For Me, August Was And Will Always Be The Odd One. Where The Season Changes And The Air Is Not So Humid

For me, August was and will always be the odd one. Where the season changes and the air is not so humid or hot. Like half cold tea or stepping inside after one day being out and about.

August is where I never mind about how many days until weekend or how many days until it ends. August is where I never count, because if I do, then I grow up faster.

For me living through August is both scary and exciting. In a way little kids knows her birthday is coming around the corner, but also the 20th, 21st, 22nd birthday and the number is the scary part.

For now, August is where I lay down and count my blessings before another year passed and I'm forced to be something that I'm not ready to be, someone that I'm not used to be.

Slow morning | bang chan x reader | 615 w.

When you hear birds chirping and bright lights penetrating your eyes, you stir in your sleep, a little uneasy. You try to regain your consciousness quickly when you feel an empty space next to you. That is when you realize that you slept throughout the whole night. Something that doesn’t happen much for the last 4 months. You slowly slip out of the bed, tying your hair in a ponytail.

Your feet take you to the connected room, the door slightly ajar. When you peek inside, you find out the reason for your undisturbed sleep last night. Watching as Chris sleeps on the armchair next to the crib. One of his hands stretched out inside the crib, your daughter faintly trying to reach it with her small hands. Padding across the carpeted floor, you take a moment to bask in the scenery. Your eyes caught a glimpse of your husband’s phone on top of the changing table. Quietly picking it up, you snap a picture of the moment when your baby responds with a soft giggle. You send the picture to yourself before placing the phone back down and picking up your daughter.

You take a look at your daughter, judging if she needs a change of diaper before you prepare breakfast. But it seems like she’s already in a good mood. You took two slices of bread and put it on the toaster. While waiting, you took out a cup from the cabinet and poured yourself milk.

“Did you have a good night's sleep baby?” you ask your daughter with a small voice. She responds with a grabbing motion to your face, smiling. You took a sip from your cup, feeling a little bit better than usual.

“Good morning,” you heard a sleepy voice from behind you, followed by a pair of strong arms circling your stomach. Chris sinks his head in your nape, giving it feather kisses. “Sleep okay?”

“Good morning, baby,” you respond, tilting your head to meet his. “I had the best sleep.”

“Good, good, you look so tired,” he said again, not letting you go even as you tried to move. You only laugh in response. Tired is the default look for newborn parents, that’s for sure. But he’s sensible enough to take a month off after you give birth. When you feel like you’ve got the pace of being a mom, you assure him that it’s okay if he wants to come back to the studio. It took the both of you a week to settle on that, and he never stays too far away from his phone, in case you need him right away. He also took a drastic change in his working hours, coming home early to help you take care of the house, and trying not to leave too early in the morning just to bid goodbye to your daughter.

“Coffee?” you offer him.

“Yes, please,” he answers, finally letting you move freely. “Let me take her,” he said again, reaching for the baby. You turn to position the baby comfortably before returning to the pantry. He took a seat at the dining table, starting his baby talk that never makes you not smile, asking your daughter all kinds of questions.

You set down his coffee cup along with a sandwich you quickly assemble on the table. With that, you murmur a soft “thank you,” leaning forward to place a kiss on his lips.

“What for?” he asks, putting on a confused face.

“For making me the luckiest woman in the world,” you respond with a smile.

“Baby,” he said, taking his chance to lean in and return your kiss, “You’re not the only lucky one.”

a/n. it's 3 am and I'm thinking abt chan as a dad. very normal i guess? every time i remember those 2 episodes of him on the return of superman, my heart seriously gets warm... he'd be the best dad out there🥹🥹

divider from @cafekitsune (thank you<3 will be using them for future posts too.)

the messy ginger hair is it for me

Bang Chan ✧ Perfect Day with SKZ

pet names | hwang hyunjin x reader | 519 w.

"What did you just call me?" Hyunjin scowled. His hands once again placed on each hip. It was impossible to not laugh at the scene, and that made him even more enraged in all the endearing ways possible for you.

"Hyunjin," you whine as he walks out of the room. Following him to the kitchen, you quickly circle your hand on his torso, trying to put your chin on his shoulder, but fail miserably because he keeps shaking you off. You laugh at his antics. All this because you called him by his name and not the designated pet names you both had for each other.

"I don't know any Hyunjin," he said, running away from you once again to the couch.

"That's literally your name," you exclaimed, half laughing. You sat next to him, nudging his feet with your own, trying to annoy him. He quickly grabs a pillow to prevent you from trying to use the hug attack. "Hyune," you called again, this time with a more common nickname.

He didn't budge. Not even a twitch of an eye.

"Baby?" you tried another one with a softer one. That sure earned you a little sarcastic smile from the man himself. He looked down at you, still not impressed by your whole shenanigans. He pressed his body even further into the couch, leaving no space for you to slip your hand.

"No," he said, squinting at you.

"What do you mean no?" you jolt back in surprise. Mainly because that's what you always call him. Baby. Just like the pet names, he's the biggest pouty baby you've ever known.

Hyunjin looks as if he's thinking something before you notice the mischief in his eyes.

"I want new pet names," he said, smirking. You looked at him, gears starting to run in your head.

"Honey?" you offer softly. He placed a finger under his chin before tickling you, making you fall from the couch. He saw this coming and held on to your body before you could hit the floor. He sets you down on the floor gently before attacking you with tickles again.

"I'll stop when you give me one I like," he laughed maniacally.

"Sorry! Sorry!" you exclaimed, trying to escape from his grip. "Boobear! Boobear!" you shouted in between laughs. Hyunjin laughs along with you, refusing to stop.

"Love, my love," you offer another one, starting to run out of energy. Hyunjin seems to think for a few seconds before he stops tickling you.

"I like that," he said, pushing the hair on your face away so he could hold it.

"You know it was just a prank, right?" you ask, out of breath.

"I do," he smiles playfully before placing a kiss on the tip of your nose. "Now we're even." You roll your eyes in annoyance, smiling nevertheless.

"I'll get you some water, stay here," he said before standing up.

You saw another chance, propping yourself before you opened your mouth and shouted, "Thanks, bro." Immediately bolting away to the room with erupting laughter.

Hyunjin let out a deep sigh, speechless and definitely unamused.

a/n. my honeybun, pumpkin, choco pie, this is so cliche please don't attack me it's sounds better in my head

HEARTS + STARS | pattern 01.

──────── ⵌ NEUTRALS ...

──────── ⵌ RAINBOW ...

thinner lines because I’m experimenting ! I kinda dig it; I might change the rest of my line dividers to thinner lines. anyway, more post dividers and other patterns coming soon. :3

patterns : 001 / 002 / 003 / 004 / 005

feel free to use; please like, reblog, and credit〜

more dividers →

hellooo😭 why is this so soft i need this so bad😭

one to ten | jww

summary: your roommate may not know how to help you feel better, but that won’t stop him from trying. pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader au: roommates to ?, pining, sick fic type: drabble (hurt/comfort, fluff) rating: pg13 — still, minors do not have my consent to interact with my content. cw: gn!spoonie!reader; downbad!best boi!super shy!roommate!wonu; chronic illness/pain is implied but no diagnosis is specified; hand-holding 👁️👄👁️; barely proofread because brain fog, lol. a/n: this is super self-indulgent and based on my own personal experience with chronic illness (fibromyalgia), so it may be different than yours!! wc: 1k

Wonwoo isn’t psychic, but he knows that something is up the second he gets home from work.

Walking through the door of your shared apartment, he moves immediately to deposit his keys on the nearby hook and finds that yours are already there. Odd, he thinks, given your habit of imposing your own overtime. Your commute is shorter than his, and you still never beat him back here.

He looks down as he toes off his shoes, carefully maneuvering them across the mat to avoid both your heels and your sneakers, which don’t seem to have budged since this morning. Wonwoo frowns. It’s rare for you to skip out on the gym at the end of the day, but it’s unheard of for you to miss work — even when you should, in his non-expert opinion.

That’s a bit of a red flag, he’ll admit.

Wonwoo locks the door behind him, pads off across the kitchen and through the adjoining living room, and eventually stops at your bedroom door. It’s cracked open — a secret code of yours, he’s learned. One that means you don’t want to be alone, but you feel the need to warn him about what’s on the other side. Usually, it’s you, deflated in your bed in a way that you find embarrassing. Still, even on your worst days, he’s never seen you look bad. 

He’s not convinced that you could if you tried.

Softly, Wonwoo raps his knuckles against the doorframe to warn you. In response, he gets a muffled, “Hello?” It wraps around his heart and squeezes just a little. He loves that about you; how gentle your voice is when everything else you’re experiencing feels the opposite.

You lift your head up just enough to make eye contact with him as he slips through the doorway, and you smile. If it aches to do so, you pretend like it doesn’t.

He clears his throat awkwardly. “Hey.”

Admittedly, this is the part that Wonwoo feels he’s worst at. He’s never quite sure what to ask or what he can do to help, always simultaneously afraid of being patronizing or too hands-off. It’s a balancing act; his equilibrium is off.

And, god, he’s so shy when it comes to you. He can’t make himself act on any of the comforting impulses he absolutely has, so he simply pauses at the end of your bed and sweeps his eyes over your frame. A triage of sorts, he supposes.

You’re on your right side, hugging a hot water bottle, and there’s a Munchlax plush between your knees to keep them separated. Your left hip hurts, he guesses. It’s probably safe to assume that the rest of you does, too. Crinkling his nose as he thinks, he asks, “One to ten?”

Another code. 

Wonwoo has to adjust the scale when you answer — three — because your three is his eleven. The good news isn’t lost on him, though: Your pain was a six during the last flare. Things may not be great, but they’ve definitely been worse.

“Mostly just tired,” you sigh, as if you can hear the calculations he’s running in his head. “I was this close —” You lift an arm and pull your thumb and index finger in so that they’re almost touching. “— to making it out the door this morning.” 

Dropping your arm again slowly, you pat the space next to you in silent invitation. Wonwoo’s body hesitates, even though his pulse doesn’t. It’s par for the course, unfortunately for him.

He wonders how many moments like this need to pass before his palms don’t sweat anymore. Will filling the spot next to you on your bed, on the couch, or even in your passenger seat ever not affect him like this?

Maybe not.

He’s okay with that, so long as you keep giving him the opportunity.

You laugh, and it single-handedly diffuses the tension in his posture. “I think the side of the bathtub got taller. I almost had to yell for you to haul me out of there, but I managed.”

“Proud of you.” He’s chuckling now, too, but that doesn’t undermine how much he means it. Getting your body to cooperate with you is always hardest in the mornings.

For what it’s worth, he would’ve come running if you’d called.

Carefully, Wonwoo sits down on the vacant side of your bed and scoots closer to you, knowing you’ll call him out for leaving distance and anticipating how badly he'll blush if you do. It’s so much easier for you to be close to people than it is for him, but he’s trying. 

He hopes you see that.

There’s a microscopic wince when you wiggle your way towards him. It’s replaced quickly by a satisfied little grin once you settle, your body curving around his bent knee like a puzzle piece slotting into place.

“You always run warm,” you muse. “I’m jealous.”

Wonwoo blinks, a little dumbfounded that you’ve noticed — not that he should be, really. He’s obviously picked up on a lot of trivia about you since you took over his former roommate’s lease several months back. If he knows the order of your skin care routine, it’s not weird for you to know that he can’t sleep without a fan on.

Should he have noticed this about you by now?

Curiosity makes him bold, apparently. He pulls his palm off the mattress and touches his fingertips to the back of your hand. “Goddamn,” he whistles. 

His hypothesis is proven the second he touches you — you’re freezing — but Wonwoo admittedly gets a kick out of the temperature disparity. He can’t help but run the pads of his fingers absentmindedly over your skin, tracing nonsense patterns. You can’t help the pleased hum that slips out of you as you watch his ministrations; or the way your heavy eyelids start to interrupt your view. 

Even when he’s sure you’ve been lulled to sleep, Wonwoo keeps doodling. It’s got to be exhausting to exist in a body that always aches, and you deserve whatever rest you can get. Truth be told, he could probably stay like this for hours if that would help. He’d be doing the same thing at his PC, anyways, holding a mouse instead of your hand.

Yeah, he thinks, this is a much better set-up.