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sunboki · 7 months

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001. RECORD PLAYER LOVER — ANTHOLOGY

PAIRING. Christopher Bahng x fem. reader | WORD COUNT. 3.3k & 20 minute read | SERIES PLAYLIST. | WARNINGS. cursing | TROPE. enemies to lovers (somewhat), fishing town au, friends to lovers, coincidences, making-up (in a way)

( ✉️ ) — if you want an idea of where the small town boy! chan brainrot came from, seek this post back in july.. it only got worse from there(＞＜)

There’s a new guy working at the Record Shop you’d been to countless times as a kid. So when you show up and see a stranger working the register and not the sweet old man who’d give you lollipops, you’re not too pleased.

The last time a new face showed up in your town had to be before you were born, and as someone nearing twenty-one, that said a lot.

On the bright side, there wasn’t much judgment unless it came from choosing the wrong batch of strawberries in front of a grandmother, or perhaps that was simply your experience living here all your life.

Although, twenty-one years later, you didn’t expect for someone new to show up.

Familiar chimes clatter above your head while opening the door, bright blue label reading “Po’s Vinyl” decorating the windows and staining the tile floors an iridescent tone from the midday sunlight. It’s pretty, it’s ordinary.

Except something isn’t ordinary, because after a good few minutes or so of browsing, your normal stop by the register stops you in your tracks.

Clad in a black beanie with bouncy, tangled curls peeking from the fabric is a stranger. A stranger with toned arms and a pretty nose and kind features you stare at for too long.

But he’s not the grandpa, not Mr. Po who’s been dearly greeting you each and every day for more than twenty years.

Your stomach drops.

“Excuse me, excuse me,” You scramble to the counter, his warm pools for eyes flickering up with surprise. “Where’s the old man- Mr. Po- the one who works here?”

“Oh! Mr. Po? He retired a few days ago.”

Now your stomach decided to do backflips, and there’s a pit of nausea climbing up your throat.

Curse the boy in front of you for looking so happy-go-lucky. This moment is detrimental, why is he smiling? …And why is he cute?

Preparing to ask a billion questions, you pause, fixing the handsome man with an incredulous look before he catches onto your confusion.

”Sorry sorry, I’m Chris, ‘moved in last night. And you?”

Debating upon either running out the door right now to end up apologizing later, you crack a small smile you hope looks a tad bit more graceful than earlier.

Chris, huh.

“Y/n,” You reply, noting the soft dip of his dimples. “And uh.. you haven’t met Miss May yet, right?”

The question, coming off as more of a warning than anything, earns a sheepish shake of his head noticing your pitying expression.

Granted, the woman wasn’t that awful, she’s just.. Miss May. An unmarried, stubborn, seventy year old prune who will rightfully argue with anybody about anything and rightfully enjoy it. Not to mention her addiction to finding a suitable lover, and not just for herself.

Trust, once she lays eyes on this breathtaking hunk of husband in front of you she’ll never leave him alone. Might as well treasure your days until you’re stuck in the witch’s dungeon.

“Can I ask what you mean by that?“

Spaced out watching his lips move, you barely caught the question till he cleared his throat and every particle in your body resorted to self sabotage.

Way to make an introduction.

Opening your mouth to respond, you choke on your words, hastily run behind the counter and whisper-scream for him to duck at the sight of said woman passing by the window.

Speak of the devil.

At his attempt to peek out, your hand unconsciously forces his head down, slapping on your best “nothing to see here!” façade while the heel-wearing matchmaker saunters in.

“Why hello dear,” She casually drawls, thin brows raised.

The woman slowly grins, stepping forward to lean over the counter and peer down where Chris hides blinking up beside your calf.

“You can come out now.” She says with a chuckle, and he hesitantly raises up, face blooming pink.

Erupting with obvious delight, she claps her claws hands together, and you can feel the dread creeping in from a mile away.

“My my, I didn’t know you two knew each other- -“We don't!” Shouting in unison, you synonymously turn to each other, nothing but utter puzzlement etched across your faces. It’s like something out of a sitcom. Literally.

“He’s Chris,” Nervously, you refer to the man with an uncertain point of your finger, him doing the same.

You’re certain if this situation got any more awkward you may win a spot in the book of world records.

Miss May amusedly shook her head. “So you do- -“No!”

She might as well have been internally arranging a wedding by the way she stared through your souls, neither of you daring to move a muscle out of fear she might pop a ring out of her ass and declare you engaged if you breathed loud enough.

“Alright alright, I’ll leave you two to your business then.” Waving like some pretentious heiress, you make sure to mock the action once her back is turned—Chris stifling a bubbling laugh beside you when she finally leaves.

You have an itch this won’t be the last time she stops by. You’ll just pray it won’t be when you’re within a six foot radius of both this shop and the man next to you.

Sorry Chris, it’s every man to themselves with Miss May.

Brushing off your clothes, you step back slightly, not realizing how close you’d gotten to him before nearly bumping into the dark-haired man. And, in the least weird way possible (that's still weird), from your closeness, you discover he smells like the ocean. Not too salty, not too strong. Like the sea’s air clings to his clothing.

Considering he got here a day ago, he must’ve stopped by the harbor on his way here. Strange.

“I’m.. gonna go. See you sometime?” Heading toward the door, you spare a glance behind you, vision again magnetically pulled down to his lips—so plush and pretty, then back to those equally pretty eyes that crinkle when he smiles goodbye. A nervous habit.

Who knew a potential heartthrob would show up here out of all places.

Guess things were finally getting interesting.

Your trek home wasn’t too eventful, unless you counted locating Mr. Po, begging him to come back, and avoiding the severely bitter tea he kept offering—then yeah, not too eventful.

Jamming the key in your door and being sure to successfully waste at least three hours forcing the newest addition to town out of mind, you’d like to say by the time 6pm rolled around he was completely void of your thoughts, but the coffee stain on your shirt after imagining his face said differently.

Best part about not having a neighbor? Walking around without a top, bottoms, or anything on was always on the table. Sort of gross, but you get the picture.

Best part about not having a neighbor yet.

You should’ve put the pieces together sooner, because already halfway into pulling your shirt up off your head did you notice a pair of eyes meeting yours from the other, usually vacant house next door.

Chris’ eyes. Unmistakable and currently swimming with horror.

It wouldn’t surprise you if you looked the same right now.

Urgently yanking the fabric back over your body, you practically throw yourself down, met with nightmare-fueling reality and too much embarrassment to properly function nor rise from your squat on the floor.

Moved in last night, he’d said. But the one thing he forgot to mention was that he moved in right next door.

Fucking. Fantastic.

. ..

Over the next five days, you’ve come to the conclusion that Chris makes music. Or something involving headphones, his finger tapping a beat, and the occasional nod of his head to a rhythm—observations made from peeking out the window each evening.

It’s sort of mesmerizing watching him routinely click buttons. Like, in a sense, you learned the first clue about his life before telling him your name.

That is until he rises and you prepare to duck, fixated on his adam's apple bobbing when he swallows, pretty, still damp strands of dark hair crowning his forehead.

The last thing you need is for him to catch you ogling after having witnessed you half naked, something that would, quite literally, be the cherry on top of demolishing your ego.

Knowing him though (after only physically meeting once), he’d probably gladly forgive and forget, but you couldn't, and that was the problem. Couldn’t shake that incessant pit in your stomach telling you if it were anyone else you’d be able to move on.

Anyone other than him, other than Chris.

Something about him. There was something about him.

On the other hand, Chris couldn’t forget either. The image permanently tattooed in his brain for what felt to be eternity.

Not just your body (and also your body), but you, the incredibly attractive new acquaintance he’d met hours beforehand was, coincidentally enough, his neighbor.

And it didn’t take a genius to figure out you were avoiding him since, frankly, it was virtually impossible not to run into everyone in this town at least once a day.

He was a nice guy, so he gave you your space. Nevertheless, that didn’t keep him from picking some fun from time to time.

Like yesterday when he’d noticed you standing by your sink, repeatedly stealing not-so-sneaky glimpses.

Slyly deciding on honing the most nonchalant move in the book, he stretched. Rolling his head back, a tiny bit of his abdomen becoming visible when his arms raised up, and even sighing just to add to the ambiance.

Trying not to laugh had never been so difficult in his life.

Regardless, avoidance never lasted forever, and seeing you practically tiptoe around town was too obvious not to pay mind to.

So when the door to Po’s Vinyl creaked open during his evening shift, he craned to greet the customer, only to be met with bare space. Well, prior to noticing your hunched frame stalking through aisles, crouched down rather comically.

Biting his tongue, he watched you scour like a mad-woman, finally stilling in front of at a new arrival, the latest album restocked yesterday.

Turns out you were fated to run into each other again somehow. One way or another.

Maybe this was his chance to clear things up, or maybe that was the wrong move, maybe it would mess everything up and you’d move away and— Oh. You’re in front of him now, pale as a ghost and religiously averting eye contact.

“This,” You mutter, barely forming coherent sentences while sliding the album forward, hand wildly fishing through your bag in search of your wallet.

He stays quiet, periodically fixating on your expressions while scanning the barcode. Debating, contemplating.

“Hey can we—“

“Sorry! I really need to go to the vendors today, another time?” Scrambling, you snatch your purchase and rush off, ceasing to take note of the playful smirk painting his features.

He has an idea, an idea that may or may not work.

He’ll test his luck.

Spending the majority of his shift waiting for you to pass by again, he immediately locks onto your frame sprinting past an hour or so later.

Stepping from the store and calling out your name multiple times, it only makes you walk faster in response, leaving him to gradually catch up and move in front of you.

You try slipping past each side, finding yourself blocked every time. Your brows knit frustratedly.

“Y/n, can we talk, please?”

You sigh, stalling your movement to cross your arms and send him a taut gaze.

He can tell you hate this, hate standing here and especially hate his invitation, but the small, curt nod he got after a few seconds was enough.

Perhaps, that “maybe” would turn out true. The chance to clear things up.

He hoped.

. ..

“Look, I didn’t see anything.”

“Liar.” You grumble, jogging to keep pace without heading anywhere in particular.

If only you were a toddler and could throw a tantrum to get out of this due to simply being petty. Except you couldn’t. You were an adult, and you had to handle the situation like one.

What bullshit.

Flailing his arms helplessly, he tugged his jacket tighter against his body, the chilling air only dropping further as you neared the ocean.

“I’m not lying! Seriously!” Voice childish whilst avidly squirming around, the sound of gray rocks clattering beneath your shoes muffles your conversation.

He halts suddenly and you do the same, ceasing to acknowledge how far you’d aimlessly walked till the Lighthouse, located on the furthest side of town, looms above.

There’s a good minute of silence, interrupted by clearing his throat and simultaneously sending you a mischievous glance.

“Although,” He begins. “That red color was cute.”

You blink, watching as he gestures to his chest before swiftly dodging your swinging fist, looking mere seconds from exploding.

It’s sort of adorable.

Adorable in a dangerous, likely-to-kill-you way. But adorable.

Albeit expecting you to drown him, sucker punch him or suffocate him (quite possibly all three), you alternatively grab his hand, dragging him towards the Lighthouses’ entrance and up the winding rails.

Chris doesn’t interject nor pull away, face instead broken into a sweet smile while following you, observing you.

Arriving at the top that overlooked blue cascades, you sit down, not caring to explain with your knees pulled to your chest. He doesn’t mind.

It’s hard not to admire the endless abyss of water overwhelming every expanse in view, the moon’s glint scattering upon its surface. Wind whips your hair in wild directions, and it’s rather cold now above ground level.

Chris quietly hikes up the last few stairs behind you, easing off his jacket to drape around your shoulders—earning a hum of appreciation as he drops down on your right.

Silence.

“Hey, um, thanks.” He speaks, but his voice is softer this time, sadder this time, and if it weren’t for you two being mere inches apart you doubt you would’ve heard it.

“For what?”

“Nothing important. Just, thanks.” Peering at you with a tilt of his head, you decide not to pry, reflecting his subtle happiness.

Being completely honest, you don’t have the first clue of what Chris’ life was like before here. Somehow, it felt better staying that way. We all have secrets, and in a sense, this seemed to be his escape, his own secret.

Whatever his history entailed, you’re glad it led him to Seoul. Lead him to you.

“Awe,” You shove his shoulder lightly and the man pouts, cheeks dusted pink from the biting cold while his eyes stay trained on the sea, glimmering.

You sit there for a few minutes, listening, appreciating.

“Say, ‘wanna swim?”

The sky dark overhead, Chris gives you an incredulous look, wondering if you’re joking.

He’s quiet, eventually nodding and nearly toppling down the circular stairs after you, hastily pulling off your shoes to run through sand and scattered shells.

It’s stupid, so stupid swimming in freezing cold water at night.

Something the you who didn’t know Chris wouldn’t ever consider. But now he was here, currently taking off his shirt and— shit. He’s taking off his shirt. Holy shit.

Unfortunately, you weren’t given much time to be shocked (and mystified) before being picked up and literally thrown in, clothing and all very much intact.

Sputtering as you surfaced, you instinctively covered your top half, earning a giggle from the greek god of a man a few feet away, calf deep in the water.

“What’re you all shy for? ‘S not like I haven’t seen your—“ Now it’s his turn to be dunked, and you’re more than happy to force his curls into the water below, both drenched and shivering.

This is like a fever dream. Like you’ll wake up in your cozy bed to never have any of this happen in the first place. Never have had Chris happen in the first place.

Unable to contain the question, words basically pour out at an alarming pace the moment you open your mouth.

“Are you real?”

Because the moment feels too good to be true.

You both stop.

“Am I real? What, wanna find out?” He cockily points to his flexed arm, leaning your way while you shrink back, face contorted with disgust.

Best to have kept that one to yourself, but hell, you’d give in just this once.

Wading closer, you wrap your arms around his tummy in a sticky, uncomfortable hug. Chris doesn’t pull back though. Alternatively, he reaches up to pat the back of your head, surprised expression transforming into that of fondness.

You stay that way, wordlessly confessing so many things in a minute and a half as the stinging breeze seems to rattle your bones. Things you don’t have the courage to say aloud, things Chris understands all the same.

Walking home was a blur, filled with shapes and colors you barely recognized till the sound of a door opening knocked you back onto your feet.

Too cold to comprehend anything, you both race into separate rooms, coming to the realization this isn’t your home when searching for a towel to cover yourself.

Not your home, but his.

And you wonder if his setup is still situated directly in front of your window like normal. Wonder if, possibly, it was a coincidence you were now in the house you’d been staring daggers into for weeks, or if it all was a twist of fate.

How funny.

There’s quiet, childish interaction as he knocks on the door, sheepishly handing you a pair of his shorts and a t-shirt while his eyes stay glued to the floor.

Yet you can’t bring yourself to tease despite how bad the urge is, because he’s just him.

And you’re wearing his clothes. That too.

A hair dryer seated on his bathroom counter catching your eye, you pop your head out the door, yelling to Chris who’s busied himself somewhere in the living room.

“Hey Chris! Want me to dry your hair for you?” You shout, and he shuffles to make out what you said, practically lighting up witnessing you wearing his clothes.

The view is better than he could’ve ever imagined.

Laughter fills the air, all squeaky and high-pitched with you seated above him on the couch, occupying the floor while drying his wild curls that fly in every direction.

Clicking the off button, his head falls back to look at you, long eyelashes dusting and perfectly framing chocolate brown orbs. He’s practically glowing, and cupid has to be lingering nearby by how fast your heart thumps in your chest.

“…Can I spend the night?”

Whispering, you carefully place your hands on either side of his face, glancing back and forth erratically between his eyes and lips.

You don’t notice how close you are, a habit picked up from the start. He draws you in like a Siren, and you’re more than happy to senselessly follow his song.

His lips part, breathlessly uttering.

“Yes.”

And before you know it, you’re capturing his lips just as senselessly, kissing the man as if a near microscopic thread connected the both of you.

That is until Chris took charge, pulling your right-side up face against his upside down lips. Deeper, hungrier.

Crashing, like the moon-reflected waves you’d seen earlier. Messy and greedy, fervent. So many feelings, so many words without sound. You were good at doing that.

You’d like to admit it lasted for a few seconds, but from how you managed to somehow end up in his lap in the process, that definitely wasn’t the case.

“Here,” Chris says, handing you a warm mug of tea and settling beside you on the couch once you finally finished eating each other's faces, TV playing continuous episodes of Friends that numbly buzz your eardrums.

Neither of you spoke apart from exchanging drinks, atmosphere comfortable, exhaustion growing the longer you sat. Your eyelids began to droop before your head (unbeknownst to you) plopped onto his shoulder.

Initially Chris tensed, waking up from his own dazed daydream to marvel at the now sleeping beauty, you, cozied up against him.

He stared for a while, taking in what small interactions deprived him of. Those tiny details of you, the imperfect perfections. Beautiful.

Brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, he smiles—one that he can’t contain, one that hurts his cheeks from how big and bright it is.

“I’m so glad we met.”

> SERIES TAGLIST. @phtogravi @liknws @luckieleaf @jhstayy @meloncremesoda @chans1aptop @eternitywaveshello @meanergreener @ladylexis @love-gy-u @hanjingin @idkluvutellme @dark-anxel @yubinism @rachabreathing @seung-scrittore @fylithia @skzsupremacy @alrm02 @ener-energy @koliki @anskiiz @dprkbyn @bellamuerte1987 @ylixbok @hanjisung-enjoyer @youngunknownwitch @hwangflora @hanjiingin @starlost-andfound @taeriffic @flwerfield

sunboki, may 2022 ©

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highvern · 4 months

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Teach Me VI

Final

Pairing: Lee Dokyeom (Seokmin) x fem!reader

Genre: smut, humor, college au

Warnings: angst, pining, crying, alcohol consumption, jealous pouty DK, meddling Seungkwan and Hoshi, eventual smut, dry humping, making out, face fucking, munch DK as always, unprotected sex, cream pie, they're simps for each and its disgusting!, DK wearing a chain that dangles in readers face bc im sick and twisted, kinda choking but not really?

Length: ~7.4k

Note: SURPRISE!! ITS HERE!!!! this series started in OCTOBER which is wild to think about. two months of these two plaguing my day to day and so many amazing readers interacting with the story honestly makes a little emotional for it to end. this is the first series i've ever done and now it's over so soon but there are bigger and better things on the horizon! (goes and cries in the corner) If you notice any errors or typos pls ignore.

This blog is intended for 18+ only! MDNI or you'll be blocked!

read more here

[MONDAY 11:23 AM]

YOU: Home

Mr. Boo: Thank you! Love you!

Mr. Boo: We can have a bff night when I get back

[MONDAY 4:48 PM]

DOKYEOM: Hope you got home safe

DOKYEOM: I’m sorry, I shouldn't have spoken to you like that.

DOKYEOM: Can we talk this week?

Dokyeom doesn’t leave his room the rest of the weekend. A combination of fear of Seungkwan beating the crap out of him and absolute heartbreak keep him wrapped in the covers. Not even Soonyoung can elicit more than a half-hearted grunt when checking if his roommate is still alive.

The drive back to campus is no different. Staring longingly out the window, Dokyeom stares at his unanswered messages. When he goes to your Instagram he finds your account missing with the sinking realization you blocked him.

Seventy two of the best and subsequent worse hours of his life crumbled your fragile relationship. He thought you returned his feelings.

After Soonyoung blabled a drunken confession on Dokyeom’s behalf, he worried you’d drive off in the night; swiftly rejecting him. But you wrapped your arms around him and held him as you slept. Kissed him awake in the early morning sun, nothing but a soft smile and presses of lips across his face. It was better than anything Dokyeom hoped for. He thought it meant you liked him back even if you didn’t say it yet.

But then you interrogated him and the hot tub and it all came crashing down. You were trying to let him down easy, buttering him up before giving him a reality check. It’d hurt of course. The tsunami of shame at thinking he had a chance and then adding insult to injury when you called him childish.

Dokyeom knows he was wrong for his reaction but embarrassment sent him spiraling and he needed to get as far away from you as possible.

And now that he’d succeed, he doesn't think he can find a way back.

—

Monday and Tuesday are spent suffocating under a mound of blankets, munching on a carton of ice cream, and crying till your head hurts and your throat is sore. The string of texts from Dokyeom remains thoroughly ignored; but each buzz of your phone raises your heart rate to unhealthy levels until you read the notification from some store offering a discount.

You ignore the string of messages from Dokyeom, tempted more and more to block him as they come through; but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Just like you can’t bring yourself to delete the pictures of you two together peppered throughout your camera roll, or the most recent video that does nothing but make you sick to your stomach.

Tuesday night your roommate returns to campus, cheery and well rested from a weekend with her boyfriend back home. You hide from her friendly questions about your weekend in the bathroom, shrouded in steam and bubbles.

Looking at yourself in the mirror after you're sufficiently pruned and chilled from freeze drops, you notice the traces of Dokyeom still on your skin.

A tiny maroon bruise is fading to a sick green right under your collar bone. Prodding it with the tip of your finger, you wince at the tenderness of the flesh.

You hate it.

Hate how somehow your eyes are thick with a gloss of tears at the sight of a hickey, they way you can’t catch your breath when you realize the shirt you brought in with you is another one of his you lifted over the months.

Dokyeom hadn’t been your boyfriend. You two hadn’t even been casually dating. Over and over again you remind yourself you were just friends who had sex, and you shouldn’t be this torn up over a guy. Dokyeom didn’t like you and that wasn’t something to hold against him.

But the facts do nothing to stop the knot permanently lodged in your throat.

—

The first time you see Dokyeom post-not-breakup, he’s sitting in one of the rolling chairs at the mahogany table you two claimed for your usual study sessions.

Blood frozen, heart clenching unbearably, you turn and walk right back out the revolving glass doors, hoping he didn’t see you.

But the echo of quick footsteps behind you say otherwise.

“Hey! Y/N!”

Faltering for a moment, you keep walking as if you hadn’t heard anything. And because the universe has a sick sense of humor, the crossing light turns red just as you approach, leaving you stranded with the one person you didn’t want to see.

You whip around at tap against your arm with such ferocity you nearly stumble.

Dokyeom has the gall to smile at you sheepishly before opening his mouth, “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“You weren’t in lab yesterday.”

“Nope.” You respond monotonously, glancing behind you at the still red crossing light.

“Did you need notes or—”

“No, I got them already.”

“Oh, well—”

The light turns green, allowing you to race across the road before Dokyeom can finish his thought. The heat of his gaze doesn't leave your back until you turn down the next road leading you home.

—

Your second interaction with Dokyeom is in the same sterile lab your friendship started. You slip inside just before class starts, narrowly avoiding getting locked out by your grumpy instructor.

Sliding into an open seat near the door, you stare straight ahead as he delves into the topic for this afternoon, pointedly ignoring the pair of eyes watching you from the familiar station at the back of the room.

“Finals are almost upon us people so I would like to take this opportunity to remind you that the lab is not open after hours. Meaning, you should prioritize your time in this room. Now let’s get started.”

The guy you’ve been partnered with is nice enough, willing to follow your lead as you read off the necessary equipment. He even manages to crack a few jokes, though not funny you’re thankful for the distraction.

You learn his name is San, he’s an underclassman and he doesn’t understand anything about the class despite attending every lecture and office hour available.

When he leans over to copy the results you’ve scratched into your notebook, you hear a crack and shatter behind you. A dozen heads twist towards the source of commotion, finding a red faced Dokyeom staring at you.

“Mr. Lee! May I remind you our lab equipment isn’t cheap!”

“Sorry,” he mutters, shuffling towards the broom hanging on the wall.

You focus on ignoring him the rest of class, which is surprisingly easy with your new partner pestering you with inane questions.

A lull hits, waiting for the digital scale to spit out a final reading. You managed to pull well ahead of schedule, calling over your instructor to verify your results before collecting your things.

“So,” San starts, stuffing his own notebook in his bag. “Would you be down to tutor me sometime?”

“Oh, I uh—”

“No pressure! I just saw some of the old quizzes in your folder and thought maybe you could help me out.”

“Sure,” you smile, taking his phone to enter his number.

Voices from the different stations echo off the blank walls, drowning your conversation out.

“Awesome! My boyfriend took this class last year but did about as well as I’m doing.”

Returning his phone back, you start walking to the door. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, he told me to take geology instead but I didn’t listen.” He laughs, stepping forward to hold the heavy wooden door open for you to pass.

You miss the sound of a second beaker breaking as you walk down the hall with your new friend.

—

“Dude, you have got to calm down.” Soonyoung pleads, head hanging off the couch as his legs extend into the air. He swears the increased blood flow makes him smarter.

Dokyeom nearly wears a rut into the carpet from his pacing across the length of their tiny living room. He’s been in a mood since that afternoon, watching his not-girlfriend-possibly-no-longer-friend giggle with some dude that wasn’t him. And then give her number to said dude. In front of him. All while she completely ignored his existence.

“He probably just asked her to study together.”

Jealousy isn’t Dokyeom’s thing. Sure he may whine and pout if he isn’t getting enough attention, but he’s never got the blood boil urge scream like he has right now. And about a girl that won’t even look at him.

Tangling both fists in his hair, Dokyeom tries to calm down. Soonyoung was probably right. You’re a genius at chemistry, you’re slated to officially tutor through the library next semester pending final grades, and the guy Dokyeom swears he’s never seen in class most likely asked you for help. It’s not his place to be jealous.

“Hate to be that guy but you need to get a grip”

It's easier said than done. There's four more weeks of class plus a four hour final and your Seungkwan’s friend. You’re not going to disappear after the semester ends and Dokyeom’s feelings surely aren’t going anywhere given he’s got a constant reminder that you’re the woman he lost his virginity to.

If he knew inviting you to that party at the beginning of the semester would end up like this, he'd have sat somewhere else the first day of lab.

Soonyoung chokes on his own saliva when Dokyeom collapses on the floor with a reluctant, “You’re right.”

“I am?” Eyes bugging so hard they nearly pop from his head.

“I just have to move on.”

They both silently agree to pretend Dokyeom is capable of that.

—

San and his boyfriend, Jay, turn out to be horrible study partners. You are hardly able to focus from the way your abs hurt from laughter; Jay has a talent for self-deprecating humor.

“You didn’t!” You gasp, ignoring the daggers being glared into you back by other library goers.

Typically you’d respect the needs of others, but they chose to sit on the first floor; if they needed real quiet they should have sat upstairs where it’s enforced by a graduate librarian with nothing better to do.

Jay nods solemnly, “I threw up on him during our first date. But he,” flinging an accusatory finger at his boyfriend, “insisted we go to some weird food truck so it’s his own fault.”

“You said you liked to try new things!” San defends.

“Not food poisoning!”

Descending into giggles, you feel sorry Seungkwan is missing out on two people he’d get along with. But he canceled at the last minute, leaving you at the large oak table all by your lonesome until you’d run into your classmate, looking for a seat.

From the corner of your eye, you see a familiar someone approaching. White blonde hair and trademark grin, Soonyoung stops at the edge of the table.

“Hey, Y/N” he grins.

Sending him a tightlipped smile you return the greeting.

Soonyoung introduces himself to your tablemates, both just as friendly as he. Thick palpable tension descends into the warm atmosphere and you’re about to rise and get another coffee just to escape it when Soonyoung turns back to you.

“Could I take a look at your results from the last lab? We didn’t get to finish in time.”

The unspoken half of ‘we’ is Dokyeom.

You hate the flare of curiosity flashing in your head. When you partnered with Dokyeom you always finished on time if not early, even with his joking.

“Ugh, sure.” You agree, digging into your bag for your notebook.

Not waiting for an invitation, Soonyoung slides into the chair next to you, pulling out his own notebook to copy down your answers quickly. But even after collecting the necessary info, he lingers.

“So you’re in lab with us too, right?” He asks San.

“Yeah, but I’m probably taking it again next year even with Y/N’s help.” San smiles.

“And you?” Soonyoung asks Jay.

“No, I took it last year.”

“Glad to see someone can make it out alive! Do you guys mind if I hang out until my friend arrives?”

The friend is definitely Dokyeom but you don’t want to look like a bitch in front of your new acquaintances nor have to explain the mess of your love life to either of them.

Soonyoung’s self satisfied grin when you flash a tight lipped smile and nod nearly tempts you into strangling him. Why is he choosing to torture you? It’s Dokyeom’s fault no matter how you look at the situation. He tricked you; had you falling for the saccharine persona and ambiguous confessions. Dokyeom rejected you at the cabin for everyone to see, humiliated you, and then had the nerve to act upset when you wouldn’t speak to him.

You try to focus on the worksheet in front of you, a proactive effort to prepare for the final exam still far away. Drowning in extra credit had been an exhaustive effort to get your mind off of your issues but Soonyoung had to ruin it. And now he’s laughing with San and Jay like best friends and it’s all too much.

Shooting up from your seat, they all stop to stare as shaky hands pack up your materials. “Sorry, I forgot I had a thing. Somewhere else. Bye!”

Halfway to the door before anyone thinks to question your eagerness to leave, you walk right into another person.

“Shit sorry!” The faceless stranger exclaims as your books and papers go flying.

“No, I should have been watching wher–”

And when you look up, Dokyeom is staring back.

“Sorry, let me help you.”

“It's fine!” You snap, scrambling to shove everything into your bag.

You will not cry in the library: not over Dokyeom, not in front of Dokyeom. But once the concrete steps out front greet you the first tear falls and they don’t stop until you fall asleep curled up in your bed.

—

Later that week, in the sanctuary of your dorm, you indulge in contraband alcohol and the hype of your best friend.

“You need to just rip the bandaid off.” Seungkwan announces, arms thrown wide to punctuate his point.

“And how do I do that? I still have class with him!”

“Okay but how much of his stuff is still here?”

“Only like a few things.” you shrug, glancing around the room.

“Oh, really?” Seungkwan asks, throwing himself from his perch on your bed, crossing to the basket full of laundry in front of your closet. “Because this is a hoodie from his high school, this is the shirt I got him for his birthday a few years ago,” he shuffles around the collection of socks and pants to pull more of Dokyeom’s belongings out. “And I’m pretty sure you don’t wear boxers.”

Seungkwan launched the wad of clothing your way, disappearing into the bathroom in search of more evidence of your ex-friend with benefits.

“You let him keep a toothbrush here?” Seungkwan yells, head popping out with the neon green piece of plastic dangling between his fingers.

It's tossed into the growing pile at the foot of your bed, your rage-fueled focus on the smattering of objects on your desk.

More cheap wine and outrageous laughter has Seungkwan encouraging you to race across campus and return everything as soon as possible.

Red faced, he steadies you by your arms, “Listen, the sooner you get rid of this stuff the better. You’re like subconsciously holding on to him or whatever.”

Mooney eyed, you nod at your friend’s wisdom, scrambling for a bag.

The tote of Dokyeom’s belongings you’ve accumulated over the months sits heavy on your shoulders; bulging with the assortment of clothes, a spare phone charger, and a book that was severely overdue at the library you’d found under your bed.

Each click of your shoe against the tile floor echoes in the eerie silence as you walk down the hall towards the door of his apartment. The sterile lighting and gray walls are familiar yet alien under the new circumstances you're visiting.

You won’t be greeted with the smile you’ve grown to miss or the puppy-like excitement that once made you feel special. Both things of the past you hope to forget. No one had your heart fluttering or twisting in knots the way Dokyeom had. But those happy memories are just memories. And the sooner you cut him out, the sooner you can forget them.

Your fiery determination to get over him ignited in the walls of your bedroom had begun to smolder as the chilly wind and movement sobered you up.

A large part of you hopes it’ll be Soonyoung answering the door, Dokyeom absent for whatever convenient reason as you dumped his belongings and walked away for the last time. Worse case scenario, neither are home and you're left feeling like an idiot, lugging the ridiculously heavy bag back across campus in the freezing wind and rain.

Worse-er case scenario, Dokyeom is home.

The door to the boys’ apartment is like all the others, but the hot pink “please don’t do coke in our bathroom” doormat stands out. A gift from Jeonghan, if you remember correctly.

A quick rap of knocks announces your presence before you can lose your nerve, stepping back as you wait for it to crack open.

As luck would have it, Dokyeom answers the door.

“Um–” he starts, clearly confused by what he’s seeing.

Shoulders square, back pin straight, you thrust the bag at him. “Here’s your stuff.”

“Oh.” Dokyeom exclaims, still confused, but cradling the tote into his stomach.

“Well, bye.” You turn to leave but stop when he calls you back.

“I can grab your stuff real quick. Since you’re already here.”

It is a horrible idea. Alone with Dokyeom, in his apartment, where the only person to hold you accountable is yourself. But you can be done with this entire mess once you have the hodge podge of items you’ve no doubt accumulated here.

Nodding once, you follow as Dokyeom turns to head towards his bedroom.

Suffocating tension, thick as tar, fills the air. Dokyeom doesn't attempt to replace it with ill timed jokes as he digs in the black dresser in the corner of his room. The bottom left drawer had been long cleaned out of his own clothes, making room for the odds and ends left behind following your rendezvous.

A sizable pile of clothes lands on his unmade bed, followed by some toiletries you forgot at the cabin in your haste to flee.

Your ears are ringing from the quiet at this point, unable to look at Dokyeom swapping his belongings from the canvas tote with your own. Focusing on your phone, you scroll mindlessly, as Dokyeom works slowly to prolong the torture. He unfolds and refolds all the shirts, lost pairs of pants and shorts, before cramming them into the bag. If you took a second to look at him, you’d see longing glances in your direction with each item he packs away. But you don’t chance it until he approaches you when he’s finished.

“Here,” he says, eyes downcast as he hands you back the full bag.

Lifting it from his hands, you move back to the living room, bee lining for the front door and the sobering cold air outside.

“Wait.”

The smooth metal doorknob is cold against the wrinkles of your palm. All you need to do is twist and it's over. Unlatch the lock, step outside and your relationship with Dokyeom, whatever it may have been, is done. No more crying, no more wondering. Only four more classes and you can leave the mess of the past semester behind you forever.

But you can’t do it. The smallest part of your heart, buried under the weight of anger and sadness, pleads for you to stay. To give Dokyeom one last chance.

You wait for him to say something else, not moving a muscle as you take shallow breaths. Body tense in preparation, you’re afraid you might shake out of your skin. Being alone with Dokyeom was a stupid idea.

Realizing you're not going to leave, you hear him shuffle closer.

You jump when he speaks again, voice right over your shoulder. “Can we please talk?”

“What’s there to talk about?” You frown.

At his responding silence, you chance a glance over your shoulder, met with sad brown eyes.

“I just—,” he shakes his head, chin tipping towards the floor to examine his socks.

Prompting him again, “What do you want, Dokyeom?”

“You asked me if I liked you… and I do.”

You squash the seed of hope rooting in your chest, afraid that if he tramples it again you’ll never recover. Turning to face him, you cross your arms pensively. His confession should send your heart racing and your cheeks flushing. But why does he sound so sad about it?

Dokyeom scrubs a hand down his face in frustration. “I should have told you sooner but I— I kept waiting for the right time and then that night happened and I thought I messed everything up. But then we started fooling around so I thought ‘there’s no way she likes me.’ You know?

From where you’re standing, Dokyeom is exactly the kind of guy anyone would go for. Warm as a ray of sunshine, contagious laughter, thoughtful. Excited by life, and brimming with affection for anyone lucky enough to be considered his friend.

It’s a shame he can’t see himself the way you see him.

“I know all you wanted was to hook up and I was fine with that until you came to the cabin. Soonyoung had to run his mouth, and I thought you were trying to let me down easy in the hot tub so I got embarrassed.”

Biting your lip to stop the rebuttal simmering on the tip of your tongue, you feel the scowl melt off your face, morphing into a questioning gaze.

“You’re like, the coolest person I know. You’re funny and you’re smart and pretty, god you’re so pretty.” he breaths, finally looking at you. “And I feel like every time I get to see you I can’t breathe. And us hooking up made it worse because I’ve liked you since the first day of class when you sat down next to me and smiled at me. I thought I was gonna throw up.” Dokyeom raises his hands in defense as you scoff, quickly clarifying, “In a good way! You just— you make me nervous and stupid and now you hate me.”

He finishes the last part in a whisper, face vulnerable, looking at you helplessly.

“I don’t hate you.” You warble, launching yourself into his arms, tangling your limbs around him to squeeze as close as possible. It’s ungraceful, your head knocking into his chin, his feet scrambling to balance the unexpected shift of weight. But Dokyeom barely hesitates before pulling you into his chest, face buried in your neck while trying to force you into his skin by his arms around your waist.

Two puzzle pieces, carved to fit perfectly together.

“You don’t?”

Squeezing him tighter, you calm in the thud of his heart and the pine scent of his cologne. You both simply bask in the presence of one another. At a week and a half, this is the longest you’ve gone without the other since you started your arrangement.

Dokyeom presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, sweet as sugar. His lips ghost against your hairline as he starts to speak again. “I’m sorry for the way I acted. I shouldn’t have freaked out on you.”

“I shouldn’t have called you childish.” You apologize, tipping your head back to meet his gaze.

“I mean you were right. I was being a dick.”

“But I wasn’t in any shape to call you out when I was doing the same thing.”

“The same…” Dokyeom echoes, confused.

“If we weren’t so dumb we could have been dating for weeks by now.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” You smile.

“We really are dumb.”

Pure unadulterated joy takes flight on his face. Dokyeom cups your face in his hands, forehead meeting your own as you smile at him, his own dazzling in return.

“Yeah, but at least we have each other.”

The bark of awkward laughter and shaky words are unstoppable as you cower in his arms.

“So you’re okay with me calling you my girlfriend?”

“You can call me whatever you want.” You sigh, biting your lip at the idea.

“Even my shmoopie poopie?”

Nose scrunching as you laugh at his ridiculousness, you shake your head vigorously in objection. “You can call me whatever you want besides that.”

“Baby cakes?” He asks, peppering a kiss on your cheek.

“No!”

“Honeybuns?”

Another kiss on the tip of your nose.

“No.”

“What about–”

A firm press to his mouth silences Dokyeom as you hum.

—

Soonyoung returns to his apartment after another failed date, eager to shoot the shit with his roommate over a few beers and some video games. But when he opens the door to his home, he finds a trail of clothes flung haphazardly across the furniture, leading straight to said roommate's room.

No fucking way. Soonyoung thinks.

Then he hears a thud from behind the door, followed by a familiar laugh he hasn’t heard in the apartment in well over two weeks.

No FUCKING way! He huffs, reaching for his phone.

—

Down the street, Seungkwan smirks as the expected ding of a new Venmo notification shrills through the silence of your dorm:

“Kwon Soonyoung paid you $50.00. – HOW DID YOU KNOW? – Your Venmo balance is now $135.00.”

Epilogue:

Finals season rushes forward rapidly. Two days before you’re set to fly back home for winter break, Chem grades are released.

Another pair of matching As to be celebrated in typical fashion but this time you’re Dokyeom’s girlfriend and he’s sweating like it’s his first time all over again. The night you both confessed had been you last night together. Dokyeom insisted you take things slow, his fear of messing up again forcing him to take caution.

It's sweet. How he wants to take you out, wine and dine you as if a certain video didn’t still exist on both your phones. And you’d enjoyed the full experience too; walks around campus with interlaced fingers, shy glances in class, and girlish giggles as he offered his jacket on a cold night. The innocent good night kisses dropped on your lips in front of your door that have Dokyeom insisting “just one more” for an hour before he finally lets you slip inside your room.

It’d been everything you dreamed of and more.

But you're both tired of make outs that lead nowhere. Of sitting in Dokyeom’s lap at parties and not letting your hands wonder like you’re both dying too. Waking up in his bed and pretending you don’t feel him nudging the curve of your ass as before he hides in the bathroom to take care of his boner; leaving you to stare at the ceiling, fighting the urge to follow him into the shower and lend a helping hand.

Tonight, you’ve reached the boiling point and it’s spilling over.

“‘s okay?” He asks into the curve of your neck, palms gliding up your stomach underneath the soft cream sweater you’d worn to dinner.

Humming as your head lulls against the interior of his front door, the warmth of his mouth and hands making your brain fuzzy. Tonight, everything feels like more. Your nipples peak at the smallest brush of his tongue, back bowing under the swipes of his thumb against your ribs; even when he pressed a chaste kiss to the back of your intertwined fingers on the walk to his apartment ripped the air from your lungs.

Dokyeom feels the nerves of that first night, but you’re acting like the desperate virgin he’d been. Drooling to touch and be touched. For your boyfriend to string you out one last time before you both return home for a few weeks of winter break only to pick right back up in the new year.

Snaking a hand down his front, you palm the half hard length with a firm pressure that pulls his hips forward like a magnet. A strained grunts sings in your ear as Dokyeom rocks firmly in your grip, pressing you into the wall under his torturous grind.

Turning to nudge your nose into his cheek softly, hot kisses dropping across his jaw as you bid him to take off his pants; pushing them down clumsily. You don’t bother with the brass button or rough zipper, blinded by desperation and simply clawing the stiff material downwards in an effort to get beneath.

You manage to trickle to your knees, slipping through Dokyeom’s hold like water. The hard floor biting into your skin as you kneel before him to mouth at the thin fabric of his boxer. Dokyeom’s elbows land against the wall, caging you in as he watches from above; entranced by the shallow dip of your lips over the covered head of his cock and the lash of your tongue where you taste him through the fabric.

Tonight isn’t the night for teasing, so you have his boxers landing atop his jeans around his ankles in a blink. Tongue following the vein bulging on the underside of his cock as your hand returns to allow your thumb to dig into his slit.

Dokyeom whimpers a pathetic “fuck,” as you play with him, eagerly lapping up his shaft before sucking him into your mouth; hand dropping to cup his balls, the other rest on his stomach to hold his own shirt out of the way.

You missed how responsive he is to your touch, melting in the palm of your hand as he chases the warmth of your mouth with his hips. Anyone who walks by the door would undoubtedly hear what’s happening on the other side, the choked whimpers from you and guttural moans from Dokyeom combining into a lewd symphony.

Head hitting the wall behind you with a dull thud, you let Dokyeom take over; humming as each press forward leaves the taste of his cock on your tongue. There’s something degrading in letting him fuck your mouth like this, sandwiched between his hips and the wall as he uses you to get off.

You gasp for breath when he pulls away, tongue sticking out to bid him back but his slender fingers cupping your chin distract you straight into his lips.

Pulling you to your feet, Dokyeom dips his tongue between your lips as he leads you blindly to the couch. His mouth is nothing but taking; stealing your breath away, your sanity. Things you’d happily let him have if it meant he wouldn’t stop. But Dokyeom was a giver too. A slide of his tongue lit a fire under your skin, fanning the desperation bordering on depravity.

“Fuck me,” you plead, grinding your aching cunt against his thigh.

Dokyeom responds by pressing into you harder, teeth tearing into your bottom lip as his cock drools against your thigh, staining your jeans.

You're so turned on it hurts, pussy painfully empty and panties drenched from heavy petting. If Dokyeom doesn’t do something soon, you have half a mind to get yourself off without him.

Dokyeom is trying, fighting to not to blow his load on your leg as you whine and arch beneath him. For him. But when you manage to close your fist around his length, giving a firm tug with the twist around the head you know he goes crazy for, it’s all over. Dokyeom’s core tightens as he spills on your sweater, streaks of his cum ruining the fabric as he pants into your mouth. Your tight grip doesn’t falter as you work him through it, teeth bruising his jaw as he paints you with his seed.

When Dokyeom gains sentience again, he winces in shame.

“Shit, sorry. I didn’t— I wouldn’t,” he tries to apologize, but stops when you part your lips to lap at your stained fingers; eyes trained on the pink of your tongue dipping out to swipe against the tips for taste.

Mouth wide as he stares, Dokyeom thinks he might come again without any help as you suck your fingers. His own dip into the pool of cum dimpling across your stomach, lifting to your mouth to replace yours. Dokyeom groans as your eyes never leave his, heated and heavy lidded as lick them clean and swallow his cum.

Dropping his hand to the back of your neck, he angles your head so his tongue can delve into your mouth. It’s messy and disgusting but you like it and that’s all Dokyeom cares about as he works to free you both of your clothes. He’s stark naked easily, shirt gone over the back of the couch in no time. But your clothes require more focus than either of you are capable of when Dokyeom is on top of you.

His feet hit the ground before he rises to stand, dragging you up to roughly undress you. You don’t seem to mind if the way you fist your jeans down is an inclination. Outer layers gone, Dokyeom finally gets a peek at the early Christmas present you’d been hoping to surprise him with.

Lacy maroon panties and a match bra hug your figure, accentuating your shape in the most mouthwater ways. Eyebrows raised to his hairline, Dokyeom heaves at the masterpiece you present him with.

Drops of your flesh peek through the holes in the lace, teasing him with what’s underneath. The high cut sides of your thong dig into your hips, making your legs look impossibly long and highlighting the sway of your thighs. Straining to pull his eyes up further, Dokyeom finds the bottom hem of your bra. Tongue rolling out of his mouth as the cups push your breasts up and together, teasing Dokyeom with ideas of fucking his cock between them as you lick at the tip.

You look like a goddess and Dokyeom is happy to get on his knees to worship every inch.

Dokyeom catches you smirking at his obvious reaction when he finally looks at your face. Stepping into his space, your fingers find purchase in the short hairs at the base of his head. A cold sweat breaks on his brow as you smile like the cat who got the canary.

“Do you like my outfit, Kyeomie?” You ask, tone deceptively sweet.

If he was capable of any thought beyond cataloging the swaths of naked skin and curves, maybe he’d answer more eloquently than grunting like a caveman.

“I picked it for you.”

Dokyeom lets his hands find your hips, squeezing the plush flesh in his palms as you continue to toy with him. His fingers pluck the thin elastic while his mind wanders down the extensive list of things he’s dying to do to you.

“Do you wanna see the whole thing?”

“There’s more?”

Falling to the floor, you dig into the pocket of your jeans for whatever the last piece of your outfit, if you could call it that. Rising again you present him with a thin piece of ribbon and a silver chain, both causing Dokyeom’s face to twist in confusion.

You prompt him to take the scarlet ribbon, a perfect match to the set you’ve donned, allowing Dokyeom to spot the clasp at the ends and the small silver charm dangling in the middle.

A sun is embossed on the front of the circular piece of silver. And engraved on the back is his name.

Having his name around your throat while he fucked you isn’t a kink he knew existed. But now Dokyeom is pretty sure he’ll be haunted by the idea for the rest of his life. The silver chain still in your hands has a similar charm but with a moon. Dokyeom’s vision goes fuzzy and his brain clouds at the assumption your name is on the back to match.

“Will you help me put it on?” You ask innocently, turn around so Dokyeom can slip what he can only describe as a mock collar around your neck.

Dokyeom latches the clasp with shaky hands, the strip of silk pulled taunt around your neck with each breath. When you face him once again, the charm sits in the hollow of your throat, silver winking at him seductively.

The icy metal of the chain bites into his skin erotically as you raise to clasp it around his neck. Your nose nudges against his jaw, a ghosting open mouth kiss landing on his jugular as the charm teases the muscles of his chest where it dangles.

You land on the couch with a squeak, taken aback by Dokyeom shredding the delicate fabric of your panties with clumsy hands as he struggles to get them off you. Bullying his way between your legs, he apologizes with a heavenly strip of his tongue through your slit.

He eats you like a man starved, nails leaving crescents in the tops of your thighs as he spreads you so wide the muscles in your hips scream in objection. Dokyeom’s tongue dips into your hole, collecting your essence on his tongue before spitting it back on your clit and digging in. The swollen nub slips against the flat of his wet muscle, and when his lips gently close around it he sucks just the way you taught him to you he’s rewarded with a wanton sob.

Whines fly from between your lips at the torturous pleasure, thrashing as Dokyeom uses all his strength to pin you and place. Spots dance along your vision, expanding as two fingers push past your folds to stretch you out. Dokyeom knows your pussy like the back of his hand and he stuffs you just right with his fingers.

All you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and hold on tightly as you fly over the edge. Racing forward under the heat of Dokyeom’s mouth and harsh thrusts of his fingers till you weep pitifully. You’re floating through space under his attention; mouth open over silent begs not to stop, eyes clenched shut. Every beat of your frantic heart carries satisfaction through tense muscles till you are pliant and boneless.

“Too much,” you whimper, thighs forcing close around his head.

Dokyeom takes it in stride. The combination of your essence and his saliva soaking chin, leaving a damp trail across your body as he kisses his way to your mouth.

His thumb finds the ribbon taunt around your throat, focusing on the piece of metal resting against your skin as you taste yourself on his tongue.

Panting into his mouth, you mewl something vaguely sounding like “want you.”

Luckily, Dokyeom is more than happy to give you whatever you want.

Nodding like a bobble head, he pulls you down into his lap as he kneels on the floor. The head of his cock proddes against your entrance, slipping in just enough for you to take the rest with ease.

The stretch is nothing short of bliss; so deep you can taste him in the back of your throat. Dokyeom fills you perfectly, the small nip of pain from not taking him in the past month only multiplying the satisfaction you feel at finally having him inside you again.

With herculean effort, you rise to allow only a few inches to exit before dropping back down. Hands searching for leverage, you balance on the cushions behind you as you grind into his lap.

Dokyeom doesn’t know where to look, overwhelmed by his options; your face twisted around gasping breaths; or your chest, still clad in your bra, tits bouncing with each movement; or where his cock disappears inside you.

But the silver heart around your throat seems to snag his focus easily.

Dokyeom isn’t possessive but the way it not so subtly declares you as his makes his cock throb. He’s the only one that gets to have you like this, and you him. The twin pendants remind him you’re his girlfriend and everything beyond slips away as he watches it jerk around with every movement.

Before long, your legs burn from effort, ruining your already unstable motions into nothing more than stuttered ruts. Dokyeom’s hands palming your ass assist in lifting you to the couch, limbs awkwardly sprawled off the edges but he doesn’t slow while your nails scratch deep lines into his shoulders.

“Oh, don’t stop! Fuck, please don’t stop.” You beg, head thrown back into the cushions.

Stopping sounds like the worst idea he’s ever heard. Dokyeom needs this. Gloved snuggly in your heat after so long is the only cure for the constant plague of memories of pestering him day and night. He knows they won’t go away but at least he won’t feel like ripping his skin off every time you're within a fifteen foot radius.

The wet clap of your bodies grows to a crescendo, your orgasm on the horizon and tightening your muscles into a deathgrip on his length. Spots float in Dokyeom’s vision at the squeeze and he drops his mouth to yours to lap up all your high pitched whines.

When he rises again to gasp against his own pleasure, the chain you gifted him dangles right above your lips and a nuclear bomb detonates.

You cum again with Dokyeom’s thumb under the ribbon encircling your neck, a tease of choked breath as he rubs the charm like a lifeline. Voice cracking, earth shatter, mind numb pleasure from the tip of your nose to your pinky toe.

Dokyeom is babbling over you. Rhythm abandoned as he subjected to the tight squeeze of your worn cunt until that punch to his gut hits. Each rope of cum makes his cock throb as he plows you with a deep thrust, stilling to empty himself inside you.

You're fully crushed into the itchy upholstery as his arms buckle.

“Wow,” you gasp, catching your breath.

What else can you say? A month of no touching culminating into the best sex of your life with your devastating boyfriend while he wears a chain with your name on it.

Dokyeom cackles into your collarbone, chest tickling against yours until he leans back to look at you.

His hair resembles an electrocuted poodle, his lips are red and swollen, and sweat glosses his skin in the low light. But Dokyeom is glowing with life and happiness and all the things that make the world good.

“I love you.”

Dokyeom responds with a girlish shriek at your impromptu confession.

“Damn, okay.” You laugh, staring at his bare ass as he runs a lap around the living room stark naked.

“You can’t just— I wanted to say it first!” He pouts before flopping down on top of you.

“Are you serious?” Breathless from his weight, you fail to push him off you as he flails like a fish. “Is that what you’re focusing on?”

“Yes,” Dokyeom grouches into your cheek. “You’re the first girl I’ve felt this way about and I wanted to…”

He trails off, suddenly embarrassed. Your entire relationship was many of Dokyeom’s firsts. The first person he had sex with, first college girlfriend he told his mom and sister about, and now the first girl to make him truly understand loving another person. It wasn’t something you held over his head, and some of it he didn’t even tell you about but it all tallies up in his mind how unprepared he is for it all.

“Minnie, look at me.”

You don’t speak again until he finally meets your gaze.

“I don’t even remember what we were talking about.” You sigh.

Dokyeom doesn’t catch hint, “We were talking about–”

“Nope, can’t seem to recall.”

Finally, he catches the playful pout and the way your eyes cut back his as you look around the room feigning ignorance. And because he’s Dokyeom and you’re a sucker for anything he does, you can’t stop the smile mirroring his own when softly traces the apple of your cheek with his thumb.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

---

#svthub #lee seokmin #lee seokmin x reader #svt x reader #seventeen fanfic #svt #dokyeom #seokmin x reader #seokmin smut #dokyeom x reader #dokyeom smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #🫡 highvern

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imamotherfuckingstar-lord · 6 months

Text

Dishes

sanji x reader

a/n: fluff. UNEDITED.

summary: sanji and you having an unspoken connection but whose going to confess first?

The Sunny sailed through the night as Sanji placed several plates of food down onto the table; he laid out portions for each crew member and made sure everything was perfect before calling everyone down for dinner. Luffy, unsurprisingly, was the first to enter the kitchen followed by Chopper and Usopp. The cook watched the door behind where Luffy sat, the captain already digging into his food. Sanji’s eyes softened as you walked in alongside Zoro – the latter laughing at something you said. The fact that you could make the idiot swordsman laugh warmed Sanji’s heart, fluttering as your gaze met his. He turned beet red but immediately pulled out the chair next to Chopper and you thanked him.

“This looks so delicious,” you sighed contently, looking up to where Sanji stood over you. His eyes smiled when you reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you, Mr. Prince.”

He chuckled at the nickname and mentioned a second plate he had put away for you. “You know how Luffy is, let me know if you want it.”

You watched for a moment as he started making sure everyone was settled before Robin pulled you into a conversation about a book, she wanted you to read. The two of you talked quietly amongst each other while everyone else chatted and ate. The food, as always, was divine and Zoro had passed around a bottle of sake. From across the table, Sanji sat between Luffy and Franky, but his eyes were on you. Amused by the way your expressions you were making as Robin was speaking, Sanji could only smile. He wasn’t hungry much and casually slipped his plate to Luffy, heart stopping when you noticed the gesture and gave him a small, sweet beam. His entire body went warm, cheeks pink and he felt like he could split an entire ship in two with his foot.

“Where’s your head at, Sanji?”

Frankly nudged the man and he looked away from you, taking out a cigarette from his pocket. He lit the smoke and looked at his friend. “Sorry, just have a lot on my mind.”

“Oh, I think I know what you have on your mind,” Franky whispered, giving a little laugh. “You two crazy kids.”

Sanji said nothing but got up from his seat. Everyone but Luffy was finished with their meal, so he began to pick up the empty plates. Immediately, you got up and started to help even when he asked you not to. Ignoring him, you gathered a handful of plates and went to the sink while everyone else started to pile out of the kitchen. Zoro stuck around with Luffy, waiting for him to finish eating as he nursed more alcohol.

“Those two could out drink and eat anyone.”

Sanji moved next to you at the sink and placed the stack of dishes down, gently moving you aside so he could start washing the dishes. You laughed when he gave you a pointed smile and said how he didn’t want your fingers getting prune-y. “I know Nami just did your nails.”

“You are very thoughtful.” Holding up your hands, you asked if he liked the shade of color. “I’ve never used blue, but it reminded me of…well, anyways – what do you think?”

He grinned; hands deep into the water. “Any color looks good on you, but that blue – that blue is what I imagine the All Blue to look like.”

“Good.”

That’s all you could manage, so you proceeded to hip check the cook and took over the dishes. He frowned but you told him too bad. “You spent so much time cooking for us, the least I can do is wash the damn dishes. Got it?”

The demanding tone of your voice sparked a flame in Sanji’s heart, and he listened, asking if you’d like some coffee. “I can put the kettle on.”

You said yes and continued the task of the dishes, eyes wandering over to the table where Zoro and Luffy resided. The green haired man smirked in your direction as Sanji put the kettle on and then went to the table to finish picking up. Giving Zoro a quick shake of the head, you knew the teasing spark in his eyes and wanted nothing more than to shut him up with a fat dinner roll. He was the only one who knew about your feelings for the cook, and it had become a long running joke to him – any opportunity he would give you a hard time. Zoro grinned and you wanted to throw the wet dish in your hand at him, giving him a sharp look, which made him roar with laughter and you smile. Sanji, witnessing the exchange, frowned.

Had he been wrong? The signs – the looks, the smiles. Was it all in his head?

Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe and the cigarette in his mouth tasted bitter.

Was there something going on between Mosshead and you?

The thought brought a pain in his chest, and he needed air – desperately. Excusing himself, he fled the kitchen through the door that led to the deck, and you watched hopelessly. Eyeing Zoro, he shrugged, and you rinsed off the soap. Drying your hands on a nearby kitchen rag, you pointed a finger at Zoro.

“Finish those dishes.”

He protested but you didn’t respond, heading out to find Sanji. The air was cool, the moon high above the ocean water. The ship swayed as you walked across the deck, spotting Sanji leaning out against the railing to the right of Nami’s trees. He looked pristine in his button up white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Profile delicate and handsome, a true Prince if you have ever seen one. He stared out to the sea, only turning when he heard your boots against the deck. He straightened up and asked if there was something you needed - the warmth from his eyes gone.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, did you want me to go make that coffee for you?”

Confusion held your tongue and Sanji pushed away from the railing, starting back toward the kitchen. He wasn’t cold but something was off with him, and you grabbed hold of his elbow. Sanji stopped but didn’t turn to face you. Instead, his head turned, giving you a perfect view of his profile – again, so devastatingly gorgeous.

“Out of curiosity, something going on between Mosshead and you?”

Laugh. That was all you could do at the mere notion of Zoro and you being anything other than friends, great friends. “He’s like my brother, Sanji. You know that don’t you?”

“I guess so.”

He attempted to walk away but you held it tight. A million thoughts ran through your head, desperate, anxious thoughts. Were you misreading all the looks? Smiles across the room? God, where you that dense! Maybe it was all wrong, maybe he didn’t feel the way you did. Now you were embarrassed but there was something far worse than embarrassment – not knowing. That would be unbearable.

“Don’t walk away from me, please,” you whispered, releasing your grip on him. Your shaky voice prompted Sanji to finally turn, and he nearly gasped at the tears in your eyes. Any somber feelings he had for himself vanished as he stepped forward to wipe away tears with his thumb. Your hands moved around his wrists, forcing him to look at you. “I love you, Sanji. I have for a while now and I thought…. I thought there would be a chance that you’d feel the same. I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable and if you don’t feel the same, please can we still be friends?”

Pure relief.

That was all Sanji could feel as the warmth of your fingers around his wrist comforted him against the cool night breeze. His heart pounded as his eyes bore into yours and he never felt happier in his life. He smiled softly and let out a low breath, kicking himself internally for ever making you feel any sort of sadness.

“I’m sorry for making you cry; it will never happen again.” He slipped from your grip and gently held your face, thumb caressing your cheek. “I will always be your friend, but I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I love you more than I thought I could love anyone. I love you so much I was willingly to put aside my feelings when I thought Zoro and you were…”

“Never,” you chuckled, happy tears running down your face. Sanji grinned and begged you to stop crying. Nodding, you slipped both arms around his neck and leaned in for a kiss. He captured it with eyes closed and pulled you closer to him. His lips were soft, he tasted like cigarettes but that was to be expected and you could care less. Nothing mattered now that you were in Sanji’s arms, safe and warm. Loved and at ease. It felt ecstatic, electric – it felt like you were finally where you truly belonged.

Sanji pulled away and kissed you on the forehead, arms holding you tight. “So, you still want that coffee?”

“Yes, please,” you whispered into his chest. He reached up and caresses your hair, giving you another peck on the forehead before reaching down for your hand.

“Come one, I’ll make you a cup and you can keep me company while I finish up the dishes.”

“Oh, don’t worry about the dishes,” you cooed, dipping your head back to look up at Sanji. His eyes were soft again, loving. “Zoro’s finishing them up.”

The mere thought made the cook laugh and you joined in, allowing him to guide you toward the kitchen. He held your hand gingerly and grinned. “I can’t wait to see that Mosshead doing all the dishes.”

.....................

OP tags:

@stuckinthewrongworld

@slytherinambitious

#sanji x reader #black leg sanji #sanji #one piece

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fangirltothefullest · 7 months

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Taught the 3rd graders about three weeks ago how to play "old people home" on the playground which entails:

Using old people names like Old Mrs. Weatherby, Cat Lady Geroldine, Sea Captain Wentworth and Old Mr Johnson etc.

Telling everyone to get off their lawns

Asking for cookies made of prunes and wheat germ because its good for the digestion

Asking if people have seen where they lost their teeth

Using a silly old voice and complaining about their hips and backs being broken

Claiming to be at least 90 years old and above

Dishing out old people wisdom like dinosaurs love ear scratches.

Today at recess unprompted a whole bunch of them came up to me playing the game again, this time using hulahoops as canes, wheelchair wheels and walkers. One was using a ball and saying it was a hearing aid.

I fucking love it!

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muppet-facts · 2 months

Text

Muppet Fact #1016

From 1969 until around 2006, a sign hung up in Mr. Hooper's store advertising the various foods and beverages they had for sale as:

Desserts:

Jell-O, whipped cream - 80¢

Pound Cake, toasted ice cream - 90¢

Danish Pastry - 95¢

Cantaloupe, in season $1.00

Beverages

Coffee or tea - 50¢

Milk - 50¢

Iced coffee or tea - 70¢

Hot choc. whipped cream - 60¢

Juices

Orange juice - 65¢

Tomato - 65¢

Prune - 65¢

Source:

Sesame Street. Episode 4123. September 13, 2006.

#muppet facts oc #jim henson #the muppets #muppets #muppet facts #fun facts #sesame street #childrens tv

119 notes · View notes

jkabbi · 3 months

Text

bewitched | 01

╰┈➤summary: Former neighbors turned lovers, your enchanting romance with Jungkook takes a magical turn. A spell to protect him shapes your past, and now, as a flower shop owner, an unexpected reunion brings buried secrets to light. Past and present collide in a captivating tale of love and mystery.

╰┈➤pairing: jungkook x reader (f)

╰┈➤genre: cf2l, fluff, angst, magic au

╰┈➤warnings: just cursing and salem being a menance. also, jungkook hot ass back

word count. 8.4k

╰┈➤note; hi! this is my first fanfic and i was very nervous about publishing it. i had this idea for a while and i need it to share it. the fic has some touches of my favorite series (sabrina the teenage witch) but the plot is different and the characters (apart from salem).

alsoo, english isn’t my first language so writing this was a challenge but i hope its okay ;)

and thats all, i really wish u enjoy it and please be nice, this is my first time and im scared😭😭

next.

series masterlist

You consistently gravitated towards a wardrobe painted in familiar tones and patterns – greens, browns, blues, and yellows – with a penchant for clothing adorned by botanical or floral designs.

Yoongi used to make fun of you for it, although there was never a day that he didn't tell you that you looked good.

It was difficult to explain but your affinity for the colors could only be explained by your abilities.

Since you were little, you used to spend days in the sun in the grass, surrounded by trees and grasslands.

You loved playing with the butterflies that flew around or watching the birds that sang and flew freely. You used to talk to the fish that swam through the rivers or to the rabbits who hid in their burrows.

Your obsession with plants also did not diminish with the passage of time; Always worried that the flowers in your aunt's garden were well cared for—including the plants of other neighbors around—you used to water them, sing to them, and prune them.

Surely that obsession guided you to own your own flower shop.

You also used to have great pride in having so much knowledge of them, especially when you were a little girl, since you used to help the ladies in your neighborhood with their plants, giving them advice and tips to take care of them.

Especially one, who was your neighbor next door.

Mrs. Jeon was a pleasant woman, with pretty features and very affectionate towards you.

She was a housewife and had two children; Junghyung and Jungkook. Although you didn't interact much with them.

You still remembered the day the Jeons moved into the house next door.

It was summer and you were returning from your adventures in the forest near the neighborhood, where you talked to the small animals and encouraged green life to grow.

When you turned onto your street, you could see a large moving truck in the house next to yours. Curious, you arrived at your front yard and watched as the movers walked in and out of the house with furniture and boxes.

Before you could watch a family get out of a family car, your aunt Binna called you from the entrance to go take a shower for lunch.

Reluctantly, you left, not before taking a look back.

Years later and you still have the same feeling of warmth that you received every time you remembered the past.

“Why are you smiling at the shovel?”

That's where your memory lane ends. Behind you was Yoongi, who had a small philodendron in his arms.

“Why couldn't I smile at the shovel?” you retorted, leaving the shovel on the counter and sitting up.

Yoongi chuckled, shrugging casually. “I've always known you have a few screws loose. Feel free to continue charming the shovel.”

Mirroring his smile, you quipped, “Thanks for the endorsement, my esteemed companion. You'll be the honored guest at our shovel-themed wedding.”

Setting the plant by the large window, Yoongi fetched his water sprayer from his apron pocket. “I feel truly appreciated,” he replied, misting the green leaves.

From the spacious wooden counter, you opened your laptop, checking the latest email – an order for an outdoor wedding floral arrangement.

“We've got another order,” you informed from your seat.

“For what occasion?” Yoongi abandoned the sprayer, approaching curiously.

“A wedding,” you replied, studying the details.

“Another one?” Your friend leaned beside you.

You shifted for him to read the screen. “At least they're giving us four months," you nodded.

“And the payment is good,” you added. “Our end-of-year getaway might happen after all.”

Yoongi smiled beside you as you bounced with excitement. It might not be a lavish affair, but you cherished the yearly trip with Yoongi and his partner to a quiet seaside town.

A serene ambiance enveloped the place, with only a handful of individuals, and in winter, it turned into a magical haven.

(It was also a place full of magic, but that was a detail that you left hidden)

“Well, in any case, we should celebrate,” Yoongi stood up, heading towards the door to switch the sign from open to closed.

You stretched in your seat and agreed. “What's on the agenda for today? I was thinking of bringing some cakes from Jimin's favorite bakery for our movie night.”

“Oh, about that..." Yoongi hesitated, “Jimin texted me. He's inviting a friend from his college days to join us tonight. Is that okay? I mean, I know you're not a fan of meeting new people, and if you prefer, I can suggest postponing the gathering to tomorrow.”

Taking the broom, you looked at Yoongi affectionately. “It's fine, Yoongs. If he's Jimin's friend, I'm sure I'll get along with him.”

Worry etched Yoongi's expression. “Are you sure? I mean, in the hierarchy of friendships, you come first. Jimin could easily rearrange his plans for us tonight and meet his friend tomorrow.”

Giggling, you enjoyed seeing how much Yoongi cared. “Don't worry. I'm a big girl. I can handle Jimin's college buddies.”

Yoongi smiled in relief. “Alright, but do let me know if you feel uncomfortable or anything.”

“Okey dokey,”you said, raising your palm.

“Okey dokey,” Yoongi replied, giving you a high-five.

The relentless July sun bore down on your head.

Frustrated by the forgotten hat at home, you silently headed to the bakery.

After buying Jimin's favorite cakes —a mixture capable of putting you in a diabetic coma—you headed towards your friends' apartment, which was a few blocks away.

Your friends' neighborhood was your favorite place to visit.

It was a residential area, which was always in perfect condition.

Grand and expansive, the houses stood adorned with enchanting gardens—a sight that never failed to captivate you. Each residence was meticulously maintained, but it was a particular house that unfailingly left you in awe. A colonial masterpiece, it boasted a white facade adorned with vibrant red tiles. Cascading vines adorned the balcony, reaching down to the floor in a display of elegance. What truly set it apart was the magnificent garden, a vibrant canvas of fiery-hued flowers and exquisite sculptures. It spoke volumes about the refined taste of the person fortunate enough to call it home.

Having successfully banished any lingering awe, you reached the enchanting street where your friends resided. Courtesies exchanged with the concierge, you gracefully entered the awaiting elevator, confidently selecting the sixth floor with a soft chime resonating in the enclosed space.

Underneath your composed exterior, a subtle current of nervous anticipation flowed.

It wasn't a matter of feeling overwhelmed by strangers; rather, your unease stemmed from a lack of familiarity with personal social interactions, even though you navigated such dynamics daily in your professional life.

Your inclination leaned toward maintaining a small, close-knit circle of friends, an approach that steered you away from embracing new connections. However, the person you were about to encounter wasn't just a mere stranger but an integral figure in Jimin's life. You were steadfast in your resolve not to burden Jimin with the dilemma of choosing between friends, an ardent desire to avoid becoming a source of disappointment.

Driven by the profound aversion to letting down your friends, you made a conscious decision to present a facade of normalcy for the impending meeting. It was a commitment to navigate through the evening with an air of ease, recognizing that, in the grand tapestry of life, this was merely a single night – a challenge that, with resilience, you believed you could gracefully overcome.

As you reached the designated floor, you traversed the pristine, white hallway, and with a gentle knock, you announced your arrival at the penultimate door. After a brief pause, the door swung open, revealing Jimin's golden locks.

“____!” he exclaimed, “I'm thrilled you could make it!”

A wide smile graced your face. “It's wonderful to see you too. I brought some pastries.”

Jimin reciprocated the smile. “If I weren't gay, I'd definitely kiss you!”

Amused, you laughed and stepped into their apartment. The ambiance of Jimin and Yoongi's residence exuded a youthful yet elegant charm, reflecting both your best friend's personality and that of his partner.

“Come on, Yoongi is busy preparing some meat on the balcony,” the blonde guided you.

“Ah, you've made it,” Yoongi greeted. “I thought you'd be melting in this heat.”

You snorted, “Don't even mention it. I absorbed the last rays of the day's sun on my way here.”

“I offered to pick you up by car,” Yoongi scolded, brandishing his grill knife.

You playfully dismissed him with a wave of your hand. “I know, I know. But I didn't want to distract you, and besides, I enjoy the walk. It adds a magical touch to the whole experience.”

“You're unbelievably stubborn,” Yoongi teased.

To that, you simply shrugged your shoulders, embracing your determined nature.

“What's the heated discussion about?” Jimin interjected, holding a couple of beer cans.

“How intolerable this brat can be,” Yoongi grumbled.

Jimin chuckled, extending a can towards you. You graciously accepted, and the blonde headed to his boyfriend, delivering the other can.

“By the way, Yoongles mentioned you invited a friend from college,” you remarked.

Jimin settled beside you. “Oh, yes, I apologize for not informing you earlier. I know you're not a fan of mingling with strangers, but Yoongi assured me everything is fine.”

You nodded. “No need to worry; I'm perfectly fine with it.”

Jimin visibly relaxed. “Great! You don't have to stress about anything. My friend is not only nice but also incredibly funny.”

Smiling, you inquired, “Were you two very close friends?”

Jimin reclined in his chair, looking at you with evident happiness.

“The connection we shared was extraordinary. Despite his initial shyness, he gradually transformed into a popular figure. Sadly, we lost touch after graduating, and a year ago, he embarked on a global adventure. Now, he's back,” Jimin revealed, his eyes reflecting the depth of their friendship.

“That's truly wonderful. I've always dreamed of an extensive journey myself,” you shared.

Jimin nodded, disclosing, “I followed his captivating journey through his Instagram. His photography gained significant acclaim.”

“Photography, you say?” you inquired.

“Yes, even though his academic focus was in computer science,” Jimin explained, sipping his beer.

“That's remarkable. I'm genuinely happy to hear that his life has taken such a positive turn,” you remarked.

Jimin's emotions seemed to shift. “He's been through a lot, and witnessing his growth brings me immense joy.”

Before you could respond, the doorbell rang, prompting Jimin to leap up.

“It must be him!”

“He appears quite excited.” You noted, then turned to your friend, who was occupied with browning the meat.

“Yes, Jimin told me that his friend had a crisis and that's why he left for a year. Apparently he's a good guy and you know how Jimin is, too sensitive with those he loves.”

“Jimin has been an exceptional friend. I consider myself fortunate to have crossed paths with him,” you expressed sincerely.

A look of profound affection from Yoongi reinforced the warmth of the bond you shared with both of them.

“He's equally delighted to have you in his life, Bub,” Yoongi assured, a sentiment that brought a genuine smile to your face. In a life where you consciously kept your circle compact, the presence of Yoongi and Jimin proved to be the most precious and enriching.

In the midst of your conversation with Yoongi, the imminent return of Jimin momentarily slipped your mind. The air was filled with a blend of voices, among which Jimin's curiosity stood out.

“It's very quiet living here! Are you planning to look for something similar?” You heard Jimin’s voice.

However, the response was drowned out as the balcony door swung open with a resonant creak. Gathering mental fortitude, you adorned your best smile in anticipation.

“Hi, I’m…” you couldn't finish your sentence because you froze.

As you faltered in your attempt to introduce yourself, a sudden surge of paralysis gripped you, freezing your words on the precipice. The room hung suspended in a disconcerting silence, amplifying the tumult within. The boundary between jest and reality blurred, leaving you grappling with a maelstrom of emotions – the impulse to scream, the yearning to shed tears, and an inexplicable urge to escape. Your body, however, betrayed you, caught in a rigid state, joints locked, breath arrested, mirroring the stillness of your heart.

Swift to recognize your distress, Yoongi deftly intervened, redirecting the unfolding awkwardness.

“Hello! I'm Yoongi, Jimin's partner,” he declared, striding purposefully towards the newcomers. To diffuse the palpable tension, he continued, “And this is my best friend, ____,” punctuated by a subtle nod from you.

The newcomers responded with a tentative smile, their composure visibly unsettled. The girl, attuned to her boyfriend's wandering gaze on your figure, diplomatically interjected.

“Hello! I'm Jiwoo, Jungkook's fiancée,” she proclaimed with an air of gentle formality. The weight of the term "fiancée" lingered, resonating deeply in your thoughts.

Jeon Jungkook has a fiancée.

Jimin orchestrated the seating arrangement, placing them beside you. In this surreal juncture, Jungkook introduced himself, his voice an echoing remembrance from the past. Summoning the courage to meet his gaze for the first time since his arrival, you found your breath arrested by the sight of his face, an unsettling pause enveloping the room.

Standing before you was a man whose stature surpassed your recollection, a towering presence accentuated by his impressive height and robust frame. Cascading down his shoulders, his once-familiar dark hair now framed a countenance marked by the passage of time. The revelation of an intricate tapestry of tattoos adorning his arm became apparent, unveiled by the sleeves of his short black t-shirt.

Yet, it was the constancy of his gaze that struck the most profound chord within you. Despite the exchange of words with Jimin, his doe-eyed stare remained unwavering, anchoring your attention in an unsettling and unwelcome connection.

Overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, unable to endure another second in the shared space where their gazes lingered, you gracefully excused yourself. A swift retreat led you to the refuge of the bathroom, seeking solace within its walls as the echoes of their continued scrutiny lingered in your wake.

As your anxiety reached a fever pitch, its palpable effects reverberated in the environment. The handwash faucet, seemingly responding to your heightened state, unexpectedly opened by itself, and the bathroom window flapped vigorously, propelled by an unforeseen gust of wind.

With your heart pounding relentlessly in your chest, you managed to slide down the cool tiles of the bathroom wall, seeking solace on the floor. The overwhelming pressure pushed you into a state of vulnerability.

Recalling the advice from Aunt Yoon's lessons, you instinctively covered your ears with your hands and shut your eyes, resting your head on your knees. Familiar voices echoed in your mind, guiding you to find composure amid the storm of emotions.

In an attempt to regain control, you focused on slow, deliberate breaths. As you exhaled, you directed your attention to the bathroom light. With a graceful sweep of your hand, you extinguished its glow, enveloping yourself in complete darkness, except for the soft illumination seeping through the window.

Within this shadowed cocoon, you conjured a small halo of light with your hands, orchestrating its gentle movements. This newfound distraction allowed you to redirect your focus, creating intricate animal shapes within the luminous halo.

Gratitude welled up as the calming effects of this self-imposed light show permeated your senses, coaxing your pulse back to a more manageable rhythm. Amidst the mental whining for teleportation powers, a shadow beneath the door brought you back to reality.

A delicate knock followed, the sound reverberating through the bathroom.

“Are you okay, Bub?” It was Yoongi.

Contemplating your next move, you acknowledged the inevitability of leaving the bathroom sanctuary. With a sigh of resignation, you rose to your feet and opened the bathroom door, prepared to face the outside world once more.

In the clarity of the room, your friend's worried expression was evident.

“Yes,” you managed to respond, your voice carrying a subtle tremor.

Observing your condition, Yoongi's skepticism lingered, although he refrained from pressing the matter further.

“I don't feel very well. I suspect it was something I ate. Can you excuse me to Jimin and his guests? I don't want to appear rude,” you admitted, attempting to convey sincerity despite the weakness in your words.

Yoongi maintained a neutral expression, nodding in acknowledgment. “I'll go get my keys. Wait for me here.”

Your immediate protest burst forth, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “No! I'm sorry, but I believe it's better for me to go alone. It's not too late, and the fresh air might alleviate my discomfort.”

Raising his eyebrows, your friend expressed concern, “Are you sure you're okay? Should I take you to the hospital?”

Offering a reassuring thumbs-up, you dismissed the trembling in your hands. “Everything is fine; I just feel a little dizzy and tired.”

Before Yoongi could interject, Jimin's voice echoed from outside. “Go,” you urged tensely, “I'll be fine. Just excuse me from Jimin.”

A complex array of emotions played across your friend's face, showcasing his inner struggle. After a few contemplative seconds, he sighed. “Okay, go, but be careful. Let me know when you arrive, and if you feel unwell, don't hesitate to call.”

Embracing him briefly, you departed the apartment swiftly, propelled by a sense of urgency that matched the pace of your footsteps.

With a hasty nod to the doorman, you left the haven of your friends' neighborhood, exhaling a sigh of relief. Under the cloak of night, you found solace in the anonymity it granted, allowing a cathartic scream of frustration to escape into the open air.

Unmindful of the sidelong glances from passersby, you surrendered to the maelstrom of emotions within. The night became a silent confidant to your inner turmoil, and the unbridled tears mirrored the tempest of feelings that engulfed you.

Despite knowing you should control yourself, especially since today's forecast didn't include torrential rain, you ignored this. You didn't bother hiding your magic, which triggered a downpour the moment you left Jimin's apartment.

Facing the reality of your evasive tendencies, you couldn't deny the stark truth about your emotional susceptibilities, a trait often criticized by Aunt Yoon as a vulnerability. In your solitude, your tear-streaked face and swollen, reddened eyes painted a vivid portrait of vulnerability—a deviation from familial expectations. Yet, in this nocturnal moment, it was only the gaze of strangers that bore witness to your emotional upheaval.

As you reclined in the bathtub, contemplating the unexpected encounter with Jungkook, a whirlwind of emotions engulfed you. Surprisingly, Salem, your usually mischievous cat, lay perched on the bath chair, radiating an uncharacteristic air of understanding – a stark departure from his typical penchant for mockery.

It dawned on you that Salem was privy to the intricacies of your history with Jungkook, intimately aware of the emotions that resurfaced during the encounter. His unspoken support, though unexpected, held a unique depth, a testament to the unbreakable bond between you and your feline confidant.

With a deep sigh, you decided to share more details with Salem, letting your feelings spill out like water from a broken dam. “I never imagined he would come back into my life. Not after all this time,” you confessed, your voice tinged with vulnerability.

Salem listened intently, his green eyes reflecting a mixture of curiosity and sympathy. “Life has a funny way of surprising us,” he mused, his tail swaying gently.

You nodded. “I just wish I could have been more composed when I saw him. Instead, I froze like a deer caught in headlights and ran away.”

The cat brushed against your arm, a gesture of reassurance. “It happens to the best of us. Emotions are messy, especially when it comes to matters of the heart.”

You couldn't argue with that. Jungkook's presence had stirred up a whirlwind of memories, both happy and painful. “I thought I had moved on,” you admitted, running your fingers through the water absentmindedly. “But seeing him again brought everything back.”

Salem, ever the sage advisor, offered his perspective. “Moving on doesn't mean forgetting. It means learning to live with the memories without letting them control you.”

His words resonated with you, providing a sliver of clarity amid the emotional turmoil. “I know, Salem. I need to face this too, even if it feels like reopening old wounds.”

“I'm surprised you accepted this so quickly,” your cat confessed.

You sighed slowly, playing with the soap bubbles.

“I have to, apparently Jimin adores Jungkook. That means I'll have to run into him at least one more time,” you growled.

Salem laughed, throwing his head back showing his white fangs.

“You talk like it's strange that Jungkook is charming to everyone.”

You gave him a knife-sharp look. “Of course I know Jungkook is charming. I knew it from the first moment I saw him”

Your cat looked at you mockingly “I see that your jealousy is still active.”

You threw water at him, making him hiss at you.

“Careful with this beautiful fur, human girl!” Salem looked at himself, looking for any part of his body that was wet.

“I'm not jealous,” you replied.

“Yeah, of course,” your cat replied sarcastically. “As if you didn't suffer a mental breakdown every time Jungkook went to tutor that Cheerleader that you didn't like.”

You got up offended, spilling some water that overflowed onto the floor.

“For the love of Satan! Stop throwing water on the ground!”

You giggled but with a snap, you dried the wet floor without much difficulty.

“Better?”

Salem sighed irritably, but let it go. He knew that you were still affected by the events that occurred a few hours ago.

“I'm sorry,” you looked at him with your bright eyes, on the verge of tears. “It's just that I missed him so much and seeing him there was like my soul returning to my body.”

Salem nodded, his cat-like eyes focused on your trembling countenance. “I understand, although you must also remember that it's not the boy's fault that he hasn't seen you for almost ten years.”

You screeched in frustration. “I know! That's why I'm mad at myself." You clenched your fists. “I'm not being fair, I know.”

In seconds, hot tears of helplessness fell from your eyes.

You had cried so much that you felt like you were running dry, although you preferred to cry naked in your bathtub with your talking cat as a witness than cry like a loser in the streets with the pouring rain.

Salem nudged your hand with his head, a gesture that felt oddly comforting. A small smile played on your lips.

“I appreciate having you around,” you whispered gently. “Despite our occasional squabbles that resemble sibling rivalry, I find joy in having you as a part of my life.”

You and Salem remained in the bathroom, a peculiar duo bound by a history that transcended the ordinary human-pet relationship. The atmosphere softened, and Salem, with a twitch of his tail, broke the silence.

“You know, for a human, you're not half bad,” Salem teased, his green eyes glinting mischievously.

Rolling your eyes, you retorted, “And for a cat, you're surprisingly sentimental.”

Salem nudged your hand playfully, “Only for you, _____. But don't let it go to your head.”

You chuckled, grateful for the levity he brought to the moment. “I won't. So, any plans on how to deal with the Jungkook situation?”

Salem feigned contemplation, his tail swaying side to side. “Well, we could start with not throwing water on the floor every time you're annoyed.”

You laughed, “Fair enough. I'll work on that.”

As you began to drain the bathtub, Salem leaped down, pacing around the bathroom like he owned the place. “Remember, we're in this together, Human. I'm not letting you face the Jungkook dilemma alone.”

With a smirk, you replied, “Good to know, Cat. Teammates, right?”

“Teammates,” he affirmed, and as you stepped out of the bathroom, you couldn't help but appreciate the unique bond you shared with your sassy feline friend. Little did you know, the challenges ahead would only strengthen the unspoken understanding between you and Salem, making your friendship an unexpected source of strength in the face of life's unpredictable twists.

Indulging in an emotional outpour in the midst of a torrential downpour probably wasn't the wisest choice, and now you found yourself grappling with the repercussions of that impulsive decision.

Pain reverberated through your skull like an explosive symphony, each beat an agonizing pulse. Swollen to the point of incapacity, your eyes resisted attempts to open, trapped in the clutches of the affliction tormenting your body. A relentless cough seized you, each convulsion intensifying the already distressing situation.

The warmth radiating from your skin forewarned of an impending fever, threatening to pull you into the abyss of its debilitating embrace at any given moment. As discomfort layered upon discomfort, your physical state became an intricate tapestry of misery, weaving together the threads of throbbing pain, swollen eyes, and an unrelenting cough.

The incessant playback of ABBA's melodic tunes only intensified the predicament. Feeling utterly disheartened and shrouded in darkness, you impulsively struck your nightstand, yearning to silence the persistently chirpy alarm – a feat that proved elusive.

“Salem!” you bellowed in frustration, confident your feline companion was alert. Typically, at this hour, Salem reveled in observing the morning skirmishes between your neighbors, perched contentedly by the window. After a brief pause, you sensed the delicate touch of small paws on the wooden floor, followed by a graceful leap.

“What happened to your face?” inquired your concerned cat, gracefully traversing the expanse of the bed. Emitting a weary sigh, you replied, “What do you think?!” dripping with ironic exasperation. “Could you kindly put an end to the ABBA serenade? It's throbbing in my head.”

“I thought you'd never ask. I was on the verge of contemplating a window escape,” Salem quipped and a welcome hush settled in as the music ceased, leaving behind a palpable tranquility.

“Your appearance is rather dire,” mused your cat. “I'll venture into Binna's ancient cookbook, see if there's a remedy for your congestion and eyes.” With that, your feline companion gracefully exited the room, leaving you alone with the weight of your thoughts.

A peculiar sensation enveloped you, a departure from the serene routine you cherished. Yesterday's surreal events disrupted your tranquility, plunging you into an unexpected maelstrom. As stress mounted, the realization dawned: today, opening the store was an improbable feat. You resigned yourself to the inevitable task of informing Yoongi about your illness.

Contemplating calling him, you hesitated, anticipating his inevitable arrival at your apartment. After leaving you to your own devices yesterday, the gravity of recent events ensured he wouldn't let another moment elapse without seeking an explanation. You understood the futility of avoiding the impending conversation; Yoongi's familiarity with you meant evasion was a futile endeavor.

The internal conflict intensified. While you sought to shield your secrets, not for your sake but for the safety of those around you, memories surfaced of the last time an unwitting innocent had stumbled upon your hidden truths. The stakes were higher, and the delicate balance between disclosure and protection hung in the uneasy silence of your apartment.

The internal turmoil dissipated with a knock on your front door, a sure sign that it was Yoongi. Despite your initial inclination to feign slumber and play ignorant, you dismissed the unfairness of such tactics. Struggling against your physical discomfort, you made your way to the door, relying on muscle memory to navigate the lock on the first attempt.

“Hello,” you greeted him, your voice laced with drowsiness. As the silence lingered, your anxiety mounted. “Tell me you're Yoongi and not a stranger.”

Assured by his familiar voice, you sighed in relief when Yoongi confirmed his identity. "It's me, Daisy,” he reassured, but concern etched his features. “What happened to you?! Do you need help?”

Before you could dismiss his offer, Yoongi's hands gently grasped your shoulders, guiding you back into the apartment. “You should have told me you were like this!” he exclaimed, a mix of frustration and worry evident in his tone. “Go to bed, let me prepare some herbal water and soup.”

Attempting nonchalance, you responded, “It's okay. Salem is taking care of it,” the words slipping out without much thought. Heading towards your room, you realized Yoongi wasn't following.

“What's going on?” you questioned.

“How is Salem going to take care of that?” Yoongi pressed, seeking clarification.

In a quick mental scramble, you conjured an excuse. “You know I like to joke about Salem being almost like a person,” you explained, hoping he would attribute your words to the haze of illness. Yoongi relaxed slightly, accepting the explanation. “Okay, let's go,” he agreed, unknowingly stepping into a web of secrets and feigned normalcy.

You found solace in the eccentricity of your speech and demeanor, knowing that Yoongi rarely took your statements seriously. “I guess this is about last night,” he remarked, momentarily halting your steps.

“Uh, yeah, about that…” you hesitated, reaching your unkempt bed where Yoongi dutifully set about fixing the disarrayed bedding, tenderly covering you.

“I'm sorry,” you murmured, opening your eyes just a sliver, the figure of your friend a bit blurred.

“Why?” he inquired, settling on the edge of the bed beside you.

“For being a lousy friend,” you confessed.

Yoongi chuckled. “Why do you think you're a lousy friend?”

A lingering silence enveloped the room as internal debate raged on. The decision to divulge or withhold weighed heavily on your mind, yet the fear of losing Yoongi eclipsed the burden of guilt.

“Last night,” you began, releasing a fraction of the truth.

“I can't say I don't care, but the truth is, I don't know what happened with you last night.”

Observing your uncertain expression, Yoongi placed his hand atop yours. “It's okay if you don't want to tell me, but if you need someone to share those things with, you know you have me.” His reassurance offered a comforting anchor in the tempest of secrets and unspoken words.

“It’s not that! It's just that…” you blurted out, grappling to organize your thoughts. “It's hard to tell you this.”

Yoongi's expression shifted to surprise. “Is it something bad? Although it hurts me a little to think that you can't tell me things.”

“No!” you blurted out again. “I mean, it's not a bad thing, but it is a secret—something I haven't shared with anyone. I can't leave you with that weight on your shoulders. I care about you deeply, and this is a very old personal issue of mine.”

Yoongi sighed, his touch on your hand offering a reassurance. “I understand that you have secrets and everything, but I need you to trust me. Whatever it is, I can handle it.”

Frustration welled up within you. You comprehended your friend's earnestness, and part of you yearned to unburden yourself, seeking refuge in his understanding like a vulnerable child. Yet, the weight of the secrets, particularly this one, loomed heavily.

“I trust you with my life,” you asserted firmly. “Don't ever think that I don't trust you. But this is delicate, and I don't want to put you in danger, okay? It's for your own good. I need you to understand.” Your hand found his, emphasizing the gravity of your words, seeking a connection that transcended spoken language in the complexity of shared trust and unspoken fears.

Yoongi's gaze lingered on the juncture where your hands met his. Your small, pale hands, adorned with various scars, each a testament to childhood mishaps, contrasting sharply with his own larger, slender fingers—resembling those of a pianist, unmarred by any blemish.

Having known you for about five years, Yoongi recalled his initial impression of you as a girl thrust into the adult world, seemingly vulnerable yet never to be underestimated. Physically unassuming, you harbored an indomitable strength within. Even on the brink of collapse, you seldom sought assistance, always striving to navigate challenges independently.

Your independence, strong will, and stubbornness were palpable, complemented by a warmth and genuine concern for your loved ones. Despite the tough exterior, Yoongi understood that you harbored a complex relationship with your family—a topic shrouded in silence, as if you had grown up in solitude.

Yoongi sighed, breaking the contemplative silence. “It's okay. I understand. But when you're ready, please tell me. Otherwise, I don't know how to help you, kiddo.” Despite your persistent self-reliance, he emphasized his commitment to ensuring your well-being.

The unspoken bond between you and Yoongi transcended mere friendship; it was a pact of mutual support, a promise that echoed in the intertwining of your hands—a connection that conveyed a shared understanding even in the face of undisclosed burdens.

Giving him a warm smile, you say, “I've got you, Yoongi. When the time's right, I'll spill all the beans. I Appreciate you rolling with the punches in my life and being the constant in all the chaos. You're my rock, Yoongi.”

A spark of anticipation ignites within you, and you can't help but feel a renewed sense of connection. You eagerly await the day when you can share your truths with Yoongi, not just because it's necessary, but because he's earned the right to know the intricacies of your heart. Until then, the unspoken bond between you two will continue to strengthen, paving the way for a future where your shared trust transcends the undisclosed burdens you carry.

The weight of the term "coward" bore down on you, a bitter truth you grappled with. In refusing your friends' invitations, you felt the sting of guilt, recognizing the unfairness of your actions. Yet, each declination seemed like a desperate attempt to shield them from the mysterious reality you were living.

Deep down, you were keenly aware that Yoongi harbored suspicions about your enigmatic secret and your reluctance to join gatherings since Jungkook's return. But so far, he chose to maintain a respectful silence, understanding the complexity of your situation. You knew that inevitably, you would have to face them or reveal the truth, a daunting prospect that loomed on the horizon of your clandestine reality.

Lost in contemplation, you found solace in the transformative touch of your magic on a calla lily's withered leaves. The visual metamorphosis from faded yellow to vivid green offered a momentary escape from the turmoil within.

The idea of visiting a neglected park to tend to the forsaken plants flickered in your thoughts. However, your recent weeks had dwindled into a mundane routine—shuttling between your apartment and work with little room for spontaneity.

Salem, your feline confidant, dismissed your cautious approach, deeming you a “scared chicken.” Yet, Salem wasn't navigating the unpredictable streets, fearing an accidental reunion with a former love entwined with his fiancée.

Seeking refuge in the familiar, your nights were painted with Gilmore Girls marathons, a shared ritual with Salem. In this routine, you found a fragment of normalcy, although Salem's affinity for reality shows, particularly the extravagantly dramatic ones, wasn't lost on you—typical of a devoted Jersey Shore fan.

On one of those nights, there you were, clad in bunny pajamas and cocooned beneath a soft, pink blanket. Salem, your feline companion, lounged nearby, sporting cucumbers over his eyes as he reclined in an armchair atop a plush pillow.

“I don't understand why Rory makes such a big deal about being with that cute boy,” Salem remarked, his feline skepticism directed at the TV screen.

You sighed, your attention captivated by the unfolding drama on the television. “Well, Rory is classified as a good girl, and he's a bad boy, as they say,” you attempted to rationalize the protagonist's actions.

Salem sighed dramatically, almost dislodging one of the cucumbers from his eyes. “These children today with their labels. That's not a bad boy! Having a bad personality and doing unexpected things is not being bad. In my human era, I used to set houses on fire for fun.”

You couldn't help but glance at your cat, suppressing a laugh. “Salem, the difference is that he simply behaves badly socially. You, on the other hand, wanted to dominate the world.”

Offended, Salem shifted, grabbing a corn cap and defiantly placing it in his mouth. “What's wrong with wanting to take over the world? I was honestly doing all you vapid humans a favor.”

You sighed, fully aware that attempting to alter your cat's worldview was a futile endeavor. Despite his occasional moral quirks, his loyalty to you remained unwavering, even if his ethical compass was a bit unconventional.

Salem chimed in, dismissing the idea of Rory choosing her boyfriend over the 'bad boy.' “Anyway, she'd be stupid to choose her idiot boyfriend over the 'bad boy,'” Salem quipped, offering his feline commentary on the TV drama.

Casually grabbing a handful of popcorn, you nodded in agreement. “I can't deny that. Jess is very charming.”

Salem burst into laughter. “You always fall for the character like him,” he teased, capturing the essence of your penchant for captivating personalities.

You shrugged, acknowledging Salem's astute observation. Personality, indeed, held considerable weight in your assessments. However, a somber undertone enveloped the room as your cat uttered, “Although Jungkook was a different story.”

Salem, quick to rectify any potential discomfort, clarified, “I mean, Jungkook wasn't a bad boy, but he was very charming.”

A bittersweet smile played on your lips. Salem's words rang true – Jungkook was undeniably charming. In fact, “charming” had been his nickname during your past relationship. His allure extended beyond his striking physical features to his dark, captivating eyes. Yet, it was his multifaceted personality that truly distinguished him. Jungkook, a gentleman and a hopeless romantic, possessed a charisma that left an indelible mark.

However, the charm didn't diminish his playful side – a penchant for competition and teasing that brought both joy and occasional exasperation. The memories of those moments played like a silent film, evoking a mix of nostalgia and the inevitable ache that accompanied thoughts of Jungkook.

Your talking cat, astutely perceiving the direction of your thoughts, chose to intervene. “It's late. My dream of beauty awaits me,” he declared, nonchalantly removing the cucumbers from his eyes, as if signaling the end of his entertainment.

You absentmindedly nodded in response. “Hey brat, you should go to sleep. Your dark circles are getting worse every day,” your cat stated, taking a few steps into his designated space.

As always, your cat's acerbic comments carried an underlying truth. Your dark circles, silent witnesses to your restless nights, had indeed become more pronounced. It wasn't that you were resistant to the idea of sleep; it was just that ever since the unexpected encounter with Jungkook, restful slumber had eluded you. Moreover, an inexplicable fatigue had settled into your bones, leaving your body more exhausted than usual.

The nightly escapades with Gilmore Girls and Salem's company, while comforting, couldn't completely mask the deeper anxieties that lingered beneath the surface. As you stood on the precipice between wakefulness and dreams, the echoes of the past and the uncertainties of the present converged, casting shadows that manifested as visible signs on your weary face.

Yoongi had mentioned his and Jimin's trip to his parents' house, but it only fully registered today when he sent a message reminding you that, for the day, you would be the sole occupant of the store.

Luckily, you were already en route, having woken up ahead of the alarm. Mornings held a special allure for you, a time when the world seemed brimming with possibilities. The birds serenaded from the trees, the plants stirred to life, eager for a morning sunbath, and people bustled about, preparing for their day.

Fortune favored you, as the day unfolded with a surprising calmness, sparing you from a hectic workload. Capitalizing on the tranquil atmosphere, you decided to close up shop early and head home, intending to invite your cat for a leisurely outing.

Salem, seemed overjoyed at the prospect, his daily entertainment having temporarily moved away—the neighbors next door.

You adorned yourself in a thin dress adorned with vibrant flower patterns, the perfect attire for basking in the sunny day. A diligent application of sunscreen followed, a necessary precaution for your sensitive skin.

However, Salem's animal instincts prevented him from roaming freely without a leash. Although not a conventional cat, his unpredictable nature necessitated a careful approach. As you prepared to take him out, the anticipation of a sunlit excursion filled the air, promising a serene interlude amidst the routine of your day.

“Do you prefer that we go to the park near the center or the one near this sector?” you inquired, capitalizing on the deserted streets to engage in a conversation with Salem.

Salem's tail swayed as he noticed bugs fluttering near some flowers. “Let's go to the one close to your friends' neighborhood. Let's take advantage of the fact that they're not in the city,” he responded absentmindedly.

Enthusiastically, you and your cat set off in that direction. The park near your friends' neighborhood held a special charm—beautiful, serene, and known for its delightful ice cream offerings.

Upon arrival, you witnessed the expansive park filled with families enjoying their leisure time. Opting to settle near the pet-friendly area, you and Salem joined the ranks of others with the same intention.

As you observed, puppies frolicked joyfully, engaging in playful antics, while cats gracefully navigated their designated climbing structures. Salem, for once, seemed poised for a predator's pursuit, his back raised and gaze fixed intently on the grass.

Seating yourself, you embraced the idyllic scene, the carefree interactions of pets mirroring the leisurely afternoon unfolding around you.

After a delightful stint at the pet-friendly section, you suggested to Salem that it was time for ice cream—an idea that sparked shared excitement. The ice cream stand in this park had a well-deserved reputation for its delightful treats.

As you traversed the park toward the exercise area, the ice cream cart came into view, attended by an elderly gentleman exuding warmth. “Hello,” you greeted. “Can you give me two ice cream cones, please?” You opted for the classic strawberry and vanilla combination, while Salem subtly indicated—keeping it hush-hush from the vendor—his preference for chocolate and cookie flavor.

Equipped with your chosen delights, both of you sought refuge from the heat under the shade in the nearby area.

“There are quite a few humans exercising,” Salem observed between licks of his ice cream, which you held out for him.

You nodded, your mouth occupied with the delectable treat. In the vicinity, exercise platforms hosted several people, likely part of a group that gathered for communal workouts. The gusty afternoon wind played its part, occasionally obstructing your view as you contended with strands of hair billowing into your face.

Amidst bites of ice cream and the distant hum of exercise enthusiasts, you and Salem reveled in the simple joy of a sunlit day, punctuated by the sweet indulgence of shared treats.

The tranquility surrounding you shattered abruptly when Salem, positioned next to you, nearly dropped his ice cream. “What happened to you?” you inquired in surprise, brushing strands of hair out of your face.

As your vision cleared, you observed your cat, seemingly paralyzed by something in his line of sight. Following his gaze, you discovered the source of his astonishment—a muscular figure executing pull-ups on some bars. However, your fortune took a turn for the worse as you recognized the specimen to be none other than Jungkook.

His sweaty back adhered to a tight black t-shirt, elevating the temperature on your cheeks. While you had always been aware of Jungkook's well-maintained physique, your mental image had been anchored in his teenage years, not this embodiment of masculinity.

“Damn,” you and Salem echoed simultaneously. As you continued to gawk, your grip faltered, leading to the unfortunate demise of your ice cream. Yet, your attention remained captivated by the man before you.

An involuntary reaction stirred between your legs—a sensation dormant for far too long. However, the enchantment was abruptly disrupted by the barking of a large dog nearby. Panic set in; you were with Salem, and despite his mischievous tendencies in his golden age, he remained a cat.

Swiftly scooping up your feline companion, you used your magic to clean the fallen ice cream with a single hand.

In a near sprint, you attempted to escape the scene swiftly, but your efforts were thwarted as the same barking dog bolted towards you at full speed. Closing your eyes in fear, you clutched Salem tightly to your chest, shielding him from potential harm.

“Fuckin-!” Salem's protest was muffled as you squeezed him even tighter. Panicking, you beseeched the approaching dog, “Oh, cute little dog! Good dog! Don't eat my cat, please!”

To your relief, instead of feeling sharp teeth, the dog leaped onto you, licking you eagerly and wagging its tail with unbridled joy. As you cautiously opened your eyes, you found the little dog gazing at you happily, devoid of any malevolent intentions.

Before you could identify the source of the new voice, the dog leapt off you. “I'm sorry! I promise he doesn't have any bad intentions; he's just very playful!” the owner explained.

“Don't worry…” you began, only to be interrupted as you locked eyes with your unexpected savior. “Oh, it's you!” Jungkook exclaimed with unusual excitement.

Struggling to respond, you found yourself once again speechless in his presence. Jungkook, unaware of your rigid demeanor, continued, “Sorry about my dog! He's still a puppy and tends to be playful.”

Feeling claws digging into your stomach, you silently cursed Salem. As Jungkook spoke, you attempted to break free from your frozen state. “Hi, um... sorry, it must be because of my cat.” You finally managed to speak, avoiding direct eye contact. “Don't worry, I did notice.”

Jungkook's smile was blindingly bright, leaving you momentarily stunned. “He's cute,” he remarked, pointing to your chest where Salem was concealed.

Suppressing a laugh at the irony, you agreed, “Yes, although he's not much of a dog lover.” You gestured towards Bam, who was curiously sniffing around “He’s cute too”

“He is. Although his size can be intimidating,” Jungkook commented with a smile.

Unable to resist, you inadvertently mirrored his smile. “How old is he?” you inquired, curiosity piqued. Bam, a Doberman with a sleek, dark coat, stood at a height reaching up to your belly. He exuded an air of elegance and grace.

Jungkook's response drew an astonished gasp from you, “Almost seven months. I know, it's the same reaction every time I mention his age.”

A laugh bubbled from you as you adjusted Salem, his curious little head popping up from your arm. “Hello, little friend,” Jungkook greeted your feline companion warmly, fostering a comforting warmth within you.

You introduced Salem, playfully mentioning, “Unlike Bam, let's say he's not very young”.

It wasn't exactly a lie – you had known Salem since you were a baby, and according to your aunts, Salem had been a cat for quite a long time.

Jungkook extended his tattooed hand towards you, curiosity dancing in his doe-like eyes. “Can I pet him?” The sudden closeness caught you off guard, but you managed to reply, “Sure. He's not aggressive.”

Jungkook's gentle strokes on your cat's dark fur left Salem completely enchanted, purring happily in your arms. “Apparently, he likes affection,” Jungkook observed, his eyes locking onto yours.

You smiled shyly, your pulse quickening. “No. He only likes you,” you shared, attempting to bring a lightness to the situation. “He doesn't like people very much. Hopefully, he can put up with Yoongi.”

Jungkook grinned at your words, and before temptation could take hold, you squeezed your cat and smoothed down your dress. “I think it's time to go,” you said casually, concealing any nervousness. “It was nice seeing you.”

Surprisingly, Jungkook seemed momentarily taken aback by your swift departure. “Oh sure!” His cheerful tone dimmed slightly. “I'm sorry about what happened with Bam. I hope you had a good afternoon.”

You nodded shyly, uncertain if another encounter with the sweaty yet undoubtedly attractive Jungkook would be good for your heart.

“Well, I guess I'll see you on Wednesday?” he suggested, subtly trying to delay your departure.

“On Wednesday?” you asked with a feigned innocence.

Jungkook chuckled. “I guess Yoongi hasn't told you yet. We're having a barbecue with friends to celebrate my return to the country. It's at my friend's house where I'm staying, just a few minutes from here.” He shared this with a shy smile, “You're invited; I hope you can make it.”

Despite the initial inclination to decline, Jungkook's charm left you powerless to resist his hopeful gaze. “Okay,” you agreed after a moment, pulling your gaze away from his eyes to survey the surroundings. “I'll see if I can come.”

Jungkook's smile persisted, seemingly undeterred by your attempt at resistance. “I'll look forward to it. It's going to be a blast.”

You chuckled nervously, “Don't set your expectations too high.”

Jungkook, still smiling, leaned in slightly and said, “Hey, it's going to be a fun time on Wednesday. Good food, good vibes. You gotta be there!”

You chuckled, “I'll think about it. Can't promise anything, though.”

Jungkook, with a playful grin, countered, “Come on, live a little. We didn't meet properly last time, but I think we'll get along. I already like your vibe, and I can see that Jimin and Yoongi adore you”

You raised an eyebrow, “My vibe, huh? Well, we'll see. No guarantees, though.”

Jungkook, keeping it light, gave a casual shrug, “Cool. Wednesday it is, then?”

Despite your initial resistance, Jungkook's carefree demeanor and magnetic aura prove to be a formidable combination. Succumbing to the easy flow of conversation and the genuine warmth he exudes, you find yourself nodding in agreement. “Sure, Wednesday it is,” you reply, trying to downplay the subtle thrill that creeps into your tone.

Jungkook's smile widens, a playful glint in his eyes. “Awesome! Can't wait to hang out. It's going to be a good time, I promise.”

Internally shaking your head at your unexpected change of heart, you shoot back, “Don't get too excited! I'm just there for the food.”

As you walked away, the realization dawned upon you – you were in deep trouble. The echoes of Jungkook's laughter lingered in your mind, and the casual commitment to a Wednesday gathering now felt like the first step into a maze of unpredictable emotions. Somehow, in that lighthearted exchange, you couldn't shake off the feeling that the road you were on might lead to a place where your carefully constructed emotional boundaries would be tested.

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sat0-get0 · 1 year

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・❥ 𝐓𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐅𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 - 𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨𝐮

ꕥ 𝙘𝙬 : 𝙬𝙘: 1𝙠 (𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 1000 𝙤𝙪𝙪), 𝙛𝙚𝙢!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧, 𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙞𝙣 𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙨𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙡, 𝙄 𝙗𝙪𝙢𝙥𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙜𝙚 𝙪𝙥 𝙗𝙮 𝙖 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙨𝙤 𝙝𝙚'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙬 18 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚, 𝙨𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙪𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩, 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙨𝙚𝙭𝙪𝙖𝙡/𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙟𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙨, 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙩𝙖 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙠𝙞 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨, 𝙪𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨 (𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙨), 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙖 𝙨𝙬𝙞𝙢𝙨𝙪𝙞𝙩, 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛 𝙛𝙧, 𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙢𝙚 𝙞𝙛 𝙞 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜

✎ 𝘢𝘯 : 𝘪𝘮 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴!! 9 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘢 10, 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘴 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘯𝘩𝘢 𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺, 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦!! ༄

Katsuki Bakugou who swore up and down that he'd never be like any regular high school boy. Staying away from alcohol and drugs no matter how much he's encouraged, declining party invites, and not letting his hormone induced emotions get the best of him.

His search history is clean, rice purity score in the 90s, and he's practically incapable of silly teenage boy thoughts. Well, that was until he met you. Everyone, including him, knows about the big crush that you have on him. The first day you transfered to UA, your eyes landed on him in an instant. Mr. Aizawa was perched outside the classroom in his sleeping bag so you didn't head straight for a seat. Instead, you walk directly to the guy with spikes for hair.

He seemed to be dozing off into space or rather, trying his best to ignore the chaos around him until you approach. "You." you exclaim, making him look up at you with an offended expression. "What the hell do you want?" he asks, practically sneering at you. "You're so fine." you say before walking away and finding an empty desk. It happened to be 2 desks right behind him and he looks back at you confused, questioning what the hell 'fine' even means. (Kirishima and Sero were squealing in his ear during lunch about how he just received 'the best compliment known to man kind' and should be extremely lucky).

After that day, you had always given him compliments and the more you warmed up to him and he hesitantly warmed up to you, the more bold you got. Blowing him kisses, unexpectedly fixing his hair, and even getting so close to him your noses were touching, something only you could ever get away with unscathed. This didn't exclude you from getting pushed away from him or him yelling dramatically in your ear but the difference was, whenever he gave you those reactions it was out of pure flustered and embarrassing emotions.

Currently it's a very eventful day at UA. Present Mic called for a special bonding activity for your class, therefore taking you all to the beach. Was it perhaps just an excuse he used to have a day off and not have Principal Nezu on his ass? 100%. Nonetheless, everyone was allowed to wear their preferred swim wear instead of those hideous UA swimsuits and you all were left alone as Present Mic went on a search for snacks.

Bakugou had already been seated on a beach chair, head buried inside of some random book he picked up to avoid talking to the idiots surrounding him. He hadn't paid attention to nobody as you all headed straight for the water, cooling off from the blazing sun. He had gotten well into the chapter before you and a few other girls left the water, not wanting your skin to prune.

"Katsuki!" Bakugou looks up at you instantly and is about to give you a snarky comment due to the usage of his first name until his eyes fall on your body. Your skin is glistening underneath the rays of the sun, water dripping from your hair as you approach him. This is the first time he struggles to maintain eye contact, watching the way water drops down your collarbone and disappearing into your exposed cleavage.

You notice his staring and giggle as you stop walking once you're beside him. "Why didn't you enter the water, 'Suki?" you pout. He snaps out of his trance and you can't tell if his face is reddening from anger or from blushing. His ruby red eyes look up at you, brows furrowed. "Because I didn't want to now get away from me, you're getting me all wet." You lean down and whisper in his ear, "And you're getting me all wet too." You look at his face and laugh at the way his jaw drops, clutching your sides.

Bakugou scrambles in his chair before throwing his towel over at you, the thick fabric muffling your giggles. "You're too cute." you say, using his towel to dry your hair before draping it around your shoulders. Mineta and Denki share a look as they watch you two from the water, unsure if their faces are moist from the ocean or from their tears. "That should've been me." cries out Mineta, hugging Denki as they sob together.

"Whatever, I'm gonna go get a snack. That loud ass teacher is coming no time soon." Bakugou grumbles out, grabbing his slides from the sand before walking away in the direction of a store nearby. "Wait for me!" you exclaim, grabbing your own sandals and moving to get your purse that you bring everywhere with you.

You watch as Bakugou orders a bag of hot chips and a large water bottle. You grab a bottle of juice, placing it on the counter before reaching into your bag to pull out your wallet. You look up when you hear Bakugou mumble a 'let's go', your juice in his plastic bag. You squeal on the inside, seeing as this is one of the nicest things he's ever done for you.

"Careful, 'Suki. One might assume you have a crush on me if you keep at it." you tease, stopping him in his tracks as you step in front of him. "It was $5, I don't care." He says, using all the strength he has to ignore the way your breasts press against his own chest. "Means a lot coming from you." You're getting closer and closer to him every second and he doesn't realize it until your noses are brushing.

"Thank you, 'Suki." you say before pressing your plush lips against his. You look into his shocked red eyes before giggling the way that makes him blush everytime, grabbing your juice out of his bag and walking back towards the sand. He can't help but stutter as if his reply to you is delayed, standing dumb founded in front of the store.

𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 ✩

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo fluff #my hero academia fluff #bnha fluff #mha fluff #black writers

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waklman · 1 year

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i seriously need to read bradley and mouse asap!!!! but i’m currently thinking of the chaos that is jake and princess baking. do they even bake? i feel like they wouldn’t have time but occasionally one of them would whip out one of mama seresin’s recipies on a special occasion and make something. i have so many conflicting thoughts of how good of a cook any of the members of the dagger squad are so i’m wondering what your thoughts are on that. anyways, i love you and good luck on your exams, you’re going to ace them!!!! and take your time with the requests <3

prompt: the disasters of jake and princess baking.

warnings: none, fluff, a little steamy kiss (?) i dont know how it took a turn okay, jake being a pest as usual, 18+ blog, minors dni.

side note: honestly i feel like everyone would be a great cook, maybe with the exception of jake he’d probably swear up and down that he’s the best but everyone spits out his food once they try it (sorry jake). and thank you drewbear!! i will be studying my ass off but it will be worth it i hope..!

fake it masterlist

“You better stay right there,” you pause your stirring, letting the whisk rest against the bowl, eyes lifting to where you commanded Jake to stand.

Behind the kitchen counter, Jake’s toes wriggle in his socks, battling the urge to disobey your warning. Dusted across the planes of his shoulders is the baking powder you were trying to use for his mom’s special oatmeal cookie recipe. And on his tongue rests a chunk of raw dough he scooped into his mouth without your permission.

Baking with Jake being present was clearly a mistake, and the only way to correct that was to put him on time out.

“I can’t breath when I’m away from you,” he whines, complaint muffled by the wad of cookie dough in his mouth.

“Okay,” you start, voice as sweet as the mixture you’re beginning to stir again. Jake’s already moving out of his spot, pleased that you’ve decided to forgive him. But then, your tone turns ice cold, “Looks like you’re dying then,” you answer flatly, reverting your attention back to the mixing bowl, as if you didn’t just shoot him down.

At that, Jake retreats back to his original stance with slouched shoulders this time. You’re keeping him on time out.

Though, this isn't exactly his first instance of being put under the spotlight of punishment.

The last time Jake found himself in this much trouble was eight years ago—when he had the grand idea to shove you in the pool. Back then, it was an excuse to get some mouth-on-mouth action with his best friend, because how else would he be able to figure out, if he had a crush on you or not? After letting you drown for a little bit, Jake planned to play life guard. He’d pull you out, lay you flat against the towel he had set up, and plant his lips on yours—to resuscitate you, of course.

But what twelve year old Jake didn’t account for in his poorly laid out scheme, was his mother. Mrs. Seresin had been one foot out the door, plate of freshly cut fruit in hand when she witnessed her son kick you into the deep end, evil grin stretched across his tiny face. Instead of Jake coming to your rescue that afternoon, Evelyn Seresin did. With the platter of neatly decorated fruit dropped to the ground, and her mama-bear instincts cranked to an all time high—she fished you out of the water and wiped away your panicked tears.

Not a second after, Jake got dragged by the ear towards the time out zone, designated just for him.

He was forced to stand off in the corner of the backyard that day, pruned fingers scrunching the bottom of his swim shorts in guilt and waterlogged blond hair sticking to his forehead as the sun began to dry him off.

When he finally lifted his teary eyes up to you, your little fingers were already curled into the shape of a heart, directed right at him. It was a silent assurance that you still loved him, even when he nearly killed you. The very second you caught the pout tugging down his bottom lip, you had forgiven him. That quality about you, was the only reason why Jake had any kind of long-term friendship.

But your patience for him seems to have dialed down over the last eight years—because Jake got thrown into time out again, not by his mother, but by you this time.

Unable to stay still for more than a few minutes, Jake silently stalks over to you. You currently have your back turned from just setting the sheet of cookies into the oven.

“There we g—Jacob! P-Put me down!” In one move, Jake has you flipped around and thrown over his shoulder like a sack of rice. Despite the initial protest, you’re draped limply over his back, surrendering to him entirely.

Coming to a halt in front of the sofa, Jake lazily throws you into the cushions and crawls on top of you. It’s a routine at this point—where Jake’s chin sits over your belly button, large hands slipped under your shirt to rest on your waist, and thumbs sweeping over the goosebumps there. The way your body reacts to him gives him a bit of reassurance, but sometimes—he needs more.

“Would you actually let me die,” he pouts, looking up at you with furrowed brows.

You stiffly blink at him, reminded of the day he drowned you—on purpose. It would be mean to bring it back up when you’ve previously forgiven him, but this is revenge for him messing with you in the kitchen.

“It’s only fair—you almost let me die once,” you put forth, a serious expression dawning on your features. Though, it’s merely an act, because internally—you’re waging a war against yourself, wanting to give into him already.

The furrow of his brows deepen. Jake grips your waist tighter in remorse. “I was tryna’ get it on with you!”

“So you decided to drown me?”

He’s now reminded of how cruel his plan was.

Jake’s face falls flat against your stomach, nose prodding into your flesh. “...Yes,” he mumbles against you. With Jake unable to see you, the tight look you’re wearing dissipates. You silently let out a breath you were holding, dropping the angry act you put up.

Jake continues to sulk, nuzzling his nose against you, resisting the urge to kiss your tummy. Hardly two seconds go by, before the sight of him writhing in his guilt breaks you.

“Jake. I–I think I’m drowning,” you whisper nervously, heart starting to race at your own statement.

Jake stiffens.

Slowly, he lifts his head to rest his chin back onto your stomach. Jake then swallows thickly, wide-eyed as he meets your stare. “...And you need savin’?”

Your hesitation lingers for a grueling moment before you finally nod, bottom lip caught between your teeth.

“…Yeah, I think I do.”

Jake jumps into action, seizing the moment his twelve year old self would’ve let you die over. Not expecting his quick reaction, a yelp escapes you as he pulls you down to face him.

His mouth is latched onto yours in an instant.

Jake allows you to set the pace at first, it’s slow, shy, intimate—just as you are. But once he feels your fingers wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him down against your front with a small noise leaving your mouth—Jake is overtaken by a hunger to hear it again.

Your skin runs hot against him now, burning against the couch, burning against his digits under your shirt. With an expert tilt of his head, Jake kisses you deeper—rougher, expelling all the air from your lungs. And it certainly doesn’t help when his warm tongue darts into your mouth, teasingly swirling against your own wet muscle—all while his calloused palms explore further up the oversized tee. The combination was enough to make your head spin, despite laying steady against the cushions.

If he were to stretch his hands any higher, his finger tips would hit the band of your bra. And god, you don’t know if you could handle that.

It's unconscious but you shiver under him, and Jake’s unable to fight the smile making its way onto his face. He slows the movement of his lips against yours, retracting his tongue—despite your weak efforts to get him to return back to his bruising pace, with a pinch of his nape.

His previous need to see you unravel under him is dropped, replaced by a stronger desire to crack a joke instead. Jake pulls back chuckling, hands lowering to your waist again, pinning you down as you try to chase his lips.

Underneath him, you’re flushed with embarrassment, blinking at him like a deer in headlights.

The tongue—that was previously shoved into your mouth is being traced over his bottom lip, in amusement.

“Woulda tried drowning you again, if I knew you were gonna react that way.”

As you open your mouth to scold him, it snaps shut again.

A silence passes through, while you reconsider your reply.

Finally, you shrug underneath him—deciding to supply a more truthful response instead, “I…yeah, I wouldn’t mind.”

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tags: @wkndwlff @bubblegumbeautyqueen @averyhotchner @angeliccks @atarmychick007 @Olivia21blunt @s-u-t @hangmanscoming @dempy @geraltsaxii @angelbabyange @milani-marie @blueoorchid @soapysoaply @mamaskillerqueen @blue-aconite @shanimallina87 @wildxwidow @clancycucumber230 @emma8895eb @ohgodnotagainn @starlightstories @bbyvanessaa @scoopsr0bin @mannsachds @strokesofstokes @magicstrengthandcourage @desert-fern @coconut152 @moonlight-addisyn @mosiwil @ronanallisterswife @s0uz4s @amandato300 @bradswolfe @swiftsgirlfriend @mikkorantanev @brookiecookiez0 @scarlovesyou @hisredheadedgoddess28 @sushiwriterhere @ccristata @nervousmumbling @acarboni21 @maddievevoo @chimchimjiminie16 @djs8891 @purplevortexx @kajjaka @reallysparklychaos @kashee-h

#jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x y/n #jake hangman x you #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman fic #jake hangman imagine #fake it #hangman x reader #hangman fic #hangman seresin #hangman x you

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ornii · 5 months

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—They will be Loved—

So after finishing the Multiverse of Madness film, I had an idea of a story where the reader is the Widow of Black Widow (see what I did there?) and is also the spirit of Vengeance because Ghost Rider needs an R-Rated MCU Film, and shares his grief with an also grieving Wanda.

Strange Had requested help with a “little” issue as he called it, little being an absolute lie since it’s dealing with the god damn multiverse, but you relented and agreed. It’s been, lonely since Nat left and the avengers are gone, it’ll be nice to at least get out of the house.

You rode down the countryside, the hum of your chopper in your ears and the wind on your face, you went to the orchad of Mrs Maximoff. it was often you did the dirty work of others. This one, was personal though. Wanda did some things many would consider simply evil, but it’s not always so cut and dry with things like this. The white petal orchard trees lined the side of the road and nearing her home, a voice of pure evil calls from the back of your head like a speaker.

“I sense immense magic here..” the Spirit of Vengeance, my others self you could say, was speaking to you

“Yeah, I felt it too..” You replied, I saw from the corner of my eye a woman grafting the orchard. You slowly came to a halt and halted your bike and kicked up the stand. Stepping off, you approached her, the warm scent of apple and grass felt so, human. And you haven’t felt human in a long time.

You get behind her, and she obviously senses your presence.

“Apples, right?” You ask, trying to break the ice with your old friend. “Nat would have loved it..” you start.

“Eventually.” Wanda replies in Jest, she turns to face you and you can see that her beauty hasn’t changed at all. Those beautiful eyes hold so much grief behind them. You nod, “It’s almost to good to be true, you know?” You say, trying to hint at Wanda.

“It's all very real. Thanks. I put the magic behind me.” She said to you, she walks off to continue pruning limbs and you casually follow her, “Well, I knew sooner or later you'd... show up, wanting to discuss what happened at WestView. I made mistakes, and people were hurt.” She said, the pain in her eyes, her power was neatly unmatched, and that lead to catastrophic consequences.

“I'm not here to talk about WestView Wanda.” You say.

“Then what are you here for?”

“Strange, needs your help.” You start.

“With what?” She inquired, you rubbed your chin trying to think of a way to explain. “You, ever come across the concept of, the Multiverse?” You said, Wanda didn’t look as confused as you thought she would.

“The Multiverse. Vis had his theories. He believed it was real. And, dangerous.” She drops the limbs into a crate and then gives her full attention to you.

“Well, he was right about that. From what he told me, he found a girl who can somehow travel across it but she's being pursued.” You say.

“Pursued by who?”

“Some kind of demon. From what strange told me, I’d go with Underworld Deity, a Trickster wouldn’t try to take her by force but trick her into giving her soul or powers away. Strange is ready to defend her, and we could use another Avenger.” You offer, trying to get a smile out of Wanda, she gives you a sad one.

“There are other Avengers, (Y/n).”

“Yeah but, it’s not really the same, besides between Clint, A Teenager webslinger, and …Whatever I am. We’re the best line of defense for her.” You explain, and Wanda poses a question.

“What if you brought America here?” She asks.

“Here?” You reply? And the spirit in your head also picks it up.

“She knows the name of America Chavez…”

“Yeah, she’s been stalking her..” you think, and Wanda goes on.

“Yeah. I know what it's like. To be on your own, hunted for abilities you never wanted. I can protect her.” She explains, you continue to look at Wanda, not saying anything as she realizes her slip up.

“..You never told me her name, did you?” She asks, now realizing she’s been had.

“No. No, I didn't.” You reply, Wanda sighs, and looks around. “You know, the Hex was the easy part. The lying, not so much.”

Wanda calmly moves her hand, which dispels the illusion and reveals the truly hellish world she’s been on, it’s blood red, mixed with such evil darkenss, no life, no trees, no happy little farm. And what stood there for you, was a Book. The, Book.

“The Darkhold.” You felt its eternal power reach out to you, ready to swallow you whole. You fight its call of power and hear Wanda.

“You've heard of the Darkhold?” She asks you, turning your eyes to her, you see her dawned not in regular civilian clothes, but that of the Scarlet Witch.

“it's the Book of the Damned. And that it corrupts everything and everyone that it touches. The Way Chthon intended it, it shows you falsehoods and a sense of power you will never control.”

“The Darkhold only showed me the truth. Everything I lost... can be mine again.” She said, somehow believing her own lies, you shook your head in disbelief, that Wanda would go so, far.

“What do you want with America? And What do you want with the Multiverse?” You demand, and she gives up her plan.

“I'm going to leave this reality, and go to one where I can be with my children.” She said, but you calmly countered.

“Wanda, your children aren't real. They were made from magic.”

“That's what every mother does. If you knew... there was a universe, where you were happy, happy with Natasha, with a family, wouldn't you wanna go there?” She asks you, and admittedly, she’s right. A simple life on the countryside, away from the Spy games and Occult evil, a world where you’re happy. Your anger slowly transformed into melancholic empathy, you frowned softly to Wanda.

“You know… Nat couldn’t have kids, so we considered adopting. It was the last thing we talked about. She really would have loved any child we had. I know it can’t compare to you and Viz though. It’s not enough that, In Many other universes, they’ll be loved?” You ask, Wanda’s walls come down for a moment and you saw the real Her. A grieving mother and widow. A tear comes down her eye, and she couldn’t reply.

“You’re right, I would love a world where I can be happy with Nat, love her, hold her… but in order to do that I’d have to kill a version of myself that’s happy. I can’t do that, I can’t kill a version of myself for my own happiness. If I did that, would I even deserve to be happy? Would you kill a version of yourself that’s happy because you’re not?” You reply. Just for a moment you saw Wanda’s eyes have a hint of remorse in them. “Wanda, what you plan do to will cause irreparable damage to our universe and the one you intended to murder and implant yourself inside, if you try to child's power, she won't survive.” You warn her, but it seems she unfortunately stuck in a fusion of corruption and grief.

“I don't relish hurting anyone, (Y/n). But she's not a child. She's a supernatural being. Such raw power could wreak havoc on this, and other worlds. Her sacrifice would be for the greater good.” She said, still trying to justify this absolutely diabolical behavior.

“You’re starting to sound just like Him, the same man who killed Vision and half of the universe.” You shake you Head, turning away from her to walk away.

“Strange killed half of the universe When he gave Thanos the Time Stone.” She retorts back to you. You halt in your steps and slowly turn back to her.

“He breaks the rules and becomes a hero. I do it and I become the enemy. That doesn't seem fair.” She replies, You Storm over, frustration coming to a boil, she could see it, the red burning flame in your eyes, the Ghost Rider.

“That was different, Strange gave Thanos the stone because it’s the only way in Fourteen Million outcomes that we beat Thanos. You want it to bring back children that don’t exist for you, Strange was Selfless, you’re just Selfish.” The venom in your words, they haunt Wanda, the growing disconnect between her and reality was apparent.. she shook off your threat.

“Return to Kamar-Taj, and prepare to hand over America Chavez by sundown. Peacefully. After that... You'll never see me again.” She bargains.

“And if I refuse?” You ask, and her sinister aura changes.

“Then it won’t be Wanda who comes for her, it will be the Scarlet Witch.” With those haunting words, she turns to walk away, you felt a blend of anger, sadness, grief all your own.

“Wanda..” you say, she stood still but didn’t turn to face you.

“I… I Miss the people that we used to be..” you say. Wanda gives a shaky sigh, you can hear her trying not to break down into tears.

“.. So do I Pral..” she mutters before leaving, as much as it tore you apart, as much as you hated it. This, could only end one way.

#male reader #wanda maximoff x male reader #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda marvel #wanda maximoff #wanda fanfic #wandavision #wanda x y/n #ghost rider #marvel #wanda x male reader #angst #wanda angst #Ornii

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

Text

Unexpected 14

Sequel to Unsolicited

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, pegging, Lloyd being the worst, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

As you choke down the iron tablets with a glass of prune juice, you wrinkle your nose and let out a noise of disgust. Worse than the vitamins and the constipation, you feel the shirt tight across the new curve of your stomach and how it peeks out in an ungainly fashion. You're only happy no one is around to witness how gross you are.

Lloyd's absence has been peaceful. A mission which has stretched on two weeks and left you anything but lonely. Quiet mornings and similar nights, only briefly interrupted by his check-ins. You keep the phone close if only stave off any concern or further interruption of your solace. You might be alright if this is the usual. If you could count on a respite from the torture of his existence.

You rinse out the glass and burp up a nasty mouthful of prune flavoured reflux. You cringe and put the glass in the rack. You have no plans but you aren't restless.

You find little things to do. Sometimes you walk on the treadmill and watch a reality show about women with overinflated lips, other times you settle down with a book, rolling your eyes at the ridiculous thrillers Lloyd keeps in perpetuity, or you simply zone out in front of the television. With your cravings running wild, your time is merely counted as hours between meals.

You make your way to the door and ease it open. Spring is coming, the snow is thawing to mud, and the air smells like rain. You take a seat on the simple white bench and rub your back as you watch the sky. You wince as the speaker beside the doorbell clicks.

"Enjoying the view, peaches?" Lloyd asks from his remote observation.

"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere," you grumble, "I'm not that fast."

"Aw, baby, I know you're not gonna run," he taunts, "I'm just... enjoying the view myself."

You sigh and slap your thighs before you stand. You grown, keeping a hand on your hip as you move slowly. The extra weight, not much at all, is already straining in your back. You squint at the doorbell where you know the lens is.

"Dick," you utter as you pass by and go back inside.

"I didn't say you couldn't go outside," his echoed voice follows you inside, "wait, peaches... Mrs. Hansen. Give us a turn."

"Lloyd, leave me alone--"

"Wait, wait," he speaks, the noise of his fumbling rubbing against the mic, "better angle. Well, well, well, look at you. Is that junior I see peeking out beneath your shirt?"

"Stop," you hug your stomach, trying to hide it as you spin, dizzily searching for the seamless cameras.

He's quiet. You wait. The empty static dies and you think he's gone. You shake your head and go to the living room. You flop down and lean your head in your hand as you search through the menu for something to put on and fill the void.

As you hit play, the door flies open and jolts you from your comfort. You crane your head to look over your shoulder as Lloyd struts into the entryway, "honey, I'm home. And horny!"

"Jesus fuck," you snarl and turn back to the screen.

"Aren't you happy to see me, peaches?"

"Could've warned me--"

"Where's the fun in that?" He taunts as he comes behind the couch. As you drop the remote beside you he bends and kisses the crown of your head, "honey bee, I got an idea."

"Uh huh, that's always a good sign."

"Yes, you're a woman, you like simple things," he leans down and crosses his arm across the back of the sofa, "let's go shopping."

"Nah, I'm not really--"

"Look, baby, as much as I love seeing that soft tummy, you're gonna need something that fits and you're only going to get bigger."

"You think I don't know that. Lloyd, please, don't act like you care."

"Well, I do care. About my dick and how you make it feel, but nonetheless, I think by the time I get you in a cute little maternity dress, I'll be at full staff--"

"If I agree, will you be quiet?" You snap as your ears burn.

"I'll try but you know me well enough, peaches, I don't exactly know when to stop."

"For all your flaws, self-awareness isn't one of them," you mutter and push yourself to the edge of the couch.

Lloyd comes around and offers his hand. You haul your ass off the cushions and stand straight.

"Don't worry, baby cakes, I know you missed me," he winks, "that's what I like about you, the emotional repression."

💎

Your feet ache, even in the Vans you convinced Lloyd to buy you on the way in. New shoes are never comfortable but preferable to the unreasonable heels he keeps in good stock. You traipse behind him, nonplussed at the prospect of new clothes. You've never been a shopper and the last time you tried….

Well, you met him.

The memory chills you and floods your current reality. The realisation that a singular mortifying encounter became your foreseeable future. He sure had a way of ruining even the most mundane things.

Several stores down and you could collapse already. Even as he carries the load, you feel as if you're bogged down, hauling a boulder across the desert. You struggle to keep up with his long strides.

"I think we got enough," you puff, "really, not like I go anywhere."

"There's one more stop, then I'll take you home and rub you down," he winks as he nearly bowls over another shopper, his shoulder hitting theirs with an indifferent force, "get you oiled up and relaxed."

You sneer at him, even as the suggestion bubbles beneath your skin. No, he's not going to get to you. He interrupted your you time. One more he's ruined it all and for what, so you can buy stretchy leggings.

He turns into a black fronted shop, the pink moniker sending your heart into overdrive. No. He doesn't stop.

You trail behind him reluctantly. Shameless as always, he stops before the table of thongs and drops the bags by his feet, he stretches a lacy vee and faces you, holding them up to measure.

"Low rise so enough room for–"

"Lloyd, jesus," you cover yourself instinctively, "we're in public."

You feel the steady boil, the tingle that creeps up your thighs and ensnares your chest.

"Never stopped me before," he goes back to fishing through the displays, messing up the carefully folded piles, "satin… now what's the point in these?" He raises a thong that's little more than string, "well, if the point is to get me hard–"

"Quit," you beg as his words carry and the associates giggle at each other. Your cheeks burn even hotter, the sudden surge in your core surprising you.

"Let's find something to try on," he gathers the bags with one hand, several pantites clutched in the other, "hello," he greets the women behind the counter, both young and dressed in sleek back, "do you mind if we leave these? We're gonna have a look around."

"Uh, yes, sir," the blond chirps, "we'll keep an eye on them, no problem."

"I'm sure you will. Gorgeous blues," he compliments, "and that smile."

You frown. That's not cool. You're standing right there. It's not jealousy but the fact that he has no regard for you. That these young girls must assume you're some nag of a wife, easily forgotten for a pretty face.

You roll your eyes and strut away. He follows and chuckles. He's not dumb enough to think you care, surely not. Or that you would even think of dragging him out a fucking him in the backseat--

Because you wouldn't.

He take a leather corset and tests the resistance, "guess this is probably too much, we need something flowy."

"Whatever you want," you shrug.

"What's wrong, baby?"

"Nothing, grab what you want and let's go. I'm sore and hungry and tir–"

"Horny? Ah, okay, okay, sorry, I just thought… it's been two weeks."

"Don't," you growl, "I'm hardly in the…" you pause and stare at his hand as he grabs a baby blue teddy with an open front. It's like you can feel his touch already, "...mood."

"This," he wiggles the teddy, "looks cozy. Easy to rip off you."

"Sure," you swipe it away, "whatever gets me outta here." You go back to the girls at the desk, "hey, can I get a fitting room, please?"

"One sec," the blonde jingles her keys on her belt.

She comes around and you follow her to the back area. She lets you into a stall as Lloyd wanders up.

"You go to school?" He asks as you pull the curtain shut.

"Uh huh, law."

"Oh, sexy, a lawyer," he flirts, you can picture him stroking his dumb mustache, "freshman?"

"Sophomore," she replies as you strip down.

You shake your head as you pull on the teddy. You don't like how much of your stomach shows or how your tits feel like they're gonna fall out of the cups. You peek in the mirror, oh great, they also look humongous.

"Lloyd," you call as the girl giggles, "can you help me with this?"

"Yes, honey," he returns, "sorry, wifey's expecting and she's not as limber as she used to be."

"Aw, you're so helpful," the girl praises shrilly, "just let me know if you need anything else."

You face Lloyd as he comes through the curtain and you grab the front of his jacket. He blinks and gives a startled grunt, "hm?"

"Shut up and sit down," you swing him around and shove him onto the bench, "I'm should fucking smack you, you know that?"

"You should," he say brightly.

You narrow your eyes at him. He watches you boldly, mockingly. You hate him so bad but you also can't think of anything else but the way his shoulders look so broad and his chest strains his jacket tautly. You grab his belt and fumble with the buckle.

"Wait–"

"Shhhh, you'll get us in trouble," you hiss.

"Baby, it's not me making trouble for once," he sits back with a grin.

#lloyd hansen x reader #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen #series #unexpected #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #the gray man

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skyfall8600 · 2 years

Text

In Your Eyes (Soulmate AU)

Pair: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff, swearing

Masterlist

Prompt: the world is colourless and grey, until you make eye contact with your soulmate and you can suddenly see colour

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You were someone who loved the idea of love. You often dreamed of what it would be like when you finally met your soulmate. You didn’t dare dream of being with anyone else until you found them.

Others didn’t care, having romantic relations and partners before they met their soulmate. They teased you, calling you an old fashioned prune or stuck up.

Living in a small town like Hawkins, everyone who’s soulmate lived there had already found each other. So by the time you were 18, you assumed your soulmate didn’t live in Hawkins. Surely if he did, you would have seen him by now. Yet, the whole world was still grey and dull. You could only imagine what colours were like.

Today started like any other. Backpack filled with textbooks, lunch, homework and whatever novel you borrowed for this week. School was uneventful for the first half of the day, your geography teacher raging on about how they hated today’s generation who have to overcomplicate simple things like radio stations or movies.

Your math lesson dragged on as you sat there waiting in your seat for your teacher to call out the end of the test. You knew you passed with flying colours but were upset that they never let you read your book after you’ve finished the test. They claimed that you could still ‘cheat’.

Not like you’d ever have to of course. You just wanted to get back to your book, you only had it for two more days until it would be over due. So naturally you spent all of your lunch time with your eyes glued to the printed pages.

“Attention all students, please report to the gymnasium for an emergency assembly.” A voice over the PA system ran out.

Everyone groaned, packing away the last bit of their lunch before filing out of the cafeteria. You followed along, getting lost in the crowed.

You sat on the bleachers closest to the doorway, while everyone else crowded around the middle so they had a better view.

The principal came out and gave the usual house keeping speech. Reminding students that there’s to be no smoking on school grounds and that all late arrivals need to be signed off by Ms Galloway, the school receptionist.

You didn’t care about much else that was said. The basketball team and cheerleaders paraded around the court, earning cheers from the ground as a ‘pre-prep rally’ for tonight’s game. You didn’t dare look into the eyes of any of the basketball members, you don’t think you could handle one of those jerks to be your soulmate.

There was a moment of silence before everyone turned and gasped towards the back of the bleachers. You had missed it what Jason said, but your eyes followed where everyone was looking.

A few of the younger boys from that ‘Hellfire’ club looked visibly upset as the whispers spread amongst the crowed.

‘Is that true?’

‘Do they really do that?’

It appears that Jason was suggesting all the cult and satanic rumours of the relatively harmless club were true. You knew they played D&D as your next door neighbours kid who you sometimes babysat for would tell you all about his latest adventures and what monsters he killed in the game. It was harmless.

Jason continued to ramble on, causing an uproar. But the leader of the Hellfire Club stood up and yelled in protest.

“It’s a goddamn fantasy game! Requires more brain cells than what chasing after a few balls into a laundry basket does!” Eddie yelled. His response made you laugh.

“What’s that freak?!”

“You heard me you stupid brainless-“

“That’s enough Mr. Munson!” One of the teachers called out. “Please leave the hall and report to Ms O’donalds.”

The crowed ‘oooed’ and laughed. The younger members of the club protested, “He didn’t even do anything! Jason’s the one who started it.”

The teacher only hushed them and proceeded to tell Eddie to leave. He made sure all of his movements were loud and stiff as he made his way through the crowed and off the bleachers.

You saw his lips mumble whispers under his breath. You watched him and took in all the unique things about him. His hair was wild and his jean jacket had stickers, pins and patches that you could barely make out. He had chains dangling from his belt loops and you couldn’t help but look.

Everyone else went back to giving Jason all the attention he desired. Yet you remained glued to the mysteriously understood boy. He walked past you and felt you staring, so he looked up at you and that’s when the whole world turned bright.

You didn’t notice any of the vibrant colours that erupted around you, all you saw were a dark brown eyes.

He stopped walking and the only thing his body could function was a smile.

In that moment, it took all of Eddie’s will to force himself not to run up to you. He always watched you from afar and he tried to catch your eye whenever he could. But you were always looking down reading or scribbling some homework answers.

You gave him a shy smile.

The teacher came up behind him and nudged him to continue his departure from the gymnasium. He may have walked out of the hall but his eyes never left yours.

You were frozen. Torn between wanting to run after him and staying in your seat to not draw attention to yourself. It took you 15 minutes before you gathered up enough courage to leave the gym. No one noticed you leave. Nor did they particularly care about you.

You could feel your heartbeat in your chest, the vibrations all throughout your body. You wondered the hallways, your eyes floating in every direction in hopes to find him. You had no idea what you’d say or do what to even do once you found him.

“Hi there sweetheart.” He called out from behind you making you jump.

“Ah!”

He laughed quietly to himself. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Jesus Christ! Where the hell did you come from?!” You said, breathless as you tried to catch your breath.

“Got a mouth on you I see,” he said, still smiling at you like a puppy dog.

“I swear I looked everywhere and you just popped out of nowhere.”

“Aw, you were looking for me?”

You blushed, “Well yeah… I mean, how could I not?”

He nodded, leaning in closer to you. “So you see the colours too?”

“Yes.” You whispered. “I’m Y/n by the way.”

“I know. I’m Eddie.”

“I know.” You replied.

The two of you stood in silence, smiling hopelessly at each other for what felt like forever. It wasn’t until the rest of the student body started to head to their final period of the day did they two of you notice that time did not in fact stand still.

“Oh, I uh, I gotta go. Have an English essay.” You said, repositioning your backpack.

“Wait for me after school near the back parking lot?” He asked nervously, worried that you didn’t want to be seen with him in front of the others.

You nodded. “Okay.”

You hesitantly walked to your class. Taking your time as you looked at the vibrant world around you. There were colours everywhere; the halls and floors looked dull under the bright green and yellow posters that decorated the halls. Pink and blue streamers floated down from the ceiling.

But nothing beat how the sky looked. You were so mesmerised by it that you failed to complete half your essay.

“Y/n? May I have a word?” You teacher said at the end of class.

“I know Miss, I’m so sorry I have no idea what came over me-“

“I’ll let it go just this once because I know this isn’t your typical work.” She said with an apologetic smile. “I remember my first day of colours too, I think I walked into a street lamp.”

You looked dumbfounded at her, “How did you know?”

She laughed at you, giving you back your relatively empty essay. “You’re smiling at a tree! Here, I’ll give you an extra 20 minutes then I’ll have to grade whatever is on the paper.”

You took it, thanking her. You sped through the essay. You had practiced it word by word religiously for the last few days, so you didn’t need the full 20 minutes. Plus, you were worried that Eddie would think you didn’t want to see him if you made him wait that long.

You handed your teacher back the essay, thanking her again and ran out to the parking lot.

Just as you reached the outside doors, your heart broke when you saw Eddie looking sad besides a bet up brown van. He thought you had left. That you didn’t want to acknowledge the “freak” was your soulmate.

“Eddie!” You called out to him, almost tripping on your own feet. “Ah!”

He laughed in disbelief and helped you to your feet. “Had me worried for a while there. Thought you weren’t going to show-“

“-No! I had-“ you were out of breath, hands on your knees trying to recompose yourself. “I had to finish the essay. Mrs. Becker let me finish it after class cause I was too distracted to finish it.”

He smirked at you and you noticed the small dimples that formed on his cheeks.

“What got you so distracted hm?” He asked teasingly.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What do you think?!”

He laughed. “I think you’re really cute and if I say so, more chaotic then what I am!”

You joined in laughing with him. “I am not chaotic! It’s only because- because of you.”

“Of me?” He asked, slowly moving to grab you by the hands and you felt the electricity spark between you upon contact. The coldness of his rings felt cool against your soft skin. You’d never experience any sensation like it. It made you crave more. “You know, I’m glad it was you.”

“And why’s that?”

“You’re kind. You’re cute when you get into a book so much your tongue goes between your teeth in concentration. You’re clumsy as hell and it’s adorable.” Eddie moved closer to you, your bodies almost fully touching.

“Sounds like you’ve been stalking me.” You joked.

He shrugged and looked down embarrassingly. “Can’t really blame me, just naturally felt drawn to you like a magnet.”

“I always looked at you too,” you admitted. “Although, that’s purely because you’re loud as hell when you try to outsmart Jason.”

He gasped, hand clutching his chest. “Not because I was pretty?!”

“Maybe a little…” you whispered under your breath.

“Sorry. What was that? Didn’t quite hear you…” he nudged you, pulling you fully into his embrace now.

“Maybe a little bit because you’re cute.”

“I know.” He laughed, his hands cupping your face. You were both observing each other’s faces, the way your lips parted and how his cheeks flushed. “Can I kiss you?”

You suddenly grew nervous and he could tell instantly.

“Unless it’s too soon. It’s totally too soon. Fuck, forget I said anything. We’ll start fresh and I’ll even take you on a date first. Fuck-“

You cut him off by placing a quick kiss on his rough lips. You knew you weren’t ready to have a full blown make out with him yet, but that split second your lips touched already felt like heaven on earth.

You pulled back almost as quick as you leaned in. And once again you were met with the first colour you ever saw, the darkest shade of brown.

He was flustered and embarrassed that an act so quick could get him this flustered.

“I’d love that.” You said.

He looked at you blankly, “Uh, what?”

You laughed, realising the effect you had on him. “A date. You know, get to know each other… maybe get dinner.”

He nodded, his head still cloudy and he tried his best remember each word you said. “Yes. Absolutely.”

Lost in his big brown eyes, you knew that the rest of the world was waiting to be explored. And he would be there with you along the way.

————————————————————

A/N: oh my god I loved writing this. I got inspired after seeing a TikTok with a similar soulmate AU with Steve and I just had to write one for Eddie!

Hope you enjoyed the light fluff ❤️

Also I’m Australian. So my “colour” has a ‘u’, deal with it.

Eddie Munson Taglist:

@fentyreligion @littlelunarfox @coconutchumby @eempxth @superflannel @fluffycookies22 @yearwalker96 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @grungegrrrl @m1rkw00dpr1ncess

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson fluff

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