#and god this took so long I was doing so many things with it and now I'm at WORK CLOSING SO I HAVE TO POST THIS WHILE I CAN AUGH | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ohsc · 1 day

Note

Imagine Sam with his daughter and she's dressing him up and doing his hair. You know those fairy wings you can wear, her forcing him to wear those and she's wearing a princess dress.

tysm for the request!! i’m a bit rusty so i feel like this kinda sucks and it ended up being much longer than intended lol but i’m loving this verse sm so much more to come :) | juno verse, single dad sam winchester x fem!reader, 1.5k, kid fic, fluff, not proof red, requests open only for juno fics

“Don’t laugh.” Were the first words out of his mouth when he opened the door and saw her stood there.

He had been trying to clean up the apartment when he knew that she was coming over after work — also in an attempt to starve off the giddiness, which hadn’t worked out either — when his daughter had attached herself to his leg and refused to let go until he played with her. Juno, he was convinced, had all of the stubbornness of a Winchester, and he’d rather just give in easily then peel her off of his leg and have a crying toddler and a messy apartment.

Y/N had been visiting more and more over the recent weeks, she had started to work herself into the little routine that he and Juno had been building, and it made him so soft. There hadn’t been somebody that he’d looked forward to seeing like that in a long time.

Her lips were curving upwards as she looked at him, lips pressed together in a clear attempt to not laugh at him. “…you look pretty.”

Juno’s recent game of choice had been dress up, which was honestly just a kinder way of saying she liked to hold him hostage and dress him up until she got bored. His hair was pulled into three pigtails, there were god knows how many butterfly clips up there, and he was pretty sure there were at least two stickers on his face somewhere.

“Thanks,” he rolled his eyes, stepping aside to let her into the apartment. He really tried not to stare as she stepped past, but she really was just so pretty. It would help if he didn’t have Dean in his ear whenever he called telling him that he clearly had a thing for waitresses. “My stylist got bored waiting for you, here.” Sam gently took her jacket from her and hung it up next to his own and Juno’s red coat on the hooks by the door.

“I’d say I’m sorry but I’m not, you look great.” She giggled, a hand reached up with the intention of touching his hair, but the shout of her name from down the hall took both of their attention.

She crouched down just in time to open her arms to the toddler barrelling down the hall towards her, almost slipping on the material of her princess dress in the process which made Sam wince.

“Hey, sweetheart.” She caught Juno in her arms with a tight squeeze, somehow not knocked to the floor. Sam was so immeasurably soft whenever he got to watch her with his daughter, how much she was adored by Juno and how much she adored her back. It was the most important thing to him, that his daughter liked her. And she really did — more than him, he thought sometimes.

“Oh I missed you so much,” she squeezed his toddler once more before pulling back to look at her, smiling as she touched the puffy skirt of her dress. “Oh don’t you look so pretty, Junie? I love your dress.”

“It’s sleeping beauty’s dress,” Juno informed her, smile full of pink chubby cheeks as she soaked up the praise. “Daddy got it for me for my last birthday, when I was three.” She held up three fingers to show her, somehow covered in glitter that Sam could only dread to think was in his hair.

“Well it’s very pretty,” she beamed, gently smoothing over a few wrinkles in the dress. “Are you dressing up daddy to match?”

“No,” she shook her head, tone firm as if it was obvious. “He’s a fairy,” as if she suddenly just remembered what they’d been doing she frowned and let go of Y/N, clumsily stepping around her to grab at Sam’s hand and tugged with far too much strength for her little body. “Daddy, not done.”

Sam sighed, eyes down on her as she tugged on his arm as if she could pull him down the hallway herself. She had turned her big puppy eyes on, the ones he could never really say no to. “I know, Bug, why don’t you let me make Y/N a coffee and then—”

“No,” she whined, tugging harder. “Now.”

The clouds were forming for a tantrum, it had been that way all afternoon, it’s why he’d settled for letting her play dress up in the first place. She always got cranky after pre-school on Mondays. “Baby—”

“It’s okay,” a hand touched his arm and he turned to look at her. “I know where everything is, I can make one. I did interrupt play time.”

“Thanks,” he breathed, ever grateful for how amazing she was with Juno. If he didn’t know any better, he’d have assumed that she had kids of her own. “Really, I’ll make it up—”

“Daddy.” Juno was whining louder, tugging his arm again, and he just let out a breath as he leaned down to scoop her up onto his arms, settling her on his hip.

“Why are you acting up, hm?” Not really annoyed, he knew she couldn’t really help it, he reached his free hand up to tickle at her side until she giggled. Satisfied that he’d successfully worked around a tantrum he led Y/N down the hall with his daughter on his hip, though she already knew the place like the back of her hand. If he wasn’t so nervous he would’ve invited her to stay the night already.

He watched her disappear into the kitchen to make herself a drink before he took Juno back into the living room, and returned to his spot on the floor where he’d been held captive for the past twenty minutes. The floor was littered with hair clips and tiaras and plastic shoes which he’d clean up when she went to bed, but he didn’t really mind the mess if it meant she was happy.

“Daddy,” she was pulling at his hair again, stood on his thighs, only not falling off onto the carpet because of his hands on her sides. He watched her reach for another hair clip, a glittery yellow butterfly, and tried not to wince as he felt it’s teeth scrape against his scalp as she shoved it into place. “Can Y/N play too?”

Juno had been attached to her ever since they’d become friends. It was sweet, endearing really. Aside from himself and Dean, the only other adults she really got to see were her teachers at pre-school. Juno really adored her, clung to her every moment she could. She’d come with Sam to pick Juno up from school once and she’d practically screamed across the playground when she saw her.

“If she wants to, Junie,” he hummed, holding her steady as she leaned to the floor to grab something else. “She had a long day at work, she might be tired.”

“I still play after school.” Her nose scrunched up in a way that made him smile.

“Waitressing is a little different to school, baby. It’s not very fun.”

Juno hummed like she was thinking about it as she scrambled off of his lap to reach into her toy box. “Then she should get a new job,” she settled on, tugging out her pink fairy wings from the crate. “A fun one.”

Sam nodded a little, smiling softly as he murmured, “I agree.”

Little hands pulled at his arm, and he leaned forwards like she’d moved him herself. The elastic loops of the fairy wings were a little small for his shoulders, but he didn’t complain about the tightness of the band as he helped her get them on him, worth it to hear her giggle when it was all done.

“Those look great,” he looked up and watched as Y/N walked into the room, two mugs in her hands, one of which she placed down on the coffee table for him. “You did a really great job, Junie, now he really looks like a fairy.”

The way she was smiling at him was making his face heat up. Jesus, he needed to get a grip.

“Can you play?” Juno clambered off of Sam’s lap again to head over to her, grabbing some butterfly clips from the floor on her way. “Pretty please?”

“Baby, I’m sure she’s probably really tired—”

“It’s okay,” she waved him off with a fond little smile, before she looked back to Juno. “I’ll play if you make a deal with me, sweet girl.”

Juno nodded furiously like it was the most important thing in the world.

“If you promise me that you’ll eat your vegetables with dinner you can dress me up however you like, hm?”

Juno beamed and nodded, her little pinky clunkily hooking around the one that Y/N held up.

Sam met her eyes over Juno’s head, mouthing a thank you that earned him a smile in return. God, he was smitten.

#juno verse !!#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x you #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester drabble #sam winchester oneshot #sam winchester fic #sam winchester fanfiction #spn #spn x reader #spn one shot #supernatural #supernatural x reader #supernatural drabble

127 notes · View notes

aritsukemo · 13 hours

Note

I don’t know if your requests are open, but I simply love your writing! May I have a Zhongli/Venti/Xiao Prompt with a reader who’s secretly a god from another world?

Finding out you're secretly a god | Genshin Impact

( @scar8o )

Summary: After your powers are revealed in a heat of the moment decision, you and your partner have a much needed conversation..

Characters: Xiao, Zhongli, and Venti

Warnings: Nothing much. Mentions of reader facing discrimination in Xiao's and slight tears towards the end of Xiao's as well.

A/N: AGHHHH this took months to finally write, but I'm glad I finally got the push I needed to finish this! I'm sorry you had to wait so long and I hope you enjoy this little collection of drabbles I put together! :D

A yellowish-orange shade was cast over Teyvat just like it would any other evening. Nothing had changed; the wind was still blowing, wildlife was as and as wild as ever, and the grass was still the same old greenish tinge.

Well, today, Xiao supposes that something has changed. For the first time in years, there was complete silence between you two. Being the chatterbox that you were, it was never like this since you're always rambling on about whatever popped into your head—whether that'd be how your day went, what you should do tommorow, or even the most trivial things like which colored cloth you should use to wipe off your weapons.

But that particular evening, you didn't utter a word. You simply sat there, knees to your chest as you gazed at the sun slowly setting upon the horizon. It felt odd for Xiao—awkward if he were to be so mundane. At the same time, he had no way of relieving this odd, awkward tension from the air. He had so many question stirring in his head that could at least fill the air with something of substance, and yet, he felt hesitant to voice any of them.

But he has to say something. If he doesn't, he fears that he'll never get his questions answered. So, without looking your way, he asks, "Who..are you really?"

You don't answer immediately and for a moment, Xiao thought you didn't hear him at all. Before he can repeat himself, however, he hears your voice, low and uncharacteristically sullen as you tell him, "Someone who doesn't belong here.."

He doesn't realize it, but upon hearing your response and looking over at you, his eyes softened—and just like the snow he used to munch down to prevent himself from starving to death, his golden hues glistened in the light of the setting sun. He didn't know what to say to that. Or rather, he couldn't think of anything to say that would be comforting to your ears.

That's one the things about you that he's fond of, but is also envious of. You always knew the right thing to say even when he thought you didn't. It's one of his favorite things about you..

"Look, I'm sorry for lying to you for so long.." You said before heaving a long, tired sigh. One that sounded as if you've been holding it for ages, "In my own world, people despised me and this power so much so that they tried everything they could to make my life miserable.."

"Adults, kids, girls, boys, women, and men.. Even when they were more different than the glaxies above, the one thing that was always the same was the way they looked at me.. That deep swirl of hatred in their eyes as they stared at me..like I was some kind of monster.. No matter what I did for them, it never changed," Xiao chooses to ignore the way your voice cracks midway through your sentence—the signal that the glass dam inside you was beginning to crack..

"When I got here, I saw this as my brethren relieving me of that pain..like a fresh start. I was so happy..and so, so scared. I was terrified of the past happening again so I swore to do everything in my power to keep that part of me hidden for as long as I was able.."

At this point, he could see those crystal tears rolling down your face, the translucent trail they left glimmering in the sun's glow. He's never seen them before. You never allowed him to and now, he's grateful that you never did because the sight of you crying made his chest feel heavy and empty, causing it to ache. The sight was painful. It felt wrong associating this feeling with something so..human, but it's the only thing to describe this black hole forming where his heart's supposed to be..

And in attempt to fill that feeling, he finally asks, "Do you think this power of yours will bring harm to the people of Liyue?" You finally glance at him, confusion written all over that tear-stricken face of yours. He merely looks at you with expectancy, so you eventually croak out a small, "No.."

"Do you ever think that you'll try to take over Liyue and force it's people under your thumb?" He threw another question at you, and this time, you answered quickly, blurting out an offended sounding, "Of course not! Do you think I would?"

"No," He answered immediately, "But as the protector of this land, I had to make sure we were on the same page before I said anything else," And he gets up. Your crystalized eyes follow after him, confusion beginning to swirl along with a headache—the result caused by your near-breakdown just now.

"Wha.." You begin, but your voice dies in your throat as he offers you a hand and looks you in the eyes like he would any other day—as if everything was normal.

"You said before that after all of this was over, you'd drag me off somewhere to 'wind down', didn't you? Well, I'm allowing you this once to do so without having any resistance on my end," He clarifies, and that's when it finally clicks in your mind; nothing has changed. The world is still spinning, the once clear, orange sky has turned blue and starry. Xiao is still willing to reach out to you, still willing to stare at you with adoration and love, and be around you. He still sees you as simply Y/n.

And you find yourself brought to tears all over again. Yet this time, it's due to sheer relief instead of anxiety and agony. It's because of the happiness you feel as you reach out your hand and let yourself be helped up like some damsel..

..And it's all becase of Xiao, who's kind enough to see you as something other than a monster. Something lesser than a divine god or goddess, but as simply another person of the land who he should protect.

"So when did you figure it out?" You asked to the man who sat across from you at the table—although to others it seemed as though you were talking to your tea from how your eyes were trained on it the entire time you spoke, pupils following every ripple it made with every slight of your hand.

The man across from you—who you've called many endearments over the years of knowing him—simply hummed at your question, taking the time to grab his own tea cup before answering just as casually, "Some time ago. I've had some theories of my own for a while now, but..outside assistance helped to point me in the right direction."

"So the traveler told you," You stated, your tone leaving no room for him to lie or say otherwise—a silent testament that it was futile to try and deny something you already seen as a fact, but he attempted anyways.

"Not exactly," He said, "It was a slip of the tongue on Paimon's part, a small one at that, I barely noticed it myself." And this time, you hum, closing your eyes as you at last take a sip of your tea—which has long since gotten cold since it arrived at your table.

You take a long, slow sip, as if you were buying time, or maybe, simply trying to collect all the thoughts swirling in your head and condense them in a coherent, civil sentence. Whatever it is, Zhongli allows you that time and patiently waits for you to finally set your cup down again..

"So? What do you plan to do with me now that you know?" The question comes off blunt—slightly threatening to the unintelligent ears, but it doesn't phase Zhongli. After all, he knows that you weren't threatening him, but more rather felt threatened. Similar to a cornered bunny who's only defense weapons are its fluffy, dull nubs.

"Nothing at all," He says, and at last your eyes cross the table to look him in the eyes. He does the same, granting you the same favor.

There's a moment of silence between you two in that moment. You silently demand an answer to his previous answer and the light thrumming of your fingers against the smooth, expensive wood gave away your impatience, your growing anxiety, and most importantly your fear. It's a discomforting sight to see of his usually calm lover, and so, he's quicker to respond to you in hopes of relieving your tension.

"You hold me in such high regard, dear. And while I'm flatter, may I remind you that I'm simply a consultant. I have no power to do anything other than grant you a comfortable resting place to lay your head when you pass," He closes his eyes, breaking eye contact with you to bless you with a small, polite smile, "A question like that would be more fit for the Tianquan, would it not?"

"In my humble opinion, though, I think it best if you didn't stir a pot that has already settled. Going to Lady Ningguang over something she knows nothing about is not needed, don't you agree?"

He opens his eyes again to look at you, only having the luxury to catch the tail end of your reaction to him deciding to sweep this under the rug before your expression smoothens out and a smile eases onto your face and your fingers move to lace around your cup once again..

"I suppose you're right. Forget I said anything then."

"Who knew my windblume could be even more extraordinary than I once thought?" He told you under that massive oak tree—The Symbol of Mondstadt's Hero—after sneaking away with you, who was just praised the entire evening for your heroic deeds.

"You flatter me," You said before letting out a chuckle. Venti chose not to comment on how it sounded drier than how the fruits up in Celestia look, "Really, I don't deserve such praise.."

"On the contrary! You were Mondstadt's savior today! Not to mention mines!" He said cheerily, "If it weren't for you, Mondstadt would've been robbed of this bard's melodious melodies!"

You found yourself huffing at the absurdity of his words before you can stop yourself. Making up for the slip-up with a half-hearted, agreeing hum.

"You're a fool.. Having a dangerous being such as myself leisurely lay on you like this.." You whisper into his thigh as you turn on your side, your voice muffling due to half of your face being smothered by the puff of his shorts. Your comment was heard nonetheless and earned a chuckle from the bard.

"Love makes one do foolish things," He simply replies, before you feel something cold and smooth against your cheek. Your eyes flutter open and out of the corner of your eyes you see the familar red hue that you would only see plastered on one of the delicious treats the Cuihua Trees so graciously gift Teyvat.

You take the apple from his grasp, once again laying flat on your back as you hold the apple above you as if to tantalize yourself.

"I'm serious. You shouldn't be this nice to me anymore, Barbatos," Another slip of the tongue—one promptly ignored and immediately pushed to back of both of your minds, "I'm nothing but a weapon of destruction."

"That you may have been in the past, but as of now, you're simply a bartender at Angel's Share who's fallen head over heels for a skillful bard; me," He replies after swallowing the chewed, sweet chunks in his mouth that came from his apple—which has already been half-eaten at this point.

And you find yourself huffing again. This time at the realization that he was right—at least the part about being hopelessly in love with him anyways..

"You had a long day, so why not you rest after you eat? I'll strum you a gentle tune that'll carry you away to pleasant dreams, ehehe~!" He suddenly suggest—an obvious attempt at deading the conversation where it stands before you say something too depressing to brush off easily. You pretend to not notice, deciding to accept your defeat for now, as you nod, finally bringing the apple down to your lips and taking a bite, being careful to chew the bite thoroughly before swallowing..

"That sounds nice.. Maybe resting my eyes wouldn't be so bad."

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

69 notes · View notes

soobadnoonecanstopher · 7 hours

Text

Rat Bastard - Part 8

Pairing: You x Kyungsoo

Rating: M (Mature)

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: There were too many beds, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Idiots to Lovers, Giggles, Alcohol Consumption, Some Angst

Tag: @ilovemyapopbaby

Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

There was something so weirdly liberating about showering naked. I know, I know, that’s how people do it, but listen, taking a shower, a genuine one, a real one with plenty of soap and shampoo and a razor and some gentle exfoliating and then with nicely scented lotion spread all over your skin -- all without the worry of someone walking in on you? You felt kind of as if you had died and gone to heaven. This heaven had warm water and it cascaded down your spine and washed away nearly every bit of tension you had felt in your body only moments before. Nearly.

It wasn’t as if the possibility of him walking in here and witnessing you in the shower was entirely gone, but you knew he wouldn’t. You knew, deep down inside where you knew all of the facts about all of the things you knew, you knew that he absolutely would not dare. He had made some silly rule with himself about not having sex without being in a committed relationship and unless he was about to walk into this bathroom and have his way with you, which he wasn’t, then you knew you were unequivocally, entirely, completely alone in here to do whatever it was you needed to do.

And you had to, that man had gotten you so worked up you couldn’t even lather your skin up without feeling the need for some sort of a release -- you felt the need deep down inside of your abdomen, deep inside of your veins, deep inside of your bones. You couldn’t even remember a time when another human being had left you in such a state.

The release you sought came to you too quickly. You longed for the clarity of mind that would follow but even after, even actual minutes after, you could still feel that unimaginable longing whenever you remembered the way he kissed you.

Again and again, his face slipped into your mind. His lips, his tongue, his teeth, and the things he did to you with them. His chin resting just over your belly button, his nose that nuzzled into you, the long and deep inhales he took of you, the hot breaths that flooded, and his eyes, his fucking eyes, his eyes that looked at you but felt like they did so much more than just look; his eyes that took the air straight from your lungs, his eyes that inundated and flooded, destroyed and rebirthed. You felt absolutely insane. He hadn’t even fucked you and you felt absolutely insane.

The reflection of yourself in the aged, clouded-over mirror had you looking positively glowing. You looked radiant all clean and smooth and naked and the flush you saw in your skin, particularly the natural rose color in your face had you giggling like a mad-woman all by your lonesome.

He would be cooking dinner for you. Would he be starting it already? You absentmindedly wondered about the timing of it all. You had no idea what he would be making; you weren’t even sure if you’d really be able to taste anything as distracted as your mind felt. But you were going to eat it all because he was making it for you.

Him. He. That soft and kind, sort of, that charming and funny, kind of, the gentle and not at all supercritical or hypersensitive, the itty bitty tiny bit of a rat, even less of a bastard, your sweetest, most infuriatingly competitive, probably a work-a-holic, very likely sarcastic to a fault, the conservative and traditional man who -- maybe, hopefully, God you were praying right now, a man who believed in equality for both sexes and even maybe, Dear Baby Jesus please let him also believe in a woman’s right to make decisions for her own body -- Oh God you had to stop --

Him. Kyungsoo. Doh Kyungsoo -- your Darling? Ehh. Your Pookie maybe? Your sweet baboo? Little cinnamon roll baby wrapped up tight in mama’s swaddling cloth, Jesus Christ. Maybe not that far. Maybe it wasn’t an orgasm that you needed but a tranquilizer.

Your…something. Yours? Well, he was something. You knew that for a fact, at least.

That man was certainly something. The jury was still out on literally all of the rest of it.

So you were clean and you felt pretty. You had slipped on the plainest underwear and bra you happened to bring along with you. It wasn’t as if that man would be seeing any of it, and you weren’t doing it in the way that one would wash their car knowing it would increase the chances of rain that day. You were certain in the way he had resisted the sex with you in the most ironclad of ways, despite his body being ready, despite your body being ready and willing, this man was not going to see your underwear. You were also not going to pressure him into anything either. You put on the comfy set. They were for you only.

Your dinner wear was another story. This was your first real date with Kyungsoo. You should look the part.

You’d packed two evening dresses for this trip and your favorite was a sexy little cocktail dress that fit you like a glove. It had the perfect neckline that complimented your rack. It had a silhouette that made you look at least five times hotter than you thought you actually might be and it had, above all else, a skirt that was too difficult to accidentally push up any higher than mid-thigh. No, no. This was the kind of dress that required complete removal for sexy times. If you were removing it alone, or putting it on as you were right now, it required near-contortionist-level skills to get the zipper up all the way, and taking it off required equal effort. There would be plenty of grunting, some embarrassing moans, and lots of huffing and puffing. All sounds that did not invite sex, well, not unless they were happening during, which they would not be. There would be no accidental oops my dress slipped up too high, oops this counter top is just perfect for my thighs to part and for your hips to slip, and oops there’s a penis inside of me. No. None of those shenanigans would happen in this dress. This dress would be your chastity belt. You would not let him down. Also, it was red.

Your two-hour respite back to the bunks to shower and lie down turned into a shower, shave, moisturize, fragrance, then dress, coif, preen, pluck, and make-up session, and after settling on a soft and delicate make-up look as opposed to, say, a sexy, fierce look, mostly because you were running out of time and also you figured it was probably best to keep yourself far away from the dominatrix end of the spectrum for the sake of everyone involved. You did not once lie down, as you had so promised you would. You felt entirely too wound up for any sort of lengthy pauses that might lead to lengthy daydreams.

You were out the door nearly exactly 2 hours from the moment you had stepped inside and you found yourself creeping as silently as the heels allowed down the dark hallway toward that blue door, placing a now, nervous and somewhat trembling hand on the doorknob lightly as you suddenly contemplated every single choice you had made back in front of that bathroom mirror.

What if you were overdressed? You knew you’d be overdressed, this was a cocktail dress without a cocktail party in sight. This was a cobweb-covered, dusty, and dank emergency storm shelter at least 200 years past its heyday. You’d already done the makeup though. You'd already done the hair and you’d even spritzed the faintest of spritzes of your favorite scent in tiny, inoffensive spots like your inner wrists, directly behind your earlobes without overpowering your neck too much, and the tiniest dab between your breasts.

What if you were too early? What if his 2-hour time frame wasn’t an exact science? Would you wander in there and interrupt his cooking too soon, fluster him, and make him drop a saute pan or burn a flatbread? Would your arrival at the 2-hour mark down to the second freak him out somehow?

Did men find extreme punctuality in a woman attractive or off putting? You wished you had your phone on you for a quick reddit search.

You removed your hand from the door knob and you crossed your hands behind your back, taking a step backward and rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet. You should give it a few minutes. You were counting inside of your head now, doing little head nods as you counted. Five minutes should be plenty. You didn’t want to seem too eager. Maybe you should give it ten. Ten minutes could be the new 15-minute buffer most people factored into their daily schedules when figuring out what time to leave for an appointment in the morning.

You’d lost count of the seconds after a few rounds of 60 and you had to start all over around the four-minute mark.

At maybe eight minutes you put your hand on the doorknob again, just holding onto it lightly and counting inside your head like a weirdo, and forty seconds into the ninth minute you heard a shuffling sound on the other side of the door a second before you felt that doorknob turning in your hand.

You gasped out loud in surprise as the door swung open and nearly hit you and there was a similar gasping sound that came from the other side of the door as someone quickly stopped its forward motion with a hand gripped tightly around the edge of the solid metal door.

His head peaked around the side and you quickly closed up your gaping mouth, doing your best to hide the surprised look in your eyes.

“Oh,” Kyungsoo said, “here you are.”

You pulled your lips into a smile that probably looked too tense and it took only a few moments for your gaze to wander a bit over him. He had changed. He had done his hair in some sort of inhumanely attractive upward and back hairstyle with some light product and he was wearing a pretty navy blue color that complemented his skin. The shorts and plain t-shirt were gone and he was wearing jeans and Converse on his feet that looked so effortlessly cool with the outfit you were certain he’d walked out of one of your dreams featuring the sexy boy next door who had stolen your heart.

“I was going to come and look for you,” he said softly and you widened your eyes some, waving them around the space in front of you that you occupied with a change of the smile on your face. His focus was on your face at first and you knew you had to respond to him.

“You found me,” you said with just a little bit more embarrassment than you would have liked. You had to pull your lips in between your teeth to conceal the nervous perma-smile and you caught the light drift of his eyes as he noticed the effort you’d put into your look tonight.

You got a straightening of his shoulders and a hardly concealed throat clearing. He was blinking, swallowing, and his face lifted, not quite pulling his eyes all the way away from you in this dress.

“W-Wow, uhh--,” he bit down on the inside of his lip as he stepped aside at last to allow you enough room to enter this kitchen without brushing up against the length of his body as you did it. “S-Sorry, I only packed jeans. You look,” He was nodding once, then twice and you felt suddenly too nervous for this talk, “beautiful,” he whispered at last, finishing his compliment so you could finally nod your head, so you could finally let out the smile you’d been fighting the whole time, so you could open your own lips to speak.

You used your hands, lightly waving them over the length of him without touching him anywhere, of course.

“I like the jeans. And the hair. And the shirt. And the shoes. You’ve got a real ‘college heartthrob that all the girls are not-so-secretly in love with,’ you know, ‘rolled-up notes slipped into your locker from many secret admirers,’ and, ‘nasty fights in the girl’s bathroom because they all want you but your true love is music,’ kind of thing going on,” you said with a lift of an eyebrow and a playfulness in your voice that happened sometimes when you were really flustered and trying to fill in any potential silence with ridiculous nervous chatter.

Of course, saying way too much as usual; you could not help the word vomit. You were too nervous and not really able to fully look at him despite the vivid imaginary story you’d just attached to the outfit he was wearing. Instead, you wandered through the space, busying yourself with looking around the kitchen that it seemed he had cleared out some. The mattresses were all gone. There went yet another surface for the sex that would not happen.

The lights were different, some of the switches on the wall were off and you saw that he’d set up about as good a table setting as he could with the limited supplies in this place. There was a tablecloth, which you thought might be a flat sheet from one of the bunk beds, there were two place settings with wine glasses and cutlery and you could even hear the faint notes of some classical music playing from somewhere in the kitchen.

He had been silently following you through the journey and when you’d finally worked up any real nerve and risked a look over at him, he was leaning ever so slightly against the countertop with both of his hands laid flat on its surface. His eyes were closed up and he wore on his face the smallest, nearly imperceivable smile that, had you not had the last 48 hours or so’s worth of direct observation of this man’s face, you might have missed. When he lifted his head, there was an inhale and he brought his focus up and around the ceiling above his head once before all of that trapped oxygen slowly exited through his mouth.

“Umm,” he said, “Thanks.” His eyes touched yours for a tenth of a second. “I think,” he squinted his eyes, lifted a hand lightly, and waved his rounded fingertips in the air for a moment, “I think -- that was a compliment, right? Not just a made-for-TV movie you were writing just now?” He was nervous. You could see it in the pinkness in his cheeks and the way his eyes refused to sink down into yours for longer than it took to keep track of your location.

His nerves brought a smile to your face and you laughed lightly and covered your mouth with your fingertips, “Yes,” you nodded. “Yes, it’s a compliment. You look nice. Very nice.”

You could hear the nerves in your response and like a gentleman, so very unlike himself actually, he did not call attention to it. Instead, he spun on his feet and headed toward the fridge to pull out a bottle of wine. He was fumbling with the foil on top and he was digging through a drawer for the corkscrew and speaking rather quickly at the same time. “Do you want a drink? I think we should both have a drink.” And you’d never seen someone make such quick work of one of those stubborn contraptions.

You were nodding, because, yes please, and thank God. You were moving to the table to grab both of the wine glasses and he was meeting you halfway with the open bottle poised and ready to pour you giggled just a little bit when his flighty eyes touched yours and he giggled just a little bit too. He poured each of the glasses halfway full with the dark red liquid. The bottle was set down with a thud and his fingertips brushed lightly against yours when he grabbed one of the glasses, and to your absolute devastation, the most beautiful and disarming smile landed lightly on his face when you gave his glass the smallest clink with a tip of your own.

“Should we toast?” you lifted your eyebrows with the echo of the clink still hovering in the air and his glass was already touching his bottom lip. He pulled it away for a second and his eyes were wider now.

“I -- uhh, kind of just want to drink it,” his smile returned and you laughed out loud placing a hand on his arm to keep him from lifting it any closer to his lips.

“Fine, say something,” he caved and his glass was back down closer to your lifted one.

“Well now I can't think of anything,” you frowned and his lips closed up, a ripple of movement flowed through his face but you were thinking hard, trying to find something fitting to say in this situation. He waited patiently and when you gasped and smiled his eyebrows lifted expectantly.

“Oh, I got it,” you lifted the glass with a renewed confidence in your voice, “To ‘No Sex Tonight,’” you said with a wide smile, and his eyes with lifted eyebrows above them widened even further. He was pulling his lips in between his teeth, biting lightly, and making no effort to toast with you. He wasn’t opening his mouth to say the toast. You leaned your glass into his and lifted your head, shaking it and wiggling your eyebrows just a little so he could say it too.

“To--,” you began again, encouraging him to say the toast.

“To No Sex,” he said with his eyes slipping away from your face as he glanced around the room.

“Tonight,” you added and you clinked the glasses together again, making the satisfying sound and ignoring the fact that he didn’t say the last word of your toast out loud but you did take his mouthing the word ‘tonight’ as acceptable behavior.

His glass was lifted and he was draining the contents, lifting his palm to rub over the surface of his lips when was finished swallowing you took a pretty good bit of your wine into your mouth and swallowed it down, using your tongue to catch any drops of the red that may have remained.

You’d smelled the food when you first came in. With the taste of this wine on your tongue though your nose was picking up on something that you thought might pair very well with this choice. The more you could smell the hungrier you felt.

“It smells delicious in here.”

“Oh, it’s ready if we are,” He set his glass down and rounded the kitchen counter to move toward the stove which had lights on it to indicate that something was still hot and bubbling in the various pots and pans you could see.

“You can,” he had begun to grab the handles of the pans but quickly left them behind to return to where you leaned against this counter and his hand was out, pointing you toward the table setting. “You can sit here,” he followed you closely behind as you were ushered toward the spot, and before you had a chance to reach for the chair his swift hand reached first. You looked up into his pink face briefly and then simply sat down. The man was buzzing around you, bringing the wine bottle over to you for a quick refill, doing the same for his own glass which he took one more sip of before he sat it down and you watched as he left the table to go back to the stove. There were movements and sounds and clanks and clatters and soon he was returning with two small shallow bowls.

“So I,” he was already speaking before he had arrived at the table, “umm, didn’t really want to go too wild tonight. I’m not a fan of hyper-trendy gastronomics; not everything has to be deconstructed. Food can just be constructed. Plus your stomach has been hurting so I’ve gone for a more modern comfort vibe, umm--.”

You looked down at the pretty yellow-colored soup he’d placed in front of you with the contrasting swirl of white in the center. There was a side of some crusty bread that looked a bit like he might have baked too and that might have explained the yeasty smell you’d caught when you first walked into the room. He extended his hand with a palm up toward the dish he’d just given you. Then he clasped his hands together silently and he lingered, specifically not sitting down on his own side to enjoy his own starter.

“We have a browned butter, butternut squash, and apple bisque to start. It’s warm and soothing. Sweet and savory, kind of thing.” You really had never heard him speak this fast; saying quite so much. Honestly, it was filling you with bubbly giggles that you had to swallow back down. This side of him was captivating to witness. He was clearly so passionate about food that hearing him talk about it felt like having a gossip session with your bestie and being so pulled into their words that you gasped in surprise or shock or horror with each new twist. You found yourself watching his face closely as he spoke and wishing he wouldn’t stop. He talked quite a bit with his hands and you caught the smallest line of red color on his pinky finger. His hands moved too quickly for examination. He had already moved to his seat and was sitting down watching you with those hands fisted lightly in front of his face.

You lifted the soup spoon and dipped it lightly into the center of the swirl, catching some of both of the pretty colors of this thick soup and the first taste on your tongue had your eyes widening in genuine surprise. You hadn’t at all expected the depth of flavor in this. You’d kind of just expected something quite like that time you tried squash baby food on a dare but when you actually swallowed a mouthful you could taste something delightfully nutty on your tongue, something undeniably savory yet with a sweetness that went so well with the flavors. The bread, when dipped into it added a contrast in texture and you looked up into his expectant face with a tiny, but thoroughly impressed expression written in your eyes.

He hadn’t even had any of his yet. He just sat there and watched you with a very well-concealed smile behind his hands.

“Are you kidding me Doh Kyungsoo?” you said between spoonfuls and that smile widened as he bit down on his bottom lip and lifted a single eyebrow over his eye, the ‘exterior’ one, “Why the hell is this so good? It should just taste like squash but, how in the world?”

You heard the slow exhale from his lungs and he lifted his glass to hide his self-satisfied smile behind it. You heard the smallest giggle from him and he dipped his own spoon into his bowl for a small taste.

More than just being delicious it felt nice inside of your stomach. Something about his choice of vegetables, specifically nothing acidic or spicy, nothing too harsh at all but downright comforting as it warmed you from the inside. He had really made this with only you in mind. You could feel it inside, both figuratively and literally. Your stomach felt soothed with each mouthful. You reached the bottom with the smallest frown of disappointment that it was over.

Still, you were thankful that he’d only given you a reasonable amount of this soup. You were sure if you had unrestricted access to the pot on the stove you would eat too much of it and pop. As it was now, you’d finished the entire thing and he was already standing and reaching down for your bowl to clear it away.

He hardly touched his. You wondered if he’d just made this for you and if it wasn’t exactly his favorite. Maybe he’d sampled too much of it while he was cooking it.

He was busy in the kitchen again. When he returned it was time for the entree and he had a wider smile right off the bat. Clearly, your enjoyment of the soup had gotten rid of any of the nerves from earlier. Or maybe it was the wine that did it.

“Our entree tonight is braised, brown sugar, balsamic short ribs on top of, uhh, a gouda polenta,” he was placing the dish in front of you, pointing a finger at the different elements on yet another beautifully plated dish of food.

“Mushrooms instead of spinach, which I think you don't care for,” he pulled his lips tight and winced lightly as he said it with a slight upward inflection of his voice, “and I would normally do scallions on top, but you picked them off of the fish yesterday, so we have safe and harmless, microgreens instead.”

You looked across the table at him, a hand laid just over the bare skin on your chest and a genuinely surprised expression on your face. How he even knew about the spinach thing you had no idea.

“Did you change the recipe for me?”

“Of course,” he said, looking down at the dish in front of him and picking up his fork, “Why wouldn’t I?”

He asked it like you were the one dropping bombshells here.

“How did you know I hate spinach?” you took the first bite of meat with a scoop of polenta and made sure to grab some mushrooms too and you honestly felt like you could just die tonight, even without ever having sex with this man, as long as you could eat this dish from start to finish you swear to God you’d die with a big smile on your face.

Kyungsoo was chewing and swallowing, grabbing a sip of wine from his glass to clear his throat enough for a response.

“Oh uhh,” he wiped at his mouth with a napkin, “Claire’s birthday dinner at Bella Mia,” he said with an odd air of finality.

You lifted your head, mouth too full of food to speak, but after a quick swallow you leaned further, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Bella Mia, that was,” you were racing through your memory, “last year?”

His eyes dropped to the food in front of him. After a few seconds of silence he was nodding his head lightly and he lifted a tiny bit of polenta into his mouth with the tip of his fork. You went silent as you watched him and after a few seconds, his eyes looked back up into yours. He reached for the wine again, taking a small sip and you were still watching without speaking.

“How do you remember that?” you had to ask it. You simply couldn’t comprehend how one interaction at a restaurant a year ago could have led to him remembering that you didn’t like spinach. You didn't even remember the spinach from that night. You’d never order a dish with spinach in the description, not intentionally.

“I just do,” he answered and his lips hung open. You were shaking your head, still not quite getting it and he inhaled a long and deep breath, closed his eyes up, and opened his mouth to speak.

“You asked the waiter if it was possible to take the spinach out of the Spinach Lemon Ricotta Ravioli as if that isn’t the most insane request in the history of Italian food. It’s literally the first ingredient in the name of that dish.”

You had a mouthful of food and you made a face. You had no memory of this event, but honestly, it sounded like something you might do. You swallowed and you were fighting your smile. A small giggle escaped and you reached for the wine.

“I need you to understand that at those kinds of high-end restaurants, staff will come in before the sun even comes up to make the fresh pasta, the dough, the filling, the sauces are all prepped and made, some of these things cook for hours. There will be chefs arriving at 4am just to make things like the filling for your Spinach Lemon Ricotta Ravioli and you,” his words paused and his mouth froze as his eyebrows lifted and he shook his head, closing his eyes, his hand was lifted and he motioned in your direction.

You took another bite of food, thoroughly entertained by whatever you had done that he was he was complaining about,

“You,” he inhaled a deep breath, “pretty little troublemaker, so fucking cute,” the casually thrown-in compliment stopped your chewing and you felt a warmth in your cheeks but he wasn’t finished, “came in, smiling sweetly and asks this poor kid who survives on your tips if he is willing to go back into that kitchen, which, is like a warzone during peak hours and ask some type-A asshole to remove the Spinach from the 4am prepped and assembled Spinach Lemon Ricotta Ravioli.”

You were laughing. You covered your mouth and you threw your head back with it. His own smile was wide and he watched the laughter move through you until it settled and you were able to nod your head with the smallest shrug as a response. You had no defense. You must have done that at the time and he was right, you didn’t like spinach and would usually avoid it if you could.

He settled into a soft silence and his smile was gone but his eyes were on you. “I asked Claire for your number that night.”

It felt like a shock to hear this next part. You hadn’t known this. Claire had never told you. You searched his face for truth and leaned closer to him.

“You have my number?”

He nodded his head, closing his eyes lightly and licking his lips. His bottom lip was pink from the wine.

“You never used it,” you remarked and the head nodding didn’t stop. He made no claims to the opposite.

“I didn’t use it.”

“Why not?”

He looked at you with a little bite of his teeth together that you saw through his parted lips. You heard the little hiss of air that escaped.

“You scare the shit out of me.” It came out as a whisper and you pulled your face back, unable to quite believe that entirely. He didn’t act like someone who was even the least bit intimidated by you. There was nothing scary about you at all. You couldn’t even kill a spider, the thing you hated the most in the world. How in the world were you scary?

“I do?” you were shaking your head and he was nodding his head. “Still? But Kyungsoo, I’m just--”

“Still do,” his lips formed an O shape and he spoke over whatever denial you were about to voice about how very un-scary you actually were. So what if you were sarcastic and kind of mean and temperamental at times and yelled at him and called him mean names. It didn’t make any sense. None of that was scary.

“But, why?”

You lost his eyes when you asked for the reason. He looked down at the table, lifting his half-finished plate and looking over at your empty plate, he simply stood up and grabbed both of them, taking them both over to that kitchen sink where you heard the sounds of water running. He was running too.

He’d gone out of his way to avoid it. You didn’t have it in you to find out the potentially terrible truths about how he really saw you, not tonight. You were having a nice dinner and a nice date with him. You’d both been laughing and giggling and the food was so delicious and felt so nice inside of your stomach, the last thing you wanted was to ruin it by pushing him to answer something he didn’t want to answer. What you always hated the most was being pushed into something you didn’t want to do and you owed him the courtesy of respecting the things he didn’t want to do.

You wouldn't push.

The wine bottle on the counter was empty. You’d lifted it and shook it with a little frown on your lips. You could see Kyungsoo’s strong back as he moved at the sink and you slipped behind him to reach the fridge where you’d seen him pull the wine bottle from. You were pretty sure you’d seen a few more bottles in there.

The sound of the fridge door opening pulled his attention away from the dishes he was washing and he angled his torso in your direction with his wet hands still under the running water.

“I’ll get it,” he said quickly and he was rinsing and reaching for a towel.

“I got it,” you said. You already had the bottle on the counter and you had removed the foil to expose the cork. You were holding the corkscrew above the bottle, pointing it downward with the smallest push. Nothing really happened. You lifted the little arms up and down, noticing how the fat screw moved up and down too. It looked like a joyful little man with a spring for legs.

Kyungsoo was standing behind you, you felt the warmth of him at your back. His arms reached around you and you watched him grip your hand that held the corkscrew, his other hand landed over your other hand and he pulled you up so you were holding the neck of the bottle. It felt exactly like when you were his puppet and he used your body to cook a meal. Except he stood so much closer to you now. No witnesses were watching you both touch each other and you could feel so much more of his body behind you. His hand pressed yours down, corkscrew in hand and he was turning it as he pushed hard. Your wandering eyes watched the flex of his muscles in his forearm..

You felt a little bit dizzy and you could feel the effects of his closeness behind you. Your eyes drifted closed and you leaned against him. Letting your head fall back just a little bit so you could feel the weight of his head resting against your own. A low sound escaped your mouth and his breath caught audibly in his throat. His hand that was turning the corkscrew stopped its progress and he froze in place for three whole seconds before you caught the clench of his arm muscles. You’d long abandoned opening the bottle and your hand that had been so busy working had drifted up to just over your shoulder where his face was. You felt the smoothness of his cheek, the firmness in his tense jaw and when you turned your face into him, he hardly gave you any space at all for the spin within his arms and while you’d managed it you were standing so close to him that every bit of his skin was magnified. He seemed to be purposely avoiding your eyes even as you dipped your head to catch them.

“Stop it,” he whispered and you smiled when his eyes drifted down to look into yours.

“Why’d you take it away? I was doing it.”

“You weren’t doing shit,” he said with an undercurrent of humor. Behind you, he worked. He didn’t even strain with the effort, not even grunting or making any sounds to indicate that it was even a little bit difficult for him. He just effortlessly pulled the cork out behind your back. He lifted the corkscrew up with the cork still threaded through the spring. You turned to look at it, lifting an eyebrow to see the result of his efforts and he used both of his hands to lift the little arms up and down. It wiggled in his fingers.

“You were making it dance. That’s all you were doing.”

He was gripping the bottle and walking away from you, doing the cutest little sidestep in the middle of his journey toward the table. You knew, just as you had been, that he’d been a bit affected by the closeness with you just now.

Soon you had a glass filled with wine in your hand and you had this handsome man’s face back at your side. He was sipping and his eyes were still just a little bit too evasive in a way that put the smallest pout on your lips. You had an inclination that you were being just a little bit bad, but it was only a little bit. You hadn’t even kissed him earlier. You hadn’t touched him with your hands that much, very little actually, he was the one who had put his hands on you, he was the one who wrapped his arms around you and coated your back with his body and even placed his feet just within the same tile you occupied on the floor in front of that countertop. There was no reason why he needed to be stingy with his looks, just because maybe you’d imagined kissing him just now.

After a few moments, he spoke.

“Did you like it?”

You lifted your eyebrows and tilted your head, pulling the wine glass down from your lips. You swallowed and lifted your eyes to contemplate what exactly you were being asked. The fantasies about kissing his lips? Yes, you did like those. The closeness to his body? You craved more. Kyungsoo watched your thinking face and you caught the movement of his hand as he raised it up to your face, taking his thumb and lightly running it over your bottom lip. You could feel the moisture he pulled away there; a drop of wine he had wiped from your mouth for you.

“Yes,” you said in a whisper and his eyes narrowed as he looked away from you for a second.

“You did?” he lifted a single eyebrow, turned from you again, and smiled into the wine glass.

“You finished it. You must have liked it. More so than the fish last night, I think.”

“Oh, the food,” you giggled and took another sip, leaning lightly against the kitchen counter to keep your balance stable through the laughter. “Yes, the food was amazing, Kyungsoo.”

He was looking at your silly reaction with a widening of his smile. “Of course the food, what did you think I was talking about?” This man was cute when he giggled.

“I liked the fish too. It was probably the best fish I’ve ever tasted.” When your words were out his head was shaking back and forth but that smile stayed put on his pretty face.

“You sat there, painstakingly picking off every single little bit of scallion you could find on the top of that thing. Do you have any idea how tiny I cut those? Some of them were microscopic and you wouldn't even take a bite until you’d gotten everyone.”

“They weren’t that small. I’m very good with picking things out of my food that I don't want to eat, I have excellent chopsticks skills.”

“And I have excellent knife skills. I was just waiting for you to try it. And then when you did, you didn’t even say anything. A few bites, not even a head nod. Not even a smile. Do you know what that does to a man?”

You reached forward and gripped the hand that was flying around in front of him as he talked and his eyes fell down to where you held onto him. You lifted his hand and moved your fingers so that you held on tight to his pinky finger, the one with the very obvious fresh knife slice on it.

“Knife skills? Kyungsoo, you didn't even cut yourself when you were blindfolded. What is this?” you had a teasing giggle on your lips and his mouth opened once and closed back up again, clearly not expecting you to see the evidence of the small mistake he had made with the knife as he cooked dinner tonight.

“I had you then,” he said through a rough inhale of air into his lungs and he looked away from you again, sipping on the glass of wine, draining nearly the rest of the glass.

It was a good thing he claimed to have a high alcohol tolerance because you had never made such claims and you both were working through these bottles pretty quickly.

He was exhaling and he was closing his eyes, shaking his head back and forth and a rough laugh broke through.

“Do you know when the last time I cut myself during prep was?” His eyes were wild now, the smile sheepish and telling, “It’s probably been five -- ten years. I don't mess up, but you--” he inhaled again and stopped speaking for a second.

“You.” you heard him repeat it. You, the source of all of his problems. Somehow you couldn’t find any reason to be offended. “You had me all fucked up.”

“I did?” your smile was genuine. You were definitely flattered by this little confession of his. “Do you want me to put a bandaid on it?” You frowned down, not meaning the pity on your face one bit, “blow on it, maybe.” Your lips formed into a tiny ‘o’ shape and you exhaled a slow breath through your lips, lifting his hand up so his wounded pinky was positioned right in front of your lips. You felt too out of control again. You couldn't even remember the last time you felt this giddy. Or the last time you’d flirted this intensely with a man who flat-out refused to have you but definitely wanted you as badly as you did him.

It was while you held his hand that a thought came back to you. A call-back to before the kiss, before the man pulled you into him and hugged you so tightly, burrowing his face against your belly. Long before you’d even known the depths of his actual feelings for you and your mind sharpened to that thought so intently that your eyes widened with the realization. You were speaking to him before you had a chance to really think about the words you were saying. Although with the wine, you probably wouldn’t have made very many adjustments before you just started blabbing.

“Kyungsoo,” your eyes were wide and you shook his hand within yours. His attention was grabbed in an instant just because of the urgency you had in your voice. You really hadn’t even considered it at all at the time, but now, “Kyungsoo! You could have had sex!”

You said it with such shock in your voice and his wide eyes flattened and he narrowed them at you, watching your face for a long time as you simply nodded your head in excitement. He very carefully removed his hand from within yours while you were distracted.

“Scrabble, you could have spelled out ‘sex’! You had an ‘X’ Kyungsoo, an ‘X’, that is ten points! It would have sat on the triple letter score, that would have been,” You were counting in your head, lifting a finger to do little mental tabulations, “33 points! Why did you play ‘see’ when you could have had ‘sex’?”

There was something happening on his face. It wasn’t the face of a man who’d had such a grand revelation dropped right into his lap but his eyes were closing up, he was exhaling a very long breath and seemed to go on forever and he was shaking his head very shallowly as he did it. Why wasn’t he excited? He would have stood a chance against you. You frowned lightly at his disappointing reaction.

“Don't you,” he was speaking. It was coming out slowly. There was some sort of attitude in between his words, “think,” he bit down on his lip and inhaled again, “Don't you think I thought about ‘sex’?”

“I thought about it. ‘Sex’ was the first thing I thought of. The very first thing, before anything else. ‘Sex’ was there --- in my head -- the whole time.” This was a revelation to you. Why didn’t he use it if he had already considered it? Why did he play such a shitty word when he could have had a good one worth a lot of points.

“I couldn’t play ‘sex.’” He said it with a hand wave into the air in front of him. It felt very final of him to do. “Not with you.” he added with a widening of his eyes and his eyebrows lifted. He seemed just a little bit too worked up for this discussion about Scrabble. “Anyone else, yes, fine. It literally doesn’t matter. But not with you.”

“Why not with me?” It was inconceivable. He was the most competitive person you had ever met in your entire life and he wanted you to believe that he wouldn’t do anything he possibly could to beat you? Sure 33 points didn’t come close to your 50 but still, he was never going to catch up to you with a measly 5 point word. It sounded a little bit like he wanted to lose. Like he threw in the towel and threw the game.

“Because I like you -- like that,” He spoke quite abruptly and whatever protests you had planned got caught within your open mouth.

“Like sex. Like, really, really like you. Like you make me feel fucking crazy, you make me fuck up while cooking, something I don't do.”

“Like I think about you constantly and I want to see you and be near you and hear your laugh and feed you. I want you to think of me and I want you to kiss me. Like it actually scares the shit out of me, how much I like you. Because…because--,” He rubbed a hand roughly through his hair, abandoning this thought.

“So, no. I couldn’t play ‘sex.’ Not with you.”

You felt too stunned to move. You’d long since closed up your surprised mouth but you stood there looking at this man who had just confessed quite a lot to you and then he had closed up his eyes, lifted his hand to cover his eyes as he tilted his head back. You could see his eyes come open again and he looked up into the ceiling with about as much regret written all over his face as you’d ever seen.

“Oh,” you managed. It was tiny and yet he heard it and his head sank down, pink cheeks, bright red ears -- all of him. You lifted your wine glass, with the little bit you still had left, slipped a very careful hand down to rest it under his hand holding his own glass, and lifted it just a bit higher, quite surprised that he hadn’t dropped it or spilled the last few drops during his passionate speech about how much he likes you and how absolutely head over heels he was for you and how he would rather lose at something than admit just how badly he wants you; and with the smallest little tilt of your hand you hit the rim of your glass against his, letting the sound of that glass clinking note ring out clearly in the silent space between you both.

“To ‘No Sex Tonight,’” you whispered into the opening of your wine glass and you lifted it, draining the last of its contents, as you simultaneously lifted the hand that sat below his wine glass until it reached his lips and you felt him give in, raising the glass and swallowing what was left.

The silence between the two of you withstood. Neither of you said anything after the stupid toast and you cleared your throat actually beginning to feel quite desperate for something to fill in this silence. You almost couldn’t breathe in here.

“You didn’t seem to eat much,” you had to speak, even if the words were just a flimsy subject change. You had actually been interested in his odd behavior with the amazing food he had spent two hours preparing.

“Oh,” he said with a wave of his hand and a head shake, “I’m uhh, kind of sick of my own cooking.” he even had the audacity to make a face that had a tinge of disgust. You threw your face back and away from him, lifting your hand to cover your chest in absolute disbelief.

“You what?” your question betrayed the absolute disbelief you felt.

“I mean, I just can’t. Especially something that takes a long time to cook. If I’ve been smelling something for hours, sometimes it just overstays its welcome. I can’t really explain it.”

You tried to remember seeing him eating before and he did in fact seem to pick at his fish and not really eat it with the same vigor that you had devoured your filet with. But then again you remembered him with the eggs benedict. He had cleared that dish completely; you saw the empty plate and all.

“But you ate all of the eggs this morning.”

“Oh, you made that. I liked that,” he said with a hand wave. He was again, refilling his glass of wine and tipping the bottle opening to do the same for yours.

You were shaking your head, remembering how heavy of a hand he had in that dish, how vigorously he was shaking your hand to get that hollandaise sauce to reach the correct state of emulsification, and how hard it was to keep up with him as he did it.

“Kyungsoo, you just held my hands, you made it.”

“No way, That was you. I just touched you a little and showed you what to do. I helped very little in that, you did most of it. You did great. The tomatoes were a little,” he held up his index finger and thumb, “large, but I actually liked how they felt to bite into. I think I’ll start adjusting my cutting every now and then and just fucking go for it like you did.”

“Rustic, you know?” He was teasing you, you could feel it in the soft smile that had landed on his lips and you scoffed out a quick laugh.

You reached out a hand to swat at his chest and he giggled, seeing you coming he reached up to grab ahold of your hand, keeping your palm flat against his chest for a few moments.

“Do you have room?” His question was vague and of course, your mind had been focused on feeling that steady rhythm of his heart beating below the thin fabric of this shirt he was wearing. Below your palm, you could feel the firmness in his chest muscles and it took you longer than it should have to acknowledge that he spoke to you.

“Dessert?” You knew he couldn’t have been asking if you had room in your bed for him tonight because yes, yes, a thousand yes’s, he could fit beside you and inside of you and — he was nodding his head, “did you make dessert too?” you asked.

“Something very simple. We only had eggs and milk here. Crème brûlée.”

You felt the sudden excitement. It was one of your favorites! Not just because it was delicious but you absolutely loved cracking it with the spoon. You were smiling and nodding and you lifted up your hand, moving it up and down a little as if you held a spoon.

“Ooo, can I do the cracking?”

He laughed once while heading to the fridge and pulling it open.

“Yeah, let me torch it.” He pulled out two ramekins and made quick work of sprinkling sugar on top of each of them. Then he had fire. You watched him hold the fire and you were standing right beside him holding two teaspoons held up in front of your face and you watched and you waited with wide-eyed excitement. The sugar that he had sprinkled slowly began to change color and it melted and bubbled and you leaned over his shoulder to watch it.

The second the torch was off you leaned forward with a spoon outstretched.

“Wait, wait,” he was laughing harder, “you need to wait a few seconds.”

He touched very lightly on top of the toasted sugar and nodded his head twice, “Okay, go.”

You reached forward and smacked it hard. The first crack was the absolute best and you tapped the spoon again a few more times, delighted with the satisfaction you felt inside. You kept cracking until there was no more cracking to be had and he was holding his belly with laughter as he watched you do it. You felt like a child at Christmas time.

When you pulled your face back up and looked at him you had only one question for him. He was already giggling and shaking his head with his eyes closed.

“Kyungsoo,” you whined. He was nodding his head already, answering the question he already knew you were going to ask, “Kyungsoo are you going to crack yours? Can I crack yours?” You had your hands lifted into a begging posture and your spoon was still lifted, with bits of sugar from the first one still stuck to it.

“You can,” he giggled and nodded again and you wasted no time, not willing to risk that he might change his mind and regret giving you cracking permission; you hit just as hard, cracking it all over until it was completely shattered and all of the cracking was finished. You pulled your face up and smiled widely.

Kyungsoo had reached for a spoon and was dipping it into the pudding, lifting up a small bit and bringing it up to your mouth. You opened your lips and accepted the bite. Of course, it was delicious. It was sweet and creamy and expertly set. The bits of torched sugar on top added a pleasant crunch. He was dipping his spoon and taking a bite from the same ramekin as you had tried and you looked down at the other dessert, dipping your spoon and pushing another mouthful into his surprised mouth. He pulled it in, chewing and swallowing and the back and forth continued for a few more minutes until both dishes were completely empty and you simply couldn’t handle any more food tonight. You felt thoroughly done. You felt insane with the giddiness, struggling to come up with a single flaw no matter how hard you thought about it. Maybe the only regret you felt inside of your heart could be just how well-behaved you had been all night long. You hadn’t once done anything that might lead to forbidden sex that he definitely didn't want and as you watched his face, he definitely looked content to lean against this countertop and simply exist beside you in your presence.

He had said that, after all. That he wanted to be near you. To hear your laughter, to feed you.

“Kyungsoo,” you called his attention and he turned his face to you, still a little bit rosy from all the laughter but much calmer now that the wild excitement you were feeling had faded some. His eyebrows lifted and his eyes roamed around your face with the tiny hum that left his chest. You held your breath and closed your eyes.

“Do you want to be together -- with me -- in a relationship?” As soon as it was out, you felt a surge of nerves flood through your stomach. The effect was so strong and instantaneous and he seemed completely frozen in place, his eyes were still on your face and only the smallest tick of his head was his only movement. His smile and all traces of that happiness were gone in an instant. He just stared at you with a completely caught-off-guard expression in his eyes and his mouth motionless and silent.

And he stayed that way for the four, five, six deep breaths that you took, not moving a muscle and definitely not answering your question with a loud, definite, ear-bursting yes. In fact the longer his silence went on and on, there came a moment in his silence where you could no longer look at him. You had to look away and you closed your eyes up tight when you heard the inhale and the exhale that came from his lungs, but absolutely no words came out of him. Nothing. He said nothing.

You exhaled a small scoff of disbelief.

This question came too soon. You were an idiot. He liked you, sure but that didn’t mean he was ready for anything serious with you. He wasn’t even ready to give into the most basic human act of sex without being absolutely completely sure he was committed to someone and that they were committed to him. There had been a reason he hadn’t ever asked you for any sort of commitment. Not only did he not want the sex, but he didn’t want you, not really, not like that. He had told you twice about how scared he was of you. Was this why he had stood you up that night? Was this the reason why he had been so hesitant to get close to you for so long?

You shook your head and lifted your face, opening your eyes and pushing the smile to your face. You sold it so well. He was looking down at the countertop, absentmindedly picking up grains of sugar with his fingertip, moving all that had spilled into the smallest pile and you could see the conflict written all over his face.

“Sorry,” you whispered because you were sorry to him. Sorry that you had to say such an abrupt thing when he obviously wasn’t ready for anything like that. Sorry that you couldn’t be the solution to all of his worries and problems in his life. Sorry that you actually caused a few more problems for him than you meant to. You watched him, catching the drift of his eyes as he looked halfway up but he never pulled his attention completely up to you. “I understand,” you said a little bit louder. “Thank you for a lovely dinner, Kyungsoo. It was amazing. You are amazing.”

You had to leave though. You simply could not stand it here, in this atmosphere you had created with your enormous leaps. Why you simply could not control yourself, you had never been able to figure out. The worst part about you, the thing you absolutely hated the most was your flimsy self-control. It had gotten you fired when you lashed out at that bitch who baited you daily. It had led to you lashing out in anger at friends in the past. At Kyungsoo when you’d felt that he’d done you wrong. You hated everything about yourself right now. You always leaped first and asked questions later. It was the worst. You were the worst.

You tapped twice on the back of his hand, a small farewell, literally the only thing you could do besides the flimsy apology and you spun on your heels, taking very swift steps out of the kitchen, through the blue door that slammed with a heavy noise on your way through it, down the darkened hallway passed the room with the bunks and further down until you reached a dead end. There was only a big exit door here. It blurred around the edges with the tears that filled your eyes. This was the way out of this place for good.

The rain had stopped long ago and you pushed the door open, reaching the edge of the front patio and its steep steps. You sat down on the top step wishing and praying to the heavens above that the rain could start again soon because you were desperate for something to hide the tears that streamed down your face.

Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

#exo fanfiction #exo smut #kyungsoo #exo fic #kyungsoo smut #kyungsoo fic #exo story

24 notes · View notes