#two of their braincells make one...or is it half

[whatifitis]

♡ to build a home - LN 4 ♡

Summary: You're beginning to build a life with Lando. One of the steps you were excited for the most was building a home with him. So when it's time to finally start furnishing the house... let's just say we're glad everyone got to keep their fingers.

WC: 950

CW: fluff, two idiots in love trying to use their shared braincell..., not proofread

-=+=-

It’s finally time! A chapter in your life you were waiting for for so long. Not just building a life with your favorite person, but building a home with them too. You and Lando recently bought a home together and were excited to finally decorate it after having renovated it yourselves. 

The two of you (mainly just you) spent ages on pinterest and various furniture websites, trying to put together an aesthetically pleasing home that could also make the environment feel homey and warm, something Lando had lived without for so long, well, at least until you joined his life. From the day you’d met, his life suddenly seemed brighter and warmer, like he’d been living in a plain, grey world prior. 

After some conflicts and adjustments to the mood board, you both had settled on some furniture that you both loved. Some things were ordered to the house while the others were picked up in the store by you and Lando. Lando, of course, insisted on helping because 1. It could be some nice bonding time since he’s away a lot and 2. He’s a “Big strong man” who can help you carry everything… In other words, he was afraid another man would come to your rescue and steal you away. But that would never happen. 

As you awaited everything you’d ordered, your home still only held a mattress, Lando’s gaming set up and boxes that were filled with various objects. One of those boxes held your collection of books. Your collection grew through the years as you got older, the collection expanding a lot quicker since you and Lan had started dating. Everytime he traveled without you, he would stop by a bookstore and get you a book. Whether it be a special edition of a book or just something he thought you’d like, he always came back with one to add to your collection. 

“Baby.” Lando called to you, jumping onto the mattress where you laid. 

“Baby.” you reply. 

“I was thinking-”

Sitting up fast and gasping, “You can do that?”

Lando’s jaw dropped, “Rude?! You know what? Nevermind.” begins to stand up to walk away, hiding a smile. 

“No! Come on, baby. I was joking. Tell me what you were thinking.” you say, pulling his arm so that he falls over top of you on the bed. 

“Fine. Only cause I love you so much.” the man says, receiving several kisses from you that scatter his face. 

“I love you too. Now, tell me.”

“Do you wanna go to ikea? I know we ordered most of the furniture or we’re going to some stores in person but we need to get some bookshelves for your books. We can get to building them today and putting away the books.” he says, moving to stand, “That way we can clear a few boxes and we’ll have more room for activities.” he says as he pranced around the room, twirling in the air as if he was a dancer. 

You laugh at the show before you, being eternally grateful for his existence and the chaos he brings with him, “That sounds amazing, Lan. We can go now. That way we’re not up late trying to put together the bookshelves.” 

“How hard can putting together bookshelves be?”

-=+=-

Lando and you took the opportunity to enjoy the day to the fullest. The sun was out so you guys drove with the windows down, blasting some Taylor Swift and singing your hearts out to each other. 

Although the drive was fun, the same can’t be said for the adventure in Ikea… The two of you got lost for 5 hours inside of the Ikea. And don’t ask how, cause not even God knows how the two of you got lost, though it might have to do with the fact that you guys share a brain cell…

Eventually, with the help of an Ikea employee, the two of you made it out to the other side, half tempted to kiss the ground once you saw the sun again. 

-=+=-

Finally, after a stop at Mcdonalds for some dinner, the two of you were safe and sound at home, cutting open the boxes that contained the pieces of wood to build the bookshelves. As Lando was unboxing the pieces, he began throwing things about, not paying any mind to what was going where. 

“Lan, calm down. We’re gonna lose the instructions if you keep doing that.” 

“Pish posh. Who needs instructions for bookshelves? It’s easy. I built that desk myself with no instructions.” he says, pointing to the desk that holds his gaming set up… the most basic table to have ever existed. 

You put your hands on your hips as you exhale loudly, “Lan, that table has 5 pieces total…”

“And? I still did it. Ya know why? Cause I’m super smart and super strong. I don’t need the instructions… Now… where do we start…?” he says as he rests his hands on his hips, squinting as the mess of screws and panels of wood he scattered on the floor. 

-=+=-

Building a bookshelf was NOT as easy and Lando claimed it would be. Not only were the instructions missing, but Lando kept insisting he didn’t need them. You tried to help him but it felt as if the pieces kept moving on their own. You felt like the boys in the Maze Runner, trying to figure out the pattern of the maze changes every night. 

It’s been two hours since anyones spoken… so it startles you when he breaks the silence, “How… is the bookshelf… inside out…?”

“It’s 9pm… and we still haven’t finished the first bookshelf… we have 6 more to build…”

“FUCK”

[badvlantex]

"I'm sure of it, and uh if you need a sparring partner, sure. Just maybe not tonight?" If this guy really was in the drunken state TJ thought he was, then he was certainly not fit for battle.

"Yeah, and what other mystical powers do you have? Can you sprinkle fairy dust and make us fly?" He asked as if he had that much genuine interest, although he didn't really believe in fairies. Vampires, wolves, and whatever, magic was real, but fairies? That was just stupid. "Do you have wings? Or did someone peel them off?"

Looking in the direction of this mysterious lady of the lake, TJ remarked, "I see. Do you want me to go speak to her?" It would likely be a terrible idea, but TJ would likely do it asked or not. "My heavenly maiden is here too." He pointed to Nova. "But she's protected so well that sometimes I can't even get to her." Not that it would ever stop him.

Taking a sip of his own drink, he added, "I'd say there's a few monsters here... but are monsters the same for you fairies? What's your greatest threat? Isn't uh - Captain Hook? Maybe you should focus on saving Tinker Bell first before your lake lady."

"You will be an excellent knight." Lysander said with the widest smile. "If you need practice I will teach you how to feint an attack." he reassured, unaware he was an oea member.

"There are of all elements I believe. Some can learn all four." Lysander winced in pain remembering for some reason. Why was an image of fire in his mind.

"It is the one over there." He said pointing at Lucia. "I think she may need some time to herself." Lysander said unsure of the words. He remembers the dateline comment all too well.

"You are on your way to becoming a true man." Lysander beamed proudly at the other. "I would love to see her." Lysander said trying to scan the eyes for her. "Tis the monsters brewing here tonight?" He asked in confusion.

[vibinginthebg]

Still some doodles of them :DD

[kooki914]

I just thought of a ship and I wanted to share it:

Spadesgorudy (spade x Asgore x Rudy)

Basically spade and Rudy tolerate each other for asgore’s sake, because he loves the both of them and they love him.

Also this man (asgore) deserves all of the love and praise and everything

Just wanted to share

Extremely valid and I support this ship wholeheartedly. If I was less deathly neutral on Rudy I'd def ship it myself. Have some doodles of them

[elpuppies]

oh i will be sat. (x) line ups look promising btw

[intromortal]

ꕥ NICE N' FULL ⸝⸝⸝ six different scenarios in which the enhypen members breed the fuck out of you !

⚠︎ smut. mdni. breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, p in v, dirty talking, pet names, more warnings listed for each member. total wc 4k. ⸻ rules ⋆ m.list

✷ NIA — not exactly what bae @vampsol asked for bc i went a little au-ish here :p but it's me so what did we expect. shoutout to my goat @karinasbaby for sharing a braincell with me and helping me w the ideas <3

ꕥ LEE HEESEUNG

arranged marriage, it's okay they're starting to be obsessed with each other, slight somno, oral (f. rec), cum eating

If you were to tell anyone Heeseung didn't as much as look you in the eyes about two months ago, they'd never believe you. Not if the way he's clinging to your lower half before he even opens his eyes fully is anything to go by. Still naked in bed, the wet sheets clinging to your bodies the only thing shielding you from the cool dawn air.

Marriages of convenience are rarely easy, especially for spirits as free as Heeseung, and he's made it clear to you how much he'd rather have married anyone else instead. They also come with burdensome expectations of heirs way too soon for his liking. Yet, something about your devotion to him in your most intimate moments despite your general indifference and coldness towards each other, brought the cold and hard as steel man down to his knees, a puddle of mush at your feet ready to fulfill any request.

"Hee," you mutter softly against your pillow as he parts your legs to make space for himself, and Heeseung's heart soars. A month ago it would've been 'Heeseung' or 'husband' with that venomous tone you seemed to only reserve for him, like his spot in your life was only a joke. It's different now, you're tender with him.

"Shh, pretty. Just lay here for me like this." It's still early, and Heeseung can barely see, but he wants the first thing he looks at in the morning to be your pretty hole, raw and sore from all the previous fucking, still gush his seed out. He parts your folds slowly, careful not to hurt you, and watches as his milky cum greets him, pouring out of you. It's a sight for sore eyes, and one he knows he will never get enough of. Even when he'll manage to put a child in you, he knows this is something he won't be able to let go of.

You shift, now more aware of your surroundings, but Hee is quick to keep you still. Your hand underneath your stomach faintly tingles because of its weird position, but it all fades in the background when Heeseung grabs your ass and spreads it, moving lap at where his cum is gushing out of you.

You're still sensitive from the night you spent together, but his touch is feather light and you don't really know if you want him to stop or you want more. He moans at the mixture of your tastes, pushing his tongue deeper inside your cunt like he's trying to clean you, switching so soft kisses on your lips once he's satisfied.

He makes his way up to your face, littering your bottom and spine in kisses and playful nibbles, relishing in the little sounds you make in response. Your front is still pressed to the mattress, and not seeing him almost makes you believe this is not the Heeseung that was shooting you sharp glares throughout the entire wedding ceremony. His touch is warmer, so much more delicate than the way he held your end that first night. His kisses are slow and deliberate, not empty and forced anymore. It's like soul has find its way back into Heeseung's being, after months of being a cold slate. The change started out slowly, but now you're here, and you genuinely feel like you could really love this man. Maybe a part of you does already.

His voice is the same, but the tone makes him sound like a whole different person, the forever present irritation is gone, only a playful tilt to it left as he finally reaches your ear to whisper in it. "Slipped out while sleeping, all of our hard work gone… such a pity." Heeseung aligns his cock to your weeping cunt, rubbing his head a few times along your folds, then carefully pushes in. "We have to do it all over again."

He's gentle, showering you in soft praises, and his thrusts are even slower. You've never known anything other than fucking, but you think this is what lovemaking feels like.

"So good, baby. You'll be such a good mom, you've been so patient with me even when i didn't deserve it. You'll be wonderful," he whispers in your ear, raising goosebumps all over your skin at just how sweet he sounds. "You are wonderful. You're perfect."

ꕥ PARK JONGSEONG

husband!jay, semi-public, bulge kink, he's insatiable

What better way to spend your honeymoon trip if not by getting filled over and over again by your dear, newlywed husband?

You can't think of any, but maybe that's also because you can't really think about anything that's not the delicious drag of Jay's cock against your walls. So deep inside you, pushing more even when his balls are already flush to your skin. Like he can't get enough, like he could break any barrier and mold into you as one if he really put his mind to it. He needs more, you both do.

But one thing's for sure, he's giving you his all.

"So fucking good, my wife has the best pussy. So perfect for me," he pants hotly in your ear, his large warm hand cupping your breast and separating it from the frigid glass your front is pushed against. The view from your suite is breathtaking, emphasized by the huge transparent wall, right beside the queen sized bed. At the moment though, you're not really focused on it. Nor is Jay, too busy gawking at your beautiful figure caged between his chest and the glass. He could stare at you forever. "I'm gonna stuff you full, baby. Gonna fuck you so good all trip, there's no way you won't be pregnant by the end."

You believe it, because all he's done ever since you undid your luggage in the middle of the room once you arrived to your destination is pump you full of his cum, all day, all night. And then all over again. Only stopping to get you food. You aren't safe from him when showering, even worse when taking a bath, definitely not when you're lounging around the natural pool close to your suite. It's not his fault you look so good in the bathing suits you packed and the ones he picked out for you. Jay has always had good stamina, but ever since the wedding he's been downright feral.

His thrusts are slow, but intense, like he's trying to drag the pleasure out as long as he can, savoring the way his tip nudges just the right stop that has you mewling in his hold every single time. His breath is warm against your neck and so are his grunts of pleasure, your favorite sound in the whole world.

Jay twists your sensitive and sore nipples between his fingers, only smiling into your neck when you reward him with the cutest mewls he's ever heard in his life. "Fuck, baby. I'm the luckiest man alive. I can't believe you're mine forever."

"You too," you whine in response.

"Yes baby, I'm all yours, forever. I love you much."

"Love you too," you sob, throwing your head back into his shoulder, completely overtaken by the pleasure he's giving you, allowing him more access to lick and suck on your sensitive neck.

"I know, baby. I know. You're doing so good, just a little more. My sweet girl, you'll be such a good mom. Can't wait to make you one. We'll have so many, so many cute kids running around. Doesn't that sound like a dream? Fuck, I can't wait."

The hand still playing with your tits slides down to your stomach, pushing down on it until Jay can feel his own cock thrusting into you. "Right here, you're gonna carry our baby here." He keeps fucking into you slowly, deliberately, so different from the speed of the circles he draws on your clit with the fingers that were soothing your hip just moments before. He drags out his own pleasure, but needs to give you so much more. "Come on my cock baby, milk it dry. We have so much more work to do."

ꕥ SIM JAEYUN

fwb!jake but he has feelings, he's down bad and a little subby in this one, dub-con (for jake), slight blood play (just his lip)

This is a series of mistakes. It's all Jake seems to be doing as of lately.

First of all, he's not even supposed to be in your bed again, the fourth time this week. Not when he finally came to terms with the fact that he has developed a raging crush on you and cannot keep his feelings at bay any longer, even when you two agreed this whole arrangement will only be sex and nothing else.

But he can't help it when you're so fucking addicting. You not liking him back is gonna break his heart, but at least he gets to fuck you, at least he gets a little piece of you, even if it's not exactly the one he wants.

Secondly, he should've refused to fuck you raw for the first time the moment you asked, even if the thought alone had his eyes crossing and rolling all the way to the back of his skull. But he's a weak man, for you especially, and he simply couldn't resist the temptation, not when you looked up at him with your big glossy eyes and with such a cute pout on your lip.

So here he is now, fucking you raw like his life is on the line, trying his hardest not to spill inside you too soon because if he does he might just die from embarrassment.

All he does, all he's ever done, is with the purpose of impressing you. It's like you have him chained up to this invisible leash he didn't even notice you put on him, and now it's too late to take it off. Jake means it when he says he would do anything for you.

His thrusts are shallow and quick, he's fucking you mostly with his tip, and you don't think you've ever seen him so worked up. It makes you feel things you didn't even know you needed. You like the feeling.

"You're so cute like this, Jakey," you giggle into the messy open mouthed kiss he's drowning you in, your fingers ghosting on the muscles of his back while his tremble on your waist. "Fuck me deeper, I want to feel all of you."

Jake's hips still for a second as he bites down on his bottom lip so hard he draws blood, but you don't mind at all. You even lick it clean, sighing dreamily at the iron taste overtaking your senses. Jake's eyes screw shut, and he's so close to cumming his eyes start to water. This is simultaneously the best and worst thing that has ever happened to him, and thinking that this might very well be the last time only makes his eyes wetter.

"I—fuck. I can't. I'll cum too soon."

"That's okay, we can go again," you say it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and a little piece of Jake's heart breaks. He doesn't know how much more of this he can take.

You sense his hesitation and wrap your legs around his hips, pushing them closer to your pelvis so his length fully sheaths inside you. It's so warm and big and throbbing to release his cum in you and there's not a single thing you want more. "Fill me up, Jakey. Claim me," you whisper in his ear. "Why don't you show everyone I belong to you?"

Jake resumes his movements, tentatively at first but steadily building a pace that feels good, his thrusts are deeper now, needier, and even if he were to try to pull out, you'd keep him right there. "I want to. I want you fully, fuck— please be mine," he sobs into the valley of your breasts, voice muffled as he licks and nips at your skin.

"Go on. Make me yours then. Show me how bad you want me."

And he does because fuck, he's weak. He's so fucking weak for you and he wouldn't have it any other way.

ꕥ PARK SUNGHOON

coworker!hoon, secret relationship, semi-public, degradation, jealousy, mentions of marriage

Something about the way Sunghoon's thick eyebrows were furrowed from the second he walked into the job that morning, or how his jaw clenched as he gritted his teeth whenever any of your colleagues as much as opened their mouths to say something, should've been your cue to behave for the day.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, he happens to look so damn hot when he's pissed.

And he's so filthy when he's jealous, pushing his buttons becomes your favorite challenge in times like these.

"Eyeing Jake all day like you want to bring him to the back and fuck him, are you not ashamed?" he spits, voice an octave lower than usual and barely slipping through his gritted teeth. "Bending over in front of him, touching him when you know I can see you. Do I have to mark you up for you to fucking behave for once?"

The roughness in his voice makes your eyes wet but your panties wetter, he doesn't bother to undress you, you don't have time for it anyway. You're just a few steps away from the lounge bar where some of your coworkers are surely taking a break right now. Anyone could walk in at any time, and maybe Sunghoon wishes for that to happen.

Instead Sunghoon just flips your skirt up and pushes your panties to the side, immediately rubbing his angry red tip on your folds to coat them in your own juices. He feels so incredibly hard against you, and that's how you know he must've been hiding a boner this entire time. As much as he loves to pretend he doesn't, it's little cues like this that let you know just how much he enjoys putting you back in your place. "Of course you're soaked." He barks a laugh devoid of humor but full of disdain.

"If it's my attention you want," he whispers more softly, and the switch in his attitude sends shivers down your spine, something that doesn't go unnoticed by Sunghoon, his lips curling into a smirk. "I'll give it to you. I'll give you so much of it you won't ever think about disrespecting me again."

He pushes his girth into you fully in one thrust, his rough fingers finding your clit within seconds, not even giving you enough time to savor the pleasurable sting that comes from his cock stretching you out so nicely. He grabs your jaw in his other hand, his smirk not turned into a snarl. "You'll cum, and you'll cum hard enough to milk all of me. You'll keep cumming around my cock no matter how much it hurts, until I fill you up. Is that clear?"

You would nod if you could, but his grip is too strong, so you do what you can: just stand there as he subjects you to anything his heart desires. He doesn't move his hips, doesn't give you that satisfaction, only rubs his fingers on your tiny bundle of nerves so hard it almost hurts, but you'd never ask him to stop it.

"You'll take all of my cum, until your belly is swollen by how much of it I fuck into you. I'll put a baby in you so no one else will ever mistake you for anything other than mine."

You clench around him, time and time again, just like he wants you to. Sunghoon has you under a spell, and the more he talks, the more he flicks your clit, the less you think about what's rational and what's not. You only know what he tells you, and to you that's the only truth you need to hear.

"I'll put a ring on your finger, make you my pretty little wife. Maybe even make you stop coming in, I'll take care of everything. Yeah, keep milking me like that, baby. Let me make you a mommy."

ꕥ KIM SUNOO

ewb, hate sex, degradation, marking, one singular 'slut', condom comes off!

"You're—mhh, such a bad fuck," you say over your shoulder, wanting to see Sunoo's reaction despite the uncomfortable position. You're lying through your teeth, of course. You know how much saying things like this riles Sunoo up, and the only times you feel anything akin to like towards him is when he's rough with you. It's why despite the mutual hatred that makes up the entirety of your relationship, you two keep finding yourselves skin to skin, tangled in bed sheets. You always thought you needed someone to fuck you like they hate you, turns out, what you really craved was someone to fuck you because they hate you. And the right man for the job is right behind you, thrusting into you like he wants to hurt you, his hands leaving bruises on your hips like it's their right to do so.

"Then why are you here, wetting my cock like no one's fucked you in years?" His moves are relentless, and you have to try your best to not collapse on the bed because of the sheer force behind every stroke. Your legs are shaking, but you hang on a thread just to not give him that satisfaction. Instead, you push him further.

"That guy from—mph, yesterday. He'd—" you gasp as he gives you a harsher thrust, so deep you're sure you can feel it in your guts. The angle he starts fucking you in knocks the air out of your lungs in the best way possible, and even if you're trembling under Sunoo's weight and clawing at the cotton fabric next to you, you refuse to back down. "He'd do a better job."

You don't need to see his face, you hear the smirk in his voice, and it's the kind that sends a shiver down your spine each time. "But you're here." Another sharp thrust. "You don't even remember his name."

"At least he las– lasted while fucking me raw." You feel him halt all movement, and you know this is enough to get what you want from him, but you just can't help it. "You could never."

"You're such a little fox, aren't you?" He speaks calmly, but you can feel the storm brewing under the facade. He drags his fingertips across your spine, barely touching you at all. It's embarrassing how that's enough to have you bend under his touch. He reaches the plush of your ass, grabbing a fistful of it so forcefully you can feel his nails break the skin. He doesn't stop when you complain, doesn't care for your pained moans. "You think you're so smart, but you're just a little slut. You want me to fuck you raw?"

You try to shake your head to deny it, but he knows better.

"Yes you do. Say it." His grip on your ass only gets stronger, and tears line your bottom lashes.

"I do," you whine, finally. "Please."

"Good." Sunoo releases the death grip on your skin, soothing over the red spot with his thumb lightly, like it's not him performing the action. The Sunoo you know has no time for care. "Then take the condom off of me."

Your head snaps back at his words, but he makes no sign of moving. So you do what he says, this once. You reach for this length, then carefully slide the rubber off of it. And right when he thinks you're finally behaving, you squeeze his cock so hard his hips stutter forward and you actually manage to steal a surprised yelp out of him.

Sunoo's reaction is immediate. He grabs both of your hands, uncaring for the way your elbows are uncomfortably bent, and brings your wrists together behind your back. He slides into you again in one swift motion, not giving you even a second to savor the feeling of his bare cock pushing into your heat for the first time. All of your nerves feel on fire, and as he sets a breakneck pace while keeping you down and unable to move.

"Do I have to fuck a baby into you for you to finally behave?" He gasps when you squeeze him in response to his words. "You'd like that yeah? You'd love for the man you hate to get you pregnant? Is that gonna make you shut the fuck up for once? Oh, I bet it will."

ꕥ YANG JUNGWON

fiancé!won, they're obsessed your honor, love on the floor

"You can't wait to get me pregnant, but what will you do when you won't be able to suck on my tits for months, mhh?" You giggle on Jungwon's lap, right in the middle of the empty room.

The new house still smells like new houses usually do, dry and woody, like the windows are never open. There's no furniture yet, but it doesn't stop your heart from pounding in your chest as you look around. Your home.

Jungwon's eyes never leave you though, and when you look back at him and find him smiling at you like you hold the world in your palm, you know you would be happy with every house, no matter the size or appearance, as long as he's the one you share it with.

"What makes you think that's gonna stop me?" Your fiance replies, shaking his head to move the bangs out of his eyes. "I'll even get something more out if it."

"Won!" you exclaim, hiding your face in your hands. Your heart melts a bit when you hear that familiar boyish giggle leave him, light as air, and for once in your life you feel like you've found the right spot in the world.

The warmth you feel spreads further as Jungwon starts caressing your bare thighs, until he's gripping your ass, using it as leverage to push you on his crotch.

You gasp at the feeling, and your hands find their rightful place on his broad shoulders so you can keep yourself steady as he starts to roll your hips against his.

"Won… we shouldn't—"

He shuts you up with a soft peck, resting his forehead against yours. "Why not? It's our place. We worked so hard for it, we should celebrate."

You bite your bottom lip as you think about it, but Won doesn't waste a minute and flips both of you over so you're caged between the floor and his chest. He nibbles on your ear, knowing better than anyone else how weak it makes you when he does that. "I'll make you feel so good, doll." It's like he's put a spell on you because you nod before he even manages to finish his sentence. "Just lay back and let me do all the work."

Your clothes are soon discarded everywhere around you, and your legs are wrapped around his hips as he fucks into you like he never has before. You're both a sweaty mess, panting in each other's mouths, exchanging spit any chance you get.

"Your pussy was made for me, doll. You're sucking me in so well." Jungwon moans against your lips, and you watch enamored as his eyes shut close and his eyebrows furrow, a droplet of sweat running down from his hairline. "Can't wait to take you on every surface of this house. Fuck— just leave it to me, baby. I have so many surprises for you."

"I'm so close, please," you whine, sliding a hand down his back to push his hips into you further. It makes Jungwon's pace faster, more desperate to give you exactly what you need.

"Let go, baby. Come all over my dick— yeah, just like that. You're taking me so fucking well. Such a perfect doll for me." His praise goes straight to your cunt, and you squeeze him impossibly hard as wakes of pleasure rack through your body.

"My perfect angel, you're gonna look so good swollen with our baby. Am gonna give you all of my cum, just a little more. We'll have so many kids running around the house we built. Our home forever," Jungwon babbles in your ear, and you're so fucked out you can even barely make out what he's telling you. You just know you need him to fuck you full, over and over.

His hips never stutter, despite how drenched and slippery everything is by now, a puddle of wetness pooling underneath you on the hard floor, getting bigger and bigger the more Jungwon fucks you, and you suspect the floor won't be the only surface you'll wet that day.

[hijinxinprogress]

Does the JL know that YJ has just casually been beefing with darkseid??

imagine there’s a all hands on deck battle against darkseid and everyone is there but darkseid points out the nearest yj member (it’s probably Bart) like ‘you!!! You managed to escape with your lives last time but this meeting will be our last’ and for a split second Clark’s so fucking confused bc we haven’t fought in years wtf are you talking about then he hears ‘oh shit, look it’s Doug’ and everyone turns to see Bart nudging Kon going ‘he’s talking to you…damn he must still be mad about the coal’ and kons shoving him back bc ‘you were the one fucking around with his coal, you fucking walnut’ while Cassie’s being scruffed by wonder woman bc they’re trying to avoid being around when the jl finds out and tims having a very intense silent conversation lecture about why tf there’s at least half a dozen yj mission reports that mention an assailant named ‘Doug’ 

then Constantine shows up with Greta and everyone (including darkseid) starts yelling and if you don’t know her Greta seems like the one with the ownership of the braincell in yj (she is not but I guess she looks like it from a distance if you squint) which goes one of two ways:

retired-civilian!greta is giggling and waving excitedly to each member of yj along with hal before she practically tackles each of them in a tight hug while the titans, jl, & jl: dark lose their collective shit bc Constantine brought a tiny civilian dressed in pastel floral prints from head to toe into an active battle with fucking darkseid, a civilian who doesn’t register as a threat in any capacity until she makes eye contact with darkseid and gives him the most disgusted look imaginable “Doug… you look…well.” and then like three jl members have to stop her from leaping at darkseid while Hal’s like ‘no! No no, bad Greta! We don’t fight supervillains with…what is that?? I really fucking hope that’s not a gun…Is-is that fucking silly string?! Greta no we don’t silly string supervillains! We’ve talked about this!��

or

never-retired!/recently-out-of-retirement!greta who does the same thing but when she notices darkseid she rocks his shit in eight seconds flat and starts muttering about ‘that fucking Doug, always ruining my goddamn day’ and Hal is the first one to recover from the shock/confusion but only to tell Greta she’s grounded which gets another irritated ‘fucking doug!’ while Wally and Barry are losing it at Mach 6 while Bart tries to explain himself also at Mach 6, Cassie manages to catch Wally’s exasperated ‘where the fuck did you get Doug from?!’ And responds with ‘Apokolips’ in a tone that means they’re questioning his intelligence which leads to more screaming bc ‘so you knew who he was?? Why didn’t you come to us??’ and they all back up Kon when he claims they told Lex bc that means they have at least 3 hours of freedom while Lex is getting yelled at by the jl (and honestly every cape over 24)

[earlysunshines]

flower girl

danielle marsh x fem!florist!reader

synopsis: you never expect much from your job at the flower shop but then the most beautiful girl you’ve ever laid your eyes on stumbles in

warnings: litcherslly none i don’t think anything rly ; very fluffy ; reader is awkward and loser and dorky ; danielle’s gorgeous and bubbly and cutesy and dorky too ; two dorky idiots that want each other i fear ; anything else not mentioned ; not proofread

a/n: my writing is so much worse now it’s actually so bad and this is bc i haven’t written in a bit but also haven’t been reading like anthrjng (other than textbooks for class)… ooh.. ALSO heavily based off this song!!!

most people would assume that working at the towns flower shop is all sunshine’s and rainbows—the atmosphere is littered with beautiful arrangements, vibrant colors, and the gorgeous interior always has light seeping in through the windows just right. 

working at the flower shop would be perfect if it weren’t for the fact that you were single. maybe if a lovely girl was waiting for you to clock out, ready to give you a soft kiss to the lips you’d enjoy your shifts more—but no. 

today isn’t different from the others. when is it ever? 

“babe, babeeee~” a girl whines in an uncomfortably high pitched voice that it makes you cringe a bit. your brows scrunch in a bit when you hear her, “pumpkin stop— haha— th-that tickles!” 

pumpkin? gosh, you might throw up into the flowers you’re fixing up. 

the couple that had walked in wasted no time getting all touchy and displaying the pda that no one asked for. 

(“no one” being you and only you because your manager is taking orders in the comfort of her office while you suffer out in the main area) 

the boyfriend pulls her closer, his chest pressing against her back as he peppers kisses on her neck, giggling like an idiot. you have to redirect your attention completely to block them from your peripheral, trying to endure only the sound now. 

“love bug, i can’t help it.” he tries to say quietly, but you’re the only people in the shop, making it increasingly difficult to put up with this. 

you sigh. the only way to get them to stop sooner is to go up to them, put on your customer service voice, flash a friendly smile, and hope for the best.

“hi! did you guys need any help with anything?” he’s still holding on to her when he looks over at you and nods. 

“yeah, yeah. just wanted to buy my girl some flowers. which ones are the prettiest? she likes pink.”

this job tests you everyday.

why would you buy flowers with her here? is it not usually a surprise? why are you using half of your singular braincell to think of a choice for your lover?

you criticize him knowing that he doesn’t really care what you give him, and judging by his tone—plus his ignorance and lack of interest for the vast options surrounding him—you could probably hand him polyester flowers and he wouldn’t think twice about the fact that they wouldn’t deteriorate at all in the next few years.

instead of giving in to your thoughts, your smile grows again. “right. well, a popular selection of pink flowers would be the classic rose bouquet, but we can also do a smaller bouquet of three.” you explain before poining across the shop to another arrangement. “and those are our tulips—another popular choice. as you can see, there’s a variety of colors, but depending on how many you need i’m able to provide a bouquet of pink.”

“okay, cool, cool.” he says, looking around. without thinking twice, he shrugs, then points to the roses. “i’ll take like, five? i don’t know how you do it. just pop ‘em in those little things so we can hold it and that should be it. it’s date night—need something nice for my girl.”

“oh stop it pumpkin… you’re so sweet.” the girl gushes, moving over to peck his lips.

your purse your lips into a forced smile, nodding at them. “right, i can hand you a bouquet of five. give me a few minutes.” 

they nod and offer a “thank you,” before going back to being all loving and everything that manages to make you throw up in your mouth. a groan leaves your lips as you get to work.

once you’re done, you hand the man the bouquet. “these are pretty fresh, so i’d say they’ll last a week if you care for them nicely. make sure the vase you store them in has clean water and whatnot.”

he nods and offers a friendly smile before giving the flowers to his girlfriend. she kisses him on the cheek and says thank you to him like this is the best gift in the world, but you beg to differ. you also don’t get paid enough to judge boyfriends doing the bare minimum, so you simply wave at them and say, “thank you for purchasing!”

once they leave, the comforting hum of your jazz playlist fills the silence. you’re left relieved. 

you sort out a few more flowers, pick up petals that fell on the ground, and clean up other messes from the day before the bell above the door rings.

a “welcome in!” leaves your mouth before you turn around to see who’s decided to stop by. you assume it’s a couple, or maybe the rare occasion that it’s someone elderly or the rarer occasion: a group of teenagers browsing around.

after fixing your hair, you turn around and are immediately met with pretty brown eyes that land right on your gaze.

a girl, the very pretty girl, looks around your age—probably a student like you. she lets the door close behind her and a small flush of wind brushes her hair across her face perfectly.

there’s a shiver that runs down your whole body. the way her lashes flutter when she blinks is like some sort of mind-blowing cinematic movie scene. she smiles, waving at you and tucking a strand of hair behind her ears which somehow renders you speechless.

“hi! how are you?” she greets. her voice is bright and cheery.

you’re already impressed considering no customer has asked how you were today—or at all this week.

(it’s only wednesday, but it still means something to you.)

you smile easily, not a forced one, a genuine smile.

“i’m doing well, and you?” 

“great now that i’m here,” she says, her eyes wandering around the mildly cluttered area. “it’s beautiful inside. must be nice working here, i bet.”

“it is.” you respond, “i never get tired of the scenery.”

“who would?” she says sweetly, her eyes molding into crescents as she smiles again. “i can’t believe i haven’t stopped by… i walk pass this place almost everyday.”

“is that so?”

“mhm,” she nods, “it’s on the way to my work.”

“well, feel free to stop by anytime—even if you’re not purchasing.” you assure, “can i help you with anything?”

she nods again. “i wanted to surprise my friend with flowers, but i wanted it to be special. i needed some expert opinions.”

dusting off your apron, you chuckle quietly, “i can help you with that. is there anything you have in mind?”

she shifts her gaze, the expression on her face that signature “i’m thinking” look—like in the movies but somehow more dorky. 

“my friend has a strong personality… something bright and vibrant would be good. it matches her.” she begins, then walks over to the marigolds and brushes her finger over a petal, “her birthday is in october, so i looked into her birth flowers too.”

“marigold,” you almost whisper, “you did your research?”

“she’s one of my good friends.” the girl shrugs. “i want to get her something meaningful.”

a warmth spreads through your body, maybe from relief and surprise since this is the first time anyone has put any thought into what they’ve asked you to arrange.

“that’s cute.” you smile, giggling lightly, “your friend is lucky to have you.”

she smiles back—you're unsure if the smile ever left but now she’s smiling at you like that and you could really care less—and you make your way over to some marigolds and cosmos. 

“i think, in my opinion, some fall colored flowers and her birth flowers would be good.”

“i trust you, miss…” she trails off, looking at your nametag, squinting at your handwriting, and meeting your eyes again. “miss y/n.” 

your name, from that voice of hers and that dorky grin, sends another shiver down your spine. 

“i’m glad you have that much faith in me.” you joke.

the girl walks around the shop while you fix up her bouquet. the shop isn’t too big, but enough to fit a wide variety of flowers, excluding the special exceptions that decorate the shop outside. occasionally you’ll glance over at her and she’ll be immersed in observing the flowers. she takes pictures, brushes her fingers over the petals, and appreciates them for the same amount of time until she’s decided to stop at the area where you arrange the gift for her friend.

she simply watches. there’s a curiosity that you catch in her eyes, they seem to add a slight sparkle. she watches until you’re finished with the bouquet, eyes on your nimble fingers fixing each petal and adjusting the position to be just right.

“there we go,” you mumble to yourself. you’re too busy eyeing the flowers from each angle to notice the smile of admiration on the girls lips.

you hand her the bouquet, dusting your apron off and fixing your rolled-up sleeves. she holds the bouquet without saying a word, just staring at you for a few seconds before she stops studying every feature on your face like it’s the last time she’ll see you.

“thank you so much. they’re so beautiful.” she says, sniffing the flowers lightly. “you’re so talented!”

“thank you.” you chuckle, “i’m just doing my job, really. i hope your friend likes them.”

you tap at the screen of the register in front of you, calculating the price of the bouquet and feeling yourself shrink in your spot at the feeling of her gaze. you can’t remember the last time someone made you this nervous—warm in the cheeks, fidgety with your fingers, and an idiot fighting back any awkward rambling. this girl manages to do it without trying and it’s awfully humiliating, but also embarrassingly exciting.

before you can tell her the total of her bouquet, she rids of any professionalism you have with one single comment.

“you smell really good.” she says, earning a raised brow from you. “i hope it’s not weird.” she laughs lightly and it works at easing the tension in your shoulders. you feel yourself relax as she continues, “you smell like… well considering you work here i guess flowers would make sense, but you smell like pear and something refreshing. it’s strong, but not too strong. it’s noticeable—but it’s nice! very nice. sorry.”

“i–” how do you even respond to that? your heart is in your throat because she’s flashing an awkward smile—maybe because she’s realized what she’s said or maybe because it’s just the two of you and the room squeezing in—you mirror her expression and bite the inside of your lip before responding, “it’s jo malone. thank you. i, i um, it was a gift from someone. i really like the way it smells. it pairs well with the jasmine.“

what were you even saying? you want to disappear right then and there right after you say it, but you don’t. you don’t because she’s giggling and pulling out her credit card that’s on her phone screen.

you gulp and add, “oh, yeah— um, your total is twenty-five dollars and seventy cents.”

“jo malone… expensive.” she says as she scans her card. “thank you for everything, by the way. they’re beautiful. i have to stop by again.”

“well, i’ll look forward to it.” the ounce of confidence you have in your body seems to spill from your lips and reach your eyes from the way you’re looking at her. your eyes narrowed just barely while simultaneously softening up just for her. “come by anytime.”

“thank you—” she glances at your nametag once more, then puts her hand on your forearm. you feel like you’re in a simulation and being toyed with, or worse: a romance movie and you’re the desperate fool who’s been chosen as the main character. “---y/n.”

she waves and you wave back, then leaves, making the doorbell ring and even that sounds like something from a movie. the bell has never rung that cheerfully.

—

on your way back home, and for the rest of the week, you think about the girl. you’re an idiot for not asking for her name, so you’ve resulted to calling her “flower girl” for the time being.

your friends are also on to you, catching you smiling to yourself out of nowhere. you tell them you were thinking about the events of the multiple corny couples stumbling into your work, the utter embarrassment you feel from witnessing their pda making you smile, but they never believe it.

if you ever told them about “flower girl,” they’d shred you to pieces—verbally, of course—and poke fun at you for at least a week or two. 

what makes it worse is that you’ve been smiling more and thinking more and hoping she’d come back into work, but she doesn’t. a week passes and she still doesn’t, but two days after your one week anniversary of meeting (your friends would seriously tease you to death for what you call it), she shows up again.

the bell rings differently than normal. your ears twitch and you turn your head to see her. your eyes meet hers and so does your smile.

“y/n!” she beams, “happy friday!”

“hi.” you try to sound calm, composed—anything to play cool and hide how delusional you are. “it’s nice to see you again. happy friday.” you greet, continuing on when the silence stretches on for a mere two seconds, “need another bouquet?”

“no, just wanted to browse.” she shrugs.

and so she does, walking around and even crouching to match her level with a few of the shorter flowers. you pretend to go back to work, tending to the flowers and whatnot, really anything to keep yourself from staring at her. 

“how have you been?” she asks out of nowhere, catching you by surprise as you water some dandelions. 

“oh, i’ve been uh, i’ve been good. and you?”

“great. my friend really liked the flowers, by the way.”

“i’m glad. i was really fond of that arrangement. i thought about it the whole week.” and her, you’ve been thinking about more than just that gorgeous arrangement you completely forgot to get a picture of. 

“really? wow, i’m so happy that you liked it as much as i did! gosh, it was so pretty and everyone we met up with was amazed by the vibrant colors and everything. i referred them to you.”

you laugh, fully facing her now after setting down the water can. “thanks for helping out the business. my boss will be thrilled.”

“i hope your boss knows they have the best on their team!”

you laugh again, stepping a little closer to the flowers in front of you. “i’ll let her know, i hope it’ll convince her if it comes from me.” you joke.

she giggles and asks you about the flowers next to her. they’re chrysanthemums, a beautiful shade of yellow. you tell her a brief summary of the meaning, how popular they are, and that there’s a shipment for a different shade. the girl focuses on you the whole time, you catch her eyes scanning each feature of your face unless you specifically point to the flower. you never thought your job would come with the stress of meeting a pretty girl at your workplace who’s oddly eager to talk to you.

“yeah, i really like chrysanthemums, my mom does too. they’re a nice flower, pretty popular.” you shrug, lightly brushing your pointer over the edges of a few petals.

“what are your favorites then?” the girl questions, tilting her head ever so slightly to display her curiosity.

“oh, um.” you think to yourself, then glance around the room. 

there’s way too many to count and so many that you admire—which is why you decided to take this part-time job. 

you respond with the first two flowers that come to your mind. “lilies and daisies, probably.” you nod.

the girl looks over at the lilies in the room, grinning as she says, “i see why. gosh, the one’s you have here are so pretty.”

“yeah, i take care of them extra nicely.” you admit.

“is that so? i might have to invest in some eventually.”

“i’ll make sure they’re well-kept then.”

“hopefully they’ll be as pretty as the person handling them.” 

you blink. a blush blooms over your cheeks and your heartbeat picks up. 

before you can respond, she brushes over her compliment and continues, “i really like sunflowers. they’re so pretty, and they’re a classic.” she looks over to the sunflowers near the window. “my friends always compare me to them too.”

“i’m not surprised.” you mutter, and she catches it. her brows raise ever so slightly as if she’s waiting for an explanation. you catch her eyes with yours again while nervously adding, “you’re bright and… nice to look at.”

you swallow shallowly in the next five seconds that pass by without any response from her. you’re hoping she doesn’t notice how you tense your jaw while you try to hold up the composed act, but it’s really hard to keep it up when her lips curl into an even wider smile of amusement.

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

the door rings suddenly, though not in the cheery tune that follows after your “flower girl” walks in. a couple, one that’s showing way too much affection for your liking, stumbles in and looks around curiously. 

a soft sigh leaves your mouth and “flower girl” giggles. she places her hand on your forearm—light and brief, but you’re thinking about it real hard in the two seconds that it happens—then presses her lips together to suppress how giddy she is.

“i have to get going, and i believe you have more company?”

“yeah,” you nearly groan, “excuse me, i have to um, assist them.”

“alright.” she studies the subtle shift of your expression and nods. “i’ll see you again, y/n.”

“yeah, see you.” you respond, watching her brush past the couple and toward the door.

before you make your way to the couple, you pinch your eyes shut and bite the inside of your lip; you forgot to get her name again. 

—-

you catch a few of your friends for lunch after a particularly draining shift. there were multiple people that needed help with picking flowers, which wouldn’t have been odd if it weren’t for the fact that most of them were for birthdays.

(it just had to be everyone’s birthday that day—or week.)

sohee, one of your closest friends, sits in front of you and pretends to look innocent after stealing one of your fries. chaewon and soobin giggle at the playful punch you throw at his shoulder, which makes him groan with the stolen fry still in his mouth.

“ask nicely next time.” you warn.

“you’re such a hypocrite! you took the fruit gummies from my apartment literally last—”

“okay? are you saying you want me to be malnourished? wow…”

“but—

“no.” you quickly shut him down while simultaneously trying to fight back a laugh. “you’re a man, you can’t be doing all that.”

chaewon rolls her eyes at your antics, then steals a fry without a complaint coming from you. soobin chuckles and sohee looks at all of you defeatedly.

throughout the rest of lunch you all catch-up with what’s been going on through the week. sohee’s been trying to convince his roommate to invest in a mini-fridge and chaewon groans as she explains how she’s been considering taking an extra class the next semester.

and while soobin goes over his chaotic month, you start smiling to yourself as you accidentally tune out his voice. your thoughts shift over to your encounter with “flower girl” two days ago. 

it’s incredibly odd how you’re eager to clock in to work now. it’s not that you hated your job, you truly loved it, but the customers were always iffy. now, you have something to look forward to, someone to keep yourself going when it’s slow or dreadful on certain days. 

chaewon flicks your forehead, snapping you out of a replay of her hand on your forearm.

“what the hell are you smiling about?” she asks, “did you hear what soobin just said?”

“uh,” absolutely nothing had processed in the past minute. “sorry.”

soobin nudges your shoulder. “damn… so you hate me.”

“well, yes.” you joke. “sorry, ‘binnie, i was just… thinking about work.”

“i thought you hated your job…?” he responds.

sohee joins in, “yeah, you were just complaining to the group chat about a couple that forgot to stop making out when you came back with their bouquet.”

“oh my god, i forgot about that, ugh… and that was literally a month ago.” the memory makes you cringe. “and no i do not hate my job! i love it.”

“something is up then.” sohee says, pointing at you dramatically. “what’s up with work? did something happen? is this why you’ve been so… giddy?”

“giddy?” you try to laugh off his accusation. “it’s not— i– it’s nothing!”

“she stuttered,” chaewon points out.

“that doesn’t mean shit!” you groan, “i’ve just… okay, works been better. look, there’s this new regular. she’s kind of a regular.”

“oh my god, this girl must be cute then.” soobin chuckles, raising his brows at you. “what, you’ve got yourself some type of flower girl?”

you’re baffled that he somehow read your mind and matched frequencies enough to know that you also call her flower girl. you want to scold him for jumping to the conclusion that you’re happier at work because of a pretty girl—but he’s quite on point, so you can’t really defend yourself.

“oh my god she’s blushing,” sohee mumbles, laughing with chaewon.

“oh shut up i hate you guys.” you groan, “she’s just nice and actually talks to me. i mean yeah she’s gorgeous but that’s not even the point. she’s different than usual customers and… i guess it’s a nice change.”

“so you want her,” soobin says before sipping on his tea. “pretty girl vs. y/n and she’s already losing.”

“i—”

okay maybe he’s right, but you’d never admit that. 

the rest of lunch consists of you getting teased until the topic switches into chaewon talking about kazuha and sakura, who have apparently been way too loud when playing video games late at night. soobin, however, manages to throw in one more teasing comment before you all depart, which earns a few more remarks from chaewon throughout the car ride home.

“everything used to soil your mood,” soobin’s words replayed in your mind over and over, “seems like this ‘flower girl’ is making you bloom.” 

his words were corny mainly because it was him saying it, but he wasn’t wrong. and it doesn’t help that chaewon keeps telling you that she supports whatever you have going on, saying that you’re “not as cranky” and “smiling like an idiot all the time.”

you blush the whole way home thinking about her and it’s ridiculous. this girl that’s shown up twice has you malfunctioning even outside of work.

—

“y/n, could you grab the shipments from the back? i unloaded them, they just need to be restocked. it’s a few boxes, nothing much.” your boss asks. 

“yeah, sure.” you respond, immediately heading to the back and looking around for the boxes she mentioned.

you have exactly one hour until work ends and the only thing on your mind is a nice big lunch since you only had time to eat a banana for breakfast. you feel the energy leaving your body as you carry the boxes, guessing they’re mainly seeds and supplies for the bouquets. the boxes shfit and a subtle sound hints that there’s some pots for people who end up buying something to display their flowers.

with a light thud, you place the boxes on the counter in the front and find the box cutter nearby. just as you suspected—there are a few packets of seeds, tools, and pots inside that you pull out and start restocking.

but in the corner of your eye you catch two people conversing outside. you’d brush it off if it weren’t for the fact that one of them was flower girl, who’s talking to your boss while pointing at the tulips.

your heart beats faster in your chest and a surge of urgency to finish restocking.

you jump at the feeling of a hand on your shoulder not too long later. turning your head, you catch your manager grinning at you.

“hey, i’ve got the rest. there’s a customer that you should help.” she tells you, but the look in her eyes screams something mischievous.

you nod, setting the pot in your hand back into the box before turning to meet the same big brown eyes that never fail to light up your day.

“y/n!”

“flower girl,” you mutter, though very quietly, just under your breath. “hi,” you greet, clear and professionally.

“how are you?” she asks, and it flows like last time; conversation with her is light and easy to ease into.

you tell her it’s a little slower today considering it’s tuesday, and you even drop a little “i’m glad you’re here to keep some brief company,” which earns a smile and a “i find stopping by the highlight of my week, it’s nothing.”

now you’re both trying not to blush and it’s impossible. it’s impossible because you notice that shade of blush she has on matches the carnations that you had to fix up yesterday. and on her end, she can’t help but notice that your hair is a little messier than usual, which adds to how cute she thinks you are.

you two converse in between her questions about flowers. she finds your anecdotes about each and every one interesting, interesting enough that she asks,

“hey, what are you doing later today?”

the question catches you off guard. “oh, um. probably nothing… maybe i’ll go on a walk or visit a friend… i don’t know… why do you ask?”

you can’t curb the blush that heats your face, so you pray it’s not noticeable.

“well, i’m off today and my schedule is pretty empty… i was hoping you’d let me pencil you in?”

you giggle at her response, hoping your manager doesn’t hear any of it because she’s also one to tease you like crazy.

“i’d… yeah, i’d like that.” you sound like an idiot. your mind runs in circles and your heart beats faster than it usually does—even faster than the time she (you’d hope) flirted with you. “i um, i get off in less than an hour… i hope you don’t mind waiting.”

she bites the inside of her lip and it feels like it’s just the two of you in the shop, with daisies sprouting around (metaphorically speaking, of course) to feed the fire that burns in your chest. 

“that’s perfect. do you like sandwiches?”

“i love them.”

“perfect. there’s a place not too far that i love—”

“down the block near the park?”

“yes! how did you—?”

“i go there all the time.” wow, this is perfect, you think to yourself. “we could grab lunch… maybe walk around…?”

she laughs and your whole body relaxes. 

“you’re really cute, you know?”

“i think you’re cuter.” you say without thinking. “and i feel unbelievably stupid that i’ve been calling the cute girl that stops by every week ‘flower girl.’ my friends keep teasing me because i never got your name.”

“you talk to me about your friends?’ she questions with a growing smirk.

“i— maybe.” 

“well, i’m glad i’m not the only one.”she breaks eye contact to look at the ground bashfully. “my friends have been… trying to help me build up the courage to ask you out.”

“really?”

“mhm.” she nods.

“well, i’d love to tell my friends more about you…” you trail off, remembering that you don’t even know her name.

“if i give you my name… would you give me your number?” she asks cheekily.

you chuckle. “i’ll consider it.”

her hand brushes the petal of a flower nearby—a pink hibiscus—before saying, “my name is danielle.”

“danielle,” her name trickles off your tongue with curiosity and wonder. her name isn’t uncommon, but it’s beautiful and a perfect fit for someone bright like her.

her smile grows along with yours.

“i guess i should give you my number then, danielle.” you test the way her name sounds coming from you and are just as content the second time around. it’s better than flower girl, but that’s not stopping you from calling her that again and again in the future.

“i’d need your number just in case i want to see you again,” she says with a light-hearted, teasing tone. “just in case you charm me well enough.”

“i’ll do my best then, flower girl.”

[deadsnakey]

𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐎

❀⋆.ೃ fluff ೀ Headcanons. . .ᐟ 0.3k words★⋆.˚ ୨ ୧┈─★

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡.

ꪆৎ You and hermione are best friends for sure, very sassy and chaotic duo.

ꪆৎ Ron loves sharing his chocolate frogs with you whenever he has extra, if you also really like them.

ꪆৎ Youre most likely also a gryffindor, but if youre not then be considered lucky, especially if youre a slytherin.

ꪆৎ If you are in a different house, they'd probably were sisicious at first of you, let alone if you're a slytherin, it probably took a long while for them to see that youre intentions were good and thats when they start being a little more nicer to you.

ꪆৎ If youre a gryffindor, you probably got into some trouble rather on accident or not and they had to save you, resulting in knowing your name and then sticking with them for the rest of hogwarts.

ꪆৎ You four are always making trouble, everywhere you go is trouble dude it's inevitable. 

ꪆৎ If youre foreighn / have an american accent, youd talk british sometimes and they try and impersonate you, probably ask you how to pronounce some words like sum’fin.

ꪆৎ You definitely steal harry’s glasses because you think its funny but he knows youll give them back if he asks.

ꪆৎ You think its funny how sassy ron is, but goddamnit it can be ridiculously annoying sometimes, he’s kind of a smartass, especially as a child. (year 1 through 3, after that he got better with it.)

ꪆৎ you three protect each other all the time, its the only right thing to do.

ꪆৎ its someones being a testa di cazzo to you, don't worry cause the twins, and the three of them got your back and defending you.

ꪆৎ Fred and George are nice to you, you guys probably are good friends since you're really close to Ron. you probably have met at least half of his family.

ꪆৎ they genuinely refuse to get into any trouble without you unless they necessarily have too.

ꪆৎ you and Hermione are the brains of the friendship, the boys share one singular braincell throughout all the years.

ꪆৎ Hermoine and you love to get a break from the two boys, so late night sleepovers or hangouts with just the two of you are more common then you'd think.

ꪆৎ you probably developed a habit of bringing lots of snacks in your bag and dorm because of Ron specifically. boy always asking if you have snacks or food.

[verricherri]

I need more of wabang whiskey I literally beg of you please

Brody’s Eight Ball

A/N: You asked, I serve — girl… say less. I heard the bell and I came running. 🫡 This one's powered by 3 hours of sleep, one braincell, and sheer delulu determination. It better eat. Warnings: on your knees, cowboy Masterlist Feedback and reposts are appreciated  ☀️

The music was low, the kind that buzzed beneath your ribs — all reverb and twang and something about a woman leaving town with a suitcase and a shotgun. The scent of beer and fried oil clung to every surface. Brody’s Bar was packed for a Friday night, not shoulder-to-shoulder chaos, but the kind of full where every whisper had an audience and every glance meant something. The pool table in the back had its own gravitational pull — lights dimmed everywhere except over the green felt battlefield, where bets were laid and egos went to die.

You hadn’t planned on playing.

You really hadn’t.

You were only there for a drink. For Rhett.

He was already leaning against the booth when you arrived, arms sprawled wide like he owned the night, beer bottle sweating in his hand, eyes half-lidded and dangerous. You slid in across from him like you hadn’t thought about him all day — like the two of you hadn’t been toeing a line for weeks now. No label. No claims. Just touches that lingered too long and glances that felt like heat lightning.

He’d taken you out last week. Twice. Once to dinner where your knees knocked under the table, once to the edge of Wabang where the stars burned low and his fingers brushed your jaw but didn’t pull you in. Not yet.

You swirled the tequila in your glass. Smirked at the way his eyes kept drifting to your lips.

“You always look at me like that?” you asked, voice dipped in syrup, feigning casual. Rhett didn’t even blink. “Only when you wear that look.” “What look?” “The one that makes me think you want me to do somethin’ about it.” You leaned forward, propped your chin on your hand. “And do you?” His smirk was slow, dangerous. “Don’t tempt me, sweetheart. You know I will.”

Before you could respond, a loud crack echoed from the pool table. A fresh wave of laughter. Someone called out a name, then:

“You play?” Rhett asked, tilting his head toward the back. “Used to. Nothing serious.” “Liar,” he murmured into his beer. “You’re never not serious.” You arched a brow. “And you’d know?” Rhett’s tongue ran along the inside of his cheek. “Get up there. Show me I’m right.” You met his gaze. Let your finger trail slow around the rim of your glass. “And if you are?” His voice dropped. “Then I’ll be the one buying your drinks tonight.” Someone shouted toward your booth: “We need a warm-up! You in?” You stood. Tossed a wink over your shoulder. “Try not to cry when I win.” Rhett leaned back, slow. “Just don’t pout when I say I told you so.”

The pool cue was cool and smooth in your hand. You chalked it lazily, pretending not to notice the way Caleb watched your fingers.

“You hold it like this,” he said, stepping closer, cocky and condescending. “Wrist straight. Hips square. Here, lemme—”

You let him hover. Let him think you were lost. Bent forward just enough for the table light to catch the bare slope of your back where your tank top dipped — the fabric clinging to the curve of your spine, pulling tight across your chest, the neckline dipping low enough to tease a flash of cleavage with every breath. You lined up a soft angle with care, the cue dragging over your palm, your mouth twitching like you already knew how this would end.

And Rhett — Rhett was staring like he’d forgotten where he was. Arms crossed, jaw flexing, chest rising slow like every breath took effort. His eyes dragged down your back, locked on the sway of your hips, the stretch of cotton, the skin glowing under barlight like a promise. You didn’t look at him — but you could feel him. Hot. Unmoving. Barely tethered. Then, deliberately, you missed the shot.

Caleb chuckled. “Close. But see, you gotta ease into it. Pool’s all about rhythm.” You hummed. “Good to know.”

Behind you, Rhett stood now — arms crossed, jaw tense, expression unreadable. But you could feel the heat of his stare dragging down your spine. He didn’t speak. Didn’t step in. Just watched.

Because that’s what you’d both been doing for weeks now.

Next round came with bets.

“Fifty she doesn’t make two in a row,” someone called. “Hundred she scratches.” You turned your head, smile slow and sweet — a siren's curve in the shape of your lips. “Make it two hundred. And if I win — Rhett buys my drinks all night. And he takes me out again next week… somewhere with less clothes and no audience.” The crowd hollered, a few whistles cutting through the air. Caleb laughed, but it wobbled under pressure. “You’re on.”

Rhett stepped in so close his belt brushed your lower back, his breath sliding hot down the side of your neck.

“You really gonna pull that little stunt in front of everyone?”

You smiled, slow and shameless, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

“You’re the one who told me to get up there.”

He let out a breath, half laugh, half growl.

“Didn’t think you’d put the whole damn bar on its knees.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough for your chest to graze his.

“Didn’t think you’d like watchin’ it that much.”

His jaw flexed.

“You’re dangerous.”

You grinned.

“You like dangerous.”

He didn’t move, didn’t blink — just stared like he could already see the next bad decision.

“Keep talkin’ like that, and I won’t care who’s watchin’.”

He stepped closer, chest flush against yours, voice like a promise wrapped in smoke.

“That was me bein’ polite.” You let your fingers graze his belt buckle — just barely, just enough. “Since when do you do polite?” His jaw clenched. “You’re playin’ a dangerous game.” You tilted your head, all innocent heat. “Then stop watchin’ and start playin’.”

You bent low. One foot planted, the other sliding back. Cue flat against your fingers, palm to the table. You moved like velvet and smoke. The light slid over the backs of your thighs, over the sway of your hips. You exhaled once — soft, focused.

Crack. Three balls down.

The table fell silent.

You walked the edge, slow, teasing. Chalked your cue again like it was something holy. Bent again — deeper. Took your time lining up the next shot.

Thud. Another one in.

Rhett hadn’t moved.

You ran the table. Shot after shot. Purposeful. Predatory.

Then came the last — a long, brutal bank. The kind that required total control.

You didn’t rush. You bent so low your chest hovered above the rail. Licked your bottom lip. Let your hips dip. Held the moment.

Rhett muttered under his breath. You didn’t catch the words, but you caught the growl.

Crack. Drop. Silence.

You rose slow. Let your gaze drift. Caleb looked like he’d swallowed glass. Perry whooped in the back.

Rhett? Wrecked.

You crossed to him, hips swaying like a dare, every step slower than it needed to be. And when you reached him, you didn’t just lean in — you slid Rhett’s cap off his head and dropped it onto your own, tilting it low over your eyes with a wicked little smirk.

“Don’t say it,” he muttered, voice low — but not defeated, not really. Just rough with the weight of what you did to him. “Say what?” “That I didn’t see it coming.” He leaned in, eyes dragging down the brim of his own damn hat — now resting cocky and perfect on your head. “Truth is, I never doubted you for a second. I just didn’t know you had that many tricks up your sleeve.” You stepped close, slow, fingers toying with the edge of his shirt. “Oh, darlin',” you purred, dragging your nails just beneath the hem, “you think that was my sleeve?” You leaned up, mouth brushing his jaw. “That was me warming up. If you want the full show—” His eyes burned a slow trail down your body. “You keep playin’, darlin’, and I’m gonna start wonderin’ what else you're planning to steal.” You leaned in, breath brushing his mouth. “Guess it depends. How fast can you catch me?” He exhaled like it hurt. “Fast enough to pin you right here and make you forget your damn name.” “Promises, promises,” you whispered. His hand brushed your hip — barely there, trembling with restraint. “You’re a fuckin’ menace.” You smirked. “You love it.” He groaned — actual, audible, low in his throat. “Fuckin’ hell.” “You’re the one looking at me like that,” you whispered, stepping in until your breath mixed with his. “Like you want to ruin something.” “I do,” he rasped. “But not here. Not with half the town watchin’.” You slid your fingers into the hem of his shirt, teasing the skin beneath. “Then take me somewhere no one else gets to see.”

He stared at you like you were already halfway undressed. Then leaned in, lips brushing the corner of your mouth, barely a kiss.

“Keep that hat,” he growled, voice low and tight. “Just means I get to come get it later.”

You didn’t answer. Just smirked, tipped the brim low over your lashes, and turned with a sway so deliberate it felt like a dare. Like you wanted him to snap. And the crowd knew it.

A voice piped up, laughing: “Hope he brought a leash. That girl’s about to have him on his knees.” A woman near the jukebox let out a low whistle. “If he doesn’t follow her, he’s either a saint or already dead inside.” Perry barked a laugh behind Rhett. “Goddamn. She’s feral.” He clapped Rhett on the back — a solid, knowing thump. “And you? You’re a damn wildfire waitin’ to go off. Jesus, son, you look like you’ve been hit by a truck full of lust and regret.”

Rhett didn’t speak. Just kept staring like he was ready to sin in front of the whole goddamn county.

Perry leaned in, grinning. “You better move, Abbott. ’Fore she finds someone else to drink her tequila and undo that hat.”

You reached the bar, hips still rolling like honey down a warm spine, and slid your fingers across the counter with the kind of confidence only a woman could wear.

The bartender blinked as you leaned in, mouth parted like sin, voice sweet as molasses.

“He’s payin’ for this one,” you said. “And the next. And maybe dinner next Friday, if he’s lucky.” The bartender raised a brow. “He know that?”

You cast a glance over your shoulder — Rhett still rooted to the floor, looking like he’d just been hit by a truck made of heat and heartbreak.

“He’ll figure it out,” you purred. “I always leave a tip.”

You paused, let your fingers trail the rim of your glass, then glanced over your shoulder with a smirk that belonged in a backseat or a bedroom. The room still buzzed — whispers trailing behind your hips.

“Tell him if he wants his hat back, he can come get it…” You let the smile curl slow. “But only after he’s on his knees. With dessert.”

[guzhufuren]

Short breakdown of 19 QLs from GMMTV 2025 lineup

trailers: playlist link

Dare you to death

joongdunk investigating crime and murders

Head 2 Head

keensea cursing each other out as Bad Buddy 2.0 but they are rich, in fashion school and one of them magically saw visions of their shared future

Burnout Syndrome

dewoffgun in a love triangle (or poly please). Dew is a fortune teller who reads Gun's future from his palm. Gun becomes a hired double for Off because Off doesn't want to go to meetings himself. Gun is an artist and draws Off in nude lots. dewoffgun as a messy love triangle of weird coworkers

Whale Store xoxo

milklove as a depressed grocery store keeper and her flirty regular customer who is a teacher and a repairgirl. side couple exes who get back together junemewnich

Only Friends Dream On

spinoff of Only Friends. jossgawin, earthmix and ohmleng are in a messy love hexagon on a theatre play set because all of them want someone who wants someone else in that 6 angled shape. Boston is back and hopefully here to fuck all of them. Earth as director, Mix as actor, Ohm as musician, Leng as actor, Joss as actor, Gawin as costume designer, Neo as Boston the play's photographer

That Summer

winnysatang: after being found guilty of a crime Winny gets sent to the countryside and finds unconscious Satang being washed ashore. Satang has amnesia and later turns out to be a prince. side couple Mond and Ryu

My Romance Scammer

ohmfluke and juniormark in a gay marriage scam show. two brothers Junior and Ohm make two high standing men Mark and Fluke fall in love with them in order to deceive them, marry them in 1 month and get their money. after rich dudes' lawyer tells them the divorce will cost them losing half of their assets if scammers don't sign special asset-saving divorce papers, it becomes a battle of who will outwit the other and which one will fall in love

Melody of Secrets

forcebook in a mystical horror with gore. Force is a criminologist assisting the police with murders, Book is his ex suffering from memory loss and no remembrance of who Force is. Jan as the sheriff and Boun is also there

Love you teacher

perthsanta as established boyfriends. Perth is very bad at being a primary school teacher and only works as one because his boyfriend Santa is a teacher too and is very good at it. Santa gets into an accident which causes him part time amnesia and reverts him back to a state of his 7 year old self half of the time. Perth has to regularly deal with taking care of a 7 year old (man)child which was his most hated thing to do

MU-TE-LUV

7 love stories about fortune. keensea as high school rivals who are destined to fall in love. queer group of kathoey friends played by Fluke, Neo, Yacht and Lego are serving looks around their high school and decide they also want to meet men so they make prayers to a mother's spirit about sending them some. ohmpleng as rival buddhist temple gangs' enemies to lovers. and some hets

Cat for Cash

firstkhao in a cat cafe bl. First is a debt collector and gets a power of talking to cats from a debtee who dies during his visit. when the deceased debtee's son Khaotung comes to sell the shop, First convinces him to keep the business running and become business partners. they fall in love in the process with their laps full of cats

Girl Rules

messy dykes and lesbian wrongs the series. girl version of Only Friends with namtanfilm, milklove and viewmim. Namtan is a director, Love is her coworker stylist and they have a one night stand. Film is Namtan's ex. Milk is a model and pursues Film and Love. Milk isn't Love's type. View claims to be straight but Mim seems to be set on breaking her egg. it's horny, messy and blissfully gay

Boys in love

all fresh faces in the sweetest most precious high school bl ever written. a top marks student has to tutor a zero braincell student who falls for him immediately and flirts relentlessly. a different loverboy who just got rejected falls in love at first sight with a dimply cute new student. papangpodd as teachers who are shipped by everyone at that school

My Magic Prophecy

jimmysea falling in love in countryside while danger is looming over them. Sea can see the future and starts having visions of his friend's older brother Jimmy. Jimmy is an ER doctor who gets targeted by someone and has to quickly disappear and lay low for some time. Sea brings him to countryside and they gradually fall in love. side couple franctee

A Dog and A Plane

taynew in a deeply silly crack bl. Tay's friends get in trouble and he offers New to make it up to him himself instead. New asks him to find out if his flight captain boyfriend is cheating. he is, but he pays Tay off to keep it quiet and shenanigans proceed. Marc accuses the side piece flight attendant Poon of being an asshole. all branded couples fall in love

Me and Thee

pondphuwin in a mafia-ish bl. shady billionaire/mafia Pond who was raised on corny mafia soap operas pursues model Santa, but photographer Phuwin gives him a piece of mind regarding manners and consent, so Pond asks him to teach him how to pursue Santa correctly. Santa's not-boyfriend Perth is upset. Pond learns more about Phuwin, falls in love and starts an extravagant pursuit. Est is very handsome as a bodyguard butler

Wu

nanisky bl or a bromance that surely looks like a bl. a fortune teller Sky offers a failed athlete Nani to be his assistant. their meeting was predestined and they have a string of fate tying them together

Memoir of Rati

greatinn period bl. Great and Inn meet while watching the same street play in early 20th century. Inn works as a translator for a westerner and a teacher of french for thai bureaucrats. Great is a noble who sweetly romances Inn, but the familial expectations come into the picture. aouboom side couple where servant Boom secretly beats his master Aou in an underground fight

Ticket To Heaven

geminifourth bl by P'Aof set in 1996. young protege of a pastor Fourth and a defiant boy who lost his faith Gemini. Gemini moves into the seminary area to be guided back on the right path after his mother went to jail. young love, repression, homophobia, catholic guilt, and the love defying everything

[psyzcraze]

ᴀ sᴍᴀʟʟ ɢɪғᴛ.

Pairings: Sol x FEM!Reader

Genre: Fluff-ish

C/w: Stalking, yandere sol, mentions of small cuts.

W/c: 853 words 4,877 characters

a/n: First time writing for my man, ITS 12:7AM IN MY COUNTRY ALREADY, IM 47 MINUTES LATE LAWD. Thanks to @nensi / @venenna for proofreading and @shoudakii for offering to do so!!

November 1st. It's your boyfriend, Sol's birthday.

It was already 2 in the afternoon and you still haven't given him any greetings or gifts despite literally living in the same house, under the same roof as him!!

You actually wanted to surprise him but don't know how! You already gifted him so many things related to horses. Horses are his favorite animal after all.

You've already given him a horse plushie, a horse costume (for April fools last year) and even a horse blanket and pillow case for Christmas last year!!

So right now, you're just laying on the couch, in the living room, thinking of what to get him. He always insists that he's fine with anything but you just keep giving him things to show your appreciation for him!

Luckily, He's currently in his part time job as a cashier at the convenience store near the cinemas!

You suddenly stood up from your seat, put on a jacket and bolted out of the door to go to the market to buy a handkerchief. You would just embroider your name and his name along with a small cute horse on the handkerchief! You knew how to embroider after all!

You went through the market as fast as you can and got a handkerchief that suited his everyday wear! A black handkerchief with dark green seams!

You immediately went to the embroidery section and started buying your materials too. Red and orange threads since you have the rest at your home.

You immediately rang it up and went back home. As soon as you got in the house, you quickly started preparing your materials and started embroidering on the couch.

You haven't embroided in so long so you got a few small cuts on your hand but no worries! As long as you can make him a gift.

After two hours, you finally finished both of your names.

SOL ♡ [y/n]

Onto the little horsey! Beforehand, you carefully put down the handkerchief along with the needle and thread to get your phone.

HUGGOGO 🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️

4:38 PM

I'm already in the cake shop,

don't worry chat 😝😝😝

WHAT HOW TF ⁉️⁉️

MAN ARE WE SHARING

THE SAME BRAINCELLS RN

Maybe, who knows 👀⁉️

Friendship goals ig🙏🏻🙏🏻

CAREFUL ON YOUR

WAY HERE BTW

yesyes, CYA SOONNNN

You sighed in relief as you closed and out down your phone and immediately went back to embroidering the little horsey!

One and a half hour passed and Huggo finally came with the cake. He surprisingly have a spare keys to your house on his own but you didn't mind. (For some reason🧍🏻‍♀️)

"Heyy, (y/n)!!" The blue haired man said with cheer as he placed the cake down on the table. "What are you doing?" He said with curiosity as he went to you.

"Ahh, just a small gift for Sol!" You proudly showed him the progress of your work. He smiled and told you to keep it up while he worked on decoring the small living room of your apartment with Sol.

Although, from time to time.. You could see Huggo glancing at the window. You brushed it off thinking he was just looking out if Sol would come home all of the sudden.

You continued to work on your embroidery for an hour before finishing up. You immediately cleaned up your materials and put them aside. You changed into a modest dress that you knew Sol loved.

You helped Huggo finish up the decorations before closing the lights, leaving the candle on the cake unlit.

You and Huggo hid behind the couch and waited until Sol finally returned home.

Eventually, after eternity (it was 25 minutes), Your dear boyfriend, Sol, finally returned home.

He looked cautious as he opened the door only to see a dark room. He then reached up and opened the lights, You and Huggo immediately rose up.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!" You and Huggo cheered happily as you guys went to Sol, a mortified expression on his face.

"Make a wish and blow the candle, love!" You cheered as you kept your small gift hidden. "I bought the cake, just so you know." Huggo huffed proudly as he continues to hold the cake.

Sol slowly leaned down, still quite embarrassed, but he closed his eyes, made a wish and blew the candle.

"Yay!" You smiled as you kissed his cheeks, Huggo went to put the cake down on the dining table.

As soon as Huggo was out of view, You pulled out your handkerchief and showed it to him.

"It's for you! My love.. I hope it's alright." You spoke softly, a hint of nervousness in your voice. Sol immediately hugged you in, his taller form embracing you.

"Thank you for this, pumpkin.."

You, Sol and Huggo ate the cake and had a small movie night to celebrate Sol's birthday.

Little did you know, He had been watching you the whole time. He had seen the way you worked your hands off to make him that small handkerchief. And that just made his obsession and twisted love for you grow bigger than it already is.

© psyzcraze²⁰²⁵- Do not copy, translate, modify or claim any of my works as your own.

[alchemistc]

Tommy slumps further into the couch cushions, and the looks Eddie gives him is - dire, really. Tommy sort of wants to get shit faced and cry a little while cradling this throw pillow - the same one Evan had smacked him with a week ago while they crowded Eddie's too-small couch and Tommy had made fun of Evan for not knowing a single player on the Dodgers.

("You're actively rooting against them, why do you care if I know who they are?"

"Know thy enemy, Buckley," was Eddie's immediate response, and Evan had swung the pillow when he caught Tommy and Eddie fist bumping out of the corner of his eye.)

"Pretty sure it's actually cheating to come to me," Eddie intones, but he's already up and moving towards the cabinet where he keeps the good whiskey.

He settles into the recliner and gestures with the bottle, a very clear 'go on' in his expression.

Tommy thinks about maybe just - drowning himself in spirits and hiding under a rock for the rest of his life.

"I asked Evan to move in with me."

Eddie's brow kicks up. He purses his lip. Nods. His eyes do something that tells Tommy he is actively biting down on whatever it is he's thinking.

"And...you...fought. You fought about Buck ... moving in."

(Six months is such a short time, really. They've just leapt every other milestone like it's their damn job, and - Christ, they'd had keys to each other's places in weeks.)

Tommy narrows his eyes. "You know something."

"Yeah, and that's why this," he gestures vaguely in the direction of Tommy, fully pouting on his couch and commandeering too large a surface area for Eddie to actually join him there, "is cheating."

Tommy would love to point out that he just doesn't have a shit ton of friends willing to listen to him bitch about an argument he's trying to figure out without fucking imploding the whole goddamn thing. He'd love to point out that he and Eddie have already set these boundaries and Tommy is aware he's pushing it.

Tommy tilts his head against the back of the couch and stares at the ceiling. "Well if we can't talk about it, at least get me drunk."

Eddie hands him a shot glass and stands to go grab them both beers.

---

"So the thing is," Tommy says, slumped against Eddie's side and gesturing in front of himself. His hands are - they're a little blurry. Thank God he isn't on call. "The thing is."

He's got a hangnail that's been driving him nuts for weeks. He's already got a layout in his head for how to make Evan's wardrobe fit in his closet. Half of Evan's kitchen lives in Tommy's already, and he'd - he'd been sure they were in the same page.

"The thing?" Eddie asks, and - Christ, it's not like Eddie's having an easy time with any of the - anything. He's definitely overindulged right along with Tommy. Thank fuck they're not maudlin drunks, just what they need is two PTSD riddled idiots filled up with liquor and bemoaning their lives.

"What thing?"

"The thing, Tommy."

Right. The thing. "I love him," Tommy says, and Eddie's eyes go wide like he doesn't already know this. But Tommy - Tommy's said it in range of Eddie's hearing, right? He's - he's said it.

(The lone braincell shared between them whispers that Tommy has said it, once, to the curls atop Evan's sweaty head while Evan was still passed out on his chest. Fuck braincells.)

"Uhuh."

"What uhuh?"

You don't ask someone to move in with you when you still haven't worked up the courage to say I love you to someone's face, is the thing. And Evan's said it - happy and carefree and open even when Tommy just kissed him to distract him from Tommy not saying it back. He has to know, right? Tommy's said it in every other way he knows how.

"Listen, bro code broken, man, Buck's fucking terrified to mess this up with you and the whole 'you haven't said the words' has been, like, messing with his head for weeks, dude. And now outta the blue, hey move in with me? He's trying desperately not to assume you did something terrible and are using this to cover it up."

"He told you that?"

Eddie scoffs. He actually says 'pshhh', and rolls his head towards Tommy. "No." He enunciates too much. The 'o' is way too long in that word. It's a two letter word, how did he make it sound like seven syllables?

Tommy wants another shot, but Eddie had clearly not meant for that whiskey to be shared and it'd already been more than half gone when he pulled it out. There's...maybe half an ounce left. Fuck.

"Then how...?"

"I already broke bro code for you, dumbass. Can't you read between the lines?"

"Is this like the couch thing?"

The mindfuck of trying to decipher Eddie and Evan's little shared looks while Evan announced that Tommy's couch was his favorite couch had been -

He's getting off track.

He hasn't said the fucking words. He's in love with the sweetest, kindest, most beautiful, filthiest fucking man he's ever known and he hasn't said the words.

"Hamster wheel," Eddie says sagely, like that means a damn fucking thing, but Tommy's already fumbling for his phone. Texting that is out of the question, and he doesn't want to call while he's... more drunk than he'd care to admit.

Tommy shoves Eddie off his shoulder, and only gets a little spinny when he stands. He's a forty year old man, he can absolutely ask his boyfriend to pick him up from... his boyfriends best friends house and help him sober up so he can have a conversation.

"Water," Tommy says, and Eddie snorts.

"Toooo late."

Tommy feels about five years old when he shoves at Eddie's face before retreating to the kitchen.

---

"Tommy," Evan says, bent low over the couch, and Tommy blinks himself awake, regretting every drop of whiskey he'd drunk last night. He'd - there'd been water. An attempt at typing out a message. A slap fight in Eddie's kitchen when he decided to chow down on the last of the casserole Evan had left behind three days ago. More water.

This couch is way too fucking small for him. He's - he's still got one shoe on, and a blanket crumpled haphazardly over one leg. His head is pounding.

Evan looks - concerned. Maybe still a little annoyed. Fond.

"Ev," he manages, moving to sit up and regretting it when five million bees make a home right there against his frontal lobe. Smoke clears that out, right? He remembers Evan being super fucking proud that that had worked.

Evan holds up a glass of water that Tommy takes gratefully. He doesn't drink it nearly as slowly as he should.

When he's done, Evan stands, and - God his legs are long. Tommy loves those fucking legs - loves the hair that catches against his calluses on his way up towards the promised land, loves the strength behind them when he snaps his hips forward, loves the way they feel all wrapped around him when they're -

"We are not anywhere close to the sort of resolution necessary for that look," Evan says, and Tommy sighs. Because they haven't talked about it. Because they'd yelled and smacked their hands against counters and the explosion had sent them careening off in different directions and Tommy hasn't told him.

"Angry sex can be fun," Tommy wheedles, a little unnecessarily because he doesn't actually want - and on Eddie's couch to boot, which is absolutely not what he's angling for.

"I'm not mad at you," Evan says, and Tommy gives him an unimpressed look. "Okay, I'm mostly just - confused."

Fair enough. Tommy's been confusing. Tommy's been -

Tommy curls a hand around the meat of Evan's calf and tips his head against Evan's thigh. "Can we not do this in Eddie's living room?"

---

He doesn't want to admit that it took Eddie breaking all sorts of friendship rules for Tommy to even grasp the point of Evan freezing the fuck up when Tommy had mentioned his lease. He doesn't want to admit that he's fucking terrified, all the time, about the feelings in his chest that never quite settle, that bubble up at the strangest times because every-fucking-thing reminds him of Evan. He doesn't want to admit that he'd just leapt that hurdle in his mind even though Evan has been very clearly marking every other step with metaphorical (and sometimes literal) sticky notes.

Evan hands him his tea and immediately starts picking at the paper sleeve on his cup of coffee.

"I'm not afraid of losing you," Tommy starts, which is - the opposite of the point he's trying to make, and Evan's grimace tells him it's a bad place to start. "I mean that's not why I asked."

Evan is still grimacing. And that's - Christ, he hadn't even planned it, it was just - he'd been there, digging through Tommy's sock drawer, his shit tumbling out of his overnight bag at the end of the bed and his book on the history of perfume in the bedside table and his crock pot stewing something that smelled heavenly, thirty feet away, and he wanted that always, wanted that forever, wanted more than anything to enjoy all the little moments that came before he spent the money in savings hed been setting aside since successful date number five when he'd wondered if Evan had ever thought about getting married.

"You think I asked out of convenience, right? Your stuff's already there, might as well?"

"I'm not leaving things there on purpose."

"I want you to leave things there on purpose. I want all your things there, on purpose. Even when you move my milk to the fridge door and my sugar stash to the wrong pantry shelf and even when you replace my toothpaste because it doesn't have the right enamel protection."

His lip quirks. That had been a near argument too. Tommy was particular. Tommy didn't do great with change. Evan's changed damn near fucking everything, for Tommy, and he's never been more grateful for a single thing in his fucking life.

Tommy curls a finger around Evan's wrist, and his gaze darts up through his lashes. They're long, and distracting, and Tommy wouldn't mind shoving this disagreement to the side so he can brush his lips across the paper thin lids of his eyes, but -

"I missed some steps, getting there," Tommy admits, and Evan bites his lip like he's trying to hide a smile.

"My fault, a bit. I - I could see why you might have just assumed we were scaling 'em two at a time."

"Evan," he says, and breathes a sigh of relief when his free hand darts out to smooth the veins on the back of Tommy's hand.

"Next week is six months," he says, like Tommy doesn't fucking know that, and his thumb sweeps over Tommy's knuckles. "So, i -if you have anything you wanna say before then, you got a week before you can ask me again."

(Six months is the blink of an eye, actually, but Tommy hates every blink that doesn't include Evan in it.)

"You got plans?" Tommy asks, and Evan's face pinkens.

"If you're lucky I'll even tell you them."

"It's a date."

[moonsglare]

Hi!! I absolutely ADORE all your Feixiao prompts...thinking about the knotting prompts for DAYS. how comfortable are you with exhibitionism?? i can't help but think of Feixiao taking her omega in front of lingsha. Maybe she lets her join in on the fun....

[nsft utc]

SEE OKAY here’s my thesis of it all. alpha!feixiao very much dom tops omega!reader and omega!lingsha, INDIVIDUALLY. however if she’s dealing with TWO omegas at the same time she becomes a complete sub, either top or bottom. i know that sounds insane BUT two demanding, needy omegas is a lot for a girlie to handle and if one’s riding her face and the other is sucking her off or riding her dick stupid then she’s gonna lose a few braincells yk?

at that point feifei just becomes an alpha you and lingsha share and boss around and it turns her on more than she ever thought possible. she barely has enough time to breathe after slipping out of lingsha having knotted her for the past half hour before you push her flat on her back and start riding her. she’s trembling, hips stuttering unevenly unsure if she wants to chase the stimulation or run from it. whines and strangled groans fall freely from her lips until lingsha shifts over to swallow them all in a greedy, needy kiss, taking one of feixiao’s hands on your hips to slide between her legs. the poor general can only make a strained noise when she feels her own cum drip out of the healer onto her fingers, and lingsha mewls in satisfaction as those same fingers push it all back in. feixiao cums pretty much immediately when her knot slips inside you, whimpering, and the sound makes both you and lingsha shudder. the two of you press kisses to her neck, then bite, and you keen, pleased, at the extra spurt of cum that feixiao shoots into you at the sensation. she’d also noticeably twitch inside you if you and lingsha start making out. as a bonus if you and lingsha suck her off together… lingsha bobbing her head on the tip while you kiss and lick at her base she literally turns into the subbiest bottom to ever bottom no i don’t take criticism

anyway rip to the general she won’t be leaving the bed for the next like four days lmao

[old-lemon-tree]

Drunk headcanons - boys edition

How the gang acts while drunk.

Based on canon scenes and conversations from the game. The rest is just my interpretation of their characters. I also wanted to get silly with these so forgive my indulgence if someone results OOC. That said, keep in mind some of these characters have severe addictions so their entries won’t be as lighthearted as the rest.

Tldr: I was listening to Arthur’s drunk voicelines and went down a rabbit hole. Come with me.

TW: Alcohol and general drunkness / Alcohol abuse and addiction.

Arthur

He gets LOUD. Louder than the rest. During group outings he’s the one who’s constantly shushed. He will apologize profusely for it.

He will be extra friendly towards strangers. In the same way he will flirt on accident and get incredibly bashful as a result.

A brawl?! Fun! :D

Tries to provide words of wisdom Hosea once told him twelve years ago. Loses track of what he was saying halfway. That doesn’t stop him.

Continues under the cut...

Bill

Gets angry-drunk. Actively searches for fights and provokes strangers.

Will desperately seek company and comradely but act a fool the whole time and end up alone.

Dares you to drink “If you are a real man”

Will confess very deep feelings and secrets and generally open up a lot...if only you could understand a single word he’s slurring with his face pressed against the table.

Charles

The one and only time you can see Charles Smith dance.

Sobers up when is needed. How does he go from half-asleep to fighting three guys is a mystery.

Hugging and seeking out physical contact. Always has a hand on someone’s shoulder. Whether to keep them upright or balance himself that’s not clear.

He actually doesn’t enjoy getting drunk all that much. He will pretend to be drunker than he is to match everyone’s energy.

Dutch

Sleepy drunk. He’s the guy who falls asleep in the saloon with his hat over his face.

Will not show signs until is too late. One second he’s perfectly sober doing a speech, the next he can’t string two words together.

When severely drunk he will be quieter. He gets paranoid about saying the wrong thing.

He usually has game. Now he’s trying to flirt by boasting poetry and being a smartass about it. He’s peeved when for some unfathomable reason it doesn’t work.

Hosea

Liable to wander off

If someone catches him before he can disappear he will bring them along to look at this “nice spot” he saw earlier.

He takes his drunk ramblings extremely seriously so you better listen, he’ll test you about it later.

He will let you go on and on about your problems without ever complaining. Is he listening? Probably not. He’s still thinking about that nice spot. He should take you to see it.

Javier

Tries to hide how drunk he is, but his casual walk isn’t fooling anyone. He’s stumbling a lot.

Same goes for his face. No, Javier that is not a tough look, your left eye is drooping.

His flirt game is on point, though. Either that or working girls can smell how easily he gets swayed into tipping more.

Someone asks him to play a song. He enthusiastically agrees. Proceeds to play a completely different song.

John

Gets into laughing fits that last longer than they should and drag everyone along. Often laughs at his own voice if he talks too much.

He will flirt. Badly. Likely in the back of the saloon making an absolute fool of himself. Two braincells power this man.

Either that or he’s outside, burp-talking to his horse and telling them what a good boy/girl they are.

If you buy him a drink he’ll become your best friend for the night.

Kieran

Try to threaten him, and he will laugh. Is it drunken confidence? Has he always been secretly brave? Or is it that he doesn’t get people’s tone when he’s drunk so he thinks you’re joking?

If you’re sick he’s the one coming to check you’re alright.

He gets incredibly competitive if someone challenges him. Sure, I’ll jump in the lake in January, friend.

Tends to reminisce and talk about his sad childhood. Not sure this will woo the ladies, but they do look at him with the pity reserved to a limping dog.

Lenny

Gets dragged into situations™.

In all his youthful goodwill, he will try to be the sober and responsible one. He is, in fact, neither sober nor responsible.

Likes to pull little pranks. Hides the others glass, switches bottles with empty ones, moves the chairs around.

Where did he go?! LENNY!! (he’s probably with Hosea to see that nice spot he saw ea–)

Micah

Doesn’t like to get drunk around people. If he drinks it’s either way too late at night when everyone’s asleep, or when he’s on guard duty, far away from camp.

He’ll be honest with his opinions and won’t be pleasant about it. More so than usual.

Words? What are those? Grammar? Pffff! He talks like a five years old with whiskey breath and a a sailor’s mouth.

Has the worst hangovers. Waking up in the afternoon with cotton in your ears and a vice around your head kind of hangovers. He will whine about it. Incessantly.

Pearson

When he has one too many he gets sad. If you talk to him he will cry while reminiscing about the navy.

Up until that point, though, he’s the happiest you’ve seen him in days. He will join in every song. He knows SO MANY SONGS.

First to wake up the next day. Hangovers? Never heard of’em.

“Drink some water. Have you had any water? Got water, everybody!”

Sean

Has the unofficial title of drinking games official organizer.

First in line to defend his own if anyone starts something. Someone pushed you? He’s in their face before you. Not particularly effective in fights, but has the attitude and energy of a mongoose.

Will sing. Will ask others to sing. Will insult people if they don’t sing.

Tries to keep everyone's energy up even if he’s seconds from passing out. If he’s still standing he’s not drunk enough.

Swanson

Not a happy drunk or a pleasant sight. Probably the only one nobody is happy seeing with a bottle in hand.

He drinks alone most of the times.

Gets paranoid, aggressive, and accusatory when overly drunk, so the gang rarely lets him leave camp.

He will join into song if the energies around the campfire match. He usually gets overdrunk fairly quickly though.

Trelawny

He appears out of nowhere during night outings and buys everyone a drink.

He’s a chill-drunk, not much different from how he is normally, only now he’s slurring and his choice of words is a little less polished.

Impromptu magic show. How does he get better at magic while he’s drunk?!

Mostly keeps to himself but gets overly sentimental with people if they get near.

Uncle

Not different from how he is every other day. He is always drunk.

Although he loves to taunt people he’s rarely mean about it. Unless it’s Micah.

He wants no problem and if anyone starts something that could end up with a brawl he simply walks away.

He can easily predict when anyone’s had one too many and they’re about to throw up. Won’t hold your hair back or nothing, but he will pat your on the back and call you a dumbass.

[dunmomee]

Let Me Chase You the Right Way

synopsis: After an interview, you and Geto head out to meet Satoru and you discover there’s more to him than you ever expected. Then, after a scandalous moment, he tells you he wants to chase you.

a/n: This isn’t in any particular order, but I’ve carried most of the storyline over! I’ve been having so much fun writing Gojo, and Geto makes an appearance too. Thank you all for engaging with my writing!

<<Previous one-shot ❤ Masterlist ❤ Next one-shot>>

The studio was warm under the amber lights but not uncomfortably so. More like golden hour on a sleepy veranda, the kind of hush that made secrets slip easier. You and Geto sat on a deep sapphire couch, twin profiles mirrored in posture and expression. Same black hair, same violet eyes, same dimple that appeared when either of you smirked.

You always joked that you were alternate versions of the same person, split exactly a year apart. Born on the same day. He arrived first, but you had longer, fuller hair, something he still found deeply unfair.

“I don’t think the world knows you two are cousins?” the interviewer asked with a grin, crossing one leg over the other.

“I prefer the word siblings,” Geto replied smoothly. “We’re only children, born on the same day. She’s basically half of me. The dramatic half,” he added, tipping his head toward you.

“And he’s the sulky half,” you said, nudging his knee with yours. “But he makes music that makes people cry, so we let him have it.”

The interviewer chuckled. “Geto, your new album just debuted at number one on the Billboard charts. You also worked on the Crossing Lines soundtrack. What was it like working on something both your cousin and your best friend were so involved in?”

Geto’s smile dipped just slightly, shy, always a little more private under direct light. “Exhausting. Rewarding. Scoring that film was… special. Satoru’s a nightmare to work with. Y/N is an angel. Can never do any wrong. I didn’t work directly with them though. They were on set; I was holed up in the studio. In the shadows.”

You leaned back with a sip of your water. “He’s only being nice because we’re recording. He calls me insufferable when no one’s watching.”

Geto pressed a hand to his chest, mock-wounded. “I would never.”

“Would you ever feature Y/N in one of your music videos?”

“I’ve been trying to get her on a track,” Geto said, shooting you a look. “She can sing. Really sing.”

You leaned toward the mic, deadpan. “That’s slander.”

“She’s shy,” he stage-whispered. “But one day. She’s got this soft alto thing, her voice lingers. We harmonized on a demo once, and I’ve been trying to trick her into recording ever since.”

You shrugged. “Let’s see how desperate your next album gets.”

The interviewer blinked, intrigued. “You really sound like you admire her.”

“I do,” Geto said without hesitation. “She’s this other piece of me, just… existing in the middle of all this chaos.”

You blinked, caught off guard, fingers nervously twisting the hem of your cropped shirt.

The conversation flowed from career talk to childhood stories; how you used to steal his CDs, how he once pretended to be your middle school manager just to scare off a persistent boy.

“Besides your eerily similar features,” the interviewer added, “there’s another common thread; Gojo Satoru. You’ve both known him since childhood. What’s he like to you?”

“Like feeding cotton candy to a raccoon,” you said at the same time as Geto.

“Chaotic, but weirdly charming,” Geto clarified with a smirk.

You laughed, throwing your head back as your hair spilled over the top of the couch. “That’s… surprisingly accurate.”

“He’s been my best friend since we were teenagers,” Geto said, settling back. “This movie is really the first time Satoru and Y/N interact outside of me. Watching them finally talk to each other properly, felt like watching my last two braincells meet.”

You rolled your eyes. “We’ve known each other for years, yeah. But like Su-chan said, this was the first time we actually… saw each other. I used to have this fixed image of him in my head. Turns out he’s a little more nuanced than just ‘A-list actor’ or ‘my cousin’s best friend.’”

“There’s definitely chemistry,” the host added, sipping his water. “On-screen and off. The red-carpet kiss?”

“That was Satoru,” you said quickly, your cheeks warming.

“And I have yet to unalive him for that particular stunt,” Geto added with a smirk.

------

The sky was bruising violet by the time you left the studio, tucked into the passenger seat of Geto’s sleek black SUV. The city blurred past in streaks of gold and red, the hum of jazz playing low over the speakers.

“I need to stop by Satoru’s,” Geto said, one hand steady on the wheel.

You blinked, still half-scrolling. “No problem.”

You were half-lost in your phone anyway, browsing outfit options your stylist had just sent over for the next event, each photo more glamorous than the last. The soft saxophone blended with the sound of your swipes as you zoomed in on the hemline of a pearl-white gown.

Geto glanced over at your quiet frame, then back at the road. “You’re so still.”

“I’m reviewing outfits,” you replied, thumb pausing over a silver mesh number. “I need to send feedback by midnight.”

When you finally looked up, the neighborhood outside surprised you. Serene. Trees with darkening leaves. Rows of discreet homes set far back from the street. It was peaceful in a way the city never was.

“I thought he lived in the city.”

“Nah,” Geto replied, turning down a side street. “He moved to the suburbs.”

“The suburbs?” You turned to him, incredulous. “Since when does Gojo Satoru do neighborhoods and white picket fences?”

Geto smiled, a little knowing. “Since he got tired of elevators and glass walls.”

You weren’t prepared for it.

The house sat quietly at the end of a cul-de-sac, wrapped in warm wood and trailing ivy, the porch light flickering like it had been left on for someone. It wasn’t cold. It wasn’t clinical. It felt lived in. Human.

Gojo’s house was beautiful, earth-toned and modern, with a wraparound porch and golden light spilling from the windows. A pair of white sneakers sat neatly by the door.

Inside, it smelled like lavender, clean linen, and something faintly citrusy.

You stepped in slowly, your heels clicking against hardwood floors. The walls were lined with framed photos, not just from premieres or shoots, but blurry Polaroids, candid moments frozen mid-laughter. A shelf held a mix of Blu-rays and manga. A dog-eared volume of Bleach leaned beside a crystal whiskey decanter. A pair of black-rimmed reading glasses rested on a stack of scripts.

It was so him, but not the version the world knew. Not the charming, untouchable star. This was the hidden version, the one who let silence be a comfort, not a performance.

“Welcome to the lair,” Gojo said, emerging from the hallway in gray sweatpants and a worn Mets hoodie. His hair was damp, sticking up like he hadn’t bothered with a towel. Barefoot. Relaxed. Disarming.

Dangerous.

“Didn’t think I’d ever see the day,” you said, still scanning the room.

“What—me, domestic? Say it isn’t so.”

“It’s weirdly… nice.”

Geto handed him a box. “The David Bowie vinyls you had me hunt down across three continents.”

“Ah, my emotional support records.” Satoru glanced at you. “Don’t look so shocked. I live like a functioning adult.”

You blinked. “I just didn’t think you did houses. I thought you collected penthouses and lingerie models.”

He smirked. “Got the idea from someone.”

You raised a brow. “Model number nineteen?”

“No,” he said, voice low, gaze catching yours. “Someone once said a real home is where nothing feels like performance. I guess I wanted that.”

You looked away too quickly.

He busied himself with the vinyls, flipping through each one like it held secrets. “Tea? Yogurt? Ice cream?”

You shook your head, stepping into the living room. “It’s shockingly normal in here. No secret marble staircase? No neon-lit bar?”

“I’m full of surprises.” He slid the vinyl onto an empty shelf space, it looked like it had always belonged there.

Geto’s phone rang. He stepped into the hallway to take the call.

You trailed your fingers along the couch cushions. “Honestly, this is impressive, Satoru. I was expecting... I don’t know. The half-naked posters. All the Zanpakutō replicas you used to collect.”

He laughed. “They were tastefully curated. And very on-brand.”

Geto returned with a groan. “Shoko and my mom blew a tire after tennis. I’ve gotta go.”

You blinked. “Are they okay?”

He winked. “They’re fine. Satoru’ll drive you home.” He turned to Gojo. “Not one hair on her head, got it?”

He typed something into his phone. A soft ding echoed from Satoru’s pocket.

“I sent him your address,” Geto added, kissing your forehead. “Don’t argue.”

You sighed. “I could’ve just Ubered, Su-chan.”

“I’ll sleep better this way.”

And then he was gone.

Gojo gave you a mock-serious look. “You still call him Su-chan?”

“Shut up,” you muttered, heat rising to your cheeks.

Gojo smirked, stretched his arms over his head, and made his way toward a narrow credenza near the entryway. He grabbed his keys, a blue-metallic Porsche 911 Turbo S.

Of course.

“Let’s go, princess,” he said with a smirk, twirling them on one finger.

The drive was quiet, cushioned by the purr of the engine and the faint hum of the city bleeding past the windshield. Gojo adjusted the air vents without glancing your way.

“New Arctic Monkeys is garbage,” he muttered.

You snorted. “It’s not garbage. It’s just sad-boy lounge music.”

“Exactly. Garbage.”

You shrugged. “I like sad-boy lounge.”

“Of course you do,” he said, casting a sideways glance. “Remember when you used to write down every single One Direction lyric and try to sing along? You were obsessed with Zayn.”

You gasped. “How do you even remember that?”

“Because I had to hear it. Every Sunday. On the balcony. In this bizarre high-pitched croak.”

You both laughed, and the air in the car loosened. Easier now. Lighter.

“Back when everything was simpler,” you said eventually, eyes following the blur of lights outside.

“This is the part where you say, ‘Satoru, you made it more exciting.’”

You turned toward him, a quiet smile tugging at your lips. “It was chaos with you around. But I loved every moment.”

He smirked. “You’re obsessed with me.”

“Keep dreaming, Satoru.”

When he pulled into your street, he slowed to a crawl.

Your place sat on the corner, tucked behind a narrow gate softened with ivy and tall grasses. Warm porch light spilled out, pale yellow curtains glowing faintly behind the windows.

Gojo blinked. “...This is really nice.”

You smiled faintly. “Thanks. I moved in last month. Still doesn’t feel like mine yet.”

He turned off the engine and looked over. “Why?”

You hesitated, then exhaled. “Everything from the last place reminded me of him. Five years is a long time to collect... things. Mugs. Coasters. Pillows. I even had to replace my toothbrush holder.”

His expression shifted, something unreadable flickered in those glacier-blue eyes.

You opened your door. “You wanna come in? I owe you a drink for the ride.”

He paused. A fraction too long. “I don’t want to... cross anything,” he said slowly.

You looked back at him. “It’s tea, Satoru. Not a binding contract.”

Your place was warm in a way most apartments never truly achieved. Books stacked along the side of the couch, a throw blanket draped carelessly over the backrest, flickering candles scented with bergamot and honey. It wasn’t a set. It was a real place. Yours.

He followed you inside slowly, glancing at the walls.

Then he saw it.

Hanging above your small hallway table, nestled between an oil painting and a mirror: a postcard-sized sketch, faded with time, curled at the corners.

Two kids in sunglasses and matching pool floaties. Gojo had drawn it—badly—when you were fourteen. He’d signed it with a doodle of himself grinning and the words, “To Y/N: don’t forget I peaked early.”

He stared, unmoving. You were already in the kitchen.

He didn’t say a word when you came back with two mugs of tea.

“You still take yours with too much honey, right?” you asked, handing him one.

He accepted it silently. Didn’t mention the sketch.

You both sat on the couch. The silence wasn’t awkward. Just thick.

“So,” you finally said, blowing on your tea, “you ready for the storm?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“The rest of the press tour. The media circus. The ‘Are-they-dating-are-they-not’ TikTok edits.”

He smiled wryly. “They’ll crucify us if we don’t flirt in public.”

“They’re already crucifying us because you do.”

He leaned back, arm resting on the cushion behind you. “What can I say? We have chemistry.”

You scoffed. “It’s because you’re the good-looking one.”

His gaze sharpened, just for a second. “You never give yourself enough credit.”

The air shifted.

His fingers tapped his mug once, then he stood.

“Well. I should go—”

“Wait,” you said, rising instinctively.

He stopped in front of your wall, turning to you slowly.

“That sketch,” he said softly. “I can’t believe you still have it.”

You shrugged, voice quieter. “You were the first person who made me laugh after my dad passed away. I kept it.”

Silence.

He stepped toward you.

You didn’t move.

“You were my light that summer,” you said.

“I really didn’t do anything, Y/N. Suguru—”

You stepped closer, filling the gap between you two. Mugs forgotten.

He reached out, one hand brushing your jaw, thumb grazing your cheekbone.

You tilted your chin up.

“Satoru...”

His other hand slid under your shirt. He leaned in, nose brushing yours, eyes hooded.

You rose on your toes, hand slipping into the soft undercut at the back of his neck.

His lips ghosted over yours.

He kissed you. Deep. Slow. Like he’d been waiting years and still didn’t want to rush. It was nothing like the one he'd delivered for the cameras or on the red carpet. It was void of playfulness and tease. This was different.

You clung to his hoodie. His hand traced your ribcage before cupping your bra-clad breasts. Your breath caught in your throat.

Then, he pulled away. Just enough.

His forehead rested against yours.

“I want to chase you,” he whispered. “The proper way.”

And then, before you could speak. Before you could even open your eyes—

He stepped back.

Turned.

And left.

The door clicked softly behind him.

<<Previous one-shot | Next one-shot>>