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moonlinos · 2 months

Text

Call my bluff, call you ‘babe’

♡ Pairing: Lee Minho × fem!reader

♡ Genre: Childhood friends to lovers, fluff

♡ CW: Implied smut, alcohol consumption. Twenty solid seconds of angst, but it doesn’t even really count. It’s just tooth-rotting fluff.

♡ Word count: 5.5k

♡ Synopsis: Minho has been your best friend since you two could barely form coherent sentences. He was there when your last baby tooth fell, he was there when you failed your high school exams, and he was there as you walked down the aisle.

♡ A/N: This was going to be just word-vomit fluff to make me cry, but I couldn’t control myself and before I knew it there were… so many words.

You were four years old when you met Minho. It was the first day of kindergarten, and you were assigned seats together. The entire day was spent with you chatting to every kid you could reach from your seat while Minho quietly sat painting and doodling by your side. You vaguely remember thinking he was odd and whining to your mom about how your seatmate was boring, and that was why he was the only kid in class you didn’t talk to. She smiled and told you maybe you should make an effort to talk to him. That same day, you racked your little brain for a reason why your seatmate might be so quiet and promptly decided that he was too shy to start a conversation himself. You then asked your mom if the fact that you didn’t talk to him might have made him sad, to which she hesitated, and that was enough to have your bottom lip wobbling.

You remember tears streaming down your cheeks as you frantically sobbed, inconsolable at the fact that your seatmate was sad and that it was partially because of you.

The next day, you asked if Minho would like to use your special glitter pens — you even told him you wouldn’t mind if he used your favorite colors. That was really all that was needed to plant the bud of friendship between you two.

Ever since that day, you two slowly became inseparable.

You attended the same elementary school after begging your parents, writing a very concise list of reasons why you two could not possibly be separated. Reasons such as the fact that Minho still didn’t know how to tie his shoelaces, so it would be dangerous for him to be alone in a new school. Or the fact that you were always losing your gloves, and Minho always carried an extra pair in his backpack just for you, so you would surely catch a cold if you didn’t have him beside you during winter.

All extremely valid reasons.

Minho began walking you home from school when you were both nine years old. He was often left alone due to his parents’ work schedules, which made him become the most street-smart kid in your class. You had to beg your mom for a week, but she ultimately caved in.

Your favorite thing to do on your way home was to stop randomly and doodle on the sidewalk with chalk, with Minho joining you in no time. You even had your favorite little sketching spot — right in front of a nice old lady’s flower shop, where you two would spend far too much time decorating her entrance pavement with flowers, rainbows, and smiley faces. She would later introduce herself to you, Ms. Kim, and would always thank you both with a flower of your choice. You always picked tulips, and Minho always picked daisies.

On one hazy winter day, you and Minho were eager to adorn the flower shop’s entrance with a new set of doodles since the ones you had done just yesterday got covered in snow. As you two did your best to dig through the piled-up snow with your gloved hands, you suddenly felt something hard slide down your throat. Your hands stilled, and you turned to look at Minho with wide eyes.

“What happened?” He asked. “Did you lose your glove in the snow this time?”

You shook your head frantically, careful not to swallow. “Teeth,” you simply said.

Minho looked at you like you were crazy, squinting his eyes as he studied your face. “What?”

You felt tears well up, and he immediately abandoned his mission of shuffling through the snow before pulling you into a big hug.

“Why are you crying? Don’t cry. I hate when you cry, I feel weird when you cry,” He said, but no tears left his worried eyes. Minho never cried, that was something you had learned a while back.

You, however, cried until Ms. Kim noticed you two from the window, cooing as she approached you two with a gentle smile. You tried your best to explain your predicament. Minho sat with you behind the wooden counter, holding your hand in his, the smell of flowers making everything feel less catastrophic than it did ten minutes earlier.

Ms. Kim explained that you had no reason to cry, as it was normal for kids to swallow their baby teeth. And you remember harshly shaking your head and explaining with a trembling voice that you hadn’t cried because of that. You had cried because that was your last baby tooth, which meant you were officially a grown-up. You didn’t want to be a grown-up. Minho wasn’t a grown-up yet, with his last baby tooth still holding on proudly in his gums. You didn’t want to be a grown-up all alone; it would be terrible and sad.

That afternoon, you two went home together in silence, your respective flowers clutched in your hands. Minho was never good with words. Sadness engulfed him because he couldn’t do enough to make his best friend smile again. What was the point of a best friend if they didn’t make you laugh when you were crying?

Minho walked into school the next day with a proud smile on his face before placing his last baby tooth on your desk. You eyed it curiously, brows furrowed.

“There, I took it off last night,” He simply said. “Now we’re gonna be grown-ups together.”

At eleven years old, your daily after-school video game appointments began.

You had just cut your hair short; a bob you thought looked cute on your favorite singer turned out to be cataclysmically unflattering on you. And, at eleven years old, it was earth-shattering and definitely the end of your life (despite what your mother told you).

You spent every second out in public with your hair hidden by a beanie, hoping it would distract people from your disastrous haircut.

Except it had the opposite effect.

One particular day at school, a boy came up to you simply to inform you that your head looked like a mushroom before running away, laughing with his friends. They were foolish words spoken by a foolish boy, but you were eleven. Once again, earth-shattering and the end of your life.

You avoided everyone the entire day — including Minho, whom you always talked to no matter your mood. You knew you wouldn’t be able to avoid him for much longer, seeing as he walked you home every day, so you simply prayed he wouldn’t notice your puffy eyes or that he at least hadn’t heard any of the other kids making unfunny jokes about your haircut.

After school, Minho sighed in feigned annoyance when you told him you had lost your gloves again before retrieving a pair from his backpack. Like a habit, you asked if he wanted to hang out at your house, although the answer was always unchanging.

“My mom’s baking a cake,” you told him. “We can play video games and then eat it together.”

Minho hummed in agreement, adjusting his backpack before grabbing your hand as you two began your daily walk to your house. It was something you always did, never walking anywhere without your hands clasped together. These past few months, however, this once ordinary gesture had begun making your heart beat faster. You didn’t understand why, and you would rather not think about it because every time you did, the words from your other friends would echo inside your head. Their stories about how they felt their hearts racing when their crush had hugged them or even looked their way, making you question if maybe…

But it couldn’t be. Minho was your best friend. How could he be your crush?

It was another one of those afternoons, your mom busily making you two sandwiches as you and Minho played New Super Mario Bros on your Wii under the blanket fort you always meticulously built. Minho had been acting weird all day — even weirder than you, who had to endure all the asinine jokes and hurtful words from your peers. As you completed the last level for the umpteenth time, saving Princess Peach, Minho all but threw his controller to the side. You turned to shoot him a questioning look, which went ignored as he rummaged through his backpack.

He retrieved a crumpled-up piece of paper, which he promptly gave to you.

You cocked your head, awaiting some sort of explanation, but Minho simply picked up his controller once more and hit play on the game.

Unfolding the paper, words greeted you in Minho’s messy handwriting.

YOUR HAIR LOOKS CUTE. STOP HIDING IT.

Your lips parted slightly, but before you could say anything to him, Minho reached out and snatched your beanie from your head. Your short hair and bangs cascaded onto your face, partially obscuring your view. But you could still make out his side profile, where a faint smile appeared on his lips.

After that, you two were silent for the rest of the day, eventually dozing off under the tent lulled by the sound of your mother’s hand mixer and Mario’s theme song. The sun eventually set outside the window, and you woke up to two plates of your mother’s cake waiting for you on the coffee table.

From that point on, your beanie was left forgotten inside your drawer.

You were fifteen when you realized that perhaps your feelings for Minho weren’t all that platonic after all.

It all started with a letter on Minho’s desk on a rainy Friday. October 25th, Minho’s birthday.

Minho’s quiet nature hadn’t changed one bit since you first sat beside him at four years old. He would rather die than start a conversation, rarely went out to the movies with your friend group and, most importantly, hated being the center of attention. That was why he told no one about his birthday since you two began high school this year. It was the subject of much debate among your little group of friends, with some bribing Minho with his favorite snacks or promising to do his assignments until college just for some sort of clue; a day, month, even the day of the week he was born.

But Minho never budged.

So, seeing a letter on his desk on the day of his birthday was odd, to say the least.

You arrived back to the classroom late after chatting to your friend from another class in the hallway, catching as Minho sat down with a puzzled look on his face and an open letter in his hands.

“What’s up?” You asked, sitting on the desk in front of him.

He looked up, thick glasses crooked from a dodgeball incident earlier that week. “Yumi found out it’s my birthday today,” He informed you, a bit too nonchalantly. “She organized a birthday party at her house tomorrow with our friends.”

You immediately took the letter, reading it and blanching at the words written in the girl’s pretty handwriting. She had found out Minho’s birthday by snooping around Facebook until she found his mother, who had a plethora of pictures of Minho on his previous birthdays. Not only that, the letter ended with a paragraph where she confessed her feelings to him — with all the clichés and dramatics only an adolescent crush could provide.

You still remember your first thoughts upon learning that information: Oh, Yumi. Of course a girl like her would do something like this.

You cringe at your words now, but at fifteen, you deemed no girl worthy of your best friend. Especially ‘girls like Yumi,’ who in your eyes all but threw herself at him. At the time, you thought you were looking out for the boy who was practically your brother. Now, you understand you were simply an insecure fifteen-year-old who allowed ugly, misogynistic thoughts to brew inside your mind out of fear of losing Minho. For your immature brain, every girl interested in Minho was an enemy because they could easily take him away from you.

And Minho had never reciprocated any girl’s feelings, always politely turning down the few confessions he had gotten during middle school. You were ready to berate Yumi, your brows immediately furrowing as your face contorted, but Minho beat you to it, speaking before you could utter a word.

“I know I should be mad, but isn’t it a little… cute?”

You couldn’t help but scoff, the sound escaping your lips like a burst of disbelief. You also couldn’t help how your hands began to tremble as your heart shot up to your throat.

“Cute?” You asked with the strongest voice you could muster. “You think her invading your privacy is cute?”

And Minho simply shrugged, tapping his fingers on his desk. “A little bit. I know you don’t really like her, but she’s part of our friend group,” He said, taking the letter from your shaky hands. “Plus, she’s always been nice to me, and she is cute.”

That was all you could physically bear to hear, excusing yourself from the conversation with the lie that your friend had called you from the classroom window before sprinting out into the hallway. As you continued walking, your palms grew clammy and your heart weighed heavily in your chest.

You felt tears well up in your eyes once you reached the stairs. Sitting on the steps, you cried into the cardigan of your ugly school uniform. You didn’t care that you would be scolded for skipping class; all you cared about was that your best friend was going to be taken from you.

After school, as you and Minho were about to exit the school gates — your hands tightly clasped together as they always were — Yumi appeared carrying a cake, the rest of your friends behind her as they all sang happy birthday.

Minho blew out the candles and made a wish. Everyone cheered as his best friend, Chan, shoved his face into the cake. Minho yelled at him, grumbling with glasses covered in white frosting, but ultimately laughing along. Yumi was quick to clean his face with a napkin, earning her a smile from Minho before he released your hand to gently squeeze her rosy cheeks.

You remained quiet, forcing out a smile and looking up at the sky every now and then so your tears wouldn’t fall.

All because Minho had let go of your hand.

Minho’s fifteenth birthday — that was the day you learned you could fool everyone else, but never yourself.

Your seventeenth summer was a drag.

Minho had just been broken up with a couple of months before, Yumi crying as she explained her parents wanted her to focus on her studies, and having a boyfriend was simply a distraction she couldn’t afford if she wanted to be a doctor someday. An unwilling participant in the entire situation, you sat awkwardly at the bus stop as she spoke.

You were ready to witness Minho cry for the first time in your life, maybe yell about how unfair her parents were being, but he simply pressed a kiss to her forehead just as your bus arrived.

Not much had changed when he began dating Yumi, with you learning that suppressing how you truly felt was worryingly easy. You still hung out with them, battling through their cuddles and kisses like a soldier on the front lines of a war. Never unscathed, but always strong. Nobody needed to know about how you cried into your mother’s arms almost every night before falling asleep.

The only change had been you and Minho’s daily gaming appointments. You two had since outgrown your video game phase, both now interested in diverging things that made it impossible for you to enjoy them together. You discovered your love for flowers went beyond doodling on the sidewalk in front of a flower shop, but Minho complained that growing flowers was too time-consuming, and he loved dancing, which you were far too uncoordinated and lazy to even try doing.

And so, you two settled for simply hanging out together at your house. Your room had easy access to the roof, which you two took full advantage of, setting up a permanent blanket fort where you would snuggle up with pillows and talk for hours after school.

That summer was no different, with Minho stretched out across the old mattress, watching the light pink sky slowly fade away as night set in while you two busied yourselves talking.

That was the day you finally gathered the courage to ask Minho about his breakup, desperate to understand why he had appeared so unfazed. After the one-year milestone of their relationship in February, you had begun to make peace with the fact that she would probably be around for a while.

Minho shrugged at your question, hands resting on his stomach while he gnawed on his bottom lip. He explained he was sure that he liked her, but it turned out he valued her as a friend much more than as a girlfriend.

You couldn’t help but scoff at the answer. You knew Minho better than you knew yourself at times, which was why you knew he was lying through his teeth.

“Why did you stay so long with her, then?” You questioned, the resentful lilt in your voice a bit too obvious. You cleared your throat before adding, “I mean, you surely didn’t act as just friends.”

“I guess I felt lonely before,” He explained. “I was selfish for staying with her, but I enjoyed having someone. Was especially nice after…” Minho trailed off, dismissively shaking his head, and you remember being close to throwing him off that roof as he kept being so damn enigmatic.

“After what?” You prodded, “Minho, I’m your best friend. What’s the point of us talking if you’re not gonna tell me the truth?”

He turned his head to look up at you, the darkening sky making his eyes gleam as if they held an entire galaxy of stars. You felt that familiar nervousness return.

“It was nice to not be so alone after so many years of pining after someone.”

You cocked your head to the side, and Minho had the gall to chuckle at your puzzled expression. You shook your head, mumbling to yourself that your conversation was pointless if he wouldn’t tell you the whole truth.

Lying next to him on the mattress with a sigh, you could feel the weight of Minho’s gaze on you. You couldn’t bring yourself to move.

You remember the moon was already high in the sky by the time one of you finally moved — Minho, who slowly inched his hand closer to yours before clasping it tightly in his. Despite your racing heart, you thought nothing of it. He was now single, so it wouldn’t be ludicrous to assume a habit you two had cultivated for many years would naturally return.

However, after some beats from your erratically racing heart, Minho’s fingers intertwined with yours. You had never done that before, always holding hands in a way that all but screamed platonic.

That night, with his thumb caressing your skin and his hand squeezing yours, Minho finally spoke the truth after so long.

“It’s you,” He said, tone nonchalant but voice audibly shaky. “Think I’ve been pining after you since I was nine and ripped my tooth out ‘cause I thought that’d make you stop being sad.”

You remember gasping quietly and his hand tightening around yours as the clock ticked and your silence remained. You remember finally mustering up the courage to turn to look at him and being met by an expression you had rarely seen on Minho’s face in the thirteen years you had known him — he was scared, wide eyes dancing around your face as if he looked for an answer in your features, his chapped lips parted slightly as if he was ready to backtrack the moment he saw any hint of doubt in your eyes.

You remember smiling at him and how his expression shifted into pure confusion. All it took was for him to finally have the nerve to hold your hand in the way he’d always wanted to, and for you to use his courage as a catalyst for your own. You remember how you closed the distance between you two and pressed your lips to his. You remember it feeling weird because you were kissing Minho, your best friend.

But you also remember it feeling right because you were kissing Minho, your best friend.

Your transition from being best friends to being in a relationship was easier than you had ever thought it would be — it was also slower than you could have ever imagined.

Minho never asked you out or confessed his feelings beyond what was said on the roof, and neither did you. It was a shared knowledge between you, a silent agreement that didn’t need words — at least for now. The little gestures and subtle changes left no doubt in your minds that you two were, in fact, no longer just friends — like how you began to always intertwine your fingers while holding hands, or how Minho would pull you onto his lap when you hung out with your friends, or how you would rest your head on his shoulder as he played with your hair during lunch break.

Your friends certainly had questions, the confusion written all over their faces easy to read like a book, but you both knew they also understood your relationship without you needing to make a big deal out of it.

You picked him up from dance class every weekend, sometimes arriving earlier just to catch a glimpse of him through the glass door, as Minho insisted he was too embarrassed to dance in front of you.

One day, thoroughly unprompted, he reached into his backpack as you two exited his dance academy and pulled out a yellow tulip. You had furrowed your brows at the sudden gesture, and Minho nonchalantly told you that planting your favorite flower was surprisingly easy. Since becoming teenagers, you had stopped going to Ms. Kim’s flower shop, and you had long forgotten about how you two used to have your own respective flowers back in the day.

It seemed Minho hadn’t forgotten.

That was one thing you had come to know about him only after you began dating. Although he seemed cold and distant on the outside — rarely communicating his feelings through words — Minho secretly kept a mental note of every little detail about the people he cared about, and he unfailingly found a way to communicate his feelings through actions. Such as promptly handing you a brand-new flower he had picked before you even had the chance to mourn your tulip as it began to wilt.

You, on the other hand, had always been the type of person to communicate through words; spoken, written, or read, which is how you began saving your best daisies from the small garden you created in your backyard and practicing your flower arrangement skills exclusively by making pretty bouquets you could gift to Minho (always with little notes hidden among the flowers).

Your once explicitly platonic roof dates also left no room for doubt, as making out under your usual tent became a hard-to-break habit. In fact, that was how your family found out about your relationship. You were eighteen, with graduation just around the corner, when your mother caught Minho kissing you as tears welled up in your eyes at the thought of having to be apart from him during college (although you both knew that would never be the case, as you always moved mountains simply to stay together).

Everything was slow-paced, and neither of you had any desire to rush anything. Once, Minho told you he had waited eight years to finally kiss you, and somehow, that anticipation was what had made it all the more special.

And so, your first proper date only happened six months after your first kiss, and your first fight only happened a year and a half into your relationship. Not to mention your first I love you, which had been a slip-up that happened only in your first year of college after a drunken night with Chan and Minho. Your head on his lap, your tulip nestled among his daisies in a pretty vase on the coffee table as Chan hummed along to some song that came from his phone. You felt as if your entire being was filled with pure gratitude at that moment, and the liquid courage that flowed through your veins only helped you mutter out how much you loved Minho.

He looked down at you, hands cupping your cheeks with a silly smile adorning his face, and simply answered, “Well, I love you more.”

Your carefree attitude toward your relationship was almost a contrast to the one you had with your friendship. You and Minho had met so young that you could never truly pinpoint when you had become such close friends. You always wondered if that was what led you two to be so easygoing with what most people rush into. Things happened when they were supposed to happen.

You remember one of Minho’s new friends, Changbin, asking something about your sex life at some party during freshman year, and you two nonchalantly answering that you didn’t really have one. Your friends’ shock was understandable, but you and Minho only laughed.

Things happened when they were supposed to happen.

It was Minho’s 21st birthday, when your flowers were no longer in bloom, but your love remained blossoming like it was mid-spring. He had, as always, vetoed any and every plan of a celebration suggested by your friends. He opted to stay in with you, cuddling under a blanket fort like you had been doing for so many years. Chan graciously offered to sleep at a friend’s dorm, leaving your small shared apartment just for you and Minho.

He hadn’t planned for anything to happen, and neither had you. You were simply lying together, watching the flickering of the candles you had set up around the coffee table, recounting the innumerable memories you shared when you suddenly felt the earnest, all-consuming need to have Minho as close as possible.

It was clumsy, both of you inexperienced and nervous. Your teeth crashed together and your hands gripped each other tightly, the realization of the intensity of your yearning becoming undeniable. At some point, the entire tent collapsed on top of you, and laughter filled the room for a brief moment before being replaced by your sighs and whispered moans.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was you and Minho.

Graduation day was a blur in your mind.

It had all started with Minho and Chan drunk at eleven a.m., offering you the awful-tasting omelet they had cooked in your cramped kitchen. They then went on to zone out for most of the ceremony after stumbling out of your apartment.

You approached Minho after he was done taking pictures and getting scolded by his family for being drunk on his graduation day, his mother giving you an apologetic look as you whisked him away.

“You’re stressed,” you pointed out.

“Yeah.”

“Me too,” you replied with a sigh, resting against a large tree far enough away from the hustle and bustle of recently graduated students and crying families. “So is Chan. Don’t think I’ve seen him this drunk since Jisung’s birthday party last year.”

Minho chuckled, shifting on his feet and toying with the fabric of his gown. You furrowed your brows; he only ever got fidgety when hiding something. You learned that for the first time when you were thirteen and he had to wait until your birthday to tell you he’d gotten you two tickets to see your favorite band, and again when he had to keep Chan’s then-girlfriend’s plans of asking him to move in together a secret.

“You’re not nervous ‘cause of graduation, are you?”

You remember the way he stilled almost immediately.

“We always tell each other the truth, right?” He asked.

You remember the way your whole world spun as he pulled out a small box from his pocket and how everything seemed to fade into a white mist that surrounded Minho like a spotlight as he proposed to you.

Your wedding was small — both because that was how you had wanted it to be and because of your lack of money for a proper party.

After graduating, Minho became a dance teacher at the academy he attended as a teen, teaching little kids who he said always reminded him of you two. You used the money your parents had saved for you to travel after college to buy the old flower shop that held so many memories from your childhood. Neither of you used your degrees, and neither of you made a lot of money, but you were overflowing with an infatuation for life and a love for each other so great that it made up for any silly inconvenience that dared to come up.

The ceremony was held at a local church — although neither of you was particularly religious, that was the cheapest place available. You opted to walk down the aisle together; hands clasped the way you used to do for many years while walking home from school. Minho held onto a daisy bouquet you made, while you held the single tulip he had picked out for you that day.

“I’m not good with words,” was how Minho began his vows, the glow of the fairy lights and candles adorning the church rendering his attempt at hiding his tears futile. That was the first time you had ever seen him cry in the twenty-one years you’d known him. “But I think that never mattered with you. You know me better than I know myself. Most times, I don’t even have to say a word, and you’ll still understand me. It’s been this way since we were four, and you understood why I was so quiet, and you still chose to be my friend. Thank you for understanding me, and thank you for allowing me to love you. Loving you is what I do best and look how lucky I am; I’ve been able to do it for my whole life.” He then shot you a grin, the back of his hand wiping away your tears. He ended his speech with a line that was so very Minho, thought up with sincerity but spoken primarily to make you smile. “You’ve always felt like home, and I can’t wait to feel that way until we’re both food for the worms to eat.”

You had never cried so much as you did on the day of your wedding — which was remarkable, seeing as you’d been a crier your whole life. You remember the irony of it all; Minho, who had never been good with words, telling you about his love with words that came from his heart and spilled from his lips without any rehearsal, while you were rendered speechless and too emotional to even attempt to form a coherent sentence.

Your wedding vow was a simple, choked-up, “Thank you for being my best friend, Minho.”

Minho carried you home from the church, with your cheeks flushing pink and his smile beaming as your friends made rice cascade around the two of you like snow. It turned out the boy who hated attention didn’t mind the spotlight so long as it meant showing off his love for you.

Your honeymoon was spent in your small house above your flower shop — which you named Daisy’s Tulips — where you cuddled under a blanket fort the entire day, only leaving the comfort of the pillows and fluffy covers well after midnight to adorn the sidewalk in front of your house in a brand new chalk drawing.

“Can you imagine if we never said anything?” Minho suddenly wondered aloud, his chuckle echoing through the quiet street. “We were both pretty good at hiding our feelings for so long.”

And you simply shook your head, painting a daisy with white chalk on the sidewalk. “Minho, I know you. You wouldn’t have let me keep pretending after finding out I liked you too.”

“Who says I would have found out?”

“You said it yourself,” you explained, “I know you better than you know yourself, and that’s reciprocal. You would’ve found out ‘cause I can never hide anything from you.”

And Minho smiled, taking your hand in his just as you were done with your drawing. Your gaze shifted toward him, and you admired the man he had become. From the shy little boy who sat beside you to the quiet teenager with thick glasses to the man he had grown into; you loved every version of Minho you had the privilege to meet throughout your life, and you were certain you would love every new version of him you came to know in the future as well.

“Of course you can’t,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I’m your best friend, aren’t I?” He asked with a grin, and you nodded. He then added, “Thank you for being my best friend.”

♡ taglist: @bloom-ings, @linocz, @farahia, @mirbokk, @jisunglyricist

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relocatedheads · 1 year

Note

would you write eddie munson x fem!reader smut?

where eddie’s chilling in his girls‘s room, bored because she’s taking a shower. he’s kinda snoopin’ around & finds a pastel pink book. he’s curious & starts reading it, realizing it’s her diary. he skips to the last page, dated just a few days ago. his eyes widen, not believing what he’s reading about his innocent girl.

sure they had sex. and not that vanilla, too. but he would’ve never thought his girl had thoughts like that. on this very page, his girl wrote her hidden fantasies. things she never even thought of telling eddie, too embarrassed. she’s talking about how she wants to call eddie „daddy“, or be choked, be humiliated to the brim, be filled by his cum till he’s dry, want him to be in complete control. she wants to be fully submitted to him.

before he can put the diary away she comes out of the bathroom, catching him. he confronts her & she tells him how embarrassed she is etc. they talk it out & he reversals that some of the stuff she likes he likes too. then they make out & they try out some of the stuff.

Oh my god you're an evil genius, time I put my 4 years of journaling to good use! - also ive been working on this all week and the 'h' key on my keyboard keeps getting stuck and its making typing no longer fun :/

Written Fantasies

Summary: ^^ the ask Pairing: Eddie x Reader Trigger Warnings: Smut / Embarrassment / hands on throats - no chocking Content Warnings: Diary Reading / blow jobs / impoliteness / shoe frontage / demands / deep throating / reader masturbation

MY EDDIE MASTERLIST BABY!!!!!!!

The space was as recognisable as the back of his hand, and as comforting as his denim vest: lightly coloured walls, cabinets around the room, shelves and counter tops filled trinkets and lifes memorabilia: photos of events, pretty candles, books, small trinkets of days out, wrist bands and broken watches that simply just meant too much.

Things changed every time he entered this space: photos changed frames, boxes gained new records, the cassette piles grew, and the books changed order.

Eddie clocked - while laying on your bed waiting for you to come back from your shower - that not only had the books changed but new ones were added. when he sat up to take a better look: there were 4 books, all identical sat up together leaning on a pile of published books.

The 4 were pink, all the same size, some slightly thicker, one especially thinner. All with individual dates written into their spines: 1983, 1984,1985, 1986. He weren't no idiot, his brain sorted that they were diaries.

He felt a twinge of pride for you to have the left out on display - almost like trophies, proud of your past. He knew a lot about you but you'd seemed to have never told him you wrote a diary. Eddie knew it was standard procedure you don't read people diary: just as you don't snoop in artists sketch books or dungeon masters binders. But who would he be kidding if he said he didn't wanna read it.

He thought a moment, concentrating and recognising the shower was still running. He didn't have to think too much, the boy was running on curiosity alone. Sat up on the edge of your bed, he leant over and pulled 1986 into his hands.

It started with him just flicking the pages: most of it empty; a few loose sheets tucked into the back; a pen clipped to the elastic closer. The filled side of the book was set out meticulously: a yearly planner already almost filled with exams, cheer practice, birthdays, appointments, dates with Eddie, every Tuesday marked with Hideout at 7, every odd Friday marked Hellfire!.

There was this warmness in his heart, knowing his life was just as important to you as it was for him. He believed every I love you, but know he understood every I love you.

He flicked through the book more: budget planners, goal pages, period trackers, and the body. Filled with your typical too-curly-to-read handwriting, every page filled line for line. Some sitting half empty signifying the end of an entry.

Eddie couldn't possibly understand what you had to write about for long that you wouldn't just tell him or your friends.

He found the dog eared page, the scruffily written date marking yesterday. Eddie smiled to himself, feeling a little giddy. He knew he shouldn't but he really couldn't stop himself.

As he read down the page: a recall of your date to the record store and diner, small notes of your gushing over Eddie's chivalry (he always thought holding doors open and little pet names were usual things), a detailed explanation of his outfit and how you loved it (he read that a few times, remember to wear his little thigh harness around you more often.). And as he continued to read, the writting felt less confident, as though there as a topic waited to be hinted at.

He skipped over to the next page and down it, finding a few words grabbing his eyes: touch myself, embarrassing, chocked, him, daddy.

His eyebrows rested in his hairline, eyes almost leaving his skull, the warmth on his checks wasn't imagined. He jumped back a few lines:

Jesus I feel 14 again. I dont know why he does this to me. I see him everyday, and yet im still pinning over him like he's some untouchable deity.

He reads down

We have sex so much but like every night I end up touching myself thinking about- its so embarrassing! I feel like ive been poisoned!! literally none of my friends are like this about their boyfriends!

yeah we all talk about sex but they all have usual sex and normal fantasies but like I feel like a deviant. if I ever told anyone what I really want they'd all look at me so weird

but if I think about sex with him about him all I can think of is his hands and his lips and his voice! and if Im actually honest with myself, all I want is him. I cant stop. ive got into this habit of thinking about him before I go to bed and like every night I touch myself to him.

literally seem like I cant just have him- and I so can but I want so much more!

like if I really thought about it: I'd love him to just use me, do whatever. He could fuck me, make me fuck him, cum in me, chock me, spit on me and I'd be so fucking happy!

Or like, my brain keeps thinking to what if we're fucking and someone hears or we're almost gonna get caught and it turns me on so much! I feel like a pervert.

Eddie felt himself hold his breath.. he was no prude, under his bed was riddled with lost porn mags, he know a lot about kinks and fetishes but something about hearing from you - sweet, quite, calm you- shit! He was getting all flustered.

And like also! keep calling him Daddy in my mind too - I dont know where thats come from but it feels so right! I just really want him to just have his way with me. I dont know how on earth I tell him this. this is so embarrassing.

Eddie was transfixed by your confessions: the sound of the water had slipped his ears. Let alone, he hadn't heard the floor creak and wind chance as you entered the room.

"Jesus babe! You scared me- can't make a guy jump like that!" He yelped, the towel hitting the bed making him jump back into real time.

You laughed at him at first... until your eyes danced around him... and what he had in his hand. You didnt need to ask to know. And almost instantly you felt your body tense, mind go blank and cheek redden. Hands sat in on each other, lips rolled in, eye popping out almost. "Um-"

Confident as ever, he laid back into your pillows, straightening out his legs, "Didn't know you thought like this, Sweetheart.." He started reading, "Kinda want him to fill me until hes dry-"

You leapt onto him - to be honest the word doesn't cut it. You practically jumped on him, trying to grab the book from him but he was swift... dodging your hands artfully as he continued reading. His light and teasing voice was harmonised by your loud commands for him to stop. The room had laughter too: Yours was embarrassment and his was humour.

After a particularly wobbly Eddie! he put the book down, giving you a perfect moment to sling it back onto your cabnit. "Please stop." You frowned.

"Awe sorry baby," He laughed, pulling you down for a cuddle, "It's really hot though." You whined, "It is! Fuck babe," He sighed, "I really didn't think you'd wanna do anything like that!" It surpassed you how he had this ability to never be ashamed or embarrassed about anything. He dipped his head into your neck, "Like being chocked, filled with my cum. fuck, even messy..."

"Shut up!" You leant up, hands flying to his face, coving his mouth and you were straddled to his hips. "I can't believe you- I'm so embarassed!"

"Why?" Earnest and lovie as he moved your hands down.

"You were never meant to find out..."

"Why, you know im into anything?"

"Embarassing."

"No its not."

"yes, it is."

"You know," he started rubbing your thighs, "I'd love to fuck you dumb, fill you up, have you all messy-"

Now you'd be lying if you said he wasn't affecting you- you were embarrassed but so secretly turned on. Your tummy tensed, the blood went to your head, your thighs stiffened. But still your embarrassment was bigger, "Stop making fun of me!"

"Baby baby baby" He cooed, pulling your hands from your face, "I promise i'm really not."

You whined at him, he mimicked you back, pulling you down for a delicate honest kiss. It was deep and slow, him offering his truth to you. And who wouldn't melt into that? His hands now found your hip and your neck, in to your lips his mumbled "Roll over."

You gasp as he rearranges you both, your back now to the bed, "Wanna try something." He sat up continuing, "We can't your little sexual fantasies now-" You squirm in embarrassment, "But" He began stroking your cheek in efforts to pull you out your head. "I wanna try something new.""

He leant down planting a sweet kiss to your lips though you tried to chase him for a second, he was already moving down into your neck, planting even sweeter ones there. You could never stay quiet for his sightly chapped lips and heavy hands - small mewls slipped from you. "Good girl." Quiet, practically breathed from Eddie.

"We can't try the public-people-home stuff, but" another neck kiss, "I do.." another kiss to the other side, "really like the idea" a kiss under your ear, "of having you fully submitted" a kiss to the shell of your ear "to me"

The way you gasp makes Eddie sure he's hit gold with you. As he talks, your hand in his hair pulls and squeezes more, "How about," He moves along to kiss your cheek, "I get you on your knees" Another kiss, "no pillow, because desperate whores don't deserve kind treatment." A light kiss to your lips, "And I let you blow me?" Another kiss, "But" Kiss "I'll be holding your head," He was now resting on his forearms, fingers lost in your hair, "Pushing and pulling you exactly how I want?" Another light kiss met with a hearty pull of your hair, "Fill that little mouth up with my cum."

God you were in heaven - how did you manage to get a boy like him. All you felt you could do was nod at him. A tap of your thigh and you were on the floor kneeling between his legs as he sat on the edge of your bed.

Looking up at him, the shy coy expression fell naturally on you, "Pretty girl, aren't you?" He complimented. "Get on with it then." It was like a switch was flipped.

Excitedly, you get his belt and jeans off. His dick was hard and pretty as ever - not too big but a little wide, a more red tint than the rest of him already bleeding pre cum.

You got personal with it, licking the beed off, replacing it with a kiss. Eddie couldn't help the sigh - you ruin him on the daily no matter what you do. You could get lost playing with his head. He helped by tucking your hair behind your ears, keeping his hands on your lower head and jaw.

The kisses turn into kitten licks met with you looking up at him, his spaced out satisfied look made you smile, "Shit- open your mouth for me."

Sat up a bit more, the head of is cock resting on your lower lip, palms lost behind his calves: you were ready to try something you never thought you'd get to. The hands in your hair pushing you down slowly, and pulled you back up even more delicately - he giving both of you the space to gauge how yous felt.

"Suck it a bit harder" You did. "fuck-you love this, don't you?" You nod.

It was really all he needed - he didn't even need verbal confirmation, just the feel of your nails in the backs of his legs and how your eyes were rolled back and closing was enough, not to mentions the light noises in your throat. He pushed you down with more force, hands now cupping your cheeks and jaw.

He didn't make you deep throat him - neither of you needed to go that far at the moment. The half of his dick that was still straining your jaw send your brains both tumbling.

Eddie yanked you off him with a rough tug to your hair pulling a throat whine out of you, "Shit babe- you're a little slut aren't you?"

You nodded dumbly, "For you- love you."

"I love you too," A thumb stroked your cheek, "Daddy loves you."

Maybe it was the name. Maybe it was the humiliating reminder he had read you diary. Maybe it was the whispering in the empty quiet house. Maybe it was just him. But you were sure he'd just written you off to hell. You felt a beed of slick drop from your cunt.

And Eddie practically felt it too: he could see the haze covering your pretty eyes and the cheeky smile that covered your face.

A thumb toyed with your lip, he continued, "Gotta get you a little collar with my name on it." And with that you basically purred at him. Eddie was sure he was lost in you as you started to barely suck his thumb.

He'd never had you so spaced and floaty. Sure you've both spoken through sex before but nothing like this, nothing so painfully skilled in what the other actually needs to hear. Sex had never felt so possessive until right now.

The sight of you both was like it was from a porno: you, puffy lipped, half lidded eyes and big breaths; Eddie, pointed look, panting, loved up eyes.

The other hand dropped from your cheek and sat around your neck back - the pressure alone made your eyes flutter - and the sight went straight to his dick.

He popped his thumb out your mouth and brung you up for a dirty, messy, deep kiss. No coordination, just lust. Teeth smacking teeth, uncomfortable postures, hands gripping and clawing where ever they could.

He pulled away, standing up as if to leave. But you whine is stopped when you see he leant against your cabinet. Very idolly, he picked up the diary searching for the place he left off on, commanding a "Come here" using his fingers to make a curling motion, not even bothering to look up at you. "Crawl" He sneers almost as you go to get up.

Granted the space wasn't so big so the crawl was more of an awkward on-you-knees- shuffle but boy did that embarrassment climb back up inside you. If this was with anyone else, the pang of embarrassment woulda been too much, but something in Eddies low murmured tone did something totally new to you. "You're a good little pet, aren't you?"

His eyes never left the book in front of him: flicking through pages, scanning for the right sentence. He began reading off again. Completely as though it was the Sunday news paper and not your kinkiest secret fantasies.

"Eddie stop-"

"You know thats not my name." Eyes still in the book, tone stern and cold. You positioned on your claves between his legs, just waiting. "Thought you liked this? I know this isn't as good as being caught but its pretty close, right?" Finally he looks over.

The sudden feeling of something under you made you squirm, "Go on," He continued, "Get yourself off while I read your silly little diary."

The feeling that swelled in your belly was indescribable. It was overwhelming, unignorable and life changing. Like a duckling to its mother, you blindly listened: beginning to slowly rub yourself on the top of his foot.

"Suck my cock too, Sweetheart." He completely disregards you, finally finding his place on the pages. But he didn't start reading until he could feel your lips kiss his cock head.

You try to loose yourself in kissing him and the weight on your tongue but the perching reminder of what he is reading keeps pulling you out. The blood in your ears and the cotton in your brain were getting thicker.

You felt a ring or two pull on the strands of your hair, your gasps causing you to suck his in harder. You felt the rings apply more of a push at certain points of Eddies reading.

It's all sort of too dirty to really feel like its real life. Nobody really experiences this stuff right? Like it's all just movie magic? Clearly not. Clearly somehow you'd hit the jackpot. Somehow in small little irrelevant Hawkins in the mid 80s, you'd met the jack pot.

The sound of a book hitting a surface pulls you from your slack, readjusting yourself back to the present, you felt two hands play with your hair with more intent.

"Fuck-you sure know how to suck a dick, don't you?" He tucked some behind your ear, making you look up at him "Who taught you that?"

"You-da-daddy." Jumbled delivery thanks to the cock in your mouth.

"Sorry couldn't hear you."

"da-daddy" You tried, but sadly coming out more like 'dabby' thanks to the 5 inch obstruction in your throat.

The palms by your ears tighten, "good" It was almost like an extended sigh, "You gonna take it? Tap me if it's too much, yah?" Serious and caring, you nod.

"Yes" You respond to the eyebrow raise, "Yes daddy."

"Good little thing, aren't you?" Another tuck of your hair, and he pulled your head back in opposition to his hips going forward. He was using you clearlessly, not yet pushing you down as deep as he could, but rather just enjoying your lightness.

The room enters a soundtrack of hisses and hums, some slurps and some groans.

"I told you to get yourself off." It wasn't rude but you felt like you were being told off. Your heart pinged in your chest.

It was annoying how good it felt. Yes your knees stung and the carpet has turned into staples but who cared. The hands behind your ears making you deep throat him were heaven, the foot under your clit was heaven, Eddies musky smell was heaven.

Hums and hisses turned into the sound of fabric rubbing and small 'fuck's and 'shit's. And at this rate the streams of dribble coming off your chin and too the floor was definitely anything but disgusting.

Looking up at him and seeing him looking down, heaven too. "Gonna cum in your mouth." You really couldn't help the whorish whine. "Don't swallow it."

Something about that single demand got you were you needed it too. The swelling between your legs seemed to his its peak, the sheen of sweat tripped and your body felt like it was burning. Finger burring into his thighs, tummy tensed: you came over his foot, eyes rolled into the back of your skull.

Eddie using this as the perfect moment to use you. Seeing a moment where you'd given him your everything, he gripped you harder and thrusted deeply into your throat.

Still in your post orgasm haze, the 2 boney hands drag you up by your arm pits, a leg helps keep you stood. "Open." You couldn't even see him at the moment, but you knew behind the black was a man staring at you with all his love.

So you did as he told. Mouth open, cum threatening to spill, "Good, swallow." There was a hand to your throat, and them butterflies danced again. And then there was a light press to your lips that helps bring your eyes back open.

Neither of you could help getting lost a bit in the other - this was a big step, a big new, a good thing too! Eddie broke your moment off and tucked you into his chest, coddling you.

"I love you"

"I-love- you too"

He laughed at your breathiness. "Can we have an actual conversation about this now"

"Gimme a minute- I think my brains all mush."

He laughed again and gave a kiss to your hair.

#help I wrote this all out and it didnt save and I could look at this point for like 2 weeks after.#but she is done!!#I hope ive done your ask well #this was fun!!!!#relocated heads ask #Eddie munson #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson fluf #Eddie Munson soft #stranger things smut #Eddie munson fanfiction #joesph Quinn smut #Eddie Munson ask #joesph quinn #st4 #Eddie Munson headcanons #joesph Quinn fluff #joesph Quinn fanfiction

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octuscle · 1 month

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this is an urgend call for help! I'm a 29yo teacher in europe and I have a problem with one of my students. He's 18yo, the star of the soccer team and of the whole school. he's looking at me and talking with me in a very special way. So I think he has a crush on me. I've to give him a lot of detention but he seems to enjoy it. Last time he says at the end: "soon you're one of us - your countdown is on...' pls tell me he hasn't used your program. If he has, stop this countdown immediately

According to a scribble in the student restroom, you are supposed to be the school's sexiest teacher for the third year in a row. Someone has sketched your cock next to this note. Obviously life-size, because the doodle is impressively large.

Well, you can't be the sexiest teacher for the third time because you've only been here at the school for two years. Before that you were at university. First in Milwaukee. Then actually only for two semesters in Lund, Sweden. But you fell in love with Sweden. And now you are very happy to have got a job as a sports and math teacher at the sports high school in Malmö. Sport here at the school usually almost automatically means "soccer", but as a native American you have less to do with it. Your sports are badminton, athletics and windsurfing in the summer.

You almost despair of the soccer star. A stinking lazy pupil. Certainly not stupid. But really lazy and uncooperative. According to his coach, he is the most disciplined person imaginable on the pitch. Here in math class, he's definitely not. Absolutely not! "Soon you'll be one of us - your countdown is on". That was yesterday… Today, once again, he didn't even show up for math class. Shit, he's ruining his whole career. Besides, you kind of miss him… He's not just a student… He's also kind of… A buddy! Damn, you can't have thoughts like that with a student!

You are looking for your student on the soccer field. Of course he's there. Of course he doesn't have a guilty conscience. Shit, of course you can understand him. After all, soccer is your life too. It was always your dream to become a professional soccer player. But unlike him, you were simply never good enough.

You try to talk him into his conscience without being such a bourgeois. You want to come across as cool. But on the other hand, you also know that you have to assert yourself as a teacher. It's your last traineeship. You'll graduate next year. Now you're still somewhere between the teachers and the students. It's a shitty situation. And the jock just laughs at you when you reprimand him. He says you'll soon be in detention together.

You are actually a really hard-working student. You are very keen to do well in your exams. You definitely want to work as a teacher at this sports high school. Soccer and math. That would be exactly your combination of subjects. But you can't study tonight. The day as a volunteer at the school was really exhausting. Before you go jogging for another hour, you look in the mirror as you change into your sports clothes. The fucking spots just won't go away. You still look a bit like you're still in puberty. But you finally seem to be growing hair on your chest. Maybe you will become a real guy after all. Whether the soccer star likes hair on his chest. Or if he has any himself? The thought of him gives you a boner!

When you wake up the next morning, you pick up where you left off yesterday. With a boner. My goodness, since you've been doing the internship here at the school, you've been kind of hard all the time. Of course, you've got a whole lot of damn tight guys among the other freshmen at your university… But the boys here at the sports high school are in a different league. They wank wherever they go and wherever they stand. And since you've been here, you've joined in.

You've been given a single room at the sports boarding school for the duration of your internship. You have a washbasin in your room, but you share the toilet and shower with the boys from the upper school. You're 21, hardly older than the guys who will be graduating this year. But you're still not allowed to fuck them. Even as a freshman and an intern, you are formally a member of the teaching staff. What a load of shit! How you'd love to let the star of the soccer team fuck you in the shower. It's obvious he wouldn't be averse either.

The internship sucks. Sitting in class without being able to shape it but already knowing everything is even more stressful and boring than it is for the students. Nevertheless, you try to look like you're paying attention and taking notes. This is actually more of a strategy to avoid falling asleep. You can hardly wait until soccer practice finally starts. You can just play along. You're more of a pupil than a teacher. The coach praises you and says that you're wasting a great talent as a sports teacher. He asks you to take the team star under your wing for a while. He could certainly learn a lot from you. Hehehehehe, you think to yourself. I'm sure you could from him too!

After training, you go to the gym for a bit of strength endurance training. Suddenly the soccer star is standing behind you. He runs his hand under your sweaty jersey and plays with your nipple. Thank God you're alone in the gym. You take off your jersey and he sucks on your nipples like a puppy on its mother's teats. Shit, his smell of wet grass and sweat alone is driving you crazy. With one hand you take your boner out of your pants. With the other, you push his head down. He blows like the devil. And you cum like a fire hose.

A delicate fuzz appears on your upper lip. That's the only good thing about fucking puberty. Your voice is cracking. Your pimples are annoying. And every other morning you wake up in a huge mess in your bed. Every morning that Lars hasn't blown you first. Or you blew him. You're congenial on the soccer pitch. Whatever congenial means. But the coach always says that. You think you're totally congenial in the shower and on the toilet and in all sorts of other places too. The fact that Lars and you met here at the boarding school is damn lucky!

You've been inseparable since you were 18 at the latest. During the week at Intermat, at the weekends either with your parents. Or at his. Your parents are cool. Although you're not sure if they know what you're up to.

Lars and you both think school sucks. You're here to become professional footballers. You don't need fucking math or history for that. Your coach predicts a glorious future for both of you. The man is cool. He's ancient, probably already 30 or so. But much more relaxed than your other teachers. And he'll cover for you if you skip math again. But only if you've used the time for fitness or technique training. If you don't show full commitment, the coach has no mercy.

It is an honor to have been accepted at this school. You have no intention of disgracing the school!

It's a common saying that the two of you only exist in a double pack. Your classmates have turned 'Lars' and 'Zlatan' into 'Latan'. It's no coincidence that your name is Zlatan. Your parents are huge fans of Zlatan Ibrahimoviv. And the fact that you made it to school here in his community, that you are the second Zlatan to become a national player from Rosengård, makes your parents proud. But if you become a national player, Lars will also have to play for the national team. That's a matter of honor. You look at yourself in the mirror. The fuzz on your upper lip isn't quite ready for a cool beard like the one your role model has. And your parents never allowed you to have long hair. But since you've come of age, you've let it grow. It won't be long before you look like the great Zlatan!

You don't like it when Lars and you are put on opposing teams in tournaments. But Coach is right, of course, he needs to train your killer instinct. An opponent is an opponent. Even if you occasionally get shagged by the center forward. And how you get fucked. Shit, your cock is already famous in the changing rooms near and far. But against Lars' beast… You're nothing…

It's pouring with rain. The soccer match was a mud fight. But you won. "As we agreed, the loser has to blow the winner" you tell Lars after the final whistle. "I can't wait to suck your cheesy boner clean" Lars replies with a grin. Even though almost everyone knows that you are a couple, you are usually rather reserved in public. But today… Fuck it!

#male tf #reality change #age reduction #race change #ai image

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warm-cat-hika · 28 days

Text

Stray Kids members as your high school boyfriend

pairings: highschooler!bangchan x reader, highschooler!leeknow x reader, highschooler!changbin x reader, highschooler!hyunjin x reader, highschooler!han x reader, highschooler!felix x reader, highschooler!seungmin x reader, highschooler!jeongin x reader

tags: fluff, romantic relationship, headcanons

a/n: hoping that you'll enjoy this and remember to take your delulu pills in time!

Bangchan

when you have a connected PE class, he plays harder than usual to impress you and show off his skills, just to get your words of praise

when you text him on boring classes he answers immediately but then says you should listen to the teacher and don't try distracting yourself

sometimes when he's in THE mood he can steal you from your last class just to take you out on a date

gets you snacks in the middle of the school day and sits with you on the breaks

helps you with your homework cause he's a sweetheart </3

can randomly come out of the door during your class and say to the teacher “can y/n come out for a few minutes?" and the teachers are getting pissed off by him but let you go

facetimes you every night and wakes you up for school every morning

when you have to prepare for exams he takes you out on cafe dates and helps you there with also ordering bakery and coffee

gets annoyed when he sees your bruises under your eyes

graduates earlier than you but still visits you after

Lee know

helps you on tests but sometimes can specifically say wrong answers to annoy you, but after that apologizes with your favorite snack

often invites you to his house and helps you with your homework

before classes drinks coffee with you

veeeryy often invites you on a night out to stay in his house and you spend time very nice, enjoying each others company

adds your cute/funny photos to his phone case, placing them beside his cats' photos

lets you borrow his clothes and gets fake-annoyed during this but secretly loves it

on boring classes you both listen to music in his headphones, drawing little sketches. he draws you in a funny and silly way and also draws his dear cats, and you draw him in the same way

he's insecure of his scar on his abs, but sometimes sends you pics from the gym which make you squeal and kick the air with your feets

when he stays at your house he cooks and cleans then gets praised by your mother which makes you either annoyed or happy

when your parents are saying that he would make a good husband he smirks but gets shy inside

Changbin

on the way to the school he says that you should repeat your homework. you both listen to music in the same headphones

secretly takes photos of you when you don't see it and then makes it his wallpaper

he goes to a music club and after classes plays his guitar for you, sometimes singing along

he is the initiator of your rides to different places on weekends and the one who calms down your mother, promising he will take care of you and she trusts him because how can she not trust this cutie pie?

secretly writes songs about you and his deep love for you and shows it to you on special days or randomly plays it when you two are laying on the roof, watching the sunrise

you two often buy plushies for each other which are "looking just like you!"

when you two stay either at his house or at yours he asks for cuddling and hugs you very tight, his grip at you is heavy

takes you out on night walks and being your own bodyguard

treats you only healthy food

when you pass by him at recess, without noticing him, he suddenly picks you up in his arms and runs away, right in front of everyone else

Hyunjin

who would argue that he doesn’t paint your portraits and almost all of his sketches are not you?

he often takes photos of you from the sidelines and during your walks, which then makes these photos worthwhile for you to post them on your instagram, endlessly praising Jinnie for his skills

when he walks with Kkami, he always texts you and you walk together, talking about everything

tries to help you on tests, but both of you end up failing them

lets you braid his hair and do different hairstyles

when he needs to visit a doctor, he always asks you to go with him cause he's scared

gifts you clothes and helps you style them with different items from your closet

sings you ballads

always insists on downloading those apps for couples to see each other's mood and draw on each other's screens

showers you with kisses everytime he sees you or right after you notice he stares at you for too long

Han

sometimes has bad days and invites you over to cuddle and kiss </3

sends you funny or sometimes even hot snaps

buys you coffee but says how bad it is for your heart

sleeps on most of classes and you stroke his hair

shows off his rapping skills to get praised by you

his mom loooveees you but says you could have someone better than him lol

rarely can be rude but apologizes instantly

does little dances in shops when random music starts playing

lets you hold his waist and blushes easily after

passes out when you kiss his neck

Felix

visits you every morning before classes and wakes you up, then waits for you in the kitchen, gossipping with your mum

finds the cutest couple trends on tiktok and sends you with words "we HAVE to do this one!!"

picks the most interesting and random places for your dates

in a random day can gift you flowers and sweets

when it’s pouring heavily, Felix stands on your doorstep, gets wet, but pulls you by the hand to dance in the rain, as your parents watch you from the window

often hangs out with you at gaming clubs, but you're both losers at games, so that makes it even more fun

swears accidentally when you bite him

by kissing him during your classes, you make him flustered and you can see his ears with freckles are getting red

humms you songs during facetiming and sometimes even humms lullabies in sleepless nights

loves giving you his clothes and admires the view of small you in his big clothes

Seungmin

this guy completely spaces out when you both hang out and you end up being in a total ass, + unknown ass

he's very shy but sings for you and it sounds so excellent that you literally have eargasms because of his voice alone

you're shopping for clothes together

when you walk and spot a cute puppy, you immediately show it to him and say how similar he is to this puppy

doesn't let anyone copy his homework/test, but you're his exception <3

stares at you for too long sometimes and gets flustered when you notice it

is a real TSUNDERE

you slap his ass often and he jumps because of it

sends you songs that remind him of you or makes a whole ass playlist of this kind of songs

you have each others twitter and he sees your every post, if you're complaining (mostly during classes), he teases you because S in Seungmin stands for Sarcasm

Jeongin

you order things from aliexpress using his card <3

your love language is making each other cute bracelets or rings

tweets more often than you do

you come to school in matching outfits because he truly is a fashion icon !

makes sandwiches for school and you eat them instead of him because he didn't like them

he promises you to get a fox cub after graduating, when you'll start living together

everytime he comes to your house he's nervous and asks you if your family actually likes him :(

someday this bitch can randomly send you his thirst traps in 2-3 AM and be extremely embarrassed in the morning

laughs quietly at you during a class when your answer is wrong

makes you his personal photographer because "i have only 47 pics taken this week to post, i need more!"

warm-cat-hika© only on tumblr

୨⎯ thank you for reading!⎯୧

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mrkotyarina · 3 months

Text

Happy birthday Thirteen!

(I'm a little late, but still! super sketch because I have exams at the university)

#obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me thirteen #art

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hisui-dreamer · 10 months

Note

CONGRATS ON 1K RINNAAAA :((( YOU WERE ONE OF MY FIRST MOOTS EVER AND ITS MAKES ME SO HAPPY AND PROUD THAT YOU HIT THIS MILESTONE!! THANK YOU FOR BEING ONE OF THE MOST WARM AND WELCOMING PEOPLE IVE MET IN THIS FANDOM <33 YOURE SUCH A GIFT ITS INSANE!!!!!

IM SURE THIS DOESNT SURPRISE YOU BUT!!! for the 1k event i was thinking soulmate au with azul (HEHE) except its the doodle one? LIKE WHERE YOU DOODLE ON YOUR BODY AND YOUR SOULMATES GETS THE SAME MARKINGS YK

and i have a habit of doodling sea creatures like octopi and morays on my arms and hands so i think it'd be cute for him to like, take his gloves off one day and just see a little eel on the back of his hand :((( squishy guy <3333

headcanons or a drabble is totally fine, whichever one is easier for you!!!! thank you for easing me into this fandom :(( i will never be able to thank you enough for making my anxious ass WAY less nervous <3 and no pressure if this doesnt inspire you ofc hehe you're never obligated to write anything !!! :D

the doodles that drew us together

Pairing: Azul Ashengrotto x gn!reader

Synopsis: Azul thought all his life he didn't have a soulmate...

Tags: soulmates au (doodling), reader is yuu, fluff, comfort, reader likes sea creatures, bot proofread

Word count: 591

Notes: aubbie thank you so much!!! I'm so glad we became moots, you're one of my closest friends and everything I see something azul related I think of you haha! I hope you'll enjoy this azul soulmate au ♪⁠ヽ⁠(⁠･⁠ˇ⁠∀⁠ˇ⁠･⁠ゞ⁠)

Masterlist

Azul had been fascinated by the idea of soulmates as a young mer

it was something that gave him hope, that despite all the other mean mers who would make fun of him, there was someone out there who would understand him and love him

and so he kept drawing on his arm, doodles of shells and other fish that caught his eye

but there wasn't any response.

maybe his doodles were too ugly and his soulmate didn't like them?

and so he learned to draw better, drawing again and again, hoping he would get a response

but still not a single mark would appear on him

it had been a tough blow to him, but he eventually accepted that he didn't have a soulmate

if he was going to be alone for all his life, then he had to take care of himself (because nobody would)

he became super greedy and selfish, always prioritising himself and his materialistic needs

although he also had a friendship with the tweels, he really only befriended them because they could help him out (but he did get attached to them over time)

and so, he opened the mostro lounge and became the sly businessman that we all know

on the first day of his second year, as he was going over documents after closing the lounge, he felt a slight tingle in his hand

Azul's eyebrow rose in response to an unexpected sensation. A peculiar warmth, like a gentle caress, emanated from the back of his gloved hand. Intrigued, he swiftly removed his gloves, revealing smooth, pale skin. A gasp of astonishment escaped his lips as his eyes fell upon a minuscule masterpiece, a tiny, adorable octopus delicately inked in pen.

"Is this...real?" Azul murmured, his voice tinged with disbelief. A surge of hope surged through his entire being, dispelling the weight that had burdened him for far too long.

With a trembling hand, he grasped his own pen and cautiously began to sketch his own octopus upon his wrist, with one tentacle reaching out, holding hands with your octopus.

And he can't stop he smile that graces his lips when a little heart appears between the two octopi.

What a hectic day it had been! For a magicless student to arrive in NRC and for him to finally connect with his soulmate!

...?

Oh. Azul had to speak to said magicless student as soon as possible.

when the two of you start being a couple, Azul does everything and anything for you

when you're in exams and your nervously doodling sea creatures, he'll draw some flowers nearby to help calm you down

no he doesn't help you cheat by writing you the answers, he's already given you the perfect study materials, you shoud put in some effort too

he gets jealous if you draw other sea creatures too much though, especially moray eels

he lets you work at the lounge with a very high pay, making sure you're not working too hard, and always offers to tutor you if you're struggling

his soulmate had to go to a different world just to find him, you'll be sure he helps to settle in and hopefully never leave again

Insert clingy octopus wrapping his tentacles all around you because he can't bare to let you go

when you have dates and appointments, he'll help remind you by writing on his arm

this man has waited for you his entire life, he's ready to lay the world down at your feet if you ask him to

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

#✧1k! another life✦#twstnexus #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst wonderland #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul x reader #✧auburn🐙✦

500 notes · View notes

shegxox · 1 year

Text

unsaid | lookism

getting used to being alone until you met your newfound friends at J high.

notes: hella long, unedited e.e fluff, vasco moments bc i love him, friendship moments, and some '👀' moments as well towards the end.

wc:

a.n: decided to turn this into a series with a scattered plot as well, meaning the timeline wouldn't flow in proper order,

previous : next

SOMETHING was off.

It was oddly peaceful today.

Your hand stopped sketching on your canvas, squinting your eyes in suspicion from the sudden realization. Ever since you got here in J high– specifically after meeting your friends here– there was rarely a normal day.

Rare mostly because of Vasco.

There's no such thing as a quiet day when you're friends with that guy.

He usually bursts through the doors of your classroom every morning just to greet you, or whenever lunchtime draws near he'd suddenly pop out of nowhere and invite you to eat with him together with a bunch of burn knuckles members faithfully trailing behind him.

That's just the fifty percent, the other half goes to the guys at the fashion department.

But today, it seemed like world peace has come and touched today's date for a moment.

No loud greetings from the morning nor lunch invites, you didn't even see Daniel, Mira, Zack– or even Jay with his striking blond hair.

It was definitely odd, you thought to yourself.

Perhaps today is a specially busy day? Exams are drawing near too, so that could be the reason. Then again you barely came out of your classroom today as well. You used your lunchtime to cram your deadlines and have barely eaten much, honestly whenever you start working you just go on and on until someone calls you to pause.

Yeah, that's right.

It really must be a busy day today.

Shrugging to yourself with your formed conclusion, you continued on with your sketch.

"Um, [Name]?" You felt a light tap on your shoulder.

"Hm?"

"This handsome guy from outside wanted me to give this to you. . ."

Handsome?

You finally turned to look at the person talking to you and found them with their hand out and holding a piece of paper.

Was it Daniel? You looked over at your classmate and to the door, but there was no one there. It's either him or Vasco that often visits your classroom

You flashed your classmate a kind smile, taking the paper.

"Thank you, Yeji."

With that, they left your side and went on with their respective work.

Unfolding the paper, your quirked an eyebrow from the message.

It was merely an address of some location and a time specified– 6:00 p.m

It looked shady, but your trust in the message was validated as soon as you recognized Daniel's handwriting and signature at the bottom.

"Ya," you called out to your seatmate, "Do you know what place this is?"

Your classmate turned to you as you showed the paper, subtly covering Daniel's sign with your thumb.

"Ah, that place." They nodded in familiarity. "That's actually a pretty sweet karaoke place."

Question marks immediately formed on top of your head.

"Karaoke?"

"Oh–! if you ever go there they also serve some steaks as well. You have to try the–"

Your classmate's words faded through the background as you started to question yourself.

'Why would they want me to go there?' You wondered as you finish up on your sketch before pulling out your painting materials. 'A special occasion perhaps?'

Sighing, you tried to put the thought at the back of your mind, shifting your focus once again on your project. Though you have to admit, it perfectly played around with your curiosity a tad bit, catching yourself wondering about it every now and then.

"Alright, that's it for today." Your teacher announced. "You are all dismissed– cleaners for today, you know what to do."

"Bye, miss!"

"Thank you, miss!"

You checked the time, there's still an hour and a half before the designated time of the note, what should you do for now?

"I'll stay a bit behind," You told your friend– who was the assigned cleaner for today. "You guys go, I'll clean up after."

"Ah, [Name], you're an angel!" Your friend exclaimed, giving you a quick hug and a playful smooch on the side of your head making you laugh.

"Ya!"

"I owe you one!"

With that, they were out of the room as you continued with your painting. You thought it'd be better to finish it now so you wouldn't have to do much tomorrow since it's the weekend.

"I'll go at 5:30," you uttered to yourself, "Takes 30 minutes to go there anyway. . ."

It was a good plan, except you forgot one thing.

You suck at directions.

And here's one more–

The street where the Karaoke place is?

You've never been there before.

"Fuck." Your eyebrows scrunched together as you look at the GPS on your phone, you're supposed to be facing some shop right now but instead you're facing a dark alleyway.

Timecheck, it's already 5:55. If you don't figure out where you're at right now, you're definitely gonna be late for. . .whatever this is.

"Dammit," You clicked your tongue in annoyance. "How hard is it to find a Karaoke hub with literal neon lights flashing at the front???"

You scratched your head aggressively in irritation, "Where the fuck am I??"

Looking around, the street looked like some scary setting for a horror movie, even worse– it's already getting dark.

You sighed, prompting to call Daniel about your whereabouts. What's the best thing to do when you're lost? Inform your friends, they'll definitely come and find you. . .hopefully.

As you punched in Daniel's number and place the phone on your ear, you just so happen to look up to the skies. Your left eyebrow quirks up from the uncommon sight that you see: balloons.

To be precise, a couple of pink ballons tied together at the end floating away in space.

'Man,' you thought pitifully. 'Whoever kid that let that slip must be crying right now.'

Just as those thoughts came to your mind, you suddenly heard distant cries coming up behind you

"NO! THE BALLOONS!"

"YA! DON'T CHASE THEM, THEY'RE SO FAR UP ALREADY!"

Two voices– the first one sounded so distraught while the other sounded more panicked. They're probably the owners of the balloons that you just saw floating away.

But. . . why do they sound like grown men–

"I CAN'T!" Their voice were getting nearer, they must be right behind you. "THOSE WERE FOR [NAME]!"

Instantly, your eyebrows shot upwards and eyes widened upon hearing your name.

'[Name]?'

Now that you think about it, their voices sound familiar. . .

You whipped your head in their direction, only to be caught in surprise.

"Vasco??"

He was running in your direction as you ended the call on your phone.

"[Name]??" The person behind Vasco cried out your name in surprise.

"Jace??"

"Balloons!" Vasco yelled tearfully as he stretched out his hand–as if doing so would make him able to reach them. Jace finally grabs a hold of his friend's tanktop, making him stop.

"Vasco, [Name]'s here!" He hissed in a hushed tone. "Stop it!"

"But–" Vasco turned to you with a tearful look, pointing at the distant balloons flying higher and higher. "The balloons. . ."

You raised an eyebrow as you placed your hands on his shoulders in an attempt to calm him down.

"Hey, hey– it's just balloons," You assured, soothing his arms with your thumbs. "It's okay. . ?"

"[N-Name], what are you doing here??" Jace intervened. "You're supposed to be at the Ka–"

"But the balloons are for you." Vasco suddenly revealed, tears falling down his face, "And I let them slip away–"

By now, Jace's mouth fell and his eyes turned white from Vasco's words.

"What?" You huffed a laugh, "For me? Why?"

"Cause–"

"AHAHAHA–" Jace slapped a hand over his friend's mouth harshly. "Oh, Vasco! You know him, he has a little crush on you and wanted to get you some!"

You gave Jace a look, ". . .Really? You could do better than that. . ."

"It was supposed to be a surprise." Vasco sulked. "I remembered you saying you wanted them. . ."

Ah.

Your lips parted as realization slowly started to dawn on you.

Surprise. . .

Balloons as something you wanted. . .

But that's for–

You hastily checked your phone and felt your heart pound heavily against your chest.

"You. . ." You uttered under your breath as you gaze at Vasco with wide eyes.

"My birthday. . ."

Jace facepalmed at the background.

Vasco's eyebrows furrowed as he stood up straight, taking your hands with his.

"I'm sorry, [Name]." He says sincerely. "I'll get you more balloons later."

You were still in disbelief from what was happening, "What– When did you–"

"We were supposed to surprise you." Jace sighed, finally deciding to reveal everything. "You said that you never celebrated your birthday so we came up with this."

"Why. . ?"

Why would they ever do this to you? Is your relationship with them even qualified for something like this–

"Why? Cause you're our friend!" Jace said, scoffing a laugh.

A friend.

They consider you as. . . their friend.

Huh.

Your heart throbbed painfully against your chest.

All those years of being alone and being treated like some product instead of a normal human being– they're suddenly flashing in a fast forward motion in your head.

Why now?

Vasco released your hands before taking out something from his pocket.

"Here, these are for you–" Vasco held out a couple of hibiscus in his palms. "The flowers at the store were expensive, so I uh– I just picked these off the street. . ."

Jace sweatdropped, "Vasco. . ."

Weakly lifting your hands in a cupping position, Vasco then placed the flowers on your palm. Most of their petals looked squished–probably because he stored them in his pockets, nevertheless, still beautiful.

You could feel a lump in your throat starting to form, suddenly finding it hard to swallow.

Is it proper to feel like this?

Are you allowed to?

You looked up to Vasco, eyebrows furrowed.

"Vasco. . ."

The man's eyes widened.

"H-Hey, [Name], are you okay?" He asked worriedly, noticing how your eyes suddenly turned glassy. "Do you not. . .like them?"

Jace looked at you as well, concern wrapping his expression.

"[Name]?"

Vasco started to panic, his hands hovering over your form, not knowing what to do.

"S-Sorry! If you dont like them I could just–"

The man's words were cut off as soon as you suddenly threw yourself to him. Wrapping your arms around him, engulfing him in your embrace. You stood on your tiptoes with your face buried on his chest.

For the first time in your life. . .

Are you allowed to feel this happy?

"Thank you." You uttered, before pulling away to look at him once again.

"[Name], you're–"

"This is my first time receiving a gift." You smiled brightly. "The first gift I ever had."

Vasco's eyes soften as he gazed at you, tears flowing down your cheeks.

"So this is what it feels like," You laughed. "I feel so happy."

The two men shared a look before mirroring your smile.

"I'm glad you're happy," Vasco said, placing his big hand on your head, patting it gently.

"I love your gift." You added, holding the flowers close to your chest. "I will treasure it forever."

After all that event, Jace gave Daniel a call and updated him of what happened. Shame that the surprise party was kind of ruined, but even so, it continued.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, [NAME]!" Your friends screamed happily as soon as the door to the karaoke room opened.

Almost everyone was there, giving you bright smiles and genuine expressions on their faces, you could feel butterflies fluttering around your stomach.

"You guys. . ." Your lips curved into a downturned smile, feeling like crying again.

Is this what it really feels like to have others care for you?

You cry either way like before but this time, they were tears of joy.

"Awe, [Name]." Mira approached you with open arms. "Come here."

"Oh, let me join in!" Joy chimed bouncing on her heels before aproaching the two of you.

Daniel stepped forward as well.

"Everyone deserves to be celebrated every once in a while." He smiled. "Thank you for being here, [Name]."

Your lips quivered at his words.

"Ah–" Zoe playfully hit Daniel. "You made her cry!"

"E-Eh???"

"Oh cut the emotional shit!" Zack cried out, standing up on his sit with a mic in hand, smirking.

"Let's get this party started!"

To say that you're happy with today would be an understatement. You're way happier than happy. If you were to describe what you were feeling, it would probably be a mix of all the synonyms of the words happy to form one great word.

You were over the moon.

You felt like you're the sun itself.

It felt too good to be true.

This happiness you feel is something you will hold on to for a long time.

To be surrounded by people who actually care about you makes your heart swell. You've never felt this way before.

"Don't mess this up, you got this." Zack coached you from the side

Jace started to hover his hands on his ears, "Oh god, it's coming."

"Sing from your stomach!" Daniel advised with an excited grin.

"You can do this, [Name]!"

You readied your voice as you held onto the mic tighter.

One, Two–

"–I'M IN MY DREAAAM!"

"WOOO!!"

"LET'S GOOO!"

Chorus of laughter and cheers filled the room, even Jay was dramatically clapping along with the group.

"IU WHO?"

"That was amazing!" Vasco excitedly exclaimed before repeatedly pointing at the songbook. "Let's duet this next!"

"Huh??" Zack made a face. "You can't take that, Mira and I will sing that!"

"Eh? Then just chose another song?"

"No, I can't just do that, it has to be that!"

"Zack. . ."

"Mira, that's our song, right??"

The door to the room suddenly opened and revealed Jay.

"Oh, Jay–" Daniel greeted with an endearing smile. "You're back!"

Jay had stepped out for a moment earlier and has finally returned. The blond gave a small smile and a nod.

He then turned to you, grabbing your attention.

"What is it, Jay."

Suddenly taking something from his side that was out of view, he then held out something and revealed–

"OH MY GOSH!"

You exclaimed, your mouth dropping as you fanned yourself slightly before eagerly making your way to Jay.

"Is this for me??"

The blond nodded.

In his hands, he held a big Alpaca plushie dressed in Gucci that was literally half your size.

"Thank you so much, Jay!" Wrapping your arms around him, you gave him a big hug with the plushie in between the two of you.

"That's so adorable!" Zoe commented, coming in as you pulled away and Jay handed you your gift.

Joy had a look of realization in her face, "So that's what you've been making calls for last night."

"Is this custom-made?" Daniel asked and Jay nodded in reply.

"Ugh, it's so soft!" You exclaimed, hugging the plushie tight.

"Since you're not singing, Mira and I will sing our song!" Zack announced, snatching the mic from Vasco.

"YA!"

The night went on for a few more hours and you're just in complete bliss. Your first birthday celebration is definitely something to remember.

You didn't want it to end, but, alas– some good things come to an end.

As soon as the party was over, half of the people were already drunk–of course, you're one of them.

You didn't know exactly how you even managed to get into your apartment when everything went like a blur to you, you just woke up in your room bedroom and. . .

"What the hell. . ." You murmured to yourself, eyes squinting from the sunlight that was seeping through the window. The hangover– you expected, but your room to be filled with pink balloons floating on your ceiling? You had to check if you were still drunk or dreaming.

Did they do this?

Definitely not, no one can acces your apartment but you.

They can't just decorate your room so suddenly like this?

". . ."

There's only one person you could think of.

As you looked to your side, a large bouquet of roses sat neatly on your nightstand with a black card sticking out in the midst of reds.

Suddenly, you heard a noise just outside your room, and it sounded like someone. . . cooking?

Your eyes widened, hastily getting up from your bed– stumbling on the floor as you did so, you went for the door and almost ripped the hinges from opening it so aggressively.

Your heart dropped to your stomach as soon as you saw the person in your kitchen.

"I see you're awake." They said aloud through the sizzling noises of the pan, not even bothering to look up from their work.

"Did you like the balloons? I remember you liking them like an idiot as a kid."

Your face fell blank. He just had to find you after your birthday huh?

"The roses weren't as fresh as they were yesterday, but they should still be good."

Ah. . .

Since yesterday, huh?

If you your friend's hadn't planned out your party then. . .

"What are you doing here, Gun."