#feel like I always just get boxed into that one label when to me it’s the simplest thing about me
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buddyhollysbuddyholly · 2 days ago
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♫⋆。♪ ₊˚♬゚. ELVIS VER. ♫⋆。♪ ₊˚♬゚.
All about ELVIS (pride themed)
Hes a cis guy, he's not like too deep into gender since he's comfortable with his own but he does understand it and does his best.
Hes GAY!!! Who would've guessed! He used to be very confused and almost angry at himself for being Homo especially in season 1 (kinda like JFK's questioning episode) but by the middle of season 2 he ignores the jock stereotypes and learns to accept himself.
He was drunk in episode one and had a deep talk with Gregory (my lovely wife's clone) and was like "shoot..I like him.." Though his parents always had a thought he would turn out, gay, and they tried to ignore it for as long as possible.
His parents are rich and barely around so of course his environments rocky. At school with his old friends their very much your typical jock guys who make gay jokes and stuff. When he gains new friends after season 1 (buddy, James dean etc) he becomes more accepting and his environment gets better.
Well me and my girlfriend were talking about our ideas for the clones and she was like "I dunno if I like Gregory and buddy together.." and I brought up Elvis and Gregory as a little joke but uh..that in fact did NOT stay a joke.
He doesn't mind labels, they respect others labels and would prefer if people respected his.
Not that I know of..maybe finding like straight like..videos erotic but other than that he's pretty confidant in his identity.
The idea that 1) the actual Elvis was considered a ladies man and 2) there is a lot of pressure from the other jocks and his own family to date a cute cheerleader (specifically Marie Antoinette)
Im not really sure..soooo NEXT!
yup! him and the gang usually go to parades and dress up for it, he's performed at one
he used to be really quiet and low-key about it, only kissing Gregory behind bleachers and at their homes, but now he's open and publicly shows his affection for Gregory
In season 1 he most definitely has internalized homophobia and transphobia (not to bad extents by they're there.) Hes able to move past it though and he acknowledges his faults
I don't think so, he doesn't really understand it and he also only has eyes for Gregory.
Hes not mine, but my girlfriend @waylonjenningswife oc (waylon I know ironic) is actually demi aroace!
None of them do, I don't think they'd really get them but they respect them!
I mean..I guess? if making actual people into clones and making them a part of the community counts
Not mine (again) but my girlfriends Marilyn and Bettie clones! (lesbians)
It depends on the oc but I personally like giving them labels just cause I feel it normalizes it more
i dunno about preference? But I usually show it as how it goes on in high school (since clone high..duh..) cause its not always so apparent ESPECIALLY with the popular kids its so annoying
they def did cause I was able to put how I feel about finding myself and etc into them and it helped lots
uhhh if you wanna know more about Elvis or my other ocs feel free to ask about them through my ask box!
🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈PRIDE THEMED OC ASK GAME🏳️‍🌈 🏳️‍⚧️
Bc I wanted one and didn't find it so. Here
[Send ask aimed at a specific character]
1. What's your oc's gender identity? What's their relationship to their gender?
2. What's your oc's orientation? (Romantic/sexual/platonic alterous ect) Do they have opinions about it?
3. How did your oc discover themself? Did something cause them to question, or did they always know?
4. Is your oc's environment supportive about their identity? How does this impact them?
5. How did you figure out your oc's identity?
6. How does your oc feel about labels? Theirs, or in general?
7. Is there something that could cause your oc to question their identity? What?
8. Have they had struggles with their identity, be it due to internal or external reasons?
9. Are there cultural or lore specific aspects to their identity? If applicable, does their species affect it?
10. Does your oc celebrate Pride? How?
11. Is your oc open about their identity? Are they more lowkey or more blunt about it? Why or why not?
12. Does/did your oc ever wish they could change the way they are? Why? If it's in the past, how did they get over the feeling? (this can be about internalized homo/transphobia)
13. Would your oc be open to a poly relationship? Why or why not?
[Not aimed at a specific character] / [Aimed at creator]
14. Do you have ocs on the aro or ace spectrum?
15. Do any of your ocs use neopronouns? Which ones?
16. Did you ever change an oc's identity when they were already established? Why?
17. Do you share identity with any of your ocs? Which ones?
18. Do you prefer to give your ocs specific labels, or keep it unspecified? Why? If applicable, do you change their labels depending on circumstance?
19. Do you have preferences about depicting homo/transphobia in your stories? What, and why? Does it vary by story?
20. Have your ocs helped you in self discovery? How?
21. Free ramble card wee
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finalset · 10 months ago
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why has the topic of the month been my transness or whatever. I have been thinking about my place here a lot lately, how that effects my relationships etc and I’ve been coming to good conclusions but then my family lately feels like they need to give me their opinion how I should conduct myself and feel about certain things instead of just listening to me when I decide to talk about it. and it’s not even a cis people problem particularly bc my best friend is the only person in my life that really understands where I come from. I just wish I had more of that I guess, especially nearby. I made my room a peaceful place for myself but I don’t feel seen and like a part of my family when it comes to things like this. and being told over and over in conversation “I will never understand what you’re going through” really is not a comforting statement to hear even though it was intended that way.
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mi55delulu · 1 month ago
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movie goers
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pairing: jungkook x fem reader
synopsis: starting off on the wrong foot with your new neighbor was not on the top of your bucket list, yet you’ve made an enemy of jeon jungkook in less than 24 hours. unlucky for you, he’s not backing down either.
genre: enemies to friends to lovers (e2f2l)
wc: ~16.4k
cw: not so cute meet, slice of life, slight angst, fluff, mature language, mean jk and mean oc — they get better though, cheating (not main characters), fwb (not main characters), mutual pining, oc is lowkey a hopeless romantic, 18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI 🔞, smut, oral (f&m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, love love love. if i got any rules/regulations wrong, i didnt. leave me alone, it’s fanfic 😇✨also written in lowercase bc that’s just how my phone setting is and i’m too lazy to go back to capitalize … ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
a/n: yuh … inspired by real life events. anyways, this is the first time i’ve posted a fic on this page. i’ve been an avid reader (still am) but i’ve been wanting to put something out too. so here’s my gift to close out 2024. also, i miss jk. I MISS BANGTAN. ;-; enjoy and lmk your thoughts!
if you had to describe your ideal neighbor in three words, it’d be: mindful, quiet, and kind. cause that’s what your neighbor, mrs. lee, was to you in the last three years you’ve lived in this apartment complex. she kept to herself, walked her small crusty (but cute) senior white dog, and brought you leftover cookies when she baked too much for her grandkids. you always had a feeling she made just the right amount with you in mind, but of course she’d never tell you.
so when she broke the news that she was going to move into her son’s home because they’ve been worried about her living alone, you were happy for her — happy that she’s going to get taken care of, but sad that you’ll be losing a great neighbor.
you tell her whoever moves in after her probably won’t be as good of a baker. she simply laughs and tells you to be nice.
three months pass and you hear footsteps outside your door one afternoon. when you try spying through your peephole to get a glimpse of the commotion, you see boxes stacked on the side of apt# 305.
finally, someone was moving in.
some of the boxes were spilling onto your welcome mat, but that didn’t really bother you. you were more curious about your new neighbor … er, perhaps neighbors. so any clue on whether it was going to be an individual or a family moving in would give you an idea of who you’ll be living next to.
unfortunately for you, all the boxes were neatly sealed off.
“dang it.” you mutter to yourself while squinting at the labels on the boxes. clothes, kitchen, shoes … workout? well, okay no indication of toys so you can safely assume there aren’t any kids … yet.
you look at your clock, it’s about time you head out to get your mail anyways. maybe you’ll bump into your new neighbor(s).
except, it wasn’t as easy to spot who exactly was going to be moving in with all the different movers. you sigh and sift through your mail as you walk up the stairs to your apartment. most of the boxes that were outside had already been moved inside the apartment by the time you returned from the mailroom.
as curious as you were of who your new neighbor could be, you had better things to do … like binge watch your kdramas before your shift starts. maybe if you’re feeling extra nice … you’ll say hi later. no one wants to start off on a bad foot with their neighbor. you fumble around your pockets for your keys and eventually hear your locks click open when you’ve successfully unlocked your door.
“hey, neighbor.”
you turn. now, in all your 28 glorious years of living, you can easily count the times you’ve been starstruck on one hand. seeing the northern lights by accident on your way home in 2024, meeting your favorite youtuber at a late night diner when you were 15 years old, and being noticed by one of the highest ranked players in maplestory’s world chat.
the person in front of you? a sight to behold. tall, killer smile, numerous piercings, and a forearm adorned in tattoos. yeah. you don’t think starstruck would fit for this occurrence, but what you do know is that they’ve gotten you tongue tied.
“welcome!” you blurt out and give a tight-lipped smile before barreling through your entryway. you don’t give yourself another second to study his expression once the door shuts behind you. were you lame to run away from your new neighbor? sure. will you regret this? well, the cringe is already seeping in. you’re probably branded as the weird girl now … whatever.
what’s done is done.
you don’t know if 305 is mindful, quiet, or kind.
but fuck, he’s hot.
305 was not quiet.
you know it’s a housewarming party with a couple of his friends. he didn’t have to tell you … you heard them loud and clear through the walls several times as they clinked their shot glasses for the 11th time that evening.
you’re texting your frustrations to dohwan, your boyfriend (?) er … someone you’ve been talking to (and fucking) these last 2 years. he hasn’t quite put a label on the relationship just yet and claimed that he is only seeing you. labels didn’t really matter to you but as time grew, you’ve come to like him a lot and wished for something more. he’s career-driven, great in bed, and knows how to whip up a good breakfast the morning after he stays for the night. he was supposed to come over tonight, but told you he got caught up with work. it’s times like these where you feel a level of uncertainty with dohwan. you spiral and don’t feel as secure as you want to be.
you shouldn’t feel hurt or disappointed … but you do, because hell, alright … maybe you didn’t just like him.
you love him.
you’re not embarrassed that you told him 9 months into seeing each other. has he said it back? no, but that’s okay! everyone has a different timeline when it comes to feelings. you could only hope he meets yours soon enough. why else would he stay for this long?
back to the situation at hand.
you’re not an irritable person, but the least 305 could’ve done was given you a heads up that he was going to have a celebration. you would’ve asked to stay over at dohwan’s in that case.
another round of laughter erupts through your walls and you grit your teeth in annoyance.
“fuckin’ hell,” you throw the covers off your body and march out of your apartment. you find yourself glaring at 305’s door — a juxtaposition from how you usually looked when mrs. lee used to reside here.
god, you missed her.
you knock on the door a few times, taking note how the chattering from the inside decreases and some footsteps grow close to the door.
again, you almost want to want to run back to your apartment when you’re face to face with 305’s handsome confused face.
realizing it’s you, 305 smiles, “oh, hey—“
“it’s nearly 12 a.m. do you mind?” you cut him off.
his smile drops and he leans one shoulder on his doorway.
“sorry,” he says, “we’ll wrap up soon.”
you’d usually drop something this trivial by now, but you’re in a foul mood. unfortunately for 305, this is will be his official first impression of you.
“how much longer is ‘soon?’ it’s been like this for 4 hours,” you really don’t mean for it to come out that way, but the damage is done.
little did you know, 305 wasn’t going to backdown either. he may be new to this complex, but he’s not privy to obnoxious neighbors. the only difference is that he thought you were going to be quiet and shy, much like the first meeting.
“don’t know.” he shrugs.
“i really don’t want to involve property management.” you cross your arms. it’s a half threat — you’ve never called because you never needed to … but you’ll flip through your 50 page rental agreement if you have to.
he mirrors your stance and looks out to your apartment’s door.
“well, sorry to burst your bubble, 307.” he says and you see red, “but management is aware of my get together. it’s not my fault they didn’t inform the other residents.”
“asshole.” you mutter under your breath.
he smiles again, a little less friendly and more condescending this time, “we’ll finish soon, 307. good night.” he shuts his door on you before you can formulate a sentence and you’re left outside in the dark.
“yo, jungkook … were we being too loud?” hoseok asks while popping a handful of m&m’s into his mouth.
“yeah, cause your laugh can be heard from all throughout korea,” jimin mocks, earning him a shove from hoseok.
“nah, don’t worry about it. just my neighbor saying hi.” jungkook plops down on the sofa with the rest of his friends.
“oh? should’ve invited them in. we have enough pizza to feed a village.” taehyung nudges his side.
jungkook laughs and shakes his head, “just scale down on the volume and we’ll be golden.”
jungkook loves good company, having lived with his friends for most of his college years, he was a bit reluctant to move out. it’s a little bittersweet, but all his friends are happy for him and his new journey in adulthood. he won’t have to deal with messy roommates and random guests … vice versa. as fun as it was to live in a house full of your best friends, at the end of the day, men will be men. gross, loud, and obnoxious.
not jungkook though, so he thinks.
“ha! called it,” jimin snorts, “you were being too loud, hyung.” this earns jimin a punch to the arm and hoseok’s booming laugh when jimin dramatically falls off the chair.
jungkook knew it was useless to request this of his friends, so he took it upon himself to give the property manager a heads up. lucky for him, the lady seemed more than happy to accommodate. she even left her business card with him after he signed the lease … something about calling her if there’s ever an issue with the apartment — any time of the day.
weird.
what’s weirder was his neighbor. from running away during the first meeting to demanding he end his housewarming on the spot. okay, to be fair, you didn’t, but you might as well have. it didn’t help that jungkook was hotheaded and gets a little irrational when something involved his friends.
so what if he thought you were pretty in your black pajama set? you called his friends loud, when in honesty, they could’ve been much worse. seriously. he knows jimin’s taunting held some truth. hoseok has been responsible for some noise complaints in the past. so this was considered manageable. plus, it’s not like he’ll be inviting them over every weekend.
but if it meant pissing you off, he might consider it.
alright, he wasn’t that cruel and he definitely doesn’t want to make living next to you unbearable. he’ll apologize first thing in the morning tomorrow, but for now, he just wants to enjoy his time with his best friends.
jungkook was going to murder you.
not literally, but he could if it wasn’t for the major hangover holding him back. he blinks twice, looks at the clock on his nightstand, reads 7:01am, and lets out a big sigh after another round of drilling vibrates against his wall.
fuckin’ hell.
it feels comical now that he’s in front of your apartment, face still swollen from sleep, but so visibly upset at being woken up at the ass crack of dawn.
“are you serious?” he asks, voice still laced with heavy sleep.
you, on the other hand, look put together and almost too happy this early in the day. jungkook can only rule you out as a psychopath — a pretty psychopath. your hair all in place, lashes kissing your cheeks when you smile at him, and not a single wrinkle on your clothing in sight.
“what’s up,” you peer outside your door just as he did last night, “305?”
he wants to let out a groan, but that’d give you too much power.
“drilling at 7 in the morning? that’s gotta be a violation.” his voice still laced with sleep, though, he’s sure to sound assertive.
“nope! here,” you smile and pull out your phone, the level of brightness makes jungkook squint, “county regulations allow work as early as 6:30am.”
“yeah, if there’s justification. there’s no reason for you to be drilling this early.” jungkook argues back.
you pout, evidently not sad at that revelation, “but my mental health. i was kept up all night by my neighbor and his friends … i need some wall decor to cheer me up. surely you could sympathize, right?”
you don’t allow him to formulate another thought as you’re shutting the door, “i’ll be done soon, have a good day!”
jungkook almost wants to laugh at how irritated he is, but all he can do now is try to get some shut eye before his shift starts. that is, if he can even go back to sleep.
should’ve asked his friends for some earplugs as a housewarming gift.
the drilling eventually came to a stop. only because you could not be bothered to wake up earlier than you had to and you think you made your point pretty clear to your neighbor — don’t fuck with me.
honestly, you’re not sure what came over you. you never liked causing issues for people and you’re also well liked by your work peers and friends, so this was out of character of you. it also didn’t help that your friends spurred you on and praised you for one upping him. as the rage dissipated from your system, you’ve come to the conclusion of why you acted out.
your new neighbor was a conventionally attractive man. he probably knows this too judging from the way he spoke to you — like you’d back down just because he said so. he probably was able to schmooze the lease manager into giving him a better rent deal and get pardoned for all the noise he made during his housewarming party. sucks for him; you’re not a fan of pretty privilege.
you had to set him straight, so drilling into a random piece of wood every morning right near his bedroom wall was the perfect revenge. you expected some backlash from him; surprisingly, he didn’t say a word to you after his first confrontation. so, you stopped the antics after the third day.
weeks later, you learned his name is jeon jungkook. not through a formal introduction … only because his mail got mixed in with yours and you tossed it onto his welcome mat. he eventually came to realize your name through the same way too.
though, he’ll always be 305 to you and you’ll always be 307 to him.
that’s fine.
you’ll scowl every time you see him and he’ll stick a middle finger up to you as well.
the feeling was mutual.
“so, are you still battling it out with your new neighbor?” dohwan asks one evening. his head was actually between your legs at the moment. you like having random conversations during sex, but talking about your annoying neighbor wasn’t on the top of your list.
“mm, yeah,” you moan lowly when he flicks his tongue on your clit. “well n-no, not anymore.” you correct yourself, “oh fuck, keep going.”
“good, i’m tired of hearing about him,” he chuckles against you and continues his ministrations between your folds. if you were caught off guard by his comment, you weren’t anymore. the pleasure coursing through your body is enough to make your head spin.
he moves away from your body once you’ve come by his mouth. without warning, he slips inside you and you hiss from the overstimulation, still sensitive from your previous orgasm.
“gonna fuck you so well.”he’s thrusting relentlessly, “it’s what you need, huh princess?”
you nod, too overcome by the power of his thrusts hitting all the right spots. dohwan is a little more vocal tonight — it makes you feel special but you’re also a little self conscious about your nextdoor neighbor hearing things. you’ve always kept it down even when mrs. lee lived next door, jungkook would be no exception.
people fuck, it doesn’t mean you can’t be courteous. you sure as hell don’t want to hear your neighbor fucking given that you’ve seen him bring back several different girls to the apartment these couple of weeks.
one thing you’ll commend jungkook for is not being a loud fucker in the bed.
“baby,” you whine as he pauses a little to listen to what you have to say, “we should keep it down.”
he tilts his head, reaches in between your bodies and circles slowly on your clit with his thumb while he resumes rocking into you. you keen and almost let out a moan.
“why? let the asshole hear.” he grunts when he picks up the pace again. dohwan kisses down your neck and leaves a red hickey on your collarbone. you let out a pretty sigh and wrap your legs around his waist.
“y-you,” he moans particularly louder and it throws you off slightly, “saw the way he looked at me today, right?”
you didn’t, but you definitely saw the way dohwan glared at jungkook and tightened his hold on your waist before entering your apartment. meanwhile jungkook had just come back from his evening run — at least that’s what you assumed since he was wiping away his sweaty hair from his flushed face coming up the stairs.
“baby, are you really going to talk to me about another man while we’re fucking?” you laugh and cup his face in your hands. he huffs in frustration but his eyes soften, it’s opposite to the brutal pace he’s set on your pussy.
“sorry,” he continues fucking into you and the room is filled with wet noises and his panting once again. even though he apologized, he does nothing to lower his volume.
knock-knock. the sound definitely did not come from the frontdoor, it was far too close to hear.
another series of knocks come and you realize it’s your bedroom wall. dohwan pays no attention to those sounds and is far into chasing his own high, but you move your hands over his mouth to muffle his grunts.
jeon jungkook is knocking on your wall.
he knows you’re having sex and you’ve become that obnoxious neighbor. if that wasn’t enough of an instant mood killer, you hear him blasting one of akon’s featured hits “i just had sex” to mock you and dohwan.
yeah, sexy time is over. you push dohwan off you and head into the bathroom to nurse your embarrassment.
shortly that night, dohwan leaves and it’s the first time you’ve gotten into an argument with him where you think he’s in the wrong.
people find it daunting to go to the movies alone. you’d agree until you were forced to go alone after no one wanted to go watch twilight with you in high school. it was awkward at first, but once the light dimmed and the movie started, no one cared about their surroundings.
that’s why you liked going alone. no one will pay attention to how alone you were. everyone in there will be focused on the big screen in front — you included. there was always something liberating about doing things alone too. ‘like yeah, stick it … i don’t need anyone.’ kind of energy.
the only thing you wished was to have someone to discourse with after the movie ended. it’s not a dealbreaker though. you could have easily asked dohwan to come with you, but you’ve been ignoring him since last week after the loud sex fiasco.
regardless, you’re watching moana 2 today. you’re sure it’s going to be a full house given that it’s the opening week. you can only pray that you won’t be surrounded by snotty (literally) kids. nonetheless, you’re excited and the theater was getting filled up as more movie goers come in during the preview. your row was nearly full, saved for the single empty seats on your left and right side.
score, no seat partners or snotty kids. you’ve won this time around.
you’re texting your friends and telling them your luck—
“ahem.”
you look up and you see two people standing in front of you. you’re sure it’s for the seats on your left and right side cause you double checked your ticket before sitting down and everyone else in your row has been seated for quite some time.
“can you move?” one person asks. weirdly enough, the voice is familiar.
even though the lights are low in the theater, you can see that it’s a man and a woman. and when you squint a little more at their figure, that’s when something catches your eyes. a tiger lily tattoo, the same one that your neighbor has.
no fucking way.
“hello?? can you move?” he asks again a little more aggressively. there’s no way he can’t recognize it’s you being that the movie screen is bright enough to shine a light on you. doesn’t matter. you weren’t going to move before and you definitely aren’t going to move now. hell, you’ve been asked plenty of times to move by both families and couples in the past — the difference was that they asked nicely. some were generous enough to offer you snacks when you did move for them.
jungkook? nah. no thank you. you’ll stay right where you are.
“nope.” you hold out your ticket to show your seat number and refocus back on the previews playing.
the girl behind him grabs his arm and gently asks him what seat numbers he got.
“k11 and 13.” he mumbles.
yeah, cause you had bought k12.
“oh, um, it’s okay! we wouldn’t even be talking during the movies anyways,” she reassures with a kind smile. “let’s sit so that we’re not blocking anyone?”
jungkook gives her a tight lipped smile and plops down on k11 while the girl takes k13.
“you’re fucking annoying for that.” he says only loud enough for you to hear. he’s angrily eating his popcorn and it makes you want to laugh mockingly. he’s dressed in all black with a silver chain dangling loosely around his neck. his hair is neatly styled and he smells nice. perfect for a first date … minus you being the factor to ruin it.
“i’m not the one that booked shit last minute. do better.” you shrug.
the previews are still playing and you look over at the girl. she’s so pretty and probably too sweet for jungkook’s good based on how she handled the seating situation.
you feel a little guilty, but that feeling leaves you the moment jungkook hands over the popcorn to the girl, spilling a couple on your lap. you glare, he smirks, and the girl unknowingly takes the bucket from him.
well, two can play that game.
“your nails are so cute, where’d you get them done?” you ask.
she beams and shows you her set, “a little shop called banger nails down myeong-dong! they’re great.”
“oh, your nails are so pretty though. where do you get it done?”
truth be told, you haven’t had your nails filled in over 3 weeks … you know they look rough, but you assume she’s just trying to maintain a conversation being that her actual date was a seat away.
you tell her your shop and she tells you she’ll definitely try out that location when she has the chance. she offers you some popcorn and you unashamedly take some, making sure jungkook sees.
he clenches his jaw and rolls his eyes, but makes no move to turn to your direction.
“oh, how rude of me. what’s your name?” you reach out to shake her hands.
“nayeon,” she answers and takes your hand in hers, “you?”
you tell her your name and she nods with a sweet smile. yeah, she’s definitely too good for jungkook.
the movie starts and you’re whispering commentaries and giggling with nayeon. you both held hands during the intense scenes and teared up at the ending. it felt really nice to connect with someone like this right off the bat. she was kind and funny throughout the entirety of the movie too.
you can’t say the same for jungkook. he had his arms crossed with a deep frown stamped on his face for two whole hours.
when the movie credit rolls, jungkook stands up and holds out his hand to help nayeon up. huh, chivalry isn’t dead you suppose. nayeon stands up and waves at you.
“it was so nice meeting you! we should definitely hang out. here, let’s follow each other on instagram!” she fumbles through her purse for her phone and you notice how jungkook closes his eyes in frustration behind her.
you and nayeon exchange contacts and as you’re reclining your seat upright, you hear jungkook ask her, “would you wanna get some froyo? my treat for messing up on the tickets.”
“aw, it all worked out though! i met a new friend,” she gestures over to you. jungkook doesn’t really acknowledge nor claim he has already met you.
why would he?
“i’m glad,” he replies, “still though, i feel bad that we didn’t really hang out. still up for that sweet treat?”
nayeon nods and looks back at you, “would you like to join us?”
unbeknownst to nayeon, jungkook looks at you in desperation this time and shakes his head pleadingly. you think you’ve tortured him enough this evening and you don’t want to subject yourself to hanging out with jungkook. seeing the couple link hands in front of you, you’re sorta missing dohwan a little now … so you’ll reach out to him and see what he’s doing.
“no, it’s okay. you both should enjoy that sweet treat together. i’ll text you on instagram!” you wave and jungkook lets out a breath of relief.
“let’s go?” now, what shocks you is his soft smile towards nayeon. it’s almost a 180 to the attitude you’ve experienced with him. then again, maybe it takes a special kind of person to bring that side out of you. nayeon can definitely do that.
she waves at you again and this time jungkook also waves at you (begrudgingly) too. it’s not a goodbye, but a ‘see you later … unfortunately.’ type of wave.
you come back from dohwan’s place a little after midnight.
nothing special happened, just hung out like normally. he didn’t bring up the argument and you didn’t feel like talking about jungkook either. this was a regular occurrence in your relationship with him. fights were always difficult, but the mend was easy … cause you guys tend to just sweep the issue under the rug.
clean slate.
“jesus christ!” you jump at the sight of a tall dark figure when you reach the top of your floor. your hand flies to your chest to hold down your hammering heart.
“relax, 307. just me.” jungkook says.
“scared the shit out of me.” you murmur to yourself. you proceed to open your door just as jungkook gets his keys out too.
“fitting for a piece of shit like yourself.”
“excuse me?” you raise your brows in question.
“you heard me,” he steps back out from his door, “loud for no reason, fuck like you’re the only one in the complex, and don’t even have the decency to move a seat over. it’s no wonder the previous resident moved away.”
you really want to argue back, but he read you for filth. you really have been an asshole, still, the comment about mrs. lee hurt. you’re not what jungkook makes you to be, but you’ve given him every reason to perceive you in this manner.
“look, i’ll apologize—“
“nah, save it. i’m tired of being nice too. have the night you deserve.” with that, he goes into his apartment and you’re left contemplating how you let things get this bad and awkward with your new neighbor.
there’s no point in trying to talk to your neighbor now. it’s late. you’ll process everything first and try talking to him tomorrow.
the talk never happened.
because for the next 27 days, you’ve been woken up by a blender at 5 a.m. you let that slide for the first 5 days thinking it was jungkook’s way of venting out his frustrations, but by the end of the week, you were back on hating your neighbor.
today marks day 28. you’ve had a long day at work and dohwan has been dodgy with you this week. you call him during lunch to ask him why he’s been so distant and he immediately goes off on you saying that he feels suffocated and that he likes his space. it hurts. because you thought that when you really like someone, all you want to do is fill your day with them.
it’s the evening after your shift and you barely make it up the top of the stairs before you sit down and cry into your hands. it’s so fucking embarrassing crying over a man, especially for one that you really like. majority of the time, he really does make you feel like you’re on top of the world, but then take you down to the pits of hell.
highest of highs, lowest of lows.
it fucking hurts, but you also don’t want to be more alone than how you are.
you hear footsteps come closer and you immediately wipe away your tears and look to the other side of the railing. the person coming up doesn’t stop and walks up past you.
you know them. you know it’s him. you can tell by his cologne and the black converse he fancies.
when you think he’s far enough and in his apartment, you let yourself cry some more.
little did you know, jungkook stands at the top of the stairs, contemplating on whether he should talk to you. he thinks you’re crying because of the blender. or maybe you’re crying because you have to go home to a shitty neighbor. feels bad and guilty. hates to see women cry or anyone cry for that matter …
you hear footsteps from behind and sniffle into your hands.
“uh, 307?”
“what?” your tone is biting but that’s understandable. you’ve been under a lot of stress.
he sighs, sits down right next to you on one of the steps. his legs are long so his knees fan out a little to brush yours. you scoot away and look at him with your bloodshot eyes.
ah, shit. he feels even worse.
“i know i’ve been a dick to you from the start.” he begins.
you scoff and look away.
“you didn’t make things easy either, okay?” he rolls his eyes, “but if you’re crying about the blender …”
“oh for fuck’s sake! no, this isn’t about the blender, 305.” you huff.
“ah.” he opens his mouth and closes it to think what to say next, “lemme guess … boy trouble?”
“shut the fuck up.”
he does so this time for a few minutes until you start talking.
“look, i’ve been meaning to say this but i’m sorry for being an asshole to you. you’re new here and i gave you a bad impression of me. i don’t want to continue making this a hostile living situation for the both of us.” you meant every word you said and whether jungkook accepts your apology, that’s for him to decide. at least you were the bigger person to apologize and take accountability.
“thanks. i’m sorry for being rude too. clean slate?” he reaches his hand out for you to shake. you look at his tattooed hand and a part of you feels relieved at the prospect of a resolution. you shake his hand in agreement. his hand was warm, a little calloused, but the hold was firm and promising.
“you’ll stop with the blender now?” you muse.
“aw man, i was getting used to the daily fresh green smoothies … but i think the blender is on its last leg. i’ll spare you for now and buy premade smoothies,” he grins and winks jokingly. his smile was friendly, similar to the one he gave to nayeon that one date. speaking of which, you’ll have to text her when you get home … she’ll definitely want to hear this update. you’ve been religiously in contact with her since the movie date and she’s been your person when it came to complaining about jungkook.
you and jungkook stare out at the sunset and breathe in the autumn air. it’s nice and just what you needed.
“hey, 307?” jungkook breaks the silence after a while and you hum in response, “for what it’s worth, he sounds like a dying gorilla when he fucks.”
it was the first time you laughed all day.
things have gone back to normal between you and dohwan surprisingly. he apologized to you the next day and said he acted out because work has been on him lately. you accepted his apology.
on top of that, you and jungkook are … getting along? he’s actually not that bad. he greets you every morning and makes small talk with you about the weather when you are both at the mailroom.
oh, and the blender at 5 a.m. have stopped completely. he does complain that he misses his green smoothie, to which you reply that he can still make it … just not when you’re still in deep sleep.
“no thanks, the prep is annoying.” he brushes it off.
so one morning after grocery shopping, you pick up a cup of green smoothie from your favorite shop and drop it off at his door before he’s back from his usual run.
‘drink up, 305. - your lovely, sweet, favorite neighbor 307 ♡’
to which, he dropped off a matcha pastry to you the next day after you mentioned how you’ve been craving it lately.
‘peace offering to the demon. ps. you’re my only neighbor LOL - 305’
needless to say, this started a ritual between you and him dropping off snacks and drinks to each other.
so yeah, things have been good.
tonight, dohwan is taking you out on a movie date to watch wicked. it’s not your first choice, but you love a classic so you’re open to see this modern-day remake. plus, he’s been extra sweet to you too.
you’re standing near the ticketing area waiting for dohwan to get snacks when you suddenly hear, “307?”
you turn your head and it’s jungkook with a girl you’ve never met before. he waves and asks what you’re watching.
you point at a nearby wicked movie poster and he nods.
“we’re seeing the same movie too. sorry, forgot to introduce you both — this is jinah,” he gestures at the girl next to him and she nods at you in acknowledgment, ��and this is my neighbor.”
“ohhh the one that drilled for a week?” she marvels at you and you flush at her question.
“three days,” he corrects, “but felt like an eternity.” jungkook looks back at you like it’s an inside joke and you feel warm under his gaze.
“he’s exaggerating. eternity is waking up to a blender for almost a month.” you fire back casually and it earns a laugh from everyone.
“well, you’re here with someone this time right?” he teases since he notices your makeup is done extra nice tonight and you have on a shorter beige skirt that cuts right at the top of your thighs. you looked beautiful whether or not this was for an actual date.
anyways, it’s all said in pure jest and he knows you take no offense in it when you laugh. knows he can joke around with you now — you’ve both established a good rapport.
“mhm. you bought tickets right next to each other this time?” you retort and he snorts at your question.
jungkook stares off from a distance and his gaze changes. he takes hold of jinah’s hand in front of you.
“i’ll catch you later, 307. enjoy the movie, ‘kay?”
“oh, okay,” you stare at jungkook in confusion, “it was nice meeting you, jinah. hope you both enjoy the movie.”
they both turn and head to the the concessions first and you’re back waiting alone again, but not for long.
a hand touches your lower back and you know it belonged to dohwan.
“ready?” he hands over your drink and you both head to the screening auditorium.
there’s an unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach, but you push it away once you’ve found your seats.
jungkook feels sick.
he’s seated behind you and dohwan. that was fine — wasn’t the problem.
the issue was seeing him be overly affectionate to you once he took notice of jungkook outside the auditorium. he doesn’t want to assume, but that’s the energy he gets from dohwan. it’s too much. though perhaps that’s how he usually was to you — he should be doting to you as someone you’re romantically involved with.
jungkook has a bad feeling about him.
jungkook has been on multiple dates this year, nothing ever leading to more because there wasn’t a spark beyond physical attraction. he doesn’t want to waste anyone’s time or hurt someone in the process if he were to continue something he sees no future with. which brings him to wonder why you still entertain that man when he clearly comes and goes as he pleases.
the sex can’t be that good … based on what jungkook was forced to hear that one evening. plus, he made you cry. that man can’t be good.
well, what does he know about relationships? he’s the “serial dater” while you’ve been with the same person. obviously jungkook is doing something wrong. maybe jungkook was just projecting.
he lets out a sigh when dohwan slips his arm around your shoulders to pull you closer.
“you good?” jinah whispers.
“yeah, sorry. didn’t realize how long the movie was. ass is starting to go numb,” he smiles apologetically.
she nods and refocuses back to the big screen. jinah was nice, but a little too uptight for his liking … she would stare back blankly at him when he tells a joke and it makes him question his own humor. he’s sure he’s a funny guy — you always seemed to laugh at his remarks.
shit.
why was he thinking about his neighbor when he’s on a date with another person?
he shakes away those thoughts and zones in on the movie. just a couple more hours till he can go home and relax. a bitter part of him hopes he doesn’t have to see you and dohwan enter your place together tonight.
you and jungkook have this thing where you go on walks and get your mail at the same time on fridays. that’s the day you work from home and he’s off.
you never liked walks but jungkook called you out one day for walking extra stiff up the stairs. you can’t help it … sitting for long hours at a desk job wasn’t ideal for your body, but it got the bills paid. by the end of your shifts, you’re too burnt out to do anything. you’re not like him who goes on routine runs at the ass crack of dawn. not everyone was fortunate to have a … wait, you’re not sure what he really did for work.
“305.” you deadpan, trying to maintain your big steps to match his long strides.
“hm?” he takes notice of your walking form and slows down his pace so that you can catch up. his dimples are on full display when he looks at you and it nearly makes you forget what you were going to ask him.
“what do you do for work?”
“what’s it to you, 307?” his brows raise in question and he chuckles when you scowl.
“just wondering. you seem to have a good work-life balance.” you shrug. he has to be making some form of income to afford the cost of living in this part of the city, so if it’s not an office job like yours, you’re curious what his line of work could be in.
“currently a tattoo apprentice, but i do art commissions on the side.”
“oh?” it makes sense. he had this artistic aura to him … tattoo apprentice also made sense too with his sleeve of tattoos. you wonder how many of those he designed himself.
“that’s very cool,” you mean it. you wish you could draw but your art skills could only rival a preschooler at best.
“yeah?” he scratches his behind his head, a habit you’ve noticed he does when he gets a little shy or flustered. “parents were super against it up until they saw what i made on my first commission.”
“it’s always like that with parents, huh? if you’re not a doctor or lawyer, nothing is ever enough for them,” you shake your head. it’s a small revelation, but jungkook feels the weight of your words. he can relate.
“you like what you do?” he tries to change the topic.
“it’s okay, gets the bills paid but honestly i’m developing a shrimp back from sitting at the desk all day.” you confess.
“good thing we’re going on these walks, miss hunchback.” he quips and nudges your arm with his elbow.
you stick your tongue out at him and his smile widens. jungkook takes out his phone and shows you some of the tattoos he’s assisted with on some clients these past months. you zoom in and stare in awe — the line work and colors were beyond beautiful and clean.
“they’re amazing, jungkook.”
his nose crinkles when he smiles at your compliment and cheeks flush at the usage of his real name.
“whenever you’re free, you can come over to check out my commissions.” he offers.
“yeah? you promise this isn’t some secret invitation to get murdered?” you smile cheekily at him and he playfully rolls his eyes.
“no promises,” he says and grins when you dramatically stop in your tracks.
“come on, 307. your lunch break is almost over and i gotta get my mail.”
you and jungkook return from the mailroom with stacks of envelopes and coupon advertising from random companies.
he’s behind you looking through his stack. among his many bad habits, one is not having the patience to open his mail in the comforts of his own home. typically by the time you both get to your respective doors, he already has the majority of his envelopes torn open.
men.
you stick your key into your door and hear jungkook gasp.
“shit!” he lets out a string of curses and you glance over where he’s at in front of his door … absolutely decked out in glitter.
“what the hell is this?” he’s dusting himself off, but that only serves to worsen the damage.
all the lights in your head go off. fuck. you had forgotten about the glitter prank order you made during the time jungkook was being a little shit with his blender. you totally forgot to call the company to cancel it …
you feel bad, but you can’t help but let out a series of giggles.
“oh my … jungkook, i’m so sorry,” you say in between your fits of laughter.
he looks at you in confusion but it doesn’t take long for him to piece things together. he tips his head back and looks at you incredulously.
“you did this? 307 … this is too much. how the fuck am i gonna get rid of all this glitter?” he opens his arms out and it makes you laugh even more to see him in this state.
“‘m sorry, i …” you try to catch your breath, “forgot to cancel the request and you were being such a dickhead that time.”
“i fuckin’ look like edward cullen.” he groans, looking at you with a serious expression and that has you doubling over.
he eventually joins you in your laughter, hands clutching his stomach.
“h-here,” you say in between tears, “i’ll help you.”
you dust off some flecks of glitter on his shoulders and reach up to smear it over his cheeks. this has got to be the highlight of your week.
jungkook pulls away and laughs at your antics.
“you think this is funny, huh?” he opens his arms again and you nod while stifling away your giggles, but your demeanor changes when he smirks deviously.
his arms circle around you and presses your face into his hard chest. jungkook is cackling just as hard as you are. he’s rubbing his body on your frame and you’ve accepted your fate cause you’re no match for his strength. you’re both even now. all glittered up, laughing, and having so much fun with this “misfortune.”
you won’t admit you’re enjoying his embrace. you won’t admit you fancy his cologne and aftershave. you won’t admit how you feel so soft against the hard ridges of his torso.
you definitely won’t admit how starstruck you got when he finally lets up and stares at you cheekily, unknowing of his doings and how pretty the glitter flecks frame his cheekbones and nose bridge.
he really was perfection.
little did you know, jungkook was also completely enamored by the way your eyes sparkle despite the crazy amount of glitter now stuck on your face and body.
did time freeze? no one has said a word but you can hear and feel your hearts pounding against each other in this close proximity.
“what the fuck?” a voice pulls both you and jungkook out from that dream-like state.
you look and it’s dohwan. confusion and anger is etched and evident on his face. he’s holding a bag of takeout, for what you assume was going to be your lunch. he stalks over and grabs your wrist and yanks you away from jungkook.
“hey man, it’s not what it looks like.” jungkook says. jungkook’s expression is neutral with a hint of annoyance in his tone. dohwan pays no attention to him and looks at you instead.
“are you cheating on me?”
“the hell, dohwan?” you stare back in shock at his accusation.
realizing how awkward this situation was, you start pulling dohwan towards your apartment. you quickly turn to jungkook where he was still standing, he looks concerned for you, “sorry, jungkook. uh, i’ll catch you later.”
he nods and moves around you and dohwan to get to his apartment door.
when you and dohwan are finally in the privacy of your home, you turn and he’s setting down the takeout on your coffee table. you can tell he’s still upset because he makes no move to sit down — he leans against your wall with his arms crossed.
“well?”
“well, what? it really wasn’t what it looked like, dohwan.” you roll your eyes, making your way to your sink to wash off the glitter on your skin. glitter was a bitch to get rid of, but you’ll do just about anything to distract you of dohwan’s awful attitude. you have about 10 minutes till you have to get back to work and don’t have the time to be arguing.
“don’t fucking lie. you’re always raving about how nice he is to you now. and i’ve seen the way he looks at you. that’s not some ‘friendly neighbor’ shit,” dohwan raises his voice in frustration.
you toss the kitchen rag onto your counter and turn, “what’s so wrong about me talking about how someone is nice to me?! at least you know about the people in my life, but i don’t know jack-shit about yours. i don’t know what you’re insinuating, but you need to check yourself.”
“don’t try to spin this on me. whatever is going on with you and your neighbor, needs to stop.”
“literally nothing is happening between us??” you run your hand over your face, “i can pick and choose who stays in my life, dohwan. you can’t control that.” you try to level your breathing. you hated feeling like your partner laid claim on you as if you were some sort of property and had ownership.
don’t cry. don’t cry. don’t cry.
his eyes soften after realizing what he implied and he comes closer to you. he rubs your forearms and pulls you in for a hug. you let the tears fall now.
“i’m sorry. i didn’t mean it like that. it’s just … i was insecure.” he confesses.
you sniffle into his chest, “why?”
he chuckles, “my girl hanging around a good looking dude? who wouldn’t be insecure?”
his girl.
“wasn’t aware i was your girlfriend.” you pull away from his warmth and regret seeing the glitter you’ve transferred onto his clothing in the process.
“well … i mean, you’re technically not. who needs labels?” he brushes you off and sits on the couch now. you’re left standing there, another wave of uncertainty washes over you. 5 minutes till you need to start working … do you really want to open the can of worms right now?
fuck it.
“i don’t know. people who love each other?”
he snorts then rolls his eyes when he realizes you’re back in serious mode.
“here we go again. we’ve been through this plenty of times—“
“do you even like me?”
“yes, of course.” he answers quickly.
“do you love me?”
he’s silent.
“then what are we doing, dohwan?” the real question was … what were you doing? it’s hitting year three of this situationship and nothing more has progressed.
“hey, hey … i thought you enjoyed spending time with each other … we agreed that it was just me and you,” he comes close to you again, but you hold a hand out to keep some distance.
“i need to get back to work. can you give me some space?” you mumble, “thanks for the food.”
the fallout between you and dohwan was anything but amicable.
you both boiled it all down to two things: you want more. he wants things to remain the same.
you requested for space and a break in the meantime while you figure things out. during that time, you felt yourself distancing from jungkook too. he tried to greet you like normally after dohwan’s confrontation, yet every time you see him, you make a beeline into your apartment.
guess old habits die hard.
you took this time to focus on you. you spoke to a therapist, got in contact with some girlfriends, visited your family, and busied yourself with work. self improvement, if one could call it. your therapist recommended to decentralize men in your life for a while so that you can focus on yourself. which meant no dohwan.
… and no jungkook.
you’ve been keeping nayeon posted on your life and she calls you out for being inconsiderate to jungkook. funny, because she was on your side when he was being rude to you and immediately ghosted him after the movie date (you still haven’t told jungkook you’ve been in contact with nayeon because things have gotten a little crazy). you promised to her you’ll talk to him soon though. he was just unfortunately caught in the crossfire of your messy relationship.
honestly? you missed your neighbor — your friend. but you needed to get your head sorted out and you’d be terrible company either way.
jungkook didn’t deserve that.
the break between you and dohwan meant that you don’t talk to each other till you figured things out.
breaks meant for a reset.
he kept texting you and telling you how much he missed you.
you had to keep reminding him of the boundaries.
he eventually obliged.
thinking you were finally ready to talk weeks later, you went over to his place after work, only to find him in shock, hair disheveled, red scratch marks all over his chest and shoulders.
“oh, um, i—“ you panic, feel your heart drop to your stomach when the realization settles in after you hear another voice call out his name from behind.
dohwan took that break and fell into bed with another woman.
“w-wait, let me explain,” he follows you out his door and nearly topples over you when you turned abruptly to face him.
you feel betrayed — so much for ‘me and you.’ the anger bubbling in your chest has a way of migrating through your body. you tremble, tears threaten to fall from your eyes, and your teeth dig hard on your bottom lip … you can taste metallic.
“we’re on a break,” he says as if you weren’t aware of the terms you originally initiated.
“okay? so that means you go and fuck someone else?” your voice is shaky but you push on, “you cheated.”
“no! i mean, fuck, what did you expect me to do? we stopped talking and it was fucking lonely … i— you can’t put all the blame on me,” he stammers.
so, it was your fault?
“i didn’t make you sleep with someone else. a-all—,” you choke on a sob, “all i asked was for some space and time. you couldn’t even give me that.”
the thing is, dohwan hasn’t given you anything beyond what he was willing to get from you. he liked your company, thought you were a sweet and funny girl, and god were you good in bed. he didn’t feel ready to settle down in a relationship … felt that being with someone officially took the spark out, but he also wasn’t willing to let you go.
so he held out for as long as he could. as a result, you did too in hopes that he could find it in himself to change his feelings for you.
love is patient, love is kind.
you’ve been patient, you’ve been kind. if this is love, why does it break you down?
maybe this love wasn’t for you; but rather, he isn’t for you no matter how long you wait and the number of pennies you’ve thrown into the wishing well.
“goodbye, dohwan.”
jungkook hates overly loud sex.
it’s the reason why he takes the extra precaution to put socks on his bed frames to muffle any potential noises. if his partner was a huge moaner, he’d do what any sensible person would … stuff his fingers into their mouth. what? the girl usually doesn’t mind and it minimizes the noises. plus, it was hot.
win-win.
sex didn’t have to be over the top to show that you’re passionate. jungkook knows that very well.
it’s also why he originally lost a lot of respect for you when he overheard you and dohwan having sex that one time. well, mainly dohwan.
fuckin’ gorilla.
jungkook has been worried for you ever since that awkward glitter situation. he wanted to apologize and even talk to dohwan if it’d make things less stressful on your end.
you’ve ghosted him for weeks. no more walks, small talk, snack trades, or trips to the mailroom.
he has a feeling it has something to do with dohwan.
just like how he knows the sobs emitting through his walls tonight has something to do with him.
jungkook hates overly loud sex, but more than that, he hates the sounds of your cries.
‘cheer up, 307. you deserve some sweetness in your day. ps. i’m gonna make you run if you keep missing our walks. also? stop avoiding me, it’s annoying - jk’
you smile and sip the banana milk jungkook left outside your door.
he always had a way with cheering you up despite being a headache for some time in your life. your therapist recommended to decentralize men from your life for a while … sure, jungkook fits in that category, but he’s also your friend.
you slowly let him back in.
he’s been good to you. though, you can’t say the same for yourself. you’ve been a shitty neighbor and a shitty friend.
yet jungkook shrugs it off and treats you normally.
you’ve been mending a broken heart and jungkook has been a great company meanwhile.
“you really need to work on your conflict avoidance, 307.” jungkook says one evening. he’s sprawled out on your couch with a bag of chips in his hands. it’s movie night — a tradition he forced upon you because you’ve apparently never watched the movie trolls.
you peel your eyes from the screen and tilt your head, “what do you mean?”
“any time something gets tough, you run away. gotta stop that, say what’s on your mind and work it out.”
“hm.”
“what?” he presses.
“nothing.”
“see? you’re doing it again. just say what you wanna say,” jungkook rolls his eyes.
“fine,” you chew on your bottom lip, “i hate this movie.”
jungkook had picked trolls 2 and it was so much more awful in comparison to the first one you were forced to watch last weekend.
“fuckin knew it. you’ve been spacing out all night,” he laughs, “see, doesn’t it feel good to be honest bout your feelings?” he reaches for your remote to switch to another movie. you watch him. really take him in and almost want to laugh at how horrible your first couple of months was with him and now he’s in your apartment watching awful movies with you to nurse your brokenheart.
you really had read jungkook wrong. he wasn’t just some conventionally attractive man that used his pretty privilege to get his way. he was genuinely a good person.
which makes you think … why the fuck is he hanging around someone like you on a friday night? he could be hanging out with some friends or going on a blind date with a pretty girl. better yet, why isn’t he in a relationship with someone?
was he just like you?
his voice brings you out of your thoughts, “alright, spill it 307. you look like you have something else to say.”
you sigh.
“how are you still single? just … i know you’re always dating different people. it can’t be that bad for you right? i mean, if you’re struggling … i feel kind of hopeless for myself.”
jungkook looks at you, dimples on display as he contemplates on what he wants to say next. the thing about jungkook is that he looks like he belongs in your circle — fits perfectly, actually. has a way of making you feel safe and comfortable about asking hard questions. he may tease you, but he’ll never judge you.
he ruffles your hair.
“just haven’t found the right one. it takes time and i’m in no rush. you shouldn’t either.” you feel yourself soften from his remarks until, “or else you’ll end up with a gorilla again.”
jungkook is treading in dangerous territories.
aside from trying to potty train his new doberman puppy, bam, he’s faced with another issue.
he may have developed a small crush on his neighbor. he can’t pinpoint exactly when he started getting that fuzzy warm feeling around you. it was a telltale sign when he’d wake up and sleep to the thought of you.
you can’t really blame all of this on him though. you’ve been a little more open about hanging out with him since your breakup with dohwan. jungkook has gotten used to your presence as a result. some people would see it as using jungkook as a rebound, but he feels anything but that.
you’re a breath of fresh air to hang around after a long day of work. which is funny cause there was a period of time he considered hexing you. now? he longs to see you and fill in gaps of his day with you. when he doesn’t see you, he thinks of you.
that just might be his demise.
even bam has taken a liking to you and often refuses to let you go back home when you are over.
like dog, like owner.
“aw bammie,” you kneel down, “i’ll see you tomorrow.”
bam whines and follows you to the door.
“you can stay if you like, the guys won’t mind.” jungkook reasons. he’s having a small get together with some of his friends and extended the invite to you. you declined, telling him you don’t want to intrude and he should spend some quality time with them.
“just say that you want to be with me 24/7 and go,” you joke. jungkook won’t admit to you he does.
“nah, just need someone to watch bam while i have some bro time.” he teases back.
“hire a dog nanny then,” your hands automatically reaches down to scratch behind bam’s ear. there’s no need to hire one cause you’d willingly take care of bam for free. it’s all fun and jokes, jungkook knows this. he laughs and holds bam back from following you out the door.
“be on your best behavior tonight for your daddy, ‘kay?” you talk to bam like you’re his mom and jungkook’s stomach does flips at the mention of ‘daddy’ leaving your lips, “if it gets too much, you can sleep over at my place.”
bam has a sleeping mat at your place too. you’ve gotten it for him when jungkook comes over to watch movies — insisted that the pup should have a comfortable space in your home.
jungkook feels like he’s sharing custody with you. everything feels more domestic and it’s fucking with jungkook’s head and heart. which is why he asked you to dog sit bam while he goes on a date next weekend with some client’s friend he met at the tattoo parlor. thinks this date would be a good reset from you.
you wave goodbye to him, a playful grin adorning your lips, “have fun tonight, 305. if it gets too much, you can also come to my place too.”
he hates when you tease like this. makes him feel like he holds a space in your life more than he already should. knows you’re joking, but can tell there’s some truth in your statement. you’re attached to him just as much as he is to you.
“also, try not to be too loud tonight.”
“no promises,” he laughs, “hobi-hyung will be over.”
you giggle, you’ve met hoseok in the passing and also teased him too for causing a ruckus at the housewarming party. all his friends like you — it’s no surprise jungkook would eventually too.
so yeah, he’s treading in dangerous territories.
you’ve really been focused on yourself and your friendships. on your hardest days where you yearn for intimacy, you force yourself to be okay with the idea and concept of being alone. there’s a lot of bad days, but they get better.
it’s not always about being in isolation though.
it’s about not being dependent on someone to fill a void.
with dohwan, you realized you fell in the pattern of needing to be around him and when he wasn’t there, the world crumbled beneath your feet. over time, you realized he wasn’t good for you.
wrong person, wrong time.
because the right person will always make you feel safe and seen.
jungkook was right. it’ll take time to find that person — there’s no rush.
yet, you have this disquieting feeling when you see him rustling through his home to get ready for his date tonight. what do you do when you feel like the right person might be slipping away under your nose?
right person, wrong time, you suppose.
bam, his not so small puppy, lays his head on your lap and would occasionally lift it when jungkook walks close. if bam is doting with you, he’s completely devoted to jungkook.
doesn’t realize that his dad is gonna leave you both until he puts on his shoes at the door.
“ah-ah, bammie, stay,” you hold him and he whimpers for jungkook.
“well? how do i look?” jungkook does a quick 360 and you wanna poke fun at him, but you can tell he’s on edge for whatever reason. he has no reason to be. he’s charming, handsome, and knows exactly what to say or do to make someone’s heart skip a beat as he’s done so to you numerous times — you’d never admit it.
he’s your neighbor and most importantly, your friend. it’s a sacred relationship and boundary you’re hesitant to break. so you swallow down whatever you’re feeling and smile reassuringly to him, “you look great, jungkook.”
he beams and extends his hands out for a high-five, “thanks, wish me luck.”
your hands make contact with his and it feels electrifying.
“no luck needed, mr. 305 worldwide.” he absolutely hates the new nickname you’ve given him, doesn’t argue back though, simply scoffs and looks at the time on his phone.
“now go before you’re late and bam bolts out the door for you.” you shoo him out his own apartment.
he reaches down to pat bam on his head and give him some tender smooches.
“call me if there’s an emergency or if you’re bored.” he tells you with his hands shoved in his pockets and some of his bangs fall onto his forehead. there’s something so boyish about his mannerisms … you swallow thickly when you feel the knots tighten in your stomach. a part of you wonders if you tell him to bail on the date, would he? you’re not cruel enough to do that to him and his date. they could be soulmates for all you know.
“and what? you’ll come entertain me?” your eyes squint, “go enjoy your date, 305. we’ll be here.”
before you know it, he’s out the door and you’re left wondering what if.
jungkook didn’t realize how much of a disaster the date was going until his date seated across from him rolls her eyes.
“i’m sorry … am i boring you with my story?” he was telling her how he had to help you break into your own apartment because you forgot to bring your keys in the middle of the night.
“it just seems like you’re wasting both our times.” she says and places her drink down. her red manicured fingers circle the rim of her cup.
he’s confused. jungkook has been doing his best to keep the date afloat by talking and asking questions. he thought it’s been going well, minus the couple of times he checked his phone to see if he got any emergency texts from you about bam.
“i mean, why are you here when you clearly like someone else?”
“i don’t get—wait, what?”
“your neighbor 007 or whatever.” she says. it’s the wrong number and she knows it, but wants to see if jungkook reacts, “you’ve been talking about her all night.”
has he? he was just making light conversation … you’re a part of his life so slipping your name here and there feels natural.
“look, you seem like a nice guy. you’re obviously good looking too. if you’re not looking for anything serious, we can go back to my apartment right now for some fun. but long term? it feels like you have someone waiting at home for you.”
and the mood goes sour. jungkook is used to this. used to his dates objectifying him as a quick and good fuck — granted, he’s played this to his advantage when he was younger. now? it feels meaningless. he isn’t upset at that.
it’s the utter realization that he does have someone special to him and you’ve been right under his nose all this time. he’s always telling you to be honest with your feelings, yet he can’t even bring himself to uphold that advice for whatever reason.
jungkook apologizes to his date again, pays for the tab, and rushes home.
home can be a place, but for jungkook, it’s seeing you on his couch and greeting him with a sleepy smile.
bam jumps off your lap to nudge jungkook’s leg for attention.
“has he been good?” jungkook asks while scratching bam’s head, though he stops momentarily at the sight of you stretching and your shirt lifts a little to reveal the curves of your hips.
“mhm, an angel. how was the date?”
he contemplates on lying, but knows better. needs to practice what he preaches.
“bad.”
“oh? wanna talk about it?”
“uh, i kinda fucked it up,” jungkook toes off his shoes and avoids your eye contact.
“classic, first impressions have never been your strongest suit.” you put on your jacket and jungkook panics at the thought of you leaving early. he exhales a breath he’s been holding when you plop back down on his couch where he soon joins you.
“i’m not always that bad.” he mumbles.
“i know, i’m just teasing you.” you reach over to pinch his cheek.
when he doesn’t reply, it gets you a little worried. you didn’t mean to hurt his feelings.
“sorry—“
“i kept bringing you up during the date.” he cuts you off.
“oof, no girl wants to hear about another girl …” technically, you’re hoping jungkook doesn’t talk about this one … let alone his previous dates or exes.
“i know,” he murmurs, leans his head back, and sighs, “she … called me out on it.”
“good, as she should.”
jungkook hesitates with his next words, but pushes forward, “said it’s cause i liked you.”
you pause. you could hear a pin drop in the room, minus bam’s paws making contact with the hardwood floor.
“oh … um,” you’re not dumb, you understand what he’s implying. you just don’t know how you’re going to run away from this conversation.
“i know you’re already planning your escape, 307,” he chuckles. his laugh sounds a little melancholy and an instant flood of guilt rushes through you.
“what! no! i-i just don’t know what to say,” you nibble on your lips. you’re fucking scared for what’s to come.
“just hear me out, okay?”
you nod, listen to him clear his throat and exhale a shaky breath.
“i’ve really enjoyed spending time with you. maybe it’s cause i’m a creature of habit or whatever … well no, i don’t think it’s that. i like being around you and i’m thankful you’re in my life.” he looks and smiles at you fondly, as if he is preparing himself for the biggest rejection, “i like you … a lot. you don’t have to accept my feelings nor do anything with it. these feelings are mine and i just wanted to be honest with you. at the end of the day, i’d still like to remain friends as long as you’ll allow me.”
you want to fucking cry. he’s always been better at words and expressing himself. you see it in how he treats his friends, his dog, his profession and art … most importantly, you. you also want to be honest with him, but it already seems like he’s accepting the fate of nothing more.
you owe him the truth at least.
“jungkook … i—“ you begin, “i like you a lot too.”
jungkook lets out an exasperating grunt — he thinks you’re pitying him.
“please don’t feel the need to sugarcoat, 307. i just wanted to be—“
you press your lips to his. the kiss was too quick for anyone to process anything. you’ll remember though. you’ll remember his strawberry flavored chapstick, the cold lip piercing barrels, and the way he leans in slightly to chase after your lips when you pull away too soon. jungkook’s eyes widen at the realization that you just kissed him. all too short and he doesn’t think he can stop thinking about you after this anymore even if he tried.
“your feelings are yours,” you hold his hand, “but these are mine too.”
he whispers your name lowly and you shake your head.
“i’m no good with words,” you confess, “i just know that i like you too. but … i’m also a fucking mess, jungkook.”
“huh? no, you’re—“
“yeah, i am. i just got out of something long term … it wouldn’t be good for me to jump into another relationship. i don’t think it’s fair for you to deal with all my baggage when i haven’t sorted myself out.”
he nods, a little dejected but he understands what you mean.
right person, wrong time.
“okay,” he finally says, “nothing will change. friends?”
“friends,” you agree.
it’s a promise out of respect for you. will you regret this? possibly. though, everything feels normal when he walks you to your door later and wishes you a goodnight.
“don’t be fucking weird after tonight. if you avoid me, i’m making you run 10 laps every friday, 307.”
“rude,” you roll your eyes, “i should be saying that to you. don’t be fucking weird or else you’re getting another glitter bomb in the mail.”
“that shit was the worst to get off.”
“funny as hell though.”
“yeah, for you.”
everything feels so natural and safe with jungkook. how he looks at you, laughs at your jokes, eyes twinkle when you do the same for him. you don’t need the night sky when you got galaxies staring back at you.
“with all due respect, you’re being stupid.” nayeon says through the speaker.
“how? we both agreed that staying friends would be the best.” you reply a little louder over your sink. your kitchen was overdue for a cleaning and the weekends were the perfect time to catch up on chores.
you’re on the phone with nayeon and it’s a good distraction while you busy yourself with other things at the same time. though, you’re sort of regretting the call now with nayeon berating you for your decision to remain friends with jungkook a month ago.
“people can still date and work on themselves. it’s not a linear thing.”
“yeah, but—“
“you’re just scared. i know you.”
“nayeon …”
“jungkook and dohwan aren’t the same. anyone can get hurt in a relationship, but you shouldn’t deny yourself of something out of fear.”
“yes, but … i don’t think i’d be able to face jungkook if something bad does happen.” you’re serious. running away is your strong suit and you’d move out immediately if shit hits the fan.
“so you’d have no regrets staying like this?”
you don’t reply and that was an answer in itself.
“why are you so hellbent on me and jungkook? i thought you hated him …” it’s sort of funny to be talking to nayeon of all people about jungkook. hell, it’s thanks to jungkook’s mess up on their first tinder date that helped you land your friendship with nayeon.
everything happens for a reason.
“i only hated him cause you did. that’s what friends do, silly. also, if you’re feeling awkward because he and i dated … don’t. there wasn’t anything more. anyways, stop avoiding. you always do this.” she’s right. you’re the queen of avoiding hard conversations.
“i don’t want to lose a friend, nayeon.”
“you won’t. but you’ll lose your chance at experiencing something beautiful, sweetie,” she says, “you owe it to yourself. but hey, i gotta go to my pilates class. i’ll text you later, okay? i love you!”
“okay, love you too. i’m sorry for being difficult. don’t pull a muscle in class!”
“if i do, will you give me a massage?” she laughs, “and no, you’re never difficult. just you being you.”
the call ends and you’re left alone once again with your thoughts. things haven’t really changed between you and jungkook. he’s still his chipper self. you just yearn for more time with him these days. every subtle touch … whether it be his hand on your lower back guiding you upstairs, his fingers brushing yours during the walks, or when he massages your feet upon request sends you into a place where you feel yourself succumbing to your deepest desires.
you want more.
you can tell jungkook does too. he’s unashamed in his affections towards you but he’ll never pressure you or cross that boundary you’ve set.
you realize it hurts to deny yourself of wanting someone who wants you just as equally.
you’re at jungkook’s place again one evening. bam is all tuckered out from his walk and jungkook is fixing a bowl of popcorn to snack on while you search through netflix for something to watch.
it’s your pick tonight and you wanted to watch a crime documentary. ghost and thrillers don’t interest you, but crimes? yeah, full body chills because they’re real.
you turn to see jungkook in a big white t-shirt with grey sweats — he looks so comfortable. he’s seasoning the popcorn and catches you staring at him. he shakes his head and smiles back down bashfully at his bowl.
he looks like home … no, he feels like home.
fuck.
you really are torturing yourself.
when jungkook settles onto the couch and the documentary starts, you scoot closer to him. you don’t know if you’re making a fool of yourself, but jungkook pays no mind. his arm circle around you effortlessly and you nestle your cheek into his chest.
so warm — he smells so nice. jungkook sports on a lax expression, yet you can feel and hear the rapid thumps of his heart.
“you sure friends cuddle when they watch shit together?” he mumbles, eyes trained on the television.
“no,” you look up at him, “do you not want to?” you start to move away, but jungkook holds you in place.
he feels your smile through his shirt. yeah, you’re torturing him and he’s enjoying it.
as the documentary plays, jungkook gets immersed in the story. he looks a little silly with his big eyes and mouth slightly ajar as he soaks in all the crime details and backstory. his hand involuntarily moves to massage your scalp and you feel yourself lulled to sleep under his touch.
after a while, he calls your name and gently shakes you awake.
“hey sleepyhead. had a good nap?” he muses.
“mhm, sorry … was so tired from work. did i miss a lot?” you look at the dark television screen and feel guilty.
“just the entire documentary,” he teases, “it’s alright, you wouldn’t be traumatized like me now. i know i’m going to be having nightmares.”
“‘m sorry,” you snuggle closer to him and his breath hitches, “anything i can do to help?”
“hmm …” he holds his thinking pose, “i don’t know, maybe a kiss?”
“just kidding, 307. it’s late, so let’s get you hom—”
“yeah? think a kiss will make you feel better?” you press on.
you knew he was joking, but there’s a surge of confidence coursing in you when you push up on him and he swallows hard. he says your name in warning but he makes no effort to move or push you away. he wants this badly too. been thinking about you and your lips since you last kissed him — never stopped.
“don’t do something you’ll regret.” his hand cradles your cheek.
“i’m not,” your nose brush against his, “i wanna kiss you. please, will you let me?” you ask with pleading eyes and jungkook lets out a shuddering breath and nods.
you look down at his parted lips and back at his hooded eyes. you’re not sure who moved first — it doesn’t matter.
when your lips meet, it’s like heaven and hell collided and made earth — waves crashing onto land, blue horizons, and the smell of pinewood after rain. you don’t think you can let go of this feeling any time soon and when you finally do give into your longings, life feels a little more salvageable … freeing.
jungkook slots his lips between yours, pulling you up to straddle his lap. he moans when your hands tangle in his hair and pulls you in closer if that was even possible.
you lick into his parting mouth when he pants, indulge in the way he sounds as he’s kissing you back. the kiss is hard and passionate — so much more different than the first one you had. there’s a sense of urgency here … like there’s a time constraint or limitation to your affections. you wish you could reassure him; though the best you can do at this moment is to drink him in as much as he allows you to. his hands roam all over your body and you shiver in pleasure when one of his hand travels to the front of your throat possessively. there’s no pressure in his hold, but it’s telling you that you belong here with him.
when you finally do pull away, you plant dainty kisses on the corner of his lips and jaw. he giggles at the tickling feeling and brings your face back to his to give you a much gentler kiss. though you are no longer kissing, your foreheads stay connected in place.
“there, much better, right?” you say breathlessly.
“mhm,” he replies, “should’ve used the trauma card earlier if i knew i’d be getting free kisses.”
your brain is going a mile a second, but you’re sure of this.
“you don’t need to,” you say a little uncertain. jungkook straightens himself in his seated position when he realizes you’re about to say something serious.
“you can kiss me whenever you want … if you want! i know i said we should stay friends, but i think i like you too much to just stay that way. i want to see where things go and i’m fucking scared. i mean, fuck, am i making any sense? please say something,” you’re rambling and jungkook can only smile as you unravel through your confession.
of course he wants more with you.
“just say you want me and go, 307.” he laughs when you pull away cutely. he has no intentions of letting you go and you had no intentions of leaving. it’s too comfortable in his embrace.
“we’ll take things slow, okay?” he kisses your nose in reassurance.
“okay.”
fast forward three months, you and jungkook have been dating each other — slow and steady as promised. no official title (yet) but you know he’s exclusively seeing you. you’re enjoying his company and there’s no rush. when there’s something special and secure, it’s all smooth sailing and calm tides. you never have to guess with him.
he feels the same with you.
this marks the 13th weekend date with you and he’s going to do it. jungkook is going to ask you to be his girlfriend. he’s fucking nervous … has a whole date planned: dinner, movies, then back to his place where he’ll officially ask you.
part of him wants to wait for the next weekend because the number 13 was bad luck, but he’s felt nothing but luck with you. luck in the chances of meeting you in this apartment complex, luck in your friendship, and now luck with the prospect of love.
so when your door swings open to reveal you in a short black satin dress, hair done prettily, and your skin dewey and sparkly from your makeup, he knew was going to make 13 lucky no matter what.
“you look beautiful,” jungkook compliments and holds out his hand to walk you down the stairs.
“you don’t look half bad too,” you taunt, taking his warm hand. there’s no malice cause jungkook knows how you feel about him. notices how your eyes rake over his form, has caught you checking him out plenty of times before, felt the way your lips moved on his skin to praise how hot he looked one evening despite him coming back looking like a sweaty hog that’s been run over by a train.
if you’re curious … aside from making out and heavy petting paired with some dry humping sessions here and there, no, they haven’t had sex. probably for the better, it’s already hard enough to separate from each other after every hangout.
slow and steady. you are both fine with that.
“sooo, you gonna tell me where we’re going or is this where you murder me?” you check your lip gloss in the rear view mirror. jungkook’s right hand naturally find its way to your thighs while he drives.
“you’ll find out soon,” he gives you a little squeeze and it sends a little tingle to your core.
it’s going terribly.
traffic was absolutely ass for no reason, so they get to their first destination 45 minutes later than anticipated. the restaurant he had reservations for let him know that the kitchen caught on fire the moment he parked in the lot.
okay, fine. to the movies it is.
except, the movie stopped halfway through due to some technical difficulties. he was going to lose his mind, but you were a good sport through it all. jungkook still had one final trick up his sleeve for you.
when you both finally get back to his place with bags of takeout, jungkook lets out a wail of frustration.
“bam, no!”
all the balloons he blew up have been popped. you look past his shoulders to see a torn up sign with the words: wil u e my fren?
bam prances to you and jungkook with his wagging tail, unaware of jungkook’s inner anguish and turmoil. jungkook runs his hands over his face and freezes in place.
“aw baby,” you try comforting jungkook, “it was an accident. bam didn’t know.”
“i know, i just … fuck, gimme a minute.” jungkook stalks over to his bedroom and closes the door. you place the bags of food on the dining table and crouch down to pet bam.
“you really upset your dad, bammie. he worked really hard on this,” you know bam doesn’t understand a single word you’re saying, but you’re disappointed for jungkook too. jungkook really put in the effort and you’re touched by it all. he really wants you and you want nothing more than to be his.
you feed bam his dinner and set the takeout in the fridge, unsure of when you and jungkook will be ready to eat.
hesitantly, you knock on jungkook’s door. know you don’t need his permission to come in — you’ve slept over plenty of times, but still do it out of courtesy.
“can i come in, kook?”
a moment of silence ensues before you hear a little, “… yeah.”
jungkook was on his bed, feet still on the floor with his arms sprawled out. poor boy.
you climb onto bed next to him and lay your head on his shoulder.
he’s visibly upset — not at you of course. he just wanted to make this special.
“that was fucking cute. no one has ever done that for me before.” you say. the best you got from dohwan were a bouquet of roses sent to your workplace. jungkook’s efforts superseded your expectations.
“which part? no dinner, no movies, or the shit show of a sign?”
“all of it.”
“pff, don’t lie.” he sulks.
you throw your leg over his torso to straddle his waist.
“i’m not! you’re so fucking sweet,” you move down to kiss his cheek when he doesn’t look up at you.
“come on, don’t you want my answer?” you place his hands on your hips, wanting him to touch you somewhere.
he cocks his brow at you, a little smile playing at the corners of his lips.
“fine fine, i’ll be your ‘fren’ if that’s what you want.”
he covers his face in embarrassment, “ugh, that shit was so humiliating. bam isn’t getting any treats for the next three days.”
“hey! don’t punish my baby. it was an honest mistake.” you reassure him, “plus, i gave him an earful.” yeah, and his dinner right after. it’s no wonder bam likes you a lot more these days.
“okay, okay … i’m still sorry about today. nothing went accordingly.” jungkook sighs and rubs soothing circles on your hips with his thumbs.
“you’re not allowed to punish yourself either,” you say a matter of fact, “did you mean it though?” you look at him through your lashes.
“hm?”
“want me as your girlfriend?” when you finally say those words, it sets off a bundle of butterflies in your stomach.
jungkook quickly sits up, holding you securely so you don’t topple over, “of course, i do. just wanted to make it special for you.”
you felt fucking special.
so fucking special in how you said yes, saw how he beamed at your answer, kisses you silly, tongue running down your neck, the little bites on your collarbone — you’re on cloud 9.
he involuntarily drags your hips over his clothed length and you whimper upon contact.
“you hungry, baby? we didn’t have dinner yet,” jungkook asks innocently through his heavy breaths, but you’re too busy trying to unbutton his dress shirt. how could he possibly think about food at a time like this? then again, you have to remember he’s the biggest foodie known to earth. he’s caring of your wellbeing so of course he’d worry if you’re hungry.
he’s also your boyfriend now.
you shake your head. you don’t just want him — you need him.
you slide off of him and are on your knees in between his legs. he looks at you through his heavy lids when you clock your head to the side, waiting for the green light to take off his pants.
“you’ve been so good to me, planning this date … lemme show you how thankful i am.”
jungkook loves being praised and rewarded. he especially loves it even more coming from you. he lets out a moan when you run your hand down his clothed bulge. yes, jungkook has had sex before — honestly, don’t ask him about his body count … he’s not sure either. what he’s sure is that he loses all senses when you touch him — like a virgin touched for the very first time.
his pants are down and kicked off to the side, shirt unbuttoned haphazardly, and head thrown back when you settle between his legs to give his hard length a squeeze.
he’s so fucking big in your hand and your mouth nearly waters at the sight of his precum leaking from the slit of his cock. fuck, you don’t know how he’s going to fit in your mouth, but it doesn’t matter. you’re going to make him come undone one way or another.
“baby, i’m literally going to nut if you keep squeezing me like that.”
you laugh, “how long are you going to last inside me then?”
“fuck, you can’t say shit like that.”
“why not?” you press a small kiss on his hip bone and pump his cock with your hand. his eyes closes and mouth drops open at the change of movement.
“gonna nut even faster,” he chuckles.
jungkook hisses when you lick a long stripe underneath his shaft without warning. one of his hand reaches behind your head for support while the other one grips his bedsheets.
“oh god,” he lets out a small moan when you wrap your lips around the head of his cock and begin to bob your head at a pace that has him seeing stars.
his cock was lathered with your spit and his precum. the sounds you made while you sucked him off were nearly pornographic. his eyes almost rolled to the back of his head when his cock hits the back of your throat.
“shit, oh f-fuck,” his fingers are caught in your hair and your moans vibrate against him when he gently pushes your head down while he fucks up into your mouth.
if you keep going like this, he wasn’t going to last long and he really wants to … can’t bring himself to cum in your mouth just yet. he really wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to nut quick, so he pulls you away when he nearly cums. you breathe heavily through your swollen lips. jungkook runs his thumb on your cheeks where some mascara has smeared as a result of your doing.
you’re still so fucking perfect.
he lifts you from your kneeled position back onto his lap and kisses you slow and tenderly. jungkook whines into your mouth as he tastes himself on your tongue. your dress has ridden up on your waist, the the thin straps are loose and off your shoulders.
“i somehow fucked up the entire night and you still decided to give me the best head? must really like me or something,” jungkook looks at you endearingly and takes notice of how you’re rutting yourself onto his length.
“you know i do. my boyfriend deserves the best.” jungkook’s heart soars at hearing the word boyfriend leave your lips.
yes, he’s yours.
you shake in pleasure as you roll your hips deliciously slow on him. you’re practically soaked through your thin panties.
“did you get this wet just by sucking me off, baby?”
you nod and trail kisses on his cheeks and jaw, “all for you, kook. you always make me this wet.”
he takes so much pride in how he’s able to get you all worked up like this.
jungkook wasn’t expecting to have sex with you tonight, but it’s like you said … it’s special. the rest of your clothing join his in a pile on the ground. he rolls you onto your back and drinks in your naked form. you shy away from his stares and kiss up at him.
your hand reach between you both while he continues to kiss you and you position his still-hard cock in between your folds for that additional friction. the wet clicks mixes in with both your pantings and synchronized moans. every time the head of his cock slides and catches onto your swollen clit, you shudder and arch your back in pleasure.
“want you to fuck me,” you kiss his pouty lips and down his neck, “please?”
jungkook leans back a little, sits on the heels of his feet, and pushes your thighs close to your chest. the angle lets him move and slide your hips up and down his length even more. you gasp and call out his name in wanton.
he drops your legs down and closes the distance between you both again. his bare chest brushes against yours and he lines his cock at your entrance.
“you’re so perfect,” his breath fans over your face, “so lucky to have you.” jungkook swoops his arms under you in a tight embrace. you look at him through your glassy eyes and wrap your arms around his neck.
your heart swells at his words.
there’s little to no resistance when jungkook finally enters you.
it’s a mixture of sweet, nasty, loving, and primal desire how jungkook fucks you into his sheets. he hates loud sex, but he wants to hear all of you. the way you mewl, whimper, cry, and breathe — all of it.
and when you wrap your legs around him and coax him into cumming inside you while your fingers trace the planes of his back, he knows he’s done for.
you giggle, nudge your forehead on his, hold his hand, and kiss all over his face. the afterglow on you both is stunning.
“you’re right, you didn’t last long at all.” you hum. jungkook raises one of his eyebrows and smiles mischievously. it’s a fucking lie since jungkook knows he made you cum at least twice in the span of fucking you, but who would you be if you didn’t try challenging him a little?
he doesn’t have to say anything before slipping down your body and burying his face in between your legs. he licks up your slit tentatively, watches your brows furrow and mouth part, and moans into your heat when your hand travels to his head to push him down as he did to you.
“don’t worry, i’m not going anywhere,” jungkook means it both literally and figuratively. doesn’t understand how anyone could part from you. it’s their loss.
he continues lapping up your mixed essence, nipping at your inner thighs on occasion when your hips jerk away from the pleasure.
“kook, mmph- yes! just like that,” you encourage when he wraps his lips around your clit. he sucks, soothes, and makes out with your messy cunt. he wanted to draw out the night longer, toy and dangle your pleasure in front of you as a punishment for your teasing. knows he’s the reason you’re this wet, can’t bring himself to edge you on a special night like this — maybe another time when he’s feeling more mean. he has all the time in the world with you; there’s no rush.
tonight is all about you, his girlfriend — his.
“so close, baby,” you look down, hips stuttering under his hold as he doesn’t let up with his ministrations on your clit. he trails his fingers at your entrance, coating them with your juices before entering you slowly.
“yeah? won’t you give me another one? come on, i know you can do it,” he says between bated breaths. you shake and arch your back, mouth parts open but no sound comes out as you let the waves of pleasure ride over. the squelching sounds increase as his fingers fuck into you faster.
“i-i’m fucking cumming,” you cry out and jungkook nods in acknowledgement, moaning with you to draw out your orgasm. when you come for the third time that night, he wants to paint the image in his memory and revisit it on a rainy day. no promises that he won’t sport a hard on every time. the sight of you quivering, hands squeezing your chest and rolling your nipples between your fingers to prolong the pleasure, has his head spinning. jungkook trails kisses down your pussy, takes his fingers out and licks them clean before spreading you wider to clean you up with his tongue. he only part ways with your cunt when you whine for him.
he comes back up your body slowly, presses his lips on your tummy and giggles when you squirm from the sensation. however, when he is finally face to face with you again, jungkook has on this determined look.
he can’t seem to get enough of you and your body. addicted, he is.
“you’re not done with me, aren’t you?” you give him that pretty post-orgasmic smile.
never, he thinks.
jungkook was about to reply until the rumbles of your stomach cuts through the silence. it should be embarrassing but you feel close enough to jungkook that you both laugh at how unserious the situation is.
“come on baby, let’s go eat our dinner.” he pulls you up and puts you in one of his oversized t-shirts.
you still believe your ideal neighbor should be mindful, quiet, and kind. jungkook was certainly not mindful, quiet, or kind with how he entered into your life.
though, he wasn’t just someone who’d be your neighbor by the law of attraction and the cosmic pull of the universe.
love is patient, love is kind.
you know you’ve found your home — you just never expected it to be right next door.
fin.
a/n: tadaaaaaa. what’d you think? 😜
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anaconamor · 9 months ago
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as time gets close - jude bellingham x reader.
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quick sum: almost close to your due date, what is wrong with a late-night grocery trip with your very excited and anxiously waiting fiance?
wc: 1.8k | masterlist | jude's masterlist
psa 🗣️: a little dad! jude blurb bc we haven’t seen much of this on the timeline!! like always hope you enjoy 🤍
"why are you bending down? you know that is bad for you," you rolled your eyes at your fiance's scolding, grabbing the keys from the floor. "i dropped the keys by accident," you say as you pick the correct key that belonged to the lock. jude rubbed your belly, ensuring you were okay before helping you out to the car, the reusable bags tucked underneath his arm.
"did you bring the list?" you ask him seeing as he nods and pulls it out from the pockets of his hoodie. "i did. i also brought you some snacks because you didn't eat much after getting some nausea," you pouted your lips leaning up to peck his cheek thanking him. "what would i do without you?" you tease, a playful scoff falling from his lips.
"what makes you think you'd be without me? i'm attached to you for life remember?" he grabs your left hand kissing over your ring finger as he gives you a knowing look. you feel as he brings your intertwined hands to your belly, "and you're carrying my baby in there."
"really i couldn't tell," you say sarcastically.
"let's make it quick because my feet already hurt and i want to sleep," you advised letting out a tired yawn. despite being close to your due date, you still had some work to do before maternity leave. making calls to set meetings, attending them over zoom, filing paperwork, in charge of making sure the firm doesn't backfire, and planning some stuff out for your wedding.
jude had told you multiple times to take it easy, but placing that aside, he always helped you unconditionally. in the shower, when cooking, taking care of chores, before bed, and attending all your doctor's appointments. he was your personal midwife and wanted to take care of you the most he could.
you remembered to look on his face when you told him you were expecting, the tears on his face as he spoke to your barely bump all night and traced his hands on your belly. singing and humming lullabies and stories about his day. since then he wanted to protect you the best he could.
going to the grocery store at this time was nothing new, in fact, it became so prevalent now that you were pregnant because you craved everything. making jude do a late run to pick up your cravings or groceries for the upcoming weeks. the same store, at the same time.
you placed your purse on the cart, snuggling into your jacket as the cold air inside the store blew you away. you followed jude who picked out veggies and greens for his meal prepping, helping him tie the bags and weigh them on the digital scale that produced labels. you watched in awe as your boyfriend picked out three pairs of different flowers. "what are these for?" you asked, smelling the flowery scent.
"for the house. we need to replace the old ones that dried out," jude says with a shy grin. "you were the one who said plants and flowers bring a sense of home into our house, " jude recalled your words, kissing your temple, pushing the cart since it became a bit heavier. "i did say that didn't i? well i wasn't wrong," you shrug, wrapping a hand around his bicep as he trailed along isles to pick up the different items on the list.
he did all the heavy lifting as you reached and picked stuff up from your level, like spices and eggs. you turn your back for a few seconds to retrieve some milk and coffee beans for the morning, to see the cart filled with pop tarts and other salty snacks. "no no no," you shake your head, as jude whines out protests. "y/n we need them! they're even on sale!"
“jude, i don’t care! we just got some three days ago!,” you say laughing, putting back the box of pop tarts. “y/n i’m telling you right now, in a couple of hours or days you’re gonna have me running back here for them,” jude states following behind you.
“am not!” you quickly defend, bringing a hand to your aching back. “are too! last night you had me running out for cheetos. what’s it going to be today? kettled popcorn? or wingstop?” jude teased making you rolls your eyes and focusing back on to what needed to get done. “don’t forget we need to pick some of that acid reflex stuff for you, to get rid of the heartburn,” jude reminds you, taking the cart and walking out of the pop tarts isle, sneaking a box in for you.
“what’s left on the list?” you ask him, taking out a small snack you had in your purse and offering some to jude. “we need bananas, strawberries, orange juice, and meats for upcoming dinners…” jude reads the list one by one, using his index finger as he goes along.
you pass by an isle grabbing some cereal and granola for your yogurts and bowls. jude insisting he grabs his favorite too since you refuse to share from your part. as you wait by the deli section jude come behind you, grabbing your belly and relieving some of the pressure.
you immediately lay your head back on his shoulder sighing in relief, hearing jude chuckle and place a kiss on your head. “almost there darling,” he whispered running one of his hands along your tummy. “i know what you’re doing jude… and if this baby starts kicking right now i’ll leave you here,” you warn.
“i’m just trying to help you love. doesn’t it feel good?” he reprimanded as you nodded. “yes but not when she starts kicking, i swear she does it on purpose and it’s your fault. like she knows it you,” you said feeling your lower back less tense and heavy. "i kid you not, last night she almost made me pee from this hard kick!"
"sounds to me like we have a mini footballer coming into our lives," said jude continuing to hold your belly since you were tired and your baby was heavy. he had read the method online with other tips and tricks. jude got more into reading when he found out you were pregnant, wanting to know every effect and secret to ensure a healthy and safe pregnancy.
"let's hope not, i don't think i could handle cleaning up broken stuff around the house every day," you sigh, releasing yourself from his hold because you began to get hot. you didn’t understand how your body was so quick to adjust and then de-adjust from hot and cold, but it was so easy and it drove you mad sometimes.
“you okay?” jude softened his eyes as you let out a breath of despair, holding your hand and feeling a sit squeezed tightly against his. “yeah just got a mini cramp,” you held your back and practiced breathing methods you learned, “i’m good, i promise,” you kiss his hand before retrieving the meats from the butcher. "we'll get home soon, and i promise you a warm tea and massage okay?"
"did you want chocolate or strawberry milk?" jude held up the pint containers, "strawberry, we still have chocolate milk at home," you said, jude nodding as he quickly picked the orange juice and your favorite yogurts. "i was never a fan of sweet or flavored milk but these are soooo good," you exaggerated, jude smiling hard down at you.
"never a fan? these were my childhood as a kid! my mum used to buy these or the powder to make it ourselves," jude says recalling a old memory thinking of his babygirl. "you reckon she'll like them too?" jude spoke softly as he saw you give him a fast nod. if there was one thing loved it was discussing his babygirl. he was so anxious and wanted to meet her. the itch in his teeth getting bigger as every day passes.
to hold her while she slept, hug her to keep her warm, coddle her to sleep, feed her. he was ready for it all. he loved to shop and spoil her already. her carrier, crib, different books, toys, and stuffed animals like he had as a kid. she didn't know it yet, but she would be jude's second best friend. firstly you. always you.
they saw if one ever finds love at first sight, and jude definitely did with you. a smile so bright, eyes gleaming with happiness, a stranger who he fell madly with almost immediately after hearing her say hello. through ups and downs, you found your way to each other and since then, it's a love story for the movies. jude had his career blowing, a beautiful fiancee, and now a baby on the way. what more could he want?
as jude helped bag the groceries into the recycled bags you had, you paid and thanked the cashier whom you got close with on nights like these. asking how her day was, about her kids, anything special, always something to distract her. "you two have a safe night!" she yelled as you turned and thanked, wishing her a good night as well.
after you insisted on helping, you carried four light bags as jude carried most bags since he hated double trips. you guys quickly unpacked everything, longing and wishing to get into bed. you ensure the stove and other appliances are off, grabbing your tea and heading upstairs with jude.
"lay here for me," jude instructed, grabbing some cream and begging to smooth and massage out the muscles on your legs and shoulders. "after we have her, i promise i'll return every single thing you did for me while i was pregnant," you say struggled and full pleasure as the tension went away at jude's fingertips. "oh i'm fully expecting the injured boyfriend method again," jude teased as he finished up.
he grabbed a new book, laying on your side as you brushed and played with a few curls on his head, twirling them around your finger as he breathed softly. he looked so gentle and full of excitement like this, reading to your babygirl, who sensed her daddy's voice as she kicked. she knew, she always knew.
he applied your belly oil to prevent any stretch marks and kissed the small ones that formed along the way. jude cherished your body for carrying his baby in there, for being able to give and bring a new life into his and yours. you laid on your side, jude's chest connecting and fitting the crevasse on your back, holding your tummy as in a way to keep it safe.
you placed and locked hands with his, as jude wishing you a goodnight, peering kissed on your shoulders then finally lips, moaning in delight, a tiny groan leaving his lips. "i love you so much darling," he whispered, kissing your temple and snuggling into you more. "iloveyoutoojude," you said fast, with a playful smile on your lips as you felt a familiar sensation of a certain craving. "okay now i do want some pop tarts..."
"are you serious right now?"
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puckstories · 28 days ago
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Sweet Girl | Quinn Hughes
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Pairing; Dad!Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader
Warning(s); None I believe. Fluff, established relationship, pregnancy + birth (ish), only edited once
Summary; The three times Quinn spoke to your belly + the one time he spoke to your baby
Word Count; 5.5k
Author’s note; I love this fic so much, I might make it a universe since I'm a sucker for girl dads + I'm not ready to give baby Scar and Quinn up (: As usual, any thoughts + reblogs are appreciated. Thank you for all of the support! -Honey
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When you heard a knock on the door, and opened it to find a package from Amazon sitting on your doorstep, your first thought was that it must be for Quinn. It wasn’t unusual for him to order things online, especially when he was on the road and needed something shipped to the house. And though you often used his Prime account to order things for yourself too, this time you were sure you hadn’t ordered anything recently. You bent down to pick it up, the familiar brown box light in your hands as you brought it inside.
Glancing at the label, you furrowed your brow slightly. It had your name on it, but nothing about it gave you any clue what was inside. Shrugging it off, you left the package on the nightstand by Quinn's side of the bed, figuring it was something he'd ordered for himself, maybe some last-minute necessity he’d remembered while traveling.
The hours passed, and with the Canucks playing in Minnesota on another road game stint, you didn’t give much thought to the package sitting by the bed. It wasn’t until later that night, after the game, that you got a FaceTime call from Quinn. The familiar ping of your phone lit up the screen, and you smiled as his name appeared. You answered quickly, eager to see his face after missing him more than you'd care to admit.
“Hey,” you greeted, smiling softly when his face appeared on your screen. His hair was still damp from his postgame shower, strands falling messily over his forehead, and the sight of him looking relaxed in his hotel room after a win sent a warm feeling through your chest.
“Hey, baby,” Quinn replied, his voice soft, but with a touch of fatigue. You could tell he was still riding the post-game high, but the exhaustion of the season was starting to creep in.
You both spent a few minutes catching up—him telling you about the game, the energy in the arena, and you sharing small details about your day, filling in the little gaps left by his absence. The conversation flowed easily, like it always did, but then, as the conversation lulled, Quinn’s brow furrowed slightly, like he’d remembered something.
“Did you get the package?” he asked suddenly, his voice casual but with a hint of elation as he adjusted the phone, leaning back against the headboard of his hotel bed.
You blinked in surprise, momentarily confused. "Package?" you echoed, your mind flipping back to the brown box you’d left on the nightstand. "Oh, yeah! That came this morning. I wasn’t sure what it was, so I just left it on your side of the bed."
A small smile tugged at the corners of Quinn’s lips, but he shook his head, his eyes softening as he looked at you through the screen. "It’s not for me," he said, his voice a little lower, with that familiar warmth that always made your heart flutter. “It’s for you, for us. I ordered it.”
Surprise flickered across your face, and you shifted in your seat, suddenly curious. "Really?" Your heart gave a little skip. Quinn wasn’t one to make a big deal out of surprises, but when he did, they were always thoughtful, something that showed how much attention he paid to the little details of your life.
He nodded, a small grin pulling at his lips as he watched your reaction. "Yeah. Go open it," he urged, his voice playful now, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes.
A flutter of excitement bubbled up inside you as you stood up from the couch and padded into the bedroom, phone in hand, feeling suddenly giddy. You picked up the box from the nightstand, shaking it lightly, though it didn’t give away much about what was inside. Setting your phone down on the bed so Quinn could still see you, you grabbed the nearest pair of scissors and sat down on the plush comforter, carefully slicing through the tape, your curiosity growing with every second.
"Any hints?" you asked as you opened the flaps of the box, glancing up at the screen to see him smiling.
"Not a chance," he replied, his voice filled with that playful mischief that always made your heart skip. "You’ll see in a second."
Inside the package, nestled among the packing paper, is a small green-and-white box that immediately catches your eye. You pull it out, flipping it over in your hands to examine the front. The box is labeled "Bellybuds," and your brow furrows slightly in curiosity. You’ve never heard of it before, and the image of a pregnant woman with small adhesive speakers attached to her belly leaves you wondering what exactly this is.
You hold it up toward your phone, angling it so Quinn can see the box through the screen. "What is this?" you ask, amusement coloring your voice as you turn it over again, your fingers lightly tracing the packaging.
On the other side of the phone, Quinn's face lights up, a playful grin spreading across his lips. "It's headphones... for babygirl," he says, his voice warm and filled with excitement, like a child presenting their favorite toy. "We can talk to her, play music, and stuff. Thought it'd be nice for her to hear us more clearly."
A small laugh escapes your lips, the sound light against the stillness of the room, as you glance down at your baby bump, gently resting your free hand on the slight curve of your belly. You look back at the screen, shaking your head affectionately at him. "But we already talk to her all the time," you say with a smile, "do we really need these?"
Quinn shrugs a little, but there’s a certain softness in the way he does it, a sheepish look crossing his face. His grin doesn’t fade, though—if anything, it only deepens as he watches your reaction, his eyes bright with affection. "I figured it could be fun," he admits, his voice quieter now, the tone laced with a hint of vulnerability that tugs at your heart. "You know... just something special we can do. I thought maybe she’d like hearing music, or hearing us talk to her in a different way."
You feel a warmth bloom in your chest at his words, a gentle wave of affection washing over you. The thought of Quinn, so excited to connect with your unborn daughter, to create memories and bonds even before she arrives—it fills you with a deep sense of love for him. He’s always been thoughtful, but there’s something about this moment, something about the quiet sincerity in his voice, that makes your heart swell.
You lower the box slightly, your hand still resting on your belly as you glance down at it again. The idea of playing music for her, of letting her hear the rhythm of your favorite songs, or of Quinn’s voice as he talks to her when he’s away on trips, suddenly feels incredibly sweet and meaningful.
"You’re so sweet," you murmur, lifting your gaze back to him, your voice soft and filled with affection. "I didn’t even think of something like this. But I love it."
Quinn’s grin widens at your words, his eyes crinkling at the corners as a flush of pride washes over his face. "I’m glad," he says, his tone lighter now, clearly pleased with himself. "Figured it was something a little different. Plus, I can play her some good music while I’m gone. Gotta get her used to my playlists early," he adds with a chuckle.
A snort escapes you, as you shake your head. "Right, because I’m sure she’s going to love Counting Crows just as much as you do," you tease, your smile growing as you imagine him curating a playlist of all his favorite songs just for her.
"Hey, she’ll have great taste, thanks to me," he replies, feigning mock offense, but there’s a twinkle in his eyes that tells you he’s enjoying the playful banter as much as you are. "She’s gonna be the coolest kid around, trust me."
You roll your eyes with a grin, but your heart swells with warmth at the thought of the two of you already imagining what kind of music she’ll like, how she’ll react to the sounds of your voices. It makes everything feel more real, more tangible—like your little family is slowly but surely coming together.
You open the box carefully, pulling out the small circular speakers, running your fingers over the smooth surface. The adhesive pads are meant to stick to your belly, gently transmitting sound into your womb.
"You know," you begin, your gaze flickering back to the phone screen, "I think it’ll be really nice. She’ll get to hear your voice more often when you’re away for games... it’ll be like you’re still here, even when you’re not."
Quinn’s expression softens at that, his grin fading into something more tender, more intimate. "Yeah," he murmurs, his voice filled with a quiet warmth. "That’s exactly what I was hoping for. I hate being away, especially now. But this... I thought it could help. Like, she’ll know I’m still with you two, even when I’m on the road."
Your heart flutters at his words, and you can feel the emotions welling up inside you, your eyes watering as you look at him. The way he talks about your daughter, the way he’s so thoughtful and attentive to both of you, makes you fall in love with him even more. You bite your lip, a smile spreading across your face as you press your hand a little more firmly against your belly, feeling the weight of your daughter resting there.
"She’s going to love hearing your voice," you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. "And so will I."
1
"Hey there, sweet girl," Quinn’s voice is a low, soothing murmur, barely above a whisper, as he speaks into the microphone of his phone. "Daddy here," he adds softly, his tone filled with warmth and tenderness, like every word is wrapped in love.
He shifts carefully on the bed, moving slowly so as not to disturb you from your deep sleep. The dim light from his phone screen casts a soft glow over the room, the only sound being the quiet hum of the fan and the gentle rise and fall of your breath. Quinn settles back against the pillows, adjusting himself so he can be closer to you, his body leaning into your side.
His free hand reaches out, fingertips grazing the soft fabric of your tank top before gently coming to rest on the curve of your baby bump. His touch is light, reverent, like he’s afraid he might wake you if he presses too hard. But even in your sleep, the warmth of his hand resting on your belly sends a sense of comfort through you, as though even unconsciously, your body knows that he's there. His thumb starts moving in slow, gentle circles over your bump, a calming rhythm that has become second nature to him—his way of connecting with both of you.
His eyes soften as he gazes down at the swell of your stomach, where your baby girl is growing, nestled safely inside you. The sight still fills him with awe every time he sees it—the miracle of life forming between you both, the quiet anticipation of becoming a father. He leans closer, careful not to disturb the Bellybuds that are attached to your bump, the small adhesive pads delivering his voice directly to the baby through the connected cord in the phone.
"Just wanted to let you know how much I love you," he whispers softly, his voice low and full of affection. "Before I go to sleep tonight."
The corners of his lips twitch into a small smile as he speaks, his thumb continuing its gentle movements over your belly, tracing slow, lazy circles. He takes a deep breath, letting the moment wash over him. It’s something he’s done often lately—these quiet talks with your baby girl before bed. He knows she might not fully understand, but the thought of her possibly hearing his voice, growing familiar with the sound of her dad, fills him with a sense of happiness he can’t quite put into words.
"I had a long day, and I know you’re probably resting too," he continues, his voice steady but filled with a kind of quiet wonder. "But I couldn’t let the night end without saying goodnight." He leans forward just slightly, brushing a soft kiss against the top of your belly, the warmth of his lips barely touching your skin. "I can’t wait to meet you, sweet girl. Every day, I think about what it’s going to be like when you’re finally here with us."
There’s a pause as he glances up at you, still sound asleep beside him, your breathing steady and peaceful. The room feels still, but in a way that makes everything feel more intimate, more present. His eyes flicker back down to your belly, the small life growing inside, and he feels the overwhelming sense of love flood him once again—an emotion so strong it almost takes his breath away.
"I promise I’ll always take care of you," Quinn whispers into the microphone, his voice dropping even lower, as though he’s sharing a secret just between him and his daughter. "And your mom, too. We’re a team, the three of us. And I’m gonna do my best to make sure you have everything you need, to keep you safe, and to love you more than anything in this world."
His hand moves slightly, his palm now resting flat against the curve of your belly, feeling the faint, subtle movements beneath. Sometimes, when the timing is right, he can feel her respond, little kicks or shifts, as though she knows he’s there. It’s in those moments that the reality of fatherhood feels most real to him, the little reminders that soon, she’ll be here in his arms.
"You’re already so loved, you know that?" he murmurs, his voice soft and tender as he speaks into the microphone, his gaze never leaving your bump. "Your mom and I... we talk about you all the time. What you’ll be like, what you’ll look like. I think you’re going to be perfect. And I can’t wait to see who you become."
The weight of his words lingers in the air, and Quinn takes another breath, feeling the warmth of your body beside him, the closeness of your shared space. He glances back at you, his heart swelling with affection as he takes in the peaceful look on your face, the way you look so serene in your sleep. He leans over, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, his lips brushing lightly against your skin.
"I’m so lucky to have you," he whispers, his voice barely audible, meant only for your sleeping ears. "Both of you."
For a long moment, Quinn just lays there, his hand resting protectively over your belly, his heart full of so much love he can barely contain it. He thinks about the future—the late-night feedings, the first steps, the endless love he’s ready to give to both you and your daughter. It all feels so real, so close, and he can’t help but feel grateful for everything you’ve built together.
After a few more moments of quiet, he shifts slightly, letting out a soft sigh as his hand lingers on your bump one last time. "Goodnight, sweet girl," he whispers softly into the microphone, his voice full of tenderness and love. "I’ll see you soon."
2
"Hey there, sweet girl, Daddy here." Quinn speaks into the microphone of his phone, the sound laced with a soft chuckle as he follows you around the kitchen, making sure the Bellybuds stay securely attached to your baby bump. Every step you take, he mirrors, careful not to let the wires tangle or the pads come loose.
You roll your eyes but can’t hide the smile that tugs at your lips as you shuffle around the counter. "Quinn, I’m trying to cook," you say, your tone a mix of amusement and exasperation as you glance over your shoulder at him.
"It’s not my fault Mommy got out of bed before I could say good morning, right, sweet girl?" His grin widens as he speaks into the phone, leaning in slightly as though your daughter, nestled safely in your belly, can hear him more clearly that way. There’s a lightness in his voice, full of the kind of joy that comes naturally when he’s talking to your unborn child—like he’s already practicing the loving banter he’ll share with her once she’s here.
You shake your head, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you move back to the stove, carefully flipping the strips of bacon sizzling in the pan. The kitchen is cozy, the rich, savory smell of breakfast filling the air, mingling with the faint scent of coffee brewing on the counter. Sunlight streams in through the windows, casting a golden glow across the countertops, and the whole scene feels peaceful, wrapped in the simple comfort of a Saturday morning.
Quinn trails behind you, keeping close, the ever-present grin still on his face. His eyes are filled with that familiar playful glint, the one that tells you he’s not taking any of this too seriously—but at the same time, you know just how much these moments mean to him. He takes every chance he can get to bond with your little one, to talk to her, even if it’s just silly things or affectionate words whispered against your belly. It’s something you’ve grown to love even more about him during this pregnancy—how committed he is to being present, even before she’s here.
You shuffle across the kitchen to grab a plate for the bacon, and as you do, Quinn follows closely behind, adjusting the Bellybuds’ cord as you move. You shoot him another glance, one eyebrow raised, even as a smile pulls at the corner of your lips. "Shouldn’t you be getting ready for morning skate?" you ask, your tone teasing as you gesture vaguely toward the clock on the wall.
Quinn shrugs, leaning casually against the counter, his hand resting on your bump for just a moment before he drops it back to his side. "Nah," he says with a playful smirk, "I’ve got a few minutes. Besides, what’s more important—hockey or talking to my daughter?" His eyes sparkle with mischief as he shifts his focus back to your belly, speaking directly into the microphone. "See, sweet girl? Daddy has his priorities straight. Morning skate can wait."
You let out another huff of amusement, shaking your head as you plate the crispy bacon. "Priorities, huh?" You glance at him, a soft smile dancing on your lips. "I’ll remember that the next time you’re in the playoffs."
He laughs, the sound rich and easy, and steps closer, his arms wrapping loosely around your waist from behind, careful not to disrupt your cooking. You feel the warmth of his chest press against your back, the familiar weight of his body comforting as he leans his chin gently on your shoulder, peeking around to watch you cook. His hand slides down, resting protectively over your bump, his fingers splayed across your belly as if he’s trying to feel every little movement she might make.
"I promise," he murmurs, his voice softer now, his lips brushing your ear, "she’ll always come first. Even during playoffs."
The sincerity in his voice makes your heart flutter, and for a moment, you pause in your task, turning your head just enough to catch his gaze. There’s a softness in his eyes, that quiet kind of love that’s always been there, but seems to have grown even deeper during this pregnancy. You lean back into him slightly, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath against your back, and for a brief moment, everything feels perfectly still.
"I know," you murmur, your hand resting on top of his as it cradles your belly.
The moment stretches on for a beat longer, before Quinn presses a soft kiss to your temple, then pulls back with a playful grin. "But seriously," he adds, "we can’t have her growing up thinking she's not the light of my life."
You laugh, the sound bright and easy as you turn back to the stove, flipping the eggs that are now starting to sizzle in the pan. "No, we definitely can’t have that." You agree, amused.
Quinn leans against the counter, still keeping a close eye on you as you move around the kitchen, his eyes occasionally flicking down to your belly. He’s quiet for a moment, just watching, but there’s a soft smile playing on his lips.
"Besides, I think she’s already going to have pretty high expectations for you," you say, glancing at him with a smile as you finish cooking, setting the eggs and bacon on the table. "Talking to her every day, following me around like a puppy..."
He shrugs again, not even trying to hide the grin this time. "Hey, I’ve got to make sure she knows she’s got the best dad in the world, right?"
You shake your head, laughing as you move toward him, your arms wrapping loosely around his neck as he pulls you close. "I think she’s going to know that no matter what," you say softly, your eyes meeting his, your fingers gently playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.
He leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, the kind that’s full of love and gratitude, the kind that says more than words ever could. "I love you," he murmurs against your lips, his voice soft but full of warmth.
"I love you too," you whisper back, your hand resting over his heart, feeling the steady beat beneath your palm. You glance down at your belly, where the Bellybuds are still securely attached, and grab his phone from his hand, bringing the microphone to your lips. "And I know you love daddy too, right sweet girl?"
3
"Hey there, sweet girl, Daddy here," Quinn whispers softly into the microphone, his voice a murmur in the stillness of the night. The house around you is silent, save for the faint rustling of the trees outside the window and the gentle sound of your breathing as you sleep peacefully beside him. The soft glow from the bedside lamp casts a warm, golden light over the room, wrapping the two of you in a cocoon of comfort.
Carefully, Quinn adjusts the Bellybuds, making sure the small adhesive speakers are securely attached to your growing belly, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin as he does. Once satisfied that everything is in place, he leans back against the pillows, settling himself beside you and letting out a quiet, contented sigh.
"You're due to come see me and Mommy very soon," he begins. His free hand moves to rest gently on your belly, the warmth of his palm spreading across your skin as his thumb traces slow, soothing circles over the curve of your bump. "And we're so excited to finally meet you."
The smile on his face widens as he speaks the words aloud, the reality of it sinking in more and more with every passing day. His heart swells with emotion, a mixture of excitement and nerves at the thought of holding his daughter in his arms for the first time. He’s imagined it a thousand times already—what it will feel like, what she’ll look like—and yet, he knows nothing can truly prepare him for the moment when she finally arrives.
"We have your nursery all set up," he continues, his voice full of pride. "Mommy picked out the prettiest colors and decorations. And she bought you so many cute outfits... I know you’ll be just adorable." His words are filled with affection as he thinks about the hours you spent meticulously planning and decorating the nursery. He remembers the way your eyes lit up with excitement every time a new package arrived at the door—tiny clothes, soft blankets, little shoes too small to seem real.
Quinn chuckles softly to himself, his thumb still moving in slow circles over your belly. "I can already picture you wearing those little onesies. Mommy’s got good taste," he says with a grin, though his voice softens as he adds, "You’re going to be the most beautiful girl in the world, and I can’t wait to see you."
The room falls into a comfortable silence for a moment, the weight of his words hanging in the air. His gaze drifts back to you, watching as you shift slightly in your sleep, snuggling deeper into the blankets. He loves these quiet moments with you, when the world feels small and the love he has for you and your growing family feels like the only thing that matters.
"You're our first, sweet girl," he murmurs, his voice dropping even lower, as if he's sharing a secret meant just for her. His thumb continues its rhythmic motion on your belly, grounding him in the moment, the connection between the three of you palpable. "So Mommy and I... we might not be perfect. We’ll probably make mistakes, and we’re still learning. But I promise you, we’ll always try our best for you."
The sincerity in his words hangs in the air, a promise that he knows will shape the rest of his life. Fatherhood is something he’s thought about for so long, and now that it’s just around the corner, the weight of it feels both exhilarating and humbling. He knows there will be challenges, sleepless nights, moments of doubt—but he also knows that the love he feels for you and your daughter will guide him through it all. It already has.
"Daddy loves you," he whispers softly into the microphone, his voice filled with all the love and devotion he can possibly give. "So much. And I can’t wait to show you just how much when you get here." He leans down then, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your belly, his lips warm against your skin.
+1
Scarlett Eloise Hughes was born on July 2nd, arriving into the world at seven pounds, four ounces, with the tiniest tuft of brown hair and the clearest green eyes you’d ever seen. From the moment you heard her first cry, a quiet, delicate sound that filled the room, your heart swelled with a love so overwhelming, it felt like nothing else existed beyond that moment. Time seemed to slow as the nurses moved around you, murmuring their congratulations as they swiftly began their work.
The delivery couldn’t have gone smoother. It was as if Scarlett herself had been eager to meet you and Quinn, arriving just two hours after you checked into the hospital. Your contractions had come on strong that morning, starting as a dull ache and quickly intensifying until you knew it was time.
But even considering the relative ease of it all, you were exhausted—utterly spent in the best possible way. The rush of adrenaline from labor, the flood of emotions that came with bringing new life into the world, had left you physically and emotionally drained, but also more fulfilled than ever before.
You watched through hazy eyes as Quinn, who had been by your side every second, stepped forward to cut Scarlett’s umbilical cord. The nurse handed him the scissors, and though his hand trembled slightly, his face was full of awe. You could see the tears glistening in his eyes as he gently snipped the cord, his jaw clenching as he tried to keep his emotions in check. It was such a simple act, but in that moment, it felt monumental—like a bridge between pregnancy and the start of your new lives as parents.
Once the nurses had gently taken Scarlett away to clean her off, weigh her, and perform the routine newborn checks, the room felt quiet, almost surreal. You lay back against the pillows, your body heavy with fatigue but your heart full of love. Every so often, you could hear the soft sound of Scarlett’s tiny cries as they swaddled her in a warm blanket and placed her in the bassinet.
Then, at last, they brought her over to you.
The moment they placed her in your arms, everything else melted away. Scarlett was so small, so delicate, her skin still slightly flushed from the effort of being born. Her tiny fingers curled reflexively into a fist, her eyes blinking up at you as though she were trying to focus on the face she had yet to fully see but already knew so well. The warmth of her little body pressed against yours made your chest tighten with emotion, and as you gazed down at her, you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes.
"Hi, Scarlett," you whispered softly, your voice thick with emotion as you leaned your forehead against hers for just a moment, taking in her scent, that unmistakable newborn smell that was somehow both sweet and comforting. "We’ve been waiting for you."
Scarlett blinked again, her tiny lips parting slightly as she made a soft cooing sound, and in that moment, it was as though your entire world had shifted. Every hope, every dream, every little piece of your life had led to this—this beautiful, perfect baby girl in your arms.
You shifted her gently, positioning her so you could nurse her for the first time. Her tiny mouth latched onto your breast instinctively, and the sensation was both strange and wonderful all at once.
It was breathtaking moment, just you and her, connected in a way that felt profound to you. You could feel her little body relax against yours as she fed, her breathing evening out, her tiny fingers resting against your chest.
Tears filled your eyes again, and you glanced over at Quinn, who stood watching silently. His eyes held a mix of emotions—joy, admiration, and a deep, unwavering love. He hadn’t stopped smiling since the moment she was born, but now, watching you nurse Scarlett, that smile softened into something more tender, more meaningful.
Once Scarlett finished feeding, you gently lifted her and cradled her close to your chest, marveling at how perfectly she fit into your arms, like she was meant to be there all along. After a few moments, you met Quinn’s gaze and smiled softly.
"You're up next, daddy." you say, your voice barely above a whisper.
Quinn nodded, his throat visibly working as he tried to suppress the wave of emotion threatening to overcome him, though you could see the eagerness in his eyes.
"Take off your shirt," you added, remembering the advice about skin-to-skin contact. You wanted him to experience that bond, the warmth of her small body against his, just as you had.
Without hesitation, Quinn pulled off his shirt, tossing it onto the nearby chair. He stepped closer, his movements careful and measured, as though he were afraid of disturbing the fragile moment. Gently, you passed Scarlett into his arms, watching as he settled into the chair beside your hospital bed.
The second Scarlett was in his arms, her little body resting against his bare chest, something changed in Quinn. His entire posture softened, his shoulders relaxing as if every ounce of tension had melted away. He held her with the utmost care, his large hands supporting her tiny head, his thumb brushing gently across her back as she nestled against him.
"Hey there, sweet girl," Quinn whispered, his voice cracking slightly as he gazed down at her in awe. "Daddy here."
Scarlett’s small hand flexed against his chest, and Quinn let out a shaky breath, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He leaned his head down slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head, his lips lingering there as though he couldn’t bear to pull away.
The sight of them together—the love radiating from Quinn, the peaceful way Scarlett settled into his arms—filled you with an overwhelming sense of gratitude and happiness. This was your family now. The three of you, together, bound by the deepest kind of love.
Quinn rocked gently in the chair, his eyes never leaving Scarlett’s face, as though he were committing every detail of this moment to memory. "You’re so beautiful," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I love you so much. You have no idea."
Tears slipped down your cheeks as you watched them, your heart full to bursting. This was everything you had hoped for and more—a moment of pure, unfiltered love. "She’s perfect," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.
Quinn glanced up at you, his eyes shining with tears of his own. "Yeah, she really is."
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mintmatcha · 2 months ago
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In the future when they meet again, does sero ever find a way to make amends? Does he explain what he was going through?
He enters the room with your name on his lips.
You still push up your glasses the same way you always did - your palms on the bottom of the frames- and Sero kicks himself for not seeing it earlier. You've changed, of course. Ten years have passed, but your eyes are the same. The downward curve of your lips and the round of your nose: it's all unmistakably you. When you push away from your desk, it's with a confidence you never had back then, and it almost makes him smile.
"Who told you it was me?" you ask. "Eijiro?"
"No," he says. "I remembered all on my own."
It's only a half lie. Bakugo had called you Cram School and the memories had flooded back. The late night anime sessions, the whispered confessions-
The way he ghosted out of your life without warning.
"What do you want, Sero?" you sigh. "How did you even find me?"
Sero had called for a couple favors to track you down. Luckily, you worked with Uraraka's organization now, as a therapist. All those nights at cram school really did work out; you're a doctor, apparently.
"I just-" He breathes in to center himself, hands jammed in his pockets. "I wanted to say I'm sorry. For just--"
"Leaving me?"
"Yeah." The takes that blow in stride, despite the sting. "For disappearing on you."
"Okay." You lean back in your chair, legs crossed. "I don't forgive you."
"Good. Right. Yeah." That hurts worse. "You shouldn't."
You sit there, hands folded, in silence, watching from over your glasses in silence. He wonders when you got so serious, how you lost that sparkle in your eye. Then, he wonders if he even has the right to know.
"I was a fucked up kid, I was going through a lot." Sero steps forward. "My dad was really -"
You interject. "Sorry, I don't offer therapy for anyone over the age of eighteen. Try Dr. Yun down the hall."
Fuck. God, you're witty. You always manage to steal the wind from his sails with a single cut.
"I'm not trying to-" He huffs, trying to remember to advice his actual therapist gave him. "I just want things to be right between us."
"To make yourself feel better?"
"No, because it's the right thing to do when you hurt someone."
This time, you're the one left silent. Your expression goes softer, wider, like you're genuinely surprised.
"I don't need you to forgive me. I don't think you should forgive me," Sero says. "I just want you to be okay."
He takes a half step in, then a full. Then you don't kick him out, he goes directly to your desk.
"Here. I got this for you. Back in high school." He places a little box in front of you, its label faded and partially ripped from time. "I messed up before I had the chance to give it to you."
It takes you a moment to process what's in front of you. It's a little pink figure, maybe a little less than pristine, but still standing there, arms splayed. The sure look on your face starts to drift, falling down, down-
"She's your favorite, right?" Sero urges.
Your expression doesn't get better. No, you look seasick, your legs suddenly untucked and your arms gripping your stomach.
"She's-" he falters. "You like Flora, I thought, was I-?"
"Get out of my office." Your voice is softer now too, closer to what he remembers.
"I thought you'd like it."
"Get out."
He backs up a step, hoping you'll change your mind. When you don't, he retreats down the hall, unsure of whether he did something right or not.
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saetoru · 1 year ago
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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。SPRING — NANAMI KENTO.
contents. domesticity with nanami after moving in together. aka brushing your teeth. aka staring at him shamelessly as he does mundane tasks. (me writing someone other than gojo or geto ???? whatttttt :O)
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it doesn’t hit you that you and kento now live together until the the morning after the first night.
it’s spring. there are flowers you want to keep in your balcony sitting in your living room, the box labeled dishes is half empty from only what you took out for dinner, and you aren’t quite sure where your clothing box is because you forgot to label it. but kento is handsome next to you in the bathroom, shirtless as he brushes his teeth.
there are two sinks—one for you and one for him, but you opt for brushing your hip against his and sharing one. he doesn’t say anything, just scoots a little to the side and rinses his mouth as he makes room for you.
“please stop staring,” he mumbles tiredly, “it’s getting awkward.”
“you look handsome,” you pout, “i can’t admire you?”
“i’m brushing my teeth,” he deadpans.
“yes, a very handsome sight. i love seeing your care for dental hygiene.”
kento sighs, grabbing the small towel from the side and patting his face dry as you lean down and spit, rinsing your own mouth and plopping your toothbrush back in place. next to his.
and your face wash is beside his too, and so is your shampoo and body wash in the shower. you step to the side, bumping hips with him again as you grin—it’s ecstatic, the expression on your face.
“kento, i just realized something,” you murmur, leaning to press a kiss to his jaw. it’s smooth, the feeling of his skin under your lips—you watched him shave earlier, sat on the counter and swung your legs as he carefully ran the razor along his skin.
“and what’s that?” he asks, patting your face with the towel, gently wiping away the droplets of water with extra care.
“we live together now—and i can watch you brush your teeth every day,” you grin.
“we shared a bed last night,” he raises a brow, “i’m sure you realized a bit before this that we now share a living space.”
wrong.
your home isn’t put together yet—you couldn’t find your pajamas last night, so you wear kento’s. the coffee machine still hasn’t been taken out and plugged in yet, and breakfast is currently limited to cereal and fruit that doesn’t need to be cut until the kitchen utensils have been organized. your couch hasn’t arrived yet, and your bed is currently just a mattress on the floor until the bed frame is delivered.
it doesn’t really dawn on you that you and kento are living together until you wake up with his chest under your cheek and his breath fanning against your forehead. sure, you and kento have spent nights at each other’s apartments—but that always results in one rising before the other to leave early and make up for the extra distance in the commute to work.
today, however, you and kento are home together. it’s spring—you can hear cicadas calling and see the buds blooming in the plants outside. there are flowers waiting to be potted in your balcony, and fresh strawberries of the season waiting for you in the kitchen.
and when you watch kento take his time and brush his teeth, hip accidentally bumping against yours as he leans down to rinse his mouth, you realize your home is with kento now.
you grin, wrapping your arms around his neck, “well, we’ve shared a bed before,” you kiss delicately at the slant of his jaw again, “but i’ve never seen you shirtless and brushing your teeth.”
“this new obsession is scaring me,” he mumbles, “what’s so special about me brushing my teeth?”
“oh, kento,” you grin, warm and bright and as fresh as the first breeze of spring, “it’s certainly a sight. you just have to see it.”
he hums, shaking his head gently as he chuckles in that soft, calm little way that he does. his arms find your waist.
your bathroom, even with missing shower curtains, feels like it’s always been yours. it feels natural, living with kento, it feels natural sharing a towel to wipe your face and leaving the door unlocked for the other to come in as you prepare for the morning.
“i have my own sight,” he murmurs, tracing your cheek as his hand cups your face, “you look lovely when you drool in your sleep.”
“kento,” you whine with a pout, “don’t watch me sleep.”
“how could i not?” he grins, brown eyes bordering on hazel as they brighten, “it’s the best new part of my mornings.”
he kisses you there, in the bathroom you still have to finish setting up, the tiles cool beneath your feet and his lips warm against your mouth.
it’s spring when you move in with kento—and you have a newfound appreciation for the season.
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guess who wants to brush her teeth in the mornings with nanamin. it might be me. it might be my undying need for domesticity. it might be my deep desire to witness him spit. it might be both. i haven’t decided yet
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mattsfavouritewhore · 25 days ago
Text
Just a dream - chris sturniolo
Summary: A bad dream opened your eyes to what could be a harsh wake up call.
The soft hum of the ceiling fan filled the quiet bedroom as you stirred under the covers. Chris's arm was draped loosely over your waist, his even breathing a comforting rhythm against the uncertainty brewing in your chest. You’d always told yourself you were fine with this—this undefined “situationship” where you acted like a couple without the label—but last night’s dream had shaken that fragile resolve.
The dream had felt so real. Chris, smiling in a photo with another girl, his arm slung casually over her shoulders. No warning, no explanation, just him moving on like what you two had meant nothing. The pit in your stomach deepened, bile rising to your throat as the memory of the dream replayed. Next to him, everything felt off, abnormal, like the balance had shifted.
You turned onto your side, careful not to wake him, and stared at his peaceful face. The sight of him—the small crinkle of his brows even in sleep, the way his lips parted slightly as he breathed—usually brought comfort. But now, it only made the ache in your chest worse.
Chris stirred beside you, his lashes fluttering open as he turned toward you. "Babe?" His voice was rough with sleep, but his eyes quickly sharpened when they landed on your tear-streaked face. "What’s wrong? Are you okay?"
You hesitated, swallowing hard, debating whether to tell him. But the dream had left its mark..
“I had a dream about you…It… it made me feel sick."
His face softened immediately, his brows knitting together in concern. "Hey, hey, come here." He reached out, pulling you into his chest, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.
“I know it was just a dream,” you replied, your voice trembling. “But it felt so real.. you got a girlfriend. You didn’t even tell me"
His eyes softened, but he looked taken aback. “Babe, it was just a dream... You know that, right?" almost as if he was making sure you knew.. even though you had just told him you knew it was a dream.
You nodded against him but couldn’t shake the weight pressing down on you. "But it… it felt real. Like it could happen..And the worst part is… it’s something you could do. We’re not even official, Chris. What if one day you just decide I’m not enough?” Your voice cracked, and you pulled away to look at him.
His face fell, guilt flashing in his eyes as he sat up. He ran a hand through his messy hair, clearly at a loss for words. “I didn’t realize you felt this way,” he said quietly.
You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, feeling exposed. “I didn’t either, until last night... You’re scared of commitment, Chris, i get that.. but What if you just… decide one day that this isn’t enough for you?"
His eyes darkened, guilt flashing across his face. He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. "I… I’m sorry I’ve made you feel that way. I’ve been so scared of putting a label on us because I didn’t want to mess things up. But I’m realizing now that not committing is hurting you more than I ever wanted."
The rest of the morning passed in a haze. Chris stayed by your side, but there was a heaviness in the air. When he eventually left, saying he needed to clear his head, you couldn’t shake the hollow feeling inside you. You spent the day replaying the dream and your conversation, The thought of losing him—of someone else taking your place- The thought of him slipping away felt unbearable. The words, they gave you a sliver of hope, but the anxiety lingered.
by the time evening rolled around, you were curled up on the couch, staring blankly at the TV. A soft knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. When you opened it, there he stood, a bouquet of your favourite flowers in one hand and a box of chocolates in the other. His face was earnest, nervous even.
“Hey,” he said softly, his expression a mix of nervousness and determination. “Can I come in?”
You nodded, stepping aside to let him in. He set the flowers and chocolates on the coffee table before turning to face you.
“I’ve been an idiot,” he began, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “I’ve been scared—scared of commitment, scared of messing things up. But losing you… the thought of you not being in my life is even scarier.... I… I’ve been thinking about what you said. About us. And I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re not enough or like I’d replace you. I’m terrified of screwing this up, but I’d rather try and fail than lose you because I was too scared to commit."
Your breath hitched as his words sank in. He took your hands in his, his grip firm and reassuring.
“I don’t want to be with anyone else,” he continued. “I want this—us. Officially.”
Your heart thudded painfully in your chest, and you blinked back fresh tears. "Are you sure, Chris?"
He nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.” He stepped closer, gently cupping your face in his hands. "I’m sure about you. I’ve always been sure about you."
A watery laugh escaped your lips, and you nodded. "Okay." throwing your arms around him. He held you tightly, as if he never wanted to let go.
Chris grinned, relief flooding his face as he leaned down to press a tender kiss to your lips. In that moment, the dream melted away, replaced by the warmth of his touch and the promise of something real. The rest of the night was a blur of soft kisses, whispered promises, and the sweet realisation that you no longer had to wonder where you stood. Chris was yours, and you were his—no more doubts, no more fears. Just the two of you, together.
a/n: i feel like this sucks...
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shotmrmiller · 5 months ago
Text
when the video on your phone freezes for a heartbeat, just a fraction of a second, you're jolted back to reality.
and then it begins to vibrate in your hand. you stare at the screen, eyes squinting against the unforgiving glow that pierces the darkness you're enveloped in. (had been, anyway.)
in the corner of it says 2:03 am. witching hour. when the world holds its breath. everyone except for him. as always.
the same man who couldn't fit you into his meticulously curated world for longer than a night; a world where emotions were ruthlessly shoved into a cardboard box and labeled non-essential. (yet dogs you endlessly.)
the phone continues to ring, vibration buzzing like a mosquito in your ear. you run through your very limited options. ignore it and you'll have to suffer with him having nothing better to do than cause you to lose sleep because you need the alarm to go off in the morning or pick up and let him prod at old wounds with his gloved fingers.
(fingers you wish were curling inside you again, pad of his thumb rubbing on your aching-)
this isn't the first time he's disrupted your peace using an unknown number and it isn't the first time you answer despite knowing you shouldn't.
maybe in another life you'll have better self control.
(your masturbation session will have to wait.)
before you even get a word out, he's already cutting you off. "pet. didn't wake ya, did i?"
insufferable fucking man. "you know what time it is. what do you want, Simon? here i thought blocking both your number and johnny's would get the point across." you hope your tone conveys the weariness better on his end than it did on yours.
he merely hums, a disinterested noise that ripples through the phone. you're tempted to hang up but you know the script. he'll just call. again. and again. and again.
"were ya watchin' our video again?" heat spreads up from your neck to the soft of your cheeks. there's no way he knew what you were doing before picking up. pure mortifying happenstance.
"i was." a tight breath warms the inner side of your wrist. he's always been a straight shooter which on him is both a strength and a flaw, and right now, with the way his voice carries over the phone, it's your weakness. good thing he's not here to notice the way you squeeze your thighs together.
"'nd it got me to thinkin' on how sweet you'd been then, bleary eyed 'nd pliant beneath me," your lower stomach burns white-hot, knowing the exact type of filth he likes to talk when he's in this kind of mood, "how thin i had your pussy stretched 'round me."
your core pulses at the memory of him resting against the firm seal of your womb, his work-worn palm pressing your stomach, as if trying to feel himself from the outside. (maybe he could, maybe he couldn't, you wouldn't know. not when he had you sitting on his lap as his own personal cock sleeve for longer than you deemed necessary. you'd been incoherent then.)
with liquid heat flowing through your veins, prickling at your fingertips, burning behind your eyelids, doing what he says next had never been easier.
"take your shorts off 'touch tha' pretty pussy f'me."
(you'd disconnected all the cameras in your room except for the one you didn't know was there. he's gotta keep a sharp eye on what's his, yknow? of course not, how could you? as far as you're concerned, he's just coincidentally calling when your hand is weaving downward to rub the little bundle of nerves between your legs with a home video he'd recorded of him fucking you stupid one tipsy night playing on your phone.)
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moonstruckme · 2 months ago
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Congrats on 8k!!! You deserve all the love and more <3 also the holiday/winter theme is so so so cute!! Literally cannot even begin to describe how much I adore you and your talent and the fact that you give back and share your wonderful writing with us makes me so unbelievably happy <3
Can I request a hot cocoa drabble with Remus and the prompt wrapping paper from the 2nd list? Much love to you!! And congratulations again!!
I adore you! Ty for requesting angel <3
Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 653 words
You watch out of the corner of your eye as Remus carefully folds the wrapping paper over itself, lining the triangle up against the side of his box. He curses. 
You giggle. “How are you so regimented and so bad at this?” 
“Hush.” He rolls his eyes, reaching across you for the tape. “It’s fine.” 
“The label is showing,” you say, trying to be gentle but only hitting amused. “You can’t leave it like that, she’s gonna know what it is.” 
“I’ll cut a square of wrapping paper to cover that part.” 
“Another patch job?” You shake your head at him, grinning. “Rem, I can’t let you bring these to the function. They’re an embarrassment.” 
“The function,” says Remus, cutting through the wrapping paper with a pointed slice, “is already going to have gifts wrapped by James, which always look like he’s let Harry do them, and Sirius is most likely going to bring his in bags. I guarantee ours won’t be the worst there.” 
“It’s just a little embarrassing,” you murmur, really only teasing him. You start folding a ribbon into gentle curves on the top of your box. “I thought I had this really competent boyfriend, but…” 
“Didn’t I tell you to hush?” Remus asks, but his laughter betrays him. The light from your tree smoothes out the lines of his face, his eyes warm and glittering and lashes kissing at the corners. You wish suddenly that you had a camera on hand, but there’s no chance film could capture how perfectly happy he looks.
Remus smooths tape over his patch of wrapping paper with swift, vaguely menacing movements. “I’ll have you know, I am very competent,” he says. 
“It’s gonna take a knife to open that with all the tape on it,” you observe solemnly.
“I am very competent,” he repeats, and you suck in a breath when he locks his hands around your ankles, dragging you to him with one swift motion. You can forget how strong Remus is, sometimes. He’s not very physical usually, but you’ve riled him into playfulness. “You ask Lily tomorrow who the most competent man in her home is, and you get back to me on what she says, yeah?” 
“Well,” you’re giggling, caught under his stern gaze and bubbling with giddy anticipation, “if you limit it to the men, the bar can’t be very high. Lily and I are more competent than the three of you.” 
“How do you figure?” 
“You can look at my gifts, for starters.” 
Remus has an excellent poker face. He squeezes your calf at the jab, and your nervous giggling intensifies. “We’ll see how you feel about your competence when you make your own tea tomorrow.” 
“No wait! Wait.” You get into his lap, trying your hardest to school your features into some sort of contrition. Smooth your hands up and down his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I love you. Have I told you I love you lately?” 
“Not without ulterior motive,” Remus says drily. 
Your lips turn down in a real frown. “That’s not true.” 
“No.” He rolls his eyes, grunting as he pulls you further up his lap. “It’s not, lovely. What, you’re the only one who gets to tease?” 
“Mhm,” you hum, teasing. 
Remus chuffs like you’re something else, but his lips touching to your nose are gentle. “So what if I’m not the best at wrapping? You can’t make your own tea.” 
“I can…it’s just not as good as when you do it.” 
“Some could argue that’s a much more everyday sort of competence, dove.” 
You make a quiet scoff of protest, not very convincing. Remus smiles. His hands stroke your sides. 
“So. We’re going to put my gifts under James and Lily’s tree without complaint, hm?” 
You feel your nose wrinkle. “Without any complaint? I feel like some damage control is necessary.” 
“Remember your tea.” 
You sigh, rolling your eyes. “Right. No complaints here.”
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simpee9000 · 6 months ago
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Not Just Friends - 4 -
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M.List : Prologue : Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Not edited : 3.8k words
Childhood best friends turned into something more, at least with the label. Katsuki Bakugo, a fast-rising hero and fast-learning guy who is ever so slow in getting attached to and loving someone. Even three long years into a relationship, and your friends even forget you're even dating. Nothing happening, spare a few kisses.. like 3 kisses, during high school. Graduated and living together, and you guys have done absolutely nothing to further the relationship. Are you sure you're not just friends? CW: Smut, brief domestic violence discussion, virginity loss, aggressive flirting from creeps, gore with pro hero stuff (lmk if i missed any) Applies to all chapters regardless of it is in said chapter.
You've spent the past week working through Katsuki's watch. Only putting it down when handed a time restricted request for a support item fix. Testing the quirk removing feature on Mei and a few others around. Since you couldn't remove your own, at least you wouldn't realize until a week or so.
Once all the kinks were worked out, you placed it in a nice sleek black watch box. Tying it closed with a burnt orange ribbon. You were giving it to him as a gift, just like all the other watches you've given him in the past. This one just a lot more expensive and fully designed by you.
It was already Friday by the time the watch was done, completing two days before you said you would.
Friday's were also the days that Katsuki worked at his own agency a couple blocks away. So after getting a cab to his agency, you walked through the door. Instantly being recognized by the security team for the office and being allowed through with only a quick screening, just in case someone was pretending to be you. You smiled at the receptionist, giving a quick wave before you headed to the elevator.
After pushing in the button for the top floor, the floor that only held him and his closest heroes, you opened your phone to check the time. It was right before his lunch started, which meant he would likely be getting out of the showers. He always took a shower after first patrol and once getting home.
The task of looking at your phone made you think of making yourself a watch, maybe with a support item for yourself incase within. Break-ins for support items were getting a lot more common now days and you couldn't be safe enough. With nanotechnology you could probably make an upgraded suit to the one you've made in high school, that shared many similarities to Iron-man's.
Before you could ramble in your own brain about the idea anymore, you reached Katsuki's floor. Stepping out of the elevator and greeting his manger who was sitting just outside Katsuki's office in his own desk.
"How's your day so far, Tanaka?" you smiled at him.
He looked up at you, "I work with Dynamight," he said plainly and looked back down to his monitor. He reminded you of Shoto that way. Blunt and straight to the point.
You laughed lightly, "Right, he can be a lot." You looked around the office for a moment, "I'm assuming he is still in the showers."
"You'd be correct," his monotone voice would of made you feel stupid if you didn't know him. He's always like this, never changing his tone. He was always one steady mood, it's the main reason Katsuki chose him. Tanaka wouldn't get upset, but rather not take no as an answer. Which Katsuki hated but needed at the same time. It helped his press a lot.
You rocked on your heels for a moment, "Well, I'm going to wait in his office."
"Wait," he paused you, his face slightly paled. He looked stressed.
"What?"
"He told me not to let you in there without him," he answered, face back to normal without the threat of you going in the office.
Your brows furrowed, "Why?"
He shrugged, "Just made it clear to not let you in."
"Okay?" you stood confused on what to do. Kirishima wasn't in the office yet, and neither was Denki or Sero. It was the main reason Katsuki had lunch at this time. "Do you have anything I can help on then?"
He looked at you from over his glasses, "I suppose. Do you think he is more likely to do an interview with Heroes' Gossip or a fan signing at a Hero Expo next week?"
Katsuki hated both those things. Heroes Gossip was exactly that, heroes' gossip, and it got into the nitty gritty details. People who did well on that show were Heroes like Denki and Sero, ones with enough charm to by pass and person questions. Katsuki only went on once, and it was a train wreck, they brought up the details of his childhood with Deku and you. Asking how he felt about the idea of you and Izuku dating. It set him off.
On the other hand, he hated standing or sitting in one area for too long, especially signing things for fans all day long. It was hell on earth for him. He'd have to deal with fan girls trying to grab at him as well as older people criticizing his work.
"I think a Hero Expo might be better, as long as there isn't a hero he hates there and it isn't longer than three hours," you gave your feedback.
"You don't think he's over the last interview?" Tanaka rubbed at his eyes under his glasses.
You hummed, "He likely is, but that doesn't mean that it won't happen again. It'd be another PR nightmare."
"What is?" you looked towards the voice. Giving Katsuki a bright smile.
"Just you," you teased.
"Fuck off," he grumbled, walking past you and to his office door.
"Am I allowed in now?" you stepped alongside him.
Katsuki looked at his manger, giving him rare look of appreciation, and opened his door, "Yeah, Tanaka got food for a us a little bit ago. Should still be warm."
He opened the door for you, letting you walk in first and stepping in behind you, letting the door fall shut.
"What's up with the extra chair?" you pointed towards the chair that sat to the side that matched the one at his desk.
He walked towards the chair, grabbing in at rolling it to sit on the other side of the desk, "Yours, you always fuckin' steal mine."
You flushed at the gift. It was a open invitation into his office. It showed your place next to him. You ran your hand over the top of the chair, spinning it around to see the small details of your favorite color in the stitching. He custom ordered it.
"Thank you," you smiled at him, "You're the best." Finally, you take a seat and rolling it closer to his desk in order to eat. Setting your bag down next to you.
He flushed at the praise. "Tanaka got some of the food you likely from down the street," he pushed a takeout box near you. You instantly opened it, seeing it filled with your favorite order. It was a small sushi bar that you went to often, loving their rolls. Kirishima showed it to you after Fat Gum showed him.
You cracked open a pair of chopsticks that were left on top of the takeout box. Quickly looking to see that he was already digging in, obviously starving from work. "Busy day?" you asked picking up some food and eating a bite.
"Two bank robberies from one group. Pain in my ass," he grumbled, quickly scarfing down more food. After he physically couldn't fit more food in his mouth, he swallowed and drank some water before adding, "Got their asses though."
You nodded along, eating your food at a normal human pace.
"You do anything?" he put picked up another sushi roll in his chopsticks, dipping it in a spicy soy sauce.
The watch in you bag basically burned you with how quickly you remembered about it. Excited to finally give it to him. Before the look could wash over your face, you schooled your features. "Just normal work, Mei blew up some of her new project, so that was something." You were slightly surprised he hasn't brought up his watch to you recently. But you figured it was because his quirk calmed down a little, you haven't seen it act up since Tuesday.
"Isn't she always doing shit like that?" he asked, pointing his chopsticks at you.
"Yeah," you laughed. Looking down at his box you saw he only had two pieces left when he order two full rolls. "God damn vacuum cleaner," you laughed at him.
"Fuck off," Katsuki barked, "I was fucking workin' my ass off today."
"Still, god damn," you often teased him for how fast he eat compare to you. While he was on his last bites, you still had five to go. It wasn't that you were a slow eater, he was just a insane person.
He bit down on the last bites of food. Grumbling and crossing his arms. Proving whatever point he had.
Katsuki went on about his day as you finished up your food, going over how the chase went and what quirks the people had. It was the normal conversation of your lunches. He shared what he could about his job and you did the same.
Once you were done, he grabbed your take-out and threw away your trash. Harshly falling back into his chair, black with orange lining, matching yours.
You looked over his face, idly listening to him go own about his day as you admired him. He had a scar covering the right side of his face. Looking at it too long reminded you of what happened that day. The thought made you want to through up. Quickly, you pinched the fat of your thigh, reminding yourself of the present. You often went into thoughts like these. It was painful but the life of a pro heroes girlfriend.
Rather than dwell on his injury, you looked over the rest of him. His eyes were bright with a fire as he explained how he saved a kid from being buried in cement. You looked over the broad length of his chest, watching it rise with his breathing. Scanning down his arms till you saw his rough fingers drumming across the desk. All the small ways the proved he was alive.
"You good?"
The sudden question knocked you out of thought, you plastered on a smile, "Yeah."
His face scrunched up. before he could call bullshit you moved to reach for your bag.
"I actually brought you something too," you move your hand around your bag before you brought up the watch case. You placed it in the middle of the desk. His face was blank but his eyes were running over the box like crazy. You pushed it towards him when he didn't make a move for it, "Open it."
He glanced up at you, receiving a nod of encouragement, before he grabbed the box. Despite being a rough person, in attitude and everything else, he undid the box as carefully as possible. Sliding the ribbon off and opening the box slowly, as it would shatter.
His hands started shaking at the sight of it. In fear of dropping it, he rushed to place it back on the table. Frantically wiping his hands on his pants.
"Do you like it?" you questioned, worried from his reaction.
"How does it work?" he replied instead, picking it up and putting on his right hand.
Relieved that he liked it enough to immediately wear it, you leaned to point at the watch. "So if you twist this dial to the left one click, then to the right two clicks, and then back to the left for three click, you will have it unlock for identification, " you explained the detailed process. He wanted to make sure that no one else could unlock it and you made sure of it. Even you couldn't activate it once you set passwords in place. "Finally, see how it says 100% that's what your quirk is at right now, so turn it to zero and see how you feel," you sat back in your seat, watching him turn the dial.
He looked like a kid on Christmas as he spun it to 0%, his eyes flicked to you, "So I can try to use my quirk and it won't work?" You nodded.
With the dial at 0% he immediately felt the difference, the constant buzz of his quirk washing away, leaving just the buzz of your presence to warm him. He raised his hand outwards, still weary as he tried to set off his quirk, getting no spark or feeling of it at all. He tested a stronger explosion but received none.
"It fuckin' works," he smiled almost wolfish. You could see the ideas running though his brain at the lack of spark.
He played with the dial a little bit, seeing how the 20% and 40% suppressed his quirk. You glanced at the clock above his desk, seeing your lunch almost up. You'd have to leave soon if you wanted to stay on schedule. "Will this help your quirk training?" you asked, making sure he got what he needed.
"Huh?" he looked down at you from where he was standing and testing his quirk.
"You asked Z' about it for quirk training, that and your quirk's been weird," you filled in the gaps, lost as to how he didn't understand what you were talking about.
He let out a cough followed by a nervous laugh, "Yeah, should work great."
You shot him a look at his odd behavior, picking up your bag and standing to leave.
"What's your plans tonight," he fumbled with his words slightly.
"None?" you hiked the bag better unto your back, grabbing your phone so you could place an uber back to your agency. You didn't have your walking shoes on today. "I was just going to head home and read," you finished answering, "Why?" You quickly finished placing an uber before looking back up at him, confused once again.
His face flushed, " Ramen then? At out favorite spot," he stumbled to add on.
Your face softened. That was your main date spot, only used on highly celebrated dates or anniversaries. "Why there?"
"Just want to have a date with you," he mumbled, face now bright red.
"That happy about the watch? Kats you don't need to take me to dinner, I make you support gear all the time," you stepped closer to him, having been separated by his desk before he stepped around to you as well.
"You wanna go or not?" he huffed, fed up with being embarrassed.
"We don't need to-"
"Do you want to? Cause I want to," he cut you off, he crossed his arms as he leaned into his desk, you standing in front of him.
"Sure," you held back the tease, not wanting to set him off.
"Good, we'll leave home at seven," he pushed off from the desk, walking you out to the door.
You smiled at him, "See you then."
---
The ramen joint was fancy and hidden. Hardly anyone went there if they didn't want extreme privacy. It was something you and Katsuki quickly learned that you needed in your relationship. The public didn't fully know about your relationship, but they did know you two were close and childhood friends. So people speculated off that. So to avoid rumors, Katsuki and you went to hidden gem restaurants.
This ramen joint being a favorite, it was lit purely off candles or warm low lights. It was one of the only, if not the only, romantic restaurants that you two went to. Cozy lights with a dress code of formal.
So the two you walked up to the door, Katsuki offering a hand to help you up the stairs before the restaurant. While your heels and dress didn't make it too difficult, it was nice that it was offered. After grabbing his hand, you expected him to let go at the top of the stairs, but he led you through the restaurant, following the hostess and dragging you along.
Only when at the table he let go. Once the waiter got your drink orders Katsuki fumbled with his hands, "Thanks for the watch."
"Kats, it's nothing," you laughed off, "I've made you many support items, I don't know why you're so happy about this one." His face flushed at the call out. It really confused you, he seemed thrilled that he could turn off his quirk. It was honestly sad. Before you could ask anymore, the waiter gave you your sake and water before taking your food order. The service was great, but annoying for conversation currently.
"Just noticed the detail in this one," he shrugged, "fits me well and shit."
Now he was trying to play it cool? It was all weird.
"Are you sure you're telling me everything?" you accused.
"How was work this week? We spent lunch talkin' 'bout mine," he redirected the conversation.
You shot him another glare at his weird behavior, you'd figure him out eventually. For now you'd have a nice dinner with him.
---
Dinner was just that. Nothing much more. Service was great, so was the food, but conversation was horrible. He dodged any question towards himself, even if it was small. It was all about you and it felt wrong, in a strange way.
The two of you walked the short way back to your apartment. But with looking up at the sky, you regretted that decision. Small water droplets cover the sidewalk slowly. The rain painting it slowly. The streets were empty at only 9pm, you should of taken that as a sign of bad weather. Regardless, the two of you continued walking, him grabbing your hand once out of the restaurant. It was weird, but you let the thought fade at the chance to hold unto him for a little longer.
You swayed in your steps taking up the sidewalk as you stretched your arm to stay linked with Katsuki. He gave you a smile at your behavior. Making you flush and focus more heavily on your step. It reminded you of the romance movies the described this exact situation. A couple walking in the rain, late at night, streets empty as they confessed their love.
Katsuki tugged you towards him, spinning you into his hold, his hand letting go of your and grabbing onto your hips and you leaned into him. Your hands resting on his chest from surprise at the sudden change.
"You got that look on your face again," he smirked down at you. While used to his smile over the years, his smirk still made you weak in the knees.
"Huh?"
"You have a face you make when your thinking on your shitty romance movies," he pointed out.
"I do not," you pouted.
"Yeah it's like this," he scrunched him face to mimic yours horribly.
"Is not," you slapped his chest lightly, "I'd be surprised if you dated me while I made that face."
"Uh huh?" he teased, "cause it was spot on."
You rolled your eyes, face red from being in his hold.
"So what were you thinkin'?" he pushed, squeezing your hips slightly.
"Just all those movies with couples," you dodged until he squeezed again. "Fine, couples kissing in the rain, happy?"
His face flushed, matching the red hue on yours, before he looked up to avoided your stare. You were surprised he was holding you in general, but the fact he hasn't let go truly stunned you. Hugs between you two didn't last longer than a couple seconds. And this was a lot more romantic than a hug.
"Do you wanna?" he looked back down, his eyes tracing over your face between landing on your lips.
"Wh..what?" you stuttered. He looked back up to your eyes.
"Do you want to kiss?" he spelt out for you, face becoming impossibly redder.
"Yeah," you breathed out, looking down to his lips before both your eyes shot to look at each other. Making sure this was okay.
The tension was shooting through your bones. He hasn't offered to kiss since graduation, which was over a year ago.
He pulled his hand away from your waist and up to your face, wiping away the rain that fell on your cheek before he slowly leaned in. You eyes fluttered shut before you felt his lips hit yours. Instantly melting into the new feeling.
Every time before he was either freshly from the hospital or the two of you were excited and let it run you into a kiss that only lasted a moment before you were off running to friends and family during graduation.
Your knees caved slightly, letting you fall even deeper into the kiss, deeper into him, as you tilted your head. The kiss was just like him, explosive. It left you buzzing as he pulled away for a breath.
He rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes before breathing out heavily, "I'm sorry we don't do that often enough."
Your once closed eyes shot up, you slightly pushed away from him, "What?"
He furrowed his eyebrows, "I just wish I haven't been holding that out of our relationship."
You pushed yourself out of his hold, stepping back, "Katsuki Bakugo."
"What?" he almost demanded.
"I told you that I was fine without physical touch. I've been fine without it. Yet the second you've found out, you've been weird," you pushed a finger into his chest, "Now your kissing me, saying sorry? How do you think that makes me feel?"
He shook his head, "I don't see the problem."
"Of course you don't," you basically lectured, "Our relationship has been steady. Sure it hasn't been typical, but it's been us. Yet the second someone mentions that I like touch, you've been all weird."
"I want to make you happy? Is that fuckin' horrible?" Katsuki huffed.
You scoff, "No, but you were already making me happy. Now you are doubting our relationship, not telling me about your quirk issues, and worst of all, pushing yourself when I didn't ask. If you aren't ready for things that's fine! If your never ready, that's also fine. I just want you Katsuki. I want the you that doesn't give two fucks about what anyone thinks."
His head hung, his hands coming up to rub at his face. "I don't know how to fuckin' do this shit," he mumbled.
You stepped closer to him, "Just stop worrying about every little thing. I'm with you, you don't have to win me again. Just do what you want and I'll tell you if I have an issue."
"And what if what I want is to kiss you more and other stupid shit," he muttered under his breath.
Your face flamed with the comment, "Well," you cleared you throat, "if that's what you want, then I'd be happy to. But only if it's what you actually want."
"Of fuckin' course it is, why wouldn't I want to kiss my damn girlfriend," his wolfish grin was back quicker than ever as you pulled you into him. Quickly getting over the little spat the two of you just had.
"I don't know, you haven't wanted to before," you shrugged in his hold.
"Oh I've wanted to," he protested.
"Then why haven't you?" you tilted your head.
"Reasons," he took your held tilt as an opening, slotting his lips against yours. You slapped at his shoulder for dodging the question but you quickly moved to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. He hugs you closer as he swayed the two of you in your kiss. Letting the rain soak the two of you to the bone without a second thought. Only worried about the one in front of you. Any worry dripping out of your soul just as the water dripped out of your clothes. Because even though he hated the rain, he loved you more.
-Next Part-
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698 notes · View notes
limarkova · 5 days ago
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Yandere Batfam x Neglected Reader x Yandere Al Ghuls
Pt. 6
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Author's Note: this chapter gets really dark and reader does describe what happened in the experiments with detail. If you can't read that than here's a little summary. Reader was injected with numerous strange liquids. One labeled LPW caused her meta abilities to awaken. Once they ensured she wouldn't die they took her organs out of her body. She was alive and awake for most of it. That's what made her determined to escape. You can skip from the first Pov change to when it says "Damian was in front of you."
Dick stood outside of her door. His hand hovered over the wood. He wasn't a 100% sure what he was supposed to say. Obviously it would have to be a delicate conversation. This was traumatic for her on some degree but she needed to know they were there for her. She needed to know he was there for her.
Yet all he could remember surrounding her were broken promises. He knew he had a bad habit of ditching people cause someone asked for help. Yet with her it had always been a little worst. He remembered at one time he promised to be at her first science fair and ditched her for a date with Starfire. When he got home she looked upset but told him she knows he was busy being a hero. That some people needed a hero more than she needed a brother.
God she said that to him at five. Did he really deserve to barge in and be her supportive big brother now. No his mistakes stopped today, he would do better for his sister.
Dick knocked on the door. She called out, "Just a minute."
There was shuffling noise beyond the door. She opened it and Dick immediately felt himself stiffen. (Name) was taller than he remembered. That was to be expected, it had been two years. But when had she gotten that mature look about her. Dick put on his best casual smile, "Hey, I wanted to check up on you."
"I'm doing fine." She nodded at him once. There was a brief pause before she continued, "I'm still missing a few essential items but I should be fine until I can a new debit card."
"Yeah, Alfred called the bank about that actually." That caught her attention. She gestured with her head and stepped aside. That's a good sign, she's inviting him into her room. Dick walked into her room and took a seat on an old bean bag. Despite spraying it with enough frebreeze and lysol to kill three generations of germs it still had a slight smell of mothballs. He clear his throat than continued, "They had turned off that card three days. Someone tried withdrawing too much cash at an ATM."
"I told you it was stolen at school. I'm not surprised they did something stupid with it." She shrugged before taking a seat in her desk chair. Half the stickers that decorated it this morning had been peeled off. There was a box now in the middle of the room were it seemed she was packing up old novelty items. Was she cleaning out her room?
Dick gave her a nod, "Yeah. So how was Miss Rose's? Despite the troublesome roommates I mean."
(Name) paused. Tilting her head to the ceiling she thought for a minute before sighing. She bit her lip, looking between her hands and him, "I... I would have preferred to stay at Gotham Prep. Honestly I feel like I fell behind going there. Not to mention half the people there seemed like they wanted to eat me alive."
Dick paused, licking his lip. He knew he couldn't do this by letting her think he didn't know. He had to come clean. "So umm, Alfred called Miss Rose's and they said you never attended."
"What?" Her eyes went wide and her breathing went unsteady. Her eyes began to shift between all the exits in the room. A slight tremble began in her lips.
Dick swallowed but pushed forward, "and the debit card. The statement show it was being used to withdraw cash in Gotham for the past two years when Miss Rose's is in the UK. (Name) I know you didn't attend a boarding school."
"So. You know what happened." Her muscles started locking up. It was like watching a mask fall off her face. The trembling in her lips gave way to a snarl. Her eyebrow scrunched up as she directed a look of utter rage squarely at him.
Dick stood from the bean bag holding his hands out in front of him, "I don't know what happened but I know you weren't at school."
"Liar." She hissed the word like it burned. There was nothing on her face of the understanding five year old. It felt like he looking at Jason when he was consumed by pit rage again.
"I'm not lying. I didn’t know you weren't at school until yesterday when Alfred called them."
"Am I really expected to just believe that?" She shoved herself out of the chair. It toppled to the ground with a loud thud. "That you, of all people, wouldn't notice an entire child just disappearing. Your own sister no less."
"We... I... (Name), I really thought you were at a boarding school." Dick step forward, reaching blindly for them. This was not how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to comfort her, not upset her.
She flinched away from him. A caged animal look cross her face as she scrambled towards her bed. "Prove it. Where's the letters you got from me while I was at 'school', what reasons were you given for me to not show up on breaks. Or did the 'school' just conveniently not have those. What proof were you given that I was at this place that you so throughly believe it for two years?"
Dick frozen because there was none. He had truly just accepted she was at school with no proof. That easily, he accepted it with no questions or second thought.
"(Name), please."
"Well, I'm waiting." Dick flinched at the words. Something like shame must of be on his face because she scoffed at him. (Name) stood up straighter, disgust mixed with the rage, "You can't because there is none. So you knew, you had to have known because there is no way anyone in this fucking manor was stupid enough to the forget about a whole child for two years until she showed up at the door. You knew and did nothing! I needed you and you did nothing!"
She screamed the last sentence, the words bouncing around her room like a ping pong ball. Tears had started streaming down her face. Her breath was ragged that cage look disappearing from her face. Panic mixed with utter despair blanketed her eyes.
Dick's chest tighten. There it was, bare and simple. He had failed so throughly and he couldn't deny it. Dick tried walking towards her again. He was desperate. If he could reach her, hold her he could make things right, "I'm sorry (Name). Please let me make this right, let me help you."
The rage was coming back. She jabbed a finger towards him, but to Dick it might as well of been a bullet fired directly at him. "You don't deserve a chance to make it 'right'. Get out now."
Dick started, "I know I messed up."
"No you failed. You failed and there is no making it right. Just get out, I don't want to look at you, just leave already." More tears streamed down her face. Her hands gripped at her ears, her every breath was labored. She was having a breakdown and he was making it worse. Dick knew he couldn't leave her like this but he also couldn't help her.
There was a tense standoff before Dick released a breath. Leaving that room felt like a mistake but he didn't know what else he could do. He truly had failed. When the door closed he heard her sobbing. He pressed his back to the door listening, knowing he couldn't do anything to help her right now. Pulling out his phone he texted Bruce, "we're all on the shit list."
There was no way, they didn't know. You refused to believe it. If they truly didn't know and had forgotten about you than it was all for nothing. Surviving had all been for nothing. They had to have known there was no other option. At least one of them.
Memories coursed through you as if they were happening all over again. The first time they strapped you to a table and inject something into you. It had caused so much burning in your left arm, you hadn't realized you had started screaming. When you looked over your arm was an angry red with intense swelling. Your world had started to spin as panic state in. First you begged, than you just cry. The man who administered the shot just watched a small monitor that continued to beep.
The injections continued. Vials of weird liquid following close behind. Sometimes you threw up, choking on your own vomit until someone remove the straps and rolled you over. Your mind echoing the chant "they will come, they'll find me." You repeated it at night till sleep claimed you. Whispered it like a prayer when the pain became too much.
Than one day, they injected you with a thick blue green liquid label LPW. Something about the liquid stuck with you as important. It caused a sharp change in your vitals. From what you understood you flatlined shortly after it was injected into you.
You had your dream again. A strange comfort in being some place familiar. Than you were thrust back into life with someone on top of you performing CPR. Things got worse from there.
They run some test before the trials started. You hated the trials as much as wished for them. They also started saying the date when they started the test. It was the only way you knew how long you had been there. Then the pain would begin. Stabbing, whipping, electrocution, drowning, at some point you began to believe that the man administering the test was getting off on your pain. That he was intentionally getting worse and worse to experience more and more of a high. Yet you had your comfort "They'll find you, they'll come."
At some point you stop experiencing pain. Something about pain being an alert to the immune system. It all went over your head and stopped making sense. That's also when they told you about the expanded lifespan. It was a theory but the compound they injected you with was known to bring people back from to life after they died or back from brink of death. If they were right you could potentially live to be hundreds maybe even thousands of years old.
After the two years mark they did their 'final test'. You woke up already strapped to a table. Everything was kind of hazy, yet there were the normal bright lights and beeping monitors to tell you where you were. They said the date and it blurred in your head. Was this another drowning test? Is that why they sounded so far away?
Your body felt warm and light. They were wearing different uniforms. Why was that, what were they doing? A blade was handed to someone. There was a cut down your chest. Clamps held you open so you couldn't heal the wound shut. If there was an object lodged in the wound you couldn't heal. They knew that.
Hands reached into you torso. It felt funny, like they were tickling your insides. There were five people all making your inside feel weird. Scalpels, blood, and other strange liquids flashed in your vision. Than they removed something. It was small and covered in blood. The strange lump looked like a grayish pink pillow. They set it into something just outside your field of vision.
More and more lumps followed. The people were there for a long time or maybe it was a short time. It was still blurry; time could be blurring together. At some point they stopped. There was an argument between the people. They were pointing to you. Two of them walked out. The other three got oddly close to you before the tickling started again. They pulled out three more lumps before letting the flaps of your torso close. One of them holding a strangely shape lump that was leaking blood over the place pulled his mask down. With crooked, yellow stained teeth he smiled.
The wound didn’t heal not at first. Instead, the flaps of skin fell into your chest. The haziness started to slowly leave your body. They had drugged you for that test. You stared and stared at your chest when it finally hit. That weird feeling in your chest they caused was them removing your organ. They literally hollowed you out. You tried to speak, repeat your prayer but without lungs that was no air to create the noise.
Something broke that day. They weren't going to find you; they weren't going to come. You had to leave, clearly something had gone wrong, and they were unable to find you.
It was a strange sensation, having your organs regrow inside your body. Strange to watch too. For some reason you stayed awake during the whole process. Realistically, without oxygen the cells in your brain should have given out. Gone to sleep until your lungs regrew. Yet you never actually passed out when drowned or choked. At some point your brain flipped to no longer need oxygen. You became a zombie, unable to think properly but still seeing, hearing, and importantly remembering.
The morning of the second day you regained feeling in your limbs. Finally able to think you crawled to your spot. Taking your shit pillow with you. They would send someone to check in a few hours. Pulling the pillow apart you revealed the excessive amount of scalpels you had stolen over the past year. No one was coming it was time for you to leave.
One of the guards opened the door. He walked towards you. Then he reached behind you? Wait there was nothing there, you were against a wall. There was a sudden weight and warmth being wrapped around you. It was so unexpected, that you blinked. That must have cleared your vision.
Damian was in front of you. He was crouched down on his knees, wrapping the comforter from your bed tightly around you. Nothing was said as he finished. The two of you just sat there in a blank silence. You broke it first, "Why?"
"You are my sister. As such it is my responsibility to look after you and ensure your wellbeing." He looked at where his hands rested on his knees. There was another beat of silence as his green eyes danced with emotions. "I am sorry about attacking you and how I acted when I first met you."
He seemed genuine in his apology. You looked at the blanket wrapped around you. Maybe you had been too quick to judge Damian. But he acted just like him in those few moments. That man that got off on causing your body to spasm in pain. The one that, now in your clear mind, you knew had removed your heart and smiled when he was done. That man would never apologize though. You looked at Damian, "You don't have to stay."
"I am not leaving your side until I know you are well." Damian gave you a sharp nod. Then seemed to think for a moment, "Though I admit to not be good at comforting people. If you are okay with it, I would like to take you somewhere that might provide better comfort."
"I'm fine." You shook your head and pulled the comforter closer to you. Your room felt safe in a strange way to you. It was small with only one entrance that was easily accessible. Your window had an old Victorian style metal grate over it. Leaving even for Damian to show you something felt more threatening than any comfort could make up for.
Your brother considered you for a minute. The look made you want to crawl under your bed. Finally, he sighed than stood, "I shall return."
Once he was out of your room you climb under your bed. Screw Alfred's request, you needed safety from any prying eyes or cameras. In the dark quiet you allowed tears to fall again. You felt hollowed out again, pressing your hands to your chest. The assurance that something was there pushed the feeling back a little. It wasn’t enough.
Your door opened again. A part of you want to scream at the person to leave. But that required lungs and you weren't 100% certain you weren't hollow. There was a heavy sigh followed by shuffling.
"Can please come out and tell me if this helps?" Damian's voice interrupted your descent again. Sighing you rolled out from under the bed. It didn't matter if you got hurt.
Yet instead of pain you were in a blanket fort. Damian was a little ways away from you holding a black and white cat. He nodded to you and set the cat down. It stretched before walking over to you and curling up on your stomach. You began to pet the cat on your stomach gently, feeling the hollowness disappear.
"You confuse me Damian."
Damian eyebrows scrunched up and he started to pout. "How?"
"First you attack me. Than you try to spend time with me and get shot down just get back up and try to help me." You kept petting the cat. It purred and nuzzled into your hand. You smiled at the feline chasing the hollow feeling away.
Damian considered your words before sighing, "I believe there was a misunderstanding between us. All I was told about you in the manor was that I have sister. So I wrongly assumed they were talking about Cassandra."
"So when you saw me walking around the manor?" The cat yawned and curled on tighter on your stomach.
Damian sighed, "I once again wrongly assumed you were an intruder."
You laughed bitterly, "So they really didn't talk about me? Why am I not surprised."
"Honestly it's pathetic. World's greatest detectives and they don't even properly informed me about my sister cause they all assumed someone else had." Damian crossed his arms. This prompt a two hour long complaining session about the family.
Damian was shocked at the fact of you didn't know about half the family's drama. You were shocked how little they actually knew about you. Their vision of you boiled down to an innocent little kid who like science experiments and space. Meanwhile they're out there literally dying, getting blown up, drugged with God knows what, and so much more. No wonder Bruce need some way to make someone capable of healing any injury or illness. That had to have been his motive.
There was a knock on your door and Duke poked his head in. "Hey guys, it's time for dinner."
"Go away Thom-"
"No Dami, he's chill." You opened the flaps of you fort. Waving to Duke you announced, "We're complaining about the family. Come on."
"Dude wait until you hear about what I just learned." Duke hurried over to the tent. He was a little too big for the tent and ended up laying on his stomach with his legs hanging out. You handed him a pillow that he could lay on. He took a deep breath before spilling the beans, "So apparently everyone but Dick, Cass, Alfred, and Bruce had the wrong location on where your school was."
"Are you kidding me?" You could feel your rage coming back. Calculations began to run rampant in your mind at the realization.
"What were going to do if she was in danger?" Damian gestured to you. Rage blazed in his eyes. Oh, he was on her side that was good.
Duke shrugged gesturing to the space in the center of the tent, "Go to the wrong country I guess?"
"Country?" You gave Duke the most indignified look you ever made in your life. It would be the perfect diversion to throw any of your siblings that did care off the trail. Sending them to the wrong country would give them months to find, secure, and move you to a new location if they got to close. Bruce really was a fucking mastermind though you had to ask. "How did everyone get the wrong country?"
"They found boarding school brochures around the manor and assumed that was the one you were attending. In reality Cass just forgot to put them away." Duke facepalmed. He looked kind of disappointed. "When Jason found out, I thought he was going to get in a fist fight with Bruce. He literally stormed out of the manor and is standing at his apartment right now."
"Okay, Bruce, Alfred, and Dick, I can understand but Cass? How was she involved?" As far as you were aware Cass stalked you for three weeks than ignored for two years.
"Bruce asked her to help choose a school cause he thought she could choose the best one for." That bitch. Just when you were considering let her off the hook. But that also meant they were planning this for years before it actually happened. Was Cass brought into the manor strictly to be a weapon against you? This went deeper than you orginially thought.
There was no more delaying your plans. It was time to start making some bigger moves before they could.
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pandapetals · 1 month ago
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Merry Christmas
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It's Christmas Day! You and Logan exchange gifts.
professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - married couple, cute, fluff, banter, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor, holiday vibes, logan being a softie
read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here
a/n: It’s the last one shot and i am sad. It’s been so much fun writing for christmas. I hope everyone gets logan under their tree this year.
divider credit: @saradika
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The mansion was silent, wrapped in a thick blanket of snow from the night’s storm, the world outside hushed and peaceful. You woke to the sound of Logan’s soft snoring beside you, his hand resting protectively on your hip, even in sleep. Smiling to yourself, you carefully slipped out of bed, pulling on your robe as you padded downstairs to put the finishing touches on his gifts.
You’d thought long and hard about what to get him, wanting each gift to be something meaningful. A leather tool roll, perfectly sized for his motorbike tools, so he’d always have something useful on hand. A bottle of his favorite whiskey, because you knew he’d never buy the fancy stuff for himself. And your personal favorite—a beautifully framed vintage map of the Canadian wilderness, detailing the rugged terrain of the land he loved so much. But the most important gift, the one that had taken you months to finish, was a small wooden box filled with letters, each one tied neatly with twine.
Each letter was for a different moment, a different feeling. One for when he felt alone, one for when he felt angry, one for when he doubted himself. Every letter was written to remind him how deeply he was loved, how much he mattered. You’d poured your heart into every word, hoping that he’d feel the weight of your love whenever he needed it most.
By the time you’d finished arranging everything under the tree, you heard the soft creak of the stairs and turned to see Logan coming down, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, hair even more wild than usual. He was wearing his old flannel shirt over sweatpants, looking gruff but endearingly soft, as if he hadn’t quite woken up.
"Mornin', darlin’," he mumbled, his voice rough, a sleepy smile tugging at his lips as he saw you waiting by the tree.
"Merry Christmas, Logan," you whispered, stepping forward to press a soft kiss to his cheek. His arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer, and for a moment, the two of you just stood there, wrapped in each other’s warmth as snowflakes drifted softly outside the window.
Reluctantly, you pulled back and gestured to the pile of gifts. "C’mon, let’s open these."
Logan chuckled, eyeing the gifts with a raised brow. "You went all out, huh? I didn’t know we were doin’ this whole… gift thing."
You laughed, nudging him down onto the couch and settling beside him. "Just open yours. I think you’ll like them."
He started with the tool roll, his rough hands carefully unwrapping the leather. He ran his fingers over it, a faint smile playing on his lips. "This… this is real nice," he muttered, a little shy. "I’ll definitely use it."
Next, he picked up the whiskey, letting out a low whistle as he looked at the label. "You got me the good stuff, huh? You spoil me," he said with a smirk, though there was a flicker of genuine appreciation in his eyes. But when he unwrapped the framed vintage map, he went completely silent, his fingers brushing over the contours of the familiar landscape.
"I figured… you could hang it in your office, or keep it somewhere special," you murmured, watching his face closely.
Logan swallowed, his gaze lingering on the map as if he were lost in the memories of those wild places. "This is… perfect," he whispered, his voice rough. "Thank you."
There was one gift left, and you hesitated for a moment before handing him the small wooden box. His brows knit together as he looked down at it, curiosity and something else—a softer emotion—flickering across his face. He lifted the lid and saw the bundle of letters, each one tied with care, each one addressed to a moment he might need a reminder of your love.
"For when you’re feeling… well, you know," you said softly, your fingers nervously fidgeting as you watched his reaction. "Each one is for a different time. I just… wanted you to know that I’m always here, even if I’m not right next to you."
Logan took a shaky breath, his gaze fixed on the box of letters. His jaw clenched as he fought to keep his expression steady, but you saw the glint of tears in his eyes. He lifted one of the letters, his fingers trembling slightly as he ran his thumb over your handwriting, the careful loops and lines you’d written with so much love.
"No one’s… no one’s ever done somethin’ like this for me," he said, his voice cracking. "I don’t… I don’t deserve this, or you." His voice was barely more than a whisper now, vulnerability laid bare in a way he rarely allowed.
You reached up, cradling his face with your hands, gently brushing a thumb over his cheek. "Logan… you’re wrong. You deserve so much more than you think." You smiled, the love in your eyes soft and steady. "You’re the best gift I could ever ask for. Just you… exactly as you are."
A tear slipped down his cheek, and he closed his eyes, leaning into your touch as if grounding himself in the warmth of your hands. Without another word, he pulled you into his arms, his embrace tight, almost desperate, like he was afraid to let go.
When he finally pulled back, his hand slid behind your neck, pulling you in for a kiss filled with every unspoken word he couldn’t quite say. His forehead rested against yours as he whispered, "I love you, sweetheart."
You smiled against his lips, pressing one last kiss to his mouth. "I love you, more. Merry Christmas, Logan."
After a long moment, Logan reluctantly pulled back, his gaze soft but intent as he reached for a small, neatly wrapped package on the coffee table. He handed it to you, looking almost… shy.
“Go on,” he murmured, clearing his throat and looking away, trying to cover up the faint blush creeping up his neck. “It’s… not much, but I thought you might like it.”
Curious, you tore off the wrapping paper, revealing a leather-bound book with intricate gold detailing on the cover. You sucked in a breath, your eyes widening as you ran your fingers over the title embossed in gold.
Pride and Prejudice. Not just any copy—this was a rare first edition.
“Logan…” you breathed, your voice a mixture of awe and disbelief. “How… how did you even find this?”
He shrugged, trying to play it off, but you could see the glint of pride in his eyes. “Got my ways,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. “Figured it’d mean somethin’ to you.”
Carefully, almost reverently, you opened the book, feeling the delicate weight of the pages between your fingers. But as you turned to the first few pages, something fluttered out—a piece of paper, folded neatly and tucked between them.
You glanced up at him, eyebrow raised. He shifted uncomfortably, looking down at his hands. “I, uh… slipped a little somethin’ in there,” he admitted, his voice barely above a grumble. “Wrote it myself. Might be rough around the edges, but… well, it’s for you.”
With trembling hands, you unfolded the paper, your heart racing as you read the words written in his unmistakable handwriting. It was a short poem, raw and unpolished, each line laced with sincerity.
Didn’t think I’d find somethin' that felt like home,
in the rasp of your laughter, in all the things left unsaid,
in the quiet that ain’t lonely ‘cause you’re in it.
Darlin’—you’re the reason I keep holdin’ on,
the reason a scarred heart like me starts thinkin'
he might be worth somethin' after all.
The words weren’t flowery or grand, but they were him—every line filled with honesty, with a depth he rarely shared. Your vision blurred as you read it again, the weight of his words sinking in.
“Logan…” you whispered, looking up at him, eyes glistening with tears. “This is… it’s beautiful.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, looking both relieved and embarrassed. “Didn’t think I’d hear that word used on anythin’ I wrote,” he muttered, the faintest hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Figured you’d laugh it off.”
“Are you kidding?” you said, reaching over to take his hand, squeezing it tight. “It’s perfect. It’s you, and that means more to me than anything else in the world.”
His thumb brushed over your knuckles, his gaze holding yours. After a long, lingering silence, Logan reached behind the couch and pulled out one last gift, this one wrapped in old newspaper and tied with a bit of string. He handed it to you, his eyes a bit softer. 
“This one’s… well, it’s somethin’ I worked on myself,” he said, almost bashful. “Thought it might help you with… y’know, all that writin’ you do.”
Intrigued, you carefully unwrapped it, and as soon as you saw the vintage typewriter nestled inside, your breath hitched. The old keys gleamed, meticulously polished, and there was a faint scent of oil and leather from where he’d restored it with his own hands. Every piece, every detail, looked lovingly cared for.
“Oh my god, Logan…” you whispered, running your fingers over the smooth metal, feeling the weight of each key under your touch. “You… you did this yourself?”
He nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Yeah. It was in pretty rough shape when I found it, but I thought… well, I thought you might like workin’ on somethin’ like this. Somethin’ that’d make all those stories you’re dreamin’ up feel a little more real.”
You stared at him, overwhelmed. He wasn’t just giving you a typewriter—he was giving you the chance to chase your dreams, to bring your words to life in a way that was uniquely yours.
Without another word, you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close. “You… you have no idea how much this means to me,” you whispered, your voice choked with emotion.
His arms tightened around you, and for a long, tender moment, he just held you, his cheek resting against your hair. When he finally pulled back, there was a glisten in his eyes he didn’t even try to hide.
“Guess I did somethin’ right, huh?” he murmured, a hint of vulnerability in his voice as his thumb brushed across your cheek.
“You did everything right,” you replied, your smile soft and unwavering. Leaning in, you kissed him—slow, deep, pouring every ounce of love and gratitude you had into it.
When you pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart. Couldn’t ask for a better one.”
You smiled, your hands still laced with his. "Here’s to all the Christmases to come," you whispered back.
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parkerluvsu · 1 month ago
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day 9: kink discovery/negotiation <3
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despite what you might think, art is quite open to experimentation. the hushed whispers by patrick who would walk in on art during college are enough to tell you that. you're surprised at first, hearing about how patrick gifted art a fleshlight as a joke for his birthday one year and art couldnt be left alone or else he'd cum himself stupid. more embarrassing (to art) was when patrick walked in on him spreading himself open, bending his legs and thrusting his fingers inside himself, too fucked out to realize patrick was standing there.
once in a relationship with you however, he tones it down, afraid of scaring you away like he has done with other partners before. after hearing from patrick about arts sexual escapades, you start looking online for something to surprise him with, settling on a strap-on that had the best reviews. now you just have to play the waiting game, and hope that art doesn't check your expenses and find out what you bought for him.
you're intensely thankful when you get the notification that your package was delivered while you're on your way home, hoping that art hasn't seen it been delivered, but you're pretty sure he's at the gym. you get home and grab your keys, before you notice that the package isn't outside your door. the first thought is that someone stole it, but then a sinking feeling in your stomach accompanies the thought that art might have seen it and brought it in.
opening the door, you see art looking at the package, smiling at you shyly as he sees you. "oh you.. you picked up my package" you say, trying not to be suspicious as you set down your bag and take off your shoes. "yeah i did.. i thought you'd appreciate it but.." art looks down, then glances at you again. "um.. do you mind if i ask what it is?" he asks quietly, turning the package towards you so that you can see the label. it boldly reads, "toys for his pleasure" and you almost have the urge to laugh, thinking back to the promised "discreet packaging" advertised on the website.
"well um.." you blush, tapping your fingers on the table in front of you. "maybe it would just be better if you opened it." you suggest, looking at him for support. art is almost more embarrassed than you, but he nods, opening the box easily and removing the wrapping paper around the strap-on, his eyes widening when he sees it. "you.. bought this for.. me? for.. us?" art is clearly having a hard time understanding how you figured out that he was waiting to ask you to fuck him.. but maybe you just know him so well. whatever the reason may be, art is happy about it.
"well yeah.. i mean i was wondering if you were even interested in that stuff but i guess i should've asked you about it before i bought it.." you admit, anxiously looking at him. "i- would you be interested..?" you ask, resisting the urge to cross your fingers for luck. art smiles sweetly at you, like he always does, and nods. "yeah of course i would.. i mean not of course but.. you know what i mean.." he stumbles over his words already having to shift the way he's standing to accommodate the growth in his pants. "can we try it now?" <3
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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month ago
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The Exchange
Warnings: allusions to parental abuse, non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
Summary: Your father surprises you for Christmas.
Character: Cole Turner
Day Twenty-Three of the December Daze Challenge.
Prompt - let me dust the snow off your coat/hat/shoulder 
Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
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“What the fuck are you doin’?” Your father’s snarl sends the turkey slipping back into the sink. You spin to face him, holding up your cold hands. 
“Daddy, just doin’ up the turkey,” you blink. “It’s thawed now--” 
“I don’t care about the fuckin’ turkey,” he retorts. “Should be gettin’ yourself ready.” 
You frown and look down at yourself. You wear one of his old shirts, the Ford tee with the hole near the hem and a loose cardigan Shelby from down the way gave you, over loose sweats that were once also his. Nothing you have it really your own, it’s only his scraps, what he doesn’t need anymore. 
“Ready for what?” 
“You questioning me, girl?” He growls. 
You gulp and shake your head. You lower your hand, keeping them away from your clothes as you’re all too aware of the raw poultry all over them. You stare at him. 
“Yes, sir, I'll get ready,” you step forward hesitantly, uncertain as you watch him.  
He huffs through his nose and curls his lip, “presents on your bed. Figure it out.” 
You nod as you come close to him, wary of a lunge as you thank him under your breath. He only shoulders past you and goes to the counter. You’re confused.
Your father doesn’t get you gifts. He doesn’t get anyone gifts. You spent weeks thrifting what you could to give to your aunt and uncles when they got here, altering it all to make it presentable, but he only ever reads his sci-fi books and makes demands. 
You go to the bathroom to wash your hands. You look at yourself in the mirror. Anxiety tenses in your cheeks. Every day roils with the same uneasiness. Every day for more than two decades. You should want to get away but complacence is easier. He hates you but for whatever reason he won’t let you go. 
You go to your room. There’s a bag on your bed. You don’t know why you expected something wrapped or a bow. Still, your surprised by the contents of the paper bag. 
A pink dress with long bloused sleeves and a short skirt. You lift it out and stare in disbelief. You lay it on the bed and take out the shoes with it; little white booties with fur. At the bottom, there’s a box with shiny colours streaked across it; makeup? 
Your father’s footsteps have you facing the door and he appears in his stained flannel, slurping his instant coffee. “Well?” 
“Thank you, daddy, it’s really nice--” 
“Get a move on,” he snaps his fingers at you. 
“Oh, uh, yes, sir,” you shrink down and turn to gather up the things. 
“Make sure you wash all of ya,” he sneers. “You smell like a dead bird.” 
You swallow down your embarrassment. It feels like a trick. Why would he get you such nice things but still be so mean? Where did he get the money? His Christmas bonus always goes to whatever car he’s clanking around on in the garage. 
You go to your dresser and fish out a bra and some clean underwear. Everything you have are handmedown. They are all forgotten, like you. It feels so strange to have anything brand new. 
You take it all to the bathroom and start the shower. You stick to the golden rule; no more than three minutes to get washed up. Don’t waste the damn water, your father’s voice haunts you. 
You dry off and dress. The dress is nice but a bit snug. It’s too short, isn’t it? You tug at it until you can breathe. 
You once more face your reflection. You are lost. You do your best to tame your hair then put on the dollar store cream.  
You open the box of cosmetics. You read each label and search for any instructions. There’s nothing.  
You uncap the liner and examine the tip. You pull your eyelid taut and meticulous draw a thin line over the edge. You let it go. It looks okay. Not tacky or anything. You do the other and do your best to even them out. 
Next the mascara. You fear scraping your eyes but coat your lashes without incident. It looks better now. You blink as you take in the effect. The blush... you’re not very sure. You blend a bit into your cheeks but don’t think it makes much difference. 
Finally, you gloss your lips with the stick of pink. You like the colour but the sheen feels unnatural and sticky. Your father clears his throat as he prowls outside. You sniff and pack everything up. That’s as good as it gets. 
You step out as he grumbles in the kitchen door frame. You glance over and he huffs. “Put the damn shoes on. Whatcha draggin’ your ass for?” 
You flit back to your room and grab the boots. You think of grabbing socks or something but you don’t have anything to go with the dress. Your legs will just be cold. 
You come back out on the heels, wobbling slightly. Your father storms at you from the front door, moving quicker than you’ve seen. He shoves your coat at you. You pout as you try to unravel his intent. 
“Daddy?” 
“Go wait outside. He'll be here soon, won’t he?” 
“He? Daddy?” 
“You’re so fucking mouthy, go.” 
He jams his thumb at the door and you flinch. You take the coat and pull it on. It doesn’t go with the dress or boots. What’s going on? 
“Are you coming?” 
“Fuck off,” he pushes you toward the door and you stumble into it. 
You put your chin down as you plant your feet and pull away from the door. You put the coat on before you untwist the lock. You are lost. 
He slams the door behind you before you can shut it yourself. You shiver as you step onto the porch and search the wintery country fields. There isn’t much snow, enough to dust the ground, but the air is crisp. Your legs are scalded by the early freeze. 
You stare off in the distance. Your heart pumps faster as a thought startles you. Did your daddy just kick you out? Why? On Christmas? 
You see the square headlights first. The pale blue truck winds down the hidden dirt road and steers towards the old homestead. You squeeze yourself as another chill sweeps over you as you watch the approach. Hooked to the back of the truck is a long trailer, the contents covered. 
You recognise the silver trim of the truck. You squint at Cole through the windshield as he pulls up, the exhaust clouding the frigid air. The door shrieks as he pushes it open and you chatter as you bring your hands to your raw cheeks. 
“Hey, you look frozen,” he says. “Merry Christmas.” 
“M-merry Christmas, sir,” you call back. You still don’t understand. 
“I’ll just unhook the load for your dad, then we can head out,” he grins as he keeps his hand on his open truck door. “Got the heat going, you wanna get in before you freeze your knees off?” 
You wince and turn to peek at the windows. Huh? You shrug and come down the steps. You’re so cold, you don’t care. You just want to stop shivering. 
Cole closes the driver’s door and leads you around to the passenger’s side. He pauses to dust snow off your shoulder as flakes swirl down lazily. His touch somehow makes you colder. He opens it and holds out his gloved hand to help you up. He’s always polite but you don’t see him very much. Your daddy did a few repairs on his truck and he would help with the garden in the summer. You were always inside, locked up. 
You let go of him, your hand thrumming from his warmth. He gently shuts the door and continues towards the rear. The truck jostles as he unhooks the trailer. You peek in the mirror and see the thick ends of the wooden planks poking out from under the tarp. It’s a lot of wood. Expensive, probably. 
None of this makes sense. Cole comes up to the driver side and gets in with a ‘brrrr’. You blow into your hands and he reaches to turn the vent up even higher. He smiles at you as you avoid looking at him. 
“Ready?” He asks. 
You hunch down and rub your hands together, “for what?” 
He’s quiet. He peers through the windshield at the house then back at you. You shrink under his gaze. 
“Did your dad... what did he tell you?” 
You heart thumps. Will you get in trouble if you don’t go along with whatever this is? “He didn’t... he just told me to wait for you.” 
“Ah,” he reaches once more to wipe away melted snow from your sleeve. “Well, er...” He stiffens in his seat. “I thought he’d... say something.” 
You just nod. Whatever you say or do will get back to your daddy somehow. He’ll be mad if you ruin whatever this is. 
“It’s a lot of wood. Your dad says he’s going to add onto the garage,” Cole speaks as he shifts gears and steers away from the trailer, circling back towards his tire tracks. “Not many folks got that kind of money and I don’t really need anything done on the truck.” 
Your lashes flutter in furious thought. It feels like this should be obvious but your mind isn’t clicking. 
“Did I say you look really nice?” He clears his throat. “Cold, but nice. I shoulda bought some stockings too.” 
You look down at the rosy skirt and shake your head. A piece slips into place. Of course it wasn’t your daddy who bought it all. 
“Oh, you—thank you, Cole,” you squeak as you smooth the short hem. 
“Well, I figured you’d want to look pretty. I mean, you always do, but... it’s Christmas, right?” 
He sounds nervous, just as much as you. You wring your hands and look around the white landscape. Your stomach is a storm. 
“It was nice of you to bring daddy all that lumber, sir,” you say. 
“Please, call me Cole,” he insists. He’s quiet for a moment as he steers, then sucks his teeth. “Or you could call me something nicer. Like... honey?” 
“Honey?” You eke out. “Why-- uh... oh?” 
You furrow your nose and rub between your brows. That dark feeling crawls up from your stomach as the doubt in your head trickles down to meet it. It’s not making sense but... 
“You still look cold,” he reaches over to rest his hand on your knee, “you can get warm...” He tickles along your skirt then bends his arm up and stretches it out to grab your shoulder. “Come here.” 
You blanch but make yourself slide over. You tremble as you do. He curls his arm over your shoulders, his other hand on the bottom of the steering wheel. 
“See, isn’t this nice?” 
Your eyes prick as that rotting sensation in your chest overwhelms that voice in your head. You sniffle and touch your nose. You squirm as the cold seeps away to unbearable heat. Your denial melts under the flames of dread. 
“Sir-- Cole,” you twiddle your fingers. “Where are we going?” 
He chuckles and slows, turning to plant a kiss on your hair, “you’re going to come meet mom and dad. They are very excited to have you for Christmas.” He squeezes you even tighter, “not as excited as I am though.” 
Your chest hollows out as if you’ve been hit directly in the heart. You can’t breathe as it sets in. It’s absurd but there’s no other explanation. Did your daddy really trade you for a cartload of wood? 
Well, he always did love his cars more than you. You hope it’s a nice garage, that it’s worth it. Well, it would be worth more than his useless daughter. 
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scarletwinterxx · 2 months ago
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benefit of friends - kim mingyu imagine
god really made this man to be the most perfect one😭 how to get your own kim mingyu (asking for a friend) lol anyways hope you like this one!
for my other svt fics, check them here
if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛
All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.
(pic not mine, credits to rightful owner)
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You’ve always been good at compartmentalizing.
Work is work. Fun is fun. Feelings? Well, they’re like those receipts stuffed into your wallet... you’ll deal with them later.
Your arrangement with Mingyu, your ridiculously handsome coworker-turned-“friend-with-benefits,” was supposed to fall neatly into the “fun” category.
No strings, no expectations, no messy emotions.
But tonight, at the company dinner, you’re beginning to realize that neatly labeled boxes have a way of getting jumbled when Mingyu’s around.
The restaurant is buzzing with chatter, glasses clinking, and the hum of soft music in the background. His deep, warm laugh carries over the noise, drawing glances from everyone at your table. He’s always been effortlessly charming, with his broad shoulders, that perfect smile, and a sense of humor that’s impossible to resist.
And right now, someone else seems to have noticed.
A junior marketing associate, her name slips your mind, but she’s all bright eyes and flirty giggles. She's leaning just a little too close to him. Her hand grazes his arm as she laughs at something he said, and you swear you see her fingers linger there for a moment longer than necessary.
Your chest tightens, and you quickly take a sip of your wine, hoping the bitterness will drown the unfamiliar feeling clawing its way up your throat.
Jealousy.
It’s ridiculous, really. You and Mingyu aren’t together.
You’ve both made it clear: this is casual. Easy. No messy emotions, remember?
So why does it bother you so much when he leans in to whisper something to her, his grin widening as she laughs again?
“Are you okay?” a colleague asks, pulling you out of your spiral.
“Yeah, fine,” you reply, forcing a smile.
But your eyes can’t help darting back to Mingyu.
Later, as the group begins to thin out, people leaving one by one, you make your way to the bar for another drink.
You need something. Anything to steady your nerves. You’re swirling your glass idly when you feel someone slide onto the stool beside you.
“You’ve been awfully quiet tonight,” Mingyu says, his voice low and teasing.
You don’t turn to look at him immediately. “I’m just tired,” you lie.
“Hmm,” he hums, leaning a little closer. You can feel the warmth radiating off him, and it makes your heart race.
“Tired? Or… distracted?”
That gets your attention. You glance at him, and he’s watching you with that playful glint in his eye, like he already knows exactly what’s on your mind.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, feigning indifference.
“Oh, don’t you?” He grins, and it’s infuriatingly attractive. “You’ve been glaring daggers at poor Mina all night.”
So that’s her name. Mina.
“I wasn’t glaring,” you snap, a little too defensively.
He laughs softly, leaning even closer until his shoulder brushes yours. “You were. And, for the record, it was kind of cute.”
“I wasn’t jealous, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“Really?” His voice drops, and suddenly the air between you feels charged. “Because it looked a lot like jealousy to me.”
You turn to face him fully, ready to argue, but the words catch in your throat when you see the way he’s looking at you—intense, his eyes flicking briefly to your lips before meeting yours again.
“Mingyu,” you start, but your voice comes out softer than you intended.
“Relax,” he says, smirking. “I wasn’t interested in her, anyway.”
Your heart stumbles over itself, and you hate how much that admission makes your pulse race. “You’re insufferable,” you mutter, turning back to your drink.
“Maybe,” he says, his voice warm and teasing, “but you like me anyway.”
The car ride home is quieter than usual. Mingyu insisted on sharing a ride, though you suspect it’s less about convenience and more about prolonging the teasing
As the car pulls up to your apartment, you hesitate for a moment. You should say goodnight and leave it at that.
But when Mingyu’s hand brushes yours as he moves to open the door, your resolve wavers.
“Want to come up?” you ask, your voice casual, though your heart is anything but.
He smiles knowingly. “Thought you’d never ask.”
Your apartment feels smaller with Mingyu in it. The tension that’s been simmering all night seems to boil over as he follows you inside, his eyes lingering on you in a way that makes your stomach flip.
“You know,” he says, his tone teasing but softer now, “if you’re going to get jealous every time someone flirts with me, we might have to renegotiate this whole ‘just friends’ thing.”
“I wasn’t jealous,” you say again, though even you don’t believe it this time.
“Sure,” he says, stepping closer. “Whatever you say.”
You roll your eyes, but before you can come up with a retort, his hand cups your cheek, and suddenly you forget how to speak.
“Mingyu,” you whisper, but he cuts you off with a kiss—soft at first, almost tentative, before it deepens. His other hand finds your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you.
You don’t remember moving, but somehow you end up against the kitchen counter, his lips trailing down your neck as your hands tangle in his hair.
“You’re impossible,” you murmur, though it comes out more like a sigh.
“And yet,” he says, his breath warm against your skin, “you keep me around.”
His lips find yours again, and this time there’s no teasing, no games, just the kind of intensity that leaves you breathless and wondering how you ever thought you could keep this casual.
Later, as you lie tangled together on your couch, his arm draped lazily over your waist, you realize your carefully labeled boxes have completely unraveled.
And maybe, just maybe, you’re okay with that.
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It starts at a casual get-together with some of your friends. Mingyu wasn’t supposed to come. You invited him half-jokingly, figuring he’d have better things to do on a Friday night. But to your surprise, he’d shown up, effortlessly sliding into the group as if he’d always been part of it.
And now, you wish he hadn’t.
Not because you’re upset he’s here.
Far from it.
Mingyu has a way of making everything more fun. It’s just that you’re too aware of him, standing across the room, his eyes flicking to you every few seconds like he’s keeping tabs on you.
You’re talking to a guy.
what was his name again? Jae? Jin? Mingyu thought to hinself.
The guy has clearly been angling for your attention all night but you don’t notice. You’re oblivious to the way he leans a little too close when he speaks or the way his hand brushes yours unnecessarily as you reach for your drink.
Mingyu notices, though.
From his spot by the makeshift bar, he’s gripping his glass a little too tightly, his jaw clenched as he watches the scene unfold. He tells himself it’s fine—you’re not his, and he has no right to feel this way. But when Jae-or-whatever laughs a little too loud at something you’ve said, leaning in like he’s about to touch you, something snaps.
Before he knows it, he’s crossing the room.
“Hey,” Mingyu says, his voice smooth but laced with an edge as he steps between you and Jason, casually sliding his arm around your waist. “Didn’t realize you’d made a new friend.”
“Mingyu? What are you doing?” You blink up at him, surprised
“Just thought I’d check in,” he says, his grip on your waist tightening slightly. His gaze shifts to Jason, who suddenly looks less sure of himself. “Who’s this?”
Jason clears his throat. “Uh, I’m Joon. We were just talking.”
“Talking, huh?” Mingyu says, his smile sharp. “That’s nice. But I think she’s good here.”
“Mingyu—” you start, but he’s already steering you away, his hand firm on your lower back.
You glance back at Joon, who’s standing there awkwardly, but Mingyu doesn’t let you linger. He leads you out onto the balcony, where the cool night air hits your skin.
“What the hell was that?” you ask, spinning to face him.
“What was that?” he counters, his voice low and tense. “That guy was all over you.”
“He was not!” you protest. “We were just talking.”
“You’re so oblivious sometimes, you know that? He wasn’t just talking, he was hitting on you.”
You cross your arms, irritation bubbling up. “And what if he was? It’s not like you get to decide who I talk to.”
His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t say anything. Then he steps closer, the tension between you crackling like electricity.
“Maybe I don’t,” he says quietly, his voice dangerously calm. “But I didn’t like it.”
Your breath catches. His proximity, the intensity in his gaze—it’s overwhelming
“Why do you even care?” you ask, though your voice is softer now, less sure. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, and suddenly the world feels smaller, like it’s just the two of you on that balcony.
“You really don’t know, do you?”
Your heart pounds as he leans in, his forehead resting against yours
“I care,” he murmurs, his voice rough with something that feels too big to name, “because you’re mine.”
The words hang in the air, heavy and undeniable.
“Mingyu—”
He cuts you off with a kiss, his lips crashing against yours with a desperation that leaves you breathless. It’s not soft or tentative like before—it’s possessive, claiming, as if he’s trying to prove something to both of you.
You don’t resist. Instead, you pull him closer, your fingers fisting in the fabric of his shirt as his hands slide to your waist, gripping you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.
When you finally break apart, both of you breathing hard, he rests his forehead against yours again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know we said no feelings. No strings. But I can’t help it. I can’t stand the thought of anyone else having you.”
Your chest tightens, and for once, you don’t push him away. Instead, you reach up to trace the line of his jaw, your touch soft.
“You’re an idiot,” you say, but there’s no heat in your words. “But I guess you're my idiot.”
His smile is equal parts relief and triumph. “Damn right I am”
Back inside, the party continues without you, but neither of you cares. You end up in your apartment again, the tension between you finally boiling over.
This time, there’s no hesitation, no teasing. Just the two of you giving in to what’s been building for weeks. His hands are everywhere, mapping every inch of your skin like he’s memorizing you, and when you pull him down onto the couch, he follows without question.
“Say it again,” he murmurs against your neck, his voice rough and low as his lips trail downward.
“Say what?” you manage, your breath hitching as his hands slide under your shirt.
“That you’re mine,” he says, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. There’s something vulnerable in his gaze, hidden beneath all the confidence.
You cup his face, your thumb brushing over his cheek. “I’m yours,” you whisper, and the way his expression softens makes your heart ache.
“Good,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “Because I’m yours too.”
And this time, when he kisses you, it feels like a promise.
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