#i suddenly feel the urge to bake

[cocosloveletters]

The feminine urge to play Bossa Nova to purge and purify my soul

[transmascsteveharrington]

If Steve was someone to believe in conspiracy theories he might think that there is a mistletoe complot happening. Because mistletoes keep suddenly popping up everywhere, especially in places Steve could swear three seconds ago hadn't been a mistletoe. Places that always include Eddie.

"Seriously, another one?" Eddie groans just as much a helpless victim in the mistletoe coup that might or might not be happening as Steve. "Do these sprout out of your hair?"

"Who says they aren't sprouting out of your hair dude," Steve shoots back half annoyed half amused.

"Yeah, yeah fine, c'mon let's get it over with," Eddie sighs and turns his cheek. "Lay one on me, Harrington."

Steve rolls his eyes but obeys and presses his lips against Eddie's cheek. His skin is cold, as always and his stubble is a funny sensation. The thing is if it was up to them they would just shrug it off and walk away, no peck on the cheek needed. But somehow – and the number one reason why Steve thinks this might be a conspiracy – they always end up under a mistletoe when the kids or older teens are around insisting that they kiss because otherwise, that means bad luck.

"Do you really think we can afford any more bad luck," Dustin had squeaked the first time they had ended up under a mistletoe and had tried to just walk away. So for almost three weeks Eddie and Steve have been kissing each other's cheeks constantly. Of course, always ensure first that the other one is okay with the kiss. Steve's always thought that the tradition of /having/ to kiss is absolutely stupid.

"Maybe they'll stop sprouting if you properly kissed," Robin suggests while stirring up icing for the cookies the party has been baking in the Wheeler's kitchen. Steve has to suppress the urge to flip her off.

"Guess we'll have to put that theory to the test next time, don't we big boy?" Eddie laughs and Steve can feel himself blush. He blames it on the heat from the oven.

The next time comes three days later at the Hopper-Byers' house and Steve turns his head to Jonathan who looks at them expectantly and asks, "Aren't you Jewish?"

"Yeah, but mistletoes are a Roman tradition," he shrugs and stubs out his joint. He and Eddie have been smoking outside and Steve was sent outside to get them for dinner just as Eddie was being sent inside to ask if they still needed help.

"Roman, really?" Steve frowns.

"The ancient Greek called mistletoes oak-sperm," Eddie grins his hands already grabbing Steve's shirt and pulling him closer.

"Ugh, gross dude," Steve complains but still leans in and closes the distance between them, this time an innocent peck on the lips. When they let go Steve thinks that for a second he might have spotted disappointment in Jonathan's eyes.

He finds out later in the evening why. He and Eddie have just finished washing up like they both offered, Steve washing, Eddie drying and are about to return to the Hopper-Byers' living room when they hear Dustin whisper-shout, "It's like they don't even want to kiss."

"I told you this idea was stupid," Max murmurs. "They're not gonna admit to being into each other like this."

"I think we should just keep trying," Robin, the traitor adds, and Steve can hear the amusement in her voice.

"Wow, looks like we have been party entertainment," Eddie whispers next to Steve.

"Yeah, I can't believe it...actually, I can," Steve says before he gets an idea. "Wanna get back at them by traumatizing them a little?"

"I like the way you think, Harrington."

So next time they get caught under a mistletoe they don't go in for a chaste kiss. Instead, they kiss like men starving, with tongues, teeth, wandering hands, and badly muffled moans. Steve isn't quite sure it still counts as PG-13 but it's the shitheads' own fault. They are slightly out of breath when they part. It's worth it though the kids look like they walked in on their parents kissing. Steve had to suppress a laugh.

"Hope that might finally ward them off," Steve says, hoping his knees aren't shaking too obviously. "This was fun, but I have a date to wine and dine, so see you little shitheads tomorrow."

"Seriously, you have a date?" Dustin gawks. "After...after...after..."

"After what, Henderson?" Steve grins, knowing Dustin can't say anything without giving their whole plot away.

"After this long day?" Dustin tries to save himself.

"That's why I'm hoping my date is gonna stay over," Steve says, earning another groan from everyone before he leaves.

A few hours later once the wining and dining has happened and Steve and his date have cuddled up on the couch his date turns their head and gently nuzzles into the crook of Steve's neck.

"You know they're gonna think they are the reason we got together," Eddie says and presses soft kisses down Steve's throat.

"We got together literally a month before the mistletoes happened," he says and pulls Eddie closer.

"I know," Eddie hums, "but you know how cocky Henderson is. He won't care."

"I guess," Steve mumbles as Eddie plants another kiss on his cheek. "It's kinda nice though. That they did this, that they don't mind."

"Yeah," Eddie agrees softly. "But they are gonna regret it once we tell them and start kissing without any mistletoes present."

Steve laughs before he gently cups Eddie's face.

"We should practice how to traumatize them more then," he grins.

"Yeah, we should," Eddie says before he closes the distance and once more kisses Steve so heated it makes the fire in front of them feel cold.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

katsuki’s been hovering around you for about 6 minutes now.

you had decides on a whim you wanted to bake some cookies, and since the holidays were coming up, now was the perfect excuse to. you were soon joined in the dorm kitchen by your grouchy boyfriend, who had just come back from his morning run.

you explained you were in the mood for cookies and he responds with a grunt. but then he proceeds to stay in the kitchen, awkwardly standing around looking at the cupboards and utensils like this is the first time he stepped foot in a kitchen before.

he then proceeds to just hover around behind you, staring over your shoulder like a child waiting to see if the cookies were done yet. you found it cute at first, but that constant scowl and scrutinizing look on his face makes you feel like you’re doing something wrong, and frankly it’s making you a little nervous and baking cookies should not be nerve racking !

“would you stop doing that ? i know what i’m doing” you snap your head to squint at him and he stiffens like he’s been caught, like he was being even remotely close to sneaky to begin with, which he wasn’t.

“m’not doin’ anything” he mutters defensively, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweats. “just lookin’ atcha. m’i not allowed to ?” he leans in so his nose is almost touching yours, that stupid little handsome smirk on his lips as his eyes fixate themselves on your lips before looking back up. you gulp, then you place your hand on his face and push him away lightly “you’re distracting me” you mutter, feeling your face grow hotter. he chuckles to himself before turning on his heels and leaning again the countertop.

it’s quiet for a second before you feel like calling him out as payback for teasing you “ is there a reason you’re still here ? you wanna lick the batter or something?” you quip teasingly and you snort when his face morphs into one of disgust “hell no.” he scoffs, looking at you before looking down at the batter you’re currently mixing the shit out of, screw whoever broke the mixer. “how long are ya gonna keep mixing that ?” his eyebrow raises in question

“until it’s good” you huff, taking a break from mixing to keep your fingers from cramping up. then you suddenly get an idea

“oh, suki~” you sing turning to look at him. he eyes you suspiciously, crossing his bulky arms across his chest and grunting out a suspicious “what do you want ?”

“well~” you start walking towards him, proceeding to wrap your arms around his middle and give him your best puppy eyes. his doesn’t budge but he squints at you even harder and you can basically feel him cave already “what?” he urged again.

“since you’re oh, so strong and handsome, could you please do me a favor and mix the batter for me, my handsome boyfriend?” you give him your sweetest smile and he scoffs, “what the fuck does being handsome even have to do with it ?”he mumbles. pink dusts his cheeks and he looks away from you, already feeling his resolve crumbling at your shallow praise. he hates how easily he gives in to you sometimes. you squeeze at his waist, he grunts “thought you said i was distracting you.”

you’re pouting at him, he sees it from the corner of his eye and he’s this close to blowing up. “that was before. you’d be helping me out lots now if you did this for me” you’re relentless, standing on your tippy toes to lean in close to his face cus he won’t stop leaning further away from you.

he could very easily just shove you off if he wanted to, but you have a feeling he doesn’t want to. you know he doesn’t want to when he closes his eyes shut and his eyebrows furrow and then he groans, letting his hands fall at his sides limply before glaring at you. “gimme the damn bowl.” he growls. you squeal, pressing kisses all over his face and a finisher one right on the tip of his red scrunched up nose, he grunts at you but gives you a light pat to the back, rubbing his warm hands up and down your spine. then he pinches you, you giggle. “thank you ‘suki.” he responds with a “yeah, yeah whatever.”

he grabs the bowl from your hands starts mixing..hard. letting off his aggression on the bowl like it was at fault for his weak will to deny you. you smile to yourself and turn to the cupboard so you could grab the decorations and of course, the chocolate chips.

you watch for a bit as your boyfriend mixes away, you’re watching how his toned arms flex and how the muscle of his arms tightens and tenses up, more specifically. one thing’s for sure, you’ll never get tired of his arms. you quickly turn away before he can catch you staring and teases you again.

you jump when he calls for you not even a second later “s’this good?” he asks gruffly, leaning forwards to show you his work. you feel your face warm as you squeak out a curt “yeah, looks good !” before taking the bowl back from him and turning right back around to reach for the baking sheet you had prepped. he’s none the wiser for a moment before a knowing grin crosses his face, he shakes his head.

you place everything down on the counter and sigh happily to yourself, feeling accomplished. you walk over to your grumpy boyfriend and place a sweet kiss to his cheek “you’re the best.” he clicks his tongue, muttering out a “tell me something i don’t know.” while the pink on his cheeks grows darker, you let out a giggle.

“you done with this ?” he asks lifting the spatula in the air for you to see, you offer him a simple “mhm” and a smile before turning back to the task at hand and watch from the corner of your eye as he places the spatula in the sink.

not before taking a lick of the excess batter still on it.

your head shoots up and you stare, he stares back. then you let out a loud belly laugh and clutch your stomach “so you were just here to lick the batter !” katsuki only grunts. there’s a light smirk on his face as he licks away a speck of cookie dough batter off his lips. he shrugs, walks up to you and places his head on your shoulder.

“figured i deserve a little somethin’ for my hard work.” you roll your eyes. his hold on you tightens and he huffs, trying to get as comfortable as he can while still standing up as he simply watches work.

“hmm..” you decided to humor him “ you did help a lot, i think i can give you a little more" you look at him from your shoulder just in time to catch his eyebrow raise as he registers what you said, a smirk playing on his lips when he does. he readjusts his head to look you in the eyes.

“yeah ?”

“mhm..” you hum. his grip tightens, his hands feel warmer.

“whaddya have in mind then, huh ?” he whispers. he’s so close and you can smell your body wash, probably because he keeps stealing it but you keep quiet about that for now.

“i dunno..” you trail off shyly, your confidence melting away under his smoldering gaze. “would…a smooch suffice ?” you giggle. he chuckles to himself at your choice of words. he grabs the back of your head softly, pulling you in closer until your noses brush against each other and he gives you a half hearted little eskimo kiss, you giggle and he smiles a little wider.

“s’a good start” he concludes before pressing his lips to yours.

[sku-nk]

I've been inspired Skunk. Do you lnow that TikTok trend where it's like "When they're all up on my girl in public but she thinks they're just being friendly" and it's that audio that's like COME HERE.

Can I request that.

Come Here.

Synopsis: Some guy's getting a little too close for comfort. Unfortunately for Sam, you're oblivious to it.

Warnings: Language, jealous Sam, Not really controlling but bossy Sam, Just funny shit

A/n: i got your other ask clarifying who u wanted :))

Nothing is ever simple. Never.

Actually, there are a few things that are simple. A lot even. Things that are exactly as they're supposed to be, things that never have any extra complications.

With you nothing is ever simple. there has to be at least billion things that actually prove themselves to be what they should be, yet anything regarding you just can't be one of those things.

Like shopping.

It was supposed to be a boring little shopping trip. It was supposed to be quick. Pick up some things you need around the house, stuff you've ran out of and stuff you've suddenly realized you need. Maybe convince Sam to take you to Victoria's Secret and leave a dent in her wallet.

Honestly, Sam would prefer that to what's going on instead. She'd prefer anything over this. Like sleeping in, or watching a movie, or maybe punching that dude who's got his hand on your back.

What's worse is that you don't even seem to realize what he's doing. You've clearly been standing there for a while now, speaking to some stupid guy with a stupid chain and an even stupider fake deep voice.

At first Sam didn't even know where you were, you'd just wandered off. She'd assumed you were going to get something else on the list. When she caught up to you, finding you at the other end of the baking isle, she wished she'd followed you.

"Just need to start looking right, you know?" This guy says, standing much too close for comfort. "Pull a ten, maybe."

You nod, smiling. "I'm sure you will, Ryan," you say politely.

Sam can see the way his eyes rake over you, the look on his face so clearly filled with want it's actually ridiculous you're oblivious to it. Then again, you always have been. That's how you were with her.

"Shit, if I was like you, I wouldn't need to do all this. But you're just mad pretty," Ryan says, laughing for whatever reason. You're smiling kindly but Sam's got what's probably the dirtiest of looks on her face.

"Oh, thank you," you smile. Sam rolls her eyes. This dude's not your friend.

"Y/n," she says, making her presence known. Your eyes widen and an even bigger smile graces your face, head whipping in the direction you heard the voice. Ryan looks too, though his face is more curious than anything.

"Sammy," you say, as Ryan's hand drops from your back. Sam feels herself let out a breath despite the fact that you're still a little too close to this guy.

"Come here," she says, arms crossing.

"Hold on, this is Ry-" you begin, pointing at the guy who's now a good two and a half feet away, though you don't get the chance to finish.

"Come here." Sam points at the ground in front of her.

You tilt your head, glancing between Ryan and Sam, but you don't protest. You make a face, something between confusion and annoyance. Sam doesn't notice, or else she doesn't care.

"Now," she says, something in her voice possessing an odd sort of finality. You let out an exaggerated sigh and glance at Ryan, who seems to be just as confused as you.

"Sorry, Ryan," you say as you speed up. For some reason, this causes Sam to sigh and roll her eyes again.

She's irritable all of a sudden, you think. She shoots the not so poor guy a look, a look that has him stepping back even further.

"Let's go," she says impatiently as her eyes land on you, urging you to hurry up. You give her a look of your own.

"Why'd you do that?" you ask, despite the fact that you're doing exactly as she's told you to, glancing back like that dude's actually stupid enough to still be standing there. Sam grabs your sleeve and pulls you little closer even though it really doesn't benefit her in the slightest (besides making her feel better) and leans onto the cart.

" 'Cause I did. When you're shopping, you're shopping with me," she tells you, tone suggesting that you doing otherwise is an insult or something alike. "Not some weird ass dude."

"Ryan's not weird-"

"He's weird!" Sam cuts in, throwing a hand up. "Weird and wants you. You're with me, you're shopping with me."

You almost laugh. It's funny. What is she even talking about? Ryan wants you? That guy you just met? Sam notices your little smile out of the corner of her eye and scoffs.

"It's funny 'till he wants a smooch," she says, dead serious.

That does it.

You can't hold it any longer. You burst into a fit of giggles, smacking Sam on the arm. "He was being nice, relax," you laugh, as Sam rolls her eyes for the millionth time.

"He doesn't need to, he's being a little too nice."

"It's not that deep, I promise!" you tell her, grin unwavering.

"It's always that deep! Everybody wants you! All the time! I do!" Sam shoots back, instinctively straightening up as you grab the cart, shaking your head and beginning to push it down the isle. She nearly pulls her hair out when you start fully laughing at her again.

"Made me forget what I was over here for," you say to yourself as Sam follows behind you, saying something about the elderly crossing guard across the street checking you out.

"So you need to stay with me all the time!"

I dunno how to end this guys

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

A flock of elephants

Written for the November warm-up round of the @steddieholidaydrabbles

Prompt: Bakery AU

Rated: T

CW: some sexual tension and innuendo

Tags: Baker Steve, Rockstar Eddie

Notes: Can be read as a continuation of this microfic

“You don't understand how huge a deal this is, Steve,” Dustin says. He’s wiggling in the passenger seat, trying to take in every bit of their surroundings as they pull up to the concert hall. 

Steve huffs and squints at the signs. There's security and fans and staff everywhere and he can feel a headache coming up. 

"A guy asked me to bake a cake, so what? It's literally what I do for a living, nothing-" 

"A guy asked you to-" Dustin sputters. "Excuse me, what did you say? Eddie Munson commissioned you to bake a replica of his world famous Warlock, do you have any- Do you even know who Eddie Munson is?" 

"Of course I know," Steve grouses. "I don't live under a rock." 

"Oh yeah?" Dustin levels him with an unimpressed look. "Name one of his songs." 

"Please," Steve rolls his eyes. "You're blasting that shit on repeat, it's practically seared into my brain. Especially the one about the elephants." 

Dustin stares at him. Steve resists the urge to pinch his nose.

"You know the one! What was it? Flock of Elephants?" 

Dustin crumples into the car seat and slaps both palms to his forehead. "It's A Court of Sycophants, Steve! Oh my God!"

"Synchro-what?" Steve ignores the way his neck prickles and takes a sharp right. "You just made that up. Now help me look for the delivery entrance or we won't have ourselves a deal at all." 

*

Once they find the entrance, it turns out he forgot the ID badge that the label sent, because of fucking course he did. He spends about half an hour trying to convince the grumpy security guard to let them in while Dustin has a complete meltdown. Just as he's ready to give up, they're rescued by the appearance of a tiny blonde in a pink cardigan who cheerfully introduces herself as Eddie’s manager. 

"Sorry about Hop," she says for what must be the fourth time, while Steve sets up the guitar-shaped cake at the center of the buffet and Dustin inspects the backstage lounge with awestruck eyes. "He takes his job very seriously." 

"Yeah, I noticed," Steve mutters. She seems nice enough, but he really doesn’t wanna engage in smalltalk right now. The bustle of the stage hands and the hot air of the venue are making him squeamish. All he wants to do is get this over with and go home.

Unfortunately fate must hate him, because that is the exact moment that a familiar voice says, "Hey, Chris. No matter what Hop tells you, I didn't order hookers to the venue. I dunno where he got the-" 

Dustin starts squealing. 

"Oh my God, you're Eddie Munson!"

Eddie squints at him like a confused cat. 

"Last time I checked, yeah. And you are?" 

"Dustin," says Dustin, like that explains everything. "I'm with Steve." 

Eddie’s eyes flit over and his face breaks into a delighted, dimpled smile. 

"Baker boy, hi!" 

Steve's mouth goes dry. 

He doesn’t know why, but all of the easy confidence of their last meeting is suddenly gone. 

Maybe it's because they were in the bakery, on his own turf, and now they're on Eddie’s, where the lights and the noise and the hum of the crowd in the auditorium are grating on his nerves. 

Maybe it's because last time, Eddie looked like just some guy in his ripped jeans and ratty hoody, unwashed hair piled in a chaotic bun, and now …

… now he's in a pair of leather pants that are so tight they may as well be spray-painted on and what looks like a fucking harness, hair cascading around his face and shoulders in a halo of messy curls and is that eyeliner? 

"Woah," Eddie breathes, eyes growing large, and yup, eyeliner. Definitely eyeliner, Jesus fucking Christ. With two long strides of those impossibly long legs, he's beside Steve and ogling the cake with an awestruck face. "This is fucking incredible, dude, it looks just like the real thing. You did all that from the photos?" 

By some miracle, Steve manages to channel the incoming blush into a sly pop of his hips and a smug eyebrow quirk. 

"Told you I was the best." 

Eddie is looking at him like he didn't bake a cake but hung the moon, which … in combination with the eyeliner and the leather and the harness of it all? Steve squirms in his jeans.

"Okay, erm … if that's all, I'll send over the bill by-" 

"Wait, what? You're not staying for the show?" Eddie swivels to Chrissy, all righteous indignation. "Why are they not staying for the show?" 

Chrissy shrugs, at the same time that Steve says, "That's really not necessa-" 

"We'd love to stay!" 

Dustin shoves himself between them, elbowing him in the kidneys. While Steve is still coughing, Eddie turns to Chrissy. 

"Show the young man to the backstage area, Chris?" 

Dustin looks like he's about to die of happiness, so Steve resigns himself to his fate. 

"Will you play the one about the psychopaths?" he asks as they trail after him. "It's his favorite." 

"Psycho-" Eddie’s brow wrinkles.

"Sycophants, Steve!" Dustin hollers from ahead. "Jesus!" 

"Anyways," Steve says over Eddie’s rumbling laughter. "You really didn't have to-" 

"I know I didn't." Eddie accepts his guitar - the real one - from a stage hand and slings it over his shoulder. "But I saw what you're best at, so I figured I'd return the favor." 

"Careful there," Steve huffs. "All you've done is ogle my cake. You may wanna try it first." 

"Oh, I'm planning to …" Eddie's smile is sharp as he leans in, close to his ear. "Preferably with less people around, though." 

And then he's gone, stepping out on the stage, making his guitar wail. 

Steve can't quite tell if the roar in his ears is the crowd or the sound of his own blood.

[luvsturniolo]

hii, i love your writing sm ! if it's not too much to ask, could you please do a fic where the reader is matt's girlfriend and he dresses her up in his clothes partly as a joke but also because he thinks it would be cute. i just keep imagining the reader wearing his t-shirts or button up's and baggy jeans/jorts and she's trying to wear his shoes but they're too big on her and matt's just DYING at it. basically just a super cute, fluff moment. thank you sm!

— ★ !! wardrobe

pairing : matt sturniolo x fem!reader

synopsis : while casually hanging out, matt has the bright idea to dress you up in his clothes as a joke. but he's quickly taken aback when he sees you in them.

a/n : wait this request is so cute , i hope i do it justice 😭

wc : 0.6k

you've been dating matt for a few months now and his house has quickly become your favorite place. it's so relaxing in comparison to your own.

earlier today, you were overtaken with boredom. so you texted matt, asking him you pick you up. of course, he agreed. you've been lounging around his house for an hour or two, basking in the comfort that comes with being in your boyfriend's presence. 

you guys have watched a few movies, baked a pizza, and simply enjoyed being together. 

you're currently lying on matt's bed, scrolling through your instagram feed while he sits at his desk, writing something down in his journal.

despite not doing anything productive, neither of you could ever get sick of this. you've both come to realize that simply being together —even if it's boring to an outside perspective — is both of your guys' favorite thing to do.

suddenly, matt's head perks up at a random thought. you glance over in his direction to see him already looking at you with a wide smile on his face.

you laugh, "what?"

"nothing, nothing." he replies easily. "i just had a random idea that could be fun."

"well, let's hear it." you say, setting your phone down on the mattress beside you. you turn your full attention to matt as you urge him to tell you his idea.

he sets his pen in the crease of his notebook and before closing it, the pen becoming a bookmark so he can continue to journal later.

"what if," he begins, "you let me dress you up?"

"dress me up?" you repeat, laughing at the strange request. "my clothes are at my place and, no offense, but i don't think yours would fit me."

"exactly." matt says. "the fact that they won't fit is what'll make it so fun to do."

you tilt your head at him, still a little bit confused as to what's going on in his mind. 

matt gives you a grin before standing up from his chair and walking over to his closet. he opens the doors and begins rummaging through random clothing articles.

before long, he settles on a pair of his jean shorts and a baggy hoodie. he holds them up to show you his choices and you laugh.

"matt, that hoodie is too large for you. it's gonna completely engulf me." you tell him.

"pleaseeeeeee!" he pleads. "just try it on. it'll be funny!"

you breathe out a laugh before getting up from his bed and taking the clothes out of his hands. you leave his room and enter the bathroom. you strip out of your current clothing and replace them with matt's.

you look down at yourself and scrunch your eyebrows at your appearance. why is matt so interested in seeing you wear his clothes? in your eyes, you look extremely goofy.

regardless of how you feel, you reenter his bedroom and do a dramatic twirl to show off your outfit.

"cute, huh?" you ask him with a laugh. but matt doesn't respond. he's too busy staring at you — almost as if he genuinely thinks you look half decent. 

"yes." matt finally replies, completely serious about his answer. you give him a weird look, waiting for him to laugh or say it's a joke. but he doesn't. he just keeps staring.

"wait, for real?" you ask.

matt looks you in the eyes before stepping closer to you, "you look adorable, y/n. for real."

he takes your face in his hands, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on your lips. you can feel him smile against your lips and you get an unreal amount of butterflies from the tiny gesture. 

when the kiss is broken, he continues to cup your cheeks as he admires every indivual feature of your face.

"you're so weird." you tell him.

"maybe," he agrees, "but you like my weirdness."

you tip your head upward to kiss him again before saying, "yeah. i really do."

tags : @kasqnxx @lvrsparadise @prettysturniolo @strniolo @urmyslxt @uhnanix @cupidsturniolo @opheliaofficial07 @thetriplets3 @sturn1olo-ffics @deadxrx @kitaysworld @slaysturniolo

[valkyriexo]

Hey Val

Can you please write about Chan comforting you during a thunderstorm? I have a fear, and sometimes I think it's really stupid, but I think Chan would be so comforting? thank u!!

You're Scared of Thunderstorms | Bang Chan

ᑉ³pairing; Bang Chan x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Fluff

ᑉ³warnings; Thunderstorms, Anxiety

ᑉ³Authors Note; Hope you all enjoy :) thank you for the request!

It was a quiet, peaceful evening. You were nestled comfortably in your bed, the soft glow of the television casting a warm light across your cozy bedroom. The rain pattered gently against the windows, creating a soothing backdrop to your movie night.

Your bedroom was your sanctuary. The walls were painted a soft, calming color, and your bed was piled high with plush pillows and a thick, fluffy comforter. You had a cup of hot cocoa on your bedside table, its warmth radiating through the mug.

You were watching your favorite feel-good movie, a romantic comedy that never failed to lift your spirits. The lead had just confessed his love for the girl in a beautifully lit park, and you couldn’t help but smile at the screen.

Just as the movie reached a heartwarming climax, the power suddenly went out. The television screen went dark, and the room was plunged into darkness. The comforting hum of the appliances ceased, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt a wave of unease wash over you.

Moments later, a loud crack of thunder split the air, followed by a flash of lightning that illuminated the room for a split second. The storm had arrived in full force, and you hadn't checked the weather. Your pulse quickened, and a wave of panic surged through you. You pulled the comforter up to your chin, trying to calm your racing heart, but the ominous rumbling and flashes of lightning outside only intensified your anxiety.

The house, which moments ago had felt like a safe haven, now seemed oppressive and dark. Each burst of thunder resonated through the walls. You tried to take deep breaths, but each one felt shallow and ineffective. Memories of past storms played in your mind—times when the thunder seemed endless, when you felt helpless and small against the raging elements.

Your fear of thunderstorms had roots deep in your childhood. You remembered one night in particular, when a fierce storm had knocked out the power for hours. You had been alone, hiding under your bed, every thunderclap feeling like it would shatter the world around you. Even now, as an adult, the raw terror of those nights lingered, resurfacing with every storm.

Another crash of thunder jolted you, and you found yourself trembling uncontrollably. The flashes of lightning seemed almost to mock your fear, each one revealing the room in stark, harsh relief before plunging it back into darkness. You felt trapped, as though the storm was pressing in on you from all sides, leaving no escape.

You tried to focus on the small, comforting details of your room—the scent of lavender, the softness of your pillows—but it was no use. The storm was all-consuming. Tears formed at the corners of your eyes, and you fought the urge to cry. 

Just then, you noticed a flash of light, but this time it wasn't from the storm—it was from your phone. You picked it up with shaking hands and saw a series of messages from Chan.

You took a deep breath, feeling a small surge of comfort from his concern. With trembling fingers, you typed a response.

You took a deep breath, trying to focus on Chan's words. The memory of that day in the kitchen brought a small smile to your face. You remembered the warmth of his arms around you, the sweet scent of cookies baking, and the sound of your laughter mingling with his. It was a happy, safe memory. But another loud thunderclap quickly snuffed out any relief you felt.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you felt paralyzed with fear, unable to move or think clearly.

Your phone buzzed again, the screen lighting up with another message from Chan.

You hesitated for a moment, your hands trembling, before finally pressing the call button. The phone rang twice before Chan's voice came through, calm and reassuring.

"Hey, baby, it's okay. I'm right here," he said softly.

"Chan," you whispered, your voice shaking.

"I'm coming over," he said firmly. "I can't leave you alone like this."

"But what about your dinner plans?" you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and guilt.

"They can wait. You're more important," he replied without hesitation.

"No... Please don't cancel your plans because of me," you said, your voice wavering as you tried to sound brave. "It's gonna make me feel worse. It's just raining... It's just rain... I can do this." The words felt hollow, but you forced them out, shaking with fear. "I can be alone... Go with your friends."

Another super loud thunderclap struck, reverberating through the house and shaking the walls. You shrieked in fear, tears streaming down your face as you clutched the phone tighter, your whole body trembling.

"Baby, I know you're scared," Chan's voice was filled with concern. "I promise you're safe. It's just a storm, and you're inside. Nothing's going to happen to you."

"But the house is shaking," you cried, your tears blurring your vision as the fear threatened to overwhelm you.

"I know it's scary, but I swear you're safe. Just hang on a little longer. I'm almost there," he reassured you, his voice steady and comforting. "Just keep talking to me. You're doing great. Remember, it's just a storm. You're safe inside."

Another crash of thunder made you flinch, and you felt tears falling from your eyes. "I can't... I can't do this," you choked out.

"You can, baby. You're so strong, and I'm so proud of you. Just a little longer, okay? Remember when we went to that carnival, and you were so scared to go on the Ferris wheel? But you did it, and we had the best time. This is just like that. You can do this," Chan said, his voice gentle and encouraging.

The minutes stretched on like hours as you waited, every crash of thunder making you jump. You tried to focus on Chan's voice, his calm, steady words keeping you tethered as the storm raged outside.

"I'm going to use the spare key to come in, okay? Don't be scared. It's just me." Finally, you heard the sound of the front door opening and closing. Relief washed over you as you realized Chan was here. You heard his footsteps coming down the hallway, and then he was there, standing in the doorway of your bedroom, his presence instantly calming you.

Without hesitation, Chan sprinted across the room and scooped you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. "It's okay, baby. I've got you," he murmured.

You clung to him, burying your face in his chest as the tears flowed freely. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your cheek was grounding, and you felt the storm's hold on you beginning to loosen.

Chan kissed the top of your head and rubbed your back in slow, comforting circles. "I'm here now. You're safe. Nothing can hurt you when I'm with you," he whispered, his breath warm against your hair.

Another clap of thunder rumbled through the house, but this time, it felt distant, less threatening with Chan's arms around you. He rocked you gently, his presence a fortress against the storm.

"Listen to me, baby," Chan said, his voice right by your ear. He tilted your head slightly so his mouth was close to your ear, and you could feel his breath against your skin. "Focus on my voice. Just listen to me." His words were deliberate, each one spoken to cover the sound of the thunder.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I'm sorry, Chan. This fear is so stupid. I shouldn't have pulled you away from your friends."

"Hey, hey," Chan interrupted gently, his voice soft and filled with love. "Don't apologize. This isn't stupid. Your feelings are never stupid."

"But I—" you started to say, but he shushed you softly.

"Shh, listen to me. There’s nothing to be sorry about," he reassured you. "I love everything about you. Your fear of thunderstorms doesn’t change that. It’s part of who you are, and I love every part of you."

Another roll of thunder echoed outside, but Chan’s voice kept you anchored. "I love how you light up when you talk about your favorite books. I love how kind you are to everyone, even strangers. I love your laugh, your smile, the way you make me feel when I’m around you."

His voice was steady, filled with a sincerity that melted your anxiety. "I love how you make me cookies when I've had a long day, how you remember the little things that make me happy. You make my life so much better just by being in it."

"I love how brave you are," he whispered, his lips close to your ear. "Even when you don't feel it, you’re stronger than you know."

You gripped onto his shirt for dear life, your fingers clutching the fabric as if it were a lifeline. You nodded against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

"I’m here, baby," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "And I’ll always be here. You never have to face anything alone. Not thunderstorms, not anything. I love you, exactly as you are."

The storm outside continued, but with Chan’s arms around you and his loving words filling your ear, it felt like a distant worry. You snuggled closer to him, feeling the warmth of his love and the safety of his embrace.

"I'm so lucky to have you," you whispered back, your voice filled with gratitude.

"And I'm lucky to have you," Chan replied, his voice full of warmth. "Now and always."

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[unluckilyimnot]

Listen, sooo...

I just saw a really cute tiktok and what would you say about the furin boys buying flowers, a little heart and this stuff as a suprise because she/they/...(?) Often baked something for him for example and when they give the gifts to their partner they start crying but like happy tears.

Like the previous partners didnt care enough for romance and this gesture is making them like really happy.

Hope you have a nice morning/day/night ♡

Gifts - sakura, suo, nirei, umemiya

m.list | rules

Note: hiii you're the first person to ask with them I'm so happy hihi that's very very cute and I like those kinds of base thank you so much!! Suo is maybe a bit ooc I'm sorry

Sakura

Sakura spent a lot of time in front of that stupid flower shop before finally getting in and finding what he was looking for.

For the past few weeks, his mind was busy with you and all the things you do for him without getting anything in return. That's when Suo and Nirei suggested to get you flowers as a gift, to show that he cared as well.

But Sakura never had to do anything like this and he was now waiting outside your school, a few meters away from the entrance, with a small but cute bouquet.

He could feel the gaze people were sending him and did his best to ignore it, reminding himself how it's important for you, so he doesn't have to be embarrassed of it.

When he finally catches sight of you walking out, he rushes to you. Trying his hardest to hide it behind his back to surprise you. Your eyes widened when he tended to you, looking away shyly, urging you to take it already.

"For the cookies you make all the time... We all love it. And, wait hey !"

The time his eyes fell on you again, tears built up in your eyes and were almost falling down your cheeks. He almost lost his grip on the bouquet in the rush to check on you, panic rushing through his body.

Why were you crying suddenly? Wasn't it supposed to make you smile?

He felt betrayed for a second before he noticed the smile on your lips. Shaking your hand to him to try to calm him you ended up giggling at his reaction.

"It's nothing, don't worry it's beautiful !" You said, as if you read his mind. "My previous partner didn't really care... so I'm just emotional."

His face softened and he got closer, pushing it into your hands this time.

"You shouldn't cry over this. I'll get you something better next time" he speaks his mind with a blush all over his cheeks. He looked away, not bold enough to stare at you after saying something like this. And you're reminded why you fell I'm love with him.

Suo

Suo notices for sure all the efforts you put in baking, or even cooking for him, and the gentleman that he has to pay you back. And make you feel as loved as he does every time he realizes the time you spend just to make him happy.

That's why on this Saturday, he arrived at your grandparents' place for your usual date with gifts in a bag.

You smiling at him makes his life easier and he's scared he's not doing enough to show you that. Keeping your pace with you, he still greets your grandma in the living room before going to your room.

As you sit on your bed, ready to tell him to join you, he tends you the bag with both hands.

"It's for you." He smiles, taking a close look at your reaction. "For all the things you do for me."

He didn’t know what he was expecting, but seeing you crying as the emotion got complicated on your face and you opened all the small gifts he got you wasn't on the list for sure.

You mumble something he couldn't get, about your ex but that's the only words he heard. Finally taking a seat next to you, he took your hands on his while brushing away your tears.

"I didn't hear you, my dear, what did you say ?"

"My ex never cared about that, so I'm just a bit overwhelmed," you sniffed why leaning slightly in his touch. You swear you could see his eyes softened as if he was already looking at you like the most precious things in the world.

Leaning in to kiss your lips, you could feel him smile, before he rested his forehead against yours.

"I have to make it up for that then."

 Nirei

"(Name) !" You jolted in surprise by the loud voice you know too much suddenly screaming.

Nirei has been looking for you all day, not remembering you mentioned you were busy helping Kotoha today. When it came back to his mind, you were on a break, taking a coffee with her. Both of you turned surprised to him but soon smiled at his relaxed expression. He must have run around the town just to find you.

“What are you carrying Nirei ?” asked Kotoha, laying a bit more on the counter. “It seems heavy. It’s from the citizens ?”

“Not at all ! Well, part of it no.” he giggled, a small blush showing up. He walked to you who hasn't spoken a word for the moment and handed the small, white bag to you. “It’s for you !”

Your eyes widened and you looked at him as if he was some kind of alien. For you ? 

“Me ?” The look in your eyes tells him all he has to know but he only nodded at you. 

“Yep, for all the time you baked for me !” 

Carefully taking the bag, you found all types of little things, from candy, charms for your phone to a new necklace and a card with a small note on it. As you looked at all those things you like so much, you felt tears coming to your eyes, burning a little, before your eyes fell on the note. You choked on your laughter and looked up to not ruin your makeup. 

Covering your face with your hand, you finally got up to take the very much puzzled Nirei. He was probably thinking of what he had done wrong, even though you were just so happy about it. 

“Thank you so much, Nirei. I never thought you’d love it so much.”

He couldn’t bring himself to ask anything, simply holding you closer. His heart’s lighter now that he heard you laugh.

Umemiya 

Since Umemiya heard you talked about your ex with Tsubakino, he was thinking of a way to make it up for you. He’s still upset that you were treated so poorly compared to what you do for others and desperately wishes to make you feel appreciated this time. 

He already had, what he thought, an idea, but he didn’t want you to guess so he had to organize it all somewhere you know. Not that he minded much. 

That’s why when he heard the rooftop’s door open behind him, he couldn’t wait to see your reaction. 

“Hajime ?” you looked around for him. “Why did you make me come this late, nobody’s there and- oh.” You stopped, a rather blank face at first as you looked around all the things he made up. 

Garlands were falling around the small space he used to eat with his friends, all kinds of food you liked on the table from what you could see and a small bag on the corner as well. You stayed silent for a second, mouth agape. Blinking a few times, your eyes finally fell on him. 

He had a huge, satisfied smile on his face, almost making you blush at the fondness dripping from it. He was patiently waiting for you to open your mouth to talk, rather than eating mosquitoes. 

“You prepared all of that ?” 

“Yep!”

“What for ?” you giggled nervously as you got closer, amazed, looking more carefully to what was on the table.

“Thank you. Because you’re always there for me, helping me, even cooking for me.” he explained calmly as he followed you around, half a step behind you. “You deserve it.” 

You choked on your laughter, feeling the tears coming to your eyes as he kept talking. “I don’t.” 

“Yes you do.” Before you could turn around, two strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you to his chest. Resting his head on yours, you muffled you cried in your hand but you could tell he was smiling. He must feel proud of himself, and he should. 

“That’s perfect, Hajime. Thank you so much.” your voice cracked, but you didn't really care. The ffelingof his hug tightening around you was enough.

Let me know if you liked it !

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

[strawberrycrushes]

"Ei..." You mumble softly, letting the back of your fingers graze her cheek. "Ei, I'm sorry. Please cheer up now. Haven't you been upset for long enough already?"

Meanwhile your girlfriend huffs and turns her head, swatting away your hand pettily.

"Ei," You chuckle, "It was an accident, I swear."

Ei whips her head around with a pout on her face. "How can it be an accident? I wrote my name on the box!"

You give her an apologetic smile. The Fontainian treats she had been looking forward to enjoying, it was true that you finished them off, but... "I'm truly sorry Ei, you know I am, but the box only had three sweets left. I didn't think you'd mind this much."

Ei bit the insides of her cheek. Saying it aloud like that really did make her seem quite childish. But still! Those were limited edition, and she was planning on savouring each and every bite.

Nonetheless, she thought as she stole a glance at you, perhaps you had been apologetic enough.

"I will forgive you." Ei begun, but raised a finger up just as your face was about to blossom into a bright smile. "On one condition."

You looked at her curiously, "What condition is that?"

"You have to bake me your brownies again." She spoke resolutely and you blinked. "That's it?"

Ei nods, "I have judged your crimes to be of little consequence in the grand scheme and have as such, decided to let you off with a light sentence." She says grandly and you smile.

"My god truly is merciful." You kiss her hand.

---------

The next time Ei finds you, you're hard at work in the kitchen and she feels a bubble of guilt surface inside of her. Her demand for your hand baked treats seemed fair while she was giving it out, but now that she thinks about it, don't you have to work super hard to make things like that?

Having no experience when it comes to these matters, the efforts behind these common, menial tasks were rarely on the forefront of her mind. So when she saw your focused expression, the impulsivity of her foolish display caused her cheeks to flush deeply.

She approached you from behind and wrapped her arms around your waist, hooking her chin on your shoulder.

"Dear..." She gently grabs your hand and your attention altogether, "I apologise for my...less than appropriate behaviour earlier. You don't have to actually go through with this. I was being ridiculous."

Your eyes widen before a sweet expression dawns your face and you shake your head helplessly, resuming your prior actions. "I'm making these for you because I want to, not because you 'ordered' me to or something. Seriously, you have such ridiculous worries at times Ei." You chuckle and lightly flick her nose, causing her to scrunch her face. "Even still, I should at least help out right?"

You pause.

"Ei...the last time you helped out you burned the kitchen halfway through. And that was when I asked you to boil water for me."

Ei straightens her back as her pride prickles, "I have no idea what happened there. I looked away for barely a second and then..."

You laugh and press a kiss to the bridge of her nose. "It's alright, the incident was hilarious enough to make up for itself in any case." You sigh, relaxing against her hold as your movements slow down.

Ei had always been someone quite self conscious of her actions. It was difficult to nurture her pride and inexperience alongside one another, especially since her skill was really only deeply rooted in the battlefield. Even despite that fact she still tried to handle you with love unfamiliar to her, spoiling you to no end with gifts and affection galore. Her efforts always made your heart skip a beat, yet as her lover you were not immune to the urge of spoiling her as well.

"Ei." You suddenly cupped her face, catching her momentarily off guard as you kissed her, "Don't worry about me so much. This is a small thing, and I want to do it for you." You speak firmly in such close quarters that Ei feels a sense of warmth blooming from inside her, causing her legs to go light.

Suddenly you remove Ei's arms from yourself and walk her out of the kitchen.

"Now shoo." You tease, "I have work to do. Come back to me in say...half an hour more. I'll be done by then I'm sure."

Ei turns around, "But-"

"No buts." You finish off with a laugh, cupping your face with her hand. "I want to treat you. I ate your sweets so it's only fair that I pay you back with something sweet in return. Unless..." you trail off ominously, "You're saying that you actually just don't want them."

"No!" Ei's eyes widen and you laugh at how quickly she changes her tune. "I'll let you get to work." She straightens up and dusts off her clothes, quickly walking off.

Archons you loved that woman.

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 11, Pt. 3 (Sneak Peek)

a/n: hello, my precious loves! here is your 4k words of sneak peek. (pt 3 of chapter 11 is currently at ✨45k words✨… sooo, this ~feels~ like a ~little snippet~ to me lmao) <3

Warnings (18+ — MINORS DNI): heavy petting; kissing in places you shouldn’t be kissing when you’re dating someone else; cheating; references to excessive drinking; drinking game; Sam being Sam; as usual, let me know if I missed anything that might be triggering to you! (I’m sure I missed something)

-🌼🌼🌼- 

Not wanting to give in to the urge to ask him for help, you tried your damn best to just do it yourself. Standing on your tiptoes, you stretched a hand way up for that one clear mixing bowl you always used when you baked. . . So close, yet just out of your reach. 

A lot like someone–.

“Dammit, y/n, let me get it.” His beautifully raspy voice was suddenly in your ear, but he sounded a little perturbed. All the sound did was make your cheeks grow warm and pink. “Just ask for help.”

He was right behind you, his front side completely pressed to your backside, making you dizzy. And as he placed one hand on your hip to balance himself, you thought you were going to buckle immediately. The feeling of his searing hot hold on the bit of skin at your hip, peeking out from your t-shirt. 

His fingers were so close to the bump, but not quite touching it. As he pushed himself into you a bit further, you felt him against your ass. Right through the thin material of your black Soffe shorts. 

He wasn’t completely hard. Not yet. But he would get there before too long if this continued like it had before Sam’s intrusion. You knew him. 

Back in the moment, you noticed his other hand reaching up for the bowl. And, of course, he grabbed it with no problem at all, being tall enough to grab the dish that had been too difficult a job for you.

Ugh. You needed him. Even if it were just for a fucking dish. 

When he placed the bowl on the counter, you reached to touch the bowl at the same moment he went to move his hand. And for a brief bit of time, your hands grazed each other. It happened for long enough that you both stilled your hands, appreciating the feeling. . .

He didn’t move from his spot behind you. 

He laid his palm flat on the counter, grounded himself. Boxed you in with his body — the sandalwood and vanilla in his cologne made your head swirl. You gripped the bowl tighter, enjoying the fact that he’d stayed behind you, but wanting more. His hot breath continued to bathe your already warm neck in the most delicious wisps of air. Naturally, you leaned into him just the slightest bit. Couldn’t help it.

Once more, his voice was in your ear. “Was Sam right?”

You turned your head to speak to him more directly, but kept your eyes downcast to maintain some sense of stability. Lowly, you questioned him right back. “Was he right about what?” 

“Are you going to mess around with Theo?” He hushed, breath fanning over your cheek. He spoke Theo’s name as if it were laced with poison. “You wanna take out your baby hormones on him?”

“That’s not your business, Jake,” you breathed back, shakily taking in some air to fill your tight lungs. You moved your hand to his, watching the movement. You gently traced your fingertips down his long digits. His strong hand fidgeted, flexing at the action. Slowly, you went to rest your palm on the top of his hand. 

But when you went to move your hand, he stopped you. His hand quickly turned the other way around to grab yours in a sure grip — seamlessly lacing your fingers. 

“Do you really want him?” he posed the question heatedly, placing a breath of a kiss on your temple, lips brushing your skin. 

“I don’t fucking know, Jake,” you hissed under your breath, arching into him as he brushed your hair to the side, once again pressing his lips to the column of your neck. 

Before you could think of another thing, Jake was spinning you around, your back smoothly connecting with the side of the fridge nearest to you. Your breath was heavy enough to emit a gasp at the motion. Just out of view from the guys, Jake kept you hidden, pulling you away from the fridge and closer to him.

His grasp on your hand let up a little, his palm pressing against the small of your back the best it could with your hand in the way. At the same time, he pressed his hips into yours, showing his reaction to you. 

Oh.

He kept hold of your hand at your lower back, his arm wrapped close around you. His strength held you in a secure grip, making you feel so safe and at home. . . Just like the lavender field. . . 

Your stomach was pressed into his, there was a sliver of skin where your belly was exposed at the hem of your t-shirt. Your warm skin brushed up against the buttons of his shirt and the soft material. The cottony linen of it felt like a dream against your skin, so close to him. His soft lips made home on your neck, placing wet kiss after wet kiss on the skin there. His tongue, peeking out only slightly to touch you with every nip from his lips.

He reached one hand up to hold your cheek, positioning your face just right to get the angle he wanted.

Your body ignited with heat and desire for him. The way your head fell back and your neck loosened with the tiniest sigh from your lips was unavoidable.

“You keep doing this to me, baby,” he groaned against your neck. Slowly, he lifted his mouth from you, his tongue had been so close to running over your pulse. You knew it.

But he’d stopped.

“Doing what to you, Jacob?” You grit back, pulling your head up lazily to stare at him. There was fire in your eyes as you peeked up at him from under your lashes. Your chest lifted in heavy breaths.

“I know it’s wrong, but I can’t help but look at you and— and. . .,” he trailed off, gently running his thumb over your cheekbone. His shoulders, sturdy, and curved in to keep you to himself. “I just look at you and want to bend you over and remind you that you can do better than him.”

Your thighs shivered, you were aching for him to do what he described. . .

Yet, as much as his words made you eager to do just what he wanted in the middle of this kitchen right this second. . . he’d said something you both needed to remember. It was wrong. Though, it was odd. . . Just as much as it felt foolishly wrong, it felt completely right.

But, right now, the wrong was what hung over your shoulders. The guys could walk in at any moment. Maya could arrive (thanks to Sam’s lovely invite) and catch you both. 

Wrapped up in each other. Goddammit.

“Jake,” you sighed, sadly and resolved to the decision to break up whatever was going on at the moment. “We shouldn’t– we shouldn’t be doing this. We aren’t together. This is–. You have Maya and I have to–.”

He didn’t take his eyes from you for several seconds, studying your face. You hadn’t moved. You didn’t want to be the first one to move. His eyebrows drew together in deep concentration. His amber-brown irises showed that he understood when he nodded hesitantly, backing away. You immediately missed the contact. His shoulders were tense and bunched up before he stood up straighter to roll them out. 

But, you could tell how upset it made him, eyes downcast until he was leaning against the island across from you, putting his hands out to grab hold of it when he was near enough. Across from you, he looked up at you with conflict painting his features. He understood the levity of the situations you kept putting yourselves in, but what he understood about it made him angry. Or, at least you assumed. You’d spent several months observing every little (and big) emotion Jake felt, you had a pretty good inclination on how well you could read the man. Most times. 

Besides, you felt the same exact way, so you could sense it billowing off of him in waves. 

“I know,” he sighed, his body rigid and eyes emptier than they’d been moments before. He slapped on a smile that stretched a little too tight across his lips. “Just–go rest. I need to wait in here for the pizzas to finish.”

“But I need to make the brown–.”

“I will make them.”

“Jake–.”

“Do you want to make them?”

“Yes, I want to eat some, so—.”

“But did you truly want to make them, or can you just let me do that for you?”

You stood there, at a loss over much more than the brownies. Without any other idea of how to respond, you just placed your hands on your hips, shrugging. Preparing and baking them had just been a distraction. 

If you weren’t going to allow yourself to be in the same room as Jake, all you really wanted to do was sit down and rest your feet after the long day. 

But damn. . .you’d made yourself want those brownies. . .The picture on the box was calling your name. . .

Jake huffed the smallest laugh, but his face was still void of any one emotion. “I know you don’t want to make them, but you want to eat them. Let me make them for you.”

Then, you looked over to the sink. You hadn’t finished with the lavender. You’d gotten distracted.

“The plant. I need to put it in a new–.”

“I’ll get it,” Jake said, his eyes the slightest bit brighter, even though his mouth still held a smile that didn’t look completely real. “You need to sit down. It’s been a long day. Go talk to my brothers or something. I’m sure you’d love to do that and they fucking love you, so.”

Well, it was settled, then. He was correct in all of that.

“And call your boyfriend,” he suddenly said, turning his back to you, tone too friendly. It sounded as though he was suddenly okay with Theo. You knew damn better than that. 

But you couldn’t question his sudden change in attitude with his back turned to you once again.

And why was his sudden shift in attitude pissing you the hell off? Stupid ass shit. It shouldn’t even matter — it just threw you for a loop. You were still so angry and he was just. . . Fine?

Ugh. If anything, it should have made you glad that he wasn’t being so hostile about Theo. . . But instead, you missed the way he inflamed at the mention of your study buddy. You missed the heat from moments ago.

You clenched your fists at your hips, digging into the flesh before you decided to pull down your shirt a little to cover your whole tummy. Even if it was only a couple inches of skin, it made you feel exposed and you were not in the mood anymore. 

To test him just a little, you fought back. “He’s not my–.”

“Well, he’s on his way to being it, so might as well start calling him that,” he responded, a little sharper. And with his broad back still to you, as he went about grabbing the rest of the ingredients. 

You stood there for a moment, contemplating what to say – if you should say anything. But when he avoided any and all eye contact, you decided to just leave the room. 

He was a pro at pissing you the fuck off. And you didn’t want to argue with him over something so stupid and trivial. 

You didn’t make a sound as you turned on your heel and made your way to the living room to be with the boys. Sam and his loud signature cackle that was bouncing off of the living room walls to greet you.

As soon as your ass hit the couch cushion, you were texting Theo. Because, well. . . fuck Jake. 

Suddenly, you were very excited to see how Jake might react to having him around all night. 

He took almost no time to respond. 

Theo, 6:23 p.m.: I’ll be there :) Thanks for thinking of me, beautiful!

The term of endearment made your heart leap in your chest, your cheeks blushing as a little grin fit to your lips. Beautiful. Every girl likes being called beautiful by a cute guy. You might as well fucking enjoy it. He was coming for you tonight. Only you. No one else. 

He only wanted you. You were special to him. Jake couldn’t say that. There was at least one woman more important than you and he made that clear by continuing to be with her. And, if you were being honest with yourself, you were relieved for it. . . 

In your heart, you knew that your graveyard of a past was not something he was responsible for. He didn’t need to be the one picking up the pieces. You’d rather him be with a woman who brought him nothing but joy. You brought doom and destruction. Right? You always had.

You were momentarily distracted as you watched Sam uselessly trying to put his hair in a high bun. Danny was rolling his eyes and soon coming to his rescue. He really was such a good friend. Everyone needed a Daniel Wagner in their life.

Then, as you were texting Theo back with a slightly flirty text, you wondered what the night might entail for you. Playing this damn game was ridiculous and petty, but you had a point to prove. To Jake and to yourself. You didn’t need him. 

Who knew if he cared to realize it. . . But you did. In all reality, you knew Jake really didn’t even care that much. It was more about the baby than you anyway, you were sure of it. And you still had a life you wanted to live and Jake’s role as the baby’s father wasn’t going to deter you.

So, you contemplated. 

Should you take it a step further? Force yourself out of Jake Mode? You hadn’t been with anyone else for a long-ass time. . . It could be really good for you. Even if it felt a little strange doing that with someone else while Jake’s baby moved around (apparently quite a bit) inside your belly. You couldn’t feel her yet, but Dr. Rose had assured you that it would be coming sooner than later. 

What would it be like when you could feel her? Would that make sex with someone else even more awkward? 

You rolled your eyes at that thought. Duh. It would be like your baby giving you a piece of her mind for giving anyone but her Daddy attention. Well, too bad her Daddy wanted to give someone else attention. And too bad you were too fucked up to give yourself to her Daddy. 

Damn, even though you’d just been pissed at Jake, referring to him as Daddy in your head was doing something to you. Something Jake couldn’t be the one to help you with. Because you were done with the foolish moments.

You knew you’d end up needing help alleviating some of that pent up tension. All of the. . . moments with Jake recently weren’t doing your over-excited sex drive and hormones any good. You were on the verge of going absolutely ballistic if you didn’t do something to ease the pent up energy.

And you were not about to give Jake the idea that he would be the one to help (as much as you wanted it). Not anymore would you give that idea to him. Not when he was so quick to turn you on and just as soon turn his back. 

Fuck that.

-🌼🌼🌼- 

“I call the hard liquor!” Sam excitedly declared as he started fast walking towards the kitchen. 

“Dear God,” Josh grumbled, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer. “Please, God no.”

“Um, absolutely not,” Danny replied, already following closely behind. 

Theo quickly got up to follow the other two, acting like he was somehow part of the inside joke. It was awkward to watch, but you were glad he was up and away from you for a little bit. His arm had been around you all night and it had been suffocating the air around you. Claustrophobia was definitely real.

After a few seconds of feeling the relief, it dawned on you what Sammy had said. Liquor. This was a drinking game. Duh.

“Fuuuck,” you groaned with a small huff. For some reason, you’d totally forgotten about the whole drinking part of the game.

“What, love?” Josh inquired, brows knit in concern. “You okay?”

“Yes,” you drew out the word with a sad smile and a shake of your head. “I just remembered it’s a drinking game.”

“Oh no,” Maya chimed in, her naturally whiny voice getting right under your skin. It was obvious she was trying too hard to act like she cared.

She sounds like a goddamn Kardashian, you thought with an internal roll of your eyes. 

“Oh, y/n. Fuck. Do we need to find a different game?” Josh wondered aloud, doe-eyed and totally willing to uproot the one game Sam wanted to play. It was Sam’s night and you weren’t about to rain on his already-depressing parade. “We can total–.”

“No, Joshy,” you swatted the idea away with a wave of your hand. With a hand to your belly, you leaned back, a wider grin gracing your lips. “I’ll just sit here and watch. It’ll be just as fun.”

“No it won’t,” Josh argued, shaking his head. “I want you to participate. Let me think. . .,” He was silent for a bit, his thinking face on as he tapped a finger to his chin. His eyes lit up after a few seconds, apparently coming up with something. “How about none of us drink and we just get out if we laugh?”

“The drinking adds to the hilarity of the game,” you replied. “Seriously, Josh. It’s o–.”

“How about. . .,” Jake suddenly chimed in to your left, having taken up the chaise with Maya. Your skin heated at hearing his voice. You hadn’t looked his way since he’d come to sit in the living room an hour or so ago.

You’d been rude enough to not even say thank you for the delicious pizza you’d all devoured. Or the brownies that he’d ended up baking for you, swirling caramel in with them and everything. He’d done more than he had to, but you didn’t want to think about it.

But, you decided to finally show him a little respect by turning your head in the direction of his voice. “How about I don’t drink either and you and I can just play the game by getting out if we laugh,” he paused, probably assuming you’d turn all the way to look at him better in response. You didn’t. “Um. . . Everyone else can drink. It’ll still be funny that way and we don’t have to break Sammy’s heart by taking away the drinking.”

Why was he being so sweet? You hated how kind he could be. It did your heart very little good.

“Jake, no. Don’t do that. I’ll be–,” you began, finally letting your eyes flit over to him. But, he wasn’t looking at you. No, he was watching Josh who’d started clapping. 

Apparently Josh liked the idea. 

“Great thinking, Jacob!” Josh applauded him from his spot at the ottoman. Then, the curly headed twin languidly rose from his spot on the ottoman, brushing his khaki pants before pointing towards the kitchen. “If that’s all settled, I’m going to grab a White Claw and assist Daniel in herding Sam back in here.”

Without any time to protest and Josh already on his way to the kitchen, you were out-voted. No drinking for you or Jake, apparently. 

“Well. . .,” Maya dragged in her valley-girl twang, dragging a hand up Jake’s arm that you immediately turned your head down at seeing. “I won’t drink if you don’t, babe.” 

Your stomach lurched at her acting like she could save the day by not making Jake do something alone with the pregnant lady.

“No. . . it’s okay,” Jake said in return, trying to use a honeyed little voice to reassure her. 

You could’ve puked on the spot. 

“I don’t want you to feel alone, though,” the gorgeous dark-haired woman offered. You were glad you’d been avoiding looking at them all night. You’d watched her walk in and claim the chaise. Aaand that had been enough. You hated watching her and Jake and it was honestly aggravating how perfect she was in her statuesque beauty. 

“I won’t be alone,” he reminded her in the same sugary tone. “Y/n isn’t drinking either.”

There was a pause where it seemed like Maya was weighing whether or not that was a valid response. You decided it didn’t even fucking matter to you what she thought. 

At the perfect time, you heard Stevie approach your legs with a meow.  So, you took advantage of her seeking you out and lifted her to sit in your lap. Of course, the cat relaxed easily against your crossed legs (because, thankfully, you could still do that — barely). 

But when you heard a hushed voice coming from Maya and Jake’s direction, you obviously had to peek over. Were they whispering about you? 

When you looked their way, you realized it was only Maya doing the whispering. Jake sat there, leaned forward towards you, his hands clasped and elbows sitting on his thighs. His eyes were cast down as she said whatever she was saying in his ear, his brows scrunched as if thinking critically over what she was saying. 

You squinted at her with her mouth so close to his ear, her hair draped over her shoulder, body turned almost entirely towards him. You could still see her incredible cleavage from this vantage point. God.

As you further observed, you noticed her hand was up to cover her mouth, too. Little fucking secret keeper. This was your fucking apartment – if the bitch had something to say, she needed to say it out loud. 

So, with a clenched jaw and slanted eyes, you addressed it. “You know, May–.”

“It’s fine, babe,” Jake spit out before you could say anything, his eyes flicking over to yours as if to say ‘It’s not worth it.’ “I don’t care that much. You have fun. I promise I’ll still have fun, too. Have you met my brothers? They don’t need alcohol to act like idiots.”

Maya’s eyes were downcast as she rubbed Jake’s arm, squeezing his bicep. 

Then you watched in horror as she rubbed salt in the wound, cupping both hands around his cheeks and bringing him over to her. And, sitting there, still petting Stevie, you got to gloomily witness Maya wrapping her lips around his. It was in the most sultry manner (or was that just her?) – laying her claim on the man whose child you held inside of you. 

Being the person on the opposite side of this made you want to fucking puke. His eyes closing in appreciation of the kiss was icing on the damn cake. And the way his line of sight found you mid-kiss and clung to you until the end of the mini makeout was hell. The deepest, most fiery crevice of hell.

-🌼🌼🌼- 

The giggle that erupted from Josh as he drew his card was so loud, you were certain the neighbors could hear as it echoed. He’d knocked out more than a couple of White Claws — and drank them much faster than he should have.

He shook his head, his hand cupping his mouth to muffle yet another boisterous laugh as he read again to himself.

“Elmo can’t believe this!” He exclaimed, chuckling afterwards as the rest of you shared tiny grins and wide eyes. Was he imitating a Sesame Street character?

And, when he started singing Elmo’s World, your theory was confirmed.

It was. . . alarming how perfectly he mimicked the red, furry character. Almost as if the puppet lived inside of him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Sam snarked, confused and clearly lacking any patience with his brother's antics. 

The rest of you were caught in a fit of giggles as Josh continued to say things as Elmo, in third person and everything. Though you were also confused as hell, you were equally impressed by his spot-on impersonation. 

The youngest brother leaned forward to try to nab the card from Josh, but Josh hastily brought his hand back to himself.

“My card, Sam!” Josh shouted, slapping his younger brother's hand away, still wheezy laughing. Then, he shook his head, pretending to dust off the front of the card. “What an imbecile,” he mumbled, a tad bit more serious to imply his annoyance with Sam.

The roll of Sam’s eyes was the most dramatic display of exasperation you’d ever seen from him, and that was certainly saying something. You tried so hard to hold back your laughter, fearful that any more pressure on your tummy would cause you to pee right on the spot. (Thanks, pregnancy.) 

“Then shut the hell up and read it,” Sam spat, impatiently waiting to move along with the game.  

“Okay, okay,” Josh started, holding his card in front of his face, pretending to adjust the invisible monocle that was (not) sitting over his left eye for an added dramatic effect. “You’re a tickle me Elmo.” He cleared his throat, attempting to hold whatever his persona was, but cracking yet another laugh after he read the words aloud. “. . . And you insist that the target tickle you, and if they do, get furious at them.” 

The room resounded with a collective “Oh!” once you all discovered the true reasoning behind his little (and terrifyingly accurate) impression. 

He held the card down just enough that his eyes peeked over the cardstock, his right eyebrow cocked as his eyes flitted around the room. “Who shall be my playmate?” He joked as he placed his hand on the bottle, spinning it with a graceful tap, just enough to land on the person sitting right beside him: Samuel.

“That’s not fair!” Sam protested, still drunk, but thankfully having been cut off from the hard stuff as soon as he’d tried to claim it at the beginning of the game. “You didn’t spin hard enough, Joshua! Not a fair spin. Do it again.”

“The bottle chooses who it chooses, brother,” Jake chimed in from his spot, where you refused to look. 

You just settled back into Theo’s arm that was slung across the back of the couch, trying your best to be comfortable. Fake it till you make it. And when Sam straight up pouted for thirty seconds straight, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. 

“Samuel Francis,” you said his name flatly. “Just play the goddamn card with Josh. Jesus. There is definitely worse. You’re just lucky he’s not–.”

“Naming every part of my body while touching it,” Sam interrupted, locking eyes with you as he raised a brow. A mischievous grin rising under his mustache.

And as your mind rushed with the memory, you couldn’t stop your eyes from flicking to Josh’s. Of course, he was already looking at you. He knew now was not the time. You knew he knew.

And from your peripheral, you saw Danny looking at you as well. And when you looked over towards him, he was giving you a look that said ‘don’t listen to him’, which you waved off with a swat of your hand in the air and a shaky smile. 

Don’t think about it, y/n, your inner voice counseled you. Sam’s just drunk and doesn’t hold enough stock in what he’s saying for you to take it personally. Just ignore him.

“Sam.” You heard Jake sternly say his name, close to you from where he sat snugly in the chaise to your left. The seriousness in his tone made you freeze.

And this time when he spoke, you let yourself look at him. Instantly, you regretted it, seeing his arm around Maya’s shoulders. But you just focused on how his eyes found yours for a solid ten seconds, full of fire and a sort of protection. Your heart leapt in your chest at the same time he trained his eyes, once again, on Sam. “Fuck right off and go tickle Josh. Suck it the hell up.”

-🌼🌼🌼- 

The night continued on after Sam tickled Josh’s (very creepy) version of Elmo.

After that one, you got to witness a few more hilarious rounds. You’d belly laughed at Sam imitating a bird and pecking endlessly at Josh with his nose. The way your sides hurt when Danny got to be Nicholas Cage while searching for the Declaration of Independence (Jake had been the Declaration of Independence) was incomparable. And you tried hard to not cringe when Theo had been Mickey Mouse going through withdrawals and looking for drugs that his target had (that lucky target had been Sam, once again).

Thankfully, you’d had to pee at the perfect time and got to skip your turn. But when you came back, Maya had just gone and it was Jake’s turn.

He had just picked his card once you worked to make yourself comfortable on the couch. As comfortable as you could be. It took you a moment to find the right spot, groaning as you finally settled.

Theo, of course, didn’t offer any help. He was oblivious to your pain, ignoring it altogether as he sat on the cushion next to you.

But, Jake noticed. You knew he did. And so, you looked up and over at him for his understanding.

It was confirmed for you when he was already watching you, his body sitting up a little straighter where he sat on the edge of the chaise, facing you and the rest of the room. His card, in his hand, but of little to no importance to him at the moment.

It was as if he was ready to drop it all and help if needed. But you just shook your head at him to reassure him you were fine.

Though, when you heard the soft timbre in his voice as he leaned forward to quietly check on you, you were no longer fine. And it was as though there was no Theo or Maya or anyone in the room.

For a moment, at least.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you said to him, avoiding looking at him for too long, knowing it would hurt if you offered more. “Just a little hard to get comfy these days.”

You offered one more quick glance to see if he’d heard you. And after he’d nodded in response to you, he let his eyes readjust to the card.

His eyes lit up when he read the card to himself, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he giggled under his breath. His beautiful teeth, on full display in a wide smile.

Then, his face was serious. He was putting on a persona. You looked at him with wide eyes and a smirk, waiting for whatever this was. One of his eyebrows raised as he flourished a gesture with one hand.

“Oh, fuck no,” Josh groaned from his spot across the room. “Not the Johnny Depp. Please.”

“You’re a pirate, and your map shows where the buried treasure is,” he read aloud, using his best Jack Sparrow accent, flailing his arm and slurring together his words as though he had just downed the last sip of rum. “The bloody problem is. . . It’s in your Target’s. . .,” he paused, presumably for some sort of dramatic effect.

“There is no way the card said ‘bloody problem,” Daniel jested with a laugh.

“A Jake treat, I’m sure,” Josh added.

You let your eyes roll as you repositioned your body, the last one already beginning to cause aches and pains as you prepared yourself for whatever this card said.

But, as you were about to discover, there was no preparing for this one.

“The treasure is in,” he said again, a bit firmer for emphasis and with a glare towards the two mocking brothers. (The glare wasn’t any good for your comfortability, by the way.) “Your target’s. . . .pants,” he finished. The room shot off in laughter, while you were silently panicking inside your mind.

Fuck.

He held the card between his middle and index fingers, then flicked it across the room before reaching his hand to the bottle. (Why was that so fucking sexy?)

You clenched your fists, your jaw, everything as the bottle was spinning, slowly contemplating the fate of the unlucky (rather, very lucky) soul it would choose as Jake’s victim.

Please no. Please no, you thought looking away from it would somehow deter it from landing on you. (As if it fucking worked that way.)

But, when you heard it come to a stop, and heard the collective gasp from everyone in the room, you knew.

The bottle, in all of its glory, was pointing right at you.

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: hmmm… we’ve returned to our beloved game from game night in chapter 3… I wonder what’s in store…

See you in a couple/few days with the rest of this chapter!

xoxoxo — love you all so incredibly much <333

-🌼🌼🌼- 

Taglist (continued in reblog):

@jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlover, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend

@aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr, @josh-iamyour-mama, @abby-gvf, @cassyface, @gretavansabotage, @sacredtheslay, @alienobsever, @hollyco, @age0fwagner, @raceb14, @stardustcatcher, @styles-canvas, @ladywhimsymoon, @earthgrlsreasy, @peaceloveunitygvf

@torniturntomyarrow, @joshsbonnet, @llrosee, @starshine-gvf, @itsafullmoon, @gvfmarge, @creadliz98, @mackalah, @lek-gvf, @carlyfleet, @profitofthedune, @mefiorini, @welllauragvf, @highway-tuna, @dont-go-home-without-me, @sarah-gvf01, @polemicandcontent, @ageofbajabule, @texas-bbq-pringles, @builtbybrokenbells, @stardustjake, @indigostreaksolo, @tripthelightfantastix, @kiszkas-canvas, @jakebrainrot, @anthemheatwave

@chichi610, @freyjalw, @scoreofinfantryvines, @stonecoldmo, @divapadam

I tried to tag everyone, but you all know how it goes! 🤦‍♀️ Please make sure you’re filling out my Google form if you would like to be tagged and aren’t already on the taglist! <3

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

hallo! Could I request Comfort prompt 11 for Bruce Wayne? Your writing always makes me smile.(except when it supposed to make me sad, but I like that too)

Thank you!! Posted from mobile, so sorry for any mistakes!

Warnings: None; this is pure fluff

The office was empty and quiet, and had been for a while. You waved your hand periodically to trigger the motion sensor of the fluorescent lights when they winked out on you. It was late, and you had already been there far longer than you meant to be. You sighed, weary, leaning back against your desk and propping your chin up on your hand. Your eyes were beginning to cross; you felt like you'd read the presentation slides a hundred times, but they didn't feel finished.

You groaned as the lights winked off again, but before you could move, they suddenly flickered back to life. You frowned, and then--

"Do you have any idea what time it is?"

You screeched at the sound of Bruce's voice, whirling around in your office chair. He bit the inside of his cheek and raised a penitent hand, clearly fighting the urge to laugh. You huffed in annoyance, pressing your palm over your pounding heart as you settled back down in your chair.

"Don't...Do that."

"I'm sorry," Bruce apologized, walking closer.

"And I know exactly what time it is, thank you."

"What's got you here so late?"

"Proofing the slides for tomorrow."

"Still?"

"I don't think they're ready."

Bruce sighed softly, pulling a chair from another desk up beside yours.

"Here. I'll trade you."

Your brow furrowed in confusion before you broke into a smile at the sight of a bag of takeout.

"Oh, Brucey," You cooed, "You do like me."

He snorted, reaching out and picking up the laptop.

"I'll give these a look while you eat."

You leaned over, pecking his cheek before opening the bag--the hot aluminum dish, wrapped hunk of bread, and a smaller dish with a side salad. Your stomach growled as the scent filled your nose. You popped open the lid, stabbing your little plastic fork into the piping hot baked ziti. You pushed it around a little to let the heat out before glancing guardedly toward Bruce. He had a solid poker face: eyes darting from side to side as he read, brow drawn slightly, lips pursed...Until they moved:

"...Stop staring and eat your dinner."

"I can eat and stare."

"You can, but you aren't."

"The pasta's hot. I'm letting it cool."

Bruce cut you an unimpressed glance, but his lips twitched with a smile.

"Anything?" You asked, nodding toward the laptop.

"I've had time to read one slide. One."

"And?"

"It was perfect." He nodded toward the dish again. "Eat."

You took an obliging bite, groaning softly at the taste.

"There's water in the bag, too."

"I freaking love you," You mumbled around the mouthful, fishing into the plastic bag for the cold bottle. Bruce huffed a soft laugh through his nose, murmuring, "Love you, too, honey."

"How'd you know I'd still be here?"

"Lucky guess. You get singleminded when you're worried about work."

"I think singleminded is a bit strong."

"You're in the office at 11:30 on a Tuesday night, proofing slides that I'm positive are perfect. That is the definition of singleminded."

"I'm committed to my job, I like my job."

"I'm not knocking it, honey," Bruce soothed, smoothing his hand over your knee. "I just want to make sure you're taking care of yourself as well as you take care of your work."

"Mm, but if I take care of myself, what'll you do all day?"

Bruce laughed, raising his hand and gently tweaking your nose.

"I'd have time to learn to play polo."

"You want to play polo?"

"Alfred suggested it." He chucked you gently under the chin before beginning to turn back to your laptop.

You leaned in before he could get too far, pecking his lips gently. Bruce smiled, chasing your lips for one more kiss before refocusing. You watched the mask of concentration fall over his face again, and you couldn't help but smile.

"Eat."

"You're so cute when you concentrate."

"I am not cute."

"Bruce Wayne is a cutie patootie."

"If you call me cute one more time, I will put typos in these slides."

[noxturnalpascal]

What's at Stake

(Vampire!)MaxPhillips x (VampireHunter!)F!Reader (7.8K)

Fic Exchange - Request Suggestion:  readers a vampire hunter, one night she’s killed a bunch trying to take down Max, he casually strolls into area “All that blood looks good on you, brings out your eyes.” Hate fucking/ enemies to lovers esque, have fun with it 

Merry Christmas @xdaddysprincessxx 💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️

Warnings: Enemies to Lovers. Slow Burn. Made Up Vampire Lore. Monster fucking. Talk of blood, biting, sucking, and bleeding.

Struggling against the bindings holding you to the office chair, you try to ignore his whining voice prattling on about how you ruined everything. Sat in the middle of an abandoned office building, you look around the room for any kind of weapon, for an exit, for a way out of your predicament. Suddenly his breathy chuckle is right at your ear. 

“I told ya that if ya kept fuckin’ sniffin’ around, the Boss wasn’t gonna like it, didn’t I?” he whispers.

You turn your head away from his hot breath fanning across your cheek, smelling like cinnamon and nutmeg.

“But you’re too goddamn stubborn to listen to me, aren’t ya?” he continues as he rounds your chair and grabs your face.

Fuck you, Max. You mutter between his squeezing palm. You’re pretty sure he understood you by the way he devilishly grins.

“We don’t have time for that unfortunately sweetheart,” he lets out an exaggerated sigh, “and what a shame that is.”

He rakes his gaze over you from head to toe. You feel the urge to shudder, but resist. However, you can’t stop the goosebumps from breaking out all over your skin. How is he doing this? Letting go of your face, he turns towards the guys behind you, the same ones who brought you into this room. He speaks to them in rapid Romanian. Your Romanian is pretty shit but you’re pretty sure you hear the words “deep” and “water.” 

This doesn’t bode well for you. He’s been pacing back and forth along the floor, chastising you for not listening to him, since you were brought in here hand-cuffed, leg-cuffed, and dripping red from head to toe. You think he might be a little angry that you just took out a small cadre - only two dozen human men - of his boss’ protection detail. Or maybe he’s mad about the way you hacked their security system so easily. 

Now that you're thinking about it though, he’s probably mainly pissed that you killed no less than eight of his family - vampires - just to get the necessary information on where his boss was holed up. It’s not your fault the first seven were so loyal that they didn’t give you what you needed. Maybe if he had more disloyal family members, you wouldn’t have had to kill so many of them. 

He brings his face towards yours again, wafting his scent over you. He smells like crisp air, a warm hearth, and baked goods. Max leans his face in so his lips are just brushing the skin over your jugular and inhales deeply. He lets a low mmmmmm rumble from his mouth before he slowly licks a stripe up the side of your neck, tasting the blood drying on your skin.

“You come in here, trussed up and marinated like a fuckin’ Christmas Goose, and what? You think I’m not gonna take a bite?” He grazes his teeth over your neck. “Cuz sweetheart, ya really look good enough to eat.”

You let him continue on with his little charade. You know this is all for show, more a display of dominance for the men behind you than anything else. He’s not going to drink your blood. You both know that your blood, like the blood of the long line of Vampire Hunters before you, tastes disgusting to him and anyone like him. That’s not to say he couldn’t drink it. But most vampires - Max included - are far too vain to drink five pints of something they can’t stomach.

Honestly you’re more worried about this whole “deep water” thing. 

“Can we skip this part and just get to the part where you reluctantly let me go only for me to inevitably find you again later?”

You hope the smug sarcasm you laid on covered up the desperation in your question.

“Not this time sweetheart,” he murmurs, digging through some paperwork on his desk. 

He picks up a single file folder and shouts more orders in Romanian, causing five men with garbage bags to come into the room. They open the file cabinets and desk drawers and start removing any and all paperwork, stuffing them into the bags. The three men behind you grab you out of the chair and you can’t help the surprised squeal that escapes your lips. 

“Hey, take it easy!” Max barks at them. Gripping you tight, they lower you to stand on the ground in front of him.

“I tried to warn ya sweetheart, I really did,” He brushes his thumb over your lips, gathering some still wet blood drops, and brings his thumb into his mouth to suck on the tip of it. “Goddamn, you look so fuckin’ good all covered in blood like this. It really brings out your eyes.”

He winks.

You sit up in bed in a sweat, panting heavily. You look around the room, eyes straining to focus in the dim light coming through the windows. You check the alarm clock. Just past 3am. Same as yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that. No big deal, you just have the same fucking dream every single night. 

It’s probably fair to classify it as a nightmare at this point. The worst part isn’t the dream - one of your biggest failures. It isn’t who’s in the dream - arguably your arch nemesis. It isn’t even the memories it evokes - you struggling to fight for your life after being pushed off a cliff into a deep quarry lake and left to die. No, the worst part is that every night you wake up with soaking wet fucking panties. 

Max Fucking Phillips. How is he still doing this to you, all this time later?

You get up to check your email and for any replies to your posts on dozens of internet message boards. Nothing. The trail is cold. Ice cold. You have no clue where to look, you’ve been wandering aimlessly for months. The only thing warm are your thoughts of Max, plaguing your dreams each night.

Most vampires measure their age in decades, fewer measure it in centuries. But not Max’s maker. Zeno, or “the Boss,” as he’s affectionately called, measures his age in Millenia. You once heard that he’d bragged about hanging out with Alexander the Great, so it wouldn’t surprise you to learn that he saw the beheading of Kings and Queens, fought in the crusades, or gave military advice to Attila the Hun. 

He’s probably not even the oldest vampire to exist, if you think about it. He’s not the richest, not the most powerful, he’s not even the most evil. But he is the bane of your existence and the target of every one of your hunts. He’s also the fucker who killed nearly every relative of yours that ever tried to take him down, including your parents.

He’s the vampire that your family has been chasing for generations, ever since a failed turn rendered your great-great-great-great something into this - thing - he’s passed down the line. Not quite vampire, not quite human. Not a drinker of blood, but always thirsty. You aren’t immortal, you don’t have powers, and your regular teeth get regular checkups at the dentist. 

But your family is driven by a deep-seated hunger, both destined and cursed to seek out Zeno. Led by deep, instinctual urges, you’ve all stalked him across the ages, longing and needing to draw yourself closer to him. It was once explained to you that the craving you constantly feel is a vampire’s way of keeping those he’s fed on - both his victims and those he sired - close to him. 

It’s a false sense of loyalty. One that you and your family stopped feeling a long, long time ago. You especially, having been orphaned at 13, felt nothing but fury and hatred for this monster. He killed most of your family in one fell swoop. One night he came for vengeance and found it by taking your grandparents, 3 aunts, 4 uncles, 7 cousins, mother, and father away from you. Your Uncle Oz, maimed and having barely escaped the carnage, hasn’t left his house since.

It took you over a year to convince him to complete the training your father had started, giving you a chance to stand against this creature. In the last 15 years you’ve chased him around the globe, always catching his shadow as he turns a corner, never actually catching him. The closest you ever came was nearly five months ago, in California. 

After spending nearly two years searching the web, running down leads, questioning entranced villagers, and staking any vampire you came across, you’d finally gotten the lead you needed. A mid-level leech in an expensive suit had sung like a canary - turns out he had an unfortunate intolerance to allium in his mortal life that was severely exacerbated after his transformation.

His tip had landed you in a remote area south of San Francisco just after sunrise. You easily disabled the complicated security system, having spent months preparing for this exact moment. The next part you also planned for, taking out his human guards with well-placed, simple improvised explosive devices. Daytime afforded you some protection against dealing with his army of vampire followers while outside of the compound.

Once you got inside though, it was a different story. Your half-year of preparations went out the window when you were promptly overwhelmed by the loyal little fuckers crawling out of their coffins to protect their master. You’re not sure where your planning failed you, if it was their supernatural strength or just their sheer numbers. Either way, it landed you right where you didn’t want to be, in front of Max.

You’d dealt with Max before, he’d caught you sneaking around about a half dozen times now, sniffing around for a trail but still far behind your main target. He’d snatch you up by the scruff of your neck and give you a bonk on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper. At least that’s what it felt like. It felt like a fun little game the two of you played.

He’d always been flirty with you, dripping with smarmy charisma, but you didn’t let yourself fall for him. He was the enemy. You hated the way a dimple on his right cheek would come out when he gave you his signature smile with a wink. You hated the way he would make you forget about your dead parents for a while. You hated the way it would burn after he’d drag his fingers across your skin.

Hate him as you may, you felt like he understood you better than most people could. He knew what it was like to feel an uncontrollable urge. He also seemed to have a soft spot for you. He’d listened to you break down in tears once about your family and, to your surprise, didn’t judge you. He even once drove you to the hospital himself, dropping you off outside the ER after you fell two stories and broke your leg.

You actually thought he might be impressed last time with how close you got. Zeno was in the building, you were in the building. You’d never been so close. And yet, you accomplished nothing. Max shook his head at you once again, but this time he didn’t let you off with just a warning. He ordered his goons to execute you. It wasn’t fun anymore. It wasn’t a game.

Fuck him for ever making you feel playful. Fuck him for making you feel anything. Definitely fuck him for invading your dreams. Fuck. Him. The next time you saw Max Phillips, you were going to kill him. One less bloodsucking bastard standing in your way.

Several weeks later you find yourself in a seedy area of Moscow, dodging down alleyways and avoiding passing cars. You’d enlisted your Uncle Oz for help and he finally, reluctantly agreed, going so far as to hook you up with some old contacts of his. You’d been told about an increase in vampire activity in Russia, which of course the police and the news media would call something else; Missing Persons, Psychotic Slashers, Animal Attacks. 

You knew better. These were the telltale signs of Zeno’s army of bloodthirsty assholes moving into the area and eating their way through the local population. Typically they’d show up in waves and begin fucking, sucking, killing, and turning, strengthening their bodies and their numbers. You had no way of knowing if the Boss was among them, but it was your only lead.

Avoiding the streetlights as best you can, you continue to dart down side roads, struggling to read the signs and addresses in an alphabet so different from your own. Finally, you come across a building with the same number on the front as you have scrawled inside your palm. No business name on the outside, two stories tall, with every single window painted black.

This has to be it.

You zip around to the back, keeping your head on a swivel, looking around and above you for any kind of security detail. You don’t see anyone. There’s not even any security cameras on the building. Your confidence starts to wane. Reaching the back loading dock you easily pick a lock and throw the door open.

Slowly padding through the largest of the rooms, you no longer quiet your footsteps in the clearly abandoned building. You hear a phone ringing but there’s no one here to answer it. There hasn’t been anyone here in a while. Chairs lay overturned on the floor, several of the lights flicker with dying bulbs, and an acrid smell still lingers in the room.

At least 30 desks sit empty, computer monitors on every one but all of the CPUs yanked away, their cords still stretched out on the floor. A large garbage bin in the middle of the room, filled with what was once the computers, is the source of the smell and also a large black ring burned into the floor below and ceiling above.

Following a scant trail of papers left on the floor, you’re led to an office at the back corner. The still-ringing phone sits on an empty desk with nothing else but a single piece of paper. Scrawled on the sheet are the words answer me. This is a new game.

You pick up the phone. Silence. You say nothing. Then you hear several clicks.

“Hey sweetheart, ya there?”

Fucking Max, of course. You say nothing. You’re not giving him the satisfaction-

“S’okay, ya don’t have to answer me. I already know it’s you.”

You grind your teeth.

“Good job catchin’ up with our little operation there in Moscow. Unfortunately you’re about three weeks too late.” You can almost hear his fake pout. “Also, the Boss? He was never even there so I’m not sure where you’re getting your information from. I’d be questioning the allegiance of my sources if I were you, cuz they seem a little unreliable.”

You shake your head. Smug asshole.

“Anyways sweetheart, I won’t keep ya. I just thought it’d been a while since we last talked so I wanted to see how you were doin’. I guess you could say I missed ya.”

“I’m doing fucking great considering you tried to have your idiot henchmen drown me,” you bite. You can’t help yourself. You’re pissed off at him and proud of yourself for surviving at the same time. You want to rub it in his face. He failed. He wants to rub your failure in your face? Fine. Two can play that game. “Too bad I’m a better swimmer than you thought, huh?”

“You’re absolutely right sweetie. It was such a disappointment to find out you survived that night, instead of dyin’ in that deep water that I told my idiot henchmen to throw ya in. It’s not like I could’ve known what a strong swimmer ya were. How could I know that?”

Your brows knit. There’s no way.

“I obviously would have no way of knowin’ that ya won a state championship two years in a row on your high school’s swim team.”

Your jaw drops open.

He says your name. Your heart stops. He never calls you by your fucking name. 

“Stay outta trouble.” The line goes dead. 

You jump as the remaining lights turn off, shrouding you in complete darkness.

It’s been nearly a year since your not-so-near miss in Moscow. Your uncle, scared for your safety, convinced you to come back home and take a short break. You’d planned to stay for a month and when it turned into two and then three, he didn’t comment on it. Although once you hit the six month mark, he started calling you his roommate, no matter how much you rolled your eyes.

You’d never taken this amount of time “off” your hunts before. Sure, you were still scouring message boards and chasing down leads but you were doing it all from a computer chair. You used to actually chase them down, using planes, trains, or automobiles. You didn’t mean to sit still this long, it wasn’t in your nature, but you keep hearing Max’s words buzzing in your ear.

Stay outta trouble.

Your dreams have lessened in frequency since Moscow, though not in intensity. He still has the same effect on you, waking up with your body screaming for his touch. Now the dreams aren’t just of the night in California, the dreams have evolved. You thought that you’d welcome a change, any change, to the monotony. But since the dreams are basically just sex-dreams now, you’re slightly annoyed by them.

You’re not really as annoyed as you pretend to be, but it is disturbing that you’re fantasizing about an undead monster; not that it’s interfering with your non-existent social life. You actually downloaded a dating app and went on a few dates. You’re a quirky gal, so that’s what you attract. And you don’t mind it. But even peculiar guys get weirded-out when you try to explain what you do for a living. Several first dates, zero second dates.

So you spend a lot of time alone, or with your Uncle Oz, who is terrible company - sitting in his living room recliner in a stained shirt, eating TV dinners and watching reruns of NCIS. He tells you to get a real job - as if you were even good at anything else. He tells you to go out and make friends - as if anyone would understand you. He tells you that the clawing ache you feel deep inside ‘gets better’ with time.

You don’t believe him. You know he still feels it just as strongly as he always did. It’s just that he’s scared now, and the paralyzing grip of that fear is stronger than the pang of vacancy that sits deep in his core. Sometimes you think you can feel the fear too, prickling at the edges. It feels like icy-cold fingers reaching around the edges of your mind and body, freezing your thoughts, holding you down.

Every day you stay up until 3, sometimes 4 in the morning, fighting against that fear. You practice your Romanian, earning little rewards in your DuoLingo app. You message back and forth with other hunters, working together designing new weapons in the fight against these monsters. You hack into local cameras around the world, using every tool at your disposal to search for that face in the dark. Max. No, wait. Zeno. You’re hunting Zeno. 

It's a sunny late-September morning, just after noon, when you’re awoken by a strange ringtone. You sit up in bed, fumbling to reach your cell phone only to find it tucked under your pillow in silence. The ringing continues. What the-? A memory springs to your mind - of your uncle trying to throw his old phone in the trash but you grabbing it instead - just in case. 

You throw open the bottom drawer of your nightstand and grab the phone just as it stops ringing. You consider calling the number back but the low battery warning is flashing and you don’t remember where the old charger for this thing is at the moment. You wait a moment longer and when the voicemail notification flashes, you dial in to listen.

What you hear is a choppy message left with a bad connection. The person speaking has a thick accent but you’re sure you hear them say the name that makes your blood run cold - Zeno. You run out to the living room and make your uncle listen to the message no less than nine times before he can tell you anything about it.

He’s pretty sure it’s an old contact of his named Mo, who used to live in Cairo. 

Less than 36 hours later you find yourself in a bustling area just outside of Cairo. Tired from the lack of sleep in the tiny budget airline seats, you give the cab driver the wrong address. This is how you find yourself pushing your suitcase down the street, fumbling with your phone to get to your uncle’s emails. 

Unable to reach Mo back and not wanting to lose any time on the lead, you got on the next flight that would eventually land you in Egypt. Concerned with your safety, Oz had promised to stay on the case from back home and update you. Unwilling to wait until you get to the hotel, you punch away at the phone screen, trying to connect to a local mobile network.

You blame your exhaustion for the way you don’t even hear the motorbike riding along the sidewalk behind you. Three people jump off it, point a gun at you, and grab all of your stuff. They snatch your luggage, your phone, they even take your airplane pillow. They’ve piled back on the bike and ridden away before you even process what just happened.

You blink slowly and before you can begin to panic, you remember the emergency cash you keep stuffed in your pockets. You are too exhausted to think or do anything right now. Tomorrow you can get a new phone, you can call your uncle and get money wired, you can continue on with your chase. Tonight, you just need to check into your hotel.

Not surprisingly, you have a fitful dream, but what does surprise you is the subject of the dream. You’re not being tossed around in cheap economy seating. You’re not being mugged at gun-point by strangers in the night. Hell, you’re not even being seduced by a disarmingly attractive vampire in a three-piece-suit. 

You’re being chased. Like the kind of dream-chase where you run endlessly but make it nowhere. He bears down on you and you scream the kind of dream-scream, where your mouth is wide open but no sound comes out. He grabs you with his bony hands and you throw the kind of dream-punch where it feels like you’re fighting underwater. There is no escape.

You can’t see the face of the creature running you down in the dark, but you already know who it is. You would know him anywhere, anytime, even with your eyes closed. It’s Zeno. You know because even though your dream-legs are running away as fast as they can carry you, everything else in your body is screaming to turn and run the other way, to run towards him.

Max steps off the private plane onto the tarmac and almost immediately plops into the waiting SUV. It wasn’t a long flight but he’s not in a great mood, even the in-flight-meal - he thinks her name was Yulia - didn’t lift his spirits. He isn’t used to being summoned in the middle of the night like this by his boss, especially when everything has been going so well. 

The boss had been traveling around the Mediterranean, visiting some of his old stomping grounds, while Max had set up their new operation in the Greek Isles. Beautiful country with a rich history, and his office had a killer view - even at night. He was almost glad you blew up their spot in San Francisco. All was going according to plan, every i was dotted and every t crossed.

But now the boss was calling him to Egypt for an emergency meeting. It’s probably some kind of promotion, also known as ‘more work’. Max was one of the younger members of Zeno’s family but his keen nose for business and his shrewd sensibilities quickly made him a favorite. Even before you were killing off his competition, he was rising quickly within the ranks.

He checks his phone again for the hundredth time in the last day and a half. He’s been tracking you for the last 16 months, ever since that night in California. For the last year he’s watched you barely leave a five-block radius… until yesterday, when you traveled to your local airport. He’s been watching but hasn’t seen your signal pop back up since.

Where the fuck are you? 

He knows you haven’t found where he is, none of your internet searches have pointed you anywhere near his trail. He’s also positive that you don’t have the faintest clue where the boss is. Hell, until he was beckoned by private jet several hours ago, Max wasn’t even sure exactly where he was. Max has worked hard to make sure he’s ten steps ahead of you. It makes it easier this way. Easier to keep the boss happy. Easier to keep you safe. 

Max is led inside an old, abandoned temple, lit only by the near-full moon streaming in through the unglazed windows. The structure was built into the side of a rock formation that clearly wasn’t as close to the river as it is now. Now, water weeps from the rocks that form the walls, dripping down and creating undulating rivers across the uneven floor. 

Zeno stands in the center of the room, tall and gaunt, bent slightly over an altar.

The Boss starts talking, Max assumes to him, about ‘purpose’. They’ve had conversations like this before. When Max isn’t meeting the boss’ expectations, this is how he frames it. The shuddersome creature believes that all of his creations - the vampires he’s turned - are a reflection of him. Therefore, they must all be willing to ‘achieve greatness at any cost.’ 

He turns around and steps towards Max, cradling a figure in his arms covered by a black shroud. Max looks down at it, waiting for the boss to speak. When he says nothing, Max decides to ask.

“What’s this?”

“This is to remind you of your purpose,” the boss whispers, his voice a rasp, barely audible in the empty, echoing chamber.

“I already ate on the plane.”

“This isn’t for you, this is for me. I have plans.” His voice carries the final consonant like a hiss.

Whenever Zeno has plans, that means Max has more work. As if he doesn’t have enough work to do already, running the boss’s entire empire practically by himself. The ancient monster has lofty expectations, but is completely uninterested in the day-to-day mundanity of maintaining a global undead supremacy.

“What do you need, boss?”

“Complete the turn,” his voice scratches against Max’s eardrums, “make her your own.” 

Max has turned vampires before, always at the behest of Zeno. He doesn’t relish doing it, nor is he consumed by the same desire his boss has to build up an army of loyal followers. He reaches over and pulls down on the shroud, revealing the pale face beneath.

Your face.

Max tries not to react but he’s sure his pupils dilate, betraying him.

“What’s this?” Max asks again, attempting but failing an even-toned voice.

“You don’t recognize her?” Zeno asks, already knowing the answer.

“I recognize her.”

Of course he recognizes you. Your face, your smell, even the twitch of your lips as you sleep is familiar to him. You occupy his thoughts constantly, and have for quite a while.

“You told me you took care of her.”

“I did.” Max looks him in his cloudy, lifeless eyes.

“I understand ‘taking care of someone’ to mean that they’ve been e-lim-in-at-ed,” Zeno slowly draws out the last word.

“It wasn’t... I had her under control,” Max hates that he even has to explain himself right now. It’s all been handled.

“had?”

���Well…. I’m not sure what she’s doing here.” He looks down at your face, watching you take shallow breaths. “I thought-”

“I called her here. It was so easy,” the fiend lowers his face to yours, running his pointed nose along your cheek. Max winces. “She wants to be here with me. She craves it.”

Max tries not to shudder at his words. He hates the thought of you being beholden to Zeno in any way. He had been trying so hard to keep you out of his clutches. In the silence he hears a dripping noise, closer than the drips coming down the walls. He looks down at his feet and notices a pool of dark liquid, rivulets of water running through it.

He pulls at the dark shroud and it falls off your legs, revealing a steady stream of blood dripping down your inner calf. He continues to pull away the fabric and sees the white shift you wear stained deep red at the source of the blood. What appears to be a bite wound, barely concealed by the thin material, sits high on the inside of your thigh.

Max has to tamp down the rage inside him about to boil over. Zeno has taken it upon himself to drain you of blood in preparation to turn you and he did it by putting his mouth where only a lover’s mouth should go. He had no fucking right to touch you like that. He has no fucking right to touch you at all.

“I think she’s your weakness, Max,” the elder one scoffs.

“She’s nothing-”

“Don’t lie,” Zeno growls. “Don’t lie to me, boy.”

Max grits his teeth, unable to respond. 

“Turn her. Turn her and then she’ll actually be under your control. And then we’ll have some real fun.” The moonlight glints off the demon’s teeth and Max meets his dead eyes once again and he knows. He knows that the boss wants to make you immortal so he can hurt you over and over until the end of time. So he can punish you. So he can order Max to hurt you. So he can punish you both.

He knows he has no other choice.

You remember falling asleep atop the crisp sheets of your hotel bed, a warm breeze gently blowing through the open window. The next thing you remember is waking up with a splitting headache. A grating noise in your ears, starting out quiet but getting louder and louder - like nails dragging on a chalkboard - scraping around the inside of your skull.

The noise slowly forms itself into a voice, whistling like a tea kettle, stabbing the backs of your eyeballs. The voice enters your ears like the hissing of a snake, all tongue and teeth, unable to comprehend the words. You feel ice-cold pressure on your legs, then a sharp pain inside your thigh. You try to scream from the hurt but there isn’t enough air in your lungs to cry out. 

You think you’re dreaming of Max again, but it’s not how it usually is. Pain creeps up your spine. You smell rot, wet earth, and copper. You feel shame. A warm flush burns your cheeks, the tips of your ears, down your neck to your chest. You don’t want to be thinking of him like this, not now, not as the ache in your head increases, not as your leg throbs. Wait, why is Max hurting you like this? He’d never do this. Why is he doing this?

You hear slurping noises and finally understand the word ‘sleep’ in your ear, and so you fall back asleep.

You’ve never been more tired in your life. You’re so tired that no matter what you do, you can’t wake up. You hear Max speaking now and smell warm caramel sauce. He’s in your dream again, but you can barely understand his words over the pounding in your head. A noise cuts through the constant buzz in your ears, a piercing howl, a throaty laugh that claps repeatedly against your eardrums.

Suddenly, an inhuman shriek rings out so loudly that you’re sure your ears are going to bleed, and then you’re falling. Falling, falling, falling into an endless pit of black. You’re never going to land, you’re never going to know peace, you’re never going to survive this. A wave of warmth splashes over you and suddenly you’re on solid ground. You’ve never felt so good in your entire life. You drift back into a hazy unconsciousness.

You awake when you hear all of the voices, it must be six or seven people, all shouting over each other, harried and barking. The voices clash like cymbals in your brain but you hear one voice distinctly above the others. Max. You know you hear Max. You hear him say don’t let her die, his voice almost melodic in comparison to the rest.

You think you open your eyes but it can’t be real because everything is red. Everything. 

The smell of warm apple crumble fills your senses, and you’re pretty sure that’s what wakes you up. Not the incessant beeping of multiple hospital machines, or alarms blaring from speakers above you, or the yelling of the medical staff in a language you don’t understand. No, it’s the apple, brown sugar, and butter that invades your nose, your mouth, your brain. 

You feel the warmth of it on your face, hot out of the oven. You’re pretty sure you can even taste it. Eventually you gather the strength to open your eyes and you see Max Phillips. You watch him prick his fingertip with his fang, gathering a drop of blood on his finger and moving it underneath your hospital gown. His eyes move to your face and he’s surprised to find you awake.

“Sorry, I-” he starts, and retracts his hand slightly. “This is just-”

His hand continues up the thin garment and you gasp when he smears the blood on his fingertip over a very sore spot on your leg. It’s high inside your thigh and you can’t remember how it got there. You’d be more embarrassed or shocked that Max was putting his hand there if it didn’t hurt so bad and then almost immediately feel so much better.

He then brings his hand up to your face. You see his fingertip still leaking a bit of blood.

“Open your mouth,” he orders, his words a song in your head.

You know he’s using his hypnotic vampire powers on you, but you know they don’t work. By now he should also know they don’t work. Whatever you are, whatever this thing is that you carry in your blood, vampire powers don’t work on you. Wait, why the fuck is your tongue sticking out of your open mouth? What is happening? Why is your body obeying him?

He slowly lowers his finger to your tongue, dabbing the remaining drop of blood on it.

“Swallow.”

You do. You don’t understand why, but you follow his command. 

“Sleep,” he whispers, his hot-cider-scented breath wafting over you. 

Your body obeys him again and falls into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The next time you opened up your eyes you were back in your own bed. Your uncle said you'd been knocked out for the better part of a week but you felt like a million bucks when you woke up. It's finally over, he’d said. Finally over. You asked him what he meant and he said Don't you feel that? Feel what? You didn't feel anything. Exactly, he said. Don't feel anything. 

Gone was the constant hunger, gone was the clawing emptiness, gone was the magnetic pull towards a minion of death. 

Zeno was dead. That much you knew. You could feel it. Oz could feel it. How, why, or by whose hand he had no idea. He just knew that he woke up two days after you’d left for Cairo and felt the best he'd ever felt in his life. You were inexplicably back in your bed, and all his fears were miraculously gone. 

You saw Oz laughing for the first time in years. He’d even felt up to planning a vacation to make up for lost time, though you declined to join him. You knew he was somewhere in Peru according to his latest email. You stayed home, trying to adjust to your new life as well, but there were still questions in your mind that seemed to be holding you back. Maybe just one question.

Where was Max Phillips?

You get your answer two nights later when you hear a knock at your front door, finding him standing in his trademark three-piece-suit on your front steps. He smiles at you before sniffing the air. He skips over the salutations and small talk.

“Where’s your uncle, sweetheart?”

“He’s back in his-”

“No, he’s not,” Max interrupts with a sly smile. You roll your eyes.

“Somewhere along the Amazon.”

“There’s the truth,” he looks across your face, taking you in for a moment. “You look…..” he trails off, then brings one hand up in sweeping motion, wafting the scent of butterscotch towards you. With a toothy grin he asks, “you gonna invite me in?”

Several hours later you’re standing in your kitchen, cheeks warm from drink and sore from laughter, pouring the last drops of your second bottle of wine into both of your glasses. He’d told you what he’s been up to for the last month - traveling the world he said. You lied and told him you’d been looking into doing the same.

You tell more lies when he asks about how your job hunt is going (good, just waiting on some call backs), if you’ve been making any new friends (meeting people every day), and how you’ve been feeling (totally great and not sad at all). You even think he bought the fake new hobby you made up (Knitting? Is that what you’d said?).

“You look well,” he huffs out, finally finishing the thought he started on your doorstep.

“You too,” is your awkward response as you turn, setting the bottle down on the counter behind you, hoping he doesn’t notice you cringe.

“Well, I always look this good,” he quips, never humble, “but you were in pretty rough shape last time I saw you.”

Memories that you had subconsciously pushed down come flooding back into your mind. Max was there. He was in Cairo. He saved you. What had he saved you from? You couldn’t really remember. You hadn’t been able to remember for weeks, the fuzzy images retreating further and further from your grasp with each passing day.

“You were there,” it’s not a question. You remember that much.

“I’m always there,” he says immediately.

“You saved me…”

“I always save you.

“You saved me from him, didn’t you?” A beat finally passes without an answer. Barely a whisper, “You killed him.”

“You remember that?” He tries to hide his smile.

“I remember your voice. I remember your smell,” you admit.

“My smell? What do I smell like?”

“You don’t know?”

“It’s different for everybody. What do I smell like to you, sweetheart?” he leans forward and tucks his face into your neck, inhaling the heat coming off of you as his own scent invades your nose. Pumpkin pie, mulled wine, and line-dried flannel.

“You smell like fuckin’ autumn,” you manage to get out before he catches your lips with his own.

He grabs your face in both hands and continues kissing you as he walks you backwards down the hall towards your bedroom. How does he know where your bedroom is? His tongue licks over your bottom lip and you feel lightheaded. All thought processes are interrupted when - unhappy with your slow pace - he picks you up and carries you bridal-style into your bedroom.

Tossing you on your bed, he undresses with inhuman speed, completely naked before you’ve even stopped bouncing on the springs. He prowls towards you, crawling on the bed overtop you, his legs slotting between yours, his arms caging your shoulders on either side.

“Why did you choose me over him?” Your words are barely audible to you over your own pounding heartbeat. He dips his head so his lips brush against the shell of your ear. You smell his sweet honeyed breath and hear him sigh your name.

“I always chose you,” he kisses a path along the line of your jaw until he reaches your chin, placing a long kiss on your lips. “And you know why.”

Your eyes fall closed as he continues his trail of kisses down your body, gently removing your clothing as he goes. Max firmly pinches one nipple until it is tight and stinging, then he brings his mouth over it to draw soft circles with the tip of his tongue, soothing the pebbled flesh. He sucks at the sensitive peaks, laving his tongue along the curve of your breasts and mouthing the underside, dividing his attention equally between them.

Unable to take much more of his torment, you grab his hair with both hands and moan his name. Understanding your message, he moves down your body, divesting you of the rest of your clothing. You can’t stop the shiver that shoots up your spine when you look down and see him, fangs bared, between your thighs.

“Don’t be scared, sweetheart,” he coos, placing kisses on the soft places inside your legs.

“I’m not.”

“That’s my good girl,” he hums.

His fingers spread you open as his flat tongue licks you with delicate strokes. He starts small but as you begin to moan and writhe underneath him he is soon reaching his tongue from your asshole to your clit, lapping at your arousal in between. When you grab at his hair again and your cries become insistent, he doubles down on his efforts on your nub. 

Max has you seeing stars only minutes after entering the room. Before you can feel any kind of embarrassment for how easy it was for him to wind you up, he’s latched his mouth back on to you. Still sensitive from your climax, he’s careful to apply only gentle pressure to your core. Easily pushing a finger into your entrance, slick with your release, he begins to massage upward.

If the first orgasm came quickly, then the second one could be called instantaneous. You’re hoarsely crying out his name as it washes over you, tears spilling out of your clenched shut eyes and running down your face. You watch as Max pushes the finger that was inside your cunt into his wet mouth, wrapping his tongue around it for an especially lewd view.

Max Max Max. You repeat his name over and over. 

“Max, please.”

“Please what, baby?” his voice is back at your ear

“You’ve been torturing me for so long, please just fuck me already,” you notice how whiny your own voice sounds but you can’t help it.

“We haven’t even been in this room for ten minutes and I’ve made you come twice, how exactly am I torturin’ you, hmm?” As if he doesn’t know.

“The dreams Max, the dreams.”

“You’ve been dreamin’ about me angel?” He drags his lips down your neck and across your collarbone, moving his face back up to your other ear.

“You know I have, you put a spell on me.” You feel him chuckle in your ear.

“That’s not a spell. That’s just called you being in fuckin’ love with me.”

“No I-” 

You’re cut off by his mouth on your lips again. You watch him kiss you, his eyes closed, his fangs retracted, gentle at first and then growing more needy. You close your eyes too and lose yourself in the movements of his mouth, his tongue, the taste of you, the taste of him. Your hands roam his body, and it hits you suddenly… maybe he’s right. He pulls back to look at you.

“I love you too,” he responds to words you didn’t say.

You feel him then, pressing hard against your entrance and you spread your legs to open up for him. He pushes forward and finally, finally, begins to ease himself inside of you. You gasp, looking into his eyes as he stutters his hips, moving into you inch by inch. You think you must sound pitiful, but you can’t do anything about the breathy moans that leave your mouth now. You’ve been thinking about this moment for so long and now it’s happening, and it feels better than you ever imagined it could.

Your arms are wrapped around him, pulling him tight tight tight against you and you can’t stop kissing him. He seems more than happy to oblige as his mouth meets yours over and over. You hear him say baby, say sweetheart, say your name. You hear him tell you he loves you, breathing it into your mouth repeatedly. He pulls your body up off the bed a bit, holding you tight in his arms as the tempo of his hip thrusts increases.

Your head lolls back now, unable to keep kissing him while you groan louder and louder, telling him that you’ve dreamed of this, that he feels so good, that you need him. Spurred on by your praise, he snaps his hips into yours harder and faster, moving his body away enough to reach his hand between you. He rubs his thumb up and down over your hooded bud and brings you to another explosive peak in his embrace. 

You spend the rest of the night taking your time with each other, bringing each other to orgasm after orgasm, so many that you lose count. It becomes clear to you that Max has been just as enamored with you as you have been with him. All of his bravado and even his superhuman abilities fall by the wayside when you take him into your mouth and tell him how much you love him, how much you love his dick.

In the quiet moments of recovery you take deep breaths, talk about your shared past, and even make some plans for a future that includes each other. At one point your curiosity gets the better of you, as you recall several moments over the years.

“What do I smell like to you?” You ask as your head rests on his chest. He leans his face down and buries it in the crown of your head, sniffing you, and placing a kiss there before he pulls away.

“You smell like home, sweetheart.

🖤

(that got so sappy at the end I'm sorry it turned into a vampire love story)

[dongfuck]

First Snow - p.js

pairing: boyf!jisung x fem!reader

genre: fluff, smut

warnings: very unrealistic food themes (jisung cooks), switch!reader, switch!jisung, unprotected sex, teasing, thigh riding (sorta), slight js!bratty sub, cunnilingus, fingering, degradation, overstimulation, edging, teasing, no pull out, squirting, slight boob play, aftercare

wc: 3.9k

note: this is simply very wholesome for me <3

taglist: @smuchsmut , @nctgirlok297 , @jenojammin , @johnniverse , @matchahyuck , @220513080208 , @ablackbtsstan , @tyongspice1

You began dating Jisung in mid-May so you’ve never really spent winter with him as a couple. You’ve been anticipating your first snow with Jisung ever since he mentioned the things he wanted to do with you this winter. The both of you are currently seated by the fire in your shared house watching a baking show. Jisung’s really fond of baking shows and you’ve never really know why. Although, you aren’t complaining. You are a big fan of them as much as he is. Suddenly, you felt this urge to look out the window and so you did just that. Twisting your head slightly, you averted your gaze from the TV and that’s when you saw small specks of white falling from above.

Gasping audibly, you ran towards the window and watched the snow in awe. “Jisung!” you called out for your boyfriend who was too focused on the show to notice your enthusiasm. “Yep?” his eyes were still trained on the telly. “Jisung, its snowing!” you turned your body to face him before pointing out the window. Jisung’s eyes widened slightly as he walked to your side to watch the snow with you. “Wow…” a small smile was carved on his pretty lips. Staring at him, you placed a small peck to his right cheek. His eyes moved to to look at you before a hint of red was beginning to form on his cheeks. You smiled slightly at the sight before tugging on his sleeve.

“You wanna go outside?” you waited for a reply from him. He glanced you again and smiled softly. “Why not?” right then, he pulled you out of the living room and to the outside. You looked up a the sky and grinned happily as you tried catching snowflakes with your bare hands. “Wait. Don’t move. Let me picture this.” Jisung pulled out his phone from his right pocket before taking a few pictures of you. You probably spent about half an hour playing outside in the snow before deciding to stop seeing as you would probably freeze to death if you stayed out any longer. You walked back into the house with a cheery feeling blossoming in you. “Go take a shower. I’ll make dinner.” you boyfriend rubbed your back comfortingly. “Really? Thank you, Ji. Just make sure not to burn the kitchen down.” the both of you laughed after he assured you that no flames will be seen tonight.

You chose to wear a simple sweater paired with some black tights. Putting on some light makeup, you finished off your look with a nude coloured lipstick and a layer of lip gloss. After spraying on your favourite perfume, you stepped out of the room and waited for Jisung to finish showering in the living room. He entered the shower a while after you did so you’re assuming that his dinner is done. About ten minutes later, you heard footsteps coming down the stairs along with a soft singing of EXO-K’s ‘First Snow’. “Hey.” Jisung tapped your shoulder from behind as he flashed his signature gummy smile which you blushed slightly at.

“Let’s eat.” he walked over to your side of the sofa before pulling you towards the dining room. You stared at the food served in utter shock. There were roasted chicken, baked Mac N Cheese, mashed potatoes and mushroom soup. All party-sized. “Woah, Jisung… I appreciate you making dinner for us but isn’t this a little too much for just two people?” you questioned him. “Who said we’re going to be the only ones?” just then, a loud “Surprise!” was heard from behind you as a few of your friends walked out. “What the fuck—” you grinned happily at them as you yelled out, “I missed you guys!” before hugging the one closest to you, which just so happens to be Chenle.

“Hey, hey, hey, no touching please.” Jisung pulled you and Chenle away from each other before gesturing for all of them to take a seat. The lot of you spent most of your time talking rather than eating and before you know it, it’s already half past nine. As you were chatting with the guys, an unexpected question makes both you and Jisung choke on your food. “When are you guys getting married?” Mark asked before shoving a spoonful of Mac N Cheese into his mouth. After you’ve calmed yourself down, you patted Jisung’s back to soothe his coughing. “Hyung… We’re still young…” Jisung cleared his throat. “I mean you never know. Anything can happen.” Mark shrugged before the whole room erupted into a fit of laughter.

Out of the blue, Jeno stood up from his seat and smiled lightly. “I have an announcement to make.” he said. Everyone took glances at each other before their gaze drifted back to Jeno. “I have a girlfriend.” Gasps were heard all around the room since Jeno hadn’t dated anyone for the past two years. “Damn, I really thought you lost your game.” Haechan teased. “Shut the fuck up, Donghyuck.” Jaemin glared at the mentioned boy after receiving an annoying smirk from him. “Oh my God! How long have you been dating her?” you spoke with excitement.

“For about a month now.”

“And you just told us now?!”

“What’s her name?” Renjun asked as he sipped on his juice. “Kwon Sera. We met at the clinic I work at.” he said proudly. “Do you have a picture of her?” Chenle looked just as excited as everyone in the room. “Yeah, I do actually. Here’s a picture of us together.” he then pulled out his phone from his back pocket and began scrolling through his photos before finally picking one to show. “Dang, she’s pretty.” complimented Haechan. “Hey. She’s Jeno’s.” you said sternly. “I know, I know. Chill woman.” Haechan replied. After a few rounds of questions and answers, you guys were settled in a circle in the living room.

A game of Never Have I Ever was played.

“Never have I ever… peed and it got all over the place.” All of the boys closed a finger and you cringed visibly. “Disgusting.” you shivered dramatically. “It’s natural!” Haechan defended himself. “Maybe for you!” you continued. “Never have I ever not shower for a whole week.” Jisung interrupted the two of you. Chenle was the only one who had his second finger closed and you all turned to look at him with disbelief. “What? I’m saving water!” Chenle shrugged at the rest of you. “Please tell me you showered before you came here.” Jaemin looked at him expectantly. “What do you think I am? Of course I showered!” Chenle rolled his eyes playfully.

“Okay, um… Never have I ever… kissed a person of the same gender.” A few of you closed a finger. Specifically Jaemin, you, and Haechan. “You have?!” Jisung yelled in shock when he noticed you have a finger closed. “I was 17, okay! It was an accident anyways.” you reassured your boyfriend. “I hope it was.” Jisung placed a firm hand on your right thigh. “Mine wasn’t.” Haechan smiled smugly. “No one’s talking to you.” almost everyone in the room snapped at him with a playful glare. “Fine! Jesus, why is everyone against me today.” he shook his head side to side. “My turn! Never have I ever… wished for someone’s downfall.” Chenle smiled happily. Yours, Haechan’s, and Renjun’s finger were closed. “I know y’all aren’t that nice.” Renjun glared at the rest. “Too bad, we are.” Jaemin smiled innocently. “Mark, you’re quiet. Why don’t you give it a go.” Jeno nudged his friend’s shoulder. “Um… Never have I ever, got rejected.” Jaemin unfortunately, had his finger closed.

You guys looked at him in shock. Why would anyone reject someone as charming as Jaemin? “Before you ask, yes, I’ve been rejected before. It was in 10th grade. I had a crush on this girl that was in the class next to mine. We’ve never really spoken to each other before but I finally decided to confess to her. That’s when she laughed in my face and told me how much of a joke I was thinking that someone so out of my league would accept me before taking off. It hurt. Bad. But i’m over it.” Jaemin placed an upside-down smile on his face as his gaze drifted to you. “Damn it, Mark why you gotta ask something like that.” it was faintly heard but you were sure it came from Jeno. “Jaemin… I’m so sorry.” you bit your lower lip gently as the feeling of guilt began rising in you.

“Don’t be. I-It wasn’t your fault…” he fiddled with his finger nervously. “Okay um why don’t we continue the game. I don’t want this to ruin the mood.” Jaemin added. “Right. Who wants to go next?” Mark said. A few minutes passed and it was time for the boys to go home. “Thank you for tonight. We had loads of fun. We’ll see you on Christmas?” Jeno represented the boys to speak. “Thank you for coming too. Definitely looking forward to Christmas. Jisung grinned at them as he slid an arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

“Happy holidays, lovebirds.”

You sat down at the edge of the bed before laying your back on it. Sighing, you heard the door to your room being opened and closed. “God, I’m so tired. Jisung joined you on the bed by laying down next to you. “So am I.” you twisted your head slightly to look at the boy beside you just to see him with his eyes closed and arms spread out. The edge of your lips curved into a small smile at the sight before you went over to him and hugged him by the waist. His body twitched slightly in shock but calmed down afterwards when he realised it was just you.

“You’re freezing.” Jisung wrapped his arms around your body as he hugged you tight. “Jisung…” you said into his chest before you felt him him against you. “I miss spending time with you like this. Just the two of us.” you can hear a soft laugh coming from the man above you. “Have I not spent enough time with you sweetheart?” Jisung caressed the top of your head slowly. “It’s not that… It’s just that we’ve been really busy lately and when we do spend time together, it’s mostly spent with friends or family. It’s like we don’t have time for each other anymore.” you confessed. It’s not like you weren’t telling the truth or anything.

There was a sigh heard from Jisung and you knew he couldn’t help but agree. “I’m trying, sweetheart. I really am. And I’m sorry you feel that way.” his voice was a hushed whisper but it was still loud enough for your ears. “But I think I know a way I can make it up to you.” you lifted your head to meet his eyes before furrowing your brows at his statement. “What do you mean?” A subtle smirk crawled its way up Jisung’s face and only then you knew what he meant by ‘making up to you’ “Sung!” you hit his shoulder lightly and laughed along with him. “What? What were you thinking?” he teased. “Ugh, shut up.” you rolled your eyes playfully at him.

“But I mean like… Don’t you want to? his gaze changed and in a blink of an eye, he was already on top of you. “Jisung…” you said nervously. “Please?” he asked with a soft gaze. Biting your lower lip softly, you nodded slowly before pulling him into a loving kiss. His right hand moved under your sweater as the other roamed your upper body. Without you noticing, he had unclasped your bra and began massaging your breasts. “Fuck.” you pulled away from the kiss for air before staring into his eyes. Pulling his top over his head, you grazed his bare chest gently and placed wet kisses to his toned abs. “Now that’s just unfair, innit?” Jisung reached the hem of your sweater before taking it off of you as you giggled quietly. Subconsciously, your hand that was on his body reached the zipper of his pants.

“Want me to take it off?” you said teasingly as you played with the hem of his boxers. “Please do.” Jisung physically shivered when you traced the print of his dick on his red boxers. “And why should I listen to you?” you looked up to meet his eyes innocently and the way his brown hair hung from his face has you squirming under him. “‘Cause if you don’t I’m gonna blow your brains off.” his eyes opened and he’d almost intimidate you if it wasn’t for the fact that this was Jisung you’re talking about. “Are you now? You’re a big boy now aren’t you?” you smiled softly with a pat of his head. You were suspicious of why he wasn’t replying or biting back but that’s when you noticed him grinding his crotch on the bed.

The sight was hot, to be completely honest. But you wouldn’t admit that to him so you simply pinched his chin and made him look at you in the eye. “You think I wouldn’t notice you whoring in front of me?” you raised a brow in anticipation. “Don’t care.” he continued his movements once again and that’s when you lost it. Taking advantage of his daze, you quickly flipped him over so you were on top. “Hey— What the fuck??” Jisung tried to get a hold of you but his attempts only went so far before he had his arms pinned above his head. “You don’t know what you’re doing.” he sounded as if he was warning you but you couldn’t care less.

“Oh, but I do.” not wanting to hear any more of his whines and complaints, you sealed your lips with his in a heated kiss. You could feel his tongue prodding at your sealed lips but you aren’t the one to give in without a fight. Parting your lips slightly, you allowed his tongue to barely fit in you before you sucked on the pink muscle desperately. Though it wasn’t visible to the human eye, you were sure he was loving every single second of it. He tried to wiggle his tongue out of you but you were sucking on it so hard that he couldn’t help but comply. Unconsciously, your hands that were holding him up began loosening and without you noticing, he’s already got his hands wrapped around waist firmly.

You moaned into the kiss as you pressed your hips closer to his crotch to gain some sort of friction between your bodies. Jisung seemed to notice this when he began rocking your hips on his as strings of curses and groans left his mouth. “Shit I-I’m not gonna f-fucking cum like this.” he released the kiss with a string of saliva connecting the both of you as his eyes shut and yours trailed to where your bodies were meeting. “Fuck I need to taste you.” Jisung’s eyes snapped open before he frantically tried to take off your tights which didn’t seem to come off. Giggling slightly, you ran a hand through his hair and got off him slowly. “It’s not the easiest to take off.” you shimmied out of the clothing and got back on the bed without breaking eye contact.

Wanting to tease him a little more, you sat down on his upper thigh right next to his obvious bulge (on his boxers) with your bare pussy before starting to rock your hips at a slow pace. “Mmh Y/n… Y/n, please… Please let me—” you rolled your eyes and took a finger to his lips to shut up. “You do what I say.” your tone was warning and adamant and he seemed to give up but you knew it was all pretend. He was gonna pounce on you sooner or later. But for now, you just wanna enjoy being the one in control. It’s not a very common occurrence you know. Moving your hips faster, you leaned your body towards Jisung a little more and held his shoulders for support. “Fuck, Sung…” you whimpered out. It didn’t take long for you to finally cum on him, leaving stains of white on his favourite pair of underwear.

“You should’ve did that in my mouth.” said Jisung as he gaped at the sight in front of him. “Stop it or I actually might.” you looked at him with lustful eyes and he seemed to read your mind. “Try me.” you muttered a small ‘fuck you’ to him before aligning your aching pussy to his awaiting lips. “Let’s see if you can take me.” you bit your lower lip softly. “Oh please, like it’s my first time.” he smirked before placing a quick peck on your lips (those lips) and devouring you whole. His lips sucked on your clit as he teased his fingers around your hole. Throwing your head back, you took your right hand and gripped his hair as hard as you could when you felt him enter two fingers into you. “Yeah, right there.” you were trying your absolute hardest to keep your noises in but unfortunately, it wasn’t that easy. In fact, you saw that as an advantage to piss Jisung off a little more.

“Fuck— Is that the best you c-can do? I can do that on my o-own.” you rolled your eyes in annoyance and after the little push you gave him, you heard him scoff under you before working both his mouth and fingers to the absolute fullest. “Fucking hell, Jisung!” once again, you came into his mouth without a warning but he didn’t seem to be stopping his movements. “Sung, s-stop…” you attempted to push him away but he wouldn’t budge. Not even a little bit. His tongue licked a long stripe across your swollen pussy and you felt like you were gonna pass out at that moment. Who knew Jisung could be this cruel? Right as you were at the brink on your second orgasm, your boyfriend seemed to notice it because he immediately lets go of your heat with a delicious ‘pop!’

He didn’t seem—or just pretended not—to notice the glare you gave him before stripping off his last item of clothing and having you under him. “I think it’s my turn to have some fun.” Jisung gave a small peck to your lips as he stroked his dick to warm him up with his saliva. Teasing your clit with the tip of his cock, he smirked when a whine escaped your throat, “Just fuck me already.” you threw your head back in slight annoyance after having to wait for what feels like a decade. “As you wish.” gripping your shoulder for support, Jisung slowly slid himself into you halfway with a shaky moan. “Fuck…” he bit his lip in frustration as he pulled out all the way (to which you moaned incredibly loud at) before fucking back into you, this time with more confidence.

Sighing desperately, Jisung slowly started to move in and out of you easily. Your chest heaved up and down with the feeling of your boyfriend’s cock fitting inside you so well. When the base of his length kissed your entrance, you unintentionally clenched hardly against him. “Shit— Don’t do that.” he said warningly with a glare sent to you. “Do what? This?” you squeezed him once again and you could feel him twitch inside of you. He had his eyes shut and to torture him a little more, you moved your hips on his length with teasing glint in your eyes. His breathing was beginning to get heavier and unsteady and you couldn’t help but let out a desperate moan at the sight.

At that. Jisung snapped his eyes opened and leaned forward so his lips could meet your ear and whisper, “You’re getting on my nerves.” before ruthlessly rutting his hips into you without a care for the world. He lifted his head to meet your eyes and you saw the way his sweat dripped from his forehead to your chest and rolled down to where he was completely ruining you. You let out a dragged moan at the euphoric feeling and you felt like you could cum anytime soon. Right then, Jisung pulled out of you abruptly before you looked at him with furrowed brows. “Excuse me, what the actual fuck?” you said with your voice slightly raised.

“I wanna see something.” he took his right hand and used it to massage your wet heat with his pre-cum before plunging his middle and ring finger into you. His hand movements were just as merciless as his thrusts from earlier and this time you felt something different bubbling inside you. It’s a mixture of wanting to pee and wanting to orgasm. You screamed loudly when his fingers abused that spot inside you and right then, hot liquid started flowing out of you. Did you just pee? Or is it something else? “I needed this.” you heard Jisung mutter under his breath and just a few moments later after he pulled his fingers away from you in a split second, you felt like you just gave birth. You’d squirted all over your boyfriend, yourself, and the sheets and you couldn’t have felt more embarrassed than this. “That was a good one, baby.”

He didn’t give you time to gather yourself before another question left his mouth, “Wanna try another one?” he raised his eyebrows. “Hell no.” you shook your head side to side with droopy eyes. “Awh, you can’t get tired already. I haven’t even had my fun yet.” he pouted mockingly. “Can you just let me… catch my breath for a second?” you said between heavy breaths. “Not a chance.” and there it was again. The feeling of being stuffed to the brim as he thrusted into you with the speed of 10 thrusts/s. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you could feel your fourth orgasm reaching its peak. A string of curses and groans left both of your throats and within a few seconds you both came at the exact same time with a long moan.

Laying down next to you, Jisung wrapped an arm around your waist and kissed the top of your head. “We should do this more often.” he rubbed circles onto your backside to which you clenched against him as a reply. “You— You never really learn your—” before he could finish whatever he was trying to say, you quickly lifted your head and pecked him on to the cheek with a smile. “Merry Christmas, Jisung.” you hugged him tightly. “It’s still earl—” once again you clenched against him tighter than before to shut him up. “M-Merry Christmas, Y/n.”

jisung I swear—

[jeeseth]

sorry! , izna ot7

pairing , izna x fem!reader

context , how will izna apologise to their girlfriend after an argument!

tags — fluff! might be a little angsty tho, drabble?, idol/non-idol au, literally a different ways of apologising, this is just how i think the izna members will apologise!

﹟mai !

mai will def be the type that will apologise to you IMMEDIATELY after you two had a fight, like i can already imagine her holding your hands while apologising slowly to you 🥹 PLUS her loving and caring gaze staring right into your almost teary one at hearing her apology.

"baby, i’m sorry i didn’t mean it. i love you so much." she apologised while interviewing your hands with her!

i love our calm baby, like how can you stay mad at her when she’s looking you in the eyes while speaking to you softly. I LOVE HER SO MUCH

﹟jeemin !

our calm baby number two! will definitely stay quiet (sulk) for a while then she’ll realised that it was actually her fault and would come running to apologise to you <3

imagine you’re just chilling in the bedroom and she suddenly come running to you like a puppy seeing its owner! she’s a bear tho but whatever. anyway, i literally can see her standing over at the door with the biggest guilt look on her face.

"baby… i’m sorry." she mumbled, looking down on the floor. you swear you immediately forget that you’re mad at her once you saw the pout on her face. i would too tbh

﹟jiyoon !

she’s lowkey testing your patience even more after the fight AND during the fight (argument). jiyoon staring at you blankly as you keep scolding her, how can it not piss you off? but that’s the thing! she knew about it and she tried her best to try and get your forgiveness since she can’t stand the silent treatment you’re giving her.

imagine waking up the next day and you open your front door to get some fresh air but then, you see a bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolate on your doorstep! oh and of course you saw a little note saying ‘sorry for pissing you off.’

dw, you texted her after that and said i love you to her! which makes the worry in jiyoon’s heart melt away!

"i love you more, stupid"

﹟koko !

one thing about her is that i can clarify that she’s a bit stupid! but cute kind of stupid obv <3 she won’t even understand that you were scolding her but after she realised it, she would just stare off to space and think about how should she apologise to you.

well the first thing she tries to do is definitely not to approach you… let’s just say that koko is the type to be scared of her own girlfriend. who wouldn’t but anyway! she’ll def tried to bake something but ended up almost burning the house down. you immediately rush to the kitchen after smelling something burning and you’re laughing your ass off after seeing all the flour splattered on her face. and that’s how you forget that you were mad at her! girlie barely tried and is already forgiven <3

﹟sarang !

clingy. physical touch. kisses. three words to describe the ryu sarang. you were already getting skeptical when you saw sarang just smiling at you as you scold her, but sarang just couldn’t resist the urge to kiss your stupid face right there! it does caught you off guard but it also does lessen your madness a bit!

"what was that for?"

"that’s the only way to make you stop scolding me" sarang giggle and pulls you into a tight hug like nothing happened. you don’t blame her tho, you really enjoyed being in her warm embrace <3!!

﹟jungeun !

hmm… why do i feel like she’ll just say a quick ‘sorry’ then went to sulk in her bedroom. jungeun def HATES fighting or arguing with you. so after every argument it’s always ended up with HER giving you the silent treatment… only for a while tho because it doesn’t affect you at all but it does affect her!

so she’ll just straight ahead and stand in front of you while you’re watching Netflix on the couch.

"i’m sorry. please don’t be mad at me. it was my fault."

cutie.

﹟saebi !

our cute crybaby!!! she would already be breaking into tears as soon as you stop arguing with her. she tried to not make it obvious that she’s literally bawling her eyes out but her sniffles really betrays her. also saebi sucking in harsh breath every five seconds 😭 i can imagine it.

would immediately failed at holding back her tears and went to cry into your arms instead. i’m not sure how’s that possible since she’s sooo tall but.. it’s fine cause it’s saebi!

and that’s how you spend the next few hours comforting her as she keeps apologising to you. it was cute tho it got you giggling the whole time.

"i-i’m.. i’m sorry.. please don’t leave- don’t laugh!" she sobbed burying her face on your shoulders <3

[hiroshiii13]

A Little Sweetness

"Ow!" Shang Qinghua was having the worst day. His tooth ached and a dentist appointment confirmed that he had to get a dental filling for a tooth. 

Besides the heartache he felt after paying an exorbitant fee, he felt a dull ache from all the scraping he had to endure at the dentist's. Qinghua shuddered as he remembered the ordeal. 

Mobei pushed his cheeks together, the warm palms squeezing the plush flesh. “Are you still eating too much sweets?”

“No I’m not!!” QH protested as much as he could— which isn’t much, as MBJ continued to squeeze his cheeks like his personal stress ball. 

Squish

Squish

“Okay, okay, if QH says so, but maybe I should still see for myself.” MBJ looked at him teasingly, with a mischievous look in his eye,

“just to be sure.”

—

Mbj began his earnest pursuit. Kissing at his jaw, down to his chin, slowly making his way towards his lips and closed the distance between them.

Qinghua covered his lips with his hands, his face starting to have a tinge of pink, seemingly baked by the warmth of the sun.

“Will Qinghua let me in hmm?” MBJ smiled, coaxing the hand that blocked his lips with kisses, wearing down his defenses with all that urging.

But QH was sensitive!! Not even in a sexy-breed-me way but in a-my-teeth-still-hurt-from-being-scraped-and-filled-in kind of way. 😩 

“No!” QH pouted, a blush steadily climbing up his skin which only made MBJ want to tease him even more. So childish yet lovable all the same, he thought. 

Mobei Jun took that opportunity to trap Qinghua's arms, as he kissed more fervently. A hunger building up from the pit of his stomach as he slowly left gentle bites; a pleading in the guise of tugging on QH’s lips. 

“Are you sure?” MBJ smiled knowingly. 

Qinghua's eyes darted down, he couldn't look at Mobei jun or his resolve would crumble down.

And crumble down, it did.

It didn’t take long until MBJ was sucking on his tongue while rubbing his hands across QH’s lower back.

Qinghua could feel himself stir, it didn't help that Mobei Jun's hands already knew which buttons of his to press. He was already feeling lightheaded when MBJ felt his way towards his inner thigh. He was at his limit!! He gasped for much needed air, breaking the kiss, much to both of their disappointment.

"I thought you’ve been cutting back on sugar, so why do you taste so sweet?" MBJ whispered in his ear.

Qinghua groaned and forcefully put his head on MBJ’s shoulder. He wanted to bang his head on the wall. THAT WAS TOO CORNY!!!

He should’ve cringed but for some reason it went straight to his heart instead. He's so frustrating! He squeezed MBJ into a tight hug and bit his shoulder to vent.

"N-no, that should be wrong. I told you I was cutting back. Why would I need sweets, when I have you?" FUCK. FUCK. HE WAS WORSE FOR PLAYING INTO IT.

He wanted to stay on the crook of MBJ's neck like an ostrich hiding but MBJ’s shoulders started to shake from holding back a laugh. QH was about to get defensively angry, but was suddenly stopped with a light kiss on his forehead. 

"What do you want to eat? I’ll make you what you want."

Ah, forget it. He loved this man too much to care anymore.

[END]

Everyone else trying to ignore them at the dentist’s: 🧍🧍🧍

I’m kidding, they're at home, I just wanted them to be so in love its insufferable. 

[soobrat]

mosquito; csb

part two; maybe tuesday? masterlist

˗ˏˋ🎧´ˎ˗ pairing; popstar!soobin x rising star!reader

˗ˏˋ🎧´ˎ˗ words; 9.3k

˗ˏˋ🎧´ˎ˗ genre; slight angst, fluff

˗ˏˋ🎧´ˎ˗ warnings; none that I can think of, Soobin kinda hates you

Last Week

“We baked too much. Again.” Rebekah huffs worriedly. You rest your fists on your hips, copying her. Her eyes bounce around all the baked goods as her mind clouds with gloom. You nudge her with your elbow to snap her out of it. She looks over at you in confusion. 

“No such thing.” You raise your eyebrows cheekily. Bekah scoffs, finally noticing your pose. 

“What’d I tell you about copying me.” Bekah’s voice suddenly peaks as she lurches for you. You yelp and jump out of the way. She chases you out of the kitchen into what you assume to be an empty seating area. You glance out, shocked to see butts in seats. Bekah notices the look on your face.

“What? The bunny girl’s here again isn’t she–” She starts off amused and ends up excited. She claps her hands together as she approaches the patrons gleefully. You don’t fail to notice that the “bunny girl” is here today, her high school uniform on as always. But you’re more focused on the fact that the group seated at the adjacent booth seem oddly familiar. When they glance around Bekah’s frame to look at you, your stomach drops. Not right now.

One of the girls calls out your name and you nearly shield your face. You finally recognize her, as well as everyone else at the table. You loosen up. 

“Hey, it’s been a while.” You step closer cautiously.

“It has, and you seem… exactly the same.” Your old classmate looks you up and down with astonishment. For just a brief moment, you’re transported to middle and high school and how miserable that was. But the moment passes and a smile spreads on your face even as they laugh. 

“Are you guys familiar with this place?” You ask, finally walking up to the table. 

“No… is it usually this dead?” A male peer asks this time, earning a snort by a girl hiding her face in his shoulder. Bekah is turned around by this point, eyes wide and signaling for you to give her permission to enter mom mode. You glance at the high schooler and she jerks her attention away. Not before you could catch her undivided attention on you.

“Yeah, and this is what I do now. You guys coming here isn’t going to change that or how I feel about it once you leave. If you couldn’t pressure me to hate myself during all of middle and high school, I’m not sure why you think it’d work now.” You return their astonishment at you, making eye contact with each of them. 

“What is she talking about…”

“I’m just thinking out loud. Now,” you pull out the notepad you’ve been itching to use since Bekah opened this place, “can I start you guys with anything?” You twirl the pen in your hand, eagerly awaiting an answer. They exchange a confused look before one of the guys holds up the menu. He glances around nervously before turning his attention toward you. You greet him with a welcoming smile.

“Can I get a sweet bun?” 

“You have great taste! It’d be my pleasure.” You reply warmly before jotting it down.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

“Do you have the butterfly pea tea?” You glance back at Bekah as you slide the tray of sweet buns off the counter. Bekah doesn’t answer, just glancing at the doorway of the kitchen. She sets the tea down as she starts toward that direction.

“Do you hear that?” She gives her hands two hefty brushes against her apron as she exits into the dining area. She doesn’t immediately reappear which has you stabilizing your tray and following after her. She looks out into the suddenly bustling dining room with a hand over her mouth. You gaze at her proudly as a smile stretches across your face. 

“I’ll get the tea, you start taking orders!” You urge her on your way to your classmates’ table. She takes a moment but eventually snatches her notepad from her waist excitedly. Three trays later, Bekah is walking beside you with her own. 

“I texted Julia, you can go. I know for a fact you’re busy.” She throws the offer your way with her focus fully on the table she’s walking toward. 

“No! Hi, enjoy.” You switch to a smile as you distribute the table’s food. “No!” You repeat once she rejoins you from serving her table. 

“I can stay here. What I had planned can wait.” You assure her. 

“Are you sure? You’ve got a lot of great stuff going on, I’d hate to keep you from it.” 

You both set your trays on the counter and look at each other. Bekah with a concerned look and you with a scolding one. You can hear the door opening again and even more customers filtering in. There is an “extravagant” party being thrown to celebrate some actress that your publicist wants you to go to. You glance at your watch. If the rush dies down in a few hours you could go, but… 

You think back to when Bekah was babysitting you and how much fun you had together. How she was often your only source of fun. Now you can have just as much fun and support her dream?

“Bekah, you’re so amazing. I mean, all this? Amazing.” You repeat after finding yourself at a loss for words. Bekah clutches her chest.

“Where is this coming from? Thank you.” She pulls you in for a hug. “By the way, if you would’ve given me permission, I would’ve recorded them and put it on tiktok.” She says next to your ear as she sways you back and forth.

“Why did you lie, anyway?” She pulls away once it hits her. You shrug.

“I’m just as proud of this place as I am of my awards. Plus, I get to make money doing my dream job and help my best friend with hers? I’m so lucky.” You beam.

“Okay, you’re gonna make me throw up.” 

She side-eyes you as she loads the next tray. “And you’re sure you didn’t lie for a different reason?”

“Positive.” You answer clearly. “Honest!”

She still seems suspicious on her way out the entryway. She stops momentarily to look back at you.

“There’s nothing wrong with being recognized! In fact, you could use it to your advantage.”

The rush stops about where you predicted it would, but you had fun hanging out with Julia and Bekah in the dining room after cleaning. After tiring yourselves out from laughter and the sun long since setting, you finally prepare to go.

“Great shift today guys!” Bekah turns to you, giving you a nod. “See you next Wednesday?”

“Of course!” You reply swiftly.

Monday

The only thing keeping your aching legs pushing is the fact that you have to be close. At this point you’re barely paying attention to your surroundings, just trucking forward with the hope that you chose the right route. Your eyes remain trained down at the weeds and grass sprouting between segments of sidewalk. You can see a building emerge on your left with a familiar brick pattern but you’re too exhausted to look up. You hunch over and plant your hands on your thighs as you exhale hoarsely. 

“This is that place, the pay-what-you-can one?” A woman points at the building, halting a man you presume is her husband interlocked with her. 

“No way. Either the food sucks or they’re lying.” The man points out incredulously. You can’t help feeling like you’re in a low-budget, poorly scripted advertisement. Somewhat recovering from being winded, you stand up straight with a wide smile plastered on your face.

“It is pay-what-you-can! And the food being vegan might scare you away, but as a non-vegan who loves steak and ice cream too much to give 'em up, their food is delicious.” Deciding to play into the ad vibes, you put on your best pitching voice.

“If you guys ever decide to stop in, try their buns and rolls. It’s what they’re known for. Hence–” You gesture up at the sign you’ve only just looked at, confirming you’re at the right place. Bun Appetit.

The man just stares into the window of the restaurant while the woman squints at you. You deflate, suddenly realizing this is not a set and these are not actors. The woman motions at you with her index finger like something’s on the tip of her tongue. You stiffen up, pre-panicking before she can even get to the conclusion you’re afraid of. 

“Aren’t you–”

“Constance! My name’s Constance, I volunteer here on Wednesdays.” You cut her off, stepping forward to quickly shake her hand in hopes of distracting her further. “Come in,” You urge enthusiastically, “even if you’re just sitting in we appreciate the company.” 

“You just volunteer here and you’re putting this much effort into pitching?” The man asks, judgment oozing from his voice. You open your mouth to rebut, preparing your speech about the importance of contributing to the community and how great volunteering is when you get deja vu. 

page.soobin: what are you, giving an acceptance speech

You shutter as cringe curdles the blood coursing through your veins. You clench your eyes shut, shaking away the thought desperately. The couple stare at you in confusion but enter the restaurant nonetheless. Exhaling, you comb over whatever you can remember of your conversations with Soobin. 

The almost painful sensation in your stomach is only reminiscent of one thing you’re familiar with. Your debilitating middle school crush on Kai Huening. You told his sister two grades under you guys in some sad attempt for validation in a time of confusion and yearning. She laughed in your face, not leaving you with any actual words to cling to. You sat there for the rest of the seven hour long school day terrified of what would happen. You reevaluated, your hair, your smile, the way you spoke, and every article of clothing you wore that he might’ve seen. It was crushing, and your worst nightmare came true when he and his friends looked at you while laughing across the cafeteria.

You joke that he scared you away from crushes for good. There’s a reason your friends call him the guy who made you aromantic. But that’s not entirely true. You just grew out of crushes faster than other people. The next crush after Kai barely even counted, because it was Soobin. You watched his youtube covers with his piano, bad lighting, and bad audio quality and your heart fluttered. But that was a celebrity crush. You didn’t know him back then.

You don’t get crushes. 

You finally walk through the doors, eyes focused on your cardigan as you scrutinize the hue.

“Hey, what’re you doing here! Oh! You’re wearing your cardigan! Wait, did you walk here?” You listen as Rebekah perceives your strange presence, attire, and profuse sweating in that order. You look up from your clothes, huffing as you decide where to start.

“Where did you walk here from? Africa?” She approaches and presses her palm to your forehead. Her mother-like tendencies don’t come from your age gap, she’s only ten years your senior. No, she had already acquired those before the two of you met. The reasons for that bound out of the kitchen toward you, squealing your name. Bekah shooshes the four children who immediately monitor their volume in response. They wrap their arms around you, squeezing their smaller frames in wherever their siblings aren’t. 

“Why are you here?” Noemi’s small voice asks, her speech impediment handling the impossible task of making her cuter very well. 

“Well…” You start with no real intention of finishing. “Oh! I see the new t-shirts were made! Back up so I can see.” You nudge the kids so you could focus on your changed subject and breathe. You react in exaggerated awe as you examine their multi-colored shirts with Bun Appetit printed on the front.

“You guys look great!” You say with a double thumbs up that makes the younger two beam. 

“By the way, you look very pretty today.” Bekah’s oldest child, Mariah chimes in.

“Right?!” The stress that’s been building in you since you left the cafe culminated in an intensity you didn’t plan to show through your voice. The kids flinch slightly from the volume, looking at each other for answers.

“S-sorry.” You chuckle, dragging your palm over your forehead. Bekah, who’s been observing peacefully as her children are finally distracted by something picks up on your mood. 

“Alright, guys. Go either help in the kitchen or sit in the back and get started on your homework. That means you too, Mariah. Don’t just boss your siblings around.” The kids groan as they reluctantly retreat from the dining room. Bekah’s attention flips back to you with concern.

“Are you going to explain why you walked here or are you gonna make me play 20 questions?” Bekah’s motherly tone fails to disengage and it strikes a little fear in you. You both take a seat at one of the many free tables, picking one you both favor right beside the door with a view to boot.

“I was gonna uber but I… I just needed to think.” You breathe through the sentence as if the anxiety is leaking from you. You slouch over, nearly melting onto the table. 

“Okay… but why are you here?” Bekah’s fingers tap onto the table to emphasize how strange it is that you’re here on a Monday. The speed at which you almost went into your “the importance of contributing to your community” speech alarms you. You chew on the inside of your cheek.

“Bekah am I… obnoxious?” You ask perilously. Fear blooms in your chest as if asking the question out loud made you realize it was true. 

“Excuse me? Who said that?! Are you reading comments online?” The way she asks makes you wonder what she’d do if you pointed someone out, because it sounds like she’s ready to fight.

“No, I’ve just been thinking about it.” You say, dropping your head as shame overtakes you. 

“But why? This is all so unlike you.” Worry looms over her words as she leans in, tempted to check your temperature again. You fully drape yourself over the table, omitting a strained noise as you grapple with that feeling. Your phone dings and you fling yourself up so fast it makes Bekah jump. You unlock your phone and check the notification, slouching when it wasn’t what you thought it was. Bekah gasps as she comes to a realization. 

“It’s a boy! Oh my god– it makes so much sense!” Her shock turns to excitement at the look on your face that seemingly confirms it. “Of course you’re finally interested in someone! You’re suitors aren’t stinky scrubs anymore! You probably have the cream of the crop beating down your door. Oh my god… has Taeyang approached you?”

“You mean the married man?” You ask rhetorically, knowing you don’t even need to remind her. 

“I know… what a shame indeed…” She looks wistfully into the distance.

“Ma’am?? You’re married too!” Now you’re questioning if you do have to remind her.

“Anyway, tell me about this man. Is he as famous as you?”

“More famous. When you think of the male pop stars, you think of…” You hope she’ll catch on and finish your sentence. She snaps at you and you know she’s got it.

“Ooh! Daniel Choi?”

You scrunch up your face in disgust. “No.”

“Taemin? Kang Daniel? Mark Lee? Soobin…!” Her face lights up at your silent confirmation. “Of! Course! Ugh, I’ve been wracking my brain on why you’ve been acting so weird recently! You finally met your teenage crush!”

“That doesn’t count! I’ve only had one crush!”

“Man, it took me a second to think of him. Then again, he hasn’t been on the radio in a while. Hey, tell your crush to make more music. I love “Through My Veins”–”

“He’s not my crush. I barely had a crush on him then and I definitely don’t now. I’m just considering him for the duet.” You express sternly, annoyed by the disbelieving look she gives you. 

“Think about it, babe. The person you were obsessed with as a teen to the point where you fantasized about growing up to marry him is right in front of you. It’s only natural for feelings to bloom.” She delivers her take like it’s bad news. But it’s fine. You just don’t have a crush on him, that’s all.

“Look, honestly? I wasn’t a fan like other girls were fans of like… G-dragon when I was growing up. I was moved by his singing, and I was devastated when he joined the Naekkeo Crew. It felt like he loved music the same way I did. I just wanted him to succeed.” You give up toward the end, realizing you sound like a lovestruck teenager either way. 

“This just sounds like more reasons you’d catch feelings for him.”

You interrupt her by grumbling under your breath. Still, the heartfelt way she speaks to you doesn’t go unnoticed. 

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter why I gravitated toward him because I didn’t actually know him. And I don’t know him now, either. I only just met him today.” You mumble begrudgingly.

“You don’t have to know someone to– wait… ARE YOU OUT OF BREATH BECAUSE YOU WALKED STRAIGHT FROM MEETING HIM TO HERE?!” She shouts, standing up from her seat. You glance around in alarm to see if anyone was listening.

“Y-yeah! I told you, I wanted to clear my mind.”

“Take a walk to clear your mind, jot it down in a journal, talk it out with your therapist, do whatever you please; but at the end of the day you have feelings for that man.” She walks away but not before clutching her purse like the stench of how pitiful you are is scaring her off.

“I don’t…” You say feebly, failing to stop her before she disappears into the kitchen. You hear someone call out your name like it was their eureka moment behind you. You turn to see the older woman from earlier with her husband not far behind.

“Excuse me?” You laugh awkwardly. You’re still recovering from what just happened, you don’t have it in you to deal with this at the moment.

“I knew I recognized you!”

“Ah, no ma’am. I get that a lot, but you’ve got the wrong person. Constance, remember?” You try, your heart hurting a little at the way her face falls. She makes the cutest noise of frustration before looking back at her husband.

“I thought it was her!”

“Who?” He croaks loudly, his hearing clearly dwindling.

“Remember? The girl we saw on TV that wrote that song you like?”

“Oh! That… poripeepim–”

“Yeah! Ugh, forget it. Let’s just go.” She tugs her husband who’s trying to get a good look himself. You watch them bicker their way down the street, wishing you could just enjoy having front row seats to their older couple shenanigans. However, it eats at you. Would people find out about you being here?

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

The leather of the couch was starting to stick uncomfortably to his skin. He had already lifted his bare leg so many times he lost count. He should get up, but get up to do what? He lifts his leg again, the sound of the leather peeling away from his skin becoming grating. He can feel every inch of his skin making contact with his couch start to perspire. Desperate, his eyes flutter close as he checks if he still knows the song from his old method of jogging his brain. His fingers pad lightly against his thighs and he can hear the corresponding notes. He gets a few seconds in before the melody dissipates. He grits his teeth, peeling his leg away again. He feels like he’ll explode if it happens one more time, but he can’t focus–

His phone rings and he finally tears his body away from the couch.

“Hello?” He answers the unknown number against his better judgment.

“Hey! Bin-ay! This is Jackson Wang!” Soobin rips the phone away from his ear as Jackson’s voice blares through the speaker. “I got your number from Daniel, is that cool? Look, I want you to come on the next episode of my podcast.”

If he would’ve stopped for an answer, Soobin would’ve expressed that it wasn’t cool. He wouldn’t be surprised if Yeonjun was the reason his phone number got leaked. 

“I heard about your podcast, it’s doing numbers, man.” Soobin can’t help the disinterest in his voice as he rubs his forehead. He prepares his script for letting down offers gently. The last thing he needs is to get on the wrong person’s bad side.

“Exactly, man! Listen, Miyawaki reached out to me to try and get you on this episode.” Jackson says as if he’s admitting to something. Sakura did what?

“It’s all about the leading men in pop. I was gonna reach out to you anyway, you deserve to be in the conversation!” Something about Jackson’s overwhelming bravado leads Soobin to being skeptical. “Save my number, bro. I’ll send you the address of my studio and what time to be there. I know you haven’t been doing much lately but do yourself a favor! We all wanna hear from you.”

Soobin is glad Jackson says a departing greeting and hangs up because Soobin can’t find any words past his embarrassment. He stands there, stunned with his phone still up to his ear. 

He has been invited to lots of podcasts, but if his media training has taught him anything, you shouldn’t just accept every invite for an appearance. You want to walk that line between elusive and available. With podcasts you want to be especially careful. Podcasts have that reputation of being an outlet for people no one cares to hear from. That rings especially true for has-been celebs. But after Jackson explained the premise, it has to do some good, right?

What else was he going to do?

“Look at you!” Yeonjun claps his hand against Soobin’s back, a gesture Soobin has come to understand screams “douche”. Soobin slides down his wayfarers and looks at himself exaggeratedly. 

“Armani?” He asks, nodding toward his polo. Yeonjun sucks his teeth.

“Look at you making an appearance finally. Not hiding in the shadows anymore?” He pats his back again, seemingly to make a point. Soobin refutes it.

“I don’t need to.” He pushes his sunglasses back up as he challenges Yeonjun. Yeonjun makes a familiar face, plainly disagreeing through the way his brows snap together. His eyes bore into Soobin with an intensity that unkindly asks Soobin to be realistic. Only to follow it up with a nauseating look of pity.

“Whatever you say.” says Yeonjun, sliding his palm off his back, but letting it linger just long enough to piss Soobin off. His eyes burn into the back of Yeonjun’s figure, following him until he takes one of the many seats put out for them. His eyes track to each of the men seated currently. Mark Lee, Taemin, Kang Daniel, and a seat assigned to Jungkook. He can’t help noticing he’s the only one here not from KiJi Entertainment. Yeonjun pats the seat next to him with a smirk. Soobin sighs.

“I’m noticing a pattern here.”

Once everyone is accounted for and mic’d up, Jackson starts the interview. He gives a knowing look to everyone but Soobin, which leads him to catching on.

“KiJi boys!” A smile grows on his face in tandem with his volume. The men hoot and holler around him. For far too long, the interview focuses on KiJi and their legacy and their amazing reputation and blah blah blah. He casts a glance at each singer as they speak, checking if they look as brainwashed as they sound. No one likes their label this much. 

“We have an outlier here, ladies and gentleman!” 

Everyone’s attention shifts to Soobin. As if suddenly remembering this is going to be posted publicly, he sits up straight. Clearing his throat, he vocalizes a strained yes.

“Soobin is not under KiJi but he is… wait, your label is Pacific, right?”

“Right.”

“Is that under Galactic, too?”

Before Soobin could answer, everyone around him did. The resolute nature of each ‘no’ makes Soobin squirm in his seat. “Y-yeah, Pacific doesn’t have a parent company.”

“Yet!” Jackson punctuates. Soobin laughs awkwardly.

“I wanna say Pacific is a great company but man, where have you been?” That question always sounds sinister to Soobin’s ears, regardless of delivery. Soobin straightens out his shirt as he delays his answer with filler words. 

“That’s what we all wanna know. We miss seeing you, man!” Yeonjun wraps his arm around Soobin, laying on the pity in his voice thick. 

“I see you two are still close!”

“Yeeaah,” Yeonjun shakes Soobin firmly, “money can’t buy a bond like the one we have.” 

“We love to see it! We need more representation for healthy male bonds!” 

Soobin wants to complain (inwardly) that he’s barely getting a word in, but this is how it always is when Yeonjun’s involved. 

“Now you can be truthful with us, Soobin. Is your company suppressing you or what? Four years? That’s insane!”

“Pacific isn’t to blame,” Soobin is quick to correct, “they do a good job with assisting me actually. It’s just, some projects take time!” He ends the sentence confidently. It’s the excuse he’s used up until now.

“So can we expect some To Pimp a Butterfly level shit for the next album then?” Jackson asked animatedly, resulting in laughter from the other men. Including Soobin who tries to blend in.

“No, no, no…” Soobin corrects lightly.

“Don’t be humble!” Jungkook calls out, escalating the laughter. Soobin scratches the back of his neck. 

“You know, I take pride in my music. I just want to release something I’m proud of and that will make my fans proud.” Soobin expresses. He sounds confident and he feels it too. Everyone around him nods, quiet acknowledgements are made toward him. He tries to smile at the genuinely pleasant moment, but he gets a weird feeling and ends up with more of a grimace.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

“Soobin!” His sister wails out, diving for the casket being lowered into the ground. Soobin reaches out, trying to stop her. He watches her disappear into the hole his own body is being inserted into. His hand reaches out but not far enough. His father and his mother walk away, stone faced. The only people left at the service are people he doesn’t recognize. His family is nowhere to be found and he’s gone himself, but something still tugs at him. Something is still pushing him to notice the dread looming over him. 

“Now that Choi Soobin is gone, who in relation will take his fortune?” A man dressed in a black suit with an umbrella obscuring his face asks. Soobin’s eyes widen with fear as he looks around.

“I will.” Someone else with an umbrella blocking Soobin from identifying walks forward. They’re wearing green as opposed to everyone in black. She drops the umbrella, looking down at the hole. She then looks up at him with a smile. It’s Tsuki.

“I’m his wife after all.”

All of the attendees climb into the hole and reemerge with bundles of cash. They each hand her the money as she beams at him.

“No!” Soobin’s eyes snap open as the word breaks free from his subconscious. He huffs, shivering from his sweat chilling under the air conditioning. He takes note of the splayed position he’s in that has his right leg dangling, and the fact that he’s on the couch again. With how drowsy he still is, he just rolls over in an attempt to get up. Him overshooting his landing and a loud knock on the door makes him end up on the floor.

“Who is it?” He lifts his head up from the floor to yell. He hears you say your name and groans inwardly.

“Did you forget you invited me?” Your muffled voice travels through the door, said door doing little to hide to worry in your voice. Soobin slowly lugs himself up from the ground.

“Come in.” He clears his throat as he shoves one of his hands into his boxers. 

There is no light coming from any of the gaps of the front door to his penthouse. You shrug, pushing open the door. Your suspicion was correct. His living room would be shrouded in darkness if not for the setting sun through the floor-to-ceiling windows and hidden strip lights lining the top of the walls. Despite its size, the dark brown leather sofa in the middle of the floor is dwarfed by the large, nearly empty room. The dark decorative paneling that lines the walls on either side of you consumes any liveliness the room could’ve had.

Your eyes finally land on Soobin who’s scratching his head beside the sofa. They track down his other arm right to his crotch. You jolt, looking away as if it didn’t already happen. He looks down at himself, surprised by the heat that prickles his cheeks. Just before you came, Sunmi was over. She barely even noticed his boxers, and if she did, she didn’t acknowledge his lack of pants. That’s what everyone who visits him does. Even Sakura has seen him in his boxers countless times. 

You notice his flushed cheeks and back up toward the door. “I can leave again if you need a moment.”

He lets out an exasperated sigh. Why does it even matter? It’s not like you’re looking at his dick, and this is his house! As soon as he looks at you, he gets this potent feeling that reminds him of the Seoul concert. The look on his parent’s faces as the screams deafen him– His stomach tightens as he pushes the memory away.

“Stay right there.” He blurts out as he scurries from the room.

You listen slightly, choosing to walk a little further into his living room. It has the bones of many pretentious homes you’ve seen through screens. It kind of looks like you producing mentor’s bachelor pad. Your mentor’s pad if he was… 

Your fingers brush over the diamond tufted leather of the couch as you wait for the word to come to you. The couch seems very comfortable judging by how it feels when you press it slightly. Now that you think about it, the room is functional, just to a comical degree. You can come in here and live, walk further in and look out the window at others living. Despite your judgments, the space itself is objectively nice looking. Very luxurious and artistic. You spare a cautionary glance at your attire. You’re not wearing your cardigan, but that doesn’t prevent you from sticking out any less.

“Ho-kay!” Soobin claps from behind you. Once you turn to see him, the word comes to you.

Bare.

“Now. Welcome to my humble abode!” Soobin re-enters the room with a pair of jeans and hoodie. You smile softly upon realizing he still rolls the sleeves up to his elbows. In fact, this entire ensemble reminds you of when he was 14 on YouTube. Your eyes naturally scan for your favorite detail from back then. You feel let down slightly upon noticing it’s not there. A lot about Soobin has changed. He isn’t scrawny anymore, he has the bravado of someone 14 year old you would hate, his tastes have changed.

“Your necklace…” The words leave your lips as you struggle to reckon with how this is making you feel. He looks great, all it takes is a glance around his million dollar penthouse to see he’s doing great, too. Still, you can’t help mourning your lost youth. “The one you said your mom gave you...”

His hand clasps at his neckline as he laughs awkwardly. “What?”

Mortification strikes you like lightning as you stammer to correct yourself. You are no longer behind a screen observing Soobin while curled up in bed.

“I mean um— do you wear that anymore? I just remember when you wore it all the time.”

Soobin is feeling extremely observed right now in a way only a tier four could cause. 

“I thought you said you’ve been a fan since Naekkeo Crew… sounds like you’ve been a fan longer than that.” You can tell by the way he’s looking at you that you’ve creeped him out. You straighten up, put on a brave face, and pray you’re not still wincing from your fuck up. 

“I feel like we should just start this entire interaction over. I came over so we could talk about your decision.” You make up a justification on the spot. Soobin’s eyes gleam for a moment, you hope that means he’ll forgive and forget you being cringe.

“Sit, please sit.” Soobin puts on his most welcoming voice as he ushers you to the couch. You smooth the back of your skirt, annoyed at how focused you are on his hand resting on your back. His knees are turned toward you and you’re kind of being cornered.

“I’m ready to get started composing, but I’m stuck at the recruiting phase.” You start, scooting away subtly. Soobin nods, taking that as a chance to scoot closer. You stammer, eyes trained on where both your knees meet. “I-It’s my insistence on the chemistry and I know that.” You exhale exasperatedly, unable to stop your bad habit of bouncing your leg.

“If I have to be a little more lenient, that might just be what happens. But I’m thinking of just hurrying up and choosing someone. Or maybe…” You drop your hands into your lap. Unable to suppress your defeated sigh, you finish your sentence. 

“Maybe I should just scrap the duet.”

Soobin feels genuine shock hearing that from you. It’s a little disheartening that the industry can beat down someone as headstrong as you appear to be. The regretful look and weakened voice as you just give in is all too familiar. 

He frees himself from his self pity quickly. His career is on the line.

“How about dates?” Soobin rests a hand on your bouncing leg. 

“Hah,” You wait for him to laugh back, but he just stares at you. “I didn’t mean to give that impression…”

“What, that you’re a fan trying to get lucky?” He states bluntly. You gasp, slightly affronted. “Don’t worry, I don’t think that.”

“Are you sure? You said it really fast.” 

“Have you ever been to Silver Swan?” He tilts his chin inward as he changes the subject. Whatever it is, he’s clearly presenting it as something special. 

“Huh? No, I’m not sure I’ve heard of it.” 

Soobin looks shocked and you’re getting deja vu from every fleeting encounter with celebrities recommending something extravagant. 

“You’re missing out! It’s the new big thing, something you have to experience in real life. Have you ever been to a Japanese cocktail bar?”

“Like… in Japan?”

The bewildered look on your face makes Soobin giddy. If no one has tried exposing you to the proper celebrity lifestyle then he’s in the lead. You clearly are unfamiliar.

“Oh… no.” You laugh, treating the suggestion like it’s silly. He can tell you’re considering it, though. “I can’t just fly to japan. I have so much to do, and I don’t like dropping money spontaneously on stuff like that…”

Soobin wants to jump at the chance but hesitates. If he follows through with this plan, how is this any different from throwing his money away for Tsuki? He tries to think of another plan when Jackson’s podcast comes to mind. 

“Now I have extreme insider information.” Jackson sits forward in his seat, addressing the men with a serious look. He asks if they’re familiar with you. Soobin’s heart stops. 

“That lady has been all everyone is talking about. Rumor has it she’s looking for a lucky singer to do a duet with. A male singer.” 

Soobin starts to sweat, slamming back into his seat. If the people in this room had no idea about this, that would work in his favor. But now his main competitors are aware of what they should be competing for. 

“I don’t want to come off as rude, but what’s the big deal?” Mark is met with a chorus of cautionary and amused noises. 

“Her explosion in popularity is just waiting to happen. People wanna be a part of it.” Kang Daniel adds only for Yeonjun to interject.

“I mean, the popularity is one thing, but you can tell when someone is going to be a one-of-a-kind musician.” Yeonjun seems to be posing as he soaks up the praise from his observation. Mimicking an actually wise person

“Her ear for melodies is unparalleled.” Taemin pipes up to more agreement. Not only is he being faced with how dire the situation has gotten, but he has to sit through more people gushing about you? Someone shoot him already.

“So you guys seem aware, but have any of you approached her? Has she approached you?” 

The men shrug, make faces, make random noises. Remaining vague.

“Maybe.” Yeonjun is the first to speak. The room goes quiet as they all look at him.

“Maybe you asked her? Or… did she ask you?” Jackson asks, hushing his voice as if he isn’t in front of a microphone.

A smile stretches across Yeonjun’s face. The room reacts in disbelief. “Then that settles it! Wait, is this an announcement?” Jackson asks excitedly. Before Yeonjun could answer, Soobin speaks.

“She approached me.” 

To this the room goes silent. Partly from shock, and partly from the tension his admission created. “Nothing is set in stone, we’re meeting again this week.”

Thinking back, he probably should’ve said it was set in stone. But it’s too late now, he can’t help feeling antsy.

“I’ll pay for it all.” Soobin blurts out. You cock your head to the side, puzzled, in disbelief, and touched all at once.

“W-what? Really?!” You sputter. Soobin thinks about the impact this duet just might have. His first song since his hiatus and one of the songs off your first album. With the royalties alone he’ll earn back whatever he’ll spend on you. 

“Of course.” He hopes his gritted teeth aren’t obvious. “Do you have a passport?”

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

Bekah stares at you expectantly despite not prompting for anything. You look back knowingly, pursing your lips. The sound of the wheels gliding against the polished flooring is deafening.

“I’m gonna go, obviously.” You cave into the pressure.

“As you should!” Bekah encourages, though it sounds like a scold. “You need to treat yourself at least a little bit.”

“Everything I do now is already a treat. I’m literally living the life I dreamed of. And I don’t have to be an entitled, money-crazed nightmare while doing it.” You stress that last part as if Bekah doesn’t know exactly where you stand. You double check the registry before setting the soap into the basket. 

“Going on one trip to Japan doesn’t make you a nightmare! What is really bothering you, babe?” Bekah reaches over to rest her hand on one of your shoulders. Her worried gaze softens you, you unclench your jaw. You peak over at the registry again.

“This is just their registry for the holidays. I know for a fact that they’re being modest with this list, too. I could be using that time away to set up something with the organization. But instead I’m dropping everything to vacation?” You worry your lip before huffing out the rest of the air tensing you up. Bekah snorts and drops her head. You pause and push her hand off you insolently. “Hello?”

“Don’t make me laugh. You cram so much into your day and will still stop to climb a whole ass tree if it meant saving a kitten. Gotham will survive a couple weeks without batman. I promise.” She laughs again and sets her hand on you again. You smack it this time, failing to stop her amusement. What does stop it is an opportunity for her to mother you.

“So cancel the fifty charities you have planned during the trip, they’ll be there when you come back. And buy a new goddamn suitcase.” She points her finger with a glare.

You pout attempting to slip your next words past her.

“It gets the job done—”

“No it does not! The zipper is falling off and one of the wheels are gone. Throw it out!”

“Mommy can we go to Papan?” Noemi’s beads clack as she looks up at Bekah.

“Mommy doesn’t have Papan money.” Bekah barely looks at Noemi as she dismisses the request.

“You wouldn’t like Japan. They don’t have pop tarts.” You whisper, hoping it makes the news sound more dire. You copy her wide eyes and matching gasp. Her tiny umber-toned hands grip the doll she refuses to put into the cart in shock. Bekah looks at the both of you in disbelief before elbowing you. You stop your staring contest to glare at her.

“Do you want kids in the future? ‘cause I just know they’d love you.” She says with admiration and a side of disgust.

“Should I adopt, too? Doesn’t sound too bad.” You hum at the pleasant thought. 

“When do you go?” Bekah asks as you all start to walk again.

“He tried to convince me to go the next day.” You raise your eyebrows at her, offering an “I know right” to her shocked reaction. “He said we could take a private jet and be back the next day. I bargained with him for next month.”

“Oh!” Bekah’s eyes shimmer. “I can help you pack.”

Bekah comes over the next time her husband is able to babysit, insisting that helping you pack is the most fun she’ll have this week. You were planning to fold random things up and just toss them in but Bekah has an entire organization system going on. You look around at the many neatly folded piles of clothes.

“Okay, so first order of business! Order that suitcase, don’t think I forgot.” Bekah glares at you before continuing. “Second order of business! Order new clothes as well.”

“Why?” You say in utter confusion.

“These aren’t cute.” She replies simply.

“So?”

“So you’re going on a trip with your teenage crush so he can show you a place he really likes.” She insists, becoming impatient.

“The keyword there is teenage. Plus!” You shout before she could argue. “I don't want to make him uncomfortable. Things are… weird already.”

“How so?” Pity drips from Bekah’s eyes as she watches your unusually closed off demeanor.

“I think I make him uncomfortable.” You wince once a more apt observation comes to mind. “I actually think I kind of annoy him in general.” Bekah nearly whimpers at the sight of you. She understands your concerns but hates seeing you like this. 

“I mean, I wouldn’t stress about it. No one would shill out money like this for someone they don’t like.”

“That’s true… I wish my gut would stop nagging at me. Every time I’m with him I feel like I’m racing him to find something wrong with me.”

“I wish I could help, but this is a very unique circumstance.” Bekah drops the clothing, clearly coming to a sad epiphany judging by her devastated expression. “Maybe you shouldn’t go?”

You plop down on your bed and clench your eyes shut. Your fingers tap absentmindedly at your legs as you “um” your way to a thought. With each tap of the chords you know by heart your brain fog clears. “I mean, maybe if I learn more about him he could be the one.”

Bekah’s eyes widen and you quickly fix your statement. “For the duet!”

“If you believe that he could be the right fit, then I would go for it. If you’re careful– and lucky– this song could become a classic. Our grandchildren’s grandchildren might be singing this!” Bekah's smile is close to splitting her face the more she speaks and you’re not far behind. You stand from the bed to clasp her hands.

“A classic?” You whisper. Bekah nods emphatically leading to you both squealing. You sigh dreamily. “I really do think he’s a good match. I mean, I love his emotional depth in Through My Veins. Good taste, by the way. That’s my favorite song by him, too.”

“I thought you hated his music.” Confusion bleeds through her smile as she tilts her head. 

“I never said I hated it, it’s just… very okay. Even his first EP, it’s the project that feels the most authentic to him but that was before he refined his skills.” You nod as ideas start coming to you. 

“Despite how I feel about his music,” you start cautiously, “he still has a strong voice and good musicality. I think he could be the right fit!” You feel lighter after coming to that conclusion and Bekah seems satisfied, too.

“About your clothes–”

“No.” You shoot down immediately, wiping the smile off her face.

“Fine. Can you at least take me to the mall or something?” She gives up quickly, dropping your hands.

“Of course. I’ll buy you as much as you want.” You sound offended she would even ask.

“Perfect! Random question… what size do you wear?”

“Bekah.”

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

Soobin’s study is very modern. Same black paneling as his living room with a desk against one wall and a dusty piano against the other. He has you sitting on the side of the desk that makes it seem like it’s your study. You sit forward on the leather swivel chair, propping your iPad open.

“I’m excited for Tokyo.” You start off on a shaky note, all that hyping yourself up going to waste with how pathetic you sound. You watch intently as Soobin smirks at you. 

“I know.” 

His answer catches you off guard and you furrow your eyebrows. Undeterred, he rolls closer to the desk. He leans over it, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Have you even been outside the country?”

“Hm,” You click your tongue as you try to recall. Your face dulls once you remember. “Once for work.” You reply bitterly.

“But never for leisure.” He double checks, to which you nod. He looks to the picture of him and Doyoung, thinking back to all the places they haven’t visited. How the list gets longer and longer as time goes on. 

“I’ve never been to Bali…” He strokes his chin. “Oh! I heard the Maldives are gorgeous, we should go there.”

“Woah, woah, woah, let’s get to Japan first before we plan anything else.” You throw up your hands as if the gesture will pace him. 

“Planning ahead wouldn’t hurt. When are you free? We could work around your schedule.” He whips out his phone, immediately getting distracted by the icon of his banking app. Your warm laughter breaks him from his trance.

“It seems like you’re excited for Tokyo, too.” You grin. He flushes, wanting to immediately shoot down that notion. Your eyes gleam, the more he stares at them, the more he’s convinced to let the feeling linger. The embarrassment melts away in favor of a pleasant warmth as he reminisces on his vacations with family. His small smile gives you butterflies.

“Do you travel often?” You ask, enjoying the way this conversation makes you feel. Soobin’s smile immediately drops. Yours does as well when he clears his throat.

“Of course! I mean, that’s one of the main things people do when they come into money. I’m surprised you don’t travel often.” With the return of his smugness, you’re back to that uncomfortable feeling he gives you. 

“I don't feel the need to. I have everything I need here and more than enough to do.”

Without context, the look on your face makes your words nostalgic. More of the algic than the nost. He remembers when he first rose to fame, how scared he was. Not wanting to stray too far. As the uncomfortable feeling stirs in your stomach, the wilted look on your face intensifies. Soobin’s mouth moves before he could think it through.

“This industry is going to chew you up and spit you out.” He mumbles with an unemotive face. It makes what he says all the more ominous. You blanch at the insinuation and Soobin realizes what he said. Instead of apologizing or stammering, he picks the option that annoys him the least. 

“So, the song!” He claps to accompany his suddenly upbeat tone. You recover from your whiplash, doing a double-take before finally looking down at your iPad. 

“I was thinking we didn’t have to wait until Tokyo to get started. I have a vision for this song to be more than a love song. I want it to be about growth and fear, and coming together for support.” You explain as you swipe through your brainstorming map. Soobin doesn’t know why he’s becoming irked, he just knows he is and he wants that to change.

“When are we going to start writing or creating melodies?” Soobin complains, sparking urgency in you. He sighs at the way you start to stammer and swipe frantically. He’s already tired of this spiritual mumbo-jumbo.

“I-I definitely have some ideas– we’ll get there– but if this is going to be the classic I know it can be, we need to dig deeper than just “I miss you, please come back”.” You find yourself slowly becoming annoyed yourself as you continue talking. You spent all this time wondering if he’s who you should pick when he seems so uninterested. At least, he did. You see a tinge of intrigue suddenly enter his eyes as he regards you.

“A classic? Really?”

“Really!” You confirm. “We could just run with the melody I have recorded and sing some generic lyrics with no depth, but I have no doubt that song will be forgotten by the following week. We can work together to make something that resonates with people. Plus, the best songs are reflections of the artist’s thoughts and feelings.” You hurry the words out, calming once you notice he’s receptive. He does that thing again, narrowing his eyes like he’s looking for something. 

“You’re really confident, aren’t you.” You get the feeling he’s deriding you, but this is your wheelhouse you’re talking about. You lean closer, your arms nearly touching as you rest them on the desk. 

“I have the credentials to back it up.” You smirk, mirroring him as you engage in his little staring contest. He raises his eyebrows before slowly sliding away. You conceal the smile begging to peek through as he sports an impressed look on his face. You’re not finished.

You stand from your chair and move toward the piano in the back of the room. You glance back at him, urging him to follow. You settle onto the bench, followed by him settling next to you. Sliding away the cover, you gasp at the state of it. You play the chords you know by heart. Soobin’s ear’s quirk up at the comforting melody. A bright light fills his chest as memories of him playing the piano and his sister singing the lyrics.

“Is that–”

“This is horrible! This thing needs to be tuned badly. All this money– how could you let it get like this!” You scold him amidst your horror. You continue to ramble about how spoiled he is to have such a beautiful instrument and leave it in this condition, but Soobin is still floating amongst his memories.

“Why did you stop playing?” He asks, readying his hand at the left side of the piano. You stop in your tracks, the anger draining from your body as you catch on. Your fingers cascade across the repeating keys as he accompanies you. His part is laughably simple, just hitting one piano key per chord, but your stomach continues to do flips. You play your way through the first song you learned on the piano with the person who inspired you to start playing. You feel like you’re floating, like you’ll wake up any second. 

Once the intro is over you draw your hand away from the piano. You felt compelled to sing, but singing to him alone in his house felt strangely… intimate. Your heart quickens, you look up at him cautiously to see him eyeing the piano still.

“Can you play something?”

“Can I play something?”

You’re so distracted by you both asking the same thing in unison that you don’t notice the despondent way he says it. You nod excitedly. “Yes! Please,” you scoot to the very edge of the stool, giving him enough room. You consider standing, but sitting next to him feels admittedly nice.

He steadies himself, his hands hovering over the keys. When he starts playing, you wonder if he’s setting out to embarrass you. You watch, impressed as his fingers press a much more complicated melody into the piano. Soobin feels frantic as he hits each key, clenching his eyes shut to try and shake the fog setting in. The melody starts to become distant as his mind flips from stressor to stressor. He clenches his teeth, pulling his hands back when he hits an incorrect key. 

As he sits there with his vision still trained on the piano, you jog your brain on where you’ve heard the song before. “Stevie Wonder, right?”

You laugh, ready to follow up your question, your joy practically bubbling over. When he slams the piano shut you flinch. He looks up with frantic eyes. 

“I can help you.” He says suddenly. None of his actions just now are helping with your confusion. 

“Huh?”

“You’re new to this celebrity stuff. Let me be your mentor. I can help ease you in to the lifestyle. Trust me, it’s good to have someone you can trust for things like this.” He rambles, suddenly passionate. You laugh, caught off guard.

“I don’t really know if I’m looking to be involved in the celebrity lifestyle.”

“I understand, but sometimes Hollywood can force you into uncomfortable situations. It’s better if you’re prepared. At least.” He tacks on. His desperation spurs you into nodding. 

“Okay.” He breathes with a strained smile. “What’re you doing next week? Are you free?”

“Actually, I’ll be wrapping books for my local library every weekday. Maybe we can try the weekend?” You check your watch, standing from the bench once you realize what time it is. After such a turbulent evening, your obnoxious-ness is actually a little comforting to Soobin.

“Shoot, I know I said I’d pop over but I didn’t expect it to be this short–”

“How about I tag along for that?” Soobin shoots up from the bench, nearly tripping over. You look at him, befuddled.

“I don’t know…” If you’re spotted together, that will lead to people eagerly attempting to identify you. But now that you look at him, you can see it.

“Maybe Tuesday?” You ask, eyes darting away nervously.

“Sure!” He smiles, resembling a puppy for a moment. You smile back. 

You head over to fetch your iPad and toss it in your bag. “Then, see you!” 

“Wait! I’ll walk you to the door.”

“That’s not necessary–”

“Come on!” He pats your back, speeding ahead of you. You follow him after being momentarily stunned. You turn around after exiting, waving. He waves back enthusiastically, shutting the door.

You turn, unable to walk just yet. What the fuck just happened? That look on his face after he played, and why was he so frantic? And his question… when he asked if he could play… it’s becoming clear to you at that very moment.

Was he asking himself?”

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