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thefatedthoughtofyou · 2 months

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{ soooo.... @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe reblogged ONE werewolf post and mentioned steddie in the tags and then... this... happened. It was all spur of the moment with no planning so if you see mistakes and/or plot holes... no you don't. 😬💖 }

Warnings: Billy Hargrove, blood, wound tending, violence, if it needs anymore let me know. ✌🏻

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"I'm completely serious." Eddie says, feet kicked up on.... someone's coffee table. He doesn't remember who's party it is. Jeff nods agreeably next to him, sinking further into the couch.

"No. You've gotta be fucking joking. That would not-" Gareth tries to argue. Eddie cuts him off immediately.

"No seriously. I need a werewolf to take one look at me and go 'I'll have that.' Then claim me as their mate and never let me go." Eddie sighs, the hellfire boys erupting in chaos around him.

Normally, Eddie would join in, cause a ruckus. But he'd frozen after he'd spoken. His eyes glued to one Steve Harrington. Who had been taking a drink and promptly choked on said drink, his eyes wide when they landed on Eddie, beer or some other liquid dribbling down his chin as his cheeks flushed.

He was all the way in the kitchen, his friend Robin chattering away next to him, now wiping at his face. There's no way he could have heard Eddie. Not over the music, and the house full of shouting drunken teenagers.

Eddie watches as he finally tears his eyes away. He watches Steve grab Robin's wrist and yank her out of sight. If Eddie's lip reading was as good as it used to be, he'd said something along the lines of: "Robin. We need to go. Now."

But that didn't make any sense. Eddie was just joking. And Steve was all the way in the other room. Eddie sunk down into the couch, ignoring the way his stomach turned when he heard the front door open and close. There was no fucking way he heard him.

No fucking way.

Unless.

~°~

"Steve Harrington. Is not a werewolf. What the fuck are you even saying?" Gareth was nearly yelling now. They'd been having this conversation for almost an hour and it seemed he was at his wits end.

"Yes he is Gare! Yes he is! I would swear on it." Eddie shouts back, pointing at his friend from his position on the floor, his feet up on the couch next to Jeff. His toes wiggling under his arm every now and again to get warm.

"Swear on what!?" Gareth shrieked, his hands flailing into the air next to his head.

"Werewolves aren't real!" His voice is so squeaky now the neighbors dog has started barking.

"Jeff. Eric. You guys really not gonna help me with this?" He begs, holding his hands out to them, pleading.

"I mean..." Eric drawls, scratching at his ear.

"What?" Gareth asks, eyes narrowed.

"Maybe they are.... There was that thing with Chrissy." Eric says, his voice lilting as he looks in Jeff's direction.

"No. No no no no. We are not talking about that again either. Jeff did not see Chrissy Cunningham drinking blood." Gareth huffs, so frustrated now his face is turning red.

"I know what I saw." Jeff says with a shrug, his hand moving to Eddie's calf and rubbing it rapidly, trying to warm his cold leg for him. Eddie smiled at him and then looked back up at Gareth from the floor.

"He knows what he saw Gare. Chrissy is a fucking vampire. And Steve. Steve Harrington is a fucking werewolf. Possibly. The love of my life. Though that may be a tad unlikely. Given that he almost definitely doesn't like boys." Eddie pouts, and then startles when Gareth stomps over to look straight down at him.

"Oh is it? Is it unlikely because he doesn't like boys? Not because there's no such thing as FUCKING WEREWOLVES!?" Gareth full on yells it. His hands fisting in his hair.

"Gareth Eugene!" His mothers voice calls down the stairs.

"Sorry mom!" He yells back, turns on Jeff and Eddie when the laugh.

"It's not fucking funny. This is ridiculous. You're all ridiculous. It's not real. Fuck you guys." He hisses, keeping his voice low. Jeff and Eddie look at each other, then to Eric, all of them smile and shout,

"Gareth Eugene!" In unison. Gareth screams at them, tosses a few empty chip bags at them and throws himself into the emtpy chair next to Eric.

"You all sound, insane. You know that right?" He asks, sounding calm, and genuine again. Eddie shrugs, Eric laughs.

"Maybe you just need to open your mind?" Jeff suggests, brushing chip crumbs from his shirt.

"Open my mind? To vampires and werewolves?" He asks, arms crossed over his chest with a huff.

"Yes. Because if they exist. And mine and Jeff's crushes are one of each. Ugh. Shit." Eddie curses, his shoulder bumping the small table as he rights himself, slides his legs off the couch and kneels by the table instead.

"We could literally live our dreams." Eddie pleads, his fingers laced in front of him.

"Your dream. I don't have a dream about dating a vampire. Just dating Chrissy." He sighs, his eyes going glassy. Eddie waves him off, not even looking at him.

"I could literally live my dream. My dream of having a smoking hot werewolf boyfriend who wants to mark me and breed me and keep me forever." Eddie whines, Eric and Gareth both groaning at Eddie's details. Jeff gives no reaction, lost in his thoughts about Chrissy.

"You're crazy man. There are not secret supernatural creatures all over Hawkins. Is the whole basketball team werewolves? Is this fucking Teen Wolf? You think Steve is just gonna wolf out at the next game?" Gareth asks, his voice rising again. Eddie plops down onto his butt, elbows resting on the little table, chin in his hands.

"God that'd be great wouldn't it?" He sighs, eyes focusing over Eric's head like he can see it.

"Hey!" Gareth snaps his fingers in front of Eddie's face.

"Rude." Eddie swats at his hand.

"And who's next? Huh? Tommy and Carol? That dick Hargrove?" Gareth shoves a chip into his mouth chewing angrily. Eddie grimaces.

"Hargrove is not supernatural." Eddie shakes his head.

"He's a supernatural dick. Like... his asshole levels are way off the charts." Jeff chimes in, sinking to the floor next to Eddie and taking a swig of Eddie's mountain dew, Eddie nods in agreement.

"Yeah. He's definitely a peice of shit. But not in a supernatural way. Probably good. Honestly. Can you imagine?" Eddie's nose scrunches before he takes a drink as well. Even Gareth groans in agreement.

It's quiet for a moment. None of them talking. The occasional chip crunching or bag rustling, the pop of a soda can being opened. All of them just sitting, thinking, loudly, but in silence. And then Gareth breaks it, and his steadfast denial of it all.

"Okay. But seriously, if they're were vampires and werewolves in Hawkins we'd know about it! That's not something that could be kept secret." His voice is low now, his eyes moving over the boys around him.

"Is it?" He asks, looking slightly worried.

"I dunno. This town does have a long history of unexplained animal attacks." Eric chimes in, the three other heads in the room turn to look at him, slowly.

"What? I like history." He defends. They all go quiet again, for longer.

Eddie moving a few things here and there on the table. Jeff moving them right back just to frustrate him. Both of them slapping at each other. It devolves into a small wrestling match that Eddie wins by going completely limp on top of Jeff.

"Okay." Gareth breaks the silence again. Eddie and Jeff shuffle around, separating themselves from each other, ending up in the opposite spots as before, they notice, frown at each other, and then shrug, looking to Gareth again.

"Okay?" They ask, at the same time.

"Okay." Gareth nods, but holds his finger up at them. Their brows raised on their foreheads as they wait.

"But Steve Harrington. Is not cool enough. To be a fucking werewolf."

~°~

One week, three days, and ten hours later. The morning after the full moon. Eddie nearly hits Steve Harrington with his van.

Rain is pouring from the sky, his wipers on high, barely helping. He's heading for school, Wayne had sent him off on time after a nice plate of scrambled eggs and toast.

He didn't have any tests or quizzes today. And he'd actually remembered to do his homework. The morning was going well.

That's when the body appeared in the road just past his vision. He slammed on the breaks and had never been so happy that he'd been ripped off and over paid for new breakpads last month. The van skids to a halt, his headlights shining on the person, the naked person, in the road.

"What the fuck?" Eddie breathed. He slammed the van into park, grabbed the keys out, and jumped out into the pouring rain. He stopped, grabbed a blanket out of the back, that normally covered Gareth's drums when they traveled, and ran around the front of the van.

"Holy shit." Eddie felt like he'd been punched.

"Hi Eddie." Steve Harrington, naked, wet, waving up at him with a wiggly fingered wave, and holy shit was that blood.

"Is that blood?" Eddie blurts, his hands already shaking.

"Yeah." Steve says, like it's fine, like it's normal.

"Shit did I hit you?" Eddie falls to his knees, holds the blanet out to Steve. He eyes it, looks back to Eddie.

"You're naked." He says. Steve closes his eyes, sighs.

"Right. Thanks." He grabs the blanket, drags it around his waist as he tries to stand. The second he puts pressure on his leg he starts to fall again. Eddie ducks under his arm and catches him. Doing his best to ignore the way Steve's warm, wet, skin feels under his hands.

"Hospital?" He asks, helping Steve to the passenger door. Steve levels him with a look that tells him he should know better.

"Right. Okay. Sorry. Jeez. You just- You're bleeding kind of a lot dude." Eddie huffs, helps Steve into the van and grabs a towel from the glovebox.

His brows furrowed, he presses it to the very large fucking hole, in Steve's leg. He doesn't even flinch, his eyes locked on Eddie, and his slow, gentle movements. Steve's hand settling over his makes his whole body jerk.

"Thanks. I can do that." Steve says, softly. Eddie doesn't let go.

"You gotta put pressure on it." He says, eyes locked on the red seeping into the towel.

"I will." Steve nods, squeezes Eddie's wrist, trying to get his attention.

"Eddie?" He squeezes again, Eddies eyes move up his arm to his face.

"Yeah?" His eyes are wide.

"We gotta get outta here." Steve's own eyes widen, waiting for Eddie to understand. It doesn't take long. He whips his head around, trying to see into the trees around them, his hair completely soaked now, his bangs drooping into his eyes.

"Shit. Okay." He nods, turns back to Steve, hands over the towel to him and nods again.

"Okay. I got it." He says, not sure if he's talking to himself or Steve. Steve nods, fucking smiles, at him, and lets him shut the door.

Eddie runs around the van, jumps back in, starts her up, gets her turned around carefully, and drives.

"Did someone shoot you man?" Eddie asks after a moment, Steve groans as he presses the towel to his leg, hard, his knuckles going white.

"Yep. Sure did." Steve sounds... nonplussed. Like it's just, a normal fucking Tuesday. Which it isn't. It's very much not a normal Tuesday. Because Steve Harrington got shot. And now he's in Eddie's van bleeding. And besides all that it's fucking Friday.

Eddie's hands tense on the wheel, his own knckles white now as well. He's nodding. Just absently. His head knows Steve answered him, can't seem to from words to make his own answer just yet.

"You okay Eddie?" Steve asks, tugging the blanket around his waist more with his free hand. Eddie just keeps nodding.

"Where are you taking me?" Steve asks, seems to realize he wasn't going to get an answer to the previous question.

"Home." Is all Eddie says. He glances to his right, Steve's eyes are on him.

"Wayne'll know what to do. He'll help." Eddie nods, his eyes back on the road.

"He'll help." He says again, to no one in particular. Steve nods, bites his lip when pain shoots through his leg, doesn't quite manage to stiffle the groan of pain.

"Who fucking shot you Steve?" It's the first time he's used Steve's name, maybe ever, to his face at least. Steve snorts, it sounds like a laugh.

"Fucking Hargrove." He grunts, presses harder on his leg. Eddie's head whips to look at him, his wet hair slapping against his face.

"What? Shit. Really?" He asks, rapid fire. Steve closes his eyes and nods.

"Eyes on the road Ed's." Steve's lips turn up in a smile right before Eddie looks away, his eyes are still closed.

"Covered his scent somehow. I didn't smell him. Or hear him. Fucking asshole." Steve slams his fist against the dash, Eddie jumps, his whole body twitching, he refused to acknowledge the yelp that came out of his mouth.

"Sorry. I'm sorry." Steve breathes deeply through his nose, like he's trying to stay calm.

"It's okay. I'd be pissed too if Billy Hargrove fucking shot me." Eddie says, quickly, the words falling out of his mouth faster than he can think them. Steve snorts again, and Eddie's sure he is laughing, as well as he can, through the pain.

"Wait, he drives that blue camero right?" Eddie asks, eyes locked on his rear view mirror.

"Yeah. Why?" Steve follows his gaze, then looks into the side mirror.

"Shit." He says, trying to sit up further, or turn around, or something.

"Put the seat back and lay down." Eddie says, his hand pointing across Steve's lap to the little lever on the side.

Steve does as he's told, the seat going nearly flat. Eddie reaches behind his seat and grabs his backpack, sets it genlty in Steve's lap. Anyone passing would just be able to see the top of it.

He pushes his tape back into the tapedeck and cranks the volume. His fingers drumming and his head bobbing to the music as Billy's car rumbles up behind them, fast. Eddie's lucky he even saw it at all in the rain.

He keeps his eyes forward, fingers drumming. Pretends not to notice Hargove's car pull along side him for a moment. He twitches his head to the side, does a double take and then scowls at him, motioning to the open road ahead of them. Clearly telling Hargrove to fucking pass him already.

He does. Flipping Eddie the bird as he goes. He does a u-turn in the middle of the road and speeds back past them, the water from his tires splashing across Eddie's windshield.

He flips the wipers back up and keeps his eyes on Billy's car until it disappears back into the rain. He grabs his bag off Steve's lap and sets it by his feet instead as Steve sits up with a groan. Pulling the lever again so the seat comes with him.

"That was pretty good." Steve sighs, leaning against the window. Eddie turns his music down.

"Don't sound so suprised. I sell drugs man. I have to act natural a lot. Plus, he almost ran me off the road last month, I was pretty sure he'd try and pass me anyway." Eddie shrugs, keeps both hands on the wheel and one eye on the road behind them.

"Why'd he shoot you?" Eddie asks, glancing at Steve and then back to the road. He'd swear Steve was smiling.

"Why do you think?" He asks, sounds tired. Eddie rolls to a stop at a four way, looks over at Steve, down to the towel on his leg soaked with blood. He pulls away slow, they're so close to home now, no need to draw attention.

"He doesn't know it's me, I don't think. Just that he shot a wolf. He's been trying since he got here. Hunting us." Steve sighs, readjustes himself in his seat again.

Eddie swallows, hard, his heart pounding. His knuckles flashing white again as he squeezes the steering wheel. He turns into Forest Hills, his foot that's not on the peddle is shaking now, his knee jumping and jerking.

He pulls up to the trailer slowly, cuts the lights and the engine, and turns slowly in his seat to face Steve.

"You're a werewolf." He exhales into the space between them.

"I'm a werewolf." Steve nods, gives him a pained, toothy, smile. Eddie nods back, keeps nodding, he's lost in it again. The nodding.

Steve's hand patting his cheek snaps him out of it. He jerks again, not used to being touched there, or anywhere, really. He sees Steve pull his hand back, swears he sees hurt in his eyes.

"Sorry. I know it's a lot. But I need to get this bullet out of my leg like, yesterday." Steve sighs, covers the hurt look with another pained smile.

"Right. Yeah. Of course. Hang tight." He pats Steve's knee genlty, hops out of the van, and yells for Wayne.

~°~

They get Steve inside no questions asked. Wayne carries him to the bathroom and sets him on the edge of the tub. Eddie grabs a pair of boxers from his drawer and brings them to Steve.

"Figured you don't wanna be naked while you do that." He shrugs. Steve shrugs back.

"I've done worse things naked." He says, a little smile on his lips. Eddie goes warm all over and nods, bumps into the door frame as he back out of the small room.

He watches Wayne roll his eyes at him. He shakes his head too, crossing his arms over his chest. Eddie mouths 'shut up'at him and goes to kitchen. Wayne walks up beside him while he tries to get Steve's blood out from under his nails.

"Hey." Wayne sets his hand on Eddie's shoulder, he twitches.

"You did good kid. Bringin him here." Wayne's voice is calm. Always calm with Eddie.

He's never heard the man yell, except maybe at the raccoons that live to dig through their trash and toss it all over the yard. Eddie swears he'd heard Wayne call them varmints once. But other than that, he's soft spoken, so different from Eddie's father. Eddie's grateful. Everyday.

"Yeah. He was just out in the road. I almost hit him." Eddie's lip wobbles and Wayne pulls him to his chest, his hand rubbing up and down Eddie's back.

"But you didn't. You stopped. And you saved him, sounds like, so..." he pulls back, cradles Eddie's face.

"Seems to me that's all that matters." He lifts his eyebrows, giving Eddie that look. Eddie nods, a little frantic, licks his lips, looks in the direction of the bathroom.

"Yeah. That's what matters." He nods again, wipes his hands on his shirt. Opens his mouth to thank his uncle when Steve calls his name.

"Go on. Go see to your boy." Wayne tilts his head in Steve's direction.

"Oh my god. He's not my- he can hear you." Eddie hiss/whispers at Wayne. He pulls his lips into his mouth, shrugs, looking like he could not be less sorry. Eddie hisses at him as he walks away, glaring. Wayne laughs behind him and starts a pot of coffee.

"You called?" Eddie teases when he gets to the bathroom, leans agaisnt the doorframe.

"You came." Steve teases back, his eyes locked on Eddie. Eddie flushes again, from head to fucking foot. He clears his throat, rubs at the back of his neck.

"Did you need something?" Eddie asks, his eyes on the floor now. He swears he hears Steve chuckle, but can't risk looking up to find a smiling, teasing Steve, he wouldn't survive it right now.

"Yeah. Two things actually. And you're not gonna like the second one." Eddie's eyes snap to Steve's face, he looks apologetic.

"What is it?" Eddie asks, shoving his hands into her pockets nervously.

"Well the first thing, I need you to call Jim Hopper. Tell him what happened. And that I'm here. And I'm safe. I am safe with you, right Eddie?" Steve looks up at him with wide eyes. Eddie nods, licks his lips, tries to do better.

"Yeah. Course. That thing, earlier? When you touched me. And I flinched." He jerks his head back, motioning behind him, into the past hour.

"That wasn't because of you and your- it wasn't cuz of that. I'm not afraid of you. I'm just not used to people touching me." Eddie babbles, knows that's probably not what Steve meant, probably not why he was asking if he was safe.

But that hurt look kept bouncing around Eddie's head and he had to say it, to tell him it wasn't because of Steve, any part of him. And it pays off, his babbling, for once, because Steve smiles, and his cheeks tint pink, and Eddie could look at that all day.

"Thanks." Steve mumbles, Eddie nods.

"Call Hopper. Got it. And the second thing?" He rocks up onto the balls of his feet and then back down, Steve looks up at him and grimaces.

"I need you to help hold this while I dig the bullet out." Steve taps the little homemade tourniquet he and Wayne had put together, resting right above the bullet wound. Eddie swallows, his throat suddenly very dry.

"O-okay." He stammers.

"Do you want Wayne to do it?" Steve asks, eyeing Eddie like he thinks he's gonna pass out. Eddie shakes his head, once to answer the question, and then again to clear it.

"Lemme go have Wayne call Hopper. And I'll be back. Should I bring more towels?" He asks, hand firmly planted on the doorframe as he leans into the bathroom, his eyes on the bloody towel in the sink.

"Maybe one more. And two glasses of water." Steve says, nods when Eddie does.

"What's the water for?" He asks, brow furrowed.

"To drink. Thought maybe you could use a glass too. I can hear your throat clicking from here." Steve teases, smiling again when Eddie nods frantically and ducks out of the bathroom.

"You can probably hear my throat clicking from across town." He mutters to himself, grabbing two glasses out of the cabinet.

"Not quite that far. Maybe a few blocks, if I really focus." Steve calls from the bathroom.

"Jesus Christ." Eddie mutters, hears Steve laugh. He shakes his head, fills the glasses, gives Wayne his instructions for Hopper, shoves a towel under his arm, and waddles carefully back to the bathroom, hands full.

"There ya go." Eddie hands him a glass, tries not to stare at his throat when Steve chugs it, startles when Steve looks at him and chugs half his own glass.

"Where should I..." he trails off, looking around the bathroom.

"On your knees." Steve points to the space next to him, Eddie obeys immediately, his knees hitting the floor hard. His bites his lip, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, using all his willpower to not look at Steve right now, in this moment.

"That was-"

"Don't. Just- please don't. I'm mortified, can we just..." Eddie waves his hand towards Steve's wounded thigh.

"Mhm. We can." He says, and Eddie swears he sounds like he's trying not to laugh. Eddie rolls his eyes.

"Nothing wrong with obeying orders well." Steve says, his voice hushed as Eddie scoots closer. He freezes, his eyes finally looking up, Steve is staring at him. Eddie gulps, Steve's eyes drop to his throat and jump back up.

"Put your hands here." Steve guides him, shows him where to hold the tourniquet, how to pull but not too tight. His fingers move over the back of Eddie's hands, leaving the faintest tracks of blood on his skin as Steve whispers,

"Good boy." Against Eddie's ear.

"Jesus H Christ." Eddie shutters, his shoulders tensing.

"Sorry. Couldn't resist." And Steve fucking winks at him. Eddie rolls his eyes and huffs, Steve laughs, shakes his head, and then rolls his shoulders.

"You don't have to watch." Steve says, serious now. Eddie nods, but finds he can't look away.

Steve's hand rests on his thigh, as Eddie watches his nails grow dark, and long, and sharp. Thick claws now where his nails used to be. Eddie watches as Steve moves, presses his finger into the hole in his leg and digs. He shoves his thumb in along side it, blood blooms bewteen his fingers and Eddie tightens his hold.

The whimper Steve lets out is what draws Eddie's eyes away. Away from the claws and the blood. They land on Steve's face, his features pinched in pain. He grits his teeth and Eddie sees fangs, too sharp teeth filling Steve's mouth as he groans.

"Steve?" Eddie's voice is airy, his throat tight.

"I'm alright. Almost got it." Steve grunts through his teeth, his jaw clentched.

"Okay. Be careful." Eddie whispers. Steve snorts again, pulls his thumb and finger back out of the wound with a whine, something shiny held between them.

He sags, his body drooping with relief. He holds the bullet out, Eddie moves, slowly lets go of the tourniquet, and holds out his hand.

"Don't lose that." Steve cautions, pausing before he drops it into Eddie's palm. Eddie nods, drops it into the cup near his toothbrush and moves back to Steve's side.

"What now?" He asks, hands hovering, not sure where to land. Steve looks at him, hooks his fingers under the tourniquet and winks at Eddie again.

"Now. I heal." He slips the rags off his leg. Eddie watches as one small pulse of blood bubbles up out of the wound, and then he watches as the edges close, the skin knitting itself back together. Steve wipes a towel over his leg, clearing the blood, and the wound is gone.

"Holy shit." Eddie says, breathless. His eyes jump to Steve face and he smiles.

"You're amazing." He breathes, and then smiles wider when his cheeks tint pink again.

"Ya think so? Most people wouldn't agree." Steve says, but he's smiling too.

"Well most people are idiots. And objectively you're probably weird as shit. But I love weird shit." Eddie shrugs, rubs at his neck when Steve just stares at him, feels himself going red again and stands. Offers his hand to Steve, helps him to his feet. He stumbles forward, Eddie catches him with his hands on his waist, feels his cheeks go impossibly hotter.

"You're hearts always beating so fast. Is that cuz of me?" Steve whispers, his hand settling on Eddie's chest, right over his fluttering heart. Eddie swallows, manages a nod before his resolve leaves him and he steps away from Steve hastily.

"You can shower if you want. I'm gonna- I'll go find you some clean clothes." He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, bounces off the doorframe and bolts down the small hallway to his room.

He falls onto the edge of his bed, his legs wobbly, his chest aching, and his lungs somehow not pulling in enough air. He smiles when he hears the shower start, tries not to picture Steve in there showering. And shit, he forgot.

"The warm waters a little tricky. You gotta turn it all the way up and then lower it back down." He says, not too loud, wanting to know if Steve will hear him. He hears the tell squeak of the warm water handle and then Steve calls,

"Thanks!" Through the thin walls. Eddie bites his lip and falls back onto his bed, his head buzzing. He can't wait to tell Jeff. Oh, he sits up, thinking, he should ask about Chrissy. See if Jeff was right. All signs seem to be pointing that way.

He opens his mouth to ask when there's a knock at the door.An aggressive knock. More like someone pounding and trying to get in.

Eddie's up in a flash, but when he gets to the living room Wayne is near the door, his hand held out to Eddie, stopping him.

"It's not Hopper." Wayne mouths, and that's when Eddie sees the gun in his hand. Wayne's old shotgun. He'd only seen it once. When he turned 17, Wayne showed him where it was, and how to load and use it, in case of emergencies only.

Eddie's body tenses, his hands curled into fists at his sides. He can hear the shower running behind him. Hopes Steve is listening too.

"Open the door Munson! I know you've got him in there!" Hargove's taunting voice calls. A shiver runs down Eddie's spine, he shakes his head instinctively. He sees Wayne do the same. His uncle waves him down again, his palm held out towards Eddie, he lowers it slowly: stay calm. Eddie nods.

Wayne opens the door, keeps his shotgun hidden off to the side.

"Ain't nobody here but us. I think you should leave. We don't want any trouble." Wayne tells him calmly, his voice steady as he clicks the saftey off the gun in his hand. Eddie's breathing is shallow. He hears a snort from outside.

"Yeah right. You're Munson's. All you know is trouble. And you stepped in it big this time." Hargrove snarls.

"Now hand over that fuckin monster you got in there. And maybe I won't teach that little freak of yours a lesson for takin what's mine."

Eddie watches Wayne's knuckles go white where they're holding the door, watches the door shake as he grips it tight.

"Police are already on their way boy. You best be on yours before you get hurt." Wayne's voice is still calm. Too calm. Eddie's never heard him sound that way before. He can feel the anger just beneath the surface, his anger boils there too.

Wayne starts to say something else when Hargrove jumps forward, slams his body against the door, almost through it. Wayne stumbles backward, caught off guard just enough for Hargrove to get the drop on him. He grabs Wayne's arm, tugs him forward and headbutts him.

Eddie's stomach twists at the sound, as he watches Wayne fall to the floor. He knows he can't get to the gun. But Hargrove could. Doesn't seem to care about it though. His eyes land on Eddie, cold and empty, his jaw clenched. Eddie turns, makes for his bedroom. He feels Hargrove's hand slam down on his shoulder and screams.

"Steve help m-" Billy's knuckles slam into his cheek, he feels his lip split when his face hits the ground. Feels Hargrove move over him, and then away. His shadow there and then gone, quick as a flash. Eddie looks up, hears a low growl, and sees Hargrove against the wall, his feet almost a foot above the ground, Steve's clawed hand around his throat, holding him there.

His mouth is full of fangs again, his skin covered in fur now, not completely, just a thin layer, and his eyes seem to glow in the low light of the trailer. Eddie scrambles to his knees, hears another growl.

"Touch him again and I willl rip you apart." The words rumble deep in Steve's chest. Hargrove chokes and gags as Steve squeezes him tighter.

"Sounds like a great plan kid. But how bout you let me handle the rest huh?" A new voice. Eddie startles, tries too fast to turn and ends up on his back. Footsteps approach him and he's look up at Sheriff Hopper.

"You alright kid?" He asks, Eddie nods, his chest clenches.

"My uncle-"

"Already back on his feet kid. C'mon." Hopper extends his hand. Eddie takes it, lets the big man yank him to feet easily. Eddie suspects he may be a wolf himself. Or something else.

"Steve. Let him go." Hopper says, slow, like he's talking Steve down. He still has Hargrove against the wall, he's only wearing the boxers Eddie gave him. His skin is all skin again, but his claws are still out, his fangs pushing at his lips, his chest is heaving.

Eddie watches Hopper move toward him, Steve growls, low in his throat, Hargrove struggles as his fingers tighten, Hopper stops.

"Hey. Kid. I know. Alright. I get. He hurt your friend."

Another low growl, deeper, more feral, Steve's brow furrows.

"Oh. Shit. Okay." Hopper sighs, glances at Eddie.

"You're okay right?" He asks, leaning into Eddie's space a bit, Eddie thinks he sniffs him.

"Yeah. I'm okay. I'm good." Eddie nods, his eyes going back to Steve when Hopper's do.

"Your boys okay. Just a split lip. Nothin serious. He's okay." Hopper reassures, takes a few small steps forward. Steve twitches with each one. His grip on Hargrove's throat still tight.

"Steve I'm okay. You can let go now." Eddie tries. He watches the muscles in Steve's arm relax, but only a little. Eddie shakes his head, makes a decision. He steps forward, dodges Hopper when he reaches for him.

"Kid don't-"

"It's fine." Eddie dismisses. He walks up to Steve, gets close, Eddie moves his hand over his arm slowly, letting Steve feeling him.

"I'm right here. I'm okay." He soothes, fingers pressing into Steve's hot skin. But it works, his body relaxes, he loosens his hold on Hargrove, lets him slide down the wall til his feet touch the floor, but doesn't let go.

"Fuckin'... freak." Hargrove gasps, glaring at Eddie, eyes full of hate.

"Shut up." Eddie and Steve speak in unison, but Steve yanks him forward, then slams him back. His head hits the wall and Steve lets him go. He falls to floor, unconscious.

Steve turns to Eddie then, teeth too big for his mouth. His lips pushed out in a pout around his fangs, and he whines, his hand lifting to touch Eddie's lip, his claws receding back into his nails before his fingers touch Eddie.

He licks the blood from Eddie's lip off his fingers and then grabs for him, pulling him against his chest with a whine, clinging to him as he nuzzles into Eddie's neck. Eddie gulps, wraps his arms around Steve slowly, awkwardly, does his best to hold on. To soothe him.

Once Steve's calmed a bit he pulls back. Eddie looks down, Billy's body is gone. He turns to look behind him, Wayne and Hopper are sitting on the couch, watching some old movie. Eddie's brow furrows. How fucking long had Steve been holding onto him?

"Sorry. I didn't mean to, like, trap you." Steve clears his throat. Eddie turns back to him, he looks embarrassed. Eddie smiles, cups his cheek.

"It isn't a trap if it's somewhere I wanna be. Is it?" Steve looks uncertain for a moment, his eyes darting around Eddie's face, looking for something, Eddie's sure. He either finds, or doesn't, because he smiles so brightly it nearly blinds Eddie.

"Really?" He asks, his fingers twitching at his sides.

"Yeah. Kinda had a crush on you since like, fuckin forever. Seventh grade or something stupid." Eddie shrugs.

"Fifth grade." Wayne calls from the couch, Eddie rounds on him, he hadn't even looked away from the tv.

"Oh my god what does it matter! Bud out would you? I'm having a moment!" Eddie hisses, watches Wayne smile into his cup of coffee. He opens his mouth to snark some more but Steve's hand turning his face back to him stops him.

"Fifth grade?" Steve asks. Eddie rolls his eyes, sighs, nods.

"Yeah."

"Wha- Why?"

"You gave me a rock." Eddie huffs, bites into his lip.

"I gave you..." Steve gasps, his hands moving to Eddie's waist and tugging.

"I gave you a rock!" He says, excited. Eddie nods.

"I know. I was there." He rolls his eyes, teasing. Steve looks at him, for a long moment.

"Did you keep it?" He sounds so hopeful. Behind them, Wayne snorts and then clears his throat. Eddie groans, loud, and long. Wayne and Hopper both chuckle.

"Of course I kept it. I'm a big gay loser and a pretty boy gave me a rock. It's on my nightstand." Eddie admits, his shoulder sagging in defeat.

But then Steve is nuzzling against his cheek and he decides he doesn't care if he's a loser. That pretty boy was a werewolf, and apparently this werewolf thinks of Eddie as his. And he could definitely get used to that.

"You kept it." Steve hums, presses his nose into Eddie's throat and nearly fucking purrs with delight, his chest rumbling against Eddie's, making his heart flutter.

"Alright kid. We gotta get this sorted. Get that bullet. We'll get this delt with. And you can come back here and... well you can come back here. The rest is none of my business." Hopper declares, clapping his hands once, as he stands and moves to the door.

Steve pulls back, nods, and ducks back into the bathroom. Eddie brings him some clothes and then he's gone. Riding away in Hoppers cruiser, an unconscious Billy Hargrove in the backseat, bound and gagged, for good measure.

Wayne moves to stand beside him as he watches them drive away. His arm wraps around Eddie's shoulders and tugs him close.

"Rough day kid." Wayne says, giving him a squeeze.

"Yeah. Not all bad though." Eddie considers, drops his head on Wayne's shoulder.

"Definitely not. C'mon," Wayne gives his shoulder a pat.

"Let's get this house cleaned up before your boy gets back."

Eddie nods, follows him back inside, and starts cleaning. There's woodchips all over the hallway, Steve had shattered the door coming out to help Eddie and Wayne. Eddie suppresses a shiver at the thought.

But has trouble not thinking about the way Steve had been so mad because Billy had hurt him, hurt Eddie. Not his friend. He'd been mad about that word too. Not his friend. Just his.

Eddie swept the floor and tidied his room and let the feeling of being Steve's surround him. Let it fill his head and his chest. Let it lift him up off the floor, his body floating when he finally fell into bed to wait for Steve. His Steve.

~°~

Eddie wakes to gentle hands on his shoulder. He lets go of his pillow and rolls to find Steve, on his knees on the matress behind him. He scrambles to sitting, hands reaching for Steve, met with Steve's own out stretched hands.

"You came back." Eddie mumbles, still drowsy. Steve smiles, soft.

"Course I did. Nowhere else I'd rather be." He whispers, presses forward, his face so so close.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks, Eddie feels his breath rush over his skin.

"You want too?" Eddie asks, because his brain still hasn't quite caught up, isn't sure this isn't just a dream.

"Eddie." Steve says name the way no one ever has, all longing and need, curled at the edges from exasperation.

"Yeah Steve?" Eddie's trembling now, his hands shaking in his lap. Steve takes them in his, like he can read Eddie's mind.

"I've wanted to kiss you for awhile now. Even before I heard what you said at that party." Steve whispers the last bit, his mouth curving into a smirk, his eyes twinkling. Eddie's own eyes widen and then squeeze shut as he groans, takes his hands from Steve's and hides his face.

"You did hear me. I knew it oh my goooodddd." He rolls onto his back, rolling side to side on the bed, bumping Steve with his thighs everytime he rolls toward him. The laugh Eddie's dramtics pull out of Steve is beautiful, it makes Eddie feel like flying.

He drops his hands to his stomach and looks up at Steve. Steve looks right back, his eyes soft, his mouth curved just so in a small smile.

"I wanna kiss you so bad Steve." Eddie admits, his fingers drumming on his stomach. Steve's nose scrunches.

"Yeah? You sure?" Eddie tilts his head, trying to read the sudden change in Steve. His confidence seeming to fail him.

"Did you think I would genuinely say no to you?" Eddie asks, pushing himself up to sitting, so he can see Steve better. Steve picks at a loose thread on Eddie sheet, lifts one shoulder, drops it again.

"Who the fuck could say no to you?" Eddie wonders aloud, just a breathed out question.

"Not everyone can love a monster." The words fall past Steve's lips with sadness, his voice thick with it. Eddie's heart aches for him.

"Hey. You're not a monster." Eddie shakes his head, Steve levels him with such a bitchy look, it nearly takes Eddie's breath away. He snorts and holds up his hands in surrender.

"Okay. Okay tech-... technically you- you are a monster." Eddie rests his hands on Steve's knees.

"Like in the, literal, old movie wolfman monster, definition. Then yes. Sure. You're a monster." Eddie shrugs, shakes Steve's knees until he's wobbling back and forth with Eddie.

"But that doesn't mean you're a monster." Eddie shakes his head.

"And hey, even if you are. You've come to the right place. Eddie Munson, monster fucker extraordinaire!" He does a little jazz hands display before pointing at himself. He can see Steve fighting a smile.

"I mean not that I've... fucked a monster... before..." he trails off, eyes on the ceiling, thinking. He snaps his fingers, points at Steve.

"But I am willing! And hopefully," he wiggles his fingers in Steve's direction,

"Able." He smiles awkwardly, his eyes dropping to Steve's crotch and then back up, his cheeks flushing when Steve raises his eyebrows at him.

"Willing and able. That's me." Eddie points both his thumbs at himself, Steve's lip twitches. Eddie clasps his hands in front of him.

"Please say something so I can stop talking." Eddie begs through a helpless breathy laugh. Steve drags his teeth over his lower lip and shakes his head slowly, moves closer, presses into Eddie's space.

"No... you're not gonna say anything? Or no... umm... wh- what did I say after that?" Eddie stammers as Steve keeps moving, one hand on Eddie's chest, pressing him back into the matress, the other ending up near Eddie's head, supporting Steve as he hovers over Eddie.

"I like when you talk." Steve says, tossing his leg over Eddie, sitting on his thighs. Eddie nods, feeling a little frantic.

"Oh well thats good. Cuz I'm notorious for not knowing when to shut the fuck up. Now being one of those times I fear. Pretty sure. My mouth literally will not stop moving." The nervous laugh that comes out of him just makes Steve smile more, but it's different, sharp at the edges. Eddie realizes what the look is and gulps, Steve leans over him, chest to chest now, nose to nose. He looks hungry.

"I'm almost certain I can find something that will shut you up." Steve fucking purrs, his finger dragging down over Eddie's lips, his hand moving to cup Eddie's cheek. Eddie's eyes flick down between them and then back up.

"I mean we gotta try right? There's gotta be somethin- mmphf! Mmmm." Steve kisses him, presses his lips to Eddie's like he's trying to swallow his words. Eddie hums into it, hands moving to Steve's neck, his shoulders, his back. His hands move everywhere, feather light touches, not sure where to land. Steve pulls back, rests his forehead against Eddie's.

"I really like you." He sighs, his eyes squeezed tight, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath he takes. Eddie watches him, eyes closed, trying to stay calm.

"I really like you too. That's why I kept the rock. And the bird you drew me in seventh grade." Steve's eyes open, he looks down at Eddie, brow furrowing.

"And the poem you wrote freshman year, about wanting to be a wolf." Eddie leans up, presses his lips to Steve's forhead.

"Kinda cheated on that one didn't ya?" Eddie whispers, wraps his arms around Steve as he settles in his lap. Steve gasps when Eddie kisses down his neck.

"I kept the sweatshirt you gave me at the football game too.Sophomore year. It's tucked away in my closet." He kisses back up, eyes closing on a hum as Steve pushes his hands up under Eddie's shirt, needing to touch him.

"I used to take it out and just hold it. And smell it. But it stopped smelling like you. Years ago." Eddie breathes against his lips, Steve whimpers into his mouth.

"I like you so much." Eddie whispers, pressing a kiss to Steve's lips.

"You being a werewolf isn't gonna change that." He kisses Steve's cheeks, his left one twice, once for each freckle.

"If anything, it will make my feelings, monumentally stronger. Like it'll be disconcerting. It's gonna make people uncomfortable." He kisses Steve's eyelids as he laughs, squirms in Steve's arms when his hands work their way into the back of his pajama pants.

"I'm gonna be obsessed with you." Eddie whispers, kissing down Steve's nose and across his lips again. Steve whines again, chases his lips, Eddie puts two fingers across them, to shush him, groans when Steve pulls them into his mouth and sucks, his cheeks hollowing as he blinks at Eddie, eyes hooded and needy.

"Jesus okay. There's is- there is a 'but' coming." Eddie gasps, Steve smirks around his fingers but lets them go.

"What's the but?" Steve asks, pouting as he moves his hands up Eddie’s back again. Eddie snorts and kisses his cheek again.

"I just-" he stops, takes a deep breath. His stomach twisting. He feels Steve's hand on his chest and opens his eyes, Steve tilts his head like a puppy.

"Your hearts beating fast again." He says, quiet, like he's talking to himself.

"I'm nervous." Eddie says, straight to the point. Steve tilts his head the other way.

"Nervous to be with me?" Steve's thumb soothes over Eddie's chest, through his shirt.

"Nervous cuz- I've never done this." Eddie bites his lip.

"I kinda figured you were a virgin ya know." Steve shrugs, noses at Eddie's neck. Eddie puts his hands on Steve's chest and pushes him back genlty.

"Umm... excuse me?" Eddie scoffs, a smile tugging at his lips.

"What? Virgins smell different." Steve says, like it's a normal thing to say.

"Ew. What? Why?" Eddie asks, his fingers tangling in Steve shirt as he laughs, his arms winding around him and pulling him closer.

"Dunno. Never asked. It's just true. You smell so good anyway but that part," Steve shivers, looks down at him.

"It's just sweet. You smell sweet." Steve smiles down at him, kisses his cheek, runs his fingers over the spot after.

"Okay well, that's all... a lot of information. But what I meeeeant," Eddie drawls, poking Steve in the chest.

"Is that I've never been in a relationship before. Like, not a real one. Not like this. And I'm just scared I guess. Cuz you're like, a fucking dream." Eddie sighs, Steve smiles.

"And I have a very long history of categorically fucking up everything good that happens to me. And I don't wanna do that here. With you. I want-" Eddie frowns, Steve moves, pulls them to the bed and rolls them, so they're facing each other.

"What do you want?" Steve asks, his fingers moving over Eddie's forhead, soothing the frown and then moving into his hair.

"I want you. I want to keep you." Eddie worries at his lip, Steve moves his thumb over it, drags it from between Eddie's teeth and soothes over the hurt.

"I wanna keep you too. We don't have to do anything right now. I just needed to be with you. After today." Steve says, shrugs his shoulder and curls closer.

"We can just- do this? Just be together?" Eddie asks, hesitant, his eyes falling closed as Steve hums,

"Mhm. We can just hold each other." Steve moves his fingers deeper into Eddie's hair, pulls him to his chest. Eddie clings to him, arms wrapped tight, hears that fucking rumble in Steve's chest again.

"Are you actually purring or does it just sound like it?" Eddie mumbles sleepily into Steve's chest. He feels him laugh, feels him pull Eddie impossibly closer.

"Hopper refuses to call it that. But I like it. I've only done it once before today though." Steve sighs, Eddie perks up, rests his chin on his arms and looks at Steve.

"When was the other time?" Eddie asks, eyes blinking slowly. Steve reaches up, tucks Eddie's hair behind his ear.

"With my friend Robin. You know her. From band." Eddie nods. Steve nods back.

"Yeah well. I came out to her last year and she was so excited, and happy, and accepting. She made me a cake. I mean it was terrible. But she made it just for me." Steve laughs, Eddie smiles down at him, waiting for more.

"And after, she told me she was proud of me. And that she loved me. And that's when it happened. I think it happens when you find your people. Like, my wolf just knows, when it's right." Steve's eyes won't stay on him, and he looks nervous again.

"She's like your platonic soulmate huh?" Eddie asks, pushing his finger around Steve's chest, drawing little nothings here and there. But he feels the tension leave Steve, feels him relax underneath him.

"Yeah. She is." He nods, eyes locked on Eddie now, his are shining with tears. Eddie nods, scoots a little closer, further up Steve's chest.

"I have one too. Jeff. He's in Hellfire with me. We're like two trippy peas in a far out pod." Steve scrunches his nose, lifts his head and kisses Eddie, sweet and soft.

"Thanks for understanding." Steve breathes.

"Sure. Give me enough time and I can understand anything. That ones easy though. I'm glad you have someone like that too." Eddie drops back down onto Steve's chest, gets comfy.

An hour later Steve manhandles him onto his side and presses up against his back, arms wrapped around Eddie like vines, keeping him close. Eddie shivers at being tossed around, even more at being held like he's something precious. He feels Steve smirk into his neck, feels that rumble again.

He smiles into Steve's arm, presses his lips to his skin and lets himself fall asleep, feeling loved, and wanted, and like he belongs to someone.

~°~

Eddie finds out later that Jeff was right. Chrissy absolutely is a vampire. And a good friend of Steve's. Eddie, Steve, and Robin may or may not parent trap them into several ridiculous situations before Chrissy finally tells them her and Jeff have been dating for almost three weeks now.

Eddie swears he knew. Steve can hear him lying. But let's him have it anyway. Robin refuses to let it go and constantly claims that the first time she meddled was three weeks ago which means she got them together which means she wins the bet.

Eddie remains unaware that there was even an actual bet going on. He just thought they were trying to make their friends happy. Steve can hear him telling the truth, and loves him for it.

Steve holds Eddie close almost every night, so so glad he heard Eddie talking at that party. And so so glad he'd told Robin, two weeks before that party, that he was gonna ask Eddie out. That he wanted to keep him forever.

She'd made fun of him of course. Eddie Munson? Really? But Steve had pressed on. Something about that sweet smell drawing him in.

And even after Steve claims him. Even after Eddie is his and no one elses. To Steve, he still smells so sweet, like the first rain of spring. Likes Steve's favorite fruit. Like Steve's. Like home.

#my writing #mine #steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #this got so fucking long oh myyyyy goooodddd #I hope you like it friend!!!#im gonna take a nap now! be back in several hours!!!!#werewolf steve harrington #also a side of #jeff x chrissy #my fic

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thehighladywrites · 20 days

Text

— “He clearly doesn’t want you!”

☀︎ — pairing: nerd/tutor azriel x bimbo/ditzy/popular reader

☀︎ — summary: after yoga class you and your friends run into a sweaty, hot, big armed Azriel.

☀︎ — warnings: fluff, azriel get’s hit on by creepy friend, reader punches someone, possessiveness, protective reader, secret relationships come to light, kisses and hugs

☀︎ — amara’s note: thank u guys for the patience, the next one will be smutty👀👀💗

series masterlist

“Oh my god, who is that?” Letty, your sorta friend, exclaims, eyeing the figure behind you from head to toe.

You blink, tilting your head and squinting as if trying to figure out a puzzle. "Who?"

As heads turn to see, anticipation fills the air. The man stands with his back to you, but there's something unmistakable about his shoulders, the way he carries himself. It's Azriel, unmistakably, his muscular frame reminding you of the intimate moments you've shared.

It was yoga day, so you headed to your weekly session at the gym. Never did you imagine you’d see Azriel using some fancy machine. You didn’t even know your boyfriend worked out here; sure, you knew he did, but not here. He looked incredibly good, although you were aware that your so-called friends only looked at his body. If they knew who said body belonged to, they would totally roll their eyes.

It seriously irked you because they never even glanced at campus, but now they were drooling over him. Like, hello? He's totally yours, and it's so annoying to see them fawning over him. Ugh, seriously, can they not see he's off-limits?

"Okay, let’s—let’s just go, I wanna get some food. I'm sooo hungry," you say with a dramatic flair, clutching your stomach and fluttering your eyelashes.

Letty shakes her head, still gazing at your boyfriend. "Hmm, no, I think I’ll go say hi," she says determined, twirling a strand of her hair.

She walks over, putting a hand on his back, making him jump. The move makes you feel murderous as you observe how Azriel is so very obviously uncomfortable. How dare she?

"Hi, I haven’t seen you around. Are you new?" she asks, her hand still lingering on his back.

"Get your hand off of me, you are making me quite uncomfortable," Azriel responds firmly.

"Yeah? We could,like, leave and get comfortable in other ways," she suggests with a suggestive smile.

"Um, I’m good. I really don’t want to leave with you. I’m not available." Azriel replies, his discomfort palpable.

"Oh, come on—"

"Um, hello??? What part of 'no' are you not getting? He clearly doesn't want you," you say with a cute furrow between your perfectly shaped brows, your glossy lips pursing as you cross your arms over your chest, stepping closer to Azriel.

Letty and the rest of your soon-to-be ex-friends look between the three of you with comically large brows.

“Azriel is my boyfriend, and he loves me a lot, and I love him even more, there’s no way he’s going with you. He's mine and mine only, so if any of that clicked for you, i’m going to need you to get your Dollar Tree nails off of him, like right now.” you declare, narrowing your eyes at them, your possessive tone leaving no room for doubt about your feelings for him.

They had never seen you like this before. Usually, you were bubbly, ditzy, a little stupid, but never possessive, cold, and jealous.

Letty lets out a demeaning laugh, looking back at the group who soon start to laugh at demand like dogs.

“Did you say Azriel? That teachers pet guy in your math class? Y/n, do you think I’m stupid? This man is hot, that disgusting loser from your math class is a social reject who’s probably a closeted perv—“

Her words grate on your nerves, and you're fed up with her bitchy attitude. Without another thought, you ball up your fist and punch her straight in the face, of course, very careful of your nails.

Azriel startles a little, pulling you in by the waist before Letty tries something.

“You bitch, you broke my nose!” she yells, clutching her bleeding nose.

You shrug, attempting to wriggle out of Azriel's iron grip to no avail. “You should be thanking me, I mean, your botched nose job needed an upgrade anyway. I’d suggest Dr. Heartman for the fix-up!” you yell the last bit as Azriel drags you away to a secluded corner.

Azriel doesn’t let you go until your erratic breathing has calmed down, and you look up at him with those familiar loved out eyes he loves.

“You okay?” he asks carefully, his brow furrowing with worry.

“Yeah, I’m good. M’sorry you had to see me like that,” you say with a pouty expression, your voice a bit airy. You flash him those adorable doe eyes, your shoulders sagging as you twist your lips.

He nods, still looking concerned. “It’s all good, sweetheart. But are you sure? You didn’t have to do that for me,” he says, his worry evident in his endearing, caring demeanor.

You melted. Even though he was getting uncomfortable and hit on, he was still checking on you. As sweet as it was, you wanted to be the one caring for him in this moment.

“Oh, babe, I would like totally do anything for you! I am so freaking in love with you, I’d totally give up my entire closet for you. And trust me, that’s like, a big deal,” you say with a girly giggle, knowing just how much your clothes meant to you.

But your love for clothes would never ever come close to the love you felt for Azriel.

“But what now? Your friends know about me.”

You tilted your head in confusion. “So? You're not some dirty secret. I want people to know about you.”

“Yeah?”

You got closer, dropped your water bottle and bag before standing on your tippy toes, pressing a sweet, tender kiss on his lips, your heart fluttering with affection.

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you as he returned the kiss. “Thank you, sweet girl.”

“Mhm, never worry about her again, Azzie. I will so punch her if she even dares to look at you,” you declared with fierce determination.

Azriel looked down at you, a tender smile gracing his lips as he kissed the tip of your nose. “I feel safer already. How about we go get some ice cream? Maybe make out in the car?”

Your eyes lit up with excitement, and a wide grin spread across your face. He had really gotten more comfortable with expressing his wants and it made you so proud and happy

“I’m so in!”

He changed quickly, holding your hand as you walked out of the gym. As you strolled down the street, he finally voiced the question that had been on his mind.

“So, uh, Dr. Heartman any good?”

You couldn't help but smirk mischievously, lifting your chin. “The absolute worst.”

🏷️: @ithan-holstroms-girl l @whatdoyxumean @honeybeeboobaa @to-be-written @sidthedollface2 @stasiereads @andrewgarfield2022 @amara-moonlight @thescooby-gang @linoisqt @mischiefmanagers @tortured-artists @dwyniii @scoobies @harryshoobies69 @caroline-books @kalulakunundrum @meshelleexplosionmurder @danikamariewrites @clairebear08 @redbleedingrose @jeannineee @rowaelinsdaughter @nocasdatsgay @v3lv3tf0x @liati2000 @teenageeggscissorslawyer @impossibelle @stonerpersona @dreamlandreader @djaaaa @callmeblaire @thelov3lybookworm @polli05927 @ahitsalyssa @evergreenlark @thegirlintheshadows101 @saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofladydeath @acourtofwhatthefuck @readychilledwine @daycourtofficial @azriels-shadowsinger @sapphicmsmarvel @hungryforbatboys @justasillylittlegoofyguy @luvmoo @emryb @meritxellao @mochibabycakes @artists-ally @azzieslittlebunny @viatorem-maris @berryzxx @riddlesb1tch @sweetshifter @lilah-asteria @hannzoaks

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venusacrossthestars · 14 days

Text

putt-putt

pairing- Lando Norris x fem!reader

wc- 1.3k

summary- You and Lando are too competitive for you own good, so what is a better date idea than a round of putt-putt

a/n: this is a little b-day gift for my bestest friend @arieslost I LOVE YOU BESTIE.

f1 masterlist

“Babe, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

If someone walked in and saw the look on Lando’s face they would assume that you just kicked the poor man’s dog. But the truth to Lando’s sad expression- your insistence that a mini-golf date was not at all a great idea that Lando chalked it up to be.

Lando stares up at you from where his head rest on your lap, his lips pouted out, “Why not?”

“Are you seriously asking me that? Do you remember the last time we went? Or the time we played Mario Kart, Uno, Monopoly. Do you remember anytime we played something that had us competing against each other.” Lando continues to stare at you, as if he has no idea what you are talking about.

“Lando! Seriously?! We each get pissy at each other. We are both too competitive for our own good.”

Lando shoots up from were he was laying, startling you. He reaches across you to where his phone lays on the side table, “But babe, you haven’t even seen how cool this place is!” He shoves his now unlocked phone in your face, “See!”

You move back and take Lando’s phone from his hand. You see that he already has their Instagram paged pulled up. You scroll through a couple of their post. 18 holes, Atlantis themed, has an aquarium, good photo opportunities.

“It is nice,” you agree.

“Babe. Please.”

Your resolve crumbles in a matter of seconds, “Fine, but I have 2 conditions,” you watch Lando’s face fall, “1- You will not, and I mean, NOT, do that spiderman-whatever-it-is pose on the course and 2- If an argument or anythings breaks out and we get pissy at each other I get to say I told you so.”

“Deal!”

The first ‘disagreement’ of the day occurred not even 2 holes into the course. Lando claimed that you had purposely aimed for his ugly neon green ball.

“You did that on purpose!”

You stand there with a bewildered look on your face, “Are you kidding me? Your ball is right in the middle of the damn way. Of course I’m going to hit it!”

This is exactly why you couldn’t stand playing against Lando. When the two of you played together against other people, you guys were a powerhouse, unstoppable. Putting the two of you against one another, well the results were what you were dealing with now.

“Lando I swear to God I will leave you here and you can walk home. Remember our ‘deal’? Because I do.” You wave your golf club at him in a warning manner.

“You’re right. I’m sorry baby.”

You sigh out, you could never stay made at Lando when he gave you that puppy dog eyes look, “It’s fine, let’s just try and have a good time.”

The two of you move through the course, you’re keeping score with a baby pencil on the little piece of paper one of the workers gave you when you picked out your balls, not trusting Lando to put down the correct score.

“Awww. Babe, look your favorite food,” You point to the fish in aquarium that lines the next hole.

You hear Lando make a noise and a pinch in your side. “That one looks like you,” Lando tells you as he points to the ugliest fish in the tank.

You ram you elbow back, hitting him right in the stomach, “You ass. Keep it up and you’ll be sleeping with them.”

“Come on, we got like, 7 holes left.” Lando grabs you hand and drags you away to the next hole.

Lando drops his ball on the green, lines up his shot and swings. You watch as the ball bounces off the barrier and rolls right into the hole. “Hole in one babyyyyyy!” He exclaims, club raised over his head. “I’d like to see you do that.”

��Bet.” Is all you say as Lando walks over to hole to retrieve his ball. He moves off to the side and watches as you line up your shot, a smirk resting on his face.

You swing, and your ball does the same thing that Lando’s did, resulting in you own hole in one.

“Hole in one babyyyyyy!” You mimic his early reaction. You do his same winning motion and you watch his smirk fall with a smirk of your own.

The two of you aren’t the only people in here, there is a family a four ahead of you and another couple behind you. As Lando and you are walking to the next hole you can’t help but glance back at the couple, who, unlike you and Lando, are being all lovey dovey. The boyfriend is helping the girl with her swing, standing behind her, holding her hands as they swing the club together.

You nudge Lando, “See we could be like them,” you point to the couple, “instead we’re two competitive a-holes.”

Lando shrugs. “I like your competitiveness, gives me my money worth.”

“Well be sure to keep that mentality after I beat your ass.”

“We still have 3 more holes,” Lando points out.

“Yeah, but with how bad you’re doing, I think I got this in the bag.”

“Don’t count all your eggs before they hatch.”

“Chickens, babe. Chickens. It’s- don’t count all your chickens before they hatch.”

“Wait, then what’s the egg one?”

“Don’t put all your eggs in one basket?” You say unclear to which one he is referring to.

“That’s it!”

You roll your eyes, “You’re lucky your handsome.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you pat him on the shoulder and start walking to the next hole.

“No, what did you mean by that?” Lando calls out from behind you and all you can do is giggle.

It’s the last hole and maybe Lando was right, you shouldn’t have counted all your chickens before they hatched. Because the past two holes Lando has managed to get two holes in one, you on the other hand were plundering.

“So, we’re tied right now. This is the last hole, therefore, the tie-breaker.”

“Do you want to go first?”

“I guess.” Honestly no, you didn’t want to go first. You rather watch how Lando does first, then try to replicate whatever he did, your strategy you’ve been using the entire game.

You line up your shot and swing. A very underwhelming delivery on your end. Lando goes and has the same result. Second swing same thing, ultimately closer to the hole before. Lando swings and his ball is just a little behind yours. Third swing, and PLUNK, right into the hole. You hold in your celebration, Lando could still tie. Lando goes for his turn, and he puts to much force in his swing, his ball goes in and right back out of the hole. It’s on his fourth try that his ball makes it in.

“YES! I WON!” Your shout draws the attention of the couple behind you, you give them an apologetic look. You turn your attention to Lando, who is looking at you with nothing but adoration.

“Well done,” Lando gives you a little golf clap and you take a bow.

“I guess I don’t get to tell you I told you so.” You say as the two of you walk in the parking lot hand-in-hand.

“Wow, we actually had a nice outing and that’s all you can say,”

You stop and jerk Lando’s hand towards you, “I had a fun time, even if we did get a little competitive.”

Lando’s hands move to you waist and pull you into a hug, “I had a fun time too, even though I lost.”

“Don’t be a sore loser.”

He wouldn’t say anything today, but maybe sometime in the future he would tell you that he purposely swung a little too hard on his third turn so that his ball would bounce out of the hole. But for now he could live with the little white lie, as long as it made you happy.

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tenelkadjowrites · 8 months

Text

Declaration - Hongjoong x Reader (NSFW)

🍒 Summary: On the brink of moving out of the apartment you share with your bad boy roommate, Hongjoong, you’re shocked to learn that he’s a virgin - and wants his first time to be with you.

🍒 Word count: 9k

🍒 Genre & warnings: one shot smut. roommates to lovers. mentions of smoking, drinking, physical violence. loss of virginity. dirty talk. unprotected sex. creampie. oral sex.

this fic is not meant to represent hongjoong in any way, shape or form.

“You’re lucky we didn’t get tossed out of here.”

“Please, the bartender loves us.”

“Does he?”

“Well, he loves our money.”

The heavy sigh you emit does not go unnoticed. Hongjoong glances up from his spot in front of the sink, casting a look in your direction. In the dimly lit, run down bathroom of the shitty bar you’ve been in for the past few hours, he appears to be in his element.

That isn’t surprising, seeing as Hongjoong and his merry band of delinquents loved to frequent spots like this, stirring up trouble and relishing it. You just wish it hadn’t been tonight, of all nights.

“Stop moving,” Seonghwa grumbles as he wraps the bandage around Hongjoong’s knuckles.

It is a familiar sight: the dirty bathroom, the muffled rock music, Hongjoong being patched up by Seonghwa, their heads bowed together as they examine the injury. Hongjoong’s hair is electric blue (“Gatorade hair” you like to call it to annoy him sometimes) compared to Seonghwa’s black and occasionally they are so close together their hair mingles a little like swirling paint.

“We can’t be in here forever. Eventually, someone is gonna need the bathroom,” You point out.

But Hongjoong doesn’t seem concerned. “Woo will take care of it.”

You don’t doubt that, seeing as Wooyoung is standing guard just outside the door. Seonghwa releases his hold on Hongjoong’s hand, briefly admiring the patch job he did to stop the bleeding from where Hongjoong had thrown a punch, missed, and struck the wall so hard some plaster fell off. Not that it stopped him from swinging again, this time finally connecting with the jaw of the man who ran his mouth a little too much for Hongjoong’s liking.

You cross your arms, tentatively leaning against the wall next to the door. The various flyers for bands crinkle underneath your jacket; some of them are so old that they seem to be permanent fixtures to the paint.

“Thanks, Hwa,” He says and then jerks his head in the direction of the door, “A moment alone though, please.”

Seonghwa shoots you a glowering look, knowing that the part of the night where you lecture Hongjoong is about to begin. As he walks past you, dressed entirely in black, his lips smacking from his chewing gum, he doesn’t break eye contact with you. This no longer phases you, entirely used to Seonghwa and his guard dog act. Making sure to roll your eyes as he pushes the door open, almost colliding with Wooyoung, you then turn your attention to Hongjoong.

“Does he always need to be like that?”

“You know, a lot of women love Seonghwa,” Hongjoong replies, flexing his fingers to make sure the bandage remains in place, “Are quite dedicated to him, in fact. They write page after page describing him.”

“Couldn’t be me,” You retort and leave your spot by the wall, going towards Hongjoong and motioning to see his hand which he extends, “I really didn’t want the night to play out this way, you know.”

Hongjoong has enough sense to look slightly abashed while still protesting at the same time. “You heard what that guy was saying about you.”

“Who cares? You always take me to some shithole like this and then are blown away when some asshole runs his mouth. You’ve never decked them before.”

“Tonight is different. We’re celebrating,” He puts emphasis on the word as if it clears everything up, “You got an amazing job and the party shouldn’t be ruined by some asshole.”

And you’re moving out, is the unsaid sentence because for all your differences with Hongjoong, he’s been your roommate for the last four years. But your new job is on the outskirts of the city and the commute just didn’t make sense, leading you to make the choice to move closer.

Hongjoong, with his slight frame, short height and diminutive appearance, would normally not fit the picture of what a hard ass would look like. But in the four years of knowing him, including moments like having to pay bail a couple of times to make sure he wasn’t sitting in a cell, you know better. Hongjoong has a ferocity to him unmatched by anyone else in his group of equally feral friends. He isn’t afraid of anyone, doesn’t think repercussions through, acts on instinct instead of logic, and tears through people and things for the fun of it.

But he never misses rent, keeps things exceptionally tidy and isn’t home very often. In all, a dream roommate which meant overlooking the chaotic way his life was lived outside the apartment.

You hadn’t made it a habit to hang out with Hongjoong regularly, seeing as it always resulted with Seonghwa patching him up in a grimy bathroom. But after asking you to come out for one last hurrah before the move, you agreed – and now stood in the aforementioned grimy bathroom.

You make sure that Seonghwa did a good job with the bandage, taking note of the blood seeping through a little at Hongjoong’s knuckles. At some point during the fight, Hongjoong’s hat went flying although you are sure someone has retrieved it. He has a baggy black t-shirt on, oversized for his thin frame, with the logo of some underground rock group you’ve never heard of. His jeans are covered in rips and tears and his combat boots are well worn with paint splattered all over them. His nails are painted black although at this point they are more chipped than not. His facial features are at odds with his clothing; he looks as delicate as a small bird which is probably why he has two eyebrow piercings above one eye and a lip ring to try to counteract that very comparison.

“I think the celebration would go smoother without some jerk threatening to sue you.”

Hongjoong gives a small shrug. “He won’t do anything. And we didn’t even get kicked out.”

“A successful night for sure,” You reply dryly, finishing up studying his hand – as usual Seonghwa had done a good job.

Hongjoong grins wickedly, “They usually are. Come on,” He nudges you with his shoulder while walking towards the door, “It’s only a little past midnight.”

You sigh, following your roommate out into the night of whatever little bit of chaos remained.

The ‘little bit of chaos’ ended up resulting in a hangover and sleeping past noon. By the time you’re up, showered, managed to eat something and are focusing on packing up the rest of your things, it is past six pm. You only have a week until it is time to move and your room is filled with boxes and a random assortment of items tossed all over the place. Stretched out on your bed, you are staring at a pile of clothes, torn between donating them or keeping them just in case.

Overthinking the clothing situation is only making your hangover headache worse. The apartment is quiet because Hongjoong, after making sure you got back home safely at two in the morning, had went back out. This is normal for him so you don’t think much of it. Seonghwa is moving in after you go and will continue his guard dog act so Hongjoong will always have someone watching over him.

As if conjuring your roommate up, you hear the front door open and the sound of Hongjoong’s boots against the floor before he removes them.

“Are you here?” He barks out into the silence and when you call back an affirmative answer, he appears a few seconds later at the entrance to your room.

His hair is disheveled, small dark circles under his eyes that means he is running on basically no sleep while in the same clothes as yesterday.

“How’s your hand?” You ask, motioning him to come inside – all these years living together and Hongjoong never entered your room without permission.

He blinks in surprise, as if having forgotten about the injury entirely, glancing down at it. “Oh? Fine, I guess.”

When he gets a step closer, you scrunch up your nose. “Joong, you stink, no offense. You smell like fifty bars threw up on you.”

Hongjoong immediately looks affronted, grabbing the front of his shirt and sniffing it. He smells of booze, cigarette smoke and the city in general. “I don’t smell anything.”

“Of course you don’t, you’re just soaking in it.”

“Well,” He sways a little on his feet, “I’ll shower.”

You narrow your eyes at your roommate, sliding off the bed and braving the smell to look closer at his face. “Are you drunk?”

“Still drunk, actually, because I was drunk last night, remember.”

“Fucking hell, what have you been doing since I got back here?”

“Uh….drinking.”

“Okayyy,” You drag the word out, gingerly placing your hands on his shoulders and turning him to face the door, “Why don’t we get you in bed to sleep this off and then you can shower? Last thing I want to deal with before I move is you falling in the shower and hurting yourself.”

“This jerk challenged Mingi and I to a drinking contest,” Hongjoong explains sourly, “I lost.”

“Clearly. How did Mingi fare?”

“He won,” He replies brightly, his words slurring at the edge, “We spent the winnings on more booze.”

“Wonderful, truly. Let’s move it along, please.”

“Wait, wait,” His hand reaches out for the doorframe, the nail polish completely chipped off the thumb, “Wait.” His slender fingers grip the wood, knuckles turning white for a second.

You release your hold on his shoulders as Hongjoong turns around to face you. In the evening sun coming through the window, it is clearer now that he is intoxicated. This isn’t new behavior for him. In the four years of being his roommate, you’ve made a point in not asking the following: what he does when he’s out with his friends when you’re not around and how he makes his money to pay rent. Some knowledge is better off not knowing.

“You’re moving soon so it doesn’t matter,” He declares – to you? to himself? You’re not sure.

“What doesn’t matter?”

“All of it.”

“Can you be a little more specific?” You are trying to keep impatience from creeping into your tone, casting a glance at the collection of clothes you need to get back to overthinking about.

“There’s something I need to talk to you about. Ask you about? Uhm,” His brow furrows in drunken confusion for a second before he continues, “It’s about me.”

“Should we discuss this now?” You say with a small sigh.

“You’re moving so I wanted to ask if you could do me a favour.”

“I’m not helping you hide a body.”

“N-no, what? No, not that. Besides, I’d ask Hwa for help with something like that. He’s very meticulous.”

“Can you please get to the point?”

Hongjoong suddenly looks a bit unsure of himself which is strange to see. You can’t actually recall ever seeing the expression on his face before and it ushers you into silence, wondering with a quickening heart what in the world he is going to tell you.

His words are still slurred so you lean a little closer to him (much to your chagrin, given the smell) to try to understand what he is saying.

“Since you’re moving, I wanted to ask if you would – well, the thing is. You know, I’ve fooled around a lot. But never…you know. So I was wondering if you would. With me.”

You blink at him, unable to comprehend what Hongjoong is trying to say. If it had been anyone else talking, you would have assumed they were trying to tell you they were a virgin. But that would be ridiculous given the fact this is Hongjoong, who seemed to naturally have people drawn to him. You also definitely saw him making out with people in bars before too…

As the silence drags on, Hongjoong shifts uncomfortably. That same fragile expression is on his face, a far cry from the usual cocky grin he carried.

“I’m sorry, are you telling me that you’re a…virgin?” You finally ask point blank when it became clear that your roommate is not going to speak more.

Hongjoong blinks and to your surprise, there is a touch of colour across his cheeks as he replies stiffly, “Yes.”

“And you’re asking me to…sleep with you?”

He clears his throat a little. “Yes.”

You don’t know what to say and can’t really wrap your head around what he is telling you. What you do know is Hongjoong is drunk and this is not a conversation to be had at this moment. He might not even remember it come tomorrow nor the request he has made.

Carefully, you reply, “Hongjoong, I think you should get some sleep. We can talk about this tomorrow, alright? But you’re intoxicated and this is more of a…. sober conversation.”

He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and mumbles that he understands. Turning around, he shuffles out of your room and down the hall to his own space, closing the door firmly behind him. You hover in the doorway, waiting for…well, you aren’t sure. Was he upset that you pushed the conversation off? Even if he is, you know you did the right thing.

When it is clear Hongjoong isn’t going to reappear, you quietly shut the door and stare at your bed.

How is it possible that your roommate is a virgin? He is exceptionally good with people, charming even - when he wanted to be. Sure, he might throw a punch here or there or…often but you also witnessed him flirting constantly with people.

On the other hand, now that you’re thinking about it, you cannot recall Hongjoong ever bringing someone back to the apartment to spend the night. But you just assumed that he was sleeping with people elsewhere.

Apparently, he wasn’t.

So I was wondering if you would. With me.

For all Hongjoong’s tendencies to get in trouble, you always considered him a friend. But the thoughts never crossed into anything else. You never pictured yourself taking things further with him. He had been your roommate for years, why mess that up with sex?

Since you’re moving…obviously Hongjoong gave this some thought before drunkenly suggesting you take his virginity. There isn’t anything to ruin when you’re moving out. If the sex was terrible or awkward, Hongjoong knew you’d be on the other side of the city. Through that lens, it made sense why he asked you.

Tomorrow, you think, I’ll talk to him about it tomorrow when he’s sober.

Late afternoon the next day, you stand outside Hongjoong’s door. He slept almost the entire day, waking up only two hours ago and taking an incredibly long shower. The kitchen smells of coffee and half the pot is already gone. His room is mostly quiet although the low hum of a TV show lets you know he is up.

You aren’t sure how to approach this conversation. You’ve seen Hongjoong punch multiple people, you’ve seen him get hauled out of bar fights by Jongho, you’ve watched him fix up a motorcycle for an illegal street race and have lost count at watching Seonghwa patch him up.

But you’ve never had a conversation about his sexual history or how it might include you.

Lecturing Hongjoong is second nature to you, to the point that you sometimes think he enjoys the speeches. Talking to Hongjoong about his virginity? Yeah, you’re out of your element. You’re hoping that he was so drunk last night that he made the whole thing up.

But the expression on his face during his confession lingers in your mind, giving you a sneaking suspicion there wasn’t anything false about it.

Taking a deep breath, you knock on the door. You hear something clatter to the floor and then a shuffling of Hongjoong’s feet. A second later, he opens the door, avoiding your eyes.

“Hey.”

“Hi, Joong. How are you feeling? Hungover?”

“No,” He says almost defensively as if being hungover would be a slight on his character, “Just tired.”

“I was wondering if I could talk to you for a second.”

His eyes flick up to yours. There is a wariness that has settled across his delicate face. He remembers the conversation, you think as he moves to the side to let you into his room. The blinds are pulled shut over the window. The TV has some show on at a low volume, the screen brightness so dimmed that you know he is definitely hungover since it must hurt his eyes.

Hongjoong is wearing an oversized white t-shirt and a pair of baggy sweatpants. He looks somehow smaller than ever. Even with the eyebrow and lip piercings, you don’t think that it is possible to recall a time where he looked so tiny. He also smells a thousand times better than yesterday; the scent of clean laundry and soap clings to him in an almost comforting way.

You sit gingerly on the edge of Hongjoong’s bed. One side of his room is a chaotic mess of paintings in progress, a collection of paints shoved on top of his dresser in a teetering tower, completely unorganized. Hongjoong didn’t keep it a secret that he was an artist but the amount of people who knew probably could be counted on your fingers. He never showed his finished work to anyone and you only caught glimpses the rare times you were in his room.

Hongjoong just stands there, fiddling with the bottom of his shirt. You have no idea how to start this conversation.

“Listen, this is kinda awkward for me,” You begin, “But I have to talk to you about a conversation we had yesterday when you were drunk.”

“I remember it,” His tone is defensive, straightening himself out so that he looks as tall as possible.

You’ve never had his attitude directed at you before but are familiar with it. Right now, however, it comes off as artificial, an act to protect himself from however this talk goes.

“Great, okay. Were you telling the truth?”

“Why would I lie?”

“Maybe you found it funny.”

“Why would that be funny?” He snaps, his agitation and anxiety too powerful to be masked by his tough guy exterior.

You shrug. “Seeing my reaction about something like that. You might believe that I would find something amusing about an admission like that. I don’t, by the way. But when you’re drunk, sometimes what we find funny can be different.”

Hongjoong narrows his eyes slightly, crossing his arms. He looks as defensive as ever but you get the feeling he is crossing his arms more to mentally protect himself, not because he is actually hostile. “You don’t find it funny?”

“No. So, it’s true then? You’re a virgin?”

Hongjoong flinches at the word and then scowls. “Yes.”

“Not to lecture you but you do know virginity is just a social construct –”

He waves one hand dismissively as if swatting a fly. “Don’t start. I already know. I’ve read it online a thousand times. And it’s not like I have zero experience. Casually making out in bars or whatever happen often enough.”

“Right,” You reply, “But anything more than that…”

He averts his gaze, still on edge. “Nothing. It isn’t that I’m against it. I just built it up too much in my head and now it’s some gigantic thing that gives me anxiety. I’ve had a thousand different ideas. I’ve thought about just finding someone at one of the bars or one of the shows I go to and fucking them behind the stage or something and getting it over with. I don’t want it to be some fucking…cuddly romantic thing. But when it comes to pulling the trigger, I just never seem to.”

“And the idea to ask me?”

There is a flicker of embarrassment that is wiped cleanly away by his earlier expression of hostility as he replies, “You’re moving. So, if it is awkward or terrible, it doesn’t matter. I won’t ever have to see you again. It can’t ruin us being roommates cuz you’ll be gone. You understand?”

“Yeah, I get it. But there needs to be…a level of attraction for sleeping together to work, Hongjoong. And I have to admit that I never thought of you that way because you’re my roommate.”

Hongjoong tentatively sits next to you on the edge of the bed although his posture looks as if he is ready to flee at any second. “Yeah, but we’re not going to be come next week. So…think about it.”

You study his profile since he remains steadfastly looking ahead. The curve of his elegant nose, the fragility of his features – no amount of piercings could erase those things. Even his hands resting in his lap look to be made from porcelain, the bandage still wrapped around his knuckles making you wonder how he hasn’t broken a bone from throwing punches.

You try to picture Hongjoong approaching your bed, stripping your clothes off your body, his fingers running across your skin. His lips against yours, the way his breathing would change when he would be turned on. He would probably still be in control when it came to sex, judging from how he is in everything else, even if it would be entirely new to him. The idea of him turning into a whimpering mess seems unlikely to happen.

“Just think about it,” Hongjoong goes, “I know it’s…an unusual request. But I feel comfortable with you. I don’t think the anxiety would be so bad knowing you’re moving out and if it sucks, it won’t matter. That’s why I want it to be you and no one else.”

You stand up, skin strangely hot and nod. “Alright. I’ll think about it.”

Hongjoong looks relieved, nodding. “Great. Well, listen, I gotta clean my bedsheets cuz they smell like booze and I have half a pot of coffee left to go so…”

“Right, I’m going now,” You say, eyes darting to his hands one last time, thinking about how they’d feel against your thighs, “Thanks for the talk.”

Hongjoong shrugs with the air of forced casual indifference which you see right through but won’t point out. You close the door, mulling over what it would be like to sleep with him. He’s right in that there wouldn’t be any downsides. You’re moving so if it’s terrible, does it matter? It would be so easy to tumble into bed with him.

Once you’re back in your own room, you flop down on the bed and stare at the ceiling.

So think about it.

Hongjoong makes it sound so simple. That causes you to wonder how long he had been thinking about it, how long he imagined sleeping with you. He never gave any indication about such things but he also hides everything under his tough guy exterior.

In your four years of being roommates with Hongjoong, you always trusted and got along with him. Sure, his life was not one you fully understood nor wanted for your own but he seemed at ease in it. There was the time your car broke down and he sent Yeosang out to pick you up immediately. The rare time you’d attend a rock show with Hongjoong and he would viciously push any guy who tried to get a little too touchy feeling with you under the guise of being smushed in the crowd. Sometimes, after vanishing for a few days, he would reappear with your favourite Starbucks order for no reason at all. Or that one time your relationship ended because your ex cheated on you and Hongjoong played innocent when they showed up and accused him of keying his car. Not to mention the fact Hongjoong just punched that guy last night for being vulgar…

“Oh god,” You mumble, suddenly sitting up.

Of course it had been easy for Hongjoong to imagine sleeping with you. The gestures that you just assumed were typical roommate ones and hadn’t questioned are now very clearly indications of a larger interest in you. You’re only seeing it now because of his confession of his virginity and asking to lose it to you, of all people.

So think about it, he said, carefully hiding his emotions underneath the veneer of indifference and attitude.

You lay back down and finally, truly, think about it.

Hongjoong promptly vanishes the next two days. You have never noticed his absence before, always enjoying having a roommate that didn’t spend a lot of time at home. But with the last conversation being so serious, the silence feels intentional as if he is worried hanging around will create some sort of pressure on the choice you need to make.

With your old job winding down and the move mostly organized and settled, you spend a lot of time thinking about sleeping with Hongjoong. You carefully weigh the pros and cons, you consider what it would do to any possible friendship you could have with him after the move, and then you think about how he more than likely has been interested in you for years and just would never say anything about it. In fact, he seems content to let you go without asking you to go out on a date.

With anyone else, you’d assume this is because he is more interested in using you to rip the ‘virgin’ label off him. However, you know your roommate well enough to be aware that he wouldn’t act like that. In suggesting this to you, and mentioning his earlier anxiety about having sex, you believe that his feelings for you just make the entire process simpler and less stressful. He seems to be aware that, up until now, you have never looked at him in anything other than the light of a roommate and he didn’t want to ruin that by telling you of his affections.

But tonight, you texted him asking to talk and a few hours later, a little after eight pm, the front door of the apartment opens and you hear Hongjoong’s boots against the floor. You are nervous, unsure how this is going to play out. There is silence and then a hard knock on the door.

After telling him to come in, he opens the door and hovers in the entrance. Tonight he’s wearing a white button up and as usual, it is a little too large for him. It is purposely untucked although he has a black belt looped around it, smushing the fabric against his waist. His jeans don’t even have any holes in them and his nails are freshly painted black.

“Wow,” You say by way of greeting, “You look almost presentable.”

He rolls his eyes but the corners of his lips quirk up for a second. “New exhibit at the museum started and sometimes the staff gets bitchy if the people going during the opening week don’t look super presentable. There’s no official dress code there but you know what I mean. I didn’t feel like having a lot of old people gawk at me while I was looking at the paintings.”

“Right, I understand.”

There is a beat of silence. Hongjoong leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms. You can almost see the walls going up as he prepares for rejection.

“Anyway, you wanted to talk?” He prompts.

You wish he wasn’t on the other side of the room while you sit on your bed. But you know better than to make Hongjoong feel cornered, especially with such a sensitive discussion on the table.

“I wanted to talk about our conversation the other day. I’ve been thinking a lot about it.”

“Alright…” He trails off, quickly masking the sudden insecurity that is hitting him by darting his eyes away from you.

You inhale slowly and then go, “I want to. If you still are interested, I mean.”

Hongjoong’s eyes snap back in your direction, the surprise written all over his face. The vulnerability shown there takes you by surprise, a glimpse underneath his cool exterior that you weren’t prepared for.

But then the look is gone, replaced with that typical hard expression. He narrows his eyes, pushing away from the doorframe and towards you. “Do you mean it? You’re not just saying this because you feel pressured? Because it’s fine if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t feel pressured. I want to.”

“Why?” His tone is laced with hostility, another defense mechanism he’s deploying in navigating this conversation.

Hongjoong stands in front of you now, smelling of clean laundry and his familiar cologne still clinging to his skin. Tilting your face to look upwards at him, you speak.

“Because your logic makes sense. If it’s awkward or terrible, I’m moving and we don’t ever have to see one another again. We’ve known each other for years. I’m comfortable with you. And…” You steel yourself for the next comment, unsure how he will take it. “And I figured it out. How you feel about me.”

Hongjoong goes very still, staring at you with a careful blank stare on his face. But for all his attempts at coming off indifferent, he flexes the fingers of his right hand to try to steady his nerves.

You continue to talk, although it is in a bit of a faster voice than before, nervous Hongjoong is going to take something the wrong way and leave. “I know you didn’t mean for me to learn that you might see more as more than friends or a roommate. I only realized it after you asked me about sleeping together. I understand your reasoning more now; it isn’t just about the fact I am moving away. Your feelings about me make the entire thing a little more comfortable, a little less anxiety inducing. I get it.”

“I don’t want you sleeping with me out of pity,” He replies stiffly.

“I’m not.”

“How is this not pity?” He says hotly.

“Because you told me to think about it. About being with you. So, I thought about it.”

“And?” He demands, refusing to budge from his hostility.

You take a steadying breath and bring your hands carefully forward, gently grabbing onto the belt around his waist, giving it a small tug to bring Hongjoong closer. “And I want you,” You say simply.

Something in his fragile face seems to shift at the words, like small cracks in fine china. One second, he stands in front of you defensive and on edge. In the next second, he is bending down to cup your cheeks in his hands, his lips hot against yours. You gasp in surprise, muffled in the kiss. Even with all your daydreaming about him since his admission of being a virgin, the reality of Hongjoong kissing you is a bit surreal.

Your hands grip his belt, pulling on it to lead him onto the bed as you lay back against the pillows, not breaking the kiss. His tongue slips in your mouth and there is heat growing in your body like a slow wave. You weren’t expecting the kiss to be this intense, unsure what it would be like to actually have him in this manner.

The kiss ends suddenly and Hongjoong is peering closely at your face. His breathing is uneven and his normally guarded expression is open with all the concerns and worries floating around in his head.

You are slightly disoriented from the kiss, wondering why he stopped.

“Do you want to keep going?” He asks in a soft voice, the softest you’ve heard from him.

You swallow hard, disbelieving that he does not see the impact the kiss had on you. “Yeah, unless…unless you’re having second thoughts.”

“I’m not,” He goes and there is that same defiance creeping back in his tone, that jagged edge of his personality you have grown so accustomed to over the years. “I just wasn’t sure if you were.”

“I’m not, Joong. I want – I mean, you can kiss me again. If you want.”

His lips are back against yours, not requiring another suggestion nor word from you. This time, your hands circle around his waist, bunching the fabric of his shirt in your hands, holding onto him while continuing to kiss. All that making out must have paid off because Hongjoong’s kisses are the type that leave you breathless, your heart thrumming in your chest like a trapped bird.

But he sticks to kissing and it strikes you that he is not going to be as in charge or bossy as you previously thought. He is simply too shy to act on what he wants, tying into his story about his anxiety and how it kept him from losing his virginity.

You begin to kiss along his jawline and down his neck. The touch makes him shiver and you realize how sensitive he is. Carefully, you bring one hand upwards to his hair, the blue strands curling around your fingers, feeling the softness against your skin. Hongjoong’s breath hitches; it is a foreign sound to you, something entirely brand new from a person you believed to know almost everything about.

“Does that feel nice?” You ask quietly in between kissing along his neck.

Hongjoong makes a soft humming noise in response, a mixture of too shy and too turned on to speak. Carefully, you change positions so that he is now underneath your body. You’re straddling him, leaning forward to drape your body against his, finding his lips once more. His hands tentatively move along your sides, just brushing underneath your shirt to touch bare skin.

Your body shivers from the slight touch which seems to give Hongjoong confidence because his fingers trail upwards, underneath your shirt and stopping right where your bra begins. He is stiff in his jeans and it is difficult to hold back and not grind down against his body just to hear what your roommate sounds like turned on.

Moving your hand away from Hongjoong’s hair, you bring it to meet where his hovers. Carefully, you cover his hand with yours, allowing it to travel upwards to your bra. His breathing has quickened as he begins to grope you. Shyly, his other hand comes to your chest, squeezing your tits as you resume kissing him.

Your tongue is in his mouth and your brain is overrun by the scent of him, the sensation of his hands, how he feels underneath your body. You’re wet, you realize with a jolt, turned on by Hongjoong and the gentle unraveling of him occurring so close to you.

The kiss breaks and this time you’re studying Hongjoong’s face. There is a hint of colour in his cheeks, his lips are flushed from all the making out and he has one tiny hickey already forming on the delicate skin of his neck. You don’t even recall giving it to him.

The expression in his eyes is one of an unraveling – his typical tough guy posture is being pulled away like a cover off a painting, exposing the centre of Hongjoong in a way that you have never seen before.

The desire to see Hongjoong completely undone hits you squarely in the chest. It is a powerful urge to see what he looks and sounds like when he is experiencing intense pleasure. You pull off your t-shirt, tossing it to the side. Hongjoong swallows hard, eyes widening while you unclasp your bra and bring his hands back up to your bare breasts.

He seems entranced with groping them, brushing his fingertips across your nipples. When it makes you shiver, he repeats the action, clearly studying what makes you react the most. You’re swiftly undoing the buttons of his dress shirt, stopping to remove his belt which drops off the bed with a clatter. He sits up slightly as you peel it off his shoulders, removing it entirely and leaving Hongjoong bare chested.

Running your hands down his chest, you take in the sight of his toned chest and hard abdomen. Experimentally, you rock your hips just a little, just enough to put some pressure on his groin. He inhales sharply, eyes closing for a moment. Hongjoong is a delicate thing underneath you, sensitive to any and all pleasure that is entirely brand new to him.

You slide off him, kicking off your shorts and unzipping his pants. He lifts his hips to allow them to be removed, leaving him in just his boxers. Your gaze turns to Hongjoong, making sure he is doing okay. There is a look of determination in his eyes to keep going although there is still the same hint of vulnerability that grows stronger every time an article of clothing is removed.

“You wanna keep going?” You check in.

Hongjoong nods firmly although his voice is soft when replying, “Don’t stop.”

Your hand glides over his thigh and up to his boxers, rubbing him gently. There is a small moan from him, so quiet as if he is holding back. You squeeze his cock through the boxers and his eyes close tightly, mumbling a curse under his breath.

Slowly, you pull down his boxers, freeing his cock from them. Hongjoong is stiff and warm, the heavy weight of his length against his stomach. You wrap your hand around his cock and he whimpers. Having never heard such a noise from him before, you stop, letting him get used to the sensation.

But Hongjoong doesn’t seem to be interested in stopping because in a breathless voice he goes, “P-please.”

Hearing him so desperate leaves you unable to refuse. You spit in the palm of your hand and slowly stroke Hongjoong’s length, fighting the urge to take him in your mouth. But you don’t want to overwhelm Hongjoong with too much, not now, not for his first time. Instead, you lean forward and plant one kiss on the tip which elicits a groan from your roommate.

“Is there a certain way you’d like to do this?” You ask, wanting him to make all the choices.

Hongjoong opens his eyes, casting a look downward while you stroke his length. His breathing is shallow, his pupils blown out with desire and his blue hair framing his elegant face.

“Just…if you could…” His shyness is growing by the second, completely unlike every conversation you’ve ever had before with him, “If you could be on top,” He finishes quickly, the colour in his cheeks deepening.

You’re surprised again at how Hongjoong is like putty in your hands, so swift to give over all control and let you lead the process. For someone who is usually outspoken and bossy, this turn is enticing. Seeing your roommate crumble from every touch makes the pull towards him even more acute.

Slipping your underwear off, you straddle Hongjoong. His cock presses in between your folds and he moans again. His blue hair is splayed against the pillow, a bright splash of electric ocean that only highlights his small frame and tender appearance.

Positioning yourself so that his cock is at your entrance, you lower your hips. His cock pushes inside your wet hole and Hongjoong groans louder, his head rolling back as the pleasure engulfs his length. He enters easily, your pussy slick with juices from just exploring and touching him. When he is fully inside your cunt, you go still, letting him get used to being inside you.

Hongjoong is unspooling in front of you. All the previous hostile energy he used to protect himself is gone. The fragility on display now is both a turn on and endearing. His bandaged hand grips the bed sheets, his eyes fluttering open to look at you. The colour deepens across his cheeks, making him look almost like a sunset across the ocean.

You lean forward and kiss him. He tilts his face to meet your lips, the desperation evident in how he moves his tongue and the way he is trembling underneath your body. You still don’t move your hips, enjoying the sensation of Hongjoong’s cock buried in you.

He is kissing along your jaw and down your neck, growing bold enough to bring his hands around your back, gently indicating to move forward a little. As you do so, your pussy tightens around his cock and Hongjoong groans again as his lips find your nipples, placing one in your mouth so he can suck on them. Your hands are next to his head, gripping the sheets as you begin to move your hips back, starting to ride him.

Hongjoong switches to your other nipple, his teeth grazing the skin as he gropes your other breast with his hand. When he slips your nipple out of his mouth, his hands go to your shoulders, pulling you back down so that he can kiss you again. Your lips meet his hungrily as the rocking of your hips steadily increases. His tongue is messy in your mouth, his hands against your back, a whimpering mess with each movement taken.

You pull away, straightening out on top of him, beginning to properly bounce on his cock now. All the years of being roommates are wiped away by the sight of Hongjoong delirious with pleasure. His hands glide down to your hips as the noises tumble from his lips. Hongjoong is not quiet in the slightest; there is none of the silenced pleasure you are so used to having from your past lovers. His eyes are closed once more and his eyelashes lay against his skin like small whisps of a raven’s feathers. He arches his hips at one point as you sink down on his cock and your hands lay flat against his stomach. The muscles are hard underneath your fingers and your speed increases, driving your pussy down faster to get a stronger reaction out of Hongjoong.

It works. Whatever else residing in his brain is quickly wiped away from how good it feels. He curses loudly, his eyes opening to reveal a hazy expression of lust and desire. A strand of his blue hair lays across his forehead, his tongue pokes out from in between his lips, and his grip tightens on your hips. He is a mess, each ragged gasp and whimper his way of wishing that the pleasure would never stop, a desperate plea to extend this moment forever. It is difficult to merge the Hongjoong underneath you – the one with the flushed skin, ragged breathing and slender frame trembling – as your roommate who punched a guy from mouthing off the other night, the same man who showed no hesitation in telling someone off for the slightest mistake.

It is even trickier to accept that it is you making him feel this way. You are unsure what Hongjoong pictured for his first time but did he know how he would crumble when put against your body? Did he know that everything would be this intense due to a mixture of his feelings for you and how long you’ve known one another? Was he aware of how he would be a writhing whimpering man far removed from how he acted in public?

His jaw is clenched as he gasps out, “I’m gonna – I’m so close,” With desperation he pulls at you, bringing your body against his as he pleads, “Kiss me.”

Your lips are hot on his, the kiss desperate, your tongues pressing together as you bring your hips down one final time. Hongjoong’s groan is muffled as he begins his climax. He clings to you, his arms around your back, fingernails gently pressing into your skin. The kiss ends and you watch as Hongjoong submits completely to his orgasm, erasing all signs of the roommate you once thought you knew. You can feel his warm cum in your cunt, the beautiful vulnerability of his facial expressions as he submits to the dizzying high of the climax.

Hongjoong’s hands slide off your back, his breathing hard and fast as he tries to wipe the haze from his brain. Carefully, you move off his lap, laying down next to him. Your eyes rake across his body, admiring his small frame, his chest and messy hair. He opens his eyes and turns onto his side, propping himself up a little to stare at you. His eyebrow piercing glints in the light.

You are unsure how to start the conversation. How do you ask your roommate if losing his virginity was enjoyable? His cum is leaking out of your pussy, something you never thought would happen. Casual conversation at this point seems asinine.

But before you can utter a word, Hongjoong looks crossed and goes, “You didn’t cum.”

The ever familiar expression of hostility creeps back across his pretty face, a signal to a return to form. The satisfaction that just obliterated his earlier composure is swiftly replaced by a petulant expression.

“Oh,” You’re surprised, not thinking he noticed nor care so much, “I mean, this was more about you than me…” You trail off, taking note of his frown.

“Who said that?” He demands, “Just teach me.”

“Teach you what?”

A tiny bit of timidity creeps back into his eyes but he resolutely pushes through it and goes, “How to eat your pussy.”

It’s the dirtiest thing Hongjoong has ever said to you and momentarily renders you speechless. Finally, you nod, moving back among the pillows. Hongjoong doesn’t waste a moment, shifting so that he is in front of you. His hands are on your thighs and he gently spreads your legs apart. Having him looking at your pussy which still has his cum leaking out of it feels incredibly intimate and you’re thrown off by the sudden timidness that is sweeping over you.

Hongjoong’s cheeks are flushing with colour again but the expression on his face is one of determination and a growing passion. He brings two fingers down along your slit, spreading your lips apart just enough to take in the sight of his cum in your hole.

In a shaky voice, he goes, “You have a pretty pussy.” You are unsure if it is nerves making his voice quake, lust or a mixture of both. He slips his fingers in his mouth for a couple of seconds and then brings one to your entrance, pushing it inside. “Is that okay?”

You nod but then realize Hongjoong is too busy staring at the way you’re taking his finger. “Y-yeah, that’s perfect.”

“I like pushing my load back in you,” His voice is soft and tentative, dirty talk being something new to him, but you give him credit for pushing through his anxiety, “It looks good.”

You bring your hand down to your clit, rubbing it a little while saying, “Bring your tongue here –” The rest of your explanation is cut off as Hongjoong doesn’t waste a second, lowering his face to your pussy and rolling his tongue across your clit.

You curse in surprise as Hongjoong’s tongue presses against your nub, his finger pumping in your hole slowly. At first, his movements are a little awkward and unsure but with more guiding, he switches to flicking his tongue across your clit while inserting a second finger. This feels much better and Hongjoong seems pleased to hear the moans that are flowing freely from your mouth now.

He fucks you faster with his fingers, burying them inside you. Your pussy is a mess of his cum and your wetness and as his pace accelerates, so do the lewd noises of your hole taking him. At one point, he pulls away to watch how your hole is wrapped around his fingers. He looks entranced and when he suddenly looks up, his face is covered in you and his cheeks are a deep pink.

“Am I…am I doing okay?” He asks, unsure of himself.

“Yes,” You breathe out, “Can you fuck me faster? And try sucking on my clit.”

Hongjoong, apparently ever obedient in bed, wraps his lips around your swollen clit while picking up the speed of his finger thrusts. You gasp, your hand going to his hair, curling it around your fingertips. You quietly urge him to keep going, noticing that each compliment you give him only seems to make Hongjoong more determined to bring you to climax. Out of all the interesting things you’re learning about your roommate today, finding out he has an affinity to being complimented for doing a good job has to be the most surprising.

“Don’t stop, Joong,” You plead as his fingers are buried in your cunt and he is switching between sucking and flicking his tongue over your clit as your thighs shake, “Please, you’re doing such a good job.”

He makes a noise that is almost a sigh of contentment, not stopping for a moment. Your climax begins with one final movement of his tongue. Between his fingers and how he works your clit, you lose yourself to Hongjoong. Your grip on his hair tightens as the bliss reaches its peak. His name tumbles from your lips as he stops touching your clit and instead slips his tongue inside your hole. The slurping sounds are obscene yet he doesn’t seem to care. It is only when your orgasm finally subsides that your hold on his hair releases and you are trying to catch your breath.

A second later, Hongjoong’s head pops up in your vision, his expression as earnest as you’ve ever seen it. “Was that good? Did I do a good job?”

You know that it’ll be a secret taken to your grave that Hongjoong turns into a needy little thing in bed. You would never want to ruin his reputation.

In response, you reach out, yanking him down so that the two of you are kissing. He makes a noise of surprise but returns the kiss immediately. He tastes like your arousal; he tastes like you want more of him.

Stepping back into your room after cleaning up, now dressed back in your clothes, Hongjoong is just finishing doing up the last button on his dress shirt. He glances up at your entrance. His face is back in its usual neutral expression although the way his fingers shake against the button betrays his real emotions.

“Are you leaving?” You ask curiously.

Hongjoong nods. “Yeah, got some stuff to do.” He’s lying and you know it but don’t want to press things.

Yet you still wonder what happens now. Knowing about his feelings for you combined with the sexual chemistry, you think it would be a shame if things just really ended here. You hadn’t expected sex to be that enjoyable nor had you thought that Hongjoong unraveling underneath your body would have looked so good.

“Joong, before you go…”

He looks up from zipping up his jeans, his belt hanging loosely in between his fingers. His eyes are guarded, his disposition wary. All the walls are back up.

“Yeah?”

“Well, I mean, is that just…it? You ‘lost’ your virginity and I just move out and we barely talk anymore?”

His brow furrows, his piercings glinting as he walks towards you. You aren’t sure why you’re pressing this discussion now minus a gut feeling that if you don’t do it at this very moment, Hongjoong is going to slip out the front door because his vulnerability will lead him to clamming up. You’ll move out and probably never see him again.

His back is against the doorframe, his gaze heavy on yours. His shirt hangs off him loosely, the front dipping to reveal the top of his chest. The hickey has darkened against his skin.

“What else is there?” He juts his chin out but a flicker of anxiety in his eyes exposes him.

“I liked being with you. It felt good and…” Slightly embarrassing to admit this aloud but you keep going, “I like you. I realized it when you were underneath me. I know you have feelings for me. Why can’t we see where this goes after I move out?”

He looks surprised but quickly covers it up with a cocky expression, poking his finger against your hip. “You want me to ask you out on a date, don’t you?”

“Well…yes.”

Another poke. “You had that much fun with me?”

“You’re fishing for compliments now.”

“You were quick to give them out when we were fucking,” He retorts, “Why can’t I get any now?”

“Because you’re back to being Mr. Cool Guy and I thought you don’t want any compliments unless someone is like ‘nice right hook’ or something.”

His hand comes to a stop on your hip, looking at you with the expression of a cat that just found a glass of milk unattended. “Come out with me on a date.”

Hongjoong has looked at you a thousand times over the years but never quite so openly as he is right now. You can feel it all the way down to your toes and it throws you completely off balance. The dichotomy of him during sex and outside of sex makes the magnetic pull stronger.

“Okay,” You say simply as his hand snakes to your lower back and pushes you forward just enough so that he is pressing against your body, “O-oh!” You gasp in surprise and then quickly try to brush it off with the question, “What are we gonna do on the date?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll do the typical tedious date shit,” His eyes drop to your lower half before raising one eyebrow, “Maybe afterwards though, I can do what I did earlier. I gotta admit that it was pretty fun to hear you be that loud just because of my tongue,” He leans forward, bringing his lips close to your ear, “And you tasted good too.”

Your head spins, surprised at how easily Hongjoong can bounce back from being such a whimpering mess to openly flirting about eating you out. But Hongjoong has always displayed a cocky exterior and it didn’t look like that was going to magically change. You’re also taken aback by how weak in the knees you feel.

Swatting his hand away, you take a step back, hoping he can’t tell how flustered you are or you’ll never hear the end of it. “Didn’t you have somewhere to be?”

“I was lying to get out of here in case the conversation got awkward,” He openly admits, looping his belt through his jeans, shaking his blue hair out of his eyes, “But now I’m actually hungry. You wanna grab something to eat with me? Strictly in a roommate capacity.”

“Sure. Let me get ready real quick.”

“Alright,” He turns to walk out of your room but stops when you say his name, looking over his shoulder, “What?”

“Do you feel any different? Now that you’re not a virgin, I mean.”

Hongjoong looks thoughtful for a moment and then shrugs. “Nah, I feel the same. I guess because I lost it to you.” The words take you by surprise and there is a small hint of colour on his cheeks at the admission. “It just felt natural with you. You’re ah…always the one I wanted to lose it with,” He scowls then as if disgusted by opening up in such a manner, “Come on, go change. I’m seriously starving.”

You watch him leave, shutting the door behind him. In the quiet space of your room, you press your fingers against your chest, feeling the thrum of your heart. Maybe it had been easy to overlook Hongjoong all these years due to the formality of being roommates.

But it is evident to your mind and body that you are no longer overlooking your vulnerable yet prideful roommate thanks to his drunken declaration a few nights ago.

Lucky you.

the end.

Tags: @thewonderofkpop - @obligatoryidolblog - @yunhofingers - @foggyinternetchaos - @multiland - @whatudowhennooneseesyou - @jess-1404 - @just-here-to-read-01 - @likexaxdaydream - @senpai-of-doom - @halazea - @moonsangie - @woosfantasy - @yungiology - @erensluut - @yeosang-dot-mp3 - @lvnateez - @carodrug - @fruitcakebin - @yyakitori - @salam2salang - @cath1418 - @lilhwahwa - @btsreader12 - @talkbykhalid - @pyeonghongrie-main - @inneratinyrebel - @8tinytings - @cherrypandora - @almondmilkeu - @kitten4sannie - @leo-seonghwa - @silentcry329 - @shesinthrain - @northerngalxy - @ateezstanforever - @yourfatherlucifer - @jagiyaracha - @myyyshinelight - @marievllr-abg - @kibs-and-bits - @ddeonghwassimp - @oizyscherry - @lil-killer-kitten - @necessiteez - @lmnhead - @thesongofalyssa - @orithyia-eriphyle - @turtash - @mingigiggles - @tvxqnnie - @biddes-enthusiast - @seonghwasmuffin - sorry, it didn't let me tag some of yall.

#ateez fics #ateez smut #hongjoong fics #hongjoong smut #hongjoong x reader #kpop fic #declaration #500 notes #1000 notes

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magnoliavasconcelos · 3 months

Text

"He's just a baby"

Pairing: Jungkook x fem!reader

Word count: 382

Warnings: explicit language, suggestive themes

Content: fluff, established relationship, one shot

Situation: your food is too good, Bam is too clingy and Jungkook wouldn't swap his little family for anything.

"What the fuck is this?"

The first words came from a tired Jungkook, dressed in baggy black clothes, hands on his waist and a smile growing on his face.

"What?"

"Have you seen yourself?"

He said, pointing at Bam and me, lying on the sofa with a blanket, Bam's head on my chest as I pet him.

"He deserves pampering, look at his face." Jungkook laughs in disbelief. "Have you seen his size?"

"I think someone's jealous, but who am I to talk, I would be too if a beautiful woman like me wasn't paying me any attention." I say with a small smile looking at Bam once again.

"Of course I am, I know my rights." He says, as he leans in to kiss me. "I made us food." I say, pointing to the kitchen worktop. I see his doe eyes growing as he looks at the food I've prepared. His favourite ramen, with green onions, soft boiled eggs and sesame seeds.

Smelling a sweet scent through his button nose, he looked over and there were small freshly made chocolat cookies with hearts on top.

"You did all this?" He asked me, his eyes wide. "Yes, I went to buy the flour at the shop of that older couple we met."

Ahhh, that day. He thought. A week ago, when we had gone to walk Bam, we found a precious shop, run by an elderly couple, where everything seemed to be in perfect condition. But nothing was more perfect than his girl in a yellow sundress and his dog always on guard around her.

"I love you." Jungkook says as he looks at me with such affection that I feel like I'm going to explode. "I love you too..." I say and then he interrupts me. "No, I love you. In an inexplicable way, in a way that makes me want to enjoy every moment with you. In bad times and in good times, when we laugh like fools, when you get upset about someone at work and I start planning to kill them, when I miss a step in a routine and you cheer me up, when I complain that Bam steals you away from me but I love that he loves you like a mother, the fact that I came home to delicious food you made. I'm just madly in love with our home life."

"Stop it..." I say and feel my cheeks heat up. Jungkook walks up to me with a mischievous smile. "I won't stop, pretty thing." He starts kissing me all over my face, while Bam starts snuggling closer to me, pushing Jungkook further away. "Bam stop stealing my girl, you've had her all day, now it's my turn."

"Don't talk to him like that, he's just a baby." I look at the Doberman. "Who's Mummy's cutest baby?" I ask in a baby voice, causing Bam to climb on top of me and lick my face.

"Give me some attention, I thought I was your baby too." The singer, with tattoos and piercings adorning his smooth skin and bulging muscles, looks at me with an irresistible pout, making me grab his face and kiss him. "You'll always be my baby, my sweet boy, my golden boy, my Kookie..."

He takes me round the waist and kisses me like a hungry man. "I'd really like to eat you right now, but I think we'd better eat the food you've prepared and deal with it later." Jeon tells me without a hint of shame, leaving me all soft. I just nod and we head for the dining table, sit on his lap and enjoy our meal before moving on to the next one.

This is my first fic, hope I can get better.

#jungkook x reader #idol jungkook #idol #idol jungkook x reader #K-pop #BTS #BTS x reader #fluff #one shot #fanfic #established rp #female reader #Bam #jungkook x reader bam #jungkook x reader Bam

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wandanatsgf · 2 months

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Sugar, Sugar Part 1

Pairing: WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: After losing your job, you are desperate to come up with some money. Your best friend Kate signs you up for a sugar baby app where you meet Wanda and Natasha, who eventually become your sugar mommies.

Authors Note: I've been reading so many sugar mommy!wandanat x reader fics that I wanted to make one myself. I know the beginning is a bit rough, but I'm just trying to set everything up. I promise it will get better!!!! There will also be plenty of smut in the upcoming chapters, this is just a warning for that now. And I plan on making many parts to this. I hope you all enjoy it!

Part 2

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” you dramatically exclaim. You drape yourself across the old and slightly musty couch in your small two person apartment. Your work uniform rides up your body a little as you lay down, which you quickly pull down, covering yourself again. You pull your right arm over your eyes, trying to block out the light and the horrible day you just had.

Your best friend and roommate Kate laughs sympathetically at your dramatics. “I know getting fired sucks but there’s tons of ways to make money.” She moves your legs and sits down next to you, placing your legs on top of her.

“Like what?”

“Well you could mow lawns, dog sit, babysit, just until you find another job,” Kate suggests.

“I guess I could but I just don’t know if that would be able to cover my bills and let alone rent.”

“Well there is another thing you can try.” The tone in Kate's voice has you sitting up, removing your arm so you can look at her.

“You remember my friend Darcy that I told you about?”

“Yeah the super rich, successful one.”

“Well when she was in college she was a sugar baby,” Kate says before she cuts herself off to scold you. “And y/n don’t give me that look just hear me out!”

“Ok fine, keep talking.”

“Well she got a whole bunch of money from it. She was able to pay off her student loans and she had some money leftover that she invested and y’know now she’s rich and super successful and hot and amazing. But that wasn’t the point.” Kate shakes her head at herself, scolding herself for getting off topic like she always does. “Anyway maybe you should try being a sugar baby.”

“I don’t know Kate.” Sure this would be a great opportunity for you, if you find someone that is, but do you really want to use your body to get money?

“You could just look and see what’s out there. You don’t have to accept any sugar daddy or sugar mommy proposals,” Kate says and you’ve got to admit that she’s got a good point.

“Ok what the hell,” you say, agreeing.

“Let me just get the sugar baby app name from Darcy and we can do this.”

A few minutes later the app is downloaded on your phone. You feel nervous but also excited. This could be a way for you to not have to worry about money, at least for a while. Maybe it would be nice to be taken care of.

“Ok it’s downloaded, let’s set it up.” The two of you create your profile and pretty soon you’re looking at sugar mommies and sugar daddies.

“What about this one?” You ask Kate. You pass her the phone, and from the look on her face you can tell that it’s a no go.

“Definitely not,” Kate says, her nose wrinkling up in disgust.

“Why not?”

“I know you, and that’s not what you want.” You have to admit she is right, you don’t really want some 50 year old with a penchant for “parading his girls around” as he called it, but you’re desperate and he is the best looking person on there so far.

You continue to scroll through the men and women, none of them really catching your eye until you see the profile of a beautiful red haired girl and an equally beautiful auburn haired girl. You would recognize their faces anywhere, Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff, the owners of the country's best security company.

“There’s no way this is real,” you say. “This has to be some sort of joke or something.” You pass her your phone and watch as her eyes go comically wide.

“There’s no way the Natasha Romanoff and the Wanda Maximoff are looking for a sugar baby,” you say. You practically scoff at the idea, but there’s still that little voice in your head that wonders if maybe the profile is real.

“There’s only one way to find out,” Kate says. She still has your phone in your hands and you watch as she types, until finally she stops.

“Katie what did you do?”

“I just messaged them,” Kate says innocently. You glance down at the message and it says, “Hi my name is y/n and I’d love to get to know you both and see if I’m what you’re looking for ;),”

“Did you have to add the wink Katie? They’re gonna think I’m like a whore or something now,” you whine.

“Oh relax you big baby. It’s fine. And besides maybe a whore is what they’re looking for,” Kate says, giving you a wink.

“Kate!” You exclaim. You lightly slap her on the arm.

“Owww y/n. You’re very feisty for such a tiny person.”

“Serves you right,” you mutter underneath your breath. The two of you continue to scroll through the app when you see a notification pop up.

Natasha and Wanda had replied to your message.

“Oh my god,” you say. You can feel yourself freaking out, even when you’re going into the texting part of the app and opening the message.

“Hi darling, we’d love to get to know you more too! We’re Natasha and Wanda, we’re both sugar mommies who are looking for a sugar baby to share. We work quite a bit, but we promise that we’ll still have time for you if things work out between us. Can’t wait to hear back from you,” the message reads. You show the message to Kate who responds with excitement.

But you can feel yourself freaking out on the inside even more now. However your doubts from earlier creep in and calm you down. There’s a big chance that this is just a catfish, but you still want to take the chance. Who wouldn’t want an opportunity to be with Natasha and Wanda?

“Help me come up with a response,” you tell the girl sitting next to you. After a few minutes of back and forth, the two of you come up with what you think is the perfect response.

“Thanks for getting back to me so quickly. I’m y/n, a sugar baby who is currently in college trying to pay off my loans. I normally have plenty of time on my hands and would be able to be around whenever you need.”

You cringe at the last part of the message, which was all Kate’s idea, but clearly it worked because a few minutes later you have a text inviting you out to get some coffee tomorrow afternoon and you say yes.

“You have to come with me though, just in case it’s like a catfish or something,” you tell your best friend.

“Of course, I’ll sit in the cafe and just text me if you need me,” Kate says reassuring you.

The next day comes too quickly and before you know it you and Kate are sitting in the cafe waiting for Natasha and Wanda. You’re sitting at a table in the back, while Kate is sitting at a table across the room from you. The minutes seem to drag on forever, making you even more anxious than you already are. Everytime the bell above the door goes off, you glance up, hoping it’s one of the girls walking through. You’re just about to lose hope when you see Natasha and Wanda walk in. They look so breathtakingly beautiful.

“Hi Y/n,” Wanda says, being the first to greet you. She towers over you as she envelopes you in a hug, which you gladly reciprocate.

“Hi,” you say back. It comes out quieter than you meant it to. You can feel your cheeks heating up, but gladly both women ignore it.

“And hi I’m Natasha,” the red haired girl says. She also towers over you, but you like that about the two women. She also envelopes you into a hug. She smells like vanilla and smoke and it gives you a sense of comfort. The three of you sit down and the two women get straight to the point.

“So as you know we’re looking for a sugar baby,” Natasha says, her voice a low tone. “We just wanted to meet with you today to go over some things and see if we’d get along,” she explains.

“Ok that sounds good,” you agree.

“Have you ever been in a dynamic like this before?”

“No I haven’t,” you say, your blush coming back. You can feel your nerves getting worse as well as you fidget with a ring on your hand.

“It’s ok to be nervous baby, we won’t bite,” Wanda leans in to tell you. She places her hand on top of yours, stopping your fidgeting. She places her hand in yours, which you gladly hold.

“That’s alright, we’re pretty new to this too. But there are a couple of things we wanted to go over today. First, when do you have class?”

“Well Tuesday and Thursday mornings I have class until 11am, but besides that my days are wide open.” This answer makes Natasha smile, which in turn makes you smile.

“What is it that you need help with?” You appreciate that Natasha is getting straight to the point, it’s doing wonders at calming your nerves.

“Mostly rent and some bills. I, uh, just lost my job and it’s been hard to stay afloat.”

“Well that won’t be a problem now that we’re here,” Natasha tells you, sending you a wink. The action sends a blush across your face, turning it a shade of pink.

"I know this isn't exactly normal," Natasha says, "But we promise if today works out, which I think it will, we'll take care of you darling." Natasha's words make you smile. Normally you were never so shy around people, but the two women next to you really bring it out in you.

“Do you have any questions for us honey?” Wanda asks.

“Yes actually. What is it exactly that I would be doing?”

“You would keep us company, go to some company functions with us, and,” Natasha says, her voice dropping low as she says the next part, “have sex with us when we want it.”

“But obviously we would work up to that part,” Wanda adds cheerfully.

“Ok,” you say, taking all of that information in. You knew going into this that sex would be on the table, but it shocks you that these two beautiful women are wanting to do it with you.

“I’m sorry if this is a weird question, but aren’t the two of you together? What exactly do you need me for?”

“Yes we’re together sweetheart, but we’re not the most compatible in the bedroom.”

“What Wanda means is that we’re both pretty dominant and we need someone submissive to fulfill our needs,” Natasha says. Wanda slaps her on her arm and lightly scolds her, making you giggle.

“I can do that,” you say, letting both of them know that you want this. The thought of being submissive for both of them stirs a longing within you. You can feel a slight dampness in your panties and you cross your legs, hoping Wanda, who is still holding your hand, doesn’t notice. But of course she does.

“You already feeling a little needy, baby?” Wanda whispers, her cockiness coming out of nowhere, but god does it turn you on. Her lips ghost on the outer shell of your ear, causing your breathing to become ragged.

“Mhm,” you manage to get out.

“You’re so cute when you’re needy. I can’t wait to see just how needy I can make you,” Wanda says. She leans away from you, but not before leaving a soft kiss on your cheek, making you go pink.

“Don’t kill the poor girl Wanda,” Natasha scolds.

“I can’t help it, she’s just so cute,” Wanda says, like you aren't there, which just turns you on even more.

“Yeah she is,” Natasha agrees.

You don’t know what to say, too absorbed in your own lust, when Natasha speaks again, snapping you out of it.

“Here are our phone numbers,” she says, slipping you a piece of paper. You take the pieces of paper and program their numbers into your phone and you give them your number and they do the same.

“We’ll text you tomorrow to work out the details and set up a contract, assuming you still want to do this?” Wanda questions.

“I do,” you reassure her.

“Then we’ll talk to you tomorrow, detka,” Wanda says. The two women get up, both hugging you goodbye. You watch the two women walk out, having forgotten that Kate was also at the cafe until she comes up to you.

“Oh my god,” Kate says.

“I know,” is all you say.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to get two sugar mommies.”

#wandanat #wandanat x reader #marvel #mcu #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #sugar mommy!wanda #sugar mommy!natasha #scarlet witch x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #wanda x reader smut #natasha x reader smut

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thetriumphantpanda · 6 months

Text

Beggin' For It | Joel Miller

The Checklist - Orgasm Denial

Chapter Summary | Your new boyfriend Joel, in the process of helping you pack up your apartment, finds your stash of porn, full of all the things you've been scared of asking for. He surprises you by offering to help you tick them off, starting by denying you the thing you always love the most.

Chapter Warnings | This is basically porn without plot. Explicit smut, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, unprotected PiV sex, talk of contraceptives, orgasm denial, creampie, dirty talk, pet names (baby), hair pulling, established relationship, No Outbreak AU, No Use of Y/N.

Word Count | 3.7k

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Authors Note | Well here we go, the Joel Miller Kink extravaganza. I had SO much fun writing this and putting this together so I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I love writing it! If you do enjoy this, reblogs and comments are always appreciated, and if you'd like to support me further, you can donate to my Ko-Fi.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

Your face is burning hot, and your stomach is in knots of anxiety as you stand in the doorway to your room, two glasses of water in hand, watching Joel, who is sat on your bed with a spread of magazine’s spread out across the duvet. Those fucking magazines, stored carefully in the bottom drawer of your bedside table. Some are straight up pornographic, plucked from the top shelf of the store, paid for and shoved into the depths of your bag before anyone apart from you and the cashier knew what it was. Others are those silly gossip magazines, Cosmopolitan mainly, pages folded in all of them of the pictures you like the most, the ones that help you get off the quickest, the things you want to try the most. And they’re all spread out for him to see.

“W-where did you f-find those?” You choke out, swallowing thickly, hands gripping the two glasses so hard you’re surprised they don’t shatter.

Joel shrugs, “You asked me to start packing the stuff from the drawers into boxes,” He says, because you did, your apartment in disarray as you’re packing up to move into his home, “I opened the drawer and found them.”

Joel was never planned. You’d been more than happy on your own. When you met him, on a random Sunday morning, you’d been out of your last relationship for almost a year. You’d been staring at different types of nails at the hardware store, cursing yourself that you hadn’t thought to research what the best nails for hanging pictures up would be, when his Southern drawl had pricked your ears.

“Need any help, miss?”

You’d turned, taken a step back because he was taller than you, broad, and definitely older too. Grey scruff peppered along his jaw, some in his hair too, and big brown eyes that screamed kindness at you. He was the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen.

“Huh?” Was all you could manage to let out, cursing yourself for seeming like the typical dumb woman at the hardware store.

“Been milling around gettin’ some stuff and you’ve been starin’ at that wall’a nails for a while,” He chuckles, stepping forward so he’s next to you, “What d’ya need ‘em for?”

“Oh,” You breathe, he smells good too, woodsy and masculine, “I’m wanting to hang some pictures on my walls.”

He hums in understanding, reaching over to grab a pack of nails that are miles longer than the ones you would have chosen. He holds them out to you, which you take, fingertips brushing against his as you do, “Thanks,” You smile at him, “I would never have chosen these ones.”

“You got everythin’ you need to hang them?” He asks, “Tools and stuff?”

You shrug this time, “I’ve got a hammer, is that going to do it?”

The look in his eyes is akin to what you imagine someone would look like if you’d just kicked a dog in front of them, he shakes his head and reaches into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and then hands you card that he pulls out. You take it, the words ‘Miller Contracting’ and a phone number underneath it.

“Usually, I’m more of a building from scratch guy, but you can’t hammer these nails into a wall, so give me a call and I can come and hang your pictures for you.”

So, you do. Late that evening, you call him, tell him you’ve got the weekend free, and you’d like to get your pictures hung. He comes over, you watch him closely as he hangs them perfectly on your wall. You make him dinner as a thank-you, considering he won’t let you pay him, and then after two beers, you let him fuck you on your couch. It’s not usually your style, but nine months later, it seems to have worked, considering he’s moving you into his house.

Like most things that had to do with your life and Joel, moving in this early had never been planned either. Sarah, his daughter, who you’d met multiple times, had her own life, her own home, and the lease to your apartment in the city was ending early. Something to do with the landlord wanting to completely redecorate. Joel had offered his place to you, which made sense, considering you spent most of your time at his anyway. So, you’d emailed your landlord, told him you’d be out by the end of the month, and were now packing up everything you owned to move into Joel’s place. Start a new life.

“Don’t be embarrassed, baby,” He coos, “Some interesting stuff here.” He muses, reaching over to pick up a copy of one of the more explicit magazines, opening it on a page that’s got the corner folded over, the picture is a woman, bent over on her knees with her hands spreading the cheeks of her ass, an anonymous man pounding his cock into her, a look of ecstasy on her face.

You can’t bare it anymore, so you put the glasses down on chest of drawers and made a beeline to snatch it out of his hand, “Now, hold your horses, baby,” He teases, managing to grab your waist to catch you off balance, pulling you onto his lap where you straddle him, the other hand holding the magazine out of your reach, “What do the folded pages mean?”

You groan, letting your forehead fall onto his shoulder, grumbling incoherently into him in the hopes he drops the subject, but this is Joel, and you should have known better. He pushes his shoulder forward, forcing your head up, “I didn’t quite hear you, baby?”

Dick, is what you think, “They’re things I like,” You mumble, “Think that get me off.”

He turns his head towards the bed with a smirk, “Lots of folded pages, baby,” He teases, Joel lets the magazine in his hand drop to the bed, gripping your waist in both hands, “Don’t need to be shy baby, nothin’ wrong with any of it.”

It’s not really that you’re embarrassed by what’s in the magazines, it’s more the fact that even though you and Joel have an extremely healthy sex life, not one you would necessarily call vanilla, but certainly not kinky, there were things you were scared of asking for. There was a mental list of things you’d read about in the advice columns of Cosmo, pictures you’d seen in the other magazines, that you were dying to try, but how do you bring up to your boyfriend of not even a year, that you want him to bend you over and stuff his cock into your ass?

Joel brings a hand up to your face, cups your cheek and brushes the skin there with his thumb, “Why don’t you show me something you want to try?” He coaxes gently, his brown eyes meeting your own.

Your eyes go wide. You had always been worried of asking for these things, worried it would scare him off, or that he just didn’t want to branch out into anything too kinky, but here he is, offering to help make your fantasies come true, “Go on.” He taps at your sides.

You lean over, grab one of the issues of Cosmo and flick through it to the page with the folded corner right at the back. You pass it to Joel, who takes it, letting his eyes flick to the column of sex advice. He clears his throat and starts reading with you still perched on his lap.

“Dear Angela,” he reads in his Southern drawl, “I’ve been with my fiancé for over five years now. We’re very happy and our wedding is in a year’s time, but I’m struggling to connect with him sexually now. I think the problem is that he’s too nice. Outside of the bedroom, this is wonderful, but do you have any advice on how we might be able to spice things up with our sex life?” He then clears his throat again before launching into ‘Angela’s’ response, “Dear reader, this is something I deal with often. You’re happy with everything but the sex, but don’t lose hope because this is fixable. If you want him to get a little mean with you, nothing says that like denying you the big one, the final ‘O’ if you will. Talk to him, tell him it’s something you want, and have fun!”

You’re looking at his face as he ponders what that means. He’s putting the magazine down on the bed, bringing his hands back to your hips, looking into your eyes, “Am I too nice to you, baby?” He coos, “Need me to be a little mean t’ya?”

His voice flashes straight down to your cunt. You wriggle in his lap, the seam of your jeans rubbing along the bulge that is prominent in his own lap. He holds you still, fingers pressing into your hips, “I don’t think so baby, tryin’ to get yourself off like that.”

You groan a little as he lifts you off his lap, spreads you out on the mattress. You open your legs for him, let him settle his hips between yours, grinding his hips as he presses his mouth to yours. You can feel his chest pressed against your own, the entire weight of him smothering your body, his hands smoothing your hair from your forehead as you open your mouth for him, letting him lick into your mouth, tasting him as your tongue works against his.

You buck your hips up into his own, your hands coming down to slip into the back pockets of his jeans, pulling his hips forward so you’re grinding together through your clothes, something skin to how you used to behave as a horny teenager.

“You feelin’ needy, baby?” He whispers into your ear, teeth nipping at your earlobe as he does.

You don’t want to admit that you are, mainly because you know he’s not going to fix the problem. You’ve asked for him to be mean to you, asked him to do nothing but use you and your body for his own pleasure and leave you wanted more, so you just let out a breathy moan, which makes him chuckle, makes him grind his hips into yours again before he pushes himself back on his knees, dragging you up with him so he can pull your t-shirt off your body.

He pushes you gently back down onto the mattress, drags those big palms of his down your sides until he reaches the waist of your jeans. He pops the button, drags the zipper down and moves his body just enough so he can peel the material down your thighs and off your body, throwing them behind him to be forgotten now. Joel leaves your bra on, but drags your pantie down your legs, pushing your thighs apart so you’re bared to him, no doubt slick and shiny for him.

Joel stands from the bed, drops to his knees and starts pressing warm, wet kissed to the insides of your thighs. Up the left side, down the right, but never right where you want it. He teases you slowly, like he’s got all the time in the world, and in moments like this you’re always in awe of how patient he is, always willing to defer his own gratification in place of getting you off first and, more often than not, multiple times, before he even thinks of sinking himself into you.

His face finally makes its way to settle where you always love having it, right at the apex of your thighs, where you’re already wet with want for him. You can feel his hot breath skittering across your skin so, although you didn’t think it physically possible, you spread your legs wider, showing him your glistening, slick cunt. His fingers press into your thighs as his mouth presses a single, chaste kiss right to your clit. You breathe out in pleasure, letting yourself relax a little as you feel his tongue move slowly through your folds, moving from your entrance where your slick is pooling, just for him, all the way up to your clit. He teases you a little at first, small little kitten licks placed ever-so-gently to your clit. He knows this is what you like, when he takes his time to work you up to the edge. The edge you have to continually remind yourself you’re not going to get the opportunity to push yourself over.

He pulls his mouth off you when you start moving your hips in time to his mouth, his palm pressing down on your belly to keep you still, “This ain’t for you,” He reminds, nipping at the delicate skin of your thighs with his teeth, “Just makin’ sure you can take me.”

He sinks two fingers into you, curling them up just right, your back arching up off the bed to grind up into his palm as he works you open for him. It doesn’t last nearly long enough, much like with his mouth earlier. Normally he’d make you come on his tongue, then sink those fingers into you and make you come again, but he’s pulling them from your pussy, looking you dead in the eye as he presses his fingers onto your tongue. You clamp your mouth around them, licking your slick from his fingers, rolling your tongue over them in the same way you know he loves on his cock, your eyes training directly on his with no shame as you pull off them with a ‘pop’. You giggle slightly, biting at your bottom lip as Joel leans down to kiss you, tasting you on your own mouth, tasting yourself still lingering on his tongue.

“Taste good, don’tcha baby?” He smirks, pushing you back, watching you intently as he strips himself of his clothes.

You don’t think you’ll ever quite get over how beautiful a man he is when he stands in front of you naked. Defined and muscular at his chest, with those big arms that wrap around you, his belly, spattered with hair trailing all the way down until you get to his cock, hard, almost painfully so at this point. His strong thighs that you love to nestle yourself between at night. He is truly a spectacle and it’s moments like this that you still don’t quite believe he’s yours.

He settles back on the bed, between your thighs, your hands grip at those broad shoulders as he reaches between the two of you, fisting the base of his cock, moving his hips slowly so his cock drags through your slick folds, the bulbous head nudging at your clit as he fists himself, spreading your wet along his length. You feel him settle himself at your entrance, pushing his hips forward just enough to give you just the tip. His nose runs along your jawline, kisses from his mouth trailing just behind, as he rocks his hips into your own, but only ever enough that it’s just the tip of his cock inside.

“Beg for it baby,” He breathes into your skin, “You want my cock?”

“Want it so bad, Joel,” You whine, moving your hips into his to try and take him deeper, but he’s gripping your thigh, warning you not to push it, “Please, Joel, please fuck me.”

“Beggin’ for it even though you ain’t gonna come?” He teases, one hand moving up to your chest to pull the cups of your bra down, fingers taking your nipple and rolling.

“Wanna feel you.” You say, burying your head into his neck, pressing your own kisses to his skin.

Joel seems to find that satisfactory, slowly pushing himself all the way into you, dragging himself all the way out again. He leans back a bit, gripping you behind your knees to press your thighs as far into your chest as he can get them. Then he really does fuck you. He’s big, and although you know you can take him, it’s always a shock to you that it’s so easy. That he can pound into you with the ferocity he currently is, tip of his cock brushing against your cervix in that perfect mix of pleasure and pain.

“Awful quiet baby,” He gasps out, watching you bite at your bottom lip, “Don’t like it when you don’t get to feel good?”

You shake your head, Joel dragging himself all the way out of your aching cunt, flipping you over onto your belly. He presses his palm into the back of your neck, keeping your lower half pressed to the bed, whilst his other hand drags you up onto your knees, ass in the air for him as he guides his cock right back to you, thrusting back in all the way. You always loved it when Joel fucked you like this. The angle always managing to feel just perfect as he fucks you.

The only sound in the room is that of your combined moans, little grunts from him and whines from your mouth, and the sound of his hips hitting yours, sweaty skin against sweaty skin. You’re starting to regret asking for this, because God it would be so easy for him to reach round, press his fingers to your clit and tip you over the edge in seconds. If it wasn’t for the way his hand was pressing at the nape of your neck, you could do it yourself, so desperate to feel the euphoria of coming undone around him.

Joel’s thrusts are getting more frantic, even though it’s only been nine months of you together, you know he’s not going to last much longer. He slides his hand down and into the hair on the back of your head, gripping it tightly in his fist to drag your head up and out of the material of the bed. The sounds of yours once muffled by the duvet under you now let loose into the room, echoing around the walls and doing nothing but egging him on, getting him closer to the finish line.

“You like this, huh?” He asks you from behind, “Like getting’ used, baby?”

“Yes Joel,” Because you do, despite knowing you don’t get to finish, something about him being selfish with you, using you just get himself off, makes you unbelievably wet, “Still feels good.”

You can hear him chuckle, fingers of his other hand gripping so hard to your hip that you’re sure he’s going to bruise you there. You don’t mind, not really, you love carrying him around with you like that. Secret marks on your skin, evidence that you’re his that only you know, only you can see, apart from when he bites at your neck, claiming you in front of everyone.

“I’m close baby,” You can hear from behind you, the grip his hand has in your hair arching your back perfectly, angling him just so that if he just carried on like this for a few minutes you think he could make you come just like this, “You want it inside?” He asks, “Want me to fill you up?”

This was new between the two of you, still exciting. After months of using condoms, never once a complaint from Joel, you’d held up the tiny packet of pills, the ones you’d been taking for a week in secret. Asked him to fuck you bare, fill you up with every drop if his cum, and the two of you were struggling to find a way of finishing that you enjoyed more than this.

“Please,” You beg, whimpering as he gives another tug to your hair, pulling you back into him even further, “Please Joel.”

“Ain’t no need for beggin’ now baby,” He groans thickly behind you, “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

You feel his hips slam into the plush of your ass a few more times before he goes still, groaning deep from his chest as you feel the warmth of his cum spread through your cunt. You can feel your own walls fluttering around him, taking his spend as deep as you can whilst trying to catch your breath.

Fuck. You can hear him sucking in ragged breaths from behind you, hands still gripping your hips as he pulls himself from you. You whine at the loss of him, push your hips back trying to coax him into giving you what you want. God, this was such a stupid thing to want. Why would you want Joel to deny you the very thing he’d proved over and over again was the one thing he would give you without question? You’re desperate, and it wouldn’t take much, he’d have you screaming his name in less than a minute.

“Please Joel,” You beg, “Please baby.”

“What’s that?” He asks from behind, you can feel his chest lay across your back, pushing you down into the mattress, his cock still semi-hard against the cheeks of your ass, “You beggin’ for it, baby?”

“Make me come.” You demand, like a little brat.

“Awww baby,” He coos into your ear, hand coming to grip the back of your neck, “I’m such a mean man, aren’t I?” You nod your head, hoping it shakes his resolve, “Leaving you all wet and needy.” His teeth nip at your jaw, he pushes himself off you and then completely off the bed.

You turn onto your back, watching as he picks up his clothes to get dressed. Why did you ask for this? You spread your legs, finger dipping down inside your pussy, dragging out the mix of slick and his spend to drag up to your clit. It wouldn’t take very long, already so worked up and sensitive, but he catches you before you can get there, hands tearing your own away from you.

“Don’t be naughty,” Joel chastises, tugging on your wrist to get you to sit at the edge of the bed, he gets on his knees, loops your panties right over your ankles and drags them up, “Stand up,” You want to complain, but you do it anyway, hands on his shoulders to steady yourself as he drags your panties all the way up, pressing a kiss right where the waistband sits, “Be a good girl for the rest of the day and I promise I’ll make you come however you want later, okay?”

It should embarrass you how quickly you nod your head, how your voice promises him you’ll be good for him. He kisses your forehead, helps you put the rest of your clothes on, passes you the glass of water you’d forgotten about earlier.

“Come on,” He says, “Plenty more boxes to pack up.”

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ellecdc · 1 month

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Hiii, so i got really excited about all the new ships and i wondering if i could request a poly!prongsfoot x female reader where maybe the reader completely matches their energy and its like a college au and the boys bring reader to meet all their friends for the first time and everybody is like�� woah… now theres 3 of them. Just some super energetic cutesy fluff if you dont mind, thank you for considering this i really appreciate it!!! Hope your doing amazing🫶🏻

omg so I saw a post the other day and there's another ship name for Sirius x James = starbucks!! How cute? Thanks for your request and your patience - it took me some time to flush this out (I think any new ships likely will take me longer!)

poly!prongsfoot x fem!reader who's just like them

Remus doesn’t think he’s ever seen his two best friends as excited as they currently were, sitting and waiting (rather impatiently) for your arrival.

Peter, Mary, and Lily were sitting on the booth against the wall, with Remus and Regulus sat together to the right of them, with Sirius and James to their right.

Sirius and James had been talking about this ‘perfect girl’ they met in their psych 101 class last semester, likely since the very day they met you if Remus assumed correctly.

“She’s so pretty, Moons! I’ve never seen eyes as beautiful as hers.”

“She’s so funny! You should have heard her snarking the frat boys behind us in yesterday’s lecture.”

“She’s brilliant! She helped us study and I got 88% on our last exam!”

And now, a whole semester and a half later, they’d finally convinced you to meet their friends.

Lord knows how two of the most hyperactive and mischievous people Remus has ever had the pleasure of knowing managed to trick another person to put up with them voluntarily, but he did really like seeing them so happy and excited in life; both so deserving for different reasons.

James deserved all the love that he so openly and willingly shared with others, and Sirius had worked so hard to become the man he is and deserved to be celebrated for it.

So, if what made them happy was a cute girl from their intro to psychology course? Well, Remus couldn’t argue with them.

“I can’t wait until she gets here; you’re all going to love her.” James declared, shifting closer to Sirius in his excitement who quickly threw his arm over his boyfriend’s shoulders.

“So, don’t embarrass us, alright? We want to keep her around.” Sirius added, placing a chaste kiss to James' shoulder as James practically vibrated in his seat.

“I assure you, Sirius, you do not need our help embarrassing you.” Regulus drawled, not bothering to look up from the drink’s menu in his hand.

“Oi! You take that back!” Sirius barked as he flicked the menu up into Regulus’ face.

Remus had to quickly grip his boyfriend’s shoulder to hold him in his seat as he looked like he was about to crawl over the table to strangle his brother.

“Easy, babe.” Remus commented teasingly, “I doubt Pete, Lily, or Mary will bother calling 999 if you kill him, but their new girl may not be as understanding.”

Sirius harrumphed earning him a conciliatory kiss from James as Pete and the girls just snickered.

Regulus’ muttering was interrupted by a commotion at the door as a group sitting near the entrance cheered at a new arrival.

“Yay! Are you finally joining us for a pub night, Y/N?!” someone shouted, causing both James and Sirius’ head to snap to attention; Remus was sure if they were dogs, their tails would be wagging and their ears would have perked up.

“God no! I wouldn’t dream of it!” You called back teasingly, pulling away from someone who had stood to give you a hug.

“Foul!” The person called back as their friend group laughed.

“Next time!” You promised as you moved through the crowd, face lighting up somehow even brighter when you spotted James and Sirius.

James was up on his feet the second you made eye contact with him and he all but carried you over to the group.

“Hi angel! I’m so glad you could make it!” He cheered at you as he kissed your cheek.

“Of course, Jamie. I was looking forward to it.” You responded as you beamed at Sirius who stood as well to give you a proper hug.

“Hiya, dollface! How was your day?” Sirius asked as he held you to his chest.

“Good! Good, I’m looking forward to a drink, though.” You laughed, shucking your jacket off which James was quick to take from you to hang it on the hook attached to the booth.

“Everyone; this is Y/N! Y/N, that there is our best mate Remus, that’s his boyfriend and less importantly my brother Regulus,” Sirius introduced, causing Regulus to scowl and Remus to chuckle as he consolingly squeezed Regulus’ knee. “And that there is our other best mate Peter, and these beauties here are Lily and Mary.”

You enthusiastically exchanged handshakes with those you could reach and no less enthusiastic waves with those who you couldn’t.

“It’s so nice to meet you all! I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Which is concerning, considering you guys met in class?” Regulus commented, earning him a booming laugh from you.

“I was doing too well in that class anyways; it’s good to keep your GPA well rounded.” You responded in jest, gently nudging a furiously blushing James with your elbow as Sirius beamed at the two of you from your other side.

As the group of you spoke, Remus noticed a number of people coming up to clap James or Sirius on the shoulders who knew them from their classes or various extracurriculars., though that wasn’t all that unusual when attending a pub night near campus. What Remus found to be quite phenomenal was how many people happened to come up to you to do the same.

Remus supposed it made sense for his two social and quite popular friends to find a kindred spirit, but he couldn’t believe that there were three of you who appeared to be so universally liked.

Well, Remus was sure some of Sirius’ notoriety was less from his likeability and more for his flirty nature.

Mary had a lot of fun talking to you about her Instagram feed and your TikTok, which was full of videos of you, Sirius, and James doing trendy dances to various degrees of success.

You were eager to discuss your latest reads with Remus, Regulus, and Lily, and you all laughed at the furious blush that took over Regulus’ face when the three of you started discussing the erotic books you’d enjoyed recently.

“I mean, really; is that appropriate to be discussing in such a public setting?” Regulus had muttered as he looked over his shoulder to ensure other patrons hadn’t heard the scandalous books the three of you had read.

“Oh, don’t be such a prude, Reggie. I’ve seen the love bites you’ve left on my mate; you’re no saint.” Sirius had drawled, causing the blush to migrate all the way down Regulus’ neck.

You even joined in with some of Peter's quick-witted jests at the boys' expense.

In the end, it was the way you fell easily into the friendly banter with the group as if you’d been part of it all along that really won Remus over, had his friends’ lovesick smiles not already thoroughly convinced him of your worth.

“I really like Y/N.” He commented to Regulus as he finished flossing his teeth that night. Regulus scoffed without lifting his head from the book he’d been reading already comfortable in bed.

“You would.”

Remus furrowed his brow as he turned the bathroom light off and climbed into bed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She’s exactly your type.”

Remus barked a laugh and pulled Regulus (quite rudely, if you’d asked Regulus) into his side, forcing him to lay the book flat on the bed lest he lose his place for good.

“I’d argue that’s not the case, seeing as you’re my type.” He murmured into his boyfriend’s neck.

Regulus rolled his eyes though his face betrayed the fondness he felt for Remus. “That’s not what I meant, tosser.”

“What’d you mean then?” He asked, trailing kisses along Regulus’ collarbone.

“I mean she’s bubbly, she’s bold and outgoing, she’s mischievous, and she seemed to put up with the lot of you quite well.”

Remus lifted his head to look at Regulus bemusedly.

“She’s a carbon copy of two of your best friends, she’s basically Sirius and James.” Regulus clarified, looking smug as Remus’ face fell in understand.

“Oh my God...” Remus whispered in horror. “There’s three of them.”

#ask elle #marauders era #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #reader insert #self insert #college au #poly!prongsfoot #poly!prongsfoot x reader #poly!prongsfoot x you #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x sirius black #ellecdc fics

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gyeomsweetgyeom · 3 months

Text

[7:06 pm]

(cw: f!reader)

a/n: here’s our boyyyyyyy!

"Stop looking at me like that, I'm mad at you right now!" You yell at fratboy!Jaehyun.

"Baby, you look so pretty though. I'm admiring you," Jaehyun tells you softly.

In any other situation you would be a puddle on the floor with Jaehyun's affection. Usually his star-dazed look would have you squealing and peppering his face with kisses until you were both out of breath. It was one of your favorite ways he looked at you. He made you feel so loved. He had dug out a full body mirror and set up a little "getting ready" corner for you near the outlet by a window in his room. Yes, it was cute. It was so sweet of him. You had even gushed over it, peppering his face with kisses for a full minute before you sat down and started doing your makeup.

But today, today the puppy dog, heart eyes weren't going to work. The nu chi delta formal was today and Jaehyun had begged you to get ready with him at the frat house. So here you were, on time, thinking you had more than enough time to get ready.

You were busy blending the eye shadows on your eyelid, making sure they were well blended. You still had to do your hair, your base makeup, and get dressed. Thankfully you had an hour left to get ready. An hour to make sure you looked perfect for the frat formal.

A knock came from the door and Johnny's head popped in, "You guys gonna be ready in half an hour?"

The eye shadow brush dropped from your hand to the floor, "half and hour? As in 30 minutes? Three Zero?"

"Yeah we want to get there a little early to make sure everything looks good, but we were going to leave at 7:30 anyway."

You stood up, pacing around the room in a panic, running your hands through your hair, "Jaehyun! You told me 8:15, 8 at the earliest."

"The calendar on the fridge has said 7:30 since we secured the venue. Bro, we definitely need to be on time, we're officers for the frat," Johnny added with his brows furrowed in confusion.

"Baby, I'm sorry. I thought it was 8:30," Jaehyun apologized genuinely with his stupid, puppy dog eyes.

You stopped your pacing, holding your hand up in Jaehyun's direction, "stop talking, ok. I have to finish doing my make up and- oh my god I only have my eyes done and I still have to do my hair!"

You rushed back to the mirror and with shaky hands began to hurriedly doing your make up. Johnny sent Jaehyun a sheepish, apologetic smile while he slipped out. of the room.

You took a deep breath, calming your nerves, "Ok, I have an idea. You can leave without me and I'll Uber there."

Jaehyun's jaw dropped, "No way! I'm not letting my girlfriend show up alone. My girl can't show up alone! I'll help you, tell me how I can help."

"Do you know how to use a straightener?"

Jaehyun replied eagerly, "No, but I'll learn to help you. Just tell me what to do."

You walked him through the steps and soon enough, with slow, precise movements Jaehyun was running the flat iron through your hair.

"Five minutes! Limo's are getting here in five minutes!" Someone called out from the top of the stairs.

"Ok we're done. You did such a good job baby, thank you," you smiled at Jaehyun.

"You still have to get dressed and I need help with my bow tie," Jaehyun reminded you, pulling your dress off the hanger and handing it to you.

He helped you with the zipper on the back and helped clasp the straps on your heels. While you tied his bow tie he even spritzed you with perfume.

You both made your way down the stairs and out of the house, almost out of breath.

"Looking goo everybody. Now remember, I want everyone on their best behavior tonight. This is not a house party, it's a frat formal. Please behave yourselves or face the consequences," Taeyong told everyone as they stood on the lawn.

"Consequences being, sober men at the next party, bathroom clean up crew, and chefs for a week," Johnny added with a deviously sweet smile.

You moved to join the other officers and seniors in the "exclusive" limo, Jaehyun grabbed your arm gently, "just a second baby."

He stood in front of you and with gentle movements reached toward your eye with with pointer finger and thumb, "let me fix your eyelash for you."

His warm breath fanned over your face as he helped you fix your false eyelashes. He pulled away assessing his work before giving you a nod and a smile, "done. You look beautiful, baby."

Your face warmed at his compliment, "Thank you, love."

He leaned in slowly, pressing a short but lingering kiss to your lips so as to not mess up he make up he watched you stress over.

"No way! No! What part of best behavior do you not understand Jaehyun?! Get in the limo and don't let me catch that happen again or Taeyong is going to have to drag my fighting body out of the venue," Haechan screamed angrily from the sun roof in the second limo, an accusatory finger pointed at Jaehyun. His gaze softened as he turned to look at you, "You, you look gorgeous. Seriously, we are not worthy of being in your presence. When- and I really mean when, you get tired of that himbo, I'll be wai-"

His body went down quickly, like he was pulled down while someone yelled, "Sorry about him!"

Jaehyun rolled his eyes with a chuckle, a hand on the small of your back to guide you into the limousine, "Let's go, baby."

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #nct #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct timestamps #nct x reader #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun drabbles #fratboy!jaehyun #frat!jaehyun #frat!nct

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ginnsbaker · 6 months

Text

In Silent Screams (1/3)

Chapter word count: 10.3k+ Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Vision Tags: Mentions of Smut (F/M), Cheating, Angst, Gaslighting

Notes: This will follow the events of IFISS (not strictly) but in Wanda's POV. Check the tags, you've been warned. This is not rated M, but feel free to skip parts you feel uncomfortable with.

Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Part I

It’s all happening very fast and she’s hardly keeping pace.

You and Wanda have cleared the apartment you've shared for over five years. The boxes are loaded onto the moving truck, while more personal items are safely packed away in the trunk and rear seats. You're in the building's administrative office, addressing the bills and finalizing other necessities before the move, while Wanda waits for you, sitting on the floor in the middle of what used to be the living room.

Sparky darts around the room, the vastness of the deserted space giving him room to play. Every so often, he looks up at Wanda, his tail wagging, perhaps sensing the change that's about to come. Wanda's gaze follows the little dog, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, grateful for his company.

Every corner of this apartment held a memory—from the faded mark on the kitchen wall where Wanda accidentally spilled red wine, to the tiny dent on the living room floor, after Sparky ran into it during a rough playtime with you. Packing up wasn’t just about boxing items; it felt like carefully wrapping up fragments of time, every piece a memory filed away, never to be recovered ever again.

Though the accumulation of belongings over the years had made the space feel a tad cramped, and a move to a larger place seemed the logical next step, Wanda was deeply nostalgic about leaving behind this chapter. It marked the end of an era for you both—the days of being a young, hopeful couple in love. But at the same time, Wanda also held onto the hope that maybe starting anew somewhere would be good, especially since the past few months have been rocky, with her failed attempts to get pregnant and her stagnant career. Maybe a fresh environment would ease some of that pain, she thought.

The trail leading up to this new chapter, however, is characterized by your increasing hours at the office, overshadowing the time spent at the apartment. Yet, it's this very commitment that led to your promotion just two weeks ago, sparking the unexpected decision to move to an unfamiliar town in New Jersey.

As the reality of the situation sinks in, Wanda feels as if life is moving at an almost dizzying pace. Everything is changing so quickly: your recent promotion, the emotional roller-coaster of trying for a baby, and now the looming move. It’s been more than a lot to take in.

Your footsteps, a soft thud against the wooden floor, break the quiet, drawing Wanda from her deep thoughts.

“Ready to go?”

She turns towards you, her eyes slightly misty, and whispers, “Just one more minute.”

Understanding her need to linger, you cross the room and lower yourself beside her. “Are you okay?” you ask.

Nodding, she takes a deep breath, as if trying to inhale every memory, every scent of the place she's called home for so long. “Yeah. I just need a moment to say goodbye.”

Gently, you squeeze her shoulder, drawing her gaze to meet yours. “You know, it's not really goodbye,” you murmur, trying to reassure her. “Scott promised it’s temporary, so there's a good chance we could be back here in Manhattan.”

Wanda turns to face you, her eyes searching yours for any hint that you're merely telling her what she wants to hear. You consistently strive to make her happy, aiming to shield her from distress. It's a trait she adores about you, though it can slightly irritate her at times. But right now—

“You really think we might come back?” she asks.

You nod firmly. “Absolutely. Manhattan is where we built so many of our memories, and it will always be a part of us. Westview is just a chapter, not the whole story.”

—right now she appreciates your ability to ground her with your words.

She laughs a bit, dabbing at her eyes. “God, I've fallen so hard for this place.”

“Me too,” you say, giving in to the urge to kiss her forehead. After all these years, and despite being married for a while, you still constantly seek reasons to be near her, to touch her. “But wherever we’ll go, we’ll make it our own.”

Wanda decides to christen the first day in your new home by making love on the living room floor, and you're as eager to indulge her. It's short and sweet, straightforward in its intensity. You’re both already attuned to each other's bodies, and she knows precisely where to touch, how to curl her fingers to draw out those soft, sultry moans she always finds so enticing.

The shadows created by the fire dance across the walls, mirroring the boxes scattered all around, each labeled and awaiting their turn to be unpacked and settled into this new space. Wanda absentmindedly rakes her fingers through your hair, your head cushioned on her warm, pillowy chest as you sleepily hum a song. Every scratch sends tingles down your spine, adding to the lethargy pulling at your eyelids.

“'Fade Into You' by Mazzy Star,” Wanda says softly, recognizing the tune.

You give a soft, drowsy chuckle. “You always know. Remember that tiny café near your dorm? They played it on a loop. It was drizzling outside, and we had that ridiculously oversized shared umbrella.”

Wanda smiles at the memory. “How could I forget? We sat there for hours, sipping on our lattes and listening to that song. And we weren’t even together then.”

Drawing a deep breath, you let out a contented sigh, murmuring, “Yeah, but I was already so deeply in love with you then.”

Wanda scrunches her nose and smirks, teasingly retorting, “That's really cheesy.”

You grin, nuzzling further into her, feeling her heart's rhythmic beat beneath your ear. “Doesn't make it any less true,” you whisper.

Wanda would later reflect on this memory, wishing she had held onto it more tightly, especially since it marked the true beginning of something withering inside of her.

Westview isn't quite the place Wanda envisioned. Instead of offering an escape from the unresolved threads of both your lives, it feels more like trading one cage for another. The town pulses with its own set of peculiarities, a rhythm and routine foreign to her. She's ambivalent about it. Sees it only as a brief interlude, a temporary concession she's making to support your career endeavors.

The demands of your job appear to be greater than either of you anticipated. As she's finishing up the first dish she's prepared for the evening, you call her midday to say you won't be home for dinner.

It's not the first or even the third instance. She refrains from keeping tally because she doesn't want to be that kind of wife. However, she's certain it's happened more than just a few times. Wanda tries to hide the disappointment from her voice, assuring you it's fine and that she understands. But as she hangs up the phone, a sensation that's become all too familiar washes over her.

She finds herself drifting towards the window, gazing out at the street below, lost in thought. She's never been one to demand all of your time, but this—it's the first time she's felt so small and insignificant. Aside from that first day when you both made love on every possible surface, there hasn't been a moment recently where you've shown interest in being that adventurous again. You both promised never to become that type of couple. Yet now, she's tormented by the thought: maybe you no longer find her as attractive as you used to, or perhaps you've come to realize some latent disappointment in her.

But everytime you come back in the quiet of the night, pulling her close, kissing her neck, and nestling into her hair, you dispel all her doubts. Wanda's only learning now how exhausting and powerless it could feel to need someone this much.

One particular night, mirroring the many late evenings before, you arrive home to find Wanda watching television in the living room. Both of you are thrilled to see each other awake, rather than just you returning to a warm, sleeping body next to your (cold) side of the bed.

Wanda's hair is slightly tousled, eyes glazed from the weariness of the day, but they light up when they meet yours. The corners of her lips curl into a small, sluggish smile. “You're home,” she murmurs, her voice tinged with a mixture of relief and longing.

You shed your coat, moving towards the couch and sitting down beside her. “I missed you,” you admit, running a gentle hand through her hair.

She leans into your touch, her body molding against yours. “I've been trying to stay awake lately, just hoping I might get to see you before drifting off,” Wanda says. “Tell me about your day.”

You take a deep breath, trying to process the day's events. “Same old, same old,” you say, putting your head on her shoulder. “Tight deadlines. And you won't believe this, but Janet, my secretary, she's going on maternal leave sooner than expected. So the office... well, they decided to throw something together last minute.”

She sits up a bit. “So you weren't held up because of work, but because of a party?”

“Uh, yeah. I think I mentioned it in my text?”

“I didn't get any message about…” Wanda trails off, taking a moment to steady herself. You’ve barely seen each other in the past week. The last thing she wants is to lash out on you.

But instead of noticing her distress and apologizing, or recognizing how your consecutive absences have affected her, you're fixated on pulling out your phone, scrolling through your messages, to… what? To prove to her that you mentioned it in your text?

“I sent you a text. I swear, I mentioned it,” you mumble. After a few more seconds, you let out a sigh of exasperation, showing her the screen where the message lays unsent. “The message failed to send... I thought you knew.”

Wanda looks at the screen and then back at you, her gaze softening slightly. “It happens,” she says with a soft smile.

“I'm sorry, Wanda,” you admit, placing the phone down. “Yes, it was a gathering, and I should've double-checked or called.”

She shakes her head, her fingers brushing against your cheek, just happy to be touching you. “I’m not mad. I just miss you, that's all.”

You take her hand in yours, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. “I miss you too. So bad.”

Wanda shifts slightly, trying to get more comfortable in the embrace. “Did you have fun, at least?” she asks.

“Yeah,” you reply with an enthusiastic nod. “It was great catching up with everyone, especially Janet. Did you know she only got married a year ago? And they're already expecting. It's amazing how quickly things happen for some people.”

Wanda's expression, which had been soft and open, changes almost imperceptibly. The brightness in her eyes dims a little, and there's a slight tensing of her lips, a subtle sign of the pain you unknowingly inflicted. You love her, yet at times you unintentionally wound her deeply without even realizing it. Wanda doesn't know how that can be, but in this moment, it feels truer than ever.

“She's really excited,” you continue, oblivious to the change in your wife’s demeanor. “They weren't even really trying. It just... happened. I'm happy for her, genuinely.”

Wanda nods, swallowing hard. “That's... that's great for them,” she says, forcing a smile. She withdraws from your hold, rising from the couch. “I’m gonna go to bed.”

This time, you notice the hardened look in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“It's nothing,” she replies with a faint, unconvincing smile. “Just tired.”

“Wanda—”

“Good night.”

You hold back, not pushing her for answers. She stops briefly at the base of the stairs, shoulders drooping. Then, with a heavy sigh, she slowly makes her way up, each step looking like it takes more effort than the last.

The computer screen shines a relentless blue glow onto her face.

As the weeks pass, she sees fewer and fewer unread emails, fewer blinking notifications. The heart of the art world has always thrummed with in-person interactions, art deals solidified by firm handshakes, cocktail parties filled with patrons looking to be swayed by a charismatic gallery curator, and the intimate closeness that comes from viewing a painting together and discussing its merits. Video calls, as efficient as they are, don't capture the nuance of human emotion and instinct in the same way.

Sometimes she dreams of being back in the thick of it all, surrounded by masterpieces and dizzying energy. Westview, however, is quaint, almost eerily so. It has its charms, its local coffee shops and small art scenes, but it's a far cry from the scenes of the big city.

She feels her importance at the gallery dwindling. She can't fault them; many of the responsibilities demand her physical presence. Currently, she can only manage to send crucial emails and direct calls and messages from essential patrons, sponsors, and others integral to the gallery's ecosystem. Her power of persuasion doesn't translate as effectively one email at a time.

Wanda has always enjoyed playing to her strengths, particularly when meeting artists in person, where she can swiftly adapt her tactics based on the reactions of her audience, all while maintaining her self-assured demeanor, knowing that she carries a natural charm. However, being stuck in this town has taken that from her.

Feeling the stirrings of frustration rise in her gut, Wanda steps away from the table and retrieves her cellphone. She stares at it like it’s her salvation, contemplating whether to make the call. She needs someone to talk to, someone who knows her, someone who won't judge.

She dials Agatha's number.

The phone rings a few times before a familiar voice, which once irked her but now only deepens her homesickness, answers.

“Wanda, dear! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Wanda tries to muster her energy to match Agatha's, but a hint of her distress manages to seep through. “Hi, I'm—I'm doing well. How about you?”

“Great,” Agatha replies cheerfully, but then her voice drops, “What's troubling you?”

“Nothing,” Wanda tells her quickly. A soft “hm” emanates from Agatha's end, followed by a silence that feels hefty, but not oppressive. It's the kind of silence that invites confession, though with a gossip-driven curiosity.

“It's this place,” Wanda starts, “It's not what I expected. I thought being here would give me space to breathe, a fresh start, but instead, I feel... trapped. Isn't it ironic? I have all this open space around me, but I feel more confined than ever.”

Agatha sighs, a knowing lilt in her voice. “Look, we've been in this rat race long enough. New city, new job, new whatever—it's all the same cycle, just different packaging. Maybe this detachment you're feeling? It's a cue. A chance to rethink... everything.”

Wanda arches an eyebrow, though Agatha can't see it. “What are you saying?” Sparky trots towards her, mewling. Wanda briefly flashes him a smile before scratching him behind his ears.

Agatha's voice grows sharper, more incisive. “I’m saying that maybe you haven’t really given your new town a chance because you’re holding on tightly on a rope to the past. I'm saying maybe the gallery, as much as it's been your lifeline, is now your anchor. Dragging you down. Ever thought of cutting the cord?”

Wanda's heart races. “You mean quit? Just like that?”

A snort from Agatha. “Why not? What's it giving you right now? A title? Perks? Or just a nostalgia trip and a daily reminder of what used to be?”

Wanda is silent, grappling with the blunt reality Agatha’s laying out. The realization that maybe she's clinging to a past that doesn't fit her present is daunting.

“Look, Wanda,” Agatha continues, softer now, “it's just business. The gallery won't sink without you, and maybe you'll find a version of yourself you didn't know existed without it. Westview’s a new board. Play it.”

The house is enormous for two people and a small dog. The vastness of the space should thrill her, yet it amplifies her loneliness. Your early departures and late returns leave her lingering in the expanse, waiting for life to unfold. The sparkling countertops, the polished floors—she's cleaned them over twice this week, a feeble attempt to occupy her time, to feel some semblance of accomplishment.

But what's the point when, at the end of it all, it feels like nothing?

Wanda's eyes flutter open as she hears the familiar, albeit late, sound of the front door clicking shut. Recently, her sleep has been light, so even your softest footfalls register in her consciousness. She remains still, her back turned to the bedroom door, her breathing deliberate and even. The sounds of shuffling reach her ears: the rustle of clothes, a muted sigh, the faint creak of a floorboard.

The bed shifts, dips, as you ease yourself beside her. The silence stretches, becoming palpable, thick. And then, a whisper, soft and low, bathed in regret. “Wanda?”

She doesn’t respond, biting back the words she wants to unleash, the lack of purpose and direction she feels these days. The longing in her eyes, if you could see it, would tear right through you.

It's been five nights in a row. Five nights of cool sheets and colder silences.

Moments later, she feels you trace your fingers over the bare curve of her arm. “I'm sorry,” you whisper, every word dripping with the weariness of corporate warfare and personal neglect. “Missed you. Like you wouldn't believe.”

You press a tender kiss to her hair and Wanda holds her breath. “I promise, I'll make it right,” you say, your voice a mere breath against her ear. “We'll find our way back. I just... I need a bit more time.” Nestled against her, the familiar contours of her body will always be your home, and soon the demands of the past days pull you into a deep slumber.

Yet, for Wanda, sleep remains out of reach. Despite your assurances, a gnawing uncertainty has taken root in her heart. She craves your company, but she also harbors a growing resentment that she’s been trying to deny ever since she set foot in this forsaken town.

Not for the first time this year, Wanda wonders if you can really love someone deeply and yet blame them for the things in your life that make you unhappy.

The rain pelts down on Westview’s streets, the usually quiet lanes now slick with water and glistening under the sporadic streetlights. Wanda’s pace quickens, her umbrella slipping from her loose grip when an unforeseen splash from a passing car leaves her utterly soaked.

“Hey!” she shouts out, more from shock than anger. But the car drives on, indifferent to the trail of mess it's left behind. She's in the process of assessing the damage—wet strands of hair plastering to her face and her shirt now ruined – when he appears. A young man with strikingly bleached hair, seeming unaffected by the god-awful weather.

“You look like you're having a day,” he remarks, his voice carrying an amused lilt. With a confident stride, he approaches her. He’s tall—almost a foot taller than her. “Here, this might help,” he says, already moving to the trunk of his parked car nearby.

She watches him, curious and a tad skeptical. It's not every day a stranger offers assistance, especially in pouring rain. But this one is already producing a neatly folded tee from the trunk. “I hit the gym quite a bit. Always have a spare,” he explains, flashing a grin.

Wanda hesitates, her gaze shifting from the shirt to him and back. Up close, he appears younger than she initially perceived. “Thanks,” she murmurs, accepting the shirt. There's an odd sincerity in his eyes that makes her trust him, if only for this fleeting moment.

“How about a drink? To warm you up. And perhaps, as a small token of thanks for letting me play the good samaritan today,” he says. She arches an eyebrow, surprised by his boldness. Most people would've stopped at the shirt. Had this conversation taken place in Manhattan, Wanda would have already left with a sharp remark about his bold attempt to engage her in conversation. But here and now, she can't quite pinpoint why she hasn't brushed him off as she usually would have by this point.

Despite her initial reluctance, she finds herself smiling. You're the only person she's spoken to since arriving in Westview. She's so starved for a bit of normalcy that maybe a chat with a stranger might do the trick. After all, he's just a kid. She could regard him as a nephew or something similar.

“Alright,” she concedes, “just one drink.”

Within the first minute, Wanda learns his name: Victor Shade. However, he prefers the nickname ‘Vision’, which Wanda finds a tad whimsical. They find a cozy booth in a tucked-away corner, shielding them from potential prying eyes passing by the restaurant. While Wanda didn't plan to keep their meeting a secret, Vision naturally guided her to the more discreet spot.

“So, Wanda,” Vision begins, taking a sip of his drink, “What brought you to town? It doesn't seem like the most obvious choice for someone like you.”

Wanda looks at him, intrigued. “Someone like me? What does that mean?”

He chuckles, “Well, from our short interaction, you seem like someone who's seen bigger cities, more happening places. Westview is... charming, but quiet.”

“Same could be said about you. You don't exactly scream 'small town boy' either,” Wanda says.

Vision's eyebrows rise playfully, feigning offense. “Oh? And why is that?”

“Your confidence,” she retorts with a smirk. “It's loud, almost deafening. It echoes big city vibes.”

He laughs, nodding in concession. “Touche.”

As their conversation progresses, Wanda begins to see him less as a kid and more as a well-read, intriguing individual, particularly when Vision reveals he's an art major, his eyes lighting up as he talks about his passion for Renaissance art and postmodernism.“I graduated with a degree in art,” she shares, her own memories of university flooding back. She recounts stories of late-night classes and the exhilaration of her first gallery show. They bond over favorite artists and art movements, finding shared preferences and amusing disagreements. It's a pleasant surprise for Wanda to discover that, out of all the people in Westview, the first one she genuinely converses with is someone with whom she shares so much in common.

Yet, as she's engaging with Vision, a tiny voice at the back of her mind keeps drawing comparisons between him and you. The way you and Wanda communicate is so fundamentally different. You lean heavily on the left, analytical and logical in your thinking. Your conversations with Wanda often revolve around structured debates, dissecting topics with precision and care, always seeking the root cause or solution. Wanda, on the other hand, leans more to the right, driven by creativity and emotion. She loves diving into abstract concepts, weaving narratives and ideas with passion.

You and Wanda did find common interests and topics that you both enjoy. Over the years, you've had countless meaningful moments where you both found yourselves talking for hours on end. But the rapport she's building with Vision is something she hasn't felt in a long while, or perhaps ever, even with you. It's not necessarily better or worse; it's just different, and it takes her by surprise.

At one point, Vision’s gaze falls upon the glint of Wanda's wedding ring, reflecting the ambient light of the restaurant. “You're married,” he observes, not as a question but a statement.

Wanda hesitates for a moment, then nods. “Yes, I am.”

Vision looks at her, searching for something in her eyes. “Does he know you're out with a stranger?”

“She,” Wanda corrects instinctively, her cheeks warming as she notices his eyes sparkle with heightened interest, then she adds, “She probably wouldn't mind. We trust each other. Besides, it's just a drink with a friend, right?”

He smiles, raising his glass. “To friendship.”

For the first time, she arrives home later than you that night. Wanda finds you in the living room, curled up on the couch, a remote in hand, and an empty wine glass on the table beside you.

As the door clicks shut, you turn, and your eyes clouded with surprise as you meet hers. “Hey,” you murmur, the TV's remote paused mid-air, “Wasn't expecting you this late.”

Wanda shrugs, unsure of how to convey the unexpected turn her day had taken. She hangs her coat and moves towards the living room, her shoes making soft tapping noises against the wooden floor. “Ran into someone... from college,” she half-lies, the omission of Vision's identity a deliberate choice. Not out of guilt, but more a protective instinct to keep the evening's serendipitous meeting to herself.

“Oh? How was that?”

“It was... nice. Different,” Wanda replies, picking her words with care. She can sense your gaze on her, trying to piece together the puzzle, and she quickly adds, “We just grabbed a drink, caught up. You know how it is.”

You nod slowly, the lines of your face softening. “Good. You needed that. This move... it's been hard on you.” The acknowledgment feels like a balm, and Wanda gives you a small, appreciative smile. She’s about to head upstairs when your voice stops her in her tracks.

“That's a... unique shirt you've got there,” you comment. She turns around slowly to face you and sees a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth.

Wanda glances down at the shirt she's wearing, an admittedly garish tee that's far from her usual style. “Some idiot in a car decided I looked better drenched,” she explains, rolling her eyes. “This was the only option the nearby store had.”

It's her third lie of the evening, and Wanda can't explain why she keeps doing it.

“Well, I've got to say, it's a look. You're absolutely killing it,” you tease, a bit sarcastically.

Wanda snorts, the tightness in her chest loosening a little. “Oh, shut it.” She can't help but smile. “You're one to talk. Remember that hideous Christmas sweater you insisted on wearing last year?”

Ah, a challenge. You rise from your spot on the couch, taking a deliberate step towards her. “That was festive. This is... rebellious?” you guess, tracing a finger in the air around the outlines of her new shirt. “You pulling a midlife crisis on me, Mrs. Maximoff?”

She blushes, but whether from the memory of the car incident or your close proximity, it's hard to tell. “It's just a shirt,” she retorts, but her voice cracks and the light in her eyes betrays her amusement.

Your fingers itch to brush against the fabric of her shirt, to maybe pull her closer. “You know,” you murmur, voice low, “you could make even a potato sack look sexy.”

Wanda bites her lower lip, her breath catching just slightly. She revels in the banter, the space between yourselves shrinking with every heartbeat. She finds herself lost in the pull, but a gnawing unease lingers, making her wary. Just then, Sparky comes out of nowhere, sprinting and eventually running into Wanda’s leg. His tail wags a mile a minute, pleading for Wanda to shower him with affection. Grateful for the interruption, Wanda quickly shifts her attention, bending down to indulge the spirited pup. “Missed me, did you, Sparks?”

You try to mask your disappointment, but the subtle change in your expression isn't lost on her, even as she pointedly looks away.

Nights following her meeting with Vision find Wanda restless. It isn’t necessarily Vision himself that haunts her thoughts, but rather their impassioned discussion on art (and just about anything). She realizes, with a sharp pang, how deeply she misses the world that served as her refuge for years when she sought to escape her own reality.

With a renewed sense of purpose, she heads to Westview Institute of Arts and Sciences, seeking a place where her passion and expertise could be valuable.

Hours later, she gets an email inviting her for an interview with the dean. Apparently, the school has been looking for an assistant professor for the past several months now.

A week later, they offer her the position, and she talks to you about it shortly after sending them the signed letter of acceptance.

Her first day at the school is all kinds of awkward, likely more so than her first day as a student years ago. The university building looks massive for being in such a remote, out-of-the-way town. All around, there's a crowd of young students bustling about, their laughter and conversations filling the crisp, morning air.

Among them, Wanda stands, momentarily frozen—an outsider looking in. She wears a chic black ensemble: slacks, a blazer, and a turtleneck, hoping to conceal the anxiety that's making it difficult for her to keep her breakfast down. However, as she's introduced to a few of the other professors, her resolve wavers. They're in more casual attire, and she can't help but feel a tad overdressed, sticking out like a meticulously painted stroke on an empty canvas.

She doesn't get to meet her students immediately. Instead, her day is consumed by orientation processes, faculty meetings, and an extensive tour of the sprawling campus. Every time she turns a corner or meets someone new, a mix of excitement and jitters rushes through her. The enormity of the responsibility she's shouldering, coupled with the fact that she's never taught anyone before (not even tutored)—it's both intimidating and thrilling all at once.

It's been a while since she's felt this alive, apart from the rare times when you're home on time, or when she gets to spend an entire day with you. But this? This is the first time in ages that something beyond the comfort of your love has rekindled a spark in her, reminding Wanda of a part of herself she had almost forgotten.

At the end of her first day, Wanda does meet one of her students.

Technically, she has met him before, but it was in the context of a friendly stranger who lent her his shirt when she needed it the most. When Vision told her that he was an art student, she didn't actually expect to find him attending the same university. She had assumed he was from the city and just passing through.

(Perhaps it’s her silliest assumption she's made to date but—it is what it is.)

“Aren't you a pleasant surprise,” Vision says, rolling down the window of his Mustang. When his voice reaches her, it's distinctly out of place, an unexpected ripple in her carefully mapped out day.

She swallows hard, resisting the urge to take a step back, “Vision, I wasn't expecting to see you here.”

He grins, the sunlight catching the edges of his aviator glasses. “It's a small world, or rather, a small university.” He tilts his head playfully, “Wait... are you...?”

Wanda cuts him off, “Let's just say, I'm exploring my options here.”

A pause ensues, both understanding the unsaid implications.

“You know,” Vision starts, leaning against his car, “I'd heard there was a new, 'exceptionally dressed' professor in town. Just didn't piece it together that it would be you.”

“It's a small world,” she murmurs, her face a shade paler.

He seems to sense her discomfort and remarks, “I suppose this changes everything.”

Wanda sighs, “It's just... I need to maintain a certain decorum here. It would be inappropriate if—”

“—If I turned out to be one of your students,” he finishes for her. His smirk is replaced by a milder expression. “Don't worry. Whatever our relationship outside this campus, I respect boundaries. And I expect you do too.”

She nods, appreciative of his maturity. “Thank you, Vision.”

Before she can fully turn away, Vision snaps his fingers together. “Oh, by the way, you left something with me from last time. Your shirt? The shirt you had to change out of?”

Wanda's face reddens slightly at the memory. “I completely forgot about that. Do you have it?”

Vision points with a thumb over his shoulder towards his car. “Wait a second. It's in the back.” He moves to retrieve the shirt, but after rummaging for a few moments, he frowns. “I could have sworn I left it here…”

He removes his sunglasses, allowing his gaze to lift in thought, revealing the unnaturally vibrant blue of his eyes to Wanda. “Ah, I remember now. It's in my laundry bag, which I took to my apartment.”

“It's fine. You can give it back another time,” Wanda says.

But Vision, with that same gleam in his eyes, counters, “Why not just come with me and get it now? It's a short drive.”

She bites her lip, thinking. On one hand, she'd rather not prolong their interaction given the new dynamics. On the other, it might be best to just get it over with. “I'm not sure…”

He raises his hands in mock surrender. “I promise it's just a shirt, Professor.”

The inclusion of the title almost brings a smile to her face. “Alright,” Wanda gives in, “But only if it’s quick. And remember, as far as the university is concerned, we’re merely acquaintances.”

“Technically, you haven’t met your class yet. And as of now, I’m not your student,” he points out with an innocent shrug.

The logic is sound, though it does little to quell the anxiety bubbling within Wanda. She nods, exhaling deeply. “Let’s go.”

They drive to Vision’s apartment building, the journey marked by fleeting glances and a silence that's not entirely comfortable. He attempts to dispel the tension, “I've washed and ironed the shirt for you. Hope that's alright.”

She looks over, surprised by the gesture. “Thank you, that's... unexpected.”

As she sits in the passenger seat of Vision’s car, Wanda inadvertently starts picking up on the small details surrounding her. She notices the immaculate interior of the car—not a stray piece of litter, every surface gleaming. There's a fresh, clean scent permeating the space, a subtle hint of citrus perhaps. It's not the typical aroma one would expect from a college student's car. She thinks of the younger people she's known and how their vehicles often doubled as chaotic storage spaces, littered with discarded clothes, takeaway containers, and the musty scent of overdue laundry.

When they arrive at his apartment, it further exemplifies this meticulousness. Sketches, paintings, and art supplies are neatly arranged, yet the area feels lived-in, warm, not sterile. It's easy to forget he's just 21. He exudes an aura of maturity that doesn’t align with his years. If they had met under different circumstances, and if she hadn’t known his age, she would have pegged him for someone much older, someone who's seen more, experienced more.

“Your shirt,” Vision says, pulling it out from a cupboard—neatly folded, rather than from the laundry bag he remembered earlier. “As promised.”

As Wanda accepts it, her fingers brush against a freshly painted canvas. The vibrant colors smear slightly under her touch.

“Oh! I'm so sorry,” she exclaims, pulling her hand back.

Vision waves it off, “No worries. Sometimes accidents lead to the best kind of art.”

He then looks contemplative for a moment before posing a question, “You know, Picasso once said, 'Every act of creation is first an act of destruction.' What do you think of that?”

The randomness of it throws her off for a second, before she regards him with a thoughtful look. “Well, in a way, creation and destruction aren't opposing forces. One can be a precursor to the other. To create something new, often something old has to give way.”

Vision's eyes light up, clearly pleased by her response. “Exactly! It's like when you're sketching. Sometimes, you have to erase an entire section just to rework it. And often, the second attempt is much better than the first.”

They continue discussing, each statement leading to another topic, and another. After a while, Vision hesitates before making a bold request, “Wanda, would you... would you mind if I sketched you? Just for practice. You have such unique features, and it'd be a challenge for me.”

“Trying to butter up your professor already?” It comes out a bit flirtatious by accident, and Wanda struggles to retract it.

He nods, a little sheepishly. “Only if you're comfortable. It’s just... our discussion has inspired me.”

Wanda laughs lightly, unable to deny that the notion does flatter her.. “Alright, but only for a bit. I'm not exactly dressed for a portrait.”

“You are…” Vision murmurs almost too quietly to hear, his eyes already fixed on his sketchpad. But Wanda still catches it, and a faint blush tints her cheeks. Vision gets to work. In this moment, she's both his muse and his critic, and for a brief while, a hushed silence envelops the room.

However, as the minutes tick by, Wanda begins to feel increasingly restless beneath his studious, penetrating gaze. She tries to keep her posture, attempting to appear at ease, but her muscles gradually tighten in response to his intent focus. There’s a kind of intimacy in being observed so closely that she wasn’t quite prepared for.

“Can you tilt your head just a bit to the left?” he asks, never lifting his gaze from the page. She obliges. Moments later, “A little to the right now, and chin up. Perfect.”

Wanda obeys, adjusting her position to his liking. But it's a stray strand of hair that falls onto her forehead that really tests her composure. Vision notices it immediately. “Could you brush that hair away, please?” he asks.

She reaches up, trying to tuck it behind her ear, but it stubbornly returns to its original position. Frowning in mild irritation, she tries again but with the same result.

Vision chuckles softly. “Stay still,” he murmurs, placing his sketchpad to the side. He carefully rises from his seat and approaches her, eyes never leaving her face. “I'll fix it.”

Heart inexplicably racing, Wanda can't comprehend why she obeys so willingly, remaining motionless as Vision's fingertips ghost near her face. The distance between them becomes almost negligible as his face hovers mere inches from hers. She can feel the warmth of his breath, see the earnest concentration in his eyes. Slowly, ever so gently, his fingers brush the errant strand away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “There we go,” Vision whispers.

But instead of retreating, he lingers. She watches as Vision's eyes flutter closed, and he begins to lean in. She's teetering at the precipice of something that can't be taken back, and she’s horrified to discover a part of her that wants to give in.

Shaking herself out of the trance, she manages to whisper with a tremble in her voice, “I... I have to go.” Her words cut through the moment like a knife, yet Vision remains close, eyes searching hers as he softly challenges, “Are you sure?”

That simple question, laden with suggestion, irks Wanda. This was more than just an innocent sketching session. Irritation builds as she understands what he might have been attempting. In her haste to distance herself, she stands abruptly, accidentally brushing his face with her head. She doesn't apologize, too focused on gathering her belongings.

Vision, realizing his mistake, scrambles to his feet, “Wanda, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—”

But she cuts him off, hand already on the door handle. “I'll see you in class, Mr. Shade.”

Wanda doesn't know how you managed to convince her to shower together one morning.

To be fair, you didn't make much of an effort to persuade her, and she was more than willing to participate. Perhaps it's because life has been an unending whirlwind lately, a blur of responsibilities and ever-mounting pressure. Her fresh endeavor into academia had consumed much of her waking hours, leaving her mentally drained by the end of the day. You, on the other hand, seemed perpetually buried under a mountain of paperwork and late-night calls.

It's not an excuse, of course, but these realities have inadvertently wedged a distance between the two of you. So, on that fateful morning, when you followed her into the bathroom, you were a woman on a mission. But as you wordlessly entered the shower, a certain determination evident in your stride, Wanda felt the need to object. Her protest, however, was cut short. The feel of your lips on hers, possessive and demanding, effectively silenced her. Her knees threatened to give way, and if not for the firm grip you had on her waist, she might have collapsed. Instead, she melted into your arms, letting you take the lead, and well—

That resulted in her losing nearly half of her students for her first class of the day because they believed she wouldn't show up after being nearly twenty minutes late.

“That can’t happen again,” Wanda told you.

“Whatever you say, babe.”

It occurs a few more times before she intentionally begins waking up before your alarm goes off. Wanda misses her wife, but she misses the life you both left behind even more. And despite finding satisfaction in her new career, she can’t seem to stop resenting you for that.

Her period is a week late, but Wanda isn't worried. You both stopped trying to conceive before coming to New Jersey. However, it does remind her of something else she had to let go of and how it felt like you gave up on her too easily for comfort.

The stress from her new job eventually begins to take a toll on her. Stacks of papers sprawl across the table, some marked with red ink, others waiting to be perused. Her hand moves methodically, adjusting her notes, reviewing her questions, ensuring every detail is in place for the impending exam. Her back protests from the hours spent in the same position, her eyes blink away the fatigue, but she's determined to finalize every last bit. It takes a few more moments before she finishes editing her students’ first examination. It's late—far too late for her to still be at the university, but a sense of accomplishment washes over her.

In the middle of soaking up her minor achievement for the day, she suddenly remembers Sparky. He's been left for hours, with just water, and that she's supposed to get groceries for him this afternoon. Shit, Wanda curses breathily, hurrying her movements.

She's about to shut her laptop when she hears a knock on the door. Thinking it's the security guard, she quickly rehearses her plea for just a few more minutes. However, when she opens the door, she's staring into the all-too-familiar blue eyes of Vision.

Wanda takes an involuntary step back, her pulse quickening. “Mr. Shade,” she greets, an uncharacteristic iciness in her voice.

He looks equally surprised, “Wan—Professor Maximoff,” he responds. “I... I wasn't expecting to see you here.”

“Neither was I. What are you still doing here?”

Vision runs a hand through his hair, looking bashful for a change. “I often come to the art room late at night. It helps me think, especially when I feel creatively stuck. I was on my way home and noticed the lights still on in this office.”

Wanda feels a pang of suspicion, even as she tries to remind herself that the university is as much Vision's space as it is hers. Still, she can't help but feel wary. “Well, I'm just leaving,” she says curtly, shouldering her bag. Before she can take another step, Vision's fingers encircle her arm, the unexpected touch of warm skin on skin causing her to pause. She looks down at where his fingers lightly grip her, and then up into his earnest eyes. She can feel the warmth of his hand, the roughness of his fingertips.

“Wait,” he murmurs, his blue eyes locking onto hers, an earnest plea evident in their depths. “We need to talk.”

Wanda instinctively tries to pull her arm away, but Vision's grip tightens, not painfully but enough to keep her there. He steps closer, effectively cutting off her escape route. His height becomes even more pronounced as he leans slightly, bringing his face closer to hers. His presence feels overbearing, almost intimidating, as he places himself between her and the exit. He quietly closes the door behind him, the soft click echoing in the silence, and the room feels much, much smaller now.

Wanda's eyes dart around, looking for a way out, her mind racing. “Vision, this isn't appropriate,” she manages to say.

All he says is, “I know. I'm sorry.”

They find themselves engaged in a staring contest, with only the sound of their breathing serving as a reminder of each other's presence. Several tense seconds pass, with neither willing to break the gaze. Then, slowly, Vision eases the grip on her arm, his fingers lingering for a moment before letting go entirely. He steps back deliberately, emphasizing the space between them, a clear invitation for her to leave if she chooses to.

Her heart pounding loudly in her ears, Wanda takes a moment to gather her thoughts. She wants to leave, to create as much distance as possible between them, especially when she knows what's about to happen if she gives in even the slightest bit.

She takes a shaky breath and, for the briefest moment, her gaze drifts to her work laptop. A flash of silver catches her eye. Her USB, containing the work she's been laboring on for hours. “I-I forgot something” she mutters, panic rising in her voice. “I need that before I go,” she says, pointing to the device.

Vision nods, not saying a word. Wanda cautiously begins to move towards the desk, but before she can reach it, Vision's there, his movements swift and silent. He suddenly wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her close. The initial shock has her resisting, pushing against his chest, but it's short-lived. Before she knows it, she's letting out a quiet sigh, her face buried in the crook of his neck. He hoists her up effortlessly, seating her on the edge of the desk.

As she looks up at him, he slides his hands up, disappearing beneath her skirt. The faintest image of your face flickers across Wanda's mind, a ghost of a memory that almost pulls her back to sense and reason. But as Vision's fingers find their wet mark, Wanda's grip tightens on the edge of the desk, her eyes fluttering closed. She can no longer recall the sequence of events that led her to this very moment, nor the myriad reasons why it shouldn't be happening.

Every bit of rationale, every thought of you, all seem to evaporate, leaving only the need to breathe and to feel.

To just be.

Wanda remains in her car without starting the engine for a good thirty minutes. She left the room as soon as she could pull her panties up past her knees. She can feel the residual heat on her skin, how he felt inside of her. She resists the urge to squeeze her thighs together, attempting to disregard the stickiness and discomfort she feels.

She clutches the steering wheel, knuckles white, struggling with the realization of what she's done. She's betrayed you. It wasn't just a lapse in judgment, it was a deliberate decision, a yielding to curiosity, to loneliness, to that inexplicable pull towards someone who isn’t you. But as much as she’s drowning in guilt, she couldn’t deny how her mind keeps going back to Vision’s touch, the way he'd made her feel so alive, so seen, in a way she hadn’t felt in a while. It's maddening, this push and pull. It's like there are two sides of her fighting it out inside—one, the devoted partner who loves you, and the other, a woman who's awakened, yearning for something she can't quite put into words.

She laughs, the sound teetering on the edge of hysteria. It's an unsettling sound in the quiet of the car, an indication of her fraying sanity. How did she get here? How did she become this person? In what manner did she find herself engaging in infidelity despite your presence in her life? You've been the guiding light in her life for so long, making her the best version of herself she's ever known. But still, how can she undo this part of herself she never thought existed?

Tears form in her eyes as she closes them, trying to banish the memories, to shut out the storm of emotions threatening to consume her. But they're too powerful, too raw, too fresh. Too real. And she knows she has to face them, to confront the reality of what she's done and decide where to go from here.

It's just past midnight when Wanda's car pulls into the driveway. She emerges from the vehicle in a daze, her steps slow and disconnected, as if each step leads her inexorably towards her reckoning. The door to the house opens before she can even reach for the knob. There you stand, concern evident in your eyes. Wanda hadn't expected to find you awake, especially not at this hour, waiting for her.

It’s your scent first that reaches her before anything else, the distinct aroma of fresh pine from the sprawling garden surrounding the house, coupled with the distinct smell of Sparky, suggesting that you've held him close most of the night. The protective, almost desperate way your arms encircle her reveals just how much you've been consumed with worry about her whereabouts and safety.

Every time you’re near, every time she gets to hold you, it’s instinctual for her to break into a smile. But tonight, it's ephemeral. A tidal wave of guilt and regret crashes over her. She stiffens in your arms, the realization of her actions making her insides churn.

“Where were you?” you exclaim as you pull away and clasp her shoulder blades hard. “I've been here, pacing, worried out of my mind, and I couldn't reach you.”

It's the questioning, the concern, the love in your voice that breaks something inside her. “My phone died and I forgot to bring my charger. I was writing the final exam that I have to turn in by tomorrow, and got carried away. I’m so sorry,” she says evenly, almost robotically.

You raise an eyebrow, frustration evident. “You could've borrowed a phone or used the school's landline, right?”

She has to remind herself that your words aren't accusations. You're not out to corner her; you genuinely don't know what she's done. And in that moment, she decides that she'll do everything to ensure you will never know.

Taking a deep breath, Wanda resorts to tactics she despises in herself. “Like I said, I was working,” she retorts with an exaggerated roll of her eyes, hoping the hint of condescension in her tone might distract you, even as it tears at her own conscience. “It’s Westview. What’s the worst that could happen to me? Please let it go, I’m so fucking exhausted.”

Your reaction to her words is immediate, a palpable retreat, and she's overcome with the urge to spill every secret, every confession, if only she could be certain you wouldn't walk away.

“Fine,” you say tersely, stepping aside to let her pass. “We’ll talk about this in the morning.” You don’t bother to hide the hurt in your eyes and her resolve almost crumbles.

“Sounds good,” she says and turns abruptly, making her way upstairs, her pace quickening with every step.

In the morning, she offers you kisses as an apology, and you're blissfully unaware of the hundred ways it's steeped in treachery.

It keeps happening with Vision and she starts to waste away. On the surface, she seems to be taking better care of herself: shedding some weight, toning in ways that leave you entranced during the few mornings you catch her making breakfast.

But Wanda is adept at playing it cool, brushing off your hungry gazes as if they're mere figments of her imagination. She longs for you in the same intense way she always has, but she's entangled in this twisted duality now. As she writes names and explanations on the board, she can almost feel the intensity of Vision's stare, a heat on her back that she's come to recognize all too well. Sometimes, during a lecture, she'll turn and catch him staring, and right then, she knows where they'll be once the session ends. She also begins to frequent places she's never been to before, corners of the town she hopes no one will recognize them in. There, they sit side by side, their knees touching underneath the table, talking about everything and nothing.

And you wouldn't, not for a second, entertain suspicions about her hardly ever being at home. Because your love for her is profound, and your trust, even more so. Because she knows you're buried under the weight of your own challenges at work, and capitalizes on this knowledge for the time being. Because whatever this is, whatever she’s doing with Vision, she knows it’s temporary. She swears she’ll clean up after herself, the moment she can purge this from her system.

Because none of it feels as if they're truly happening, and Wanda convinces herself it's just a hazy, erotic dream from which she can wake at any moment she chooses.

“Do you love me?”

The question hits Wanda like a freight train. Of course she does. You’re her… of course she does. And she’s never felt the fear of losing you, the true love of her life, more acutely than now.

“Of course I love you,” Wanda says, fighting to keep her voice steady even as her chin quivers. “What a silly question.”

“I guess I’m just feeling silly. We’ve been working hard, and when we’re together,” you pause, your voice quivering, letting out a mirthless laugh, “We’re still working.”

Her guilt amplifies. She's been so engrossed in her own struggles that she failed to see how it's affecting you. The toll it's taken on your relationship. Your insecurities, your need for validation, all because she's been distant and distracting herself from her own demons. She's grateful the shadows conceal her face from you, or else it would be to easy for you to recognize the truth, and—

“I just miss you,” you confess, and it stings.

“Me too,” she whispers, the words filled with layers of meaning she can't articulate. Wanda tries to find more words, something to reassure you further, but she can't quite comfort as effortlessly as you do for her. You've always been more adept at loving her than she's ever been with you.

“Good night,” you say, and Wanda detects no underlying bitterness in your tone. She almost wishes there were. It'd be easier if you didn't love her so unconditionally; then she wouldn't feel so wretched for the secrets she's keeping just beyond this room's walls.

She goes as far as asking herself if she simply misses having a cock inside of her, the thought nagging at her especially when Vision stays firmly inside her, holding her in place as he spills into a condom. She flutters around him a few more times before she slackens in his hold.

Pushing away the guilt that threatens to engulf her every time they are together, Wanda wonders if this reckless escapade with her student is merely an escape from the monotonous predictability of her life or a deeper reflection of some unmet need. Vision’s bedroom becomes a space of both pleasure and torment for her. When she catches her reflection in the mirror he’s installed in front of the bed, she barely recognizes the woman staring back, eyes clouded with both desire and regret. She clings to the belief that once she figures out what she's truly seeking, she can end it all and return to you, wholly and completely. But the more she thinks about it, the more elusive the answer becomes.

Vision’s bony hips gradually come to a stop, and he finally pulls out of her. She feels the evidence of their recent activities on her skin, and is hit with an overwhelming need to wash it all away.

“I need a shower,” she murmurs, more to herself than to him. He simply nods, watching her intently. There's a question in his eyes, perhaps seeking assurance or simply wondering if she'll return to his bed afterwards. Wanda doesn't give him an answer, nor does she meet his gaze for long. Instead, she wraps herself in whatever piece of clothing she can find and heads towards the bathroom.

When she emerges from the shower, redressed in the clothes she wore earlier, Vision is absent from the bedroom. Instead, the appetizing aroma of food wafts toward her. Following the scent, she discovers him in the kitchen, incongruously clad in a pink apron over his boxers.

As Wanda heads straight for the exit, Vision's voice abruptly stops her.

“Wanda, wait.”

She halts, not turning around, her hand still clutching the handle.

“You act as if I'm luring you back each time, Wanda. Like I'm this puppeteer pulling your strings.” He casually flips whatever he's cooking. “That's not how it is, and you know it.”

Wanda grimaces, his words leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. “Vision, it's not that—”

He interrupts her, his tone dripping with feigned innocence, “Have I ever forced you? Pushed you into anything? Or have you willingly come to me every time? You have, haven’t you?”

She turns to face him. “You know it’s more complicated than that—”

“Yet you keep coming back. And every time you do, I think, 'Maybe she sees in me what I see in her.' But then you run, making me out to be the villain.” He finally looks up, his eyes pleading and calculating at the same time.

Tears well up in her eyes. She tries to speak, but he continues, overriding her. “You're an intellectual, Wanda. A brilliant mind. I've learned more from you this semester than years combined. Isn't it natural to be drawn to such brilliance? To want more than just lectures?”

“I'm married,” Wanda states with conviction, even though just an hour ago, that fact held no meaning beneath the sheets. “I've made vows. Promises. Every time I’m with you, I question myself, my integrity. I don't know why I keep letting this happen.” Wanda's voice quivers with frustration and desperation. Vision sees it as a minor victory. He knows he's affecting her.

Disregarding the pan and turning off the stove, he approaches her, his gaze never leaving hers, trying to weave his narrative into her consciousness.

“That's just it, isn't it? There's no betrayal. We're not sneaking around, planning secret getaways. We're two souls who've connected on a level that's rare. Deep, profound. We're just... experiencing it.”

She takes a step back, shaking her head furiously. “It's not right.”

He follows, closing the distance between them. When she’s within his reach, he lifts her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. “Who defines what's right, Wanda? Why is it wrong for two souls with undeniable connection to explore every facet of it? Does it make us bad people to want to feel alive?"

She tries to pull away, her gaze dropping to the floor, but he tightens his grip on her chin. “Look at me,” he says, his voice soft but insistent. “Tell me you don't feel it. This connection.”

She inhales sharply, her resistance waning. “I do... but I can't understand why.”

He releases her, placing a gentle hand on her cheek. “Because it's natural. And maybe… maybe there's nothing malicious in it. Nothing deceitful. We're just... experiencing.”

Wanda closes her eyes, his words washing over her, causing further confusion. “What do you want from me?”

He smiles, his touch growing bolder as he cradles her face. “I want friendship. Inspiration. You've become my muse, Wanda.”

“She loves me,” she murmurs, a last-ditch effort to wriggle free from his hold.

“And you love her, right?” he challenges, slowly starting to unbutton her blouse.

“Yes, but—”

“But love isn't singular,” he interrupts, his fingers moving deftly, revealing more of her skin with every second. “You can love her and still find something unique with me. Your love for her isn’t lessened because of our connection.”

Wanda bites her lip. With every piece of clothing he peels away, it feels like he’s stripping away her defenses, too. “It's not just about love. It's about commitment, trust.”

He slides her jacket off her shoulders, his hands warm against her bare arms. “And haven't you committed to her in every other aspect of your life? You share a life, a home, memories, and love. What we have... it's different. It's intellectual, spiritual,” he argues, his gaze never leaving hers.

“But there are lines we’ve crossed—”

“Lines society drew for us.”

She swallows hard, tears threatening to spill. “I just don't want to hurt anyone.”

His voice softens, even as his fingers deftly work at the last buttons of her blouse. “Neither do I. But sometimes, in life, we have to listen to our true desires, to understand what our heart and soul really need. It’s not about being selfish; it’s about being true to oneself.”

And is this one of her 'true' desires?

Before she can articulate things further, the last of her defenses and garments are stripped away, and Visions sheds his boxers and draws her near. Their skins meet, a tantalizing sensation of heat and urgency. Wanda's breath catches as Vision's strong arms wrap around her waist, effortlessly lifting her. She instinctively wraps her legs around him, their closeness leaving no room for hesitation or doubt.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x vision #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #my writing #category: angst #iss #my fic #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n

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nevernonline · 4 months

Text

✧.* must love dogs; csc one shot.

✧.* synopsis: after a breakup (three years ago) your friend finally attempts to get you back on the saddle by creating you a dating profile despite your protesting, hooking you up on dates with some of the eligible bachelors of their choice, none of which impressed you. until one day you met the boy with the dog.

part of my seventeen movie series.

paring: seungcheol x reader (y/n uses she/her pronouns.)

genre/s: fluff, strangers2lovers

warning/s: alcohol mentions, swearing, cigarette mentions, swearing, some pg-13 jokes.

word count: 3.7k

note: im notorious atp for not editing, pls. I hope you enjoy my lil must love dogs inspired fic, its one of my fav movies!! xo.

“So how was bachelor number five?”

With a roll of your eyes, you gazed at your friend Seungkwan resting his feet on top of your shared glass coffee table, ticking the tip of the city guide book and magazines rested on top.

“Boring. He was nice or whatever, good looking, but he wouldn’t shut up about league of legends and his job. Other than that he asked me no questions about myself or what I do. A failure as most would call it.”

“So I take it you wouldn’t want to go out with him again?”

“God, whatever gave you that impression? I thought you could tell we were headed for marriage?”

“Hey. I’m doing you a very nice thing, you don’t have to be so sarcastic about it.”

“Look, I know. But just because Jun is getting married and I still haven’t moved on doesn’t mean I need to be dating all of the sudden.”

The boy patted the seat next to him. Scooching over from his spot, making room for you on the couch.

“ It’s been nearly three years since you ended it with him. At least fuck someone before you dry up.”

“That’s fucking gross and what vibrators are for.”

A small scream left your friend's mouth as he covered his ears trying to remove what he had just heard coming out of your mouth.

“Y/n his wedding is in two months, we need to find someone to bring that’s not me. You don’t want to feel the embarrassment of his pity party and everyone feeling sorry for you.”

“Why can’t you just be my date?”

“Too obvious. Plus your whole family will be there, just do it or you know your parents will be in your case again. This ‘ secret man’ you’ve been seeing doesn’t exist and I think your Mom is starting to catch on.”

He was right. Your parents come from a high status, as do your ex boyfriends, they were the reason you both had met and became friends in the first place. But, when your relationship ended you lied to them, it was working well until you got a call from your very upset mother telling you Jun showed up to your house with his family and a girl on his arm that wasn’t you.

“Okay, then why can’t I choose my own date?”

“The men you chose to quote on quote date are literally disturbing, I’m sorry but it’s the truth. Like that one dude you brought here last time? Whatever the fuck his name was literally was wearing a necklace vial of his own blood and claimed drinking your own urine and reusing water is the only way we can save the planet.”

“Okay, but he was nice.”

“He literally didn’t flush the toilet because he only went number one. That’s fucked, no.”

“Can I at least, like at the very least have some approval over the men you match me with then?”

“Maybe.”

“ Kwanie, please. Come on, don’t make me use the what goes around card, it’s my turn”

“No, it's absolutely my turn.”

“Not true, you wasted it two months ago when I had to bail you out of that strange house party orgy thing by saying your dog died and coming in crying to a bunch of naked strangers. You owe me.”

“Valid.”

“How did you not realize what that party was anyway?”

“This is not currently about my life failures, but yours my beautiful friend.”

Laughing at Seungkwan's major mishap, you forgot to greet your dog, Lucky. She was waiting and crying at your feet, finally waking up from her sweet slumber to greet you.

“Hello my baby, do we have to go outside?”

“She went for a walk this afternoon, but after her dinner she crashed so she probably wants a walk. I can go if you want to change or shower.”

“No it’s alright, I can take her, you're already in your pj’s and after my date I need a distress, want anything from the mart?”

“Ice cream?”

With a small nod you jumped up, taking the small curly creature in your arms and grabbing her harness before heading back outside into the warm spring air.

Ten minutes into your evening stroll, you decided to sit on the green wooden bench overlooking the water, the same bench your grandmother always spoke about when you asked her the same story about how she and your grandfather got engaged. The gold plaque with their names rubbing off sitting behind your back.

Suddenly you heard a man yelling from behind you, running through the green grass lit up with fluorescent lights.

“Hey, Kkuma, no come back.”

A small white dog came up behind Lucky sniffing her and starting to play, you noticed her cute hairclip and ran your hands through her fur.

“God, I’m sorry. She normally doesn’t run off like that.”

“It’s okay my dog lov-“

As you turned around to look into the round eyes of the owner, you were stunned with how beautiful he was.

His dark hair pushed under a cap, a white t-shirt too big for his frame sitting beautifully in his toned shoulders, and his red sweatpants matching his shoes.

The unfamiliar man was bending down now petting your precious pet and his own at the same time talking to them in sweet baby voices.

“This is Kkuma by the way, and you are?”

“Y/N”

“Hi y/n, you’re so cute, you and kkuma can be best friends if your mom lets you.”

You let out a roaring laugh realizing he thought you had introduced your pet and not yourself.

“Oh sorry, did I say something wrong?”

“No, no. It’s just I’m y/n this is Lucky sorry my fault.”

“Oh god, cool. Sorry Lucky, I’m Seungcheol. You can call me Cheol and this is Kkuma.”

“Nice to meet you Cheol and Kkuma.”

“You too. Look I know I just met you and all, but I’m new to the area. I was wondering if you’d want to get coffee and let the girls hangout sometime?”

“Oh. Yeah, of course. Let me give you my number.”

Seungcheol handed you his cell phone with a new contact page pulled up giving you full reign to type your name and number into his list.

Handing the device back to him your fingers touched, creating an electric shock, to not like you to believe in signs, but for some reason it felt like the universe trying to tell you something.

“Thank you, I’ve actually got to get going, but if you're free tomorrow would you want to grab coffee and hangout at the dog park?”

“Yeah, totally. Just text me a time, we can just meet here. What kind of coffee do you drink? There’s a good spot by my apartment. I can just pick it up for us.”

“Wow, that’s so nice of you. Just a black americano is cool or a cold brew whichever.”

“No fun I see.”

“How would you know that? Just because I don’t like sugary drinks doesn’t mean I can’t have fun.”

“I don’t know, we will see.”

“We will. I’ll catch you tomorrow girls.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“You too!”

Seungcheol left the same way he came running through the grass with Kkuma on his heels, following him all the way back to their home.

Strolling back down the pathway back to your apartment, you could help but feel butterflies in your stomach, you knew nothing about the man you just met other than his name and his cute dog, but there was a lot of unknown.

Smiling like a Cheshire Cat, you unlocked the front door and watched Lucky sprint back into Seungkwan lounging on the couch, eating for the ice cream you had forgotten.

“Where’s the snacks? Also why are you smiling like an idiot you’re freaking me out.”

“We met a guy with his dog, a very cute guy might I add, who actually asked for my number and wants to get coffee tomorrow.”

“ What the fuck, it’s late tell me he doesn’t live in the park?”

“No he said he just moved to the area, he was clearly not a park dweller he had keys, and smelt amazing actually.”

“Smelling strangers? A new low even for you”

“Oh my god, fuck off.”

Seungkwan pulled his phone out and opened various social media apps preparing himself for best friend stalking duties.

“What’s his name?”

“Seungcheol, not sure about his last name, but he goes by Cheol and his dog was Kkuma.”

“Great.. okay, found him I assume?”

“What the fuck, how? Let me see.”

“Eager aren’t we?”

“Fuck off?”

Grabbing Seungkwan's phone from his grip, you scroll quickly through the new faces' social media.

“Yeah, it’s him.”

“Okay, let me see. Wait, he's actually hot AND seems to have his own business?”

“Oh my god.”

“Here, look”

After the next few hours, you and your friend stumble on into your separate rooms preparing yourself for slumber, which never seems to reach you and before you know it dawn is creeping its way through your curtains, and your backup preparing yourself for a day with you and Lucky's new friends.

Something about your energy was excitable and nearing frantic, you could wait to step outside into the fresh air with your pocket sized princess at your side, but it was still early.

You had decided on pampering yourself for this morning, finding the need to make yourself up, you spread on your skin care with glee, drew perfect lines of eyeliner and strained your hair, pulling it up into a nice tight ponytail the hair tie matching the taupe tone of your sweat suit perfectly. Before you knew it it was 9:45 a perfect time for you and Lucky to step outside the door.

Placing her in her tote bag, you stepped inside of your favorite coffee shop, the light pink walls covered in photos and paintings, the smell of the espresso seemed sweeter.

“Morning, y/n you look beautiful today. Would you like the usual?”

“Thank you, for me, yes. But can I also get a large americano, just black and he didn’t tell me iced or hot, so iced is good I think? Or maybe hot with a cup of ice on the side? If that’s okay?”

“He? Did you finally start dating someone?”

“Oh no, just a friend of mine. Seungkwan told you shit about me didn’t he?”

“Yes. Sorry.”

“No worries, can I actually get two of the plain croissants and two of the flower dog cookies too?”

“No problem, it’ll be right out.”

“Thank you.”

Taking a seat next to the pick up counter you scrolled through the instagram of the boy you’re meant to be meeting, telling yourself it’s just to remember his face, but really it was to get a peek into what else he’s into or if he was single.

“Y/N”

“Oh shit, sorry. Thank you guys, see you tomorrow.”

Picking up the paper coffee carrier and pastry bag, you waved goodbye to the baristas and briskly walked back to the bench you were at yesterday, your bench, spotting the back of Seungcheol’s head watching the water with his dog.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.”

“Oh, no problem. I just got here.”

Placing your items down on the bench, you freed her bag and greeted Kkuma alongside her before taking your seat.

“Here’s your coffee, I wasn’t sure if you wanted hot or iced so I got you a cup of ice too just in case, a croissant, and a little treat for your girl too.”

“Wow thank you so much, hot is fine actually. How are you?”

“Good, nervous. I mean it’s not every day you meet a stranger for coffee.”

Seungcheol laughed, tipping his head back slightly before taking a bite of his pastry.

“Sorry. I know it’s weird, you just seemed like someone I wanted to get to know, and Kkuma liked you so I figured you’re good people.”

“Well, thank you. You too. Lucky generally does not like men other than my friend Seungkwan, my dad, and my ex-boyfriend so consider yourself special.”

“I do.”

“So what brought you to this neighborhood? Work, a relationship?”

“No relationship, but actually my business partner is from here. We decided to open our warehouse and stuff here because it’s much better than doing it in the city. We have a spirit company and we’re planning on opening a brewery and bar, so that’s why I’ve been working late nights. I guess it served me well, I made a friend on my first day.”

“You’ve only been here for a full day? What the hell? You already know the best spot in town. What kind of stuff do you guys make?”

“Beer and soju mainly, we’ve been working on it for five years now and are finally at a spot to open up and start selling it to people, which is cool. But what about you? What do you do?”

“I’m a medical student actually, my parents are both doctors, I used to really want to be one too, but I don’t know, I don’t really have the same passion for it as I used to.”

“Well what would you do if you had the choice?”

“I always wanted to design stuff for dogs, start a rescue, anything like that. I got so happy seeing Kkuma as an accessory girl.”

“Yeah, she’s very stylish. I think you should go for it, you know? Why waste time becoming something for someone else and risk being unhappy just for their sake?”

“Honestly I wouldn’t even know how to start a business on my own, let alone tell my parents.”

“Hey, I didn’t either and look where it’s gotten me.”

You turned back to the water, staring into the calm blue waters, trying not to go into your own head.

“You’re oddly inspiring, I’ll give you that much.”

“Thank you, y/n. You’re oddly sassy, I’ll give you that.”

“Shut up, I’m not.”

“You already tried to clock me by saying I’m no fun because I drink black coffee and you said oddly inspiring like a back handed compliment. You definitely are, but I like it.

“Good.”

You had continued your twice weekly hangouts with Kkuma and her dad for two weeks now, getting excited whenever the days roll around to see the two of them again, but you haven’t hung out once without them around, which made you wonder if your friendship or crush rather on this boy was only due to your dogs being friends themselves.

Seungkwan tried setting you up on more and more dates with more and more duds, he was starting to lose hope himself, knowing that the one person he could set you up with was Seungcheol but he didn’t want to overstep.

Strolling home from another failed connection, you decide to stop and have a beer before going home to give the dirty details to Seungkwan about who you had just met.

Pulling open the tab of one of your drinks from your six pack, you took a deep breath and sat down, feeling your eyes welling up with tears.

Another can opened as you went to take the first sip. A hand comes on your shoulders, whispering a boo in your ears.

“What the fuck!”

Jumping up from your seat the hand on your shoulder belonged to Seungcheol, the look in his eyes went from happy to concerned as he saw the small streaks of tears on your cheeks, you top now dribbled with spots of beer.

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Want a beer?”

“Sure, thanks. I’m sorry I scared you, I thought you heard me behind you.”

“It’s alright, I was in my own world anyway. You look nice, where are you headed?”

“Soft opening for my bar actually, I texted you, but I figured you didn’t respond because you were busy.”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I would’ve loved to come. I was a bit preoccupied on an awful fucking date.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Worse.”

“Well the good news is you technically didn’t miss it, it doesn’t start for another twenty minutes and you’re dressed very nice. It worked out.

“Fuck I wish I paid more attention, I could’ve got you some flowers or something.”

“Next time. Will your roommate be alright taking care of Lucky?”

“Yeah of course, he knew I would be out tonight. I’ll text him just to be sure.”

“Cheers to hanging out without our kids?”

“Definitely.”

With that suddenly your awful night and doubts about your relationship with the raven haired boy went out the window.

“Shall we?”

“We shall.”

Seungcheol lent his arm out for you to wrap your own around, and you both stayed out that way for a few moments, before discarding your cans and walking the way to his new venture.

“Here it is, you ready?”

“When you told me you were opening this up I thought you hadn’t even started? But it looks like it’s fully ready.”

“Ah, well we had planned to wait a bit, but we’re getting too antsy, so here we are.”

“It’s beautiful, holy shit.”

“Thanks, sit here, I’ll be right back.”

You took a seat on the green leather booth, looking around and taking in the ambiance of the custom lighting and ribbon like wallpaper, when a blonde gentleman walked over sitting down across from you.

“Y/n? Right?”

“Yeah, nice to meet you…”

“Jeonghan, I’m Cheol’s business partner.”

“Jeonghan, right. Nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard a lot.”

“Likewise, you’re so much prettier than Cheol let on actually.”

“Oh?”

Without a chance to interrogate the new face further Seungcheol walked back over to your table, setting down a few bottles of various spirits for you to try, including a couple of cocktails.

“He didn’t scare you too much did he?”

“Not at all, he was just telling me actually how much prettier I am than you alluded to.”

“Jeonghan, don’t do that to her, come on. You know very well I told you she was pretty, I even showed you her instagram, you agreed.”

“I know, I just wanted to make you tell her yourself and my job is done, see you around y/n.”

“Nice to meet you.”

As Jeonghan left the table you felt your cheeks growing with heat, unsure if it was the alcohol or the fact that Seungcheols friend made him confess he thought you were good looking.

“Sorry about him, he’s a menace.”

“No need to be sorry, I have my own menace at home and I don’t mean my dog.”

Seungcheol laughed, pouring you a shot of his very own soju to taste, filling with anticipation hoping you enjoy the drink he’s serving you, looking for your approval became a big part of his mind lately.

Lifting your glass up to his and clinking them together, the liquor poured down the back of your throat filling your mouth with sweetness and warmth.

“Holy shit.”

“Good holy shit or bad holy shit?”

“No, very good. That’s actually delicious. It’s so clean and fresh.”

“That makes me so happy to hear.”

“I’m happy you’re happy.”

“Okay, beer next. This is just a standard sour, some lime and sea salt, sort of beach vibes.”

“Sounds amazing, okay.”

Tipping your head back you sipped at the foamy top of the glass, savoring the flavors in your mouth.

“I hate you so much.”

“What? Why?”

“Seungcheol, you're way too humble when you talk about your business, this shit is amazing. I said I hate you because I’m going to crave this shit and I’ll have to see you all the time.”

“I thought you liked seeing me all the time?”

“You’re okay.”

“I have to say it’s cool to be here with you without the dogs, not that they distract too much, but they definitely take away giving you my full attention.”

“I mean how could they not, they’re cute as fuck,”

“So are you.”

“Wow, two drinks in Cheol and you’re already calling me cute? I wonder what else you’ll say the more you drink?"

“Technically we’re four drinks in, but I guess I remember the time I spent with you more than you do. Did those drinks on the bench mean nothing to you?”

“Oh fuck, I did forget. I guess technically I’m five drinks in then, catch up, bitch.”

You and Seungcheol spent the rest of the night being greeted by his friends, most of them already assuming who you were, letting you know that Seungcheol talks about you more than you realized.

Feeling your blood alcohol content rising, you decided to take a step outside and refresh.

The bell of the door opened up behind you, putting you face to face with his cherry lips once again, watching them light up a hand rolled cigarette to his lips.

“Doing okay?”

“Yeah, just wanted to step out for a second. Are you good?”

“Very. Want a cig?”

“No, I’m good for now. Ask me again later.”

“So will there be a later? You’re not ditching me now?”

“I’d never do that.”

“So, y/n does this maybe get me a chance to take you on a date? I’m kind of drunk so I’m feeling oddly bold.”

“Is this not sort of a date?”

“I was hoping you thought so. Is that a yes?”

“Absolutely. I thought you’d never ask.”

“Before we go on our date though, y/n. I have one final question?”

“Yes?”

“Do you still think I’m boring?”

“A little.”

Seungcheol grabbed your waist and spun you around, causing his perfectly rolled tobacco to fall on the sidewalk.

Blissfully you were giggling and laughing under the red led lights of his bar.

“Take it back.”

“Nope.”

“Please.”

You looked into his puppy dog eyes and did something out of your comfort zone. Wrapped your hands loosely around his neck, placing a deepened kiss onto his lips.

His mouth tasted of cigarettes and salt with a hint of vanilla from the lip balm he always had on him.

“Is that a good ‘sorry I called you boring’ kiss?”

“It’ll do for now.”

“Good. They’ll be more where that came from.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky promise.”

You and Seungcheol unwrap from each other, finding Jeonghan standing and cheering in the window watching the two of you.

“Can’t believe I got a hot date and a sister for Kkuma all in one.”

“You lucky dog.”

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