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#I can't wait to get them working again - even if I have to sink a few hundred into repairs it'll be well worth it
halcyone-of-the-sea · 8 months
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I never really share anything personal on here because I'm a pretty private person, but there's something so profound about getting passed down my Grandpa's old camera collection.
Like what do you mean he took pictures of my Grandma with them 30+ years ago? That the A-1 Canon that's now in my room was the camera that took my parents' wedding photos? I stuck a roll of film into the same place he did? The thought of him loving photography as much as I do is the most tear-jerking emotion I've ever experienced even if we're not that close.
I just got the A-1 Canon working again after upwards of 20 years of being unused and sitting in a cupboard. Hearing the shutter go off as I took a picture of my dog was something special, and I don't even think I can describe it in a way that makes sense. It was like I was holding my own family history in my hands.
I was genuinely surprised it was in such good condition in the first place - I barely had to do anything other than look over it to make sure nothing was broken and mess with a few areas of concern. My grandpa kept his A-1 in immaculate condition despite his pretty bad health; the same with his other cameras as well.
As much as I want to keep them all in a glass case and have them stay perfect, I can't imagine not using them the same way he did. Of course, up until I have to retire them for my own kids to use one day in just as pristine a state.
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highvern · 2 months
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When in Rome
Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x f!reader
Genre: fluff, smut, angst
warnings: alcohol consumption, cheating, nudity, mentions of drug use, explicit sexual acts (unprotected sex, dirty talk, oral, swallowing)
Length: ~24k
Note: excited to have this for the @svthub world tour collab! thank u to @gyuswhore for helping, @wonuvs for fact checking my shitty italian, @the-boy-meets-evil for making sure i actually finished this fic bc i live to torture her and everyone else who contributed to this over the months it took me to finally write it!
this is from cheol's pov which was a new challenge but i loved it (i will never do it again). i'll be out of town when this goes up but can't wait to read everyone's feed back!!!
Summary: After months of no contact, Seungcheol isn't sure what to expect when he sees you again at Jeonghan's wedding. He's prepared to apologize, to grovel, to bear the weight of a cold shoulder. Whatever it takes to have you back, his best friend since diapers; or whatever will ensure the last third of your trio has the best day of his life. But when he overhears the most recent development in your relationship, he must come to terms with something he was never prepared for, or risk losing you for good.
m.list
This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.
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There are fewer places Seungcheol hates more than airports. Dentist offices, his grandparents’ house during the holidays when they ask about grandkids, and even the time he ran into his elementary school science teacher the first time he was buying condoms at the pharmacy, all were more favorable than the hustle and bustle of an international airport. 
Seungcheol likes to be straightforward and direct. Something that becomes seemingly at odds with the average person traveling because at the one place everyone has somewhere to be, they act as if they have all the time in the world.
But the simple thought that it's all temporary, that his personal ninth circle of hell is the only thing standing between him and a week in Italy is enough to grin and bear it. 
On the other side of the terminal, his best friends are waiting for him. It’s not as if they haven’t seen each other for long; Jeonghan and Sofie were at bar trivia last week as their last hurrah before tying the knot. As usual they wiped the floor with everyone, rousing several allegations of cheating that Jeonghan deserved. But Seungcheol is about to watch them get married and it makes him a little misty around the eyes because he loves his friends more than anything. 
The only concern, which is less of a concern and more of a titanic size anchor sinking in his gut, is that you’re one of Sofie’s bridesmaids. And you haven’t spoken to him since New Years when you revealed you were moving to New York with your boyfriend, Johnny.
Another place Seungcheol dreads, right next to the airport, is anywhere Johnny happens to be. He’s everything you aren’t: abrasive, arrogant, catty, disorganized. And those are just the traits at the front of the alphabet. 
You had a plan. A list of criteria he had to listen to over and over again after each failed date. Even the guys Seungcheol set you up with after carefully vetting didn’t seem to make the mark. It was respectable, commendable. You wouldn’t settle for anything less than “perfect.” Whatever that meant to you. 
At a bar, three years ago, Johnny approached you. Seungcheol watched from across the table as you mentally ran over your checklist. Johnny met the physical ones: tall, good hygiene, well kept appearance. The other things would need more investigation. What did he do for work? Was he close with his family? Kids? Opinions on cheating at bar trivia?
The more Seungcheol learned about Johnny after your detailed debrief from a few dates the more confused he became. Johnny worked in banking. You hated finance bros and called them scum of the dating pool. He was an only child and only talked to his parents on holidays and birthdays. You had grand dreams of close grandparents and houses full of cousins. He didn’t want kids. You did. He didn’t think bar trivia was that serious. Seungcheol watched you threaten Jeonghan’s life on more than one occasion over the use of Shazam during the music round. Johnny was everything you said you didn’t want. 
And then you followed him across the country after two years of dating cut with three breakups. 
It didn’t make sense. 
When Seungcheol pulled you aside after you announced you’d be moving, trying to figure why you thought living with the man who once asked if you really needed to wash bath towels if you only use them when you’re already clean, you told him to mind his business. Later that night, after enough drinks to make everything blurry, you two got into a screaming match on the sidewalk with your shared friends attempting to play referee. It was the last time you two spoke. 
In over twenty five years of friendship, founded on the backs of elementary school shenanigans under a reign of terror of one Jeonghan Yoon, you and Seungcheol’s real fights can be counted on one hand. 
The sixth grade field trip where you and Jeonghan left him out, senior year of highschool when the girl Seungcheol took to prom argued about his parents taking more pictures with you than her, and junior year of college when Seungcheol caught you making out with his frat brother after ditching him under the guise of having a stomach bug. That was it. Three fights, all of which were resolved within a week because as stubborn as you both are, you’re best friends. 
Five and a half months of not speaking, except when you called Seungcheol in the middle of the night without leaving a message and when he tried calling you back in the morning you didn’t answer. Not until a month later when he finally swallowed his pride and texted a half hearted apology to which you responded with a quarter of forgiveness. That was it. 
But Seungcheol won’t dwell. He refuses to make things awkward for Jeonghan and Sofie during the most special week of their lives. Knowing you, you’ve probably already come to the same resolution. The only person you’re closer to than Seungcheol is Jeonghan with Sofie a close second. If there is anyone you two will agree to put aside an argument for, it's them.
The sun has already begun setting when he makes it through customs and out towards the Arrivals, painting everything in buttery yellow. 
“SEUNGCHEOOOOOOOOOLLLLLL!” Sofie screams, hands cupped around her mouth.
She’s half outside the cherry red sports car. An Intermeccanica Italia Spyder because Seungcheol knows three things in life: expensive watches, expensive whiskey, and expensive cars. Sofie’s family happened to have plenty of the last and Seungcheol assumed the first two as well.
When Sofie became his study partner in law school she ended up following him on Instagram. He assumed from the way she carried herself, perfect posture with tailored clothes and an ‘air of society’ as you called it, that she was well off. But then, during a late night gossip session, you and he did a deep dive and found out Sofie wasn’t just well off. Her family had more money than God. 
But everything on the surface was a contrast to who Sofie really was. Heiress to a fortune but studied more than anyone in their class just to graduate second. Perfect posture and tailored clothes are a stark contrast to her favorite bar where she’d outdrink anyone, and cheer when the prize for trivia was cheap plastic margarita glasses.
Or right now, where she belts Seungcheol’s name again like some drunk frat boy while sitting in a car worth more than his life.
Seungcheol jogs to where she waits, already smiling. 
“I would have brought a ‘Welcome back from rehab’ sign but my mom thought you’d be embarrassed,” Sofie says as she hugs him over the console. 
“At least make it ‘welcome home from prison’ so people won’t walk in my way.”
“I’ll make sure Jeonghan remembers you have a preference,” she calls over the wind. 
Technically, the house (which is really a mansion) is almost an hour from the airport. With Sofie’s driving it only takes twenty minutes in which Seungcheol thinks he might need to start going to church. 
The pebbled driveway crunches underneath the tires as they approach the imposing building he’d call home for the weekend.
In the evening light, the house is more daunting. An imposing stone facade rises from the ground, akin to a small castle than an actual home. Smooth stone with detailed carvings, windows with huge shutters, and on the top floor, a balcony, fenced with wrought iron, juts out.
Even after years of seeing pictures, Seungcheol still can’t believe his friend grew up here. He can’t believe it actually exists and isn’t some set from a historical drama.
Sofie throws the car in park right in front of the door before jumping out. 
“By the way, there were some issues with one of the rooms.” Sofie drops her voice, “My aunt and uncle are fighting again, so I hope you don’t mind sharing?”
Seungcheol knows most of the guys coming to the wedding. Worst case scenario he’s stuck in a twin size bunk bed with a weird cousin. And with how busy he’ll be as best man, his room will be for sleep and not much else. “Yeah, that’s fine.”
“Perfect! Just leave your stuff, everyones out back.” Sofie pushes him as hard as she can manage which isn’t much at all given she’s five foot nothing. 
The garden is filled with bodies upon bodies crowded together, some old, some young. Seungcheol recognizes a few faces in the mix: Soonyoung, Joshua, Seungkwan. More friends from law school. Jeonghan’s sister waves from across the way. Everyone seems to be paying attention to whatever is happening at the iron garden table. 
And then, like a scene in a movie, everyone parts for a second and time freezes. 
Seungcheol would recognize you anywhere. Even if he can’t see your face, he knows it's you. The curve of your shoulders, the tilt of your head. The bark of laughter as your chin drops forward. He knows it's you and the weight in his stomach lightens and leadens in an odd cycle.
He missed you.
Then everything comes back into real time. Wine and cards. Then he sees the chips on the table, your stack to the side significantly higher than anyone else's. 
Months of ruminating over what he’d do when reunited fly out the window. Seungcheol doesn’t waste a minute as he approaches, hand on the back of your chair as he peeks over your head to sneak a glance at your hand.
“Who let you talk them into poker?”
You’re already smiling when you tilt back to look at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 
Oh, how he missed you.
“She said she didn’t know how to play,” an old man grumbles from the side. 
Seungcheol doesn’t recognize him but he’s got the same expression as all the people you’ve sharked before: mildly impressed and slightly murderous. Two other guys sit at the table, one old enough to be his grandfather looks almost proud. Seokmin fills that last seat, head in his hands at being swindled so easily. 
“I said,” you start, throwing your gaze to him. “I hadn’t played in a while.” 
You look back up at Seungcheol for some kind of support. Eyes round and innocent in a way you both know you’re not. Pool, cards, darts, any game a man a few drinks in could beat you at was easy fodder for your con. Usually it ended with free drinks, sometimes money, but mostly it’s Seungcheol playing referee for the disillusioned guys you swindled while wearing a bright grin. 
Tossing a few chips towards the three men at table with a smart ‘don’t spend it all in one place,’ you rise and throw your arms around Seungcheol like everything is normal. 
“Hi,” you whisper into his neck.
Seungcheol’s hands are already curled around your waist, pulling you in tight. “Hi.”
“I missed you.”
Seungcheol doesn’t think to question the sudden rush of familiarity after months of silence. Every fight in your long friendship ended this way; you both stew and stew until one day things snap back to normal. It’s how it’s always been.
“I see that you can’t even greet your best friend.” Jeonghan coughs from the side.
Seungcheol squeezes you tighter at the jab. It’s Jeonghan’s wedding but Seungcheol saw him last week when dropping the couple off at the airport to come here. He’s far more interested in dragging out his reunion with you as long as possible. “I’m in the middle of that actually.”
He scoffs in response, walking away. “Whatever, I see too much of you anyway.” 
There’s glasses of wine waiting when you break apart. Seungcheol keeps closeby, not that you seem eager to go anywhere. His staring is obvious but he doesn’t care. You’re really here and the cold shoulder he expected to find is nowhere to be found.
Another two hours of celebrating, filled with drunken toasts and more card games with Sofie’s family that only end with you digging into their pockets even deeper, fly by before the exhaustion of a day starting in one continent and ending in another catches up to him. You’re too busy arguing over if Jeonghan cheated in the last round to notice Seungcheol slipping away from the table and towards the door leading inside.
Sofie is in the kitchen just beyond, another bottle of wine sloshing in hand as she talks animatedly on the phone. “Okay, look. I am on vacation. I’m about to get married. I literally left notes for everything I'm not working on during my wedding week. Figure it out. Bye.”
She hangs up without response, tossing her phone on the counter before taking a swig straight from the bottle.
“Good?” Seungcheol asks.
“Oh, you know, just the usual. I leave and suddenly no one knows how to do their job.” Sofie rolls her eyes. “What’s up? Need another glass?”
She raises the same bottle and the thought of more wine nearly turns his stomach.  
Seungcheol brushes her off, moving to the sink and rinsing his glass with finality. “I think I’m gonna crash for the night.”
“Really?” she asks. “But the party just started!”
“For you maybe, some of us have been cramped on a plane all day.” He feels it. In his back and knees. The cramp in his neck from passing out halfway through and waking up bent at ninety degrees. And the hours he spent agonizing through emails with the inflight WiFi because even on vacation he can’t sit still for more than one minute. But now it’s a ticking time bomb before he curls up in a chair and passes out until morning.
Sofie snatches his glass before shooing him away from the sink and taking his place. “I forgot you’re an old man now.”
“You’re the same age as me?”
“Anyway,” she sings. “I know we promised you’d have your own room but—”
“That’s fine. I really don’t mind rooming with one of the guys.”
“Well… you and Y/N were the only ones not sharing and she said she wouldn’t mind for the weekend.”
“Huh?”
“I thought it wouldn’t be a big deal! Seokmin and Kwan agreed to share and room with Josh so things are pretty tight but I can see if we can switch things around and—”
“No, if she’s okay with it then it's fine.” Seungcheol says. “We just haven’t talked since, you know?”
Sofie seems to soften at that. “I know. But it looked like everything was fine outside.”
“Yeah,” Seungcheol sighs. “I missed her.” 
“I know she missed you too.”
“She said that?”
“Oh please, neither of you have to say anything, you’re both pathetic,” she says while pouring another glass. “But I think this weekend will be good for you guys! Like old times.”
Old times. Before the fight. Before you moved away.
“Yeah, just like old times… At least we aren’t sharing a bed, right?” He jokes. 
“Actually,” Sofie grimaces. 
The one solace Seungcheol is gifted is the bed is massive. Almost the entire room is dominated by the plush mattress, a dresser, and a chair in the corner. He considers sleeping in that instead for all of a minute before realizing you probably wouldn’t let him and the absolute torture it’ll do to his neck. 
At least the forced proximity won’t be awkward since you’ve silently agreed to leave the past behind you. He can’t imagine Sofie would consider this solution if you were still mad at him, even if it was her wedding week. The realization lightens the weight on his shoulders an ounce more.
Seungcheol throws his bag down at the foot of the bed. It’s no big deal; sharing a room with you. Childhood sleepovers had been the norm, a few nights in college you’d shared a clunky old twin bed when you both were too drunk to find your ways home separately. Your first apartment together, when you two had to share a mattress on the floor for the first weeks because all your money went into paying rent, flash in his head. Old times.
Thirty minutes later, freshly showered and in clean clothes, Seungcheol heads back downstairs for a glass of water before bed.
He remembers where the kitchen is after Sofie’s short tour, trapezing through the huge house easily. Behind different closed doors he catches glimpses of pre-sleep conversations: couples spitting harsh whispers to each other, a few cartoonish voices reading bedtime stories to an audience of childish giggles. But when he reaches the threshold of his destination Seungcheol stumbles into an entirely different atmosphere.
“You haven’t told him yet?”
“No. I didn’t feel like the kind of thing to say over text,” you whisper.
“Well you could have called him!”
“And say what? ‘Hey Cheol, I know we haven’t talked in months because we got into a huge fight about my boyfriend but Johnny and I–’”
Seungcheol strains his ears to hear the rest of your sentence but fails to decipher anything before Jeonghan’s voice cuts in. Whatever ‘it’ is, you seem keen on keeping it a secret.
“Just tell him.” Jeonghan says through a mouthful of something. “I’m sure he’ll be happy.”
His mind races with a million possibilities, all related to Johnny, all things you wouldn’t have told your best friend of over twenty years because of some stupid fight. Something you don’t know how to tell him over the phone, something you need to tell in person.
The realization strikes like lightning.
You and Johnny are engaged.
Thirst forgotten, Seungcheol turns back the way he came. He thinks through the new information as he stumbles up the stairs.
How could you not tell him? How could he make you feel like you couldn’t tell him? How long have you been hiding this? And why did Jeonghan and Sofie know before he did? Was everyone in on the secret and he was the odd man out?
You and Johnny weren’t even that serious when you moved away; or, that's what Seungcheol thought. In all honesty he fully believed it was some joke when you told him. A drunken practical joke taken too far but you didn’t laugh when he did. There was no punchline to share. The boxes were packed away and then the moving truck came and you left with it. 
Everything else hits him in the seclusion of the bedroom. Your shared room. He doesn’t even have the luxury of coming to terms with your latest surprise in private. 
Seungcheol isn’t happy. He is, but because you’re you, argument aside. The past few months are the longest you’ve ever gone without each other and seeing you again lifted a weight off his chest he’d come accustomed to in months of silence. 
It’s an easy decision. If Johnny makes you happy enough to tie your lives together then Seungcheol can bite his tongue. You’re his best friend and by default he’d never think anyone was good enough for you but if you loved Johnny, if you were this serious about him, then Seungcheol would support you.
Even if it meant there would always be a Johnny sized ravine between you.
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Seungcheol wakes far before the sun breaches the horizon. The room still washed in the shadows of early dawn grants him some peace to think over his own conflicts with the news, your quiet snores a backing track from across the bed.
On your side facing him, Seungcheol gets the first good look at you in what feels like forever. Even with the size of the bed barely a foot of space separates your bodies. You hand twisted in the hem of his shirt like even in your sleep you can’t stand to be apart more than necessary.
You look ridiculous; hair a mess and limbs splayed. But your face is soft in sleep, eyelashes fanned on your cheeks and lips in a pout. 
There’s an odd flutter in his stomach. He wasn't lying when he said he missed you. But now things are complicated. 
He hadn’t slept at all last night; mind constantly replaying the conversation he heard in the kitchen, formulating his reaction when you finally let him in on the ‘surprise.’
Perhaps under different circumstances he wouldn’t struggle with news. Seungcheol wants you to be happy. Johnny is the problem in the scenario. They never got along, barely spoke outside of the few times forced circumstances required them to. Seungcheol was polite. Johnny was polite. 
Seungcheol wanted to kill him and he’s certain Johnny felt the same.
Relationships naturally take priority over time but Johnny seemed to creep in and choke Seungcheol out of all the places he’d been firmly planted for years. Another reason he isn’t happy.
Monday night Bachelor? Canceled, because Johnny plays beer league softball with his friends and you started going to that.
No more sleepovers at Seungcheol’s after a night out because ‘it makes Johnny uncomfortable.’ Fair complaint. Seungcheol wouldn’t appreciate his girlfriend sleeping over at a guy's house after drinking if the roles were reversed. But Seungcheol isn’t some guy and you were his best friend before you were Johnny’s girlfriend.
Traditions at Christmas felt hollow without you. The first one you spent meeting Johnny’s family in Minnesota you texted Seungcheol the entire time about how cold it was, how they were a 5k on a holiday type family despite the fact there was three feet of snow outside. 
All small details that mean everything to Seungcheol, never meant as much to you. 
And that’s why he doesn’t like Johnny. Because he made Seungcheol realize that.
It’s not that you and Johnny didn’t work. Seungcheol just couldn’t wrap his head around why you wanted to overlook all the glaring differences to make it work.
But pointing that out left him with a cold shoulder lasting six months so he plans to keep his mouth shut.
You tried talking to him before bed but gave up when he pretended to be asleep. It took everything he had not to give in and talk into the early morning. Six months was more than enough ground to cover for you two to catch up; he was promoted, you had an entirely new life in another city that he wanted to hear all about. His insane neighbor from across the hall, who you both are sure sells drugs, is actually a preschool teacher (mysteries of the universe). And he knows you probably have kooky neighbors of your own in New York.
But, in all honesty, he didn’t want to hear stories with Johnny’s name attached. Wasn’t ready to hear you say you’re engaged. It’s one thing to know it. But the second the words leave your lips then it’s real. Then Johnny is here to stay and it's only a matter of time before you two are arguing again.
Especially when everything said months ago was still fresh in his mind. Words he’d stand by no matter what. But Seungcheol has figured out that there are conversations he’s allowed to have with you and ones that should never see the light of day if your friendship is to survive. Johnny is one, the other is a memory from college that remains vivid no matter how hard he tries to forget.
But this weekend wasn’t about you and him, it's about Sofie and Jeonghan. If Seungcheol can dive into focusing on them, maybe he’ll survive.
Today is the one day reserved for sightseeing before ‘the inevitably disorganized shit show of an Italian wedding’ as Sofie puts it. 
Seungcheol has already seen some of the big things thanks to his study abroad in undergrad: the Colosseum, the Trevi Fountain, the Pantheon. So for today, he'll stick by whatever you want to do. You’re the building nerd architect.
When he finally finds the willpower to roll away, carefully extracting your grip on him before ducking from the sheets, you stir enough to release a sleepy whine in protest before burying back under the blanket. 
It’s odd but he notices you’re not wearing a ring. Seungcheol looked closely if you took it off before bed but nothing stands out in the bathroom or on the dresser. He assumes you took it off to make the weekend about Sofie and Jeonghan rather than yourself. It’s something you would do. Or maybe it’s at the jeweler’s for repairs. Maybe Johnny had gaudy taste and bought a ring so flashy you refused to wear it. 
Seungcheol doesn’t know but it strikes him as strange.
The kitchen is already bustling with life even at such an early hour. Family and friends trickle in one by one, joining Seungcheol at the table with cups of coffee and munching on fruit and biscuits as their hangovers ebb. Quickly, the peace he preserved in the early quiet melts into loud laughter and a million buzzing conversations.
You melt into the chair beside him, eyes barely open as you snag his cup and scowl after finding it already drained.
“Coffee?” you mumble.
Seungcheol pushes his plate of unfinished fruit and a half finished pastry you way. “Sofie’s mom is brewing more. But it’s strong.”
“Oh trust me, I know,” you say around a mouthful of jam and dough. “I drank a full cup the first day I got here and felt like Sonic.”
“That’s how you know it’s good.”
“You’re insane.”
“What are your plans for today?”
“So there's this church, the Santa Maria Sopra della Minerva. It’s near the Pantheon!” you ramble, peeling another orange. “It’s just beautiful and it's got a statue by Michelangelo next to the altar and the design is incredible.”
Seungcheol can’t help but laugh at your enthusiasm. A city filled with ancient buildings and history is right up your alley. 
He remembers how you pouted when he came back from his trip in college after yours to Venice was canceled due to ‘not enough student interest.’ The only thing that managed to quell your anger was all the pictures Seungcheol took with you in mind. Close ups of the tiniest details about ancient designs tour guides pointed out to disinterested business majors but he knew you’d care if you’d been there. If you were there then you’d probably be leading the tour yourself whether the guide liked it or not.
“Mind if I come with?” he asks over his fresh cup of coffee.
“Duh,” you roll your eyes with a smile. “I waited for you to get here to go.”
Sofie’s uncle, the one not under threat of murder by his wife, agrees to drive you both out. He drives at full speed from the second he hits the gas pedal. With the windows down. The breeze is as nice as a wind tunnel and cuts off everything Zio Berto tries to point out except for his screams at other drivers. 
On the other side of the back seat, you’re turning green. Seungcheol is glad the window is already down because if you get sick, he will too. And Sofie would refuse any payment for the cleaning fee, Seungcheol is morally opposed to ruining such a nice car with vomit.
The city whips past outside the windows, cobblestone streets slowly growing more crowded as the car edges closer to the center city. Berto finally slows down to avoid pedestrians and mopeds but only by a fraction. He doesn’t seem to share Seungcheol’s concern about body fluids clashing with the car design.
Finally, after what feels like a century, the car jerks to a stop. You don’t even pretend to be polite and exit immediately, hands on your knees while dry heaving for air.
“I’ll be around. Have fun!” Berto calls from the driver's seat. “Call me when you’re ready to head back.”
Seungcheol waves him off and when he turns back where you were standing, you’re already gone; circling the elephant obelisk in the center of the cobblestone courtyard.
“Isn’t it so cool?” You gush, snapping photos.
The exterior of the building is unassuming. Flat sandstone brick without much detail but you see the things that are important. In a few minutes you’ll be in tour guide mode, pointing out the smallest crack no one would see unless they already studied the church's history in depth.
“Soooo cool,” he jests. He appraises the statue with you, turning his head this way and that. 
You slap his shoulder, “Don’t be a jerk!”
“Okay, okay. Give me the tour.”
“It was built on the ruins of a temple of Isis.”
“Okay, and why the elephant?”
“The obelisk was taken from the Church of San Stefano del Cacco down that way,” you point. “It's originally from Sais in Egypt but got moved all the way here. The elephant was commissioned by the pope to display it based on a book that was popular at the time.”
“Interesting.” 
You point at the inscription on the plinth before continuing, “that’s from the book.”
Sapientis Aegypti insculptas obelisco figuras ab elephanto, belluarum fortissima, gestari quisquis hic vides, documentum intellege robustae mentis esse solidam sapientiam sustinere.
“Whoever you are, who sees here the figures of the Egyptian wise man carved on the obelisk carried by the elephant, the strongest of wild animals, understand the symbolism to be that a strong mind supports firm wisdom,” you translate. 
“I didn’t know you read latin.”
“I don’t. It’s in English on the other side,” you laugh. “But I do know, the guy who designed the statue made it look like it's farting because the pope told him to change the design from what he originally wanted.”
“Really?”
“Yep. He said having it stand on four legs was dangerous so the sculptor added the saddle and a cube at the base, but he also made its butt face the convent so the friars would have to see its ass every time they came out.”
“Wow.”
Seungcheol circles the statue and sure enough the tail is angled to look like it's blowing wind.
“I’m pretty sure it’s a lie but I’d like to think people were that petty hundreds of years ago. Now all people do is subtweet and post vague Instagram stories. I want someone to hate me so much they design an entire statue just to minorly inconvenience me each morning.”
You’re fully of facts Seungcheol would never know. It’s one of the best parts of visiting places with you. It’s not just some building or some random statue. You give the architecture a new life.
Seungcheol’s mind flashes back to the first time he accompanied you and Johnny to a monument back home. In the five minutes you’d been there, he realized Johnny truly did not care about your interests.
The look on your face that day told him you realized Johnny didn’t care either.
It’s the same pact everyone that moves to D.C. makes to visit all the museums and monuments and landmarks. Good intentions with zero realistic goals. Except you’re stubborn and the drive to say you did something means Seungcheol has tagged along to thirty out of the one hundred and fifteen on your list. Johnny missed most either from work trips or some other excuse and the one Seungcheol missed had been the only one Johnny came to because of the flu.
Safe to say the first time visiting together was a shit show. Johnny didn’t pretend to evaluate the ‘important’ parts, didn’t ask questions or bother reading the placards detailing events of significance, raced through the entire thing to leave you and Seungcheol behind. It’s not like you or Seungcheol were overwhelmed with beauty and needed hours but Johnny finished his round after less than thirty minutes and told you to text him when you were done. 
So Seungcheol did the only thing he could to get back at Johnny without upsetting you: walked as slow as possible, pointing out things he knew you’d know more about, and dragging things out so Johnny was stuck waiting in the frigid winter wind outside to suffer.
You knew what he was doing, obvious from the way you hook your arm through his and give an affection squeeze. Your smile didn’t reach your eyes but you both pushed through.
Thank whatever powers be that Johnny wasn’t here now.
“See the windows?” you ask, pointing to the three different sized circular windows hanging over the main doorways. 
“Yeah,” he nods.
“Well you can’t tell from here but they’re rose tinted.”
Seungcheol tries to see what you’re talking about but the windows are dark and covered in some kind of lacquer that makes them look gray and dusty rather than pink.
“And why is that important, Professor Y/L/N?”
“Because it’s the only medieval church in Rome like that!” 
You continue rambling off facts, talking a mile a minute as your point at different things and walk Seungcheol around the exterior. A few other people's ears perk up as you go on about how the details had been done over and over; first Romanesque, then Gothic then, some guy named Carlo Maderno added Baroque designs inside, and friars who put in stained glass windows.
By the time you take a breath, the crowd has taken a closer interest in the windows and the elephant statue due to your brief history. A few look at the flood plaques which are some of the best preserved records the city has.
Seungcheol hangs onto every word. He doesn’t care about the old church, it’s an interesting bit of history sure but he could be outside any church in Rome and have the same reaction. He cares about the church because you care. And your passion about old windows and flood markers make it the most interesting place in the world right now.
“Go stand on the steps so I can take your picture,” you demand.
“Do I have to?” Seungcheol jokingly complains.
“Just go.”
Seungcheol poses as you direct, flashing a few silly poses you laugh at. He manages to wrangle you into taking a few photos as well. Ones that will probably be sent to your mom and never see the light of day other than her Facebook. Your Instagram is reserved for, in order: buildings, animals, food, and the rare picture of you with friends at some sort of occasion (wedding, graduation, the time Jeonghan broke his leg drunk on a city scooter and ended up in the ER). 
You’re in the middle of pretending to hold the Leaning Tower of Pisa when someone approaches Seungcheol.
“Would you like us to take your photo?” an elderly woman asks. She is a quintessential tourist: fanny pack, camera around her neck, sun burnt around the ears. A man in a matching shirt approaches with her, donning the same gear and pink tinge. Seungcheol recognizes them from a few minutes prior when you gave your lecture about elephant butts and petty sculptors.
“Sure, thank you.”
He hands over his phone and joins you on the steps. You both pose like normal adults, smiles plastered on your face while Seungcheol gives you bunny ears and you pull his hair.
“Beautiful couple!”
“Oh, we’re not…” You both object.
“We’re on our second honeymoon.” The man croons at his wife, chuffed when she rolls her eyes and focuses on the camera screen. “You two?”
“We’re here for a wedding.”
“Wow! Married in Rome,” the wife gasps. “How romantic.”
It isn’t the first time you two have been mistaken for a couple. Anytime you’re with him or Jeonghan someone assumes you’re dating. Occasionally, you’d play it up, make an entire story about how you met, how long you’ve been together, biting your tongues the entire time as each detail is more ludicrous than the last.
Jeonghan takes the cake as the most ridiculous. Two tornado chasers that ran into each other ten years ago and never let go. Him and Seungcheol, not you. Which really threw the waitress off. Never mind the fact you all were sophomores in college, high as kites and stuffing yourselves full of hashbrowns in a greasy spoon diner for Seungcheol’s birthday.
“Did you two meet here?” the husband asks.
“Oh no, we actually met in a competitive bowling league,” you fib, wrapping your arm through Seungcheol’s.
What the hell?
“Romantic!” The wife belts like she actually believes nothing could inspire love like sharing shoes with countless strangers and cheap beer.
Seungcheol would take the piss under any other circumstances. Except this time you’re actually engaged and the last time you two pretend to be a couple was when you fake proposed to him in a fancy restaurant to score free champagne and dessert to celebrate the end of law school.
“Would you mind taking a few of us?” the man asks.
You snap a few pictures on the wife’s phone and after more coos of ‘romantic!’ and a few thank yous they melt into the crowd.
“Alright, let's go inside.”
“Lead the way.” Seungcheol feels more awkward than before, cheeks red but not from the sun beating down
Upon entering the church, he discovers the inside is much more interesting than the outside. Holy water stoups are held up by marble. Two statues flank the entrance. There’s more things to see than Seungcheol’s brain can handle but he follows behind you, mind lingering on the scene outside.
“‘My husband’?” Seungcheol asks.
“What? We won’t see them again. Who cares?”
Probably your own fiancé but just as Seungcheol opens his mouth a priest silences him with a sharp, “SHH!”
Passing through a high stone archway, you enter the nave. The ceiling, cobalt and gold with motifs of  biblical figures and cherubs, rises high above. 
“Look!” you whisper. “Isn’t it cool?”
Your point at a marble Jesus wearing a bronze loin cloth.
Cool isn’t the word he’d choose but he goes with it.
“Michelangelo started it but two other people had to finish it for him.”
“Oh.”
“But people still call it Michelangelo’s statue because it’s more impressive. Besides, he did most of it before his apprentice took over.”
He observes the paintings and statues, the stone work that bulges from the walls like they’re trying to come alive and escape their immortal capture. There’s even a tomb and shrine with incredible detail. 
It takes two hours to see everything and another thirty minutes to make your way out of the church because you both keep catching missed signs or there's some tiny piece of the ceiling with an odd detail.
He missed this.
Outside, you open your phone and look at the message from Sofie. She made the recommendation to come down here and gave an extensive list of everything else to be done in the area. There’s so many options it would take at least a week to see half of them.
“This hotel has a rooftop restaurant that’s supposed to have a good view of St. Peters,” you say.
The restaurant would have a great view of the city, if it wasn’t shut down for renovations. The staff don’t even let you near the elevator before you’re both swept outside and back on the street.
“Well…” Seungcheol starts.
“Should we call Berto?”
He doesn’t want to. Partially because Berto’s driving might kill him and also because he doesn’t want to end his time with you just yet. One of the things he missed about you living in the same city was weekends in museums for hours. Now that he has it again, he hesitates to cut the time short.
“Wait, I think we’re near one of the parks we visited when I came in college.”
“Oh my god,” you gasp sarcastically. “Did you study abroad? I never knew!”
“Shut up.”
Seungcheol pulls out his phone and dials Berto’s number. “Hey, Berto. No, we're good, everything is fine. But I was wondering how far away is Villa Borghese from us? Oh really? Would you be able to come drop us off? Awesome. Thanks man.”
“Well?”
“He’ll be here in five.”
Five minutes turns into fifteen and in that time Seungcheol burns out. Jetlag and the dull thrums of city streets make him sleepy. You sit in front of him on a bench outside the church. He thought he was better at hiding it but he’s pretty sure if he sits down, he’ll fall asleep.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask once Berto arrives. “We can go back to the house if you want.”
There’s an unofficial official itinerary for today.
Anything before four is fair game. After that there is a welcome cocktail party at a fancy restaurant in the city one of the De Luca’s family friends own.
If Seungcheol doesn’t go home now then it’ll be a close call to nap and shower in time. Not that Sofie is exceptionally punctual about things like that but Seungcheol is.
“I don’t want you not to see stuff just because I’m tired.”
“Cheol, I’ve been here all week with Sofie and Han. I promise this was the only thing left on my list of stuff to do. Anything else would have been a bonus.”
“Only if you're sure.”
“We can always come back again. I’m pretty sure Sofie’s mom is decorating a room for me.”
Yeah, because most men are fine with their fiancée taking international trips with another man. Not that you’d listen or Johnny has the balls to say something about it. But Seungcheol knows the chances of coming back here together, like this, are slim to nonexistent.
“Alright. But you can’t bring it up in an argument.”
“I can and I will.” The corner of you mouth twitches as your head shakes before opening the back seat for him. “Now get in the car, old-timer.” 
Seungcheol falls asleep on your shoulder in a blink. Berto is quiet (or the open windows drown him out enough that Seungcheol can pretend) and the heat of your body next to his lulls his heart. It’s not a peaceful rest and his neck is killing him by the time Berto pulls into the driveway, but it’s nice.
Seungcheol beelines for the bathroom while you slip into the kitchen. Something about centerpieces or napkins or tablecloths; he isn’t really sure but Sofie’s mom says it's urgent so he goes upstairs alone, showers in record time, and dives under the covers.
His dreams are filled with blue and gold elephants, He wakes to the sound of your voice blended with the sound of water.
You’re singing. More so humming some off key melody that bounces off the shower tiles and echoes straight into his brain. It drags him in that liminal space between waking and dreaming where anything is possible. Maybe he’s still dreaming. Of you and him, back when you shared an apartment and things weren’t so complicated. When there weren’t secrets and omissions and he didn’t have to bite his tongue.
His eyes stay closed, refusing to budge until the last minute.
The shower turns off but the humming continues, louder now that you’re out of the bathroom and collecting your things.
You must think Seungcheol is still asleep because when his eyes slit open, only enough to decipher your hazy silhouette, you’re in nothing but a towel. A very very tiny towel that hides nothing but the necessary bits and even then only barely. 
He can’t wake up now. Not when you bend over to look in your suitcase for Seungcheol closed his eyes just in time. But it doesn’t stop his brain from latching on to every sound in the quiet of the room; the humming tickling across your lips, the wet thump! of your towel on the ground. Oh god, now you’re not even wearing a towel. 
Seungcheol won’t be that friend. He never has. Or has always tried not to be. But teenage hormones make a young boy’s brain untamable so it’d be a lie to say he’s never thought of you like that. But despite his feelings, Seungcheol has made sure they never became a factor in your friendship.
Even though there is a peace of his soul that will always belong to you.
So he pretends to be asleep, forcibly controlling his breathing while you shuffle around the room none the wiser to his rising predicament.
Finally, you disappear back into the bathroom to change and Seungcheol’s lungs stretch with air until they burn.
You look pretty. Objectively. You glow in the late afternoon sun pouring in from the window, a ditsy floral print dress of orange and cream that hugging your figure; delicate collar bones on display under the flimsy straps and the column of your neck bare save for the necklace you’ve worn everyday since your parents bought it for your sixteenth birthday.
“C’mon sleepy head,” you whisper.
Seungcheol is thrilled his gawking is easily disguised as jetlag.
He changes in the bathroom. Taking a moment to grip the sink, his reflection stares back in the mirror. It’s the exhaustion and dehydration making his brain muddle. Nothing to do with you or him.
It’s fine. Everything is perfectly fine.
The downstairs foyer is in complete chaos but Sofie commands the room like she always does from the top of the stairway.
“Alright, ladies and gentlemen. Are you ready?” She yells like a WWE announcer.
Cheers rise up from the gaggle of adults. Cousins, friends, parents, aunts and uncles. Most of them Seungcheol has never seen before and is pretty sure neither have Jeonghan or Sofie but it’s fine. The more the merrier.
Except when different cars end up filled to the brim and you end up sitting on Seungcheol’s lap instead of a seat.
His heart leaps with every bump, yo
ur hair flying into his face and leaving the sweet smell of perfume to flood his senses. Seungcheol can’t even think about that because Sofie’s Zia Linda puts her husband's driving to shame.
At some point you nearly fly out the open window–Why does no one believe in keeping the windows up?– and Seungcheol is forced to wrap an arm around your waist to keep you from ending up a part of the cobblestone road.
“Sorry,” you say. The squeeze at his arm tells him your thankful at least something is stopping you from becoming roadkill.
“It’s fine.”
If you notice his strained breath, you don’t say anything.
The rooftop restaurant is gigantic but with everyone it feels small and crowded. Below, all of Rome spreads out. Lights twinkle in the distance and the moon is heavy overhead, ready for a night of revelry. It’s a welcome party so things are casual, finger foods and drinks flow heavily while everyone mingles.
Sofie and Jeonghan laugh at their own table, holding court with family and friends that flood in and out with congratulations. They’re good at it. Jeonghan ventures on the more introverted side but Sofie could have a meaningful conversation with a pile of rocks. 
You're off at another table, talking with Soonyoung and Seungkwan, a second glass of wine in hand. Laughter rings out and he feels drawn to it like a siren call. It was foolish to worry that the scar from Johnny wouldn’t heal over eventually. All you two needed was time.
Seungcheol barely leaves your side during the party. You dance and drink and dance some more until you’re both left in a heap at the same table by the dance floor. Soonyoung and Seokmin provide ample distraction, taking to the floor to do…something Seungcheol hesitates to call dancing because it resembles a child's idea of a circus. 
Dancing, food, and wine leave him feeling loose and sleepy. You’re not much better, head on his shoulder and hand tangled with his across your knees.
“Cheol?”
“Yeah?”
“I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.”
His shirt is unbuttoned, sleeves rolled high. In the back of the car on the ride home, you trace the muscle of his forearms draped over your waist until it lulls him to sleep.
Back at the house, you, Sofie, Jeonghan, and Seungcheol throw out sleepy goodnights and I love you’s before retreating to your separate corners of the house. Jeonghan is technically staying in a room in the same wing as you two (Sofie’s house is big enough to have an east and west wing which still shocks him). Something about family tradition and bad luck for the wedding but Jeonghan follows his fiancée like a shadow to her room at the opposite end of the house without theatrics.
And then there’s just you two.
You lean on each other the entire walk up, like you need the other support or you’ll crumble to the floor and sleep there. Honestly, it’s not a bad idea. Seungcheol has slept in worse places.
The stairs present their own challenges. You go first, Seungcheol right behind in case you fall backwards which has happened enough times that it’s become a habit to walk this way when alcohol is involved. But it doesn’t solve the issue of you tripping up.
Which you do with an effortless lack of grace on the last step.
“Oh, shit!” you giggle.
Seungcheol laughs so hard his knees buckle and he flops on the floor next to you like a dying fish.
“Shhh!” you slur, finger pressed to his lips. “People are sleeping.”
But you're cackling now and he can’t breathe from the painful quaking laughter rooting in his belly. He’s on his back, and you prop up on your arm to loom over him. Twin smiles breaking your faces, eyes watering with drunken mirth.
You go silent first, tracing his features silently like they must be committed to memory. Seungcheol does the same. You’re exactly the same as the day you left. Except for the vacation glow from being here for the past week. He recognizes all the parts of you he’s known for a lifetime. The silver scar on your chin from learning to ride a bike and crashing into a tree. The color of your eyes. The blush of your mouth.
The finger pressed to his lips traces along the plump flesh, then his chin, then it circles the back of his head and you’re ducking down.
Alarms go off in Seungcheol’s head screaming: 
DANGER! DANGER! THIS IS NOT WHAT FRIENDS DO! DANGER!
“Wow, it’s late,” he laughs horsley as he rolls away and to his feet. 
You jump away, dazed for a second before laughing as well. “Yeah, let’s um…let’s go to bed.”
He can’t quite read your expression. Several  emotions swirl across your face but Seungcheol can barely look at you without feeling his face heat so he doesn’t linger. 
Seungcheol takes the bathroom after you finish, rushing through his night time routine in sober silence. 
You're drunk. That’s the only reason you’re trying to kiss him. Or he had something on his mouth and you can’t find the words to tell him. It was a mistake. A momentary lapse of judgment that didn’t mean anything.
It wasn’t even a fraction of an almost kiss. Your noses barely touched, it doesn’t count.
When he comes back into the room, you’re curled up on the bed in your pajamas asleep.
Seungcheol circles to the other side, slipping under the covers and getting comfortable. The room feels smaller after what just happened. But it wasn’t a big deal. Nothing happened. You both were drunk and missed each other. You never would have kissed him.
Despite the fact the first, and only, time you two kissed was in very similar circumstances.
Rolling over, you find him and cuddle into his chest. Seungcheol opens his arms for you on instinct. 
“Did you have fun today?” you ask into his collarbone. The vibration of your voice tickles but it’s dulled from Seungcheol’s heart thudding wildly.
“Yeah.”
His hand smooths the back of your hair, down your back. You readjust, throwing a leg over his own and pulling him in tight.
“Good,” you say around a yawn. “Me too.”
Seungcheol tamps down the piece of him that wants to indulge in this. Just holding you, pretending things outside the door don’t exist and it’s just you and him and no one else. 
But he can’t do that.
“You know,” he starts. “I’m happy for you no matter what, right? You and Johnny…I’m happy for you.”
Seungcheol waits for a response that will never come because you’re out cold, snoring against his chest.
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You’re still asleep when Seungcheol wakes around noon. Sometime in the night you shifted to the far side of the bed, taking the blanket with you. He doesn’t try to wake you, still confused at exactly what happened last night.
Seungcheol isn’t naive. He knows what women look like when they want to be kissed, when they're thinking about how his mouth will feel against theirs. Usually he revels in it; loves the flare to his ego, the chance to tease before giving in.
But to see the expression on your face sent him into a panic. He’s seen it once before, indulged in it, and it ruined his life for the better part of college. Lips parted, eyes glassy as you stared. All the telltale signs were there: the lift of your chin, hands twisted in his shirt, eyes drooped low.
And the worst part was you did all that despite having a fiance waiting back home none the wiser. Even if Seungcheol couldn’t stand Johnny, he’d never do that. Never allow you to do that. 
Even if he wanted nothing more than to feel your lips on his.
He heads as far away as he can. Turns out it’s down stairs for breakfast. Sofie is at the kitchen table, typing on her laptop.
“Morning,” Seungcheol croaks.
“You look like shit. Wild night?”
“Just some old timers thinking they’re twenty one again.”
“What assholes.” She laughs. “How's Y/N?”
Seungcheol freezes like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar. Sofie couldn’t know what almost but certainly didn’t happen in the hallway last night. “She’ll probably need an exorcism but she’ll survive.”
“By the way, I meant to give her this last night but everything was crazy. Can you pass it off? Jeonghan and I have to take my grandma to lunch and she’s already called twice sooooo…”
“Yeah, go. Have fun.”
Sofie is up and out before he can blink, a tiny piece of cardstock left in her place.
Kira Long
Artisan Jeweler
Her social media and number are at the bottom but Seungcheol doesn’t need more information.
He hides around the villa most of the day. Catching up with the guys around the pool, feigning fatigue when you come out to join. The gardens are big enough for him to disappear into for a few hours before he needs to go and get ready.
Unfortunately, that also means you are getting ready. 
A leg.
That’s all Seungcheol sees when he opens the door.
Your leg specifically, propped on the dresser while you apply lotion in nothing but that damn skimpy towel designed to torture him.
“AH!” you shriek, shocked by his sudden entrance. 
“I’m sorry!” he shouts.
The fabric unravels around your chest and suddenly you're naked and Seungcheol is not looking. 
“What the fuck? Have you ever heard of knocking?”
He’s not.
“Why are you naked?”
The ceiling is very interesting. 
“Because I wanted to scare you.” you scream sarcastically. The door to the hallway is still open. Seungcheol either stays in with you or goes back out because it can’t stay open much longer. He makes the fatal mistake of locking himself inside with you. “Because I thought you’d knock, you fucker! Jesus fucking Christ, turn around.”
Seungcheol saw you naked. 
He hides in the bathroom like a wimp until it’s time to leave.
It’s a short walk to the church down the street for the rehearsal ceremony. It’s all a blur given the million and one things flying through his brain; most of them you. You in your towel. The fact you’re engaged. You looking at him like you’re dying to be kissed. The fact you’re engaged. How everyone has assumed you’re a couple this entire weekend and you’ve played along. The fact you are engaged to a man that isn’t him and Seungcheol can’t help but feel bitter about it for a completely different reason than he ever thought he would be. 
Luckily, the ceremony is only planned to last less than an hour. He knows he isn’t subtle but he tries to grin and bear it for his friends. He can see the same sentiment in you. Your smile doesn’t quite fit but Seungcheol can’t think about what it could be about. 
“Do you take this man…”
Was it his rejection? It wouldn’t make sense if it was. You’re his best friend but not even that dictates cheating. You weren’t the type; in your own words cheating was more pathetic than ghosting someone as a form of break up. 
He doesn’t get it.
“I always love you even though you sleep like a princess, my love,” Sofie gushes.
“And I’ll forgive you for snoring like an old man, love of my life.” Jeonghan fires back.
They’re saving their real vows, the one Seungcheol helped Jeonghan with, for the ceremony. Even with all the confusion swirling in his head, he can’t wait for Sofie to hear what Jeonghan has in store.
The priest is less than impressed but moves forward like he can’t wait to have them out of his congregation as fast as possible.
“Okay, and you two leave and the wedding party follows…”
Seungcheol offers his arm to the Maid of Honor, Maria, guiding her back down the aisle where Jeonghan and Sofie bicker. You follow with Seokmin, break away the second it's polite with some excuse about needing the bathroom before you dissolve into the crowd.
The dinner is back at the house. The outside is lined with chairs crowded around tables covered in exploding bouquets and candles. Family members and friends weave to and fro, drinks and food flowing heavily.
You’re talking to Seokmin in the corner of the courtyard, a glass of wine already in your hand as you laugh along to whatever the other man said. 
“So Sofie said you’re a lawyer?” Maria asks. 
“Yeah, that’s how we became friends. I actually was the one who introduced her and Jeonghan.”
“Wow, so you’re a lawyer and a matchmaker.” 
Seungcheol laughs at the compliment. Introducing Sofie and Jeonghan had been a complete accident with unintended consequences. “I wouldn’t say that. I thought Sofie would strangle him the first time they met.”
“Oh, I heard all about that. When Sofie told me they started dating I thought she must’ve meant a different Jeonghan.”
Maria makes good company through the first rounds of drinks before dinner is served. She takes his focus away from you, how your leg presses against his under the table. She grew up down the road, went to school with Sofie all the way through undergrad. Her boyfriend, Jihoon, is a surgeon back in Seattle while she works in marketing. Unfortunately getting time off for a second year resident verges on impossible so he couldn’t come to the wedding.
“You two are so cute together, how long have you been dating?” Maria asks before taking a swig of her drink.
“Oh we’re not together,” Seungcheol corrects swiftly.
You give a tense nod of agreement. 
“Really?”
“Yep. We grew up together. She’s like my sister.” 
He sounds like an asshole. The words are bile but there can be no room for incorrect interpretations. This weekend had been nothing but confusing so far. Seungcheol needs to set himself straight on where he stands with you.
“Oh,” Maria nods. “Okay. So Y/N, are you dating anyone?”
“Actually I—”
Your response fizzles out because Jeonghan’s dad rises from his seat for a speech.
“I want to take a moment to express my deepest appreciation to everyone here this weekend to celebrate Sofie and Jeonghan. I remember the first time he told us about her, how happy he was and thought ‘oh this poor girl doesn’t know what she’s gotten herself into’.” There’s a smatter of laughter throughout the room. Sofie leans into Jeonghan’s shoulder and he places a kiss on her temple. “But then I met Sofie and I can say, without a doubt, there are very few people more perfect for each other than those two. Sofie, welcome to our family.”
Dinner passes, course after course and more wine until Seungcheol physically can’t have any more. You and Maria hit it off, rambling about Jihoon’s two cats and the abandoned kitten that hangs out around his work he’s trying to bribe into coming home. You barely look at him during the conversation but he prefers it.
Dessert comes with coffee and then everyone dissolves. Some stay around the tables to chat and drink and laugh, others help clean up. But Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and the groom's party head for the back gardens, Seungkwan already queueing up the song for one last practice.
It’s tradition, in southern Italy at least, for the groom to serenade his bride-to-be the night before their wedding. Seungcheol couldn’t believe Jeonghan was planning to go through with such tradition but he’s seen the man do more for Sofie than he thought he was capable of so it shouldn’t come as a shock.
The warm summer air does good for his mood, as does laughing with the guys when Soonyoung and Seungkwan get into a wrestling match after debating if they step-shuffle for three or four counts. But they all agree with four because it’s easier to remember.
The top floor balcony at the front of the house turns out to be Sofie’s room. The light floods out of the open doors, and two sets of giggles pour down to where they stand.
Jeonghan cups his hands around his mouth and calls, “Juliet, Juliet! Let down your hair!” 
“That’s not the saying.” Seungcheol corrects. 
“Shut up, I’m talking to my wife.”
“That’s not the saying!” Sofie laughs from above. 
You and Sofie peek over the side of the iron terrace, grins already splitting your faces. You knew what was happening. It’s why you whisked Sofie away with whatever distraction you could think of while the men gathered outside for a quick last minute dry run. Something about broken heels and needing to borrow a pair of shoes.
“Sofie Cosima De Luca, you are the love of my life.” Jeonghan yells. He’s drunk on love (and a lot of champagne). “I can’t wait to marry you tomorrow. I just hope after this you still want to marry me. Hit it!”
The obscenely large speaker Seungcheol carried out starts humming the instrumental to Sofie and Jeonghan’s song. The very one Jeonghan drunkenly serenaded her with in a dingy bar, back when she didn’t believe he could handle a serious relationship and he was hopelessly wrapped around her finger.
“I’ve got sunshineeeeeeee on a cloudy day…” Jeonghan croons.
“Oh my god,” Sofie cackles.
Everyone else joins in, harmonizing in the back along with the choreo Seungkwan and Soonyoung came up with. A simple side step with occasional jazz hands (much to Soonyoung’s tipsy dismay). “I guess you’d say what can make me feel this way?” 
“MY GIRL,” Jeonghan belts his line, smiling dumbly.
You’re watching the shenanigans unfold, smiling as well. But while you're looking at everyone else, the only person Seungcheol can look at is you; the way your eyes gleam in the moonlight, your chin tipping back to laugh when Jeonghan’s voice cracks. You’re breathtaking. For a brief moment, barely a passing thought in the roaring river of his brain focused on his cue to sing and side step when needed, Seungcheol imagines what it would be like if you two were the only ones around.
Chalking it up to the moment, Seungcheol thinks about anything else as they finish the performance.
The music dwindles away and all that's left is Jeonghan staring up at his future wife as the rest of the group takes exaggerated bows. Other guest peek from windows or the edge of the drive way, cheering loudly.
“Bravi! Bravissimi!” Sofie cries as you both clap. “Can I make a request?”
Jeonghan nods like an eager puppy in response.
“Sing the Thong Song!” you both request through giggles.
“That's for after the wedding.” Jeonghan winks.
Time for Seungcheol to do his best man duties and prevent Jeonghan from making a complete ass of himself. "Alright Casanova, let’s go.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow!” Jeonghan calls over his shoulder, fighting against everyone ushering him away.
“Don’t be late!” Sofie demands.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” 
After returning Jeonghan to his room for the night, Seungcheol heads back to his completely unprepared to see you again. Too many feelings swirl in his head. Feelings he thought he finally left back in college.
He remembers only a few key events of his early childhood. When he lost his first tooth, when he broke his arm for the first time, and his soccer game at four years old when Jeonghan and he rubbed dirt in each other's faces and rolled in the grass instead of playing. But other than that, his life has been distinctly divided into two parts: before you, and after you. He remembers when you marched into the first day of second grade with a sparkly blue bookbag much too big for your little body. You went to the front of the class, introduced yourself loud and proud, and then looked around the room like you were daring anyone to say something back. 
And like any other childhood friendship is made, you sat at Seungcheol and Jeonghan’s table and asked if they wanted to be your friend. Without even considering the options, they both agreed. From then on out you’d always been Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and YN. Friends in elementary school, all through middle school, and even into the far reaches of highschool when Seungcheol played sports all year while you and Jeonghan did theater. It never occurred to any of you to be apart. Until Jeonghan stayed home to attend university in your hometown. And then it was Seungcheol and YN. Jeonghan came to visit when he could and vice versa. But at university it was you two against the world.
The first time Seungcheol realized he liked you was in third grade after you dumped chocolate milk on Jeonghan’s head because he put a bug in your lunchbox. He married you on the playground and made mud pies to celebrate. And then in high school when Seungcheol realized you weren’t just a girl but a pretty girl and the hormones of his teenage body latched onto that fact and plagued his dreams with the information. 
And he never did anything about that crush because he knew it wasn’t worth losing you to act on those silly notions. They passed just like he thought, melted away as time went on and you both dated other people. 
But that night freshman year of college…
It doesn’t matter. 
Because you have a fiancé and Seungcheol is happy for you.
The sound of running water echoes from the bathroom as Seungcheol enters your shared room. At least it delays the inevitable awkwardness. 
Or he thought it would.
“Hey, Cheol?” you call from the door.
“Yeah?”
“I forgot my clothes. Can you bring them to me?”
“Ugh, yeah.” Seungcheol scrambles for the pile of clean pajamas at the corner of the bed, snatching them up and stepping closer to the door that separates you. “Here.”
Mind caught on other things – like not remember that he caught a glimpse of you make last night, barely a second, no real detail except creamy skin and details his brained filled in on its own accord to his own chagrin – Seungcheol trips over his own feet and slams into the piece of wood head first.
The only thing stopping the door from flying straight into the wall is you.
“Shit!” you exclaim following a ricocheting ‘thump.’ “What the fuck, Cheol?”
Clutching his forehead, Seungcheol is oblivious to the tangle of limbs you’ve both collapsed into. 
“Fuck, sorry.” He blinks against the stark brightness of the overhead light. You’re clutching at your face, hands cupped around your nose and eyes filled with tears. “Here let me see.”
Your eyes crack open enough to glare at him, narrow and rimmed red. As if he didn’t feel awful enough.
Without a second thought, he strokes across the curve of your knee soothingly. “I won’t touch it, I just wanna make sure it isn’t broken.”
A hand shakenly falls away to unveil your perfectly fine nose. Seungcheol tips your chin up, moving in for a closer look just in case. But everything is fine. You’re not even bleeding, just a runny nose that definitely hurts worse than it looks. 
The initial rush of panic ebbs only to be replaced with awareness. Seungcheol is kneeling between your legs, your towel is definitely too short, and the beads of water caught on your collarbone are down right taunting him. He needs to get away.
Now.
“Oh my god,” he gasps, moving back.
Your face morphs into horror at his tone. “What?”
“You’ve got a huge bat in the cave.” Seungcheol rises to his feet, offering you a hand up while ignoring the way your chest struggles against the tie of the towel as you come to your feet as well.
“Fuck you,” you laugh, pushing him away. “Give me my clothes and get the fuck out.”
Seungcheol does just that. As the lock latches back he’s left alone with nothing but thoughts of you.
He remembers. That night you two have never spoken about. And probably would never discuss even under the threat of life and limb. A drunk kiss, in the stuffy bar that didn’t care if your IDs were fake as long as you had money.
Seungcheol remembers the way you felt in his lap, the taste of your mouth, the breathy whine against his lips when he first pulled away from the kiss. Maybe that last detail was a hallucination but it felt real. The heat of your body haunted Seungcheol for the week after it happened. 
Not even Jeonghan knew about it. 
And he’d rather die than open that can of worms. The first time Seungcheol had a crush on you in high school, he swallowed those feelings and never let them see the light of day. Because you’re his best friend, his longest friend, and if it was between the risk of losing you from his feelings (that he was certain would fade eventually despite the fact they never have) or keeping you in his life, then he’d stay silent if it killed him.
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It’s your turn to disappear the next morning. You’re side of the bed is long cooled by the time Seungcheol’s alarm goes off, a piece of him gone with it. 
His dreams hadn’t helped. A faceless woman, not even sounds or sights or tangible things he could identify. But he knows the feeling. That alluring warmth of a body firm against his own, the kind that leaves him aching when he wants up. Seungcheol knows it's you. It’s the same images that have plagued his subconscious since adolescence when he’d wake up to messy boxers and the inability to look you in the face for days after.
Feelings he’s long suppressed came out last night. Seeing you in the window, in the bathroom, it’s all too much. And now it chases him into sleep; the one place he thought he might have peace.
Luckily your absence means there's no awkward explanation of why he’s hard. The trip to the bathroom is more of dejected desperation than eager need. Seungcheol hops into the shower and takes care of it, careful to keep his thought as abstract as possible or risk you popping up in his fantasy. Dreaming about you is damning enough. He doesn’t need to add to the guilt weighing on his conscience.
The rhythm of the water lulls his brain into a cycle. He can’t do this. He can’t go another minute 
He can’t even survive Jeonghan’s wedding. How he will sit through yours with a grin will be a true test of his acting ability.
But that is future Seungcheol’s problem. Right now he needs to get through today and then tomorrow and after that he’ll be on a plane back home where he can ruminate in the isolated confines of his apartment. 
He just needs to focus on one thing at a time. 
Right now, it’s getting downstairs in the next ten minutes or risk losing tee time with Jeonghan and the other groomsmen. 
There’s only two people he’d ever turn to in a time like this, except he can’t talk to either of them because one is the problem and the other is getting married in a few hours. The last thing Jeonghan needs is to hear about an issue between his two best friends.
Which is why he’s the first to pick up Seungcheol’s mood. 
“You look like shit,” Jeonghan greets. 
The other mill about the kitchen, snagging leftover pastries and fruit. Usually Seungcheol is the first to show up, not the last. But Soonyoung still seems to be missing.
“Thanks.” 
“Rough night?”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“Well if you’re tired you can always join the girls at the spa.” Jeonghan offers. “Sofie said they’re doing mud baths.”
The wedding isn’t until this afternoon leaving the entire morning free. So the boys play golf while the girls go soak in mud.
“That sounds…horrible.”
“I know,” Jeonghan nods. “Alright gentlemen, let's head out.”
Seungcheol eats shit the entire morning. He usually scores around seventy five but he’s destined to break well over a hundred today and even Jeonghan pretends he doesn’t notice. 
“Do you ever think about why nothing happened between you and Y/N?” Jeonghan asks right as Seungcheol prepares to swing.
Kicking a man when he’s down is more of a guideline for his best friend rather than something to avoid.
Seungcheol’s shot flies wide, straight into a fairway bunker a good thirty yards behind everyone else’s ball. He watches for another solid minute, deflating.  “No.” 
“If you’re gonna lie, at least make it believable.” Jeonghan chides, setting up his own tee.
“I’m not lying.”
“Humor me. It’s my wedding day and I’m trying not to freak out.” 
“You’re freaked out?” 
“Dude, of course I’m freaked out. We’ve never gone more than a few hours without talking since we started dating and I haven’t seen her since last night. So just let me focus on something else,” Jeonghan sighs.
Seungcheol thinks about his next words wisely. Jeonghan can smell bullshit a thousand miles away, and playing mind games right now feels a little unfair. “I don’t wonder why nothing happened anymore.” 
“Lying again but whatever.”  Jeonghan grabs for his drive and lines up the shot.
“Why are you asking?” 
“I don’t know. Everyone thought you two would end up together eventually and then you didn’t. I’ve got a lot of people asking and I wanted an official response because you’re not exactly subtle and she isn’t stupid.”
Jeonghan’s shot lands square on the first cut, fifty yards ahead of Seungcheol’s ball. 
“Yeah, well.” Seungcheol huffs. “If she noticed, she never said anything.”
“Okay but did you ever say anything?” 
Jeonghan hands his club over to his catty before they start towards their respective zones. Seungcheol and his friend trailing behind.
Seungcheol argues. “You just said I wasn’t subtle?”
“You aren’t,” Jeonghan snorts. “But Y/N is about as impressionable as rock.”
“Did you think something was gonna happen?”
Seungcheol reaches his ball first. All the other guys are further ahead but Jeonghan sticks by.
“No.” Jeonghan says. “But I know you kissed her.”
Seungcheol turns to the other man, mouth gaped in shock. “How the fuck did you know that? Did she tell you?”
“I KNEW IT.” Jeonghan points at him like a little kid tattling on his friend. “ I fucking knew it! Sofie owes me fifty bucks.”
“What?”
“Y/N is a better liar than you, I’ll give her that but I knew something was off that first week I came to visit. I knew you didn’t have the balls to sleep with her so I must have been something else.”
Jeonghan asked you if you remember the kiss. Jeonghan and Sofie know you kissed. You remember the kiss. But you never said anything. If that doesn’t solidify Seungcheol firmly in the friendzone then nothing else would.
“You made a bet with your fiancée on whether your best friends kissed or not?” Seungcheol shakes his head in disbelief.
“You’ll understand when you have a successful relationship.” Jeonghan touts.
The catty hands over Seungcheol’s driver. He looks about Seungcheol’s age, maybe younger, and by the look on his face he’s trying very hard to pretend he isn’t listening to the unfolding drama. 
Another person to witness how hopeless he is. Great.
“It doesn’t matter. It was a mistake.”
“You never know,”  Jeonghan shrugs, following his catty further up the fairway and ending the conversation.
Back at the house, you’re nowhere to be seen while Seungcheol showers and changes. It’s for the best. No sleep, a horrible golf game, and now all the feelings that returned over the weekend have left him with nothing but a foul mood. 
Every step is dragged out so he doesn’t have to pretend you two are fine. He can’t afford another blow out right now because today is meant to be for Jeonghan and Sofie. Even if Jeonghan thought he should talk about it, Seungcheol couldn’t do it anymore. He wouldn’t do it anymore. But the time it takes leaves his head spinning out of control.
You’re pretending nothing is wrong. Cuddling up to him, calling him your husband. You nearly kissed him. You would’ve if he didn’t stop you. You always said cheating was worse than heartbreak but now here you are, capitalizing on his feelings for whatever satisfaction you selfishly crave; using Seungcheol to hurt your fiancé in secret. Who you seem dedicated to pretending doesn’t exist. 
It’s a nasty cycle. Feeling used, disbelief of who you’ve turned into in months away, that piece of him that always craved something more with you flowering only to wilt because it’s not real. 
You don’t want Seungcheol.
You never have.
The wedding party gathers outside the church. Sofie is tucked away in a private room until her grand entrance. She wanted everyone to be surprised, leaving her bridesmaids to mingle with the groomsmen until it was time to for the ceremony to start.
The lavender bridesmaid dress is nothing special. A tie at the top keeps the entire thing up, the front void of any details. The open back adds a flash of skin but other than that there isn’t much to it. But you’re wearing it and Seungcheol can feel his heart jerk as the fabric flows around your curves. The universe is taunting him with what he’ll never have.
He doesn’t stare despite the fact that every time he blinks his gaze automatically searches for you. It’s hard to ignore the only person he sees in a crowded room. Even if he’s pissed at you.
You excuse yourself from Seokmin, creeping over to where Seungcheol stands with a grin. “You clean up nice.”
“Thanks,” he nods.
“Is something wrong?’ 
A shot of annoyance flashes through him. Now is not the place. Last time he felt like this, you two got in a screaming match on a snowy sidewalk. “No.”
You shake your head, hand coming to rest on his arm in an act of comfort. “Are you sure? Because you’ve been acting weird.”
Betrayed by his own body. Half of him wants to get on the next flight home and block your number so he can forget all of this. It wouldn’t work. The times tried anything remotely of the sort only leave him in circling thoughts day and night.
The other half of him wants to wrap you in his arms and take whatever you're willing to give him. The half that could act like Johnny didn’t exist, at least not in this little bubble where nothing else exists but you and him. Because he's selfish and he’s been in love with you for years and he would never expect something in return for his feelings but he can’t take it any more.
But he can’t pretend anymore.
Pretending he’s never been jealous of your boyfriends, and that the night in college when you kissed meant nothing. That it didn’t flood his brain everytime he looked at you; that it didn’t leave more questions than answers. He’s been pretending everything has been fine, that seeing you asleep on his chest doesn’t make his heart hurt, and that he was stronger than the temptation to kiss you last night.
He remembers that night with clarity despite how drunk he was. Thought it meant you felt the same way he had for years.
“Cheers to finally being adults!” you scream, tequila shot raised over head.
Seungcheol laughs. Nothing is that funny but he’s nineteen and drunk in a dingy college bar with his best friend . “Adults!”
Someone passes by and knocks you forward, straight into Seungcheol's chest where you keep laughing as you look up at him.
You’re close. Closer than ever before. He could count all your eyelashes if there weren’t four of you floating in his vision. But Seungcheol doesn’t need to see clearly. Not when you’re already kissing him.
He’s kissing you.
It’s sloppy and drunk but his brain doesn’t think in big picture. It’s all feeling. Your hand in his shirt, a sweet sigh against his chin when you break away for a second just to come right back. Your mouth tastes like alcohol and lime and he’s never had anything better sweep across his tongue.
Thank god for the booth because you’re in his lap now, grinding against the seam of his jeans until he’s hard and when you finally realize you say his name.
And then Seungcheol pulls away, turns his head, and vomits before blacking out.
He hates that he thinks about it. He thinks about it all the time. What if? But there’s no more what ifs. There's only right now. Just you and him and the widening space in between that's become unnavigable. 
“I’m acting weird? I’m not the one rubbing herself all over me, calling me her husband to strangers, and trying to kiss me.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“I can’t believe you would do something like this. Why would you put me in this position? Do you think it’s funny?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m happy for you, really. I just think it’s best if we don’t talk for a while. I think you need to sort things out with your fiance.”
Now that seems to get your attention. “Seungcheol, what—”
The music swells from the organ inside, cueing the ceremony and effectively silencing your questions. 
Good. It’s better that way. Seungcheol is weak for you in all the ways that matter and he knows if he had to stand there for another minute then your hurt expression is all it would take for him to fold and pretend he never said anything.
You join the other bridesmaids and Seungcheol ducks inside the church after the wedding planner opens the doors. One by one the other groomsmen walk in: Joshua, Seungkwan, Soonyoung, and finally Seokmin. Each line up further down Jeonghan’s side. Then the bridesmaids follow. 
Sofie’s cousin, who Seungcheol met once, glides down the aisle followed by another taller cousin who looks nearly identical. Then it’s Sofie’s roommate from college, Mona who Josh had been trying to get with all weekend.
You walk up the aisle, a smile plastered on your face but it doesn’t reach your eyes. You won’t look in his direction. 
Everything is slipping through his fingers and you both have to pretend they aren’t.
Everyone turns to watch Maria, and then Sofie. But the only person Seungcheol is paying attention to is you. 
The ceremony flies by. Sofie cries, Jeonghan cries. 
Sofie cries even harder when Jeonghan recites his vows in Italian. It’s odd, watching his two friends who usually are the couple laughing in the corner, be so vulnerable. Declaring their love for each other in front of a few hundred people.
“Sofie, sin dal primo momento in cui ti ho incontrata, sapevo che ti avrei voluta nella mia vita per sempre. Che tu mi amassi o odiassi, per me andava bene, perché significava che avresti pensato a me tanto quanto io pensavo a te. Mi hai dato il privilegio di chiamarti mia, e non posso aspettare di farlo per il resto delle nostre vite.”
Six months of using Seungcheol as practice, along with Sofie’s cousin, and he sounds decent. Jeonghan wouldn’t win any awards for his language skills but everyone’s faces melt around the room. Even the people that don’t know a word of what he’s say can feel the earnest dedication he has to Sofie. Even Seungcheol gets misty eyed.
“Io, Jeonghan, prendo te, Sofie, come mia sposa e prometto di esserti fedele sempre, nella gioia e nel dolore, nella salute e nella malattia, e di amarti e onorarti tutti i giorni della mia vita.”
“I, Sofie, take you, Jeonghan, as my husband and promise to be faithful to you always, in joy and in pain, in health and in sickness, and to love you and every day honor you, for the rest of my life.”
Then they kiss and Sofie screams something along the lines of “we’re married, bitches!” much to the priest demise before exiting the church. 
From there it’s chaos. 
The entire wedding party is corralled for endless pictures while everyone else heads back to the villa for the reception. You don’t look at him and Seungcheol refuses to acknowledge you until your parents are forcing you two together for awkward pictures like its high school prom.
By the time it’s over and he gets to the reception, the party is in full swing and the sun is setting.
Dinner is a blur. He makes his toast, short and sweet like Jeonghan told him to. The night progresses and people flood the cleared area serving as a makeshift dance floor in the center of the courtyard.
Seungcheol sips his wine. Three glasses in an hour because he isn’t sure what to do with his hands when his obligatory dance with Maria is over and he’s avoided being dragged on the floor by one of Sofie’s more zealous aunts because she herself demands a dance.
“How does it feel to be Mrs. Yoon?”
Sofie turns to watch Jeonghan twirls her great grandmother. Or more like Nonna Cosima leads him. She’s surprisingly spry for someone pushing triple digits. “I think he’s gonna be a great first husband.”
His gaze settles on you, Seokmin leading you across the floor in a ridiculous fashion. The younger man is trying hard to make you laugh and it seems to be working.
“She thinks you’re mad at her,” Sofie says.
“Maybe I am.”
“Care to share with the class?” She prods but Seungcheol doesn’t break, using the ending of the song to find a table at the edge of the makeshift dance floor. “Fine, but I feel like if you’re gonna pout at my wedding I should at least know why. Especially because I owe Han fifty bucks because you can’t lie to save your life.”
Seungcheol is mad. But mostly at himself. For tricking himself into thinking maybe, just maybe, there could be something more. That in all the improbable universes you returned his feelings, this would be one. 
And he did all that knowing you’re dedicated to someone else who is so entirely wrong for you.
“What did she tell you?” Seungcheol asks. 
“That’s not how this works. No pay, no play.”
He studies Sofie for a minute. She’s good at keeping her cards close but she knows about you and Johnny. It wouldn’t be a far leep to assume she knows about everything else.
“God, you sound like Jeonghan.”
“Have you and Y/N talked? Like, really talked, since you got here?” There's a weight at the end of that sentence but Sofie doesn’t elaborate. 
“Care to be more specific?” he asks, grabbing for another glass.
“I’ll take that as a no then.” Sofie takes the seat beside him.
His chest tightens. This is it. 
“About her and Johnny?”
“So she did say something…” Sofie fishes.
“No she didn’t. But I heard you guys in the kitchen the night I got in.”
“You did?” she gasps. “And you didn’t say anything to her about it?”
His jaw ticks in annoyance. “What’s there to say? ‘Congrats on your engagement, you’re too good for him’? I don’t think that's what she’d wa—”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Sofie throws her hands up, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. All around the party continues. “You think Y/N is engaged? To who?”
“Johnny! Who else?”
Her drink sloshes over the sides of her wine glass, narrowly missing the white gown and falling to the cobblestone. “Oh my god, you’re an idiot!”
“Excuse me?”
“She’s not engaged, you dipshit,” she goes on. “Oh my god, you’re both so stupid. I told Han, I told him we should’ve said something.”
“What?” he says quietly.
Sofie continues as if Seungcheol hasn’t spoken at all, “I can’t believe she hasn’t told you.”
“Told me what?”
“She broke up with him!”
She broke up with him. She (you) broke up with him (Johnny). You and Johnny are done. It’s like he’s hearing the news from underwater.
“She broke up with him.” He repeats dumbly.
Someone cheers and then applause follows but Seungcheol is lost in his mind. You and Johnny aren’t engaged. You two aren’t even dating. Haven’t been. 
“When?”
Sofie’s face softens. She knows. The first time he introduced you to Sofie she assumed you two were dating. She didn’t like Johnny for a lot of the same reasons Seungcheol did, but also because she thought you two were meant to be together. “A week after she moved.”
That phone call the week after you moved. It must’ve been something to do with you and Johnny. But why didn’t you answer messages the next morning? Why would you break up with Johnny and then refuse to tell him? Why would you let Seungcheol think he was being used as the other man?
“So this entire week…”
“She was supposed to tell you. I told her to tell you months ago but does she listen to me? Nope.”
“Do you know why?”
“Now that is something she needs to tell you.” Seungcheol looks where you're dancing with Seokmin. Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes but you laugh when the man dips you almost to the floor and struggles to lift you back up. “But first you need to apologize.”
“Is it that bad?”
“When I imagined someone crying at my wedding it wasn’t because of you.”
Seungcheol winces, “She cried?”
“Yep. You owe me a nice ass wedding gift for that one.”
“Sofie, I’m sorry I—” he tries to apologize. 
“Cheol, don’t worry about it.” She pats his arm. “It was actually a nice distraction from the insanity this week.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“It really is.” Sofie rises from the table, snagging a glass of champagne from a passing tray. “Now if you’ll excuse me, my husband owes me a dance. And Cheol?”
“Yeah?”
“You should tell her how you feel.”
Seungcheol takes his chance at Sofie’s departure. With the change in music Seokmin bows out and you're left on the dance floor alone. Cast in the soft glow of garden lights and candles, you’re tragically beautiful. Soft around the edges in a dreamy haze. Seungcheol feels like he’s intruding by approaching you but he needs to apologize before you both return to your separate corners of the country tomorrow night.
“Hey,” he greets.
You look at him apprehensively, eyes dark, before speaking. “Hi.”
You’re just as petty as Seungcheol so he knows if you’re speaking to him then there's some kind of hope he hasn’t completely ruined your friendship. But it could also mean you’re about to rip him a new one in front of everyone for not the first time in his life.
Hopefully, it’s the former.
“Mind a walk?”
“We’re at a wedding.”
Jeonghan and Sofie curl tightly around each other at the center of the courtyard. It’s clear from the way both their faces soften, lax grins reaching their ears, that the world has stopped spinning just for them.
“I’m pretty sure we could light them on fire right now and they wouldn’t notice. Besides, Sofie gave me her blessing,” he jokes but you don’t laugh.
“Fine,” you say before stalking towards one of the paths leading to more secluded parts of the house.
People drape across different parts of the villa as you two walk in silence to find some privacy. The gardens are full of chatting elders, kids running around in the dark or falling asleep in some adults' holds. After ten minutes with no luck at seclusion, Seungcheol has half a mind to go back to your room and talk it out but he doesn’t. The idea itself freezes his blood.
It’s not until you're deeper into the maze of shrubs and bushes that the voices and music fade. The silence is so tense he might shatter under the pressure.
You whip around to face him, still five paces ahead. 
“What did you want to talk about?” you deadpan.
Seungcheol thought through every thing he wanted to say, all the questions and whys and what ifs he’d collected during this trip but they abandoned him now that they have the chance to be answered. Instead, all that comes out of him is a shaky,  “I’m sorry.”
You wait for him to elaborate but he doesn’t. He’s apologizing for more than he could put in words and he’d list them off until the sun comes up if he starts now.
“Okay. Is that all?” you ask.
“Sofie told me about Johnny.”
You blanche. “She did?”
“Yeah, she did.”
“What did she tell you?” your arms draw tightly around your center. Like you’re holding your heart from spilling out your chest. 
Seungcheol regurgitates the limited facts Sofie shared, which is that Johnny hasn’t been in the picture for months and you never deemed him worthy of that information.
“Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“I tried. But you didn’t answer your phone and I felt so stupid afterwards and… I just couldn’t do it.”
It hits a nerve deep in his heart. How could it have been easier to spend months pretending he didn’t exist then tell him your relationship ended? More anger slips through. The nasty kind that makes him say things he doesn’t mean but Seungcheol tries to reign it in.
“So you just ignored me and thought that’d solve all our problems?” 
“No!’
“Then why didn’t you say something?”
“Because I moved cities for a guy I didn’t even like that much! I changed my entire life for him just to prove a point. Because you were right about him and I was wrong and only took a fucking week to realize that after I screwed everything up. I should have listened to you but—”
“So you lied to me because you didn't want me to say ‘I told you so’?” Seungcheol fumes. “Are you serious?”
“I didn’t lie to you!” you object.
“Yes you did! You stopped talking to me for months! Months. I can’t even remember we went a week without talking but you dropped off the face of the planet,” he rants. “I thought you were happy in New York with Johnny but apparently I’m the last to know anything. If you had just told me I wouldn’t have said anything. I would have gone up there and moved you back home myself.”
“I don’t want you to fix my mistakes!”
“Then what do you want? Because from where I’m standing I have no idea. All week you’ve been acting weird and because you didn’t tell me I thought you were using me to cheat on your boyfriend. How do you think that makes me feel?”
“I didn’t mean to. Things just kept happening and I got swept up before I could tell you.”
Seungcheol was nothing more than a meaningless distraction, a rebound.
“So it didn’t mean anything to you?” he asks.
“No!” you cry. “I was just distracted.”
“Distracted? Are you serious?”
“You know what? Forget it. You don’t want to listen to me, you just want to be mad and yell.”
You’re right. Seungcheol does want to be mad and yell and pull his own hair out because what you’re saying isn’t helping untangle the knotted mess of his brain. It’s making it worse. Your confessions are watering that seed of hope in his chest despite the fact he knows nothing will ever happen. Even with Johnny out of the picture.
“Why did you break up with Johnny?”
“I—” Your eyes close. Pulled tight like you’re finding the courage to tell Seungcheol some dark secret. “He…” you swallow. “I broke up with him because…”
Seungcheol tenses, prepared for the absolute worst. You moved your entire life for the guy and broke up with him a handful of days later. There had to be a reason. “Because why? Did he do something?”
“No!” you correct. “I wish he did, I probably wouldn’t have felt like such a bitch but he didn’t do anything at all. I just realized we didn’t work.”
“You didn’t ‘work’?”
I told you so, indeed.
“Yeah. It’s kinda difficult to be with someone when you're in love with someone else,” you reply.
Suddenly, Seungcheol wishes he never brought it up. Another guy. One that isn’t him. Again. He’s the other man. Those gut feelings, the nagging voice at the back of his head that reminded him time and time again you couldn’t feel the same has its own ‘I told you so’ moment.
But that’s not what makes him feel horrible. He’d suffer from overthinking as long as needed just so you wouldn’t look so ashamed. 
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Seugncheol waits for you to elaborate. More silence except for the crunch of your shoes across the stone walkway. A bench comes into view and you slip into one of the spots before speaking again.
“I…I always wondered why those dates never worked out. Like, I would like someone but then they didn’t want the same things or they’d want the same things but I didn’t want them. And I guess Johnny was my last ditch effort because maybe if I knew from the beginning things weren’t gonna work out then I’d never be disappointed.”
Seungcheol isn’t sure what to say so he stays quiet.
“And I thought I could just live with it. Knowing I didn’t have what Jeonghan and Sofie have. Like who actually gets that in their life? But…”
“But?”
“But then I realized that there was only one guy my whole life that’s actually been everything I wanted and I was comparing everyone to him.”
“Who?”
“You.”
Him. You’ve compared every guy you’ve dated to him. He’s the person you want, the man you’ve measured everyone up to and found them wanting.
You’re in love with Seungcheol. You broke up with your boyfriend for Seungcheol.
You love him back.
“It’s fine, if you don’t feel that way about me. I’m okay with it. I wasn’t planning to tell you because I expected anything. I just… part of the reason I didn’t say anything is I know you don’t think about me like that but this week I thought— I don’t know what I thought. But I didn’t want to lie to you anymore.”
“You…what?”
“Let’s just agree to pretend this never happened, okay? We should get back to the party.” You move to rush past him but Seungcheol hooks an arm around your torso, light enough you could break through if you really wanted to but you stop all the same.
There is no way in hell you drop that bomb on him and leave him to deal with the aftermath alone.
His voice is unrecognizable to his own ears. “You broke up with Johnny because of me?”
“Yeah,” you swallow. You refuse to look at him, focusing on the neatly clipped grass your heels sink into.
“Because you’re in love with me.” 
You flounder. It isn’t a question. It’s a fact.
“How long?” Seungcheol presses.
“What?”
“How long have you been in love with me?”
“It's always been you.”
Seungcheol’s heart detonates into a million pieces.
“You?” His pulse is sprinting. You’re in love with him. Have been. Maybe as long as he’s been in love with. Impossible for it to be longer because there's no moment in time when Seungcheol didn’t carry his feelings for you like an old friend. “You didn’t say anything.”
Your eyes are wet again, more tears he wants to brush away but he can’t do anything but stare. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”
“You wouldn’t have,” he whispers back.
“What's supposed to mean?”
Your nose brushes along his, eyes soft as you glance at his mouth. 
Seungcheol won’t let himself kiss you yet. He can’t. The first time he feels your lips on his in years has to be in private because he shakes at the idea of it, a part of him chips away from just imagining even the most chaste brush. But mostly because he’s terrified that once he starts, he knows he won’t be able to stop.
“Do you remember that night in college?” he asks. You’re stunned speechless by the abrupt shift in topic but the words fall out of his mouth before he can think of a better way to say what needs to be said. He continues, “when we did a million shots and you kissed me?”
You snap back, slapping a hand on his chest and nearly teetering to the ground. “You bitch! You kissed me!”
“So you do remember!”
“Of course I remember,” you declare. “I thought you didn’t remember.”
You remember. You remember how his mouth tasted, how you ground into his lap, the feeling of his hands on your ass. All of it sticks with you like it stuck to him.
“Trust me, I remember.”
“Well, why didn’t you say anything?” you huff.
“I was going to but you told me you started dating whatever-his-name before I could.”
“Because I thought you didn’t like me back!”
“I’ve liked you since the first day I met you.”
“Really?”
“Yep.”
“You should’ve said something.” The admonishment means nothing. Not with the way you smile at him. It makes his heart soar, hope bursting at the seams. 
“I didn’t even know you realized I was a dude until college, why would I say something?”
“Trust me, I knew you were a guy way before college.”
“And we’re back to the original question: why didn’t you say anything?”
It's ridiculous. Utterly comical and unimportant of who said what when because they’re being said now and Seungcheol never has to pretend he isn’t hopelessly in love with you ever again.
You cozy up into his chest, fingers tracing the collar of his shirt. “Wow, barely five minutes we’re already fighting.”
“We’re not fighting.” His lips burn the word into your hairline, arms wrapping around your frame so his fingers can finally, finally, trace the bared skin of your back.
“Oh really?” You laugh. “Then what are we doing, oh wise one?”
“We’re having a spirited conversation over the fact you kissed me and never said anything.”
“And now we’re fighting over whether or not we’re fighting.”
“We’re not fighting.”
“You’re exhausting.” Your eyes roll. He can’t see it, not with how you duck into his neck, but he knows you did it. Because Seungcheol knows you better than anyone else.
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“And you kissed me.”
“Well then there's only one way to settle this.”
“Which is?”
Seungcheol doesn’t answer. If Jeonghan could be lit on fire and not think of anyone but his wife, then the world could fall to dust and the only thing on Seungcheol’s mind is the way your mouth feels against his.
It’s light at first. Airy because you’re both still laughing over arguing if you’re fighting or not. But then Seungcheol loses his balance and you help by curling a hand around his shoulder but refuse to stop kissing him and the world blinks out of existence for a second.
All the cliches start making sense. Two halves of a whole, puzzle pieces slipping together, all the things poets could say in a million more eloquent ways than him.
But Seungcheol feels at home for the first time in his life.
It’s not easy maneuvering a full grown woman up and into his lap. It’s especially not easy because you’re you and you’re more stubborn than anyone he’s met in his life which means you object to every step, huff and puff at a brief second of broken contact, but the second he spins you around and drags over his lap you melt.
Your tongue glides along his, sending a tsunami of want through his bones. You whimper. Or maybe he does. Seungcheol can’t tell what's up and what's down right now. He finds the open back of your dress and relishes in the arch of your spine, the choppy breath he can feel beneath his palms.
The silk bow holding your dress up teases his hand as Seungcheol traces the notches of your spine. No one would see. No one except him and the moon and the stars who’ve all stopped to watch. He wants to. God, he wants to but he doesn’t.
You tug at his hair and your name floods his tongue like a curse. 
Draped across his lap in nothing but thin satin, you can feel all of him. How his cock hardens against the back of your thighs, shaky breathes in his lungs wrecking into your own chest. You're not wearing a bra. None of that tape or the sticky thing you’d leave hanging in the bathroom when you lived together. Seungcheol knows because he thumbs over the soft swell of your chest and you respond with a rock of hips that leaves his mouth watering.
The last time he kissed you, that fateful night freshman year of college, Seungcheol thought about it every night for months. He thought about it in the shower, in his bed. His mind would wander towards the memory during class and when he walked around campus.
Now he’ll think about this for the rest of his life.
A shrieking laugh almost sends you to the ground in haste to break away, but Seungcheol catches you in time. 
“Um…” you choke. Your lips are swollen, eyes a little dazed.
“We should go back inside.”
“Yeah.”
“Just, give me a minute.”
“Why?” Your smile grows steadily as you press more firmly into his predicament.
“I have an issue right now.”
“What kind of issue, Cheolie?” you stare at him through your lashes, finger tracing down the front of his shirt until you reach the button of his pants.
“Oh God,” he grunts as the heel of your hand rocks into him. “You’re actually evil.”
Your lips trace over his jaw, sucking and nipping at the lobe of his ear until he shudders. “Don’t you want me?” 
“I do,” he breaths. “Shit.”
His hand squeezes across your ass, your breasts, mindful of how much freedom you’re giving him. To feel you like this, to touch you the way he’s wanted to for years. 
“Then have me,” you moan. 
“Don’t say stuff like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you want me to fuck you right here.”
“But I do want you to fuck me.” Your hand is in his pants. “Right.” A tight squeeze on his cock. “Here.” He ruts into the next one.
His insides spark with a hot kind of electricity at the idea of you jerking him off where anyone could see. But he wants to touch you. And that he doesn’t want anyone else to even imagine. He’s shared you enough with the world. 
Seungcheol wants a piece of you that's just for him right now.
“Fuck, okay. Stop.”
“What’s wrong?”
“We’re going back inside.”
“Oh?”
Seungcheol doesn’t give into your obvious goading. It’ll just waste more time. Give you another chance to wring him out to dry and he knows if you get his pants down far enough it’s game over for the both of you. 
He rushes you through the garden, all but dragging you behind him in his haste to get you somewhere secluded. He’d settle for a broom closet at this point. Anywhere he can have you alone.
But you won’t go down without a fight.
You slow to a near stop, whining, “My feet hurt.”
Seungcheol leads you back over another stone bench, immediately kneeling and grabbing your ankle. The pebbles of the path dig into his knee but the slit of silk revealing your bare legs is a good distraction.
“Alright, Cinderella. Let’s get these off,” he jokes. The buckle is delicate and keeps slipping from between his fingers no thanks to your help.
“I can do it myself!”
You try to kick him off but Seungcheol catches your calf easily. Instead of focusing on the teasing stretch of skin, he watches the way your nose wrinkles indignantly after thwarting your attempt to catch him off guard. You’re cute. Probably because he’s in love with you and the rush from knowing you love him back has him feeling a million miles tall.
“Cheol?”
“Yeah?”
Pulling your foot into his lap, Seungcheol brushed his fingers against the knob of your ankle. The tiny buckle that refuses to come undone. Your shaking doesn’t help much.
“Cold?” he asks.
You nod furiously. Warmth hangs in the air but Seungcheol won’t assume your comfort; the silk you're wrapped in doesn’t provide much coverage against the elements. It doesn’t provide him any protection from a wild imagination fueled from years of pining. Without a thought, he shakes off his jacket and hands it to you before moving back to your shoe.
Looming over him, Seungcheol feels your breath hit his forehead. He wants to look up but you’re too close. Too tempting. 
He finally undoes one shoe, then the other. But you don’t say anything and neither does he from his spot between your legs. It’d be easy. So easy to bunch your skirt around your waist, part your legs, and make you cum on his finger. Then his mouth. Then his cock.
You’re thinking the same thing. A hiccup of breath rustling the hair on his forehead, your hands stroking the muscles of his neck give you away. 
But when he starts, he knows he won’t be able to start. He’ll want nothing less than all of you. Give all of himself to you. If you’ll have him.
But a hard stone bench isn’t the place to worship your body the way you deserve. He’d be a gentleman. Even if it killed him to wait any longer. You were worth waiting for. Seungcheol would wait a million more lifetimes if he got to feel like this again.
No shoes means he’s carrying you the rest of the way. He’s done it before and you’re not that heavy but he’s been drinking. And then there's the matter of all the blood in his body heading south, so he struggles more than usual.
“You’re sure you’ve got it?” you cling on for dear life when he nearly stumbles under the first step.
“Sorry, I haven’t been carrying a lot of full grown women around lately.”
“I thought you were looking a little small,” you goad.
“Small?” he objects.
“Yeah, small.” You squeeze over his biceps and his chest like you two aren’t sneaking around a packed mansion where anyone could stumble by. His resolve slips further out of reach at the dig of your nails. “Been skipping the gym lately?”
He feigns dropping you, laughing when you scramble for hold under threat of falling flat on your ass.
“Asshole!” you laugh.
Things fizzle back to comfortable silence. Your companions are far off laughs and the loud music from the courtyard. The garden is all but abandoned, not a single soul in sight. It makes it all too tempting to find another bench and take up what was interrupted earlier. The heat of your breath against his ear with each giggled whisper didn’t help. Neither did the warm weight of your thighs in his hold or the firm press of your chest against his back. 
It’s a mistake to look over his shoulder. Your eyes shine in the moonlight as you stare back, a smile lifting the corner of your lips.
Seungcheol focuses back on the hallway, double checking for any passersby. There’s nothing indecent about a man giving a woman a tipsy piggy back ride. 
But there is something entirely inappropriate about how hard he is while doing so.
And Seungcheol knows you know. Or if you don’t then the universe has a personal investment in his suffering. Every step is more difficult than the last because your thighs squeeze around his torso, and your hands find their way down his chest, and then there’s the giggling every time he back tracks because a drunken guest stumbles by on the way to their own room.
You’re sneaking around like two idiot teenagers and it might kill him from lack of blood to his brain.
But Seungcheol wouldn’t have it any other way.
He pauses at the last staircase to catch his breath. There’s no reason you’re still on his back other than the fact he doesn’t want to let you go and the position is the only reason he hasn’t found a dark corner to do whatever you please yet.
“Awww poor Seungcheol, tired already,” you coo. 
Your teasing tone makes his blood boil, worse how you readjust your hold with more squeeze and stretching that leaves him with nothing but horribly inappropriate thoughts of what you’ll do after he gets up the stairs.
Finally, the hallway housing your room appears and he can’t get through the door fast enough. 
You're pressed flat between the door and his body in a blink, fully at Seungcheol’s mercy as he kisses you again. 
“Wait,” you mutter.
Seungcheol sucks along your bottom lip. You pull him closer, arching into his chest. Your stomach is soft against the gentle grinds of his cock. He doesn’t want to wait anymore.
“We—hmmm,” you sigh. “Need to talk about this.” 
Seungcheol pulls away from your mouth, trailing scorching kisses down your neck that leave you shivering. “What about it? I love you, you love me. Feels like that's all there is to it.” 
The second he says it, Seungcheol knows he’s wrong. But he doesn’t want to think about the fine details. He’s never done long distance but you’re only a train ride away. 
“Cheol.” You prod a finger into his collarbone until he dips back.
“I mean it’ll suck being in different cities but it’s not forever right? We’ll figure it out.”
You dip your chin. “I’m not staying in New York.”
“Oh. That’s—” he cups your cheek, pulling your gaze to his. “I’ll go wherever you need me.”
You smile up at him and everything goes blank. In that moment, he vows to do anything you ever ask if it means you’ll keep looking at him like that.
“I’m moving back to D.C.” You kiss the words into his palm, eyes never leaving his.
“Really?”
“Yeah.” You smile. “Sofie’s friend needed a roommate and my job agreed to let me go remote so…”
“When do you move back?”
“Two months. They want to wait until the busy season is over.”
“But then you’re back. For good?”
“For good.”
It feels like you're promising a whole lot more.. 
You have Seungcheol for good too. As long as you want him, he’s yours. Probably for long after too. 
He’s so happy, it burns across his skin. It can’t be contained. This is all real. He fights the urge to pinch himself because not even in the wildest of his dreams did he think this was possible. 
"When you come back home.” Home he thinks. Home with him. Where you belong. “We're going on a date. And you're going to let me pay, and woo you, and take care of you because I love you. Okay?”
Your hands twine around his shoulders before you respond with a nod, “Okay.”
In the privacy of your room, you’re the one that tugs the knot holding your dress up. The silk slips down your chest revealing inch after inch of what he’s only dreamed off. When it pools around your waist, Seungcheol almost falls to his knees.
You shiver in the cool bedroom air. His eyes drink in the way your nipples peek under his gaze. Every inhale shakes in your lungs and he thinks this might just be enough for him to die peacefully. The silk trickles like water down your figure until you're left standing in nothing but skimpy panties.
“Fuck,” he curses.
Your hands flash to cover your chest, “What?”
“No, don’t,” Seungcheol reassures. His hands find yours, tracing along your thumb. “You’re just…”
“Just?” you ask.
“Wow.”
“I’m wow?” you laugh. 
Seungcheol takes another step into your space. And then another and another, your dress crumbling to the floor and leaving behind nothing but the thin band of your underwear for him to remove. Your knees hit the mattress and he follows you down into the cushion.
You're soft and warm like afternoon sunlight on a winter day under his wandering hands.
“You’re wow,” he responds, angling your chin so your mouth can meet his, noses grazing against one another.
You don’t have the patience to hear Seungcheol ramble about how perfect you are. Instead, you drag him into a desperate kiss, tongue teasing his. He’ll wax poetically later. Right now he wants to give you whatever you demand.
More kissing, the prickle of your teeth along his lip, and Seungcheol is pretty sure he’s never been harder in his life. It’s humbling and exhilarating all at once. Ready to crumble into nothing from some light petting.
He takes his revenge on the curve of your shoulder and it turns out to be extra sensitive. Every nip and suck along your collarbone leaves you panting, hands scratching up his back for some relief. He wonders what else is sensitive.
He laves against your nipple in maddening slowness. You torture him as well, ankles locking at the base of his spine while you grind against him and make more noises he’ll commit to memory forever.
 “God,” you whine when Seungcheol finally breaks and rocks down into the tempting heat of your core.
He needs more. 
“Do you think about this?” he grunts with another torturous press. He could come like this. You could come from this. Two adults, reduced to dry humping like horny teenagers.
“I think about you all the time,” you gasp.
“What do you think about?”
“You.”
Seungcheol snickers, “More specific.”
“Touching me, kissing me. Anywhere. Everywhere.”
A swell of neanderthal pride blooms in his heart. The image of you, touching yourself with his name on your lips breaks another piece of his self control that wants to savor this.
“Here?” he kisses the swell of your breast, waiting for a nod to move on. 
“Here?” A suck on your nipple again until the bed sheets threaten to rip from your hold.
“Here?” A bite at your hip bone.
His fingers part your core, wet at first contact even over your panties. “What about here?”
“Everywhere. I’ve thought about you touching me everywhere.” You sound like you might start crying if he doesn’t fulfill that fantasy soon. 
But he’s dying to know every little thought you’ve ever had about him. If you think about him a fraction as much as he thinks about you. Not just like this, but when he sees a building he’d never think twice about and know you’d have something to say about the construction of the window arches, or when he walks through the park and sees two dogs meeting for the first time and can hear your voice whisper ‘best friends!’ like you’re right beside him. You’re in everything. Every part of who he is.
Your panties come off and he licks between your legs slowly, savoring every part he can while you twitch and curl beneath him. 
“Cheol,” you whine.
There's no need to elaborate. He feels it too.
Your back bows under his touch, and Seungcheol watches you touch yourself with rapt attention. You grab your breasts and squeeze, nipples visible between fingers. 
He sucks your clit, tongue lashing at the sensitive nub. A million times Seungcheol thought about doing this and never did his brain imagine the sounds you’d make, the way you taste, the rough tub at his hair. You're hot and wet under his mouth and all Seungcheol wants is more, more, more.
“Tell me how it feels.”
“So good—fuck—it’s so good,” you gasps as he fucks your opening with his tongue, collection your flavor.
His finger wedges inside your tight walls. You angle your hips, sinking them deeper. Seungcheol pauses for only a moment before giving you a second one. The sting across his scalp from your frantic tugging leaves him straining against the zipper of his slacks.
He cups your ass, dragging you closer to the edge of the bed where he kneels. Your legs spread wider to grant him the space to  savor the pink of your folds under his tongue without obstruction.
Your pitch rises, moaning through a third finger joining the mix and a rough lap of his tongue that has you kicking the sheets.. He can feel it; your end just over the hill. A few vulgar flicks of his tongue and its release in long waves that make you keen his name horsley. 
You melt into a boneless heap. Occasional twitches of muscles flooding with pleasure the only sign of life.
Seungcheol mouths up your stomach, sucking a nipple between his teeth for a second before moving on to your mouth. If all you want to do tonight is kiss and let Seungcheol worship your pussy, then he’ll oblige. But the way pull at his clothes hints at what you want. He draws you back into his lap, your body hot against his, mouth coaxing yours open. 
“Good?”
You giggle against his mouth. “I can’t feel my toes.”
He can’t stop touching you. Probably won’t ever stop now that he knows what it means to call you his. To know your body. You’re no better. Your hands rake through his hair, goosebumps erupting as you tug him exactly where you want.
The soft lines of your throat, the intoxicating taste of sweat and perfume flooding his tongue. It’s better than anything his sorry excuse for an imagination could come up with.
You tug at his shirt, up and up until it’s forgotten on the floor. Your bare chest against his lights an inferno of want. Seungcheol pushes apart your limp thighs, making space for himself to grind against your sensitive core through his own trousers. 
Seungcheol remembers a crucial fact as you slip a hand in his pants and tease his leaking cock.
“Wait,” he mutters into your jaw.
You don’t stop, slowly jerking him off, teeth cutting into the vein on his neck. “What?’
Seungcheol savors your touch before responding, thrusting through your first with blind want. “I don’t have condoms.”
“Oh.”
“I can go and try to find some but I—” he rambles. 
“Cheol.”
“—everyone is probably still at the party so—”
You shut him up with a hand over his mouth, “I’m on birth control and I’m clean.”
“Oh.”
Oh. Seungcheol’s brain swims with lewd imagination; you stuffed with his cum, pussy stretched and worn from his cock. Feeling you raw, again and again until your helpless sweaty messes. 
“Unless you want to use them then that's fine!” you hastily supply.
He cups your face, smiling as you ramble about how okay you are with using condoms. Your face is warm, eyes avoidant while you enthusiastically declare you want to do whatever makes him comfortable. Which is an entirely new problem because if your goal is to make him comfortable, then neither of you will be leaving this bed for the foreseeable future and at some point people will start looking for you.
Seungcheol rolls over. You take advantage of the opportunity for free command of his lap, forcing his pants down until he’s as bare as you. He preens under your wide eye stare, ego flaring under your wide eye stare. Leaning back on his palms, he grows cocky from your silence.
“Like what you see?” Seungcheol goads.
Your gaze cuts to his, eyebrows arched in your own challenge. A flare of fear zaps up his spine. 
He loves it.
Seungcheol is accustomed to taking the lead in bed. Some girls want him to be domineering, others prefer to sit back while he naturally takes the reins. 
But you’ve butt heads with him in every aspect of life, hopefully this would be no different. He’s hoping you might even try telling him exactly how you want him.
“You’re so hard for me,” you whisper. Your hand reaches out, thumbing at the leaking head of his cock with seductive confidence. 
Seungcheol nods in agreement at a loss of words under your touch.
Your head cocks to the side curiously, empty hand slipping between your thighs, making space for the head of his cock to nudge against your clit. “Do you wanna fuck me?” 
He nods again.
“Good,” you smile. You hide in his neck, nosing along the tense muscles straining to break out from his skin. “I thought about you fucking me like this. When we were in high school. I thought—I wanted you to be the first.”
“Really?” he asked dazedly. 
Your first. Not Stoner Ricky from Calculus. But him. You wanted Seungcheol to have you first, possible be the only one for each other. It’s a lie if he didn’t think of you in the back of his mom’s car while Tiffany Something took his virginity. Your lips, your voice instead of her nasally pornographic sounds, when he came it was only because he closed his eyes and thought of you. 
He tells you that and earns a deep bite on his shoulder. 
You continue, “I’d watch porn or read those smut books, and I always pictured it was you.”
“God.”
You sink on his cock, pussy stretched on his length, stars flaring across your vision. There's not enough air in the room to breathe through the tight squeeze wrecking your guts. You’re in the position of control but Seungcheol can already see submission gaining control. You won’t admit you can handle his cock but pride warms his veins at how much energy it takes for your stunted rhythm. 
“Fuck,” you curse.
 “Yeah? Feels good having your pussy stuff with my cock?” Your nails bite into his chest in response. Pink lines flare in their wake, one he hopes are still there tomorrow. 
Seungcheol drags you into a kiss, a dirty culmination of teeth and tongue and your satisfied sighs and his needy grunts. You suck at his lips, focused on that rather than riding him. 
“Taping out already?” 
You ignore the dig. It takes the barest twinge of his arm and you’re rolling on your back, legs spread in invitation. He sinks into the space reserved just for him, sliding deeper than before. Now he’s the one that needs a moment. Squeezed to death between your walls is the sweet torture he’s ever experienced, the wet sloppy drag of your cunt, bare for him and him alone. 
It’s an act of bravery to pull out for the sake of thrusting back in. If he was confident enough you could get off without his hips sinking deeper then he’d never do it, content to keep his cock wedge inside you and play with your clit and tits until you cry from the pleasure. But he really wants to fuck you. 
“God, feels so good.” You break. He keeps his pace steady, building you up until you muster a way to squeeze him tighter and his skins on fire. 
He hoists your leg up, a deeper stretch that leaves him muttering about how good you feel. The wet slap of your cunt grows louder, sloppy clashes of his pelvis against yours.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants, stomach caving. The urge to cum is nipping at his heels but Seungcheol is better than that. Better than a quick fuck, at least for this first time. He wants to hear more of your sounds, fold you in every position he can imagine.
“More,” you grunt. “Fuck me harder, baby.”
He gives you what you ask for; plowing you into the mattress until the headboard slaps against the wall. “You like that?”
“Love it—shit. I love it.” You prop yourself up, shoving a hand between your bodies to swipe messy strokes across your clit. Seungcheol collects more sounds from the back of your throat, rough growls and stuttered squeaks. His cock is heavy in your guts, soaked with your arousal and his cum.
Your mouth finds his. Panting breath and loose tangles of lips. It’s a race against time with his vision bleached white. Your stomach caves with effort to meet each stroke with one of your own. 
“I love you,” he groans. 
You clench at his words, growing wetter if possible. Flailing against the bed, he hooks your other knee under his elbow and presses flat, pinning you down under his mercy. “I love you,” you whine back. “I-I—”
Your orgasm floods your veins, brain fuzzy and disconnected from anything beyond Seungcheol. He takes over the circles around your clit. Calloused fingers providing sick friction until you can’t take anymore.
“Wanna feel you come, Cheolie. Please,” you beg.
Something snaps and he’s rushing to pull out, jerking off over your stomach with your hand to help.
Rope after rope shines in the dim moonlight. He can’t even try to pretend the thrill of cumming inside isn’t on the forefront of his mind as the drips of his spend stare back at him. But you look like a fantasy come true cover in his cum, skinned flushed, eyes glazed and chest heaving. His own Venus come to life.
He pushes back in, spent cock sensitive to the squeeze of your cunt. Seungcheol doesn't want to be anywhere else. Now that he has you, he can't imagine a moment without you.
Sinking the weight of his hips, your legs lock him in. A combination of cum, sweat, arousal, and a few tears sticks between your sweltering bodies. Neither of you care, too enamored with cataloguing every bare inch of skin with in reach of your mouths.
‘Ugh,'' you groan. “I need a shower.” 
In the bathroom, where so many horrible dangerous thoughts have plagued Seungcheol since the start of this trip, it’s peaceful. The thrum of the shower drowns out any sound beyond your sleepy huffs and his hums of content. 
As the water heats you press him into the edge of the sink, kissing him as if there's all the time in the world to do just that. That seed of need that has been growing steadily in his gut since he kissed you in the garden comes alive again. You seem to ignore the prod at your thigh though so Seungcheol ignores it too and shepherds you into the stall.
He washes your back with soapy hands and you coif his hair into a shampoo mohawk and it’s feel right no matter how ridiculous he probably looks. You twist every time he touches your waist, shrieking in laughter because you hate being tickled.
Seungcheol is happy. It floods his veins, shoots through the tips of his fingers tracing your hip, forcing a content grin on his lips despite the fatigue of the day. He rests his forehead against your own and takes his first deep breath since New Years.
“I don’t want this to change anything."
“What?” you pull away.
“No!” Seugncehol shouts, wincing at the voluming. “Not—I didn’t mean that I just meant…I-I want you to feel like you can tell me anything. No more secrets. Okay? No matter what changes between us you're still my best friend. If I'm acting like an ass I want you to tell me. If you change your mind then-"
You watch him, features softening. “I won't."
You distract him with your own touches; it’s nice at first. Then it’s nothing short of blissful agony. Teasing nails across his stomach and sides, firm against his body in a way that leaves him weak and wanting. His heart thuds sporadically under your lips as his cock swells against your stomach.
“Y/N,” he sighs.
You kneel in front of him, smirking at how easy he is. You rub his cock with a slick grip. Your mouth comes into play slowly; kissing his hip, then his thigh, your tongue drags up the side until you suck the head between your lips and Seungcheol almost collapses.
You hold his thighs, guiding him further down your throat until there's no more space and you gag. He isn’t sure what to do with his hands but it doesn’t matter because he’s cumming. Fast.
Without missing a beat, you swallow everything he gives you. 
“Oh god—fuck.”
“Good?” you ask, still licking against the head of his cock.
Rather than answer the obvious, he pulls you to your feet with a gentle kiss to your forehead. He’ll make it up to you back in bed. For right now, you curl into his chest, tracing shapes into his collarbone as the water slowly turns cold. 
He pats you dry, ruffling your hair in the humid bathroom with all the time in the world before dragging you back to bed. You snuggle under the covers, still naked. Seungcheol joins immediately, rolling on top of you and caging his arms on either side of your head.
“Hi,” you smile from underneath him.
He can’t help but grin back. “Hi.”
You make love slowly this time. Your back to his chest, Seungcheol curled around you like a second skin, whispering his adoration in your ear until you lurch and cum with a cry. Then he does it again. And one more time because nothing is better than the taste of his name on your tongue.
This time, when Seungcheol finishes, it’s inside you. And when he tries to pull out, you protest with a sleepy threat before slipping into the land of dreams.
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“Well, well, well,” Jeonghan tsks from the foot of the bed. “What do we have here?”
You’re still curled in Seungcheol’s arms, bare skin on bare skin only obscured by the blanket he had half a mind to drag over your two in the early hours of the morning. He’s still inside you for Christ Sake. 
And yet Jeonghan and Sofie stand like two cats who caught the canary; unperturbed by the state of things. More like they’re delighted.
It might go down as the shortest honeymoon in history because Seungcheol is going to murder them.
“Aren’t you supposed to be on a boat in Greece somewhere?” Seungcheol croaks, pulling you closer and forcing the blanket overhead. Maybe if he ignores them long enough they’ll go away.
“We were just leaving and wanted to say goodbye since some people decided to ditch our wedding. Now I see why.”
“Jeonghan,” you croak.
Jeonghan preens smugly. “Yes, whore?” 
 “Get out or I’ll show Sofie that video of you from Halloween.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“What video from Halloween?” Sofie asks.
“Jeonghan,” you warn. You’ll do it. The video of Jeonghan sobbing in a party city wig about how much he liked Sofie before they started dating is one of the few pieces of blackmail against him. 
“Fine. But when I’m back next month I want an explanation.”
“What video from Halloween?” She asks again as Jeonghan pushes her out the door.
“I hate him,” you say.
Seungcheol hums his agreement against your shoulder, tracing the skin with his lips until you shiver. “Me too.”
“Now, are you gonna do something about that,” you rock back into his pelvis, a tight squeeze around his cock he bucks into. “Or can I get up?”
“Roll over.”
Seungcheol fucks you for the nth time in so few hours. You whine and whimper and melt into the mattress under his weight, face buried in the pillows in an effort to stay quiet. He doesn’t care that the sun is heavy in the sky and half the house must be able to hear the way he groans around the syllables of your name. 
He doesn’t care one bit.
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Seungcheol has seen you in plenty of relationships, been in several of his own, but he’s never been in a relationship with you.
Turns out all the daydreaming and what-ifs couldn't come close to reality.
It’s better.
Most things are still the same. You two still bicker about everything. He finds your hair all over his apartment. His clothes magically disappear from his closet only to turn up at your place. You call him a stubborn jackass and he calls you a drama queen (both in regards to how he loads the dishwasher).
And he loves that even while dating you two refuse to change. 
But Seungcheol also loves all the new things. The firsts you get to share.
The first time you visit home as a couple, your mom spots him kissing along your knuckles as you approach the house and she starts crying. Loudly. He spots his dad hand his mom twenty bucks but not before your dad hands over another ten.
Apparently, everyone was waiting for this to happen. 
His dad claps him on the shoulder and your dad shakes his hand and suddenly he’s no longer Seungcheol, childhood best friend who lived down the street. He is Seungcheol, boyfriend. He’s known your parents since he was in elementary school and his mom texts you more frequently than her own son.
But none that matters because, at the ripe age of thirty, you two are banned from sleeping over during the visit for the first time in your lives.
He’s got a suspicion it’s because none of them know how to handle their kids finally dating. You and Seungcheol have never been normal but they’re trying. 
Even if he sneaks out like he’s a teenager and climbs into your window in the dead of night. Now that's a fantasy come to life.
Back in the city Seungcheol discovers more ways things have changed.
You spend almost every night at Seungcheol’s apartment. When your sublease ends after four months there isn’t a big production about moving in with him. You had a key since he moved into the place years ago. Your stuff ends up in his spare room, which becomes ‘your’ room but you both call it the guest room and it's a new level of domesticity he’s never had.
In the mornings, you find him in the bathroom if he forgot to drop a good morning kiss on your forehead (something he’s started doing on purpose because you totter in with your eyes still closed and pajamas wrinkled, diving straight into his chest and grumbling incoherently until he gives in). It’s enough to make his heart squeeze even after the hundredth time). 
Or how you constantly find a reason to touch him. Curled around his back while he makes dinner, shimmying under his arm when he’s reading case files on the couch. A hand through his hair while you cuddle in bed. Your shared bed, in your shared apartment. Which he is embarrassingly giddy about but you are too and that makes him feel better. You meet for lunch, at either of your offices, and he can see the instinct to drop into his lap making your fingers twitch but only because his own flex with the urge to pull you in first.
The first time you go to a baseball game together and end up on the kiss cam and he doesn’t have to pretend to not notice or awkwardly wait for the cameraman to catch the hint, because you’re kissing him until his ears grow hot and the crowd hoots wildly.
In the best way possible it’s weird. He doesn’t know how to date someone he’s been in love with for as long as he can remember. A lot of it feels like being friends. Like whatever was there before is the bones and all the new things filled in the empty space between.
There isn’t really a guide or set timeline but you’re figuring it out. 
And Jeonghan helps. In his own Jeonghan way.
“You guys have been softcore dating since highschool. Just think of it like dogs. You’ve dated for a year now, right? That's like seven years for your guys.”
Seungcheol will tell you later tonight, after you’ve said yes, how the last part of your trio gave his blessing. How Sofie helped him pick the ring (which was really Seungcheol picking the ring and her providing moral support via muzzling her husband).
But for right now, he watches you across the table, laughing at something the waiter said, the weight of the velvet box burning a hole in his pocket.
And he knows the next first you have together will be the best one yet.
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Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie
@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire
@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi
@writingbarnes @dokyeomkyeom @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @idkjustlovingbts
@wobblewobble822 @futuristicenemychaos @seungkw1 @horanghaezone @jespecially
@scoupsjin @isabellah29 @luvseungcheol @crisle19 @iamawkwardandshy
@lukeys-giggle
Fic taglist:
@sourkimchi @aaniag @sillygirl-bee17 @xcynthiaaa @bath1lda
@blondechann @accalus @talk-inriddles @junniesoleilkth @yoongznme
@christinewithluv @rakshithanotrao @cherryluster @sarahmoonlxght-blog @linminhgk
@min-core @helloiliketits @atsumulovemail @whoa-jo @asyre
@telepathylftv @firstmatecherry @wonuskie  @softiesoga @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan
@maxsanee @mischiefmanaged90 @randomworker @bouclesdefeu
@smoooore @hanipopeta
© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited
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heejake-hoon · 2 months
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Enhypen hyung line when you send them a dirty text while being surrounded by family (mdni)
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Heeseung: You try to bite back a smirk as you covertly type out the risky text under the table. 'Out with the fam but all I can think about is your thick cock stretching me open later…' Send. A few moments pass before your phone vibrates. You sneak a glance to see Heeseung's intense eyes narrow at you from across the room, his plush lips already parting subtly. There's a slight flush creeping up the back of his neck as he reads it. 'I dunno baby, might need you to send me a pic to really get me going while we're around your parents…' he types back with a heated look. You mouth an innocent 'What?' at him, going for wide-eyed before quickly typing. 'Like maybe a sneak peek of what's waiting for that huge cock later?' You can see the way Heeseung clenches his jaw, chest subtly rising and falling as his thick arms tense involuntarily. He's definitely getting riled already. With a wicked grin you fire off another. 'I'll be dripping and ready for you to just slam in to the hilt…' Heeseung's eyes damn near smolder as he hungrily drinks in your body before slowly, purposefully dropping his gaze straight to your lap. Even from here you can see the slight telltale tenting of his slacks as his tongue sweeps over his lower lip. Your phone buzzes again. 'Better be ready for this, baby…cuz I'm gonna wreck you raw when we're alone.' Arousal zings straight to your core at the sultry promise. Looked like getting him all worked up wasn't so hard after all.
Jay: You try not to squirm at the positively sinful text you just sent to Jay while surrounded by his whole family for dinner. 'I'm so fucking horny just thinking about those big hands spreading me open later…' You covertly peek up through your lashes in time to catch the harsh inhale and clenched jaw as he reads it. Jay's piercing eyes instantly find yours in a dark glare that has you suppressing a shudder. 'Pretty fuckin' ballsy to be sending me dirty texts while my parents are sitting right there,' he types with one thick finger. A fresh wave of arousal washes over you at the thought of getting caught. You shift minutely in your chair. 'Well maybe if you werent so goddamn thick I wouldn't be gagging for it all the time…' The muffled growl tears from Jay's throat as he reads the words, powerful forearms tensing against the tabletop. For a torturous moment you match his blazing gaze, skating your tongue over your lower lip. "Everything okay over there, son?" his father pipes up in concern. You have to duck your head to hide the smirk at Jay's visible stiffening. "Y-yeah. Just…something annoying. But it's fine." Your phone buzzes again as you catch that scorching dark look. 'This ain't over. Soon as we're alone I'm making you choke on this dick for being such a fuckin' tease…' You stifle a desperate whimper at the promise, already throbbing between your thighs at the mere thought.
Jake: You make sure Jake is within view before tapping out the scandalous text behind your back. 'God I can't wait to go home and just bury my face between your thighs later…' There's a choked sort of sound from across the room as Jake reads it, chest instantly heaving. You peek through your lashes to see his face flushed, jaw clenched and nostrils flaring as his fingers fly over his phone. 'Fuck, you tryna get me all worked up in front of your parents like this?' You bite your lip hard as you tap out your response. 'Maybe…get you so fucking horny you're leaking by the time I wrap my lips around that huge dick…' Jake damn near snarls as he reads it, free hand clenching into a white-knuckled fist in his lap. You can see the desperation kindling behind those heated eyes when they catch yours, speaking right to the molten need already pooling low in your stomach. Another buzz. 'Jesus fucking Christ. So fucking bad I wanna bend you over this table & eat you out raw till you're soaked and screaming for it…' You have to sink your teeth into your fist to muffle the desperate whine that escapes your throat. Your thighs press together instinctively, whole body quivering at the explicit visual his words evoke. You catch Jake's heated gaze again from across the room, holding it boldly as you mouth 'Bathroom?' at him with a devilish arch of your brow. His jaw clenches almost violently at the unspoken suggestion, thick chest visibly heaving beneath his shirt as that muscle in his throat bobs. For a moment, you think the sheer naked want coursing through his expression might make him snap and take you right there on the damn table in front of everyone. Then your phone buzzes harshly in your lap. 'You got 2 minutes to get that sexy ass in the bathroom before I come drag you there myself…'
Sunghoon: You try not to squirm in your seat as you send off that deliciously filthy text to Sunghoon while surrounded by his whole family. 'I'm so fucking horny just thinking about your huge cock deep in my guts later…' There's a tense pause before your phone buzzes with his response. You covertly peek up to see Sunghoon's intense gaze burning into you from down the table, jaw visibly clenched and the tips of his ears already turning pink. 'You keep talking shit like that and I'm gonna make you finish me under this table…' he warns, dark promise simmering behind those heated eyes. You bite back a whimper at the thought, surreptitiously crossing and squeezing your thighs together as another rush of arousal washes over you. Before you can overthink it, you're quickly tapping back with one hand discreetly in your lap. 'Maybe I want you to use me like a fuckdoll while your whole family's right here…' The way Sunghoon's chest expands with a sharp inhale, thick forearms flexing involuntarily against the tabletop…God, you're already soaked just imagining having that powerful frame pinning you down. Completely at his mercy while he claimed what was his with brutal need. Another buzz drags your attention back to your phone as you mouth goes dry. 'Be careful what you wish for, baby girl… you know damn well that this dick doesn't play fair.' Your cunt clenches hard at the utter sin dripping from those words. You can already picture him forcing your thighs apart to make room for his thick length sinking into your helpless body with deep, punishing rolls of his hips-- A sudden insistent nudge against your ankle makes you start. You glance up to find Sunghoon's smoldering gaze trained on you as he slowly, deliberately grinds the toe of his boot against your inner calf in a blatant tease. The breath stutters from your lips as your thighs instinctively part slightly, already desperate for more friction against your dripping center. Sunghoon's darkly amused smirk is the only warning before he's trailing burning paths all along your legs with little aborted thrusts and caresses. You have to sink your teeth into your knuckles to stifle a moan, whole body quivering with the effort of keeping some semblance of composure...
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jakesangel · 4 months
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sick jake ><
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what jake wants jake gets but sick jake ? it will be the end for you. either that he pretends to be unable to do anything or is hyper, he would give you the time of your life.
when he gets his mouth ulcer, he knows the medecine will hurt him more so he wouldn't stop moving making it hard for the members of the staff to heal him. they even had to tie him up. but once you're in his life ? ? he would do it on purpose just to get you to heal him. he would whine out loud not caring of the situation or the place he is. he would jump around not wanting to be tied up again. he just doesn't want anyone else to heal him. he is all yours, why would him ? so when sunghoon had the idea to call you over, he was so happy. the happiest, he would grin so hard, making everyone in the room realized of his true intentions. but even if he didn't, he was suddenly patently waiting for you, sitting on the dance practice couch, a contrast from few seconds ago.
once you arrive w the members telling you what's happening and giving you the médecine, you would see a jake already looking at you, sitting w his legs moving around, his body buzzing of excitement. his smile would get bigger when he sees you approching with the medecine. he knows it will hurt, but knowing you'd be the one healing him, eases him. hi would he says w the biggest grin, you know you didn't have time come here, not even hiding the biggest lie he ever told you. he would grab your hands, leading you on his lap and then, put them on your thighs, lovingly strocking them, while you'd open the medecine. could you hold my face while you'll do it, princess ? he would expendantly ask, his face held high, eyes round to look at you only. please ?
but when jake is having a cold, he will act like a baby. he would either come over or beg u through text for you to come to him. he wouldn't even open the front door, pretending that he can't get out of his bed. he'd prepare himself : once you open the door he will cough n pretend his voice is roak, but it never works. once he his the door opens, he knows he won. he knows you are going to baby him and that he has you, all for himself, and maybe you'd even stay for the night. so every single time, he would smile so big once he sees you. and it is an endearing sight to see : he had himself wrapped up in his blanket, his head the only thing that can be seen. my princess finally came to save me, he'd dramatically say. kiss me i'm literally to die !, if he is contagious you'll obviously try to protest making him only whine louder so that's it. that's how i'm going ? without even a kiss from my princess. oh life hates me, or just negotiate with you please, baby ? i promise you ill take such good care of you if you do get sick. please ?
sick jake will not use hands. he would keep them under the blanket waiting for you to feed him, either food or the medicine. so when you're so close to him, on his bed, feeding him, he keeps it cool finally getting what he wants.he'd stop trying to kiss you but only opening and closing his mouth only when the spoon is approaching or leaving his face. jake would only move when he knows you guys will cuddle. so when you come back from the kitchen, his dishes on the sink, he'd have the blanket open for you. babe, could you touch my hair while we watch a movie, please ? he'd confide you. and that's only then he will fall asleep, your chest is pressed by his back, your hand on his hair.
notes : jake politely asking is making me insane but he is the cutest puppy he would so do this :(
@imaluckygirl @luvj4key @heeseungswifefr @stwrjvke @goldenretrieverjakezgirlbaby @jaeyunpinkyring
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drurrito · 5 months
Text
Night Drive (18+)
Summary: You get a new car
AN: 18+ only y'all--we're gonna pretend that there are plenty of other self-driving cars that aren't t*sla...I hope this makes up for me not putting out another part of AYTO yet! All mistakes are mine.
Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader
Warnings: cursing; reader has a dick; dom//powerbottom!Natasha; sub//top!reader
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You sink lower into your seat as you rev the engine of your new car with the widest grin Natasha can't see. Natasha looks hardly impressed from your view beyond the barely-legal tint of the windows.
You decide to roll down your window and plead your case.
"Hey baby."
Natasha rolls her eyes. You already screw yourself coming right out the gate with pleasantries, Natasha knows you're desperate to get on her good side when you do that.
"So...what do you think?" You vaguely gesture to the rest of the car and Natasha scoffs.
"I think you were a finance bro in your past life," she crosses her arms, and you relent, "probably," you sing as you round the car to lean against the hood. The gun metal gray still holds a shine in the moonlight. This wasn't an impulse purchase, you had been talking about buying a new car for a while now. You would go on little rants about the specs of certain cars whenever you saw them on the road or on TV. It's not like you were waiting when you had the money, being an avenger was a pretty-paying gig. You were just waiting for the right one, at the right time--a method you mastered by the time Natasha came around.
"Wanna go for a joyride?" You offer, already leaning off the hood and spinning the key in your hand.
Natasha wants to keep giving you a hard time, but you look so damn good in front of your sleek, expensive, new backdrop. Your muscles bulge under your fitted black shirt, and you have the cockiest smile on your face, like you knew you were winning this race.
"And if we get pulled over?"
"With SHIELD plates? I'm not worried about it," it almost comes out like it's scripted. You're not above rehearsing a speech for Natasha if it means getting your way. You're pulling out all the stops, but Natasha wants to remind you who's really behind the wheel. Her eyes rake over you slowly, intensely--the same way fresh lava travels over earth. You're standing at attention and you don't even know it.
"You gonna open the door for me or just stand there like you forgot your manners?" Natasha watches in amusement as you fumble for the door handle. She slides onto the cool leather while you make your way into the driver's seat yet again. You wait patiently for her to get comfortable and buckle in.
It's only when you rev the engine with a wink that Natasha muses this might have been a bad idea on her part. You punch the gas pedal and she's quickly acquainted with the back of the cherry red bucket seat.
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Natasha decides that she doesn't like going fast unless the fate of the world depends on it. She also decides this is the one exception when she sees the freeway system of veins in your forearms as you grip the steering wheel. Natasha feels like she's flying when she watches your triceps flex while you turn the wheel or do something as mundane as turning on her seat heater.
Natasha slides her seatbelt off in a way that doesn't set off the sensor--she didn't want this moment to be ruined by a lecture on why it's important to buckle-up. You're too distracted by the beat of your night drive playlist to notice her crawling closer to you.
You feel her lips on the shell of your ear, "eyes on the road, got it?"
"Yes ma'am," you try to say cooly, you don't dare chance a look over at her. She hums with satisfaction and rewards you with a kiss on the skin behind your ear and a nibble on your lobe that tightens the coil in your belly.
Natasha sucks and licks at your neck while her deft fingers work to undo your belt and zipper. Her hand explores the border of your waistband before dipping under and finding what it was looking for. You let out a whisper of a gasp when Natasha admires your full length and girth. Your grip on the wheel tightens, Natasha chuckles when she hears the leather under your fingers groan.
Natasha begins to stroke you slowly, agonizingly so, but that doesn't keep your hips from bucking up into her hand.
"Tash," that only elicits a rumble against your neck. Natasha's other hand curls around your neck and gives a light squeeze that makes your vision blur for a second. Her stroking picks up speed, you have to work impossibly hard to keep your foot off the brakes.
"Natasha, please."
"I like the way you say please, baby," she mumbles with your skin between her teeth.
"What did I tell you?"
"Eyes on the road, ma'am," you say with a quickness that makes the corner of her lips curl up in satisfaction.
"So smart," she praises before you helplessly watch her head lower until you feel her lips greet your cock with a sloppy kiss. You throw your head back against your seat with a pathetic moan.
"So desperate," Natasha teases, and your mind feels like it's going a million miles an hour--multitasking is usually your strong suit, but it seems damn near impossible now.
Natasha's tongue travels the length of you, your hips feebly buck into her mouth when she finally grants you entrance. You slow your speed to safely take a hand off the wheel and hold her hair back. She thanks you with a gentle squeeze on your thigh and the prettiest sounds you could have only ever imagined.
Your playlist is already repeating itself by the time Natasha comes up for air. She can barely hear it over your panting anyway. You're rock hard and right where she wants you.
"The car can drive itself, you know," you breathe out. Natasha's brow quirks with curiosity.
"Show me," it's a gentle command, but your fingers rush to press the right sequence of buttons. You ease the seat back with haste, and Natasha just lets you sit there for a few beats to take you in and also leave you in suspense.
Your fingers dumbly flex against your legs while you wait for further instruction from Natasha. She doesn't even try to hide her smirk when your eyes begin to dart between the road and her.
"You're not gonna let us crash right, dove?" Natasha's finger traces a feather-light trail down your arm. It's a genuine question, even though she knows you probably did some sizable research on the safety features of the car before you even entertained buying it.
"No ma'am, you're precious cargo," you give an easy smile and that's Natasha's cue to move and straddle your lap. You help her with your hands on her hips, your hands quickly retreating to your sides when she's situated over you.
Natasha swears your eyes are sparkling as you watch her slide her panties to the side with one hand and take your length in the other.
"Eyes on me, baby, just for a second," she coos and you obey. Natasha can't help but admire the striations of your muscles working overtime to restrain yourself. You've always been intoxicatingly obedient, even when it's downright painful. Your eyes are locked on Natasha's, you have to bite your lip to stifle a moan when she finally eases down onto your cock. She's already working her hips in a way that has your entire body buzzing. You can count on one hand how many cars have passed you by this whole time, just like you expected.
Your fingers dig into the leather of your seat, your eyes periodically glancing at the road to make sure it hasn't veered off course for whatever reason. Natasha steals a few sloppy kisses when she leans into you to get a better angle and bounce on your cock at a speed that should be illegal.
"Tash, I'm gonna-," you choke out between labored breaths.
"What was that baby?" she leans back and oh god, you wish you had the kind of self-control your car has right now. You feel like you're going to pass out watching Natasha ride your cock, you're too blissed out to realize that she's spelling out 'm-i-n-e-' with her hips.
"I'm gonna come so fast."
"I know baby."
That seals your fate. Your arm reaches back to brace yourself against the seat. With a long and drawn-out "fuck," Natasha feels you push deeper into her, filling her up with every last drop of you. You both fall into a sweaty, moaning heap against the seat. Your body trembling with aftershocks as Natasha scratches at the skin on the back of your neck. You only get to drink this feeling in for a few seconds until you see red and blue flashing lights in your rearview mirror.
"Shit," you sit up and Natasha freezes when she sees what you see. You feverishly check your speedometer, you're not speeding. You start rifling through your brain to see if you forgot to do something, insurance? Plates? Registration?
Your questions are answered when you watch the cop car speed off into the night. Natasha lets out a heavy sigh of relief that makes your dick twitch, reminding you both that you're still inside of her.
"Told you," you try not to sound so exasperated. Natasha just rolls her eyes before kissing your temple. Night drives might just become a regular thing now.
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thefatedthoughtofyou · 7 months
Text
He's been at Steve's house a week before he manages to gather up the courage to ask.
He shuffles into the living room, Steve's old slippers on his feet, Steve's old pajamas hanging off him. He'd lost weight in the hospital. And hadn't gained much back yet, still in too much pain to really have an appetite. But this, it needed doing. He needed it done.
"Steve?" He asks, throat clicking, voice scratchy from underuse. Steve looks away from the tv immediately, hits the mute button, eyes wide and on Eddie.
"Hey. You okay?" He asks, turning his whole body on the couch, towards Eddie, giving him his full attention.
Eddie just nods. Slowly. His eyes going unfocused, staring at the floor.
"Eddie?" And Steve's in front of him now, he hadn't even heard him get up.
"Hmm?" He hums in his throat, eyes still feeling foggy.
"Did you need something?" Steve asks, Eddie's eyes focus, the concern in Steve's voice bring him back into his body. He looks at Steve, nods, says,
"I need you to cut my hair." His lip trembles, he digs his teeth in.
"You... what?" Steve's confused. Rightfully so. Eddie swallows around the fire in his throat, tries to explain it to Steve. This thing he can barley figure out himself. Has a half formed idea at best. He wipes at his nose with the back of his hand, Steve steps a little closer.
"It's just- it keeps- I keep laying on it. And it... pulls. And I'm sleeping and it pulls and I wake up and I can't breathe and it's-" he inhales, sharp and shakey and then Steve is there, his hands on Eddie's shoulders.
"Okay. It's okay. I'll do it. Whatever you want Ed's." He pulls Eddie upstairs, into his bathroom. Stands with him in front of the mirror, scissors in hand.
"Where do you want it?" Steve asks, his eyes meeting Eddie's in the mirror. Eddie takes a deep breath, brings his hand up, winces at the pull on his ribs but keeps going.
"Above my shoulders. But like... I wanna still be able to tuck it behind my ears?" He's not sure why it comes out as a question, but Steve just nods, Eddie sees his lips twitch into the start of a smile before dropping again. He reach up, drags his fingers genlty through Eddie hair.
His stomach sinks, his hair is gross. He hasn't washed it in days. Too tired. Too much pain. Too much effort.
"Sorry my hair's gross." He mumbles, lips barley moving.
"It's not. It's fine." Steve assures him, his voice soft, sections out a small lock of hair, he looks at Eddie in the mirror again.
"You're sure about this?" He asks, he looks sad. Eddie hates it. But also doesn't. Because it means Steve sees him, understands him, and how important his hair is to him.
But it doesn't matter right now. That his hair is a peice of him, a peice of the Eddie he'd built to keep himself safe. A peice of his armor.
"I'm sure. Please." He isn't begging, exactly, but his hands fist in his pajama pants, and it feels like it anyway.
"I'm gonna go just above your shoulder at first okay? And then if you want more off we can do that." Steve waits for Eddie to agree and then starts cutting.
Eddie closes his eyes when the scissors sink through his hair. Keeps them closed as Steve works. He stops a few cuts in and tells Eddie to wait there. Eddie sits on the toilet seat as he waits for Steve to come back.
He brings a radio with him, clicks in one of the tapes Eddie made him, and gets back to work. Eddie's eyes stay closed. He finds himself smiling as he listens to Steve hum behind him. Scrunches his nose when Steve full on sings a few times.
Not because he's bad. He's got a really nice voice actually. Eddie loves listening to him sing. But if he didn't scrunch his face he might to do something else instead, something stupid, with Steve so close.
It only takes a couple songs before Steve's hands are on his shoulders, gentle, reassuring, an anchor.
"Okay. It's done. Or at least. Might be. I can take more off if you need me too." His voice is soft in Eddie's ear, Eddie can feel the heat of his chest on his back he's so close.
He opens his eyes and feels his heart flutter in his chest. His head swimming a little. His hair hadn't been this short since junior year. He can see Steve watching him in the mirror.
"Good?" He asks, dragging his lip into his mouth and letting it go again.
"I think so." Eddie says, feeling a bit dazzed, a bit dizzy. And then Steve fucking reaches up with both hands, tucks Eddie's hair behind his ears genlty, his fingers moving down his neck to rest back on his shoulders.
"I could take another inch. It'd still fit behind your ears." Steve's eyes are moving over his head, like he's doing some complex math equation. Eddie wants to cry. His chest tight.
"Okay. Take it." He says, Steve's eyes move to his in their reflections again.
"Yeah?" Steve asks, reaching up and smoothing his hand over Eddie's hair. Eddie nods.
"Yeah. One more inch." He breathes the words out, like he just needs them gone, out of his mouth. Steve smiles at him, untucks his hair from his ears and starts cutting again.
Eddie watches him this time. Watches the way his tongue sticks out as he concentrates, measuring Eddie's hair between his fingers before he cuts. His tongue peaking out between his lips, brow furrowed in concentration.
Eddie watches him and tries to convince himself he actually wanted it shorter. And maybe he did. But he knows too, that he didn't want Steve to stop touching him. Steve's eyes meet his in the mirror and he smiles again. Eddie looks away. His cheeks burning.
"Okay. You're done Munson." His voice is teasing, it makes Eddie's stomach flutter.
"Thanks. Harrington." He teases back. Too soft. He knows. But he can't help it. His voice is stuck in his throat. Steve snorts as Eddie turns, takes a step toward the door.
"Actually. Can I-" Steve stops, his hand curling around Eddie's bicep, stopping him there. Eddie looks at him. Waiting.
"Can I wash your hair for you?" Steve asks, his voice quiet, Eddie barely hears it over the radio.
"My...?" Is Eddie's articulate reply.
"Please? It'll make you feel better. I- I think." Steve stammers a bit, always so endearing when he does that. Eddie loves when he's flustered.
"I uh... yeah okay. If you want." Eddie shrugs, tries to act normal. Like any of this is normal. And Steve fucking beams at him, that beautiful smile on full display.
"Okay cool. Just uh... here you can sit here while I get this cleaned up and get a towel and I'll be right back." He's talking fast, his hands flailing and jumping around as he talks. Eddie just nods, smiling at him as he watches him toss Eddie's chopped hair into the trash. Watches him take a lock of it and tie it in a knot, tells Eddie he'll put it somewhere safe. So they'll know when it's fully grown out again.
Steve wipes up the counter and disappears, comes back with two towels a few seconds later. Instructs Eddie to sit on the floor. He sets a towel down for him to sit on and lays the other over the side of the tub.
Eddie lets Steve guide him. His hands gentle as he lowers Eddie's head back over the tub, asks if he's comfortable, Eddie hums an affirmation. Steve makes sure the water is warm, not too hot, because Eddie doesn't like hot water. He gets it perfect. And then starts pouring water onto Eddie's hair.
Eddie's not sure where he got the cup. Or if it was already there for some reason. He means to ask but Steve's fingers sink into his hair and his brain short circuits. The shampoo smells amazing. Minty. It tingles against his scalp in the best way as Steve's fingers move in slow circles.
Eddie's eyes fall closed. He's sure he makes some obscene noise but Steve is kind enough not to comment. His fingers working magic in Eddie's hair. He rinses with warm water, the contrast from the cool minty feeling making Eddie shiver.
He hears Steve laugh a quiet laugh as he does and smiles himself. He hears another bottle pop open and closed and then Steve's fingers are back. Working the conditioner into his hair slowly, massaging it into his scalp as well. His hands moving slowly, with a purpose, for what feels like hours. He pulls back eventually, fingers dragging slowly through Eddie's hair as he goes.
"I'm gonna let that sit for about two minutes and then we'll rinse okay? You doin okay? Not in pain are you?" Steve all but whispers in Eddie's ear. The radio is still playing in the background. But Eddie couldn't tell you a single fucking song that had played since Steve started touching him.
"I'm good. Kinda tired. But that might just be your magic fingers." He peaks one eye open, watches as Steve laughs, shakes his head. He closes his eye again and laughs too. Only it wasn't a joke. Not really. Steve's fingers were magic. Just like the rest of him.
Steve hums along to Queen's Radio Ga Ga as they wait, Eddie tapping out the beat on his thigh as Steve hums and sways. The song ends and Steve scoots closer.
"Ready?" He asks, turning the water back on.
"As I'll ever be." Eddie deadpans, scooting back a bit from where he'd slid down.
"You're not gonna try and put products in my hair and blow dry it are you?" Eddie asks as Steve starts pouring water over him, fingers moving quicker now, moving his hair around to get it clean, he snorts again.
"No. Just wanted to get you clean." He says, pouring one last cup of water over his hair and turning the tap off. He grabs at each side of the towel under Eddie's neck and lifts, pulling Eddie up and wrapping his hair in one smooth motion. Eddie's eyes land on him and he can't help it.
"So my hair was gross. I knew it." He sighs, watches Steve's nose crinkle.
"It really wasn't that bad. But you thought it was. So i figured this would help." Steve shrugged, like it was nothing. Eddie bit his lip as Steve patted and scrunched his hair in the towel, being careful not to pull.
He claps his hands down on his thighs and helps Eddie get back on his feet. Pulls him genlty to stand in front of the mirror again and smiles soflty when Eddie takes the towel off his head and drags his own fingers through his hair.
It's short, leveled at his chin, a little above when he tucks it behind his ears. And he feels... better. Lighter. He shoves his hands up into the back of it, taking a deep breathe when his fingers drag over his neck, it makes him shiver.
"Fuck. I'm gonna be cold now." He mutters, chuckling in his throat, he hadn't thought about that.
"I'll keep you warm." Steve's voice is soft, when he speaks. The tape in the deck clicks and goes quiet as they stare at each other in the mirror.
"I just wanted you to feel better. But I'll gladly keep you warm too. Whatever you need Eddie. I- I mean I'm here. For you. Not goin anywhere." He shrugs after he mumbles through his little confession, his eyes on the floor when he turns to Eddie.
"I feel better." Eddie whispers, bites his lip and decides to be brave.
He steps forward, into Steve's space, Steve lifts his head, hazel eyes darting around Eddie's face. Eddie hears his breath stutter when he leans closer, presses his lips to Steve's cheek, firm.
Wanting no doubt in Steve's mind that Eddie means this. Means to kiss him. Means to pull him into a tight hug after. Means to hum happily into Steve's neck when Steve pulls him close, arms wrapping around Eddie's skinny frame and holding him tight.
"I'm not going anywhere either." Eddie breathes into his shoulder, presses another kiss there, into his shirt, like a promise. Steve squeezes him tighter, Eddie thinks he might be crying. His chest fluttering against Eddie's as he breathes shakily.
"Can I sleep in your bed tonight?" Eddie asks, lets Steve pull away a bit so he can see him. Eddie was right, there are tears in his eyes, but he's smiling as he looks at Eddie.
"Yeah. Course you can. You can sleep there every night if you want. Forever." Steve says, nuzzles into Eddie touch as he wipes tears away from his flushed cheeks.
"Forever huh?" Eddie teases, kissing acoss Steve's cheeks genlty as he laughs, it's wet, and wobbly, and Eddie is so fucking in love with him already.
"Yeah. Forever. Or however long you want me I guess." He shrugs again, dismissive, as if he really thinks Eddie would ever give him up.
"Forever sounds good to me. Not fucking letting you go now I've got you." Eddie whispers, his hands holding Steve's face, Steve's hands on his wrists, holding him too.
"You're gonna keep me forever?" Steve asks, his lip trembling as he looks at Eddie with hope in his teary eyes.
"Forever and ever, if I can." Eddie nods, and it seems to break Steve. He sighs, grabs at Eddie's pajama shirt and tugs him forward. Their lips crash together, a little rough at first, their teeth clicking until Steve seems to calm and slow down. His lips move genlty against Eddie's, soft and slow, and when he pulls back he's smiling again, his crooked little half smile that Eddie loves so much.
Steve scrunches his hair a few more times and then drags Eddie upstairs, gets them both comfy in his bed. And he holds Eddie as they fall alseep, pressing kisses into his hair and against his temple before sleep takes him.
Eddie wakes up warm. Drapped across Steve's chest as the sun hits them. He feels lips press into his hair, smiles when Steve makes exaggerated kissy noises. But he keeps his eyes closed, nuzzles deeper into Steve as he feels his fingers press into his hair.
Eddie hums as they drag through a few times, nimbly untangling rats or snags as they move. He sinks deeper into Steve, his heart fluttering as Steve's hand moves through his hair genlty, scratching at his scalp as he goes, before settling against the back of his neck, his thumb moving in slow cirles against the newly exposed skin.
Eddie whimpers into Steve's chest and snuggles closer, Steve keeping him warm, just like he promised. Eddie couldn't wait to spend forever with him.
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hungharrington · 25 days
Note
Steve realizing his gf is stressed and forcing her to take a mid day break and she's just like babe I'm not in the mood and he's like ok let's take a break for 5 min a mere 5 min like u can def afford that and she's like fine and she sets a timer but by the time the 5 min r up Steve is already eating her out and he's like the timer is up and she's so into in and forgotten that she's like the what?? And Steve just chuckles smugly and goes back down
bro.... did u send this cos u know i've been stressed with grad school??? either way YUM i ate it tf up this was delicious thank you for gracing my inbox with it <3 fem!reader, 1.2k, MDNI this entire blog is 18+
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As Steve sets his watch, your thoughts drift to the assignment sitting on your desk, due by the end of the week.
You really shouldn't be taking a break — you're not sure you can actually afford to. Well, your stress certainly makes it feel that way.
But Steve had badgered you lovingly with his wandering hands around your waist, fingers skirting beneath your shirt, and his hot kiss mouthing softly against your neck.
You probably shouldn't be taking a break but also, you're only human. Steve knows just how to press your buttons.
"I've set the timer," Steve murmurs, his voice somewhere behind you on the bed. His big hands smooth up your calves, pressing in his adoring intent. You can't see the heavy-lidded gaze he has, betraying a different intent. "Five minutes, okay?
"Okay," You agree tiredly, voice muffled into the pillow of your bed. "Work your magic, babe."
You're laying on your front, face pressed into pillow, your arms caged around your head. You're well and truly enjoying a moment to rest your eyes and you're betting it'll only get better when Steve starts his massage.
I mean, that's what you expect he meant when he begged you to let him 'help you relax' for five minutes.
Steve makes a little amused noise from behind you, fully intending on working a certain kind of magic.
His hands continue their slow peruse, his fingers spread wide and exploring the expanse of your thighs as they continue to slide up. He presses and soothes the muscles, getting you more relaxed with each touch. You huff a little sigh into the pillow, eyes sliding closed, and your body grows more pliant.
His hands keep moving up, up, up, until the fabric of your skirt is getting bunched up beneath them. Something nervous rises in your chest at the sudden new display of skin. Still, you don't move, almost eager to see what he does next.
Your face is still hidden away in the pillow when his hands begin to knead the skin where your thigh meets your ass. A soft, pleased noise wiggles loose in your chest.
Then—a ghost of a touch pulls a sudden small gasp from your lungs. A finger drags down the centre of your panties, just the slightest pressure.
"Yeah?" Steve probes gently, his voice low and raspy. The weight of his finger remains but he doesn't move it, waiting for your answer.
You're in two minds about it for only a split-second before your hair scrunches up as you nod your head against the pillow. The finger moves again, drawing down to trace over your clit lightly. Your face simmers with heat, even if you've done much nastier things with Steve before.
"Good girl," Steve praises. "Letting herself relax,"
His words sink into you, sweet as honey and warm as a sunbeam. Something twists low in your stomach and you have to resist the urge to readjust your thighs. If your face was simmering before, it's burning now.
Steve's hands move with a precision of well-known love. He knows what you like and he knows exactly how to get you riled up.
"Been working so hard, baby," He murmurs. "Know you have."
He continues his absentminded massage, hands rubbing and kneading the flesh of your ass. One finger always remains pressed against your core, petting against your slowly dampening panties in a way that makes you want to quiver. You bury your stuttering breaths into the pillow beneath you.
"Y'stop taking care of yourself, don't you?" You can barely focus on the questions as they drift out of Steve's mouth. Your eyes are closed again but this time in that growing lull of pleasure that's building up within you. "That's why I'm here though, isn't it? To help my girl relax,"
The damp spot on your panties grows under Steve's masterful strokes and soon, it's wet and sticky. You can't help but wonder if they're translucent but now—fuck, what pair are you even wearing? The thought melts away as Steve's skillful thumb finds your clit and draws a perfect circle around it, teasing you in just the way you like.
"Feelin' more relaxed?" Steve asks. You can't tell if you're imagining the smug tone in his voice but either way, he's a bastard for touching your clit and asking you a question at the same time.
You open your mouth to give an answer and let out a pitiful moan instead.
Glorious heat flames your face but you can't help how it fuels your mounting lust. He's driving you insane with these little touches.
"Good girl," Steve coos, as if your moan is the perfect answer to his question. You make another pathetic noise in response, feeling your hips rock back, desperate for a little more friction.
A disappointed whine creeps out when the touch is suddenly gone and Steve chuckles at the sound of it. "Won't be long, honey. Can you prop these up for me please?"
His hands have shifted, spread across to hold your hips lightly. You kick your legs up without question, enough to move them up, elevating your hips off the bed just barely.
Steve still gives you as praising noise, running his hands down your ass reverently. "That's it, baby. Doin' so good for me, aren't you?"
You're beyond words at this point so you answer him with another pitiful whimper. It's heaven to Steve's ears.
You hear the comforter on the bed rustle as Steve readjusts behind you and get all of a few seconds to wonder what before the heat of his breath ghosts along your inner thigh. Your tummy twists up in anticipation and you clench without thinking.
Steve chuckles again, his hands landing delicately on your either side of your hips once more.
He moves to grip a cheek in each hand and a lust-tinged embarrassment burns your face as he spreads you, your sopping cunt on display, shielded only by your soaked panties. A soft groan of appreciation pulls from his throat without permission.
"God, look at you," He murmurs.
One of his thumbs dips in, pressing beneath the elastic of your panties and moving to pull them to the side. A string of slick sticks to them and Steve groans again as he watching, this time louder. "Fuck, baby, you're soaked. Look at you, practically cryin' for it, aren't you?"
You whimper into the pillow, breath held as you wait in agony for Steve to do anything.
Faintly behind you, there's a small beep of a watch. Steve makes a disgruntled noise and shuffles for a moment, til the beeping stops.
"Five minutes, honey." He says, that almost smug tone to his words once more.
The words reach your ears but mean almost nothing to you. You have to resist the urge to arch your back and whine for him to keep going. But Steve won't have said that for nothing.
"W-What?" You manage to say, the word muffled into the pillow.
"Never mind, baby," He says, words dripping in a smugness that only drives up your body temperature. Your nipples peak in response and you feel your cunt aching for some touch. Steve obliges almost instantly, his thumb tracing down your folds. "Don’t worry bout it. You just sit there and take it like a good girl."
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ghostssimp · 2 months
Text
Arguing// Aegon Targaryen
You will know where the inspiration took off when you read the lines, and I'm on my knees for Aegon in that scene, I don't care. Rhaenyra, you are my Queen, but your brother is so damn fine, I'm sorry.
Once again, I want to thank you all for your support and reposts of my works! I haven't been writing in a long time and to have such a support on my works when I get back into it means a lot!
18+
I've deacided that if you you feel like it, you could ask for a request and I would be writing it! Feel free!
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It always seemed like he was impossible to talk to now that you've grown. Head up into his ass, not listening, always being on onto his way, and the thing that got on your nerves is that he looked too damn good.
It was just a month in when the two of you got married by your grandfather's wish. Alicent was first to be against it, after all you're Rhaenyra's daughter. Would you turn her own son against her? Of course not, you didn't give a damn about her.
But just maybe, she was the reason behind Aegon's actions. Aegon was an asshole, bit before when tje two of you were kids, he was always there for you. You didn't have much girls around here. Well, Haelena was there but most of the time you didn't understand what she was talking about. It was mostly bugs and she has ton of them but still it seemed like she was in her own world.
So you had to be with your brothers and uncles. Sometimes your brothers would get on your nerves, by saying that you're a girl and that you can't play with them, or even train. You always wanted to be part of them, but felt a little rejected. Aegon was there to give you a hand and pull you towards them, sometimes just the two of you would run off somewhere to have hours of talking alone. It all seemed perfect then.
Now, your dear husband is ignoring you, wenting off to get drunk and be with some whores. It was getting to you slowly, your heart clenching at the tought of him with someone else. It's not fair for him to be so good to you, then throw you away like a rug.
The night has rollled around and you retreated into your shared chambers. It felt like you didn't have a single friend in this damn castle as your family wasn't here. You already started to wonder if your letters have made it to them in the last month, as you didn't recieve any of them. You had a feeling that certain someone, has their claws in it. Here and there, you would go to your grandfather and sit by his bed. It hurted you to see him in this state. You would read to him, all until Alicent would come and woosh you out.
Targaryen, all alone amongst them. What a scary tought.
The doors of your bedroom flew open as your eyes fell on your husband who had a frown on his face as he entered. He didn't even seem drunk, for some reason. He may have took a cup or two, but not more. His eyes searched the room as they fell on you. They softened a little at the sight. You wore your nightgown, your hair let down in silver, silky waves as your violet eyes stared at him in wonder. You looked like a little deer, just waiting for the predator to sink it's teeth into you.
"Aegon?" Your voice got him out of the haze and the frown made it's way back.
"What seems to trouble you, husband?" You step towards him and reach out your hand, but before you can even touch him, he slaps it away. You pull back shocked. Your mouth little gaped as you couldn't believe it. "Aegon, what has gotten into you!"
He groans rolling his eyes and turning his back away from you, undoing his shirt roughly. "What has gotten into me?" He was irritaded and his voice deep and above whisper.
"The fact that you seem so comftrable next to male servants, laughing and touching their hands. So happy and out of your mind that you can't spare your husband a glare." He says angrily, throwing his shirt away, his bare back staring at you as he leans on a chair staring at the fire. He was out of mind to think that you would give anyone else attention than him.
You did laugh with servants, but because today you didn't look where were you going and you collided with them. You felt sorry for you to be so into your head and you helped them up, laughing about the situation.
The confusion you had has been replaced with anger. "The fuck did you say?" You saw his back freezing at your tone. He turns around, his head leaned a little with a deep frown. "Did you just cuss?"
"I did. And I will fucking again, for your head to be so fucking high in your ass that you blame me for something you think you saw, while you go and fuck the others as your wife waits for you, in your shared fucking chambers and hopes that just for one damn moment you would come and be the same sweet boy you once were." You stood with your hands opened wide as anger seeped off of you.
Something in him steered for a moment. To see you like this. To voice it off. To show fire in your eyes. His mother may have been wrong about you. "Please, and you have to go to a first men to find comfort in." He shakes his head at you, still blinded by his jealousy.
You chuckle at him biting your tounge. "I have no fucking friend here Aegon. No one. And for you to come and throw accusations like this, at my face. You fucking idiot. Haven't you seen how much I wanted to be your wife? How much I wanted to be given to you? And instead, you go off and fuck the others. You had me just once, on our wedding night and you were drunk."
You smirk knowing the next words would sting him. "Couldn't even satifsy a woman." You see something in his eyes flash.
His breathing deepens. His eyes narrow at you. Did he heard you right? Couldn't satisfy? Maybe you were right, because he didn't show you what you truly meant. What he needed to do to you. His eyes fell to your nightgown. He looks back, your eyes meeting his.
"Take it off." His voice deep and raspy. His eyes dark and hungry. He takes a slow step towards you, but you didn't move an inch. "Take it off before I rip it off." He stood in front of you and wanted to wipe off that challenging look out of your face.
You felt your stomach taking turns. You have never seen Aegon like this, moving to you like you were a prey. You have hit the nerve. "You wouldn't dare." You pull your chin up to look at him even more challenging. Huff came out of him. Then a deep chuckle, raspy and dark. It made your legs almost weak to see him smirk like that.
You weren't sure how it happened so fast, but your nightgown has been ripped and on the floor as you were pinned under him on the bed. Gasp left your lips as his hand found your needy cunt, spreading the wetness around. His fingers worked his way as your moan was captured with his lips against yours. You did have to touch yourself for nights wishing your husband to be here to help you, but you couldn't imagine anything would feel like this.
The hunger you both sweeped off, the desire. It was all bottled up and finally it's seeping out as he pulls himself out of his tightt pants and pushes into you slowly as his hand found your throat. He looks at you deep in the eye as he pulls out and slams back into you, another whimper and moan getting out of your lips.
"I have dared. And I find it stimulating."
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a-hazbin-reader · 7 months
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Hey did you get my ask/request of Alastor and Wife!reader having an argument and Alastor says something horrible to her leaving him to have to make up for it?
I did, I just have a lot of stuff in my inbox
Alastor X Reader Headcanons
✅️Romantic
❌️Platonic
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TW: Alastor being in the DOGHOUSE
Description: ☝️⬆️
Alastor doesn't mind fighting, likes to bicker with and irritate those around him as some strange show of dominance
But his wife is an exception, he hates fighting with his wife and goes to great lengths to avoid it
Despite his efforts, you two do still fight from time to time and he hates it, he tries so hard to reign in that cruel part of him
He doesn't really even remember what started the fight, probably something dangerous he did that upset you
Something like the Adam stunt
And he probably tried to brush it off, his pride not letting him admit that your fears were warranted
You were understandably getting worked up over his dismissal, and he was getting irritated that you wouldn't just drop it
Everyone else in the hotel had scattered and hidden the moment you two started to uncharacteristically raise your voices at each other
Angel had to grab Niffy to stop her from watching the entire argument play out
He just doesn't want to scare you with the idea of losing him, he wants to be your strong, invincible husband
It makes him uncomfortable that you see beyond the powerful overlord demon and instead zero in on the man beneath it all
"Darling, I would understand your fears if I hadn't come back to you in one piece, but I'm here. With you. Perfectly fine."
You could rip your hair out due to frustration, almost in tears, how could he not understand how you felt?
"Alastor! That's not the point! You can't be so reckless! It's not just you that you have to worry about anymore! You have a wife! You have to live and be safe for me!"
He fears a pang of anger over being told what to do, rage and irritation over the unintentional reminder of his failure to win
Which makes his mind wander to his deal, his fucking leash
The words are out of his mouth before he even realizes what he's saying
"If I knew that everything I do had to be approved by you then, I would've rethought this whole marriage ordeal."
Alastor regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, his ears folding back at the sight of your hurt expression
Your eyes have tears in them but you're doing your best to hold them in, turning on your heel to leave the room
"Wait-Darling, I didn't-"
"Just...give me some space, Alastor."
He regrets it so much, watching you walk away from him when he should be begging for forgiveness
He hates seeing you so upset but he hates being the reason for it even more
Alastor tries to give you the space you asked for, but it's difficult when all he wants to do is make up with you already
But he also doesn't want to actually talk about what happened
So he breaks fairly easily when he sees you again, coming up behind you and hugging you
Only to be shrugged off when he goes for a small kiss, left with a sinking feeling in his stomach
"I said to give me space, I'm not ready to talk to you yet."
Normally, Alastor loves it when you're cruel and cold, finds it a little hot, but when it's aimed at him? He hates it so fucking much
Literally looks like a kicked puppy when you walk away from him again, Charlie and Vaggie looking at anything but him
"You know what, Charlie? I do see that crack in the wall!"
He tries again later, sitting next to you and trying to wrap an arm around your shoulders while the radio bursts to life with a love song
Only to be rewarded with an ill hidden sniffle and you immediately getting up to walk away from him
"If you're not going to apologize and have a genuine conversation with me then don't even bother."
It's driving Alastor crazy not being able to be with you, to not be able to properly make up with you
But he still doesn't want to admit he messed up or have that uncomfortable conversation with you
So he tries lavish gifts and other romantic gestures that all get rejected or given to Niffty to do whatever she wants with them
"Yay!! I'm going to poison these and give them to the mother bugs!!"
Okay...maybe Angel should have these...
Alastor is starting to understand that he can't just gloss over this one
He understands it a little more later that night when you go to bed without him, and he's left too nervous to follow after you
Several hours into the night, the guilt eats at him and he breaks, sneaking into the bedroom
You're awake, your eyes red rimmed from crying but you manage to give him a glare before turning your back to him
"Darling, I believe I owe you an apology..."
The way your tense body relaxes is all he needs, crawling into bed with you and pulling you to his chest
It's a difficult pill for him to swallow, so it's easier for him to have these conversations with you like this
He doesn't want you to see his weakness even when he's laying it out for you
Luckily, Alastor is good with his words and you're willing to listen now that an apology is on the table
It's a long conversation that leaves you both sleepless and emotional in each other's arms
But things are settled and Alastor is forgiven, happy to be back in your good graces
He tried to be strong and hold himself back, he really did... but being without the warmth of your love was torture for him
It was a rough couple of hours for him
HA WHIPPED
"Angel, shut the fuck up before you get yourself killed!"
He's extra clingy and romantic with you for DAYS afterwards, making everyone else at the hotel practically nauseous
Except for Charlie, of course, she loves it
He's just so relieved that you've forgiven him, still disgusted with himself for even saying what he said
Asks you for yet another kiss that morning before Husk finally walks away, annoyed by Alastor's neediness
You don't mind your husband's clingy antics, enjoying the extra attention he's giving you
You should get mad at him more often
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lihhelsing · 1 month
Text
steddie | 1.6k | mature | angst
cw: mentions of parental abuse (verbal)
written for @steddieangstyaugust day 21
Prompt: Please
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The second Eddie steps into the kitchen, he knows something is wrong. 
Steve always says he doesn't mind doing the dishes and Eddie has given up on arguing with him about it long ago.
He watches as his boyfriend stands in front of the sink. On any day, he would find Steve whistling to some pop song, swaying his hips to whatever rhythm he has in his head as he soaps up their dishes. 
He's usually happy when he does it. Tells Eddie it always helps. And Eddie can't quite put his finger on what's wrong but he's definitely not happy. 
Eddie walks up to him slowly, and once he's a little closer he can see Steve's shoulders shaking. It's barely there and Eddie is unsure what to do, but when he reaches his hand and touches Steve, he knows that's the wrong choice.
Steve recoils, dropping whatever he was holding in his hand with a loud noise inside the sink and Eddie pulls back.
He's not sure what's happening, but he doesn't like it one bit. 
"Hey, hey. Steve. Look at me. What's wrong baby? 
Steve turns to him and his face is red and wet from the tears spilling down. Eddie feels his inside twisting, and his mind goes straight to Dustin and the kids. 
Something happened to them, and somehow Steve knows it and-
"P-please," Steve says, so fucking small. "Please, don't be mad."
Eddie frowns, his brain scrambling to catch up. 
"Why would I be mad?" 
At first, it seems like Steve's not going to say anything but then he moves to the side and Eddie sees the sink. 
The sink is a mess. And Steve is usually a neat guy so it takes Eddie one second to adjust. And then, he sees the blood.
It's not a lot of blood, but it's definitely blood. Eddie tries not to freak out because he knows it'll only make it worse
"What happened, sweetheart?" Usually, Steve loves when Eddie uses pet names, but today? Today he almost folds in on himself.
"I broke a-a mug," Steve says and Eddie has to hold himself together, afraid of hurting his feelings with the tiniest reaction.
"That's... ok," Eddie says, hoping that's the right answer. Steve doesn't relax but he also doesn't get worse, so he counts that as a win.
"No, Eddie. I broke a mug. And it's your favorite," Steve says and Eddie nods softly.
"Is it the Garfield one?" Eddie asks and Steve's eyes widen. He nods, doesn't meet his eyes. 
Eddie actually dislikes that mug. It was his father's and he felt obliged to keep it, but he kept hoping it would break. Nothing against Garfield, but he would much rather not have anything to remember his father by. 
"Well," Eddie looks at the sink, "I'll clean it. And you can go sit in the living room and I'll be there in a second to patch you up." 
Steve doesn't move. He just shakes his head and Eddie is a little lost. Maybe his hand is hurting so he tries to grab it but Steve flinches, back hitting the sink and making a pan slide down. 
"Baby, what... what is it?" Eddie asks. He's at a loss here and has no idea what to do. If nothing works, he'll have to call Robin because Steve is clearly about to have a breakdown.
"You're mad," Steve says. And... no. Eddie's not mad. Why would he be mad over a dumb mug? Even if it was his favorite, Eddie wouldn’t be made. Accidents happen and he’s honestly more worried that Steve is hurt than anything else.
"I'm not, Stevie,” he tries to sound sincere, but it’s like Steve has checked out of their conversation. Like he’s lost inside his own head.
"I broke your favorite mug. I made a... a mess. But I'm gonna clean it up." 
Eddie shakes his head. "You'll do no such thing. You're gonna go to the living room and you're gonna let me clean it. And then you’re going to wait for me because I need to take a look at your hand, need to make sure it’s just a superficial cut."
Eddie moves again and Steve freezes. 
"No! I'm gonna clean it," he says and Eddie is starting to get tired. He wants to fix it, he wants to help Steve, but he’s not sure how. 
There’s a little voice inside his head that tells him this is not about this particular mug on this particular day. Eddie likes to think he’s a nice boyfriend. Treats Steve well. Because he does. Never did anything to make Steve think he would be mad over a broken mug and definitely wouldn’t be mad about any mess. 
Everyone knows Steve is the one putting up with Eddie’s messy ass. 
Then, like a lightning bulb, something clicks, and Eddie decides to try something. 
"Steve," he says, voice stern, and Steve looks like he was expecting it. "Go to the living room. Right now. I'll be there in a second." 
Eddie hates the way his voice sounds. He’s not being rude, just a little more firm than he would usually be with Steve. 
Steve likes soft and sweet. But this seems to do the trick. He watches as Steve’s eyes fall to the ground with a small nod and then he walks away, pressing his hands together to keep the blood from dripping everywhere.
He sighs. He feels so out of his depth right now it's not even funny. He wants to call Buckley and ask her what she thinks, but he can’t right now. Steve would definitely hear it and that wouldn’t end up well. 
Eddie gets to cleaning. He collects the broken pieces and feels like the mug is mocking him, telling him how dumb and useless he is. Can’t even help his boyfriend.
He’s not in any rush. Feels like Steve could use the quiet time to calm down. To maybe tell Eddie what’s happening and then Eddie will fix it.
But that’s not what happens.
Steve is sitting on the couch, head low as he clutches his hand. His sweatpants are stained with blood and Eddie knows he'll have to ask Wayne how to clean them. 
"Steve," he says softly but even that makes him jump. He looks up at him and his eyes are glassy and distant. Eddie fucking hates it.
"I'm sorry," he says again and Eddie sighs. He doesn't know what's happening but he has a hunch and he's going to go with it. 
"It's ok. It was an accident," he says and he can see Steve shaking his head. "Stop. I'm talking now." 
Eddie's voice is calm but firm and Steve just nods, sniffling. 
"I wouldn't lie to you, would I?" Eddie asks.
Steve shakes his head. That's not enough. 
"Words, Steve. Would I lie to you?" 
"N-no," Steve says and Eddie offers him the hint of a smile. 
"Right. So, I'm not mad that you broke the mug, ok?" 
Steve nods. "Ok."
"I am mad, though," Eddie starts and he sees fear in Steve's eyes. His insides twist. He's either going to nail this or ruin his relationship. "That you hurt yourself and didn't call for me. Why didn't you call me for, Stevie?"
He says the last part a little softer. Steve's eyes are on him and this is it. Either he cracks him or fucks this up completely. 
"I... didn't want you to be mad," he says. 
"Because of the mug?" 
"Y-yeah," Steve's voice shakes and Eddie takes a step forward. "I didn't mean to, it slipped from my hand and broke, and I thought you would be mad." 
"Baby," Eddie says. It's hard to keep his stance. He wants to hold Steve and kiss him and promise him things are ok, but he needs Steve to see it first. "I wouldn't. I couldn't. You know that, don't you?" 
Steve doesn't seem sure but he nods. And it’s after a long sigh that he keeps talking, "my... dad.  He always got mad. Always yelled at me and called me stupid." 
Eddie sighs. Bingo. 
"I'm not your dad though, am I?" 
"N-no."
"Who am I?" Eddie asks and Steve looks at him and his face finally softens. 
"You're Eddie. My... boyfriend" 
Eddie smiles. "Yeah, I am. And I don't get mad, do I?"
"Only..." Steve says. He looks like a kid, afraid to get the answer wrong. "Only if I hurt myself and don't call you." 
Eddie feels his chest filling up with pride. He nods, takes a step forward, and puts his hand on Steve's face. 
"Yeah. That's right. Because it's ok to ask for help. I'll always help you, ok? I'll always take care of you, Stevie. And I'll never get mad at something like this, ok?" 
Steve's eyes flutter shut. He's calmer now. He nods and nuzzles Eddie's hand. 
"Ok, Eddie. Thank... thank you." 
Eddie caresses his face. "You're welcome, sweetheart. I got you, ok? Can I clean you up?" 
Steve nods. "Please."
God. Eddie's heart is in pieces right now. He's so sad and so angry at the same time. He wants to storm into the Harrington's house and beat the shit out of Richard Harrington. 
He remembers seeing Steve walking around in school. Hidden bruises that no one seemed to notice. But Eddie did. 
He's going to kill that motherfucker.
But not right now. 
Right now he's going to take Steve to the bathroom in their tiny apartment. And he's going to clean him up and patch his cut. And he's going to take him to bed, to cuddle him and whisper in his hair how much he loves him. 
How he's the best thing that has ever happened to him. How Steve makes him so, so happy. How he wants to spend the rest of his life with him. 
But tomorrow? Tomorrow he's going to make sure no one hurts Steve ever again. 
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puppyplayhouse · 1 month
Text
Thinking about mean Dom Chan
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Warnings: rough sex, degradation, hard dom Chan, drool.
You don't expect him to come home and immediately shove you to your knees, but you welcome it eagerly. You don't even hesitate when he pushes your face against his covered bulge, watching with an intense stare as you lap at his covered cock, drool causing wet splotches to paint the denim material. This is your happy place, after all.
He lets you go like that for a while. Watching you messily worship his cock in an almost pitiful attempt to earn something more from him. You do earn it, of course. You're always so good to him.
He'd slide his pants down painfully slowly, his underwear following. You know you have to wait for his approval, though, patiently waiting with your tongue our, panting like an eager puppy waiting for a treat. That's what you are, isn't it? An obedient pet for him to command.
He loves to tap the tip of his cock against your waiting tongue. You don't move either, unwavering as spit drips down your chin. You just sit, still as ever until he pets your cheek.
"Go ahead. Take it."
You sink down on his cock, completely ignoring your gag reflex. That's the only option you have when he's thrusting into your mouth, almost desperate and with little rhythm, the wet sounds of your throat wrapped around him keeping him in a daze.
He doesn't cum on your mouth though. No, he has other plans.
"Turn around. I wanna see how much of a mess you've made."
Your chest is pressed to the cold wood floor with little resistance, hips high in the air, and wiggling in a way that taunts him. He's almost cold as he kneels behind you, pressing two fingers into your already dripping cunt. You know better than to whine about wanting more as they massage your gspot for only a moment before their being replace by the tip of his cock pressing into you slowly, his hands taking a bruising grip of your hips as he bottoms out.
It's the only time he takes it slow. The initial thrust. Once he's savoured the feeling of your walls wrapped around him, he's switching to brute force, hand pinning you down by the back of your neck as he fucks you viciously, his voice dripping venom as he speaks.
"Filthy fucking thing. You're so fucking desperate, you know that? Showing off this pretty cunt any chance you get. It's never enough, is it? You're not happy unless you've got my cock buried in you."
He doesn't want a response, but he lets your quiet peas slip past without scolding you, a deep growl vibrating through his chest.
"My perfect fucking bitch. God, you're so fucking good, aren't you? Such a perfect fucking hole."
You're already too far gone, your head completely empty as spit pools under your cheek, you mouth open as a string of 'uh, uh, uh' is forced from you between pornographic moans and whines.
"My poor puppy. You're fucking pathetic. It's too good, isn't it? Dumb bitch can't even fucking think when I'm fucking you."
He doesn't pull out when he cums and that's a given. He loves how you keen as he fills you, watching his cum dripping down as it overflows. Sometimes he'll collect some on his fingers and shove them into your mouth, other times he'll tug you up and tell you to clean his cock, getting him worked up again. He's a little more gentle the second time around and that's when he'll finally make you cum, but only if you're good.
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becca-e-barnes · 2 months
Text
"Slippery When Wet."
Taking a quick jump back to the 'Shit He Said' series because I haven't given it nearly enough time.
I think I'd almost forgotten how it feels to be with someone who lets you feel like you're their entire focus. God, it's nice.
It's nice to spend time with someone who makes you feel so thrilled to be yourself. It's nice to want someone so intensely you can't wait to touch them again. Yeah, it's been nice 😵‍💫
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Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: Unprotected sex, cream pie, oral sex (f receiving), thigh fucking, alcohol mention
Summary: You and Bucky spend some time relaxing together
Minors, do not interact
"These reusable plastic cups might have to do." You're standing on your tiptoes, reaching into the cupboard in the Airbnb kitchen, searching for the one thing you hadn't thought to bring with you.
"Those would be perfect." You hear in response from the bedroom just down the hall. "The rules said 'No glass in the hot tub'."
A sensible rule and one you're more than content to abide by.
One rule of few.
"You can open the champagne bottle. I don't need to go home with a horrible injury." You tease, lifting two of the plastic cups and making your way outside. Sandals of some description would have been smart but it's only a few steps out to the tub.
The cover has already been removed, the water is still and it's hard not to pause for a second and admire the view. Rolling green hills, a lake in the distance, flowers all around the patio and the sun beginning to set, bringing a very slight chill to the evening air.
There couldn't be a more perfect evening to climb into a hot tub and enjoy the scenery.
So that's exactly what you do.
The water is warm as you sink down in, settling yourself into one of the grooves. The level comes to just above your shoulders, lapping against the bottom of your chin as you adjust and get comfortable, looking over the edge at your surroundings.
"We'd need be careful getting out. The steps are slippery when wet." Bucky doesn't take long to join you, reading from the sign on the fencing that was strategically placed to give you some privacy.
Who knew he's so into rules.
Settling beside him feels natural. It's familiar and comfortable and reassuring in a way you didn't know you needed.
He couldn't possibly know how you've craved him since you saw him last. You'll do everything you can to make him feel it though.
He pours champagne into the two little plastic cups, handing one to you before looking for the button that starts the bubbles.
You clink the cups together, taking a sip from your respective glasses while the jets burst to life around you both.
"It's such a mild evening." You hum, cuddling in against his side, enjoying the chaste kiss he leaves on the top of your head.
"It is." He agrees, tilting your chin up so your lips meet his.
They're warm and soft and plump and taste faintly of champagne and there's nothing else you'd rather do in that moment than kiss this man more.
You break away quickly though, choosing instead to spend the time catching up. You talk about work and how things have changed since you last met up. You talk about your plans, your hopes and your fears. He gives you perspectives you hadn't considered and advice you fully intend to take, all while curled up in the bubbling tub.
The champagne slowly disappears. The glasses are filled up again and then that disappears too. You laugh together. You tease each other. You enjoy the company of someone you'd like to see a whole lot more of but understandably can't.
He gives you a reasoned perspective on the things that bother you. Somehow, you don't feel silly telling him about the little things that upset you recently or the worries you have. He's understanding and considerate and so damn fun to be around.
You pepper kisses across his broad shoulders, absentmindedly play with the little short curls of hair on his chest and he lets you feel so entirely worshipped.
He holds you in a way that makes you feel entirely wanted; like all of you is exactly the way it's meant to be and there's nothing he'd dream of changing. It's so incredibly attractive to feel so wholly appreciated. You want him in the very same way and every touch reminds you of that.
All too soon, the sun sets over the hills. The bottle is empty and the water starts to get to a temperature that's just a little cooler than comfortable.
You could sit here with him forever and never run out of things to talk about. That said, your fingertips are beyond wrinkled by the water and it's probably time to call it a night.
Somewhere in those last 30 or so minutes, you realised you need him again. The moment you'd arrived here earlier, the curtains had been pulled and you'd taken the opportunity to relieve some stress before dinner but it's not enough.
"Can I show you what else is slippery when wet?" You tease, pressing your lips to his with an urgency that surprises you.
He seems entirely into that idea, pulling your body impossibly close, his hand gliding up the inside of your thigh to rub against the thin material of your bikini.
Squirming in his lap is becoming a bit of a theme.
Before you get too far, you carefully step out of the hot tub and scamper inside, letting him close up the tub while you rinse off the pool water in the shower very quickly.
The anticipation gets to you, much like it always does. It only ever adds to the fun.
By the time he's also rinsed and dried off, you're perched on the edge of the bed, enjoying the feeling of your own fingertip trailing lazily over your clit. Your legs are spread wide, giving him full view of your glistening, soaked sex.
"I've been dreaming of this." He mumbles, kneeling at the edge of the bed and replacing your fingertip with his tongue.
Fuck, he's so good at that. His tongue flicks and thrashes, his neck working overtime to deliver you a sensation that not comparable to anything else you've ever experienced. He groans as he licks your body, enjoying the taste of your arousal and the slick wetness coating his chin to his nose.
You could let him do that forever and never grow tired of it. Your fingers have woven through his hair at some point and your thighs have clamped tight around his ears.
While you don't want to, his neck will thank you for suggesting a change.
You tug him up, eager to taste your own arousal on his lips and tongue and he doesn't disappoint. His tongue glides against yours, his wet chin rubbing against you and the intensity leaves you totally breathless.
You're almost frantic in how you need him now. "Please. I want you." You practically whine, grasping his firming length and giving him a few slow strokes until he's totally ready.
"Your hand always feels better than my own." He half laughs, half gasps, grinding his hips in time with the movements of your hand.
It's needy and desperate from both of you, much like it was earlier with the tip of his dick nudging your clit perfectly while he fucked your thighs.
His length slides against your eager core, massaging your arousal against his dick. It feels almost luxurious to be able to take your time with him. There's no rush, other than that dictated by your own need.
Before long, he's sinking into your body with a low groan, enjoying the way he feels your heat engulfing his shaft.
"You're so fucking wet." He moans, bottoming out and kissing your shoulders.
You know you are and it's borderline embarrassing how quickly he was able to get you like that.
"Such a pretty angel." He pulls back, giving himself a chance to sink into you again and it steals the breath from both of you. "You feel like Heaven. You're so hot around my cock."
He's bound to still be sensitive from the round earlier that day but it doesn't stop him.
"God, you're going to earn every drop of cum I give you. I'm going to pump you so full." He's so delightfully filthy and you love hearing him talk to you like that.
Your hand weaves its way between your bodies, finding your throbbing, neglected clit and rubbing it in rough circles.
"You want to cum inside me this time?" You love how you never really know what to expect with him. He he pulled out earlier in the day, choosing to glaze your chest and tummy with an impressive load instead.
"I'd cum inside you every time if you didn't look so pretty covered in it." His thrusts are faster now, meeting the rhythm your fingers have dictated you need.
"I want you to cum inside me this time. Fill me until I'm dripping." The image in your head as you're saying it is enough to make you quiver. You're chasing your high far faster than you thought you'd be but you're sure he's not far behind you. The notion of his cum filling you is a love that you both share.
"Want to taste it inside you when I'm done. Let it leak out of you and then press it back in with my tongue."
That's all it takes. One filthy little fantasy and you're trembling, cumming so hard you see stars. You work yourself through your high, riding it out on his cock and you're vaguely aware that you've milked his release from him too. You feel him spilling inside you, blowing another huge load into your eager body with a low moan and a few curses.
When you're both spent, he collapses onto the bed beside you, pulling you close to him for a cuddle.
"Give me a few seconds. Then I'll get to work." He hums, breathlessly.
719 notes · View notes
freyaphoria · 2 months
Text
Ateez Reactions: You want to keep your hoodie/t-shirt on (maknae line)
hyung line
tw: gaining weight mentioned, being skinny memtioned, stretch marks, hurt-comfort, kissing, insecurities!! (idk why but i can't write tw properly)
taglist: @aim-blossom @itza-meee
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San
You had just finished the first month of your relationship with San, you didn't see each other often due to his work so you hadn't been physically intimate yet. Since you had been friends for a long time before becoming lovers, he knew well the things that you were confident in and those that you were not, and he always approached you with respect on these issues. He would try to cover up your shortcomings without letting you know, which is why you've never felt insecure around him before. But why do you feel like you're going to sink into the ground right now?
San was on a week-long vacation and wanted to spend his vacation with you. You are also excited to spend time with him. San had booked a room at a nice a hotel with sea view, and things happened faster than you expected and now you were under him, waiting for his next move.
You were feeling insecure because of your skinny body compared to his wide and muscular body. San was always a gym freak and loved bodybuilding. What if he doesn't like your skinny body?
His hands were touching every part of your body he could find. He never let go, as if you would disappear if he left you for even a moment. "Are you sure? If you don't stop me now, I won't be able to stop again." He asked you without looking up from his buried head in your neck. Your hands were pulling on his hair and you pulled a little hard because you were nervous. San looked up at you because he thought you wanted him to stop. "Love? Is there something wrong?" You were torn between telling him or not, but if you didn't tell him about your insecurity and he found out later, he would be sad and maybe disappointed with you; you didn't know, you were so overwhelmed right now.
"I don't want to take off my t-shirt because I'm so skinny and I'll look bad next to you, you won't like me." San looked at you for a while and laughed. But it wasn't a sarcastic laugh, it was like 'are you giving a fuck about this?'.
"You look bad next to me? Love, you are the hottest person I have ever seen and you call yourself bad? Huh?!" San pulled you closer and brought his face closer to yours. "You're so beautiful! Get that in your mind!" He started tickling you and you were squirming. "San- Sannie! Stop!-" You couldn't talk because you were laughing. He knew how to instantly lift your mood. This was a habit from your time as friends. If one of you was in a bad mood, the other would tickle them until they forgot about that thing.
"Okay okay! I give up!" He left you and you regained your breath. "Say it." "Say what?" "Say that you're beautiful or I'll tickle you again." "I am beautiful." You said, staring at him blankly for a moment before his hands moved back to your waist again. "But can I still keep my shirt on? To make me feel comfortable." "Of course, you are already so beautiful in every way." He nod his head before burying his head in your neck again and whispering into your ear the most beautiful words you've ever heard.
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Mingi
It wasn't unusual for you to get close in the studio. You've done it dozens of times before at Mingi's studio. But what was different was that you were insecure about your body these days because you thought you had gained weight. Mingi never commented on your size; He wouldn't talk to you critically, except to tell you how beautiful you were and that he adored you.
But when one of your close friends talked about your weight gain in a very humorous and derogatory way, you inevitably felt bad.
While Mingi was trying to write his new solo song, you were lying on the sofa in the studio and playing on your phone because you couldn't find anything to do. You were startled when Mingi suddenly pulled his chair back and turned towards you.
"Come here." He patted his lap. You lazyly got up and sat on his lap. This was also a habit between the two of you. Whenever Mingi was stressed, he would call you to his lap, hug you, and while your scent enchanted him, new ideas would come to his mind.
Mingi's hands began to wander over your body as he hugged you tightly. He started tugging on the thick hoodie you were wearing. When his breathing deepened, you understood what he wanted. “Put your arms up kitten, help me” he grabbed the hem of your hoodie and tried to lift it up. When you stopped him by grabbing his wrists, he looked at you confused. "I don't want to take it off." When you said it hesitantly, his eyes looked worried. "Did I do something? I'm sorry? Did I make you angry? Is it because of the cake I ate yesterday without realizing it was yours? Kitten, I didn't know it was really yours." If you weren't in a bad mood you'd giggle at him. "No, of course not. It's just... I gained weight and my body is not beautiful. I don't want you to see me like this." Mingi pulled you closer to him and hugged you again while stroking your hair. "Don't be ridiculous. I don't care even if you gain weight. I love you so much that even if you weigh 500 kilos, you will still be the most beautiful woman in the world." You giggled at him. "Is it possible to weigh 500 kilos?" Mingi pulled your hoodie down. "I don't know, maybe not?" You both laughed. "Would you feel more comfortable if we didn't take off your hoodie?" You nodded at him. “Okay kitten, I got you."
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Wooyoung
"Would you relax a bit?" It was the first time you and Wooyoung got this close; Yes, he was usually on you all the time, but this was different. You were in his dorm room and you were nervous because someone would break in at any moment, on top of that you were going to show him your body so openly for the first time, and he understood your nervousness. "What if someone sees it?" He was kissing you slowly. "There's no one in the dorm right now. Can you trust me for a bit?" You trusted him, and he didn't force you. At first you wanted to get closer, but then your insecurities took over and you started making excuses.
He pulled you into his lap and held your head in his hands. "Why are you nervous? If you don't want to, I can stop and we can continue our day as if it never happened." You shook your head. "I want, but..." "But what?" You avoided eye contact and started playing with the ends of your shirt. "But you know... I..." Your eyes met as he lowered his head to make eye contact with you. You took a deep breath and spoke. "I'm not happy with my body and I have stretch marks." He looked at you confused. "So? I have stretch marks too? What does this change?" You were too embarrassed to talk so you whined in his lap. He grabbed you under your arms and lifted you into the air, pulling you closer. "Look, if you worry about such small things, you'll miss the moment." His eyes were so full of love that they almost made you forget all your insecurities. "I know I just can't help it. Can I just keep my t-shirt on? Besides I'm scared that someone will come and see me. Please?" He grabbed you by your neck and gently pulled you down to his eye level and kissed you slowly on your lips. "I'm 100 percent sure no one will come, but as long as you're comfortable."
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Jongho
You and Jongho hadn't gotten physically intimate enough to take your clothes off yet. You would kiss and hug each other every day, but you wouldn't go that far. Jongho wanted to wait until you were ready and not bring it up so that you don't get nervous. But today, for the first time, when you said you were ready for him, you had doubts. Jongho never made a bad comment about your body, but you still didn't feel good about him seeing your body.
When you and Jongho were lying lazyly on the couch in the living room and the topic came up with physical intimacy, you gave him the green light, Jongho couldn't wait any longer, he changed his position, laid you on your back and started kissing you slowly. Your heart was beating so fast with excitement and tension that you thought he could hear it. He was kissing you deeper than you had ever kissed before, and you thought he was holding back until now. Since only the light of the television illuminated the room, you couldn't clearly see his facial expressions; you got nervous because you didn't know if he liked you, if he was enjoying you, if he was happy... You were afraid that anxiety would start to take over and ruin the mood. So you tried to pull away as his hands moved from your chin to your waist and he slowly started removing your top. You couldn't go back too far and held his hands.
"Don't." You were still kissing, but your pace slowed down. "Hm?" He hummed you without leaving your lips. You didn't know how to tell him. "Don't take off my hoodie." Jongho finally pulled away from you and you locked eyes. But his hands went to your hair and tucked the strand from your face under your ear. "Why? How will I see and feel you then?" You could feel your ears turning red with embarrassment. You mentally thanked the lack of light in the room. "You don't need to see my body because it's not beautiful-" He interrupted you by kissing you and whining against your lips. "Don't be ridiculous." "I'm not being ridiculous, I'm telling the truth."
He picked you up and placed you on his lap. "If you're comfortable, let's keep your clothes on, hm?" You nodded your head, too embarrassed to speak. "Look at me, doll." You lifted your head and looked at him. "It doesn't matter to me, stop stressing yourself. Besides, it makes me very angry that you are so beautiful and you treat yourself unfairly." Just as you were about to open your mouth and object, he interrupted you. "We can do it any way you want, as long as you feel comfortable and safe. Shall we go to the bedroom?"
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a/n: I finally completed it! Sannie's was a little long but... Anyway, I'll continue with yandere requests. Yunho is wrecking me these days, so don't be surprised if I post 50 yandere yunho at once. HE IS SO!?!?!?!???!?! You have to stop Jeong Yunho, my heart can't take it anymore.
I don't think anyone reads this a/n place lol so I'm going to ramble on around here from now on.
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lilaccmilk · 3 months
Text
If you think I'm pretty, lay your hands on me.
(know you can't stop thinkin' 'bout it)
rich vampire bf! goes feral after you ask his opinion while lingerie shopping; contains: smut obv, vampire stuff(blood drinking, fangs), mention of aphrodisiac
You were out shopping. After shopping for the clothes and all, you decided to buy lingerie. Confused on which one buy, you decided to send pictures of you in both lingeries to your boyfriend who was at work; asking him for his opinion.
First mistake.
He texted you to buy them both. “But it’s expensive babe” you said to the man monster. He scoffed and asked you to buy them both using his card. “Fine then. I’ll be sure to show everything that I bought to you tonight!! Like a fashion show!” you exclaimed.
Second mistake.
Your boyfriend encouraged you to buy more but you shot down that idea. “Lemme continue shopping now, bye, love you” you hung up the phone.
Returning home, you took a bath and wore your boyfriend’s hoodie.
Third mistake.
He loved seeing you in his clothes, liking how they were oversized on you. You being covered in his scent was another thing that calmed the beast inside of him. You hear the opening of door and rushed to greet your boyfriend. He said nothing but just inhaled your scent, pulling you closer.
“Go freshen up!! Have to show you the dresses” you excitedly said, “Hm sure, start with the lingerie f’me yeah?” He spoke in a strained voice, as if holding himself back.
A while later, he was sitting on the bed, waiting patiently. You tried on the flimsy clothing—as if it could be called that. You laughed to yourself. You had sent a picture of you in a different coloured one, but as a surprise you got it in your boyfriend’s favourite colour — royal blue. You stepped out in front of him and looked at him expectantly. “How is it?” You give him a twirl.
Fourth and final mistake. All of these mistakes now tumble down from the edge upon you and you’ve got the consequence, in the form of your vampire lover.
You barely turn to face him again, before a snarl rips put of his throat and in an instant he’s picking you up and throwing you on the bed, with a sense of utter urgency.
“Fucking hell, been teasing me all day, sending pictures of you dolled up and pretty while I’m at work” he grunts out staring at you with eyes darkened by lust. For a moment he looks more like an incubus than a vampire. But when he leans to kiss your neck, marking you as his, his sharp fangs grazing your skin, clear all your doubts. He sinks them into your neck, drinking your blood. The aphrodisiac in his fangs enter your bloodstream, making your mind hazy and overcome with clouds of lust.
He gets out of his clothes, resuming the assault on his neck. You writhe in pleasure and —rip!
You gasp as the lace fabric tears open like paper in the hands of your boyfriend. “That was expensive” you say in shock. “I’ll buy you ten more.” He grits out, “Focus on me.”
He runs his finger through your clit, “Haven’t even done anything and you’re so wet f’me?” He muses and brings his cock in line with your cunt. He slowly slides himself in you, letting out a low hiss and the tightness and warmth.
Without waiting for you to adjust, he starts thrusting himself at a brutal pace. “What were you thinking princess? That you can rile me up and be left unmarked?—hah!” He pants out between thrusts.
“Didn’t -hngg-mean to rile you up-ah” you pant out pathetically. All your thoughts leaking out of you and onto his cock. “But you did my love” he growled. He loved you sure, but right now he was fucking you like he doesn’t.
He looks like he is in a trance, watching his cock piston in and out, in and out, in–
“You.” Thrust. “Are.” Thrust. “Mine.” He ‘s got you in a mating press, your knees all the way over to your chest. You feel flames of pleasure lick up your insides, trying to bring you over the edge. It doesn’t help that the words from your boyfriend make you feel lewd.
“This pussy was –hah– made to be mine. You were made to be mine.” One last thrust and pleasure washes over you in overwhelming waves. Thick ropes of cum fill your pussy. You pant heavily, feeling tired.
By the time you think that he is done with you, you look like you’ve been thrown to the wolves. But no— he is a vampire— a creature of the night. And the night has only just begun. You riled up the beast and now you have to deal with the consequences.
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my ancestors must be feeling real proud of me rn 😌
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sp0o0kylights · 1 year
Text
Part One
The drive's short one. 
Steve gets out of his car, opening the passenger door for Chrissy and escorting her up to the house, quietly envisioning what Jason would look like if a real monster got him.
What would he say, staring down the crazy, five-starred head, filled with teeth and drool? Would he turn back? Or run?
(Steve swears he doesn't take great pleasure in imagining Carver getting eaten, but he'll admit to taking a little.)  
"Chrissy do you have any idea--oh." Mrs. Cunningham startles, grasping her robe at the front as she spots Steve standing next to her daughter.  
"Hi Miss Cunningham." He says.
"Hello." She says suspiciously. "And who are you?"
"I'm Steve Harrington, ma'am." He watches as her mother straightens immediately at his name, and sinks right into the ol' Harrington charm, knowing instantly it will work. "I know you were expecting Jason, but I'm afraid he wasn't able to drive Chrissy home." 
"Oh, Steve! It's so late I almost didn't recognize you." She titters, suspicion gone. "Your mother and I are on the same charity board." 
Of course they were.
"I thought you were dating that nice Nancy girl." She says with a squint that mimics Chrissy's, because even in the midst of a crisis he can't escape the gossip that is Hawkins upper echelon. 
"Nance is waiting in the car." Steve lies smoothly. "I just wanted to make sure Chrissy got home safe." 
"What happened?" Chrissy's father appears, ushering them both in while blatantly peering around them, eyes sweeping the street before closing the door.
Steve recognizes the move. He's checking for nosy neighbors. 
"Jason and I broke up." Chrissy admits.
"What?" 
"We..." She falters in front of her parents. 
"What happened to Jason?" Her father asks, tuning back in once they're safely away from peering eyes.
"I'm afraid Jason and some of his friends brought beer to the party." Steve steps in to explain.  
"Oh Chrissy, it's a high school party. That's no reason to break up with him." Her mother fusses, face flushing in embarrassment. Her eyes dart from her daughter to Steve and back, and Steve knows he needs to start damage control. 
If he plays it right he can burn Jason while he's at it. 
"He was horrible, mom. Just awful." Chrissy says, but Steve can tell she's shrinking under her mothers gaze. 
"He drank quite a lot, Miss Cunningham." With a theatrical wince, Steve turns to face Chrissy's dad, lowers his voice and says "I'm going to have to talk to Coach about it." 
He gets the intended response, which is a raised eyebrow. "That bad, huh?" 
Steve nods once, painting a pained smile on his face. "He made a real fool of himself tonight, Sir. The basketball team has a reputation to uphold." 
"Oh." Mrs. Cunningham says, hand fluttering in front of her face. "I never would have thought…"
"He's normally a good guy. I don't know what got into him." Steve has them both eating out of the palm of his hand, attention neatly off Chrissy and onto the story he's feeding them. 
Its worth it to see her shoulders relax. 
"I couldn't let him take Chrissy home in the state he was in Sir, and he got very…" 
Steve pauses. 
Fills his voice with tempered disappointment, channeling his dad. "Belligerent. Said some nasty things."  
"Really?" Mr. Cunningham says, with a low whistle, and Steve knows by his tone alone that he's bought in.
Hook, line, sinker.
Steve nods once. "I have to get back to my girlfriend, but Chrissy'" He turns earnestly here, to let her know he's not faking this next bit. "Let me know if Jason bothers you at school. I'll set him straight again if I have to." 
"Thank you Steve." Mr. Cunningham says, as Chrissy's mom hustles her daughter towards the kitchen. 
Steve shakes his hand, then waves at Crissy as she calls her own thank you over her shoulder, before disappearing out the door and back to his car.
The same one where Nancy very much isn't. 
That's a problem for tomorrow Steve.
xXx
Tomorrow Steve gets into an argument with Nancy. 
She can't recall that Jonathan took her home, or that he's bullshit, their whole relationship, bullshit--
But she also can't tell him she loves him.
So Steve snaps at her. Storms off.
 Play’s more basketball.
It takes less than two hours for him to get mopey and another three for him to spiral into deciding he was wrong somehow.
That's what his mom said all the time anyway, wasn't it? The man's always wrong Steven, and he's the man here so…
He gets flowers, chocolates, and fucking waylaid (by Dustin Henderson with his Grow a Monster) and things go sideways from there.
 Train tracks and a junkyard and demodogs make time speed up. An encounter with Billy and a dinner plate causes Steve's recollection of the evening to be fuzzy. 
He just knows that in the middle of dodging death, he has the realization that Nance wants to break up with him.
That he should let her. 
Even if it hurts, even if he doesn't want to. 
She wants to be let go.
So Steve does. He respects her, and when he has a moment after its all over, he tells her to go with Jonathan.
(At least he permanently gets the squirts out if this. Or at least everyone but Mike.
Even if most of them are shitheads and one of them's Hargrove's step sister.
It's--something.
But when Dustin keeps pestering him, demanding Steve drive him all over Hawkins and then drags him to the movies, well.
It might be the best something Steve's had in his life so far. )
xXx
"Oh shit. Is that from Caver?" Eddie asks, popping up near Steve's car like the clown in a jack in the box. 
"Carver can't hit for shit. This was Hargrove." Steve replies, attempting an eyeroll before remembering that his entire face is a bruise. 
One, giant, never ending bruise. 
"I guess his step sister gave him the slip to come hang out with these kids I watch sometimes. I didn't know she wasn't supposed to be there." Steve shrugs, because it's the technical truth. 
If you turn it sideways and squint anyway. 
"Asshole tried to threaten the kid Max is into by slamming him into a wall and screaming shit, so I stepped in, and--" He waves at his face. 
The same one he's already getting looks for. 
"I was winning." Steve sighs theatrically. "He broke a plate over my head."
The story seemed to freeze Eddie but he recovers with a quick shake of his head. 
"You poor thing." He tuts. "Let me guess--you were more worried about the hair than the wound?" 
Eddie's hands flutter like he's going to touch Steve's head but he seems to contain himself at the last minute.
The hospital threatened to buzz it for stitches." Steve says darkly, playing into the bit. 
(He had not gone to a hospital. 
None of them had.)  
"What would our King be without his crown of hair?" Eddie laments, in a falsetto that was half insult half oddly sincere. It was jarring in that it was hard to get a read on, but the more Steve was around the guy the less it seemed malicious and the more it came off  as just….goofy.
Eddie Munson, Steve decided, was not a freak.
 He was a dorky little weirdo, just like all the other kids Steve now hung out with. 
Just older, and with slightly better hair. 
"Hey Eddie." Another boy calls out, approaching cautiously. 
He's got a leather jacket on, and if Steve thinks hard enough he can sort of conjure up a memory of the guy at Eddie's lunch table, throwing a piece of bread at a pale sophomore decked out in plaid. "You good man?" 
"Yeah Jeff, just checkin' in on the Hair here." Eddie sticks a thumb towards Steve, who raises his hand and waves. 
The falsetto comes back, somehow higher as the older boy swoons over Steves arm. "Soothing his poor soul after that brute Hargrove almost killed him." 
"Has anyone ever told you you're a lot like Bugs Bunny?" Steve asks, the thought leaving his mouth the instant he had it.
(He doesn't care, it's a legitimate question.) 
It has the effect of making Munson look downright chuffed. "I have actually, but only by my Uncle." 
"Why are you checking in?" Jeff interrupts, before seeming to realize he said it out loud. " Ah, I mean--"
"Oh he didn't tell you?" Steve says, as casually as he can muster. "Eddie claimed me and Chrissy at a party last weekend." 
See Munson? Two people could play the weird bit game. 
They've attracted more of Eddie's friends now, two more boys in leather jackets edging closer like frightened deer. 
(One of which is the aforementioned younger man Jeff threw bread at, and Steve vaguely thinks the guy's name starts with a g.) 
"Apparently we're his minions now." Steve tells Jeff in a rather put upon manner. 
"It was just you, the fair maiden chose otherwise." Eddie counters dismissively, voice dropping down low. 
Steve snorts. Hums a sarcastic; "Like you'd let us choose." 
Eddie finally abandons whatever voice that was supposed to be (a villain, Steve thinks, and wonders if it hurts Eddies throat to drop from a false high to a deep low that quickly.)  to say:
 "Mock me all you like, Harrington, but you can't deny the bit worked." 
Steve automatically went for another eye roll, and gets a flash of pain for it. "Who said I was mocking you, you dork? Just stating facts." 
Yet again, Eddie reacts weird to the comment. He looks almost bashful for a second, before he recovers, tugging his hair in front of his face as he plays with it.
The bell rings once in warning, and Steve makes a face towards the doors. 
"I gotta go, Mrs Clicks out to fail me. See you around, Eddie. Jeff." The way his eyes are bruised up he can't quite make out the face Jeff makes at that, but Steve's pretty sure the guys mouth was open. 
"She's a nasty one, my minion, best stay on your toes around her." Eddie calls, and Steve waves a hand in the air to show he heard. 
"What just happened?" Jeff asks, far too loudly for how close Steve still is. 
It makes him chuckle a bit, even as one of the other guys says something in a far quieter voice that has Munson squawking and flapping his arms like a bird. 
The winding little feelings in his chest squeeze his heart, and Steve shakes his head, refusing to be fond of Eddie Munson. 
xXx
College rejection letters come in, one after the another.
Steve could have made it into a few schools he's certain, except he hadn't really applied to any.
Not that any college other than Penn Hurst mattered. His dad wanted him to be a legacy, come hell or high water.
Steve's punishment was hand picked by his parents, and he gets the sailor outfit his new minimum wage job requires is supposed to be a part of it--that his dad made him apply because it was the most embarrassing thing he could think to subject Steve too-- but honestly? 
It's not that bad. 
Not even with Robin, the manager he met yesterday, and who positively, completely and totally, hates Steve’s guts.  
He figures he has time to win her over. 
All the time in the world, now that demons aren't trying to eat his, or any of the kid's, faces. He can focus on the small things. Build himself back up.
Figure out the person he wants to be, now that he's no longer King Steve. 
It’s the thought that kept him from attending any graduation parties. To go felt like backsliding into old habits. 
‘If the kids--if it comes back again--’ 
Getting drunk at night in a random house seemed almost irresponsible.
Particularly not with people Steve has history with, without anyone he really cares about being present. Certainly not Nance and Jonathan, who he wishes he didn’t know are at some end-of-year game night one of Nancy’s friends is hosting. 
(Steve can’t think about that for a number of reasons. 
When he does--because of course he does-- he makes sure to focus on the weirdness that is Jonathan Byers being someone he cares about, instead of the fact he can’t seem to kill his love for Nancy. 
Or that he's horrifically jealous of their relationship. 
That the best sleep he had ever had was between them, two nights after the lab, when they crammed themselves into Jonathan's bed because they all couldn't quite believe it was over.
That night had been so incredibly weird, but grouping together felt safer. Smarter.
Better.
Not in a way Steve wants to put into words. 
Not in a way he wants to confront at all.) 
His parents hadn’t been able to make it home to watch him walk at his graduation--his father landing a last minute meeting with some important person or other. 
Faked apologies were given, money transferred, and Steve, not wanting to sit in his too-huge house, had meandered to Family Video. 
Tried to forget his father’s cold voice in the background of his mother’s call, loudly announcing he’d have made it a priority to see Steve graduate-- if he’d gotten into Penn Hurst. 
Steve just shakes his head. Pushes those thoughts into the back of his head, into the same place all his other weird thoughts live.
The glare he gets from the tall, pimple-ridden guy working the rental counter was expected.
Chrissy Cunningham, was not. 
"I thought you’d be at one of the parties.” He tells her, when he turns down the romance aisle and finds her staring blankly at a shelf. 
She startles, before recognition flits over her face and a warm smile is directed his way. 
“I'm honestly not a fan of parties." She confides in him, hand clutching a tape in her hands."Not those kinds, anyway.” 
"More slumber parties, less keg stands your speed?" Steve guessed, blatantly turning his head sideways in order to read the title.
She awards him with a wider smile. "Exactly." 
"Chrissy Cunningham. Are you renting Jaws?" He teases, leaning in just a touch.
She flushes, but turns and squares up to him. Steve's delighted to see it. 
"Why yes I am. I'll do you one better and even admit it's one of my favorite movies." 
Steve grins at her, and sees the way she lights up on response, eyes bright. 
This is the Chrissy that Carver had tried to kill. The strength and pure fun that radiates off her enhances the beauty she has to something almost otherworldly. 
Steve has seen enough beauty in his life to recognize when it will stay. That Chrissy wil one day be 80 years old, with gray hair and knit sweaters, and she'll still be able to light up a room. 
"Like sharks killing people that much huh?” He teases. And it’s easy, slipping into this part of himself around her. The part he’s been trying to get back. 
The confidence that he walked with, before monsters crawled out of the ground, and Nancy put a hole in his heart.
"I'll let you in on a secret. ." Chrissy leans in, dropping her voice low enough that Steve has to lean in a bit too to hear. "My favorite character is the shark." 
Steve playfully gapes at her, and for the first  time in a long time, feels like things will be okay. 
He’ll be okay.
He won’t be King Steve. He’s not Nancy's Boyfriend Steve either--but someone else. Himself.
A Steve who exists outside of Hawkins High, outside his family name. 
He likes it.
"I told you that was his car. Steve!" A too familiar voice calls and Steve can't mask the despair that hits him as he turns to his (now least) favorite shithead, whose storming through Family Video’s doors. 
"Dustin." He identifies, with an edge to his voice he can only pray Chrissy doesn't pick up on. "Other brats. What are you doing?" 
Mike stands stubbornly at Dustin's right, Lucas nervous at his left. 
Will Byers is situated next to Mike but Steve's not as familiar with him, and has no idea how to interpret the kid. 
If he had to guess based on the face he’s being sent, Will’s more nervous then the rest--but equally determined. 
(This does not make Steve feel better. It in fact, somewhat convinces them they’ve run headfirst back into trouble.) 
"Well we were going to go to Lucas’s, but now, we're bumming a ride from you!" 
"I'm busy." He says flatly. 
"Ste~eeeve!" 
"I didn't know you had a brother." Chrissy says, hand covering her mouth. 
Looking back at her, Steve's pretty sure she's trying to physically hold back laughter. 
If one could shoot lasers with their eyes, Steve would be nailing Dustin for ruining--whatever it was that was happening here. 
"He's a rescue" Steve says flatly. "It’s not working out though. We're planning on returning him to the shelter.” 
"Wow Steve." Dustin returns, offended. "First of all, if anyone's rescuing anyone I rescued you, or did you suddenly forget that you show up to family dinner every Thursday at my house like a sad orpha--mmpphh!" 
‘Mmpphh’ because Steve had taken several long strides across the store to smack his hand over Dustin's mouth. 
"Sorry Chrissy, it would appear the asshole children I am paid to babysit escaped whoever is supposed to be watching them." He shakes Dustins head, in lue of strangling him. “Hit me up later we’ll discuss the shark’s best kills.” 
“Will do.” Chrissy says, as Steve begins the process of shoving his four smaller friends out the door. “Drive safe!” 
“No you don’t, and you’re gonna prove it by swinging through McDonalds for us.” Dustin sing-songs, swinging himself into the passenger side of the Beemer. 
“You assholes owe me, big time.” Steve hisses, as Lucas and Mike instantly begin making kissy faces the second they’re out into the parking lot. "I had plans tonight!"
“Do you have McDonalds money?” Steve asks, only to immediately wince at himself because fuck did he just sound like a soccer mom. 
“I have money I took out of my mom’s wallet.” Mike says as he settles into the car with his friends.
“Fine.” Steve sighs in defeat, starting the car. 
He determinedly does not ask if the idiots walked here, because there is a suspicious lack of bicycles, if only because he hit his mom quota for the day and Steve refuses to say anything else that might edge out his cool persona.
The one he swears he still has.
Supposedly. 
("Does my mom really pay you to watch me?" Dustin asks a while later, when the other brats are distracted. His voice is painfully honest, and softer than it normally is. 
"In food, yes." Steve says, because he’s not that much of an asshole--and maybe, because Dustin is truly his only friend right now.
Steve honestly looks forward to those Thursday dinners, helping Ma Henderson and having her fuss over him in a way his parents never had. 
In a way no one ever had. 
Dustin lands a solid kick to his ankle, making Steve curse. "That's not payment you ass!"
"Ow, God Dustin--" 
"Just admit you're my actual friend, you dick!" 
"Language! I swear your mom stole you from wolves, you animal--" Steve swatted at him. 
Maybe, possibly later, he will go on to admit that yes, Dustin is his friend. 
He will even agree to making up a stupid handshake for it. 
It involves lightsabers and gore at least, which Steve insists is very cool.)
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triptuckers · 9 months
Text
on the bottom of the lake - percy jackson
Request: yes! "I love ur writing!! could you write something w Percy helping anxious reader?? I’ve been super stressed lately and idk this show is keeping me sane lmao" Pairing:  Percy Jackson x reader Summary:  you've been stressed and percy knows the perfect way to help you relax Warnings:  reader being stressed, some swearing, anxiety Word count:  917 A/N: I drew so many pjo characters yesterday I cant wait to share them when I'm done with them :) thanks for your request, enjoy!
you don't know if you've ever felt like this. sure, you'd been stressed before. but now you're losing sleep over it. and not a few hours, just nights without zero sleep at all.
you've got a big project you need to do for school over the summer. if you call, it'll be your last strike and you'd be expelled. like it was your fault you had trouble reading and concentrating.
when you arrived at camp half-blood at the start of summer, you thought some of your worries would go away.
the opposite happened.
you saw everyone around you having a good time. they didn't have to worry about some project. they slept peacefully from night til morning.
even if you can't work on your project, you're constantly thinking about it. your mind never rests.
percy noticed you've been stressed and tries to talk to you about it, but you always shut him down. it's enough to think about it all the time, let alone talk about it.
after a couple of days, percy tries again. he really wants to help you, but he don't know why.
'hey, y/n?' says percy.
'what's up?' you say, looking up at him. you're supposed to help your cabin prepare for tonight's bonfire, but so far you're not helping much.
'about your project-'
'gods, will you leave it alone, percy!' you burst out. 'I think about that fucking project all day don't you start about it as well!'
percy takes a step back and you realise it's because of you.
'I'm sorry! sorry!' you say, getting up and grabbing one of his hands. 'I'm so sorry I didn't mean it.'
you feel tears slowly starting to fall.
'hey, it's okay.' says percy softly. he reaches up and brushes a tear from your cheek. 'want to go to the lake for a while?'
you nod. percy leads you to the lake. you close your eyes and let the breeze calm you down. but still the project is on your mind. if you go to your cabin now, you could get some work done.
percy tugs on your hand and you open your eyes to look at him.
'get in.' he says, nodding his head toward the lake.
'now?'
percy nods.
'percy, I don't want to go swimming right now.'
'do you trust me?'
'of course.'
'then get in.'
you sigh. what did you have to lose? maybe a swim would be nice.
'let me get my bathing suit.' you say.
'nope.' says percy, pulling you by your hand as he jumps in the lake. before you can stop him, you're pulled forward by his momentum. seconds later, the water surrounds you.
you want to yell at him for getting your clothes soaked, but you remember you're under water. once you get your bearings, you open your eyes, letting them get accustomed to the water.
you try to swim to the surface, but percy still holds on to your hand and pulls you further down, all the way to the bottom of the lake.
good for him, he's a poseidon kid. you aren't. you can't breathe underwater. surely percy knows that right?
he lets go of you hands and swims to the bottom of the lake.
you're going to have to go up for air soon.
you can see percy sitting down on the ocean floor, gesturing at you to join him. you squint your eyes. it looks like the water is less murky down there.
you let yourself sink down to percy's level. the water is less murky here because there is no water here.
'I didn't know you could do this.' you say, looking around the air bubble you're in.
'pretty cool, right?' says percy, smiling proudly.
'why are we here?'
'I mostly come here when I need to be alone. if you sit here in silence for a while, the fish will come up to you. and I always thought the waves are soothing to look at from down here.'
you look up and watch the waves for a while. sunlight pours through the water, giving it a soft glow.
you move closer to percy and rest your head on his shoulder.
the two of you sit there for a while. and percy was right. after some time, fish start to swim around your bubble.
percy tells you about the lake and the animals and after a while even two water nymphs come to say hello. percy knows them and introduces you to them.
you sit there for so long you lose track of time. it's getting late, so you decide to swim up to the surface.
normally you would have been soaked, but thanks to percy you're warm and dry.
you stifle a yawn as percy takes your hand in his and starts walking towards the cabins.
'thank you, that was nice.' you say.
'one of the bonuses of dating a poseidon kid.' says percy, lightly squeezing your hand.
he notices you hadn't talked about your project at all when you were in the lake. and you look genuinely tired. he hopes you can get at least one good nights sleep tonight.
'want to stay at my cabin tonight?' he says.
you smile and nod. 'yeah I'd like that.'
the two of you head to percy's cabin to get some sleep. and percy had been right, you got a good night of uninterrupted sleep. you dreamt of nothing but the comfort of the lake, and percy's presence next to you.
A/N:If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit
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