#I can't believe I actually wrote all my fantasies down in this fic

[maithefluffychicken]

NEXT CHAPTER

Whatever you want, birthday boy.

Steve is 33, Eddie is twenty something. Age gap Steddie fic I wrote for my birthday. Very explicit, semi public sex.

"Thirty three," Steve sighs, melancholic. "I can't believe it."

"Well, think about it this way," Dustin opens his mouth and Steve knows whatever he's going to say it's not going to comfort him at all. "If you were a hobbit, you'd be an adult at last!"

"How's that supposed to be a good thing?" Steve groans, looking at the kid (ok, not a kid anymore since he's now twenty, but still a kid in Steve's eyes). "You basically told me I'm old even in that fantasy world of yours!"

Robin, bless her, punches Dustin's shoulder as punishment, getting a satisfying grunt of pain from him.

"I told you that that bit was unnecessary, Henderson," Robin chastises him and before Dustin can open his nosy mouth, adds, "what Steve needs is to go out and have fun tonight, what do you say, Harrington? Party night?"

"We already have plans, remember?" Dustin mumbles between gritted teeth, opening his eyes comically and pointing at Steve with his head.

"It's ok, I know about the surprise party, kid, you can talk about it freely," Steve shrugs and Dustin blinks several times, flabbergasted and offended.

"How…"

"Baby Wheeler," Robin says as an explanation, and that is, in fact, enough to get Dusting to ramble for a whole hour about how he can't trust anybody.

The party with the kids is, well, pretty nice. Sure, they're the kids he used to babysit when they all were… actually kids, but Steve loves all of them more than he loves his own family.

Robin is there, being the funny, eccentric aunt, pulling silly pranks for all of them and dancing horribly, dragging the girls with her and making them laugh.

Dustin has chastised Mike for hours, making Steve laugh at his antics, but now, the curly haired boy is enraptured watching Erica Sinclair dancing with El and Max.

Meanwhile, Lucas is crumpling a disposable cup, frowning at Dustin and his lovesick, bright eyes. Oh well, that's going to be fun. Steve, with a fond smile on his lips, wonders how this all will end.

Mike is talking quietly to sweet Baby Byers, who is blushing and hiding his smile behind his cup. These two should talk sooner or later, too, even if privately Steve thinks Will could find someone better.

That's what Mike thought about him when Steve was dating Nancy, and he can understand it now.

Jonathan and Argyle are already stoned and laughing about god knows what, sprawled on the coach. Steve is grateful this is not his house, he'd hate to clean up all this mess the next morning.

"Well, well, birthday boy," Nancy greets him, pouring herself a drink. "A little bird has told me that you're feeling down about your birthday."

Steve grunts.

"My birthday is ok," Steve shrugs. "It's the number that makes me sad. I'm old."

Nancy huffaws. "We are the same age."

"You're younger and prettier," Steve pouts, making Nancy laugh.

"God, she's right, you're moping, you need to get laid," his ex-girlfriend sighs with a sad smile.

"I don't-"

"Yes! Shut up," Robin interrupts them, how she has heard them, Steve doesn't know. She wraps her lanky arm around Steve's neck. "Steve needs to go out and find a nice someone. If you know what I mean. I'm taking him out now that we're done here."

"You're not-"

"Shut up, Steve, this is not about you," Robin cuts him, putting her dainty index finger in his lips.

"It's my birthday and you're talking about me and my sex life."

"What sex life, Steve?" Nancy asks with a grin. Robin, of course, snorts inelegantly.

"Auch, that was unnecessary, Wheeler."

"No more talking, baby," Robin says and starts tugging at Steve's arm. "You have your tight jeans, your shirt is ok, and your hair is amazing as always. Let's go!"

"But I want another piece of cake!" Steve tries, and loses.

He wasn't expecting a cake at all, and it was very nice when El and Max appeared holding a three chocolates cake, candles lit atop of it and everything.

"You'll have more cake later, say bye to everyone," Robin orders him, not unkindly.

Steve obliges with a tired sigh.

"Bye, everyone."

-

The club is fucking crowded when they arrive. Robin announces to the security man at the door that it's his best friend's birthday, and to Steve's dismay, she starts telling everyone who's listening that it's actually Steve's twentieth five birthday.

Fuck. Steve wishes to have twenty five years again.

He was in better form at that age, still playing basketball regularly and enjoying swimming, back when his lungs were in top form.

Steve knows objectively that being thirty three doesn't make him old, holy fuck, he knows that.

But it's sad how his life turned out.

He dropped uni because his parents lost all their money in their poorly chosen investment and his shitty minimum wage salary job wasn't enough to pay his studies and rent.

His high school sweetheart, his Nancy, broke up with him after that. Sure, they're friends now, but it was, in Nancy's words, bullshit. All that happened between them was bullshit until they managed to be civilized in front of each other again.

Then…, well, shitty job after shitty job, trying hard for nothing. He ended up working at Hopper's mechanic workshop - man, that's a story to tell some day. He's grateful that Hopper didn't give up with him.

But then again, no love, not too much money. At least Steve kept his friends and his health.

"This year is going to be your lucky year, Steve!" Robin yells at him when they manage to reach the bar, digging elbows here and there to make themselves a place. "Thirty three is a master number, baby, this is your year!"

"If you say so…"

"But today you're twenty five again!" His best friend keeps yelling to make herself be heard over the music.

It's not the kind of club Steve would choose. It's not the club neither of them would choose to spend the night, now that Steve stops and looks around. Why Robin even knows this place unsettles him.

First, the music is all wrong. Rock and roll blasting through the massive speakers, the riff of an electric guitar thrilling Steve's eardrums.

Second, the place itself. Dark and grimy as usual, yes, but the walls are covered in posters of bands Steve doesn't even recognize. Well, most of them. He knows Led Zeppelin because of Hopper, and AC/DC, but that's all.

Third, the people around them: metalheads, all of them. Bare skin covered in black ink tattoos, tight black jeans, well worn band t-shirts and ripped black lace everywhere. Fuck, is that guy wearing eyeliner?

Steve perches on the bar to call to any of the bartender's attention and then he sees it: the blonde girl that is, possibly, the reason they're in this metalhead club.

He looks at Robin before even doing a once over to the girl. His best friend smiles sheepishly at him.

"Really, Robin?" Steve mouths, arching a brow.

Robin shrugs with her beatific smile still on her lips. "Sorry," she mouths back at him.

The blonde girl, wearing a black crop top and revealing some tattoos, is talking with another waiter, a guy. Tall, with long, curly hair. He’s wearing a long sleeve shirt with black sheer material that clings to his toned arms and chest.

"You don't even respect my birthday now," Steve yells at her. The loud music and the fact that he's smiling at her makes the whole accusation fall flat.

"I still want you to have fun and get laid, try something new!" Robin says, tugging at his sleeve, and ok, she's right, Steve can have fun tonight and enjoy himself.

-

“I’m gonna do it,” Eddie says, a wolfish smile tugging at his lips.

“No, no, no, I forbid it,” Chrissy puts herself between Eddie and his target.

“But, look at him!” Eddie pouts. They’re yelling at each other so they can hear what they’re saying, even if Eddie is sure Chrissy can read his mind by now. “Or, don’t know, look at the girl that is with him and let me go, whatever.”

“Exactly, Eddie,” Chrissy has that exasperated look when she speaks. “He’s with a girl, you don’t know if…”

“Excuse me, madam,” Eddie cuts her, “but my gay-radar never, ever, fails.”

“Yes, yes, I know, but…”

“Then what’s the problem?” Eddie asks, looking at the guy that has him enraptured over her shoulder.

“The problem is that we don’t serve free drinks just because, Eddie!”

“I’ll find an excuse, darling,” Eddie promises, and shoves her to get to his target.

The target is the cutest preppy guy he has ever seen in his whole life. A white t-shirt that stretches over his pecs, of course, and a white and red windbreaker that makes him look broader than he probably is, Eddie wants to discover it. He’s sure that the guy is also wearing tight jeans, he looks just like the type, a jock. Tall, pretty face, great hair, like a white, bright beacon in a sea of metalheads wearing all-black outfits: the guy seems lost here, at the Horned Demon, with his looks and his styled hair. Eddie wants to ruin him. He can’t stop thinking about the unnamed things he wants to do to him while he approaches him and the girl that is talking to him.

“Hello, handsome!” Eddie greets him with a wink when he reaches their spot, leaning across the sticky bar so the preppy guy can hear him. “What can I do for you?”

It’s so difficult to be sultry while Judas Priest is blasting at full volume, but Eddie fucking tries, wearing his most charming smile and looking at the guy with interest.

The guy doesn’t have the chance to speak, though. The girl who accompanies him - Eddie is 90% sure she’s not his girlfriend - jumps over him, wrapping an arm over the guy’s shoulder, and yells at Eddie.

“He likes cranberry vodka!” She exclaims happily. “Can you put a little umbrella or something on it? We’re celebrating!”

“Really? What are you two celebrating?” Eddie asks, elbow propped on the bar, eyes raking over the preppy guy, grinning at him openly.

“It’s his birthday!” She yells again. “He’s twenty five today!”

Eddie’s grin widens. There it is, the excuse he was looking for.

“You got it, handsome birthday boy who likes cranberry vodka,” Eddie winks again at him. He’s good with his eyes, he knows it, Chrissy has told him, and Gareth hates when he puppy-eyes him, so Eddie knows he can weaponize them easily. “What about you?”

“Oh no, it’s not my birthday, thanks!” The blonde girls answers, and fuck, Eddie has to laugh. He immediately likes her, even if he’d hate if she’s actually the guy’s girlfriend.

“Good to know!” Eddie snorts. “Want something to drink?”

“She’ll have jack and coke, thanks!” The guy answers now, and, ok, it’s weird that they order for each other, but still, Eddie’s hope is strong.

-

Steve is stunned, there’s no other word for it. The bartender is hot, and undeniably young. This close and even in the dim light, Steve can appreciate his toned arms and chest and abs. God bless his stupid sheer lycra shirt. His torso is spattered with tattoos that Steve can't recognize but it doesn't matter, suddenly, a flash of himself worshiping and lapping these tattoos floods his mind.

The bartender flashes a grin to Steve, who returns it back the best he can, and by the smug look on Robin's face, Steve knows that she knows.

"What?!" He asks loudly.

"Nothing!" Robin grins knowingly. It's going to be a long night.

Just a few minutes later, the hot bartender is back with Robin's jack and coke and his own cranberry vodka.

"There you are, birthday boy!" He announces with a pretty smile that makes Steve go hot all over. Maybe he should take off his jacket.

Steve looks at his drink, the glass decorated with a silly pink umbrella, and smiles, reaching for his wallet and opening over the bar to pay.

“This one it’s on the house, handsome!” The bartender yells at him, putting his hand over Steve’s, stopping him. Steve looks at him quizzically, the other guy shrugs, his smile still in those plush lips, showing his teeths. “Happy birthday!”

Robin elbows him in the ribs, shouting at him that she’s gonna pay her drink to the pretty blonde girl that is still at the other corner of the bar, and Steve starts panicking almost immediately.

He used to be suave, when flirting. He used to be able to stay calm and smooth in front of someone pretty. Maybe with age he lost his ability, or maybe it’s the lack of alcohol in his system, or the loud heavy metal music that is deafening him.

“T-thanks!” He stutters, feeling deeply stupid.

He wants to say something flirty to this guy, he wants to know his name. He’s having ideas, everything he’d be already doing if he were twenty five again and not thirty three. Oh, Steve used to have the best ideas, he had so much fun when he was younger.

Now it seems that a pretty boy with dark eyes looking at him it’s enough to render him speechless.

“My break is in fifteen minutes!” The guy tells him, leaning into the bar to get close to Steve. By instinct, Steve leans on too, his eyes fixed on this man’s lips. “If you want to have some fresh air!”

Oh well, not subtle, not in the least with the way the long haired bartender is looking at him, biting his lower lip, and fuck. Steve wasn’t subtle when he was younger, either.

“I’d love to!” Steve manages to shout in the guy’s ear, earning a wide grin from him. Dimples, for fuck’s sake, the man has dimples when he smiles like this, and Steve feels himself sweating already.

Sadly, the bartender vanishes from his side to attend the other customers, and Robin appears by his side just a moment later. When she tilts her head, Steve notices that Robin’s face is tainted with lipstick in the shape of a kiss.

“How?!” Steve asks her, amazed.

Robin shrugs, sips her drink. “Jealous?”

“Yes, obviously, since when are you good at flirting?” Steve demands to know, faking being offended. There was a time when Robin tripped all over herself the moment a pretty girl passed by her side. Those were the times, my friend.

“Since you taught me!” Robin yells at him, laughing. “Come on, King Steve, where’s your charm lately?”

-

“What do you mean you’re taking your break?” Chrissy asks him once they’re at the storage room.

“I mean that…”

“You already took your break, Eddie!” Chrissy reminds him, and he bites his lower lip, puts his best puppy eyes to her, pouts.

“But he’s interested in me, Chris!” Eddie sobs like a child. His best friend sighs. “Gareth and Jeff are here already, and Freak will be here in like, two hours, the club is not going to be unattended, it’s not so crowded tonight.”

Eddie knows he’s pushing his luck: first the free drink, now asking for a second break. His shift will be over when Freak arrives, as he said, in two hours. But he knows that a lot of things could change in two hours and he really is into this preppy birthday boy with droopy eyes and kissable lips and broad shoulders.

He simply wants to see if they’re compatible before asking him to wait for him so he can walk him home, and a second break it’s perfect for that. A little bit of flirting, maybe a kiss, see if this guy and the butterflies in his belly are something he wants to take home with him at the end of his shift.

“Come on, Chris, I’ve been in this dry spell for months,” Eddie pouts again. “Also, I saw you kissing that blonde girl.”

Chrissy’s eyes widen and she looks at him with murder rage, nostrils flaring, and Eddie knows he just won.

“It’s his friend, you know…” Eddie shrugs nonchalantly. “I can get her number for you, if you didn’t ask her for it, if you just…”

“Ok, ok, fine! Whatever!” Chrissy exclaims, wiggling her arms in the air. Eddie grins and fist pumps in victory, mouthing a yes between his teeth. “I want her number before you leave tonight.” Chrissy adds primly, leaving him alone at the storage room.

-

With his jacket draped on his arm, Steve tells Robin about the bartender, asks her if she thinks it’s a bad idea, but his best friend howls an awful sound at Steve’s words, making him shake his head, even if he’s smiling.

“Tell me you told him yes, Steve, or so help me…”

“I told him that I’d love to, yes, gosh!” Steve answers, but he’s now feeling a bit lighter, a bit… high. Cran vodka it’s not so strong to him, he’s sure this feeling is related to the hot, young bartender that wants his attention tonight.

“Good!” Robin exclaims and clinks her drink with Steve’s. “You’re both adults, go have some fun!”

“What about you?” Steve asks, suddenly worried about leaving Robin behind.

“I’ll be good, I texted Jonathan and Argyle, they’re already on their way!” She grins at Steve. “But I plan to take someone home later, too, honestly.”

“The blonde girl?” Steve asks her now, wiggling his brows to make Robin laugh.

“D-uh!” Robin looks for the blonde girl who is serving drinks at the bar. “She’s so pretty it hurts me, Steve, and she’s so nice!”

“She already kissed you, didn’t she?”

They banter like this for a while, laughing at themselves. It’s good, fuck, is good to be able to laugh at the little silly things while having a drink. They never stopped doing it, so Steve doesn’t know why all this melancholy is coming from.

Someone taps him on his shoulder and Steve turns to see him. This close they’re almost the same age, Steve finds himself looking at the biggest dark eyes he has ever seen.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the guy says with that blinding smile that is making Steve feel so weak tonight. “I just, my break just started…”

“You don’t interrupt anything!” Steve rushes to say, to Robin’s amusement.

“Yeah, it’s ok, I’m his lesbian soulmate, Robin!” She introduces herself even before Steve can say something else. Worst wingwoman ever.

“Robin! My friend Chrissy, at the bar, wants your number, maybe you could..,”

“Well, gentlemen, see you later, have fun!” Robin exclaims, stepping between them holding her drink over their heads and rushing towards the bar like something is chasing her. Steve shouts a loud good luck to you! at her back, just to find that the guy is looking at him intently.

Steve clears his throat, awkwardly.

“You wanted some fresh air?” He asks.

The bartender nods and without wasting a single second, he grabs Steve by his wrist and leads him through the crowded place to the barely hidden back door.

Steve’s heart is thumping in his chest, following this guy he doesn’t know at all until they get out of the club, the cold night breeze welcoming them in the alley. It’s dark, dimly illuminated by the streetlights of the adjacent street. Steve can still hear the faint drumming and bass of the music blasting inside.

“Ah, this is better," the cute bartender exhales, tossing his head back, letting Steve ogle at his long neck, dampened curls sticking to it. Steve swallows dry at the sight in front of him.

Steve can't believe this guy wants to spend his time with him.

"I never saw you here before," the bartender says, opening his eyes and looking at Steve. Flustered at being caught, Steve avoids his eyes. The cute guy is smiling, though.

His voice is deep, calm, and washes over Steve easily. Even with his eardrums still pumping with the ghost of the loud music, Steve falls a bit more now that he has heard his voice.

"Not really my scene," Steve admits. "Robin was the one who dragged me here."

The cute bartender's smile widens. "Then I guess I should thank her," he adds, closing the distance with Steve.

Oh fuck, shit, it's happening. Steve feels his blood boiling under his skin, just because of the proximity.

Steve didn't even ask for this guy's name. Maybe it's how the cute guy likes to do it, no names, not complications. What if Steve's heart hurts a little at that thought. He's the one actually lying to him, not saying his real age to him.

"Well, well, birthday boy," he says with his rumbling voice, stepping into Steve's space. Steve smiles at him, feeling butterflies in his tummy. "I have twenty minutes and I’m all yours.”

Fuck. Yes.

Steve smirks when the cutie wraps his arms around his neck and he feels bold enough to span his hands around the guy’s thin waist and pulls him closer, their bodies crashing together. This is Steve’s area of expertise. Maybe he has forgotten how to flirt, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t remember how to pull his moves.

The reason why he was called the King of Hawkins’ High.

It lites every nerve on his body when he cradles the guy’s pretty face on his hand, cupping his jaw and cheek softly, drinking the way he looks at Steve, dark eyes widening and breath hitching. Steve smiles and leans in slowly, just in case the bartender would want to take a step back, just in case he’s having second thoughts. But that’s not the case. They both find each other in the middle, lips brushing slowly.

Steve can make those twenty minutes pretty amazing for the guy that is now buzzing with nervous energy in his arms.

He feels high.

-

Eddie is used to one night stands and summer night flings. He’s a hot bartender with a strong sexual energy - he likes to tell himself that while he’s working at the club, when he’s at home reading with his glasses on and his sweatpants there’s zero sexual energy, but that’s another story.

The thing is, he flirts a lot, it’s part of the job, really. He has luck more often than not. He’s used to people lusting after him, and sometimes Eddie indulges - he indulges a lot. Sure, lately he’s been suffering this dry spell, but it was his choice. No one has picked his interest lately.

Tattooed, metalhead hot guys. Pretty girls with red, plush lips and soft curves. Eddie has never been picky, but his circle is limited, so he’s used to the same types again and again.

He’s also accustomed to quick affairs, he doesn’t even remember the last time he cared to ask someone’s name. Sometimes it’s just about a rushed handjob on the alley. He has only to be careful that Gareth hasn’t had the same idea at the same time. That was a nightmare of a night. Now both of them double check.

Rarely, Eddie invites whoever he has his interest on to stay the night with him. This doesn’t happen a lot, Eddie is… bored, if you ask him. Anonymous sex and one night affairs are great to an extent.

Eddie is not used to gentle hands caressing his face with no rush, though. He’s not used to the slow slide of this birthday boy’s tongue against his, tasting like cranberry vodka, kissing him as if they had two hours and not twenty minutes to enjoy themselves in a dark alley. Instead of rushing things, he simply presses their bodies together, rocking against the wall and pulling Eddie with him. His body is warm and solid against Eddie, his fingers digging in his waist. That all is more than enough to have Eddie hard and ready in his ripped, black jeans.

Birthday boy puts himself comfortably, his back against the wall. Opens his legs and lets Eddie settle between them, hands roaming up and down Eddie’s back, his warm sips through Eddie’s almost nonexistent shirt: yes, black translucent lycra looks good on him but now the cold of the night mixing with the heat that this guy radiates is making him lose his mind.

Fuck, this guy knows how to kiss. Eddie lets him set the pace, since he knows what he’s doing, and focuses on the pleasure that is kissing someone this leisurely. The moment Eddie breaks the kiss to breathe, the other boy mouths his jaw and neck, teeth brushing sensitive skin, and fuck. Eddie can’t help the involuntary twitch of his hips.

“Ah, fuck, you’re good at this,” Eddie whimpers. Birthday boy simply hums against his pulse point, sending vibrations down Eddie’s spine. Fuck, his cock twitches and they’re still doing nothing. The guy’s hands - why does he have these stupidly broad, warm hands? - press Eddie against him a bit tighter. Oh, the flex of his biceps when he does it, Eddie feels his muscles working underneath him, and somehow that drives him crazy.

Eddie needs more than twenty minutes with his guy. He has the urge to strip him naked and worship his body, he wants to see what’s hiding under these ridiculous tight white t-shirt and jeans that cling to his thighs. Sorry, James Dean, but birthday boy wears this outfit better. Fuck, he barely had time to admire his arms now that he’s not wearing the jacket, hanging from the crook of his arm.

With a particularly well aimed thrust of his bucking hips, Eddie feels the hard on that this guy is sporting himself. A hard line straining his jeans and twitching under Eddie’s constant squirming. They’re wearing too much clothes, Eddie wants to see, wants to know.

He sneaks a hand between their bodies and cups the guy’s obvious erection, making him gasp, hips bucking, so fucking satisfying, knowing that is Eddie making him react like this. Through the jeans, this guy’s dick is scorching hot and it seems to be massive.

It is this guy’s birthday, but Eddie is the one receiving the best gifts.

Or so he hopes.

“Ah, shit,” birthday boy pants when Eddie tries to stroke him, following the tenting of his jeans. “You don’t have to…”

Huh, Eddie thinks, this is why they’re here, is kind of the deal, right? No one ever told him something like that. Eddie cranes his neck to look at the preppy guy, his droopy eyes half lidded, lips parted, breathing heavily.

Eddie is doing this to him.

Oh fuck.

“You don’t want me to?” Eddie asks, aroused, confused.

“Fuck, I want to, just,” the guy laughs awkwardly, cock pulsing visibly through his jeans. “I’m nervous, I think, it’s been a while.”

Eddie smiles at him, pecks him softly in his lips, almost chastly. This guy is precious. And Eddie is enjoying far too much just being here, feeling him breathing and just having him underneath his body. It’d be cozy if it weren’t for the dark alley, the trash bins, the noise of the street and the music of the club.

This is new for Eddie. He gnaws at his lower lip for a moment.

“Look, I-” Eddie starts saying, his mouth betraying him. “I was thinking about getting you off here and now-”

“Jesus Christ,” birthday boy interrupts him, hips bucking, rutting his hard cock against Eddie’s.

“But if you’re not ok with that, that’s ok,” Eddie adds in a rush. “If you want to, we can wait. My shift ends in two hours or so, we can go to my place later, if that sounds better?”

The guy groans, arches his back. Laughs.

“That’s it, if you can wait two hours to taste this,” Eddie teases, ruts against the guy, hips rolling seductively.

“Fuck, you should come with a warning label around your neck,” he says, and tugs at Eddie’s nape, pulling him in for another kiss, melting Eddie in his spot. “Fuck it, let’s do both, let me touch you now and I’ll give you whatever you want at your home.”

Eddie is thrilled, trembling with anticipation, cock leaking at the guy’s words.

Before Eddie can think about it, birthday boy has both his hands on him, touching him through the sheer material of his stupid lycra shirt, and Eddie moans throatily.

-

Having this cute boy so close is driving him insane. Steve thumbs at his nipples just to find them pierced, and a wave of renewed arousal threats to overwhelm him. He wants to put his mouth on it, feel it on his tongue, tug at it with his tongue.

Steve has never been with someone like him, tattooed and pierced and with that blustery energy buzzing out of him, this aura of danger surrounding him. It’s doing things to Steve. Robin was right, he really needed to try something different. Plus the added risk of being caught in public.

Fuck. Fuck.

Steve wants to feel the warm bud of steel with his tongue, see if that gets some reaction from the boy, if he’s sensitive. So Steve tangles his fingers at the root of the bartender’s dampened curls, tugs at him, making him break the kiss and bare his throat. Steve tugs his hair a bit more, forcing Eddie to arch his back, chest heaving, and lunges to suck his left nipple into his mouth.

“Fuck me,” he whimpers, arching into it, hips thrashing. Steve pulls at him by the waist with his other hand, pressing his thinner frame against him, holding him there.

“When we get to your home, I promise,” Steve teases, and resumes to lick at the boy’s nipple through his shirt, dampening it with his spit.

The metal buds in his tongue are something else. The nipple hardens under his tongue, Steve wants to rip the stupid shirt off, even if the coarse material is an added texture to this all. He laps and licks it the best he can, tugs at it carefully with his teeth, and the cute guy in his arms whines at it.

So stupidly hot. Steve’s cock is leaking like a fountain, ruining his boxers, and it hurts when it throbs. Steve groans, nipple in mouth.

He doesn’t remember feeling this feverish for someone, this horny and needy. He feels like a teenager again, on the edge already just by this silly thing.

“Ah fuck, fuck, birthday boy,” the boy moans, body arched beautifully for Steve, his long fingers digging in Steve’s biceps.

It feels so good. So fucking good.

“Steve,” he murmurs at last, stopping in his mission to abuse the left nipple.

“W-wha?”

“I’m Steve,” he smiles, looking at the sight in his arms.

“E-Eddie,” says the bartender, voice raw and wrecked.

They stay like that for a second, panting, drinking in the other’s arousal. Steve’s head feels dizzy, full of cotton, static noise drilling his ears. Eddie, the name echoes in his mind.

“Nice to meet you, Eddie,” Steve smirks, feeling confident again. He lets go of Eddie’s hair, satisfied when he leans into his body, hands roaming over Steve’s pecs, and kisses him with all that young enthusiasm.

While Steve kisses him trying to set a pace, Eddie fumbles with their jeans until he has the flies open and unzips them. Eddie moans a few curses against his lips when he finally grabs Steve’s cock and frees it from his cotton boxers. Steve keeps him pressed tight against him, peppering kisses and nibbles whenever he can reach.

“Is this ok?” Eddie asks nervously. Whatever reticence that was holding Steve back is now forgotten.

Steve didn’t plan any of this. It never occurred to him that he’d be spending the night of his thirtieth three birthday jerking off in an alley with someone as pretty and interesting as Eddie. Thankfully, life still keeps some good surprises for him.

“More than ok, Eddie, fuck,” he moans, hips twitching, feeling electricity where Eddie has wrapped his fingers around his shaft. It’s like Steve can feel everything at once, overwhelming him.

The maddening beating of his heart, Eddie’s hot breath in his lips, his long fingers around him, the warm metal of his rings in his tender skin. Eddie’s weight and heat. The cold air of the night.

“Kiss me,” Eddie demands, taking himself in hand and lining his hips so both their cocks are pressed together. Steve obliges, his whole body on fire. He thinks he could never deny Eddie a thing.

He’s the desperate and uncoordinated one in this kiss. Eddie strokes them both, mixing their precum and making everything sloppier and messy and fucking amazing.

“Fuck, yes,” Eddie groans, his voice low and deep. “You feel so good, Steve, can’t wait to have you inside me…”

Steve gasps, digs his fingers in Eddie’s soft flesh.

“You want that, birthday boy?” Eddie asks, his fist tightening around their dicks, fucking into it with abandon, hips pistoning as if he needs it bad. Steve dares to look where they’re joined and see how more pearly beads of precum bleed off his cock. “I want it too, baby, I want to have this so deep in me I can feel it in my throat.”

“Holy fuck, Eddie!” Steve whines, imagining it. Eddie sprawled for him, open wide so Steve could take him, legs on his shoulders, spine arched while Steve pounds into him fiercely.

It’s the first time in years he’s this turned on, rushing towards the edge shamefully soon. Well, it’s not like they have more than Eddie’s break to finish this, thankfully.

Steve’s hand joins Eddie’s, clenching around them both, helping Eddie to go faster.

“Ah, shit, I’m close,” Eddie warns, and is all Steve needs.

Claiming the swollen lips of the bartender, Steve’s strokes grow frantic, feels Eddie squirming where they’re joined together, legs trembling. Steve swallows every one of his moans and pants.

Eddie goes first, breaking the kiss to growl, resting his head on Steve's shoulders, shivering with the force of his orgasm. That, and feeling Eddie’s come all over the head of his cock is what pushes Steve towards the edge, groaning between his teeth and holding to Eddie for dear life, his whole body twitching.

Neither of them say a word, too occupied panting and coming down from their orgasms, Eddie’s weight on Steve, and the wall behind Steve supporting them both. Knees shaking and chests heaving, spent cocks twitching with the aftershocks.

Steve feels… alive. On fire. He doesn’t think if it’s appropriate or not, he simply holds Eddie, keeping him from falling to the ground, and kisses the crown of his head.

Oh, he’ll overthink about it later. Right now it feels good, it feels right.

“Fuck,” he hears Eddie whisper, and the rumbling of his laugh. Steve smiles, deeply satisfied.

“I know,” Steve says, laughing too.

“I’m wasted, man,” Eddie laughs. “I need water, and a nap, fuck, I don’t know if I’m going to survive the next two hours.”

Steve laughs with him, feeling just the same.

“I’m sorry?” Steve asks, laughing, and Eddie shoves at his shoulder without strength.

“Shut up, you know it was amazing,” Eddie smiles at him, that blinding smile that is becoming a problem, since Steve can only think about kissing it.

He does that, though, now that he still can. Just in case.

-

Eddie is- what’s the opposite of freaking out? He’s at peace with the world, and himself, and everything is pure and bright and perfect.

Man, the power of a mind blowing orgasm. Eddie can’t wait for the next one, hopefully thinking that Steve will wait for him and walking him home later.

“I ruined our shirts, that I’m really sorry for,” birthday boy, Steve, says, wincing.

“I have spare clothes in the storage room, maybe something you can wear too,” Eddie offers. He takes a glance at his wristwatch. “We still have a few minutes, if you don’t mind waiting a bit, though I’m getting cold.”

“Oh, here,” Steve says. He shifts and produces his white jacket from nowhere, Eddie doesn’t even remember him putting it aside or whatever. Magic.

Steve wraps his jacket around Eddie, and after all that happened during the last fifteen minutes, this is what makes Eddie blush like a maiden.

“There you are, don’t freeze yourself,” Steve smiles at him, his back still against the wall and supporting Eddie’s body, ignoring his own trembling knees.

Oh, no. Eddie thinks, smiling dopily at Steve.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3

#steddie fanfiction #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fluffy chicken writes #Whatever you want birthday boy fic

[marvelmaniac2000]

Hi! I adore how you wrote Riddler and the reader in the Fluff + Smut fic! I was wondering could I request a fic or some headcanons about Edward and Fem! Reader’s first time together, maybe with a little bit of soft dom Eddie please!

thank you so much! 💚✨

Thank youuu anon!!! 😘 I love writing about Eddie more than any other character tbh 😬 😅.. 💚 I'm so in love with him 💚

Love at First Sight -----------------------------------------------

There's so many different headcanons about him but here's the first few that come to mind.

Subject: Pure fluff, pet names, soft! dom Eddie, kiss maybe?, flirting, (sorry for misspelling and grammar)

Words: 400+

just major cuteness to go around UGH

Side notes: all of the possibilities are endless, where do I even begin?

*sobbed uncontrollably in a corner*

This handsome man can't keep his eyes off of you.

he will constantly tell you how absolutely pretty and beautiful you are.

He wants to hold your hand and brush it against his lips.

chivalry is NOT dead when it comes to Eddie. He will hold the door open for you, give you his jacket when it's raining, constantly walking right beside you to make you feel protected.

He will look deep into your eyes and hold eye contact to let you know how much he's listening to you.

He has a bad habit of brushing your loose strands behind your ears.

He loves sitting next to you and swinging his arm around any sofa/couch/chair you guys are sitting in.

SUPER controlling and protective of your relationship.

He insist in paying and he never wants you too. It's just in his nature duh.

some of the nicknames he will give you: love bun, sweet heart, honey, baby girl, princess, pretty girl, cutie pie, Ms.beautiful, mama,

He's so proud to call him his, he super affectionate in public with you

You both do everything together

He lets you borrow all of his hoodies and sweaters

YOU'RE his everything <3

. . .

"I can't believe we are finally together" you cling on to his arm. You walk with him down the street of Gotham with the biggest grin on your face. After all of the bad exes in your life you finally met someone who would do all of the things you wanted in a boyfriend.

"I believe it, I knew eventually you would come to me" he had his hands in his loose jacket with a sheepish smile. He was so cute and wholesome as he stayed close to you. It felt so good knowing you had someone to trust. You never wanted to leave his side, he meant to so much to you now. Is this what being in love felt like? Many cute plans and fantasies flooded your mind. You couldn't wait to do so many things with him. To show everyone the sweet guy you were with. Why didn't you approach him sooner?

You both just wandering around the mall but (actually he was just following you around) he could care less about anything beside just spending time with you. The sun was setting and you grew tired from today. "You ready to go home baby?" Eddie absently offered to hold your bag as you stopped mid stride to looked at the time on your phone.

"yea, I work tomorrow unlike you" you peck a kiss on his cheek. both of you worked at the same place, but opposite ends of the building. You always miss him dearly when you guys get busy with other tasks.

"Just call in I want to lay in my bed with you it's been forever" his clingy demeanor kicked in realizing how long it's been since he had you in his arms. He needed you now and tomorrow. You were the only person who understood him and loved him for who he was. He didn't want to lose the happiness that kept him alive.

"Don't worry about them babe, you're always working extra days. We still have so much stuff we need to do at home" he caressed his rough hand on your cheek. His thumb gripped your chin. "You promised me you would cuddle and lay in bed with me right?" his soft deep voice became persuasive drawing in you like smoke. Eddie leaned in to kiss you slowly making you moan. " I promise" you peck his lips again. Eddie felt like he was on cloud nine, finally having the girl and life he dreamed of.

Likes/comments/reblogs/requests & asks

much love <3

#writing #fanfic #love story #edward naston #edward nashton fanfic #edward nashton smut #edward nashton x reader #bruce wayne #dc universe #riddler smut #riddler fanfic #riddler x reader #riddler headcanon #riddler fluff #edward nashton fluff #the batman #requests #writers

[kay-elle-cee]

Hi wow hello omg!! Thank you so much for agreeing to do this Ask the Author with me (': I just have a few questions about your first ever smutty fic, Things That Haven't Happened Yet...

What is your personal favorite (real) sex scene in the fic?

Which smut scene do you think is the most well written?

Which smut scene did you write first?

Do you plan to write more smut?

What's your favorite overall scene in the fic?

Whose POV was harder to write?

Knowing the other dreams James and Lily had but you perhaps didn't get to write about, who do you think has a naughtier mind between the two of them?

[SPOILER ALERT] Did they actually eat lunch? James surely needed some carbs by that point but there were other things to finish when the story ended. 👀

my article will be published in vanity fair next week, thx again for interviewing w me <3

Omg Charles 🙈 Thank you so much for all these questions, I'm so so so happy you loved TTHHY and am HAPPY to answer these questions!

Under the cut for spoilers and NSFW discussion!

1. What is your personal favorite (real) sex scene in the fic?

Ah this is so hard, because honestly I think it’s a tied between the first two. Because the first one is just the raw kind of heat and frustrated passion, but the second one is a little of that with the introduction of “oh wait actually maybe that’s not all it is”. If I HAD to choose, I guess I’ll say the second. Would love to hear other people’s opinions!

2. Which smut scene do you think is the most well written?

Okay I had to go back and reread them all and maybe it’s a bit of a cop out but I love the shower scene. It’s less detailed than the others but it’s very clear in my head and I liked the transition between the sex and the more intimate moments.

3. Which smut scene did you write first?

I mostly went in order for this fic! So that first time in the Order library was the first! (The only scene I remember writing out of order was that final scene outside of cottage—I've had that written since before chapter 3 was posted!)

4. Do you plan to write more smut?

I do! It won't be in everything I write, but I do have some other concepts/fics in my drafts. I unexpectedly had a ball with this and it's kind of hard to stop lol.

5. What's your favorite overall scene in the fic?

Shower scene. Hands down now and forever the shower scene. The idea that that's kind of like the shift in everything, and them finishing but just....staying there, connected, kissing (and through those kisses, at least on James' part, communicating things he's too scared to say). And then the follow up and the intimacy of just like, being together and showering together and those kind of gentle, not necessarily sexual touches. UGH. I'm sorry this is the scene I'm most insane over.

6. Whose POV was harder to write?

Weirdly, Lily's? I feel like I've been SO in her head lately for some other projects, it was just nice to be in James' head. And James is very straightforward, I think, with what he feels in this fic, whereas Lily has to come to terms with it. (Not that I don't LOVE writing that, but I think just wanting to make sure I wrote that believably contributed to a little more friction while writing Lily).

7. Knowing the other dreams James and Lily had but you perhaps didn't get to write about, who do you think has a naughtier mind between the two of them?

Okay so. I think for Lily for so long this has just (in her conscious mind) been about physical attraction. Her garden dream is the most...I'll say out there of the fantasies—all of James' were private moments (even the drunken alleyway snog), but Lily's garden moment was I think the riskiest we saw (OUT in the OPEN). So WITH all that preamble, I think Lily's dreams were a little more out there and riskier (against a window, chances of being caught, etc) BUT I think she's a bit better at controlling herself once they're together, and it's James that can't keep his hands off her and possibly instigates more of those scenarios.

8. [SPOILER ALERT] Did they actually eat lunch? James surely needed some carbs by that point but there were other things to finish when the story ended. 👀

Listen, maybe it's because I'm old (compared to them) but I do think they ate lunch. I think it was a very quick lunch and Lily was adorably a little nervous having him in her little flat, but James was just kind of in awe of this place he'd only seen like once irl and then reoccurring in her dreams of them. When they were done with lunch (or ate what they both deemed was 'enough for now'), she showed him her appreciation for the garden. They did not make it to her bedroom.

Thank you SO much for these questions, Charles! They were so fun to answer and I'm always happy to scream about my fics into the void. 🥰

#TTHHY spoilers #kelsey writes #jily #asked and answered #itsjamespotter #tthhy

[burningblake]

Hi :) I'm new to the chenford fanfic game and I loove yours. I was wondering if you ever wrote one about 4x01 after the hug? If wesley hadn't called tim, I bet lucy would have crawled into tim's bed (maybe I'm delusional but it would have made such a good story 🔥)

Hii and welcome, I'm so happy that you like my fics, thank you so much! (Sorry that it took me some time to reply, but I wanted to include the fic in the answer.) This prompt intrigued me a lot tbh so thanks a lot for sending it to me! I, too, believe something spicy would have happened that night if they didn't get interrupted and here's my version of it ^^

#

She didn't expect him to actually hug her when she asked him to. He's usually so guarded, so by the book, that it would be natural for him to simply offer her a polite rejection. 

But Tim said "Come here" and now his arms are wrapped firmly around her and he's stroking her hair and her nose is dipped in the clean fragrance of his chest and all she can think of is taking it a step further. 

Normally she'd reject any thoughts of the kind—Tim's mouth on hers, his breath driven out of control because of her—but the pain and loss she feels right now are like a whirlpool pulling her into a deep abyss and she's scared to find out what's in the bottom. So as soon as the distraction appears, she latches onto it with tooth and claw. 

She lets her mind flood with images of him kissing her, of their naked bodies tangled in his sheets, of her chanting his name as he makes love to her. She knows he'll be gentle with her, respectful, loving even. More than anything, she's curious to find out how it sounds to give him pleasure. She's imagined all that in the few seconds their embrace lasts. All she needs is to make the first step, plant the idea. After all didn't he compliment her at the wedding? Checked her out and asked her to save him a dance? He must find her a little desirable at least.

With that confidence instilled in her, she slowly raises her head and rests her gaze firmly on his lips. Tim looks at her and then at her mouth and for a fraction of a second, she's almost certain he'll kiss her. Her pulse quickens, her breathing stops. 

But he looks away, tells her "Goodnight" and retreats to his bedroom.

Reality comes crashing on her like a bucket of cold water. What was she thinking? What did she really expect to happen? He's her boss. 

And yet, and yet. The sting of his rejection is a much more manageable pain than the chaos she's trying to escape from. And so her embarrassment lasts only for a few moments. 

By the time her head falls on the pillow, her thoughts are again preoccupied with fantasies of him. It's not long before she starts feeling restless and hot all over. 

And what if she regrets it? Regret sounds like a healthier feeling than whatever that hole in her chest is. 

She woke up this morning with Jackson in her life. And now he isn't in it anymore. It feels unrealistic. Wrong. Like he's simply going to be home in their apartment when she returns. She doesn't want to think what will happen when she doesn't find him there. 

Perhaps if she has her thoughts flooded with something as overwhelming as having sex with her boss, it will be easier to face that reality.

But then she can't ignore the fact that part of her is also glad for the excuse, as morbid as that may be. She's relieved that she has the opportunity to experience Tim erotically and then be able to blame it on a moment of weakness if things turn out awkward. God, she's such an awful person. 

But right now, she doesn't care. 

She tosses the covers aside and gets on her feet, letting the boldness inside her take full control. She walks barefoot towards his bedroom door and raises her hand to knock. At the last second, she regrets it, goes for the handle instead. Softly, she turns it down. 

She realizes this might be all in vain if he's asleep. But when she steps inside the bedroom, Tim's eyes meet hers in astonishment.

"Lucy?" 

He's on his feet at once, his gaze filled with concern. He walks towards her, but stops at a normal distance between them. 

"Are you okay? Did you have a nightmare?" 

For a moment, as she studies his intense expression and works up the courage to name her request, she considers lying to him. A nightmare is exactly the kind of thing that would justify her mindless behavior. But she's not that far gone as to use such a cheap excuse. 

"No, I'm fine," she says, her clear voice cutting the charged atmosphere in the room. 

Tim looks at her with slight confusion, the question evident in the air. What is she doing in his room? 

Instead of an answer, she simply steps closer to him, so that they're again at the same position that they were in his living room, seconds after they hugged. 

His eyes widen in surprise. Still, he doesn't step back. 

"What are you doing?" he asks with warning. 

"Continuing from where we stopped before?" she says. It's not exactly a question, but her voice raises up a little at the end as though it is. 

His surprise turns into shock. His gaze switches frantically between her mouth and eyes. 

"Lucy..." he starts, his voice clearly affected. "You know that this is wrong in many ways and you're going to regret it afterwards. Grief isn't helping you think clearly right now." 

She knows, she knows she'll be better off if she accepts this soft, rational rejection now, instead of pushing it further. But it's like she's stepped into deep water and she can't seem to find her footing. 

"Are you going to regret it?" 

Tim shakes his head. "That's not the point. Lucy, you know me better than to think I'd take advantage of you this way."

"You're not taking advantage of me. I'm a consenting adult. I came to your bedroom." She realizes she's started sounding like a lunatic. 

His hands are suddenly on her shoulders, his head lowered to level her gaze. "This is not happening tonight, alright? Please try to get some sleep." 

She pauses, looks into his eyes, tries to find more fight inside of her. But the rejection is dampening her courage. She exhales in surrender and finally nods. A moment of silence passes and then she spins out of his hold, a little more forcibly than she intended to, and walks out of his bedroom, shutting the door in her wake. 

She had it all wrong. Rejection is what finally pushes the tears that have been gathering behind her eyes, waiting for her permission to spill. She cries silently for a while. Finally, exhausted, she falls asleep. 

Ironically, she has a nightmare.

In her dream, she's back at her apartment and Jackson greets her with a goofy smile, tells her, "I saw you dancing with Tim at the wedding." 

She nudges him and laughs. "Stop, it was just a dance."

Jackson gives her a meaningful gaze that says she can't fool him. 

Lucy pokes at him and they both start laughing together. 

"I missed you at the wedding," she tells him then. "Where did you disappear?" 

"Well, I went to see Angela. I wanted to give her something." 

Angela? 

The scene abruptly changes. It's not Jackson sitting in front of her. But her mom. Her mom telling her what a disappointment she is. Lucy can't sit and listen to her. She gets up, starts searching for her roommate, because if there's anyone who can put her mom in her place, it's him. But Jackson is nowhere and her mom keeps yelling in her head. 

Until it's not her mom at all who's yelling anymore. It's Lucy. Waking up screaming from her sleep.

"Lucy! Lucy!"

Tim's voice comes from right above her. She feels his touch on her shoulder, her cheek.

"It's alright, it was just a dream," he reassures her.

She meets his gaze in a frozen state. Slowly, reality sinks in and the tears come back. Tim sighs and in the most gentle gesture ever, pulls her onto his chest. Her tears stain the soft cotton of his top. 

They stay like that for a while. She can't help but remember another place, another time, a similar gesture. The safety of his embrace after she'd been buried alive into a desert. Somehow his arms have always meant safety for her. She realizes her hands have started shaking. 

She pulls away from him in order to meet his gaze. 

She doesn't say anything, but she can't help the pleading look that forms in her eyes. Tim's gaze turns incredulous. She expects that—the shock and rejection. What she doesn't expect is the conflict that follows  it. The clear signs that he's also struggling with desire. His expression becomes almost pained before something goes loose inside him. As though he gives up and gives in at once. 

His hand slides from her cheek to her hair where he latches on to pull her close. His lips land on hers with a soft moan of surrender. 

At first she's too stunned to react. His mouth is warm, gentle. She'd always expected him to taste like coffee. But as she closes her lips around his bottom lip, Tim tastes like warmth, like the sun-kissed aura of a summer morning. She lets out a shaky breath and brings her hands onto his cheeks, opening her mouth just as he dives in for a deeper connection. 

She grabs onto his shoulders to lift herself into a sitting position. Tim's hand slides from her shoulder to her waist, the other one still buried into her scalp. 

She can hear his breath accelerate and it makes her feel dizzy with power. She's never seen him this out of control. Tim kisses her again and again until she gasps for breath and then still he moves on to kissing her neck. 

Slowly he moves from the floor to the couch on top of her, adjusting his weight carefully so as not to crush her. He has to lift her leg off in the process and his hand lingers on her thigh, caressing her up and down, as his tongue dips into her mouth to entangle with hers. In a moment of impulse, Lucy wraps her legs around him, gratified by the groan the movement evokes from him. Tim buries his face underneath her chin, where he starts leaving a trail of wet kisses. 

She finds the hem of his top and pulls it upwards. He lets her take it off of him. Then he gets on his feet, gathers her up in his arms and leads her to his bedroom. 

She doesn't know how much of it she's going to regret later. Right now, all she knows is that it's never felt this good.

(masterlist)

#chenford #the rookie #chenford fanfic #tim x lucy #replies #anonymous #I wrote this very self-indulgently so excuse any minor mistakes <3

[emmalostinwonderland]

I can't believe this year is already just about over... 2023 has been huge for me in terms of fandom and in real life spaces. This was my first full year publicly out as queer, and it felt at times like the rest of the world was kinda celebrating with me. I made so many new fandom friends and got a lot more involved with the things I'm passionate about. I joined 5 fandom discord servers, beta'd more than a few fics, cheer-read a few others, and participated in 4 fanfiction events. I spent most of the year whining about how I can't get any writing done, but apparently I wrote and posted more fics this year than in 2020, 2021, and 2022 combined! I wrote nearly 50,000 words this year. Thank you to everyone who supported me, encouraged me, laughed and cried with me, or spent time with me in any capacity. I cherish you all.

Anyway, now for the part people actually want lol- here are the 6 fics I published in 2023:

Embers Barely Showing (Proof of Life in the Shadows)

Pairing: Steve/Bucky Rated: M Word Count: &lt;1k Summary: Steve freezes in the doorway. He makes himself breath slowly and deeply, and he takes a moment to get his heart rate back to normal before addressing the man holding a gun to his temple. “Buck, it’s me." // Steve comes home while Bucky is having a dissociative episode.

Judged By The Cover (collab w/ @louikazooie)

Pairing: Steve/Bucky Rated: E Word Count: 32k Summary: Bucky Barnes, award-winning romance novelist, is dismayed to learn that his publisher is sending him on a book tour with Steve Rogers, a fantasy author who recently topped the NY Times Bestseller list for his first and only romance novel and Bucky’s personal authorial adversary. As they’re sent off to spend several months touring 50 US cities together, they’ll attempt to overcome their differences and leave the past behind them… maybe they’ll even find love.

The Hazards of Falling in Love (Rescue Me)

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rated: T Word Count: 4k Summary: “So that’s your name?” Rogers hasn't looked away from him once. His eyes are a piercing blue, and Tony barely manages to keep from squirming under his gaze. “Yeah. Or Telecommunications Operator Stark, if we’re getting technical about it.” “Are we?” Tony tilts his head slightly. “Depends. Can I call you Steve?” The man grins. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, Tony.” // Tony Stark doesn't date firemen. But he'll make an exception for Battalion Chief Steve Rogers.

Promises, Promises

Pairing: FirstPrince Rated: E Word Count: 1k Summary: “Works for me. Let me get undress-” Henry stops him with a hand over his. “Slow down, love. I’m going to make you listen to me for once.” “Oh my god,” Alex whispers, seemingly unintentionally. // Alex breaks his promise of a work-free trip. Henry gives him just what he deserves.

Should History Forget Us

Pairing: Steve/Bucky/Tony Rated: E Word Count: est 15k (WIP) Summary: War is over for the kingdom of Starkholde, and King Anthony's knights have returned home at long last. With peacetime comes many changes... as well as its own dangers. Through joy, through pain, through fear, through love- Steve, Bucky, and Tony must navigate the shifting tides together and make their mark on history.

StarDads Secret Santa 2023

Pairing: Din/Luke **This fic is part of a gift exchange and creator reveals are not until after the new year. I'll post the link to my fic once it's available, but for now, the whole collection is linked here.

#stucky #stony #dinluke #firstprince #stuckony #fanfiction #ao3 #writing #year in review #2023

[lynnlovesthestars]

Do you do scenarios or headcanons? If so, how many characters can we request for scenarios or headcanons? Would you do the same prompt with different characters? Can we request for male reader, female reader, gender neutral reader, etc? Are there any topics you won't do like rape, suicide, etc? Do you do poly ships x reader? Would you mind if we request for Alternate Universes or Aus like AU where the character lives happily? Would you mind if the request is suggestive, implied sex, or mentioned sex but no explicit sex if it's from anon or ageless accounts? For Baldur's Gate 3 requests, would you mind if we don't specify the race/class to leave it ambiguous or if we ask specify the race/class like human/healer? Thank you in advance!

Hi`~ I'll answer to one at a time so I won't get confused I hope you don't mind<3

1 "Do you do scenarios or headcanons?"

Yes I do, although I have posted only one or two up to now, I actually enjoy writing them very much, in fact I got a whole folder of snippets just waiting till I find more stuff to put them with!

2 Would you do the same prompt with different characters?

Absolutely, I firmly believe that the same prompt can develop totally different with diffrent characters, so if you are interested in a past prompt or you have one that you'd like to see with multiple characters, let me know<3

3 Can we request for male reader, female reader, gender neutral reader, etc?

Yup, I am genderfluid and I have no problem writing for any gender, ofc if you request smut make sure to let me know if the pronouns match the genitals n or not, I'll gladly take care of that.

On this note my main oc in dnd- bg3 is canonically genderfluid, both in the concept of gender identity and physical, so again, everyone here is welcome<3

4 Are there any topics you won't do like rape, suicide, etc?

It's not the topic the problem, but rather the connotations that might make me skip a particular request.

The only hard no's are minor characters in suggestive/ smut content, and bestiality. As far as other things I have wrote a lot of dark fics revolving around self-harm and suicide/attempts- and mental illnesses in general- and they don't bother me.

Rape/ non-con and dub-con are a particular topic for me, so i can write them, but I won't romanticize rape/ non-con. I will not write the main love interest as abuser, i can't stomach the idea of putting a perpetrator with his victim- so sorry for u cazador pals that ship him w astarion, or gale x mystra enjoyers (though i can write abt cazador n mystra, just not with their victims)- while dub-con usually doesn't bother me much. Of course i can go in more or less depth in the topics so if you have a tolerance limit, please let me know and I'll tone it up or down depending on that, but if i don't get any note on that, ill make sure to properly tag the pieces as the dddne post said.

5 Do you do poly ships x reader?

Absolutely, I have one poly piece that is being beta-read about wyll and gale x reader, and I'm eager to share it with you all cause 1. it was a lovely request i got, 2. i just love writing poly romances

6 Would you mind if we request for Alternate Universes or Aus like AU where the character lives happily?

I love au's, as I mentioned Lynn- my oc-, he has been the center of so many au pieces i wrote for bg3 as i was in rest the past two weeks, so feel free to ask!

Today I feel like oversharing so there are my ultimate favourite au's: guardian angel, soulmates, best friends to lovers, royalty, forbidden romance, one bed stranded, moden-fantasy, isekai, coffee shop, bookstores.. but there's so many more omg

7 Would you mind if the request is suggestive, implied sex, or mentioned sex but no explicit sex if it's from anon or ageless accounts?

It's a bit of a grey area, if you don't feel comfortable sending an ask with your main where you have your age displayed, you can dm me the request and I'll take care of it however you like it, but if it's through asks I'll stop at the implied to be safe, thank you for asking though i appreciate it:)

8 For Baldur's Gate 3 requests, would you mind if we don't specify the race/class to leave it ambiguous or if we ask specify the race/class like human/healer?

Of course, you are free to tell me as much or as little as you want when you send me a request, i'll do my best to respect your preferences whether you don't want descriptions of the tav at all, or you want something more detailed, you are free to request.

I've been thinking about opening some limited requests to write about ppl tavs- since i've been asked by quite a few people- but I don't know how to approach it specifically, but keep an eye open in case i open a few of them and you want to drop your commission<3

Thank you so much for your questions and your kindness, I always appreciate your openness, as a veteran in the fandoms environment, we all know how some might be less polite, so seeing even just the kindness of asking what's my preferences always warms up my heart.

lots of love, can't wait to see what lovely ideas you have in store for my asks!<3

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion x reader #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 x oc #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav #bg3 x you #bg3 x male reader #bg3 x female reader #bg3 x gn!reader #bg3 x durge #bg3 ff #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #ask: lynn ☆ #lynn: updates☆ #lynn: organization #bg3 fluff #bg3 angst

[farfromdaylight]

2023 writing meme

i don't usually do the fic writer meme because i don't usually write a lot of fic other than longfic. but this year was an outlier, so, here we are!

Number of fics written (posted) in 2023: 23. seriously, who am i? plus 3 finished and 2 unfinished, both unposted.

Total word count of posted fic: 57,515

Total word count of unposted fic: 66,701

Total word count overall: 124,216

Worth noting that some of my posted fic this year was written during Nanowrimo last year, so the numbers are a bit skewed.

Fandoms: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake, Final Fantasy XII, Final Fantasy XIV. I did write one FFXIV/Pacific Rim crossover.

all of my fic is on AO3.

Best title: I'm really biased towards heaven can wait (WoL/Exarch), my big bang fic. I also quite like before you're burned, become the sun (Alisaie) but that's just because I've always liked that lyric.

Worst title: to believe in you (i'll try) (Cloud/Tifa). I was going for a theme across all of my Cloti week fics but I don't like that title at all...

Best first line: From before you're burned, become the sun:

The sun never sets, because there is no sun.

Worst first line: From to believe in you (i'll try):

Cloud is so different.

Best last line: From heaven can wait:

"Welcome to the First, Warrior of Darkness," he says, lifting up his brother. "Let's get you inside. We've got a world to save."

Worst last line: From to believe in you (i'll try) (seriously, I am not happy with this fic LOL):

For now, they have a reactor to take down.

Looking back, did you write more than you thought you would this year, less than you thought, or about what you predicted?

Less than I was supposed to, yet more than I expected. I had various health issues throughout the year that prevented me from writing a lot (have you ever tried to write when you can't sleep more than 3 hours at a time? Yeah) but also I managed to write for two fandom weeks and completed Nanowrimo. So, not bad!

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted last year?

I didn't think I'd write so many Cloti fics! I've loved the pairing for a long time but I really didn't think I would write so much. Really glad I did though. Also, I had no plans to write the Alisaie or Ashe fics and I'm glad I stretched myself and wrote them.

What’s your favourite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest.

heaven can wait, no contest. I still go back and reread it sometimes and just have a blast. It's a story I very much wrote for myself, and I'm really glad it's gotten a good reception.

Okay, NOW your most popular story.

By kudos: amber embrace (WoL/G'raha)

By hits: love grows (WoL/G'raha)

By comments and bookmarks: heaven can wait

Deeply funny to me that the NSFW fic is the most popular. The people want what they want.

Story most underappreciated by the universe?

If we ignore the fic I posted an hour ago that has literally 1 hit so far: for you, i walk on (Tifa), which I wrote for the second volume of the Tifa zine. But that's only by hits and kudos; it got very lovely comments and I had a great time with the zine.

By comments, I have 5 fics without comments at all. :( One of them has 30 kudos! Please comment on fics, folks.

Story that could have been better?

Not to beat the dead horse, but to believe in you (i'll try). It's meant to be a Remake fic, but I haven't finished replaying Remake and I only half-remember the Cloti scenes. I'm working on replaying it now, so hopefully I can add to it soon.

Sexiest story?

I mean, according to the numbers, it's either amber embrace or love grows. But actually it's one of the fics I didn't post this year. I wrote a 16,000-word fic about my WoL's honeymoon with G'raha. It is very spicy and it will not be seeing the light of day because it belongs to a non-canon AU.

Saddest story?

I don't know that I have a good answer to this one. I mean, heaven can wait is angsty, but that's different.

Most fun?

Most silly is definitely shuffle or boogie (WoL/G'raha), which was just an excuse to write a fic about Triple Triad.

Story with single sweetest moment?

PROBABLY THE WEDDING FIC, LOL. Or the denouement of heaven can wait. Or the holiday fic I just posted.

Most fucked-up story?

I wrote some vanilla-ass fic this year, I ain't got nothing for this.

Hardest story to write?

Honestly, a lot of the Cloti fics were tough. I'm not really rusty on the canon (FFVII lives rent free in my brain) but I hadn't written the characters in a pairing for some years. The Ashe fic was also tough for similar reasons: I've never written FFXII fic before. The Endwalker fic (WIP) has been really hard because it's some tough content and I've been struggling with how much of the canon to cover and how much to make up whole cloth.

Easiest/most fun story to write?

heaven can wait, which I really just had a blast with. This was last year's Nanowrimo, though, so... Maybe the holiday fic? I wrote it in a couple hours last weekend.

Did any stories shift your perception of the characters?

Not really. I don't tend to write fics about characters I don't have a firm grasp of.

Most overdue story?

Beyond the Vault, the eternal albatross around my neck. Also the Endwalker fic, because it's taken me two years to even have a WIP...

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

This year was good at helping me fight off the perfectionist tendency! I posted a lot of the fandom week fics within a week (or shorter) of writing them, and it let me chill out considerably about polish. Sometimes you can just write a fic and you don't have to go over it with a fine-tooth comb, you can just post it.

#larissafic #meme answers

[jabbage]

My Favourite Fanfics

2022 was the year I discovered fanfiction that I enjoyed reading, and I thought I'd share my mountain of fics that really stood out to me!

Jeeves and Wooster

Green Ice - Jeeves and Wooster & Lord Peter Wimsey

I'm hesitant to explain why I like this fic so much. It was 'spoiled' for me before I read it, and I wonder what the experience would have been like if I hadn't known where it was going ahead of time. So, perhaps I'll just say that it uses Bertie Wooster's position as possible unreliable narrator to add a really interesting dimension to his character and explore an aspect of note about the Jeeves and Wooster universe, and does so within a rip-roaring mystery which feels very authentic. AND Peter Wimsey is in it!

The War of the Worlds and All That - Jeeves and Wooster

In which Jeeves and Wooster thwart an alien invasion. Which is an utterly bonkers idea, somehow pulled off because said invasion hinges around the exact kind of dilemma which is entirely commonplace in Bertie Wooster's life. I was absolutely hooting with laughter throughout this whole thing.

Sherlock Holmes

The Craven Hive - Meticulously researched and textually deep historical pastiche with some absolutely beautiful character moments. Dr Watson returns from his war service and decides to assist in the treatment of shellshocked soliders. Of course when danger is at hand, he has to call in his old friend...

The Unsinkable Ship - Another meticulously researched piece. Holmes and Watson end up on board the Titanic. Much of the work is the pair going around exploring the ship, talking to each other and their fellow passengers (often real people), and dealing with navigating retirement together. They have such an old married couple vibe in this. Oh, and then the ship gets struck by an iceberg.

The Afterlife of Dr John H Watson - Good grief thing thing is absolute exquisite torture and I've read it I don't know how many times. Has entirely changed how I read 'The Blanched Soldier' and 'The Lion's Mane'. I get very very bored at 'kissy stuff' in stories, but the pivotal kiss in this GOT ME BAD.

The Taste of Truth - Delicious dark fantasy. If Neil Gaiman had written it, it would have won a Nebula.

Grit in the Sensor - Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century - Ok ok just hear me out on this one.... Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century is a very fun but silly Saturday Morning Cartoon which had a wealth of absolutely dynamite sci-fi concepts bubbling below the surface which it didn't ever address. One of these is that there is a robot who appears to have gained sentience by reading Watson's work. This fic unpacks that concept in a beautiful heartfelt way. It's narrated from Robot Watson's point of view, which leads to a delightful mixture of 19th century patois with machine logic.

Fullmetal Alchemist

Of Skulls and Secrets - I really enjoy it when people bring in the very bonkers real life history of alchemy into FMA stories, and this piece honestly feels like it could have been an extra chapter or OVA.

FMA Beyond - I don't know what to tell you. It's like Hiromu Arakawa wrote and illustrated more Fullmetal Alchemist. I got tingles when I started reading it. It gets Al right, which is always important to me :D

Others

Ciel D'Oro - The Name of the Rose

I can't believe somebody wrote a very decent sequel to The Name of the Rose and it's on Ao3 and you can read it for free.

Mister Vimes'd Go Spare - Discworld

If you were to tell me that this was actually written by Terry Pratchett, I would believe you. In my heart, this is what happened to Sam Vimes in the end.

A Man from the Stars - Doctor Who

Officially set my mind to rest about poor Joan Redfern.

Sing Down the Stars - The Chronicles of Narnia

Very beautiful reflection on Rilian from The Silver Chair ***

That's it for now! I'm sure I'll keep adding to this as I read more stuff :D

#favourite fanfics #fanfics #ao3fic #fullmetal alchemist #acd sherlock #discworld #chronicles of narnia #jeeves and wooster

[piosplayhouse]

I heard there was fandom drama maybe before my time about someone trying to do Jewish Gusu Lan and I was wondering if you knew anything about that and would be willing to go into that? Out of all the people I follow I feel like you’d be the most likely to know about this sorry. If you don’t want to talk about this or if Jewish Gusu Lan was just a weird dream that I had or something just delete this I won’t mind at all

Why am I always the go to guy for shit like this what makes you guys think that I would be a Jewish gusu lan expert why doesn't anyone just ask me normal stuff like what are your go to stir fry flavorings what the fuck!!!!!!!!

... but yeah I know what you're talking about. Prefacing this by saying that I did not actually read the au(s?) in question and I am also not Jewish so I hold no authority over this subject and you should trust other people's words over mine! Basically a while ago someone wrote a fic where I believe the Lan and Nie sects were Jewish, tagged it "canon compliant", and (from my understanding) doubled down when both Chinese and Jewish people criticized them by saying that because MDZS is a fantasy world, it's only loosely connected to Chinese customs. Now, I want to make it clear that there's absolutely no issue with making Jewish aus-- Chinese Jews exist and have a very rich cultural history! The issue that many people had, again through my understanding, was that this was not Incorporated in the au at all. Apparently they just replaced all the Lan customs with Judaism and denied that the sect is canonically very Buddhism and Confucianism-inspired, but still called it canon compliant. Again, I was not closely connected to the situation and only learned of it from the ripples on my feed, so I can't claim expertise in any means, but this is just a brief summary from what I had seen and remembered of it. I believe it was somewhere around this time where mdzs fandom was reconciling with a very strange argument that mdzs is not an inherently Chinese story, and there were a few conversations going around debating to what point an au goes too far removing significant cultural aspects into disrespect.

I hope this helps a little bit, anon! You can probably find better sources from people who know what they're talking about on twitter, but you definitely didn't dream it up lol. Hope everyone's having a nice night and shout out to all my Jewish and Chinese followers ily and I'm so sorry if I said anything wrong, please lmk so I can fix it !! : -)

#long post #long posts

[blackinquisitors]

You can't say you have a vision for Sebastian/Isabela and then not share that vision 😭

ahaha basically. I'm not a fan of dragon ages fantasy Christianity nor do I like its repression of sex. and I don't really care abt canon Sebastian tbh so MY vision for a guy that gets shoved into the chantry, escapes and is a manwhore, then returns to the chantry in the hope of finding peace is a man who is deeply, deeply unhappy and is trying to find anything to fill that hole within himself. I think a lot of his so called virtues and beliefs are contradictory with his actions which leads me to believe it's just a shield for him to cling onto to give meaning to his life.

I think Isabela sees through this. and I think she likes a challenge of getting a man who clearly finds her attractive in her bed. and well it's not that difficult actually. she's all about freedom and personal liberty and I believe that she thinks Sebastian is putting all the chantry stuff on his shoulders and doubling down on it as a sort of penance. so she sucks the soul out of him and they hook up 👍 adding more conflict to Sebastians whole chantry vs the throne vs sexuality. and Sebastian is actually really intense and dedicated to Isabela and it freaks her out bc she's not the settling down sort, but at the same time, she's never felt as loved as she does in his arms. so she has her conflict of freedom vs commitment

also I just really love using religious imagery to describe sex. I wrote a little fic of them. cba linking it but it's called In her the whole fullness of deity dwells.

#also it's been forever since ive played this game or really thought hard abt the characters #i have rewritten this game in my head so this is my version of da2. probably ooc but idc

[thetomcruiseblr]

TW: Very Dark Topics

I am really going to actually spell out what happened because it bothers me that I haven't been able to do so, but I think enough people view me with suspicion now that I need to say it for my own sake:

I mentally broke down over what I thought were conversations making light of/romanticizing very traumatic real-world situations, of which I have had personal experience in. I was very stupid in taking its depictions in fiction very seriously. I was wrong in telling people, whom I had felt I was close to at the time, about how those topics were traumatic to me and that I disliked that they were creating content about it, and in turn, severely-mentally damaging them and making them feel terrible about their own creative works. I am very sorry for that, as obviously, they were just having fun with writing fictional scenarios. Which is why I have emphasized - time and time again this entire year - that I hope everyone just does what makes them happy. I know somebody privated(?) a fic of hers recently, and honestly - I don't think she should have. If you wrote it and were happy with what you created, you should be proud of it and display it.

I have made clear that I had the really terrible reputation of being the obnoxious anti-bottom!Bradley person (it's just a very strange, long-ago recollection to me now because I have been living in this man's rectal cavity for the past year). I would openly say that I wouldn't read fics about it, etc., and that was definitely a huge mood and conversation-killer. Of course, there are plenty of people who don't like/read bottom!Bradley, but they obviously just move on and read what they like, but I didn't because I was a moron who didn't know how to use [insert internet app] for the first time, and didn't know that I didn't have to read every single thing that crossed my screen.

Honestly, I really don't believe I was always against bottom!Bradley. I read Noora's first two fics very early on in the fandom, and they were fine and lovely to me! I think I was just much more enamored with the completely novel concept of fucking Tom Cruise at the time that I started leaning heavily into that. Bradley was always going to be fuckable to me as he was portrayed in the movie, but I was so obsessed with wanting to capture that moment of finding 58-year old Tom Cruise, whom I had never found attractive before this movie, bangable. But Bradley, in the TGM canon to me, probably could have always gotten his shit reamed out. I mean, it's my only fun now, for sure. I believe I have always had a bottom!Bradley visual preference, as that is genuinely the only thing that intrigues me to depict now (I'm switching it up currently for a friend, and honestly, it's been very hard to drag myself out of the Roosterfuck mindset).

I think when I had started very crazily associating it with a concept and memory that really terrified me (my own fault for being so brain-damaged to perceive it that way), that's when I began to openly hate it, as that was the most popular version of it. I gradually began thinking all of it was terrible and insidious - even the "acceptable" version of it, and I openly voiced it. I can't even explain how or why my brain had been so twisted, destroyed, and warped, but it had been. I was going through a lot of personal outside stress at the time, as well, and R00smav was the thing that made me happy, and when I started finding things there that I had found threatening at the time, I began really spiraling. It isn't anyone's fault but my own for taking fictional stuff so seriously, but I did not do any of it out of malice.

I have to emphasize that I don't mind any of it now. I just don't read it, like I should have always done. And honestly, on occasions out of curiosity, I have read some to test myself, and it no longer bothers me. I get it, it's a fictional fantasy that a lot of people have, and that's fine.

Furthermore, I definitely severely traumatized the person who had been the nicest and most helpful friend to me at the time by threatening to do something to myself if I wasn't able to try to do something at the time, which was utterly uncalled for. I can't imagine how horrific it was for her to read something like that, and it's something that I wish I could apologize for directly, but I can't. But I get that after that, she never wanted to be reminded that I existed again. I was just so terrified, so broken-down at the time, that I thought everything I did would be taken the wrong way, and I just desperately needed her permission to do it, even though she obviously had no authority over anything. She had just been the person who had been the kindest to me at the time, who I had considered one of my closest friends (I don't think she ever viewed me that way in turn), and I so desperately did not want her to view me as her enemy or a traitor, but I think that ended up devastatingly being the case, anyway. Which is why I have not allowed myself to think about Tom Cruise in probably five months, and I'm glad that I did it. I think I have sort of ironically healed my own brain in that way. I really did not need to take this celebrity as seriously as I did.

It's so stupid. Over fictional stuff that was supposed to be fun. I am in hell now, and I have been for a very long time. I know everyone else is having fun now, but I haven't...and I probably never will again. And I know that I probably deserve this for what I had put others through. But goddamn - I just need to say that none of it was done out of malice or ill-intent. I was just a severely-damaged person at the time, who hadn't been ready for a fandom that contained a lot of heavy fictional topics, I stupidly overreacted to them and passed my mental damage onto other people, and now I am never able to participate in the thing that I love again.

I'm saying this now because my best friend, who was one of R00smav's most prolific writers, doesn't love them anymore. I had hoped she would at least talk about them to me, but I know that everything that has happened has killed her love for them. She wrote some of the most definitive fiction for R00smav, and I can't even talk about her fics with her without feeling like I am bothering her. She wrote my favorite Bradley POV, and she doesn't love him. I just completely fucking broke down crying over this today.

I am sick of myself, and I am just so sick.

#R00smav #I've been crying about this and my sister just told me to write it out to get it off of my chest #I hate myself and I hate everything...I have NEVER been involved in something like this and I'm so sorry for everything #I would give anything to turn back time and just be a normal fucking person from the start but obviously it has been too late for a long ti #I'm just so fucking sick #I am pinning this because I know that everyone thinks that I am a completely fucking freak and a traitor now #but this is my side of what had happened and I don't mind if anyone else wants to say theirs #I know what I had done wrong but none of it was done out of malice - I truly was just a very weak broken-brained person

[sundaysundaes]

Love Bites

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader, ft. Mark Lee | Vampire AU, Roommates AU | Smut, Fluff, Humor, Romance

Summary: Supernatural creatures don’t scare you, so when the cute neighbor who lives just across the hallway offers you a chance to move in for cheaper rent, you agree in a heartbeat--even when he consumes human blood on a daily basis.

Warnings: Smut, vampire sex, sex in front of a mirror, blood sucking, unprotected sex, slight choking. For the sake of the plot, Y/N is slightly intoxicated in this fic (drunk sex). Please don’t read this fic if this makes you feel uncomfortable. I also don’t approve nor allow taking advantage of your romantic partner while they are under the influence of alcohol.

Supernatural things don’t really scare you. Growing up in a family that tells urban legends and mystical myths as bedtime stories makes you feel somewhat reserved toward spooky stuff, to the point that you won’t even bat an eyelash during a jump scare at literally any scary movie out there. It’s not like you’ve seen any supernatural creatures with your own eyes but you believe in their existence, especially when you live in a town where freaky things happen on daily basis. 

You’re not sure about werewolves and zombies, but vampires do roam the earth the second the moon replaces the sun. It’s not merely a rumor anymore, it’s a fact. But they keep their presence in secret, trying to act as humanly as possible so they won’t gather unnecessary attention. And since no one has found any dead bodies with bite marks or severe blood loss, people don’t really identify them as a threat. You perceive things in a similar way. As long as they don’t bother you, then you can co-exist in peace. That’s what you believe.

So when you visit your neighbor in the middle of the night, the cute guy—probably still in his early twenties—who lives just across the hallway, you figure you’ll see him smiling back, maybe even offer you a cup of coffee out of courtesy. Now, you don’t usually barge into someone else’s apartment even when the front door is unlocked, but seeing how the two of you are already on a first-name basis, always greet each other with a nod whenever your eyes make eye contact, you think to yourself, “Yeah, he wouldn’t mind if I come in, would he? What’s the worst thing that could happen? He’s too cute to be a serial killer anyway.” Which, you realize soon enough, was a poor, terrible logic on your part. 

But you turn over his doorknob with a click and invite yourself in.

So clearly, you do not expect to see him sitting bare-chested on the couch with his girlfriend’s legs hooked around his waist. Clearly, you do not expect to see his hand yanking at the roots of her hair, forcing her to expose the column of her neck and making her call his name in the most wanton moan you’ve ever heard in your life—even if you’ve had a fair share of watching porn movies (for research purposes). And you most clearly do not expect to see him sinking his canines deep into her skin, not caring when trails of blood start to taint her bare shoulder and groaning in bliss as he relishes the taste of her blood.

So naturally, the only thing you can think of is:

Oh shit.

“Wait!” A hand finds its way to tangle around your wrist when you slip behind his front door to run back to your own. His icy cold skin makes you flinch in surprise but you keep your face still. As you turn around to see the owner, you’re greeted by the sight of him with his eyes turning as dark as the night. His brunette hair is made of curls and waves, seems unbelievably soft and silky with bangs almost covering his eyes. His lips and cheeks are smeared with fresh blood, possibly from trying to wipe his mouth in hurry with the back of his hand. His fangs are no longer shown and although he seems breathless, you can tell he’s not breathing from how still his chest is moving (but you’re too distracted with the sight of how toned it is). His black jeans are hanging dangerously low on his hips, unbuttoned but not yet unzipped, and it’s harder for you to not stare at his v-lines compared to the amount of blood that painted his lips.

Trying to act nonchalant, you simply ask, “Yes?”

“This isn’t what it looks like.”

“Oh, so you’re not a vampire drinking blood from your girlfriend’s neck?”

He gapes, eyes growing wide, before, “Okay, then it is what it looks like.”

You retract your hand, giving him a formal nod. “Cool.” 

“Cool?”  

“Yeah, as in, no problem. You have a kink. I understand.”

“No, I mean—” He pinches the bridge of his nose, somewhat dizzy from your reaction. “Why are you so calm about this?”

You frown. “I’m confused. Would you rather have me freak-out and tell our landlord that you’ve been spilling maiden’s blood on his carpet?”

“Well, no, but—” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Also, I’m a professional. I don’t leave stains.”

“Congratulations, I’m impressed.” You clap your hands twice, face blank. “Well anyway, I guess I owe you an apology. I didn’t mean to sneak into your apartment without permission and disturb your…” You scratch your cheek, attempting to find the right word. “Late night snacking time—”

“Oh, God.” He rubs his palm over his face but before he can protest any further, his lover is calling him from the inside of his room.

“Lee Donghyuck, come back to me. I haven’t come yet.”

You stare flatly at him, trying not to look as judgmental as possible but most likely failing terribly at it. “She sounds nice.”

He mirrors the look on your face. “Yeah well, she tastes nice.”

“Ugh, too much info there, buddy.”

“No, I mean, her blood, not—” You’re not sure whether vampires can blush but this one surely seems like one. “Why did you even come here again?”

“Oh, that’s right.” You remember. “This is totally cliche and I wish I could say a better excuse but I was making coffee and ran out of sugar. Do you have some I can borrow? And maybe some cream?”

“Seriously?” It’s supposed to be a sarcastic response, but when he sees you nodding your head, he adds, “Do I look like I drink coffee in my spare time?”

“You spend eternity without drinking coffee?” You gasp, laying a hand on your heart. “I feel sorry for you.”

“Leave. Please.”

***

On the next evening, you find yourself crossing the hallway and knocking on his apartment’s door again. Knowing how patience has never been one of your virtues, you try to turn his doorknob after your third knock. Like last night, it’s unlocked with a click so you invite yourself in, calling his name.

“Lee Donghyuck, are you here—”

“I really need to fix that stupid lock.” 

The sound of his voice startles you when he suddenly walks into view, but not as much as the sight of him with a white towel hanging around his neck, his wet hair dripping water to his bare chest, and another towel wrapped around his waist. 

He notices you’re staring so with a small smirk, he comments, “So you’re fine seeing me with human’s blood on my face but completely left in shocked when I’m half-naked?”

You put your best effort to act unfazed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You do know us vampires can tell when you’re lying, right? We can hear your heartbeat.”

“And yet, you didn’t hear me coming into your apartment last night.”

“I was…” He narrows his eyes. “Distracted.”

“You mean you were too horny to notice.”

“You—” He exhaled loudly, perhaps a habit he invented to make him seem more human. “Why are you here again today?”

“Can’t I greet my neighbor?”

He snorts loudly but walks away, throwing himself on the couch. “Seriously, why aren’t you surprised about this?”

“About you being a vampire? Or about your God awful taste in women?”

“Yeah?” He mocks back, making a face. “As if your boyfriend Mark Lee is any better.” When he sees a blush blooming on your face, he snickers. “Enlighten me, Sweetheart. How does it feel to have a lover that only last for one minute during—”

“Okay, I’ll take my words back. Everything. Can we move on, please?” You try to yank yourself back to your normal state, even when you feel downright ashamed. “So, this vampire thing. How long have you been a vampire?”

“Long enough.”

“How old were you when you first turned?”

“Young enough.”

“How often do you drink human blood?“

“Often enough.”

You glare at him, earning a sly grin in return. “You’re not taking me seriously, are you?”

He sends you the best serious expression he can manage. “Serious enough.”

“Right, okay, I’m leaving. Have fun being an asshole for eternity.”

But the second you turn around in your heels, Donghyuck is already on the other side of the room,  closing his front door and leaning his back against it. “Now, now, you come in as you please, uninvited. You don’t think I’ll let you go just like that, right?”

You raise an eyebrow in question. “What do you want?”

“I think it’s something that we both want.” He steps closer, voice sounding smooth and alluring. “You know what I’m talking about, right?”

You gulp, suddenly becoming nervous. He’s an arms reach away, and then closer, and closer until you can feel his cold fingers tracing against your cheekbone, lifting your face so his eyes are locked with yours. 

“I’m—” You can feel your breathing starts to stutter. “I’m not giving you my blood.”

“But it’s not blood that I want from you.” His eyes are half-lidded, his thumb tracing your lower lip. “I’ve been thinking about this so much lately.”

Your heart feels like a ticking bomb inside your chest. “A-about what?”

“About our rent. Do you want to move in together so we can split the rental fee?”

***

It’s both ridiculous and dumb, his offer to move in together for cheaper rent, so it’s even more ridiculous and dumb when you agree to it. There are several reasons that make sense, actually—at least, to you anyway: 1) your neighbor may be a vampire but he’s super hot and although that doesn’t make everything okay, it does make his offer sound incredibly tempting, 2) your landlord is going to raise the rent in the following two months, 3) your part-time job’s salary can only cover so much of your living cost and you have no savings whatsoever, 4) if you can ignore the fact that he brings random girls at night for midnight snacks, he becomes much, much hotter.

Of course, there are risks to think about as well. Sharing a place with another person can bring trouble, so you can only imagine how troublesome would it be to share your home with a vampire. What if he gets too thirsty and starts drinking from you instead? 

You gulp. The thought of it is actually kind of… sexy.

Mark. You mentally slap yourself in the head. You have a boyfriend. Stop crushing on your damn neighbor.

Well, there is nothing serious going on with Mark actually. You guys were just lab partners in high school, went on a couple of dates, had a terribly awkward first kiss, had a heavy make-out session with him ejaculating under one minute when you dry-humped him on the couch of your living room. 

So yeah, nothing serious.

“My apartment or yours?” You ask after a week has passed by, the second he opens his door for you. “Your apartment is bigger, but mine is cleaner.”

“Whatever you want, Sweetheart,” he smirks, leaning against the doorframe, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I don’t mind as long we can split the fee.”

“Yeah, why is that? You’re running out of money?”

His smirk instantly falters. “Well, it’s not exactly easy for vampires to get a job these days.”

“You literally have superhuman skills.”

“Well, you guys have the technology!” He throws his hands in the air, absolutely disgusted with the word by the sight of it. “And the Internet! Sure, I can run pretty fast, I have super hearing, I can see in the dark but these fucking technologies can do literally everything I’m capable of—and everything I’m not capable of—with only a few clicks!”

“Do you need a hug?”

He’s still pouting but shrugs. “Can’t hurt.”

“There, there.” You give him a pat on his back as he leans down so you can reach his height. “I’ll teach you some basic stuff to get you updated.”

“Thanks.”

“You’ll get through this.” You pull away, squeezing his shoulders. “So, about moving in together. Shall we talk about house rules and stuff?”

“Sure, but before that,” he smiles, opening his door wider for you. “Come in. I don’t bite.”

It’s something about him using that poor choice of words with that teasing smirk on his face that makes your stomach feel uneasy but you nod and let yourself in. As he closes the door, he adds, “Unless it’s what you’re into.”

“Getting my blood drunk by a vampire?” You scoff, trying to steady your racing heart though he can probably tell already. “Why would it be something I’m into?”

“Well, my ladies surely enjoyed it,” he chuckles and you secretly think to yourself, yeah because you’re fucking hot, that’s why, but you keep yourself ignorant on the outside. “But if you’re ever curious,” he coos, eyes nearly glowing as he pushes his bangs back with one hand, “I’m down anytime you want.”

You shudder, but from disgust or excitement, you’re not sure. “Thanks, but no thanks. So, house rules?”

***

It turns out to be shockingly easy to share an apartment with an undead creature of the night. Your source of information regarding vampires are from the collection of your young adult supernatural novels, ranging from something serious like Interview with The Vampire, to something mediocre like The Vampire Diaries, and something absolutely ridiculous and downright outrageous like Twilight. So it’s not really surprising when your first assumption of vampires are dead people who look unusually pale but strikingly attractive, have constant frowns on their faces as they brood over literally everything that’s happening as if they’re constipated all the time (they’re not, since vampires don’t have that bodily function anymore) and kill people in their spare time by sucking their blood dry.

But Donghyuck isn’t like that at all, to the point you have to convince yourself that he’s a century-old vampire and not a brat going through puberty.

Because Donghyuck isn’t pale, his skin is tan as if he was kissed by the sun when he has been hiding from it his whole life. It’s smooth, unscarred, and almost golden under the fluorescent light of your apartment. 

He’s not heartless either. He cried during watching Hachiko even when the dog owner was still alive and well, shouting, “Bad shit is going to happen. Bad shit is going to happen to the dog—look how cute that dog is—look just how fucking cute he is—he doesn’t deserve any pain—if this dog dies by the end of the movie, I will combust,” to the screen. So the thought of him killing someone by sucking their blood dry? Seems very unlikely.

And he’s not broody or angry all the time. He’s extremely playful and annoyingly mischievous. He keeps his stock of blood in empty bottles of red wine and places them inside the fridge with a handwritten note that says: “It’s really just wine, Sweetheart. I bought some as a housewarming gift. Come take a sip.” You did, once, out of curiosity, and from that day on you promised yourself that you’d never ever trust his words for as long as you live.

Being a monster, he should’ve been the cause of fear, but in reality, he gets scared from a lot of things—even the things that shouldn’t scare a baby. You will never forget the day when a loud crash came thundering from his room, two seconds before he came barging into yours, screaming with wide eyes, “THERE’S A COCKROACH FLYING IN MY ROOM!”

“And what did you do?”

“I THREW THE TV AT IT BUT THAT FUCKING THING STILL LIVES!”

“WHAT?! But that’s our TV!”

“IT WAS FLYING TO MY FACE AND I PANICKED—WHAT THE FUCK WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?!”

Even a butterfly that sneaks in from the window makes him jump on his feet. It was cute the first two times it happened, but seeing how he keeps on throwing random things—your phone, included—to keep the bugs away, you probably should start adding another house rule.

Speaking about rules, they’re pretty basic. It’s settled that you’ll both do your cleaning separately. No borrowing things without permission, no spending too much time in the bathroom because although he doesn’t need to go to the toilet, Donghyuck enjoys drawing himself a warm bubble bath for hours, as he takes a sip of his ‘red wine’. And you’re fine with him bringing girls over to your place as long as he does his midnight snacking in his own room. You were against it before but then you figure that you’re going to have Mark in your room from time-to-time (your date night is cheaper this way) so you really don’t have the right to forbid him.

But man, if only you could take back your words.

Because when Donghyuck said his ladies surely enjoyed it when he drank from them, you didn’t think that they would enjoy it this much. And you didn’t think that drinking blood from a human equals having sex with them all night long.

The sound of “Aah, yes fuck me just like that,” and “Bite me again, Lee Donghyuck, I want you to bite me as hard as you fuck me,” can be heard coming endlessly from his bedroom whenever he brings a girl—sometimes even two, for God’s sake—over. You have to plug your AirPods into your ears, blast the volume to the maximum until you can literally feel your ears going deaf while pulling a pillow over your head. And even then you still can hear them. Your apartment has excellent sound-proofed walls so your neighbors don’t really hear the loud screeches they’re making, but for you who sleeps in the room just across the living room? A living hell.

Fortunately, it doesn’t happen every day. It doesn’t happen every week, even, since he always keeps some stocks of blood in the fridge.

“Did you take this blood from those girls?” You grimaced one night, as you opened your refrigerator to slide in your pudding leftover and noticed three huge bottles of red wine completely filled up to the brim.

He laughed, waving a hand. “Of course not, stupid. How could I even do that in the first place? I bought some blood bags from the hospital, obviously.” He was sitting on the couch before but when he delivered his next line, he suddenly stood behind you, lips hovering dangerously close to your ear. “And just in case you’re wondering,” you could feel his smirk grazing your earlobe. “I only drink directly when I want to have sex.”

The heat was spreading almost immediately to your cheeks so you hid it by throwing a punch to his stomach, which he easily dodged. “Still,” you complained, “There’s blood in my fridge.”

“Hey, I never complain when you keep your celery juice in there.” He scrunched his nose in disgust. “I don’t eat or drink human foods, but who the fuck drinks celery juice?”

***

Donghyuck is also exceptionally talkative, you’ve learned along the way. It’s nice to have someone to fill the silence, moving from one random topic to another, never letting an awkward pause hang for too long. But he can also be exceptionally annoying when you have some papers to do and he’s bothering you because he’s bored out of his mind. He’ll start pestering you with questions—unimportant questions—like, “If you only have one eye, are you blinking or winking?” Or “Why is it that when you are sleeping it's called drool but when you are awake it's called spit?” And the stupidest of them all, “Why did Superman wear his briefs on the outside of his tights? This question intrigues me.”

And you’ll eventually start to lose it, throw a pillow to his face and yell, “GET OUT OF MY ROOM!”

But by the end of the day, it’s really fun to have him around. Not just because you can secretly enjoy the sight of him coming out of your shared bathroom with only a towel hanging low around his hips, but also because he’s a vampire and you can spend your time doing actual research about it.

“So,” you began one day after the sun has set and he crawled out of his room with the biggest bird's nest on his head. You had a romance novel on your lap, your fingers running through the pages. “Are you like an actual vampire or are you the romanticized, somewhat gay vampire they usually depict in books?”

“Well, I’ve never been with a man but I don’t really oppose the idea.” He took a seat beside you on the couch, laying his feet on the coffee table. You kind of just stare at him, not exactly judging his words, just… bewildered. 

He noticed the look on your face. “When you’ve lived for a century, you gotta learn how to keep things interesting, even if that means having a dick in my mouth.”

“That’s…” You swallowed. “Not exactly something I want to imagine.”

“You should, though. Try picturing me with your boyfriend Mark for a sec. Don’t we look hot together?” You had to look away when he wiggled his eyebrows at you. You just had to.

“So, these vampire books you said you read,” he went back to the previous topic after cackling for a whole ten seconds at the flustered look on your face. “How do they depict us exactly?”

“You’ve never read one?”

“Have you ever read any books about humans written by vampires?”

“Fair point. Well, it said that vampires couldn’t see themselves in the mirror.”

“Myth,” he replied, leaning his head against the couch. “I can see myself in the mirror and I like seeing myself just as much as you do whenever I come out of the bathroom.”

You almost blurt out the cinnamon cookie you just ate. “Excuse me?!” You cough, eyes starting to get a little teary. “Who said I like looking at you?”

“You don’t?” The way his eyes twinkled made you a little bit weak. A smirk grew apparent on his face. “You sure about that?”

You cleared your throat, flipping another page of your book. “Next question,” you continued, ignoring the soft laugh he emitted. “Do garlic, holy water, and silver scare you?”

“They don’t scare me,” he clicked his tongue, vexed by the way you composed your words. “I just don’t like them.”

“Right, so that’s a yes. Do you have to be invited in to be able to enter someone’s home?”

He tightened his jaw, quietly murmured, “Yes.”

“Can you read someone’s thoughts?”

“No, but I can tell how they’re feeling through their heartbeat.” His eyes were boring into yours, lips curving upward. “Like you, for example. I can tell that whenever I’m around you, your heartbeat runs just a little bit faster.”

You glanced away, rubbing your nose. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Ah,” he showcased his perfect marbled teeth as he grinned knowingly. “Just like that. Your heartbeat is increasing again. Are you lying to me, milady?”

“You’re freaking annoying, you know that?”

“It’s part of my charm.”

“Speaking of that,” you immediately said, knowing it was the perfect chance to avert his attention to another topic. “Can you charm someone?”

“With these looks?” He gestured to his entire body. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” But when you started scowling at him, he added, “But if you’re talking about mind compulsion, yes, I am able to do that. I can erase and alter people’s memories, even controlling them only by making eye contact.”

“That sounds pretty convenient.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t like doing it.” He shrugged, staring at the ceiling with droopy eyes. “Hypnotizing them to get what I want just doesn’t sit right with me. I want to feel a connection, you know?”

“So doing one night stands with vampire groupies is the perfect way to earn that connection, I suppose?”

He tilted his head, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “You really know how to attack someone’s pride, huh?”

“Part of my charm,” you mimic him with a nod. “Okay, next question. Can you die with a wooden stake piercing your heart?”

He rolled his eyes. “Everybody dies with a stake in—what is this, an interrogation?”

“Do churches—”

“Okay, Sweetheart.” He closed your book, smiling at you though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I think that’s enough. My turn.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, not really pleased with the way he just suddenly changed the direction of your conversation. “What do you want to know?” You indulged him anyway.

He tilted his head, propping his elbow on his thigh, fingers tapping against his cheek as he rested his chin on his palm. Gazing at you intensely, he asked, “Are you a virgin?”

It didn’t take even a split second for you to blush. “T-that’s—What kind of question is that—”

“Ah, so you are.” His smile grew a bit larger, but you weren’t sure whether he was amused, aroused, or just excited to mock you about it. “Is that why you’ve been staring at me a lot lately? Because you’re curious?”

“For the last time,” you emphasized, though your heart was hammering against your ribcages. “I wasn’t looking at you. I never—”

“You’re adorable when you lie,” he snickered, a lopsided smile painting his face. “Your heartbeat sounds like you just did a marathon. Are you okay?”

You threw your book at him, successfully wiping the smirk on his goddamn perfect face, and raced back to your own room.

“Ah, she’s really cute.” Was the last thing you heard him say before you slammed your bedroom door behind you.

***

For a vampire, Donghyuck’s presence is as bright as the sun, always managing to lift your mood whenever you’re too stressed about your college assignments or too exhausted from your part-time job. Of course, he’s also the cause of your stress more often than not, but whenever you get into a fight with him—usually because he’s so disorganized and you’re too obsessive to keep everything in order—it doesn’t last long and ends up with him making you the best dinner you’ve ever had to compensate, even when he’s not the one at fault.

Donghyuck doesn’t consume human food but he makes the best cuisine you’ve ever tasted in your life. And also the sight of him wearing your pink apron while humming to a Michael Jackson’s song with his bangs tied to the side using your hairclip is really, really something to behold—which is weird because that obviously doesn’t scream sexy in any way, or masculine even, but it makes your stomach do somersaults most delightfully.

“Dinner is served, Milady,” he says, laying down a plate of Spaghetti Aglio e Olio in front of you, making you gawk at the sight. “And it’s special because it contains a lot of garlic—seriously, like a lot. I had to put some gloves on and everything.”

“You’re an angel.” You nearly cry and it’s not an exaggeration. “I can’t believe you did this all for me.”

“Well, I haven’t really thanked you for covering my rent last month so…”

“It’s fine, you can pay me back later.” You take a hold of your fork, already wetting your lips in anticipation, and waste not a second longer before you dig in. When the cheese melts inside your mouth, you almost moan in joy. “Oh my God, this is so good. I love you.”

He chuckles, suddenly standing behind you, leaning forward so he’s next to your ear. “Yeah? How much?”

You raise your silver spoon in the air and he immediately leaps to the other side of the kitchen, startled and scared out of his mind. “Hey, that’s not nice! I thought we’ve talked about this!”

Rolling your eyes at him, you take another spoonful of it. “Man, you should really make a job out of this,” you comment. He only cooks whenever he feels sorry for you for going through a hard day—whether it was because of him or something else—but if that’s what it takes to have this magnificent dish entering your mouth, you don’t mind suffering more often.

“I really should, huh?” He takes a seat on the kitchen counter, his legs dangling a few inches in the air. “I’m really running low on money.”

“I thought vampires were supposed to be rich and like, noble.”

“You’re confusing us with Aristocrats.” He grieves. “Do you think I can get a night shift at a restaurant downtown?”

“Oh, I actually know a place. I’ll take you there tomorrow.”

“Like on a date?”

You almost drop your fork. “Why do you have to make everything weird?”

His cheeky grin is contagious but you’ve become a master of handling your expression. “I just like seeing you blush,” he confesses. “Have I told you how cute you are?”

“Today? Not yet,” you mutter as you munch on your food. “Yesterday? Approximately two hundred and thirty-five times.”

“Then I’ll try to break another record today.” He throws you a wink.

“Shut up and let me eat in peace, please.”

***

“Donghyuck-ah.”

“Yes, baby?”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop posting a goddamn selfie every ten minutes!” You almost throw your phone to his face but since it’ll be a waste, you decide to throw your shoe instead. “I didn’t teach you how to use Instagram for this!”

Donghyuck easily dodges every single thing you’re throwing at him. “Didn’t you tell me to promote my cooking skill? That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“How does this—” You show your phone’s screen to him, almost smacking him on the face with how fast and hard you’re doing it. You slide your thumb over his Instagram feeds, showing more than fifty different pictures of his close-up face and he just made that account two days ago. “—promote your cooking skill?!” 

“But, look,” he guides you, clasping his hand to yours so you’re both holding your phone. He taps from one picture to another. “This is me holding a spatula. This is me boiling water and this is me pouring barbecue sauce—”

“Oh my God.” You almost yank every hair out of your head—or out of his head. “I follow more than four hundred people and all I can see is your damn selfies!”

“Correction, my damn cute selfies.” He pecks your cheek. “You’re welcome, babe.”

But all jokes aside, it actually works. His adorable selfies—no matter how bad you hate to admit it—are attracting more followers each day that by the time a week has passed by, he has gained more followers than you (and you’ve had your account for three years, shame on you).

And on the following two months, he gets his first endorsement deal.

“I can’t believe this,” you say, gaping as you stare over his shoulder to look at his phone’s screen, shamelessly reading his direct messages. He’s getting an offer to become a brand ambassador for this little bakery with a cover photo of a lady with chubby cheeks baking cupcakes. “I can’t believe there are people crazy enough to hire you.”

“Hey, privacy!” He immediately stands up from the couch, covering his screen with his palm. “I could’ve been sending nudes!”

“You’re sending nudes?”

“Well, not my nudes.” He rolls his eyes.

“How is that any better?!”

“Look, I’m busy. I got a gig.” He grins proudly. “I’m on my way to becoming a celebrity, babe. Do you want my autograph now before it’s too late? I could sign your bra if you want. I mean, I’m totally down if you want me to sign your tits, but if you ever think that could be awkward—”

You smack his head with a spatula.

***

It’s your first date night after nearly half a year of not contacting Mark due to him going overseas for student exchange, and you’re nervous for various reasons.

First, you haven’t told Mark you’ve been sharing a place with a guy.

Second, you certainly haven’t told him that this guy is a vampire.

Third, you absolutely in any way cannot tell him that you’ve been secretly crushing on this guy while your boyfriend was away studying.

And last but not least, you know that if anything happens tonight, whether it ends up with you fighting with Mark or finally losing your virginity to him, Donghyuck can hear every single thing.

So you barge into his room, hand laying on the front of his bedroom door as you push it open. “Donghyuck-ah.”

Like always, he’s laying idly on his bed, head almost dangling on the edge of it with his phone in his hands. “Yes, baby?”

You sigh, rubbing your temple. “How many times should I tell you? Don’t call me that.”

“You’re not my baby anymore?” He fakes a loud gasp. “I am shocked.”

“Mark is coming over tonight.”

His movements stop abruptly. “I didn’t realize you were still with him.”

“Of course, I am. Why wouldn’t I be? He’s been nothing but sweet to me.”

His eyes lose the mischievous spark he usually displays in them. “And yet, you keep drooling over my body. Can’t say I’m not hurt.”

“I never—” You exhale loudly, throwing your head back. “I’m not going to have this argument again. He’s coming over tonight to have dinner—”

“But you’re a shitty cook.”

“By dinner, I mean take-outs,” you admit your defeat. “Anyway, I came here to ask you a favor.”

“Sweetheart,” he calls, turning over to his stomach so he can face you without having to see you upside down. “I know I said I wanted to make things interesting, but having a threesome with you and Mark? So suddenly like this? Don’t you think it’s gonna be a little awkward between us? I barely know the dude. You should at least tell me what kind of person he is, whether he likes action movies or romantic ones, whether he blames someone else when he farts—I need to know him before I have his dick in my mouth.”

Talking to him gives you headaches, you should’ve really come prepared. “Are you done?”

“Do you still want me to continue? Okay, well—”

“Shut up, please for the love of God, shut up.” You should take your leave before he starts yapping again. “Look, that super hearing thing you do? Can you turn it off just for one night?”

“Sure thing, click,” he says, snapping his fingers near his ear. “Done. Now I’m deaf.”

You flatly stare at him. “I’m serious.”

“Whaaaaat? I can’t heaaaaar youuuu.”

“Hyuck!” 

He groans loudly, rolling his eyes. “Well, it’s not like my ears have on-and-off buttons I can just switch, okay? What do you want from me?”

He’s right, there’s nothing you can do. “Then, can you leave the apartment for the night?”

He opens his mouth wide, hand going to his chest. “You’re kicking me out from my own apartment? This is heresy!”

“Donghyuck-ah, please!” Great, now you’re stomping your feet like a child. “I just really need some privacy for tonight.”

“Oh, you’re gonna get laid, aren’t you?” He raves mockingly, but his eyes are somewhat bitter. “Seriously? With that guy? I think you could do so much better, Sweetheart.”

Vexed, you jeer back, “Yeah? And who do you have in mind? You?”

You’re not sure whether it’s your words or the way you say them because his eyes suddenly turn darker, almost glowering at you but it only happens for a second or two so you’re not sure if you even see that clearly.

“Well, it’s not my business, is it?” He casually chirps, smiling at you again though something still feels off. “Don’t worry, I won’t eavesdrop on you two. I have a lot of kinks but voyeurism isn’t one of those. You won’t even notice I’m here.”

“You…” Something feels really off with the way he’s acting. It’s like he’s visibly upset but trying to act nonchalant about it. “You’re sure?”

“You have my words.”

“Okay then.” Whatever it is, you figure you can deal with that later. “Well, I’m gonna take a shower.”

As you shut the door behind you, uneasiness starts to fill your chest.

***

Your date with Mark is going well. It’s going so well, even, that you end up lying on your bed, perfectly naked,  lips swollen from his kisses, with him hovering on top of you, both breathless and speechless.

And unfortunately for you, also clueless.

He has a packet of condoms in his hand, and no matter how embarrassing it is for you, you already have your legs spread on the bed, waiting for him to… well, do whatever it is he’s supposed to do. Perhaps it’s okay for you to be clueless about sex because guys usually take the lead, right?

Wrong.

“Okay, wait, let me just—” Mark’s fingers are shaking due to anxiety. His poor, innocent mind cannot handle being so painfully turned-on and awkwardly embarrassed at the same time. Your boyfriend has always been awkward with literally everything, which kind of makes him adorable but it does not come as cute—not in the slightest—when he’s doing the exact opposite of what’s he’s supposed to do. Somewhere deep in his mind, he probably knows that he’s supposed to tear apart the packet sexily with his teeth,  put the condom on within seconds, and thrust into you as painlessly as possible. But in reality, what’s currently happening is he tries to catch the condom that flew out in the air after he managed to tear the packet apart with his shaky fingers. He then progresses to try putting on the condom for approximately fifteen minutes while flinching several times when he accidentally slaps the elastic band against his cock.

The whole thing is a fucking disaster (no pun intended) and all the passion, desire, and arousal that you once felt swirling in your stomach vanish in an instant. And when you thought things couldn’t get any worse, it does, because being a virgin himself, Mark doesn’t really know where to, for the lack of better words, put it in.

“Mark?”

“Y-yeah?”

“That’s my asshole.”

So with a reassuring (fake) smile, you lay a hand on his chest and gently push him backward, trying not to wince in chagrin when you suggest, “Maybe we should stop and try again some other time?”

You two dress back into your clothes in silence and after you escort him to your front door, Mark tries to kiss you at the same time you’re leaning in for a friendly hug so it ends up with him knocking his teeth against your forehead.

When he’s gone, you close the front door with a sigh, pressing your spine against the wooden surface as you soothe the pain on your temple away with your fingertips. It doesn’t take long before Donghyuck peeks his head from behind his door. Noticing you’re alone, he steps into the living room, leaning against the wall just a couple of meters away from where you’re standing. 

“So,” he begins, acting casual, “How was the date with—” He suddenly bursts out laughing, one hand holding his stomach as he nearly tumbles down to the floor, cackling like a mad man. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have eavesdropped but man, did he really put it in the wrong hole? Oh God, this shit is just beyond me, man.”

With your shoulders slumped forward, you walk back into your room, trying to gather back the pieces of dignity you have left.

***

“You know what I should do?” Donghyuck asks with a game controller in his hand. To stop him from making fun of you and your terrible incident with your boyfriend, you’ve borrowed a PlayStation from your cousin. Even though he claimed that he despised technology, Donghyuck is actually brilliant when he puts his mind to it. It doesn’t take more than two hours for him to master the game, already adapting to every button of the controller, even manages to land a few high scores in the last ten minutes. He used to prefer to live in the old school way, but that soon changed after your influence.

“Pray to God for forgiveness so He won’t send you to hell?” You offer, as you take a seat next to him on the carpeted floor, crossing your legs, eyes staring idly at the screen. 

“Cute, but no.” He clicks some buttons aggressively, trying to reach yet another high score. “I should become a historian. I mean, I’ve seen things happened with my own eyes—the first world war, the second world war, the birth of Jesus.” He sneaks a glance, but seeing no reaction coming from you, he juts out his lower lip in disappointment. “It’s cruel that you don’t indulge me with my jokes these days.”

“Oh, so you want me to respond? I thought you just liked hearing yourself talk.”

“Heeeeeey,” he hisses, leering at you. “I know you’re hurt that your boyfriend tried to butt-fuck you but don’t throw this all on me.”

Oh my God. “Right, then let’s try this.” You have no choice but to please him this way before he destroys whatever is left of your pride. You do a quick search on your phone, throwing a random question from what you found in the article. “Who led our country in 1950?”

“Easy. The guy with the bald head. No, wait, is it the skinny one with the huge mole on his neck?”

“Name, Hyuck. I need a name.” You exhale in exasperation.

“Oh, I got it! The one with the annoying high-pitched voice!”

“How the hell am I supposed to know?”

“Well, how the hell am I supposed to remember shits that happened seventy years ago?”

You give him a look, eyes staring at him lifelessly. “You’re right, you should totally apply for the job. You’ll nail it.”

***

“I can’t believe this.”

“Saying that multiple times won’t really change anything, Sweetheart.”

“I can’t believe this,” you repeat, this time while standing up from the couch, slamming your fashion magazine down to the table. “I can’t believe our air conditioner broke when it’s nearly thirty degrees outside! Aren’t you hot?!”

“Am I hot—” He snorts, flipping a page of his novel.  Yes, it is actually quite bizarre that he spends his spare time reading. “What kind of question is that? Of course, I’m hot. Haven’t you seen the number of girls I brought into this place?”

“Ugh, God!” You plop back into your seat, throwing your head back in vexation. “What are you even reading?”

“That vampire book you talked about yesterday.”

“Which one?”

“The one that’s interesting.”

“Oh, Interview with The Vampire?”

“No.” The way he rolls his eyes as if he’s disgusted with your guess is beyond you. “Twilight.”

“Oh my God, stay away from me.”

“What—this is actually good!”

“These vampires sparkle under the sun—aren’t you, at the very least, offended? Because I’m livid and I’m human.”

“That’s what makes it interesting, actually,” he retorts, eyes moving back-and-forth as he reads through a passage. “They’re so different than us in real life, so it’s like seeing through a new perspective. I’m Team Jacob, by the way.”

“Good Lord.” You palm the side of your face. “You’re more than a hundred years-old but you have the taste of a teenage girl going through puberty. I’m ashamed of knowing you.”

“You’re just cranky because of the weather.”

“I’m literally dying.” You can feel sweat drenching your back, all the way to your shirt and you just took a shower twenty minutes ago. “You’re lucky you’re immune to temperature changes.”

“Then wanna sit on my lap?”

Your ears must be playing tricks on you. “Excuse me?”

Donghyuck sighs, closing his book and throws it away to the side. Turning to you, he repeats slowly, dragging out every syllable. “Do. you. want. to. sit. on. my. lap?”

You send him a blank stare, annoyed. “I heard you, asshole. I’m not an idiot. I’m just shocked at your offer. You’re really going all out in harassing me these days, aren’t you?”

“What—” He throws his hands in the air, exasperated. “I’m a vampire, remember? I have cold skin. Here,” he takes one of your hands, sliding it down his shirt as if it’s nothing, and presses it against his stomach. “Can you feel it?”

All the blood rushes to your face, making you feel lightheaded but also conscious of how his skin feels under your palm. It is cold, though not as cold as he’d made a big deal out of it. It’s like the room temperature during the spring season, at most. But compared to how sizzling it is right now, his skin is nice to the touch, relaxing even. 

But all that thought just goes straight out of the window when he shifts on his seat and you can feel his abs muscles contracting.

“Whoa,” he stops, looking at you. “Are you okay? Your heartbeat is insane.”

You smack him on the head and try to suffocate him with your cushion. It doesn’t work since he doesn’t breathe, but at least it can stop him from seeing how red your face is turning.

But when another day passes by and your landlord is still taking his sweet time trying to find a cheap handyman to repair your AC, you decide to take on his offer. You know it’s weird for roommates to cuddle but, as you try to reason within yourself, you will be sitting on the-sexiest-man-you’ve-ever-witnessed-with-your-eyes’ lap, your back pressing against his (hopefully) bare chest, and snuggle close until your body heat is no longer screaming at you in agony. You don’t really see any problem with this. After all, you have been imagining how it would feel to sit on his lap every time he does that manspreading thing on your couch. 

So really, what’s there to lose?

“Okay,” you begin, standing in front of him in an already awkward position. “So, how can we do this without being weird about it?”

Donghyuck tilts his face up, leaning his back against the couch, phone in his hand. “Do what?”

“Do…” You fiddle with the hem of your shirt. “You know, what you offered yesterday.”

“Hmm?” He raises his eyebrow in question, but the way one side of his lips is curving upward betrays his act. “I forgot. What exactly did I offer to do?”

“You’re seriously going to make me say this out loud?”

“Baby, I’m clueless.” His smirk grows wider, his voice filled with allure. “Please. Enlighten me.”

He’s toying with you, that’s for sure. And no matter how much you want to feel those arms around you, there’s no way you’re gonna let him degrade you like this. “Fine, then forget it,” you sulk, turning around on your heels with your scarlet cheeks puffed out but Donghyuck laughs in the most innocent way when he’s clearly nothing like that in reality. Calling your name in a sing-song voice, he circles his fingers around your wrist and tugs you back until you tumble down to his lap.

“You’re never honest,” he says, his velvety voice suddenly only a whisper away. His arms are tied securely around your waist, pulling you close until you can do nothing but lay your back against his chest. “But you’re cute so I forgive you.”

You can’t form a word, too busy trying to compose yourself. You can’t hear his heartbeat—since he’s the creature of the undead, obviously—but you assume with the proximity you’re being, you would’ve definitely heard it if he had one.

You didn’t notice it before but now that you’re sitting on his lap, your palm pressed against his thigh for stability you realize that he’s wearing black ripped jeans with holes that are oh so terribly distracting. If you dare to move your finger, you’ll be able to trace the smooth skin at the inner part of his thigh.

You gulp hard.

You can hear him snickering behind you. “Thinking about something dirty?”

You almost swallowed your own tongue. “What—no!” Flapping your hands in panic, you almost fall from his lap but his fast reflex won’t let you, as he embraces you tighter, making you fall back to his chest with a small oof.

“Relax, I’m just messing with you,” he chuckles lowly, his lips grazing against your earlobe. “This is nice. We should do this more often. You fit perfectly in my arms.” He says his line with sincerity with no trace of humor or teasing in it, which effectively make you curl your toes in bashfulness.

“You’re gonna have a heart attack if you keep your heart rate going like that, Sweetheart,” he titters.

“Yeah, well,” you try to push him away by pushing your palm against his cheek. “Unlike you, I don’t really spend my time snuggling with the opposite sex, so of course I’m nervous.”

“You’re sure it’s not because of me?”

“Absolutely. In fact, I’d most likely have a bigger reaction if Mark was the one holding me instead.”

The way he suddenly goes stiff intrigues you, but you don’t dwell on it. “Is that so?” He simply retorts back, tone suddenly becoming cold and it makes you feel uneasy.

“So, uhh…” Your breathing tatters when he becomes mute, only the sound of the ticking clock on the wall can be heard. “Wanna watch a movie?”

He only hums, placing his chin on top of your head. Since he’s always so talkative, it gets really tense when he’s quiet. “Did I offend you or something?” You question.

“I don’t know, did you?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I knew.”

“Then let’s just leave it at that.” Seeing how you keep fumbling with the remote in your hand, he snatches it away and proceeds to switch the channels. “We’re watching Twilight.”

“Nooooooo, not again!”

But his arm, as he raises it high in the air, is longer than yours so you can’t steal back the remote no matter how hard you try. And as you jump up and down, shifting back and forth on his lap, Donghyuck warns, “I don’t know if you’re doing this on purpose, but if you keep doing that, I’m gonna get a hard-on.”

You immediately stay still, hands tucked neatly on your lap, chest thundering. “You—Why—” You shake your head, flushed. “How can you say things like that?”

“Things like what?”

“Sexual things like that.” The more you reveal your thoughts, the harder you blush. “Don’t you have any shame?”

“What, I can’t be honest?” He snorts. “I didn’t mean to harass you or anything. Just letting you know in advance. It’s completely a guy thing.”

“No, it’s not just that. You always flirt with me—calling me baby, telling me how I look cute all the time when you don’t even mean it—“

You’re interrupted with a loud sigh accompanied by an impatient groan. “Turn around, look at me,” he orders and his tone is irrefutable. When you turn slightly, making eye contact, Donghyuck has his eyebrows furrowed, almost glaring at you. “I know you’re gullible, and I know you’re dense when it comes to things like this but I swear to God, if you don’t start taking a hint, I’m going to have to push you against the wall and kiss you to prove my point.”

You’re dizzy and nauseous, and your stomach is flipping like crazy and you’re conflicted between believing him or laughing at him because although he looks dead serious right now, you can’t help but wonder what if, after you give in to your feelings, he sends you that signature cheeky grin of his to reveal he’s just joking all along? You’re not even brave enough to imagine, even when the vivid image of him pushing you against the wall, his knee slipping between your legs while he brings your wrists over your head, holding them still with one hand is enough to keep you awake for hours.

So you decide to take the easy path. “Okay.”

He blinks. “Okay?”

“Okay.” You shrug, acting casual. It’s really a miracle that you don’t stutter when you deliver the next line. “You told me to take a hint, that’s what I’m doing.”

He raises one of his eyebrows, confused. “Just like that? You’re not gonna say anything more? Or do anything about it?”

“Nope.”

Slowly, there’s a shift in his expression. He shakes his head, tongue protruding against the inside of his cheek both irked and amused. “You’re really something.”

Surprisingly enough, he leaves it at that. Though it’s somehow uncomfortable, you follow his lead and just lock your eyes to your tv screen as he chooses his movie.

You have no interest in watching Twilight—absolutely nothing, zilch, zip, nada!—so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when your eyelids start to become heavy in the first thirteen minutes of the show. You would’ve fallen asleep way sooner though, if you weren’t too distracted with the way he laid his hand on your thigh, sometimes unconsciously rubbing or squeezing it with his palm when he got a little bit bored with the scene, making your breath hitched in your throat.

The room’s temperature is still hot even when it’s in the middle of the night, successfully making your bangs stick to your temple but Donghyuck is quietly humming something to himself. Soft, melodious sound is resonating from his chest directly to your ear and you begin to drift away, floating into your dreamland.

***

“Hey, wake up. It’s almost morning.”

Your bleary eyes are greeted with the dim light of the room. The TV in front of you has already been switched off so the only thing that can be heard in your apartment is the buzzing sound coming from your fridge and the faint ticking clock. 

“What time is it?” You rub your eyes, not aware that you’re still sitting on his lap, with your spine leaning against his chest. It’s until you feel his arms loosening around your waist that you begin to think, oh fuck, what have I done?

You immediately jump off his lap, tripping over your feet but manage to hold your balance by placing a hand on the coffee table. “Why didn’t you wake me?” You screech, face aflame. “You kept holding me in that position all night?”

“Yeah.” He stretches his arms above his head, cracking his neck. “I wanted to wait until you wake up by yourself, but you know, the sun is about to rise.”

You’re still pretty much flabbergasted by the whole thing. “You really should’ve woken me up.”

“Well, you seemed like you were having the best sleep you’ve ever had.” He stares at you with a twinkle in his eyes. “Was it that good being in my arms?”

You’re about to explode. “Okay, wow, look what time it is.” You try to look at your wrist and mentally slap yourself harder when you realize you’re not wearing a goddamn watch. “A-anyway, you really should go back to your room before it’s too late.”

He shakes his head, chuckling at your stupid antics as he stands up from the couch. He ruffles your hair once, making a mess out of your strands before he heads back to his room. As he slides open his door, he spares you a glance over his shoulder. “Hey.”

“What?”

“You kept calling my name in your sleep. What were you dreaming about?”

Whether it’s true or he’s just flirting with you to get your reaction, you don’t want to know. “Just go to your room!”

***

A few moments after the sun sinks below the horizon, Donghyuck comes out from his room with bleary eyes and his shoulders slumped forward. 

“Good morning, Princess,” you joke, your hands busy mixing coffee powder, sugar, and milk to make your own version of Dalgona coffee. Donghyuck scratches the back of his head, his eyes are barely open as he heads to the kitchen, not even sparing you a glance. When he opens the fridge, he groans loudly, noticing that he forgot to restock his red wine. He slams the door with a loud huff, drags his body to the dining table, and sits down with his cheek pressed against the table. Seeing how you’re not paying him any attention, he groans again, louder and whinier this time.

“Okay, what?” You ask, leaning your back against the counter, a cup of coffee in your hand.

“I’m thirsty,” he grumbles, jutting out his lower lip.

“Then drink.”

“I don’t have any money to buy even a bag of blood. Why do they have to make it so fucking expensive?” He pouts. “I mean, I can always steal one but I’m scared of being caught.”

“Scared of being caught? You, with your superhuman speed and strength?”

“Well, they have those security cameras installed all over the place! I don’t want to get arrested or worse, go viral!” You resist the temptation to roll your eyes at his nonsense. “These fucking technologies, man, I swear to God, they’ll be the death of me someday.”

“Then just go outside. Our town is filled with walking blood bags.”

He groans again, now pressing his forehead against the table. “Man, the effort I have to make just to survive. I’m so done with drinking blood from slutty girls. They’re bitter.” He sticks out his tongue at the memory.

“Yeah, why is that? Why do you only drink from them?”

“Because they’re the only ones who’ll agree in a heartbeat.” His voice is muffled as his lips are brushing against the surface. “Also the sex isn’t too bad if you can ignore how annoyingly loud they are.”

“Trust me, I’ve tried.” You grimace at the flashback. It really has been a while since he brought one of them back to his room and you were ecstatic about it, knowing you were the only girl he had been giving his attention to. “Why don’t you just compel someone to give their blood? You can erase their memories too after you’re done.”

“I’ve told you, I don’t like doing that. It makes me feel like a monster.”

It’s cute, you suppose, the way he tries his best to defy his nature. “Then…” You tap your fingers against the mug, somehow feeling uneasy. “Why don’t you try being in a relationship with someone? I’m sure they’ll be willing to give you their blood if they like you that way.”

“Yeah? With who?”

“I don’t know, like…” Your cheeks grow hot, bringing your face down to hide your eyes behind your bangs. “Maybe just someone you like.”

“Are you volunteering?”

The way he suddenly has you backed against the counter, trapping you inside his arms, and whispers seductively with his lips almost grazing your own make you jump on your feet, your cup slipping off your fingers, crashing to pieces when it hits the marbled floor.

“Careful!” Donghyuck holds you by the waist, stopping you just a split second away from stepping on the broken glasses. You realize your hands are fisting against the back of his shirt, embracing him for support without knowing. You pull away immediately, clearing your throat.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you,” he says, letting you go. “I mean I did, but not like this.”

You sigh. “It’s okay, just step away. I need to clean this up.” He tries to help but you won’t let him, because having him in such proximity is going to blind your senses, unable to function properly. Even just thinking about the way his strong arm fits the curve of your waist already makes you lose focus that you end up cutting your finger with a shard of glass.

He catches the little surprised yelp that escapes your lips and immediately bends down to check on you. “See, this is why I told you to let me clean up instead,” he complains, carrying you to the sink and drenches your finger with running water. “Let me see.” With a hold around your wrist, you can barely do anything but to let him examine your cut thoroughly. “Well, it’s not deep but it’s… still…” 

Noticing how he trails off, you look up to check on his face seeing how his eyes are now glowing a bit brighter, his lips parted as if in awe from the way droplets of blood seep from your fingertip, trickling all the way down to your palm.

“Hyuck…?”

His eyes are drifting back and forth from your face to your cut and you know where this is going but when he brings your palm closer to his lips, his tongue darting out to lick the blood off your skin, you nearly collapse to the floor. 

“Hyuck—” You hiss, cheeks reddening as you try to retract your hand but his hold is firm on your wrist. He licks his way up before he brings your fingertip inside his mouth. Donghyuck has his eyes closed, a moan almost falls from his lip when the coppery taste taints his tongue. He sucks on the wound, wanting to taste more, to rip your skin apart with his teeth and—

“Hyuck!” 

He blinks awake, shocked when he sees your face painted with fear. His fangs are drawn out but he immediately retracts them back before you get a detailed look, his face flushed as he takes a step back.

“S-sorry—” He looks away, rubbing his nape with shaky fingers. “I didn’t mean—shit I really have to go—I have to drink—” and when you blink your eyes, he’s vanished from your sight.

With your heart thundering inside your ribcages, you lean back against the kitchen counter again, your legs trembling under you.

That was close. So fucking close.

There’s a fear growing inside you but it’s not from the memory of him with his fangs extended like the true monster that he was. You’re not scared of him, you’re scared of yourself because you know you want him, you want him in any way possible. You want him to belong to you, to be with you, to be desperate for your touch, your blood, your presence, your everything, just as much as you are about him.

You bury your face in your palms. I am so fucked.

***

Hours turn into days and days turn into months, and before you know it, it has been a year since he moved into your apartment. The friendship that blooms between you feels nice and you want to keep it that way but it’s getting hard when he keeps on bringing random girls in skimpy dresses back to his room. You used to be furious by how loud they were being, but now you’re pretty much angry just simply by imagining him being with someone else. And it doesn’t even have to be sexual—just picturing him bonding with another person, even when it’s not as strong as what you two have, manages to irk you so much.

The thoughts of him keep revolving in your head no matter how hard you try to push them away. It even puts your relationship with Mark in jeopardy, as you can barely pay him any attention. It doesn’t surprise you at all when he decides to break things off, saying something cliche like, “I think we’re better off as friends,” and “It’s not you, it’s me,” which in normal circumstances will piss the hell out of you but when that happens, you simply just reply, “You’re right. Let’s be friends.” And there are no hard feelings—no feelings at all, even, which is weird considering you were only a month away from having your first anniversary with him.

Now that Mark is out of the picture, you can finally bring all of your attention back to Donghyuck. But the more you think about it, the more you’re not sure about the whole thing. He’s a vampire, isn’t he? What future do you expect to have with him? Let’s say you date him and things go well with your relationship, and then what? He’s going to stay young with that cute, boyish look on his face and you’re gonna be all wrinkled and gross, how are you ever going to be able to stand that? What if he wants someone prettier than you? What if he gets bored?

Or maybe it’s just lust you’re feeling. You don’t love him, you’re just physically attracted to him. That’s right. Strictly physical.

And yet, as you see him dressed up in a white buttoned-up shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, running a hand through his hair and pushing back his bangs to showcase his temple, you thought: fuck.

And when he smiles at you, as he places a plate filled with the exact dish he knows you love down to the dining table, saying, “I went ahead and did some research about you. I was about to buy you some presents but I thought it would feel more personal if I cooked something for you so,” and stopping to gaze at you with tender eyes before he adds, “Happy birthday, Sweetheart.” You thought: Jesus fucking Christ, just marry me already.

Donghyuck goes all the way with everything, from placing scented candles on the table, playing soft music in the background, even escorting you to your seat, pulling your chair back for you, and placing down a napkin on your lap. It’s too much for your poor brain to comprehend, and your chest is suffocating from all the feelings swirling behind it and Donghyuck looks so beautiful—almost goddamn ethereal even—in that shirt, in that hairstyle, in the dim light of the room.

“You’re not hungry?” He asks when a few seconds have passed by and you haven’t munched at your food like a caveman—because that’s what you usually do. 

“I’m—you—” You splutter, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves before you try again. “You look nice.”

You can already tell that he’s about to say something along the line of “But baby, I always look nice.” So when he just softly smiles back and thanks you about it, telling how you look just as nice when you know you look like a storm just hit you, you’re pretty much lost for words.

“You seem exhausted,” he comments, frowning in concern. “Hard day at work?”

You can’t trust yourself that you won’t start rambling nonsense again while answering his question so you decide to just reply to him with a timid nod.

“Why are you so nervous?” He laughs, eyes turning crescents. “Your heartbeat is going through the roof again.”

You loathe yourself for being so transparent. “I’m nervous because you’re suddenly being so nice. I can’t help but think you have a hidden agenda or something.” That’s a lie. A complete lie.

And you’re sure he knows it. “And what if I do?” He asks, raising an eyebrow seductively. “What kind of a hidden agenda do you think I have for you?”

Why is it so fucking hot in here?! “I don’t know…” You start fiddling with the fingers you have on your lap. “Drinking my blood, maybe?”

His expression is a mystery to you, even when his smirk seems familiar. “And would you be okay if that’s true?”

You can’t answer but fortunately for you, Donghyuck lets out a chuckle, telling you he was making a lame joke. You force yourself to laugh but it sounds like a wheeze so you stop before it gets even more humiliating.

Donghyuck walks to your side with a bottle of wine in his hands, sliding glass to your side as he says, “Wine, milady? It’s not blood, I swear.” And you believe him because this time, the liquid seems more ruby than crimson.

“You really need to relax,” he comments as he leans his back against the edge of the table, raising the glass of his usual red wine in the air before he clanks it gently against yours. “To the cutest, sweetest roommate in the world.”

You immediately take a sip to hide the blush that creeps up your face, flinching when the burning, mildly bitter flavor hits your tongue. You’ve never drunk any alcohol in your life and although this first experience feels rather unpleasant, you keep chugging more of it down your system. 

“Does it taste good?” He asks, secretly smiling to himself as he witnesses how fast you’re drinking the whole glass down. You shake your head in response, which earns another laugh from him.

You’re not sure whether it’s because it’s your first time drinking alcohol or you just have a low tolerance when it comes to it, but you can feel yourself getting both lightheaded and drowsy. Donghyuck who takes notice of that, move you to the couch so you can rest more comfortably. “I better take this away,” he says, circling his lean fingers around your wine glass but you push him away.

“No,” you say, eyes a little bit unfocused. “I’m fine. Pour me some more.”

“Don’t you think it’s enough?”

“Just another glass, Hyuck, don’t be a bitch about it.”

He’s taken aback but collects his composure within seconds. “All right, just don’t blame me for it,” he states as he pours you another one.

“I have a question for you, Lee Donghyuck,” you coo as he takes a seat on the coffee table, facing you. “Does everyone’s blood taste the same to you?”

“It differs, actually,” he answers, taking a sip of his own drink. “But only faintly. I’m not that picky about it.”

“And how does it feel having your blood sucked by a vampire?”

“You’re asking the wrong guy.” He sways his head from side-to-side in amusement. “I mean, of course, I can have my blood drunk by another vampire but I’m not that kinky. I know some vampires who are into that kind of shit though.”

“Well, by the sound of your girls screaming like they were giving birth, it’s either very painful or very…” The sight of him staring at you intently, taking in your features, nearly throws you off tracks. “Pleasurable.”

There’s an awkward pause and silence hangs around to fill the space before Donghyuck speaks again. “How come you’re asking me these questions?”

“Because that’s all I’ve been thinking about,” you confess, not sure why, but you’re feeling very brave at the moment. “And it’s not just about you drinking my blood, but more about you entirely. You know what I mean?”

Donghyuck places his glass down on the table, leaning towards you. “Not sure, but I’m all ears.”

“I… just…” It’s getting harder to speak when he’s so close, you can start locating every tiny mole he has on his face and his neck. The small one near his Adam’s apple is the one that distracts you the most. “I just think we’re compatible with each other, you know? And I’ve never enjoyed someone’s company this much before. You’re funny, you’re smart, and you’re both endearing and freaking annoying at the same time—how is that possible?”

But Donghyuck isn’t laughing. His eyes are deep and dark, raking over your profiles with so much intensity but when he swats the bangs out of your eyes, his touch is tender. “What else? Tell me more.”

You lean closer to his touch like how a kitten would, making him gulp slightly at the sight. “I get so vexed whenever you spend your time with anyone else. I know I have no right to be jealous since we’re just friends but I can’t help it.” You sigh, rubbing the side of your face with your palm. “It’s so fucking tiring to think about you this much when I can’t have you.”

You’re too lost in your own thoughts that when Donghyuck reaches out a hand to touch your face, you jump in surprise, spilling wine all over your blouse. “Shit, this is my favorite shirt,” you whine, sliding your glass down to the table. “Can you get me some tissues?”

But what he does is lifting your body with both of his arms and carry you to the bathroom. You cling onto him with a yelp, trying to keep yourself away from falling even though you’re sure he’s perfectly able to hold your weight.

Donghyuck places you down on the bathroom counter, your fingers dangling at the edge of your sink. Sitting up straight, you begin to feel conscious of your surroundings. “What are you doing?”

“It’s your favorite shirt, right? We need to wash the stain before it sticks,” He explains, his fingers going to your collar. You nearly stop breathing when he asks for permission to undress you, “May I?”

You swallow hard before you weakly nod.

He takes time unbuttoning your shirt one by one when you know he can rip it apart easily with one finger. He’s so gentle, his touches are paper-thin but whenever his icy fingertips make slight contact with your skin, it sends electricity to every inch of your body. 

When he manages to untangle the clothing from your body, you’re only left in your bra and your black satin lace cami top. You can tell he tries to be polite by not staring at what you’re wearing, and instead immediately drags your blouse to the sink, drenching it with water.

“Where did you place the detergent again?” He asks, reaching up over your head to check on the top cabinet and he’s so fucking close that you can see the movement of his Adam’s apple as he speaks. And it’s really, really tempting to just lean over and—

Donghyuck flinches when he feels you sinking your face in the crook of his neck, mapping your lips on his skin, breathing in his scent. You don’t know how vampires usually smell like but Donghyuck reminds you of summer even when you’re not sure how summer smells like. It’s funny how you’re not making sense, even in your own thoughts.

Pushing you away by the shoulders, Donghyuck’s eyes gleam in the way you’ve never seen before. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I…” You can’t form a word—you can’t even form a thought as you’re too busy staring at his lips, how smooth they look, how thrilling they must feel against your own. And maybe he’s thinking the same thing about yours because when you lean in for a taste, he meets you halfway.

It’s warm and it doesn’t make any sense, because the rest of his body is icy cold but as you press your mouth against his, all you can think about is how his lips are warm and soft, so fucking soft and delightful and maybe it’s just your mind playing tricks on you but you don’t care.

You breathe heavily through your nose, yanking at the collar of his shirt so he’s closer to you than he’s ever been, and you tilt your head slightly, angling your face so you can meld your lips deeper against his. He instinctively reacts by holding the side of your face, fingers slipping between your strands, tips curling around your nape.

He kisses better than any man you’ve ever been with and you’re sure he’s better than any man you’ll ever date in the future because Donghyuck knows what he’s doing, even when he’s caught by surprise. 

Sliding your hand up to his chest, you can tell how his skin stands in contrast to the warmth of his mouth and it makes you shiver, your breathing rags, and you moan into his mouth, tracing your tongue along the puncture of his fang that’s still retracted, almost as normal as a human’s but something inside you tells you it’s not going to stay that long if you continue doing this.

So anticipation builds inside you because there’s absolutely no way you’re going to stop what you’re doing.

But Donghyuck is surprisingly more chivalrous than he looks. He pulls away, giving you a few inches of space to break the attraction. It’s not enough, your mind is still heavily clouded by the thoughts of him, so you reach up to kiss him again, catching his lower lip between yours.

“No, wait,” he says, voice sounding breathy though he doesn’t breathe. He circles his fingers around your wrists, holding them down against the counter so you won’t be able to move. 

“Let me just kiss you,” you plead, eyes dazed and desperate. “Please.”

His chuckles are soft, almost inaudible. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not, I swear.” It’s horribly embarrassing how you’re itching for his touch as if losing physical contact with him causes you madness. “Hold up your fingers and ask me to count them. I’ll guess it right, trust me, so can you just—” You try to move your hand to pull him close but his grip around your wrist is stronger than your strength. “Hyuck—”

“Look, I want this just as much as you do—” He hisses when you’re using your knee this time, sliding it between his legs, giving him the friction that he needs. “Fuck. I probably want this more than you do, but—” He loses control for a split second, re-attaching his mouth to yours with so much fervor, tongues desperate to taste one another. The way you whimper against him makes him groan, his hand sliding down your thigh and spreading your legs apart so he can fit himself between them.

It’s when his fangs suddenly puncture your lips, drawing a hint of blood and making you cry out in surprise that he wakes up from his reverie, pushing himself away immediately to the other side of the room. You almost topple forward from suddenly losing him to lean on but manage to keep your balance by gripping at the edge of the counter.

Donghyuck turns around, facing the bathroom tiles as he leans one hand against the wall while his other one covers his mouth.

“Hyuck—”

“Sorry, let me just—“ His shoulders are shaking, trying his best to calm himself and the thirst that overwhelmed him earlier. “They’ll go back in a minute.”

“No.” You jump down from the counter, moving to his spot with careful steps. “Let me see them.”

He shakes his head, still not turning around to face you.

“I want to see them, Hyuck.” You place your hand on his shoulder, caressing him gently until he finally submits to your touch. 

You only ever saw him with his fangs retracted twice in your life but even then, it was always too dark and too fast for you to see him properly. Now, you can take your time.

He’s so fascinating.

His eyes, as they peer into you in concern and uncertainty that he might hurt you, are glowing brightly in the color of topaz and they’re strikingly beautiful that you can barely look at anywhere else. His fangs are larger but he can still hide them behind his lips if needed. It’s the way they become frighteningly sharp that sends a shiver down your spine but you brave yourself enough to reach out to him.

“C-can I touch…?” You hesitantly ask, and he looks conflicted by the question but soon gives you a timid nod. He parts his mouth slightly so you can trace your fingertip along his cuspid, and you flinch as it feels like a knife splitting your skin. 

He hastily pulls back, terrified at the thought of hurting you. “You’re okay?”

“Do it with me.”

“What?”

You take a deep breath, your heartbeat going crazy. “I want you to drink from me.”

“You’re crazy—”

“Please.” You lay a hand on his chest, tilting your head to the side, exposing your neck to his eyes. “Just try, Hyuck…”

The glimmer in his eyes shows that he’s yearning to fulfill your wish but he cups your cheek again, telling you, “You’re gonna regret this in the morning.”

“I won’t.” Your fingers find a home in his waves. “I’ve been wanting this for a long time so—”

A high-pitched yelp escapes your lips and you have to muffle the rest of your scream by mouthing against the fabric that covers his shoulder because Donghyuck doesn’t waste any second after he heard your confession. His canines are prickling against the skin under your jaw, just between the earlobe and the collarbone. And it hurts when he sinks them—so, so badly—that tears begin to form almost instantly behind your closed lids. Donghyuck suddenly lets you go, his eyes widening as he gazes at the way blood is gushing through his bite mark. “Fuck,” he says, “How can you taste so—” and he dives in again, moaning rather loudly when the warmth of your blood fills his mouth, swallowing a big gulp each time. “So fucking good,” he murmurs in pleasure, tightening his hold desperately around your waist as if you’re the thread that keeps him alive.

The pain only stays for a few seconds before a rush of endorphin seeps into your skin, running through your veins and pumping euphoria to every inch of your body. You slowly relax against his chest, eyes becoming half-lidded as you go into a trance, heartbeat slowing. You’ve never done any methamphetamine in your life but you imagine that it must feel somewhat like this. 

“Hyuck…” You breathe out, feeling a little bit lightheaded, the strap of your camisole falling off your shoulder. You can feel your knees slowly giving out under your weight. “I… I can’t stand…”

He yanks himself away for a second, only to lift you so you can wrap your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck. He carries you back to the counter, placing you down in the same spot as before, your legs dangling in the air.

“Better?” He asks, rubbing comforting circles with his thumb along your cheekbone. You nod, eyes going down to focus on his fangs again. His lips are painted with your blood, with some of it trickling down his chin. He’s a monster and he definitely looks like one, but his eyes are tender and his hands are silky smooth on your skin.

He slides his hand down to the hem of your camisole, fingers rubbing against the fabric as he peppers soft kisses along your jawline. “Is this one your favorite too?”

“Huh?” You’re having the hardest time trying to focus. “Oh… No, not really.”

“Well, then,” his lips are still sucking bruises on your neck when he rips both of your camisole and your bra with one flick of his hand, exposing your bare chest to the air, making you jump in surprise.

“Hyuck—” You’re silenced with another kiss, and it’s so consuming, so deep, so wild that you nearly sob against his mouth. The taste of copper makes you frown in discomfort but the knot starts to loosen when his tongue darts out to meet you in a messy kiss.

His hand is going down to your breast, cupping the side while he runs his thumb along your sensitive bud, making you rake your nails against his back in response. His other hand is tracing the curve of your waist, going down to your hips before he tears your skirt away, tossing the clothing somewhere across the room, following your previous ones.

“Tell me if you want to stop,” he says, hooking his hands at the back of your knees before he pulls your legs forward, pressing his hardness against the wetness of your lingerie. You whine, circling your legs around his waist for stability, and murmurs, “No, don’t stop, please,” against his ear.

It’s not fair that he’s still fully clothed so you frantically toy with the buttons of his shirt, pushing the fabric off his shoulders with so much eagerness before you roam your lips to every inch of his exposed skin. 

Donghyuck licks along the wound of his previous bite, emitting a sinful moan from the back of his throat when your blood sparks ecstasy in his mouth. His fingers are tentatively rubbing you over your lingerie and you beg with your lips muffled by the skin of his chest, “Take it off, just take it off, please—“

You can feel a tiny laugh reverberating from his chest over your desperation but you don’t care. You really are that desperate.

Donghyuck is more than willing to comply, sliding the lingerie down your thighs and you help him push it off your legs completely. You guide his palm to your heat, his fingers immediately sliding between your folds, the heel of his hand pressing against your clit. His mouth finds his way down the valley of your breasts and goes lower and lower until he has his head between your thighs.

You nibble at your lip in anticipation when he presses open-mouthed kisses on the inner part of your thigh. Donghyuck makes sure he has his eyes fixed on yours when he dips his fangs into your supple skin, making you quiver with the sensation.

“God, Hyuck.” You’re going insane, you can feel it. “I want you. I want you in me. I want you all over me.”

And he probably is too because he’s abandoning all of his self-control at once. The way he sucks bruises on your skin, lapping at the trail of blood that painted your body is almost animalistic, raw passion mixed with lust and uncontrollable desire. He unbuckles his belt in hurry, pushing his jeans and boxers down just low enough to release himself from its confines. You can feel his tip grazing against your clit before he glides his length down your folds, pulling you by the legs so you’re almost laying down on the counter, half of your back pressed against the mirror behind you.

His eyes are hooded but they speak reassurance when they bore into yours. “I’ll be gentle.”

Now that it finally sinks you’re going to do this for the first time, your lustful desire gradually changes into jitters. You nod, permitting him to proceed. 

The feeling of him stretching you little by little is absolutely painful and he can tell that too, hissing, “Fuck, you’re so tight,” as his eyebrows adjoin in the middle. You can barely stand the pain and you’re about to stop him by reaching out a hand, but he grabs your wrist and sinks his teeth to your skin.

Another jolt of pain sends tremors all over your body but just like before, another rush of endorphin hits you like a wave, gradually reducing your pain until you’re in haze again, blissful even, but also even more aroused than before, hungry for his touch.

“You’re okay?” He asks, licking the blood that trails down your arm. “Are you still in pain?”

You’re breathing hard but you can feel your heartbeat slowing. “Stop talking and fuck me already.”

His glowing eyes are gazing down at you with desire, intense with lust. He runs his tongue along his lower lip once, smirking as he says, “Yes, Ma’am.”

Even when he said he was going to be gentle with you, he’s doing the exact opposite. Or maybe he is going gentle, which only makes you wonder how wild can he be when he’s not holding back. The thought of him losing control of his mind as he pounds into you senselessly makes you shudder, tightening yourself around his length unconciously.

“My God.” The feeling of your heat enveloping him—squeezing around him—makes him drop his temple on your shoulder, dissolving him into a groaning mess. “You are driving me insane, do you know that?”

“Don’t hold back,” you hold his face, caressing his sharp jawline with trembling fingers. “Just do what you want.”

“But I’ll break you.” Although his eyes seem like he’s about to grant your wish.

 You let your tongue slide up from his chin to his lower lip, stopping just to whisper, “Then break me apart, I don’t care,” before you crush his mouth with yours again.

Donghyuck’s thrust is both deep and hard, knocking your breath with each pound as he holds you by your hips, nails clawing into the skin. Maybe it’s the trace of endorphin left in your body that heightened all your senses while at the same time washing all your pain away because everything feels so unbelievably good. His touches, his kisses, his thrusts, and the way he moves his hips faster and faster until you can’t properly breathe—everything feels amazing. 

And his voice—God, his voice—the way he moans and grunts against your ear, or when he sprouts expletives while he buries his face deep in the crook of your neck, lips scorching against your skin, makes you think fuck why did I waste a fucking year doing nothing when I can have him like—

You’re interrupted from finishing your thought when Donghyuck suddenly pulls out of you, making you whimper from the loss, and turns you around, forcing you to land on your feet again, your stomach pressed against the edge of the counter. You place both hands on the marbled surface as he pulls your hips closer to him, pressing his hardness against your behind as he presses his chest to your spine.

“Come here, look,” he says, holding you by the chin and lifts your face so you can gaze directly into the mirror. He shifts his hand, now holding back your bangs so your eyes are reflected perfectly. “Look how beautiful you are,” he purrs near your ear, the tip of his nose brushing against your jawline.

It’s both embarrassing and arousing to see yourself being held domineeringly by him, the curves of your body fit his perfectly even from behind. Your lips are bruised and swollen, blood smears messily around your neck, your wrist, your thigh even on your hips from the way he trailed his coated fingers along the skin. 

Donghyuck raises two of his blood-smeared fingers to your lips, mixing your lipstick with your own blood before he slowly drags his fingers away, painting blurred lines of crimson to your cheek. He sighs at the sight, eyes half-lidded as they glow brighter. “If I’m a monster,” he says, voice low and breathy, “Then you’re a fucking goddess.”

You shudder and avert your gaze, ashamed of how sultry you look in the mirror and how sinful his gaze is as they rake over your body. He presses close, completing the dip of your spine with his chest like a matching puzzle. His fingers curl around the front of your neck, forcing you to look at your reflection once more as he licks a stripe up your wound. “We look good together, don’t you think?”

You’re breathing hard, chest heaving up and down with each breath. “Hyuck…” You crave for him to fill you again like before. “Please, just—"

He glides his hand down between your legs, teasing you with small touches but strong and fast enough to make you quiver. “So sensitive too,” he chuckles, nipping slightly at your earlobe. “You’re so fucking cute.”

Before you can retort anything back, he pushes the head of his cock into your heat again, agonizingly slowly at first but slams the rest of it with one snap of his hips.

“I’ve thought about this—about us—I think about you a lot,” he confesses, with low groans interrupting his lines. “You’re really driving me insane with that face of yours, your lips, your voice—whenever you call my name, whenever you pout after losing an argument—the way you secretly stare at me wherever I go—”

“I don’t—” You gasp, thighs trembling under your weight and he wraps an arm along your stomach, holding you still while he pushes in deeper. “I never—”

“And the way you lie just like now, with that blush creeping on your face.” He chuckles, kissing the middle of your shoulder blades. “Fuck, you’re so cute—so fucking cute that it pisses me off whenever you talk about Mark when we both know he can’t satisfy you the way I do—he doesn’t understand you— doesn’t get your stupid jokes—” He begins to fall out of rhythm, hips moving faster with each thrust. “He doesn’t deserve you—I deserve you.”

You catch the sight of your reflection, noticing how he sometimes throws his head back in pleasure, his strong hands gripping on the sides of your waist as he rolls his hips again and again, thrusting into you until you can only cry out his name and nothing more. It’s too obscene, too erotic for your eyes to witness, and when he locks his gaze with yours in the mirror, you nearly faint.

“H-Hyuck—” You reach out a hand back, trying to find his for support but he holds your wrist against your spine, pumping into you with strong strokes, leaving you with no options other than pressing the side of your face against the marble countertop, mouth parting in a silent scream.

The sounds of his groans and your whimpers echo through the bathroom walls, along with the sound of your skin meeting his. His teeth prickling against your shoulder, his eyes going to see how you look underneath him in the mirror before he sinks his fangs deep into you, making various sounds of pleasure as he drinks your blood.

The sensation of his thrust, his fingers slightly choking you as he holds you by your neck, and the amount of endorphin that washes over you soon drives you to your release and he embraces you closer, feeling every shake that you emit directly with his body. And maybe it’s from the loss of blood or everything else combined, but your vision starts to blur and suddenly your world turns black.

***

When you wake up, you’re laying on your bed, staring at the ceiling you’ve seen a million times with your eyes barely open. You’re still pretty much in a haze, not sure if you’re still floating inside your dream or back in reality. It’s until your door opens with a click that you can start to differentiate.

“Ah, you’re awake.” He peeks inside through the door holding your favorite mug, already dressed back in his favorite black tee and matching jeans. “I was wondering when you’d wake up. Can I come in?”

He walks in without needing an answer and, weirdly, he doesn’t seem nervous or awkward when the sight of him already makes you blush fervently and your heart races fast. A flashback comes in like an unstoppable train and you almost reach out a hand to your neck, wanting to know if his bite mark is still there. 

The way he acts is so natural that you begin to wonder whether all that happened was simply your imagination. But when you try to move your body, jolts of pain runs like electricity to your bones, making you freeze instantly. It feels like somebody is trying to crack your head open, tearing your body apart and you fall back to the bed, weak and exhausted.

“You all right?” He immediately rushes to your side, sitting on the edge of the bed, checking on your face. “You lost a lot of blood, so I wouldn’t move too much if I were you. I brought you some coconut water, here,” he places the mug down on your nightstand. “And some supplements too. They’ll help with your blood loss. I’ll cook some fish and eggs for dinner later.”

You can only nod, too tired to even speak. His eyes begin to soften, his fingers reaching out to caress the strands of your hair. “I guess I went a bit overboard, I’m sorry.”

“A bit…?” You croak out.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats but can’t help a smile forming on his face. “I tried so hard not to, but you were so cute.”  He leans closer, his lips hovering above yours but he rethinks his decision before he closes the gap, and moves to press a gentle kiss on your forehead instead. “You should get more sleep,” he murmurs against your skin. “Call me when you need help. I’ll be right outside.”

And he doesn’t spare you a glance as he stands up from the bed, but the way he trips on his feet once makes you realize that oh, maybe he’s embarrassed about all this too.

“Hyuck.”

He stops in his tracks, glancing over his shoulder as he lays a hand against your doorframe. “Yeah?”

“Where does this leave us?”

His face slightly goes stern. Turning over to face you, he questions further. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you pause, wetting your lip in anxiety. “Do you want us to pretend it didn’t happen?”

His eyes darken, somehow seem a bit upset. “Do you?”

“I… Uhh…” The way your heart is beating so fast makes you feel nauseous. “I don’t, but—”

“Then don’t suggest something like that,” he sighs, walking back to your bed again. He kneels on the floor so you’re eye-to-eye, squeezing your hand with his larger one. “Don’t scare me, okay? I finally have you where I want you.”

You look away, attempting to hide your flustered face. “But then, what are we now?”

“I don’t care what we are. I just want us to keep doing this.”

“Doing what, sex? You drinking my blood?”

“No, idiot.” He rolls his eyes. “I mean, yes, of course, that too. Plenty of that. But what I meant was I want to continue to have this kind of relationship with you. Us living together, making fun of each other, having dinners together, even spend hours watching re-runs of your stupid tv shows—”

“They’re not stupid.”

“They’re stupid. I only watch them because of you. You are my favorite show.” He winks, breaking the tension and you blurt out laughing, shoving him playfully by the shoulder. But when your giggle starts to fade, Donghyuck leans in to cup your cheek, smiling softly. “I just want to spend more time with you, as long as you’d let me. So can we have that? Please?”

“I…” You’re so captivated by his features, especially the shape of his lips. “I guess…”

“You guess?” He scrunches up his nose. “You’re playing hard to get again? Seriously? After all the begging you did in the bathroom?” Seeing you blush only makes him want to tease you harder. “What was it that you said? God, Hyuck, I want you. I want you in me. I want you all over me—“

“Okay, shut up, geez!” You slap a hand against his mouth, steam practically coming out of your ears. “Yes, we can have that. I’d… love to have that actually.”

Kissing your inner palm, he lovingly smiles against your skin, appreciating your honesty. “That wasn’t so hard, was it, Sweetheart?”

***

Read the sequel here

#I can't believe I actually wrote all my fantasies down in this fic #I can't BELIEVE that it's 16k long so sorry guys but I had SO MUCH FUN writing this that it only took me 3 days??? to finish all of this #so if it's shitty i'm sorry #not sure if i should continue this or leave it as a one-shot thing #this is just FILTH you guys #I'm taking a break for REAL this time I just wanted to give you an early present before the new year starts #HAPPY NEW YEAR YOU GUYS I LOVE YOU ALL #haechan #lee haechan #lee donghyuck #nct #nct 127 #nct u #nct dream #haechan blurbs #haechan smut #haechan fluff #haechan drabbles #haechan timestamps #nct smut #nct fluff #haechan imagines #haechan scenarios #haechan x reader #nct x reader #mark lee x reader #mark lee smut #mark lee #nct imagines #nct scenarios

[hotforharrysheart]

Followers and Fantasies

A/N: Read the full fantasy she wrote by clicking the link within the one shot or by clicking here: Caught

He’s sat in the green room backstage, still got a couple of hours before he’s due on stage. You’d run to the bathroom, your phone on the couch by him. He notices a recent pic of the two of you on your Home Screen and he smiles. Curious, he taps the photos icon and he’s scrolling through your pics.

He taps the album labeled with his name and scrolls through them. You come back in and sit next to him.

“What’re these for?" He asks, smirking.

“Give that back to me!" You say, grabbing for your phone.

He easily switches the phone to his other hand and out of your reach.

"How do you know my passcode?"

“Don’. It was unlocked.”

Your brows furrow. “Give it back.”

“In a minute. Answer my question.” He's scrolling. “You've got a lot of pics of

me on here, love. Ya running a tumblr blog for me or summat?” He’s enjoying this immensely.

A panicked look crosses your face.

“Is it on this phone?”

You’re trying hard to compose your face but failing miserably. All he has to do is click the icon and he’d see everything. You sigh. “Harry…”

“Wait…Do ya have a tumblr?" His eyebrows go up. He’d only been teasing. He didn’t expect you to actually say yes.

You shrug. “It’s old.”

“So ya do have a tumblr…about me.” His eyes are sparkling with amusement whereas yours are filled with dread.

“I…uh…well, yes.” You sigh. He’s enjoying this way too much.

"How old?"

You look anywhere but at him. “I started it in 2013. But you were so young and I was graduating college. I felt bad.”

“Ya robbin' the cradle right?”

“Thin ice, Harry, thin ice.”

He chuckles. “Believe me, love. I was old enough.”

“Oh yeah, what would you have done with me then?"

He smirks. “What wouldn't I have done with ya, love?”

You ignore the butterflies in your tummy from his comment. “You’re such a menace! You weren’t ever supposed to know about this!”

He smirks. “Shouldn’t keep secrets from me, ya know.” His brow furrows in thought. “There’s a lotta fan fic on tumblr, right? Did ya write something about me?"

Your eyes open wide in terror and all the color drains from your face. “No,” you reply, but there’s no conviction behind your words.

“Oh my god! You’ve written stuff about me! I wanna read it! Show me!”

You’re trying to come up with an excuse - any excuse - to get out of this but nothing is coming. Where is everyone? Normally you can’t get two seconds alone before a show and now when you really need it, there’s no one around! You sigh in defeat. “You’re never gonna let this go are you?”

Nodding his head up and down quickly, he says, “Noooo.”

“Arrogant, much?"

“I mean.…ya have a tumblr page dedicated to me. Earned it, didn't I?”

You grin and look down.

He leans in close to your ear, “Show me what you wrote,” he says in his most seductive voice.

You shiver and bring your hand to your mouth to bite your cuticles.

He gently pulls your hand away. “Please, love. I really do want to see your writing. Bet it’s brilliant.”

“I guess. If you really want to see it.”

He’s off of the couch and on his knees right in front of you, hands going to your hips, eyes boring into yours. “Read it to me.”

"I…ummm....like outloud?!”

He nods. “Wanna know what you fantasized about.”

You look around. “I can't.”

“Ya can.”

“Not here.”

“Where? Nevermind…follow me.” He grabs your hand and practically drags you to his dressing room. He locks the door and moves to sit in one of two chairs.

You move to sit in the one next to him..

“Nope. You’re sitting’ here,” he says, patting his lap.

You blush and curl up across his lap, holding out your hand. “Gimme my phone.”

“Read to me. Tell me what you wanted me to do.”

“Just one,” you whisper.

He gulps. "Ya have more than one?”

You tilt your head back, blushing. “I have a lot. I can’t believe I’m doing this. You weren't supposed to ever find out.”

He kisses your temple. “Don' be shy.”

“Ok, so I have a master list. You wanna pick one with me?"

“A master list...like a table of contents?"

You’d forgotten that he wouldn’t know tumblr jargon. “Umm yeah.” Fingers shaking, you open the app. “I can't believe I'm doing this.

“Your blog is called Strawberry Lipstick State of Mind?” He smirks. “You've been on this recently.”

You sigh and cover your face with your phone

and your hands. “Yes.”

“So, ya like that picture of me?”

You gulp. “A lot.”

“Does it…” he gulps. “Does it make ya wet?”

“It always has. You look so lost in the music and I love that.” You cup his cheek.

His eyes go back to your phone. “So many on your list! Why do some of these have the flame emoji?”

You hide your face in his neck. “Because they contain smut.”

“So many with flames.”

“Shut up!" But you giggle.

“Read one of those.”

“How about i just give you the phone and you can read it.”

“No…want your words.”

“So really…like outloud?"

"Yes.” He nuzzles his nose into your neck. “Read it. I'll do whatever ya wrote,” he purrs, placing his hand on the inside of your thigh. “I'll make your fantasy come true, baby.”

“I wrote something about your dressing room as a matter of fact.”

“When’d ya write it?”

“After I saw you sing Woman in Nashville."

“We were friends then.”

You shrug. “Doesn't mean I didn't want you.”

He lets out a long breath. “Did ya pick one?”

“Yeah. This is called Caught.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. As you read your fantasy to him you're blushing furiously but you’re also very aware of his body and how close he is.

He goes from smirking to gulping. He stops you. “Ya liked that vest?"

You nod.

He’s surprised, turned on, proud all at once, pressing a kiss under your ear. “From behind…”

“Oh the mirror huh?” “We take that mirror to every show, ya know.”

You get to the end and you drop your phone on the table.

“How'd you feel when you were writing it?"

“Harry, I'm dying here.”

“Well, I'm fucking hard as a rock, so tell me…How.Did.Ya.Feel.When.You.Wrote.It.?” His hand slides under your T shirt.

“Turned on. Wet. Wanted you.”

“Did it make your nipples hard?”

“Yes.”

“Did ya think bout me touching them?”

“Yes.”

“You were at that show…sat with my sister…”

“Jesus Harry, don't bring it up like that! I…you don't know what you do to me when you're on stage, ok? And that outfit was so sexy. The whole arena went nuts when they saw you.”

“Were you wet when you listening to me sing?” His lips caressing your ear.

You nod.

“Sittin’ next to my sister…soaked because of me?”

“Mmmm…yes,” you say breathily, remembering how turned on you were that night and how it was awkward to be around Gemma. Nothing got past Gem, though. She knew. Probably before then, but definitely after that.

“Did you write this after the show, that night?"

“Yes. We were just friends...I felt like there was no way you'd want me that way. This was my outlet.”

He lets out a long breath and brushes the hair out of your face. “How’d did I miss so much?”

“I didn't say anything to you either. I mean, look at you…Could, no can, have anyone you want. I didn't think 'us' would ever happen. I was just this older uni nerd friend of Gem’s.”

“You’re not tha’ much older. Thought ya were cute and funny. I guess I thought…ya wouldn’t be interested. So, friends worked too.” He kisses your neck. “I always hoped for more, though.”

“Really?”

“Mmmm…Will you read more of these to me

later?"

“If you want…Does it creep you out? That I was fan girling over you secretly?”

“No, baby. It's maybe the hottest thing I ever heard.”

“Really?"

“God, yes…And to hear you read it to me...holy

shit that was hot.”

You fiddle with the buttons on his shirt.

“Look over there.”

"What?"

“Can ya see us in the mirror?”

You bury your face in his neck, but can't resist peeking over.

“See us?”

You nod.

“Up with your arms.” He pulls the T shirt over your head.

“Ohhh…your hands are cold, H.”

They go to your tits and cup them. “Feel good?”

You gasp as his cold fingers pull your

nipples. “Kiss them.”

His lips kiss both nipples and then he suctions on to one, teeth biting just hard enough. “Ahhhh! I can't believe I'm here with you,” you tell him, as you unbutton his shirt.

“I can't believe I didn't know ya wanted me.”

“I used to dream about these swallows, you know.”

“Up, babe. Let's get these jeans off.”

“Did you lock the door?"

“Blue.”

“What?"

“These panties.”

You smile. “So did you? Lock the door?”

“I think so. Can ya check?”

You kick your shoes and pants off and walk

with some extra sway to make sure the door is locked. “Locked.”

He beckons you back over to him with a come hither gesture and pulls you to stand in front of the mirror.

Your body breaks out in goosebumps.

“Wan’ me to fuck you in front of this mirror?

You nod, watching him kick his shoes and shuck his jeans. Standing in only white athletic socks, he steps up behind you and your eyes meet in the mirror. He wraps his hands around you to cup your tits. “God, how I love these.”

You lick your lips.

“What’d I say to you in your story love?”

“You…You said to place my hands on the mirror.”

“Do it. What else?”

“You said It's gonna be quiet and fast because you needed to get on stage.”

Mouth next to your ear: “How many times did ya read that little scene, hmmm?” Hand sliding down your body to cup you.

“Mmmm…”

“How many times?” His fingers move to circle your clit

“Ahhhhh…a lot.”

“Did ya ever touch yourself?” He asks, fingers moving faster.

“Mmm hmmmm!"

"Did ya cum?"

“Mmmm…fuck yes!”

“Did ya wish it were me fucking you?”

You whisper, “every time. I could see it in my mind. I…I could feel it.”

His fingers slow down. “Yeah? Did it feel this good?”

“No, never.”

“Did you touch yourself in my house?”

You look down.

“Look at me. Did you touch yourself in my house thinking about your stories? In my guest bedroom? When you used my shower?"

"I tried not to.”

“But you did?”

“Yes! Does that freak you out?"

His nostrils flair. “No, love. I'm just picturing you touching yourself in my guest bedroom and I didn't know. On my sheets.”

You eyes meet his in the mirror.

“Your cum on my sheets.”

“Mmmm…”

“So this pussy has been mine for a while now.”

“Yes!”

He has one arm crossing your body and the other between your legs, kissing your neck. “Why didn't you say anything?"

“We were friends. Didn't think you saw me like that.”

“Now we're lovers.”

Your pussy clenches. “Yes.”

“Can have you whenever I want ya.”

“Mmmm…”

“Ya can have me whenever ya want me,” he rasps, hips rutting against your bum.

Your hands had fallen off of the mirror at some point.

His fingers move from your clit and place your hands back on the mirror. Then they skate down your arms and your spine watching the

goosebumps rise on your skin. He gently bends you over.

Your eyes flutter closed.

“No, eyes on me. Baby, I love your writing. Maybe we can write some stuff

together…Maybe there's some things in your

writing that I can write a song about…”

You gasp.

“Think about our fantasies on your tumblr page.”

“Harry...”

“I'm gonna fuck you now,” kissing your neck, “and your followers will never know…”

“Jesus H!”

“Does that turn you on? Touch yourself.”

Your fingers rub along your pussy, collecting your wetness.

“Show me.” He takes your hand to his mouth and licks between your fingers. “Ya taste so good.”

You moan out and he places your hand

back on the mirror. You mumble under your breath "I can’t believe this.”

He slides into your warm cunt. “Believe it, love,” he says, smirking.

#followers and fantasies #harry smut #harry styles smut #original content #harry styles fanfiction #friends to lovers

[possiamo-andare]

Just You (3)

JJ x Reader x Rafe (love triangle)

MASTERLIST

word count: 5k

a/n: I can't believe it's been eight months since I updated this fic. y'all are probably dead by now and this will prolly get no notes lmao but I finally wrote the next chapter and it's so good in my opinion so please don't be too mad. enjoy!

~

Y/N needed complete silence when she was reading. If she didn’t, it was almost impossible for her to even read one page. As a child, in a room full of other screaming children, Y/N found it almost impossible to read. Most of her teachers misread this difficulty with an inability to read, which was not the case. This miscommunication actually worked in Y/N’s favour because the extra attention resulted in a greater love for reading. Y/N soon found herself reading everyday and even found it hard to put down a book. When she couldn’t get a physical copy of a book, she then went online and delved into a world where people created their own worlds and fantasies for their readers. Reading had become one of Y/N’s favourite hobbies and she could do it for hours.

Unfortunately, tonight was different. At around 6pm, just as Y/N picked up a book to read, loud music began to play from a distance. At first, Y/N tried to ignore it but soon, like mentioned before, the music began to get louder, and Y/N could not focus on the words before her. The more she tried to focus, the more distracted she became by the music. Soon, she could focus on nothing but the blaring music coming from across the street. Finally, after ten minutes of pure agony, Y/N got up from her bed and stormed down the stairs of her home. Her face is red with anger, and she desperately wants to know who the hell thinks playing loud music on a Tuesday night is acceptable. Unfortunately, she knows the answer the second she enters her kitchen.

Her parents are laughing with each other as they make their favourite snack. Every night, her parents make their favourite foods together as a way to unwind and talk about their day. Sometimes they shared it with Y/N and her siblings but on nights where her siblings were out with their friends and Y/N was the only one home, they usually just spent time with each other. Y/N hesitated for a moment and smiled to herself, thinking about how sweet her parents truly are. She wonders if the person she marries will have this type of relationship with her. She wonders, years from now, how she will look back on her time in OBX. She hopes she looks back with fondness. The moment is ruined though because her mother quickly looks up from the stove, a toothy grin on her face.

“Hello darling.” Y/N’s mother chirps. She reads her daughter's distraught face and since she can hear the music too, she knows why her daughter is upset. Without even letting Y/N speak, she answers the question clearly in her daughter's mind. “Ward Cameron’s son, Rafe, is throwing a party across the street. You can go if you want.”

Y/N snorts. “That boy has been rudely staring at me since we got here, and you think I should go to his house?”

This time, Y/N’s father turns around from the cabinet. “I hear JJ’s gonna be there.” There’s a small smirk on his face and it instantly grabs Y/N’s attention.

She tried to brush it off. “Well, I don’t really like loud music.”

Y/N’s mother scoffs. “Yes, you do.”

Y/N nods, tucking her hair behind her ears. She knows that if there’s even a hint of JJ being at the party, she wants to go. “You’re right, I do.”

Y/N had not been to a party in years. The last time she had it was in her first year of high school. She had just moved to that new school only weeks before and had made only a couple of friends. The friends she did make were nice and invited her to a party. The party was okay, and she enjoyed herself, but she was very awkward because she barely knew anyone. She promised that from now on, she would only go to parties where she knew more than one person. Now, she found herself breaking that rule just to see JJ.

Since Y/N was in her pajamas, she ran back up to her room to change. She didn’t want to waste too much time picking out clothes to wear so she quickly looked through her closet and found a white sundress with small blue flowers decorating the material. She had never worn this dress and, when she first bought it, was unsure if she liked it because it was shorter than what she was used to but now, she was glad she did.

She lay her sundress on her bed for a moment and turned to her mirror, where she kept a cabinet full of makeup. Before she even put on any makeup, she looked back up in the mirror for the second time. As she finally had a chance to breathe, she realized her breath was unsteady and her hands were shaking. It was hard for Y/N to put herself out there. Most times, she was afraid of the rejection, or even at the fact that the friends she did have would be gone. But she remembered her parents' words. She was to stay in OBX for the rest of the year. She would make friends here. She would have a life here. With a deep breath, Y/N began to get ready for the night.

~

Y/N keeps fidgeting with her hair. She knows the more she fidgets, the more upset she’ll be with how she looks but she seriously can’t help it. She only does this when she’s extremely nervous and she knows why. She’s two feet away from Rafe’s front door and the music has somehow gotten louder. It’s almost as if he’s continuously trying to play the music louder to get her attention. Of course, she knows that to not be true, but still, Y/N had realized that in the last twenty minutes since she had decided to get ready for the party and walked across the street, the music had indeed gotten louder. She rolled her eyes as she approached the door, the loud music getting annoying. At this rate, Rafe Cameron would be deaf by the time he was 30. Y/N pretended not to care if he went deaf at all, but a tiny voice inside her head told her that she had to care for him because no one else would.

With a deep breath, she knocks on the door. She doesn’t think anyone would hear it because of how loud the music is but it’s worth a try. She was raised to have manners and would not just enter someone’s house before knocking.

To her surprise, only a few moments later, the doorknob twisted quickly and someone on the other end of the door opened it. It was as if someone had been patiently waiting by the door all night, opening it in hopes that she would come. Of course, she knew this to not be true because the person who greeted her was none other than Rafe Cameron. And he found her annoying.

Y/N couldn’t help but admit how delicious he looked. He wasn’t dressed in his usual preppy attire, no. He wore these ripped, distressed black jeans and a fitted white shirt with a baseball cap to match. It wasn’t necessarily his style that had him looking so delightful but his face. He seemed very relaxed. In fact, this was the most relaxed she’d ever seen him. His usual straight posture was now more curled and casual. His face, which had always been pale and gray, was now filled with colour. He wore a cute blush across his cheeks and nose, and on top of the blush was a patch of light brown freckles here and there. Y/N figured he must’ve been in the sun all day. That and he was also high out of his mind.

“Y/N…” He trailed, his eyes glancing at her dress momentarily before returning to her face. Y/N feels a little self conscious under his gaze. She wasn’t exactly confident in her outfit tonight and he seemed, for the first time in forever, more confident than her. “You, um, you’re - you’re very…”

She involuntarily snickers, not realizing she’s doing it until Rafe hears it. His face changes into a dark frown and she has a deep need to apologize. He was probably just trying to be polite, and Y/N must’ve caught him just as his high was reaching its climax. “I’m what exactly?”

Rafe rolls his eyes, knowing that she’s teasing him. “You’re not invited.”

Well, she can’t say she exactly feels welcome right now, standing at the threshold of his door. He still hasn’t even let her in.

Y/N scoffs, her feelings only hurt a little. Although he didn’t look preppy, he looked just as douchy. “Well, your music’s so loud it could wake the dead. Maybe if you didn’t want uninvited people to come, don’t make it so obvious that you’re having a party.”

Rafe scoffs this time. “Aw, I’m sorry. Did I interrupt your bedtime?” He takes a swig of his beer bottle and Y/N almost forgets that he’s obviously been drinking. “Were you having a little read before you went to bed? Lemme guess; you were re-reading the Vagina Diaries for the tenth time?”

Y/N’s chest twinges with pain just a little, knowing that the book was on her bookshelf with a worn-out spine. He seemed to know her very well, but it only angered her because he got the answer right. “It’s actually Vagina Monologues, but nice try. I guess for someone who hasn’t opened a book in their life, the Vagina Monologues would be interesting.”

Rafe chuckles and she has a small urge to kiss the corners of his smile. Thankfully, once she swallows harshly, the urge disappears. “Just come in and don’t put your hippie feet anywhere near my furniture.” He finally steps aside, and Y/N takes that as the kindest invitation she’s gonna get from him.

“You mean, your parents' furniture.” She puts one foot in front of the other and tries to remember how to walk. Although it may not seem like it, she’s nervous. She’s not too good with crowds. As she passes Rafe, she can smell his cologne and she feel as though she might faint. For such an annoying boy, he really was intoxicating.

Rafe is not given enough time to throw a snide remark back in her face because someone has entered Y/N and Rafe’s little bubble. It’s another very handsome boy but this time, he’s sweet. He’s wearing preppy clothes (cargo shorts and a pink polo shirt - big shocker there) but he’s not preppy at all when he introduces himself.

“Hey! I’m Kelso; nice to meet ya!” He gives Y/N a half hug because his other hand is holding a beer, but she still gets the sentiment that he’s friendly. His hand respectfully lays on Y/N’s shoulder and Y/N actually hugs him back even though that’s not her thing with strangers.

“I’m Y/N, and it’s nice to meet you too!”

She watches as his brows go from a relaxed arch to a surprised arch instantly. It seems that whatever she has said has caught him by surprise. “Oh? You’re Y/N?” Kelso looks to Rafe for a moment, his eyes narrowing in amusement. Rafe tries to indirectly tell him to stop by flipping him off, but it only encourages Kelso. “I guess we have you to thank for this incredible party then!”

Y/N frowns, turning around to look at Rafe. They’re still in the entryway of his house and she hasn’t so much as taken in her surroundings, but this seems too important to ignore. What does Kelso mean? Did Rafe throw this party in hopes that she’d come? There was no way. Doesn’t Rafe find her completely annoying and obnoxious? If so, why would Kelso say such a thing?

“He’s joking right?” Y/N tries to confirm from Rafe but by his meek smile and his cheeks that have only gotten redder since she entered his home, she knows there’s some truth in what Kelso is saying.

Rafe shrugs, trying to come up with a lie. He had confided in Kelso as a way to relieve the stress that liking Y/N has caused but instead, Kelso just had to mess it up. “Well, not exactly.” His mouth is forming a lie before his brain can even properly think of one. “I mentioned to Kelso that you’ve probably never been to a party in OBX, so he must’ve thought I threw it for you.”

Y/N nods, confused as to why she feels a little sad. For some reason, a little part of her hoped that Rafe had thrown a party for her to notice him but alas, it had all been a misunderstanding. “Oh, well, okay.”

Except it wasn’t a misunderstanding at all. Rafe had told Kelso that the only reason he was throwing this party was for Y/N to notice him in a new light. He knew she thought he was just another annoying preppy Kook and he wanted to change that. He thought maybe, just maybe, if she had fun tonight with him, she’d finally start to see him as he truly was, a loveable dork. Unfortunately, that seems to be ruined now.

Before any more words can be exchanged, someone yells for Y/N. She instantly looks to the crowd of people in Rafe's backyard and sees JJ and Pope. The door to his backyard is open so the yelling is clear and not muddled by a barrier. They seemed to have been yelling for a while because they looked exasperated. Y/N watches as JJ stands from his lawn chair and motions for her to come sit beside them. She smiles for one of the first times tonight and nods, the pressure on her chest lifting when she sees her two friends. She wanted to take to Rafe later and get the full story because she had a feeling, he wasn’t telling her the complete truth, but she wanted to greet her friends first. She’d get to Rafe later. For now, she wanted to relax.

When Y/N departed from Rafe and Kelso, awkwardly waving goodbye before maneuvering to the back of Rafe’s house, Kelso spoke first.

“Dude, why didn’t you tell me she didn’t know this party was for her?”

Rafe glared at his friend. “You really think I’d tell her that. Now she probably thinks I’m even more creepy than before.”

Kelso rolls his eyes at how dramatic his friend was. “You didn’t see her reaction, bro. I don’t know if she even knows it herself, but she definitely likes you.”

Rafe rolls his eyes. He doesn’t allow for his hope to rise because he knows it’s not true. He can’t let himself have any more hope that the new girl in OBX would want to have anything to do with him. She can’t like him because no girl like her ever has. So, instead, he steals glances at her for the rest of the night and hopes to God he can get high enough to forget about the beautiful girl across the street.

~

Y/N tried to enjoy herself, she really did. And to JJ’s credit, he tried to help her relax and have some fun. She drank the beer that was offered to her, danced with JJ and Pope, and even took two puffs of JJ’s joint. But, although she felt thoroughly buzzed, Rafe never left her mind. She tried to throw a few sneaky glances his way the entire night, but she couldn’t find him. She even left her spot beside JJ and pretended to get a refill on his nasty beer just to see if she could spot Rafe. Unfortunately, he was nowhere to be seen. At first, she thought it was just because she wasn’t looking hard enough but soon, after three whole hours of not seeing Rafe even once, she realized he was avoiding her. And if he was avoiding her, it meant that he was embarrassed from their conversation at the beginning of the night. Which meant that he lied, and he had in fact thrown this party just for her.

This revelation crept into her mind slowly throughout the night but when it finally sunk in, she was speechless. She didn’t know how to react. Sure, there was a slim chance that he had been telling the truth but the less she saw of Rafe at his own party, the more she realized that he had lied to her.

JJ had noticed how off Y/N seemed. When they had seen each other earlier in the day for her surfing lessons, he had made a fool out of himself. They had been practising for a few hours before they both called it quits, deciding to pick it back up the next day. Before departing, JJ offered her ice cream for a hard day's work, and she gladly accepted. They both ordered the same flavour (mint chocolate chip - he swore they were soulmates because of this) and ate it as they talked. When they were both finally finished, Y/N went to hug him goodbye, but he instead extended his hand awkwardly for her to shake. She seemed slightly embarrassed, but he was even more so. He had wanted to hug her but didn’t want to without her permission, so he thought a handshake was the safe bet. Unfortunately, he thought wrong and now, that awkward interaction was burned into the back of his mind. He was worried that’s why Y/N seemed so detached, barely speaking. When she had gone to refill her cup, JJ looked to Pope for advice. He had never been so needy for a girl’s approval before and since Pope seemed to want everyone to like him, JJ thought he’d give the best advice.

“So,” JJ sighs and he finishes telling the story of their awkward interaction. “Do you think that’s why she’s been so quiet?”

Pope snorted. “JJ, I think it’s just you. I doubt she even remembers it.”

Although his friend tried his best to reassure JJ, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was burdening Y/N’s mind. But, before JJ could continue his conversation with Pope, Y/N reappeared with a glass full of beer and a somber face. The topic was not brought up again.

JJ had been right though. Something was burdening Y/N’s mind. It’s not everyday that a girl finds out a boy who she thought saw her as a bothersome girl actually saw her as much more. It’s a difficult experience to relate to and not a problem Y/N thought she would have. Apparently, Rafe was better at hiding his true feelings than she thought. She had always assumed that when she’d catch him peeking through his window, watching her ride her bike with her brothers or bask in the sun as she read another book, he was judging her. She assumed he was making fun of her and her hippie family. And when they had first met in the main office of her school, it only solidified in her mind that he saw her as a joke. But instead, he might’ve actually liked her. You clearly only watch people in that way if you hate them or like them and since it clearly wasn’t hate…

No. She wouldn’t let her mind go there. Besides, even if he liked her, who was to say if she even liked him? He had been nothing but rude to her, even when he had technically invited her to this party. He called her a hippie (not offensive by itself but when Rafe said it, it might as well have been), watched her from his window with a scowl, and was a complete snob. If Y/N knew what was good for her, she’d stay far, far away from Rafe and anyone he associated with. But Y/N was a dumb teenage girl and curiosity got the better of her. She needed to find another good excuse to go inside and search one last time for Rafe.

The excuse presented itself when JJ made a small remark of how thirsty he was. Y/N jumped at the opportunity to refill his drink, even though he offered to go himself. But she insisted, taking his cup from his hands before he could argue any longer. As she made her way back inside, her eyes looking for the handsome brunette, Pope leaned closer to JJ.

“See? And you thought she didn’t like you?”

JJ nodded, feeling better about the whole ordeal. Unfortunately, if he knew why she truly had wanted to venture inside, it’s doubtful he would have felt better. He probably would’ve felt worse. But he didn’t know, and he wouldn’t know for a while longer.

Y/N first made her way to Rafe’s huge kitchen where all the kegs were lined up. Half of them were already empty but the night was coming to a close and soon, half the party would leave and only Rafe’s closest friends would stick around until 5am. It was midnight now and although she didn’t have a curfew, she wanted to be home by at least 1am. So, as she filled only JJ’s cup, she decided against filling her own. She didn’t want to be too tipsy in case she ran into Rafe. Although, by this time, she thought it was very unlikely that she’d ever see him.

Just as that thought crossed her mind though, another person entered the kitchen. Y/N recognized him immediately. It was Topper. They had never interacted much, just a brief wave whenever she’d pass his house when she rode her bike. If he was outside, which he had only been once or twice, he’d wave, and she’d wave back. Other than that, they never spoke. Until now.

He stood beside her, filling two glasses with beer. His blond hair was wet and sticking to his forehead, but his hands were so full, and he was so drunk he didn’t seem to notice. Y/N had seen Rafe’s pool, but she did not find herself on that side of his house for many reasons (the pool was on the other side of the backyard, she didn’t bring a bathing suit, and her mind was busy with more important matters). Topper seemed to be struggling with refilling two cups, his hands shaking just a little. Y/N instantly registered that he needed help and decided that busying herself with assisting Topper would help take her mind off Rafe.

“Here,” Y/N offered, setting JJ’s cup down on the counter. “Let me help.” She takes one of the glasses from Topper and begins to fill it up, all the while keeping an eye on Topper to make sure he doesn’t spill the other cup.

“Thanks.” He mumbles, swaying back and forth to the music that is blaring from somewhere inside Rafe’s house. Y/N can’t help but smile a little at this giddy boy who would otherwise be embarrassed for acting so weird if he was not so drunk.

Unfortunately, not even helping Topper can keep Y/N’s mind off Rafe. She wonders that since Rafe must’ve told Kelso something about her, Rafe could’ve confided in Topper too. From the gossip that JJ had told her, Topper used to date Sarah but even after they broke up, Rafe and Topper remained friends. So maybe, just maybe, Rafe had said something to Topper about her? She figured even if she asked Topper, it would never get back to Rafe. Topper was clearly drunk and would not remember the conversation he had with Y/N. No harm, no foul. Right?

Unfortunately, that idea was quickly squashed because just as she began to open her mouth, someone else entered the room. It was Rafe.

Rafe had skillfully avoided Y/N all night, while still stealing glancing her way. He never noticed that she too had been looking for him. He was so nervous that he’d eventually bump into her that he would make Kelso check every room before he entered it. Unfortunately, Kelso was drunk by midnight and could no longer help Rafe. Rafe tried to let it go, figuring you were probably gone by now. So, he asked Topper to refill his cup as he helped Kelso into his mom’s car. But, when Topper still hadn’t returned by the time Rafe entered his home, he thought there was no harm in checking up on him. Apparently, there was a lot of harm in that.

And now, there they stood, facing each other for the first time since the beginning of the night. Rafe wanted to turn back around and leave but he had always made a fool of himself, and he knew that if he awkwardly left without acknowledging Y/N, she’d surely think even lower of him. So, as soon as their eyes made contact, Rafe awkwardly raised his hand and waved. He could feel the awkward smile painted across his face and Y/N seemed to mimic him.

“Hey.” He squeaked out, taking both cups from Topper before speaking to his friend. He figured the less he looked at Y/N, the less awkward he would feel. He was wrong. “Top, why don’t you lie down on the couch. I’ll bring the beers soon.”

Topper only nodded, slowly making his way out of the kitchen, leaving his friend and Y/N in there alone. Alone for the first time since the beginning of the night. Both their pairs of eyes were trained on their drinks; Y/N was clutching onto JJ’s and Rafe held one for him and one for Topper. No one spoke for a while. Y/N had waited all night to get Rafe alone, just so they could talk and now she didn’t know what to say. She awkwardly shifted the weight in her feet, unable to think of the first thing she wanted to say. They were only five feet apart, but they might as well have been worlds away.

Rafe was in agony and decided to get it over with. He spoke first. “So, are you enjoying the party?” He spoke so formally, as if he was chatting with his grandmother, but he was too uncomfortable to speak any other way.

Y/N nodded, relieved he had taken the first leap forward. “Um, yeah. Never knew that kids could throw parties like this.”

Rafe smiled for a moment, happy that she was so amazed at his dullest party of the year. His heart fluttered at the thought of Y/N dancing in that beautiful white dress with him. Holding onto him as they swayed to the music, pulling her close. Close enough to -

“So, Rafe, I wanted to talk about earlier.” Y/N began, playing with the skin around her nails. It was a nervous tick she had yet to get rid of.

Those eight words destroyed Rafe. At that moment, he knew she had not believed his original lie. He wasn’t too surprised though. He was a shitty liar and Y/N seemed to pick on everything he did. Although he would rather rip his fingernails off one by one than have this uncomfortable conversation with Y/N, he knew he’d have to give her the answers she was looking for. Even if that meant embarrassing himself.

Finally, he nodded. “Um, uh, okay. What’s up?”

Y/N began to speak but before she could get a coherent sentence out, someone else entered the kitchen, making a bunch of noise as he did. Their eyes met instantly and when she recognized who he was, her back straightened slightly as if she had been caught in a salacious act. It was JJ.

“Y/N, what's taking so long?” He stops just after he enters the kitchen and as soon as his eyes go to Rafe, his smile drops. He’s confused beyond belief. He doesn’t know why Y/N is speaking to Rafe. He didn’t even know they knew each other. “Uh, am I interrupting something?”

Y/N forces a smile, glancing at Rafe briefly before walking past him and towards JJ. She hands JJ his cup and he gladly takes it, a look of pure confusion written on his face. “No, Rafe was just asking me if I am enjoying my first party in Outer Banks.”

JJ's eyes shift to Rafe, whose face is pure white. “Really? How… kind?”

Y/N knows JJ is suspicious so to curve his focus back on her, she reaches up to cup one side of his face. JJ’s eyes instantly fall back onto her, a small smile back on his lips. “Walk me home, JJ. I’m getting tired.”

JJ nods sweetly, placing his hand over the one that’s cupping his cheek. “Sure. Go get your stuff and I’ll meet you at the front of the house.”

Y/N looks back to Rafe one more time, a small smile on her face. Rafe pushes his lips into a thin line, nodding goodbye to her. She does the same, leaving the kitchen as quietly as she entered. Y/N’s afraid to leave JJ and Rafe alone but she really has no reason to stay any longer. She hopes that she can get Rafe alone soon so they can have an actual conversation. Tonight, was kind of a disaster but being with JJ and having such a fun time with him made up for it. She knows JJ is the type of guy she should be with. He’s fun and carefree and they’re too much alike to not get along. Even though this is all true and she does have feelings for JJ, there is a part of her that yearns for Rafe. And that part scares her.

Once Y/N is gone, JJ’s smile drops, and he turns back to Rafe with a menacing glare. “Look, I don’t know what your game is here, but I really like Y/N. We both know you’re not her type. So do both of us a favour and leave her alone.”

And with that, JJ was gone too. Leaving Rafe alone.

Even with all these people in his house, Rafe never felt more alone.

~

taglist: @tovvaa @canyoubuymetoast @multisimpinghoe (sorry to these queens for waiting so long lmaooo)

#jj maybank #rafe cameron #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fic #rafe x reader #jj x you #jj one shot #jj fanfiction #rafe fluff #rafe x you #rafe imagine #rafe cameron obx #outerbanks #outer banks fic #obx #obx s2

[janiedean]

1) So, lately I've been seeing all these Takes about how most m/m smut is from the bottom's POV bc most writers are female bottoms and they identify with him (which, okay, guess I'll never be free from THAT oversemplification), how most ppl in fandom just pretend to like femdom bc it's the most "progressive" option, if you ship any m/f you're forced to make it a girlboss/malewife deal to be woke, ppl only "like" pegging as a statement and that's going to make men irl feel pressured to try it...

2) And on the one hand I'm just so... bitter about it. My first experiences with m/f smut were "not explicitly maledom but the guy takes the initiave and the reins and does p much everything and the girl sorts of lies there with a vague sub streak" or actual maledom. And I kept wondering "okay, but can the girl like... do the fun stuff, too? Like pin the guy down and kiss and bite his neck a bit, or play with his nipples, and be kinda the one in charge?" And I was so afraid the answer was no. 3) And that's one of the (many) reasons I read way more m/m than m/f. I wasn't interested in f/f at that point even if I thought that was the only place where women could Do Fun Stuff during sex, and also I wanted my fave guys to have fun stuff done to them (and possibly watch as the fun stuff wrecked them from their own POV, more like an emotional voyeur thing than a "omg they're so lucky I wanna be in their place!" thing) and women weren't allowed to be the ones to do it to, apparently. 4) And know that I'm p sure the actual femdom/woman on top/pegging content in fandom is still the same (tho I get told it's "everywhere" even in ships where it would make more "sense" for the guy to dom/top... then WHY can't I find more of it for my fave fandoms/ships/characters, btw?!) but at least ppl talk and even joke about it like it's normal and even appealing and cool, I get told that ALL of it MUST be performative... and I get to feel like a weird freak outlier all over again. 5) Not just that, but sometimes I get to be told that by ppl who seriously believe the "the only reason to write from a bottom's POV is being a bottom yourself" thing and also in the tangentially related "service tops who get off on giving pleasure are a myth/a fantasy made up by selfish bottoms/unfeminist if they're women" thing. When I like writing from both the top's and the bottom's POV, and I LOVE female service tops and gentle/playful femdom and women topping with only *hints* of femdom... 6) ... and I already had to go through a whole phase when I thought I was the only one interested in writing and reading about all THAT, and that "real" femdom/woman on top stuff had to be about icy goddesses/greedy queens/heavy or not-quite-so-heavy sadism/men caring only about serving women and women not caring about men at all in the past. And that women topping couldn't exist without explicit femdom anyway. So, yeah, double the "what is this, my teenage insecurity all over again?!" effect. 7) ... but on the other hand, all of this is making me think back to how happy I was when I finally found creators, both in fandom and out of it, who wrote and drew femdom and woman on top content that actually fit my specific tastes to a T. How much happier and secure it made me feel, and how it made me understand that I didn't need to write or consume that kind of thing the supposedly "right" way. And that includes YOUR fics, Lavi. Especially the JB ones. Thank you so, so much for those!! 8) I'd tell you off anon bc that's how much it means to me, but... I have a good, solid idea of what I like and how I like it in fiction but as far as rl goes it's all questioning and confusion right now. I haven't even figured if I'm allo or ace tbqh. And I feel this kind of fandom discourse is SO inextricably tied to own's own sexuality and sexual preferences that it feels embarrassing to put my name on a rant like this without even *knowing*, like someone's gonna pop up form nowhere and... 9) ... and be like "well, ofc you don't *get* it and you have all these weird ideas and you don't know how things are SUPPOSED to be like! You're confused on one thing, so you MUST be confused on everything else including your own preferences, too!" And I know that's not going to happen with you, but, y'know. It's not exactly easy. Tbh it's one of the things I hate about tumblr fandom and modern fandom in general. But, huh. Getting back on track: thank you, again. So, so much.

hey anon first of all dw I get why you wouldn't want to say this off anon given the current climate, but other than that and getting into what you're actually saying.. first of all let me tell you the whole 'ah if you write the bottom then you ID with the bottom' thing is top ten of my most dreaded arguments wrt writing fic ever never mind that time I actually discoursed about it with someone who decided that if I could imagine stuff done to me by a guy then WHAT DIFFERENCE IT MADE IF IT WAS A GIRL during the mythical discourse in which half of this hellsite blocked me because I said that straight women would most likely prefer to write/consume porn involving men without it being fetishism because if you're straight you don't care for f/f which apparently made me extremely problematic but *rolls eyes* that's like complete bullshit and I've been sadly laughing about it years later because that's actually way more sexist of them to say bc it implies that women can only want to bottom which is... an... extremely sexist thing to say so *rolls eyes* and honestly I've stayed out of any pegging debate because like I really doubt that it's a thing that translates into rl practice - if a dude irl doesn't want to try pegging he just has to say it and no one forces him to because guess what to have consensual sex both people have to consent, which automatically turns into the usual assuming that a thing that has a traction in fiction/fandom means irl consequences which is completely idiotic either and honestly the fact that people are pearl-clutching over femdom content and deciding it's popular because it's woke just makes me side-eye everything because it's the usual dumb af terfy debate where ppl make sexual preferences political, which... is... stupid af like ppl like what they like in bed, there is no exclusive to roles or positions based on genders, service tops are not a myth and saying that writing X sex is woker or less woke than Y sex is just ridiculous - and someone could be writing a thing they're not into irl just because it fits the character(s) they're writing for that matter (see that time I wrote that damned jon/ygritte mommy kink where it's like so not my thing XDD) - but again... it's again the usual stupid discourse wrt wanting to say what women can find acceptable in bed or not which I would hope we had left behind us with the victorians and it's honestly worrying how many people fall for that dumbass rhetoric just because it sounds vaguely woke? then again fandom is overrun with in disguise terf discourse these days so what can you do except doing your thing, but tldr there's nothing performative in most of that and if some people are into it for that it doesn't mean everyone is? also lmao I mean now there's a fair amount of content also because media became a bit better wrt showing women in charge sexually but like idk how to say it but before what S6-S7 of got and I'm being very generous with the times just if you looked at the jb tag the femdom/pegging content was basically yours truly and four other people and not that much, it exploded later and BELIEVE ME I WAS VERY HAPPY ABOUT IT but ppl saying that it's such a thing everywhere are seeing things because in my experience it's really not (I mean.... guys look at the percentages in r*ylo fandom X°DDD like I don't read fic for that ship because 99% of that is topbensolo which I'm not interested in reading at all so X°DD) X°D also the whole top-bottom debate is idiotic af because personally I just write the sex from whichever pov fits the story better and I can assure that every time I do it from bottom pov that is not the pov I'm relating to most of the time anyway and I'm generally thinking of what the other person's doing anyway (and the one time I had to pull teeth to write m/f porn was where I was doing the bottom female pov X°DDDD like writing the guy would have been way easier but that didn't work for that story and idt that ship has the dynamic where the girl would generally top so X°DDDDD) and like... obv if you're into men in any way and you're

not interested in reading maledom m/f you'd rather read m/m that's not exactly surprising but ofc according to people that's fetishizing and whatnot, and I don't even want to touch the f/f topic because the discourse there is ridiculous and I'm pretty sure people are assholes about what's legit to write in f/f stuff too and I'll be glad to avoid it because I have one f/f sandbox where no one else plays and I'll stick with it, but like the fact that people want to dictate what you can like or not and decide what's a fetish or not is to me absolutely ridiculous *shrug* and on top of that telling ppl 'ah you're confused so ofc you think this' is ridiculous because if you're questioning it's your right to do that and no one is hurrying you to not do it in your own time and while you do you read/consume whatever tf you want? people should find out in their own time and sometimes it takes a lot to get there and new stuff pops out even when you think you have it figured out, and again there's nothing more antifeminist than telling women that they can't like whatever thing in bed whichever it is and I'm wholly not even caring about this discourse because the last thing anyone needs is making sex political and what people like to read or write political but -__-''

anyway you're very welcome and you're too kind T____T much glad if I could provide you content you liked and made you feel better about it but hey as stated all there's nothing bad or un-woke in liking any of that XD <3333

#anonymous #ask post #1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #sexuality for ts #shipping discourse for ts #god that fucking person wrt the top/bottom stuff I can't eveb

[bard-llama]

Sorry you can't sleep! Have this: Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much. // Describe your perfect writing conditions. // Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

Hahaha, so of course I fell asleep after posting that. But thank you for sending! <3

Three of my favorite fic writers

Okay, tbh, my fave fic writers are not in The Witcher fandom. Two are atla writers and one is a star wars writer. BUT, that said, if you’re in those fandoms, FOR SURE you should check them out!

Vathara - wrote my all time favorite fic, called Embers (atla). Their worldbuilding is what I aspire to. This fic is really, really long, but I will legit just stay up for 3 days to read it because I love it so much.

@muffinlance (ao3) - writes some incredible atla fics and I love they way they show cultural differences/different POVs and how people interpret things differently. Seriously, I’ve gotten so much inspiration from their works and I really recommend checking them out!

@fialleril (ao3) - writes some amazing Star Wars fics and really, really helped me fall in love with the universe. I rarely read fics before Fia’s fics, and now nothing measures up, tbh. But for real, I aspire to tell stories like Fia does.

Describe your perfect writing conditions

Okay, so in 2020, I bought my first major piece of furniture and it was a LaZboy recliner and I love it so much (and uh... might’ve slept in it last night oops). So yeah, ideally, I sit in my recliner and either play music or watch something that doesn’t require much attention. I cannot stand silence (like, at ALL, it makes me jittery and anxious), so I’m always playing some sort of background noise.

But the most essential thing about writing for me is actually collaboration and brainstorming. I don’t really have trouble coming up with ideas (in fact, I struggle with not writing every single idea down), but ideas need fleshed out and I loooooove chatting with people who get excited about it and offer suggestions and just... brainstorming is my fave part, honestly. 

Rude reviews and how to deal with them

I honestly don’t know that I have? Well, that’s not true. I totally have, but I tend to give the benefit of the doubt and assume they are well-intentioned, unless they’re obvious trolls. So mostly... uh, my strategy is to... ignore it??? IDK that’s my default procrastination: hide in fantasy! I do have very, very distinct memories of getting ripped open by a comment when I was writing for BBC Merlin back in high school. There had been an earthquake in Corpus Cristi, AU, and I was in my earth science class and, as usual, had finished all my work early, so I decided to write. And I wrote a little piece that was... idk, the main characters dealing with the possibility that one of their dad’s was in the earthquake zone. From my perspective, it was about hope, because I very much believe stories have power. But from others’ perspectives, I was being very... idk what the best word is? Rude? Appropriative? Basically, inappropriate. 

TBH I dunno who was right there. I suspect no one was, because everyone is different and everyone has a different reaction. But that was the first time I contemplated taking my work down. I did end up hiding it from the public on livejournal. When I uploaded my past works to AO3 in 2020, I did include it, but I very much contemplated not doing so. 

Uh, that’s not a very helpful story. But I guess... idk, I’d say when you get rude reviews, share them with people you trust. Get a second opinion on if your reaction is reasonable. When we create something, we can get really defensive over it and sometimes that means we interpret things in harsher ways than they’re meant. But also, if you don’t know what to say to a comment, don’t say anything. That’s okay. 

On that cheery note, send me a fanfic writer question!

#ask game #fic recs #do-androids-dream-ao3acc