanky. You’re pretty.”

He laughs. “Thank you. You’re pretty, too.” He sets his glass of wine on the coffee table and seemingly sits closer to you. You pretend not to notice but you do. “Plus, the idea of something happening to you drives me crazy. The thought of not hearing about your day drives me crazy. The idea of someone else walking you home drives me crazy.”

“What?” you whisper.

Spencer looks at your lips which look so kissable in the dim lighting. They always look kissable but he has the courage now. Maybe it was the one sip of wine had or maybe he’s done pretending like there isn’t something between you two.

“I’m gonna kiss you now to show you just how crazy you drive me.”

He leans in closer but you don’t move an inch. You could stop him but you’ve been thinking about kissing him since you two met. His lips touch yours, a test kiss. A soft and tender kiss to test the waters. When you show no sign of rejecting him, he slides his hand in your hair and presses his lips harder against yours.

You open your mouth to him and he slides his tongue in. For someone who is awkward with romance, he sure does know how to kiss. Even after the rain stops and his clothes are dried, he doesn't leave. In fact, he doesn’t leave until the very next morning.

x

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