DreamsInArcadia

Son Heungmin ⚽️

• One-shots

1. Morning (fluff)

The one where Heungmin tries his best to make his girlfriend breakfast in bed (and fails)

2. Pillow Talk (fluff, slight mention of smut)

The one where Heungmin can’t seem to let his girlfriend wiggle her way out of his arms

3. Hypertension (fluff)

The one where Heung-min doesn’t know how not to hover after a visit to the doctor

4. The Window (fluff)

The one where sleep-logged Sonny forgets to close the window

• Short series

1. Mistletoe (fluff)

The one where Heungmin and his best friend find themselves under the mistletoe over the years (and he’s pretty much to blame for it)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Jude Bellingham ⚽️

• One-shots

1. Put your head on my shoulder (fluff)

The one where Trent falls asleep against a window and his sister falls asleep on Jude Bellingham’s shoulder

Trent Alexander-Arnold ⚽️

• One-shots

Waking up to the uncomfortable prickles of a shiver running rampant on her skin was by no means the way she wanted to be greeted in the morning. With a disgruntled sigh, she willed her eyes to open as much as possible to try and read the time. The clock on the bedside table read 7:35 am, a perfectly reasonable time to wake up and get ready for work, yet all she wanted to do was burrow deeper into the covers and slip right back into dreamland.

She honestly had no one to blame other than herself (and maybe even Sonny). She’d insisted that her boyfriend eat something before bed, and he’d retaliated by coaxing her to staying up way past both their usual bedtime hours. She’d charmed him with stories of her grandmother playfully wielding her slipper as a weapon against her siblings, her father travelling from Goyang to Seoul on a daily basis in an attempt to woo her mother, and a few more stories in an attempt to distract him from the weariness of the day. Of course, this meant that she’d lost track as the hours that slipped away in the quiet comfort of each other's voices, filling in the gaps that too often felt like chasms in their time together.

With the demands of his life, Sonny was like a fleeting gust of wind in the summer. It was a demanding lifestyle, one that he’d fought tooth and nail to achieve. Bearing this in mind, she never once asked him to devote more time than he honestly could on her. So when he could carve out time just for her, she treasured it, sleeplessness and all. His laughter was worth the countless yawns she’d have to endure at work (much to the amusement of her coworkers).

He was worth the loss of sleep.

Shifting underneath the covers, she focused her gaze on Sonny, dozing blissfully by her side. The sight of him, long lashes resting against the curve of his cheeks and his lips parted just slightly enough for a light snore to fill the silence, made the corners of her mouth tug upwards into an amused smile. He really was the epitome of innocence at moments of stillness, the sharp edges of a man put down by the events of the day lost in slumber. His arm was draped languidly over her waist, anchoring her close to his side in that tender and protective way he always did, even in his sleep. He always ran hot; the heat and weight of his limb was nothing short of grounding, reminding her that despite the chaos of his world they were each other’s anchors.

Yesterday’s match against Liverpool had been resoundingly intense, and the following drop in points on the Premier League table had taken a toll on him. She could tell that he was beyond exhausted. The performance could honestly be chalked up to the fact that half the starting team was in the depths of a medical nightmare. They’d lost, and yet Sonny blamed no one but himself. He felt raw, exposed, his mind a blend of misery and despair, haunted by the taunting boos and curses flung his team’s way from the fans in the stands. The bitter disappointment of the evening still clawed relentlessly at his dreams.

The unhurried flutter of the window curtains signalled the cool morning breeze intruding into her bedroom, but not even the chill of the breath of wind could wake the human furnace beside her. As she lay in silent envy of her boyfriend’s ridiculously gorgeous slumbering form - whilst wondering how best to shove him off the bed in the nicest way possible - her attention zeroed in on the open window.

The claws of another chill ran shivers up her spine, so she burrowed deeper into Sonny’s side, taking full advantage of the warmth he inadvertently provided. As if sensing her discomfort, his arm immediately curled tighter around her waist, though he remained in a state of blissful slumber. He must have been running through mental notes on the match though, because his muscles were tightly coiled as if ready to spring into action at any given moment. His breathing, in contrast, remained steady and constant, and she tried to match her own breathing to his rhythm. Maybe that would help lull her back to sleep.

Her eyelids fluttered as drowsiness quickly began to pull her back into its loving embrace.

If only she’d remembered to close the damn window before bed—

And suddenly her eyes were wide open as realisation slammed into her consciousness. She was not the window culprit. It was Sonny!

She hadn’t been in the room at the time, but she could easily picture it; him half-dazed, muscles screaming in protest, vision clouded with the weight of the match’s results, and then . . . the window left ajar, as if his mind couldn't quite handle the simple task with everything else loaded on his plate.

She couldn’t even feign annoyance even if she’d tried. He must have been truly drained to forget a task that he’d practically drilled into his routine. She took the time to appreciate the familiarity of his body pressed against his own, the rhythmic thump of his heart beat, the wonderfully mind numbing scent of vanilla and something so indescribably Sonny and the way her fingers travelled up to tangle his hair, eventually pulling him from his dreams.

Face twitching, long eyelashes fluttered against the pillow as his lips parted to inhale a sharp bout of air. Her fingernails scraped lazily across his scalp, the familiarity of the motion finally waking him from whatever remnant of sleep he had been lost in.

“Sonny,” she whispered playfully. “Did you forget about anything last night?”

He grumbled incoherently in protest, shifting a little to try and pull her closer, but she wiggled back just enough to keep him succumbing to the drowsiness. As if to prove her point, she jammed her icy toes into his knees. He immediately jerked, his forehead creasing as his eyes shot open at the surprise attack, no longer able to hang onto the last tempting tendrils of sleep. Sonny blinked, not quite seeing her through the thick haze of sleep. The half-conscious, and thoroughly puzzled, sleep-logged look he gave her honestly was adorable.

“Goodnight kiss?” He tried, voice rough with sleep and doing wonders to send an eruption of butterflies fluttering around in her stomach. His cheeky little smile carried the tilt of mischief she’d come to adore.

Shuffling forward to close the gap she’d created, Sonny pressed a kiss to the warmth of her cheek, taking a second to marvel at the immediate relief of tension from his shoulders. He could spend days in bed like this with her.

“The window, Son Heung-min,” she reminded him. “I’m freezing.”

His expression adjusted as a less than stellar joke dawned on him. “Ah,” he exclaimed thoughtfully. “I’m Heung-min.”

She really did resist the force of a tidal wave in order to stop her eyes from rolling to the back of her head, so chose to jab a finger into his shoulder instead. “Baby. The window.”

Sonny blinked, trying his best to assess her words the best he could after having just woken up, before craning his neck to pin his gaze on the confounded window. Clarity finally broke through as he smashed his face into the pillow and groaned to try and escape the responsibility. The corner of his mouth, however, quirked into a small apologetic grin. “I forgot. I’m sorry.”

“Mmm. You’re lucky I’m comfortable,” she teased lightly, combing her fingers through his hair and running them across the back of his neck, watching in delight as he shivered delicately under the cool touch.

Humming in agreement, he yanked her closer to his side and grabbed the sheet so that she couldn’t escape. “Can I close it in a minute?”

She raised an eyebrow, a gesture that he couldn’t see from having his face mashed into the pillow, but definitely felt in his bones. “I can feel you glaring at me ,” he mumbled as she laughed and kissed his shoulder. It was time to get up and get ready for practice anyway.

He released a groan that came from the depths of his chest, clearly not thrilled about leaving the comfort of the bed and his beloved girlfriend, but the glint in her eyes was inventive enough to get him in motion. At a snail’s pace, he pushed himself up, his bare chest exposed to the chill in the room (he’d shucked his hoodie into a corner of the room at some point in the night). His sweatpants hung delectably low on his hips, the fabric clinging to his frame in a way that left so very little to the imagination.

In that moment, she just laid there, still in the soft glow of the morning light, admiring him as he broke into a lazy jog to close the window. His muscles rippled with each movement—his broad shoulders, the small bruises adorning his hip and legs at whatever knocks he’d picked up on the field, the defined lines of his chest and abs, all sculpted from the harsh physicality of the life he led, a few of the endless challenges and unspoken battles on the pitch. There were scars—faded over the course of time—chiselled into his skin like a map of his past, each one a testament to the strength he carried, the price he paid to be the athlete he was now.

She never asked about them; they were a part of his past that he’d really rather not have experienced. Though they were reminders that the sport he played was at times more dangerous than expected, they never scared her. If anything, each scar made him more real… more human. More her Sonny than the beloved Son Heung-min captaining both a Premier League and National team.

Her heart practically swelled triple its size at the way his back muscles rippled when he yanked the window shut with a nimble touch before turning around. The chill no longer bit at her skin, and the air was significantly warmer. The warmth, however, wasn’t simply because of the window being closed. It was him. It has always been him.

Sonny’s lips, upon catching her gaze the moment he’d turned around, curved into his signature wide smile, completing missing the fact that she was ogling him like a tall glass of cool water on a sweltering summer day. “Better?”

“Yes,” she mumbled. “Thank you.” Her voice, still a little rough with sleep, caught in her throat as her eyes raked his figure. She was fighting an internal war to keep a raging blush from colouring her cheeks and setting her ears on fire.

His smile faltered at the way she’d been silently staring at him, mistaking the quiet admiration of his build for something else. Raising a hand, his fingers ventured across the five o’clock shadow on his face. “What? Drool on my face?” he asked, a touch of humour in his voice.

She shook her head. “No,” she said, much softer now, “just… you.”

Crossing the distance between the window and the foot of the bed, Sonny beamed down at her and scrunched his brows in question. “Me?”

Words couldn’t quite articulate how much she loved him, and she didn’t quite know how to get the message across without bursting into tears. “I love you,” she said simply, choosing to tell him the truth as it simply was.

He stood still, smile melting into something that read quiet contemplation as he studied the sincerity in her tone and eyes.

"You do?" he murmured, his voice a little raspier than usual, thick with untapped emotion. He rounded the corner to stand by her side and reached over, his hand brushing gently against the apple of her cheek, a gesture that seemed to speak volumes more than words could.

She nodded, her impish little smile still there, but now tinged with a softness that only he could extract from her core. "Yes," she whispered again, a little breathless at the unexpected intensity of the moment, "just you, Sonny."

The silence seemed to stretch for hours, though it was a glacial ten seconds at best. He studied her, his gaze deep and knowing, like he was searching for something in her eyes. And then, with a slight curve of his lips, he said it back, his voice so raw, so full of everything he usually kept hidden beneath multiple layers of humour and sarcasm.

“I love you.”

It was simple, but the way he said it—the way his fingers ghosted over her cheek before trailing down to cup the back of her neck, the way his gaze softened, like the weight and noise of the world didn't matter as long as she was there—made the words feel more real than anything. Then, slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing against her in a soft, lingering kiss.

When she pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, his breathing steadier now. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

“Yes, you do,” she countered, moving her hands from underneath the covers to rest on his shoulders. “And if you can’t believe that right now, then believe this: I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.”

He didn’t respond with words this time. Instead, he wound his arms around her frame to pull her in, holding her like she truly was the only thing anchoring him to the world. And perhaps, for the time being, that was exactly what she chose to be.

They stayed like that for a while as the morning stretched on, ignoring the cries of the alarm that alerted them of the danger of running late for work. And honestly? The world could wait.

happy new year everybody 💙