#or you became one of those arrogant kids

[highvern]

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

“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.

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.

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

[blueboybot]

A Lantern's Light

This time it isn't Batman, Superman or even Wonder Woman that has a secret child. Rather, it is none other than our resident Green Lantern, Hal Jordan.

Memory holds knowledge and within that knowledge holds power.

Maybe Star Sapphire and Green Lantern did manage to live a happy life before everything went to ruins.

When Danny unexpectedly gets saved by Hal they both stop, just looking at each other...

_____________

Danny should've been faster. He saw the fight, he knew how close they were and yet he didn't think to use one of his many ghost powers to get far away. Now he was about to be crushed by a giant piece of apartment building. It won't kill him but it was sure going to be a mess on the streets and that will bring more attention to him than he wants.

Before the giant piece of stone could do its job a green light encased it, not exactly like the ecto-green he saw with other ghost, and stopped it from making him the human pancake he was destined to be, green slightly poisonous syrup included. When the stone was put aside Danny was able to see the hero Green Lantern.

Now Danny has only ever seen the man on tv or far away while the other fights and even then he didn't pay him much interest. But now that he was here, now that he was so close to him Danny felt something. His core, his soul...it knew this man, it new Green Lantern.

"Hey kid you need to go this place isn't safe...for...you..."

__________

Hal is a lot of things.

A test pilot who worked for Ferris Aircraft.

A member of the Green Lantern Corps working with other Green lanterns and venturing out into parts of space that he thought was never possible for him.

A member of the Justice League where he fights alongside other heroes, taking down any evil that threatens the earth and making sure it is a safer place for its inhabitants.

But.

There was a time when he was blessed with a miracle and became a father to the cutest baby in the world. His baby boy that he took almost everywhere with him, playing with him and watching as those blue eyes lit up with enough joy to power a house.

Hal doesn't like to think about those memories now, they always came accompanied with the sound of thunder, rain, screaming and crying. He lost everything that day and he was sure he'd never see those eyes again.

So why...why were they looking back at him?

__________

Danny did not know what was happening to him right now and he was a bit scared. Him and Green Lantern have just been there staring at each other, not saying anything, just staring.

Green Lantern touched the down on the ground and very slowly started walking towards him. Danny couldn't find it in himself to move, he was paralysed and it wasn't completely with fear.

When he was close enough enough Green Lantern looked down at him, not in the arrogant way, as if he didn't realize how short Danny would be. Danny was in a bit of awe of how much bigger and more muscled the man looked up close, the way his masked eyes looked as if they almost glowed. Despite all of this Danny didn't feel any of the fear one should when a man this big corners you, rather, he felt safe.

Green Lantern reached out his hand to hold the side of Danny's face softly and he melted into the touch. This feeling of safe and comfort was almost too much, he hadn't this way in a long time, not since he had to run and leave everyone and everything he loved behind. He didn't even realize he was crying.

A loud boom shook the ground they were standing on and Green lantern turned around, it was all that was need to break whatever weird spell was on Danny. Using his invisiblity to stay out of sight he took off, using flight to fly far away from Green Lantern.

[frantic-fiction]

Tension 18+

Pic: littlelovelore

Astarion x f!reader

Summary: During a solo mission, Astarion takes the opportunity to indulge in some "depraved carnal lust".

Warnings: 18+ MDNI Slight enemies to lovers, sex bent over a desk, sex with clothes on, mild choking, rough sex, reader handles her crush like a fifth grader (by being mean) Astarion is his smug self

Word Count: 3.2k

Masterlist

Back-to-back posts brought to you by Bree's insomnia...Enjoy!

"Do you want me to do it?" Astarion smugly asks, flicking his wrist sharply, sending a dagger into the wood beam before him. He's leaning against the cracked wall of the tunnel. A condescending smile stretches across his pale lips.

"Shut the fuck up!" You snap, twisting the lockpick violently, it's stuck on something, and it is pissing you off. 

"My my, someone's testy today." The Vampire pushes off the wall to retrieve his dagger, only for you to hear the same thud of the knife hitting the abused beam once again.

You clench your jaw, wanting nothing more than to drown the bastard in the small stream of gray water. See him try to be a smartass when he's choking on sewage. 

No! Just breathe.

As soon as you get this damn door open, all you need is to grab the stolen lease for the damn butcher, and the party will have a nice payout. Then Astarion's snarky comments and teasing jabs can be ignored behind a glass of ale and a nice meal. 

Well, if you don't kill him first.

The relationship between you and the Vampire is a complex one, to say the least. Astarion is an arrogant, pompous dick. You're a temperamental stubborn asshole. It made for a messy mix of harsh insults and constant attempts to belittle the other.

It would have been so easy to hate him completely, but Astarion can be sweet under the cloak of night, and you could almost pretend he's a tolerable person when he speaks those honey-coated words. And when you let him feed from you, everything became so much more complicated.

The pick snaps, and you drop your head, groaning in frustration. You stand up and kick hard against a crate; the decayed wood breaks against your boot. Sighing in defeat, you motion to the rogue. 

Astarion laughs smoothly, tucking the knife away, and exchanges it for his thieves' tools. Giving you a wink, he bends down to examine the lock. You pretend not to admire the swell of his ass, but who are you kidding Astarion is extremely attractive.

With little to no fanfare, the lock turns over, and Astarion opens the door. "After you."

"I fucking hate you." You grumble, pushing past, making a point to shove your shoulder hard into the rouge.

"Keep telling yourself that Darling," 

You flip him off.

The sewer system is a winding path of tunnels leading to various places. The two of you walk in silence for a few minutes. 

"Are you sure we are going the right way?" Astarion asks, breaking the peace.

"Of course, this is the right way." You hiss, glaring over your shoulder. "I can read a map."

"Just like you could pick a lock, yes?"

You don't think you've ever seen a more punchable face. You're almost tempted to smack him just to see his reaction. Instead, you practice a semblance of self-control and ignore him.

After a few more turns, you hit a dead end. It's nothing but a damp brick wall. Scanning the map, you're sure you followed all the proper steps; there should be an entrance. Stowing the stupid paper away, you begin feeling the brick for any invisible button, unwilling to admit defeat in front of Astarion. All hideouts have secret levers. Right?

"Well, sweetheart, I think you've gotten us lost."

"No, I didn't, jackass, now be useful for once and help me." You bend down and begin trailing your fingertips against the rough bricks near the floor.

"I don't think I will. I'm quite enjoying the view from here."

You look back towards the rogue, "What are you talking about–" you choke on your words.

 Astarion is shamelessly eyeing your form. A fang tugs at his bottom lip, hunger darkening his eyes. You swallow hard, and a flame ignites low in your stomach. You have a sudden urge to press him against the wall. That thought startles you. This is Astarion. The obnoxious, arrogant, attractive–no, stop that. You stand up and shake your head, willing your thoughts to clear. 

"You're ridiculous," you sigh and dig through your bag. 

Retrieving the knock scroll, Gale scribed for you. Repeating the steps he told you to do, you mumbled the incantation, and soon enough, what was once a solid brick wall cracked open to reveal a hidden path.

"Told you I knew where I was going," you boast, sticking your tongue out childishly.

Astarion smirks, "Yes, a broken clock is right twice a day."

Scoffing, you shove him hard, causing him to take a few steps to correct his footing. The entrance leads to a broken-down ladder and a worn wooden hatch. Astarion steps up to pick the lock and lifts the hatch barely to survey the room. He pushes the trapdoor open and enters.

Following suit, you find yourself in a dusty broom closet. Astarion is already at the door to the hallway, a sliver of light pouring through the crack. Closing the trapdoor, you cross your arms and wait for Astarion to turn back to you. 

"It's abandoned."

"Are you sure?"

Scoffing, Astarion doesn't answer. He pushes the door open and begins down the hall. You follow after him.

The small hideout is plainly decorated, the common room has a dingy sofa and a coffee table. The fireplace is dead; not even embers remain. Good. In the corner, there looks to be an unfinished game of cards. The faded carpet runner leads down the hall to a large ornate door. 

Astarion is already opening the door by the time you reach him. By the looks of it, this is the boss's office. A large oak desk sat in the middle room. A plush chair pulled slightly away as if someone hadn't bothered to move it back. Bookshelves line the back wall. 

"Secure the door," you say as you move to the window to the left of the door. You hear Astarion mumble something but don't quite catch his words. 

The window is a short drop good for a quick escape if needed. 

You move to the desk and begin rifling through the papers on the desk. Tax documents, random notes, crappy doodles, and a cringey love letter, but not what you're looking for. You rip open the first drawer. Nothing. Second drawer. Nothing. Third, nothing. 

"Astarion, did you find anything?"

"Nothing important." His sultry voice is deep and so very close to your ear.  

Your heart drops, but you suppress any other signs of distress, knowing that is exactly what he's looking for. Sighing In annoyance, you turn around to face Astarion and cross your arms over your chest.

"Are you even trying to look for the damn paper? We need to get what we're here for and get the fuck out!"

Astarion's mouth cracks into a cheeky grin, and he closes in on you. You back against the desk instinctually, reaching a hand up that lands on his firm chest. Astarion has you caged against the desk, each hand on either side of your hips. You know Astarion can hear the thrumming of your heart and the shaky inhalation of your breath, and you curse your body for betraying you.

He bends his head down to press his mouth against your ear. "What if I'm looking for something else?"

You freeze. What did he mea–

The thought is forgotten because he's slamming his lips onto yours. You gasp in surprise, and Astarion wastes no time, delving his tongue into your mouth and claiming it as his. 

The slight metallic taste of blood that lingers on his tongue should repulse you but has you moaning desperately for more. You grip your fist tightly into the fabric of Astarion's armor. His body is flush against yours, but you need more. You scratch your nails up his neck and tangle your fingers into his hair. Astarion groans into your mouth, biting at your bottom lip.

Everything is hazy, and you're lost in the kiss. Your thoughts are slow to catch up with the situation, too consumed by the taste of his lips. Astarion's lips. Astarion.

You push him away, chest heaving in rapid breaths. "What are you doing?" 

"I'd hope my intentions would be obvious by now." He grins and dives back to kiss down your neck, dragging his teeth against your skin. "I could be more obvious if that would clear things up." 

A sharp bite of his mouth at your throat drags a choked gargle from your swollen lips. You feel dizzy from the scent of rosemary and bergamot invading your nose. Lightheaded from the sudden turn of events. Astarion presses a knee between your legs, applying firm pressure against your burning arousal. 

Gods, what was he doing to you?

Needing to gain any form of control, you tug sharply at the roots of his silver curls, drawing a hiss from the man. 

You finally manage to gasp out, "We hate each other." As if that would somehow clear up your raging thoughts.

Except, could you hate someone who is making you feel so good? 

Cold fingers trail against the skin between your leather armor and trousers. Astarion's deft hands start pulling at the lace of your pants. Another wave of arousal warms your body, and you feel drunk on the pale elf.

"You say that, yet I don't think you want me to stop." He purrs, halting his movements, and meets your eyes. "Do you want me to stop?"

You shake your head, desperate for more. Your dignity couldn't live with letting Astarion reduce you to a begging mess. However, if you were honest with yourself, you're already halfway there. Reaching out, you grab for his belt.

Astarion was having none of that. He's quick to twirl you around and press your torso flush against the top of the desk. A stack of paper flies off and scatters to the ground, but neither of you put much care into it. Astarion grinds his front roughly against your ass, and you moan at the feeling of his hardening cock against you.

"No, no, no, my dear, use your words."

"Gods, are you always so fucking annoying?" You whine pressing back and rolling your ass against him. Astarion grunts, gripping your hips tightly. "Are you going to fuck me, or should I just take care of myself?"

Astarion groans, rocking against each roll of your hips. "There's my spitfire." 

"I'm not yours."

Astarion tugs at your pants and underwear, pulling them over your rear and letting them pool around your ankles. You kick off your boots and free yourself, leaving your lower half bare to the open air. A shiver rushes up your spine as the cold air hits your dripping heat. 

Astarion's slim fingers trail down your folds, and you bite your lips to stifle a cry. Tilting your head back, you see the rogue admiring the slick coating his fingers. 

"You might not be mine, darling." Astarion slips his drenched fingers into his mouth, and you watch, mouth agape, as he swirls his tongue to clean each digit. "But who else has seen you bent over a desk looking as desperate and delicious as you do now?"

"I could name a few," you say cheekily, earning you a smack on the flesh of your backside. 

Astarion gropes the reddened skin and bends down, blanketing you with his body. You feel the soft pants of his breath cascade over your neck as Astarion brings his lips to your ear.

"Then it seems I'm just going to have to ruin you for anyone else." Astarion practically growls and licks along the shell of your ear before taking the lobe in between his mouth and teasing it with his teeth. You don't recall hearing Astarion unclasp his belt, but when you feel his bare cock rub against your back, all you can do is arch your back and moan.

"Astarion," you part your legs more in silent invitation.

"Yes, my dear," His voice is smug as he rocks against you. He knows what you want but wants to hear you say it. 

The head of his cock parts your folds and moves to tease your desperate clit; a collective moan fills the room, but it is not enough for either of you. And knowing that the two of you are currently in the middle of dangerous territory means there is no time to play. 

"Stop being a prick and fuck me."

"Have I ever told you, you always have such a way with words." Astarion chuckles before plunging deep into your cunt.

A shaky cry leaves your lips, all air seemingly ripped from your lungs. Astarion is bigger than most men you've slept with prior - though you wouldn't dare voice that out loud in case it inflates his already-inflated ego. The stretch holds a delicious sting, and you feel the beginning of the burn of tears at the corner of your eyes. 

Astarion's still his hips for a moment, letting you collect yourself. His thumbs are rubbing soothing circles into the small of your back and peppering kisses across your neck. Once the sting of his initial entrance simmers to a stirring heat, you tell him to move.

"Hells you're so tight." Astarion groans as he sets a teasing pace, dragging the rugged ridges of his cock out before plunging back in at the same agonizing pace. 

A pace you could imagine sharing intimately with Astarion all night somewhere secluded. Perhaps your tent or an isolated clearing, not a random gang's currently empty hideout. And since you're not one to play nice, you decide to play with fire instead.

Pushing up on your elbows, you move your head to look back at Astarion, a playful smirk on your lips. "You say you're going to ruin me, but I think Gale could be doing a better job of it right now."

Astarion's body freezes just as you hoped he would react. He shoots you a look full of daggers and bares his teeth in annoyance. Without comprehending entirely what's happening, Astarion pulls out of you and, with a strength you have not seen from the Vampire (the same Vampire who asks others on multiple occasions to carry his pack because it's too heavy), flips you over and has you seated firmly back on the desk leaving you dizzy but feeling giddy as a schoolgirl. 

"Oh darling, you're going to regret that."

Astarion rams back into your pussy and begins to thrust quick and brutally deep into your body. His cold hand is wrapped around your throat, holding it firmly enough to keep your eyes locked onto him. 

Your legs link around his lean hips, pulling him deeper into you. Moaning desperately, you run one of your hands up under his leather armor, splaying it across his stomach. You grab his face and pull him into a kiss, all tongue and teeth and perfection.

 The desk is groaning under the movement of your bodies. Random knick-knacks are clanging to the floor. A bottle of whiskey shatters, and the pungent aroma wafts into the air, mingling with the scent of sweat and slick. 

"You and that mouth of yours." He breathes deep into your ear. "Always so confident, so snarky, so bratty." 

"M-more…" you choke, clenching around his length, desperate for anything and everything he will give you.

"Do you think the wizard could handle you?" The hand not firmly holding your neck snakes between your legs and begins to play with your clit.

"Gods A-star.." You gasp, eyes rolling back.

"Could he or anyone else make you feel this good?" Astarion's hand tightens slightly against your neck, and the lack of oxygen leaves you feeling dizzy and euphoric. 

"N-no…please." 

"After me, no one will ever be able to satisfy you." His thumb is now rubbing fast, tight circles against your clit. "Fuck, that's it, squeeze me just like that."

Gripping onto the desk, you shift your hips, and Astarion is now hitting deeper into your abused cunt. You tighten your legs around his waist, urging him to go faster. That delicious coil is beginning to burn deep in your stomach, and you know you won't last much longer. 

"Tell me, who's making you feel this good," Astarion demands, voice husky. 

"Y-you," 

"And when you come on my cock, I want you to scream my name." He grunts, and the thrust of his hips is beginning to become sloppier. "I want to hear just how good I make you feel."

Everything is too much. Astarion's sinful words, the harsh thrust of his hips combined with the tight circles of his thumb on your clit, the musky smell of Astarion's sweat mingling with yours, and the intense fragrance of the spilled whiskey. 

You don't remember the details, just the wave of euphoria as the coil snaps and your orgasm washes over you. The words that spill from your lips hold no meaning in your clouded mind. The only thing that holds context is the feeling of Astarion stuttering thrusts of his hips as he chases his release from your spent body. 

And when he stills, and the world falls silent apart for your combined pants of breath, all you do is brush the curls off his forehead and kiss his cheek. Why? You're not sure, but that's something you'll ask yourself later. 

Once you return to relatively normal breathing, Astarion moves from his slumped position against your body. He stares at you in astonishment.

"Well, that happened." You offer because what else were you supposed to say?

Astarion breaks out into a genuine laugh, full belly and joyful as he tucks himself away. You couldn't help but join in as you move to put your clothes on.

"Yes, my sweet, I suppose that did happen."

"So where-"

The two of you jump at a commotion coming from the hall. Someone is jingling the doorknob, trying to open it; when it doesn't budge, there is a loud bang followed by an even louder shout of anger.

"Fuck!" You quickly finish tying your boots and collect your gear.

"Seems like our friends are back from their trip. I believe it's time to go." Astarion says as he moves to the window and opens it. Without waiting for you to respond, he gives you a devilish smirk and jumps out.

"Shit, the paper." You sigh, knowing you'll never hear the end of it. 

By the time you make it to the window, the door is being busted in, and a very angry-looking dwarf is storming into the room. You smile at him and give him a salute before diving out the window, knowing Astarion will be there to catch you.

***Later at camp***

"What do you mean you didn't get the document?" Gale yells, the others equally baffled by you and Astarion's failure. "That was the only thing you needed to get!"

You shrink in on yourself looking to Astarion for help. "I...I don"

Astarion rolls his eyes. "Stealing objects from heavily populated hideouts is harder than you might think, wizard." 

"That's why we sent you two!"

"Then perhaps next time-"

"HOLY SHIT!" Karlach interrupts, drawing everyone's attention. She's pointing straight at you with a look of bafflement. "Soldier's got a fucking hickey."

You clamp a hand over the spot Astarion was biting at earlier, wishing for the ground to swallow you whole.

Shadowheart's face scrunches up in disgust. "Please don't tell me, we're not getting paid because you two idiots decided to fuck?"

"Darling, it would seem the cat's out of the bag." The bastard has the audacity to look proud.

"I hate you all." You groan and storm off to your tent, contemplating just how bad it would be to join the Absolute.

Feedback always makes my day so let me know what you guys thought. And if you're looking for something sweet to balance out the spice check out my last post right here.

Taglist: @heartfully10@ayselluna@marina-and-the-memes@anixson@canonicalchaoticneutral @toadsbitch @meulinkitten-blog @ambr4armr @lotusandcrystals @venussakura @synapticjive @skittleabyss @asterordinary @lariatbunny @whispering-depths @butchboi-chihuahua-slumlord @darkest-part-of-the-forest @queenofcarrotflowers-s @sessils @d20bunny @cherifrog @ophelia-ophelian @bgthree @darlingxdragon @mothynyx @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf @babyqnn @mmendez0124 @kokoyu-art

Want to be added to the taglist? DM me please!

[ckret2]

This is an earnest question - it came up in one of my fics and I'm curious how other people interpreted it.

I know that the Westmore-Backupsmore dichotomy is supposed to be a joke. It's a kids show, the depth of Ford's disappointment and failure has to be made obvious in the span of a few seconds, and hyperbole is funny.

However, it has always pushed my suspension of disbelief that Ford was being evaluated for a place that was supposed to be in-universe Stanford University or something, and when he didn't immediately get a full-ride scholarship to one of the best universities in the country, his alternative was a place with such a poor reputation that it was literally marketed as a backup plan.

I've seen several explanations for this. I've seen it suggested that he was just too arrogant to apply for a wide variety of schools, and by the time he realized he couldn't do Westmore he was scrambling for the only place with a long application window. I've seen it suggested that Backupsmore was actually a pretty good school, and that its poor reputation was unearned and due to classism because it made an effort to cater to lower-income students. The one I personally went for is that his family was skeptical about his academic aspirations, and as a result Filbrick would only pay the application fees for a small handful of schools.

Do you have an explanation?

When the principal calls the family in to tell them that Ford's a genius and has a shot at getting into West Coast Tech, they're all surprised and thrilled—including Ford. This isn't a case of "I just won't bother applying anywhere but WCT." All evidence suggests he didn't apply to WCT at all... since it seems like he'd never even imagined going until then. It sounds like, until then, Ford's post graduation plans really were sailing around the world with Stan.

I think it's the complete opposite of arrogance: I think he didn't apply anywhere because he assumed college just wasn't in the cards for him.

His family's poor. His family's also Jewish, which probably wouldn't actually impact anything in Friendly Disney Channel Show For Children but in real life it would be a reason for a lot of colleges to quietly turn down his application in the 60s. His family probably also knew that Ford was smart, but unless someone else told them, none of them—Ford included—had enough of a basis of comparison for just HOW smart he was.

They probably thought, sure, Ford's a bright kid, but, HOW bright? Yeah, brightest in the school, but that could be a "big fish in a little pond" deal, this doesn't look like the preppiest high school. Bright enough to be accepted into the fanciest schools in the country? They're not sure—until he's told he has a shot at West Coast Tech. Bright enough for his education to be worth the strain on the family that paying for a college education would be? DEFINITELY not... until that education became worth potential millions.

Bright enough for him to apply to the in-universe equivalents of Harvard and Yale and Columbia and Brown etc? Why bother? West Coast Tech was only interested in him when he had an amazing science project, and lost interest when he didn't. His stellar grades clearly didn't matter to them without that science project. No point in applying to the other equivalent schools now.

Or, hell, maybe he did apply—and, without a big flashy in-your-face wow-worthy science project, all they saw was a poor kid who got good grades from a mediocre school. Unless a poor kid is something really special, a 1960s Ivy League college would rather accept middle-or-upper-class kids with equally good grades—those kids will actually pay their tuition fees.

Or maybe they even did accept him! ... But, didn't consider him quite impressive enough for scholarships, and were too expensive without them.

Sure, we know Ford was a super genius—but a college would need some kind of proof he was a super genius rather than just Really Smart, and he didn't have that proof.

He didn't even consider going to college until probably late in the school year (assuming their science fair was probably in the spring). Within a couple of days he suddenly had WCT offered ("you're worthy of the greatest schools in the country!") and snatched away ("nvm you're not worthy"). Now suddenly, possibly for the first time in his life, college is on the table, and he's been told that he could be REALLY successful if he goes to college... but, the big fancy colleges won't take him. What does he do now?

Backupsmore might have been the best school that 1) he thought would take him (or actually WOULD take him), 2) he could still apply to, and 3) his family thought they could afford.

[malereadermaniac]

Ego ~ Blue Oak x GN Reader

Blue's tired of losing to Red, so when he sees you blush and play with your fingers around the stoic man, Blue acts for the sake of his Ego No pronouns are used - any reader welcome! word count: 1.2k

Blue, you, and Red had been friends and rivals since you were young kids - you had watched the two of them conquer the pokemon league and the three of you were constantly having battles and eventually hanging out after Blue became less salty about his loses

However, becoming less bitter does't mean in any way shape or form that Blue's ego is any less big, or that he doesn't still see himself as the best of the best; despite his losses!

The main reason to him putting his ego aside and making friends with Red was also less about him moving on and more about trying to win you over...

Blue had developed a crush on you pretty quickly, after starting off your journey amongst the two boys with a cute little Eevee, you and the arrogant man decided to stick together - Blue claiming that you'd die out in wild Kanto with pokemon weaker than his

Initially, Blue just wanted a battle partner and someone to show off to - and he wasn't going to ask Red after losing to him after receiving his starter...

But after hearing your cheers for him in the crowd for 3 gyms in a row, Blue had started to notice how his heart skipped a beat whenever he was near you (which was a lot.)

But the young man kept it to himself all the way into adulthood, swallowing his pride by tolerating Red in order to continue being near you

And Blue had started to really try now! With his intense league journey behind him, the man had fully realised his massive crush on you, and he wasn't going to lose this time, mark his words!

So on the daily, Blue would go out of his way to try and flirt with you - the man constantly near you, showing off his strength by doing things for you, challenging you to battles just to hear your compliments to his skill, and once the man built up enough courage gifts had become a common courtesy!

The tall trainer had made many efforts to ensure you two could hangout one-on-one at least once a week - those days being his favourite, prime time to show off and to enjoy your presence

Your group trip to Alola was where the heat started to get cranked up though - revealing clothing, the hot sun making all of you sweat and slightly delirious, constant adrenaline from battling new trainers, and a whole lotta alcohol in your systems

The subtle flirting between you and Blue had continued throughout the trip via playful banter and gifting souvenirs, and the fact that the slim yet muscular man was wearing his shirt fully open all the time was definitely winning him some bonus points! Blue would catch you staring every so often, stroking the attractive man's ego so nicely~

But a wrench was thrown into Blue's delicate work when he noticed your subtle staring was starting to redirect from him... onto the worst possible person; Red

He'd notice you try to include the quiet man into your conversations, trying to get him to speak or laugh; an obvious blush on your face when the champion spoke a few words with his deep voice

It really fucking pissed Blue off.

The way you'd play with the hem of your shirt or your fingers when talking to Red, a light blush on your face and airy chuckles escaping past your lips - Blue adored it when you'd do those things for him... But the fact that they were aimed towards his rival? The man who crushed his dreams of being the best in Kanto? Blue could hear the scratch of his teeth gritting together at that

It also didn't help that Red took notice of your actions, clearly wearing his shirt unbuttoned like Blue on purpose!

Blue had, had enough

He'd already lost his championship to Red, almost every battle with him had resulted in a loss on the arrogant man's behalf, his own grandfather had congratulated Red but not Blue; his ego had already been shattered to pieces, he wasn't going let Red take you too

So, as you and Red were enjoying the warm Alolan beach, Blue had made his way to you both - his face concealing his frustration pretty effectively, but Blue had never been one to wear his true emotions on his sleeve

You wave the handsome man a 'hi' but had been interrupted when asking him if he was alright; Blue's rough hand wrapping perfectly around your wrist and pulling you away from Red

You barely even had time to protest against Blue's actions before you had been pulled into a changing cabin on the beach, Red still standing on the beach in shock

With your back up a against a wall, Blue had tapped you beneath him - his muscular arms trapping you between the wall and the trainer's muscular, sweaty, warm body - one of his arms above your head and the other grasping your shoulder

"Do you like him?!" Blue demands, his face now clearly upset, his grip on your shoulder decently tight yet his hand was clearly trembling

"Huh? What're you on about, Blue?" you question, half of your face squinting in a quizzical manner

"Do you like, Red?" Blue asks, taking in a deep breath, preparing himself for your answer

"I mean he's attractive, sure-" shit... Blue's face had already lost all emotion, those words like a knife stabbing into him

"-but I'd never date him!"

New light had sparked in Blue's eyes, a smile just barely visible on his soft looking lips

"Are you joking? I love him and all but that man gets out like.. 3 words an hour! I need a talker haha~" You chuckle, feeling more at ease when Blue's grip on your shoulder softens and his face sports that classic smirk he always has on around you

"Heh.. Yeah... you need someone to yap with" Blue jokes, his heart rate slowly lowering as he calms down, knowing that he still has you - both emotionally and physically, his body ever so close to yours

"Why though? All the dramatics are usual for you but... were you jealoussss?~~" You tease your handsome friend, a smirk on your lips as you tilt your head in a way that's so fuckin cute to Blue

"F-Fuck off! And what if I was?!" Blue shouts, his arms darting away from trapping you and crossing against his chest - his face flushing in a cute way

"I dunno... Maybe I'd like that" You carry on, pushing a finger against the taller man's muscular chest and dragging it across his warm skin, your eyes looking up into Blue's as you do this

And my god did that make the usually arrogant and cool man malfunction

The two of you spent a good half hour in that changing shack, flirting back and forth, you doing your best to stroke and sooth Blue's fragile ego before having to go back and see Red for the rest of your trip

And for that sole half hour, Blue had felt happier than ever - more happy than when he was briefly crowned as champion

Because in that moment, he didn't have you there; but now he does

[zibiscusloon]

Updated my Cassie design since she has an actual clear model now! Also some headcanons for her have changed, you can read below 👇

-She’s still an Emily! And she’s still Sammy and Samantha’s daughter, however, she and Gregory aren’t siblings anymore, Gregory isn’t a member of the Emily family.

-Gregory and Cassie were friends in school. More so really each other’s only real friend. Cassie was the star student while Gregory was rather ostracized amongst his peers. They found comfort in each other as Cassie was disliked for being seen as arrogant for her intelligence and Gregory for his lack of interest in essentially anything.

-Full name is Cassiopeia Valentina Franz-Emily. She prefers Cassie since no one at school ever seemed to pronounce her name right.

-She has a love for sweets, carrot cake being her favorite.

-Sammy isn’t her biological father. Samantha became pregnant via a donor as she was already set on wanting kids before she and Sammy started dating. She was about a year old when her mother and Sammy’s relationship started. Sammy eventually adopted Cassie! She’s extremely close to her father.

-She’s fluent in English, Spanish, and is studying French.

-Her favorite animatronics are Roxy and Bonnie. She loves Roxy since she was comforted by the wolf during her birthday that her “friends” didn’t bother to show up to (except Gregory), she tended to frequent Roxy Raceway after that. She loves Bonnie as he’s Sammy’s favorite animatronic and gave plenty of hand-me-down Fazbear mech to Cassie featuring Bonnie that she treasures.

-She can come off as rather cold and matter of fact to those who don’t like her, she’s like this however strictly to those who pick on her. She’s actually more insecure than her peers think, and rather sweet to those who show her kindness (ex: Roxy), she’s also rather curious by nature, always eager to learn.

-She painted her nails green to match Roxy!

-She knows very little of her family’s history, as Samantha and Sammy intended to protect her from the trauma’s of their childhood. Sammy and Henry were on no-contact for years, and she knows that Sammy had a sibling he gets upset when he talks about. And she knows her mama had a sister who died young. She does however spend time with her Granny Cynthia (Mrs. Emily) and her Abuela Patricia! (Samantha’s mom)

-William targeted her in hopes to gain a new follower by testing her survival abilities and usage of the V.A.N.N.I mask. To put it bluntly she passed with flying colors. (Will get a (real) job! Stay away from her!!!)

-Roxy rescued her after the elevator crash because I fucking said so.

-After Gregory’s supposed betrayal she sets off to find a way to get both herself and Roxy out, she’s now hurt, angry, and she still swears every time she puts her mask on she can hear some old British guy whispering ideas of revenge to her. Best to ignore that. I’m sure it’s nothing.

[lostrgirl]

In God’s Hands

Aphrodite (God of love)!Huening Kai x Mortal Being!Fem Reader

Side character: Apollo! Soobin, Ares! Taehyun

Summary: As the god of love and beauty, Huening Kai the most beautiful creature that ever exist. He never met someone who are prettier then him. But one day he met a girl that is so beautiful and Kai think she's a threat for him.

He hates her, but later his hatred towards her become obsession.

Trigger Warning: Kai kind of misogynist, M@sturbate.

Other TW will be put on.

This is the story of a girl, named (your name),

And it starts with the forbidden fruit.

Chapter 1

As the god of love and beauty, Huening Kai is the most beautiful creature that ever exist. He never met someone who are prettier then him. And because of that he became arrogant and tend to underestimate other creature even other gods.

Also because of that too, he never fell in love to anyone nor has sexual desire. Because their ugly face (Kai’s opinion) make him lose his desire to have a sex. For the god of love and beauty, sexual activity is a mortal being’s thing to fill their emptiness because they can’t do the things that gods can.

Unlike the other gods who spent their time having fun in mortal realms, peeking through the woods watching the maidens take a bath or changing themselves into animals and rape them. For Kai that’s a disgusting thing to do, and it’s very disgraceful behavior.

If there's one thing that Kai likes and it's definitely better than sex or woman is Peach. He love that fruit, he even make a peach garden at mount olympus. And the peaches from his garden is the most sweet and juicy in the whole world, heaven, and hell. Other gods agreed that the peaches from his garden is the best.

One day his brother, Taehyun decided to play a trick on him. He told Kai that there's peach garden that produce peaches sweeter and bigger than his garden. Because of that Kai got curious and want to proof Taehyun's word, he doesn't like the fact that a peach that are plant by human are more tastier than his peach, than him, a God.

Little did Kai know, he got tricked by his brother. Of course Taehyun lie to him because Kai's peach is the sweetest thing he ever taste and there's no chance a land of human can grow a tree that produce a fruit sweet like a sugar. It's not peaches that Taehyun wants his brother to see but a girl.

Taehyun know how proud is Kai about his beauty and like to underestimate other. Says that no one ever compared to his beauty and no one can make him fall. Kai is so arrogant he even didn't wants to take a look at the mortal realm because he knows human can't beat god's beauty. But Taehyun know one girl who lived in the forest, her house located near to the river. She has a face that he so sure can defeated Kai's ego. Her name is-

"Y/N! Where are you? Can you help me with the dishes please"

"Yes mother! I will come, wait a minute" she replied.

You has no doubt that you heard a sound of a falling peach to the ground and want to check around because those naughty kids already stole peaches from your family garden three times this week! But before you can find those rackals your mother already called you. You took a deep breath before finally turn your body and leave the garden.

You didn't has any clue that someone was peeking behind the trees watching you in silent. Huening Kai watched you walked into the garden with your long silky hair, skin like porcelain, and face like heaven. He's too stunned with your beauty that he drop his peach (he took it from your garden earlier to check if this peach taste better than his) he just took one bite untill you came.

When he dropped the peach, you immediately look at surrounding, try to find the peach thieves. Indeed there's a peach thieves, but he's not a rascal kid nor a human, but God itself. After you get into the house, Kai fly away leaving that place fastest as he can. His heart go pit-a-pat, he never feel his heart beating this fast. He can't believe it that a mortal being can make him feel like this and he's to embarassed to admit that You, are beautiful.

Taehyun asked Kai his opinion about those peach but Kai refused to answer and got mad. Those peach taste terrible blend, didn't have chance at all to compete his peach. Seeing Kai's reaction Taehyun hid his smile because he knows that his brother must be already met you.

As time pass by, Huening Kai drawn in madness. He can't help to go to your garden and see you from afar silently watching you picking the fruits. You didn't know that you are not alone and carelessly wearing thin fabric showing the curves and silhouette of your body. The cold breeze sweeping through your clothes and hair, making your nipple became hard and stiff stand out behind the fabric.

Kai feel something weird about himself when watched the scenery, he feel hot, and for the first time he saw his dick raised up and became so hard. Without any doubt he slowly caress his manhood up and down, he didn't know about this at all, his hand moved by its own and he start to fasting his movement and let out a little moan while his eyes watching you and his dick looking in turns.

He finally come and leave his cum trace on the tree.

After that he fell sit to the ground with mixed emotion. He felt relief, angry, disappointed, and embarassed. Then he fly go back to his place and make a promise to himself that he will never come to your garden again, he didn't want to see you again. To Strengthen his will, Kai start to denial and plant hatred towards you.

He think there's no way a human can have that beauty, is his father (Zeus) have other Illegitimate child that Kai didn't know and it could be you. A face combination from god?

Did that thing work? Did Kai really does stop coming to your garden? Absolutely not.

He can't help but continue to come to you and see you in silent, watched you doing your daily activity while he's masturbating behind the tree behind the bushes. He do it aggresively because he can't help to deny his feelings meanwhile his body say other words. But looking at you from afar is not enough, he want to see you closer, he wants to know you better so he can hate you even more.

So one day he decided to met you, he change himself to human, hides his wing.

He is so sly, he acted dumb playing with you. Suddenly approach you asking for direction so he can be closer with you. He saw your face clearly for the first time and he can’t hides his happiness by giving a wide smile and blushing.

You are in the middle of picking peaches when a yound handsome man came to you. You never see him before, and you are mesmerized by his beauty. You thought he always has that rosy cheeks while it only shows at you. Then he said his name is “Hyuka” what a lovely name.

.

.

.

Chapter 2 (Upcoming)

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hiyori Reader and please? She’s Qin Shi Huang, Hades, Hercules and Apollo’s wife and has just as much confidence and authority as an Empress/Queen as well as for being the Daughter of a Shogun, her father Oden, espite that she’s actually a caring, kind and gentle woman with her Husband, the man who won over her heart (As he didn’t see her as an object but instead a person)

Reader is good friends with Aphrodite and loves to play her music for Shiva as he became a fan of her father’s and likes to dance to her music

She and (Love) keep their marriage a secret as they don’t want attention

However when an arrogant god has been abusing others, mainly humans, well as repeatedly tried to hit on her for her beauty and trying to make her marry him, she’s had enough especially when he insulted her father Oden for being a ‘Fool’ and harmed him with a divine tool and after she slapped him

“I’m the Shogun’s Daughter, I am Y/N, when you speak to me, mind your tongue!! Even when I was starving, even when I was dressed in rags, I carried with me the honor that my father brought to our name! You have never been a proper god a day in your life! You’re nothing but a thief! An imposter! You’re a lowly worm and a coward!! And the longer you live your pathetic excuse of a life the more innocent people die!!”

I love how much of a queen Hiyori is and her speech to Orochi gave me CHILLS

-You were a stunning beauty- one that so many in Valhalla admired and worshipped- your stunning beauty and grace was known to rival even Aphrodite’s- who wasn’t bothered, as she was a good friend of yours.

-Your beauty was something natural, your parents blessing you with your mother’s looks, but your father’s heart- as you were a proud woman, always willing to help those who needed it the most.

-That’s another reason so many admired you- for your kind and gentle heart- you were especially popular with the kids, who loved to come and see you, listening to your music or watching you dance.

-You had many friends in Valhalla, not just Aphrodite, many warriors found themselves drawn to you- they could sense you were more powerful than you let on, but you were very careful not to reveal any of your secrets.

-Shiva and Rudra loved to listen to your music, as they would dance, showing you unique dancing that you had never seen, and in exchange you would show them and others in the Hindu Pantheon your own dancing, which was something they had yet to experience, but they loved it.

-While adored and loved by all, but when others would come confessing their love to you- you would tell them that you were already married, and happily so. Many were distraught to learn this, but you never said to who.

-Only a small handful of people knew who you were married to- as you and (Love) kept it quiet, mainly because the two of you didn’t want to deal with the headaches, as he was also highly desired by others in Valhalla.

-The way you carried yourself was a good hint, as you carried yourself like an empress, someone of great power- but that was only part of it- as you were the daughter of a Shogun, and you wouldn’t let anyone forget it.

-You were at a party in the Hindu Pantheon, your husband was there as well, as it was a gathering of humans and gods- the warriors from Ragnarok. Shiva had asked you to play some of your music, which you were happy to do.

-Your angelic smile caught the attention of many as you played, putting your heart and soul into your music, something that (Love) couldn’t help but smile over- you were so passionate.

-When you were done playing for the moment, so you could take a small break and get something to drink, you flashed a small smile towards (Love) who was across the room.

-You then heard a familiar voice, and you groaned softly internally, hearing the voice of Kand, a cocky god who wasn’t taking your rejections with grace- he didn’t believe that you were married, thinking you were just saying that to keep others away, and that you were just shy!

-He quickly approached, asking you, loudly, to marry him again. Everything went silent- seeing the proposal and Shiva sent a worried glance over at (Love), as he was one of the few who knew who you were married to- he was all for brawls- but he didn’t really want one at today’s party.

-Your voice was firm, as were your eyes, “I am not interested.” Your constant rejections were annoying him- he was willing to give you a chance, because you were a human, because you were beautiful- but you were being so stuck up about it!!

-He glared hard, “Get off your high horse Y/N- you’re nobody special so I don’t know why you are walking around here like you own the place- that loser of a father of yours lost his title when he was killed so you can just-”

-The moment he mentioned your father, you saw red and SLAP!!!!

-The slap echoed around the party, stunning everyone into silence again as he was sent spinning before falling to his knees, his ears ringing as you glared harshly down at him, “I am the Shogun’s daughter- I am Y/N! When you speak to me, mind your tongue! Even when I was starving, even when I was dressed in rags, I carried with me the honor that my father brought to our name! You have never been a proper god a day in your life! You’re nothing but a thief! An imposter! You’re a lowly worm and a coward!! And the longer you live your pathetic excuse of a life- the more innocent people die!!”

-Your speech was so passionate that so many were staring at you in awe as he finally managed to stand, furious that you had struck him, “How dare you-”

-He was cut off when you took a step forward, then another, “Don’t like it- then cut me down! I won’t stop when I know I am right- I am a samurai’s daughter. I will not live in disgrace!”

-A hand clapped down on your shoulder, and you turned to see (Love) there, looking quite unlike himself, as he was furious looking, making Kand fold in on himself, before he spoke, “I don’t take kindly to others speaking so rudely to my wife- worm. Get lost.”

-Many were surprised that (Love) outed the two of you as a couple, but you weren’t bothered, you were going to stand by your husband’s decision as the two of you looked like such a power couple together as Kand was quick to rush out of the party.

-Everything was silent for a moment, before loud cheers filled the room, surprising you as Shiva cheered, happy that you two finally announced yourselves publicly.

-You smiled demurely, cupping your cheek as the party got started again.

-He turned to you, taking your hand in his own, making sure you didn’t hurt yourself with such a powerful slap, “Are you alright, Y/N?” you just smiled, taking your hand back, not looking at all bothered, “I am- it hurts but I am not bothered.” He smiled softly, seeing your strength as he pecked your forehead softly- he knew that you could handle yourself with ease.

            -Hercules and Hades

-Held your hand softly, massaging it once the two of you were sitting again, “I can’t believe that bastard tried to take you away from me!” you just laughed softly, seeing him jealous as you reached up, cupping his cheek gently, “He would never have me- not while you still live. And even then- I would chose death first before being with such a man.” He beamed at your praise, pecking your cheek softly, making you smile.

            -Qin Shi Huang and Apollo

[highvern]

When in Rome TEASER

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x f!reader

Genre: fluff, smut, angst

warnings: alcohol consumption, cheating, penetrative sex, nudity, mentions of drug use, more tbd

Length: tbd, teaser: ~3k

Note: excited to have this for the @svthub world tour collab! thank u to everyone who helped me brain storm and ofc @gyuswhore for dealing with the insanity that is my brain

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

Leave a comment if you would like to be tagged when this is posted on July 7th. YOU MUST HAVE AN AGE IN BIO TO BE ADDED!

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

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 Sofie’s maid of honor. 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 Seungcheol texted a half hearted apology and 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. 

In the evening light, the house is more daunting. An imposing stone facade rises from the ground, more 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. 

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, 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. “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.”

“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 the last time Seungcheol saw him was 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.” 

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. “Seems 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.”

“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’re not ready to tell him.

“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 then the boxes were packed away and the moving truck came and you left with it. 

Everything else hits him in the seclusion of the bedroom. Your shared room. At least for the rest of the week.

Seungcheol isn’t happy. He is, but because you’re you, argument aside. If Johnny makes you happy enough to tie your lives together then he 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.

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

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited

[confused-simp-jpg]

(boy)friend

Pairing: holland!Peter Parker / reader

(no pronouns used for reader as far as I know)

Warnings: brief mention of bullying (and a shitty ending cause I suck at writing those)

General Plot: You are on a quest to befriend your awkward schoolmate and find that you might become something a little more

Genre:                fluff

Words:               1.2k

A/N: Honestly, I just wanted to try posting on here for the first time so I put together a little fanfic, so it might not be the most well written and thought out story, so please excuse all the plot holes and poor writing.

masterlist

A new schoolyear had begun and like every year you had devoted yourself to making a new friend. Having been the quiet kid with no friends you had decided to overcome your fear of talking to new people and after finding a great group of friends you started to look for new additions to said group every year.

At the end of last school year, you had noticed a small duo, a cute brunette and his best friend, you’d never see one without the other. But recently you had picked up on the near constant flow of bullying directed at the two by a kid named flash.

Truth be told you always were the kind of person to search for the good in someone even if they were being an asshole and it’s not like you thought Flash was the scum of the earth or something like that he just had the sort of personality most people perceived as arrogant, annoying and overall disgusting, their words not yours, although you had to agree. He was by no means an evil person per se he just seemed to lack basic human decency in its entirety.

So when you became aware of the two victims of Flash’s idiocy and their almost unbothered attitude towards him, you decided to get to know them a bit better in hopes of befriending them.

It was Monday where you had an irregular lunch break at a time no one else did, when you saw your opportunity.

“Hey… is this seat taken?”, you smiled down at the completely surprised brunette.

“Uh…yeah… I mean no… I mean you can sit…if you want obviously”, he stuttered out, stumbling over his words and trying his best to keep his voice from completely giving out.

You giggled and sat down:

“Thanks, I was worried I wouldn’t find a good seat anymore, I’m Y/N btw”

“I’m Peter”, a soft blush adorned his cheeks.

Peter looked around in the mostly empty cafeteria and his brows furrowed slightly:

“Uhm, you know there are like a lot of free tables. Not that I want you to leave but… you know?”, he hesitantly brought up.

You looked up at him a smile tugging at the corners of your lips and answered:

“Yeah, but it’s not a good lunch seat when you sit alone isn’t it?”

“…I guess…yeah”

There was a bit of comfortable silence between you before you spoke up again.

“You’re not usually alone here right? I think every time I’ve seen you he was right next to you”, you chuckled

He seemed a bit caught off guard by you breaking the silence but recovered fast.

“Yeah, Ned wasn’t feeling all too well today, so he stayed home and left me alone here.”, Peter said jokingly.

“Oh, tell him I hope he feels better soon then, he seems like a nice dude when he’s not abandoning you.”

Talking about his friend came easier to Peter than small talk and the conversation flowed seamlessly from how Ned had ‘abandoned’ him to what things they got up to recently.

In turn you shared some stories from you and your friends taking the opportunity to invite him and Ned to come along with you to the arcade at the end of the week.

Although hesitant at first, with a bit of convincing he agreed to meet the following Friday.

Your talk with Peter in the cafeteria had not been the last time the two of you had interacted and every conversation with him made you more excited for the next.

Peter really was such a sweet soul and hanging out with him always felt comfortable.

Friday rolled around and you were waiting on your friends and Peter in front of the arcade. It was a common occurrence for them to be late so when a out of breath Peter ran up to you and started to apologize profusely you just smiled and reassured him that he was fine.

You noticed Ned wasn’t with him and when asked about it, Peter explained that he still wasn’t feeling better.

Slowly but surely the rest of the group came by as well and soon enough everyone was present.

The entire afternoon went by in a haze filled with laughter, everyone enjoying themselves and even though Peter was a bit shy at first, he fit right in, and everyone welcomed him with open arms.

Even without really noticing or intending on it, you and Peter stayed close and stole innocent touches here and there along with soft looks.

Unbeknownst to you your friends had noticed the fact that you and Peter seemed joined at the hip and shared smiles about the clear interest both of you displayed for the other.

You felt a tap on your shoulder and were met with one of your closest friends MJ, who led you away from the group.

“Can you two go on a date without us? It’s getting a bit pathetic with the way he’s looking at you.”, she deadpanned, catching you off guard. Your mouth dropped open and blood rushed to your face.

“What?”, a confused chuckle escaped your throat.

“Come on Y/N, you two are clearly interested in each other. Everyone has noticed at this point. So just tell him and get on with it!”

MJ never was the kind of best friend who talked to you about relationships unprompted, you loved to tell her about crushes and troubles simply because of her objective and brutally honest advice and comments, but she never started these types of conversations so this was new.

“MJ, he’s sweet sure but I’ve only known him for a week and yeah of course I like him but calling it a crush would be a bit rushed don’t you think?”, you smiled at her.

“Obviously, but I’m just saying, you two have been smiling at each other so much even I felt giddy” MJ shuddered overdramatically

You laughed and hugged her. “Oh MJ, I love you so so much”

MJ scrunched up her face and awkwardly hugged you back, never having been much of a physical touch kind of person but tolerating it for you.

The two of you returned to the group and the afternoon continued without another hitch although you were more and more aware of the shy smiles shared between you and Peter.

At first the two of you were shy and awkward on dates but once you got more comfortable with eachother you shared inside jokes and and started teasing eaxhother playfully.  

A few months after the arcade meet up which were filled with almost daily texts and constant talking, Peter awkwardly asked:

“ So… are we…are you…I mean, am I your…”

His stressed expression and the more and more panicked waving of his hands had you chuckling slightly once you realized what exactly he was trying to ask of you.

“I think we are and I am and you are. If you want to that is”, you answered with a soft smile, your hand ever so slightly reaching for his.

Relief washed over Peter and you thought to yourself, how bad he was at hiding his true feelings, it felt like you could read him like an open book, like he couldn’t possibly have secrets that you didn’t know about with how open he seemed.

“Thank god!”, Peter exclaimed and engulfed your hand in his, tugging you along to his home for the movie night you had planned.

[msnanu]

Libertine 08 | JJK

Libertines put value on physical pleasures, meaning those experienced through the senses.

❧ Series Masterlist ❧

⏤summary ❧ He has a reputation for being the most promiscuous man on campus, and you, well, you are basically him in women’s pants. It will be the very first time that Jungkook is faced with someone who is gonna make him question his feelings and actions.

⏤𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 ❧ f*boy jungkook x f*girl female reader

⏤𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 ❧ some fluff, smut, mild angst, teasing and lots of sexual tension.

⏤𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 ❧ mature language, NSFW🔞

❧ banner by: @dojakoo ❧

Hearing your own name, you forced yourself and took a step back, freeing yourself from Jungkook's strong grip. Your eyes were widened, and your breathing became loud, ragged, you swallowed hard and gazed up at him superbly. Your gaze was filled with arrogance and pride. Your mouth was slightly open as you cautiously pondered what your next words would be.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes on you. At first, seeing you trembling, Jungkook felt sorry, and a part of him regretted putting you in that situation. However, that last look you were giving him made him furious, annoyed.

He swallowed hard, getting up from the counter. His heart was racing, his face was hard. Dear God, how he hated being in that position. In the position of someone who had given in, somehow confessed.

Seeing you wet your lips to initiate some sort of response that he already knew wouldn't be decent, Jungkook anticipated.

“I see.” 

It was the only thing he managed to say before his voice started to crack.

Jungkook was keeping a safe distance from you. Not so close so you could manipulate him and not so far away that you could escape.

Hearing his answer, you took a step forward and sought to place your hand on his arm.

“Jungkook,” you pleaded.

You seemed determined to answer him, not to let that conversation go unfinished, but whatever answer Jungkook got now wouldn't make him feel much better. He dodged your fervent hands, seeking his way out of the kitchen. That space was getting too small for all that drama.

“I don't care.” Jungkook said defeated. “And I don't wanna know.”

He turned away, hearing your footsteps follow him.

“Jungkook, wait.” You raised your voice, insisting.

Jungkook stopped halfway, standing in the center of the room. He thought for a few seconds if he should turn to face you. He knew that looking at you now could bring him to his knees. Despite all that drama, you were still the same Y/N who had caught his eye in the courtyard, the same one who had rejected him, who had slept with his friend, who had slept with him.

You had a certain power over him, which although it was painful for him to admit, he knew you disturbed him.

Thinking of his own well-being, Jungkook took a deep breath and continued his selfish steps toward the door. He couldn't give you a chance to explain.

Without turning around, with his hand on the knob, he said softly. “I can take you home now.” 

He thought of adding a “if you wish” to the end of the sentence, but regardless of your will, it was his will that you’d go home. If he stayed one more second in the same room with you, either you would fight badly, or he would end up talking too much about how he feels about you. And neither of those two options sounded good to him.

He heard you scoff.

It was a scoff that filled the entire room, making it unbearable to be in. Jungkook didn't need to look to know that you were staring at him with probably the most arrogant demeanor you possessed and your face in disbelief.

In a matter of seconds, the mocking sound were replaced by your steady steps towards the door.

You didn’t understand him. You didn’t understand his feelings or yours. He is a certified fuckboy; you are just the same. His words were too difficult for you to process and even more, to believe. It was in your nature to not feel anything for the people you slept with. But who were you kidding? You both were way past that, even when you were denying it to yourself and him. Neither of you wanted to let your guards down.

To Jungkook's misfortune, your agility in getting through the door caused your cursed scent to leave an intoxicating trail behind. It was the purest scent of agony mixed with lust. A scent that made Jungkook want to take you by the arm and strip all of your clothes off, slowly so that you agonized, as he kissed every inch of your body, as he worshiped every inch of you. At the same time, it was a scent that made him sick to his stomach, that made him want to throw you out of his life for good.

You were intoxicating, venomous, and noxious. A real danger to his peace of mind.

Oh, dear God, how in that moment he wished he'd never met you, never looked for you, never crossed your path. Quickly Taehyung's speech about seeing you as a challenge came to his mind. He had indeed seen you as a challenge, something impossible that he would somehow achieve, but now that didn't matter, it didn't make the slightest difference, he already knew he had lost. And worst of all, he knew he cared for you, felt it in his bones, that he cared for you.

You had rejected him. At the slightest sign of affection that he'd let slip, you'd rejected him. Without even saying a word.

His thoughts were trying to organize themselves, trying to figure out a way to forget about you or at least forget about that shitty kitchen scene. 

He watched you get into his car with the same boastful look on your face, your mouth healing into a fully disgusted pout.

The drive to your house was extremely torturing. Jungkook was physically uncomfortable. You remained silent, slowly your hard face turned into a soft, relieved face, which made Jungkook feel even more uncomfortable. You didn't look so angry anymore, it was like you felt…satisfied or more at ease.

Your breathing had calmed down and your body didn't seem anxious. 

Jungkook felt hatred.

His eyes were so wide on the street in front of him that he could barely understand how he had noticed so many details of the girl next to him. With each turn that approached your house he let out a low sigh, his hands were eager on the steering wheel, it was as if the end of the world was coming.

Approaching your building, Jungkook began to swallow hard, his throat getting drier than usual. It was that old feeling of anticipation, but this time it had nothing to do with sex, and that was terrible.

He parked slowly and refused to look at you, even though his body was practically forcing him to. His eyes were trembling, practically begging him to look at you. His fingers drummed the steering wheel, crying out to feel the softness of your body. And his lips twitched, wanting to taste you. 

You leaned on the car's gearshift and approached Jungkook. Again, your scent made him take a deep breath. In a slow and extremely long movement, you placed a kiss on his cheek, making him clench his jaw. It was a gentle kiss, without a hint of lust.

It wasn't an “I'm sorry” kiss, much less an “I care about you” kiss, but it was a kiss of resignation, at least that’s what he thought. It was as if you were telling him that nothing had changed, that he could look for you again. It was weird. The naturalness with you managed to sound so unassuming with just a simple kiss on his cheek. While his emotions were running high, his mind seemed to have no control over his body, you were there beside him, calm, serene.

In reality you were confused as fuck, you couldn’t understand why he was so upset. He didn’t even let you talk. You felt like he was constantly confusing you. One day he is rubbing in your face that he’s with Seulgi, the next day he is saying that he cares about you. How is it possible to believe his words? And if it was the truth, you really didn’t know how to handle it, you didn’t want to start overthinking about how he makes you feel, you were just fucking for crying out loud!

God only knows how much Jungkook wanted to look at you right now, wanted to turn and hold your face close, wanted to kiss you until he forgot why he was so pissed. Everything in that small space in the car seemed amplified. His blood felt even hotter, the softness of your lips against his face made him shiver, even the crackling sound of your kiss on his cheek seemed too loud.

With his jaw still clenched, Jungkook struggled to keep looking straight ahead, not an inch to the side. Despite every fiber in his body begging him to give in, he didn't want to, he already felt small enough next to you, he didn't need another reason to feel even worse.

When you slowly pulled away, he allowed himself to take a deep breath and loosen his grip on the steering wheel.

You didn't wait for him to look at you, with all the calm in the world you got out of the car and walked towards the entrance of your building. Out of the corner of his eye, Jungkook saw that you hadn't turned around at all. That situation was pure torture.

And there went another shitty weekend. For the first time in his life Jungkook was looking forward to Monday, at least in college he wouldn't have to think about you.

Absolutely everything he did reminded him of you. His bed had that fucking good smell, every part of his sheet smelled like that. The kitchen had few memories of your smiles, your kisses. The living room reminded him of the two of you lying together, teasing each other. It was the embodiment of hell on Earth.

You had made his own house unbearable to be in.

It was different for him to feel this way, to feel so affected by a girl, especially by a girl who was supposed to be just another fuck in his life. Jungkook couldn't say he hated that feeling. On the one hand it was exciting, dangerous, as if he were pushing the limits of his own body, on the other hand it was depressing, worrying, and extremely vulnerable.

All weekend his body begged for you. It was physically painful how needy he was for you, for your body. At the end of Sunday, he thought about calling you, he thought about going to your house, he even thought about relieving himself, but he knew it would only make him feel weaker. His ego hadn't diminished enough for him to humble himself for you, not yet.

As he made his way to the courtyard to meet his friends on Monday, Jungkook silently thanked God. He was... happy. Heavens, that was absurd. He couldn't understand how a girl could mess with him so much as to make him like going to college. 

With hurried steps, he craved the company of his friends. He wanted to hear about Yoongi's weekend with some random girl, Jin's football bullshit, Taehyung's advice, even wanted to roll his eyes at Jimin, anything that would keep him from thinking about you.

It was time for the last class, he wanted to be in college, but he didn't really want to participate. So, it felt good to arrive for the final class. At least the professors wouldn't complain about his absence all morning.

Approaching his group, an incredibly familiar laugh emerged.

Slowing his steps, his eyes caught a small figure in front of Taehyung. With your hair down and shorts that barely reached mid-thigh, you were gesturing something that was making his friend laugh.

His other friends seemed engaged in their own conversations, but you and Taehyung were in your own little world. Your laughter was loud and joined together in unison, making the scene even more irritating for Jungkook. Your body was moving excitedly, your hair felt extremely soft as it moved under your shoulder, and your skin glowed against the sun.

He tried to swallow hard, tried to scold, even tried to blink to see if you were really there, but his body failed to show any stimulation. Despite your loud voices, he just couldn't hear the conversation, his mind was blank, a complete void.

“Son of a bitch.” He muttered to himself.

Finally, mustering some strength, his face turned into a sneering, incredulous smile.

Seconds later his gaze met Taehyung's, who was clearly not aware of the unpleasant situation you both had ended up in on Friday.

“Kook! I thought you weren't coming today.” Taehyung roared happily.

From that moment forward, all events were exceptionally planned by some superior divine force to mistreat Jungkook. He felt like the entire universe was plotting against him, punishing him for something he didn't know he'd done.

Oh, how roles had reversed, he didn’t even realize that he was feeling the same exact way that girls who slept with him used to feel afterwards when he ignored them completely.

Your voice fell silent. Your body slowly turned to face him, your hands were now down and all the excitement from before was gone. Your face was serious, impassive as usual, but with a hint of superiority. Looking at you from above, he could even feel a little better, but that feeling lasted seconds.

There it was just the two of you, there was no Taehyung, there was no one else.

“Don't you have your own friends to bother with?” The words came out bitter from his lips. “Or somewhere better to be?”

Okay, he is mad.

Before you could respond, Jungkook caught Taehyung's startled reaction behind you. His hyung was whisper-screaming what Jungkook guessed to be a “Dude, what the fuck?”. Taehyung seemed, at the same time, discredited at his friend's lack of manners and confused by his gratuitous rudeness.

“I actually do, indeed. I just wanted to talk to you today.” You replied simplistically, your voice low.

Your calm in certain kinds of situations should no longer surprise him, however, once again he found himself speechless. You were standing in front of him with your posture straight, exuding a degree of confidence that could defy even death. Your voice, though low, was extremely steady, and your eyes dared not leave his.

You were really a seductress, a kind of sorceress, who could at any moment wrest whatever you wanted from him.

Jungkook didn't want to talk to you, didn't want to hear what you had to say, didn't want to give you even the chance to manipulate him, but in some kind of twisted way he wanted to be in your presence, despite denying it to himself.

Struggling to hide his surprise, he simply nodded.

“What do you want?” He asked dryly.

A mocking giggle escaped your lips. “Not here, not now, Jungkook. I have class n-”

God, his name sounded like the most esoteric thing in the world coming from your mouth.

Annoyed by your laughter, he quickly cut you off. “I can only talk now, darling.”

What an asshole he is.

Watching you swallow, Jungkook couldn't help but smile triumphantly. That had been one of the few times he'd managed to make you uncomfortable, he had to be given credit. You huffed, looking at him impatiently. He knew you didn't like to skip classes, which made this scene even more fun for him.

You bit your lip, staring at him with disdain.

“Fine.” You gave in. “But not here.”

Once again, a smile played on his lips. For the second time since meeting you, Jungkook felt the upper hand. And this time, it had nothing to do with sex. 

“Lead the way.” He said blatantly, making room for you to pass.

Before following you, his gaze met Taehyung's, who now seemed even more unhappy with your communication or lack of, should I say? Jungkook made a point of winking at his friend, desperately wanting to show he was in control, even though he knew a snap of your fingers would bring him to his knees.

For a brief moment, he felt bad for his friend. He knew that Taehyung was trying to help him, that all his mention of you had been intended to get him to finally "settle" with someone. But Taehyung didn't know you like he did, at least that's what he liked to think, didn't know that you could be a demon when you wanted to, that you'd already rejected him, that you could at any moment sleep with some other friend of his.

There were several things he would never admit to his friend, things that were part of his private insecurities.

Following in your footsteps, Jungkook noticed the people around them dwindling, as did the side conversations. You were taking him to the college garden, behind the athletic field. Your footsteps ahead of him were steady, loud, and he could see that your hands were clenching, as if they were trying to control their anxiety.

You didn’t even know what to say exactly. Since when do you have talks with your fuck buddies? You fuck and go, that’s the beauty of it, there’s no complications, no feelings involved, no ‘I care about you’ but somehow, here you are, about to have a talk with Jeon Jungkook and you are fucking anxious because this is not your comfort zone at all and worst of all, you know he has noticed it.

When you were a good distance away from the rest of the students, you stopped abruptly and leaned against the gym's railing.

The silence between the two remained for a very short time.

“So?” Jungkook asked, feigning indifference.

You took a deep breath, your mouth starting to mumble some things Jungkook couldn't understand. You were hesitating.

As helpless as you looked, he couldn't help but find that scene a masterpiece.

He took a step forward, teasing you. “Y/N?”

With his head tilted slightly, he felt he had invaded your personal space.

“I'm not here to apologize to you, Jungkook.” You said between a long sigh. At this point, it was obvious how uncomfortable that situation was for you. Your whole way of acting screamed insecurity, your feet were restless, your hands were clenched, and your lips were moist at an absurd frequency. “I just... I... You seemed distant when you dropped me home on Friday.”

Were you for real?

Worst of all, you actually looked serious as you spoke to him. Jungkook was so incredulous, how could you be so ignorant? Acting as if his behavior was something unusual for that situation. Which then again, for you it was unusual.

You couldn’t stop thinking how much of this is so weird for you and out of all people that you’ve slept with that he, the most promiscuous guy in the campus, is the one confessing that he supposedly ‘cares about you’. It’s hard to think that any of his words could be truthful.

Jungkook couldn't help but frown at you.

“Why do you care? As far as I remember, you don't feel anything for me.” He grinned teasingly. “Right, Y/N?”

Jungkook wanted to sound much more serious, cordial, tough, but the atmosphere at the moment practically begged him to be a complete asshole and use every mocking tone he possessed.

You were just a few feet away, your scent as always making a point of showing him that you could dominate him whenever you wanted, whenever you felt like it. The white blouse you were wearing was tight, which molded your body even more. The shorts you were wearing drew even more attention from his eyes to your thighs. It was a whole compilation of things that made him lose his mind just being around you.

To his misfortune, besides teasing him in the right measure, you also knew exactly how to deal with the kind of attitude he was having.

Before even allowing your face to transform into one of indignation, you forced yourself to return his smile.

“Right, Jungkook.”

Jungkook.

Thousands of girls could repeat his name and none of them would compare.

You continued, flashing an even more brazen smile. “What a spoiled man you are. Or should I say boy?” You took a step forward trying to intimidate him. “I’m not here because I want to apologize for leaving you without an answer.”

Watching you build confidence was quite a show for Jungkook. That's because on Friday you looked like the most helpless creature in the world in his house.

He enjoyed that.

“I’m here because our sex is great, and I don’t want lose it.” Your voice came out steady, serene.

Is it only for the sex, though? He was indeed the best sex you’ve ever had. But you were denied to see it as something more, even if your stomach felt weird every time you looked at those doe eyes. It’s just sex, you repeated yourself in your own mind.

A silly smile played on Jungkook's lips; his eyebrows involuntarily raised in surprise. He'd already lost count of how many times your sincerity had frightened him. He thought with time he would get used to it, but every time it was the same shock. 

You kept your face relaxed, and your tone was extremely smug. You could defeat even the devil with all that arrogance.

Seeing that Jungkook had made no move to question you, you continued to tease him, unabashedly. “Are you mad because you were the first to give in?”

Your voice was now a whisper, almost menacing.

At that, he had to laugh.

It hadn't been intentional, but Jungkook just couldn't hold back the loud laugh that came to his lips. You both had a playful smile on your faces, but it was clear that yours was more confident. Even with Jungkook's mockery you held your ground.

“You know so little about me, Y/N.” He leaned forward, forcing you to take a step back.

A mocking sigh rose in the air. “Too bad for you, boy, I know everything about you.” You narrowed your eyes and tilted your head, looking straight at him. “I know how much you hate being in this position, how you love when women come after you, when they get jealous of you. I know how much you enjoy the way Seulgi acts when I’m around you.”

Jungkook swallowed, trying to maintain his composure.

He was definitely not expecting that one, those details, that mention of Seulgi. You were playing to win while he was just having fun, it was time to turn the tide. 

The pair of piercing brown eyes were still looking at him, as if challenging him, as if begging him to fight back.

“For someone who didn’t want to be bothered by me that day in the cafeteria, you’ve been paying awfully a lot of attention to me.” One more step forward, the idea of depriving you of avenues of escape made him more confident.

Two steps forward, Jungkook brought your body into the fence that surrounded the sports court. He didn't touch you, but the pressure he put on you made you step back. Your breathing became audible, and your mouth parted, trying to control your anxiety.

You licked your lips, mustering up all the confidence you had to challenge him again. “Did you really think I would sleep with you without first arming myself against your schemes?”

An inaudible “oh” escaped him.

He had no way of knowing if you were telling the truth, if you were trying to disguise how much you paid attention to him, or if you had actually done a little “research” on him. However, he had to admit your qualities. You knew exactly how to get away with that kind of teasing. 

He liked the way you continued to amaze him, even if it was used against him.

Bracing one of his hands on the fence behind you, Jungkook leaned forward so that he was almost leveled with your face. A faint smile played on his lips. There was room for you to move away from him, but you remained still.

“You’re one of the smartest girls I’ve been with.” He confessed, closer to you.

He expected you to blush, to feel intimidated, even to curse him, but you looked at him with disdain.

“Should I feel praised?”

Bitter.

Finishing your sentence, Jungkook hurried to continue his. He didn't want to make room for you to feel comfortable. His other hand went to the fence, and the space between your bodies became ridiculously small. He could feel your hot breath hitting violently his cheeks. His eyes went straight to the slightly reddened lips in front of him.

Always beautiful.

“The smartest, dedicated, thoughtful girl I’ve been with.” He pressed his lips together, watching closely for your any small movement. “It even makes me feel a little bit better about giving in.”

The last part was definitely a lie. It was more likely to snow in hell than he admits that he'd be glad he'd given in before you. He knew his life with you would be easier if he would just admit that you had messed with him, that he had an interest in you, but that would force him to be vulnerable, to let his guard down, definitely something he had no interest in. Same as you.

Plus, it was almost his graduation year, he's gonna manage to maintain his reputation as a rake for a little longer. It was just patience. It wouldn’t be you who would ruin his entire legacy.

“Is that how you do with all of them?” The breath of your voice snapped him out of his little reverie.

Your breath was excessively hot and smelled faintly of mint. 

You had a small smile on the corner of your mouth, and your face was slightly tilted up. He was inches from your lips, one simple movement and he could end this argument.

“I don’t care about all of them.” He replied convincingly, even if he was a little confused. Were you referring to other girls? Could that be a hint of jealousy? He would like to think so.

Your voice instantly retorted him. “Do you always use this husky voice of yours, this heartthrob pose and this womanizing charm?” You licked your lips, and he couldn’t control his smirk.

Jungkook was still annoyed with you, even though you were there flirting with him, you still rejected him. However, he would never back down from one of his advances, at that moment, you were there with him, alone, restless, desirous, he would surely be able to handle the rest of “your” situation later.

“Is it working?” He asked and one of his hands went to your face.

You didn't even flinch when his thumb started to caress your cheek, didn't even try to pull away, no sound of complaint came out of your mouth. Instead, you moved your face a little to find the warmth of his hand.

Jungkook leaned his body further against yours, just enough to find physical contact.

“You can pretend you don’t feel anything for me, Y/N,” His thumb rubbed your lips, and he heard your gasp. “But we both know I’m the one who leaves you wet, who makes you shiver inside, just aching to be touched.”

Motherfucker.

Involuntarily his body rubbed against yours. That had been an asshole move of his, and he knew it. Embarrassing you like this in “public” wasn't his intention, but it was as if he needed it, he needed you to once feel dominated, the way you dominated him most of the time.

He could have thrown it in your face at any other time, but in a private place it wouldn't have the same effect. Any student or professor could walk by and see you both, and then it would be the famous Y/N falling under the spell of the stallion Jeon Jungkook.

With the contact of his finger on your lips, your mouth was slightly open. There was a small air of outrage, but what prevailed was desire.

“Son of a bitch.” You whispered in his lips. Your voice wasn't as steady as before.

His hand left the fence and cupped your face. 

Instinctively your hands gripped his wrists, not trying to restrain them, but surprised by the contact.

He chuckled. It was funny to see you uncertain, hesitant.

His thumbs pressed lightly against your chin, and now your lips were at the same height. Jungkook couldn't help but notice, for the hundredth time, how beautiful you were. With your face upturned, your dark locks fell further over your shoulders, your jaw was perfectly shaped, your lips were extremely soft under his previous touch, and your eyes were mesmerizing, flickering between his eyes and lips.

With a simple advance, Jungkook brushed his lips against yours. It wasn't exactly a kiss, it was subtle, tricky. When he met your mouth, his fingertips felt the tiny hairs on the back of your neck prickling.

“I forgot to mention, one of the prettiest too.”

Fuck. He’s gonna be the death of me.

Your lips parted, letting out a low moan. The small space was enough for Jungkook’s tongue to slide in to meet yours.

For a long moment he kept his hands on your face, holding you as if his life depended on it. Your hands loosened around his wrist, and Jungkook took advantage to advance further on you. Your body was now pressed against the fence, your tongue was lost between his lips.

Despite the limited space, your body shifted anxiously beneath his. One of his hands went to the back of your neck, and he could feel your lips curve into a small smile between your kisses.

When his lips finally left yours, his other hand traveled to your waist, gripping you and pulling you even closer to him. His mouth trailed kisses down your chin and down the length of your neck to the beginning of your collarbone.

“Jungkook.” Your voice cracked.

It wasn’t a groan, but a warning. He couldn’t tell if it had to do with the two of you or the people who might pass by. However, as soon as your hands wrapped around his neck, he preferred to believe that you weren't worried about what people would say if they saw you there.

As the grips on your waist intensified, your mouth innovated in new curses. Meanwhile, Jungkook's lips took advantage of your entire neck, with kisses, light bites. You were completely at his mercy and didn’t even make a move to stop him. 

In that small moment, in that corner of the college, you were entirely his.

His face rose back up to kiss you again when he found a goofy smile dancing over your lips. He didn't know if he should have seen it, it looked more like it was your own personal smile, one you only gave when he wasn't looking.

From that smile alone he could have sworn you were in love with him, but then he remembered your face when you'd rejected him in his kitchen.

Ignoring those thoughts that insisted on returning to the surface, Jungkook collided, with some violence, on your lips. Taste of you never ceased to be good, your body never ceased to be soft, and the moans that escaped during your kisses never ceased to be musical.

God, why did you have to be so frustrating? Why should you have rejected him? Why were you so good? So... sublime? So… made up for him? 

He knew he wouldn't make it. The thoughts were everywhere, haunting him every time he thought of you, every time he touched you. It was as if that moment in the kitchen had defined the relationship you would have forever, whether as fuck buddies or something else . He hated to think of the idea of having you as “something else”, but he hated even more the idea of not having you at all. Jungkook’s mind was a mess. He didn’t even know what he wanted.

His hand came down to your thigh, squeezing it tightly, he wasn't thinking straight. A desperate groan crept between his lips. You were panting loudly, your tongue trying to get lost between his to prevent louder sounds from coming out.

As soon as his hand went up to your inner thigh, seeking to find your core, a smug giggle followed by a light clap of hands interrupted him.

Fuck.

Your hands instantly left his neck and went to the shorts you were wearing, making sure there was nothing beyond the normal exposed. Your face heated up and you quickly turned around, hiding in the crook of Jungkook's neck.

Slowly, calculating every move, Jungkook released your body and turned to face the figure who was cheering both of you. He wore his most arrogant face, ready for anything. He could fight anyone, argue, accept punishment for breaking the college's code of decency, he could even have an argument with Seulgi if he had to, but he couldn't face the man who was standing in front of them with a shameless smile.

“So, is that what I pay you college for?” The voice was serious but light.

You have to be kidding me.

Jungkook took a deep breath, his body rigid. “Dad.”

Jungkook swallowed, feeling all the skin on his body prickling. God, of all the people he imagined might be there watching him and you, his father was the one he least imagined, and also the one he feared the most. Not because of his severity, – he was not scared of his dad – but because of his petulance.

Every cell in his body was practically begging for this to be a dream, for him to magically wake up and be in his house, alone.

Hearing the word “dad” come out of Jungkook's lips, made you slowly lift your frowning face, you seemed to gape. Your eyes frantically analyzed the whole scene, trying at all costs not to miss any detail of the two men in front of you.

It was quite a show for you.

“What- What are-” Jungkook stuttered.

Without even getting a chance to finish his sentence, Jun-Yeol interrupted him. “I'll give you two a moment to settle down.”

His voice was so calm. Terrifyingly calm. 

Jun-Yeol nodded cynically, moving a few feet away from where you and Jungkook were.

Jungkook blinked a few times, still hoping that this was a dream and that he wouldn't have to put up with his father in five minutes.

Slowly, delaying each move, he turned to face you. Without quite understanding why, a feeling of shame swept over him. He didn’t know if it was because his father had caught him in a “compromising” situation or because you were witnessing that scene.

When his eyes finally met yours, he was surprised. You weren't bothered or at least, you didn't seem to be judging him, you just looked a little embarrassed. Your cheeks were flushed, and your lips pressed together, holding back laughter.

“Well, that was… weird.” You sighed, defeated.

You seemed incredibly resilient. A small smile playing on your lips as your hands frantically untangled strands of your hair. On the other hand, Jungkook was a nervous wreck. Nothing there was comfortable or funny. His serious face contrasted with the serene face of the girl in front of him.

Jungkook took a deep breath, looking at you in disbelief. 

“I’m sorry.” His voice was low, almost a whisper. Jungkook was noticing that more and more the word “sorry” was appearing on his lips, and that realization was horrible.

Your eyes looked over Jungkook's shoulder at the figure of his father. You bit your lip trying to piece together a quick profile of the well-dressed man standing in the middle of a college campus. He didn’t look awful, didn’t look nasty, just strict. He looked impatient, and as you returned your eyes to Jungkook, you couldn't help but notice how incredibly similar he was to his father.

“It’s okay.” You tried to quickly reassure him, but it was in vain.

“No, it’s not.” He immediately responded angrily.

Jungkook felt his heart racing, a noisy headache was starting to bother him. He wanted to get you out of there, he didn't want you to have any more contact with his father, any more dialogue would ruin you, and he didn't want to take that risk. At this point, he was too considerate of you to make you submit to an unpleasant conversation with his father.

Slowly, he looked behind him, trying to figure out some way to get past his father without him stopping you both in your tracks, but his position was extremely strategic, making it impossible to slip through unnoticed.

“God.” He whispered to himself.

You stared at him determinedly. “Jungkook, it’s okay. Come on, just forget it.”

Giving one last check on the status of your clothes, you let out a long sigh and began your brisk walk towards Jun-Yeol. And before you could go even further, Jungkook reached out and grabbed you lightly by the waist, stopping you midway. He heard a sound of protest leaving your lips, but he couldn't even laugh at the situation.

“Wait. Wait. Wait…” He hurried. “Just…”

A long sigh escaped the depths of his lungs.

“Don’t– Don’t take anything he says personally.”

You frowned at him. God, his father must be the biggest asshole in the world.

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” He still had hope that you would give up on going to his father.

It wasn’t his intention to scare you, but he didn't want you to be taken by surprise when his father started dumping all his inconveniences on you. Jungkook had a very strange and unusual sense of protection over you.

You were still looking at him suspiciously. “Okay… Shall we?”

And there went another moment of you being the coldest, most passive person in the world and scaring him as usual. 

He raised an eyebrow at you, trying to disguise his mood. If you were so calm maybe it would be better not to infect you with his pessimism.

Feeling extremely defeated, Jungkook walked after you. It was a mixture of defeat and bad luck, he couldn't believe his father had actually shown up to college, and on the day he was with you. He could have seen him with anyone but you.

It was only a few feet away, but they were extremely torturous feet.

As you approached, his father had his back turned, he seemed to be entertained by something he had seen in the courtyard. Delaying each moment, Jungkook cleared his throat slowly, drawing his attention.

“Dad.” Jungkook nodded.

“Oh.” Jun-Yeol turned away in a slightly more malleable mood. “Jungkook! There you are! Much more presentable.”

Quickly his father's arms wrapped him in a hug, startling him. He was expecting to receive a scolding, a scowl, even a curse, but his father, one of the most insensitive men he'd ever met, was hugging him.

He thought maybe he wanted to impress you, pretend he was a good father, but considering the situation he'd caught the two of them in, it didn't make sense to keep the polite line around you.

Then he thought he was being sarcastic and teasing him, as if he knew he couldn’t be rude with him in front of you.

Many theories circulated in his head while his father ceased the hug.

“I was waiting you’d return my phone calls with any kind of news, but since you didn’t call me back, I came to pick up the news in person.” Jun-Yeol said in a teasing tone.

Jungkook mentally scoffed. There he was, the nasty, sneaky figure of his father.

“I’ve been busy.” Jungkook replied monosyllabically.

His father let out a weak laugh as he regarded him with a certain degree of disdain. “I could see it. Very busy indeed.”

Two minutes in his presence and Jungkook already felt suffocated. A lot of sarcastic answers came to his mind, but he didn't want to cause an unnecessary misunderstanding at the very beginning of the conversation, especially with you being there.

“Dad, this is Y/N. A friend of mine.” He pointed at you, who maintained a calm expression.

“Friend? Is that what you young people call it these days?” His reply came quickly and in a disapproving tone. 

Jun-Yeol turned to greet you. Jungkook watched the scene with some surprise. You were a lot like his father when it came to not giving in. You were both very stubborn, so watching you maintain a confident expression in the face of the unyielding figure who was his father was charming.

“Y/N?” He wondered. His fingers were pointed up just like a true politician, his face was confident, and he wore a smug smile. “You’re not…”, he turned slightly to Jungkook. “What was her name again? Your other girlfriend? Seungi, Sungi?”

Instinctively, you parted your lips, your eyes were widened, and your vision met Jungkook’s. It was not your intention to demonstrate that the information somehow “shocked” you. All this time teasing him that Seulgi was his girlfriend, even though you didn’t really believe it, for his father to say it like it was the most well-known truth in the world.

These are the kind of things that made hard to believe the words that came out of Jungkook at his house the other day. But then again, you weren’t an idiot, clearly his father really likes to get under his son’s skin.

Not so suddenly, the air seemed to be sucked from Jungkook’s nostrils. His body stiffened; his posture straightened. How he hated this behavior, this kind of little game that his dad loved, he could have asked that later, of course he could, but he had this need to embarrass him.

Hesitantly and with an irritated face, Jungkook raised his voice just enough for his father to hear. “Seulgi. And she was not my girlfriend.”

“Of course.” He mocked. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.” 

Jun-Yeol subtly stole your left hand for himself and placed a quick kiss on your knuckles.

“Likewise, Sir.” You were quick to respond.

“Oh, don’t make me feel old. You can call me Jun-Yeol, please.” 

“Jun-Yeol.” You nodded, repeating the name on your lips, testing it.

He raised an eyebrow at his son. “Even more polite, beautiful. What a nice upgrade, son.”

An annoyed sigh escaped Jungkook's lips, and he glanced over his brow at you. You both exchanged a slight smile, and Jungkook was once again surprised by your coldness. You’d just been caught in a less than ideal situation for a college, the man in front of you had just “confused” you for Seulgi and was being a complete idiot, and you still stood your ground.

As soon as he let go of your hand, Jun-Yeol hurried on, not giving Jungkook room to end with that torture soon. “Anyway, I was here thinking about taking the two of you out for lunch.”

Jungkook scoffed to himself in disbelief. 

Immediately he turned to you, moving even closer to you. “Oh, I’m afraid Y/N has class now, right?”

Looking at you, Jungkook was met with a priceless reaction. You were still looked self-assured, but there was an indecision present in your next action, which caused your entire body to behave in a way he had never seen before. 

You could easily see that Jungkook hated being in the presence of his dad, he was so uncomfortable. Maybe if you were to accept that lunch, his dad wouldn’t have much chance to bother his son, at least not this time around. Wait, why do you even care?

Your eyes were still slightly wide from his father's mention of Seulgi, your lips pressed together tightly, your hands began to rub together anxiously, and the air you were breathing in felt heavy, so loud was the sound coming out of your nostrils.

You were undecided. Even late, you could still get into second class if you wanted to, but something about you showed that you were curious to find out more about his father and have lunch with the two of them together.

“I think it’s okay... I’m... already late. I can- can skip it.”

Lie. 

Why were you lying? You hated skipping classes, you'd talked about it before, seen it. Jungkook wanted to question you right there, but that would put even more pressure on you. He didn't need an answer, but he wanted one.

Before he could even persuade you to drop the idea, his father intervened.

“Marvelous. I'll be waiting for you two at that restaurant near your house, son.”

You smiled politely at his father.

His voice was so convincing, irritating, that Jungkook had to struggle not to roll his eyes right there in front of him.

Lately, God and all the celestial stars had been testing his patience. It wouldn’t be a lie if he said that since he’d crossed paths with you, his life had been extremely turmoil, and not always in a good way. 

It seemed that everything about you tormented him: you had met just about every important person in his life, his friends were now your friends, and all his thoughts had your name, your scent, your texture.

Jungkook pursed his lips, holding back every curse that came to mind.

He approached you, feeling defeated. “You don’t have to go.”

“You don’t want me to go?” You took a step forward with a smile.

“Well…” He rebuked. “You just saw it for yourself. Do you really. want to go through this?”

He really cared about your well-being, didn’t want you to spend too much time in his father’s company, hated the idea of you becoming intimate with him, it was dangerous, toxic. Even he couldn’t handle his father himself.

At those specific moments Jungkook missed his mother even more. He hadn’t met her, but he was sure his father would be a more tolerable person if she were still here. From the things he tells him, she was an amazing human being.

“He’s certainly something.” You said wryly, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Trust me, it will be over sooner than you think.”

Jungkook smiled as he watched your mock. You were so carefree he could barely remember why you were arguing ten minutes ago. 

That was your problem. You fought, had sex, then fought again, then got together, it was a vicious cycle, an unhealthy cycle, he was aware of that. Both of you were aware. It wasn’t supposed to get this complicated. 

He could say that he enjoyed it, but more and more he felt incapable, weak within this cycle. Seeing you there having fun was good, it made him feel light, made him believe that things in life could be good. However, when he remembered that you had “rejected” him, everything went gray, his mood brutally declined, it wasn’t supposed to be like this, it was just a rejection.

He was feeling a sense of anticipation, realization. 

It was weird, new, he had never been in love with anyone. Not that he was now. Well, he didn’t know how that feeling acted on the human body, didn’t even know if what he was feeling was love. He felt good when he was with you, and he hated to think that you most likely didn’t feel the same way. It was hard to decipher whatever was going through your mind.

And it wasn’t something to think about now.

“Shall we?” You said, already walking towards the parking lot.

Like an obedient servant, he followed you in silence, not daring to challenge you anymore.

The drive to the restaurant was smooth, calm, certainly different from the conversational tone he and you had been having a few minutes ago. When Jungkook parked in front of the place, his eyes caught the figure of his father seated at the first table of the restaurant, right at the entrance. He quickly turned away to look at you, who offered him a knowing smile.

Jungkook felt his breath hitch, his throat itched.

God, this was going to be the longest lunch of his life.

“Are there any topics I shouldn’t bring up?” You said as you walked to the table.

A wry laugh escaped his lips. “Don’t worry. He will speak for you.”

It was kinda cute that you were worried about what to say to his father, as if he wasn’t the most unpleasant person you’d ever met. In this you were certainly better than Seulgi. He remembered when his father had caught him in bed with her, under those very circumstances: invading his personal space without any fuss.

Slowly, he realized that this situation could have been much worse. He could have shown up at his house when you were there, or in the library. Heaven forbid, there were so many worst-case scenarios that Jungkook was starting to feel slightly better.

“Still driving at that slow pace, son?”

These were Jun-Yeol’s first words when he saw Jungkook coming to the table.

“Yep.” He responded by sitting up, ignoring the sarcasm.

He would be superior, he would not discuss useless things, he would not fall for his trials. On the brief walk to the table, he’d decided he’d be better than his father, at least once in his life. There was nothing that would take away his peace, nothing.

He could try to get him into an argument, but Jungkook was willing to win this lunch.

Sitting beside him, with you in front of him, Jungkook stretched out his legs to meet yours under the table. 

He saw you hold back a laugh and for a moment allowed himself to relax.

“I think we should already order. Has Jungkook brought you here before, Y/N?” Jun-Yeol’s eyes were fixed on the menu, and before you could even formulate a response, his voice dropped to cruelty. “Oh, no, I confused you with Seulgi again. My apologies.”

My God, this man is really a snake. Now you get why Jungkook told you before not to take anything his dad says personally.

Jungkook turned quickly to him, swallowing hard. “Dad.” 

He scolded him on the spot. However, his father's carefree expression didn’t reassure him about the rest of lunch. He didn’t know if his father was testing him or if it had been an unintentional slip-up.

“It’s okay.” You tilted your head slightly, your gaze flicking between Jungkook and his father. You cleared your throat, and continued with a smile that Jungkook could have sworn was one of the fakest he’d ever seen. “I’ve never been here, but I think this Caesar salad looks pretty good.”

Jun-Yeol choked in false surprise. “Oh, you even have good taste in food. How you got it right this time, Jungkook!”

A unison of laughter formed at the table and Jungkook couldn’t help but roll his eyes this time. 

It irritated him the way he spoke, as if he and Seulgi had been interacting for hours and he’d really gotten to know her. He’d seen her in bed with him, then had a quick breakfast in his kitchen, nothing more.

Yes, he knew you were infinitely better than Seulgi, it was obvious. You had everything, you were beautiful, intelligent, and appeared to be a much kinder human being. But all that mention of Seulgi, comparing them, made him more and more anxious.

Without even looking at his son, Jun-Yeol held up one of his hands, excitedly calling for a waiter to serve him.

“I’d like two Caesar salads, please. And…, Jungkook?”

“A burger, please.” His voice was as low as a breath.

Hearing a long, disappointed sigh from his father, Jungkook and you looked at each other.

Really? He can’t even choose a food without his father judging him.

You were biting your lips with a certain violence; your eyebrows were slightly arched. You looked so understanding there, your eyes seemed to sink into his thoughts, it was as if at any moment you could start to speak what was on his mind.

Once again, he saw how superior you were to him. You were dealing with all that bullshit a lot more resiliently than he was. You didn’t seem nervous, intimidated, much less bothered by his father’s conversation, although he imagined you were, you were just too good at hiding it.

You smoothed his leg with yours under the table, catching his attention again. “U okay?” You whispered, almost incomprehensible.

He nodded slightly at you. There was no reason to tell the truth at that moment.

“So, Y/N, what do you study?” Jun-Yeol called out, startling you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see that Jungkook had leaned back in his chair, wanting to ignore all the dialogue that was about to ensue.

“Classical Literature.” Your tone was so excited that you even looked surprised at yourself.

Jungkook smiled to see you speak so proudly.

“Oh, that’s amazing. It is definitely an interesting degree.”

“I love it! It kind of brings together all the things I like, literature, myths, and a little bit of teaching.” Your voice was strangely high-pitched.

“Teaching?” Jun-Yeol leaned across the table, showing interest. “Do you plan to be a teacher?”

At that moment, Jungkook leaned back slightly from his chair. It was a topic that even he wasn’t aware of, and for various reasons he still couldn’t explain to himself, he was interested in your future plans.

“I think so. I- I don’t know, I haven’t given it much thought, but it would be nice.”

Your eyes strayed to Jungkook, who was raising his eyebrows, just waiting for you to look at him.

“You would make a great teacher.” He confessed, smiling.

Your eyes narrowed as a smile filled almost the entire lower part of your face. You were genuinely happy for the compliment, and Jungkook was finding it quite a show to watch you happy. There you were, not the Y/N who had rejected him, who was playing games with him, you were just Y/N, a happy, beautiful, girl.

“Thank you…”

Before he could even relax into his chair again, another topic he also knew almost nothing about came up.

“And you were born here in Seoul?” Jun-Yeol amended.

Before answering him, you arched an eyebrow at Jungkook, making a point of showing that you had sensed his interest in the conversation. “No, I’m actually from Y/C/N.”

He watched, waiting for you to break eye contact first. Luckily for him, his father’s words caught your attention.

“Y/C/N.” He tested the word. “I heard it’s a great place to live too.”

By the end of that sentence, Jungkook couldn’t hold back the laughter that rose in his chest. It was as if he was considering whether that country would be a good place for his son to live with you.

It was pathetic, and funny.

The waiter interrupted you with a three-course tray, and Jungkook mentally thanked for the speed of the establishment. The faster you ate, the faster this torture would end, and he could walk away. He knew he would have to face his father at some point, as he always did, but at least you wouldn’t have to go through more shit.

“Did your parents move here too?” 

You choked, putting your cutlery down. Immediately, Jungkook looked at you, your eyes were slightly wide, your mouth was slightly open. For the first time since the moment this encounter had begun, you looked unsure.

He remembered that the last time you both “talked” about this subject, you had briefly mentioned that you hadn’t grown up with your parents. You had no reason for that topic to make you so nervous. Or at least that was what Jungkook thought.

These were the kind of conversations that you always avoided. There were really few people that you would open up to. It wasn’t like there was something to hide – although there was one thing that you didn’t tell Jungkook last time you talked about your family -, you just didn’t like sharing some of your personal matters.

You weren’t used to it and you had armed yourself for quite some time to avoid attaching to people, it wasn’t going to be easy for you to put your guard down and start spilling all your life to anyone.

Your loud breathing took over the table. “Ah, no... Ehr... I grew up in Seoul with my aunt, and my mother– she… stayed in Y/C/N.”

So far, the details Jungkook knew about your parents matched what you had told him. Nothing new. But he wanted to understand the reason for your nervousness, your face was serious, even your posture had stiffened.

“And your father?” Jun-Yeol continued his interrogation.

And that’s when he finally managed to understand.

You craned your neck, smiling nervously. “Ah… he died. I– I actually… didn’t meet him.”

Jungkook wished he had better disguised his reaction when he finished listening to the words that came out of your mouth. He was feeling, somehow, betrayed. He knew it was a selfish feeling to feel, that it wasn’t his right to feel this way, but a strange sense of bitterness filled him.

This wasn’t the way he’d expected to know this sort of thing, you could have talked it over with him, or at least mentioned it. Did you not trust him enough to open up about this topic?

He never wanted to go into details about his mother because he didn’t feel comfortable, but in the few moments when the subject came up, his body practically begged him to open up. It was a sense of urgency that always felt right, like you were the right person to listen to him.

The fact that you had never commented anything about your father, not a single mention, made him feel uncomfortable, insufficient. He expected you to feel like he did, tempted to open up, to be vulnerable, but you, on the contrary, never showed any kind of weakness in the matter. You were so good hiding your feelings. He never suspected that one of your parents had died.

That topic was, most likely, the most common thing you both had together. The frailty, growing up without a father/mother figure, all the agony during the commemorative dates, you could have shared so much together. You could have spent hours talking about it, helping each other, healing each other. 

God, how betrayed he felt. Even when it was selfish of him to expect for you to open up to something this deep for you, he couldn’t help to feel once again that he wasn’t enough. Ugh, the insecurities were playing with his mind.

Jungkook forced himself to swallow the bite of snack stuck in his mouth. He needed to force himself to look away, to act casual, but he just couldn’t. His body was restless in the chair, and the noise his movements made practically announced his discomfort.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” His father said casually. “You’re just like Jungkook, but with his mother, of course.”

Immediately, Jungkook thought he was in hell, he just hadn’t been formally warned of it.

You remained silent but your eyes were restless. They couldn’t keep their focus on one thing, wavering between his father, the salad in front of you, and him. You looked at him with compassion, as if he were a stray dog, it was a terribly disturbing look to him.

He hated to think that you were feeling sorry for him.

“Haerin was an amazing woman, she would have loved to meet you.” Jun-Yeol continued.

“Can we not talk about this?” His voice came out loud, startling the man beside him.

Jun-Yeol chuckled weakly, his self-centered posture did not allow him to face his son. Instead, he leaned his elbows on the table, and bent his head to get closer to you. “Well, truth be told, she’d love to receive you at home with a big lunch or dinner. And the two of you would definitely talk about literature, she loved to read.”

A loud scoff escaped Jungkook’s lips. He looked up at his father. “Please.”

You swallowed hard watching the scene. It was one of the first times you’d seen Jungkook say a “please” so pleadingly and not just out of politeness. You saw his jaw clench, and his fingers tightened even further on the snack in his hand.

“What’s the matter, Jungkook? People die, we get over it and we keep living with it.” His father snapped back angrily.

Keep living with it? Sounds quite insensitive for me.

You curled up in your chair, were about to witness a real fight between Jeon Jungkook and his father. It wasn’t something you were expecting to happen, but it was definitely something you were curious about.

“I’m begging you.” One of Jungkook’s fists hit the table almost unintentionally.

Jun-Yeol leaned back in his chair, slovenly. “Okay, that’s fine. But don’t pretend you are respecting her memory.” His tone was assured, utterly provocative. “Or what? Do you think she’s proud of you now? The way you’ve been acting?”

An inaudible “oh” escaped your lips as your eyes widened.

This is so fucked up.

Jungkook stood up abruptly, pushing the chair away. “That’s enough.”

His body stiffened, his posture was painfully straight, and his fists were clenched. You stared at him scared and could have sworn that if that wasn’t his own father, they would be grappling on the floor.

It was a Jungkook you’d never seen, not even when he’d quarreled with Jimin. The vein in his neck was standing out, flashy, and you could see the effort it was taking for him to rebel against his father.

“Jungkook, sit down.” Jun-Yeol said slowly, not as a threat, but as an order.

You saw his body bow slightly, as if Jun-Yeol’s words had real control over his actions. Jungkook’s face contorted in something akin to pain. He was trying hard not to sit down.

He gasped loudly and finally snapped out of that kind of trance that had left him almost paralyzed. His feet moved off the table, and his eyes searched desperately for your figure.

“Shall we? I can take you home now.” 

You knew it wasn’t a suggestion; it was a plea.

Again, your eyes darted frantically to the two men in front of you. Jun-Yeol kept a calm expression, as if he knew he was bothering his son, that he was in control of the situation; and Jungkook had his brows arched, practically kneeling for you to get up and follow him.

You choked, dropping the silverware next to the rest of your salad. In your mind your movements had been faster, but it took you a long time to get to your feet and finally nod at Jungkook’s request.

“I’ll see you at your home. And it was a pleasure to meet you, Y/N.” Jun-Yeol’s voice echoed in the back of his mind.

Jungkook saw your lips tighten in an attempt to answer a simple “likewise”, but no sound came out. So, you simply nodded at him with a small smile on your lips.

When his feet finally stepped outside the restaurant, Jungkook allowed himself to take a deep breath without guilt for the first time since meeting his father. He could hear your hurried footsteps beside him as you tried to keep up with him.

“I can take you to eat somewhere else if you’re still hungry.” He said low.

“I’m fine.”

He didn’t dare look at you. He was feeling embarrassed after that “scene” with his father.

When he got into the car, his hands were shaking, and his feet took a while to grip the pedals. His breathing was loud, and to his unhappiness, you were completely silent, making the sounds of his nervous body stand out even more.

“Are you okay?” You finally spoke, your voice now music to his ears.

He avoided answering you. He was far from “okay”, and he was sure his voice would fail the moment he decided to start talking. The silence lasted a long time, but not long enough to reach your apartment.

“Jungkook,” You placed one of your hands just above his knee.

His body stiffened and he cursed himself for it, because you sure as hell had noticed. The air seemed to have been sucked out of his breath. You wanted him to look at you, you weren’t going to continue your sentence if he didn’t look at you, but still he kept his eyes fixed on the street in front of you.

When he parked in front of your building, he didn’t wait for you to say goodbye. Immediately, he got out of the car, seeing you get slightly confused.

You got out of the car and looked at him smiling. “What are you doing?”

“Taking you home.” His answer came out humorously.

Amazing how your presence alone did him good, even with all the arguments you had, you had this power to bring out the best in him. He was still a nervous wreck over his father, but a little time alone with you already made him light, light in a way that even worried him.

“You don’t have to.” You laughed, heading towards him.

“I insist.”

The elevator ride to your floor was complete silence. Leaning against opposite walls, you faced each other, competing for who had the worst grin on their face. Being in such a small, closed cubicle with you was a nightmare for Jungkook. The scent of your perfume filled the entire space, and he felt even more helpless around you.

As the doors opened on the seventh floor, he mentally thanked God.

“Seventy six?” He took a chance.

“Seven.” You teased. “Did you come all this way just to find out which apartment I live in?”

You approached the door but made no move to open it. You leaned against the doorframe, pursing your lips while staring at him. You stared at each other for a long time in silence, as if talking mentally. Your face showed resilience while his showed a mixture of confusion and regret.

Jungkook braced a hand against the door. “I’m so sorry.” His voice came out weak, not as confident as he wished.

What is he apologizing for?

You opened your mouth in mild astonishment. “You are not your father, Jungkook. You don’t need to apologize to me.”

“No, it’s not just about that.” He promptly replied, almost interrupting you. “Earlier, I was not– I…– that wasn’t very manly of me.”

He was referring to the scene before his father interrupted you in college.

A little scoff escaped your lips. You didn’t seem to believe he was apologizing for that.

“It was a line we crossed together. I kissed you back, didn’t I?” You had a smug little smile on your face, your head tilted slightly next to his outstretched arm.

Always superior to him.

Jungkook let out a long weary sigh. He was feeling more and more lost about you, his head hurt just thinking about getting home and talking to his father, college seemed interminable, and he felt more distant from his friends, he was living a horrible period.

“I hope you know you are better than the things he says.” You said softly.

“Am I?” His face came slightly closer to yours.

When he saw you nod, he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his lips.

Might be the first time he hears a compliment coming out of your mouth and he’s enjoying it so much. His body was still for a while, his eyes studying your face. You were really one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, and he couldn’t tell if it was just your looks, or if your mature demeanor influenced that view.

More and more he understood you less, he thought that with time he would be able to decipher you, read you, but things became more confused, nebulous. You had said you were with him for the sex, but all your kindness with him at times when you didn't need to be kind left him questioning whether or not you cared for him.

One thing he had realized, had been almost forced to realize: he liked you.

He felt good with you, craved your company. In college he looked for your face, even if it was just for you to curse at him; at home he missed the way you just fit into his bed; parties had lost interest because he wasn't looking for someone anymore, he kind of already had someone.

“Jungkook–” Your voice woke him.

“You’re not gonna invite me in?” He cut you, roughly.

Prev | Next

⏤ author's note❧ FYI, the "Y/C/N acronym stands for 'Your Country Name'. Long chapter once again! 😄 Sorry for making you wait for updates guys, I really want to make this story worthy so I might take some more time to write the next few chapters in order to do that so. Please, don't hesitate on leaving your feedback, reblog, send me asks, whatever you'd like. I absolute love reading your comments 💜🥰

⏤ tag list❧ @chimsworldsstuff @erica2283 @ahgasegotarmy116 @whoa-jo

[bejeweledreverie]

Where The Ocean Waves Met My Anxious Heart And Your Strong Embrace

wc: around 1.5k

warnings: reader almost drowning (as a flashback), mentions of fear of death, panic attack, written in 1st person, english is not my first language, ooc rafe?, fluff, not fully proofread

a/n: AAAA my first fic and i am not sure how to feel about it. truly hope it makes sense. comment if you want to be added to the taglist for future fics (ideally would love to put out one fic every week but we'll see how that goes ;-; )!! if you liked this, please comment and reblog <333

p.s. can't decide if the title fits this at all

~

I never liked him. In fact, I want to gag anytime the name ‘Rafe Cameron’ leaves someone's mouth. He had somehow (unsurprisingly) lived up to his title in the Outer Banks, the Kook Prince. An arrogant and cocky asshole was all that he was to me.

I never really cared about the whole Pogues and Kooks thing. I was friends with both, in fact Kie, Pope, John B and JJ were some of my closest friends. Just because I live in Figure Eight, doesn’t make me better than those who live on the Cut. That is what my parents always taught me, since both of them also used to be Pogues.

But I was never gonna live it down when it came to the eldest Cameron offspring. He always calls me ‘the rip-off Kook’.

Sarah and I have been best friends since forever, but I never got along with Rafe. Ever. Even when we were kids, he always annoyed me, trying and often succeeding at pissing me off or upsetting me. 

You would think that we would’ve grown out of our childish antics as time went on, but it only got worse. We could never pass each other without sending glares or saying snarky remarks.

It’s a Friday night in late June. My family and I are at Cameron's for our annual summer barbecue. 

I had left my camera there a couple days prior after a sleepover with Sarah. As always, I was tasked to document the gathering, so I went inside to look for it.

And that is why I found myself in Rafe’s room, looking for my camera, that Sarah had left there for some unknown reason to me.

I had been in there a couple times before, but I never had the chance to check it out completely.

I was surprised to find the wall behind his bed covered in photos. Was he also into photography?

My eyes drifted to the window that overlooked the front yard of Tannyhill. 

There was soft music playing, as our families were conversing, sipping on wine and enjoying the food. My need to capture this moment became unignorable. But as I turned to grab my camera from his desk, I saw Rafe standing behind me. I flinch from his presence.

“Jesus, can you not creep upon people like that?” I say.

“Didn’t mean to scare you, sweetheart,” he answers, a lazy smirk on his lips.

I roll my eyes at the nickname, turning back to the window.

“What are you doing in my room, Y/L/N?” he asks, as he moves to stand next to me.

“Came to get this,” I picked up the camera from the desk and prepared to snap the photo I was planning on taking before Rafe interrupted me.

“I find it hard to believe that you only came to take your camera, you wanted to snoop and find something to blackmail me with,” he says, jokingly accusing me with a smirk on his face.

“Oh Cameron, I have known you for over a decade, pretty sure I have enough dirt on you as it is,” I laugh slightly, as I adjust the camera settings.

“Really, because in all these years you have never used it on me.” 

“Knowledge is power, Rafael. Don’t expect me to play all of my cards out at once,” I say, zooming in a little bit on the party in the yard.

Once I’m finished taking the photos, I turn to Rafe, finding him already staring at me. I’m used to receiving glares from him, but this time his eyes held something else. An emotion I can’t describe. His gaze was intense.

Feeling a little uncomfortable, I turned to look at the photo covered wall.

“I didn’t know you were into photography,” I say, absentmindedly admiring each photo.

Rafe looks down at his shoes, nervously scratching the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I, uh, always wanted to try it and I ended up liking it a lot.”

My eyes settle on one particular photo. It’s a photo of the ocean, which appears to be right before the storm.

I look at the date in the bottom right corner and my body freezes. 

I can feel the water filling my lungs and I can hear the storm again. The fear of death clouds my brain. 

All of a sudden I’m hiccuping for breaths and I feel my legs give out.

…

It was supposed to be a stupid dare, but my stubbornness knows no boundaries. 

When JJ jokingly challenged me to surf in the storm, I should’ve just laughed it off, but I didn’t.

Everything was going well, until the wave threw me off the board and I was pushed underwater.

The storm had gotten stronger, so did the waves, and I could barely breathe in when I came up, as another wave pushed me below the surface. Safe to say I was drowning. 

I was so scared, but I couldn’t scream out for help. My limbs were burning from trying to stay above water and slowly I gave in. 

Suddenly, I felt strong arms wrap around me and attempt to pull me out.

Then it all went black.

…

I felt Rafe’s arms wrap around me to keep me from falling as I choked out a sob. It was like I was experiencing that day all over again. I couldn’t breathe properly and I was shaking like crazy.

“Hey, Y/N, hey! Look at me. You’re safe, you’re not in the water. Just breathe.”

His proximity, my almost drowning, it was too much for me. I tried to wriggle out his grip, failing, as his arms around me only tightened.

“It’s okay, you are safe. I am here.”

I finally let myself collapse into him, sobbing into his chest. He started to rub my back soothingly, while whispering sweet nothings into my ear.

The blurry images of the waves crashing still flooded my brain.

“I thought I was gonna die,” I sobbed

His arms only tightened around me hearing that sentence.

Once I was calm enough, I pulled away slightly. Rafe was already staring at me, and once again, I couldn’t describe the emotion behind his eyes. Was it pityness? Worry? Or was it care?

No, there is no way he cares about me. We hate each other. Right?

I find myself staring back into his captivating blue eyes.

And then the puzzle pieces start falling into place.

“You saved me that day,” I state, my eyes widening with the realization.

Rafe looks away, his hold on me loosening. 

Oh my god. That’s why he knew what my panic attack was about. That’s why after the accident he didn’t talk to me for weeks. Does he actually care about me?

“Rafe, why did you never tell me?” I ask, my hand on his jaw, turning his head so he looks at me.

He sighs, before getting up and walking towards his photo covered wall. He takes off the picture of the ocean from the wall and gestures to me to sit on his bed. 

“I, uh,” he starts nervously, “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want things to change between us."

I sat down in front of him, waiting for him to elaborate, nervous as to where this was going.

“Y/N, no matter what happened, you were always there to call me out on my bullshit, whether that was treating my sister poorly or bullying others. You always knew how to put me in my place and I didn’t want that to change.” 

I look at him, surprised. 

The boy who pulled on my braids in elementary school, the boy who knew which buttons to push to annoy me, that same boy was now sitting in front of me telling me that I am the only thing in his life that he can count on.

He worriedly flips the photo to the other side and hands it to me. I take it and look at the writing on the back of it.

Once I read it, it didn’t take long for our lips to meet for a gentle kiss that is filled with years of pent up emotions and feelings that we didn’t know were there.

His hands are gently cupping my face, as if he was afraid I would break.

When we break apart, a little breathless and dizzy, I once again look at the inscription of the photo and I know that I have never been so sure about something in my life before. Somehow everything that had happened over the last 10 years made perfect sense. And even the accident made sense, because without it, we wouldn’t be here right now smiling shyly at each other.

On the back of the photo, in squiggly handwriting, were written 6 words.

The day I almost lost her.

~

@winterrrnight @h34rtsformilli

[daistea]

i have a very unsubstantiated suspicion that mithrun was young, around 80s, when he got drafted to the canaries

1. we know pattadol is that age and that's legal age, implying that they take anyone who reaches the age of majority - possibly even younger given that pattadol is a middle child and still wondered why she was the one chosen out of the three. she never mentions her younger sister being too young or anything. but I think we can still take 80 as a ballpark estimate

2. going with 80 as an estimate, I think it's interesting that the three guards with canon ages from mithrun's generation of the draft are all so close to being the same age (mithrun, milsiril, flamela). we know elves have a pretty low birth rate and very long lifespans. what's the chance that three from the same draft happened to be the same age, unless they all reached the age requirement around the same time and got sent off? (side note: flamela wasn't drafted, she joined willingly but she seems to be from that generation since she replaced milsiril as vice captain. if her twin sister died very young and she joined as soon as she could, she probably had to wait for age eligibility as well)

3. the pre dungeon shenanigans with mithrun and milsiril? so NOT 30 year old behavior. that is high school mean girl clique bullshit. either they were young when all of that happened or they never grew up properly from the stress of getting sent away young

i don't know if i'm being subconsciously influenced by how the military works where I live, which is that mandatory service starts the year you turn 18 (or 19 depending on what type of school you go to), but in my brain they all join up fairly young

I think for Pattadol at least, it’s implied that her parents sent her instead of her older or younger sister just to get rid of her LOL

If Mithrun joined around 80, then became a dungeon lord around 140-ish, that would mean he’d have been a canary for 60 years. Time moves differently for elves so I mean 60 years in the canaries may only feel like a decade or two to him?? And even then like a decade prob isn’t a large amount of time for elves either.

I want to agree because why wouldn’t the canaries draft Mithrun right as he turned 18? Why would they wait until he was older? He didn’t join willingly. However….

Pattadol’s thing implies that it wasn’t a ‘this noble family’s child is 80 now lol!! Time For War’ but rather a ‘hey send us one of your kids, we don’t care which one’ kinda situation

The manga mentions that he had to join in his brother’s place, and most of the nobility are presented by their families as a show of loyalty. Sooo his parents were all ‘let’s send the bastard child instead lol’

But he also was sent instead because his brother was so frail. It’s a mix of those two factors i believe. Both his parents being dicks and his brother being too weak.

ANYWAY it makes sense for him to be drafted/volunteered right as he turned 80. So it’s completely possible! But it’s also hard for me to imagine him being in the canaries for so long before becoming a dungeon lord…. If he’d been a canary for that long wouldn’t he know what a demon is and the dangers of becoming a dungeon lord? Or was he just too far gone and too arrogant and too overcome with emotion to care at the time?

Idk 🤷‍♀️

Love u patty, queen of coping

[cod-dump]

John “thinks he’s unlovable and people merely tolerate him” Soap Mactavish; is unconvinced when Gaz tells him that he is Ghost’s favorite on their team. Vehemently denies it. He’d love for it to be true, but knows in his heart that it isn’t.

Gotta love that sweet, sweet low self-esteem that makes that sweet angst

___

A Bit Too Much

Angst below the cut

___

Growing up Soap was described as “a bit too much”. By his parents, siblings, the kids at school— He just accepted that’s what he was. “A bit too much”. As he grew, he tried different things to deal with this. Not engaging with people was his first approach. Then when people started saying “too quiet” he changed things up.

“A bit too much”, “Too quiet”, “Tries too hard”, “Thinks he’s too good for us”, “Bipolar freak”—

So he gave up. He put up a front full of confidence. This became the persona everyone knew. This was Soap, that’s how he was. Brave, facing the world with a grin and a smug comment. But even though Soap lived the persona so long, he was constantly reminded that, well, he was too much. Too friendly, too arrogant. He talked back, stuck his neck out. And when he got those looks from everyone… Well, it took everything he had to not let his mask crack.

When he joined 141 and met Ghost, he smiled and continued the act. The confidence, the know-it-all attitude. That glare from Ghost almost made him break. But he kept going. He proved himself to be a valuable member of 141. He earned his mark. When Ghost started to tone down the aggression, Soap simply told himself the man was trying to be nice considering they were going to be working together for the unforeseeable future. He had to be nice so they could work together smoothly.

The jokes were odd but considering how dark some were Soap took them as Ghost trying to remind him of Ghost’s reputation. Then the shoulder pats after a job well done— Those were always done in front of others. Ghost couldn’t show people his distaste for Soap.

One evening they were on a mission in a temperate forest. It’s been quite a bit since then so Soap couldn’t really remember why they were there. But they had to camp out there overnight. A fire burning between them, laying on their backs, looking through the trees staring at the stars. The others were passed out, and it was between either Soap or Ghost to keep watch.

“Get some rest, sergeant.”

“Me? You tell me that with those bags under your eyes?”

The chuckle that came from Ghost wasn’t like the dry, forced laughter that he had heard before. It was warm, genuine. Soap couldn’t remember the last time he heard someone laugh like that in response to something he said/done.

He’s tired, probably thinks a knock knock joke would be hilarious.

Soap insisted he would take watch and Ghost looked at him with unreadable eyes before agreeing. Probably didn’t want to bother arguing with him considering how stubborn and insufferable Soap could be. Soap knows how he is, he remembers his mother telling him that several times before he finally joined the military.

Since then, Soap would think about how Ghost looked that night. Though he was in gear, same skull mask and balaclava, faded black grease around the eyes. He looked so- so—

Soap had a bad habit of becoming obsessive when he finds a person that he likes. Someone who he genuinely loves to be around. Past girlfriends and boyfriends and friends in general called him “clingy” and some said he would stalk them. He never tried to make them uncomfortable, but when he finds that person who brightened his day just by him seeing them… He tried to be around them as much as possible. But he would be constantly reminded of how weirded out people were by that.

But Ghost didn’t give him the same signs that he was crossing the line like those in the past. Wasn’t told to back away, stop talking for moment, just leave him alone for fuck’s sake. Soap tried to give Ghost his space, watched what he said, and leave him alone as often as possible. He wasn’t sure why this man was so patient with him. His own parents never gave him this kind of tolerance. Soap wondered if Ghost, despite his reputation, was a lot nicer then what people made him out to be.

So after deeming that Ghost was too nice to tell him to fuck off, Soap decided to avoid him. The first couple of days, if Soap saw Ghost in the hall or in the room he entered, he had to remind himself to leave him alone. The man needed a break. After a week and a half he got used to the lack of companionship (though he knows Ghost was loving the change). After three weeks Soap found company elsewhere.

He would pick random recruits to annoy for a day then leave them alone. Sometimes he annoyed Price because the captain had some actually funny facial expressions and if Soap said something off putting, Price would let him know without any words. But he tried to leave Price alone as much as possible. He didn’t want to wear him out like he did Ghost.

So Gaz became his next target. After the first day of inserting himself into Gaz’s dad-to-day, he would talk about whatever with him. He could say things to Gaz that he couldn’t with recruits or with Price (his judging facial expressions were amusing but did have a impact after a bit). Gaz would engage back, which was a nice change to the hesitant replies from the recruits or the short replies from Price (who was usually working on something when Soap “graced” him with his presence).

He found Gaz in Price’s office filing things away for the man while he was away. He decided to join him, pulling a chair from the corner of the room and sitting next to Gaz. After a minute they started talking about random things. Then Gaz asked him a question.

“Soap, I have to know… did you and Ghost get into a fight or something?”

Soap was doodling on his arm with a marker when Gaz asked this. He looked up with a confused expression, “No?”

“Really? Everyone thought something happened between you two since you’re not hanging out anymore.”

“I left before something did happen,” Soap replied as he returned to doodling.

It was Gaz’s turn to be confused, “What do you mean?”

“C’mon, Garrick. Man was bound to snap givin’ how much I bothered him!”

“Didn’t really look like you were bothering him. He’s been upset since you started avoiding him.”

Soap stops again, the felt tip of the marker presses into his skin. He’s been doing such a good job of avoiding Ghost and giving him his space that he hadn’t noticed how the man reacted to all of this.

“Upset? Sure it’s not been relief?”

He forced a laugh at the end of that statement but Gaz wasn’t laughing back.

“Soap, man is one wrong tone away from ripping someone’s head off. That’s why everyone thinks you two got into a fight. But you just left without any reason?”

Soap stares at Gaz, ���What?”

“Soap… He’s been pissed at the world since his best friend just abandoned him!”

Best friend?

Those words shook Soap to his core. All his previous “best friends” were some poor sods who were a bit too friendly with him and Soap latched onto them, mistaking their tolerance for acceptance. He would notice after being dropped by someone he saw as his best friend that people would refer to them as his victim, not his friend. He never heard anyone referred to as his friend in general, let alone best friend.

“I’m-I’m not- He’s not my best friend. He could barely tolerate me…”

Gaz chose then to laugh, “You’re pulling my leg!”

When Gaz finally stopped laughing and noticed the incredibly confused look on Soap’s face. His smile drops and a grim look takes over.

“You’re not joking, are you?”

Soap shakes his head wordlessly.

“Seriously? You’re like his favorite person out of everyone anywhere. He likes you over Laswell!”

“No he doesn’t-“

“Man, yes he does! Where have you been where you think that you’re not Ghost’s favorite person?”

Soap stands abruptly, “Stop fucking with me, Gaz!”

Gaz flinches, “Soap-“

“Where have I been? Where have you been?! There is no way Ghost likes me- I’m just an annoying fly in his ear.”

Soap was nicknamed “Fly” as a kid by his dad, said he was as annoying and hard to get rid of as the actual insect. When he left for the military and eventually earned the callsign “Soap”, he never thought he would feel relief to be called a cleaning product before.

Soap storms off, leaving Gaz staring at him with concern written across his face. He all but ran out of the base, not caring how many people he almost ran into on his way out. He didn’t care that it was pouring rain or that he didn’t have a jacket on him, just a long sleeved shirt and some joggers on. He absentmindedly pushed his sleeve down on the arm he was doodling on as he walked. It was cold like hell froze over, which would have had to happen for Gaz, anyone, to think that Ghost liked him.

He came to a sewer pipe that they practiced crawling through with gear on to prepare for the field. But for now it was a place to hide. Soap crawled inside, finding it much roomier without twenty/thirty pounds of gear on. He curls up in a fetal position, every bit of his childhood, every moment that led up to him becoming who he was. To the mask that he wore every day. It all flooded over him.

His sisters complaining when he tried to play with them. His mother swatting him when he forgot to stop talking. His father forgetting to pick him up after school. His classmates talking about him behind his back. One of his teachers muttering “Something’s not right with him” as he walked away from her desk. His first boyfriend telling him that he was too clingy and that it was creeping him out. His first “best friend” telling him he was too weird and talked too much.

Once the dam broke he couldn’t stop the tears.

Out of all the cruel things that happened to him throughout the years, this was the cruelest of them all. That brief moment where he actually believed that Ghost liked him. That his laughs were genuine when Soap told a joke. That he actually paid attention when he told a story. That when Soap was excited about something he actually stopped to listen. But none of that was real.

Because Soap was a bit too much for anyone to handle.

[yoon-kooks]

the airdrop incident | myg

🗿pairing: yoongi x reader

🗿genre: fluff, neighbor!au, f2l, childhood friends, best friend's brother

🗿summary: You accidentally AirDrop a racy photo of yourself in strappy lingerie to your hot and arrogant neighbor Min Yoongi.

🗿word count: 1k

a/n: yes this is for yoongi's bday and yes im 471298 years late🥹

An onlooker might be wondering why you’re standing outside your neighbor’s door at ass o’clock in nothing but an oversized tee, but the answer is simple. Mistakes were made. You’re an idiot.

But then he has the audacity to answer the door. “He” as in Min Yoongi, your childhood friend slash nemesis, the older brother of your best friend, or, in the simplest terms, your hot neighbor.

“Yes?” he raises a brow, staring at the way you’re shivering outside his door, the way your perky nipples are most definitely poking through your shirt. You’re sure he sees it all. But given the fact that he’s also seen you practically naked, you don’t even bother covering up. What’s the point?

“Did you, by chance, get an AirDrop like five minutes ago?” you get straight to the point. It’s fucking freezing, after all.

“Depends,” he hums, eyes still very much on your chest. You’re pretty sure he’s dating that pretty brunette you’ve seen sneaking in and out of his house lately, so why’s he looking at you like that? “What was the AirDrop?”

“A picture of me,” you mumble. It was freezing a minute ago, but now your face feels hot. That’s weird.

“Hmm, not sure if the one I’m thinking of is you or not.” The bastard puts on his most exaggerated thinking face—basically the thinking emoji with the hand on his chin. “What were you wearing?”

“Nothing!” you squeak at him. Both of you know no one fucking uses AirDrop except old people. He’s obviously playing dumb and knows what’s going on. He just wants to hear it from your mouth to make his ego bigger than it already is. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“Pretty sure you were wearing something…” he furrows his brow, unlocking his phone to “confirm” what he saw. Like your favorite villain Swiper the Fox, you snatch the phone out of his hand. (He actually just hands it to you, but you like the Dora reference.) “Ah, yes. Black strappy lingerie, right? I didn’t know you were like that, Y/N.”

“Fuck you,” you hiss as you search for the pic in question. AirDrop must have its own stupid section on the phone because you can’t find it anywhere.

“Relax, I already deleted it,” he chuckles. You’re not falling for it. Surely he’s already leaked the photo on OnlyFans. You don’t have a whole lot of faith in Min Yoongi. He’s never been The Nice Guy. “Who were you trying to send it to?”

“None of your business.” He has a girlfriend, after all. Why should he care about who you’re sending those kinds of pics to?

“My sister?”

“Fine. Yes, her.”

“You’re sneaking around sending nudes to my sister? On AirDrop?” he narrows his eyes. Why does he seem more disgusted at the AirDrop part? You’d laugh if you weren’t so stressed. “She’s in a very committed relationship, you know.”

“I’m aware.” You don’t know what’s worse—him thinking you’re hitting on his sister aka your best friend, or admitting the pic was from a photoshoot for your new job. There are no winners here. Might as well come clean. “She requested the pic so she could show support for her lingerie model best friend.”

“My little Y/N grew up and became a lingerie model?” He tilts his head, intrigued. He might’ve deleted the pic from his phone, but you bet the image is still ingrained in that fuckboy head of his. You wonder how his girlfriend feels about him thinking about other girls in that context. You’d feel shitty. “In that case, I’d also like to show support. Mind if you send the pic ag—” 

You cut him off with a growl.

“I kid, I kid.” He waves his hands so you don’t pounce on him. But then something occurs to him. “Wait, so AirDropping it to me wasn’t ‘an accident’?” he asks with air quotes.

“No, it was a real accident, Yoongi,” you scoff. You can’t believe he thought you’d intentionally sent that pic to him. He’s so full of himself.

“Well that’s no fun.”

“Elaborate.”

“It would’ve been kinda cute if you did it to get my attention,” he shrugs. “Just like when we were younger. Remember how you’d always tug on my arm and pout until I acknowledged you?”

“No, but it’s kinda weird that you remember it.” You finally cross your arms in front of your chest. “It’s also kinda weird that you want my attention when that’s what your girlfriend is there for.”

“It’s kinda weird that you keep up with my love life and know I have a girlfriend,” he fires back at you. “I’m breaking up with her, by the way. Just in case you wanted to know.”

You pause the petty war for a second. Min Yoongi is breaking up with his girlfriend because you accidentally sent him one (1) risqué pic of yourself? To be fair, you do look pretty hot in that photo. But still! You’ve known the guy your entire life, and all it’s ever amounted to was banter with a hint of feelings on your end. You’d always assumed Yoongi thought of you as nothing more than his little sister’s friend. Surely he’s just toying with you right now. Because that’s what fuckboys do. 

That’s what Min Yoongis do.

“Good to know,” you nod, the cold breeze coming back. You better leave now before you do something stupid again. Stupid AirDrop. “Well, I’m gonna go now. It’s fucking cold.”

You drop his phone into his palm, your fingers grazing his in the process. They’re so warm. But your fluffy blanket is warmer. And it’d never betray you.

“Thanks for only being a slight dick about the pic,” you say, scurrying off to your doorstep.

“Anytime,” he smirks. Asshole. “I’ll AirDrop you later.”

“I don’t want your dick pics, sir.”

You hear his laugh before closing the door.

A minute later, you get an AirDrop of what you hope is not in fact a dick pic. You accept it immediately.

It’s a blurry selfie of him on his bed, flipping you off with an emphasis on how much extra mattress space he has. That has to be the quickest breakup of all time. They don’t call him a fuckboy for nothing. You shouldn't feel this tempted.

He accompanies the pic with one simple text:

Yoongi🗿 [2:03AM] “Your loss”

[riririnnnn]

Maybe I'm too harsh on Sae.

Or maybe it's just my tendency to empathize more with Rin as I'm the younger sibling in my family too.

Sae has always been the more frequent visitor from the Itoshi brothers in my train of thoughts, and yet, at the end of the day, what remains close to my heart is, "Rin didn't deserve all that." It's only after that when I remind myself, "Sae was a kid too, you know."

It's always been like that—whenever I treat the Itoshi brothers with kindness, I just become kinder to Rin.

That's why I seem to forget everyday that Sae wasn't the one who changed, it was Rin who changed.

Sae was never a polite person. He was blunt, cold-ish and straightforward as a kid too. He was arrogant from the start.

Whereas for Rin, he was the first one to step forward for a change, wasn't he?

And that's exactly what happened—Rin replaced Sae by himself. He changed his playstyle completely and became like Sae in order to fill the space he left with his departure. He replaced him in the team Sae had left and in order to do so, he changed.

And somewhere along those lines, he changed from being Sae's little brother to the World's Best Striker's younger brother.

And ironically, after their reunion, Rin changed into Sae again—he became cold, rude, arrogant and snobbish, everything he wasn't earlier.

Sae might've been the first to abandon their dream, but it was Rin who first abandoned Sae.

How lukewarm, isn't it, Rin?